Resolutions (<---O_o) for the New Year

New Year’s resolutions are for the birds.

I’m serious.

It is about the time of year where everyone starts to make promises to themselves to fix the things in their lives that are either lacking or in excess, and they call them ‘resolutions’.

I always wondered why we do that to ourselves.

Why is it that we wait for January 1^st to decide that this time, this hour, this moment, is the best moment with which to decide to start anew? Why can’t it be December 27^th? Or May 13^th? Why wait till the New Year when you can start whenever you like?

I could go into depth as to why this is the case, but I made a resolution to myself on my birthday to be more conscientious with the words that I choose to use and the level of tact that I exert. I know that for me, these are my so-called “resolutions” (I already started these, hence the quotations):

1.       1. Figure out why the hell I always fall for the wrong guy. I’m sure that there are many ladies out there that are trying to figure this out for themselves, but this is an ongoing battle that I am determined to figure out, starting with the one I’ve been catching myself having feelings for now.

2.       2. Finish losing the weight that I started. I’m proud of this. At the beginning of the year, I was 295. Now I am 244. I have no shame in saying these numbers. My goal? 170. And so it goes…

2.

3.       3. Get my books published. One is done, two are almost done. I started a project to get the finished one published…so fingers crossed!

4.       4. Be less affected by tomfoolery, “shtupidness”, and flakiness. Allyuh know how ah feel bout tomfoolery and shtupidness. I’m going to develop a duck’s skin with these two. I’ve already started to. *preens feathers* As for the flakiness, nothing irks me more than indecisiveness and people who tell you one thing and then back out last minute, especially if they don’t tell you, you have to find out on your own. For my birthday, I got a lot of this. It was the first time that I was genuinely like, “if you come, you come, if you don’t, ok”. I felt the vestiges of annoyance creep up at first…but I brushed it off. Now, I’ve come to accept it. This is a work in progress…but I’m good with it right now.

That’s about it, folks! I don’t believe in resolutions. I believe in setting goals and going with them whenever you come up with them…not waiting for a New Year to make that happen. That is what I am doing. 

What do you think?

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The 1 Year From 30 Post!

I am officially 29 years old! One year left to the big 3-0!

What does that actually mean, though? Does it mean anything at all? To me it does. I’ve been seeing a lot of fuss regarding the life change from 28 to 29 to 30. I’m not quite sure why…so…

I think it’s time to do 29 Reasons Why 29 is the Best Thing Since Sliced Bread…

29. Um…hello! It’s another year, another day, another moment in time to continue living!

28. As up and down as 28 has been, it was still the most fabulous year ever…so 29 is poised to be even better!

Okay. 

So I won’t do 29 reasons. 

What I will do, in all seriousness, is go through the top 10 things I am looking forward to in my 29^th year of life…

10. The growth of my catering and personal chef business. 

9. The publishing of not one, not two, but three different books. (Details to come) If I can accomplish that, babeee….!!

8. Another three to four inches of growth on my locs. (I wanna whip my hair back and forth!)

7. A renewed relationship with my own energy and my higher power.

6. The 30^th birthday cruise that is in the works. (Ladies, look out for the email, allyuh know who you are!)

5. Getting down to at least a size 12. If I can do a size 10, even better.

4. A continually prosperous and enlightening relationship with the ride or dies and friends that I have.

3. A better relationship with my family, but most specifically my mother.

2. Continued blessings and a positive relationship with my daughter.

And the number one thing I am looking forward to in my 29^th year of life?

1.       Continued happiness, blessings, and whatever love is out there for me, in whatever form it comes.

Cheers! =oD

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Change and Growth

“It’s been too hard living/but I’m afraid to die/’Cause I don’t know what’s up there/beyond the sky/It’s been a long, long time coming/but I know/a change’s gon come”

Sam Cooke – “A Change’s Gon Come”

I’m fine.

Trust me. I’m fine.

I chose to start this post with these words because this is one of my favorite lyrics and all time favorite songs, period. There is something about the passion and elegance with which Sam Cooke sings this song that has always touched something deep down in my spirit. I’ve always related to the lyrics.

Life is hard.

Sure, we’ve all had good moments. We’ve had bad moments. I myself, in this one year, have had so many ups and downs that it has been nearly impossible to keep up. I am a firm believer in the concept of bad coming with good. After all, if there is no bad, how do you know good? How can you actually appreciate good?

At any rate. As rough as life has been to me this year, and with 29 looming just over a week away, I wouldn’t give it up for anything. And not even just because I’m afraid to die. Death scares me, immensely, agreed…but there is so much to life right now that I just can’t wait to experience, you know?

With that said. There’s a whole lot of change coming.

A whole lot of change.

I’m always changing and evolving, right? What makes this particular change so different?

It’s simple. I’m just going to do it. If you notice, great. If you don’t, great. It’s not about anyone but me. And don’t even look for me to tell you the changes. It’s all about what you see or observe – if you care enough. And, if you don’t notice the change…then that’s pretty tell tale too, isn’t it?

Cheers…

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Night Marauder

They call me the marauder of the feelings of the night.

While everyone is asleep, I pillage and plunder the thoughts of the verbose and yet forgotten thoughts. The ones no one wants to admit that they have.

Our society is one where even honesty is not quite honest with itself, shamed into believing that stark contrast in truths is acceptable when one seeks to spare feelings.

I sit, loud in my silence, and assess which dishonest village I shall burn first with clever ditties and unabashed words of fire. Usually they never see it coming, so caught up in their need to be and desire to impress with their deception that my words are usually a sucker punch.

They call me the marauder of the feelings of the night.

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Fantasy vs. Reality

We are walking to the school, she in her Shearling jacket, me in my wool coat. She is bubbly, bright, excited. After school, we are going to do her homework together, then curl up and watch movies and sip hot cocoa. He will join us when he is done with his meeting, and we will sit there, watching movies until dinner time, when we will go to the dinner table and have dinner together as a family, before I give her a bath. She will tell me to “take it easy bending down, Mommy…you might hurt the baby…” She loves her little brother or sister, the one she’s always wanted…though we won’t know what it is until it is born. That night, I will tuck her in, after having tied her head and wrapped her up all tight so she is safe and warm. He will sneak in and kiss her good night all over her face, making her giggle. She loves him like he were her natural born father. He loves her like she was his natural born child. I kiss her good night as well, and we quietly sneak out the room as she begins to doze off. He will tell me to take my time down the stairs, his hand on my protruding belly, the skin around my ring beginning to swell from the water weight. I retreat to my home office, he to his, as he balances his books and I mine. I tune everything out and type and work to the beat of tiny baby flutters, flutters that I haven’t felt since 2002. The miracle of life. He stops me from working late with his kiss, gentle touches on the nape of my neck. He makes love to me slow and gentle, careful not to cause any undue movement to our unborn child. We doze off in each other’s arms afterward. In the morning, we wake up early and talk as we prepare to start our day in our life together – he, I, and mine.

I wake up in the morning, usually pretty tired. It’s more of a nap than actual sleep. I reluctantly drag myself out of the comfort of my nap and prepare to start my day. The munchkin hates waking up, too. Many mornings, I find that she has found her way back into my bed, her lanky limbs splayed across me, even after I have put her back into her bed earlier on in the night. Sometimes this causes us to fall behind five to ten minutes in our schedule – the comfort of the bed calls to us, even when the alarm has gone off twice. That five to ten minute lag, though, can be the difference between catching the bus and missing it. So we don’t let that happen very often. I bathe her, dry her off, and direct her toward her clothes, so that I can get myself showered and into my sweats. I will walk anywhere, so I use the time after I drop her off to power walk through half of my neighborhood. We grab breakfast-to-go…sometimes mini pancakes or French toast sticks, made in advance and in a Baggie, sometimes Fruity Cheerios in a portable cup. We head out the door at the exact same time every day: 7:02 am. Never earlier, never later. We spend our 20 minute walk singing and dancing down the block, sometimes pretending that we are fishing for baby sharks, sometimes talking about the munchkin’s baby years. She likes hearing about her life as a baby. Sometimes this brings up bittersweet memories of her godmother – my friend who passed – and sometimes, she needs a four block hug. I oblige her. I never let her see me sad, though it is moments like this when she breaks my heart. I get her on her bus in the morning and I kiss her good bye and she pulls off, waving to me as the bus turns the corner and takes her to school – and all I can think of is that is my baby, swallowed up on that big yellow bus. It hits me sometimes – someday, her world will not revolve around me. Someday, she will not want to talk to me about everything. Someday, some little boy will break her heart as mine has been before, and I will be powerless to do anything but hug her and tell her that someday, she will be grateful for this heartbreak, even as I myself am not so sure that I am okay with the tug of pain and melancholy that every now and again threatens to break my stride. As I have these moments, as I walk down the streets of my neighborhood, alone not just in name but in my thoughts as well, I ponder who I have to go over my feelings with, who I have to go back and forth with, who supports my dreams when I’m not sure I believe anymore…whose heartbeat will match mine whether we are in the same room or not. Sometimes, it’s okay to know that my day for that has come. Today is not one of those days. Today is one of those “have I made the right choices?” days, one of those days that everyone has but never likes to admit that they have: the day that they regret the life changing decision(s) that they made. The day that they wonder, “what if?” The day that you don’t feel like talking to anyone because it is not just anyone you want to talk to – it is that day that you don’t want to hear anything about things being okay or not coveting what you don’t have because you just feel in a negative space and you just want to let that rock for a minute, dammit. It is the day that I feel the most alone – the day that I envy everyone lucky enough to have what I wish I did – a partner.

This…is my fantasy versus my reality.

Eventually, I will feel better and the negative energy will subside…and I will keep moving…as I always do.

Today…is not that day. Probably tomorrow.

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The 3 AM Post

The 3 am Post

This is one of those open letters to myself because I have to write it down posts. 

One of those I want to talk but not really because I want you to fix it, I don't want a hug posts.

A I feel like crying because I'm not sure what I did if I did how I did something wrong posts.

You know the post.

It's the post that only a Sag can write because they're busy overanalyzing and being, well, a Sag.

It's the post you write when you have so much to say and nowhere to put all of the emotion that comes with the saying, and you know that saying it is a bad idea so you write a post instead post.

It's that post that comes after the "hold on, I've said too much" losing my religion REM style post.

The "someone just walked away with all my stuff" Ntozake Shange for colored girls circa 1975 post.

It's the post...itsthepostyouwrite when you're scared to do anything. else.

So you write. 

- KP

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For Colored Girls (Don't Read This If You Haven't Seen It)

I’m still a bit shell shocked.

I’ve been sitting here, going back and forth, reading and re-reading, and reviewing and pondering all the way home because I’ve been shell shocked ever since I walked out of that movie house.

I finally saw “For Colored Girls”.

I was adamant that no one tell me anything about the movie before I saw it. I wanted to experience it for myself, in its entirety, without hearing anyone else’s opinion about it before I saw it.  As the time elapsed, this became more and more difficult. Social media being the devil that it is, many people commented on the intensity of the movie in their statuses. They posted their opinions in clever tweets, and found ways to criticize both the movie and the maker of the movie, Tyler Perry, in one breath. It is no secret that Mr. Perry’s work is critically acclaimed and/or reviled, depending on who you’re asking. This was his first attempt at something assumingly more powerful than his more socially popular “Madea” work, and I was interested to see how the venture worked out for him. I was also curious to see how he would manage to turn a series of 20 intense poems into a screenplay that worked.

Now.

After having seen it, I walked in relative silence for quite some time. As a Sagittarius, I am analytical to a fault, examining every angle, every nuance…and then examining it again. I listened quietly as my cousins expressed their general emotions, malaise, cursed out some passerby for being in the way, etc…and I simply listened to them talk. I was lost in my own thoughts.

When I got home, before I started writing this, I decided to sit down and go through some of the reviews finally to see what the critics – and other people that I didn’t know – were saying about the movie. No matter where I looked, they all started something like this:

“My admiration for Tyler Perry's phenomenal and influential showmanship is undimmed, but facts are facts: The craft of filmmaking is not his strong suit." 

- Lisa Shwartzbaum, EW.com

 

“As much as you want to give Tyler Perry the benefit of the doubt that maybe he'd be better at adapting someone else's work than showcasing his own, it's pretty obvious by the end of "For Colored Girls" that the best thing going for it are the performances of Ntozake Shange's words by Perry's infinitely talented cast.” 

– Edward Douglas, comingsoon.net 

I’ll even throw in one more for good measure…

“So let's just say that For Colored Girls is a barely competent film (which is a big step up for Perry), illuminated by luminous performances. In the hands of another filmmaker, those actresses might have approached an award-winning level. Too bad.” 

– Marshall Fine, Huff Post Review

Now. So far, all of these reviews have been rather critical of Tyler’s work on this film, and, though they acknowledge the outstanding cast that Perry managed to pull together for the film, both female and male, for the most part, they find the movie does not reach the standard that it should. I could go so far as to say that none of these reviewers are African-American, but I remember seeing some of my friends’ commentary regarding the film – the words “male bashing”, “poor attempt by a lackluster director”, and “Tyler needs to let someone co-direct movies with him” come to immediate mind.

So. After pondering all the reviews that I’d read, I asked myself: Did I miss something along the way? Did we not watch the same movie, and perhaps I missed it somewhere? I was tempted to look at my ticket stub and call the theatre to make sure I’d watched the right movie. I couldn’t understand it – what was wrong with ‘For Colored Girls’?

Ok. Let me be nice about this.

Wait a damn minute. No I will NOT!

I’m sick of the Tyler Perry bashing. I’m not a diehard fan of his, not by any means. But why are we so quick to diminish his work as un-meaningful? What, because in his first films, the message is delivered by a 6’2 black ‘wo’man? Okay, AND? At least SOMEONE is getting the message out! The reality is that we live in a fickle society where Real Housewives runs the airwaves and we complain about wanting to have something more of substance out but we do nothing to make it happen. We complain that we’re not on Broadway, but then when we are, in a real setting with real things that really happen, we complain about the content. Or how the message is delivered. (Think The Scottsboro Boys. How many people have seen THAT? Don’t worry…I’ll wait…)

Why do we want the message to be so sweetly delivered, and NOT by Tyler Perry?

For Colored Girls – the screenplay version – was well adapted to hold the viewers’ attention for a lengthy period of time. Perry managed to somehow take a series of powerful poems and turn it into something that anyone could watch, black or white. I hear critics complaining about the lack of crossover appeal. So…other races aren’t raped? Or abused? Or in down low relationships? Or promiscuous? Or in affairs? Do I actually need to continue? No, he didn’t include other races in the main roles…did he have to? What, you no longer can relate because the person doesn’t have the same color as you?

Ntozake Shange, originator of the poem “for colored girls who have considered suicide/ when the rainbow is enuf”, even said in a NY Times interview of the screenplay, “I think it’s very good. He kept a lot of my language, that’s what I liked most.” She was at hand for all of the re-writes, all of the transformation, and Perry managed to create a storyline to lure in the viewer, all while keeping the original power of the poetry in the film. And powerful it was. One couldn’t help but get sucked into everyone’s story, even the ones that seemed obvious – Thandie Newton’s character ‘Tangie (Orange)’ and her sister Tessa Thompson ‘s character ‘Nyla (Purple)’ being the most obvious of all (who didn’t know that girl was pregnant when she threw up outside?), and you watched yourself being drawn in by the power of each story and the power of the women fighting them. The story was less about male bashing – in fact, it wasn’t male bashing at all – and more about the struggles that the women face and how they find a way to overcome it. And yes, it may have seen cliché at times – but it’s a movie…not a miniseries. There’s only but so much that you can put into a movie to make it all work – especially something of this caliber.

I have much much more that I could say about this – but I’d rather hear your thoughts…because I will surely ramble… 

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Sagittarius Season! The Facts

If you're a Sagittarius, stand up!!!

From November 22 to December 21, Sagittariuses rule the time frame. As a Sagittarius myself, I am personally excited that it is my season. Granted, it is ALWAYS my season, as I LOVE being a true Sagittarius, but I am particularly thrilled that it is my season currently. This means that my birthday's coming up, and it means a year older and about three years wiser for me. 

Don't know anything about Sagittariuses, or astrology? Here is a quick crash course: 

Astrology is "the divination of the supposed influences of the stars and planets on human affairs and terrestrial events by their positions and aspects". (Merriam Webster Online) It is deemed a superstitious belief in the sense that it is based on a concept that is infallible or omnipotent in nature. However, the astrologists that study the constellations and their position can argue that each constellation sign is connected to a series of like characteristics that, when processed for a certain period of time, reflect the people born within that time frame.

With that said, here are some facts about the sign of Sagittarius:

·         The sign of Sagittarius is governed by the Greek mythical being the centaur. The centaur symbolizes mankind’s dual nature as an intellectual creature (the human half) which was also a physical animal (the horse half). (Scopes)

·         Sagittarians have a positive outlook on life, are full of enterprise, energy, versatility, adventurousness and eagerness to extend experience beyond the physically familiar. They enjoy travelling and exploration, the more so because their minds are constantly open to new dimensions of thought. (astrology-online)

·         They have both profound and widely ranging minds, equipped with foresight and good judgment, and they can be witty conversationalists. They love to initiate new projects (they make excellent researchers) and have an urge to understand concepts that are new to them.

·         A fire sign, Sagittariuses are prone to get along with other fire signs such as Aries and Leo, both romantically and on a friendship level. As a fire sign, however, this gives Sags a generally quick temper.

·         Sagittarians have an often blind faith in people, and in the world. Their optimism is infectious, although it can get them into trouble from time to time. These are curious people who love to learn. Their idealistic nature is hard to miss.

·         Sagittarius people see themselves as warm-blooded folk. They are, but they sometimes run roughshod over others' feelings during their more passionate debates. They can be blunt with people, although if they have a more tactful Mercury placement, this quality will be subdued. Their direct, blunt approach is most obvious in bed. They're passionate lovers, and are turned on by open-mindedness and good humor.

To all of my fellow Sags…does this sound like you? To those who know Sags, does any of this sound familiar?

Discuss…

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Tape and Glue and Me

“You are a handsome…good…smart and good and…you’re perfect…but um…I’m busy…holding myself together with…tape and glue…and a part of me wishes that you hadn’t played golf because maybe you’d be where I am…but you’re too much for me right now…because I’m busy..with the tape…and the glue…”

- "Miranda Bailey", Grey's Anatomy - Episode: Tape and Glue

I’m not a TV buff.

Not by any means.

In fact, I rarely watch it.

Oh, sure, as a chef, I have the Food Network on fairly often, and I listen to some of my favorite shows on there, but I don’t really watch it. The television in my house is usually off, and if it’s on, then it’s simply background noise . On Thursdays at 9 pm, though…my television is on. It’s on and Grey’s Anatomy is on. And it doesn’t matter what work I’m doing, who I’m talking to, whether I’m baking bread or not (wink), at 9 pm, I am watching Grey’s Anatomy and ignoring all else.

When I saw this episode, the one where Chandra Wilson’s character, Miranda, is dealing with the aftermath of the mass murder shooting at Seattle Grace, and I heard her say those lines…my heart stopped.

I went looking for Shondra Rhimes.

Who the hell was she to be taking my life without notice and putting it on the TV screen?

Ok. Obviously she didn’t take inspiration from my life when she had her writers write the scene for that quite emotional TV moment. But the ‘tape and glue’ bit? Believe you me…that is me in a nutshell. With so much going on and with most, if not all, of my friends individually going through their own isht, I often feel quite alone with me, my thoughts and I. I can visibly see the tape on my arm…the glue holding the pieces of me together…sort of like a going through the motions. And it’s not to say that I have no one to talk to. That’s not it. It’s just that tattoo on my back that is getting in the way. That pride is something else. It’s the fear of not meeting expectations. The fear of not being strong.

At any rate. Anyone else feeling some of the same? 

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So Cuomo's governor...now what?

Thank God Andrew Cuomo won.

Unlike Cuomo’s father, previous 80’s reign governor Mario Cuomo, Andrew’s election to the gubernatorial seat was far from a squeaker. Cuomo racked up 61% percent of the vote over Carl Paladino, his GOP competition (and let’s not forget Jimmy McMillan’s 1% - after all, only 1% of New Yorkers truly believe that the Rent is Too Damn High). Paladino, during his campaign, gave new meaning to the term, “loose cannon”. His highly antagonistic approach, complete with controversy after controversy, preempted any agenda that he may or may not have.

So thank God Andrew Cuomo won last night. I am sure that many (at least 61% of New Yorkers) are happy about this fact.

Now. Having said that, let’s talk about the real problem. Mr. Cuomo, this message is for you.

I need you to do your job. Of course, this seems like the obvious statement of the year, but I assure you, it’s not. This New Yorker is a bit fed up, and she’s been fed up for quite some time. Though grateful for David Paterson making history as the first Black American and ‘disabled’ Governor, I am remiss to admit that he hasn’t done a damn thing for our state other than to lead it into further disarray and chaos. Don’t believe me? Let’s (quickly) recap.

In June of last year, we all remember the 30-day gridlock of the State Senate that threw our government into upheaval. The coup, led by disgraced Senator Hiram Monserrate and (crook?) Senator Pedro Espada, along with Rochester based Senator Tom Golisano, ensured that key issues, such as the potential Mayoral control of NYC public schools and same sex marriage passing, went unaddressed for the better part of a month. Now. It could be said that Paterson tried to let adults be adults and handle their issues on their own, as we might have. He noted, “This is getting a little ridiculous — they’ve got to act like adults here,”. NYT staff writers Jeremy Peters and Danny Hakim also note in their piece on the Senate debaucle that Paterson “urged lawmakers to return to the Senate and settle the leadership fight, but he has been largely relegated to the sidelines”.

Wait a minute…

My days of Youth and Government are at least 7 years gone…but the last I checked…you are the Governor. How are you relegated to the sidelines of your own government? Why did this issue take 30 days to be resolved?

Paterson initially withheld salaries to end the deadlock caused by the jumping of parties, and then eventually appointed a new Lieutenant Governor to the post, effectively ending the deadlock, followed by Espada returning to the Democratic party two days following the appointment. Obviously, I’m not going to point out that prior to that appointment, there was no Lieutenant Governor in office, as Paterson had held that role before he was appointed to the Governorship. (Let’s not forget that the Lieutenant Governor’s position is the position in State government equivalent to the VP on a national scale. Just pointing that out.) If we all recall, Paterson replaced disgraced governor Eliot Spitzer after his decline from the top spot. (I haven’t even brought up the scandals yet. Do I actually need to? Isn’t this enough?)

And speaking of Spitzer…

We all remember the golden boy of NYS. The “Bulldog” of Wall Street, Spitzer as Attorney General broke with tradition and challenged ‘white collar’ offenders in his reign. He broke up several prostitution rings and money laundering issues as Attorney General. His election to Governor was easy and without real true competition. And then…

He resigned in March of 2008, slightly a year after his election. Why, you ask? Because he was ‘Client No. 9’ in a prostitution ring. 

*scratches head*

So yes, Andrew Cuomo has some issues to encounter, and none of them have anything to even do with his agenda, sadly. Cuomo’s task? To reverse NYS’s current status as a laughingstock government, subject to Saturday Night Live critique in other Senates across the country. We need a real government. Cuomo needs to find a legally binding way to oust current fossils in the Legislature (Silver, Meeks, and Clarke immediately come to mind…yeah, I SAID it, it had to be SAID) and to come forth with a team, led by himself and Lieutenant Governor-elect Robert Duffy, that will not only put structure, order, and actual decision making as a priority, but will actually pass laws. To help the people.

Y’know…your job. After all…if we (the people) don’t do our job…we get fired…right?

So I’m watching you, Andrew Cuomo. And if you care about what actually happens in your state…you will be, too. 

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Honesty Box (Self-Analysis #5 of...)

*dramatic cunt sigh*

I guess it’s time to get a little bit honest.

I know, I know. I’m a Sagittarius. I’m always honest.

But there are sometimes that even we Sags hold on to some stuff for fear of being entirely too brutally honest. If there’s one thing that I know that I’m good for being , it’s brutally honest. And that’s not always a good thing. Sometimes, brutal honesty does not come across in the manner with which you intended. Hence why it’s good to have a filter.

Having said that…

I burnt my filter and used it to smoke a beef brisket. I’m serious.

Perhaps it’s my lack of buns. It could be that. I’ve heard that a lack of sex can sometimes make you cranky. (thinks back to last time) That COULD be it…but it’s not the only thing. Lemme see how I can break this down...

1.     
            Relationships.

I’m seeing too many people in relationships who were nothing but shitheads to their other relationships…and they manage to be in healthy and happy relationships. There was a time that I would shun jealousy and envy, refusing to submit to them. I’ve recently learned that envy is a natural part of life and perfectly acceptable to feel as such – it makes you human. While I do not envy often, I do envy at times the shitheads that have managed to be blessed with good, healthy relationships. While this feeling of envy is a fleeting one (I don’t want to block my blessings),I do envy it – like, how the hell did you get so damn lucky? I know, I know. Your time is coming…don’t worry about others…trust me, their karma is coming…

Eff that. (KP voice)

Moving on…

2.       Friendships.

Sigh. My friendships always seem to be an issue for me. I trust heavily when I feel that the trust is worthwhile. At the same time, when I feel the trust is gone, I get rid of them quickly. But more and more I have been wondering – how good of a friend am I? Is it that my expectations of my friends are entirely too high, and that is why I have to keep ridding myself of them? (Note: I’m not getting rid of anyone. So relax.) I’m thinking that perhaps it is that I have too many people in my life. I think that’s the problem. I don’t need to make cuts – I need to stop bringing so many people into my cot-damn life. The less people in your life, the less you have to worry about their expectations of you and vice versa. After all this time, I’m still too cot-damn nice.

That’s going to change.

Perhaps, because I am the common denominator here…it’s time for me to take the step back and examine me.

3.       Love and Shit.

Urghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh….

I always love the wrong effing people. No really, I do. I fall for people that I probably have no business falling for. Oh yeah, sure, they teach me a lot and in abundance when I do so, but when I love, that person gets a piece of me. And to tell you the truth, I’m a bit over that. I have half a mind to just hit all the dudes up that I’ve ever fallen for and just be like, “so this is how I felt/feel, can I have my piece of me back?”

I’m serious.

I have some calls to make this evening. Some people will be thrilled with what I have to say. Some will be pissed as hell. Others still may feel indifferent. #shrug. Deal with it. This is ME. And, if I haven’t already mentioned this to you…I’m an intense mother-shut-yo-mouth.

Disclaimer: Please keep in mind that this is a venting post, designed to…well…vent. It has no true bearing on my actions, deeds, or feelings for anyone. Everyone in my life (that I like) is safe for the moment, and will not be cursed out/told off/cut off. #thatisall

As this is a venting post, please feel free to vent as well…

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The Romance Seeker

Wanted: purple tinged hyacinths with a sole calla lily, accompanied by a walk along the water’s side/snuggling up by a fireplace/strolling along the beach at sunset (options for the seasons). Must appear interested in actual conversation without forgetting to subtly compliment said companion. Should close the evening by being escorted to one’s door and a kiss good night. Home cooked meal – basket style optional.

See? I told allyuh I could be a girl sometimes.

My cousin and I got to talking about relationships and romance. She asked me the same question that I posed on my Facebook page: “Do you believe in romance? What is the most romantic thing you have ever experienced?”

What prompted this blog was the amount of time that it actually took me to answer that question.

Huh.

I’ve been on dates before. Granted, my dating history is limited – I didn’t start actually dating until 2005, close to 2006. (I’m not kidding.) Prior to that I’d been in an on again, off again, why-did-I-DO-that-again relationship with the father of my child.  I was a serial monogamist in my younger years, and when I would try to date, I would find myself in a relationship with said person, and then the dynamic would change. Apparently, in the relationships that I was in, dating was not a necessity – why date? You already got the guy/girl!

At least, that’s what my then boyfriend explained to me.

As single as I am now, I realize that my dating experience is still rather limited. The most dating I’ve ever done was this year – I got two…nope, three whole dates out of them before they disappeared. I suppose that’s all for the best, though. Everything happens for a reason. At any rate, there were those three dates, plus enough to count on one hand that I’ve ever been on. Not a one included flowers, or anything that might be considered romantic.

What the hell is romance, anyway? Merriam-Webster (oh come nuh, allyuh know I does define tings already!) defines romance as, “: to try to influence or curry favor with especially by lavishing personal attention, gifts, or flattery”. From what I’ve been told of myself, I’m ‘pretty confident on my own’, I’m ‘easy going and don’t appear to demand much attention’, and, my personal favorite, ‘I thought you’d be insulted if I got you something. I know how you independent women are’.

Now. *scratches head* I’ve never been the type of independent woman to demand that everything be done the way I’d want it done, in the sense that…ok, the easier way of putting this is, I’m not that ‘Destiny’s Child Independent Woman’. I don’t refuse gifts; I’m not a bitch about my independence. I always say that I am independent by need, not necessarily by desire. (It’s hard to explain.)

With all that said, I can honestly say that I can’t truly think of any instance where there was a romantic overtone on any of my dates (barring one shared milkshake date which I still think was really cute). For the most part, I’ve been told that my laid back demeanor and understanding nature leads to…whatever. Insert something.

So as I ponder this latest rambling thought process, I ask you: Do you believe in romance? What is the most romantic thing you have ever experienced?

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