How to Know if Your Guy Loves you

In relationships the sweet essence of a blossoming bond is something that lasts often for months and the real climatic struggle can last the length of the relationship.

How to know if your guy loves you… Honestly, how does anyone know the quintessential meaning of the word love?

Words are just words, someone once to told me, for some reason it takes women a long time to understand that a man's true character is based on his actions and not his words. When I thought about that comment that came from a guy of course, I thought about the genuineness that lied within his effortless statement. This guy’s level of expression coupled with his need for me to truly believe this is what it is made me think.

How to know if your guy loves you…

Frankly there are many people who will try to convince you that a guy must give you the last piece of food, or open doors, and introduce you to his friends or family. Through it all yes, manners are important, and sharing your complete life goes unequivocally with loving a person, but the real important is what he does for and with you. His true character will shine through and convey ones true intent.

How to know if your guy loves you or when…

The taboo topic of trying to figure out that awkward time between when you know you’re in love and the point of actually saying the words. Who say’s it first or how do you know he loves you?

I say speak your mind, if you trust your instincts they’re probably feels the same way as you only fearful of your response. I like to think of it as breaking the love ice. Overcoming the chilly moment of not knowing; I always think it is better to know then not.

But who am I to know if your guy loves you…This is just my guy and I.

The Truth Behind the Truth

When you think that you are done with sorrow it finds away to rear its ugly head.

“Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you are going to get.”(Gump) I was sitting on the couch with my guy flipping channels. I stopped on channel twenty-six because Forrest Gump was playing. I tuned in just in time for my favorite part. “Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you are going to get.”(Gump) We were sitting on the couch in lounge position; I was anticipating my trip back home. It was the first time in a year I would go back to San Diego. “Babe, so tell me why you must leave to go back to San Diego?” “It is two days, that’s it. Don’t worry, I’m coming back.” I was actually going back to San Diego to get a birth certificate and so my mom could meet with a realtor to sale our home. I was dreading the drive that my father insisted would take me five hours to complete.

I woke up at two fifty am; I knocked on my cousin Kerrie door, in took that Friday off and she invited herself to go with us. I began packing an overnight bag all while my mother is sleep. This was so unusual because she is always an early bird. With no alarm or anything, she will just awake magically at the time she needs to be up. We leave a little after four am and drive the four and half hours later I am in San Diego. It’s pouring raining my mother is complaining because she wanted to lie on the beach, my cousin is complaining because she is late for a hair appointment and I am complaining because I’m in the car with two complainers. That was the story of my life, as I head downtown to pick up my birth certificate the rain lighten, I called my guy to let him know I made it safely…

Later that day I was sitting on my grandmother couch. The couch was a 1960’s solid wood framed couch, with itchy mustard colored fabric. I laid down in attempt to take a nap only I was on the move again. Chauffeuring my mother around everywhere except to the realtor. I thought it amazing; I got my birth certificate my cousin got her hair done and my mother still procrastinating. I manage to make my way back to grandma’s couch only to have Kerrie and Artesia walk in. Artesia was Kerrie and I childhood friend. We have known her since kindergarten. She and I went to school together, every school in fact. We knew everything about each other. For example I knew she was dating a guy who cheats on her with his ex-girlfriend who he got pregnant within the four years they have been dating. I really love her because she is a great person, she just doesn’t in my opinion think she can find or maybe even deserves better. We know everything about each other, for instance my under lying reason for not wanting to hang out with her and my cousin.

As I lay on the couch talking to my guy telling him that I’m going some place before I head to the hotel, my uncle Malcolm interrupts my conversation to tell me about The Rock Church. He begins to tell me that The Rock is a new church in Point Loma across the street from old high school. “The church is beautiful Mercedes, the sound system is amazing. The church is huge with thousands of members. You have to see it.” I thought about the name, The Rock, The Rock. Artesia begins to tell me that she attends that church and the pastor delivers sermons on a jumbotron.

When you think that you are done with sorrow it finds away to rear its ugly head.

That night I found myself looking for a store to buy a beach ball. The hotel my mom booked was amazing; after we checked in I open the patio window and found the beach outside my door. My mother and I walked two inches past the patio, and then are feet hit the sand. It was the most amazing view the lights from the boats lit up the harbor. As I turn on to Nimitz Street I immediately recognize the area. I am in the same neighborhood as my old high school. I drive past my school and then I see a Vons Grocery store. I am wondering were The Rock Church is located. I am driving around these winding poorly lit streets trying to find this church. I finally see a directory on the corner; I stop dead in the middle of the road. I’m wondering if I should get out and look. It is pouring raining at this hour and I want to get out only I have no jacket. I decide to pull over up head on the other side of the street. I hop out of my car and dash down to the street, trying to read the directory. The rain was heavy and I couldn’t walk away. I was there already, I stood there as the rain seeped through my clothes and I found the corner where the rock church was located. I dashed over there desperate to see it.

When I got out front it was fully lit up with people coming and going. I parked on a side street and walked up to the front; I asked the people out front who seemed to be guarding it, “may I go inside?” The elderly man said, yes of course. I slowly walked in; I admired the art work which was made by the children of the church. I kept walking back; I walked all the way to the other side of the church out the double doors. This appeared to be the front. There was a large memorial outside the building, I only glanced at it, and I walked back inside and into the sermon room. There was a man who seem to be the pastor, delivering is sermon. I sat down in the very back pew and began sobbing. I didn’t truly know why I, I wasn’t listening to the man speak, I was just sitting there crying my eyes out…

Then I remembered what forest Gump said on that movie, “Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you are going to get.”(Gump) Immediately my eyes began to dry up, I felt certain that either I had been there before or should have been. Nevertheless, something had drawn me to Nimitz Street, which led me to find my school that prompted me to stand in the rain looking for The Rock, all in which led me to tears in church pew at nine-thirty at night.

The Phases of Life

Walking
At night my guy and I would walk for blocks catching up on our days. He works 30 hours a week and is a full time student the same as I. We choose to walk away all of our troubles, communicating to one another, in ways that only walking can cure. Although we walk my guy hates it, he says, “I feel like I’m getting no where.” I often explain you’re getting somewhere with me. Once we walked in circles for blocks, our first date we walked, our second date we walked. Walking with us leads to talking and within those conversations great expression and growth comes. One late evening he and I set out on a random walk, his family was having a gathering and just to get away we set out on a journey. The skyline was orange and reddish, beautiful in unimaginable ways. On this particular walk there was very little conversation, he was holding my hand firmly, as I looked up to ask what was wrong, the flashing lights stop us in our tracks. It was a police car patrolling his neighborhood. That evening we never spoke one word, nothing of significance. That too was our last walk and now almost six months later we still do not walk, or talk they way we only could during our walks.

Eating
My nephew is 4 years old. When he was a baby I taught him how to walk and talk and eat. Over the course of his fours of living I taught him all the basics. My nephew Sir goes to preschool for a week and those children manage to undo four years of learning to eat, speak, and walk correctly. Its funny how children can learn to eat at home with manners then go to a different environment filled with peers and change there behavior entirely. “Sir, wipe your face.” “Sir Benjamin Carter, wipe your face!” In this instance my nephew is trying my patience and about to lose some of his privileges. He still does not wipe his face, which is covered in barbeque sauce from his chicken. I physically walk over to him and wipe his face for him. As I kneel down to explain the importance of table manners he turns to me and demonstrates wiping his face. At that moment I could do nothing but smile. He is after all my angel, the one I taught to talk, walk, and eat.

Talking
My best friend Mia, never spoken on the phone, she would text message and email but never call. One day I asked her why she didn’t like to speak on the phone. Mia’s response because my ear gets sweaty, we laughed until it hurt. I told her to try Bluetooth’s, it would allow you to talk for hours and not get a sweaty ear. The next day she picked me up and we walked into Verizon Wireless, she asked for a Bluetooth from one of the sales representatives. The guy who looked old enough to be her dad said, “Right this way pretty lady’s, come over here and let me show you mine.” We looked at one another in utter disgust trying not to laugh. After it was all said and done the Bluetooth Mia wanted was one hundred an twenty dollars. Mia said, “My ear can sweat a lifetime before I get a Bluetooth.” She and I walked down the mall, laugh, talking. We stopped at hotdog on a stick to see my cousin. She gave us our lemonade and cheese on a stick and we strolled some more. Mia and I walked, talked, and ate. We finally came full circle to the Verizon store and she walked in grabbed the Bluetooth, paid and walked out. I stood outside laughing and gesturing to her ear, asking if our walked cause her ear to sweat a lifetime.

How to write all about my love...

How can I take this blank canvas and turn it into me: You want to know all about me? I think deep thoughts; I dream beyond the horizon, I’m a one of a kind strong African American female.
I jump through hoops, run past dreams, into the arms of me.
I depend on air to help me breathe, I trust in god to provide that air for me.
You tell me I can’t and I show you I can.
How am I turning this blank canvas into me: I use colors, words, feelings, sounds, touches, and kisses?

When I sleep at night and my dreams turn from black and white to color, I know that the next day I will awake, because the dreams I have dreamt, is about the day I have yet to breathe. How can I take this blank canvas and turn it into me, ultimately I’m trying to find me, find were my love begins and ends.

“Love is a poem I’ll spend a life time writing.”

When those words were uttered to me, my life became different, my all about me changed. When you’re a child you feel that those first crushes will make or break you, I know I did. Everyone believes they know what love is. I know when I was young I thought I knew what love was, until those words

“LOVE IS A POEM I SPEND A LIFE TIME WRITING” until those words were uttered to me, and only then I new my lifetime was just beginning.

Now I know, Love is a poem I will spend life time writing... More so, all about me is a canvas, I'll spend a lifetime painting, creating and contemplating.

Giving vs Lacking

I’ve recently read “The Death of the Moth” by Virginia Woolf. This essay was very complicated for me to grasp. I’m not sure if it was the fact I was reading the essay at two am in the morning or I just did not grasp the total point or deeper purpose. To me it made no sense as to why she would simply over write about something as simple as a moth. Then I understood that is was different voices. Three different aspects to bring something with no purpose a life, I grasped that the power was in given something that lacked function three voices.

I began to right my blog on “The Death of the Moth” then I remembered the essay written by Bhanu Kapil Rider called “Three Voices”. This essay I could clearly see the different voices. The way her sentences were simple with no extra unneeded wording. I really enjoyed the simplicity of the essay. When I read the essay I felt the desire she lacked. I could feel her loneness. The blood orange stuck in her throat was stuck in mine. I really learned how to keep the reader on edge until the very last minute of the stories climax. The climax in her essay began very early and lasted until the very end when she told him as she felt.

Overall these essays taught me that little is more than enough. Virginia Wolf’s essay taught me that allowing the reader to intrepid instead of over explaining everything can be very useful. Giving just enough for the reader to pause and relate the story to themselves. Bhanu Kapil Rider showed me that lasting intrigue can be useful of something deep in interpretation. She also taught me that short sentences can add too a reader wanting too keep reading. Overall these essay’s are the best I have read in this book, at least the one’s that make me think the most.

Reminiscent of...

I.
The air conditioning blew my hair every which way. The boy who resembled a man stacked the boxes high. Boxes stacked as tall as the sky, never ending reminiscent of earth. The phones were ringing hysterically suggestive like his feelings. I typed slowly in order to achieve precision as I worked. Today I could not prevent the consciousness of eyes. It is five in the evening slowing time at our place of employment. The slowness as the sun crept down began to draw the patrons in.

II.
Then, the young beaten down by the eyes that hunt her stops in her tracks, tells the boy reminiscent of a man: “I will not let you burn a whole in me, your twenty years old and evocatively a boy at heart. I will not fret at the thought of your ogle within my soul. That’s it!” The boy reminiscent of a man is not dim. He ogles with care, careful not to be caught. He replies: “Why must I stop realizing splendor?”
The lady speaks next. There is deep sensation within my soul.

III.
I feel comfort in awkwardness. I feel comfort in the boy reminiscent of a man. He speaks slowly with care and calm. I type one letter at a time, only to have a page that makes not sense. My friend once told me to feel the stares of a man is to feel comfort in the soul. I soon appreciate the boy reminiscent of a man is actually the man reminiscent of me.

Love Hate, back to Love?

If my cell phone doesn’t ring all day I’m in the best mood. I have LG Voyager. I spent an obscene amount of money on it and I’m ashamed to say. I’m really just one of those people who change there cell phones like their shoes, every six months I want a new one. My mother believes that my obsession with cell phones is an expense habit I cannot afford. Nevertheless, I have gone through six Voyagers’ in a year and half period. I touch, listen, feel, and hear, all with this lifeless device. “I love my cell phone” and then I drop it and feel bad for it. “I hurt my cell phone.” When over charging your phone it never really charges correctly again. “I hate this stupid piece of sh**t!” My cell phone is more than my means to communicate with the world, it has become my right or in my case left handed companion. Is it love or hate? In this case, it can be love until the new one comes along.


The Fight

“Where is your cell phone?” “What….Why are you waking me up?” “Where is your cell phone?” “What….Why are you waking me up; you know we can do this all day dad?” “I called you six times and you didn’t answer the phone once.” “Okay, and what did you want that I can help you with now?” “Well nothing I had to walk from the truck because you didn’t answer and you were sleep.” “Oh, so back to my original thought, why are you waking me up?” I never answered my cell phone; it’s always on vibrating mode from when I’m at school or work. That cell phone has gotten me into more trouble than I can imagine, mostly from not picking it up. I can’t even imagine how many arguments have sparked in my household over someone not answering their phone. The best part about it is my mother and I have declared my father the cell phone police. Chief “if you don’t answer your phone I’m going to arrest you.” The worst part is, I’m no longer a kid who doesn’t pay there own cell phone bill and I can still get it taken away for not answering. My mom and I say, chief “if you don’t answer your phone I’m going to arrest you” can have them cause were running away. Oh Yeah!


Chains

As everyone knows chain letters are the worst part about text messaging on a cell phone. At the same time and in the exact same breathe they can be the greatest. Text messaging is another language in its self. Companies have even been profiting by using text messaging lingo in there commercials. “IDK, my BFF Jill,” has become standard language for; “I have not a single clue.” The amusing part about it is when you text message that to someone they know exactly what you mean. Text messaging, chain letters, email and Aim are all apart of standard phone usage for so many in my life. The idea that we; touch, drop, move, charge, point, flip, snap, and click with our cell phones says something about personal feeling. The very idea of a fully virtual world with no human contact is scary. Feeling is never apart of the equation. Snapping a picture and clicking buttons is how we now express ourselves. The “Chains” are actually changes. Changes within our senses; we no longer have to feel one another. Clicking a button can allow us to say what we mean and not do as we feel. I myself am guilty of allowing my cell phone to express my feelings of remorse and happiness. Picking up the phone seem so much harder to do, when clicking is simply at my finger tips. I could probably go days without talking and only because, I perceive the emotion I’m trying to express is being received the way I intended. “Chains” is more than change, it is a means in which a generation may become tied down too and bound by in order to freely express. My chains of technology include my cell phone, two laptops, two desktop computers, my Nintendo DS, Nintendo Wii and my MP3 player. I have eight, how many do you have? I’m so afraid that these chains of technology that we as a society hold on to will one day hold onto us. No longer will they be chains, but instead we will be slaves carrying the lifeless “chains” that cannot freely express.