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.

***************************************
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

Absent Letter

Dear You,

The absence of you has been torture. Especially given your abrupt departure from my life. Just when I thought I was ready to be open to the possibilities of it all, you disappear like a thief in the night. Literally. Mr. Hit & Run/Dine & Dash/Love & Leave 'Em formerly known as my friend.

The absence of you has thrown me into frigid ocean waters with a paper cut. Unexpectedly, the waters shock me into a cold reality I never imagined. Then, the salt from the sting of the ironic beauty of your words seeps into the paper cuts on my soul. At that moment, all I can do is scream........and drown. Then, shake it off like nothing ever happened. And occasionally, take ten steps back. (like right now)

The absence of you makes me question every chapter I wrote with you. Fiction? Non-fiction? Romance? Sci-fi? Friend? Foe? Sweet dream? Nightmare? Reward? Retribution?

The absence of you is a glaring reminder of all that I was willing to give up for you. And all I wish I never said. Some secrets aren't meant to see the light of day. I thought you were my safe haven, the place my secrets could rest peacefully. Now, they're out there and this shit feels like hell. Next time, I'll keep my mouth shut. Thanks for the reminder.

The absence of you fills me with regret. I regret even knowing you. There's no way I'd want to be friends with a person who could so capriciously and callously turn their back on someone they claim to love and care about. If this is your version of being my friend, sign me up for the enemy line; it's safer there. I'll never know why you did what you did. The absence of you leaves nothing but my dangling questions and no one to reply with a sensible answer. With so much time between your presence then and your absence now, NOTHING you say would be sensible at this point.

The absence of you makes me hate you. Just when I was open to the possibility of loving you. And I wish I never did it...........

Sincerely,
Me

*inspired by this song playing on my iPod...not necessarily real life. not necessarily.

Hello......

....is it me you're looking for??? (*cue Lionel Richie. No need to start sculpting)

*peeking around and waving from behind the wall I've built*

My last post was not supposed to be a pre-hiatus post but that's what it turned out to be. I thought that I was ready to hit the ground running and write, write, write until my fingertips were numb from banging on this keyboard. But as I've recently uttered, "Writing feels like a pretty dress in my closet that I've gained too much weight to wear without being embarrassed."

Taking a break from writing may not have been the wisest choice I've made lately. I should have worked and worked at it until that dress fit like a glove. But there was....is.... sooo much taking up my mindspace. I didn't think I should write that shit. Way too personal. Even for my refuge.

My world was turned upside down on August 3 - the day my mother was admitted into the hospital. I thought when she was out of a coma and subsequently off of ICU, my life would miraculously be turned right side up again - writing, job hunt, move, back on track. Oh how wrong was I! Simply put, this has been my earthquake. While my mother has been released from the hospital, she spent a month in a rehabilitation facility/nursing home, which we affectionately call "Shady Pines" (did I really need a reference link for Shady Pines??? lol). Luckily, Shady Pines was in New York, so I no longer had to travel out of state to see her, tend to her. However, it was still emotionally and physically draining - like tremors after a major earthquake. Add to this the emotional and physical abandonment of my so called immediate family, I'm often amazed that I haven't completely and utterly lost it like wandering the streets disheveled and drug hazed like some alleged "celebrity" caught by the paparazzi. But somehow, some way, I've held it together. I know its prayer. And I have to thank you, my readers, my friends, my fans - even the damned stalkers - for those prayers.

After an earthquake, you'd straighten the paintings on the wall, turn the furniture right side up, sweep up whatever broken glass or unpotted plant, and throw out the trash. Afterwards, everything looks normal like nothing catastrophic ever happened. . Until you discover cracks in the foundation. That's how I look at things these days. Everything I thought I knew, I don't. Well that's not entirely true. For one, writing this, as disconnected as it may read, feels really good - as I suspected it would.

However, my foundation is cracked. Thankfully, by the grace of God, the cracks aren't permanent. And with time, I pray they will be healed. In the meantime, I'm going to make more of an effort to write. I need that dress to fit again.

We, the People....

......are seriously fucked up.

What is this trajectory this country is on?? Seriously, I'm not all Pollyanna and Mary Poppins with my patriotic optimism but I never imagined I would find my country moving in such a divisive manner . Is this what having a Black president brings out of people??

This controversy over the site of the Islamic Cultural Center in lower Manhattan is appalling. Yes, men who professed to be followers of Islam commandeered planes and committed crimes against humanity so egregious it's still a sore wound for me, almost 9 years later. And yes, in the aftermath there were some who cheered because to them the hijackers were David and we were the fallen Goliath. However, that does not give us the license to condemn this project. Every religion has fanatics and extremists (wait....are there Buddhist extremists??? I don't know). The KKK claimed to be Christians. I don't see anyone protesting the building of churches near where people were lynched, brutalized, terrorized. Timothy McVeigh was raised Catholic. Are we saying that no Catholic Church or anything related to the tenets of Catholicism can be erected any where near the site of the Oklahoma City Bombing because doing so would be "insensitive"?
(Sidebar: I see no one protesting the current existence of strip joints and "massage" parlors in such close proximity to these hallowed grounds in lower Manhattan. Sooooooo, sex is okay but religion is not?? Ohhh, okay. )

This blanket condemnation has to stop. The people behind this project had NOTHING to do with the mass murders that occurred on September 11. Don't you think that if they did, the government and the media would have figured it out by now?? All they want to do is build a center that accommodates their congregation since they have outgrown the space they currently occupy (which, by the way, was already in the neighborhood). The religion itself is not responsible either. The Pope may not be happy with the way I live my life all the time but I'm still a Catholic. It's my interpretation of my faith that plays a role in how I live my life. That doesn't mean that every single Catholic in the world subscribes to my interpretation. Instead of burning the Qur'an - a book held sacred to some just as the Bible and the Torah are sacred to others, how about we read it and understand the beliefs of this religion we clearly know nothing about? In this case, knowledge is definitely power. Power against propaganda and close minded viewpoints. Don't get hoodwinked by the zealots that stirred up your fears. If so, we're doing EXACTLY what they wanted us to do. We no longer need to elect politicians, we're allowing them - the terrorists- to govern our lives. We are becoming no better than them. Why stoop to their level??

Personally, I believe the Islamic Cultural Center would be a great addition to the lower Manhattan neighborhood. It would stand as a symbol of tolerance and acceptance of diversity. A testament to not allowing the actions of a few to define the beliefs of all. If the center is built as planned, it will include a performance arts center, a childcare center, fitness center, culinary school, art studio, September 11 memorial, and a prayer space for Muslims to worship. Someone please explain to me what is so evil and insensitive about such a structure. I've tried to see the opposing points of views but it all just sounds like codes for bigotry and xenophobia. I'm almost expecting a resurgence in white hooded outfits and cross burnings. Will I be considered 3/5 of a person again? Will I be relegated to the fields picking cotton?? Will people be burned at the stake for not going to church?? How far are we taking this??

Some people do cruel unconscionable acts, all in the name of religion. Why can't the rest of us turn our backs on the hate and embrace our differences, all in the name of humanity? Isn't that what this country was founded on? If we, as a country, as a people, continue on this intolerant, insensitive, hate filled road, we will see more attacks, more divisiveness, more hate. We can't afford anymore wars. The United States essentially becomes an oxymoron and the Constitution becomes nothing more than some old piece of paper. Like Spike Lee famously admonished through the voice of Laurence Fishbourne at the end of School Daze, WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKEEEEEEE UPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!


*To those who may stumble across my blog because you've set up an alert for any of the controversial terms mentioned above, respect my space. We can agree to disagree, however I won't tolerate or publish any viscious or negative attacks on me personally. I can't go for that, no can do.

Clicked

On Sunday, after dancing my wings off in the hot sun at Spike Lee's birthday party for Michael Jackson in Prospect Park, my friends and I boogied on down to a restaurant near the Brooklyn Pier. As a native New Yorker, I can say I've never been here. As many times as I've been to Brooklyn, I've never actually taken a walk down to the Brooklyn Pier. And it was absolutely beautiful. With the Brooklyn Bridge to my right, and Manhattan directly in front of me across the river, the entire setting was simply........ New York. If life had a movie soundtrack, at that moment you would have heard the instrumental piano version of Empire State of Mind quietly playing in the background. At least that's what I heard in my head while standing there. I couldn't help but smile.

My friends and I were in the area to go to some restaurant/lounge for.........you know what?? I still have no idea who or what we were there for. All I know is I was with friends and having an amazing time. LOL We get to the venue and they are playing all the music that I love. I'm dancing through the crowd like its a Sooooooooooooooul TRAIN line. This place was packed. Wall to wall beautiful browns in more colors than Crayola could invent, more flavors than in Baskin Robbins (the real Baskin Robbins ice cream store not the blog person...LOL). After about an hour of cocktails and 2 stepping to everything MJ, we FINALLY finagled a table made for 2 for our party of 4. Yeah it was that packed. Unfortunately, we were informed by a member of staff that food orders were on a moratorium for an hour. Ummmmmm, I have to wait at least 3,600 seconds BEFORE I can even tell you that all I want is an order of sweet potato fries and another cocktail??? *scratch the needle alll the way across that life soundtrack*

TAXI!!!!!

My girls and I hit up another popular Brooklyn hotspot for a bite to eat and people watching. We settled into a table outside (it was finally cool enough to appreciate being outside but still warm enough to make you want to linger and enjoy the evening) and were joined by 2 guys who were friends of a friend. Of course, the conversation kicked into high gear at that point. You know how it is, you put a table of men and women of a certain age and maturity, the conversation is ALWAYS going to turn to relationships. Never fails. In between bites of yummy goodness (that food was pretty tasty; never disappoints. ), we laughed, joked, and laughed some more over the nuances of dealing with the opposite sex.

Towards the end of our evening, the question was "What are 3 attributes you look for in a mate (besides aesthetics)?" Usually when questions come up like this I roll my eyes, like here we go with the bullshit. Everybody's gonna say something that sounds good, but they know they don't mean it. But lately, maybe because of my mother's illness, I've been thinking about the make up of my mystery man. As we went counter-clockwise around the table, I listened to everyone's answers and couldn't help but think, regardless of background, gender, educational pedigree, we all pretty much want the same damn thing. Everyone before me (I was last), gave answers that I nodded my affirmations to like "Yep, that's on my list too" or "Yeah, that's a good one too". But since we could only give three, here were my picks:

1. Consistency. Simply put, the tactics you use to woo me in the beginning, need to be present throughout the relationship. I'm not saying that you must take me to 3-star Michellin rated dining establishments everytime we go out to eat if that's what you did in the beginning. I'm talking about not taking me for granted. I observe a lot of relationships, and just like a career, relationships take work. At work, you can't slack off once you get the promotion. If you do, you're demoted or fired and someone else will be doing your job. Same holds true for relationships. Consistency builds trust. This is not to say that you don't or can't evolve while in a relationship. But be consistent in who you are fundamentally as a person.

2. Communicator. I need to be with someone I can have difficult conversations with. Whether it's about money, family, work, etc. it doesn't matter. It is very difficult for me to let down my guard but like consistency, communication takes work. I have to work at not only effectively speaking with my mate, I also have to work at effectively listening to him as well. I also need a mate who is willing to work at effectively communicating with me as well. Years ago, I dated a guy who was the nicest, sweetest guy I'd ever met. He was consistent, loyal, trustworthy, funny...everything you could bring home to momma. However, our ability to communicate with each other was blah. I would ask him "Oh what are you doing this weekend?" and he would respond "Oh, nothing." Eventually, I had to tell him "When you say 'nothing', I hear 'I don't want to see you." He stated that's not what he meant and couldn't understand how I interpreted his message that way. I, on the other hand, knew of no other way to interpret it. Eventually, our relationship ended. It became stagnant. I had to realize that we communicate very differently and it wasn't going to work. I also realized how important I needed communication to be in future relationships (okay, so I didn't always follow my own sage wisdom with some of the mistakes I dated afterwards, but hey you live and learn, right?! lol)

3. Ride or Die. No, I'm not talking in the literal, rap song implication. I'm not committing a crime for anybody, ya heard me?! My friends and I use this term because no matter what, we are there for each other, no questions asked. When my mom became ill and my so called immediately family wasn't there for me, I thought a lot about being with someone who would just be there for me, no questions asked. Of course, people have jobs and obligations but there were many times, I wanted someone to just be there for me, whether it was serving as a buffer between me and the dysfunction I'm related to, or reminding me I have to eat, or just holding my hand when I had to sit in my mother's room and watch a machine breath for her. Like Meth said, I wanted someone that "even when the skies are gray, you would rub me on my back and say baby, it'll be okay/that's real to a nigga like me baby". There are no guarantees in saying it will be okay, but knowing that someone is there to support and protect you is all I need to get by. Ride or Die for me is also synonymous for being adventurous or at the very least, being willing to step somewhat outside your comfort zone for that other person. I could never commit my life to someone who is soooo closed off from the world and its experiences, so boring and dull. Eat something besides chicken every single day, go ziplining through the Costa Rican forest, dance with me in the street because oooh that's our song and we don't care what these strangers walking by may say. That's what I want. No, that's what I need.

That night I left Brooklyn rejuvenated. It was as if another piece of the puzzle I call life had fit perfectly into place, clicked into the groove right before my eyes. *cue up that life soundtrack again, maestro.*

Mission Delicious

Last week was Baskin Robbin's birthday. In the midst of all that was going on with my mom, I was trying to think of something nice to give him for his birthday. Sometime after March Madness: The Birthday Edition, he took the time to surprise me with a simple yet thoughtful gift so I wanted to do the same for him. Also, during my mom's hospital stay, he'd been so supportive - praying with me, calling to check on me throughout the day, letting me vent- that I wanted to also say thank you for being a friend (cue "Golden Girls" theme song)

I know my relationship with him makes no sense to anyone. Intermittently, I've had friends ask 'Sooooo, what's up with you two?" And my response has been "Ummmmm what do you mean? And ummm [insert relevant topic changer here]". Yes, I know that's avoidance. But basically, there are many hurdles to overcome before the subject of "us" could be broached and I'm not even sure there should be an "us". Don't get me wrong, I care for him as I know he cares for me. However, I've learned that just because you care for someone doesn't mean you MUST be with that person. So I enjoy his company when I see him, and I enjoy speaking to him when face to face time is not a viable option. With him, I live in the moment and let the future worry about itself.

So while watching TV in my hotel room one night, I came up with the idea for Mission Delicious. I made a few phone calls to see if the idea in my head could be played out. Once I got the confirmation I was looking for, I proceeded with my mission.

At the stroke of midnight of his birthday, we were on the phone. Once I sang my version of Happy Birthday (horribly I might add but it makes for a good laugh), I informed him that he had a mission to complete today. Of course he responded with a "What?!" I reiterated, "At a predetermined time today you will receive further instructions for your mission if you choose to accept. Which you better accept. hahahahaha" He laughed and responded "Ohhhhhhkay". Shortly thereafter we ended our convo. But not before he tried to get more info out of me. I'm not that easy and this was way too much fun to see he was already curious.

That morning I got up and traveled down to see my mom. Before I got caught up in the whirlwind of doctors and nurses and therapists and case managers, I sent the following text:

Mission Delicious: You have been selected to complete this mission. Report to [address redacted] in [City, State where he lives] at 1 pm. When in route, please respond to this message via text with the code word [inside joke] for further instructions.

He called me in less that 3 minutes. LOL In between his fits of laughter, he wanted to know if he had to be there at exactly 1 pm. I informed him that 1pm was the starting time but that it was okay for him to show up at said location any time after one but before seven or his mission would expire. He next question kind of threw me for a loop.

"Where the hell is [address redacted]?"
Now I'm familiar with the city he lives in, despite the construction renaissance that's been going on there. I've even seen where I'm sending him the last couple of times that I've been there so I don't understand why he doesn't know where this is. I'm 1000% sure I gave him the correct address because I copied it directly from the website and I confirmed with the location that it was indeed the address. So I responded the only way I know how. With sarcasm.

"Whatchu mean where is [address redacted for stalker purposes]? And ummmmm, don't you have GPS in the car??"
"Hahahaha. You're right. I thought I could get you to tell me where I'm going. hahahahah"
"Silly negro. Tricks are for kids. hahahahaha. Now, remember, text me when en route for further instructions."

A couple of hours later, I received the text I was waiting for. I replied:

Upon arrival (with the help of your GPS..LOL), walk into location and give the following password [nickname we have for each other that happens to be the name of a luxury brand]. Upon verification, you will receive further instructions.

A few minutes later, he called me. Laughing. If a man could laugh hysterically, then yeah that would be the way I would describe his laughter. "I'm here!!" He sounded like a kid on Christmas. Was that a squeal?! He was soooo excited and hadn't even gotten his gift yet. He quickly hung up the phone when the woman behind the counter asked "How can I help you?"

About 2 minutes later, as I'm shopping for new sunglasses at one of the outlets, he calls me back. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!!!!" is all I hear when I answered the phone. He was beaming through the phone and I couldn't help but smile as brightly as the sun shining outside (hence my need for shades). "Awww, you're welcome!!! I'm glad you like it." I respond. YAY!!! Phase 1 of Mission Delicious was a success.

So what exactly did I get him?
I ordered a bouquet of chocolate covered strawberries from Edible Arrangements, complete with his age carved in chocolate dipped pineapple pieces in the center of the bouquet.
Why chocolate covered strawberries??
The man loves them. LOVES THEM. He attempted to make some for me once (the chocolate hardened by the time he got back to the room, so it was more spreadable than dippable but we still ate them. LOL). Also, a coworker got a very similar bouquet delivered to his job about a month ago, and it was so memorable that we talked about it on two separate occasions.
Why the covert operation?
Sure I could have just had them delivered to his house/job but where's the fun in that?! Also, he had me in a state of suspensful crazy shakes and stalking my mailman a couple of months ago so why can't I add a little mystery to his life? And besides, I realize men love the hunt/the chase/whatever the hell you want to call it. So this time, I had him chasing strawberries since I wasn't there. LOL

And for those of you who were paying attention, Mission Delicious is not over yet. This was only phase one of this covert operation. Hmmmmmm, what's in store for Phase 2??? I'm working on it. Hopefully, it will be sweeter than those strawberries.

Mental Escapades

In my last post, I said that writing feels real again. While this may be true, time has been a successful runaway slave. By the time I return to the hotel, eat, go to the gym (maybe), shower, and research medical terms and treatment options, I am B-E-A-T. On most nights, Carrie B. is in the bed with me. Not my idea of who I’d like to snuggle close to in a plush hotel bed but hey, what am I gonna do about it?? LOL

What’s so ironic about time running away from me like I beat it until its name was Toby is I’ve had some time for my brain to wander. I guess when things get so overwhelming with my mom, my mind checks out and plays in various mental playgrounds where it can skip and jump and play until the bell rings. Some days these thoughts are life revolutionary but most days they border on the ridiculous and make me giggle. And with so much heaviness, I decided to share one of these mental playgrounds with you.

I’m going to have to be tipsy when I sleep with Idris Elba.

Yes this was a thought I had one day while flipping through a magazine. And notice I didn’t say IF I WERE TO EVER SLEEP WITH him, I said WHEN. Now before you guys start shopping for a white jacket with armholes that wrap around my back in my size, hear me out. Yes, I know that there’s a slim chance of me ever being intimate with THE Idris Elba. But that’s just a minor detail and wasn’t quite relevant in the playground that day. Besides, I met him years ago (around the first season of The Wire when he wasn’t that visible on the radar) and he’s so down to Earth (at least he was that night) that he always seems like an attainable fantasy instead of some never in a million years would this happen kind of guy.

Now why would I have to be tipsy? You would think that for our night I would want to be stone cold sober when our escapade….errr make that plural, escapades occur to remember every miniscule detail. While he seems like a average guy who happens to be superbly above average fine, all that chocolate yumminess is a bit intimidating. And I fear, I’d have performance anxiety if I was uber sober when the time came. So I’ll need a shot or 2. No more than that or I’ll be too silly. And drunk sexy ain’t all that sexy….at least not the first time. There's a time and a place for everything.

I’ve also eliminated what I can’t drink on that fateful first night. It won’t be Hennessy or as I call it “The Bitch” for obvious reasons. I can’t have an attitude when I’m trying to get my swerve on (sidebar: do people still say swerve on?? And where exactly did this phrase come from? Lol). Vodka perhaps? Nah, it makes your breath stink the next day. Rum?? Ummmmm, rum is like water for me. There will be no coitus interuptus for a potty break. Wine?? While wine is sexy, one glass of wine will put me to sleep and I want to be wide awake for the action that will take place. Tequila? Hmmm. Yes, I think I will take a shot of tequila, particularly Patron XO Café (coffee liqueur made with Patron tequila for those uninformed or too lazy to click on the link). A shot of Patron is just enough to loosen my nerves a bit but to keep my sensibilities in check. I’ll be ready for the party.

As I type this I can’t help but wonder if this mental playground was about my Idris fantasy or more about my desire at the time for a drink. Since I didn’t venture into the how it will be territory, I may be inclined to believe that I was thirsty. However, isn’t it more fun to allow the mind to circumvent the desire by way of such a delectable fantasy?? Well, it was fun for me damnit. LOL

PS Mr. Elba, if by some google search chance you come across my blog because I've mentioned your name, please understand it is not my intention to objectify you as a piece of (well endowed I hope) meat. I apologize but ummm can I apologize in person?? It will be sincere and yes, I will have had that shot of Patron XO cafe. :D