iluvu2much

I love you too much
To let you hurt me again
Though leaving you is
Like walking in the wind
I can’t return
Or turn around
Or let this wall
I build come down
For you, at least
I love me too much
To not find peace
That piece of me
I got rid of
When I gave
You my love

When I gave you my love
When I gave you my love

I love you too much
To let you hurt me again
Though leaving you is
Like walking in the wind
I can’t return
Or turn around
Or let this wall
I build come down
For you, at least
I love me too much
To not find peace
That piece of me
I got rid of
When I gave
You my love

When I gave you my love
When I gave you my love

Every second is getting harder
Moving further
From the one thing that I thought
I needed
And I’m tired
Of the waiting
Around for what
I truly feel I deserve
(When I gave you my love)
But you never told me
One word
(When I gave you my love)
That would make me feel
Comfortable
(When I gave you my love)
I just wanted to be more, babe

Oh
Oh oooh oh oh

I'm Over It

Bye-bye 2008!

And good riddance. While you had your high moments, and I thoroughly enjoyed my travels, revelations and wild times, I must say this: I am over you. Don’t get me wrong. Visiting DC four times in one year was amazing: First, to see my beloved sorority undergraduate chapter celebrate a glorious birthday; Second, to watch one of my dearest friends (“Denise”) graduate; Third, to party again with sorority sisters – hailing from all corners of the country – for our anniversary; and finally, to celebrate a REAL Homecoming. Though other colleges near and far attempt to match the beast of an event that my Alma Mater has created… our annual festivities remain unparalleled.

All-Star Weekend in the picturesque, cultural haven that is New Orleans was a memorable weekend to say the least. “The Taste” in Chicago for the 4th was a bundle of fun, food and fireworks tied together somewhat haphazardly with a red, white and blue bow (I’m thinking the Everclear did that). Adopting a new mentee has been both challenging and enlightening. While I’m sometimes frustrated by societal conditions that have made programs like “Big Brothers Big Sisters” even necessary, I can’t help but smile to myself when I witness even the smallest difference in Ruby’s speech, behavior or attitude. I’m making a difference in her life. That is empowering and incredible and shocking all at once. It feels good.

Witnessing HISTORY on November 4th was remarkable. Losing my job wasn’t much fun, but getting a new one in this downward spiraling economy could only have been an act of God. And, as I’m settling in to my new role, reflecting on the year I’ve had, and pondering about what’s ahead of me, I have reached a few striking conclusions.

1. Everything will be okay. I mean this in the broadest sense possible. If this year has taught me anything, it is just that. Things will work themselves out. So, sit tight. Grin. Bear it. And enjoy the ride.
2. Never make someone a priority when they only consider you as an option. Never make someone a priority when they only consider you as an option.
Never make someone a priority when they ONLY CONSIDER YOU AS AN OPTION.
3. Friends and family are the collective most important support system you will ever have. You inherit your family, but you pick your friends. Choose wisely.
4. Giving back is one of the most rewarding things you can do in life.
5. Never make someone a priority when they only consider you as an option.

I cried about points #2 and #5 last night. Just as the boy and I had reached our “comfortable place” he makes a careless and thoughtless remark about having purchased David Yurman jewelry for his former girlfriend during their courtship. Now, here comes the super-girly, somewhat irrational me, so get ready: WHAT THE HELL?! Don’t tell me shit like that. You know how I feel about that entire debacle, and yet you still manager to unconsciously bring her up. I get it!

We talked/dated/what-have-you for over a year, but you never wanted to commit. I graduate and all of the sudden… Ta-da! Your commitment-phobia has lapsed and you’re in a relationship. You guys break up (of course you do, because she’s a dirty, slutty whore) and what do you know… you and I miraculously become friends again. But wait, that commitment-phobia has reared its ugly little head again, and you have politely placed my in the “friend” box… FOREVER. I get it.

Am I not good enough? Did those years in undergrad, and the months we’re putting in now not count? Do we need a title for you to do nice things for me? I am worth it, you know. But sheesh! I mean, I can’t even get you to drive three hours down I-75 to see me, yet you were willing to spend hundreds of dollars on her? I’m confused, and irritated, and hurt. How come you started with me... and then rebounded with me... and yet I reap none of the same benefits as that little hussy? Huh?

What further compounds my frustration is that my brother and his girlfriend were all goo-goo ga-ga over Christmas break, buying each other extravagant gifts and planning extravagant trips for New Years, his birthday, Spring Break, and his graduation. Can I please meet someone who loves me enough to do nice things for me?

To be honest, what really bugs me is how much this bugs me. I mean, this situation, in its entirety “is like 100 years old” (to quote Jennifer Aniston from Oprah last week (y’all know I love that woman)). And yet, it still gets to me… like a tiny bug that seems to have crawled under my skin and begun nesting. It’s enough to make a girl go crazy.

On top of that (which didn’t help one bit), is the fact that I ran into said “former girlfriend” at a holiday party held by my prophyte last night. I couldn’t tell if she had on her David Yurman jewelry because I couldn’t stand to look at her for longer than three seconds at a time. Ugh.

I’m OVER IT! I’m over feeling like this! I’m over you and your dumb-ass decisions and our pretty little friendship that’s going nowhere fast. You are no longer a priority in my life. So you, and your stupid problems, and your David Yurman receipts, and your trashy ex-girlfriend, and your silly remarks, and your “keep-her-in-the-friendship-box” mentality can KICK ROCKS.

I’m over it.

We Can't Have It All

I got waitlisted for an MBA Prep Program today.

It was a program that I had been really enthusiastic about to begin with. I told all of my other B-School prospect friends to apply as well. I anticipated all of us getting in, and traveling the country together for seminars, panel discussions and campus visits - all through this saving grace of a program. But, I got waitlisted. I'm happy for those who made it in (per my recommendation to apply) and will proceed to prepare for the GMAT, but I must admit: I'm bummed.

The boy and I had a slight back-and-forth via gchat today as well. Now that I've begun working again, my body is in the process of re-adjusting to work hours. Needless to say, last night, after a brief phone convo with him, I slept like a baby. Today, in our typical day-long chat session, I mentioned as much. He, however, has had trouble sleeping over the past few nights. He couldn't tell me why he's had trouble sleeping, though. He anticipated that I would "start acting weird" if he told me the details. I was tempted to press him about it, but I elected not to. I believe he knows me well enough. If he thinks I'll be upset over something he dreamed about, he's probably right.

But wait a minute. The only thing I've ever truly been "upset" about when it comes to him is another female. So, he's dreaming about other females, huh? Should I be annoyed by that? I am. I'm even more so annoyed by the fact that, just last week, we were going back-and-forth about how well we REALLY know each other. He tries to hide behind this illusive facade, making himself seem more introspective/complicated/mysterious than he actually is. That's not to say that he doesn't possess those qualities... but I peep them. And, I recognize the degree to which he possesses each trait. Like: you are a pensive guy and I LOVE that about you... but you're also extremely reactive. I'm just saying. After years of dealing with a person you learn their nuances... and mannerisms... pet peeves, habits, quirks, colloquialisms and the like. If you're like me, you get to the point where you can practically finish a guy's sentences. You can look in his eyes and know what he's thinking (but not mind read (because there's a difference)). It's not about being cocky, and thinking you know it all. It's about being thorough in understanding him (to the point that you naturally anticipate his words and actions).

After that particular argument, his concluding words to me had been: "you don't know me as well as you think you do." OH. Okay. But in THIS debate, you already know how I'll respond to your dreams? You "know" me; but I don't "know" you. Interesting.

Finally, today, I received a somewhat overdue email from a hiring manager today. She was "regretting to inform me" that someone had already filled a position for which I recently interviewed. Someone from HR had already told me as much, but I appreciated that the manager would reach out on her own. Because it's good form (and because I'd already secured another position and could finally bear some professional criticism without crying) I replied, inquiring as to why I hadn't been offered the position. After all, the resume is always a work in progress. We could all stand to do better - regardless of where we stand in the world. HER response, though, completely rubbed me the wrong way. She referenced how I could have been more "assertive" in my previous role by "taking ownership" of projects and doing "more that what was required" in my position.

HAVE WE MET?!

I can give you a plethora of projects and references that all attest to my abilities. I am the quintessence of everything you just said! I owned more projects than any other entry-level employee I knew at the time! I was diligent in all work efforts, and consistently did more than was EVER required of me! My boss, and my boss's boss could and would tell you this any day of the week! Are. You. Serious. ??

It's clear: we CANNOT have it all. We won't always get the recognition we have earned (even when our accomplishments sing loud and clear). We won't make it into every single program to which we apply. The unspoken love in our life won't always be able to share his dreams with us. And sometimes, we'll earn gainful employment with one group, while losing an opportunity with another (that pays less and is managed by someone who makes poor wording decisions in virtual correspondence).

But, we CAN count our blessings. We have our new job. Our goals are still in tact and we can pursue business school without the assistance of some program. We are learning to let things go, no matter how bothersome. We have our dear friends (who prevent us from sending hasty response e-mails). And we have Neapolitan Ice Cream to soothe our souls after long and trying days.

So, for now at least, I can settle for "most".

X&Y

Trying hard to speak and
Fighting with my weak hand
Driven to distraction
It's all part of the plan
When something is broken
And you try to fix it
Trying to repair it
Any way you can

I dive in at the deep end
You become my best friend
I want to love you
But I don't know if I can
I know something is broken
And I'm trying to fix it
Trying to repair it
Any way I can

You and me are floating on a tidal wave
Together
You and me are drifting into outer space
Together
And singing...

You and me are floating on a tidal wave
Together
You and me are drifting into outer space
Together

You and me are floating on a tidal wave
Together
You and me are drifting into outer space
Together
And singing...

Something in the Water

There's something odd taking place in the dating world lately.

I'm not dating any one person specifically. "The Boy" throws me for a loop about once a month, which is fine. Sometimes I throw salt in the game just to spice things up. Don't ask me why. I'm a female and I have trouble controlling my emotions/thoughts/actions sometimes. I'm working on it. Otherwise, he and I converse regularly and enjoy one another's virtual company. Clearly, he lives in a different state, and we rarely see each other. Thus, gchat and phone calls have to suffice for now.

When I'm thirsting for some platonic testosterone, however, my options are pretty limited. I have about four or five guy friends down here that I could call and kick it with pretty much anytime. I would consider each of these guys, legitimately, a "good friend". Though, candidly I don't really believe in platonic friendships... I believe that, in any guy-girl friendship, given ample time and opportunity, at least ONE member of the party would make a move on the other. It's biology.

So, yeah. Four or five guy friends down here... and that's about it. For concerts, sporting events, trips to the bar, and simple car problems, they're GREAT to have around. Whenever I meet a new guy, however, I get all kinds of irrational, overwhelming vibes. I'm in "chill mode" as it stands right now. Not really looking for a boyfriend. Not really interested in anything that requires nightly check-in phone calls, constant texting, incessant "hanging out", etc. Men can start to resemble children after awhile (if you pay enough attention). I'm good on that.

But for real though, dudes down here be trippin'. As soon as they figure out I'm legitimately into sports, I drink beer and I can carry on an intellectual conversation, they're in love. I'm not joking. And, I know Cece is reading this thinking 'this bitch is full of herself'... but I'M NOT! I'm telling the truth! Like, aren't the girls supposed to be the ones who catch feelings while dudes stay in the cut laughing and moving on? I'm so confused.

It is as though the roles in the courting phase have completely reversed. I've already lost one "guy friend" to this weird syndrome a number of young men seem to be experiencing. We were kicking it often, and I was enjoying every minute of it. Foreign films, NBA games, barhopping, exploration with --eh, botany. You name it. We were having a good time. After awhile though, I guess the signals got crossed and he got to thinking I was up for more than I really was. After a drunken convo and a three-second kiss, I had to tell him "I'm happy being single, and I consider you a friend." Wamp, wamp. Haven't heard from him since.

Anisa and I were discussing this the other day, and I'm convinced there is something in the water. For instance, she went out with a guy not too long ago who, after two separate encounters (1st - kissing at a house party; 2nd - a semi-charming date) proceeds to tell her "I know you're interested me, and I can really see us going places. I had no idea you were so smart," or something to that effect. Um, excuse me. WHAT did you just say? You thought I was some idiot cute face with a fat ass? (Anisa does have quite a nice booty, if I do say so myself -- no homo). You think that you're so whimsical and charming that I'm going to drop what I'm doing to be with you? You think you got it like that?! Huh?

In the same conversation, I told Anisa about a young man I'd recently met through a mutual friend. I'd been to his place to watch football, and we'd both attended a rally for an upcoming Senate run-off with a group of friends. He was cool, and I could see us hanging out more often... but as of today, dude is completely whilin'. He texts me on some "did I do something to make you mad, or are you just not feeling me? bc you haven't been responding to my texts." Sir, when we first met, I told you "I'm not looking for a boyfriend. I'm chillin'. Not much of a phone person, either. I'm good." We can definitely kick it, but please fall back with all these unfounded inquiries on the status of our "relationship". We are COOL. And, that's about it. I'm not pressed, by any means. Period.

Where is all this coming from? Can't we just be young and enjoy people for who they are? Can we not enjoy friendships as they stand? What is the rush? Can we have a second conversation before you ask about my relationship status? And in Anisa's case: can we have a third conversation before you practically propose marriage?!

Please. From now on, bottled water for everyone. For real. Dudes are actin' mad girly these days, and it's totally, utterly, and seriously NOT. CUTE.

The Weekender

Last week, I experienced the definition of "Best Weekend Ever"... or maybe, "Best Weekend In Awhile". It was one of those weekends where you happen to stumble into a good time at every turn. It was a weekend full of surprises - both good and bad.

Friday: After a long day of non-work, a new friend of mine came over to pre-game before the nights festivities. We had no concrete plans... we just wanted to see where the night would take us. We pre-gamed at my house and headed towards a trendy part of town full of bars and inexpensive restaurants. After a few $3 vodka martinis and light appetizers at one of my favorite tapas bars, we headed to a lounge in another popular part of town. Our friends were the party promoters and the event was free all night. After making our way into VIP we met a group of charming young men (most of them, at least), one of whom was drop-dead gorgeous. Slightly taller than me, scruffy mustache and beard, a hat that covered his face, and a charm that I hadn't encountered in awhile. He was so cute. He bought me a drink (after I teased him for babysitting his own), we danced a bit, and exchanged numbers. By 2:00 the lights were on and it was time for all of us to peace out. But my homegirl and I weren't tired. So, off to another venue to meet some of her guy friends from a local HBCU. Just as we're arriving to their party spot, the venue is clearing out. We're figuring out the next move and two of the three guys are playfully hitting on me already. I'm having a great time to say the least. But, it's time to go. What to do? Breakfast. We agree to meet at one guy's house for an early morning meal of pancakes, eggs and bacon. Yum.

In my drunken stupor, however, I end up drunk dialing the boy. All of these new boy-toy options, coupled with the fact that HE and I never discuss what's going on with us... well, it was starting to confuse me. I need clearly defined boundaries, rules and structure in my life. I need to be fully aware of what's going on at all times, so that I can behave (or misbehave) accordingly. It sounds vaguely narcissistic, but it's necessary! It's weird, too. In any other aspect of my life, I'm completely willing to go with the flow. With this young man, however, I'm irrational, overly pensive and always second-guessing. Though I value the relationship that I'm currently building with the boy, I need to know that we're on the same page. I need to know that we're respecting some sort of undefined boundaries though our "relationship" lacks a title and therefore requires no such thing. I'm telling you, the "boo" status never amounts to anything truly positive.

Our conversation results in absolutely nothing substantial, so I hang up the phone and head to breakfast. No need in brooding over something I cannot control or fix. After stuffing my face with carbs and sugar, I fall asleep on the couch with the two flirters. By 7:00 am my eyes crack open to rays on sunshine beaming through the blinds. It's time to go home. What a great night!

Saturday: After sleeping the day away, I head over to see the 4th bridesmaid, "Melanie". Melanie was the first person I met in college. We had the exact same major, we were both in the honors program, and at the time, we were both very uptight (while I eventually grew out of that, Mel still possesses the trait). Mel is from this city where we both currently reside, so to save money, she lives with her parents. Her dad was celebrating a birthday, so family friends were on their way. On top of that, I would be there, as would Melanie's "friend" who happened to be a boy. This young man, however, was not to be confused with a "boyfriend". Melanie, for whatever reason, was scared to death of using this title just yet.

Melanie's parents were great hosts and hilarious company. Her dad is a born comedian and her mom is a natural entertainer. He was telling jokes while she was playing songs on the piano. Between the hospitality, wonderful food and countless glasses of wine, I was content with the evening as it was. But there was more to come! After dinner, the non-boyfriend, Melanie and I headed downtown for more drinks at a local bar. We were meeting up with the non-boyfriend's friends to see what trouble we could get into. We ended up drinking pitchers of beer and playing flip-cup while watching football on several widescreens. I headed home on a full stomach, a full buzz, and a sore face from laughing so much. I slept well that night.

Sunday: Quality time with my "little sister/mentee" named "Ruby". I was running late (as usual) to pick her up, and thus, I was a little stressed. Her birthday had just passed, and I wanted to do something special for her as she celebrated ten years on earth. Ideally, I would have made it to her birthday party, but her mother neglected to tell me that the date and time had changed. Thus, I was left to my own devices and had to plan something else for us to do... Today would only be our second outing, and I wanted everything to go smoothly.

I picked her up and we went to church, which ended up being really inspirational for me. The message was very helpful and pertained exactly to my current work/emotional situation. Ruby, however, was less enthused. I guess when I was ten I found church a little drab too... ah well. Next, we went to dinner at Copeland's Cheesecake Factory. As we drove through the parking deck, and walked through various shops and restaurants to reach Copeland's, Ruby asked where we were. "Are we in a different country?" she asked. Wow. I frequented Atlantic Station on a regular basis. I shopped, ate and watched movies there all the time. I guess, though, this strip mall/neighborhood really was a stark contrast to the Section 8 housing projects in which she lived. Over dinner, she mentioned how much fun she was having, which made me smile. I mean, it was only church and dinner. But I guess, to her, it meant a lot.

We took a few pictures in front of the newly planted Christmas Tree before leaving. I guess Ruby had never played with a digital camera before, because she wanted to photograph everything. "I want to take pictures of this new country," she had said. While her morning and afternoon had been full of surprises and discovery, the evening would provide a doozy of a surprise for me.

As I dropped her off, and noted how quickly nighttime was approaching, I made subtle haste in getting back in my car to leave. No offense, but no one wants to be in an unfamiliar part of town at night... alone. I was pulling around the corner eyeing three young boys who appeared to be playing with something. What they were playing with is something I couldn't quite discern. I assumed it was a stick or something. But one last glance proved their toy was no stick at all... it wasn't even a toy, for that matter. Those boys were playing with a gun.

My shoulders sunk. My heart dropped. I shook my head. How tragic it was that my mentee was living in a neighborhood, in a community, where something so frightening could take place. These children had access to a gun. Loaded or not, the exposure in and of itself was dangerous. I considered going back to the apartment to inform her mom... but I imagined that she already knew things like this were going on around her. Who was I kidding? This was culture shock to me, and me only. I was a visitor in this neighborhood... and it was time for me to go home. But, I had my work cut out for me. I saw how much Ruby really needed me and I was looking forward to the challenge.

The Turkey and The Mouse

Family time is always time well spent.

Thursday morning we wake up, shower and get ready to drive to Grandma's house. As I'm placing my homemade desserts in a bag, my father asks for the keys to my car. He needs to load the cleaning/lawn supplies into my trunk before we leave. Before the big dinner, he had planned to rank my grandmother's leaves and do some housework that she couldn't otherwise do for herself. But,we were taking my car? Grr.

Okay. I hand him the keys, praying he doesn't see the half-empty Malibu bottle in my trunk. He then gets on the phone with a few of his subordinates to ensure that the day's work is getting done. (Poor souls have to work on Turkey Day!) As I walk outside, magazines in hand, I mentally prepare myself for a relaxing two-hour ride. My father, however, politely seats himself in the backseat, returns the keys to me, and continues his phone conversation. I clinched my jaw so hard, I'm pretty sure I need some sort of dental attention. What was GOING ON?! I did not sign up for this, and neither did poor little Jada. She needs $600 worth of work on her sad little crank pulley... or something. She can't drive all these long distances!!! WAAAAAHHHH!

Fine. I have Paris pull up driving directions on her BBerry and we make our way down the interstate. Once we arrive, my dad, uncle and cousins begin yard work, and I assist my aunts with cleaning and cooking. Though Grandma had intended to bake two Sweet Potato pies, the responsibility was inadvertently delegated to me through a series of one-step directions. "Just peel the potatoes for me," she had said. "Okay, now add a stick of butter and two eggs," she called out from the bedroom. "Alright, now add the sugar and a little vanilla," she added. Well, what do you know, after I had mixed the ingredients they were ready for the oven. Ha! Grandma was slick!

Meanwhile, all the yard work had made my father thirsty. His thirst, however, could not be quenched by water, or the countless sodas we already had in the house. No. He needed lemonade. And, he needed me to leave the house to go buy some. Oh! And some ice cream while I was out. Never mind the fact that he was lactose intolerant, or diabetic. Sweet lemonade and Breyer's Ice Cream were necessities today. Also, never mind the fact that I had yet to start working, and thus had no income. "He would pay me back." [I have yet to see the cash from that promise.]

Fast forward and the tables are set, pretty much everyone had arrived, and we're simply waiting for those pies to be ready. Paris is busy fixing Grandma's TV so that we can watch the game as we dine. After all, what is Thanksgiving without a football game to consume our attention? She had almost figured out the problem when I saw something scurry from behind the couch to the TV.


"PARIS, GET UP!" I yell. It had been too big to be a bug; too small to be an acceptable household pet. Ugh. I thought to myself. We had ourselves a mouse. "What?" she inquired. "There's a mouse!" I called, retreating to the nearest chair. I needed something to stand on. At that point, everyone was alert. There was lots of commotion as we figured out what to do next. The lift the couch. The mouse runs to the front door. My uncle attempts to - eh - stab him with a garden hoe. He fails. The mouse runs under the corner coffee table. Three grown men are unable to catch and dismember him. He runs towards the bathroom. Dead end. He runs under my chair. I scream. He runs under the stove... and stays. Despite the greatest efforts of my dad, and two cousins, he stays put. Mind you, the oven is still on, and those pies are still baking. I hear a faint squeal and determine that Mr. Mouse has died under that stove due to the 350 degree heat. Well I hope, for my grandmother's sake, that he died... otherwise, that's just disturbing.

Fast forward through dinner (which was delicious) and everyone is in clean-up mode. We're all making take-home tin pans full of leftovers, exchanging hugs and saying goodbyes. Daddy, was tired, and even though I too had been on my feet all day, I would have to drive home. (Does anybody see where I'm going with this? I mean, really. WTF?)

So, I drive home, making pit stops to drop off my uncle, and drive through the college campus of my father's alma mater. We make it back, pooped. Dad and Paris are leaving in the wee hours of the next morning. Paris wants to catch some Black Friday deals back in North Cack. I try to be a good daughter/sister and stay up so that I'm alert and helpful when they decide to head back... but that plan fails. I'm barely awake to hug them when they finally decide to go. I wind up sleeping Friday away just so I can recuperate from the previous two days' unexpected events. But, I'm not complaining.

Although I had missed my mom's presence, and hoped my little bro had had a good time with his girlfriend's family, my Thanksgiving turned out pretty great. Dad and Paris had been nice to have around, even if only for a few days... and by surprise, at that.

It's true. Family time is always time well spent.

Paris is My Favorite!

Family time is always time well spent.

However, when your family (half of it, at least) shows up at your door unexpectedly, well, that's still "time well spent"... it just means you have to adjust your mindset and realize that your apartment is no longer your own. Well, at least not for the next few days.

My father had said to me a few days prior that he "might" make it to town for Thanksgiving. I had already planned to stay put, seeing as how most of my aunts, uncles and cousins already live here. We would make a day-trip to see my grandmother on Thursday, and return that same evening. If Dad could make it down, that would be wonderful. But, I wasn't holding my breath.

Well, Tuesday afternoon, I'm busy texting my younger sister "Paris" who reveals to me that she and my father will be hitting the road shortly to drive down. Huh? "We were waiting on Mom, but I don't think she intends to come," Paris says. There's so much wrong with that statement, I don't know where to begin.

First, why hasn't my dad called to tell me that he did, indeed, decide to drive down for the holiday? Second, explain why my mother isn't coming and no one has been able to get in touch with her for hours? Third, where are the two of you planning to stay? Finally, when did anyone expect that I would be clued-in on these last-minute decisions?!

It's fine. They are my blood! Of course, I will accommodate them. Daddy can stay with his brother on one side of town, and I will bring my little sis to the apartment to kick it for a few days. This will be fun! Well, a few hours into their car ride, Paris texts again to say "Daddy says we're both staying with you. BTW, how long will you be up? We should get in around 1 am."

Thanks for the heads up!!

Okay, let me set up the futon so my dad has a place to sleep. I hope my roomie's BFF hadn't planned on spending the night (who am I kidding though? she LIVES here). I busy myself with Conan O'Brien until they finally arrive.

When they walk through the door, I am truly elated to see them. Though I had just been home a few weeks ago, it was great to hug and kiss both of them again. I was disappointed that Mom hadn't made the trip, but with all of these "last minute decisions" my father had made, she hadn't had the opportunity to change her existing plans. I understood.

The next morning, Dad was off to play golf with my uncles, leaving my sister and me to our own devices. Paris managed to sleep in until 2 o'clock. She probably would have slept later if I hadn't pounced on her - forcing her to get up, shower, and make plans with me for the day. We shopped, and made our way to Hooters for dinner (they have the BEST wings!!). It's amazing how much sisters have in common. While I bombarded her with questions about every single purchase (many of which she completely dismissed) and playfully chastised her when she ignored my questions... I clearly saw how much we actually had in common. We try not to concern ourselves with things that do not concern us. That's kind of rare among women. We both love sports and are comfortable in our own skin (hence the Hooters pick for dinner). We love music, we laugh easily, and sometimes find frustration in communicating with people with minimal intelligence. Like I said, family time is always time well spent.

When we got home, I made her a cocktail so we could watch the Carolina game and wrap gifts. That's what big sisters are for!! Her infectious laugh at my neurotic gift-wrapping techniques was soon followed by heated demands and long-drawn sighs hurled towards Carolina's starting line-up. She's a little imbalanced, my little sister. Eventually the evening ended and we headed to bed, knowing that Thanksgiving day was bound to be long.

I would soon find "long" to be a vast understatement.

A Living Example

All this free time is making me a little too introspective.

You know how, when you have a girlfriend who's really going through something, you feel like you have ALL THE ANSWERS? And, in all reality, you probably do. You've been exactly where she's been... you've thought and felt all of her same thoughts and feelings. That sentiment is especially poignant, however, when this girlfriend happens to be one of the bridesmaids (the only one with whom you spent your entire childhood), who has been there with you for this entire roller coaster ride we call "life".

"Corinne" and I met when I was four and she was three. My brother and I were the newest kids in our neighborhood. My mom and her dad worked at the same local university. We attended the same pre-school. Though I was one year ahead of her, I saw much of myself in all of her actions. Throughout elementary, middle and high school, we were honors students. We were also prima ballerinas who studied french and were overprotected by our parents. We graduated among few minorities in the top 10% of our graduating classes. We were active in student council; we both served as prom committee chair; and while I ran for Student Body president and lost (BY 19 VOTES!!!), she managed to clinch that victory the following year.

We may have been square, do-gooder, "girl-next-door" types in high school... but in college we were a mess. The saga of on-again-off-again relationships with men led to our formal declaration of love for one another... via Facebook. Corinne became my online wife (until I ultimately deleted my account (Facebook is the devil, you know)). I also managed to introduce Corinne to every vice known to man. Per my negative influence, Corinne soon strayed from her pedestal and began drinking... (the horror!) which was soon followed by experimentation with - eh - botany. And later, she discovered crayons and began coloring.

Unfortunately, the consequences of grown up decisions are often a graduated level of anguish and pain. And, while summertime may be long gone, I reminded Corinne that "Get Right" knows no season! It's never too late to start living your best life now. But there's so much more. Recovering from heartbreak is much like any other obstacle we encounter in life. The same ambition we used to run for student office; the same discipline we used to perform en pointe; and the same tenacity we had to graduate with honors must be applied to our personal hurdles as well. Moving on - moving UP, rather - from a dead-end relationship is really about completely changing your mentality. It's about completely changing your perspective. I am a living example... and it really does work.

You dedicate so much of your time, thoughts and energy to a guy, only to receive little (if anything) in return. Once you redirect that energy, however, life seems to completely turn itself around. Maybe the object of your affection re-enters your life later on down the line (which feels really, really great btw)... or maybe he doesn't. But the progress you make with yourself - by working out, and praying, and laughing with friends, and discovering new wine, and climbing up the career ladder - is PRICELESS. You wake up feeling better, you walk into class (or work) smiling. And while the void still may exist, you're confident because you know that, when the time is right, someone better will come along and have you asking yourself "why was I ever upset to begin with?" That is, until you watch "The Break Up" on USA... and then you remember EXACTLY why you were upset. But I digress.

The Single Aesthetic here: knowing that when you're in a position to help someone along a path you've already traveled, it is imperative you do so! Lifelong friendships cannot sustain themselves on the fun times alone. When your BFF needs you for the hard stuff - that's what really counts. Be a living example. (And honestly, if you're the one who introduced the bridesmaid to matches, it's your duty to help put out the fire!!)




I will do so gladly. Corinne, these are for you!

Wife!
I am on your side
Both for better and for worse
You can count on me!


His Body
I'll take care of it
Duct tape and a body bag
That should do the trick


Dook
Who would pick navy?
Over Carolina Blue?
Don't make no damn sense!

Trouble Sleeping

It's late and I'm feeling so tired
Having trouble sleeping
This constant compromise
Between thinking and breathing

Could it be I'm suffering
Because I'll never give in?
Won't say that I'm falling in love
Tell me I don't seem myself
Couldn't I blame something else?
(No, don't say it)
Don't say I'm falling in love

Some kind of therapy
Is all I need (all I need)
Please believe me (please believe me)
Some instant remedy
That can cure me completely

Could it be I'm suffering
Because I'll never give in?
Won't say that I'm falling in love
Tell me I don't seem myself
Couldn't I blame something else?
(No, don't say it)
Don't say I'm falling in love

[Don't you say I'm falling

There's no way I'm falling]

'Cause I've been there before and it's not enough
So nobody say it
Don't even say it
I ve got my eyes shut
Won't look, oh
No, I'm not in love

Could it be I'm suffering
Because I'll never give in?
Won't say that I'm falling in love
Tell me I don't seem myself
Couldn't I blame something else?
(No, don't say it)
Don't say I'm falling in love

A Word of Thanks

Hi family -

I wanted to wait until the news was "official" and now it finally is. Within the next two weeks, I will begin a permanent, full-time position with my old team as a Marketing Coordinator. My responsibilities (as they stand now) will be to coordinate and market all of our content online. Also, a little bird recently revealed that I may be working again with a newly created business that the company launched not too long ago. As many of you may remember, this was the highlight of my experience last year, so I look forward to having that opportunity again.

I would really like to thank each of you for all of your kind words, thoughts and prayers over the past few weeks. It really meant a lot to me. I have to thank my brother and my friends in TN for providing an escape during my first week of en-employment. Mommy - thanks for every single phone call, text message and e-mail (even if I stopped responding after awhile). And of course, THANK YOU CeCe for ONCE AGAIN coming through in the clutch and making things happen for me ;-) (you know what I mean!!).

I love you guys! Enjoy work and school while I spend the rest of my week in bed and/or at the gym.



With Love,
ME

The Break Up

Have you ever been digging through your old things and stumbled upon traces of the person you used to be? It might be an old journal or day planner... maybe some old photos. It might be an old college notebook with notes or doodles revealing something or someone that was consuming all of your thoughts at that point in time...

I was in clean-up mode a few minutes ago, and had to sit down to let some things simmer for a little while. I was reading through an old college notebook, and was immediately transported back to senior year in college. In retrospect, in the midst of all the soirees and spirits, the year was pretty painful. Everything I managed to write down regarding the boy dealt with the issue of trust - and how our "relationship" lacked it completely. I was always suspicious of his behavior and whereabouts. I was constantly holding my anger in and letting it get the best of me. I was always confused, upset, anxious, indignant or irate. What a way to live, right? It was neurosis at its finest.

I remember hearing (or perhaps reading) that the best reason to keep a journal when you're in pain is this: to remember exactly how you were feeling, so that you will never enter a situation that might re-create those feelings again. Basically, record rock bottom so that you don't hit it twice. After reading all of those poems, sad love song lyrics, day planner notes, journal entries, and random livid notebook quotes, I began to feel like my 22-year-old self again. I mean, not only had our "ending" been bad, but everything leading up to that fateful end had been catastrophic. The recollection of "rock bottom" started to become real again. So much so that I considered just ignoring his inevitable phone call tonight even though we're currently in a comfortable place. Not good. Why would I ignore his call tonight, after we've already made up for what happened three years ago?? [Look, this is him texting me now.] Anyway, in that moment, about thirty minutes ago, I had to place everything back where it belonged, and returned to my evening movie.

Coincidentally, "The Break Up" was on USA tonight... That happened to be the first movie I saw after the boy and I ended our thing. What I love about this movie is how realistic it is... and how, after all the hurtful things Gary and Brooke did to one another, there was still a possibility that they could get back together. The whirlwind of attacks, tears and destruction that took place, however, was all too familiar. When the the two weren't trying to internally sort out their feelings towards the other person, they were busy ruining any possibility of reconciliation. It was funny on screen... less so in real life. I loved Jennifer Aniston so much that, years later, I began wearing a ring on my index finger as a semi-tribute to her. "The Break Up" was, in part, a true-life story for that woman. And look at how resilient she managed to be in the process. Coincidence indeed.

Everything is fine. Good, even. But sometimes you just have to take a deep breath, I guess. I mean, WOW. Every female that has fallen for a man can surely relate. It's like, you're all into him again, and then it clicks: "this is what he as done in the past; this is what he is capable of." I know that people grow up and mature and improve themselves. I completely appreciate that. But, it's a matter of keeping things in perspective. To appreciate "growth" we must measure from the point of origin, correct? And man, to look at him now, and read the way I felt about him then - you'd think I was referencing two completely different people. I don't know. I guess the Single Aesthetic here is learning how to appreciate and learn from the past without letting it interfere with the present. Re-living those old experiences is only good for two things: smiles and/or tears. The former is great. The latter is for the birds.

Lions, Tigers and Bears

I'm not scared of lions and tigers and bears [oh no]
But I'm scared of [loving you]
I'm not scared to perform at a sold out affair [that's right]
But I'm scared of [loving you]
Am I the only one who thinks it's an impossible task?
Why it don't last? Is that too much to ask?
Why do we love Love, when Love seems to hate us?

Sorry if I sound so filled with gloom
You say you care and I know you do
But this is from my experience
And my conclusion only makes sense

Just cause I love you and you love me
It doesn't mean that we're meant to be
I can climb mountains, swim cross the seas
But the most frightening thing is you & me!

I'm not scared of lions and tigers and bears [oh no]
But I'm scared of [loving you]
I'm not scared to perform at a sold out affair [that's right]
But I'm scared of [loving you]
Am I the only one who thinks it's an impossible task?
Why it don't last? Is that too much to ask?
Why do we love Love, when Love seems to hate us?

Most circumstances I know my fate
But in this love thing, I don't get the game
Why does it feel like those who give in
They only wind up losing a friend?

Just cause I love you and you love me
It doesn't mean that we'll ever be
Fly cross the ocean, sing for the Queen
But the most frightening thing is you & me!

I'm not scared of lions and tigers and bears [oh no]
But I'm scared of [loving you]
I'm not scared to perform at a sold out affair [that's right]
But I'm scared of [loving you]
Am I the only one who thinks it's an impossible task?
Why it don't last? Is that too much to ask?
Why do we love Love, when Love seems to hate us?

I'm not sure no, I'm not sure
But if we never try we'll never know
It's better to have loved than not to love at all
But not trying is worse than to stumble and fall
And if we do?I'd rather it be with you
Cause at least there will be
Sweet memories

I'm not scared of lions and tigers and bears [oh no]
But I'm scared of [loving you]
I'm not scared to perform at a sold out affair [that's right]
But I'm scared of [loving you]
Am I the only one who thinks it's an impossible task?
Why it don't last? Is that too much to ask?
Why do we love Love, when Love seems to hate us?

The Master Plan

He won.

I had driven (very carefully) to TN to see Dionne. Tuesday, I spent the entire day cleaning, decorating and preparing food for her election party while she worked the polls. I washed and pin curled my hair while I waited for guests (and Dionne) to arrive. Around 7:30 pm people begin to show up, and CNN is on full blast in the living room. As states are called, we keep track in our own makeshift election center. Blue stars for states that Obama won, red stars for McCain. At around 10:50 pm, Dionne walks in with champagne. At 10:59 CNN begins a countdown. One minute until the west coast polls close. What is happening? I have no idea.


11:00 pm. Anderson Cooper announces that all polls have closed except for Hawaii and Alaska. It doesn't matter, though. Barack Obama is the 44th President-elect of the United States of America. Pop! Pop!! Pop!!!



My president is black; My Lambo is blue; And I'll be G-damned if my rims ain't too...

We had to rock Jeezy. WE HAD TO. My phone is vibrating in my back pocket, but it's so loud that I can't hear my father on the other end of the line. I'll have to call him back. We're toasting to Obama. Praise God! He won!

That's right. Praise God. Everybody put down your glass. We have to pray. And, I'd like to believe that, at that moment, rooms full of intelligent, young, black, (drunk) professionals across the country and world stopped what they were doing for just a moment to pray for the first African-American president of the US of A.

The following day was a blur, full of smiles, excitement, prayers and emotions. I was feeling like... like... everything was going to be alright. Granted, I was in the midst of personal uncertainty, but that was irrelevant. A bi-racial (but socially, viewed as "black") man raised in Hawaii who represented the south side of Chicago had just been named leader of the free world. If he could climb his way up to the highest, and most revered job in the land, then surely I could manage this comparatively minimal challenge in my life.

I will find another job. And, I will work two jobs - gladly - to achieve my goals. Clearly Obama had to hustle in order to get here. Thus, I will continue to grind. It's what we do. I can't wait to see what God's Master Plan is for Barack Obama. The next four years will surely be exciting. I'm also anxious to see what God has in store for me... hopefully within the next few days.



It's Progress.

$600 Oil Change

On Monday, I woke up feeling okay. I had just returned from a fun-filled Halloween weekend. I had gone home, seen my parents and younger sister, and endured a twelve-hour road trip with two of my closest friends. There's no place like home, and it was refreshing to have gone back, even if only for three days.

I woke feeling okay even though, technically, I was unemployed. It was my first official day without a job. And while, usually, I would have felt discouraged and sub-par... I was fine. I took my car to the Honda dealership for a routine oil change and tire rotation. Got back on the road to apply for some part-time jobs when I heard a faint squeaking noise. "It will go away," I thought to myself. I drove to Ann Taylor, Banana Republic and a few local restaurants to submit resumes. Even once I got back on my feet with a full-time gig, I would need supplemental income to fund my Business School applications and miscellaneous fees. I was on my grind. But that damn squeaking noise was getting on my nerves.

So, I took Jada (my car) back to the dealership. One of the mechanics hopped in to drive around with me so I could point out the noise. Hm. "Well," he said, "if we find that the noise is related to the work we just did, we'll repair it for free. However, if it's not, we'll need to do a diagnostic test to figure out what the problem is. $95.00."

Great. I don't have that kind of money, but I also can't afford to drive a malfunctioning vehicle. "Alright," I said. "Let's see what the problem is."

He comes back and - long story short - my "routine oil change" has turned into a $600 Crank Pulley Replacement. He tells me to go home and "think about it" but not to drive the car.

I drive alright... to the gym. To clear my head. But, as I turn off the car, I hear the lingering cricket-like sound of little Jada in pain. I re-start the engine and drive to the nearest Midas. I want a second opinion.

"Yup," the second mechanic confirms, "you need to get that replaced." Tears begin to well up. Why is this happening to me. I just lost my job. I'm under enough pressure as it is, and the one measly part I need to fix my car is $400 and can only be purchased through the dealership. Add labor and taxes to the bill, and you have yourself my rent and utilities for the month of December. What to do.

I return to Honda, and I can't even fight it. I'm boo-hoo crying in front of the kind old man who has greeted me three times in one single day. After an hour in the waiting room, someone comes in to confirm what I already know - I need a new, outrageously expensive part for my car. They will have to order it, and it will be in tomorrow. "Don't drive the car," are the mechanic's parting words. I drive home, deep in thought, pondering just how desperately I really need these repairs. If I weren't so damn AWARE all the time, I would have left the dealership and been on my merry way. And... how come I only heard the noise AFTER I brought the car in for another reason? I'm not necessarily a conspiracy theorist, but I do find it highly problematic that this "thing" that "has" to be done for my vehicle went undetected until I brought the vehicle back for closer inspection and can only be done at Honda, using expensive parts.

I thought about waiting until Tuesday to get the repairs done... and decided against it. "It still drives," I thought to myself. And with that, I packed my suitcase and headed far, far away from my apartment. I needed a vacation - a real one. I was going to see Dionne, and perhaps the boy. God willing, Jada would be able to get me there.

What do you know? She did. And, I'm starting to feel okay again.

Talk is Cheap

“What really gets me is this: you work hard, you play by the rules, but when you need help – really need help – they let you hang.”

~Shane Scott, LEVERAGE

I had the pleasure of previewing one of TNT’s newest shows, LEVERAGE, which premieres in December. In this particular episode, the most striking line (to me, at least) came from a guest actor as he spoke about the foreclosure on his house. He was a hardworking man, who had just returned from Iraq, only to discover that his home was no longer his. While I can’t imagine the grief associated with losing a home, I can completely relate to the utter disappointment of losing a job.

“You work hard and you play by the rules.” Evidently, that’s not the way to reach your goals. You have to trick people. Lie. Cheat. Steal. And even then, the road is uphill. When you’re in informational interviews, formal interviews, coffee breaks, company meetings and the like, compliments and pats on the back can mean the world. You leave feeling proud, accomplished and ready for your next hurdle. You feel like everything will be okay. People respond to you. They are impressed by your resume. They appreciate the way you carry yourself. They could easily see you working on their team. But, talk is cheap. All of those niceties are nothing without actionable backup. You say you would hire me if you could – but you can’t. Well, words don’t put food on the table. Actions do.

I’m no longer interested in dilly-dallying around with empty smiling faces. I need results. I understand that “this is business” and “the economy is down” which is why I’m sure you’ll appreciate my urgency and disregard of pleasantries moving forward. Are you the hiring manger? Let’s talk. No headcount? Moving on.

I don’t have time for this. I will resume “building relationships” when I have an f-ing job. I’m now applying for retail jobs and hostess gigs. Really? Really. This is what it has come to. Me, my degree, and my 2+ years of experience are back to the chalk board and starting from Square One?! I’m disappointed. I’m hurt. I’m confused. I’m exhausted. I’m frustrated. I have a headache.

Please don’t tell me what you’d “like to do” or what you “might do in the future.” What can you do for me now? At this moment. At this time. I have worked hard. I have played by the rules, and all I’m asking for is an opportunity. I need an opportunity to continue to work hard, and play by the rules… to pay my rent, pay my bills, and perhaps enjoy being twenty-four. I have been searching for a job since I graduated from college. This is absolutely bewildering to me. I am BEGGING. Can somebody please help me out.


Or, will I be left to hang?

Smile

Smile though your heart is aching
Smile even though its breaking
When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by
If you smile through your fear and sorrow
Smile and maybe tomorrow
You'll see the sun come shining through... for you

Light up your face with gladness
Hide every trace of sadness
Although a tear may be ever so near
That's the time you must keep on trying
Smile, whats the use of crying?
You'll find that life is still worthwhile
If you just smile

'Cause that's the time you must keep on trying
Smile, whats the use of crying?
You'll find that life is still worthwhile
If you just smile

It's For My Own Good!

I think God is preparing me for business school beyond my wildest comprehension. He’s doing so much to prepare me that He’s rendering me unemployed. Yup. God loves me SO MUCH that He’s taking away my job, and leaving me to fend for myself.

Think about it. In every major application or interview, the most troubling question (for me, anyway) is this: What major obstacles have you overcome? To be honest, I’ve never had a concrete answer for that one. I was blessed enough to grow up in a two-parent household. That, in and of itself, is increasingly rare in black families. I have a younger brother and sister who, just as I did, attend four-year universities. My brother will soon be graduating and working for a major engineering company. The contract has already been signed! I come from a blessed family.

I was also fortunate enough to attend college on a full scholarship. I joined many organizations and graduated Summa cum Laude. In all honestly, I’m completely blown away by the fact that I can’t find a job. But, that’s not the point. Evidently hard work isn’t everything. Playing by the rules isn't all it's cracked up to be. Networking isn’t everything. Intelligence isn’t important. Sometimes, despite a person's greatest efforts, failure still lingers on the horizon. That is the very problem, however. I'm still operating as though things should go according to "my plan". But the world does not operate according to my plan – it operates according to God’s.

So, when I begin the application process, and commence with preparing for interviews, I will finally have an answer to that age-old question. My biggest obstacle: being in-and-out of work for the past three years. Despite my academic, professional, and extra-curricular accomplishments, I have been unable to maintain a job for longer than eleven months at a time. Why? I have no idea. I’ve considered, perhaps, it was bad karma… but I’m pretty sure that’s not it. Steady work just isn’t in my cards, evidently.

I have begun calling on old contacts, and implementing my resourcefulness. I guess I could go to NY for a few weeks, mooch off of friends, and earn that good old day-player rate as a production assistant. I’m sure Law & Order:SVU has as Assistant Director who needs some coffee. I can fetch it for him with my bachelor’s degree! And, in the meantime, politely ask (taxpaying) native New Yorkers not to walk down a particular block because "we're trying to shoot a scene here." They love it when you say that.

Or, I could begin working at a local Aveda, like I did when I was back home during my “year off.” The economy may be broken and ruined, but people still need their hair cut!

I could wait tables again or perhaps bartend... Maybe I’ll just sell my soul to the devil. I wonder how much it’s worth. LOL. Just kidding! It’s not that bad. I’m enrolling at YALE in two years. I’ll simply loan my soul to the devil and buy it back from him (with interest) after I graduate. I’m sure an Ivy League degree will land me somewhere that pays enough for me to buy it back. Well, let me not say “sure.” Look where that has gotten me…

The Single Aesthetic: Losing my job for the sake of a good story and admissions to my dream school. Seems like a pretty fair trade to me!

All My Single Ladies

IF YOU LIKE IT, THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE PUT A RING ON IT.

Fall Anthem:

All the single ladies! (All the single ladies)
All the single ladies! (All the single ladies)
All the single ladies! (All the single ladies)
All the single ladies!

Now put your hands up!

Up in the club
We just broke up
I’m doin’ my own lil’ thing
You decided to dip
Now you wanna trip
Cause another brotha noticed me
I’m up on him
He up on me
Don’t pay him any attention
Got me cryin’ my tears
After three good years
You can’t be mad at me

Cause if you liked it, then you shoulda put a ring on it
If you liked it, then you shoulda put a ring on it
Don’t be mad once you see that he want it
If you liked it, then you shoulda put a ring on it

Uh oh oh, oh oh oh oh, oh oh, oh oh oh…

I got gloss on my lips
A man on my hips
Hug me tighter than my Dereon Jeans
Actin’ up
Drink in my cup
I can care less what you think
I need no permission
Did I mention?
Don’t pay him any attention
Cause you had your turn
Now you’re gonna learn
What it really feels like to miss me

Cause if you liked it, then you shoulda put a ring on it
If you liked it, then you shoulda put a ring on it
Don’t be mad once you see that he want it
If you liked it, then you shoulda put a ring on it

Uh oh oh, oh oh oh oh, oh oh, oh oh oh…

Don’t treat me to the things of the world
I’m not that kind of girl
Your love is what I prefer
What I deserve is a man that makes me
Then takes me and delivers me to a destiny
To infinity and beyond
Pull me into your arms
Say I’m the one you want
If you don’t, you’ll be alone
And like a ghost
I’ll be gone

All the single ladies! (All the single ladies)
All the single ladies! (All the single ladies)
All the single ladies! (All the single ladies)
All the single ladies!
Now put your hands up

Uh oh oh, oh oh oh oh, oh oh, oh oh oh…

Cause if you liked it, then you shoulda put a ring on it
If you liked it, then you shoulda put a ring on it
Don’t be mad once you see that he want it
If you liked it, then you shoulda put a ring on it

Uh oh oh, oh oh oh oh, oh oh, oh oh oh!!!








[CHURCH]

The Tabernacle = Church

I feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Last night’s performance was ASTOUNDING. It was like the ultimate playlist from three of my favorite artists. It’s interesting that the concert venue was a renovated church called Tabernacle, because I definitely heard the gospel, sang some neo-hymns and darn-near caught the spirit! (It would be inappropriate to use profanity in a biblical metaphor, right? Right.) Now, I missed the opening act because (as usual) I was running late. I left an MBA information session early so I could get to the show in enough time to see Janelle Monae hit the stage…

My God. That woman is amazing. Her style is so unique and fresh. Not only does she explore alternative sounds and experiment with style, but she captivates and wows her audience with every show! I’ve seen her three times live, and she has gotten better each time. She started off with "Violet Stars Happy Hunting" (classic) and followed with "Smile". The first time I heard Janelle sing Smile I was brought to tears. Perhaps it had to do with a certain young man’s negative affect on my life, but the lyrics touched and moved me to a deeply emotional place… Nostalgia is quite the phenomenon. After those two signature songs, we heard "Sincerely Jane" and two more songs. Her wild, robotic dancing was passionate, energetic, and very entertaining... so much so that Pharrell later imitated it during his set. She is a true rock star in the making. Nevermind this whole Bad Boy charade... this lady is the real deal with a voice of honey, and eclectic taste to round it out.

Then Pharrell’s sexy self hit the stage and performed all of NERD’s hits. He started off with Seeing Sounds tracks, touched on a few In Search Of… songs in a medley, and then brought it home with back-to-back favorites like “Lapdance,” “Rockstar,” “Everyone Nose” and “She Wants To Move.” In each of his breaks between songs, he proved just how conscious and politically aware he was (which I loved). He talked about Obama, his confidence that we (his audience) were registered to vote and kick some ass on November 4, and even touched on the stock market crisis. He said to us (and I’m paraphrasing here): “Don Lemon was backstage with me doing an interview and he asked me about my opinion on Wall Street. I told him I wasn’t surprised by anything that happened… at all. In fact, I wrote a song about it. Wanna here it? Here it go: Sooner or later, it all comes crashiiiing doooooown…”

I wonder if he would consider marrying me.

Then, my man… one of the most beautiful human beings to ever walk the planet… came onto the stage. Lonnie Lynn is the quintessence of strength, charisma, charm, sex appeal, intelligence, talent, wit and beautiful brown skin. He rocked SEVEN tracks from his upcoming album, and each one sounded great. I must admit, I was kinda disappointed when I heard he didn’t work with Kanye on this record… but it didn’t hurt him one bit. Common is as fresh, alive and relevant as ever. His albums always find that perfect balance with “conscious” tracks, club bangers, and smooth love-like songs. Hmmm… he actually might beat Pharrell out with this whole marriage idea.

Of course, after Common performed all of his new ish, with intermittent odes to older albums including Be and Like Water for Chocolate, he had to come back for an encore. We still had to hear “The People,” “I Want You,” and “The Light”!!

I slept well last night (after politely asking my roommate and her BFF to quiet down at 1:30 in the morning). I woke up beaming. It didn’t matter that it was rainy and dreary outside. Last night’s show provided enough sunshine to last me through the weekend. The Single Aesthetic here is finding serenity and peace in loud, crowded concert venues… which always manages to put me in a warm and fuzzy place.

CHURCH!




If the Invincible Sounds of Summer tour has not yet made it to your city... please go buy your tickets now! The entire concert is well worth the ticket price and Ticketmaster "convenience fees" (which are a complete joke, btw).

We're Not Friends!

“My friends,” he said, over and over again. Or “my fellow Americans,” he would say. Gulp. Gulp. With each of those simple phrases, my friends and I were forced to drink. It wasn’t our fault, though. Those were the rules of the game. Any time McCain says “my friends,” “my fellow Americans,” or “when I was a POW,” we had to drink. By the end of the debate, I was tired of listening to him talk. All that alcohol was giving me a headache.

To start – calling us “your friends” does not make it so. This is a transparent strategy of yours, to make us feel more at ease with your old, crusty, discomforting mannerisms. As soon as he stepped foot on the stage I shifted in my seat. He’s just soooo awkward. Even his smiles are forced and premeditated. Imagine what must happen when he’s around small children. He probably frightens them - to the point that they scream for their mothers and have to be escorted out of the room.

Secondly – chill with all of your condescending, curt, paternalistic remarks. We can clearly see you’re old enough to be Obama’s dad. You don’t have to act like it with every remark. “Haha, thanks Tom, I’ll actually answer the question this time,” McCain said to Brokaw in a rebuttal statement towards Obama. Whoa. For real? You want to take it there? Please do answer the question, sir, because you didn’t answer very many of them last night. You and Palin have this diluted belief that if you constantly refer to your talking points, the audience will eventually forget what the question even was. Not the case last night, thanks to dear old CNN. They posted each question in the lower-third of the screen to ensure viewers could tell whether or not it was being answered. Obama’s answers were detailed, thorough, and thoughtful. McCain’s “answers” were…non-existant. Between snide retorts, fake laughter and his Hitler-esque gestures to the audience, I don’t think he managed to answer a single question.

Did I mention that me makes me uncomfortable?

Third, and finally – have the American people not consistently said “we’re not interested in your smear campaigns”?? Dude, fall back with all that. Attacking Obama is not doing anything for you. You’re slipping in the polls and you’re upset about it. That is understandable. But attempting to tie him to terrorists (low blow) when you, yourself have done some low-down, shameless things (like divorcing your first wife after a near-fatal car accident), is hypocritical to say the least. I lose more and more respect for McCain and the Republican Party each day. In fact, from now on, I’ll call the man John. He gets no deference from me.

I must admit, per one of my earlier posts, this election is producing some of the best reality TV I’ve ever seen. Stay tuned. John and Sarah are going to turn this country upside down before they get voted off. But be encouraged… because those two will, indeed, be voted off… on November 4, 2008. I would go ahead and schedule time off for the following day. All kinds of history are bound to ensue…

Speak English, Woman

If having a vagina and journalism degree qualifies you to be Vice President, then I would like to be nominated as Secretary of State. Lemme get them nuclear codes too, while we’re at it.

Perhaps I’m not really qualified, though. I’ve never served on a PTA; I’ve never been a mayor (of a city whose population mirrors that of my alma mater); and I’ve never been Governor of an energy producing state (for two years). I guess everything I really need to know about Sarah Palin, however, was proven in last night’s debate.

Objectively speaking, I thought she did really well. Maybe even great… and I’m saying this even though I can’t stand her. She’s a great debater. She took everything in stride; she appeared fresh, excited and ready; she focused on energy – an important issue which happens to be her strong suit – but she made sure that McCain was the spotlight. She attacked Obama where she could (which wasn’t often considering that she only recently learned everything she needed to know about him), but overall I thought she came off as well-prepared, and knowledgeable (read: a quick study) of the major issues.

HOWEVER, that folksy, cutesy, “regular person” shtick was pissing me off. Speak English, woman. “Betcha”, “Gonna”, “Ain’t”, and “Ya” are not English words. More importantly, they are completely inappropriate colloquialisms to use on the national stage in the ONLY debate you’ll ever engage in. Did anyone council her on this? I get the appeal, but come on. Is it that difficult to pronounce all of the sounds in your words? You don’t even use that many! By not answering many of the questions Ifill presented, you managed to reduce your vocabulary choices to topics surrounding energy, war and eh, I guess the economy. Whenever you were really stuck, you talked about McCain being a Maverick to deflect the attention away from yourself. Good thing Biden nipped that in the bud. McCain is no Maverick. Period. Thank you, Senator Biden.

Bottom line: the woman is not qualified. This debate obviously helped Palin recover from previous gaffes, but it did not speak to her ability to lead the free world. Lady – I am not impressed by your everyday, soccer-hockey-mom persona. Such “moms” belong on the sidelines of the field and/or rink. They do NOT belong in the White House. And, just because you happen to prove yourself in a single 90-minute debate does not mean you deserve four years as the second highest-ranking official of the free world.


No. No. No. Thanks, but no thanks.

Don't Do Me

Why do some people have such a hard time following through? When you say you're going to do something, you should do it. Period. And, if you're going to break a commitment, there's no need for excuses.

Excuses don't explain. Explanations don't excuse.



Tis all.

We Can't Kick It If You Can't Spell

A long, long, looong time ago, when I was on facebook (in the pre-"note" era) there was an application that mirrored blogs. Now, I'm not sure if the whole "note" thing stuck around from 2006 until now, or left and came back, but I'm hearing that it has only recently become popular. I always have been a little ahead of my time. Regardless, after I graduated and began to mingle with young men in DC, NY and what not, I noticed a sad, sad atrocity. These bamas can't spell.

To me, there is nothing more unattractive than receiving a text from an otherwise cute guy, only to learn that he doesn't grasp the fundamentals of grammar. I know they stopped teaching it in grade school, so I guess I should be upset with our education system or something... but I'm not. I get irritated with the guy who can't spell. Your ability to spell, properly conjugate verbs, and - for the love of GOD - differentiate between otherwise troubling words and contractions, is imperative to me. There's a HUGE difference between "your" and "you're," for example.

I received a handwritten note from a man at my gym yesterday. Not a business card. A handwritten note. Are we in grade school? Clearly not, because ol' boy - excuse me, old MAN - could not spell.

"I think your incredibly attractive. Let's do lunch." Ahem. It should be "you're," sir. Correct me if I'm wrong, but what you want to say is "'you are' incredibly attractive." I appreciate the compliment, though it's bewildering that a guy will approach me in a sweaty t-shirt and booty shorts before he'll approach me in a nice spring dress at a restaurant or something. But I digress. Proper spelling and grammar speaks to a person's educational foundation. Granted, some people slip from time to time, but for the most part, educated people can produce coherent sentences free of grammatical errors. I mean, I wouldn't ever be able to carry on a text or e-mail conversation with you because I'd be too distracted by your grammatical flaws. And we couldn't raise kids, because I wouldn't trust you to help them with their English homework. I would always be correcting you, which in turn, would annoy you, causing lots of arguments... which I would win, because I always win. See, it's the tiny things that we overlook in people that sometimes point to a bigger problem. And, I have girlfriends that make this mistake all the time but I love them still. (I don't plan on marrying any of them... so it's less bothersome. Weird, huh?) On top of that, how can you function in a professional setting making mistakes like that all the time? People might overlook it, but it only means that 1. they, themselves, cannot spell, or 2. they secretly recognize your shortcoming and politely disregard it. I'm just saying...

Whatever. To the forty year-old man that hit on me last night: "you're" is a contraction. When you mean to say "you are", you condense the two words to form "you're." "I know where you're going" = "I know where you are going." See? Grammar is fun.
"Your" describes possession. "I like your ring" = "I like the ring that you possess."

It also annoys me to no end, when immature, crude young men attempt to impress me with their overtly sexual vernacular. "I can't wait to see you butt naked." Sir, it's "buck - naked" and you will be waiting for the rest of your life.

There are also differences between for, four and fore; to, too and two; there, their and they're. Ah. That last trio gets me ALL THE TIME.

"There" is a noun. It's a place. "I love Moods Music in Little Five; Let's go there."
"Their" is possessive. "American Apparel is my fave; I love their clothes."
"They're" is a contraction of "they" and "are." "They're going to dinner after the movie" = "They are going to dinner after the movie."

Dudes - please do not text or e-mail me saying: "Yo - their's a party tonight at Dulce. You should come thru. Their's gonna be plenty of liq, so bring you're girls."

No. No. No. Delete my number! We can't kick it if you can't spell!!!!

Inspirational Haiku

[Preface: Homecoming is quickly approaching. With this in mind, I can't help but reflect on some of my fondest memories as I amp myself for next month's festivities. Homecoming is about more than the game, the Yard, the stepshow... It's about seeing the people who helped you through some of the most trying experiences in your life. It's about those long nights you spent in your BFF's apartment laughing or crying, cramming or drinking... And now, while you may be seperated geographically, should you need your dear friend, they are only a phone call and plane ride away. It's about trying to re-live your college experience in all of three days. ::Smile:: Why isn't it October yet?]

A long, long time ago, a group of college friends sat around after returning from senior year spring break. We were all well-tanned from the Negril sun, and anxiously anticipating our last few weeks as college students. While midterms were finished, and we only had a few finals to complete, our love lives had consumed us. We were intelligent, hard-working, beautiful, successful twenty-three year olds who were focused (with astounding tunnel vision) on the respective objects of our affection. Some of us had recently ended long-term relationships (with ex-beaus who had already acquired new girlfriends), and others of us simply longed for untameable men. All of us, in some form or fashion, were subtly bitter.

But instead of walking around campus as angry black women, we channeled our frustration towards a creative outlet - poetry. Haiku to be specific. Dionne told us that she was writing a book of inspirational poems, and that we should all contribute to it. The book was entitled (drumroll please): B!tch, You Worth Somethin'. Don't Let That N!cka Ufck Up Yo' Life...HO: A Book of Inspirational Haiku.

You have to excuse her sometimes; she's from Memphis. Anyway, I wanted to share a handful of those Haiku with you. While creative expression should never be limited to instances when you're down-and-out, those can really be prime times for creative energy to flow. Using the 5-7-5 guidelines, we poured our hearts, souls and and not-so-subtle jabs at men into a collection of fun poems.

They reek with profanity, but take a gander if you like...



Who is She?
How do you know her?
Why is she always around?
Tell that b!tch to die


That Ho Gone
One day she will die
I know because I killed her
Locked her in the trunk


Just Go
You can go to hell
Mmm, yes. You can go to hell
And take her with you


The Garbage
She looks like pure trash
You know what we do with trash
Throw that b!tch away


Shrek
Your girl looks like Shrek
You must have low self-esteem
Get that b!tch a leash


LOL! Man, in retrospect they sound pretty bad. But, in the moment, when you have a room full of emotionally drained women, a bottle of wine, and a desire to laugh - this is what you get. Fun times! Fun. Times.

The Single Aesthetic: finding ways to creatively express your anger, disappointment and hostility without breaking, punching, slashing, hitting, or smacking something (or somebody). What's better is having a "book" to reminisce over years later. College memories, man. Nothing like 'em.


Look for the Employment Version coming soon!!

Hearts Aren't Made for Sleeves

They can hear it in my voice. I’ve been on the phone with my mother and my former boss, both within the past hour, and they have each said “you sound down”. She could see it in my face. “I can tell you’re anxious about where you’re going to land,” she said in my informational meeting this morning. “It’s that obvious, huh?” I responded. Wow.

It’s like a little parasite that embeds itself in my mind… in my soul. A Virus. I carry it with me every day, it seems. It’s a heavy little burden – seemingly impossible to conceal. I’ve really been working on controlling my thoughts, too. ‘Everything will be okay,’ I try to tell myself. I’ve made some progress… but they’re only baby steps. I so earnestly want to find my perfect fit! But, life is what is happening to me as I search for that unattainable perfection, right? Instead of moping and whining, I should be grateful for the things that I do have, and celebrate them for what they are truly worth.

Well. I’ll rid myself of this debilitating virus with small doses, I suppose. I could start by picking my head up.

Deep Breaths

Everything is going to be okay. Let go of the sadness in your voice. Relax your shoulders. Close your eyes. Clear your thoughts.

Deep Breaths

That “void” in your spirit is really a figment of your imagination. You are fine. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. God is building you; growing you; empowering you.

Deep Breaths
It’s okay. Wipe those tears. Let it go. It’s okay.





It’s okay.

Review: Rosa Mexicano

It's restaurant week! Restaurants all over the city are vying for consumer dollars by offering their delectable cuisine for insanely low prices. Last Saturday a friend and I went to Rosa Mexicano (I'd been dying to go) for dinner. This participating restaurant afforded us the chance to sample three courses of their finest cuisine for 25 bucks. Nice.

While their modified "Restaurant Week" menu was limited, it wasn't difficult to discern that the food here was delicious. He started off with the Flautas de Pollo while I tried the Sopa de Tortilla, a soup composed of grilled chicken, avocado, tortilla strips, and a creamy sauce. Light but filling - it was a good starter. Next, I had the Salmon en Manchamanteles. Organic salmon served over black beans and corn, dressed with tropical fruit. Mouthwatering. Our waiter added rice with cilantro, which was a perfect compliment to the entree. The mango and pineapple flavors blended nicely with the medium-well seared salmon. Though the restaurant is Mexican by name, the cuisine extends far beyond the normal realm of burritos and enchiladas. Every dish, both his and mine, was exquisite in presentation, form and taste. Even the food itself had aesthetic quality.

The Flan de Coco for dessert was decadent. I mean, you have to travel abroad to find flan this good. He tried the "Pastel de Cueso" (cheesecake) which was equally remarkable. Light, creamy, and fresh... unlike the stuff you get at Cheesecake Factory (no disrespect - I like that place too). It was a perfect ending to a tasty, filling meal.

The service was great. Our waiter checked on us frequently enough, but not so much as to interrupt our conversation. Our water glasses were never empty, and his response to our needs was always timely.

The atmosphere was very inviting as well. It was definitely a family restaurant, though couples and large groups of friends could be spotted anywhere. The restaurant is best known for it's homemade guacamole (which, for some reason, we didn't try) and their authentic margaritas (which my friend tried, and enjoyed).

Overall, the place was a winner. It's a little pricey for an otherwise broke girl, thus "Restaurant Week" was the perfect opportunity to finally try their food. And, my pockets may hate me for it... but I will definitely be back.

http://www.rosamexicano.info/

Clearly

You've got me caught up in a daze
And I, can't seem to understand
What I've been thinking
And although you come in clearly now
Hard for me to turn around
And keep from blinking

All that I can do is be there
Heaven knows that I swear
You do something to me
And I'll never ever tell a lie
I'll always be there by your side
It's so soothing

It's clearly understandable
I'm not some type of animal
I'm just in love with you
And heaven knows I'm glad I found you
Loving, and you came around
To do the things that you do

You don't even hardly speak to me
Tell me what could it be
To let you walk away so freely
But you still call from time to time
Tell me why you play with my mind
I know you want to be here with me

All that I can do is be there
Heaven knows that I swear
You do something to me
And I'll never ever tell a lie
I'll always be by your side
Oh, it's so soothing

It's clearly understandable
I'm not some type of animal
I'm just in love with you
And heaven knows I'm glad I found you
Loving, and you came around
To do the things that you do

I just don't know
What I've been doing wrong
In your life
Baby if you give me one more try
I will never ever leave your side

I Blame the Phone

I can't be mad.

If I told him I couldn't talk to him everyday, what do I really expect? People move on. Some, more quickly than others... He moves damn fast. I'm just saying.

It's not that I couldn't "talk" to him everyday, though. I had the physical capability to open my mouth and carry on a conversation. I was actually always very interested in what he had to say. His ability to make me laugh is unparalleled. His insight, buried beneath a slightly cocky facade, is profound. Since college, I could tell he was making strides to better himself and improve his life. I respected that. I respect that.

But, timing is everything. And while I loved talking everyday, and hearing his voice, and laughing with him, something had to give. I mean, how long can you really talk to someone every day before residual emotions begin to evolve? I could not allow myself to slip back in - dare I say it - love. It was hard enough the first time. To fall so deeply... so hard... And to look up only to realize what you thought you were a part of was actually an intense, emotional, painful whirlwind of great conversations and brutal arguments; pure physical attraction and seething disgust; mutual admiration, quiet morning talks, inside jokes, endless texts, jealousy, envy, bickering and betrayal.

And yet, I can't let go.

After one year of apologies, arguments, rebounding and regressing, followed by one year of uninterrupted silence, we finally managed to pick up the pieces - most of them, at least - and try to be friends. It started slowly, and progressed into a comfortable stride. But, all of the talking, and texting, and e-mails just started to confuse me. Do platonic friends talk this often? I don't even talk to the bridesmaids this often... and they are the bridesmaids. I mean, if we're talking this much, and enjoying one another's company, why are we not moving beyond this point? Because I don't want to. I like things the way they are. And you don't want to. You're comfortable as well. Right? Right.

Right?

So he just stopped calling altogether. But that's not what I meant! "Not every day" doesn't mean "never". It - it just means, I need to take a step back and figure some things out! Why am I giddy when I see your name in my inbox "Mr. Platonic Friend"? And, why am I irritated when your "Miss Platonic Friend" is taking up our quality time? Who is she? How do you know her? I had to check myself: Self! Stop it. Chill out. Fall back. And go look up "platonic"...

::sighs::

So, he talks to someone else. Someone less complicated. Someone less consumed with her own thoughts, perfectly able to live in the moment. Someone without endless questions. Someone who doesn't share our messy history. It's fine. It's fine.

And, I can't be mad.

Very Politically Incorrect

Welp. It's official. In this election, absolutely ANYTHING goes.

I was a Hillary supporter. I had nothing against Obama, because I did ultimately vote for him in the state primary and will surely vote for him in November. I just liked Hillary better. Race aside. Gender aside. Hillary, in my humble opinion, was best prepared for the position. She had experience on Capitol Hill, in the White House, and in one of the most prominent states in our country. Furthermore, this was not a popularity contest nor was it Student Council. We were talking about the leader of the free world, and Hillary was fully capable of doing an outstanding job. She played hard in the Good Ol' Boys Club, and beat a lot of men at their own game. She held her own. For every negative any person ever offered against Hillary, I could find a positive.

She's a jaded, professional politician.

Um. When you apply for jobs, the HR rep expects that you have some sort of qualifications for the job for which you're applying. Even the manager of Micky D's had to serve a few fries here and there. So -because she gained noteworthy experience as First Lady of Arkansas and the United States, went on to run and win a seat as a US Senator, and continues to make countless strides on behalf of everyday people - she's jaded. Sounds more like "qualified" to me, but you can call it what you like.

Her husband disgusts me.

Is he running for office? I mean, if he were I'd vote for him too, but I'm pretty sure there are laws against him serving a third term. Not sure though, so I'll double check. People question how a woman can stay with cheating man, when the real question is this: what does him cheating have to do with the price of tea in China? Nothing. Did his little blow job affect your drinking water? Your health care? Your phone bill? Gas prices? Sub prime mortgage rates? Are you shaking your head? Yeah - what he did was actually irrelevant, even more so because he wasn't your husband. And don't even bring up that whole "perjury" nuisance. Cause if we EVER put Bush on the stand... (::shaking my own head::) never mind. If Hillary, Bill Clinton's wife, could forgive him, then I think we should all move on. Let's.

She cried during her campaign.

Excuse me. A quiver in her voice hardly qualifies as the sob story everyone made it out to be. When she's wearing pant suits and talking about the tough issues - she's too manly. If she hasn't gotten any sleep in weeks and shows an ounce of emotion at an informal press conference - she's an over-emotional, PMSing woman. Give. Me. A. Break. Meanwhile, Kevin Garnett and Paul Pierce are shedding tears left and right, barely speaking English after winning the 2008 Championship in game six. I guess they shouldn't plan on running for President anytime soon either. All that estrogen might get in their way.

She's a bitch.

Hell yeah she's a bitch! I love it! She's no-nonsense. She knows the ins and outs of our political system and works every angle to her own advantage. She has paid her dues and she's ready to cash in for the big promotion. Nice Girls Don't Get the Corner Office, you know (speaking of which - ladies, please add that book to your collection ). She's an amazing example of what hard work, due diligence, sound mind and ceaseless perseverance can do for a girl. Is she underhanded? Might be. Most politicians are, so I don't fault her for that. Is she the spawn of Satan? For some reason, people really seem to believe that. I can't help but laugh at how re-damn-diculas that sounds. People really hate this woman. And, why I don't fully understand why, I will repeat what someone once told me: the only reason a person will ever hate you is because you posses something that they lack. Gumption. Drive. Wherewithal. Prowess. Tenacity. Nimbleness... The woman stood up at the DNC on Tuesday and wholeheartedly endorsed her 19-month opponent as President of the United States of America. She did so with grace, poise and assuredness. She continued to focus on the tough issues facing our country, in efforts to unite our party and secure Democratic reign in the Oval Office. She did all of this with a smile on her face and sincerity in her voice. Even her clever, self-depreciating "sisterhood of the traveling pantsuits" joke had to have struck a chord with her still-undecided supporters. So, yeah, I guess those are reasons to declare her the offspring of Lucifer.

http://www.amazon.com/Nice-Girls-Dont-Corner-Office/dp/0446531324

To that end, while Republicans and Democrats alike were attacking Hills from both sides, calling for her to end her campaign prematurely, look at what HER hard work has provided - a Republican Vice Presidential nominee.

What. The. Ham-Sandwich.

This Palin woman is shamelessly riding on Hillary's coattails. She admits as much in her first public address in accepting McCain's nomination. How dare she?! Hillary did not endure as much as she did so that you - a two-bit exploitation of her hard work - could presumably secure a position as our country's first female Vice President. Boy, I'm just getting all sorts of riled up over here.

My friends (all Obama supporters from jump) suggest that we (Hillary supporters) are too smart to fall for a ploy such as this. Unfortunately, as much as I take pride in my own intelligence, I cannot speak for the other 18 million "cracks" in the now clichéed glass ceiling. Some women may really be swayed by McCain's blatant attempt to secure Hillary's leftovers. I was appalled to see "Clintons for McCain" posters in Denver this past week. Who is this dumb? Sarah Palin's politics aren't even CLOSE to Hillary's. She hasn't even finished one term as Governor! (And - I made the same criticism about Obama when he chose to run prior to finishing his first term as US Senator; I'm not making ANY exceptions on this point.)

I will say this - this haphazard decision will make for some interesting TV over the next two months. It's bound to be more entertaining/informative/outright ridicules than most programming in the 2008 fall line-up. The Single Aesthetic: tricking dumb Americans into keeping up with politics and casting a vote in November. THIS is what it has come to.