In one week I'll be three.

Yey!!!

Over my terrible twos.

7 days!

I'm. So... Tired.

Tired of being angry.
Tired of being sad.
Tired of being down.
Tired of being frustrated.
Tired of being disrespected.

I'm tired of having to bank on my "me time" being interrupted.
Tired of people in my space.
Tired of my things being moved.
Tired of passive aggressive comments.
Tired of not communicating.

Tired of being discouraged.
Tired of being afraid to move forward.
Tired of not being able to explain what I'm feeling.
Of being unable to see through this fog.
Of going nowhere.

I'm tired.
Tired of...

I'm just tired.

When I look at my friends and force myself to focus on race, I find that most of them are white. To this I say "So what?" What is the big deal with a girl hanging out with more of the opposite race than her own? Why is there a quota on the amount of black people a black person should hang out with? And why do the select black people have to be a certain type of black to count? These questions were apart of my everyday life. I am a black, dark skinned, oreo, African American, whatever you want to call it...I'm not white. However, most of my friends (best friends) are. I have searched my soul to figure out why. Since everyone else has an opinion about it, it's time I answer the question for myself.


I enjoy the company of my friends. I like being able to laugh at the silliest of things. I love how they keep me grounded. While I am with them I don't have to be anything other than myself. Isn't that what friendship is about? Apparently not...I mean sure you want those qualities in your friends...just in those of the same race and ethnicity. Right?


Let's compare. When I hang out with the "certain" type of black person (the one that counts) I have to act as if I am in to rap music. I'm not. I have to get down with belittling myself and them with ridiculous put downs and terrible language. Don't get me wrong...I can cuss like a sailor at any given point. However in the long run that is not how I want to present myself. Everything I do has an affect on someone or something, whether I realize it or not. I don't want to leave that as a trail behind me. What good does that do?

I have always been a people pleaser. If I am going to be apart of a group I want to be one of the favorite members. It's my nature. When it comes down to the people I surround myself with, I want people to walk away thinking that I can hang with the best of them. Keeping my personal image in mind, that limits those that I want to be associated with.

I have received the same comment on more than one occasion. "Those white people don't care about you." To this I now say, "what do you know? You're blinded by hate." Refusing to accept that different race relationships are proof that people can love anyone. What is in that? Classifying an entire people as not being able to care about me. I don't understand why my crowd was so wrong. My brother and sister had white coaches and they never received that comment. What was so wrong with my friends? I didn't stay out with them until all hours of the night. I never had to sneak out to go see them. We weren't hanging around skipping school, drinking or smoking. Most, if not all, of my close friends were abstaining from sex until marriage. They kept me grounded in life not at home without phone privileges. We were the ones who graduated at the top of our class. They were the ones that had me put a filter on my disrespectful language. But they are the ones that don't care about me? Some of my best and favorite teachers that helped me excel were white. They knew be better than most. They encouraged me, nurtured me...but they don't care? Why are the people I am surrounded by the bad ones? They kept my performance in school top-notch. We enjoyed ourselves without fear that what we were doing would get us in trouble. Why are they're friends favored? The people who were smoking, drinking, having sex, pregnancies and abortions. Those that were being benched do to disrespectful behavior. That's the "certain" kind of black person to which I am supposed flock? That's the person that cares about me? The one who will sooner put me in a bad situation as look at me?That doesn't make any sense to me.


I know that there are some serious stereotypes in here. No particular race has an entire body that is one way. I know that. This is just a comparison of what I have in my life versus what I have been pointed toward. I don't like what I have myself become in order to enjoy myself with a predominantly black crowd. I just cannot find the correct black crowd that would count as black. People who have things in common with me are oreos. I don't get it.

Damn it! I've been blind-sighted by my freaking ovaries packing up my uterus and walking out.

For those who don't know, there are symptoms to being visited the curse. Moodiness, fatigue, headaches, cramps, and for some even nausea. Up until two days ago the only things that bothered me were cramps and mood swings. And by mood swings I mean being angry. It was practically a guarantee that I will show my claws. Some people cry and are sad...I'm a bitch. The world has pushed me too far and I will let all the motherfuckers know. You can fuck off 'cause I don't give a shit.

I felt that way up until two days ago. Ahh...blind-sighted. At my job. Taken over by the overwhelming sadness. I was dealing with one stupid return customer after another and then I realized that I was missing a package that should have been delivered two weeks ago. All of those things combined and I lost it. Started boo-hooing in the middle of the store. The crazy thing is that in the middle of it all I realized how irrational my tears were, crying over a package. There are worse things in the world, more important things and here I was crying over a package (and the fact that I hate my job, and the stupidity of the customers along with other annoyances). It was just a package, something that could be resolved.

The curse. If this ridiculous crying is a foresight to me pregnant than I really am not having children.

this is why I like comedies. I'm too high strung, take everything personally, and I can't get over the reality that movies aren't that far from what is really going on in the world.

Taken

Not the most adventurous action film out there...but now I'm so tightly wound that I can sit on coal produce a diamond. Shit. Overall, though, it was better than great. It's just that I wouldn't mind having someone here to say what my friends have taken to telling me when I try to debate the movie logic: It's suspended reality. *deep breath in, exhale*




I want to go see Star Trek again...fall for the impossible guy and have him fall back.

I have composed reading list for the year 2009. The books on my list range from classics to modern drama. Maybe one of two adventures and a splash of the supernatural. Things that I have read and have not read. Things to broaden my sub par vocabulary. Speaking of vocabulary, I like to know what a word means when I read. A joke can be missed if the vocab is beyond me and I have officially deemed my electronic dictionary lost. Dammit. I am going back and forth between taking my 1000pg dictionary with me everywhere or just not reading outside of the house until I replace the electronic dictionary. *sigh* Too many of my book are from a time when ppl cared about have a better than decent vocab...I will read but not understand. That is irritating.

I tried early in the game, without warming up to try and get through Arabian Nights...

I wasted nearly three months on it before I decided to move on. I'm just a little over half way through. Now, thanks to that book (that I will have to eventually go back and finish...it's just the way I am) I am now approaching the 6th month of the year with 22 of my 34 books to still read. Most of them the "classics" (long, dry, a hint of excitement mixed with ridiculous love stories...yes, I put myself through this voluntarily). I am beginning to wonder if I will get through them.

I want to be that girl.

That girl that sleeps sprawled across your chest.

That girl that you dream about when I'm not there.

That girl you automatically reach for in times of danger.

The one who completes your great day.

The one you turn to for any and everything.

The one you love to laugh with.

You always hold that girl.

You always know what that girl needs.

If I was that girl you would know that I need you.

-Jasmin

*said dryly*

I need you. I want you. Oh baby, oh baby.


*sigh*


I DON'T GET MYSELF...but I get the world that I choose to look at.

yeah, I don't know either.


*moans* I'm gonna go wash my dishes.

Boredom.

Rehang the clothes on the chrome hangers. Start up the steamer. Check on shoes that are drying in front of the space heater.

Boredom.

Steam pants. Steam shirt. Steam skirt. Do this over and over again.

Wonder why the associate is late again. Rush to get the phone. Take a chance and try to go to the bathroom. Fail...a customer walks in. Hurry and get to them.

Boredom.

Another phone call. Realize what day it is and that the associate is not scheduled to come in today.

Finally get the now dry shoes from in front of the space heater. Another customer. Try to take care of them as quickly and as cordially as possible. Finish steam job and waver between refolding shirts and redressing the manequins.

Boredom.

Go with redressing the mannequins.

Choose shirt. Choose bottom. Too many white shirts. That school doesn't have enough little kids. Windsor knot? Another shirt. Windsor knot! Tie the tie. Oxford or polo? Must take down traitor school. That pair of pants is too short. That skirt won't fit correctly. Pins. Pin this sleeve. Pin that skirt. Put a belt on and pin the pants to the shirt. Where did the school dress code binder go? Think that this will all need to be steamed.

Boredom.

Dream about the Disney college opportunity. Contemplate a dream job. Dream about the possibly non-existent vacation to Disney World.

Boss arrives. Lunch is here. Try to focus on the things that need to be done after lunch and not the fact that this job is the epitome of...

Boredom.