A Few Things that Piss Me Off...

...most people would refer to these as "pet peeves" or what have you. I simply call them what they are. These are not in order of importance, just whatever pops into my head first.

1) Men. Don't get me wrong. I am not one of those women that are a die-hard, bra-burning-in-protest type of feminists, nor am I gay (Heaven forbid). Men, in general, annoy the hell out of me. The ones I have encountered are the worst types of people to ever walk the earth. I am one of those rare, endangered optimists when it comes to the types of folks I encounter. I believe that people are naturally good. However, the sons of bitches that I know all have some ulterior motive, a blatant motive, or just don't know a good friend/mate when they see one. Yes, I have my ways, I'm a bitch, yada yada. But I don't know any women that aren't at least 1/8 bitch. It's innate, unfortunately. Just like men are innately assholes. The type of guy I'm attracted to is the man's man: he's charming, funny, romantic, loving, fatherly...just a wonderful person to be around and look up to. However, most of these men KNOW they have these characteristics. Therefore, they are the worst type of assholes, because they are conceited, borderline arrogant. Then of course, there are the best friend men. In this case, the woman or the man has made it clear that there will never be anything between them, and they have come to a mutual acceptance. Of course, this guy still wants to have sex with this woman. THIS IS NOT OKAY. Sex is not this thing to do at half-time or just because we're in the same room. It's supposed to special, damnit. Yes, that usually means in a bed, guys.

2) People with no damn goals. Everyone knows you were the shit in high school...so what. That was umpteen years ago. Let's move on and make lemonade. You may have made a mistake and had a kid or four, but you can still go to college and make something out of the shit that you've developed into. If it's just learning how to do that extra difficult color technique at cosmetology school, do it! Get off your dimpled ass and DO SOMETHING.

3) Reality shows. Clearly, this is a phenomenon that has gotten out of hand. It all started with Big Brother and Survivor, and evolved (I use that word as loosely as possible here) into shows like Flavor of Love and The Hills. Never has the acronym "wtf" been more appropriate. I don't understand them. If you give someone a scenario and say "Go do this," isn't that the OPPOSITE of reality?

4) People that portray that they are perfect. Now everyone that knows me is aware that I have no qualms about saying when I am wrong about anything. Whatever I don't know, I am going to ask someone that does. Unfortunately, there is that terrible, horrific subspecies of people that believes that they truly are perfect, or try to show everyone else that they are. I truly believe that this is a weak attempt to compensate for some childhood trauma where, as a post-adolescent, they feel the need to show everyone that they are in fact as good as, if not better, than everyone else. Ever heard "To err is human"? That goes for you too.

More coming soon...

Chillin Really Means "Go Take a Cold Shower"...

I am sick, I repeat, SICK and tired of the novel connotation of this word, "chillin". Chillin used to hold the meaning of just hanging out with friends, watching television, playing video games, etc; whatever people did to relax and escape from the pressures of the day-to-day. However, in today's hormone-driven generation who are constantly bombarded with ulterior and blatant sexual messages, "chillin" has grown to mean the old connotation, but with a twist: result in sex. I don't know how this came to be, but it now means an immense amount of pressure on women. They have either the choice of chillin with this person and turning down the eventual request for intercourse, maintain her dignity, but lose a friend. On the other hand, she could give in, allow the compromising of her morals, and he still leaves. As I said: lose-lose. One theory of mine regarding this word metamorphosis is that teens today have too much free time and too little supervision. I was watching a television show the other day and a teenage girl and boy were in her room...alone...with the door closed. This moment is a byproduct of broadcast producers and writers flirting with the unthinkable, which has been reflected in an increasing number of shows. Teenage boys end up being fathers at seventeen, fathers allow the boyfriend of his teenage daughter to move into his home, and the proverbial list goes on. The problem is: this isn't too far fetched anymore. What will writers produce when this becomes the norm?

My question is: why can't guys be more direct? Instead of the tried-and-true "Hey do you wanna chill?", why not be honest and blunt? Let's go with "Hey, would you like to be invited to my home to I can beat around the bush all night, and eventually I will ask you through my body language to engage in intercourse with me?" Sure, it doesn't sound as appealing, but honesty is the best policy! Also, why doesn't it work the same way when the roles are reversed? If a man asks to chill, has sex with his chill partner (which is the new moniker for friend with benefits, ugh), and leaves, it's perfectly normal. If a woman did this, her chill partner would consider her a woman with promiscuous sexual morals (also known as a whore) or heartless. Secretly, men are just as emotional as women. Men search for women they find attractive, make up in their minds to have emotionless, no-strings-attached sex with her, and when she doesn't appear to be head over heels in love with him, he is taken aback. Oftentimes, he, in turn, develops feelings for her. This is the most BACKWARDS shit I have ever seen in my life. Instead of being so chill, put that shit in the microwave and let the girl know you like her!

Tired of This Relationship Shit...

Where the hell do I go from here? For four years, we have been to heaven and hell and everywhere in between, and frankly...I can't take it anymore. I can't take the possessiveness, the jealousy, the distrust...it physically sickens me. How are two people supposed to be in a relationship with a constant sense of competition and ownership? I thought slavery ended with the Emancipation Proclamation. I am no one's chattel and absolutely DESPISE being treated as such. In every previous relationship I've been in there was always a sense of reciprocity, a feeling of equality. I hate feeling owned. My sense of freedom is extinguished, my privacy is invaded. As a human being, this feeling of indentured servitude is against everything in my innate psychoanalysis. The worst kind of slavery is mental, forced upon the ego only through external captors, such as ignorance and the occasional mentally abusive relationship. However, mental prison is far more dangerous and less rehabilitative to the prisoner. The mental correctional facility corrects nothing, rather, it does the opposite. There are is no parole, or any work release programs; the exit circumstances are quite black and white. Either you remained imprisoned or you write your own ticket out. And all the fuck I wanna know is: where's my pen?...

Is the Bottle Half Empty or Half Full? Doesn't Matter. I Was Thirsty.

Something was brought to my attention today by someone very close to me...apparently I have a problem completing things. On my desk, I have three half full Gatorade bottles (or are they half empty?); I have all of my homework assignments done...except for one. I began to think...is this because I am incomplete subconsciously? Are my actions my mental acting outs? That is, is my mind telling me something through my actions? I figure myself to be pretty self-aware; I drink and curse entirely too much, I love ice cream and chocolate, and I couldn't cope with life if I wasn't an athlete. This epiphany scares the hell out of me. Last week I heard voices in my head as I was trying to sleep. Does this make me a schitzo? People in movies are forced with the daunting task of facing themselves and finding out who they really are...and some aren't up for the challenge. I ponder...am I? Am I ready to face my worst enemy and my best friend? The question remains...

Shortstop #2: Ignorant Ass (Racist) People

Today I heard one of the most disturbing things (to me) I've ever heard in today's supposedly nonracist society. The late night show "Chelsea Lately" with some dumb white chick trying to be Conan O'Brian, except avec vagina, blatantly shared their views about Beyonce trying to play a Black Superwoman. Yes, this is a tad over the line for the boisterous bombshell, but the show goes on to fervently and adamantly attest that America is not ready to have a Black Superwoman. WTF. We just, and I mean JUST, voted a Black man as president of the gotdamn Free World, but a Black superhero is simply unfathomable? Where is the logic in that? Well, clearly logic does not run this country...if that was the case, Bush wouldn't have even had a taste of the presidency. And for eight years at that...

Shortstop #1: Ride or Die

Something that was on my mind: wht exactly is the definition of a "ride or die" female? Ever since the term was coined, I have been perplexed. Is this the woman depicted in the urban blockbuster "Belly" as Keisha, who spent time in jail for her would-be beau, while he received fellatio from the hoodrat up the street? Keisha indulged in the fruits of her lover's drug infested world and paid the price for it. She was driven to murder a man who savagely beat her looking for her boyfriend. I know for a fact for many of the women who seemingly wish to bear this moniker, there is nothing at all glamourous about getting beat up for someone else. Then, of course, the term has also been made an urban vocabulary staple by the uber-street rap artist Ace Hood. The featured R&B singer on the track croons the hook, "...through it all they gon' stand right beside you..." No matter what, there is always a line. Either ride...or die. You can't have your cake and eat it too.

Reflection...Still Means Looking Into a Mirror

Everyone worries and focuses on disorders, whether they're physical or mental. But what about those that aren't readily identified? Personality disorders, for one. They are elusive and can be hidden easily with defense mechanisms. I have been in denial to the fact that there is actually anything wrong with my behavior. I've been paranoid: every time I walk into a room, I can swear everyone is looking at me; when someone laughs, I immediate check myself for anything that can be perceived as humorous. This is also called projection. Wikipedia.com, not an incredibly viable source, but I digress, tells: "The underlying belief systems informing these patterns are referred to as Fixed fantasy or dysfunctional. The inflexibility and pervasiveness of these behavioral patterns often cause serious personal and social difficulties, as well as a general functional impairment." Hence, my dilemma. I am a self diagnosed crazy person. People are so against and offended by the word crazy because of the connotation it holds. However, I have been lying to myself for this long, so why not be honest? Finally. According to the personality disorders defined in the ICD-10 Chapter V, I am a mess. A literal melting pot of insanity. I haven't gotten 8 hours of sleep in the past three week so that gives me acute to moderate sleep disorder (because of the interruption of my Circadian rhythm). Then of course, there's my favorite: borderline personality disorder. "Borderline personality disorder is a psychiatric diagnosis in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders characterized by depth and variability of moods. It typically involves unusual levels of instability in mood; "black and white" thinking, chaotic and unstable interpersonal relationships, as well as a disturbance in the individual's sense of self. In extreme cases, this disturbance in the sense of self can lead to periods of dissociation. These disturbances can have a pervasive negative impact on many or all of the psychosocial facets of life. This includes difficulties maintaining relationships in work, home, and social settings. Attempted suicide and completed suicide are possible outcomes, especially without proper care and effective therapy. Onset of symptoms typically occurs during adolescence or young adulthood." This is subsidsized into the form that most accurately describes me, histronic personality disorder. "Histrionic personality disorder (HPD) is a personality disorder characterized by a pattern of excessive emotionality and attention seeking, including an excessive need for approval and inappropriate seductiveness, usually beginning in early adulthood. The essential feature of histrionic personality disorder is an excessive pattern of emotionality and attention-seeking behavior. These individuals are lively, dramatic, enthusiastic, and flirtatious."

As one can imagine, this has made it incredibly difficult for me to engage into a serious, long-term relationship. My ex-boyfriend of four years is a saint, clearly. He has dealt with me through violence, cheating and my own selfish impulses. It wasn't until one night I was with him and we had a particularly emotional night that I realized that I hated myself. I hated who I was, what I'd done, and more than anything, the fact that I didn't know what the HELL to do about it. I was sick and tired of the emotional and mental strain that this was taking out on me. I no longer wanted to hurt myself. Having sex and emotionally giving myself to different people all for the sake of attention...I realized that this was the worst form of self-mutilation. Cutting wasn't my style...I'd tried it and it didn't really blend with my bracelets, and it scared people away. No, my "style" was doing all I could for attention, doing everything in my power to make sure that I was noticed. Sometimes I would sit and think about how everyone crowds around a dancer at a party; I had to be that dancer. I had to be the party starter and the center of attention.

Now that my self -diagnosis is complete, it's up to me to find out why these things came to be. Was it something extremely dramatic in my past that comes to haunt me out of my subconscious shadows? What is this elusive truama that strikes me? What makes me who I am? Is it because my father wasn't there? Could be. My mother gave me all the love and attention she could. I never went hungry and whatever I wanted and needed, I had. I love my mother with all my heart and would never want to see her cry or hurt. However, there is something about a man being in a female child's life...there is something about him telling her that she is his princess...and I never received that. I never knew what it was like to have a man tell me I was beautiful, until he had his own selfish, hidden agenda in doing so. I used to think high school men were dirty, filthy, undiscerning creatures...that is, until I found out women are the same. Most of my female friends in high school were just like me: overly flirtatious, boisterous, energetic. That is, all the ones who didn't have fathers. As an example: one of my best friends in high school had a father who was active in her life, supported her in whatever she did and reprimanded her when the situation called for it. However, there was another one of my high school friends who had a different boyfriend every 4 months who left her after they slept with her and she was an emotionally clingy, easily influenced person. I loved both of my friends very much, but in any case, there was a strong, deep-seated covetousness toward my friend whose father was in her life. The disorder was so evident that not only did I want her father to be my dad, I had a romantic crush on him.

I won't say my high school days are long gone. I won't say that I will always have a personality disorder. What I am saying is that I won't let it beat me. I refuse to take medication, even though I'm a proverbial loony tune. I love the people that love me too much to let my own devices devour me. I have been so convinced that I was independent and self-supporting when in actuality, that was the exact opposite of what I was. It's like a person telling everyone else that they're cool. If you have to tell everyone, it has the exact opposite effect. I'm doing this so I don't kill myself. I'm doing this before I get addicted to something that's a lot worse that ice cream and shopping. I'm doing this so I learn how to love myself...that's the only way I can truly love someone else.

Is the Control Worth the Passion?

Letter to My Ancestors...

To my elders, ancestors and all who have gone before me...I want to apologize on behalf of a generation. We apologize for taking your zeal for our rights for granted. We weren't there that faithful day that a tired woman refused to give up her seat, igniting CHANGE. We weren't there when a man was shot who only dreamed of his people living in peace and harmony. Yet, we're here to all-too-often forget what you've done for us; how you have paved the way so that we may have limitless goals. You lived in a time where ambition was a sin, not a virtue. You lived when Poverty was the best friend of many races...and yet you prevailed. You, our mothers, whose strong arms chastised us and hug us from the basis of the same emotion. You, are fathers, whose legs carried you miles and miles to work in misery and ran to our rescue. It is on your shoulders that we stand today.
Secondly, we thank you. We appreciate you instilling the Word of God within us. We are thankful your sacrifices, your struggle and your steadfastness. You taught us that something worth anything is worth fighting for, and that fight and determination has carried us through the ages. That fight has gotten us, as a people, a right to vote, the right to the same education as the next person...and ancestors, let me tell you, that fight has gotten us A PRESIDENT. But, we know our fight is far from over; it has just begun. Hopefully, now, as a FAMILY, our race will be held more accountable. Our family will raise the bar through self-reliance and self-determination. We will follow your example and help our brother or sister in need, not shun them away from sheer selfishness.
Oh...elders and ancestors, don't think we don't owe you. We owe you for every tear you shed, every imprisonment you were subjected to, every lynching of your son or daughter. We owe you for going beyond being just a “nigger”; you were intelligent, courageous and self-confident. You were not only Harvard graduates, but you were mine workers. You were not only doctors and lawyers, but cooks and maids as well. YOU made it possible...and you didn't even know. YOU made it possible...without even asking anything in return. We owe you for setting a standard, and never lowering it, not even when we disappointed you.
We apologize, we thank you, we owe you...your long-suffering has NOT been forgotten.

ugh...

...fighting with my sinuses. Don't feel like doing anything, but the life of a student-athlete must continue. I need my nails and my hair done. I feel like a wretch. However, I am seeing my BEST friends from Maryland in about 3 days, I get my scholarship refund check back tomorrow...so this day is kinda like my purgatory. Once I'm over that Tuesday hump, it's all downhill from there. Plus I'm kinda looking forward to taking my Benadryl after practice. When it's hard to get sleep, a drug-induced one is welcomed and celebrated. Fighting with my recent breakup. But I will NOT let that situation control my attitude or how my day goes. okay, okay. I'll try my best not to.

complaining mood today, so I hope I am avoided by everyone...and Murphy's Law, this is when everyone is gonna be in my face. argh.

Just a Few Things I've Noticed...

It has recently been brought to my attention that the first impression is NOT always the best one. Someone could have been having a bad day, could've just broken up with their boyfriend/girlfriend, or even could've vomited five minutes ago, and I don't care who you are, an unexpected vomit session could ruin your day. A good friend of mine, whom I held in very high regard, just informed me that he almost shot someone over a scuff on the front of his truck and an unfriendly look in the club. This completely shattered my view of him. Take people's first impression of me: people have given me a variety of different answers when I ask them, but my favorite is "conceited bitch." Everyone has heard the Remy Ma single, "Conceited", where she boasts, "...and I look too good to be wearing this..." and other self-oriented, mundane foolishness. Well, I don't think that about myself. I don't look too good for my clothes; if that was the case I wouldn't have bought them...which leads me to my next question: do we really know ourselves enough to give a completely true first impression, short of, "Hi, my name is Bill, and I'm a narcissistic, pessimistic megalomaniac"?

Flowers Can Grow from Where Dirt Used to Be...

> So, I just broke up with my on-again, off-again boyfriend of four years...again, and I'm finally thinking with my head instead of my heart. Strangely, the advice came from someone I never would have imagined: an elderly male cop. I took off the promise ring he gave me for our four year anniversary, I threw away the souvenir Moet bottle from the same night...and realized I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't do the fights and the arguments. I couldn't do the crying-myself-to-sleep and the compromising-myself song and dance anymore. I am a witness that love and relationships will make people do stupid things. I loved this man; I cared for him. I washed his clothes. I cleaned up his vomit. I have driven to the ends of the earth in my Ford Focus...and back. I can't do it anymore. Don't get me wrong; this all sounds great. However, at the end of the day, my biggest fear is losing the one that was truly meant for me. Is this the man that I am meant to spend the rest of my life with? Is it my true destiny to fight for this relationship EVERY DAY tooth and nail? I don't want to. Life is complicated enough without adding an estranged chaotic mess of a partnership into the mix. The worst part is we're not even married. So, here I sit, questioning the eternal battle of heart and head: where do I go from here? Do I just call it quits and jump ship because there are other fish in the sea, or do I keep swimming? Do I really want to throw away four years of time, energy and money just to start over? Women have started over for years; hence Waiting to Exhale. I thought I'd found my oxygen. I feel like this has been a small eternity. These four years have tried my patience, stretched my money and given me migraines. I have burned pictures, cooked breakfast and spent an immeasurable amount of gas. So I guess the real question would be: HOW do I start over? How do women that have been in decade spanning relationships begin again? I wish I knew the secret. My heart has been ripped into shreds and I have no idea where that one last piece is. The shards are all over and someone has used the last of the glue. I'm an unraveled catastrophe. Ever since I was a young girl I have been planning my wedding and my dream groom. I thought I'd found him, but he had no plans of marrying me...ever. We signed gifts together, we had picnics on the beach...just about every romantic thing a couple under 25 can do. But I don't know if his past insecurities or a subconscious fear, but this man was NEVER going to marry me. I'm kind of glad he hadn't asked me; our marriage would be a disaster. He is jealous and possessive, and I am passive aggressive and controlling. As I sit here, I don't really know why we broke up. I mean, of course there is the fact that I called the police on him after he tried to steal my car. But the real, underlying reason....I'm unaware of. I'll be in therapy 10 years from now, single, wondering why I didn't end up with my high school sweetheart. We were perfect for each other: he's an English major and I'm majoring in mass communications with a minor in English. We both were athletes, we both love sushi, God was the cornerstone in our lives...we were Kimora Lee and Russell. However, like all rich, seemingly perfect couples, at the risk of sounding cliché, things aren't always what they seem. I don't have the 30 g's to shop till I drop to make myself happy, so...where to from here? Which way is up? How do I move the elusive mountain Usher sings about? Or the bigger question: do I want to?