Overall I've enjoyed the time I've spent with you. Thank you for everything, including the bad, from it I've learned and grown.
I wish you the best, take care of yourself.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
rant....
am i so crazy to think that if you say that you are going to accompany me somewhere, that you actually come...is it nuts that i tend to believe the words that are coming out of your mouth...maybe thats the issue, perhaps previous ones tended to believe that you like all else were mostly spewing bull-ish and much wasn't expected of you so you failed them....i have a tendancy to give ppl the benefit of the doubt until they give me reason not to...the reasons are becoming apparent...what it seems like you are failing to realize is that it hasn't been long enough for it not to add up....there is not that much space in between to let me forget...and so i have a very clear recollection of the fact that you tend to piss me off every weekend...I feel like you teach ppl how to treat you...but i can't figure out how to make it anymore clear to you how unacceptable this behavior is, not to mention i don't have children for several reasons and this is one of them, I don't want to patiently teach someone a lesson about how to conduct themselves, you're an adult and i expect you to know better, i don't want to have to teach you this sort of lesson that you should already know...I'm not with you to teach you...mother you...remind you...or absorb your disappointing behavior without complaint...i'm tired of complaining.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
The Homicide Report
The LA Times runs a blog called the Homicide Report which chronicles all LA County homicide victims and can be seen here: http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/homicidereport/.
I ran across it a couple weeks ago, and have periodically checked in on it.
It is strange.
I find it applaudable because it gives us more then our local news offers us, it puts a face to the "police responded to shots fired in South Central, again" stories that we hear on the local news. It gives some insight into the lives of these murdered individuals, without deifying them. It makes them human. Makes them seem like you and I, or my cousin, or my little brother.
On the other hand.
It is sickening. It is a blog that names all those killed in Los Angeles in a predominantly matter of fact, stand-offish journalistic manner. It feels perverse that I should read, see pictures of, and pass judgment on those murdered in LA last week. The realities that the "police responded to shots fired in South Central, again" stories allow me to remain ignorant of are laid bare, and I read them, and I am sickened.
Maybe I have a morbid fascination, maybe I just can't believe the sheer volume of lives lost, maybe I am trying to wrap my mind around the seemingly endless random shootings, maybe I need to believe that most who die in shootings did something to bring it upon themselves....but most didn't. For most the police and family are at a loss for why their relative was killed. I am confounded by this.
Its equally disturbing to read the ethnicities and genders of these victims. Overwhelmingly black or mexican men or boys.
I can't articulate in an organized manner all the things this homicide report calls to my mind...how much I love this city, but how incredibly different its regions are...Inglewood, South Central, the entire region bordered by the 710, 405, 10 and 105 despite being mere miles from hollywood, bev hills, santa monica are for all intents and purposes light years away from each other...how for those living in these regions the likelihood of getting shot is so high that it becomes a virtual right of passage....the reason there are no black men in LA is because they are being gunned down with regularity....I thought wearing the "wrong" color was so 1992, it ain't....contrary to what the media tells me, many of the young men killed in this way are not gang affiliated, they are wrong place, wrong time, victims of hot-heads and road ragers, they could basically be any of us....how irritated it makes me that the stories, faces, and families of hardworking people murdered senselessly don't make the news but there is virtually round the clock coverage of all things celebrity...the news never made me feel this way about my city....I feel like this blog/report should be required reading for all middle school and high school kids....maybe required reading for everyone.
I ran across it a couple weeks ago, and have periodically checked in on it.
It is strange.
I find it applaudable because it gives us more then our local news offers us, it puts a face to the "police responded to shots fired in South Central, again" stories that we hear on the local news. It gives some insight into the lives of these murdered individuals, without deifying them. It makes them human. Makes them seem like you and I, or my cousin, or my little brother.
On the other hand.
It is sickening. It is a blog that names all those killed in Los Angeles in a predominantly matter of fact, stand-offish journalistic manner. It feels perverse that I should read, see pictures of, and pass judgment on those murdered in LA last week. The realities that the "police responded to shots fired in South Central, again" stories allow me to remain ignorant of are laid bare, and I read them, and I am sickened.
Maybe I have a morbid fascination, maybe I just can't believe the sheer volume of lives lost, maybe I am trying to wrap my mind around the seemingly endless random shootings, maybe I need to believe that most who die in shootings did something to bring it upon themselves....but most didn't. For most the police and family are at a loss for why their relative was killed. I am confounded by this.
Its equally disturbing to read the ethnicities and genders of these victims. Overwhelmingly black or mexican men or boys.
I can't articulate in an organized manner all the things this homicide report calls to my mind...how much I love this city, but how incredibly different its regions are...Inglewood, South Central, the entire region bordered by the 710, 405, 10 and 105 despite being mere miles from hollywood, bev hills, santa monica are for all intents and purposes light years away from each other...how for those living in these regions the likelihood of getting shot is so high that it becomes a virtual right of passage....the reason there are no black men in LA is because they are being gunned down with regularity....I thought wearing the "wrong" color was so 1992, it ain't....contrary to what the media tells me, many of the young men killed in this way are not gang affiliated, they are wrong place, wrong time, victims of hot-heads and road ragers, they could basically be any of us....how irritated it makes me that the stories, faces, and families of hardworking people murdered senselessly don't make the news but there is virtually round the clock coverage of all things celebrity...the news never made me feel this way about my city....I feel like this blog/report should be required reading for all middle school and high school kids....maybe required reading for everyone.
Friday, June 15, 2007
This Job...
I just returned from a three hour lunch wherein I ate, had 3 stiff cocktails, and hit up a bar....Law school was the best decision I ever made...
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Memorial Day...the aftermath...
im so blown by all of this....this is precisely the part of relationships that i hate...when the behavior of the other person makes me miserable, and there isnothing that i can do to stop it, prevent it, or control it. If you want out just say so, but all this little stuff that is slowly sabotaging us, i can't take it. I did the chasing after someone who didn't want to be caught routine, it taught me a lesson, if he's not that into you, he's not that into you, and there is nothing you can do to rekindle what you may have had at first. I did the being with someone who i only trusted about 35% of the time, damn near drove me crazy, I can't take that either. i'm at a point where i want nothing but sheer unabashed honesty. if this is too much, you made a hasty decision, you have doubts or second thoughts...fine. i can appreciate and live with that. but i wont be with someone who i am constantly guessing about what they are thinking, or i'm always worried that they are going to pull the switch at any moment and surprise the heck out of me. i deserve better. i also deserve to enjoy my long weekend. men asked me this weekend if i was single and though i always replied no, it dawned on me that i felt pretty single, i haven't felt single in a couple of months but this weekend i totally did. and i imagine you did as well. i didn't feel loved or cared for by someone at all this weekend, i felt by myself. which is fine, i've spent lots of time by myself and it really aint that bad, granted being with you is better, i prefer that, but not if i'm just going to be feeling like this. so now i'm wondering....so then we chat....and thats why i didn't want to chat b/c it would only make it worse...and i just want to call you at work and scream at you but clearly i'm NOT going to do that, even though every fiber of my being just wants to pick up that phone, but i won't because i am professional and i am an adult, and...i just want to cry, but there is no crying at work, i have always had that rule, no tears at the office! so i'm just going to sit here and blink for a second or two and then i am going to get to work...i'm petrified that this is over, but i can't think about that right now b/c any second now blinking is about to stop working...work...yeah...work....
I draw the line...
I draw the line at deaf mutes.
So I am at the very least a decent looking woman with some notable attributes that tend to draw the attention of men.
I get that, and mostly I am totally ok with that.
But a line must be drawn somewhere. And I, Jennifer Yvonne Williams, heretofor, henceforth, towit draw said line at deaf mutes.
I am walking through the train station, I walk by a young blk man, in a ridiculous hood rich get up, who "Ay, Ay"'s me as I walk by. I nod, so as to not offend, who knows what lies beneath those emerald green dickie shorts (aka-capri's). When I stop walking to wait on my train, here comes green shorts. He stands next to me and proceeds to mumble something, without actually looking at him (eye contact tends to prolong these sorts of encounters) I say "excuse me"-more mumbling. I now look at him sharply, b/c I am irritated that this person is trying to talk to me without using words that an english speaking person can understand. Turns out he is expecting me to read his lips and the rudimentary (or perhaps advanced) American Sign Language he is "signing" (I feel like what he was doing would be an insult to ASL "speakers" "signors" "performers" not sure what the correct phrase is-then again how the heck would I know).
I'm looking at him, his lips are in fact moving, and he is using the pen in his hand to pretend scribble in his free hand indicating to me that he would like to write down my phone number, or maybe he needed directions, or me to call the police, get a splinter out of his hand...now that I think about it he could have been requesting anything. I smiled and said that I have a boyfriend.
He then proceeds to ask me a question...no seriously...the deaf, mute man/boy in green shorts asked me a question in that "speech" that deaf mute ppl make. So I say, "I'm sorry?", knowing full well that no matter how many times he repeats this statement/question/request/plea I will not understand him, yet somehow I'm thinking maybe if I pay close attention I can read his lips...me a hearing person, is now desperately trying to read the lips of the man/boy that I Didn't and Don't want to talk to, in order to make this very painful conversation stop...he repeats himself-blank stare from me.
Finally, I just say "yeah, I'm good thanks". Was that the answer to his question, who knows...and likely I'll never know. But at least he stopped "asking" me the question.
More gesticulating with pen to hand mimicing writing, I make a sad face and repeat that I have a boyfriend. The sad face apparently did the trick as green shorts shook his head, seemingly acknowledging my statements and walked away.
Here's a question, what or how were we going to talk if I had given him my number? He is deaf, and mute. I do not have all day to talk on that ttyl thing (wait is that what its called?).
Main point: I have drawn a line, and deaf mutes are on the opposing side of said line. I will not entertain their advances unless they have a notebook and working pen, and that is just all there is to it!
So I am at the very least a decent looking woman with some notable attributes that tend to draw the attention of men.
I get that, and mostly I am totally ok with that.
But a line must be drawn somewhere. And I, Jennifer Yvonne Williams, heretofor, henceforth, towit draw said line at deaf mutes.
I am walking through the train station, I walk by a young blk man, in a ridiculous hood rich get up, who "Ay, Ay"'s me as I walk by. I nod, so as to not offend, who knows what lies beneath those emerald green dickie shorts (aka-capri's). When I stop walking to wait on my train, here comes green shorts. He stands next to me and proceeds to mumble something, without actually looking at him (eye contact tends to prolong these sorts of encounters) I say "excuse me"-more mumbling. I now look at him sharply, b/c I am irritated that this person is trying to talk to me without using words that an english speaking person can understand. Turns out he is expecting me to read his lips and the rudimentary (or perhaps advanced) American Sign Language he is "signing" (I feel like what he was doing would be an insult to ASL "speakers" "signors" "performers" not sure what the correct phrase is-then again how the heck would I know).
I'm looking at him, his lips are in fact moving, and he is using the pen in his hand to pretend scribble in his free hand indicating to me that he would like to write down my phone number, or maybe he needed directions, or me to call the police, get a splinter out of his hand...now that I think about it he could have been requesting anything. I smiled and said that I have a boyfriend.
He then proceeds to ask me a question...no seriously...the deaf, mute man/boy in green shorts asked me a question in that "speech" that deaf mute ppl make. So I say, "I'm sorry?", knowing full well that no matter how many times he repeats this statement/question/request/plea I will not understand him, yet somehow I'm thinking maybe if I pay close attention I can read his lips...me a hearing person, is now desperately trying to read the lips of the man/boy that I Didn't and Don't want to talk to, in order to make this very painful conversation stop...he repeats himself-blank stare from me.
Finally, I just say "yeah, I'm good thanks". Was that the answer to his question, who knows...and likely I'll never know. But at least he stopped "asking" me the question.
More gesticulating with pen to hand mimicing writing, I make a sad face and repeat that I have a boyfriend. The sad face apparently did the trick as green shorts shook his head, seemingly acknowledging my statements and walked away.
Here's a question, what or how were we going to talk if I had given him my number? He is deaf, and mute. I do not have all day to talk on that ttyl thing (wait is that what its called?).
Main point: I have drawn a line, and deaf mutes are on the opposing side of said line. I will not entertain their advances unless they have a notebook and working pen, and that is just all there is to it!
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