Inner Sanctum of my Brain

Long time No See?

2008-04-01T22:16:00.003-04:00

It has been a while since I last scribbled on these walls. However, as my life continues to twist and turn I've documented journey within the pages of another virtual outlet.

If interested, you can now find me on Vox as Mahoganie.

As always, I welcome you to be a voyeur in my so-called life.

Make Me Over, but Don't Make Me Over

2006-10-02T22:40:00.000-04:00

Last night I was watching one of my favorite episodes of Sex and the City. In the episode titled "The Real Me," Carrie finds herself pondering over an invite to participate in one of New York's hippest fashion shows. In all her modesty, she questioned if she really was high fashion, runway material. After all, what made her so special to be a model? After a little push from her gal pals, including Stanford, the "boy friend," and reassurance that she would be able to keep the threads from the designers that hand picked her to model their stuff, she said yes.

What makes me love this episode so much is Carrie's modesty and her honest realization that she is just an ordinary person and she is pretty pleased with that. I also love the fact that her ordinary, girl next door looks could easily be transformed into some kind of - for lack of better words - a sexy siren. With a few added hair extensions and a nice but not overly done make up job, Carrie strutted down the catwalk in stilettos, a pair of jeweled Dolce and Gabbana panties and a beautiful satin deep purple trench coat. Of course the comic relief in all of this is Carrie falling flat on her face before she could get down the runway good. Yet, she managed to get up, dust herself off and strut. Needless to say she did receive a standing ovation in applause and cheer, including a high five from supermodel Heidi Klum, for her act of runway bravery.

In watching that episode (for the God only knows how many times), it only reminded me more of how I desperately want to reinvent myself. The funny thing is, the more I think about reinventing myself, the more the thoughts become this huge snowball of other thoughts. Basically, I’m led to believe that I need a whole renovation of my life. Things or status levels that I longed for at 22 and 23 I'm still longing for - a more financial stable life, a place to call my own, a job I'm in love with and can say I'm fulfilled by and a special companion to share my all with.

I remind myself time and time again that I've come a long way from being the isolated and tormented soul I use to be. I’m grateful for having made it through that dark portion of my life and was able to make significant strides. However, there is still more to go. There are still things that I desire to accomplish, with my two biggies - finally pushing out my novel to print and the documentary I'm slowly but surely piecing together to pitch/propose. I guess in the end I do want to be "That Girl." Yanno, the one that is turning heads in a room from my accomplishments and beyond without uttering a word. I guess I do desire some portion of the limelight, but not for the sake of being vein.

There is this song called "Don't Make Me Over" that Dionne Warwick sung back in the day. A singer called Sybil in the early 90s later remade it.

Don't make me over/ Now that I'd do anything for you/ Don't make me over/ Now that you know how I adore you
Don't pick on the things I say, the things I do/ Just love me with all my faults, the way that I love you/ I'm begging you

What's funny is, as much as I desire to have some kind of a make over in my life done, I fear having it. I have a fear of loosing parts of myself that I hold dear, especially my humbleness. I don't ever want to loose that part of me. So what exactly do I want to change? It's kind of hard to tell. I want to change my outside appearance - my hair, my wardrobe, even a better makeup job. I try, but somehow in my efforts, I still manage to be this low-key, eclectic, quasi bohemian-like chic. On the inside, I would like to add a little more self confidence. There are still some parts of me that feels like this shy and docile little girl. On a few occassions I've had people tell me I should be more assertive, but I tend to pick and choose my battles. I don't jump out and voice my opinion at the drop of every dime. If I feel the need to be assertive then I will be. Otherwise, I kind of accept (my) life for what it is.

Accept me for what I am/Accept me for the things that I do/Accept me for what I am/Accept me for the things that I do

At the beginning of the year I did declare that 2006 was a year of transition. I also declared a mantra of some sort of being young and living. So far, both my declarations have not failed me. I feel myself fighting in a way, contemplating and still transitioning into something that seems to be beyond me. In the midst of all of this, I have managed to live a calmer life with a few occssions of living on that edge between the person I use to be and the person I'm transitioning to be.

Maybe that's it! maybe the make over I'm desperatly seeking won't happen until this transition phase is complete. Maybe I need to comppletely purge myself of all the dead weight that I still may be carrying from the past in order to press on. Maybe that's what's holding me back, the leftover dead weight that lives in nooks and crannies and refuses to leave.

By the end of the year, I hope to purge whatever demons are left. I hate being stuck in one emotional place.

Introspective Thinking

2006-09-26T21:23:00.000-04:00

Today was one of my many Aquarius mood days. Not that I was negatively moody, but I just felt the need to take the quiet road and just listen and observe the world. Actually today was the first time in a while that my health really didn't bother me. My stomach felt fine and I was able to scarf down a banana once I got to work. A few seconds later I became thirsty and was seriously craving the Dragonfruit flavor of Vitamin Water.

I decided to take a walk to the 7 Eleven that is a couple of blocks over. During the walk, I didn't think about nothing in particular. I briefly thought about a 15 year old that was in the news this morning. He had gone missing over the weekend and was found dead yesterday. He turned out to be one of my mother's ex-students. In the midst of such a thought, I thought about how beautiful of an early fall morning it was. The sun was out and there was this breeze that felt good on my skin. I thought about what I had to get done for the day and didn't stress, because I had a feeling that my day was going to be pretty easy. All I had to do was look over a few articles, edit and do some writing.

Before I knew it, I was walking into the 7 Eleven and immediately noticed a group of police officers gathered in a corner. By their banter and laughter you could tell they weren't up to any "official police business." It was just a morning with the boys. I was a bit pissed that the store was out of the Dragfruit, I settled with the Grape flavor. I just wanted something to hydrate me and keep my stomach calm at the same time. As I made my exit I could feel the eyes of the police officers on my back, they had stopped talking for those few seconds and as soon as I was outside I heard them resume their morning conversation. What was that about? I will never know.

Around the corner I noticed a guy that was just in the 7 Eleven a few minutes before I was. There was nothing special about him. He seemed to be a painter with his white paint stained overalls and white shirt. He looked to be somewhere in his 40's. He was a beautiful dark chocolate complexion, but his teeth were kind of messed up as they were crooked and yellow. In a way he looked goofy, especially with the bifocals. Before I could easily dismiss him he said something that simply made my day.

"You have a good look about you. You are attractive. I'm sure whatever man you are with right now, he is lucky."

Okay, I know that men are going to men no matter how goofy, good-looking, their social background or whatever. Men are going to flirt and say things like that. A statement or line such as the one above could be just as empty as a person with no soul. So why did that man's compliment make me smile? Because, sometimes we need to hear it. Sometimes it's easy to forget that you are beautiful in someone's eye, especially if you have been feeling really crappy lately.

However, the strange thing is, as much as his compliment made me smile it made me sad. I thought how it's funny that it's always the complete strangers (especially the crazy looking ones) that give me compliments like that. What I really find funny is the ending - "Your man is lucky." The last time I heard that I was "dating" Hazel and I knew deep down he didn't know how "lucky" he was. Yet I smiled and pretended he did, because of all the sweet "nothings" he said that I wanted to hear. A statement like that really makes me think do the men in my life really and truly know how lucky they are to have me in their life, especially if I am serious about them? Not saying that I am "The Shit" or "I AM THE BE ALL AND END ALL," but when I'm into someone I give myself unconditionally to the point where others in my life may feel that I am neglecting them.

Anyone reading this might easily say "that's just tough tiddies for the guy. If he can't "see" you than it's his loss." I would totally agree with that, but it's just frustrating when you look up one day and realize you've been giving your all to the wrong person. As liberating as the realization maybe, there will still be a part of you that can't help but to feel hoodwinked.

Question is, who bamboozled you? You or him?

Emily Still Lives

2006-09-23T23:37:00.000-04:00

I chickened out. Emily's funeral was today. I wanted to go to at least represent my family since everyone is out of town at the moment, but I found it hard to muster of the courage. Though I've been okay with her passing, part of me still has been struggling with her death. It's the fact that she died so young in a war that no one knows a cause for. It's the fact that it seemed like she had her whole life ahead of her, but for some reason God saw another plan for her.

During the past week in the midst of a turbulent ride with my health, some nights I slept comfortably, while a couple of nights in thinking about Emily I woke up to a harsh and yet sobering reality. Thus life goes on and all of us that grieve for her will eventually find some peace in her death. In a way I found peace as I saw her obituary posted in Thursday's Washington Post. A picture of her in full West Point miltary attire was attached to it as well as a link for a guestbook. I signed the book with a (more so) personal message to Emily.

Emily, I've been having a hard time dealing with your passing. Though I didn't take the chance to know you personally, I bascially watched you grow into a beautiful young lady at church from the time you first arrived as a teenager. Your smile and energy lit up a room. I witnessed the love you have for God and all the love you and your parents shared with each other. As I try to make sense of what has happened, it does bring some comfort that not only were you a solider for this country, but you were a true solidier for God's army. I loved and admired that about you. Beautiful one, may His peace be with you and may you live in a place where you will continue to be the young and vibrant spirit that you are. You are grately missed by your Peace Baptist Family. Your absence is a void that simply cannot be filled.

This evening as I looked to check a few emails, I received an anonymous message on My Space with the subject "Thought you would be interested to know about this tribute to Emily Perez." I'm thankful for my anonymous writer, because within his message was a link to a blog of sorts and it's a tribute to Emily. The person that posted this tribute refelcted on Emily's life in and outside of the military as she was noted as an all around leader.

How do I feel right now about everything? I'm fine. For I know that her (short) life was not lived in vein.

Critical Condition

2006-09-18T20:57:00.000-04:00

There are days when I feel like I need to rip open my stomach and just snatch everything inside out. Since late July I have been dealing with an up and down wave of indigestion problems. Yeah, I know. Shame on me for not seeking a doctor sooner. Well, there was the issue of enrolling into an affordable health care plan, which I did and finally received my health card around late August. Even then I procrastinated in finding a doc. I guess I didn't press the issue further, because it seemed that things were ok. I didn't have any of the discomfort, pain or nausea feeling I had been having by the time I did get the card. It was when my symtoms came back that I made an appointment with a gastric specialist, but the earliest I could get in was for October 11th.

Out of nowhere, the symtoms started to come back. Well, maybe it didn't come out of nowhere. What I have been noticing is that during those stressful times at work or outside of work, my indigestion problems arise. This morning was too excrutiating to stay at work. I had come into work late and just as I figured Mr. Yellow was on my case about that. Actually, to be honest I have been arriving to work late since this problem started, because the morning is one of my worst times. It takes me a lil bit longer to get myself together, because of pain, cramping or nausea. I'm always battling, do I need to sit on the toilet, lean over te toilet or do I need to just drink some juice or something to calm my insides?

I gave Mr. Yellow a brief rundown of what's going on with me. He knew about my upcoming appointment, but I told him I'm trying to see if I can get it a bit earlier. I told him I was in pain, and yet I had sat there to at least finish out a few things so they could go through for tomorrow. There are projects that we (the whole staff) are working on for a client, and they are giving us a tight schedule to complete things, just so they can have there stuff accounted for by the end of the fiscal year. So yes, this is a city government agency. May God help us with this....

Nevertheless, around noon I left. I had to. A couple of time I found myself almost in tears, because the pain was that intense. What's suprising is I have sort of befriended a lady, Ms. W, that is doing some contract work for us. For some reason she has taken a liken to me and when I told her what is going on (I was almost crying on the phone when talking to her), she wanted me to come over so she could share some of her remedies with me. First I must say, I'm in love with her apartment. She lives right in the heart of Capitol Hill in a building that use to belong to the telephone company - C&P/Bell Atlantic. Her apartment is a loft and she has a beautiful view of Constitution Ave and the lightening in her apartment was perfect. What's interesting is, if I had a loft, she has it decorated in a style that I would want to decorate mine - with art by African American artists. The only thing I wasn't feeling was her wall to wall carpet. While it did make the place nice and plush, I have a thing for hard wood floors. Maybe that has something to do with this house having hardwood floors.

Anywho.... she loaded me up with herbal teas and other remedies that are for colon cleansing and flushing out the digestive system. I was grateful that she was nice enough to share her with me. She told me that she doesn't even give her stuff out like this, but she knew I had been dealing with this for a while and she was concerned, especially as my appointment seems so far away. When I did make it home, I was hit with this dizzy feeling and a headache. All I wanted to do was to get comfortable, drink one of the teas and see if I could eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I did all of the above and became highly sleepy. I managed to make a couple of phone calls, including one to the doc to see if I could move the appointment. Go Fig! Her staff was at lunch and their pre-recorded message was on.

I drifted in an out of sleep for a few hours and finding the tea starting to do it's work. Ms. W told me not to be alarmed if my stomach started to feeling funny. It was simply just the herbal remedies attack any bacteria or parasites in your system and you will eventually flush them out. I woke up around 4 to fix some chicken noodle soup. I noticed how I wasn't in pain anymore and I did manage to eat a small helping of the soup. Soon I was back to lala land.

I don't know if it was the tea or just my mind being funny, but somewhere along the line I managed to have a dream about me in a restroom with this middle age Native American lady. I notice how she was looking at me as I was washing my hands, as if she as studying my methods for placing the soup on my hands and cleansing them. Suddenly, she began to speak, but she started telling me about tribal rituals and mainly something about how all the women in her tribe were married with children. I was soaking up her "spill" about whatever she was talking about and I started asking questions. Then I asked her something about Native American women and marriage. I think it was because she told me that everyone women in her tribe was married and I was shocked by that. I don't remember my exact question to her but it was something like "are you sure? No one is not married?" Her answer was something like, "Everyone is married. That's how we repopulate our tribe"

Anyone that is a Native American female and reading this, please don't take offense to my dream. I have no idea what the heck was going on and it may have something to do with me and my feelings towards marriage, which is another topic of its own.

With all of this being said, more than likely I'll be heading to work tomorrow to make sure that a couple of the projects are okay. Depending on how I feel will determine if I will be staying all day or not. All I know is... my body right now feels broken. The pain is gone, but I still feel this wait of exhulstion and I'm craving chocolate chip cookies. However, I'm staying away from sweets for a minute until I feel I can handle them. I have a dull headache, and my tummy and my intestines feel like they are doing mini flips.

Wonder if I should drink more tea.....

Another Life Taken Thanks to Bush's War

2006-09-13T21:13:00.000-04:00

I'm numb. I don't know if I should be outraged and seek to throw something at someone so they can feel this sudden pain or if I should just stand still and shed my tears.

I thought it unusal for my parents to come home a little earlier than normal from Bible study. When they came through the door, that when I was hit with the terrible news. The kind of news no one, especially parents of children in "Bush's War" wants to hear.

A young lady by the name of Emily Perez, a member and daughter of our church had been killed this week in the latest wave of violence in Iraq. I stood on the steps in shock and unable to move. I repeatedly kept asking "she was killed over there?" I was in disbelief. My mother kept confirming it for me. I eventually sat on the steps and cried a bit.

I remember Emily when she first arrived to our church. It was during the wave of change when we had just installed a new pastor and first family. The Perez's, Emily's parents, have been long time friends of our pastor and came to our church to follow pursuit in worship and to serve as associate pastors. Emily was beautiful. I always thought she was and I always believed that she would grow up to be nothing but an intelligent beautiful lady. She was high school age when she first arrived and though I didn't take the chance to know her more personally, I remember just watching her grew up gracefully.

She was very spiritual, with a bright smile that light up any room. I was a bit stunned when I found out that after high school she wanted to attend West Point, especially in this day in age under the Bush Administration. Yet, many believed it was because she wanted to follow her father's - who was also a military man - footsteps in a way. If I remember correctly her father and my pastor were together in the military for a few years in Germany. That's how their families became close.

Emily made it through West Point and before I knew it, I was hearing news that she was going to Iraq. I don't know if I should disclose any info on her job duties there, but just to say when my father found out about it, he knew right away that she would be in a dangerous position.

It was just last November when, she shipped off. Unfortunately, because my own attendance in church hasn't been so great, I can't remember when was the last time I had seen her, but anytime she was seen in church I always heard about it through my mother. Emily had just been home a month ago on the two week pass and now, without warning, she is gone.

What's erie, it was just Monday I was looking at an archived article from the Washington Post of all of the reported casualities of the Iraq War. I scare myself sometimes, because when I do something that erie and don't know why, it's always revealed to me a short time later. For some reason when I was skimming through those names (by the way it was a list from last Dec) I was looking to see if by chance I knew anyone on it. Soon after I went back to the front wepage of the post and read a small headline pertaining to the brutal fighting that has been taking place over there this week.

I'm hurting for the Perez family. Emily was their only child. I'm hurting, because this war is just as senseless as any regual street violence. Why the fuck are we there????? Who are these dumb folks that put Bush and all of his "men" (including Condi) back in office? I'm certainly not one of them!!! Who has time for this sort of shit where a President wants to play Cowboys and Indians with the foreign nations? Certainly not I!!!!!

I can't make sense of any of this now. All I know is, I'm exhaulsted for those that our fighting for "our defense." Though I hate to use the term babies, because essentially they are adults, but when you look at the ages of those being killed... 18... 19... 20.. 21....22... 23... life hasn't fully begun for them.

Emily was just 21. Because of the love I have witnessed within her and her parents, the love they have for each other and the love for God, my soul feels easy to know that she is okay for the most part, but the part of me that is aware of what is going on, it's restless and it hurts.

It's times like these when I wish I was some kind of Superwoman and could do something and much more to ease the pain of the family.

My mother told me that everyone in Bible study was so distraught, all they could do was outline the lesson plan for the season and go home for the night. The news just hit everyone today. Her parents were notified at 6:30 this morning. Emily will surely be missed.

Rest in peace - Beautiful one.

This really hurts.

Euphoria Equals Exhaustion

2006-09-10T22:01:00.000-04:00

In the past three weeks I have found myself caught up in a whirlwind of events, all of which I have reached some kind of euphoric state.

The last time that I wrote an entry about work, I never did mention anything about my interview with the former Mrs. BET. Needless to say I was mezmorized as I was strolling with her and my mother (yes I took my mother along for the ride) on her Middleburg, VA estate. Everything was so breathtaking and the enviroment was so sirene. I loved talking with her. For one she caught me by surprise as I did not expect her to be as animated and as comfortable as she was, especially during the photoshoot.

Somehow I was able to knock myself back into reality after the interview and photo session was over. I had to high tail it back to DC to prepare for the networking event given by the magazine. The event went well as it was the premire for future events to come. I did find myself very tired as I didn't make it back home until 10 o' clock that evening. The following week seemed to have rolled by quickly at work, but I realized I was feeling a bit empty inside. I couldn't figure out what it was. What was even more disturbing, that weekend I was anticipating my family reunion. It did take place and I was happy to see my tribe, of whom I haven't seen in years. However, on the eve of the reunion I had a very restless night that resulted from a combination of an upset stomach and a dream I had.

In my dream, I ran into a cousin of mine from my father's side of the family. She was telling me she had moved to Montgomery County, MD and all I could worry about was the house she left behind in DC. In reality, she does live in DC by RFK stadium and I know how much the house means to her since it belonged to her father. Her father gave her the house and she did some improvements and it's very comfy. In the dream my cousin assured me that she didn't sell the house, but she was looking for a renter. It was then that I begin to bargain with her about how much I could afford to pay her for rent. We settle on a price of $750 and I move in. The disturbing part comes in when I realized that I spent all my money in paying her for rent that I didn't have anything left to buy furniture. I started freaking out. I don't remember how the dream ended. The last thing I remember about the dream, was me in the living room with green carpet (in reality the carpet is brown) and the house is empty. I was crying in the living room and I did notice there was some kind of shadow casted on the wall.. as if it were from the light outside.

I've been struggling to find the exact meaning of the dream, only to say that it could have something to do with my job and how empty I feel about it now. I didn't realize how empty I felt about it until this past week. For one, Mr. Yellow made me attend this benefit luncheon at the the Omni Shoreham Hotel this past Wednesday. I didn't complain about it, because I looked at it as a "fieldtrip" outside of work. I have also realized I don't like being couped up in the office all day long for five days a week. The YMCA holds the luncheon every year and it is to honor distisguishing women who have made some kind of community difference. These were some heavy hitting ladies. One of the honorees was a well know local jounalist who is now running her own non-profit documentary production company, Ms. RP. In listening to her talk during her presentation, I began to feel this unexplainable feeling. I felt filled and it was then I understand why I needed to be there. It was to meet her.

Suddenly, all of my motivation and my zest that I had towards making a documentary resurfaced. It's not just any documentaray, but it's on a topic that I have come to place near my heart and pray that I can handle and accomplish - Black women and our mental health. After the luncheon I was able to steal away a couple of moments of Ms. RP's. I briefly told her what I was trying to do, but I felt like I was all over the place as far as organizing things and drafting this proposal. She looked at me with a smile and said,

"You sound like me when I first started doing this. I was all over the place too. It's going to take some time, but you have to be patient with it."

She offered her help and gave me her card. She told me to call her so we can discuss the matter further. I plan to take her up on that. How soon? I'm praying very soon. I left the luncheon feeling filled, humble in a way and hopfully that I could possible press on with my goals as far as the documentary is concerned.

Within that same day, I recieved a call from a guy that Mr. Yellow knows. He asked me if I would be willing to serve as a reporter for the next two days at the Congressional Black Causcus Annual Legislative Conference. Of course I didn't turn the opportunity down, but I was not expecting to be as invovled as I was. I was one of those busy bee media folks with that big ass press badge walking about the convention center. For two days I worked the conference from 8 am to nearly 7 pm. I wrote stories for the in house conference daily publication, "The ALC Daily." My first story turned out to be a "front pager." I mananged to work out five stories with four of them being published.

Again, it was another euphoric experience being in the midst of top notch Black proessionals - the congressmen and women, some of my former co-workers in the federal government and even running into two close buddies of mine that are in the media business as well. This was my first time attending the conference outside of being invited to the after parties. The only downer was me being invited to the Barak Obama Black and White party and I had to turn it down because I had to finish up two stories to be printed for the next day. I can't explain the feeling I received from working that conference. As much as I hated getting up at the crack of dawn to be at the convention on time and almost rushing as I fought morning traffic, I looked forward to the day(s).

Now that it's all said and done, I'm now left feeling half full. I'm still reeling from my experiences with such influential people, but as I look ahead and see that I have to return to the office tomorrow, my stomach feels a little sour. Every now and then I go back to my dream and compare it to how I was first told that I had the job by Mr. Yellow. In the beginning I did bargain with him a little over pay. He budged a little, but not much. Me freaking out in my dream is more so of me freaking out now, because I'm caught up in trying to figure out is this something I should stick with for a little while longer or seek and exit now. My stomach stays in knots most of the time and I'm finding that I'm completely tired by the end of the day all of the time... but from what?????

I'm just praying that this week ends like all the rest of them have thus far. Quick! Yet I fear that Mr. Yellow will find some way to make it a stressful one.

It Won't Let Go

2006-08-29T00:29:00.000-04:00

There is a song from Erykah Badu's World Wide Underground cd called "I want You." The lyrics go a little something like this...

love is on the way/ all I got to say is/It wont let go/you can pray to early May/fast for 30 days/still It wont let go/got good book and got all in it/tried a little yoga for a minute//but it wont let go (oooh)tried to turn the sauna up to hotter/drank a whole jar of holy water/but it wont let go

I saw Mr. S over the weekend, and ever since I've been like this. The flirtaticious moves, the slight innuendo conversations, and that was all just between Friday night into Saturday afternoon. By Saturday evening, everything had took it's toll and I became my restless self. So I did what I normally do when I have a car handy. I took a drive, but not too far. I rode to Tyson's Corner in Virginia to try to get my mind off of him, to stop weighing the pros and cons of being with him, and to stop trying to analyze every damn detail of our time together the evening before.

It didn't work. I managed to buy a few things, perhaps a few items I didn't need and still found no cure for this "Mr. S-itis" I have. What scares me is the fact that somehow I see this friendship or whatever it is going in the same direction or path that I went down when it came to Mr. X at my old job. The flirting and then the pulling away or in Mr. S' case... a disappearing act due to traveling. There are still many questions swirling in my mind, but somehow I let the chance slip by without asking them. Just as I felt with Mr. X, I feel as though I'm dealing with a jigsaw puzzle. The sad thing is, I most likely don't have to really deal with this.

So why not just leave it alone? I can't. It's strange. I want to leave it alone, but each time we talk I'm intrigued by him. I love the fact that he is humble, he posses a business savy persona, he can still crack jokes like a kid, he can be a true gentleman and the fact that he appears to be mysterious just makes me hunger for him even more.

Strange. As we were amongst our gathering of friends over the weekend, another friend and I were talking and he complained that he hadn't spoken to me in the last few months. I jokingly told him that I have a life and Mr. S chimed in,

"Am I included in your life?"

To be honest I really didn't know how to answer him. I want him in my life, but parts of me are a bit scared. Somehow I still feel like I'm in a fragile state when it comes to entering a new friendship or a relationship with a man. Mainly because I'm just tired of guessing. I'm tired of all the analyzing, but yet I keep doing it. I'm tired of my insecurities getting the best of me.

No. It's not that I'm not open to love. I'm just exhulstated of going after something that I want and while it may show interest in me, it's not trying hard enough, if at all, to meet me halfway.

and in the worse kinda way/I want you/so what we gone doooo/now what we gone do

So for now, I will just gladly stay to myself, until I think I have this all figured out.

The Eye

2006-08-21T21:37:00.000-04:00

Somehow a cyclone has managed to blow right into my life and my guess is that I'm caught within the eye of the storm. Yanno how the eye of a storm is like the calmest part before things are uprooted and thrashed about? Well, all last week had been filled with calm days. I was able to get work done without Mr. Yellow breathing down may back and things were actually pleasant between to the two of us. May and I had our radio appearance last Thursday and even though there was a slight switch in the topic, we handled ourselves accordingly. What baffled me was Mr. Yellow nonchalant attitude as I told him what took place minutes before May and I went on the air as we dealt with the topic change. Mr. Yellow claimed that he didn't listen in, but I still find that hard to believe.

Instead of talking about the magazine and the event connected with it, we had to speak more about the organization the magazine represented since it is the organization that is more of a service to the public. When the callers honed in with their questions, May and I tried to disguise our nervousness and perhaps lack of knowledge of the organization as we only knew the basics. Needless to say, my friends and family seem to think we carried ourselves well.

Then came Friday as it brought me both good and bad news towards the end of the day. The good news was that after spending three months of trying to schedule an interview with Ms. "Former BET," her publicist sent me a message with a confirmed date and time. Naturally this is exciting news as I have always wanted to meet her. The bad news, the lady that I had booked as the main speaker for the upcoming event for the magazine bailed at the last minute. For some reason I was very calm about the bad news, but I did ask if something else could be done such as have a representative of the company come and speak on her behalf. As very irritated I am about the unprofessionalism of this lady and her company, I still figured the event was covered with a speaker since I had also booked two other speakers. I figure the person representing the next big company can serve as the main speaker since she will be speaking about a heavy topic that is vital to the audience.

Well, this morning Mr. Yellow sends me an email to look for a replacemnt and he threw out two names. One of the individuals is currently out of town and the other I was hesitant about calling since he has been over used already with the magazine. It just so happens that May has gotten to know this gentleman on a personal level as well. In speaking with May earlier I put her on alert to go ahead and call the guy since she could get a hold of him faster. When Mr. Yellow called back to the offie to see if contact was made with this gentleman, he scolded me like a child on the phoen because I didn't contact the guy. He figured since he asked me to do it, that I should have done it and not doing it was somewhat disobeying or going against what he asked me to do. When I told him that I figured we would have a better chance of getting hold of him if May contacted him, Mr. Yellow didn't want to hear it. Nevertheless I sucked it up and that same pain in my stomach that I thought I had gotten rid of returned.

For three weeks or so I have been dealing with a nasty indigestion situation along with minor heartburn. Funny, today I didn't feel any of the pain or discomfort that I normally feel in the morning and sometimes throughout the day until I received that phone call from Mr. Yellow. I did manage to enroll in with an individual health care plan with Blue Cross Blue Shield that is affordable. My card is expected on the 1st.

*two min pause*

Now I'm really laughing. My mother just brought me my horoscope for this week, printed in The Washington Informer.

Aquarius: Tempers may flare around you this week but it's nothing personal, so keep your mind on your own work and let others act up. You'll be doing yourself a big favor if you get some exercise this week.

Reunited: The Camp Family

2006-08-13T20:35:00.000-04:00

A couple of weeks ago I received an email from my mother. What's funny is the fact that I hardly ever open any of her emails. They are all usually forwarded jokes, celebrity photos and some other nonsense that have been floating around since the world has gone gung ho about the internet. Somehow my instincts told me to open this particular email, even though it didn't have an eye catching subject.

There it was. An informal announcement about the Camp family reunion taking place Labor Day weekend. I can't tell you how many times I had to reread the message to make sure I was seeing what I was reading. The family hasn't been together since the mid-90's. Usually when we came together it was during those sad occassions - yanno funerals and if someone was having a get together of some sort it was only a certain sect of the family.

In light of the recent death of a cousin that I hardly knew - who was only a few years older than me, some cousins decided the family has been long over due for a reunion. As all of the original 11 Camp children have passed on, it has been left to the army of decendents to keep the ties. What a task this seems to be. I can sit here and ramble on about my great-great grandparents Willie and Currie Camp and their 11 children, but when you start to talk about my cousins, the rambling will start to sound like a passage from the Bible - yanno the whole "James and Dollie begat Doris and James Jr. Doris begat Norman and Cecelia. Norman begat Quinten and etc."

I love the fact that my family is so huge, but the sad thing is, by the time my generation of cousins and I came into the picture, each sect of the family was starting to break away and it seemed harder to keep the ties as the elders began to pass on. Growing up I would hear all the wild stories off how all 11 Camp children came together every Friday with their familes and it was like a family reunion all year round. My great-great grandparents had a huge house on Jackson Street in DC which is long gone from the family. I wish I grew up around that time or at least been a fly on the wall. Between my great-grandmother, Granny, and Aunt Veat, the sister that was closer in age to her, those two were the party hardy girls. Well actually, as I sit here over my grandmother with a few of my cousins, my mother and Aunt P as we swap stories, I'm hearing that all of the Camp girls were a bit "off the hook."

With the family reunion in a a couple of weeks, a few of my cousins have convened here at my grandmothers to gather family photos and scan to the pictures to be included in a CD/photobook for everyone in the family. It's been very amusing seeing the pictures and hearing the stories behind them.

I just can't wait for the reunion to hear who is gonna tell the biggest lie or tallest tale about how what situation became to be.

360 of Seeking Freedom....

2006-08-06T23:14:00.000-04:00

It's amazing. A year ago this month I was doing a count down of how many days I left in the Federal government. I called it my emancipation day. I was going to be free from the bitterness and anguish I had felt over the last few years at that place. However, I was sad about the extended family I was leaving behind. In my bittersweet departure, I didn't know what laid ahead for me and I was scared to death. The start of the fall season was a harse reality for me. My money ran low to the point where I was seeing red in my account for 30 days straight. I began to feel doubt about my decision to resign without another job confirmed. It wasn't long before I jumped into a safety net of some sort where I took on temp jobs. Then at the brink of spring my future started to look up as I was offered and I accepted my current job.

Yet, even now as I stand here at the anniversary of my emancipation from the government, I'm seeking another one. It's not that I'm ungrateful and don't see the blessing in what took place through the past year. It's just that I feel burdened by this hovering cloud. It goes back to my feelings about this job and how I compare it to a shoe. I like the style with the heel and all, but the fit is a bit too tight.

This past Thursday, after our little meeting with the officials at a local radio station, May and I decided to go out to eat. She did most of the talking during dinner and I tried to act as if I were interested, but to be honest, I really wasn't . No, I wasn't still mad at her from her raving on about the cover of the latest issue of the magazine and her crybaby attitude over ad space for her ad. I just wasn't interested in what she had to say. Needless to say, I did begin to feel a bit sick during dinner too. Maybe it was just the whole scenery, me at Zola's with May and room full of folks talking about nothing. It was the worse feeling in the world for me...literally.

I still don't know how things are between Mr. Yellow and myself. Earlier in a week there was obvious tensioon between us and he felt compelled to email me and call me out on my sarcastic approach to him. I did respond, in a longer email, calling him out on a few things as well. In the end we both agreed to try to work on our communication a bit more. Yet, I still feel kind of uneasy being there.

As I said in the beginning when I first started to work with Mr. Yellow, I knew his company was not a place for me to drop anchor. It was a place that would serve as a stepping stone for me. What I didn't expect was for me to feel so down about the whole thing within six months. What I would like to do is find something a bit better with a better salary, with benefits that I can afford and still work as a freelance editor/writer for the the business magazine.

We'll see. We'll see.....

Wuss or a Woman?

2006-07-29T21:24:00.000-04:00

They say that when you buy something big, like a house, it's natural to feel remorse once the reality of the situation sets in. I'm guessing it kicks in when you first receive your morgage statement, or if the house is a "fixer-upper" the cost going into the house and some of the renovation challenges makes you doubt your purchase. If "buyer's remorse" is something you feel once you start to doubt your purchase, what is it called after you have "bought" into a job?

Here it is. I'm a month shy of reaching the six months mark at the new job, but yet I don't feel as passionate about it as I had the first two months. Yes, I know about the honeymoon phase and I know I'm long pass that phase now. Yet, as I sit here and write this I still wondering if I'm being a total crybaby about the way things are turning out so far or is this job not really the pefect fit for me. What's scary is the fact that while on my way to work last week, I began to feel that same discomfort I had at my last job, when I was in the government. I literally felt a pain in my stomach as I rode through Captiol Hill and then reaching Mr. Yellow's office. Somehow I chalked up the pain to be just gas and I sucked it up and went into work and prayed for five o'clock to hurry.

For the past month or so, I've gotten to experience Mr. Yellow's true colors as a supervisor. On one hand I feel it's understandable for him to be the way he is because it's HIS business and this is how he eats. However, sometimes some of his actions and comments are uncalled for. A particular thing that borthered me was during some time last week. One of the out of the office co-workers, Ms. AKA, has been dealing with the recent death of her father. Ms. AKA is another writer and we work back and forth on (sometimes) writing and reviewing material to be submitted to a DC government client of the firm. In being sensitive towards her situation, I didn't bother her when it came to reviewing some new material that came through. I went ahead and reviewed it for myself. When Mr. Yellow asked me about it he still wanted me to foraward the material to her. When I told him about how I didn't want to disturb her at this time his words, verbatium, were

"Well until she says she can't handle it, then you move it along, but until then just pass it to her."

I thought that was a bit insensitive of Mr. Yellow and I'm mad at myself for not speaking up about it. However, what I think happened next made him rethink it. I ended up sending Ms. AKA an email and Ccing Mr. Yellow. My first thoughts to Ms. AKA were of me sending my sympathies and letter her know that if she needed anything that I would be available to her. Then I dropped down to another paragraph letting her know that I had already reviewed the following material, and if and only if she had the time to do so to review it. However, if she was unable to do so, just let me know.

No sooner had the email gone out, Mr. Yellow buzzed me on the intercom and told me to just go ahead and forward the material to the client. Maybe after he saw the email and thought about it, he came to his senses.

What's been bothering me the most about this job is that for the first time ever I'm starting to question my writing skills professionally. It's one thing for me to write something creatively and for leisure and have my doubts about it, because I find that those that read my work may see something in it that I may have never been able to see. Yet, when I do something on the journalistic/media side it's another ball game. The content may not be as "free" and instead of conveying my thoughts, I'm conveying a messsage that (I hope) will inform others.

What has me at this point of question is due to a somewhat long and drawn out ordeal. For a whole month I had been working on a story that will be published in a DC government publication the the firm produces. There's been a whole bunch of back and forth with the review and edits of the story, but in the end, the approved version still wasn't an accurate version. for the past week, I've working to save the intergity of my name and the name of the organization that I interviewed, by revising and imputting accurate information. Apparently the folks at the DC government agency that the publication is really from weren't too pleased with me submitting my revisions of the story after they had approved another version, the not so accurate version.

They felt, along with Mr. Yellow, that I did a total rewrite of the story. When in reality all I did was take out the wrong information, switched a couple of paragraphs around and inserted correct information. Yet, everyone was in a tizzy because they kept calling it a rewrite since I didn't work from the original approved story, which I actually did. In a meeting with Mr. Yellow, he claimed he wasn't faulting me, but yet he sat there and said I mostly likely didn't follow correct protocol, and in so many words said that because I was a journalism major in school I should know better than to have someone dictate or rewrite what was already written. I told him that is not what happen. I also mentioned the fact that "you" don't want to go around printing incorrect information neither.

I still don't know what is to become of this story. My point of contact is aware of the situation and she is sorry that this is taking place. She did overwhemling thank me for my hard work and is even considering pulling out of the ordeal. However, Mr. Yellow suggested that she go back and review the approved version and just write down what needs to be done in bullet proof form. From therer we would take the bullets and discuss them over with the client at the government agency. Will they approve or won't they?

As much as I like this job, I just don't know what to do right now. I'm faced with an unorganized out of the office freelance magazine staff, an aggressive superficial beauty queen who can be spoiled and doesn't understand the word "no" because it's not in her vocabulary, a boss that can be very impatient and stubborn, the brother of the boss whose presence really causes me discomfort when he comes around, no health benefits - well they were offered, but because my check is already low getting the insurance would make my check nonexistent, a salary that is lower than what I was making in the government, and an acquired uneasiness when I'm around my boss, because he can be very worrisome to the point where it's annoying and interrupts my writing.

Maybe all of the things I mentioned is merely child's play to someone elsewith (perhaps) bigger challenges. However, it's not like I'm not trying. I am trying to stick things out and work around some issues, especially in regards to the unorganized magazine staff. Howver, lately I've been asking myself this really worth it. Then I start comparing my situation to a shoe. I like the styleof the shoe and the heel, but it's a tad size too small. I feel cramped somehow and I need to breathe. Then, I start pulling out the resume to update. No sooner than that, I start skimming through the job ads. Before you know it, I've applied to five different companies.

All I can do is wait and see if all of this is really meant to be.

Am I really being a wuss about this or am I'm being as much of a woman as I can be?

Smack My Bitch Up!

2006-07-19T21:43:00.000-04:00

It took everything in my power to restrain from striking one good blow to May's head this evening.

I was already a bit irritated at the fact that Mr. Yellow called me into his office this morning and acted like he was going to put total blame on me for the further delay of the summer issue. In so many words I was trying to let him know that it really wasn't my fault. I had done my job to ensure that the editorials were in, but as far as the ads go... either a company was dragging their feet about submitting an ad or May was constantly making new contacts and sending over new insertion orders. However, in my stammering to find the right things to say, I don't think I communicated that point effectively. Nevertheless, today's brief meeting with Mr. Yellow was a bit pointless and a total waste of my time.

During the course of the day, I was in an okay mood, but I had Prodigy's Fat of the Land cd in my computer drive with Smack My Bitch Up on repeat. I was in a serious work/writing mode as I was editing and revising an article for another publication for the firm. I spoke to May during the course of the day and I was fine until a conference call that caused my irritation to come back. The conference call was with a potential sponsor for the networking reception we are planning for the magazine. Actually my irritation was towards both, May and the lady in the potential sponsor's office. Neither was listening to the other. The end result, a slightly nasty email from the lady asking that we no longer contact her.

By the time May came into the office to pick up her package, it was hitting close towards the end of the work day and I was in the process of wrapping the last article I had been working on. At first, I wasn't bothered by her visit much. As she spoke I tried to listen, but my mind was steadily concentrating on what I was writing. Then, she went to get a look at the layout of the magazine. When she called to me, I went to see what was up.

To my surprise she had much to say about the cover of the issue. Now, I'm open to any suggestions, comments and opinions, but what she said today just really rubbed me the wrong way. For one, the cover concept was to have for the leading female entrepreneurs featured in the publication to appear up front as leaders. Behind them the young ladies of the the tea society would stand in as future entrepreneurs. The concept actually worked for the cover. However, May seemed to have a problem with the fact that the young ladies were in hats. I reminded her that the photoshoot took place during annual fashion show of the tea society and even told her that the hats are part of what the society is all about. The hats go along with their ettiqute training.

When she made the comment that the "girls look like they are out in a field in South Carolina picking cotton," I shot her this glare. Then she continued to say that "some of the girls shouldn't have been in the picture," because they weren't photogenic enough. WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!?!?!?! Then she questioned the concept of the photo.

I tried to hold my irritation in, but I could tell it was seeping out as she did as well. She tried to back up and say she was just being real, but as I further explained the whole thing about the hats in relation to the tea society and what their mission is as far as helping out disadvantage youth, her comment came out as superficial as my wig I had on today.

"I wish I would have known, I would have gone to the shoot or tried to see if I could get someone to come in and do their make up, or I would have donated some clothes or something."

I was getting ready to explain that was not the point for the show, but I saved my breath. Obviously she doesn't know how big or how well known the society's fashion shows are, especially when you have "The Who's Who" of the fashion world there. Then she continued to question the concept of the photo and when one of the designers told her that I had, she tried to soften up by saying, oh the concept is good, but she doesn't think the photographer captured it right. With the rest of the designers standing around and getting a good look at the photo, they got the concept and found the photo to be fine.

I really wanted to tell May to fuck off. I guess... no... I KNOW... I'm taking her comments a bit personally, because not only is this issue that is coming out my baby, but the "young ladies" in that photo are my babies too. As a member of that society, I know what they stand for and I know what it means to wear those hats. While I may not be as active as I should be, I still care about everyone that participates. To hear someone call "my babies" some children wandering aimless in a cotton field.. well for lack of better words..... those are fighting words.

Yet, I'm a grown woman (so they say) and I pick and choose my battles. I walked away from her in an attempt to calm down some before I said the wrong thing. My irritation was pretty obvious by then, because as I walked away May whined, "Don't be maaaaaaaaaaaaad."

I had very little to say to her for the rest of the time she was there. I gathered my things and closed up shop for the evening. Unfortuantely, my ride couldn't come and pick me up fast enough as may continued to make conversation with me. I spoke, to not seem fully rude, but in all honesty what she said went in one ear and out the other.

What's funny is, everything that has taken place in the last couple of weeks, between Mr. Yellow's bull headedness and May's latest comments has me seriously thinking about how long do I want to stay with the firm. Granted I just got the job a few months ago, today I did something I haven't done since March. I briefly cruised Craigslist online, but mainly looking for a freelance gig and maybe subconsciously looking for something a bit better and bit more organized.

I don't know how to explain it, but I feel as if I'm caught up in some kind of superficial world, especially when I'm working with May. Everything is about the money. I understand it, especially from a business perspective, but somehow I feel that it's really not me. Again, I don't know how to explain it right now, but I feel as if the agenda is called "being selfish." Everything is about going for self, especially when it comes to Mr. Yellow and May. I'm like that to a certain degree, but overall I like to give, especially when the means to do so is right in front of me. I'm not so cut throat or highly aggressive as they are. One thing I miss about my old job, is being around level headed people such as JM and Ms. C and even Ms. J. One of the things that I still think about, is JM's words to me on the day I left.

"Keep positive people in your life."

In the midst of all of this, I've been thinking a little bit more about the charity event that I would give next summer. I want to do something for the youth. I've been mentally hashing out how do I combine my love for music, especially underground music with the youth here in DC, and if I can, tie in some of the kids in the community where Nisha's student's are from in Pompano, Fl. Maybe that's a bit ambitious, but I know that is a future part of Shekinah's mission once the non-profit side is established.

Yet, in all my thinking, today was the day that fully confirmed...my transition period isn't over. This is still just the beginning as I'm still morphing into something stronger and starting to realize and understand even more... who I am.

Welcome to Miami

2006-07-17T22:29:00.000-04:00

I arrived in Miami Thursday afternoon half excited to be there and half sleepy from not getting much rest the night before or on the plane. However, when I finally saw Nisha's face I lit up...we lit up as we embraced each other. Though we are in constant contact with one another, we hadn't seen each other since 2002 when she was living in New Orleans and I traveled down there to attend the Essence Music Festival. I missed my friend, but when I finally had a good look at her I could tell she was going through hell. I already knew the deal before I got down there. She's an English high school teacher and being that teachers don't get paid over the summer, she is basically hustling (the legit way) trying to make ends meet. She was struggling a bit financially and she was upset that she didn't have the funds (like she wanted) to really have a good time with me.

Initially, our plans for my arrival was simply as follows; take care of business with the publishing company on the day of my arrival and the following day. That Saturday we would hop on a ship for a one day cruise to the Bahamas. We would attend church on Sunday and whatever was left of the day to do whatever. Then of course, I would return home on Monday...today. Well, the days leading up to my departure for Miami, I told Nisha not to worry about not having enough money for my visit. I knew that we could still have a good time and I'm sure that this won't be my last visit to the Miami area.

Thursda, after my arrival, we had a brief meeting about the publishing company. However, in the days that followed I just wanted to make sure that she was okay in what she was going through. She seemed a little depressed and I somehow took on the job of saying and doing crazy off the wall stuff and even encouraging her, listening to her and just being there to make sure she was okay. Friday after she attended a teaching seminar, we ventured to the grocery store and came back to her place to cook dinner. She showed me a neat trick she does when she bakes chicken. I'm dying to try it here at home. We had company over to join us for dinner and everything was good. The laughter, the food and the conversation lasted into the night.

Saturday, I told Nisha that we were going to act like tourists and cruise the hot spots of Miami. She's only been in Miami for about a year and she had yet to venture into any of the downtown or Miami beach areas...until I got there. So Saturday we spent the day driving through the tourists side of Miami. We passed by Star Island where, Shaquille O'Neal and some other famous people live. We rode through some other spots in Miami, but I can't remember what they were. We eventually ended up in South (Miami) Beach. On the way to South Beach I noticed the coast mixed with the skyline was beautiful. To think this part of the world is subject to hurricanes.

A late lunch along the South Beach strip and a walk on the sand was just what we needed. I had the itch to get a second tattoo, but Nisha couldn't make up her mind if she wanted one or not. Well, she wants one, but just doesn't know what to get. We watched the bevy of eye candy walk up and down the strip and on the beach. I noticed how a couple of guys made serious eye contact with me. One was so serious his friend had to pull him out the way of some oncoming pedistrian traffic. All I could do was laugh.

Nisha and I were invited to attend part of Alonzo Mourning's Summer Groove charity festivities that took place during the weekend, but what took place after our day in South Beach was far more important than attending a party. Nisha, wanted me to meet some of her students...her babies.. whom she has a special relationship with. What's interesting is, just has she watches out for them, they look after Nisha as if she were more than their teacher. Truly she is. After observing her interact with them she is their mother and the older the sister they never had.

She drove to Pompano, which is outside of Miami. She took me through the hood or the ghetto and showed me where she works. As I took in the neighborhood, I couldn't help but to think about Boyz In The Hood or any other thing that said "South Central LA," even though I was still in South Florida. The houses were these concrete ramblers (one level houses). Some with yardspace, some with not so much of a yard space. Kids played in the street freely. Music that carried a thick, heavy bass line or some type of salsa mix filled the air. Haitians, Latinos and just plain ole' Black folks filtered about. I saw the candy painted cars that are boasted through out todays "Hip Hop" songs, with one being this ugly fushia colored Volkswagen bug.

When I met Nisha's students I could see why she was attached to them and vice versa. They had her personality. It was not hard to see that these were bright young adults. They could be sincere with that right edge of bluntness and turn around with a joke in one breath. We must have spent the whole night talking to her students. However, there was one student in particular that concerned the both of us. Out of respect I won't go into his issue, but the night ended with Nisha and I on the verge of crying for this young man - a 19 year old, with a bright future, but because of a fucked up "system" with shady police officers he is now "caught up."

Nisha wanted this young man to meet with her pastor and good friend. The student seems a bit reluctant to agree to this, which is understandable. However, in the end he simply said,

"I need to talk to somebody."

Nisha assured him that he can talk to this pastor the same way he talks to her.

By the time night had settled, we were still talking to her students, especially with this young man in particular. Nisha and I unspokenly knew, this was far more needed than attending some Alonzo Mourning party or even attempting to get our tattoos (which we had agreed we would do after meeting up with her students). By the time we did head back towards Miami, our mood was solomn. What do you do when you want to help someone, but sometimes the situation seems a bit bigger than your own manpower?

Sunday, Nisha and I did make it to church and I have to say I felt a little bit at home. The church reminded me so much of my own...even though I hardly go to my own anymore. It was a baptist church in the Ft. Lauderdale area, with that deep souhern feel, especially as the deacons lead worship singing old spirituals. Nisha mentioned to the pastor about the young man and originally the idea was to have them meet sometime during the week. However, the pastor will be out of town for the whole week and suggested that if Nisha could find the student, that she should bring him to the church that instant.

With me riding "shotgun" in her truck, Nisha set out to try to find her student in need. She made all the necessary contacts with her other students and told them to call her if they spotted him. After driving around for a while, we went to get something to eat. Then, I suggested that we stay close to the area as possible in case someone calls and says they spotted him. In that effort, Nisha, showed me around Ft. Lauderdale, whichI had no idea was so close to Miami. What I found interesting was that the appearance of the beach area (Atlantic Dive) reminded me of VA Beach, but Ft. Lauderdale's beach seemed a lot calmer than South Beach.

Unfortunately, in the end, Nisha never caught up to her student and I spent the rest of Sunday resting and repacking. I was actually going to try to spend some time with Mr. Sigma, another friend of mine in Miami that I have seen in a long time, but he was feeling uner the weather. He did send me a text message saying he felt bad that we didn't get to have lunch or dinner while of I was there, but just as I told Nisha, it won't be my last time in Miami.

Nisha and I did end our time together by having a nighcap of drinks and dessert at a Chilli's near her home. It was hard to believe the weekend was ending and the next night I would be home in my own bed. When she dropped me off at the airport this morning I could tell she was about to cry. To save face I said something stupid and she started to laugh. We hugged and before she could start crying I said something else that was dumb and walked away. I know she will get me back for that.

I had seen both worlds to the Miami area. I seen the tourist side and I saw the real side.. even to the point where one street Nisha was driving on, everything gradually turned Spanish. Can you say Little Cuba? I even saw a few chickens running around freely in the street, the Haitian influence. I saw the beautiful bluis green ocean water and I saw some of the damage that last year's Hurricane Wilma caused. I noticed how most of everything was hurricane proof, even to the point of extra support for the palm trees. I saw the fasion designer, Versace's, house now turned museum on the South Beach strip - the same house he was shot in front of.

While I can honestly say I would not relocate to Miami (sorry can't fully get down with any place prone to hurricanes), I can still say I wouldn't mind using that place as an escape every now and then. I know I will back.

The Devil Wears A Not So Brooks Brother's Suit

2006-07-11T23:59:00.000-04:00

Funny how a fictional plot or story can mirror your own life. Though I have not read the book(yet), I saw the movie The Devil Wears Prada. In light of it's comic relief, it wasn't until in recent days that I felt that it somewhat mirrors my own life. Think about it. On the humble I hooked a job that is right up my alley and that is sure to open the doors of opportunity for me, just as the main character of the story did. However, their are a few differences. One difference being, my boss is a Black male that is running is own company. The second difference being, while the character's boss was known as the "dragon lady" for her beyond bitchy attitude and persona, my boss is a bit more tame than that....A LOT more tame.

Yet, since last Friday, Mr. Yellow has been a pain in my ass. It started with a phone call he placed to the office while he had briefly stepped away. When I was told he was looking to speak with me I picked up, only to hear him ask me the same question he had asked me only 15 minutes prior to his phone call. It was in regards to calling a couple of publications about receiving their permission to reprint their story. Before I could fully explain everything to him, he cut me off inquring further and even questioned my method of action.

I tried my best not to get "huffy" about it, but his comments were irritating as he sat on the phone and explained something to me that I already knew. When he was done and as calmly as I could, I told him that I understood what he was saying, however, what he explained really didn't apply to what we were dealing with. The phone call did end on a professional note, but I was still left a bit annoyed by his comments and questions. Actually, this was part of the reason why I was annoyed about the Saturday staff meeting that followed. I was not in the mood to look in Mr. Yellow's face still. I was a bit at ease once I found out that he wasn't showing up, but still annoyed about the fact that we were having a Saturday meeting and even more annoyed at myself for agreeing with it, even if it was at the Ritz Carlton in Georgetown.

When Monday rolled around, I was fine until Mr. Yellow came to me towards the end of the day and inquired about an article I am writing for another publication the firm produces. Initially, I was to have the article done by close of business on Monday, but I was bombarded with another issue that literally took all day. I told Mr. Yellow, about what happend and told him I would have the article ready to be sent for review the next day. It was then he wanted to get pickey and pick with my words. Initially I said I would "try" to go over it that evening at home, but when he seemed to have an issue with my operative word "try" that's when I said I'll have it ready for sure by the next day.

I didn't even make apologies about using the word "try." As I said before I'm stickler for not bringing work home. Unless it's something of an emergency then I'll do it, but otherwise when I'm off the clock....I'm off the clock.

Well, sure enough, the first thing Mr. Yellow inquired about this morning was the status of the article. I kept trying to hold him at bey as much as I could, however, the same issue that I dealt with on Monday, came up again today. Basically, the issue is pertaining to a networking event given by the magazine, that Mr. Yellow left up to May and I to plan. Origninally, he gave me information about the event almost a month ago, but he didn't bring May in on things until two weeks after he had given me the information. This is event is suppose to be small, but still a big "whoopty doo."

By the time May joined in, the place for the event had already been booked and the light refeshments already planned. All that left to do was book a speaker, seek sponsorship(s) and start marketing this event. The event was originally set for this month, but because of the other needed factors, May and I felt that the event would have to be pushed back. Actually, once we got the designers invovled as well, all of felt the same way. Having this event in July was a bit too soon with small man power that he has.

For a while, Mr. Yellow was being very bullheaded about not moving the event. May and I held a conference call with him this morning. I understood full well where he was coming from about the lack of setting firm deadlines, and his need to be competitive with other firms that are doing the same thing, but what he wasn't understanding was that quality does go hand and hand with timing. His thought process was more of, that quality has nothing to do with it, it's more of bad planning. While this is true, we were trying to assure him that there was no bad planning on our parts, and that May and I were actually trying to get things done to ensure this event is a success. Yet, the fact of the matter still remained, that if we did go forth with the event being this month, it would be rushed and by the time people received an invite, there wouldn't be ample amount of time for them to RSVP. Also, the speaker that I finally found was able to commit to the month of August and not July.

What pissed me off about the conversation, was Mr. Yellow's arrogance and sarcastically filled comments. He willing admitted to being narrow minded about the idea of the event being pushed back until August. His comments of "good job" or "how considerate," were not in sincere form. His whole tone was sarcastic.

He finally let up and agreed to move the date back to August. However, he claimed he was doing so to prove a point about the whole quality vs. timing issue. Then stressed the fact that he would have an issue that when the event time is near that we would still be scrambling. I didn't even bother to entertain his comments. I told him thank you and I gave him a brief update of what has already been taken care and left it at that.

Even after this morning call with May, he was still being a pain in my ass. Every few minutes to an hour he buzzed over the intercom asking me about the story I was writing. Finally, around the sixth time he buzzed me to not only check the status of the sotry but to alert me of a phone call, I told him I was trying to finish it up, but I was continously being interrupted. He told me he would tell the person to call me back and he left me alone. Well... he didn't leave me alone for a long. An hour or so after the last buzz, he buzzed me again. That time I told him I would have ready within in five minutes.

All in all, I was able to get a first draft of the story done and sent out for review. With only an hour and half left to go for the day, I had took a breather and walked to the nearby cafe to get a muffin and a Sprite. I had missed lunch and I was dealing with a dull headache.

Somehow I mananged to perk up when I received a call from Nisha. She was letting me know that she was preparing her apartment for my visit and she can't wait until I arrive. She asked me was I excited about coming to Miami. Immediately, I grinned and said... "hell yea!"

Just one thing though, I still need to pack!

What More Can I Say?

2006-07-09T16:39:00.000-04:00

There isn't much to say about what has been going on lately.

The Work Front

Work is going swell, with the exception of Mr. Yellow's brother frequent surprise visits to the office. His first visit really caught me of gaurd. My heart litereally felt as if it was going to climb out of my throat when I saw him walk through the door. I did one of those "Oh no he didn't" type of things in my head. I told him he wasn't slick. I knew what he was doing. You see, the last time I spoke to him over the phone he did the whole "I wanna see you" bit. I was so not having that. I told him the only way he saw me if he came by the office to visit his brother. Sure enough he challenged my words by showing up. Needless to say I do remain professional and half the time I act like he doesn't exists. He'll try to force a conversation, by asking me questions about his brother's whereabouts in the office, or where is such and such or what is the fax number. I'll answer him, but continue on with work.

Fourth of July

A couple of weeks before the fourth I was invited to a get together at my friend KC's house in the Northeast side of the city. I went back and fourth about it, because I really didn't know what I wanted to do for the holiday. In the end I decided to go and I'm actually glad I went. I saw a couple of folks I hadn't seen in almost a year and even met a couple of new faces, including KC's latest addition to her home, Angel. I can't remember what breed of dog Angel is but picture a Lassie with a black shiney coat. Angel is soooooo pretty. KC's last dog had to be put to sleep in May. He was suffering from cancer and has much as KC didn't want to do it, she had to. Even in talking to her about it, it was kind of a touchy matter. I'm glad she was able to "inherite" Angel. Angel's previous owners were living in an apartment and really couldn't do much with her.

Fireworks? While KC may not have had any in her arsenal, there was plenty to see from the people on her block. Even as I drove home, back to Southeast, DC was aglow by the glittery sky. Thank God it rained earlier in the evening, I don't think I would have been able to handle the heavy smoke screen that is usually left behind. The moisture from the rain helped clear some of that up.

Last Night's Thrill

Originally I had hoped to meet up with Mr. S for the evening, but after I realized that nothing was really confirmed my Saturday quickly filled up. After running a couple of errands during the day, I ended up coming home to get dressed for a show at the 9:30 club. The Brand New Heavies and Van Hunt were performing and I was meeting up with another gentleman friend of mine, Mr. Leo. Mr. Leo, who will be 37 in a few days, is someone I have known for about a year and is also an aspiring writer. He currently has a Sci-fi epic that is on the brink of being released. He's been courted by a few publishing houses, but I guess he hasn't committed to anything because he is trying to find the right fit.

Well, before I could meet up with Mr. Leo, I had to make my way to the Georgetown area to the Ritz Carlton for a staff meeting. It was atcually at the request of May, who is helping me prepare for a networking event pertaining to the magazine. She figured that if we could include everyone in this, we would bounce ides of of each other and see what we can come with. granted this meeting was a good way for use to bond a bit more outside of work, but still the closer the time came for the meeting I was annoyed by it and I really couldn't understand why. I think it's because I'm very true the philosophy of leave work at work. I like my weekends free for ME!Part of me really didn't want to show up, but I figured that would be totally wrong of me.

The meeting went as planned, even in the absence of Mr. Yellow, who was attending a concert. I must admit I felt a bit uncomfortable sitting in this very posh and conservative bar room of the hotel in some jeans and a very cleavage showing top. However, I had a feeling that by the time we were done, it would be time for me to meet up with Mr. Leo, and sure enough it was.

The show was excellent. Both groups brought in pure energy, especially the Brand New Heavies. The guitar licks, the vocals, the drums, the congos, the horns... a pure music orgasm for the ears. My company was excellent as well. Mr. Leo and I joke a lot about how Aquarians and Leos are a strange combination and last night only proved it as we cracked jokes even more and flirted a bit with each other.

However, it wasn't until we went to Busboys and Poets for a late dinner that I felt as if I were put on the spot. He began to ask questions about my pastlife. Not that the questions were deep, incriminating or invading my privacy, I was just a bit reluctant to discuss all that I had gone through with depression. From my answers to his questions, I punked out and never went below the surface. I stayed on the surface. I'm still fragile when it comes to that part of my life.

I did ask him about his family. From what he told me, it's just him. He has brothers and sisters, but because they all have different fathers they were never really close. His mother has been deceased for about ten years now. I didn't want my night to end with him, but when I saw that it was going on 3 am, it was time to call it an evening, or is that morning?

After saying my good night to Mr. Leo, I drove away to commence to do the most regretful thing ever. I will say it was an eye opening experience. A turning point in which I feel bad for. Maybe one day I'll have the courage to confront myself with the ugly truth.

I woke up this afternoon and logged onto my Yahoo Instant Messenger and found a message from Mr. S:

"sorry i missed out Saturday. i went to miami with my cousin since his birthday was Friday. i hope i can make it up with you soon."

Anticipating Miami

My trip to Miami is in a few days. I've spoken with Nisha and she is worried about not having enough money on hand to show me a good time. I told her not to worry about it, because I highly doubt that my time down there will be the last. the purpose for this visit is to make sure Shekinah is out of the woods and can attract soem investors.

I can't wait to see her. I haven't seen her in a few years since I was in New Orleans for the Essence Music Festival in 2002.

The only thing I'm not looking forward to doing is packing.

The Truth About New York

2006-07-03T01:08:00.000-04:00

As much as I love going back and forth to New York, it will forever be a sore spot for me. Today my mother's one day trip to New York had reopened a wound I've been trying to cover up since late February. You see, my trip to New York in March was suppose to be about me and my HIM. Yet, HIM let me down. I was hurt about it, perhaps during the trip as I dranked myself silly at the lounge I went to and have no memory of all that took place that evening into the morning. Needless to say, I still had my fun with my cousin, but my HIM......

I don't hear from him anymore and for some reason I'm not bothered by that like I use to be. What I am bothered by is the fact that he will have the same impact he has always had on me, if and when he does reappear in my life. I know that at the sound of his rich baritone voice or being in his presence my tears will silently flow.

Maybe he did both of us a favor by not contacting me anymore. Maybe I helped the process by deleting all of his phone numbers. Maybe we finally stopped the charade. Maybe all of the years we had were wasted. Maybe HIM and all that came with him were just a fragment of my vivid imagination.

That's it!! It was all just a beautiful, wonderful, chemical meltdown, tragic, mysterious, hauntingly false reality.

My HIM doesn't exist.

Business Meeting Turned Flirt, Dance & Drink Session

2006-06-29T00:23:00.000-04:00

May and I must have been fooling ourselves to think we would get any business done at the Juste Lounge. Seriously, who can work in the middle of Marcus Johnson's live jazz set and a belly dancing session? For the record we discuss some things pertaining to business. Mr. Yellow is in the process of starting up networking social events once a month, surrounded by the magazine. May and I did discuss something pertaining to the events , minaly what TV and radio stations we should contact in order for us to start publicizing the events.

We were on a roll for a while, until two guys sitting near us decided to buy us drinks. From there everything went downhill. Business agenda was thrown out the window and our flirtatious nature came out full blast. We conversed with the fellas the whole night. We even danced with them and they offered to cover us for all of our drinks and meals. Fun times indeed.

Strange how a Wednesday night feels more like a Friday. Nevertheless I had fun, especially as May and I acted silly on the dancefloor dancing to some ole school LL Cool J. I also had fun when I was dancing with one of the fellas, who apparently fell in love with my smile. I did catch his name and found out that he is a 39 year old Gemini that works in the government. He was sweet and I enjoyed his conversation.. well from what I heard of it over the music.

After two pineapple martnis I'm a bit buzzed and sleepy. It's a damn shame I have to go to work in the morning and still have a couple of articles to finish up. How will I ever survive?

Lady Interrupted

2006-06-27T19:25:00.000-04:00

There is tons of work that still needs to be done still to finalize the now Summer issue of the magazine, but today was just one filled with interruptions. To start, I was asked by Mr. Yellow to attend a breakfast/press session this morning at the National Press Club. The session or "breakfast" was to last from 8:30 until 10:30. Well, being thatDC is now the new Seattle with all of the rain and slight (and I use this term loosely) flooding, morning rush hour traffic has been horrific. Amazing what a few street closures in and around downtown can do.

I managed to cut through side streets (oh yeah I'm driving a rental) and do a whole new way of navigating downtown, only to still get caught up in traffic near the National Press Building. I made it to the breakfast just as the organization giving the event gave its closing remarks. I was escorted in and saw Mr. Yellow glance at me from his seat. It was hard to tell if he was a bit disturbed that I didn't make it on time. However, when we met up to greet each other he didn't say much. He just said "rough morning eh?"

For the time that was left of the breakfast, I managed to gulp down the last spot of pineapple juice and turn down the left over muffins that looked dry. I made a few new contacts through some brief networking and I made a maddash out the door. I wanted to stop by the nearby Freedom Plaza (on a few steps away) to drop in on the HIV testing event held by the DC Dept of Health. At the time I arrived folks looked as if they were still setting up the testing spot while a lil program was going on.

For the past week or so, I have been talking to myself about having a test done. I'm ashamed to say that in all the years that I have been having sex, I never had one done. Well, I had a test done for any STD detection when Iwas about 14 once my mother found out I was having sex. However, I never one specifically done for HIV. I tried to stay for the community event for as long as I could to get tested, but once I got a copy of the program and it looked as if the testing wouldn't get start until the afternoon, I sighed and made my way back towards the car. I knew I needed to get back to officeto complete a few things and I did want to at least beat Mr. Yellow back tothe office so he wouldn't get suspicious of my whereabouts...not that I think he really cares... but I at least want to remain professional and on top ofthings like I have been...yanno... not lingering outside of the office for toolong during work hours.

Well, as I continued back in the direction of the National Press Building,near where I parked the car, I was abruptly approached by a DC policeofficer. She ordered everyone that was walking in that direction to back upand cross the street (towards Freedom Plaza where I just came from.) For a minute I stared at her a bit befuddled by her request. Suddenly, I instantly went back into my mind and recalled the scene near the NationalPress Building just as I was arriving for the breakfast.

There is a Marriot that is directly next (if not adjoining) to the NationalPress Building. This morning as I was arriving I noticed the presence of police officers, but I thought nothing of it as I figured they were there tojust direct traffic amidst the congestion, which some of them were doing.Then I remembered when I walked out of the Press Building I started to seeSecret Service men.

Sure enough, the police officer's request for me and others to halt where wewere and to cross the street, was in line with the police and Secret Service presence. All traffic, auto and pedestrian, was stopped along that corridorof 14th street. For ten minutes or more I was stuck on 14th Street between Freedom Plaza and the hotel. I realized who was expected to show up at any moment and I rolled my eyes. Lucky for me (sarcasm here) I was the only DC resident among a group of tourists who were soaking up the scene in total excitement. As they were all smiles and thought or wondered out loud if they will see the President, I crushed their happiness by saying aloud "I wish the President would hurry up and get to where he needs to go so I can go to work!"

Only in DC can you really use the excuse AND MEAN IT - "The President mademe late."

After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, finally his motorcade approached the 14th Street corridor and it seemed like it was moving 2 mph. My immediate thought was the fact that White House is only two blocks awayfrom the hotel. He could have walked!!!!! Then I thought about... Umm no silly he's the President...especially not this President. Nope! He's certainly not a "DC Favorite."

While the tourists all waved at the limo driving by, I blurted out "Hurry up and move!" Just as soon as I said it, I got real quiet. The SUVs carrying snipers with loaded guns and sitting with the windows down in a ready to aim position hushed me up real quick! Though all of this was pomp and circumstance, the police, Secret Service, snipers...none of that was a joke.

Once they allowed the foot traffic to resume, I made my way to the car in the rain. It started up again as a drizzle and then a steady light summer shower. I felt my body becoming sticky. Rain plus the muggy weather do not make for a good time. Needless to say I made it to work, even beat Mr. Yellow back to the office. I cooled down some and tried to commence with my work. I managed to follow up on a few calls and that was it.I attempted to complete one last article that is left hanging for the magazine, but my mind was not in focus. Instead, it was drifting along ...something somewhere.

What I am excited about and focused on is the upcoming anthology I am involved with. I received word that things are going going according to plan the anthology will be published this August!!!!

Yet, in the midst of the excitement I am still bit tired...too tired to even be really excited! I need a "happy" pill.

Gosh I can't wait to leave for Miami...

Old Habits Die Hard

2006-06-24T22:34:00.000-04:00

Maybe his mother is right...there is some kind of mental competition that took form between us and maybe I am enjoying it. After all, it was me that set the trap knowing he would fall for it. Maybe his friend is right, I am winning. Whatever this is, I want it to stop, but I'm in this too deep. As soon as a way out is offered I set forth a decree that I'm gone. Yet, I stick around. Why? It's going back to the whole sadistic way my mind works when it comes to him and I.

Is it love, lust or is it me just holding on to an ill fated dream of what could have been verses what the reality is? I'm a walking loaded gun that is in the middle of a game of Russian Roulet. What I fear is, in all that I am doing... all that I say... all that I write about him.. all that I give up to him.. the gun is not pointed at him, but my gun.. myself... is pointing right back at me.

Maybe I am a masochist afterall. I like the self infliction of mental and emotional pain. When did it get this far? How could I have let it go this far? Maybe it's not the affection I seek afterall. Maybe it's the pain of it.

If only I were dumb... that way I wouldn't know any better.

Compulsive Idea?

2006-06-20T20:59:00.000-04:00

During my lunch hour today, I had (long handedly) written out part of an entry I wanted to post for this evening. I actually started to type it out, but I became disinterested. My thoughts were running past 100 mph like they normally do. I thought pass my semi-weekend blues and my concern for my little cousin. I zoomed past the thoughts I had concerning about my mother turning to ME for financial help this time around. My thoughts even wizzed past my mourning state of mind surrounding my aunt and her issues.

Sitting here, listening to music and with my thought knocking about an idea popped into my head.

I want to host a black and white event for a charity or a cause.

However, my plight...... what cause would I want to support? There are a few causes I have always wanted to become involved with. Women with domestic abuse issues. Breast Cancer. The youth here in DC (especially my disadvantage younger "sisters" and "brothers"). AIDS/HIV. Then there are thing things that affect me directly, such as my oldest brother dealing with lupus and my mother and the stroke/heart issue.

I need to seriously sit down that think about this. I need to find a focus. I want to challenge myself to see if I can pull this off. I already know two strong key people who could help me with this as far as the PR part of things.

I need to think and pray on this a bit more. I think this is something worth trying.

Why bother with the thought? I can't really explain it. Right now I feel like it's going beyond just silencing a nagging thought. I've always wanted to volunteer with something like the House of Ruth ( a shelter for abused women) and I always knew I wanted to try and help with the youth here in DC somehow. My last straw was watching the horrific year that students at Ballou High School were going through a couple of years ago in dealing with unnecessary violence. Then there are the kiddie car thieves that are in my hood. What the hell is a 7 to 13 year old that can barely see over the steering wheel gonna do with a car? All they wanna do is play "cops and robbers" for real with stolen cars.

I still feel ashamed for not being fully involved with the tea society I joined many moons ago. I can truly say the Judge is helping me to stay on track, by keeping me involved som kind of a way. Even if it is just to write and article about whatever program they have going.

I guess I have my work cut out for me now if I want to be committed to this.

Sundays

2006-06-18T14:02:00.000-04:00

There is something about Sundays that make it my lowest days of them all. When I was a kid I use to hate seeing Sundays come around. It was the day that I would set aside to do my laundry and I would always have "kitchen duty" after one of parents cooked. It was also the most famous day in which my mother and I usually clashed. Like clockwork, late Sunay afternoon or early Sunday evenings, my mother would find something to fuss at me about. Sundays were the absolute worst for me as a kid.

Now that I'm an adult, while there are signs of improvement, every now and then Sunday still catches me off gaurd. Sundays are now my days of meditation and writing. The house is quiet for a good amount of the day and I'm able to rest, unless I choose to go outdoors. Yet, when I'm in my vulnerable state of mind, I tend to feel fragile and bit sensitive. A sense of longing or yearning overwhelms me. I don't know what it is.

Here it is, another Sunday, but not just any other Sunday. It's Father's Day. Last year around this time I was caught in suburbia hell as my family and I headed to Waldorf, MD to Aunt VJ's house for Father's Day dinner. Gosh I wish I didn't loose that entry on that whole experience. That Sunday was really a low one. I felt out of place as my cousins were all married with children or with children on the way. They were all living a stable life. Aunt VJ and her Father's Day trivia games was just the icing on the cake that a single person like me needed to be in the middle of. The only other person there could have felt my pain last year was my cousin K. She too is unmarried, but she is a lesbian. However, even she isn't "single" per se'. She has a constant companion.

This year, because of my family's (more so my father's) political involvement with one of the mayoral candidate's campaign, we were invited to a cookout at one of the campaign ringleaders house. I'm not big on cookouts and though local politics interest me and I try to have an active voice, I'm not that big on being bored to tears by political motor mouths. Yet, I'm going to this shingdig, all because my father asked me to spend the day with him.

Right now as I'm prepping myself for this cookout, I feel as if I'm on the verge of crying. It's weird. I'm happy for the most part, but when I feel this big empty space somewhere from deep within, that's where I feel this sense of mourning coming on. Perhaps this mourning, yearning or longing goes back to what I have been craving for since....forever. It's the wish for someone constant in my life. I just want a companion that I can consume my time for and share my happiness and all whatever else is there. I feel like I have so much to give, but I can't be appreciated right now, because no one is there.

Right now I'm fighting the urge to be totally compulsive and do something really nice for Mr. S' birthday. We haven't seen each other since last August when we met. His birthday is actually the Monday that I will be returning from Miami, but when I brought it up to him he suggested that I spend time with him either the week before or the week after. I have in mind of something that I want to do (a show at the 9:30 Club and dinner at Busboys and Poets), but I don't want to make plans and his presence isn't gaurenteed or for him to think "Why is she really doing all of this? Is she cazy?" Nor do I want him to think that I'm some desperate chic.

However, even with him, in thinking about him, a twinge of sadness consumes me. Some of it is doubt that he may not be that interested as he said he is. Some of it is fear that if something does form between us, then I may not be good enough for him. It's a sad statement, but my mind actually went there. I'm just tired of going out on the limb for someone and they aren't fighting nearly as hard as me to meet me at the halfway mark. It's happened once before and a few times over.

Earlier this past week, I came to the conclusion that I am totally bored with all of my male friends. Each one of them has their own issues and while I'm trying to be supportive, my thoughts end up drifting somewhere else. Maybe I do have Adult ADD?!?!?!?

-----

I just took a minute to answer a call from my grandmother. Now I really want to cry as she told me the latest abut my lil cuz Andre, and my silly Aunt P. Aunt P pulled another disappearing act this weekend. To my grandmother's shock, Andre woke up crying, screaming and hollaring.

"She left me again."

I have to rent a car next weekend to take him out. He can't go on a whole summer like this. I wonder how long the Universal Soul Circus is in town.

The Heart, A Failure & The Fashion Direction

2006-06-11T22:25:00.000-04:00

The Heart Condition

Last Wednesday was filled was so much medical jargon that I could have been in the midst of a pre-med crash course. Things with my mother went well, despite the fact that she had to be admitted into the hospital for an overnight stay. The jest of everything is, my mother is sick. She looks healthy but she is really sick. Although the left heart valve is pumping blood, it's not pumping the right amount. The heart muscle in that area has weakened and the doctors don't know what could have caused it. The only guess they can come up with is, she could have gotten sick several years ago with a virus and it caused the muscle to go weak.

She won't need any type of surgery. Her condition is treatable with medication. She's pretty acceptable about the medication. She just figures it's just something to add to all the others she is on. Ever since her stroke she has been on a cocktail of drugs ranging from blood pressure pills to blood thinners.

I spent the time in the hospital room with my mother and father. Because part testing, or the cauterization, call for my mother to lay flat on her back for about four hours with an IV stuck in her left arm, a heart monitor around her neck and a pressure pad on her right arm as the machine took her blood pressure every 20 minutes or so. I had to feed her as she lay in the hospital bed. It was surreal. Me, taking care of my mother who was in such a vulnerable state. I will hand it to her, she refused to let the day sour her mood. We pretty much joked back and forth, especially as she had the thought about having a party in her room at midnight. She was in a suite to herself with a nice view of the front of the hospital. She was equipped with a TV and telephone in the room and part of the goodie bag she backed included her arsenal of word search books, a couple of magazines and books and her IPOD.

Then she joked about the fact of how she hasn't been in a hospital since she had me. I slightly went into a tangent as I mentally did the calculations and realized that I'm almost at the age when my mother had me. I thought it was odd, that my mother was ready to have a family in her late 20's and here I am still trying to stabilize myself and having a kid.. let alone a husband.. is pretty far off into the galaxy. I'll just take a companion for now with the potential of him becoming my hubby and then father of my children. Who knows....

Before my father and I left her for the night, the three of use huddled together and held hands as my father led us in prayer. I was already feeling a bit emotional about the situation, but I had to put on a front to remain strong for my mother. However, when I opened my eyes, I almost let go as I saw my mother in tears. All I could think about were the nightmares about death I had been having with me planning a funeral. I had to leave her room quick, because I just didn't want to break down in front of my mother. So, I hugged her tight, I lingered for a bit, but as soon as her nurse entered the room I was out the door and down the hall. By then I managed to successfully suppress my fragile state.

My mother was discharged the next day, but since her release I see the effects of both, the medication and the cauterization. She is a bit sluggish every now and then and she sleeps more than ever. My father or I end up driving her truck to take her to where she needs to go, but through all of this she has managed to still move on with her life as if her hospitalization was just a rest stop. Needless to say, since her release... I still don't get much sleep.

The Failure?

Sometimes I manage to have the kinds of dreams that bring forth a prophetic or spiritual message. I'm still a bit rusty in interpreting them, but the more I analyze them and pick up on certain signs, I see them for what they are or what they possibly mean. Yet, the dream I had last night concerns me. It's only driving me deeper into a nervous state with this magazine, that is if it really is about the magazine.

The dream took me back to school...college that is. I was in a cab on my way to school and I remember I was sitting in the cab with my IPOD ear buds in my ear. I was just grooving to the music and apparently the cab driver was grooving with me as I saw his head nodding to the music I was listening to. Finally I saw a familiar face and I decided to hop out of the cab and walk with this person. In reality she is a girl that I had a couple of math classes with and to this day I still see her around town. We only talked on a phone a couple of times concerning our class work, but a friendship didn't develop. However when we see each other we do talk for a few seconds and then go about our way.

In the dream I'm followed this girl into what I thought was the main building on campus. However, it was structured more like a conservative museum. The interior included a lot of the mahogany wood and marble flooring. I continued to follow this girl and somewhere in the dream I figured we were headed to our Algebra class. However, we don't end up in a regular class room. We end up in an area that looks like a jazz club set up. It's on a top floor and if we looked over the wooded railing we could see down into the lobby area of the building. I took a seat a table and girl I followed sat at another table. At first we were the only two and then others started to show up.

Soon, a live jazz quartet band started to play and everyone was mingling about. I soon learned that this was the class reward for their hard work during the semester. The professor wasn't present, but someone was there passing out a final exam that everyone, but me took the previous week. The person came up to me and handed me my test. I had a red "F" on my paper, and below that F was a listing of zeros I received for the test I didn't take, with their respective test dates. I started to panic, but soon I felt this sense of nonchalant-ness cover me. I didn't care and I ordered a glass of wine. When I got the wine I went back over the paper. That's when I discovered that the test wasn't mine. It belong to a girl I knew back in elementary school, who I haven't seen since I was around 13 or 14. What's interesting is, we share the same first name, but hers is spelled differently.

I called the person over who was handing out the test and alerted her that she gave me someone else’s. She calmly took the test back. The dream ended with me sitting alone at a table, drinking a glass of wine and watching everyone else have fun.

I Don't Know What I Am Doing?

I don't know if the dream had any relevance of what took place today. For one I feel like everything is a bit rushed with this issue, especially after dealing with a few setbacks, but if you want to get technical...technically this issue will be on time with the current production schedule set up which is quarterly. This issue will be called the Summer2006 issue. Originally, the plan was for the magazine to go bi-monthly starting with this issue, but part of that meant it would have had to been out by June 1st. Needless to say, we didn't make that mark.

Today was the photo shoot for the cover of the magazine and I found it odd that I was strangely calm about everything as I was getting dressed for it. Mr. Yellow, left it up to me to coordinate the photo shoot(s) with the "models" and the photographer. The concept for this cover is to have a diverse group of women who are featured in this issue and pose them as leaders or pioneers for minority businesswomen (this issue is dedicated to minority women entrepreneurs). Behind this women are going to be the followers, who were the young ladies of the tea society that I joined many moons ago and whom I did another story about for this issue of the publication. Being that today was a big event for the girls as they hosted and participated in their annual fashion show at the Four Seasons Hotel in Georgetown I seized the opportunity earlier in the week. I coordinated the shoot to take place before the show with the ladies featured as leaders and the girls posed as the followers.

Even though I was pretty calm as I prepared myself for this afternoon, my nerves and pressure didn't go up until my cab taking me to the shoot never showed up. I was supposed to meet the photographer at shoot location at 3 pm and the ladies involved on the cover were to arrive at 3:30. I was still at home at 3. I had to summons my father at the last minute to take me to the Four Seasons. By the time I made it there, three of the ladies that are going to be on the cover were there and the photographer hadn't set up his equipment yet. We only had an hour to do the shoot with the girls, since the show was to start at 15 after 5.

My brain was scattered as I was looking for the Judge to help me coordinate the girls. Somehow I felt I was loosing control. The Judge was asking me questions about the girls like "do you want all of them involved?" and I hesitated. The she begged "tell me what you want me to do!" I don't know how long I hesitated, and I didn't want her to loose her patience with me because she had enough to deal with concerning the fashion show. I finally did give her a straight answer. I told her I wanted all of the girls involved, which was roughly around 20 - 25 of them from ages 9 - 16 .

I don't know how long I had the ladies and girls wait for the photographer to set things up. I know I was really concerned for the girls, because I knew they had a long day in prepping for the show and some of them were complaining about their feet hurting from wearing their heels. I couldn't even enjoy the surroundings I was in, because I was on my toes getting things done administrative with making sure that everyone's photo release paperwork was signed and answering questions about;

"How much longer was it going to be?"

"What did I think about this staircase?"

"What is this photo for again?"

"How about if we stagger the girls a bit?"

I did notice the array of nice outfits floating by, but was too busy to notice the faces with them. I was told that at some point a nice looking Black guy about 6'5 was standing behind me. I was told that the guy was Andre (what's his face) the fashion critic from Vogue. I saw him, even spoke to him but was immediately pulled away to handle another matter.

I was even pulled to the side for a minute by the husband of one of the ladies involved. He gave me a compliment by saying in so many words he didn't know how I was doing it , but it seemed like I had things under control. At the time he said that, the girls were looking famished and the shoot still hadn't fully begun. I smiled and said thank you and he kept saying,

"You really look like you know what you are doing."

Of course in the back of my mind, I totally was loosing it and about to suffer a melt down when I saw that the photographer still wasn't ready and time wasn't on our side. Then I looked at myself in the mirror and felt as if I really didn't know what I was doing. I was just holding everyone in one section of the hotel until we had the staircase clear and the photographer was ready.

I don't know how he did it, but once the photographer got everything going, the shoot was a breeze. The girls did cooperate and once we were done with the girls it was just in time for them to take a five minute breather before the start of the show. Afterwards I had to see about the individual shots for the ladies involved. Needless to say, I didn't get a chance to get a peek into the fashion show. By the time I wrapped things up with the shoot, the show was in the phase of honoring their guests and the parade of fashions had finished up. I seriously had come to a fashion show to work!!!!

It was going on 6:30 and I called it a night as all I wanted to do was head home and eat some BBQ ribs that were waiting for me. I was famished myself as I hadn't eaten all day. I saw my ladies and the photographer off and I hailed a cab home. During my ride home, all I could think about was... Do I really know what I'm doing? I started to fret over other shoots to come this week and thinking terms of the layout of how each person should be in their photo. I got especially worried when the photographer started asking me things I thought he should have already known...

"What about this lighting?"

"Is that jacket that lady is wearing working for you with this background?"

I guess I feel this way, because I'm somewhat put in a position where I can call certain shots, but how do I make that adjustment? I mean going from a person that hardly had any authority to someone with some type of authority is like going from zero to 100 to me. Somehow I feel like Mr. Yellow is testing me. I know he probably isn't, but this past week I picked up a vibe from him. It was strange.

I appreciate the fact he is letting me do my thing with this magazine, but I'm just nervous about how it's all going to turn out. I know I said this is "my baby" and I'm going to see this publication through it's growth, but like all new moms (biological or adoptive) I'm going at all of this blindly. True I have the editorial functions down pact, but the other stuff.... I'm just a mere amateur when it comes to photography with just my basic knowledge about lighting and all. True I have a creative eye for things, but what's in my mind is almost always out of the ball park of what the theme of a situation is.

I know I need to rest and take a chill pill. Everyone keeps telling me things are going to work out fine. I guess I should start believing in that.

I'm STILL Not Ready

2006-06-06T20:26:00.000-04:00

I felt a sense of dejavu when my mother hit me with her bombshell late Saturday night. Just when I thought she had completely bounced back from the mini stroke she experienced last November, another health issue comes up.

"I have to check into the hospital on Wednesday. They want to check my heart. The left valve isn't pumping blood like it should."

We were standing in the middle of the kitchen when she casually, almost nonchalantly, told me this. I froze in my tracks. Then I tried to play it cool right along with her. It was like she was telling me something as casual as "the mailman didn't come today" in passing. A few minutes later I was up in my room, crying and on the verge of actually sobbing. All these thoughts immediately rushed my head. A stroke, as serious as it is, is one thing, but the heart... dear God it's just as vital as the brain!

Somehow I managed to calm down and call up, Cameron. I owed him a return phone call anyways and our conversation did manage to help take my mind off my mother's health issue. We spent nearly three hours on the phone laughing about some nonsense or another. Yet, when I was off the phone and my room was quiet, my worry for my mother settled back in.

When I did manage to finally close my eyes for sleep, they opened within a few hours later, because I couldn't take the dream or nightmare I was having. In the dream, I was riding with my mother onto Boiling AFB. We were passing my father's old job when I decided I wanted to show my mother some sort of shortcut to get to wherever we were going on the base. Somehow the shortcut led us back to my father's old building and I noticed how it was converted to some sort of triage. Immediately, I thought it had something to do with the Iraq war. I thought the wounded were being sent there first before they were bussed or helicopter to Walter Reed Hospital.

Then, when I noticed the kinds of patients that were there, I wanted to cry. They were mostly children and dogs. Some of the dogs were dead and a majority of the children were in comas hanging on for dear life while hooked up to all kinds of machines. My mother and I walked along this corridor until we reached this bed with a little boy that was unconscious and hooked up to a breathing machine. It turns out the little boy is my cousin from my father's side of the family. "Penta" is the grandson of Aunt VJ and Uncle Rich. In my dream, my mother looked as if she was on cell phone trying to locate Aunt VJ. I, on the other hand, had Aunt VJ on the brain but was desperately looking for one of my business cards to leave on Penta's bed....cot. However, each time I pulled out a business card that I thought was mine, another name would appear. I don't remember whose name actually appears. I pulled out several cards that looked to be mine, but they all had someone else's name. It was a different name for each card. Eventually I gave up and that's when I woke up.

For the past few days I have had no luck in getting a full fledge rest. I'm either rest broken or too scared to sleep for some reason. What's even scary is the fact that ever since I known about this, I've been seeing death in my dreams. I wake up with tears coming down my eyes, because in my dreams I'm planning someone's funeral and each time I find it hard to breathe and see myself getting dressed and wearing one of my mother's hats.

I keep telling myself, I'm not ready for the inevitable. I'm NOT READY!

I don't know what kind(s) of test are going be conducted tomorrow. I am keeping the faith that everything is going to be okay in the end. For the most part I am okay. When I see my mother doing her usual and is looking and feeling okay, then I'm okay. However, yesterday she was so tired and weak she could barely move. I worried and really wanted to go home. Yet, she was bit persistent about going to Pentagon City so I could take advantage of picking a few items from Nordstroms just before their Thursday sale. I ended up behind the wheel of her truck and drove her around.

Needless to say when we made home a little after 9 last night, she came in the house changed out of her clothes and went to bed. She was tired. Today she is full of energy with a side of the normal exhaustion she experiences. Tomorrow, we'll see how this pans out.

I'm just not ready....

Previews of a Future Marriage for Me?

2006-06-03T22:04:00.000-04:00

Though I'm physically at home, sitting in a chair in front of a computer screen that is causing a glare with my glasses, mentally I'm not here. As I'm listening to one of my favorite online radio stations, I can't help but travel back to two.. maybe three... summers ago when I was in Seattle.

It was my last evening there and my cousins along with my brother and I had just returned from our weekend venture in Vancouver, Canada. I had been dying to receive a taste of the nightlight in Seattle. However, as my cousin and his wife (then girlfriend) told me there really wasn't much to it. While there was truth to it, there was potential with one stranger we met at a stop light. After an exchange in conversation we learned that he was headed to a party that his friend was putting together. He led us to what looked like a closed down store or perhaps an apartment building that was shut down. The building was all white and stood alone in the midst of block in downtown Seattle that had office buildings and perhaps stores on the opposite side of the street. Not knowing what to expect I stayed close between my two male protectors, my cousin and my brother.

Yet, as soon as we entered the building I felt this strange spirit take over. I left my cousin and my brother's side and took the lead as I walked closer to the back. When we first walked in everything was white. I vaguely remember seeing stairs that led to the upstairs portion, but other than that you had to walk straight back. It was in the back I felt at ease. A make shift living quarters had been established with a kitchen and a dinette/living area with plush furniture. Then off to the side there were another set of stairs that led to a downstairs area. Everything about the place seemed to be reminiscent of the setting for the play RENT. the place was harsh with its warehouse feel, but yet colorful enough for you to feel comfortable.

What we learned was that they guy giving the party lived there and often threw these house parties as part of the underground house music scene in Seattle. His parties are somewhat the after parties to the club scene there. I briefly met the guy who was this beautiful dark chocolate dreadloc bohemian. Unfortunately for us, we had arrived early as they were still setting things up. The guy told us that the party wouldn't get started until around midnight. It was only a little after 11 at the time.

What my cousins, my brother and I decided to do was leave and come back after midnight, but my brother, Chuck, and I were the only ones that were hyped about going back. My cousin Tony didn't care for it and Shar.. well I think she was just happy to be out of the house for a change since her work schedule really didn't call for her to have too much of a life in the evening.

When I think back to that evening, I often wonder about the "what ifs" if we had gone back. I know I would have fully enjoyed myself. I wish I would have insisted that we go back, but it was a missed opportunity.

Sometimes I get the feeling I should be doing something in music. Yet, I don't know what. I can't sing and while I can be poetic at times, it's not enough to sustain a lyric or two. I know a thing or two about playing the piano, but my lessons were cut short due to my instructor's busy schedule. I have always wanted to learn the violin, mainly because it's something that my grandmother on my father's side did. I've also wanted to take up the guitar, both acoustic and electric.

I live and breathe music. I know I've said this countless of times, but music is truly my air. Music is somewhat spiritual to me. Earlier this week as I was listening to my favorite tunes pumping through my IPOD, I was thinking how of all my senses, it would be a shame to loose my hearing. I don't know what I would do if I went deaf and could no longer hear music. I could handle being blind, because my imagination is so vivid I can easily make up something, but to loose my hearing...

I wish I knew what it is about music that has me so high strung on it. Maybe my writing is suppose to be geared towards the music industry. Maybe, my conscience isn't letting me rest lately because of the unfinished article I have dealing with the underground house music culture here in DC. Even a recent thought that keeps popping up caught me by surprise. Lately, I have been having thoughts about looking into becoming a volunteer radio personality at a local radio station. It's a listener supported station that plays a lot stuff you would not on a regular basis from a normal station. I would love to have a shot at being a personality for an "underground" setting such as what is presented on WPFW. After all, I'm the same chic that still has a cassette tape of when I did a whole radio show at 6 years old. I was the on air personality, the DJ, the commercial and even did a full blown concert with my Barbie and the Rockers doll collection. You can't tell me it's not destiny for me and music?!?!?!?!

LAF teases me sometimes because when I tell her about some of my dreams they all involve me in the midst of some party. If she only knew how soulful and how energized those parties are in my dreams. The parties usually celebrate some type of "coming out" and they are always filled with nothing but people dancing to that disco deep dub, drum and bass, Masters at Work latin flavor, NYC Shelter groove, BuzzinFly UK dub, and all that is in between.

I wish I had this all figured out, the connection with me and music. After all, it's my brothers and my sister who are the musical geniuses with their singing and composing selves. My father use to tease and say that we should have been the Browne 5, modeled after the Jacksons. That would have been interesting.

Warning: I'm A Risk!

2006-06-02T22:02:00.000-04:00

I feel as if I should be walking around town with a big scarlet letter "R" tattooed somewhere on my body. The "R" standing for "(At) Risk" would be my walking silent disclaimer.

For one, technology really hasn't been on my side lately. It started with an issue with the internet service which is (so wonderfully) provided by Verizon. To be honest, my family has been a faithful Verizon customer probably since the 18th century. Okay maybe not that far back, but my family has known this company from back in the days when it was C&P Telephone Company, then it went some other name and another name. Just before it was Verizon it was Bell Atlantic. So here we are in 2006 with Verizon and things seem to be failing.

With a blinking DSL light on the modem, my time on the internet was basically pointless. I was only able to get hop on the internet for 45 minutes to an hour at a time. Sometimes, the timing was shorter than that. Nevertheless, because we have had this problem before (countless times), the last technican that came to the house advised that we have the DSL speed lowered. So I called to have the speed lowered and to make a long story short, we continued to have problems with intermittent internet service.

After fussing and pleading our case with Verizon, a technician came to the house earlier this week and finally service was restored. However, before we could jump for joy, our telephone service was disconnected. Since most of our household bills are paid online, by the time a payment was sent via online to Verizon for our telephone service, it was a bit late. The payment usually takes two days to clear and during the time the payment was made online the two days that it takes to clear everything was too late. So the household was without telephone and internet service for a few days. However, that didn't bother us, because we hardly use the house phone anymore and quite frankly, even though the internet is a bit vital for me in communicating, I get tired of sitting in front of a computer emailing, researching, and instant messaging. Nevertheless, Verizon is giving us a month of free service for the inconvenience.

While the internet and landline phone was down, when I did need to "reach out and touch someone" I tired my cell phone. What burns me about using my cell phone in the house or around my neighborhood is the fact that I don't believe there is enough fiber optics to support the reception. There are certain areas in my neighborhood that are just dead spots. In the house, I had to sit and lean in an uncomfortable position get a good reception. I guess I should note that I do not have Verizon Wireless as my service. However, I use to and I did love the fact that I could be anywhere, including underground in the subway stations and still pick up good reception... just not in my house or in my "hood." I don't know what is up with that. You would think being in DC, this whole city should be wired down with every network capability there is. Then again, the area of SE that I'm in is considered the original suburb of the city so there are a lot more trees and such that kind of interfere with things.

So if I dare use my cell phone in the house, I better say what I need to say in five seconds or less before I start to fade in and out and then the person on the other end is like "Hello?" Nine times out of ten it will be vice versa. They can hear me, but they will be going in and out on my phone and I will just roll my eyes and tell the person to call me later.

Just when things with technology couldn't get any worse, at work I suffered a somewhat major setback. Production with the June issue of the magazine is already behind schedule. Of course I'm not happy about this and neither is Mr. Yellow. While I have been busting my behind to check the status of this story and that from other writers, my own stories were incomplete. After conducting the last interviews I needed, I hauled ass this week to complete them. By Thursday, what I was going to send to the senior editor was lost. The file containing my articles was gone. I had to start from scratch and remember I had written. I was extremely upset, especially since one of the articles was the cover story! I did manage to have two of the four articles completed by today. I'm giving myself until Saturday evening to have the other two completed.

I will say, but Thursday morning I was ready to throw in the towel. I just knew it was some personal vengeance the real of technology had against me. Everything piece of technological equipment I touch lately just seems to go corrupt!

What shocked me is the fact that Mr. Yellow was somewhat understanding of it all. Just before I left for the day, Mr. Yellow called me to his office and we had a brief meeting. While he did express his disappointment in the lack of a firm schedule of some of the production matters, he realized some of it was beyond my control, but felt I could have done a better job of taking things under control. All in all, it seems like he is pleased with my performance thus far and he wants to give me a raise in a couple of weeks!!!! However, because my duties are split between doing some edits and research for the firm itself and performing editorial duties for the magazine, much of the money for the raise will be coming out of the money made from the magazine. Yet, he feels it's hard for him to make that call right now because the advertisements are not coming in for this issue like he had planned.

He's thinking about making some changes in that department, mainly thinking twice about having May handle the advertisement side of the publication. I would hate for anything to happen to May. Since I've gotten to know her a little better, I know she really knows her stuff when it comes to sales/advertising. However, I know that her heart really hasn't been into the magazine, especially since she is paid on commission only. She has been looking into a real estate venture that is actually looking up for her. She is now a licensed realtor and is working with a local realtor company.

After my meeting with Mr. Yellow, I had a weird feeling. I didn't feel "small" but a thought of still being a "youngin" came to me. I didn't take it in a bad way. I took the thought as this - the meeting with Mr. Yellow was just a reminder or a way for me to stay grounded. Not that I have been getting obnoxious or big headed about this job. I'm no where near that mark (Thank God!). I only allow cockiness in my dreams. I think sometimes when I get a moment to think or to day dream I see myself being something bigger. I keep thinking back to my father's sudden prediction of me being the "jewel" of the city. Sometimes it's a bit scary and overwhelming when you cannot only see your potential, but FEEL it as well. I'm well aware that I'm still in a growing phase and all of what is going on with the job is just that, another lesson.

Anyone reading this is probably wondering how I had all of this to say and still consider myself a risk? Well here's the real reason why I need the big "R" on my chest. After work today, I stopped by Bank of America to speak to the branch manager about the reason(s) why when I deposit my paycheck there is a hold placed on them for ten days. You see, I get paid weekly and the job doesn't offer direct deposit, which is something I was spoiled by when working with the Federal government. The first time I went to deposit my paycheck there was a hold placed for ten days. After that, I decided I was going to go to the bank that the checks are distributed under, M & T Banking, and cash them there and take the money to my bank.

Well I caught a lot of static with M&T about me trying to cash my checks. First I was upset about their hours on a Friday. Most banks have the convenience of staying open until at least 6 or 7 pm for their customers. Not M & T. I found one near my house that is open on Saturdays. Of course the standard procedure for cashing a check in a bank is to show two proofs of IDs. Well for me, that would be my driver's license and my student ID from Howard University. For three Saturdays in a row, I went into this M & T bank and cashed my checks with no problem. By the fourth week, they wanted to shake me down because they had issues with my student ID, since there really isn't no expiration date on it. Even when I went to another branch they had the same issue. I ended up going to a Western Union to cash the check.

So, when I talked with a Bank of America manager today, I was told the reason for the long holds on the funds is because several months ago my account was showing a negative balance for 30 plus days. Thus, putting me in an "at risk" category because "I didn't take care of my account." I'm guessing all of this went down during the fall when I had just resigned from my old job and was out of work for a month or two, before I took on the temp job. The manager's advice to me was to wait 90 days and the holds should be taken off the account and I should be able to deposit my paychecks with the funds being released within a day or two... that is if I stay off the negative side for a while. I don't think that should be a problem.

I will say what has helped my account to grow some is the tax refund I received. I haven't been spending. I've been holding funds mentally on the side as I know what I will need for my trip to Miami. I haven't purchased my new bed yet, but I'll probably do that when I return from Miami. I want to devote a couple of weekends to just tossing my old furniture and ditching a lot of old junk in order to redo my bedroom.

I'm actually looking forward to that task.

My Confession

2006-05-28T13:11:00.000-04:00

I began writing a full length entry, but at the expense of sounding like a broken record I stopped writing.

It's strange, while I do feel happier about my life, I am still struggling with a certain part. How do I overcome lonliness? I thought I had this part of my life beat. However, slowly but surely I am turning to my old habit; the quick fix of sex. All in the name of wanting affection.

It's scary, because I feel myself fighting against this everyday. I don't want to be who I was a few years ago. I'm welcoming the newness there is in my life, but with this newness came a whole new batch of fresh lonliness. It's more of, I have no one to share my excitment or happiness with.

So, I turn to the old habit of meeting up with an old friend, just for the sake of being wanted. What's disturbing about that is, I may not feel the same way the person feels about me. In a sense, I'm more of the user and the poor unsuspecting fool doesn't even know it.

Nevertheless, I chalk it up to be we are grown and we both have (sexual) needs.

I can be such a phoney at times. I actually hate it.

Being lonely is a very dangerous "place" to be.

Letting My Fragrance Linger

2006-05-17T13:08:00.000-04:00

Another prompt in the writing group posed the question:

"Your writing prompt for today is to write about a time when you were victorious in acknowledging the beauty of you without feeling the need to prove it to anyone else. Tell us about that moment when you were tested, and insted of trying to prove to deaf ears and blank stares, the value of your worth, you subtley stated it and walked off in recognition of who you are."

And so... I began my moment.

Strange...

I experienced a waking dream not too long ago. I was simply going about a morning regime of a facial when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. For some strange reason I thought back to a moment in time when I was told that I would be nothing more than a copy or a xerox girl. It was also pointed out to me that if I wanted to be in journalism it would be hard, simply because I'm a woman and even though it was unspoken, because I am Black.

That moment happened only a few years ago during my time at a Federal agency. I was introduced to this White lady who was to become an acting director of the Executive Secretariat office. During introductions, my supervisor proudly boasted to the lady of how I was a student at Howard studying journalism and how I had been on the job since high school. Without flinching or any other hesitation, the lady looked me dead in the eye from afar and said

"There aren't many females in the newsroom. You are going to be nothing but a copy girl and running errands."

The initial shock of her words didn't evoke any immediate emotions or reactions from me. I stood still for a minute not able to move. Finally, after a few seconds in time lapse I simply told her "no."

I never mentioned to her the fact that I had just completed an internship in which I had worked with a female editor of a local publication. I didn't even mention the fact that I was already published from working with that local newspaper and even working with the school's paper which has high recognition among the HBCU community and even mainstream. I held my tongue and let her think her thoughts.

To be honest, it wasn't just her. It was plenty others on the job who saw me nothing more than a low level to intermediate administrative assistant. However, she was the only one with enough "tiddy power" to say anything. I was... I am so much more. Though I never said a word. My supervisor and the few co-workers I was closest to knew it, but sometimes I wonder if they truly fully knew.

What angers me the most is how I let my emotional distress consume me. It got to the point where I almost bought into the fact that I would be nothing more than the average Federal government employee sitting behind a desk and pushing paper all day. I became bitter with everything around me. I was the "Black-woman-on-the-edge." It was when I started to feel bitter that I realized this wasn't me. I don't like the bitter feeling. I don't like to settle for average when it comes to my life. Because I'm creative I see things in colors. I can't just do Black, White, Blue or Gray. A spirit within me wouldn't rest. That spirit fought like hell. I cried a lot, I continued to write and somehow I did manage to reclaim a fiery spirit I felt I had lost or perhaps I never had at all.

It wasn't until I took a huge leap of faith and resigned last August that everyone stopped and took notice. I had sent an email to those I had gotten to know in those ten years. As eloquently as I could, I announced my resignation, spoke of the book I am working on and the documentary that I would love to follow up with and even spoke on how my future was unclear but I knew where I wanted to go and I had to have faith. The responses I received from that email were not surprising to me at all. Just about everyone I sent it to responded with,

"Tiffany, I didn't know you were into all of this. From this email I can tell that you ARE a writer!"

Who would have "thunk it" that after the fall season, a couple of temp jobs here and there, that by the brink of spring I would have the dream job or the job that I have been wishing and praying for..working with a public relations/marketing communications firm as a writer and editor. Not only that, working with a magazine that the firm publishes! Though there are some pains with this job, I still love it, because I'm growing as this publication is growing.

What's funny is the fact that as I looked at myself in the mirror that morning, I felt this sensation cover me. After staring at myself for a while I realized I was on the verge of crying. While I stood my ground in that moment in time with the White lady, just thinking about what she said made me want to cry. Imagine that, some five or four years later her words having that affect on me.

Unfortunately, she wasn't around to witness my resignation. She had become a volunteer in the "rebuilding" of Iraq and had been there for the last year. Yet, in the back of my mind I have always wanted some kind of revenge on her words. If I saw her today, I probably still wouldn't say anything to her. I would just let my actions and my accomplishments speak for me. In some way she did serve as a motivational tool for me to get myself together. Somehow I have always felt that if I failed, she would be right there laughing and going "I told you so."

I hate using the the "b-word" when talking about other females and I never liked the idea of pulling the race card so easily, but in all honesty she was a bitch, perhaps a racist bitch and I'm not using these terms lightly. I can even say that I never hated anyone, but when I think about this lady.. I feel so much pent up emotion I just don't know what to call it.

There is still a lot left in me for my fragrance to linger for a long while. this is just the beginning. I just hope that "Ms. Lady" will be able to catch a whiff of it and will stew in her own stupidity.

Pink

2006-05-16T23:49:00.000-04:00

It's strange. JM had been on my mind off and on for the past three weeks. I hadn't spoken to her since just before Easter. I had been making mental notes to make it a point to call her. I finally did this past Saturday. However, I couldn't get through. She didn't pick up her cell nor her house phone. Today, while at work, I dropped her a couple of lines in an email. Suddenly, I found myself wanting to rush to her as I read her response.

Since around the time of Easter, JM had been dealing with a situation concerning the raid and sudden failing health of her 5 year old niece. As JM explained to me, on Easter her niece had been complaining that she wasn't feeling well. JM's sister in-law took her daughter to the emergency room and after having several test conducted, it was confirmed that the little girl had fluid around her brain. The fluid was drained and she was kept for a few days for observations. Then, she went into a seizure. After that episode the doctors observed some more and noticed how she was "emotional and fidgety." Rather than to have her go through another seizure, she was given some medication to help sedate her. Unfortunately, she slipped into a coma and never came out. She was pronounced dead on May 2nd.

Since the time of death, JM and her family have been trying to cope with the situation. I can only imagine how JM feels. Though JM isn't a mother, her nieces are her world. They are her heart. Loosing any of them is like loosing a child of her own. Though I have never met any of JM's relatives, somehow I feel part of the family as has openly shared family details about their get togethers, family trips and so forth.

Today was no exception as she shared with me details of her niece's funeral that took place last Friday in New York. The detail that she went into as she talked about everything pink and the grand ambiance that went into this homegoing celebration was riveting. I found myself at my desk shedding tears as I read each line about how her niece was dressed in a pink dress wearing her trademark hairstyle; two pigtails. Alongside her casket was her favorite toy stuffed doll, Dora the Explorer. JM's younger sister sang "Behold the Lamb." Another relative performed a litergual dance from an Alvin Hailey piece. Pink flowers and ribbons adorned the place. As expected folks were crying, but JM's mom managed to hold it together as she delivered a message about the power of love. The family also used a couple of stretch SUVs, I guess as opposed to the traditional stretch limo family cars. JM said the hardest part was at the end. The family seemed to have lingered near the gravesite in the rain as if they didn't want to leave the little girl behind.

By the time they made it to an aunt's house in Long Island, the grief seemed to give away and was perhaps pushed just below the surface. The family laughed and joke amongst themselves as if they are there for another reason. I'm sure it was very healthy for all of them as the grieving and healing process will be for a while. Even JM mentioned how it will take her a while to finally heal. Everything was too sudden for her.

JM's ending to her note talked about the color pink. She admits that now the color has a whole new meaning for her, even as she associates it with other little girls. As I spoke with JM, I tried to offer words of encouragement, but I was utterly left speechless. The loss of any life, especially when it's sudden, is very hard to comprehend. Yet, when you are speaking about children, it's very difficult. You know that there is a reason behind, but you don't know what that is and may never know. All you know is, you feel hurt and angry for that child because in a way they were robbed at a chance at full blown life.

A few weeks ago I finally had a chance to see the movie "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants." I remember a scene with one of the girls and her newfound friend, who happened to be a 12 year old suffering from leukemia, were talking. In the scene, they talked about death. The 12 year old wasn't scared of death. What she as more afraid of were the things she was going to miss out on in life. Granted a 5 year old may not comprehend death in the same terms as a 12 year old, yet I can't stop wondering...if JM's niece was told that she was only going to be on this earth for a couple more weeks, what would she say? What do 5 year olds fear?

Sometimes when I watch my cousin Andre, I get a chill a down my spine, especially when he was a baby and growing into the toddler stage. I swear he communicates with God or my great grandmother, who has been dead now for over 10 years. I use to watch him look up at the sky and he would start singing. Then he would smile and but out in laughter as if him and God share a private joke. Sometimes he still does that. Now that he is almost 7, sometimes the things he says amazes me. Like, during the time with my aunt's boyfriend (now fiance') "borrowed" her car. He would look at my aunt and go,

"Mommy, it's okay. God will deal with Jeff. He'll bring it back."

Children have this amazing spirit that I can't even explain. I have always believed that. Even the ones you think are misfits have a wonderful and positive energy about them. However, what's unfortunate about a situation like that is no one has reinforced that positive energy within them.

As for JM, I told her that I would be sure to say a special prayer for her and her family. Sometimes, that's all you can do when it's out of your hands.

May God Bless JM's niece. A new angel in heaven.

Heads Miami. Tails Chicago.

2006-05-11T21:25:00.000-04:00

The traveling bug has taken a nice bite out of me again. This time, it has taken a huge chunk and now I'm anxious to roam again. My mini vacation to New York seems like a "once upon a dream" thing. Even though I went in March, it feels like it didn't take place for some reason.

Now, I am finding myself mentally calculating on which way to spend some of my tax refund money. I still have plans to redo my bedroom and I still want to make it to Miami to meet up with Nisha to finalize a few things with Shekinah. However, a new venture has popped up and it's with Kel.

Chicago!

Kel had long partnered with a few house music production crews in Chicago for her promotions business, BAE. For the fourth of July weekend, one of the production crews are dishing out some heavy party artillery and calling the party H.E.A.D - standing for House, Electronica, Acid and Disco - music that is right up my alley!!!! Even though I'm not much of a club person, I will rise to the occasion when house music and all the sub genres under it, and reggae/dancehall music are involved. I'll even party to some old school dance and funk.

It's been a while since I really partied and had such an incredible experience in doing so. I mean, the experience of being around people who are all about the music and just want to dance....no profilers and no one trying their hardest to spit a pick up line!!!!!! I love that! Surprisingly I saw that in the club I went to while in New York a few months ago, but I was in such a chill mode that I enjoyed myself just by talking to the few guys I met there that night.

So I guess not only has the travel bug gotten to me, but dance fever as well. I wish I kept up with the underground scene here in DC. I lost track after a few of the clubs that were home to house music closed down, namely club Red. However there is still the DC Sanctuary and Club Five. I just haven't found the gumption to attend yet.

So which way will go? Miami or Chicago? What about the bedroom? Well, I'll set aside some money for at least a new bed. That is my main priority with my bedroom. Everything else will follow suit in its own time. Although my refund is looking nice this year, I don't want to overdo it in the spending. I'm still working with a budget and right now I just can't afford two places around the same time.

Shekinah is suffering a minor setback and I'm trying to help Nisha out the best way I can from this end, but it's just hard. I need to be there. At least if I do Miami, I can do a weekend there. Chicago, because I never been there and things with BAE starts on a Thursday, I will need about a week there. Chicago would be the more expensive trip..with airfare and hotel.

My impulses are telling me Chicago and yet my mind is telling me Miami.

I'll think things through over the weekend. Right now I'm giving myself a headache trying to figure it out. Maybe there is a way I can do both, if not .... I'll flip a coin.

In Search of a Lyric to Complete My Melody

2006-05-09T22:39:00.000-04:00

I'm doing it again. I'm becoming excited and hopeful (maybe a little obsessive) about something that isn't a sure thing. Mr. S and I spoke yesterday via text message over the cell phone. Something about him gives me such an adrenaline rush. We spent half the day going back and forth on our phones. I was at work completing a few follow ups to projects and he....well there is no telling where he was; work, at the airport, or maybe in a hotel room on the other side of the earth.

It started with me sending a note that said hello and him responding in (probably bad) French.

"Bonjour. Cava? Je taime."

Of course he later translated what he said and from there we exchange other pleasantries. Actually, I wanted to speak to him on the business level, since I know a little about what he does and is involved with. I told briefly about my new job and how I may feature him in a future issue of the magazine. I was ready to leave the conversation alone when he agreed to find some time for us to sit down, have dinner and chat about a few things. However, just when I thought the conversation between us was over, a few minutes later my phone vibrates alerting me to a new message.

"How are you and your man doing?"

"What man?" I responded.

"The one that holds you tight and takes care of your needs."

A bit shocked and blushing just a little I fumbled around trying to figure out what to say. I managed to come up with something and it was actually something I had been thinking about all weekend long.

"That is nonexistent. This is why I am in search of a lyric that will complement and complete my melody."

"What melody is that?" he asked.

"Me, as I am. Flaws and all."

After I responded with that, I had to ask him a question, but ask it in the undercover Mr. S way.

"What about you and your lady?"

"Don't know what that is. No one can handle my schedule. So I have given up til later."

Now, obviously that was my chance to put my foot in the door to hold a place for me, but for some reason I felt guilty at the thought of even suggesting myself or being that forward. Besides, I didn't want to appear desperate or needy. So I took the spiritual road.

"It just takes a special person with a lot of patience."

"Don't know anyone with that kind of patience," He replied.

"If you are serious about having someone in your life, just pray on it. It wouldn't hurt to ask (smile)."

"I have already left it in His hands."

After I read that response, my heart started to flutter and for a minute or two I was blushing really hard. Then I felt a pain so bold in the pit of stomach that I literally stopped working on what I was doing. I stared at my phone with Mr. S' words written across the screen. A fear hit me.

What if I'm not the answer to his prayers? What if he isn't the answer to mine? I want him in my life in a bad way and I don't know why. I'm attracted to him... his "Joe Cool" personality, his humbleness, his kindness, his voice and his words. I'm utterly intrigued by this man.

It took me a minute or two to get my thoughts together to respond, but I finally managed to say,

"That's a beautiful thing my dear."

"Yeah. I had to stop being pressed."

Somehow the conversation made the transition into old school slang terms that had me texting things like "that's fly" and "that's just stupid funky fresh!" By the end of the work day I was blushing all the way home. I missed talking with him even if it was just texting each other all day long. I was filled with a twisted sense of excitement and sadness all at once. What excites me is the fantasy of it all, that something could happen between us despite any obstacles. What's saddening to me is the fact that time doesn't seem to be on our side and I still feel as if I have a few things to purge myself of before I become involved with anyone.

I wanted to tell someone badly about what has taken place. I did get a chance to speak with Ms. C today. While talking with her I had to question myself on my patience. Could I handle a relationship with man like Mr. S that stays gone all the time? Technically, my last relationship, with Hazel, was somewhat like that. However his disappearing act was not business related. Him not being around frustrated and angered me. I even told him on a few occasions how I felt like the lonely housewife taking care of home while the husband is away playing.

So could I honestly handle another "invisible" boyfriend?

"No," Ms. C answered for me.

Internally I had to agree with her. I hated going through what I went through when I was with Hazel. On the flip side, in the midst of me agreeing with Ms. C, another part of me tried to be convincing by creating a false reality that things could work out if we ever reached that level. That part of my brain kept saying "you all could be another Oprah and Stedman...just life long companions. No fuss."

The funny thing is, I kind of like the idea of being just another Oprah and Stedman, since I'm not totally sold on the idea of marriage...at least not right now.

Tonight, I talked to MO and told her all about Mr. S. In so many words, her advice was to let things ride. Hold on to him if I can, because she feels there can be potential. If they work out they do and if not then take it for what it's worth.

Right now, I don't want to be presumptuous about anything between Mr. S and I. I learned the hard way a long time ago that feelings and spirits can easily bruise and even dissolve when all the high expectations are nonexistent. If anything, I just want to get to know Mr. S more. I want to go below the surface of what I already know.

Who knows.. maybe..eventually.....he'll become the lyric.

Listening to:

Twisted
By: Ultra Nate

I can't stop thinking about it.
It's captured in my soul.
Crazy things you're doing
You know I'm loosing control.
The harder I fight the better it feels
When it finally takes over
Leaves my body shaking
The harder I fight, The better it feel
When it finally takes me over
Leaves my mind torn.

I'm twisted.
Can't believe what you've done to me.
Twisted on your love.
Can't believe you're making love to me.

I'm pushed to the limit.
Strained against the wall.
Driving deeper inside,Till you reach my heart.
The harder I fight the better it feels
When it finally
Takes me over
Leaves my body shaking.
The harder I fight the better it Feels
When It finally takes me over
Leaves my mind torn.

I'm twisted.
Can't believe what you've done to me.
Twisted on your love.
Can't believe you're making love to me.

Grown

2006-05-06T01:04:00.000-04:00

The other day a question was asked in the writing group.

"Ever hear the term, 'Why don't you grow up?' Write about the event that marked the end of your childhood."

While one of the ladies wrote about how she grew up the moment she brought her first born into the world and another explained how the day she entered the miltary at 17 made her into a woman, I had a different story to tell.....

My response:

"It's a bit tricky for me. I was the kid that was always told that I embodied an old soul and perhaps I was bit too independent or ahead of my time. I did things at ages that I am sure I had no business doing, but it wasn't out of spite or a call for attention. It was just me feeling as though I was ready to advance to the next level.

However, it took me just about all of my life (to this point) to realize that in the midst of my so called "independent" way of thinking and doing things as a kid, teenage, and young adult... I still wasn't totally independent. I was still living for others and not for me.

My turning point didn't come until last year when I turned 25 and started to live for me. Then in the latter portion of the year two events made me "women up. 1) My grandmother's husband having his stroke last spring and all the drama that followed. The drama still continues 2.) My mother's mini stroke last fall.

Thankfully my mother bounced back to an almost perfect bill of health, but it was especially after my her stroke that I realized the tables were turning. I was an adult and it was my turn to be the care giver for the ones that cared and nurtured me for so long.

It was almost a crash course for me, but I think I adapted and adjusted pretty well....

At 26.. I still have some ways to go, but I can honestly say... I have given away to the whole "innocence" of things.

Now I'm just waiting to hit 30 when I'm "officially" Grown and Sexy! At 30 I'm stopping the clock!

Done!!!! "

Venom Filled Alligators vs. The Jewel of DC

2006-05-03T23:50:00.000-04:00

The Alligator Dream

A couple of nights ago my mind roamed to another foreign realm of "LaLa Land." I started out in a room. It was a bedroom, maybe even mine. The beginning is actually a bit hazy at the moment for me to remember in full detail what I was doing. All I remember doing in the dream was putting some clothes aways in a closet.

Somehow an alligator appeared in my bedroom and it laid an egg in my closet. However, my dream did something weird where I ran out the house - well I climbed down a ladder first as if my bedroom were in an attic - to tell someone and ended up telling JB, a guy who in reality I met while fulfilling a journalism internship and managed to stay in contact with. In the dream I brought JB into my bedroom and re-enacted what took place, but during the whole dramatization of things, I noticed the egg was no longer in the closet but at the foot of my bed. I laid across my bed as if I were going to sleep. The egg then rolled off the bed and crashed to the floor... all the while JB was still there telling... or rather warning me about alligators.

I don't remember all that he said, but he did mention something about the alligators with black feet. I was told to stay away from them because they have venom in their bodies and they aren't affaid to use it. Then he said something about the alligators with white or clear feet, but I can't recall what he said. The dream did a strange flip flop of scenes, but one thing I remember is staring at this dangerous looking alligator with black feet. His eyes were cross and he crept up to me as if he was mentally calculating how he was going to devour me in one sweep. Strange thing was...I appeared to be scared, but deep down I wasn't.

I don't know how the dream ended. All I knows is, at some point or another another alligator appeared and I assumed that particular one was a female. It was strange, the two alligators staring at me and all I thought about was how to dodge the one with the black feet...the one I knew for sure with venom in his system. I was more so worried about the egg. Where had the egg gone to since it hit the floor?

Somehow I do think it's related what has been occurring with me and the job lately.

Daddy's Predictions

Last week, while in a slight intoxicated state of mind, my father made a statement to me that was a bit too eerie.

"One day soon, you are going to be the jewel of this city. "

Although I was a bit annoyed by his current state, when he said those words I felt a certain jolt to my heart. If I was absolutely sure, I could have sworn I stopped breathing for a few seconds. Why the sudden shock of his words? You see, being the dreamer that I am, part of me feels like I wanted to live not so much in the limelight of a scene, but just below the surface. I hate to bring up the whole Carrie Bradshaw - a la Sex in the City - cliche' of things, but that's kind of the idea I had in mind for myself. I always pictured myself as being a creditable, well known writer in the city that is gradually (on the humble) pulled into the circle of "in the know." More so, I felt this chameleon spirit as well, where I am involved in other projects and not just known as a writer.

Since taking this job, I feel that it's slowly coming into place. In almost two months, I have met or ran into more people that I once knew or know by association from another person. Even in meeting people that I have been interviewing, I find that I'm creating a bond with them. What's scary for me is the fact that how some of this feels like a magnetic pull. Where the person is the magnet and when I'm in range I feel the current bringing me in.

Case in Point

Sometime ago, I joined an organization that is led by a prominent judge who sits with the DC Superior Court. As it appears, this lady is a friend of my mother's and her husband, who is now a minister of a local church, use to work with my mother in the school system. A few years ago, when I was an intern with a local newspaper, I did a story on the organization and was so fascinated by how they help young disadvantage females, I felt compelled to join. At the time I wanted to be a mentor with the program, but suddenly I felt the time wasn't right. I was going through my own struggles and I felt the need to pull myself together first before I become involved with any child's life who may have deeper issues than I did.

Ashamed to say, I isolated myself from the organization, ignoring every email, call and correspondence by mail addressed to me. My mother caught wind of it and tried to nudge me into putting myself into action with the group. She stressed the importance of keeping in contact with "the Judge" and how it was simply just wrong of me to ignore the calls. A couple of times I did go to a mentor meeting or a tea event here and there, but my lack of motivation kept me away most of the time. Part of me did feel ashamed and worried about what the Judge would say to me once she did see me. However, the times she saw me, she didn't have any words of judgment or other comments that may suggest disappointment. She always welcomed me with open arms.

Then, out of the blue on last Sunday evening, I received a personal phone call from the Judge that caught me off guard. She was alerting me to a membership meeting that would be taking place the next day. Though she wasn't harsh in her tone or with her words, she was actually pleading her case for me to come to the meeting. She kept stressing to me that she wanted me there. It was as if I had no choice but to confirm my presence for the meeting. It's as if no matter how hard I try to avoid or stray away, some things just have a strange cosmic magnetic pull in my life.

Monday was chock full of meet and greets for me. I spent the morning in the office and by noon I was off to the District building to meet with city council members individually (there are eight plus an At-large member) or their staff as an introduction to who I am and tell them about the magazine. Then I had another meeting to attend with a DC government agency about a few strategic and concept designs they want the firm to produce for them. By the day's end I was whipped and contemplated on even attending the meeting with the Judge. It was hot outside, I was sticky, when I wasn't getting around by cab I was on foot in heels and I was out of steam. Nevertheless I stayed close in the area where I was to meet the Judge and had a light dinner at a restaurant inside Union Station.

By the time I made it to the meeting and it was underway, I suddenly felt the same enthusiastic spirit I felt when I first did the story on the organization five or six years ago. There is a difference this time around. Although I'm still interested in mentoring to one of the girls involved in the organization, once a dialogue opened I realized that for the time being I will use my journalism skills to help in another area of the organization. This is where I feel most comfortable and don't have to worry or feel pressure too much to make sure I'm straight with my life, before taking someone under my wing.

"You're a FAKE!?!?!?!?!"

One of my biggest fears with this job and making connections with others is loosing myself to the "Washington glamour" of it all and becoming something that I am not. That fear hit me after meeting May face to face a couple of weeks ago. May is the person handling the advertising side of the publication. Though I view her as a cool person to know, part of me is still leary about how she presence herself. Maybe it's me and I'm reading too much into her persona, but after seeing her in action and seeing how she can literally get what she wants for little or nothing I have to wonder how real is she. Maybe it's because I only know the tip of of the advertising business and not the full scope. Afterall, you do have to be a people person, but at the same time can you maintain your "realness' in this business and not always look or call on so and so for a hook up?

I guess part of me saw myself in something I didn't want to be when I met May. I actually felt myself throwing up fake smiles and exchanging fake laughter with her about a matter that really wasn't even entertaining. However, I think I did that more for her sake so she wouldn't feel some sort of embarrassment from her own comments.

That's it!?

Maybe the dream with the alligators was just a warning for me to watch out for those filled with their own venom. Maybe the whole thing about me staring down the creatures was a way of letting me know it's up to me which way I choose...to be bitten and turned into one of them or to stand my ground. As for the egg... I have no clue what that could have meant, only to say that since the egg came from the alligator...it's pretty much their "world" and with me kicking it off my bed was a way of me rejecting it. Who knows...I'm still pretty rusty when it comes to interpreting my own dreams.

Nervous

2006-04-30T17:55:00.000-04:00

Lately I have been wondering what in the world did I get myself into when I took this job. Maybe it's me. Maybe I need to toughen up more, or maybe I'm simply still trying to adjust after a month. It seems that Mr. Yellow is pleased with my work. I received an email a few days ago with a small compliment that simply said "you're doing a great job." Then I spoke with his brother a few days ago. Mr. Yellow's brother, the married guy, finally figured out that I work for his brother. However, he claimed he would remain professional and wouldn't dare mention anything to Mr. Yellow about knowing me. He did converse with his brother a few days ago and asked him how were things going with his new people. Mr. Yellow told him as well that he is pleased with me thus far.

"He likes you. I can tell. Just as long as you work hard and do what he ask you are fine. He is more hard on his designers since that is the main job function of his business. He expects his people to on top of things. Only thing about my brother, he is like me. When something is bothering him, he will take it out on people."

What's funny is the fact that all of the things I have been hearing on how Mr Yellow is... about him being a stand-off-ish kinda person or may appear cold when he really isn't... I've gotten a sense of this but not really. There seems to be some type of discourse between us, but there is still some distance. For the most part I feel comfortable in his presence, except during the times when I feel nervous. I get nervous at times, because I wonder if I'm on top of things like I should. Even though my primary duty is to serve as the assistant editor of the magazine, techinically because I'm still under the firm as a whole I still have to write, edit and research things for whatever projects come in for the company.

Did I follow up with this person? Did I contact this person that Mr. Yellow asked of me the other day? Did I send a courier to pick up the package to take ot the printers? Did I call the courier to pick up the package from that person? Oh God the magazine! I need to schedule an interview with this person. I need to find a subject matter for this feature. What? Such and such declined? I need backup! What? This writer can't commit to this article! I need to switch the story off with another writer. A conference in Chantilly? I have to report on it for this issue. What about press passes? How soon do I need to get an outline to May so she can start soliciting for ads?

These are questions that I have been constantly asking myself for the past two weeks. I'm trying to organize myself time wise with what is what. My days may start off smooth and organized, but by the 11 o' clock hour, the plan is thrown into the wind and I'm in full throttle with answering and returning phone calls, conducting interviews and conferencing via email.

This past Friday I was scared that I may have caused a self inflicted alcuser with my nerves running ragged. Friday morning started out pretty drab, but after a brief meeting with Mr. Yellow, I got myself into gear with the day's duties. However, for some reason my brain was confused about a few things. Who were those people that Mr. Yellow wanted me to mail a copy of the magazine to? True, he had discussed it with me in the morning meeting, but my mind drew a total blank. Oh God, he yelled at one of the designers! Did he fire him? I don't know. Was Friday a good or a bad day for Mr. Yellow? I don't know. Gawd, he is calling for me to have those packages ready by the end of the day. Damnit, who were the people receiving the packages?

Between what went down within an ear shot of me with Mr. Yellow and one of the designers, and the fact that I was doing close to 100 things at one time, my nerves were pretty shot by Friday evening. I ate lunch late and could hardly finish because the nerves in my stomach were just too upset. Rather than risking the chance of making myself sick, I just threw away the microwavable entree. What did lift my spirits was a pep talk with with Ms. B. Ms. B is the Senior Editor of the magazine. Friday she called the office and I briefed her on what was going on with the upcoming issue. When I told her how a bit nervous I am about this issue, she assured me that I was going a good job and that things were coming together so I shouldn't fret.
She said a couple of other things to me, but in the end I felt a bit relieved. Her talk was just what I needed.

Earlier during the week, I went to lunch at the food court in Union Station. I was sitting at a table next to two guys that looked to be in their late 20's or early 30's. The place was crowded so my table was right up on theirs and I couldn't help to overhear their conversation. Apprently one of them has this high profile job, but is not paying enough for him.

"I was telling one of my friends what it is that I do, and she is like 'wow that's cool.' And I'm like, 'yeah it maybe cool, but it's not paying worth a damn.' That's the thing. The job looks good on paper, but the reality is the pay sucks."

I almost let a smirk escape my face as I heard his comments. I know all too well his sentiments. While this job is great on paper and for the experience, I know that I will not be dropping anchor here. In the midst of the experiences that I have and will continue to gain are some of the frustrations I have come across. There are ancient Apple computers that seem to be decaying. I know it's a grandfather anytime I call tech support and they laugh when I say there is a muticolored apple icon in the upper left corner and not the solid blue icon that the newer ones have. I hate the fact that Direct Deposit is not offered. I really don't have time to keep running to the bank every week to depsosit a check. Then the biggie, appearing fake, but I'll digress from that. I'll explain that at another time, because that alone is a journal entry within itself.

I have no clue how long I'm giving myself with Mr. Yellow. Orginally, I said at least five years, but I don't know. Right now, it's to whenever I feel I have reached my job peek at the company.

I'm His Favorite Memory

2006-04-22T14:13:00.000-04:00

Originally Written Thursday, April 20, 2006

Sometimes I wish I receive some kind of warning that I'm going to run into someone from my past. Today's encounter came out of the left field. Nothing that I was expecting. Usually if I do run into someone I get this feeling of intuition that someone I know is going to pop up from somewhere. Nine time out of ten I am right on such a thing. However, today.... nothing.

I had just gotten off the bus and was walking the few steps towards my house when a guy in this SUV stopped at the stop sign. Naturally he let me cross and then as I walked on, I noticed how he was slowly continuing on. When I reached his truck I had already made up my mind to act as if I didn't see or hear him. I just wasn’t in the mood. My ears were plugged up with my tunes from my IPOD going, but at the last minute I had to glance at the guy from the corner of my eye. I saw that his mouth was fixed to speak, so I went ahead and took out my ear buds.

"How are you doing this afternoon?" he said.

I smiled, said that I was doing well and turned away to continue on my journey home. However, before I could fully turn around he asked,

"You don't remember me do you?"

I inched a little closer to his truck and I realized in heartbeat who he was.

He was first teddy bear kind of guy. He was my first... actually second bad boy. He was "Dell". I met Dell around the time I was 14. It was during the summer I was working with a small photography workshop that was part of the DC Summerworks program. At the time, the workshop was housed in the high school that my mother was the Assistant Principal of. A lot of small artistic workshops connected to Summerworks took place in that building. Dell was part of this music program.

My mother didn't particularly care for me to hang out with a couple of the folks in the photography program, since she knew them as students at the school. A couple of them were cool though, and every now and then we would roam the halls and goof off with the rest of the folks in the building. I think I was the youngest person in the program. Everyone was high school age and I was just completing the 8th grade on my way to being a freshman.

I came upon Dell during one of the times when we "armature" photographers went around the building to snap pictures of different things of the Summerworks program. We were called upon to put on some kind of exhibit at the small concert/recital event that marked the end of the summer program. Dell and I seemed to hit it off pretty well. However, I will admit I was still kind of wet behind the ears and it was only recently that I had started to become sexually active. Sex and boys was a new thing for me.

Dell would spit his game and I would gush and flirt back. Dell was 17 and had just graduated high school. I lied and told him I was 15 and was on my way to be a sophomore. Even when he found out that I was the daughter of the assistant principal, he didn't back down. Now that I think about it, maybe I was some kind of challenge for him. Nevertheless, that summer was a pretty rocky one for my mother and I. She had not long found out I was sexually active and was still pretty upset that her 14 year old daughter was probably headed down a road of STDs, being a teenage mother, and just ruining her life.

I still slipped Dell the house number, not even thinking about the fact that my mother knew him. Sure enough, the day he called, thanks to the modern technology of the Caller ID, she recognized the number. However, she thought it was his mother calling for her. When she heard his voice on the end she hit the ceiling. Silly me tried to say it wasn't who she thought it was. I lied and changed his last name, but that didn't fly with her. I even remember the last name I gave him. I saw a shoe by the brand Worthington nearby. That was name that immediately came to mind. "Dell Worthington." My mother simply rolled her eyes and continued to cuss me out.

Apparently Dell had been one of the menaces at the school and my mother had to suspend and/or call his mother plenty of times. That's why she knew the number so well. My mother was highly upset that he would dare call the house looking for me. She was even more upset that I gave him the number to call. You would think after enduring my mother's tongue lashing that it would be enough to make me want to disconnect from Dell. Instead it made me want to get closer. I was that moth draw to the flame and perhaps burned by the fire.

I was a bold sista during that time. I would sneak out the house to meet up with Dell. I walked the not-so-far-by-car-but-far-on-foot route from my house to his in broad daylight and sometimes at night. We would talk and joke but most of the time just simply had sex. I don't remember much about those times, only that even though he was a nice thick teddy bear size dude, he was gentle with me and that he did seem affectionate towards me.

He did have his share of personal drama. I remember he was in an on-going custody battle over his son. Then there was the time he was a bit disgruntled with me when I questioned him about this scare on his chest. The scar looked to be a wound that had healed near his heart. At first he tried to ignore my inquiries about it. Finally, without giving any details, he said it was due to some sort of car accident. After a while I left it alone.

I don't know how or why Dell and I faded away. I guess it was because I was simply growing up and moving onto something new. I was well into (Catholic) high school when we lost contact and I really didn't need any drama from someone's life other than my own. Certainly there were others after him, but I never forgot him.

It wasn't until five or six years later when I ran into Dell again. I was at Constitution Hall attending a Maxwell concert with my friend Mr. MID. I glanced in a corner where a gathering of guys were standing by the bar. I looked but I wasn't sure. Before I could say anything Dell spoke to me. I don't know what possessed me, but I briefly left Mr. MID's side to give Dell a hug. It was a four second greeting and then I went on my way.

Today as I stood by his truck chatting with him, I don't know what I was feeling. I was in shock for a second, but after a while I went numb. It was a funny feeling. He still has his teddy bear physique, but his face is sexier. He reminds of a version of Suge Knight.

We caught up on a few things. I found out that he still lives in the area, on the Maryland side of town. He works as a special education teacher at a local high school. The son he was fighting so hard for turned out not to be his, but he does have two girls now, ages 2 and 5. He never did specify if he was with the mother or not. He just kept referring to her as "my daughters' mother."

In the meantime, in the midst of my updates he wanted to know if I was married, what I was doing with myself, was concerned when I mentioned the fact that my mother had a stroke in the fall, and was concerned for me when I briefly told him how this year I was getting myself back on track with my life after having a rough period for a while. We had to have talked for about 20 minutes.

I even mentioned the fact that I must still look the same for him to even recognize me. It was then that he smiled and talked in that soft flirtatious voice that I forgot he had.

"I knew exactly who you were when I saw you. I can't forget you."

He kept dropping little hints about number giving, but for some reason I was not quick on giving out that information. Maybe I’m somewhat traumatized by the tongue lashing I went through with my mother. As we wrapped things up, I told him that I would see him around.

"Hopefully, fate will be on our side and bring us together again," he said.

I blushed and in response I said, "If God's willing."

He just smiled and chuckled.

We said our farewells and he drove off. I continued my walk home blushing all the way. Later on as I got settled in the house, I tried to put my focus elsewhere, but it was on Dell. After a while, all I could do was stop what I was doing and just say....

Damn!

Love Me, Release Me

2006-04-20T01:58:00.000-04:00

Every so often, I'll acquire this deep sensation. It actually scares me sometimes because I can basically feel the depth of my heart and soul where the feeling is coming from. When I get this feeling, sometimes I cry, sometimes I try to supress the tears. Tonight was one of supression. Because of this, I'm now left to stew in my thoughts well after midnight when I should be sleeping.

My mind got to thinking and playing with certain ideas of affection, love, admiration and desire. I hate it when I let my mind roam into that realm, because I feel so exposed without necessarily being exposed to anyone. It's just me. It just amazes me how vulnerable I can feel towards myself.

Plenty of times, I've had male friends, sexual or not, ask me what do I desire most in which they could give me. A lot of times I will saying "nothing," because in all honesty there is nothing that I really desire from them that I can't (attempt to) do for myself. I've always been the "I-can-do-for-self" kind of gal. Then after some thought, maybe even several conversations later, I'll tell them what I desire of them.

I seek or desire relief. I desire a connection or a bond so powerful of the mind, body (flesh) and spirit, that my only release left to experience or express is through tears. I've only experienced this once in my life. It was with my ex, Brandon. I didn't break down, but in the middle of making love I felt the tears gathering in the corner of my eyes. It was actually the most beautiful thing in this world, because our love for each other was real. It was genuine. It's just unfortunate that in the end I wasn't fully ready to be the wife that he desired of me at such a young age.

I miss human contact on that (intimate) level. Then again, maybe I was using it to hide my ugly truth in my past life. True, I did use to use sex as a pacifier for my emotional turmoil, but at the same time I thrived off of it.

As I'm starting to peel back a few dead layers from that past, I'm realizing that I never really found a resolution to my initial desire...affection. Instead, I burried it with fake emotions and fucked up notions. I feel like I'm back at square one in a sense. However, what's different about this time... I'm loving myself a bit more than what I did.

Yet, that yearning will not go away. It may never will.

Weary
By: Amel Larriuex
Album: Morning

This woman is growing weary
Of having to be so strong
Of having to pretend I’m made of stone
So I won’t end up with no broken bones
I can’t fight every battle alone

I want someone to lift me
Heal my wounds and give me kisses on my head
Say words that should be said
Fear is not the matter
I would so much rather open up my heart
And lay down my guard

Chorus:
If I could trust someone
To have my back and never do me wrong
Then I would give my love upJust like that stop singing this soldier song(repeat)

whomever said love was overrated
must not be getting’ nonemy independent days have had their fun
but when the parties overand the workin’ day is done
I just want to come home to someone

I want a love to take me
As I am not make me compromise myself
Or be like no one elseFear is not the matter
I would so much rather open up my heart
And just lay down my guard

Chorus

Psychic Thoughts, Spam, Sleep Apnea, Broken Wrist & Other Things.

2006-04-19T20:42:00.000-04:00

Just a few selected thoughts that have been constantly on my mind for the past few days.

Well perhaps I should start with the thoughts for today...or at least the dream that lead into today...

Last night I had a dream about a reception being held at my job. I have no ides what the occassion was for, but everyone was dressed in business attire. I was actually minding my own business, when I was approached by this guy AF. Now in reality, AF is one of the candidates running for mayor of DC. In my dream, what is a reality was pretty much there. However, his approach towards me was a bit on the flirtacious side. He was being real subtle with his lines, but I guess I was feeding into it. A few moments later I noticed how everyone at the reception was staring at the two of us talking, as if they couldn't believe that AF was "getting his mack on." The dream then flip flopped to a few scenes of me helping AF with his campaign. In the end he looses to the candidate that my parents are working with on her campaign, LC. The race was close though and AF only loss by three votes. In his concession speech he began to think his supporters and so forth and then turned to me and gave this long dramatic speech about how I have been his right hand and ...yadda yadda yadda. Then out of nowhere he gets down on one knee and proposes!!! It was then that I woke up. I have no clue if I said yes or no.

This morning as I came up from the escalator at the Eastern Market station, whose face should be the first thing I come in contact with?!?!?!?! AF! I didn't linger in his presence long. It was just long enough for him to go through the whole "flub bub" of "Hello, I'm AF and I'm running for Mayor of the District of Columbia." It didn't hit me until I got to work that I should have stayed a bit longer and introduced myself. The September issue of the magazine is political issue and we are looking to get all of the candidates for mayor together and discuss their views on small businesses. This morning the opportunity presented itself and I didn't jump on it. Damnit! Damnt! Damnit!

Well at work today, I received a text message on my cell phone from Mr. S. However, I think it was a spammed message. The message was something like "there are 20 angels in this world, 10 are sleeping, 9 are playing and & 1 is reading this text. Send to 10 friends, including me, and if you get 5 back, someone you love will surprise you." All I have to say is.... What the #*!$ ? It was deffinately spam in my eyes. Before today, the only other text I received from Mr. S was on Easter Sunday. It was just a simple "Happy Easter to you and yours." Even then I was like WTF?!?!?!?!?! I wanted so bad to call him and whine or shout "Talk to meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" but I held back... on the account of me being very pms-cidal lately.

Not long had I gotten off of work, LAF texted me. She was her doctor's office getting a regular check up, only to find that she is anemic and has thyroid issues, which she already knew. However, what maybe added to that list is sleep apnea!!!! At the time that I spoke with her, her docs had drew blood and were going to run some test. She has to schedule a sleep test to determine if she has apnea or not. I'm concerned for her about all three, however I'm more so concerned about the sleep apnea issue. After seeing a series on the news about the condition, reading other stories about celeberaties that have had it and knowing a couple of folks with it...it's nothing to play around with. I just pray that this is not the case with her. Who wants sleep apnea? Who needs it? *sigh*

When I made it home, I enjoyed a nice late afternoon/early evening chat with my father about his experiences in the military. What prompted the conversation was some news he shared with me about one of our neighbors. N. Jr. Is a guy I dedicated one journal entry to in my past life as Blackvelveteen. On that page, I mentioned how I had taken some kind of likening to him, even though he isn't the GQ type, We hardly talked or played with each as kids and even as adults we speak but it's still some kind of wall between us. I don't know why we never took the time to know each other when we were kids. Well there was that one or two times we played with each other, but that was it. Anyway, N. Jr, who is only two years older than me, grew up to be a Wall Street kind of guy...so I thought. After college he took a job with a fortune 500 company as a financial advisor, drove a used 325 BMW and I could always catch him in a suit. During this past fall, I noticed how I hardly saw him around anymore. I just figured he finally saved up enough money to move out his parents' house and got his own place. It was somtime in November that I found out N. Jr. dropped everything to join the Marines. I was bit dismayed when I heard that he did that, especially in the time we are living. Nevertheless, I shook off my fears I had for N. Jr. and kept moving. Today, my father made me feel some of those fears I tried to surpress. N. Jr. will be heading to Iraq in a few weeks. Here I am, a neighbor merely existing in his shadows and I'm fearing for his life. I can only image what his mother is feeling.

There wasn't really any time for me to quietly grieve for N.Jr.'s forthcoming departure. In the middle of my conversation with my father, about military life, a call from my cousin's school came through on my father's cell phone. It was one of the aftercare teachers calling to say that my cousin, Andre, hurt himself falling off the monkey bars. His wrist was swollen and they thought it was broken. No one could get a hold of Aunt P, go fig! So, my grandmother came to the house to pick me up and I drove to Andre's school. However, we ran into traffic, but after 15 minutes of being in in route to the school, Aunt P called my grandmother saying that she had Andre. At first she told us that she would take Andre to INOVA hospital, however, INOVA is a chain hospital within the Northern Virginia area so there are several of them. She never did say which one. Luckly there are two near her home. I ended up calling my ex, Brandon, to get directions to both. My grandmother and I went to both hospitals only to find that Andre wasn't at either one. It wasn't until later on we found out that Aunt P took Andre to a hosptial in southern Maryland, near my grandmother's house. When I last checked, it was positive that Andre had broken his wrist. It was a clean break and the doctors were trying to determine if surgery is needed to set the wrist. I'm actually glad we didn't meet up at the right hospital. I don't know if I could take Andre's crying. I would be crying right along with him. I can only image the pain he is feeling right now.

Meteocore thoughts....

I'm actually proud that I did my taxes early and on time this year. I'm even more excited about what I am to receive back. Actually DC may keep their money since I owe from a couple of years ago, but I don't mind that. What does have me worrried is if they want to come up with some trumped up fee that just "ain't" so. My Federal return is going to be a nice chunk a change. I've been going back and forth in my head if I want to use that money to travel to Miami with or redo my bedroom. Decisions... decisions....

Since I've been doing all of this walking back and forth to my job, I've lost a few inches around the waist, in my bust area and perhaps in my buttoxs. My behind was already oddly shaped to begin with. It was flat up top but then began to round itself out towards the bottom. Now...it seems to be flat(ter). Maybe this Ben and Jerry's Vanilla Carmel Fudge ice cream binge I have been on will balance it out?

Things with the upcoming issue of the magazine seem to be okay. I've been doing some juggling acts with reassigning stories and still lining up other interviews. I'm trying to hang tight with it all, but I keep hearing this small nagging voice that will say something like "you are going to fail." I ignore it mostly... but it keeps coming back.

Guess I'm done... my thoughts are now interrupted.....I need to move.... far away....

More Changes...It Never Ends

2006-04-15T23:24:00.000-04:00

There was nothing special about today. It was just a typical spring day here in the District as I ventured to Eastern Market with my mother. Vendors and their customers filtering around as if this was the grand opening of spring. I did manage to score a nice deal. I bought a vintage mirror in the shape of a tribal sun. I was told that originally the mirror was $100, but the lady sold it to me for $10. To be honest, the mirror is actually flawed with two small cracks near the bottom. Nevertheless I was just too in love with it to let it go. It immediately caught my eye when I walked into the art gallery part of the market. Instantly I thought it could be something to to add to my bedroom as I'm getting ready to do a complete overhaul. I have my new bed frame and a bookshelf on hold aka my wish list at Crate and Barrel's website. I'm giving myself at least three more weeks to actually dump the items in my cart to purchase.

Part of this overhaul is to dump a lot of things, starting with an old Hewlett Packard/Packard Bell computer that didn't even roll over into the new millennium when the year 2000 came in. Instead the machine reverted back to 1900?!?!?!?! Along with the computer I want to get rid of the desk that it sits on. Right now it's taking up space. I need some breathing room. A new dresser will come later. The main thing is a new bed.

As I've been making all these plans to redo my room, I have to wonder what is about change. What is it about change that makes you what to do a complete makeover of everything in and around you once one area, even the tiniest of corners, has seen a new day? I know for me I was just tired of how things were going in my life period. I figured I needed to change one thing and prayed that everything else would fall into place right after. Sure enough, once I made the biggest decision and even the most unsure decision of my life, out of nowhere I had this urge to just rid myself of a lot of things figuratively and literally.

I've seen the the progress I have made and continue to make strides to become whole or at least to place where I can breathe easy. Still, some things in my past trip me up, but at least I don't wallow in the sea of fear and unhappiness. Unfortunately, I see this happening to my grandmother. It finally hit me this week that my grandmother is utterly and frighteningly scared of change.

In recent days, my grandmother found out that her military ID has expired. She had hopes to go on Boiling AFB this weekend to renew the ID, but the reality is she really isn't entitled to having one. You see, my grandfather was the one that was the military person. He was in the navy. Being a military spouse, my grandmother was privy to a military ID. Every Saturday, for 26 years, the ritual with my grandparents was to get up early in the morning and prepare for a day on the base. They did everything on base, grocery shopping at the commissary, eating lunching at a fast food stand inside the base exchange and then more shopping at exchange.

By the time they returned home it would mostly likely be close to 3 or 4 in the afternoon. I can't even count how many times I was dragged to either Boiling or to Andrews AFB with them if I spent the weekend at their house. It was just a non-stop tradition. Even after my grandfather died, my grandmother didn't miss a beat. Every Saturday she would get up and head to the Boiling or Andrews.

However, once she remarried to Mr. D. it should have stopped. Mr. D isn't a military man and my grandmother should have notified whomever to say that she was remarried, but the thing of it is, she hardly used her new married last name. She continued to use her last known married name. It wasn't until Mr. D had his stroke and my grandmother made herself the power of attorney that she started to use her remarried last name. If she goes to Boiling to try to renew her ID, once her social security number is looked up and authorities see that she has a new last name, they will not issue her an ID. It would actually be considered a Federal offense for her to obtain an ID now, since she is remarried and no longer has ties to the military as a widowed spouse.

My father, being a military man himself, and my mother tried to warn her of this. At one point she was very adamant about renewing her ID, but I think she finally took the hint. My mother has been trying to convince her that she needs to get into her car and to other places. She told my grandmother that there is more to a Saturday than just going to the base and coming back home. However, my grandmother has been very livid throughout this whole thing. It's basically the equivalent to the end of the world...well that's how she has been responding. My grandmother's thinking is that things on the base are cheaper. However, in reality... the stuff sold in the commissary is just about the same price as groceries sold at Shopper's Food Warehouse. The merchandise sold in the exchange is just about the same if not a little higher than the merchandise sold at Wal-Mart.

Yet, my grandmother just can't get pass the whole notion that a pattern in her life is changing. It's like she is fighting so hard to keep things the way they were, before Mr. D even became sick. In a way I can understand it. This May, my grandmother will be 77. Not saying that at her age it's hard for her to change, but she has been in a comfort zone for so long that even the smallest things, such as the ID card issue, is just too traumatic for her. What's funny is, she'll try to inspire change within my aunt, my mother and me, but for herself she is too comfortable in her life to even want change.

I just wish that she understood that you can never be too old to change and that all change is not bad. Sometimes it is for the better. When it's for the worse you have to pray yourself through it. With all change you have to adjust and eventually move on. Eventually in the end, you will be a stronger person.

Oh What a Tangled Web We Weave or The Who's Who of DC?

2006-04-11T16:34:00.000-04:00

Since I have begun this new job, strange things just seem to occur. Well, maybe not so strange.

For one, I find myself engaged in more conversations that pertain to growth, transition and faith. I find it odd how I don't even have to bring up the topic. The person I am speaking with brings it up and most of the time it has been with a person I barely know. I've been wondering "what does this all mean?"

The second thing that has really been a bit odd to me, is how I maybe in the shadows of the "Who's Who of DC," but mainly by association, and don't know it. Actually, perhaps my "identity" is starting to surface. To sit here and map out a cart or some kind of tree of who I know and their associations and so forth of how it leads back to me maybe a bit complicated.

Other than the situation with Mr Yellow and the married guy I'm trying to avoid being brothers, what I am finding is that my parents have become associates to a few business men since they have been working with the mayoral campaign of Linda Cropp. Those same business associates that they have gotten to know are some of the very same ones that know Mr. Yellow. I noticed this caught my parents by surprise when I brought home a past issue of the magazine that featured some of these business men. What's funny is how this past Friday my mother called herself dropping hints about one of these men and made a few insinuating remarks that was obviously in a matchmaking tone. It's also possible that this man and Mr. Yellow have crossed paths as I pulled up information, in the name of research, where both of them were involved in another political campaign together one way or the other.

Even in my resent research around the topic for the upcoming issue of the magazine I am bumping into information about people I know. This upcoming issue is focusing on minority women entrepreneurs and in my search I have come across a name that is tied into my old government job and even as close as my old supervisor, Ms. J. After further reading up on the person, my memory is jogged and suddenly I remember instances where I may have had to deal with that person directly.

Today as I furthered my research, I decided that I wanted to try to schedule an interview with Sheila C. Johnson, the lady who was once "Mrs. BET. " After making initial contact with one of her personal assistants and then hearing back from her publicist, I had a telephone conference with one of the magazine staff members. As I briefed her on what was going down with Ms. Johnson (actually she is remarried now) I was told that she was good pick, because not only would that bring in some advertisement, she is really good personal friends with the business man (different man from paragraph three) who was featured on the cover of the last issue. It is this same man that secures a lot of business from the Federal government and could have possibly had dealings with my old job. I know his name sounds familiar.

Further into the conference, the VP of Business Development and I went on a slight tangent as we began to talk about the industry as a whole and part of her background. In the midst of this conversation it came out that her and I share a mutual friend, "Co." Co is actually a television producer/production assistant I met once upon a time (that I keep in contact with every now and then), who eventually was friends with my friend Kel from Baltimore. The three of us would try to hook up every now and then to party at a club or something, but Co is married with a son. So it was also hard to get him out the house.

Then later on today, I ran into an old elementary school buddy of mine, "Tay," who lives a block over from me. All these years I kept wondering if she was still living behind me and as it turns out she does. I found out that she is a full time musician as she sings with a local band and also writes songs. However, as we got to talking I learned that she knows a person I went to high school with and is actually close friends with her. It was also through her that I found out that two other of our elementary buddies, whose names I thought I would never hear again, are on the local music scene with her. Well, one is a drummer for another band and the other shows them support as he show hops.

Washington, DC is only but so big in size. If you look on a regular U.S. map, if you blink you would probably miss the no-smaller-than-a-pinto-bean-partially-diamond-shaped city. Thank God for the man who created the star in the circle to pinpoint where the city is. With only four sections to the city it's no wonder why people are bound to run into each other in some way.

While these instances may not seem like a lot, these coincidences have occurred in a two and a half week span and it's been enough to keep me wondering... "who's next?" What I find funny is, lately I have been having dreams about attention these big and fancy all out events. In the dreams, I'm always dressed up and I'm there with folks who are a part of the magazine staff. However, even though Mr. Yellow is the one that makes the deals in reality, everyone is coming up to me, wanting to converse with me. No one famous has appeared in these dreams, but in a couple of the dreams I remember feeling a bit intimidated, because of the regal and powerful presence. These were more than just doctors, lawyers, realtors or CEOs of corporate America. These were straight up philanthropists. I don't know how I know they were philanthropists. I was just something I felt within my dream.

Nothing really dramatic or pivotal happens in the dreams. Just that in one of them I was being honored and it caught Mr. Yellow by surprise, because the honor really came out of left field. Of course he was honored, but it appeared that I received some higher honor. I don't know. It was just a dream.

Perhaps, all of this is nothing more than a sign to let me know that it's my season and I must embrace it.

He's Into Me. He's Into Me Not or What Is My Worth?

2006-04-09T18:15:00.000-04:00

There is a house that I walk by every morning and afternoon on Capitol Hill near Eastern Market. It's not like all the usual brownstone looking homes. The front is a bit bigger and it has its own front porch. It almost looks out of place with the different shades of red, gray and brown brick homes that surround it, but it's perfect where it is. Everyday I stare at this house. No, it's not for sale and even if it were I would nowhere be in the market in buying it. I'm in love with the house, but I stare at it because to me it represents my ultimate goal....stablilty.

Anyone that knows me, knows by now that not only am I hell bent on moving out of my folks' house, but I want to buy a house of my own. Right now, while I still dream of this and working towards this goal I am fretting, but not because of financial woes or anything of the such. Lately in my thinking I feel that the house and the word stability means a lot more. I look at that house and I equate it with success in my life and others that are to come. I see family gatherings on Sundays for dinner. I see social gatherings with my friends on a Saturday night. I see all of this and I still feel a twinge of sadness.

It hit me last weekend what that sadness is. Currently, I do not have anyone special in my life to share my joys and pains with. Of course I have family and yes I have friends, but right now, I just feel like it's just me. As excited as I am about my new job and greatful to those that have expressed their happiness for me, I still feel like something or someone is missing.

During the past couple of weeks, Mr. S popped into my thoughts constantly. I'm missing him and I hate that I am. I love his humblness and his overall nature to care for others. I love our talks and I wish they were more frequent. However, he is a businessman that is always on the go. His job has him traveling to this place and that place. Meanwhile, I'm left stirring about and trying to keep myself busy with work with a million thoughts running through my head.

If he was really that interested he would make time for you.

He probably does have someone and isn't coming clean.

Nah, he is working. He's just a workaholic like some of the others were.

He's just not that into you.

Why did you have to meet someone that would cause your insecurities to surface?

However, out of all the "screaming" thoughts I have had, one thought seemed to be on the only one that makes sense right now.

There is a reason why he isn't in your life...right now.

Sometime last August, when I first met Mr. S, it was nothing more than some harmless crush that I wanted to brush off. What woman in her mid-twenties has a crush on a guy that is in his mid-thirties? It seemed so high school-ish. Then the more I spoke with him, the more the school girl feelings melted away and my interest in him grew. It wasn't until around the holidays that I discovered that he was feeling the same way.

It was also around that time I became worried. I knew whatever I was feeling about him was slightly different, because normally I see my life as an open book. I've kept an online journal that could be searchable on the internet for five or six years and the fact that I'm turning that journal into a published book....my business is pretty much out there. Yet, in talking with him, I wanted to close up. I wanted to be seen as flawless. For the first time in my life, everytime I spoke with him, I said silent prayers asking the Lord to make whatever it is that Mr. S and I share work out.

We tried a couple of times to go out on "dates" or just hang out, but either he was called out of town to work at the last minute, or I was tied up with family issues. I remained patient, but with the patience came frustration. I was simply upset because what I want is within reach but too far away. Then somehow I reasoned with myself on why Mr. S may not be available to me right now.

I thought it is best that I am probably not with anyone right now. While I am continuing to go through this metemorphous stage in my life, it doesn't make sense to drag someone in the cocoon with me. My cocoon is still filled with unresoloved issues, especially as they pertain to Hazel. It was just a couple of months ago when Hazel cooked me dinner after work and then I turned around a couple of nights ago and fixed a business letter for him, which in turned helped him gain a manager position in the IT department at his new job. Then there is the latest development with the married guy that won't leave me alone (see previous entry) and the fact that I could be working in a place that is brewing potential drama for this. I would hate to bring Mr. S or anyone else into my issues.

Sometimes I actually have flashback thinking to how I first felt when I was all into Mr. X from my old job. I use to think I wasn't good enough for him, because I felt so low on the totem pole of life. At the time I was a struggling 20 something college student with no claim to anything and Mr. X was this 30 something year old that was on the high end of the GS scale, just a couple of grades shy away from a manager or a director position. He had stablilty. However, I did learn a lesson out of the three year ordeal (or so) with Mr. X. In all reality, I was too good for him. It turned out he was all talk with nothing much to show for. I made moves in my life, while he only talked about them. He did have his good points, but after I discovered what he was really about, he wasn't the same debonair man I saw him as. What's funny is, it wasn't until around the time that I left the old job that Mr. X and I finally made sense to each other as we cleared the air about a lot of things. Because of that, we have remained friends.

With Mr. S, I don't know why I may have the same intial thinking as I did with Mr. X...me not being good enough. Certainly Mr.S hasn't treated me as such, but I can't help but feel a bit itimidated. If anything, what Mr. S has done is spark a worthy appreciation with me on a"just beacause" basis. He'll offer to do this or that, or give me this or that, but in the end I say "no thank you," because I don't want him to feel like I'm using him. Then later on, I may wonder, if they are all just empty words. My thinking is so agonizing and frustrating.

What's funny is, I don't even remember having these same feelings, of me not being good enough, when I first met Hazel. Maybe, it's because Hazel and I are somewhat on the same level...meaning, we are on the same level of where we are in our lives, in search of stability. Perhaps, in the end that's what I need, someone on the level as me in life.

However, I still have this lust or craving for affection. In my past life, I would satisfy myself with a fix of that person, that person or this person. I am amazed that I haven't been doing that lately. The temptation has certainly be in my face, especially since a couple of my male friends have been taunting me lately with there blunt thoughts about what they want to do to me and how. Yet, I've turned down every invitation, because there came a point in my life when I was tired of doing just that...getting a fix.

Sometimes I have to laugh, because it's almost like I'm becoming a prude, but I'm far from it. I just want that one special person, a companion. Maybe Mr. S is that person, maybe not. I just know I'm not holding my breath. I think I would be dead by tomorrow if I did such a thing.

Music & Wine
By: Blue Six
Album: Nude Dimensions

valentine
hard to find
love is blind
acquaintances can be unkind

state of minds
show a sign
hope divine
just making love to pass the time

used to get high just to pass the time
music and wine were the only friends of mine
used to make love just to have a laugh music and wine were the only friends i had (here's that lovin' 2x)

bitter break
hard to take
hearts'll ache
this loneliness is hard to face

hollow soul
freezing cold
feelin' older
and poverty will take it's toll

used to get high just to pass the time
music and wine were the only friends of mine
used to make love just to have a laugh
music and wine were the only friends i had (here's that lovin' 2x)

gin and lime
summertime
starry nights
and memories of better times

ocean breeze
wind in leaves
waking dream
alive with possibility

here's that lovin' here's that lovin'
this love's for real that lovin'
here's that lovin'

The Honeymoon Is Over!

2006-04-06T18:24:00.000-04:00

My honeymoon with the new job came to an abrupt end yesterday morning as I was rattled with an unexpected phone call. When I picked up the receiver I received such a deep self inflicted electric jolt, that my brain ceased to function properly. I couldn't hardly concentrate on researching on my topics for the magazine, because of that one phone call. Every time I answered the phone I mis-screened a call. I chalked up the mistakes and charged it on the account of me being the new person. Thank God I didn't have any articles to write or any to edit, because I'm sure the end result would have lead to a serious mess. My mind was that far gone. All I could do was reiterate what D'Angelo sung so long ago.

Part 1: "Shit....Damn...Motherfucker!"

Flashback:

It was one night last May when I was feeling sulky. Perhaps I was too sulky to even participate in an open mic session in Baltimore that I was invited to. Nevertheless, I still took the drive out there and joined the session as a spectator. Unfortunately, by the time the session ended, the night was still feeling young to me. So I made the trek back home to DC and stopped by the bar that my friend LAF and I frequent. Well, we don't really go anymore, but at the time it was the place to be.

On that particular night, I was happy to be there by myself, sipping on my usual Lynchburg Lemonade and talking a little trash with the bartender. I had on the perfect mask that evening to cover up what sulky feelings I had inside from all that had taken place earlier that day. When I began to feel my real emotions I packed up my purse, closed out my tab and headed out the door... so I thought. When I reached the outside portion of the bar, I walked passed a table of two gentlemen that I first noticed when I arrived at the bar. I watched how they stared me down like a hawk when I entered the place and when I walked out, not only did they stare but they became bold enough to speak.

After a few minutes of back and forth of them coaxing me to stay to have a drink with them and me trying to head to Ben's Chili Bowl, I gave in and sat down for another round of drinks. A few minutes later another female, someone the fellas were expecting, arrived and the four of us spent the entire night into the morning talking on a breezy spring night. The female was about my age. Actually she was a couple of years younger than me. The two fellas were both in their late 30's to early 40's and of the two men, one is married with a daughter. Somehow, in our semi-drunken state we clicked. It wasn't until around 3 am when we left the bar, and all but the married guy headed to Ben's Chili Bowl with me. Before we all went our separate ways, the four of us did exchanged cell phone numbers and were in agreement that since we had a good time with each other that perhaps we should meet up again.

A few times over the summer, the three of them were my happy hour buddies as we met up in different places after work for a drink or two. Somehow during this foursome bond, the married guy developed some fond feelings for me. Though, I had his cell number, I hardly called it. I only called him if I knew we were going to hang out with the other two and to confirm the place, time and etc. He started calling me on his own a little bit more and I told him straight up that I don't deal with married men. I told him that I can deal with a married man in a friendship setting such as this, but that's it!

After a few more phones calls, and me rejecting his flirtacious advances, he finally called me late one night to say that he couldn't handle being just friends with me. He through a whole speech about he wishes me well and so forth and I nonchalantly told him I understood and that perhaps it would better if he did stop calling me since he feel he can't be just a friend to me.

For about a month or so I didn't hear from him and soon after I stopped hearing from the other two. Actually the other two were pretty much busy with their lives that it was hard to meet up with them anyways. Then, around late August, the married guy started calling me again. A couple of times I didn't pick up his call, but eventually I answered. I questioned him on what happened to him not being able to handle being just a friend. I got some rhetoric about how much he missed talking to me and how he would try to just be a friend and .. blah blah blah...

For a while, he actually did just that. He was a friend, but I still didn't call him. He was calling me. Then came the worse two weeks of my life for the year 2005. In the latter part of September into October, I was an emotional wreck. Having been through a nasty falling out between Hazel and I, and I was feeling very vulnerable. I did go out with the married guy during that time, but I won't say I totally crossed the line. We did the whole touching and kissing thing, but that's as far as I let it go. I'm mad with myself for even letting it get that far, because that was just more fuel for his fire. Nevertheless, he did respect my boundaries once I shocked myself into reality and said no.

After that incident, I ceased all communication with him. He would call and I would ignore the call. For a while he stopped calling and I thought he finally took the hint, but he started to call again right after the new year. I did answer once when his calls started again, it was then he pleaded to meet with me and claimed that he had been holding a Christmas gift for me. I told him to keep it and give it to his wife. I didn't want it and I never agreed to meet with him.

I thought after that conversation he would leave me alone again, and this time for good. For about a month I didn't hear from him and then March rolled around, so did the phone calls. This time, I just can't answer. I don't want to answer. He even sent a text message inquiring if I was okay and saying something to effect that he didn't understand why I don't talk to him and that he missed me. The calls aren't every day, but perhaps every other day to maybe once a week. The most recent of calls to my cell phone was just last Saturday. All I could do was look at the caller ID and press the "reject call" button.

Fast Forward To Yesterday Morning:

The phone rang and I answered with ease. Then came the shock of my life. On the other end, was a gentleman clearing his throat and once his voice boomed through the receiver I damn near choked on my own saliva. I knew the voice, but I still wanted to give the caller the benefit of the doubt. The caller was asking to speak to my boss.

"Whom shall I say is calling?"

When the caller announced his name, I felt as if all the life I have been living was just purgatory and now I was truly dead and living in hell. I passed the call to my boss and immediately went into shock. Just then, the staff person who is leaving the firm arrived for the day. I had to know if the caller and the married guy I know are one in the same. On the down low, I called her over and wrote down the caller's name on a piece of paper. I asked if the name looked/sounded familiar. In a cheery voice she beamed,

"Yeah! That's his brother! But he rarely comes to the office though."

To be sure we were talking about the same person, I had to pull from my memory what the married guy looks like. I briefly ran down the line with his looks and the staff person confirmed it.

Married Guy + My Boss aka Mr. Yellow = Brothers

Shortly after the first call, the married guy called again asking for his brother...Mr. Yellow. Again, I had to answer the phone. As I went through my whole professional riggamorro over the phone, I could tell as he was responding to what I was saying that he was trying to recognize my voice. Yet, I said nothing.

Dumb me should have known to expect this. The family name, which is also the name of the firm, is not that common in the DC Area. To be honest, the thought did occur to me last week.

What if they are related?

I shrugged it off, because the thought alone seemed too uncomfortable, even if I did think of them as only being cousins if it were so. Actually, I could probably digest this better if they did turn out to be cousins than brothers. At least cousins, unless immediate, don't necessarily have to be really tight with one another to call each other at work or whatnot. I should have paid even closer attention to the fact that the bar that I use to hang out in is a client of the firm. Though I don't recall ever seeing my boss there, but LAF certainly has seen him there and has even spoken with him.

As far as Mr. Yellow is concerned, he just thinks I am some chic he hired for a writing job after responding to an ad on Criagslist. He has no idea that I use to frequent the very same bar that he took on as a client and he certainly doesn't know that I know his brother. I don't plan on mentioning anything to either him or his married brother. If they figure it out, I'll let them do that on their own. I want to remain as professional about this as possible. However, I can't help but to feel that I set in motion some kind of sick cosmic joke!

Part 2: "She works for me!"

After a good night's rest, I went to work today feeling as if I am back on the purgatory level of this divine universe. I went through the day completing some research and creating future outlines for the next year for the magazine. Then came a buzz on the intercom from Mr. Yellow. He wanted me to go ahead and finalize a "project" that he assigned me to do earlier in the week.

The assignment was to write a letter to the companies that advertised with this current issue of the magazine. In the letter I was to introduce myself as the assistant editor and thank them for their support (their ads) to the publication. At first I did question the whole thing. For some reason I thought the letter would be coming from him since he is the person that is producing this magazine. However, he told me it wanted the letter to come from me.

The letters were suppose to have been mailed yesterday, but because the letterhead for the magazine didn't arrive on time, the call from him today was to go ahead and print the letters on the firm's letterhead and send them out today. However, I had a slight dilemma. I didn't have any contact information for the companies. That's when I had to call "May," who is the V.P. of Business Development - in charge of advertising.

Just as I thought to contact her, it hit me. The letters should be coming from her and not me! Sure enough, when I spoke with her, she was hot, because I was told to do these letters. I didn't take it personal, because I have spoken to her before and she is a nice and cool person and I knew that she didn't have anything against me. I also know how a bit personal the connections are between ad reps and their clients. However, what I did learn today is that the connections can be a bit deeper than I what I originally thought they were.

Ad reps see their connections as their "life line" as May put it. Advertising is a whole different realm that is territorial. Meaning, just as the reps see the clients as their life line, the client sees their relationship with a rep as a personal thing. It almost the same as having a special relationship with a beautician or personal shopper. I fully understood where May was coming from and I understand the logic and protocol of doing things; thank you letter to advertisers should come from the advertising department and not Editorial!!!!

However, Mr. Yellow, didn't see it in that light. He was very adamant about me sending out the letters today. He never gave a reason why. Much of the latter portion of the afternoon was spent on the phone with May, listening to her vent her frustration and then passing the phone to Mr. Yellow, who in turn told May that he fully disagreed with her this time and literally told her (about me) in a calm (sinister kind of way) voice;

"She works for me. Right now, what I say goes."

I spent the last portion of my day, pulling contact names from a data base, printing and signing the letters and addressing them to the right people. As I was toiling away, I had a feeling as to why Mr. Yellow was so dead set on having me do the letters. For one, May isn't a full time employee with the firm. She works on a freelance/commission basis and she hardly comes to the office. All of her dealings with the firm/the magazine are taken care of from her home. I had a feeling the Mr. Yello probably asked her to do this some time ago and she never got around to do it.

When I left the office, I called May to tell her that I went ahead and prepared the letters to be sent out and that if by chance they hadn't been sent out in the morning, I would see if I could change the letter to reflect her name or at least go back to make sure her contact information was in the letter. After a few more minutes on the phone, she realized that names I had pulled from the data base were not the right direct contact. Of course with her being the advertising person, only SHE had the right people to address.

May called back to the office to see if she could have the letters held off for another day. Fives minutes later, I received another call on my cell from May. In a defeated tone of voice she told me to go ahead and send the letters, but she told Mr. Yellow to hold off until tomorrow in order for her to email me the correct names to address.

I asked her did he ever give a reason why he wanted me to send them out. He did give a reason and sure enough it was what I had suspected. He did asked her to complete this task last week and apparently she didn't move quick enough for his taste. So, for whatever reason, he was in a rush to get the letters out and had me to do them.

All in All

I still love this new job and I still see this as another step further in my "writing career." I don't plan on staying with the firm long. I just want to develop enough experience to be able to move to the next level.

How will I handle things if Mr. Yellow finds out I know his brother or if his brother finds I work at the firm? As professionally as I can. I don't need the drama, but you best believe if I smell a hint of it.. I will try to nip it before it gets ugly. I won't know exactly what I will do until I am presented with it. Hopefully it won't come to such a time.

As with May, though I didn't take her venting personally, I still felt a bit guilty for not speaking up enough about the logic of things with such an issue for future reference, but perhaps this wasn't the time, especially since he gave her a task to do and she couldn't deliver on time. I just don't want to over step my boundaries or have anyone think I am.

I am glad to say, through her venting, somehow May and I found time to laugh and talk trash over the over about nothing in particular.

Vintage Me - Circa 2000

2006-04-03T17:51:00.000-04:00

In the midst of looking up an old research paper of mine, I found a couple of things that made me laugh.

1. The black and white photo taken of me.
2. A poem I wrote in college.. to whom and for what.. I have no clue.

Untitled
By: T. E. B.

A Dangerous Liaison I am known
So you better use caution when you are approaching the thrown
No baby I don't bite
I'm just a Divinediva by day and it carries on into the night
Why don't I speak ebonically?
Southeast is where I'm from but I can speak profressionally
I'm curious as to what caught your eye
Was it the poetry? The words of the ad? Or that I have the spirit of the butterfly?
I wanna know your name, your age...
It seems like your identity is hidden..locked in a cage.
I showed you mine, now you show me yours
Are you a school teacher or a janitor cleaning floors?
Either way it doesn't matter
Just the fact that you are taking the invite makes me feel flattered
Me? I'm just a Simple City girl No I don't live in Simple City. Well, just a block up from it
Trying to find my niche in this ever changing world
Sittin here listening to some jazz...
Miles, Etta, Ella, and Ms. Dinah
Soothing my mind while I wait for your next line.

Dreaming While On My Honeymoon

2006-03-31T19:50:00.000-05:00

A year ago, if you would have told me that I would be working with a publication for a public relations firm, I would not have believed you. A year ago my future seemed to be unclear. There was nothing but this dense fog that blackened everything for me. I knew something was waiting for me…something that was better than what I was dealing with, but I just wasn’t sure. I simply would have doubted the possibility, because life seemed to have been turning into a gaping black hole for me. Yet, something wouldn’t let me give up so easily. I fought like hell for a change in my life. Every agonizing thought, decision made, prayer and tear stained pillow was for the sake of my sanity and the push to make my dreams a reality.

All my life I have been a dreamer. I’m not sure exactly when did I know I wanted to be a writer, but ever since I was just some kid wearing plaits I knew I wanted to leave my mark in this world some kind of a way. My mode of dreaming has routinely been me sitting in the middle of my bed with headphones firmly attached to my ears. Music laid the foundation, cultivated and produced my dreams. To this day, when I want to retreat from life’s headaches, I quickly placed the earphones on and sail away to another place and time. Music is my muse, my soul, my soundtrack to life, my lover, my best friend outside of myself and my savior.

In listening to music I’ve always dreamed big. As a kid, in my head I was the famous nobody that everyone on this great earth found fascinating. I was a rocker chic that rebelled against society. I was the CIA spy or assassin working on covert operations. I was a model, perhaps even a plus size one and strutted down the catwalk for a Lane Bryant fashion show in New York during Fashion Week. I’ve been the perfect girlfriend for this boy or that boy, maybe even the perfect wife. Then I grew up.

Even though I’ve gotten older, most of those childish dreams have faded away into oblivion, while others are hidden just beneath or behind a shadow. I still dream big, but nowadays I see myself more of a chameleon, mainly a champion for the underdogs of society…the ones whose voices want to be heard, but no one wants to hear them. Yeah, I’ll admit I still have the occasional day dream of being some model, but simply by accident…yanno just off the humble of being some well-known figure. Okay, and I still may fantasize about being with this guy or that one, but the majority of my big dreaming is about me showing off my talents and sharing with a community of people. I dream of being a mentor for the youth. I still have visions of the documentary I want to work on concerning mental health issues with Black women. I’m still working on my ultimate dream, being a published author.

Whenever I decided that I wanted to be a writer and even going into journalism, I dreamed of being this big time editor of a magazine. At the time when I had the idea, I pictured myself working with a fashion magazine, namely Mode. Mode was a magazine whose audience consisted of women that are considered plus size, those size 12 (some 10) and up. I loved Mode because it wasn’t extreme as being high end or low end. The fashion concept was very moderate and it worked for all levels. It was very “hip” and upbeat. Unfortunately the magazine went under right after the September 11 attacks and shut down its operations. My dreams of being “this” editor seemed far in reaching.

Now I am fast forwarding to right now and even reflecting a bit on all that has taken place with me in the last year that has lead to this moment. I realized that even though my dream job with Mode will never happen, I never really stopped dreaming or having the desire to be some kind of editor and writer. There are four things in my life I cannot deny; God, my family, music and writing. No matter how hard I try to deny any one of these things, it comes back to me…strong.

I’ve tried to deny writing plenty of times, but it haunts me. Even when I write junk, know that I’ve written a piece of trash and want to give it up then, it laughs in my face and mocks me. So, back then when I so-called did away with the desire of being an editor (and perhaps being a writer) because Mode was terminated, I basically set some kind of cosmic joke in motion.

As I have been thinking about the duties I have been performing this week on the new job, it finally hit me that I am doing what I love and want to do. I’m researching, writing and editing a publication that is for a national organization. I’m doing what I dreamed. However, this is the thing that tripped me out as I thought about it. The magazine is fairly new. It’s only about a year and a half old and it lacks organization. Before I was hired, I was told that while the publication already has a team of people (3 females) working with it, the firm was looking for something that could help steer the magazine in the right direction and to take it to the next level or grow with it. At the time when I was told this, I knew what it meant but I didn’t know what it meant. I know… how could I be confused about something that is in plain view? It’s hard to explain. It was just a confusing feeling for me at the time.

It wasn’t until I started the job and dove right into the responsibilities that I fully understood what is going on with me. It all boils down to one word…growth. Surely, I couldn’t expect to just jump into some big time publication and try to run a few things with only a half of a portfolio filled with sporadic freelance and internship worthy articles. Instead, I was sent to work with a small firm, with a not so glamorous pay, but a priceless experience and network of people (heavy hitters in the corporate world).

What’s even funnier, now that I think about it, every now and then I would say one of those drive-by prayers. Yanno, it’s the kind of prayer when you aren’t really in prayer mode but you are thinking it or saying it aloud. My drive-by would probably be something like this;

“Lord, I just need the perfect fit for a job. Something that will use me for my writing skills, challenging but not so demanding.”

Or something like this;

“I need to work in a colorful environment.”

I know I’ve said a variation of the first drive-by plenty of times and the second one….hmph… I’ve said that line so much it basically became some kind of affirmation. What’s funny about my prayer is that I feel like I have been given what I asked for. I love how the staff is only about seven people. I love how Mr. Yellow doesn’t seem to be one of those micromanagers. He understands that he is working with a team of creative people. We, meaning anyone with a daring creative bone in their body, are a different species on this earth. We can’t be confined to just one concept or another. We have to test the range of any and everything. That’s what Mr. Yellow allows us to do. Basically, he briefly outlines the concept of what the client wants and he leaves it to us to have the creative range we need to produce the product. Besides, he is hardly in the office as he is always out meeting with clients. So, we have no choice but to take the initiative to come up with ideas and such on our own.

As for the magazine, while it does have some type of foundation it’s in the perfect position to be molded. I see this as a challenge, which I love and it gives me some type of motivation. I think….no… I believe that the underlining divine reason why I was given this opportunity is because it represents how I’m in an evolving stage in my life. A foundation was laid for me a long time ago. The foundation was created by my parents, grandparents, my siblings, extended family and even some friends. Each person that is a part of any of the categories contributed some kind of way to who I am. However, they don’t define me. Now, here I am almost 30 and I’m just now beginning to become molded and take the form of who I am truly.

True, this is only the first week at the firm and I am still in the honeymoon stage as I’m feeling my way through. Maybe what I am writing at the moment is just that…for the sake of being in the honeymoon stage of things. Nevertheless, I’m still embracing what’s to come and still dreaming big. There’s still something more for me. I feel it and I want it… in the most humble way of course.

First Day, Fresh Start

2006-03-27T21:46:00.000-05:00

Last night you would have thought I would have been on pins and needles. You would have thought that I would have been too excited that I wouldn't been able to sleep. It was the eve of my first day on the new job as a writer, researcher and editor with the public relations firm. It's the start of something new and perhaps something big in my "career" as a writer. Instead, my mood was a bit melancholy as thoughts, other than the job, swelled inside my head.

What frustrated me more yesterday, was the fact that I was itching to write. I'm still behind on a couple of articles for the developing website for Shekinah Publishing, but I couldn't scribble not one syllable. The weekend was perfect. I had the house to myself and there was no one but me, and still in the midst of the mellow atmosphere, I couldn't get my thoughts out.

By the time I got ready for bed last night, I just wrote everything off as a serious case of writer's block. Now as I'm writing this, I'm wondering was this writer's block a concealed symptom of being nervous? What did surprise me was the fact that, through my attempts to not wake up as early as 5:30 this morning, I still woke up at 5:30.... well about 5:45. Before, when I was working the temp job, I was getting up that early to stay ahead of the horrendous traffic that plagues the DC area. Although getting to where I had to go, Alexandria, Virginia, isn't not far from DC, the morning (and evening) commute is no joke.

Nevertheless, despite my natural alarm clock, I lingered in bed until around 7. I got myself together and headed out the door with my mother. A few minutes later I was dropped off at a subway station. My grandmother and I are still sharing her car, but she decided to take it back for the time being. I don't mind. Afterall, it is her car and right now she needs it more than I do. However, where the firm is located, no matter which subway station I come from along the Capitol Hill routes, it's still a good hike to the firm.

Even though I'm a bit spoiled by the luxuries of a car, somehow I didn't mind the morning walk. Spring is starting to peer through the winter layer that seems to hover over this region. The morning air was crisp, but I could smell and taste spring. Don't ask, but for some reason spring always smell like cotton candy and but tasted like pollen to me. With my Ipod pumping my favorite songs and everything looking lovely, I couldn't help but to have some kind of joy flowing through me.

My whole commute took me about an hour. Ten minutes on the train and the rest of the time walking from the SE side of Capitol Hill (Eastern Market) to the NE side where the firm is located. Ironically, it's only three blocks down from where I interned with the National Journalism Center a few years ago. I did get to work on time and actually met the president, Mr Yellow, of the company as he was just arriving.

(Mr. Yellow's eyes maybe hazel, but they give off this yellowish tone)

The day went by slow, but swell. Most of it was about filling out paperwork, reading over some material that I need to familiarize myself with; proposals, publications the company produces and etc., and just getting the feel of the atmosphere. I was asked to look over or proofread a spread design. What was a bit funny about that was when one of the design people saw me with it she came to me and asked "What are you doing with that?" I told her how Mr. Yellow asked me to go over it and she backed off, but not before returning few moments later. It was then she asked me to make sure that I kept the pages in order, but before she could get anything else out, girl who is working at the office manager told the girl to leave me alone and let me do my work.

I chuckled at the whole scene. I actually understood where the design person was coming from. She appears to be a bit sensitive about her work. I think I am the same way. Yet, after looking over the spread, it was actually neatly done. There was one page that I wasn't too sure about, because it appeared to be a bit cluttered with graphics and all, but after reviewing it several times it actually looked fine. There were no mistakes....so far.

During the course of the day, I conversed with the office manager and asked her basic questions about the place, the feel of the place and how does she like working there and so forth. From our conversation, I gathered that the environment, even though it is "boutique style," it's still like any other work place with the ups and down, but there seems to be a balance. The only thing she has had a problem with was in trying to read Mr. Yellow. She was just preaching to the choir with that one, because I couldn't read him at all during my interview with him. At least during my first interview with the other lady writer, there was repore, interaction.

As the office manager put it, sometimes Mr. Yellow can come across in a cold stand-offish way. There is no warmth, but he isn't harsh neither. It's not that he means to, but it is just who he is. She said the hard part for her in the beginning was trying to figure out what he wanted. Overall she feels that the job has served as a good learning experience for her and that Mr. Yellow is actually a cool person to work for. It's just when she can't read him and has to pick his brain that she gets frustrated.

However in saying all of this, she will be leaving the company in a few days. It's nothing bad reflected on the firm, but just as I felt with my government job, she is feeling with hers. I had to laugh a little at the ironing I saw while talking to her. For one, both of us seem to be around the same age. Secondly, she struggled with school just as I had, but now she is looking to graduate in December. Thirdly, she is embarking on new things in her life. She is going through a transition, as I am currently immersed in.

As little or as much as I have gotten to know her today, when she told me the news about her departure I was actually a bit sadden to hear it. However, I understood where she was coming from fully and gave her well wishes.

Besides talking about Mr. Yellow's mode of operation, we did discuss other essential things. Paydays are weekly, but there is no direct deposit. Call me a bit spoiled from working in the government, but direct deposit became my best friend. Who has time to go to the bank every week to make a deposit? The dress code is casual. I can where jeans if I wanted! I did feel a bit over dressed today as I walked in with black slacks, a black top and some heels that I changed into after my morning commute. Everyone else was in jeans. Even Mr. Yellow was in some sweats until he changed into a suit for an outside meeting with a client.

Because I am on a part time schedule for about 60 days, my day ends at 3 pm. I left out feeling the warmth of the day and actually cracking a smile to myself. Somehow, my walk back to the Eastern Market station didn't seem as long as coming from it. With my Ipod pumping my favorite tunes, walking through Capitol Hill felt as if I were walking through a scene on a movie or something. The feeling I felt was weird. A sense of newness hit me.

Indeed, I'm still transitioning.

What I Decided

2006-03-26T01:21:00.000-05:00

In my past life as Blackvelveteen, I dealt with various gentlement callers. Some were and still are good friends of mine and others were nothing more than just a fix in the midst of ailing life as an emotional wreck. Then there was Hazel, a guy who I fell in love with on the fast track. Okay, so perhaps a part of what I was feeling was lust, but it was more than infactuation. I was facinated with him and how he operated. When we first met, I felt some sense of renewal. For a whole year I was drifting away on some cloud and believing in a false reality. I became hysterically blind to any damage that was being done on both our parts and forced myself to live a lie. Somewhere we took a wrong turn which eventually led us to huge falling out by the end of the year and now placing us in a place where we are, or a least I am, so confused about us.

I'm sure the confusion on his end comes from responding to me. Some days I can deal with him as a friend. We'll talk on the phone. We'll do our usual tic for tac joking and we can talk like civilized people. Other times, especially when I have flash backs of what took place between us in the latter part of September into October, I become angry and he becomes a huge turn off to me. I can't get pass the hurt I felt back then. I've been forgiving, but I can't forget. Sometimes when my mind flashes back to it, I cry. What hurts the most is that I honestly loved him to the core, but he didn't realize it until afterwards.

What caused me to love him like I did? I'm not sure. Maybe it was the way I found an instant connection with him when we first started to talk. I peeled away layers of myself and stood before him exposed, literally and figuretively. He did the same for me. There were times when I would just listen to him vent about whatever the lastest family drama was, or just his own issues as a man. I felt compelled and wanted to help him out anyway I could. I stood behind him.

Maybe that was it, I was so far behind he stopped seeing me. I was invisible, but he called it giving me my space. He didn't want to be an added "problem in my life", but I needed him.

Nevertheless, ever since our fallen out, he has been calling a bit more or (thanks to the wonders of technology) he'll shoot me a text message or email here and there. I guess what confuses him even more is when I respond to it half the time. I'll return a call or two. I'll send an email or text message or two. Then out of nowhere, I'll go back to being silent. Then it starts back up again.

The week before I left for New York, I joked with him about cooking dinner. Actually, I felt he owed it to me from a time when we were together and he promised to cook for me, but never got around to it. However, he took it as a serious task and that Friday after work, I was greeted with a nice meal. Not just any meal, a Sunday meal of baked chicken, string beans and rice on a Friday evening. The moment was a bit awkward, but still comfortable in a way. While I chowed down, he was in the midst of doing a few house keeping things. Then after he settled down a bit and I was done, we sat in silence... well not in total silence as Dave Chapelle was cracking jokes off his MP3 player.

It may seem stupid to sit in silence, but sometimes silence can be so loud. A lot can be said in silence. I looked at Hazel and I longed to be back the way we were when we first met. When things were fresh. He looked at me and felt compelled to lay his head on my shoulder and that's how we stayed for a while. I did have sense enough to leave his house at a decent hour. I just can't let this thing get any more perplexing than it is if I throw in sex.

What catches me off gaurd is how he still sees me as his future wife. What scares me is that I may not feel the same way. Once upon a time I could phatom him being..possibly.. my future husband, but now....I don't even know about that. I could weigh the pros and cons of this until the cows come home and still be confused about it all.

Why does he have such a hold my heart? I wish I knew.

Since I have taken on this whole rebirth phase that my life is going through right now, Hazel hasn't been a major factor, but his presence is there. It's right in the back, holding up the wall like slanted beam or something. Some of my friends tend to believe I still have feelings for him. I'll shoot back at them in a defensive way and tell them "hell no."

However, in recent days, in my thinking I've come up with this. While I'm confused about the situation, and as Ms. C pointed out to me before.. my love for him didn't occur overnight so it's not going to go away overnight. While I feel like I can't be with him right now... one thing that I that I have decided... or rather admitted to.... I still love him.

702 - I Still Love You
(With Pharrell Williams of the Neptunes)

See everybody needs someone by their side
And I can't go on without you another night
Since companionship's been gone
My life has been so slow without you, you
See it don't take a rocket scientist to know I love you
And it don't take a rocket scientist to know I need you
See if you believe that you and me can change the world someday
Then you'll believe me when I say

I still love you
I still love you
I decided I still love you
I still love you
I decided
So what do you think

Lets get back together (lets get back together)
There's nothin' it could hurt
It could only get better
Think of what it last felt like
For you and I to turn our nights
Into forever

See...see
See it don't take a rocket scientist to know I love you
And it don't take a rocket scientist to know I need you
See if you believe that you and me could change the world
someday
Then you'll believe me when I say

I still love you
I still love you
I decided I still love you
I still love you
I decided

Never dreamed I'd be so happy and sure of myself
Baby life without you is so dark (so dark, so dark)
Now I know it'll never be me lovin' someone else
This precious love
You're my shining star
I remember when we first fell in love
I was too young to know what it was
I couldn't address what made me melt
But quick to tell you how it felt
That love was so real
And it still is

I still love you
I still love you
I decided I still love you
I still love you
I decided

Just think of the things we planned to do, me and you
Like changing the face of the moon that we once knew
So long as the sun is yellow, oceans are blue
And then we can laugh and cry the days and nights through

I Can't Hep But Wonder...

2006-03-23T03:03:00.000-05:00

So much is in my head right now, but I can't seem to organize my thoughts. Maybe it's because since I've been back from my mini vacation to New York, I've been resting and partly thrown into another full throttle mission.

For one, just before I left last week, I was offered the job with the public relations firm that I had intervewed with about a month ago. There was a lot of back and forth with it as I didn't called back for a second interview until about two weeks ago. What made it more interesting was the fact that I managed to pull that interview off while recovering from food poisoing and a bad acid reflux experience. 90 percent of me had recovered by the time I met with the guy, but I was still breaking out into fevers. The weather has been so janky lately as to if it's going to be below zero this day or in the 80's the next, that it didn't help the situation at all that day. Still I managed to pull through and got the job as a writer/editor/researcher with one of the firm's publications for the Minority Business Association.

The pay isn't much, but I understood that going in, especially since this is a new position he created and only alloted a certain amount for the budget. I had to meet him halfway to start, but I do have a feeling that this can grow into something a lot bigger, and I do mean something more than financial wise.

Things with Shekinah publishing are picking up, but sometimes I feel like either my heart isn't in it like it should be or that I'm scared that I'm going to let Nisha down. She puts so much faith in me with this company.. this business venture. Sometimes it's a bit much. I want to help her in any way I can, but I guess what frustrates me is how we seem to be all over the place right now. There are still some legal issues that need to be ironed out, but in recent months, Nisha has been able to pull in book engagements. We've already been invited and booked for next year's Zora Neal Hurston's festival, which is a huge deal in the Black literature world. Another engagement is taking place at the end of this month, which is sort of a pre-book promotional thing. Nisha will be introducing her book, Church Girl, to a social group of high tea ladies. In talking with her briefly this evening, she thought my pre-book promoional was in May, but after reviewing her schedule, it turned out I am suppose to be with her at the end of this month at this tea event. However, it's pretty obvious I won't be able to make it on such short notice, especially since Miami isn't in my budget at the present moment.

Still, I am starting to look into arrangements in going to Miami sometime in May or June, so Nisha and I can finally sit down and iron out the last bit of legal details for the company. We make due with what we can with her being in Florida and me being here in DC. I pray that everything can smooth out. It's like, everything for the company is right there in our faces, but our motivation levels have not been on the same page. When Nisha's motivation level is down, mine is up. Then when my level is down, her's is up. Just once I would love for our motivation levels to be on the same plane. I love her to death and I just don't want to do anything to mess this up for her, especially since Shekinah is her baby. I'm just the Godmother.

In the midst of all of this, I have been thinking about this transition phase I've been going through. Since I've accepted the job with the firm and seem to be headed in a a good direction, in the words of Carrie Bradshaw.... "I couldn't help but wonder".... when and where does the transition end? Does it end simply because I set out one of my goals... which was to leave the Federal government, break away from school at the moment, protect my sanity and find a job that was more in my field and would help me get to the next level? How will I know when my transition is complete?

I think this was one of the things I was trying to verbalize with my therapist today, but couldn't. We discussed termination, and even though I do feel like I am stronger than I was before, I still feel some kind of suspicion towards the unknown. The Doc expressed that she is proud at the tremedous amount of progress I have made in just about a year. Wow, it will be a year in April since I had my first appointment with her. What she did suggest, instead of abruptly cutting the sessions, we will scale back from bi-weekly to monthly..which is something we have been doing since the beginning of the year really. I tend to like this weening process, because it has allowed me to gradually trust my instincts again.. as far as.. how to handle overwhelming situations.

One of the things I don't want to do is to use therapy is a lifelong crutch. I just needed something to help give me the extra push I needed at the time when I needed it. I needed to stop and reclaim my sanity before I had nothing left. Surely, I was spiraling down into some black hole and it was no joy ride. That was the scariest thing, to have something wrong with you, but not knowing exactly what it was. It was nothing but then again, it was something. Almost like the movie, The Neverending Story, when the creatures were running and fearing "The Nothing." It was this invisible force that destroyed any and everything. You couldn't see it, but you knew it was there.

Nevertheless, I managed to survive "The Nothing," and here I am feeling some sort of rebirth. Part of this rebirth has caused this impulsive mood in me. First it was the trip to New York. Now, I have this sudden urge to toss every peice of furniture out in my bedroom and start fresh. I want.. or rather need a new bed. I'm looking into a full size bed and found one from Crate and Barrel that I'm in love with. However, will it fit in my room? I want to toss out the desk I have with this old clunky Hewett Pakard computer I have. The damn thing didn't even roll over when 2000 came in. Instead it revert to 1900. There were computers back then? Who knew?!?!?!?! In place of the desk, I want to get a bookshelf for the mounds of books and magazines I have. I want a new dresser as well, but I'll probably wait a couple more months before doing that. The main thing is the bed, bookshelf... oh.. and a night stand.

Hopfully, my own budget can sustain all of this.

Live From New York....

2006-03-18T18:42:00.000-05:00

Years ago, during my first overnight stay in the New York area, I had immediately acquired a taste for whatever New York had to offer. However, I was too young to venture into the city on my own and the nightlife....forget about it. Needless to say, most of my trips here were day trips with family or a social group. In recent years, I started to come up to the city with a friend or with a relative and stay overnight in the city, but the nightlife... I was seriously aquiring a fever for it.

This weekend I blended in with the thousand of native New Yorkers and tourists. I saw the play the Color Purple, had a late night dinner at a nearby cafe', woke up the next day and headed to a coffee shop and sucked down a pastry and a blended fruit drink. I did go into tourist mode as I watched parts of the St. Patrick's Day parade along 5th Ave. Then I met up with my cousin and ventured with her as we went into a well known fabric shop, Moods, in the fashion district. Being that she is a student at FIT, she had to go to Moods to collect some swatches for a portfolio of designs she is working on as a project. It was neat helping her out with what patterns and colors would work with a few of her designs.

We did a couple of other things, shop and had dinner at a resturant called The Coffee Shop at Union Square. Soon it was getting close to 8 and she had to be back in Brooklyn in time to change her clothes for her job at a club in Times Square. So, I hopped on the subway headed for Brooklyn with her. We got there in time to relax for a hot minute and for her to change her clothes. Then he hopped back on the train towards Manhattan, where I went back to my hotel room, changed my clothes and met my cousin at the Fashion 40 lounge.
Of course the good thing was I was able to get in free, since she works there. The bad thing I guess is that I got so drunk that I vaguely remember what happened last night. I just know the place was jumping when I got there at 11:30. Everyone was dancing and having a good time. No profilers!!! Amazing!!! A few fellas bought me drinks. I was drinking Melon Balls all night. The rest is a blur.

Needless to say I did make it back to my hotel room safely sometime around 5 am. I'm ashamed to say that I have never so far gone be that I don't rmember much, until now. However, I think I'm paying for it royally as I am in the room with a hangover and suffering from menstrual cramps.

For all it's worth, I did have fun and I'm a bit sadden that I do have to leave tomorrow. I'm glad my hotel is in a good location. I'm right in the fashion district on 7th Ave. I'm directly across from Madison Square Garden and Penn Station, a few blocks from Times Square, and a couple of blocks from Macy's and the Empire State Building.

My cousin has mentioned to me a few a times that she could see me living in NY. Yesterday her words were no different. Who knows. I've contemplated or played with the idea, but never gave it any serious thought. I love visiting the city but to live... maybe. As I told my cousin, if I move to NY or anywhere I would have to make sure I have some type of finacial cushion to help me along the way.

However, as I have stated plenty of times... my heart is still with DC.

Soul Cry - For Aunt P

2006-03-15T11:04:00.000-05:00

For the longest time I wanted to be in denial about Aunt P and her "problem." As a kid I never knew she had one. Sure there were signs, but the signs didn't become visible in my eyes until my pre-teen years. There were there drinking glasses that had aluminum foil on the top with tiny holes that were punctured into it. On the inside of the glass, the bottom was covered in some kind of white residue. The first few times I saw this, I never questioned about such a site. I just figured Aunt P had something nasty to drink, perhaps some kind of milk, and it left its mark at the bottom. However, it still didn't explain the foil with the tiny holes.

So, I went on being a delusional kid, thinking everything was kosher with my family...with my aunt. Then more sightings. There were the old pill or any other kind of medicine bottles that took on a weird form. The bottles had a hole that was cut in on the side. From that hole, the outter shell of a plastic pen stuck out like a bow from a ship. Sometimes the top of the bottles weren't covered and other times, that damn foil with the tiny holes in it was placed firmly around the rim.

The more I came across them; under the bed, behind the bed or hidden in newspaper in the closet, I became curious and I had to ask. However, I didn't run off to my mother or grandmother the answer. Instead, while talking on the phone to my Jamaican/American "boyfriend" at the time, I asked him what did it all mean. I asked him about the white residue and I described to him what the glass and plastic bottle devices looked like. All he came up with was that it might be a homemade bong.

I was such a sheltered kid. I didn't even know what in the world a "bong" was. I just thought it was a word to describe a sound. I probably became agitated with his answer, since I didn't know what he was talking about. I don't remember much else about our conversation, just that he tipped-toed around the possibilty of my aunt being involved in something that was a bit deep for me. It was just too much for me to even phatom, that a lady that I loved to death and partially looked up to was into drugs.

So, I stayed in the land of the seriously diluted, thinking that the only reason why Aunt P disappeared for a few days without any word was because she was tired of grandma's nagging about her life and perhaps my mother trying to run her life. Even, a letter from Aunt P addressed to my grandmother that I found while in the process of helping my grandmother move, didn't phase me much. Even the fact that in the letter, my aunt was basically admitting to staying out late with her friends and smoking marijuana but not using anything more or whatever else my grandmother was alledgedly accussing her of.

Then there was the time when my mother was upset with me for having a pager at the age of 15. I didn't mean any harm by owning one. I didn't mean any harm by owning one. I just figured that since I was working and could afford one and the upkeep for the bill that I needed something to say "it is mine," because I worked hard for it. My mother didn't see it in that light. She automatically equated owning a pager at 15, legit job or no legit job, to come out to being associated with drugs.

"Maybe she's dealing drugs. I don't know," I remember her saying into the phone to my grandmother.

Later that evening, as my parents and I headed to a lint service at church, my mother grumbled all the way. I don't remember her exact words, but I remember it went something like this,

"My child out here at 15 with a pager. My sister strung out on drugs. So she trying to turn into her aunt?"

That was my first real verbal confirmation that something wasn't right with Aunt P and whatever I had done, my mother saw it as a reflection of my aunt.

It wouldn't be until a few years later that I actually heard my aunt admit to me that something was going on with her, but it was so watered down. I don't remember the date. I just remember I was 18 or 19. Just had not longed returned home to stay after living in New Jersey for a year. We were standing in the kitchen in the house in Alexandria, VA. The whole family was there. We were having dinner... maybe the usual seafood Friday dinner with grandma. I noticed how clear my aunt's face looked and I paid her a compliment. Her response,

"Thank you. It's clear because I stopped using drugs."

It was then my grandmother gave a nervous look. Then my aunt said,

"What? She knew. "

Then everyone went on about their business like nothing took place.

I never knew and still don't know all of the drugs that my aunt has tried. I just know marijuana is one.

Fast forward to 1999 when my cousin is born. For a while, motherhood for my aunt got off to a rocky start. Her disappearing acts had started up again, leaving all of furious because she would "dump" her son on us and "forget" to mention when she would be back to pick him up. Sometimes it wuld be for one or two days. Once it was for a week.

Somehow, perhaps through the power of prayer, my aunt managed to pull herself together and became the mother that my cousin needs, especially after my grandmother's husband's stroke. The whole family had to pitch in some kind of a way to help out and we still are, but a cloud seems to hover around.

Just when everyone is relaxed with the idea that Aunt P is dependable, her disappering acts have started again. It was just a couple of weekends ago when and her half of a brain functioning fiance - (no, seriously, due to a car accident several years ago, that almost took his life, he has some brain damage) - ran off and left my grandmother with my cousin. They didn't return until 2 am that Sunday into Monday morning.

Now, here it is in the middle of the week and they pulled the same stunt. What odd is the fact that my aunt lefther car at my grandmother's house and they left out her house on foot in the middle of the night. If you talk to my grandmother, she'll say that she doesn't let Aunt P stress her out, but it's a cover. My grandmother is up in age and her nerves are bad. She gets nervous at the slightest thing. She's nervous about me leaving for New York in the morning. Two weekends ago, when she didn't know where Aunt P was then, she broke down over the phone and cried into my mother's ear.

This morning she tried to keep up a front. I went over to her house to pick up my cousin to take him to school. That's another thing, he knows when something is wrong. I saw the look on his face, but my grandmotehr tried to keep thigns normal for him. When he walked outside and saw his mother's car, he was even more confused. He asked about her and before I could come up with an answer my grandmother blurted out,

"She took the subway to work this morning."

My cousin, being the inquisitive kid that he is, kept asking questions. Why did she take the subway? How did she get to the subway?

My grandmother had an answer for everything.

"The car is broke. It doesn't work. She caught the bus to the subway."

No one knows where Aunt P is or when she will return. Right now, everyone has to be accomodating to make sure my cousin is taken care of. Today is my day off from work. I had plans to sleep a little late, finish my washing and pack for my trip. I also had errands to run later on this evening. Instead, I was jarred out of my sleep at 6 am and informed that I had to take my cousin to school. I'm also picking him up and he just may have to ride with me this evening as I make my rounds.

Part of me is furious at my aunt, but anytime a situation like this arises with her, I immediately think of a scene from A Raisin in the Sun.

There is a part where there son gambled th family's fortune away.. or he rather entrusted with a friend of his for some investments. Instead, his friend Willie ran off with the money. Beneatha Younger, the sister, started to curse her brother for throwing away the family's money. That's when the mother stepped in and said in so many words that even though Brother made a mistake, he has to learn from it and he still had to be a man... meaning.. let him have his dignity and that she should love him regardless. Then the mother asked a powerful question,

"Have you cried for your brother today?"

It's like... dispite whatever grief "Brother" put the family through... you still have to grieve for ever spirit or demons he is fighting that put him in that position.

It's a situation like this.. where I want to be mad with my aunt, but I can't be. I just want to "cry" because she is battling with something that has been going for years. It's powerful. I see her trying, but at some point she eventually gives in.

I just wish she could fight a little harder, if not for herself... for her son.

Transitioning Along with DC

2006-03-09T21:37:00.000-05:00

Spring is only 11 days away, but the city seems to be in transition for it. I love the first hints or taste of spring. The mornings may start off with a chill in the air and a bit crisp as if it were fall, but by midday the mercury slowly rises and holds steady in the 60's, sometimes the 70's. The season isn't fully there, but just the feel of it makes me drool and anxious to want more of it.

It's funny, I'm a winter baby, born in February in the midst of a snow storm, but I truly can't stand cold weather. I live for warmth, ice cold wine coolers, a slight breeze wisping against the nape of my neck, bare legs, sarongs, tank tops and my open toed heels. However, the heat in DC sometimes goes a bit too far, since the city is built on a man made marsh/swamp-like land. It can get quite sticky here...literally.

Speaking of DC, with all the social ills that may loom within the city, I still love it here. Even though there are times when I want to fly away and claim residence elsewhere for a while, I know my heart belongs here in DC. I've been here all my life. I'm so comfortable here, even though I long to explore other places for a short stint.

This week actually proved it even more. Since quitting my Federal government job, I've been scouring every job search site there is looking for a better job that will help me maintain a livable status and focus more on my writing. In the meantime, I've been temping or perhaps being more of a consultant of some sort to different associations or non-profit organizations that are mainly based in the neighboring Alexandria, Virginia. (Just right across the Potomac River) Some writing and editing has been involved along with some data entry projects and administrative assistance. A couple of the situations looked as if they would turn into something permanent, but for whatever reason, it just wasn't meant to be.

The latest incident occurred earlier this week, where I was offered a temp to perm job with a company that was looking for a staff assistant that would serve as a floater performing a few low level administrative duties and then double back to be a writer for the the newsletter. Monday didn't go so well for me, as I was a little dismayed by the administrative duties. I don't mind doing administrative stuff. As I told the lady that was hiring, I am flexible, especially since my background does include administrative work. However, I got bored quickly. Mainly because all she had me do was little menial stuff; unload the dishwasher in the kitchen area, open and close out the mail meter system and of course answer the phones and distribute faxes and the mail. I tried to tell myself to suck it up and that it wasn't all the bad. The pay that was being offered was in the range I need, but even hyping myself up for the pay didn't work.

The only contentment I found working that job came on Tuesday. I was asked to write three articles for the newsletter. Two were nothing but short write ups on the topic at hand and the other was a bit longer as it was about a proposed California legislative bill. I took my time and worked on the articles all day Tuesday and finished it up by Wednesday morning. By Wednesday afternoon I became bored again and realized I would feel trapped again as I had in my government job. I think the hiring lady sensed it, because by the day's end she caught a curt attitude with me. Along with that "tude" came and issue about the hours I worked. She didn't like the fact that I was staying until 5:30 instead of 5:00 as she told the temp agency that the designated hours were 9 - 5. Well excuse me for trying to make sure I work eight hours, since the agency does subject the time you take for lunch from your working hours. Obviously she had no sympathy for me as she changed the hours on my timesheet and proceeded to "suggest" that I leave at the moment. It was obviously she wasn't going to put out the money to the temp agency to keep me those last few minutes of the work day. Needless to say, I changed my hours back and when I told my contact at the temp agency what went down, she told me not to worry about it and accepted my original hours.

I will say, that during the course the day on Wednesday, my contact at the temp agency was working with me diligently in placing me in another permanent position and I appreciate her for that. An opportunity has come up for me to work with a law firm in downtown DC as an editor/proofreader. I start that gig on Monday and it seems that this is ongoing until...whenever. I grinned from ear to ear at the news. I didn't realize how much I miss working in the city.

Then the wildest thing happened. Last night I dreamt that I was in Africa. I was working on a story on Nelson Mandela and the odd thing was, he was dying. I was in some room with him while he laid in a hospital bed. A guard or a guy that appeared to be a guard was in the room with me. He proceeded to tell me Mandela's life story while Mandela laid in front of me dying. It was the most tripped out and scary thing ever. I woke up from the dream puzzled trying to understand why in the hell would I dream about Mandela dying.

When I reported to the temp agency this morning, I was hit with an assignment that will carry over into tomorrow. I was sent back to DC to work with Africare, a non-profit organization that provides various aide or assistance to African nations. Immediately, I was embraced within the environment and vice versa. They are actually housed in a historic school building that they converted into their own space. It partly looks like a museum with all the displays of African artifacts that hang around and are in enclosed cases around the building. Again, I was called upon to do a some writing.. in restructuring a few letters. I'll be doing some of that tomorrow as well as redoing the donor list.

As I drove into the city, I felt this unexplainable giddiness. Later on as I walked through the city blocks, familiar territory, I walked with my usual stride instead of a slump like I noticed I had been doing lately. I smiled at my flirting Latino brothers that were working nearby at a construction site. I was able to pick up a few of their words and started to laugh. What really caught me off guard was how I burst out laughing and said.. "My Gawd I miss this!" I miss the action of the city!!!!

Working in Alexandria has been a nice experience. I know the city a little bit more, especially Old Town Alexandria which is like the small downtown area. Yet, it just didn't feel like home to me. I acquired a fondness to a few places in Alexandria; a pizzeria on Duke Street, a deluxe car wash place off of Route 1, the Academy of Otolaryngology on the water front- one of the places I worked in and an ice cream parlor on King Street by the water front.

After it's all said and done, I think eventually I will be called home....DC...

PMS

2006-03-06T22:00:00.000-05:00

It starts out as a craving. Pulling the old "sneak attack" on my vitals, making my hormones jump around like club kids dancing to some techno beat. My daily focus of constructive productivity slowly fades into destructive reproducing activities. All I want to do is experience a release so far out of this world that I think of every way possible of doing so. Should I call so-and-so? Should I stop by the store and get batteries for my "BOB?"

Sometime between plotting a trip to the toy store and calling Mr. So-and-so, a heat wave will roll through my hair follicles all the way down to the soles of my heels. I feel it the most in my upper body. Wiping sweat from my chest and brow is no laughing matter, especially in twenty below temperatures. I'll wrinkle my face to form a frown and say something aloud like "I'm too young for this menopausal-like shit!" It's then when I feel the slightest contraction coming from my abdomen and my frown turns into a sullen stare followed by a moan.

Sure, I'll ease the sensation with a cup of hot herbal tea or a couple of pills, but more than likely I'll stick with the old fashion remedy...chocolate. It'll work for a while, until my body decides something without my consent. I'm incline to believe that my brain is left out on certain decisions. I believe all of my reproductive organs have their own country, with their own brain of operations and their own union or congress. So, when my uterus decides it's tired of its current location, my reproductive organs conspire to shift it elsewhere. That's where the fun begins. Contraction after contraction, I become a pill popping queen. Anything to put an ax to the "move."

In the midst of the uterus wars, my body gradually becomes a bit sore and tender, but no area becomes as sensitive as the buxom. A bra during this time is considered a foe. Hands, lips, eyes...anything trying to get near that area is immediately denied access. How I wish I could put a "Do Not Disturb" sign on them, because the slightest touch can cause an uncomfortable situation for me. That means more pills...errrrr ummm.... chocolate.

Physically as my body morphs into this "walking-sauna-with-shifting-parts-and-not-so-sturdy-nobs," emotionally I am a wreck. Actually, that's the grand finale of it all. The hypersensitivity, aloofness, giddy one moment and visibly upset the next is enough to label me Sybil (yanno the chic with the 16 different personalities) and ship me off to a psych ward.

I try to stay to myself during these times so that feeling are spared, but people just don't want to take the hint. True, people roam this earth 24/7 so there is nowhere to run or hide. However, when you see me in a corner to myself all I ask is that you stick a mirror under my nose to make sure I'm breathing. When you see a fog let me be and walk on by. Don't ask me nothing. If I want something then I'll ask or attempt to get it myself.

I'll be fine once this time period passes by. The good thing is, because my body is acting as if it's living on the planet Saturn and I've never been a regular chic (cycles have always been off balance), this only occurs once every blue moon. However, as I have noticed in the past few years, that when this happens it's forceful. Maybe it's Mother Nature's way of being vengeful for what Saturn did to me and my reproductive organs, but why am I being caught in the crossfire?

So, in writing this...all I ask is that you bare with me for the next few days. It's going to be a bumpy ride.

The Pressing Comb

2006-03-04T22:06:00.000-05:00

A prompt from the writing group I'm a part of suggested that I look in a junk drawer and pick an object to write on that brings out memories. Being that I was away from home at the time I mentally thought up the things in the kitchen junk drawer. Out off the ball of twine, telephone cords, pliers and other little knick knacks I choose the pressing comb....

It's been about five years or more since I have had a perm. Funny, I thought a perm or a relaxer was my permanent emancipation from burn marks behind the ears and the back of my neck and hearing someone yelling at me to hold still so that could "catch my ends." So, during my sixth grade year in school, my aunt slapped that Pressing Comb in the Jar onto my hair and I tucked the actual pressing comb into the junk drawer in the kitchen, vowing to never pick up the wretched tool again. I mean, God Bless Madam C.J. Walker, but how much more of the burns could I take? Perhaps pressing combs were the reasons why my mother, grandmother and great-grandmother kept cocoa butter in the house. It was for accidental hot comb burns.

Nevertheless, all the chemicals ever did was send my hair into a sudden trauma. It grew, but it could never find it's way out of that icky stage of being short in some areas and long in others. Affectionately, this is known as the "In between stage," the point in which your hair is too confused about it's growth so you are either forced to throw in the extensions or cut down.

Perhaps part of it is my fault for not tying it down right at night or even at all. Maybe I didn't grease my scalp often enough. Afterall, my hair is thick and it sucks up oil like a Hoover. One day my hair is glistening in the sun as if it were some kind of exotic oasis. The next day it's looking like the Sahara, thick, dry and craving for a quencher. Maybe the fact that I wasn't careful enough when removing polywax extensions or sewn in tracks had something to do with the stunted growth of my hair. Then again, it may have something to do with receiving my first real hair cut during my junior year in high school. What possessed me to even want to chop off my mane, I have no clue.

At any rate, my new found freedom came around the time I started college. I was still getting my hair trimmed from the cut, but after a while, I decided to let my hair grow out. Soon I went from a full fledge perm to getting my hair texturized. Afterwhile I let the chemicals grow out and my hair is now in an "au natural" state. I just wanted to know what it felt like to have my hair back in it's natural state.

Thick, coils that naturally curl into a tight puff when wet, kinky and unevenly "yoked" ends at this point, my hair is in a state of confusion. A couple of times I worn my hair in kinky twists but I quickly grew tired with that. I'm at a constant inner battle with my hair. Should I dread? Should I continue to wear twists? Should I go back to getting my hair texturized and then flexirod (small tendrils curled with soft foamy rods which made my hair look like a nicely shaped short cropped afro) Should just go ahead and run back to the perm and then throw in the extending to make up for whatever length I'm lacking at the moment?

For each question I've asked about my hair, I've answered myself with a no. It's the most frustrating thing in the world when you have no clue what to do with your own hair. What has taken me aback is the fact that I seem to have found a love for wigs. Wigs have been a safety net (if you will) for me for the past three or so years. I notice how my moods may change accordingly too. With a long, straight, but full of body wig, I feel a bit flirty, sensual and mysterious. With a curly one I tend to feel kind of playful and active. Yet, just like with any other hairstyle, I grow tired of wigs too.

However, while in the phase of wearing wigs, I've been running back to the very thing that I ran from at the age of twelve...the pressing comb. Every two to three weeks, I'll wash my hair. I'll slap some of the Healthy Hair Butter product from Carol's Daughter, which has helped in some growth. Then I'll fire up the stove, lay the pressing comb on top of the burner and then set a damp wash cloth on the side (to cool the comb off some when it comes right off the stove)

Funny thing is, I don't press my hair bone straight. I still want the natural feel of it. I don't worry much about catching the ends. Instead, I press it enough to make it manageable for a comb, brush an my fingers to make it through. However, even the process of making it manageable takes an hour because my hair is so thick.

I will say, I haven't had to worry about any one burning my ears or neck. However, once the comb was so hot, that even cooling it on the wet cloth first didn't help. I burned a good but small portion of hair in the back/neck area. I try not to use the pressing comb every time I wash my hair, because I do know the dangers of heat to the hair.

Someday soon I'll be liberated totally from the pressing comb, but in all honestly, isn't this the Black girl's "in case of emergency" tool? Even if it is just to tighten the edges just a tad?

Revisiting My Mantra

2006-02-27T18:34:00.000-05:00

(I had written about this in my former journal as Blackvelveteen@Diary-X, but like the rest of my past within those pages, It was taken from me. So here is to revisiting....)

A few days into the New Year I took on a mantra for this point in time of my life.

It started with me listening to the track "Let's Be Young" by New York City house music dj, Quentin Harris. I don't know what it was about the song that embraced me. There are no words. It's just a hypnotic beat with synthesized sounds, some bass, violins and blaring horns. The song stayed on repeat for days. Even when I didn't actually play the song, the tune still repeated itself inside my head.

Then, a funny feeling occurred one evening as I stood in the kitchen. A sudden tidal wave called fear consumed me. You see, I've been in a transitional phase since August when I resigned from my Federal government job. I completely stepped out on faith, but worried that perhaps I might have not helped in the progression of my life but contributed to the regression. I've been working as a temp and looking into freelance gigs until I find something that suits me and my writing talent. As I stood in the kitchen and thought about my financial woes and how money is coming in awfully slow I felt a little dismayed.

While 2005 was about change, towards the end I began to feel weary. It was mainly due to my mother's mini stroke that occurred a few weeks before the Thanksgiving holiday. Then was the continuing saga of helping my grandmother who is the sole caregiver of her husband who is in recovery of a stroke that he had last April. By the year's end I begin to feel nonchalant, because I was trying to focus on family and my own destiny at the same time. It was draining and yet perplexing at times because my life had become so pivotal that I just didn't know which way to swing.

As soon as that rush of fear came over me, almost in the same breath, I found myself in utter contentment. I smiled and said,

"Life is good."

As my thoughts further roamed, I had another feeling. I felt as if I have something to celebrate, but I didn't know what. Now I do know... It's life!!!! For so long I've been bound by the sadistic spirits of fear, loneliness and doubt. Somehow I managed to break free.

It was then that I reminded myself of how change does not occur overnight. It comes slowly. Transitions are bascially stages of metamorphosis. For the longest time I always identified with the spirit of a butterfly. What sadden me was the fact that I felt I had my wings, but something or someone had them bound. Perhaps it was me. Afterlife, we can be our own worse enemy.

So, it was in that moment that I took on the mantra "Let's Be Young." While youth physically isn't infinite or immortality, in our hearts it can be. Youth affords us the opportunities to accomplish anything we desire. As long as we think and know that we are young, we tend to strive for whatever it is we desire.

My desire?

I want to live. Funny, here I am at 26 and I feel like I've only begun to live.

Emancipation

2006-02-26T01:21:00.000-05:00

Saturday, February 25, 2006 was the day I died. I had no idea that death would come so easy and so painless. Yet, as I'm typing this out I do feel pain and some anguish behind it. I didn't want my life to be cut short, especially without my permission or without me having any control over it. As they say, "Shit happens."

You see, for the past four or five years I have been chronicling my life. Every good and bad decision I made, every kinky sexual encounter I experienced, every prayer, every simple thought, every argument with my mother and every frustration I had with my life was all typed out and posted within the virtual pages of my diary. Perhaps this was just a way for me to literally see what I was doing to myself and place some kind of understanding with it. Sometime ago, in mid-chronicling, I decided I would turn my life into a book. So, as my life evolved, so did my work of fiction that is loosely based on my life.

Spoiled by technology, I took for granted the luxuries of going paperless. I never gave a thought about the failures of simple mechanics. Just as we all think that our youth is infinite, I felt the same way about my online journal. I just assumed that my legacy, good or bad, would be in print and amongst the millions of data traveling along that great information super highway. After all, my journal was available through the various search engines.

Now I know better.

Two weeks ago, what started out as simple hard drive growing weary rapidly turned into a critical surgical movement to recover any information on the drive. My pulse, my writing, grew weaker as the days passed. I silently prayed for a miracle, for some divine intervention to step in. Guess I didn't pray hard enough, because all that is left is a white screen with some scribble on it. My epitaph...

"Here Lies BlackVeleteen: July 31, 2002 - February 25, 2005"

(By the way, Blackvelveteen was my nickname in the former life.)

Saving the hard drive was out of the so called "techies" realm. They tried, but in their efforts they only destroyed the drive, making it unreadable or only able to pick up fragments of information.

Ironically, for two years I struggled with an ending for my book. The year 2005 would have actually served as my ending, but just as I was ready to sort through those thoughts, my life was taken.

In all honesty, all really isn't lost. I have much of what was written in a backup file, except for the latter part of 2005. It was those moments in the last part of last year that were particularly critical in my life. So, now when I revisit my book I must pull from memory as much as possible about a certain event in time.

Yet, as I think about my friend LAF, and what she told me yesterday, "Everything happens for a reason," I'm inclined to believe there is some sort of epiphany with all of this. You see, for last few weeks I've been thinking in retrospect about my life. I went back and re-read past journal entries and wondered had I had grown from the "girl" I once was. In the midst of such thinking, I laid down one night and had a peculiar dream. There is no doubt in my mind that it was about growth and whatever newness to come in my life. The symbols were there;

- Old schoolmates from grade school looking like how I last saw them
- I was the only only one looking as I should now
- A baby, which automatically means newness
-Me blurting out the word "Serenity" and suddenly realizing the calm environment around me.

For the longest time I had been bound by my demons of depression, loneliness and trying to live up to the standards of others, mainly my mother. It wasn't until the latter part of 2005 that I broke free. By the start of this year, 2006, I felt myself moving forward with the transition but I still felt stuck in mid-air with no where to land. For a while, I grew anxious and waiting to coming out of this transition. Actually, I still feel this way.

Now, with my virtual death that occurred over the weekend and a promising opportunity that seems to be headed my way, I feel as if I have been freed once and for all from the past. So it is here, that I will chronicle my life in transition.

Saturday, February 25, 2006 was the day I was reborn.