When Two Awesome Bitches Collide

Why Does This Never Happen to Me???

Sara Jessica Parker volunteered at Barack Obama's NYC headquarters today calling undecided voters.... I would literally UN-VOTE just so SJP could call me.

We would, of course, become best friends.

Loving a Frustrating Man

In honor of my Halloween costume-I've now chosen to go as a Goodfella- I am referencing said movie for a topic that is on my mind these days. Men. I internally (and via my blog) criticize Jennifer Hudson's sister Julia for bringing all the tragic drama onto her family all for the love of a loser guy who wasn't even the father of her child. But even if your not married to a convicted drug dealer or Henry Hill (another GF reference for ya), love will always have it's little frustrations. Even my own divine relationship gets hairy, and as we grow (and I grow up) being clear and communicative is key in making it work OR in walking away unscathed.

My sweetie-meaty boyfriend, also technological genius has been sweating away tirelessly (a term I'm using VERY loosely) at his job on an on going project. He called me this morning sounding like a deflated balloon, LEAVING work as I was arriving to my own office after working a 24 hour shift. Now, of course when I say "frustrating" I'm not directing this emotion at D, but at the situation. Knowing that my honey hasn't slept well in almost a week, hasn't eaten properly and has had his eyes glued to a computer screen longer than I want to imagine makes my woman parts angry. It's frustrating to love a man who either has to or chooses to be a workaholic. Knowing that his needs and possibly your own will tend to come second to something organically less important than love or family. I used to let this get to me so bad, worse than I ever admitted to D. I'd take it as him not wanting to be a part of our relationship, as him diving into work to get away from me and him cheating me out of something that could feel more real. Eventually an ocean grew between us and two lovers became platonic house mates. Time and space can do wonders. I know some of my myrrh and patience is fueled by the lack of seeing his handsome face, but most of it is because I think differently now. I know D doesn't WANT to work 24 hours straight, but I DO know that he is a dedicated man in every aspect of his life and not just our relationship. I know that he works like he does so that he can advance later, which is something he does for BOTH of us, not selfishly. So instead of bitching or withdrawing, I wince slightly but offer him words of encouragement and support, answer his calls even if it's painfully late and honestly it feels so much better not to be frustrated.

But that's D. I've BEEN with Mr. Horrible, Mr. Frustrating and yes...even a few Henry Hills. Sometimes I think women get caught in between loving a man unconditionally and realizing that the conditions are not for us. By all means, I'm no self help guru, but I do know a thing or two about walking away. A relationship of any kind can always reach a point where it begins to interfere with your own personal choices as an individual; your own responsibilities and goals and at that point "frustration" is actually a sign that your investing time in the wrong person. For instance, J-Hud's big sis got her hint on or around the date she was arrested with her guy during a drug bust. THAT would be a good time to leave. It doesn't have to be as dramatic as indictments and court dates for you to walk away. If he hasn't proven himself trustworthy, if he makes you feel small or unimportant, if he doesn't include you in his life the way you'd like him to, if he has too much drama with his ex-wife or baby mama....or anything else that you know won't change soon and goes against what you want in a relationship. Guy or girl, new relationship or long time love; walking away is hard to do for a reason...because it's IMPORTANT.

Ugh...Waiting Is For LOSERS

I effing miss my delicious boyfriend. And me effing misses me. I just want to smoosh his face and hug him and bake him treats. I wish waiting didn't take so long, I feel like I'm waiting for something to start all the time. Suspended in the air with a clock ticking. I hate hearing that he didn't eat today, because he knows how I am about him not eating from being so busy at work. He has no idea how much I wanted to telepathically communicate a steak dinner to him when he said that today. Missing him is something else, though. It's like a social disease all in itself. I know right now everything moves slow, and when I see him next month everything will be suspended for a second before moving at lightening speed and then slow again until Christmas. I'm get motion sickness.

Coupling

My friend Tia and I met after work to search for cloves, a small and rare obsession we have in common. We traipsed through the wind and rain up to 42nd street to a cigar shop just a block from the Lincoln Building. After that, despite the rain, we trekked on and detoured to Union Square stopping at a Cuban spot called Havana Central (YUM). We sat at a small table near the kitchen sipping Mango Mojitos and taking turns going on and on about our glorious men. D and I, the old pros I guess, after being in a relationship for 3 years even with a 5 month detour, not much tends to shake us anymore. Tia and her brand new baby-relationship still timid and full of newness. Just like that, something settled over the table, and I think it was more than just a mojito-and-sweet potato french fries-food coma.

We talked about love. The different kinds and the differences between them. How you can truly love someone, with all your heart and for some reason or another have to leave them behind. How real love, the kind that stays even after there's nothing new to talk about, always seems to gently simmer instead of boil. I think every woman wants to be swept of her feet. For some romantic idea to come along with flowers and say all the right things and know exactly how to treat her. The only thing is, that never seems to exist. Love is exactly what you make of it. If it's hurried it will be flustered, if it's passionate it will be dramatic, if it is dangerous it will be painful and if it's patient it will be long lasting. I've always been something of a thermometer, unable to hide how I feel at all, wearing my emotions on my sleeve, or so I'm told. The man who keeps me has to love a firecracker, and expect nothing less than to be loved deeply and daily. My heart is definitely in Houston.

"Some" People Are Just Plain Ig'Nint

I won't say what kind of people exactly...but every black person in the world knows this is not a "perm" on Halle Berry. That woman got NEGRO hair, she didn't PROCESS her shit...

SHE WET IT.

*Ignorance courtesy of TMZ.com

"He's So Crazy" & Other Poisonous Ideas About Men

In light of the recent shocking events surrounding Jennifer Hudson's tragic loss of her mother, brother and possibly her nephew (police have found a body that might be the 7-year old boy), I started thinking about relationships. All of the Hudson family drama seems to have stemed from the tumultuous relationship between Jennifer's sister Julia and her husband. Julia's myspace page (I've done my research, y'all) even has a picture of a car he supposedly sold against her will, her caption referring to how her brother (now deceased) had to pick her up from work because "bitch ass William sold my car". I know there is nothing comical about this situation, but it's funny how women never seem to see these kinds of men as an issue until it's too late. The stupid little controlling things he does are ok, but rarely do these women stop to think about how far his crazy antics might go, or who they might effect one day.

I've met women like this before, hell, I used to be one. Referring to their boyfriends as "crazy" as if the things he does authenticates his love for them. He must really love you to go out of his way to make sure you can't leave the house when he wants you to stay. He must REALLY love you to check up on you every 15 minutes of the day. And GIRL he must be SO IN LOVE with you because when you get mad and break up with him he goes bizirk until you take him back. This kind of behavior is not attractive to the typical woman, but it's attractive to some. An attraction that can lead to things like the Hudson double-homicide (possibly triple). Women make excuses for the men they date; women who don't pay closer attention to the warning signs. They like the attention, they like a man who makes a fool of himself for her. In my head, making a fool of yourself, entails sending a ridiculous display of roses to your job or asking you to dance to elevator music. NOT disrupting your life with a series of hissy fits. I never thought my ex, Louis' behavior would effect any one's life but mine until he showed up to my house with a metal baseball bat and threatened to kill a male friend who was at my house. Not only did he threaten, he tried and fortunately failed. That could have easily been a family member, or myself. That could have VERY easily have been a murder, or a double murder. I think about that night every time I hear some woman talk about how "crazy" her boyfriend is and how she stays anyway because, "that's just the way he is." Thinking a tragic escalation of violence can't happen to you just because you sleep in the same bed as this man is a very ignorant mistake to make. ANY man who doesn't respect you as a women, an individual and have enough sense to make your life NOTHING but better is a man who is missing a few screws and can very easily snap over to the other side.

I don't find stories like this amusing, and I don't find men like that to be innocent. Dating a scruffy guy who prefers to keep it "street" is fine, but dating an outright maniac just because he puts it down in the bedroom is foolish. Think about your life and the lives around you and ask yourself if you want to be responsible for your "crazy" man turning his anger on the people you love.

Helpful Resources:

National Domestic Abuse Hotline

Domestic Abuse Help

Prayers R With J-Hud

I'm not really a fan of hers, but I can't imagine what it must feel like to loose your mother and brother in one day, and find your nephew missing. My prayers are with Jennifer Hudson and her family, especially the little boy's mother. To read the full story CLICK HERE

UPDATE: The suspect, William Balfour, J-Hud's sister's husband and or baby's father, was arrested late last night and is now in police custody. The whereabouts of 7-year old Julian King are still unknown.

Every so often there is tragedy that strikes Hollywood and it reminds us that these things can happen to anyone. This kind of shit makes me want to check up on literally everyone I know and make sure their livin' alright.

I ♥ Awesome Music

I ♥ The Bird and the Bee

(click image for website)

I ♥ Tegan and Sara
(click image for website)

I ♥ Algebra
(click image for website)

I ♥ Peter Bjorn and John
(click image for website)

Vintage Me

Looking through some old files, came across some old pictures.

My mother and I the first week in me and D's first place together in Hayward, CA >>>>>>>>>>>>>

(left & below) My 24th B-Day dinner in San Francisco w/ friends and fam.

<D and me on one of our first trips to visit his family in Los Angeles. Also, the rental car from hell, never buy a Saturn, even if you think their cute now.

>>>

MAJOR THROWBACK!!

This is my ex-boyfriend (and still good friend), Noah the summer we stopped being annoying neighbors and had a budding summer romance.

^^^^^^

Vintage Me- (2001) The day after Jr. Prom. In front on my cousin Atya's house. You couldn't tell me SHIT back then. I was 17, the ONLY year of my life that I was boyfriend-less. A few months before I got my first place and "adult" life began.

Sick Sad World (a skeptical review of the times)

Anyone remember that old MTV show, Daria...you know...right before they started flooding every one's lives with "reality" TV? My generation was almost at it's point of no return with MTV, save for the obsession with the one ray of hope, the single item on their roster that came even close to baring truth to the teen experience (at least the teen experience of my day). Daria simply rocked.

Remember on Daria the show that always came on she and her friends would watch with a glazed look over their faces, 'Sick, Sad World'? The show that mocked all shows, and seemed to be the biggest over-statement of the entertainment world, at least at the time (late 90's). Well, take a look around...we're living in it. The obscene following of mediocre, food-deprived pop stars, the matter-of-fact attitude towards hard core drug use (why do people still book Amy Winehouse??), the disgusting insult to every one's intelligence that is called "commercial advertisement"...is it just me or has the REAL world (the actual world, not the "reality" show) become it's own caricature???

Maybe this is "growing up", the diapers coming off so to speak. The second coming of mental development, when my sensory perception once again changes and I look around to find that I wasn't REALLY seeing anything before. Because of this, I can laugh it all off. I can laugh off the fact that HONESTLY come November we get to choose between a half-dead vet. and a moose-killing insane person or a president who, lets all face it...has a higher chance of being assassinated then all the Kennedys combined (God forbid). I can laugh off the fact that the only television I can stand these days are old re-runs of the Mary Tyler Moore Show- live streamed, sexless and commercial free. I can also laugh off the fact that whether it be the second coming of Christ, a massive hydrogen bomb or good ole' green house gases; we are all probably going to see the end of the world much sooner than we should.

Happy Hump Day!!

Envy of the Mindless

Today a homeless man rode between cars through the tunnel to the next stop. I wondered what it would feel like to be that free. Free of shame, free of material need, although I'm assuming something griped him. His eyes were that kind of empty they can get when your vices get the best of you. Of course I would never want to ride between cars through the dark tunnels of the subway. To smell the dank wetness of New York's literal underground, and know that thousands of rats are hoping your ass falls off so they have something to munch on until the cops find you. But just to be that free, void of second thought. Openly insane, instead of keeping your strange thoughts to yourself like the rest of the humans. It's not like I haven't ever walked past a statuesque fountain and thought for a brief moment what it would be like to kick off my shoes and go traipsing through the shallow penny-ridden water. Right there in front of all the lunching business people, who would surely drop their turkey on rye in shock. There I would be splashing up water and singing "The Hills Are Alive". These are things we simple think, but do not do. And in that way, I'm jealous of those with fractured minds, who don't even have enough sense to know their crazy.

I Gotta Get Out of My Head- I've Lived Here For Too Long

I'm pulling myself out of this disgustingly over-ridden rut I've been in once and for all. I booked my plane ticket to go see D last night, and requested my time off to be with him for Christmas. I have so much to look forward to, that it's making me turn into a little blob of goo. Just waiting for time to pass, the faster the better. But instead of living IN tomorrow instead of FOR tomorrow, it's time I just plain snapped out of it. There are TAGS in my closet. TAGS!!! Unworn clothes, UN-ROCKED outfits beckoning for me to grab them, do something fun with my insanely short hair, rock some Vegas eyeshadow and hit the streets with my partner in crime. Well, break out the hot pink nail polish, cause I'm gonna shake my ass tonight. I plan on throwing back more than a few shots and then booking it home no earlier than 1am. The destination at large is the NJV (Not Just Vintage) fashion event tonight honoring the black men of Brooklyn. I have no idea why they are honoring them, other than the fact that, yes, Brooklyn has some of the most disgustingly hot black men I've ever encountered, but I'm always up for a fashion event. Keep an eye out on FUXfashion for the details, and the pics.

Having Too Much Fun Alone

Full of Unevents

Lately I've been pretty mopey. Not sure why, but every day I wake up totally spent and every night I come home and lazily sprawl out on my bed, which is usually scattered with the clothes I stripped off the night before. I fall asleep in a mass of mess and generally don't want to be bothered by anyone but D for the rest of the evening.

But today, I feel a surge of energy. I feel the need to get my ass out and do something. If I'm going to be up nights and tired in the morning, I might as well be tired for a good reason. So tomorrow night, I plan on hitting up the Mansion to watch the debate with fellow Obama-supporters and rub 'bows' with some local celebs. Info will be posted on FUXfashion for all those interested. I know the way I've been feeling lately (emotionally close to "home" and missing D so very much) has been taking it's toll, and going out will only remind me just how far away from my honey I actually am and how much I'd rather be rooting on Obama with him by my side; both of us quietly mocking Palin's passive, Alaskan stupidity and McCain's oddly stiff arms. Until then, I'll settle for a few NYC friends and a strong hearty shot of Grey Goose.

Oh How I Miss Summer

Truth

I remember riding shot-gun in California. Radio blaring, as we speed down the 580. It could have been any day, during any year. The day would be so long and bright that silly things like stray bugs and wind blown hair didn't phase me. I'd stick my head out the window and face the breeze, letting it batter my face with whips of breath, my hair dancing like a palm tree caught in a hurricane, cheeks rippling and eyes reduced to coin slots. Ever try to breathe with the wind in your face at 80 mph? You can't quite grasp it, or even open your eyes to see it. Eventually you just have to swallow it gulping down air like water, it's the only way. I still don't know how something so emphatic can be so desperately refreshing.

Friday ♥ Banter

Some days I miss my boyfriend a little more than others. This be one of those days. I totally miss his face. If missing his face was a number it would a billion. I wish I had a Wonkavator so I could briefly orbit above his office building right now and shout through a bull horn how much I miss his face.

I'm so glad I'm in a much healthier relationship than virtually everyone else I know. It's good have at least that part of life figured out.

One of Those Days

"I don't watch the black channel." - Eryikah Badu

So I'm speaking to customer service for a student loan issue, and it didn't take long to realize I was talking to a black guy. First of all because he had that deep, casually penetrating vocal tone that my beautiful brothers tend to have. But mostly because he was the the most annoying version of an annoying stereotype annoyingly attached to my beautiful brothers. He initially greeted me with a cool, "How you doin?", which I found to be very welcoming and casual, despite the missing conjunction. He verifies my information including my email address (nubianwordsmith) and realizes he's speaking to a black woman.

"Ooooh, what an exotic name..where you been at all my life?" He says. Being that I was at work and never find it amusing when men of any caliber hit on me for any reason as ALL, I ignored his comment, hoping he would take the hint or assume I was 50 years old and married with kankles. However, he continued.

"Can you hold the line, little mama I gotta get this dude off the other line, he trippin." He states before placing me on hold. A woman comes to line, and I'm assuming she is taking over the call. The phrase, "Calls may be recorded for quality assurance" really has meaning! But she only came on the line to re-verify my info. She places me on hold, then I'm promptly returned to JJ from Good Times.

"Hey I'm back. That chick is trippin, next time they let someone else pick up your line let them know you want to talk to me."

After a shower of words and phrases commonly found in 'Mo' Urban Dictionary' he finally confirmed my reason for calling and took care of business. I quickly got off the line.

Being black is not a gimmick. It's not a hat, or a cape. It's a race. It doesn't make you exempt from being professional at work. It's not a way to make the white folks laugh. We are decedents of Kings and Queens. Let's not play the role of 'jester'.

This posting may seem a bit dramatic, but please note I had this phone call right after reading this:

http://perezhilton.com/2008-10-08-conspicuous-consumption-rollin-in-it

Humpty Dumpty

Ugh...I'm FAT.

My Mom is Going to Hate This...

Contrary to my mother's belief, I don't just think Brad Pitt is a womanizing, degenerate. In a single shot Brad Pitt managed to be; economical, democratic, literate and insanely attractive in this photo taken of him in New Orleans today (yes, that is an Obama sticker on his notebook):

Grow Up, Grown Ups...

I know that compared to most people, I’m considerably young. I’m not even technically in my mid-twenties yet. Unmarried, no kids; pretty much carefree. I'm still at that point were acting recklessly, is not only acceptable but expected of me, whether or not I choose to. Which I don’t. My taste in a lot of things, reflects my age and personality. I’m never going to sport neon pink tights and a mini skirt to work, and I don’t listen to Chris Brown. But I still get drunk at parties (hence the nick name “Smashley”), and I have been known to stay out until just a few hours before it’s time to go to work. I’m 24 years young; but far from a teenager. (Thank God).

Not everyone, understands how old they are. Like today for example. I’m on the train to work, and about to crack open a Jhumpa Lahiri novel when the silence was invaded by Keyshia Cole. I turned to see who the offender was, and there stood a 45-year old man, dressed in an over sized Rocawear t-shirt (mind you it’s 55 degrees outside) and baggy pants. He was bobbing his head aggressively to “Let it Go”. He might as well have had his iPod hooked up to speakers as loud as his headphones were blaring. I cringed at the thought of what he might be doing to his, probably already failing hearing ability. He looked old enough to be my father, and he was making a complete idiot out of himself. Turn the shit down, and at least dress like you have a job.

I see this all the time. D and I have a running joke about grown people who have a SideKick. A device designed to make parents spend $400 on a phone for their high schoolers. It’s not practical for anyone over the age of 20 MAYBE 21. If you want an over sized, overpriced, overrated cell phone, get a Blackberry. Or an iPhone. But it’s not just cell phones that I see grown adults holding onto, it’s the whole mentality. Bashing enemies on Myspace, using their headlines as picket signs. Stuffing their two-kid having asses into shrunken, stone washed pairs of skinny-jeans. This might be innocent behavior if it didn’t effect the kids these people have so much. I can count on both hands the number of times I’ve seen a young (but not so young) mother on the train toting around her four kids well past 3 or 4 am.

I know it’s hard to tell where the line is drawn between completely carefree youth to young adulthood. I know we would all like to go back to a time when all we had to do was wake up, pay attention and do home work. But just let that go an embrace whats before you. Real life. The unbridled, uncensored life that is adulthood. Give it a try, otherwise your going to end up looking life this at 50:

Reflections of a Mended Heart

Some days, certain things bring remembrance. The smell of an empty perfume bottle, an old cd you haven’t listened to in years or an old pair of jeans you used to wear relentlessly. For me, and my most recent heartache, it’s listening to John Mayer (no laughing). Before I left California, I’d listen to his album, Continuum, every day on the way to work. Riding on the BART with my own noisy silence, watching the sun come up from the platform in Hayward. I’d think about so much on that ride to work. Mostly D. About how we’d gotten to the point where we barely knew each other and I was packing boxes. Everything felt very cold and torn apart. Every day felt like walking into an empty room and sitting on the floor.

Now, I’m at my desk flipping through songs on my iPod and “Dreaming with a Broken Heart” comes on. The only part of me that feels that cold, empty feeling again is the part that recalls the pain we both went through during those months. But I also feel so happy, because we got through so much, that I know we can get through anything. I know that we can make it through a lot of crazy stuff, and I know inevitably that crazy stuff will come. I know that we love each other, not because it’s easy but because it’s natural. Now I can listen to sappy, slow music without shedding a tear. Looking back, I don’t regret much about both of our decisions. I kind of regret listening to John Mayer every morning though.

Insomnia (again)

I was chatting with my sister on IM yesterday when she mentioned she was sleep deprived. I told her to try Unisom, then Ambien as if I were some kind of sleep-guru. In reality, I've been sleep deprived for weeks now. Its obvious in almost every aspect of my life. I haven't properly blogged in a while, haven't written a single word for my book, I've been dressing very much unlike myself (the other day I actually wore tennis shoes in public...TENNIS SHOES!!) and to top it off, I've been rushing out the door to work; sans pre-packed lunch, book and fully charged iPod and usually about 10 minutes later than I should be leaving. I stomp down the block towards the subway swearing to myself the oath of all oaths that I will go home immediately after work and crash. I ride the train, head bobbing then falling then shooting back up at each stop. Eyes puffy and bare of any definition (mostly because I've been leaving void of eye liner. For a woman with eyes of my caliber, this is a sin). I waft through my day, mystified and full to the brim with flavored coffee. Then when I come home, I seem to fall into a different routine. Mind numbing nothingness. I tinker with my online classes, for the moment feeling quite productive. Then I sort of just remain. I watch a little Hulu. I take a shower and then IM D for a while. Somehow time flies and suddenly it's 2 am, and I'm so tired I can barely keep my head up. 4 hours later I fight a loosing battle with my snooze button and finally emerge and do the whole thing over again. It's not until Saturday morning that I actually get to sleep. Of course this is not what I'd like my Saturday's to be about. I'd like to rise early (meaning between 8 and 10am), go for a long jog, clean up, maybe head over to the book store and pick up some new books, go to the market and get some fruit...you know...productive things. Instead I can be found under a mound of tussled blankets, probably snoring, silk scarf inevitably in disarray and falling off my head; waking up occasionally only to use the bathroom. Then it's mid-day, or late afternoon and my motivation to do anything has been sucked dry.

This pattern has got to stop. I don't know how, or what the first thing to change should be. But I'm a walking zombie. A bubble simply floating with no direction or mission other then to dwell and possibly rest before bursting into tiny drops of water. A bit dramatic, I know. But that's how I feel. It's like Ed Norton said in one of my favorite movies, Fight Club; "With insomnia, nothings real. Every thing's far away, every thing's a copy.." I feel like a little faded copy of myself these days. The real me is still stuck in the copier resting on the plate glass, waiting to be picked up. Save me.