The "new 20" is HERE for this young black woman, and the journey is no where near over. A lot of storytelling with some reflecting on myself and relationships, my professional life, getting in shape, and everything else that affects a single 30-something. And I'm so glad the "second puberty" of my 20s is OVA!
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.
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".
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)
12.10.2007
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...?).
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.)
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.
I'M ENGAGED!
