"pick pockets of our goodwill"

hollywood can sleep well tonight.

so, i abandoned the email...technically, i "save draft"-ed it. i figured if it was that hard, then it's too soon. lord knows, i don't need one more thing to regret.

lame

i am so fucking lame. i'm sitting here trying to write this email and it is slow fucking going.

in all honesty, it's way too soon to be trying to contact this person, but i know if too much time lapses, and he falls out of my routine, that it'll be twice as hard to get it back. so, i'm trying. i'm trying to salvage a friendship and i can't get this stupid email right. it just sounds so detached and cold. i'm going for "guarded," but it's sort of abrupt. maybe it's because i'm so used to speaking freely with him, that all of these walls are making it very difficult. it's like a path through the woods on your way home; you know it by heart, every dip, every branch, every turn. now, it's like my home is a war zone and the path leading me there is lined with land mines. i still know the way by heart, but i have to walk gingerly. it's all rather exhausting.

this email is lame. really, it's merely indicative of the entire situation, so, in a way, it's fitting that it sucks. i want to keep a moderate amount of contact, but i don't really want to engage in a conversation just yet. i don't want to give the impression that everything is fine and i don't want to give him false hope that we will be ok, when i'm undecided about whether or not i'll see him again. how do you toe that line?

the embarrassing thing is that the damn thing is only 4 lines long and the only thing i want to say is that i miss him. lame.

my poor heart

i just looked at myself in the mirror and i'm a mess. my mascara is smeared so much i look like The Crow. i've been crying so long my head and heart hurt. the shameful thing is that it's not about a boy, it's about a show. i just watched the final part of a three part event on Grey's Anatomy and was weeping like a child. i was a mess last week, but tonight...oh, my god, tonight.

i got home from work at 10:30pm and immediately took off my shoes and pants and plopped myself in the middle of the floor of my living room floor. for the next hour i didn't move. i never made it to the couch and i totally forgot i was hungry. i turned on the tv and was hooked. i won't bore anyone with the details, but, essentially, Meredith had to decide she wanted to live. the part that wrecked me was that the reason she decided to fight to live was because of Derek. not just that they loved each other and all of that, it was what Denny said. he said that it was rare to find someone like him who was a talented, good man who loves her and an optimist, despite everything he sees working in a hospital. he said the reason she needed to live was that if she died it would forever change him.

uh, cue the waterworks. the scene and all that followed had me sobbing. not just the lone tear streaking down my face. i mean full on heaving chest, audible sobs. by the time it was over, my cheeks were raw and my chest was soaked. i think the last time i cried that hard at TV was ...oh, well, the Notebook, but i'm genetically predisposed --as a woman-- to weep at that movie, but before that...The English Patient. i watched in my downstairs back home and cried all through the credits and after the screen was blank. i pretty much cried myself to sleep on that one. tonight wasn't that rough, but it was pretty fucking close.

of course, there's all of the connections with Shawn and then this past thing, but even if my life had been a basket full of roses, i still would've been a mess. i'm a sensitive soul, what can i say?

what a good fucking show.

This Man Obviously Has Substance Abuse Problems And No Capacity To Love vs. But You Love Him!

February 14, 2007 | Issue 43•07

Point

This Man Obviously Has Substance Abuse Problems And No Capacity To Love

By Your Brain

It is time to face facts: Your boyfriend has nothing to offer you. He is a mean drunk, a liar, a cheater, and an emotional drain. He contributes nothing to your life but added stress and self-doubt. You have been together five months and he wants to move in, but never once has he said "I love you," and he never even refers to you as his girlfriend. Clearly, he only wants to live with you because he is two months behind in his rent and is about to get evicted.

Stop making excuses for him. He cannot hold down a job because he is lazy, not because the jobs don't suit his talents or because he's making some kind of shrewd career move. What could possibly be redeemable about someone who steals money out of his girlfriend's purse to buy coke, and doesn't deny it or apologize when she calls him on it?

You must recognize his manipulative behavior and not mistake it for love or compassion. When you confront him with very reasonable concerns, he tries to cow you with guilt or anger. It is not normal, it is not healthy, and it happens time and again.

Your friends, coworkers, parents, brother, and sister all agree that he does not treat you well, that he is irresponsible, that he is mean and unpleasant. They simply cannot all be wrong.

Your worry and pain far outweigh the good times you have enjoyed. Even sex is a chore with him. He tries to put the blame on you by saying you "did it all wrong" or he "always has to do all the work," but he only says that to mask his own physical inadequacy and excuse his selfishness. And do not defend him by bringing up the mix CD he gave you four months ago. It was one cliché gesture and they were all songs he liked anyway.

There is no reason to continue being with someone who exploits your good nature and saps your self-confidence. You must break it off with him immediately. Period.

Do not let him talk you out of it this time.

---

Counterpoint

But You Love Him!

By Your Heart

None of that other stuff should matter when you love somebody. What, you're going to abandon someone who's battling an uncontrollable addiction—right when he needs you the most? Maybe you're the one who's being selfish.

You haven't been working at it enough. Relationships are never easy. Don't be a quitter. If you keep on loving him no matter what, the chance this will work out can only improve! He'll finally realize how much he's been taking you for granted. He'll get a job, buy you a ring, and it'll be true love at last. It's going to be so awesome!

Just think of how cute your babies will be!

He can't be a drug addict forever. People change and grow over time. They do. I really believe it. But if you leave him now, he won't, and it will be all your fault. What he needs the most is a really supportive girlfriend who will help him get out of his $30,000 debt so he can record his demo and get steady DJ work again. He is going to be so appreciative. Maybe he'll write a song about you!

If your family and friends won't accept your boyfriend, they probably aren't real friends or are just jealous. Heck, Mom and Dad never have anything nice to say about your boyfriends anyhow. Don't reject him like everyone else has. Just focus on your relationship. In time, everyone will realize how wrong they've been.

He's a very smart, creative, unique guy, you know. Remember when he made you that mix CD? That was so romantic! Don't be so egotistical that you can't take a little criticism from him. Instead, you should thank him. True, he's not all sappy and lovey-dovey. But you see something past that gruff exterior that no one else can!

Remember how depressed he was after the first time you forgave him for cheating? He didn't talk to you for weeks. Well, he learned his lesson. I have a feeling that the bumps in the road are behind you. The heart has a gift for knowing what the brain doesn't.

Why throw this great thing away? I don't like saying this, but if you dump him, you do run the risk of never being with someone again. It could happen. And you remember how much it sucks to be single. So count your blessings.

Whatever you do, don't let go! Every long-term relationship has its ups and downs. If you really love him, you've got to be in it for the long haul. That's what real love is all about.

auntie april

i'm liking this gig more and more. i'm not ready for kids myself, but i still get to shop for them, make them happy, and get an idea of what's in store for me. it's a good look.

i was in Target today and, on a whim, found myself picking out baby clothes for my sister's baby shower and singing "Baby Love" by Diana Ross and the Supremes. i ended up with over $50 worth of clothes. it was adorable. if i did that on a whim, imagine what i'll intentionally do. one thing is for sure, this little girl is going to want for nothing with this family. we're crazy and trying and you may need to take us in doses, but when you're in it, there's a lot of love surrounding you.

i'm getting really excited. i'm also excited because my other niece is turning 5 in a few weeks, and it's so much fun shopping for her. we had some really great moments together at Schroon this past nov.; my favorite was stargazing. i was sitting in a chair, with her on my lap, and a blanket snuggling us in as we looked up, on a pitch black night, at perfectly lit stars in the middle of the Adirondacks. the best was her doing her not so quiet whisper pointing out stars. she loved it. once i got home, i promptly sent her my solar system mobile. i'm not sure what i'm going to get her this time, but i want it to be good.

i'm going to try to make it to IL for Emily's birthday party. it's the same weekend as Zaina's baby shower, so i should be able to do one on Sat. and the other on Sun. it's going to be so cool seeing everyone in my family, save for Aasim, Olga, Sloan, and Larry in the same weekend.

i've got a good family. sometimes they hurt my feelings and piss me the hell off, but i wouldn't trade 'em.

honkytown strikes again

i'm at work today and the size of the "African American History Month" table is just embarrassing. oh, i'm sorry, it's a table and an endcap. the table is a glorified night stand. it's small enough that i can grab either side. yea, it's unacceptable. i mentioned that it was a bit shameful last week, but was ignored. i came into work today and it bothered me all over again. it's just insulting. i mean, if you're not going to do it well, don't do it at all. it's a token table of blackness. so, this morning i mentioned it to my assistant manager to which he replied, "how do you think we feel? for gay [week?month? i don't remember] we only get an endcap." i looked at him and said, "yea, but we were enslaved." funny how that never seems to lose it potency. so, he told me to talk to the store manager...and i did.

i went into her office and ask, "what's up with the blackness?" i told her what i thought of it and that --which is true-- this weekend an older black lady came in looking for our table and found it wanting in girth and variety and left quite annoyed. my manager told me if i could fill up a table that i had free reign. she and i walked out to the table and we're looking it over and i'm telling her what i plan to do, at which point she picks up Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man and wonders out loud what it's doing there...as though in the wrong place. i blankly stare at her and say, "um, because it's written by Ralph Ellison." she said, "oh, is he black?" i took a deep breath, shook my head, and said, "oh [her name], not only is he a black author, but the book is about the invisibility of blacks in white America. yea, i'm gonna need another table."

what made it so funny was that it felt like i was being punk'd. it felt like any minute Ashton was going to come running around from the mystery section laughing. she couldn't have chosen a more glaring example of a) her ignorance and b) the necessity for black history month if it was scripted. the best part is that, in this area, white people are so proud of their liberalism that they are shamed more than most when faced with their own racism and ignorance. that was not an example of racism, but it was ignorance. no, the racism is the next story.

anyway, the way this story ends is with me and my pretty, expanded table of Blackness. i made sure i showed every manager and had them marvel at the beauty of the Blackness. oh, and i'm making my managers a list of important black authors and titles to know. for the love of Christ, it's Ralph Ellison. so, a packet is about to come their way.

now, for the racism:

there's this girl, Erica, i work with. she nice enough and she's cool...in theory. in practice, she's a bit abrasive and crude. she's white and has a mixed son. i give her props, because she doesn't do the standard "white girl with black dick" gig and try to act black. she's trying to get educated in black culture primarily to raise a strong black man. i respect that. however, sometimes she starts to fall into that "wanna be down" pitfall and i have to check her...hard. i'm very lenient with white stupidity...i'd be the angriest girl in the world if i didn't...but for all of the books and friends of color, she just does some white-ass shit. two things that black people just don't do: 1) call each other "bitch" unless earrings and nails are coming off and you're about to throw down and 2) talk about someone's mom. she does this thing where she thinks it's funny to respond to anything with, "your moms." so, when i'm talking about Paris Hilton and say, "man, if ever there was a murder victim," she --having only just arrived to the conversation-- foolishly says, "your moms." yea, i shut that shit down quick.

so, today. i couldn't find 9 copies of Cornell West's Race Matters. i looked everywhere. i looked in place it didn't even make sense to look, like biography. nothing. nowhere. i even got other people involved in my search, she was one of them. after exhausting every logical place she says, "i know this is going to seem fucked up, but did you check True Crime." yea. next she'll tell me Barak Obama looks "clean." this is why black people hate white people. i looked at her and said, "that's just ridiculous," but --as Andrea pointed out, which is true-- it shows where white people's heads still are. really? Cornell West in True Crime? because all black people are criminals? later on Erica said, "i know it was far-fetched, but i was trying to help." i responded, "it was far-fetched bordering offensive." gotta shut that shit down quick.

today has been an endurance test in stupid cracker antics. fucking Honkytown.

"make me wanna holla/the way they do my life."

final thought before bed

is "just friends" such a super bad thing?

just because he doesn't want to be with me doesn't mean he's not good for me and we wouldn't make great friends. is that such a bad thing? is it possible? am i fooling myself? am i getting comfortable with the idea of just friends simply to be near him?

of course, news of my rejection is rippling throughout my family...which is awesome. i think the single best response i got was from my big head, Uncle Darryl, who said, "where's he live? i'm gonna shoot him. nobody breaks my baby's heart." that was excellent. mostly, i've gotten "he's not good enough" talk. i appreciate people talking shit about him to make me feel better, but the truth is that i'm not mad at him. i don't think he--necessarily--led me on. i think he capitalized on my affection for him, but i don't think it was malicious. so, i'm not angry with him. i'm hurt and embarrassed, but my decision to not see him again isn't about revenge or anger, it's about distance. it's self-preservation. i think his reasons for not dating me are pretty solid. i still think that we could've had something fantastic, even if it blazed fiercely for only a little while.

i can't tell you how many times people have asked me if i think he's going to call or want to "see how long it takes him" to contact me. my response to everyone is why. why would he? the ball is squarely in my court. he knows where i stand. i know where he stands. i know he wants me in his life, so it's my decision whether or not i can live with the terms. why would he contact me? to see if i'm ok? if there's one thing i hate the most, it's a hero complex. luke taught me that shit. you can not be the breaker and the builder of me. you can't be both. you can't hurt and heal me. sometimes you just have to be the bad guy. anything less gets confusing. in any case, he and i are no where near the fiasco point that was luke. so, i expect, at some point, he'll contact me, but this isn't some sort of battle of wills and i'm not staying away from him to punish him, because my decisions now are no longer about him. i've thought of little else but him for two years, now. it's me time.

i can't really see a reason we wouldn't, in the end, be friends. for whatever reason, he's good for me. yes, i love him. yes, i'll always love him. i just need to figure out a way to turn that into the way i love Felipe or David or Rec. i love those men. do i want to be with them, no. so, i just need to figure out a way of steering this guy in that direction. but, i'm not going to break him down in my eyes to make myself feel better. and, i'm not going to belittle our connection to save face. am i being almost surreally reasonable? yes. you must also understand that this is me, academically, assessing the situation. emotionally, i'm all torn up, but stuck. so, we'll see how this plays out.

all i know is that i've wasted a lot of my understanding and affection on some supremely unworthy assholes. so, this sounds like me being a chump for yet another man, but i think he's worth it. i think there are people who you are destined to know. i remember talking with this woman once and she was spouting some new age mumbo jumbo about finding people who "are part of your tribe." i think she has a point. i think there are those kindred spirit people. those people who fit. i think there are simply those people that belong to you and you to them. maybe it's the whole "birds of a feather" thing, but i think there are some people who are just fit and feel like home.

much like andrea. i have no doubt that andrea and i were destined to be friends. lately we've marveled that we didn't meet until high school seeing as how we had so many people in common growing up. it seems so unlikely in town like Columbia and her being friends with my cousins (at that time) and us being at their house all of the time growing up that we didn't meet until i was 16. i think we were always meant to meet, i just think we weren't ready for each other yet. who i was before i met before her, what i was going through when i met her, and who i ended up being are such different people. i think who i was before my high school crisis she would've hated and i would've thought she was just scary. i think the stars had to align just so for us to be as good of friends as we are now. the proof of that was our post graduation fallout. we didn't talk for 3 years, but when we finally came back together, we were still in sync...and i think that's amazing. so, she was someone who was meant to walk through life with me. hell, at this point, i can't shake her.

i said all of that to say this: he makes sense to me. i totally recognize that...well, i'm a fool--and you love me...i still love him tremendously and don't want to let him go. i also know i will if i can't sort this out. however, i will be the sorrier if i hastily cut him out of my life.

i feel like i'm writing our story. i have the title, the first couple of chapters, and i know how we'll end, i just don't know how we'll get there.

remember when i had that dream about the spaghetti? well, it almost came true.

i was making chicken and broccoli alfredo last night and almost set myself on fire. in my dream, it was intentional, but last night was completely by accident. i really like thick spaghetti-- fettuccini sometimes doesn't boil evenly and few things are worse than partially cooked pasta-- so i was cooking that and one of the noodles fell out and landed on the burner. the noodle was burning and smoking up the place, but i don't notice because i was trying to dice up the chicken and work out the broccoli. next thing i knew the smoke detector was going off. i thought it was being overly sensitive and overreacting over the boiling water and the steam. i look up and realize my kitchen was quickly filling with smoke and i start to choke. i opened the windows and aired the place out, but it was completely fucked up. here i am, a few days earlier dreaming about dying by setting fire to my place with spaghetti and here i've gone and almost done it. that's fucked up.

now, if only i could hone my premonitory skills toward lottery numbers.

blood

i don't think my sister likes me very much, i've decided. i mean, i know she loves me in the way that you love your family, but i don't think she likes me. we've never been each others confidante or anything, but i was sort of hoping that her pregnancy would bring us closer. i offered to photograph the progress and offered to come to VA if she wanted to do baby shower there. i don't know. i guess i assumed that being her sister and all that i'd be doing her baby shower. i thought that that's what the sister does. she said no to the pictures...which was fine, because she said she's not photogenic. i completely sympathize. i'm cute, but you'd never know it from my pics, so i respected that.

anyway, i'm talking with my mom tonight and she told me that my sister wanted to have the baby shower in STL, since most of her friends live there. i heard she might want to do that and figured it made sense, thinking her friends were throwing her party. come to find out that she's asked our sister-in-law to do it. i mean, laural and i have had our problems, but i love her just the same, so my outrage has nothing to do with her. i problem has to do with my sister. i mean, it's kind of insulting that she would ask her sister-in-law over her own sister. if it were her friend doing it, i wouldn't have a problem with it. i mean, her friends obviously know her better and, when i have a baby, my friends will be the ones to do it. however, after friends, family comes next. clearly, i rank lower than laural in zaina's book, which, quite frankly, hurts my feelings.

i thought my sister was just a little distant, but i never really took it personally, because she's like that with everyone. this...i don't know, this is different. so, i've come to the conclusion that my sister just doesn't like me. again, i know she loves me because i'm family, but i think, if she had the choice of sisters, she wouldn't choose me...and clearly didn't. i understand that i'm in MA and laural's in chicago and therefore closer to STL, but at least call me and allow me to decline, or tell me yourself. don't have me find out that i'm not going to be involved in the celebration of my own niece second hand. that's just tacky.

i'm so tired of not being wanted.

my new boyfriend

now that he got rid of that albatross Alanis...we're in the love. how do i stay sane with a hollywood boyfriend? as long as i don't catch anything, his exploits don't end up in the tabloids, and i have full access we'll have no problems. that's not really a problem, because his devotion to me is legendary.

get Wayne Brady on her ass

seriously, enough.

black people have enough to contend with without people like her trying to create a ridiculous divide merely to jump-start a literary career. i think my biggest problem with her is not her actual view. i think there's a bit of validity to it. true, someone who is first generation doesn't have a lot of the historical familial baggage. however, that doesn't mean that they're not black. it doesn't mean that they haven't experienced the same social and economic hardships as Black Americans. i think what unites black people is maybe 30% history. i think what really unites us is a current shared cultural experience.

my problem with her comes with not keeping that shit in-house. how we --as black people--relate to other blacks is an internal debate. to the rest of the world, it doesn't matter what your lineage is--you're just black. oh, you may have "something in you," but no one is really making a large distinction between bi-racial, sub-saharan, caribbean, etc. so why publicly try to divide and segregate your own people?

it reminds me of college. of course, everyone goes through identity issues when they hit college...no matter what color you are. i was no different. i chose to drop the bi-racial stuff and just be black. it has absolutely nothing to do with how i identify. i claim and am proud of all aspects of my heritage --i'm particularly fond of the Dutch part...it has a nice touch of irony to it-- but i made the decision for two reasons: 1) it keeps things moving. i don't want to, and shouldn't have to, divulge my entire life story just to satisfy curiosity. just being black is easier. if you want to know more, especially when i'm rockin' the curls, i'll be happy to oblige, but i'm a very private person and that keeps nonsense at bay. more importantly, 2) that's how the world sees me anyway. it's not a matter of me caving to the ignorance of the world, but if i'm going to be mistreated or stigmatized, i want the good with the bad. i'm not going to segregate myself from the main people who understand me best. plus, i dig being black. there's a culture, style, and swagger i love. there's a natural cool that comes with being black; it's in the stride of our walk and the rhythm of our talk. it's the dap we all know; the universal language everyone can see, but few can execute.

hell, why do you think so many people try to be black? tanning salons, lip injections, volumizing shampoo, and low rise jeans all strive for what? darker skin, fully lips, thicker hair, and bigger asses... all of which we have naturally.

so, she should be celebrating and respecting all aspects of our people and the many ways we are beautiful instead of trying to tear us apart. i have no idea what her other politics are and haven't read her book, so she may make total sense in a great number of other realms. however, in this one...don't make me choke a bitch.

i had this dream last night that i was about to set my apartment on fire. i had put a strand of spaghetti on the burner and turned it on hi. i sat there for a minute watching the fire spread to my curtains. i went into the other room and heard my IM go off. it was Ryan. i walked over to see what he said and it read something like, "i'm so glad you're around. you're the only person who makes me feel better." or something like that. so, there i am standing in the middle of the room with my life burning down around me rethinking the whole thing. i went back into the kitchen, put the fire out, and sat down to chat.

that was really weird. i'm not suicidal...though this dream may suggest otherwise. things suck right now, but i know what the overwhelming drive to die feels like. i know what looking at a straight razor through tear blurred eyes rationalizing to yourself that nothing can hurt more than this is like. i'm not that. this sucks balls, to be sure, but even in my darkest moment i don't feel like that.

it was just a strange dream. is spaghetti even flammable?

true true

black history month...get familiar

Little Known Facts:

#31: the banjo originated in Africa and up until the 1800s was considered an instrument only played by blacks.

#33: Jack Johnson patented the wrench on April 18, 1922

#42: McKinley Morganfield a.k.a. "Muddy Waters" was considered the "Father of Chicago Blues" and the Rolling Stones named themselves after his 1950's song.

#48: The "306" group was a club that provided support for African-American artists during the 1940s. Founded by artists Charles Alston at 306 W.141 st in Harlem, it served as a meeting place for the likes of Langston Hughes, Jacob Lawrence, Romare Bearden, and Augusta Savage.

#56: Cathay Williams was the first and only known woman Buffalo soldier and posed as a man (Williams Cathay) to enlist in 1866.

"You can't separate peace from freedom, because no one can be at peace unless he has his freedom." -Malcom X

incog-negro

everyone can calm down. i'm not drowning in a bottle of Jack twiddling a straight razor. i'm fine...well, i'm not fine, but i just need to roll reclusive right now. you know my steez. i just don't have much to say, and i don't do pity.

"i won't put on my pity party dress with the special ribbon in my pity ponytail."

however, when i do resurface, i will take Massandje up on her "fuck the world, don't ask me for shit...April get your swerve on" weekend offer; but that won't be for awhile. until then....