Peace.
I love what few friends I have. It's funny, I live in GA, but I don't have friends here. I have a few girls I can call and we may get together. But I'm talking about down-assed-ride-or-die friends that I don't have to explain myself to. I have those type of friends... They just aren't local. And I'm not a fair weather friend who only wants to know you when you are on top. I will be offended if they go through something and don't tell me. True friendship always goes back and forth.
It seems this is the season for my homies to be going through relationship issues. And it struck me how well I knew them. 2 of my friends' men were both doing the same thing and I instinctively knew how each would respond. And I was right. When another homie told me she left her man, she didn't have to tell me why. I knew. Another girlie was having relationship reservations and I knew what to say to make her feel better. She isn't comfortable in her own skin unless there is a man in the picture. So once I established that there wasn't another option, I could Build with her. All of this got me to thinking....
I must have a personality profile. All my friends have them. So must I. Do they deal with me based on that information? I rarely have relationship problems. I'm a cut-and-runner. If I realize that I'm in a relationship with a man, a female friend, an organization, etc. that doesn't serve me... I bounce. I give no notice. I just go. I don't put up with foolishness if I don't have to. I will break up with a man via text message. I've quit jobs like that too. I ain't one for fooling around. And I promise you I'm the 1st person gone when I smell a fight. I've seen enough fights. If it ain't me fighting, I'm gone. I've noticed that when I'm angry my friends will start explaining themselves. And I don't see them doing that with other people.
But it just put friendship into perspective for me. Everyone ain't capable of true friendship. I am a jokester too. You can come to me with your problems and I will clown you to death. But I'll also be right there with you in the process (still clowning) helping you out. One of my above listed friends was helping me move while cops were chasing us. She cursed at me like I was a rat stealing her last oiece of food, but she was also taking evasive maneuvers that had me gripping the “oh shit” bar. If we are true friends, it's not you or me it's we. Everyone in both ciphers knows that too. You ain't fighting without me at your back. You ain't road tripping without me in the passenger seat complaining about your taste in music. And if you borrow money from me... you better pay it back. I hate loaning money and my friends know this (I hate borrowing it too so it stays balanced). I assume if you ask... you need it. Also don't ask for what I can't give you. That's insulting. I once had a so-called friend who asked me for $500. I ain't got that to lend. She said she didn't need it... just wanted to see if I would lend it to her. We aren't friends anymore. I can't trust her. I don't need other folks counting my money for sport. And dropping her was easy. Just never called her again and stopped taking her calls.
I know my friends and accept their faults. I have whores for friends. What? They just can't be alone with my man. They give great sex advice and know all about STDs. I have thieves for friends. We don't hang at MY house. Or in my car. And when I go out with them... I only carry my keys. We still good. I have religious friends... though I'm not. I have educated friends that I really need to hang with more because them and my moneyed friends keep me on my game. Broke busted friends can make you too comfortable. One needs to travel in multiple ciphers to stay balanced. I even have men friends. Men friends are special. You can't be touchy-feely on them like you can your girls. And if you get drunk they WILL fuck you unless they're gay. And if they're gay, they may steal your purse. Male friends are good for telling you what men think. Flagrant gay male friends are good because they will up your style game. Gay female friends are good if you want to go out and not be hit on by men. And butch women can fight their asses off. So can flagrant gay men... go figure. I know my people. And they know me.
This build was cathartic. I was in my feelings about not having ride or die friends close by. But I realize I have just what I need. Whenever I have called on my homies they have been there for me and vice versa. They will pay their own money for airfare to make sure I'm ok. And I appreciate that. Yeah... I'm good.
Peace
Thursday, June 18, 2015
Wednesday, June 17, 2015
Teach Me
Peace....
I'm teachable. The reason I say that is because there have been times in my life where I recognized that (a) I didn't know something and (b) took steps to rectify the issue. Examples....
When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a little boy. I can't say I identified as a boy because I liked a lot of the girl stuff. It's just that being a girl is an inconvenience compared to being a boy. IJS... Also I had a brother who I wanted to be just like. At some point, I realized that I liked being a girl and boys weren't so bad. But I realized around age 10 hadn't learned little intricacies of little girldom. I couldn't jump double dutch.
Double dutch is a big deal to little girls when and where I grew up. It defined you as a female. The better you jumped, the more worthier you were. I couldn't jump well. That didn't stop me from playing. But, if you know anything about DD, it meant I always had the end. After always having the end, I realized that I wasn't going to get better at jumping. I'd just be really good at turning.
That summer I scouted out some other chronic end-havers and the YMCA summer camp I was attending and brokered a deal with them. Seriously, it was all business like that. It was the 3 of us who couldn't jump. We sequestered ourselves in an unused area of the camp and took turns jumping until we got good. We gave each other tips about what we observed. And by the end of camp, all 3 of us were good enough to jump with the best of the girls and we got respect. LOL @ respect from 10 year olds...
I never learned to play jacks either. I found out that my mother discouraged jacks because she never wanted to inadvertently step on one with her bare feet. I never gave it thought like that. Until I was in an after school program (yeah... my mother was always busy) and jacks was the thing. Since by then I was nice in DD and NO ONE could out jump me.... I had a certain level of female respect. But I couldn't play jacks. And jacks was a big deal there. The reigning jack champ challenged me and my stupid ass thought it was all in fun. She was kind of a mean girl, but I have always been big for my age (though not tall) and I sport a mug still to this day. She beat the brakes off me. She was a jacks savant. Well you know what happened.... I got hold of some money and bought 3 sets of jacks. Them things are little and I expected to lose a few. And every waking hour that I didn't have something going on I played. While at the CYO, I only jumped rope, but I watched... When the annual jacks tournament came, I entered. I worked my way up from the bottom to challenge the jacks queen. She and I were in the final round. She won... but she worked for that win. When it was over, she complimented me on my game and asked me if I had been playing with her before.
My mother doesn't listen to music. So I didn't listen to music. But teenagers listen to music. It's not a peer pressure thing because once I started, I found I liked music. But I had no knowledge of music before 1982. That's not so bad as a teen, because most contempories are concerned about what's current. I covered my ignorance by always knowing every lyric of every song on the radio. My mother didn't do albums (yes I'm old) either. She would get mad if we bought them even with our own money. She might break them... Yeah, I still don't know... but she didn't know anything about cassettes. So I'd load up on cassettes... or buy them off of friends to dub songs so that I could learn them. I know... As I got older and older people have more refined tastes, my lack of “old school” became more apparent. So... I taught myself old school. I would find old albums and ask older people what was the hotness and learn all the songs so that I could literally... fake the funk. It's worked. But I know I don't know as much as others. But now when I hear a name... I have spotify and the internet to educate me. I must be the only 40 something Black person who had never heard of the Barkays...
My mother is serious about her cards. She is old school so she taught me to play 500, and whist... but not spades. I am NOT proficient in bid whist. I can be your partner until your other partner gets back from the beer run. I'm good with that right now. I might learn later but right now... I'm good. I'm not extroverted enough to go looking for whist players. And whist players have their own underground secret squirrel network. But my spades game was lacking. When I went to college, I thought I was playing a friendly game with some classmates. If you know spades on an HBCU campus... there is no such thing. One of my tightest female friend and her friends could beat anybody on the yard... and had that distinction for the 4 years they were in attendance.... including teachers! My friend was a math genius. She could count cards. I don't know why she hasn't made a life for herself as a poker shark.... Their skill was legendary. But before they got famous... I asked her to tell me what was wrong with my game. I wasn't about to get my feelings hurt unnecessarily. I was either going to be good, or I wasn't going to play. So me and my boyfriend sat down and played a game with these 2. The bf was a solid player. Not a shit talking trophy winner, but decent. The 3 of them completely and painfully critiqued my game. Explained nuances that I hadn't noticed. I knew to NOT renege, but I hadn't understand how to read the cards and watch other people while still playing along with my partner. They got me straight. And with nightly practice, by my sophomore year I was good enough to play in the student center. By senior year I could shit-talk with the best of them. I have even won a trophy!
I'm teachable. I am able and honest enough to see when I lack and then decide if there is something I want to do about it. There is lots of things in my life that I know need changing... but I'm not necessarily ready or willing to change. Then there are other things that I have forced myself to learn. The internet is one of those things. I was in my 30's when it came to prominence. Long removed from formal education. I had to figure out blogs, and social media and so forth. The older you get it's hard to learn things, because you have so much to unlearn in the process. I am a 1st class seamstress. I am also self taught. I even 1'ed 120 in my 30's because I can learn new stuff. There is a lot I can do that no one personally taught me... because I'm teachable.
Are you?
Peace
I'm teachable. The reason I say that is because there have been times in my life where I recognized that (a) I didn't know something and (b) took steps to rectify the issue. Examples....
When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a little boy. I can't say I identified as a boy because I liked a lot of the girl stuff. It's just that being a girl is an inconvenience compared to being a boy. IJS... Also I had a brother who I wanted to be just like. At some point, I realized that I liked being a girl and boys weren't so bad. But I realized around age 10 hadn't learned little intricacies of little girldom. I couldn't jump double dutch.
Double dutch is a big deal to little girls when and where I grew up. It defined you as a female. The better you jumped, the more worthier you were. I couldn't jump well. That didn't stop me from playing. But, if you know anything about DD, it meant I always had the end. After always having the end, I realized that I wasn't going to get better at jumping. I'd just be really good at turning.
That summer I scouted out some other chronic end-havers and the YMCA summer camp I was attending and brokered a deal with them. Seriously, it was all business like that. It was the 3 of us who couldn't jump. We sequestered ourselves in an unused area of the camp and took turns jumping until we got good. We gave each other tips about what we observed. And by the end of camp, all 3 of us were good enough to jump with the best of the girls and we got respect. LOL @ respect from 10 year olds...
I never learned to play jacks either. I found out that my mother discouraged jacks because she never wanted to inadvertently step on one with her bare feet. I never gave it thought like that. Until I was in an after school program (yeah... my mother was always busy) and jacks was the thing. Since by then I was nice in DD and NO ONE could out jump me.... I had a certain level of female respect. But I couldn't play jacks. And jacks was a big deal there. The reigning jack champ challenged me and my stupid ass thought it was all in fun. She was kind of a mean girl, but I have always been big for my age (though not tall) and I sport a mug still to this day. She beat the brakes off me. She was a jacks savant. Well you know what happened.... I got hold of some money and bought 3 sets of jacks. Them things are little and I expected to lose a few. And every waking hour that I didn't have something going on I played. While at the CYO, I only jumped rope, but I watched... When the annual jacks tournament came, I entered. I worked my way up from the bottom to challenge the jacks queen. She and I were in the final round. She won... but she worked for that win. When it was over, she complimented me on my game and asked me if I had been playing with her before.
My mother doesn't listen to music. So I didn't listen to music. But teenagers listen to music. It's not a peer pressure thing because once I started, I found I liked music. But I had no knowledge of music before 1982. That's not so bad as a teen, because most contempories are concerned about what's current. I covered my ignorance by always knowing every lyric of every song on the radio. My mother didn't do albums (yes I'm old) either. She would get mad if we bought them even with our own money. She might break them... Yeah, I still don't know... but she didn't know anything about cassettes. So I'd load up on cassettes... or buy them off of friends to dub songs so that I could learn them. I know... As I got older and older people have more refined tastes, my lack of “old school” became more apparent. So... I taught myself old school. I would find old albums and ask older people what was the hotness and learn all the songs so that I could literally... fake the funk. It's worked. But I know I don't know as much as others. But now when I hear a name... I have spotify and the internet to educate me. I must be the only 40 something Black person who had never heard of the Barkays...
My mother is serious about her cards. She is old school so she taught me to play 500, and whist... but not spades. I am NOT proficient in bid whist. I can be your partner until your other partner gets back from the beer run. I'm good with that right now. I might learn later but right now... I'm good. I'm not extroverted enough to go looking for whist players. And whist players have their own underground secret squirrel network. But my spades game was lacking. When I went to college, I thought I was playing a friendly game with some classmates. If you know spades on an HBCU campus... there is no such thing. One of my tightest female friend and her friends could beat anybody on the yard... and had that distinction for the 4 years they were in attendance.... including teachers! My friend was a math genius. She could count cards. I don't know why she hasn't made a life for herself as a poker shark.... Their skill was legendary. But before they got famous... I asked her to tell me what was wrong with my game. I wasn't about to get my feelings hurt unnecessarily. I was either going to be good, or I wasn't going to play. So me and my boyfriend sat down and played a game with these 2. The bf was a solid player. Not a shit talking trophy winner, but decent. The 3 of them completely and painfully critiqued my game. Explained nuances that I hadn't noticed. I knew to NOT renege, but I hadn't understand how to read the cards and watch other people while still playing along with my partner. They got me straight. And with nightly practice, by my sophomore year I was good enough to play in the student center. By senior year I could shit-talk with the best of them. I have even won a trophy!
I'm teachable. I am able and honest enough to see when I lack and then decide if there is something I want to do about it. There is lots of things in my life that I know need changing... but I'm not necessarily ready or willing to change. Then there are other things that I have forced myself to learn. The internet is one of those things. I was in my 30's when it came to prominence. Long removed from formal education. I had to figure out blogs, and social media and so forth. The older you get it's hard to learn things, because you have so much to unlearn in the process. I am a 1st class seamstress. I am also self taught. I even 1'ed 120 in my 30's because I can learn new stuff. There is a lot I can do that no one personally taught me... because I'm teachable.
Are you?
Peace
Thursday, April 30, 2015
Hood Treatment
Peace.
I live in a civilized hood. I live in “Bankhead” a notorious neighborhood in Atlanta. B.U.T.... I live in Collier Heights. A nice, upwardly mobile section of that bad neighborhood. My home is sandwiched in between a strip club and a church. My neighbors are SUPER concerned about their yards and homes. It's really nice where I live. I pay for my accommodations. No one is subsidizing my lifestyle. I'm not just going to live anywhere. And I always make the CONSCIOUS choice to live amongst Black people.
But..... I have come to notice that in the wilderness of North America, when Black people congregate, it serves as a focal point for harassment.
For the last 5 years this country has been embroiled in riot after riot. Protest after protest. Police brutality. Have you been paying attention to the location of the starts of these disturbances? Black neighborhoods. When I drive to work, I have a few options: neighborhood or highway. When drive through the neighborhood, I have 2 options. One option has angry police officers with traps set up for the entire 5 miles. Think about the stress that a person goes through traveling through an active war zone? It's not cool. The other option is a bit longer, is mostly a single lane road with far too many buses, but the road is intensely raggedy. One of those potholes actually cause a paradigm shift in me. That's stressful on me and stressful on my vehicle. I could ride the highway, but that is the longest and most stressful of all. I live 7 miles from the job, they highway would ad and addition 10.
But my commute isn't the only thing. There is no true restaurant close to my home... unless I wanted to eat at the strip club or a truck stop. There is no grocery store in my neighborhood. There aren't any true amenities in my neighborhood. And if I try to access any are present I get harassed by the police. I went to the park for a picnic. Laid the blanket down, had the food and had a book. The police rolled in, watched me for about 10 minutes then asked me what I was doing. I had difficulty answering because I thought it was obvious. After an uncomfortable conversation, they went back to their cars and tried to intimidate me to leave... but that didn't happen.
I have been running in my own neighborhood and accused of soliciting. I gotta be a hoe because I want to work out? But then I guess Black women aren't supposed to exercise. If our alarm goes off by accident, even if we give the company the code, they still call the police... which charges us. When the weather is bad, my hood loses electricity. I thought this happened in all of the city. Not so. My boss... who is white and lives amongst his people... has never lost electricity due to weather....EVER.
One of the more unfortunate habits the the people of this hood have come to accept is hearding. The walmart in the hood... yes they want them Black greenbacks like everyone else.... a police VAN sits outside and the security guards are Atlanta police with real guns. When I saw that, I decided to NOT shop there. I ain't never been policed in a walmart and I'm not about to start. The CVS chick got mad because I walked in the store via the exit door rather than the entrance door. I have issues with that. (a) I needed to use an ATM near said door and (b) the exit door opened for me. That bitched demanded I leave and re-enter. The library has only a few books. No stacks at all just rotating polls. If you are looking for a book, you must look through everything because it has no sections. You see the institutional bullshit these people have gotten so used to that they don't even realize that they are being insulted???
So Serenity... Just move. Oh, I will. COA life ain't for me. But I will live in another Black community. I've lived in 3 different states. I have come to learn that white folks don't want to live near POC's. They want us to cut their grass, raise their children, do the things to make their lives fluffier. But they don't want to come home from a long day of work and see us coming HOME from work either. If they can't move when we move in, they make our lives hell. I pay for my things like they do. I'm not willing to get burned out by folks that don't want me there. They think we are subhuman and don't have the same boundaries they have with their own people. Again my Black skin doesn't come with free utilities.
I see it as a missed opportunity really. You hear folks complaining about 'food deserts' but what you don't hear is folks saying what they are doing about it. Everyone that notices that there is a lack has an opportunity to change it. You don't have to open a store right away. Start with a truck or a wagon. Crawl before you walk. Hell, you could develop a system where you take orders from the community and then deliver it. Charge them more than you paid for it to cover expenses and make a profit. Boom! Hell the summer is coming. Network with some children to help you out and call it a summer camp. Clueless parents would be willing to pay you for allowing their children to help you. Mo' money, mo' money mo' money! If you notice a hole it's your responsibility to fill the gap.
I'm just making Knowledge Born that the Black side of town is grimier than the white side. And it's not because we don't pay taxes. It's because the powers that be don't give 2 fucks about us. And everything ain't for us to fix. Yes, it is our responsibility to cut our own grass, keep our homes up, and not litter or vandalize our neighborhoods. But picking up the trash when scheduled and making sure pot holes don't swallow up my SUV that is the city's job. Having students wait so close to the street because the sidewalks are too narrow while they wait for the bus is not the fault of the neighborhood. It's the city's fault. And they CHOOSE to prey on the community via the police but not supply resources. Not everyone is aware of the plot. Some folks succumb to savagery after being treated like a animal for so long. Well I know what's going on.
I have lived in Black communities where everyone did their jobs with regard to the external of their homes. I've lived in communities so pristine, that visitors thought it was a mixed. I mean it would have to be mixed if I lived there. I ALWAYS correct folks. Especially Black folks who think an all Black neighborhood must be the pits. But guess what? I don't live in fear trapped in my own house.
My mother lives in a “mixed” community. And she sleeps with a shotgun next to her bed because she fears her white neighbors. If they say “good morning” she searches for ulterior meanings. She has an excuse to mistrust white folks. She was raised in the segregated south. She, however, doesn't have a reason for why she bought in hat neighborhood. And she knows that she will NEVER receive a moment's comfort from her “Black Power” daughter.
Serenity are you filling your gap? Nope. I'm breaking camp. And in the community I chose to set roots down in, I will work towards that there. I knew this rest stop was going to be temporary when I stopped the truck here. Our communities don't have to be run down and devoid of useful business. Stop drinking all the damn Kooli-Aid the devil serves up for you.
Peace
I live in a civilized hood. I live in “Bankhead” a notorious neighborhood in Atlanta. B.U.T.... I live in Collier Heights. A nice, upwardly mobile section of that bad neighborhood. My home is sandwiched in between a strip club and a church. My neighbors are SUPER concerned about their yards and homes. It's really nice where I live. I pay for my accommodations. No one is subsidizing my lifestyle. I'm not just going to live anywhere. And I always make the CONSCIOUS choice to live amongst Black people.
But..... I have come to notice that in the wilderness of North America, when Black people congregate, it serves as a focal point for harassment.
For the last 5 years this country has been embroiled in riot after riot. Protest after protest. Police brutality. Have you been paying attention to the location of the starts of these disturbances? Black neighborhoods. When I drive to work, I have a few options: neighborhood or highway. When drive through the neighborhood, I have 2 options. One option has angry police officers with traps set up for the entire 5 miles. Think about the stress that a person goes through traveling through an active war zone? It's not cool. The other option is a bit longer, is mostly a single lane road with far too many buses, but the road is intensely raggedy. One of those potholes actually cause a paradigm shift in me. That's stressful on me and stressful on my vehicle. I could ride the highway, but that is the longest and most stressful of all. I live 7 miles from the job, they highway would ad and addition 10.
But my commute isn't the only thing. There is no true restaurant close to my home... unless I wanted to eat at the strip club or a truck stop. There is no grocery store in my neighborhood. There aren't any true amenities in my neighborhood. And if I try to access any are present I get harassed by the police. I went to the park for a picnic. Laid the blanket down, had the food and had a book. The police rolled in, watched me for about 10 minutes then asked me what I was doing. I had difficulty answering because I thought it was obvious. After an uncomfortable conversation, they went back to their cars and tried to intimidate me to leave... but that didn't happen.
I have been running in my own neighborhood and accused of soliciting. I gotta be a hoe because I want to work out? But then I guess Black women aren't supposed to exercise. If our alarm goes off by accident, even if we give the company the code, they still call the police... which charges us. When the weather is bad, my hood loses electricity. I thought this happened in all of the city. Not so. My boss... who is white and lives amongst his people... has never lost electricity due to weather....EVER.
One of the more unfortunate habits the the people of this hood have come to accept is hearding. The walmart in the hood... yes they want them Black greenbacks like everyone else.... a police VAN sits outside and the security guards are Atlanta police with real guns. When I saw that, I decided to NOT shop there. I ain't never been policed in a walmart and I'm not about to start. The CVS chick got mad because I walked in the store via the exit door rather than the entrance door. I have issues with that. (a) I needed to use an ATM near said door and (b) the exit door opened for me. That bitched demanded I leave and re-enter. The library has only a few books. No stacks at all just rotating polls. If you are looking for a book, you must look through everything because it has no sections. You see the institutional bullshit these people have gotten so used to that they don't even realize that they are being insulted???
So Serenity... Just move. Oh, I will. COA life ain't for me. But I will live in another Black community. I've lived in 3 different states. I have come to learn that white folks don't want to live near POC's. They want us to cut their grass, raise their children, do the things to make their lives fluffier. But they don't want to come home from a long day of work and see us coming HOME from work either. If they can't move when we move in, they make our lives hell. I pay for my things like they do. I'm not willing to get burned out by folks that don't want me there. They think we are subhuman and don't have the same boundaries they have with their own people. Again my Black skin doesn't come with free utilities.
I see it as a missed opportunity really. You hear folks complaining about 'food deserts' but what you don't hear is folks saying what they are doing about it. Everyone that notices that there is a lack has an opportunity to change it. You don't have to open a store right away. Start with a truck or a wagon. Crawl before you walk. Hell, you could develop a system where you take orders from the community and then deliver it. Charge them more than you paid for it to cover expenses and make a profit. Boom! Hell the summer is coming. Network with some children to help you out and call it a summer camp. Clueless parents would be willing to pay you for allowing their children to help you. Mo' money, mo' money mo' money! If you notice a hole it's your responsibility to fill the gap.
I'm just making Knowledge Born that the Black side of town is grimier than the white side. And it's not because we don't pay taxes. It's because the powers that be don't give 2 fucks about us. And everything ain't for us to fix. Yes, it is our responsibility to cut our own grass, keep our homes up, and not litter or vandalize our neighborhoods. But picking up the trash when scheduled and making sure pot holes don't swallow up my SUV that is the city's job. Having students wait so close to the street because the sidewalks are too narrow while they wait for the bus is not the fault of the neighborhood. It's the city's fault. And they CHOOSE to prey on the community via the police but not supply resources. Not everyone is aware of the plot. Some folks succumb to savagery after being treated like a animal for so long. Well I know what's going on.
I have lived in Black communities where everyone did their jobs with regard to the external of their homes. I've lived in communities so pristine, that visitors thought it was a mixed. I mean it would have to be mixed if I lived there. I ALWAYS correct folks. Especially Black folks who think an all Black neighborhood must be the pits. But guess what? I don't live in fear trapped in my own house.
My mother lives in a “mixed” community. And she sleeps with a shotgun next to her bed because she fears her white neighbors. If they say “good morning” she searches for ulterior meanings. She has an excuse to mistrust white folks. She was raised in the segregated south. She, however, doesn't have a reason for why she bought in hat neighborhood. And she knows that she will NEVER receive a moment's comfort from her “Black Power” daughter.
Serenity are you filling your gap? Nope. I'm breaking camp. And in the community I chose to set roots down in, I will work towards that there. I knew this rest stop was going to be temporary when I stopped the truck here. Our communities don't have to be run down and devoid of useful business. Stop drinking all the damn Kooli-Aid the devil serves up for you.
Peace
Tuesday, April 14, 2015
Guard Your Heart
Peace.
When I was an active and practicing Christian.... I kept hearing the phrase, “guard your heart.” I get why they said that now. Guarding your heart is the only way to keep oneself a proper xian.
Guarding your heart means, don't do things that might expose you to some anti, or alternative information. If you get exposed to that which is not “of god” then you will burn in hell because it causes you to question your faith. Questioning your faith leads to lack of devotion (and protection payments) which ultimately causes you to stray. Stray = hell. If that information is in books... don't read the books. If it is in movies.... don't watch those movies. If that information is in music.... don't listen to that music. If that information comes via other people.... Stay away from those people. It is a method of preserving folks by keeping them in a bubble of holiness.
Well... I don't guard my heart. I suppose that is why I stopped being a xian. I got influenced by many different ideologies to the point where I was forced me make my own conscious choices about what was important to me and guess what? Xianity is/was not important to me.
I love reading and learning new things so much that it was inevitable that I would leave the xian fold. I've read books on everything... including Luciferianism. I just do not believe that a book is going to damn me to hell. Actually, I don't believe hell exists. Once you take that off the plate, a lot of foolishness falls off with it. I have studied with Wiccans and attended their rituals. I have attended Muslim services. I have aligned my chakras and prayed with Hindus. I've had accupuncture. And now I am a comfortable 120 holding, 5%er. I'm super good.
There are universal truths. You can't interact with the grimy and stay clean. What every you make, you own and it always comes back to you. Everything dies. In order for things to live, others must die. Everybody is going to have good and bad times. Etc....
These universal truths don't give a fuck who you are. So why do you have to put a label on it and live your life based on someone else's rules? And that someone else doesn't even know me!
Yeah.... Read books people. Right now libraries are still free....
Peace
When I was an active and practicing Christian.... I kept hearing the phrase, “guard your heart.” I get why they said that now. Guarding your heart is the only way to keep oneself a proper xian.
Guarding your heart means, don't do things that might expose you to some anti, or alternative information. If you get exposed to that which is not “of god” then you will burn in hell because it causes you to question your faith. Questioning your faith leads to lack of devotion (and protection payments) which ultimately causes you to stray. Stray = hell. If that information is in books... don't read the books. If it is in movies.... don't watch those movies. If that information is in music.... don't listen to that music. If that information comes via other people.... Stay away from those people. It is a method of preserving folks by keeping them in a bubble of holiness.
Well... I don't guard my heart. I suppose that is why I stopped being a xian. I got influenced by many different ideologies to the point where I was forced me make my own conscious choices about what was important to me and guess what? Xianity is/was not important to me.
I love reading and learning new things so much that it was inevitable that I would leave the xian fold. I've read books on everything... including Luciferianism. I just do not believe that a book is going to damn me to hell. Actually, I don't believe hell exists. Once you take that off the plate, a lot of foolishness falls off with it. I have studied with Wiccans and attended their rituals. I have attended Muslim services. I have aligned my chakras and prayed with Hindus. I've had accupuncture. And now I am a comfortable 120 holding, 5%er. I'm super good.
There are universal truths. You can't interact with the grimy and stay clean. What every you make, you own and it always comes back to you. Everything dies. In order for things to live, others must die. Everybody is going to have good and bad times. Etc....
These universal truths don't give a fuck who you are. So why do you have to put a label on it and live your life based on someone else's rules? And that someone else doesn't even know me!
Yeah.... Read books people. Right now libraries are still free....
Peace
Monday, April 13, 2015
Poli-Tricks
Peace....
I have come to learn an uncomfortable truth.....
It doesn't matter how well you do a job, nor does it matter how efficient you are.
Unless you are the boss, you MUST play office poli-tricks.
I have had several job in my working career. So I have had several employee reviews. It is always the same.... My employers have NEVER been dissatisfied with my work. What they do say is that I don't play well with others. Playing well with others has never been one of my aspirations. Work is work. Play is play.
When I take a job, I assume it is to perform a specific service. Anything outside my job description is extra... And if I'm not getting paid for it.......
I have a coworker that does VERY little work. She does a lot of walking around and politricicking. Yet... she is the employee of the month and I get reprimanded. Here is the thing... I do what I am supposed to do. Not only that, I keep meticulous records. I'm also professional. So when employers want to get up in my ass about anything that is non job related, they never have a leg to stand on. Because... I do my job.
I am a very playful person, but I am not playful at work. I keep my life compartmentalized. I have my work people.... My righteous people... my sorority people... my family....my party people... I used to have church people, but they are all gone now... my good friends. Only my good friends get to be in more than one cipher. And my God is the ultimate good friend and he gets to be in everything.
I have come to learn to NOT make good friends in environments where we will have the same person signing our paychecks. Coworkers are as dependent on their check as I am. They will sell you out if they feel like it will preserve their job, or if they feel they need to. So why give them ammunition? On my 1st real job, I closely befriended a woman. She eventually became my boss. And when that happened I was initially thrilled. BUT.... she knew everything about me by that point. And she used that information against me whenever she had the opportunity to further herself. I was not just hurt at the job... but my feelings were hurt. I have never allowed myself to have a work close friend.
I am a polite person. I follow the rules of etiquette. Those are the only rules that can't be disputed. When I have a job with a office or a desk, I have the most current edition of Emily Post right on display. I strive to non-offensive to my coworkers. But I am no pushover and are always well aware of what my duties are. I speak to people and make the clients feel comfortable in the work environment. What more do people want?
I would love to work with me. But that's not who I work for or with.
When I get to work, I get here early. The reason behind that is I don't want to be late. Also I like to ease into my day and not be thrust into it. I then make a list (I also make one the night before) of what I need to accomplish and by what time. When I sit down with my cup of coffee, I proceed to knock my tasks out. Then when I'm done, I'll do whatever. Even when I come back from lunch, I do a mini version of the same morning procedure. It is rare I leave with work undone. I even plan out my week based on this model. That is right and exact. Making people feel warm and fuzzy... not so much.
Now here is where folks tell me I'm mean.... I don't eat lunch with other folks because... I follow a special diet and can get annoyed when folks make comments... because they are comments and not genuine questions... about what I eat. That is rude and insulting. I do not go out for drinks with coworkers or want to fool with them on my off time. I have a life and other shit to do. I'm not going to spend my recreational time with people where I have to be super cautious about what I say, what I wear, who I'm with, etc. If I'm invited to a wedding or funeral, I'll go. I will show my respects, but that's all you're getting from me. I won't buy trinkets from folks children. I don't sell anything, and I have no children for them to purchase crap from. There is no equality there and I don't feel any kind of way about it. I'm not sharing my personals with you. I'm just not. Me and the 7 had begun cohabiting for a minute before the people I currently work with realized. The only way they found out is because he came to a funeral with me.
I'm harking on work since I tend to be more cautious because that's where my money comes from. I have these same issues everywhere I go. My family thinks I'm a wild hippy Muslim child. I don't know where they get that from. I suppose it's because I'm different from them in obvious aspects (appearance, and religion is all I can think of). But in every way it matters I am very similar to them and have similar concerns. My sorority doesn't say it verbally, but I can see with their eyes that they think me different from them as well. I wrap my head... but always stylishly! I wear locs that can be seen (but that's no longer a faux pas these days?) and I have a very small nose ring that most folks don't notice. I see their eyes going up to my head then looking me all over. The old women just flat out ignore me until they want me to do something. I have decades in. Them old biddies don't mean shit to me. I pledged once. I won't do it again. Righteous people treat me suspect because I have college degrees, a square job, never been to jail and have no children. I must be an agent! I'm not interested in the things that interest them and just strive to see Allah's world manifest... And I'm not Muslim. My close friends are my sanctuary. I except them without questions and I expect the same. And for the most part, it's what I get. I have 7 of them that know me... and it's good. Unfortunately most of them aren't local. Oh well... this is a global existence.
I realize the common denominator is me, but I am unwilling to change because it essentially works for me. I have feelings... lots of feelings.... more feelings than folks suspect. And it's more important for me to protect those feelings rather than let folks run rough shot all over them and that is what folks do until proven otherwise. But I recognize.... that eventually.... I'm a have to figure out how to smooze... or become my own boss.
Peace
I have come to learn an uncomfortable truth.....
It doesn't matter how well you do a job, nor does it matter how efficient you are.
Unless you are the boss, you MUST play office poli-tricks.
I have had several job in my working career. So I have had several employee reviews. It is always the same.... My employers have NEVER been dissatisfied with my work. What they do say is that I don't play well with others. Playing well with others has never been one of my aspirations. Work is work. Play is play.
When I take a job, I assume it is to perform a specific service. Anything outside my job description is extra... And if I'm not getting paid for it.......
I have a coworker that does VERY little work. She does a lot of walking around and politricicking. Yet... she is the employee of the month and I get reprimanded. Here is the thing... I do what I am supposed to do. Not only that, I keep meticulous records. I'm also professional. So when employers want to get up in my ass about anything that is non job related, they never have a leg to stand on. Because... I do my job.
I am a very playful person, but I am not playful at work. I keep my life compartmentalized. I have my work people.... My righteous people... my sorority people... my family....my party people... I used to have church people, but they are all gone now... my good friends. Only my good friends get to be in more than one cipher. And my God is the ultimate good friend and he gets to be in everything.
I have come to learn to NOT make good friends in environments where we will have the same person signing our paychecks. Coworkers are as dependent on their check as I am. They will sell you out if they feel like it will preserve their job, or if they feel they need to. So why give them ammunition? On my 1st real job, I closely befriended a woman. She eventually became my boss. And when that happened I was initially thrilled. BUT.... she knew everything about me by that point. And she used that information against me whenever she had the opportunity to further herself. I was not just hurt at the job... but my feelings were hurt. I have never allowed myself to have a work close friend.
I am a polite person. I follow the rules of etiquette. Those are the only rules that can't be disputed. When I have a job with a office or a desk, I have the most current edition of Emily Post right on display. I strive to non-offensive to my coworkers. But I am no pushover and are always well aware of what my duties are. I speak to people and make the clients feel comfortable in the work environment. What more do people want?
I would love to work with me. But that's not who I work for or with.
When I get to work, I get here early. The reason behind that is I don't want to be late. Also I like to ease into my day and not be thrust into it. I then make a list (I also make one the night before) of what I need to accomplish and by what time. When I sit down with my cup of coffee, I proceed to knock my tasks out. Then when I'm done, I'll do whatever. Even when I come back from lunch, I do a mini version of the same morning procedure. It is rare I leave with work undone. I even plan out my week based on this model. That is right and exact. Making people feel warm and fuzzy... not so much.
Now here is where folks tell me I'm mean.... I don't eat lunch with other folks because... I follow a special diet and can get annoyed when folks make comments... because they are comments and not genuine questions... about what I eat. That is rude and insulting. I do not go out for drinks with coworkers or want to fool with them on my off time. I have a life and other shit to do. I'm not going to spend my recreational time with people where I have to be super cautious about what I say, what I wear, who I'm with, etc. If I'm invited to a wedding or funeral, I'll go. I will show my respects, but that's all you're getting from me. I won't buy trinkets from folks children. I don't sell anything, and I have no children for them to purchase crap from. There is no equality there and I don't feel any kind of way about it. I'm not sharing my personals with you. I'm just not. Me and the 7 had begun cohabiting for a minute before the people I currently work with realized. The only way they found out is because he came to a funeral with me.
I'm harking on work since I tend to be more cautious because that's where my money comes from. I have these same issues everywhere I go. My family thinks I'm a wild hippy Muslim child. I don't know where they get that from. I suppose it's because I'm different from them in obvious aspects (appearance, and religion is all I can think of). But in every way it matters I am very similar to them and have similar concerns. My sorority doesn't say it verbally, but I can see with their eyes that they think me different from them as well. I wrap my head... but always stylishly! I wear locs that can be seen (but that's no longer a faux pas these days?) and I have a very small nose ring that most folks don't notice. I see their eyes going up to my head then looking me all over. The old women just flat out ignore me until they want me to do something. I have decades in. Them old biddies don't mean shit to me. I pledged once. I won't do it again. Righteous people treat me suspect because I have college degrees, a square job, never been to jail and have no children. I must be an agent! I'm not interested in the things that interest them and just strive to see Allah's world manifest... And I'm not Muslim. My close friends are my sanctuary. I except them without questions and I expect the same. And for the most part, it's what I get. I have 7 of them that know me... and it's good. Unfortunately most of them aren't local. Oh well... this is a global existence.
I realize the common denominator is me, but I am unwilling to change because it essentially works for me. I have feelings... lots of feelings.... more feelings than folks suspect. And it's more important for me to protect those feelings rather than let folks run rough shot all over them and that is what folks do until proven otherwise. But I recognize.... that eventually.... I'm a have to figure out how to smooze... or become my own boss.
Peace
Monday, April 6, 2015
Skirts, Bras and Hate
Peace...
I had an interaction this weekend that brought to mind memories.... I was telling a “friend” that I had made a kelly green lace skirt. (I cannot stop looking at because it is so pretty!!!!) She asked me if I lined it. Of course I lined it. I work in a dentist office and not a strip club. She asked what color the lining was. That's a weird question. I still don't understand her motivation for asking. But I said, “brown.” She asked, “Why did you choose brown?” I said, “Because I'm brown.” She then told me.... that I should have lined it in beige and that my skirt would look dirty. Woooooooow!!!!!!That's a level of self hate I'm not used to. But maybe I should be.
I don't wear white bras. At this junction, I don't even own white bras anymore. Ever since I started buying my own bras, I have made the conscious choice to purchase bras that couldn't be detected under my clothes. I'm dark skinned. So I own mostly black, but some navy, some emerald green, etc. but all dark. When I know that I ma purchasing bras and will have to try them on, I wear a white shirt just to make sure you can't see it. My mother and I were bra shopping and she wanted to buy some for me. My boobs are not ordinary, so I have to shop at specialty stores. At this particular store on this particular day, they only had white bras in my size. I didn't want them. My mother says, “But they fit.” I said, “I don't wear white bras.” She said, “Everyone wears white bras.” I said, “I don't.” Even the dark skinned sales lady said that she preferred the darker colors. My mother refused to understand. But I refused to bras. And that reminded me of.....
When I got married, I had a bra made. (yes you can to that). I had a black bra made. When I brought it home, my mother bitched because I had it made in black and not white. I countered that you would be able to see a white bra though my dress. And she said not if I wore a slip. That interaction brought back to mind this one....
I used to usher. On the 1st Sunday all the ushers wore their “usher whites.” I always wore Black underthings so that you couldn't see them underneath my whites. The head usher took me aside and asked why I didn't wear white under my whites. I said because you'd see them. She said not if you wore a white slip. She said my whites looked dingy. I asked what about these white tights. She told me there was nothing I could do about them. And she made us wear these thick assed tights too. Not plain white hose, but tights. She said It would look better. What she meant is the color of our legs wouldn't seep through.
What's with this self hate dark people???? I know in this culture white people are seen as the default, so I expect foolishness from them... but not from us. We are supposed to know that everything that's for them doesn't always apply to us. I don't wear “nude” pantyhose. I wear coffee. I don't wear nude shoes, because on me, they are beige. I will wear bronze or copper shoes with everything, though. I don't wash my hair everyday. I know to try on makeup before I purchase it because it may just disappear into my skin.I should own stock in Palmers cocoa butter because I use it like that. I know that “ashy” is a real thing. And guess what... I... Don't... Look.... Dingy! When I wear dark foundation garments. I don't see white as the pinnacle of any damn thing.
But if you do.... stay the hell away from me. I'm having a good time. I own all of this.
Peace
I had an interaction this weekend that brought to mind memories.... I was telling a “friend” that I had made a kelly green lace skirt. (I cannot stop looking at because it is so pretty!!!!) She asked me if I lined it. Of course I lined it. I work in a dentist office and not a strip club. She asked what color the lining was. That's a weird question. I still don't understand her motivation for asking. But I said, “brown.” She asked, “Why did you choose brown?” I said, “Because I'm brown.” She then told me.... that I should have lined it in beige and that my skirt would look dirty. Woooooooow!!!!!!That's a level of self hate I'm not used to. But maybe I should be.
I don't wear white bras. At this junction, I don't even own white bras anymore. Ever since I started buying my own bras, I have made the conscious choice to purchase bras that couldn't be detected under my clothes. I'm dark skinned. So I own mostly black, but some navy, some emerald green, etc. but all dark. When I know that I ma purchasing bras and will have to try them on, I wear a white shirt just to make sure you can't see it. My mother and I were bra shopping and she wanted to buy some for me. My boobs are not ordinary, so I have to shop at specialty stores. At this particular store on this particular day, they only had white bras in my size. I didn't want them. My mother says, “But they fit.” I said, “I don't wear white bras.” She said, “Everyone wears white bras.” I said, “I don't.” Even the dark skinned sales lady said that she preferred the darker colors. My mother refused to understand. But I refused to bras. And that reminded me of.....
When I got married, I had a bra made. (yes you can to that). I had a black bra made. When I brought it home, my mother bitched because I had it made in black and not white. I countered that you would be able to see a white bra though my dress. And she said not if I wore a slip. That interaction brought back to mind this one....
I used to usher. On the 1st Sunday all the ushers wore their “usher whites.” I always wore Black underthings so that you couldn't see them underneath my whites. The head usher took me aside and asked why I didn't wear white under my whites. I said because you'd see them. She said not if you wore a white slip. She said my whites looked dingy. I asked what about these white tights. She told me there was nothing I could do about them. And she made us wear these thick assed tights too. Not plain white hose, but tights. She said It would look better. What she meant is the color of our legs wouldn't seep through.
What's with this self hate dark people???? I know in this culture white people are seen as the default, so I expect foolishness from them... but not from us. We are supposed to know that everything that's for them doesn't always apply to us. I don't wear “nude” pantyhose. I wear coffee. I don't wear nude shoes, because on me, they are beige. I will wear bronze or copper shoes with everything, though. I don't wash my hair everyday. I know to try on makeup before I purchase it because it may just disappear into my skin.I should own stock in Palmers cocoa butter because I use it like that. I know that “ashy” is a real thing. And guess what... I... Don't... Look.... Dingy! When I wear dark foundation garments. I don't see white as the pinnacle of any damn thing.
But if you do.... stay the hell away from me. I'm having a good time. I own all of this.
Peace
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
Mind your Business
Peace.
I haven't posted in a while. Not because I haven't been sewing... I have... for other people but not so much for me. It's not that I don't have plans to sew for me, but the other people thing takes precedence. It seems like other people refuse to get a garment to you unless they need it the next day. But... I did want to ask y'all a question....
Stashes??? I don't really have one of fabric. I will purchase patterns... on sale... like crazy. But not fabric. How do you know how much fabric to buy if you aren't making something specific? I'm not saying I don't have fabric. I do. But it's only a drawer full. I have more fabric in the quilt pile which is my extra fabric after a project. My so-called stash is me changing my mind or not getting to something. I see y'all with shelves and shelves of fabric. Y'all are making me feel inadequate. I want to go into a fabric store and buy all fabric I like. But when I try that, I'm at a loss because I don't know how much to ask for. And then the notions? Should I buy some? Especially when I don't know what I'm making!
My process is as thus... (1) I get inspired. (2) I decide on a pattern (3) I buy the fabric and notions necessary for the garment. And (4) I make said garment. How do you get a stash from that???
Now if you don't mind, I'm a need for y'all to answer quickly. I'm going to the fabric store this weekend on a full paycheck. I don't know when that will happen again. And I'm a want to buy UP the store. So tell me the hows and why you have a stash because I WANT ONE TOO!!!! When you're buying random amounts of fabric just because you like it, how do you know how much to buy??? How do you know what the fabric wants to be?
Peace!
I haven't posted in a while. Not because I haven't been sewing... I have... for other people but not so much for me. It's not that I don't have plans to sew for me, but the other people thing takes precedence. It seems like other people refuse to get a garment to you unless they need it the next day. But... I did want to ask y'all a question....
Stashes??? I don't really have one of fabric. I will purchase patterns... on sale... like crazy. But not fabric. How do you know how much fabric to buy if you aren't making something specific? I'm not saying I don't have fabric. I do. But it's only a drawer full. I have more fabric in the quilt pile which is my extra fabric after a project. My so-called stash is me changing my mind or not getting to something. I see y'all with shelves and shelves of fabric. Y'all are making me feel inadequate. I want to go into a fabric store and buy all fabric I like. But when I try that, I'm at a loss because I don't know how much to ask for. And then the notions? Should I buy some? Especially when I don't know what I'm making!
My process is as thus... (1) I get inspired. (2) I decide on a pattern (3) I buy the fabric and notions necessary for the garment. And (4) I make said garment. How do you get a stash from that???
Now if you don't mind, I'm a need for y'all to answer quickly. I'm going to the fabric store this weekend on a full paycheck. I don't know when that will happen again. And I'm a want to buy UP the store. So tell me the hows and why you have a stash because I WANT ONE TOO!!!! When you're buying random amounts of fabric just because you like it, how do you know how much to buy??? How do you know what the fabric wants to be?
Peace!
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