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.

I can't work this life no mo'!

Brother Kanye works my nerves with his arrogance, and he's really pretty average looking, but that intro from "Spaceship" off "College Dropout" inspired this post. The picture goes so well with my ambitions, too. Just walk the hell out the do' all cocky with it because I'm know I'm walking into a better door than the one I left.

One of the best lines in the whole song:

Waitin' paitently I ask myself

Where I wanna go, where I wanna be

If that song ain't talking about me right this second! The salespeople are going crazy with their "I want it yesterday" attitude as if we don't have anything else to do for our support jobs. We always have something to do. Well, Fridays can be kinda blah for my position, and the same kinda goes for sales. But they keep pushing, and it's making the job not so easy anymore.

That's why I still have my mind focused and steered straight towards being behind the wheel of a semi. I know I need to stay with this job for at least another 7 months. I may even sacrifice my happiness and wait 8 months so I can be on my chapter's step team again. (I can't be in practice in March if I'll be doing the truck driving school thing in March.) That sacrifice isn't so bad to me in comparison the idea of being constantly frustrated because I know I'm getting more and more sucked into this corporate life that I never wanted to be in. This goes to show again: If you own a small business, keep your business private and small enough so your empoyees don't have to suffer.

Meanwhile, I had two psychic moments in the past two days. Me and Bones are kinda on the outs. I've decided not to sweat it this time. If he calls, he calls. If he doesn't call, "then it just wasn't meant to be. It just wasn't." (MC Lyte's "Paper Thin") But back to the psychic moment. Monday morning, I was thinking of an answer to the question, "What song best describes your love life?" I was listening to Frank and Wanda on V-103, which I normally avoid because I'm a proud sufferer of SHMSS - Steve Harvey Morning Show Syndrome. Well, the song that comes to mind is "Stop Playin' Games" by 8Ball. We're both playing a stupid game, but he really needs to come correct on his game. I swear to God that "Stop Playin' Games" came on about 2 minutes later. Coincidence? Maybe.

On Tuesday morning, I'm driving into work just jammin' with a morning workout mix on V-103 again. What can I say - I just got tired of Tommy talking in Steve's absence, so I wanted to hear some hype in the morning. Faith runs through the traffic report, there's a quick news report, and a commercial comes on to my chagrin, but I don't change the station. Instead, I think to myself, "What they shoulda played was some LL Cool J. I need to find a LL Cool J CD for my car." I swear to God again that the next commerical started talking aout the G.O.A.T. Yes, the "Greatest of All Times" will be in the A this weekend hosting a party at The Compound. I'm seriously considering going because how often do you party with a hip hop legend? Coincidence? I'm not so convinced of that anymore.

Maybe I need to start working on my psychic abilities. Maybe I'll get a vision of winning lottery numbers so I can fly away on a spaceship with Kanye. Well, I'll fly off with Kanye's idea as I count my millions. OK...I'd be good with $250,000. You ever notice how you can't stand your job and just play the lotto a little too much because you sure hope you can get lucky and have a good ass reason to leave the job? *sigh* Just maybe the right combo of numbers will come to mind.

When is this day OVA?

I finally hit "The New 20", and I'm quite content with things. However, I can't really get to deep into it because I'm stuck on the job where things have gotten more complicated and busier. This used to be such a super-easy gig! Sometimes, it made me think of staying even longer and postponing plans to start truck driving school in early March. Now, I'm tired of working so hard for these people. I get paid well and have cool colleagues..., but I'd like more money with less stress.

By the way, I've gotten myslf caught up in reading Omar Tyree. I just read "Flyy Girl" for the first time. I underestimated Omar Tyree just as I figure most readers did in the first several chapters. It was a completely easy read, but I figured it was because Omar was speaking in the voice of an 8 year old girl. As the chapters and pages went on, I began to appreciate the story and the characters. I'd recommend it. It must be good if I found a copy of the sequel, "For The Love of Money" at a friend's house and just had to have it. They'll get it back. I'm not one of those ghetto borrower's that will hold on to a book so long that I eventually convince myself that I walked into Barnes & Noble, bypassed the Cafe' and sacrificed my taste buds to go directly to the register to pay for the book. I actually no someone who let me borrow a book, and there was a pre-printed sticker with someone else's name in it. :/

............

5:34 PM

Still at work. Still looking forward to truck driving. Still at work. Still looking forward to my Kamick Time with the step sculpt class.

Sorry, folks, but I think I want hold off on talking about celebrating my 30th year. My birthday weekend was pretty cool, and I'm looking forward to more foolishness. Speaking of foolishness, the men of Iota Phi Theta Fraternity, Inc are having their national convention in my wonderful metropolis of Atlanta. How come I have a soror here who's hosting 3 Iotas at her house because she's an ever faithful Iota Sweetheart? Why will I be with her on Friday and probabaly Saturday, too? There'll be a stepshow on Friday night, and I'll be there to support the one team of my sorors stepping against 5 Delta teams. Why the hell are there 5 dang teams stepping for one org? Craziness.