Saturday, May 31, 2008
Anyway, Barbara’s revelation got me to thinking and then Sister Toldja’s post got me to develop that thought. I’ve never been a woman who looked for other women’s men, however they always seem to be looking for me ( I think this is true for most women) and because this blog is semi-anonymous I won’t really go all into my sorted personal business too deep. I think my mom may read this and I KNOW my Godmother does occasionally, if you are either of those women or friends of those women, please skip all the way through this to the part of the blog and begin where it starts with "Be EZ". I must warn you if you choose to read this is about to be what is called Real Talk! I told you this blog is about it all the good, the bad, and well you know the rest! I try to give the full picture of myself if nothing else when I write.
The AFFAIR, the Mistress, and the man.
As most of you know I am pretty honest and open about who I am and what I’ve done with in reason. I don’t try too put on to many heirs about who I am and what I will and won’t do, because the one thing I have found in my 35 years of roaming that anything can happen. And while I don’t expect there will be a day where I am walking around yelling at the top of my lungs “Momma I smoked the TV!!” I will not sit here perched a top a HUGE box of Tide doing cape swirls with my cloak of self-righteousness about too many things.
When I was younger I had all kinds of what I would and wouldn’t do’s and I wish a negro woulds, but lets just say some of those things all so confidently KNEW I wouldn’t not do, I have not only done. Some of those things I am STILL doing and loving every minute of it. I mean you name it from sexual positions, you want me to put my foot where?, to sexual partners ,I would never let him get it, , from food, I don’t do sushi, from only dating men 2 or more inches taller than, girl he is too short to go out with me. I have learned to eat my words. Lets put it this way I love sushi and my ex was 3 inches shorter than me. In an effort to keep some decorum I won’t comment on the other stuff I mentioned up there. Like I said I have a laundry list of nevers that turned into maybes and hell yeahs! Hell even Oprah said she smoked crack once and I’m telling y’all that is on my least likely things I’ll ever do list, but I ain’t saying NEVER, because you know THE MINUTE you do…
Anyway, if you use those examples as your basis then I will say it would be fair for you to make the assumption that I have been the mistress of a married man or two (or probably more, cause I’m sure I’ve dated a man who had a wife and didn’t tell me). I have been the “other girl” to a man with a significant other a time or two as well (again I invoke the same maybe 10 or 20 rule here, as it seems many of us, men and women, apply what she don’t know won’t hurt us rule to many of our relationships). And I will even go ahead and let you presume that I have been those things knowingly a few times in that lot.
Now, just because I have been all those things doesn’t mean I plan on being any of them again or I thought it was ok to be any of them in the first place, but what I think it means is that for what ever reason we all get caught up. I think every woman has her weakness, maybe she can stand firm in never dipp in another’s cookie jar, but perhaps she just walks around doing dirt in other ways. Who knows? How can a smart, intelligent, self-assured woman get caught up with Somebody Else’s Guy? I think that answer is simple.
First, I would like to say I have walked in each pair of these women’s Jimmy Choo’s, the mistress, the other girl, the wife, and the girlfriend. I would like to think because of this my perspective is one from all sides. I have always been level headed in my expectations, or should I say I have lived with no expectations while being the mistress, other girl, and girlfriend. I must be honest and say as the wife I EXPECTED but not really when it came to fidelity. I know thats odd but that's me. I have never expected that, not sure why. However I should say for the most part I have received fidelityin most of my relationships, but not always.
The answer is there really isn’t anything as I am too pretty to be second or I have more self respect than that. The answer really lies in what your needs are as a woman. I know and have know for quite sometime that I can have a man on whatever level I chose, as a friend, friend with benefit, boyfriend, or husband. Maybe not the exact man I may chose but a man. I actually believe that all women can, but that is a debate to have in another blog.
With that being said I have never been a sit around and wait for my prince charming to come kinda girl, I have been a move around and bump into someone that seems cool for me to kick it with kinda girl. I don’t have these long lists of what my man can and can not be and I don’t have a vision board with men in suits and abs of steel posted in my room or filed in a mental folder marked husband.
Not to say that I have always been like this, let’s just say a life of dating, marrying and divorcing gives a woman a different perspective on life and love. My requirements for a man are simple and have been for quite sometime, someone that I enjoy spending my time with. I don’t need him to make as much or more than me, I don’t need him to have job that requires a white collar, advance degree, or expense account. I don’t even need him to take me on a date and pay for me. I mean all those things are nice but when we talk about needs vs. wants. All I need from a man plain and simple is to be able to fully and wholeheartedly enjoy his company, if things are real good that would be BOTH mental and physical, but sometimes those two things are mutually exclusive with some men. Again another blog for another day!
So back to Ms Walters and her disclosure of her affair with a black man from Massachusetts, I think often for women who are ambitious an affair is the perfect vehicle to operate a relationship from. Men, despite what they say require a lot of time and ego boosting. I am not at all saying what she did was right or what I have done was right I am saying the dynamic is not that of your typical mistress/some other woman’s husband relationship. I know when I had the affair I had it was because it allowed me to get lost and be a woman in those few times we were together. His wife had deal with all those nasty realities, that as someone else’s ex-wife, I wasn’t that good at. I liken being a mistress to visiting New York, it’s a fun place to visit but you don’t want to LIVE there.
Well, I was happy being visited because that allowed me all the other time to live. When I was married I caught my ex-husband in his little trysts, and I totally wasn’t mad at him for that. My life motto has been shyt happens... deal with it. I was mad at his smug attitude and trying to blame me for his choice. Had he come at me truthfully and said I made the choice maybe we could have worked it out. I know when I had my affair I always said if his wife ever called me up, ala Woman to Woman, I would agree I was wrong apologize and stop the relationship. I mean eventually I did stop the relationship because he, as so many men do, wanted to have a wife and girlfriend too. To many of you that might seem odd. I was not his girlfriend. To me a girlfriend is beholden to her boyfriend a mistress is not. A mistress is a single woman who is dating people and one of those people is a married man, she may even be sexually monogamous to that person, like I was, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t free to date and even leave her married man for a single man and become the single man’s gal.
Anyway, I was happy being a mistress; I never demanded any time I only took time he had. I never asked or wanted him to leave his wife. Hell he was the one wanting to leave her and I was the one asking him why and praying he didn’t. I know it sounds a bit woe is me to be saying this, but I didn’t want him to confuse our weekend romance with nuts and bolts of love (what I call the day in, day out kinda love). I think I know why Barbara shared her adulteress past with us, I think it was to let us know she is human and for women like myself to stop beating ourselves up about sometimes making the wrong choices. It is clear that Ms. Walters didn’t set out to destroy any families and I am glad that someone who has such a reputation had the guts to admit a wrong doing. I mean after all no one really cares, I mean other than Star Jones and don’t even get me started on that woman.
I mean her even sharing her story has allowed me to kinda come out and share this story, something very personal and hard to own up to, but life is gray and the older I get the grayer it seems to become, no pun intended. I think that is what I want anyone reading this to remember.
I think when I was younger I saw life a lot more black and white and pretty much everything I have stood on my soapbox ranting about while twirling my cloak of self-righteousness about I have had to re-evaluate. And I wouldn’t change it for the world!!
Ok this is enough honesty for a lifetime of blogs, back to the light stuff. I’ll be drinking Vanilla Stoli and Ginger Ale all weekend while watching Season 2 of Weeds, and standing in line to see SATC!! So expect some fluff next week people and maybe a few stories about the people at the movies! *lol*
Thursday, May 29, 2008
OK! OK !OK!!! I have to say something. I will say this blog is partly inspired from reading Zack’s blog the other day on DL celebrities and then reading the gossip blogs about Usher and his wife. Usher said this a few days back:
“I’m a guy that decided to marry a woman - a black woman - that wasn’t perfect, that had flaws, that through all in all, she’s been successful on her own. … and that’s a bad thing. I decided to marry this woman, then I decide to be a father to my child,’ he says with a laugh. ‘And that’s a bad thing. It’s not like I got caught with a gram of coke in my car or speeding or was caught for murder, so why would I be ridiculed, that’s why I don’t understand - that’s the part that is mind boggling. Why would I be ridiculed for that, even a year later.”
He also went OFF on MTV TRL about his wife. And I know all of this sounds more like publicity in the wake of his new CD release than real emotions, I have to say, I get Usher.
I don’t understand where SO MUCH of the HATE is coming from other than the fact that he has married some one outside the Black Hollywood fray. He married someone that we would consider normal. Some may call her unattractive or what ever or old, but hey she looks like a regular ol’ sister to me and I really think that is the problem.
If Tameka Foster had been Rozanda “Chile” Thomas* the world would have been giddy with all this fan fare of love. I mean after all she was older than him and I remember how CUTE everyone thought it was when she popped up in videos etc. I mean no one was shouting he’s gay when he was with her or when he wrote and sang Confessions, which was about doing her wrong. However now that he has decided to MARRY a regular ol’ black woman who already has a child and an ex husband the whole world just can’t believe that he would pick someone who, to them, didn’t stand up to media perfection. Would people even be talking and speculating if Usher had hooked up with someone we deemed physically worthy of him. This is nothing but the Hollywood version of seeing the fine man in the mall with some fat, BB-Tam** (bad built than a mutha pucker), ugly woman. “Why is HE WITH HER?!?” is always what the people (mostly catty ass women, gay men, and bitchass men) whisper as they pass by them holding hands and in being in love. Look there is a reason they say beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
I just am saddened that we can’t seem to celebrate black love when it doesn’t meet our standards of beauty. I mean look at all the hoopla and what not over Jay and Bey. It is easier for the world to see why she loves him than Usher and Tameka. Really the issue is that Usher is a man and as a man he isn’t allowed to be deep and fall in love with someone who isn’t a Beyonce or Kim Kardashian. I mean because he didn’t chose eye-candy or a starlet of the moment he has to be gay now and this has to be a cover up sham, it couldn’t possible be that he is not as shallow as we think he is. Wow!
Look there are plenty of young men who like older women I can’t even remember the last time a man who was my age actually tried to holler. I get a steady stream of men from 27-32 always trying to holler. Actually there are younger but 27 is MY CUT OFF! Plus we already KNOW Usher likes older women. Or maybe we thought he liked Chile because she looked his age, maybe he liked her because she was a GROWN ASS WOMAN!! How about that! And maybe he likes GROW ASS WOMEN because we, unlike our younger counterparts, are comfortable with who we are and we know what we will and won’t do … (another blog for another day!)
Now I’m not saying he isn’t gay and she isn’t a beard, but DAMN why wasn’t nobody saying that when he was dating Chile who for all intents and purposes held the same resume as Foster. Older than him, already had children, ghetto azz names (no disrespect to the Tamekas and Rozandas out there…but um) and established in her career. The difference well the obvious difference she was and is considered desirable by the entertainment world, not just some regular ol’ black woman, but an exotic concoction with “good hair” and tawny colored skin exposing her taught mid drift at every turn. I mean SERIOUSLY!
My BFF is convinced that there is a war on the black woman. I mean it just seems it s not good enough to be just plain ol black woman these days. You have to be mixed with something or from another country or something. If I told you how many men always asking what country I’m from or what nationality I am or am I mixed, what happen to just being a plain ol' negro! (another blog for another day... man this list of blogs to write is getting long)
Ok that’s all I have to say about it. I mean maybe Usher is gay and Tameka is a beard I mean really it’s possible, but at the same time couldn’t it be possible that he could fall in love and marry someone who was less than perfect? I’m just asking.
* I will be calling her Chile through out because I , like her, like Chile better and I REFUSE to type Rozanda too many times, okay more than once.
** I am warning you now WHEN I see BB-Tam (pronounced B-B-Tam) popping up everywhere you better recognize. I’m tired of using terms and shyt and people just take ‘em like they made them for ex: Glamazon (been using it since the millennium began BABY), B-Rock as opposed to Barrack but Imma let that slide really I am, HillBilly (to refer to Hillary and Bill). Look I’m just saying maybe I should start copy writing this shyt. BTW BB-Tam is not mine. It is a term introduced to me by Bus Chick (and used frequently by her ex boyfriend and his frat brothers). However if it blows up into universal slang like Glamazon is trying to I WILL, I repeat, I WILL take credit for the slang going world wide!
Sunday, May 25, 2008
If I would have stayed married, I would have been in year seven. Instead I am almost in the fourth year of being newly single. I have to admit I am completely and totally happy with my life and don't regret my decision to not continue in my marriage one bit. Sometimes I feel incredibly guilty for not missing being married at all. I asked my BFF is she thought something was wrong with me because I had absolutely no desire to be in a relationship and she assured me when the right man came along I would. The thing is I am almost sure the right man has come along. We have known each other for two years. Our friendship has gone up and down and back again. We love each other and yet I have no desire to be his girlfriend or wife or any of those labels I should want to be. Now before you get your panties in a wad, he is NOT pressuring me to be his girlfriend. We are happy being friends right now and neither one of us feels a need to be proclaimed as the other's S.O.'s. I mean for me the fact there is no pressure to be a girlfriend gives me a lot of freedom to live and love with out all the girlfriend expectations.
When I went home last weekend we spent it together. It was the first time we had spent that much time together uninterrupted. When we first met we saw each other every day, sometimes twice a day, for over a year. But we never spent 3 days 36 hours (give or take a few) together straight. The thing about it is it was completely easy. I feel completely at ease and myself with him. Something I never felt when I was with my ex or any of the men I have dated since and something I had only felt once before. It is not the giddy love I had with my first love but it does remind me of us in the fact that we are friends first and foremost. And like my first love I think we will always be friends, no matter what happens romantically.
He and I are like peas and carrots as Forest would say. He totally makes me feel like a woman. I really truly GET that Aretha song now. Which for me is hard. I realize as a woman I am hard to date. I'm opinionated, strong, fiercely independent, bull headed, a know it all, and the list goes on. I think some men are annoyed and or intimidated by that. I don't do traditional woman things like worry about the small shyt. Now don't get me wrong I have, but when I matured in these years and worked on being the kinda woman I really wanted to be and not who the world expected me to be, I realized so many things really aren't that important to me. I do know I am a good woman and if you can get through all my armour, you will find that out. However I like and am most comfortable as one, a single girl. I think because my person is the one thing I have the most control over and I like to be in control of myself and my life as much as possible as long as possible.
I don't need you in my face all the time. I don't care if you do your own thing for days at a time. I don't expect to talk to you everyday or for hours on end. I don't even care about what you are doing when we aren't together. As long as I feel loved and respected and you pay attention to me, somewhat, when we are together I'm cool. I am not even that shaken by infidelity, maybe because I realize that sex and love are different. I understand that intimacy is far greater than slapping happies together. Now don't get me wrong I LIKE slapping happies, but if you don't have intimacy its just random sex. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
He is not at all threatened by my career success or my education or my intelligence because he knows who he is and is comfortable being that. He thinks I'm the shyt and understands and is proud every time I move up the ladder, a ladder I just realized that I was really climbing. He thought my sudden move to Boston was awesome and couldn't wait to be able to come visit me here. That is a pretty big thing to me, because my ex thought in order to be the man he had to be the breadwinner. While I thought we both could win "the bread" together. Even now the men I date often think I am cool, until they begin to realize how self-sufficient and low maintenance and sane I am. I think that the absence of drama scares them. He knows I'm a good woman and tells me. He tells me how much he appreciates me and he loves me and how important our friendship is to him. He is quite refreshing to me, after dealing with men who claimed not to care about my independence or earnings, but their actions said otherwise.
Anyway I am not really sure why I am writing this other than for the first time in a long time I love a man. And he loves me. It doesn't matter that we are not boyfriend girlfriend or husband wife. I doesn't matter about labels, what matters is I am happy. Plus I would never start a relationship while I am away from home. I don't think its fair to him or me. I LOVE that he doesn't feel the need to try to lock me down so I won't date here. I secretly think he knows that no one can compare to him, so date on if you must silly girl. I know that is how I feel about him and what he may be doing back home. I love that we can talk about anything. I love his confidence and swagger. I love that despite his flaws, hang ups, and situations he still commands my respect and my love. He is going through a lot of things right now and I find satisfaction that I can be his friend.
He told me I was the first woman he had ever been with who was his friend, he told me that all his life he had viewed women as pretty much play things. He told me that our friendship was the most important thing to him. He held me and I felt safe. I laid on his lap watching TV on a lazy Saturday afternoon and I felt it was ok to be all the things about women that I hate. If you know me, which most of you don't, you would understand.
Since you don't I will tell you that I decided as a girl that being like a boy was the way to go. Maybe it was watching my mother be mother and father to my brother and me or maybe it was watching my father womanize and discard women and raise me like his little Jr. I very much am a Charles Jr. I know how to take care of myself and I don't need any help and even when I do, I figure out how to help myself as much as I can, so I need as little assistance as possible. I know that my independence is and has been a deterrent to many men. I have had some tell me and others show me. I know my independence is both my strength and curse.
But with him I'm okay being weak and dependent and touchy feely and giddy and scared and VULNERABLE. I am ok laying on his chest as the morning sunrises. No, I am at peace laying on his chest in the morning sunrise. I love him with no expectations of him loving me back. I love him like blood and if he never loved me back I'd be okay, but it feels good that he does. Yes, my friends, I have always talked about what true love is and he let's me know I am capable of it. He lets me know that I am not cold and uncaring or broken. And for that I am grateful. No matter what happens to us I will always love him. That to me is enough. If we are never IN LOVE doesn't really matter to me.
I suppose that sounds a bit crazy and I must admit the fact I am even sharing this like some "woman" is a big step for me, but I feel I must share it. I feel I need to say it, I have to say it. It's part of growing up and facing your emotions. Its part of not worrying about what the world thinks of me. It's part of not being beholden to my ego which thinks being a silly, sappy woman loving someone and giving them a chance to hurt me is not being who I am. However, who I am is who I am and if I am a silly, sappy woman who loves someone with no expectations, then that is who I am. A woman who is whoever she is and what ever she feels. And knows what ever she feels is neither good or bad, but just that what she feels at that moment. It feels good. I feel okay about it, not like some whimpering sap.
Thanks for swirling around in my head with me today. I hope you have a happy Memorial Day and I'll talk with you guys later.
Friday, May 23, 2008
I commented and told her I don’t have a two year old to blame for any of the crap that is in my bag! She said something about what might be in my bag.
I must confess I love a big bag. The fact that I’m just 1 ½ inches short of the being a 6foota stunna ensures I can carry the BIGGEST of bags and not look like a little girl playing with her mother’s purses. Today for some Friday fun, I thought it would be fun to do a blog about what happens to be in my purse TODAY!
I’m warning you guys it’s like Prego!! Here are the contents of ONE ORIGINAL GLAMAZON’S Black H&M every day bag!
-Treo 750 cell phone with translucent pink neoprene cover
-Ipod Nano wit a patent leather Liz Claiborne cover (don’t hate I got that cover for $5 on the Best Buy clearance rack!)
- Clear makeup bag full of lip glosses, mascara, powder brushes, a tide pen, and anything that is liquid and needs to be scanned separately when going to the airport.
-Covergirl TruBlend bronzer 435 Golden Sunrise
-Bare Essentials tinted mineral veil
-A rogue lip gloss (Loreal Lipfinity 135 Posy)
-Isaac Mizrahi pocket book in black (outside) and hot pink (inside)
-Boring brown check bookcover with two checks books inserted from two of my three banks
-Half a pack of Orbitz Maui Melon Mint flavored gum
-Old work ID
-Keys to my Boston place on the coolest heart keychain (they came with it when I signed the lease)
-A leather Rice embossed credit card chain purse (this holds my cash most used cc’s and Charlie card T pass)
-New Amerykah CD by Erykah Badu ( DA TRUF!!)
-White Teeth by Zadie Smith bookmarked with mail pick up slip (bus reading!!)
-A Stray dollar
- 3 Rice lapel pins
-Take out menu from Uppercrust Pizza
-Vaseline Intensive Care Healthy Hand and Nail lotion
-Red digital camera (Kodak M763) in its cute little robins egg blue case
- Small writing tablet
-IceBreakers Sours in Pink Lemonade, Apple, Tangerine, and Watermelon flavors
-Las Vegas lighted compact mirror
-Small bottle of Excedrin Migraine caplets
-Purse size perfume (some fake J Lo Glo crap for emergencies)
-Band-Aid Blister Block Stick
-Several writing instruments (A Rice pen, mechanical pencil and Pilot Precise roller ball pen to be exact)
-Ring Pop (Man I keep forgetting I got that! I’m eating that sucker on the way home TODAY!!)
-Random trash consisting mostly of receipts, gum wrappers, a penny, and one stray Excedrin migraine caplet.
Lucky for you guys I drank my bottle of water or it would have been in there too! Also on days I wear high heels to work my flip flops are in there wrapped in a Target bag for the walk home after de-bussing.
The scary thing is it really isn’t heavy to me at all. I know I’m a freak.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
You know what I mean, we would have Wake Up! hosted by Bryant Gumble Robin Roberts and Al Roker doing the weather. Then maybe That’s Live with John Witherspoon and Kenya Moore. A game show hosted by the Brown Hornet, you know instead of the bee on Mexican TV. Then the obligatory daytime fair of black soap operas, Bea Smith and Oprah followed by The Evening News with Lester Holt. Then the night time line up would be ORIGINAL programming of fresh new dramas, sitcoms, date line/20/20 news shows, Barbara Walters style interview shows, Hardball/ Meet the Press type shows and reality all from the various different angles of black life there are. Lord knows if you hang out in the blogsphere enough YOU KNOW there are many different angles to black life! Not reruns, music videos, old black movies, and 106 and Park. To me, that is what black TV would/should be. *jumping off soap boxes and kicking it underneath my borrowed cloak of self-righteousness*
I know what AvgBro and the LA Time meant by black TV. They were talking about the decline of shows with all black or majority black casts. I, of course in OG fashion, left a LONG WINDED comment that didn’t even address or answer his question. I guess it’s because some of what he wrote sent me on some different shyt! Then after writing the comment, I posed this question, what is Black TV?
I mean I think of Grey’s Anatomy and Private Practice as black TV. They came out to of the head of a Black woman and the characters do and say things and are in situations that I can relate too. Rhimes doesn’t back away from race. The people in the hospital running the show are people of color. And while there are more white actors, the black actors are the decision makers in the hospital. The black Chief of Staff gives orders to everyone, black Dr. Bailey was in charge of those 6 crazy interns the show centers around and is now the Chief Resident after the other girl Dr. Torres couldn’t handle it, and before he left the show black Dr, Burke, like Dr. McDreamy, I mean Shepherd, was an attending physician and also known one of the BEST heart surgeons in the country. I think I would take that for making a positive stride in television portrayals of blacks. No?
I guess my point is why is Grey’s and Private Practice less of a black show than Girlfriends and The Game? They both are the conceptualization and ideas of black women. Shonda Rhimes has said on several occasions that she already has Grey’s mapped out for the next few years. We can’t say well now OG she isn’t the only one writing on the show. All the staff writers aren’t black. Well if you think Mara Brok Akil is only employing all black writers on her show then I got some land I want to talk to you about.
Anyway what I am saying is that what is so wrong with an inclusive view and why isn’t that black TV? I mean I understand it’s nice to see life depicted where you are the majority, but really this world is not like that. People often dismiss shows like Friends, Seinfeld, or Desperate Housewives that have a black character for a short stint or other shows where they view the black character as a token like ER or Dynasty (remember Diahann Carroll’s run on there) when in reality that is more like my life. I mean other than my home life where my life is pretty much black, but not all. I am and have always been the only or one of two or three.
I work in IT and in my department there is me and another black guy. There are a few other blacks working on other projects but on this floor of about 100-120 only 5 black people, the rest are Indian or White. So scenarios that exist in many sitcoms aren’t that far fetched. Hell, I have met several white people who had NO true exposure to blacks until we came to college. So should TV be depicted a world that isn’t even real where we are all mixed in? Black people are only 10% of this nation if that. I think shows like Everybody Hates Chris depict life like I remember it, out to a white world, home to a black one. However if shows are not set in our homes or where we reside we can not expect them to be all black.
I guess this whole blog is more a question and rambling thought than it is commentary and decisive action. I am far more concerned with accurate depictions of black people when we do show up on TV than I am with looking at a bunch of black people shucking and jiving. Although don’t get me wrong I do and have liked my fair amount of shucking and jiving, stepping and fetching and the like. Laughter is good for the soul, well that is until you realize some of souls laughing ain’t that good, ask Dave Chapelle why he left his gig! That’s a blog for another day.
Lately there seems to be a lot a talk about black and what it is and who is black enough and who isn’t and what you need to do be black and what you need to say to stay black and I guess it just has me up in arms.
I just see so many black folks both enlightened and highly educated, ignorant and no account, and all those in between trying to label blackness. As I said in a comment on a blog the other day, as long as we marginalize each other by trying to set these rules on what we need to and don’t need to do to be black the longer non-blacks will think they can label us. We all need to learn to be who we want to be and by doing just that whatever that is we want to do those actions automatically become a part of blackness. Now sure there will be things that by culture a majority of us might like to do, but if you don’t fall in that majority it doesn’t get you race card pulled.
So I guess I wouldn’t say black TV is as crossroad, I would like to say that it is evolving. I would like to see more black creators show us their imagination. I would like to see more black production. I mean lets look at cinema Overbrook (Will and Jada) entertainment is doing all kinds of movies. I consider those movies to be black movies. I am sure most people don’t but many come from the pens of black writers and they are produced with black dollars, no matter what color the cast is. Right?
Is The Pursuit of Happyness a black film? I would say yes, but I’m sure many people don’t think so. I mean it was produced by several black people (along with a few white ones) based on a book by a black man about his black life. Sounds like a Black movie to me Just a thought. What are your thoughts? What is black TV and do we need black TV or are we past that?
I guess my thought is we need blacks to be depicted as believable and real, not caricatures of what we think black life is. I know that’s a hard one to call because one man’s believable and real is another’s caricature. As far as making sure we have all black shows or majority black shows, if BET and TV One would take the original programming route we wouldn’t have to worry about that. I don’t know enough as to why they chose the programming they do and don’t do original shows, so I’m going to just leave that alone.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Anyway… back to this post. I have decided that I need to go back, back, back to journaling. I’m talking about way back, like Dear Diary back. Back before the internet was everywhere back to when I would chose pen to paper over the clickity clack of the computer keys HANDS DOWN to talk about my personal bidness. Back to when I wrote for me and it was as raw and gut wrenching and silly and indulgent as I wanted it to be, because ONLY I WOULD EVER READ THE PAGES, well unless pages were snooped or read with permission.
I have been writing for as long as I can remember and I have been journaling formally since I was about 12-13. Before that I did have a diary but I wasn’t too regular with it. After my aunt busted open the lock and read I liked my cross the street neighbor, JoJo! At seven I decided it was best I kept my secrets and thoughts in my head until I could A) find better hiding places for the written record of my life B) defend the snatching of my written life from my teenage aunties.
In my adolescence I began to journal. I would just write basic random stuff every girl writes. I never had any rules for what I could and could put in my diary. If I felt like drawing I did if I wanted to write about how I totally loved square headed Chad from a far, I did. I was a pretty good kid so my journaling for the most part was the stuff that wet cardboard is made of!
Anyway by the time I arrived back in Baytown from my Jr. High School stint in the H! I was a professional at journaling. I had loved to write almost as much as I loved to talk and I found that knocking ideas around in my head was not as good as looking at my thoughts in black and white. Sometimes I read them back to myself and thought silly, other times I read them and thought goofy, but most of the time I read them and thought me.
My high school years were quite different than most would think. I spent tons of time studying, taking creative writing classes, and having good, clean, Type A, overachiever fun! I was even on the staff of my high school literary magazine. Despite that I really had no desire to share my words more than the small amounts I measured out at a time. I mean I wrote prolifically in high school about everything. Where ever I went my handy journal was in tact. I remember spending painstaking time picking out the cloth covered journal that would be the next volume of my life. I felt each cover said as much about whom I was, as what I wrote inside. Then I grew up!
Well not exactly. Just for the record I am STILL doing that, even at 35. I went to college and my journal became where I went to show the work of my life. I worked through love, friendships, and heartache through my college years. The older I got the more my journal became a place to work out the feelings of inadequacy, fear, and longing we all have as human beings from time to time. Somewhere I realized I was only documenting the bad of my life and all the chops in my neck, so I also started to document the wins to my situations the dates to remember the moments in life that can only be described when you are actually experiencing them.
As I grew older, I still kept a journal, but the entries became few and far between. It seemed I was a life savant now, working the problems of my life in my head, no longer needing to carry the one and work out the solution using paper and pen to help me come to solutions for my life. Plus at the time my life seemed to be humming along pretty well. College Grad, decent job with great career options, good friends, and eventually a fiancé. My journaling was just for recording dates and sweet feelings of love, no problem solving needed there. Then once I got engaged my journaling turned into a to do list, wedding stuff, ideas for home decoration, fabric swatches for wedding dresses and drapes, entries about the house being built and the pre-marital counseling being taken, but still not working any of the problems I had out on paper, just in my head. As many of you know life’s problems are not the kind of problems one should be working out in his/her head. Not if we want to move and grow.
I started blogging in December 2004. My friend who works for MS told me they had a blog space and it was easy to set up and it was fun. I met people but really mostly I wrote. I wrote about whatever. Then my marriage ended not to long after that and I used my blog, all too publicly, to work out what it was like to move back to the single space. I tried to be as honest as I could with out giving too much of my business, but enough for people to see my change and metamorphosis.
I would get comments and e-mails of encouragement with people saying that they were glad I was sharing my highs and lows and they totally related. Thus a blogger was born, I think its funny I never wanted to be a journalist even when it was something that was suggested to me a few times in my Jr/Sr High School life, but I enjoy blogging. Maybe because there are no headlines and I don’t have to pitch what I want to write and all that jazz. As much as I love blogging and as much as it seems to have remained a constant in my life, for almost 4 years now, I do miss what journaling gave me.
Journaling gave me the complete freedom to write and be who I was because the most freeing factor to journaling is NO ONE is reading. You don’t have to watch your words or worry if your tone will offend. You don’t have to hope your cadence makes readers continue to read your LONG ASS blogs, all you have to do is just write. Just work it out and then my favorite part, read. I love to read my old journals they give me perspective on my life. I read about things at the time that I thought were dire, that I wouldn’t survive, that I couldn’t survive and I think wow, nothing is permanent. I think reading this set of journals will be different. I use to cyber-journal sometimes on my computer, however there’s nothing to read when your hard drive crashes or gets a virus or the file is corrupt. Nothing to read and put things back into perspective, the joys of 21st century life!
So now I think now is a good a time as any to pick one of those pretty little lined books up and begin to write about my life in a new city experiencing new things I want to journal about them, because some of them I can’t share with the masses, sorry y’all. I mean I suspect many journal entries will end up being blogs and maybe even vice versa and I expect that many journal entries will end up helping me make some of the harder decisions in my life. I really can’t wait to read what kinda crazy fun I had in Boston in the summer of ’08 even what kind of beauty I see as I experience seasons changing for real for the first time in my country azz Baytown life. Well I will be journal shopping for the next week or so and 6/1 I will begin journaling AGAIN! Thanks for letting me share about my new old secret past time. I promise you will see some things from the journal pop up here…no doubt!
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Ok here is something crazy, I have been working on a blog about adultery, namely adulteresses inspired by a Sister Toldja blog, but it seems every time I start a blog with this contrived outline and rough map out, I never finish said masterpiece. Meanwhile while working and re-working and agonizing over the words of the planned blog I have fifty gazillion arbitrary thoughts that end up not only as thoughts in my head but as posted blogs.
It seems that my blogs are best when they are not thought about or planned too much, much like my life. I mean sure I think about what I am going to write and the direction I want to take it, but unlike my blogs that are contrived for the masses I don’t outline points or look up sources. Meaning I don’t treat is like a term paper I’m writing to impress Dr. Fultz* on my research prowess and knowledge of the black female 20th century writer! It seems I am much better literarily, when I am uncontrived with out too much form or thought given to the subject of discussion.
So with that in mind and a half written blog about the other woman in draft, I bring to you a blog that popped in my head a few days ago when I sent an e-mail to a few of my dammies about Barack, Cory, and Deval.
This weekend I was cleaning my house and the TV was on for white noise (along with the CD and my iPod alarm clock- my mom’s head would have exploded from the cacophony of sitcom, Mariah Carey, and Fantasia that was mixing through out my house). I was putting the last dish up in the kitchen when I heard the local Fox affiliate’s news teaser about a story comparing Deval Patrick, Massachusetts newly elected black governor, to B-ROCK (that’s my new blog nick name for him….do you smell what the B-Rock is cooking? *lol* I loved that on WWE)! Asking was Barack simply paving the way for Deval. Then I flashed back to a conversation I had with someone about Cory Booker and he described him as a Barack type.
Have we as black folks graduated from Jessie, Al and Louis to B-Rock, D-Pat, and C-Book? No seriously, the thing I find most refreshing about this new crop of black politicians is mainstream media has not assigned them to “US” as spokespeople. I mean sure it’s been years since any sane (by sane I mean any one two inches left of Rush and his hard line right wing crew) has thought that Jessie, Al or Louis were our spokes people, but at one time it was believed by many, black and white, they spoke for US.
Perhaps its because of the mixed lineage of these men, that America doesn’t quite know what to do or where to place them. The truth is most black Americans are of mixed lineage. Very few of us have 100% African blood running through our veins. I’m sure if you did a little genealogy you would find just as much racial ambiguity in the plain ol’ Negro as you do in Barack. Actually, if you think about it his mixture would be that of what a first generation slave was an African parent and a European parent (I don’t know about you but I would say Midwest is a white bread as they get, or at least I’ve been led to believe that about the white folks that hail from there). Anyway, I digress...
I am not sure why they haven’t assigned these men as our new black spokesmen. Maybe because there is little tomfoolery, shucking, and jiving amongst them (well some folks here in MA think there may be a little shade going Deval’s way, but I think it might be the new station I’m watching! All news is not fair and balanced) Or maybe the media gets that one black man can no more speak for all blacks, any more than one white woman can for them! I promise Imma stop with side bar jabs at Hill. SHE IS NOT A QUITTER, DAMN IT! I just wish she was less annoying at not quitting.
Whatever the reason, it seems these men are allowed to live and do their thing with out too much lumping; besides talk of them all making a bid to run this land one day. I am glad they are adding something to the country’s view of black man besides pimp, d-boy, athlete, singer, dancer, cooner (yes… I said it!! What else do you call one who part takes in coonery on the regular basis), entertainer, actor to their landscape of what WE can be. I like adding educated leader to the mix. I really would like to add leader of the FREE WORLD to the mix!
Now as for Kwame, well no comment. It just shows we ain’t no different than the rest of folks in life, that there always is a Ted for every John and Bobby. You take the good, you take the bad, mix ‘em both and there you have The Facts of Life (is that even the words? Hell I dunno, I was kid when that came on). No disrespect to Sen. Kennedy, but come on Ted to JFK or RFK COME ON?
So what are your thoughts on how Barack, Deval and Corey and any other young black politicos are changing the game? I really want to talk about the men, because for so long our men have been put in disadvantaged position and I believe this could be a New Day, Nina Simone style, for the young black man, if he really seizes this opportunity and new landscape ahead of him.
Thoughts on that are welcome as well!!
* Dr. Lucy Fultz was my favorite English professor in college; she is also an expert on Toni Morrison. Ironically not the professor who introduced me to Ms Morrison, but definitely the professor who nourished the love I had for her and her GREAT WORKS of literature.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
If I had based my life on the anecdotal evidence from my neighborhood while growing up, I would be working at Wal-Marts making good steady money and coming home to fry it up in a pan and never let De’Shaun Woods* forget he was a man (*Names were changed to protect me from embarrassing stories about school boy crushes I had). Anyway I got into a long back and forth over hair… OVER HAIR of all things! But if you know me you already know I can debate about almost anything, especially if it is my passion. I guess that year on the debate team did do me some good, huh.
Sometimes it angers me that we as black people want to talk about hair and how we wear it making a statement of some kind as to who we think we are. I mean really when it all boils down to it, no matter what your preference is wearing your hair nappy don’t make you no blacker than someone who wears the yaki down her baki! I have met some of the most backwards bourgeoisie, buppie, un militant women sporting locks of love. Looking more to change the channel while the revolution is happening than to televise it and I have meet some fierce fist throwing Angela Davis wanan be’s looking like they could pass for any and everything besides 100% Zulu Masi!
Why are we even letting our ego’s engaged in such foolishness? I mean , really I just spent way to much time trying to tell a sister in so many words don’t speak like an authority on shyt you don’t know. I guess it would have saved me a bunch of time if I had just written that, but you know me….I don’t bang I rock the DOPE rhymes!! And my love affair for words and creating a solid statement to support my views will win out over verbal succinctness E’RRYDAY!!
Reading the comments with women calling relaxer “creamy crack” THAT IS MY FAVORITE! Women talking about Imma wear weave ‘til I die (I think I would be in THAT group!!). It just had me thinking how much time we spend caught up trying to figure out if what we do is truly projecting self hate or love, when in reality we are who we are. If we hate who we are then everything we do will manifest that hatred of who we are, if we love who we are everything we do will be an expression of how much we love who we are. And as human we all will and do express love differently. To me I love looking at myself in a fly azz wig with a great color, but sometimes I love looking at my self with my hair all unbraided soft black with the few strands of gray wisdom I have picked up. I LOVE the THREE GRAY HAIRS I have in the front of my hair. BUT, I do not love the gray hair that sprang from chin the other day!! Not because it means I’m old just because I don’t like hair on MY chin!
I mean I am OG, simply by being and if tomorrow I chose to snatch this wig off my head and sit at work with my hair in a big half fro half curl (for some reason my hair is too fine to stand up straight but to nappy to lay down flat) it is not going to change the essence of WHO I AM one bit. It won’t make me think I am more down for the cause because I will not let my hair lye anymore!
However I do realize there a plenty of people out there who have not stripped down and truly realized that all the thinking they do of who they are IS NOT who they are. They don’t realize that who they are is the person at that very moment, not who they were in the past or who they plan to be in the future. Therefore, they are wrapped up if the kinda of hair they are sporting (nappy, permed, good, bad, or even bald), the car they are or are not driving, or the location they are living is truly representing who they want to believe is the person they are or at the least want others to believe they are, the projected self. When plain in simple the sooner you realize you are you no matter what changes on or around you, the happier you will be.
I mean, sure I spent way too much time citing facts that contradicted the evidence this chick was trying to cite as “gospel” (ok well at least as some kind of stated fact…I doubt she was trying to say it was gospel) in the comments section of a blog that I love to read and talk about with my friends. At the same time what she said to me and what I said to her ain’t gonna bit more change who we are than a man on the moon, even if she went out and purchased 25lbs of Chinese Remy tomorrow and I burned every lace front I had from here to VA. Although I would like to think that in my exchange I did at least get her to realize you can’t make assumptions about things based on the limited world you see.
I have learned through living this little movie called my life that things can and often are far different than you would imagine especially when you talk about things that you have no interest in. For instance I have a shallow interest or passing interest in many things so I always operate with the assumption that my assumptions about and my knowledge of those things are limited and even if I read a book that means nothing for like many things in life there is more than one way to skin a ct. Ya dig?!?! Which is the same way I feel about things I do have vast interest in, there’s always more to learn. I also don’t believe in absolutes from people telling me I can’t do something to people saying someone won’t let me do it to people telling me doing this makes me this or even telling me how what I want to do is crazy. I think that is the mind set that kills us all, especially US as a balck people.
Just imagine if Barack had listened to all those folks who told him he couldn’t, he shouldn’t and/or THEY wouldn’t LET him run for office. I guess we all would still be riding the Clinton bandwagon proclaiming her as the fist black woman president!! LORD I KNOW Shirley Chisholm rolling over in her grave at the mere thought of such! However y’all know I’m right!
I’m not sure why I wrote this blog other to say a post about hair really made me think about life in two aspects. The first, you are who you are and the sooner you get that and stop applying all these labels to yourself to make you unique, you will realize your uniqueness, strengths and power are there simply by breathing in and out . And secondly, DON’T limit your thoughts, dreams or hopes to what you see around you today. That is all have a nice night and carry on!! *wink*
Monday, May 12, 2008
I actually felt OLD for the first time this weekend, I mean I say I feel old a lot but its mostly just tongue in cheek. I mean, I might feel older than my peers or a little dated every now and then, but this weekend I FELT OLD! Here's why
I decided to buy a new laptop this weekend, after thinking about it for several months. While window shopping last week on my coffee date I spied a fabulous CHEAP laptop. I mulled over it and checked the specs with one of the developers I sit by and decided it was good deal. Best Buy gave me an 18 month no interest deal, so I HAD to go ahead and get it. All signs pointed to it being the logical thing to do. Friday after work, I tooled down to the Best Buy that was on my Bus Route home (Nbr 8 Inbound for those who keep count of my mass transit adventures in Da’ Bean!).
My BB experience was not the greatest at the South Bay Mall Best Buy (yes I am calling them out!!). I actually had to flag someone down to give these people my money. Normally, I would walk out and go to another store, but I knew that there were limited quantities of this laptop available and this Best Buy was one of the few that had any left. I am assuming they had some left because you have to FLAG an associate down to give them money for their merchandise!
Anyway, after asking someone to get someone and another someone passing me by saying they’d be right with me. A young black girl came over to help me. It took her a minute, but she finally was able to locate the model I showed her on my print out from the website. As she was ringing me up, she asked for my ID, as I was making a credit purchase, looks at my birth date and goes “Hey, that’s the same year my mom was born!”
I don’t think I have EVER felt any older than I did at that moment. I mean to think that if my life had gone different, a zig instead of zag, a left instead of a right, a yes instead of a no, I could have birthed a human being who not was only old enough to work at Best Buy and sell computers, but old enough to just have purchased her first new car, and old enough to tell me if she had my credit limit she would be buying a Mac. I could be old enough to be the mother of a 19 year old. I don't feel old enough to be a mother of a fully functioning semi-adult! I mean, sure it is totally logical and feasible, BUT I don’t even think I am old enough at 35 to be the mother of an embryo.
HELLO REVELATION!! It just for the first time, my age was put into true perspective to me, I mean sure her mom was a YOUNG mother (To be honest, my first thought was oh so if I got knocked up at 15 I could have a 19 year old kid working at Best Buy), but at the same time, there use to be a time when it was not physically/mathematically possible for me to be someone that old’s mother. Like say when I was 28, when I was 28, I never ran into 19 year olds going wow you were born the same year as my mother! *lol*
Well, I got my new laptop, which I really really really like! I still need to move and upgrade some software, but for now its fine. I LOVE GOOGLE DOCS! I may never put Office on the new machine. So far everything has been really nice. It’s really nice not to have to wait for things to load, reboot(both hard and soft) constantly, or pray the hard drive doesn’t crash.
My weekend was pretty interesting, maybe I’ll share later, maybe I won’t. I have learned from the wise I should sometimes leave a little MYSTERY to my Weekend at Moni's blogs! *lol*
Happy BELATED Mother’s Day to all you moms out there (and dads who are holding down for the two of you)! And have a great week!
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
So today I am happy. It’s looking like the option of a Mocha White House is becoming more and more undeniable for the Clinton Camp and Obama is making it happen his way. You know I love him, but today I would like to just talk about a few things that make me happy, in No Particular Order! Just like Barack (and O’Shea) I don’t BANG, I rock the good rhymes!! I’m about uniting not dividing!
The air quality in Boston! I mean I know its no fresh Wisconsin or Montana breeze but the ability to deeply inhale here and not worry about what carcinogen is leaching on to your soul is very nice. I must say there were NOT a lot of deep breathes growing up in Baytown, TX home of Exxon one of the world’s largest oil refineries.
God!!!! He is transformational!
Springtime! Again I never knew it lasted so long til I got here. It is May and we still have yet to have a week of 70 degree days strung together. That is both a blessing and a curse, but today since it’s a nice, breezy, beautiful, springtime 70 it will be a joy!
Mass Transit! Every now and again not having my ride to jump into is inconvenient, but thanks to zipcar, not often. I like not having to drive and I like being able to read on longer trips. My uber-green friends enjoy the fact I am reducing my carbon footprint.
Zipcar! I love it for those times having a car is necessary.
My mom! This weekend is Mother’s Day and I won’t be home. It’s not the first time, but it is the first time I have lived somewhere besides the H. My mom really misses me, it is so cute. I love her and the older I get the more I appreciate her and who she is. I have a few friends who have lost their mothers. And while I only have one living parent, I don’t know what I would do if my mother was not that parent. I supposed I would get through; however I chose to enjoy her until I can’t.
Starbucks! I love it. Give me a White Chocolate Mocha everyday all day. Actually I only have one like once a week. Iced or hot this will add to your waistline as an everyday treat!
Hair!!!! I absolutely LOVE hair. It is transformational!
Clothes! Fashion is the most addictive thing in my life. Sure I have other bad habits, but as far as recovery and 12 step processes go, shopping is the one I struggled a long time to get a hold of! I WAS a Single Black Female addicted to Retail! Now its one shopping bag a time, Sweet Jesus! Simply talking about buying pretty things makes me happy!
Men! I especially love men between 29 and 37. 28-30 seems to be my sweet spot as far as men that like me and I actually like back, but I love them all. I super-duper-extra-extra love black men the taller the better!!! But the other flavors ain’t so bad, especially those Clooney, Pitt, and Kutcher flavors.
LeBron, KG, Ray Allen, ‘Zo Mourning, TI, and AI! I know I had a shout out to men above but these smile makers deserve to be Named and appreciated as special. Well in my world! And it's basketball season and its always TI season (the shortest man to ever get me worked up! what he say soul of a 6'4" killa <--radio edit here... we buried that word *lol*)
Men with a hustler’s spirit! Not to be confused with men with a hustler’s record or still hustling. I like my men with an edge. You know and I often find myself being the most at home with a d-boy once twice or three times removed from the game. I love men who know how to keep in real in the board room and the hood only having to Change Clothes and maybe into a more formal dialect to fit in to either world.
Sidebar: I hate men who HATE! Actually I hate all HATERS!! That’s
right, I hate on haters. Why you gotta dis to make your self seem better,
real men don’t do that!
I was reading a blog like that the other day it was such a turn off. All this yapping about he sucks because he does this and that but woe is you you can’t get a break and blah, blah, blah is wickity wack. Nothing turns my love to hate is the inability to give
people props, even when what they doing ain’t you’re steelo, and dealing with
the cards that you were given.
I mean do you see me going off about how Halle Berry got it all, beauty, fly azz shape, beautiful skin, great hair, nice teeth, or if I was light skinned like Beyonce I’d be a
Grammy winner. Man, if you spent as much time working on being the best you YOU can be as you did on being the best them (not trying to be better than the Joneses) you could be. Maybe you would be farther along in the game.
HMMMM not sure where that came from, but hey I’m like Prego it’s in there! Life was made for us to ENJOY not ANNOY just remember that!
Ok I’m done I could go on for days, but well I have real work to do. I just thought I’d share a few things that made me happy!! Positivity, that’s how you keep it moving in my world.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
I had to drop in today to just share with you my beautiful weekend adventures here in Boston on the vanglorious (what ever happened to them? I loved them) and wonderful T. For those of you who haven’t been paying attention, the T is the mass transit system of the Greater Boston Metro area! It wasn’t a really great weekend in Boston, as it was in much of the rest of the country east of the Mississippi, it was raining.
Oh yeah before I forget let me warn you right now this will be a stream of conscious blog with no rhyme or reason or neat tie ins at the end (well unless I stumble into one). I will attempt to section this off by day so you can follow my most random thoughts in the most organized way one can follow a completely random blog about bopping around the city, but hey no promises.
I spent my Friday night at home with a bottle of wine and Pad Thai from my favorite Thai restaurant down the street. I had to work pretty late because I needed to make up my hours from missing Monday. That is the one thing about being contract if you don’t work, you don’t eat, so to speak. No vacation hours or PTO to fall back on, but its cool it all evens out in the wash. I went to bed at a pretty decent hour, because I knew I had a full Saturday of cleaning and errands ahead of me. So like the OLD lady I am (not to be confused with the 20-something I’ve been told I look like.) I took my tired, old, semi-drunk (WHAT? I told you I had a bottle of wine with my dinner) azz to bed!
I awoke early Saturday morning earlier than I wanted to, but not much earlier than I normally do. I had agreed to help a nice older man learn how to use eBay. I met this man one night catching my regular bus. I was walking to catch my bus when he offered to drop me off because no one was on his shuttle bus. I said yes, and sat at the front of the bus and exchanged conversation with this 68 year old man about his life and what not. At the end he asked me my dating status and I repLIED, as I always do in situations like this, that I was not only seeing someone here in Boston but back in the H too.
Anyway, he was polite about and he dropped me off just a few blocks from my house. Well, last week I ran into him again and once again he offered a ride. We chatted and talked (mostly because I plan on trying to hook him up with my mom when she comes to visit) and he knows I work with computers, so he asked me could I help him with his eBay business he had purchased. He even offered payment, something I had planned on refusing once the task was complete, well unless I felt he was insulted by it. I agreed and we made an appointment to meet on Saturday at the library near Dudley station. We exchange cell numbers and he called me the next day and asked if we could meet bright and early at 8:45am on Saturday, because he wanted to try to make it to church, as well. I said sure 8:45 was fine, I mean I figured I could always just come home and take a nap.
So Saturday morning I rolled out of the bed (an hour later than my normal weekday wake-up time and an hour earlier than I normally do on weekends), got dressed and ran down to catch the Silver Line to Dudley Station.
Boston’s Silver Line is an interesting thing, because it is a bus that runs like a train. I’ve been told it was created to replace the above ground tracks the orange line ran on. The city got rid of them. The Silver Line was put in place to make sure that those who use to use the now re-routed orange line, black folks, could still have easy access to downtown. I got that from a local and a non-local, so I will go ahead and take it as urban truth, not to be confused with urban legend. The Silver Line got me to Dudley in no time and upon getting off the bus I walked around and found the library right across the street from Dudley.
I guess this is where I mentioned that my friendly bus driver had not returned any of my calls. I figured since I was at the library, I might as well get a library card. So the librarian told me I needed proof of residence to get a full fledge card with check out privileges, but she could give me a courtesy card that would allow me to use the internet. I agreed, figuring I could bring my lease to upgrade my card later; after all I live down the street from a library. Then I asked her the location of the post office that was on my Sorry We Missed You! We ReDeliver for You notice I got from the USPS. She told me it was fairly close, so I used my new library card to find the best bus to take from the library. Let me tell you http://www.mbta.com/ is my LIFELINE and they even have a mobile version that I am always using when I am trying to catch the next bus after shopping too long in Target.
MBTA gave me two routes the 45 and 66, in true busBAP fashion I ran and jumped on a 45 that had just pulled in to Dudley with out reading the front of the bus. I needed to be on the inbound bus to Ruggles Station but quickly realized I was on the outbound bus down Blue Hill Ave. You see, busBAPs often jump on buses with out reading if the bus is the inbound or outbound bus. Luckily busBAPs have a monthly link card so rectifying said mistakes is only time consuming and not money wasting. It was cool though, I didn’t have anywhere to be, so I rode the bus until I saw a store I wanted to check out.
I got off at the next stop, walked back down a few blocks and went into the beauty supply and bought up all kinds of fun busBAP things, (hair, earrings, makeup, hair products, a cool lighter and more hair). After playing in the wigs for a hot minute I walked out and got on the bus going the right way. I rode ‘til the end of the line and still no USPS. I spent a good hour and half trying to find that damn thing and finally I gave up. That is the thing about Boston much like Houston; sometimes the streets do crazy things. I caught my old faithful 43 Park Station home. The 43 is one of the buses I catch regularly to go downtown and home from the Redline, when I ride the subway home from work if I have just missed my regular bus, the 43 gets me a stones throw from my house. Normally take the 8 to work. I like riding buses more than the train because I like to people watch outside of the vehicle of transport.
Once I got home I did what I like to call a Saturday morning Rachel (my grandmother) clean. When I was a little girl my grandmother had a Saturday cleaning routine instilled in my aunts. They use to get up early on Saturdays and clean the whole house. I mean clean, clean. They usta mop, vacuum, dust, fully clean all bathrooms, start laundry, and even windows! Ok… I’m kidding about the windows, no one does windows. Anyway my aunts use to rush and work in a beautiful symphony of team work like a Disney movie to get the house spic and span in time to sit down and watch Soul Train!! Those were the days.
Anyway, after not being in Boston last weekend I had a ton of laundry to do from my Houston visit and a two week’s worth of cleaning. I finished all my cleaning made a few calls home and then left out to run a few walking errands around the hood and on the T to try to find that stupid Post Office again, still no dice. Finally I gave up and went to Blockbuster and traded in my Blockbuster online movies for three in house movies and headed to the house.
I stopped by Subway to grab a sandwich for lunch and dinner ($5 foot longs baby!) where a wonderfully flamboyant MAC faced, slightly chubby Pueto Rican gay man asked me did I know who Tocarra was on ANTM. I replied yes and he told me I reminded him of her!! Woo Hoo! Look, after years of people telling me I look like Latifah I was happy to have a new Glamazon comparison. After all, Queen is pretty, but Tocarra is SEXY. And to be honest, I’ll take sexy all day every day. Sexy doesn’t age; just ask Raquel Welch, Kim Catrell, and Robin Givens. Just for the record, I don’t think I look like Tocarra or Latifah, but it’s the curse of having so few Glamazons in the industry there are only a few women people can compare you to.
I left out of Subway brushing the dirt of my shoulders after that compliment. Ironically I was listening to Jay on my iPod. When I looked up the 1 was stopping right in front of me, so I jumped on and caught a ride down a few blocks. BOY DO I LOVE MY BUS PASS!! Upon my return home I received a text inviting me to a card party; I got all the info had some 6inches of my foot long BMT and collapsed on my couch watching one of the DVDs I had rented or should I say it was watching me.
I rose from my slumber groggily and finally moved my ass to make it to Jamaica Plains (JP if you’re nasty!) for a card party with a bunch of people who were not only younger than me, I would venture to say extremely smarter than me (ok smart in a different way smart!). I took the Orange Line to Forrest Hills and then caught the 39 which let me off RIGHT down the street from the house. I was greeted by my host, a young Rice alum who is finishing up his degree at Harvard Medical, along with three other medical students and a Policy Admin graduate student who was finishing up his studies and would be returning to the real world of work, you know as opposed to the REAL WORLD of class, to work in New Jersey for Corey Booker. Sometimes I think it is so funny how the shift to adulthood happens. In a matter of months we go from paying for knowledge (college & universities), or promising to pay –if you have loans, to getting paid for using that knowledge (work) anyway...moving on
It was a fun and interesting night like the total opposite of my Saturday nights in Houston, as of late. I won’t comment anymore on that, but those of you who know me FA’ REAL know that a quiet Saturday night playing Bid Whist is not a H-town Mo thang! (Well, at least lately it hasn’t been. You know I go through my party girl/ homebody stages).
Sunday was a great lazy day. I had finished cleaning my apartment. I had a nice quiet but fun Saturday night and I had some movies to watch and a coffee date in the late afternoon. I slept in until about ten, then I lay in the bed another hour just listening to the sounds outside letting the sun hit my face. You know that kinda half sleep thing that normally happens the five minutes between you pushing snooze and the alarm blaring “GET YO AZZ UP” again. I rolled out of bed folded the last load of laundry made breakfast (the other 6inches of my Subway BMT) and did basic grooming for a lazy Sunday, made my normal Sunday morning calls. I watched a movie and then got ready for my coffee date. The date was pretty cool, he was a local and the first local man here that I haven’t thought was crazy. Seemed sane, but it really doesn’t matter. I think the fact I have no pressure to actually ever find a man makes my attitude a bit different on dates than most men are use to. It’s like when the job I have now came along. I was perfectly happy where I was and there was no pressure in the interview because if I didn’t get the job, I like the one I had fine and I knew my life would go on. I also had the expectation that in order to make me leave my present job the new job opportunity would have to knock me off my feet.
Well that is the way I feel about men. I have a solid friendship back home and while I’m dating here, it would pretty much take a man KNOCKING me off my feet for me to become his girlfriend (to be fair that includes the man back home, but that’s a blog for another day. A day I feel like letting you guys in my business like that.) Anyway we ended up walking my neighborhood because the tiny itsy bitsy Starbuck’s in my neighborhood was full. It was nice to walk and talk and shop (I think I may have found a new laptop, y’all!!). We ended our date and I grabbed some takeout, I really need to grocery shop and came home to watch some TV and get my mind right for the work week.
All and all I would say I had a great weekend and just for the record Bus Chick, this weekend I took 6 buses and one train (orange line) or is it 5 buses and two trains, as the Silver Line is a bus that is treated like a train. Well no matter what you choose I took NO CARS, making my way through Da’ Bean in true mass transit, carbon footprint reducing, glamorous, Bus BAP fashion.
Friday, May 2, 2008
Last night, when I got off the T to go to an event called First Thursdays ( I guess the First Friday guys have those on lock, even in cities with no real “urban” populations) all I saw was black and brown people! NIRVANA, I felt like I had stepped on the set of Boomerang*
The chick who was throwing the First Thursday event had just moved from a 10 year stay in the H! She had come home to take care of her mother. She and her friend started throwing parties, probably because she missed how we do it down south. I mean some things were a little corny like her trying to teach a routine right in the middle of the 45 minute sweat (you know the line dance set every club DJ plays to play every line dance song made on earth. These people had never heard of the bunny hop. I really wonder what they would do if I broke out into all them Louisiana bounce dances like the Jubilee…hell I wonder if they know how to really Get Bodied - I digress).
Note to any party promoters who happen to land on my page: Any dance that doesn’t involve four corners and can’t be learned by 75% of the club crowd in 10 minutes while watching others do it, IS NOT A CLUB LINE DANCE. It is a dance routine. And if you succeed to teach it to said crowd, it does not look cool it looks like a bootleg music video. And if only you and your homegirl know the steps it is a 1990’s homegirl routine. Y’all remember how we usta to do it back in the day, House Party Style (ala AJ Moore and Tisha Campbell or Kid and Play if you’re a guy).
Anyway, all in all it was a nice time and I got to meet some like minded folks you know, bughetto like me! That’s the thing I don’t like BUPPIES who have forgotten how to keep it a little real (now not too real, cause I don’t need it going wrong like Jeremiah). You know I love being amongst my people even the ones who might be a little grimier than your average bear (or hoodrat in this case)! One day I will blog about me and my complexities of straddling the hood and board room and my belief that one should never forget his/her roots and how I don’t understand how you can divorce yourself from your hood instead of trying to enrich it. If more of us did that then there would be less of the “element” that we are trying to run from in our hoods. Ok I’m done *jumping off my soapbox and placing it back under my desk*
Then I took the bus home, because you get to see more of the city on a bus than you do dwelling underground on a subterranean train. I LOVE THAT BUSES RUN WAY INTO THE NIGHT HERE!! My bus took me down thru Mattapan which was lined with beauty supplies, recording studios (a new thang in the hood), KFC’s, Mickey D’s, and, and of course liquor stores....AHHHH YES HOME! Then we made a few turns and we were traveling right down Malcolm X Blvd. That’s what I’m talking about! I wanted to throw my black gloved fist in the air and wave it like I just didn’t care. I didn’t because I didn’t want to be checked into any mental facilities. My bus driver was NOT having it.
However on my bus ride, I did experience the down side of the black bus. It was trashed, just litter everywhere and one dude spit on the bus floor before getting off at his stop, I was taken aback. Who spits on the friggin’ bus? (like that it’s my evolution from cussing from fuck to phuck to frig. I am so proud of me!!) I know my face was horrified and all screwed up at the site and realization that he was truly indeed spitting on the bus floor! My inner Scarlet O’hara, Ms Daisy, Emily Post, Martha Stewart, Rachel & LaVern (my grandmothers), Cora Belle & Fannie (my great grandmothers) and all the other LADIES with manners who roll around in my head barking orders of decorum, (especially the southern ones) screamed in HORROR and DISGUST in unison in the STRONGEST SOUTHERN GIRL ACCENT “HOW PHUCKING RUDE”)!! Yes, I did just drop the F bomb, well the hood chick in my head named LaCronisha Watkins dropped the F bomb. She is now being chastised by one of them full of manners bytches in my head (not my grandmothers they are in NO WAY, shape, or form ever to be even thought of in that way not even jokingly, but them other ho’s who cares what they grandkids think of me calling ‘em bytches!)! I mean for real, who spits on a bus? How uncouth and common and savage can you get!?!?
My white co-worker was all “That’s what you get for riding the bus in Mattapan.” I almost thanked him for the admonishment with a “Gee thanks, that’s mighty white of you,” but I couldn’t get mad at him, because that is what I get for riding on the bus in Mattapan. That’s the thing about being black… I mean, why must it be this manic depressive ride of highs and lows? I went from YEAH I FOUND THE BLACK PEOPLE to damn I found the black people in a matter of seconds (ok it was hours but seconds sounds much much more dramatical, I got that word from Flavor Flav himself, and yes I spelled it correctly). WHY? WHY? WHY?
Anywho… I guess my LOOK** must have been louder than I thought because when I looked around my hand was placed on my chest in utter southern bell DISGUST and the guy at the front of the bus laughed. I am sure my non-verbal reaction was so strong he heard it! Anyway, I just had to share my joy and pain (sunshine and rain!!) of finding some plain ol' regular black and brown folks in Da’ Bean!! Some that seemed happy and I could actually relate to and others I wish a had a switch*** to take to their backside! They weren't as cool as my peeps in the H, but hey it’s a start,
* Ok I know you remember the fist time you saw Boomerang and realized EVERYONE in the movie was black and how it was like the reverse of the world. Well I do, I had no idea that this would actually happen and the world would come overwhelmingly brown but the power would somehow mysteriously shift (or stay put however you want to look at it) with the minorities, white folks.
** I know that you realize some looks actually speak. Example: You are in the store with your mother AFTER she has given you the DON”T ASK ME FOR ANYTHING WHEN WE GET IN THIS STORE speech. And you, after foolishly catching yourself on fire playing with some lighters she told you not to touch in the first place, look up to ASK your mother to douse you with water, when she looks back at you and you hear the look say Girl, you bet’ not embarrass me up in here asking me to buy a bottle of water to douse the flame that is consuming you and your highly flammable jherri curl! What did I say in the car, before we came in here?!?!?! And thus you get your Michael Jackson Pepsi commercial on, because the look has spoken.
*** A switch is a small stick or twig used to WHOOP YO’ AZZ for not having manners! Do they have those everywhere? Not sure how universally Black the switch is, maybe some non-southerner can tell me.