Friday, December 02, 2005

Lessons of Life...or Just This Week

This week has been a rich and slightly productive one (well largely unproductive, but we'll look on the bright side and count the fact that I was able to shower daily). As a professional student my ever present my ever present goal in life is to learn a few lessons. Because this is a self-help blog I am more than obliged to share the lessons I learned this week as the door of November hit me in the ass.

Lesson #1: (Sam the Ugliest Dog)
Often times beauty doesn't count. Now, I am a pretty sexy girl, (this isn't just self-proclaimed folks, it's a proven fact) and for some reason I just can't get...well, that. Genuine love and affection from someone I adore for a sustained period of time. Some loved this monster that passed as a dog. ( I guess it worked in Lilo and Stitch ) Am I not lovable? I'm nice... in a "I didn't poison your food" sort of way. But that's not what guys want. They want to feel like you might poison their food but somehow they stopped you. Why else would guys prefer obvious trolls over me.

Lesson#2 It's not me, some people just need to get over themselves. For example, with all the little asian boys and the rare bald black babies in the U.S. who need homes, I will give no kudos to someone who travels across the globe to adopt. It just seems just extra. Some people are extra, need extra, and feel that those who aren't just aren't good enough. They should wear scarlet E's.

Lesson #3 Just because you believe in something doesn't make it true.

UF 34 FSU 7

And it still hurts, badly.

Lesson #4 As long as they are 18, it doesn't matter.
Does it not bug you that Jared Leto as sexy as he is, can't seem to date anyone above 21 I have been waiting since My So Called Life to be of age...Lindsay Lohan, Ashley Olsen, Scarlet Johansson? When did I become over the hill?

Lesson#4 Never Marry A Virgin/The only person you've been with .

Unless both of you can be placed on either side of the "/". Inevitiably, one of you will find that the other was over-rated.
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Monday, November 28, 2005

Residual Turkey Syndrome

Turkey. I'm not a turkey. I ate a lot of turkey. Turkey makes me sleepy. What more can I say?

I thought long and hard about getting up for the upcoming and unstoppable horrors of Monday. Besides being grateful that I'm alive and can see another Monday blah blah blah, going back to your everyday routine (that you so desperately want to get away from) in two words...clearly blows. I can not begin to tell you of the unnecessary drama of this Ph.D program. It's like being hazed, except not nearly as exciting. Ha ha ha, I called it drama like I was on Laguna Beach. Perhaps MTV should make a reality T.V. show about my life. It would be called "True life: I am a hot girl who chose school instead of making money and getting laid on a regular basis." Oh that's too long for a title? How about this, "True Life: Grumpy as shit."

I said that I would use this break for a rejuvenation of sorts, you know as a pick me up. I am such a slacker. They are two seconds from throwing me out of this program. That's why I walk around the department with my head down, don't want to look anyone directly in the eye. I keep my office door closed. I was hoping the cranberry sauce and stuffing would boost my morale. Unfortunately I had weighted myself the Wednesday before. (I was checking to see if the scale still worked). What the break did do was let me catch up with my childhood buddies who have well, actual jobs, new cars and sparking pieces of jewelry that live on the ring finger of their left hand. Comparably, I have fifteen pounds that I need to lose, a salary in the low $13k's and this proclamation of um, bettering myself... It blows guys, the shit blows.

When I was young I thought I would have run off with a pro-football player by now!!! (I tried, that's another post) Not any of this shit. I just realized I might not live that young single well to-do- lifestyle. I won't be that 27 year old single girl driving a porche beating men off with my Chanel bag as I thought. I will be here, eating ramen...still. I think I have been staring at college-ruled paper too long. Who convinced me that this was a good idea?The holidays already make you dread going back to work but the thought of going back to overwhelming assignments and (ughhh!) finals really makes me want to drop my pencil and spring for something with real benefits i.e. health insurance. Hopefully I can pass this attitude off as Residual Turkey Syndrome and I avoid having one of those "meetings". Apparently, they have that here in academia too.
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Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Thow Away the Key

I had the opportunity to meet a bit of my past recently. It was good timing too because I have all but lost myself to this dry ass graduate school life. It unlocked alot of memories folks. I was reminded of how I got this way, bitter but hopeful, emotional but insensitive crazy but sane, mean as hell but surprisingly good in bed. It was the inevitable reunion between me and my Ex -(not-really-my) Boyfriend. I had been looking for him ever since I moved back to my hometown, no particular reason. But as always he found me.From him I learned to be patient with men, to let them roam, not to nag but to communicate my needs through more effective ways, namely ways that they wouldn't ignore by increasing the volume to the football game. I learned not to ask questions I didn't want to know the answer to and to take things for what they were. I learned how to be short changed. I learned how to love him while he was here and not miss him while he was gone. Essentially I have sharp relationships skills only applicable to non-committal relationships and being the woman on the side. But I can say I learned to be a woman about my shit.But this meeting was different (not that different but...) he apologized. For everything, from not taking me to Prom, to never making me his girlfriend. For everything that we have gone through over the gazzillion years it has been and that he always loved me. But duh! I knew he'd be sorry one day. No shit. But he made the biggest distinction that I perhaps was too young to know or could be the biggest crock of shit in the world...I was too good for him. Sure, now its obvious (am in grad school and he's going to do a bit of jail time next week.) But when I was young I didn't care. I just wanted to be the person he called when he got in trouble not just when he wanted to spend the night. I wanted to be the person he spent his um, "earnings" on. It’s the classic story about the good girl and the bad boy equipped with the whole-he knew I was too good for that and that I deserved better- bit. Besides I didn't need him to take care of me, my daddy does a damn good job.It's funny to hear that he is taking care of someone else now, when I had to settle. It hard to hear that he is going away for while after I just found him and that I...still believe in him. I am a special kind of woman, and I am confident about what I can offer in a relationship. I didn't need him to tell me that but in some odd way he gave me the ability to discover that on my own. He still has the key to my heart, although that can't unlock that cell hopefully it would remind him that he too deserves better. Which is why I never give out keys in relationships, you never get them back.
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Wednesday, November 16, 2005

My Computer has the Clap

I turned on my computer and it started doing some funny things. I can't tell you what exactly, I am a bit too embarassed. Think the electronic equivilant of odd discharge. Just as I had given up on battling the 34 Internet Explorer windows and losing the last draft of my assignment I'd been working on, I began to ponder that scary question "Where exactly has this computer been?" And I had to accept the possiblity that my computer might be a little whore.

No, a hoe. Cause a whore is probably making a little change and me and this heavy-assed Dell laptop are broke ass hell...literally. I remember when I first got this thing. It was so pure, it came in the mail looking pristine with the symbolic white styrofoam. A virgin, it didn't even have Microsoft word on it. I taught it everything it knows, I opened the doors to statistical packages and AIM. I showed it the good life! And this is how it repays getting infected. Letting any ol' flash drive dock in its USB port. Magically deleting the music I have on my computer. Downloading whatever random freebee and giving it an icon on my desktop. You can't just do that! Having an icon on my desktop is something special. You can't just give that kinda love away. I can't tell you how many hands have touched this computer, how many sites it has visited.... I just can't count anymore and remembering how my laptop disappointed me when I really needed it... sent only the most important assignment to my Professor for it to open as plain jibberish...twice. I can't stand to look like the town fool and that's what my computer has set out to do.

Perhaps I didn't treat it the way I should have. Sure, I had like 7GB of music on my hard drive and no I never really turned it off. Ever. I might have spent a little too much time downloading off these "illegal downloading sites". That's it. Maybe I pushed my laptop into betraying me with spyware, tons of it. Maybe if I treated it a little better my display screen wouldn't black out periodically causing me to smack it violently. Like now. I don't mean to, sometimes I get a bit carried away this laptop is always pushing my buttons.

I hope whatever connection my laptop had with...(sigh...) was worth the strain on our relationship. It is going to take many sessions with the Geek Squad to bring us back to where we used to be. I guess I should delete the porn now. Something tells me that will come up some where and I want to do my part to make this relationship work. Besides I don't want to look like the bad guy.
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Wednesday, November 09, 2005

2000 Hits

Shut up another post! Wow... I am on a blog roll! I am soooo excited to see my blog tracker go over a 2000 hits. Sure maybe um,1256 of them was me visiting my own site but you know any little brenchmark is a plus.

Speaking of 2000, I graduated highschool in 2000. (look, you saw my profile, it says I'm 23, don't act all surprised that highschool was not that far away for me) Since I moved back to my hometown, I have only seen my whole graduating class, my old spanish teacher that I hated, and other people speckled through out my past. And it blows. The stupid thing about it is some try to act like they don't REALLY remember where they saw you from. Um, could it be summer camp in the third grade and all four years of high school? Oh and let's not forget your mommy and my mommy work together. Yeah, you're an idiot you aren't fooling anyone.

Why do people do that?

Let's keep that blog tracker rolling. I mean I have a rate of 3 hits a day. That's good right?
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Monday, November 07, 2005

Very Random...I'm Coming Clean

What the hell? I am posting twice in one week? Am I getting my mojo back? Keep your fingers crossed. So I must admit that this past saturday morning after completing an online exam I quickly gathered my books and my bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and set up for what was going to be a gruesome day of studying. (Which translates into doing shit-else but studying the entire day, but I'm sure you guessed that.) As I scattered all of my folders, counted my highlighters and really put on the dramatic show entitled "Perils of a Serious Grad Student" for um, the pictures on my bedroom wall I eagerly turned my TV to MTV because I was QUITE sure there was going to be a Laguna Beach marathon.

Okay, I will procede to answer the burning questions I am sure you are having right now.

1. Yes, I watch Laguna Beach and I can hear you laughing.
2. Yes, I do hate Undergrads but obviously not whiny West-coast high school kids. I guess I am far enough removed that I am free to enjoy their "drama", find humor in their ill-fitted clothes and see them in their lavish homes. I mean it's not theirs, it's their Mommy and Daddy's and therefore I find no need to be jealous.
3. Yes, I am just a little ashamed. Don't rub it in.
4. Ever since Jessica said "Don't hate the game, hate the player" Clearly, messing the whole saying the fudge up, I was hooked. I'm easy like that.

So I literally waited all damned day, I mean they air this show at least a million times a day right? But on Saturday, nothing. I was like, totally bummed out that I couldn't find out what happend to Jason and Lauren cause like, Jason is totally a male hoe. I was like, going though some kinda craving because I might have checked MTV like, every 30 minutes. But they had a freaking Made marathon like, who freaking watches Made? Made is for losers. I was like, totally spazzing and humming the theme song by Hillary Duff under my breath the entire day! ' Let the rain fall down la la la la ...I'm coming Clean...' And like, talking like I was a cast member of the show, ... out loud...the whole day. Omigosh!

Not watching a Laguna Beach marathon messed up my studying moral and might have ruined my entire weekend. We can't let this happen again. I know this was random but it was important to share. I haven't felt this way since Ally McBeal. Yes, I watched Ally McBeal. I know you did too. Come Clean.
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Wednesday, November 02, 2005

I need a face lift

Even though the birds ain't churping and the sun ain't shining, it looks like a beautiful morning.
-Little Brother

It so has been two weeks since I posted. What is wrong with me? When I first started bloging... I couldn't even sleep! (I had insomnia at the time) I would just lay awake thinking of all the cool things I could post about. Now, nothing. Why? Whyyyyyyyyy!!!!

I started to think maybe it is because I have said everything I had to say. I mean, I sleep perfectly fine now, I am no longer suffering from anxiety and quite frankly, I don't read self-help books any more. Has my blog become pointless?

I have found my life as a Ph.D student a bit drier than wheat toast. I should be joyful, I have no drama. Nope. None. All I can complain about is school, tests, papers and the "upperclassmen" of my program, so to speak. And I am starting to get a bit bored and irritated. Healthy relationships, lifestyles and jobs are BORING! And for some reason fattening. When I was crazy and losing my hair I was um, a size 3-4. Hair is easy to replace and Zuki Lui always gives me a good great deal on the top of the line weave and fine tresses. I might have been crazy but I was a sexy mutherF#$5er! It was the first time I looked in the mirror and was satisfied with the way I looked. Now that I am healthy I am a size 8. I know, I know that isn't that big but it seems like it when all you have are size 4 and 6 clothes.

Furthermore, when I was a bit unsure of myself, I used to actually exercise my constitutional right to coordinate and dress in matching attire. Now it seems as if I am allergic to looking presentable. I have no one to really impress. The pressures of undergrad no longer apply to me. I don't think my outfit will make me the most popular girl on campus. So I might find myself wearing flip flops and the thrice worn jeans with a wrinkled the movies on date night. Imagine what I wear to class. I don't even wear make up anymore. I went out as my natural self for Halloween. It was indeed very scary.

The funny thing is all I do is complain about this. I have yet to actually...put on an outfit. It really has an effect on my everyday mood. When did I get this way? When did I let myself go, stop posting regularly, gain 12 pounds. Something has to give. I need a face lift. Tomorrow is a brand new day and I should be excited every minute of it. So in efforts to re-something related to get excited-I changed the look of my blog. I might wake up early to do my hair tomorrow, but I can't promise the outfit. That seems a bit drastic.
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Sunday, October 16, 2005

Hometown Freebie

There has been something on my mind that I really want to talk about. Now I know that I'm starting as if this is the first time that I've talked about this, don't be misled. I have been rattling off about this all week. I just decided it was just big enough for me to blog about it. Just big enough by this much (picture a tiny space).

I had originally resolved to not tell my exact place of residence because I was sure to be posting some pretty explicit stuff and I didn't really want it to be traced back to me. You know, legal name me. But what the hell...

I grew up in a small city called Tallahassee, Florida. Yep, moved here when I was five. I left when I was twenty-one and lo and behold...I'm back at twenty-three. I know, couldn't stay away. I think I enjoyed growing up here. I think. I do remember not liking the fact that all the Nickelodeon tours and the cool-ass concerts NEVER came to Tallahassee. The biggest shows to ever come during my youth was Boyz II Men and MC Hammer. Hammer don't hurt 'em! And we are still talking about it.
It is actually a cozy place, the capital city of Florida 50% middle class and lot's of trees. It is the perfect little city for a pretty young girl to write poems about leaving. Oh my gosh!!! I was going to leave this town and never come back! Tallahassee is like a free standing suburb without that big city. However, I ultimately stayed for college and Tally IS only the best college town in the world. Florida State and Florida A&M in one town with nothing else to do? A big football school and one of the biggest HBCU's? As I look back, I truly marvel at my ablity to graduate. It wasn't like they were giving college credit for mastering the skill of appearing sober when clearly wasted nor keeping the straight face when you realize that you slept with two best friends. If they were, some of my friends would have actually graduated and I could have boosted my GPA.

When I did finally move away for graduate school I was shocked to see how much I missed my hometown and I moved to New Orleans and lived downtown within walking distance of Bourbon St (just to help you put things in perspective). I missed Tallahassee bitterly, I missed the trees, I missed not seeing poor people look really, really poor. I missed the fact that stop lights had a 3 second delay before the crossing traffic turned green. You know safety, stuff like that. Who freaking knew? So now that I have returned to living in a collegetown that I went to college in oh, and let's not forget grew up plotting my escape of...I feel...I feel well, I feel very happy to be here. I feel delighted. ( Ya'll might have to wipe your computer screens because those statements are driping with sarcasm.)

I might have always wished to leave here and might not be as delighted as I should be to be back (Doctoral program aside). But at least I still claim the damn place! There is this like...phenomenon...this mass display of rejection taking place. Since college mofo's that I have known since grade school want to straight up, bold face lie and tell people that they were from Miami and St. Louis and shit! What!?! "Well, I was born in Jacksonville." Hell, I was born in Georgia. If I was in Vacation Bible School with you, you might be from Tallahassee. If you were in my kindergarten class on through high school you are not from Maryland!! You can't be. Stop lying! All you dudes "from New York", c'mon man! You moved to Florida when you were nine man!! Drop the MTV/BET manufactured accent. I don't believe you. Now I will say this, my parents are Nigerian immigrants and I could say that I was from Nigeria when people ask me where I'm from. But that depends on the context. Clearly you are not supposed to answer "Nigeria" unless people are refering to your heritage while displaying the screwed face as they are trying to pronounce your name. If you were stuffed in the "Kids room" during those long Nigerian parties along with me...don't use Nigeria as a cover up.

I am not sure if it is the need during college to re-invent yourself but this madness has got to stop. I had someone from my high school class win the Rhodes Scholarship and she claimed she was from some random place in the Mid-West! Are you kidding!?! I know it was hard during college to have people talk bad about the "locals" and make Tallahassee sound like garbage because we didn't have all the stuff from Orlando, Tampa and we didn't have our own dances or a beach. But are you really going to let some post-adolescent homesick bastards make you deny your own background? Really? Okay well, how about now that you are grown and should know better? Get the hell over's not like Tallahassee ain't on the the map! I will say that Tally is on the come up and is certainly 3 times bigger than it was 15 years ago and we are getting bigger concerts. I will not tolerate anyone talking shit about my hometown (unless you are from here and claim it) nor will I twiddle my thumbs as I witness folks I have known since I had a crush on Tevin Campbell damn near change their whole life story. You know who you are and you will be called out. Take this as a warning...I am a giving them out for free.
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Tuesday, October 04, 2005

I've Been Poked...

I have a secret. When I arrive at my office before I check my email, before I return important phone calls...I check my facebook account. It is all my sister's fault. I was minding my business one day over the summer and she couldn't believe that I--as if I was the last one to hop on this mindless bandwagon--that I didn't have an account on the Facebook. So I joined. It might be crack, it might be childish, it might be like checking your email, it might be internet dating...But I swear everyone is on there. Sure some of us "grown-folks" are holding out from being sucked into this somewhat guilty pleasure/definite bad habit. But I know you same folks are viewing faces and profiles from your friends accounts. The shameful part about this is I don't remember being so geeked about this sort of thing since highschool when I was on College Let me repeat that----When I was in highschool on College Think about that for a while.
You can search for people by name, by high school, by University... or just scroll through and see who you know (more specifically who you want to know, hehehe... I am so ashamed.) and add them as a friend. Or my favorite...poke them. I get poked quite often, I am not quite sure what it means but I like playing around with its ambiguity.
A friend of mine has described this site as "legalized stalking". And it is. Certainly I have taken it upon myself to exercise my legal rights.

So let's see I have found...

*Long lost high school friends. Also enemies. I have to make sure I turned out better than them.

*High school crushes that didn't crush back...I wouldn't date them now anyway.

*The guy on campus that tried to date all my friends in college but for some reason I can't remember what he looked like...Of course he'd have a facebook profile and he is still in college.

*The girl that slept with half the football team in college...rocking a 5 carat diamond in her picture. I guess it only has to work once as my friend would say.

*Ex boyfriend...looking nice.

* Ex-Not-My-Boyfriend looking REALLY good...Damn.

I also found Can't Have Him's girlfriend. Hehehehe. CLEARY not Beyonce'. But kinda cute I had to admit. But of course, not as cute as me which is the seed that grew into this monster that I couldn't tame. I guess I should have been poked back into reality (that was bad but I won't delete it). I of course want to know if she had the same birthday as me, are their zodiac signs compatible, does she love cheese like I do. What is it about her!??! I have to have access to her profile! I know it's crazy. I can only admit this here, it's my self-help blog, remember? So with the suggestion of an abetting graduate student we launch this COMPLETELY LEGAL stalking tactic. So she, my fellow grad student, a complete stranger to her, having an account linking her to a school separate from mine requests to add Not Beyonce' as a friend. And she accepts! Sucker.

We have almost nothing in common. Their signs are not compatible, in fact their signs are somewhat repellant. She has like 700 friends on this site... Her favorite book is the Bible. Sure it is. It's alright for her to say that she doesn't read. She is every bit of the twelve year old I thought she was. Surely this is just convenient for him. Unfortunately, when I viewed her relationship status it said "Married". (Gasp!!!)

I have learned that no matter how legal it get what you look for. F*ck being punk'd I've been poked and it smarts.
I've Been Poked...SocialTwist Tell-a-Friend

Monday, September 26, 2005

Doing 85 to 95 Down Memory Lane

I composed this post while sitting in class wishing I was any where else but here. Picture me handwritting this post ignoring my professor discusing probability mass depth. Ughhh! I began a mental roadtrip to the old days, before graduate funding and car insurance when the brightest moment of the day was break, PE or after school when we would congregate and attempt to harmonize "Knocking the Boots" by H-town. Yep, The nastier the song the louder we'd sing it.

I traveled to a time when I knew all the words to "Superwoman" by Karen White before I had ever heard the tune on the radio...a time when my friends and getting my hair to grow meant the world to me. A time before we were to become the women that we are now, law students, new mothers, wives...real estate agents and divorcees. Before we became skilled goldseekers and gold-acquirers. (Golddigger just sounds too...I mean can't imagine me or any of my girls acutally digging for shit. Besides the term seems to ignore the notion that this said "gold" could actually be ours. But I will save that for another blog.) I let my mind travel to a time when it was actually cool to rap the entire theme song of Fresh Prince of Bel-Air and my biggest wish was to no longer be flat-chested.

Pull up next to me, as we all can travel down memory lane. To a time...

*A time when holding hands was enough and kissing was a BIG deal.
*When you may have owned two or more snap bracelets.
*If you went to private school, you may have coveted a certain pair of Eastlands
* You may have debated which Ninja Turtle was the best.
* A time you might have actually caught yourself sing the theme to Fraggle Rock
*You remember wishing that She-Ra and He-Man would get together and feeling BETRAYED when you found they were brother and sister.
*A time when "sex tape" meant a bunch of slow songs you recorded that you were certainly going to have sex soon as you became sexually active.
* You actually woke up early on Saturday mornings to watch TV
*Biker shorts were a staple in your wardrobe
* Jelly shoes, LA Gears and oh my gosh...British Knights!

As I sped down this lane...I remembered how I used banana clips to make my pony-tails appear longer, how I figured it wasn't fair that Zach on Saved By the Bell hooked up with Kelly, Jessi and Lisa...and it was kind of nasty. I began to develop a mind of my own. I laughed as I acknowledged that I am nowhere near married like I planned to be by my mid-twenties...and that I won't be. I did not lose my virginity on a soft bed of green grass, underneath the stars as inspired my the numerous Mariah Carey songs I listened to and it wasn't with my first love... In fact, I'm still debating whether or not that time counts at all... I didn't marry my first love, or my second.

Who then could have known that the world wouldn't abruptly come to an end if baby and the baby carriage came BEFORE marriage? Not graduating from college didn't mean swift and certain death? The show Martin was ever going to go off the air? Hammer was to go broke, the original Destiny's Child would break up? Innocence was sweet and ignorance is bliss.

However, as I pull up past high school and college I become thankful for the present. So what I didn't get that Powerwheel! I have my own car now and it's paid for. I can pick my own wardrobe and not have to wait until my birthday and christmas for something new. That sex tape is now a 40 song playlist on my laptop and MP3 player...still waiting for that special person. The lessons I learned were hard ones. I loved to visit the past but I clearly, clearly could not live there...there are about a million things I don't EVER want to do again shit, I don't want to see again. There are people that I never want to be again.

But you know, some things just don't change. Green is still my favorite color, I still love Jolly Ranchers. I'd still get giddy if a guy were to write me a note and fold it all special. I still dance really hard when I hear "It Feels Good" by Tony Toni Tone or "Keep on Walkin'" by CeCe Penistan. I just close the door now. My best friends are still my friends from grade school. "One Last Cry" is still my favorite breakup/get over him song. I still eat Cinnamon Toast Crunch. '85-'95 might have been some great years but I guess right now is okay, I mean class will be over in five minutes. And these moments like everything else, will pass like the trees when doing 85 to 95 mph on the as shit.
Doing 85 to 95 Down Memory LaneSocialTwist Tell-a-Friend

Friday, September 23, 2005

Taking a little bloggy break

I swore I was going to be more consistant with my postings. I mean, literally...for the past 2 weeks I have been thinking of things to post about, even sitting and typing them up and then totally walking away from it. I have a million things on my mind yet, at the same time nothing at all. I know I know, this is my blog and I can say what I want. But everything I want to say is not in the slightest, or in anyway informative or even entertaining to the poor souls that should come across my blog. So that explains my little bloggy break.

However, in the time since my last blog I have gotten deeper and deeper into my graduate program. It is sad to say that I have absolutely nothing to talk about other than that. And well, that we spent like a whole hour and half talking about how to calculate a mean and median. As if I didn't get a high school diploma and didn't sleep my way through college. But once again, I don't want to bore you.

There have been other things that have been on my mind that I have not been able to actually formulate into an interesting post that I would like to mention for instance, why do I continue to go out collecting guys numbers, store them in my phone and not call them? Then oh, then continue to scroll through the phone book trying to figure out who the hell they are. Why then dear readers, do I refuse to delete the numbers only to find myself doing it again? Stupid I know, but this is the kind of thing I have been doing on my spare time.

I am sure that in the next few days, particularly after I get over my flu I will surely have somethings to talk about. Once again, they may not be of any interest to you but, it will be great to me and we all know that's what matters.
Taking a little bloggy breakSocialTwist Tell-a-Friend

Saturday, September 10, 2005

Relax, Relate, Release...

I apologize for my previous post. I was so steamed up that I didn't even proof read it. Talk about raw emotion, I sympathize with all who had to read a paragraph twice to get my punch lines. Yeah, and the profanity, I was a bit uncouth. I mean, New York is "the financial ball sack of the nation" but I guess I didn't have to actually say that. Things are starting to subside and we are gradually returning to normalcy. A higher offical gets a slap on the wrist (Mike Brown is returned to Washington, not fired) and people put the blame on the little guys. As if New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin could have really been prepared. "Why wasn't the Superdome stocked with food? Why weren't the poor bused out ahead of time? Why were the buses left in low lying areas? He's no Rudy Guiliani." Yep, sounds about right. New Orleans has no money, the only way out of the city is I-10 and the whole city is several feet below sea level. The hurricane shook to the left at the last minute. But it has to all be Ray Nagin's fault. After all, he's obviously irrational as he publicly spoke down to federal officals. I thought about going off today. Joe Scarbourgh commented on how inept the Louisiana and Missisippi are at handling hurricanes and used my state (and his I guess, since he was US Rep. for a while) of Florida as a "good example". I thought about going off and noting the fact that we already had our catastophic disaster (Hurricane Andrew), that as a peninsula our entire state is vulnerable to the 17 hurricanes we seem have a year and hit by 15 of them,so we are used to it. I thought about noting that Florida is one of the most well-off states of the nation and that uh, our Governor is the president's brother and that perhaps that has a small influence on why Florida is better at handling hurricanes than Missisippi and Louisiana the absolute poorest states in the nation. But I decided to not get my pressure up today. Breathe, Stretch, Shake, Let it go...

I have an awful problem with anxiety and this week was chock full with bits of stressors to make me come off as a basketcase. (Well, more of a basketcase than usual) It was week two of this doctoral program and (wait...breathe in, breathe out) all the advanced students can talk about is how this is going to be the most horrific experience how the comprehensive exams have a failure rate of just 75%!!! When I found myself in my office from 9am to 3am...for the love of God...studying, I figured they weren't just trying to scare the first-year students. Afterwards I arrived to class to find my classmates reading a book that I didn't own, much less read! Now picture me in my chair, palms sweaty having a panic attack. "What am I doing here? I don't belong here," repeated over and over in my head. In a desperate fight against the sick over-whelmed feeling I felt so frequently while doing my masters, I took a break from reading, signed up for Yoga. I refuse to go crazy. Breathe, stretch, shake, let it go...

9/11 means a lot to me too so I apologize for the insensitive comments towards New York in my last post. This month of September is a significant time of reflection for me and even a bit of grief. It's difficult because it was this time last year when my world had just began to break apart. Labor Day weekend I was in Chicago with my best-friend at the Navy Pier, the both of us trying to figure out how we got where we were. The both of us screaming "why me?" for reasons totally unrelated. I remember holding her hand, heart heavy, stomach turning, completely disappointed and disillusioned, dreading my return to New Orleans. And how selfish of me, for my friend had to come to grips with the fact that life was never going to be the same for her. The two of us struggling to answer the question, "Now What?" I comforted myself with the notion that "it would all make sense if "HE" and I were to be together". Ha, adding purpose to my madness. What was to follow was probably the some of the worst times of my life, admittedly. Life never ceases to remind me that somethings are beyond my control...and if you sit back (really, calm the hell down) things work themselves out.

It was Can't Have Him's birthday when I wrote that last post and I couldn't refrain from mentally abusing myself. No, I didn't spend an hour trying to pick the perfect e-card this year nor kid myself by calling him at 12am the day of trying to be the first one to say happy birthday. There is no way I could have done that and say it was platonic with a straight face. I sent him the worst e-card and a text message during business hours and I am sure I still couldn't conceal how much I care about him. It's been eight months since...(I swear, I have to stop writing these weepy posts) and for the gazillionth time, I can't get over him. I have found a way to cope but there are when I think of his girl, and the way he refers to her as "my girl", how he may have gotten off of work early for whatever birthday surprise the little girl planned for him, and the few days of every month I find myself so sick wishing it was me... a little of me dies. I was miserable not talking to him so I must say I am glad we are "friends". I am so in love and like New Orleans, if no one pumps it out it will be like this forever. I still won't let anyone close to me. Looking over the year and what we went through and my self sacrifice, I feel like (an idiot, but that is neither here or there) in a year I have made no progress. I still tear up sometimes, I still pray that he thinks of me, I still can't find it in me to hate him. A friend said once "You can't let go of love, love has to let go of you". My battle to let go for the last 3-4 years is a testiment to the truth of that statement. I am exausted anyway. This week I realized that I may love him more and ultimately better than anyone else just as there may have been someone who could better handle this hurricane fiasco. But they weren't chosen, I wasn't chosen and our screams are like ripples in the Gulf of Mexico. Who know's, this may be the kick in the ass America needed to repair the run-down schools and levees, to bring forth economic development and for God sakes, and a Tiffany and Co. to New Orleans. Soon there may be a metephorical hurricane and Can't Have Him will come to his senses, or perhaps I will. I'd take it either way. But for the sake of my sanity, I must relax and relate. You can only do the best you can, right? I am just waiting for love to let go.
Relax, Relate, Release...SocialTwist Tell-a-Friend

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

Wake Me Up When September Ends

Sigh... that Green Day song really adds to my mood. I am going to do the best I can on this without crying.

So I spent my Labor Day weekend in The New Yorker Hotel in New York City. This was my first time in New York and as a southern girl, I'm expecting something fancy. I was there for a convention so I was unable to sight-see the way I wished. Let me be honest, I was unable to sight-see because I was glued to the T.V. set watching the coverage on the "efforts to evacuate the victims post-storm". In the wake of the 4 year anniversary (if you want to call it that) of the September 11 attacks I MUST say the following things:

9/11 was an awful attack on our country. We were sucker-punched loosing about 3,000 lives. It was bad, we didn't know it was coming...there was no FEMA...but there was an immediate response in New York. There was a rescue effort to find people who were still alive under the debris. I don't believe I heard about looting. As I walked through Times Square, pissed, I immediately changed my mind and decided not to visit Ground Zero. I mean, this city lived. No offense, but only 2 of your tallest buildings got knocked down and shit, you have 50 tall-assed buildings. Your people had some where to go, some way to get there, a hospital to check-into if a piece of building hit them in their heads and a T.V plugged into an outlet powered by electricity to find out what the hell is going on! Guess what, a significant percentage of people in New Orleans (NOLA if you love her) didn't have that even BEFORE the storm hit. So New York, this southern girl is unimpressed.

With that said, what was always so heartbreaking about the NOLA is the the fact that the WHOLE city was poor. What you didn't know that America? Too busy drinking, gambling and throwing your shit in the street to notice that the whole city's revenue depends on your drunk ass? Clearly, you noticed that everyone working in your hotel was Black. Uh huh, that's what they do there, work in the casinos, shrimp and harvest crawfish. Yep, unless you were able to pay $4,000 a semester for private school you have the absolute worst education in the country. You're probably not going to college if you can't read, right? Surely you didn't think that streetcar was just for historic show? Yeah, people actually use it as their means of transportation. And you wouldn't believe it, but it doesn't run out of town! Who fucking knew!

Am I suprised at the accusatory tone in which FEMA Director Mike Brown blames the poor for their fate? I mean after all, Mayor Nagin did issue a mandatory evacuation? No, I am not. I have people here saying it's darwinism. So no, I am not suprised. And if it wasn't for the um, let me quote his ignorant ass, "looters and the thugs", the people probably would be evacuated more swiftly on one of the say... five, yes only five military helicopters used in the same unnecessary and completely wasteful procedure in Iraq. Yes, because one "thug" shot at one of the US MILITARY HELICOPTERS with his 9mm at best... ALL rescue efforts were halted. Once again, no I am not suprised. There is going to be a lot of finger pointing after this. But to say that you had no idea that there were thousands of people seeking refuge in the convention center until the moment that... shit, the rest of America found out... you have a lot of nerve to point fingers at anyone. We get our info from NBC, CBS etc. cause we have to. What the hell is your excuse? You are full of shit.

Here is where I slap my A-A card on the table...

Condelezza Rice, you know I love her. I blogged about it. But that damn press can she sleep at night? I see why Colin Powell quit. Not a race/poor issue? I comfort myself by chanting "she's just doing her job"over and over. It is probably easy for them, the authorities, the bigots, the haves, to watch the have nots die, suffer, lose their children and their homes from the comforts of their TV sets and on the outskirts of the disaster. All you have to do is just change the chanel. After all, New Orleans doesn't exactly have a grip on the nation's financial ball sack like New York. Do NOLA the way you always did her America, rape her and leave. Bush was here in Florida for the Hurricane last year, all damn 12 of them!!! Why isn't he at least ankle deep in mucky water with the poor people of the gulf coast? As I tell everyone else, the people of Florida aren't the people of Louisiana. We throw elections! We have money, we are republican!! (I'm not, I am trying to stop crying... bear with me) It is sickening how overt they are about how "allergic" they are to the poor, how inept this whole administration is at doing anything right, and how free they are at blaming ANYONE else but themselves at this monstrosity. Even to the extent of blaming the poor who were unable to save even their own lives. The poor who were so poor, so used to being a part of the "have-nots"that some asked if the goddamed helicopter ride was going to cost them because they didn't have insurance. Don't tell me that the fact that there are more black faces on TV taking toilet paper and diapers from a Walgreensbeing played over and over has nothing to do with the slow response by damn near everyone. Sure, I see that the people took TVs and sneakers but are you really going to tell me that you find that to be a fucking problem! "Hey I'll give you these fresh Nikes if you give me part of your sandwich, if you let me sleep on your cot for 30 mins, if you hold my kid while I look for my other kids". Tell me America, it that really looting and if it is, why do you really give a fuck?

And in a couple of days I have to be all patriotic, solem in rememberance of the people who worked for Charles Schwab (I am being a dick, so I take that back) the lives lost and changed because of 9/11? Watch me turn my TV off. I am embarassed AGAIN to be an American. This is NOLA folks, forgotten, and there are others cities like it. I am just glad it is on TV for the world to see how America really is. Senator Landrieu, Senator Lott, this is YOUR country. You let them dump toxic waste in your state and look you got shit in return. How's that for log-rolling! Mayor Guiliani got some award for handling his rich-assed city from the comfort of his office, his home. Ray Nagin has no damn lights!! But he is there with his people, fighting with his people, in the muck with his people!! He used to make $500,000 a year as a Cable company executive and he is there with the people hot, filthy and frustrated. Fuck you America, fuck you New York. I am turning my TV off on you and your land of liberty, corny flag waving, "freedom is on the march" chanting hypocrites. People in your own country aren't free and your own oil refineries are out. Just how great of a country is this? This is clearly going to be a long month, longer than this post. Wake me up when it's over.

New York people, sorry..I really liked Brooklyn if that counts for anything.
Wake Me Up When September EndsSocialTwist Tell-a-Friend

Wednesday, August 31, 2005

Sincerely Heartbroken, then Humbled

"Dang, there is usually more people out here at 3am," I said to my friends as I sipped my favorite daiquiri (New Orleans Original in Jungle Juice, it will take you down!) strolling down Bourbon St. on Saturday. "I guess it must be 'cause of the hurricane," my boy replied, Yeah...

So blog readers, I know I didn't tell you (unless you know me) I was a graduate student at Tulane University in New Orleans and just moved to Florida to start my Ph.D. (Monday was the first day of school, yay for me!) I was just in the N.O. this weekend trying to get the rest of my belongings...and quite frankly to be able to stroll down the street drunk without police harassment (as long as the liquor is not in a glass container, ) just one last time. I was raised in Florida and we ain't scared of no hurricanes! But New Orleans...I wouldn't stay if you paid me. We all know that the city floods after a steady April shower, needing city pumps to pump water out of the city on a regular basis. Sooooooooo why, why, why, did people stay?

Now granted Trina was first forecasted to hit my hometown in the Florida panhandle, I just figured "hey, school will be out, long weekend!" So, I can probably understand people not taking the Baddest Bitch seriously. I didn't. Then as B.Gizzle would say, "She shook back like a 4 and half hard" and next thing you know the people of New Orleans are caught in traffic for 15 hours to just get out of the city. And still some stayed. When the hurricane became a category 5, they stayed. When it rained, my fellow members of humanity climbed to the attics of their homes. As my friend Julie would say, "New Orleans people are just spicy". That's all we can say.

I sobbed yesterday as I pictured my wonderful 1 bedroom I had just packed up that sat along the river and as I thought of my time in City Park with the ducks and the dates (I guess that was a bit redundant) realizing it was now all underwater. I cried as I saw the streets I walked to work, as I saw my school downtown, the Tulane Health Sciences Center...the school I countless times wished would just go up in flames , Canal street with their newly planted palm trees flooded on CNN. I cried as I saw my church flooded, the Target store I frequented ruined, when I tried to call my friends and couldn't get through. Our hangouts, my friends' jobs, cars and homes newly bought with new found jobs after graduation, gone. I cried as I thought of people I know stayed and didn't get a chance tell goodbye as I fled this weekend. And suddenly I realized how blessed I am.

I started this blog to help release some of the stress and pain of a broken heart, being away from my family and being in a cruddy city where I constantly saw people suffering. I hated Tulane and was depressed about 2/3 of the time I spent there. My life fell apart there, I fell apart there and truly believed that the devil was amongst me. But often times it was jogging on the levee along the river that kept me sane, writing my blog at the coffee shop on Magazine Street., watching the ships go was the spicy people of New Orleans that cared for me, that kept me from ultimately being my own fatal enemy. The heat, the crumbling roads, the high taxes, closed minds, and corruption showed me that my city in Florida was unusually utopic. But whether it was playing the trumpet in the French Quarter or selling pralines on Canal Street, the people found a way to survive, they always did. My experience in New Orleans forced me to become a woman and I learned from its people how to survive. I always say that it takes a lot of love to hate someone... and I just realized how much I loved you, New Orleans. I was just drowning miserably with you and God saved me. Admiting now how much you've done for me, I am so sorry from the bottom of my heart, that he didn't save you.
Sincerely Heartbroken, then HumbledSocialTwist Tell-a-Friend

Sunday, August 28, 2005

The Sweetest Things parties...yay.

Sigh... summer is coming to an end. Unfortunately I the professional student, am once again tempted by the back-to-school specials on gluesticks and pencil holders. Dammit, I haven't needed those things since the fourth grade. Pull me away from the $0.50 packs of loose leaf paper at Wal-mart, especially because it's 20 cents cheaper at Office Depot. Besides I have folders, pens and thousands of sheets of notebook paper left over from middle school but I love school supplies. As I watch the back-to-school and fall fashion commercials getting that oh-so-familiar queasy feeling, my friends are annoyingly unaffected. Rather they reply, "How long is it going to take to finish your Ph.D?" continuing with the nice things they've acquired with their fantastic jobs and eventful love lives. The end of the summer marks the upcoming absence of the sweetest things: Sleeping til noon, rainy days, sexy clothes, watching VH1 6 hours straight and light traffic in this Hell I live in mascarading as a college town. As I see the streets fill up with the bright-eyed hellions screaming out of their cars, holding up the line at Wal-mart because the last cool dorm lamp in aisle 7 needs a price check...I get teary eyed. All my treats are gone or contaminated by underaged binge drinkers, short skirts and spoiled preppys in pursuit of an "education". All I have left is Publix cake that is sold by the slice (often sold out now) and I am very bitter about it.

Partially the bitterness is because of the slow witnessing of my youth slipping away. Sure I am young but I am sooo grown up now. As a pick up line while at the grocery today ( I was at Publix of course, getting cake) some guy asked me to keep an eye his truck while he runs in the store. Hmmm... thanks for pointing out your '05 model whatever that clearly your mommy, daddy or federal student loans bought for you. can't have my number because clearly you didn't have enough forsight to budget for a car alarm and that's just not the kind of man I'm looking for. I used to think that a cute guy with a nice car was once one of the sweetest things. There are a million college girls here that can be hooked by the simple horn blow of an '05 Accord and 21+ guys know it. I am very, very, bitter about that. I do try to stay current and fresh by watching My Super Sweet 16 and Laguna Beach on MTV. But the best part is the ability to turn those crazies off! Can you imagine the little fat spoiled girl behind you cursing her mother out on her cell phone while you are in the library? Or hundreds of them buzzing around in their Audi A4's and BMW 3 series cutting you off in traffic, stealing your boyfriends, or even (gasp!) seeing them in the mall wearing the exact same outfit as you with that uncanny ability to always look sluttier in it! It's like MTV everyday and I am damn near too old to be on the Real World. I need sweet relief cause I am starting this school year off bitter as hell.

I hear someone out there laughing at the fact that I said school year... it's not funny.
The Sweetest ThingsSocialTwist Tell-a-Friend

Friday, August 12, 2005

Chasing Dreams

Damn it, they got caught! Am I the only justice-believeing, law-abidding, tax-paying individual who hoped that they would have gotten away? I mean dig deep, dig past the higher-than-thou, do-good over layer of obligatory morality, you kinda wanted them to get away didn't you? I mean he is kinda cute. (Shut up! He is! He is in a -he is 5'5 and 140 lbs-I could break him in half-sort of way) Bonnie and Clyde 2005! I was a little tickled when I saw the Fox News coverage of the getaway couple. (I am usually tickled by the way Fox covers everything) Their story is all too funny. See, she was his nurse in jail and then loses her job because of their love affair. They ultimately get married (a prison wedding, am I the only one laughing?) but I guess she realized married life wasn't as sweet as she had hoped with him in jail. Her being an educated woman and all I am sure that it didn't take her long to figure that out.

So she busts him out of jail. All in the name of love! And look at her. Sure he was the one that called "Open fire", and probably worked his convict mojo on her. And why wouldn't he, she sure is a hot mama. Appearantly he is supposed to have conned lots of women into aiding in his criminal acts. As reported by the Cincinnati Post
"George is a charmer and a con man," said Rhea County, Tenn., Assistant District
Attorney General James Pope III. "Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth."
Oooh Wheee! A mouth like that might drive a girl to think about breaking a man out of jail. But she was the crazy one who actually did it! She killed a man for goodness sakes! I was hoping that for all that sacrifice they would have been gone at least a month. You know, high-tailing it to Mexico, feeding Llamas for change, all for the pleasure of looking into each others eyes without that prison glass between them and telephone receivers. One can assume it would get a little annoying after a while.

But now they won't ever see each other. Except in court. And you and I both know she won't eeeeeeever get out. Let that be a lesson, out there chasing dreams...only thing you'll catch is a life sentence! Love, I tell you, I was really rootin' for you. You disappointed me again.
Chasing DreamsSocialTwist Tell-a-Friend

Thursday, August 11, 2005

I'm Sin City... Not her!!!!

You are never going to meet the perfect person. All you’ll get if you're
lucky is a mate…
If you do meet the perfect person there will always be
something in the way. You're jewish he’s Palestinian, you're Mexican he’s a
You’re a black woman, he’s a black man…- Chris Rock

This is supposed to be my self help blog. So don’t complain if you don’t want to hear about this. But I do understand, it’s about me and I don’t even want to hear about this! But what do you do? Have you ever put it all on the line for something? If you read my profile you would see that I am a professional student so self-respect, dignity and my heart is all that I own. Everything else I rent. Have you ever bet it all on a dream or for love and lost? Lost bitterly? Still sore about it? Yep, me too. I took a chance on love. Sure, it was stupid, I admit it. I am in love with a guy who probably likes me as a friend and even in a pseudo-romantic way but he isn’t in love and doesn’t want to actually be committed to me. But like the old lady addicted to the nickel slots, just can’t stop pulling the handle. I just can’t let go. Also similar to the nickel slots, there is the tease that there is some chance I can hit the jack pot. I have been pulling the handle for about 4 years now. Let’s see,

Strike #1: We can’t be together because he’s graduating and moving away and doesn’t want to be tied down to a long distance relationship. But in Reality he gets a girlfriend who he claims is crazy and calls me to tell me about it. Excuse me!!! He liked the fact that he was aggressive. We hook up for a night and as the silly young sophomore was I believed we were going to be somewhat together. I was wrong.

Strike #2: Almost 8 months go by, he moved away. I miss him and wrote a poem to express how I felt for him. (I have been writing poems since I could darn near hold a pencil, but sharing the one about love?) We talk for months, even meet up in Atlanta for a weekend. Upon return he ignores my phone calls for 2 weeks. He was busy. In reality… he was getting back with his ex-girlfriend the whole time. (it was a long distance relationship I will add)

The set up for strike #3: Almost 1 ½ years go by…I know he’s the scum of the earth but so is the boyfriend I had at the time and his girlfriend ended up stabbing him in the back. (It’s a funny/sad, depressing story but since it’s not my business to tell…) I felt like he deserved it, but I still loved him. Not matter how much I loved my current sociopathic, cheating boyfriend I never got over Just Can’t Have Him. As an attempt to get over this man I initiated a friendship. It was great! (Oh by the way he stayed with his back stabbing girlfriend. It really is a good story.) At some point, and I do mean undetected in a matter of weeks, he drops Backstabber, the love of his life, and picks up a new girl. Similar to other unmentioned females of his past she was the most arbitrary, random, lucky lottery winner individual, he picks because he’s “ready to be in a relationship”. What the hell?

So let’s roll the dice.

Long story short, (I guess I can’t tell the story with out telling the whole story and we just don’t have the time) I loved him and I fought for him. He cheated on his girl with me. They didn’t have anything in common and she was like, 12 years old! Gosh, I am tearing up just thinking about it all. I felt like I could make him happy, better than anyone else. We could talk on the phone for 3 hours, It’s not like we had never been intimate before or several times. Why is he always running from me? I guess I should mention we were 1000 miles apart at the time.
What are the odds that the man leaves woman for the girl on the side? Slim to none. I took the chance anyway. Sure she was there with him and she had the ability to grow closer to him but…we have a connection. I was able to keep his attention 1000 miles away. I was able to have him fly and visit me and I was able to do the same. But it wasn’t because of the simple idea of breaking them up. I loved him and couldn’t be without him again. Yeah, I guess I didn't get the name Sin City for nothing.

But it didn’t work out. He threw in the cards. The game was over. What is so wrong with ME? Why her?!? Why her!!! So I have gone through the phases of thinking this was for the best, thinking he’s the stupidest person in the world…but 7 months later I still love him. So we are “friends”and its helpful for me. We actively avoid discussing our love lives in our monthly conversations. I know, like that’s healthy. But for some reason, (and I later realized it might be ‘cause this is marks a year since they have been together) I found myself choking needing to call him at 5am. In better judgement I called him at about 4pm the next day thinking he is at work. (see they are at the point in their relationship where she could feel comfortable enough to answer his phone and we don’t want the world to come to an end…) He says he’s sleeping (a lie 4 years consistent with when he is with someone and doesn’t want to talk to me) and that he is in Las Vegas. What you doin’ in Vegas?, I asked stupidly. “I’m on vacation”.

Damn it guys he took the girl to vegas!!!!! Argggghh!!!! For their the one year anniversary !!! I mean I didn’t cry about it (crying in the shower doesn’t count) but I was very upset. And then every where I turn there is something about Las Vegas on TV! Argghh!!! I know, let it go. Let the handle go!! But I can’t. Love and gambling is an addiction. But the difference is you can’t let go of love, it has to let go of you. I walked away from the blackjack table but the urge is still there, no matter how bad the loss was the last time I played this game. I am sick and I need therapy!

As a good friend should, my girl pointed out that (A) The girl is like 20 years old. No vegas for her. Unless there eloping... and (B) 9 out of 10 they aren’t even still together and it’s another girl. Hahaha! Right! Meaning this girl means nothing too!

But bet your bottom dollar he took Not Beyonce.
I'm Sin City... Not her!!!!SocialTwist Tell-a-Friend

Thursday, August 04, 2005

Cooking Rice with Uncle Ben

So I am once again pulling out my A-A card on this blog.

Forbes has this fantastic list of 100 Most Powerful Women in the World. I caught the Forbes editor on the Today show and thus far this list has gotten quite a bit of coverage. But I have to say I was touched when I hit the page and saw their article on The List. Picture this:
Top Ten Most Powerful Women in the World... right next to it are photographs of Condoleezza Rice and Oprah. Why hot damn, two black women. Granted Condi was #1 and Oprah was #8 but clearly that was one fine day. At least for me. And quite frankly I wanted to talk about it.

So I made mention of this to my brother over lunch and he responds with the surprisingly popular, "Well, Condoleezza Rice hasn't done anything for black people." Hmmm, and we politely discuss this over Rice...and chicken. Furthermore, my sister brings me an article that reads, "Condoleezza Rice is Affirmative Action". However, to my surprise it was a complete Rice boiler! And that is where I got mad. Very mad. Now this is coming from a Pro-choice leftist-borderline socialist sympathizer who doesn't just vote democratic because I'm a double minority but because I actually understand the issues and I have no other choice. (So don't start with me.) This ol' Uncle Tom, Uncle Ben, Uncle Ray Ray looking writer came out listed ALL of Rice's accomplishments and said she ain't never done nothing for black people. You have got to be kidding me! Sigh...before I even start, I must also throw in the gumbo that I have also heard people say Oprah has turned white and she hasn't really been out for black people either. I didn't take that seriously but now I guess I should. (Deep breath, now go...)

Maybe I have little needs but the little fact that Dr. Rice is black and is tight as hell does a lot for me. The fact that I know she didn't grow up pretending to be white and if she did she would have EASILY been singled out with a name like Condolezza. (I know she was named after some music phrase or something but c'mon isn't that a black thing to do?) The little fact that I am certain the Secretary of State had to worry at least once about who was going to base her scalp before she got a relaxer while on a long business trip ... kinda does something for me. But that's just me. some clearly take that with a grain of rice.

What exactly is she supposed to do for black people that she hasn't done? Has anyone made a list? Wait, I think I hear a 'yes' in the back. Okay then, review your said 'list' and see if any of that falls in her job description. Um, hmmm. Just because she hasn't brought sneakers and basketballs to the ghetto doesn't mean that she hasn't done anything for my race. She can't give you or me a raise, she can't let your baby cousin out of jail. She can't give you equal rights or sign your timesheet any quicker. She can't send more black children to college. She only makes $170,000 a year. It's not her job! Puffy(50 Cent and even my beloved Jay-Z) leads the exploitation of black people. How? By taking a few Hanes Her Way T-shirts (probably made in sweat camps in Latin America or Detroit) slapping a little Sean John on it and selling it for 58 American dollars! And everyone is doing it, not for the love of fashion but because they know black people will buy it. And we do... everytime. Besides at millions per annum I hope Puffy does bring a few basketballs to the ghetto, send a few kids to college, start a couple of summer camps. I personally haven't seen a red cent. He hasn't done anything for me but host a couple of shows and come clean in a suit. Maybe if I work in a hotel lobby at Saint Tropez...

Let me tell you what this woman has done as listed by Uncle Ben the writer. (He is so stupid I promise...)

*She is the youngest person to ever hold the postion of provost (Vice president of a University for those who didn't know) at Stanford University. She was the First African-American and the First woman to do so also. She was in her thirties!!!!!

*AND she served as the chief budget officer at Stanford and over saw ALL 1.5 billion of that budget and did not have ONE scandal. If you attended an HBCU you might know where I am going with this.

*She sat on the Board of Directors for Fortune 500 companies such as Chevron, Hewlett Packard and Charles Schwab to name a few. (and it is just a few)

"She is hardly Mary Mcleod Bethune who is etched in Black History and started Bethune-Cookman College.", says Uncle Ben. First of all I am from Florida and I will tell you BCC is a cut-up. But who can be Dr. Bethune, King or any of those historic figures today? Oh she was supposed to start a historically black college not head an Ivy-league (and extremely well-funded) University? Clearly this man was a rice cake.

Dr. Bethune would have been sooooo proud of Dr. Rice and then suddenly completely disgusted at the way black people haven't shown her any support. Sure she works for the devil but quite honestly, you wouldn't have seen the Democrats put a minority in such a high position in the first place. Because they don't have to. What are we going if they don't, vote Republican? Ha Ha ha right...that's what they're thinking too. But they will ensure all of their assistants are minorities. How's that for affimative action!

It is hard being a black woman, period. Trying to find pantyhose that doesn't make your legs look ashy, trying to find jeans that fit your butt, working knowing that your glass ceiling is much, much, much lower than other minorities is HARD. This person has made strides that not only landed her a place in America's history books but further paves the way for minorities as a BLACK WOMAN. And as a black woman, I won't sit back and let anyone belittle her accomplishments, I take it quite personally. Condolezza Rice represents the talents and capabilty of black people and women. And she is reppin' hard!! That's a heavy load to carry so get off her back and get behind it. Support her. Even though she is working for the devil...she's just doin' her job. (Hell if T.I. can say this and explain away his pushin' weight to the black community, it should work for her too.)

Cooking Rice with Uncle BenSocialTwist Tell-a-Friend

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

It's My Birthday!

So I cheated on this post, I promise to never do it again.

I have made great efforts to have a happy birthday this year. I have just come in from Los Angeles which (I will blog about later) and I am at home with my family. If you can imagine I am still jet-lagged but EVERYONE is calling to wish me a happy birthday. I mean early in the morning-like the butt-crack off dawn-I still have a groggy voice saying "Thank you very much"- early in the morning. I should have felt so loved and appreciated. But by 2pm every time the phone rang I just looked at it and threw it on the floor...and then answered it to accept my birthday wish. Have you ever loved someone so much that it begins to look like it was more than you loved yourself? See, it seemed as if everyone called to tell me happy birthday except this guy.'s a guy. But not just any guy. He's THE guy. We all have them (they may not be guys but you know where I am going with this). Can't stop thinking about him. And no matter what, you can't seem to have him. But you know, at this point, I don't even really want him. Nope. I am okay with us being friends. But that is like pulling teeth too. Long story short, every year of my post-adolescent/ young adult life I have wished that "Can't Have 'Em" would call me and wish me a happy birthday or Merry Christmas or Happy Grounghog's day. You know, to show that he cared. I would wait out the whole day with built up anxiety. Sometimes I would be a little teary eyed and even wonder if I ever crossed his mind. He of course, never calls. But I must admit we usually aren't on good terms and I may have told him not to call me ever again. But c'mon, he knows I didn't mean it! But this time after he broke my heart for the (counting...) third time, we aren't particularly on bad terms and I made it quite clear that I was expecting to hear from him on my birthday.

You would have thought a girl coulda waited. By 2pm I was sad, truly sad. I couldn't believe he didn't call! I tried to keep up the happy face but a spare smile was not amongst my birthday gifts. I didn't even bother to open the digital camera my Mommy bought me. By 5pm, I was in tears and my mother kindly proceeded to curse me out. (with out the curse words) I was soooo hurt! I didn't ask him to give a gift, send me flowers, leave his current girlfriend (current being the opperative word) for me. At least not this time. All I wanted was a phone call, a text message, an email saying "Hi, you asked me to remember your birthday and I did." That's what friends do.
I continue to torture myself by thinking, "He'll just call me at 11:59 like a jerk." And "What if he didn't call me because it is HER birthday too!" Argh!!! My stomach hurt to think that "Not-Beyonce" would happen to be born on such a blessed day as my birthday and instead of him calling me from his office phone (which is free), he is out buying flowers and Tiffany necklaces and showering her with all the love that should be given to ME! But as I said before, I don't really want that and am just as happy with the barely platonic concern I am given now...he he. At about 9pm I get a call from him. All my anxiety subsides and I pretend that I was not at all concerned about his call. I knew he'd remember, after all I reminded him. My minutes are free after 9 so that's a plus. And that is the very last birthday that he's gonna have. To make up for lost time I went out with my friend and proceeded to get properly drunk. As I return home and lay in my bed I think, this is great this birthday is sooo much better than last year's! Then I feel the rushing need to go to the rest room but my drunk self can't navigate through the dark... I never make it to the bathroom. I heave up all the crabcakes and duck I had that night right there on the floor. Good thing I didn't pay for it. Happy birthday to me.
It's My Birthday!SocialTwist Tell-a-Friend

Wednesday, June 22, 2005

Like a Good Neighbor

Bloggers and blog readers, please! (wait I don't think I am speaking loud enough...ahem!) Please!!!! Get Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes off my television! I promise you I was really trying to come up with one of my very creatively written posts ( well I try at least) and all I could think about was TomKat. They have a compound pronoun to describe their borderline disgusting relationship. I partially blame the media, they have been itching for another Bennifer. But please, am I the only one that feels like I am pimped? It is just a little too much? Here is a young, ordinary looking, girl-next-door 20 something actress that has no problem with the fact that her middle-aged boyfriend is um say... a whole foot shorter than her. Furthermore, this would be just his 14th marriage or something like that (okay third). Does she know that? Does she know that her husband-to-be puts his feet on Oprah's couch. Oprah's couch!!!! Be a good neighbor, let her know. I am still getting reaquainted with the luxury of cable television (Digital cable actually, I told you I moved up like the Jeffersons!) but is Tom Cruise supposed to be on my TV every 2.38 minutes? I am a true believer is in PDA (in moderation of course) but I swear they are going to make me change my religion! All the kissing and touching and nussleing...STOP IT!!!!! I just don't believe it. Is it love or is this scientology? Be a good neighbor and point me in the right direction or just take my remote.
In the week's events ...I have met the sexiest guy in my new building. I mean, oooh! A couple on my floor was having a barbeque and I stopped by and he had just come from work. (Did you get that, the man had a job!) I... ohmigosh, you should see his smile, his presence, his walk, the way his slacks fit and fell neatly from his waist. I hate to see a "bitch butt" on a man. Granted I had a couple of Coronas , I was quite certain there was a chemistry. I mean the vibe was so hot it woulda melted my panties off... you know, if they weren't superglued on. Just as I was beginning to think of um, how to be the best neighbor I could be... in walks his girlfriend. She was so sweet. Yeah. Yeah. He still got my number a couple days later you know just in case something else were to go on in the building. Uh huh, (wink wink) but I am just no that type of neighbor.
What else, I started a summer course on medical planning and disaster preparedness in catastrophic events. It's like summer camp!!! In a good way. The unfortunate part is there is a girl-woman (I am still used to referring to students as girls and boys, she's pretty grown) who has the worst voice in the world with the same name as the woman my sociapathic ex-boyfriend was cheating with. Ugh! and she keeps talking! "Yes, Corolla* that was a good question". The professor is egging her on! Someone be a good neighbor and tell her to shut up and not join any of my groups. She was even so audacious to host a convo about Tom and Kate during our 5 minute break when clearly, I was trying to take a power nap. It's not her fault that she has an awful name and annoying voice but life isn't fair. So if I don't serve her, then some other person will. So like a good neighbor, Sin City is there!
Like a Good NeighborSocialTwist Tell-a-Friend

Monday, June 13, 2005

Physically Lost in Translation

Uncrossing my legs, I leaned towards the desk in front of me in a well-cooled car dealership. Raising my eyebrow, I simply said "You can't possibly be serious, $32,000? I know of a repo S-type going for $14,000 with similar mileage. You only have 2 years left on this warranty and that's not worth $18,000. I don't care if it is a Jag. Let's save the gas for the cars." Afterwards, the car salesman changed his whole approach. Maybe it's the big earrings, the lipgloss, the presumed youth, but clearly he thought I was the person to be taken for a ride. The s-type Jaguar is a suped up Lincoln LS...Ford Five Hundred. I read Consumer Reports. But the salesman liked me, I just knew by the way he moved, by the way he looked at me. I can't explain it, he was totally professional. He didn't so much as wink at me. It was the way his mouth moved. So I wasn't surprised when he asked me out to dinner, I mean he was cute and I was hungry. Maybe my stomach sounding as if it were trying to put a bid down on a car was a hint enough to ask. I think he drove the company Jag but I didn't want to imply anything by asking. During dinner I get the "I have a boat, a house across the lake, I can take care of you"...blah, blah, blah. Older men always feel as though they can entice a young woman with money and financial security...I was listening. However, he sort of vaguely danced around the fact that he was "not quite divorced" and that his wife sort of still lives with him sometimes. Ha Ha Ha! And all the while I thought I had been wearing Mac make-up. I didn't know I was putting "Damned Fool" on my face every morning.

I have been thinking that I send the wrong message for a long time, not just in dating but in school/work settings as well. And I am not quite sure what it is. A guy told me that upon first sight he thought I was shallow. What? Another said that he wouldn't have guessed I was "as intelligent" as I am. Not that I am dumb but that I was as smart. And it's true, going to class in heels and capri's is not fashion indicative of a grad student doing clinical research (which I hate by the way). Is my body language French when everyone else speaks English?Perhaps it's my walk, my love of South Park, 60 minutes and CNN. Maybe because I pick appetizers as meals when out to dinner, even when I am not paying. Or even my likelyhood to flip between The Surreal Life, Real Time with Bill Maher, and the Lifetime movie of the night. I give the wrong impression. I have many different sides of me I can't really tell what I am projecting, what it means or how it defines me. I just I feel that my whole being is misinterpreted sometimes. So to make it easier I guess people made these fun Speak-Say T's. Do you ever wonder if your t-shirt is saying more than you think?

This says that I am a dime, the whole ten pennies. (Although the truckdriver yelled "12!" the other day) This says that I'm a little conceited, but that's always needed...

I just like the shirt. I like green, I like Oscar. But I don't think people take someone with a Sesame Street character on their shirt seriously. Here I am thinking I am showing a bit of personality...

He He He... I actually am cautious of where I wear this! I mean I wouldn't want people to think that this is part of my personal ideals. I have to keep some secrets...

This is actually my favorite "I wish you would say sumthin' 'bout my shirt" shirt. I am usually all dressed up but when I want to wear a t-shirt (which I may still wear with high-heels) this is my fave! I was wearing this when I finally met a guy I had been chatting on the phone with. He said I looked much younger in person. Clearly, it's a Muppet t-shirt!!! I must have looked 12.

I am certainly cognizant of what I represent. But there is only so much that I can control, the rest is left to interpretation. And people change their minds all the time, so I will not be bothered. A man desperate for a conversation piece looked at my shirt and said "so you like hiking?" Not to perpetuate stereotypes but... a black girl in her 20's, in the south where the altitude is below sea-level... hiking? He obviously got the wrong message.
Physically Lost in TranslationSocialTwist Tell-a-Friend

Sunday, June 05, 2005


Today I lifted the comforter from over my head in my newly sublet apartment I thought to myself, "hmmph, I am finally on to something". Last week I lived in the 'burbs with no cable to day I am in the lap of luxury. What a difference today makes. Recently, my days seemed to all run together, simply a collection of moments and minutes. Hours identical in the determination to be productive. Everyday just hustling between the setting and rising of the sun. That was yesterday... But today I woke up singing
From the moment I wake up
Before I put on my make up

And then I tripped on the side of the bed trying to get to the TV in order to watch as much of the Today show as I could. I think I liked Al Roker better fat, someone should tell him.
I say a little prayer for you...

Today in lue of going to work I had the most profound moment, I crossed a brown and beige colored pigeon amongst a gang of other grey-black colored nasties. Weird. "What exactly is a pigeon's natural habitat?" Strolling towards my downtown building, I was accompanied on each side by two pigeons, cooing. It was as if we were talking but I was the only one that didn't get the joke. As I attemped to crossover to my building we couldn't figure out who was going first, myself or the pigeon on the right. Today I apologized to a pigeon because I obviously was in the pigeon's space.

Today I found that I don't like Joss Stone. I was convinced I liked her music a lot but really... don't think I can quite stand her. Today I actually watched her video on mute ...and a few others. I realized that today's music videos make me nauseous, that I perhaps am getting old and decided to watch Oprah. After seeing celebrites x and y talk about A and B, Oprah anounced yet another book for her beloved book club that I read already in high school. No matter how sexy I am today (and we do remember that I am sexy right?) deep down I will always be a nerd. The city in which I live looks nothing at all like the one in the picture. I am one of the few southerners who no longer has the desire to move up north. Big trucks, cheaper gas, pimped out Toyotas, parking spaces...and really do you see any grass in that picture? Am I really to live without grass? Today I know that a great deal is over-rated and most of the little things matter the most to me.
I woke up today and wiped the metaphoric crust from my eyes. How much better are we than the pigeons on the street? The insecurities I have others have as well, they just hide them. Most of those who constantly swear to "keep it real" are fake. Today I can see right through them. And a little fake is okay, I mean my hair is fake. But at least it is not my personality. The most important thing is to be real with yourself, really. Today being true to yourself is hard and the first step to doing so is admiting that you aren't. And "Live your life for today!" is the only biggest load of impossible crap. The reasons people didn't jump off bridges, divorce their spouses, quit their jobs today is because of the thoughts of glorious of yesterdays and in hopeful anticipation of a better tomorrow... and its okay. I think life is just one long day. Today is your lucky day! When you finally close your eyes at nightfall how will you say you spent your time?

Been gone for a minute but Today Sin City is back...(thanks for the nickname Rican)
TodaySocialTwist Tell-a-Friend

Friday, May 20, 2005

Um, Hello?

I heard somewhere that communication is key. Did ya'll hear that too? Being able to communicate with others is important and having fantastic communication skills is supposed to be a plus. Do you have great communication skills?

I am going to tell you right now that I don’t. I literally suck in this department. Why? Because people suck and all I hate and fear lie, no lurks, in the communication department, which I will soon explain in further detail. As a result of these fears I um, rarely check and quite frankly avoid email, leave my phone on silent, and never check my mail. I can’t keep up with instant messenger and I don’t believe in leaving a message at the beep. Don’t threaten me by saying you’ll stop leaving me voice mails because honestly, I don’t check them. Text messages work...but I don't want to speak too soon. Be very surprised that I maintain this blog, be extremely surprised considering I don’t have internet access in my apartment…or a home phone…or cable...just lights...and that’s not always guaranteed...but that’s veering off topic.

There are three things in a relationship that I say in the beginning, from the get-go, off top, off rip… that I just can’t stand. Three things that you just don’t do unless you want to hurt me, get me arrested, or have one of us killed. You do not: Ignore my phone calls, Hang up the phone on me, or lock me out and /or refuse to open the door when I know you are home. DON’T DO THAT! (I have somehow been unsuccessful in communicating this to those I care about because they continue to test me) While hanging up the phone and refusing to open the door for someone are all blatant acts of ass-holeness, ignoring one’s phone calls is often viewed as a mild act of rudeness and the popular alternative to confronting one’s baby mama, jealous boyfriend and last Friday night’s awful lay…um, date. But really, is it so hard you spineless, unconfrontational coward to simply pick up the phone and say “Sincere, I don’t want to talk to you right now and I will call you when I do”? Should I get the hint? The only hint I’d get is someone wants their ass kicked and denying you were ignoring my calls just further inspires me to get up and do it. Must be a language barrier, sorry I don’t speak Hint. I also will not be terrorized into avoiding anyone’s phone calls. I politely say “I really don’t look forward to our conversations or seeing your number on my caller ID and would like to regain control of my phone now, thank you.” Thus, I will not answer blocked numbers or ones I don’t know because I will not be out smarted.
Furthermore, I really don’t care for email. Sure it’s efficient, but it’s impersonal. Thank you so much for adding me to the total of ten people you had to forward Freaky Chain Letter of the Week in order for your wish to come true. I am confessing that if there is “Fw:” in the subject heading I will not read it, no matter who you are. I would rather check my online bills. Similar to email, I don’t check my voice mail for this is the manner in which I receive all my bad news and curse-outs. This is also my method of choice when I am forced to give someone a few choice words myself, (and/or cry…you know how it is). Considering they probably are ignoring my calls, it’s my only way of communication. I have 22 voice mails and 95% are unimportant. “SincereCaramel, it’s me, call me back” Thank you, but I have caller ID and I just received a replacement phone with good reception so I’ll know that you called…if you actually did call. Please don’t clutter my inbox with sweet nothings and ramblings of audio because I will never check message #35. And that might be my Mommy and she only has two methods of communication and I am never too old for the other one.
But I know that that it is unhealthy to shut people out and even I get a bit frustrated when I can't reach an individual. We also tune others out even when we are talking face to face or are too impatient to take the time to get our message across. So I promise to work on my communication skills and accessiblity and encourage you to do the same. Can you hear me now? Good.
Um, Hello?SocialTwist Tell-a-Friend

Thursday, May 19, 2005

You're Not Fat, Just Big Boned

No! Of course not. You DO look good in those tight pants and speedos. You're not fat, no... You are just big-boned. What, I look slim? Little did you know...I am big-boned too. (Why do I hear someone laughing?) Sure, nasty man! If you consider that a bone, (sigh) you can consider yourself "big-boned" too.

Big-boned is the first thing that came to mind when I got on the scale in my bathroom. My bones got bigger...and five pounds heavier. Ha! I should be complaining considering I worked my butt off...literally, to lose 20 pounds last year. But...what is this? I think I grew hips! I am walking with a little extra something these days, wearing the tightest jeans...which isn't new but wheew! Hips! You wanna touch? But I know that the thigh bone is connected to the hip bone, and since both are thick now the next thing to grow will be my stomach...bone.

I think the weight of all of my stress and worries have really gotten to me. It's breaking my back (busting my balls! I really wanted to say that...)I have been hot winging, chocolate-chip and cookie dough ice creaming my woes. Just feeding my woes, those hungry little bastards weren't really going away. (Thank you Brokken, Wise Diva, Rican Doll, A Sistah, and You Crazy Blogger with all the numbers for your advice and well-wishes when I really needed them) Eating, sleeping and sulking weren't making my problems go away so I figured...well, I needed to lighten up. So I did. Made a list of things I wanted to do such as, whitten my teeth, not wait a whole week to enter another post on my blog. After all that heavy thinking I rewarded myself with a bottle of wine, chilli cheese fries (they were low-fat, okay no they weren't) and the 6th season of Sex and the City when they had Blair Underwood. Ooh, that man makes me feel all fluttery and light headed. "You like chocolate don't you... Oh, I was talking about me." Oooh yes! That kinda chocolate goes straight to your hips too...if you're lucky. He's the kind of chocolate that would give you a work out. Hmm.

I finished my self-help book for the week...take it easy, love yourself...lightnen up. Stepping on the scale I realized I didn't have the dial on the zero, 3 pounds lighter. Isn't that good news?
You're Not Fat, Just Big BonedSocialTwist Tell-a-Friend

Thursday, May 12, 2005

Take Me Out of the Ball Game

Have you found yourself feeling increasingly less motivated? Having problems going up to bat with the day’s ins and outs? Are you asking whether or not there is more to life?

I mean hell, is there? I am sure you read my profile. I am almost 23 years old, ending a master’s degree in something I would absolutely slit my writs before used to start my doctorate in the fall (in something different of course...)in a few years I will be done with school. DONE. But the idea of more school for the first time…makes me itchy. I have been feeling so…for lack of a better term, over it. I can already hear someone screaming “but you are so young! You have your whole life ahead of you!” Um, to do what exactly? I feel like I have done it all…don’t bite my head off, it’s just a feeling. I have experienced a lot, don’t let my age and student status fool you. I just don’t want to get a job. And if your job doesn’t make you, nor are the degrees you earn more than an expensive piece of paper, if you can’t live to make others happy and you have to learn to be happy for yourself, by yourself…what the hell else is there? I mean material things aren’t important right, and you can’t just go out searching for companionship because that makes you an incomplete person and blah blah…This is crap. You can’t travel the whole world, guys! Religion aside, life is a game. I am starting to think we just play it to play it.

Let’s spin the wheel, Pat!

I am tired of waking up female in a man’s world. I’m tired of saying men are stupid when they (some) really are just crooks. Crooks are going to do what they can get away with…so let’s call a spade a spade. I’m so over my cheating ex-boyfriend who is a still a liar and as a sociopath is incapable of respecting me or any other woman. There really is no point in hating a lunatic so I am pretty over that too. I am so tired of getting my eyebrows done and they aren’t EVER the same shape. I am tired of feeling like the only frank and honest individual in my midst and realizing that it’s a bad thing. I am tired of getting my hopes up and being disappointed. I'm so tried of having my blonde microbraids slip out, I'm starting to forget to feel embarassed. I was tired of being negative so I decided to be somewhere different. I was once in love with D.C., Washington D.C…the colors in the fall, the Potomac, the politicians. I’m certain the feeling was mutual. Like anyone who’s in love, I made plans so that one day we would be together…that was until recently when I met Houston and the irony is that I love it because Houston feels like somewhere I had been before. While at an Astros game I was up to my old tricks of getting snacks and souvenirs for free. I’m a hustler homie! Ask about me… ultimately my friends and I took up the convo of life and games. I had better luck staring into the stadium lights because I got a big headache trying to understand how my beauty and achievements were great…but intimidating. It’s not my fault but I should understand? Who’s team were they on exactly?

Let’s spin the wheel again, Pat.

I am officially tired of the club scene but I was a good sport and attended the “Houston’s First Friday’s” event. It was just the boost I needed to get the ol’ swing back. But then it quickly turned to the same ol’ same ol’. “You are gorgeous!” I am. “You are sexy as hell.” I’m that too. "Of course got a man, cuz if you didn’t sumthin’ hasta be wrong with you.” Clearly 3 drinks weren’t enough. By drink 5…You think I’m impressive? I thought you were a promoter, no? You and your partner own this club…reeeeeally. Things started looking up. As he took my number, I proceeded to get his for I won’t answer unfamiliar calls…there then was this look of panic of sheer horror on his face. I shut my phone and said “You’re married”. “Well, I get married next Saturday.” I stuck out. I am sooo tired of playing with married men and just as tired of wondering why they want to play with me.

Nah, Pat I think I will sit this turn out.

I have been listening to Jay-z and Gospel all day packing up my apartment. I am leaving this stage of my life, starting the next season with a lot of cynicism. What else is there to look forward to? Debt, Drama, Deception and Dingy bathtubs because no matter what, the soap scum always comes back. I can say that everytime I thought I was going to lose I found a way to fight back.
“Let em tell it man, I’m falling well, somebody musta caught him ‘cause every fourth quarter I like to Mike Jordan ‘em.”
(I love Jay-z)
But at some point it has to stop, there has to be more than this. I’m grown now and I expect more, take me out of the ball game.
Take Me Out of the Ball GameSocialTwist Tell-a-Friend