Flattery will get you pregnant...

On my previous post, a commenter said "Please remember that imitation is the best form of flattery as i send this to him [HER man]."

I was indeed very flattered by this, but damn if I haven’t been thinking about it ever since. Maybe it’s the writer buried in me but I want to know the story. What’s the background story? How was my post sent? Directed to the blog with a sexy note “Hmmm. How did she know about last night?”?? Via text with a naughty photo attachment?? On voicemail, in your sexiest late night radio disc jockey voice??

And ummmmm so what happened afterwards? Did he respond? How did he respond? Did he give you that grin like “Wait until I get my hands you!”?? Was he nonchalant? Did he blush (yes men blush)? Did he put an extra dip in it, something to inspire another search for intimate prose? Did he just give the head nod like “cool” and turn back to ESPN?? Did he squeal with delight? (Hey, I make no judgments. Hahahaha). Did you get laid- REPEATEDLY (inside joke) – because of something I said. Sheeeeeeit, just the thought of that is mind blowing (pun/innuendo intended).

As you can see my need for details is overwhelming, insatiable even. I am not exaggerating when I say I have thought about this long and hard (that’s what he said…hahaha). I have an entire scenario playing in my mind. Actually there are a few scenarios running around in this dome of mine. I may need to make a phone call. :)

And lastly, did I get credit??? As I said in my response to her comment, like Ms. Badu “I’m sensitive about my shit” (see how I gave Erykah Badu credit for five words that she strung together that someone before her may have said but now since she sang those 8 syllables, we now attribute them to her?? That’s what I’m talking about). While my friends give birth to babies, I give birth to strings of words and thoughts. You can’t just run up and steal somebody’s baby. I mean well you could but ummm you know you run the risk of being your cellmate’s bitch for the next 10-15 years of confinement. But you get what I mean.

Anonymous, I really do appreciate the love but your 2 sentences got my notebook pregnant.

An Artist's Wish

I wish I were a painter. If I were, I would paint long ebony strokes on the canvas to mirror his long limbs, making sure to capture the silkiness of his chocolate skin.

I wish I were a sculptor. If I were, I would mold and sculpt until the clay resembled the hard lines of his muscles while capturing the softness of his pose.

I wish I were a photographer. From my position, I would take multiple frames of his fingers. Intertwined and dangling between his knees as he rested his elbows on his knees as a perch. I would switch up and take pictures of his mouth, just to freeze that half smirk in time.

I wish I were a cinematographer. The scene would open as that one bead of sweat trickled down from his forehead to join the million others on his chest. Then I would focus entirely on the contradiction of his face - the relaxed slumber of his sleeping eyes playing against the smile reaching all the up to his cheekbones. The soundtrack on my movie short would be a combination of his breath slowing down and returning to normal mixed with the early morning not even dawn yet chirp of a lone bird outside.

Since I'm none of these, I just laid there and studied him instead. Committing every muscle, every movement to memory for days like today when I need a smile.

I have something to say.....

Like many, I watched Black in America 2 Part 1 last night on CNN. While watching, I logged on to Facebook to see if anyone had anything to say about it. During the BET awards debacle, Facebook provided more entertainment that anything Debra Lee and her henchmen could ever produce, so I thought there might be some interesting dialogue occurring during this documentary style program.

I was wrong.

For the most part, from what I saw from many of my “friends”, either they hated it, weren’t impressed or weren’t watching. I was kind of taken aback by some of the negative comments I saw posted. Are we watching the same channel??

Now, I will admit, I had reservations about watching the program, especially since I didn’t like the first installment which aired last summer. Not necessarily because of the topics presented (which were slightly skewed to the more depressing aspects of our lives), but mostly because it seemed thrown together shoddily in response to the groundswell of interest in Blacks in America because of the growing support and acceptance of a particular Illinois Senator who shocked the hell out of everyone in politics who thought he had a snowball’s chance in hell of becoming POTUS.

So last night after taking my mom to purchase her new TV (I’m soooo jealous by the way…ahahahaha), I begrudgingly sat down to watch CNN’s portrayal of Blacks in this country, hoping this wouldn’t be some thrown together foolishness. I never turned the channel. I was proud and inspired. The portrayal of Malaak Compton Rock’s foundation reminded me of everything I loved about teaching and everything I miss about it. It would be really easy for her to sit back and be a Hollywood wife, who writes checks and sits on boards while others do the labor intensive work and she’s hailed on the cover of some magazine as the “savior”. Later on in the program, the sub-story of the high school senior who got into college despite everything she had going against her made me shed a tear (or 10). I was so proud of her. Her accomplishments should be hailed as triumphant and not lumped as “unimpressive”.

One of the latter segments of the program was about the affluent sector of the black population. One comment on Facebook read “Yay! Uppity black folks”. I was disgusted. Primarily, because I loathe the word “uppity”. Its connotation is reflective of someone who has stepped out of line and needs to be brought back to reality. But in this case living the affluent “American Dream” is their reality. I don’t know if the commenter was actually celebrating this segment because they identified with this population or if they were being sarcastic and marginalizing a segment of “us”. I turned off the computer after that. I was done. By the way, what I loved most about this segment was the opposing views on the seemingly exclusionary tactics used by many affluent people of color. That topic could be a 2 hour documentary on its own.

While everyone is entitled to their own opinion, I think many missed the mark on this program. Yes, in general, the ideas presented may be ideas, situations and circumstances that we, as black folks, are familiar with so in general, it may be “nothing new.” What's old to some may be "new" to others - who I really believe is the target for this series. I believe what is “new” is the fact that a major respected news station is making attempts to highlight the many facets of what it means to be Black in this country – something many of us are still holding our breaths for BET to do. What’s “new” is there is a program in which we are not shucking and jiving for the entire world to see – something we are waiting for BET to stop doing. What’s “new” is learning about these specific solution oriented programs, which win or lose are out there making a difference. What's new is being inspired by the images of ourselves we see on television instead of shaking our heads like "damn, they just had to be black." What's "new" is 2 hours of not completely positive or completely negative but realistic coverage of the lives of some black people in this country. Isn't that impressive??

We are not a monolithic people. Never have been, never will be. We cannot be easily shuffled into categories like a library filing system. Contrary to the images blasted on the station dedicated to “black entertainment” daily, we are just as diverse as every race in America with opposing views, various upbringings, and a sundry of value systems. Every story and every angle can’t be told but this time around, the effort is impressive. Well, at least to me it is.

I'll be watching Part 2 tonight. Without my computer companion.

Discuss.

Please tell me you're adopted......

In this here blog world, I suck. Lately, I just haven't given much effort to writing and I feel it. Have you ever heard gym rats say ridiculous things like "Oh my God! I didn't work out today and I feel my spleen getting fat as we speak?" and you roll your eyes at them and their ridiculousity?? Well, I feel like my brain is bloated, waiting to pour words onto paper (er...these days keyboards and monitors but you get the point). But something is amiss and I can't quite put my finger on it. I hope whatever it is finds its way back to me so I can write again. I hate feeling bloated.

I spent this past weekend with my family at my grandmother's house. If any of you have been reading this blog for a while, you know that this was probably the last place I wanted to be for the weekend. But we were there to celebrate my grandmother's birthday and there was nooooo way in hell I could wiggle out of that one. Don't get me wrong I love my family but like my Facebook status said yesterday, I can only take them in small doses like potent medicine.

So lets start with the highlights if you will. I saw a cousin I haven't seen since I was a little girl. She's a twin who was born with the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck in the sixties, so as a result she has significant mental and physical delays. As a child, I loved her. I was never afraid of her or questioned why her voice was different or why she needed help doing things that I, a four year old could do. I would just grab her by her good hand and introduce her to my make-believe world (as an only child my imagination was on high orange alert). She was the only grown-up content to play with me allll day and never tire of me, my games, or my hyperactive imagination.
Years ago, after her mother passed away and her father was incapable of caring for her, she went to live at an independent living facility where people like her were not treated like hospital ridden invalids but taught to live as independently as each individual can. And, shame on me, I haven't seen her since. I would always ask her sisters about her whenever I saw them but never made the effort to see her.
When I arrived on Saturday, I went over to greet her and hug her. I asked if she remembered me. She looked at me blankly for a moment until I said "I'm Pam's daughter". She grinned and hugged me again, harder this time. This time we played her game, guessing the right $1,000,000 briefcase on a few episodes of Deal or No Deal. Neither of us guessed right on the couple of episodes we watched but we cracked up just the same. It was great seeing her and if it means dealing with the family to see her then I guess it's worth it.

Saturday was also my cousin's wife's birthday. She and I had a really deep slightly tipsy heart to heart Saturday night after leaving the club. I know many folks think my cousin married to young (he's 7 years my junior with 2 sons) but I have a new-found appreciation for this woman and what she has brought to my cousin's life.

Now for the foolishness. Damnit there was so much foolywag foolishness going on in a 2 day period I don't know if I have the time or the energy to document it all but here are some highlights:

*I bought my uncle in law a burger from Five Guys (my first time going to this burger place. I don't even like burgers all like that but this was tasty and served its purpose because after traveling all morning to get there, I was HUNGRAY). He went out back while I stayed in the house to chow down. Later I asked him how was it. He said "we enjoyed it".
"We???" I asked.
"Yeah me and [relative's death dog]. She was looking at me all pitiful so I shared it with her."
"What?! Do you know how much I paid for that damn burger??!!!. That's wasn't off the dollar menu at Mickey D's!!!! "

*Speaking of the death dog, the owner, my relative made sure this designer mutt was in every freaking family photo we took on Saturday (including the one by the birthday cake; needless to say, I didn't eat cake). Dog cradled in her arms like a newborn. Also, the death dog tried to eat my hot off the grill BBQ rib. I gave the lil bitch the finger and growled back. It seemed to work. She stayed away from me for the rest of the weekend.

*Like I mentioned before Saturday night, my cousin, his wife, and I went out for her birthday. We drove up to Atlantic City to get our party on. Hours later, tired and tipsy, I took my shoes off and walked up my grandmother's drive way just as the sky began changing to a lighter hue of blue. We tiptoe into the house as to not disturb those camped out on the air mattresses. My cousin and his wife were in one guest room, while I shared the guest room with the twin beds with my mother (I call it the "dorm room"....hahahaha). Before leaving the house, I had carefully laid my night clothes out on the bed with my glasses and contact solution on the night stand. That twin bed was calling me as I crossed the living room. I nudged open the door to the sound of my mother sleeping. I look over to my bed and there is somebody in my bed. WTF???? THIS AINT GOLDILOCKS AND THE THREE FUCKING BEARS. This ain't even a Dru Hill song. I realize the bed trespasser is my aunt - my mother's younger sister, who I have a very strained relationship with to begin with. Okay, maybe I shouldn't have taken that last shot because I'm hallucinating, right??? I look over my shoulder to see my aunt's husband fast asleep on the air mattress that he and his wife occupied when I left earlier that night. I don't know why, I don't care to know why, but this heffa is not only in my bed but tossed my pj's on the floor. FUCCCCCKKKKKKK!!! "Where am I supposed to sleep???" I wonder as I pull off my dress and slip into my tossed pajamas. I return to the living room to find a teeny tiny love seat unoccupied. I snatch the blanket off the bed I was supposed to be sleeping on, turn up the AC in the house just a little (don't want my god-sons getting sick), and mimic the best fetal position I know how. To sleep for all of 3 hours. Why 3 hours?? Well because I was in the living room silly, and people were ready to start living in that piece at 8 in the morning. My grandmother admonished me for sleeping on the love seat, and I replied quite loudly so the offending family member could hear "IF SOMEONE WASN'T SO SELFISH AS TO TAKE MY BED WHEN THEY ALREADY HAD A BED THEN MAYBE I WOULDN'T HAVE TO SLEEP ON YOUR LOVE SEAT" to which my grandmother replied, "yeah I know". That's it???!!! This is the same lady who made me sit at the kitchen table until dinnertime because I refused to eat nasty ass Cheerios for breakfast. I want justice!!!!

*Death dog's owner kind of offered me a ride home with the understanding I would have to ride in the back seat because the dog sits up front. I opted for the train. Riding back to New York with strangers had to be more sane that this back of trixx are for kids I'm related to.


I had to ask my mother if she really is related to these people. When she laughed and said yes, I had to quote Jay-z and respond "I don't believe you. You need more people."

Thankfully (thankfully) I won't have to spend extended time with these folks until the holidays. I'm starting my holiday husband search early this year. Like yesterday.

Bit by the Travel Butterfly..again

I went away....again. This time to Martha's Vineyard. I have a group of friends who go every year and every year without fail they invite me, I'm down, then something comes up and I can't go. Well except for this year. Time, opportunity, and the finances all lined up to allow this butterfly to spread her wings and take a journey up to New England.

Like the other trips I've taken this year, this was a first. While I've heard of the Vineyard, my experience with it came from watching the movie, Inkwell. Although I'm a private school prodigy, I wasn't a Jack and Jill kid. My parents didn't use the word summer as a verb as in "We summer every year in the Cape". I had no clue what to expect. All I know is that I was going with my houghmies (that's what we call each other....or hough for short) and that I had actually confined all that I needed to take with me into my new Cole Haan brown leather weekend duffle bag and my Coach brown suede carry on tote. That, exclusively, deserves a round of applause because damn if I don't try to pack the kitchen and the bathroom sink whenever I go away.

I arrived Thursday. It was a nasty rainy mess all day until we got to the ferry. I swear on every pair of shoes I love, the clouds seem to part and the sun made her debut about 15-20 minutes before I arrived at the ferry. Upon boarding the ferry and finding seats on the sunny top deck, I was in awe of the amount of Black folks I saw. Call me ignant (yes, ignant) if you want, but I had nooooooo idea this many black folks escaped to the Vineyard for the 4th.

During the 45 minute ride, I took in all of the natural beauty around me: the water, the scenic tree covered cliffs, the pretty boys sitting on the opposite of the deck from me. Hmmmmm, this might be more fun that I thought, and I silently cursed that I didn’t pack more outfits. But whatev, in terms of my wardrobe I was going to have to “make it do what it do”. And I did.

On the 4th, we attended a beach party in South Beach (not Miami’s South Beach….I’m not that much of a jetsetter….yet! there’s a South Beach in the Vineyard also). Upon arriving at the pre-determined location, I squealed (yes squealed) at the sight of all these beautiful black folks. A sea of folks, lounging, sipping, dancing, eating, flirting, frolicking. It was as if my whole black college experience had been uprooted and replanted on the shores of Martha’s Vineyard. My houghmies and I sipped on a concoction alllllllllll day. It was so yummy and delish. I wish someone was sober enough to have written it down. hahahaaaa (Sidebar: Does anyone else wonder how you can drink like a fish on vacation and still function but have 2 glasses of wine at home and feel a lil tipsy?? hahahaha)

If I had to sum up the entire trip in one word, I guess I would say it was idyllic. The gingerbread houses, as they are called, were cozy. The walks to The Circuit were peppered with friendly hellos as you walked past people sitting in huge rocking chairs on their porches. The rocky beaches werethe landscape of children collecting seashells and running into the not so warm water with absolute glee, couples at different stages of the age continuum canoodling. Everyone was just as easy as the breeze. I could have stayed there forever.

So like all of my trips so far this year, I plan on returning to the vineyard. Note to self: May need to rethink teaching. I need an abundance of annual vacation time. LOL

Oh yeah this was dinner! :)