Word 24: Fire


I love fire.

As a kid, fire brought curiosity that nothing else did…besides maybe water. With fire…there was this beautiful, glowing, sign of heated life and it could grow. It could be bigger than a candle’s flame and be angrier than any person’s temper.

My first lesson on fire, was when I was a kid of about 7 or 8 and I lit a fire to my grandmother’s shag rug…just to see it burn. Unfortunately, my baby sister’s stroller was there. I KNOW what you’re thinking, but I promise it wasn’t intended to set HER on fire. I was playing carelessly and too young to know how quickly a rug made of synthetic fibers could burst into flames. I was chided harshly (deserving), but I could never shake that suspicion that I would harm my sister purposefully.

I still have a secret love affair with fire. There’s something about the colors that burning oxygen gives off to the naked eye…an involuntary pull to be swallowed by it, and hopefully…an 11th hour sense of self-preservation that keeps you from falling in.

The Twentieth Day…

…the most memorable day of your childhood

Well, I was gonna talk about the day I almost drowned in a pool at a park…but, I decided not to make it a bad memory. (Trying to keep a good balance of smiles and heart strings).

I saw the pic that accompanies Lamont’s blog for the day and decided not to blog my trip to Disney World, but then I thought…hell…it’s okay to blog similar things. “He had her [Disney] HIS way and I had her mine!” lmao (a little Color Purple reference for you).

ANY way…when I was 5, my mom and dad took me to Disney World. I remember very little, but what I DO remember tickles me a lot.

I remember we parked in the Goofy Section of the lot…and that as we were on our way inside of the park, I dropped a piece of Oscar Meyer bologna that my mother had given me. Upon returning, my bologna had NO name…because it had fried and BURNED on the asphalt. THAT is how hot it was.

I remember that I got on the Mad Tea Party ride…or was it the Mad Tea Cup…well whatever. The individual cups went around in circles while the whole platform went in circles in the opposite direction…making for a VERY dizzy Kali. I giggled the whole time…bumping my head and going between “ouch” and “hahaha”.

A lot of the trip gets fuzzy. I want to say that we visited my grandfather on the way home, but it might’ve been on the way to Fla. Here’s me with his dog…I think I was up to something.

I also believe we visited my great-grandmother somewhere along the way, but that could be total imagination or jagged memory (remembering a visit but at the wrong time) lol

I remember us losing our way…or dad being pulled over by a state trooper. I vaguely remember my father calling someone a racist motherfucka…but, again…I could have it all wrong. (I doubt it). lol

I know that my mom tells me that she was pregnant with my baby sister at the time. She says she and my dad were breaking up and he INSISTED on this trip…I suppose as a last ditch effort to save their relationship.

Nonetheless…I remember going, bringing home Mickey ears…and viewing the pictures that were in my dad’s drawer in his room. I may ask him if he has anymore pics from that day. If so, I’ll probably show them on Facebook. lol

No Longer Waiting to Exhale

You could’ve bought me for half a penny last night when I found out Whitney Houston had died. I HATE the internet for the kind of  false alarms we have about celebrities dying. The first thing I do is search out the info on big sites…which I did this time and the top source was ABC. She’d died in the Beverly Hills Hilton Hotel and was found by her bodyguard. (even though for a second folks thought Ray J had found her). She was there to attend the Grammy’s which is to be aired tonight at 8pm EST on CBS. I’m sure the show will reflect the industry’s loss. Especially since we’ve also lost Etta James and Don Cornelius as well. ~sigh~

Let me tell you…I couldn’t even talk to my girl Tei anymore. I had to get off the phone. CNN was reporting and I had to hear every bit of it. I search for words right now and I’ve got a swirl of info and thoughts and emotions competing for space in this blog right now. (It doesn’t help that VH1Soul is on and playing her songs) I cried and cried some more…and turned her music on and cried some more. I’m still in disbelief…probably will be for a long time. It’s hard to accept the loss of such public people when they’ve left so many living visuals of themselves to keep them alive.


Most people my age grew up with Whitney the way my mom grew up with Michael Jackson. In their beginning years…WITH them. My first album ever(which I purchased with my allowance) was her first album…vinyl. I played that album until it skipped. I loved EVERY song and played it and sang it EVERY day. I was 11 or 12. I used to hang with the Bunches…Shawn and Equenthia…and I think we all thought we were Houstons and Jacksons. I KNOW their mom Sandy got tired of us singing all the GAT damn time. lol  “You Give Good Love” summoned Shawn and I into his mother’s room one day as we laid eyes on Whitney for the first time singing. Mouths and ears open. That intro is unforgettable and I don’t care if we’re riding in a car of loud folks, with the windows down, wind whipping and what not…I can still spot that song on the lowest volume by the 1st few notes. “TURN IT UP!!!” is what you’ll hear me say out of nowhere. My 2nd fave became “Thinking About You” which is the 2nd track and honey it goes on for each song on this album. Her duets with Teddy Pendergrass and Jermaine Jackson…classic.

Then her sophomore album hit, “Whitney Houston” and I played THAT like it was going outta style. My girl Leah and I sat around and played that album (often crying and feeling every emotion…even though we were 12 & 14). “Where You Are”, “For the Love of You” the Isley Bros remake, which I had the nerve to correct Leah’s mom when she said that in the car:

Judy *as the song plays on the radio*: “Oh, this is a remake of the Isley Bros song…”
Smart Ass Me: “Nah uh, Ms. Judy…that’s Whitney Houston!”
Judy: “Yea, but they made it first…”

Smart Ass Me: “Oh…I like Whitney’s better” (KNOWING I hadn’t heard the other and thinking…who cares?) LOL

“So Emotional” was the song my sister and I sang often…mics and all. “Just the Lonely Talking Again” another remake, this one originally by The Manhattans. I swear…I sang this song to an ex of mine and he was mesmerized. He was like, “Wow…you sound just like her!” Back in those days I could actually hit those notes…now, not so much. lol

Whitney’s music, along with Michael Jackson, Prince, Stevie Wonder, New Edition, and so many more were indeed the singers to the songs that made the soundtrack to my adolescence. I can tell you who I was “in love” with, where I lived, who was my bestie and how I wore my hair to each song.

When Whitney visibly fell victim her drug usage…no longer functional, it was heart-breaking. I used to tell people…she’s human. Yes, we love her…but she’s human. There has to be enormous pressure on someone like her to be “perfect”, that we shouldn’t expect her never to fall, make mistakes and lose her way. I believed in my favorite female artist of all time. I believed that God and her strong mom would help her through. Whitney came from a family who although were connected to the gospel world…also had substance abuse issues. Both of her brothers at one time or another were addicted and her cousin Dionne Warwick had her own battles.

I wrote on Whitney before…click here…to see what I had to say back in 2009. As I read that older blog, I see some of the same memories written there as in this one, but hey…it’s my blog…I can repeat myself if I want to. LOL

~sigh~ Whitney Elizabeth…”Nippy”…I’m gonna miss you girl. I’m gonna miss pulling for you to get better and come back and reclaim your glory. Never again though…you’re in HIS glory now. I pray that for you. I pray an abundance of comfort, peace and understanding for Bobbi Kristina, Cissy, Bobby and the rest of your family and friends. I pray that your struggle speaks so loudly to those doing the same and that they’re convicted to get it together. I’ll never EVER forget your angelically pure voice, your sass and your artistic offerings. Rest in Peace, Whitney.

Love Always, Kali

**I want to thank my tumblr family for the pics @queennubian and @notesonascandal**  

The Vernon

Heavy’s death made me think on my hometown…

For the longest time, I had beef with where I grew up. I suppose it has more to do with the fact that I was an outsider mostly and didn’t much fit in. I always ended up befriending people much older than me because my peers often teased me for being a goody two shoes or a nerd. It didn’t help much though…I ended up being teased for being the younger, more sensitive one.

I DO have memories that were pure and beautiful…

Living in the “projects” when it was still clean, respectable, and safe. How us kids were watched by the adults in the park and not preyed on. We were timed by the street lights, but not limited to them. If there were adults on the park bench, my grandmother would just holla out of her 2nd floor window and ask someone to keep an eye on me. “No problem, Mrs. Gunn…”

I remember playing in the grassy “quartered fields” of the PJ’s park. The five buildings faced three different blocks. The back of the buildings was connected by a round concrete walk, where the five buildings’ paths connected. In the middle of it all was four parts of grass, fenced off into triangles. Two big ones, two smaller ones…which made for football, baseball, kickball, dodge ball fields for us kids. The girls made up cheers on the side while the guys played ball of whatever nature…but don’t get it twisted. Us girls got involved! We played “touch” football *lmao* with the guys. Sheesh…I can remember going hard…trying to score a touchdown (thinking this was the object of the game) when all of the older kids are on the field kinda…well, rolling around and flirting. Here I am, spiking a football…when the “cute” girls are fighting off tickles and hugs. ~sigh~ Always the quarterback never the hot cheerleader…lol

I remember when Halloween was safe. When we played “ladder”…a game where we started at the 10th floor and systematically went down floor to floor ringing doorbells and running. HAHA! I remember when we all had monkey bar races (the iron “skeleton” house familiar to older parks) where we’d do “TEN FLIPS HERE…RUN TO THE OTHER SIDE, DO FIVE THERE, COME BACK AND DO TEN!” …lawd…we ended up dizzy mostly. I’ve won plenty of them. (Might be why I ain’t right, lol) I remember playing “Red Devil“…wow. I just had a flashback. ::pausing for some emotion:: I remember my “cousin” Abdrice (Ab-dreece) ~Rest In Peace~…we called him Drice…used to hate to play that game with me. I was a pretty fast runner. Red Devil is when a bunch of kids sit on the bench (ready to run) having picked a color…as the main person yells, “RED DEVIL, RED DEVIL, WHAT COLOR ARE YOU?” …then they’d yell out a color. If they yelled your color…you had to run around a quarter of the grass (described above) and if you got caught…you became the Red Devil and had to chase folks until you caught someone. I ALWAYS caught Drice…I caught MOST, but HE hated it. lol. I remember how the city’s recreational department would come through during the summer, set up a stage and put on a production for us. We had a good time…we really did.

I had WONDERFUL memories as a kid…but my adolescence sucked a little. From unrequited love to rumors of me being a big ass liar (It is NEVER fun for a boy to deny being with you…especially when he’s supposed to be your best friend AND your first). I wasn’t a Gucci/Fendi bag-carrying, Guess jean-having, Owning every color of the rainbow Reebok-wearing, Fly girl. I was your average kid whose parents worked and gave me decent clothes. Add being what now is considered “thick” to the mix and that geek shit and you have a tortured kid. I couldn’t stand folks at times. You never knew who your friend was because EVERY thing you said got reported and contorted. Most of the stuff folks said I said, I didn’t say…and honestly…what I did say went over a lot of folks’ heads. Being smart is lonely….no one ever gets you. I’m sure I had my moments where I said something wrong, but shit…we all did…we were kids. I always seem to be the scapegoat. Not much has changed either…except, well…I call you on your shit now. I’m surely not 14 anymore.

I had my light moments…my shining points of growing up. I had my darker moments, too. I suppose such is life, ya know? What I do love about where I grew up is that there are things indigenous to JUST Mt. Vernon and the small townships surrounding it that make it special. No one knows about Shabazz’ Philly Burgers or their fish sandwiches. How my mom made their banana pudding for the longest time. No one knows what “Ronelle’s”and “Chamber’s” was. Or H & L Greens. I dare you to say you know something about one of the best donut shops in the COUNTY (the name is escaping me right now). How shopping on 4th Ave. was everyone’s bright spot come the new school year and summer. We had one of THE best marching bands for our high school. The parades were HOT! *reminiscing on the MLK band*. Still to this day, Mt. Vernon High School has the boss basketball team and the Razorbacks (football) still kicks major ass!!

Yea…Hev put us on the map. No doubt. He gave us pride…yet, there was always SOME thing to be proud of. I pray there still is. I’m allergic to Mt. Vernon these days. LOL I have no desire to return for any reason other than to see my one remaining grandmother or my dad, uncles, etc. Hanging there isn’t my thing. Perhaps I’ll always be an outsider *shrugs*…one thing is for sure…I will remember those days when Mt. Vernon made being a kid the BOMB!

It’s where I’m from…you know?

1~ Adore

First Love (of course!)…what they meant/mean to you…

I can’t listen to Adore without thinking of SB. They go hand in hand. He really was my first love. We grew up together and honestly, I followed him around until it was no longer cute to do so. Once we stopped “playing”…we began something else…

I lost my virginity early. I was 13 and he was 16. Not the ideal age to begin exploring sex…but it happened. I don’t regret him though. Even though, I know there was some juvenile insecurities involved behind his reasoning for not wanting people to know we were sexing…I’m still grateful that I gave myself to someone who basically cared for me. I blame his “shame” on youthful pride and caring way too much about what his friends would think (even though at one time or another they all tried to get some). I didn’t have to worry about my name being dragged through the bowels of the projects’ halls…”Kali’s a slut…” or some shit like that. He remained my one and only until I was 20yrs old…and I’m proud of that.

He and I are still cool. He’s on my Facebook page, has my number and from time to time we talk or text. He’s never gonna be my “brother” again…but, he’s always gonna be my boo.

Oh…he never DID give me back my Prince cassette. LOL

Beautiful Bean Footage

Do you know how some people have a soundtrack to their life? I have a movie reel as well. My father is a movie connoisseur and always had all the movies hot off the block…aka bootleg. Well, actually…he had what are referred to as “promotional copies”. It’s the actual DVD/tape meant for the vendor to view before purchase. He got the hook up constantly. If I wanted a movie…he got it for me. I usually watched until the tape popped and the video was no more good.

SO, tonight…I was in-boxing my sis (as per usual our routine) and I told her I was watching “Grease”. I went on to tell her that I remember seeing that movie in the theater with my 2 childhood besties, their dad and their dad’s girlfriend. (Except now, I’m remembering that I saw that movie with mom and her friend and kids) The movie I saw with the childhood besties was “Stir Crazy”. That movie was too funny. Although, I do believe that it wasn’t suitable for us kids. I saw “Beat Street” with my godsisters, their dad and their cousin. I loved that movie. I was crying when Ramo died. 😦

I remember viewing “Annie”, with my class. I still have the brass keychain which is an actual stamping of the tickets. I’ve loved Annie ever since, viewing that among other movies umpteen times without tiring. Something about Ms. Hannigan’s (Carol Burnett) crazy tub shinny swigging ass ordering around a school-ful of moppets.

I remember that dad had folks in the PJ’s knocking on the door borrowing movies.  He had the TV hooked up to the stereo system which made it sound like theater surround sound. When the kids and I watched Poltergeist the night of my birthday party…we felt like we could hear that creepy short chick…right beside us.

I remember that I was deathly afraid of “The Exorcist”, “The Thing”, “The Omen” and “The Shining”. I was also scared after watching “Dracula” in the movies with mom and our crew. My cousins cracked jokes on me for a day because I cried in refusal to watch Linda Blair throw up pea soup. Hell nah…get that outta here. Today? I’m a horror flick lover. The scarier the better. I got mad when “The Grudge”, “The Village”, and “Hostel” were wack. O_O

On the flip side, my dad forbade me to watch “Caligula”, which of course I sneaked to find and watch with my first love. I was between 14 and 15…which made him 17 or 18. WRONG MOVE. We’re watching all of this explicit sexual content (one scene so unforgettable, where dude fists a man’s ass on his wedding night O_O) and getting riled up. There was everything from deformities and bestiality to homosexual sex, which was unheard of then. While watching…my crush ends up feeling me up…that is, until my grandmother comes home. *insert scene of us jumping up and sitting on opposite sides of the room before she sees us*.

I have my movies that I watch ad nauseum, every time they air. I’m REALLY a movie buff, so I deplore movies aired on cable networks where there are commercials. Movies like “Color Purple”, “Titanic”, “The Notebook”, “Last Dragon”, “What’s Love Got To Do With It”, “Coming to America”, etc…all should be viewed with no interruption.

I am the girl who wants to make it to the movies on time for previews and credits and will sit there at the end for any blooper reels, soundtrack info or to spot who played whom. If a movie I’ve never watched comes on and I’ve missed the first 15 minutes…I won’t watch. I’ll look for the next airing so I can catch it. The most intricate pieces to the plot happen in the first FIVE to ten minutes of a movie. Miss that and you’ll be asking, “Wait…what’s going on?” until the plot is revealed. LOL

Some of my faves?

Star Wars Trilogy
Hope Floats
Pillow Talk (with Doris Day and Rock Hudson)
Sleepaway Camp
Steel Magnolias
Terms of Endearment
Malcolm (X)
Distinguished Gentleman
Which Way is Up?
I’m Gonna Git You Sucka
Dr. Detroit
Howard the Duck
Sixteen Candles
Fifth Element
Dirty Dancing
…I can go on and on. I know I’m missing stuff…but, oh well. That’s bound to happen when your love of movies is vast. I love obscure independent movies, classics, black and white (like “The Hounds of Baskerville”), science fiction, horror, suspense, drama…yea. You get it.

Movies along with music, TV shows and books…are key to helping time stamp your life’s moments. I remember MANY things around movies, songs, what I was reading…or even where I visited. Share some of YOUR favorite movie moments with me…

…ROLL that beautiful bean footage! lol

Billy the Bully

You all know or knew Billy…the bully. Remember that kid. He was bigger than everyone in his class and his shirt didn’t cover his stomach anymore than his pants covered his ass? His parents couldn’t afford the fly shit, so dude walked around beating the crap out of kids who were dressed better? His ass would come through and smack the shit out of you just because you had a name. “What’s your name?” You’d shudder and reply, “Lenny…”.  :::SMACK::: “That’s a STUPID name!”. 

Yea…you remember him. All jokes aside, Billy was troubled then, and if he didn’t get the snot whooped out of him or someone didn’t blast his crazy ass…he’s somewhere looking like the adult version of his grade school persona. Still knocking over people in the attempt to exact some control in his life. If some woman felt sorry enough, she married him or had a few of his spawn and he’s smacking them around for just being.

I am STILL not joking…

This is what happens to a lot of bullies. Misery becomes his best friend like Linus’ blanket. He drags it everywhere he goes. Chances are…Billy Jr., Billimina and Billisha…are bullies, too. Dad has made life hell at home, so they’ve grown accustomed to exacting control on the school yard…OR the Internet. 

When I did an online talk show a couple of years ago…the producer had a PSA from the Ad Council.  Some little chick “ding-dongs” on her friend’s bell, waltzes in as she greets the mother…and as SOON as she rolls up on her “friend”, she goes IN. She goes from telling her that her dress makes her look like a clown, to her breath smelling like garbage, to her disclosing the fact that the REASON they know it smells like garbage is because the boy she kissed says so. I mean REALLY? I would’ve beat her ass on MY living room floor. As soon as the first words exited her mouth, Megan or Judy or whatever her name was would’ve been swallowing those words whole. The motto?  “Cyber-bullying…if you wouldn’t do it in real life…don’t do it online.”. I would always follow it up with, “Why do it at all?”.

Secret: “I” was “Billy”… 

I remember being a mean child. I was feeling some kinda way about mom, or the new baby, or dad, or whatever…and I’d go to school and slug upon some unsuspecting children. My mother even walked up on me in the middle of me doing a “Sluggo” on some poor girl.  I got spanked…I think. Either way, some years down the road…I traded in my bully fits for a new outfit. I donned a cape and a “U” on my chest. “Underdog Girl”. I wouldn’t bother anyone and I wouldn’t fight if approached…well, if they hit me it was on…but, I let people talk themselves blue, while inwardly DARING them to hit me. YET, if someone picked on a friend of mine…I was ON it! To this day, I don’t take kindly to someone just going in on someone who not only didn’t ask for it…but isn’t willing to speak up. I got a lot of respect for being that one to do that FOR them. I didn’t NEED the respect….but, yea…I made sure no one took me for light and that no one beat up on weaker folks when I was around. To this day, I’m fiercely protective of anyone who I love…and some who I don’t even know.

I wonder what happened though…

I wonder what happened to the little girl I beat up in kindergarten for nothing…

The child in the bathroom stall who I believe I was jealous of because she had on the prettiest outfit, the perfectly braided ponytails and cute glasses (which I believe I broke) ~sigh~…

The little girl who got cornered in the PJ’s hallway by myself and a friend…

God forgive me…I’m probably suffering behind that mess right NOW. *lmao*

Seriously…this blog came about because my sister Almond Joy aka Butterfly Effect posted about a young man named Tyler Clementi, who committed suicide. This young man jumped off the George Washington Bridge, because his roommate shared his homosexual escapades on Twitter via live cam links. WHY would that guy do that? Why would he expose that young man’s lifestyle like that? Why do people feel the need to “tower above” people with such disrespectful and hurtful things? All I know is that a young man is dead because of it. He didn’t feel he could tell a soul of his shame…so he decided his life had no value. NOW, the young man who revealed his secret has to live with this in HIS life. What a sentence.

Parents and adults need to…HAVE to do better. No, I’m not a parent, but damn it, I was a child once…and I know what happens when it’s not nipped in the bud. My mother nipped it in the bud. Children are our little reflectors. Children emulate what is shown to them. They have a distinct idea of us…and they personify it in the scariest ways. You’d be surprised how your little one views you. If we perpetuate rudeness, violence, dysfunction and hate…our children will mirror that. If we don’t cut it out in the early years, by the time grade school is out…they’re who they’re going to be until something traumatic evokes change in them. By then, they’re solely responsible for their own souls and actions. There’s got to be a resolution. The village is divided and in disarray. The home is not a haven anymore. The schools are glorified meeting places. It is imperative that the the village get rebuilt…and that the home be a safe place to be. Otherwise, our children will become bullies…or victims of bullies.

I am sorry to those children I hurt. I pray that their lives weren’t affected too adversely by any actions of mine. I accept my karma…I pray that I’ve protected enough people to bring balance. That is a sincere apology…and they probably will never see it.

My prayers go out to the Clementi family…and to all the families who have experienced similar losses.

Blah Blah Blah

Growing up, I remember how my father used to promise me things…and then disappoint. I always felt like he was REALLY gonna come through. Then at the last possible moment, he’d almost indignantly shrug his shoulders and say something like, “Kali…I had to do other things!” or “Kali, please don’t be mad baby…next time”. I would get so damned mad. I mean, as a kid what is the worst thing that can happen to you except getting your hopes built up high for the colossal let down? Gonna get that extra $20 this allowance…NOT. Gonna get to go shopping for those sneakers everyone else has…NOPE. Gonna take you to the Statue of Liberty…yea, ok. Over and over again, I got promised the world and got let down damn near every time. I remember being 15 or 16yrs old and once AGAIN, my father’s promises disintegrated into thin air with the night’s breeze. I don’t remember exactly what he’d promised…all I know is he didn’t come through. We lived in the projects…a building away from each other. He and my grandmother in one and my sister and I, in the other. We started out at his house and because it was night time, he chose to walk us home…me fussing the entire way as to why it was so unfair that he lied to me…

*sidebar* I have no problem disclosing that my dad at that time was addicted to drugs/alcohol. He has since been clean for the past 13yrs AND keeps his promises! 😉

…so, my father is getting irritated and begins to brush me off. I too, frustrated as hell…get irritated. I walk ahead, mumbling under my breath while my dad is walking with my sister who was about 9 or 10. We get into “our” building and as we wait for the elevator he tries to calm me with apologies and more promises to make up for the other broken ones lying at my feet. I tune him out. The elevator arrives and he kisses my sister goodbye and attempts to lean in to me and I back away and put my hand up. He says, “Alright, Kali…bye.” My sister and I step into the ill-odored space, press 6 and watch him close the door and walk away. Now, if you don’t know…in most PJ’s there was the door that slid…and the one that opened first. Right before the sliding door closed, I kicked the one that opened…but, instead of it swinging open and back…it fell off the hinges. This STEEL DOOR got kicked off the hinges. Now, my father was barely in the safe zone. That door fell RIGHT at his heels…missing him by a mere inch or less. He said, “What the fuck? Are you crazy?” Not so much because he almost got cartoon hammered into the lobby floor, but because he most likely couldn’t fathom his teen daughter kicking a door of that weight off it’s hinges. My sister started to get scared…me, I’m even MORE pissed. This means…I’ve got to walk 6 flights of stairs to the apartment. The entire way, he’s yelling and cussing and scolding and blah blah blah. I get in the house and he tells my aunt what happened, and she puts her 2 cents in. By that time, I am so NOT fearing anyone’s discipline. Fuck it, I’m tired and done with half-assed behavior from adults who want full-assed behavior *lol* from me. Ultimately, I don’t get any real punishment…accept walking up the stairs another day. (btw…funny that on my way to school the next morning, I hear the custodians, who are now picking up the door; asking who in the world would tear the door off, while I proverbially whistle and scurry by) LMAO.

I, to this day…cannot stand a liar…a breaker of promises or whats more…an EMPTY promise maker. Someone whose intentions fall short in THOUGHT. Someone who makes promises to keep a situation at bay or to seem like they’ve got it all under control, when they know that they don’t possess the wherewithal to complete the thought let alone the promise. As adults, you have the ability to do one of two things when making a statement. Tell the truth…whatever that shall be…or LIE and know that with each lie, promise, fallacy…your character diminishes. In the final moments…it is YOU that looks bad and has no credit. BAD credit…to which steals your ability to get big ticket items…like TRUST and RESPECT!

Just keep it real. With that…I bring you a song by Mr. Chap f/Slim Breeze “Blah Blah Blah”…enjoy..lol

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