Saturday, August 31, 2013
*pumps fist in the air...and collapses*
"Wha..." I groggily raise my head to see who's talking. It's her. My brain. What does she want? She's supposed to be face down in the dirt, too. Did she forget we just wobbled across the finish line?
"You know we have to keep going, right?" She says to me. Okay, I know this chick must have forgotten how she was just cursing me out a few days ago for accepting this crazy challenge.
I prop my heavy head up on my elbows to keep it from rolling to the ground. "Did you just say keep going?" She shakes her head in agreement.
"Hold up, have you been sipping Cosmos with Denial again? You know we have a restraining order against her."
She looks at me sideways. "Whatever. I've worked my rump off for you and it's time to get this thing going."
"What are you talking about? It was a 31-day challenge and it's Day 31. Hello? We're done," I say and lay my head back down. Hmph. What have you been smoking? I think to myself.
"Wasn't trying to hide it," I say, matching her sarcasm.
"The book isn't going to finish itself," she says in that irritating sing-song voice that people use just to annoy you because they know you know that they know they're right.
I get in one good eye roll and sit down at my computer. I'll thank her later.
Friday, August 30, 2013
I like this quote because you can take the word writer out and it still applies to just about anything.
People who have "made it" are people who just kept going. Regardless of what people told them they couldn't do. Whether or not they felt the love and support because a lot of times I'm sure they didn't.
People who do nothing don't understand people who do something. They just don't get it. They don't understand what all the fuss is about. They feel you're wasting your time. They'll tell you it will never amount to anything, or roll their eyes and suck their teeth when someone tries to praise you.
But, it's okay.
What's for you is for you. Everybody can't go where you're going.
Just keep going.
Thursday, August 29, 2013
I have nothing brewing and stewing in my brain for today's post. But, 29 days in and I just can't allow myself to skip and write nothing. It feels like quitting.
Sure, I could easily say, "Pfft, who cares? It's just one day." Afterall, there's no prize to be won on Day 31. No trophy, no gold medal, no monetary award, no publicity, no free tickets, not even a "31-Day Blogger Challenge Winner" badge for my blog. Nothing.
But, isn't that what writing is about? Think about it. If you're a newbie writer with nothing writerly on your resume other than a sticky note, you're unknown to the writing world.
There is no prize after "The End". There are no agents/publishers beating down your door and blowing up your inbox. There isn't a fanbase camping outside of bookstores. There aren't people hovering over the "Buy" button waiting for your e-book to hit the internet.
You know after "The End" it's just you. And yet, you keep going. You don't quit. Something inside you pushes you to keep pushing. To keep going. To not give up. Just one more word, one more line.
Day 29 for me feels like I've been running the 1600m and I'm dragging my exhausted body down the final stretch. My brain is coasting on her last bit of creative fumes. She's drained, I'm tired, and yet, we just can't give up.
I didn't go in to this challenge with quitting as an option. Today is no different.
One more word, one more line, "...try just one more time."
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
For those of us who say no to gossip, we don't want to know what kind of medicine your church member's husband is taking or the ailment. We don't want to know what type of laundry detergent your neighbor uses (or that they buy it in bulk at Sam's Club). We don't want to know the Treasurer of the women's committee you belong to met her boyfriend on-line.
We don't know these people!
We don't want to know the neighbor of your sister is having marital problems. Or, their son is flunking math. We don't have to know the brother-in-law of a distant cousin is having surgery and will be on medical leave for six weeks.
All of that time you spend spreading dirt, what are you doing for yourself? I know the answer--nothing. Running your mouth takes up a lot of time. Oh, yes. It does. One gossipy phone call can last for hours. Seriously. And usually, it's like eating candy. You just can't stop at one. Nope. You have to make the usual rounds until everyone in the Gossip Crew is thoroughly covered in someone else's dirt.
Tina has 3 friends she always calls when she has something juicy to spill. If one conversation lasts 2 hours, how many hours total does Tina spend gossiping with all three friends?
Answer: 6 hours.
Now, add 1 hour for lunch (meaning you're sharing the biz in between bites of your sandwich) and 2 fifteen minute breaks (texting the biz while doing your biz in the bathroom). That's 7 hours and 30 minutes. Add another 30 minutes for not "working" as soon as you get to your desk.
See what I mean? Add up everything and you get 8 hours. That's your entire work day.
So, what did you accomplish? Nothing. Other than telling everyone your neighbor two streets over just painted her front door blue (she got the paint on sale at Lowe's).
Girl, do some work!
Monday, August 26, 2013
Miley Cyrus!!! Oh. My-lanta! What in the H did I watch?!
Can someone puh-lease (seriously, I'm begging you) explain to me what in the world that was?! Okay, I expected some randomness to be on display (it is MTV and that's cool), but come on! I felt like I was watching some weird Carnival infused Dance of the Teddy Bear Picnic/ "somebody was high when they thought of this nonsense" kind of thing.
And just when I thought my jaw couldn't drop any further, she starts dry-humping a foam finger! (Wait, did you hear that crashing sound? That was all the moms whoever bought anything Hannah Montana for their daughter simultaneously fainting) At that point, my eyeballs screamed and fled from the room, shouting they weren't coming back until I turned the channel. But, I couldn't. I was frozen.
And the whole Twerking thing? *shaking my head* We've been on the "Save the Twerkers" campaign for awhile now and she's on stage acting like she's the Original Twerker. (Not!) And she was PROUD!! Strutting across the stage in some ill-fitting fur mess that looked like she cut up an abused teddy bear and sewed it to her body.
(Sidenote: Still confused why Robin Thicke needed to be involved)
Surely, if she wanted to announce "Hannah Montana is dead!" she could've done it some other kind of way. It wasn't Sensory Overload, it was Sensory Harassment.
And did you happen to notice the audience? Not the fans jumping up and down around the stage, but the celebrities sitting in the crowd. They appeared to be just as stunned and frozen as I was. Even Rihanna, who is known for being risqué, looked confused.
I'm all for artistic expression and originality, but if they had a Moon Man for the "Go Sit Down Somewhere, You Look Goofy as Hell!" category...she'd win.
Some ideas just need to stay ideas.
Sunday, August 25, 2013
At the time, Hubs thought it would be a great idea to introduce her to Your Baby Can Read. Twice a day, for months, she'd watch the 15 minute DVD. There are some flashcards involved in the process, but I don't know what we were supposed to do with them. I guess we needed to look at the DVD Mommy and Daddy Need to Re-Read the Instructions. *ahem* One of us needed to read them for the first time. (Yeah, it was me)
Of course, we thought the DVDs were going to confirm what we already knew (she's super smart) and heighten her intelligence so much she'd be reading Tolstoy by the age of 2. Ok, Tolstoy was going too far, maybe Junie B. Jones was more of a reasonable goal?
Imagine my delight when she picked up a pencil and marked on a piece of paper shortly after watching the DVD. I just knew she was going to write out "baby" or "hi" because after constantly being repeated on the DVDs, something must have stuck. Instead, she proceeded to create some rather amazing artwork. (I know there's a market somewhere for awesome baby scribbles).
I offered some encouragement by holding her little hand and writing out her name.
"M," I said, and she responded with, "I." Had she said what I thought she said? I pressed on.
I said, "L," and she followed with, "A."
I said, "N," but she said nothing. I finished with, "I."
I drew a line under her name while speaking slowly, "Milani."
I was excited. How had she known the letters in her name? At that point, we'd never spelled her name out to her and I don't think anyone else had. I had to see if it was a fluke. I held her little hand and started over again.
"M," I said and she said, "I." My mom-o-meter shot up to Yes, my kid rocks! "L," I continued, but she said nothing. Probably because she was concentrating.
I sang, "A."
She said loud and clear with pride, "9!"
Upon hearing this, my mom-o-meter cracked up laughing, pointed to me and said, "You're an idiot!"
*shrugs* It's Your Baby Can Read not Your Baby Can Spell.
Saturday, August 24, 2013
...I'd stay at Norfolk State University instead of dropping out after my freshman year to live in San Diego...with Boyfriend #1. (Looonnng story)
...I'd not let Boyfriend #2 convince me to major in Business Management instead of Fashion Design when I finally went back to school at Virginia Commonwealth University (also his idea). Who incidentally was doing nothing with his degree. Go figure.
...I'd not switch from Business Management to Finance the following year. What was I thinking? I hated math. *rolling my eyes* If I wanted to switch, I should've went back to Fashion Design. Probably would've had a clearer goal and plan on what I wanted to do with myself.
Why these? Because all 3 snowballed into situations I wish I could've avoided. Hindsight and all that jazz. But, if I hadn't walked down those paths, know what I would have missed out on?
1) Meeting one of my besties at VCU
2) Meeting my daughter
3) Valuable lessons about people and life (boy did I!)
4) Meeting my hubby
5) Meeting my second daughter
6) Discovering writing was my talent and passion. (Had to get my material from somewhere *wink*)
If I could do it all over again...nah, no thanks.
Friday, August 23, 2013
Ah, our pal Rover. You will not buh-lieve what he's been up to...
Rover and his girl (we'll call her Lauren) have been in a relationship for more than a decade. Rover's never had a job, no car, no place to live, and has been in jail for years at a time. She spends her last so he can have whatever he wants. This behavior led to her losing a lot of residences in the past and yet, when she would find a place, she'd seek his approval. And yes, they do have a child together. She's put him out so many times that he's probably been "out" longer than he's been in. Sounds like the usual, right?
Here's where it gets crazy. You may be thinking, What! That's already crazy! Nope. Keep reading.
During one of their "off" moments, Rover started (yeah, right!) seeing another lady. For months straight, Lauren didn't hear from him, giving her just enough wiggle room to start thinking she could do without him. Then bam! He pops up with the same old tired lines that worked before. Done and done. He's back in.
But, he's not alone. He had the other lady secretly living with them in an unused part of the house. Yes, you read that right. Lauren would go to work and Rover and his boo roamed free. (Told you it got crazier.) Did Lauren put them both out? Yes.
I wish I could say she learned her lesson. I wish I could say that was her last straw. I wish I could say she was finally done.
I wish I could say he didn't try that stunt with the other lady again. But, I can't. Yup...he pulled this crap, not once, but twice!
Of course, Lauren goes ballistic (again!) and says to Rover, "You must think I'm a fool!" And she puts him out (again!).
Does anyone know what's wrong with Lauren's statement?
Girlfriend talk? Lauren, you ARE a fool (again!). See, that closing argument in the Court of Rover voids itself after the first time. Once you repeat the same actions over, and over, and over, you can't use it anymore. You can't play the victim card, you can't blame Rover. It's all on you honey.
My grandma used to say, "Don't ever let anyone make a fool out of you twice. The first time it's on them, the second time it's on you because you knew what they did the first time."
As pitifully sad and hella wrong it was for him to pull that stunt (twice!) It's your fault. You let him get away with his crap for years on end and you keep letting him come back. So, whatever he does when you let him back in, even something as low as shacking up with his girlfriend in your home, is YOUR fault.
Yes, Lauren, you are a fool for Rover.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
No. I'm talking about the ones who know better. Yeah, the cheaters, the manipulators, the plain old good for nothing kinda guys. They know their throwing crap out there in hopes someone will bite.
Ladies, what if we said stuff like this in return:
Do you have a boyfriend? (Yes) So. You can't have friends?
Oh. My. God. *clap excitingly* I'm sooo glad you said that. Me and Big Daddy have been looking for some new friends. *look him up and down like he's a Snickers* And I think he'd like you! *Whip out your phone* I'll call him right now. Don't worry you can use the safeword if the lube stops working for you.
Damn you fine! You need a real man to show you how a woman should be treated.
Yay, I hope that's you. The doctor just released me yesterday and said I'd be fine as long as I stay on my medication. *Then turn your head as if speaking to someone* Didn't he, Casey? Oh, I'm sorry. Casey this is....I'm sorry what's your name?
Hey! Yo! Come here and let me holla atcha.
Just repeat what he says: Hey! Yo! Come here and let me holla atcha. What's your name, girl? Haha, cute. Funny! Seriously, what's your name? Why are you doing that? Why are you repeating what I say? Yo, what's wrong with you?
If only, right ladies?
Monday, August 19, 2013
Sidenote: You must've never had a husband show up at your house like the Tooth Fairy, waiting to collect your teeth with his fist. If you did, you'd bury this line--quickly.
Way, to rack up brownie points buddy. *giant eye roll* How does you complaining (wait, let's just call it what it is--lying) about your girlfriend help your sorry case?
Feel that breeze? It's from all of the red flags waving. Let's count them shall we? (1) You're disrespectful to your girlfriend (2) You're a cheater (3) You're a liar (4) You're stupid (5) You think the girl you're trying to pull is stupid (6) See all of the above.
Smile. You’re Too Pretty to Frown
Guys, if she's worth your time don't use a lame pick-up line.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Saturday, August 17, 2013
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
I get it that some men zero in on the skin display like a cheetah on a gazelle. (FYI: Not all men are like that, nor do they find your sense of revealment attractive) And some women feel this is the only way they’ll get attention. I don’t care what any woman says, females like attention. (Stop looking sideways…you know you do.)
And we know the lovely Eartha Kitt said that famous line above in the movie Boomerang to Eddie Murphy's character, Marcus, after they spent a questionable night together.
But, she let him know something he didn't want to know. His face clearly read, "And why did I need to know that?" Same thing women are doing when they're sashaying around in crotch-skimmers. We don't want to know.
And for those who have their stomach, side flab, and back skin rolling out like the red carpet, you look like the letter "S" in a dress. Know what "S" stands for? Spanx. Get some.
Monday, August 12, 2013
Sunday, August 11, 2013
But, we moms are good at blocking out the havoc our kids create in the past.
The Beast, uh-I mean, The Baby turned two last month and still has birthday cake crumbs behind her ears. And boy is she gettin her Terrible Two's in! This little chick is walking around like she's up for an Oscar nomination for the role of The Brat.
Whining about everything, telling people, "No!" and "It's mine!", and acting like hard-headed is a sport. Got me thinking like 2 Chainz, "This one's different...yeah, this one's different." (I don't even listen to 2 Chainz...see what kids will make you do!)
Not in my house! I've got to step up my Mommy Game.
It's not extreme, yet, but this kid...wooo wee! We need an intervention and fast. And of course, my mom says, "Well, she just turned two."
By the way...what is it with grandparents and their "Leave that baby alone" thinking? Did they not raise us? Our kids aren't new mystical beings to be ooh-ed and ahh-ed at with a look-but-don't-touch kind of thinking. They are not that cute! And like someone once told me: "Yeah, keep on thinking 'Aw, they're just being kids.' When she steals your car out of your yard, don't come calling me."
Sorry...tangent. Back to what I was saying...
We went to Red Lobster and The Baby was that kid in the restaurant. Banging the salt and pepper shakers on the table. Drumming forks on the plate like she mixing beats for Timberland. Whining and crying. Sugar packets all on the floor. Sliding out of the booster seat. Trying to climb out of the booth while saying, "I weady to go."
And The Kid didn't miss a beat. She whipped out her iPod and hit the shutter button like the Paparazzi, capturing the embarassment.
X-Mom was shooting telepathic covered fireballs through her eyes saying, "Sitting over there acting like you ain't got no home training--you don't--but these people don't know that!"
She wanted to fly across the table with her hand raised, like Rickey Smiley talking about Precious and her grandma, saying, "Shut yo aaassss up!"
Oh, okay. We showing off like that? A few minutes ago, you sitting up there, all prim and proper, eating pieces of biscuit with a fork; baiting us in. Ten seconds later you morph into Lil Miss 'Bout to Get Her Head Taken Slam Off!'
She set us up.
Ten very, very deep breaths later X-Mom returned to her home and put Mommy back in charge. On a scale of 1-10: 1 being 'My Kid Makes Angels Jealous' and 10 being 'This Kid Gone Send Me to Jail' she was about a 4. So, it actually wasn't that bad. It could've been worse.
Hold up. She's over there all snuggled up under Hubs and trying to erase his memory of the restaurant with her cuteness. He's weak! I've gotta go.
X-Mom just showed up with an Anti-Cuteness Shield. Hmph...The Baby reign is over.
Saturday, August 10, 2013
We always tell our ten-year-old if you know you've put everything within your being into something and all you get is average, then hey, that's good. It's better to give your all and get average, then half-ass and be subpar. (At least in my book, it is)
Only because you know you went "all in". If you half-ass, then you don't know what results you really could've had.
But, everyday can't and won't be an A-game day. As my hubby eloquently put it this morning, "You can't paint a Rembrandt everyday."
Sometimes "all in" still doesn't give you the warm and fuzzies that comes with producing something beyond great. And it's okay. There are times where your effort trumps the result.
Last night, my brain searched feverishly inside my writer's box for something to post for Day 10, while my computer mocked and harassed me with it's blank screen. But, here we are, words on the page...another day done.
It may not be a Rembrandt kinda day, but even he wasn't Rembrandt everyday.
Friday, August 9, 2013
There on your doorstep...smirking...is Fear.
It sucks up all of your confidence, swag, and ambition and replaces it with a full blown panic attack, that leaves you muttering to yourself: WTF am I doing? I can't handle this. It's too much!
Yeah, Fear is good at what it does. It almost got me today. Almost.
Then, I remembered one of my favorite quotes from Iyanla Vanzant:
"Don't give up five minutes before your miracle."
Whenever I feel Fear creeping up like a parasitic vine, I remember those words. I don't know where the writing world is going to lead me, but I don't want to give up before I find out either.
Imagine the biggest opportunity of your dreams lining itself up for you right this minute and its scheduled to get to you on Tuesday, but you never receive it because you gave up on Monday.
I'm not saying Fear won't be back, it's sneaky like that. But, when it's on your doorstep sneering and asking, "What the eff are you doing?"
Say, "I'll tell you when my miracle comes in." And slam the door.
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
I wrote yesterday's post Tiny Speck the night before trying to get ahead. That was the idea, but if you're a parent you know sometimes the kids don't play fair.
Both of my girls woke up sick yesterday morning. The Kid had a pounding headache to the point she was crying. And The Baby was running a fever, but you wouldn't have known it the way she was bouncing around. About an hour later, they reversed roles. The Kid was feeling better after a nap and The Baby crashed.
This is the first time both of them have been sick at the same time--well, The Baby's only 2, so I guess I need to wait a few years before I get that Mommy Sticker.
Different symptoms, same diagnosis. Which ailment got the spotlight? Strep Throat.
Between running to the pharmacy with two sick kids (twice, because the first time it wasn't ready), administering two different antibiotics because The Baby is allergic to the one The Kid has (the one that goes in the fridge is twice a day, the one that doesn't go in the fridge is once a day), snuggling with a human furnace all day (Mommy hugs are the other antibiotic)...whew! I'm glad I wrote Tiny Speck the night before. If I hadn't, this Mommy would've been huddled in the closet sucking her thumb, refusing to come out until either my blog had some ink on it or the kids were better--whichever one came first.
From now on, I'm blogging ahead.
And that Strep Throat better not even THINK about getting on me. You don't want none of this X-Mom!
Sunday, August 4, 2013
Saturday, August 3, 2013
As cars inched forward I saw an empty school bus trying to pull onto the street and you know no one was going to let the guy in. I stopped and let him get in front of me and probably irritated quite a few people in the process.
But come on. Traffic was already moving at turtle-speed, what was the harm in letting the bus in? He was simply trying to get to wherever he had to go just like the rest of us. He just happened to be doing it in a vehicle the size of a building.
He gave me the "Thank you" wave and eased in front of me. He crawled along, waving his hand out of the window until I realized he was signaling for me to go around him. I was a bit confused and thought: Why would he pull out just to let me in front of him?
I shrugged and pulled around, thanking him as I passed. I thought maybe it was something wrong with the bus or maybe he just wanted to pull over and let people pass. The stream of cars stretched pretty far back.
I looked in the rear view mirror to see if he had let anyone else get in front of him (answer: no) when I saw the infamous blinking red lights and Stop sign swinging out. I looked over and there waiting on the sidewalk of the neighborhood elementary school was a line of kids, maybe about 20 or so.
I zoomed on my way as the loooong line of drivers behind him waited for the loooong line of eager, bouncy kids to board. Wow, I thought to myself, thanks Mr. Bus Driver!
I guess a little act of kindness does go a long way.
Friday, August 2, 2013
I could wish and imagine that people will magically come to my site and love it so much they'll spread the word like the flu and wham--agents are scrambling to sign me and publishing houses are throwing contracts at me because they all think I've got "it".
Pfft! I know you never know, but really? Time to change it up.
I joined this wonderfully, fantabulous site for bloggers: www.blackbloggersconnect.com and I'm soooo glad i did. It feels so good to have people you've never met read your work AND like it. Within 8 hours of me joining, I had 58 views of my profile, several fellow bloggers visit this site and comment either here or at BBC, and 1 person is even following this blog now.
58 people may not be astronomical numbers for some blogs, but 58 people now know me and my blog exist. 1 more person thought enough of my blog to follow it. All because I chose to jump into a larger pool than the one I'd been doggy-paddling in.
All because I did something different.