I spent all day being Helen Homemaker. It's funny what a brand new coffee table will inspire you to do.
Since my coworker Jeff Lindberg was on my mind, I decided to have Chipotle. I made it halfway through my burrito bol and decided to leave the rest for dinner.
Hours later, my internal dinner bell rang and I rushed to the fridge to enjoy Chipotle Part II. Greed made the refigerator door to close on my paper bowl, causing my delicious feast to fall on my newly hand scrubbed kitchen floor. Ha!
That's what I get for being so catty yesterday.
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
I'm not that shallow
I just feel like posting because my previous entry is so shallow.
An update....Let's see.
Ugandaman is driving me nuts and I've officially turned into one of those women.
My mother and I had an awesome time in DC. Photos to follow shortly.
A former partner in crime, and the other half of the most meaningful relationship I've had with a man who is not my father, is getting married. At first I was upset, replaying events in my head. Finally, I mustered up the nerve to call and congratulate him.
The conversation resolved two very important things for me:
1. There was a reason we were such good friends. With the healing salve of time, I can place previous perceived injustices in a box and remember why he was my closest friend for several years.
2. My needs as a woman pushing 30 are quite different than my needs were at 23. As great as he is, if my friends introduced us now, I would never go after a relationship with him. I'm enough drama for two people, who needs to add an actor to the mix?
Well, maybe that's not entirely true. He is fine. However, right now I have my sights set on a banker, or a lawyer, or an accountant, or a contractor (I have a thing for tool belts), or someone who isn't determined to have a smoking career in entertainment. That's my schtick, and someone needs to buy the Dior and 7 jeans when I can't.
On a lighter note, I've lost 24 pounds and my hair is growing just fine.
hmmmm.......I wonder what the health curriculum covers in Uganda.....
Damn. Still shallow.
An update....Let's see.
Ugandaman is driving me nuts and I've officially turned into one of those women.
My mother and I had an awesome time in DC. Photos to follow shortly.
A former partner in crime, and the other half of the most meaningful relationship I've had with a man who is not my father, is getting married. At first I was upset, replaying events in my head. Finally, I mustered up the nerve to call and congratulate him.
The conversation resolved two very important things for me:
1. There was a reason we were such good friends. With the healing salve of time, I can place previous perceived injustices in a box and remember why he was my closest friend for several years.
2. My needs as a woman pushing 30 are quite different than my needs were at 23. As great as he is, if my friends introduced us now, I would never go after a relationship with him. I'm enough drama for two people, who needs to add an actor to the mix?
Well, maybe that's not entirely true. He is fine. However, right now I have my sights set on a banker, or a lawyer, or an accountant, or a contractor (I have a thing for tool belts), or someone who isn't determined to have a smoking career in entertainment. That's my schtick, and someone needs to buy the Dior and 7 jeans when I can't.
On a lighter note, I've lost 24 pounds and my hair is growing just fine.
hmmmm.......I wonder what the health curriculum covers in Uganda.....
Damn. Still shallow.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
I am so upset
I went to get my hair done yesterday.
The stylist offered me a trim. I told her I had one less than a month ago. She responded that it was a little jagged up top, but everything else looked fine. She would just do a little at the crown. I agreed.
Silly Me. This woman cut an inch off all of my hair (which wasn't that long to begin with) stating that she didn't know what the last person did, but she thought it was uneven. Now I can't pull it back at all and the ends hit right where I sweat. I work outside. I go to dance class. She couldn't have given me a WORSE haircut.
I've never really been this up in arms over hair, becuase it will grow back, but this time I'm PISSED!
I guess that's what I get for going to the salon on the day when most salons don't operate.
...and now...I'm off to work to swat at my neck all day.
The stylist offered me a trim. I told her I had one less than a month ago. She responded that it was a little jagged up top, but everything else looked fine. She would just do a little at the crown. I agreed.
Silly Me. This woman cut an inch off all of my hair (which wasn't that long to begin with) stating that she didn't know what the last person did, but she thought it was uneven. Now I can't pull it back at all and the ends hit right where I sweat. I work outside. I go to dance class. She couldn't have given me a WORSE haircut.
I've never really been this up in arms over hair, becuase it will grow back, but this time I'm PISSED!
I guess that's what I get for going to the salon on the day when most salons don't operate.
...and now...I'm off to work to swat at my neck all day.
Sunday, August 28, 2005
An Interesting Sunday
This morning my mother and I decided to play our Google game. We think of a person that we've lost touch with and we look for links about their current lives. During the course of the hunt, we start looking for different people and AIM a surprise link. Well, my mother won this morning with a link involving a former piano teacher of mine. (Smoking Gun items are always a tragedy. Click here for the Playbill Online article)
Some of you know the intense nature of the tri-state area performing arts scene for school-aged children. I had prayers, fortune cookies, and car seating all planned before the bi-weekly trip to Mrs. Ivanov's. A bad lesson was a catastrophe, and not because I was embarrassed or because I let myself down; this woman was scary. However, she was one of the best in the state. Her students went on to win many competitions, not just the one she ran. As a mediocre school student who is secretly (or not so secretly) very competitive, I wanted to be the best (during the hours that I didn't want to quit) and Mrs. Ivanov was the way to go. She pushed many students to be better pianists than they would've been otherwise. I don't know how much I can fault her for that. However, Carnegie Hall? Someone else’s student? That's a little much.
You can read other people's comments about the incident here.
After recovering from my hysterical laughter about the Ivanov/O'Lone incident, I prepared for my first day of soccer in 14 years. When I arrived there were women with ages ranging from 18 - 40. We scrimmaged. I defended aggressively. I kicked the ball down the field a few times. I fell. Twice. Then I left.
I think soccer will be interesting. It's completely different crowd than the entertainment group. They were fun and competitive, and I didn't feel huge either. These woman were sturdy and played hard (No Mom. "Sturdy" isn't my way of saying lesbian, although there were a few out on the field.). I walked away feeling excited about playing soccer. I also walked away extremely sore.
My sore aching muscles were just screaming for a trip to the hot tub. While I was there I ended getting into a discussion about politics. Most people in entertainment are usually liberal, and those who aren't keep it to themselves. I was quite alarmed to meet a group of people who were all pro-life. They assumed that I was too. I was ok with the assumption for about 5 minutes. Then I had to say something. The discussion became a ping-pong game between me and another guy. I knew I should've gotten out of the water as soon as he said his favorite channel is Fox News Network because the reporting is so fair.
Killer Katrina may have missed me, but there are still very scary things going on in Florida. Oh yeah, the guy is also a gun carrying member of the NRA.
Some of you know the intense nature of the tri-state area performing arts scene for school-aged children. I had prayers, fortune cookies, and car seating all planned before the bi-weekly trip to Mrs. Ivanov's. A bad lesson was a catastrophe, and not because I was embarrassed or because I let myself down; this woman was scary. However, she was one of the best in the state. Her students went on to win many competitions, not just the one she ran. As a mediocre school student who is secretly (or not so secretly) very competitive, I wanted to be the best (during the hours that I didn't want to quit) and Mrs. Ivanov was the way to go. She pushed many students to be better pianists than they would've been otherwise. I don't know how much I can fault her for that. However, Carnegie Hall? Someone else’s student? That's a little much.
You can read other people's comments about the incident here.
After recovering from my hysterical laughter about the Ivanov/O'Lone incident, I prepared for my first day of soccer in 14 years. When I arrived there were women with ages ranging from 18 - 40. We scrimmaged. I defended aggressively. I kicked the ball down the field a few times. I fell. Twice. Then I left.
I think soccer will be interesting. It's completely different crowd than the entertainment group. They were fun and competitive, and I didn't feel huge either. These woman were sturdy and played hard (No Mom. "Sturdy" isn't my way of saying lesbian, although there were a few out on the field.). I walked away feeling excited about playing soccer. I also walked away extremely sore.
My sore aching muscles were just screaming for a trip to the hot tub. While I was there I ended getting into a discussion about politics. Most people in entertainment are usually liberal, and those who aren't keep it to themselves. I was quite alarmed to meet a group of people who were all pro-life. They assumed that I was too. I was ok with the assumption for about 5 minutes. Then I had to say something. The discussion became a ping-pong game between me and another guy. I knew I should've gotten out of the water as soon as he said his favorite channel is Fox News Network because the reporting is so fair.
Killer Katrina may have missed me, but there are still very scary things going on in Florida. Oh yeah, the guy is also a gun carrying member of the NRA.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
I Love Macs!
Mac users with Tiger can follow this link to download Sudoku right on your desktop.
I will never do work on my computer again.
I will never do work on my computer again.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Wherever she lays her hat is her home....
Like most of America, I've had real estate on my brain for the past 12 months. Even though I have a place to live, I have real estate on my brain.
Yesterday, Julia and I were watching an episode of America's Open House. Most of the hour featured homes way beyond my means. I wondered how people afford to live in these homes. In some of the country’s more expensive cities $450k meant living in a shoebox. If the median income is around $42,000, how are people able to afford to live in any kind of house? How do I rise above living a modest existence and attain a piece of the American Dream for myself? (Stop buying Gucci Shoes would probably be a good place to start.)
Fast forward to this evening and an interesting conversation I had with one of my dearest friends. We were talking about getting out of graduate school with tons of debt and trying to figure out how to buy a house. During the course of the conversation, we talked about American Wages. I had no idea so many people made close to minimum wage. We then talked about how we perceive our material lives. How could it be possible to make more than 100k a year and not be able to provide a decent living for yourself, to not be able to buy a decent house?
I began to think about my meager existence, and I realized that meager is relative. I live like a pauper compared to an investment banker. However this year, 90% of Americans would have rather collected my paycheck than theirs. Was the plan to purchase, not to rent, upon leaving the tour? Sure, but in the Orlando market purchasing was a bigger risk than I was willing to take. However, my current financial situation is ok. I can pay my bills, I do not live paycheck to paycheck, and I have the freedom to buy designer handbags, while meeting my savings goals.
Will I be a millionaire by 30? Probably not. If I had made smarter choices, I would be on my way, however that fact is not on my list of major disappointments. Perhaps, knowing that my career would be in the performing arts from a very young age prepared me mentally for not having a big salary. I do worry about how I’m going to get my first house, but like most things I obsess about, I will figure out a way to make it happen. The first step? Remembering I will not be Philip Banks overnight. The second step? Turn off HGTV.
Yesterday, Julia and I were watching an episode of America's Open House. Most of the hour featured homes way beyond my means. I wondered how people afford to live in these homes. In some of the country’s more expensive cities $450k meant living in a shoebox. If the median income is around $42,000, how are people able to afford to live in any kind of house? How do I rise above living a modest existence and attain a piece of the American Dream for myself? (Stop buying Gucci Shoes would probably be a good place to start.)
Fast forward to this evening and an interesting conversation I had with one of my dearest friends. We were talking about getting out of graduate school with tons of debt and trying to figure out how to buy a house. During the course of the conversation, we talked about American Wages. I had no idea so many people made close to minimum wage. We then talked about how we perceive our material lives. How could it be possible to make more than 100k a year and not be able to provide a decent living for yourself, to not be able to buy a decent house?
I began to think about my meager existence, and I realized that meager is relative. I live like a pauper compared to an investment banker. However this year, 90% of Americans would have rather collected my paycheck than theirs. Was the plan to purchase, not to rent, upon leaving the tour? Sure, but in the Orlando market purchasing was a bigger risk than I was willing to take. However, my current financial situation is ok. I can pay my bills, I do not live paycheck to paycheck, and I have the freedom to buy designer handbags, while meeting my savings goals.
Will I be a millionaire by 30? Probably not. If I had made smarter choices, I would be on my way, however that fact is not on my list of major disappointments. Perhaps, knowing that my career would be in the performing arts from a very young age prepared me mentally for not having a big salary. I do worry about how I’m going to get my first house, but like most things I obsess about, I will figure out a way to make it happen. The first step? Remembering I will not be Philip Banks overnight. The second step? Turn off HGTV.
Sunday, August 21, 2005
So it's been awhile
It's been a month since my last post. So many things have happened.
I left the tour and took up residence in Orlando. I'm sitting in bed surfing the web and I can see the fireworks out over my balcony.
Relief. Instead of being in my resort style apartment watching the display from my bedroom I could be in a musty basement seeing real people explode instead.
I must take a moment to appreciate my blessings.
And now, back to mindless surfing.
I left the tour and took up residence in Orlando. I'm sitting in bed surfing the web and I can see the fireworks out over my balcony.
Relief. Instead of being in my resort style apartment watching the display from my bedroom I could be in a musty basement seeing real people explode instead.
I must take a moment to appreciate my blessings.
And now, back to mindless surfing.
Sunday, July 31, 2005
I Need You to Need Me
My second to last day at Little Shop was filled with excitement. The day began with my mother and her book group coming to see the Matinee.
The author of the month was Debra Dickerson. It was quite fitting that the front page of Salon featured a piece written by her. The topic? Black women's sexuality in America.
Sounds kind of selacious, it wasn't at all. That's the problem. Every black woman that I know has experienced one of the things described in the article (read it here). Invisible. That's how I feel at times.
Fast forward a few hours. The moms are gone, and James and I are headed to the clubs.
The evening was filled with desperation. The black men were desperate to catch one of the scores of white girls dancing suggestively while they imbibed. The black women were desperate for any kind of attention. Any at all. What's new.
James and I had a great evening. I even have war wounds to prove it.
The author of the month was Debra Dickerson. It was quite fitting that the front page of Salon featured a piece written by her. The topic? Black women's sexuality in America.
Sounds kind of selacious, it wasn't at all. That's the problem. Every black woman that I know has experienced one of the things described in the article (read it here). Invisible. That's how I feel at times.
Fast forward a few hours. The moms are gone, and James and I are headed to the clubs.
The evening was filled with desperation. The black men were desperate to catch one of the scores of white girls dancing suggestively while they imbibed. The black women were desperate for any kind of attention. Any at all. What's new.
James and I had a great evening. I even have war wounds to prove it.
Saturday, July 23, 2005
I'm going to Kentucky and we're going go to the Carnival....
A dream is a wish your heart makes, and The Butterfly has a ton of heart. For the past 3 years she has wanted to come to Kentucky and go to the carnival. This year, Julia finally took her. I went along for the ride eventhough my face was seriously messed up, I wouldn't have missed Deja's return to the carnival for anything.
Click here for photos.
Friday, July 22, 2005
Oh Happy Day!
Today was a great day. I received the best news I've heard in a really long time.
In addition, Rachel Kiwi turned me on to a new puzzle.
Mom, don't follow this link, it will only make you crazy.
In addition, Rachel Kiwi turned me on to a new puzzle.
Mom, don't follow this link, it will only make you crazy.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
But She's Homeless....
Lisa Stansfield is not singing about me anymore.
I am no longer homeless. I will no longer receive strange looks from bouncers and rental car agents wondering how I have a Flordia driver's license with a New York address. In fact my time at rental car counters will be limited as well.
This must be the single woman's nesting phase.
So, Carole, Janelle, Lya, Gwen & Lisa and anyone who's opened their homes during one of my many periods of homelessness: You are welcome to stay in my apartment whenever you like.
Ahhh....A bed, a door, an address.
The American Dream
I am no longer homeless. I will no longer receive strange looks from bouncers and rental car agents wondering how I have a Flordia driver's license with a New York address. In fact my time at rental car counters will be limited as well.
This must be the single woman's nesting phase.
So, Carole, Janelle, Lya, Gwen & Lisa and anyone who's opened their homes during one of my many periods of homelessness: You are welcome to stay in my apartment whenever you like.
Ahhh....A bed, a door, an address.
The American Dream
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Milwaukee is not that bad
I'll be honest. I was dreading the trip to Milwaukee. However, fate was on my side.
Two major events were in town the second week in July: Summerfest, the country's largest music festival, and the NAACP National Convention.
How did I get so lucky? Every single night there were friendly black people in every restaurant and bar in the city. I even had the chance to pay back a co-worker for an unforgotten uncomfortable racial situation. HA!
The picture is a little blurry,
Two major events were in town the second week in July: Summerfest, the country's largest music festival, and the NAACP National Convention.
How did I get so lucky? Every single night there were friendly black people in every restaurant and bar in the city. I even had the chance to pay back a co-worker for an unforgotten uncomfortable racial situation. HA!
In addition, Fantasia Barrino was performing at Summerfest. I managed to wrestle my way to the 3rd row. Carrie who? Ruben what? Fantasia is the American idol.
The picture is a little blurry,but that's her.
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
July 4th Continued
Gucci wasn't the only reason my 4th of July was special this year.
This year I met a charming young man who was out on the town with his godmother for 4th of July fireworks at the Navy Pier. So in honor Mr. Charles Bredford, I am posting a few of his photographs.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Gucci=Independence
Anyone who knows me well, knows that I talk to my mother every single day.
For the past 10 years or so, the July 4th conversation begins with either one of us saying, "What's 4th of July to a slave?!" Of course this is our bastardized version of the Frederick Douglas speech delivered to the Rochester Ladies Anti-Slavery Society.
We usually have a good laugh and talk about all the ways we actually are free.
This year was different. This Monday morning my mother was in the 4th of July spirit. I don't know if it was the fact that The Butterfly was at her house or that one of her best friends was moving into her first house. There were no "slaves weren't celebrating" jokes. In fact, I was in pretty high spirits. Knowing that my life was going to change shortly brought on such glee that I didn't need to make jokes. I wanted to buy new clothes to go with my new attitude. The plan was to meet up with James. The location? Gucci.
During my stay in Chicago, I had a tumultuous relationship with Gucci.
The first time I went into the store I was curious. I went in with Iris and James after seeing some of the company members’ purchases. The store was emotionally overwhelming to me. Beautiful handbags, clothing and shoes, many things emblazoned with signature Gs, however, the thought of paying $800 to be a walking advertisment was very hard for me to wrap my mind around. While browsing, the store went from half empty to full; most of the shoppers were black. There were shoppers who clearly had money; there were also shoppers that I questioned their financial stability. Did these people own houses? Did they have savings? None of my business, but I wondered. I walked into the store with my deflated self-worth and walked out knowing I had saved a down payment for a house and that was more important to me than any designer handbag. I was on my high horse.
So on Independence Day, with renewed confidence knowing that "the call" was behind me, I went into the Gucci Store to talk James out of gross consumption. While I was waiting for him to come to my conclusion (which he did), I spotted a pair of shoes. No way a girl with flat wide feet could get into a pair of Gucci shoes. Right?
By the time I left Gucci, I felt like a million bucks. Have you ever had on a pair of Gucci Shoes? I went from feeling like another nameless overweight black woman to feeling like Naomi Campbell in 2 seconds. What did I do? I bought the shoes.
They were a congratulatory Independence Day present. This July 4th, I came out of the deep self-loathing period I was experiencing. I knew that my life was going to change for the better, and my personal independence from the circumstances that were troubling to me would be behind me in a short time.
Maybe that is what Gucci means to everyone.
For the past 10 years or so, the July 4th conversation begins with either one of us saying, "What's 4th of July to a slave?!" Of course this is our bastardized version of the Frederick Douglas speech delivered to the Rochester Ladies Anti-Slavery Society.
We usually have a good laugh and talk about all the ways we actually are free.
This year was different. This Monday morning my mother was in the 4th of July spirit. I don't know if it was the fact that The Butterfly was at her house or that one of her best friends was moving into her first house. There were no "slaves weren't celebrating" jokes. In fact, I was in pretty high spirits. Knowing that my life was going to change shortly brought on such glee that I didn't need to make jokes. I wanted to buy new clothes to go with my new attitude. The plan was to meet up with James. The location? Gucci.
During my stay in Chicago, I had a tumultuous relationship with Gucci.
The first time I went into the store I was curious. I went in with Iris and James after seeing some of the company members’ purchases. The store was emotionally overwhelming to me. Beautiful handbags, clothing and shoes, many things emblazoned with signature Gs, however, the thought of paying $800 to be a walking advertisment was very hard for me to wrap my mind around. While browsing, the store went from half empty to full; most of the shoppers were black. There were shoppers who clearly had money; there were also shoppers that I questioned their financial stability. Did these people own houses? Did they have savings? None of my business, but I wondered. I walked into the store with my deflated self-worth and walked out knowing I had saved a down payment for a house and that was more important to me than any designer handbag. I was on my high horse.
So on Independence Day, with renewed confidence knowing that "the call" was behind me, I went into the Gucci Store to talk James out of gross consumption. While I was waiting for him to come to my conclusion (which he did), I spotted a pair of shoes. No way a girl with flat wide feet could get into a pair of Gucci shoes. Right?
By the time I left Gucci, I felt like a million bucks. Have you ever had on a pair of Gucci Shoes? I went from feeling like another nameless overweight black woman to feeling like Naomi Campbell in 2 seconds. What did I do? I bought the shoes.
They were a congratulatory Independence Day present. This July 4th, I came out of the deep self-loathing period I was experiencing. I knew that my life was going to change for the better, and my personal independence from the circumstances that were troubling to me would be behind me in a short time.
Maybe that is what Gucci means to everyone.
This is definitely an after picture.
Friday, July 01, 2005
The Angel Butterfly
Here's a picture of The Butterfly. Julia hates the other picture on this page, so I thought I would post this one too.
She's so sweet.
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