Monday, March 31, 2008

If I Ruled the (blog) World...

I can live with the word verification even though it's kinda like suffering through bad foreplay before good sex.

I ever understand your feeling the need to beg for comments. Cuz your shit probably sucks.

And I know, I know. You think you're deep. Except your poetry blows. Even I can rhyme me/we/he/she. BOO.

Sure, I get mildly irritated when I click on a blog when I'm bored at work and they haven't updated in 'ever. (not for... just ever.) But I understand how you can get caught up in living life rather than typing about it. I do it too. No big deal.

I can even deal with your long, rambling, nonsensical posts about your clothes/food/fav tv show recap (Joy you too)/fav book/ode to leggings, whatever.

Real talk, I only have one sincere problem with the blogging game as it is now.

Just one.

I started blogging back in early 05. And I recognize that it's alot different now. Things grow, they mature. They change. It's all good. I expected it. I recognize that as easily accessible as the blogosphere is now, that not everybody is jumping on the bandwagon because they have something interesting to say or something valuable to contribute, or hell, even because they can write.

But that's not my issue. And I recognize, wholeheartedly, that my issue is gonna make me real unpopular with my constituents.

Fuck it.

If I ruled the blog world I would do away with the utterz shit ASAP and immediately.

I know, I know. You all love it. It's the best thing since latex condoms and spanx. And that's cute...
For you.

Except it drives me CRAZY.

I started blogging because I wanted to read about other people's lives and experiences and views on the world. Not because I wanted to listen to yall sit and babble about traffic or fashion faux pas or why you're so fantastic or how you're looking at a cloud that looks like a spaceship.

I mean, if these are your experiences, then that's what's up. But I simply cannot take it. I want to read what you have to say. If I wanted to know what your voice sounded like, I'd call you. That's what I do with the bloggers that have carried over into my everyday life (which is also why I am currently crazy about him because we just had our first phone convo and he is FANTASTIC and everything I knew he would be). I just don't want or need to listen to you ramble. It's why I don't like video blogs or webcams. It takes some of the talent out of blogging doesn't it? Isn't it harder to write something witty or engaging or personal than it is to ramble about the salad that you're chewing in my ear? Can't.

It's like books on tape. It takes something away from the experience.

And plus, do I LOOK like I can listen to you chatter about nonsense and mayhem at my desk at work? NO. Gimme something to READ when I beat my deadlines.

And I know, yall love it like happy hour that starts early and goes late. But really.

Just write.

Tuesday, March 25, 2008


"Honestly though I have always been rather private."
"By private do you mean secretive?" We laugh out loud like girlfriends rather than doctor and patient.

"No I mean private. I have never lied to anyone. If anyone asks me a direct question, I always tell the truth."
"That's interesting, La. Why does it take a direct question?"

I think on it for a moment.

"I have just never been all thatbig on volunteering information. Answering is one thing. Offering up information is another. BOOOO!"

Laughter meets again high above our heads as I pull my legs to my chest and clasp my arms around them.

"I dunno Doc. I just never been huge on offering things up to scrutiny."
"But you've said repeatedly that part of the reason you love your friends so much and why you consider them family is because they don't judge you."
"They don't."
"Then why the secrecy?"

I don't really have an answer for that.

"Let's redirect for a moment, shall we?" she asks me even though we both know it's not really multiple choice. "How do you think it affects your friendships?"
"I would say it probably depends on the person."
"So give me a broad overview."
"There are some people that I feel know me well. There are some that, I'm sure if they really took the time to think about it, they'd realize they don't really know me at all."
"And could some of this at least be at the root of the fact that you feel somewhat alone?" I pause.

"Yo Doc I kinda can't stand you." More laughter. She pats my knee as she gets up to get tea.

"It's human nature to want to belong to someone or something. You want to fit somewhere. You want to be. Many times we believe that in order to fit somewhere, we have to become more like those creatures we love. Most of the times it's subconscious and completely harmless. The pitch of our voice may start to match our friends and lovers. We may start to share vocabulary or gestures that we hear or see repeatedly and unknowingly internalize. That is merely human nature. Sometimes it is more pointed than that. Sometimes we knowingly hide those parts of ourselves we secretly feel they can't or won't understand and accept. I think the special case here," she gestures towards me with the antique white kettle, "is that for you it seems instinctual. Not at all premeditated. Not a conscious effort to keep secrets, because as you said yourself you don't put alot of work into evading those direct questions, but this habit seems to be comfortable to you. So I want to get to the root of why."

I take a deep breath.

"Ok fair enough. I'd say that's a pretty good assessment."
"That's why I get paid the big bucks," she says with her signature deep chortle and gestures to her costume jewelry. We laugh more, loud and long and it makes me feel more than comfortable.

"So let's backtrack. You say your friends don't judge you."
"Not really. I mean, I am sure if I was doing something stupid or dangerous they wouldn't hesitate to let me know I was being stupid or dangerous."
"I'd certainly hope so. But that isn't really judging. Your friends know some things about you that could be considered contrary to who they are or what they believe. And they are still your friends. How do you think it makes them feel to know there are things you are not saying?"
"Wow. I.." I falter. "Honestly I don't think I have ever thought about it before. I always felt like if they felt I was keeping something and they wanted to know they would ask."
"You don't think on a certain level your behavior has trained them not to ask?"
"What do you mean?"
"Meaning, yes, your friends know you to be an honest person. They know you won't lie. But did it ever occur to you that maybe they would want you to endear yourself to them just for the sake of desiring to do so? I hardly believe that these people have been in your life for so many years, with you through so many things, and yet they don't desire to know about the things you keep to yourself. I mean they obviously know you well enough to know you're not being gushingly forthcoming. But maybe they have also have taken a cue from you to not ask. It is basic human desire, hardwired into all of us, to want to connect to people. To know them. To share with them. But in order to truly keep that desire alive, it has to be an equal and balanced channel of giving and receiving. And unknowingly or not, I'm willing to bet, albeit completely unconsciously, you have cut that off. You have taught them not to be the very type of friend you really need. You haven't been as good a friend as you can and want to be, La."

I'm speechless. Absolutely and utterly speechless. She lets the silence linger for a moment in her office. It never grows uncomfortable. Mostly, it is just profound. My mouth is literally agape.

"Now," she says breaking my stupor, "some instincts are purely animalistic. They are hard wired. You sense fear, your adrenaline starts to pump. Some are learned. So where did you learn this La? Why? Let's get back to that question. Your friends love you. And you adore these people. That much is obvious. So many people say things like 'I'd do anything for my friends' or 'my friends mean the world to me' and they're are just cliches. With you," she points her perfectly manicured nail at me, "I think you mean it. You internalize your friendships in such a way that they become a part of you. They are vital. And that sounds intense and scary, but that can be a good thing if you have chosen the right people which, it seems like at this point, for the most part, you have. By your own admission, your friends don't really judge you. And if they do, it is not to the degree that it damages your bond. So why so secretive?"

I think about it long and hard. In my over intellectualized mind, I am coming up with a million reasons that ring like excuses in my head. I'm quiet, considering my answer carefully.

"I think," I start, fumbling with the hair at nape of my neck, "I think it's because, once you say it, once you speak it, you become accountable for it, don't you? I mean, no matter what the outcome, good or bad, that becomes part of the landscape of who you are. You have to be it. You have to own up to it. There is a power in speaking things that maybe I don't think I am ready to face. I am not always ready to be publicly accountable, I don't think." I pause, my voice dropped barely above a whisper, "Especially if I fail."

She nods thoughtful at my assessment, her fingers steepled beneath her pointy chin. After awhile a smile spreads slowly across her face.

"You know if half my clients were as smart and self aware as you, I would be a librarian."
"Not smart. Just incredibly aware of my own deficiencies."
"That, as they say, is the first step." She winks at me. "So, one last question and then I will let you go. And I don't want an answer. I just want you to think about it."

I ready myself because I feel like she's about to drop something heavy on my head, as she often does at the end of our sessions.

"Could that fear of being accountable, especially if you fail, be why you aren't truly doing what you want to do with your life?"



Today I went to see my boss. I closed her office door and told her I was interested in transferring to another position. In another city.
In New York City.

She walked me around to the HR department, explaining to me the transfer process and what I would have to do. She handed me the paperwork I'd need to get the process started.
"You know they prefer to promote from within," she says to me and she smiles.

And so it begins.

And now I am accountable.

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Just When I Thought I Said all I can Say...

My heels barely make a sound as I walk down the hallway and I realize about this halfway down they're silent because I'm tiptoeing. I feel so foolish. The door is at the end of the hallway, 'Loft 8'  etched in the shiny plaque cemented to it. I raise a shaky hand to knock. Pause. Drop it back down at my side. Raise it again to only run my fingers through my short red bob. I take a deep breath. I shift my weight. Inhale again. Adjust my clothes. Try and gnaw a hole in my bottom lip. I could leave and no one would know I was here. No one would know what I was considering.

But I'd always wonder what if, wouldn't I?

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

I Always Hated Usher

DAMN I'm dragging my feet on this confession thing. lol

None of yall have exactly inspired me to reveal any deep dark secrets.

And by that I mean I'm being a punk.

Come on wit it!!! lol

Friday, March 14, 2008

In an Effort to Not Contribute to the Slackassness...

(Rashan is a fool for that)

1. Why did I pay an accountant $50 to do my taxes when I coulda did them myself online and still gotten the same (not what I expected) result?

2. Why did yall ever let me get a credit card?

3. Is it shallow that I can't stop starring at my hips and ass in every shiny surface I pass because...

4. I'm wearing my skinny jeans!!!!!! :-)

5. I can't believe I lived without a Blackberry this long. Can't. Believe.

6. Me > without coffee = cranky. Too bad I have given it up. *le sigh*

7. My hair and I are having an argument. My hair is winning. I fear my only recourse is to Britney Spears it.

8. Why has the appropriate amount of time lapsed and I still have on braces? Sonofbitches!!!

9. Memphis, Baltimore, New Orleans, Chicago, Miami... I'll take cities I will have travelled to by May for 200. That resolution to travel more in 2008 is really going well :-)

10. I wanna new tattoo. As I have been saying for 6 months. I am waiting for inspiration to strike. Elsewise I'm just going to start piercing random shit.

11. Hi. I'm La. I screen.


12. Does anyone else watch Eli Stone? If not, I command you start watching it immediately once new episodes start up. It's soooo good.

13. Why did First Love call me to give me a piece of his mind for me not calling on his birthday? *blank stare* Did we not break up AT LEAST 17 years ago? *looking around for clarification* My response?

"I'm really sorry. I didn't know you'd feel some type of way about it." *blank. stare.*

14. Was it really necessary for everyone to turn and laugh at me in the gym yesterday when I fell? Surely it wasn't.

15. Speaking of gyms, the stickfigurewithnosoulwhohasabsolutelynoneedforworkingout is gym stalking me. Surely I'm gonna be forced to snap her famished neck in the locker room if she keeps taunting me with her goddamn thighs that don't touch.

16. I am afraid that my antisocial-ocity has caused me to lose all my friends here in Texas. I'm kinda completely alone. Meh. *shrug*

17. Why did I give up drinking? To lose weight? That was a HORRIBLE idea!!! Can't I just go on a liquid diet?

And by liquid I mean Bacardi based. But only in moderation.


18. I know, I know. You just had a kid. You're excited about this next chapter in your life. You feel like your life has meaning. You think your kid is the cutest kid born in any year other than 84 (cuz I was the cutest kid born in 84). Miracle of life. Greatest gift of all. Yadda yadda yadda. But jesus could you AT LEAST but your tits away and stop feeding the goddamn thing in public?!?!?!

19. I am desperately in need of some pizza. And why does the TV I am watching at work continuously run Papa John's ads? Sonsofbitches.

20. I miss everyone's birthday. First Joy's, now my wife. *le sigh* Texas blows.

21. For what I am spending to fill up my car these days, I could easily have bought these shoes... and a clutch to match. And some skinny jeans to wear with them. And those dangly hoops I want. And the DSquared blazer I need to live. WTF George Bush?!?!?!?

22. All the time I spent worrying that I was gonna turn into my mother, I look up and now I've turned into my daddy. Who knew?

23. I am DYING to see if j.lo's twins look like her. And if they do, if they look like jenny in her Bronx days or after she got money. Or if they look like Skeletor... I mean Marc. *shudder*

24. Why American Idol? Just. Why?

25. Am I going through quarter life crisis early? I am NOT prepared.

Monday, March 10, 2008

Who's Even Surprised?

This story was written by Adrienne Lee

Daily TexanVolunteers who worked the Jester Center caucus on Tuesday are suspicious of at least one of the caucus lists, the precinct chairman said late Thursday night. At least three students who signed the list verified that the candidates attached to their names were not the candidates they voted for.

Government senior Ray Skidmore, precinct chair for the voting precinct that includes all UT dorms, said one of the caucus volunteers on Thursday noticed almost identical handwriting on one of the caucus sheets. Volunteers were recounting the caucus numbers Wednesday and Thursday, Skidmore said, just to double-check before turning them in today. Information from all caucuses - forms and the official delegate counts - are due to the Travis County clerk's office today by 6 p.m. When recounting, the volunteer noticed a whole list had Sen. Hillary Clinton written in similar handwriting in the presidential preference column for each of the six voters on that list. Skidmore started calling each of the voters on the list when he reached finance senior Ronesha Holmes, who told him she did not write Clinton as her preference; Holmes said she was instructed to leave that line blank.

"Even one discrepancy threw up a flag of suspicion," Skidmore said.

As he continued calling people on the list Thursday, he found that two other students, history and pre-med sophomore Abigail Cheney and government sophomore Adam Aldrete, said they did not fill in a presidential preference and that Clinton was not who they would have listed.

"I think it's pretty disappointing," Skidmore said. "It might not affect the [number of] delegates, but it's the integrity of the process that may turn people off." He added that he was sorry for the inconveniences or problems the situation may cause.

Both Cheney and Aldrete said those in their caucus line were given a sheet of paper and told to fill out as much information as possible and that the last person in line would take the list to the appropriate caucus official.

"It sounded sketchy, but the whole situation was sketchy," Cheney said.

Cheney, Aldrete and Holmes said the caucus was unorganized and that caucus lists passed down the lines were not properly monitored by caucus officials."I mean, who's to say sheets didn't get put in people's backpacks?" Holmes said. "I just want it all to be fixed and fair."Skidmore said he will be contacting the county clerk's office first thing this morning.

There were at least 550 people at the Jester Center caucus, Skidmore said, who signed 80 caucus lists. He said the other 79 sheets "looked very legit, but I'm going to check through them."Skidmore is asking for all students who voted in Precinct 148 at the Jester Center caucus to send him an e-mail verifying their name, presidential preference and, if possible, voter ID number. He asks that those students e-mail him from the e-mail address they listed on the caucus sheet.

Friday, March 7, 2008

I love older buildings. When I was living in New York, it was part of the reason I loved living on the upper westside. I prefer them to all the new, modern condos that are popping up in every city (probably part of the reason I am so in love with your place... aside from the fact that, you know, you are there). They're comfy. They have character. Although the closets are small enough to make me wanna cry, the hardwood floors (SO important to me) that are usually standard issue more than make up for it. There's a building in midtown Atlanta that I'm DESPERATELY in love with, that I'm CONVINCED I need to live in immediately. It is second only to the sprawling ranch style brick homes scattered throughout historic neighborhoods around the city. I LOVE them. (and they have porches in front and back! *wink*)

The juxtaposition of old and new in all the cities I love is interesting to me. It seems an appropriate metaphor for life.

Today I woke up and felt different. New. My steps feel solid. Confident. My heart less broken. Less weathered and beaten. Hopeful. Focused. My entire body felt electric, energetic. On fire.

My dance teacher in middle school and high school was a tiny little thing. Barely 5 feet, IF that. A fellow mixed breed woman, fiery, hair down to her ass, a low solid voice that could nail your ass to a wall at 10 feet. She rode me hard for the 6 years I knew her. Nothing was sacred. Nothing was beyond her scrutiny. Not just my dancing technique, my love life, the friends I kept, my schoolwork, my language, my focus, my clothes, my future plans, everything. She was hard on me. Finally, one day my senior year after she'd made me cry in front of my entire ballet class, I was over at her house and asked her why.

"You are so unaware of your own strength, your own resilience, and I hate it. I have watched you flourish more than any of my other students in a far more condensed time. And you don't see it. You tread so lightly when you should be knocking everything over in your path."

I remember staring at her with my mouth open. she was really ANGRY with me.

"Lemme tell you something about women like us," she said. "We MAKE it. And we don't just make it, we flourish, and we make it look easy. We make people think they can do the same. And I'm tired of you shying away from it. That's who you are. When it comes down to it, you put your toe to the line and you go for broke because THAT'S WHAT WE DO. No excuses. We were born to do it. Half the time you spend worrying and crying about how you're gonna make it through something, you're blinding yourself to the fact that you're probably already halfway through it. You're strong. And its about time you fucking started acting like it."

I literally didn't utter a word to another soul for 2 days after that.

The building I love in midtown is now flanked on the right and left by a steel and glass creation that rises about 15 stories and a levelled piece of land that will, no doubt, be home to another set of condos. My building is a modest 4 floor building, a large staircase in the middle splitting cozy apartments on either side, complete with hardwood floors and big windows that face the street. Its the kinda neighborhood where I could walk honey, where we could sit on the balcony and smoke a black and people watch. Where I could open my windows and doors in the spring. In some ways, I'm sure it appears dated and old to some. But it strikes a cord with me. It has character. It means something. In stands in testament to the things that have passed.

Kinda like the scars I have from the things that have happened to me. They too stand in monument to the things, people and places I have lost. They're not as pretty as the new shiny things that are being built, but they have character. they mean something. and really, they're not so bad.

They are the representation of old and new, standing side by side to create the kinda neighborhood that feels like home.

Wednesday, March 5, 2008

It's 1:07.

I am still in a high school auditorium trying to caucus in Texas.

Texas and it's goddamn two-step will be what costs Obama this election.

I love seeing the many layers in which this country's inherrent racism unfold.

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

Tricks and Toys

Libby is trying unsuccessfully to hide behind her long brown bangs. The sight of her scrunched shoulders, hair hung low over over sized Dolce frames is enough to send me into full on convulsions of laughter.

"Dammit La stop laughing at me! I can't believe I let you bring me here!"

I laugh harder and louder, loud enough to draw the attention of the guy behind the counter. I give him the once over and lean into Libby.

"I wonder if he'd be willing to demonstrate some of the products?"

I feign an innocent face as I cock my head to the side and take in the barely contained muscles of his arms under his black t-shirt. I may or may not have purred at him under my breath.

"Ohmigod he's gonna hear you! Shut up!" she hisses at me as I lean a little to watch him bend over to pick up a box.
"Oh I'm sorry what? I was *ahem* distracted."

He turns and catches us huddling in the doorway.

"Hi ladies." He flashes the most gorgeous smile I have ever seen on a man I didn't make up in my head. "Come on in. I'm Eddie if you need anything."
"Oh Eddie, I need alot of things. Whatcha got?" Libby elbows me and snatches me down an aisle giggling.

"I cannot believe you! You don't even know him!" she says to me all wide eyed and cute.
"So? How else will I get to know him? Besides, he was kinda the best thing my eyes have looked at all day." She elbows me again and then takes in her surroundings all wide eyed.

"I dunno where to start La."
"Ok. Let's start with something basic. Something not too fancy, not too expensive, just enough to do what you need it to do and get you acclimated, and you won't be mad when it breaks. So none of this," I gesture to my right, "and all of this is just... wrong," I say gesturing to my left.

"Oh! I had this!" I say when I notice some familiar packaging. "This may be a lil too extra for you at this point. *pause* I'm pretty sure I broke mine. But it was cheap so I didn't mind too much. This will do the trick."

I throw the box at her head and she barely catches it.

"This is cool. I have this. And I dunno what this is but it looks interesting." I study the box a little more closely. "Oh my God. You are SO in." I throw two boxes at her. "Hell, I am too." I take one for myself.

"You're gonna need this," I throw a black bottle at her. "And every woman should have one of these." Another box. "You're not gonna want to for awhile, but one day you're gonna want this," a small box, "and you'll be SO glad you have it." I turn around to face her.

"Aww, my little girl is growing up."
"Bite me."
"No ma'am."

We do a little more window shopping, discussing some of the things that catch our eye as we peruse the aisles.

"Oh," I say to her, "I bet this would be good for the water trick."
"The what?" she asks me with a confused look on her face.
"The water trick."
"What's that?" It's my turn to look at her with the blank face.
"You don't know the water trick?"
"You know, the thing with the cold water?" She still looks confused. "Jesus. I'm so glad we're here."

We spend about another 30 minutes browsing until I make up her mind for her.
"Get this one. You need it."

She hangs her head at the register while I flirt with Eddie, pays in cash and stuffs the nondescript bag in her over sized purse.
"Let's go," she says as she makes a break for the door.

Once we get in the car I am no longer able to contain laughing at her.

"Aww honey," I tell her tucking her bangs behind her ear. "Don't be ashamed. You'll be so glad you came... in a manner of speaking." She bursts into girlish giggles.
"My daddy is gonna kill me," she drawls at me, her full Texas accent on display

And that's how La helped Libby, as she has many others, pick out her first Bullet.