The 'L' Word.

How many times have we heard it? "I Love You." How many times did we actually feel loved? Really?
I don't hate love and I'm not a cynic. I believe in love, but not that false love that weakens the actual word and meaning.
That word, diluted down to "love-flavored juice," slips too easily from our lips now. We use it an excuse, a shield, a distraction and we abuse it so much that when you hear it you automatically think, "yeah, right."
What happened to it? The word I mean. When did we start abusing that word? When did we start to believe that using it was a sign of weakness or for opportunity purposes only? When did the 'L' word become the doppleganger for destruction?

We only get so many real "I Love You-s" in this life, why waste them on games and deception?

Something is truly wrong when someone tells you they love you and you don't reciprocate, but instead, go numb. A friend told me, "Oh, you've been hurt before and now you don't trust anyone." I beg to differ. It's not a trust issue; it's a misunderstanding of the word itself.
It's lost in songs, poems and romantic comedies starring J-Lo.
It's lightly-dusted with exhaustion instead of smiles, giggles and that oogie feeling you get in your stomach. You get me, right? When you hear it said, it should sound like a song.

Where is the Boyz-II-Men, "End Of The Road," BabyFace "Whip-Appeal," "anything-by-Billie Holiday-love," that lies within my soul like powder, waiting for the right version of the word to 'add water and stir vigorously?' I'd drink THAT Kool-Aid and gladly leave that red, fruity ring around my lips.

Diversity & Contradiction

Okay, so I'm a short, black woman with big curly hair and a big butt. What does that have to do with the quality of my work? Apparently, quite a bit. I'm not surprised that veterans of journalism say that my personal branding or more specifically, my physical appearance will need to change if I want to be a Barbara or a Diane or a Katie. That's traditional thinking and also a logical fallacy. What bothers me more is that as I sat in class and the topic was discussed among the great minds of honor students and Master's students, I was surprised at how many of those great minds and future journalists also believed the same thing. I was a little angry at the way thinking HASN'T changed all that much and disappointed at the thought that I may have to work alongside or God forbid, under one of these 'great minds' who think that conformity is the best way to go. What is different or unique about yet another black woman journalist having to adapt a 'Miss Kentucky Pageant Bobbed-Haircut' in order to have a career in journalism? What is all of this talk about diversity if we are not willing to accept great journalists as they are and not as cookie cutter images sitting behind a desk or producing great news?
I had a couple of interesting conversations with two African-American women in that class. One told me that she just 'plays it safe' by wearing her hair straightened and another told me that I should first go out and make my name and then return to a hairstyle that not only celebrates me and my personality, but looks damn good? What are we learning in college? What is going to be different with these graduates that hasn't been done already? Why am I teaching my own daughter that hard work will speak volumes, when college is preparing it's students to go out and be sheep? Am I being too sensitive or too passionate? I accept that older people have problems with change, but lately it seems that younger people have already decided to go with the flow and worry about change later. Where is the diversity in that? Why can't I put on a suit and rock my big curly hair at the same time? Where do you draw the line once you start complying with the 'norm?'

Interracial Dating & Marriage

I recently read a blog about a black athlete with a new reality show where he's "looking for love." The controversial part of this is that he dismissed the sisters immediately. Rumor also has it that he didn't even want the sisters on his show to begin with and asked that they be released before the show went to air. No surprise there.
What I found hurtful and irresponsible were the men who posted comments in support of this and in their justification, made a lot of bullshitty comments about black women.
They stated that only black women have a problem with interracial dating & marriage. Oh really?
Lots of people; black, white and striped have a problem with it. Don't blame black women for that. Next, they call black women who want to date & marry athletes 'gold diggers,' along with a few more generalizations about ALL black women.
I'm gonna take a moment to exhale here before I start.
Okay.
How can ANY man, let alone a black man even TRY to speak about what black women feel, experience and want. We are individuals, so how can you lump us all into one group and label us in that manner?
I'll tell you what I've experienced from others in general when it comes to being a black woman; hate, betrayal, deception, disloyalty, blame, pain and lack of appreciation. I've also experienced love, joy and hope. I'm no victim, not by any means, but I happen to believe that black women are the most disrespected people on the face of this earth. A big reason for this is that [some of] our own men do it. That makes us an easy target for everyone else. We have few who will defend us.
Back to the subject. I have no problem with interracial dating and marriage. I wouldn't even be here had my ancestors not dared to fall in love and marry. I've dated outside my race too.
Here is MY problem; some of the black men who only date non-black women have a chip on their shoulder about it, so they justify their 'preference' by disrespecting black women.
Why? If you are satisfied with your choice, then why defend it at the cost of degrading your own race? Why defend it at all?
Not taking full ownership of your choice is the problem here!
You don't want to date or marry one of your sisters? That is your choice, but don't make it our fault. That is your bag to carry.
Next, the gold digger comment.
What woman, black, white or striped doesn't want to marry a rich man? Why is it that most of the time, black women receive that label?
We aren't worthy of having a rich hubby?
We aren't supposed to live well?
We aren't supposed to want to have a comfortable life?
I also question the reason SO MANY black men, especially rich black men, serial date or marry white women? It seems like they equate their own worth with what society views as worthy. Status maybe?
True love is a beautiful thing and I'll welcome it no matter what color he happens to be, but I will NEVER sell out my beautiful black brothers.
This subject is controversial, no doubt and there are bad apples in all races and both genders, but speaking as a black woman, I've had to fight 3x as hard for everything I have and want. Jobs, pay raises, promotions, respect from my co-workers are things I have to fight for because no matter how qualified I am and no matter how educated I am, I still have to deal with racism, but fighting the disrespect from my own brothers is something I shouldn't have to do.
I remember stories handed down through my ancestors about what happened to the women in our family during Slavery, Civil War, The Reconstruction, Indian Schools, Civil Rights Movement and more. Black women could be beaten & raped by a white man at any time and she would be blamed for it. Black women were accused of 'casting spells' on white men and deemed as sex-crazed creatures that white men were unable to defend themselves against. Our black men were beaten or killed if they dared to defend us.
Those stories hurt. They will always hurt.
So when [some] black men who date non-black women open their holes and spout logical fallacies that send us right back to what our ancestors had to endure, it hurts us. There's a difference in that hurt because they don't HAVE to relegate us, but they CHOOSE to do it anyway. They CAN defend us, but they CHOOSE not to.
Why do we have to pay such a high price because YOU have a 'preference?'
Thank you ancestors, thank you for being strong enough to endure, brave enough to accept the consequences, loving enough to stand together and smart enough to know bullshit when you hear it.
I'm out.

Help Meet

Okay, so I DON'T know everything.

A recent conversation with a close friend introduced me to the term 'help meet.' I asked what it meant and I thought he was kidding me at first with his answer. I thought it sounded like some outdated archaic law that may or may not have been part of the original Bible. My backbone stiffened up and I refused to bend, but I wanted to understand my friend, because he's not the type of person to say things like that in a joking or derogatory manner.

Sooo, I went to Google and I found Genesis 2:18;

Then the Lord God said, "It is not good for the man to be alone; I make

him a helper suitable for him."

It didn't immediately hit me but it's sinking in now what he meant.

Have we really grown so far into independence that we think we can be alone? Why would we want to be alone? I'm not saying that we lower our standards or anything like that, but we were not meant to walk this life alone, right? I get it now.

I get that the years I spent alone, thinking I didn't need a man was wrong. I DO need that man. Women need men and Men need women, there's no weakness or shame in admitting that. I get that all the hard work I'm putting into this career change won't be half as gratifying without someone to share that success with. I really had to stop and put my own swagger in check.

I'm a 40-something year old single woman, never married. Many of those years I never lifted my head up to see what was there. I was determined to succeed even at the cost of never being in love or being married. As I get closer to to my goals, I see how foolish that was.

Nothing is a colder reminder than flying in from a 6 wk. trip abroad and there's no one there to greet you at the airport, no one holding up a sign with your name on it, grinning and waving, no one to hug you and tell you how much they love and missed you. That is the loneliest, most emptiest feeling and something I never want to feel again ever.

So we have Women's Lib? Women's Rights? Equal Rights for Women? All good things, heck better than good, great things, but did the definitions become subjective?

What is wrong with being a help meet? It entails being everything we want to be for our men anyway, does it not? Help meet doesn't equal doormat or a woman being subjugated by her husband.
I want to support the man I marry in any way I can, I want to be the reason he goes out each day and grinds, I want to be the reason he comes home everyday, I want to be the reason he can get up and deal with whatever problems come our way, I want to be standing right next to him and when necessary, behind him, I can let him be a man, I want to rub his back and kiss away the worry lines across his forehead, I want him to know that I will never abandon him, I want to have his back no matter what and I want to be with that man for the rest of our days in this life.

I don't believe in '50-50.'

Some days it will be 60-40, 70-30, 80-20 and 90-10.

Isn't that what it's all about? Sacrifice, harmony, love, trust and mutual respect for one another?

This is my confession and I gladly give it over to fate.

I'm out.

American Men vs. European Men

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Enough

I'm tired y'all. When you are placed in a position that you need to convince someone that you are "the one," It's not worth it.
Why is it he can depend on me, but I CANNOT DEPEND ON HIM?
Why do I have to hear the list of reasons that don't have shit to do with me? Your exes, your issues, you, you, you! You don't know me at all. You know the 18yr. old girl, not the 40-something yr. old woman.
I notice the small things you do that tell me what the real story is; You say "Love ya" instead of "I Love You," and when you feel like you might lose me, you pull out the old speech.
Fuck your speech! I'm here NOW, tomorrow is not guaranteed to any of us.
The time YOU placed between us has given me more than you know. TIME to think, TIME to consider and TIME to leave.
I'm out.

Shaming the Devil; Real Talk About the Black Sheep

Okay, so I have a brother who has cast himself in the role of the family outcast. He intensely studied the role and is ready for the Oscar. If ever there was a person so toxic that you can't even mention their name without getting pissed off, that's him. If there is a person you hate to see coming, if there is a person who causes you to close and lock doors inside your house while he is there, that's him.

Lemme give some backstory;

We were raised by our mother, a woman who worked her ass off at General Motors, made good money and spoiled her children like most parents who can afford to do so. My brother is the oldest, my sister, the youngest and of course I'm the middle child. We took trips every year, we went on vacations, we went to concerts, festivals, professional sporting events, stageplays and anywhere mother thought would interest us. We had brand new school clothes every year and since we were brats and wanted things no one else had, mother took us shopping outside the city. My brother had the most expensive sneakers always and any extra little things that boys wanted at his age. Our grandparents also spoiled us. My grandfather was a country man at heart and kept a farm outside the city where among other animals, we had our own horses. We were lucky children, I know.

For some reason, Bonehead (I told you I can't say his name w/o getting pissed off) was never satisfied with any of it. Mother indulged him even more, but it was never enough.

This triflin ass man went off and had a baby with an equally retarded basket case ( who will be referred to as 'the muppet' from this point on) and mother stepped in to assist them with everything, and I mean EVERYTHING. Baby needs, furniture, food, electronics, toilet paper (you heard me). These two lucky little ingrates had mother wrapped around their fingers.
I will tell you that I lost count around the 17th time they were evicted from an apartment. Not just evicted, but their shit was actually set outside on the effin curb! I couldn't make this up if I tried. Each time, mother was there to pick up the pieces, pay a deposit on a new place and re-furnish the new place. Nice gig, huh?

Again, this was never enough. Bonehead bad-mouthed mother and my grandparents whenever he had fresh ears who would listen to his bullshit. He bad-mouthed my sister and I. His situation was everyone else's fault. Asking this turd to get a job was like asking Aretha Franklin to wear her own size, it just wasn't going to happen.

Sitting on his ass and manipulating mother with her grandchild was his job and he was good at it.

I think this was around the time he decided he wanted to be a rapper. Filthy lyrics about bitches and ho's and violence was all he rapped about. He wasn't raised that way and by then, he was 35 fucking years old! I believe he had surgery too, a 40-ounce bottle of Olde English 800 was surgically attached to his right hand. Somehow, he guilt-tripped mother into supplying him with cigarettes. Bitch ass, right?

Returning home for funerals and visits, I could see that he and the muppet still hadn't moved one inch towards any type of independence. I found myself avoiding him because I didn't want to hear lies and I didn't want to be cornered to listen to his newest rap song. He started calling himself the black sheep of the family around the time my grandmother passed away. He'd show up at family functions with brand new clothes on, while the muppet looked as though she played an extra on Little House on the Prairie. If my sister was there, he took it upon himself to make sure others hated her, mostly with lies. The same with mother. I never got that. Biting the hand that feeds you, what's up with that?

My brother finally married the muppet after 22yrs. of evictions, domestic violence, deceptions and because nobody else would have him. He went out of his way to NOT invite mother to his wedding. Why? That is the ultimate smack across the face. Wait, I'm not done, she PAID for the wedding! Yes people. She told me that it didn't bother her, but I know better than that. Had I known of two guys with vaseline-coated baseball bats, he and the muppet would have had an extremely disturbing visit in the middle of the night.

Fast forward a bit and now, Bonehead had 'found God,' or rather he's found an opportunity to con and misuse the Church. Suddenly, he's quoting the Bible as though he wrote it himself. He's talking about his pastor and how much the church has done for him (like paying their bills, driving their cars, etc.) We all know this is bullshit because a changed man would ask for forgiveness. A changed man would get down on his knees and beg his mother to forgive him. A changed man would REALLY change.
Now, hiding within the church, he's acquired a taste for suits, not nice ones, but nice to him. Think about all the pimp colors or just a bag of skittles and there you go. Now, he looks like a short, fat, balding country pimp in a lemony-lime suit with matching shoes and hat. The muppet still looks like Laura Ingalls with a nappy pony tail and the beginnings of a sheep's ass growing down her neck.
Soon, Rev. Bonehead decides to buck up and is thrown out of church. He moves on to another church and is quickly tossed out of that one as well. HOW IN THE HELL DO YOU GET KICKED OUT OF A CHURCH? I don't know what he did exactly, but damn, TWO churches?
Mother decided to extend help to Bonehead and the muppet once again. She allows them to move into my grandparents home. My grandfather is old and needs someone there with him. We didn't find out until much later after my grandfather passed that Bonehead was abusing my grandfather. I tear up even now thinking about it. How afraid he must have been, in his own home. Our family Patriarch, the rock, the only father I will ever recognize, who never raised a hand to us, who loved Bonehead so much because he never had a son, was being beaten and humiliated by his own blood and he was too scared to say anything. When he finally passed, Bonehead started wearing his clothes, yes, you read it correctly. Mother had to evict them because not only did they refuse to pay rent, but Bonehead moved in a tenant, his mistress and her son, a violation of the contract and a violation of life itself. The muppet never said a word. What did he do when mother confronted him? Swell up like he was going to hit her. Oh, I didn't tell you? Bonehead likes to hit girls as well as old people.

Bonehead suddenly left town. Rumor is he stole a bunch of pimp suits from some Arabs who are on his ass now. They even went into the church to retrieve his sorry ass, but the pastor talked them out of it. Who brings that kind of drama into a church?
He looked up an old family friend and immediately situated himself in their family home, oh yes, with no $ and no job. Family friend contacts me with some concerns, we swap notes and Bonehead is tossed out. Now, Bonehead, who ran off leaving the muppet to take the heat for his bullshit has decided to contact the muppet and convince her that their daughter needs to support them both, because "That is what the Bible says." The muppet has grown a little backbone and has decided that she will not ask for, but DEMAND $ from my mother. Oh sooky-sooky now! That is it! I'm done sugar-coating and I'm done allowing the demonic duo to deny mother of the peace she deserves to have.
I'm shaming the devil, I'm telling the truth. Of course there's so much more, this is but a small sampling of the highlights. Why am I writing this? Because out of the years of listening to and witnessing his bullshit, not just him, but the muppet too, I've had it. How can you try to be a family with someone like that? Someone who is always looking for the con in everyting, the grift. Someone who if you shake his hand, you better count your rings, watch and hell your fucking fingers too. How many times do you invite the devil in before you realize that you don't change the devil and ultimately, the devil changes you?
I'm out.

Who's Gonna, . . . . .?

Last night, I found myself helpless, for the moment. I really needed some help last night. I needed the assistance of a man. No, NOT that kind!
I was really upset and I called on not one, or two, but three men for help. Know how many helped me? Zero. One was asleep, one never responded to my 911 text and the last one never answered his phone.
While I gathered my composure and got the job done on my own, I thought, "damn, not one of these men cared a damn about me!"
That is worse then a kick in the gut and I know this because I've been kicked in the gut before.
How did this happen? I've been there for all three of those sorry ass futhermuckers and not one cared enough about me or my emergency situation to help me.
My professors and my mentor are always on me about not asking for help when I need it. This is why. You get crushed most of the time. I'm fiercely independent. I like to think that I can do anything myself and last night was no different. Without so much as a pause, I went into survival mode. You'd be surprised at the things you can accomplish when you have no choice.
I cannot even remember the last time someone was there for me without conditions. Trusting is hard to do. I don't expect the world, but I expect that when I'm broken down enough to ask someone, a so-called friend to help me, that I receive that help. People let you down at the worst possible moments, no? I learned a lesson and I passed it on to my daughter. Your 'plan B' for life better be YOU, doing it all on your own.
Think about that the next time you get a phone call from a friend who really needs your help and you choose your selfishness instead. I'm out.

One Man's Definition of Struggle is Another Man's Definition of Thriving

Okay, so I'm talking to a friend who is complaining about how hard her life is. She can't find a job, she can't get her husband (they've been separated for two years) to do his part, she has no money, the carpet in her house smells bad, she can't afford the dogs she has, her car is still in the repair shop, she has to take the bus to school and anyone who doesn't stop, drop & roll over for her when she needs something has some personal grudge against her. Sound familiar?
Because I have a lot on my plate and today was just not the day I wanted to hear such spoiled, ungrateful whining, I cut her off.
You're anxious to hear what I said, right?
She can't find the job she wants, so therefore, there are no jobs. She's a snob, so even though she's "struggling," humbling herself to work at a fast food place is still beneath her.
Her husband is a jackass. He was a jackass when they dated and she still married him, warts and all. Now all of a sudden we have to pity her because he's not doing his job? And she still refuses to divorce him? C'mon.
She lives in a house owned by her mother. So she has no bills. Any money she has is misused, hence the reason she has no money. How about eliminating your weekly marijuana/Paul Masson wine budget from your life?! Yes peeps, Paul Masson!
The carpet in her house smells because she has two dogs, nuff said.
Her car is still in the repair shop because someone else is paying for the repairs, she's whining because her car situation is not at the top of their list.
She can afford the dogs, but must they eat 'Beneful' if you're on a budget?
She takes the bus to school on the rare occasion her mom can't do it. Lots of people, myself included, take the bus to school, what's the problem?
If her special order burger is taking too long, then there's a conspiracy at work. The dude working the grill has a problem with her apparently.
If she doesn't get a call back on a job she's not qualified for, there's another conspiracy. No one wants "to see her get ahead." Does any of this sound familiar?
She has a warped idea of what struggling really is.
Dimples only get you so far, and then personality becomes a huge factor.
I say all of this to make this point, she has a better situation than most. She is such an ingrate that she can't see how much is actually being done for her.
I welcome a chance to not have to worry about rent/bills.
I wish I could give my daughter a dog, but we can't afford it.
She has vices and luxuries and lives past her means. Even her dogs have designer dog food and someone else foots the bills for her comfortable living. Is that struggling?
I'm not going to whine about my own personal struggle, because what difference does it make?
People outside her little bubble don't jump at her request because they don't have to.
Most will help you if you're helping yourself, I see that, I live that and it is true.
No one will help an unemployed married woman in her 40's with a bad attitude, a sense of entitlement, two kids, two dogs, living in a nice home, eating 3+ squares a day, partying on the weekends, blowing off any chance for a real education, blaming everyone when her lights get cut off while she's "Looking For Mr. Goodbar."
I'm out.

One Man's Struggle is Another Man's

Have a Favorite Celeb or Athlete? Don't Ever Meet Them!

When I was a little lass, I had a few favorite celebs. I was naive enough to think that they were the sweet, polite people they show you on the tube. Well, I'm not so little now and far from being a lass and since I've been meeting/interviewing celebs, I warn anyone who has this idea of their favorite built up inside their head. Don't ever meet your favorite celebrity!
They are just humans like the rest of us, warts and all. They get tired, don't feel like talking, run out the back door to avoid fans and interviews, have "bad days" and can get pretty rude when you least expect it.
Now, because I do meet and interview celebs, (I will not disclose names. That would be unprofessional and quite unfair, plus I can't get sued, not yet anyway) I can say that I've had more good interviews then bad ones.
Most times, I'm meeting with someone who just got off stage and they're tired, hungry and thirsty, yet they know that media is part of what they do. I try to keep my interviews short. I ask key questions that pretty much allow them to talk and I get the rest of my questions answered.

I did get to meet a celeb once who I couldn't wait to meet. I wasn't a reporter yet, I worked at the venue he/she was performing at. This person was so mean and nasty. They bitched about EVERYTHING! The food (which they requested), the beverages (which they requested) and they pretty much made a lot of new "former" fans that evening. Taking nothing away from celebs who travel/tour. It's HARD work with little -to-no rest and a demanding schedule most times. I empathize, really.
What I do find annoying is when someone is just being a bitch. (remember, I said men and women can both be bitches). Sometimes I think that celebs should be forced to retire, like the teachers who have been teaching for so long that they are just horrible and the kids hate them. What about the celebs that have been performing for many moons and have just become a sad little mirror of their former selves, snapping at everyone, demanding stupid shit like green M&M's or a Big Mac with the bun, meat and toppings/condiments all separated into tiny bags, so they can build it themselves? What kind of diva shit is that? How about asking for items that aren't even SOLD in this state? How about making all of these bitch-ass demands and then not even touching, eating or drinking the shit they had a BF (bitch-fit) over?

I never make assumptions whenever I'm interviewing. I take it as it comes. When it turns out very pleasant, I'm pleasantly surprised, but when it turns out bad, no surprise there.
Developing a thick skin was something I did early on because as an African-American woman, I HAD to, but I also had to develop that thick skin into thicker skin in order to perform my job. I can't take it personal, ever, and sometimes, I walk away with a perk, like a big bowl of green M&M's. I'm out.

Back on Track, I think.

Okay, so I'm back on track. It's the end of the semester and I have one last good power surge in me to get a butt-load of assignments finished.

I looked back over the past few months and I saw that I worked hard. I worked hard for school and I worked hard to help friends. I think I worked harder for friends than I did for myself and I wont do that again. I know how bad it sounds, but here's what I mean; I worked so fervently for other people who pretty much let me know that they don't consider it a big deal and I shouldn't either. WTF?!!
So, I worked my ass off, I mean worked my ass off, all times of the day and night, weekends, changing my plans for them and now it was for pretty much nothing?

That sucks "hot raw ass" in my book. Why would you do that to someone? Peeps, I can only say this once; if you discover that you are the glue in the friendship/relationship, drop that shit like it was, well, SHIT!
Pour your energy into you. I did and I don't feel a bit guilty about it. I'm out.

This Morning A Relationship, This Evening A Mistake.

Okay, so for all of you who are wondering or don't really give a damn. How did I begin and end a relationship all in the span of a day?

Experience.

Experience tells you when something is not right and you generally go with that feeling if you've been paying attention to life.

Remember, the true definition of insanity is making the same mistakes over and over again, yet expecting different results.

Something wasn't right. I can't put my finger on it, but I'm not sticking around to find out either.

People, when you get the 'oogies' (I made that one up too), listen to it, it's your conscience, guardian angel, alter-ego, split personality, whatever!

I made a decision and now the 'oogies' are gone.

This isn't a real blog. I'm venting and I'm heated. I let one situation dictate another and that was wrong too. He wasn't the person I thought he was and he showed a glimpse of what I believe to be his true nature, jealousy, and baby-bobba, that doesn't get better, it gets worse. I'm out.

Train Your Children

This is for all parents, not just the mothers, who receive far too much of the blame for everything their children do. You hear it all the time, "children are like little sponges, they absorb everything you say and do." How about "the fruit don't fall too far from the tree?"
These are all true. Most times children are a reflection of their parents. The "rotten little no good satanic spawns from hell" with the sweetest parents are the exception, not the rule. Sometimes, no matter how much parents try, they end up with a 'bad egg.'
I'm stepping into a very sensitive, very personal area right now.
My sister has the baddest F%$@*&$ kids in this world and other known universes!
This is no surprise to me. Growing up, my sister had a mouth on her, saying everything that came to mind. She has no filter. That mouth grew exponentially worse as we grew up, arguing and cranking the neck at the drop of a dime over small things. We couldn't even go through a Micky-D's drive thru without her copping an attitude when we're asked if want fries or an apple pie (it's their job to ask).
Why she has such a horrible mouth and horrible attitude can be searched back to my mom. My sister is the youngest and although mother spoiled us all, my sister was the rotten one. Mother never popped those lips when she got out of line, I mean sometimes if you caught mother on the wrong day, you got a good tongue-lashing. That rarely happened.
Now, my sister's kids are worse than she ever was. Talking back, popping off, getting all up in 'grown folks conversation,' fighting in church, twice, (you heard me they FIGHT IN CHURCH!).
They are the most disrespectful kids I've ever seen and I'm so glad I live on this side of the country away from that mischegas.
They have "problems" at every school they've ever attended, but my sister refuses to see that her little 'angels' are the real problem. My sister doesn't like to follow rules, therefore, her kids don't follow rules either.
Her oldest, my niece, is a teen pregnancy waiting to happen. At only 12yrs., she craves attention, even if it's negative attention. Her mouth is capable of starting a war and she is the actual boss of the house.
My 11 yr. old nephew? Mommas boy. He cries, she comes-a-running, he whines, she comes-a-running. I mean come on. He's a boy. Let him experience boy things so he can be a man some day. My sister STILL bathes and brushes his teeth! YOU HEARD ME! If she is trying to ensure he never has a decent relationship with any woman, mission accomplished. His mouth is in need of a couple of fat lips as well. When my niece flaps her gums, my sister gets butt-hurt, but when her little boy flaps his gums, she thinks it's cute. See the problem?
Our average phone conversation goes something like this:

"Hello?"
"Hold on, Sasha! I'm gonna break your mutha&$%#*# neck!"
"I was just calling to find out,"
"Hold on again, Markie! Stop that whining, Sasha! Leave him alone!"
"Yes, I wanted to know if "
"Sasha! What the f$#* did I tell you?! Don't make me get up!"

It gets worse, but you get the picture, right?
They (her & her husband), never trained those kids. Never taught them about manners, respect, self-respect or anything else they'll need to contribute to society as productive adults.
I mean really, you see my sister and her kids coming and you get an instant attitude/headache and you find yourself searching for the bottle of Chardonnay you swore you'd keep for a special occasion.
Of course, people with bad kids have excuses. "All kids are bad." She says that a lot. "I think not," is what I tell her. She cannot see that her kids are a reflection of her and her husband.
Why am I writing this? She wants to move to Arizona! With those kids!
This cannot happen. I have a quiet home. I forget that my own daughter is her room sometimes. That's how quiet we are. At my house, there's no crying, whining, arguing, fighting, meddling, breaking things, stealing things or eating constantly morning, noon and night.
I think I'd actually murder all of them if I had to be in a house with them. Really.
I cannot for the life of me understand why parents would not arm their children with tools for life? How well do you think these kids will do with what they haven't been taught?
I'd hate to see my niece and nephew turn into a statistic, but that is where they are headed and all the parents had to do was knock some heads when required, pop the lips when needed, correct the bad behavior and follow through when they have been warned. This isn't something all parents have to do with their kids, but you can recognize early on when you have "problem children" and you can nip that shit in the bud. To my little sister; Arizona isn't big enough and another thing; Train your kids so I wont have to dispose of three bodies later. I'm out.

The Walter Cronkite School of Journalism and Mass Communication

The Walter Cronkite School of Journalism and Mass Communication

Are We REALLY Having This Conversation?

Okay, so I'm a blogger. I have my own blog sites and I participate on several others. What I hoped to find was more healthy dialogue. Don't get me wrong. I like the occasional juicy shit too, hence the reason I have my own personal blog.
Currently, I blogging on a site that I will not name, and some of the discussions are downright idiotic! This surprises me because of who sponsors this site. I thought I'd find intelligent exchanges of ideas and thought-provoking subjects. There are a few others who probably thought the same thing.
What I've come across is BS. Gossiping about celebs? I mean they gossip like they know these people personally! Making bold statements and verbally attacking others who don't agree. WTF?
Now, any of you who know me or have read my posts know I can handle my shit when I'm being attacked, but attack me with facts! Attack me with statistics! Attack me with something scholarly that backs up your claims! I can take it, really.
What happens instead? I get attacked with misspelled words. I get attacked by someone threatened by my opinion or just looking to unleash on someone. Again, I can take it.
Here's some juice: unleash the dictionary, spell-check, Google, ask Jeeves, yahoo!, Google scholars, etc!
It takes no time to research your idea/claim or spelling/grammar before you get on the web and write dumb shit, putting your ignorance on blast.
Call me a snob, a geek or 'boojie' (I've been called all those things and worse), but I'd rather debate with someone who can spell and isn't defending their statements with something they read from a cereal box or heard on an Ice Cube CD!
I'm out.

My Sunday Morning at the Coffee Spot

Okay, so I'm minding my 'biz-nass' at the coffee spot, when a young buck strolls up behind me. I don't need to turn around. He's checking me out. I can feel the rays from his eyeballs penetrating my denims and cheekies and heating my entire ass. He shouts out "Damn girly got a nice ass!" He whips out his phone, snaps a pic of my ass and calls another young buck to tell him he's sending him the pic.
I pay for my coffee and head out the door. When I try to leave the parking lot, young buck pulls up behind me, music blasting and blocks my car. He gets out of his car, leaves the driver side door wide open and strolls over to my window grabbing at his sagging pants, wiping his face and adjusting his ball cap that still has the price tag on it. I smell an entire can of AXE spray which activates my allergies and my eyes water up and I start sneezing.
He asks me my name. I tell him and he mis-pronounces it back to me (not a biggie, most people do). But instead of trying again he decides it's ok to give me a new name. "Imma just call you sexy cupcake." (Um, last time I checked, I wasn't a stripper or stupid).
He takes out his phone and asks for my number. "42," I said. " What choo say cupcake? 42? What's dat?"
"That is my age." I thought that would scare him away. Foolish me.
"42?! Damn cupcake! You a fine M*%#$*!" I think that was a compliment.
He turns his phone just enough for me to see the pics he has. One of them is a pic of a young woman in lingerie bent over with her butt cheeks spread so wide I could see her uterus. There were more similar pics.
He starts laughing.
I tell him I'm allergic to his imposter cologne spray and that I have a stun gun and he needs to move his car.
Winged, but not wounded, he jumps in his car and screeches out of the lot at 100mph.
Now, I have to get home most 'riki-tick' and pop an allergy pill and wipe the AXE smell off my car door where he leaned on it.
I'm thinking:
Obviously, this approach has worked for him before, but with WHO?
Who would find that cute or complimentary?
What kind of woman takes a pic like that?
Did he think the ass collection on his phone would impress me?
Why am I STILL smelling that damn cologne?!
I'm out.

You Can't "Out-Bitch" Me!

Okay, so I'm back in AZ early. I have projects to complete, so I head to campus where I feel most productive. The library doors are locked, but I see two girls sitting inside, so I knock. Nothing. They ignored me. I knocked again, harder. One young lady finally came over and opened the door. The one that never moved was closest to me, right in my line of sight. She saw me, but never acknowledged me or even moved as though she'd open the door.
Okay.
Why didn't she get up and open the door? Why did she think if she ignored me, I'd go away?
Who in the hell does she think she is? Does she not believe in Karma?
Bitches.
Here's my thought process.
When I say that, I don't mean women, I mean Bitches. Men can be Bitches too, but today it happened to be a woman.
Why do some people act that way? You know, like Bitches. They see you coming and instead of pressing the elevator 'hold' button, they just let the door close right in your face. They know you're behind them, but they let the door shut on you anyway.
Instead of waiting their turn in line, they attempt to cut in front of you ( because "all they have is a quick question").
They have all their shit in the seats, so you can't sit down on the train.
And for you Bitch-Ass men, they'll knock you down before they let you board first, because for some reason if they don't board first, they'll fall through some imaginary trap door into an alter-dimension where Bitch-Ass men exist.
How does it benefit someone to act like a Bitch? I mean, I know they get some personal satisfaction out of it, but overall, what have they/you gained? A reputation as a Bitch that's what!
Now that I've vented, here's the juice; You CAN'T "Out-Bitch" me! It's impossible I tell you. Here's why.
I'll never walk away from the library when there's a Bitch inside ignoring me.
When I see you on the next floor, I'm gonna "Thank You" for holding the elevator.
When you let the door shut on me, I'm gonna compliment your manners.
When you try to cut in front of me, I'm gonna tell you that this IS the 'quick question' line.
When you pile all of your shit in the seats, I'm sitting anyway, in an empty seat, or on top of your shit, your choice.
And for you Bitch-Ass men, something special, I laugh at you and ask you if you're late for Charm School.
I do all of those things without yelling or raising my voice. I smile. You know, the "kill em' with kindness" smile.
The intent is to let that person know that YOU know, they're a Bi-atch!
Bad acts bring bad Juju. Juju comes three-fold. What you send out comes back 3x better or worse depending on your act.
I don't need to clown you. Juju is coming.
I'm out.

The Games We Play With Ourselves

Okay, so I'm not perfect. Far from it. I do, however, like to think that I learn from my mistakes and I don't repeat them and that's my definition of growth. My work life seems to be on track finally, but my personal life takes a daily beating and it's my fault. I'm a 'this is what I want and I don't want less than that' kind of woman. That attitude has it's benefits; no drama and no bullshit and it's drawbacks; loneliness. I have to admit that the latter has at times caused me to compromise the former, but what's the general rule on instant gratification?


With that said, I'm struggling. I have in mind, the man I want, the job I want and the future we will have. Problem. The man isn't so sure. We have history. We love each other, but we have different ideas about love. Neither idea is good or bad, just different. There is a lot at stake here, not just feelings, and so to preserve the stakes, I decided to test the waters with someone else.


The "Lovers in love with love" will read this and say "Oh no, you have to stay true to your feelings, give it some time, blah blah blah, and the "Realists who realize the reality" (I made that up, can you tell?) will say "Don't sit around waiting for him to make up his mind, this is your life we're talking about!"


Self-deprecation ahead.


I'm no picnic. I can be a brat. I can be intimidating. I'm bossy. I like things to go my way ( a symptom of being single for so long) and I like it quiet. I'm on the grind and it comes first right now, no exceptions.


Is it fair for me to test the waters with this type of attitude? I told him how I felt. He says he can deal with it, so I let him chase me for a little while. We play this game with ourselves, all of us. We think that if we're honest up front about things, that we're exempt from the guilt and pain we've caused later. WRONG!!!


Example: Someone tells you, "You don't have to call me anymore." What they really mean is "I want you to keep calling me, but I won't ask you to and so when you continue to call me and I hurt you later, I'll just remind you that you didn't have to keep calling."


We all play this sad little game. I'm playing it right now and most of us actively participate in it repeatedly. You twenty-somethings out there, pay attention. The games never go away, you just get better at playing them. I'm out.

Student Elections On My Campus

Okay, so recently student elections were held. I dread this time of the semester because people who never acknowledge your presence, let alone look at you, suddenly become your best friends. It's all too damn fake for me.
I get pissed off at the fact that they don't give a damn about me, or what my specific needs are, they just want some effin title to slap into their college file and use later as though they're the second coming of Clinton or some shit like that.
Politics are politics, no matter where it is. School campus officer wannabes are no different from the overpaid ball sacks that run our government right now. They hand out Hershey's kisses and nasty cookies from the day-old bakery and expect us to suddenly realize, mostly through a sudden sugar rush, that this person is qualified to represent me on campus.
Here's the juice on that; If you never talk to me, how in the hell can you represent me? If you don't know me, you don't know what my needs are. If I don't exist to you, walk the fuck past me and don't bother trying to induce me with your cheap, puke-colored campaign t-shirts and the last half-eaten M&M cookie huddled over in the corner of the soiled box. I'm out.

Diversity: Real or Imagined?

The hot word right now seems to be 'diversity.' Every corporation, company, university, organization, club and even some churches talk about it and talk about supporting it. But, are they really interested in diversity or just interested in appearing diverse?
Look closer.
Are their Boards, Committees, Administrations or Officers a representation of diversity? If not, what is the explanation for it?
I sat in a diversity seminar a few days ago and someone said exactly what I was thinking. "It's not what you know, it's WHO you know!" That is an undeniable truth.
This one hires his frat buddy from college and that one hires his friend from the country club and that one hires his best friend's son. Where is the diversity in that?
How will diversity ever be truly represented if these Presidents, CEO's and HR Heads hire from "within?"

You Never Know Someone's True Feelings Until, . . .

Recently, I posted a comment on another social website about Mr. Obama and the job he had ahead of him and the whole "Birthers" thing. Usually, my friends reply with their own opinions, respectfully, but still opinionated. One man decided that he was going to 'go there' by asking 'What has Obama done for 'Afro-Americans' and the ghetto?" (Oh yes he did!) He delved deeper into his own stupidity by adding that Obama hasn't removed all of the 'Kool Milds' and 'Colt 45' signs from the ghettos. I've dealt with this type of ignorance, so I didn't let him stray from the topic, however, I did enlighten him about ghettos and the word 'Afro-American.' The more I put him on full blast, the more frustrated he got. He decided that he'd pick on illegal immigrants next, but his idea of illegal immigrants are Mexicans. He used so many stereotypes and derogatory statements ( a sign to me that he was just flailing around at that point), that he pretty much incurred the wrath of others posting replies. Without facts to support his allegations, he was definitely the asshole of the moment. As angry as I was, I never let him know that. I stuck to facts. He claimed that he never looks at color, but when he got angry enough, that was the FIRST thing he resorted to; color, race, stereotypes, bad commentary on Mexican women and 'the black man blaming the white man for everything.' I'm being nice. He had misspelled words and many other basic grammar issues. His posts were actually hard to read. Finally, when he had exhausted himself of all stereotypes and empty unsupported claims, and realized that he hadn't created the 'black rage' he was hoping for, he called US all cry-babies (misspelled that too), tucked tail and broke out. You can imagine how much we laughed at this idiot. My point? I know the man. I went to Jr. High and High School with him. He hung around a diverse group of kids, including black kids. You never really know someone until the trifecta of hot subjects (race, religion, politics) is discussed. Today, he has lots of "splaining" to do with his minority friends. Good luck with that. You can't 'un-ring' that bell. Note to racists: You can go to any store and purchase a dictionary, thesaurus or vocabulary builder. I'm out.