Why??? Vol. 1

WHY?
I go to the gym at least 4 times a week, and every evening that I’m there I see the same chick doing the same stupid mess. She goes into the locker room and puts on a FULL face of makeup–I’m talking pancake foundation and all. She then proceeds to spend about 45 minutes on the elliptical machine, heads to do some weight training, then onto the treadmill or bike. She sweats like a man, so by the time she’s done, her face looks like a Picasso painting with all the color smeared everywhere. She also douses herself in Bur.ber.ry Brit perfume before she begins her workout, and her “scent” wafts all over the gym. A few times she put entirely too much on and I had to end my workout early because the smell gave me a headache.

WHY?
Call me spoiled or whatever, but I get my nails done every two weeks and get a pedicure once a month. All year, not just in the summer time. The last 3 times that I’ve been in for a pedicure, this woman has been there with her son who appears to be about 4 or 5 years old–definitely old enough to understand “NO” and “STOP”. All 3 times, while the woman was getting her pedicure, her darling son turned on the water in the empty pedicure chairs and started splashing around like he was at home. The nail techs tried to be nice and asked him to stop, but he kept splashing and dumping their products into the water. The mother just said, “Adam, stop it. That’s not nice. Those aren’t your things.” All this, rather than just packing a book and some toys for him or better yet, leaving his azz at home with dad or a babysitter. My mother would have gotten up from the pedicure chair, feet half done and proceeded to whoop my behind in front of everyone if I had tried some crap like that.

WHY?
I drive to work everyday now. I used to have the option of taking Metro a few days a week, but where we live dictates otherwise. Almost every morning, I encounter atrocious driving from the other people on the road. Now, I’m not going to act like I’m the best driver in the world, cuz hey I make mistakes too, but I’m in a league of my own compared to a few people out there. A lady who lives in the same complex that I do takes the same road to work, so I usually see her at some point during my commute. Every time I see her, she makes the WORST errors. She just changes lanes all willy nilly without looking to see what’s in the lane next to her, she will slam on her brakes on the highway if she senses that she’s going too much over the speed limit, she’ll cross over 4 lanes of traffic at 85 mph just to get to her exit all while having a copy of her novel laid on her steering wheel/lap. I asked her about hre antics once and she said that she really doesn’t pay much attention to the other drivers, just what she’s doing. Ummm. No. Not a good idea.

Volume 2 coming soon

Victimize Me

This weekend, D and I went out with a few of our friends and ended up having an interesting conversation. One of the couples we were out with were talking about a lady they know who is a single mother raising 5 kids on her own, none of whom have the same father mind you, and she is struggling, so they feel sorry for her and want to help her by buying the kids’ school supplies. We definitely know their hearts were in the right place, because lawd knows it’s hard out there for a single mama–I was raised by one, so I do know first hand.

But D and one of the other girls (who is a 4th grade teacher) both brought up the same valid point. They wondered why when a woman sleeps around without children, she’s a ho’ but then if she does the same and has kids by a bunch of men, she’s a victim because she’s a single mom. In all honesty, I have to wonder the same thing.

I’ve seen it happen more often than I’m really comfortable with. I’m using one woman in particular to illustrate my point. This girl, who’s about 3 years younger than me, started out in the youth choir at church, etc etc but as she grew into a young woman she fell hard from grace. She started sleeping around with people in the church, slept with a few married men, and was seen at the “clinic” being treated for ‘that stuff‘; basically acting like much less than a lady. The church women had LOTS to say about her–”that child ain’t nothing but a hoochie now”, “can’t nothin’ but prayer save her behind now”, “both her and her mama should be shamed, with her actin like a slut!”, and so on and so on.

She came back to church a few months later with a pregnant belly. The church women were still wary of her, but softened a bit in their words to her. She gave birth and had a hard time financially like most any single parent would. But five months later, she showed up pregnant again. When asked if the babies had the same father, she put her head down in shame. The church women of course stood by her side, allowing her to take comfort in them. Six months after that baby was born, she had an abortion (my mom was her nurse at the office where the procedure was done)–different dude this time. Three and a half months later, back at the same office looking in my mom’s face again to have another abortion–different dude. Five months later, back in the SAME office in my mom’s face yet again, but this time with a miscarriage–different dude. Seven months later, at the ripe old age of 22, she walks back in church belly pregnant AGAIN. Different Dude. This time a collection was taken up in church to help her buy baby stuff, complete with the woe is me sob story. My mother was speaking to the church women who were sticking up for the girl and explained to them how she came into her office more than twice, and all the women could say was, “She’s just a victim of her environment. She doesn’t know better.”

How is it that she has three babies, and is suddenly a victim of her environment? She was participating in the same behavior as before she became a mother. But she was a ho’ then, and is a victim now. The only victims in that situation are her children.

Now don’t get me wrong, single parents do have it rough. It’s difficult to raise a child with help from no one but yourself. But my sympathy wanes when a woman is voluntarily repeatedly putting herself in that situation. Opinions aside though, the question raised was valid. Why does having a child make a (former?) hoe a victim even when she continues the same behavior patterns?

I wish I had an answer for that. What’s your take on it? Get at me in the comments.

Sunday Scripture

“Curds and honey he shall eat that ye may know to refuse the evil and choose the good”
Isaiah 7:15

Remember to praise Him always through the good and the bad.

Friday Flashback

Do you ever sometimes wonder what happened to your favorite singers? I got to wondering about this group a while back and why they never did another upbeat song. Anyway, it’s Boyz II Men, “Motownphilly”

Happy Friday!!

Adjectives do not make the man

Thanks everyone for all the kind words over the last few days. I’m thankful for each and every one of you and your comments. They’ve really meant so much. I’m feeling better now, and am getting out of my funk one day at a time, stronger every day.

I have to say though, a lot of you mention that D is a good dude, and I couldn’t agree more. But that got me thinking about this whole good dude concept. There’s been a lot of “talk” around the blogosphere lately about good dudes and the lack thereof and it’s really got me irritated.

I’ll probably get blasted for my opinions, but whatever. It is my damn blog after all. Anyway. More often than not, when I ask women what constitutes a “good man”, they launch into a litany of adjectives something akin to this:

“He’s got to be:

tall

dark-skinned

light-skinned

handsome

college-educated

muscular

well-hung

financially well-off

well-dressed

and so on and so on, etc

That’s great, but where are the personality traits? What about how he treats you and how he makes you feel? What is he about? What causes does he really support? What are his views about God and spirituality? It’s not enough to just ask does he go to church. How was he raised? Who raised him? Last time I checked, those things were more important than how muscular he is.

Too many times I’ve seen women who basically walk around with a list of adjectives that a man must resemble in order for her to date him. Enter a real good dude who treats her like a queen and does nothing but enhance her life mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. But his adjectives don’t match the ones on her list. He’s automatically crossed off the list and tossed to the curb. He’s put into the category of a “he ain’t shit” man, and she continues going around bitching about how there’s no good men out there. The good ones that might fit 90% of her adjective list pick up on her shallow, negative, judgemental attitude and dismiss her. So those men become “he ain’t shit” men as well–because they don’t want her. God forbid someone not find her to be the best woman going, right. God forbid someone think she have an unattractive attitude.

So finally someone convinces her to go on a date with someone that doesn’t quite match her list of required adjectives. Let’s say he doesn’t have a white-collar job, but is instead a Metro train driver. She likes him okay, but she writes him off as well because he doesn’t manage expense accounts at work. “He can’t do nothin’ for me”, she says, trying to take comfort in her list of must-haves.

But let me tell you, a list of adjectives does not make a man. Rarely will the “one” fit that list perfectly. Yes, please have standards, but be open to the possibiilty. How do I know? Because I was the one with that list. Before I opened myself up to the idea that my good dude may not be a mirror-image of me in terms of career or anything else, I swore that most men “weren’t shit” and that very few “could do anything for me”. But then I changed my thinking because I realized that trying to find a man that matched my adjective list was preventing me from being a good me so I didn’t attract many good dudes to begin with.

My good dude, D, doesn’t really match the list I had in mind. He’s not college-educated; he instead went to the Army after high-school and then off to Afghanistan to fight for my freedom. He doesn’t wear a suit and tie to work; instead he wears a gun, nightstick, handcuffs, and does his job from a police cruiser. He doesn’t have a gold AmEx card; instead he has 2 regular Visa cards and he’s the most financially responsible man I know and manages his well. He doesn’t have a huge house; instead we have a comfy apartment and is preparing to buy a townhouse. He’s nothing that I thought I wanted, but everything that I need and has turned out to be everything that I really want.

My whole point is, before you start writing men off as no good because they don’t fit your perfect little list, take a closer look. The good dude might just be the one you let slip away or the one you’re trying to distance yourself from now. Keep your standards, not a list of adjectives. I promise, good will come.

Sigh

My soul hurts today. I’ve been crying since Saturday and I’ve just finally been able to get myself together enough to go to work. I, like most people, have always dealt with the little voices of doubt and negativity in my head. But this weekend those voices became deafening, and their volume shattered the glass eggshell that covers my soul.

For basically my whole life, I’ve faced and triumphed over a lot of adversity. I never really let myself process a lot of those things, I just stuffed the memory down and kept it moving. But in so doing, the little negative voices moved in. When I was busy in my life, like when I was in school full time and working full time and dancing 6 days a week and still in competitions, I could basically block them out. But when things were calm and less busy, blocking them was not as easy. Somehow I managed to not be knocked down completely and thrown into a life-long chronic depression because of all of that, but I was lucky.

Right now, my life isn’t as busy as it was a few years ago. I’m on summer break from grad school, work is okay, and I have a great drama-free home life with D and my family and friends. So in my quiet days, the negative talk has gotten so loud. And now I have more than enough time and opportunity to really think about the things I’ve gone through and examine the old bruises to my psyche. And let me tell you, they are many. They’ve healed over pretty well, but I got the proverbial beat-down harder than I thought. My self-confidence slipped out of my grasp over the years, slow enough that I didn’t notice it until it was almost gone. When now, I look at myself and I see a broken glass with cracks in it that no one bothered to have fixed.

I finally explained it all to D, and he listened and he cried right along with me. Rather than be shaken by my fragility or scared off by my heaving sobs, he held me and told me that it’s time for me to be healed. But before I can be repaired, I need to give myself a chance to hurt since I’ve never really done that before. So he told me to let myself feel the searing pain that I’ve managed to stuff so far down and cry it out. And it feels good to finally let it all out and stop pretending that I’m not affected. I hid all of that away from most men, because I was afraid they wouldn’t know how to deal with it, but I’m lucky this time.

Sorry if this doesn’t make sense to any of you, but just know that I’m hurting, but I’ll be alright. The fun will be back soon!

Friday Flashback

Yall know about my undying love for old school Michael Jackson, right? Well, if you didn’t, you do now. So here’s one of my favorites, just because I can. It’s “Don’t Stop Till You Get Enough”.

Happy Friday!

I Been Taggededed

Ms. BkDiva tagged me. It was harder than I expected to think of 8 random azz things about myself, so umm… here goes I guess:

Rules-
1. We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
2. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
5. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

Just The Facts, Ma’am~

1. When I eat sandwiches, I rip them into little pieces and then eat the pieces. I can’t just bite into it. This goes for hamburgers too. The only time I eat a sandwich normally is if it’s a sub.

2. I am deathly afraid of sheep. When I moved in with D, the route I was taking to work had me passing a sheep farm. I had to change that QUICKLY.

3. It’s hard to make me angry, but if you do and you see a tear come out of my eye, go the other way. It’s gonna be bad for everyone in my path

4. At 5′7″, I’m the shortest member of my family. My mom is 6′1″, my dad is 6′3″, my brother is 6′5″, etc etc. Even my 12 year old niece is taller than me. I can’t reach anything in the upper cabinets at my parents’ house, so they have a step stool for me.

5. I can’t sleep a whole night without my raggie doll. It’s about 23 years old now and has been worn down so much that all the stuffing is out of the body. I keep it under my pillow.

6. I can’t wear socks that come above my ankles. They have to be those little footie socks, but that little pom pom on the back of some irritates the mess out of me.

7. I am terrified of dying in a nursing home alone. I made D promise that if I lost all of my faculties when I get old that he’d find another place for me to spend my final days.

8. I’m taking a Vietnamese language class so I can understand what the people at the nail shop are saying about people.

I’m not tagging anyone since just about everyone in the blogosphere has done this. If you haven’t, feel free to accept the tag and post your randoms.

Day Off

I’m taking a blogger day off today. Have a good one!

Bridesmaid Blues

Some people like drama too damn much, so when there isn’t any to be found they go and create some. Even at their friends’ expense.

I’ve been engaged for less than a month now, and already people are trying to turn this wedding into some kind of Bridezilla blowup. We haven’t set a date for our jaunt down the aisle just yet, let alone ask people to be in the wedding. All we know is that we want a small-ish event since we’ll be footing the bill ourselves, and because we’re both really low-key people.

Before the “Yes, I’ll marry you” was completely out of my mouth, the phone was ringing and our email inboxes were full.

Somebody please tell me how it’s okay to email someone and ask that you allow them to be your maid of honor or best man. I’ve gotten 5 different requests from people that all begin something like this:

“…Tasha, congratulations on getting engaged. I can’t wait to see you two as an old married couple. I forgot your fiancé’s name, I’ll have to look at fac.e.bo.ok again, but he’s cute. You’re cute too, and I think the wedding will be great! I want to help you plan it!! I have one question, do you think I could be your maid of honor? We’ve known each other since 1985, so that would be hot to have an old friend in your ceremony. You know, something old something new something borrowed and something blue. Just let me know…”

Poor D has gotten similar emails, just altered to fit the request to be a best man. What.the.piss? You don’t go around soliciting maid of honor and best man invites. Damn. We know who we’re going to ask to be in those positions already (and have known for years, but we just haven’t asked yet), so please stop!

When I turned these people down via phone and via email, a few decided to bad mouth us and say they were going to boycott the wedding. Ummm, fine with us…less $$ for us to pay on your plate at the reception! Seriously though, people are trying to turn this into the W.WE main event. Name calling, sending us almost threatning letters and emails. Calling my mama and telling her that I’m a bad daughter. My lawd, what the hell is wrong with folk? Damn, can we get a month to enjoy being engaged before we get to wedding planning?? My goodness, we’re not trying to rush this whole process. Shotgun wedding this is not.

Oh and, we don’t need your help planning, cousin Kyren, thanks. Please don’t be offended when we turn your offer down. Honey, we saw what you did to your cousin’s graduation party, and we would be devastated if the same thing happened to us. Don’t bring D’s mama into this. Just don’t take it there, cuz I will get Bridezilla only if I’m forced into it, and I really don’t enjoy being mean.

Can we just keep this drama free?