Que Sera, Sera

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.

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.

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.

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...

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!

changes

he's moving near here. and i am petrified. like, want to change my number, relocate, take on my step-fathers last name, scared. my life is so good right now, i feel balanced, or at least closer to a state of equilibrium. but i feel like his move is going to ruin all of the work i've put in to get my mind right. as a whole i was much safer when he was far away. and now he'll be near here, and it just feels ripe for disaster.
the worst part, thinking about him being here, made me kinda happy today. Already, my efforts are eroding.

Just some stuff

So after all the pre-hype, preparation, planning, conference calling and obsessing, All Star Weekend happened.

And it totally lived up to the hype.

We had an absolute fabulous time. Our days were spent doing all the things that I LOVE to do...drinking, meeting strangers, engaging in conversations with said strangers, people watching, asking inappropriately personal questions of strange men, reducing men to their parts ("girl look at that back", "did you see his arms", "What was his name?" "I don't know but did you see the pecs and shoulders on that nice young chap??".

Speaking of men's body parts-I am most happy to be a woman when I walk up to a man's body that I find attractive and proceed to touch it as if it were a melon that I was inspecting for tenderness. Men's ego's being what they are, I have never known a man to complain about this sort of attention or request that I and my friends (who I inevitably call over to cop a feel as well) stop touching him. Men are so easy.

Anyhow, this wasn't a weekend wherein life long relationships were created, but I think that the relationship of me and my girls was definitely strengthened. I now know that normally picky eater J will eat almost an entire cow for breakfast after a long night of hanging out. I now know that the other J is a great hair stylist, and that we as a group will the use the attention that men lavish on J to our advantage whenever need be!

The downside of all star weekend was, as it always is, the behavior of my people. I know its Vegas, where you can drink, buy a prostitute legally, see naked women, party and/or chill for each of the 24 hours of every single day and so people tend to get besides themselves. But to lose all home training or regard for that which is socially acceptable public behavior...And what really gets me are the comments that women/girls are willing to respond to.

"Ay girl". Usually followed by the subsequent and seemingly compulsory "Ay, Ay, Ay". Unless that phrase is followed up with words like: fire, gun, car, run for your life...I refuse to even acknowledge that those comments may be directed at me. I assume that surely no one is trying to get my attention by yelling at me like a dog, "Ay girl"; surely they are talking to an animal, child, or some other "girl" in the vicinity. And yet I saw many women responding to this as if it was the customary address to a queen. Why? They don't recognize their value. They are unaware that they are worth, at the very least, that man getting off his lazy behind walking over to her and properly introducing himself as an adult man should. They either forgot or are just unaware that they are God's gift to men and don't have to settle for such tomfoolery.
Clearly "Ay girl" was not the most heinous example of dudes tryna holla, but it was certainly the most prevalent.
The fights, the shootings, the necessity of busloads of police officers...these saddened me most. It was if all the worst stereotypes about black people were on display for these combat ready police officers that were posted on every 15 feet of the strip. Frankly they made me feel safer. I just wonder would an event that drew 400,000 Japanese people require this kind of police presence, what about Puerto Ricans, Mexicans, Chinese, whites, southern whites? What makes some groups need this sort of supervision to prevent anarchy while others would likely be able to conduct themselves without incident....

Like Forreal, Forreal

I am too excited about this weekend.

No grown adult person should be this amped about going out of town. I'm like a 5 year old that knows she's going to disneyland tomorrow.

Except the theme park i'm going to involves alcohol, hoe-couture (as J likes to call it), and what i can only hope is a sea of big backs as far as the eye can see. Which is SOOOOO much better then disneyland, 5 year olds are idiots!

Mostly I hope its a fun trip that reaps lots of great stories...stories that I may need to take with me to my grave, but stories nonetheless.

all falls down

I'm so angry.

So hateful, right now.
I have tried to let this go, and i do well for a while. At least I stopped wishing that she would die.
But then something happens that brings it all back to mind, and I can barely concentrate for being so preoccupied with hostility.
And the fact that me thinking of her and that situation makes me feel like this makes me hate her even more for having this kind of power and control without even trying or saying a word to me.
and I hate him.
but i hate him at least once a week, and usually twice on sundays so that is nothing new.
but i forgot about my capacity for ill will.
I gotta work on this, this is terrible.

And to think just yesterday I was so happy.

True, True

This is from DailyOM.com:

Owning Your Emotions
Name It And Claim It

Our feelings can sometimes present a very challenging aspect of our lives. We experience intense emotions without understanding precisely why and consequently find it difficult to identify the solutions that will soothe our distressed minds and hearts. Yet it is only when we are capable of naming our feelings that we can tame them by finding an appropriate resolution. We retake control of our personal power by becoming courageous enough to articulate, out loud and concisely, the essence of our emotions. Our assuming ownership of the challenges before us in this way empowers us to shift from one emotional state to another-we can let go of pain and upset because we have defined it, examined the effect it had on our lives, and then exerted our authority over it by making it our own. By naming our feelings, we claim the right to divest ourselves of them at will.

As you prepare to acknowledge your feelings aloud, gently remind yourself that being specific is an important part of exercising control. Whatever the nature of your feelings, carefully define the reaction taking place within you. If you are afraid of a situation or intimidated by an individual, try not to mince words while giving voice to your anxiety. The precision with which you express yourself is indicative of your overall willingness to stare your feelings in the face without flinching. Naming and claiming cannot always work in the vacuum of the soul. There may be times in which you will find the release you desire only by admitting your feelings before others. When this is the case, your ability to outline your feelings explicitly can help you ask for the support, aid, or guidance you need without becoming mired in the feelings that led you to make such an admission in the first place.

When you have moved past the apprehension associated with expressing your distressing feelings out loud, you may be surprised to discover that you feel liberated and lightened. This is because the act of making a clear connection between your circumstances and your feelings unravels the mystery that previously kept you from being in complete control of your emotional state. To give voice to your feelings, you must necessarily let them go. In the process, you naturally relax and rediscover your emotional equilibrium.



I've always known that I was no good at keeping my emotions bottled up.

Those women you hear about who suspect thier husband of cheating b/c they find a miniscule clue, so they patiently wait and gather more evidence over time until they have an airtight case or come upon the smoking gun.

I am incapable of this.

The first miniscule clue I find he will know all about it 2.5 seconds after I find out about it.

I always thought this rush to confront and or tell ppl how I feel was a result of my impatience. I don't like to wait-on anything. I'm all about right now.

But recently I experienced a situation where for various and lengthy reasons I wasn't able to articulate to the person how I felt, how angry, hurt and saddened I was by their actions. It took such an unexpected toll on me. I was angry about the situation so I ended up angry about everything else, since I couldn't talk to the person I wanted/needed to talk to I didn't want to talk to anyone. My spirit was so heavy, I felt toxic, like I was making myself ill carrying around all these emotions. I didn't talk about the situation to anyone else because i've always felt like if you aren't going to tell the person that made you mad about your anger then what is the point of discussing your anger at all, what point is served if your telling ppl who have no ability to help the situation.

So I held it in.

When I was finally able to talk to the person and tell them how I felt and why I felt that way, it was such a sweet release, I could finally let go of the anger and the hurt. My mere statement of feelings by no means provided any resolution to our situation, and I was never under the belief that it would, but once I said my peace i was in a place where I could actually hear what they needed to say to me.

Funny thing is if they had taken the dailyOM's advice in the first place this entire situation wouldn't have existed.

As usual I'm right...lol

19th Grade

It all started with Eric Lytle. The year was 1986. We attended Coyote Canyon Elementary School, and we were both in Mrs. Smith's kindergarten class. Beginning from day one Eric and I vyed for the top spot in the class. He was so smug, and certain that his boyhood made him infinitely smarter then me. I'll admit he won many of the battles, I often came in second to his scores. But in 6th grade I won the war-I was asked to skip 7th grade. He was livid, I took great pleasure in informing him that my maturity level in combination with my academics were the reason given for the catapult to 8th grade. I don't think Eric ever recovered, I know that I never stopped gloating.
Fast forward 10+ years. I'm a lawyer. Its a job. I do it because it pays me and because I like the work involved. I'm not a rocket scientist, I haven't cured cancer, I don't race stock cars, I go to work, read stuff, and give my opinion. I had no idea the effect my job title would have on my interactions with men or how at 25 I'd still be embroiled in a competition a la Eric v. Jennifer k-6.
Lately it seems all my conversations with men follow this general pattern:

They: What do you do?
I'm a lawyer
They: REALLY. Wow. Well I'm a professional too, I do __________. I mean I'm thinking about going back to school but_________. But I mean I make good money, etc....How old are you?
25
They: wow....(more exploratory questions) So you have a roommate?
No
They: so you live by yourself?
Yep
They: well what kind of car do you drive?
Honda civic
They: (usually some gesture of relief along with some variation of:) OH well I drive a (insert car that is better then 2000 Honda Civic-which incidentally is almost any car).
ok.

I've had almost this exact conversation more times then I care to remember and each time I ask the same question at the end-"I'm sorry, are we in some sort of competition?" And even though the verbal answer is always no, all other indications seem to point to the contrary.
It starts with the job and/or eduation, when and/or if they feel like they can't compete on that level we move on to living situation, if they feel like thier living situation isn't up to par then we devolve to the type of car that I drive. It amazes me the amount of confidence they regain when the figure out that their car is better then mine, like they've won something, like they can go back to feeling good about themselves, and I am now once again attainable.

What is with that?

In their defense these same men claim that a professional woman doesn't intimidate them, that they would be ok if their girl/wife made more money them etc. But that sentiment doesn't ring true when they interrogate me to find a "chink" in my supposed armor.
I had this conversation on Saturday and on Monday I went looking for a new car, and I thought to myself what happens when I get a new car? Will my job, living situation, and car conspire to break the spirit of every man I meet from now on? Is it a requirement that a man have or do something "better" then a woman for him to feel secure? Many argue that men need to feel needed by their women, and when that isn't the case gender roles are reversed and take a toll on the relationship.

That's dumb.

Too much ppl, way too much

I am a fairly open person, I realize this. But my deepest, darkest, most intimate/embarrassing tidbits are reserved for a special few.

People give up FAR too much information.

In the past few weeks I have learned that my co-worker's 13 year old son has a very large penis and balls for his age. That the cup that they make him wear for little league gives him a horrible rash in said enlarged nether region. Furthermore the boy sleep walks and inevitably ends up in his mother's bed NIGHTLY.
I don't have kids, I have never lived with other kids so perhaps I'm not the most knowledgeable on these matters, but all of this info seems so wrong on so many levels. Who tells ppl these things, who would want others to know these things? And most importantly why me...what did I do to deserve this level of discomfort?

My other co-worker informed me today that she has an STD from one of her many ex-boyfriends, and the most recent ex has been rather stand-offish since learning this information.
Again...Why? Just Why? It wasn't as if the conversation began by me asking "Ever been given an STD by an ex?" In that case I can see answering honestly and with the utmost voracity but if the conversation is about a lawsuit against said ex, which has nothing to do with said STD, why bring up said STD? Just gloss over it...I'm not/won't be sleeping with you so why the heck do I need to know?

Just...do us all a favor...keep somethings for yourself and those closest to you. It will make me having to fake comfort much less painful.

In other news....

"I'm feeling SEXY, I wanna hear you scream my name, boy". My hair is pulled back into the perfect Jennifer Anniston/JLo/Gwenyth Paltro/Sara Jessica Parker ponytail. Which is no easy feat considering I'm black. However it's picturesque (I should take a picture today....)plus my makeup came out great, and I'm just all around feeling like a hot girl. Too bad I'm in Newport Beach where no one who notices would say anything to me anyway! Dah well...I know I'm fly.

Hola

Ok so, I have always had a desire to maintain some sort of memoir, journal or the like, because I mean lets face it, I'm brilliant and my thoughts should be memorialized. Unfortunately along the way I have run into a few roadblocks:

My mother-she had to know everything, couldn't hide a diary from her to save my life. Realized a diary in my mother's house was a futile effort.

School-Some how writing major papers weekly lessened my zeal to write anything non-scholarly.

More school-Reading volumes of material seemed to have the same effect as paper writing.

But now, at this point in my life, with so much going on I feel the need to keep some sort of record of my thoughts and feelings. So much has changed as of late, and trying to sort out all my feelings about everything in my head has become quite cumbersome. So here I am about to spill my heart to an unknown audience. And I think I like it.

To some degree I feel like this whole blog writing thing is in keeping with my extreme vanity (being back in LA has made it much worse)...B/c honestly I could very easily cure this need to write with any $.59 notebook from Wal-Mart, but they apparently discriminate against women so who wants to support them!? Therefore, this is the only way.

I guess I should tell you a little bit about me to put it all in perspective.
I'm 23, I grew up in Rancho Cucamonga, CA, went to college in Claremont, CA and now attend law school in Virginia. Over the past two years I moved away from home for the first time, I fell in love for the first time, I had a horrible terrible emotionally and mentally scaring break up for the first time, and had Chik-fil-A for the first time.

It's been a big two years.

This time next year I will have graduated from law school, and be preparing for the bar. Which means that I will be out of school, not just on break or vacation...But done with school. I have no clue what life is like not being in school, or not anticipating being back in school. That thought coupled with taking the CA bar has me very anxious about next summer. I'm excited to graduate, but so many things have to happen by then that its all a bit nerve racking.
Que sera sera.

J