I am incredibly secretive. About everything and nothing. If you were to call my house (when ppl still had house phones) and ask me who I was, I would immediately check you for questioning me in my house about who I am-Who did you call numbnut?
I don't appreciate when people ask me where I was, where I am going, or who I was with. The answers are always: Not where you were, not with you, or not you.
Yet this whole dating thing is supposedly some happy event that I'm supposed to be including those that I love in. Letting them get to know this person that I am incorporating into my life.
It was my preference to keep it secret. I just think secrets are better. I also know how incredibly opinionated the people in my life are. But somehow I got convinced or too happy or drunk and I thought it would be ok to start telling people my business. This was a mistake.
An exhausting, maddening, driving me nuts mistake. I should have gone with my first mind and kept my happiness to myself. As I get older its becoming clearer to me that I can only concern myself with my happiness. I am not going to please everyone, there will be lots of people that won't agree or see my perspective on my decisions and I have to be ok with that. Because as long as I am happy with my choices and I haven't broken any spiritual, moral or state laws, then everyone will just have to deal.
And then President Obama interrupts the football game to pay respects to those lost in Newton, CT and whatever issues I thought I had seem incredibly petty, insignificant and inconsequential.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Sunday, December 02, 2012
Q4...
The latter portion of this year has been a doozy. And that is putting it mildly. But I've missed you all so lets just jump in shall we.
1. I always wondered what my reaction would be if either of my parents informed me that they had cancer. I got an opportunity to find that out a few months ago. Answer: Cry and be depressed for 24 hours. Then research the cancer and allow myself to believe that in fact my dad would be just fine. A few weeks after that I got to discover what I would do when I found out my dad had ANOTHER form of cancer in/near a place that is generally considered always fatal. Answer: Cry, pray, and research for a full 24 hours, until I convinced myself and could sound convincing to others that he would be alright. Within days of that diagnosis he had a date for surgery and I was booking a flight to try to get there ASAP.
Surgery was a success and his recovery has gone very well over these last few months. He starts chemo and radiation in the next few weeks. And with each hurdle I'm more sure that its conquerable and that he will get through this as well.
But when I tell you that this has been the most emotionally draining and exhausting process for everyone in my family. To see the strongest man you know so fragile and so unsure is devastating. Its a reminder of how quickly time passes, how often I ignored a phone call, deleted a forwarded email, or just generally acted like a human adult child to retired parents. Despite those retrospective failings my sister and I dropped what we were doing to be as supportive as possible and stay with my parents for as long as we could. Being there and being helpful was the least I could do for people who have done everything for me, but their gratitude and comfort at having us present showed how valuable that time and presence was to them.
His treatment is ongoing, but I have an enormous amount of faith that I will have numerous opportunities to ignore his phone calls and delete his chain forwarded emails for many years to come. It is overwhelming how badly I need these upcoming years.
2. I figured out what I want to do with my life. A friend of mine relocated to DC leaving her job available. She was able to get me an interview for the Attorney Recruiter position with a big firm. I was ecstatic. Got all gussied up and went to the interview. Had an outstanding interview. And did not get the job. They needed someone who could step in and immediately know the ins and outs of the job. That was completely understandable. And i'm so glad that I was able to interview and remember why this is the job that i always wanted to end up in. With that in mind, I applied to some agencies and am in an interview process with one of them. I'm praying/hoping/additionally praying that I get this job. I'm ready to be hype about what I'm doing again, ready to work in an office with other people, ready to have work clothes and do make up daily, have lunch with my friends and colleagues...all those things I took for granted when I worked in an office downtown before. I am so ready for this career change. Join me in prayer won't you.
3. I met Him. The Him that I described in my LIST...yeah that guy. He exists. Surprised the hell out of me too.
I've actually known him since I was a kid, he's been a friend to my cousins since they were all little. Sometime ago my cousin mentioned that he (the Him) lived in my city and we should hook up. My cousin has always found it hilarious to try to hook me up with crazy ppl, so I take any suggestion about men from him with a grain of salt. And by grain of salt I mean I completely ignore him like I do the rantings of any crazy person. So when Him contacted me on Facebook, I was completely indifferent. Chatty and cordial but indifferent. Almost a full year went by of FB messages, declined invites, and failures to pick up a phone and call, until I randomly reached out to invite him for a drink. It was fun, easy, light. Him impressed with my knowledge of hip hop, me impressed with his shoulders and conversation skills. Then there were dates 2-5. Then I left to attend to my parents on the East coast. I knew being away that long would either kill something so new or cause it to speed up. We spent three weeks talking on the phone and texting, allowing the fondness to grow exponentially in the absence. I was sold by the time I got home. I wasn't prepared to admit that I was sold, but I was done for by then. He is amazing. Funny, charming, kind, strong willed, genuine, honest, and not the least bit intimidated or threatened by me. He is good to and for me and I'm in love. That all consuming all you want to talk/think/do is about Him or with Him. I make myself a little sick.
Its moving fast, cause we are old, and have been at this rodeo before. We know ourselves and the kind of relationship we want. We share a religion, commitment to zero kids, and a love of alcohol, music and parties. Really what more is there? I have every intention of marrying this man. Its just a matter of time.
It's been an eventful end of the year. A friend texted me a while ago and asked how was life, I responded: "Life sucks and is awesome at the same damn time." And ain't that the truth all the time? Like my congregation discussed today, all you can do is focus on the positive. Focus on your joy-a joyful heart is a wonderful curer.
1. I always wondered what my reaction would be if either of my parents informed me that they had cancer. I got an opportunity to find that out a few months ago. Answer: Cry and be depressed for 24 hours. Then research the cancer and allow myself to believe that in fact my dad would be just fine. A few weeks after that I got to discover what I would do when I found out my dad had ANOTHER form of cancer in/near a place that is generally considered always fatal. Answer: Cry, pray, and research for a full 24 hours, until I convinced myself and could sound convincing to others that he would be alright. Within days of that diagnosis he had a date for surgery and I was booking a flight to try to get there ASAP.
Surgery was a success and his recovery has gone very well over these last few months. He starts chemo and radiation in the next few weeks. And with each hurdle I'm more sure that its conquerable and that he will get through this as well.
But when I tell you that this has been the most emotionally draining and exhausting process for everyone in my family. To see the strongest man you know so fragile and so unsure is devastating. Its a reminder of how quickly time passes, how often I ignored a phone call, deleted a forwarded email, or just generally acted like a human adult child to retired parents. Despite those retrospective failings my sister and I dropped what we were doing to be as supportive as possible and stay with my parents for as long as we could. Being there and being helpful was the least I could do for people who have done everything for me, but their gratitude and comfort at having us present showed how valuable that time and presence was to them.
His treatment is ongoing, but I have an enormous amount of faith that I will have numerous opportunities to ignore his phone calls and delete his chain forwarded emails for many years to come. It is overwhelming how badly I need these upcoming years.
2. I figured out what I want to do with my life. A friend of mine relocated to DC leaving her job available. She was able to get me an interview for the Attorney Recruiter position with a big firm. I was ecstatic. Got all gussied up and went to the interview. Had an outstanding interview. And did not get the job. They needed someone who could step in and immediately know the ins and outs of the job. That was completely understandable. And i'm so glad that I was able to interview and remember why this is the job that i always wanted to end up in. With that in mind, I applied to some agencies and am in an interview process with one of them. I'm praying/hoping/additionally praying that I get this job. I'm ready to be hype about what I'm doing again, ready to work in an office with other people, ready to have work clothes and do make up daily, have lunch with my friends and colleagues...all those things I took for granted when I worked in an office downtown before. I am so ready for this career change. Join me in prayer won't you.
3. I met Him. The Him that I described in my LIST...yeah that guy. He exists. Surprised the hell out of me too.
I've actually known him since I was a kid, he's been a friend to my cousins since they were all little. Sometime ago my cousin mentioned that he (the Him) lived in my city and we should hook up. My cousin has always found it hilarious to try to hook me up with crazy ppl, so I take any suggestion about men from him with a grain of salt. And by grain of salt I mean I completely ignore him like I do the rantings of any crazy person. So when Him contacted me on Facebook, I was completely indifferent. Chatty and cordial but indifferent. Almost a full year went by of FB messages, declined invites, and failures to pick up a phone and call, until I randomly reached out to invite him for a drink. It was fun, easy, light. Him impressed with my knowledge of hip hop, me impressed with his shoulders and conversation skills. Then there were dates 2-5. Then I left to attend to my parents on the East coast. I knew being away that long would either kill something so new or cause it to speed up. We spent three weeks talking on the phone and texting, allowing the fondness to grow exponentially in the absence. I was sold by the time I got home. I wasn't prepared to admit that I was sold, but I was done for by then. He is amazing. Funny, charming, kind, strong willed, genuine, honest, and not the least bit intimidated or threatened by me. He is good to and for me and I'm in love. That all consuming all you want to talk/think/do is about Him or with Him. I make myself a little sick.
Its moving fast, cause we are old, and have been at this rodeo before. We know ourselves and the kind of relationship we want. We share a religion, commitment to zero kids, and a love of alcohol, music and parties. Really what more is there? I have every intention of marrying this man. Its just a matter of time.
It's been an eventful end of the year. A friend texted me a while ago and asked how was life, I responded: "Life sucks and is awesome at the same damn time." And ain't that the truth all the time? Like my congregation discussed today, all you can do is focus on the positive. Focus on your joy-a joyful heart is a wonderful curer.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Come to Jesus...
After my bootcamp class workout this morning I was talking to the trainer changing my credit card info b/c apparently I have been shopping so little lately that a trip to costco, some clothes, and some gas all in the same day sent my bank to suspect fraud and halt my account...for the SECOND TIME in one month. Le Sigh...Can I live Bank of America, can I breathe?
Anyhow the trainer was basically like you COULD have an incredible body if you would stop Bs'ing! (he said it much more diplomatically and complimentary but this was the main point) I work out hard, I could stand to be more consistent but clearly the issue is what I'm doing outside the gym. So what am I doing outside the gym???
I've been having a torrid and ongoing affair with Vodka since 2002. I love it. It loves me. Who am I kidding, I've been seeing its friends Red Wine, Whiskey and Hennessy as well. *for shame*.
While I have cut back from my alcohol consumption, apparently its not enough to make a difference in my weight loss/video vixen body status.
So this morning my trainer took it upon himself to have a come to Jesus meeting with him re: what the heck I'm doing with my fitness life. Its fair. He is interested in my results both as the architect of my new bod and also as someone who would eventually like to get his hands on it.
But it did jog me back to the reality of what is the point of all this working out if I'm just going to drink away any possible gains I might be making. So he has made the personal training offer, and a diet to follow for 30 days (he'd prefer 45) to see if his way works better than mine. I know that he is right, and that if I followed his directions that I would lose weight...I just don't want to spend the rest of my life only eating brown rice and then exercising like a maniac to work off said rice. But if my body looks like Anowa Adjah (The fit Nigerian or Thick healthy-whatever she calls herself) while I'm eating and then promptly feeling guilty for that rice, won't I be too busy thinking how sexy I am to care? These are the questions.
Me being a teacher's pet, having someone that I respect and that I am contractually bound to see for the next 6 months hold me responsible for my weight loss is very motivating. Hopefully this little talk will get me going in a legitimately positive direction.
Anyhow the trainer was basically like you COULD have an incredible body if you would stop Bs'ing! (he said it much more diplomatically and complimentary but this was the main point) I work out hard, I could stand to be more consistent but clearly the issue is what I'm doing outside the gym. So what am I doing outside the gym???
I've been having a torrid and ongoing affair with Vodka since 2002. I love it. It loves me. Who am I kidding, I've been seeing its friends Red Wine, Whiskey and Hennessy as well. *for shame*.
While I have cut back from my alcohol consumption, apparently its not enough to make a difference in my weight loss/video vixen body status.
So this morning my trainer took it upon himself to have a come to Jesus meeting with him re: what the heck I'm doing with my fitness life. Its fair. He is interested in my results both as the architect of my new bod and also as someone who would eventually like to get his hands on it.
But it did jog me back to the reality of what is the point of all this working out if I'm just going to drink away any possible gains I might be making. So he has made the personal training offer, and a diet to follow for 30 days (he'd prefer 45) to see if his way works better than mine. I know that he is right, and that if I followed his directions that I would lose weight...I just don't want to spend the rest of my life only eating brown rice and then exercising like a maniac to work off said rice. But if my body looks like Anowa Adjah (The fit Nigerian or Thick healthy-whatever she calls herself) while I'm eating and then promptly feeling guilty for that rice, won't I be too busy thinking how sexy I am to care? These are the questions.
Me being a teacher's pet, having someone that I respect and that I am contractually bound to see for the next 6 months hold me responsible for my weight loss is very motivating. Hopefully this little talk will get me going in a legitimately positive direction.
Friday, August 03, 2012
A few...
1. I am sick of being alone. I do sometimes get irked by random couples I see out, on some "she got him, and I'm alone. SERIOUSLY!?" Before being alone was cool b/c I was choosing to be alone, there were ppl I could have been with I just didn't want them. Now, though. There are no ppl. No one is trying to holla, no one is giving me the option to say, naw I'm cool-Thanks though. Nonetheless it is what it is. It doesn't feel like something I have control over, I'll meet someone when I meet someone. But until then I would rather be pessimistic and assume that this is my life get used to it, than to hope for someone who may never come and be disappointed.
2. I need a new convertible strap bra. The one have now is literally being held together with safety pins. Which means I will have on a fab outfit with a bra underneath that might pop off at any moment. I need to get that together ASAP.
3. I spoke with my most recent Ex recently. He and his wife just celebrated their one year anniversary. This is the first time since a couple days before his wedding that we have spoken. The last time we spoke he asked if we could come over to my house 'to chill'. I knew at the time that he had a baby on the way and that he would likely marry the mother since that is the type of dude he is. I declined his visit, and immediately he retracted the offer as if he was just playing. You know the old, "I'm just playin'...unless you are going to do it?!" On facebook two days later I saw that he got married. Needless to say we didn't speak for a year. The conversation we had last week was as if we hadn't missed a beat. Jokes from the jump, our old teasing routines about my consistent 0-60 reaction speed, and his inability to be in a relationship longer than 6 months at a time, etc. hilarious stuff. I have a tendancy to make light of this relationship since at the time it seemed like maybe I had imagined the whole thing. He let it go so easily that maybe it was all in my head the whole time. But in our conversation each time I even jokingly suggested that our relationship was anything less than a full fledged relationship he would shut that down immediately. Apparently it wasn't just me. That made me feel good and gave me some closure to that chapter of my life.
4. Go Gabby!! I recently read Melissa Harris-Perry's book Sister Citizen and in it she discussed the notion of Kinship. Its the feeling that many black ppl have that the successes and failures of other black people reflect on them. When we see a black man do well in the world we are proud of him, he is one of 'us' he could be our cousin, brother, or father. Likewise when black men try to rob a Burlington Coat Factory in Inglewood at 8am and hold the employees hostage in a standoff with police-we feel a sense of shame and wonder whose Bebe cousins thought robbing a store BEFORE IT EVEN OPENS was a good idea! So when Gabby Douglas delivers an amazing display of gymnastics it feels like my little sister just did something incredible with the whole world watching. I'm not a nationalistic kind of person, and only watch the Olympics occassionally but I must say-I am some kind of proud of one Gabby Douglas.
5. I'm old. You wanna know how I know? I went out Friday-Mon this past week and that completely wore me out. Tonight, a Friday night. I am super crunk to stay home and sew tonight. Sewing on a Friday night at home alone. The life of a star I guess.
2. I need a new convertible strap bra. The one have now is literally being held together with safety pins. Which means I will have on a fab outfit with a bra underneath that might pop off at any moment. I need to get that together ASAP.
3. I spoke with my most recent Ex recently. He and his wife just celebrated their one year anniversary. This is the first time since a couple days before his wedding that we have spoken. The last time we spoke he asked if we could come over to my house 'to chill'. I knew at the time that he had a baby on the way and that he would likely marry the mother since that is the type of dude he is. I declined his visit, and immediately he retracted the offer as if he was just playing. You know the old, "I'm just playin'...unless you are going to do it?!" On facebook two days later I saw that he got married. Needless to say we didn't speak for a year. The conversation we had last week was as if we hadn't missed a beat. Jokes from the jump, our old teasing routines about my consistent 0-60 reaction speed, and his inability to be in a relationship longer than 6 months at a time, etc. hilarious stuff. I have a tendancy to make light of this relationship since at the time it seemed like maybe I had imagined the whole thing. He let it go so easily that maybe it was all in my head the whole time. But in our conversation each time I even jokingly suggested that our relationship was anything less than a full fledged relationship he would shut that down immediately. Apparently it wasn't just me. That made me feel good and gave me some closure to that chapter of my life.
4. Go Gabby!! I recently read Melissa Harris-Perry's book Sister Citizen and in it she discussed the notion of Kinship. Its the feeling that many black ppl have that the successes and failures of other black people reflect on them. When we see a black man do well in the world we are proud of him, he is one of 'us' he could be our cousin, brother, or father. Likewise when black men try to rob a Burlington Coat Factory in Inglewood at 8am and hold the employees hostage in a standoff with police-we feel a sense of shame and wonder whose Bebe cousins thought robbing a store BEFORE IT EVEN OPENS was a good idea! So when Gabby Douglas delivers an amazing display of gymnastics it feels like my little sister just did something incredible with the whole world watching. I'm not a nationalistic kind of person, and only watch the Olympics occassionally but I must say-I am some kind of proud of one Gabby Douglas.
5. I'm old. You wanna know how I know? I went out Friday-Mon this past week and that completely wore me out. Tonight, a Friday night. I am super crunk to stay home and sew tonight. Sewing on a Friday night at home alone. The life of a star I guess.
Friday, July 20, 2012
You have got to be joking me.
Over a YEAR. A full YEAR since I've blogged?? What the what?
I guess that kind of makes sense though. This year has not been my fav and I tend to ignore the bad like a kid ignores vegetables.
Nonetheless..."its been a long time, I shouldn't have left you".
The Good:
I'm alive. That counts, right?
Actually today is a pretty good day. I feel sorta healthy (don't worry still fat), I'm feeling close to and happy about my family, I feel connected spirituality and close to my congregation, I'm working out with some measure of consistency (my trainer is hot and flirty-I'm finally glad to go to my exercise class). My hair is fab.
Let's expound on that last one shall we.
I went to the shop a couple weeks ago after my annual summer attempt at being natural-This time I lasted a whole WEEK! Yay!-for a press and some much needed color. Being its summer and I could use a pick me up, I wanted to go just a LITTLE lighter then my normal copper penny color (think: brand spanking new copper penny and that has been my signature color for the eons that I have been on this earth). My lovely stylist and I have been together for years. She knows that I am vibrant when it comes to hair, when I get a weave I want ALL 8 ounces in my head, the more hair, the more Mufasa/diana ross it is the better I love it. So even though I explicitly said no blonde, I am now blonde. How did I not notice this was happening, you ask. Well my stylist also knows that I don't complain and I don't question. You are the professional I came here to get your services, I intend to allow you to do that with little to no interference from me. So unless the pain is unbearable, or you are completely going off the rails I'm pretty much going to let you do your thing. Letting her do her thing ended up with me being a black girl with a whole crown of blonde hair. Yep, I'm that black girl. The one I swore I would never be, yet here I am. Grey and hazel contacts, have been ordered-I just thought I would complete the look. Ridiculous fake eye color aside, turns out I'm a pretty hot blonde. Who knew.
Also, a blonde white woman made a joke about being forgetful and being blonde and then turns TO ME and says, "but I don't have to tell you about that". Hahaha.Umm.Wait.What.
The other new love of my life is SEWING!! My mom was a seamstress the whole while I was growing up. I took a sewing class when I was young wherein we made a Blossom scrunchie and a drawstring tote bag and the teacher constantly hounded my "lead foot". I knew then that she and that dumb class were beneath me. What was I supposed to do with a scrunchie?? After that class I think I turned a few pairs of jeans into skirts and maybe made a terrible dress. Other than that sewing gave way to electronics not to be heard from again until last month. I decided when my mother visited that I wanted to learn to sew. When I tell you that this woman was happy. Doesn't even begin to explain it, me sewing with her is THEE happiest/proudest moment of her life. Needless to say it was a fun activity to do together I made a dress, shirt, 3 skirts and a dress by myself after she left.
Jennwill Black Label Fall 2013. Get your life.
Despite my crisis of career (more on that later) the amazingness that is my friend(s) have enabled me to take some fantastic trips this year. Spent a week in Puerto Rico in February. Let me tell you, you want to see the perfect mixes of African, Latin, Native, European-go to Puerto Rico. I have never seen that many wildly attractive men in one place. It felt like what being a man in a major city must be like. Also explained Lil Wayne's "I wish I could F every girl in the world"...if the "world" is Puerto Rico and the genders were reversed-I totes get it.
Then last weekend I went with my book club to Napa and Sonoma. Someone described it as Wine Disneyland. That is completely accurate. You just go from building to building drinking, all day. And no one judges you. The only problem is that now that I am home, I still want to start my day with Champagne and drink various white and red varietals throughout. Why is that wrong? Why does society say that each day can't be a wine tasting day? Darn society. According to my dad it starts with mornings of champagne and turns into Boone's Farm and living outdoors.
TheBad Other:
Life has been interesting lately. And not interesting in the good way.
A HUGE part of my life is changing and with it my perception of who I am and what I am about. When life does an about face it calls into question what is success, what makes me happy, who am I, how do I identify myself. I realized that I am a title person. <--- See I LOVE a title to something.
Jennifer the Title Person
Put simply I like to exist in a box. I am a woman. I am black. I am a lawyer. Those are my boxes. I don’t mind if you infer whatever you will from those titles, they are who I am and I’m totes cool living in those boxes. They make me feel safe and responsible. See I’m so responsible that despite the first two boxes, I did good for myself!! Be proud of me!
But what if I’m not a lawyer then what’s my neat little box? Business person? Person with a job? I work at so and so? Those are not well defined boxes. That’s more like a bin, or a tub, or vat. Boo to vats. Boo to my pride. Which was much further grown and rambunctious than I would like to admit. I thought far more of myself than I needed to based upon attaining some sort of ‘accomplishment’ that trust fund kids attain in droves while coked up and barely attending class.
The reality is my title is just a job. It describes the sort of work I can do. It doesn’t even necessarily describe the work that I actually do. And yet I was married to that title. That title kept me warm at night, fulfilled my need to be ‘about something’, let me check the success box, the self assured, the good head on her shoulders expectation of myself and others. That title was better to me than any boyfriend I’ve ever had. And perhaps that is most akin to what breaking up with this title is like. Its like breaking up with the love of my life-the man I wanted more than anything for years. The man I worked so hard to finally get into my clutches. The man who appeared gorgeous and perfect, who just looked like he would treat me like a dream. Then after I got him I realized he wasn’t shit. He was more trouble than he was worth, he didn’t satisfy me in the least…but when we went out and I got to introduce him around town, I could see his reflection back in the eyes of onlookers and it was good. He made one hell of an impression . But after years of living this pretend life wherein I’m happy with him, we’re breaking up. Did I waste those years getting him and being with him? Does breaking up with him make me some sort of failure? Perhaps I was never good enough to be with him anyway? Etc, etc, etc.
That’s been my grieving process over the last 8 months or so. And just like a real break up I’m finally feeling better. I’m coming back around. I’m realizing that he simply wasn’t my passion . And when its time to move on its time to move on. Cut your losses and keep it pushing. That is where I am these days. Keeping it pushing. Figuring out my life and moving in a new direction with it. A direction where I enjoy what I do, where I’m not caught up titles, where my ego is not the motivating force in my life decisions.
Oprah used to talk about how as you age you become less and less concerned with the thoughts and opinions of others and that it was one of the best things about getting older. I can attest to that. I’m 31. I give 50% less fcuks about others opinions about my life then I did when I was 20 or 25. And that is wonderfully liberating. No one else lives, or funds this life of mine. I’m the dictator around these parts.
Welcome back to my kingdom.
Over a YEAR. A full YEAR since I've blogged?? What the what?
I guess that kind of makes sense though. This year has not been my fav and I tend to ignore the bad like a kid ignores vegetables.
Nonetheless..."its been a long time, I shouldn't have left you".
The Good:
I'm alive. That counts, right?
Actually today is a pretty good day. I feel sorta healthy (don't worry still fat), I'm feeling close to and happy about my family, I feel connected spirituality and close to my congregation, I'm working out with some measure of consistency (my trainer is hot and flirty-I'm finally glad to go to my exercise class). My hair is fab.
Let's expound on that last one shall we.
I went to the shop a couple weeks ago after my annual summer attempt at being natural-This time I lasted a whole WEEK! Yay!-for a press and some much needed color. Being its summer and I could use a pick me up, I wanted to go just a LITTLE lighter then my normal copper penny color (think: brand spanking new copper penny and that has been my signature color for the eons that I have been on this earth). My lovely stylist and I have been together for years. She knows that I am vibrant when it comes to hair, when I get a weave I want ALL 8 ounces in my head, the more hair, the more Mufasa/diana ross it is the better I love it. So even though I explicitly said no blonde, I am now blonde. How did I not notice this was happening, you ask. Well my stylist also knows that I don't complain and I don't question. You are the professional I came here to get your services, I intend to allow you to do that with little to no interference from me. So unless the pain is unbearable, or you are completely going off the rails I'm pretty much going to let you do your thing. Letting her do her thing ended up with me being a black girl with a whole crown of blonde hair. Yep, I'm that black girl. The one I swore I would never be, yet here I am. Grey and hazel contacts, have been ordered-I just thought I would complete the look. Ridiculous fake eye color aside, turns out I'm a pretty hot blonde. Who knew.
Also, a blonde white woman made a joke about being forgetful and being blonde and then turns TO ME and says, "but I don't have to tell you about that". Hahaha.Umm.Wait.What.
The other new love of my life is SEWING!! My mom was a seamstress the whole while I was growing up. I took a sewing class when I was young wherein we made a Blossom scrunchie and a drawstring tote bag and the teacher constantly hounded my "lead foot". I knew then that she and that dumb class were beneath me. What was I supposed to do with a scrunchie?? After that class I think I turned a few pairs of jeans into skirts and maybe made a terrible dress. Other than that sewing gave way to electronics not to be heard from again until last month. I decided when my mother visited that I wanted to learn to sew. When I tell you that this woman was happy. Doesn't even begin to explain it, me sewing with her is THEE happiest/proudest moment of her life. Needless to say it was a fun activity to do together I made a dress, shirt, 3 skirts and a dress by myself after she left.
Jennwill Black Label Fall 2013. Get your life.
Despite my crisis of career (more on that later) the amazingness that is my friend(s) have enabled me to take some fantastic trips this year. Spent a week in Puerto Rico in February. Let me tell you, you want to see the perfect mixes of African, Latin, Native, European-go to Puerto Rico. I have never seen that many wildly attractive men in one place. It felt like what being a man in a major city must be like. Also explained Lil Wayne's "I wish I could F every girl in the world"...if the "world" is Puerto Rico and the genders were reversed-I totes get it.
Then last weekend I went with my book club to Napa and Sonoma. Someone described it as Wine Disneyland. That is completely accurate. You just go from building to building drinking, all day. And no one judges you. The only problem is that now that I am home, I still want to start my day with Champagne and drink various white and red varietals throughout. Why is that wrong? Why does society say that each day can't be a wine tasting day? Darn society. According to my dad it starts with mornings of champagne and turns into Boone's Farm and living outdoors.
The
Life has been interesting lately. And not interesting in the good way.
A HUGE part of my life is changing and with it my perception of who I am and what I am about. When life does an about face it calls into question what is success, what makes me happy, who am I, how do I identify myself. I realized that I am a title person. <--- See I LOVE a title to something.
Jennifer the Title Person
Put simply I like to exist in a box. I am a woman. I am black. I am a lawyer. Those are my boxes. I don’t mind if you infer whatever you will from those titles, they are who I am and I’m totes cool living in those boxes. They make me feel safe and responsible. See I’m so responsible that despite the first two boxes, I did good for myself!! Be proud of me!
But what if I’m not a lawyer then what’s my neat little box? Business person? Person with a job? I work at so and so? Those are not well defined boxes. That’s more like a bin, or a tub, or vat. Boo to vats. Boo to my pride. Which was much further grown and rambunctious than I would like to admit. I thought far more of myself than I needed to based upon attaining some sort of ‘accomplishment’ that trust fund kids attain in droves while coked up and barely attending class.
The reality is my title is just a job. It describes the sort of work I can do. It doesn’t even necessarily describe the work that I actually do. And yet I was married to that title. That title kept me warm at night, fulfilled my need to be ‘about something’, let me check the success box, the self assured, the good head on her shoulders expectation of myself and others. That title was better to me than any boyfriend I’ve ever had. And perhaps that is most akin to what breaking up with this title is like. Its like breaking up with the love of my life-the man I wanted more than anything for years. The man I worked so hard to finally get into my clutches. The man who appeared gorgeous and perfect, who just looked like he would treat me like a dream. Then after I got him I realized he wasn’t shit. He was more trouble than he was worth, he didn’t satisfy me in the least…but when we went out and I got to introduce him around town, I could see his reflection back in the eyes of onlookers and it was good. He made one hell of an impression . But after years of living this pretend life wherein I’m happy with him, we’re breaking up. Did I waste those years getting him and being with him? Does breaking up with him make me some sort of failure? Perhaps I was never good enough to be with him anyway? Etc, etc, etc.
That’s been my grieving process over the last 8 months or so. And just like a real break up I’m finally feeling better. I’m coming back around. I’m realizing that he simply wasn’t my passion . And when its time to move on its time to move on. Cut your losses and keep it pushing. That is where I am these days. Keeping it pushing. Figuring out my life and moving in a new direction with it. A direction where I enjoy what I do, where I’m not caught up titles, where my ego is not the motivating force in my life decisions.
Oprah used to talk about how as you age you become less and less concerned with the thoughts and opinions of others and that it was one of the best things about getting older. I can attest to that. I’m 31. I give 50% less fcuks about others opinions about my life then I did when I was 20 or 25. And that is wonderfully liberating. No one else lives, or funds this life of mine. I’m the dictator around these parts.
Welcome back to my kingdom.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
T.V.
I watch a lot of tv. I work from home primarily and need background noise, don't judge me. I can honestly say that most of what is on television is complete crap.
Despite this fact I also have a condition wherein if I have begun tivoing a show I feel some sort of compulsion to continue watching it, regardless of how much I dislike the show, how bad it gets, or how many episodes I allow to stack up in my tivo before I begrudgingly watch. Its an odd loyalty that I have to shows that I may have initially been interested in. I just keep hoping that it will get good again, while I sado-masochistically (spelled correctly the first time I typed it! Boom!)watch and endure.
One show I have never had to hurt myself by watching is Justified on FX. As a disclaimer I must say that I love nearly all of FX's programming: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, The League are two of my favorite comedies on television. Damages had an amazing first season, and though season two started a bit slow I am very much looking forward to the next season. Sons of Anarchy is FANTASTIC. Rescue Me has waned in quality over the past few seasons but the sexinessessess that are Daniel Sunjata and Larenz Tate, are reason enough to continue to tune in-especially when they are often shirtless and/or showering....LAWD.....
Getting back to Justified, this is an excellent, layered, well acted, swaggerific, country show. Set in backwoods Kentucky the life and times of Raylan Givens and all of the interesting people that occupy the vortex where his past and present are colliding are an entertaining spectacle to watch. It's one of the shows I look forward to most. Everyone should watch and this season and its finale were a pitch perfect example of why.
Some of my other favorite shows include: Breaking Bad (AMC), Dexter (Showtime. I'm a couple seasons behind with Netflix), Modern Family(ABC), Louie(FX), Todd Margaret(IFC), The Good Wife(CBS), and Southland(TNT). These are just what I consider to be the upper echelon of cable/network dramas and comedies, and barely scratch the surface of the complete list of things that I tivo. Again, stop judging me.
In other TV related issues, I don't know how other cities do it? How does Orlando not just have mass suicides, or Boston over the past couple years? Knowing your team is good enough to win it all, when you are used to winning, when your team is the team to beat, and then they actually get beat....Like Leann Rimes, how do I live?? My dad told me that years of having the Rams in LA prepared him for losses like this. That was before my time of caring about football. Apparently I should have paid attention, for I am not taking this well. And for my non LA readers, I am uber sincere in my uber sensitivity to this issue...I will Andrew Bynum you, tread lightly.
I am happily on the much better side of strep throat. For whatever reason I didn't take my hypochondriac illness obsessed self to the doctor in any sort of timliness, so by the time I went to the doctor swallowing anything for any reason literally rocked my body, mind and spirit. It was awful. The ONLY upside is that I couldn't eat, and even as I got better eating still wasn't appealing due to my throat still being sore. Now my throat isn't all that sore but my appetite is tiny...I feel like Mary Kate and Ashley in this piece! I'm about to be strep throat chic for the summer!
Despite this fact I also have a condition wherein if I have begun tivoing a show I feel some sort of compulsion to continue watching it, regardless of how much I dislike the show, how bad it gets, or how many episodes I allow to stack up in my tivo before I begrudgingly watch. Its an odd loyalty that I have to shows that I may have initially been interested in. I just keep hoping that it will get good again, while I sado-masochistically (spelled correctly the first time I typed it! Boom!)watch and endure.
One show I have never had to hurt myself by watching is Justified on FX. As a disclaimer I must say that I love nearly all of FX's programming: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, The League are two of my favorite comedies on television. Damages had an amazing first season, and though season two started a bit slow I am very much looking forward to the next season. Sons of Anarchy is FANTASTIC. Rescue Me has waned in quality over the past few seasons but the sexinessessess that are Daniel Sunjata and Larenz Tate, are reason enough to continue to tune in-especially when they are often shirtless and/or showering....LAWD.....
Getting back to Justified, this is an excellent, layered, well acted, swaggerific, country show. Set in backwoods Kentucky the life and times of Raylan Givens and all of the interesting people that occupy the vortex where his past and present are colliding are an entertaining spectacle to watch. It's one of the shows I look forward to most. Everyone should watch and this season and its finale were a pitch perfect example of why.
Some of my other favorite shows include: Breaking Bad (AMC), Dexter (Showtime. I'm a couple seasons behind with Netflix), Modern Family(ABC), Louie(FX), Todd Margaret(IFC), The Good Wife(CBS), and Southland(TNT). These are just what I consider to be the upper echelon of cable/network dramas and comedies, and barely scratch the surface of the complete list of things that I tivo. Again, stop judging me.
In other TV related issues, I don't know how other cities do it? How does Orlando not just have mass suicides, or Boston over the past couple years? Knowing your team is good enough to win it all, when you are used to winning, when your team is the team to beat, and then they actually get beat....Like Leann Rimes, how do I live?? My dad told me that years of having the Rams in LA prepared him for losses like this. That was before my time of caring about football. Apparently I should have paid attention, for I am not taking this well. And for my non LA readers, I am uber sincere in my uber sensitivity to this issue...I will Andrew Bynum you, tread lightly.
I am happily on the much better side of strep throat. For whatever reason I didn't take my hypochondriac illness obsessed self to the doctor in any sort of timliness, so by the time I went to the doctor swallowing anything for any reason literally rocked my body, mind and spirit. It was awful. The ONLY upside is that I couldn't eat, and even as I got better eating still wasn't appealing due to my throat still being sore. Now my throat isn't all that sore but my appetite is tiny...I feel like Mary Kate and Ashley in this piece! I'm about to be strep throat chic for the summer!
Friday, April 29, 2011
...Of Pimps and....
So its Friday morning I have a hearing downtown LA, so as my usual I hop the lovely blue line to save me the gas and parking (as an added bonus I get to read and see my people). As I'm walking to buy my ticket I hear two dudes talking on the steps to the platform, one comes over to where I am to watch me and the other stays put.
Now I know that there is no way not to cross their path so I get my game face on, brace myself for the duo ghetto combo. I'm not sure if I'm the only one who notices this but there is strength in numbers-you pass one ghetto dude and you might get some whispered comments in your direction, perhaps even an outloud "hey girl!" But that's really about it. You pass through two or more and they feed off one another, they are commenting about you/at you as much for your benefit as for each other.
And sure enough I hit the stairs and the youngest one thinks I am beautiful, sexy, I've got it like that, damn girl, etc. The older just keeps looking at my behind and smacking his mouth sucking his teeth. I pass quickly yet politely say good morning to both. As I'm near the top of the stairs and all they can see is my behind walking up stairs (is there a better viewpoint of me? Doubtful.) The younger says "you are the definition of a beautiful black woman". Nice! Right?! The older says in reply "naw she ain't that fine." Oh. Ok.
So now I'm on the platform reminding myself that I am in fact not that cute. And here comes the older one walking toward me...in what can only be described as a pimps ode to the Lakers (I take Laker love in all forms), an enormous rayon/poly blend purple and yellow button up (I almost wrote "dress shirt", but that just couldn't possibly be right) that nicely complemented the tattoo under his right eye and the one on his neck.
So he's asking me what I do, informs me that he is a pimp (said with all seriousness) and that he is moving to vegas for one month to make a quick 30k and then he's coming back here, maybe. Ok two things: if you can go somewhere and make 1000 per day, why would you leave that place? Secondly, is it "moving" if you are only staying 30days?
Anyhow, we chat. He apparently thinks I'm L7 (a square), convo wanes. My train comes and I'm like well I catch it down here so bye, he replies "go on then, ain't noby keeping you here!" Now mind you, it was all said with a smile in a jokey way but still it was like all chatty, chatty cool and then 'bitch get on!' Oh. Ok.
As I'm walking away I chunk him the dueces and turns out this means that I do know more then I'm letting on, with this one motion I negate my L7 status. So he comes walking over yelling about "oh you just gone chuck me the deuces, see you need a backhand (while making the motion), you need to be put in line, etc." I chuckle and state that I'm a suburb girl who knows nothing about nothing, I'm from Rancho Cucamonga with a little Pomona thrown in. His reply: "oh you got Ptown in there, Sugafree damn near invented this pimpin' ish."
By now I'm getting on the train and realizing that he is getting on train with me and the train car is EMPTY. Great, just what I wanted alonetime with a pimp. On an empty train one would think he would sit in front of me or across the isle, nope he sits right next to me. Now I have to figure out a nice way to tell him to get away from me and sit elsewhere, b/c I've seen "American Pimp" and I know how it can switch from all good to all bad in a second. And I really didn't want to start my morning in a slap fight with a pimp showing unintentional Laker love.
He says "I'm Bougie by the way." I didn't know if he meant that as an adjective or...then I realized it was his name. NICE. And to further impress upon me his stupendous level of class, "feel my shirt...this shit is soft...you feel that?" Sadly I think he was under the impression it was silk...it wasn't.
In the meantime he is wiping his running nose and I spy what I think is my way out of sitting with him..."are you sick?" I ask? "I don't want to be sick!" He assures me that he's not sick his nose is just running from the cocaine from last night. I also learned that coke goes well with filet mignon (and he pronounced it pheonetically mig-non...how the classy do it), and causes you to wake up angry. Now I've seen "what's love go to do with it" as well and recall what coked up Ike did to Tina...needless to say I settled into my ride with a pimp named Bougie and decided to endure his closenss.
For a brief moment we had a pleasant and rational conversation about the merits of the straight life, and traveling, and as the next stop came near he turns his full body toward me and says:
"So uh, you ain't gettin no younger, so whatchu wanna do?"
I have no clue what he meant by that, I don't understand the context, I don't know if he meant was I planning on continuing the straight life vs. joining him, if he meant was I planning on joining him for the day, if I wanted to come to vegas with him for his "move", or simply if I was going to give him my phone number. I don't know, and will never know b/c I fell out laughing, loudly, full head back tilt, mouth open. He laughed at me laughing but I think it was a serious question.
The stop came, he hugged me goodbye, wished me a nice day and left to me still cracking up.
Later in the day I'm telling my cousin and her Australian boyfriend about a pimp named Bougie that I met on the train, and boyfriends immediate response was: "Pimps ride the train?" Oh but they do, oh but they do.
Now I know that there is no way not to cross their path so I get my game face on, brace myself for the duo ghetto combo. I'm not sure if I'm the only one who notices this but there is strength in numbers-you pass one ghetto dude and you might get some whispered comments in your direction, perhaps even an outloud "hey girl!" But that's really about it. You pass through two or more and they feed off one another, they are commenting about you/at you as much for your benefit as for each other.
And sure enough I hit the stairs and the youngest one thinks I am beautiful, sexy, I've got it like that, damn girl, etc. The older just keeps looking at my behind and smacking his mouth sucking his teeth. I pass quickly yet politely say good morning to both. As I'm near the top of the stairs and all they can see is my behind walking up stairs (is there a better viewpoint of me? Doubtful.) The younger says "you are the definition of a beautiful black woman". Nice! Right?! The older says in reply "naw she ain't that fine." Oh. Ok.
So now I'm on the platform reminding myself that I am in fact not that cute. And here comes the older one walking toward me...in what can only be described as a pimps ode to the Lakers (I take Laker love in all forms), an enormous rayon/poly blend purple and yellow button up (I almost wrote "dress shirt", but that just couldn't possibly be right) that nicely complemented the tattoo under his right eye and the one on his neck.
So he's asking me what I do, informs me that he is a pimp (said with all seriousness) and that he is moving to vegas for one month to make a quick 30k and then he's coming back here, maybe. Ok two things: if you can go somewhere and make 1000 per day, why would you leave that place? Secondly, is it "moving" if you are only staying 30days?
Anyhow, we chat. He apparently thinks I'm L7 (a square), convo wanes. My train comes and I'm like well I catch it down here so bye, he replies "go on then, ain't noby keeping you here!" Now mind you, it was all said with a smile in a jokey way but still it was like all chatty, chatty cool and then 'bitch get on!' Oh. Ok.
As I'm walking away I chunk him the dueces and turns out this means that I do know more then I'm letting on, with this one motion I negate my L7 status. So he comes walking over yelling about "oh you just gone chuck me the deuces, see you need a backhand (while making the motion), you need to be put in line, etc." I chuckle and state that I'm a suburb girl who knows nothing about nothing, I'm from Rancho Cucamonga with a little Pomona thrown in. His reply: "oh you got Ptown in there, Sugafree damn near invented this pimpin' ish."
By now I'm getting on the train and realizing that he is getting on train with me and the train car is EMPTY. Great, just what I wanted alonetime with a pimp. On an empty train one would think he would sit in front of me or across the isle, nope he sits right next to me. Now I have to figure out a nice way to tell him to get away from me and sit elsewhere, b/c I've seen "American Pimp" and I know how it can switch from all good to all bad in a second. And I really didn't want to start my morning in a slap fight with a pimp showing unintentional Laker love.
He says "I'm Bougie by the way." I didn't know if he meant that as an adjective or...then I realized it was his name. NICE. And to further impress upon me his stupendous level of class, "feel my shirt...this shit is soft...you feel that?" Sadly I think he was under the impression it was silk...it wasn't.
In the meantime he is wiping his running nose and I spy what I think is my way out of sitting with him..."are you sick?" I ask? "I don't want to be sick!" He assures me that he's not sick his nose is just running from the cocaine from last night. I also learned that coke goes well with filet mignon (and he pronounced it pheonetically mig-non...how the classy do it), and causes you to wake up angry. Now I've seen "what's love go to do with it" as well and recall what coked up Ike did to Tina...needless to say I settled into my ride with a pimp named Bougie and decided to endure his closenss.
For a brief moment we had a pleasant and rational conversation about the merits of the straight life, and traveling, and as the next stop came near he turns his full body toward me and says:
"So uh, you ain't gettin no younger, so whatchu wanna do?"
I have no clue what he meant by that, I don't understand the context, I don't know if he meant was I planning on continuing the straight life vs. joining him, if he meant was I planning on joining him for the day, if I wanted to come to vegas with him for his "move", or simply if I was going to give him my phone number. I don't know, and will never know b/c I fell out laughing, loudly, full head back tilt, mouth open. He laughed at me laughing but I think it was a serious question.
The stop came, he hugged me goodbye, wished me a nice day and left to me still cracking up.
Later in the day I'm telling my cousin and her Australian boyfriend about a pimp named Bougie that I met on the train, and boyfriends immediate response was: "Pimps ride the train?" Oh but they do, oh but they do.
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