First off, lemme start this one by sending out a great big, Rick Ross sized shout out to my BFF on her birthday. Wishing you all the love, peace, success, and Louboutins you can stand, girl...today and always.
My horoscope for today:
Tuesday, Dec 23rd, 2008 -- The boundary between friendship and romance can be a delicate one. Even if you are not seeking anything more, you can benefit from staying in touch with your emotions. It's not about taking any specific action or trying to attain love. The current lesson is about allowing yourself to fully experience the desires of your heart without making anyone responsible for your happiness.
Imagine my shock when I read this early this morning. It completely sums up the battle I have been having lately, and even the stars are with me. Just feel what the fuck you feel, and be confident that you can handle it. I don't need to be co-signed, just understood, and maybe not even that. Is it "easy", or "clean" for energy to be reciprocated? Of course. But I have learned that some of the greatest lessons come from things being far from perfect.
This whole year has been one in which I was forced to develop confidence. I was afraid to live alone, didn't think I could "make it", afraid to be single, although I already was. In many ways, afraid of being free. At first, I thought free meant being unclaimed, not wanted...
This morning, 365 days to the day that I realized my last relationship was doomed, I stood before the mirror a new(er) woman. I stood infinitely more confident than I felt last year, having experienced more in one year that in the last 5 combined. More emotionally stable, more sincere in my belief in myself, more... just more. In every way, both good and bad, but pleased with who and what I bring to the table.
Funny shit is, I even had a cordial and pleasing conversation with my son's dad today. I was surprised to feel... nothing. No pang of "I miss what we had", like I did so many times before, but a real hope that at some point, we could be friends and real partners in raising our boy. For the first time, I realized "this mofo will miss me and my talkative, excited for no reason ass". For so long, I was focused on what I had missed, I was too busy seeing that someone could be missing me too!
Today, I stood before the mirror a woman in progress, moving forward, understanding and valuing her blessings, knowing that although I fuck up a lot, my son still loves me, and is riding with me, and most importantly, NOT paralyzed by fear the way I was a year ago.
I have learned that life is not always fair, or fun, but the highs can be so high. Although I swore not to mention him again, I can also be fearless in saying that yes, I like my friend, and he knows it. I say it with no disclaimers, and no expectations. It would be nice and clean and simple to have my feelings reciprocated, but if they are not, it's ok. It is his choice, and he is entitled to feel any way he wants. His feelings have no bearings on mine. I will not be mad at myself anymore. I enjoy what we have, and am happy to have experienced it. The beauty of how I feel abt him is that...I FEEL!!!! I thought my feelings were numb, that I'd never like anyone again. Who knew? The heart is miraculous!
In this new year, I will stop feeling guilty, and extract all the joy I can from life, because when bad shit happens, it don't wait for you to be ready. I am the keeper of my own heart. How exciting it is to be able to see possibilty instead of gloom, to see the glass half full after so long of seeing it as half empty!!!!! Today, I take back the reins. I release my ex of the burden of making me unhappy. I gave him 52 weeks, and guess what, just like in Monopoly, I went around the board once. You can come on outta jail, buddy. This does not mean we won't have our issues, but I am getting out of the "victim" box. Ultimately, we can both come outta jail.
I am the keeper of my own heart. I am the captain of this mothafuckin ship, and I LIKE being in charge! I'm the Queen of my world!!!!!!
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
We can't be friends...
If we're fuckin.
I read many blogs, and the question of whether men and women can be friends if the get it in has come up A LOT in recent weeks. I had been wanting to write about this, but I didn't know what to say. Until now. Well, until yesterday. I had wanted to be all modern, to say that yes, you can (shout out to OBAMA), but....
Hells naw. At least not with THIS CHICK.
I don't know of any word(s) to describe a relationship where people are not romantically commited but they get it in, but I know one word it ain't: friends. I say this based on what I have seen and experienced. If at least one of the partners is discerning, if they are not fucking willy nilly, then they have more than a friendship. Point blank. As far as I am concerned, I chose to make you and keep you as a partner. Every friend I have does not get that privilege, so consider yourself special.
Accept it, then FWC: fuck with caution.
The same way a romantic relationship has to be discussed between the partners, so does a FWB (friend with benefits).
Here are some of the issues that should be discussed BEFORE engaging:
* Birth control
* STI testing
* Dating: Are you actively searching? What stage are you in? Have you met someone you like?
* Am I the only person you are sexing? Are you using protection with them? (to ME, it matters)
* Finish this sentence: If I get pregnant, I will:____________________
(it CAN happen, better to be upfront about it)
The funniest shit is that the Million Dollar question is rarely EVER discussed between FWB's: Why aren't WE a match? If you have a friendship, consider this person attractive enough to bone, the reasons why you are NOT a good match should be laid out and agreed upon. Granted, feelings change, but if you are not moving forward "for the sake of the friendship" consider this: In most cases, the friendship is already changed. Once he has had his head in your crotch or vice versa, the game done changed.
More on this topic later....
I read many blogs, and the question of whether men and women can be friends if the get it in has come up A LOT in recent weeks. I had been wanting to write about this, but I didn't know what to say. Until now. Well, until yesterday. I had wanted to be all modern, to say that yes, you can (shout out to OBAMA), but....
Hells naw. At least not with THIS CHICK.
I don't know of any word(s) to describe a relationship where people are not romantically commited but they get it in, but I know one word it ain't: friends. I say this based on what I have seen and experienced. If at least one of the partners is discerning, if they are not fucking willy nilly, then they have more than a friendship. Point blank. As far as I am concerned, I chose to make you and keep you as a partner. Every friend I have does not get that privilege, so consider yourself special.
Accept it, then FWC: fuck with caution.
The same way a romantic relationship has to be discussed between the partners, so does a FWB (friend with benefits).
Here are some of the issues that should be discussed BEFORE engaging:
* Birth control
* STI testing
* Dating: Are you actively searching? What stage are you in? Have you met someone you like?
* Am I the only person you are sexing? Are you using protection with them? (to ME, it matters)
* Finish this sentence: If I get pregnant, I will:____________________
(it CAN happen, better to be upfront about it)
The funniest shit is that the Million Dollar question is rarely EVER discussed between FWB's: Why aren't WE a match? If you have a friendship, consider this person attractive enough to bone, the reasons why you are NOT a good match should be laid out and agreed upon. Granted, feelings change, but if you are not moving forward "for the sake of the friendship" consider this: In most cases, the friendship is already changed. Once he has had his head in your crotch or vice versa, the game done changed.
More on this topic later....
Monday, November 10, 2008
Hope.
I’ve been in love a few times. I’ve had the fortune of having my love be reciprocated for the most part, but some of those times, I have had the misfortune of loving a brotha who wasn’t smart enough to love me back the way I wanted to be loved.
When you love someone who doesn’t really love you back, or doesn’t know how, it’s a strange feeling. As the lover, you perform to the best of your ability every day, you go above and beyond the call of duty, and you exist on hope. The hope that one day, this lover will see you for who you are, will appreciate your love, your effort, will appreciate you, will see your true value and love you back, and make your dreams come true.
Unfortunately for me, as a WOMAN, I never had that luck.
BUT – as an AMERICAN, On November 4th, I felt the euphoria of feeling WANTED. Respected, understood…VALUED. It wasn’t a personal victory, but Barack Obama’s election as the 44th president of the USA was mine nonetheless. It wasn’t just mine, either. As soon as I heard Charlie Gibson make the prediction, alongside my own whoops of joy, and my son right next to me high fiving me, I heard pots and pans clanging, windows being opened to scream, people whooping and hollering, and because I live in the hood, celebratory gunshots.
In the moments that followed, between text messages, and a tearful phonecall to my best friend, where she put an image in my head that gave me chills – little brown girls playing on the front lawn in their two strand twists and cornrows – how great is THAT! Between Sen’ari chanting “Obama – not McCain”, before McCain’s touching (I was touched) concession speech, and before Obama’s speech at the park that made rivers of tears fall down my cheeks, I watched my Harlem neighbors rejoice, felt the happiness in my own heart. As I kissed my son’s hands, I marveled at how different his life could be from mine.
The next day, I was still on a high. I get off the train at 57th Street and Broadway, and just stare out while waiting for the bus. It seemed that in the 24 hours since I had last seenthis block, the world had changed. It really had. I see an older Black lady, which is rare, because I had never seen a Black elder there before – it’s generally little old white ladies waiting, and she must have seen what was in my heart. She asked me “Isn’t today a great day?” We smiled at each other knowingly, understanding what was in each other’s heart.
Yes, it was.
When you love someone who doesn’t really love you back, or doesn’t know how, it’s a strange feeling. As the lover, you perform to the best of your ability every day, you go above and beyond the call of duty, and you exist on hope. The hope that one day, this lover will see you for who you are, will appreciate your love, your effort, will appreciate you, will see your true value and love you back, and make your dreams come true.
Unfortunately for me, as a WOMAN, I never had that luck.
BUT – as an AMERICAN, On November 4th, I felt the euphoria of feeling WANTED. Respected, understood…VALUED. It wasn’t a personal victory, but Barack Obama’s election as the 44th president of the USA was mine nonetheless. It wasn’t just mine, either. As soon as I heard Charlie Gibson make the prediction, alongside my own whoops of joy, and my son right next to me high fiving me, I heard pots and pans clanging, windows being opened to scream, people whooping and hollering, and because I live in the hood, celebratory gunshots.
In the moments that followed, between text messages, and a tearful phonecall to my best friend, where she put an image in my head that gave me chills – little brown girls playing on the front lawn in their two strand twists and cornrows – how great is THAT! Between Sen’ari chanting “Obama – not McCain”, before McCain’s touching (I was touched) concession speech, and before Obama’s speech at the park that made rivers of tears fall down my cheeks, I watched my Harlem neighbors rejoice, felt the happiness in my own heart. As I kissed my son’s hands, I marveled at how different his life could be from mine.
The next day, I was still on a high. I get off the train at 57th Street and Broadway, and just stare out while waiting for the bus. It seemed that in the 24 hours since I had last seenthis block, the world had changed. It really had. I see an older Black lady, which is rare, because I had never seen a Black elder there before – it’s generally little old white ladies waiting, and she must have seen what was in my heart. She asked me “Isn’t today a great day?” We smiled at each other knowingly, understanding what was in each other’s heart.
Yes, it was.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Thanks... I think.....
I believe in closed door blessings. Sometimes, what you don't get is as important as what you do get.
Where's the story? Well, here it comes: A few weeks ago, after a brunch/dinner with friends, I had a heated discussion (ok - argument) with a friend. She is angry at Black men, because they don't step up their game, and marry sistas. That is a whole 'nother blog, and probably a series of blogs, to be honest, but in her frustration, she stepped up her insult game and took it to a place I wasn't expecting - the "baby momma". In case you haven't been reading, I am a baby momma, so I was listening intently when the point she was trying to make shifted from "these bitch ass niggas out here" (which I can relate to as I have referred to many a man as a bitch ass) to "baby mommas are contributing to this problem because they keep on reproducing with these niggas".
Screech - "whaaat?!?!?!"
Wow. I felt like old boy in Shottas: "ya gone too far, Biggs..." She took it to a place where it became reaaal personal. As I calmed myself down from reaching across that table and giving her an old fashioned beat down, I reminded her that my son was the product of a union where there was love. I was not a guest on Maury, he was not some dude I wanted to just fuck, and not all baby mommas were no ambition having women who settled for just being with anyone.
My BFF was there too, and after I stormed out, I was kinda mad at her because I felt as if she hadn't "defended" me. For the next few days, I was disgusted everytime I thought about the conversation. You know those memories that come at you while you washing dishes, stirring your chili, and they make you so mad you start talking all up under your breath? That's what I felt. Rage.
By this time, my BFF and I had spoken, all was squashed on that end, but I was still ready to not EVER speak to this other friend again.
Then she emailed me, apologized for her words. I didn't reply.
A few weeks pass, and my rage dies down, and one day, I started to reflect on what she had said. I realized that although she was mean, I agreed with her on some points. I did think that Black men drop the ball on marriage. I had wanted to marry my son's dad at one point. I wanted to be validated as a wife, I wanted to have that public recognition, and fuck it - I put in work.... I earned my ring!
In fact, I still do, to a man that will love, honor, and cherish me and my son, and want me to do the same for him.
From that conversation with myself, what I realized was that maybe I was projecting on her, and reading more into what she had said because I was feeling so unrealized in love. I was disappointed, feeling as if people looked on me and my son with pity, or underestimate the depth of my feelings or effort in the relationship because I was not a wife.
I had to accept that she had some valid points. I had been with a Black man who didn't mary me. I believe he loved me, but maybe not enough. This conversation forced me to examine anger issues and insecurity I thought I had suppressed. It also opened up a world of questions.
Why was I so angered by her comments? Was it because they had touched a nerve? YES. Was I hurt by what she said because it had some truth to it, in my own life? YES. Was I upset that despite my best efforts, shit came undone, that I would always be lumped in the "baby momma" category,and not that of "ex-wife", which carries more social clout? YES.
As I sat and reflected, I realized I had some things to work on: I had to accept that people will have their opinions about me, and more importantly, that I had some things to work on, to get my mind right, to fully deal with. I cannot control the past, nor can I let it control me. One failed relationship does not define me. It is up to me to make sure it does not.
Don't get me wrong: I'm still hurt by some of the comments. I thought they were harsh as hell, and our relationship has changed. Despite that, however, I was glad to have had the catalyst for that conversation I needed to have with myself.
Where's the story? Well, here it comes: A few weeks ago, after a brunch/dinner with friends, I had a heated discussion (ok - argument) with a friend. She is angry at Black men, because they don't step up their game, and marry sistas. That is a whole 'nother blog, and probably a series of blogs, to be honest, but in her frustration, she stepped up her insult game and took it to a place I wasn't expecting - the "baby momma". In case you haven't been reading, I am a baby momma, so I was listening intently when the point she was trying to make shifted from "these bitch ass niggas out here" (which I can relate to as I have referred to many a man as a bitch ass) to "baby mommas are contributing to this problem because they keep on reproducing with these niggas".
Screech - "whaaat?!?!?!"
Wow. I felt like old boy in Shottas: "ya gone too far, Biggs..." She took it to a place where it became reaaal personal. As I calmed myself down from reaching across that table and giving her an old fashioned beat down, I reminded her that my son was the product of a union where there was love. I was not a guest on Maury, he was not some dude I wanted to just fuck, and not all baby mommas were no ambition having women who settled for just being with anyone.
My BFF was there too, and after I stormed out, I was kinda mad at her because I felt as if she hadn't "defended" me. For the next few days, I was disgusted everytime I thought about the conversation. You know those memories that come at you while you washing dishes, stirring your chili, and they make you so mad you start talking all up under your breath? That's what I felt. Rage.
By this time, my BFF and I had spoken, all was squashed on that end, but I was still ready to not EVER speak to this other friend again.
Then she emailed me, apologized for her words. I didn't reply.
A few weeks pass, and my rage dies down, and one day, I started to reflect on what she had said. I realized that although she was mean, I agreed with her on some points. I did think that Black men drop the ball on marriage. I had wanted to marry my son's dad at one point. I wanted to be validated as a wife, I wanted to have that public recognition, and fuck it - I put in work.... I earned my ring!
In fact, I still do, to a man that will love, honor, and cherish me and my son, and want me to do the same for him.
From that conversation with myself, what I realized was that maybe I was projecting on her, and reading more into what she had said because I was feeling so unrealized in love. I was disappointed, feeling as if people looked on me and my son with pity, or underestimate the depth of my feelings or effort in the relationship because I was not a wife.
I had to accept that she had some valid points. I had been with a Black man who didn't mary me. I believe he loved me, but maybe not enough. This conversation forced me to examine anger issues and insecurity I thought I had suppressed. It also opened up a world of questions.
Why was I so angered by her comments? Was it because they had touched a nerve? YES. Was I hurt by what she said because it had some truth to it, in my own life? YES. Was I upset that despite my best efforts, shit came undone, that I would always be lumped in the "baby momma" category,and not that of "ex-wife", which carries more social clout? YES.
As I sat and reflected, I realized I had some things to work on: I had to accept that people will have their opinions about me, and more importantly, that I had some things to work on, to get my mind right, to fully deal with. I cannot control the past, nor can I let it control me. One failed relationship does not define me. It is up to me to make sure it does not.
Don't get me wrong: I'm still hurt by some of the comments. I thought they were harsh as hell, and our relationship has changed. Despite that, however, I was glad to have had the catalyst for that conversation I needed to have with myself.
Monday, October 13, 2008
I ain't no size 20!!!!
Except I am. At least according to RK Bridal.
It's hard for me to accept, and it's not right, but I have to accept - I am fat. Now, some will say "nah, girl...you are thick". Luckily, I can distract a fool by throwing some (double) D's on him, and I have a Black woman ass, but real talk: I am big. Bigger than I would like to be.
Lemme let you in on a secret - I thought I would lose weight through this breakup shit. It was one of the few things I was actually looking forward to, because women in my family tradionally lose weight when breakups occur.
Imma have to ask my momma if I was adopted, cause this fat on my ass went NOWHERE.
I used to fantasize about seeing my BD, being a slimmer size, having him watch me walk away like he did the (second) first time we met, like Gregory Hines watched Loretta Devine walk away in "Waiting to Exhale". Not so far.
Now, don't get me wrong: I am a bad bitch. At any size. I am a cute woman, and while my look would not work on everyone, I feel good about how I look when I go out.
The problem is, I am ready to feel GREAT. Good is not good enough anymore.
A few years ago, I was fortunate to be chosen for a weight loss study where I got 3 months of free workouts, food, and lost about 25 pounds in 3 months. The first week was torture, and by the end, I was loving the clearheadedness (is that a word?) that came with sweating and working out. The problem? I gained it all back.
It's just getting started that sucks. Moving my ass off the sofa is actually scary. It's funny how you can know something, and still feel powerless to do what I know I need to do.
I have been told "you can't keep doing the same thing and expecting different results", "don't talk about it, be about it", "just do it", and still, where am I? In front of the tv watching the Style Network. Bored, and shocked at my own complacency with something I hate.
Does this mean that I am not ready to be healthier, slimmer? I really don't know what I need to do to get more motivated. Maybe I am depressed and don't know it. Maybe I need to figure out what will motivate me to act.
Like Jessica Care Moore wrote: "I am pregnant with potential, but I birth silence".
RIGHT NOW. Working on yourself takes a lot more energy than I had initially expected. I'm coming to grips with the fact that I'm standing in my own way sometimes. I spent a long time blaming C for my success, or lack thereof, and all of a sudden, you wake up and you look at the mirror, and truly see that you are the captain of your ship, mistress of your destiny, and that realization can be just as scary a proposition as not having any power (or feeling powerless).
It's hard for me to accept, and it's not right, but I have to accept - I am fat. Now, some will say "nah, girl...you are thick". Luckily, I can distract a fool by throwing some (double) D's on him, and I have a Black woman ass, but real talk: I am big. Bigger than I would like to be.
Lemme let you in on a secret - I thought I would lose weight through this breakup shit. It was one of the few things I was actually looking forward to, because women in my family tradionally lose weight when breakups occur.
Imma have to ask my momma if I was adopted, cause this fat on my ass went NOWHERE.
I used to fantasize about seeing my BD, being a slimmer size, having him watch me walk away like he did the (second) first time we met, like Gregory Hines watched Loretta Devine walk away in "Waiting to Exhale". Not so far.
Now, don't get me wrong: I am a bad bitch. At any size. I am a cute woman, and while my look would not work on everyone, I feel good about how I look when I go out.
The problem is, I am ready to feel GREAT. Good is not good enough anymore.
A few years ago, I was fortunate to be chosen for a weight loss study where I got 3 months of free workouts, food, and lost about 25 pounds in 3 months. The first week was torture, and by the end, I was loving the clearheadedness (is that a word?) that came with sweating and working out. The problem? I gained it all back.
It's just getting started that sucks. Moving my ass off the sofa is actually scary. It's funny how you can know something, and still feel powerless to do what I know I need to do.
I have been told "you can't keep doing the same thing and expecting different results", "don't talk about it, be about it", "just do it", and still, where am I? In front of the tv watching the Style Network. Bored, and shocked at my own complacency with something I hate.
Does this mean that I am not ready to be healthier, slimmer? I really don't know what I need to do to get more motivated. Maybe I am depressed and don't know it. Maybe I need to figure out what will motivate me to act.
Like Jessica Care Moore wrote: "I am pregnant with potential, but I birth silence".
RIGHT NOW. Working on yourself takes a lot more energy than I had initially expected. I'm coming to grips with the fact that I'm standing in my own way sometimes. I spent a long time blaming C for my success, or lack thereof, and all of a sudden, you wake up and you look at the mirror, and truly see that you are the captain of your ship, mistress of your destiny, and that realization can be just as scary a proposition as not having any power (or feeling powerless).
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Back to life.... Back to (Present) Reality....
So there ya have it: Some of what happened to force me to evolve. It wasn't really my choice. I had to start running, or continue to get run over. Now, don't get me wrong: My son's dad is not the world's most awful person, and I am not perfect. I did tell him a few things that really got under his skin, and was probably a pain in the ass sometimes. Ok, definitely.
Yeah, that is my attempt at being fair to him. I have to see him waaay more that is comfortable, and I work REALLY hard at being chill. Sometimes, though, like today - he gets me so fucking worked up....OOOH!
I don't know why I'm thinking about our recent past, but I am... So here's more of my herstory....
When he asked/demanded that I move, I was so shocked and broke I didn't know what to do. I felt like I had no one. I lived/worked in the Bx, and my closest advocate lived in Bk. We had done this before, the whole "get out/i'm leaving" thing, and I told myself that if I left again, I wasn't coming back. We had left him, and I commuted with the baby back and forth from Bk to the South Bronx. NOT fun. I was exhausted, and so tired, after 3 days I asked to return. (I should have known then that shit wouldn't last, right?)
I'm terrible with money. Mind you, I am a certified, (and yes, I have one of those bullshit certifications - well, several of them...LOL!) financial literacy trainer. So that makes it worse because I know what to do, but don't. Still, I am no fashionista, Gucci wearing broad, so my money is not on my back, and say what you want, not at anyone's expense, either.
Suffice to say that since I found out right after the holidays that C was seeing that bitch (she will ALWAYS be "that bitch" to me), I was pretty broke. I had just finished buying gifts for his family, and there is a trailer load (shout to Shabba Ranks) of them. Seriously.
He admits that he is fucking HER, and wants me to move. Wooow.... Ok... Except had no money. No savings. No rich uncle, no mom nearby... His dad and stepmom offered to let me stay, and ummm.... NOT! See, he had taken to insulting me because he knew I didn't have anything, and to go to his fam would have proved him entirely too right. I wanted, maybe even needed to go, but I was too proud.
Pride. Humph... At that time, my pride was taking the world's worst beating. EVERYBODY knew that he was seeing this chick. The same chick who friended me on myspace, commented on my pic with him saying how we looked great together, and the NEXT DAY sent him a message with the lyrics to that Fantasia song "When I see you". I had complained to C, and he said I ws insecure, that she was cool, took her word over mine.
Thinking about it right now makes me upset, but it's on my mind, so..... I continue with this flashback....
So now I gotta start looking for a crib. But first, I need more money. So I ask for more work the gig, and look for a place. After seeing about 25 apts., I find one I like. No - love. It was in the Bx, where I was willing to stay because I want my son to be close with his dad, and he is close to his dad's family. It was a long term sublet, and the renter was single mom who was moving to Florida. The building was clean, had an elevator (which was MUCH better than the 5 floor walkup I had been living in with C), and the space was large enough to give Sen'ari his room, and make a studio space out of the living room. The girl is charming, her kid is sweet, and I am popping my collar because I'm hoping that only 6 weeks after I found out officially that I was being played, I am moving on with my life.
Go me!
To add to the success story, she is willing to take the deposit in two parts. WOOOORD?!?!?!? Awwww...shit! I'm FLOATING down the street. Packing shit in my mind..Life is sooo good. My girls are like "wow, Eve". I'm looking for daycare, thinking about how short my commute will be. So I give ole girl a deposit of $800 to show I'm serious about moving, and soon. I'm selling jewelry to come up with the rest of the loot, and desperate enough to consider turning a trick (or 2), because when I say I needed to get OUT of C's crib...I ain't lyin.
And this bitch bounced with my loot.
Cause yeah: in my desperation I gave her cash. I trusted, stupidly. I sooo wanted this. I needed to move!
Can we say DEVASTATED?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!
Now I'm completely destroyed. I have no new crib, and life at the old crib is just crumbling, deteriorating faster than I can even take. AND I HAVE NO LOOT!!!!! I have to start from scratch. I'm heartbroken, and broken. Emotionally, and financially.
I contemplated suicide more than once.
While all this is going on, I am watching C leave on his days off, go to her house, and not return for the night. I had kinda become used to it, when one day Sen tells me that while I was at work, ole girl came over, and they were all watching Norbit. WOOOORD?!?!?!?!?!?
Later that evening I'm on the comp, and I see that his Gmail is open. Fuck it - Imma admit it - I read his email. and because Gmail saves the chats, I saw where he would share info I shared with him: "Eve is coming home soon, so don't come over today". I would frequently smell weed when I came home, and would assume the baby was down for a nap (C was always making sure Sen had a nap) while he got his smoke on. Ok...I wasn't crazy about it, but oh well...a man needs stress relief in his home, right?
Until I realized that SHE was coming over to smoke with him!! Oh, HELLS NAW! This after one day he told me about a threesome episode they had while I was putting on mascara in the bathroom. At the time I thought I could stomach it, and said "ok" when he asked if I wanted to hear about what happened. So, I heard about her sexing the neighbor, him sexing her, him watching her sex the neighbor while stroking his dick...yeah...I heard it all. I saw the responses to the ads on Craigslist, and I began to get disgusted. With him, and with myself.
Because I still loved his fucking disgusting, possibly disease ridden ass.
But one thing I don't fuck with is disease. Now, I'll admit - he and I had sex VERY VERY early on in our relatonship, and the first time was unprotected. I was in shock that we had been so irresponsible, and right away, we had a battery of tests done, and shared them with each other. One of our early dates was to Duane Reade to get a whole bunch of birth control. In my stupid ass mind, I assumed that I was different. Because to me, he was. I thought I was special, that he didn't usually operate that way, that he would use a condom with ole girl.
Until he admitted that he didn't.
WOOOOORD?!?!?!?!?!?!
Ok, ummm....well... WOOOORD?!?!??!?!?!?
So operation "Eve get the fuck out" began again. In earnest. I had to save myself! So, I started stacking what little chips I could again, and resumed looking. At the end of March, I saw a nice crib in Harlem that I really liked. High ceilings, and an interesting neighborhood. I gave a deposit and got the keys.
A few days later, the check I gave the prospective landlord bounced.
On April 11th, the day after my bday, I gave him the money in cash. This time, I had the keys, and had already bounced a check, so I took a chance.
On April 19th, after telling C that I was moving the next day, I found movers on Craigslist who came and took most of our shit while he was at HER house. He came back to an emptier crib (I was nice and left a lot of stuff), the bed frame but no bed (LOL!), and no Sen'ari...no Eve.
I should have left the bed.
To this day, I have yet to sleep on it. It represents failure to me, broken promises, and truth be told, I really don't know what happened on it. But, I can't afford to replace it right now, and it's good to have for when company comes over.
So, now Sen and I are in a new space, making it do what it do.
In the process...Eve-o-lution.
Yeah, that is my attempt at being fair to him. I have to see him waaay more that is comfortable, and I work REALLY hard at being chill. Sometimes, though, like today - he gets me so fucking worked up....OOOH!
I don't know why I'm thinking about our recent past, but I am... So here's more of my herstory....
When he asked/demanded that I move, I was so shocked and broke I didn't know what to do. I felt like I had no one. I lived/worked in the Bx, and my closest advocate lived in Bk. We had done this before, the whole "get out/i'm leaving" thing, and I told myself that if I left again, I wasn't coming back. We had left him, and I commuted with the baby back and forth from Bk to the South Bronx. NOT fun. I was exhausted, and so tired, after 3 days I asked to return. (I should have known then that shit wouldn't last, right?)
I'm terrible with money. Mind you, I am a certified, (and yes, I have one of those bullshit certifications - well, several of them...LOL!) financial literacy trainer. So that makes it worse because I know what to do, but don't. Still, I am no fashionista, Gucci wearing broad, so my money is not on my back, and say what you want, not at anyone's expense, either.
Suffice to say that since I found out right after the holidays that C was seeing that bitch (she will ALWAYS be "that bitch" to me), I was pretty broke. I had just finished buying gifts for his family, and there is a trailer load (shout to Shabba Ranks) of them. Seriously.
He admits that he is fucking HER, and wants me to move. Wooow.... Ok... Except had no money. No savings. No rich uncle, no mom nearby... His dad and stepmom offered to let me stay, and ummm.... NOT! See, he had taken to insulting me because he knew I didn't have anything, and to go to his fam would have proved him entirely too right. I wanted, maybe even needed to go, but I was too proud.
Pride. Humph... At that time, my pride was taking the world's worst beating. EVERYBODY knew that he was seeing this chick. The same chick who friended me on myspace, commented on my pic with him saying how we looked great together, and the NEXT DAY sent him a message with the lyrics to that Fantasia song "When I see you". I had complained to C, and he said I ws insecure, that she was cool, took her word over mine.
Thinking about it right now makes me upset, but it's on my mind, so..... I continue with this flashback....
So now I gotta start looking for a crib. But first, I need more money. So I ask for more work the gig, and look for a place. After seeing about 25 apts., I find one I like. No - love. It was in the Bx, where I was willing to stay because I want my son to be close with his dad, and he is close to his dad's family. It was a long term sublet, and the renter was single mom who was moving to Florida. The building was clean, had an elevator (which was MUCH better than the 5 floor walkup I had been living in with C), and the space was large enough to give Sen'ari his room, and make a studio space out of the living room. The girl is charming, her kid is sweet, and I am popping my collar because I'm hoping that only 6 weeks after I found out officially that I was being played, I am moving on with my life.
Go me!
To add to the success story, she is willing to take the deposit in two parts. WOOOORD?!?!?!? Awwww...shit! I'm FLOATING down the street. Packing shit in my mind..Life is sooo good. My girls are like "wow, Eve". I'm looking for daycare, thinking about how short my commute will be. So I give ole girl a deposit of $800 to show I'm serious about moving, and soon. I'm selling jewelry to come up with the rest of the loot, and desperate enough to consider turning a trick (or 2), because when I say I needed to get OUT of C's crib...I ain't lyin.
And this bitch bounced with my loot.
Cause yeah: in my desperation I gave her cash. I trusted, stupidly. I sooo wanted this. I needed to move!
Can we say DEVASTATED?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!
Now I'm completely destroyed. I have no new crib, and life at the old crib is just crumbling, deteriorating faster than I can even take. AND I HAVE NO LOOT!!!!! I have to start from scratch. I'm heartbroken, and broken. Emotionally, and financially.
I contemplated suicide more than once.
While all this is going on, I am watching C leave on his days off, go to her house, and not return for the night. I had kinda become used to it, when one day Sen tells me that while I was at work, ole girl came over, and they were all watching Norbit. WOOOORD?!?!?!?!?!?
Later that evening I'm on the comp, and I see that his Gmail is open. Fuck it - Imma admit it - I read his email. and because Gmail saves the chats, I saw where he would share info I shared with him: "Eve is coming home soon, so don't come over today". I would frequently smell weed when I came home, and would assume the baby was down for a nap (C was always making sure Sen had a nap) while he got his smoke on. Ok...I wasn't crazy about it, but oh well...a man needs stress relief in his home, right?
Until I realized that SHE was coming over to smoke with him!! Oh, HELLS NAW! This after one day he told me about a threesome episode they had while I was putting on mascara in the bathroom. At the time I thought I could stomach it, and said "ok" when he asked if I wanted to hear about what happened. So, I heard about her sexing the neighbor, him sexing her, him watching her sex the neighbor while stroking his dick...yeah...I heard it all. I saw the responses to the ads on Craigslist, and I began to get disgusted. With him, and with myself.
Because I still loved his fucking disgusting, possibly disease ridden ass.
But one thing I don't fuck with is disease. Now, I'll admit - he and I had sex VERY VERY early on in our relatonship, and the first time was unprotected. I was in shock that we had been so irresponsible, and right away, we had a battery of tests done, and shared them with each other. One of our early dates was to Duane Reade to get a whole bunch of birth control. In my stupid ass mind, I assumed that I was different. Because to me, he was. I thought I was special, that he didn't usually operate that way, that he would use a condom with ole girl.
Until he admitted that he didn't.
WOOOOORD?!?!?!?!?!?!
Ok, ummm....well... WOOOORD?!?!??!?!?!?
So operation "Eve get the fuck out" began again. In earnest. I had to save myself! So, I started stacking what little chips I could again, and resumed looking. At the end of March, I saw a nice crib in Harlem that I really liked. High ceilings, and an interesting neighborhood. I gave a deposit and got the keys.
A few days later, the check I gave the prospective landlord bounced.
On April 11th, the day after my bday, I gave him the money in cash. This time, I had the keys, and had already bounced a check, so I took a chance.
On April 19th, after telling C that I was moving the next day, I found movers on Craigslist who came and took most of our shit while he was at HER house. He came back to an emptier crib (I was nice and left a lot of stuff), the bed frame but no bed (LOL!), and no Sen'ari...no Eve.
I should have left the bed.
To this day, I have yet to sleep on it. It represents failure to me, broken promises, and truth be told, I really don't know what happened on it. But, I can't afford to replace it right now, and it's good to have for when company comes over.
So, now Sen and I are in a new space, making it do what it do.
In the process...Eve-o-lution.
After the decision to bounce was made....
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Esta Vida Loca!
So, I have been crying, sleepless, tired, experienced a loss of appetite, and experienced my appetite returning (PMS is a BITCH!). I have come to grips with the fact that my baby daddy has a new chick, that I am still in love with him, and that they are seeking a third party for threesomes. I confronted BD about this, and he had the audacity to ask me if I wanted to join them.Ummm....Seriously?????WTF?!?!??!?!!?!?!?
I have learned some life lessons, and as I discover them, I will be sharing, so here goes.
1. Life will show you just how far you can go on "E".
You know how you learn your car can go 13.7 miles on "E"? By using all your gas and being stuck. If you are one of those people who will never discover that, awesome. For the rest of us, adversity lets us know just how much we can deal with. In the last month, I have cried myself to sleep more times than I can count. I have seen the sun rise and set repeatedly without catching a wink of sleep, and have allowed days to go by without eating a thing. This from a woman who used to pride herself on "never missing sleep, a meal, or crying over a man".
Riiiight....I have learned. There were days that the pain would literally collapse me and I would break out in sobs from the hurt, the pain, embarrasment, failure, all around devastation of this situation.
2. First you deal, then you heal (especially when you have kids)
If you are like me, you cannot begin to heal being right up on the person that caused you pain. You are consumed with them, what they are doing, where they are, what you are doing, why you are where you are while they are where they are. No good for anyone. You gotta DEAL, first. Assess the situation like, WTF do I NEED to do? When it seems too hard to get up and floss because no one will be there to admire your pearly whites (or not so pearly whites, in my case), that is when you need to get your ass up and floss the MOST.
When all you wanna do is lay up in your bed, listen to Brian McKnight, and eat caramel cone ice cream, DO THAT. (Didn't think I would say that, did ya? Well, that is a form of healing!) Allow yourself a minute to deal with the immediate situation, give yourself a moment to wallow, then get right up outta that. Your kid(s) need you to be a stabilizing force for them, and you need to feel capable again. The trick is in not allowing this feeling to impact your entire life. Otherwise, your work will suffer, your other relationships will suffer, YOU will suffer.
Being dumped is a different kinda animal. It makes you feel inadequate, and the reason why someone is leaving you is that somehow, somewhere, you didn't meet their needs/wants. That realization hurts. LIKE HELL. It will make you doubt your capabilities, your looks, your attractiveness, who you are, what you bring to the table.
The goal is to not allow someone control what YOU think of yourself. I struggle with that right now, but I also know that when I ponder too long on what HE (not the man upstairs He, but my baby daddy HE) thinks, I am on a downward spiral. As my BFF told me the other night, it's almst as if I am blaming myself for his actions, and that is not fair to myself either. *deep sigh*
Life is hard right now, but I'm taking things one day at a time. It's all I can do. Hold on folks, it's gonna be a bumpy ride!
Esta Vida Loca!
So, I have been crying, sleepless, tired, experienced a loss of appetite, and experienced my appetite returning (PMS is a BITCH!). I have come to grips with the fact that my baby daddy has a new chick, that I am still in love with him, and that they are seeking a third party for threesomes. I confronted BD about this, and he had the audacity to ask me if I wanted to join them.Ummm....Seriously?????WTF?!?!??!?!!?!?!?
I have learned some life lessons, and as I discover them, I will be sharing, so here goes.
1. Life will show you just how far you can go on "E".
You know how you learn your car can go 13.7 miles on "E"? By using all your gas and being stuck. If you are one of those people who will never discover that, awesome. For the rest of us, adversity lets us know just how much we can deal with. In the last month, I have cried myself to sleep more times than I can count. I have seen the sun rise and set repeatedly without catching a wink of sleep, and have allowed days to go by without eating a thing. This from a woman who used to pride herself on "never missing sleep, a meal, or crying over a man".
Riiiight....I have learned. There were days that the pain would literally collapse me and I would break out in sobs from the hurt, the pain, embarrasment, failure, all around devastation of this situation.
2. First you deal, then you heal (especially when you have kids)
If you are like me, you cannot begin to heal being right up on the person that caused you pain. You are consumed with them, what they are doing, where they are, what you are doing, why you are where you are while they are where they are. No good for anyone. You gotta DEAL, first. Assess the situation like, WTF do I NEED to do? When it seems too hard to get up and floss because no one will be there to admire your pearly whites (or not so pearly whites, in my case), that is when you need to get your ass up and floss the MOST.
When all you wanna do is lay up in your bed, listen to Brian McKnight, and eat caramel cone ice cream, DO THAT. (Didn't think I would say that, did ya? Well, that is a form of healing!) Allow yourself a minute to deal with the immediate situation, give yourself a moment to wallow, then get right up outta that. Your kid(s) need you to be a stabilizing force for them, and you need to feel capable again. The trick is in not allowing this feeling to impact your entire life. Otherwise, your work will suffer, your other relationships will suffer, YOU will suffer.
Being dumped is a different kinda animal. It makes you feel inadequate, and the reason why someone is leaving you is that somehow, somewhere, you didn't meet their needs/wants. That realization hurts. LIKE HELL. It will make you doubt your capabilities, your looks, your attractiveness, who you are, what you bring to the table.
The goal is to not allow someone control what YOU think of yourself. I struggle with that right now, but I also know that when I ponder too long on what HE (not the man upstairs He, but my baby daddy HE) thinks, I am on a downward spiral. As my BFF told me the other night, it's almst as if I am blaming myself for his actions, and that is not fair to myself either. *deep sigh*
Life is hard right now, but I'm taking things one day at a time. It's all I can do. Hold on folks, it's gonna be a bumpy ride!
In the beginning....of 2008!
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
New Year, Same Isht...
As I sit back, relax, think a sec, drink a Becks (shout out to Biggie), I realize that ain't a damned thing changed in 4 months.
WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!
I had actually been avoiding reading my journal because I knew it would make me feel like shit. What I do know is that sometimes, you know the answer, and you are still powerless to answer the call.I know what I need to do. But I am afraid. There. I said it. I am afraid to be living on my own, afraid I will make the same mistakes I made before, afraid my son will hate me in 10 years, come to me with some "you made my dad leave us" shit.
The craziest part is that if I were listening to my story, I'd be all like "leave him, girl! You can do bad all by yourself."The relationship is at the point that my absence would not be noted. Seriously. Ole boy says he's stepping out for a bit at 4pm, and returns the next morning.
Months ago, we had an argument, and I told my son I was gonna get him a real daddy. Now, my baby daddy uses my words and says that he leaves because he hates that I said that and he can't get over it. He asks why I'm mad that he just leaves and doesn't call to ask about Sen until midnight, when he knows Sen will be asleep. *deep sigh*
Right now, I am underemployed and over extended. My fondest wish is to just fly away. Seriously. Just grab my son and leave everything else behind. I have nothing else of value. My confidence is so shot right now, I am in a state of shock at knowing I am a shell of my former self. This sounds like some crazy shit I heard a white chick say on Oprah, but it's true. I have Erykah Badu's "Green Eyes" on repeat right now. I have all this pent up emotion, and I am praying for help from God to channel it in a positive way. The way I feel right now, I either explode in anger or bust out crying if I think about this situation for too long, and I have all the time in the world .
I am determined to make this year different. I MUST get out of this funk and rediscover myself and my capabilities. I'm real lost right now, and the time has come to stop being pissy about the shit I cannot change, and DO SOMETHING about this fucked up life.
I will be writing more frequently now, just to get some things off my chest. I have to say - this is really therapeutic. It satisfies my inner exhibitionist (cause I'm letting folks know A LOT of my business), as well as being a safer release than breaking shit I can't afford to replace.
New Year, Same Isht...
As I sit back, relax, think a sec, drink a Becks (shout out to Biggie), I realize that ain't a damned thing changed in 4 months.
WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!
I had actually been avoiding reading my journal because I knew it would make me feel like shit. What I do know is that sometimes, you know the answer, and you are still powerless to answer the call.I know what I need to do. But I am afraid. There. I said it. I am afraid to be living on my own, afraid I will make the same mistakes I made before, afraid my son will hate me in 10 years, come to me with some "you made my dad leave us" shit.
The craziest part is that if I were listening to my story, I'd be all like "leave him, girl! You can do bad all by yourself."The relationship is at the point that my absence would not be noted. Seriously. Ole boy says he's stepping out for a bit at 4pm, and returns the next morning.
Months ago, we had an argument, and I told my son I was gonna get him a real daddy. Now, my baby daddy uses my words and says that he leaves because he hates that I said that and he can't get over it. He asks why I'm mad that he just leaves and doesn't call to ask about Sen until midnight, when he knows Sen will be asleep. *deep sigh*
Right now, I am underemployed and over extended. My fondest wish is to just fly away. Seriously. Just grab my son and leave everything else behind. I have nothing else of value. My confidence is so shot right now, I am in a state of shock at knowing I am a shell of my former self. This sounds like some crazy shit I heard a white chick say on Oprah, but it's true. I have Erykah Badu's "Green Eyes" on repeat right now. I have all this pent up emotion, and I am praying for help from God to channel it in a positive way. The way I feel right now, I either explode in anger or bust out crying if I think about this situation for too long, and I have all the time in the world .
I am determined to make this year different. I MUST get out of this funk and rediscover myself and my capabilities. I'm real lost right now, and the time has come to stop being pissy about the shit I cannot change, and DO SOMETHING about this fucked up life.
I will be writing more frequently now, just to get some things off my chest. I have to say - this is really therapeutic. It satisfies my inner exhibitionist (cause I'm letting folks know A LOT of my business), as well as being a safer release than breaking shit I can't afford to replace.
A year ago.....
I can't sleep.
I need to express myself right now, need to get some shit outta me, and since there is no one to talk to at 6:46am, I express the pain, the confusion, the rage, the hurt.Back in the day, I would write about how I would sweat out his scent, the cologne mixed with weed, mixed with the sex we just had. I would tell the paper all about how I would sweat on the train and his scent would flow from my pores, and how it was all I could do to not get back on the train and into his arms. It was a release then. I need release now. C is seeing someone else. Otra occupa mi lugar. Voy a rifar mi corazon. (another takes my place. I will sell my heart)
When I was a little girl, my sister had this on the wall. I never understood what it meant, never thought I would want to sell my heart, no matter what. Until now. I have moments where I am really rational. I understand that every situation has a winner and a loser, and in this one, I have a big ole "L" on my forehead. I remind myself to be grateful for him, for without him there is no Sen'ari, and what would I be without my boy?
The question is: WHERE THE FUCK AM I NOW?????
I feel like I'm floating from emotion to emotion with no understanding of how I got anywhere. I don't know SHIT right now, I find myself double and triple guessing myslef, feeling as if everything I do is wrong and not knowing where to turn. I miss my mami.I wish I had a place to go where I could grab my son and run and hide, get my mind right. But I don't. I have his 4 walls in his apt. I think about him while I walk his dog, wonder where the fuck he is while I'm stuck caring for it, looking for a job on his computer, watching his TV on his cable. (At least I pay the bill) I am suffocated by his energy, his presence. I wish I would have known how much my desire to be with him would cloud my judgement. What would I do differently?So many questions.
From the ones I don't REALLY wanna know the answer to, like "where were you last night?" to the ones I need answer for myself like "what MORE does he need to tell you to get it through your THICK skull that he don't want you, stupid?!?!?!?!" I have made my decision, and while it's the one right thing I've done, it's the one thing I want to be so wrong about.
I want him to get on his knee and propose.
I want him to say I am his sunshine, his air.
I want him to want to be my man forever, and protect us, and be like Bob Marley sang in "Is this Love": I want the shelter of his single bed.
I want him to say my arms, my breasts, my lips are where he finds solace in this cruel world, and turn to me for comfort.
I want him to want me and only me.
I want to have more of his babies.
But he doesn't want me. He says he has no piece of mind with me, that I have changed for the worse in the duration of the relationship. He says SHE ain't full of shit like SOME PEOPLE. Makes me feel like shit. Makes me want to run and hide in a corner and lick my wounds and cry. Makes me feel fat and stupid, and ugly and useless. And lonely. I'm fighting so hard against succumbing to the numbing depression that comes with breaking up with someone. I'm waiting on anger.
The anger that gets you so riled up you wanna fuck a nigga up, key his car, break shit. The past 4 years have been a waiting game. I waited to fall in love, to have my son, to receive the proposal that never came. Now, I need to make the moves that will lead to my peace of mind, and I'm so scared. I need to be strong, I know, but the strength is not coming like I thought it would.
I sit here, and I wait.
I need to express myself right now, need to get some shit outta me, and since there is no one to talk to at 6:46am, I express the pain, the confusion, the rage, the hurt.Back in the day, I would write about how I would sweat out his scent, the cologne mixed with weed, mixed with the sex we just had. I would tell the paper all about how I would sweat on the train and his scent would flow from my pores, and how it was all I could do to not get back on the train and into his arms. It was a release then. I need release now. C is seeing someone else. Otra occupa mi lugar. Voy a rifar mi corazon. (another takes my place. I will sell my heart)
When I was a little girl, my sister had this on the wall. I never understood what it meant, never thought I would want to sell my heart, no matter what. Until now. I have moments where I am really rational. I understand that every situation has a winner and a loser, and in this one, I have a big ole "L" on my forehead. I remind myself to be grateful for him, for without him there is no Sen'ari, and what would I be without my boy?
The question is: WHERE THE FUCK AM I NOW?????
I feel like I'm floating from emotion to emotion with no understanding of how I got anywhere. I don't know SHIT right now, I find myself double and triple guessing myslef, feeling as if everything I do is wrong and not knowing where to turn. I miss my mami.I wish I had a place to go where I could grab my son and run and hide, get my mind right. But I don't. I have his 4 walls in his apt. I think about him while I walk his dog, wonder where the fuck he is while I'm stuck caring for it, looking for a job on his computer, watching his TV on his cable. (At least I pay the bill) I am suffocated by his energy, his presence. I wish I would have known how much my desire to be with him would cloud my judgement. What would I do differently?So many questions.
From the ones I don't REALLY wanna know the answer to, like "where were you last night?" to the ones I need answer for myself like "what MORE does he need to tell you to get it through your THICK skull that he don't want you, stupid?!?!?!?!" I have made my decision, and while it's the one right thing I've done, it's the one thing I want to be so wrong about.
I want him to get on his knee and propose.
I want him to say I am his sunshine, his air.
I want him to want to be my man forever, and protect us, and be like Bob Marley sang in "Is this Love": I want the shelter of his single bed.
I want him to say my arms, my breasts, my lips are where he finds solace in this cruel world, and turn to me for comfort.
I want him to want me and only me.
I want to have more of his babies.
But he doesn't want me. He says he has no piece of mind with me, that I have changed for the worse in the duration of the relationship. He says SHE ain't full of shit like SOME PEOPLE. Makes me feel like shit. Makes me want to run and hide in a corner and lick my wounds and cry. Makes me feel fat and stupid, and ugly and useless. And lonely. I'm fighting so hard against succumbing to the numbing depression that comes with breaking up with someone. I'm waiting on anger.
The anger that gets you so riled up you wanna fuck a nigga up, key his car, break shit. The past 4 years have been a waiting game. I waited to fall in love, to have my son, to receive the proposal that never came. Now, I need to make the moves that will lead to my peace of mind, and I'm so scared. I need to be strong, I know, but the strength is not coming like I thought it would.
I sit here, and I wait.
It's been a long time, I shouldn't have left you....
But I did.
It all started when my broke ass lost my internet connection because I didn't pay the full bill. Yeah...shit is real out here. I paid enough to make sure my son had Noggin available at all times, but not enough to ensure I had internet access. So, I had to rely on the generosity (or ignorance) of my neighbors and their wireless, to my own frustration because the connection sucked, and that of the roomie, who is a techie, and who is paying for internet access as part of the rent.
For weeks I relied on Dominique, and Jahaysha, and the other wireless networks around the way to be able to check my email. I tried a few times to post, but each time I lost the connection, and started writing in books, on receipts, or whatever, and didn't even check in. No one reads anyway, right?
That's wrong, though. I ain't doing this for anyone else. I started it for my own sanity, to feel purged, to have a release for some of the feelings that threaten to constantly overwhelm me.
So, in the last few weeks I paid Time Warner for the right to email without depending on the neighbors, and have written 30 something entries in my paper journal, but I have been too lazy to type them out. Random thoughts or things that occured to me in Duane Reade, walking down Broadway, on the LIRR...
Still, this is the time of year that I reflect on what was, and what will be, so the next few posts will be old entries. You gotta go back to move forward sometimes....
It all started when my broke ass lost my internet connection because I didn't pay the full bill. Yeah...shit is real out here. I paid enough to make sure my son had Noggin available at all times, but not enough to ensure I had internet access. So, I had to rely on the generosity (or ignorance) of my neighbors and their wireless, to my own frustration because the connection sucked, and that of the roomie, who is a techie, and who is paying for internet access as part of the rent.
For weeks I relied on Dominique, and Jahaysha, and the other wireless networks around the way to be able to check my email. I tried a few times to post, but each time I lost the connection, and started writing in books, on receipts, or whatever, and didn't even check in. No one reads anyway, right?
That's wrong, though. I ain't doing this for anyone else. I started it for my own sanity, to feel purged, to have a release for some of the feelings that threaten to constantly overwhelm me.
So, in the last few weeks I paid Time Warner for the right to email without depending on the neighbors, and have written 30 something entries in my paper journal, but I have been too lazy to type them out. Random thoughts or things that occured to me in Duane Reade, walking down Broadway, on the LIRR...
Still, this is the time of year that I reflect on what was, and what will be, so the next few posts will be old entries. You gotta go back to move forward sometimes....
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Be careful what you ask for....
So...For those that know me, they know that I am frequently referred to as "Tommy", as in the character from MARTIN who "didn't have no job...". I like doing work that requires a lot of effort for a little bit of time. I like starting new programs, and being able to to move on once a program is established.
Being still is hard for me.
I like energy, making plans and seeing how they work... I love newness.
As a result, I haven't had one full-time job in years (have had 2 or 3 p/t and consultant gigs and stayed busy, but not 1). At least not one that required me to sit somewhere for the day, looking @ the computer screen... and I was jealous of folks who had that.
With all the isht going on in my life, I wanted a job that would not require me to think of anything new. I want systems in place, I want to log in and start doing what I need to do for the day, I want to pick up my tote at 5pm, say bye to the person in the next cube, and go pick up my son.
Or so I thought.
I am doing a temp project at a hospital, and fortunately AND unfortunately for me, my supervisor doesn't know I'm alive. My responsibilities seem to have been passed to her subordiante, who also doesn't know I'm alive. So, right now, instead of dulling my very tight nerves with data entry, I am more in tuned with what is going on in my personal life, because I have no distraction (now that I have said this, I know that once they "get" me, it will be a wrap).
Reminds me of that famous saying: be careful what you wish for...
The last time I got what I wished for, I ended up with BD. At the time, I used to love the series Soul Food, and was in love with Lem, THE CHARACTER. I specify this because when I say Lem, SOMEBODY always comes with "but he's gay!" As if I can't love gay men, but I digress...
Lem represented Black male strength for me at that time. He loved his wife and family and went hard for them, he was the dude Jill Scott was talking about when she said " you put your good foot down to make your soul the winner" in A Long Walk. (and YES, I quote Jill frequently because I FEEL her and her words...sometimes I feel like we think alike...) I watched that show and I wanted a Lem. A dude who wasn't perfect, but aimed for perfection. A man whose errors were almost cool because you could see they were made with the best interests of loved ones at heart.
Enter BD.
He was all that, PLUS I knew him from high school (at that point I thought there was safety in history. Now I know better). We used to talk, and share our lives, and for a while, he made me feel like I was the only woman alive. Like I was the most important person in his world. He loved me, I loved him, life was good. Fuck that...great.
Then the tide turned somehow, and we never did get it back to that special place where everything was bearable because we were together. At one point, we had the kind of love that isolates you from the storm, that makes you look forward to the "shelter of the single bed" Bob Marley talked about in "Is this Love?"
In order to not go crazy, to not question so many of the moments we shared, to stop crying myself to sleep, shiiit....to sleep period, I have to remind myself that you really DO have to be careful what you wish for. I wished for love and a lover, and got it. Did it last? Clearly not. However, it lives on in some capacity when I look in my son's eyes.
I was careful about what I asked for. In return, I received so much more. I got my son, and life experience. Despite all the drama, I'm grateful to BD for giving me the experience. For being my partner in growth and change. For my boy. For teaching me more about life and love and loss than I ever expected to know. I know now that asking for something also means being prepared to get more than what you asked for.
They done seen me now.... I have data to enter...;0)
Being still is hard for me.
I like energy, making plans and seeing how they work... I love newness.
As a result, I haven't had one full-time job in years (have had 2 or 3 p/t and consultant gigs and stayed busy, but not 1). At least not one that required me to sit somewhere for the day, looking @ the computer screen... and I was jealous of folks who had that.
With all the isht going on in my life, I wanted a job that would not require me to think of anything new. I want systems in place, I want to log in and start doing what I need to do for the day, I want to pick up my tote at 5pm, say bye to the person in the next cube, and go pick up my son.
Or so I thought.
I am doing a temp project at a hospital, and fortunately AND unfortunately for me, my supervisor doesn't know I'm alive. My responsibilities seem to have been passed to her subordiante, who also doesn't know I'm alive. So, right now, instead of dulling my very tight nerves with data entry, I am more in tuned with what is going on in my personal life, because I have no distraction (now that I have said this, I know that once they "get" me, it will be a wrap).
Reminds me of that famous saying: be careful what you wish for...
The last time I got what I wished for, I ended up with BD. At the time, I used to love the series Soul Food, and was in love with Lem, THE CHARACTER. I specify this because when I say Lem, SOMEBODY always comes with "but he's gay!" As if I can't love gay men, but I digress...
Lem represented Black male strength for me at that time. He loved his wife and family and went hard for them, he was the dude Jill Scott was talking about when she said " you put your good foot down to make your soul the winner" in A Long Walk. (and YES, I quote Jill frequently because I FEEL her and her words...sometimes I feel like we think alike...) I watched that show and I wanted a Lem. A dude who wasn't perfect, but aimed for perfection. A man whose errors were almost cool because you could see they were made with the best interests of loved ones at heart.
Enter BD.
He was all that, PLUS I knew him from high school (at that point I thought there was safety in history. Now I know better). We used to talk, and share our lives, and for a while, he made me feel like I was the only woman alive. Like I was the most important person in his world. He loved me, I loved him, life was good. Fuck that...great.
Then the tide turned somehow, and we never did get it back to that special place where everything was bearable because we were together. At one point, we had the kind of love that isolates you from the storm, that makes you look forward to the "shelter of the single bed" Bob Marley talked about in "Is this Love?"
In order to not go crazy, to not question so many of the moments we shared, to stop crying myself to sleep, shiiit....to sleep period, I have to remind myself that you really DO have to be careful what you wish for. I wished for love and a lover, and got it. Did it last? Clearly not. However, it lives on in some capacity when I look in my son's eyes.
I was careful about what I asked for. In return, I received so much more. I got my son, and life experience. Despite all the drama, I'm grateful to BD for giving me the experience. For being my partner in growth and change. For my boy. For teaching me more about life and love and loss than I ever expected to know. I know now that asking for something also means being prepared to get more than what you asked for.
They done seen me now.... I have data to enter...;0)
Monday, September 8, 2008
My baby is BAAAACK!!!!!
My baby is back. I missed him. He is the apple of my eye, the center of my universe. I am awed and inspired by him. He is the funniest person I know, and in three short years, has led me to feel more emotions than I ever knew possible. He is, quite simply, the best thing that ever happened to me.
And his dad is tryna fuck up our flow.
Nine months ago, his dad told me he was seeing another woman, and devastated me. I had no money, no where to go. He told me he wanted me to leave, called me everything but a child of God, and after 3 months of humiliation, self pity, and being played, I found a spot to move with my son. I found a roomie on Craigslist to help with the rent, and somehow, through the grace of God and awesome friends (there is a place for you in heaven, Nake...believe me), things clicked.
I never filed for child support or custody, because I thought we were above that. I thought we could be a couple whose relationship could rise about that. I guess it was too much to ask for a man who told me his side chick wasn't full of shit "like some people" to treat me with respect.
I fucking tried to get along with him. I really did.
Looked the other way when he would roll up and criticize what we do HERE. Said nothing when he came here and caused a scene. Didn't do shit while he lived his life. He got it all - apt., he didn't have to move, the dog (ok - I didn't want the dog), football when he wanted, new chick....
But I had our boy. Who I still shared freely because I believe that children should not be victims of their parent's decisions.
I said no once - to football camp. A four day trip to a place he couldn't tell me where it was, when my baby was coming off a bad cold (which he got at football practice), and she was gonna be there. I know that's not cool, but I was not about to allow my baby to go get sick in nobody's woods, with HER. THAT BITCH. (cause I haven't forgotten your punk ass, bitch,and karma is gon' visit your ugly ass soon)
So, this weekend baby daddy (BD) takes Sen. On Friday morning, I leave them here because I have to get to work by 9. He dresses Sen, takes him to daycare, picks him up. Said he might drop him off Friday night, never called or came. Ok, no beef. Saturday comes, he calls me when he is supposed to bring Sen back, and says that he wants Sen to spend the night @ his mom's because there is a game on Sunday at 10am, and the game is right by his mom's house, so it's convenient, and Sen can go to the game. Ok, no problem. He says he will bring Sen on Sunday.
Sunday, by 2pm, I'm wondering where the fuck my son is. I call, and BD is now saying that he wants to keep Sen another night. Ummm...no. Bring my son back. Instead of arguing, I tell him I will call him later in the afternoon, after they visit with his mom. I leave to pay the rent,and when I get downtown, BD calls me. Starts this convo by asking me why Sen has a bruise on his shoulder. (He does????) Says that Sen said I hit him. He did?!?! On his shoulder? Now don't get me wrong - I spank. ALWAYS on the butt/legs. Even crazier than that is the fact that you have had Sen since Friday morning, and this is JUST NOW coming up?
Seriously?
So, I'm in Starbucks, waiting for the landlord, trying HARD not to raise my voice, while his trick ass is yelling at me, talking about how he is tired of having t ask me to see Sen, and how he is keeping him for another night. WTF?!?!?!
THEN, he tells me he will see me in court, and hangs up.
This morning, I am in a meeting, and the phone rings. I see it's BD, and excuse myself, but the reception is bad in the bldg. I call back an hour later, and he's like "it's too late". Ummm...for what?!?!? I'm thinking something happened to my boy. This fucker is gonna tell me that he went to court and filed for custody of my boy, and that his cal to me was his last effort to come to an agreement. It wasn't even an hour later I called him back. Again, this man has devastated me, but this time, I ain't taking this shit with all the tears and fear from before. Fuck that. This is the one thing I have worth fighting for, so if a fight he wants, a fight he will get.
And his dad is tryna fuck up our flow.
Nine months ago, his dad told me he was seeing another woman, and devastated me. I had no money, no where to go. He told me he wanted me to leave, called me everything but a child of God, and after 3 months of humiliation, self pity, and being played, I found a spot to move with my son. I found a roomie on Craigslist to help with the rent, and somehow, through the grace of God and awesome friends (there is a place for you in heaven, Nake...believe me), things clicked.
I never filed for child support or custody, because I thought we were above that. I thought we could be a couple whose relationship could rise about that. I guess it was too much to ask for a man who told me his side chick wasn't full of shit "like some people" to treat me with respect.
I fucking tried to get along with him. I really did.
Looked the other way when he would roll up and criticize what we do HERE. Said nothing when he came here and caused a scene. Didn't do shit while he lived his life. He got it all - apt., he didn't have to move, the dog (ok - I didn't want the dog), football when he wanted, new chick....
But I had our boy. Who I still shared freely because I believe that children should not be victims of their parent's decisions.
I said no once - to football camp. A four day trip to a place he couldn't tell me where it was, when my baby was coming off a bad cold (which he got at football practice), and she was gonna be there. I know that's not cool, but I was not about to allow my baby to go get sick in nobody's woods, with HER. THAT BITCH. (cause I haven't forgotten your punk ass, bitch,and karma is gon' visit your ugly ass soon)
So, this weekend baby daddy (BD) takes Sen. On Friday morning, I leave them here because I have to get to work by 9. He dresses Sen, takes him to daycare, picks him up. Said he might drop him off Friday night, never called or came. Ok, no beef. Saturday comes, he calls me when he is supposed to bring Sen back, and says that he wants Sen to spend the night @ his mom's because there is a game on Sunday at 10am, and the game is right by his mom's house, so it's convenient, and Sen can go to the game. Ok, no problem. He says he will bring Sen on Sunday.
Sunday, by 2pm, I'm wondering where the fuck my son is. I call, and BD is now saying that he wants to keep Sen another night. Ummm...no. Bring my son back. Instead of arguing, I tell him I will call him later in the afternoon, after they visit with his mom. I leave to pay the rent,and when I get downtown, BD calls me. Starts this convo by asking me why Sen has a bruise on his shoulder. (He does????) Says that Sen said I hit him. He did?!?! On his shoulder? Now don't get me wrong - I spank. ALWAYS on the butt/legs. Even crazier than that is the fact that you have had Sen since Friday morning, and this is JUST NOW coming up?
Seriously?
So, I'm in Starbucks, waiting for the landlord, trying HARD not to raise my voice, while his trick ass is yelling at me, talking about how he is tired of having t ask me to see Sen, and how he is keeping him for another night. WTF?!?!?!
THEN, he tells me he will see me in court, and hangs up.
This morning, I am in a meeting, and the phone rings. I see it's BD, and excuse myself, but the reception is bad in the bldg. I call back an hour later, and he's like "it's too late". Ummm...for what?!?!? I'm thinking something happened to my boy. This fucker is gonna tell me that he went to court and filed for custody of my boy, and that his cal to me was his last effort to come to an agreement. It wasn't even an hour later I called him back. Again, this man has devastated me, but this time, I ain't taking this shit with all the tears and fear from before. Fuck that. This is the one thing I have worth fighting for, so if a fight he wants, a fight he will get.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Sex...on my mind...all the time....
Ok, I'm back, but I need to table the sex convo for a minute. I have some new shit to get off my damned mind....
I fell off again....
I know, I know.
Clearly, that is fault number 3478. Like mi mami says "pongo el sombrero donde no alcanso". Meaning, I stay biting off more than I can chew. I REALLY thought the 30 blog posts in 30 days was gonna be a possbility, but I need to wake up and smell the cappucino - ok, Cafe Bustelo, given where I live and who I am - this is a LOT.
Still, while I am off frontin on writing, I am somewhere living. I REALLY want to say living life like it's golden, but ummm..... not so much.
I had an interview yesterday. In Queens. Went ok, but the woman who would be my supervisor scared me, and I felt like "tread carefully, E."Something about her made me feel as if our relationship would either be great or REALLY bad. Hmm... Let's see if they cal me back....
Sen'ari was picked up by his dad, and they went to the movies. Should I be annoyed that his dad can't seem to do anything with JUST Sen, except take him to daycare? Each time he takes him, they end up at the mobvies with the new chick and her son. That really bothers me.
Still, this is the fearless act: I am accepting of it (really I am), and don't say anything to him about it. Each time it stings a bit less.
Yes, it hurts like hell, but I know I am not the only woman who has experienced this kind of pain, and each day, I marvel that I'm still standing, so....
Lemme deal with this shit, and move on. And pay the rent. No matter what, that has to happen.
Clearly, that is fault number 3478. Like mi mami says "pongo el sombrero donde no alcanso". Meaning, I stay biting off more than I can chew. I REALLY thought the 30 blog posts in 30 days was gonna be a possbility, but I need to wake up and smell the cappucino - ok, Cafe Bustelo, given where I live and who I am - this is a LOT.
Still, while I am off frontin on writing, I am somewhere living. I REALLY want to say living life like it's golden, but ummm..... not so much.
I had an interview yesterday. In Queens. Went ok, but the woman who would be my supervisor scared me, and I felt like "tread carefully, E."Something about her made me feel as if our relationship would either be great or REALLY bad. Hmm... Let's see if they cal me back....
Sen'ari was picked up by his dad, and they went to the movies. Should I be annoyed that his dad can't seem to do anything with JUST Sen, except take him to daycare? Each time he takes him, they end up at the mobvies with the new chick and her son. That really bothers me.
Still, this is the fearless act: I am accepting of it (really I am), and don't say anything to him about it. Each time it stings a bit less.
Yes, it hurts like hell, but I know I am not the only woman who has experienced this kind of pain, and each day, I marvel that I'm still standing, so....
Lemme deal with this shit, and move on. And pay the rent. No matter what, that has to happen.
Monday, September 1, 2008
What about your FRIENDS?!?!?! (Pt.1)
Ok, I know. I was supposed to be blogging 30 times and 30 days, and I fucked up. I missed not 1, but 2 days!
WTF?!?!?!
On a positive note, my baby is back (he spent the weekend @ Grandpa's), and I was out doing stuff so I could have shit to talk about.
On Saturday, Nake invited me to a dinner her aunt Diane was hosting at this spot called Churrasceria Plataforma. I got there, in my .99cent flip flops,and immediately felt like a loser. I should have at least changed into my $10 flats. (you ever have that feeling?) Still, I plowed on, was led to that table, (and a group of 14!), and after watching folks in awe, proceeded to have enough meat to feed Woodside, Queens. (don't know why I chose Woodside, but I ate a lot - do you get THAT?!?!?)
So, after Nake texts me that she got me on the meal (GOOD LOOKIN', NAKE!!!), cause I don't know WTF is going on up in here, and neither did she, I stop saying no to the waiters who keep coming up and asking me if I want to try a piece of flank steak, or some sausage, and start to EAT. Alls I can say is thank goodness I did not wear my girdle or any restrictive stuff, cause lawd have mercy! I felt my arteries clogging as I ate, and was like "fuck living long..I'm eating, bitches!" I should have enjoyed the meal more, because then...
the bill came.
Shit was 1345 dollars. And some cents.
I'm sure some folks will be like "that's all?" Not me. That is rent.
So after the bill is paid, with more "that's my mortgage, son!" type comments, Nake and I bid adieu to the group, and we go downtown to meet with Shandalu, my roomie at Temple University. Shanda and her Bff, Poo, are in the city to hang out, and as I haven't seen Shan in a few years, I am excited.
We meet up with her at a bar near the Hotel Gaansevort, and she is with Poo, and two white chicks, R and E. R is an old friend of theirs, and E is a friend of R's. I won't bore with all the details, but suffice to say Nake and I were entertained by the antics of Shan and her girls, and really made me think about the friendships I have vs. the friendships other folks have.
My friends WIN! All the time, hands down!
Afterward, Nake and I were discussing the fact that we would not be Natalie Holloway-ed (google it), because we don't do that. Never have, after 15 years of going to the club together, have I EVER left my girls to leave with some dude, ESPECIALLY one I just met. Maybe my man, and he would take my girls home too. Seems to me that all squads don't have the same rules.
Gave me lots of food for thought, and for say, the 1millionth time, made me reflect on how blessed I am to have friends who have my back. (even when I am extra crazy, which is often)
Sunday, I go to a friend's bbq. This is the "punk ass" friend I referred to in an earlier post. The one who hurt my feelings. Clearly, we made up...kinda. I'm still kind of annoyed, but missing talking to him more than being annoyed at this point.
Nake, G ,big booty T, and I went to the bbq. On the way there,I started getting MAJOR cramps. Uh-oh...Please don't come, period. I am usually glad to see it (a sista is irregular), but I did not want it to put a damper on my fun, so I was hoping the cramps were the calm before the storm.
On the way, drinking mojitos and talking shit, I started to feel a bit worried. I was so busy being annoyed with my boy that it hadn't occured to me that he could be annoyed with me for being annoyed with him. What is he acted stank? It WAS a possibility.
(insert fearless act here: I STILL went, even though I was nervous about how he would react)
Luckily, he didn't.
Gave me a big hug, and I felt welcome. Chatted with some of his boys, one of whom is attracted to Nake, (even though he said nothing to her), and one who I just met, but who I liked (he seemed nice), and he was ca-yute! LOL!
After a few Henny and Cokes (what made me drink that? Who knows - I needed something strong to fight the cramps), I was feeling no pain. On the line to the bathroom, this young'in tells me I remind him of "that girl in the movie with Beyonce and the 3 girls". I had no effin idea what he was talking abount, until the ca-yute friend says "dreamgirls?" He meant Jennifer Hudson.
I get that isht sometimes. Jennifer Hudson, Jill Scott... Dude proceeds to tell me that he likes "thick, natural girls". Too bad he was like 21, cause the way I been feelin lately, I would make that boy put his strong, young back to good use! ;0),
Soon, it was time to go. On my way out, telling my boy we were leaving, one of his assistant coaches grabs my hand, calls me "big green" (umm... my dress was teal, and "big green"? FUCK you, bum bitch), and is talking shit in my ear. I had to ask my boy to rescue me. During the rescue, the youngbuck is like "you're leaving?" I had 20 seconds of feeling like THE SHIT!!!! LMAO!
(even if they were both wack. As attention deprived as I am, I enjoyed the moment) We go back to BK, were dropped off at Nake's, where Nake and I had a nice convo about men and how we don't understand them.
I love my BFF. She understands how my mind works, and STILL LOVES ME! LMAO!
I forgot to mention that my boy, P, had asked me to bring some condoms for his nephew who is off to college. (go ahead,M!!!!) So, I bring a baggie of different types of condoms, do a hand off to P in the middle of the cha cha slide, and he immediately gives it to the nephew. He introduced me to the boy, and I was kind of embarrased! Do I need to be knows as "the condom pusher"? Still, safe sex is the best sex, so M, use the condoms wisely and well. Live long, fuck well, and prosper, young brother!
Today, the GP's drop my baby off, and we go to have some steamed fish and sit in the park. At the end, they come in to pee, and see an assortment of condoms on my damned table. (Stupid me forgot to put them back in the bag) I felt compelled to explain why I had so many condoms, and I KNOW I looked stupid when I tried to explain. UGH!
Fuck it! But still... I don't even get any! (well, I get some, but not nearly enough - another story for another time, but if anyone knows someone...HOLLA!)
Sometimes, there is no way to clean some shit up...... Everybody haaates Eve....
WTF?!?!?!
On a positive note, my baby is back (he spent the weekend @ Grandpa's), and I was out doing stuff so I could have shit to talk about.
On Saturday, Nake invited me to a dinner her aunt Diane was hosting at this spot called Churrasceria Plataforma. I got there, in my .99cent flip flops,and immediately felt like a loser. I should have at least changed into my $10 flats. (you ever have that feeling?) Still, I plowed on, was led to that table, (and a group of 14!), and after watching folks in awe, proceeded to have enough meat to feed Woodside, Queens. (don't know why I chose Woodside, but I ate a lot - do you get THAT?!?!?)
So, after Nake texts me that she got me on the meal (GOOD LOOKIN', NAKE!!!), cause I don't know WTF is going on up in here, and neither did she, I stop saying no to the waiters who keep coming up and asking me if I want to try a piece of flank steak, or some sausage, and start to EAT. Alls I can say is thank goodness I did not wear my girdle or any restrictive stuff, cause lawd have mercy! I felt my arteries clogging as I ate, and was like "fuck living long..I'm eating, bitches!" I should have enjoyed the meal more, because then...
the bill came.
Shit was 1345 dollars. And some cents.
I'm sure some folks will be like "that's all?" Not me. That is rent.
So after the bill is paid, with more "that's my mortgage, son!" type comments, Nake and I bid adieu to the group, and we go downtown to meet with Shandalu, my roomie at Temple University. Shanda and her Bff, Poo, are in the city to hang out, and as I haven't seen Shan in a few years, I am excited.
We meet up with her at a bar near the Hotel Gaansevort, and she is with Poo, and two white chicks, R and E. R is an old friend of theirs, and E is a friend of R's. I won't bore with all the details, but suffice to say Nake and I were entertained by the antics of Shan and her girls, and really made me think about the friendships I have vs. the friendships other folks have.
My friends WIN! All the time, hands down!
Afterward, Nake and I were discussing the fact that we would not be Natalie Holloway-ed (google it), because we don't do that. Never have, after 15 years of going to the club together, have I EVER left my girls to leave with some dude, ESPECIALLY one I just met. Maybe my man, and he would take my girls home too. Seems to me that all squads don't have the same rules.
Gave me lots of food for thought, and for say, the 1millionth time, made me reflect on how blessed I am to have friends who have my back. (even when I am extra crazy, which is often)
Sunday, I go to a friend's bbq. This is the "punk ass" friend I referred to in an earlier post. The one who hurt my feelings. Clearly, we made up...kinda. I'm still kind of annoyed, but missing talking to him more than being annoyed at this point.
Nake, G ,big booty T, and I went to the bbq. On the way there,I started getting MAJOR cramps. Uh-oh...Please don't come, period. I am usually glad to see it (a sista is irregular), but I did not want it to put a damper on my fun, so I was hoping the cramps were the calm before the storm.
On the way, drinking mojitos and talking shit, I started to feel a bit worried. I was so busy being annoyed with my boy that it hadn't occured to me that he could be annoyed with me for being annoyed with him. What is he acted stank? It WAS a possibility.
(insert fearless act here: I STILL went, even though I was nervous about how he would react)
Luckily, he didn't.
Gave me a big hug, and I felt welcome. Chatted with some of his boys, one of whom is attracted to Nake, (even though he said nothing to her), and one who I just met, but who I liked (he seemed nice), and he was ca-yute! LOL!
After a few Henny and Cokes (what made me drink that? Who knows - I needed something strong to fight the cramps), I was feeling no pain. On the line to the bathroom, this young'in tells me I remind him of "that girl in the movie with Beyonce and the 3 girls". I had no effin idea what he was talking abount, until the ca-yute friend says "dreamgirls?" He meant Jennifer Hudson.
I get that isht sometimes. Jennifer Hudson, Jill Scott... Dude proceeds to tell me that he likes "thick, natural girls". Too bad he was like 21, cause the way I been feelin lately, I would make that boy put his strong, young back to good use! ;0),
Soon, it was time to go. On my way out, telling my boy we were leaving, one of his assistant coaches grabs my hand, calls me "big green" (umm... my dress was teal, and "big green"? FUCK you, bum bitch), and is talking shit in my ear. I had to ask my boy to rescue me. During the rescue, the youngbuck is like "you're leaving?" I had 20 seconds of feeling like THE SHIT!!!! LMAO!
(even if they were both wack. As attention deprived as I am, I enjoyed the moment) We go back to BK, were dropped off at Nake's, where Nake and I had a nice convo about men and how we don't understand them.
I love my BFF. She understands how my mind works, and STILL LOVES ME! LMAO!
I forgot to mention that my boy, P, had asked me to bring some condoms for his nephew who is off to college. (go ahead,M!!!!) So, I bring a baggie of different types of condoms, do a hand off to P in the middle of the cha cha slide, and he immediately gives it to the nephew. He introduced me to the boy, and I was kind of embarrased! Do I need to be knows as "the condom pusher"? Still, safe sex is the best sex, so M, use the condoms wisely and well. Live long, fuck well, and prosper, young brother!
Today, the GP's drop my baby off, and we go to have some steamed fish and sit in the park. At the end, they come in to pee, and see an assortment of condoms on my damned table. (Stupid me forgot to put them back in the bag) I felt compelled to explain why I had so many condoms, and I KNOW I looked stupid when I tried to explain. UGH!
Fuck it! But still... I don't even get any! (well, I get some, but not nearly enough - another story for another time, but if anyone knows someone...HOLLA!)
Sometimes, there is no way to clean some shit up...... Everybody haaates Eve....
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Day 4....
I admit - it's getting tough after only 4 effin days! Today, I went with my girl to order her wedding dress - she was so beautiful! We also decided on the dress I will be wearing as the bridesmaid, and I love it! What I DON'T love is that it was suggested that I order a size 20 (uh huh...20) dress because of my ample bosom and bootay. The fitting room lady told me "you got junk in the trunk!" Her name is Sonia, and she was cool as a fan...I loved her! Panamanian posse...stand up! I told her we are going salsa dancing, and I have a feeling she will tear da club up....
So, I was measured, and the # around the breasts come to 44! WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!?!? I am waiting on my period, so I have that extra water thang going on,and my breasts are tender as hell, but 44? I dunno abt that, but I believe allowing someone to convince me to order a size 20 dress is a damned fearless move. I'm a big girl, but I ain't no damned 20. (Shout out to all the 20's out there, though. I ain't hating, I'm just saying...)
So, in other important news, fearless act # 2 was not breaking out into rage when my son (I LOOOOOOOVE him - he is awesome and so great, even when he is a pain in my ass) told me that his dad has his chick waiting in the car when he dropped him off. I know some folks will be like "so?", but I am too third world for that shit. I don 't trust mofos. It's bad enough that before I moved out, he would let her know my movements, and she would come over when I was not there and chill with my son and him (!!!!! Yes, that bitch ass nigga did that shit - I don't give 2 fucks - that shit will burn for a minute), but now she knows where I live NOW??!?!?!? Yo - I feel major violation. Seriously.
I missed a party tonight. Folks know that a party ain't a party unless I run all through, upside and sideways in a club. I am tight, but looking forward to making the next one... Holla at me for info on that piece - from what I understand, it's a spot for folks like me, that like to dance. I will shake my ass like nobody's business, leave looking like a strobelight, and not give a FUUUUCK! I love the bassline @ a club with a sound system....
Nake told me this morning that McCain picked a woman for his VP. Some lady from Alaska. I dunno abt this one, MAC....
I am a bloated bitch right now, my titties hurt, I am PMS-ing, thinking about paying my rent next week, and the cable bill. I need to get Sen his school uniform, learn how to tie a tie, (although I might cheat and get his ass a clip on...LOL!) get some groceries, plan a bridal shower, attend an Obama event in the morning, be the best mom, sister, friend, lover (if I get some - another post for another day...), and woman I can be. All in the quest of living, dreaming, celebrating, and loving.
Eve A., still on Team Obama, and I'm out.... Change or bust!
So, I was measured, and the # around the breasts come to 44! WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!?!? I am waiting on my period, so I have that extra water thang going on,and my breasts are tender as hell, but 44? I dunno abt that, but I believe allowing someone to convince me to order a size 20 dress is a damned fearless move. I'm a big girl, but I ain't no damned 20. (Shout out to all the 20's out there, though. I ain't hating, I'm just saying...)
So, in other important news, fearless act # 2 was not breaking out into rage when my son (I LOOOOOOOVE him - he is awesome and so great, even when he is a pain in my ass) told me that his dad has his chick waiting in the car when he dropped him off. I know some folks will be like "so?", but I am too third world for that shit. I don 't trust mofos. It's bad enough that before I moved out, he would let her know my movements, and she would come over when I was not there and chill with my son and him (!!!!! Yes, that bitch ass nigga did that shit - I don't give 2 fucks - that shit will burn for a minute), but now she knows where I live NOW??!?!?!? Yo - I feel major violation. Seriously.
I missed a party tonight. Folks know that a party ain't a party unless I run all through, upside and sideways in a club. I am tight, but looking forward to making the next one... Holla at me for info on that piece - from what I understand, it's a spot for folks like me, that like to dance. I will shake my ass like nobody's business, leave looking like a strobelight, and not give a FUUUUCK! I love the bassline @ a club with a sound system....
Nake told me this morning that McCain picked a woman for his VP. Some lady from Alaska. I dunno abt this one, MAC....
I am a bloated bitch right now, my titties hurt, I am PMS-ing, thinking about paying my rent next week, and the cable bill. I need to get Sen his school uniform, learn how to tie a tie, (although I might cheat and get his ass a clip on...LOL!) get some groceries, plan a bridal shower, attend an Obama event in the morning, be the best mom, sister, friend, lover (if I get some - another post for another day...), and woman I can be. All in the quest of living, dreaming, celebrating, and loving.
Eve A., still on Team Obama, and I'm out.... Change or bust!
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Barack Obama
On day 3 of the Fearless Living Challenge, I watched Barack Obama give his acceptance speech for the Democratic party nominee for president. WOW. On the anniversary of the "I Have a Dream" speech. I'm sitting in awe of what happened during my lifetime. And Sen'ari's lifetime. While Sen ran around yelling "President Obama", I got closer to the television and watched a man tell me about his plaform,and I felt valued and heard as a mother, taxpayer, a person hopeful for the future, a dreamer, as an American.
It was an awesome moment,and I sooo hope he wins and is able to really affect change for the average person.
It was so fly to see a Black man reach that elusive place of respect and acceptance of his greatness.
I didn't really do anything fearless today, but I had a fearless thought - does that count?
For the first time in a long time, I became entranced in the magic of Black men. The real magic. That sweet, protective of sistas, Malcolm X type magic. It was awesome.
Evelyn A, writing from Team Barack.... I'm out.
It was an awesome moment,and I sooo hope he wins and is able to really affect change for the average person.
It was so fly to see a Black man reach that elusive place of respect and acceptance of his greatness.
I didn't really do anything fearless today, but I had a fearless thought - does that count?
For the first time in a long time, I became entranced in the magic of Black men. The real magic. That sweet, protective of sistas, Malcolm X type magic. It was awesome.
Evelyn A, writing from Team Barack.... I'm out.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Random Musings....
Woooow.... I had a whole list of musings, and seemed to have pressed a button that made it disappear. Wooow.... I'm hurt....
So, last night I listened to Hillary's speech, and I have to say, it was good. I have been prepared not to like her, but she is a powerful role model for women. Go Hil! (She STILL ain't no Michelle Obama, but one thing I am learning is to give credit where credit is due)
Had lunch w/ some of the girls today, and I feel happily inspired about our weight loss challenge. TRUST I will be HOTT(ER) by the end of the year. Believe that.
The job front is weak right now, but I am keeping hope alive.
The August G3 event is tomorrow, and I'm excited, and planning September's event. Go G3!
Today's fearless acts:
* I paid my electric bill - long story as to why it was scary, but not anymore - yaaay!
* I told a friend that his actions were upsetting to me, which was sad and liberating at the same time - the old me would have waited to not be upset anymore, and been hurt in the process. I'm hoping we can fix whatever is wrong, cause he is my pal and I would hate to have to cut his punk ass off (lol!), but I am learning to stand up for myself and my feelings.
* I agreed to go SHOPPING - the bane of my existence, after the weight loss challenge... I don't like to shop!
Til the next time...
So, last night I listened to Hillary's speech, and I have to say, it was good. I have been prepared not to like her, but she is a powerful role model for women. Go Hil! (She STILL ain't no Michelle Obama, but one thing I am learning is to give credit where credit is due)
Had lunch w/ some of the girls today, and I feel happily inspired about our weight loss challenge. TRUST I will be HOTT(ER) by the end of the year. Believe that.
The job front is weak right now, but I am keeping hope alive.
The August G3 event is tomorrow, and I'm excited, and planning September's event. Go G3!
Today's fearless acts:
* I paid my electric bill - long story as to why it was scary, but not anymore - yaaay!
* I told a friend that his actions were upsetting to me, which was sad and liberating at the same time - the old me would have waited to not be upset anymore, and been hurt in the process. I'm hoping we can fix whatever is wrong, cause he is my pal and I would hate to have to cut his punk ass off (lol!), but I am learning to stand up for myself and my feelings.
* I agreed to go SHOPPING - the bane of my existence, after the weight loss challenge... I don't like to shop!
Til the next time...
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Day 2 of The Fearless Living Challenge
In the last 9 months, I was dumped, moved, and (halfway) convinced myself that I was great. For a few months I was, able to ride the high of moving into a new, (emotionally) safe place to lead me to a place of (kinda false) confidence.
Until one day I woke up feeling like that girl in the horror movies that runs from the monster, loses him, then finds herself in the middle of the meadow, lost. So, like Jay-Z said, I had 99 problems, and even though being in the wrong relationship wasn't one, I still had 99 problems.
What do I do now? Who am I? (see how this question is a mainstay? lol) What do I want to do now that I am free(er) to choose?
This feeling had manifested itself into my being a fearful, almost bitter person. I could feel my insides turning, my aura, energy morphing into something heavy that I didn't even want to be around. I developed fear of people asking me how I was, because at the slightest prompt, the words of how I REALLY feel would come pouring out, and even though I didn't want to be seen as "poor little EVE", I was adding to that perspective by not doing my part to live my damned life.
Enter the Fearless Living Challenge. 30 days. 30 acts of kindness to myself. I am 33 fucking years old. I have learned a lot, and there is still a lot to learn. If I don't force myself to LIVE, to put myself where I want to be, I will soon be old, bitter,and angry. A closed mouth don't get fed, and this sista likes to eat. So, I'm grabbing shit by the lapels, and takin' mine.
Join me, and get yours too. Barack said it: YES, WE CAN!!!!!!!
What have I done so far?
* Start this blog, (thanks for the suggestion, Janelle!!)
* Accept that I have a LOT to work on right now.
* Tell a friend how much I appreciated his friendship, and how much of a part of my development he had been, maybe without even realizing it.
* Apply to be a part of a weight loss program - they took pictures of my stomach - GOOD LORD....
Until one day I woke up feeling like that girl in the horror movies that runs from the monster, loses him, then finds herself in the middle of the meadow, lost. So, like Jay-Z said, I had 99 problems, and even though being in the wrong relationship wasn't one, I still had 99 problems.
What do I do now? Who am I? (see how this question is a mainstay? lol) What do I want to do now that I am free(er) to choose?
This feeling had manifested itself into my being a fearful, almost bitter person. I could feel my insides turning, my aura, energy morphing into something heavy that I didn't even want to be around. I developed fear of people asking me how I was, because at the slightest prompt, the words of how I REALLY feel would come pouring out, and even though I didn't want to be seen as "poor little EVE", I was adding to that perspective by not doing my part to live my damned life.
Enter the Fearless Living Challenge. 30 days. 30 acts of kindness to myself. I am 33 fucking years old. I have learned a lot, and there is still a lot to learn. If I don't force myself to LIVE, to put myself where I want to be, I will soon be old, bitter,and angry. A closed mouth don't get fed, and this sista likes to eat. So, I'm grabbing shit by the lapels, and takin' mine.
Join me, and get yours too. Barack said it: YES, WE CAN!!!!!!!
What have I done so far?
* Start this blog, (thanks for the suggestion, Janelle!!)
* Accept that I have a LOT to work on right now.
* Tell a friend how much I appreciated his friendship, and how much of a part of my development he had been, maybe without even realizing it.
* Apply to be a part of a weight loss program - they took pictures of my stomach - GOOD LORD....
God is so Good!
You know how you watch an awards show and every single person thanks God for their award? Well, even though I ain't on TV, I am a star-ah in my own mind, and I too will join the ranks of folks thanking God for His many blessings at the start of this, my new blog, EVE-o-lution.
All jokes aside, I really am grateful, even on those days that I can't sleep, and the only words that seem to fall from my lips are "why, God, WHY?!?!?" The nights I have spent crying myself to sleep and praying for the morning I would wake up feeling lighter, less stressed, more refreshed and encouraged, I knew I was not alone.
Funniest shit is, I ain't even religious. I was the kid who hated religion class in school, and tried to have jokes when we had assembly in church at Unity Catholic (now St. Gregory - Crown Heights STAND UP!!!!).
It took me a long time to find that rhythm, that attitude of gratitude, develop a relationship with Him, the Notorious GOD. (now I know some of you will say I am using the word notorious incorrectly, but according to dictionary.com, in "1548, the word meant "publicly known," from M.L. notorius "well-known, commonly known,". Negative connotation arose 17c. from frequent association with derogatory nouns.
So there.
Right about now, you may be asking yourself, WHAT THE HELL is up with this chick? Who is she? What is she about? What will she be writing about? And the truth is, I don't really know. What I do know is that the last year has brought me the lowest lows and the highest highs, and instead of experiencing them only in my head, I decided to be true to my shy (yeah, right....well, sometimes...) self and post my thoughts, feelings, and experiences on the world wide web located at any computer near you.
So, just like my fellow thickum Jill Scott, I ask myself: Who is Evelyn A.? (can't have the full gov't out there yet - don't really know who's out there yet)
Everyday, I discover something new about who I am, and in these discoveries, large and small, I am evolving. Hence the name of this joint, EVE - o - lution.
Stay with me, people. Imma need some partners in this wild, crazy, sexy, scary, sad, and thrilling ride called life. All I wanna do is live, dream, celebrate, and love. Peacefully, happily, safely. A whole lot.
All jokes aside, I really am grateful, even on those days that I can't sleep, and the only words that seem to fall from my lips are "why, God, WHY?!?!?" The nights I have spent crying myself to sleep and praying for the morning I would wake up feeling lighter, less stressed, more refreshed and encouraged, I knew I was not alone.
Funniest shit is, I ain't even religious. I was the kid who hated religion class in school, and tried to have jokes when we had assembly in church at Unity Catholic (now St. Gregory - Crown Heights STAND UP!!!!).
It took me a long time to find that rhythm, that attitude of gratitude, develop a relationship with Him, the Notorious GOD. (now I know some of you will say I am using the word notorious incorrectly, but according to dictionary.com, in "1548, the word meant "publicly known," from M.L. notorius "well-known, commonly known,". Negative connotation arose 17c. from frequent association with derogatory nouns.
So there.
Right about now, you may be asking yourself, WHAT THE HELL is up with this chick? Who is she? What is she about? What will she be writing about? And the truth is, I don't really know. What I do know is that the last year has brought me the lowest lows and the highest highs, and instead of experiencing them only in my head, I decided to be true to my shy (yeah, right....well, sometimes...) self and post my thoughts, feelings, and experiences on the world wide web located at any computer near you.
So, just like my fellow thickum Jill Scott, I ask myself: Who is Evelyn A.? (can't have the full gov't out there yet - don't really know who's out there yet)
Everyday, I discover something new about who I am, and in these discoveries, large and small, I am evolving. Hence the name of this joint, EVE - o - lution.
Stay with me, people. Imma need some partners in this wild, crazy, sexy, scary, sad, and thrilling ride called life. All I wanna do is live, dream, celebrate, and love. Peacefully, happily, safely. A whole lot.
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