On Being Trifling

I thought I long left my trifling ways behind but I lied to myself. And that same act brought me back to trifling. This one's from the Personal File...

When I sought therapy in things, I had linked up with the last man I was in a relationship with back in 2005. Way back. We both pulled some disappearing acts on each other resulting in our very anti-climatic 2008 link-up fizzling out. Having moved back from Dallas this time around, he was someone I wanted to run into - if anything to at least get a free meal out of the situation. Much to the delight of the devil we linked up via our original matchmaker. Kismet right? I told myself. "Everything happens for a reason" echoed in the halls of my heart. I should have known that little devil on my shoulder had some sway over me...

After seeing each other again, I got the stats: has a 1 1/2 year old and lives with - excuse me I meant to say is with his baby mother- but he wasn't living with her. In the realm of being single and really in the reality of having some morals the vitals should have had him dissed on site. But being the masochist that I am I kept parlaying and what began as just "how are yous" quickly evolved into those texts...and you all know what I'm talking about: the "remember whens" and "send me a picture" and the all to weakening "I miss yous."

My Waybackex after less than a month propositioned me to be the side chick and I dutifully told him no, but it was sincerely said with much chagrin, sadness, and not the least bit consideration that it could still happen if we continued this verbal dance. So for therapy and in a transferal of impulse, I bought 3 pairs of shoes. Didn't help. He saw my purchases so clearly I was seeing him, although our meet-ups didn't allow for too much to go down. Eventually after some car time, words of encouragement through some crazy life shit, and getting back "our rapport" I gave in and cemented my place among the annals of the homewrecking hoes and did it. It was even in true homewrecking ho style with the room in the 'tele, sexy underwear and all.

As we laid there he said to me "what's on your mind?" And I didn't want to tell him. It would have been a hailstorm of "I know I supported this, but I know you're not mine and I don't ever want to do this again." And I didn't ever do it again - at least not with him. Because even though he was my Waybackex, and seeing him brought me back to "those days" in '05 - he and his attachments were not moving forward with me.

When I assessed my own motivations, I really did just want to chill. Movies, the bar for happy hour, talk shit, catch up. The devil is. a. LIE. We had something in '05. He now had attachments AND commitments. He wasn't mine. And judging by the birthday cake he got and pics of la familia he wouldn't be mine forevermore. I was ready to discuss these sentiments with him just because I was hoping for a clean closure-filled split and fallback. But instead - my attitude changed from warm to curt, and in a series of unfortunate events (as he would ask Lemony Snicket to verify on his behalf) he didn't make it to my nonprofit's happy hour (and that is my child as far as I'm concerned), he wished me happy birthday 2 days too late, and he lost some shit of mine I entrusted to him because well, I thought he wouldn't lose it. 

He said my emotions & ego got in the way but this was furthest from the truth. If my ego got in the way, I never would have debased myself to the status of hotel homewrecking flusie just so we can get in what was some fairly basic sex. I was tired however, of living in a fantasy that didn't even reap the benefits of an equally-yoked friendship. I knew I wouldn't get what I wanted. I already gave him what he wanted and what my body told me I wanted. But what about everything besides sex - that for the most part were in the safe zone considering his attachments. The day I stopped lying to myself was a good day - the fog and mist I was walking in lifted and I saw things as they were and not as i hoped they would be.

It's funny how we can convince ourselves of everything and bring God and/or destiny into the damn shady deal like God would ever cosign and destiny is down to be trifling. Needless to say, my Waybackex is no longer in the picture and I sincerely hope that Karma doesn't chance upon the trifling vortex I put myself in but - I can say that I am no longer delusional, seeking therapy in things, and definitely staying out of trifling territory.

“I been gone for a minute now I’m back with” TDA the BAWSE

I’ve been gone for a minute. I know…it’s been about an accumulation of way too many minutes but life as it happens to do every now and again caught me in the middle of its multi-faceted shit storm so I was just making it. In the world of just making it there is very little time for the clarity and astute writing of yours truly. But have no fear TDA! is here.

Amongst the drunken birthday emo-breakdown (unexpected but not really), the movers losing one of my boxes and my vacuum after bringing my life from Dallas about 3 weeks later than anticipated, having to chase MY money about 4 times over, traveling to Europe for 6 nights (so necessary), and working on the daily grind – it’s been a crazy 2 months.

In all insanity though, lucidity is never too far behind if you’re looking for it. So of the many lessons I’ve learned in the past few months, this post is your introduction to That Damn Anne, the BAWSE (as Ricky Rozay would say)

Those that know me are well aware that at any given time I’m working on about 4 different things. As an energetic, ambitious, do-er on a mission I legitimately can’t co-sign sitting around waiting for the world to present me with glitter and gold. My current roster (even though as the weeks change so do a few items on the list) is as follows:

1. Executive Director of The World is Your Oyster (TWIYO)
2. Co-founder of The Voluptuary
3. Researcher, grant-writer, paper-writer
4. Solo Jewelry-maker AnastasiabyAnne

Looking at this list it looks pretty paltry to me considering my day-job isn’t on there, and it doesn’t include the other things that seem to consume my time on a pretty regular basis.

I’m sure you’re likening my list though to one (or several) of your scatter-brained friends who hasn’t picked what exactly they want to do and is all ova di place. Every day they have a new job or interest, a new way to make it.

Again Ricky Rozay said it best “No sir, not me!” See when its time to hustle and flow, there are rules of thumb and the 1^st one is shown in my list: prioritize your hustles. I put myself into everything that I do. I truly (rule #2) enjoy everything that I do. But in picking my #1 hustle I found the thing that I would rather be doing EVERYDAY and that has enamored my heart, mind, and time. The 2^nd thing is very closely related to the first, but it’s for-profit so it will most likely ensure baller status so I have the option of making it rain at somebody’s hood-fabulous club one day.

Both 1 & 2 are helping me on my way to my mission. Hustles 3 & 4 are things I enjoy, services I provide to others – but most important those are the “Get money” hustles that put the dolla dolla bills in my hand quickly and without too much effort (rule #3: something you do has to benefit your pockets).

The most commonly asked question: “Where do you find the time?” Now this is tender topic for me because I am a self-professed Go Hard. Methinks that being a Go Hard by virtue of pledging has eradicated most of the fibers in my moral and mental tissue dedicated to making excuses. So disclaimer having been put forth this is a somewhat mathematical response to how alla dis happens.

There are 24 hours in a day. 8 hours in a workday. I have calculated that my average work-work (meaning what they actually want me to do when I’m at work) productivity is at its height at about 4 hours, leaving 4 hours to accomplish strides towards hustle #1 primarily. Hustle # 3 also takes advantage of some of these personal work hours left by what hasn’t been accomplished for #1. So at the minimum you have applied 4 hours on your workday to accomplishing something. Another disclaimer: I work in the nonprofit field so there is some overlap – but I email my cousin back & forth at work so I KNOW some of yall corporate folks be bored as hell…rule #4: find those extra pockets & maximize your time.

Bottom line is everyone makes time for what they want. How bad do you want what you want?

Rule #5: it’s a FLOW. By no means do I kill myself if I haven’t spent exactly 4 hours on my side hustles, by no means do I NOT partake in the social functions and happenings that make me, me. So get you flow together and figure out what works. My flow is that aside from 1& 2 the hustle list is malleable and I’m okay with that. That’s where my spice of life comes from (since the dates have all but dried up).

Okay so I’ve babbled enough about the hustle & flow but there’s one more thing I have to say. As a BAWSE, you have to make time for your team. Your team will always be the first group of ppl to show love, spend $$, and spread the word (at least they should be) so it’s critical that you are (rule #6) never too busy for your team.

I’m “out here tryna get, each and every way” with my focus on. Where you at?

The Therapy in Things

Hello, my name is Anne and this is my first public admonition of going to therapy....

Following the emotional floodgates of seeing a very special someone, who is NOT sans-attachment, I went back to doing what I do best. Seeking therapy in things. My fascination with things however is not some impromptu trait that recently made itself known to me. This surge of emotions was only the tipping point.

I've always been fascinated by things. I mean we do live in a materialistic culture so I guess my affinity for "stuff" was probably well-formulated by all my years of watching television (much worse has been known to happen because of watching TV though). I also have always been very observant. So when I rode the train with my mom I would look around and see snippets of "cool" things I would want when I got older. Bags, shoes, earrings, trinkets. Just stuff. 

As I got older, I worked to attain the "cool" stuff I wanted. And when my check was gone I would get my guy cousin Jr. to commiserate in my love for THE sneaker or pair of Tims I just HAD to stunt with. And so it was that growing up, things became a fascination and I slowly acquired things that people found "cool" and "cute" and "pretty."

Now also having fought the good debt fight quite early, I realized that I had a shopping problem. So I reigned that in with a sprinkle of common sense - "how many red, POINTY shoes do you REALLY need?" A smattering of restraint - "I'm not going to the mall, downtown OR any stores!" And a dash of reality - "WHERE are you going to put all of this STUFF?" That fared pretty well for a good stretch, but after a relocation, some bouts of isolation, boredom, frustration and loneliness I sought therapy in things.

I think I would be a great candidate to see a shrink for many reasons BUT I think I've got my therapy in things pretty well analyzed and to be quite frank, I've gotten some pretty fly shit during my "therapy" trips. I always stick to my main rule: NEVER pay RETAIL/ONLY ON SALE! And I also make sure to keep stock that I'm not adding a trillionth pointy shoe to the collection. So why do it? What's the point of seeking therapy in things? 

#1: Things are ALWAYS there for you. Things aren't the dependent variable, they're the independent variable. The ONE constant in my personal world of change and compromise.  It's not like things can get up and walk away, reschedule, skip out on dates, not call you back. 

#2: Things make me feel good. I always wanted to be "the girl with the cool stuff" and in my mind I LOVE being that girl. I think to some extent my affinity for things has taken shape quite healthy & nicely. Whenever I get my baubles during one of my therapy sessions there is a void that is filled. The therapy-inducing incident(s) may not go away but I'll be damned if I'm not excited about stuntin in my new shoes, wearing my new perfume, or hitting the town with my boss bitch dress. I love making additions to my home decor as well :-)

#3: It's a distraction with long-term benefits. Looking for things, buying things, thinking about things, are all ways to get my mind off the situations that I am tired of dealing with. Not that I'm a sweep under the rug kind of chick, but I am an OVER-thinker kind of chick. If rumination was a sport I would be a champion of champions. So it's a good thing to step back from the sometimes all-consuming, introspective vortex that certain incidents induce in my mind.

This past weekend I bought 1 pair of tan Steve Madden shoes, 1 pair of black suede clog-wedge peep-toes (they look MUCH cuter than they sound), and some gold Marc Jacobs rain boots. 

I figured if I'm going to be dealing with the flood gates I might as well do it in style and stunt!

Hi. My name is Anne. I seek therapy in things and I'm perfectly okay with that.

The GettinOld Blues

I'm 25. And it seems like leading up to this point and very much thereafter I'm beginning to feel the signs of age wearing on me.

I know I'm young. Very. Young. But only 3 months to 26, and I can't help but take to my blog to see if I'm the only one experiencing these pitfalls of GettinOld. I'll break it down into the 3 areas that I hear old ppl talk about: physical ailments, internal maladies, overall deterioration.

Physical Ailments

I've always loved to dance. At the club, at a bbq, anywhere there's music I'm guaranteed to dance solo, with friends, or whatever.

Upon turning 25 however, I fear that I can no longer drop it like it's hot. My thighs be BURNIN!

"Somebody call 911/Shorty's fire burnin on de dance flaww oo wooo"

Literally. Burning. The heels add a whole other variable to that burnin equation...

I've always only had a 4 hour maximum with my shoes, post-25 that 4 hour maximum has gone on to include:

no walking to the club in heels (to save the knees and balance ratio)
no unnecessary dancing to songs I have no affinity for (to save the heel stamina and prevent unnecessary sweating)

Sweat: an outfit's worst enemy has now become a standard part of my partying experience.

I remember when I NEVER used to sweat. It had to be at least 95 to get some bead formation on my forehead.

Now. It happens TOO MUCH. In CREVICES. BEFORE I'm done getting dressed. Like Whitney I sweat above my lips. ::Shakes fists in the air:: WHY??!! Has my internal thermometer really set off to this degree.

Sadly. It has.

Internal Maladies
I used to drink like a fish. If drinking was a sport I would have probably come up with at least a Bronze Medal considering my weight class and ability to tank the alcohol without any repercussions except your standard young person hangover.

Now. I can't even digest it as fast as I would like to drink it. Drinking has become a planned event in my social calendar. I have to plan to be fucked up, because the next day effects require my full and undivided attention.

From getting rid of the bile and that ghastly stomach feeling. Ick. To sleeping off the tiredness that ensues. UGH. To calculating when the best time to eat is, along with the appropriate meal (the grease ratio MUST be minimal). To being able to drink water without it tasting sweeter than it should - just being DONE is an event in and of itself that has to have a day after sequel.

I've never been keen on patience and I'm likening this to an internal malady because it's a mental thing. My fuse has shortened by a LOT. Considering it was already short, I am quite sure this isn't a good thing for anyone. Least of all me. But how do I even work on this? I'm only GettinOld out here...

Overall Deterioration
I just be tired. I move a little slower. And I need naps.

Makes adventure-having pretty hard but I've been managing.

I also have been trying to walk myself back into shape. As a petite young lady I know I "look" fit but these internal maladies have got to have some abatement somewhere...and maybe being in shape is the key...

Recovery time is a bitch....luckily I'm in good company when I'm hungover most of the time lol.

I don't even want to be naive about the fact that we all have to get old. I just NEVER thought I would FEEL it at 25!! I thought my legs would start burning at 30 maybe 28 on my more pessimistic days. Maybe it's something in the food we ate coming up that caused this? Since the kids now are overgrown maybe our insides were stunted on the quest to put hormones in these animals....

Dayyuuummmm! All I know is shit is real out here. But I'm determined to stay fly. So excuse me while I go sip on some wine to increase my digestive tolerance and clean the house in heels to stabilize my innate equilibrium. Shaking my GettonOld head.....

Because it's Tuesday & We Get Lo'

I love my friends. There are so many reasons I can list but as it pertains to this post, there's always an adventure involved at the most random times.

Those being the best types of adventures of course, this tale chronicles how my Roadie introduced me to the spot Get Lo. Based in Brooklyn of course, on a late Monday night chill session we ended up at Get Lo.

Now Roadie told me about his older lady friend {definitely NO judgment from me considering I'm not qualified} who is mad chill. Having told Lo about me, the introduction was finally made one very late Monday evening.

As we walked up to Get Lo the sound coming from the building was already letting me know what was up. Life in the hood has its benefits, including the absence of neighbors who call in noise disturbances, and the seemingly cool neighbors who don't need to sleep or go to work in the morning.

So we show up at Get Lo and she's a little distressed at the moment, which explains why she didn't connect the 'Anne' that Roadie introduced her to and the 'Anne' that was called to get down on the dance floor a little bit later. As a welcome distraction though, Lo was happy to take her mind off of what had been bothering her - and we were happy to take her to a happier place.

So settle in and chill session goin on... Lo' is fiddling with the already boomin system because the subwoofer wasn't as "doom-doo-doom" enough. Once the 'woof is 'woofin to her content and after a little more chillaxin, Lo' turned the lights off & turned the music up.

With a sliver of a bright blue light emanating from the sound system, mirrored walls, and the bass thump-thump-thumpin all in my chest - I'm just soaking it all in and boppin my head to the beat, when I see Roadie tap Lo' and tell her something that was clearly inaudible to me.

Lo' goes: "Oh! Diisssss AYYUUNNE?!"
As she dips down an entire level to really scope out if it's Anneintheflesh.

I love my Roadie. And at that very moment I knew he really told Lo' about his good ol Roadie (yours truly) because of the above response. Not that I doubted him at all, but it just warmed my heart to know in my absence I was still... "around." ~End sappy moment~

"Don't be SHY!" Lo says and invites me to Get Lo...

And Get Lo I sure did on an early Tuesday morning in the heart of Brooklyn. No fuss, no muss. Just a bunch of friends partying like it was 1999 and like none of us had a care in the world. Hands in the air, swayin' with the music, like we own the place and it's only for us.

As time winded down, and my "gettinold" ass took a natural seat with the slow music break, Lo asked me to sign her table. As I sat there, I saw the signatures of my Roadie's crew and how they decided to leave their mark.

I felt more than happy and honored to leave my mark at Get Lo too; and of course I got an invite to the Get Lo event of the summer: none other than Lo's b-day B-D

I'll definitely be back at Get Lo with my bells and whistles on cuz aint nuthing like getting down where you're welcome, in the heart of where you're from.

Reading is Fundamental: A Letter to the Future Leaders

"If you ever want to hide something from a black person put it in a book" ~Unknown

From the time that I can remember I loved to read. My mom used to tell me that when I first learned how to read I read everything from train signs, to posters, to billboards and anything in between. I am quite aware that I have for the most part of my life been a (cool) nerd and liked school, homework and those types of things - so by no means is this post a crusade to convert non-reading aficionados into bookworms.

But the fact remains that reading is fundamental. When I Googled the quote above to see if I could track down who said it, I came across this link:

http://ar-ar.facebook.com/topic.php?uid=113960473311&topic=15101&post=78855

from which I'll be excerpting bits & pieces...

There hasn't been one thing that has benefited me professionally, personally, and financially that did NOT involve reading, processing, and understanding what I was entitled to. From refunds and credits, directions, invitations, job opportunities and duties reading is the one skill that lends itself to developing other skills.

"Their IGNORANCE is the primary weapon of containment...We now live in the Information Age. They have gained the opportunity to read any book on any subject through the efforts of their fight for freedom, yet they refuse to read."

I often see - well let me restate - on occasion I see young ladies reading on the train. They're never the type of things that you can really learn from though. It's the street literature that has the cache with these girls...But having read a few of those when I was like 12ish I'll sum it up with a face :-/ I'm sorry but the stories about Tyquell and his ride or die chick who goes down for him after she gets caught up in his drug game are.....not anything that can educate me.

I know some reading should be for enjoyment purposes but I don't see many of us read AT ALL. Not AMNY, not Metro, barely a magazine...smh something. I read Vogue and even if I don't live that life I always take away something from it. Including upping my vocabulary :-)

I watch my little cousins engulf themselves in their damn DS all day. They don't even know how to interact with the real world because their faces are constantly buried in some alternate reality. My cousin bumped into an old man on the street because he "didn't see him" and he reads above his grade level (thanks to great parenting). But if only they knew that reading could do so much more for you than a video game. Where's the IMAGINATION? Where's the CRITICAL THINKING?

We have access to so much information that it is quite possible to suffer from overload. So many FB statuses have the wrong "there" so many tweets have you wondering if ppl thought that passing elementary was the be all end all of grammatical life. Everything comes in spurts. Even kids shows these days make NO SENSE to me. There isn't a logical, coherent, progression of thoughts. There's no sequence of events. It's just. A mess.

Reading taught me how to organize my thoughts and how even when it may not make sense in the beginning - if you have the imagination and vision to tie everything together, stick it out until the end, you'll be in on the story. That goes for books that teach too...

"There are numerous books readily available at Border's, Barnes & Noble, and Amazon.com not to mention their own Black Bookstores that provide solid blueprints to reaching economic equality (which should have been their fight all along) yet few read consistently, if at all."

Now I'm not saying that the solutions to all black ppl's problems are in books - but reading has become even more fundamental now because that's how you PAY ATTENTION in today's world. That's how you sift through all the bull that you get fed listening to "Pookie and 'em," sitting on the stoop, and NOT knowing how everything in Washington actually affects you way more than Daddy Warbucks and his crew.

I think there's a very serious correlation between the fact that most black children can't read at their appropriate grade level, and that reading remains to be fundamental. It's 2011...slaves weren't allowed to read but here we are with the right to it and it's still not happening...

I often get 'complimented' by los blancos who say to me all the time "You speak so well!" or "You're so articulate!" I don't even know if that is a compliment - because I can tell you after going to school for over 20+ years, with 2 degrees, and way TOO much debt I expect nothing less than how to speak well! Shiiiieeeet I would sue the whole system if I couldn't do at least that for all that money. But I still acknowledge reading has made me a much better writer, and better at articulating things.

If the children are our future, my ass is scared! With the Age of Entitlement youngins coming up in the ranks I'm going to need some insurance from somewhere that all my money wont disappear at the bank, that they'll know how to do their jobs, and that they'll understand what I'm saying when I call them incompetent to get my refunds.

My contingency is to help expose and engage these kids to the world that's out there but I know I can't be the only one. I just hope that these kids learn from somebody, somewhere that reading is fundamental. And without it your just a blind person walking in the dark on these streets.

It's August & That Last Week Was....

In terms of popular culture, last week can be summed up with one word: STOOPID. So dumb that the appropriate spelling of the word does NOT suffice - a big word can;t even be ascribed to the tomfoolery that was the last week of July in popular culture. Seriously.

Now I will admit that i do watch a preposterous amount of TV. But it's not like I'm not gaining something from it. Last week proved to me a few things that I'll shed light on at the end of my rant. So let's start with the rundown from the day we all LOVE to LOATHE: Monday.

Basketball Wives: Undoubtedly I could begin a rant about this in any one of the 7 damn milieus that displayed the boorishness that characterize the "except one - none of us are actually basketball wives" clique. I guess I'll start with the root of the debacles that ensued.

Meeka. As soon as this girl waltzed onto our television screens she had disaster written all over her mouth. Maybe if she had taped that shit shut she wouldn't have been in that situation. We've ALL been newcomers but how many of us can attest to being that...damn...thirsty. The cardinal rule with females is NOT to run your mouth, you have to peep the scene and THEN get in where you fit in. At least don't SHOW ppl that you do that. Fool them, trick them, stunt, front. But from the beginning I knew she was asking for it. As she did the entire season she ran her mouth too damn much. The situation was squashed and her tongue took off...running at lightening speed about some stoopid weeks ago comment. Everyone has to learn a lesson. Just sucks that you had to get mushed out of a country on national television...And peep how she never told Tami she was classless to her face. I have to pull out an old term we had for that in Brooklyn when I was coming up: pet. Seriously pet.

Suzi. "I didn't want to say anything but"another one who's PET. Why bring that shit up there...along the wonderful cobblestone streets of Rome, with a scenic backdrop. Your lisp-havin ass started a fire and Evelyn of course throws that gas. You too Suzi are deathly afraid of a verbal sparring match, and you definitely proved you were an underling when you read your "entire" text message string when NO ONE ASKED FOR ALLA DAT. Not interested in your new founded tucked under balls.

Tami. You have children. Need I say ANYTHING else in your special section here. No I'll continue because these are egregious social maturity issues and clearly you're not aware that fighting bitches over "principal" was something that should have STOPPED occurring after 25 - at the very latest. At a benefit yelling and carrying on about food stamps, at a Polo event, at dinner in Rome, at VIP in the club... in ROME?!?! I personally don't even want to visit that place until an extensive amount of time has eradicated the Italians memories of those ghetto ass bitches. There's something that I learned when I went to orientation before studying in Sydney. The Ugly American. Tami took the travel adage of the loud, obnoxious, demanding, unpleasant American traveler and upped it a whole other level to the "Grotesque American." At any point in time when I choose not to associate with someone do you know how I handle it?

......

.......

That's just it. I ignore them, cut them off, and move on. I've wanted to mollywop girls and guys alike PLENTY of times. But what exactly is the point? Now your titty is out, you can't party and finish the bottle of liquor, you look ignorant at someone's classy affair (again), and let me reiterate YOU HAVE CHILDREN. Sitchyoassdown. Build a bridge and get the fuck over it.

Shaunie. This bitch be fanning the flame before the gas even gets to it. Instigating, non-helpful I can see why Shaq put that court order tellin her to keep his name out her mouth. I mean why would you read a letter addressed to you in a lobby...out loud? She's the main one. Trust as a producer she needs ratings so there's no way not having fights would do her wallets good I'm sure. But I guess since traveling to a nice country for free is a perk worth the drama....

STOOPID.

Ms. Winehouse: may she RIP. In no way do I celebrate death or wish it on anyone - but really though her debut, celebrity-creating single was Rehab and she said they tried to make her go and she said "No, no, no" what did ppl THINK WOULD HAPPEN??? What you just do mad drugs for forever? This culture of following celebrity is just corny to me now.

Yall have all this money. Accolades. Press. Bling. Fly cribs. But where is the SUBSTANCE? Where are YOUR FRIENDS? Like non of yall have friends from your youth? No? Too normal? Money really made you? Meanwhile soldiers died the WHOLE WEEK. Fighting for these high ass gas prices we got going right damn now.

No shine for them. No recognition. No acknowledgment - besides on 1010 WINS and I know no one besides my aunt is playing that when she goes to work...And if Osama is DEAD WHY WE STILL AT WAR??? Now we trying to get ALL the Taliban? Lawd we gon' be at war foreva then because they birth these "insurgents"

STOOPID.

The Debt Crisis. I'm so SICK of these politicians. All the fuck they're good for is fuckin/flirting/texting recklessly, getting into scandals, and arguing. If that was a Black person doing what they were doing they would have been fired, shot, and protested against EONS ago.

I really would love have a Democratic experiment. Come Election Day how about NOBODY like nobody at all, vote. Run up on these fools and just SHAKE THE SHIT OUTTA THEM. They'll probably be at some fancy $300 lunch with a damn lobbyist. But the old people might not get paid? WHy should yall get paid. None of these people have mastered what we ALL got taught in like Kindergarten and the 1st grade: compromise - listening - playing fair.

Then we got the blockhead FB contributors talking about: "if Social Secutiry don't get paid I'm not voting for Obama again!" Right because Obama is supposed to wave his big black dick and SAVE AMERICA! People's ignorance into the workings of the government is just damn depressing because really it's not a complicated matrix...but I mean in all honesty if you don't vote for him again, that's cool I mean the Republicans are already planning to eradicate and or quarantine the US from the millions of leaches who are unemployed and sucking the life out of the country they live in :-/

STOOPID

T-Mobile/Macy's Downtown BK. I'm broke and honestly like I told T-Mobile's reps I've paid overdraft JUST to pay the bill before. But shit aint smart...so if I can prevent it I will. I called July 25 to cancel my payment arrangement. Shorty says your service may be interrupted. The next day, I tried to call my mother and was greeted by the "Doo-doo-doo dum" T-Mobile chime. WTF?! So I made another arrangement and got it put back on, the agent says ALL THE WAY AT THE END OF THE CALL "They'll be a $20 restoration fee" I was rushing but I definitely was like Ohhh iggghhhht. I'll call yall after I handle this interview.

Get to Macy's for said interview...mad hot ghetto mess going on. Arrived on time for a 2pm interview. Signed in. No one said shit, addressed me, or even said "We'll be with you" until the guy who's interviewing me calls me in at 2:50pm. Long story short (and sparing you the absurd outfits and relational skills) the job that was online wasn't even available. "I'll keep your number" No. Please for both of our sakes burn my shit. This wasn't meant to be. And of course I get an email at 6 pm saying the job isn't available. Now you tell me....

Back to T-Mobile. After getting the run around and being told "there's nothing we can do" with my angry approach "Even if you think you're charging me the bill will be short $20 every time." I parlayed with a Billing Specialist about the reality the next day. I've been with yall for too long to pull this shit without warning. You can't just CUT MY PHONE OFF no text, no warning. Customer Service Rep could have TOLD ME to reschedule another payment since my shit was off for all of 2 minutes. I can do her job in my sleep and we're all struggling. It's the agent's job to know how to help me and every other time they do...he got tired of my yapping and gave me a credit. Having to wait an extra day:

STOOPID

In Conclusion. One of my besties said it best: "when you have money you be bored...and you have nothing else to do than be concerned with drama I guess" I'm just thankful I don't hang out with classless, bum bitches who lack social maturity.

In terms of what's going on I sincerely hope ppl pay more attention to what's REAL. Blacks lost ALL WEALTH GAINS b/c of the recession. Largest gap in 25 years. But who cares about that when they're blasting who wore what to Ms. WInehouse's funeral.

As for the general masses learn the damn branches of government, watch School House Rock shit that's how I learned the shit. I'm just saying stop expecting (like too many Black ppl have done for too long) for people to just IMPROVE SHIT. IMPROVE YOURSELF. READ. LEARN TO READ. Anything besides saying you're about to do NOTHING because you don't have your way.

Customer Service is a job, just like representing your constituents in Washington. When people don't get on their job or when they violate you can do what YOU want - but I refuse to pay for that shit because in the grand scheme of things too many ppl are looking for something to do for ANYONE to be doing simple shit WRONG. And I'll remind those slackin asses whenever it affects me because I refuse to be like this past week suffering from

STOOPID.

To All the Daddy-Less Girls

For the greater part of my life I grew up without my father being present in my life. Our relationship began with writing letters back and forth (since he still lives in Haiti) and small exchanges of my father's acknowledgment of my existence. After a while though of not seeing the man, or hearing his voice we both fell off of that.

I met him once, very briefly when I was 6 at a distant relative's First Communion somewhere distant from NYC. Prior to the creation of digital cameras, there was not one single documentation of that day that I can remember except that he hardly seemed interested, we spoke for what seemed like a nanosecond, and he came to that event but none of mine.

After getting used to the fact that he wasn't in my life, and seeing that even our pen-pal communication had dwindled, at the age if 15 I decided to write my father a letter and let him know about himself. In that letter I made sure to let him know that I didn't appreciate him never calling for my birthday even though we're born 8 days apart, in America father's are responsible for their children and if they don't pay can be taken to court for child support, and the fact that he has never been to a graduation, a life event, or even just there in life was not cool. My mom proofread it to make sure I didn't violate to the umpteenth power and she gave me the green light.

Of course I didn't get a response. Word from my cousin was that he was upset about it and sincerely convinced my mother got me to write it. I wasn't concerned with any other response or reaction that a reply from him that never came. When I went to Haiti in 2006 it was time to address face to face what I said in the letter.

My dad arrived at the family house and once again it seemed like I was definitely not a priority. He made sure to be the charmer that I heard he was and talk history, politics, and joke with my uncles and ppl in the house as I sat outside and waited. About a cool hour and some change later, we had our "talk." I confirmed that I did write the letter without any help from my mom and that because he doesn't know me, of course that's what he would expect. He came with the same G a nigga would that was trying to get back in your good graces. After lying about being there for everything that happened BEFORE I WAS BORN and ending at a moot point, I decided to just move on....

I went to visit his house in Haiti and spent a pretty boring, mundane almost invisible day with him at this intellectual book event and that was the extent of our in person interaction. I felt absolutely nothing and don't feel anything for someone who for all purposes is a stranger and that is perfectly okay for me.

As a naturally observant person, I've surrounded myself with people who have an amalgamation of "Daddy situations." From my one friend whose dad is STILL MARRIED to her mom, one of my besties who is a self-professed daddy's girl, to my other female friends who have some smattering of deadbeat but minimally present in life we all have things that we accept and just file away if we need to. I once asked a friend of mine if she would have rather had the father figure she had or if she would have preferred a more involved dad and she really just shrugged her shoulders and said "All I know is how he was and that I don't want that for my kids."

Hearing that truth.com and observing people in life I've realized one thing: NONE OF US have used our daddy-less woes to whore ourselves through the streets recklessly. Although my father hasn't been in my life, I still know what a man should be if for no other reason than the fact that I've seen and heard about some messy ass shit. I'm not "looking for love in all the wrong places" and acting like a scallywag just b/c my father never told me I was pretty. I'm just not the type of person to make excuses, or look for a crutch to explain my actions...

To put it plainly. It's whatever. I've been blessed in abundance with so many other things and gifts that being one of the too many daddy-less colored girls is something that hasn't ingrained itself as a part of my psyche enough to warrant the bullshit that many females out here claim is because they don't have that male figure around.

I would NEVER call a dude I'm romantically and/or sexually involved with "Daddy" it's weird. Shit, calling my own father "daddy" is awkward as hell and I'm NOT LOOKING FOR THAT...My mom did and excellent job and where she did't educate formally or by example i was able to learn on my own. I would NEVER be caught dead in these streets being disrespected, humiliated, beat, or laid up with any old nigga just because I didn't have my father gassing me up...

So to all the daddy-less girls out there I hope you learn to truly seek to learn yourself, your morals, and realize that your actions for better or for worse are a direct reflection of YOU, and not your invisible daddy.

Look at Your Life - On Social Maturity (SM)

It has come to my attention that many people are not aware that with age comes some sense of common decency in social settings. I've seen egregious wrongs at clubs, on the streets, on Facebook, and really in too many damn places. So I decided to take this time to try and shed on some light while we are in the midst of summer and will no doubt fall victim to these offenses over and over and over again.

Social Maturity or SM is nothing more than taking a nanosecond to take a look at your life. When SM crimes are committed, there is no doubt a serious lack of the ability to look at your life. These are the moments where you as an annoyed/aggravated bystander become aware that this person/people missed that small window of opportunity to look at their lives and now you have to deal with the sight of such an occurrence. SO without further ado, these are the Egregious Errors that continually add to the decrease of SM for all the 20-somethings and 30-somethings out there being reckless read up. Because I will always know who has never looked at their life and yes, I will judge your ass.

"I can't hold all this liquor - but I'm gonna drink it anyway..."
We ALL know our limits when if comes to alcohol. After the big ass alcohol party that was UNDERGRAD nobody with a 4-year degree ( and sometimes more than 4 years in that scene) can say that they don't know when they're about to be drunk or when they've had too much.

So WHY IN THE HELL ARE YOU IN THIS CLUB ACTING LIKE YOU CAN'T WALK, SEE, TALK, OR BE THE FUCK EASY??? We've all seen these people...who drank all types of shit and thought they were the Incredible Hulk. I know for a fact that Hennessy makes niggas fight. So when I see that flowing I make sure to be somewhere with a quick exit or I leave before the let out...

If you know you drinking Hennessy Black, Eark & Jerk, Appletons or whatever the hell you like to drink - WHY YOU MIXIN IT WITH PATRON, CIROC, GOOSE or whatever else you know don't go with that shit?????????? Then when you're ass is causing a fuckin scene you gonna be the MAIN ONE SLEEP on the way home...

C'mon son. Take a look at YOUR life. At that moment before you go over the edge think about how dumb you'll look after. Remember all the other times ppl had to carry your ass. Most importantly think about the fact that come tomorrow you won't remember how much of an asshole you were but EVERYBODY ELSE WILL. Put that new liquor down nigga and have a seat. Go bag some bitches. Drink the SAME SHIT. Just please, don't make me have to judge you.

"Beyonce be wearing these lashes guurrrlll, and you know this lacefront is the bidnesssss"
No. It's not ma-ma. Celebrities wear lace fronts that ACTUALLY START AT THEIR HAIRLINES. Really YOU can't afford ANYTHING that Beyonce wears or even looks at by virtue of her surroundings and yours.

Although the beauty supply store and weave central have been known to carry GREAT hair accessories and pieces, for some reason too many of you women seem to think it is okay to wear some fake ass lashes EVERYDAY. To go to work, to go to sleep, to go to the store. BITCH THAT'S GLUE GOING ONTO YOUR EYES. And for the flamboyant bitches that use the glitter glue. Leave that shit for the weekend.

Ma-ma, you and I both KNOW your hairline isn't that close to your damn eyebrows. It's hot as hell, do you really think wearing a wig wit some glue and fake baby hairs should be the most effective use of your summertime funds? I think regular wigs look better than lace fronts, because most women wearing these lace front shit have not looked at their life, or that of their hairlines and foreheads before leaving the crib.

These enhancements are for SPECIAL OCCASIONS. Why do you need extend-a-lash if you not going NOWHERE. The block don't count, and up the street don't count. But if you want to be fucking with some glue at least CARRY THE SHIT WITH YOU. Them lop sided, limp ass eyelashes that be about to peel off are unattractive at best and show your lack of attentiveness at the worst.

I could keep going on the lace-fronts but yall have all seem them out there. Nuff said. Look at your life please.

"I'm going to expose my life, self, and character on FB"
If I see one more half-naked, desperate feenin chick on my home page on Facebook talking about "Add me as a friend" I will legitimately unfriend that person. Facebook is not nobody's e-damn harmony. This is NOT THE PLACE to be showing off your goods asking for friends.

Enough with the TMI on Facebook. All of this sharing information shit has gone overboard. Long after you think ppl done forgot about how you were putting up statuses about "being in love" and "being so happy" and posting love albums - the minute you air your dirty laundry about that same person, I will be the bitch pointing and laughing. Some shit is better left unsaid. Some shit is better left to a PHONE CALL remember those? and some shit just shouldn't be said period. Look at your life and stop making us ALL look at it. People are watching YOU AND THAT PERSON BECAUSE YOU INVITED PPL TO THE SHOW.

If I see one more damn tag about Louboutins, sneakers, or any other dumb shit I will unfriend those ppl as well. You know good and well Mr. Louboutin don't NEED FACEBOOK to sell the REAL SHIT. Leave it to ignorant folk to try organized bootlegging online...If I wanted Louboutins trust me, your page would DEFINITELY NOT be my source of reference. Like. Ever.

"I like to dress along with the hip-hop generation"
Pull. your. pants. UP. If you are 30 and older, there is NOT A REASON IN THE WORLD FOR YOU TO DRESS LIKE YOU'RE IN HS. Wear some loafers, some Clarks, get some damn pants that fit your ass. Just dress with some sense of showing the public you've looked at your life and realize that you won't be a hoodbooger forever, you have a job (or are looking to do more than chill on the block) and if you are gonna sag, PLEASE BUY SOME RESPECTABLE UNDERWEAR. Them dingy ass hanes and fruit of the looms aint cuttin it. And if you're fat - sagging WASN'T MADE FOR YOUR ASS, THERE'S NO MALE ASHLEY STEWART.

In all these cases, we ALL KNOW OFFENDERS. I just thought it was time to tell all these fools to LOOK AT YOUR LIFE. Do something. In some cases it might be DON'T DO THIS SHIT. But at this point we are all cognizant enough to know when to hold em and when to fold em.

A Very Special Independence Day

On this July 4th, while tons of people are out enjoying BBQ's, the sunshine, and people are running the streets, I will be celebrating my own independence. From what you may ask? Well I've finally come the conclusion that hard workers are seldom wont to believe.

I COME BEFORE ANY JOB/EMPLOYER. This may seem like a given, but in reality it's not at all something that is easy to accept, or live. Now in my post before this I made it clear that I'm a "do-er" I've been known to vent to my friends about issues and problems, etc. BUT I've also been known to take matters into my own hands with some semblance of a plan and act. Which is what I decided to do, and why I'll be making the long drive back to NYC starting tonight. A fitting independence day for me since I've freed myself of the shackles of the unglorified, ungrateful work environment that I caught myself working in.

Now I love the Americorps program because you do learn a lot of skills, but make no mistake, I was BROKE here in Dallas. Effectually this is kind of an oxymoron since shit here is generally cheaper than a lot of other places. But having to gas up Candy everytime I wanted to go across town (where everything happened to be in my last few months of living here) became whack. Now I am a social person by nature, but living across the country you kind of learn to manuever around the shortcomings of your surroundings and the people therein. Case and point, everyone needs to "plan" to hang out :-/ um okay so you relaly mean to tell me I need to pencil something in with ppl just to chill. Lamitos. I'm not saying everything should be spontaneous but #c'monson. This false sense of necessity is so...unecessary. Then the disrespect at work started. Normally I'll go into details but all I'll say is, after all the work I did for these ungrateful people, they had me confused because they kept telling ME how sweet a deal I had with THEM. Now I'm REALLY not into the "rubbin shit in" thing. Especially when ppl think they know but they have NO idea.

My bills could barely get paid, I had no social life, I was clocking 45 hours a week on average making no money, living with other ppl who were not as clean as me, and had to deal with yall on Saturday too. What kind of sweat deal is that for me? Being broke with no life. Then I really think they had me confused with a black worker in the Reconstruction era. When I thought about all that was said to me unprofessionally, my professional experiences, and looked at my bank account I had enough. Truly, though when the Executive Director called me a "brilliant underachiever" I REALLY knew, they had no fuckin idea, who they were dealing with. So once I spoke to my TX support team, I decided it was time to boogie. Because I had already had things going on but they were vaguely aware of that the seed was already planted. So let's just say I had a family emergency that warranted my immediate return home.

Just like that. I took 2 days off, went in on Wednesday and Thursday and the ED gave me Friday to finish moving. Loved it. See, I've heard a lot of stories - especially as of late, with ppl who say "girl I got let go" no notice, no time to plan, no sympathy. Why should my loyalty lie with a bunch of ingrates who truly believed they were doing me a favor when in reality I sacrificed to be there for them? You should NEVER UNDERVALUE YOURSELF JUST FOR A JOB. They would never be on my level in any way, and really the bitch was about to omnipresent in my everything. So instead of creating a major misunderstanding because THEY misunderstood ME (but thought they knew me) I decided to cut the ties amicably by telling a lie.

I already asked God to forgive me, but most people can't handle the truth and it be's like that sometimes fo'real. Employers are probably closer to the top caste of the most sensitive ppl out there. And if they're scorned there goes your recommendation. Knowing the environment I was in, it wasn't a culture of independent ppl who made it on their own. They were used to ppl needing them, depending on them, and for most of my life I've depended on myself to make it. Not a good fit if you see what I mean. That's why they thought they "I had it pretty good" and that's why they assumed they could talk to me and say whatever asinine shit popped into their heads. No sir. Not I. So I left, in good standing, and got my freedom before July 4th :-)

I thought about giving 2 weeks - then I thought about spending the money to get there for those two weeks. Nah. Not gonna happen. Then I thought about what they would try and have me do before I left. Nah. Definitely not gonna happen. I had already created a bunch of how tos and so for me it was not only a natural time to break away, but one of the biggest tasks of my job was complete. I was done. I left at the most opportune time for me.

It took me a decade (I've been working since I was 14 years old) to truly have the security within myself to up and leave something that isn't working for me. Because trust me when employers feel it isn't working for them - they don't even stick a fork in you because you're just DONE. And now they are too in my book. I'm too talented, too intelligent, and too loved by my peoples to stay here in this place dealing with some bullshit. So, I'll be back running the streets that I'm familiar with and where people's hustles are at least giving the respect they deserve by those who notice.

Young workers of the world unite, it's a new day and either you're a lay down getting rolled over or you're finding the way to power your own steamroller....I'm about to turn that key what you do is up to you...

Just Do It

I am so thankful I don’t hang around people who don’t talk about shit. You know those people. All the talk about is baby mama drama, some new kicks, niggas, money, bitches, hood gossip, and Lord knows what else could be so intriguing about NOTHING.

I wish I could say I spend countless hours trying to solve this eternal mystery but because I don’t frequent the coop to get the latest chicken grease this thought has only crossed my mind a few times when I hear snippets of those convos.

Nigga. What exactly do you DO?

What is your raison d’être to be on this fuckin block. Like the stoop holds itself up. Does Q’s (who’s real name is unknown to you and forbids him from having a job that pays more than $40K/yr if that) baby mama and kids even care about YOU and your kicks?

I can’t.

“For all the things we must do, doing is the first step”

The Nike slogan never appealed to me until I turned 25 years old, had even more time to think about myself, and took a survey of those around me.

Those who I chill with;

those who I’ve left behind – but FB reminds me of their domesticated lives;

those who I’ve had to unfriend because - my nigga you aint talking about SHIT on here. And when I get there you won’t be buying my products like that.

Look I’m just saying what yall know yall be thinking when yall see those comment threads from elementary school with you tagged from class 313, 412 at PS-whatever…I had NO COMMENT for that thread cuz I can’t be bothered with the past…

But I do focus every now and then on my friends now. I just have to say that I have a phenomenal set of friends. And this is not the type of fake, valley girl Like. OMG! My friends are AWESOME! Nah they’re all intelligent, goal-oriented, responsible, but fun young ladies who can throw down if a bitch come out her face but we don’t do that because we grown type thing and eat sushi and have mimosas and go to brunch type girls.

All my friends stay in their lanes as I do and make it do what it do. Disclaimer being said, I’m still just a do-er. Now I truly believe that I am very different than most people. Who ups and moves clear across the country because the internet said there’s black single guys (yeah that was one of the reasons I’m not even gonna put myself on frontstreet.net) and to be a teacher? Who else goes to Belgium to live for 2 months to learn French?

I’m not tooting my own horn. On the contrary I’ve just come to realize that, those things that I do which are weird – even to me, are because I’m a DOER. Once I put something into the universe AT LEAST 3 times I HAVE to do it.

It’s just this thing I’ve developed from reading The Secret and being really faithful in God’s power to see me through some ::Flamin’ gay bestie voice:: hot ass messes.

Being a doer is about pulling the trigger. I often use the shopping analogy when it comes to this. Being a recovering shopaholic but always a savvy shopper, the best purchases are those that you know through experience and analytics present a deal that you’ll miss if you don’t buy right then and there.

When I decided to move to Texas for example, it made sense because I could at least get a job and live a cost effective life where I would get to actually use the car I was paying for… Even if I was relegated to poverty! A steal in the best of places considering I have not been out of work for long stints since being here (vs. almost 2 yrs in NYC).

When I took my position as an Americorps VISTA, although I knew it wouldn’t make me rich – I knew the opportunity itself would bring about things that I could never have asked for even if I had a higher paying job. I also had no other prospect at the time and after praying to God, we decided that I was right at the bullseye and had to pull the trigger.

I’ve found that a lot of my friends ask why? Or they don’t see the immediate gratification or justification for doing something when the opportunity presents itself. This may be for several reasons and I’m not knocking them. They make it do what it do and it works their way. I’m just saying “It aint me”

My whole thing is why NOT? I don’t have any kids and I don’t have a boyfriend. I’m trying to LIVE before life becomes bottles, homework, and couples dinners like “I Love My Wife.” I already do Dinner and TV so I’m well on the way of being domesticated, but

being free is my motivation to do AS MUCH AS I CAN sans attachments.

But I’m also not as afraid of commitment once the trigger’s been pulled. And my friends know because they heard me cry in the roughest moments of making the move here. They’ve seen me flip out, panic, and bawl when my car got towed.

I damn sure wasn’t gonna sell my car like the lady at the NYC Finance Office suggested. I know for DAYUM sure I wasn’t moving back to NYC to live with

::GASP::

::EGADS::

My MOTHER & ‘EM.

That comment has so much gravity it’s already halfway to the center of the earth lol…

I don’t have any quit in me. That’s why I got fired from the school I was working at (well that’s not WHY but once I have more readers who DON’T know what went down I’ll elaborate in this forum…maybe lol)

Sometimes for better or for worse you have to ::Starksy and Hutch moment:: “Do it…c’mon doo iitt”

Usually it ends up for the better, but life is all about the adventure. From living it (like being stopped ON FOOT by the Carrollton Police in TX) to recounting it (attending a show inside the Sydney Opera House), and best of all – remembering it all for me and for my kids.

I would love to say that I have no regrets…but some of the men that have come through the revolving door could have never came to store lol…but all-in-all it was for a time, it was an adventure and I love me some adventures.

Hell not everyone can say that they LIVE life. From the way I look at it, you can approach it in 2 ways.

Life can be a noun and you can just sit in the shit, letting routine, predictability, monotony and complacence run you.

Or

Life can be a verb where you actually DO, LIVE, SEE, ACT, and indulge in the things that make you different from the people you surround yourself around.

The choice is yours, but I’m gonna have to keep on doing…it’s the only way I know how to stay sane.