Nothing, Nevermind.

I know I can be pretty vague when it comes to blog posts...usually it's because I'm trying to spare some one's (or several people's) feelings... But the question as of late seems to be "Are you going to NYC?"

New York was never a question. Ever since my room mate from hell conjured up the idea of leaving my California life behind and starting anew in the big city...New York has become a part of my salvation. Almost like a safety blanket. When I left CA, I was also running away from D...the man I could never understand...and who could never really understand me. Then New York became the thing that took me from my family and this man I gave up on too fast. I returned to him...but somewhere along the way realized that I had left out of fear. Fear of loosing him, fear of taking on more than I could handle...fear of being broke. I looked around Houston and it hit me like a ton of bricks... "Hell no.." it said, "wrong city, bitch."

So I made my plans of escape. Back to New York...back to my BFF...back to Brooklyn and crazy weather and incredible nights out and snow boots and subways. I had absolutely nothing distracting me as I piled my things onto a truck and moved into my temporary apartment in Houston. All I had to do was wait it out.

Nothing is ever that simple. Between falling back in love with my ex (Valentine- who lives in California), recently loosing my Grams and missing the crap out of my family...suddenly I wondered if New York was the right choice after all. Career-wise it was the smartest move I could pull. But what about my heart? Asking Valentine to come with me seemed like the best thing to do. But what if he doesn't go? As he teeters on the edge of yes or no...I'm stuck in limbo. Do I put New York on hold and soak up family and love...possibly (and finally) having my own little world with someone who really understands me? Or do I stay the nomadic girl I've always seemed to be...shrugging off my feelings and keeping my tires pointed East?

It's because of this dilemma that I say "Meh" when people ask me when or where I'm moving. It's because of this that once again I feel like an old CD that keeps skipping right before the outro. I'm torn between love of self and love of others. Between needing this man in my life and needing to stick to my plan... Either way I'm leaving Houston in 28 days.

(©2009 Lotus B.)

Let the Insomnia Begin

I'm vulnerable. And 15 minutes ago I told my ex (Valentine) he could come by my mom's. He called last night and left a message, his voice trembling from the news. He knew I was in pain. And he told me things I forgot as soon as they hit my ear drum because my mind couldn't hold them, but their rhythm...their tone was translated as comfort. I appreciate it, even though it doesn't change what happened between us. I guess yesterday I kind of wished I had a man to hold me. Even if it's by the arms of a man I left behind. Belonging to no one makes this feeling suck worse. And I know the silence of Houston will drive me insane.

I'll soak up noise while I have it.

(©2009 Lotus B.)

My Exegesis

Due in part to spending the past few days with a truly genuine man and comparing that to someone who I have slowly come to see as highly deceitful; I've decided to use my creative license and ever so liberally anonymously bash an ex-friend of mine.

Why do men cheat? Why betray someone who loves and adores in exchange fore a few forgettable moments of pleasure? Some might mystify the dirty facts and blow fairy dust on the truth to make it seem more noble than it is. But the fact of the matter is that men (or anyone) will cheat because they are ass holes. Because they're childish. Because they're scared and insecure. Because they have no idea who or what they are and need approval from people they know they haven't damaged (yet). Because they think they are the grand exception to the rule, and somehow don't have to answer to the petty guidelines that others try to abide by.

I had the "pleasure" of feeling the respect I once had for someone slowly drain out of my body and die because he can't seem to keep his dick in his pants. I had one of those epiphanies where I saw his truth in a flash of light as if I were giving a long speech in front of a crowd of people; suddenly chuckling to myself as I so vividly pictured them all naked. I hate it when people become laughable.

Well, friend, you are just that. Laughable. I genuinely hope you wake up and realize that an apology IS needed. You SHOULD be ashamed. You SHOULD get on your knees and thank the stars that someone who hasn't realized how much better than you they are has allowed you a second chance. You wreak of self-importance. Stop being so fucking pompous. It's unattractive and you can't carry it off.

Now, back to your regularly scheduled programming.

(©2009 Lotus B.)

So Long, Farewell

It was a nice (and kind of adorable) little run we had.

But now it's over.

I've calculated in my mind that I've broken up with 27 men in the last 13 years of my dating life. Sometimes they're the ones who pull the plug, sometimes I am. I think either way it's usually me doing it somehow.

Most recently, it was someone I actually had a lot of fun with. Someone I thought I had enough in common with to actually be intrigued on a pretty constant basis. He made the break up with D seem less like a terrorist attack on my heart and more like life just slowly changing. He wasn't a rebound, just a good guy.

But that's all behind us now, and we decided to end it last night. Which is fine. It was going to end anyway come January. I already started to get used to that one. In a way it was silly of us to indulge in the whole thing as long as we did. But this sort of thing has a way of just making sense until it doesn't anymore.

(©2009 Lotus B.)

4 Gentlemen & A Lady

It's quite possible, that I am more single now than I have ever been. It feels like there is no one, not even anyone who is just genuinely my friend within a 2,000 mile radius. Ironically...my ex-boyfriend is moving to Houston next week. Oz and I have grown a bit distant but are still friends, D and I have settled into ex-friendship (a hybrid of rebounding with your ex on a platonic level), and someone I've known nearly a decade (which feels like my entire life), whom I never really dated but have always thought the world of is coming to town next week as well. In a sense...I will be a totally single woman surrounded by 4 ex's starting next week. FOUR.

Does that seem fair?

I relayed this fact to my sister over the phone the other day and for a second she wreaked of jealousy. She, who is happily married to my brother (in-law) whom everyone adores, and who adores her to no end. The two of them are in the "process" of attempting procreation and embarking on the next glorious phase of life where you start to truly become an adult for the sake of a new little life. As she envied me, I was envying her in return.

Of course, I'm more than aware that I'm in no position to have what she has. For the most obvious reason, which is that I have absolutely no permanent prospects. Not that I want any, but I can allow my mind to wander on the subject a bit....at least for the purpose of this blog post.

It's not a secret that I'm in the very least NEARING that part of my life. After all I was perfectly prepared to marry D, have his children and start a real life with him. If it weren't for the un-ignorable components of our relationship that were tragically missing, we would probably be planning a wedding right now. I was ready... just not ready to settle and make someone else settle for something that wasn't right. I refuse to commit to someone that I have to squint at in order to see them as perfect and who does the same of me. Smearing all the jagged lines, and pretending a blurry version of each other is good enough. No thank you. I'm not looking for perfection, but I would like perfection's half brother. Distant cousin, perhaps.

So from time to time, and as the "Engaged" announcements continue to fill up my Facebook page, I do feel that pang in the depths of my stomach. It reminds me that I'm at a very exciting place in my life. I'm single. Single in that REALLY single way. Where I am not obligated to anyone or anything but myself. On the other hand, I know I CAN be in a relationship. I'm capable of being with one person, if he's the right one, and making something work and possibly building up to what me and D almost had and beyond what it should have been.

In the mean time, I kind of get to just be me again. Sure, these last few months in Houston will be kind of a bore. But once I get back to New York, I'll have school to look forward to. Setting up the new website with Tia, partying and meeting new people, writing, kissing the air in Brooklyn and whatever else might come my way. I'm looking forward to FINALLY, after a long time of holding my feet in the air...planting some roots that I might want to share with someone one day.

(©2009 Lotus B.)

This Is It

Last night after coming home from work, I changed quickly into my favorite jeans, patchwork faux python sandals and my favorite purple sweater and waited for D to pick me up. We were on our way to go see This Is It , the proclaimed last performance of Michael Jackson. I had my doubts, assuming it would be nothing more than cheaply done, rushed footage of things Michael probably didn't even want anyone to see. But our mood was pretty light as we caught up with each other's lives in the car on the way over, found a parking spot and headed into the theater.

I'll admit that I wasn't overly surprised that the theater was only two-thirds full, and that some woman with a bad weave job fell asleep half way through the movie, making me feel really bad for her poor date who brought the most boring woman in the world to dinner theater. I have been to maybe 10 or so clubs in Houston, 5 or 6 lounges and countless movies....there never really is a crowed in very many places from what I've seen.

The beginning of the movie was Micheal's dancers talking into the camera about how grateful they were to have the opportunity to work with Jackson. I could tell it was filmed after he died, because most of them couldn't hold it together enough to finish their sentences and it was also very delicately scripted. My expectations for the movie suddenly fell towards the floor.

But then Micheal got on stage. I never realized how extensive rehearsal was for live concerts. Micheal was singing in his flawlessly vibrato voice, and dancing across the stage as if his shoes were dipped in oil. 50 years old, months away from his final breath and he was just a kid again putting on a show.

Going to see this movie, you have to take it for what it is; a marketing scheme. Jackson left a large amount of debt, and in that way I wonder if he'd even be upset about the footage being put in theaters. After all, I'm sure he didn't want to leave his family with that much debt. But aside from all that, the movie is also a tribute to his fans. Its proof that Micheal lit up when he was on stage, that he was a big kid at heart, that he loved nature and the world and that music meant everything to him. He knew every beat of every song, every chord, every rip, every note. He seemed to be taken back to his childhood when he performed a few Jackson 5 numbers, loosing his voice suddenly and looking as if he could barely make it through the song. But he knew every step of the dances and performed them as if his legs were on strings and his body was transported to the hay-day of his childhood career.

Bottom line, don't see this movie if you don't want to support the exploitation of Micheal's fame in order to pay off his enormous debt. But...see this movie if you just want to walk away from Micheal Jackson's legacy knowing that he was in fact an entertainer and, still could wipe the floor with any of the so-called "pop stars" of today.

Good for him.




(©2009 Lotus B.)

"When Do You Ever Enjoy Your Life"...he said

I've found that one of the most tiring efforts one can possibly ferret after is the approval of others. Aside from the fact that it's painfully pathetic, it's also virtually impossible to have EVERY ONE'S approval. Every one in their own individual complex lives, with their own stupid idiosyncrasies and imperfections has an ideal about life that is as diverse as a thumbprint. One person's mathematical equation is another's aesthete rhythmic prose.

So more and more, when people begin to paint their approval or disapproval onto my skin I immediately shutter. Like last night when a new acquaintance of mine asked if I wanted to get out with him and have a drink. "Nope" I said, "I have to work tonight and be up early tomorrow." Work, at that moment meant write. I was chasing after a 12000 word project for a publisher in Oregon and working on the details of a site Tia and I hope to have up in the next few months. Being "up early tomorrow" was so I could be at work-work on time. The work-work that pays my bills and will ultimately fund my escape form cowboy central and back to regular society where I belong. My new acquaintance scoffed at my tight-lipped response, "When do you ever enjoy life? I'm flying to NYC this weekend to see if the Yankees win..."

Blank stare.

Side eye.

His assumptions were suddenly suffocating me. The gull of someone who hardly knows me at all to first assume that I don't "enjoy" my life, and secondly assume that what I was doing at the moment wasn't bringing me any pleasure. Not that I orgasm with every sentence, but writing is like breathing for me, like therapy. 12000 words is definitely intimidating, but at that moment I wouldn't had preferred to be anywhere else but in front of my laptop letting my head pour into a Word doc. I wanted to tell him all of this, but realized there was no point. His idea of enjoying his life was simply and at this time in my life, different than my own. He wanted to go out on a Thursday night and get drunk. Doing that would have been pointless for me on at least three separate levels. As for his NYC comment.... part from not being a Yankee's fan (go A's!!) I'd much rather LIVE in New York than visit. But that's my ideal, not his.

I simply replied, that I do in fact enjoy my life and that I hope he has fun in NY. I went back to what I was doing and laughed to myself. True, it's slightly out of my MO to turn down drinks on any night of the week (flashback of nursing a horrible hang over on the subway to work after 30 minutes of sleep). But I'm too far gone, folks. I have a mission and it's in sight now. I don't want to waste a moment on anything that doesn't have to do with writing, or getting the fuck out of Houston.

(©2009 Lotus B.)

The Most Awkward Conversation in the World

A few days ago D and I made it official.

That's right folks, after much deliberation we are in fact totally and 100% EX's.

What made our "divorce" official?

That awkward conversation you have with someone you recently broke up with where there is more than just a hint passed between the two of you that you have both definitely slept with other people since the separation.

And it's OK!

I mean hey....he's perfectly entitled.  As am I.

I mean...heh...that's what BREAKIN up is about, right?

Sewing the, uh..wild oats an' shit.

Good for him.

Good for me.

Boy..... this feels GREAAT.



(©2009 Lotus B.)

Theory of Evolution

I know that if I step back from the canvas and take in the entire scope of the story, I am only at the beginning. There is so much that is hard to see right now. I know that "this too shall pass" and before I know it I'll be painting the walls of my new apartment in Brooklyn, and taking bitter cold walks to Tia's house for wine and chit chat like before. I know I'll look back on this and think of how grateful I am that I was such a hanger-on-er. But right now, for this moment and for the few days immediately surrounding me, I am miserable. From the cockroach invasions to some of the country-ass social retards I deal with at work, to the bittersweet awfulness of living so close to Desman and so far from my family. It's times like these a girl like me needs to make a few simple lists:

Things That Make Me Miserable:

1. The girl at work who thinks I'm an idiot and doesn't realize I'm just more polite than she.
2. When D acts like we're strangers.
3. The fact that we actually ARE strangers.
4. My hair…I never should have straightened it.
5. Those disgusting cockroaches that crawl around all over the fucking place.
6. How being "different" isn't considered a commodity here (in this city).
7. The girl at work who is painfully afflicted with diarrhea of the mouth (different girl).
8. Hurricane Season.
9. Not having a car or access to a convenient transportation system anymore.
10. Weather that feels like living inside a whore's vagina.  

Things That I'm Grateful For:

1. The ability to write about any and everything that is on my mind (publically or privately).
2. An amazing best friend who keeps me sane.
3. An apartment in Brooklyn that is mine for the taking. 
4. A pretty face. 
5. A mother who (and I've checked into this) is the BEST kind of mother to have. 
6. The learned ability to give things a try before I dismiss them. 
7. My blackberry. 
8. A place to rest my head, cook my meals and read my books. 
9. Ossie's return home this Sunday. 
10. My guts…which will allow me the nerve to chop my hair off again (coming soon!). 
11. A job that pays me well enough to live, save, and occasionally enjoy myself. 
12. A detachment with the shitty worldly things that turn people into animals. 
13. My confidence in my personal belief system; there is a God and she is everywhere. 
14. Vegetarianism; we live longer and apparently taste better… 
15. The 50% off coupon I got in the mail for Adam & Eve dot com…. (Google it if you don't know). 
16. The left over Chinese take out I plan on murdering when I get home today…Lo Mein is my boyfriend. 

So I guess, as long as my list of crummy shit is shorter than my list of fab shit, I'll be ok. True, at this moment…I kind of half want to quit my job and run out into the street screaming "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore!"….but I also half want to close my eyes for a second and tell myself how strong I am and tell myself I've been through worse and hope that my mother is right about all this; that all the miserable crap is really just to shape us into better people.

(©2009 Lotus B.)

Giant Cockroach Resurrected

A peace had finally fallen upon my apartment here in Houston.  I was no longer tearing apart my entire bathroom before taking a shower every morning.  The giant can of RAID was placed back under my kitchen sink and I was starting to feel like me again.  After the last cockroach episode, it was nice to finally stop living in fear. 

The other night I came home and decided to tidy up a bit before company came by. I vacuumed, dusted, washed some clothes and did the little things I'd been eying all week but couldn't stop to do.  When I was finally finished I was ready for a long hot shower to wash away the day and the smell of Lysol on my skin.  

You see where this is going....

No sooner had I pushed back my lavender shower curtain did I see it hovering above me like Satan's own diabolical pet.  This one was ENORMOUS.  At least 3 inches long with a scowl I swear I could see with my own little eyes.  I looked at him, he looked at me.  There I was once again, terrified in my own bathroom wearing my birthday suit frozen from the sheer idea of having another cockroach invasion.  

I bolted out of the bathroom.  Again I was screaming bloody murder as I ran through my entire apartment.  Again I grabbed my boobs as the deathly sounds of terror came spilling out like a war horn.

I ran back to the bathroom and stood just outside the door, peering in while whimpering, tears now streaming down my cheeks.  "Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehhhh" was all I could manage to say in a desperate whisper.

There it was above my shower, not caring about the state of panic he had thrown me into. Then I realized, I was actually panicking.  This was no normal reaction.  I was shaking uncontrollably, my head was getting light, my limbs were cold and numb and suddenly my heart felt like it was going to explode.  DAMN IT, I thought to myself....I'm having a fucking panic attack!!  I tried to breathe calmly, empty my mind and think of a safe place. There I was, with my hands in the air (a trick I use to keep them from going numb) telling myself that I was in the shoe department of Barney's New York (one of my safe places).  

After catching my breath and still not taking my eyes off the disgusting creature in my bathroom, I ran to the kitchen and got my handy-dandy bottle of bug spray.  I let loose on that thing with the vengeance of a disgruntled housewife.  I screamed, "Die! Die! Die!" as it flew from the wall to my shower curtain and somehow managed to retract inside itself, shrinking it's body in half and becoming a fat bug ball glistening in the rain of my constant spray of poison.  It was the most disgusting thing I'd ever seen before my eyes.  It was clinging from my shower curtain.  No signs of life, no signs of death....just this ambiguous presence.  My gaze still firmly on the roach I felt around the carpet for my pants, then my tank top...then my cell phone.

I called my friend who was on his way to my house.  "Ho...how close are you to my house?"

"Like 30 or 45 minutes...why?"

"Remember when that roach ....there's a roach...I have a...a...a...there's a thing in my bathroom."  

He laughed.

"Well kill it..."  I love it how people who don't have these fears of insects or spiders make little helpful suggestions like that.  How easy it must be to live in their world without fear of giant cockroaches that might possibly crawl into your bed at night and lay eggs in your hair.

"I sprayed it...but I don't know if it's dead."

"Well spray it some more then."

"I ran out."

After hanging up with Mr. Helpful, I called my other friend...who could help me even less being that he lives in California.  At least he shared in my disgust.

"Eeeeeeeew," he said coughing back the image I'd placed in his head. "That’s nasty, man....kill that mufucka!!"

"It's LOOKING AT ME!!"  I shouted falling back into panic.  

A half hour later, I'd become a ball of submission on the floor outside my bathroom, still staring at the roach who I'd now named Ernie, when my friend finally knocked on my door.  He stepped inside, put his Jack in the Box bag down on the kitchen counter, drew two sheets of paper towel and stepped into the bathroom.  He admittedly agreed the sucker was pretty huge, then calmly grabbed it in the paper towel (a crunching sound was heard) and flushed it down the toilet.  He washed his hands, and then looked at me as if I were some kind of insane person.  

Still, days later as I sit relaying this horrific story to you all, a part of me can’t help but feel a little sad for Ernie...having to die like that while being screamed at by a naked black girl grabbing her boobs in terror. May he rest in peace.

(©2009 Lotus B.)

A Giant Cock...

Short story, won't take long:

I woke up this morning feeling pretty refreshed. I had a nice long 8 hours, and before that an awesome dinner consisting of all my favorite vegetables and a new kind of lemon tofu I was trying out. I already knew what I was going to wear; the whisper blue slacks I hadn't worn in months and my favorite puff sleeve black sweater (its cold in my office). All was right with the world.

I walked into my bathroom and turned on the shower. As I waited for the water to turn hot, I pulled out my new clay face wash and mask that I'd gotten from Organics and smeared it all over my cheeks laughing at my crisp white face in the mirror. Ahhhhh, Wednesdays, I thought to myself.

I turned to step into the shower when all of the sudden a giant cockroach the size of two conjoined black olives scattered from the drain pipe and started bolting up the tile in my shower.

Blood curdling screech.

More screeching.

Running out of the bathroom screeching.

Then into the kitchen, clutching my boobs as if they could save me.

There was not a man in sight. All I had in my defense was an extra large can of Ant & Roach spray that I bought when D accidentally brought me over a baby roach infested bag of rice (which I forced him to drive all the way back and dispose of).

I held that can of Raid as if it were my only hope of infinite life in the face of Armageddon. I doused the criminal with the Raid and screeched as it fell to it's doom in the half water-filled tub. I watched as it struggled and twitched in the water, then gave up and let death rescue him from his misery. I was triumphant.

"You know roaches can hold their breath under water." Tim said this morning after I replayed my horrific bathroom battle to him while we stepped into the elevator.

"I know.....
........like....for how long?"

On Selling My Soul...

I sat nervously in the salon chair waiting to be helped. I seemed to be reading every other word of my book, looking away every few seconds to check and see nothing in particular. I could still back out...nothing had been done yet. But I rationalized that after combing through my thick mess of kinky curls that morning in the shower, seeing the hair appointment through was the least I could do. Besides..I was bored. Bored with my hair and ready for a change. Yes, natural hair is the best hair-choice, yes it looks hot (on me at least), yes I received hoards of compliments from women who said they didn't have the ovaries to do the big chop and go nappy...but I had seen and sufficiently conquered. I missed headbands. I missed fedoras. I missed having fingers run through my hair and wind for that matter. So when Deborah, the stylist walked over and stuck her thick fingers into my jungle coif and asked me if I was sure I wanted to relax it...I said yes with all the fake determination I could muster. Like so many good decisions I've made in my life...this one was made with shaky hands.



There is something about hair that holds so much power over your spirit. A new hair cut to me is as transforming as moving a few pieces of furniture around or trying a new concealer. The smallest detail and suddenly your a whole new you. We humans are simple, I suppose. Although the power of change is within us whenever we choose to summon it, we seem to prefer visual starting points and ending points. We have a thousand first days of the rest of our lives.



In that sense, the "press n curl" came at just the right moment. I had (once again) made a decision no one expected. I decided to stay in Houston...at least for a little while longer. Long enough to get enough air in my lungs to breathe and enough space around my head to let my congested thoughts spread out a bit. Space was the common theme. After it was all over, I looked in the mirror so closely, it was as if I was trying to look directly into my own head. I just wanted to see my roots again, now smooth and shiny. I ran my fingers through my hair and let it fall back around my face. My hair breathed, then I breathed and I felt justified in my little crime.

The Ultimate Vegetarian Nachos...

I told Oz today while balancing my cell between my face and shoulder, and grabbing bags of supplies from the front seat of the car, that I had woke up this morning thinking about making some awesome vegetarian nachos.

"You must be an empty-headed person..." he said.

Touche.

The reality of it is I woke up this morning with SO MUCH more than just making nachos on my mind. Between my family, school, work, moving, D, my friends, my money, my writing and the intense pain I've had in my back for weeks now, I was completely drowning in thought. The sun was blazing through my window but the air had been on all night and the temperature was perfect. My bed felt inviting and soft and it tempted me to sleep in even later than I already had (11:30 am). Instead, I decided to push all those nasty "grown up" thoughts out of my head, wake the hell up and just make some awesome nachos.

The problem is whenever you get nachos your left at the mercy of the venue. Limited to their ideals and preference. Some people consider nachos to be some crusty tortilla chips smothered in melted American cheese (you'll find this strain mostly in bowling alleys and ballparks). Some places make awesome nachos....cheese, jalapenos, guacamole...the works. However in my experience, the people who make the best nachos usually top it all of with chicken, pig or cow. Three things I don't consume. So today instead of sitting and write angrily in my journal about the desperation I feel inside or the admission I made last night which I swore I'd never tell anyone or the fact that I have to move (again) although it's dreaded and sometimes feels like a bad decision; I simply made nachos. I made them with a big goofy smile on my face. And I made them with soy beef.

They were so delicious that D, who had already eaten decided to help me finish them off. They were so good, that I forgot to snap a picture of them before they were completely devoured.

Mmmmm....denial tastes like happiness.

She Wanted Him to Love Her...

At the end of the day, even though I'm totally fine with myself and my life and the choices I've decided to make recently; I can't help but be a little sad.

Sometimes I crack jokes about it, or talk about it nonchalantly, but the fact remains, I don't think it's entirely fair that I came all this way for love, with the fire of passion and devotion on my heels and was greeted by a luke-warm version of the person who told me I should come. I'm not into mincing words tonight. It's late and my music idol died today...I'm pissed that D is just a jack ass.

Every ounce of emotion that I craved so much from him felt like squeezing juice from a rock. Trying to wiggle my way inside and understand his inner workings. After 4 years...I still have no idea.

Every time, even now, that I reach out in some profound way....I snatch back a nub. What's so wrong with loosing yourself in love? What are people so afraid of that they chose to over think something as organic as LOVE?

I know it's a tad tasteless to be this specific about the details of my personal relationship on a blog that gets read by total strangers. But it doesn't matter...because the person it's about has never found it necessary to read any of this.

I guess this is my 'Waiting to Exhale' moment...the one I should have had months ago when we broke up. Instead I'm having it now. It's taking all of my power not to get up from this chair, walk down the hall and put a pillow over D's gaping mouth and suffocate him the way he's suffocated me.

Fuck this place and everything in it.

Monday Gives Me Shingles

I'm basically speechless, or whatever the equivalent of "speechless" is in relation to not knowing what to write. Wordless, blog-content-less...

If my life were a fruit right now, it would be a watermelon. With awkward seeds to spit out and that inconsistent grainy taste.

Between a Rock and Hard Place

So it's Wednesday and yes, I'm back in Houston. For now. The sun is beating down on me as if it has some kind of vendetta, and again...the silence is killing me. My first day back in NY I walked around Manhattan near 34th street where my old job was. I wanted to smack myself for getting down there so late, too late to go up and say hi to anyone. But I went into the stores and into my old Starbucks. My favorite Batista wasn't there, but it still felt good to ask for my "grande triple soy latte". The noise, the cabby that screamed at me because Atlantic avenue was closed (and apparently this was my fault).

The drunk guys at Toastie's who kept asking to bum one of my American Spirits (yes I smoke occasionally in NY...fuck off), the women in their awesome outfits, the metro-sexual men with gorgeous accents and leather scuffed boots leaning casually against train poles reading books no one has ever heard of. The drop dead gorgeous Black British man sitting across from me on the Q who asked me about the tattoo on my foot then showed me his (boy did he). Then he pulled back his dirty bandanna revealing a head of lustrous brown hair that fell around his shoulders. I would have thrown my vagina at him, if not for his next comment, "I just got done doing my community service..." I didn't hear the rest...I decided not to involve myself with one of Riker Island's newest "graduates".

The trip was fabulous, the shopping divine, but more than anything, I was swimming in my own peace of mind. Waking up with the city at my fingertips, being around millions of people who generally take life in stride. People who don't have to "live for the weekend", people who take pride in taking pride. So it was definitely a vacation in every sense of the word.

Now that I'm back it feels like I've been sucking on a sugar cube for 6 days and now have to eat an onion. Not that it's awful here, but it just made me realize how much of myself is...not here. When I got in on Monday I looked around the house. Pictures had been moved, the couch was scooted closer to the TV. Things that represented D's lifestyle. Minor, I know, but when your walking into a house that is not yours, in a neighborhood that has no personality in a city that you have nothing in common with...little things like that tend to make you grip your arms, rub the back of your neck and submit yourself to tears. I was just thankful to be alone at the moment.

Neither Here Nor There (Sunday's Reflections...

What do you do when you have no idea, anymore, of where you belong? Not just mentally, but physically...geographically. How do you figure that out? Keep searching? Go back to the beginning? Give in?

I know that's an intense idea. A little deep for a Sunday. Or maybe not. This is the day of reflection, no? Everyone does their unwindings on Sunday, so I did a few. I guess when I really think about it, I don't know much about where I belong. The only insight I have is that I know where I don't belong. I don't belong somewhere quiet. I don't belong somewhere apprehensive or passive. I don't belong anywhere that bares more clouds than sun. Take that how you will.

I miss my family. I will admit to that. There has been something pulling at me to go back.

Uptown Hookering & Why I'm Glad I'm 25

My friend Ashley and I went out Friday night with two separate hopes in mind. One; that our respective basketball teams (she, the Rockets and I, the Lakers) would win game 3. And of course two; to have fun after the game.

After hitting up the Daily Grill at the Galleria, we went back to a spot we'd already established to be sufficiently chill, Uptown Hookah. Despite the fact that the name makes it sound like it's sponsored by Wal-Mart. Despite the fact that the inside has been virtually EMPTY both times we've gone. Despite the fact that the only place you can actually smoke is outside, where the sweltering humidity and heat practically take your breath away....where was I? Anyway, the hookah part was cool and so was our waiter, Jason, who was a thick mess of muscles, dread locks, tattoos and boyish grins.... Needless to say Uptown was deserving of a second trip.

After ordering two shots of Patron and a bubblegum & blueberry Rum hookah, Ash and I wandered into the back patio to find some seats. The only spot available was an unnecessarily large gazebo area with two couches and a few chairs placed around marble tables. Even though it was far too large for just the two of us, it was the only spot outside with it's own private fan, so I quickly scooped it up.

20 minutes or so after our hookah arrived, Ashley left to go to the restroom and a kid who looked no older than 18 came by and asked me who else we were waiting for. He said he had a whole party of people and no where to sit. I looked over his "party"....they all looked like a bunch of youngsters. But instead of being a grump about it, I told him my friend went to the restroom and I'd let her decide. When she came back they followed, so I assumed she'd said "yes".

At first it was cool. Even though they were all a bit rowdy. I found out the guy who had asked me if they could join was D. Lee, and even though I can't stand it when people introduce themselves with nicknames, I smiled and said nice to meet you. The only reason I remember his name, is because he was "from Oakland". Although I doubted whether of not he was actually from there. He claimed to have been in Houston for 8 years, but also claimed to have attended Skyline High. Unless he was my age (doubtful) or started high school at the age of 12, I highly doubted that could be true. He also "tested" my Oakland roots by saying, "Yahdiddahh"....which is something I was never in the habit of saying regardless of the fact that Oakland is my hometown. I assessed that he'd listened to way too much Mac Dre and Too Short and that he'd probably only spent a few years in the Bay and it rubbed off too much. The rest of his friend's names I don't recall.

Before two of them departed, a guy who claimed to be an actor but who I assumed was just behind on his Ritalin and his girlfriend, Jasmine stopped in the middle of the outside patio. The guy went down on one knee and mumbled inaudible things that caused the girl to blush. Suddenly I heard, "Will you marry me" and everyone outside cheered and clapped. I was wondering what kind of an asshole proposes to his girlfriend at Uptown Hookah, without a ring...?

I kept drinking...

Before the night was through I'd secured two numbers for future references, should I have a need for whatever Houston considers to be "fire". I left that night feeling like I'd definitely past the point of being in the rowdy group. I had fun. The kind of fun you don't expect but go along with because you need to relax and laugh. Maybe it was a little embarrassing to have the entire restaurant's attention be turned to our table while the kids whooped and hollered over- I forget what. I'm glad I'm past that age of needless attention grabbing, but it was fun to re-visit it. All in all, I'm a little done with the consistently empty Uptown Hookah spot, but at least I know there is more to do in Houston than cow-tip and watch the sorry ass Rockets scramble for a second win. *Ha ha*

I still miss NYC.

Lakers v. Rockets

Um....sorry Houstonians...but that ass (or should I say "cow hide") is gonna get whooped tomorrow night..

...And I'll be there, cup in hand, at the sports bar cheering them on to victory!!!

Getttum' Kobe!!

Gonna Start Doin Crack....

Over the past few years, I've been in total awe of the new developments in technology. The economically kind cars, the websites that make your life easier (Thank you Fresh Direct..!) the advancements in medicine, even the flying car passing it's safty test recently. One thing, however, that I've steered clear of is the Blackberry.

Why you ask?

Well aside from the fact that I thought it looked strange to have a laptop-sized mobile device planted at the side of your face, and the fact that I never needed that much information to be at my finger tips at any given moment, I was also just plain intimidated by the thing. The small buttons, the thousands of features, the mandatory data pack...it all wisked over my head...WHHOOOSH.

Anyway, with all of the things I'm trying to balence here in Houston; social clubs, stylist business, doctor appointments, school, work, D, I figured getting electronically organized would be a good move.

So I am here by going to be a Blackberry user. Ugh....I'm already browsing eBay like a zombie searching for the perfect SwarovskiCrystal Hello Kitty hard case...