For Sale
I let people talk down to me because that is how I know love.
I let myself be used because that is how I know love.
I know love in means of degradation and objectivity.
I say that I deserve better and that I will not be the victim of such things,
but that is where I am drawn.
Spit on me and I will think that the clouds have opened up to send their rains to cleanse me.
Trample me with your harsh words and I will think that I did something wrong.
Be sweet and you will confuse me and stir resentment,
but I thought you loved me?
And I will complain that you hurt me, but it is that hurt that sustains me.
I will cry, but those tear stains will be like medals hung around my neck.
The long nights spent alone, badges adorning my chest
and those times where I can push you to make me feel my worst,
those are my trophies that I sit in my room, littering the walls with my victorious defeat.
And all the while something in me questions
and as soon as I see my get away, I make myself trip
back into the world of make believe, bruised egos, and broken hearts.
I do it to myself, a sick masochist wanting nothing more than to feel
and I only know love in backs turned,
in mean words,
in broken promises,
in second chances that turn to thirds.
Demean me and I will fall for you.
Hurt me and I will love you until the day turns old.
Slander my name and I will never leave you.
Reject me and I will come back for more
Make me cry and you will hold my delicate heart in your hands.
I know love in nothing more than depravity and desolation.
Make me wonder my worth and then I will know that I am loved.
That is all I want.
Love me. No, no debase me.
That is the only way I will know.
My friend told me that it takes 21 days to break a habit. It made me wonder then how long it takes to form one. To quit things cold turkey... doesn't really go well. My friend brought it to my attention that people, we, I need to figure out how things affect us and our lives. As we get older we feel the need to carry our burdens alone and keep things to ourselves when in reality our issues only grow with age and the passing days.
If that is true then soon even the weight of the world will seem like nothing.
People walk around every day and others judge them. I judge them. We are disappointed with angry people with scowls on their faces who are rude and seem to have little consideration for others. How hard it must be for the person who is always smiling on the outside, but cry on the inside. The people with the scowls are just being real with the reality that surrounds them. The cheerful person is special and rare. Smile back.
Such a complicated thing man is. Higher reasoning. Critical thinking. Expressed emotions. Repressed memories and thoughts. None of these things ever have to settle on the visage or pass the lips that hold them. One can never really know what another fellow human is thinking even when they speak. Tricky we are. Complicated and deep. Even those lacking intellectually have a river of emotions swirling through them and thoughts that are all their own.
I had a professor tell me once that if you can't speak it, you don't know it. I'm not sure if I can take that for what it is. Feelings can not always be expressed as they are too overwhelming and too personal for words to shape to bring them into the light of perception, especially by another. Some things are also better left unarticulated. Some things should be kept. Some things are also better left unknown. So if I can speak it, maybe it is better left as a feeling, something unknown, something not meant for the tangible world and my physical senses.
I've heard that ignorance is bliss.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Twilight
So lately I have been dreaming. Like won't stop every night there is a new dream dream. Sometimes I am dreaming twice a night. It started this Sunday. I was on the bus back from NYC and all of a sudden I had this dream. It wasn't a nice dream. That's the other funny thing about these dreams, they are not nightmares, but they are not pleasant dreams. Something is always not right in them. And they feel entirely too real. I wake up with a tightness in my chest because there is always something to raise my anxiety levels in these dreams.
So my dream on the bus on Sunday was simple. It was about real life things. I dreamt that I was on the phone talking to 647 and that at first everything was fine, sort of. It was like before if that makes sense. We were sitting there talking and then 647 mentioned that there was so much to tell me to fill me in on and what not and once those words were spoken I had this overwhelming feeling of what did I do and oh my God I'm talking to 647. Why did I do that. It was like being pulled into a black hole. I ended up hanging up the phone like a crazy person and these texts were flowing in filling me in on 647's life and it was like I opened up Pandora's box. The feeling I had was so strong and I woke up thinking what had I done and I couldn't believe that I was talking to her. The feeling lingered for too long, but I finally realized that it was only a dream.
I blame the reminders and the playlist I was listening to on the bus. The bus was weird all together. It was headed for Toronto. There were too many Canadians on it and I decided to play things like Florence + The Machine, Stateless, and Ingrid Michaelson. Not something to fall asleep to especially when you have gone the whole weekend nearly to the border of sleep deprivation.
Now I fell asleep later that day, but in a bed and the dream was crazy weird. I was in a car with two other people, one of them my best friend, but I couldn't tell you who it was and we were driving, roadtripping it to who knows where and all of a sudden there are things floating in the air. The craziest thing about these things is that they all belong in Dr. Seuss books. I am so excited in the car and manage to convince the driver to turn around and follow these things and we wind up at this big crazy lopsided house. It is the house from The Cat in The Hat, except it really isn't, but in my dream it was. The house is definitely one from a Dr. Seuss book and the inside, yes we go inside and there are people inside when we go. Two children upwards to ten or twelve and parents. The parents were the parents from Malcolm in the Middle. Weird I know.
All I know is that I end up getting lost in the house and there is another person from the car in the house with me too, but they manage to get out and I am stuck in this awful house and I had found the way out once, but now I can't manage and I am thinking in the dream to think about the book which in real life isn't really how the book goes and so I know that to go out I must act like I am going in, like it is an opposite house. I go up these crazy stairs that are circular and winding, but they don't go anywhere and I end up falling off them and not hurting myself somehow, but in the process I manage to uncurl the stairs and can't get them to go proper again. I am running around this house, trying not to get caught, thinking of reasons to be in the house if I do and taking in all the weird things in the house. Not to mention, nearly everything is orange.
I find myself on the stairs again, but this time I am above the parents room and yes apparently it was a bad time because they decided that they would like to have relations as their children were gone and they didn't know about me. Crazy thing is that although the mom had all the proper orifices, she had an additional one in the middle of her thigh and that was the one used for pleasure.
Then I woke up. Such a weird dream. I never made it out of that house. Just got grossed out,
Last night I dreamt and I dreamt a movie dream. There was a house full of orphans. I wasn't in this dream though, I was just watching it like I was really watching a movie. So this dream is unfolding, I can't remember all the details, but the girls don't like this one girl Rosalie or Rosaline is her name and the house is haunted with these nasty spirits of girls and they want to hurt one of the girls, hurt meaning kill. Rosalie seems so innocent and no one suspects her, not me the dream viewer or the headmasters and not all the girls do either, they just don't like her. I don't know, all this stuff goes on where the ghosts mess with the girls in the house and in the end this big huge fire erupts and teachers and girls are going back into the fire looking for people and they end up on balconies on the sides of the house where the fire has managed to not penetrate and the ghosts are talking through the fire and the fire is huge because the ghosts are pissed and they keep jumping forward, the flames leaping at the girls and the teachers in the front of the house and on the balconies. Rosalie walks up to the front doors and the fire/ghost tries to get her and she has this evil little smile on and it clicks in everyone's head that she is the reason for all this and that innocent people are going to die because of her selfishness. The people on the balconies become engulfed in the flame and die while the ghost screams at Rosalie as she stands there defiantly and tells her that this should be her and how she should have never escaped and she tells everyone who can hear how evil the child is and to stay away from her.
It was more intense in my dream because in my head it made more sense. After the yelling, I woke up, but I felt tight in the chest again because of the presence of evil and the anger of the spirits. It felt dangerous and so real. I can still see Rosalie cute as a button, evil as hell.
So yeah. Those are my dreams. I'm not really looking forward to any more. I like it better when I was so damned tired that I couldn't dream. That's the best sleep when you close your eyes and open them to discover you have been sleeping for 6 hours when honestly it feels like you blinked.
I'm ready for that easy sleep again. I just need my brain to shut off.
So my dream on the bus on Sunday was simple. It was about real life things. I dreamt that I was on the phone talking to 647 and that at first everything was fine, sort of. It was like before if that makes sense. We were sitting there talking and then 647 mentioned that there was so much to tell me to fill me in on and what not and once those words were spoken I had this overwhelming feeling of what did I do and oh my God I'm talking to 647. Why did I do that. It was like being pulled into a black hole. I ended up hanging up the phone like a crazy person and these texts were flowing in filling me in on 647's life and it was like I opened up Pandora's box. The feeling I had was so strong and I woke up thinking what had I done and I couldn't believe that I was talking to her. The feeling lingered for too long, but I finally realized that it was only a dream.
I blame the reminders and the playlist I was listening to on the bus. The bus was weird all together. It was headed for Toronto. There were too many Canadians on it and I decided to play things like Florence + The Machine, Stateless, and Ingrid Michaelson. Not something to fall asleep to especially when you have gone the whole weekend nearly to the border of sleep deprivation.
Now I fell asleep later that day, but in a bed and the dream was crazy weird. I was in a car with two other people, one of them my best friend, but I couldn't tell you who it was and we were driving, roadtripping it to who knows where and all of a sudden there are things floating in the air. The craziest thing about these things is that they all belong in Dr. Seuss books. I am so excited in the car and manage to convince the driver to turn around and follow these things and we wind up at this big crazy lopsided house. It is the house from The Cat in The Hat, except it really isn't, but in my dream it was. The house is definitely one from a Dr. Seuss book and the inside, yes we go inside and there are people inside when we go. Two children upwards to ten or twelve and parents. The parents were the parents from Malcolm in the Middle. Weird I know.
All I know is that I end up getting lost in the house and there is another person from the car in the house with me too, but they manage to get out and I am stuck in this awful house and I had found the way out once, but now I can't manage and I am thinking in the dream to think about the book which in real life isn't really how the book goes and so I know that to go out I must act like I am going in, like it is an opposite house. I go up these crazy stairs that are circular and winding, but they don't go anywhere and I end up falling off them and not hurting myself somehow, but in the process I manage to uncurl the stairs and can't get them to go proper again. I am running around this house, trying not to get caught, thinking of reasons to be in the house if I do and taking in all the weird things in the house. Not to mention, nearly everything is orange.
I find myself on the stairs again, but this time I am above the parents room and yes apparently it was a bad time because they decided that they would like to have relations as their children were gone and they didn't know about me. Crazy thing is that although the mom had all the proper orifices, she had an additional one in the middle of her thigh and that was the one used for pleasure.
Then I woke up. Such a weird dream. I never made it out of that house. Just got grossed out,
Last night I dreamt and I dreamt a movie dream. There was a house full of orphans. I wasn't in this dream though, I was just watching it like I was really watching a movie. So this dream is unfolding, I can't remember all the details, but the girls don't like this one girl Rosalie or Rosaline is her name and the house is haunted with these nasty spirits of girls and they want to hurt one of the girls, hurt meaning kill. Rosalie seems so innocent and no one suspects her, not me the dream viewer or the headmasters and not all the girls do either, they just don't like her. I don't know, all this stuff goes on where the ghosts mess with the girls in the house and in the end this big huge fire erupts and teachers and girls are going back into the fire looking for people and they end up on balconies on the sides of the house where the fire has managed to not penetrate and the ghosts are talking through the fire and the fire is huge because the ghosts are pissed and they keep jumping forward, the flames leaping at the girls and the teachers in the front of the house and on the balconies. Rosalie walks up to the front doors and the fire/ghost tries to get her and she has this evil little smile on and it clicks in everyone's head that she is the reason for all this and that innocent people are going to die because of her selfishness. The people on the balconies become engulfed in the flame and die while the ghost screams at Rosalie as she stands there defiantly and tells her that this should be her and how she should have never escaped and she tells everyone who can hear how evil the child is and to stay away from her.
It was more intense in my dream because in my head it made more sense. After the yelling, I woke up, but I felt tight in the chest again because of the presence of evil and the anger of the spirits. It felt dangerous and so real. I can still see Rosalie cute as a button, evil as hell.
So yeah. Those are my dreams. I'm not really looking forward to any more. I like it better when I was so damned tired that I couldn't dream. That's the best sleep when you close your eyes and open them to discover you have been sleeping for 6 hours when honestly it feels like you blinked.
I'm ready for that easy sleep again. I just need my brain to shut off.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Favorite
Have you ever been in a state where every song it seems that comes on the radio, not only do you relate to it, but it sounds like slit your wrists and cry over the bathtub music? No matter where you turn, internet radio, regular radio, random shuffle of your own personal playlist, other people's playlists and then the cat is being super nice to you like you think you are going to die the cat is being that nice to you nice?
Well that place is real and I am wading through it. I am no longer over my head in it or even knee deep, but my ankles feel like they are in the quicksand part of it and so although I am feeling as if I am weaning myself off of the nasty, I am still stuck, even if only a portion of me, that portion keeps me from moving forward and that has to be the most frustrating part about it.
I just want to take a few steps and not have to worry about music, whether in movies or in my house, haunting me. Damn human emotions and connections. We need to be vastly more unique than we are.
So this weekend, a mess. Clearly as my one friend put it, hand me a bit of alcohol and watch the ride. I actually don't believe that and it actually hurt my feelings a lot since I consume quite a bit of alcohol (no worries I don't attend any meetings) and my rough ups happen to be few and far in between. I think I'm not doing that badly for myself. She would disagree.
I have another hole in my body bringing the number to a whopping you'll have to find out from personal experience. I put another hole in my face though, not something that I condone seeing that I am American and Americans don't particularly care for temple expression. My temple, my expression. That's what I say. My culture doesn't agree.
I still am a firm believer that getting older sucks. I am also a firm believer that sometimes people are not as they appear. How is it that you can be so nice to a person, they smile at you in your face and act as if they are genuine and when all is said and done, at the end of the day they are nasty pleather. Faker than fake. They are the hardest to pick out. Only talking behind your back and unless you have good friends or they slip up, you'll never know. Sounds as if I need a cleansing in my life.
And people wonder why it takes so much to really get in. I can't turn off my expression, but I can limit it and edit it much more effectively, because this right now is placing me in vulnerable states to where songs are messing me up and I am taking things much too personal. Even though I believe everyone has good in them, that doesn't mean that they know how to use it.
And what the hell? Nicest Thing? Kate Nash? Really? Should have never thumbs upped it.
Some people are nasty for nasty's sake. Purge yourself of it. It will only bring nasty into your life because the sweetness will want to run away from you or will only get run over by you and turn nasty too. And stop making things up! Isn't real life not interesting enough? And if not then go out and do something or hell, turn on the Kardashians. You see that mess? There are plenty of places to get your fix without screwing up the details of my existence. Let me alone. More suggestions just in case you get bored and decide that my not-doing-anything-to-you-but-minding-my-own-business-self is a good name to have in your mouth.
1. Bad Girls Club---- examples of who not to be and what not to do, but entertainment nonetheless
2. Friendzone----people embarrass themselves here too, but sometimes you get the lucky one who gets love
3. Housewives of Atlanta, Jersey, NY, wherever--- those women are something else
4. Basketball Wives (either will do)----- they have enough drama to distract you from me- don't they?
So if that isn't enough then maybe you should go for a walk, read a book, take up an instrument, or go do kickboxing or something because clearly you have some misdirected aggression of some sorts that needs some channelling. Just saying.
The Blow, True Affection is on repeat and Blinding by Florence + The Machine keeps ebbing at my insides.
Brain, if you don't want to work as well as other peoples and be super smart to provide me with a distraction, then I am just going to need you to do a complete shut off. Sickness and time away from the desk doesn't help either. Fever is making me loopy and the chill of the winter wind settling in is making my fingers numb and they keep threatening to shatter.
I think I have done enough complaining for one day.
Maybe.
Well that place is real and I am wading through it. I am no longer over my head in it or even knee deep, but my ankles feel like they are in the quicksand part of it and so although I am feeling as if I am weaning myself off of the nasty, I am still stuck, even if only a portion of me, that portion keeps me from moving forward and that has to be the most frustrating part about it.
I just want to take a few steps and not have to worry about music, whether in movies or in my house, haunting me. Damn human emotions and connections. We need to be vastly more unique than we are.
So this weekend, a mess. Clearly as my one friend put it, hand me a bit of alcohol and watch the ride. I actually don't believe that and it actually hurt my feelings a lot since I consume quite a bit of alcohol (no worries I don't attend any meetings) and my rough ups happen to be few and far in between. I think I'm not doing that badly for myself. She would disagree.
I have another hole in my body bringing the number to a whopping you'll have to find out from personal experience. I put another hole in my face though, not something that I condone seeing that I am American and Americans don't particularly care for temple expression. My temple, my expression. That's what I say. My culture doesn't agree.
I still am a firm believer that getting older sucks. I am also a firm believer that sometimes people are not as they appear. How is it that you can be so nice to a person, they smile at you in your face and act as if they are genuine and when all is said and done, at the end of the day they are nasty pleather. Faker than fake. They are the hardest to pick out. Only talking behind your back and unless you have good friends or they slip up, you'll never know. Sounds as if I need a cleansing in my life.
And people wonder why it takes so much to really get in. I can't turn off my expression, but I can limit it and edit it much more effectively, because this right now is placing me in vulnerable states to where songs are messing me up and I am taking things much too personal. Even though I believe everyone has good in them, that doesn't mean that they know how to use it.
And what the hell? Nicest Thing? Kate Nash? Really? Should have never thumbs upped it.
Some people are nasty for nasty's sake. Purge yourself of it. It will only bring nasty into your life because the sweetness will want to run away from you or will only get run over by you and turn nasty too. And stop making things up! Isn't real life not interesting enough? And if not then go out and do something or hell, turn on the Kardashians. You see that mess? There are plenty of places to get your fix without screwing up the details of my existence. Let me alone. More suggestions just in case you get bored and decide that my not-doing-anything-to-you-but-minding-my-own-business-self is a good name to have in your mouth.
1. Bad Girls Club---- examples of who not to be and what not to do, but entertainment nonetheless
2. Friendzone----people embarrass themselves here too, but sometimes you get the lucky one who gets love
3. Housewives of Atlanta, Jersey, NY, wherever--- those women are something else
4. Basketball Wives (either will do)----- they have enough drama to distract you from me- don't they?
So if that isn't enough then maybe you should go for a walk, read a book, take up an instrument, or go do kickboxing or something because clearly you have some misdirected aggression of some sorts that needs some channelling. Just saying.
The Blow, True Affection is on repeat and Blinding by Florence + The Machine keeps ebbing at my insides.
Brain, if you don't want to work as well as other peoples and be super smart to provide me with a distraction, then I am just going to need you to do a complete shut off. Sickness and time away from the desk doesn't help either. Fever is making me loopy and the chill of the winter wind settling in is making my fingers numb and they keep threatening to shatter.
I think I have done enough complaining for one day.
Maybe.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Classical Music
Usually I am really hyped for my birthday. This year, not so much. I don't know if it was my mood that brought everything else, but this year just wasn't like the rest. Even though I had time off from work and should have been all no stressed and relaxed, the day was just weird and like my mother has always said, I began to realize that birthdays, especially mine, especially now that I am older, are just another day.
The day before my birthday I was going for a run and my brother and mother were getting ready to leave the house. My brother thought it would be a good idea to pick his nose and wipe it on me. It wasn't. So I ran as that was what I was going to do anyways. The problem was when I got to the gate in the driveway. It is a funny bugger that you have to push just right or it won't open and I didn't push it just right and so I knocked my phone out of my hand and the case snapped off, the backing snapped off, and my battery fell somewhere. Everything was scattered in pieces and it just so happened that the bulk of my phone that front part now void of a case, a back, or a battery managed to fall directly into a puddle. Worst part about the entire situation is that I was being entirely dramatic, because by the time I crossed over the threshold of the sliding glass door, my brother was no longer trying to attempt to wipe boogers on me.
So my phone. I didn't think it was so bad, I wiped it out. I had to come inside for that and as I walk in whining about how I dropped my phone into a puddle and how it may be ruined, my brother proceeds to take his booger finger and wipe it across the front of my top. Gross. I now also have a pink spot instead of red and white cross hatchings, so I can never take my phone in and say fix it without them thinking it has water damage, except I now think it may actually have water damage. I didn't think much water got into my phone so after wiping it down, I put the battery back in and it turned on and my music played still, so I went on my run.
As I take out my headphones when the run is done and try to listen to my music while I shower, the phone is acting all sorts of crazy. I take my shower, figuring it will correct itself. It didn't. I take out the battery when I've finished and there is a puddle IN my phone! Ugh!! Damn you water!! Where did you come from. So the entire time that I am getting dressed, I have my phone apart. Case, back, battery. They can not be friends right now. I attempt to make them get along a few other times over the next two hours, but it is not until nearly twelve that I get her to really work, the only thing is that every time before the and still now you can see condensation collect at the bottom inside of the screen. There is a cloud in my phone. A misty cloud. What the hell. Hate you brother and boogers and dramatic self. I swear I need to channel that energy into something creative. Like scrapbooking or something tedious like that. Then I won't have time for dramatics.
Well fine, the phone works. I am feeling all bummy and basically I have been being nothing but a brat for the past two days. Yes, I admit it, but that all changes when I turn on my car on my way to lunch or work or something, wherever I am going and I am listening to the radio since my phone is acting all haywire funny and it is on the classical radio station because I need some relaxation in my life and so they say call in and win tickets!! So I call in and WIN! I never win anything, but I didn't have to know anything and I got through on the first ring. I think that either no one wanted the tickets, that or no one was listening. Regardless I win and invite my dad to come with me.
As the night should first start out, I thought this was a huge mistake as sometimes my father and I butt heads in a way that you should only see being filmed on hilltops for the discovery channel, that or your local zoo. Things got progressively better though and we managed to make quite a night out of it. The artists were absolutely amazing and captivating. I felt like I was in my own personal concert hall enjoying a night of sweet dreams and relaxation. It is amazing the effect classical music can have on the soul. It is so refreshing and riveting. The connections that are made with the notes and the tone and the rhythm of the music prove your existence and keep you hungry and striving for more. The arts are liberating to say the least and encourage thought and affect to penetrate into every day routines.
That though is not the point of this as I find myself on a tangent. That night my father and I were worried about being dressed appropriately and when we arrived we realized that it was not that type of affair. We were also worried about being on time. Again, not that serious. So we are talking and I look around the room and make a simple observation. I tell my father that we, he and I, are the only colored people in the room. He quips back to me, "Colored? I'm black! I don't know what you are, but I'm black." Thanks dad.
He himself then looks around the room and makes a comment that all white people are beginning to look the same to him. This comment catches me off guard and as I chuckle, the first thing out of my mouth is, "Like asian people?" My father doesn't miss a beat proclaiming through his laughter that they are, "Amazing." He continues with this by saying that at his school there are ten asian students and ten has gone down to five. A student approached him and asked him for something, he gave it to him ranting a bit, probably caught up in the chaos that a classroom can present. A few short minutes later another student approaches and asks my father of something. At this point he is a bit irate and concerned exclaiming, "Weren't you just up here?!" It was another asian student. He then goes on to say how he asked two of the students if they were related. They informed him that other than school, they didn't know one another. My father was flabbergasted. As I am sitting in the concert hall laughing uncontrollably, I now realize what my father meant at they are amazing. He meant it is amazing how they resemble one another. Again, going off the top of my head, I immediately thought that he had been talking about their amazing abilities in math and science.
We were in a fit. We also realized how out of control and stereotypical we sounded and let me be the first to say, it is very unlike us, I think we were just caught up in the moment and I was tired. Lack of sleep can make a person do a lot of uncharacteristic things.
Even though I knew the happenings were out of control, I shared them at my birthday dinner last night. Everyone thought it was funny and out of control, but it was funny to see how stereotypes have such an impression and are so ingrained on our way of thinking sometimes. Needless to say it was wrong. Later that night my best friend and I are talking in the car about this indecent proposal that has come my way. It seems that people really enjoy giving those to me. I wonder sometimes if it says right across my forehead- " I DON'T RESPECT MYSELF. YOU SHOULDN'T EITHER!" Just wondering. But whatever, we are talking about the situation and my friend is saying how this individual talked to me, that shows no respect, she can't believe it, it makes it seem like he doesn't view me as a person, but just a play thing, his play thing and so as incredulous as it is, she manages to one up the situation-nearly- by saying I'm a person and you don't talk to people like that, you talk to hookers (pronounced hook-ahs) like that. She sat there with a sad face while I got a little quizzical and cocked my head.
This is when I had to break the bad news to her. "Hookers are people too."
This was just too much for us and we realized, that stereotypes are everywhere. She was no better than my father and I at the concert. So just remember, everyone thinks that way some time or another whether it be about gender, race, ethnicity, profession, age, whatever. My only thing that makes it halfway ok is 1. if you know it is wrong, that makes it halfway ok, and 2. if you make it funny. Mean true things, not ok. Funny true things with only a hint of fun poking, halfway ok. So remember, know it's wrong and make it funny not mean.
So, sidebar I know, but I just realized, I didn't even get a cake this year. What the hell?! Now I understand why I have been all whiney and bratty. No cake? I always get a cake. The same cake every year since I was old enough to eat cake. My mom didn't make me a cake. The only reason why this really hurts is because she slaved over a cake for my step-dad all the night before his birthday was even here, she had it planned. I'm her kid. How come his birthday isn't just another day? How come he got cake? I feel half my age right now. And yes, I am pouting. I also think I am going to get a pint of ben and jerry's and eat it to my face.
Getting old sucks.
The day before my birthday I was going for a run and my brother and mother were getting ready to leave the house. My brother thought it would be a good idea to pick his nose and wipe it on me. It wasn't. So I ran as that was what I was going to do anyways. The problem was when I got to the gate in the driveway. It is a funny bugger that you have to push just right or it won't open and I didn't push it just right and so I knocked my phone out of my hand and the case snapped off, the backing snapped off, and my battery fell somewhere. Everything was scattered in pieces and it just so happened that the bulk of my phone that front part now void of a case, a back, or a battery managed to fall directly into a puddle. Worst part about the entire situation is that I was being entirely dramatic, because by the time I crossed over the threshold of the sliding glass door, my brother was no longer trying to attempt to wipe boogers on me.
So my phone. I didn't think it was so bad, I wiped it out. I had to come inside for that and as I walk in whining about how I dropped my phone into a puddle and how it may be ruined, my brother proceeds to take his booger finger and wipe it across the front of my top. Gross. I now also have a pink spot instead of red and white cross hatchings, so I can never take my phone in and say fix it without them thinking it has water damage, except I now think it may actually have water damage. I didn't think much water got into my phone so after wiping it down, I put the battery back in and it turned on and my music played still, so I went on my run.
As I take out my headphones when the run is done and try to listen to my music while I shower, the phone is acting all sorts of crazy. I take my shower, figuring it will correct itself. It didn't. I take out the battery when I've finished and there is a puddle IN my phone! Ugh!! Damn you water!! Where did you come from. So the entire time that I am getting dressed, I have my phone apart. Case, back, battery. They can not be friends right now. I attempt to make them get along a few other times over the next two hours, but it is not until nearly twelve that I get her to really work, the only thing is that every time before the and still now you can see condensation collect at the bottom inside of the screen. There is a cloud in my phone. A misty cloud. What the hell. Hate you brother and boogers and dramatic self. I swear I need to channel that energy into something creative. Like scrapbooking or something tedious like that. Then I won't have time for dramatics.
Well fine, the phone works. I am feeling all bummy and basically I have been being nothing but a brat for the past two days. Yes, I admit it, but that all changes when I turn on my car on my way to lunch or work or something, wherever I am going and I am listening to the radio since my phone is acting all haywire funny and it is on the classical radio station because I need some relaxation in my life and so they say call in and win tickets!! So I call in and WIN! I never win anything, but I didn't have to know anything and I got through on the first ring. I think that either no one wanted the tickets, that or no one was listening. Regardless I win and invite my dad to come with me.
As the night should first start out, I thought this was a huge mistake as sometimes my father and I butt heads in a way that you should only see being filmed on hilltops for the discovery channel, that or your local zoo. Things got progressively better though and we managed to make quite a night out of it. The artists were absolutely amazing and captivating. I felt like I was in my own personal concert hall enjoying a night of sweet dreams and relaxation. It is amazing the effect classical music can have on the soul. It is so refreshing and riveting. The connections that are made with the notes and the tone and the rhythm of the music prove your existence and keep you hungry and striving for more. The arts are liberating to say the least and encourage thought and affect to penetrate into every day routines.
That though is not the point of this as I find myself on a tangent. That night my father and I were worried about being dressed appropriately and when we arrived we realized that it was not that type of affair. We were also worried about being on time. Again, not that serious. So we are talking and I look around the room and make a simple observation. I tell my father that we, he and I, are the only colored people in the room. He quips back to me, "Colored? I'm black! I don't know what you are, but I'm black." Thanks dad.
He himself then looks around the room and makes a comment that all white people are beginning to look the same to him. This comment catches me off guard and as I chuckle, the first thing out of my mouth is, "Like asian people?" My father doesn't miss a beat proclaiming through his laughter that they are, "Amazing." He continues with this by saying that at his school there are ten asian students and ten has gone down to five. A student approached him and asked him for something, he gave it to him ranting a bit, probably caught up in the chaos that a classroom can present. A few short minutes later another student approaches and asks my father of something. At this point he is a bit irate and concerned exclaiming, "Weren't you just up here?!" It was another asian student. He then goes on to say how he asked two of the students if they were related. They informed him that other than school, they didn't know one another. My father was flabbergasted. As I am sitting in the concert hall laughing uncontrollably, I now realize what my father meant at they are amazing. He meant it is amazing how they resemble one another. Again, going off the top of my head, I immediately thought that he had been talking about their amazing abilities in math and science.
We were in a fit. We also realized how out of control and stereotypical we sounded and let me be the first to say, it is very unlike us, I think we were just caught up in the moment and I was tired. Lack of sleep can make a person do a lot of uncharacteristic things.
Even though I knew the happenings were out of control, I shared them at my birthday dinner last night. Everyone thought it was funny and out of control, but it was funny to see how stereotypes have such an impression and are so ingrained on our way of thinking sometimes. Needless to say it was wrong. Later that night my best friend and I are talking in the car about this indecent proposal that has come my way. It seems that people really enjoy giving those to me. I wonder sometimes if it says right across my forehead- " I DON'T RESPECT MYSELF. YOU SHOULDN'T EITHER!" Just wondering. But whatever, we are talking about the situation and my friend is saying how this individual talked to me, that shows no respect, she can't believe it, it makes it seem like he doesn't view me as a person, but just a play thing, his play thing and so as incredulous as it is, she manages to one up the situation-nearly- by saying I'm a person and you don't talk to people like that, you talk to hookers (pronounced hook-ahs) like that. She sat there with a sad face while I got a little quizzical and cocked my head.
This is when I had to break the bad news to her. "Hookers are people too."
This was just too much for us and we realized, that stereotypes are everywhere. She was no better than my father and I at the concert. So just remember, everyone thinks that way some time or another whether it be about gender, race, ethnicity, profession, age, whatever. My only thing that makes it halfway ok is 1. if you know it is wrong, that makes it halfway ok, and 2. if you make it funny. Mean true things, not ok. Funny true things with only a hint of fun poking, halfway ok. So remember, know it's wrong and make it funny not mean.
So, sidebar I know, but I just realized, I didn't even get a cake this year. What the hell?! Now I understand why I have been all whiney and bratty. No cake? I always get a cake. The same cake every year since I was old enough to eat cake. My mom didn't make me a cake. The only reason why this really hurts is because she slaved over a cake for my step-dad all the night before his birthday was even here, she had it planned. I'm her kid. How come his birthday isn't just another day? How come he got cake? I feel half my age right now. And yes, I am pouting. I also think I am going to get a pint of ben and jerry's and eat it to my face.
Getting old sucks.
The Price of Convenience
Mondays just shouldn't exist. Whoever invented them should be shot.
That is how I began to write last week about Mondays. Then Tuesday came and then Wednesday soon followed. Last week was literally the week from hell.
So Monday rolls around and as usual I am running a little behind. My car is parked on the street and during the time it took me to get ready, I checked on it about three times. Why check on my car you ask? Well they had been doing construction and I knew they would start again that morning as the wonderful sounds of screeching trucks replaced chirpy birds as my wake up call that morning. I also knew that because of this that it was more likely than not that they would be ticketing and that I was not interested in a ticket of any sort.
During the course of getting ready, I manage to check on my car two or three times. The final time, there is a ticket and so I figure at this point, why bother rushing any longer? I already have the ticket. Thankfully even though I was no longer in a rush, I was only five minutes away from walking out of the door as all I needed to do was brush my teeth.
Teeth brushed. Feeling clean. I don't check on my car again. Why would I need to? I walk out of my door and I walk out to a bare street. No car. My car is no longer there. Where the hell is my car? What the hell?! Seeing that I am always running behind, I need to be to work in five minutes and it will take me ten and now my car is gone!!! What the hell?! This is not the way to start off the week. Not at all. So my car has been ticketed and towed. Great.
So, I am freaking out, I see the guy down the street towing other cars and I am thinking oh how people must hate you tow truck man towing people's cars before ten. How does he sleep with himself at night? And why is it that plumbers and tow truck drivers never especially as stereotype would have it, and even from my limited experience with them, they are always unattractive with too big bellies and greased up hair and the crack that smiles back. Always with the crack hanging out daunting you, because this is the man who has taken you car away and you can't help but think about his personal hygiene and how disgusting that crack must be on the inside. How is it that not only do you have misfortune to have your car towed, but then it must also be by a Nasty McNast? Why is the tow truck driver never some hot guy or smoking chick? Pretty people can tow cars too. Can't they?
Nonetheless, I go up to my grease ball tow man and I feel bad talking poorly about him, because as my memory serves me, he was quite nice to me. He informed me that my car was not really towed, but that it was just around the corner. The story I told work, aka I did not go, was much better. That story had me running around, stuck at a friend's house, calling downtown for my car that they claimed to not have and then eventually I found out that it was around the corner, but honestly, if that man had not been out there towing other cars around the corner, then I would have gone through all those things. Instead, I went to the local convenience store, made a purchase walked outside, called my coworker and told him my story, minus the locating of the missing vehicle part and then proceeded to drive home.
I should have gone to work. That day was entirely unproductive. I didn't even nap. Television just mesmerized me. Stupid mush machine.
So Tuesday comes. I'm not thinking anything. I'm home. Haven't left since I got there the day after retrieving my car from around the corner. So I need to pick some things up from work before I make the commute that I hate to Niagara Falls. I make it to our Buffalo site and I'm late as usual, basically I won't be making it to Niagara Falls until closer to ten. I am supposed to be there around 8:30/9:00 a.m. How I'm not fired, I'm not quite sure, but am grateful for the confusion. Anyways. As I am leaving the Buffalo office and hop on the express way, all of a sudden I hear this noise that sounds like trouble and money falling out of my pocket into someone else's. So I drive to the nearest gas station and see that yes I do have a flat tire. God! Really? Again all before ten. What is happening? What am I being punished for? I don't even think I really did it!! You've got the wrong person!! '
As I try to put air in my tire, I realize that it is not only flat, but just ripped. The tire is old and worn like the elastic in a 5 year old pair of panties that happen to not only be aged, but your favorite as well. The tire is done. Really done. I am nearly in tears. Here we go. Luckily, I stopped at a gas station that was also a garage so I was able to get my tire fixed, but I know that this is going to cost me and now I am stranded. I want to go home and so I call my coworker. Instead of going home though, I figure that it is important for me to go to work and get some work done. I hate work. I hate that this is day two of car shenanigans. My car is not supposed to participate in shenans, just simply be witness to them. She is disappointing me.
So there is an even that we have to go to that day anyways and so my coworker drives us. Thank God that I didn't have to stay in the office. The day got even better when I gorged myself on this pizza that tasted like it was delivered straight from heaven. Yum. So the day is going better, until we leave of course. The battery life on my phone sucks and since I was on it all morning making phone calls and trying to play games to pass my time in the cold waiting for my ride, the battery is low. Luckily, there is an outlet relatively close to our table that we have. The unlucky news is that we make it all the way out to the car before I realize that I have left it plugged in. Genius.
I run back up the stairs, not even five minutes has passed and when I go to retrieve my buddy, my life, no where to be found. What the hell?! Not again. This happened to me once in London and by the grace of God, I managed to find it sitting on the railing of our apartments after it had rained and been sitting there for something like 2-3 days. That was seriously a blessing, but this, we are on a inner city college campus and if I saw a phone, well, no I wouldn't. That is just rude. People have everything in their phones. I'd turn it in. Whatever. I come downstairs and again frantically check my bag and the work bag for my missing phone. No dice. I tell my coworker to just take me home. We get two exits away from my house and there is a call. They found my phone!! Yay!!!
People, stop moving my things just around the corner! I am never going to look for them there. A lady saw my coworker leave our table and got nervous about my phone and handed it in to the directors of the event. Thank you for being so conscientious, but next time, just don't touch it! I will remember eventually.
So great. I am stuck at home again and because my car is at the shop, I have to leave when my mother leaves to get it. She leaves the house when I am just waking up. Not impressed with the way that things are going so far, but I manage and so I pay the people at the shop, he gives me a really good tire with a lifetime warranty- God knows I need it and so I am thinking good. Things are going to get better, but at the same time, I am thinking what is going to happen today. Monday and Tuesday were shit, what does Wednesday have in store?
I jinxed myself. I managed to get to work, get through the day, but the moment that I got into my car to go home that is when the trouble started. I thought it was all a joke. Nothing could possible go wrong three days in a row. Oh how I was mistaken. I didn't even go half a block, I was only able to make it out of the parking lot and past the first corner just before the expressway, my ticket home before my car started cussing me because of the monster under the hood eating away at her parts. I swear it was like the metal eating version of cookie monster going to town on the insides of my baby.
I am stuck on the side of the road in a high traffic area, five old men have come and tried to look at my car, my mother wants to leave me stranded and I am supposed to pick someone up from the airport in half an hour. I just don't' have time for this. I really really don't. So my mother comes, she is a bit cranky, I blame the school children she has to tame from 8:30-3 Mon-Fri. It is a thankless job. So she ends up leaving me in the end because this time my car is being towed, on purpose, and they need someone there when the tow truck comes to sign for the charges or whatever nonsense.
I am sitting in my car twiddling my thumbs, when a good friend calls, hears my situation, scoops me, takes me to the airport, drives both of us back to her place where we get a call from the tow driver about where am I, how long and he needs to take my car. Really? I know you do. She can't move on her own. So we throw stuff in her car and speed over to my baby and the guy isn't even done yet. So I sign my car away and realize that I am once again for the second time this week without a car. And it is only Wednesday. Oh the joys of car ownership.
The next day I took a personal mental health day. It was either that or kill myself. I decided sleeping in was better than sleeping forever.
That is how I began to write last week about Mondays. Then Tuesday came and then Wednesday soon followed. Last week was literally the week from hell.
So Monday rolls around and as usual I am running a little behind. My car is parked on the street and during the time it took me to get ready, I checked on it about three times. Why check on my car you ask? Well they had been doing construction and I knew they would start again that morning as the wonderful sounds of screeching trucks replaced chirpy birds as my wake up call that morning. I also knew that because of this that it was more likely than not that they would be ticketing and that I was not interested in a ticket of any sort.
During the course of getting ready, I manage to check on my car two or three times. The final time, there is a ticket and so I figure at this point, why bother rushing any longer? I already have the ticket. Thankfully even though I was no longer in a rush, I was only five minutes away from walking out of the door as all I needed to do was brush my teeth.
Teeth brushed. Feeling clean. I don't check on my car again. Why would I need to? I walk out of my door and I walk out to a bare street. No car. My car is no longer there. Where the hell is my car? What the hell?! Seeing that I am always running behind, I need to be to work in five minutes and it will take me ten and now my car is gone!!! What the hell?! This is not the way to start off the week. Not at all. So my car has been ticketed and towed. Great.
So, I am freaking out, I see the guy down the street towing other cars and I am thinking oh how people must hate you tow truck man towing people's cars before ten. How does he sleep with himself at night? And why is it that plumbers and tow truck drivers never especially as stereotype would have it, and even from my limited experience with them, they are always unattractive with too big bellies and greased up hair and the crack that smiles back. Always with the crack hanging out daunting you, because this is the man who has taken you car away and you can't help but think about his personal hygiene and how disgusting that crack must be on the inside. How is it that not only do you have misfortune to have your car towed, but then it must also be by a Nasty McNast? Why is the tow truck driver never some hot guy or smoking chick? Pretty people can tow cars too. Can't they?
Nonetheless, I go up to my grease ball tow man and I feel bad talking poorly about him, because as my memory serves me, he was quite nice to me. He informed me that my car was not really towed, but that it was just around the corner. The story I told work, aka I did not go, was much better. That story had me running around, stuck at a friend's house, calling downtown for my car that they claimed to not have and then eventually I found out that it was around the corner, but honestly, if that man had not been out there towing other cars around the corner, then I would have gone through all those things. Instead, I went to the local convenience store, made a purchase walked outside, called my coworker and told him my story, minus the locating of the missing vehicle part and then proceeded to drive home.
I should have gone to work. That day was entirely unproductive. I didn't even nap. Television just mesmerized me. Stupid mush machine.
So Tuesday comes. I'm not thinking anything. I'm home. Haven't left since I got there the day after retrieving my car from around the corner. So I need to pick some things up from work before I make the commute that I hate to Niagara Falls. I make it to our Buffalo site and I'm late as usual, basically I won't be making it to Niagara Falls until closer to ten. I am supposed to be there around 8:30/9:00 a.m. How I'm not fired, I'm not quite sure, but am grateful for the confusion. Anyways. As I am leaving the Buffalo office and hop on the express way, all of a sudden I hear this noise that sounds like trouble and money falling out of my pocket into someone else's. So I drive to the nearest gas station and see that yes I do have a flat tire. God! Really? Again all before ten. What is happening? What am I being punished for? I don't even think I really did it!! You've got the wrong person!! '
As I try to put air in my tire, I realize that it is not only flat, but just ripped. The tire is old and worn like the elastic in a 5 year old pair of panties that happen to not only be aged, but your favorite as well. The tire is done. Really done. I am nearly in tears. Here we go. Luckily, I stopped at a gas station that was also a garage so I was able to get my tire fixed, but I know that this is going to cost me and now I am stranded. I want to go home and so I call my coworker. Instead of going home though, I figure that it is important for me to go to work and get some work done. I hate work. I hate that this is day two of car shenanigans. My car is not supposed to participate in shenans, just simply be witness to them. She is disappointing me.
So there is an even that we have to go to that day anyways and so my coworker drives us. Thank God that I didn't have to stay in the office. The day got even better when I gorged myself on this pizza that tasted like it was delivered straight from heaven. Yum. So the day is going better, until we leave of course. The battery life on my phone sucks and since I was on it all morning making phone calls and trying to play games to pass my time in the cold waiting for my ride, the battery is low. Luckily, there is an outlet relatively close to our table that we have. The unlucky news is that we make it all the way out to the car before I realize that I have left it plugged in. Genius.
I run back up the stairs, not even five minutes has passed and when I go to retrieve my buddy, my life, no where to be found. What the hell?! Not again. This happened to me once in London and by the grace of God, I managed to find it sitting on the railing of our apartments after it had rained and been sitting there for something like 2-3 days. That was seriously a blessing, but this, we are on a inner city college campus and if I saw a phone, well, no I wouldn't. That is just rude. People have everything in their phones. I'd turn it in. Whatever. I come downstairs and again frantically check my bag and the work bag for my missing phone. No dice. I tell my coworker to just take me home. We get two exits away from my house and there is a call. They found my phone!! Yay!!!
People, stop moving my things just around the corner! I am never going to look for them there. A lady saw my coworker leave our table and got nervous about my phone and handed it in to the directors of the event. Thank you for being so conscientious, but next time, just don't touch it! I will remember eventually.
So great. I am stuck at home again and because my car is at the shop, I have to leave when my mother leaves to get it. She leaves the house when I am just waking up. Not impressed with the way that things are going so far, but I manage and so I pay the people at the shop, he gives me a really good tire with a lifetime warranty- God knows I need it and so I am thinking good. Things are going to get better, but at the same time, I am thinking what is going to happen today. Monday and Tuesday were shit, what does Wednesday have in store?
I jinxed myself. I managed to get to work, get through the day, but the moment that I got into my car to go home that is when the trouble started. I thought it was all a joke. Nothing could possible go wrong three days in a row. Oh how I was mistaken. I didn't even go half a block, I was only able to make it out of the parking lot and past the first corner just before the expressway, my ticket home before my car started cussing me because of the monster under the hood eating away at her parts. I swear it was like the metal eating version of cookie monster going to town on the insides of my baby.
I am stuck on the side of the road in a high traffic area, five old men have come and tried to look at my car, my mother wants to leave me stranded and I am supposed to pick someone up from the airport in half an hour. I just don't' have time for this. I really really don't. So my mother comes, she is a bit cranky, I blame the school children she has to tame from 8:30-3 Mon-Fri. It is a thankless job. So she ends up leaving me in the end because this time my car is being towed, on purpose, and they need someone there when the tow truck comes to sign for the charges or whatever nonsense.
I am sitting in my car twiddling my thumbs, when a good friend calls, hears my situation, scoops me, takes me to the airport, drives both of us back to her place where we get a call from the tow driver about where am I, how long and he needs to take my car. Really? I know you do. She can't move on her own. So we throw stuff in her car and speed over to my baby and the guy isn't even done yet. So I sign my car away and realize that I am once again for the second time this week without a car. And it is only Wednesday. Oh the joys of car ownership.
The next day I took a personal mental health day. It was either that or kill myself. I decided sleeping in was better than sleeping forever.
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