Played Out...

Okay, I have a running list of shit that I think is played out. Some of these things are things that I still like, things that I still want, and things that are perfectly exceptable. But often times I find myself discusssing certain shit and I just get totally annoyed like come on, that shit is played out. Here is 20 from my list, not my top 20, but 20...

1. Racism
2. Being gay
3. Chrysler 300's
4. Dodge Charger
5. Big butts
6. Ipods
7. Locks
8. Corn rows
9. Belts worn under your breast
10. Suicide bombers
11. Bluetooth ear pieces
12. Being a rapper
13. Fighting
14. Nike boots
15. Being bi-racial w/ long hair
16. Music videos w/ a bunch of girls in it
17. Sweatin' Beyonce
18. G.W. Bush
19. Being a Democrat or a fucking Republican
20. Smoking

Okay...that really got a lot off of my chest.

:)

Foggy Morning...

This morning as the train plowed thru the fog, I began chatting with a former grad student from my schoool. He made mention of finishing his PhD and asked about my thesis. Of course I cringe anytime anyone asks about my thesis, becuase it's just been a haunting force in my life lately. I finished my coursework a year and a half ago and have yet to complete my thesis. Why? Because I was burned out.

By the time I reached the end of my coursework I was working 40+ hours a week at a job that was suffering from poor manangement, poor ethics and poor morale. And need I say that I HATED my job! My social life was pretty pitiful, being as though, by that time I was interacting with folks for sheer entertainment, not knowing that I was being depleated by my poor choice in company. My friendships were wailing, suffering from miscommunication and mental seperation. My landlord was an attention seeking Cancer that mentally dueled me at any given moment, insulting my sexuality, my commen fucking sense and my at-home peace of mind. So with all of that going on, who the fuck could think about a 100 page document.

Now a year and a half later, the paper still haunts me. I need to graduate. Just for closure sakes.
And then I get an email this morning from an old class mate asking how I was and if I had finished my thesis. NO! Fucking NO, I'm not finished! I think people ask you, knowing damn well you didn't. Either way, I've brought closure to a few old demons this year, so if I can take this one out, I will be proud! Hmmm, proud. I like the way that sounds. I don't think that I've been proud of anything that I've done before. This would make a great start...

Men have it Good...

I sit here and wonder why men HAVE IT SO DAMN GOOD. From what I've seen, men serve women up anything that they want, but they don't take too much shit from ANY woman, besides their momma. The shit is disgusting. Men put women in all types of bullshit situations and women sit and ponder what to do, until he does the next thing, and the next thing, and the next damn thing.

And to me, it seems as though, the stronger you are, the more they try to prove that you're not so tough. And they wear at you and chip away at you, until you break. When I dated guys, it appeared as though they hated my independence and my simple demands of treat me the way you want to be treated. It almost like some men hate women. I really believe that some do. Otherwise, why would you be so disrespectful to women.

Men put women in situations that THEY wouldn't even tolerate. WHY?

And I hate to say it, but the problem seems to be WOMEN. We just take and deal with any fukking thing. And it doesn't matter how pretty you are, how nice your body is, how much you have to offer...men treat all of them like shit. And women just wait and wait for him to get himself together, when you should be getting yourself together because obviously somethings aint right!

And I can further attest to part of the problem being women, because I date them, and I hear the dumbest stories that I've ever heard of and watch people stand for nothing. Stories that would sound ten times worse if it were about a male-female relationship. Where do we draw the line...

So maybe the question is why don't women care more about themselves. We're so powerful, yet so weak...visonary, yet so blind...dumb, yet so fukkin STUPID.

I'm so upset...

Going out...

Tweety Bird and I often laugh and cringe at the fact that we don't really go out. And it's not because we just loooooove being in the house, up under each other. It's moreso because we just haven't found anywhere that's to our complete liking. Either way, this past Friday we decided to go and do the young adult thing and "GO OUT".

We had just woke up from a afternoon nap and I was like, "let's go out". To her amazement, she was like, "for real". Anyhoo, we called one of her friends and she stated that she was going to a DC "ladies night" spot. So we got dressed, and I tried my best not to look 30 and pretend that I'd had actually gone shopping for something other than work clothes in the last 6 months. Lol! So we went to Outback to eat, then off to DC.

After taking about 30 minutes of trying to find parking, we walked by a nice belligerent young black man, who proceded to taunt us and use profanity to lure us into some spot he was in front of. Whereas I brushed it off, Tweety Bird felt disrespected and compelled to do something about it. But off we walked, cause it was too damn cold to argue with a jackass.

At the door, the chick politely asked for $15 a piece, which is fucking outragous to me, because I know that there isn't anything in there worth 15 damn dollars! But inside I was relieved because the night's arrangement was for me to pay for dinner and her to pay for admission. I guess I beat cause dinner damn sure wasn't $30.

Anyway we met with her friend and posted on the wall, looking at the sights. Feeling totally out of touch, because there were SO many damn characters there. Now, I can completely understand why "straight" people come up with dumb assumptions and questions about "gay" people. I was in there, wantin' to ask a few dumb questions of my own, shit.

After 2 vodka and cranberrys with rail vodka, I was ready to go. So Tweety Bird popped the question:

Who would you talk to in here, if you were single?

The answer to both of our questions, resorted back to someone we had talked to before. Both picks were attractive and these were both people we'd never done anything with. And by the looks of the mini conversations that we individually had with both, they would have taken any propositions. Hmpf! We still got! Lol. And although the club was full of attractive females of all sorts, we knew that 98% of them were probably crazy. *sigh* The young lady I picked kept staring my way, to the point where Tweety noticed. I looked her way occasionally myself, nothing sexual, I just hadn't seen her in a while. And I'm sure fresh azz gazed at her unconquered territory too, just enough not to get the beat down from me.

Oh, how could I forget this part. Snoop from The Wire was there. Young ladies swoomed her way occasionally asking to take a pciture with her on their camera phones. It was funny. Tweety felt like PLEEZE, I guess because she knew of her before her HBO days. Whatever.


So in conclusion, going out reminded us that we're not missing anything on the club scene and that we need to be forever grateful that we're not single, considering the available stock.

Blu...

A young lady at my old job, politely circled the building asking if anyone wanted a free kitten. Me, a lonely, single, socially defected chic, who had previously killed 13 tropical fish that I tried to make my pet, decided that I would like a kitten.

I named her Blu...Blu Berry Moore to be exact.

I never had a cat before, only dogs. So Blu was somewhat of an experiment for me. Little did I know that I was being given a fukkin CRACK CAT.

THE BEGINNING

Blu was tiny day from day one and remained a tiny cat. So I often got questioned about whether or not I was feeding her or if she was a kitten. But little did they know, that this bitch wouldn't eat! It was like she was on some picky shit. I bought expensive shit, cheap shit and she didn't seem to like any of it. A day and a half would go by and her bowl would stay full. Hmpf, after a while, I was like "well BITCH don't eat then"!

Blu wasn't very fond of being picked up and had little problem with biting and scratching. One day at work in a meeting, the Director looked at my hands and asked me what was wrong with them. I never noticed that both of my hands were covered with dark marks from healed bites and scratches. They looked a little junky-like.

Blu also loved to break things. Throughout her stay she bit into the cords and therefore broke, 3 lamps, and an $80 iron. She also knocked down and broke various vases, glasses, candleholders, and flower pots.

THE CLIMAX

Oh, you thought we reached that already? Shiiiiiidddd, lol. One night as I lie peacefully in bed, I was awakened by this loud ass crashing noise. I woke up and in the dark all I could see was 2 glowing little eyes on top of my 8 foot wardobe. Delirious and enraged I walked towards the wardrobe only to find the floor covered with rocks and broken glass from a vase display that was ontop of the wardrobe. This demon apparently knocked it over...for fun. So that I don't incriminate, "someone" grabbed her with one hand and launched her ass from off of the wardrobeand threw her into the next room. All I heard was a MEOW and a loud thump as she hit the floor.

That loud thump was her hitting a wooden floor after being thrown about 15 feet. That touchdown costed me over $300 in vet bills as she recovered from a broken leg. Have you ever seen a cat in a splint?? Talk about not right? Priceless.

Occasionally I would come home and find Blu in mysterious circumstances. For example(s):

1. I came home and found her bound in a telephone cord. (You know, one of the 50ft ones, for those too cheap to buy a cordless? Yeah, that one) She was laying in the living room wrapped completely in the cord, so much so, that she couldn't even get up to walk. Now how she did this...I DO NOT KNOW. But the dummy wouldn't even let me cut it off of her and proceded to try to bite me evertime I came near her. I had to put on gloves to get it off her. Oh and she must have been pulling on the cord so hard, she broke the phone jack on the wall.


2. Then there was the time, after she had just gotten spade. She was obviously walking on the hanger rod in the coat closet and got tangled in the bag of a coat that I just bought. Either way, by the time I found her, she was lying there balancing herself on the closet rod, while a plastic bag was wrapped around her, to prevent her from getting down. The coats in the closet had spots on them and the closet smelled. Blu, obvious took a piss on my NEW coat and leaked who knows what on my other coats, because she obviously irritated the stitches that she had in her stomach. Unfortunately, it was coat that I had planned to return. So guess what went to the dry cleaners and back to Macy's! Ewwwww...I know, I know...trife!

3. She also like to climb in my underwear drawer (disgusting, right). Anyway she did that one morning without me noticing and I politely closed it and went to work. So guess who was trapped in a drawer for about 9 hours! I came home and saw a little paw hanging out of the drawer and busted out laughing!

4. There was also the time I was looking everywhere for her, just to find her behind the stove. I guess she had fallen.


MORE IGNORANCE...

5. There was the time I was eating some soup. Guess who came by and jumped in my lap, landing one paw in my bowl and splashing the remainder of my soup in my face and on my clothes!!!!

6. One time, I was doing what I do in my bed... and just as my other was about to do what she does....Blu came from nowhere and ran right over my chica's face and on her head. YO!!!! Talk about fukkin classic. I mean, what do you do when you're about to and a cat tramples all over you fukkin face and then runs out the room???


THEE END

You would think that I would have gotten rid of her a long time ago, but I didn't cause she was my experiment, right, and I wasn't going to quit!

Late last year, my asthma began flaring up. It was to the point where I couldn't even sleep cause I couldn't breathe. That night I had to drive all the way to my parent's house to use my dad's inhaler. I was like...somethings not right, my asthma was under control. So I went to the allergy and asthma dude. He did some tests. And he was like you're relly allergic to cats. I'm like, shit. I did a breathing test and he was like, you're only using 75% of your lungs. So I'm like I have a crazy cat, who is also KILLING me, literally. None of my friends wanted to adopt her cause they new about her track record. So I was then prescribed 3 different daily meds that I had to take everyday for forever, I guess.

About 3 years in, Blu was better, but not golden. She refused to let me sleep. At night she would climb under the bed and scratch scratch scratch or scratch at the door if the door was closed. To the point where I had to lock her up, under a crate (with weights on top) EVERY night. I knew Blu's clock was ticking, cause I got to the point where I just felt like there was nothing I could do to help her get right. I really that realized her clock was ticking when the bitch ran and jumped onto the screen in the window (like Spider Man), paused and jumped back off. Did I forget to tell you that we live on the FUKKIN 11th FLOOR?!!!!!

That day Tweety and I gasped as we saw the screen bow outwards towards the street. Silently wishing that the screen would give way. That's when I knew that it was about that time.

The final kicker was close to my birthday when I was walking along in the living room, minding my business and Blu decided to wrap herself around my leg, with her claws dug in, and bite me. Before I could snap out of shock and grab her she jumped off and ran. I had blood running down my leg from 4 different places.

So for my birthday, I decided to treat myself to a trip to the SPCA. Which is where I paid $25 to get rid of my precious pet. I felt bad, but liberated.

As I drove home, I sat and wondered why she acted that way from 6 weeks old to 3 years old. What had I done to deserve such torture? I really don't know.

I recently realized that I haven't missed her one day. I laugh at the memories now, but that shit wasn't all that funny then.

So this Blog is in memory of Blu...Blu Berry Moore to be exact.
I still love you...but I don't miss your ass, bee-otch!

Lol...I Love You Blu!!!

Strip Club...

Saturday wasn't all that I had dreamed of and by night fall it actually left me feeling drained and real looser like. Too blown and tired to go anywhere nice and too bored to stay in the house. So after watching a movie and sipping on a drizzink, I decided to go to the STRIP CLUB.

In theory, going to the strip club is a basic event. But in reality it was something else. There is a particularly decent strip club in Bmore, where the girls are pretty cute, bodies are decent and the place doesn't look like a hole in the wall. So that's where I decided to go. BUT because this place is pretty decent, there is "dike-ban" as I call it. Because once apon a time it was come one, come all, but because (in my opinion) sooo many women started coming there and taking over, they made up this great rule of how every woman has to be accompanied by a man.

Lesson for Today

Reasons why too many women isn't good for da club:

1. The men customers pay more attention to the
fully dressed women customers.

2. The strippers pay more attention to the women
customers.

3. Men get annoyed with lesbians, invading their
sacred spot.

All of the above is understood, but these truths made my little adventure really EXTRA. So after finding a great parking spot, I walks towards the club, looking for a male patron to tag along with to get in and then abandon as I cross the threshold. And moments later...WA-LA! I found 2 males and a female approaching the establishment. I'm like yes! I'm in. First dude shows ID and before my eyes, my lil' skripper dreams were ruined. Dude was obviously 12 years old, cause he couldn't get in and the remainder of his party turned around with him at the door. Leaving me without a guy to get in. Now, I had already belittled myself to ask complete strangers to let me walk with them to get in the club and I couldn't muster up the strength to do it again. So that was it for me, back to my car.

I left a little humilated. I felt like a little kid trying to get someone to buy me alcohol or to get into a Rated R movie. I was like DA FUKK, I'm a grown azz young woman. This is ridiculous! I looked at myself and I didn't feel too good. The scene was just so sad. All I wanted was a little scenary as I drank away my pain. But nooooooo...I have to be subjected to foolery. Now the question is, why can't I find a nice "lesbian" strip club to go to? Easy answer...THERE AREN'T ANY HERE!!!!!

As to why, that's another blog...

So, in conclusion, I spent my Saturday night drinking Coronas and eating salty chicken wings at a local bar. Watching as blacks and whites segregatedly attempt to share the same party space together. Booooooo...fukking.....boooooooooooooo...

Perception...

Perception is subjective. It bothers me. And perception isn't always the truth, which is another thing that makes it tricky. What you may percieve me to be, may be completely untrue. But it might as well be as good as gold to others cause they get the judgement ball and run like Jamal Lewis.

I like to think of myself as a chameleon. Because I tend to blend into my environment. I have little desire to present the real me to most of the world. So sure in a sense what I present is me, but it's not even half of the whole show. Sadly a lot of the things that people gather about me is a little...ummm not to my liking but, it is what it is. I have come to the conclusion that it is like a protective covering. That allows people to pick at one person, while you hold on safely to the real you. The you that isn't shatter proof.

Hmpf! I keep that me contained, like good china. Lol!
Why? Because the world is cold and people are careless with the things that are most precious in life. I occasionally let the head poke out, but it's seldom safe. I don't necessarily advise that this technique be used, but it's the only one I know. If I don't look out for the real me, who will...

I Love My Girlfriend...

Love, is so complicated. It's a great Litmus Test (Yeah, I took that back to high school Chemistry! Lol.) But it is. Because really loving someone means that you are willing to love through the good and the bad. And to be honest how much bad you're willing to deal with depends on how much you love YOURSELF, but that's another blog.

I believe in my soul that her and I were placed together for reasons far greater than we can concieve. I was meant to be in her life and she was meant to be in mine. I always felt that whomever you decide to share your life with, that person should help make you a better person. And I think that it's a naturally occuring process, you know on some you're the Yin to my Yang, sht.

Sometimes we feel as though our relationship was a prearranged marriage. And that we
just went along with the ceremony. And I hate to get corny, but it's like when you know, you know. So societal timelines, no longer apply. And of course judgement comes with that, but I wouldn't expect anyone to understand. Sht, I barely do!

It's like we were sent to each other to heal each others souls. To make up for each others shortcomings. I feel like we HAD to meet and experience each and bear our offerings. And even if a wall is reached on our earthly relationship, it's irrelevant because we've made footprints on each others hearts and souls.

I feel like she's my sister, my friend, my daughter, my teacher, my mother. I can't explain it. I feel so connected even when I don't want to be. It's like the more I learn about us, the more I learn about me. It's like I'm growing as an individual as we grow as a couple. Like someone squeezed 11 years into 11 months.

This blog isn't on some Romanticism, I didn't even cut that sht on yet, Lol, this is on some it is what it is sht. And actually, I really don't feel like gender is even involved here, it's just naked soul. Hmpf, I may have been her husband in another life (if you believe in that).

Anyway... I Love My Girlfriend...and words don't do it no justice.

Wolverine...

My TWEETY BIRD has an angah managemnt problem. For serious!!! She has the rage of a 1,000 horses. Me, because I'm retarded, I find it somewhat amusing that she can get SO worked up over the smallest things. So when she rants and raves, I usually sit there with the dick look, like hummm...interesting. And of course this makes her even more angry. Well I guess there is a pattern. She goes off and I think that she's not serious and then a little later after the bursting of 2 blood vessels I realize that she's serious.

And it really gets dumb when that anger is directed towards me. When she yells at me, it's like my ears start to close. And although she's yellin to get a reaction, it's doing the exact opposite. So sad. So sad.

Personally, a part of me thinks that it's some form of bipolarism. Then another part of me thinks that it's an adult version of a spoiled child. Sometimes, I expect her to turn GREEN and say "You wouldn't like me, when I'm angry".

It's like when she has an episode, she's hears nothing, sees nothing and feels nothing but her rage. I can honestly say that it completely consumes her. COMPLETELY. It's almost like she can't control it. It's like she physically transforms too, she even looks different. It's really like I don't know her.

The dumb funny part is, she says that I've never seen her really angry before. HA!!

And after she tucks away her X-Men suit, she's back to normal, laughing and joking, looking around like " Hey what's going on". What an ass.

I tell you, be careful what you ask for, you just might get it.
I prayed for me to find love and that shit came with an attitude!

Oh well...

Afraid to Fly…

For just about all of my life I have been a scaredy cat. Not in the most common sense, but in more subtle ways that only few would notice. My biggest fear is SUCESS. Yes, success. I don't recall giving most things even half of my best. And I haven't quite put my finger on the reason why. I'd like to think it's laziness, but according to my TWEEDY BIRD, she says that it's my momma. And I can see why cause, my mother never wanted me to really go anywhere special, do anything special, etc..

For example my mom wanted me to go to "trade school" for high school to learn a trade so that I would know who to do something and really wasn't all that impressed by me going to a college-preparatory high school and going to a university and graduating. To be honest, I really don't know what she wanted me to do, but I think that she was more focused on what she didn't want me doin'. Which is understandable considering my siblings' track records.

Pardoning the possible influence of my momma and getting back to me...I have declared myself in the past as a chronic underachiever. Maybe I just haven't found anything that I've wanted to dump my all into. I'm not sure what the hell it is, but as a result, this bird has been soaring the space between the ground and the tree tops, never knowing how it feels to touch the sky.

But maybe not for long...

More lesbian than you...

I tend to be the bigger lesbian between my girlfriend and I. And I guess I can attribute that to my ongoing fascination of the "culture". She's more like, I like what I like and as a result I do what I do. I on the other hand, I savor each moment, as entertaining, amusing, sensual, alluring, captivating, inviting, etc.. But that'e me. It's not all "ooo's and ahhh's" though, I often get annoyed by sistrens behavior. I enjoy going to lesbian clubs, getting lesbian pictures, watching lesbians shows, going to lesbian events, reading lesbian books...And the last one is what inspired this blog. An rumor email was sent to me about Beyonce and ? (dag, I forgot her name already) starring as lesbos in a remake of "Tipping the Velvet". I'm not excited, why? Cause they're not lesbians. But I'm prejudging. I'm not the kind that's all caught up in two female looking lustful in bikinis, as they nibble on each other for attention. Yeah, I'll pass on that. It's the real thing that captures me most. I don't even like girl-on-girl porn. I guess it's because it just doesn't look right. I'm like, "what the hell they doin, I hope I don't look like that". I'm still trying to find some good ones, to no avail. *sigh*

But back to what I was saying... I wanted to go to the GLAAD awards in DC this year. the tickets were about $100 a piece. And I wasn't quite ready for that commitment at the time, but I wanted to go. I even sent an email to go as a volunteer. Never heard from them, but I tried. I just wanted to be there, for the cause. Plus, I didn't have a thing to wear. I even wanted to go to the Gay Olympics. Was my Tweety Bird, even concerned? NO. When I talk excitedly about those things, she just nods and gives me the "what a big dike" stare. I'm gonna make it somewhere gay next year. I must! And I'll drag Tweety with me. Hmpf!

Anyhoo, I have decided to go and get the book "Tipping the Velvet" and I'll see how it goes.

Cirque du Soleil

Last night I went to see Cirque du Soleil-Corteo. Very interesting show. Impressive presentation of human talent. The show was supposed to be about a clown who has a dream about his funeral taking place at a carnival. Ummm...I really didn't get all of that, but I guess if I squinted hard enough I could. Attending the show with 4 other women was my Cirque du Soleil (Circus of the Sun). Why? Because brought together were 5 radiant women, shedding their light in their own distinctive ways. All beautiful, all illuminating. A collection of Sun beams. And a collection of issues too. Lol. But isn't that what makes us special? Hee hee...

As I recall conversations that took place, it reminds me of the strength and the struggle in Black women. I enjoyed the fellowship. It was like a text book sampling of women who are in different social phases of life all aiming for what appears to be the same goal...HAPPINESS.

Well anyway I started with a point and I seem to have lost my way. So Imma wrap it up and go get me a cup of Joe so I can type about TWEETY BIRD's anger management problem.

My girlfriend has MS...

My girlfriend was diagnosed with MS, 9 short months after we made our arrangement "official". And shortly following that diagnoses was an attack.

Heart breaking.

At this point, one has to think twice before claiming to marry and be with a person forever. Because the nuptials now officially include "in sickness". When it finally sunk in that my girlfriend has an illness that persistantly tries to chip away at her brain function and that could possibly leave her handicapped, I cried. No big deal right? Wrong. Major big deal. Crying is something that I try to do sparingly. We recently talked about her fear of being handicapped and I joked about how I would dress her in rainboots and little matching hats. A little classless, but I thought it was funny.

And I guess that's it, that's all that I have to say about it.
This story started with a climax and ended with the same one, no build up or "spoken word" here, just straight thoughts, in thier simplest form.