i'm an experiment

Frosh_________________I: "Dean's Greeting"

2007-12-04T01:18:00.000-08:00

Hey all, I'm trying something out - after all, this blog is "an experiment". Let me know what you think.

__________________________________________________________

“Good morning! My name is Doctor E. VanLuc Chiraud. I am the Dean of Students, and it is my pleasure to extend to you the first of many warm welcomes to this fine institution that I have come to call home.

Baylor-Stone University has a rich history that began back in 1861, and this history continues to be fostered to this day by young citizens like yourselves.

Sitting here in the famous Grandison Auditorium may be a dream come true for some. All your hard work, the months of SAT preparation and testing, the years of maintaining stellar grade point averages, and the Saturdays spent working or volunteering for community service projects has finally paid off. For others, the dream is just beginning. You may feel unworthy to sit in the plush, plum-colored seats, or maybe the thought of successfully completing four years here makes you nervous or uncomfortable. But allow me to assure all of you, that you all belong here. Every person sitting in this room deserves to be here, and soon, each of you will see why.

Baylor-Stone prides itself on excellence through perseverance and endurance. Each and every one of you has proven to admissions that you have the spirit to persevere and endure. Now, it is our job to set you on the path to excel.

Look to your left. Look to your right. The person sitting on either side of you has the potential to be friend or foe. Hopefully, he or she is the former, not the latter. But regardless of what that person may become in relation to your life, know that he or she will be the one to push you until we all meet in this room again for the celebration of graduation. Friends help us to persevere and endure, but so do enemies. Friends provide us encouragement and uplift in the midst of our trials, but enemies give us a reason to stay in the game, to reach farther, and to strive harder.

It may be said that this does not hold true for everyone, but I believe it holds true for students of Baylor-Stone, and I believe it holds true for you, or you wouldn’t be sitting here today. We are not quitters here at BSU, and we do not stop, even when the job is done. We believe in, live up to, and advance our motto: “Supremus Ultra!” “Above, Beyond!” And each of you has demonstrated that in your academic and extracurricular lives. My only request is that you let Baylor-Stone further cultivate this attitude of excellence so that you all may truly sail past the stars.

Freshmen and women of Baylor-Stone, as you venture out into our pressure-cooked world of competitive arts, athletics, and academia, I bid you to savor these words: “...Incline thine ear unto wisdom, and apply thine heart to understanding…criest after knowledge” and you shall not fail.”

the 6-month review

2007-10-29T11:02:00.000-07:00

When people move or grow apart, it's hard to catch them up on your life. So much can and does happen in such a short amount of time. A college buddy, who moved across-country after graduation, recently asked me for my personal 411 since the big day in May. Jokingly, I presented the last six months of my life in an autobiographical format. But then, I read the message back and realized, "hey...this is pretty good!" It's true you never really know where you're going until you look back at where you've been. This really helped me to realize, and be thankful for, the blessing of growth. I hope all of you take an opportunity at some point to do the same. Step back from the artistry that is your life. Count the good and the bad and tally it all up. I'm sure you won't be able to help but recognize and be inspired by the awesomeness of you. Then, go a step further: record your story, audibly, visually, or just write it down. Whenever you are down, you can refer back and remind yourself of how great your life really is. It's nice to have people compliment us, but it's better to find strength from within.

So, may I present to you, my 6-month review.

"...but David encouraged himself in the LORD his God." - 1 Sam. 30:6

In a message to a friend:

please turn with me to page 33 of "the notorious life of m.j-tre".

"...after losing my job in the law office, i proceeded to drift into a state of desolation and despair. to help curb the overwhelmingness of the situation, i returned to my first love: the pen. a friend suggested that i start a blog to help rejuvenate the writing spirit and to assist with getting real feed back from the known and unknown world of readers. though i hated the very idea and concept of blogging, i stepped out on faith, was obedient to wise counsel and created "i'm an experiment" at http://mic-tre.blogspot.com. the summer months were filled with posts, but after a landed a position at an academic/work program for youth who have fallen between the cracks of the conventional school system - writing became less of a concern again. i loved my job; i really doubt that i could have found a better match for a full-time position straight out of college - especially since i only really had legal experience.

three months passed. i was still enjoying work and the single life of a young woman. my friends surrounded me in the neighborhood, as they, too, decided to remain in the general vicinity of our college town. then the longing for the written word hit me again. i didn't know what to do, but then i picked up "repositioning yourself" by t.d. jakes and was immediately inspired. he said, "if you are pursuing a passion, there is no reason why you shouldn't surround your self with literature and other materials on that topic." i couldn't understand why i didn't think of that, but i hit the local library instantly and grabbed how-to books on how to write novels. then it was on. i followed the exercises set out in the various books and began a project that is still in effect today. though it is still in its nascent and tender stages, i am very excited about where it's going. i only hope i live up to my mountainous expectations. in addition, i aided a few friends on their personal writing projects by providing content direction and editing. that, too, is a passion that i plan to continue to nurture.

thoughts of school were absolutely obscene, for the longest. it was a burden to even ponder graduate school options. i had no idea what i wanted to do, and making a decision seemed impossible. that is until i caught sight of a fabulous writer while reading one of my how-to books. i looked up the author and discovered that he, before he died, was a prominent professor at an extremely prestigious and reputable university in baltimore. it was a sign. i had been thinking about moving to the east coast for the longest, but with no purpose, i knew it would be futile. i loved hbo's hit series "the wire" and for some reason wanted to check out the gully streets of bmore for myself after the first couple of episodes. now the idea was back in my mind. m.f.a at johns-hopkins or nyu? now i had options, and i was beginning to think it was going to be okay to put the plans for a ph.d right after a b.a. on hold. new york was less of a highlight for me after my first apartment search. there was no way i could see myself paying more money for less space than i already had in my tiny one bedroom apartment. chicago had been on my mind for a while - after all, i was told by a native the rate of men to women was 10 to 1, and that it was a hot spot for young black professional males. plus, i had never heard a bad thing about a man from chicago...throw in common and john legend, and it was a wrap. that chi-town native told me that i should go and find a husband, and i was seriously considering taking him up on his advice, because in all truthfulness, california - in general - was not the place.

though i thoroughly enjoyed my new neighborhood, and could always take a quick flight home at a moment's notice, i was desperately in need of something new and fresh. but i wasn't in a big hurry. everything in it's time and place. when the opportunity presented itself, i would be sure to pounce. until then, i was content to prepare and wait for the adventures the next chapter was sure to bring..."

A.W.E.

2007-10-22T13:46:00.000-07:00

It's time we talk about A.W.E.

And not in terms of being AWEstruck or AWEsome. No. I'm talking about the A.W.E. that stands for Awkward Work Experiences. (Feel free to exchange "Situations" with "Experiences" as you so desire. Just note that the acronym won't be as cool.)

There's no doubt in my mind that we all encounter A.W.E. everyday. But what GOOD does that do us if we cannot share, and most importantly, reenact these uncomfortable, silly, and sometimes downright bizarre situations? Here are a few of my regular AWEs:

1. Meetings in the Ladies' Room - Call me crazy, but I simply cannot STAND being in the restroom with other people! It's so weird! I'm not referring to friends and/or relatives - remember, these are awkward WORK experiences. If I enter the restroom, and there's someone in a stall, nine times out of ten, I'm going to turn right around and find another facility or hold it until I can rest assured that the pottier has safely exited. If I'm already in the restroom, I try to out-pee the new pottier, OR I try to wait-out the person whose sole interest in the facilities is to primp and preen in the mirror. Why do I act so dorkishly (some of you may even refer to it as being a tad deranged or touched)?
a. Because of B.O. - While we women were created with myriad varieties of beauteous attributes that can be grouped in numerous categories such as: height, shape, form, complexion, et cetera, we also come equipped with our own unique, and perfectly natural scents. These scents help us attract mates (woo hoo!) They also are useful in marking territory and repelling enemies, because what may waft as a fragrant dream into the nostrils of your potential B.O.H. (Boo On the Horizon) may also assume the guise of noxious fumes and render me unconscious. It has nothing to do with cleanliness, unless that really is an issue; it merely means that the stanky key doesn't fit the lock. (Refer to the Discovery Channel for an in depth analysis.)
b. Potty Talk - I am not a fan of bathroom conversation. True, it's courteous to be polite, but, really, what do we need to talk about??? An inclination to get too chatty on the pot leads me to believe that a user is less focused on hygiene and other necessities that need to be taking place - like hand-washing, for example. As a user babbles on, I'm more inclined to scrutinize everything she's touching, as I make a mental note to let her open the bathroom door or to use plenty of paper towel if I must be forced to touch the door myself. Then I head straight for the pocket/purse size hand sanitizer in my desk drawer.
c. The Sink - There's only one and it only runs cold water. Need I say more?
d. Because I want to primp and preen...and pose, dagnabbit! Sadly, I've been caught posing a couple of times. Be assured that mortification and feelings of retardation swiftly ensued.

2. Greetings - This can, and usually does, happen anywhere, but since a healthy chunk of my life is spent at the office, the office is more than fertile grounds for greeting abuse. Please do not attribute the following to poor manners or ill-training, but it literally hurts me to say good morning. Yes it does. Every single time I have to say it. It doesn't matter if you're a family member or a foe, I hate saying good morning! Here's why:
a. Familiarity - If I know you well, what's the point? You know I like and/or love and appreciate you. I exude my like of you every once in a while through my actions, why do I have to say, 'good morning'? It's so formal! Can I just say, 'hey'? In fact, that's what I do say. I just say 'hey', to my mom, to my friends - but NOT to my coworkers - why? Because that's a little TOO unprofessional.......IRRITATION!!!!
b. The Unfamiliar - If I don't know you...why am I talking to you???!! I hate talking to strangers! Why? Probably because my mother taught me never to talk to strangers! Though I do, nowadays, because I feel compelled at times, it's always severely uncomfortable. This most likely has something to do with the fact that when I was a little girl, the ONE time I disobeyed and talked to a seemingly nice old lady from my seat in the car, she immediately found a police officer and tried to accuse my mom of neglect when she returned to the car moments later! I got the lashing of my life! So, it doesn't matter if I work with you and see you every day, know and trust that I will not feel comfortable speaking to you until someone properly introduces us. I am NOT an extrovert!
c. The Redundancy of It All - How many of us become simultaneous perpetrators and victims of the "HI"-50x-a-day syndrome? When unfamiliar with others, people seem to go out of their way to show themselves polite, friendly, kind. This results in 50 "Hi"s a day! I can't take the pressure!

3. Using Any Sort of Company Machine - It could be the water dispenser, the copier, or the fax machine. Luckily, at my job there are no elevators -'cause you know those would be included, too! When more than one person has to use a machine, people feel compelled to talk to again seem kind and polite. If they don't talk, they seem distant and cold. People also have a tendency to be nosey, so if I'm making personal copies I feel guilty under the rude, roving eyes of another coworker trying to figure out if I'm REALLY doing my job or not. "Back off, bucko!" is what I really want to say, but then we ALL know the accusations would fly then! Thank you Tyler Perry's Diary of a Mad Black Woman!

I hope you have enjoyed some of my A.W.E.s, and hopefully you can relate to at least one of them. If you cannot...well...I have another A.W.E. to add to my list - being the friggin' weirdo. Because if you out there in reader land think it on your own time, bet that someone at my job is thinking it, too...especially those who've caught me mid-bathroom-mirror posing....

...and he got KIDS, gurl...

2007-10-15T13:08:00.000-07:00

It has recently come to my attention that, like boxes of Cracker Jacks, many young men nowadays come complete with little surprises. Can you guess what they are?

CHILDREN.

Do I blame the babies? Of course not. Do I blame the babies' mamas? Not so much. Do I blame the men.......eh.....

It's just that I don't understand why. Is it just the "good" men who seem to have children? No; it's almost all of them. Take my students for example: they want to flirt with me and ask me out. I must rebuff them because 1. it's unprofessional 2. they're underage and 3. (you guessed it) THEY GOT KIDS - although #3 never officially comes up in the conversation. And guess what - this is BEFORE we can even get to the matter of whether or not I'd even be remotely interested. Again, this is just an example. I'm no pedophile.

But it's painful. That's the point I'm trying to get across. I've done well by my mama's name these past couple of decades; I've handled my business and I've even accomplished a few goals. They lied when they said you meet people in college - you do, it just ends up being a disaster 9 times out of 10 . The rest of us, and by rest I mean myself and anyone who cares to join me, are severely perplexed. Where are all the kid-LESS men? Do they have jobs? Goals? Aspirations? What are they doing? Hiding? Or are they just really busy? I mean, sheesh! I want to cry!

And [some] men want to talk about women with kids?! It's the same thing! If I'm interested in a man and I discover that he has kids, it pretty much bursts my bubble. I don't want to deal with the responsibility of your offspring because I'll have my opinions of how you should be raising them. I'll feel guilty spending time with a man, when I know he possibly could be spending that time with his kids. I don't want to enter a child's life only to know that there is a possibility that I may leave that life as well. I don't want to be approached by DeShawn twenty years from now to hear, "Man, where have you been? I really liked you, my daddy shouldn't have left you" nor do I want to hear, "Man...I can't STAND that woman!" I don't want to deal with the almost inevitable baby-mama drama. No. No thank you.

Is there anger here? Yes. Feel it. Savor it. Or reject it. Sigh....

What is our society coming to?

Connectivity

2007-10-12T16:53:00.000-07:00

Recently, I've felt starved of connectivity. It has been said countless times that we humans are social creatures, that we thrive on social stimulus. It may be your pleasure to kindly disagree, but think about babies. The more a baby is exposed to positive stimuli, the healthier it is in the long run. What bolsters a relationship - romantic or otherwise? Intimacy. Intimacy is closeness, spiritual, mental, and physical closeness - though in this day, sex does not necessarily equate with intimacy. There is nothing like being able to TRUST someone with vulnerable and valuable information, and knowing that yo bizness is secure. THAT's priceless, Mastercard. Put THAT in your pipe and smoke it!

So, "when in these thoughts - myself almost despising, haply I think on thee". Thee is undoubtedly you - you who are reading this right now. Because without your support, I would not feel a need to publish these posts. I'm introspective by nature; plus, I'm biologically an only child. Therefore, I have no problem thinking my own thoughts to myself for hours on end. But that's not good ALL the time. And that's when I call on my friends. Each is unique in his/her own way, and nothing makes me happier than being intimate with a good friend. My bossom buddies, my roll dogs, the 3 musketettes, ts, asg, sandz, and my ABC3 (ace boon coon from 3 years out tha womb), this is for you. Please accept my appreciation for each and everyone of you in my life. No one could replace any of you, and I thank God I have you.

Sometimes, I want to hate on technology, as I am indeed an "analog girl in a digital world". But if I didn't have the 'net, a telephone - how could I stay connected? Y'all know I'm a recluse! So thanks for checkin' up on me. Thanks for making me smile. I'll try to do better, but until I do, thanks for going the extra mile.

Tonight is ladies night, and we're going to go see Tyler Perry's Why Did I Get Married. I already feel warm and tingly inside in anticipation of the movie, and moreso the discussion that is sure to follow. Hope y'all are doing something fun with your folk - until next time, here are a few jewels I'd like to share:

Make new friends, but keep the old
One is silver, the other gold

Friends are the family we choose for ourselves.

Babies

2007-10-04T17:21:00.000-07:00

What's up with that?

Okay, bad Jerry Seinfield impression.

Anyway, while my initial reaction to the topic of babies was to rant about why so many of my friends - and people in general - are having them at this point in my life, I just can't at the moment. I just read an article about how optimistic people are, needless to say, happier, and can increase their average life span by 7 1/2 years. Active pessimists - the people who complain and rant, criticize, and get people rousted for the fun of it - ironically can do the same. Which, more or less, boils the article down to the fact that regular and energetic social interactions potentially increase a person's life span. And let's face it, we all knew that - right?
Back to the point. The truth is, I don't know how I feel about all these babies. Yesterday, my good friend brought her daughter by for me to see. My, she sure has grown! Such a precious little thing. I can carry her around like a handbag, or a football...in fact I did (it was more comfortable that way because she likes to snap back a lot, and carrying her latitudinally made her kick her little legs like she was swimming - so cute)! When my friend told me she was pregnant a little more than a year ago, I broke out into hysterics. "Everyone is having babies!" I cried. It was insane. What was even more crazed about the situation is that she wasn't even supposed to be able to have children. At least that's what the doctor told her. Thank you modern medicine, but God's gotcha!
My homechick, whom I grew up with since we were about three years old, has a child. The child will grow. It is a person. A person derived from the womb of my good friend and the loins of her deranged baby-daddy. This should be hitting me hard right about now, but it's not. Why? Have I matured and grown to accept that baby-makin' and baby-havin' are just a fact of life for people my age?

Wow.

Maybe.

Still, one of them thangs won't be poppin' out of me!

Not any time soon, anyway.

...somebody go knock on wood so I won't be the victim of another "God's gotcha!" move.

On the Signs of Love

2007-10-02T10:01:00.001-07:00

Ashamedly, I return after four blog posts in the last two months. I will do my best, kind readers, to get my writing act together.

The inspiration for this morning's post comes to you, live, from the zodiac world. While pondering the churning thoughts in the deep, dark recesses of my mind, I stumbled upon my general feelings about people and their signs. In the past, I have been known to peruse the internet for descriptions, qualities, and traits of all twelve of the astrological signs. Somewhere along the way, however, I gave up on "experts'"varying opinions and decided that my own conclusions would suffice - if not suit me better. This decision resulted in the development of my own, personal "guide to the signs". Though this intangible guide only exists in my mind, we can refer to it as Mic's Personal G2S, or we can get creative and Mya Angelou with it and call it, "The Stars in MY Sky". I'll let you choose, but I'm diggin' Mya's version.

After reading this post, you may say to yourself, "Gee, I'd sure like to see Mic's mental guide turned into a real book so that I can go out and purchase it for the super low price of $14.99!" You may not say this. If you don't, I won't be disappointed. In fact, I'd prefer this reaction over the former, because, you see, this is my personal guide. It works for me. It may or may not work for you, but I encourage you to develop your own, if you're interested. The guide's magic and success (at least for me) lies in its departure from the stars. It is based, rather, on personal experiences, my reaction to those experiences, and my analysis of those experiences after time and introspection has distanced me from them. Consequently, the guide is ever-changing; it's always being updated. And let's face it, I have neither the time nor the patience to: first, write the guide, and then discover and publish updates and new editions. Updates and revisions of thought are essential because people change. The more a person is willing to change, the more that person will augment your opinion of him/her, firstly, which will affect and increase resource variety to your personal guide, secondly.

Now for my conclusions, and your sneak peak at "The Stars in MY Sky".

What is up with all the opinions about Pisces??? If you read enough of them you'll think that we're lazy, emotionally dependant, hypersensitive, extremely volatile, surreptitious, depression-prone substance-abusing recluses living in a dreamworld! Is this the case? Sure! Could be! Sometimes! I don't know, you know why? Because we're also known as the most mutable sign! Albert Einstein was a Pisces - was he reclusive and totally off his rocker to develop E+MC squared? Clearly! But that doesn't mean he wasn't gettin' any on the side, because if he was secretive, what are the chances that 1. people would know his business, and 2. that such business would be passed down through history? Alexander Graham Bell, a Pisces, invented the telephone. He had to be crazy to think up a device that allows one to talk to someone who isn't physically there. What sparked the idea? Manic genius, or his emotional dependency on his unknown sweetheart? It doesn't matter! Because both examples show that Pisces are not so defective that we cannot produce, and produce BIG. I've also reasoned that Pisces are most affected and shaped by their environments, which are culturalized, genderized, racialized, and economically stratified on top of being funneled through the perspective of parental guidance and training. ALL SIGNS are subjected to the SAME variables; it is my conclusion, however, that Pisces tend to be the sign that is most reflective of these variables.

I started with Pisces because it is my sign, but know that "The Stars in MY Sky" does not stop there. Take Leos for example. My personal opinion of Leos is as follows: they are outspoken, talkative (sometimes to the point of extreme irritation), optimistic, domineering, ambitious, strong-willed, arrogant-proud-and/or cocky. In the past, I had a tendency not to like Leos, but I have grown to not only like, but appreciate them. Why? Because I found contrasting exceptions to the rule. I know a Leo whom I didn't like at all, that now is one of the sweetest people you'll meet because she went survived a humbling experience that seemed to completely change her perspective on life. Or maybe that's just me. I know other Leos who are weak-willed, and appear to beg for constant validation, rather than assuming and expecting it (as is the internet's "typical" Leo). I know Leos who are quiet and reserved, and who works toward goals like a typical Taurus. I take variances into consideration with every "sign" I meet, because I want to seek out the exceptions.

My reason for doing so stems from my irritation with sign "compatibility". Technically, according to most sites, I am to fair swimmingly - no pun intended - with Scorpios, Cancers, and Capricorns. Every once in a while, a site may suggest that I'll also get along well with fellow Pisces. WRONG. ALL OF IT. Of all the Scorpios I've met, I'm more turned off from them because of their arrogance than Leos. Surprisingly, I'm slightly attracted to Leos because they always seem to be intrigued with me first - that doesn't mean I want a relationship with one, I'm just saying. I can't get to the "oh, so amazing" relationship I'm astrologically supposed to have with Scorpios, because we can barley get past "Hello" before we're offending one another for some reason! I think male Cancers are totally insane. I've never seen people flash like Cancers. Case in point, I told one of my students (my favorite, I'll have you know) that male Cancers are crazy. He's a male Cancer. This was some time ago. Recently, he took a test. He didn't fill in one of the answer boxes. I marked it wrong. He blasted off the hinges, and since then has refused to even look at me. We weren't even in a relationship! I find it comical, indeed...and he always wondered why I thought Cancer guys were crazy....Another example can be found in a Reggae Club I went to once. Cancer man approaches me, and after some conversation gushes that he's a sucker for Pisces women. Here we go... He praises me lavishly: "Oh, you could be a model! You're so beautiful, and kind! We would be great together!" Somewhere in his train of thought, I guess he thought it would impress me if he told me that he could remove the mark of the beast from my forehead. WRONG. Cancer men are crazy. Capricorns are the only ones that seem to match up to the internet zodiac test. I get along with them, and we have good times together. Unfortunately, they have a knack for being unbearably selfish at times. Don't get me wrong, they'll give when they want to, and it'll be all gumdrops and sunbeams, too! But those times are rare....REALLY REALLY RARE. Blockheads, they are. I love my male Capricorn friends - even to this day, but I know, that we're what we are today because I put blood, sweat, and tears into the relationship, even if they were just friendships. Nobody, trust me, has the energy to do that repeatedly in her life. That's why I only have two. And I'm exhausted. I used to think Pisces men were totally boring. I've found an exception to the rule - problem is, he's super hyperactive! Not to mention extremely aggressive, sometimes to the point of brutality. He makes me laugh and the intimacy is boiling hot, but is that enough to sustain a healthy relationship?...Eh...get back to me on that one.

So. If my compatible partners aren't really compatible, what then, do I have? Well, one website seemed to think it was a lonely road in life or multiple marriages - I REFUSE! That is utter nonsense! I do not believe I'm in a dreamworld when I say that by exercising patience and positivity I can meet someone who I'll be compatible with based on both of our experiences, our reaction to those experiences, and our examination of those experiences in retrospect. People change. That is the only constant I see in "The Stars in MY Sky". And as a mutable sign, and more so an introspective person, I know that I can and will change, too. I'm sure those depressed, negative, reclusive, emotionally dependant, super-sensitive tendencies will pop up like mole heads from time to time, but that doesn't mean that I WON'T be equipped with a bopper of experience to smack them back down into their holes (thank you Chuck E. Cheese's. Your arcade games have proven to be influential in life's lessons.)

That said, what do YOU have to say?

i think chris rock's a genius

2007-09-10T18:09:00.000-07:00

no matter what you thought about the movie upon hearing its name, please go see "i think i love my wife", if you haven't already.

chris rock did a wonderful job of writing and directing this movie. save for a few choices in music that i might have changed, everything else was spot on.

i don't even want to tell you what the movie was about, but it almost made me cry - never mind that i was feeling overly emotional in general the day i saw it.

it's a mind movie, one that questions how you think and forces you to empathize and be considerate, unless your an ice cold rock. maybe i shouldn't say that...everyone has his/her own opinion of things. that said, see it any way and disagree with me if you like! it got my creative juices flowing, so who KNOWS what it might do for you!!!

who she think she is???

2007-09-10T17:25:00.000-07:00

my name is mic. i love what i do, and i do it well. what do i do, you ask? i write. i read, i analyze, and i write. that's what i do, and i have become quite proficient over the years. am i the best writer? surely not! am i perfect? no where near! but i know my strengths, and writing is one - my strongest, i think.

so when i was offered the opportunity to teach a class at my new job - a charter high school with a work program attached to it - i was ecstatic! oh sure, i'd follow the rules and make sure students worked on what they needed to graduate...eventually, but i was more so excited about helping young people find their voices.

the first couple of classes flew by. they were lively and energetic; i had lots of participation, lots of energy, and lots of empty seats. five of fourteen students showed up. this didn't stop me one bit, however. in fact, i took it as a blessing, as a way to warm up to a handful of students before an entire 14 distracted me. this blessing was short lived.

today, i had the best attendance ever - half the class showed up! among them, was a young lady whom i had met earlier on in the summer...and she wouldn't stop talking. before class started, she told me what she would be working on for the duration of the class. mind you, i had lectured according to a class schedule the two class before this one, and i had prepared something for this class as well. but feeble attendance gnawed at my willpower. unfortunately, it also gnawed at my irritation levels. who did this little girl, who i just helped with the math portion of the high school exit exam this past summer, think she was? talking about her class schedule hadn't changed in year so she didn't know she had class - nonsense. so i told her, okay - do what you like. you haven't been here, work on what you've already gotten started on. but then she wanted to ask for my help, "oh no. i'm not focusing on that today, so you won't be getting any help from me." so she gets her little...or not so little, sassy behind up and struts off, calling behind her that she's going to tell my boss i won't be helping her. that's fine, i smirk to myself. trust, i feel confident enough in my position to know where i am. everyone, up until this point has endured, if not thoroughly enjoyed my class. funny how she came back to class with nothing more to say on the topic. that didn't stop her from talking though. ugh.

on top of that, some gentlemen appeared in my class ubber late. as i was walking out to get a hole punch for a student, i pass by him. "hi, what's your name?" he tells me. "oh, it's a good thing you said something, you would've been marked absent otherwise," i offer rather drolly. "well everybody in here knows who i am." he retorted just as dryly. "i don't know you." it was a simple, and true statement. of course, it was also perfect feeding grounds for miss sassy pants who didn't miss the opportunity to pounce, "oooh! she said she didn't know you. that's okay, we know you." unfortunately, you knowing him doesn't count toward his attendance i thought. he didn't reply to her either. very smart, young man. in fact, i think she was truly annoying us all, but that could've been me.

a few of the students who had been with me from the beginning were having trouble with an assignment i had given them, so i decide to set my mood aside and help them out. as i did, my old hyperactive personality came back, and they began to crack smiles and nod their heads in understanding. sassy pants still tried to distract, but like a venus fly trap, my prey was caught in the strength of my jaws and the power of my words. and that made me feel good.

i realized that i am more than willing to meet those who want to make the smallest effort. i'll work with those who really want to learn something beyond the dumbed down formula of how one is supposed to think, even if they don't know it yet. when it came time for class to be wrapping up, i noticed that most of the other students were intrigued by what i was discussing with the select two. at first, i didn't want to pull the two aside because i feared it would cause jealousy - and maybe it did. but it looked like they might have been hungry for the food in my bag - not that edible food - no. Food for thought. At that moment i decided to be more prepared for wednesday's class; to lay down the law like i did on class days one and two, and to keep it crackin'. cause even if there's only one, that one is worth it. it was around this time that miss sassy whispered under her breath something to the effect of, "i dont' know who she thinks she is!"

"it's a good thing i do, miss sassy," i smirked to myself again, "so don't even worry about it." my name is mic. i love what i do, and i do it well.

Jus' Visitin'

2007-08-19T16:43:00.000-07:00

This weekend I made plans to visit a friend who will be leaving the country in a few days. The visit was absolutely necessary, since this particular friend has visited me quite a few times without the favor being returned. So I made the hour long drive to her pad, ready for whatever - or so I thought.

Nobody who's not from this place, is not ready for this place. Seriously. Now, homechick and I have been through our share of good times. We know how to make a crazy-fun situation out of nothing. But this place was literally off the charts, and I didn't know whether or not we'd be able to come through this time. Nevertheless, I had to suck it up and bear it because it was only fair.

By the time I finally made it to her house, around 10:30p, I was already on edge. The dark, winding roads of death were enough to make anyone with sense turn around and go home. Unfortunately, there was no turning back for me. I was about 45 minutes into the trip, and another 15 couldn't kill me...I hoped. Good thing I took her home one time after she visited me, otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to find her spot. Not only are there no lights on the highway, there are hardly any in the little town where she lives. On top of that, there is no sign for the street on which she lives. AND I was dealing with that time of the month again? Y'all KNOW I was pissed. But I made it...all in one piece, to boot.

Well, the plans for the evening were set: we were going out. I was cool as long as I didn't have to drive, and that was already taken care of. A couple of her friends were already at the house waiting for her to get out of the shower. When we all were dressed and ready to go, finally, we made our way "Downtown", which, I kid you not, reminded me of Disneyland's "It's A Small World". First stop, The RED Room. I was skeptical. This place looked like a broke motel straight out of a scary movie. My friend tried to reassure me, but my face told her I wasn't having it. But I'm not a punk, so....

Inside, we were greeted by a huge room filled with mismatched sofas, love seats, and chairs. Oh, and Coolio's "Gangsta's Paradise" was seeping from the speakers. Gangsta's Paradise??? Now all hope that this could get better was immediately deflated. All I knew was that I needed my signature DiSorono on the rox, stat. At the overcrowded bar, a man felt perfectly comfortable reaching over us, armpits all in our faces. Yes, they were kinda funky. 'What is this place?' I thought to myself. Then it came to me: Hogwarts. We were at the Three Broomsticks! Either that, or Geek Fest.

Next stop: Vida. I have to admit, this place was happnin' - just a lil' bit. The decor was more upscale, the crowd a little more posh than the jeans & t-shirts at the Red Room. But the dance floor, which was directly in front of the entrance, couldn't have been bigger than ten feet squared. (Another DiSorono, please.) Clearly, this was a restaurant turned night club, that only had enough space to be one or the other. Not both. As we made are way from the overcrowded dance floor to the back of the building where the bathrooms were located, some chick decided to push her way past us; she was going in the opposite direction. My friend, happily inebriated, shoved her back. Hard. And then looked at the girl...combatively. I pushed her toward the bath room before anything erupted and ruined our night. My second DiSorono had something floating in it, and by the time I got a refill, I had to down it because Club Vida was closing down. Why? I don't know. It wasn't later than 12:30a.

Next door was our final destination: Rosie's. Gross. The floor? Sticky, grimy, wet...gross. But at least they had a dance floor in another room. We went there after I finished my 3rd DiSorono. We danced for about 10 minutes before the music stopped. Apparently, Rosie's closes at 1a. Wow. Aren't bars supposed to be open until 2a? At this point, I didn't care. I just kept on dancing (to no audible music) until a security guard came to escort us out of the building. We all walked back to the car, and DiSorono was telling me I was having a good time, that the party wasn't REALLY over. My friend felt exactly the same way, so we got dropped off at a hookah lounge. Great! I'm buzzin, and it'll be my first time trying hookah! What could go wrong?

Well, nothing, really - not when you have a chemical chill helping you out. But if you are heavily intoxicated - and loving it - it's essential that you protect it. Which is what we had to do, because some brothas from Day County, FL were essentially off the chain. I told one that he had nice teeth - which he did, perfectly straight, pearly and white. He told me I shouldn't be looking at his clothes, shoes, or his teeth; I should be looking at his eyes. (Oh brother!) Okay, sir, whatever. Then I went outside to talk to his friend, who DiSorono told me was kind of cute. He's easy to talk to, but we don't chat for long because the other guy came out and told him not to talk to me. Are you serious? Fine. It was hookah time, anyway.

So my friend and I are draggin' on some cantaloupe smoke, when the two of them came over to talk to us. They're trying to be all deep, telling us what we should and shouldn't look for in men, etc. We're letting them, because in reality...we don't care one way or another. Then the guy who was kinda cute asked if he could share the hook - we let him. But can you tell me how that translates to other people sharing as well??? A group of people swarmed over to our pipe like ants and began taking hits. I asked bruh man (fif flo) what the hell his problem was. And do you know he had the nerve to get offended? I mean, offended to the point where he was calling us college girls all kinds of tricks and hos because we were NOT street smart. BOOK SMARTS DIDN'T MEAN NOTHIN, AND IF HIS HOMEGIRLS WERE HERE HE'D CALL THEM UP TO COME BEAT US UP. SIR. ARE YOU SERIOUS? So my friend got in his face, and I let her this time, because frankly, this man was clinically touched, and I wasn't going to allow is imbalance to shake my buzz. Eventually, he left - AFTER he tried to get in my face 'cause I was laughing at his sorry ass. I blew smoke in his face, thinkin' I was Snoop or somebody, and kept it pushin'.

Overall, we had a good time. But I honestly wasn't ready. The rest of the weekend was more chillax, and I appreciated it. It's a great place for reflection, but if I had to live here, there's nothing to say that I wouldn't suffer from severe alcoholism, depression, and suicidal tendencies. People stay drunk and high here, and I can see why. That's not how I choose to live my life, so while it may be cool for recreation, it's definitely not a way to live. I give my friend props for making it so far, and hopes she enjoys the hell out of her time in Brazil.

holleren.

because it tickles me

2007-08-07T16:39:00.000-07:00

believe it or not, i was planning to be deep on this post. normally, i don't PLAN to be deep, it happens or it doesn't. but the dreary weather had me thinking intensely as my hands performed the mindless work of basic data entry. (that's why i love my job, by the way. no two days are the same!)

so i was planning to be all deep, maybe discuss this abnormally large banana i bought during lunch, but then i got this brilliant idea! you see, i had to email a person in the office to put in an order for poster-size post-it paper. i always feel bad emailing my requests, one - because it seems more logical to just walk to his office and ask; and two - because there's no reciprocity on my part. (for those of you asking why i DON'T just go over to his office and make my requests, well...usually my boss says, "just email..." and i feel compelled to do so. i try to be an obedient employee.)

anyway, my brilliant idea ignites itself while i was thinking of how to politely phrase the email. "i'll send him a joke at the end!" not a crazy joke - but a good, wholesome harmless joke. excited about the plan, i immediately jump on google to find some random, genereic - yet office appropriate - jokes. when i landed on one entitled "how to have fun at work", i laughed so hard i almost cried, which brought my co-worker over to see what all the hilarity was about.

he read through the list in almost utter silence, save for a couple polite chuckles at the first few items - but those were half-hearted, at best. slightly perplexed, i looked through the list again; sure enough, i was laughing so hard i simultaneously felt embarrased at the fact that i probably looked like a cackling idiot. i covered my face with my hands and tried to stifle the heaving in my chest, before apologizing.

for some reason, stupid jokes REALLY CRACK ME UP! i'm not talking about nasty or semi-offensive jokes, nor am i referring to those jokes that are really weak, watered-down riddles in poor disguise. jokes that are easy to figure out are also offed the list (though some of the jokes i find to be riotous probably border on this category, the difference is that the response is so random and/or wacky, the average person most likely wouldn't think of it until they were smacked with the obviousness of it).

i'll give an example. while surfing jokes on yahoo! kids, the joke at the top of the list read, "what color is a burp?"

my reaction: what?! that's crazy - how can a burp have a color when it's simply gas being expelled from the body? (i kno.. please forgive my over-analysis... it shamed me as well.)

again: "what color is a burp?".... the answer: "burple!"

okay...so when i first saw that, i was honestly disgusted. what ridiculousness! but real talk, no more than 5 seconds passed before i was laughing my head off! i couldn't understand it myself! notice how that one bordered on just plain dumb. in fact, it IS just plain dumb, but it's also hilarious because someone just came up with a wacky answer that sort of sticks, but not really! okay... you can't really go into in-depth analysis with these because that's what makes them funny. they're simple.

examples of bad jokes:

"why was Tigger looking in the toliet?" answer: "he was looking for Pooh!"
> i don't like this joke! it's mean! i get it, but seriously, that's just nasty and mean as far as Winnie the Pooh is concerned.

"why do squirrels swim on their backs?" answer: "to keep their nuts dry!"
> again, inappropriate and simply not funny! where's the thought behind this joke - i know, there is none!

"why did the banker freeze his money?" answer: "because he wanted cold hard cash!"
> oh wow! real genius - not. it's just a bit too literal.

and we've all heard the zebra one - "what's black and white and red all over?" please. is this even logical? nobody cares!

so my co-worker looks at me - i'm still chortling, mind you - and says, "man, i guess you really do like stupid jokes. well here's a stupid one for ya: 'knock, knock...' (me: "who's there?") 'interrupting cow.' ("interrupting co -") 'MOOOOOO!!!!!'"
y'all...i was ON THE FLOOR!!!! i don't know why!!!! i know part of the reason has to do with the way a joke is told, but really, some of these jokes live on long after a person's voice has vanished from my mind.

"what did the blind ship-mate say to the captain?" answer: "eye-eye captain!" truthfully i feel dumb even writing this one, but every time i retell it i can't control myself! it makes no sense at all!

alas, though i probably don't have the slightest shred of dignity left in any of your eyes, i will leave you with a personal favorite. my aunt told it to me years ago, when she came home from work one day. it goes something like this:

a woman once gave birth to a baby who had an actual button where his belly button should have been. the woman expressed her concerns to the doctor, who was just as perplexed. finally he came to a conclusion, "just don't touch it," he said. "don't let the child touch it, either."

the woman left the hospital and raised the child as if he were completely normal. over the years, the boy would occasionally ask about the button, but his mother would always reprimand him, repeating the doctor's order. the child was a good boy, so he obeyed his mother, but this didn't help or sooth his growing curiosity. time continued to pass. the boy went through adolescence and soon reached adulthood. by this time, he had seen other people's stomachs in locker rooms and raunchy videos, and he noticed that his stomach was different from all those he saw. still, he heeded his mother's words and left the button alone, but temptation was growing stronger. the guy reached manhood; he was the ripe ol' age of 30. he was single and lived alone, afraid and embarrassed about anyone finding out about the button on his stomach. finally, he had had enough. "i'm going to push this button!" he said. "nothing's going to happen! i've been living my life in fear, and for what? well no more!" he exclaimed. the man took a deep breath, raised his finger high above his head, brought it swiftly down, and pushed the button, once and for all.

and then his butt fell off.

All I'm sayin is...

2007-07-25T17:35:00.000-07:00

Me and my girl E. Badu seem to always be on the same wavelength! I don't know if it's a 2 fish thing or what! Now, I personally thought the woman went a little crazy after the Benjamin Andre break-up fiasco; some of her music went way out yonder, if you know what I mean. But, whenever I'm feeling in a particular mood, she usually voices and expresses it EXACTLY how I'm feeling it! That's saying a lot, since I take pride in being able to articulate myself to a tee. However, I've discovered that articulating isn't necessarily communicating, and E. Badu has a layered, creative way of communicating me. Her technique is perfect, because it forces you listen between the lyrics (the audio way of reading between the lines - but only if you want to.

I could give an example with the track "Green Eyes" off the Mama's Gun album. She sings: "My eyes are green, cuz I eat a lot of vegetables. I don't have nothin' to do with your new friend." Man! I asked a handful of people what that meant to them and NO ONE came up with what I felt was the right answer. Technically speaking, there probably is no "RIGHT" answer. But to me the message was clear: the lyrics are making excuses - flimsy as they may be - for jealousy. There is an essence of false bravado in the need to explain (enviously) green eyes, and apathy in the vernacularly flippant "it don't have nothin' to do with your new friend". I could go on, but "Green Eyes" is not what I want to discuss in this post. Yet, before I move on, I will say that the meaning of these lyrics came to me only after I had listened to the song a number of times because I was jealous of a friend's "new friend". Though I felt exposed when the light finally came on, I was also able to envoke the cathartic vibes and move on after listening to it just a few more times.

Well, turns out, E. Badu was on my mind and playing on my lips as I scraped my way through the last couple of hours of work. The song: "I want you". I mean, real talk, it was bumpin' in my chest and I had no choice but to allow its release as a whisper on my lips. It made me think of a certain individual, but I felt strange because any romantic feelings for this individual have been dead and buried for quite a while. I thought it strange then, that this person would drift to the forefront of my thoughts while this particular song was in my soul. So, being the alum from the #1-research-institution-in-the-country that I am, I googled the lyrics. The mellow grooves and sounds of Badu amplified in my ears as I read through the words. "I I I I I I I want you you you you you you you, oh I I I I I I I" and so on. I mean, for real y'all, this song begins on a heart beat and pulsates the whole way through - which is probably why it logded so deep within me. So I'm reading through, feeling almost as satisfied as if I had listened to the song when I get to the end. Do you KNOW what the last lyrics are??? (I SWEAR I'VE NEVER HEARD HER SAY THIS, and I HAVE to go home and listen to double check):

Just because I tell you I love you
Don’t mean that I do do do do do

I'M SO SERIOUS! And again, THIS IS EXACTLY HOW I FEEL. Want does not equal love! And I must say that I have been guilty of saying "I love you" just because I WANTED someone (and I know I'm not the only one - fellas)! Man...all I'm sayin is....that's DEEP. Word up to E.

holleren.

Make You Feel That Way...

2007-07-23T16:42:00.000-07:00

Last night I decided to serenade myself to sleep with familiar tunes on my Ipod. I got the idea on the ride to a friend's house when Janet Jackson's "Anytime, Anyplace" came on the radio. As the mellow groove filled the car with Janet sensually cooing versus and chorus, I thought to myself, "This HAS to be one of my favorite songs of ALL TIME." And that made me think: songs don't make me feel like this anymore - and I'm not specifically talking about feeling sensual and/or erotic and orgasmic. I'm talking about songs that touch your core each and EVERY single time it's played. I remember a few years ago, when "Anytime, Anyplace" was on a J.J. CD a friend of mine burned for me. I had the song on repeat in my CD player until I fell asleep, and that took at least 6 times. However, each time, a different image or scenario played through my head, all acting as escorts to preface my dreams. I never got tired of that song - obviously.

The point is, few songs make me feel that way any more. And I'm wondering if it's because I'm getting older and I only think that songs from "the good ol'" days of my youth qualify as superior music. But then, that can't be it. I'm not THAT old, dag nab it! Plus, I'm not saying that good songs aren't produced anymore. There is still good music hitting the scenes - if you can find it. The problem is, if something IS really good, the radio has a tendency to play it out before you can really digest it, ruining the whole experience. For example, when Outkast came out with their doppelganger album Speakerboxxx/The Love Below, I listened to Andre Benjamin (bka Andre 3000/ Benjamin Andre and ska Possom Allouicious Andre 3000)constantly and continuously for an entire semester. Each song received extended play in its proper time. Then when "Hey Ya!" came out as a music video and on the radio, I could have puked. Repeatedly. It was too much.

The same was true for Alicia Keys' song "If I Ain't Got You". I LOVED that song, it almost made me cry every single time I heard it. Then it came on the radio and sounded...different. Not as good. It soon lost it's flare and pizazz. That is until I heard it on the radio last week. In that brief moment, I was able to relive my love of the song when I first bought the album, The Diary of Alicia Keys.

It all boils down to Making the Band 4, really, and Diddy specifically. It's not all him, but since he's blown himself up to grandiose, massive proportions he'll serve as a more than suitable example. I'm not going to lie, I'm following "Makin' the band 4 - we in the do'!" because of its sheer ridiculousness. While it's on, I call my friend so many times during the show that I'm sure she wants to disown me. But she always answers, and I thank her for that, because I would not be able to knowingly watch that mess alone - it would just be wasted hilarity. Back to the topic at hand, it's all about the promotion and the person the "super star!" attitude, not about the music - I feel. And it's so easy to get caught up, that one is usually sacrificed for the other, and music quality usually gets the boot.

I mean really, take "Can you stand the rain?" for example. Sheer perfection. Yet Diddy allowed some of these cats remain on the show, knowing FULL WELL the brothas couldn't sing?! Rick James would say that that's "COLD. BLOODED." Hardly ANY of those new cats had anything on the old bruhs! And don't put my boy MIKE on the spot like that just cause he's "Big Country", the boy can SANG, ya heard me?! What about Jazz from Dru Hill??? He wasn't fine, but by the way he acted you probably couldn't tell him that.

I'm getting off topic again. Sincerest apologies. I guess we've got to roll with what we got nowadays - I surely can't sing, so y'all can't look to me for the answer. Thank goodness I have Janet at the click of a button on my "pod", otherwise, the world might be in some serious trouble.

holleren.

Um...shake, rattle, and roll...

2007-07-20T19:52:00.000-07:00

Went the earth this morning at 4:42a. A jolt shook me out of my slumber and into heart-gripping, mind-racing panic that blasted flashbacks of Northridge January 1994 through my brain as I watched the dark walls of my apartment sway violently back and forth.

Even in this moment of horror, I managed to go through a sequence of thoughts that went a little something like this:

1. ...have mercy, God have mercy...LORD HAVE MERCY!
2. the doorjamb - right there. am i gonna have to sit there? is it going to be THAT bad? doorjamb...
3. where is my bra?! might have to evacuate the building - Northridge January 1994, people were outside surveying the damage...might have to get out....where's my bra?! i can't be swangin' in an emergency!
4. DOORJAMB!
5. shoes...can i run outside barefooted? my life...OH GOD HAVE MERCY! IT'S '94 ALL OVER AGAIN!

By this time, the quaking had stopped. It didn't last that long; during the entire thing I was staring at the walls holding onto my sheets for dear life thinking thoughts 1-5.

6. (still frozen in terror)...this is just the beginning...the big one is coming after this....HAVE MERCY! I gotta use the bathroom before it starts shaking again and brakes the pipes!

Ten minutes after this last thought, I had used the bathroom, regained my bearings, and turned on the television to see what the news was saying about the event. I was secretly hoping someone would call me to alarmedly demand - DID YOU FEEL THAT?! but no one did, and I had to take solace in the phone calls newscasters were taking live on the air.

now some people were just outrageous with their descriptions. when it was announced that the quake registered at 4.2 I felt that that was as pretty reasonable and accurate reading, but you wouldn't think that with some of the calls coming in that went a little something like this:

random man from nearby area: YEP, IT WAS PRETTY BIG. ALL MY STUFF FELL OFF MY COUNTERS AND SHELVES, N' STUFF. I WAS THERE, AND MY DOG WAS RIGHT THERE WITH ME, HOWLING. THIS WAS A BIG ONE!

random woman from nearby area: I WAS UP ALREADY BECAUSE I WAS MOVING MY NEIGHBORS CAR. THE QUAKE WAS SO BIG, IT KNOCKED ME OFF MY FEET! I GUESS IT WAS BECAUSE I WAS STILL HALF ASLEEP!

random woman from not-so-nearby area: I WAS AWAKE DRINKING COFFEE. THE EARTHQUAKE WAS A BIG ROLLING ONE AND IT LASTED FOR A FEW SECONDS - ALMOST A MINUTE!

AND, a random coffee/doughnut shop's window was blown out with some doughnuts on the shaken up and on the ground (LIVE COVERAGE).

please bear with me and imagine my disgust at these gross exaggerations, at least that's how I felt until I realized that different areas will feel the quake differently. nothing moved off my shelves or counters...nothing really moved or fell at all, really - even the things already on the floor (like my high top shoes, one of which was standing before and after the quake) and the epicenter was in MY area!!!! i mean really, what are people doing up at 4a drinking coffee and moving NEIGHBORS' cars when they're still HALF ASLEEP?! that made me wonder at the sanity of world. now I had enough time to lie in bed petrified and go through 5 panic-stricken thoughts. trust me, had the quake been any bigger and/or any longer than the few seconds it lasted I would not be watching the news still barefoot and braless 10 minutes later! from someone speaking from the standpoint of the epicenter, the quake was big enough to wake you up and scare you almost to death. that's it. but that's just me.

I went to bed about 45 minutes later (I still had to go to work later in the morning) still thinking that the BIG ONE was yet to come. The news kept talking about after shocks, but I believed that Mr. 4.2 was a foreshock, and wondered at the shaky commentary of a National Geologist caller who knew less than the newscasters reading off the teleprompter. I thought to myself, someone will call me later this morning or today to ask me about the quake, and it'll probably be a big topic at work. I'll have to leave for work early because this'll probably cause traffic somehow. But when I got to work almost an hour late (I overslept), hardly anyone was there besides the receptionist and myself. And nobody called me to asak about anything.

When I finally got home and settled back into bed for a nap around 5:45p I thought myself, "What a strange day and time we live in where we have distinct, sizable earthquakes and everyone acts like it's a regular day." I dozed off...

I don't know how long I had been asleep before....

RUUUMMBLE RUUMMBLE RUMMBLE!!!!!!!!!!!!

and I was awake again, wondering how an aftershock a little over 12 hours later found me in the EXACT same position and frame of mind....

Again...What A Pain!!!

2007-07-17T17:26:00.000-07:00

Did I mention I've spent more than half the day with my pants unbuttoned and unzipped under my polo shirt?

Yeah...it's like that.

What A Pain!!!

2007-07-17T16:39:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry, but whose idea was it to designate the woman to bear some of the most excruciating pain life can dole out??? This is not a crack on the creator - oh no. We're not even going to blame Eve for this one - everyone makes mistakes. If anything, Adam should be blamed. Who thinks about being lonely in paradise??? Especially when you have all these animals around! For all we know they were probably talking back then....shooot....

Anyway, the circle of life made its rounds today, and I started the process all over again. I sensed it was coming, as I normally do, and came to work prepared with good, healthy food, a gallon of Alhambra and my wonderful little bottle of Naproxen pain killers. Shot out to J. Nicole who put me up on game. Around lunch time I got that kinda queasy feeling I hate so much. So I popped a blue pill and started diggin' into the salad I brought. I even went out and bought some watermelon for good measure. Maybe I took the pill too early, because I am now staring at the digital clock at the bottom of my computer trying not to cry out in pain. Moments ago, my boss came in to discuss more of my responsibilities with me. The actress in me had to play it cool...HOW TORTUROUS! THEN one of the guys I went out on crew with decided to stop by. I haven't seen him since last week, so I really wanted to welcome him in - but there was no time. He was already making himself comfortable and initiating conversation. Great. At least it was a way to pass the time.

But now it's starting to kick in full blast. I'm tempted to take another pill, but I don't want to pass out before it's time for me to leave, or when I'm behind the wheel for that matter. That's okay...cause I got a nice pint of my favorite ice cream (which was on sale yesterday) waiting to welcome me home.

This is not cool. If men had to deal with this every month they would have dropped off the face of the earth ages ago. And let's not even get into child birth. PUH-LEASE. They better have me UNCONSCIOUS with RNs working hard to PUSH the baby out in lieu of my contractions. That's if we even get that far. I'm really trying to hang in here, y'all, but it's so tough! I know y'all know what I'm talking about - I know you do! Good grief! Feel like I'm about to start sweating! Women shouldn't have to work on this "special" day - and who said it was special anyway??? Just because it's a sign that I can regenerate? Please. Ann Frank killed me when she was fondly brooding over her first menses. I wanted to slap the girl - she was tough though. Must not have been that bad for her, cause when I was her age I was screamin' like a banshee - and it WASN'T dramatics, contrary to what my mom tried to have me believe.

Please.

Like I don't know what I'm feeling in my own body. How you gon' tell someone - a child, for that matter - that "it can't be that bad". Um. Yes. Yes it CAN. And you know what I was thinkin' y'all? Not only do we gotta put up with biological foolishness, but then we gotta deal with the foolishness of everybody else! And we gotta do it with a smile on our faces or else we might incur curious minds who can't help the situation!

I really need it to be 5:30p y'all. Like NOW. Almost there. I could tell you about my bogus dentist appointment...but I just can't! I don't have the patience to type AND deal with the pain. I'm going to go waste time some other way.

holleren.

Get it right, get it tight!

2007-07-12T17:24:00.000-07:00

I don't do New Year's resolutions. It just seems like something people do strictly so they can fall off and make a new resolution having something to do with the old resolution the following year. However, for 2007 I made three goals for myself, threes areas of my life that I determined to improve. One of those areas was health.

Diabetes, Heart Disease, and Hypertension run in my composite families, as is the case with many African Americans. My father died of a massive heart attack just a few years ago when I was 15 years old. He died just days before his 51st birthday. As I've gotten older, I've come to realize how young 50 and 51 really are. Anyway, I'm not here to jerk tears outta ya; the point is, because of this and overall displeasure at the way my body feels and functions, I made it a point to make health a point.

The year started out really well, few days went by without me getting some sort of physical activity that forced me to exert myself for at least 30 minutes. I was making better food choices too! Trying to get in a salad or some vegetables at least once a day. This may be shocking to some of you, but hey, I like sweets and most veggies aren't sweet. Fruit has never been a problem, but veggies...they're good, they're just not the first thing I grab for when I open the fridge. So these were some of the changes I made, and technically, I accomplished my goal - sort of. The essence of the goal was to make changes that would eventually effect the rest of my life.

Unfortunately, I've recently dropped to an all-time binging low. I'm talking no physical activity whatsoever; health and wholeness are completely out the door. I really feel like I'm falling down a well in slow motion, losing the good grasp I had at making better, healthier choices. I know it's wrong, but I felt I couldn't help myself! Until today.

This morning, I woke up at 6:30a. And though I worked overtime on my new job yesterday, I didn't fall asleep AT ALL when I got home, until it was time for bed. I began to feel excited as my body evidenced its environmental adjustment to being exposed to more scenes than just my apartment living room, bedroom, and bathroom (yeah...it's been like THAT for the past few weeks....y'all KNOW I was on a downward spiral - especially since I was watching Food Network most of the day). So when I arose, I said to myself. This marks a new day. Back to the old plan!

I didn't think it would be that bad - just two weeks ago, I ran half my regular route - which is saying a lot since I hadn't run in Lord knows how long before that. But when I hit the OG (original gangsta) route this morning - I'm talking the one I did right after I made my New Year's goals (it was easy/hard enough to get my lazy butt in motion without overdoing it) - I almost passed out! But you know what? It felt good, too! It almost felt as if my body was saying "Thank you! Why have you rejected me all this time??? This is what I was born to do" even though my lungs were like... "Yeah, girl....keep pushin' us and see what happens...uh huh...it's lights out in 5...4...3..."

And even when I went to the store the other day with the honest intent to load up on the world's worst, most dangerous goodies, I only walked out with a box of Cheez-Its and a couple boxes of My Little Pony and Care Bear fruit snacks, which I swore to myself I wouldn't eat all at once - and I haven't! I also walked out with some Raisin Bran, bananas, and a cucumber. That just goes to show that those choices in the beginning of the year paid off, and are still working - YES!

The moral of the story is...get it right, get it tight! Maybe not today, or in a week, or even in a month, but if you gradually work towards a goal - even off and on - you're bound to reach it! OR your body will kill you.

holleren.

in the field

2007-07-10T22:31:00.000-07:00

the second day of work got off to a somewhat rocky start, but it picked up quickly. i woke up a little late, which caused me to be slightly late for work - but only by a couple of minutes. today, i had to be at work by 7:15a because i was going out in the field with the corps members. unfortunately, i couldn't get to sleep until after 2a, which means i had less than 5 hours of sleep. that and a full day of manual labor did not sound like it was going to go too well together. good thing life isn't in my hands, because the day went fabulously! i met, joked with and worked with a crew of corps members. it made me feel comfortable with the students (synonymous with corps members) i am going to be working with soon.

anyway, i'm so exhausted from the day that i'll have to share the details at a later date. right now, i gotta submit to the schedule of a working woman, and head to bed so i can get up and go to work in the morning.

my first day of work

2007-07-09T20:42:00.000-07:00

was good! albeit i was EXTREMELY tired most of the day. i guess i gotta join the masses, cut out television and any other form of weekly activity, and just go to sleep when i get home from work - after eating of course. tomorrow, i have to be at work extra early because i'm going out into the "field" which means i'll be doing the service work that the students/corps members do year-round. that'll better help me understand their position when i start working with them in august. however, when i got to work this morning - ON TIME @ 9A ON THE DOT! (WOO HOO!) - a sudden rush of excitement washed over me. i think i really will like working here, and as i get more comfortable and confident with my position as well as my coworkers and the corps members, it may turn out to be quite a wonderful relationship.

i have my own pretty huge cubicle. at first, i thought i'd be sharing it with a corpsmember intern, and i was kinda looking forward to that, but by the end of the day she was moving over to the adjacent cubicle. i guess more filing cabinets will be moving over to my space in place of her. anyway...it's a fresh...well...i'll make it fresh...space in which to begin. all i need is some cloth...a plant...some posters and/or pictures. and it's all to the good. extra added bonus: WATER COOLERS! YES!!! for those of you who know me well enough to know that i usually tote a gallon of water around with me, know how excited i really am! anyway, i'll keep you all posted as time progresses....i have NO idea HOW i'm going to continue with the dance classes i've started (ballet included, and thinking about an Afro-Brasilian class @ the Y) if i keep being this tired. can someone send me a bottle of vitamin B complex, please??? now i have no choice but to start working out. otherwise, i'll continue to have trouble making it through the day!

everything happens for a reason...

on demand

2007-06-28T22:44:00.000-07:00

shot out to all my peoples working extra hard on the job or at school. i really appreciate each and every one of you who continue to read my posts - even if you don't comment. it imbibes me with purpose!

because i was so sore and stiff yesterday, i think my body did its best to recover by making me sleepy....so i would have no choice but to do a lot of sleeping. well, all that day sleeping along with an evening 2 hour nap meant that i was up until dawn this morning. i thought about reading...but i had done that between my day naps, so i turned on the tele!

this is when i decided to flip through the on-demand movies to see what i could see. i chose freedom writers because i had bad-mouthed the film when it came out and i wanted to see if it lived up to my accusations. it did.

the story takes place in long beach, and is more or less reminiscent of dangerous minds - except i like hillary swank better than i like michelle phifer. there were countless scenes where kids were fighting for simply no reason! now, i'm not from long beach, so maybe i'm just not in the know like that. but for real? people were gettin' beat down for LOOKS alone. "home gurl looked @ our turf! let's jump her!" "that dude PASSED us - let's jump him!" i have a hard time believing this. i do believe that these students have hard lives for various reasons, but i have a hard time believing that they were united after being educated about the holocaust. are you serious??? maybe i'm taking my education for granted here, but logically - if i'm a daily survivor of gang warfare, i might empathize with the story of ann frank and other holocaust survivors, but i doubt that i'd put their circumstances over mine.

it just bothered me that these students were brought together through the enlightenment of a history other than their own. it didn't make any sense. for the class to be as diverse as it was, i was expecting to learn about the tragedies in cambodia and salvador or something along with the traditional stories of slavery. but slavery didn't even enter the film! just civil rights....yeah...i mean...it was a feel good flick, but they stretched it a bit too far for my taste. especially the part when a young man stood up and told the woman who housed ann frank that she was his hero....excuse me??? i just didn't see the connection. it seemed a little far-fetched. but i'm open to criticism. if you've seen it, let me know what you think.

holleren.

...sore...

2007-06-27T19:17:00.000-07:00

o, sure! the african dance class seemed like a great idea at the time - heck! it was even fun! but nowhere did it say, nor did anyone tell me that you would wake up the next morning completely PARALYZED!

my body aches SO bad! and to top it off, i can't seem to find my house key from last night. i removed it from my chain, attached it to a safety pin, and pinned it to my bag for easy access last night after class. i guess that wasn't the brightest idea. after spending 30 minutes looking for it this morning, i called my part time gig - which comes to a close this week - to tell them i wouldn't be able to make it in today....because i can't find my friggin' house key. this is ridiculous. it HAS to be around here somewhere! i've tried re-tracing my steps and all that jazz, but my apartment is only so big so....WHERE IS IT???

this is pretty wack. i wanted to continue the work out plan and run this morning, but it just wasn't possible. i guess it's better in the long run. when you haven't worked out for a while, you're supposed to ease back into it. and you're not supposed to work the same muscle group everyday anyway....but really...WHO CARES?! it's summer time! everybody wants to look good no matter what the cost!

but honestly...all i really could do was sleep most of today. i wanted to head to the library to grab another book - even though i'm not done with the one i'm currently reading - but it's just not possible. tomorrow is a new day. i have a dentist appointment and i have to get tested for TB for the new job. i'm sure it'll be a great day. for now...i must acquiesce as a prisoner of my own home and enjoy another episode of Top Chef @ 10p. good night, all.

Dance Class

2007-06-26T22:05:00.000-07:00

The cultural experience hasn't stopped, y'all. Somethin' - musta' been the Lord - got me up this morning and had me attempt to run the route I usually walk with my friend. Recently, she's been staying late at work and I have accordingly maximized on the opportunity NOT to walk or get any other form of exercise. Bad. I know. Previously, I had been able to run the route. However, that was quite a while ago. So I guess I chose this morning to see how terrible I had gotten. Surprisingly, I haven't gotten that bad at all! I ran about half the route and then veered off the path to look for this local performing arts center. I've wanted to try an African dance class for a while, but I just haven't had the time. The thought popped into my head and I followed it. I discovered that the ONLY beginning West African dance class was offered on Tuesday evenings from 7:30p - 9p. Perfect. I had to go. And thank goodness for student discounts!

For $10 I had the work out of my life! I invited a couple other friends to go, but they couldn't for varying reasons. No matter. Because the city is so close-knit, a familiar face walked through the door just before the class started. Turns out, you really don't need anyone but yourself; honestly, that's the only person I could focus on the entire class - besides the instructor. I'm sure I looked a fool trying to keep up, but I think I did alright for my first African dance class ever. It takes A LOT of energy - I got dizzy a couple of times, but I hung in there....because it was fun!....

And because I was diggin' one of the drummers. Every glance I got, whenever he was playing, his eyes were wide and fierce. He looked at each of the dancers as if for a few moments he was only playing for them. Of course, with my wild imagination, that rocketed me into some little fantasy. Every time he stared at me while I was dancing, trying to keep up with the moves, I imagined myself in the bush of some African village dancing some ceremonial dance. The dance the instructor (who looked like a high school student - braces and all) was teaching us was called Casa (I don't know if that's how you spell it) and it was from Guinea. The drummer, though fitted in modern garb, assumed the essence of a tribal warrior and musician. His features were strong and symmetrical like a fine painting or sculpture: high cheek bones, full lips, straight nose with even nostrils. And he had locs. Long locs. So you know I was through. Whenever it was my turn to be the recipient of his wild glare, I imagined myself to be seducing the village's best warrior and most talented musician with my perfect and energetic gestures. (Nothing, of course could be farther from reality. Who knows what I was doing in that class!!! But it was fun!)

When the class finally ended at nine, and I assured myself that I had successfully survived a near-death experience, I decided to hang around to watch the next class. Our instructor for the beginning class became a student, and a older woman took over. It was marvelous to watch. I took the responsibility of preventing a baby boy of one of the dancers from running outside into the hall way. This kid thought he was slick. Waiting patiently near the door way, feigning disinterest before he made a run for it. Too cute! Another one of the students from the beginners class had a child as well; she stayed to watch the more experienced performers, too. As the better dancers danced, it appeared as if the drummer kept looking at her. So I focused on the dancers, replaying the moves I had just learned in my head. But after a while, and after the drummer cast so many glances in our direction, the girl with the baby followed the drummer's focus and looked at me.

Could it be that I actually enticed the brotha a little bit?

Nah!!!!!! LOL! I'll holla y'all!

The Cost & Value of Diversity

2007-06-25T21:11:00.000-07:00

Before I begin, I would like to thank everyone who sent their congratulations in regards to me getting a job. It felt really good to have all those good wishes and support, and I hope and pray that the deed be returned to all of you in the way each of you might need it most.

The last post left me on a positive note that carryed on throughout the weekend thanks to the company of good friends. One friend in particular came and visited me from out of town; I felt honored and overjoyed. My experiences since then can only be summed up in the varying costs and values of diversity.

Last Monday, I was watching Chef Ramsey's Hell's Kitchen. I think he's gotten a lot worse since the last time I saw the show. He berates the chefs, abuses them with a slew of foul language. It's sad. Somehow, these folks put up with it. They're better than me, because I would have gone upside the man's head with a frying pan before storming out if he ever talked to me the way he talks to those people. Where is the dignity? Anyway, when the time came for voting people off the show, the red team (all girls) decided that they would choose the two black women. Now of the two women chosen for the guantlet, one definitely deserved to go. She had been serving funky, rancid crab. The other one, who had helped the team win the first challenge (serving breakfast to a bunch of army and navy troops) was selected to be voted off because "she didn't have enough high class/ upscale restaurant experience. She didn't know the basic ingredients in a number of upscale dishes". I guess it didn't matter that this woman would stay up and study after everyone retired at some wee hour in the morning after a hard day's work. I guess it didn't matter that another woman in the kitchen thought it was okay to take spaghetti out of the trash can to re-boil and serve to guests. Y'all KNOW I'm offended - AND disgusted!

The value of the down-south Waffle House woman: A red team win. The cost of being a BLACK down-south Waffle House woman: Her spot on the show and in the competition. This week's result of both of the women who thought Waffle Woman should go being put on blast: PRICELESS. (And to top it off - Waffle Woman kept her cool! I see you! Go 'head and win the show!)

I've already shared the benefits of my city's diversity in Friday's post, so moving on...Spending time with my friend from out of town was great, and it made me get up, get out, and do something with my weekend life for her sake. We began Saturday with a walk. Along the route, it was so funny to find that people actually look like their dogs. A little girl with curly pig-tails dragged her little curly puppy along in the grass behind her. An elderly woman with white hair, completely dressed in shades of beige and tan slowly walked a shaggy dog with white and beige fur along the sidewalk. After brunch and some time spent at a museum, we went to celebrate at the Gay Festival's Women's March. It was a first for both of us, and it was a great way to get out and spend time. It was interesting to see couples that varied from quite conservative in appearance and demeanor to totally rowdy and rambunctious in attitude and behavior. We really had a great time walking the city streets to slappin' drum beats, and we kept going until nightfall when my feet literally froze in my worn flip-flops. As we waited for transportation, a drunken man at the stop kept badgering this girl to play whatever song popped into his head. At first, the girl was all for it, finding the songs on her IPod. Then, when he named a group she had never heard of The Art of Noise, she grew tired of the game. That's where I picked up. Though I was across the street I yell, "Yeah, I know the Art of Noise!" - Mo-ments...In Love. Mo-ments...In Love! We sang the refrain together a couple times before our ride came. Exhausted and starving, but finally back in my part of town my friend and I rove around to see if anything is open late. Gotta love Chinese that's open 'til 3a on Saturdays. I don't know if I would've found the place had I not been hangin' out late with my high school buddy. Everybody in the place pretty much looked like family. They were chowin' down, spinnin' that round thing in the center of the table, just pickin' and sharin' the food with each other. A waiter descretely passed a table a bottle of Courvosier and the next thing we knew, everybody had a full cup. I couldn't be mad at at the folks.

The cost of the entire day for both my friend and me: $40. The value of the experience of a bunch of different cultures and walks of life all in one day: Enriching for the rest of my life. The fact that I did it all with friends: PRICELESS. (And we STILL didn't finish the foreign film we tried to watch on Friday!...we were knocked.)

Sunday morning we hit the church house. Pastor was off the hook, the message was great. He was talkin' bout how we all need that Fire - not just any fire, the fire of the Holy Spirit. It refines us, connects us, and empowers us - I was feelin' it. After service, my friend and I were hungry yet again. She thinks of the Salvadorean spot that she and her mom discovered last time they were here (for my graduation!) I'm skeptical. I really want some American breakfast foods - eggs, waffles, pancakes, that sort of thing. But I decide to give the place a go. It's called Platano, which means platains in spanish. As we wait for our food - the only customers in the restaurant because it had just opened - my friend gives me some basic lessons in Spanish. I learn how to say table, knife, fork, spoon, etc. And I'm still skeptical about the dish I ordered: Frijoles (Negro) con crema y los platanos. WHY DID I EVER DOUBT????? That food was SO good (MUEY BUENO!), the platains cooked SO perfectly that I had to ask for an order to go. And, I WAS STUFFED. That place will DEFINITELY be revisted. On our way back to my place we passed a little block party between another Jamaican food restaurant and a Mexican produce market. We were tempted, but just too tired, so we headed home to sleep a few hours.

The value of a Sunday well spent: Rejuvenation. The cost of a Sunday well spent: $20. Sleeping half the day: ALWAYS PRICELESS.

And finally (I'm thinking this post should count for two. Y'all could stop and come back, right?) Today was a tripple-whammy. Apparently the bus routes changed yesterday. I discovered this today when the bus driver told me it was the end of the line and we were nowhere near my home. She kicked me and this elderly woman off the bus. The elderly woman only seemed to speak Spanish. So I call one my friends and have her translate for me so I can help the woman as much as possible. The bus line we're supposed to wait for (the 18) never comes, so I hop on the 14 which passes right in front my apatment. This bus driver gives me tons of attitude, even though I'm just trying to help this woman out. But she makes it to her destination, gives me a small smile, and waves before exiting the bus. When I make it home, I find that someone new has commented on my last post. But I don't know this person. It turns out, their comment was in Spanish - or so I thought. After imputting the words in the translating gizmo on my computer in 3 different languages - Spanish, then Italian, and finally Portuguese, I discover that this cat is trying to get me to make my own customized t-shirt. Thanks, but no thanks! (How did he read my post???) And THEN, this dude calls me. I'm trying to avoid him. I don't recognize the number so I answer the phone, "Hola?" because Spanish and Latin-based languages seem to be the name of the game today. He asks for me repeatedly and I respond, "No esta aqui. No esta aqui." Who knows if I was wrong or right? I eventually just said "Sorry" in English and hung up the phone. When I got a call from a private number, thinkin' ol' boy got hip to the skip I answered again, "Hola?" Why did the person on the other line, a Marcel, begin to spit Spanish at me???? I said "Hola?" again just to check if it was a recording. It wasn't. So I hung up.

The value of knowing a foreign language: unlimited. The cost of knowing a foreign language: I dunno! It varies! Helping someone in need - even if that person is yourself - PRICELESS.

I Got a Job!

2007-06-22T19:17:00.000-07:00

Which makes everything look just a bit brighter today. I received the call this afternoon, and certain things still need to be settled, but hey. I got a job. And that's grand.

In an elated delirium, I drove around the city looking for ways to celebrate before the inevitable night-time festivities commence. An idea popped into my head: what about that African/Jamaican food restaurant I've been wanting to try? Great idea. So I zoom over to the spot.

The door is open, and I'm hopeful even though I only have $3 in my pocket. There's a young man sitting in the doorway. Upon seeing me, his face lights up with a big grin. He says something I don't understand, so I walk right by him and to the counter to browse a menu I can't seem to find. Another young man, darker than his honey colored friend looks at me from under a red turban-like head dress and asks me if I know what I want. I reply and say that I've never had real Jamaican food - "what would you recommend?"

"Well, today really isn't a good day to try it if you haven't had it because we're pretty much out of everything."

"So why are you open?"

"We're not."

"You aren't? Then why's the door open?"

As we have this conversation, the friend sitting in the door way continues to bombard me with questions that I answer between the gaps of the main conversation. I'm thinking this kid is a little bizarre...possibly on drugs, or needs them maybe, but I continue to entertain him and the kid behind the counter. Why? Because that's what I do.

Turns out to be a great way to spend 30-45 minutes after work. The kid behind the counter (16) is running the restaurant while his parents are on vacation. His friend in the doorway constantly talks about the evils and injustices of the system between asking me about my hair and what race I think he is. Comedy. I stay until the spot closes, and during this time I've been asked, "What's your talent" and "Would you buy my mixtape for $10 just from the sample you heard" and of course, "What race do you think I am?" Not to mention additionally entertaining: "Me and my friend are completely different, huh?" "Don't mistake his education with my education," and "Do you like scorpios?"

In that short amount of time, I felt very blessed to meet these two, completely different, young men. They made me look forward to my new job all the more, as it is located at a high school alternative program. I hope these are the types of young people I encounter on my new journey. They were full of life, ideas, innocence, passion, drive, hope...

It was a beautiful thing. Life is a beautiful thing. Sometimes, in the midst of the muck and mire of "the bad times" we forget that. Thank God there are those out there who can help remind us of the truth. I bought the young, honey-colored wild spirited rastafari friend a can of Kern's Peach Nectar to get him to stop bugging his friend for a free drink. "Wow, you're not gonna drink it? You're nice!"

- You're thirsty, right?

Dark dude: "That IS nice. I wish you felt that way about my mixtape."

I laugh at this. This moment is what makes life worth living.

holleren.

Man-Meat ("Eat This!" part 2)

2007-06-21T16:08:00.000-07:00

In efforts to take advantage of the beautiful landscapes that surround me, a friend and I try to walk every week-day evening and Saturday mornings. I really enjoy these times, our talks, and wish more of my friends would do it. It's a great way to get out, get stimulated, enjoy fresh air and make a regular habit of moderate exercise.

It's also a great way to get your daily dose of eye candy...well...sometimes. Not that this is the purpose of the walk, for I have yet to actually meet one of these tasty treats, but it makes the exercise that much more enjoyable and desirable. Please don't mistake me for some kind of thirsty or rabid beast out on the prowl - this is not the case at all. I will admit, however, that if I see something I like, precious little will keep me from making it known.

For example: walking buddy and I are making fast progress on our regular route. She's gabbing away about someone she's met and I'm listening and doing my best to give the most healthy advice I can offer. Suddenly, a beautiful creature bounds across our path in tight black spandex shorts. Save for his socks, shoes, sun glasses...and I think a wave cap, his radiant flesh is completely bare (I would be amiss if I didn't acknowledge that I actually typed "rare", before realizing my mistake and re-typing "bare". Yes...I'm slightly ashamed). Because I wasn't expecting such a sight, the man totally caught me off-guard, which prohibited me from retaining my reflexive, "WHOOOOOOO-EEEEEEEEE! MY GAAAAWWWWD!"

IMMEDIATELY, I was shocked and surprised by my raunchy outburst! The man turned around swiftly, causing me to become instantly engrossed in my friend's story. Unfortunately, neither of us could stifle a good chuckle that soon turned into a hearty laugh. For a few seconds, I lost my composure - mah bad! LOL.

I thought I'd share this story as a follow up to last night's late post and in response to a question a friend asked me one time: "What do women REALLY think when they see a man?" Let me clarify from the get-go that although I am technically a young woman, and though I have many women friends, I cannot speak for all women when I say what I am about to say. If some choose to agree - so be it; it is likely that some will disagree. But whereas men generally are portrayed to have certain predictable reactions to women they find attractive (physically, etc.), women's reactions are like a box of chocolates - (you know the rest).

Have I ever reacted like that upon first sight of a fine masculine specimen? Yes. Have I ever been loud enough to startle all those around me including the specimen?....No. LOL. (It was warm that day.) Did I want to chase after the man, get his number, or even talk to him? No. He was just something nice to look at along the walk. I responded accordingly, as one who is moved by a lovely fragrant flower might exclaim, "Such a pretty flower!" And in this case, I had no problem leaving him alone for someone else to pluck. It might just be me, but just because I find someone attractive does not necessarily mean that I am attracted to that person beyond the gaze of physicality. The saying goes, "you eat with your eyes first;" all I'm saying is that after that first, second, or even third glance, I'm full and don't need to taste. From what I understand, that does not seem to be the case with many men. Like a kid in a candy store, to see means to touch, to touch means to taste. Sometimes there's a game, sometimes there isn't. Whatever the case, usually the goal is to get the girl (or guy) in bed.

To further explicate, another friend and I were discussing how we found ourselves generally and genuinely uninterested in the prospects in our area. We go out occassionally. Meet people. Talk to people. (By people I mean men). I find that in most cases, the guys I meet are truly nice guys. When speaking to them I try to be a blank slate to all the male chauvinist stereotypes, and see them for who they "really" are in a short span of time. In that vein, I'm sure they're all really great people. I'm just not interested. It has nothing to do with them....shoot...I don't think it has anything to do with me, either! Betwixt the two of us, there's just no room for shared interest. What then, or when maybe, is the point (or catalyst) of interest?

Any takers? I'll see what I get back, and continue this tomorrow.

holleren.

"Eat This!" - A Midnight Write

2007-06-21T00:14:00.000-07:00

Tonight, I bogged myself down with television. This rarely happens since I lost interest in tv around my sophomore year of college, when the Sex and the City Platinum DVD collection episode binges died down with freshman year and when my dormitory roommate pretty muched watched whatever she wanted on HER tv during my second year.

In fact, I didn't own my own tv until the fall of 2006 when my aunt volunteered to buy me one with the help of some Best Buy coupons my mom gave me. By that time, I had already gone without a tv for an entire year - my third year of college. I was sharing an apartment with a stranger. She didn't own a tv and neither did I; surprisingly I didn't miss it. The real reason Mr. Toshiba found a comfortable spot in my apartment now is because my mom got tired of calling me and asking me to turn to a certain channel to see something outrageous only to have me remind her that I coudn't do so. At least that's what I prefer to believe.

Even with DVR (Digital Video Recording - i think), there is seldom anything I want to watch, let alone record - save for new episodes of Ugly Betty and Gray's Anatomy, or old reruns of Living Single and Soul Food when I hadn't seen all the syndicated episodes. But even then I had no real drive to rush home and watch the recordings.

Anyway, that's not the point. Here's the point. After an hour of Tyler Perry's House of Payne (which still needs to boost it's hilarity levels and reduce plot intensity, in my opinion), an hour of Top Chef (a must), and an hour of "Honey, We're Killing the Kids!", I find myself yet again contemplating the issue of food in America. It's been on my mind a lot lately, ever since seeing Super Size Me for the first time.

In many ways, food is something no one can escape. Obviously it's essential to life. However, not only is it a health and/or image issue, it's in many ways a political issue. Yeah, it's scary and disgusting that people are out there weighing 600+ pounds (in all instances, I'm amazed they're still alive), but more than that, this goes to show...the overabundance of America, and the various negative aspects of this overabundance. People who are morbidly obese cannot help but receive gawks and stares at some point in their lives. Their weight rockets them way outside stereotypical images of beauty and "health". So they receive negative stigmata for not looking "right" or "normal". This is on top of the negative reality of their health. But add to this the very real and negative fact that America pushes people to overconsume every waking moment of every day. You may not need new couture, or a new car, or the latest technology; so it may be easier (for some) to pass up these things. But every body needs to eat. And in a culture where all we seemingly have time for is work and consumption (in all its varieties) as fast as possible, it's no wonder why people are suffering in such staggering numbers!

Why do I have to scold myself into eating Raisin Bran, when I really want to skip a few cereal boxes down to the Frosted Flakes, Fruit Loops, or Cinnamon Toast Crunch? Why are tv characters so overweight they appear to have trouble walking, but yet buttered bisuits and other soul food favorites are highlighted and praised? Why are children who are more open and flexible to a health plan instituted and geared toward changing their lives, inhibited by the negative attitudes of parents who put the family on the program in the first place??? This is sad! Mostly because we have the CHOICE; the choice is in our hands!

Don't get me wrong, I LOVE food; Lord knows I've battled my own sugar addiction time and time again. So it hurts me even more to think that not only do I have the CHOICE to eat the best foods maybe the world has to offer (because thanks to globalization, I'm taking it from the people who really need it) but I'm making bad choices because consumerism constantly tells me to make the WRONG choice. Home cooked meal versus restaurant gourmet delight? I'd probably be healthier, richer, and more fit with the former, but they make the latter look so glamorous! Funny thing, when I eat the food, I feel like a dead log and my skin looks horrible (not to mention I probably ate half my body weight in caloric intake). My mom and I were having this discussion when she wanted to go to Claim Jumper's. Now, I can't STAND Claim Jumper's. Don't get me wrong, the food is good, but why are the portions so large? So I can get my money's worth and have lunch for tomorrow? For my $20 dinner I could get food for a week! I just don't like to feel like I'm eating food served from a trough, and that's exactly how I feel when I go to CJ's. It's just too much.

From previous posts, y'all should know that my love of food runs deep indeed. I have yet to try those fancy San Franciscan restaurants, but as I'm reading What Is the What by Dave Eggers, which so far takes place in Sudan, it kills me to think that I have the option of spending $75+ on a meal when people are surviving on hot water and corn meal mush. That makes no sense to me. To be perfectly honest, I probably won't be thinking about this when I finally hit up one of those posh eateries, but now I am. I believe whole-heartedly that food is meant to be enjoyed by all. It is by far one of the most communal things there is. Think about it: whenever there's a celebration - wedding, baby shower, birthday, promotion - you name it! Most likely, you're going to go to a restaurant and/or bar to celebrate. Food brings people together. When I was working in high school, I hated having to go to work on Sundays because that was the ONLY day my family got together and ate a meal together. Believe me when I say that almost every single time I had to leave early to go to work, I wanted to cry. That says something!

Look, I don't know where this is going. I needed something to distract me from going to the fridge and concocting some sort of midnight snack - although that's virtually impossible with an empty fridge. Sorry this one was so late it bled into the next day. I will be writing later on.

So in the spirit of America, enjoy the double dip, chocolate chip serving of blog post. Night all. I'm out.

I Got the Power!

2007-06-19T22:23:00.000-07:00

The power of handling Microsoft Power Point, that is.

Today, I literally spent the entire day creating an interesting and interactive power point presentation for no particular reason at all. I embarked on the task just to better acquaint and familiarize myself with more power point possibilities. Some of you may list this as one of the skills on your resumes, but I personally don't like to put down anything that I'm not totally comfortable with. So yeah, I could always make some slides up and put a bunch of information them (too much, actually). But I always knew that there had to be something more - otherwise, what was all the hype about???

Well I most certainly found out. By just playing around, glancing at a few tutorials and templates, I configured an interactive journal/potential electronic portfolio for myself. More or less, it's a website in the form of a program application. In it, I've included everything from work to play to interests. And it's fun! It's no where near complete, but I look forward to working on it more in the future. On top of that, I feel confident in using the problem well, so that if anyone ever approached me and asked me to do a presentation or some other type of promotion or advertisement, not only could I do it well but I could ask them specific questions and give specific feedback to aid toward producing the most desirable product. YES!!!

While it was fun, it definitely was not on my agenda for the day. Basic tasks such as going to the bank, vacuuming, etc. were pushed to the back burner, and that's not good. Still, we all need these types of days sometimes. Days where you get really excited and focused about something to the point where it's the only thing you do. Yeah....it's a good thing. You can do it! Go on and get the power!

Back in Action (B.I.A)

2007-06-18T17:41:00.000-07:00

So I took a vacation last week. Not because I thought I deserved it; not because my mind dried up (although it kind of did). I took a break because I was reading, and because I wanted to.

I finished Chris Gardner's The Pursuit of Happyness, and I'm glad I did. It was an interesting read, slow on some parts; quicker on others. Having seen the movie prior to reading the book, of course, gave me some expectations that were - different from the novel. The focus is different, which makes Gardner's motives different. And the way the story plays out is different as well, which makes things both more realistic and more traumatic, in a way.

This book really allows the reader to examine her own views of the american opportunity; it may even challenge them. What it solidifies, either way, is the importance of a grounded sense of self. For me, that is what permeated the moral of the story. Once Gardner got on the move, the possibilities seemed endless indeed, and I got caught up in the possibilities with him. But before the possibilities, Gardner had nothing but the beliefs his mother instilled in him. He begins the book with one of the main points of this belief system: "Go forward." Hey, I like it! But as easy as it sounds, that is something that can be very hard to do - I'm a witness. A lot of times it's so much easier to throw in the towel, if just for a few moments to gather your bearings. With Gardner's story, however, it is apparent that regardless of the circumstances, he somehow pressed and pushed through to move forward. Even if he was only taking baby steps.

If I were to rename this book - not saying that I have any right to do so, but just to give you an idea of how the story reads - I might also call it The Journey of Perseverance, for Gardner becomes a living definition of what it means to persevere. It paid off in the end, but actually, the least part of the novel is spent on the fruits of perseverance. Nonetheless, it is an interesting, somewhat daunting yet motivational read. I'd give it 3 1/5 stars only because it took me a while to really get into the novel. I encourage you all to pick it up, and challenge my rating (which means nothing, of course).

Otherwise, I'm out until tomorrow.

holleren.

Expressions

2007-06-08T13:07:00.000-07:00

This city is such a wonderful and COLORFUL place!

Might I introduce to some, and present to others: Karin Turner (also endearingly known as the "watermelon lady"). I first experienced this artist's work at an art auction I helped at a couple Sunday's ago, and I immediately fell in love. Those who know me, know that I unabashedly love watermelon - it's even been digitally documented. I will make no apologies for my love of the sweet, summery fruit, and I dare anyone to spew a snide remark.

Ms. Turner MUST have had me in mind when she decided to embark on a vibrant career in watercolors. Her pieces are gorgeous and vivacious with bold contrasting pigments of cobalt blues, butter yellows, and black plum purples - the list goes on, of course. Her lines are curvy and organic, like her voluptuous star-haired figures, and are sometimes textured and faintly bejeweled, making each piece a treasure.

Like treasure, the focus of Ms. Turner's work (besides watermelon) is entirely on the woman, mostly in the form of mermaids and nudes. Though the art may not be superficially complex - images are straightforward and simple, unlike an art form such as Picasso's multi-dimensional Cubism - there is something about Turner's work that draws you in and makes you think. Makes you think why she puts watermelon in each of her paintings, makes you think how color changes the dynamic, mood, and attitude of a painting. Turner goes into detail on her website about how watermelon, the image, its particular history, etc., effects an inalienable past in the contemporary present, and how that present is reshaped and/or transformed by that past.

I could go on all day, but you don't have to take my word for it. Visit www.karinsart.com and see for yourself. Read her bio and check out her blog (it's the lighter template of mine! and she has great pics too!). I'm sure you won't be disappointed.

nothing

2007-06-07T14:41:00.000-07:00

after working the first three days of the week in a row, i finally got to today - my day off. boy did i need it! i had to make a number of calls, return something to the store, clean my apartment, maybe buy a morsel of food; the list continues.

but i didn't.

why does that happen? i knew i had all this stuff to do today, and it's approaching 3p and i haven't done a thing. haven't even hopped in the shower yet (but don't worry, i'll be doing that as soon as i conclude!) i needed this day SO much, just to....BREATHE, i guess. it's a wonderful day though. i hope you all have enjoyed at least some of it.

tre-luv

Zabu Zabu

2007-06-06T13:27:00.000-07:00

A great, presumably new, Japanese restaurant!

This place is snazzy y'all! Formally called Zabu Zabu Hotpot & Lounge, the name of the restaurant is what I assume a play on the name of the Japanese cuisine called Shabu-shabu. Shabu-shabu is prepared by dipping thinly sliced meat (traditionally beef) and vegetables (and sometimes tofu) in a pot of boiling water or dashi broth and swishing it around. According to Wikipedia, shabu-shabu roughly means "swish-swish).

I didn't have any Shabu-shabu this afternoon; I had a Terryaki Chicken salad instead. I wasn't that hungry, and in fact, I was on my way to Au Coquellette Cafe to further investigate the daily soup offerings. But along the way, the street advertisement for Zabu Zabu stopped me in my tracks, and I'm glad.

The decor was modern and chic; the color scheme: black and deep scarlet to effect a rich and serious scene that was smoothly off-set by pulsating ambient jazz. The few diners that had stopped by for lunch were clearly professionals indulging in the respite the dark, enclave eatery provided. Afraid of being late for work, I glanced over a to-go menu in search of soup and was ecstatic to find that most of the entrees for both lunch and dinner were served with soup AND salad - at REASONABLE PRICES. Well, I thought the prices were fairly reasonable to low high-end, and I imagined that any soup or salad served with one of the rice bowls, ramen and/or udon noodle dishes would be minuscule at best. How wrong I was.

One of the servers assured me that my Terryaki Chicken salad would not take long; that I should sit in his favorite spot in the restaurant, a small nook housing a table for two next to a large, bright window. I couldn't refuse, and the server didn't lie. After my cup of Miso soup, which I thoroughly enjoyed, a big square bowl heaped with food followed. It literally looked as though a forest of healthy romaine foliage had sprouted hearty delectable strips of terryaki-sauced chicken. The chicken COVERED the salad, and the whole presentation was topped of with those crunchy curly little wanton strips. The romaine was healthy and abundant; the chicken tender. Absolutely delicious. Especially for seven dollars.

This is a perfect spot for a date, romantic or otherwise, or even for those group kick-it dinners with the friends. True to form, there's a lounge in the back of the restaurant that's perfect for sipping sake. So round up the posse and take a trip! Or, if you're a bad mother - "shut yo mouth!" You can roll solo. This is a quaint dining experience you CAN afford, but can't afford to miss.

holleren.

Uh huh...uh huh...yeah...

2007-06-05T14:12:00.000-07:00

Had to share this:

As many of you may already know, I work in a law office. Today, I'm filling in for the receptionist who's out on vacation. It's been a pretty light day, for which I am quite thankful.

Anyway, though the calls have been light, the callers have been rather long-winded. One caller, calling from New York, sounds like he's in the crisis of his life, but the attorney for whom he's calling is out on vacation until tomorrow. He begins to spin his tormented yarn when an open line on the phone rings. I give the man a couple "mmm hmms" before I wordlessly click over and pick up the blinking line by the second ring.

I pray to God that the New Yorker doesn't realize I'm not on the phone, quickly address line three's call, hang up, and return to New Yorker on line two just as he's finishing in earnest. I repeat what I said at the beginning of the conversation - "the attorney won't be in until tomorrow" and ask Brooklyn if it would be impossible to call back tomorrow. First, Queens says, "Wow, I really thank you for understanding my situation" (at this point, my eyes dart to the sky as my mind searches the gratitude for facetiousness), and I reply with a hearty, "No problem!" Then he asks, "So what do you think?" (Great. The friggin moment of truth, right?) "Well, I'm just filling in for the receptionist who's out on vacation, so I don't think I'd be able to make a definite call here. But again, if you'd like to just call the attorney back tomorrow - if that's possible, that'll probably be your best bet," I innocently suggest.

BK goes on to say how that's a wonderful, and probably the best idea; that he's going to do just that. He then thanks me again profusely, clearly exuberant (for what reason, I do not know) and hangs up.

Now...I'm sure any and everyone reading this thinks that I'm in the wrong...hey...it was shady. I understand. But really, all I did was repeat myself three times and take a break to answer another line between times 1 and 2. This story may be comical, but what it shows at the root is that people are desperate to talk to someone nowadays, and that's sad. Make sure you keep in contact with good friends and associates so you don't have this problem. Talking regularly to those you DO know, may curb the urge to spill your life to strangers who probably aren't listening anyway. Then again, I'm assuming that most of the readership knows me and is a friend of mine...so...I don't expect y'all to have this problem. If you do, or if you feel you're slipping - don't call me. I'm not a fan of long, drawn out conversations about nothing - clearly. **chuckles**

Hey, I gotta keep it real. Would I be a true friend if I didn't?

Hustlin'

2007-06-04T13:53:00.000-07:00

The song says I'm doing it everyday, but...am I?

As I write this, "lookin' ova mah shoulder and peepin' around corners (mah mind's playin tricks on me)" to make sure I don't get caught blog posting on the job, I think to my self, is there such a thing as too much hustlin?

It makes me think: if we're always moving, hustling, running, when do we have time to appreciate the fruit of our labors? For some, there must be a thrill in the hustle. That's fine. It's just not me.

I like movin' n' shakin', shakin' n' bakin', but after a while, I get tired. The only problem then is, I'm also bored out of my mind. I wonder why the balancing act isn't praised as much as hustlin'. It is the more difficult art, in my opinion.

A good friend said to me the other day, "I've learned to think before I speak." We've all heard the phrase I'm sure, but how many of us put it to use? Moreover and more importantly, how many of us think before we make moves? Maybe that's the difference between hustlin' and kickin' rocks. Hustlin' connotes that there is no time for taking breaks - I feel it. It takes a mere moment to get swallowed up by the cares of the world, if you're not careful. Kickin' rocks suggests the element of strategy and a balance of action, inaction, and patience.

So while everyone around me hustles to make that paper, I'm learning the art of kicking rocks. I will tap my resources, put my pawns into place, and patiently await results.

Enough rambling. Kick rocks, y'all.

mac attack

2007-06-01T12:39:00.000-07:00

so check it y'all.

my computer be trippin', and that's why i didn't post yesterday. i'm kind of upset, naturally, especially since all i did to the thing was MOVE it (physically, from one spot on the desk to another). ridiculous. i don't have time. but let's not dwell on the bad.

the point is, i'm still severely inebriated from an outing last night. now, i don't think this is becoming a problem - really, i've got it under control. in fact, i'm surprised at how lately i've often passed on drinks when i go out. but, i will confess that going to bible study on wednesday after an afternoon mimosa may not have been the most spiritually correct thing to do. we all make mistakes, and i think i did well to pass on the poetry kick it spot for a little bit of Jesus. i won't say that service sobered me up, because it didn't. i hadn't drunk that much anyway, but i wasn't used to what i received that night. it was more like a sunday night service than a bible study. nevertheless, i went. that's what matters.

also, i made some BOMB oatmeal yesterday! if you know me, i mean, really know me you know that i HATE oatmeal. i only eat the apple cinnamon instant kind from time to time because every time i've ever had it out of the canister, it's been nasty as hell. but after wednesday's service, i watched the documentary SUPER SIZE me for the first time, and was grossed out of my mind. i don't even eat fast food like that, let alone McDonald's, which i grew to despise when i was still young - especially the butt&feet funky playplaces. but it was so disturbing that i felt i needed to make an immediate change just to cover the bases. i've got a doctor's appointment coming up to top it off. so i made bought and made oatmeal, and prayed that i wouldn't waste it by not eating the muck. but let me tell you, i hooked it up SO WELL...man, i wanted more, but i was full so i could only wait for today to have some more! (but since i was still intoxicated when i woke up (late) this morning, i didn't have time to make some before work). i put peaches, bananas, cinnamon, brown sugar, milk, and butter in it. and i didn't use a lot of the last three ingredients either! i'm talking less than 3 teaspoons total! i couldn't completely kill the nutritional value, that would defeat the purpose! but my outstanding oatmeal is clearly going to be a regular food staple of the summer of togetherness 2007 - if not the rest of my life. as i was savoring it, i was so pleased that i actually thought i might turn out to be a pretty good mother. the kids are gonna love the good stuff!

but anyway, let me stop. i feel like i've been typing for days. shot out to my cousin who had a birthday yesterday - happy birthday bro-co. shot out to the TOWN, just cause. shot out to sobriety...i'm getting there.

Game Nights

2007-05-30T16:25:00.000-07:00

What ever happened to them?

Well, maybe that's not an appropriate question since I never really had them. But...yeah. In the spirit of the Summer of Togetherness, game night reinstitution is in full effect!

I'm going to need some help with this, guys, so feel free to get in where you fit in. I'm talking everything from Mahjong and Monopoly to Skip-Bo and Spades (even though I can't stand Monopoly or Spades). It's time to take it back to the good ol' days of home cooked meals of fried chicken, fish and beer (even though I can't stand beer) around the card table. Who's with me?!

Really, this is important to our relationships. Let's remove ourselves from the boob tube and the movie screen for a few hours each week to grow and bond together. Come on! It'll be fuuuuunnnn......

Don't Worry...Be Happy.

2007-05-29T10:36:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was a beautiful day! I was rollin' around town with my twin soul, and as we cruised she felt it necessary to skip to a certain track on the cd: "Don't Worry, Be Happy". Now, I haven't heard this song since I was like 5 when the music video came on the Disney channel at 6 am between the Micky Mouse Club Workout and Gummi Bears. But as I listened to the words, I couldn't help chuckling.

The lyrics are akin to something like: "you're on your death bed; you can't breathe, but just relax and feel the gentle breeze - don't worry. be happy" OR "you got shot, you're runnin' out of time but don't complain - it's not good to wine. don't worry. be happy." No, Bobby McFerrin really didn't sing those words...exactly...but they were along the same lines. Basically, the moral of the song is, whatever IT is will eventually pass so don't trip - and he actually says that in the song (minus the "don't trip" part). In any case, the simple melody is catchy and kinda soothing. Try singing it...it actually made me feel a little better.

I had an interesting holiday weekend; most of the events fall into the category "don't worry, be happy". So, I will share the adventures with you accordingly. (feel free to sing along if you like)

1. (Sat) Ate out for breakfast though I was broke, but my good friend picked up the note - don't worry. be happy.

2. (Sat) Thought my FIRST brazilian wax was gonna be great, but ever since I can't pee straight - but don't worry. be happy. (did i mention i almost bled to death?)

3. (Sat) To reggae gold I went to have some fun, two fights broke out before the night was done - don't worry. be happy.

4. (Sun) When I got home I slept all day. Lord please forgive me I didn't even pray - don't worry. be happy.

5. (Mon) Holiday come 'round, no barbecue?! But then my good neighbor he came right thru - don't worry. be happy. (he had ribs, lemon cake AND sweet potato pie - holleren!)

6. (Tue) Will parking tickets follow me the rest of my life? City says I gotta pay 4 more, that can't be right! - don't worry. be happy.

7. (Since LAST Tue) My cell's malfunctioning, it won't work! I want to chuck it at the meter maid jerks - don't worry. be happy.

dooo! do do doodooo dooeeoo doooeeoo! dooeeeoo oooeeoo! dooeeoo dooo!!

Fabulous Fine Dining

2007-05-25T15:48:00.000-07:00

The summer just keeps getting better and better, I tell you!

Yesterday, after a job interview that took place in a building's roof-top garden overlooking the city, I strolled around looking for the public transportation station I had used to get to the PR firm. It still amazes me that you can get lost on a block in the city.

Anyway, en route I was looking at and in all the massive structures that towered above me. In doing this I discovered something phenomenal! You see, I passed a window that pictured a woman sipping and/or tasting a HUGE goblet of white wine. I said to myself, 'hmmm 5p in the afternoon - must be a wine tasting session'. But as a peered in further, I saw other bodies - professionally dressed, enjoying early dinners. And then it dawned on me, I was looking into one of those rare yet raved about restaurants that exclusively serve the elite and well-to-do!

I thought those things only existed in Sex and the City - well, maybe not. But I had never seen a real one before, and on the way to the station I saw like FIVE!!! So I went home and researched some of the places, perused their menus, read chef bios - it was all amazing!

If I continue on this route....man....I don't know WHAT kind of stories I'm going to have by the end of the summer. But let me tell you, I can't wait.

Compromising Situations

2007-05-24T13:55:00.000-07:00

How many of us seem to find ourselves in compromising situations? You may be perfect, but I'm sure you've gotten into an eyebrow-raiser once or twice in your life.

Now, I, on the other hand, find that my LIFE is pretty much a compromising situation. In efforts to thoroughly contemplate this conundrum, I have made a list of possible reasons as to why I often and continually find myself in a compromising situation.

1. I give my number out to strangers on occasion because:
a) I just want to seem nice.
b) I don't think he'll call.
c) Not giving him my number seems scarier than the prospect of him actually calling, and me not answering.
d) I'm genuinely interested at the time, usually because the guy seems a little crazy and hey...i just want to see where that road leads.

Let's analyze.

All of these reasons are CLEARLY a problem! I am really having a hard time grasping that they really just popped out of my head! **Concerned reader, please take a brief moment to look up a local psychologist.**

1A) I want to seem nice??? Please!!! Any time, and most times I want to SEEM nice as opposed to actually and genuinely BEING nice, means I'm really being quite mean inside my head. So mean, in fact, that my maliciousness is probably unwarranted and inappropriate. Hmmm....I guess that's why I want to seem nice. Okay, so will somebody please write down "BALANCE" on our problem-solving list? Thanks.

1B) I don't think he'll call. Now this is reasonable. I used to live in LA, and in LA I gave my number out all the time and never got called. It was all one big fun game. Unfortunately, it's clearly not a game any more. So....I guess add to the list "REALITY CHECK: HE'S GONNA CALL, FOO!"

1C) This is exactly why I probably shouldn't give him my number...but really guys, in these situations, it's SUPER SCARY, and I panic. No joke. Put down "FIND BODY GUARD" as a semi-seperate, but still problem-solving to-do list.

1D) ...um...I'm gonna plead the 5th on this one and let some of y'all comment with possible solutions. This is an interactive intervention.

2. I'm sort of a people pleaser...until people get on my nerves.

Analysis: Okay, this is a problem, because more times than not people are getting on my nerves, especially out here with their horrible driving skills. Again, there is an issue with balance. I either like you or I don't, and while there are degrees of like and dislike there is no gray area between. So I guess this change occurs when someone flips from being likable to unlikable. Once you cross the line, it is my subconscious and reflexive duty to tell you about yourself. Fortunately, I love ALL OF YOU! YAY!! (and by all of you, i mean those of you i know are reading this. if i don't know you, please disregard and refer to analysis answer 1A).

3. I despise extreme laziness in other people, but i'm El Senora Lazy-o myself.

Analysis: This is pretty self-explanatory, I think.

Okay that's enough. I'm tired. Comment, people. Please comment. (ewww....begging)

Steps

2007-05-23T22:02:00.000-07:00

there comes a time in all of our lives when we must take steps toward things. maybe that's something we should be doing constantly, like making steps toward deadlines, and short and long term goals.

well, having completed some work on a special project, i can honestly say that i made steps toward my passion - whatever that is. i love to read and write, and i love to write about what i read. and since i've graduated, that has pronounced itself more than anything else.

i have written more, and more freely for that matter, hence the production of this blog. i have read more, which was necessary for this project, and i have begun to devour a mental list of books. in a nutshell, i think i am making steps toward becoming serious about my craft; i think i am becoming serious about being an artist - in many forms.

yesterday's post that detailed my adventure at the art gallery is an example of one of the stops on this road to artisanship. i am still overwhelmed by the effect the art had on me, and i plan to be a regular at the gallery. this is the life i crave (at least for now); this is the life that drives me.

although i am currently forced to look for a full-time job to pay my rent and bills, i have even made the decision to be more true to myself and my appetite for art even in the workforce. i simply cannot acquiesce to the legal field any longer, i need something that will imbibe my life with meaning. that's difficult when many of my friends are taking the high-paying corporate jobs that commence in the fall, while in the meantime extravagant trips around the world await them.

but slowly, i've realized, i could never have that type of job. at least not now. my work has to feed me for me to feed it; for me to put my all into it. and right now, that's something that i desire enough to be patient for. so now, i'm just taking steps, making steps toward a goal that has yet to materialize.

A Taste of Culture

2007-05-22T16:21:00.000-07:00

Shot out to Piddles and Porkchop - 2 of my favorite people on this, their 22nd birthday. Go gemini!

Walking down 14th street back to my car parked just a block away, I happened to pass by what first looked like an empty building. But, on the window I thought I saw some words. So I did a double take, and noticed that the "empty" building had an open door with a sign that said "COME IN!" I looked at the window again; in it was a flyer-like sign that said Intimate Reflections - New Paintings by Foad Satterfield. So I thought about it a moment, and went in.

Immediately, my breath was taken away! The art on the walls was nothing short of marvelous. Then a woman came down the stairs, started talking to me, handed me a palmful of flyers for upcoming shows and led me upstairs. The art housed there was absolutely exquisite!!! I want y'all to believe me when I say that I literally teared up a little bit. Ever since I moved out here, I've been casually looking for black and/or minority-produced artwork. And here this place was in the cut!!! A number of pieces caught my eye, and if you'd like to experience them for yourselves - hit me up. But oh my gosh. These sculptures - one was a shade lighter than a brilliant cobalt blue, the other was a delicate blend of mustard seed and sage - magnificent! I wanted them at once! And then, oh wow! the collages, the 3Ds....you HAVE to see it. I'm serious.

Not too long ago, some friends and I went to an exhibit eager to quench our thirst for culture. Naturally, this is a VERY cultural place, and since we've been here, we've all agreed that we need to take more time to experience the colors of our city. Unfortunately, when we arrived at the scene and paid our donations, we were blasted deaf by a local indie band, smoked out by puffing patrons, and.....well let's just say...uninterested in most of the art work. That includes the wall of dripping clitorises of various shapes sizes and colors in the medium of chewed bubble gum. Inventive....but not quite what we were looking for.

So you can imagine my surprise at finding exactly what we all had been looking for right under my nose. These same friends and were on the exact same block just this past weekend. And trust me...the taste of culture we got THAT night, was not the biz. Inspired by my fellow black artisans, I went home to bake a cake for my sands. I did it big, yall. Real big. These girls mean a lot to me. So I popped open the bottle of champagne I got for graduation, let a little bit dribble in the batter, threw in some raspberries and spice and whoo! Does my apartment smell GOOD! I hope this cake is good, and that they like it. If they don't, it already has a home ready and waiting at apartment 22...

Have a good one, y'all. Happy Tuesday!

Here it is...

2007-05-21T12:42:00.000-07:00

...a groove slightly transformed - just a bit of a break from the norm...

yep. it's summertime. that's whas up!

Personally, I couldn't be more ecstatic. 'Cause on the real? Summer '07 GOES DOWN. It has already been dubbed the "Summer of Positive Estrogen," and while I don't necessarily agree with that particular nomenclature, I can't help but smile at the fact that it was devised under a drunken stupor - an early sign of summer bomb-diggityness.

Did I really just say bomb-diggityness???

Yes, I did. And do you know why? (Not because Krissy J is my sands - although I'm sure that's influenced me to some degree...but) Because that will be just ONE of a whole SLEW of words to describe the sheer exuberance this summer is destined to bring. The slapperation has already commenced, so if you're not in the know - WHO ARE YOU???? RISE from the dull and lackadaisical depths of ignorance and come into the blinding light of the California sun!!!

And if you're not in California, that's okay too, because Summer '07 can conveniently be experienced ALL AROUND THE WORLD. It's an attitude you can carry with you, wherever you go! sprinkling merriment, mirth, laughter and hilarity all along the way! Hurrah!!!

Just about all my friends are going to be nearby, and we all know what that means - a classic yellow-bus production of "go dumb, go dumb US-YAY"!!! Look out for more U-Tube Tomfoolery and unforgettable blog posts highlighting the most memorable memories to date. If you aren't gonna be a part of my summer chill-thrill crew.....well...I feel bad for you. But, hey! You can have fun by forming your own pimped-out posse! So get to it! Time's a wastin!

Get GLEEful, FOO!!!

HOLLEREN.

Talking Nasty

2007-05-18T12:50:00.000-07:00

So a friend of mine just asked me a question about our night out at the poetry/kick-it spot, which gave me the idea of today's post - Talking Nasty.

(oooooooh!)

Let me begin by first posing a question: When did YOU first start talking nasty? (mmm hmm!)

While I can't quite recall when I first started TALKING nasty, I can recall doing nasty things at a VERY early age. Now, I'm not going to go through EVERYTHING, that would just be flat-out uncouth! (adj: lacking good manners, refinement, or grace). But I will say that Freud wasn't far from the mark when he examined the human drive for pleasure - even in little children. We're not promoting pedophilia, here; we're actually not anywhere NEAR that topic so refocus your attention!

What I AM insinuating, is that children are....experimental little buggers...at least I was. And the funny thing is, something always kinda told me, "hey...maybe you shouldn't be doing this..." needless to say I ignored that voice most of the time. For example, in kindergarten, there was this boy by the name of...oh...let's call him J-Boog. He had a friend named...Milo. So J-Boog had a fascination with his little wee-wee and he wanted to share his preoccupation with the entire world of the playground. So Milo, his hype-man and sidekick, would promote J-Boog's personal exhibitions. Being one of three of J-Boog's "special interests" I was personally escorted to the show where everyone was marveling at the squishy wonder. Yes, it was squishy; I know because I touched it. At once, I was both awestruck and repulsed...and intrigued! The Voice then says to me, "you probably shouldn't be doing this..." but as a inherently curious individual and an avid follower of the animals on the Discovery channel, I couldn't stop myself! Until....I was asked to show mine.

Um. NO! Now, one of the other two "special interests" displayed NO inhibitions whatsoever! She jumped right into the show and offered herself to be...experienced, shall we say. I don't know what happened to either of them, but that is one of my most vivid memories from childhood. Interestingly enough, I don't remember SAYING much when I touched J-Boog or when I was asked to offer myself to be touched. There is something very...powerful about words, especially nasty ones, making them quite taboo in my mouth. That doesn't stop me from THINKING nasty thoughts...oh! let's not GO THERE. But saying nasty things, even today at the vivaciously nubile age of 22, is something that I struggle to bring myself to do. I have done it, but I immediately feel awkward and foolish, and I have to suppress embarrassing bursts of idiotic laughter.

Maybe this is because it is true that "death and life are in the power of the tongue" and if the tongue got the strength to do all that, it has no problem forcing the body to react to a whisper of its whims (Proverbs 18:21). I guess that's why phone sex is effective....for some people. For me, I grew up around a lot of old school folk. Silence was golden, and there are certain things you just don't say. You could IMPLY certain things, hint at them, but you didn't say them. I think that kept things exciting, mysterious, sensual, secretive and sacred. It also kept things dignified when they needed to be.

Synonymous with "nasty talk" is vulgar language. The world "vulgar" originates from the Latin "vulgaris" from "vulgus" or 'common people'. In other words, it was talking like ordinary people (thanks John Legend!) So theoretically, if we're just ordinary people, nasty talk is just what we talk. Period. But since I have a problem talking nasty talk, I guess that means that I'm not ordinary. Hey, that's just how Mama raised me: "WATCH YOUR MOUTH". I'm not saying or implying that people who can talk nasty without inhibition are ordinary or regular - it is what it is. I just wanted to give y'all a little food for thought.

I will thusly conclude in the lyrics of one of my favorite songs by the ingenious Cee-lo Green, "Be free and express yo'self! Nastiness comes naturally!"

FRIENDS. how many of us have them?

2007-05-17T12:37:00.000-07:00

(i do!!!)

"make new friends, but keep the old. one is silver, the other gold."

this goes out as a BIG THANK YOU to everyone that posted comments on yesterday's blog: "i don't know everything? (incompetence!)". i REALLY appreciate the support! =) and, for those friends who did not post comments, that's okay too. i will try not to base our long-standing friendships on something as petty as commenting on blog spot (but y'all betta say somethin next time, ya heard?! - jk!)

for all of you, i have briefly listed below some highlights from yesterday. as you all are my friends, you should be familiar with the flow of my life, and this shouldn't sound strange at all. enjoy!

1. co-worker of mine, L-sizzle (i will probably never use real names in a blog), and i walked out for lunch yesterday to find a massive bundle of bees doing one of two things: ginormous mutant-jumbo bee was EATING a regular-sized bumble OR G.J.B and B.B. were....well...sexing. in broad daylight. adding literal meaning to "the birds and the bees" i never (ironically) considered before.

2. in a rush to get ready for graduation on saturday (5.12.07)- a whole other story in itself - i accidentally lopped off half my right eyebrow because i didn't have time to wait for the asian lady at the wig shop who was too busy applying false eyelashes to a client. i went again yesterday and she laughed at me.

3. eyebrows fixed and draped in fresh funky and fabulous threads, i swoop TS from her abode and dip to a local hot spot for a night of poetry and dancing. she provides me with half a bag of sesame pita chips and a generic strawberry nutri-grain bar manufactured by trader joe's. they were delicious. i consumed them, without shame, in the club in my fresh funky and fabulous threads with my fixed eyebrows.

4. after a night of the CRAZIEST and deepest "poetry" i've ever heard (from rants on peppermint schnapps and burning gas to lessons of grief and forgiveness), a small group of friends and i began to break it down on the dance floor. why, pray-tell, did a grizzle-haired man WITH A WALKER ask us to pardon his passing as he eased his way to the bathroom???

Of course, many other things occurred yesterday, but....i think this is enough. thanks again everyone!

i don't know everything? (incompetence!)

2007-05-16T12:36:00.000-07:00

For those who are highly intolerant - like myself - the lesson of tolerance can be a hard one. Of the things I simply cannot tolerate, incompetence, ignorance, stupidity usually top the list. Imagine my devastation, then, upon discovering that I am incompetent.

I could describe the various array of emotions that flooded through me one after another in a torrential deluge, but that would be embarrassing and embarrassment is hard to share, especially when it relates to an intolerability. More or less, I got karate-kicked off my high horse and judo-chopped in the jugular, the live pumping source of my condescension.

So I lost my job (not that it paid spectacularly or anything) and it hurts. I'm trying to think of it as a sign from God blaring the message: THIS WASN'T THE PLACE FOR YOU ANYWAY!!! IT'S TIME TO MOVE ON TO THE BIGGER AND BETTER THINGS I HAVE FOR YOU!!! AND I SHALL PUNISH THEM WITH LASHINGS OF FIRE AND BRIMSTONE!!! (Maybe that last part was more me, than God. Don't want to give Him a bad name.) Anyway, all that is hard to accept when I truly believe that it was God who landed me here late last August at the end of a summer of joblessness and nights on my friends' couch for over a month. No one could beat, or stop my jig of praise. So now what do I do? My mom keeps trying to insinuate that it's my boss's fault, that he wasn't a good supervisor. But then she taught me to take responsibility for my actions, so I can't accept her insinuations either. There are two sides to every story, and it's not all his fault.

What it all boils down to is that I guess I don't know everything, and while I like to think that I don't know everything just for the sake of saying "I don't know everything" to make myself appear more humble than I really am, I REALLY DON'T KNOW EVERYTHING. Actually, I feel quite stupid. Thanks, University of California, Berkeley! for graduating me with a degree in English! That's not saying much. Yale graduated Bush, and he's an idiot. Really.

To top it off, I'm having trouble dealing with all of this. Oh, I'm going through the motions - looking for another job, updating my resume, etc. But that does not assuage or erase the fact that I might carry my incompetence into the next job. It's looming over my head like the Grudge (the children's storybook Grudge, not PG13 crappy Grudge). Not only do I feel quite incompetent, I'm also battling the idea of being stupid, and struggling with the ignorance of how to overcome all this junk.

What do you do when the things you cannot tolerate find a home in you? I guess that's where the lesson of tolerance begins. And I guess that's why it's so hard to learn.

Step 1: Admitting that you have a problem...