Tag Archives: love

Wasting My Youth, C’est La Vie

3 Nov

There are a lot of things that my mother has been right about over the course of my teenage years. Now, a month short from turning 21 years old, I am beginning to question if this is one of them.

I would love to argue with her and tell her that she is wrong. Tell her that age is just a number and that he loves me. But honestly? I’m over that. I’m over telling her she’s wrong, even though I want her to be wrong so badly.

I am currently dating a man who is seventeen years older than me. He is divorced and has two lovely daughters, ages 13 and 9, whom I have come to care about very much, yes, I can even say I love them. We have been together for almost two years. In those two years, I have grown to love him, love him more than I thought I could ever love someone. As a person, as a friend, as a lover, I just love all of him. We connect in a way that leaves me at a loss for words,(which is a rare occurrence for someone like me). We even spoke about  getting married sometime in the future, and even though I didn’t let him know it then, just the idea of spending the rest of my life with him has motivated me more to finish school and get my career in motion.

After having lived with him for about a year, and recently moving back to my parents’ house about a month ago, it would be a stretch to say that we have had a “normal” relationship. However, not being “normal” doesn’t necessarily mean that we haven’t been happy. Or so I thought.

On average, he sees his girls about once a month, twice if he’s lucky. Recently they’ve been asking to see more of him but it’s hard because of time, money and the distance between their house and his. With good reason, my boyfriend is terribly upset by this and for two days now, has only answered one of my phone calls and one of my text messages.

At the risk of sounding selfish, I am angry that he is not answering my attempts to contact him because I need him too. I know that he’s having a hard time, and I really wish I could help him, but part of being in a relationship means that we can rely on each other. Be each other’s rock.

Moving back to my parents’ house has been really hard on me. Crying every night when I try to go to sleep without him, crying every morning when I don’t see him next to me. And let’s not forget, crying every time I go to his house and I have to leave. He has never not listened to my bitching, but this month has been particularly difficult for both of us. I feel alone, lost, and now, questioning how or if this is all going to work out.

While the relationship has brought me lots of happiness, it has been a constant struggle between my head and my heart. It could be that I am looking too far ahead, or maybe that I was never looking far enough ahead. At the moment I feel stuck, or really too pressured to fast forward through my twenties to make someone else happy. I’ve often thought about my future and there are many things I have always thought of doing before settling down with someone. Travel, graduate, make a lot of stupid mistakes that I can tell my kids about in the future (haha), and hopefully make money before I decide to even have a family.

My mom says that I am wasting my youth by dating an older man who already has the responsibility of children. She says I have to “find myself” and “live”. And for a long time I’ve been telling myself that I am “living” the way I want to, but today as I wait for my boyfriend to answer my phone calls I realize he’s already “lived” and has his reason for living; his girls.

Though I cannot blame either of them for wanting what is best for their children, I do want to know where this leaves me.

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I wrote the above about a year ago while I was in a very serious relationship that may not have been ready for at the time. I had originally titled this post “Wasting My Youth”, but now that I look back on it, I don’t know if I was. After all, it was not a bad relationship. I learned a lot, laughed a lot, and most of all LOVED a lot. The problem was that I questioned the relationship too much and if you can’t trust yourself to know what’s right, that’s enough to drive you insane.

The right decisions aren’t always the easy ones. C’est la vie.

Bad Bitches and Ladies, by Vanessa Rene

21 Oct

Lupe Fiasco has, for a while now, been one of my favorite rappers. I’ve loved his impressive wordplay and his clever lyrics, his amazing storytelling and sick flow. And for a little bit, I considered myself a Lupe stan. He could do no wrong in my eyes. Food & Liquor is a masterpiece. The Cool is probably my favorite album of all time. I pretend that Lasers (an album that was released, ultimately to appease his record label…he distances himself from that record every chance he gets…) never happened. And I, like the rest of the Lupe stans out there, anxiously waited for the announcement of when he would be releasing his next album,Food & Liquor II: The Great American Rap Album.

I came across the lead single from the new release off his Facebook page.

The song, “Bitch Bad” is definitely a conversation starter: Lupe tells the story of how two young individuals define the phrase “bad bitch.” A young man heard his mother use it while rapping along to a song. He loves his mother; she takes care of him, and raises him well, so he associates “bad bitch” with women who are like his mother.

A young woman comes across the phrase while watching uncensored rap videos online without parental supervision. To her, being a “bad bitch” is to be like the women seen in those ‘raunchy’ rap music videos: they’re beautiful women who have caught the attention of powerful men in the music industry. She sees the video vixens as role models because of all they were able to achieve, and begins to call herself a “bad bitch,” in hopes of aspiring to their success.

The two eventually meet, and don’t particularly hit it off. They both have two different meanings of the phrase.

The chorus is where the cognitive dissonance starts for me. I can’t enjoy the song as much as I’d like to, nor can I hop onto the message that Lupe attempts to expose because he raps:

“ ‘Bitch’ bad, ‘woman’ good
‘Lady’ better, they misunderstood…”

And in the last verse, he even goes so far as to say, “…greatest: ‘motherhood’.”

While the discourse could be interesting (I can identify with his praise of motherhood, while still acknowledging how problematic it is to suggest that all women aspire to become mothers), especially considering the political climate with regards to Black womanhood, his assertion goes hand in hand with the larger “virgin-whore” dichotomy that is so pervasive in our society. Black women are particularly under such scrutiny.

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A Little Segway for GreenEyedJupiter

20 Oct

Hey readers!

It’s nice to be back after a well-needed break. I have some pretty exciting news and some great posts coming up very very soon (from some new writers as well)!

But now I would like to talk about something pretty unrelated to everything we stand for at GreenEyedJupiter.

As some of you may know, this blog was named after my kitty, Jupiter. Well now, Jupiter happens have his own blog, and just released his very first music video. I hope that as my long time readers you can support my cat and follow him on his journey to potential fame.

Please share re-blog this, tweet it, share it, etc. We really appreciate our fans!

So here it is, after this post – back to business.

He Went to Confession Every Time They Had Sex

23 Sep

Please read. Originally posted on The Cut by an anonymous writer. What would you do? 

The sex was great. That wasn’t the problem in my four-year relationship with Rob. He knew what I liked and how I liked it. The problem was the mandatory shower and praying afterwards. The hours we’d spend at church on Sundays. The talking about how we were going to hell.

When I started dating Rob after my freshman year of college, I wanted to have sex, but he said he wasn’t ready for it because he was so religious. Rob was raised Protestant, but his closest friend had been really Catholic and told him that no one was mentally ready to have sex before they were married. He took it to heart. I chose to respect that, but I got so many mixed signals. Rob would escalate things, and we’d almost have sex, almost undress, and then he would stop and say we couldn’t go any further. There was a point, and he made the conscious decision to have sex — then a few weeks later, he felt really guilty and said we shouldn’t do it on a regular basis. It continued like that for the next four years, even when we lived together and slept in the same bed every night.

I would get him drunk, telling our friends to feed him shots. I’d lie around our apartment studying in a G-string. I had a few sets of lingerie that I knew would work when I was desperate. I would do almost anything to have sex with my boyfriend. Sometimes it would happen a few times a month, maybe a few times a week if I was lucky. Then he’d swear off sex for weeks, until he couldn’t take it anymore.

Even though the church bans the use of birth control, Rob was okay with using it. God forbid I get pregnant — abortion would never be an option.

Even though we shared an apartment, we technically kept separate bedrooms. His had a twin bed with a crucifix on the wall and a little desk where he studied. My room was the one with the big bed and the candles. He ended up every night in there with me.

We never missed church. We’d leave our friends or stop watching a game, drop everything to be there for mass on Sunday. A few times a month, we would stay after mass and confession and say the rosary. It would take an hour, 45 minutes if I did it quickly. I was a Catholic, I was raised in the church, but even this was a lot for me.

The guilt consumed him. He would try to convince himself that premarital sex was fine because he was going to marry me anyway. He was going to be with me forever, or so he justified it. But even that wasn’t the case. The fall after we graduated from college and moved into a new apartment with both our names on the lease, he cheated on me.

I found out through a friend of his. It destroyed me. This was the man I was going to marry, had spent four years with; I had put up with all his issues. And then he goes and sleeps with some girl from grad school.

He’s still with her, probably because he feels too guilty to leave her. They’re having sex, I know that. I think that is what broke him, crossing that one line he said he would never cross. As for me, I’m married to a wonderful man now, one who doesn’t make me feel like a temptress whenever I want to get laid.

Brains and Hearts and Feelings

16 Sep

I think the biggest fight I’ve ever gotten into has been with myself. The one between my head and my heart. I don’t know what it is but they’re mortal enemies. It’s almost like they fake liking each other and then one day, when the heart is feeling extra happy, the head just wants to make it miserable. Then when the head is feeling confident, the heart breaks it down like no tomorrow. It’s an awful feeling, really.

The worst is that in situations like these, most of the time, there’s no winning. If you side with your heart, you may feel like you’re letting yourself down. If you side with your heart, you start thinking about all of the “what-ifs”.This will go on for awhile until something else comes up that is worth thinking about and maybe even then you’re still going to be kicking your own ass about the decision you thought so much about taking. Like I said, no winning.

So what do we do when we’re faced with a heart/head debate? To be honest, I have no idea. But my guess is that flipping a coin will probably save you a lot of time and headaches.

Why I Don’t Hate Demi Lovato

5 Sep

I’m not even going to lie. It took me a while to decide whether or not I was going to publish this post today. I was almost embarrassed to say that I actually like Demi Lovato and that I actually like her music. Not just one song, a ton of them. Like now I have a whole Pandora station dedicated to her. That’s a big deal these days. 

I know that most musical snobs (like myself) associate Disney stars that turn pop-sensations with bad music. And who can blame us, right? Auto-tune cannot cover up lack of expression and shitty lyrics as much as one can try to do so (ex: Selena Gomez, Miley Cyrus). And you know what, we can’t even blame poor Selena and Miley for these things because chances are, they probably like their own music, and they’re making millions so good for them. 

Demi Lovato impressed me with this last album though. Her split with the Jonas Brothers was probably the best thing that ever happened to her. She has this R&B thing going on and it actually gives me goosebumps. 

Demi Lovato also has real problems. She was treated for bulimia, bi-polar disorder…and she admitted her condition and she didn’t try to hide anything. It’s bad enough that she was battling with herself to take control over her own life, but when you have a million people following you whether it be virtually or literally, you have to be a whole lot stronger to get by. 

If I were 13, she’d be my role model. The music business is an ugly ugly world and it seems like she just took the devil by it’s horns and rode it like a carousel. 

You go girl. 

 

If I Can’t Touch Me, Why Can You?

7 Aug

I’ve been feeling a little risqué lately, so instead of putting on some daring red lipstick ( ‘cause lord knows I don’t own any) or trying a new dare devil-once-in-a-lifetime- extreme bucket list activity, let’s flesh it out here. Let’s talk about the unspoken pleasure, an event I’m sure we’ve all taken part in, but are waaaay to “lady-like” to admit it…a lovely term we all know as masturbation. I know, I know it’s gross to even read it on the page, but why is that? A deed that is as natural to us as breathing? Why do we soo quickly negatively judge the safest sexual activity (speaking in likeliness if STI’s) there is?

Throughout the course of history, women have been lead into developing certain kinds of relationships, very distant relationships, with themselves and with their bodies, uncomfortable ones at best unsatisfying ones at worst. For as long as there has been an America there has been a strict and rigid format women had always been expected to follow. In America’s early years, recreational sex was never an accepted “code of conduct” for women. Those who deviated from it were women who were no longer “ladies”; women who were open about sex and pleasure techniques even till this day are criticized and condemned to an extent.

The only time I’ve ever seen female masturbation being glorified is when it is done for the sake of a partner watching. This reinforces the ostracizing of women from their own beings because the only time it is deemed ok to make YOU feel good, is for SOMEONE ELSE. If doing this is supposed to be for your own pleasure why does someone else have an agency over your body that really is only entitled to you?? Now, I am a feminist at heart and of course a lot of my sentiment and drive lies within the unjust effects our society has on the mind of us as women,but I do think it is also important to look at the stigmatization of masturbation for men as well. They have it rough. This may be one of the ONLY categories that men may be more distressed and misunderstood in than us ladies. You want to know why? It’s gross. Plain and simply put, it is nasty. Or at least that’s how mainstream media portrays it. The man who does that is usually a perv who is incapable of getting laid. At least for us, it has an appeal of being sexy to an audience. There are not many cases that I’ve witnessed or heard of where it’s attractive to see a man “taking care of himself”.

It’s immediately associated with derogatory images and events. First ones that come to mind for me are cheating, getting caught watching porn, and Pee Wee Herman, you remember him. The guy publicly jacked off inside a movie theatre? It all barrels down to very embarrassing conclusions: he’s desperate, he’s a sex addict, he has no “game”…. It’s looked at as an insult in a lot of situations. Why the hell is that? Funny how the male sexual desires are acknowledged but yet in the physicality of it, masturbation is every bit as shunned for men as it for women.

A proposal for it? Hmm, I really wish I had one. Why is America, a place where sex and masturbation in all its kinky forms raids and lives within its media and the minds of its public audiences so offended and disgusted by something so seemingly minute as this?

By the always clever and entertaining Sam Hogan. 

Thought of the Day

14 Apr

There is really no worse feeling than the feeling of not knowing.