Three Strikes and You're Out...

I hope all is well with everyone...I'm getting serious about my bloggin' again...I know we've all heard this before, but I'm trying to do better. I'm going to commit to one/week to start, and maybe a few freebies here and there. Please feel free to distribute throughout the land as you see fit. For those who are new to the blog, it's more of a stream of consciousness type of thing. No real theme, other than stuff that happens to me, and things that I think about...which, by the way is some funny stuff...believe you me, lol. So, now that we're all reacquainted, lets jump right back into the swing of things.

I started this blog entry over a year ago, and just decided to finish it.  The underlying theme is one that I've been talking to folks about lately, so, I thought it would be a cool way to keep the conversation going.  The good thing about this is that I have an update on the relationship with the fella below, so I guess that's a little nugget that you all wouldn't have gotten if I didn't put it down and pick it back up a year and a half later...enjoy...

As we get a bit older, the conversation amongst many groups of female friends, surrounds the shallow dating pool in the DC area. I'm not naiive enough to think that women in other areas of the country and world don't also have this problem, but I'm gonna talk about the folks I know the best. While I see what they're saying, I've considered myself to be pretty "lucky in love", so to speak. I have fun dating, end up in relatively fulfilling relationships, and when they're over, I'm able to learn the lesson and move on.

I generally operate on a three strikes and you're out system.  This is the easiest way I've been able to find, to keep myself from wasting my time on a perfectly nice guy, who just can't seem to get it together. There are, however, different things that can benefit or work against a man in these instances. If we go a long period of time without you using a strike, then your first strike may not actually be counted against you...or say for instance, you have a couple strikes, but have been on your best behavior, you might be granted a mulligan for the next strike...and so forth and so on. On the flip side, finding out that you're married; live with someone; have undisclosed children; a drug problem; or look like a woman when you drop your pants, etc. will get you a good three strikes for the price of one and discharged from the game.

I recently started dating this guy...very handsome, attentive (read: octopus), great personality, great job, well travelled, worldly...blah blah blah...all of the things that make us give a man the right phone number. I was very pleased with his communication style, everything was going great. For all intents and purposes, he should've been a front runner in the race for...I don't know...whatever "the roster" is racing for...y'all know what it is, lol.  Things were cool, but there was just something about him that didn't totally sit well with me.  At first, I thought it was because he was a hard blinker; and then I definitely didn't like the fact that he didn't have a presence on any social networking medium.

Strike #1...On our first date (lunch...ok), he left his wallet in his office...I had to pay. This might be a big no no for most folks, and believe me, it was an eyebrow raiser for me, but it's not that big of a deal. I don't mind paying, and he was adament about paying me back (which he did within two hours), but wild stuff has happened to all of us, and one must wonder...just a bit. While the situation was quickly rectified, he still got his first strike because it happened so doggone early. Strike #2 Weird and not easily explained living situation (no details necessary, I just didn't like it, lol). Strike #3 After date #5million in ten days, I finally let him drive me to my house...As I walk up the path to my building, I turn, and this fool is through the light and turning the corner.  SIR, I could've been raped, pillaged, murdered, kidnapped by martians, or any other manner of death and distruction and you would never know, because you were already home in bed, by the time I got to my front door!!

His strike #3 is the perfect example of a "three for one" type of deal.  When I'm dropping off my 6'4' 285lb brother, I wait until he gets in the door before driving off.  It's a TOTAL deal breaker for me.  At any rate, I got a text from him when he made it home (as I was walking down the hall to my apartment door, lol).  I didn't respond.  He called the next day, I sent him to voicemail.  After about a week or so of him calling and texting, I assume he got the picture, and stopped trying. 

I don't by any means claim to have the blueprint on dating and relationships, but I think I've had enough experiences to have learned some valuable lessons.  I've also been blessed to not only have learned those lessons, but to also have the intelligence to take heed.  How many times have we seen the warning signs that a dude is just not the one for us?  I would venture to say, that every relationship that ends, does so, for a reason that we identified and ignored, very early on.  What makes us ignore them?  I'm not just talking about women, because I woul venture to say that men do the same things.

I'm sure there are a bunch of different reasons that people ignore or settle in to live with, these red flags.  Some of them are deep seeded, others, not so much.  My approach may be a little on the unforgiving side, but I have no reason to modify it at present.  I implore the victims of shallow dating pools everywhere to evaluate your dating history.  The things that you put up with, the reasons why, and your results.  Most importantly, study your contribution to these situations.  Before even the first strike, there was something that I couldn't put my finger on, about this man, but I kept moving with it, because he was "perfect".  Turns out, he would leave me in the desert as dinner for hyenas, that is, unless I invited him upstairs (which I never did, btw).

I had lunch with this guy a couple of months ago, about a year after the third strike.  It seems that his living situation is a little less tricky and his wallet was on his person this time.  I never did tell him the real reasons why I stopped answering his calls, he thinks it was a combination of me moving to LA and getting caught up in the remnants of a previous relationship...I really can't remember what I told him.  As we were leaving the restaurant, he pulled me into an embrace and tried to kiss me in the mouth, and with sphinx-like reflexes I dodged the smooch, and planted one on his cheek.  He stepped back, smiled, hailed a cab, got in, and waved as it drove off...and there I was, in the desert (of Logan Circle), with the hyenas...but not at all surprised, lol. 

Why Did I Get Married?

I know this title may have raised a few eyebrows but clearly it isn't about me, because I'm not married. But it's a question that I've been wondering if some of my friends have been asking themselves.

I've learned in my adult life that I am in no position to judge people who are in situations that I know nothing about. I'm not married nor have I ever been married. I've played house a few times, and that didn't even work out so I think that puts me in an even lower position to speak on married life, and what happens in it. I do sometimes wonder, if people who are married, and more importantly married with children, ever ask themselves "Why did I get married?".

The subject of married men making advances toward women other than their wives, is something that comes up quite often in conversations with my girlfriends. It's not something that I encountered at all, really, until some of my male "friends" started getting married. And I'll be honest, I was quite naiive, thinking that maybe it isn't something that happens as often as most people think, until I realized that I just hadn't encountered that demographic.

This sounds like a good place for a disclaimer, lol. I am not "outing" anyone in this post, male or female. So don't read with baited breath, expecting for a scandal to be uncovered because that just isn't the point, and it isn't goin to happen.

Now that we have that out of the way....

It seems to me, that many of the people who I know that are married, aren't happy. The reason I know this is either because I'm close enough to them that they just come out and tell me, or their behavior eludes to it. Let me classify this...

Many of the people, who I know, that were married before the age of 30, aren't happy. And when I say they aren't happy, I mean, they dread going home; are constantly testing the waters for opportunities for "release"; have full on relationships with other people; I could go on and on...but I won't, lest I nullify the disclaimer ;-)

How does a person end up in this place? How does one commit to spend the rest of their life with someone who, within two years of making that commitment, they can no longer stand the sight of?

In many of my blogs, I have answers to the question I ask. Unfortunately, this time I don't. I wrote this one, to get the dialogue started. We have, for too long, violated the sanctity of marriage. So much so, that it has been reduced to likes of "Will you go with me? Check the box...", and can be eliminated just as easily as another note that says "I quit you."

Time for another disclaimer: some people actually try to make it work. I've seen it happen. Sometimes it works...many times it doesn't. Kudos to those who have taken their marriages seriously, but something else ended up prevailing.

Bi-Coastal Barbie...

Please forgive me for the cheesy title, I just couldn't help myself, lol. It does serve it's purpose though, so I think we can learn to live with it. It's just my first post after moving to the left coast, lol.

I want to take a minute to talk about healing. Not physical healing, although, I guess I could use symptoms of physical healing to illustrate the types I'm talking about today. But, to be clear, I'm talking about emotional healing.

Since moving to LA, I've been having some very serious conversations with friends and family members. There's something about moving 3,000 miles away that makes people want to have "death-bed" conversations, lol. No, moving across the country is not death, but I understand the urgency in which these conversations were initiated, because you just don't know the impact that a move of this magnitude will have on a relationship, and there are just some things that you want to get off of your chest.

In having these conversations, there was an overwhelming undercurrent (is that even possible?) across the board. Everyone wanted to explain just how much they were over this thing or that thing. I got a lot of "I don't even THINK about that nigga anymore", and "Girl PLEASE, I upgraded HER", and "Jealous? of what?! the husband that cheats on her constantly?!". I'll be honest, I was a good girlfriend in many of these cases in the beginning, giving the mandatory nods, "you're right girl", and other signs of active listening. Then, I began to get fidgety, and then down right irritated by the conversations, and found myself wanting to scream "SHUT UP!!" at the top of my lungs.

I initially thought that I might be PMS'ing and that was why I didn't want to hear it anymore. But then I realized that I was just sick of being apart of the bandage parties. Bandage parties are a lot like pity parties, except there are a lot more people invited. At a bandage party, you invite your most vocal and loyal girlfriends; who know the gorey details of every failed relationship (yours and hers) and is preferably, fresh out of a relationship on her own, and actively sending invitations to her own bandage party, or in the midst of a failing relationship, that will give her even further insight (read: bitterness) to contribute to the conversation. The good thing about these pow-wows, is that it's a great opportunity for girlfriends to get together and bond (wine, great snacks, and good company...what can beat that?!); the bad part about these parties is that they cover up wounds that should be left open to get air, develop a scab, and heal properly; the wound of a broken heart (whether from a romantic relationship, or friendship, or family member) is one of those wounds that needs to be kept clean, covered/bandaged for a day or two, and needs air to get to it, in order to heal properly.

I think everyone that knows me, knows that I'm a relatively reasonable person. However, the way that I choose to deal with a broken heart can seem kind of cold, or even mechanical. I take the time to tell the story to the ones that I think need to hear it (that usually includes a conference call with Jam and Chow, and then a mass email/text msg convo/conference call w/the "next best" girlfriends), deal with the person directly involved, and then I refuse to talk about it anymore. It has taken years of break-ups and disagreements, heartache, and lingering feelings for people who don't mean me any good, to come up with this strategy.

What most people don't understand is that by taking this approach, I am treating my wounded heart like a physical wound. It seems cut and dry, but when I explain in it emotional terms, you'll see how closely the healing processes resemble one another.

When your heart is broken, it is imperative that you share the experience with someone. The only thing worse that suffering a blow the first time (physical or emotional) is having to live through it again in the initial stages of the healing process. Physically, this is cleaning the wound with peroxide or alcohol; emotionally, this is telling your best friends about the heart wrenching experience you've just endured. Because the wound is so fresh and vulnerable, this is when you need a bandage. Physically, to stop the bleeding; emotionally, to draw on the strength of the people you love, and love you, to snap back from this blow. After a couple of days, the bleeding (physically and emotionally) has stopped, and it's time to take off the bandage to let the real healing begin.

This is not the time to fake it 'til you make it. Be honest with yourself, and live with those REAL feelings, otherwise you don't stand a chance. Do I miss him? Yes, I do...more than I ever thought I would. Does it hurt? Like a b*tch with sharp teeth. But everyday, the wound is cleaned, and left uncovered by bandages of denial, and a scab slowly begins to form. Before you know it, there will be a scab over the whole thing. The thicker the scab gets, eventually it will just be a patch of hard skin, with no pain. And one morning, you'll wake up and the scab will have rubbed off in your sleep to reveal brand new skin, with no remnants of the previous wound.

There are a bunch of other metaphors I can use to further my point, like...if you pick a scab, eventually it will heal, but you'll have a scar, etc. However the most hopeful is that the new, unscarred skin that forms under a scab doesn't appear to be any different than the rest of your skin, but there's something underneath it, that makes it stronger, and much less susceptible to injury. Isn't that awesome?!!

I hope this wasn't too deep, lol...and of course I hope it helped someone. The moral of the story is to take the time to mourn losses, but learn your lessons, and move on to proper healing...you owe it to yourself.

Is That REALLY How You Feel?

Ok, I'm blogging again, I think that's enough of an intro, don't you, lol?

Ok, so there's this lady that does vlogs on relationships, mostly about how women should treat men, and the latest one that's gone viral is her talking about how it's ok for your man to cheat, it's in his nature, he'll always come back home because that's where he's being fed; then in the next breath she goes on about how the only reason he left in the first place was because he wasn't being fed; sexually, physically, emotionally, etc...blah blah blah. She goes on to say that monogamy was created by Europeans and that from the beginning of all time, men had multiple wives, and will therefore never be faithful...unless he's being fed at home. There's a metaphor about domesticating cats, and how if you let them out in the wild, they'll revert to their natural instincts, but always come home, so they can eat. She talks in a few different circles, some of it was good stuff, some of it didn't make any sense at all. She does all of this while cooking a meal in her kitchen, it was cute.

Whenever I see posts like this, it makes me wonder if this thought process is genuine, or is it born from a place where a woman constantly finds herself being cheated on, and rather than wait for a man who respects her and their relationship enough not to stick his thing in any hole that will open up to him, she's come up with this idea that it's not her, but it's in a male's human nature to want and pursue multiple sexual partners. OR it could be something completely different, the "Sports, Sex, and Food" concept, where a woman becomes well versed (at least on the surface and in public) in things that will garner attention from multitudes of men, and thereby making her the "ideal" woman. Kinda like the girls in high school and college that learned how to cornrow, just so that the boys would always want her around.

But, again, my question becomes, "is this REALLY" how you feel?!". I mean, don't get me wrong, if you can honestly allow your man to go out and have sex with other women, and be comforted in the fact that he doesn't love them, and will always come home to you, that's cool. If you like it, I love it. But I'd then like to know where this came from? What made you come to this conclusion? I would hope that it is not some form of settling because you think this is the only way that you can get someone to love you; or maybe not even love you, but to be with you. And do you get to do the same thing? If you see a hot one in the grocery store, is it ok for you to slip in the butcher's closet for a PURELY physical rendevous, as long as you still make it home to cook up the groceries you just bought?

Have things gotten so bad, that we have completely forgotten about AIDS and other STDs, and will throw all caution to the wind just to keep a man? And please don't talk to me about condoms, because half the time these men aren't using them...and then he comes home and sleeps with you, and doesn't use them then either. Have you forgotten the spiritual connection that comes along with sleeping with someone, whether you love them or not? There really is something to the saying that, when you sleep with someone, you're sleeping with everyone else they've ever slept with; and it's not just talking about the physical part of those partners either. I can't really go too far into that one without this becoming a whole different blog, so I'll digress.

Please don't misunderstand me. I'm a firm believer that it is important for a man to be cared for and nurtured on every level at home. I'm also a firm believer that in many, if not most cases, infidelity only becomes a possibility when a man isn't getting all of his needs satisfied at home. This could mean many different things though. You might not even be equipped to give this particular man all that he needs to be fulfilled. And don't fool yourself, if you can't, you will know this early on, and would be a complete idiot to even try.

There is a school of thought that asserts that people should strive to live in "circles of love", in which they get many different things from different partners, and everyone ends up fulfilled and totally happy. I can understand this manner of thinking, and while it's not for me, upon further investigation, in situations where it functions properly, I can see how it would work for some people. And how could you do anything but respect a lifestyle that promotes total and complete fulfillment. Again, if you like it, I love it.

I guess my real question is this...why would you want to completely give yourself to someone who won't do the same for you, if this is something that you require? I'm not talking about casual situations. I'm talking about a committed relationship, in which you have taken on the responsibility for the total well-being of another person. If this is what you require, why change your non-negotiables just because you're lonely? How low does your self-esteem have to be for you to sit at home waiting for your man to come in from the wild and enjoy the space that you've created for him? And how impossibly low is the number of your self worth, to think that this is best you can hope for?

My largest issue here, is how lop-sided the concept is. If your man can also understand that you too, may want to engage in the occasional tryst, and will always come back to him, then y'all go ahead and swing it up...and I can totally get with it. But if you feel this way, because you think it's the only way that you stand a chance at keeping a man, then darling, I'm afraid, you just aren't ready for a man at all, and need to take some serious time working on you.

Suspiciously Positive

Hey ya'll...it's been a while since I blogged, but here I am again! Things are going well...I'm working on my album, still doing the radio show, working, started an awesome open mic at the Front Page in Dupont Circle...life is good. I could really use a nap....like, ALL the time...but other than that, I have no complaints.

I've been sucked in by the black hole named Twitter, and have become one of those people that tweets through life. I'm not quite as bad as those that bid good morning and goodnight to the tweeple in twitterville, but I'm definitely one that will tweet about any and every little thing that crosses my mind, i.e. wondering why I love tacos so much. Lately, I've noticed something that's a bit disturbing, and I was actually surprised that I was disturbed, lol. I was seriously bothered by the hate that people tweet. I LOVE the funny tweets, and can't get enough of the twitpics of new hairstyles, sleeping children/pets; play by play of bathroom showdowns (that might just be me, lol); the creative ways in which people express their disdain for their jobs/bosses, etc. The convenience of being able to easily locate a group of friends when trying to make your next move on a night out, is invaluable, i.e. "You Street". I didn't exactly make it out anywhere this Friday night, but Saturday morning, I scrolled through my timeline to see what folks were up to. I was seriously turned off by the amount of tweets about negative stuff. One of my "friends" tweeted incessantly about what seemed to be EVERY person in the club where she was. She critiqued everything from their hair, nails, outfit, drink selections, dance moves, how they stood on the wall, choice of cologne, and even method of payment at the bar!! I almost rolled my eyes out of my head! I wanted to tweet something about positivity, and how we should uplift one another instead of always finding ways to tear each other down, but it just seemed so trite, and quite frankly, very whack (I always roll my eyes at the uber positive, make love not war tweets). One of the main reasons I was so disgusted by the barrage of negative tweets, is that the girl tweeting them, is anything BUT a fashionista; and she has a slight body odor, that I haven't confirmed, but I'm pretty sure is hers, and not at all pleasant. One must ask the question, "If I am so disgusted by my surroundings, why am I still here?!"

With all of that being said, I guess this is a sign of growth. There was a time that I might be amused by something like that. I'm not saying that I don't notice AND sometimes twitpic foolishness I see on the street, but there was something malicious in the tone of these tweets. A kind of deflection. As if, you tweeting other people's foolishness, we won't notice yours. The moral of this story is that you have to bend down to pull somebody else's skirt up, and in the process, you end up showing your ass too.

The Truth: Ain't a Ceiling

You say life's been hard on you
Well brother I got news
It's hard on me too

We seem to face the same old issues
Some are just surface
Some deeper in the tissue

I know slavery has paid its part
Word...
Being separated
And subjugated
And that passes to the brain of our child
So I want to step off what was
And start with right now

You say the world just don't understand
But I aint the world, my love
I'm your woman

And I know how deep it really goes
Trying to tread on a dream
When the water feels low

And ooooh, if our ancestors can walk
Barefoot afraid in the dark
For miles and miles and miles and miles and miles and miles and miles
I know we can do this
Come on lets start

I wanna be real with you
I wanna get healed with you
I wanna grow up with you

I wanna be more for you
Be whats in store for you
Open the doors with you

To a truer healing
Can you imagine the feeling
The sky ain't a ceiling
At all

Form Your Sentences in Straight Lines...Not circles...

I'm blogging again, lol...Not too much else needs to be said about that. Moving on...

Anyone who blogs, can tell you that the themes of the blog are generally centered around things that irk the spit out of the blogger. I like to mix it up a bit, with encouragement, funny stories, current events, etc. However, I have opted to be ordinary today, and talk about something that is burning me a little bit, and in an effort not to physically hurt someone, blog about it. I'm sure everyone remembers the Dave Chappelle skit about the Habitual Linestepper. Many of us have encountered such people, and call many of them friends. The girl in your crew that always seems to get caught in the bathroom with someone's boyfriend at a party; the friend that no matter how many times you mark the point of no return in their night of drinking, still can't seem to stay two drinks away from that mark; the friend that walks in your house, goes directly to your fridge and turns your milk carton up to their mouth, empties it, and then puts it back in; or even the relative that calls at 7am Saturday morning, asks if you're asleep, and immediately starts talking about nonsense (isn't everything nonsense at 7am on Saturday morning?). While all of these would easily serve as a comical blog entry, I'd like to identify a subsector of the Habitual Linesteppers; a group that can easily be missed if you don't pay attention...The Habitual Circle Talker.

I got the idea for this blog from events that have been unfolding in my life over the past few weeks. It all came to a head yesterday, when my BFF and I were watching Ellen, and she was interviewing one of the contestants for the upcoming Miss California Pageant. Ellen asked the girl how she planned to win the pageant. The girl started her answer by saying, "It's such an honor to even participate in the Miss California Pageant...it's been a dream of mine since I was a very young girl. It's so important to consider...blah blah blah". Ok, *is this thing on?* Did you even hear the question? The reason I inserted the blah's is because that's the only part of her answer I remember...I stopped listening, and only paid attention to the show again, when Jam said, "She didn't answer the question!". Excuse me, Little Miss "I want to be Miss California", you're a Habitual Circle Talker.

One person in particular, with whom I've been forced to communicate on a regular basis, has mastered this art. Should write a book really. For a while, I hadn't actually been paying attention to anything she said, so it didn't really matter. She'd send a painfully long email or text message, or go on and on in a phone conversation, and you know how, you'll throw filler questions out to people just so they think you're into what they're saying? For the longest, this is how my interaction with this person has gone. Only recently, have I been interested, or invested in what comes spewing out of the whole in her face, and am now becoming increasingly fed up with the lack of respect for my intelligence. Because when it all comes down to it, that's what it really is, right? These people have mastered the art of talking in a circle to disguise the fact that they don't really have anything of substance to say. They've done so much work in putting on the facade that would make them appear knowledgeable, or able to play this "part", but they're a fraud, which is why, when put in a position where questions have to be answered, or input is required, they resort to talking in a circle, and can only hope that 1. You're so dumb that you buy it, 2. You aren't really paying attention anyway, 3. They talked in SUCH a circle that you can't remember what they're even talking about, or 3. By some divine intervention, you're able to put the foolishness together in a way that remotely makes sense, or at least ponder it long enough to give them time to come up with a better story.

I think the part that burns me up the most, is that the easiest way to disguise the fact that you don't have anything of substance to say, is just to shut up. It's a novel idea...almost so simple that it HAS to work. It's almost amusing to watch a habitual circle talker at work. At some point during the conversation (I use this term loosely, as most cases are just one sided, because no intelligent person can participate in an actual conversation with a circle talker without exposing them) you can almost see their eyes glaze over, and a look come across their face that says "I don't really know what I'm talking about, but I was way too deep in this conversation by the time I realized it, and can't back out now."

Everyone is guilty of talking in a circle at least on occasion. Most times it happens like this...you start a normal conversation, and realize that you aren't being well received at all, or you're being misunderstood, and instead of just shutting up and regrouping, you kind of take a roundabout route to get back on track. That whole time you were trying to get back on track...you were talking in a circle, and I promise, you'll be hard pressed to remember anything you said on that detour. Don't feel bad, it's normal...we all do it...I did it the other day. This, a habitual circle talker, does not make.

It's easy to identify habitual circle talkers, and even easier to expose them, once identified. Anyone, colleague, friend, classmate, whoever, that is incapable of sending a two line email, is almost always a habitual circle talker. The person who can't ever seem to get their thoughts in the 160 characters allotted for text messages, is probably a habitual circle talker. The person that never answers a yes or no question with a yes or no...habitual circle talker. The person that always says things like, "so much is going on", or "the response has been crazy", or "I'm working on a ton of stuff", or anything general like that, but can never provide a list of tasks embarked upon, with the result of each...is probably a habitual circle talker, and probably doesn't really have too much of anything going on. If you aren't amused in the least by this post, YOU are a habitual circle talker, and for the love of God, and the fear of being exposed as a fraud, please shut up until you have something to say that someone wants to hear.

Why now?!

I'm going to start off by saying that a lot of people are going to be utterly pissed off by what I'm getting ready to write here, but I must say that I've held my tongue, with no intentions on saying anything at all, out of respect for the departed and the bereaved. However, I think the hypocrisy that has reached a startling high, has given me the extra push needed to write a little something down.

I would also like to add a disclaimer to this post, stating that, I have been an avid follower and fan of Michael Jackson, for as long as I can remember. I remember huddling into my parents bedroom on Monday nights when a new video was being released; and begging for a Michael Jackson "Ken" doll; and my uncle buying me a red leather jacket like Michael's (even though it was for boys), after I screamed and cried and promised never to ask for another thing as long as I LIVE; actually crying and feeling just a little faint when he walked out onto the stage at the Capital Center; and watching Thriller over and over again through the holes in my godmother's afghan, until I was too excited about knowing all the dance moves to be afraid anymore; and of course, watching Moonwalker several times EVERday, until my tape popped, then, learning the art of "fixing" popped VHS tapes (this was my first experience with a screwdriver), and remembering exactly where the tape skipped over the scotch tape...somewhere right around Smooth Criminal. So please, don't mistake my intentions here.

We all saw the disastrous BET awards last night. I think we can all agree that it was a mess, although there were some mildly entertaining parts. Truthfully, what made the show such a disaster was the effort made to honor Michael. One has to know, BET spends the entire year, or a good portion of it, preparing for the annual awards show. They were asked, this year, 72 hours before the show was scheduled to air, to change EVERYTHING, and make the show about Michael. Of course, they immediately swung into motion calling on folks who were guaranteed to be free, like New Edition including Bobby Brown, to add a little spice to the tribute. I feel they would've done better to get Day 26 to do the opening tribute, they certainly would've moved a little freer than the Senior Citizens that were New Edition, but I guess the "has beens" fit a little bit better into the budget than the newbies...or maybe they just thought they were going to get points for nostalgia from generation X'ers, but it really just turned out be an embarrassment (Bobby Brown in a mohawk...please).

While I could go on and on, the BET show isn't the purpose of this post, it was just the responses to the show and the alleged disgrace of Mike's memory that has made me a little hot. I'm constantly hearing people suggest the show should've been more substantive, that there should be more thought and care put into the tributes, and memorials. And my question to all of you that feel this way is, "Why now?" Everyday you're, swaggin' and surfin'; never leaving the house without FIRST turning your swag on; wishing you could f*ck every girl in the world; begging to be somebody's boyfriend #2; all while feeding on a healthy diet of cookies and applejuice...again, I could go on, but you get the picture. All of a sudden, people who have lived their lives with little to no purpose, are actually requiring something of substance out of this world. How dare you?! How dare you, all of a sudden decide to care about something other than yourself, and have the gaul to post articles on facebook, change your profile picture, and post youtube clip after youtube clip, and expect anyone to do anything but roll their eyes (as I've found myself doing almost simultaneously as my facebook page loads every morning).

Exactly what did we expect last night? Did you expect for a show that is already a borderline coonfest, to completely switch up production after months of preparation and put together, in 72 hours, a show worthy to be called a tribute to Michael Jackson? Someone, please tell me what you would've done? I know there's no way that BET stood a chance of ever coming close to the vigils you each have on your myspace and facebook pages, but just for arguments sake, what did you expect? You can't spend your life concerned only about yourself, and how the actions of others will effect you alone, and expect anyone to take you seriously when you finally find a cause you consider to be worthy. And what is that cause really? Micahel Jackson? Are you fighting for the cause of Michael Jackson? Or have you found something else that will draw more attention to you? Just another reason to post something and start a string of comments on your status message? Out of all of the posts that I've seen (and there have been hundreds), not one has said anything about carrying on, or attempting to carry on the legacy that Michael Jackson left behind in his philanthropic work. The comments range from those that have crawled out from under their rock of indifference concerning anyone but themselves and posted a tribute, to those suggesting that their should be no tribute, and citing his child molestation allegations, and all around suspect behavior over the past decade, as reasons for oversight. But not one person said anything about the philanthropy. Many people forget that he was the one that made it "cool" to be a celebrity who gives back. Thus, one might venture to say, he was the only one to do it without any altertior motives. Once again, in all of our conceit and self-indulgence, we have missed the mark. So change your profile pic, already...and get back to what you know best...you.

I'm just playin'...but seriously...

I'm just feeling a little goofy today, so forgive me. This one probably won't be that long, and I can almost promise it won't be insightful, but it should make you chuckle. Soooo...I've come across quite a few delusional people as of late. And I'd like to talk about that today. I always wonder, when people make things up about themselves, what has to be going through they're mind when they tell these "stories" in the presence of people who really know the truth. For example a man with a small penis should never...and I mean never...engage in a conversation about sex...ESPECIALLY, when there's a woman in the room that knows what he isn't working with. Now, we all know that you can gauge a man's sexual prowess against how much he brags about it, and in most cases it's an opposite correlation. However, as adults, we engage in intelligent conversations about sex. Nothing in the realm of "Oh I put it DOWN", but a healthy exchange of opinions, feelings, tips, etc. Have you ever been in one of these conversations with a dude that you KNOW can't do ANYTHING, let alone the things that he's leading the other unassuming participants in the conversation to believe. And you kinda sit there with a blank stare like, there's no way I can be a party to this foolishness. You lose all interest in the conversation, because it has become a joke. Just a small tangent here...how do you tell the little man that he's little? I mean seriously, how do you tell a man that you broke up with him because his penis looks like a finger...not your finger, sir...MY finger! Don't get me started. Back to the topic at hand...

Delusional people. Facebook is the hottest thing in life right now. And of course, we all know every detail of everyone's life as a result of facebook...Im nosy as hell, so I'm in heaven. But I've been noticing a lot of people attaching comments to their pics that make absolutely no sense. I was on an old associate's page today, and he had a pic up of him and his daughter. The caption said, "my twin"...huh?! You're light, she's dark...you're fat as hell, she's petite...she has almond shaped eyes, I can't remember anything about your eyes, so they can't be that special....this is not your twin...unless of course you look nothing like your father, and then you would be twins in that respect, but clearly not in the traditional sense.

One of my favorite delusional people is the non singer. By this I don't mean, the person that just isn't a singer, can hold a note, but just isn't a SANGA. No, I'm talking about the folks that DO sing, but can't. The best way to describe it I think, is this....You know how you kinda feel indifferent about some people. Like, you don't dislike them, you don't particularly like them, you just don't have a feeling about them either way...they haven't done anything to you, or anything like that, they just aren't your cup of tea. That's the person that can hold a note, but knows they aren't a singer, so they don't push it. Now think about somebody that jumps up and down on your last nerve, whenever you're around them...that's how I feel about the true non-singers. OMG, WHY are you singing...and loudly?! It makes my skin crawl...and I wonder...how is it that you've gotten to this age and no one has told you how horrible you sound?! I blame the parents of these people. More parents should be like my girl, Belle's, dad. She stood in up front of him as a child and belted out "The Greatest Love of All", but didn't get through the whole thing because her father said, "Oh no, what are you doing? You can't sing! But you know what you can do? You can read. Now why don't you go on in the other room and do that?". Even though her heart may have been a little broken, she went in the room and read....read her way right through college, grad school, and into a very successful career.

Finally, I would like to talk about adult runners. Not people that run for recreation or exercise. I'm talking about adults that run to catch trains, buses, planes, or the adult that is running for no aparent reason. I can more understand running for a plane or an amtrak train...missing it may cost money, and they don't come as frequently. But I'll be son of a gun if you catch me RUNNING for a metro train, when another one is five minutes behind it. But let's stay on track here. We're talking about people with a skewed senses of reality. If you are standing at the light on Minnesota Ave and you see your train pull into the station across the street, it is totally irrational to think you are going to make it across the street, down the escalator, through the gate, and back UP the escalator to the platform...so why are you running? I won't even run up the escalator if I hear the train pulling into the station and I'm at the bottom of the escalator to the platform...another one will be there in FOUR MINUTES! The flip side to this, and maybe even more hilarious are the people that get to the fare card machines and see that the train will be there in 7 minutes, and they make a MAD DASH for the platform, and when you take your time down the escalator, you see them standing there, out of breath and sweating, catching the EXACT same train you just strolled onto.

In closing, let's try to stay as close to reality as possible people. Let's be reasonable...stop running for no reason...stop lying on people...or yourself to make you look better. If you miss the train, there's another one coming...don't freak out. If you have a little dick, be nice. This is not rocket science...

What's Good for the Goose, is Good for the Gander....

One of the reasons this blog is so easy to write, is that I run my mouth quite a bit. Not in the traditional sense, but I love to get with a group of friends and yak it up...about any and everything. A conversation that continues to emerge, as of late, concerns men (of course), and their increasing inability to have a "no strings attached", physical relationship. This is in no way to imply that women have the blueprint on this, because CLEARLY, women have been trippin' over FB's for YEARS.

The point in a woman's life when she finally embraces the notion that you don't have to see your future husband in every man with whom you enter a physical relationship, is an utterly freeing experience. Further, you realize there are some people you just want to screw, (and why shouldn't you, you beautiful, liberated, sexual butterfly!!). (DISCLAIMER: This is not condoning "rolling" or "whoreism", a lady knows when to say when, lol...seriously.) You don't care what happens in his life when you all aren't together. You don't care about his job, dreams, family, or his life. And you expect him to feel the same way concerning you. Why should you have to bore yourself to tears, sharing meals with, and exchanging mindless text messages, and phone conversations when all you want to do is screw?

I've attempted this kind of thing a few times, and much to my dismay, it blew up in my face, lol. I was in a different kind of place, emotionally. I'd been out of a serious relationship for about five months, I knew that I wasn't totally ready to get back into another one, but I also wasn't interested in continuing along my "I don't think I'll ever let anyone touch me again" rant either (we can be so dramatic when our hearts have been broken). So, I embarked on my journey to find an FB. There was no one I'd been with in the past that was appealing AND available, so it was time for someone new. I chose him, and was all too pleased to find out that he favored discretion and had no desire to do anything but "have some fun". So we did, for a while, and then he realized just how serious I was about just having fun, and even more so, the discretion. So he began to trip because, "you don't acknowledge me when we're in public", or "how could you bring another dude here", or "why don't you ever call me just to say hi?". HUH?!!! Needless to say, I ended that quick and easy...

The real problem here was that he started to act like a girl...I am not now, nor have I ever even considered lesbianism. I think girls are gross, I have no desire to talk to one, touch one, or spend any real time with any, other than those that have already gone through the vetting process required to be considered one of my girlfriends. I hate girls so much, sometimes I even disgust myself (not really, but I want to make sure you get the point). So even the SLIGHTEST hint of female tendencies in a man, makes me feel like I'm being forced into lesbianism...I mean seriously, what's the next step after dating a "girly" boy? Blatant lesbianism...

The main thing I love about real men, is that they aren't girls. I'm a girl. I cry; I get super pissed over really dumb stuff; and then cry again; I'm moody; I'm jealous; I have all kinds of irrational fears; I'm late for EVERYTHING; I'm stubborn; it takes me FOREVER to get dressed; I can be a nag; I could go on for weeks, but I won't. I think you get the jist. Being with a real man, neutralizes this craziness. Now, when you start acting like a girl, it forces me to infuse some testosterone in the relationship and start acting like a man. And now the natural order of things is all screwed up.

So, back to the question at hand...why can't some guys (more than you think), handle it when a woman just wants to keep things very casual? And why is the woman that is cool with something like this, considered heartless, cold blooded, or (depending upon who's telling the story) a whore? Anytime I've tried to have an FB, the most important part for me has been to keep it a secret. Why? Because, a woman that only wants to screw you is a slut, that's why (not to mention, in most cases, these aren't my kind of people). The world can't seem to grasp the idea that all women don't see a future with every man with whom she's involved. She would be psycho to even consider it. Why is it ok for a man to want to "just kick it", but it's not ok for a woman to want the same thing. So essentially we all fall into one of three categories..."desperate and delusional", "happy and attached" (every warm blooded woman's ultimate goal, right? lol), or "Whore-slut-bitch-freak-heartbreaker". Pick your teams ladies...t-shirt orders are due by close of business friday ;)

What's the point?

Let's talk about commitment. What does commitment mean? It's defined as; an act of committing to a charge or trust; something pledged; the state or an instance of being obligated or emotionally impelled. It's also a word that will send some people to cloud 9, and send others to the emergency room with an allergic reaction. As a youngster, the assignment of a "title" in a relationship is the ultimate show of commitment. It means I'm your girl, and you're my man, and we are committed to be together forever, right? No. What it really means, is that you can't be with anyone else but me. And if you do, it gives me the right to go all the way off. So, to this effect commitment has become a license to assign fault. Afterall, if we don't "go together" technically, I can do whatever I want, right? Technically...yes. But we know that doesn't always pan out like that.

I remember being in a "relationship" with a guy in undergrad, and like every other boy in college, he wasn't ready to commit to anything but carte blanche on the booty. I was a little bit smarter than him, though ;), I told him, "look, you don't have to make me your girl, but I'm not going to continue to sleep with you, if you start sleeping with someone else, so if you do, just let me know. We can still be cool, but the physical part of our relationship will be over" (like I was ever in danger of this level of honesty). With this statement, and his acquiescence to it, I was afforded the advantages of "commitment", without him even knowing it. Basically, if you don't tell me you slept with someone else, I have the right to be upset because you agreed to tell me if you did. The push for commitment in this situation, is an attempt to keep you from being with anyone else. But the reality is, someone can call you their girl, and make a "commitment" to you, but there's no way in the world you can control their actions.

I was talking to my Evelyn yesterday about a similar topic and this is what we came up with. Guys aren't really concerned with how you feel about anyone but them. They don't really care how you feel about your ex, or that nigga you work with, or even your current boyfriend (if that's your situation). Not women. We want to know how you feel about your momma and your sisters (aunts and cousins too), any past girlfriends (whether you still see them or not), all the women at work, all your female friends and their friends too, and any other woman you may or may not come in contact with that can take you away from me. Is this not the most ridiculous and psycho thing you've ever heard in your life?! Who has the time or energy to keep up with this? I got tired just generating the list!

As stated previously, you can't control someone actions nor their feelings. Commitment isn't the chain by which you keep me from being with anyone else. However, unfortunately that's how it's used in most cases.

So, the question becomes, as an intelligent, feeling, and aware adult, why would one push for commitment under these circumstances. I mean honestly, if a commitment is no guarantee that you won't just do whatever you want to do anyway, why want it, why ask for it, why have it? It's like a car with airbags on the spec list, but when you get in a crash, none come out.

Here's the answer: You don't commit (or ask for commitment) to keep your mate from being with someone else. You commit because YOU don't want to be with anyone else. The only actions in the world you can control, are your own. At the point that you realize, you don't want to be with anyone else, you've already committed. And the same way no one can change your actions against commitment, no one can change them FOR it either.

Chains

I read a lot of books, I listen to a lot of music, I write a lot of stuff, and sing a lot. I've been blessed to be given beautiful prose and lyrics...to write a song or a poem, or hear/read something that speaks to me or my situation, or that of someone else. But it's rare that I share it...I keep it to myself, for all kinds of reasons. The writing is freeing, so I do it for me, and not other people, so I keep it. If I hear something profound, I keep it...for me. But I came to realize, this morning as I was on the train, that the blessing of composition whether it be words or sounds...has been given to me so that I might share it with someone that needs it.

Something happened in my life yesterday that was earth shattering, and has already proven to be life changing, for myself and many others. And there was something that was given to me a while ago, that if I'd shared it, may have given some hope in a seemingly hopeless situation. Have you ever heard a song, or read a poem that expressed exactly how you felt? A poem or a song can't fix a problem...but going through something and not having the ability to express it can be just as confining as the problem itself. This is what I would've shared...

Chains...that try to bind me
Chains...that won't let me go
Chains...they keep me from trying
Chains...please loose your strong hold
Chains...though I try to surrender
Chains...yet I still remember....
Whom the son sets free, is truly free indeed
Lord, please free me from these chains.

Chains...I'm a heart full of sorrow
Chains...I won't sleep well tonight because of these
Chains...How I long for tomorrow...
Because today, there are no tears left to cry...
Chains....Though it feels cold like winter
Chains...I will fight to remember...
That by your stripes, I'm healed....
To your heart, Lord, I appeal
Please free me from these chains...

of abuse
suicide
pain from my past,
that robs my peace of mind
chains of divorce
addiction and fear
being afraid to die
and afraid to live
chains of depression
(haven't laughed in a while)
restore my joy
and give me back my smile
I do love you, Jesus
(but not like I should)
I love you, Father
(but not like I could)
have mercy on me
I can't go on this way
save me, I'm lost
help me believe what you say
"This is just a test, though it's hard to see"
I surrender...you win
so now I ask you...

Please, free me from these chains....

I've decided that I'm going to share what's been given to me. Whether I'm given the words directly, or they come from someone else. Keeping with the thinking that everything happens for a reason, I don't believe that God gives me profound things to say for my benefit alone. Neither does he put me in the path to hear such things and not share them. So this is the first (well not the first, I kinda did this Tuesday too) of many entries that will very simply be me sharing words or art. I hope they serve a purpose in someone's life...

~MyMy
R.I.P Troy Vallenta

I want you to...

SEDUCE ME
write me a poem
tell me about the scent of musk at the nape of my neck
that you dream of spending sultry summer days between
my breasts
that if you could taste me
it would be mangoes and tropical breezes on your tongue
keeping you up at 2am
for weeks
staring at black ceilings
legs entwined in sheets
wiping your brow
wondering when the next will be
seduce me
write me a poem
drop those weak pick up lines
and overwhelm me with quotes from Nerudas 100 love sonnets
tell me i walk in beauty like the night
trace the lines in the palm of my left hand
decipher
then read and whisper their meaning to me
tell me my life line crosses your destiny
imprint your words on me like overnight scratchmarks
leave butterflies in my stomach
with honeysuckle syllables
that remind me of first kisses
and holding hands at recess
seduce me
write me a poem
that prays my name
and preaches our passion
chant a litany of our lovemaking to come
under your breath
with the faith of withered hands holding rosaries in cathedrals
until images of us entwined in each other
burn themselves inside our minds
like incense at mass
seduce me
write me a poem
with your eyes
lock glances for a moment
across a crowded room
soft smirk on full lips
and a slow deliberate blink followed by a flutter of
eyelashes
that says
damn I wish...
seduce me
write me a poem
with your body
approach me with the certainty of the tide
move to me without doubt or question
make me your origin
and your destination
let music be the catalyst that lets our bodies meet
spin me in an out of conga rhythms
lead me into a Coltrane wail
grind me into the bass-line
of between the sheets...
then pull me close enough
to feel our hearts beat together
when we dance
seduce me
write me a poem
that
that speaks of our timelessness
remind me it was you I loved in a past life
on some faraway continent
tell me I carry you in my genes
that I can't forget you if I tried
that our memories are engraved into eternity
that time is just a theory to us
seduce me
write me a poem
that needs no words
compose a silent sonnet on soft bare skin
where your caress on exposed back
speaks that syllable I need to hear you
a poem
where melding bodies become
the book
where shallow breathing becomes prose
where
you
seduce me
and
inspire me to write you the poem
that shows you how to love me

If I don't, who will?

I have a number of incomplete blogs that I will do my best to complete over the weekend. As a result of that, you will notice that there will blogs that appear in line before this one. It's just the way blogger does it, don't think you missed anything, lol. I just wanted to talk today (very briefly) about self-esteem and self worth.

Something that always bothers me is this comment, that on occasion comes up when people (haters) are talking about me. "Myra thinks she's the sh*t". I'll be honest, upon first hearing this, I want to rebut with, "No I don't!!!" This feeling is reminiscent of the feeling I used to get when I was younger and people (haters) would say things like "you think you cute because you have long hair" or, "you think you special because you can sing", or "you think you like that", and I would scream "No I don't!!!!". But the truth is, that's a lie. I do think I'm the sh*t. When I was younger, I thought I was cute because I had long hair, I thought I was special because I can sing, and I did (and still do) think I'm "like that". This is a concept that many people perceive as conceit, when in actuality it's a little something called self esteem. I can understand why there is so much confusion, as there is such an alarming lack of self esteem among women in general, especially in this area (never heard this from a man).

I think the reason the comments bother me so much is that 1. for a brief second I'm made to feel like I should apologize for being who I am; 2. I may have a strong sense of self worth, and very high self esteem, but I never...EVER make anyone feel like they are anything other than on my level. No matter who you're wearing, how beat your face it, the car you drive, your economic status, or even how you treat me...I do my best to treat everyone as the beautiful children of God that they are. Life deals people all different hands of cards, but we are all on the same playing field when it comes to our spirit and soul. And THAT'S what matters to me. Above all else, I can't ever remember saying "so and so thinks he's/she's the sh*t". Seriously, what am I supposed to think, that I'm "aight"...ABSOLUTELY NOT. I don't think it gets any hotter than me...and you should feel the same way about you.

You're saying two things when you make the comment "Myra thinks she's the sh*t", 1. That you don't think you are and 2. That you secretly think I am. So now I ask you, if not me...then who?! Don't punish me for loving myself when you hate you.

Groupies pt. 2 "The Homewrecker"

Hey Ya'll!

I haven't blogged in a few weeks, because I have been ridiculously busy....I know people say this all the time, but I really mean it. I've been at work EVERYDAY for the past....I can't even think about it. All I know is that I just had my first day off in a number of weeks, on Christmas Day. Needless to say, there hasn't been much time for the blog. I knew it was really bad when I reached in my fridge for a bottle of water and there wasn't any there because I hadn't had time to grocery shop. I knew the situation was futile when when I reached in further and realized there was no wine for the same reason....All in all, the few weeks of non-stop work have paid off and all is well, and I'm back into the swing of things (there's water AND wine in the fridge....and I'm blogging again, lol) .

With so much time having passed since my last blog entry, I have a few topics swimming around in my head. There are few things personally that I could talk about, but I don't know that I want to, lol. There are a few others that have happened to people very close to me since I last wrote, that are still a little too fresh to blog about, directly. But as you have probably gathered from the title of this blog, I will attempt to do so as indirectly as possible.

I've decided that I'm going to start a series out of this "groupie" thing. I want to start by saying that I am not basing the volumes of this series on my band. This is not some sort of secret memoir about the happenings behind the scene of the Uncalled 4 Experience. What it is though, is a collection of thoughts about things that I've witnessed in the many years since I've been going to the club, singing in bands, and just living in general. More than anything, I'm writing because I'm in no position to say these words to these people directly. Either because I don't know them and therefore don't have access to them; I don't care enough about their stupidity to bother; or they're living life and learning lessons that no one can teach but they must experience. Either way, I just want to get off my chest the things I've witnessed in their situations.

I guess it's only fair to first admit that we have all been in a groupie situation before, myself included. While there are extremes, it's important to recognize fault in oneself before attempting to correct it in others. I've been the "barely legal" hottie, that has gained the attention of "that n*gga", only to have my world revolve around his every whim and the sun rise and set on his behind. I think every woman is entitled to play this role, within reason, up until about age 22...MAYBE 23 if you started dating late. But even then, the mere fact that you're an adult should make you very uncomfortable with so much of your happiness depending on any one person to whom you haven't given birth. After that, it's ridiculous. Now, I must also include a sidebar. And that is...this does not mean that a woman should not love and care for a man that is doing the same for her. Nor does it mean that you shouldn't be completely consumed with someone that is consumed with you. But you should never be in so deep that you can't get out if you have to.

Unfortunately, all around the world, the population of women far outweighs that of men. The DC metro area is no exception to this statistic. Then if you eliminate all the bamas, dummies, gays, and deadbeats, that takes the ratio to even greater extremes (lol, I can't believe I actually wrote "bama" in a blog). So, since there are clearly not enough men to go around, what do we do? There are some ladies that take on the task of transforming a cute dummy or bama...more power to you ladies, this is a strategy that might actually work, I just don't have the patience for it. Then you have the hags that are more than happy to get with a fag as long as he will still screw HER on occasion (please don't blast me for using the word "fag", I mean in the most honorable way possible). Then there are those that have shacked up with one of the deadbeats because he's doing SOMETHING right, although I can't imagine what he could possibly doing that would outweigh all of the wrong, like...not having a job, paying child support (because the deadbeats ALWAYS have at least ONE child), or contributing to the household in ANYWAY, etc. etc. So what happens to the ones that are left? Are some of just detined to be alone, convert to homosexuality, or do we have to share them? HELL NO WE DON'T!!!

Never before in my life have I witnessed so many women that are willing to share a man. I've been seeing the situation in which a groupie broad will KNOW that the object of her affection has a family at home, and she will still come running everytime he calls, will abide by whatever rules he sets up for contacting him, will even lie if and when approached by his girl/wife, etc. This kind of groupie has a special name...Homewrecker. Of course, the homewrecker wouldn't have room to maneuver if the man wouldn't allow her in, but to talk about both sides, would double the length of this blog, and I DO need to get some work done today.

Now listen, I just want to be the first to say that I am not one to fight over a man. I'm just a firm believer that any man that is worth fighting over, would never do anything to put you in that position. But, when hearing these stories, all I can think is, "I would beat the spit out of that broad", lol. I know this sounds like the wrong approach, but let me explain. When you find out your man is cheating, or has cheated, your beef should definitely be with him. But when he cheats with someone that KNOWS about home, what piper does she pay?!

I've only ever been the victim of a homewrecker situation once before, and true to form, it was in my silly 21/22 year old phase (I'll explain how I KNOW this, in a second). Completely unknown to me, the "screwing" had been going on for a full year, and I was none the wiser. It was not until my boyfriend at the time, decided that he no longer wanted to cheat on me, at least not with her, that the situation began to spin out of control. You see, when I woman just wants to screw your man, unless he's a complete idiot, there's very little chance that you will ever find out about it. Here's why...a woman that is only after the "D", will not do anything to mess it up. Chances are, her and your man are homies...why would she want to blow up her boy's spot? He usually genuinely enjoys the time that he spends with her, and is relaxed and calm when he comes home. She's not going to call at obscene hours, and when you're around....IF you're ever around, she will keep a comfortable, but non-suspicious distance from you and your man. Why, because she has no desire to be who or where you are. Chances are, she may have a man too, and doesn't want to mess that up either. But when your man is dealing with a homewrecker, you will ALWAYS find out about it. Why? Because the Homewrecker believes that hers is a temporary to permanent position. She's waiting out her contract until the position she really wants becomes vacant, and she is going to do ALLLLLL that she can to be sure that when it comes time to fill it, that she's at the top of the list of candidates (forgive me for the extensive metaphor, I'm in staffing, lol).

What good does it do a Homewrecker to keep the peace in your house? Have you ever wondered why people love having temporary employees around? It's because they work harder than full time employees because they're trying to get a job...YOUR job, more specifically.
One of two things will guarantee a Homewrecker shows herself...the threat of the man leaving her, or if things get more serious in your relationship. That's when she has to step it up a notch. When you suspect your man is cheating, and you make the mistake of picking up the phone to call the other woman, one of two things is going to happen; either you're going to have a very short conversation with a woman that is telling you, not only does she not know what you're talking about, but any questions about your man, should be directed TO your man, or; you're going to have an hour long conversation with a homewrecker that is just gathering information to be used in your exit interview...you better watch your back, and pay attention.

Groupies!

I just want to warn everyone that I feel like preaching today, so get your amens and offerings ready...

As many of you know, I sing in a band.  The band is pretty popular and has a regular following.  Most of which are loyal fans that have followed the band since it's inception in the '90's.  There are quite a few things that I love about being apart of the band.  The comraderie, the creative outlet; of course, the perks that come along with being in a band, the fans, and many other things.  Then of course there are the things that I don't like so much.  Since these things are few and far between, I'm just going to talk about the thing...or should I say "things"...that bother me the most....GROUPIES.

I think I owe it to all of the fans to clarify the difference between a fan and a groupie.  A fan is someone that loves the artist, the work they do, and gives unyielding support to all of the efforts of the artist.  They may even have personal relationships with members of the band, as they have spent a considerable amount of time with them, in all types of social settings, and it isn't uncommon to have a friendly drink, or share a meal with a fan.  I LOVE the fans.  They're lots of fun, and are what it's all really about.  I will also say that some of my dearest friends are people that I've met at shows, fans are the greatest.  

The clearest difference I can think of between a fan and a groupie is that a fan will tell you when you didn't do so well...a groupie wouldn't dare.  A groupie, is a completely different breed.  They can be male AND female.  A groupie is one that will do whatever is necessary, even forfeit their own personal values, goals, ambitions, etc., to be "accepted" by the band.  They spend their money buying drinks, food, clothes, gas...whatever.  I think you get the picture.

The motivation for this blog came as I was speaking with a good friend this morning, and she told me about the pickle that a well known groupie in the area, has found herself in.  This poor child made the mistake of sleeping with someone that she thought was going to be her "ticket" into the inner circle.  Not only did she give up the bootie, but she then tried to position herself to be wifey.  Much to her dismay, and embarrassment, homeboy didn't want anything to do with her...past the boot knockin', of course.  Now, I will give her kudos in that, she definitely went for the gusto in her choice, but I think she shot a little too high, lol.  She's a little country and plain...  But, you know what they say, shoot for the moon and even if you miss, you'll still be among the stars.   But I digress....

So...in an effort to regroup, she then begins "talking" to one of the lesser players...and really starts to get in there.  The boy likes her, takes her out.  Shows her a good time.  He's cool enough, drives a nice car, knows all the right people...he's the king of fake pimpin'.  (By "fake pimpin'" I mean, he doesn't have any connections of his own.  No real identity outside of the people he knows and the places THEY'VE taken him.)  So she's thinkin', this ain't half bad...I guess I'll settle for this guy.  But what she doesn't consider is that these two men, (we'll call them Hollywood and Fake Pimpin'), are very close friends.  And she TOTALLY underestimates the male ego, and doesn't think it'll be a problem.  And of course, because God has such a crazy sense of humor, Fake Pimpin' finds out that his lady love screwed and went crazy for Hollywood.  Fake Pimpin' is not pleased, and proceeds to tell her that he will NEVER make her his girl, let alone his wife..."but we can still kick it".  That's not the worst part...she goes for it because she's so pressed to finally be a part of the "inner circle", no matter how many degrees of separation there are.  We won't talk about the issues Fake Pimpin' clearly has, because the thing with Hollywood really shouldn't be that big of a deal (between me and you Fake Pimpin' is a groupie too, so now he feels like she "settled" for him...and his little ego is clearly bruised), but she went for it...WTF?!!

There are a number of problems with this.  The girl has put herself in a position where she has now been black listed.  She might as well sew a scarlet H (for ho) on all of her clothes and resign to living the rest of her life alone.  Why?  Hollywood has already made it clear that he doesn't want her.  Fake Pimpin' can't get over himself long enough to realize that this area is so small, you can almost gaurantee you'll know someone that your mate has previously been intimate with.  But more importantly, she has STAYED with Fake Pimpin' so long, and EVERYONE knows they're together, that she is now OFF LIMITS to everyone else in the city.  When will people realize that it's not how many you screw, but WHO you screw.  This child has slept with two people in a three year period, and has been labeled a ho...ain't that a shame?  More than all of this, she is so short sighted, and groupie-minded (is that a word?), that she can't see that this shouldn't even be a problem for her...just move on, and date someone that has no connection to that circle...but what purpose would that serve in her ultimate goal?  This is just one example of how being a groupie can ruin your life, lol (that sounds a lot more serious than it really is).  

There's another instance I heard of recently in which a certain groupie was caught in a compromising situation with a local rocker, by his girl...this was not a happy time for any of them.  The word got out, now this one is labeled as a homewrecker and a slut...but true to form...she's still alone.  I'm not really sure what she hoped to accomplish here.  

Groupies live in a world full of delusion.   A fairytale land, if you will.  They think that what happens at the shows and the parties is real life.  When in actuality, it's only a small portion of the reality of each of the members of these bands.  While my band is a very important part of my life, it isn't the only part.  I think people think that local artists spend their nights at the shows, and anytime we aren't at the club, we're practicing, or getting ready to come back to the club...and that we lead lives of wreckless abandon...drinking, smoking, and partying all day everyday...hanging out with members of other bands, and kickin' with Flexx and Rain all day long.  When the reality is that most of us have jobs, all of us have families, many have children, hobbies, and all kinds of other things, very similar to everyone else.  So bearing this in mind...when you have a "club relationship" with one of the members of these bands, don't think that it's anymore than that.  In most cases, there is a man or woman, waiting for them at home.  YOU are not wifey, the woman that rubs his back at night and makes his breakfast in the morning is wifey.  I could go on, but again, I digress...

Groupies are a constant source of irritation and humor for me.  One in particular amuses me to no end.  She's nice enough, I guess.  I don't really know her, other than what I've seen at my shows, but this one is so pissed that things haven't worked out for her, that she's mad at the world.  It's as comical as pathetic to watch her linger to see if the object of her affection will give her the time of day...and as if it were written before the beginning of time...he never does...ever...and there she stands...with egg on her face.

I think the key to being a groupie that doesn't end up getting their butt beat, is that you have to play your position.  Don't try to do too much.  Know your role.  There's nothing sadder than seeing someone all puffed up full of air, for no legitimate reason.  The real danger in this, is that when you're all full of air, it takes little to nothing for you to be deflated.  Why would you want to put yourself in a position to be so easily destroyed?    

  

Is He Gay?

When I was younger, I used to watch in awe as my older cousins and some of my unmarried aunts would sit around and talk about how hard it is to find a good man.  Then listen to the older members of the family, married aunts, potential grandmothers, etc. convince them that there's very little time left before it'll be too late to start a family.  This was ridiculous to me for a number of different reasons.  1.  I wasn't aware that childbearing years ended in your late twenties to early thirties; and 2.  That a woman becomes unmarriable if she reaches thirty without ever having been married....like, that means something's wrong with me.  I would always kind of laugh at this, because I wasn't a part of this demographic just yet, and there was plenty of time for me to get married and have babies and such.  Then I got older, lol.  And now these rantings are more and more being directed to me.  The funny part is that, they only start talking to me like this when I'm single.  If I have a boyfriend, I think they at least think I'm on track.  But when I'm doing this, "Independent Black Woman" thing, they get VERY nervous.  

I had dinner with my mom a few Sundays ago, and told her about a guy I've been seeing, and her face lit up like a child on Christmas morning...and then, she wanted to know EVERYTHING.  Where we've been, what does he do for a living, what do you talk about...and after giving her all of the required info, she sat back, and after a deep breath, sighed, "I'm SO relieved you're dating"...HUH?!  LOL, when did I become an old maid?  I'm only 27 years old!  Gimme a break, PLEASE!!  As mentioned in a previous blog, I used to wish that I'd gotten married in my early to mid twenties, and had one or two children by now, but CLEARLY, that ship has sailed.  I am a certified member of the late twenties crew.  And more importantly, if I had married any of the men that I was with back then, I would be in a SAD state of affairs right now...trust me.       

Never in my life did I think that my mother would be having the "I do want grandchildren, you know" conversation with me.  While I am quite happy with the course that my life has taken, and my current "romantic" station in life, her probings have made me think about the potential suitors that have crossed my path.  This isn't so much an issue for me, as I don't really tend to "play the field" all that much, but I have dibbled and dabbled enough to know that it's kinda rough out there.  Especially for a woman with a mother with marriage and grandbabies on the brain, lol.  

There's a saying that all the good men are either gay, married, or dead.  I don't totally agree with this, as I have been blessed to find one or two that are none of the above, present suitor included ;-) ...but I've noticed that there are a few other categories that should be added to include the truly "unmarriable" men, that are running rampid through the land.  Let's add the "little d*ck and don't know it", the "big d*ck and don't know what to do with it", the "minimally- or un-employed", "the whacker than whack", and my favorite... "the already married, but just doesn't care"...OH, and you can't forget the "Mama's Boy"...that one might not seem so bad, especially since we're told from a young age to pay attention to the way a man treats his mother, and you'll know how he's going to treat you, but that can spiral out of control real quick...trust me.

With approximately 50% of all men falling into one of the categories listed above...and another 25% that are perfectly normal, but just not quite gonna cut it, that leaves approximately 25% of the men on the earth that are even worth the time of day, lol.  Don't get me wrong...like I said, I've been blessed to come across a number of those that fall into that final  25% (this area must've gotten more than it's fair share, lol).  But please believe, I get quite a kick out of watching the others try their hand.  I can imagine how this plight would cause a woman to be melancholy, and even see herself as desperate.  But I implore you to find the humor in it, and you'll be too busy laughing at these losers to even hear the biological clock your mother is holding to your ear.  

I think every girl has a gay friend from high school or college that she made a pact to marry and breed with in the event that she was still single at a certain age.  In most cases we choose 40, lol.  Unfortunately, my gay husband just bought a house with his boyfriend, so I guess I'm just gonna have to do it the old fashioned way, lol.    

  

No Rhyme or Reason....

I've spent the better portion of the day today trying to figure out what to blog about. I actually started a few different ones, but I tend to classify my blogs in two categories; funny and deep. And to be completely honest, none of the ones that I started today were all that funny OR deep, so I abandoned each of them, and settled for a mishmash of things that I've been thinking about. Hope you find this entertaining...

The greatest disappointment of my life in recent weeks has been Beyonce's re-emergence (is this a word?) on "the scene". I would like to preface allll of the coming statements by saying that I LOVE Beyonce. I'm a great big ole fan. Ok, I said it...now just keep all of that in mind as you read on. Ain't nothin' fierce about the A OR B side of "I am...Sasha Fierce". Jam and I had a listening party and let me just say...the cd ruined the party. I can't help but think, that this piss poor performance is what we would've been getting from Beyonce all along, had she been given the freedom to choose her own music from day 1. This gives me a new found respect for Poppa Knowles, and really does make me believe that she wouldn't be where she is today, if it hadn't been for him. Who woulda thunk it? Matthew Knowles isn't just a crazed pageant dad living vicariously through his children...the man really does know what he's doing. Hopefully he'll take back the reins before she goes too far over the edge...I will NOT blindly buy another cd from Beyonce...I will download a pirated copy of the next album, like every other skeptical american, in hopes that she has come back from the dark side...but I'm not willing to spend the $9.99 to find out. The whole thing was horrible. You've already heard the tolerable tracks on the radio...anything else on the album truly isn't worth the time you'd spend listening to it....trust me....However, I am just as adament about the fact that Jam and I absolutely WILL be going to see Bey at Madison Square Garden when the tour begins for what has now become a Jam-My shopping extravaganza/Beyonce world tour tradition. I told you I love the girl...

Next, let's talk about church this weekend in North Carolina. Let me start by saying that my Uncle Ricky has a beautiful church in Greenville, and the day after Thanksgiving, his church gave him an appreciation service. It was perfect timing, as we were all in town for the holiday and we all got to go. It was like a Moore Family talent show (see my sermonic solo here) but not without PLENTY of comedy. There is so much talent in my family, that it just makes me sick when I think about us not being the Jackson's (they don't have ANYTHING on us, Michael's the only one that can even sing!!). Anyway, All the Moore's in town were on the program. I would honestly say that only one performance was notable, but it won't be quite as funny without hearing this other part first...

So we get to the church, and take our seats. One of the evangelists gets up and begins devotion service....she starts with a series of scriptures...the funny part about this, is that she repeated the scripture four times before actually reading each passge. Picture this..."1 Corinthians 2:8-12...1 Corinthians 2:8-12...1 Corinthians 2:8-12....1 Corinthians 2:8-12"...I felt like I was playing BINGO or going crossed eyed or something. I wanted to scream, "just read the verses, I don't even have a bible with me, it's not even like I can read along with you!!!" So she goes on like this for 4 more passages of scripture...and ten minutes later, she begins the praise and worship portion of the service. She sings about five songs...and I won't comment on the quality of voice, because her praise was so pure and genuine that I KNOW it was sweet in the Lord's ears. What I will comment on though, is the "special" child on the drums. There was no keyboard player as of yet...but don't worry, he comes in later in the story...and this woman was singing sweet songs of praise...and this child is going off on the drums like Animal from the muppets the ENTIRE time she's singing. I think what blew me away more than anything else, is the fact that this was no cause for alarm for ANYONE else in the church except for those that came with me from the DMV. I tried to maintain my composure, but my baby brother Jeremiah....not so much, lol. So the lady opens up testimony service. Before anyone can think to get up and say anything....up jumps this man. Now...what we don't know is that he has brought his karaoke machine with him...he stands up and pulls a microphone out of his pocket and begins to talk...he pulls a tape out of the other pocket and proceeds to put it in the machine behind him. I text my baby brother and say, "If this man is loading mood music for his tesitmony...I'm outta here, lol". But what he did was sooooooo much better. He loaded a track for accompaniment to the song he wanted to sing for his testimony. The good part is that the man sounded just like Aaron Neville...the brother could BLOW, but this is testimony service, NOT Showtime at the Apollo.

There were numerous other tidbits that thoroughly tickled me, but I'll end with this one. Jeremiah text me and said, "Uncle Ricky plays the piano now?". I look up, and my uncle is sitting behind the keyboard, and banging away...and when I say banging...I mean banging. The keyboard was so loud that you couldn't even hear the people talking on the mic over the noise. My second cousin, Ricky IV, was on the program to sing a song. Imagine a little boy, 9 1/2, that wants to sing a song for his grandfather's appreciation service. He's a real boy...plays video games all day...football...is always into trouble...that kinda thing...but he likes to sing, so when asked what he wanted to do on the program...he said he was going to sing "Oh Give Thanks". As the service went on, he began to panic because he forgot how the song ends. I explained to him that this is the easiest problem to have because, usually if you can start it, the words will just come to you. But nevertheless, we went over it in our seats, and when they called his name, he was ready to go! He got up there and sang the first few notes of his song, and as if hit by a ton of bricks, my uncle's face lights up! And he give a look that says, "I KNOW THIS SONG!!!", and he DASHES for the keyboard. True to form he begins to bang on the keys and scares the living daylights out of Ricky IV....so now Uncle Ricky decides he's going to modulate the song...and now little Ricky is confused. So after he modulates, Uncle Ricky proceeds to play the song for about ten times longer than I'm sure little Ricky planned on singing it. So this poor child has gone from being scared that he's going to forget the words, to...being totally excited that he knows them and this whole thing is going over well...to being scared pissless because hs grandfather is playing the world's loudest keyboard behind him... and BADLY...to being totally confused by this thing called modulation...to being bored out of his mind because the song has gone on ten minutes longer than he ever anticipated singing it, lol. And all of this is going on while the man with the karaoke machine is gearing up for his next selection. It was like a scene out of a "Where's Waldo" puzzle...absolute chaos...I couldn't have asked for better, lol.

Blogging again...

Good Morning All!!

I've been toying with the idea of starting up the blog thing for a little while, and I woke up this morning with an urge to write....so here I am. I'm not quite sure what I'll write about just yet, but I'm sure something will come to me, and it'll be comical, if nothing else, but will hopfully make you go hmmmm....

I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving. I went to North Carolina to visit my uncle, along with the rest of my family from the DMV. We had a really good time. We spent the majority of the trip eating, playing phase 10, Wii, and Rock Band. It was awesome! I will say this though....I ate a ridiculous amount of food. I know what you're thinking; that's what Thanksgiving is about...but seriously, I went overboard. Friday night I literally fell asleep eating. I woke up at 3 am with a fork in my hand and a plate in my bed...it's too much, lol. Not to mention the fact that my only means of physical exercise is yoga, which I missed ALL last week...back on the wagon tomorrow....

SOOOO much has happened since I last blogged, I don't even know where to begin; or even if I should. I will say this....the most important thing that has happened in this lifetime, and by default, since the last time I blogged, is Barak Obama being elected the president of the United States of America!! I was so overcome with emotion the night of the election, I cried like a baby...literally. And then of course ventured out into the streets to share in the celebratory mayhem that errupted around the city. I truly don't know what McCain was even thinking when he entered this race. I'm going to to tell you what I THINK he was thinking, "No nigger is going to beat me to the White House...the american people just won't allow it". Who's got egg on their face now, homie?

I always give a personal update at the beginning of a new era of blogging, and I'm happy to report that all is well. I recently purchased a condo, and I'll be completely honest and say that it's probably the scariest thing that I've ever done, lol. Don't get me wrong, I'm ok...but there's the added stress of ALL of the responsibility that comes along with being a homeowner. It all came full circle this weekend when I was asking my uncle about a problem I was having with my dishwasher, and he said, "In your apartment? You better call the maintenance man to come look at it!" I said, "Uncle Gary, it's a condo...there's no man." And we both had a good laugh about that one. Then I came home and....FIXED IT MYSELF. It turns out that the water was shut off, but still, I did it myself, lol. Next if we can just figure out how to get the durn smoke detector to stop beeping, we'll be in business. I changed the battery and everything, and it just won't stop!

In a previous blog, I reference a conversation I had with my pastor in which he suggested that I ask God to "put me to sleep"; so I did. And true to form, God did exactly what I asked Him to do. The funny thing is, I'd forgotten what I'd asked, and couldn't figure out why I was so uninterested in everyone; men that is. Some of the nicest, most attractive, successful, and seemingly perfect men have been trying their hardest to "get at" me, and I've been totally and completely unphased by them and their advances. So much so, that I'd resigned to dating one guy, that was NOTHING like what I wanted in my mate, irritated me to high heaven, and was...shall we say...lacking...ahem...where it matters most. And on top of ALLLL of this, he wasn't all that bright, and was trying to play me!!! LOL. Not really trying to play me, but trying to run his high school game on me, and it served as a constant source of comic relief, but irritated me nonetheless.

As mentioned previously, I woke up this morning with the urge to blog, and before beginning this post, I decided to read over the others, and I came across "Put Me to Sleep", and remembered that this nonchalant attitude toward romance or anything of the sort was exactly what I'd asked for. And I'm so glad I read this, because I was beginning to think there was something wrong with me, lol. I think the real significance of this revelaltion is that I feel like He's waking me up. Don't get me wrong, this is no mushy profession of my love for someone, or an admission that I've found my soulmate or anything like that. Please understand that when the time comes to share that, it will not be in this forum. But what it is, is an acknowledgement that I feel something that I haven't felt in a really long time. Something that I feared I would never feel again. Please understand that I am not one of these women that thinks that my life isn't complete without a man. I will admit that I used to be. There's a saying that the easiest way to get over one man is to get under another one, lol. The problem here is that this actually works...but eventually it spirals out of control...and you lose yourself. Mainly because you don't know what you want, all you want is not to feel what you're feeling, and essentially you turn into someone that is chasing whatever will keep you from being alone. And then you wonder, "when did I become this person?". You give so much of yourself in a relationship that in the end, you have to take time to get it all back. I think God was waiting for me to get that, before allowing me to "feel" again.

Some of you may be wondering why I'm even sharing this. When I started writing this blog, I was going through something. Not this particular post, but the very first one in this series, back in April. I don't think there's anyone that knows all of the details of all that I went through, but nevertheless, it was a lot. In many of the cases that I was giving advice, or making pacts, I was doing it in an effort to get MYSELF through something, and take you all along for the ride. It was such a great feeling to hear from people that the things I shared also helped them through their trials. So essentially, I was giving myself advice too, and I think you all deserve to know how it all worked itself out. I can honestly say, God has done everything that He promised. Back in January, I would've never thought it was possible...and there were times that I got a glimpse of hope toward healing, but no real concrete conclusion to the process. The funny thing about emotional healing is that you don't know it's happened until you've forgotten you even needed it. OHHHH and I Thank God!!! (I know someone is tinkling on themself for that one, lol) So to everyone that finds themselves going through an emotional healing process, just be encouraged and know that there is an end insight. You just have to see it through to the end. It's not fun, it hurts, and you'll even feel quite numb at certain times...but you'll get through it. And just when you realize that you're happy, and complete, all by yourself, you'll find that you're able to feel things you'd forgotten how to feel. It's like riding a bike, lol.

Ghetto Tragedy

You all may have heard me use this phrase in the past. I can't remember who I got it from, but I assure you that I didn't come up with it on my own. Those that haven't heard it before are probably wondering exactly what classifies something as a "ghetto tragedy". A ghetto tragedy is something that can happen anywhere, but is only a tragedy in the ghetto, OR it is something that would ONLY happen in the ghetto, and therefore, is a tragedy. Example: Fried chicken/fish with no hot sauce...ghetto tragedy; Koolaide with no sugar...ghetto tragedy; showing up an hour and forty-five minutes late for your wedding in a Chevy Avalanche...ghetto tragedy; running out of plates at the buffet, and having to shut it down so you can wash more...ghetto tragedy; having a dry wedding, and your husband, groomsmen, and wedding coordinator sneaking into the kitchen and drinking...ghetto tragedy. I think you get the picture.

I think that's all I'm going to say about this one, ya'll comment with your examples.