There comes a time in every man's life
"I think I want to live with my dad." I always knew that the day would come where he would need more than I could give him as a mother and a mentor. I'm glad it happened before he was Read more
She's not on the bus.
People come in all shapes and sizes. I won’t ignore the growing obesity rate in the United States. Something really needs to be done about it. I don’t believe in hating who you are. Be happy, but when you know better, do better. That applies to all aspects of life, including your health. That being said, some of us are fat NOW, and in navigating public transportation, we must live by a certain code. Read more
When I had you, Baby Bird, you were such a princess. I remember how you would curl up into my arms and snuggle for hours. You made everyone love you, with your sweetness. Even your gruff grandfathers, who are both moved by nothing, crumble to pieces when you smile at them. As you grew, you displayed this remarkable talent for…anything you touched. Art, singing, dancing, violin, running. You are a marvel young lady. Read more
I hate having anxiety attacks. It manifests itself in a million different ways. This attack seizing me, is using writer’s block as its main weapon. I haven’t blogged this week, not due to laziness, but due to an inability to complete a thought. I have writers block all the time, but when it prevents clear thinking in terms of writing my way through, it’s the absolute worse.
However, I’m committed to writing. Even if I’m writing about having nothing to write about. My second kindle broke, which is contributing to my block. I believe in the symbiotic relationship that exists between reading and writing. In addition to that, my ideas are seemingly bottlenecked at my wrists, and not coming out through my fingers.
I can’t even tell if the bout with melancholy has caused the writer’s block, or if the writer’s block is responsible for the melancholy. I just know that I plan on taking very good care of myself over the next couple of days so that hopefully, I’ll be in fighting form soon.
But you’ll always be my hero
Even though you’ve lost your mind- Rihanna “Love the Way You Lie, Pt. 2″ Read more
I’m from a universe of excess. Food is heaped with ladles into deep bowls and upon huge plates. Drinks are strong, parties are long and only assholes call the cops. I’m from New Orleans, and today is Mardi Gras – the hedonist’s holiday. But you know this. Read more
I’ve been reading all my life. Literally since I was 3 1/2. My love affair with words and reading ultimately transferred to a love of writing. But what if life was different? What if I didn’t have to consider phobias, limitations or lack of training? What would I be?
1. Assassin
It’s just crazy…as big as hip-hop is in our lives and everything, and as much as we love it, we tend to shun people for just wanting to contribute to that culture, you know? I guarantee you if you look at a country singer who picks up a guitar and says “Hey, who wants to hear this new song that I wrote,” country music fans don’t tell him sit down. I promise.
- Nerd Ferguson “Day In The Life”
"Honesty is a fucking aphrodisiac." – c. Me to the delightful Huny
When I talk to my girlfriends, one of the biggest complaints they have about dating is seeking honesty. It seems like such a simple thing. We talk. You ask me a question, I give an honest answer. I ask you a question, you give an honest answer. But somewhere in the realm of relationships, we develop this fear of letting that person see who we are. We color our personalities, avoid mentioning certain frailties or failings, and avoid angering that person like the plague. And that’s not real life.
No. I won’t read an article with term “Rape Responsibility” in the title. I’ve basically gotten the tone of the piece, and I’m in no mood to upset myself with someone else’s entitled opinion. What I’ve gleaned from the reactions was that the article was ill-informed and out of touch. It dares to address the “Fine Line Between Victim Blaming and Common Sense.” Since I’m an obliging sort, allow me to assist:
Common Sense Fact No. 1 – When a woman is raped, it is because she has encountered a rapist.
Revolutionary concept, no? What you read about how you are dressed, where you go, how much you had to drink – it’s crap. This is not to say that we are to disregard our personal safety. It’s of paramount importance. But let’s be clear: Never in life has a normal man been going about his daily life, then said, “Wait! Drunk Girls? I suddenly and inexplicably am overcome with the need to rape.” He was a rapist when he brushed his teeth that morning, and was simply waiting for his opportunity.
I look like I got ANYTHING for these hoes?
*Sophia Petrillo voice* Picture it: Olney, Maryland. The year is 2010. I’m in a hospital bed recovering from a rather nasty encounter with a pulmonary embolism, and I’m listening to my suite mate being discharged. She uses “disposable adult undergarments” and discussed the whether or not she should attempt to go to the bathroom. After a slight bit of hemming and hawing, she’s silent for a moment and says, COMPLETELY nonplussed, “Well look…I just went in this one. What do we do now?”
In that experience, I saw my future. I embarrass very easily. I ultimately recover, it could be months, even YEARS later, and I’ll occasionally get totally red faced about it. I won’t pretend to know what she was thinking, but the way she spoke said, “Look, this is what it is, let’s fix it and move on.”
One day, I’m going to be a really old broad, and I kind of want to be like that. I’ll still be me, but I want to be like “Look, yeah I peed my pants, but I changed my alternator and put two kids through college. Holla at ya girl.” Dammit I MIGHT throw up the Roc when I’m 70.
I’ve also decided that when I outlive my second husband, I won’t marry again. I’ll just have a boyfriend that everyone will call Mr. Charles. That may not even be his name. But he’ll know how to hook up your carburetor, and Charles sounds like the most trustworthy name for that type of thing. We’ll have family picnics and he’ll be all, “Go’on on and let that boy have a beer! Had my first beer at 15 years old!” He’ll say it with a square dangling from his lip and I’ll allow it.
I plan on being a pretty kick ass Gram. But I don’t focus on that TOO much, because I don’t want to be the person who forces my kids to have kids. That’s the type of thing that I would love, but it’s gotta be their choice. My kids are awesome people though, so I’ll look forward to having a bird’s eye view of their parenting.
Toting a pistol will definitely be part of my old broad life. I want a hand cannon. I also want to shoot at least one person, just to show the other reprobates that I mean business. Not the regular mischievous kids. I’m talking about the real incorrigible ones. I don’t plan on killing anyone, but I need to put one on JUST the right side of death so that they know I could if they try to test.
Don’t confuse that with me wanting to be an old douche. I have no plans to hate kids. Actually, I want the hooligans to be my friends. SOMEBODY has to watch my Lincoln Town Car when I go to pick up my post-menopausal medicinal reefer. Part of being older, to me, means sharing with the folks that come behind you. I came up amongst OGs, and they never “schooled” me by beating me over the head with messages. The gave weight to who I was as a young woman, and shared what they’d learned with me. That’s part of the joy of being old, I think. Not to look back and hate that you’re not the young person that you were, but to build and give people the benefit of your experience in all things, including just how to love folks. I really plan on enjoying every part of my journey here.
