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H on est ly ,

The night is always darkest just before the dawn.

27.7.09

My mom is into those relationship ads people put on Craigslist. One day, she was browsing them, and she ran across this black man, who claimed he didn't date black women because he thought they were crazy, and he had a daughter by a white woman, so what would it say to her if he started dating black women now?

I admit, I suffer from the typical "another good one lost" syndrome when I see a fine black man with a white woman. But I've noticed, that that's only since I've moved up here. Oregon is less then 10% African American. There are no black people here, and so it irritates me to no end to see that black men won't even date black women, because they've been so brain washed, falling for what "beauty" is, in the media's eyes. White women with blond hair and blue eyes. The shit's not fair.

You know why they say they don't want to date black women? Answers I've actually heard? We're ugly. Crazy. Disgusting. What am I supposed to say to that? What am I supposed to do with that? That's why I don't date up here. I don't discriminate. I've dated white guys, hispanic guys, asian guys, but there's nothing more beautiful to me than a black man.

So what am I supposed to do when black men call me disgusting without having ever met me? I get pissed off. I know there are probably more rational responses, but that's the first one that comes up.

But, what would you expect, I'm a crazy, emotional, black woman.

In other news, my second interview with Wells Fargo is on Thursday afternoon. I'm madd pumped about that. I get to go shopping for it tomorrow. I'm even more excited for that. It hit 109 today. Which is absolutely infuckingsane, because I live in Oregon. It rains 8.5 months out of the year here. For it to be in the triple digits at all is insanity.

I didn't really have anything to blog about. I'm done. But erm

Till Next Time: Positive energy, high hopes, & love♥;


Ashley

just another little black girl with dreams. I play my music too loud, and I don't listen. I'm only at peace when I'm in pain: when my wrist is sore from writing my emotions out like blood on the band-aid of a page, or when my throat is raw from singing my thoughts like tears into the air. I'm conflicted, and unrepentant, and I like the way this blogging shit makes me feel. This is the one and only place I'll never lie, honestly.

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