Memorial Day Weekend Revelations

I’m back, but not so much refreshed…more like lazily spoiled. I saw freedom you guys, and it was “marvelous in our eyes”. I developed a new addiction: Ugly Betty. Yes, that will be added to the list. Dr. Pepper, being nosy, geeky men. That’s just a small peek of my list of obsessions. Yesterday this weird feeling of, I don’t know benevolence?, overtook me. I reminisced about my ex. I was shocked that I entertained non-homicidal thoughts about this man. Progress, I think. Eh, who knows.
I’ve made recent discoveries this weekend. All of them very personal. And yet, I’m still going to share them with you. Go figure.
Personal Revelations
1. I found out that being perky doesn’t go away with disuse. It only festers and then reveals itself in awkward and inappropriate situations. I try to be cool and nonchalant and it backfires on me. The person I’m fronting for says something totally cool, hits a nerve, or kicks over my soapbox and there I go…being Rachel all over the place. It’s annoying really.
2. I try too hard to form romantic attachments. Right now I’m trying to like this guy. But why am I trying to force this? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to force the guy into anything. But, rather, I’m trying to accelerate my feeling for this young man. Meanwhile the poor sap has no idea.
3. I’m a dreamer. This isn’t really a revelation but a coming-to-terms. I fall in love with the idea of the thing more so than reality. I have an ongoing fantasy of me wielding my fabulousness in various settings. I’m my own superhero.
4. Eating at/from home is totally doable, if you have food there. I’m lazy when it comes down to cooking most of the time. Don’t get me wrong I can cook…I mean I even look like I can cook or sing…whatever. But I have to have inspiration. I found out that if the food is easy to make, I don’t have a problem with cooking. Way to go me.
5. I feel personally responsible for the loneliness of my friends. This happens even when I’m there to have fun with them. I feel I should be able to rescue them out of depression.
6. Depression is contagious. Once a friend explained her reasons for loneliness, I bought into her reasoning. I went around moping for a few hours questioning myself too. Not good. I have to inject some life into my life.
7. My Harrison Ford boycott is over. I watched the latest installment in the Indiana Jones films. My only problem with Harrison Ford is that I don’t believe him. I can’t suspend my disbelief when I watch his movies with the exception of Star Wars and Indiana Jones films. This created a problem when the third Indiana Jones came out and there was no fourth riding on its coat tails. Harrison didn’t hang up his acting career, he continued on as if I had no say-so. But this late fourth installment is just a gentle acknowledgement to me…can we say delusional conceit?
8. My mouth has expired. I haven’t gotten a clear explanation for this since I own and having been using a toothbrush quite frequently since at least 1983. My teeth are betraying me one by one. Must be bad genes or something. Or all the sodas and sugary crap I eat. Who knows?
9. I over-think stuff. Every idea that I really like is mentally burned up by the time I finish with it. There’s no way to rewind the idea back to a workable solution. I always take it too far. Having to start over from scratch is exhausting.

Let’s face it, these are life-changing discoveries. To be honest, the real list doesn’t end there. But for the sake of time let’s just say that it does. I’m going to leave you with an audio/visual rendition of my current emotions.

And I wonder...

Ha! Hey all. That's right I said "all" not "y'all". Reporting from my desk at work. Today I ran across a rant from a co-worker. Her topic: Society's idealistic view of where we ought to be in life and our internalizing it. In other words, "Why haven't we gotten married?" and the people who ask us (including us).
As a 25 year single woman, I am considered in modern terms to be technically safe from the spinster category. I'm still "supposed" to be dating wildly and sowing random oats or is it dating randomly and sowing wild oats. Whatever! But give me five more years and people start to look at me sideways and speculate on my childbearing abilities. The sad thing is most women start to take this attitude themselves and some even stamp an expiration date on themselves. Not even always about kids but for getting married. I've talked to way too many women who say they will probably stay single because they are too picky. But when they quantify their wants it doesn't sound too unrealistic. To me anyway.
Then we try to play it off. Talking about getting ahead in our careers, as if we have to have something to show if we don't have a husband and kids. I guess we feel less womanly. But when did the definition of a woman include getting married and actually giving birth. Owning a uterus is a huge responsibility within itself. Just being a woman and then fulfilling all the requirements that society puts upon us is too much for me.
These feelings maybe the reason for the fixation on all these bridal/wedding shows. What about the magazines like Brides? I can tell you 89.64% of the readers are not engaged or even in a serious enough relationship to even dream of getting married. Its a sad fact but its true (according to me). I have surrendered to this many a time. I've even joked that if I don't get married by 30 that I will just have a bachelorette party, shower and reception with no groom in sight. ~Sigh.~ It's hard not to feel the pressure of all those fairy tales not coming true. I wonder if I'll ever get married.
The only other option right now for me is bitterness. And an absurd theory that everyone already married has HUGE problems. Of course you can't have marriage with no problems. But its not as bad as I make everyone else's marriage out to be. Take for instance my dream from Sunday night. (blur blur blur) Some random dude pulls up in my drive way and starts tinkering on the side of my house. Then Jay-Z pulls up behind him. The dude gives him an alibi because Hov needs something to tell Beyonce when he gets home.(blur blur blur) I hate that I had to find out Jay-Z is cheating on his wife that way! And no, just because its a dream doesn't mean I won't believe it as fact. "I ain't no psychic, but don't push me."
Enjoy this if you can look at his face, right now I can't (The Neptunes(Pharrell) make this palatable).

Hurrumph! bye yall ;).

Rx

I had so many topics I was gonna write about today but something topped them all. A breath of Fresh air.
I have found that Black people in general (oh, here we go again) have specific requirements for themselves and the things they do to qualify as Black. Like music for instance, if I listen to Fiest--that's not Black people music. Yeah, as bogus as that is that is ingrained in our social psyche as a whole, whether we admit it or not. But I had the privelege of going to a High School that was alternative. It seemed that although this school was 95% Black, it gathered the 3% of Black students in Birmingham that were enlightened enough to think beyond just the Black and White of everyone and everything. I reveled in this, being able to talk to other kids who didn't think in terms of "Black people music" and "White people music". I was always the weird kid until I got there, and I found out they all were the weird kids before they got to Ramsay too. I'm not saying we all became colorless but we stopped revoking people's BLACK CARD for listening to another kind of music other than Hip Hop or Rap. Or for having a different style of dress...of life.
Slowly but surely us Black people have been chipping away at the stereotypes that surround us, our style, our music. Look at what Pharrell and Kanye have been doing...Andre 3000, Gnarles Barkley. Gradually its happening whether it is retro, bohemian (which sometimes veers on the side of Afro-centricism), rock or even country.

Well I was on Dork magazine today and found this:


Awesome! The first step toward this was Darius and Nina in Love Jones. This movie was set in Chicago (known for its creative centers). They were a Black couple (Darius: writer/poet and Nina: photographer) that let their love for culture and the arts bring them together. They also communicated through creative channels. They didn't step outside of the Black people stereotype though. They just kinda broadened it on the Afro-Centric/Bohemian end. But Medicine for Melancholy is a new spin.
The movie is set in San Francisco (you got your artsy urban backdrop). Two black urbanites share the same interests in Indie-Rock music, bike riding and other non-tradional motifs. Plus there is a great soundtrack.
I'm excited! Here's what Dork magazine had to say about it...

Film. Medicine for Melancholy: Medicine for Melancholy is an anomaly. It’s a story about two San Francisco hipsters and the Sunday they spend together after having a one-night-stand. They ride fixed-gear bikes, smoke a joint, visit a museum, go dancing at an indie-rock club, and buy late night tacos. They also happen to be black. Gasp!
Like it or not, a monolithic image of blackness pervades in popular culture. Any deviation from this is deemed inauthentic and unmarketable. This is not a subtextual issue for the film but a theme it tackles head-on. The duo’s affinity for indie-culture has left them isolated in a rapidly gentrifying city that is only seven percent black. Meeting each other seems to bring their mutual identity crisis to light. Their affection for each other is visceral, - they both realize, without actually saying it, that they belong together. Micah (the guy) wants to go with this gut feeling, while Jo (the girl) seems a bit reticent. Here’s what director, Barry Jenkins has to say about the film: “In this meek story of a random encounter, the film explores the process of negotiating one’s identity by illustrating how the effects of gentrification make it virtually impossible for minority urbanites to just be.”

I don't know why I thought getting a new body would be painless. I did an ab class yesterday at the gym. I flubbed on some of the moves but mostly I did everything. At the end of the class I had a most STUPENDOUS wedgie. But other than that, I survived. I was told to expect soreness in the morning. Morning came and I felt good. No pain. At 2:12 p.m. it hit. What an unusual time for my body to admit it is suffering. I'm so sore right now that I think I must have left a piece of myself on that mat. What did I think was going to happen, I'd escape this, I dunno, I must have thought I was a superhero or something. I mean I know all the theory behind exercise. You are getting your heart rate up and tearing your muscles so that they can heal again, but stronger next time. Ha! Tell that to the back of my neck, my shoulders and my thighs. I'm not a throbbing sack of humanness though, so I guess I will do it again. Tonight I'm just doing about 45 mins of cardio. I want to let my body know that I mean bid-ness!

Ta Ta!

Danny Glover fears

Recent happenings have exacerbated my Danny Glover fears. I was at Buffalo Wild Wings and a movie came on, we couldn't figure out what it was. Danny Glover had these cream/gray pants on with suspenders. But he had hungry booty syndrome, that man has a long crack y'all. No joke, he kept lunging and running but the pants kept their same place, right in the crack. Sigh, needless to say I couldn't watch it anymore. But this episode reminded me of this awful dream where me and Danny Glover were...let's just say we shared a scary moment. Y'all that was one of my worst nightmares that I can still remember (besides the D'Angelo one where his mouth was full of Taco Bell meat, BUT I digress). Anyway, today I just noticed that a friend had Danny Glover as one of his celebrity look alikes. No way does this guy look like Danny Glover and believe you me, I mentioned the long crack thing. Oh well, I guess everyone else isn't adamant about this kinda stuff just. Well, me and Bernie Mac as the racist cop on Friday...

"I hate you black bastards, you *stink*! I hate your black skin. I hate your black pants. I hate black pepper. I hate black keys on a piano. I hate my gums, because they're black. I hate Whoopi Goldberg's *lips*. I hate the back of Forrest Whittaker's neck. Huh? Most of all, I hate that black-a** Wesley Snipes. "

Well I don't let it get under my skin like him but you get the picture. LOL. Does anyone have a celebrity nightmare? I am not the only crazy one...c'mon. You don't have nightmares? Watch this.

Pulchritudinous

Yeah I said it. Beauty is what I enjoy and want for myself. Its just getting up and doing something about it. I have all these ideas about the type of style I want to have, cultivate and display and then people do it before I can get to it. All I can do then is appreciate their ability to follow through. That takes talent and guts. Take Janelle Monae for instance. I've been dreaming of doing this for a while. She's like Afrocentric Bohemiaism meets Preppy Rockabilly...when you hear that you probably think, "how?" Well as you see in the picture, it works. She has a Lauryn Hill as a 50's Rockstar kinda vibe that I love. Enjoy this video one has to admit that the girl is talented.

Rainy day

I'm mopey right now for some reason. I'm not usually like this so I'm sure I'll get outta my funk. I may have found a gym buddy, YAY!, that would definitely cheer me up. There's nothing like getting on an butterfly weight machine in front of about five strange men to fill you with self consciousness. I'm still acclaimating to sweating profusely in front of strangers too. It may take a minute but I'm determined.

Even though it is totally ugly outside now at least we can enjoy this:

Not much to say today but

Maybe Tomorrow

Slut Puppies Unite

Okay, by a show of hands how many of yall are readers of Cosmopolitan? Okay keep them up. How many of you actually practice the techniques in said magazine. How come all the hands went down? Yeah, exactly. I admit it I read this magazine, and have done so since I was about 10 years old. Do I ever use anything out of this book? NO WAY! Will I ever? Maybe, but that's besides the point! What I mean to say is that Cosmo has cultivated a culture of Slut puppism. Its okay to get down and dirty if its for the sake of pleasuring yourself or your man...SCREECH! Hold on. They make it sound so normal to do all of the sex secrets and tricks. And now every other issue is the sexy issue or the bedside astrologer. Way to combine fornication and astrology!! Wow.

Now, I'm not going to be a hypocrite because I can tell you right now that I'm looking at the latest issue and taking the quiz in the back called "Do you send out sex vibes?" But I'm just saying that we all have to watch it. Because we get desensitized to things very quickly and start to believe that its normal to do certain things or that its expected of us to go above and beyond what is comfortable for us on a personal level. Don't get sucked into the sexual media trap okay, ladies? Tongues aren't supposed to go there! that's what that weird taste in your mouth is.

P.S. According to the quiz results: I am a playful provocateur, meaning that I "realize that lively conversation is key to getting the right men to their melting points." Umm, do I really want to get the right man to his melting point? What will I do with all the man-goo? Gross, well toodles.