Archive for September, 2010

A Random Thought

Hey World…

You know what?  As children, we never quite understand our parents and why they seek to protect us.  We argue, fuss, and fight with them daily because of the things they do in order to keep us safe.  This is how they show us love.  One thing I’ve noticed is that parents get frustrated when we don’t understand this fact.  I guess I can understand why.

But why don’t parents understand the same instinct their children have for them?  That they’d do anything for them?  That we love them with all of our hearts?

Just a random thought.

Peace, Love, and Ride-or-Die Children,


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Long-Term Transitioning? My Experience:

Hey World

As you all know, I recently ended my 17 month transition from relaxed to natural hair, and I’ve noticed that most women don’t go that long.  Referencing frustration, humidity, or impatience at seeing their natural coils, many women who intend to transition for a long time don’t make it to their goal.  Heck, the same thing happened to me!  I was so sick of transitioning and I knew it just would not work out with ROTC, so I cut it the day before the first PT.

Here’s how my transition went:

  • Months 1-2: I hadn’t even decided that I was transitioning yet, but I knew it was gonna be a while before I got another perm.  I’d never liked getting perms, but I didn’t know anyone who was going natural, and I hadn’t found any online resources about it (yet).
  • Months 3-6: I found a natural hair stylist who did my hair well, but refused to give me perms.  She told me how bad perms were for myself and my body and that information, combined with my general dislike of the process and love of natural styles, prompted me to start my transition.  During this time, she maintained my hair every 2 weeks with a wash and set.
  • Months 7-9: The school year starts, and I can no longer afford a stylist.  I have to start doing my hair on my own, so I straighten it every week or two with a blow dryer and flat iron.  At this point, all of the hair on my head is around shoulder-blade length, and I constantly wear it in ponytails.  PT, plus all of the salt from not being able to wash my hair every day, is wreaking havoc on my mane!  I refuse to cut, but I don’t know if I can go on like this!
  • Months 10-14: I decide to start doing transitioner’s styles, such as the bantu knot out, braid-out, and braid-n-curl, and I finally find some resources on natural hair.  At the end of this period, I do my first LUSH henna!
  • Months 14-17: I verbal toy with the idea of cutting off the relaxed ends, but don’t take myself seriously until I go to a salon to get my hair straightened and they cut all but 1-3 inches of my relaxed hair off.  When straightened, it’s long!  It’s past my shoulders!  But I miss my curls and wash my hair in less than a week, resulting in my seeing that my hair is, well, damn-near natural.  I hold out until the end of month 17, when, on a whim, I decide to BC in my dorm room at 10 o’clock at night.

So, ladies, gentlemen, and elderly twerkers, this is how my transition went, in short.  There was a lot of frustration involved, but I’m happy I did it!  I have a length that I’m comfortable wearing and I know how to treat my hair.

That’s all for now!

Peace, Love, and Transition Tales,


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Hey World!

I know it’s been a minute, and I’m sorry about that… school is officially taking over.

In other news, I’ve made a big decision:

I am going on a relationship hiatus as of RIGHT NOW.

Deets Later,

Peace, Love, and Boys,


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What’s up guys?

I know it’s late, but I’ve been up most of the night pondering the meaning of life… and watching random nonsense on youtube.  I have to admit, this year (so far) as been pretty rough emotionally, and mainly because of the men I choose to allow into my life and how I deal with them.  I’ve been told time and time again by my brother (ThatGuy) and sister (Number1Roomy or N1R for short) that I need to stop giving so much of myself to what they refer to as “project niggas”, aka men who have something wrong with them (in the relationship sense) and don’t want to fix it.  Example:

I once dated a man (whom we refer to as Mr. Image), who was, in short, an asshole.  We dated for almost 2 years, but he did things that he knew would hurt me and never really cared when I got upset and told him how it made me feel.  Upon further inspection, it turns out that he really cared for a girl in high school who was screwing everyone but him.  Because of this, his heart was completely closed, and it sure as hell wasn’t gonna open up for me.  We broke up because neither of us wanted to marry one another (WTF?  I wasn’t even thinking about marriage at the time!).  I continue to attempt to be this person’s friend because he says I am special, but I am getting to the point where I can’t deal with all of his problems.  This, my friends, is what my ATLfam is talking about: he was a “project” to me, but I never really put my glue and scissors away.

Well, by golly y’all I’ve done it again; multiple times in fact, since Mr. Image and each time I am the one left hurting while they go on to live their lives…

In short, ladies and gentlemen, I am the worst type of woman there can possibly be: I am Captain Save-A-Nigga, complete with a cape, a mask, and a spiffy little spandex outfit with a heart on my sleeve.

Captain Save-A-Nigga is the worst type of female to be because she’s too innocent to see what these men are doing to her until the damage has already been done, but not innocent enough to not give a little too much too soon.  She’ll try her best not to trip into love, but eventually falls, and always too soon.  She’s never been without a man, much like most school children have never been without some project to complete, and just like an assignment, she feels like she has a deadline to meet.  “Will he love me in a few months?  A few years, maybe?  I can stick it out,” she thinks to herself, “if only he will love me in the end.”

Oh, and this girl wants this shit in writing, because if she already knows she’s gonna get an F for all her hard work, well, she can just move on to the next project.

… that is, until she looses the one thing that makes it all seem worthwhile in her head: her innocence.  This innocence is not lost with penetration of her vagina, but of her heart.  You see, she keeps allowing these men to take advantage of her, to use her until she’s almost all gone.  She doesn’t know who she is anymore, nor does she care, as long as she can be the right one… for this one… right now.

But one day, she wakes up to the realization that she just can’t do it anymore.  It’s like someone just shot her through her heart.

For me, that day came a few weeks ago, when Mr. Image and I made love for the last time, Coach and I began texting, Big Blue and I broke up, and I realized that ArtKid’s text messages always started with the phrase, “Yo, I’m mad bored.”

What am I doing?

I can literally feel the pain in my chest, and it feels like cold water is running down the inside of my skin right now: I just can’t do it anymore.

I need to be honest with myself.  I need to figure out what I am doing and what I need in a man to make my life easier instead of harder.  I need to know when to hold ’em and when to fold ’em when it comes to men.  When Big Blue and I broke up (deets on that later), it hurt me, and I need to stop pretending that it didn’t.  Mr. Image and I only made love because I was feeling insecure and less than beautiful and I wanted someone to hold me.  Coach is far too controlling and selfish for me to even consider being with and ArtKid is, well, a kid in an adult’s body.

… and I am a fool for the illusion of love.

They’re Anita Baker and I’m caught up in the rapture.

But no more!  I can’t do this crazy shit anymore!  I can’t be the same person I was and keep getting my heart broken!  I’m to the point now where no one has permission to cross that threshold, pick that lock, knock down that door.  I know now how some men are, and unless they are willing to break down a VERY tall, very thick wall, ain’t no niggas gettin’ to my heart any time soon.  I know they say love only comes to those with an open heart, but if this is what I have to wade through to find it, I’d rather build a raft and float just above it, never breaking the surface.  Fuck that galoshes shit… I’d rather be alone forever than to be Captain Save-A-Ho for one more minute.

So, to those out there willing and able, I hope you brought your sledgehammer, because it only seems right now to punish you for all the other men’s mistakes.

Peace, Love, and Closed Hearts,


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Hi Guys!  How are y’all?

Earlier this month, I wrote that one of my goals for this blog was to spotlight some herbs that are good for hair and, specifically, how to incorporate them in an ayurvedic regimen…

Well, I’ve decided that one of the herbs I want to spotlight today is one that I view as extremely useful and beneficial to the overall health of one’s hair: Marshmallow Root!

Marshmallow Root!!!!

Marshmallow root is a white herb that is often used to treat both skin and hair ailments, such as eczema, psoriasis, and dry scalp, in addition to treating sore muscles (my current ailment, due to extensive physical training).  The way it does this is with it’s “mucilage”, or complex glutenous carbohydrate secretion (sounds pretty gross).  This mucilage is not only rich in proteins and vitamins ( A and C, to be exact), but, when applied to the hair in the form of a rinse, gives the hair incredible slip, as well as conditioning it.  As a matter of fact, a marshmallow rinse can be used as a conditioner for your hair!  This explains why Kinky Curly’s Knot Today is such an effective detangler and conditioner: it contains marshmallow root as it’s third ingredient!

Marshmallow Rinse Recipe:

  • 1 cup hot water
  • 4 teaspoons shredded marshmallow root

Put the marshmallow root in a cup, then add the hot water and allow the mixture to sit for about 10 minutes, as if you were making tea.  Strain the marshmallow out, and use the “tea” as a rinse for your hair.

Peace, Love, and Marshmallow,


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Hello World,

You're probably wondering why this is here, right?

As you can tell from the title, ArtKid and I are no more!!!

You just won’t believe what this fool did!  It was utterly shocking!  As a matter of fact, I honestly considered it offensive to my humanity.  For real.

Ahhh… allow me to transport you to the beginning of the end:

A few days after school ended, I got a notice from my school that I had to switch dorms or be fined $250 (as if they don’t take enough from me already).  I was in Warner Robins by then, so I figured I’d make a weekend of coming back to Atlanta.  Furthermore, I got an email that same day informing me that I’d won tickets to an exclusive meet-up (yay me!) that would be held in Atlanta on Friday night.  When I found all of this out, I called ArtKid and, (almost giddy at this point) asked:

“What are you doing this Friday night?”

He responded, in his slightly-high-for-a-man-but-still-sexy voice, “Uhhhmmmm… nothing yet.  Why?”

*Audibly cheesing*  “Well, I’m going to be in Atlanta and I figured we could hang because school is out and all that…”

“Yeah, sure.  Just call me around 10 or so and we can chill.”

Oh yes world… we were gonna chill alright.

This conversation occurred on Thursday.  I drove to Atlanta Friday morning.

I went to all the meet-ups, had a blast, got some food (didn’t want my stomach to growl in front of him), PUT ON A DRESS, and called this fool, fully prepared to turn his world upside down…

… and he says, “Oh, I can’t.”

… “You can’t?  Why can’t you?”  I mean, I was wearing A DRESS!

Meanwhile, I can hear a female voice in the background talking incessantly (How rude is that??  Talking while someone is on the phone!!??  Really???)… sadly y’all, it did not click and the conversation continued:

…”I’m busy.”

…”Doing what?  You told me to call you around this time and I didn’t make any other plans because I thought we could chill.”

“I’m chillin’… with my friend,” he says nervously, as the voice in the background simultaneously gets quiet.

All of a sudden the clouds parted and I saw the light: ladies, gentlemen, and almighty twerkers, this ho had me on a rotation!  Oh hell no.  No I.  Not SuperCoils.  Not this crazy little black girl… no way.

“Oh.  Well I hope you two have a blast.”

“Ah man, don’t…”


I mean, are we serious right now?  You want to sit there and play Mr. Sensitive when you’ve got me on a ROTATION??  Dear coily world, please be advised: the only rotations I do are arm-and-shoulder rotations, ya feel me?

Then this fool had the gall to text me two hours later tal’m (my accent comes out when I’m pissed) ’bout some, “Hey.  I’m done now.  Do you still want to hang?”

… Negro, no!  #Fail #Failure #GradeSchoolDropout #KillYoSelf #Like, #4Real #YouzAHo #LudaCalledIt

But alas, the more forgiving side of me decided to give him another chance 4 weeks later… when I was desperately bored:

I’d been avoiding ArtKid for quite some time after that, ignoring all means of contact (FaceBook, Twittah, email, phone, mutual friends… all that… he was cut off like a shop teacher’s fingers.  That is, until he said the magic words:

“Hey ghost girl.  You wanna go to Little Five Points with me?”

I’d never been to Little Five Points, but I wanted to go so badly!!!  I’d been trying to find it for three years, to no avail.  But ArtKid was willing to take me!  Wow!  Of all the luck…

So I hopped in my car and drove over there very slowly.  Tuition was due on Monday and I was especially afraid of getting a ticket (y’all know Fulton County don’t play that).

When I got there, he took forever to let me into his building (Strike One) and then said, “Hey, I’m broke and trying to conserve gas… would you mind driving?”

So… you mean to tell me you’re a grown man who goes shopping every weekend, doesn’t cook, lives alone, invites women to go out with you, and can’t even factor the miniscule amount of gasoline it takes to drive said female from your spot to the date locale into your budget?  Strike Two.

Admittedly though, we had a great time out there.  Little Five Points is such a unique place with so many different people.  I absolutely loved it and thoroughly enjoyed my time there.

But then we got back in the car and started talking about being broke.  As a college student, I know what it means to be broke, so our conversation was pretty funny to hear… we were joking back and forth about things one should buy the other, such as flat screens and cars and houses, when food comes up:

“SuperCoils, I think you should buy me a double cheeseburger.”

I looked at him and laughed, “You must really like double cheeseburgers dude, because I was about to say ‘a yacht’.”

“Nah, I’m for real… can you buy me a double cheeseburger?”

I was just smiling and laughing at this guy!  OMG, he’s so funny!  He REALLY must love double cheeseburgers!  But then I looked over at his face and my smile was instantly erased: he. was. serious.

… da ffffff****************kkkkkkkkk?  Excuse my French y’all, but is this coon really begging for food?

“I mean, nevermind, cuz you act like you don’t even want to get me one, even though I bought you food twice last month and now I’m broke.  You know, that’s really messed up.  If you needed one, I’d get one for you.”

I have to admit, he had a somewhat valid point (except for the fact that I don’t eat double cheeseburgers), but the way that he practically begged, then got pouty… it just turned me completely off.

Is this grown-ass-man really sitting in the passenger seat of my car with his lip poked out over a double cheeseburger?  And did he really just try to send me on a guilt trip about not getting him one?  Alright then.  I’ll fix his ass.

So we pull up to Burger King and he leans over me (Strike Fifty-Eight) to order his sandwich… which came to a whopping 1 dollar and 8 cents.  Are. You. Serious? I just drove around, paid for the sandwich (in change, just for irony’s sake), and pulled the oh-so-hefty bag into the car.

“Hey, I really appreciate this, you know.  I was so bored today.  My cable got cut off and I dont’ have any internet…”

“Oh, it’s no problem!  Hey, we’re having a budgeting event at the school in about a week,” (totally false), “and I figured you may wanna come… you know, before that next paycheck just flies away.  Who knows?  I may not be here the next time to get you a sandwich.”

I know it wasn’t right, or fair, but I was pissed and I knew the only way to get to him was to mess with his most prized possession (well, maybe second): his ego.

“… Wow, really?  Nah, that’s for college kids; I’m too grown for that.”

How was his skull so thick that he did not hear the sarcasm in that?  It was dripping all over the carpet!  Even my seats were greased up with sarcasm!  That junk was EVERYWHERE!!!

“When will I see you again, SuperCoils?”

I must tell you all, I thought long and hard about this before I finally gave him my answer:

“Never.  You sicken me.”

And by then he was out of the car and talking to me through the window, which made it all too easy to shift gears and speed off, leaving him in my dust.

Ugh… I am soooooo not a good judge of character.  This fool even texted me an hour later, asking, “R U mad @ me?”

I. Have. No. Words.

Peace, Love, and Double Cheeseburgers,


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