On my drive home tonight I wondered aloud if the day will ever come when I have the pleasure of being on the road with a Toyota Prius that is not moving at least 15mph below the speed limit. I mean, I usually enjoy being right quite a bit but the accuracy of my slow-driving Prius theory is beginning to startle me. I have NEVER been on the road with a Prius driver who kept pace. Oddly enough, the only time I have witnessed a fast-moving Prius was when I was in it. No, I wasn't the one driving (although that would have made a lot of sense). A friend of a friend took me on a roller-coaster ride in her Prius in LA this summer. I was in fear of my life a few times but it was exciting. She's the only person I've ever seen driving a Prius like a real-life car and not a pretend one.
That's all I'm gonna say tonight. So much is going on that I can't even discuss things of importance with any coherence right now so I'm doing you a favor.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Let's get this blog poppin'!
I have been trying to faithfully commit myself to making this a real blog for a couple of years now. And by "real blog" I mean one that i update more frequently than twice a year. Seriously. One wouldn't think it would be so hard for someone who has as much to say as I do but, alas, I've got demons.
Anyhoo, I have been slowly getting into blogging more regularly but didn't want to "promote" my blog in any way until I felt secure that people would have something to read when they actually got here. I guess the pressure of actually having readers has been too much for me these past two years, ha ha! Even still, there were some great people who were following the blog in the beginning but I failed you all by being a punk-ass and not updating much. I would really appreciate it if you lovely people (you know who you are) would come back and make this a little community. Either way, I am now moving to a place where I feel comfortable challenging myself to actually do this and I would love your support!
Oh, what's that you ask? How can you support me? I'm glad you asked!
Here are some ways, with bullet-points for emphasis:
Anyhoo, I have been slowly getting into blogging more regularly but didn't want to "promote" my blog in any way until I felt secure that people would have something to read when they actually got here. I guess the pressure of actually having readers has been too much for me these past two years, ha ha! Even still, there were some great people who were following the blog in the beginning but I failed you all by being a punk-ass and not updating much. I would really appreciate it if you lovely people (you know who you are) would come back and make this a little community. Either way, I am now moving to a place where I feel comfortable challenging myself to actually do this and I would love your support!
Oh, what's that you ask? How can you support me? I'm glad you asked!
Here are some ways, with bullet-points for emphasis:
- Follow me, now! (in a deep dancehall reggae voice)
- When you read a post, please leave a comment.
- If you like a post, share it with your friends
OK. That's it for now. Any more "support" and I'm going to have to start paying y'all!
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Flashback: December 4th, 2007
This is the second installment of my "Flashback" series. Since the first one was like, two years ago (lol), please refer to this post so you know what the hell this is about.
So this flashback is apparently brought to you by the mysterious workings of our universe. As I went through my planworld archives (looking for December 4th, 5th or 6th), I happened upon this one from 2007 that is freakishly similar to my present reality. On Saturday night, I went to First Saturdays at the Brooklyn Museum where DJ Laylo was killing it at the dance party. I had a great time. Laylo is an awesome selector and quite easy on the eyes too!
Here's a picture of Laylo, Atiyya and me from this summer.
Much love to both of you ladies.
Also, this week, Joanne (referred to lovingly as Jjoo) and I went to Macy's to "look around." Turns out, 3 years ago I was doing the exact same thing. Weird.
Anyhoo, without further ado, I bring you December 4th 2007!
Date posted: 12-4-07, 10:04 am
Plan:
Damn, that was a long-ass questionnaire but hopefully it shed some light on my enigmatic personality (italics indicate sarcasm here ).
As usual, this flashback makes me reflect on where my life is now. At this time 3 years ago, I was falling deeply in love with a man I would continue to love for the next 3 years. Now, I am on the other side of that mountain; at the end of a relationship. When I wrote this plan, our relationship was moving on up and now, for the most part, it's moving down. Even still, as I read my words about him and remember the excitement of that time, three years later, I still love him just the same. Although we're not in a relationship, I still love him like I did in the beginning, maybe even more. Hmmmmm.
AND, Laylo's set at the Brooklyn Museum was just as hot as it was 3 years ago with the same great energy and crowd as the first time. And, Joanne is still my roll dog. All these comparisons are things I am happy about. even though I'm not with the man I love anymore, I'm happy that there still is love between us. I'm happy that I still have friends who are in my life and I'm still able to go out and enjoy great events like First Saturdays. AND, I have a job now. Praise the Lord!
In the end, it looks like the more things change, the more they stay the same.
So this flashback is apparently brought to you by the mysterious workings of our universe. As I went through my planworld archives (looking for December 4th, 5th or 6th), I happened upon this one from 2007 that is freakishly similar to my present reality. On Saturday night, I went to First Saturdays at the Brooklyn Museum where DJ Laylo was killing it at the dance party. I had a great time. Laylo is an awesome selector and quite easy on the eyes too!
Here's a picture of Laylo, Atiyya and me from this summer.
Much love to both of you ladies.
Also, this week, Joanne (referred to lovingly as Jjoo) and I went to Macy's to "look around." Turns out, 3 years ago I was doing the exact same thing. Weird.
Anyhoo, without further ado, I bring you December 4th 2007!
Date posted: 12-4-07, 10:04 am
Plan:
So Jjoo04 and I went to Macy's last week and got this watch for the boopiece:Nice and simple like I wanted and I stayed in my budget! I'm very happy with our work! Can't wait to give it to him. On Saturday night, we went to the Brooklyn Museum for the First Saturdays event that they have every month. My friend, DJ Laylo was playing the dance party from 9-11 and although it was hard getting out into the cold, boy am I glad I went. We walked into the hall where they were having the party and there were almost a thousand people dancing (hard!) to the dancehall reggae Laylo was playing. It was so exciting to see that many eclectic, beautiful people of all races and ages getting down in a MUSEUM! The boopiece kept exclaiming that he had never seen anything like this in his life. I couldn't help but be a little proud as I exclaimed, "This is New York!" I love this city sometimes..even as I hate it. I also saw this woman that I went to school with. She was dancing with her husband of 4 months! and we bumped into each other. She was looking happy. You always see at least three people you know at any social event in the city. This is a long ass one and I'm up for the challenge! 90. First off, what is your name? Kayla 89. Are you in a relationship? Surprisingly, yes 88. Do you have a best friend that you can talk to 24/7? yes! More than one. I feel blessed. 87. Do you have any siblings? 2 brothers on my mothers side and a brother and a sister on my father's 86. How many years apart are your mom and dad? 2 (They were born on the same date, two years apart) 85. Do you like someone? Sure. That's a pretty vague one. 84. What does the 7th message in your text inbox say? "Haha" not an exciting one, lol. it's a good thing though. Some of the other ones might have been TMI. BTW, that was 7th from the bottom. So the 7th recent message. Oh goodness, nobody cares. 83. Who sits beside you at work? Ha ha! I don't have a job! 82. Where is your dad right now? Ha ha! I have absolutely no idea. I don't even know where he lives right now. I think The Bronx. 81. Where is your mom right now? She better be at home getting her rest for her newly gained stressful yet exciting supervisory role at work! 80. Do you have any problems in your life? of course! Who doesn't? 79. Who is the 5th person you got a missed call from? my boopiece 78. Closest purple object? a plastic pencil case my students gave me when I started teaching first grade 77. Closest silver object? this watch that doesn't work 76. Who was the last person you spoke out loud to? Michelle, who called to tell me that she thought she won some sweepstakes but she didn't. It was random. 75. Do you sing in the shower? yes! 74. What is bugging you right now? The newly formed but SEVERE acne on my forehead that I haven't been able to get rid of for months. Got any suggestions? 73. How does your hair look right now? I just washed and treated it so now it's twisted into what we Jamaicans like to call "Chiney bumps" Yeah, I'm sure that's probably politically incorrect. 72. Do you know all the words to the Star Spangled Banner? yeah 71. When is the last time you said the pledge of allegiance? I have no idea 70. If you could kill someone, who would it be? Well there are people that I know personally that I strongly dislike but would NEVER kill. Some public figures? Maybe. Like people who send other people's children to wars without hesitation or people who enslave other people (I'd time travel to do what I have to do). Yeah. I'd kill them motherfuckers. 69. Do you have any fears? yeah, I have enough 68. What 's in your heart right now? is this supposed to be deep? Cause physically, there's some blood and a hole too (heart murmur). As for emotions and shit, apparently, I wear my heart on my sleeve so you should already know. 67. Do you like kangaroos? I couldn't tell ya. They seem pretty chill. 66. Can you roll your tongue? I don't think so 65. What are you wearing? ha ha, underwear. Sorry guys. I love living alone. 62. Screamo or Country? I don't understand the question 59. Flying or Driving? I actually don't mind long drives. So it depends on what's cheaper and how quickly I need to get there. 58. Do you have to pee right now? no, which is surprising cause I always do 57. Was your Valentine's day nice? I don't remember. ooooooooh, wait. I remember now. It was NOT great. Oh wait, that was the one before last. I honestly don't remember this past Valentines. I believe I was alone and quite content about it. 56. What are you doing now? eating a PB&J, kinda watching tv, checking email, getting dressed, doing my hair. I'm always doing at least 5 things at once. 54. Would you die for someone? Yeah. 53. Would you date anyone from your work? HA! I don't have a job. he he he 52. Do long distance relationships work? I sure hope so because I've always been of the opinion that they don't but, right now, I kinda need that to not be true 51. Lose a toe or cut out your own tongue? You know, toes are quite important for balance and walking and shit. Nevertheless, I need my tongue more. My planworld friends, if you haven't already figured it out, I talk A LOT. 50. Colored lights? Or clear lights? I really can't say I care unless these lights are going to be in my apartment. 49. When did you last talk to one of your siblings? I talked to my older brother earlier today. 48. What are you doing tomorrow? finally leaving the house! it's gonna be an event. dentist appointment, picking up clothes from the tailor and shoes from the cobbler, going to my building's management office, laundry, Macys for that watch, going to my friend's sample sale with JJoo04, picking up my boo from the airport and trying to convince him to go to this Stone Love party. I actually had to look at my Treo for all that. 47. Do you worry about getting older? Actually, I really am quite terrified that I'm going to wake up one day and be 30 (no offense to those of you who're already there) and still be in the same place I am now. 46. Who are you talking to on IM? I don't go on AIM anymore 45. Do you pick your scabs? no, that was a disgusting but enthralling practice that ended with my childhood. 44. Would you ever pierce your tongue? Absolutely not 43. What song is playing? As a matter of fact, I ALWAYS have music playing but right now, I'm listening to Michelle Obama meet and greet people in Iowa on C-SPAN. 42. Do you bite your nails? nope 41. Do you eat meat? I'm a freaking carnivore but my heart isn't into being one. Meat. I just can't quit it. 40. Do you or have you ever had AOL? yes 39. Do you check xHuh.com for celebrity gossip? I don't know what that is and I don't really look online for celebrity gossip. Right now, I do a pretty good job of limiting myself to 2-4 tabloids when I'm traveling by plane somewhere. It's like my little treat to myself. 38. Do you have a jar where you keep your loose change? Yes. I call it my life savings. Seriously, it's my savings account right now. 37. Do you own a pogo stick? Unfortunately not 36. Do you like tuna fish? I'll eat it but I wouldn't say I like it. 35. Do you own ripped jeans? Not on purpose. I've had a few that have ripped, lol 34. Are you drinking anything right now? water 33. What would you do if you found out that you were adopted? I'd feel very lost. As a matter of fact, I'd be in disbelief 32. Are you a jealous person? Not for the most part. 31. Do you use a calendar or day planner to schedule everything? I don't know what I would do without the damn Treo. I practically schedule my bowel movements with that thing. 30. Are you OCD? Ohmigosh yes! 29. Do you have ADD? Yes. And it's not self-diagnosed (ahem, rest of the freaking world that thinks it's cute to be like "OH MY GOD, I SO have ADD!"). Did you know that OCD and ADD go hand in hand? The doctor told me that when I was diagnosed. Anyhoo, I don't take medicine. 28. Do you have low self esteem? It depends on the issue. I'm pretty happy with certain parts of myself and quite insecure about others. Seems pretty normal. 27. Who can make you laugh during the hardest time? my boopiece, my closest friends, my crazy ass family. Pretty much anyone that I keep around. 26. What was the last thing you watched on TV? I don't really watch whole programs anymore but the last thing I remember focusing on was a really good episode of Family Guy on tonight. I actually laughed out loud at a scene involving a reenactment of the Middle Passage. I have to respect a show that can make ME do that. Where's 25 and 24? 23. Favorite movie(s)? Oh I'm not good with choosing favorites (see that morbid question about the song at my funeral). Although, thinking about it again, it might very well be a Stevie Wonder song. 22. Who do you love? More people than I should. I'm a love-slut. 21. What is playing in your mind movie right now? Ummm, I don't really know. I didn't know I had a "mind movie". 19. What's your favorite drink? sex on the beach. I'm ashamed to admit. It's so girly. 18. Do you own any big sunglasses? yes 17. Bed sheet color? Flannel light blue and green plaid. I'm about to change those babies. 15. Has anyone ever sang or played for you personally? actually, ha ha, my first "boyfriend" (I use that word loosely) rapped for me to get me to give him my number. Oh shut up, I was 16! 14. Have you ever bungee jumped? Negative 12. What's the first thing you notice about other people? Their facial expressions. How they smile. Do they smile? How do they look at people? With disgust? Scrutiny? Kindness? You get the picture. 11. Is it hard to express your feelings to someone? As long as it doesn't involved me being vulnerable, I'm very good at expressing my feelings. 9. What song do you want played at your funeral? What?! That's kind of morbid. Plus I love too many songs to choose one now. 8. Are you happy? yes, even though many would say that my lifestyle of late might not scream "I'm happy!" 5. Watched all Spiderman movies? I never had any desire to see them so I didn't...until I was coerced into seeing the third (and I hope the worst) of them in the theatre. Ohmigosh so terrible I laughed hysterically (much to the chagrin of the little boy beside who kept shooting me disapproving looks, ha!). It was really a terrible movie. 4. What are you looking forward to? Tomorrow (actually today) evening, when my boopiece arrives in town! 3. Favorite Lucky Charms Marshmallow? I don't eat that cereal enough to answer this. 2 Have you ever ridden in a limo? yes 1. Do you want to get married. Actually yes. At some point, it was "not really" Note: I totally answered these questions out of order. I jumped around so some things don't make sense. What can I say. I SOOOOOOOO have ADD guys! I need some help planworld. I want to buy a nice watch for a man for his birthday. The tricky thing is that a)I'm unemployed and money is a little tight and b)I can't buy him anything too expensive anyway because it would be awkward and uncomfortable. At the same time, I take pride in giving quality gifts. I really want to get him something nice. I'm lost! Jason says I should get him a Bulova but that's a little bit over my price range. I'd really like to get something between $50 and $100 dollars. I know that might sound modest but it's where I'm at right now. Any suggestions? I know many of you are reluctant to watch youtube videos on people's plans. I usually am as well. But this one. This one is only 47 seconds of pure happiness. I highly recommend watching this clip. I can't imagine a person that wouldn't smile watching this....But then again, some people on planworld are real assholes.
Damn, that was a long-ass questionnaire but hopefully it shed some light on my enigmatic personality (italics indicate sarcasm here ).
As usual, this flashback makes me reflect on where my life is now. At this time 3 years ago, I was falling deeply in love with a man I would continue to love for the next 3 years. Now, I am on the other side of that mountain; at the end of a relationship. When I wrote this plan, our relationship was moving on up and now, for the most part, it's moving down. Even still, as I read my words about him and remember the excitement of that time, three years later, I still love him just the same. Although we're not in a relationship, I still love him like I did in the beginning, maybe even more. Hmmmmm.
AND, Laylo's set at the Brooklyn Museum was just as hot as it was 3 years ago with the same great energy and crowd as the first time. And, Joanne is still my roll dog. All these comparisons are things I am happy about. even though I'm not with the man I love anymore, I'm happy that there still is love between us. I'm happy that I still have friends who are in my life and I'm still able to go out and enjoy great events like First Saturdays. AND, I have a job now. Praise the Lord!
In the end, it looks like the more things change, the more they stay the same.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Hell Week
Being the psycho-witch that I am, I caused my car to break-down. Shortly after posting a tirade about being ignored and belittled by mechanics, I witnessed my car completely breaking down last night. The highlight was when the speedometer read 0 while I was driving on the West Side highway. A close runner-up was when I saw the electric diagnosis thingy (and I wonder why I gets no respect from mechanics, right?) read "Transmission: Complete system failure" with my own eyes. It has been confirmed to me by a very nice young mechanic (who completely acknowledged the lack of respect women get at the car shop on his own) that my transmission is totally fucked up. Damn, I wish I could sue those mechanics and use the money to buy a new car.
Honestly, this week was the worst week in at least 6 months. It's odd because the lows have been really low but the highs have been extremely high. In this week alone, at least three positive changes I have been anticipating for a VERY long time have come to fruition. I signed the lease on my new luxury apartment, I might be getting a transfer at work(fingers crossed) and I had an extremely positive experience at a new OB/GYN. You may laugh but if you have a vagine, you know how hard it is to find a good gyno. Just watch that King of Queens episode where Carrie does crazy things to keep her OB/GYN. Anyhoo, that's not even mentioning the host of other great things that happened this week including but not limited to waking up every morning, having good food to eat and having good friends and family to support me in hell weeks like these. In addition, I have met some fabulous human beings as well as some terrible ones.
I guess this week is a microcosm of life as a whole. It came at me really fast and really hard. Every minute of every day has been overwhelming, both at work and at home. I've felt extreme joy, sadness and have been pulled in about 500 directions at the same time.
All in all, what made this week so bad was that I failed at creating balance. I failed to remember that I have the power to decide how I feel. Instead of getting through the week, I let it beat the shit out of me. I turned what might have been a challenging week with lots of surprises and changes into a week where I felt like I was on a roller-coaster ride from hell, just holding my head down and waiting for it to end. Funny enough, that's actually how I always rode roller-coasters when I was younger. I used to hide so much that when we looked at the pictures afterward, you couldn't see me because I was crouched under the seat. But, it made no sense because I love rollercoasters. I love the excitment, the fear, the joy, the crowd. I love the view from the top (even though I'm fearful of heights). It never made sense that I waited forever on a long ass line to spend the whole 30-seconds hiding behind the seat. As corny as this may sound, I don't want to live my life crouched behind a seat. By the time I look up, I'll have missed out on all those things that make life worth living.
And, I did have some serene moments where I felt like everything would be OK. Many of them were closely followed by shitstorms but I had some calm moments. What's good is that I definitely felt like I created some of those moments myself. When I was aware enough to realize that I was on the verge of a mini-breakdown I took control of my mind and body. I slowed down my gait I deepened my breathing and I cleared my mind. I felt so empowered because it reminded me that, although I can't control what happens to me I am ultimately in control of how I respond to those things. I have to utilize that control to keep my piece of mind.
So I suppose at the end of a trying (to put it nicely) week, I will take these lessons in preparation of the next time, because there's always a next time.
Honestly, this week was the worst week in at least 6 months. It's odd because the lows have been really low but the highs have been extremely high. In this week alone, at least three positive changes I have been anticipating for a VERY long time have come to fruition. I signed the lease on my new luxury apartment, I might be getting a transfer at work(fingers crossed) and I had an extremely positive experience at a new OB/GYN. You may laugh but if you have a vagine, you know how hard it is to find a good gyno. Just watch that King of Queens episode where Carrie does crazy things to keep her OB/GYN. Anyhoo, that's not even mentioning the host of other great things that happened this week including but not limited to waking up every morning, having good food to eat and having good friends and family to support me in hell weeks like these. In addition, I have met some fabulous human beings as well as some terrible ones.
I guess this week is a microcosm of life as a whole. It came at me really fast and really hard. Every minute of every day has been overwhelming, both at work and at home. I've felt extreme joy, sadness and have been pulled in about 500 directions at the same time.
All in all, what made this week so bad was that I failed at creating balance. I failed to remember that I have the power to decide how I feel. Instead of getting through the week, I let it beat the shit out of me. I turned what might have been a challenging week with lots of surprises and changes into a week where I felt like I was on a roller-coaster ride from hell, just holding my head down and waiting for it to end. Funny enough, that's actually how I always rode roller-coasters when I was younger. I used to hide so much that when we looked at the pictures afterward, you couldn't see me because I was crouched under the seat. But, it made no sense because I love rollercoasters. I love the excitment, the fear, the joy, the crowd. I love the view from the top (even though I'm fearful of heights). It never made sense that I waited forever on a long ass line to spend the whole 30-seconds hiding behind the seat. As corny as this may sound, I don't want to live my life crouched behind a seat. By the time I look up, I'll have missed out on all those things that make life worth living.
And, I did have some serene moments where I felt like everything would be OK. Many of them were closely followed by shitstorms but I had some calm moments. What's good is that I definitely felt like I created some of those moments myself. When I was aware enough to realize that I was on the verge of a mini-breakdown I took control of my mind and body. I slowed down my gait I deepened my breathing and I cleared my mind. I felt so empowered because it reminded me that, although I can't control what happens to me I am ultimately in control of how I respond to those things. I have to utilize that control to keep my piece of mind.
So I suppose at the end of a trying (to put it nicely) week, I will take these lessons in preparation of the next time, because there's always a next time.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Angry Black Bitch
Tonight I will claim the title of angry black bitch! Normally, I don't take kindly to being called a bitch but tonight I just feel like cussing the shit out of everybody so I'll do it here. Kids, cover them ears.
I cannot even go into what pissed me off today because it was a barrage of serious fuck-ups including but not limited to the signing of a 2-yr lease for an apartment. Let's just say, it was too deep to get into details. What I have taken from the way I was treated today is that motherfuckers don't give me the courtesy and respect that I deserve and give to others. So, I have decided that I will definitely need a law degree. I have been going back and forth about law school some experiences of late have brought me to a seriously angry place because of the way I was treated. I felt powerless and I HATE that feeling. Although a law degree doesn't make me omnipotent, it does tend to make people believe that there may be significant repercussions for their bad behavior. Whether it's the threat of losing money to losing their freedom, lawyers can intimidate for real and I need some of that intimidation power. It's become clear to me, people only respond to heavily laden threats at times followed by action. As a lawyer, I can sue the shit out of motherfuckers that piss me off. At least I can send them a threatening letter that tells them how easily and successfully I can destroy their lives if they don't do right by me. At this point, without the degree, I'm simply appealing to people's absent consciences. I haven't been very successful.
Unfortunately, no matter how intelligent, well-spoken and fair you are, you can't make people treat you with respect and levity. I swear I'm going to break on the next person who insults my intelligence, talks down to me, cuts me off on the road (I consider that disrespectful, like it or not!), dismisses me, passes on their responsibilities at work to me and a host of other shit that just boils my blood.
I'm not Albert Einstein but I am quite intelligent. I am no Halle Berry but I am beautiful. And I ain't no Mother Teresa but I am definitely kind. For so many reasons, I am worthy of a lot more respect and consideration than I receive on a daily basis. There comes a point when you get sick and fucking tired of giving love, kindness, respect and positive energy to other people and not getting it back. There's only so much goodness I can put into the world without getting some back. I need to replenish my resources. This is why black women are given a bad rap! Black women are some of the most caring, kind women I know. Why then are we labeled as angry and abrasive? I know! Because we get to a motherfucking point when we get tired of doing right by motherfuckers when no-motherfucking-body is doing right by us! There is only so much a person can take. I can't keep giving. I need some goodness for myself.
Let me tell you something: I know I am an amazing human being. I don't have to guess. You know why? Because I put a lot of effort and thought into how I treat other people. I am not always successful in being as good to others as I would like but I can sincerely say that I am constantly striving to be better. You know what? Other motherfuckers don't give a fuck about how they treat other people. They are concerned with getting money. They want money and power so that they don't HAVE to treat people like me with respect. Silly me. I've been living my life by The Golden Rule all this time, believing that the good I put out into the universe will come back to me somehow. Right now, I am not feeling one iota of goodness and, to be honest, I want my goodness back so I can use it on myself! If I spent half the energy I take trying to be good to others, I could be rich, powerful and happy myself. It's really something to think about.
I'm just tired of people half-assing shit with me. If I pay for a service, I expect that service to be worth the money I paid for it. Don't disrespect me as if I am getting that service for free. I deserve to be treated well. Don't assume that I don't understand something because I am a black woman. On the contrary, I tend to be significantly more intelligent than the people who try to talk down to me. Today, a woman who uses the phrase "for all intensive purposes" tried to convince ME that I did not understand the simple concept of an incentive. The problem was, she didn't understand the concept of professionalism and respect. Did I tell her that maybe she should think about what an intensive purpose was before she tried to school me? No, because I'm trying to be good.
A couple of weeks ago, a mechanic I brought my car to mistook me for a dumb bitch. You know how this goes. A little lady brings her car in because it's making a funny sound or something smells like it's burning and, because she's a little lady, she obviously has no idea what she's talking about. Furthermore, she couldn't possibly understand an explanation of basic car problems because she has a vagine! So, it must be necessary to speak to her like a child when you explain what's wrong with her car. I'm used to this shit. Yes it pisses me off to no end, but I'm not surprised by it anymore. This scenario, in particular was on a whole other level. After telling these mechanics that my car was stalling I listened to them tell me that the car did not stall when they drove it. When I told them that my car regularly rolls backwards while it's in drive and my foot is on the gas on a moderate hill, I was told that I may have "too much stuff" in the back of my car. Hmmm, so, all of a sudden this "stuff" is heavy enough to make a car in drive roll backwards down a hill? Let me make sure you understand that when I say "roll", I don't mean a couple of feet backwards. I mean yards. I mean that if I don't mash the brakes, turn the car off and back on again, I will be rolling back until kingdom come. I tried it a few times and I got angry honks from the people behind me who thought I was on a suicide mission. Normal? I'd say not. In their quest to prove that I'm dumb and don't understand cars, one of the mechanics asked me how long it takes my car to warm up once I start up the engine. When I replied that it takes a really long time and doesn't really warm up until I start driving, another mechanic proceeded to painstakingly show me how to TURN THE HEAT ON in a car I have owned for at least 4 winters. He pressed the little button and EARNESTLY explained to me that the light has to be on for me to feel the heat. Do you think he would have assumed that I was talking about the heat in my car if he thought me to be a truly thinking human being? Who doesn't know how to turn on the heat in a car they have owned for YEARS? Who doesn't know how to turn the heat on in a car they just got into? Come on!
What pisses me off is that I KNOW I'm more intelligent than most of the people who insult my intelligence. I suppose the reason they do so is precisely their lack of intelligence. It doesn't allow them to broaden their perspective enough to conceive of me as capable of complex thoughts. Even with this knowledge it still pisses me the hell off. I would say being treated like an idiot is one of my top three pet peeves. Exacerbating circumstances occur when I know that treatment is a result of me being a woman, being black or both. It often is.
By the way, I took the stuff out of the back of the car just for shits and giggles. I'll give you one guess as to whether that shit is still rolling backwards down hills at alarming rates. Any suggestions?
I cannot even go into what pissed me off today because it was a barrage of serious fuck-ups including but not limited to the signing of a 2-yr lease for an apartment. Let's just say, it was too deep to get into details. What I have taken from the way I was treated today is that motherfuckers don't give me the courtesy and respect that I deserve and give to others. So, I have decided that I will definitely need a law degree. I have been going back and forth about law school some experiences of late have brought me to a seriously angry place because of the way I was treated. I felt powerless and I HATE that feeling. Although a law degree doesn't make me omnipotent, it does tend to make people believe that there may be significant repercussions for their bad behavior. Whether it's the threat of losing money to losing their freedom, lawyers can intimidate for real and I need some of that intimidation power. It's become clear to me, people only respond to heavily laden threats at times followed by action. As a lawyer, I can sue the shit out of motherfuckers that piss me off. At least I can send them a threatening letter that tells them how easily and successfully I can destroy their lives if they don't do right by me. At this point, without the degree, I'm simply appealing to people's absent consciences. I haven't been very successful.
Unfortunately, no matter how intelligent, well-spoken and fair you are, you can't make people treat you with respect and levity. I swear I'm going to break on the next person who insults my intelligence, talks down to me, cuts me off on the road (I consider that disrespectful, like it or not!), dismisses me, passes on their responsibilities at work to me and a host of other shit that just boils my blood.
I'm not Albert Einstein but I am quite intelligent. I am no Halle Berry but I am beautiful. And I ain't no Mother Teresa but I am definitely kind. For so many reasons, I am worthy of a lot more respect and consideration than I receive on a daily basis. There comes a point when you get sick and fucking tired of giving love, kindness, respect and positive energy to other people and not getting it back. There's only so much goodness I can put into the world without getting some back. I need to replenish my resources. This is why black women are given a bad rap! Black women are some of the most caring, kind women I know. Why then are we labeled as angry and abrasive? I know! Because we get to a motherfucking point when we get tired of doing right by motherfuckers when no-motherfucking-body is doing right by us! There is only so much a person can take. I can't keep giving. I need some goodness for myself.
Let me tell you something: I know I am an amazing human being. I don't have to guess. You know why? Because I put a lot of effort and thought into how I treat other people. I am not always successful in being as good to others as I would like but I can sincerely say that I am constantly striving to be better. You know what? Other motherfuckers don't give a fuck about how they treat other people. They are concerned with getting money. They want money and power so that they don't HAVE to treat people like me with respect. Silly me. I've been living my life by The Golden Rule all this time, believing that the good I put out into the universe will come back to me somehow. Right now, I am not feeling one iota of goodness and, to be honest, I want my goodness back so I can use it on myself! If I spent half the energy I take trying to be good to others, I could be rich, powerful and happy myself. It's really something to think about.
I'm just tired of people half-assing shit with me. If I pay for a service, I expect that service to be worth the money I paid for it. Don't disrespect me as if I am getting that service for free. I deserve to be treated well. Don't assume that I don't understand something because I am a black woman. On the contrary, I tend to be significantly more intelligent than the people who try to talk down to me. Today, a woman who uses the phrase "for all intensive purposes" tried to convince ME that I did not understand the simple concept of an incentive. The problem was, she didn't understand the concept of professionalism and respect. Did I tell her that maybe she should think about what an intensive purpose was before she tried to school me? No, because I'm trying to be good.
A couple of weeks ago, a mechanic I brought my car to mistook me for a dumb bitch. You know how this goes. A little lady brings her car in because it's making a funny sound or something smells like it's burning and, because she's a little lady, she obviously has no idea what she's talking about. Furthermore, she couldn't possibly understand an explanation of basic car problems because she has a vagine! So, it must be necessary to speak to her like a child when you explain what's wrong with her car. I'm used to this shit. Yes it pisses me off to no end, but I'm not surprised by it anymore. This scenario, in particular was on a whole other level. After telling these mechanics that my car was stalling I listened to them tell me that the car did not stall when they drove it. When I told them that my car regularly rolls backwards while it's in drive and my foot is on the gas on a moderate hill, I was told that I may have "too much stuff" in the back of my car. Hmmm, so, all of a sudden this "stuff" is heavy enough to make a car in drive roll backwards down a hill? Let me make sure you understand that when I say "roll", I don't mean a couple of feet backwards. I mean yards. I mean that if I don't mash the brakes, turn the car off and back on again, I will be rolling back until kingdom come. I tried it a few times and I got angry honks from the people behind me who thought I was on a suicide mission. Normal? I'd say not. In their quest to prove that I'm dumb and don't understand cars, one of the mechanics asked me how long it takes my car to warm up once I start up the engine. When I replied that it takes a really long time and doesn't really warm up until I start driving, another mechanic proceeded to painstakingly show me how to TURN THE HEAT ON in a car I have owned for at least 4 winters. He pressed the little button and EARNESTLY explained to me that the light has to be on for me to feel the heat. Do you think he would have assumed that I was talking about the heat in my car if he thought me to be a truly thinking human being? Who doesn't know how to turn on the heat in a car they have owned for YEARS? Who doesn't know how to turn the heat on in a car they just got into? Come on!
What pisses me off is that I KNOW I'm more intelligent than most of the people who insult my intelligence. I suppose the reason they do so is precisely their lack of intelligence. It doesn't allow them to broaden their perspective enough to conceive of me as capable of complex thoughts. Even with this knowledge it still pisses me the hell off. I would say being treated like an idiot is one of my top three pet peeves. Exacerbating circumstances occur when I know that treatment is a result of me being a woman, being black or both. It often is.
By the way, I took the stuff out of the back of the car just for shits and giggles. I'll give you one guess as to whether that shit is still rolling backwards down hills at alarming rates. Any suggestions?
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Almond Milk
Almond milk
Amazing with cereal, super awkward with chocolate chip cookies.
That is all.
Amazing with cereal, super awkward with chocolate chip cookies.
That is all.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Monica is amazing!
This was one of those performances I watched in awe and that is mostly because of Monica. Now, I love Keyshia Cole. She is a passionate and beautiful artist but this wasn't her moment. Although she did alright, she was pitchy. She gets nervous often when she performs live and you can hear it in her voice.
Monica proves herself to be a seasoned veteran and an explosive talent in this performance. I mean, she is just a natural. I have been meaning to post this video for quite some time but...you know how that goes.
Anyhoo, I LOVE Monica and have gained a new respect for her artistry and skill in the past 3-4 years. What makes it better is that she has proven herself to be a classy and beautiful person inside and out as well. That just makes her music sound 10 times better. Enjoy Monica's performance here.
Monica proves herself to be a seasoned veteran and an explosive talent in this performance. I mean, she is just a natural. I have been meaning to post this video for quite some time but...you know how that goes.
Anyhoo, I LOVE Monica and have gained a new respect for her artistry and skill in the past 3-4 years. What makes it better is that she has proven herself to be a classy and beautiful person inside and out as well. That just makes her music sound 10 times better. Enjoy Monica's performance here.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Blogging for Survival
Thus far, it has been extremely difficult for me to blog. It's been hard to express my feelings because they were so intertwined with someone else that I felt I was exposing him by expressing myself. If you know me, you know I perish without self-expression. It is who I am. It is what I do. For better or for worse, I thrive on expression.
That being said, I feel I've been frozen. Before I got into my 3-year relationship that just ended, I was a person with many friends and hobbies. I spent lots of time with family and friends and valued my interactions with everyone I came into contact with. I always had opinions to express and ideas to share. Being in a relationship has stifled that for me. I don't know why that part of me perished but I am sure that I want it back desperately.
So, I am blogging to survive. I am going to over-share like a motherfucker. There is nothing I have experienced that is new under the sun so I will share it without hesitation. I am no longer concerned with offending, alienating, or exposing anyone. I am going to say what I feel. I still have tact and plan to use it but I will not be private to a fault anymore. Being private is part of what kept me in a semi-unhappy relationship for too long. I love and trust the input of my family and friends. I have been missing their contributions to my life. I thought I was protecting my relationship by being private. I thought I was sending a message to the man I love about how much I cared for him by taking pains to keep my feelings and thoughts to myself. I didn't want to subject him to criticism or ridicule. Unfortunately, this desire to protect him made me lose myself. I want me back.
So, I am blogging to survive.
That being said, I feel I've been frozen. Before I got into my 3-year relationship that just ended, I was a person with many friends and hobbies. I spent lots of time with family and friends and valued my interactions with everyone I came into contact with. I always had opinions to express and ideas to share. Being in a relationship has stifled that for me. I don't know why that part of me perished but I am sure that I want it back desperately.
So, I am blogging to survive. I am going to over-share like a motherfucker. There is nothing I have experienced that is new under the sun so I will share it without hesitation. I am no longer concerned with offending, alienating, or exposing anyone. I am going to say what I feel. I still have tact and plan to use it but I will not be private to a fault anymore. Being private is part of what kept me in a semi-unhappy relationship for too long. I love and trust the input of my family and friends. I have been missing their contributions to my life. I thought I was protecting my relationship by being private. I thought I was sending a message to the man I love about how much I cared for him by taking pains to keep my feelings and thoughts to myself. I didn't want to subject him to criticism or ridicule. Unfortunately, this desire to protect him made me lose myself. I want me back.
So, I am blogging to survive.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Nappy-headed hoes and other musings
So I posted the following on Facebook this morning. "Lord forgive me for calling that girl a "nappy-headed hoe" last night. Although the name was astonishingly perfect, it still doesn't excuse me being mean." Surprisingly, I received a lot of feedback so I figured I would post about it here in more detail.
First of all, let me make it clear that I do not dislike nappy hair. I've been wearing my hair natural my whole life. It started with my mother not letting me get a perm until I reached a certain age. By the time she let me, I didn't want one anymore. Needless to say, I've been a "nappy-headed hoe" my whole life. I was natural before it was hip. I was perm-free before it became a badge of honor for everyday card-carrying Black Nationalist. When I was in my early teens people would continually ask me "So when are you going to get a perm?" and "Don't you think you're getting a little too old for the curly hair thing?" And then they'd try to use positive reinforcement every time I got a blow-out by telling me "You look so nice with straight hair. You should keep it that way!" My conservative Jamaican aunt would continually ask me if I'd combed my hair that day and my even more conservative 90-year old Jamaican aunt sincerely expressed concerns about why I was growing dreadlocks (I was not growing locks).
Even with those comments, I think most would agree, my hair has always looked "put together." I have always worn my natural hair extremely neatly. It's probably due to the fact that I cultivated my natural look in a time without much acceptance for natural hair in almost any state but I have always been obsessed with looking neat. Honestly, if I walk out the house looking wild, I have always secretly believed I looked akin to a runaway slave. I'm not even gonna lie.
That being said, I don't think that every girl who wears her hair natural should wear it conservatively. One should express their own personality with all aspects of their style. My personal penchance for structure (read:anal retentive OCD) is clearly expressed with the way I choose to style my hair but I see lots of women who wear a more whimsical style beautifully. For the record, I'm learning to break out of my strict Caribbean upbringing by letting my hair wild a little more often. People always respond with praise to my wild hair days.
Needless to say, I am not biased against a little wild nappyness. What I do not like is a woman who figures that, because her hair is natural, WHATEVER she chooses to do with it is a good look. Let's be real here. God made us naturally beautiful but he gave us hands for a reason. They should be used to arrange one's hair on their head in an aesthetically pleasing form. At least that is what I believe. I am tired of girls using natural hair as an excuse to come out their house looking tore up. These women are giving natural hair a bad name.
I bumped into a girl like this last night. Actually, she bumped into me. That's why she became the object of this post. To be honest, if she had never started bumping into me and my friend repeatedly and unnecessarily while dancing off-beat and flailing her horrible hair in our faces, I would have just regarded her as a poor girl who hadn't quite mastered her hair yet. But it was this bothersome behaviour that made her the target of my ire and thus christened her "the nappy-headed hoe."
There were actually a number of nappy-headed hoes at the party I went to last night. I'm not surprised as "The Freedom Party" is pretty much their scene. I have nothing but love for The Freedom Party. I am now officially too old to be going to parties where the DJ is going through the top-played 10 Hot 97 records of the past 10 years. The Freedom Party is where music lovers come to church. It's a party where everyone is focused on the music and they're singing along to every word.
This party attracts a different crowd. At their best, they are naturally beautiful, intelligent positive people of color who want to go to a party with a good vibe and not have to hear about bitches crawling from the window to the wall with skeet skeet skeet on their backs getting superman'd and all other types of ignorance. At their worst, they attract a bunch of self-righteous negroes who believe their education and enlightenment give them the right to look down on people whose hair doesn't look like a bird's nest and don't feel the need to always wear earth-toned linens and "I *heart* my hair" tees to prove they love black people.
Last night, the balance was off. There were some beautiful positive people there just having a great time dancing to the music but they were overpowered by a number of nappy-headed hoes who looked like they ran out of moisturizer before they finished their hairstyle so they had to pretend that's how they meant to look. The particular young lady that I took issue with looked as if she actually worked hard to make her hair look dry and trashy. I wish I had a picture but I'll try to paint a picture for you all. The hair was dyed reddish brown. A hair color that you think only still exists in a Blaxploitation film. It's definitely not a modern auburn. I don't even think this color comes in a box. It looked like she poured scalding hot water on one of my mother's sweaters from the 70's until the color began to bleed and then soaked her hair in it. I didn't know hair color could be vintage until I looked at hers.
Anyhoo, the hair looked in need of a wash. It wasn't curly but it wasn't knotty throughout. Just at the ends, like she had attempted to run a comb through it but gave up and only succeeded in pushing all the naps to the end. Is this a style? No, seriously. Because I'm seeing a lot of women with this and it honestly looks like they didn't finish combing their hair. Anyway, it seems that once she gave up on "combing it through", she then haphazardly placed a few bobby pins in various parts of the hair with no rhyme or reason. Furthermore, I don't even know what she was attempting to hold with those pins. What resulted was a badly clipped, un-sexy mess.
Maybe the bad lighting did her wrong. If that's the case, I sincerely apologize to that nappy-headed hoe for so harshly judging her. Unfortunately, it's more likely that she was just a nappy-headed hoe. And in accordance with her "free spirit" hairstyling, this black lovechild was swaying back and forth like she was auditioning for Alvin Ailey and not in the middle of a packed party in a Brooklyn basement.
The first 10 times she bumped into me, I thought, "Fine. She's having a good time and has a loosely held concept of personal space. I'm not gonna get angry because this is a party of positive people." Seriously, I really have to talk myself down in these situations. I have an anger management problem. This is my self-help. But after being bumped and pushed around for a half-hour, I could make no more excuses. This nappy-headed hoe was about to get it.
So, I pulled out the comb I usually carry around in my purse for moments like this and placed myself behind her carefully so I could be perfectly poised for the task at hand. I waited until a song transition when my nappy-headed friend would undoubtedly hesitate before failing at an attempt to catch the beat of a new song and grabbed her by the forehead. I tackled her and pinned her down to the ground like a wrestler or like my mother used to do me on Sunday nights after a laborious whole day of hair-washing and proceeded to run a comb from the roots of her hair to the ends. But alas, the task I had taken on was more than I could have ever imagined. The comb would not move. The hair was much too dry. So I called for back up.
"Joanne!" I cried to my friend. "Please grab that spray bottle and carrot cream from my purse!" Joanne gave me the tools I desired and I went to work. My nappy-headed friend didn't know what hit her. By the time she figured it all out I had moisturized and combed those ends, rearranged those sadly placed pins and made this child a woman again. I let her up (I had been holding her down this whole time) and she slowly and incredulously placed her hands on her hair. Smiling slowly, she realized what had been done and thanked me. The young man dancing with her thanked me even more for she had been assaulting his face with her dry-ass hair. I put my tools away and went back to dancing, secure in the knowledge that I was changing the world, one nappy-headed hoe at at a time
Disclaimer: I shouldn't need one because this is my blog and I can be as ign'ant as I want on here but I love black women and I want to make sure that it's clear how much I love natural hair of all textures, fully support black women going natural and have never used the n'word (nappy) so much in my life. Please know that I have no problem with nappy-headed hoes. I have a problem with dry-ass, lazy hair-styled hoes.
First of all, let me make it clear that I do not dislike nappy hair. I've been wearing my hair natural my whole life. It started with my mother not letting me get a perm until I reached a certain age. By the time she let me, I didn't want one anymore. Needless to say, I've been a "nappy-headed hoe" my whole life. I was natural before it was hip. I was perm-free before it became a badge of honor for everyday card-carrying Black Nationalist. When I was in my early teens people would continually ask me "So when are you going to get a perm?" and "Don't you think you're getting a little too old for the curly hair thing?" And then they'd try to use positive reinforcement every time I got a blow-out by telling me "You look so nice with straight hair. You should keep it that way!" My conservative Jamaican aunt would continually ask me if I'd combed my hair that day and my even more conservative 90-year old Jamaican aunt sincerely expressed concerns about why I was growing dreadlocks (I was not growing locks).
Even with those comments, I think most would agree, my hair has always looked "put together." I have always worn my natural hair extremely neatly. It's probably due to the fact that I cultivated my natural look in a time without much acceptance for natural hair in almost any state but I have always been obsessed with looking neat. Honestly, if I walk out the house looking wild, I have always secretly believed I looked akin to a runaway slave. I'm not even gonna lie.
That being said, I don't think that every girl who wears her hair natural should wear it conservatively. One should express their own personality with all aspects of their style. My personal penchance for structure (read:anal retentive OCD) is clearly expressed with the way I choose to style my hair but I see lots of women who wear a more whimsical style beautifully. For the record, I'm learning to break out of my strict Caribbean upbringing by letting my hair wild a little more often. People always respond with praise to my wild hair days.
Needless to say, I am not biased against a little wild nappyness. What I do not like is a woman who figures that, because her hair is natural, WHATEVER she chooses to do with it is a good look. Let's be real here. God made us naturally beautiful but he gave us hands for a reason. They should be used to arrange one's hair on their head in an aesthetically pleasing form. At least that is what I believe. I am tired of girls using natural hair as an excuse to come out their house looking tore up. These women are giving natural hair a bad name.
I bumped into a girl like this last night. Actually, she bumped into me. That's why she became the object of this post. To be honest, if she had never started bumping into me and my friend repeatedly and unnecessarily while dancing off-beat and flailing her horrible hair in our faces, I would have just regarded her as a poor girl who hadn't quite mastered her hair yet. But it was this bothersome behaviour that made her the target of my ire and thus christened her "the nappy-headed hoe."
There were actually a number of nappy-headed hoes at the party I went to last night. I'm not surprised as "The Freedom Party" is pretty much their scene. I have nothing but love for The Freedom Party. I am now officially too old to be going to parties where the DJ is going through the top-played 10 Hot 97 records of the past 10 years. The Freedom Party is where music lovers come to church. It's a party where everyone is focused on the music and they're singing along to every word.
This party attracts a different crowd. At their best, they are naturally beautiful, intelligent positive people of color who want to go to a party with a good vibe and not have to hear about bitches crawling from the window to the wall with skeet skeet skeet on their backs getting superman'd and all other types of ignorance. At their worst, they attract a bunch of self-righteous negroes who believe their education and enlightenment give them the right to look down on people whose hair doesn't look like a bird's nest and don't feel the need to always wear earth-toned linens and "I *heart* my hair" tees to prove they love black people.
Last night, the balance was off. There were some beautiful positive people there just having a great time dancing to the music but they were overpowered by a number of nappy-headed hoes who looked like they ran out of moisturizer before they finished their hairstyle so they had to pretend that's how they meant to look. The particular young lady that I took issue with looked as if she actually worked hard to make her hair look dry and trashy. I wish I had a picture but I'll try to paint a picture for you all. The hair was dyed reddish brown. A hair color that you think only still exists in a Blaxploitation film. It's definitely not a modern auburn. I don't even think this color comes in a box. It looked like she poured scalding hot water on one of my mother's sweaters from the 70's until the color began to bleed and then soaked her hair in it. I didn't know hair color could be vintage until I looked at hers.
Anyhoo, the hair looked in need of a wash. It wasn't curly but it wasn't knotty throughout. Just at the ends, like she had attempted to run a comb through it but gave up and only succeeded in pushing all the naps to the end. Is this a style? No, seriously. Because I'm seeing a lot of women with this and it honestly looks like they didn't finish combing their hair. Anyway, it seems that once she gave up on "combing it through", she then haphazardly placed a few bobby pins in various parts of the hair with no rhyme or reason. Furthermore, I don't even know what she was attempting to hold with those pins. What resulted was a badly clipped, un-sexy mess.
Maybe the bad lighting did her wrong. If that's the case, I sincerely apologize to that nappy-headed hoe for so harshly judging her. Unfortunately, it's more likely that she was just a nappy-headed hoe. And in accordance with her "free spirit" hairstyling, this black lovechild was swaying back and forth like she was auditioning for Alvin Ailey and not in the middle of a packed party in a Brooklyn basement.
The first 10 times she bumped into me, I thought, "Fine. She's having a good time and has a loosely held concept of personal space. I'm not gonna get angry because this is a party of positive people." Seriously, I really have to talk myself down in these situations. I have an anger management problem. This is my self-help. But after being bumped and pushed around for a half-hour, I could make no more excuses. This nappy-headed hoe was about to get it.
So, I pulled out the comb I usually carry around in my purse for moments like this and placed myself behind her carefully so I could be perfectly poised for the task at hand. I waited until a song transition when my nappy-headed friend would undoubtedly hesitate before failing at an attempt to catch the beat of a new song and grabbed her by the forehead. I tackled her and pinned her down to the ground like a wrestler or like my mother used to do me on Sunday nights after a laborious whole day of hair-washing and proceeded to run a comb from the roots of her hair to the ends. But alas, the task I had taken on was more than I could have ever imagined. The comb would not move. The hair was much too dry. So I called for back up.
"Joanne!" I cried to my friend. "Please grab that spray bottle and carrot cream from my purse!" Joanne gave me the tools I desired and I went to work. My nappy-headed friend didn't know what hit her. By the time she figured it all out I had moisturized and combed those ends, rearranged those sadly placed pins and made this child a woman again. I let her up (I had been holding her down this whole time) and she slowly and incredulously placed her hands on her hair. Smiling slowly, she realized what had been done and thanked me. The young man dancing with her thanked me even more for she had been assaulting his face with her dry-ass hair. I put my tools away and went back to dancing, secure in the knowledge that I was changing the world, one nappy-headed hoe at at a time
Disclaimer: I shouldn't need one because this is my blog and I can be as ign'ant as I want on here but I love black women and I want to make sure that it's clear how much I love natural hair of all textures, fully support black women going natural and have never used the n'word (nappy) so much in my life. Please know that I have no problem with nappy-headed hoes. I have a problem with dry-ass, lazy hair-styled hoes.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
I Heart Mike Tyson's Running Man
A few friends of mine already posted this video on Facebook but I had to share because Mike Tyson is the most endearing dancer I've ever seen. He's so animated and excited in this video it makes me wanna ask, "What ear-biting incident?" and "Robin Who?" Who can deny that face and those sincerely executed 90's moves? Lub-dub goes my heart.
On another note, I know it's common knowledge that Bobby Brown is a full-blown crackhead, among other things but am I the only person who gasped in horror at 2:30 when he opens his shirt and goes "aaaaahhhh"? Where are his teeth? I don't know if there's a couple missing or they just spread themselves apart. This is the "King of R&B"? Meanwhile, Whitney can't sing anymore.
These folks are just fanning the flames of a fire in which my childhood memories, heroes and innocence are all burning. Luckily, I'm quite good at separating who these people have become from the people I loved when I was a child. It's really helped me preserve good memories. You should try it. It works with people you know too! Just don't do it on a significant other because it'll be the reason you stay in a relationship too long. Then you'll wake up one day and realise that you don't even know the person you're with anymore because you've been too busy loving up who they used to be. Anyhoo, I have more than digressed. That is all for now.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Female Road Warrior
The best part of my day happened like this:
It's 1:45 pm and I'm pulling my well-loved (read, beat-up) minivan over on Third Avenue near 62nd Street to snag a parking spot that just opened up. My mother(professional back-seat driver) and I had been frantically looking for a spot because we were late for an appointment. As I quickly park in the spot, a middle-aged, heavy set white man who had been leaning on the meter exclaims:
"Whoa! You drive that van like a man!"
Me: "Why, thank you!"
Him: "Girl. I was standing here thinking that has got to be a man driving that van and then I see you!"
Me: *girly giggles and blushing*
That means a lot coming from a man. I take special pride in my ability to drive like a man. I can handle myself on the road. I'm a feminist and all, but when it comes to driving, it's an insult to call me a woman driver. Women drivers are hesitant, doubtful, passive and unfocused. When I'm driving, it is the main event. I'm not going to wait and see if the cab in front of me is going to pick up that group of drunk girls 50 feet ahead. I'm gonna overtake his ass so that I don't get caught behind him when he does. You feel me? You know what pisses me the hell off? I'm minding my business, speeding down the West Side Highway after another day of work and some blonde bitch in a black navigator nearly runs me into the damn Hudson river because she's yapping away on her cellphone. My thing is that if you don't weigh more than 150 pounds, you shouldn't be driving an SUV. I can't tell you how many times some little white girl has almost killed me because she can't drive a damn SUV. The worst part is that they're always alone in the car. Why are you driving an SUV alone?
One of my pet peeves is when random men on the street try to tell me how to operate my vehicle because I'm a woman. I can parallel park without keenly watching the vigorous hand motions you're making. I can do a broken u-turn without your guidance. I can merge into traffic and change lanes without your OK. I know I have breasts and I can look really cute and sweet to the untrained eye but I'm actually a crazy bitch behind the wheel. When you get in my car just put on your seat belt and prepare yourself for a thrilling (yet completely safe!) journey. I'm actually thinking of turning my minivan into a theme park ride. I'm just saying. Ask any of my friends how far-fetched that is.
But for real though, behind the wheel, I'm racist, sexist, classist (firefox says this isn't a word), ageist, homophobic, Islamophobic (I just wanted to say that)...you name it. Basically I hate everybody on the road that isn't me. I have a very specific and strongly held stereotype for every single type of driver and they're all negative! There are some neighborhoods I won't even drive through cause demographics have consistently proven them unnavigable! Yeah, this may sound horrible but I have tried and tested these theories. They are not coincidental!
One of my craziest moments in the car was one morning when I had to jump out of bed to move the car (street cleaning shit) and I hadn't combed my hair. This was when I was unemployed and lived on Second Avenue where they're building a subway! It was not a good combination. There were so few parking spaces that I would often park in a spot where I'd have to move my car early the next morning because, after driving around my neighborhood for hours falling asleep at the wheel, it was clear I wouldn't be getting the parking I needed that night. It also means that many a morning I overslept and ended up jumping out of my sleep and running out of the house wearing my baggy thermal underwear (which my boyfriend titled "the no-sex leggings") tucked into rain boots and a granny sweater to make sure I didn't get a ticket. Unemployed bitches cannot afford tickets. Anyhoo, I digress. This was a morning like any other but I suppose my hair was looking extra matted. I honestly didn't give a fuck because, if I remember correctly, I was having an emotionally dramatic personal crisis and just hated the world. So this dude believes I cut him off and he comes after me honking and cussing. Naturally, I respond in kind being lewd and lascivious as only I can be and I apparently shocked him because he got this horrified look on his face and said, "Go comb your hair!" He promptly speeds away leaving me, matted afro and all staring, dropped jaw in disbelief on how I just got played by this corny ass white man. I mean, yes, my hair looked a little wild but damn. My hair had nothing to do with it. That was a low blow. I drove home in silence. I guess he shut me the hell up.
Ahhh...driving in this city is a trip. Pun intended.
It's 1:45 pm and I'm pulling my well-loved (read, beat-up) minivan over on Third Avenue near 62nd Street to snag a parking spot that just opened up. My mother(professional back-seat driver) and I had been frantically looking for a spot because we were late for an appointment. As I quickly park in the spot, a middle-aged, heavy set white man who had been leaning on the meter exclaims:
"Whoa! You drive that van like a man!"
Me: "Why, thank you!"
Him: "Girl. I was standing here thinking that has got to be a man driving that van and then I see you!"
Me: *girly giggles and blushing*
That means a lot coming from a man. I take special pride in my ability to drive like a man. I can handle myself on the road. I'm a feminist and all, but when it comes to driving, it's an insult to call me a woman driver. Women drivers are hesitant, doubtful, passive and unfocused. When I'm driving, it is the main event. I'm not going to wait and see if the cab in front of me is going to pick up that group of drunk girls 50 feet ahead. I'm gonna overtake his ass so that I don't get caught behind him when he does. You feel me? You know what pisses me the hell off? I'm minding my business, speeding down the West Side Highway after another day of work and some blonde bitch in a black navigator nearly runs me into the damn Hudson river because she's yapping away on her cellphone. My thing is that if you don't weigh more than 150 pounds, you shouldn't be driving an SUV. I can't tell you how many times some little white girl has almost killed me because she can't drive a damn SUV. The worst part is that they're always alone in the car. Why are you driving an SUV alone?
One of my pet peeves is when random men on the street try to tell me how to operate my vehicle because I'm a woman. I can parallel park without keenly watching the vigorous hand motions you're making. I can do a broken u-turn without your guidance. I can merge into traffic and change lanes without your OK. I know I have breasts and I can look really cute and sweet to the untrained eye but I'm actually a crazy bitch behind the wheel. When you get in my car just put on your seat belt and prepare yourself for a thrilling (yet completely safe!) journey. I'm actually thinking of turning my minivan into a theme park ride. I'm just saying. Ask any of my friends how far-fetched that is.
But for real though, behind the wheel, I'm racist, sexist, classist (firefox says this isn't a word), ageist, homophobic, Islamophobic (I just wanted to say that)...you name it. Basically I hate everybody on the road that isn't me. I have a very specific and strongly held stereotype for every single type of driver and they're all negative! There are some neighborhoods I won't even drive through cause demographics have consistently proven them unnavigable! Yeah, this may sound horrible but I have tried and tested these theories. They are not coincidental!
One of my craziest moments in the car was one morning when I had to jump out of bed to move the car (street cleaning shit) and I hadn't combed my hair. This was when I was unemployed and lived on Second Avenue where they're building a subway! It was not a good combination. There were so few parking spaces that I would often park in a spot where I'd have to move my car early the next morning because, after driving around my neighborhood for hours falling asleep at the wheel, it was clear I wouldn't be getting the parking I needed that night. It also means that many a morning I overslept and ended up jumping out of my sleep and running out of the house wearing my baggy thermal underwear (which my boyfriend titled "the no-sex leggings") tucked into rain boots and a granny sweater to make sure I didn't get a ticket. Unemployed bitches cannot afford tickets. Anyhoo, I digress. This was a morning like any other but I suppose my hair was looking extra matted. I honestly didn't give a fuck because, if I remember correctly, I was having an emotionally dramatic personal crisis and just hated the world. So this dude believes I cut him off and he comes after me honking and cussing. Naturally, I respond in kind being lewd and lascivious as only I can be and I apparently shocked him because he got this horrified look on his face and said, "Go comb your hair!" He promptly speeds away leaving me, matted afro and all staring, dropped jaw in disbelief on how I just got played by this corny ass white man. I mean, yes, my hair looked a little wild but damn. My hair had nothing to do with it. That was a low blow. I drove home in silence. I guess he shut me the hell up.
Ahhh...driving in this city is a trip. Pun intended.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Update
So, I still haven't started updating this blog enough to expect any readers but I'm gonna keep on until I get a little better. I have made some changes since my last post that are improving the quality of my life. I have lost about 20 pounds! I can fit into the clothes that I had to pack away when I started gaining weight and I'm planning on losing another 15-20 lbs. Yay! Also, I moved earlier this month into a bigger apartment that I love! I can't write much more right now but I will be coming back for another update soon. This post is a little insipid for my taste. I need to impart some angry black woman-ness on my imaginary readers.
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