By Ivanna Marie Elliott

These are the thoughts when Ivy is Blue (get it?)

I been gone for a minute
Now I’m back with the jump off.

Lil’ Kim – The Jump Off (my favorite female rap song)

I never really quite understood what the “jump off” is. Or rather… I hope it doesn’t mean what I think it does Don’t judge me… I was 13 when it came out.

ANYWAYS…
It’s been a tough few weeks for me. Unbelievably hard. The waiting, the emails, the 100+ applications that I’ve sent out in January alone… Unemployment is the hardest thing I have ever been through.

I received an email today about a job that I really wanted.
I didn’t get it

I wanted to throw everything in my room on the floor, break the mirror, and toss my laptop out the window… But I resisted all the urges, and sat and thought.

1. Depression kills. As in it stinks, but wait… it does kill.

2. It’s been eight months since I graduated college. Whatever I’m doing is not working. A new plan is needed.

3. I can’t do it alone. A lot of my friends who scored awesome jobs got lucky. As in contacts who helped them get the position. I’m still waiting on that…

4. I need a support system. I barely talk to my parents about anything other then television, the weather, my family, and sports. So who do I talk to? My poor boyfriend. He must be tired of me by now.

So in all of this I decided that I need to change my plans. My career path isn’t defined by what the textbooks and professors told me. I have to go about this a different way.

Now, I’ll wipe away the tears and start anew. I’ve been gone for a minute but I’m back!

Life perfect ain’t perfect
If you don’t know what the struggle’s for
Falling down ain’t falling down
If you don’t cry when you hit the floor
It’s called the past cause I’m getting past
And I ain’t nothing like I was before
You ought to see me now
Yes, I was burned but I call it a lesson learned

 Lesson Learned by Alicia Keys (feat. John Mayer)

I can’t say that I have a favorite song by Alicia Keys. Album after album she has inspired me, and I love every song on each of them. I woke up singing this song today and decided to share it with you! Enjoy

The plot: a 17-year-old girl committed suicide because naked pictures of her were sent to her classmates and some school officials and she loses a scholarship to a college for the next year.

The story is sad, but the acting is worse. The mother’s investigation of her daughters suicide is long and overdrawn.

The ending of the movie was beyond cheesy. The girl’s friend arranged an assembly. If I was supposed to be moved by this part I’d at least hope that Lifetime could fill half of the seats in the auditorium for the movies purpose. The friend gave a speech and students stood up one-by-one and put their cell phones into a bin on the stage.

What? This isn’t some DO NOT Text while driving campaign. I don’t see the point of that. Won’t all the students go back and pick up their iPhones and Android phones?

“I’m sorry but my mom would kill me,” I’d reply as I go back on stage after the assembly to retrieve my phone.
 

Suicide is Not for Me

I’ve been thinking a lot about suicide and bullying. I don’t plan on killing myself. There’s just been a lot of news coverage about bullying and suicide – “What should be done?” “Should the kids who bully go to jail?” Etc.

I was bullied in middle school and in high school. Matter-of-fact, it got so bad in high school that my guidance counselor called in my father and tried to persuade him to transfer me to another school in another district. My father wouldn’t have any of that. He raised a strong black woman, as I always put it, and no one could hurt me.

I went to church with a young man who committed suicide years later, a family member of mine attempted suicide, and we recently had a near scare with a close friend of mine… So I’m not far from the issue. I know it’s real. I don’t want to make light of it.

I want to teach my children that they are strong. They can endure anything that life throws at them. They may not like it, but life has its ups and downs. Everything I just said sounds a little cliché, but I think what helped me through these past years, and this rough patch in my life, is some kind of inner strength. I’m not sure where it is inside of me or how it got there, but I know it’s there.

There are always people who are worse off than you. There will always be people who may be better off than you. If you fail and give up we will never know if you could or couldn’t succeed. I’ll always take the chance, stay strong and keep fighting. I am not a quitter. My parents didn’t raise a quitter, my grandfather didn’t spend his whole life working for me to quit, my ancestors didn’t endure slavery and the Jim Crow south so I could quit. Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X didn’t die so I could quit. No! Times may be rough but this is not the end. I refuse to take the easy way out.

That’s my spiel. I hate suicide. I still believe that at times demons take over the mind and convince people that dying is the better option; it’s that or they’re on medication, clinically depressed or punks.

I’m no punk.

Don’t get caught up in no throne. Towers of Babylon rise up and so they shall fall. As it was written before, amen, so it goes on.

Yasmiin Bey

I am not a hip-hop enthusiast, as I said before, I leave that to my brother. I do have every album dropped by rappers Nas and Kanye West, but other than that… my hip-hop knowledge is derived from my brother. With that said, when I appreciate a song (on my own) I think it means that much more.

Brooklyn bred rapper Yasmiin Bey’s (formerly known as Mos Def) new song Niggas In Poorest is a conscientious and thought-provoking remake of Jay Z & Kanye West’s song Niggas in Paris.

I love when you have to look at the lyrics to get the true depth of the song. Maybe it’s the poet in me  Niggas In Poorest is definitely not simple music for simple people. Mos Def Yasiin Bey is better than that.

When I first heard the Jay/Yeezy version I thought to myself “Wow, I really wish they didn’t use that word.” To me the song could have done without it. But according to my brother it is supposed to be some kind of revealing and deep song about the treatment of rich black men in Paris compared to how rich black men are treated in America.

Yea… whatever. I love the beat, but he refers to Beyoncé as a b*tch… and my thought process stops there.

I prefer Bey’s version… now this is deep. But truthfully speaking, you can’t really appreciate it fully without first listening to the Jay Z & Kanye version.

My father's old copy of the book

Today I found Martin Luther King Jr.’s book Why We Can’t Wait stuffed into an old box in the corner of my brother’s room. The old copy is the first published edition after King’s death. My father borrowed the book from the St. George Public Library, in Staten Island, NY… It never made it back.

My father, James Sr., was eight years old when King was martyred. He remembers his older sister Fran running into the house screaming, with tears streaming down her face. My aunt was a member of the local Black Panther party, and like many black Americans at that time, she, and the rest of my family, revered Dr. King.

Today is his birthday.

I’m not sure if I should light a candle, hold vigil, watch the marathon of Martin Luther King movies and documentaries on television, or sit here and reflect.

With the copy to my right, I decided that in honor of Dr. King I will stop learning about him from biographies, television, and textbooks. I will push aside my Patterson novel for two days and read Why We Can’t Wait tonight and all day tomorrow. The influence and magnitude of what he writes, even in just the introduction, perplexes me. He was brilliant beyond belief.

I’m not saying anything that isn’t widely known… but I thought today, in honor of this great man who helped truly free my people, I need to write something. Anything.

And here I am.

My grandfather was born into the Jim Crow south. My father was chased by Italian boys down the streets of Staten Island because he took the wrong way home. My grandparents had to use “Colored Only” restrooms. My ancestors were lynched, belittled (to say the least), hosed down, and shamed because of the color of their skin.

Picture I took while in DC

Without dwelling on the past, which I can truly say is still affecting us today… In 2012 we are free at last. Some progress still needs to be made but King’s vision has come to pass.

To that – I’d like to thank Dr. King for all he did for my people and this country. Because of him, and the other civil rights leaders, I am here today. I am proud to be from the same lineage that produced the greatness that was Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and I am so proud of my people.

God bless and have a wonderful Sunday

There has been a lot of talk about the woman who recently got “DRAKE” tattooed across her forehead. I don’t like him as an artist, nothing personal, my brother is the hip-hop fanatic in the house. He dislikes him and says Drake is not “real hip-hop.” So… I agree.

Anyways, let me bring it all together. After reading the article on the woman with the Drake tattoo, I read an interview with the tattoo artist on Vice.com. My favorite quote:

“In my opinion this whole world’s going to shit, and shit rolls downhill, so I might as well just jump in, hold my breath, and pray to G-d that there’s a nice big soft puddle of diarrhea for me to land in once everything hits the fan.”

Brilliant. I laughed the whole way through the article.

You should definitely take a look at it. I never heard of anyone referring to another person as a goofnugget. Childish yet offensive. I like it.

Of course I'll be the caramel Goddess version of this

Have you ever dreamed of getting married? Not the actual 30-40 plus years of being with that person just the wedding.

I know some men think it’s silly, and I always tell my girlfriends to stop coming up with baby names because “we’re too young.” But the reality is… I’m 22 and not getting any younger. My best-friend from childhood is getting married in eight months and one of my closest friends from high school had my godson three years ago. So… we’re obviously not too young anymore.

I’ve had the same boyfriend for the past three years and I love him. He’s been my rock for some time now. When is it that a daddy’s girl goes from depending on her dad to her boyfriend? And is that healthy? (Just food for thought for… me I guess)

Right now, I can’t quite live with someone else other than family or my girlfriends (even some of them I’d hate to imagine living with). My boyfriend is from the south, and me being from New York – I notice the difference. I move efficiently (i.e. rush) and he takes his time. I fly through a yellow light, he slows down. I use my own definition of the ‘right-of-way’ – he’ll let everyone through to “avoid any mistakes.” He takes thirty minute showers, I get it done in 5-7.

This picture looks like some of my grandparents old pics

I sleep on the edge of my pillow. He sleeps with four or five. Around 68 degrees does it for me, he’d rather 81. I’m a vegetarian, he’s a meat-man. (Can I fault him for that one? Not really.) He likes a good debate to “stimulate the mind,” I am as afraid of a friendly debate as I am a Rottweiler.

When it comes to us and marriage there is no rush. We’re young right?

But… I still dream. Why is that? Do we stop dreaming of the wonderful blow-out wedding once we’re married? Or do we always dream of ways that we could have made it bigger? The money we could’ve saved to have the best band, more chicken, open-bar, etc.

And what’s next after this particular dream? I guess the first child, then the second, then maybe a third. What happens after that?

Do we start dreaming of retirement? Gosh, I hope not.

Anyways, I dream about my wedding. I’m going to be the most beautiful bride. My dreams tend to begin with me walking down the aisle. I’ll be in a mermaid ivory gown, with just the right amount of cleavage and the fabric clinging to my curves, giving me that coke bottle body I’ve always dreamed of but lacked the hips to show off.  Everyone will be staring, “Ohhh… Ahhh… Ivy looks so pretty!”

I will be a diva in something like this!

My brother will have tears in his eyes and my father looks slightly upset as he walks me down the aisle… I’m his little girl you know. My auntie is next to my mom holding on to her arm and they’re nearly weeping together.

Next the groom will look up at me and his eyes will light up. Cut to the next scene, we’re kissing, rings have been exchanged and now we’re taking photographs outside of Park Plaza.

Next scene is the toast, my sister Jen and my best-friend Brittney speak for under a minute, we all sip champagne after our dinners and then the party begins.

Generally I end it there. I left out all the details of planning, the bridesmaids and groomsmen, the photographers, the cake (red velvet!) and the band… all the small details that really matter.

Oh well… it’s just a dream right?

I always tell my friend Brittney that we’ll plan both of ours together… I’ve dreamt it. She’ll see to it that it comes to pass

Today’s jealousy is tomorrow’s temper tantrum. Today’s bigotry is tomorrow’s hate crime. Today’s anger is tomorrow’s abuse. Today’s lust is tomorrow’s adultery. Today’s greed is tomorrow’s embezzlement. Today’s guilt is tomorrow’s fear. Today’s thoughts are tomorrow’s actions.

From Give it All to Him by Max Lucado.