Consideration.
Is a very long word with lots of syllables. If you look really fast it almost looks like, Confederate. Or... constipation... or concerned. Or... Connecticut. So I could see why its meaning and stability has almost vanished from the face of the EARTH.
However..
As you know, I could live in another universe.. In fact, if I could create my own universe, different sorts of people would be sent to different planets just to learn a thing or two about themselves. Instead of mirrors and hard lessons learned, in my universe, a person might wake up to find that they had been teleported to another place where they would be surrounded by people just like them but worser. (yes i know). Anyways, this way they could grasp a concept of what its like dealing with themselves day to day.
For example...
I would probably be sent to the planet called, "Biz-Nitch" at least 4 times a year. I would experience what its like for people to be brutally honest with me despite my stupid little feelings. Every moment for an entire weekend, I would have my feelings hurt so much my life would seem like spec of cow manurer on a flies butt crack. I would be reminded that respecting others feelings is important to the overall happiness of mankind. When I returned home to my planet "Getreala" i would skip around like a small princess passing out milk duds and those ugly ass yellow flowers that grow with weeds to all of the people in my neighborhood until i started to act up again.
After leaving Biz-Nitch, right before returning home, I would then be flown off to the planet "Venus", (Yes, my universe has a Venus too), where I would know exactly what it feels like to be loved unconditionally despite my very immature and inappropriate behavior. My flaws would never be put on a shelf for viewing at some college of psychology.I would be great no matter what. I would be given a kiss for every GREAT thing I said. Including the phrase "god bless you" after sneezes. Every smile and everything that makes me such a beautiful, fabulous, skinny, perfect, and wonderful woman would go rewarded. (In Venus that's what I am , basically I'm like queen of the entire human race in Venus). I would come back home kicking every man women and child who called me negative, bitter, or showed lack of appreciation for me. For everyone else I would surprise them with Range Rovers dipped in chocolate with a cute puppy inside that had a license plate that had a cool phrase, until I would return to my state of depression where i would then be sent back to VENUS to learn to love myself once again.
you get the point.
Back to this consideration word..
Its a big word to some, irrelevant to others, but it does exist, somewhere in this insane world. Some people can be so caught up in their own little phony lives that they can't see the people who believe in them, who are actually interested in all of their bogus dreams and flaws standing in front of their face. Standing their in the street ready to stop traffic so that that person can make their way.. Putting that individual before themselves. Having enough consideration to have that person in their daily thoughts. Just right there you know? In the face. I have definitely been brushed off and kicked to the streets for some inconsiderate loser to take the place, which has lead me to also being the inconsiderate one. Yes. Perfect little me. Not because that's who I am, that would be much easier to swallow. Mostly, because so many people who walk this earth are so inconsiderate to others. Its like, ok to be that way. I have shaped my life to fit my environment I guess. Humans' humanly right of selfishness has REQUIRED me to become a down right selfish wench. A defense mechanism if you will.
I love excuses. NOT! They're so not cool , but they work, so back off!
Before you go preaching and thinking this OVER EXAGGERATED topic is me talking about myself....like, before you give me the others shouldn't dictate you and all you need is jesus, yadi yadi yadi spill....
Think of it this way. If you're a happy down home southern bell from doppity do, Alabama, and you move to new york where you reside for a couple of years, no matter what you said before.. Now you walk faster, you usually have a serious look on your face, you don't wear your favorite college team apparel to a nice restaurant anymore, you don't drink "sweet tea" as much, and you're definitely not as trusting as you use to be. Its just how the cookie crumbles.
Consideration is cool tho, because no ones doing it. Its like the whole "green planet" concept. I want to make CONSIDERATION like THE NEW THING. If we all thought about considering someones feelings, time, compassion, someone's circumstances, emotions, etc, etc., life would be better. It just would. Everyone would pick flowers from golden fields and let puppies lick their face, because life would be BETTER.
Consideration, Getcha some. I like that already.
via the dodge avenger at 330am.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Monday, February 2, 2009
My NEVER ending battle of weight loss
Once upon a time there was girl who weighed 170 pounds. Her face was round and her ass was too. So round it couldn't fit in any of her favorite jeans. Everytime she would sit down the crack of her behind would show. The entire world would believe she was a plumber in her former life. It was a sad life she lived of shame,depression, and utter defeat between her and FOOD. Pizza, bagels, mash potates, all in which would ruin 6 months of her life.
Through a series of heart break and the lack of dance performance employment, she would set a goal to lose over 40 pounds. People would whisper and say mean things about her weight loss. "She's too skinny" they would say. But she felt wonderful. THE END.
Needless to say this was a very short story about myself. But I have moved to WHACKlahoma and have gained more than enough weight to please all of the over weight people who wanted to judge. My jeans don't feel as fierce on me. I can kinda see my tummy when I look down. My cheek bones are no longer "high". Its time for a revolution in my pathetic life.
Despression is a bitch. And so is the lack of motivation put on my shoulders, because I'm surrounded by zombies in this bogus land. I'm not the type to blame people or my atmosphere. I leave that for movies like boyz in the hood and shit like that. I have to motivate myself and make changes within myself. It will be a very complicated task but vigorous in my attempts to succeed.
This post is more for myself then readers. I feel as though if I write this and follow up I will actually do it. For I know that I say I'm going to do a lot of things and never do.
I'm on a mission to lose 20 pounds as of today, Feb. 3rd, 2009. And I hope to lose it by may 3rd. Follow me on my journey to looking "sick" as my haters would say. Ill follow up each week on my thoughts of how I held up or lack of holding up. Oh dear universe, help me.
Wish me luck.
Through a series of heart break and the lack of dance performance employment, she would set a goal to lose over 40 pounds. People would whisper and say mean things about her weight loss. "She's too skinny" they would say. But she felt wonderful. THE END.
Needless to say this was a very short story about myself. But I have moved to WHACKlahoma and have gained more than enough weight to please all of the over weight people who wanted to judge. My jeans don't feel as fierce on me. I can kinda see my tummy when I look down. My cheek bones are no longer "high". Its time for a revolution in my pathetic life.
Despression is a bitch. And so is the lack of motivation put on my shoulders, because I'm surrounded by zombies in this bogus land. I'm not the type to blame people or my atmosphere. I leave that for movies like boyz in the hood and shit like that. I have to motivate myself and make changes within myself. It will be a very complicated task but vigorous in my attempts to succeed.
This post is more for myself then readers. I feel as though if I write this and follow up I will actually do it. For I know that I say I'm going to do a lot of things and never do.
I'm on a mission to lose 20 pounds as of today, Feb. 3rd, 2009. And I hope to lose it by may 3rd. Follow me on my journey to looking "sick" as my haters would say. Ill follow up each week on my thoughts of how I held up or lack of holding up. Oh dear universe, help me.
Wish me luck.
Monday, January 26, 2009
The Truth About Women: Lesson 1
I decided to start a series of truths, for and about a majority of women in todays society. Somehow men think they have us figured out. This is in fact false. There isn't the slightest bit of possibility of that even being close to even being remotely true. See, men in their simple thoughts, have allowed simple mindedness to bamboozle their simple brains. This fact, (and yes I think everything I say is in fact a fact), has led men to believe that women's ability to convey emotion without being "gay" or called a "fag", as a DEFINING characteristic of women. However, if women were in fact JUST emotional creatures, that would make women as simple as men. To all you people (men) who want evidence of this FACT, then you try carrying one 0r more children in a tiny womb for nine months. And thanks to the EVOLUTION of the modern man...
*Clears the throat
DIRT BAG, women have also learned to nurture, clothe, teach, and provide for an entire family with the weight of the world on their backs SINGLE handedly. I am standing by the FACT that women being simple beings is practically IMPOSSIBLE. Simple mindedness, has set sail, discovered a land of greed, and found a way to make men world leaders, only to destroy the very existence of man. I guess if i had to choose between that role, and being a "desperate, nagging, and emotional bitch of a human", I guess I'll choose B.
Side note: For all of you "emotional" men out there, please don't get too worked up. For I continue to the see the importance of men and their need in the lives of women and small centipedes across the universe. This post is definitely bias, and I see no need for tears.
Back to the point..
LESSON 1: Getting Laid Sooner Than Later
When a girl walks in the club her motive is no different from a thirsty man looking for a quick fix. If a guy comes up to a lady and says, "hey whats your name?" No matter what you look like you've lost cool points and now it's going to take numerous text messages, phone calls, picture mail, and dates to get laid. (YES! I said "cool points") Why? You ask. Simply because you have begun to talk, and you're saying all of the WRONG simple things. Hide your simpleness. For the sake of getting down, pretend to be something youre not. Seeing as though most women live in some fantasy land where unicorns play and men are slaves, i don't see anything wrong with pretending. If you're a guy and you know you're in fact a loser, but you still want to play as if you're on the level of LeBron then take notes. Don't say the same lame lines. Figure out what it is women want to hear. Think COMPLIMENTS first and YOU last. Read a damn Cosmo. Listen to a song or two. Beyonce' aint all over your radio airwaves and televisions for nothing. Put up that fake ass porno.
NOTE: Woman just TALK and play the "porno role" so your cheating ass won't stray. However, it takes lots of work and acting just like in the porno itself. So if WE take the conscious effort of making our encounters a good experience for you, then you should do the same.
Here are a few examples of things TO say when approaching a woman:
1. " those shoes are nice".
Girls spend lots of time on their outfits for the most part. Even if it's whack. And they do it to grab the attention of men. So do us a favor and lie dammit! If you can lie about the girl texting you being your cousin then you can lie and tell us we're fly.
2. "your smile is beautiful".
Usually a woman who is cheesing all night, is either a. drunk or b. trying to flirt. Either way, she's trying to get your attention, so acknowledge the fact.
3."What would you like to drink?".
She didn't even have to bat her lashes. She doesn't even have to play the independent role. You've already decided she's getting a drink from you and thats SEXY! No mater what you look like you can get a dimes attention with this one. Now once you open your mouth, its on you patna!
Here's what NOT TO say:
1. "i like yo ass in that dress".
Tacky and more tacky. Slow down. Geez! Creep in slowly when you start to talk about my body parts. When the time IS RIGHT, say what you'll do to them, not how they look. When it comes to a women's body she's very self-conscious about it anyway, so you're thinking you're giving her a compliment, but in fact now she thinks her ass is too big! Thanks a lot!!
2. "damn baby, whats your name".
First off its my first time meeting you, why is the first word a curse word? Secondly, my name is Xena for all i care, you've given me no reason for you to get to know me. Third, its lame. Like its the first phrase you learn in your baby spanish class, so paleeeaassse!!!
3. "What you drinkin on?"
Who gives a shit? Something some other guy bought me, so keep it movin. Whats even more gross, is after the lady tells you you say, "oh, thats cool". Now you just look cheap, and that is NOT SEXY.
Mostly, these lines are A. Cliche and B. Lame.
If you put more thought into what you say and do, you can get laid quicker than you think.
If you put more thought into what you say and do, you can get laid quicker than you think.
If you put more thought into what you say and do, you can get laid quicker than you think.
MEN: Every woman you meet is not looking for a house, 3 kids, a dog, and fence. We breathe the same air. Sometimes women don't want much out of you either. So get it together for your sake. You could be with a 10 sooner than you think! Plus, thats way cheaper than taking her out to dinner and a movie! Although, you might get a few tricks for that. HAHAHAHA!
Men or women, if you have 3 things to say or not to say when approaching women, let us know!
*Clears the throat
DIRT BAG, women have also learned to nurture, clothe, teach, and provide for an entire family with the weight of the world on their backs SINGLE handedly. I am standing by the FACT that women being simple beings is practically IMPOSSIBLE. Simple mindedness, has set sail, discovered a land of greed, and found a way to make men world leaders, only to destroy the very existence of man. I guess if i had to choose between that role, and being a "desperate, nagging, and emotional bitch of a human", I guess I'll choose B.
Side note: For all of you "emotional" men out there, please don't get too worked up. For I continue to the see the importance of men and their need in the lives of women and small centipedes across the universe. This post is definitely bias, and I see no need for tears.
Back to the point..
LESSON 1: Getting Laid Sooner Than Later
When a girl walks in the club her motive is no different from a thirsty man looking for a quick fix. If a guy comes up to a lady and says, "hey whats your name?" No matter what you look like you've lost cool points and now it's going to take numerous text messages, phone calls, picture mail, and dates to get laid. (YES! I said "cool points") Why? You ask. Simply because you have begun to talk, and you're saying all of the WRONG simple things. Hide your simpleness. For the sake of getting down, pretend to be something youre not. Seeing as though most women live in some fantasy land where unicorns play and men are slaves, i don't see anything wrong with pretending. If you're a guy and you know you're in fact a loser, but you still want to play as if you're on the level of LeBron then take notes. Don't say the same lame lines. Figure out what it is women want to hear. Think COMPLIMENTS first and YOU last. Read a damn Cosmo. Listen to a song or two. Beyonce' aint all over your radio airwaves and televisions for nothing. Put up that fake ass porno.
NOTE: Woman just TALK and play the "porno role" so your cheating ass won't stray. However, it takes lots of work and acting just like in the porno itself. So if WE take the conscious effort of making our encounters a good experience for you, then you should do the same.
Here are a few examples of things TO say when approaching a woman:
1. " those shoes are nice".
Girls spend lots of time on their outfits for the most part. Even if it's whack. And they do it to grab the attention of men. So do us a favor and lie dammit! If you can lie about the girl texting you being your cousin then you can lie and tell us we're fly.
2. "your smile is beautiful".
Usually a woman who is cheesing all night, is either a. drunk or b. trying to flirt. Either way, she's trying to get your attention, so acknowledge the fact.
3."What would you like to drink?".
She didn't even have to bat her lashes. She doesn't even have to play the independent role. You've already decided she's getting a drink from you and thats SEXY! No mater what you look like you can get a dimes attention with this one. Now once you open your mouth, its on you patna!
Here's what NOT TO say:
1. "i like yo ass in that dress".
Tacky and more tacky. Slow down. Geez! Creep in slowly when you start to talk about my body parts. When the time IS RIGHT, say what you'll do to them, not how they look. When it comes to a women's body she's very self-conscious about it anyway, so you're thinking you're giving her a compliment, but in fact now she thinks her ass is too big! Thanks a lot!!
2. "damn baby, whats your name".
First off its my first time meeting you, why is the first word a curse word? Secondly, my name is Xena for all i care, you've given me no reason for you to get to know me. Third, its lame. Like its the first phrase you learn in your baby spanish class, so paleeeaassse!!!
3. "What you drinkin on?"
Who gives a shit? Something some other guy bought me, so keep it movin. Whats even more gross, is after the lady tells you you say, "oh, thats cool". Now you just look cheap, and that is NOT SEXY.
Mostly, these lines are A. Cliche and B. Lame.
If you put more thought into what you say and do, you can get laid quicker than you think.
If you put more thought into what you say and do, you can get laid quicker than you think.
If you put more thought into what you say and do, you can get laid quicker than you think.
MEN: Every woman you meet is not looking for a house, 3 kids, a dog, and fence. We breathe the same air. Sometimes women don't want much out of you either. So get it together for your sake. You could be with a 10 sooner than you think! Plus, thats way cheaper than taking her out to dinner and a movie! Although, you might get a few tricks for that. HAHAHAHA!
Men or women, if you have 3 things to say or not to say when approaching women, let us know!
Monday, January 12, 2009
Healing...
So here it is a new year and it seems that its been a year since my last post. I'm back! Thanks to a friend and their much needed inspiration, im in attempts to keep it current.
Here's to a start of a new blog... HEALING
Break-ups are as traumatizing as some fucked up kid going to school and shattering the lives of not so innocent kids in hopes to prove to their peers that their lives aren't as minuscule as their peers made their lives to be. Like when you hear about those shoot-outs on the news, you feel bad for those kids who were shot, but something in your measly heart also is sympathetic to the shooters. like you can see how someone can get to their last straw..... BAD break-ups are like being shot 25 times in the thigh, stabbed 14 times in the right foot, being hung by your eyelid, falling from the 8th floor, breaking both legs and arms, getting your teeth knocked out, and no longer being able to speak without a special machine, and still managing to survive through it all. Yes really i'm that drama. It will take awhile to get back to the old you. Maybe a couple of surgeries. Thousands of dollars in debt. Your life flashing before your eyes over and over again. Depression. Hopelessness. Lots of medication. Very experienced specialists in law, medicine, psychiatry, and illegal substances . Support from your closest and most adored family and friends. Loneliness. Shattered dreams. Etc. Etc. Unfortunately, through all of the nonsense...Unfortunately, you will survive.
There is no source for measuring your healing process. It may be years, days, seconds, months.. You can even measure your healing with the massive amounts of cookies and cakes you will consume. Or even countless fill-in boyfriends or girlfriends, shots, blunts, articles of clothing, or hours spent in the gym. Once you figure out how your soul heals, you will then trail down a pathetic path of trying to find your self worth , and just getting to know who you are. Like rebirth so to speak. Because after a bad break-up you will become a new person. If you thought you were Tasha before, you are kidding yourself.. Now you are Sasha, the warrior and fighter for all of the squirrels of the Mongolian Jungles. Hopefully for you,during the walk down the desperate road, there is a very dim light.
This new year im hopeful. Which is great because last year it was like a power outage in Las Vegas. It was like, Nightmare on Elm Street, but i was just like the tree in the dark woods. I couldnt even be chased, or scared out of mind, or even murdered. Just in the background, mad because I wasnt in the movie. This year will be one of hope, i see the very very very Dim light. (basically trying to fool myself at this point). But seeing the very small, tiny light is like HUGE. Its like the difference between a 7 and an 8 on a males rating scale of women. (thanks to a very cool friend who put that in perspective for me, i can use that as reference to life). HOPE and HEAL. Both words should meet each other at a mall food court, fall in love instantly, and make love every night until they have lots of kids, and name them RICHard, HAPPYonia, LAUGHtrosha, and SoFUNia . Like I swear i would babysit for free!
Im just trying to sew it up this year. Get it together and keep it that way.
Basically, every post will consist of my sorry attempts to do so.
IM BACK BITCHES!
Here's to a start of a new blog... HEALING
Break-ups are as traumatizing as some fucked up kid going to school and shattering the lives of not so innocent kids in hopes to prove to their peers that their lives aren't as minuscule as their peers made their lives to be. Like when you hear about those shoot-outs on the news, you feel bad for those kids who were shot, but something in your measly heart also is sympathetic to the shooters. like you can see how someone can get to their last straw..... BAD break-ups are like being shot 25 times in the thigh, stabbed 14 times in the right foot, being hung by your eyelid, falling from the 8th floor, breaking both legs and arms, getting your teeth knocked out, and no longer being able to speak without a special machine, and still managing to survive through it all. Yes really i'm that drama. It will take awhile to get back to the old you. Maybe a couple of surgeries. Thousands of dollars in debt. Your life flashing before your eyes over and over again. Depression. Hopelessness. Lots of medication. Very experienced specialists in law, medicine, psychiatry, and illegal substances . Support from your closest and most adored family and friends. Loneliness. Shattered dreams. Etc. Etc. Unfortunately, through all of the nonsense...Unfortunately, you will survive.
There is no source for measuring your healing process. It may be years, days, seconds, months.. You can even measure your healing with the massive amounts of cookies and cakes you will consume. Or even countless fill-in boyfriends or girlfriends, shots, blunts, articles of clothing, or hours spent in the gym. Once you figure out how your soul heals, you will then trail down a pathetic path of trying to find your self worth , and just getting to know who you are. Like rebirth so to speak. Because after a bad break-up you will become a new person. If you thought you were Tasha before, you are kidding yourself.. Now you are Sasha, the warrior and fighter for all of the squirrels of the Mongolian Jungles. Hopefully for you,during the walk down the desperate road, there is a very dim light.
This new year im hopeful. Which is great because last year it was like a power outage in Las Vegas. It was like, Nightmare on Elm Street, but i was just like the tree in the dark woods. I couldnt even be chased, or scared out of mind, or even murdered. Just in the background, mad because I wasnt in the movie. This year will be one of hope, i see the very very very Dim light. (basically trying to fool myself at this point). But seeing the very small, tiny light is like HUGE. Its like the difference between a 7 and an 8 on a males rating scale of women. (thanks to a very cool friend who put that in perspective for me, i can use that as reference to life). HOPE and HEAL. Both words should meet each other at a mall food court, fall in love instantly, and make love every night until they have lots of kids, and name them RICHard, HAPPYonia, LAUGHtrosha, and SoFUNia . Like I swear i would babysit for free!
Im just trying to sew it up this year. Get it together and keep it that way.
Basically, every post will consist of my sorry attempts to do so.
IM BACK BITCHES!
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
I guess I cant
People always ask me, "So... How was it being on So You Think You Can Dance?" Usually I always respond with the same old bullshit, "It was a really great experience." I use to say, "It was a really great opportunity." But that would be a flat out lie, and I'm usually not that great at pretending things are just alright, so I quit saying that shit about 3 years ago.
So this blog is dedicated to the many strangers, friends, and even relatives, who ever wanted to know how I REALLY feel about my experience on the show. This is going to be a lot and its also going to be very personal, so please beware. These thoughts have never been spoken and have always been kept in a very deep dark and lonely dungeon somewhere in the back of my hollow mind. I'm taking a chance if you will.
Now my memory can get somewhat crumbled, much like the shit you see at the bottom of a potato chip sack, but Ill do my best to remember the series of events.
Emily, (my good friend/boss lady), either called me or text me one day and told me about a dance show that no one really knew much about, because it would be the first of its kind and the producers didn't really have an idea of the entire synopsis. I'm pretty sure it was a call, because I didn't have a sidekick then, and who wants to text without a sidekick? Really. All anyone knew is that it was for dancers, it was a competition something similar to American Idol, and it was an open door for dancers to shine, because finally there would be a spotlight on a dancer and not some lame artist. Now she had heard about it from one of our mutual friends who would be auditioning as well.
Not really having an idea of what I would be diving myself into, (and I mean ALL of myself, like literally), I scraped up enough change to fly to the LA audition. I slapped together some lame ass combo i did days before and called it my "solo" if you will. I went to LA, stood outside like the other idiots for several hours, and waited for it to be my turn. We all waited in that big room, checking out the competition, practicing, most of us dodging the camera, due to shows like, The Real World and Survivor, trying to keep ourselves from being exploited in some way. We were clueless, but all waiting around hoping that some way we could use this opportunity to become history in dance.
My group comes up next. I'm standing in the half circle waiting on my turn to freestyle. I think they are about to play... Surely not... The damn Blackeyed Peas. Not them again. I put on my dancing shoes, kick and turn my big ass around as if my last name depended on it. YES!! I got the go!! I get to go to the left with the group of people who didn't get cut. NEXT STEP. Solo round. I'm so nervous. Ive never had to do a solo. not like a good one, that competition kids do. You know? Where someone teaches them a routine, they have private lessons on it all year, and then compete it enough times to be able to really understand the meaning of progression in one's self. I'm nervous. But in the back of my mind, something is telling me, I'm suppose to be on this show and no matter how good all the "practiced soloists" are, I'm going to be on T.V.. I'm still nervous. I have on a polo shirt and some cut off sweats. Meaning: I look a damn mess. Ok. Its my turn now. The sounds of the fake ass harp that plays before Fantasia sings, "If you don't want me then don't talk to me." I dance. It was whack. I was terrible. I hate my mom for even having sex with my father at this point. For two reasons, mainly because the thought of it is gross and secondly because I was born. inappropriate? Yes. The old ugly guy who they claim is the reason for American Idols existence says, "You look a little heavy. Do you think that is why it looked so hard for you to dance up there?" My eyes are about to swell up with tears. I told Eric's ass that I was getting way too big, and he told me that i looked fine. That I was just thick, and that's how I'm suppose to look. Guys like it, its sexy. Damn Pizza Shuttle!! But I don't let any tears fall, I don't want the cameras to see that I'm weak, hell i don't want the judges to see. But the other two non-dancing ass British judges say I can stay, and 2 is better than 1. NEXT STEP. Partnering and choreography. I have this in the bag. I changed my pants to some shorts Kelsey had of her brothers, thinking that if they are baggier the judges won't think I'm so fat. I MADE IT!!
I go back to Oklahoma, I diet a little. Try to gather up some costumes of students, because I don't have enough money to buy a dance wardrobe for me to wear while I'm on the show. I'm feeling good though. I have packed up every item i ever had in life, including my bably blanket and head out to LA, to compete with the TOP 50. I enter the room and their are a room full of artists. Good or bad, I was intimidated. It's different being a dancer in Oklahoma, theres only a few, and sometimes the pond can seem really comfortable for a playa ass shark like me. But here, everyone is like me. sacrificing. breathing dance. trying to make it to the TOP. A week of hell. Dancing 8 hours a day, and feeling judged every second. As if my life was on the line every moment. But like anything, I made it through!!
Now there I was, apart of the TOP 16 of whatever the show was going to be called. I, Destini Rogers, from Oklahoma, who's dance teachers wouldnt give a second glance at, was apart of the TOP. We all meet and greet. KeKe LaLaing... We are then instructed to take pictures for the website, and film dancing for the opening credits, that are still playing this day. and I realized something.. I'm the biggest person, besides ALLEN on the show. All of the girls are all super skinny. They re all wearing hot pants, and I'm wearing one of my student's costumes that is slightly too small and frankly looks a hot mess on me. I had tried on 15 different things, but nothing seem to be as stylish as everyone else and it surely didn't define my personal style and who i was. i didn't feel like I was Destini at all.
This was it.
THE moment.
At that moment.. I knew that I had been defeated. The bright light that was in my heart at the audition, was dim, and damn near blown away by the quick feet of the talented dancers who I thought would walk all over me. I stayed strong, tried my best to show that I was strong and confident. But when I look back at that picture we took that day that was on the website.. The head shot for my bio. I could see that moment in my eyes. Just a look of despair and sadness. I have no money, I have no clothes, I have no dance style to call my own, I'm fat, and I'm black. At that moment, the show had become a chore, not a competition, because I knew that I couldn't compete. This had become something I had to finish out, like the last place person in the race. The problem with myself is that I am my own worst critic. I know my mistakes, but when I looked in the mirror to make corrections, It wasn't just one teacher standing there telling me what it was I needed to fix, it was 13 million viewers a night!!!!
Friends told me everyone back home was so proud. they were even having viewing parties. My family, was so proud. I had cousins crawling from the wood works of hell calling to wish me look. Sometimes when people would call me, write me, or send me emails, I wouldn't even respond. Because during that time of my life I was at my weakest and loneliest moments. No fans. No ridiculous signs or posters. No family. No real friends. They all seemed so far away. I think my stomach felt the same way it would feel if someone would have called and told me my mother died. Meanwhile, I was moving up and up. Every ones smiling in each others face, putting on a show for the T.V., but we've all made up in our minds who we think is horrible and doesn't deserve to be on the show. Were all secretly hoping each other gets the boot. Finding clever ways to make the audience love us. Throwing up little hand signals during the part they show the 1800 numbers, begging viewers to send the calls our way. We were dancing 8 hours a day. Fighting with our partners while trying to hold it together for America. Sandra's gone. Snow.Now I am up for termination. Me and jamile's so called great hip hop number wasn't impressive enough. Melody and I are up for termination, this being Melody's 3rd time.
I didn't even say a prayer. I knew it was my time. People ask me, "You were pissed, because you knew you and Jamile's hip hop dance was good, and you shouldn't have been in the bottom?" I usually smile and say yes. But really I was upset at myself. Just for not being the best I could be. I mean I could blame it on all of the things like, always working and not having enough time to take class, never having time to work out, or being able to do things for myself to better myself and being more prepared for the show. But it just wasn't my time and I figured there probably wont be another. So to answer that question, no I wasn't mad because of that, I'm mad cause I was defeated. By own self.. I was voted off the next day.
The conclusion of my FEELINGS about the show..
I met a lot of really awesome people. I made a lot of friends. I got to do things a lot of people cant say they've done. Even now, dancers I feel are brilliant, haven't made it that far. Every now and again someone recognizes me from the show and they hit me up on myspace or notice me in the mall. That is always rewarding. But my heart..
I feel like the show gave a very immature and very watered down definition of who I really am. I always come across to people as a bitch and that I have a slight attitude problem and for the most part I do. I even throw that bad side of me up first just to keep anyone who will hurt me afraid and away from me. This mechanism will work in the real world but on TV it doesnt. First impressions are important, Destini!! I thought I was a little bit more complex then the Destini, on So You Think You Can Dance. Most people don't even know that I'm a pretty good dancer, let alone a dancer that can do more than just hip hop, most people don't even know that I'm a pretty creative choreographer, most viewers don't even know I exist, and I think that in the end, the show and I just had a really really bad break up. I can't even look at his picture anymore. I threw them all away. Even the ones, with just me in them. I don't even wanna see myself in a picture that was taken the time he and I were together. Now even his friends refuse to talk to me, even after, we had so many laughs. They wont even look my way. I cant even talk to his mom without wanting to cry. And the thought of what we could have been is what kills me the most. And I'm still holding on to it. I sometimes question if just maybe that Destini is really just that Destini. I'm lost. even after all of this time. I really don't even know who I am anymore. How do you get any higher than that? Where do I go from here? With no fulfillment. How do I fight to regain my dignity? When I still have so much to learn and do. people don't understand, until they get to that place. A place where you feel like an ultimate failure. I mean I still live life everyday. Acting like I know God has a plan for me...
So honestly, how i feel is.. FUCK SO YOU THINK YOU CAN DANCE!! It ruined my life. So don't ask me anymore, especially while I'm at work trying to get this cheese, and not somewhere famous, where I should be! Jerk!
So this blog is dedicated to the many strangers, friends, and even relatives, who ever wanted to know how I REALLY feel about my experience on the show. This is going to be a lot and its also going to be very personal, so please beware. These thoughts have never been spoken and have always been kept in a very deep dark and lonely dungeon somewhere in the back of my hollow mind. I'm taking a chance if you will.
Now my memory can get somewhat crumbled, much like the shit you see at the bottom of a potato chip sack, but Ill do my best to remember the series of events.
Emily, (my good friend/boss lady), either called me or text me one day and told me about a dance show that no one really knew much about, because it would be the first of its kind and the producers didn't really have an idea of the entire synopsis. I'm pretty sure it was a call, because I didn't have a sidekick then, and who wants to text without a sidekick? Really. All anyone knew is that it was for dancers, it was a competition something similar to American Idol, and it was an open door for dancers to shine, because finally there would be a spotlight on a dancer and not some lame artist. Now she had heard about it from one of our mutual friends who would be auditioning as well.
Not really having an idea of what I would be diving myself into, (and I mean ALL of myself, like literally), I scraped up enough change to fly to the LA audition. I slapped together some lame ass combo i did days before and called it my "solo" if you will. I went to LA, stood outside like the other idiots for several hours, and waited for it to be my turn. We all waited in that big room, checking out the competition, practicing, most of us dodging the camera, due to shows like, The Real World and Survivor, trying to keep ourselves from being exploited in some way. We were clueless, but all waiting around hoping that some way we could use this opportunity to become history in dance.
My group comes up next. I'm standing in the half circle waiting on my turn to freestyle. I think they are about to play... Surely not... The damn Blackeyed Peas. Not them again. I put on my dancing shoes, kick and turn my big ass around as if my last name depended on it. YES!! I got the go!! I get to go to the left with the group of people who didn't get cut. NEXT STEP. Solo round. I'm so nervous. Ive never had to do a solo. not like a good one, that competition kids do. You know? Where someone teaches them a routine, they have private lessons on it all year, and then compete it enough times to be able to really understand the meaning of progression in one's self. I'm nervous. But in the back of my mind, something is telling me, I'm suppose to be on this show and no matter how good all the "practiced soloists" are, I'm going to be on T.V.. I'm still nervous. I have on a polo shirt and some cut off sweats. Meaning: I look a damn mess. Ok. Its my turn now. The sounds of the fake ass harp that plays before Fantasia sings, "If you don't want me then don't talk to me." I dance. It was whack. I was terrible. I hate my mom for even having sex with my father at this point. For two reasons, mainly because the thought of it is gross and secondly because I was born. inappropriate? Yes. The old ugly guy who they claim is the reason for American Idols existence says, "You look a little heavy. Do you think that is why it looked so hard for you to dance up there?" My eyes are about to swell up with tears. I told Eric's ass that I was getting way too big, and he told me that i looked fine. That I was just thick, and that's how I'm suppose to look. Guys like it, its sexy. Damn Pizza Shuttle!! But I don't let any tears fall, I don't want the cameras to see that I'm weak, hell i don't want the judges to see. But the other two non-dancing ass British judges say I can stay, and 2 is better than 1. NEXT STEP. Partnering and choreography. I have this in the bag. I changed my pants to some shorts Kelsey had of her brothers, thinking that if they are baggier the judges won't think I'm so fat. I MADE IT!!
I go back to Oklahoma, I diet a little. Try to gather up some costumes of students, because I don't have enough money to buy a dance wardrobe for me to wear while I'm on the show. I'm feeling good though. I have packed up every item i ever had in life, including my bably blanket and head out to LA, to compete with the TOP 50. I enter the room and their are a room full of artists. Good or bad, I was intimidated. It's different being a dancer in Oklahoma, theres only a few, and sometimes the pond can seem really comfortable for a playa ass shark like me. But here, everyone is like me. sacrificing. breathing dance. trying to make it to the TOP. A week of hell. Dancing 8 hours a day, and feeling judged every second. As if my life was on the line every moment. But like anything, I made it through!!
Now there I was, apart of the TOP 16 of whatever the show was going to be called. I, Destini Rogers, from Oklahoma, who's dance teachers wouldnt give a second glance at, was apart of the TOP. We all meet and greet. KeKe LaLaing... We are then instructed to take pictures for the website, and film dancing for the opening credits, that are still playing this day. and I realized something.. I'm the biggest person, besides ALLEN on the show. All of the girls are all super skinny. They re all wearing hot pants, and I'm wearing one of my student's costumes that is slightly too small and frankly looks a hot mess on me. I had tried on 15 different things, but nothing seem to be as stylish as everyone else and it surely didn't define my personal style and who i was. i didn't feel like I was Destini at all.
This was it.
THE moment.
At that moment.. I knew that I had been defeated. The bright light that was in my heart at the audition, was dim, and damn near blown away by the quick feet of the talented dancers who I thought would walk all over me. I stayed strong, tried my best to show that I was strong and confident. But when I look back at that picture we took that day that was on the website.. The head shot for my bio. I could see that moment in my eyes. Just a look of despair and sadness. I have no money, I have no clothes, I have no dance style to call my own, I'm fat, and I'm black. At that moment, the show had become a chore, not a competition, because I knew that I couldn't compete. This had become something I had to finish out, like the last place person in the race. The problem with myself is that I am my own worst critic. I know my mistakes, but when I looked in the mirror to make corrections, It wasn't just one teacher standing there telling me what it was I needed to fix, it was 13 million viewers a night!!!!
Friends told me everyone back home was so proud. they were even having viewing parties. My family, was so proud. I had cousins crawling from the wood works of hell calling to wish me look. Sometimes when people would call me, write me, or send me emails, I wouldn't even respond. Because during that time of my life I was at my weakest and loneliest moments. No fans. No ridiculous signs or posters. No family. No real friends. They all seemed so far away. I think my stomach felt the same way it would feel if someone would have called and told me my mother died. Meanwhile, I was moving up and up. Every ones smiling in each others face, putting on a show for the T.V., but we've all made up in our minds who we think is horrible and doesn't deserve to be on the show. Were all secretly hoping each other gets the boot. Finding clever ways to make the audience love us. Throwing up little hand signals during the part they show the 1800 numbers, begging viewers to send the calls our way. We were dancing 8 hours a day. Fighting with our partners while trying to hold it together for America. Sandra's gone. Snow.Now I am up for termination. Me and jamile's so called great hip hop number wasn't impressive enough. Melody and I are up for termination, this being Melody's 3rd time.
I didn't even say a prayer. I knew it was my time. People ask me, "You were pissed, because you knew you and Jamile's hip hop dance was good, and you shouldn't have been in the bottom?" I usually smile and say yes. But really I was upset at myself. Just for not being the best I could be. I mean I could blame it on all of the things like, always working and not having enough time to take class, never having time to work out, or being able to do things for myself to better myself and being more prepared for the show. But it just wasn't my time and I figured there probably wont be another. So to answer that question, no I wasn't mad because of that, I'm mad cause I was defeated. By own self.. I was voted off the next day.
The conclusion of my FEELINGS about the show..
I met a lot of really awesome people. I made a lot of friends. I got to do things a lot of people cant say they've done. Even now, dancers I feel are brilliant, haven't made it that far. Every now and again someone recognizes me from the show and they hit me up on myspace or notice me in the mall. That is always rewarding. But my heart..
I feel like the show gave a very immature and very watered down definition of who I really am. I always come across to people as a bitch and that I have a slight attitude problem and for the most part I do. I even throw that bad side of me up first just to keep anyone who will hurt me afraid and away from me. This mechanism will work in the real world but on TV it doesnt. First impressions are important, Destini!! I thought I was a little bit more complex then the Destini, on So You Think You Can Dance. Most people don't even know that I'm a pretty good dancer, let alone a dancer that can do more than just hip hop, most people don't even know that I'm a pretty creative choreographer, most viewers don't even know I exist, and I think that in the end, the show and I just had a really really bad break up. I can't even look at his picture anymore. I threw them all away. Even the ones, with just me in them. I don't even wanna see myself in a picture that was taken the time he and I were together. Now even his friends refuse to talk to me, even after, we had so many laughs. They wont even look my way. I cant even talk to his mom without wanting to cry. And the thought of what we could have been is what kills me the most. And I'm still holding on to it. I sometimes question if just maybe that Destini is really just that Destini. I'm lost. even after all of this time. I really don't even know who I am anymore. How do you get any higher than that? Where do I go from here? With no fulfillment. How do I fight to regain my dignity? When I still have so much to learn and do. people don't understand, until they get to that place. A place where you feel like an ultimate failure. I mean I still live life everyday. Acting like I know God has a plan for me...
So honestly, how i feel is.. FUCK SO YOU THINK YOU CAN DANCE!! It ruined my life. So don't ask me anymore, especially while I'm at work trying to get this cheese, and not somewhere famous, where I should be! Jerk!
Monday, May 12, 2008
Drip Drop Roof Top
The rain today was pouring down like the EXPERIENCES of my life pouring down on my back. Luckily, I've been blessed with a life of circumstance, so needless to say my deltoids look similar to a tonka truck. When I think about life...
*now thinking.hmmmm. Hand is on the chin. Thumb is moving side to side. Right. Left. Right and left.
Our life, our souls, our experiences, our mood, our happiness revolves around the universe. Our lives change like the weather. People take shape in our lives, floating in and out. Some move fast with the vast winds, others are spread thin, vanishing in our blue skies. Some are consistant, showing their many faces in every season. Some skies are beautiful, some are grey. Wall clouds are sometimes formed just to help us find patience in the storms.
Our dreams are as distant as the stars. The glow can seem so dim and hopeless, yet its mystery can seem so aspiring. The speed of life can be defeating but the calm night skies can give us a moment to breathe. deep. They say after every tornado there is a clear and calm sky. Leaving hope that maybe those shooting stars arent so far.
*thinking again, so it might get dangerous.
I don't think "they" say that though. Therefore, I'm pretty sure I just made that up.
*fresh off the high
Back to this rain shit.
I just love the sounds that come with a package of rainy days. Drops hitting the window, water splashing against the cars, the sounds of a great movie. Makes me wanna crawl in bed next to something soft and hard with matching socks. Makes me wanna stand in the middle of the street and yell out profanity to the tops of my lungs. It makes me wanna say, "fuck you world, I spell my name with an I not a Y!" I just wanna lay in it. Waddle in it. Make lemonade with it. Every drip drop, is like a baby clown with a great joke to tell, tickling my kneck with his baby chin. Let the rain drops trickle down my face and ill pretend they were tears from my eyes. Or maybe I won't be pretending. Walk around in my muddy steel toe boots and splash in puddles, in hopes that it hits one of those fuckin stupid ass soccer moms with the big SUVs. I just want to sit in my room listen to tracy chapman and smoke something, while watching life pass me by. "I got a fast car, I wanna take you to anywhere". Sometimes I take a shower so long the water turns cold just so I can have a rainy day. Rainy days make time seem as if its in slow motion. I don't give a fuck on a rainy day. For others, days like those seems so sad and grey. But to me, its just another day to stop and think about all of the sunny days that will come after. Its like hot sweaty sex! Even Dr. Suess could see the greatness in a rainy day.
"Everytime it rains
I know its good to be alive.
Everytime it rains
I know I'm trying to survive"
-Charlotte Martin
I don't really know what any of this means, maybe you could tell me.
Ha.
*now thinking.hmmmm. Hand is on the chin. Thumb is moving side to side. Right. Left. Right and left.
Our life, our souls, our experiences, our mood, our happiness revolves around the universe. Our lives change like the weather. People take shape in our lives, floating in and out. Some move fast with the vast winds, others are spread thin, vanishing in our blue skies. Some are consistant, showing their many faces in every season. Some skies are beautiful, some are grey. Wall clouds are sometimes formed just to help us find patience in the storms.
Our dreams are as distant as the stars. The glow can seem so dim and hopeless, yet its mystery can seem so aspiring. The speed of life can be defeating but the calm night skies can give us a moment to breathe. deep. They say after every tornado there is a clear and calm sky. Leaving hope that maybe those shooting stars arent so far.
*thinking again, so it might get dangerous.
I don't think "they" say that though. Therefore, I'm pretty sure I just made that up.
*fresh off the high
Back to this rain shit.
I just love the sounds that come with a package of rainy days. Drops hitting the window, water splashing against the cars, the sounds of a great movie. Makes me wanna crawl in bed next to something soft and hard with matching socks. Makes me wanna stand in the middle of the street and yell out profanity to the tops of my lungs. It makes me wanna say, "fuck you world, I spell my name with an I not a Y!" I just wanna lay in it. Waddle in it. Make lemonade with it. Every drip drop, is like a baby clown with a great joke to tell, tickling my kneck with his baby chin. Let the rain drops trickle down my face and ill pretend they were tears from my eyes. Or maybe I won't be pretending. Walk around in my muddy steel toe boots and splash in puddles, in hopes that it hits one of those fuckin stupid ass soccer moms with the big SUVs. I just want to sit in my room listen to tracy chapman and smoke something, while watching life pass me by. "I got a fast car, I wanna take you to anywhere". Sometimes I take a shower so long the water turns cold just so I can have a rainy day. Rainy days make time seem as if its in slow motion. I don't give a fuck on a rainy day. For others, days like those seems so sad and grey. But to me, its just another day to stop and think about all of the sunny days that will come after. Its like hot sweaty sex! Even Dr. Suess could see the greatness in a rainy day.
"Everytime it rains
I know its good to be alive.
Everytime it rains
I know I'm trying to survive"
-Charlotte Martin
I don't really know what any of this means, maybe you could tell me.
Ha.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
MY PEOPLE, MY PEOPLE: A Myth Can Be Your Bitch
As I walk through this life and all of its vast amounts of EXPERIENCE it throws my way, i want to be OBSERVANT and working hard towards mastering the true meaning of LIVING. I guess if I werent gaining any knowledge my name would be OJ Simpson, or Sara; a college girl apart of the PLUTO Cast of The Real World, who is yet another person moving into the house, engaged, and walking out single and with a new sexually transmitted disease.I mean every season theres at least one of those. So stupid.
Irregardless...
Just a thought
For some foolish reason, I have always been the type of black woman who only dates black men. I guess living in (joke)lahoma somewhat kept me to "stay" and not to "stray", if you will. I mean black women arent a high commodity around these parts.In Oklahoma, it seems to me that there is an unspoken rule that everyone should stick to their kind. That rule only applying to black women and white men. Ive gathered that other women would say they dont date outside of their race because they feel they OWE something to our black men. Some may say attraction is at question. Somehow theyve made up in their minds that only black men have the power to appeal to 2 or more senses. Maybe the stares, grunts, and whispers arent too appealing either. Dont get me wrong, there are black women STRAY, and actually would prefer to. But maybe the truth lies behind the idea that a REAL black woman, oh wait.. before i go further let me give a you a "definition quickie" of a REAL BLACK WOMAN from my EXPERIENCE DICTIONARY.
Real Black Woman noun an african american woman whos ancestors were slaves, with no real knowledge of any other ethnicity other than african decent. Who checks the box African American when filling out the ethnicity portion of an application. Who may or may not have "good hair". Women of various colors, shapes, and sizes. You can find being exploited on your average music video of any kind and "The Maury Show".
Ok now back to the reguarly scheduled program.
....the idea of a REAL black woman ever being physically, financially, mentally, (sane)cially, (def being of sanity), notloudicially,(def to have the ability to shut your damn mouth), and intellectually EQUAL TO non-black women in America does not exist. I call this idea the, Video Vixen Effect. (This idea will be discussed further in another blog). I'm sure that women of other ethnicities would argue that they too feel that this idea exist within their culture. For example, Asian women are known for there beautifully slanted eyes. It is a feature that defines the anatomy and history of the Asian culture. But when Asian women apply make-up to their eyes they dont get the same shading affect as an Italian woman or a black woman would. Some Asian women get surgery on their eyes that tucks the skin of the the eyelid inward so that there is a crease created to give dimension to the eye. Their feeling of inferiority has played such a role in their lives, that they question the very thing that makes them unique in this world. Please take note that I dont think this idea of inferiority only lies in the black community, but in this blog, Im being selfish and will be discussing this idea in terms of black women.
Hypothetical very short story time.
*Reading Rainbow theme song plays*
You're 8. You go to Miss Stephens' 3rd grade class every morning and see that only you and 1 other girl has hair like you. The EXPERIENCE of learning begins. You're CURIOUS and mind is of wonder, as you make your way home after school while humming the tunes of "Superwoman" by Karen White. You walk into the kitchen, "Mama", you say. "Can I please wear my hair down tomorrow for school?". Your mom's heart begins to break when she has to look you in those big brown eyes and tell you, "No girl. You aint no white girl, now go play with your dolls or something". You do as told, and play with your Barbies, only to look at her and see that even the doll, that appears to look like you, has long straight her, a pointy nose, and a flat ass. You hate her, because for some reason you cant understand why she is darker than you and you still don't feel like you can relate. So you watch T.V, you know, Rainbow Bright, Care Bears, Shera, Smurfs, shit like that. OBSERVANT as you are, you notice that NOT a single character looks, sounds, or experiences anything that surrounds you. You will later learn that you will experience this throughout your life, and forced to deal with media that won't show POSITIVE images of women who look like you.
And this is where the EXPERIENCE of anger and confusion begins.
The real reason I wrote this blog.
I had an EXPERIENCE that made me more OBSERVANT than ever. I went to a club one night with a friend. Now we are both dancers and we love to go out, drink, and dance to all types of music, so this club was pretty diverse. I was looking great as usual, because really theres no other options, smelling good, just got paid from one of the 3 jobs I hold, so feeling good too. The DJ is playing Cherry Pie, and thats my cue to take a cigarette break. Im standing there minding my own business when this guy comes up to me, which is the first since I got to the club 2 hours ago. "Hey miss lady" he says. "You sure are looking good tonight". I smile, tell him thanks for the compliment, because I am a lady and do enjoy a compliment every now and then. He continues the conversation by saying, "you sure look good, but you need to put that cigarette down". I don't exactly know why but I become overwhelmingly angry inside. I argue with him a little trying to justify the fact that Im a fuckin' adult, capable of making decisions, good or bad on my own, and why his opinion means nothing to me. Needless to say he moves around. A guy Ive known for years was there as well. We exchange greetings and catch up a little. He's good, Im good. After 2 minutes of small talk he also proceeds to tell me I shouldnt be smoking cigarettes. "It's not cute", he says. At this point I'm ready to close my tab and go home. After this EXPERIENCE, I start seeing a trend in black men when in a club atmosphere. A.not too many holla at me, unless they're scum and really have nothing to loose.B. If they do decide to dance with you they have a need to touch on my body. Disgusting. C. They feel that a black woman who smokes cigarettes should be told that they shouldnt smoke cigarettes.
One day it hit me. My EXPERIENCE as a child, has left me with a sense of inferiority. Overlooked and disrespected by society. Which could explain the deeply rooted feeling of anger and loneliness. I dont deserve to feel this way. I have a lot to give to this world. So Im putting my foot down on all of this nonsense. Because I think there is some confusion as to the place of black women in our own community and in this world. Im disgusted, that we as black women have allowed society to think, disrespect, and talk of us as if were meaningless creatures who are automatically born at the bottom of the food chain. MY BROTHER, I have a few concerns that needs to be addressed.
Here's where the myths play a role in this blog.
1.Black women shouldnt wear make-up because they dont need it.
Is this some egotistical way for you to keep us looking like we just woke up so some other man wont talk to us? No matter what color you are you should wear make up. Im not saying throw blue eyeshadow all over your face, but make up is used to enhance features you already have. If you work at a place where you have to come in contact with lots of people this is a must. If you go to a dark ass club this is a must. Women should wear make-up. So stop lying when you say you don't like it. Really? Cause when Beyonce comes on t.v. you sure seem to like make-up then. Myth BUSTED.
2.Black women shouldnt smoke, it makes them look ugly. NO ONE should smoke!! Thanks for making us so special to singling us out but thats very ignorant. If you are trying to get at me in the club don't follow your lame ass greeting by telling me i should quit smoking. How would you like it if I said "Hey papi, you lookin' good, but you should stop wearing those clothes because the Tommy hilfiger shirt youre wearing thinking that you were dressed up makes you look very dated, lame and cheap. Hey but can I get your number?". Like who are you to judge me. I didnt decide to smoke because I thought it was cute. Its just one of my many flaws. I dont need someone I dont even know telling me to quit. Worse than a damn Jehovah's witness. MYTH BUSTED
3.Black women have attitudes. Yet another ignorant ass myth. ALL women have attitude. Just like all women have legs. I work in retail and come in contact with lots of women, and women acting like bitches definitely come in ALL color, shapes, and sizes. If I come across unapproachable at the club, its probably, because weve seen heard and dealt with a lot of shit from your kind. So creativity is a must BULLSHIT is a bust.Myth BUSTED.
4. Black women are gold diggers. I'm the first to admit that I love Kanye, and always sings the part that says, "we want prenup,ah yeahhh". But I think sometimes we don't listen too well. I think the phrase goes, "I AINT sayin she's a gold digger but she aint messin with no broke nigga". Its 2008, everyone should have a job, and striving for greatness. So is it too much to ask that you have the following; a job, some goals, a car, and some extra cash to spend? If you don't have one or the other, atleast be working towards it. Anyways, ALL women are gold diggers. There's nothing sexier than a rich man ready to spend!
4. Black women hate black men who date white women. That idea is so simple minded and stupid. Black men who say they only date white women for whatever stupid reason like black women have attitudes, are racist and lame, and thats what ALL WOMEN hate.And i think thats what most woman hate is a LAME ass man.I know it makes your dick hard at the thought of seeing an envious black woman, but lets get real. You know that's not why a black woman might be upset. Myth BUSTED.This very myth will help to conclude this long ass blog.
You're our brothers, uncles, and fathers. You know what we've been through, you were there through our EXPERIENCES. you're the one person we believe knows us truly, our hearts and our minds. You are apart of our souls. Why must you fall into the crowd that believes we are inferior and then sing along with the band? Our beauty lies within ouselves and YOU. Why must your expectations of us be so unrealistic and of perfection. We have flaws, because we are human, like you. If we love you for all of your imperfections, we should be given the same respect. So talk to us with respect. Love us with respect. Treat us with respect, and we will try our best to be the woman of your dreams. We aren't your enemies. Why must our standards be so low of you just so we may share our hearts with you? We can't continue giving ourselves to a man who doesn't answer to a higher power, and lives a life that is hypocritical. Your are MY BROTHER. Protect me.
Ladies, EXPERIENCE and OBSERVE throughout your JOURNEY, this is a big world. Don't hesitate to STRAY.
Irregardless...
Just a thought
For some foolish reason, I have always been the type of black woman who only dates black men. I guess living in (joke)lahoma somewhat kept me to "stay" and not to "stray", if you will. I mean black women arent a high commodity around these parts.In Oklahoma, it seems to me that there is an unspoken rule that everyone should stick to their kind. That rule only applying to black women and white men. Ive gathered that other women would say they dont date outside of their race because they feel they OWE something to our black men. Some may say attraction is at question. Somehow theyve made up in their minds that only black men have the power to appeal to 2 or more senses. Maybe the stares, grunts, and whispers arent too appealing either. Dont get me wrong, there are black women STRAY, and actually would prefer to. But maybe the truth lies behind the idea that a REAL black woman, oh wait.. before i go further let me give a you a "definition quickie" of a REAL BLACK WOMAN from my EXPERIENCE DICTIONARY.
Real Black Woman noun an african american woman whos ancestors were slaves, with no real knowledge of any other ethnicity other than african decent. Who checks the box African American when filling out the ethnicity portion of an application. Who may or may not have "good hair". Women of various colors, shapes, and sizes. You can find being exploited on your average music video of any kind and "The Maury Show".
Ok now back to the reguarly scheduled program.
....the idea of a REAL black woman ever being physically, financially, mentally, (sane)cially, (def being of sanity), notloudicially,(def to have the ability to shut your damn mouth), and intellectually EQUAL TO non-black women in America does not exist. I call this idea the, Video Vixen Effect. (This idea will be discussed further in another blog). I'm sure that women of other ethnicities would argue that they too feel that this idea exist within their culture. For example, Asian women are known for there beautifully slanted eyes. It is a feature that defines the anatomy and history of the Asian culture. But when Asian women apply make-up to their eyes they dont get the same shading affect as an Italian woman or a black woman would. Some Asian women get surgery on their eyes that tucks the skin of the the eyelid inward so that there is a crease created to give dimension to the eye. Their feeling of inferiority has played such a role in their lives, that they question the very thing that makes them unique in this world. Please take note that I dont think this idea of inferiority only lies in the black community, but in this blog, Im being selfish and will be discussing this idea in terms of black women.
Hypothetical very short story time.
*Reading Rainbow theme song plays*
You're 8. You go to Miss Stephens' 3rd grade class every morning and see that only you and 1 other girl has hair like you. The EXPERIENCE of learning begins. You're CURIOUS and mind is of wonder, as you make your way home after school while humming the tunes of "Superwoman" by Karen White. You walk into the kitchen, "Mama", you say. "Can I please wear my hair down tomorrow for school?". Your mom's heart begins to break when she has to look you in those big brown eyes and tell you, "No girl. You aint no white girl, now go play with your dolls or something". You do as told, and play with your Barbies, only to look at her and see that even the doll, that appears to look like you, has long straight her, a pointy nose, and a flat ass. You hate her, because for some reason you cant understand why she is darker than you and you still don't feel like you can relate. So you watch T.V, you know, Rainbow Bright, Care Bears, Shera, Smurfs, shit like that. OBSERVANT as you are, you notice that NOT a single character looks, sounds, or experiences anything that surrounds you. You will later learn that you will experience this throughout your life, and forced to deal with media that won't show POSITIVE images of women who look like you.
And this is where the EXPERIENCE of anger and confusion begins.
The real reason I wrote this blog.
I had an EXPERIENCE that made me more OBSERVANT than ever. I went to a club one night with a friend. Now we are both dancers and we love to go out, drink, and dance to all types of music, so this club was pretty diverse. I was looking great as usual, because really theres no other options, smelling good, just got paid from one of the 3 jobs I hold, so feeling good too. The DJ is playing Cherry Pie, and thats my cue to take a cigarette break. Im standing there minding my own business when this guy comes up to me, which is the first since I got to the club 2 hours ago. "Hey miss lady" he says. "You sure are looking good tonight". I smile, tell him thanks for the compliment, because I am a lady and do enjoy a compliment every now and then. He continues the conversation by saying, "you sure look good, but you need to put that cigarette down". I don't exactly know why but I become overwhelmingly angry inside. I argue with him a little trying to justify the fact that Im a fuckin' adult, capable of making decisions, good or bad on my own, and why his opinion means nothing to me. Needless to say he moves around. A guy Ive known for years was there as well. We exchange greetings and catch up a little. He's good, Im good. After 2 minutes of small talk he also proceeds to tell me I shouldnt be smoking cigarettes. "It's not cute", he says. At this point I'm ready to close my tab and go home. After this EXPERIENCE, I start seeing a trend in black men when in a club atmosphere. A.not too many holla at me, unless they're scum and really have nothing to loose.B. If they do decide to dance with you they have a need to touch on my body. Disgusting. C. They feel that a black woman who smokes cigarettes should be told that they shouldnt smoke cigarettes.
One day it hit me. My EXPERIENCE as a child, has left me with a sense of inferiority. Overlooked and disrespected by society. Which could explain the deeply rooted feeling of anger and loneliness. I dont deserve to feel this way. I have a lot to give to this world. So Im putting my foot down on all of this nonsense. Because I think there is some confusion as to the place of black women in our own community and in this world. Im disgusted, that we as black women have allowed society to think, disrespect, and talk of us as if were meaningless creatures who are automatically born at the bottom of the food chain. MY BROTHER, I have a few concerns that needs to be addressed.
Here's where the myths play a role in this blog.
1.Black women shouldnt wear make-up because they dont need it.
Is this some egotistical way for you to keep us looking like we just woke up so some other man wont talk to us? No matter what color you are you should wear make up. Im not saying throw blue eyeshadow all over your face, but make up is used to enhance features you already have. If you work at a place where you have to come in contact with lots of people this is a must. If you go to a dark ass club this is a must. Women should wear make-up. So stop lying when you say you don't like it. Really? Cause when Beyonce comes on t.v. you sure seem to like make-up then. Myth BUSTED.
2.Black women shouldnt smoke, it makes them look ugly. NO ONE should smoke!! Thanks for making us so special to singling us out but thats very ignorant. If you are trying to get at me in the club don't follow your lame ass greeting by telling me i should quit smoking. How would you like it if I said "Hey papi, you lookin' good, but you should stop wearing those clothes because the Tommy hilfiger shirt youre wearing thinking that you were dressed up makes you look very dated, lame and cheap. Hey but can I get your number?". Like who are you to judge me. I didnt decide to smoke because I thought it was cute. Its just one of my many flaws. I dont need someone I dont even know telling me to quit. Worse than a damn Jehovah's witness. MYTH BUSTED
3.Black women have attitudes. Yet another ignorant ass myth. ALL women have attitude. Just like all women have legs. I work in retail and come in contact with lots of women, and women acting like bitches definitely come in ALL color, shapes, and sizes. If I come across unapproachable at the club, its probably, because weve seen heard and dealt with a lot of shit from your kind. So creativity is a must BULLSHIT is a bust.Myth BUSTED.
4. Black women are gold diggers. I'm the first to admit that I love Kanye, and always sings the part that says, "we want prenup,ah yeahhh". But I think sometimes we don't listen too well. I think the phrase goes, "I AINT sayin she's a gold digger but she aint messin with no broke nigga". Its 2008, everyone should have a job, and striving for greatness. So is it too much to ask that you have the following; a job, some goals, a car, and some extra cash to spend? If you don't have one or the other, atleast be working towards it. Anyways, ALL women are gold diggers. There's nothing sexier than a rich man ready to spend!
4. Black women hate black men who date white women. That idea is so simple minded and stupid. Black men who say they only date white women for whatever stupid reason like black women have attitudes, are racist and lame, and thats what ALL WOMEN hate.And i think thats what most woman hate is a LAME ass man.I know it makes your dick hard at the thought of seeing an envious black woman, but lets get real. You know that's not why a black woman might be upset. Myth BUSTED.This very myth will help to conclude this long ass blog.
You're our brothers, uncles, and fathers. You know what we've been through, you were there through our EXPERIENCES. you're the one person we believe knows us truly, our hearts and our minds. You are apart of our souls. Why must you fall into the crowd that believes we are inferior and then sing along with the band? Our beauty lies within ouselves and YOU. Why must your expectations of us be so unrealistic and of perfection. We have flaws, because we are human, like you. If we love you for all of your imperfections, we should be given the same respect. So talk to us with respect. Love us with respect. Treat us with respect, and we will try our best to be the woman of your dreams. We aren't your enemies. Why must our standards be so low of you just so we may share our hearts with you? We can't continue giving ourselves to a man who doesn't answer to a higher power, and lives a life that is hypocritical. Your are MY BROTHER. Protect me.
Ladies, EXPERIENCE and OBSERVE throughout your JOURNEY, this is a big world. Don't hesitate to STRAY.
Monday, April 21, 2008
RANDOM
This is a throwback.. before the blogspot i decided to put on here for my new found blogging friends!
On many nights, I drive in my car with the music loud, so when I try to hit the highest notes, I feel like I'm Whitney. I like to get lost in my car. Lost in deep thought. In my car, I make up scenerios of how I would want my success to come about. You know, like that "great story" that your friends would tell about you, on your own documentary featured on OETA. Like one day I was walking down the streets of New York, after leaving my third side job, a man stops to help me find the quarter I dropped that I of course need to catch the train, and I look up to find that its Bob Dylan asking me to be apart of his new reality show called "who wants to be a farmer/dancer/biscuit baker". And I cry, because I know I'm so great at all of those things..I get on the show and my brilliant personality lands me the biggest and most talked about role in one of the greatest movies since, since.... "Forest Gump". I win an Oscar and even write my own book. I don't even need an editor. I get married to basically a God, and we have five children. Two of them are quarterbacks for 5 time Superbowl Championship Teams, (yes both on different teams, and both of them have 5 rings), 1 is a doctor who invents the "body transplant", like full body; hair, balls, legs, the whole shabang. 1 is a drug addict, (got to be realistic, atleast ones a fuck up), and the other becomes the first man to fly to Saturn on a motorized broom stick. We both die at 108, with all of our teeth, and in our sleep.... But then I look up and I find myself in a parking space, wondering how I got there. I sit for awhile, take a deep breath, get out of the car, and enter back into the reality of it all. LIFE. I go to my bed where I lay alone forced to worry about all of my endless responsibilities. All of my dumb insecurities. All of my past. All of the poverty. All of racism. All of the confusion and stupidity. All of the dreams I have that just seem like dreams. All of the things I could turn to, like drugs or vodka. All of the money I don't have. All of the reasons why no matter what I have it never seems quite enough. All of the lies. All of the crime. All of the damn time. And I say, "Shit, I think ill just take a drive to the walmart in Yukon." Yeah I'm stupid.
On many nights, I drive in my car with the music loud, so when I try to hit the highest notes, I feel like I'm Whitney. I like to get lost in my car. Lost in deep thought. In my car, I make up scenerios of how I would want my success to come about. You know, like that "great story" that your friends would tell about you, on your own documentary featured on OETA. Like one day I was walking down the streets of New York, after leaving my third side job, a man stops to help me find the quarter I dropped that I of course need to catch the train, and I look up to find that its Bob Dylan asking me to be apart of his new reality show called "who wants to be a farmer/dancer/biscuit baker". And I cry, because I know I'm so great at all of those things..I get on the show and my brilliant personality lands me the biggest and most talked about role in one of the greatest movies since, since.... "Forest Gump". I win an Oscar and even write my own book. I don't even need an editor. I get married to basically a God, and we have five children. Two of them are quarterbacks for 5 time Superbowl Championship Teams, (yes both on different teams, and both of them have 5 rings), 1 is a doctor who invents the "body transplant", like full body; hair, balls, legs, the whole shabang. 1 is a drug addict, (got to be realistic, atleast ones a fuck up), and the other becomes the first man to fly to Saturn on a motorized broom stick. We both die at 108, with all of our teeth, and in our sleep.... But then I look up and I find myself in a parking space, wondering how I got there. I sit for awhile, take a deep breath, get out of the car, and enter back into the reality of it all. LIFE. I go to my bed where I lay alone forced to worry about all of my endless responsibilities. All of my dumb insecurities. All of my past. All of the poverty. All of racism. All of the confusion and stupidity. All of the dreams I have that just seem like dreams. All of the things I could turn to, like drugs or vodka. All of the money I don't have. All of the reasons why no matter what I have it never seems quite enough. All of the lies. All of the crime. All of the damn time. And I say, "Shit, I think ill just take a drive to the walmart in Yukon." Yeah I'm stupid.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
loves and (dis)loves if you will
Things i love..
- Prailines and cream ice cream
- the smell of breakfast on a saturday morning
- strong drinks with no taste of alcohol
- The movie, "Coming to America"
- sex with someone i love.
- designs on my toenails
- The theme song for Family Matters
- The hopes that someone with a conscious and concern for mankind will be the next President.
- Taking my bra off at the end of the day
- The sight of kids laughing, dancing, and being loved, because it reminds me of how wonderful life can be without worries of LIFE.
- The fresh Prince of Bel Air
- Pay Day
- R & B in the 70's, 80's and 90's
- The Fourth of July
- Terrell Owens, Chad Johnson, and Randy Moss, just for putting excitement back in football.. Because isnt the game merely for OUR entertainment.
- OPRAH
- Orbit gum, any flavor
- The line in Napolean Dynamite, that says, "....your mom goes to college."
- Making fun of Tyra on, America's Next Top Model.
- The dancing I do in my head.
- LIARS.
- Snakes and anything that looks like one.
- The fact that people live and die by jay-z. (Pretty much every album puts me to sleep accept for maybe 3 songs total)
- not having any AC during the summer.
- LOSER ASS MEN! I'm allergic to them.
- The fact that Micheal Jackson has lost his mind, because the music industry is in desperate need of some change.
- Cats. Sit when tell you to sit. Get off of the counter when I tell you to. Its like having a bunch of bad ass kids.
- Guys with braids.
- White boys with tight shirts.
- the song "Low"
- Ray-J
- The fact that I still have to buy batteries.
- GASOLINE in general.
- DR. PHIL
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Who is he?
Last night I met a man. He was 100 ft tall. He could open doors for me to the enitire universe. His eyes were similar to me, full of life and truth. He could see my future clear as a crystal. His spectrum would reveal a path of life that aligned perfectly as the planets do . His mouth could speak only powerful words of encouragement and beauty. His glowing eloquence would burn in my soul as intense as the elements of the skies in Mars. His arms could stretch a mile long. He could retrieve anything I imagine. He would stand on the tips of his toes and pull me out wisdom of the Sun. His chest would be made up of tiny particles of love, strength, and integrity. He could guard my heart with the dust of his bones. They would protect me from any meteor shower of deceit and heartache. He would only reveal those who possess unconditional love and honesty from an atmosphere of only my best interest. He was a REAL man. I remember him like his flame burned within my soul. Like every time I smiled you could see the universe glow. My dreams tell me he lies within me. Despite my humility he sees me through. Makes promises he can keep, and tell stories of truth. He hugs me when I'm blue, and soothes me when times due. He's my omega and my queen. He lives in me. The change of my sadness. He's king of my gladness. You all would call him him happiness.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Thank God for...
Thank god for Strawberry flavored Vodka, cause 10 shots of that is way better than 7 of regular. Thank god for high waisted jeans cause I'm tired of my ass crack showing. Thank god for spare tires (donuts acorse), they can last up to months, son!! Thank god for any fast food that's open past 2am. Thank god for Gangsta Rap, because sometimes I just wanna say, "bitches aint shit but hoes and tricks". (Bitches. Pertaining to men of course). Thank god for friends, because when I talk it seems more like pouring my heart out and less like complaining. Thank god for "Fresh Prince of Bel Air", reminds me of once upon a time when there were no bills and my biggest problem was what to wear on the first day of school. Thank God for Facebook, Myspace, Music videos, Walmart, Award Shows, and the clubs, because without them I can't have judgemental conversations about people and their outfits, shoes, facial expression, future husbands (or secret husbands), weaves, and of course performances to make me feel better about myself. Thank God for Baseball and Golf Season, its just a constant reminder to get my ass off of the couch and to do something other than watch T.V. because everything on T.V. will put me straight to sleep. Thank God for Greys Anatomy, nothing more to be said. Thank God for Old Navy, because cheap and decent is in, in 2008. Thank God for tights and leggings because everyone. no matter the size seems to have enough self esteem to put them on. Self-esteem is good! Thank God for Amy Winehouse, good music and GREAT laughs! Thank God casual sex isn't so bad anymore. Thank God coffee isn't just for the morning. So needless to say, "Starbucks" is heaven. Thank God you can walk into 7-Eleven dressed as a welfare check cashin, veitnam veteran bein, clown suit wearin, R.V. drivin, leather coat in the summer time doin, Uggs with courdaroy rockin, rollers in you are hair havin, snaggle tooth danglin bum, because I'd never go. Thank God for bar-b-que, because life would never seem priceless. Thank God for struggle, because my name would just be Barney and Friends. Thank God for "soft rock"; like "Lady in Red" and "You Mean the World to Me", because love would be pointless. Thank God for parks, because I would never get the "don't talk to strangers" speech. Thank God for, tweezers, mirrors, magazines, models, clothes, and IKEA, because I'd have no obsessions.
THANK GOD, I'm alive and well. I better get over the rest of my so called "hardships". Life aint so bad, I'm sure another episode of "I Love NY" is coming on!
THANK GOD, I'm alive and well. I better get over the rest of my so called "hardships". Life aint so bad, I'm sure another episode of "I Love NY" is coming on!
Monday, April 7, 2008
Why not run a yellow light?
I say, fuck the yellow light! The yellow light tells me a lot about Garrett A. Morgan. He's a wuss! I wants nothing in between. Go or stop. Stop or go. Go, go , go. Stop, stop, stop. Yellow lights are for losers and pansies, pansies and losers. If it were up to me, lights would have no existence. We'd just jump in the car and drive that bitch like Jeff Gordan with the Texas Giant as the track, and 2 fat people in the back, named Chrilife and Deathisha. You stop and I go, I go and you stop, I go and you go. Crash, crash, crash. Hopefully I would had went out the night before and drank until I was on top of tables showing my tits, yelling out profanity that even HBO can't play, and dancing as if my life depended on it, all while in Rio De Janeiro, sippin' Caipirinhas and playing the guitar with Pharrell and Snoop, shooting the "Beautiful Part 2" video. You know living life the way everyone secretly wants to live, but too damn afraid. Scared some lightening bolt will fall from the sky, and strike you down, and in fear that now life as you know it is more fucked up then it was before. I just wanna go 60 mph and then stop, stop, stop and slam on my brakes for dear life. everyone in the car with me...their lives will flash, flash, and flash before their eyes, including the kids and the dog. I sit waiting, waiting, and waiting , for the light to turn green, so that I can put the gas so far down life's throat, I put my foot up my own ass. I go, go, go, so fast i can smell rubber. I know that no matter how fast I go I know there will be yet another light waiting for my ass, just so I can slam on the breaks again, again, and again. Am I stopping or going?
Maybe I'll STOP.
Should I pay my cell phone bill?
But damn GO seems better.
Should I say FUCK IT, Im going to the club. Which means I'll have just enough to get me a new pair of earrings and a cheap shirt from Charlotte. Hoping, just hoping it will freshin up these stale ass clothes from two years ago when I pulled this same stunt.
This time I'm gonna STOP.
Maybe I should wear a condemn?
Man, It's been awhile, I say GO.
Or should I literally FUCK IT and just raw dog it? I mean I took her out for a drink she paid for, and pretended to listen to her go on and on about wanting to be a model/baton twirler, while i stared at her nipples peeking through her shirt. Praying, just praying the pull out method will work, because I hate the last two kids I got.
STOPPING.
Should I go to work on time today?
GOING FAST.
Maybe Ill just say FUCK IT and sleep in just a little bit longer? Its better that way, teach "the man" whos really running shit. Guessing, just guessing my boss doesnt work today, to see that Im 30 minutes late for the 4th time, on probation, and out of uniform wearing the white and baby blue Jordans i borrowed from the homie, instead of these ugly ass black dress shoes i bought from Payless with pancake batter on it from my second job at the Waffle House.
STOP to the 3rd power.
Should I eat yet another salad?
GO GO GADGET.
I say I warm-up the entire batch of Krispy Kreme donuts, put 6 on a plate, add ice cream, and eat it with a spatula until my tummy hurts so bad, and wake up to find out im late for work a-damn-gin. No? Even if I start my diet tomorrow that consists of any diet pill that promises I loose at least 15 pounds in a 10 days, water pills, protein gum, and the new exercise machine you sleep in that requires nothing but 6 hours of sleep a day to shed inches? What if I start right after my nap? I should definitely choose STOP on this one.
STOP it.
Should I communicate clearly and affectively today?
GOOOOOOOOO.
Or should I just say to hell with this? and drive my car right through the double doors of Walmart and run over the three check out ladies, and the 40 million costumers standing in line with their bad ass kids and baskets full of fruit loops, Swiffer refills, and "Sam's Choice" bottled water followed by a drive by electronics to snatch up a flat screen for the living room and the bathroom, where i will of course see at least 3 losers I went to high school with and not only will i run over them but reverse and run over them again for doing the same shit they were doing in high school still 'til this day. Clearly driving my car into the store will just get my groceries into the car faster, anyways.
STOP in the name of love.
Should I just purchase gas with some spare change?
GOING very fast.
I think i should just pump it and get them back next time.Maybe? What'd you say mister gas pump machine? Pre-pay or credit card only? Well damn... I only have 6 quarters and I was really hoping to cash that in to the car wash to wash my 20's, plus my credit card was maxed a trip to Ted's, nail salon, and three shirts ago, but if I have at least $2 in my checking account the debit card will be approved, and although Bank of America charges $33 in over draft fees, I'll just pay them back next friday when I get paid. works for me.
Always STOPPING and GOING. go, go, go and stop, stop, stop. go, stop, go. An infinite number of different ways to position our gos and stops. Hopefully I'll stop the same time and place LeBron James stops. If not, I guess you'll do.
Maybe I'll STOP.
Should I pay my cell phone bill?
But damn GO seems better.
Should I say FUCK IT, Im going to the club. Which means I'll have just enough to get me a new pair of earrings and a cheap shirt from Charlotte. Hoping, just hoping it will freshin up these stale ass clothes from two years ago when I pulled this same stunt.
This time I'm gonna STOP.
Maybe I should wear a condemn?
Man, It's been awhile, I say GO.
Or should I literally FUCK IT and just raw dog it? I mean I took her out for a drink she paid for, and pretended to listen to her go on and on about wanting to be a model/baton twirler, while i stared at her nipples peeking through her shirt. Praying, just praying the pull out method will work, because I hate the last two kids I got.
STOPPING.
Should I go to work on time today?
GOING FAST.
Maybe Ill just say FUCK IT and sleep in just a little bit longer? Its better that way, teach "the man" whos really running shit. Guessing, just guessing my boss doesnt work today, to see that Im 30 minutes late for the 4th time, on probation, and out of uniform wearing the white and baby blue Jordans i borrowed from the homie, instead of these ugly ass black dress shoes i bought from Payless with pancake batter on it from my second job at the Waffle House.
STOP to the 3rd power.
Should I eat yet another salad?
GO GO GADGET.
I say I warm-up the entire batch of Krispy Kreme donuts, put 6 on a plate, add ice cream, and eat it with a spatula until my tummy hurts so bad, and wake up to find out im late for work a-damn-gin. No? Even if I start my diet tomorrow that consists of any diet pill that promises I loose at least 15 pounds in a 10 days, water pills, protein gum, and the new exercise machine you sleep in that requires nothing but 6 hours of sleep a day to shed inches? What if I start right after my nap? I should definitely choose STOP on this one.
STOP it.
Should I communicate clearly and affectively today?
GOOOOOOOOO.
Or should I just say to hell with this? and drive my car right through the double doors of Walmart and run over the three check out ladies, and the 40 million costumers standing in line with their bad ass kids and baskets full of fruit loops, Swiffer refills, and "Sam's Choice" bottled water followed by a drive by electronics to snatch up a flat screen for the living room and the bathroom, where i will of course see at least 3 losers I went to high school with and not only will i run over them but reverse and run over them again for doing the same shit they were doing in high school still 'til this day. Clearly driving my car into the store will just get my groceries into the car faster, anyways.
STOP in the name of love.
Should I just purchase gas with some spare change?
GOING very fast.
I think i should just pump it and get them back next time.Maybe? What'd you say mister gas pump machine? Pre-pay or credit card only? Well damn... I only have 6 quarters and I was really hoping to cash that in to the car wash to wash my 20's, plus my credit card was maxed a trip to Ted's, nail salon, and three shirts ago, but if I have at least $2 in my checking account the debit card will be approved, and although Bank of America charges $33 in over draft fees, I'll just pay them back next friday when I get paid. works for me.
Always STOPPING and GOING. go, go, go and stop, stop, stop. go, stop, go. An infinite number of different ways to position our gos and stops. Hopefully I'll stop the same time and place LeBron James stops. If not, I guess you'll do.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
fears are as pointles as life without love
sometimes i get scared, like everyone, i have fears. Everyday, as im growing, experiencing, and pretending to be going after what it is i know i want, im afraid. Afraid that the script that plays in my head is never going to be heard, let alone seen, and only through the highest gates, would they ever be awarded. In my little head I see greatness, and the story i tell can move mountains sized larger than anyone can measure. But I fear, unlike myself, TIME, with its persistence and endurance despite change, is passing me by effortlessly. As eager as i am for change, i fear that im misguided through life due to lack of strength on my part, and change cant come soon enough.. Why the dismay, des? Why are you not as whole as it appears on the outer layers? i ask.
I hear my cry when Im dancing, but what do they listen to? I feel the rhythm in my soul, but why is it they can only hear the music? I can see the lines I stretch for moments that are infinite, but do they see them dim at my very last finger tip? Who am i? I know what I am inside, but what is stopping me from bringing it to surface.
The fear lies in the fact that I am the only power holding me back, and I cant place my tongue on the words to tell me otherwise.
I can't let time grow as i wither..
I must shine tomorrow.
I hear my cry when Im dancing, but what do they listen to? I feel the rhythm in my soul, but why is it they can only hear the music? I can see the lines I stretch for moments that are infinite, but do they see them dim at my very last finger tip? Who am i? I know what I am inside, but what is stopping me from bringing it to surface.
The fear lies in the fact that I am the only power holding me back, and I cant place my tongue on the words to tell me otherwise.
I can't let time grow as i wither..
I must shine tomorrow.
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