Congrats are in order....

I'M ENGAGED!

I'm very much in love with my wonderful fiancee. How did this happen when I never blogged about him? Well...that was the plan. This year, I finally learned some discretion when blogging , and look at the beautiful results. (Um, that ain't us to the left.)

I really don't have time to make one of my usually long posts because we're in the middle of moving in together. (NOTE: I drove a big old Chevy truck to move my first load and was so HAPPY the whole time I was driving. No one else wanted to drive all of that heavy duty metal. Hence, I haven't given up on the idea of truck driving.) Shacking up was never in my plans, but life doesn't always go according to plan. I've always heard that if you really want to make God laugh, then tell him your plans.

I wonder what will happen on the kids front because I've told people for the longest that I don't want kids.

Shredded Papaya + _____ = who the hell knew that???

These papayas make me wish I was in another environment involving a beach, cocktails, and my man with Christmas songs playing on a small radio.

Instead of snuggling with my sweetie on Christmas Eve, I actually wound up hanging out with my brother, NOPI. His pregnant girlfriend was helping her mother with Christmas cooking and wasn't leavng the house at that point. So, in a not so completely odd move, NOPI invites me to an "Asian birthday party" with one of his homeboy's friends.

"Everybody's cool," NOPI assures me. "If you're cool, then everyone's cool with you."

I had nothing else I was doing, so I rolled out with NOPI. I hadn't been on the passenger side of his driving skills in a while, and I forgot THE most critical and salient rule of riding with NOPI: don't look up or out. The second you look up, he's pulling one of his moves, and you're finding anything to hold on to that'll keep you safely upright and that scream in your lungs. He knows what he's doing. The only major accident he's had lately was because his passenger said, "WHOA!" for no reason, and NOPI was hit in the side.

We get to extreme south Atlanta and find a standard recently-built apartment complex with several Asians hanging out around a grill on the bottom patio. There's more people inside just chilling. For all I know, more than one of them might be 30, but everyone looked between 18 and 26. I was probably wrong, just like most folks are wrong about my age. I just decided to fit in and just have a cool time.

I was shy like I normally am in the beginning because I'm soaking in the atmosphere. Like NOPI said, everyone was cool and welcoming. They made sure we had enough to eat and drink. Even the birthday boy was grilling all kinds of meat awaiting his 30th birthday on the 25th. I still envy that dude's Farrah Fawcett tresses that reached past his shoulders.

Eventually, I was offered a He.ineken. I've had it before and did not appreciate the watery taste. Who da hayle likes that stuff? Dude was insistent, but I politely declined. Then, he offered St. Pauli Girl. My mind starts working and asks where is the soda? I don't have to get drunk because it's a party. But that inner social butterfly in the cocoon eeks out, "Why the hell not?" It's Chrimmah, and I'm with some friendly Asians that seem to mostly be from Laos (that's what NOPI thinks). That one bottle was delicious and hit the spot. Somewhat sweet but definitely has a bite to it. That says a lot for a non-beer drinker to be all excited about it. I now have a new beer to imbibe in! That and Icehouse.

Someone insisted on offering weed, but that's not my style at all. Besides, I've smelled weed in the past.... That was some special Rastafarian superstar marijuana that I'd imagine a group of Rastas might share in the spirit of Kwanzaa because they don't celebrate no fake Christmas holiday. I politely declined and assured my new friend, "I need to keep my job on Wednesday." Come to find out, this dude owns a body shop. No random testing for him, and that's good for him.

But everyone and everything was so cool. Even the little kids were adorable and running between the kids' room and the living room. It really was all love, and I think I'd hang with them again.

12 AM comes while Birthday Boy is grilling, and we all wish him a Happy 30th Birthday. Then we wish each other a Merry Christmas. No gift exchange. No carols. But I did assure Birthday Boy that 30 will be the best year yet. It will make you forget how great you thought 25 or 20 was.


Unless they break out the shredded papaya.

According to templeofthai.com, "Green papaya has a very mild, almost bland, taste, but it is the medium through which robust flavor ingredients take body and form. It picks up the hot, sour, sweet and salty flavors, giving them a unique crisp and chewy texture unlike that of any other vegetable. When made into salad, you wouldn't know that it was mild and timid; you remember it only as bold and spicy." How fine and dandy. Even more culinary delights. Now, the fried rice dish with the pork, fresh herbs and maybe more papaya was off the chain!!! Will I ever find that in a Chinese restaurant? Probably not.

But the papaya salad... After mixing the shreds will all kinds of seasonings using a mortar and pestle...

...

...

It smelled like a menstrual cycle. Very. Heavy. Cycle. Where the kids better fend for themselves because Mama can't take these cramps and needs to just lay in bed with a heating pad waiting for the drugs to take effect. I can't make this stuff up. I actually believed it was me for a moment, but then I had to consider why am I just smelling this right now. I tried to be polite and eat the papaya salad on my plate because I could taste the boldness and spiciness. Then, I took a second bite, and all of the papaya salad returned to the plate before making it to the best spot for it: the trash. I'm all for diversity and new experiences, but I never would've imagined all five of my senses being flooded by such a "unique blend of flavors".

It's Christmas Time In Hollis Queens!

Merry Chrimahannukwanzaakuh!!!

Almost everyone I know has to know most of the lyrics to this classic Chrimmah ditty from the legendary Run D.M.C.. It makes you readily identify with your own holiday experience as a black kid in the '80s. We didn't have chicken for years, but we always had collard greens seasoned with hamhocks and succulent mac and cheese that turned you into a pig because you had to have seconds and sometimes thirds. Well, times have evolved, and the greens might be seasoned with smoked pig tail (I swear you can find it, and it's healthier than a hamhock) or the ubiquitous smoked turkey wing. I've had cornish hen, but I far prefer ham any day.

But imagine my shock last night when my sweetie and I are driving, and "Christmas in Hollis" comes on the radio. I'm jamming, and I ask my foreign-born sweetie, "Do you know this Christmas rap song?" I'm not surprised when he listens for a second and quietly answers, "No." It's possible to not know this Christmas song when you're raised across the Atlantic Ocean, but I just know he knows all about the legendary Kings of Rap. "Well, this song is by Run D.M.C.. You know Run D.M.C.?" Sweetie processes the info and quietly replies, "No. I know Fifty Cent, Snoop Dogg..."

This shatters my world. Don't get me wrong. He's still my sweetie because we have exchanged "I love you" too many times to count. However, it blows my mind that he doesn't have the same passion for music that I have. It's almost impossible to comprehend that he doesn't recognize the names of Run DMC or Notorious BIG or the songs of 2Pac. If he doesn't know those minimums of hip hop history, I know we can't really get to deep into The Roots, Common, A Tribe Called Quest, or even OutKast. Grammy winning OutKast.

So, I'm taking this as a chance to teach my baby all about the great music that I know and love. It makes me cringe that music hasn't touched him the way that it has me. He has introduced me to some of his music...but not much because he likes this weird group called Europe with their 80s hit song, "The Final Countdown". It's from his childhood, so I can't hate on it. But the only reason I know this song is because of some cheesy car dealership commercial. Bless my baby's heart.

Then again, I can't stay frustrated because he's not completely frustrated with my messy bedroom. He was in shock to see how junky I am, but he's accepted that's me. If we're going to be together for the long haul, I have a lot of work to do, and sweetie has a lot of toleration and patience to exhibit. And we both have a lot of teaching to do. A lot.


Christmas In Hollis - Run-D.M.C. (HQ Audio)

Vick sentenced to 23 months for
dogfighting

RICHMOND, Virginia (CNN) --
Michael Vick, once one of the highest paid players in the National Football League, was sentenced to 23 months in prison for financing a dogfighting ring and helping to kill pit bulls that did not fight aggressively.

Vick's stunning downfall from NFL superstar to disgraced dogfighting defendant culminated Monday in a 90-minute sentencing hearing in federal court in Richmond, Virginia.

Vick was dressed in a black-and-white striped prison suit and apologized to his family and to the judge.

"You need to apologize also to the millions of young people who look up to you," U.S. District Judge Henry E. Hudson retorted.

"I am willing to deal with the consequences and accept responsibility for my actions," Vick continued, as about a dozen of his friends and family members looked on.

But Judge Hudson appeared to be unmoved. "I'm convinced it was not a momentary lack of judgment on your part. You were a full partner," he told Vick.

http://www.cnn.com/2007/US/law/12/10/vick.sentenced/index.html


I blasted Michael Vick when he first got in trouble because he was experiencing a clear example of bad decision-making. I swear "bad decision-making" must be the overall theme of 2007 that no one seems to escape. Hopefully we can shake that matter in '08.

At this point, there's really no matter of kicking him further. He's already down for the count while facing 23 months in prison - maybe less with good behavior. The man is a shining example of all that can go wrong with one bad decision leading to another and another in a cycle whose viciousness can rival a down and dirty dogfight ending in a mauled animal. Even as he's preparing to do his time, he'll have to face the very real possibility (not necessarily a likelihood) that he won't play in the NFL because no one wants a public relations nightmare because they signed a talented quarterback associated with a violent and disgusting "past-time" like dogfighting. Vick's got enough troubles, so he doesn't need me or anyone else riding him. He isn't at rock-bottom, but he's pretty far down.

Hopefully, he'll see this as a beginning instead of just an end. His life really can turn around from here. He doesn't have to have a place in history as the fastest-falling celebrity. Maybe he'll become a symbol of forgiveness, reflection, insightfulness, growing in your walk with God. Just maybe. There are thousands (probably millions) of people that strongly dislike him, but there's thousands that will support him. Not just as an athlete but maybe as a human being that slipped, fell short of God, but had the god sense God gave him to finally do right and PUSH (pray until something happens) forward.

So many of us should be able to see ourselves in this kind of parallel. I know I've made some bad moves in the past. Who says I'll be done making bad decisions? The bad decision may not be so widely broadcast, but I pray that any of us that makes a bad decision has a support system: Mom, Dad, any relatives, our spouse or lover, life partner, pee wee basketball coach, best friend from elementary school, the matronly church sister with the biggest hats. Anyone that can see past the mistake and bad decision and stand by you.

P.S. I tried to find an image for redemption, forgiveness, faithfulness, regret, etc. Nothing quite worked - not even a cross (because what if Vick finds Buddhism, Judaism, or Islam to be his religious foundation...?).

That b**** ain't got nuttin' on Karma

Tuesday went nice and normal. I'm working hard trying to get my tasks done before quitting time. Of course, if it's not done, all of that stuff will be waiting for me on Wednesday. Just like it was waiting on me when I returned from my 4 pm lunch at 5 pm. Late lunches are preferred because when you come back from lunch, there's only 1 - 3 hours left to work. Pretty cool.

Well, my boss lady calls me into the office at 5:15 PM, but I get stuck with this crazy lady on the line who doesn't hear me well, gives the wrong answer, and it stretches our phone call out to about 5:45. Grrrrrr. Boss Lady is really understanding because she knows I'm working hard, but this meeting with the lady that signs my timesheets cannot wait until Wednesday. I'm kinda nervous because my lead has been with Boss Lady for quite some time. Maybe they've been meeting to discuss how much more slowly I get my work done than others. All kinds of thoughts are racing through my head like Elroy Jetson flying with a jetpack on his back while high on speed.

Boss Lady just straight shoots: "I had to let 'that Biatch' go. So it'll just be you and the lead for a while, but we're gonna move the other person over and start training her."

In case you forgot, 'that Biatch' is the chick who always gave me a hard time because she was obviously sooo much better at the job than I was. She's first-tier while I'm barely hanging onto second-tier status. She's Hennessey Privelege while I better be glad to be Paul Masson. (More about her at http://sunshynelyfe.blogspot.com/2007/10/co-workers-can-be-funny-as-all-get-out.html and http://sunshynelyfe.blogspot.com/2007/05/being-pressed-must-be-pressing.html.) Actually, we started getting along for the past week before she was let go. Of course, I was keeping my eyes WIDE open because I know how fake she is, but the objective in getting along was making the work week as easy as possible by minimizing the drama whereas she thrived on drama.

When I heard the news about 'that Biatch', I was quite shocked to say the least. Boss Lady tried to ask me a question about moving the other person over, but my words had trouble coming out since I was still so flabbergasted and taken by surprise. No one saw it coming...except Boss Lady and 'that Biatch' so I can't really elaborate on why she got fired considering that's just a bad look.

Just like it would be a really nasty look to rejoice at her losing her job during the holidays. Honestly, I don't want to rejoice because it's just foul even though the links above point out a smidgen of the crap dealt out by that 'woman'. Karma has got be busting a gut still laughing at the circumstances because all of the crap dealt to me and several others was all hit her dead in the face which might be feeling a few drops of Karma's spit on her face. Now, I'm really not rejoicing, but to be real, you would really think I'd be jumping for joy like a kid hearing their favorite morning DJ announce that school (and a day of tests) is out due to a Snow Day. I was never thrilled to hear about her losing her job. That's a woman with a kid at Christmas time who doesn't know exactly where her next paycheck is coming from. Then again, she has a side-hustle that she could take full-time (and she should), so extra concern about her really isn't needed. It's just not cool to openly be excited, and I haven't shown any of that since she's been gone.

In the meantime, Boss Lady made many assurance that my job was safe, and smugness clouded my thoughts while I luckily kept my face humble and worried. Boss Lady has documentation of how well I do my job from customers and the sales staff I support. I KNOW I'm really good to go as long as I don't eff things up, especially now. There are no guarantees that I'm safe, but I just know that I've been doing my part so I don't have to make Karma look me in the eyes and cuss me out. That's exactly what Karma did to 'that Biatch'. Bless her heart for losing her job, but 'that Biatch' earned that title, and she'll keep it...if I ever have to mention her again, but I shouldn't, should I? (Still not dancing. For real, for real.)

Contemplating All the Time

I feel bad for not blogging for so long. However, I've been dealing with A LOT in my life. The short version is I've been hit on by a variety of characters that helped me hone my skills when it comes to flushing the crap down the toilet. One guy was still married and ready to make a move because of the chemistry we had while dancing and talking. He was eventually gonna make me his girl on the side just waiting for the day he would leave his wife. Riiiight. The young fool took me to a drive-in where we went dutch, and he actually asked me, "Do you like oral?" during the date. Like my panties were gonna just disappear and we would get down to business. Just one disappointment after another.

However, one friend who was lurking but still being my friend got closer to me despite my resistance. He always claimed, "I love you," since I've met him, and my responses were, "You don't know me." But he really knew how to treat me the way I wanted and deserved to be treated. And he digs me for me, not what I could be. On November 25, we officially became a couple. It's only been 2 months, and I think he really does love me. I feel very strongly for him, but I beleive I'm emotionally dragging my feet because of all the stuff I've encoutnered so far at 30. I want to love. I just don't want to be hurt again. I'm just taking my time.

I'm still doing me in the meantime. I've fallen off my workout regimen because I hurt my heel pretty badly. I did the AIDS Walk but didn't have the best support for me in my shoes. I've been lightly limping since. I've ridden a stationary bike quite a few times, and I love to change the resitstance, challenge myself to a hig speed for abou 1 or 2 minutes, and feel the sweat. It's not as much sweat as I'd feel on the elliptical, but it's better than nothing. THen somehow, I've just stopped. I'm sure a great deal of it stems from being with someone who loves me just the way I am. He actually wishes I were bigger - no deal. I'll stay exactly the same before I pile on pounds. No one is worth me making my health completely decline by adding weight. Not even free Chick-Fil-A for a year, and I love those Mint Cookies 'n' Cream milkshakes.

But while I'm getting more and more consumed in this fast-moving romance, I just learned of Latasha Norman being a missing woman on Wednesday. Most people didn't hear about her disappearance because of mass media ignoring a non-white with blonde hair. It took FaceBook networking and adamant requests from the public for some national coverage of Latasha's story. As usual, we all suspect foul play from a current or former boyfriend because we hear a lot about that these days. As usual, we were right.

Based on the limited media details I read, Latasha broke up with her boyfriend months ago. But they were both students at Jackson State Univesity in Jackson, Mississippi so they were bound to bump into each other at the small school. On October 9, Latasha called police outside of a restaurant because Stanley hit her. Then on November 13, she winds up missing. Now, Stanley has been charged with Latasha's murder. Her body was found on November 29 and appeared to be 2 weeks into the decomposing process.

There's so many elements to this that are really jacking with my mind. For one, domestic violence has lead to an early death several times for several unfortunate ladies and their families. It might have been a case similar to Latasha's where she actually cut off the relationship, or it could be a case where the woman stayed when she should have left. It's even more disturbing that a 20 year old woman is no longer here because her 24 year old criminal justice major of an ex-boyfriend threw his life away because he couldn't handle rejection. It just doesn't make sense to me to give up my freedom because someone doesn't want to be with me.

That leads me to wonder about my sweetie. My boyfriend really is a genuinely sweet, shy, and funny guy who's kind, generous, and way more understanding and patient than any guy I've ever dated. However, I haven't had the opportunity to see him get truly upset (besides him stuttering to find the right words to protest my "You don't know me" response to his dail claims of loving me). Will he flip out like this? Will I ever be in danger?

I still recall one night after another long step practice, there were about 6 of the 9 step team members still outside before going home. We were talking about the case of Tynesha Stewart who was killed by her ex-boyfriend. He actually dismembered her body and burned her remains on a grill. Disgusting and unreal.... But one married soror was telling us singles, "Be careful of these men y'all are dating. You have no idea who you're dealing with. We don't want to see any of our names in the headlines because of who we dated." That sticks with me because we don't know. That can apply to a married woman as well as a single woman, but her motherly concern stuck with me. Stories like these help me on stay on my toes while dating.

Prayers go out to the family of Latasha Norman facing this new unfortunate circumstance as well as Tynesha Stewart's family who may take a very long time finding peace in these matters.

Sources:

http://www.clarionledger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20071129/NEWS/71129039
http://www.clarionledger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20071129/NEWS/71129031
http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/190902/texas_man_slaughters_and_grills_teens.html

I'm so proud and humbled to be in such a beautiful sisterhood as my awesome Sigma Gamma Rho. Anytime anyone asks me why did I pick Sigma over the other sororities, I have to ask them, "Were there really any other options?" To be completely frank, I know deeeeeep in my hearrrrrrrt (*sorry, got distracted*) that if I had become a part of any other sorority, I'd only be a t-shirt wearer. I would have gotten my letters and kept it pushing. I never do that for Sigma. I can't say what the future will hold, but I keep my sorority near and dear to my heart.

I'll admit that I looked like a neophyte today. I wore a royal blue shirt with a golden "EE-YIP!" across the chest. I RHOcked that new platinum status satin baseball jacket with the sparkly letters, and I even wore my yellow rubberband on the wrist. But how couldn't I celebrate so much after attending a national Founders Day observance??? It was like a mini-boule, and I loved it. I cannot wait for Boule '08 in Detroit.

So to my sexy soRHOrs of Sigma Gamma Rho, I say let's continue to be women who bless the world through our motto of "Greater Service, Greater Progress". If there's hate out there, let the "others" hate. Even after the hate, there's still 85 years of stRHOng love overflowing and keeping our sorority not just alive but thriving. EEEEEE-YIP!!!

I keep forgetting this job pays my bills but does not fulfill me or even make me happy. It's just a job. Therefore, I gotta spare some of my energy so I can work on blogging and writing in general.

The BlackOut on November 2. That's today. You all have heard about. If you haven't, maybe you stay off MySpace and YouTube and go read some news from time. Huey Freeman did tell us that he knows we don't read the newspapers. Anyway, I'm not thinking this plan is well thought out, and it cannot be well executed. It's one freaking day out of the year that you want me to avoid spending money if possible. Just one day. Payday Friday for me.

Well, if I want to avoid spending on Friday, I could have easily gone shopping and filled up my gas tank on Thursday evening just as I did. If possible, I can wait until Saturday to do my spending. There could be other Saturday shoppers that procrastinated just like me, and we'll just double the usual Saturday shopping numbers. As positive as I usually am, I cannot see how one day of non-spending will have an impact on America's pockets. Just one day.

How about we take it back to the "old school" and really sacrifice by boycotting one specific business for a month or even a whole year. The Montgomery Bus Boycott did the same thing. Look how we benefited from our grandparents' dedication and focus.

Maybe I'm being a pessimist for once, but I just don't see the impact this will make. Maybe if we focused on one particular industry or one particular giant. For example, maybe we'd tell black people to cancel their gym membership to XYZ gym ASAP. Just cancel them whenever the contract is up, or just walk on out of there. Go join another gym that doesn't offend us for whatever reason. There just needs to be better focus....

Speaking of focus, here is one way that a colleague of mine threw off my entire focus:

I think I like him

I saw him at my desk today. This IT dude walks over to my desk to ask for my assistance. He walks in my cubicle space and says, "I have a need." My heart stops for a second, and I'm sure my face betrayed me having devilish thoughts of fulfilling his need. He says with his easy smile, "It's not that kind of need!" Oh how I wish it were. (I'm so digging it that I had to blog about this immejetly [way beyond immediately].)

I don't know what it is about this dude, but he is so yummy to me. He's smart, funny, quite cute, and just an overall cool dude. He's also a white guy, but that doesn't matter to me. A hot guy is a hot guy. I wonder if I look up at him with lovestruck eyes. I wonder if I told him how hot he is if he would return that same look. I get all warm and fuzzy inside when I'm near him, and I wish I could be close to him a lot.

This all sounds so elementary, but I really dig him. How bold am I to act on it? That I'm not sure of yet, but I'd have to pull him off to the side when it became too much to hold in my heart.

I did that once before in college with this light-skinned pretty-eyed teddy bear of an upperclassmen. I was still a freshman who had not found her inner woman yet. He must have been a junior getting focused on getting out of school and into the real world. Teddy was so adorable, sweet, and just cool. I like my mean meaty, and I surely liked him. Definitely had meat on the bones but not too much. Sometimes, he and I sat at the same huge table to eat dinner with others. Sometimes, I just saw him in the dorm lobby hanging out, and we were always cool.

Teddy had been making my heart skip several beats for a while, and I just couldn't hold back. We were walking back through the residential area through the trees and sidewalk one evening as we did two or three times a week. Fall leaves showed their beautiful colors as they blew in the breeze. They appeared to be shaking like fragile brown, yellow, and orange pom-poms cheering me on and giving me a little hope. I sucked it up, held my breath for a minute, and when I needed air, I blurted out, "I have a confession."

Teddy slowed down and looked at me with some concern. "Speak your mind."

I swallowed hard and finally said, "I like you. I think you're such a nice guy, and you're cute. I just had to let you know that I really like you."

Teddy batted his long lashes behind his glasses, and a smile crept across his warm face. Thanks to his light complexion, I could see a slight blush forming. Maybe he likes me back. Maybe his heart flipped a few times just as mine had done.

Teddy continued smiling as he found the right words: "I'm flattered that you think of me that way."

Oooh.... I had heard that before from my first love, who I was still cool with and was determined to marry after college. (Thank GOD that didn't happen!) Flattery will get you everywhere - except into the flattered person's heart.

"I see you as a friend. I think we'll be better as friends. Besides, I'm seeing someone."

----------

I still don't know if any of that was true because he and I didn't talk as much in my sophomore year. Maybe he really got serious in his senior year. Plus, I did switch to a dorm in the middle of campus with stairs upon stairs but no elevators. Only your real friends visit you when you live in a dorm where you have to take 3 flights of stairs.

His rejection didn't hurt me, but it doesn't make me itch to tell someone else how crazy I am about him. So I honestly don't know if my colleague will ever know how much my heart flip flops for him. *sigh*

I've had a blogging block (not break) for a pretty good reason. See...I find myself caught up in trying to create a blog that's noteworthy or at least a favorite for a few people. Most importantly, I like being able to express myself about myself. Not that I'm a self-absorbed narcissist that spends all of my time in the mirror worrying about me!me!ME! I really do have other thoughts on my mind about the world today. But I struggle with expressing thoughts about ME knowing that there are so many important and critical things going on in the world.

• It's a damn shame that Mychal Bell was freed from jail only to be put back in again. It's like the judge is telling all Americans, "Oh! Y'all think y'all did something coming down to Jena and marching? Let me show you that y'all ain't did s***!" (Initially, my true intentions were to get involved in the Jena 6 movement by blogging about the latest happenings. But then things would get crazy at work, and I didn't get the opportunity to blog when the news was fresh. C'est la vie.)


• Nooses keep magically appearing on college campuses, but these incidents aren't limited to just the South. Who knew there were rednecks at Columbia Univeristy?


• Georgia is having a serious drought even in October. It's as if God said, "I'm tired of y'all building over the glorious land I provided. So why should I give moisture to what you're going to reconstruct anyway?" According to an interview on V-103 earlirer this week with Mayor Shirley Franklin, Atlanta may soon have to deal with water the same way Las Vegas does.

Now, I am a conservationist and psuedo environmentalist by nature. I am who I am. I really do believe that turning off my shower water for about 2 - 3 minutes while washing my body can make a small difference. The suds and dirt being washed off can be delayed. It's not like the dirt's going to seep back into my skin for another day.

But at the same time I know that I feel I can contribute to saving the earth, I had to realize that I'm not a civil rights activist. It's easy to recognize that we still have so far to overcome with all the injustice that we're suffering. But I'm not a political pundit. I'm not trying to be one of the new civil rights figures. I'll be glad to help out, but I don't know if I'm supposed to step up to be "The Voice" of the movement. I want to do more, but it's almost seems impossible to want to take life so nonchalant when there's global warming, an endless and reasonless war in Iraq, and this insane housing bubble.

Honestly, I'm just trying to be me. Just regular ol' not all that deep me. At the same time, I want to grow into a deeper, more introspective person. Maybe all of the growth and evolution will be obvious in my blogging and my overall self-awareness. Actually, I'm quite aware right now because being 30 is the greatest! I know more about who I am and who I want to be. I'm just having difficulty accepting that I want to be "deep" so that my blogging can be "deep".

For now, I'm just not deep. So, I just have to accept that I'm not one of those deep philosophical types. I can't dig deep to impress upon people about how much trouble African-Americans are in and will be in if things don't change for us. I'm not the one to spit all these historical facts about our history and where we've been so we'll know where we're going.

I just wanna be me while I'm blogging. I'm accepting that. As long as your readers accept it, I'm good. If readers don't, then there's other blogs, aren't there?

Co-workers can be funny as all get out. Not hold your sides and slap your neighbor's knee from laughing so hard funny. More like "Damn, you got issues" funny. The sad thing about this moment is I couldn't make this stuff up even though I'm an aspiring author. Maybe this comical but sad moment was given to me so I could experience something beyond my behavior standards. Something I can't imagine doing so I had to have it happen to put it in my mind.

It all started bright and early on a Wednesday morning. Traffic wasn't so bad, so it really took about 55 minutes to get to the job. I log into the phone first, so I'm the first one to get a phone call. I gently hit the button to open the lines of communication between customer and service associate. "Good Morning! Thank you for calling ____. This is Sunshyne. How may I help you?" Click.

Thank goodness for Caller ID because I got to look up the telephone number. No, I wouldn't call back and harrass a customer, but I had a sneaking suspicion of who was on the other line when the phone rang back immediately for my other coworker to learn that the third associate would be absent. It was that fake b**** of a coworker that I've posted about before (http://sunshynelyfe.blogspot.com/2007/05/being-pressed-must-be-pressing.html). I couldn't believe it because you can just ignore your coworker and ask for the manager's voicemail. Hanging up is middle school behavior, so I knew a 40+ year old woman couldn't do that.

But I just had to confirm it was that b****'s cell phone number, and I had to call her out. She probably didn't think anything of it, but hanging up on someone is so disrespectful. I sent a text message confronting her, and she simply replied, "I didn't want to talk to you." What? That pissed me off further because there was no remorse because she obviously felt I didn't deserve her respect. I can just have a dialtone with no apology or consideration for professionalism. There was no way I could just let that go. I'll admit my behavior was beginning to lean towards high school like drama, but I couldn't just let it go as if I was someone who could be easily disrespected. We have to work together, and the least colleagues can do is be civil to one another since they spend about 35 hours together.

So, I sent another simple text message: "So your solution was to hang up on me? Trust that you're not my fave person but I've never hung up on you when I was forced to talk to you and your attitude-filled hmmphs. Feel better."

Fast forward to Thursday morning. The phone rings to my colleague, whose cubicle is mine. I used those elementary lessons in context clues to figure out that the b**** was calling out again. Cool by me. It would be another cool day without her despite the work being so heavy because we do need all parties present. After b**** hangs up with my colleague, my phone rings 10 seconds later. I can't help noticing that the number is local, and I shake my head as I press the button on the ear piece.

"Good Morning! Thank you for calling ____. This is Sunshyne. How may I help you?"

A deep and obviously ill voice says, "Good Morning, Sunshyne! How are you?"

I routinely reply, "I'm fine. Thank you for asking. How are you?"

That ill voice forces out a pleasant, "I'm well this morning! Thank you!" Click.

I'm stunned that a 40+ year old woman really took time out on her sick day to call my line directly just to hang up on me. It angered me, but laughter escaped from my lips about 5 seconds later. I've never seen someone be so pressed about another individual, especially someone that should have more maturity. But that's the key. SHOULD. Having years under your belt doesn't give you wisdom under your dome.

That exchange did release a little of my inner evil though. I actually researched the phone number and confirmed that it matched the area where she said she lives. So I conveniently sent b**** a text message to follow up her display: "I hope you're resting well over on [street name], but I'm glad to know I'm on your mind on your day off." I know good and well hell I never think about the job on any day off. For what? My focus should be on me and enjoying myself or getting good treatment for whatever ails me.

So was there a lesson learned? Yes, there were two:

• I was tired of ignoring bullisht that I would encounter with that b****. I was trying to keep the peace because we have to work together. Getting hung up on (which essentially equate to "F*** you" in my mind) flipped the script. So, it's out there. I really don't care for her, and I'll just be a professional as possible. Anything personal or sociable is out the window.
• Truck driving is even more appealing than ever. I can't wait to get away from silly office politics and just drive. How much longer do I have? That depends on some of the research I'll get back. Maybe...just maybe I can find a truck driving school with night hours. Then I can keep my current job and benefits a little longer. Foolishness will not get in the way of my sound thinking.

Diversions that you NEED

In this day and age of harsh realities (I ain't forgot about Jena at all), sometimes you just need a break. A break from the bullisht on your job because there's one person who steps over the line. A break from realizing that black folks have so far to go for our civil rights. A break from "the housing bubble" that's got folks being foreclosed on left and right. You don't have to marinate on these realities all of the time.

That's what TV networks believed in the '60s with classics like "The Munsters" and "Bewitched" being on television to divert us from the saddening news images of an unnecessary war that kept sending thousands of American soldiers home in coffins being broadcasted in our living rooms. Sounds familiar right?

Well, the idea is being recycled in 2007 with shows like "Heroes", "Bionic Woman", and what I'm expecting to be a great show (that'll get cancelled like all great shows) "Pushing Up Daisies".

Dwell on swell sitcoms for a spell.

September 11, 2001 was supposed to be a nondescript kind of day that didn't matter. I had skipped work on a Tuesday and was lounging in bed. It was kinda bad that I was skipping because I had already had Monday off to begin with.

That was the best Monday in a while. It was a beautiful, sunny fall day as I walked around the Little Five Points area. My red afro was shining in the sunlight as the hippy population all around me didn't blink because there's no such thing as weird or abnormal in Little Five Points. Nag Champa incense bounced around in my paper bag as I left Junkman's Daughter and walked anywhere I pleased without a care in the world.

Everything just felt so right, so easy, so beautiful. I even decided to treat myself to a delicious lunch at Bridgetown Grill, a Caribbean cuisine restaurant. While I was enroute to Bridgetown, I still recall a clear thought crossing my mind in the middle of a great day in a great city. "Hmm...Nothing's happened in a long time that shook America to its core. Nothing like Pearl Harbor. I wonder what could happen to break us down like that ever again." The only thing I could think of was literally seeing America shook to its core and having buildings crumble before my eyes. But that was just a creative, overactive imagination. (NOTE: This is not fiction; this is an actual recollection.)

Then, my Mom woke me up. I was in my Grandmama gown that my grandmother gave me. It's literally one of those zip up gowns that grandmothers answer the door in, but it's so comfortable. Mom was kind of frantic as she told me, "A plane hit the World Trade Center." I waved it off and went back to sleep. It was obviously just an accident. Someone would save the lives, and it would be okay. I wanted my Z's.

Amazingly, I woke up later and felt the pain later. I felt that we were officially shaken at our core. My world crumbled around me for three days as I lay across my bed in a depressed mode because someone could take a plane and use it as a weapon against innocent people. So, I could only imagine what it was like in New York and Washington, DC.

I could reflect on and on, but we all know how it went down. It's still amazing six years later. I'll never forget what happened. What scares me is that 54 years from now, our children and grandchildren will treat September 11 just the way I looked at Pearl Harbor: just another day. It's quite possible, but I hope our generation doesn't let it go down like that.

"You got music in you the whole world needs to hear."

I disliked most of the OutKast CD, "Idlewild". That CD never truly grew on me, even after playing it for a straight month. Just tonight, I just finally saw the movie on HBO, and I appreciated the movie and music. The title for this post is my favorite line from the movie, but you have to know what happened before I heard that line.

I woke up in the middle of the night on the couch. How did I sleep through the Sunday night of Labor Day weekend? Well, I guess I was tired from shopping with my Mom. I rarely shop with her, and she asked me if I wanted to go with her to this place around the corner that sells sheets, comforters, rugs, and other goodies for the house - except it's in a warehouse/outlet environment, and I hate that type of shopping. Nonetheless, Mom wanted me to go, and I did. I had my MP3 going and I was dancing all around to "Go" by Common, "He's the Greatest Dancer" by Sister Sledge, and "Sunshowers" by Dr. Buzzard's Savannah Band. Mom found nothing, and I bought my first set of 400 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. Golden with vertical stripes for $34.99. Mom was ticked because she wanted the same sheets, but there was only one set in my size. *Kee kee kee* Then, I got a pedi and dealt with crap at Walmart.

Maybe that was too much excitement for me, but I awoke at 11:30 going in and out from one of those "Haunted History" shows. Honestly, I'm still not sure what was going on, but there was a psychic contacting a miner, and then another psychic was saying that the spirit was actually Carole Lombard, the wife of screen legend Clark Gable. While the second psychic was saying Lombard and Gable visited that particular location even today, I coulda swore a third spirit was contacting me. Maybe I was sleeping too hard, but it was so hard for me to wake up that last time. It was almost as if someone were lying on top of me and applying pressure to my whole being. I actually told someone in a long drawl that required great energy, "Let me wake up." Once I woke up, I had to take some direction from Sylvia Brown, the psychic that's always on "Montel" on Wednesdays. Three times I told whoever might have been visiting, "Thank you for your time. You're no longer welcome."

Flipping through channels led to the final hour of the film "Idlewild". Based on the last part, I have to see the whole movie sometime. Now I regret not seeing the movie while it was in theaters so I could contribute to another black movie in the Hollywood machine. Now, I'll have to purchase the DVD.


OutKast - Idlewild Blue (Don't Chu Worry 'Bout Me)

Awfully enough, that is not the first time that has happened. Something tells me that won't be my last time. Again with the psychic tendancies, but no winning Mega Millions ticket. *sighhhh*

My favorite line came when Rooster (Big Boi) belligerantly knocks on Percival's (Andre Benjamin [who is more than just 3000 to me]) door right before a pivotal moment. I can't tell the whole movie in case someone else hasn't seen it yet. Percival recognizes Rooster won't be denied as usual and answers the door. Rooster works hard to convince Percival to take train tickets to Chicago to pursue his dream of making and playing music beyond Idlewild. "You got music in you the whole world needs to hear," Rooster pleads.

Damn if that line didn't speak to me. There are stories in my head that the world should hear. God blessed me with a talent for putting words together, and I believe this life of mine is making more sense now because of the talent. Maybe I'm going through the things I go through just so I can give my unique perspective on ideas. So, I'm gonna keep blogging, but I know the world should be able to hear my perspective on this life. A smart person once said, "If you keep on doing what you've always done, you'll keep on getting what you've always got." -- W. L. Bateman (Don't know who that is, but it's still a brilliant idea.)

The Jena 6

http://www.petitiononline.com/aZ51CqmR/petition.html


I ignored this forward so many times in my e-mail. I finally opened it and was amazed at the obvious miscarriage of justice that is still happening in 2007. Genarlow Wilson is not an isolated case of racism in our justice system. Watch the video, then take some form of action. Sign the online petition; the link is above. There's links on the web to donate to the justice team working to free the Jena 6.

This travesty cannot just be allowed to happen without a blink from us.

Special thank you to the Luscious Librarian for schooling me on how to embed videos. :)

What I have in common with Michael Vick

Now may not be the best time every to find what you may have in common with this man. I wanna give him a "Bless his heart," but there's no way I can. I know I've made my fair share of mistakes and bad judgements in life. I haven't been perfect in any way. It would be asinine to expect anyone else to be perfect, even when they're paid very well to be nearly flawless when performing in front of thousands. In that respect, relating to Vick is easy because I still recall being on that step show stage in front of 3,500, and the judges were looking for flawless perfection in our movements, steps, flavor, and personality.

But the difference is I did it for a $2,000 first prize which went directly back to my chapter's treasury. My team's effort was a work of love where we gave our all with unselfishness because we were stepping in the name of our sorority. Dozens of sorors believed in us and showed up to the show, so we had to represent Sigma in the best light possible.

But Mr. Vick.... I just don't understand what motivates anyone to partake in illegal activities that risk your NINE FIGURE contract, the opulent lifestyle you're used to, or your freedom. I love waking up without someone telling me. I love that I can eat what I want when I want it. Upset would not be the word to describe my feelings if I couldn't get behind the wheel and drive. The only person I have to answer to is God, not the warden or that head dude who runs the cell block and wants to try the fresh meat. Personally, the dog fighting was heinous because dogs are wonderful creatures that shouldn't be abused and forced to damn near kill each other for our entertainment. I don't know if Vick should lose his entire eligibility to play football forever over this, but damn, Mike! You gotta pay the consequences because you made some dumb choices. Plain and simple. I wonder if his face looks like that all the time knowing how jacked up things are because he felt that Vick was invincible and would never fall flat on his face.

My dad and I got to arguing about this. My dad is a man that proves Chris Rock right everytime: the most racist person in the world is an old black man. Dad isn't really "old" at 55, but he's seen a lot growing up in middle Georgia and moving to Atlanta as a teen.

"Them crackas set Vick up. They didn't have to do him like that."

I'm looking at Dad like he's crazy. "Why it gotta be white people that set him up? Did they make his dumb ass fight some dogs?"

Dad says, "The white man always trying to bring blacks down, especially blacks with all the money."

I have to admit that in a lot of cases, Dad's theory rings true, but not in this case. His last comment had pissed me off, too. "Well, if Vick has all the money, and he knows someone's looking out for him just because he's black, why the hell would he put a bullseye on his back for them to hit their target? They could turn any little thing he does into a controversy. This dumb ass indulges in a controversial past time that is not a good look to a lot of people. Tell me how the hell white folks set him up for that?"

Dad stopped talking then because that isht was true. I'm just not one of the black folks that blindly supports what someone does because he's black. If you doing some nasty dirt, my name is not going behind it. Just because it's hot in the streets does not mean I have to support it. So just because Vick was making millions on top of millions because he was able to do what he was good at, that doesn't mean I'm going to blindly support his poor decision making skills. I feel the same about Busta Rhymes not cooperating with the police to find who killed his so-called close friend. I sho as hell don't care for Young Joc's song about the "CoffeeShop". Great analogy, but you got a kiddie type hook and melody talking about slanging. Get outta here with that mess!

Nonetheless, Vick should have a fair chance to redeem himself. In the meantime, maybe hundreds of thousands of kids everywhere got some kind of wakeup call from the Vick Debacle. Maybe they actually see that you can't just do any old reckless thing and get away with it. Maybe they finally know that if a famous athlete has consequences for his actions, they'll definitely have to face the music. Maybe they'll closely evaluate their decisions so they won't have to be called "The Biggest Loser" like Vick is right now.

Speaking of "The Biggest Loser", that'll be my title in about 2 months. We're having a "Biggest Loser" contest at our job, and determination has got me focused on being the winner. There's a $400 pot and an IPod Nano for the winner, and even the runner-up will win a Nano. This contest has finally provided the motivation I ned to monitor my eating habits more closely and map out a workout plan that's workable. Walking during a work break and/or lunch has even crept into the plans. It'll be great if the plan works, but good choices have to be made consistently to get the results. A plan means nothing without implementation and execution. So, hopefully, I'll have the "Biggest Loser" label in common with Michael Vick by the third week of October when we officially weigh in again. If I'm not, then I'll just be redeemed with the knowledge that I did my best and didn't hurt anybody including myself with my efforts.

Wish me luck. Pray for Vick.

I have to talk about Michael Vick another time, but we all make jacked up choices

Bless this girl's heart. I might be having a hard time with my love life, but this child has become one of the biggest jokes in a while. I feel badly for her, but it's pure comedy that I came across thanks to me listening to "The Bert Show" rather than my usual Steve Harvey Morning Show.

Just know that Ms. Teen South Carolina was one of the top five finalist in the 2007 Ms Teen USA Pageant, and this is her answer to the question. We all make mistakes, but dang. Hopefully, she'll have to chance to bounce back just like all of us have.



After 10 days of reflection, I have decided I'm on Man Hiatus. This will be my time to bounce back by focusing on me. Who am I really? What do I really want, and how am I going to get it? While I'm reflecting, planning, and taking action, there will be no men involved for an indeterminate amount of time. (Gotta plan that part, too.)

The Man Hiatus will be fine. One of my good friends who is a HS teacher is turning 30 soon, and we both are fed up with the dating situation in Atlanta. Just too many men think that Atlanta is their playground, and women's hearts are their playthings for the momen. The men we're encountering are having issues, and it's too damn late in this life for this silliness. Most of the frustration lies with knowing that we have other girlfriends who are dating, becoming engaged, getting married, and starting their families. Yet, we're two of the thousands of good women who are drama-free, non-manipulative, honest, and sincere women who can't catch a break when it comes to this dating crap.

So, I'm removing myself from this madness for now. I need to get to know me and keep moving forward instead of worrying about when the next guy is coming along. Matter of fact, if the next guy approaches me, I'll have to pass for a while. I know a little voice in my head will whisper, "Are you sure you should pass him up? What if he's THE ONE?" Then, I'll remember all of the guys I gave a sincere chance to, and I'll have to say, "I am the one. If I make me the priority, then the right one will come along." Most importantly, it won't be an urgent matter of dating someone or talking to a guy. If he ever comes along, he'll be a complement to my life, not a requirement or a validation.

Interesting Part II

This past Tuesday, plans were made for an easy-going "nice to meet you" date with a friend of one of my favorite cousins. I appreciated her thinking of me in the midst of her lovefest. In a lot of cases, people forget about their friends and family when they think they've found "The One". I know because I have been guilty of it, but not my cousin. She figured that if she was happy that she might be able to assist me in happiness with one of her friends. Awwww.... However, I think her ulterior motive was to provide a full table for dominoes games at her crib. Why not have her man, a cool cousin, and a cool friend to help her make four at her games? Of course, this is just speculation, but it makes sense in hindsight.

This friend of my cousin's, J, seems to be pretty boring. There's no personality over the phone, and he seems hesitant to have discussion. (That's why J is best name I could give him; there's nothing about him that stands out.) I really hesitated for this meeting, but since he stepped out for once and actually asked for the "date", I couldn't say no. Besides, there's a chance that he may be one of those people that doesn't care for phone convo but shines in a face-to-face experience. Just maybe.

Tuesday evening comes, and working out isn't on the schedule. I actually get home around 7:30 and give my dog a good bath outside. She was actually pretty good about it because she didn't run out of the tub or hide anywhere. Maybe she likes baths after all. Well, I got a little smelly myself, so I have to freshen up.

I figure this showering and looking nice thing would slow me down. In my considerate mode, I call J and ask, "Can we push back the time to 9:15? I need a lil more time to freshen up, and I don't want to make you wait for me alone at Longhorns." J agrees, and I get to scrubbing.

8:55 appears on my orange clock radio, and I'm still not completely ready. No worries because I live about 8 minutes away. I get jazzy with beads on my neck to balance a flirty tank and capri jeans. It's all topped off with a twist out hairstyle pinned into a mohawk. Yes, I know I'm on point, and J will see it, too. Not that I'm aiming for a romantic connection, but J needs to see what he's been sleeping on. I slip into my Honda around 9:12 and no that I'm running late.

It's 9:18 and I'm still on the way. Damn. So, I pull out the phone and call J again. No answer. I call back a second time, and there's J.

I open with, "Hey! I almost thought you had changed your mind and was trying to avoid my call."

J says, "Naw, I'm not that bad."

"Well, look, I'll be a Longhorns in about 3 minutes. I'm sorry for running late. Where are you?"

J plainly states, "I'm watering my grass."







That's all my silence. Right. There. "You're doing what?" I ask incredulously.

J plainly states again with no problem, "I'm watering my grass. I want this stuff to grow."

I can understand his desire of wanting all elements of his new home to be perfect. I can respect it. But at 9:18 when you have a date at 9:15? Really? The interesting part is that a lot of metro Atlanta is still under water restrictions, and most counties can do outside watering after 10 PM. Regardless, since when is grass so much more important than a date? Whose time counts the most: the woman who's out on a worknight and has to go to work the next morning, or the grass that doesn't have a job, won't fuss at you for waiting to water it, and has absolutely no obligations to anyone except to beautify our view of the world below as God saw fit to bless us with???

There was more convo that's absolutely incredulous. How did J's poor decision making skills affect him on a Tuesday night? I said, "You know what? I'm going home. I'm already on the street where Longhorn is, but I'm not waiting for your slow ass. This is so beneath my standards."

J actually begs, "Please don't go home! I'm on my way. I'll be there in 5 minutes."

"Oh hell naw," I protest. "Besides, it'll take you 5 minutes to get from the exit to Longhorns. You don't live on the exit, so it won't take 5 minutes, and I'm not waiting in a parking for 10 minutes for your arrival." Yeah, I got that angry t insist I wouldn't wait for him when I had called him to say I was about to make him late. Sounds contradictory? Like I give a flying fig. J was not in his car, but in his front yard. I actually turned around and went home and haven't heard from J since.

That horoscope from two Sundays ago is still ringing true. I'm surrounded by idiots these days, and I don't know if this is just a test, or if I'm being idiotic somehow and happen to be attacting the same idiocy. I don't feel like the latter is the case, but I just have to wonder about that. Should I be on man hiatus again? Damn, man hiatus is boring, and I'm having fun in my 30th year. Do I really have to make that big of a sacrifice? Now?

Despite my whining, they may be what I need to do. Concentrate on creative stuff, go work out, get my isht in order, and leave dudes alone. Maybe I need to find something to cuddle next to at night and spray it with some cologne or AXE. Anything but pulling these dummies into my personal space.

Interesting....Do tell!

Remember when saying something was "interesting" really used to mean, " holding the attention : arousing interest"?(a) It actually was something that was nice, cool, or just plain ol' good. After slaving over cubed steak & gravy, mashed potatoes, sweet peas, and homemade biscuits to set dinner time off right, the family would gather around the dinner table with the nightly news playing on the kitchen TV. Then, Mama or Daddy would ask, "What did you do in class that was interesting today?" Then, like a good son or daughter, you sit and think for a hot second while still tearing up the potatoes, peas, and gravy that you mixed together to your Mama's chagrin, and you state matter of factly, "I got a 100 on my spelling test," or, "Miss White let me lead the class to the cafeteria for lunch."

Mama says for the umpteenth, "Don't speak with your mouth full."

You finish chewing and tell Mama, "Sorry."

Mama wants to launch into, "That's another reason we don't take you nowhere. You act like I didn't raise you better than to talk with a mouth full of food." But your story aroused her interest, so you see Mama's face soften as she asks, with interest, "So tell me what happened." Then, with your chest all swollen with pride, you excitedly launch into the good details of how that event went down and ended on a positive note.

Even as recently as 10 years ago, let's say one of your male friends asks you about your homegirl that lives on your floor of the dormitory. Your answer might sound like, "Oh, Stacy? She's a really interesting girl." That stirs intrigue in your homeboy, and you go into further good details: "Yeah, she's in SGA and an African Dance troupe. She's always into something, but there's no drama because everybody likes her. Stacy even does community service at a homeless shelter on the weekends, and she's not even trying to go Greek." So, homegirl Stacy is interesting in a legitimately good way because those details really did hold homeboy's attention, and arouse interest.

Fast forward to 2007. "Interesting" is never mistaken as anything good these days. Don't remember exactly when that changed, but I know my love life is definitely "interesting". The sad thing is that my current state of affairs can definitely hold someone's attention because of its silliness, and it may arouse interest because everyone deserves entertainment. Who am I to deny anyone entertainment?

First of all, I had a teary but reflective Friday and Saturday because I normally would try to spend some time with Bones on Saturday and/or Sunday. This was the first weekend where that didn't go down because we're not an item anymore. Today, I just recognize it for what it is: "It bes that way sometimes." Like SupaChica told me on the phone, "Girl, he did you a favor. He wasted 3 months of your time instead of 3 years of your life. Learn the lesson and move on."

So, in my attempt to move on, I have some prospects. I'm trying hard to be like one of my sorors, and keep a stable of men that all know their friends until further notice. If I find a top prospect that eventually becomes #1, then all others would go to the wayside. I'm too old to use my energies to try to be a hardcore playerette but still too old to be silly enough to date one guy at a time.

After being teary on Saturday, I decided to get busy on the errands I neglected and get them taken care on a stifling hot Sunday afternoon. That "buy one, get one free" coupon for an oil change at a local oil change franchise was calling me, so I jumped in the Honda and got it cracking. The dark denim capris, sleeveless cleavage-showing top enhanced with yellow glittery beads, and white low-heeled flip flops were looking niiice after the fresh pedicure. As soon as I pull up, there's flirting. Too bad it's with a older gentleman. Really nice with a fresh mouth and about 40 years on him. Not feeling Mr. Goodwrench before the middle age crisis goes full swing.

I'm in the lobby listening to my MP3 and jamming off my white people: Queen and George Michael. Then I take it old school with Newcleus and Prince. I'm called up to the counter by this young tender. Yes he is tendaaaah. Tall, red, kinda slim and toned. I see the biceps popping under his polo shirt. Looks so familiar but I can't place it. He happens to be the store manager, and he calls me to the desk to settle the bill. I'm straight jammin' to my 80s moment, and Mr. Manager can't help taking notice.

"Where's your man?"

I quickly respond, "Dumped!"

Manager's interest is piqued. "Why'd you dump him?"

"He punked out on a very important matter, and I don't date punks."

After this exchange, one of the other employees leaves the lobby and leaves me and the manager alone to flirt. The manager has this swagger...that looks familiar. As he sits down, he spreads his long legs wiiide open. Then, I notice his right hand covered with a powder blue rubber glove go immediately to the crotch area. I think, "This is kind of a garage, and it's man space. That's just how some guys roll without thinking." Just like me to give the benefit of the doubt.

"DJ," he answers with a beautiful white smile. "Those are my real initials so I'm a real DJ." He tells me his real name, and I nod with a smile. "Well, alright then, Red." Dude is a serious redbone, lighter than me. Usually not my type, but if I'm working on my flirting skills, I might as well play along with DJ.

Then, without looking too hard, I notice without staring that his right hand is moving in an up and down motion in his crotch area. "A lot of people call me Red Mandingo," he says with this lustful look on his face.

Yeah, that's Donald Rumsfeld, our former Secretary of Defense, and he's aptly communicating the disbelief of that statement. Just a dead stare was on my face, but I was internally rubbing my eyes and cleaning my ears because I just knew that I had hallucinated that whole scene. The staring into Mr. Mandingo's face continued, but no words followed. Mr. Mandingo obviously expected applause and a cartwheel with his announcement. However, my silence always speaks volumes, and that was my response. Miraculously, the powder blue was removed from his crotch, but I couldn't take the rest of his convo seriously.

That interaction leaves me pondering because that's not the first time someone has tried me like that. That was definitely the first time a young, dumb guy of 27 tried to stimulate me visually, but I still have to wonder. Am I getting approached like that just because I'm a big girl, and these guys really think that I'm a desperate fat girl just waiting for the opportunity for my vagina to meet any penis offered to me? I know some guys will try anything with breasts and a continuous breathing pattern. Unfortunately, I just find too many of these guys hitting on me.

I know I'm worth more than that because I have had some real relationships in my past (that I must delve into later). It just seems to elude me at this critical 30s juncture. It makes me look at myself and think what's wrong. And damn it, if this stuff doesn't send me back into a reflective mode when I'd be much happier moving forward. I'm really not hurting about Bones anymore, but now, I'm wondering if guys just think they can try me in any way just because. As if I as a woman don't deserve the best but should settle for whatever bullisht they think they should offer with minimum effort. *sigh* "Tryin' to make a sista feel low/You know all of that has to go". Thanks, Queen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(a) Merriam-Webster's Dictionary, http://www.m-w.com/.

Reflections on whatever we had

Whodini - One Love

Posted Nov 07, 2006

To love someone is an atmosphere/

That you both still share when one's not there/

There's no way real it can be explained

.....

It's the way I trust you and you trust me/

I guess some of us are so lucky

Who knew I would be enlightened by Whodini's "One Love" when it came to this thing called "love"? Those lyrics and feelings applied to me and Bones just a few days ago. Now, it's all gone. Funny that the song was playing immediately after I hung up the phone from that effed up phone call. All because he pulled an enormous punk move with a punk decision. No gumption. No courage in this situation. Just had the gall to suggest to me after nearly 3 months, "I hope we can be friends and still hang out from time to time."

Yeah, I took it back to about 1990 when I heard that "proposition". My face contorted into a straight up "Gas Face". Where in the hell does he get off giving me breakup terminology at this point in our friendship? And by this point, we were more than friends...but not officially a couple.

Bones insisted on Wednesday evening that the matter was quite complicated. "I should tell you everything face to face. I owe you that much."

With a painful look on my face like I just smelled someone's after effects of the bean burrito from lunch, "Just spit it out now. You can't leave me hanging like that after suggesting a plain 'friends' situation."

"It's kinda late to talk about it now, but can we meet for drinks or a bite to eat on tomorrow?"

I'm remembering some of the great Rules I've been learning, and I make sure he understands the world doesn't revolve around him. No changes to my schedule just because Bones makes a suggestion. "You know Thursday at 7 PM is Kamick time," I answer as I look forward to the beautiful pain of the weekly step class. "I gotta work out. So how about 9 o'clock at my house? We'll go somewhere from there, and I should be showered and dressed by 9."

Bones agrees, and we get off the phone. So, Thursday comes, I get forced to workout with a substitute for Kamick, which was awful. Only 1/5 of the class actually worked out, and it was such a letdown. I thought that I was tired again, but I was quite slow during the workout because it was boring and repetitive easy crap. Nowhere near Kamick's style. Sad thing is that I had encountered Lazy Lindsay before, and just like the first time I worked out with her, I had no endorphins flowing as I somberly left the gym at 8:01 PM. I knew I couldn't get on a machine to make up for that wack step class because I had to meet with Bones.

I pull into the driveway at 8:33 PM knowing that I might not be ready at exactly 9. I decided to be proactive and check Bones' estimated time of arrival. When he answers, I'm nice about everything in the little chit chat. We're glad that both of us had a decent day at work.

"So, where are you now?" I ask.

"At my cousin's house," he replies.

"And you're on your way to where?"

The man who gets off at 4 PM from his supervisor position at a hospital says, "I haven't been home all day. I was at my cousin's for a while."

I ask again, "And you're on your way to where?"

Bones plainly says, "Home."

I answer with silence because I'm in disbelief. Bones knows my silence speaks volumes. After about 8 seconds, I plainly ask, "Shouldn't you be on your way over here like you said?"

Bones comes with a lame answer: "I have to work tomorrow, and it's getting kinda late."

Now I start to get steamed because we has a face-to-face talk last week, but it wasn't a problem letting me come over to visit late for a talk. When it's his turn to drive, he somehow is much more conscious of the time of day. In my frustration and anxiety, I make a simple request: "Just spit it out then. Why is there suddenly a request to be 'friends' when we were supposedly growing closer in our current friendship?"

This began a long bullisht conversation regarding the previous woman he was dealing with. The story Bones gave to me is that he asked her to move in before he and I started being friendly. He wanted to help her manage her money, which she reportedly has a good deal of because of not one, but two good jobs. After getting to know me better, he claimed he told his previous woman he was no longer interested, and they couldn't be friends because he met someone else he was interested in. But whenever I was over there, there were traces of a woman being there. These articles of clothing and hygienic products were never removed, boxed up, kicked into the closet, covered up, or anything. They just remained as if I never noticed them or brought them to Bones' attention. Well, in our conversation, he finally reveals that the woman was still living there. She just works a lot, so she wasn't being seen because she wasn't coming to the house when I was there.

Bones concludes, "So it'll be hard for you and I to spend time together since she lost one of her jobs. She has no where else to go." Blah. Blah. Mothereffing Blah. More bullisht that doesn't make sense because it wasn't that damn complicated and hard to spend time only days before.

On top of that, the only thing I got from him was a "Happy Birthday" call. I think we might have gone out for my birthday, but he was out of town on vacation (so he claims). He gets back into town, and I get nothing. Over two weeks later, and nothing to recognize my 30th. (Hmm....I didn't even get some cute trinket from his trip, and I never saw pics from the family reunion.) In a way, I feel like I played myself for seeing him and getting nothing when he gets back because I believe I saw him twice after he returned; I didn't have to return after the first visit. I wasn't looking for some gargantuan display of flowers or a tennis bracelet. I just wanted a genuine token of affection or something that shows that the guy I'm interested in is thankful that God saw fit to give me life and then have the two of us cross paths. A birthday card, a gift card, or a simple tulip would have meant something to me. But I got plenty of calls and text messages on my birthday. Therefore, the guy that I'm interested in should be able to step it up and get me something nice. Something special from him that shows that I am definitely special to him.

But that didn't happen. Then, you combine the issue with that other woman (or would that be my title? I'on'know.), and I've been fed a bunch of bull. Three months of bull from the guy that I gave a second chance to, and it all ends in a wack call where all my intuition is confirmed.

He honestly just wasn't that into me. He put on a decent act with it, but I still had suspicions. I don't know what the truth is about the entire matter, but I do know that Bones punked out on me. The easier road was to tell Sunshyne that we should just be friends. Not to deal with the uncomfortable sensation of telling someone that it's completely over. It's just more comfortable to drop the person that you have ridiculous chemistry with. Even as I type this entry, I still don't get what's going on in his head. I think I can read his heart pretty well: he was playing a game. That was what I was thinking for a minute, but it felt so real for so long. It was really special because it was the second time around for us. I was convinced that he couldn't be playing around. This is real.

But he seemed to have a lack of respect for me, and I love myself way more than I like him. Therefore, I can't tolerate such disrespect for my emotions, my concerns, and my being so ready to trust him. That just ain't right, especially when I know I deserve the best.

So, here comes some serious reflection on what went wrong, what could I have done better, what shouldn't I have done at all, and most importantly, what can I do to avoid this situation in the future? I have had a bad habit of not reflecting back, but I'm 30, and this nonsense cannot continue forever. I don't want to be stuck on the idea that love isn't for me. I am too optimistic to stick to the infuriating idea that I can't trust anyone and that the 2' thick brick wall that I'm reconstructing needs to stay up forever. I'll peek through that wall if someone is interested, but I have to be even more careful who I open up to. If I open up, then I have to play the gave carefully to avoid going through the same cycle of bullisht.

Amazingly, my horoscope in the AJC by Jeraldine Saunders on this past Sunday (8/5/07) kinda predicted this. Well, I figured me and Bones being on the outs was just a moment in time, but maybe I didn't let enough time pass by for the horoscope's sage advice:

You might be in the mood for love.

But love might not be in the mood for you

over the next several days.

Tap into creative outlets and hobbies for the best success.

Don't be overly critical of yourself.

When I reflect on that horoscope, my mind is like a Parker Brothers board game: Boggled. I saw it coming and read it clearly knowing that the horoscope was da truth. The horoscope is not a regular part of my Sunday paper reading, so having every word of a horoscope apply to my situation should've been a clue. Honestly, I thought enough time had passed since Sunday, but four days was not enough.

Now, I have to use the last two lines to get through this all. I'm blogging now to tap into my creativity and good use of time. I can't allow my mind to idle and become the Devil's playground, where reminiscing on the good times and incessant questions of why and when about the Bones' behavior pop into my mind over and over. Then, I might be driven to make a poor decision, like calling him for closure. I also need to stop beating myself up. I'm reading that I can be critical of the situation and evaluate myself, but I cannot allow all of the blame to lie with me. I might have been to ready to trust him quickly and begin to fall for him because we had chemistry, but it's not entirely my fault that he thought it was okay to continually disrespect me and my emotions and not find our friendship worthy of "fighting" for.

And that female guard with the gun by that wall? She's been promoted to protecting a 3' thick wall guarding my heart, and she's handily holding a Mossberg.

As I continue to reflect, one conclusion I've come to is I must play the game the way it's meant to be played. No straying from the Rules because I think this guy is different. He won't play me. Eff that. If I play this stupid game, then I might be able to land a reliable, trustworthy man. If I don't call the guy at all, then maybe he'll maintain his interest. In other words, I need that self-discipline that I'm sorely lacking in other areas. I need the discipline to not call a man, to not spend so much time with that man at his house, and to not sleep with him after quite a few weeks. Maybe he'll never get it until we're married. Hell, I sell toys meant to tide a girl over until the next romp in the sheets. I especially need the discipline to cut a guy from my life if he starts trying me for sex way too early in our acquaintance. Thinking and strategizing have been a part of my plans before, but sticking to the planned strategy will be necessary in the future because I don't plan on being an old maid.