Well I'll Be Damned

Came across this on Pandora:

Deniece Williams - Silly

Silly Of me to think that I could ever have you for my guy
How I love you... how I want you...
Silly of me to think that you could ever really want me too
How I love you...

Chorus:
You're just a lover out to score
I know that I should be looking for more
What could it be in you I see
What could it be...
Oh, Love, oh, love, stop making a fool of me
Oh, Love, oh, love, stop making a fool of me

(Verse 2)
Silly of me to think that you could ever know the things I do
Are all done for you...only for you
Silly of me to take the time to comb my hair and pour the wine
And Know you're not there

Chorus:
You're just a lover out to score
And I know that I should be looking for more
What could it be in you I see
What could it be...

Oh, Love, oh, love, stop making a fool of me
Oh, Love, oh, love, stop making a fool of me

Ooh,

Verse 3
Silly of me to go around and brag about the love I found
And say you're the best, well, I cant tell the rest
And Foolish of me to tell them all that every night and day you call
When you could care less

Chorus:
You're just a lover out to score
And I know that I should be looking for more
What could it be in you I see
What could it be...
Oh, Love, oh, love, stop making a fool of me
Oh, Love, oh, love, stop making a fool of me

Ooh,Ooh,Ooh,Ooh,Ooh,...Silly
Ooh,Ooh,Ooh,Ooh,Ooh,...Silly
Ooh,Ooh,Ooh,Ooh... Silly
Ooh,Ooh,la,la,la,la,la,la,la...Silly
la,la,la,la,la,la,la,la,la,la,la...Silly

Let's get this out of the way

I really need to be outlining for my exam this weekend but I can't seem to make it happen because I can't stop focusing... on a cupcake. Well that's his nickname.

To give you all the details would be to take you back through 3 months of tit for tat. Happy for happy. Mad for Mad. Sad for sad. A lot of confusion and bad communication and really good sex. Sorry. But if I had to write a letter- i'd call it "let's get this out of the way"

Cupcake,

Now here I sit, in the library. Knees folded into my chest, blinking back tears. Lost and confused. Over-analyzing, over promising, under delivering. I hate you. I hate the situation. Mostly I hate myself for liking you and putting myself into this situation.

I know who I am. I know how I am. I know that I want rules and surety. I don't care what we do as long as we BOTH know that's what we're doing. If we're pausing on a sexlationship for you to get your shit together- fine. If we're pausing on an actual relationship for you to get your shit together- fine. If we're just friends- that's fine too. But let's call a spade a spade. Let's get this out of the way.

I want definition, i want boundaries, i want a clue please. But I'm not pushing him. I'm not commenting. I'm sitting here in the library. Knees folded into my chest, blinking back tears. When you sit down across from me and you flash that smile of yours I'll smile back. I'll be funny. I'll flip my hair. Inside though I'm screaming. I'm screaming for you to kiss me, to touch me, to tell me how beautiful you find me. I'm screaming for you to tell me who I am to you. Until you decide to do that... I'm sitting here in the library. Knees folded into my chest, blinking back tears. Let's get this out of the way.

Me.

Just keep swimming...

Anytime I just stop and sit still- even if only for a moment my heart hits the floor and I'm flooded with bottomness. Yes bottomness. I just think to myself about how everything I do and everything I am just means nothing. I don't even know what validation looks like anymore. I just feel like it doesn't exists. So many things come along when I'm allowed to be quiet and just with myself. It such a horrible, bottom falling out feeling that I keep moving. I sing Beyonce, I watch tv, I read a book. Anything- anything at all not to be alone with my own thoughts. It's almost like my worse enemy right now is myself.

I wrote on a piece of paper yesterday "one day it will all make sense- just keep swimming".... hopefully I'm right.

The Power of Sexy....

I think men overlook the power of making a woman feel sexy.

I don't mean the I'm trying to get into your pants sexy, but the every thing you do is sexy and it just makes me want you- all of you sexy. There is a difference.


I always have songs that take me back to a certain period in my life. "Umbrella" reminds me of walking across the bridge in London of '07. "Slow Down" brings me to the end of my freshman year of college. Tonight Maxwell's "Bad Habits" came on and I came back to a time... The song playing on the car speakers. The phone earbud in my hear. One hand on the steering wheel and the other... well let's just say it was occupied. 13 miles from his home. Long drive. I'm imagining him, imagining me, doing what he tells me. And I can see it in my head. I can see how sexy he finds me. How my voice changes the pace of his breaths. Flash backs to late nights, different cities, video chat. Lights, camera, action.

I walk into the door and he's ready. I'm ready. I watch him watch me and I want him. All of him. And he wants me. All of me. The curve of my breast, the beat of my heart, the sound of my voice, the softness of my lips, and my taste. He wants more than just my pants and I get it. I get it and I want to give it. Nothing like a man who makes you feel sexy, uninhibited, and just ready.

Crazy to think someone that I had no feelings for could do so much for me. I would love to tell him thank you- but you know how those things go.

a woman's career....

Funny business, a woman's career - the things you drop on your way up the ladder so you can move faster. You forget you'll need them again when you get back to being a woman. That's one career all females have in common, whether we like it or not: being a woman. Sooner or later, we've got to work at it, no matter how many other careers we've had or wanted. And in the last analysis, nothing's any good unless you can look up just before dinner or turn around in bed, and there he is. Without that, you're not a woman. You're something with a French provincial office or a book full of clippings, but you're not a woman. Slow curtain, the end.


- All About Eve

Law School Truism...

professor: let's say a circular saw explodes in my face, causing a fire in my garage, burning it to the ground, and i die. what am i entitled to?

student: you are entitled to....

professor: well i just fucking died, so i'm not entitled to jack shit. trick question.
---------------

"Westlaw and Lexis are like local drug dealers handing out free crack in schoolyards"
---------------
"Lawyers will never admit that they don't know anything….it's a reflex….it's not that they're arrogant, it's client management. You want the client to knows he came to the right place, that you are a wealth of legal knowledge that is going to figure out all of their problems. Even though in reality you have no clue."

basically.

Broken Promises

Said I'd never fall again.
Never like again.
Never play.

Took a year off from sex to keep men like you at bay and yet here you are.


I feel like I'm singing a damn stanza from "Nobody's Supposed To Be Here" only I'm singing some sad ass heartbreak song.


kill myself.