Just Pretty?

Break out the coffee, this is your morning reading for the
day...lol...it'll be a long one...

Growing up a chunky chickadee, I was always uncertain about my beauty.
This was an age before Mo'nique telling us that skinny bitches are evil
or Toccara telling us that she would be the first plus-size supermodel.
This was an age where my relatives would feed me friend chicken, mac n
cheese, collard greens, and yams for LUNCH and then scold me by saying I
was always "big as a house" and that I would be so much prettier if I
lost weight.

I made sure I was smart, if not pretty. I was in all honors/AP courses
in school and in the top 10% of my class.

I didn't think I was pretty until I was 16 years old. I had been
involved in a grassroots movement for racial equality. Yes, these relics
of the Black Panther Party still exist and I was a dutiful member. I
learned about black history for the first time in a long time. There
were documentaries, news artcles, movies, a whole world of blackness
that went beyond my aunt's kitchen, the hot comb, learning Swahili in
elementary school, and Martin Luther King.

I chopped off all of my permed hair, sported a mean 'fro, and started
dressing differently. It was a confidence I had not yet known before.
The beauty I found was based on what I truly began to see in the mirror.
I was faced with some hefty opposition. My boyfriend of 3 years said
that he couldn't date a woman with natural hair. My mom said that
everyone would laugh at me. I should save myself the embarrassment.

But for the first time, I really could care less. I stopped eating meat.
I played sports. I felt great.

>>>> FFWD>>>

I started competing in balls/beauty competitions. The person I used to
be is inconsequential, but my confidence wanes from time to time because
of those past memories.

Needless to say, I have a brain. I have a "broad sense of humor" as LH
puts it. I have an opinion about everything. If it's something I haven't
heard about, I will research it and form an opinion on it.

RecentGuy after 2 weeks of "talking" almost all day with our thumbs
(sidekick), when asked what he thought of me, said, "You're so pretty."

I was floored.

"That's it?"

"You have a nice body, too"

I was in the basement.

And eloquently told him that if that's all he had to say he had missed
the point, wasted my time, and I no longer was interested in him. He was
floored. He called me "frigid."

He was indignant.

And now he's history.

Zombie

I didn't sleep Saturday night. I slept 14 hours Sunday night.
I slept 2 hours Monday night and my body is 2.5 away from shutting the hell down.

WTF is wrong with me?

Oh yea, did I mention I'm working 7 days straight this week?

Let's see if I make it to Friday!

dirty.old.men

I have been told I look younger than my [almost] 22 years. Many have said that I look to be about 16 years old. I ALWAYS get carded EVERYWHERE I go.
With that said, yes! when a man of a certain age looks at me a certain way I get skeeved the hell out.

Why are you looking at someone in a less than platonic way that LOOKS to be young enough to be your grandchild?

I said that to say there's a new hire at work that gives me the creeps. He looks at me like I'm lunch. I make a point to cover my face with my hair, my boobs with a sweater or my arms, and to avoid all eye contact.

The last time I felt this way toward someone at work, that person ended up being an addict that never came to work the day after we got paid..HABITUALLY. He also bragged to others that worked with us that he cooks cocaine in his house and sells it and he was trying to enlist them in his madness.

My instincts are good.
So I'm staying the hell away.

Ohhhh Hell Nah!

The bitch in me is rearing its ugly head.

It may be sleep-deprivation.

It may be that I just feel like being a bitch.

Anywhoo...customer service is not where it is for me anymore.

Why?
Because I'm human fucking being and I deserve RESPECT.

Aretha had that shit pegged.

Silly me? I was taught to get respect you have to give that shit.

It is not reciprocal.

I know what set me off, too.

It was Twin.
Conversation was going well.
I asked him. Should I get a puppy.

He brings up the Gypsy situation.

Pause.

First of all, I think of myself as a nice hippie-chick. I'm a (Type A) free spirit who doesn't judge people for their choices ESPECIALLY my friends and I expect my friends to do the same.

With Twin, he always does that. Someone mentions something negative, he automatically comes up with some shit I did in the past. Two years ago when we met, I had the misfortune of slapping him. It was not a hard slap. It was after a few drinks and it was apart of a joke I was telling.

EVERY FREAKING TIME someone slaps someone or someone mentions some kind of trauma...here he goes, talking about..yea the time Nina hit me...I already told him..let it gooooo...

He says he's not the type to let it go. But, I am the type to slap your ass again so you have something new to bring up.

Play.
I let his ass have it. We probably won't talk for a few days which probably means that he won't make my birthday dress...but I DON"T GIVE TWO YOUKNOWWHATS...

and I was trying not to cuss anymore...

If I did something to offend you and that was not my intention, I will make sure I make it up to you. If I've made a mistake in my life, as a friend, YES let me know. DO NOT KEEP THROWING SHIT IN MY FACE.

It's not funny. It's fucking hurtful.

motherfuckers...

Love

"Tell me you love me," I telepathically screamed at him. Willing him to
validate that I meant something to someone - meant something to him. He
was my entire world. I could literally breathe him into myself and be
complete. On the outside, I was cool as a cucumber sitting at the
opposite side of the bed needing something from him; something that even
I on a conscious level could not discern.

"Tell me you love me," I whispered into the pillow as I buried my head
deep into it.

And then he grabbed me. And he pulled me into him - a little spoon to
his big spoon. And he whispered into my ear.

"Punk," he said.

I laughed. Our inside joke- the desert of my soul cracking, revealing a
river beneath.

"I love you, too," I whispered into his dark chocolate skin.

Stream-of-Consciousness

Thanks for rolling with me. Hopefully these past few entries make sense.

Semi-colon

And I question whether or not we were right in our decision.
And I wonder if I moved to a town where I only know him, 8 hours away
from this life that I built around me if it would work.
And I think of him every day.
And I wish that things were black and white...not just shades of gray.
And I wish the tears would fall when I beckon them.
And I wish I could hate him.
And I wish there was bitterness to drive away.
But there is frustration.
But there are questions.
But there are things only for him that I would do.
But there is so much time spent longing, loving, and living together.
But, I would walk the circumfrence of the Earth for him if I knew that
things would be ok.
But I wish they were.
But I remember when things were good.
But I know there is still love bubbling inside of both of our hearts.
But my arms still miss him.
But in the back of my mind, there is still hope.

Comma

I looked at him through new eyes.

"Pathetic," I thought and my heart broke.

He stared back at me, oblivious as to what I was thinking. Or maybe not
so oblivious.

"Why can't you be who I want you to be?" I thought.

He stared at me oblivious as to what I was thinking. Or maybe not so
oblivious.

I looked away, desperate for the tears not to well up into my eyes.

"I wish I'd met you at a different time in my life," he said, "this
isn't working."

And I wished I could kiss him. I wished my kiss would silence him. I
wished my kiss would right things. I closed my eyes tightly wishing it
was all a dream.

I wished I would never love another as I did him in that moment. For in
that moment, I knew the meaning of inconvenient love. I also knew the
meaning of all-encompassing, can't-breathe-without-you love.

And then, we parted ways as if there were a comma in our sentence. There
was never a period. We both knew that his was not the end. Rather, a
pause in our story. And in that moment, I was comforted and afraid. I
needed a definite end. I needed for that chapter to close so that I
could compartmentalize yet another someone in my life, forget about him,
and move on.

My heart was still hogtied to his and as we walked away from each other,
I felt it rip from my chest. Pulsating on the ground before me, I was
helpless.

I let myself walk away.

Snapshot

3am.
I was walking around in my favorite 4 inch black suede pumps. Cleaning.
Like a mad woman. My newly sewn-in 16inch jet black weave cascading down
my back. I made sure to flip it dramatically from time to time for no
reason at all for my own amusement..throwing caution to the wind that I
had to be out of the house by 5:30 for work. I laughed at the picture
of myself. Gray oversized shirt, white panties, black shoes and a broom
in my hand. Moments like these, I'm glad I live alone. Even
though....having a male accoutrement would have made things
interesting.....*wink*

Quickie

Spotted: Medusa crying in bathroom. Overheard saying not going to be at
work on Saturday.

Now, I'm mysteriously working her Saturday hours which means I have my
Sunday/Monday off. Which means I finally get what I've only been asking
for for the past year.

One person's fuck-up is the next one's gain...

Things that make you go hmmmmm.........

Toxicity Level 8

And the succubus was taken into the office with several administators. Hearts were anxious and full of hope.

Had she slain herself with her own tongue?

There were raised voices as they gathered there for over an hour.

The flag was raised.

Medusa lives on.

She denied ever using the word. She claimed others were encouraging her to speak her grievances. Her hand was slapped. She'll make sure she's not a bad girl.

***
Crazy story.
Another employee (Israeli Jew) called another employee (West African) the "n" word. Twice.
He was fired. 2 weeks later, he was rehired. The West African raised sand. He was fired again.

The question was posed.....who was worse: the person who used it or the person who rehired him after knowing the reason why he was fired.

***
I know (Hostess) that its crazy to talk about work unless the situation has blown over or is in the past, but if someone can sit in the middle of a group of people and call one of them a name and get a "warning," I can put that shit out in the open and not give 2 shakes....

***

Quote of the year: To stay in a situation that you know is toxic is disrespectful to your soul.

It is apparent, I must move on professionally.

Good Day to Everyone!

Just write something.

I looked at my hands begging for them to obey me. The thoughts were swirling in my head like enigmatic butterflies. Alas, I was without a net.

Just write something.

I beseeched the words to flow through fingertips that refused to move, digits unresponsive and time is running out.
The butterfly wings are flapping faster and there is a whirlwind tunnel.

Just.

I'm exhausted and weak.

Write.

I'm always so exhausted.

Something.

Fighting against the sea of fatigue, avoiding the stingrays of self-doubt, seeing Murphy's Law floating past, I am trying

to JustWriteSomething.

The "S" Word

Her furor was not quenched by the 10 minute tirade she performed for all
around her. She sat there, spewing obsenities, semeingly becoming more
andmore enraged the more she spoke. They all stared at her, not wanting
to encourage, helpless on how to disarm her. Her tongue held heavy
artillery. She was locked and loaded. She was shooting to kill and had
been undefeated. An urban Medusa, she had become the one to avoid. Folks
avoided her eyes out of fear, their hearts would become stone. She spat
it out like patois: hard and fast. "That spic"

It sounded foreign, stunning them as it rang in their ears.

She quieted. The first wave of anger passing over them as they all
sighed, lucky to have ridden the tsunami out.

The refused to speak, the pink elephant in the room looming over them.
Yet, they still ignored it, not wanting to deal with the ramifications.
They were disgusted.

She started up again. Determined to cause more chaos, she grew louder.
Her voice echoed throughout the office. Her anger seemed manufactured
now. Her grievance not justifying the her actionsm as if any could
justified. Bolder now, she said it again.

But, there was one among them. Refusing to be quiet, she revealed her
sword and sliced against her throat. She informed management of the use
of the racial slur.

Will Medusa lose her head?

(*this is a dramatization of what happened at work on Saturday while I
was out.)

A Monkey in a Cynic's Suit

When did I start to think all men were full of shit?
If not all, then 65%? When did I think words like beautiful were words
only uttered when something was at stake? When did I start making others
pay for the sins of the last man? Me? The eternal optimist when it came
to relationships?

He left me a message asking for a chance to get to know me.

I didn't respond and I'm not entirely sure why.

He left another message asking again and requesting that I respond even
if I weren't interested.

I consulted Twin.
I needed my behavior validated.

I wanted something from this man. Maybe more bells and whistles.

Twin called me an asshole.

The assessment was correct. I had no good reasons for requesting
anything more than simplicity. Under normal circumstances, ifanything
more than that had ocurred, I would've called it fake.

I responded.
We exchanged im info.
We chatted on aim

I was being a dick.
He soldiered on.
He wore me down with his non-verbal insistence that he's a good guy.

He's honest.

He's nice.

We'll see.....

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

We lay together, a frenzy of sheets and comforters about us.
Comfortable, in our cocoon, we tangled our limbs together in a fury of
kisses and caresses. As the bitter cold of Winter lashed out on exposed
raw skin, we were the essence of heat;two warm bodies intertwined in
every way. We were a run-on sentence - fluent in our constant affection
for each other. I needed him. I loved him with my whole heart. Skin on
skin. Brown eyes looking into brown eyes. Fingers interlaced. Big spoon.
Little spoon. Back kisses. Insatiable. Our thirst for each other -
unquenchable. We thought we were so adult as we ordered pizza and
decided to spend the day together in bed, watching movies and cuddling.
We were so smug in thinking we would never be apart. We fell face-first,
head-on into a love to adult for us. It seemed so simple - loving
someone with your whole being and expecting not to be devoured.

But for that moment....I knew I loved a man and he loved me back. It was
comfortable, all-encompassing, and complete. Then end hit us like a Mack
truck. But, with all the heartbreak and disapppointment, I will remember
this day and smile. I will long to be transported back to that snapshot
in my mine. The way we were.

Talk of the Town...

The invites have been sent. My 22nd birthday is a....GO?

I have planned an excellent birthday weekend for myself.

It goes like this...

Friday: club
Saturday: hair, nails, toes, drinks then club
Sunday: club or Jake's superbowl party
Monday: (might make the parental unit spring for breakfast)then dinner

(yeap...just about does it)

(February 4th is the date. I expect scores of well wishes.)

I hate planning things because I expect that it will be me and my mom there and that is all.

Let the excitement/nervousness begin!

Absurd Shit in NYC Part Deux

Walking out of my apartment, ridiculously late for work, I saw someone
in the distance. There's a driveway right in front of my building. I saw
a group of people standing at the end of it. I immediately grew
cautious. As I walked toward the figures (no one is gonna scare me away
from getting this money), I noticed it was a woman and her 2 male
friends were standing guard. She was squatting with her pants by her
knees and was URINATING in my driveway. What the fuck is wrong with
people.

I said, "Hey!"
"I'm finished now," she replied, pulling her pants up.
I was flabbergasted.

One of her friends were like "Hey, how you doin lil mama"

I flipped my hair with all the fury I could muster.

To top things off, they were DRUNK!

Who gets drunk and walks around Brooklyn at 12 in the afternoon?

Furthermore, how far away were you from home/the crackhouse when you
decided you HAD to use the outside of someone's home as a fucking
bathroom!!!

*shakes head*

Torquoise...

I've been feeling a little blue.

I've worked ever since I was 13 years old. I worked 13 hour days doing
data entry for a company that was having a huge PR event and needed to
catalog every person along with their address and phone number. It was
the best. I had my own money and I had something to do all day. I got my
first bank account and first learned how to squander away money. I
remember the first thing I bought was a Coach belt. I walked through the
World Trade Center every morning and looked at all the shops beckoning
me to spend my cash.

That summer marked the rest of my life. My parents no longer provided
anything more than the necessities. Shelter, a home-cooked meal, a
winter coat, winter boots, etc.

Ffwd>>
My job has drastically cut my hours and I've found myself at home more
than I am at work and that scares me. I have rent to pay and various
other bills. A person that doesn't work doesn't eat. I don't know what
to do.

I've updated my resume but it seems every industry is slow during this
time. I tried to get comfort from my mom. She has none. (Like she ever
does.) I'm trying not to get down....but I can't help it. This pay
period's check goes toward my birthday. It looks like I will only have
money for rent, lights, phone, and maybe cable...which means...no hair
or new shoes...which I was hoping for. Last year's birthday sucked ass.
I really wanted to bring in the big 2-2 with a bang. My friends said I
wouldn't have to worry about anything, but they have their own shit.

I HATE THIS!!

I actually broke down and cried this afternoon. Apparently, I'd been
getting free gas. Right before Christmas, there was a leak in front of
my building and when Keyspan came out and fixed the leak, they shut down
my gas. I called them to re-light my pilot in my stove and the lady gave
me an all day appointment. When I called back to reschedule, I was told
I didn't have an active account. I told them that my landlord pays for
the gas. They told me that there is no gas in my apartment and that the
landlord may control the heat, but the stove, I would have to turn on in
my name.

I cried out of frustration of being lied to. I cried out of frustration
of having yet ANOTHER bill. I just felt so defeated and the weight of
the world was weighing down so heavily on my shoulders.

(This is just a rant. I don't really want comments on this post.)
Stay Fab!

A Funny Thing Happened....

So, I got all dolled up and decided I was going to go to another ball.
My ride came an hour late (but that's another story) and on my way
there, realized I didn't have my I.D.

Yes....oh responsible Nina who checked her bag 10x to make sure she had
her keys and money forgot she needed I.D to get in the club.

Either go home and come back and the ball would be over or ......

I had a lightbulb moment.

Go to Twin's job. Get his I.D. even though he's 5'11 and I'm 5"1. Yes,
even though he's a tad lighter than me. Yes, even though his extra I.D
is expired.

I forged ahead, valiant that I would not be defeated.

I walked up to the bouncer and told him I was a transexual. (Yes, I
did.)

Walked downstairs. Told the second bouncer I was a tranny, too. He
believed me but something told him it wasn't right. He scanned my I.D.
He stared at me. He made me verify "my" address, "my" D.O.B.
Everything.

He called over another bouncer. Not good.

The other bouncer was not a believer. Thus, I was thrust out into the
cold. He scolded me for not getting my I.D changed over.

I took a costly cab home.

I'm deeply embarassed and ashamed.

A Prisoner of....

The sound haunted me. I became a prisoner in my own home and I was
powerless. Each day as it echoed in my brain, I was reminded of my
uselessness. No one would listen to me. No one would understand my pain
as it was relentless in its torture of my senses.

And then the landlord called. She'd heard it to. I was not alone in this
sick game. She'd been victim to it as well. Gloriously, I was not
alone in my plight. She would be my golden ticket out of a world of
dispair.

The men came quickly and worked hard to rid me of my captor.

They fixed my leaky bathtub. Now, I won't have the smell of mildew in my
bathroom.

Awesomeness.
(Like the style of writing? Hehe)

Last night...

The ball was horrible. I got there at 2am. It was supposed to start at 12:30, so I calculated that into C.P. time and thought I would get there right on time. The line was down the block from the place. I took my place in the queue.

A 1/2 hour passes. WTF?

Geniuses are letting people in 5 at a time because the only way to get in is through an elevator. Thing is, there has to be at least 100 people waiting outside.

Another 1/2 passes. I am certain that if I tried to bend my big toe, it will snap clean off.

Another 1/2 hour passes, I'm trying to convince Twin to leave with me. There's an icebox where my body used to be and NINA stands on line that long for NO ONE (except Twin.) :0(

A fight breaks out. Someone got pissed off enough to try and take out one of the bouncers. Its like something from a movie. People are breaking bottles over other people's heads. Its crazy.

Then the cops show up.

I'm scared shitless. Because we all know, cops + black people = someone's gonna get hurt. Twin and I zoom outta there.

We try to get a cab and then remember we are black in Downtown Manhattan. I call a company car and get the worst driver in the fleet. By this time, after standing in the cold in 4 inch heels, my hot sexy pencil skirt, and tiny leather jacket, my knees and ankles aren't really responding the right way and I find myself screaming at the dispatcher who sent me that driver.

I regain my composure.

We drop Twin off and I make it home at 4:45 am.

I text one of my friends. Do you know fools were still trying to get in AFTER the cops showed up?

Just terr'ble.

Absurd Shit going on in NYC

Why was the guy walking next to me chomping on a rack of baby back ribs
going down 8th and 42nd St? Sauce was all on his fingers. It was a
little disgusting and unncessary. If you're going to buy ribs, at least
try to sit and eat them.

Anything less is uncivilized.

I walked by a couple of dudes. I heard one say "Hi sexy."

I kindly kept it moving.

30 seconds later, "Yo my mans said whatup"

Errrrrrrp.

No explanation necessary why I kept it moving.
This reminds me of something the Photog said to me.

"Big girls don't have low self-esteem anymore. You used to be able to
say whatever you want and they were desperate for play, they'd come
anyway. Things are different now"

Ummm....yea.

*shaking my head*

Hobos are funny. Not the fact that they are a hobo is funny, but what
they do to get money is a crackup. Walking down 6 Ave and W 4th Street
(New Yorkers know the are is NOTORIOUS for the underpriviliged set) a
friend I was with gave a homeless man 60cents. He exclaimed, "You're the
best. They don't come no better than you and goddamnit they never
will."

Hahahahaha!

Why the hell were these 2 women of the more ummm...full-figured set in
Duane Reade buying up whole lot of junk food. I mean cakes, cookies,
chips...all sort of craziness. At 11 o'clock at night. Frankly, I don't
give a shit what people do....but.....one of the chicks skipped me in
line. I mean what the fuck? To make matters worse, they used an EBT
(food stamps) card. Why the heck are you wasting government assistance
on that shit so late at night? Grrrrr...and AND it was declined. So they
wasted 10 mins loading a whole bunch of empty carbs on to the counter to
hold up the line to use a food stamp card that had nothing on it to turn
around and use another card. (*insert uplifting comment urging black
people to do better here*)

Ugh!

Lesson Learned + Goings On

I was racking my brain trying to figure out what my tryst with the
Photog meant and what lesson I could pull from the experience and all.
I'm upset about the entire ordeal, but here's what I learned.

1. Men that make a big deal about physical perfection/requirements in
their mate are less than up to par themselves and are compensating by
finding that perfection in you. The Photog routinely asked me about my
measurements. He was meticulous about things like my legs, my waist in
comparison to my hips, the firmness of my thighs, and I just thought it
was the photographer in him that made him ask this. In all actuality, if
he'd seen me naked upon first meeting me, he would've swooned. If I'd
seen him naked upon first meeting him, I would've thrown up.

2. Go with my instincts. I met a man on Saturday and immediately felt
butterflies. The attraction was instant. Chemical, even. I forced the
butterflies with the Photog. I'll never do that again.

And, with those 2 things, I close the book on him. I am officially over
it.

*
On the job front, I've been on shaky ground.
For the week of Christmas and New Year's, they cut me down to only 2
days a week and I had to hustle to make up the remaining hours. It
wasn't the most comfortable arrangement, but it was fine. They assured
us that the hours would be restored this week. Then when the schedules
went out for the week, they said that not all hours would be back. It
would be "according to errors made and skill level." They added a day to
my schedule. (But the kicker is....) they hired 3 new people. Hunh?

I was annoyed at Gi because she was complaining. I'm like stfu. You have
4 days, while I had 2. You still have 4 and I have 3. AND you make more
money than I do.

Needless to say, I am looking for another job.
While I'm still there, it is SO hard to get out the darn bed. If I can
get out of bed, its hard to get out the house. There's like a force
holding me back.

*
There's a ball coming up on Saturday. I'm not sure if I explained what
it was, but its basically sort of like an underground competition in the
categories of beauty, runway, and others. Usually, only gay men and
women participate. But, I'm the exception to the rule.

My category is beauty. I'm really concerned because I haven't been
sleeping well. I have bags under my eyes. I believe I'll win anyway
because if I don't, I might as well not compete.

Hopefully, it'll be fun. I think it will. I'm wearing a red sequined
shirt. Its the only place where sequins are still allowed. How can that
not be fun?
Anywho! Wish me luck!

*
There are some minor things going on. When they blow up more I'll post
on them.

I've added several new blogs I have to shout-out when I'm not on my
sidekick and not lazy. So look out and I'm thinking of posting my
favorite download list. Do you guys even care what music I like?

Til then...tata!

The Non-Spectacular Life

I've been known as a dreamer of sorts. I have big expectations out of
life and I like it that way. Why? Because the people who don't expect
good shit don't work to make that happen. If you put out negative vibes
the only thing you're gonna get back is negative shit.

Negativity positively exhausts me.

I've been through so much shit in my life and the only way that I've
held my head high is by not laying down and letting it run all over me.

Steve Harvey said that the difference between ordinary and extraordinary
is EXTRA.
He also said that people who don't want extra can sit down and they can
do just enough and their life can be ordinary. If you do a little less,
you'll have less than ordinary. That's up to you.

Yes, bitches, I choose to be EXTRA.

You don't want extra shit that's on you but don't snub me for wanting
more for myself.

Its like wtf!?! Life is so much more than what's in front of your nose.
It can be beautiful. It can be sparkly. Yes, it could be ugly and dirty.
But, the ugliness and dirt come to you automatically. Aren't you sick of
that?

I am.

I'm so sick of people having the woe is me shit!
I'm sick of people not even fucking trying to be a little extra. A
little pinch of sugar can do a whole world of good.
I'm sick of people thinking I woke up and had this self-esteem, this
outlook on life, this knowledge of fashion and make-up, and everything.
Nothing comes to you by osmosis and everything I know I sought out that
knowledge.
I'm sick of people looking at me like I should apologize for my life.
I refuse to apologize for the sparkle in my eye and the switch in my
step.
I'm sick of people CHOOSING to be unhappy.
Yes, its a fucking CHOICE. Happiness is not a one time thing. One big
thing doesn't just happen and bam, ur happy. You have to constantly
motivate yourself. Encourage yourself to be happy.

No.

People look to others to make them happy. They look to friends, a job,
or a bank account. That's apart of the big picture. But, it starts on
the inside.

And that, ladies and gents is the crux of this ramble.

I'm tired of people who feel shitty on the inside. Why? Because its
inherent in me to make people feel better about themselves. But, that
shitty feeling spills over and sprinkles on everyone around you. Old
wench misery loves some fucking company and she's a bitch.

But as for me, I'm about living. Truly living my life. I am going to
ride this shit til the wheels fall off. So, I say....sit in your fucking
cocoon and don't try to clown me because you are COMPLACENT in your
non-spectacular life.

Lastly, I'm sick of wanting more for you than you want for yourself. And
so, I'm done.

I'm focused on myself.
This bitch is reborn.

Cohorts!

Me: I wanna blow this taco stand. Go to London for 3- 6 months.
KT: Yea, I want to work there and live there for a while.
Me: OMG! We're soulmates.
.....

KT: Yeah, I have friends there.
Me: Would you mind if I tagged along with you? Do you think you could go
by this summer.
KT: No, I don't mind. No, not this summer.
Me: OMG! I'm so happy, I could squeal.

.....

KT: Yea, so, we should start planning in the fall for summer '09
Me: Yay! Let's disco-boogie!

And this is the story of how KT and I made our plan to take over the
world.

What Dreams are Made Of

London.
2010.
Me. Possibly Twin or Older Brother
For approximately 6months to a year.
Because I have no ties to anything here right now and I need to go
before the movie V for Vendetta comes true. And before I piss away my
20s not being impulsive .

My friends are supportive. But, we'll see when the time comes near. I
have so many affairs to get in order. But...if I could pull this off, my
awesomeness would be to the the 5th power.

Anyone have any suggestions on places to live, visas/passport help or
words of wisdom?

Was it Good for You (Revisited)

If you visited the blog between 11pm and 11am, you would've seen a
totally different post.

I've been reading blogs by other women and they have strong feelings
against kissing and telling and it affected me. I didn't want to divulge
too much and seem like a whorra. I don't like being crass or vulgar.
But, you know....this is my blog. This year, I resolved within myself to
tell it like it is.

And with that.....the post that should've been on this blog last night.

Was it Good for You?

I called him as I approached my apartment full of hope and
expectations.

"I'll be there in 40 mins. I'll call you when I'm on my way."

I squealed to myself. Finally, the fruition of our late night talks.

An hour barely passed and I got a call.

"I'm on your block."

I was totally unprepared. I hadn't lit the incense or selected a sexy
outfit. I brought him up to my apartment. He commented. He sat on my
couch. He immediatedly grabbed at my legs.

Ummm...ok.

I kissed him. Gently.

He lunged at me, his tongue sticking out straight like a sword, slaying
the dragon that was my mouth. I think at one point, he licked my teeth.

Ummmm.....ok

He acted quickly. Taking off my clothes and buried his head in my chest.
Ouch. His beard scratched my skin. He's a biter.

From then, it didn't get better. It was awkward. At times, I felt like
he was examining me - like he had a checklist. Firm breasts, thick solid
thighs, nice butt..check.check.check.check. I always had that lingering
feeling from our conversations. Yet, physically, I was not attracted to
him.

He is really hairy. His chesthair and backhair are so long, I could
braid it. A fact he didn't mention before. He's really really skinny.
With clothes on, he appears bigger because he puts on 3 layers of
clothes. A fact he didn't mention before. The two put together gave the
illusion that I was molesting a 12 yr old. (I know it sounds harsh...but
oh well)
I'm a big woman. I like to feel submissive in the bedroom. He didn't
have the physical accomodations for that but even in his
attitude....close but no cigar.

At the end of it, I wanted to kick him out. Instead, I put on my clothes
and hoped he'd get the hint.

We watched *the full hour* of The Unit. (!!!)
I said I was tired to which he replied, "Oh that must be my cue."

After which he proceeded to use the bathroom before he left. (I still
can't believe this) He peed with the door open. It sounded like a
waterfall. (Disgusting)

He said he'd call me today and I'm hoping not.
I tried being nice but I was so over it.
I can't hide anything on my face.

I had all these rules for relationships and had a vague idea of the guy
I'm interested in. He didn't fit the mold, yet I persevered. I now
remember why I had these rules.

Lesson learned.

I told my girl friends, next month this will all be hilarious!

So much for drama-free...

The night air circled around my ankles as I clutched the take-out order of Chinese in my hand. I felt extra cool in my electric blue hoodie, red leather jacket, my hair cascading down my shoulders and my skinny jeans snuggly hugging my thighs.

As the black Range Rover pulled up and I heard the voice say, "May I talk to you for a minute," I thought..."What the hay?"

He hopped out of the car, tall and big. I thought of my good fortune and knew I would give him my number.

But then, he spoke. He asked me two questions.

"Where do you live?"

"What is your name?"

In that order and in that instant, I was offended and carefully declined.

"You're going to blow me off after I took the time to say hello?"

Ummmm....yes, I said, swinging my hair, jamming my hands into my pocket.



"What does he think I am?" was the only question clouding my mind as I shook my head and walked home.