Thursday, December 27, 2007

Stolen from Blah... *revised*

Who's blog I just recently got turned on to and is, of course, now promptly deleting it, lol

(oh um... I changed some shit.)

1) Was 2007 a good year for you?
um... that depends soley on your definition of good. It was difficult. To say the least. But I've gotten through it, and I feel like I'm alot more settled in my skin because of it. Objectively speaking it was pretty good. When I was "mildly" intoxicated new year's eve I mighta said differently though, lol. Poor Almost Fiance

2) What was your favorite moment of the year?
My word. I have no idea. Vegas with my sister for my birthday, New Orleans, this night. Howard Homecoming. an 18 hour phone conversation. adopting Honey.

3) What was your least favorite moment of the year?
Oh god. SO MANY. LOL read everything from June to August or so. There ya go. I'd probably have to say this which was swiftly followed by this

4) Where were you when 2007 began?
drinking on the other side of town with Ghana Girl and her friends

5) Who were you with?
see above

6) Where will you be when 2007 ends?
in San Antonio

7) Who will you be with when 2007 ends?
Almost Fiance

8) Did you keep your new years resolution of 2007?
I don't think I made any... did I? I try not to because I think it's a set up. Actually no, that's a lie. I made one. And I kept it.

9) Do you have a new years resolution for 2008?
to travel more (and that is already being worked on even as we speak{type})
to move (see above)

10) Did you fall in love in 2007?
HA. Yeah. And promptly fell out. And quietly started contemplating if I'm falling in again...

11) If yes, with who?
Psuedo, Bob

12) If yes, do they know?

13) Are you still in love with them?
Psuedo notsomuch

14) You regret it?
regret is pretty strong. I know better now

15) Did you breakup with anyone in 2007?
Officially, just Psuedo. But there were a few alternates up in there that had to take that L too

16) Did you make any new friends in 2008?
wow a few. couple bloggers, some work folks at The Company, Mariella and Ella

17) Who are your (most memorable) favorite new friends?
Mari and El. Certainly wish they hadn't moved

18) What was your favorite month of 2007?
end of Oct, beg. of Nov :-), April was pretty fantastic

19) Did you travel outside of the US in 2007?
NO! But by summer of 08 that needs to change. Remember when I said I hadn't (and wanted to) have sex somewhere outside the country? Hello?!?!? Where's the assistance? lol

20) How many different states have you traveled in 2007?

21) Did you lose anybody close to you in 2007?
to death? no. otherwise? *sigh*

22) Did you miss anybody in the past year?
Missing people is an emotion I am getting all too familiar with lately

23) What was your favorite movie that you saw in 2007?
Transformers. Hands down. Hence, why I saw it 5 times. (yeah nigga I said hence) And now after seeing it this weekend, The Great Debators. Absolute perfection (and not just because of the shout out to Howard being one of the top 2 historically black institutions)

24) What was your favorite song from 2007?
"Bottle Poppin'" Young Joc
"Come See Me" Jill Scott
"Get me Bodied" Beyonce
"Back to Black" Amy Winehouse
"Rehab" Rihanna
"Stronger" Kanye West
"Every Thought is You" Kelly Rowland

25) What was your favorite album from 2007?
Back to Basics Christina Aguilera

26) How many concerts did you see in 2007?
Only 1. WTF?!?! But it was Stevie Wonder so it was worth it

27) Did you have a favorite concert in 2007?
He wins by default but he woulda won anyway had I been to 100 concerts

28) Did you drink a lot of alcohol in 2007?
Oh GOD yes. It is the only things that got me through. My flask was quite possibly one of the top three presents I got this year. I think I wanna invest in a fancypants silver one with my name engraved on it. Does Tiffany's make flasks by any chance? Stace I know you know, lol

29) Did you do a lot of drugs in 2007?
none actually. I'm kinda a punk that way.

What?!?! Weed don't count! "It's a plant. It just grows that way. And if you should just so happen to set it on fire, there ARE some effects..."

30) How many people did you sleep with in 2007?
not enough, more than plenty, less than you, greater than or equal to the weight of air. no way in hell you're getting a straight answer to that question

31) Did you do anything you are ashamed of this year?

32) What was the biggest lie you told in 2007?
"No. I wasn't faking it."

Aww, that's tragic. lol

34) Did you treat somebody badly in 2007?
*sigh* yes

35) Did somebody treat you badly in 2007?
just Pseudo

36) How much money did you spend in 2007?
way too much to have planned on saving alot, lol. in my defense, most of it was circumstancial and not me going on shopping sprees and shit

37) What was your proudest moment of 2007?

38) What was your most embarrassing moment of 2007?
Falling, a couple more I didn't have the nerve to blog about

39) If you could go back in time to any moment of 2007 what would it be?
none of them. I'm so over '07 I dunno what to do with myself.
Wait... I can think of one :-)

40) What are your plans for 2008?
travel, move, travel, get outta debt, get started on some of my career plans, and... travel.

Monday, December 24, 2007


aka Jam wants me to shake. the. SHIT. outta her.

1. There's only one Christmas movie I can stand and that's How the Grinch Stole Christmas, the original, not the Jim Carey version. Actually, the Carey version ain't so bad but I prefer the original.

2. I've only had a real Christmas tree once. I loved the smell so much that I made my mom keep it up til I graduated from high school in May. I was the only person with a graduation tree. I have no idea how it stayed alive and pine smelling so long. Call it a Christmas miracle.

3. Come Christmas of '08 I BETTER be on somebody's island somewhere.

4. The only people who get Christmas presents from me are usually Joy and whoever my significant other is at the time. For 2 reasons: #1 because these gifts are usually so extra and elaborate that I don't feel like putting effort into anything else and #2 because history has taught me that they are the only 2 people who appreciate it

5. The best gift I've ever gotten was from Gay Husband sophmore year. He got me D&G Light Blue (my scent obsession at the time), a Christmas edition Winnie the Pooh (wearing a light blue sweater- sensing a theme?), and the best part... a first edition copy of The Velveteen Rabbit (my fav childhood book that my little brother destroyed)(who's cover artwork was also light blue.)

6. I spent one Christmas Eve visiting my mother in the psych ward of a local hospital.

7. The only part of Christmas I look forward to is the food. Did I mention I like to eat? And I come from a long line of goddamn-I-can-cook-my-ass-off women. God bless us, every one.

8. I think I won't like Christmas until I have kids. And I don't wanna have kids. So...

9. The worst thing to have to do is work in retail during Christmas. I did it for 7 years. No mas.

10. I think little kids taking pictures with Santa is the cutest thing on earth.

11. However, I HATE when people dress their animals up in costume. Why is your dog dressed as Santa? He's a DOG. Dog don't need people clothes. They come with their own outfit. Its called FUR.

12. The Christmas lights? Notsomuch. I can't stand the tacky multicolored, cross religious celebration in excessive lights. Nor can I tolerate when you try to get all trendy with the monochromatic lights. *vomit*

I'm not tagging anyone. You gotta be fuckin' kidding me.

Friday, December 21, 2007

Home for the Holidays

Be back next week.

~ Mgmnt.

(Pray I don't wind up on the news, yes?)

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

"You Know How I Know You're Gay?" and Other Hilarious Randomness

Couple things...

1. Um... Jamie Lynn Spears is pregnant?!??! I'm not even surprised. What I AM shocked about though, is why VH-1 doesn't have a Spears family reality show in the works. Fuck I Love New York. THAT shit would be a HIT.

2. If I don't see Beyonce anywhere doing anything else for the next 3 years it will do my heart good. I love me some BB, but damn. Stay home every once in awhile. Then again if I barely had a marketable personality and had spent the last 10 years in the business doing my best pinochio impression, I guess I'd need to make sure my ability to brand myself was through the roof too. But seriously? A cell phone? Perfume? Hair products you KNOW can't be used on lacefronts? Two lines of foolish clothes designed by your country colorblind mama, anchored solely by a line of dresses that is bangin'? A DVD touting your Ailey knockoffs and Janet swagger jacking in a "freakum dress "as an "experience"? ( I swear if they add that phrase to the dictionary I am literally taking off for Canada.) A COUNTRY ALBUM?!?! Sit B. Sit. Good girl.

3. My daddy is cooking for me as soon as I hit the Georgia state line. I can almost feel how full and sleepy I'm gonna be. I'm not even gonna bother telling him I don't eat red meat, cuz he never listens. It's gonna be so fantastic though, lol.

4. You know how I know you're gay? Because I'M looking at her ass and you are not only not looking, but it never even occurred to you to glance up as her gravity defying backside damn near overturned our table when she walked by. And because you can't stop waxing poetic about a Destiny's Child reunion or how fabulous Naomi is in her new Vuitton campaign.

5. Shh. The game is on. Why do I have to tell you this? You're a BOY.

6. I've been having this pain in my wrists... maybe from all the texting? Meh. *picking up my phone*

7. There is no excuse for me to be trying to figure out how to spike my morning tea. None. Whatsoever.

But if there WERE, it would be that I am still kinda congested, lol

8. I need these to live. Oh, and these. Like, if I don't own them soon, my life will cease to make sense.

9. I need another tattoo like I need a hole in my head... which I also want. Cuz I kinda want my nose pierced? And another thing... well, two other things...

10. About that Christmas party... what it must be like to get drunk on the dance floor, completely embarass yourself, and have no one to answer to on Monday morning. Oh, to not be a minority.

Monday, December 17, 2007

Merry Christmas

You wanted to be my friend.

I think we both know you wanted to have your carnal way with me too, but I know you'll never admit that.

Friendship is such a foreign thing to someone who generally "distrusts everything that breathes."
But you... dammit.

I've been writing as long as I remember. (Remember why?) And yet, I can't capture you. I can't figure out words that depict the right shades of red, the depths of our purples, the brightness of our yellows. And that's not me.

Speechless, I guess.

Remember months ago when I told you I felt "full"? I still do. Maybe even more so. But it's different. There's a weight, a gravity to it, that makes me feel centered. That makes me feel tethered to the Universe.
To you.

I can't sleep on your side of the bed. Which is funny considering we've never slept in my bed. But I think maybe I hope that one day I'll roll over and you'll be there so I can put my cold feet on you to warm up.
You're here of course, even when you're not.

You're in the cards and handwritten notes I keep by my bed, that I usually read every night before falling asleep. You're in the pictures in my camera, and the Lemonheads I still can't bring myself to eat. You're in the silver CD in my car, and #15 on repeat, that one line we love always making me tear up. You're in my ear when I don't put on my makeup in the morning. You are 73 of the 100 text messages in my phone, 11 emails in my inbox that's just barely full. You're around. Always. I make sure of that.

Our conversations stay on repeat in my head. I hear your laugh internally in my most chaotic moments, and I feel still.
And that's what I prayed for.

You know I'm gonna forever maintain that you seduced me of course. But that's neither here nor there.

Even when you think you're broken, I think you're beautiful. And I say that, not as a person who has shared your lips, but as someone who has listened to your pain. It kills me, you know, because I wanna fix it. Because if I could, I'd make sure you never knew another ounce of pain in your life. I can't control that of course. So... I'm just here. Always.

Because I am your friend. Because I love you. Because even though you seduced me (hahaha), I know you'd never take advantage of me. Because I know your heart. Because I recognize so much of myself in your soul.

It's profound really, the kind of foundation friendship can lay, if you let it. If someone would have told me so many moons ago that this is where we'd be...

Somehow you've slipped through the cracks. You know I can't even contemplate future travel plans now without you in mind? It's absurd really. A friend sent me a link to a vacation package for Greece in the spring. I immediately imagined holding your hand through the streets, watching your skin darken under the sun. (Did I send it to you?)
There's a picture attatched to one of the links. Its a cliff, completely vertical, dangling over blue waves. An edge. Close to oblivion. Or the promise of everything perfect. Whichever your heart believes. I wanted to go, and stand there, see which way the wind moved me. I've got a pretty good idea.

It's cold now, and I know you have on 19 layers and long socks pulled up to your knees. You're in bed, more than likely, snuggled underneath the down comforter. Maybe you're working. Maybe you're reading. Maybe you're laying on your side of the bed trying to figure out if what you're writing is eloquent enough.

My hands feel strange when not occupied by your skin. The silence has an awful discord to it when not infused with the melodies of your voice. I'm texting you as I'm writing of you, and I can hear the things you'd say in my head.

Sometimes when I can't quite seem to put a name to what I'm feeling, I turn quiet. I sit perfectly still. I call you to the forefront of my mind, where you never seem to quite stray from, and I listen. And I'm well. Better. FanTAStic.

I'm invested in your happiness because you deserve it. Because you were my friend before there was ever talk of Spain, back when it was a you and a me, no plural pronouns, my desire for your happiness was exponential. Still is. Maybe moreso?

This is the closest I've come to a love letter. I'm not at war or anything (SO ridiculous) and it's not coming in the mail but it's genuine. It's sincere. It's from the heart. It's one of very few things I know for sure.

You are red on black and white. You are stillness in chaos. You are life amidst destruction. You are song within disharmony. You are Coltrane, Etta. Overjoyed. You are fire in the rain. You are home in foreign territory.

And that's just perfect (for me).

Feel free to return to your regularly scheduled sweet potato fries and insulting of Middle Eastern jewelers.


Friday, December 14, 2007

Things I Am Thankful for at 3:36am When I'm Too Sick to Sleep

1. Sending Joy epic text messages and her never complaining about my lengthy venting sessions.

2. Pads in my most vertical heels to cushion the balls of my feet.

3. Being charming.

4. Jack in the Box.

5. My sidekick, aka the thing essential to all my most basic life functions.

6. Cheese fries.

7. Knowing that on the rare occassions you do decide to pick up the phone, caller ID has already let you know that the voice on the other end is the only one you really wanna hear.

8. Clarity.

9. The way dark denim jeans make my hips and ass look.

10. Airplane tickets.

11. Really good, sweat your wrap out, intense, way-too-loud-considering-you-have-neighbors-but-I-couldn't-possibly-shut-up-or-care-less sex.

12. Text messages from moons ago crushes letting me know they're thinking of me. I haven't thought of you in eons kind sir, but you're good for my ego.

13. Bossip and Perez Hilton. Like me, Perez doesn't sleep and the daily dose of bitchy Queen is essential to my happiness.

14. Having the self control to not run around my neighborhood screeching at the top of my lungs and yanking down the gaudy ass Christmas decorations that occupy damn near every house for blocks. No mas.

15. The billions of discounts I get on stuff through The Company that I will never be able to use all of... but dammit if I'm not gonna try.

16. Unexpected starbucks giftcards. Woo! I'll see you in a few hours Steve! (my fav barista... baristo? Baristperson?)

17. and bka where the vast majority of the Christmas presents I did buy came from.

18. Bloggers!

19. Realizing that among the legions of books that I own that I've missed reading a couple, therefore giving myself something to do this weekend other than figuring out what the hell I'm gonna wear to The Company's Christmas party.

20. Someone to stay up with you when you're too sick to sleep :-)

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

The Airport

I've always loved airports. When I was younger, I lived not too far away from one. At night I would lay in bed, my mind whirling with thoughts of the things that my days held, and I'd listen to them takeoff and land and imagine where they were going or where they were coming from, who was on board, what they'd done, what they'd seen. Every time I drove past the airport, every time I laid in bed, listening to a takeoff reminded me that the world stretched beyond my current conditions. Every time the engines roared overhead, I felt hope.

I'm extremely aware of the click of my heels on the linoleum and the burn in my thighs indicative of the consequences of their height combined with my pace. The muscles in my neck knot around each other, the familiar stress of my everyday life returning and tangling itself around each sinew, twisting. Behind me, someone says my name, low and intimate, followed by a sigh. I tense because no one knows I'm here.

I remember once, First Love and I drove out to the end of a new runway they were building as part of the expansion of the airport. We sat outside that night under the expanse of indigo sky, and talked, laughed, kissed. He asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. The Sasha Thumper in me replied, "Alive."

I turn my head quickly enough for the knots in my neck to snatch. It's not me that's being addressed but rather a tiny girl in a red sweater a few feet away. Standing in front of her is a guy clutching a jacket to his chest, staring at her like she is the thing that's been missing from his life. I sigh at how absurd I'm being, how foolish, my heart pounding wildly in my chest, suddenly out of breath. I'd laugh at myself but I'm tired. I'm so tired. I curl up on the bench closest to me, my feet tucked underneath my legs and lean my head back on the wall. Deep breaths. I have no choice but to have the strength to carry myself forward.

I studied world history in the fifth grade, and it was the only book I remember taking home every night whether I had homework in it or not. I'd study all the places, all the name of cities and important landmarks, the languages, the pictures, so enraptured in world different from my own. I didn't know how, but I was going to figure out how to see every place in every picture in that book. When we moved near the airport that fall, on the heels of yet another destruction, I took it as a sign that I was moving in the right direction. The airport represented promise.

"Please," he says, almost begging, his eyes tight at the corners with grief. "I don't want you to go." She folds herself into his massive arms, tears hanging close to the edges of her long lashes, threatening to fall south.
"I don't want to go either."

I'm reeling at how eerily similar this conversation is to one that I had not even twenty four hours ago. My heart constricts in my chest. I know I shouldn't be watching but I can't possibly look away.
"So don't. Don't leave me. Please," he mumbles into the heavy fall of her red hair. I hear her sniffles and know her face is red just like my own even with her entire front being crushed against his broad frame.
"I have to. Please don't do this. I have to."
"You don't. Stay with me. Everything else we can work out. Just stay." His words are so forceful, so convicted that I can't help but mentally urge her silently to stay.
"I can't. Don't do this."
"You can. You don't want to."
"Of course I do! What are you talking about? You know why I can't. It just isn't that easy."
"But it can be. And any other complications we can work out together." At the mention of that word, I see her face change. I watch her turn inward, disentangle herself from her embrace. Her jaw clinches.
"I'm gonna miss my flight," she says to him, her voice even and emotionless.

The first time I left the country, I cried for the first hour of the twelve hour flight. I couldn't believe I'd done it. I couldn't believe that despite all the curve balls that had been thrown my way, I was on a plane on my way to Paris. I'd done it. I'd taken a step. It wasn't just a promise anymore.

He looks at her and I can see his heart breaking as he regards the change in her. He bites the inside of his jaw, and shuffles his weight back and forth before settling squarely on his two feet, trying hard to fight the tremble in his voice.
"We can't-" he falters- "we can't keep doing this. We can't continue forever this way. It's been years. And every time, every SINGLE time, it gets harder. What else do I have to do? I have faith; why don't you?" I can see her mind clicking behind her eyes, rushing to put together a reason that can cool off the emotional heat of this moment.
"My life just isn't-"
"That's BULLSHIT."

They are silent, his eyes wide with sorrow, the muscles in her limbs twitching and jerking at the urge to run. They stare at each other for a long moment, silently communicating the thing they both know but won't say. He sighs first.
"If your life is the way you want it to be, if this is the way you need it to be, that's fine. For you. But I," he flings his arms out to his sides, surrendering to the thing he probably thought he'd never say, "I can't keep doing this to myself. It's too much." He pauses for her reaction. She is perfectly still, silent.
"Ok. Ok," the second one a studder step behind the first and barely audible above the morning travellers rushing around completely oblivious to the heartbreak unfolding in front of them. He throws the jacket on the ground and pulls her to him so suddenly, so hard, that I gasp out loud. He crushes her with a kiss that seems to charge the air swirling around him. He lets her go and steps away, his eyes sweeping her over and gathering mist in the outer corners.
"I have to go. I love you. But I have to go." And with that he vanishes into the crowd of rushed footsteps and rolling luggage.

Being at the airport always represented a sort of freedom that I have longed for all my life. I remember the dreams of that little fifth grader and for the longest, it seemed like I was on track to achieve them. And somewhere along the way I got stuck in survival mode. And I can't seem to quite get out of it. And the older I've gotten, the more I've lived, the more things have gotten in the way. My outlook has begun to change. Maybe it isn't promise at all. All around, people are saying goodbyes, some final goodbyes, heartbreak hanging high in the beams in the ceilings. No matter where you go in life, on some level, you're leaving someone.

She stands there for awhile, not moving, barely breathing as far as I can tell. When the last piece of fabric from his coat vanishes on the other side of the glass doors, I hear her gasp. She breaks down suddenly, the entire weight of what just happened crashing down on her, buckling her knees. She stumbles to a seat a few away from my own where I have been a silent voyeur, her face wet with tears, wiping her cheeks as rapidly as I am wiping my own. She wraps her arms around herself, sobbing, gasping for air. She feels my eyes on her and turns to me, taking in my wet face and red eyes.
"I should have stayed," she says, barely above a whisper and I nod. She cries harder.

In that moment, I think back over the last few days, tears streaming down my face. I want so badly to push myself up, to compartmentalize what I'm feeling and go about my day as usual, but I just can't seem to. I push my palm into the left side of my chest, silently pleading with my heart to stop breaking. I double over. I think of seafood and candles. I think of random homeless people and feather comforters. I think of wine and embraces, of kisses on my shoulders and turkey burgers and cheese fries. I think of mid-afternoon naps and hot showers, of late night emotional eating, and laughter, of text messages from across the table, and constant plotting. I can't help but smile through my tears.

I think of Tuscany, Jamaica, Chicago, Italy, San Francisco, Greece. I think of Dubai and Puerto Rico.
I think of Spain.

And I can't stop crying. Because I can't help but wonder if every first step starts with some kind of goodbye.

Laying in bed later that night, I was once again that little girl that lived near the airport, contemplating the places she would go. The difference now is that I've lived enough to recognize that my childhood longings weren't about freedom; they were about escape. And really, there is no running. You can only choose where you want to be miserable if you leave. On some level, if you don't say goodbye, you are always a slave to what you left behind.

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

My Cherie Amor

There are some moments in your life who's details will never dull in your memory.

The first moment you realize you're in love with someone.
The birth of a child.
That perfect first kiss.
The day you or your favoritest person gets married.
Your first night in your own place.

The moment you realize that you are watching Stevie Wonder from 13 rows back.

At the risk of sounding disgustingly dramatic, I am pretty sure last night changed my life. Sincerely. The man is a genius. And he's silly. He's superbly talented. He is utterly spectacular.

I really have no words for how amazing his show was last night. All I can say is that if he's coming to a town near you, it's worth the price of the ticket. Hands DOWN.

So, true to form, here are the things you need to know about last night presented in a hilarious and well written list.

1. Stevie Wonder is 114 years old. He's been singing for the last 175 years. He performed straight, nonstop for 2 and a half hours. No choreography, no pyro or special effects, no bullshit. His voice is still as clear and crisp and strong as it was 207 years ago when he started his career. You silly bitches complaining about exhaustion and having issues with your voice? You should be dragged outside and beaten.

2. Anyone who can sing "Knockin' the Boots" and make it sound like a song you'd want your kids to listen to is aiight with me. Ditto for "Bed" and "Rehab".

3. My man stood up on the damn piano... and then JUMPED DOWN. WHAT?!?!?!?

4. Black people are the worst. You mean to tell me, kind sir, that not only were you 30 minutes late to the show, but you crawl over me, all in the middle of "Sir Duke" and then you have the nerve to be so big that you're sitting in all of your chair and half of mine? And you're drowned in Dolce and Gabanna Light Blue (a WOMAN'S perfume?!?!?) and then, THEN you mean to tell me I am supposed to excuse you being dressed like your wife... in a red jumpsuit?!? No mas.

5. You know you're about to see a good show when you sit down and look over the stage and realize there are no huge elaborate sets, no pyro set ups, no abundance of props, no intricate backdrop, just a littering of instruments. Ahh yes, real talent.

6. Experiencing a historic occassion such as the first time in 25 years Mr. Wonder has toured makes everyone fast friends. We bonded with the chicks next to us. By then end of the show, random people who didn't even know each other were dancing together in the aisles. It was a nice display of unity, even if temporary.

7. Have you ever been to a concert so damn good that the audience isn't howling along except when requested? How many people do you know so damn talented that people won't sing along? To that end....

8. You KNOW you're working your ass off to give a good show when you're sweating while sitting down and singing at a piano, as Stevie was.

9. I'm sorry sir, did you just do an entire 10 minute breakdown where your entire vocalization was inhaling and exhaling rhythmically and making it sound perfect? I. just. cant. take it.

10. Really? Really couple? You have on your eighth grade prom dress ma'am, and you, kind sir, have on a tuxedo... LITERALLY? I know, I know, they don't let niggas go nowhere too often but I gotta tell ya... this is why.

At some point, I might attempt to come up with a post that discusses the show a little more in depth. But for right now, I am far too delirious and in shock that I actually saw Stevie Wonder live in a full length concert.

From 13 rows back :-)