Well…. Not people so much as their selfishness.

Innately inconsiderate, self-centered beings. I want to cry. I want to scream and curse the error of their ways into their spirit, but that will never work.

People are so selfish that my two best friends – and by best, I mean the two who know the most of my business – both repeatedly tell me I need to be more selfish. Be MORE selfish?




I fucking hate people.

5yo Nailla was signed out of school by someone in Muslim garb claiming to be her mother.

Today, people are outraged.

Yesterday, those same people were having fits when being asked to show identification and follow protocol. 

In a culture where parents are disrespectful, of course the staff isn’t going to put up a fight in every situation. If I ask, “May I see your ID, ma’am?” and she gets aggravated, “the fuck I gotta show ID for? I come up in here every got dam day. Blah, blah, blah,” and I KNOW there’s a 90% chance my boss is going to take the parent’s side and either embarrass or reprimand me (or both), because he is also intimidated by the loud, reckless parents, what incentive do I have to put my foot down? Not defending the actions of this staff by any means, but that is the culture you create when you disrespect the people whose job it is to care for your children.

Not only are your children losing out educationally because the teacher can’t control 30-something children who know their parents will side with them no matter what, but you are physically putting them in harm’s way.

The people who are such a huge part of your children’s lives need to be your very best friends. Grow up. For Naiilla’s sake.







She veered a little toward angry at the end, but this is life.


Firsthand experience (which you probably already know):


Dude and I are BOTH unemployed.


I’m collecting unemployment, temping when I find work, and working whatever odd jobs I can find, including taking a two-hour bus ride to clean fish for $7/hour on weekends, and babysitting until 5 in the morning, begging and borrowing from my friends and family, while he literally brings home NOTHING.


After six months of giving him job leads, suggestions, and bus fare, week after week of fussing, fighting and crying, on top of paying every last one of the bills and feeding him – he couldn’t even be bothered with physically making the trip to buy the groceries, I put him out.


Everybody says I should have been more patient.



Secondhand story:


I have a girlfriend who lives with her boyfriend.

He comes home with girls’ numbers in his pocket, crazy texts popping up on his phone in the middle of the night, over the line flirting on social networks (he’s getting tagged in pictures hugged up on chicks at the bar, and having convos about “last night in the back seat of my car” on Twitter), catches attitudes with her if he finds her home when she’s not “supposed” to be there – one day she got off of work early, so she dressed up in the french maid costume & he flipped out on her for being at home – but she has the kool-aid coursing through her veins and believes it’s on her to make it work.


I have to console her every week, every month, then watch her go back to “but most women would just be happy to have a man at all, so I have to make this work.”


And it’s always the raggedy niggas who do the shittiest things to their girls, saying things like, “don’t go listening to your angry girlfriends.”



I smile at her, and I take off my clothes for you. I wait for you. I watch for you. My whole life is you. I can’t breathe because I’m waiting for you. You own me. You control me. I belong to you.


*throws hands up and walks away*

He’s married.

There were two things I planned to do/change in sync with the trip to Cali, and, well, I’m going to do them anyway.

But, I can’t talk about them, because, well, we see my pattern of not following through with the things I announce, right? (See, diet & exercise. Also, relocating to LA.)


Yesterday, I got that call from the recruiter about the one job, and have that interview coming up on Thursday.

Today, when I got home from therapy, I found a voicemail from another recruiter, but when I called her back, I got voicemail, and I haven’t yet heard back from her.

A few minutes later, I got a phone call that I thought was her, but it wasn’t her. It was a woman I interviewed with on July 12th. The job isn’t paying quite as much as I would like, but I can live with it. Everything else about it – location, job title, atmosphere – is what was on my checklist. I start Monday.

No more California dreamin’ for now.

Did I mention that life is funny?

Life is funny.

I’ve started packing. Yesterday I put out two bags of whatever I’ve been hoarding in the trash. One of my besties came and took like four grocery bags worth of stuff last night (clothes, shoes, household goods). I’m finally wrapping my head around the idea of leaving.

About 20 minutes ago, I got a call from a recruiter with whom I’ve worked in the past. I’ve been on eight interviews (ok, maybe there were only six or seven) with this one company – none of which resulted in a job offer for me – and now they want me to come in to meet a different hiring manager. She all but promised me the job, as if this one last interview is merely a formality.

The interview is next Thursday. Nine days before my one-way flight to Los Angeles.

My head is spinning. If I get the job, everything changes.


I’m taking my talents to Hollywood.

Love and employment have all but forsaken me, so it’s time for a new beginning.

On August 11, my laptop and I will board a jetliner with a duffel bag full of clothes and probably cry. I am quite a loner, but my friends and family have always been only a Septa ride away. By the time I reach my layover in Phoenix, I expect anxiety and optimism to be warring for control of my brain.

Monday, August 13, I have an interview at a placement agency at 2pm, and I’ve just last night submitted my resume at both ESPN and BET.

*fingers crossed*

One upon a time

I was a fool

In love

With a fool

Aquarius meets Gemini. THIS guy was my closest friend and confidant since we met in 2001. We talked every day. About everything under the sun.

He broke my heart in August 2007 when he revealed that he was having a child. We were never in a relationship – had never so much as kissed – so I had no right to be angry. But, my heart dropped to the floor of my stomach like it was dropped off the edge of a high-rise and shattered into a dozen shards. I felt physical pain. I thought I was permanently damaged.

Vesta Williams played in my head. “Congratulations; I thought it would have been me.”

I made my peace with him and we became friends again.

It was a difficult time for him, because the relationship had already ended. I was there for him, like I had been for the past six years. But it hurt like hell.

I told him I loved him because I did. I didn’t expect him to question my motives, though.

On August 25, 2007, he asked me why did I love him. And I said I didn’t know. Then, after the conversation ended, I wrote him a list.

We made a brief attempt at a relationship in the summer of 2009 that didn’t end well. But, again, I couldn’t be mad at his reasons, and I made my peace with him, and things went back to normal.

In November 2009, I made friends with an old acquaintance I’d made in 2005. Thank you, Twitter. I thought the world of him and tried to hook him up with my sister. I couldn’t be that girl pursuing this younger guy, especially since I suspected he had dated at least one of my friends. Also, he was very… he was too damn goody two-shoes for me. I had a potty mouth and smoked cigarettes, both of which I knew to be big no-no’s in his book. Not that he knew either of these things. My sister was the good girl. The church girl. Church, Work, School, Repeat.

He had other plans, though. Told me he always liked me and scrapped the idea of dating my sister. He was a million miles away from me (opposite coasts), so I didn’t take it seriously. He was going though something physically – surgery, recovery, rehab – and we kind of bonded with all of his free time and my very flexible schedule. All-nighters on the phone. Skype. BBM.

On January 7, 2010, he responded to my playful, friendly, “lololol, I love you” with a question, “Do you love me, or are you IN love with me?” We had never even discussed dating, just fell into this pattern of constant communication and expressed adoration. But, in the split second after he asked, it hit me like a bolt of lightning. “Both.” After a long, deafening pause (do you know how it feels to say “I’m in love with you,” and get no response for 90 seconds?) he revealed his feelings for me. “Over all this time, [mushy mushy mushy], I want to see where this vibe takes us.” I’ve written about THAT guy before. Guy #2.

In April 2010, he broke my heart even worse than THIS guy did, when he revealed he was going to marry his son’s mom for very noble reasons. I couldn’t be mad – we had never been on a date or even kissed because of our distance. But this time, instead of my heart shattering, it was ripped from my chest and a gaping, aching hole was left in its stead.

Again, I made my peace and wrote a letter, which I may or may not have published in this blog, and, after he read it, we became friends.

After I got over my pain, I realized they together taught me a lesson. They proved to me that my capacity to love will never be broken. I can fall again. Because I did fall again. I am grateful for learning that my love, though all-consuming, will never be broken. I do not hold our situations against anyone else. I am not bitter, as evidenced by the fact that I fell again after heartbreak.

But THIS guy… He fell back from our friendship when I got involved with THAT guy. He always told me he would take his bow when I fell in love and he kept his word. He watched from a distance while our very public and very secret romance bloomed.

He is a strange, unpredictable creature. He displays his vulnerability, but will deny it to the very end. He makes small gestures that are evidence of his feelings – he has voluntarily rescued me more than once, always calls me or surprises me on my birthday, that kiss on the forehead when I run into him on the street, and when he sees me talking “too close” with another man, he creates subtle displays of jealousy. But, to ask him, he has “no emotions.”

Confront him, and he will express his feelings. “I love you. I love your smile. I love your sense of humor. I love your physical beauty. I love your inner beauty. I love who you are as a person. I love who you are as a woman. I love how strong you are. I love how delicate you are. I care about you a lot. I worry about you. I am protective of you. I want the best for you. I wish you had a better support system. I think your time for greatness is coming because you deserve it.”

Then he says, “As I get older, my circle grows smaller. You have been a key part of that circle for over 10 years now. I can’t risk losing your friendship if our relationship doesn’t work out.”

Then, as I change the subject as only a Gemini can, he follows it up with “I don’t have any emotions. Nothing makes me happy, nothing makes me sad, nothing makes me angry, and that worries me.”

It is bullshit because he can be very passionate, but it bothers me that he thinks this way.

Then, we have this exact conversation 45 minutes later… Him, nonchalant as fuck, “I’ma get married when I’m 40 or 45.” Me, jealous as fuck, “What the fuck is that? You’re getting married in 10 years??? WHO?!?!?!” Him, amused as fuck, “What?” Me, entertained and alarmed as fuck, “WHO?!? WHO are you going to marry?” Him, pensive, then nonchalant, “You.”

He irks my soul.

He needs time to find himself. All I pray is that he finds the right one. Which I’m sure won’t be me because I am over the game.

This, however, is not about hating him. Which I tell him often, and he always responds with “It’s a thin line between love and hate.” And I tell him that one day he is going to push me too far over that line and there will be no coming back. And he replies, “never,” EVERY SINGLE TIME.

But, this is not about that. This… is about… wanting the feeling he used to give me. The feeling he evokes now is not the same. My infatuation peaked around the time of this list. He doesn’t give me butterflies anymore, and half of these things either no longer excite me, or no longer occur. Some of them, I just don’t even know what the hell they meant anymore.

I was innocent back then. He was obsessed with me in the innocently curious way a young child chases butterflies. I was obsessed with the feeling in the chase.

I want it back. The feeling. Not that relationship with him.

I don’t hold my future love to this standard because I know it will be different, and hopefully, greater, but I would kill to be that girl again.

Nevertheless, for nostalgia’s sake… and unedited, against my better judgement and narcissistic need to make myself look less… in love.

August 25, 2007

You asked why I love you as though you weren’t aware that I did. How could you not know?

I love that you make me want to be perfect even though I know I don’t have to be afraid to be imperfect in your presence.

I love that you are hard on me sometimes.

I love your concern.

I love that you show your passion every once in a while.

I love that you see me at my worst – drunk, emotional, scared, hurt, angry, and/or without makeup, lol – and don’t run from it.

I love that in a room (or outdoor club, lol) full of people who want my attention, yours is the only attention I want – and that I can get that attention.

I love that I don’t have to be anybody but me in front of you.

I love that I want to fk you til one of us passes out. 😀

I love that I can picture still being completely charmed by you when I’m 100.

I love your smile.

I love your eyes.

I love that you think you’re fly. 😉

I love your laugh.

I love that you notice when I cut my hair.

I love that you noticed that my ears turn red when I blush. I sooooo love that!

I love that you like when I smile.

I love that you give me butterflies.

I love that I can’t stop smiling when you look at me.

I love that I feel like you’re looking into me instead of at me.

I love that you think you know me. Lol

I love that you know me so freaking well!

I love that you can be profound, intelligent and completely obnoxious all in one breath.

I love that I am so ridiculously attracted to you.

I love that you turn me on.

I love that you know you do and you do it on purpose.

I love that you wear shorts.

I love that you cracked me UP telling your boy that I bit you last night.

I love that you get a kick out of my little ego strokes. 🙂

I love that you told kitten not to scratch me.

I love that you always smell so good.

I love that all the stresses of my life completely disappear whenever you are hugging me.

I love that I am not afraid to tell you all this mushy ish. Lol

I love the sound of your heartbeat.

I love that you make me feel completely safe and completely vulnerable at the same time.

I love that you bought me a drink on your birthday. lol

I love that you keep an eye on me.

I love that you like to debate.

I love that you are a competent debater. 🙂

I love that you have never made me feel incompetent… even w/your Slow Unit jokes. lol

I love the way you say my name.

I love the look on your face last night. I still can’t believe you said that, but the look on your face was enough to prove you right.

I love that you would probably wear my ass out.

I love that you make me oh so weak sometimes.

I love when you call me baby girl.

I love that you get all up in my face even though I’ve warned you about that ish. lol

I love that you encourage me.

I love that I actually notice the days I don’t see you or talk to you.

I love that you say I like thick and dark even though we both know what I like… lol

I love that you say I have groupies and that there is always someone in my ear. lol

I love that you know my feelings and I don’t feel threatened by that.

I love that you can read me like a book.

I love that you know things other people wouldn’t understand even if I spelled it out for them.

I love that you are always right. lol. Usually.

I love that you make me want to make you happy.

I love that you always have something to say when someone is in my personal space.

I love that you invade my thoughts, dreams and daydreams on a rather regular basis.

I love that you call my bluff. lol

I love when you play with my hair.

I love when you grabbed my hair.

I love when you move my hair to see if my ears are red.

I love that you did my brackets for me when I was doing the NCAA pool last year.

I love that you’re protective.

I love that just knowing you restores my faith when I need it.

I love that you think you’re funny. :p

I love that you think I’m funny. lol

I love that you said you were happy when I said you were popping in my mind.

I love that you know when I’m smiling as I type. lol

I love that you think I got game.

I love that you want to know why I love you.

I love that you want me to tell you what you do to me when you already know. lol

I love that you say you don’t know what I see in you.

I love that you flatter me incessantly.

I love that you remembered my birthday before I mentioned it. 🙂

I love that you tell me you are happy for me when I share good news with you.

I love that you said “tuff girl draws” lmao

I love that you care.

I love that you give me good advice.

I love that you said something… and it was so not-profound it actually made me remark. lol

I love that you make me want to bite you for some odd reason. SORRY!!!

I love that you make yourself out to be so big and bad even though you’re not.

I love that I have to restrain myself from touching your lips.

I love the feel of your hands on my skin.

I love how you manage to make me feel nervous and confident at the same time.

I love that you make me feel things I’ve never felt.

I love that you make me say thing I never thought I would say (the x-rated ish as well as the sappy ish).

I love the sound of your voice.

I love that you make my heart race.

I love that I was able to fluster you once. lol

I love that I chose this list over going out tonight.

I love that you remember details of when you first met me.

I love that a little voice in the back of my head screams for me to keep my distance from you but I’m still drawn like a magnet.

I love that there are a thousand songs that remind me of you which means I think of you often.

I love when you are authoritative (I think that’s the right word).

I love that you had an eye on me when Johanna was sitting on your lap at Reef. lol

I love that you gave me the most awesome hug ever at Fat Tuesday. lol

I love how you look in your work clothes. 🙂

I love that you are confident but not repulsive.

I love the eCard you sent me for my bday!

I love that I want you to know all of this so bad that I’m fighting sleep and restlessness to sit here and add to the list. lol

I love that I have a million more reasons why I love your azz.

Groupies, gold diggers, famewhores, etc…

It’s always been my policy not to judge people. I’m not gon’ say I DON’T judge people, but my rule is not to judge them. At least not from afar. I mean, some things are spelled out and if you ain’t shit, me saying you ain’t shit is not judging; It is calling a spade an ain’t shit spade.

And it works out well considering I’m generally detached (allegedly) and indifferent (admittedly). I don’t go around minding people’s business, and if their business comes to me, I still have the mental capacity to stand back and say, “there must have been a good reason.” Suffice it to say, people who haven’t another friend in the world tend to gravitate my way. That brings a set of problems all its own, but generally, they aren’t bad people.

But, I digress. Sort of. I know from experience what it’s like to be judged, so…


First, it’s usually some wannabe who’s mad they’re not in [insert celeb here]’s circle that is bestowing the label.

Second, who are you to judge who [insert celeb here] chooses to spend his or her time and/or money with?

Third, do you know the alleged groupie to know that her goal is deliberately to “get with a celebrity?”

Like, it’s one thing to see half-nekkid hoes camped out in the lobby of the hotel where the ballers are residing for the night. In that instance, label away. Preferably not aloud. Also, get out of dodge before you’re guilty by association if you’re a woman, or labeled a broke-ass hater if you’re a dude.

Aside from that, have a seat.

What do you really know when you see two people together?

Sometimes they are old friends. Celebs are people, too, and they have “people.” People who grew up in the same area, or went to the same school, or their parents were friends, or they dated in their hometown, or for whatever reason, their lives intersected. Were they supposed to fall off and dump their friends when they got famous or rich?

That’s stupid. And to make it personal, I’ve been there.

In school, it was the athletes. They were my people. My friends were athletes and their friends became my friends. We hit it off cuz we were equally uninterested in being scholars, and I was the one they trusted with… everything. Money, property, scandals. Everything. When they went out, I was invited. When they stayed in, I was invited. There was always a rumor floating around about who I was fucking, and I was a virgin!

But, when I was carrying on a secret teenage love affair with someone relatively famous and undeniably wealthy, everyone thought we were just friends. People’s judgement ain’t shit and they should remember that.

Out here in the real grown-up world that strangely resembles high school… I’ve had plenty of people, both friends and strangers, question why I’m seen with this rich guy or that local celeb. *shrug* We’re friends. Sometimes it’s business, sometimes we need a heart-to-heart, sometimes it’s old friends making peace, sometimes we wanna get shit-faced in trusted company. Call me what you want, but if you do, I will remind you that there is no sex involved. That makes me a groupie, how?

If you wanna see a groupie, let me introduce you to this self-proclaimed “Boss Bitch” I know who pretends it’s all business, but is really just pressed to be associated with certain people. Spends her days name dropping, her evenings leveraging her friends to see who they can introduce her to, and her nights screwing everyone who has a Wikipedia page.

Then there’s people who just LIKE a certain celeb but not cuz he’s rich or famous. I’ve always said that because fame puts you in the public eye, famous you is always gonna have more people checking for you than you would if  your notoriety didn’t extend past your block. When you’re on, you’re on. People see you, and people get used to you, and people who would otherwise never have seen your face or known your name begin to like you. Granted, many are wooed by the lights and lured by the lifestyle, but sometimes people simply fall for what they perceive the person to be.

Case in point, I love me some Nnamdi Asomugha. I’ve never met that man, and I wouldn’t know anything about him if he weren’t famous. But, based on the few profiles/bios and interviews I’ve seen, you can’t tell me there’s anything bad about that man. His smile is everything and he looks like he smells good, plus he seems smart, and appears to be a good person. A perfect candidate to be my future something or other. That doesn’t mean I’m going out of my way to meet him, or throwing my panties at him if I see him, but I get all dreamy-eyed when he’s on my TV.

Speaking of athletes, I have a girlfriend who, in college… well, they were her twist. I’m not gon call her a groupie just cuz she likes em tall and muscular, and is therefore always crushing on a basketball player or one of the taller football players. If I were to call her a groupie, it would be because she admittedly gauged her interest by their level of popularity and systematically took em down. lol. See, there are some people who do these things deliberately, and others who just appear to be up to something.

I don’t judge, though. We became friends cuz I was always around and she was always around – clearly for different reasons, and, well, when I tell you I don’t mind other people’s business, I don’t. I try to learn why, but I don’t say she’s a horrible person for doing what she did. She had fun, they had fun, I don’t need the details.

On the other hand, I had a former friend who was the golden child and everyone thought she could do no wrong, but she was literally sleeping in her boyfriend’s teammate’s bed. So, you know, there’s always more than meets the eye.

Speaking of more than meets the eye, why are you mad at me cuz he’s seen with me? Whether I was a waitress, a stripper, or Halle fucking Berry, why would dating a rich person or a famous person make me a gold-digging fame whore? Maybe we were set up on a blind date. Maybe he walked into my store or whatever other place of business and saw something he liked. Am I to ignore him just because he’s in somebody’s limelight? Eff that. Everything’s fair in the name of love.

On the other hand, what if I started out with intentions of being a gold-digging fame whore and once I got to know my target, I fell in love with him? Love will change every damn thing. Unless I confide my story in you and it is indeed all bad, you have no grounds to make that judgment.

Even the Kim K’s and Amber Roses of the world have a back story that should be considered before you label them whatever you choose to call them. How did they get so close to whoever they were linked to in the first place? How does a common background, or something in common, period, establish her ill-intent?

If he brought her into his fancy little world, and when they were done, she wound up with someone else in that circle, it doesn’t mean that was her “plan.” That’s just the way the cookie crumbles. You meet people, you date people, you make it work, or you move on. Depending on how long y’all were together, or how deeply you were pulled into “that” world, you probably don’t just move to a farm in Nebraska when you break up.

You not gon’ hate me just cuz I date people whose names you recognize.  That doesn’t mean I was trying to stay in the limelight. If they’re dating, then break up, and the not-famous half of the pair did make a conscious decision to stay at that level, in their defense, having been exposed to life with an international superstar, why the hell would they wanna go back to dating Ray-Ray from up the block who can’t keep a job, anyway? I’m not mad.

Jealous, insecure, wanna-bes (both male and female) LOVE to bash someone’s character. Preferably someone well-known, and who doesn’t know them so there’s little chance of repercussion beyond a few seconds of infamy for having “beef.”

  • None
  • Najeema: I've got the same plans (and posterboard on my kitchen table) for a vision board. I'll share mine if you share yours, lol. Hoping you attract everythi
  • NVRGVUP: Love is where it's at!