Text Stance

I'm in week 11 of a 10 week training cycle. No, you're mind is not playing tricks on you. Yes, I wrote that correctly. One of my sites needed to start later than the other sites so we tacked on an extra week at the end. When this decision was made, back in the sunny everything is great days of summer, it didn't seem like a big deal. Now??? I curse having to dress in "work" clothes, travel 30 minutes to conduct a ONE HOUR training session and then bounce. I'm grateful for the work but I'm the only trainer who's not getting a full 17 day break between Summer Cycle and Fall Cycle. With this last training classes and meetings I need to attend because...sound trumpets....I'm getting interns, I'm getting more like 10 days (including weekend). I know to many of you this sounds like a great big bowl of whine and complain stew but damnit I need my days. I've been busy as hell between work, a new business venture (not ready to announce this one), and I'm still making cards and invitations and writing (yes, just because I'm not blogging doesn't mean I'm not writing). Again, not complaining because its either this life or none at all at the moment. I choose what's behind door number one. Thank you very much.

About a week and a half ago, I received a text message that read something like this: *

This will be the last text message you receive from me. You don't have time to talk or to even answer. I don't want to bother you anymore. Take care.

I read it as I was changing my purse that morning and thought: DAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMNNNN.
I thought for a minute and then responded:

Ummmm, I'm sorry you feel that way. But that's life. Take care of yourself as well.

The text message was from my high school ex-boyfriend's younger brother. A couple of months ago, he made a play for me and I promptly threw a flag on the field. He went back to being my pseudo-little brother and life returned to some semblance of normal. Or so I thought.

Now, I can't lie. Initially, his play for me weirded me out worse than Ron Artest errrr Metta World Peace's blonde hair art on Monday's Dancing With the Stars episode. It took me a minute to get back into the groove of our normal conversation. Eventually, I got over it and myself, and resumed our periodic text convo without any reservations. I thought, "Eh, I don't speak to him often. How difficult can this be?" Famous last words.

This boy (oops, I mean man. he's damn near 30 but I still picture him as a 10 year old asking me to help him with his homework when I came to see his brother but I digress). has the uncanny talent for texting me at the worst possible time. Seriously. I'm speaking during a meeting? Text. I'm out on a date? Text. I'm in my sub-basement training room where I have no phone reception for 4 hours and I'M WORKING? Text (along with the occassional followup "u there?' text). I'm in a bad mood and not answering anyone??? Text. Sometimes I remember to answer but others I don't. Quite frankly, he's not saying much. The convo is as predictable as a soap opera.

He: Hey. How are you?
Me: Heyyyy. I'm good. How are you?
He: Chillin. So what's good? How are you?
Me: Uhhhhhh didn't I just tell you I'm good? LOL (always gotta soften the blow of my sarcasm with an LOL)
He: true true. lol

End Scene.

Yeah that's it. So of course there were times that I didn't entertain this predictable banter. And I will neither confirm or deny that I copied and pasted a response or two. So when I got his tempter tantrum text, I had no previously typed response to copy and paste so I responded as I did. He then responds with sarcasm about how I responded to that message so quickly and blah blah blah, you're too busy. As I'm now sitting on the bus on my way to work, I felt like I was engaged in a battle of words with a 10 year old. I answered one last time - told him he was right to say I was busy. I'm busy living my life and living on MY schedule and not what works for his time frame. I stated once again that I was sorry he felt this way (clearly not an admission of guilt on my part) and I wished him well. He responsed to that message but as usual his timing was off and I was busy.

I'm not saddened or bothered by his decision. Just like his older brother, his time in my life clearly has passed. It's his pronouncement that seems soooooo.....juvenile. It reminds me of the time I told my mother I was running away from home, filled a garbage bag with all my clothes and toys, realizing it was too heavy for my 8 year old self to carry, and my mother calmly sitting on the sofa doing a crossword puzzle and stating " you better put everything back where you found it." We both knew I was acting on emotion just as I'm sure this guy's text message was laced with. maybe I was right all along to look at him as that 10 year old boy with the ketchup stained shirt, asking me to help him with his homework.

end scene.

Silence Stalker

My work schedule is crazy and most days I love it. I'm never in the same spot for longer than I have to be there to conduct my training. However, my schedule sometimes collects its toll like an EZ-Pass. I have no choice (at the moment) but to pay up, shut up, and keep it moving. I don't have an office. I feel like I'm constantly on the go so much that when I have my own personal errands to run my get up and go is giving me some serious side eye like "bitch please. it's my day off."

But there are moments, like this exact moment, that I live for. Silence. One of my training sites shuts down the room I use for training up to an hour before my class begins. I hustle from my morning site, pick up some semblance of healthy cuisine in the Bronx (another Debbie Downer in weighing the pros and cons of my job), navigate my way through the hustle and bustle of this commercial neighborhood and descend into my silent refuge aka my training room. What adds to the joy? I have no cell phone reception in the room whatsoever. AHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhh. (Am I the only person who relishes from time to time being off the grid, so to speak?)

As I sit here, I realize that there aren't too many silent moments in my life. I'm always in the hustle and bustle of the never quiet city. When I'm home, there's the million channels on cable that I must watch because I pay for them and there's my mother and all of her needs, and there is her cat that never ever leaves me alone so much that I've renamed her damn cat, Shadow. Maybe that's why I love this silence so much. Sitting here in a quiet room with the dull hum of some computer machinery, the murmur of a whoosh from the central air, and my click, click, click on the keyboard. That's it. Pure bliss.

Once I close that door, the outside world is no longer buzzing in my ear. I don't even want to hear the sound of my own voice - another side effect of talking all day for work purposes. Even in composing this blog, I feel like my voice in my head is on whisper -just audible enough to gather my thoughts in my head without intruding on my silent bliss.

I know I'm a walking contradiction. I have many friends. I'm always out and about. Not to beat the cliche like a Mike Tyson circa late 80s opponent, but I am a social butterfly. Don't get me wrong. I love that side of my life. But the balance of silence is missing. And I crave it like men crave the fall and its bosom buddy football. Now that I have it, I don't want to let it go. I feel like I'm stalking silence. Soooooo, how do I get more of this bliss?

I got next....I guess...

I guess I'll see you next lifetime.....

When this song came out in 1997 I had not an inkling how true it would ring in my lifetime.

I guess being single for as long as I've been, this was bound to happen. The odds for it not to happen are clearly not in my favor. It happens so often I feel like this song is on repeat loop in life's soundtrack.

I meet a nice guy. A down to earth, normal attractive guy. No swag on a full tank, not dripping swagu (hate Kanye for this term by the way). Normally for me, this is a somewhat quiet, laid back kind of guy with a mix of shy nerdiness sprinkled in for good measure. Maybe it's the shyness in him or maybe it's my seemingly outgoing personality but this guy may hint at possible interest but never follows through.

Him: "We should hang out sometime"
Me: "Okay. Cool"

Nothing.

Some time may pass before I see this guy again. But when I do, he's quite vocal with how he finds me attractive and blah blah blah. Now, something changed. He's more confident with his words and more direct with his eye contact. Not to the point of obnoxious arrogance but the volume is just a tad bit louder, enough to be noticeably undeniable.

So what's changed? Sigh.....
You need to know/I've got somebody, but/ You're beautiful.........

He's married or engaged or in a seriously committed monogamous relationship or any variation of the above. All in all, unavailable for me in this lifetime. As Badu says, "it ain't that kind of party nowww" so being the other woman, at this stage in my life is not attractive and is damn sure not an option I want for myself. So I guess I'll see him next lifetime as a few have suggested. The problem is unless there is more feline in my DNA that I would even consider, I don't have that many lifetimes to go around.

I'm always puzzled by this surge of confidence though. Where the hell did it come from? Most importantly, why NOW and not when you initially met me? I've heard some saying somewhere in my life travels that says something like "the love of a woman will make a man feel like he can conquer the world". Sooooooo if I'm to believe this to be true, does that mean that this said woman's love also gives you the confidence to tell another woman that you're attracted to her and "damn if only I wasn't blah blah blah...."??

The more I think about it, I believe it's a sub correlation to my "Nothing to Lose" theory. Initially this theory applies to the no teeth, colt 45 drinking, 10 baby momma fool that always finds you in the club and wants to holla at you "for a minute" (read: for the rest of the damn night). He knows he has a snowball's chance in hell with you and most likely already has baby momma #9 and #10 lined up for the evening but he likes to gamble. Hence, he has nothing to lose when he approaches you. Baby momma #9 and #10 are still going to entertain his foolishness whether you audition to be baby momma #11 or not. In a more refined manner, this shy guy now has nothing to lose as well. The possibility of my rejection does not affect his life at home. He's now afforded the luxury to drip a little swagu into our conversations without the bruise of the perceived rejection he assumed I would send his way.

What is clearly ironic or right out of a romantic comedy movie, most of these guys, if they would have mustered up enough swagu initially and asked me out on a date, I would have said yes. When it comes to dating, I'm pretty easygoing. A great conversation is all I need. I won't even mandate that you must feed me and I damn sure won't throw Michelin ratings in to prove that my bourgie ass knows how to eat well. It's a date, not a walk down the altar. Plain and simple. So what's the harm in asking me out before you find yourself in a relationship. I don't bite.......well, at least not on the first date.

Unfortunately, we'll never know what could have been. Unless we hit the reincarnation jackpot and get another chance next lifetime.

Baby we'll be butterflies.......

-- Sent from my Palm Prē

Hook

I have a blog written about how Irene (the recent hurricane)is a hater and how she completely destroyed my weekend plans but eh, I'm over it....kinda. Not really. I really wanted to curse her out but are we tired of talking about Irene and the mess she left behind - including my weekend plans?!

Late last night, a male acquaintance of mine asked me about a female friend of mine in the vein of "What's up with _______? Hook a brotha up!!!" After a slight pause, I had to say, "Nahhhhhh, I couldn't do that do you." and very vaguely told him why I wouldn't hook them up without giving him the specifics.

For the record, I'm not interested in dude. I actually know him through a long gone ex and he's always been cool with me. So don't think I want to stockpile him all to myself like those people on those hoarders shows. Also, I'm not a hater. As I told another girlfriend of mine, if he would have asked about any of my other single friends, I might have have told him to go for it. Personally, I hate hooking people up. As someone who has been hooked up, that shit doesn't work. It's always awkward and at some point, you wonder "what the hell was my friend thinking?" Then, inevitably the "Why didn't you tell me about ____________ (insert catastrophic baggage here)?!" Who needs the drama, the accusations, the awkwardness? Not me. Most times, I will tell someone "Hey, if you happen to meet them, then fine. But I'm not hooking anyone up." I don't like playing cupid because frankly Cupid's outfit ain't cute.


So why did I give the red light instead of the green light? Well here's the 1, 2, 3. First of all, I know he's not her type. She likes flash, glitz glamour and he likes a t-shirt and a fitted. She likes bottles popped; he likes beer bottles. She's a Louboutin. He's a Timberland. Don't think Beyonce and Jay-Z. Think video vixen du jour meets the mailman in his uniform. The only time their worlds mesh is when he is bringing her something she wants. Secondly, let's seee......how can I put this in the most diplomatic way possible???? Ummmmm.......damn Madeline Albright, I am not....sooooo let's just say she wants to lead the Glamorous Life (cue Sheila E.) and in the few conversations I've had with him, that's just not him at all. I may not be Miss Cleo or one Dionne Warwick's friends, but I could see this going horribly wrong and lil ole me would get the blame. Which leads me to my last point, I'd never hear the end of it. Years ago, it was my BFF, Tootiezilla's idea for me to give my ex my phone number. I listened to her and we all know what happened. Even all these years later, I remind her that all of his foolishness is her fault from time to time. Like now. LOL I wanna keep my very close to impeccable hookup record spotless. And this duo would have been a big ink stain on my angelic white dress. Not a good look.

After my vague veto explanation, he thanked me for my (vague) honesty and said he would admire her "fine ass" from afar. Whew! I'm off the hook. On the surface, it may look like I threw a friend under the bus but in actuality, I believe I pushed two people out of the way of a mack truck.

But, it has me wondering:

How many times as someone asked a friend about me in the "Hook a brotha up!" vein and they've responded, "Janelle? Nahhhh, I couldn't do that to you." ??? LOL

Lunch with a side of quake

While I flipped through New York Daily News this morning, I came across this picture:




I chuckled.


Not because I don't take the ground shaking underfoot without the rumble of a subway or the touch of the right man at the time in the right spot seriously. Oh trust and believe, it freaked me out and my first thought upon finding out was "oooohh, Momma Nature is not happy right now?" Actually that was my second thought. My first thought was "What?! Oh Shiiiiittttt!!!"

I chuckled because while this above scene played out with undoubtedly some panic and memories of the uncertainty of almost 10 years ago, I was sitting with an almost demolished chicken and spinach burrito, a mojito, and paperwork at one of my chill eateries, and most ironically, didn't feel a damn thing. For the record, I never indulge in an afternoon cocktail on a work day. But I was having a pretty intense day, had 3 hours to kill and when I walked into my favorite watering hole, one of my favorite bartenders was behind the bar and she makes a damn good mojito, sooo I called it fate and ordered one. And once again, she didn't disappoint.

To put this in perspective, the scene pictured above was less than 20 minutes away from where I was sitting and the only thing I felt was a fully belly and after drinking that mojito, a stronnnng need for a very large cup of Starbucks to get me through my evening training sessions. And to make matters even more comical (well at least in mind), my phone was charging behind the bar, and when the bartender told me my phone was blowing up like crazy, I told her, "Eh, ignore it. I'm out to lunch.", completely oblivious to what was going on in the world around me. Of course by the time I finished my meal and afternoon cocktail, paid my bill and collected my phone, I had not a hint of phone service when I tried to return all of my missed calls.

Upon hearing that there was an earthquake in Virginia, I reached out to people I know there to make sure they were okay. I still didn't know anything about its effect here in New York until I arrived at my training site (armed with my caffeine fix). Apparently, the building had been evacuated as a precaution. Some of my training clients told me they felt it. The entire time I'm wondering, "Where the hell was I?!" This felt like some kinda Alice in Wonderland slipping down the rabbit hole experience, only I was completely and utterly oblivious to what was going on. I spent the day exactly as I wanted - had a damn good lunch with a damn good cocktail, ran a couple of errands, and apparently walked on shaky ground without even knowing it. Talk about a day. Ah well, I at least I had a damn good mojito.

Microphone Check

*taps mic* Hello, is this thing on?????


I've been gone for a minute but unlike Lil Kim Konnichiwa I'm not back with the jump off. For the record, I've attempted to write 2 blogs in the last week or so and blogger has smacked me around like a 2 bit ho for abandoning my blogging corner by erasing my words. One entry, I cried when it disappeared. It was a entry about my mom waking up from a coma a year ago on August 8. I poured everything into that entry and to see it disappear with a click of a mouse and never to return again was heartbreaking. The other entry?? Well, I took it as a sign from Sweet Baby Jesus above that I had noooooooo damn business writing that angry black woman diatribe in the first place. Moving on....


For the legions of you who still check my site, first thank you for continuing to come and check on me. Secondly, in case you've been wondering, I've been working. My new job has me out in the field Monday - Thursday. I never realized how much I miss an office until I realize I don't have a computer to log into or blog on in my downtime. Maybe I should think about getting an iPad or the HP Touchpad?? Or maybe my legions of fans will chip in and buy me one?? Noo?? Really????!!! Okay. Sigh..... Moving on. (Sidebar: I just read the news about HP abandoning the Touchpad, my beloved Pre telephone, and the entire WebOS operating system. Bastards. Oh well, guess I'll be a reluctant iPad groupie...sigh. And I have no clue what the fuck I'm gonna do about a phone. Thanks HP. If Carrie B wasn't an HP I would curse you to burn in hell for getting me all hype for nothing. Oh well...moving on.....)


I work with senior citizens. And let me tell you, there are many days when I feel like I am back teaching in public school. I broke up an argument that had all the potential to turn into a physical fight the other day. Two older women in my class got into an argument over personal space and the use of a computer than one claimed was hers (ummm like my mom used to tell me "None of this is yours. Its all mine. You didn't pay for it." LOL). Tempers flared and next thing I knew, I'm standing between them, yelling at them to "CUT IT OUT!!" with threats of "I'ma kick yo ass!" flying through the air above my head. Looking back, it was quite comical. One old lady could barely walk so I don't know whose ass she was going to kick. The other, as quiet as she normally is, actually looked like she might be able to take the other one as she said in her thick Puerto Rican accent, "Jooo don't know what I capable of." If I would have seen this on a sitcom, I probably would have laughed until I damn near cried but unfortunately, this was real life and there wasn't anything funny about it.....well not until I walked out the building. Then, I laughed my ass off. Tears rolling down my face laughter. In relaying the story to friends, in between the shock followed by howls of laughter, everyone wanted to see a video of this Granny Smackdown. Thankfully, none of the senior citizens have smartphones to record said outburst and they all think you tube is an ointment. So alas, there is no such video of the tomfoolery.

I'm pretty sure many of you are wondering about my dating life. Especially since I've devoted so many pages upon pages on this site to tales of my dating highs and lows. Eh.....yeah that about sums it up. I guess I'll go into detail soon enough but "Eh....." is about right. At least for right now.

I'm finding a rhythm again. I'm making time for writing again. So that's my start....again. Thanks for stopping by and reading. Next blog won't take as long for me to post. If I drag my feet with the next post, you have permission to kick my ass like the old folks. Jooo don't know what I'm capable of. At least not yet. :)

Small Fry Said it With His Chest

Blogging hasn't been my forte lately for reasons as varied as the accents I hear walking the New York City streets. Too personal. Too painful. Too boring. Fear of hurting someone's feelings (readership is a blessing and a curse). But over the last couple of days, I realize that 1)some aren't worried about hurting my feelings; 2) pain will remain painful until I release and heal; and 3) what may be boring to me others may find amusing so stop be an assclown. And so here I am, writing. Again.


Also, I've been dating again. I've been feeling like I'd hit a dating slump (doing the same things with the same people without any change) and summer is the perfect season to cure the slump. I met someone recently and after our first date I already knew what his blog name would be. But today's blog is not about him. Still figuring that one out (in a good way).



Most summer nights in the city, you never know where you will end up. You could leave work and end up at a rooftop cocktail party or by happenstance wander into a street fair while running errands. That's one of the things I love about living in New York during the summer.


This past Friday night, after an emotionally brutal day, I stopped by a liquor tasting at my favorite wine store in Harlem. After buying a bottle, my friend and I wandered over to a happy hour (don't judge me). We sat at the bar and were instantly embraced by the other patrons at like this was Cheers. To our right, there was a group of women who insisted we take a whipped cream vodka shot. We happily obliged their recommendation and chatted it up with them. Before the evening got too hazy (again, don't judge me damnit), I recall thinking how refreshing it was to have women treat each other as equals and not give the stank face up upon arrival and throughout the night. To our left, there was a gentlemen who started chatting my friend and I up almost immediately. He was nice and friendly so we welcomed his conversation.


Truth be told, I swore he was interested in my friend. She was sitting closer to him, he occasionally touched her arm and smiled. All the markers of flirting in my book. Clearly, I need to rewrite this book because the minute my friend stepped outside, he moved in on me like immigration on a sweatshop. From the group conversation, I'd learned that he's in his early 40s, has a son in his even earlier 20s, and is from Harlem as well. Overall, a cool dude. Except for onnnnnnnnneee thing. He reminds me of the comedian, Kevin Hart. In looks and in stature. Those of you are not familiar with the comedian and his vertical challenge, he's not as short as Danny Devito but for a man, he's average women's height.

Eventually, he moves in for the kill and asks for my phone number. Now, I have flip flops on and I can look him straight in the eye. For those of you who know me, KNOW I LOVVVVVVVVVE A TALL MAN. I believe I even wrote about it on here once. So here I was, faced with a superficial but real challenge. Dude was nice, funny, attentive, seemingly good conversationalist. What more should I want from a potential date. And truth be told, IT'S JUST A DATE. Not committed relationship, not meeting the parents, no meet me at the altar - A DATE. So I gave the Kevin Hart doppelganger my phone number (because he said it with his chest...hahahahaha....gotta know Kevin Hart's routine to get this joke)

And you know what? My superficiality should have won this debate.

He still seems like a nice guy but all the "honey" "baby" "beautiful" "sweetie"nicknames are rubbing me the wrong way. I mean, we haven't even gone out and he's already giving me all these cutesy-coo nicknames?? What the deuce?? That rubs me worst than thigh friction on a hot summer day. And the text messages? Gag me with a teaspoon. The sugary sweetness radiating from my phone is about to put me in a diabetic coma.

I know some may say "Look, be happy you have a man giving you some attention." or the ever popular "See? A man is showing you some love and you can't appreciate it." But look, today is Monday (err.......Wednesday. I started this blog on Monday...lol) and I've been called honey, baby, etc more than 20 times and I just met this dude on Friday (yes I counted all the references in text messages. I'm thorough, ya dig?! lol). It feels fake. It's like that horrible aftertaste that artificial sweetners leave behind. And there is a part of me that feels like its probably easier for him to call me all these cutesy-coo names so he doesn't have to remember my mother-given name.

And the ultimate deal breaker? I met him on Friday, and he invited me to "come over and watch TV" with him on Sunday. What? This must be a sign of my maturity because 10-15 years ago that may not have been a problem (especially if I was feeling the guy...young and dumb, I know). But now? I'm all about the Law & Order consequences of such a scenario. I can see my friends telling Benson & Stabler about when they saw me last and how he's such a small man and didn't seem like a viable threat. No thanks. I don't want to be that cold body on the street as the theme song plays. Call me crazy but I need to been seen out in public with you at least once before I cross your threshold. Or maybe that invitation coupled with the saccharine sweet nicknames has me raising up all kinds of guards against small fry. Whatever the case may be, the Kevin Hart look a like and I may have seen eye to eye sitting side by side at the bar on Friday, but we damn sure don't see eye to eye on dating.

Brother's Keeper

A couple of years ago, I wrote about a former love who had resurfaced in my life in a rather unexpected way. Months later, I wrote about how he had to exit stage right out of my life because of a woman reaching out to me. Throughout all of this, I've kept in touch with his family still. The former flame lives far away and his family is still here in New York. I don't think they know what happened between us because like me, he's an extremely private person. They've still asked me from time to time why we didn't make from way back in high school. My response is always 'Ask your brother."

Out of all of my former flame's relatives, his younger brother keeps in touch the most. He'll call or mostly text, just to see how I'm doing or to ask my opinion on something. I always looked at him as a kid in a little brother kind of way (well, if I grew up with my own younger siblings, I might have already known what that feels like but I digress). I remember tutoring him when he was a kid and how he always wanted to tag along when he brother and I would hang out. So when he reaches out now, I still respond in a sisterly type of way. Our conversations are normally short and superficial. "Hello" "How are you?" "How's so and so?" Do you remember when blah blah blah?" That is until he recently asked me out. Like on a date.

That evening's text conversation, started off with the usual pleasantries. Then he asked "can I ask you a question?" to which I responded "uhhhhhhhh sure." When someone utters those 8 words, all I can think is "Ohhhhhhh shit! What truth/half-truth/spin-doctored answer am I going to have to come up with?" I hate the question because until the actual question the person wants answered is asked, you spend those precious seconds racking your brain trying to figure it out before they ask.

"Why aren't you married?"

Now, if there is ever a question I hate it is that one right there. There are many reasons why I'm single: loved the wrong men, wasn't ready, haven't been inspired, unsure on marriage ideals as a whole for me, wasn't a priority......the list goes on and on. But what I hate about that question is that the implication implies there's something wrong with me. Or at least that's what I infer from the question. Whenever, I get this question I like to respond with a little bit of humor. So I responded with:

"I don't know. Ask your brother. LOL (just jokes)"

Quite frankly, I wasn't about to get all introspective via text with someone I only have superficial conversations with. I expected his reply to be an "LOL" with a topic change. Oh boy was I wrong. This boy went INNNNNNNNN:

"U SERIOUS? That's the past. How long has it been? My brother is dumb. I could of been wit u. I like you alot. I could be ur husband. We should go out."

"Uhhhh say what now??? Dude, are YOU serious??"

First of all, I dated his brother. So what, it was back in high school. His brother wasn't just one of those random I like you, you like me dudes in my life. I LOVVVVVVVVED his brother. For many many years, up until this recent incident with his woman reaching out to me, his brother was the guy I compared every guy to. He was the guy I would wonder how my life would be different if we'd stayed together (realistically, who stays with their high school sweetheart but I digress). Even though I can't stand that he lept off my pedestal and became a common asshole like some of the others, there is still a teeeny tiny minuscule part of me that still loves him and I probably always will. Actually, that's not quite right. I care for him. I wouldn't use the word love to express my feelings for him. Not anymore. Wow....that just hit me. Anyway, entertaining the idea of dating his baby brother felt........gross.

Second of all.....wait.....I don't need a damn second point. That's it. Even though we're not together, my former boyfriend's family has always been a weird extension of family to me. Kind of like the family you see at family reunions. You know you're connected some way, some how. But you don't keep up with the minutiae of their lives, nor do you care to. You keep it pleasant and most of all, you keep it moving.

So how do I respond to the baby brother? I don't want to hurt his feelings but I wanted him to know that what he was proposing was NAYYYYVER going to happen unless we start ice fishing in hell and even then his chances are slimmer than Anthony Weiner getting a Fruit of the Loom endorsement deal.

I responded that he and I could never be, partly because of his brother but mostly because I've always looked at him as a younger brother. The younger brother that I used to tutor after school and walk to McDonald's when no one else in the house wanted to. I told him that I was flattered that he thought so highly of me but that he'd be better off finding someone his own age (did I fail to mention that baby brother is 7 years younger than I?) and who didn't have history with anyone in his family. I hit send and held my breath, silently freaking out.

"I don't know but ok. I'll leave it alone. Im done....my brother is still dumb though. "

I didn't respond. There was nothing left for me to say.
I didn't hear from him for a while until recently. He sent a text:

Heyyyyy. What's good with you, sis?

Even if he didn't mean it, I felt like all was right in the world.

A Dime a Dozen

On Monday, I skimmed through the "news"feed on the book of face when a post caught my eye. A woman I went to college with wrote a note entitled "Is Being Pretty a Blessing and a Curse?"


For some background story, yes, she is a pretty woman (not in the Julia Roberts hooker-Cinderella kind of way). I know her from college and if I remember correctly she was our school's beauty queen representative during one of our years as students there. I didn't really know her, "know" her then but thanks to the book of face I know more about her now than I did then. She's a divorced mother of 2. But to give credit where credit is due, she is still pretty and appears to be in great shape.


In her note, she pondered whether pretty girls have a tougher time in relationships than say average ones. According to her , men, good men, perceived "dimes" as narcissistic, selfish and drama-driven and instead choose average less attractive women to settle down with to avoid these behaviors. (Sidebar: are we still using "dime" and its relative, "dimepiece" to describe the attractive qualities of women?) She notes that because these good men choose the Plain Jane, no where near a dime, can't hold a candle to me, blah-worthy women, all that is left for the "dimes" are selfish men with few morals and values. Well damn. (insert Love Jones voice here)


She further went on to use celebrity "dimes" who've publicly had failed relationships or less than stellar dating lives or more audaciously, have settled with non-dimes as proof positive that her theory is true. (Sidebar: After this post, I hope I NAYVER use this damn word again unless I'm speaking of US currency but I digress). She turned her lense to her and her friends who are all single, "pretty dimes", and can't find dime-worthy men as anecdotal proof of her blessing and curse theory.


As you can imagine this post sparked a wave of comment and debate over the validity of her claims (which as of this morning it appears that she has since deleted all comments and also edited her original post as there is a memorable anecdote from the first read that is no longer there). I quickly skimmed the comments and shut down the book of face so I can get on with the rest of my day. But her note has been on my mind ever since.

I don't want to discredit how she feels because we are all entitled to how we feel. However, this line of thinking comes across as shallow and narcissistic (something she admits she's been called since college). While her focus on appearance is crystal clear, her thinking is a little muddled. She mentioned that her ex, "a dime", wasn't faithful because he's a dime and eventually couldn't resist the temptation. Huh??? Look, I've been cheated on by men that no one would call "a dime". (Real talk: I would never call a man a "dime". Fine? Yes. Sexy? Yes! But dime? Hell no! But again, I digress.) I say that to say that regardless of outward appearance, if a person wants to cheat, guess what's gonna happen? Somebody's rockin', knockin' the boots. (oh she can use dime but I can't quote a line from a song from the nineties??) I'll concede that maybe the attention he received from these other women may have fed his ego a little too much and gave him a false sense of booty entitlement. Or maybe, he was no longer interested in being married and wanted to live the days of his bachelor years. I have no idea. But to equate his infidelity to his "dime" status is her "dime" ego speaking. As in, "as fine as I am, there is no other reason why this man would cheat on me".

I hate to be the one with the pin to this bubble but, POP, this shit just doesn't fly. First of all, life happens. Weight happens. Disfigurement happens. Shit happens. Looks come and go. They fade to black like the end of a movie for numerous reasons. What may start of as a dime, may not always be that way. And if you fall for this person based solely on their dime status and heaven forbid something happens, you may find yourself looking at the front door. Chicka boom boom boom.

Secondly, what the hell is wrong with being "average" in the looks department?? Beauty is a genetic lottery, luck of the draw. While we have control over how we maintain ourselves, unless you're signing up for the deluxe total revamp, look nothing like you're driver's license plastic surgery package, you can't control what you were born with. Just because someone is born with the genetic jackpot in the looks department does not entitle them to someone who equally hit said jackpot. Why is an average looking person completely out of the question? Because you're too pretty for them? Because they are beneath your rigid standard of beauty? I'm talking average run of the mill attractive not someone who was less fortunate in the beauty crapshoot like say, Flavor Flav. But truth be told, that man has a whole tribe of kids so someone was loving his ass. Repeatedly. Yeah Boy!!

I can't help but wonder how many average good hearted, kind, God-fearing guys my schoolmate has overlooked because they didn't pass the initial Prince Charming stud evaluation. I also wonder why are a person's looks sooo important to her that her ideal sole mate MUST be a so-called dime to the point where average doesn't even get a second glance. Does she realize how unattractive that may make her to one of these dimes she's seeking?

I'm not saying that someone should lower their standards. Maybe a reevaluation of what truly is important to them. Step down off that high horse. Dismount off that pedestal. Land on terra firma where the air is clear and expectations are realistic. A place where nothing about your outside appearance ever feels like a curse.

Defining Success, Defining Me

Define what success means to you, then do it. - Ralph Marston

This quote appeared in my timeline on Twitter early Saturday morning. Ever since, the words have danced across my mind in a melody that plays over and over. Not in an annoying way like half of the crap that comes on the radio these days. More like a harmonized dance in my brain. Like the thought was supposed to be there all along but just found its beat. The idea of success intrigues me. I mean, who doesn't want to be successful? (cue Drake....actually, don't)But I realized, when faced with the task of putting together a string of words, strung together to have meaning to me, I'm stuck. What the deuce is MY definition of success???

For some, success means the cars, the house, the Louis bag, and all the accoutrements that we're led to believe are the meaning of success. Well, I could really care less about a car unless it drives, is clean, and has 4 doors - regardless make, model, or appearance in a music video. While owning a home is supposed to be the apex of the American Dream, it screams MONEY PIT NIGHTMARE to me -not my idea of success. And the Louis bag....shit, who am I kidding. I'll take it. But is that success??

I know some who would define success by hubby, 2.5 kids, dog and picket fence. I'm allergic to dogs, and don't have any of the other stuff, but does that mean that success is not for me? Is success climbing the corporate ladder?? Eh...what happens once you reach the top of the ladder?? Do you hang on in the same spot? Do you let go and fall? Either option doesn't sound like success to me.

I'm supposed to have the answers at this point in my life. But I don't. I'm supposed to have carved a path and be content on the journey, right?? But where does success fall on this journey?? Is success the destination or just a bump in the road??

Sure I want the hubby, the kids (yes, I actually do) but what if it doesn't happen. Does that make me unsuccessful, a failure? Could this be the root of my lack of definition? The fear of failure?

When I close my eyes and think about success, I see myself smiling. I'm happy. I'm at peace. I'm loved. That's how I see success. But how do I get there or what brings me to that point? I'm not so sure. But I'm willing to take the journey, no matter where it takes me as long as the end result brings me what I see when I close my eyes.

I guess that's my definition of success. Well, at least a working one. For now. Subject to change like a new melody dancing across my mind.

Navigation

Why doesn't life come with a GPS navigation system?

Even if that little voice is annoying as hell, it still guides you in the right direction. It tells how where to go, how to get there, and how long it will take. Perrrrrrrrfect.

When you make a wrong turn, instead of shouting at you "I said TURN RIGHT, asshole." the little voice pauses and says "recalculating" and, within seconds, puts you right back on track (rather smugly I might add but still). (Sidebar: Wouldn't it be funny if that little voice really did berate you just a little for making a wrong turn?!)

There are periods in my life where I desperately wish I could just type in my destination, then sit back and enjoy the ride. Let the GPS worry about traffic and roadblocks and obstacles. This is one of those times.

Business for Mother's Day was beyond incredible. I far exceeded my order projections and made a nice little piece of change in the process. But the stress? Oy vey, the stress seemed insurmountable. I lived, breathed, slept (barely) card orders. I found glitter in places that if I were in a relationship, I would have to explain how it got there without a wad of cash in my purse. Simply put, it consumed my life. And quite frankly, I'm not used to ANYTHING consuming every facet of my life. Granted, it was just the distraction I needed but I digress.

So is chasing a dream supposed to consume you? What about your other dreams? Where do they go in the meantime? Will every little step I take from here on out have to be consulted with this new business venture? I've always prided myself with the innate ability to compartmentalize everything in my life. Relationships and emotions go here, work goes here, family goes here, the family I can't stand they go wayyyyy over there. Nicely folded and neatly organized, very rarely crossing barriers (why can't this system work for my closet though? LOL). But lately, it seems that my system is failing me. I panic a little and wonder if stepping out on my own is really the best idea for me.

With a GPS system, I can ask for directions to Happy Lane at the intersection of Success Avenue and Love Boulevard, and happily sit back to enjoy the ride. Without the panic, without the fear, without the uncertainty, and definitely without the obstacles. Sure, tell me to enjoy the journey bumps and all. Blah, blah, blah. Can't a butterfly just arrive at a peaceful place unscathed just once in my life?

No? Really??? Okay, fine. Back on my grind. Destination: Learn the lessons on the journey because it's the lessons that make the reward that much sweeter in the end. I get it. I get it. Now make a right, asshole. I have places to go.

You Don't Have to Call.....

Thursday night, I went out after work. Usually, my schedule has me dead to the wall tired by the end of the day but I avowed I was going out before I left the house that morning. Take a break from these Mother's Day card orders I'm working on any chance I get. I also felt like I needed an emotional hiatus, leave feelings behind for a few hours and just have fun.

First, I met up with a friend at a local restaurant for happy hour. We sat down at the bar and immediately recognized the bartender as a semi-famous personality from reality TV (lonnnnng before reality TV became this fake reality many of us get sucked into week after week; she's from an era when it was "real"). Through conversation for the duration of the evening, she confirmed her identity and we immediately answered simultaneously "Oh yeah, we know!" causing all three of us to laugh out loud literally. She's cool as shit and makes a mean cocktail so naturally we stayed longer than either of us intended. Good times indeed. And like Arnold, "I'll be back!" (corny I know but its the truth damn it!! lol)

After happy hours (yes, hours), I happily tipsily dashed home, changed clothes (cue Jay), freshened my makeup, and hit the streets in less than 20 minutes (my personal best). I headed downtown to meet another friend who was already partying at a popular after work spot. By the time I arrived and walked through the heavy curtains, the ties were a little loose, the cocktails were flowing, party was in full swing.

As I searched the room for my friends, a guy approached me. The first of 3 for the night. No need for blog names for any of them because I seriously doubt I will hear from any of them. Yes, I gave each of them my contact info. They each were attractive and witty and in my book that will at least get you a coffee date. One by one throughout the night, I was approached quite differently but the message was the same: "I neeeeeed to get to know you better." While their approaches were different, one factor was the same with each and every one of them. After the formalities - "what's your name?", "where do you live?"; "are you married?" - each guy in his own vernacular uttered "Here's my number. Call me so we can get together. "

Huh? What???!!!

Soooo let me get this straight. YOU approached ME, spent all of 5 maybe 20 minutes chatting with me, and I'm supposed to chase after you by calling so YOU can take ME out on a date?????? Am I missing something here???

In my dating life, in all of the years I've been dating (if I stop to count now, I'll really be depressed so lets just say I've been dating for a while), I've NAYVER made the first call. EVER. So why on this night did 3 different dudes, who (from what I can tell) did not know each other, expect me to call them first? Is this some new phenomenon on the dating scene?? Dude number 2 actually looked stunned, like I threw the drink he just paid for in his face, when I responded, "Well here's my number. If you'd like to see me again, you'll call." The last dude was semi passive aggressive in his approach by asking for my phone and proceeding to call my his number from my phone. Then he tells me "Save my number in case you decide to call me or so you know who's calling you. " Say what now???

It's not like I haven't been dating in the past 4 years but I must admit my attention to dating has been lazy during this time. And it seems while my attention to details has gotten lazy, dudes have gotten lazy in their attention to courting as well. But now that it seems the tide has changed, do I - clutch the pearls - buck what I know in my heart is right and call these clowns or do I wait, patiently wait, for the right man to be man enough to cut the crap and dial my lovely 10 digits?

For now, I think I'll bank on patience. Sigh.....
In the meantime, I'll dance.

Invisble Butterfly

I like Grey's Anatomy. But damn, I hate this scene. I've always hated this scene. I feel like Meredith betrayed me. How could she stand there and plead, beg even, for this man to pick her, choose her, love her. And guess what?! He didn't (Well, at the time he didn't. Those who watch the show, even in passing, know he did pick her, choose her, love her but that came about a season later and even then they couldn't get it right for another couple of seasons). I remember watching it and thinking "Girl, where is your pride? Your self respect? Sheesh, can you please go back out and find them both?" Recently, I've seen this scene used in promos for watching old episodes in syndication. Oy vey, the humiliation goes on and on. Mildly put, this scene makes me more uncomfortable than my annual GYN checkup.

Then life stepped in. And forced me to look at it differently. Sigh. I hate to even admit that. Meredith is putting her bid in, throwing her hat in the ring. Pride and self respect be damned. All in the name of love. No one wants to be the fat kid, the last one standing because no one wants you on their team in gym class. So you have to be your own cheerleader and PR team. Market the hell out of yourself. Immortalize your shit. And then on top of it all, just state your feelings. Bare your soul. Make yourself as vulnerable as humanly, emotionally possible. All things I have fought against my whole life. But what has it got me?? Keeping my feelings pent up has gotten me absofuckinlutely nothing. And I have no one to blame but the butterfly in the mirror.

What's worse than not being chosen? Not even being considered in the first place. It's like the gym teacher telling the fat kid to sit down before the teams are chosen and to keep score instead to spare their feelings. But guess what? Their feelings aren't spared. It hurts worse. Sparing them the act of being considered, the fat kid becomes invisible. If you’re considered but subsequently rejected, you know why. It may not seem fair, but there’s a tangible reason. But when you’re not even considered as an option, you’re invisible. Nothing about you matters - you, your feelings, nothing. You're a walking virtual stranger to that person - a bum on the street, a fat kid riding the bench. You live, you breathe, you feel but none of that matters to the person that matters to you. Unless........you jump up and down and yell PICK ME. CHOOSE ME. LOVE ME. Is this really how it works?? Risk vulnerability to be considered and possibly, chosen??

Thanks Meredith for the lesson. I get it now. Still hate it, but I get it. sigh........

Rude Distraction

Sooooooooo remember that grumpy geezer I spoke of in my last post?? The one flashing his pearly dentures my way after I put him in his place? Well, here's a snippet of an email he sent to me today:

Keep it simple stupid

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Say what now??!!!

Okay, I guess I need to explain. During my training class one of the exercises involved sending an email to my work account. Obviously, I couldn't check it while I'm in the midst of a training class. I waited until I parked my behind and my chic but not quite practical tote bag full of training materials on the train on the way to training site number 2 before I read my emails(sidebar: that sentence has a lot of train in it....feels trainy. LOL). I decided to read everyone's emails before I responded to them. And there it was. My first job related insult on this job. On day 2, week 1.

To say I was floored is like saying the Trumpster won't ever be president of the US. No need to state the obvious. And yes, this is coming from one of "the blacks". But I digress. I re-read the email with my jaw firmly planted on the floorboard of the 4 train. As I passed Yankee Stadium, a fly ball could have landed right in my mouth. Pause. Major pause. What the deuce was I supposed to say to the grumpy geezer? Luckily, my stop was next because I wanted to tell him:

I'll keep it really simple when I knock those dentures out your mouth. Don't ever disrespect me. Oh, and polydent these nuts, beeeyotch!

Or something like that. Yeah right...hahahahahahaa. Quite frankly in my recent emotional state, I'm kinda shocked I didn't. How dare this man insult me when I'm helping his ass?? And via email?? Leave a note on my desk. Scribble it across the white board. Make it the screensaver on my computer. Spray paint it on my tote bag. But send an email from your email address that I have on record?! Smart. Reallllllllllly smart.

Once I got to my second training site, I sat down to one of the computers in my classroom. Still fuming but laughing. On my walk to the center, I started laughing. Out loud. The ridiculousity of it all was quite amusing. Here was this old ass man behaving like a wayward 5 year old. Didn't I tell you adults are children with bigger clothes and bank accounts? I'm pretty sure laughing while I walked down the street in the middle of the day may have looked odd. Wait, what am I talking about? I was in the Bronx. I blended right in.

I decided to be the grown up in the situation. And yes, I kept it simple. I forwarded the email to my boss and asked what our policy was in dealing with such offensive behavior in our training class. I can't wait to see what the outcome will be. Whether he stays or whether he gets the boot, I'm prepared either way.

You know....Maybe I should thank the grumpy geezer. After all, this has been a nice, albeit brief, distraction from other....stuff. How do you thank someone for being rude and quite frankly stupid but who made you laugh in spite of it all??

Hmmmm, I think I saw a coupon for Polydent in Sunday's paper.

Yet another new phase....

By the time most of you read this, I'll be at work. For the 2nd day this week. Yes, you read that correctly, the Resident Butterfly, yours truly, has a j-o-b. Well a piece of a j-o-b but it's mine, all mine. It's part time. Initially, I thought about turning it down but that thought lasted for all of 2.5 seconds. I'm officially a trainer for a nonprofit with 2 locations for which I provide training services for. I've wanted to be a trainer ever since I left the Bored of Miseducation but for some reason, former speech teacher wasn't resonating with those who held the keys to the jobs I wanted. I was told once that they didn't think I had enough experience with adults to be a trainer. * blank stare* Ummmmmm adults are just children with bigger clothes and bank accounts sooooo ummmm hire me!! lol And finally, just by having a random conversation with a fellow HS alumnae association exec, the door to this job opened for me. It really is about who you know and not so much what you know these days. I would have never heard of this nonprofit agency if not for this random small talk conversation which led to an email introduction with led to an informational meeting (also known as "we can't hire you but sure we'll answer your questions) which led to a "hey we have a job opening; you want it?" email a few weeks later. Which reminds me I need to send my fellow board member a thank you card (with a Starbucks gift card of course). First day at work was rough!! Can you believe I overslept? On the first freaking day?! Oh the humanity. Thankfully, this only put me 10 minutes behind schedule which got me to my first site 20 minutes before class instead of the 30 minutes like I wanted. But once I got rolling, I loved it. The people who take my classes so far are wonderful. Well with the exception of one but I put that grumpy geezer in his place QUICKLY and eventually he saw things my way. He even smiled his pearly dentures in my direction by the end of his class. Yay! I came up with a list recently right before my birthday (sheesh that was over a month ago and I still haven't written about my birthday adventure *hangs wings in shame*).It's a list of 35 things I want to accomplish in the year that I am 35. I can't believe I actually put my age out here on the blog. I still can't believe I'm 35. But hey, I'll take it because it damn sure beats the alternative. Anyway, one of the goals was figure out my career goals and pursue them (outside of launching a business which is also on the list. Hmmmmm, maybe I should post the list.) While this may only be day 2 of this new phase in my life, I can't help but feel somewhat giddy as I put a check next to its place on the list. My life may not be perfect and this journey has been filled with heartbreak and hardships but its moments like this, as I start a new phase, that somehow it makes it all worth it.

Sigh

Doubt thou the stars are fire

Doubt that the sun doth move

Doubt truth to be a liar,

But never doubt that I love

(~William Shakespeare

Hamlet, Act 2 )

People say I'm the life of the party

'Cause I tell a joke or two

Although I might be laughing loud and hearty

Deep inside I'm blue

(~Smokey Robinson, Tracks of My Tears)

Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements

Even if it leads nowhere?

(~Adele, Chasing Pavements)

Exactly how I feel.

One tear suspended indefinitely. One tear filled with all the emotions in my heart.

Don't ask. I'm not telling. Just know.

End of an era. Beginning of another I guess. Sigh.....

(~Me, right here, right now)

Announcement....

I'm launching a business.

Whewwwwwwww Lawwwwd!!! I said it out loud. Publicly. There it is. No turning back now. Four words that are changing my life.

Writing will always be my first one true love. This new venture was born from that love. And just like parents who enjoy watching their baby take their first steps, I am reveling in the steps that I'm taking. I, however, don't like the paperwork. Good grief, Charlie Brown!! My business plan, incorporating my business name, trademarking said name, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.Trying to do this as legitimately as possible is not an easy feat. It's hard out here for an entrepreneuress.

So what's the business?? I can't tell you the name of the business until all my paperwork is finalized (but I know when you finally see it you will smile and say to yourself, "OF COURSE!!"). I can tell you that the biz is two-fold. One arm is a custom designed greeting cards and event stationery line (invitations, announcements, save the dates, etc). If we are friends, and I actually have your address beyond the gmail/aol/yahoo variety, you've received one of my custom designed Christmas cards. I've been sending them out to my loved ones and have gotten so much positive feedback that I decided to actually sell cards this year. I sold Valentine's Day cards as a first attempt. And let me tell you - a lot of folks are in love or, at the very least, lust. I made a nice pile of change that came in very handy in Mexico a few weeks later. I just finished my Mother's Day samples today. Maybe I will post the samples here as well. Would that be crossing my two worlds?? Hmmm, something to think about.

The second arm of my business is something people have been telling me to do for years. My mom, my friends the beautiful gems, people I meet at social gatherings, my Guy Guru and his wife have all been telling me. Even my 13 year old goddaughter told me THREE years ago "You should work for yourself and plan events." I've planned parties, dinners and social gatherings for quite some time but I've always done it out of fun and necessity. So here I am stepping out on faith and creativity. And I can't front, I'm scurrrrrrrrrrrrrred ya'll, but I'm more afraid of never taking this time to fly on the wings of my dreams.

So there you have it. Out loud. Publicly. No turning back now. Four hundred and eight words that are changing my life. Wish me luck.

Turn to the Heart

Last week, a dear friend sent me an email asking for advice. As I sat on the train composing my ever so long response, I said to myself "Oh this feels like a blog". I wasn't talking about what I wrote to her, it was the writing process itself. It felt....good. If I knew how to ride a bike, I'd imagine that's what getting back on a bike must feel like. (Yes, I don't know how to ride a bike. I know. I've heard it all. Its crazy and no, I'm not all that inclined to learn at this stage in my life either...well, maybe a little inclined.)

When I wrote my last post, it was ever intended to be a hiatus post. Life just happened to point me in a hiatus direction. Truth be told (where else am I going to tell it), l was depressed. Not suicidal depressed. Not looking all melancholy and heavily medicated like those damn Cymbalta commercials. Just feeling off kilter. The unemployment, the ups and downs of caring for my mom (she's good by the way, but diabetes and kidney disease is a scary roller coaster ride), feelings of unfullfillment, non-supportive family shit. They all began to catch up to me like a car chase on a highway. I couldn't avoid it. All I could do was brace for it. Unfortunately, writing became a casualty. And I began to think and feel that nothing I had to say was worthy or important. Writing was in traction.

I wasn't feeling it. Not that I haven't had a lot going on in my life. Trust, I've been out living life. I rode the subway sans pants with an improv group. I saw Prince in concert for . I told dude from the last post to kick rocks. I went to Mexico for a much needed vacay for my birthday. Just to name a few (and possible blog posts). But the introspection it takes to write from my heart led me down dark paths I just wasn't prepared to venture on. So I shut down that part of me. Temporarily. At first, I felt guilty. I was letting down my legions of fans ( Kanye numbers with a Charlie Sheen ego). Blogging is a commitment. And I'm failing miserably at commitment these days. Oy vey the guilt! Then, rationalization set in. I began to rationalize my blog absence and fill possible writing time with anything but writing - watching TV, talking on phone, going out, watching tv, watching TV, watching TV, oh and reading too. Lots and lots of reading (I'm not even trying to be funny...I'm serious about the reading and the TV watching....reality TV is the devil! LOL).

A couple of weeks ago, I started feeling nostalgic. I miss writing. I miss the intimacy of being vulnerable with words. I miss the community ( I wasn't reading blogs when I wasn't writing - too painful if that makes sense). The self imposed depressive silence was lifting. My heart was beating. I was beginning to feel like me again. But then the panic set in. Where the fuck do I begin?? Do I pick up where I left off? No, I don't want to blog about that assclown again - once was enough. Do I start from the now as if I never left?? Nooooo, there are actually things that have happened since my last post that I'd like the opportunity to write about. So I took to Twitter. Asked my followers "Where do I begin?" (sidebar: I hate the term 'followers' for Twitter. I ain't Jesus. He has followers. And Charlie Manson. He had followers too. I am neither. ) A fellow blogger and friend replied "The beginning :)". The beginning?? Where the hell is that?? Can I find it on Google Maps?? Can Hopstop give me directions??

So I sat there that evening and tried to start from "the beginning." But that post was so God awful, complete with a Kelly Clarkson reference, that I closed Carrie B. (my laptop for those who forgot) and took my uncreative tired ass to bed. I haven't been back on the site until this morning. Why this morning?? Well it hit me, completely out of the blue like the rays shining so brightly into my bedroom this morning. The beginning is in my heart. That's where I've always written from. I SWEAH it was like an epiphany, well minus the light bulb over my head or music playing from the heavens in the background but yeah it was pretty spectacular. This post may not be the best I've ever written but hey, I wrote it. And that's a start (again). Most importantly, my heart is in it again.

Good Intentions

A couple of weeks ago I promised a post about someone new. Since writing that, I've struggled with what the hell I was going to say about him. It seems as if as soon as I publicly mentioned him, there's been a shift and I'm not sure where he stands at the moment. I guess I should start from the beginning.

I met someone a couple of months ago. You know how people tell you that you will meet someone when you least expect it? Well, this man definitely falls in that category. I met him while I was volunteering. There I was clad in a plastic apron, gloves, a hairnet and...clutch the pearls.....sneakers, and he saw someone he wanted to get to know. IMMEDIATELY. Within a couple of days of meeting, we spoke. He's older (we were not born in the same decade but thankfully, he wasn't born in the same decade as my parents either). And from our very first conversation, he was focused. During that convo, he was eager to get to know me. I was kinda caught off guard because he was so clear and direct. Most guys I meet, play all nonchalant like "I don't want her to know I'm digging her" and it's like playing that game "Operation" in trying to get to know this person. Ooops get too close to a topic and ZINNNNNNNNNNG you're out of the game. On our first date, he continued to be clear and direct about his intentions and where he sees his life over the next couple of years. I told him about my not so stellar dating history and told him that it was fine for him to jump all in if he wanted to, but I was gonna sit on the side of the pool, dangling my feet, and getting comfortable with the water before jumping in. I've learned, finally, to be cautious when it comes to matters of my heart. He reminded me that he was older, meaning he doesn't have time for the games. He calls himself the visionary, saying that he could see all the good that's in store for us and calls me the project manager, the one who is more practical in getting us there. I thought it was cute. And quite accurate.

He accidentally met a friend of mine and she was highly impressed, telling me that I needed to hurry up and see the vision. It wasn't that I didn't want to see the vision. I just want to see more before I could envision the possibilities he spoke of. I have to figure out whether his focused intent is admirable or if it scares the bejesus out of me.

So here we are, just a couple of months down the road. And I'm not still not seeing the vision. He says all the right things, and when we actually hang out, I have a good time. But...........he's not consistent. Or better yet, his follow through is lacking. I can look at his schedule and projects that he's currently working on and say to myself "There's no way in hell I'll see him this week." While that can be disappointing, I'm realistic and okay with it. He works 16 hours days, 5 days a week, and is working on a major multi-million proposal for his organization on top of that. In spite of it all, he will try to see me for a mini date - like going for a drink after work. When I raise my concerns over what has to be his sheer exhaustion, he will insist that he will be fine. Day of our mini date comes and guess what? He cancels for all of the reasons I believed why we shouldn't have arranged the date in the first place. I've voiced my frustration over it and he insists that he has good intentions when making plans. But I've often used the quote : "The road to hell is paved in good intentions. " I've told him that when he cancels last minute its not only disappointing but makes him appear unreliable. It has gotten to the point where I now make other plans on days we're supposed to go out. And that's not good.

So what do I do? He says that his schedule will ease up soon and has asked for my patience. But what am I waiting for exactly? I don't know if I'm not sure I can believe in his vision or maybe I'm not ready to date exclusively or maybe a combo of both. Or none of the above. So until I know for sure, in limbo he sits. And yes, I realize no matter what, I may never know for sure. Especially when it comes to love and dating. So back on my observation deck I go. At least for now.

Casting Call

As I review my topics, I'm getting kinda nervous. Do I start off upbeat or do I dredge through the sludge and try to make sense of it. Begrudgingly, I decide to tackle the elephant in the room. I figure it will clear my mind for carefully scripted prose to move in. The difficult topic, you may ask?

Family. Sigh.

Seriously, no seriously, I wish I could send out a casting call for family members. I often see celebrities on TV in various interviews and starring in various TV programs and I think to myself "Wow this person would be perfect as my grandmother/aunt/uncle/cousin". Am I the only person that does this???

First, let me state a disclaimer. I would not want to recast my ENTIRE family. Ironically, the people I share the closest percentage of a DNA match are the ones that need to be swapped out of my life like Aunt Viv on Fresh Prince of Bel Air. My extended family of cousins and my father's side of my family, while I don't know them that well, are not the people I'm referring to in this post. Specifically, I speak of my mother's mother, my mother's sisters, and through annoyance, my mother's nephew.

During my mother's illness they provided absolutely no support to me. I wish I made this up; it would make for a great dramatic series and I would be Shonda Rhimes PAID. One of my mother's sisters lives in the same city where my mother was hospitalized for over 3 weeks and never showed up. Not once. Not ever. Not even a phone call. And she wonders why I don't respect her. My mother's mother was content to allow me to see my mother on a respirator in a coma alllll by myself, even though she lives 30 minutes away from the hospital. And then when she finally came to the hospital while I was there, the only thing she asked me was "Did you cry when you saw her?" as if that's some indication as to how much I love my mother. For the record, after being in the room for all of approximately 10 seconds and seeing my mother hooked up to all those damn machines and tubes in her mouth I lost it and had to be gently escorted to the family room by strangers. How's that for love??? My mother's other sister decided to continue to not speak to me over some petty shit that occurred months ago. Despite the uncertainty of her sister's illness, she felt it was best to not reach out to her sister's only child. Such a Christian. My mother's nephew called me 3 weeks into the ordeal and said he didn't realize her illness was that serious. My response? "How do you spell serious? I-C-U or C-O-M-A, fool!". Throughout this entire ordeal, they never ever ever reached out to me to see how I was doing or if I needed anything. Not one time. I got more support from neighbors, friends, non-immediate family, and you guys than I received from these people. This is probably why I am sooooooo eternally grateful to each and every one of you. You filled a void without even knowing it. Shit, for most of you, without even knowing me personally.

So months later, what do I do with this?? To say I'm hurt is an understatement. Funny I'm only mildly shocked (my family has done so much crap in the past that this incident was just another drop in the proverbial shit bucket). But this time, I took a stand. Instead of keeping it bottled in, I spoke to my mom about it. One of the best gifts that has ever come out of this ordeal is my mom and I communicate like never before. We spend hours just talking and it feels like mere minutes. I believe we have a better understanding and appreciation for each other as women. So I told her how I felt and told her that I would not be guilted into just "letting it go." Quite frankly, I don't know if I can ever just let this go. So without the aid of the holiday husband I've searched for in the past, I decided I would not spend any of the holidays with these people and would not make any excuses as to why I wouldn't be there. No holiday husband. No sudden case of bird-swine-canine-feline-human flu. I took a stance and simply said "No!"

Thanksgiving was easy. No one wanted to travel and they definitely didn't want my mother to travel so we spent the eating frenzied holiday with my great aunts and cousins. My baby sister, who's a recent South to North transplant spent the day with us as well. Best Thanksgiving I've had in a lonnnnnnnnng time. As Christmas neared, I could tell my mother was a little nervous. The topic of where to spend Christmas holiday did not come up until the week of Christmas. Once I heard that the family was gathering at my mother's sister's house, I knew there was no way in BET hell I would spend the day there. Would you enter the home of someone who has made it very clear that they won't utter one word to you??? I was content to spend the morning with my mother, make sure she got to her sister's house, and then partake in the New York non-Christian tradition of a movie and Chinese food on Christmas Day. I started stock piling my snacks to smuggle into the theater and timed the movies so I could actually do a 2 for 1 deal at the theater.

Christmas Day arrived and after Santa surprised the hell out of me, my mom and I went to a friend's house for her annual Christmas brunch. My mom and I toasted multiple times with the ever-flowing mimosas. She laughed and really enjoyed being with my friends and all of their shenanigans. GOOD TIMES. A few hours later, she went off to her sister's house and I eventually mosied over to a cousin's house for a quiet but entertaining wine flowing dinner. I didn't make it to the movies as originally planned, but my day was drama free. And quite honestly, that's all I wanted for Christmas.

So here we are in a New Year. And I don't have to deal with the original family cast for a while. My mother's birthday is next month and I'm secretly wishing she doesn't want to get together with these folks. Because her born day is the ONLY day I'm willing to do whatever she wants. I really don't know how to deal with these people. Do I fake it? Do I let it go? Do i drink my self into a stupor to tolerate being around these people for a few hours?? Do I completely sever ties? Severing ties with this group of people is hard because the ripple effect is so great - I miss my godsons immensely and I know it saddens my mother (she respects my decision but I don't know how long that will last). But right now I feel it is so damn necessary. In any other aspect of life, you choose who you let into your life, who you interact with, and how much involvement they have in your life. If a boyfriend wronged you REPEATEDLY, you break up. If a friend turns their back on you, you stop hanging out with them. So why can't the same thing be done with family?? I'm on to the next one. Somebody call the casting agent, please.

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For those of you wondering who my cast would be, I would cast Patti LaBelle and Paula Dean as my grandmothers (I'm not even biracial but yeah these 2), Vanessa Williams, Regina King, and Traci Ellis Ross as my aunts, and Reggie Bush as my cousin (Sidebar: since I don't have an older sister, Traci Ellis Ross would be cast as my young aunt who would be like a sister to me...hahahaha). The list is completely random but this would be the new family cast in my comedic drama series called "Life".

New

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yeah, I know, I suck. Epic monkey balls suck. I could tell you that there are over 20 unfinished blogs yearning to break free from writing purgatory but you don't care about all of that. As you've witnessed in my absence, writing took a back seat in my life. Like Rosa Parks get your butt to the back of the bus back seat in my life. Many days, I wondered if writing was still riding with me as I often stared blankly at the computer screen. This has absofuckinglutely been the worst writer's block I've ever had. It took me 2 days to come up with the phrase inside of my custom made holiday cards. It was one sentence. *head hanging shame*

A friend recently challenged me to write. Write. Write. Write. She told me. No matter how craptastic I think the writing may be she told me to write at least 500 words daily. I don't know about the 500 word count (I haven't counted words since I submitted college essays) but she's right. So here I am. Again. Writing.

So much has been going on in my life since my last post (SideBar: I hate, hate, hate that my last post - the first one on my page to all the millions who click on my site - is such an emotional raw post. I wanted to write 10 blogs of crap just to bury it. ). I could write one post detailing it all but I believe it would read like the Odessey. Without the Cliff Notes. And the English teacher breaking it down for you. No bueno.

There are some things I want to write about. I'll call them my topics of the week. In no particular order:
*Family
*I met someone
* Love? (yes that's an intentional questional mark)
*35

One bit of great news I will share today is my mom is doing well. She went back to work a couple of weeks ago. She started part time but will ramp up to full time probably by the end of this month. Even on my best linguistic day, I couldn't express how happy I am that she has recovered enough to even contemplate going back to work. Of course I still worry about her. On most days I feel like there is some serious role reversal going on ( I threatened punishment once....WTF???!!!), but thankfully those kinds of days are happening less and less. I cannot begin to thank you enough for all of your prayers and well wishes.

With all of that said, yes I'm back in my refuge. And this isn't quite as craptastic as I thought it would be. I guess writing is like riding a bike. Although I wouldn't know, since I never learned to ride a bike but that's another story for another day. LOL

I hope you'll stop by again and read and comment and ride this journey with me. Again. I think I miss you guys as much as I THINK you miss me. Well most of you, anyway. LOL