Filed under: The Fact of the Matter... | Tags: Ex-Factor, Lauryn Hill, When it Hurts So Bad
Alicia Ayala
Conversations with my past.
“I want to believe things are different but I just don’t know.”
Was he talking about his baggage or mine? Ok so, both of us got in the way of each other after an unforseen circumstance that tore the relationship to pieces. And now that I think back on it, as much as we’d both been through over the years, being forced to endure the irony that life shoves in your face at just the right time can jack everything up…with some people it’s just not that simple.
My response to his statement felt more like a plea for my defense, trying my best to explain where I was, where I’d been and where I feel I’m going. A little awkward but of all people I could trust with the truth, it would be him.
“You gotta realize that I’m not the same girl you met when at seventeen, I’m not the chick that hurt you ‘back’ when I was in my 20’s…who’ll I’ll be 10 years from now? No clue but I just know I’ll be better. That’s all I can tell you.”
“Uh huh,” he said. It wasn’t like one of those ‘yea yea yea’ Uh huh’s, it was more like an ‘I’m pondering what you just said’ kinda Uh huh. The one’s where a breathy silence falls shortly thereafter.
“So why do you still eat alone?”
I didn’t know if I was speaking to a brick wall, deaf ears or a stunned freak but he really didn’t have much to say besides the question at the end. What was it his business anyway? With the exception of detailing the baby mama ex-wife drama, he didn’t say much more in the relationship I remembered either. I empathized with his frustrations in trying to do the right thing and it never being good enough. A single father of one and then two others children he fought tooth and nail to see, I could understand the strain. All in all he’s a good person and one of those that do take care of responsibility no matter what. But I think he let the drama poison him and then us.
But…but….but…..
But he’s the one that’s been around the longest. The one I feel most comfortable with, the one I can tell anything and not feel afraid or ashamed. The one that I know beyond the shadow of a doubt would take care of me even on his deathbed. He was the one that put a temporary hold on our Saturday play date to have two new tires put on the front of my car because they needed to be replaced. Not because he was cakin’ or trying to get something from me, but because he actually gave a shyt about my well being without asking anything in return. That for me is rare.
So we’ve been having a lot of these talks lately. Like, what if we tried to make it work, and what if we took it one day at a time. What if we approached each other fresh and worked hard to let go of the past. The what if’s sound good and comfortable, but the fact that we’d have to find a very large home for five kids and an SUV kinda scares me just a little. I like my city life and would be satisfied with a roomy townhome over a house in the hills. And who’s to say the lingering drama wouldn’t trickle into the household? What if, what if, what if. What if I really did pass on my Cali dreams for the sake of having stability and family? What if like everything else this is a catch 22 and what if he’s old news for a reason?
Think I’ll continue to eat alone (for now).
-black girl.
Filed under: Ninja PLEASE. | Tags: Christina Aguilera, Keeps getting better
Talk about a Friday afternoon.
My initial plan was to get down to the State Court house to fulfill a much needed promise but I’d left the office without all of the info I needed and pushed the deed off to Monday. Ended up doing lunch with D. to talk about some things, but this blog isn’t about that. It’s about what happened after my lovely lunch that would suffice as living proof of the conversation D. and I’d just had about ‘boys’.
After lunch I stop by the BP gas station on 14th to grab a sugar boost. For some odd reason the card machine wouldn’t accept my new Hello Kitty branded plastic ☺ and I was forced to try somewhere else. That somewhere else being a gas station right up the road and around the corner from my office. So happened to be right around the corner from Shady (name changed), whom until recently had dropped the label for good behavior.
Flash back to last night and a conversation I’d had with this roster mate. Interestingly enough it involved me mentioning to this fool that aside from finding snarly stringy ass wal-mart panties under his bed, he really wasn’t someone I’d consider a friend if we never did anything to nurture a friendship. Even with the panty issue I joked, “If a chick is going to leave panties they should at least be Vicki’s or better!” I never took him seriously and had no problem letting Shady know. Whether he chooses to hang around after that would be up to him.
And at this point in my life I’m pretty frank in what I want and honest with what category I put you in. So during our convo I was straight up with him letting him know that I was only interested in putting my energy into quality and substance, not whatever bullshit being brought to the table by whomever. In other words letting him know that whatever he was servin’ didn’t fly on my street. Telling him that I knew how many unnecessary lies he’s told during the course of our on-off thing wasn’t even my steelo. All he needed to know was where he stood and why I could care less about what he did and with whom based on his actions. The ‘we cool homie’ attitude had to be enough.
I’d discussed this during my lunch with D. also, expressing my disinterest in dating guys younger than I let alone my age in Atlanta because my life is just somewhere else.
“I think about my 401K and how I can expand my territory. I need a man that appreciates big girls that paint their finger nails red and pay attention to Wall-Street. Not these clowns I keep meeting. All most of them think about is P***, weed and alcohol. In that order.”
We laughed it off and even talked about different things I could do to re-position my presence and be available to the right kind of men. I even used the guy as an example along with a few others that I mentioned keeping around “for the sole purpose of having something in my back pocket until something worth my love came along.” But who wants to live like that? Gets old.
Now back to present and me going to the next gas station to see what the hell was up with my card. But it worked, I got my fix and was on my way. Once I get into the car and got ready to pull off, I see Shady. The very person I’d talked up with D. was sitting in his car at the pump with a young lady in the passenger seat. They were joking and laughing, and I was cracking up all the same because of how it got my attention. I noticed them because of thier playfulness and was thinking to myself, “Awe – a cute little couple playing in the car. I remember those days,” lol.
Seeing that I actually knew the cat I naturally walked over and said hello, introduced myself to his youngin’ and said what’s up to him. The look on his face was priceless lol. Spoke for all but 30 seconds like I would any ‘friend’ I’d see out and about…
“Where you headed to?” he asked.
“Oh back to work,” I smiled, “How was last night? (referring to his outing with the boys).”
“Oh, it was a good look,” he said.
“Great, glad it worked out. Nice meeting you miss,” I said before bidding goodbye to them both.
Thought nothing of it and went about my biz. I hadn’t pulled off all but 20 minutes and he was ringng my phone. I didn’t pick up because I wanted to reiterate the fact that he didn’t matter and no worries or stress. Then this idiot decides to provoke me with a text message:
HIM: U real out of order and you kinda need to check that stuff.
(Cue puzzled look on my face) errr? But since he wanted to make himself matter I responded…
ME: Wow really? I’m out of order for speaking to you at a gas station? Is that not what ‘friends’ do? You’re lame for that lol. I could see if she were a dime – then get mad at me for speaking to you. You have a lot of growing up to do.
Keeps gettin’ better!
-black girl.
Filed under: Reflections of a Black Girl | Tags: eric roberson, pretty girl
Adriana LopezI’ve been spending a lot of time rearranging. My thought process, surroundings, everything. I’ve got to start doing things differently. I mean like really differently. Change up my moves, habitat, friendship circles, style, patterns and attitude, everything…just all around different .
Call it one of those moments if you will. So happened my moment kicked in, has lasted a weeklong and is for the most part still in progress. I think what jump started it all was the issue with my pops among other things. The last time we spoke really opened my eyes to what life, family, love, God and everything else are really about. What really matters in the end. Those terms are just mere packages even. Shells. What goes on the inside is up to us. Obviously the more we put into these things the greater and richer they become. Viewing my life along those terms reminded me that I have to make adjustments in order to increase the richness of my own.
I have always lived my life pretty face first, charisma second and whatever falls behind thee last. As part product of a beautiful Virgo mother, I was taught from childhood that if your looks can get you far enough, your intelligence could get you the rest of the way. A firm believer that premium appearance was half the battle in life, my mother showed me “G” style how far putting those things ahead could get you. A few beauty pageant trophies and plaques later I could see why as a little girl I found this to be true. I can also say that this theory has gotten the best and worst of me. In some cases an oxymoron even. Putting yourself out there as attractive attracts a lot of things that may not be good for you. And if you’re living with everything else but your heart, well…you’re going now where fast in a car to no where, pretty girl. That can’t be me.
So by doing things differently I mean that I need to work on enriching some areas of my life that I’ve left unattended when things got tough. For most of my life I’ve been living face forward but very rarely did I rely on my heart and love to take me through. Been there done that and didn’t like the feeling. And you can’t blame me totally for it. Look at the society we live in. Where bitch is beautiful and bad is always good. One almost has to live with a certain degree of vanity and wit just to remain emotionally in tact while surviving the game. So yea I’ve been cold as ice when I wanted to be, and a warm-hearted bunny less often as time passed on but I want to live more this way. I am a firm believer that true ladies never denounce their ‘pretty girl’, but I’m also becoming a huge fan of the woman that lives with her heart first…thus filling every empty package of her life with the things that enrich it most, never forgetting to balance.
-black girl.
Jeremy Nedd | Parris
Day after the election my father calls to what I first thought to be a long lost hello. Who knows…perhaps he was one of the many men basking in an effervescent glow inspired by the surmounted success of a man just like him. A black man. President. Yea, that makes me want to call the 30-year-old daughter that I have virtually no relationship with. Shall I get started?
Now, I’m always open to a phone call from pops but I’m wise enough now to know that every call has its agenda. That day it happened to be for the sole purpose of indirectly checking on my mother and brother, whom both he refuses to call directly. I take the ex Marine’s orders and give him the low down on how crazy things have been. I know he can hear the stress in my voice hinting at the need for answers. Like…anyday you can step up and play real dad now. I continue to discuss how his son is going to hell in a hand basket and taking my mother to the grave with him. Stealing her life away by the second on some wreckless ish. What does this idiot do? Starts bitching about something between him and my mom and the divorce that happened fifteen years ago. I couldn’t believe my ears – but then again I could because I’d heard it all before.
There I was listening to something I had nothing to do with nor care about at this point in my life. It was almost as if he were trying to fling excuses as to why he abandoned his son. Me, I turned out a little psychotic, but still a good hearted and loving functioning member of public society. 🙂 My brother on the other hand, no. His birth was my dad’s pride and joy. And while my parents remained together, the two were inseparable. But, when my parents divorced my father made a huge mistake. He divorced a three-year-old little boy that had nothing but women around him to show him how life should be. Even now I find myself giving my little brother man-up talks, playing the role of this clown that won’t step up and be what he should. Instead, he calls and takes no pity on the fact that his son is going to become another statistic and fast. Every day my brother is being sucked deeper, so deep that he doesn’t even look at me the same. His eyes are different, he’s someplace else. Hope you can follow me.
I’m here, stuck with the burden of all this. When something happens, I’m the first one they call. When my brother does another phuked up deed I have to listen to my mother cry. In turn I cry and carry the burden of all of that and this guy. A man whose granddaughters don’t even know or recognize by face has the nerve to call me on some slickness. At that moment, as the poison seeped through my ears and into my heart, I shook my head slowly and felt the cry coming.
Sitting there at my desk, staring at a computer screen flooded with unread emails, I felt my ears getting hotter. I blinked an overflow of tears and wiped my face quickly before someone came by. All of it was too much and I was so disheartened and disgusted by my father’s behavior and attitude in all of this. And what’s sad is that I don’t even think he realizes how much he’s impacted the life of the son he’d left behind. How his neglience has attributed to the decisions that my brother has made, and God forbid he make a son thus continuing the destructive cycle. After a few minutes of the nonsense I ultimately concluded that I didn’t have to listen to his illegitimate gripes and asked, “So, are you going to do anything to help? Can you at least call him?”
“Maybe, I mean what do you want me to do about it?” He replied to the question not realizing he’d just finished the conversation.
Put him on hold…and never went back.
-black girl.
Filed under: Flicks, Music is My Life | Tags: beyonce, If I were a boy video
I’m beginning to wonder if life would be much simpler this way…
-black girl.
Filed under: Political Pleasures | Tags: 2008 Election, Barack and Michelle Obama, Chrisette Michelle, love, President of United States
I waited to write on purpose. Partially because I was in a state of shock, but mainly because I wanted to take it all in before digesting and regurgitating soon thereafter. I wanted to take in the radio commentary and early morning news coverage that recapped a night in history I never thought I’d live to see. I wanted to take in the air around me today because it was different. Shoot, waaay different.
We were pretty much chilling around the crib surfing channels when this came to my blackberry:
—– Original Message —–
From: NYTimes.com News Alert <nytdirect@nytimes.com>
To: XXXXXXXX
Sent: Tue Nov 04 23:11:50 2008
Subject: News Alert: Senator Obama Will Win Presidency
Breaking News Alert
The New York Times
Tuesday, November 4, 2008 — 11:08 PM ET
—–
Senator Obama Will Win Presidency
The New York Times projects that Barack Hussein Obama will be
elected the 44th president of the United States, sweeping
away the last racial barrier in American politics with ease.
Read More:
http://www.nytimes.com/?emc=na
[end]
That’s when we tuned in and glued eyes to the television in awe. My mouth was open, and I may have fallen asleep the same because I woke up the next morning ready to catch flies, lol. I went on through my day trying to behave as normal as possible, soaking up the reactions of friends, family, the world and everyone else. Kept the television locked on CNN all day while I worked, occasionally fighting giggle bursts when I’d hear things like “Learn what’s next for the first Black President of the United States,” or I’d see images of Michelle Obama’s bangin dress as she held the hands of two little girls that reminded me a lot of my own.
I’ve watched people talk about how our Nation is now on the right path because of our new leader, and I’ve heard folks say that they’re ready to see how President Obama will tackle the issues. I’ve heard a lot of weight being placed on one single man. But I see fit to remind you that this entire movement is larger than one man, you or I as individuals. The real feat behind this historic moment is not that a Black man ran for President and won because the real fruits of our success have yet to be seen…
If Barack Obama does nothing more for this nation and the world I think he has done more than enough. If Michelle Obama does nothing more for the little Black girl with low self esteem , she’s done more than enough. Many of us have never tasted the jump highs of success let alone enjoyed being a part of the winning team. And for the first time in history we can all share in something that has perhaps even broken the spell-like trance of apathy, ignorance and isolation that has plagued Black people for so many years. That in itself is more than enough when I see people feeling good, focused and ready to try new things because they have seen what can be accomplished through focus, strategy and LOVE. What this means to African Americans should be a hell of a lot more than the obvious “Black man in the White House”. There is always a deeper meaning.
We’ve gotten a taste of what it feels like to have the rest of the world follow an unconventional lead and support what’s right vs. what has always been. I’m thinking that little Black boys held their heads a little higher today because for once they weren’t being publicly recognized as the coon, thug or villain. They were able to see themselves as heroes and leaders because someone has shown them through love and a passion for community that there are options and alternatives if they work wisely toward them. A Black couple on the verge of divorce could have very well decided to stick it through because through this election they were reminded of what Black love should look like. How it should move, breathe and feel in the face of adversity and hard work.
At the end of the day it’s not about race, how we’ll dig ourselves out of the money crash, nor is the priority on how we’ll strengthen foreign policy. I have an uncanny feeling that for the Obamas, the decision to put their lives on display and risk everything was grounded in something far greater than simply “tackling the issues.” I think that like myself, their key motivators have a lot to do with a future that can be given to a people by showing them how its done.
…and that’s love.
-black girl.
Filed under: Political Pleasures | Tags: barack obama, Early voting, election day, November 4th
Took a day away from the office Friday to do what I promised myself and my family I would do. Vote! I’d ended up getting a later start than usual because I’d attended the ‘Taste of EBONY’ Culinary show the night before. Even though I managed to get in, do my business and get out in an hour, I was still exhausted when my head hit the pillow a little after midnight. Getting up as early as planned kinda flew out the window but still…I got up.
Went to the Pryor Street location downtown where I was told the wait wouldn’t be too long. Somebody was joshing me because when I drove up at 8:08 am, the line had already stretched up MLK and back down Peachtree Street for at least two blocks. Hundreds of people were waiting in the cold hoping it would be their turn before noon. Sorry but that wouldn’t be me! Needed a plan B because not even the two layers of clothing I was wearing could protect me from the agony of standing for hours in freezing weather. Got Sasha on the phone…
“Hey girl. Where are you?”
“Waiting to Vote. There are sooo many people here.”
“Ok I’m coming to where you are,” I said.
“Cool I’ll get you a number.”
A number I thought. They’re giving people numbers now. Damn this is serious.
When I got to the location I was amazed. Hundreds of people had taken over the Adamsville recreation center off of Martin Luther King Jr. Drive (ironic ey? Lol). I found parking across the street and prepared myself for the long haul.
When I walked into the gym I couldn’t believe my eyes. Brown people from all walks of life took up every bleacher and every corner of free space in the building. They were coming out as entire families to do something the majority of them had never done before: exercise their right to vote.
“This is my first time voting,” a Spelman Sophomore told me later in the day. She’d lost her best friend in the Iraq war. The military was his last resort because he was unable to find a steady job. “Six months later he was gone and I never saw him again,” she said. I could only imagine the number of other stories similar to hers.
Sasha and M were camped out against a wall on the other side of the gym. In a sea of hundreds I was number 795. Too bad they were only on two something. I wasn’t complaining because at least I was inside of a gym with a place to sit! Not to mention beating the several more hundred folk that came pouring in shortly after I’d gotten there. There were so many people that they had to start the ticket numbering back at one with a different paper color. So, if you were number 905 on a white ticket, you’d be going long before number 500 on an orange one. I ate time scribbling mathematical formulas on napkins trying to calculate how much time I had left before my turn came. Even helped a new friend, Jason, figure out how long he’d be waiting in dress slacks and loafers.
“I thought I’d come down and get it done in a couple of hours,” he said. Before long he gave in to the cause, sliding his back down the wall until he reached a sitting position next to me. “This is unbelievable.”
Since they’d gotten there earlier time with the girls was short lived. Soon I was left alone with my blackberry, cell phone and the persons huddled against the wall to my right and my left. By 12:30 I was starving and my arse was hurting something serious but still…I waited it out.
Six hours total but I’d cast my vote. The longest I’ve ever waited in anyone’s line to do anything in my entire life. Hell, I don’t even go to the club if waiting in a line is a part of the deal. If I could have found a way to get around it trust me I would have! But there are just some things in life you can’t get past and you have no choice but to wait it out and do your part. I’m just glad I got it out of the way.
Get to the polls as early as possible on November 4th because I have a strange feeling that its about to be on and poppin’. Change is definitely in the air, just don’t forget to do you part (no matter how long it takes) so that the rest of the world can smell it too.
GOBAMA!
-black girl.
Filed under: The Fact of the Matter... | Tags: duke ellington, sentimental mood
Dulcinee
Not too long ago I went back to something I thought I wanted to taste just once more. No real reason but for the pure curiosity of sealing an old deal for old times sake. And maybe a few other reasons too but…now that the thrill has come and gone I can say something I thought I wouldn’t be able to say for a long while. The hold is no longer. Gotta keep walking forward but still, its all love. I’m just thankful that the door has finally closed.
-black girl.
Black Girl In The City. 
