The Passion

I’ve always been the “friend with the cool job”. In college, every internship or work experience I had was with a well-known media behemoth. Clear Channel Communications, MTV, Fox News, you name it. Even after I graduated I finagled my way into freelance production work with NBC Universal. When I’d catch up with college buddies and tell them I had just seen Adam Sandler or Denzel Washington on set, their mouths would drop and they’d beg for details. Little did they know that I been fetching coffee and directing pedestrian foot traffic all day. It was important that tax-paying citizens not walk on the public street where we were shooting, or else they’d interfere with the scene. Making films is serious business, after all.


I really believed that the media industry was for me, and that I just hadn’t yet found my footing. When I landed [my current position], I was confident that this would be the solid career foundation I was looking for. After three years with the company, I still have yet to be convinced. When I head to work each morning, instead of worrying about meetings, or action items on my to-do list, I’m focused on what I’ll be doing after 6 pm. I may run a few miles with Team in Training, which is a subsidiary of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society (LLS), I may have a committee meeting with the “Light the Night” Walk volunteer group (also of LLS), or I may be tutoring at the Jerusalem House. Even my weekends are packed with mentoring and volunteering for the organizations I have come to love. My commitments to these organizations are what motivate me each morning, and what keep me going when my less-than-fulfilling job begins to weigh on me. My associations with non-profit organizations are my driving force; they are my passion.

I did some volunteer work in college, and when I moved to [my current city], and finally got settled in, I began searching for ways to give back to my community. Big Brothers Big Sisters of America was immediately appealing because I’d have one young lady for whom I was responsible. The time commitment was manageable and, given all of the perks I had inherited from [my job], we’d always have something fun and/or educational to. After our very first meeting, I could see how valuable our relationship would become. I was going to learn a great deal about poverty in [my city], the education gap, the achievement gap, and I’d gain exposure to an entire sub-culture of black America that I’d never before seen, even [in college]. In turn, I was determined to teach her the rules of English grammar, proper etiquette, the necessity of trying new things, and the importance of building a relationship with God. She and I are still building, but I’m so proud of how far along we have come.

I began tutoring at the Jerusalem House after a Volunteer Day activity in September of 2007. The Jerusalem House is a non-profit housing establishment that permanently caters to families affected by HIV/AIDS. The students at the Jerusalem House are bright and enthusiastic, despite the many challenges they and their families face. Even when my schedule prevented from tutoring on a weekly basis, I found ways to give back, ranging from a [local college] campus tour to a family outing to a [baseball] game.

My most personal tie to a non-profit organization, however, is with the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. In March 2009, my mother was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. It was shocking to all of us because she was a healthy woman. She didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, and had no family history of this particular cancer. It was a trying summer, and in October when she received her final treatment of chemo, I vowed to do everything possible to commemorate her remission. I started by raising $1000 for LLS’s “Light the Night” walk. I was proud of that accomplishment, but knew I could do more. In November, I began training for my first-ever half marathon with LLS’s “Team in Training” program. Though Team in Training, I gained an instant network of friends and fellow athletes committed to raising awareness and fighting blood cancers. We all raised funds and trained together, supporting one another when family members fell ill, pushing each other to complete each run with a strong finish, and vowing to never forget the lives lost to blood cancers. It was the most emotional yet fulfilling experience I have had in my life. This is what truly opened my eyes to what I believe to be my calling.

If I can find a way to help non-profit organization such as BBBS, the Jerusalem House and LLS thrive, I will consider myself accomplished. I don’t want to just help these organizations and others like them succeed; I want to see them grow to the highest of heights, enlightening others of their missions along the way. Whether I’m helping them to raise money or coordinate events; recruit volunteers or build better business plans, I want my impact to be relevant and long-lasting.

By societal standards, I am already a success story. I have my own place, my own car, and I work for an amazing company with great benefits. But I don’t want to be a success; I’d rather be significant. I’d rather have my life’s work feel meaningful and important. I don’t get that from media, and I doubt I ever will. There are certainly aspects of my communications background that will serve me well in my future endeavors. But, I intend to dedicate myself to the non-profit sector, and advancing organizations that face more challenges, and deserve more resources than the “cool” media giants. I cannot, in good faith, think of any reason to choose film and television over the young girl with sub-par reading skills, the single-parent family with AIDS, or the husband who has just learned that his wife has cancer… life is too short for that.

Layered Frustrations

I can’t really find the words to articulate the source of my frustration. But I know there are several layers that are interfering with my daily thoughts, feelings and general disposition. To start, MLT has commenced and, while I was initially enthralled with the idea of participating in such a highly competitive program, the very first challenges are proving to be slightly overwhelming. The writing portion of our monthly assignments will get handled. No sweat. But this f-ing GMAT score might be the death of me. I have invested a nice portion of my annual income into a Kaplan course and, for whatever reason, cannot seem to find the time or mental capacity to study. There are 1000 things I’d rather do each night, every weekend, and in any spare moment I may find. What is my problem?

On top of that, after months of counseling, a new boy, and countless “breaths of fresh air” I find myself troubled with thoughts of the Old Boy again. This past three-day Valentine’s Weekend was emotional to say the least. In fact, the months of January and February combined have been a bit tumultuous for me. I’ve been in a constant funk for no reason at all. Perpetual PMS, if you will. I’ve managed to keep it (for the most part) to myself and try to let it pass. But V-Day weekend was kind of a big deal, and for me to be alone while he’s in NY living it up pulled at every heartstring I think I have.

I get that Valentine’s Day is a “Hallmark Holiday” invented by the consumer products industry to gross over 14 billion dollars annually… but so what? What’s wrong with celebrating love and affection once a year? What’s wrong with telling people (be they friends, lovers, parents, etc.) how you feel? What’s wrong with dinner, flowers, or even a movie night to celebrate the warm fuzzy feeling you get when you’re with that special someone? And, if you have no one… what then?

I ended up at a dinner with friends on Sunday night, and it proved to be just what I needed – lighthearted and full of laughter. Even Monday was pretty cool. I ran a few errands and visited with grandma (who’s still hanging in there!). Whatever.

I think that the failed relationship with the Old Boy coupled with the disastrous disappointment named Aaron is weighing on me more than I’d care to acknowledge. And, trying to focus on my future is not proving as helpful (or even as plausible) as others would lead one to believe. It’s like I’m living in my own mini-hell (again) and everyone is just standing around watching. Even my friends from college appear to be gravitating toward the Old Boy and his new girl… quoting them both on Twitter, causally mentioning them in conversations, appearing to enjoy their company overall. It’s annoying. Try as I may, I can’t seem to escape this sociopath. And he appears to have all of my “college friends” clouded with his devilish deceit. Smh. I hate this.

I have got to get out of here.

I Met a Boy, Part II

On the Monday following said “incident” he called me to confirm a few things. He couldn’t quite remember exactly everything that had transpired. Okay, cool. Everything is fine. Nobody has ANYthing to worry about. But his tone… there was something in his tone that I just didn’t quite like. It was a subtle mix of fear, mild condescension and too much tact. When we hung up I felt completely put off, and somewhat discouraged. The old Michele would have “let it go” meaning: toss and turn all night, wrack my brain to figure out what his “tone” meant, and do everything but, in fact, let it go. Instead, I called him back. I told him that there was clearly a conversation that we should have had a long, long time ago, and the idea that this was making him exceedingly uncomfortable was beginning to make me uncomfortable. The conversation ended civilly enough, and I felt good about speaking my mind instead of being my typical passive-aggressive self. We resolved everything. On to the next one.

Except, I didn’t talk to him at all that week. No text. No calls. No gchat. No nothing. By Friday, I was on the verge of just cutting him off once and for all. Instead, I sent him an email. Cut and paste for your reading pleasure here:

I know you're not a phone person, so I'm hoping you're an e-mail person. I know you're slammed with work and grad school apps, but I was hoping to get a little of your time this week or this weekend. My schedule is pretty crazy too with last minute holiday stuff, so I imagine it may be difficult. I'd still like to try to get together, though.

We haven't spoken at all since Monday. I can't help but assume it has something to do with the nature of our last conversation. I've been thinking a lot about it, and I feel as though we handled it appropriately. I will admit I was annoyed at how it happened and how we resolved it, but I'm hoping that it's something we both feel okay about.

Aside from that, I'm having trouble figuring out the best way to get to know you. I thought we liked each other, but perhaps I misread something. Without consistent phone calls or text messages, we're limited to going out. Given both of our schedules, those outings seem to be few and far between. I'm not complaining, but I do want to make sure we're on the same page. We've been hanging out for a few weeks, but I can't say I really know you any better than I did on October 24th.

I hope this note finds you well. Perhaps I'll see or hear from you sooner than later.

Short. Sweet. Non-emotional. To the point.

He responded, via g-chat, with bullet points.

hey. just read your email. a few thoughts:

12:25 PM -- thanks for the thoughtful note. i think you've been very respectful of my time commitments (or lack thereof) and I'm appreciative of that

12:26 PM -- on the Monday conversation/weekend events... I'm quite disappointed in myself by my saturday actions and not just what happened between us but how much i drank and the fact that i drove after drinking so much, so i'm still trying to get a grip on that

12:27 PM -- on the getting to know me piece: this is a much longer conversation and one that may or may be better to have in person. however, i'll say a few quick things.

12:30 PM actually, i'll leave it at that

Now, I know my email was concise and all, but it was still a letter. His response was so... formal. It must be the consultant in him. I let him know I had a lunch commitment for work and that I needed to leave the computer for a bit, but that we would catch up later. Do you know I didn’t hear from him for three weeks? No “Merry Christmas,” no “Happy New Year.” I didn’t even bother calling him on his birthday (December 27th) because I was so disappointed at having been ignored for a week and a half. Time passed, and I was slowing “letting HIM go” (aggressively, not passively) by occupying my time with the Holiday 5K, heading home, seeing an old flame, connecting with high school friends, etc. etc.

But this past Wednesday I decided I wanted to break the silence. Clearly he just wasn’t that into me. And, that was fine. I had been through worse. I could call a two-month fling what it was, and not be scarred by it. Yes, I would have liked to have seen our little blossom continue to bloom… especially during the cold winter months… but I could accept that that was not going to happen. I just wanted to know 1. if he had gotten some of his belongings that I had mailed to him and 2. what had happened? Had I done something wrong? Was he really THAT busy? (NO) Did he have the balls to say he just wasn’t feeling me anymore?

I sent a passive gchat note. He responded a day later with a passive reply. I have yet to say anything else. I’ve confided in Melanie to see if she has any insight; and all she harbors now is contempt for Aaron. She’s upset that a guy that smart could be so dumb. It happens. I think she’s more mad than I am! LOL. I’m not even mad, really. It’s like I said – he’s the biggest (and most confusing) highlight of Q4, 2009. And, perhaps that’s where he should stay…


The jury is still out on that one...

Note to Self...

Stop. Checking. Social. Networking. Sites. You. Dummy.

It's no good for you. You never learn anything useful. Who cares what he's doing? Who cares how he's feeling? Your trying season has changed for the better; his pleasurable season will soon come to an end. The same way troubled waters eventually wash away, storm clouds will silently creep into view. This rollercoaster called life cannot afford us those gleeful peaks without an uphill climb. And we never endure those valleys for long, because another exciting twist or turn is just around the bend. So, chin up. Shake it off. One mindless check-in isn't such a terrible thing - but it is unnecessary. Fabulous people with fabulous lives need not check in on the lowly, selfish, slimy hoebags who twice threatened said fabulosity.

Homeboy now has a blog and twitter account. How nice for him. He constantly updates his Facebook with pleas for people to follow him, keep up with him, check in on him and basically behold the mesmerizing nothingness that summarizes his life. How sweet.

He has plans to pursue business school with his 2.0 GPA and 2+ years of non-work experience. (Getting fired from Merrill and quitting a non-profit gig hardly qualify as "experience"... am I right?) Pah! I laugh at this. I hope the coldness of New York winter consumes his scheming little soul and leaves him shuddering in the misery of his own poor decisions. I hope he encounters insurmountable heartbreak and cries himself back to his southern roots for mama to take care of him - again. I hope life starts to reject him the same way he rejected me. I hope he gets hit by a bus. I want the universe to abort him.

It probably doesn't help that I checked his f-ing page after 6 flimsy hours of sleep followed by running 3 miles and almost hurling this morning... It doesn't help that I checked on him to delay the voluminous workload that's already beginning to wear me down. Now I can't even concentrate.

I'm cranky. But I'm also sincere. My anger has subsided but not completely dissipated. Linda isn't sure this feeling will ever go away, either. I hope she's wrong. Perhaps small glimpses into his self-proclaimed "happy life" will always trigger a tiny bit of anger or resentment. But that doesn't mean I have to fuel it. I'm actually fine. So, mosey along now. Nothing to see here.

Food 101

Linda says I’m mildly depressed.

For the past week, I’ve unconsciously begun to own that concept and it has slowly ruined the past ninety-six hours of my life. It really doesn’t matter what I do. I’ve been to the gym twice, I’ve been to two happy hours and I’ve partied with high school friends who were in town for the weekend (even cuddled on the couch with one after the evening’s festivities were over). I spent Saturday night at home watching Gossip Girl and crying over the mushy parts. I’ve been to church. I’ve re-gained my appetite. And yet, nothing is wholly cheering me up.

Linda encouraged me to get back to my “normal routine” though I haven’t lately felt motivated to do so. She reminded me that, after any stressful situation, it can be difficult to get back into the full swing of things. So, that’s where the aforementioned events have come into play. I’ve been forcing myself to do the after-work activities that I normally do. I can’t wait until it starts to make a difference.

I’m down. And, it’s not even rooted in the issues surrounding my mom, grandma, that boy, or work. I’m just in an inexplicable funk; a “mild depression.” It troubles me to even say those words aloud. What’s even more troubling is that the life that surrounds me – one that once offered solace and refuge – feels more like a different planet as each day passes. Not only is my parent fighting cancer, but so is everyone else’s! Corinne’s dad. Melanie’s granddad. Denise’s Mom. WTF? Since when is cancer the norm? Why is it so pervasive? And when, for the love of GOD, is everyone going to get better?

No one prepares us for these things. No high school or college courses prepare you for the pains of real life. Going to class and making good grades? Check. Joining student council and working part-time? Check. AP courses, college applications, French club, dance club and graduating with honors? Check, check, check, check, CHECK. Dealing with heartbreak… watching a parent’s health fail… juggling personal and professional trials and tribulations... Um. Good luck! There’s no manual. There are no guidelines. And if you don’t have faith, you’re essentially left with nothing. Luckily my parents provided me with a sound spiritual foundation. I know and believe that God will answer my prayers. Even still, learning to pray, relying on that which cannot be seen, and trusting that everything will turn out as it should is difficult to learn. The Sunday school teachers and pastor can be the best coaches imaginable – but it doesn’t guarantee that any of us will ever be fully equipped with the spiritual playbook we need.

Learning to trust the God within us… and listen to the calm, soothing voice that guides our feet – THAT is what we’re all working towards. Knowing that our peace is not rooted in things or relationships (even the ones we think we can’t let go of), but rests solely in our walk with God – THAT is what we’re all working towards. The world could take away ever THNG we own, and every PERSON we love. Does that mean we stop existing? Does that mean we stop going? Does that mean we give up? No. We place our trust, our faith, and hearts in God’s hands. We leave it to God. And unfortunately, it takes life lessons to reach that point. It requires knowledge acquired inside and outside of the classroom.

Learning how to handle life, in essence, means learning how to live it. Just as toddlers learn to walk – slowly, pacing themselves with one foot in front of the other – we learn to live. We begin slowly. We make mistakes. We encounter obstacles. We fall down, but we get back up. If a toddler stopped trying to walk the first time it encountered defeat, it would crawl forever. Who can imagine a life like that? For that very reason, we must accept the challenges life presents to us and consciously move forward, no matter what new days may bring. We must keep going – though we sometimes feel as though we’re completely unprepared for everything being thrown at us. We must take things in stride. Grieve when we have to. Let go of the things we want and trust that we’ll always have exactly what we need. We’ll have to work; sometimes we’ll have to cry. We will keep trying. We will fall. We’ll stand back up…

Know that everything works out in the end. If it hasn’t

Symptoms of Progress

It's interesting how progress can be so uncomfortable. So... uneasy. So un-easy. And yet, progress is freeing. It's liberating. It's fulfilling.

The drive home is always therapeutic for me. I can zone out, blast my iPod, and breathe easy. Heading home is centering because I know I'll soon be surrounded by people who love me unconditionally. There are no expectations of me, either. No one needs help with anything... except Paris, who needed help moving into her dorm. I don't have to cook - Mom and Dad still do that. No one needs to be taken out - Daddy takes ME out. I don't feel guilty about sitting around the house instead of going out and partying. I go to bed early and I wake up late. The phone doesn't interrupt my thoughts. I don't have to report in to anyone. There are no project deadlines. I can talk about myself endlessly without feeling self-conscious of self-absorbed. I can be honest. I can try and sort out my future with my parents, and know they'll offer guidance with ONLY my best interests at heart. I'm not obligated to say or do anything out of friendship, political correctness or standard networking practices. I'm not compelled to conform. I can be myself - the person I am when no one else is looking - and not feel bad about it. There really is no place like home.

The drive, however, is such a huge portion of the trip, that it takes on a life of it's own. It's as much a part of the trip as my actual destination. I can usually make it in 5 hours from door to door on a good day (with no paroling cops) or a maximum of 7 hours in traffic, with stops, and lots of police officers along the interstate. The music sets the tone. Fiona Apple is a favorite.

This woman is so beautifully intense. I remember in high school feeling a pure and real connection with her words, her music and her style. Even though at the time, I couldn't fully process what she was saying, and I couldn't really relate to her story, I understood. And now that I DO understand, and CAN relate, it feels that much more real. To endure hardships and remain standing really is a powerful and striking feat. Her eloquence amongst heart aching stories is what stands out the most. She captures the rawness of her emotions in heavy, layered, brutal but beautiful poems. Some are silly with a light undertone. Others drench you with tears, disbelief and depression. But she tells the complete story. She speaks of her triumphs and failures. She shakes some off; she carries others with her. Above all, she remains true to herself - unashamed... unabashed... bold. I love her for that.

When I traveled home in June, I couldn't stop crying. Every other song in the shuffle playlist had me in tears. Each song triggered a new pain. Each song triggered a reminder. Each song spoke a new truth. Friday's voyage evoked the same emotions, but solicited no tears. I smiled as I sang my heart out. I felt empowered by the fact that, little by little, I had moved beyond that stage of the grieving process. And, I marvel at the fact that I feel more "whole" because of it. I can empathize with her anguish. I can smile now, though just few months ago I felt incredibly wronged. I can breathe again.

The true test unveiled itself when "Oh Well" began to play. The opening chords stirred something in me as soon as I heard them. I inhaled deeply and began to sing... sans tears... loudly. I made it through the whole song.

I made it through the whole song... to the perfect summation:

What wasted unconditional love,
On somebody who doesn't believe in the stuff
Oh Well

Not an "Option"

I am more than a late-night, creep-through, taboo, kiss-but-don't-tell OPTION.

I am beautiful. I am confident. I have my shit together (for the most part). I'm smart. I'm capable. And, I deserve to be treated that way.

I am TIRED of men living lives where they have their cake and eat it too. If you know I'm in town, and you know you want to see me, and you're considering you might want to have a slumber party, DO NOT have guests over at your house until 3:00 am, and think I'll leave and come back to "kick it". You have lost your mind. You should have thought that through before XBox live became the center of your attention for three hours. You should have thought that through before two other girls walked through your door while I was sitting there. You should have thought that through when I announced, LOUDLY, that I was about to leave at 2:30 am. You should have kicked everyone else out.

But no, you let me leave, and asked if I'd come back in 45 minutes. Two years ago, the answer would have been "yes" hands down, because I was thirsty. I loved attention and affection and I did a lot to get it. If a certain someone had asked me the same question five months ago, I would have obliged because I was blinded by what I thought was love. And, maybe it was love... but I'm not in that place or frame-of-mind anymore. If you want my time, you need to act like it. Regardless of whether or not our relationship is "casual" I am not to be treated casually. When you appeared to be "playing it cool" you were really just playing yourself. Step your game up.

WHEW. If I have learned anything it is this: people will treat you exactly the way you let them. I'm no longer the cute puppy dog salivating at the chance for late night encounters. I have new perspective. I have higher standards. I have learned how to make myself happy when nobody else is around. I don't need this bullshit.

Is it too demanding for me to ask that you end prior engagements at a respectable hour so that we can spend quality time together? No. This is not college, and I am not your groupie. I'm not "hanging out" until everyone leaves or falls asleep on your couch. I am grown, and so are you. Maybe I'm just a little bit farther down the road... I'm not concerned with what you did last night or what you're doing tomorrow. All I know is, if you think something is happening between us tonight, it needs to be made a priority. I'm not some afterthought for when Madden grows old. Get it together.

Bundle of Nerves

I'm a bundle of nerves.

I traveled to NY this weekend with a host of plans on my plate. My linesister was celebrating her engagement Saturday night with a small group of family and friends. I figured if I was going to go up and visit her and see NY friends, I might as well take an additional day or two to visit potential MBA programs.

A week before my scheduled departure, however, something tragic happened. A dear friend of mine from school lost his mother in a car accident. My friend - a grad student studying film - was awaiting his parents' arrival for a film festival the grad program was hosting that weekend. En route, a nearby car caught a flat tire, lost control of the car, swerved and pushed my friend's parents into oncoming traffic... causing his father severe injuries, and his mother... death.

This caused me to re-evaluate my plans. I wanted to be in Virginia for the funeral service. And, judging by the timing, it looked as though I would be able to be. I'd have to miss the engagement party, but I was okay with that. Unfortunately, one grave issue was holding me back. Though relatively insignificant, seeing as how we were dealing with death, I wasn't sure I was emotionally prepared to be in the same room (or same car!) as the boy. Yes. He would surely be there. Our mutual friend happened to be the boy's fraternity linebrother. A friend of ours was driving from NY to VA. There was room in the car. He was definitely going.

::sighs:: That sparks a lot of anger within me. A lot. I'm getting heated just typing this. I was trying to use the month of August as a purge. I was going to divorce myself from there mere mention of his name; divorce myself from the thought of him; divorce myself from social networking sites where I might catch a glimpse of what he was doing. But, I needed advice. Should I go to the funeral and risk my own hurt feelings? Or, proceed with the original plan, and show my friend my support some other way?

The fact that I even need to have this internal debate and external search for answers is troubling. Why is this man STILL dictating how I live my life? Why can't I bear to be around him? Why am I continuing to let him affect my decisions? Enough already!! Ugh. Hearing his name this weekend has been enough to make me crazy. I just want him out of my life forever.

And yet, I find myself hoping I'll see him? I'm not sure if I mentioned this before, but he moved to New York to be with his new girlfriend. Evidently, it's that serious. He doesn't have a job. And I know from previous experience that he doesn't have much money... but he has her. And being with her is enough of a reason for him to relocate and build a new life in NYC. How nice.

I had the opportunity to distract myself last night... with Lewis. Lewis lives with the two friends that had driven to VA - with the boy - for the funeral. I knew they would be back in the wee hours of the morning, and that I could have a potentially awkward interaction with them depending upon the hour at which I was coming or going. It could have been blissful - I could have seen the boy, at 4:00 am, and really hurt his feelings. Or, he could have shrugged me off, and hurt mine - again.

See what I mean? Everything I do revolves around him? Annoying. So, I didn't stay... partially because Lewis was playing mad games. I walked over to his house after kicking it with some of my linesisters to find a little video game party at the house. Who invited them? And, there were more girls on the way? Oh, word? I don't have time for this. I ate my McDonald's, chatted with the guests, and by 2:30 am I was ready to peace out. So, while we're sitting together on the couch, and I'm slipping my shoes back on, he starts texting me like "where are you going... you should just stay." More on that later.

I'm angry, and sad, and disappointed that I couldn't go to the funeral. I'm angry that I even still care what that boy is doing with his life. I'm irritated that I want to see him - or moreso that I want HIM to see ME. Get out of my head... Go.

Hopefully these business school visits will be fulfilling tomorrow and Tuesday. I have a bright future to look forward to. A future that does not - by any stretch of the imagination - include him. I'm taking it one day at a time. One foot in front of the other. Slowly but surely. ::tears:: Why the fuck is it taking so. damn. long?

A Sad New Sorority

Last night, I talked with friends from college that I rarely speak with. Of course, the nature of the conversation centered around the boy. As I shared "my side" of the story, I was met with comments ranging from "girl, let me tell you what happened to me!" and "girl, I can completely relate!" And, while a huge chunk of me is appreciative that I'm not the only person who has to endure utter and complete mess on occasion, it saddens me to know that everyone else is dealing with the same trifling-ass n!ggas too.

Why?

What is it about our alma mater, our community, and our society that allows men to trample all over us? Does it begin when we settle for less? When we settle for a non-title when we know we deserve one? When we turn a blind eye to his flirting because we're "just friends" and he's not really hurting anyone? How about when we let a handful of lies slide because we ultimately know what the truth is and "it's not really that big of a deal". We let these problems escalate. I know I did at least. And what about those instances when we ignore our gut? A woman's intuition is a powerful thing. I need to learn to let mine guide me and stop second-guessing every thing she brings to light.

Why, when one of our girls is sad, do we try to top each other with painful stories of how we've been done wrong? Yes, it's funny to us, and it brightens our mood, because the stories are so incredibly ridiculous! He has a child that you didn't know about? He has impregnated his baby mama AGAIN? He got a girlfriend WHILE y'all were talking? (Hand raised - me too!) He tried to talk to you knowing he was in a relationship? He let you go tit-for-tat with his girl and stood on the sidelines blameless? He's MARRIED?! What the ham sandwich is going on in the world? These things are not okay! It's not okay. And, I would say "women, we have to do better" but a lot of my girls who experience these things are innocent in the situation. They were led to believe in a false reality. They were sold dreams... and devastated to wake up from them.

I will admit, I fell asleep smiling last night. I learned some new facts about the GF that gave me brand new perspective. Ol' girl had just gotten out of a relationship when she and The Boy started one. Rebounding asses. They deserve each other. She has also been described (objectively) as immature, boy-crazy, a girly-girl, thirsty for attention but otherwise "cool". "She seems cool," is what I keep hearing. Okay.

Whatever. I'm not mad at her. Though her nasty emails are what warranted this investigation, I'm luckily too swamped with work to continue to worry about her. But HIM. SMH. I can only imagine what is in store for him. It's not my battle. I know. He's in my past. I don't need to worry about him. I need to let him go... don't lecture me, I know these things.

I'm just saying. Membership in the "He Did Me Wrong" Sorority is too costly. Who wants to join such a sad little organization anyway? Problem is, once you express interest in a deadbeat man (knowingly or unknowingly), you have no way to predict your dues. It could cost you a year of your life... maybe four... maybe more. Praise God for the day when you can call the situation a "lesson learned" and begin to move on with your life.... offering sound words of advice to the neophytes as they join. I'll thank God that my haze is over. I'm still reeling from Hell Night, but who in their sound mind would ever go back and RE-DO Hell Night? I think not.

I'm a member! Woo-hoo. Paid in full. What is the next step? Hm? Let me find some Sorority elders and ask them. There's no use in joining anything if you can't network and learn from others... so "helloooooooo... what's next?" Sisterly relations? Regionals? National Conference?

I guess Sisterly Relations would be the "I-Can-Top-That" stories shared over late night phone calls saturated with wine. Regionals are the weekend vacays where you and your girls share updates. Nationals, in my case, equals Homecoming, where we're confronted with many of the men who DID us wrong, and we're forced to look, feel and be FLYER THAN EVER so that those same raggedy-ass dudes can cry themselves to sleep at night when they reflect upon their dumbass decisions that caused us to end all ties. For them, I imagine it feels like when a recovering alcoholic is confronted with a Vodka Tonic after however many months of sobriety. Kill yourself.

I'm not proud to be a member, but I'm glad to have such great sisters. Warm. Understanding. Non-judgemental. Funny. Sensitive. Real.

::sighs:: I'll ask again - what's next?

A Hug for Myself

Well. I decided to let it go. The saga that I started by sending an anonymous email has finally ended by my letting the GF have the last word. She was infuriating in her first email to me, and after I responded, her follow-up was condescending and downright rude. But you know what, had someone come at me that way, I'm not sure I would have reacted differently. What's trifling is that he let her do it. He provided ammunition and obscured me to be the villain; the psychotic ex; the groupie; the jump off; the silly girl who couldn't let it go.

My friends have been comforting to me - each in their own way. But, no one has been in my shoes, or felt what I'm feeling. I cannot honestly expect to get a sound word out of advice from any of them. People cannot give what they don't have.

So, if I were my friend, this is what I would say to myself:

[HUGE BEAR HUG] "Girl. I know. I know... let it out. You never thought it would come to this, right? I know. It's okay. Let it out.

You deserve so much better. And I'm not saying that to be cliche or because you're my girl. I'm saying it because it's true. Look at him. Really, see him for who he is. He has never made an effort to put a title on your relationship. He has never defended you or stood up for you in this situation or any other. In college, when girls were staring at you crazy, he LET that happen. Now, he has forwarded all of your email addresses to his new girlfriend. He is not standing up for you. He is lying about you, dragging your name through the mud, and ruining your reputation. I know it's difficult to let it go. I know it is. But you can't continue to feed the beast. It will only escalate. You have to be the one to put an end to it - even if it's a passive end.

Do you see the way he looks at her? The way he introduces her? The way he references her? He never did that for you. Ever. And you deserve that from someone. You do. Someone who DOES have a job. Someone who DOES have a career path. Someone with money in the bank. Someone who is honest. Someone with goals. The man you deserve respects women. He doesn't indulge in drama. He doesn't treat people like "things". He respects feelings. His word is his bond. He listens. He cares. He's selfless. He's mature. He's handsome. He's humble. He's thoughtful. He's well traveled. He's well read. He's gentle. He will compliment you perfectly.

He won't lie about who you are, how he feels about you, how he felt about you, or the status of your relationship. He won't deny your past because it's convenient for his present. He won't drop you for something shiny and new. He won't remain silent as others attack you. He won't put you in emotionally draining situations.

He will admire you. He will build you up. He will catch you when you fall. He will honor you. He will trust you. He will earn your trust. He will respect you. He will love you. He will LOVE you.

[Rubbing back] You will get through this. I know it's hard. I know you're disappointed, and frustrated, and confused. I know you're hurt. I KNOW you're hurt. And I know it feels like God is looking over you... passing you by. But He is not. Maybe THIS is what it would take for you to finally cut that negative man out of your life. Maybe the 2nd, 5th, 9th and 15th times were not enough. But the great thing about God is that He is patient and understanding. Before you even met that boy, God knew what the outcome would be - and He knew how long it would take for you to learn your lesson. So praise God that the time has finally come. Move forward. Clear you heart of all anguish and pain. Clear you heart of all turmoil. Pray for forgiveness of self. Forgive the very one who has caused you this pain. Move forward. You will need a clean heart and a renewed spirit for the Love that God has in store for you. You will need energy, and humility and room for Love. If you remain bitter and heartbroken, there will be no room for the joys that your future love has to offer.

Make peace with this. Take your time... but know that as soon as this chapter is over, you can begin the next one. It is up to you how long that will take. He treated you badly, and that was wrong. But YOU cannot fix his heart. YOU cannot win this war. Sending emails and trying to explain the situation to her are futile efforts. Being catty and snide in response to her is childish. He has already won her trust. And she is clearly blinded by, eh, whatever it is they have for each other. You cannot direct this show. You cannot control the next moves. Know this though - he will pay for what he has done. Your email war with this girl, and heart wrenching sadness, and sleepless nights, and daily agonizing, and persistent headaches, and loss of appetite, and endless soul searching are your penance. You have surely gained what you needed from this situation and God knows how sorry you are. You made decisions - some good, some bad - and have paid the price for them. Move forward. Leave him behind. Grow. Open you heart for what God has in store.

I love you. And there's nothing you can do to ever make me stop loving you. You are a beautiful person, and it pains me to see you go through this. I'm so sorry that there's nothing more that I can do. But you are a strong person. You are resilient. You deserve more. And, more is on the way. Leave him behind. Love yourself enough to leave him behind. Love yourself enough to ignore her rude comments. Love yourself enough to leave both of them in their places - in your rearview mirror. Move forward."

::sighs:: Deep breaths. He told her I was a jump off. He has implied that I mean/meant nothing to him. I know what I did was fucked up, and I apologize for that. I sincerely do. I don't feel the need to say that directly to either of them - but I will send that sentiment into the universe. I am remorseful. I have learned not to let my emotions get the best of me. I have also learned not to let a man have the best of me - particularly when he is a slimy, manipulative, self-serving, lying-ass, backstabbing, insecure, immature, ego-maniacal pig.

That felt nice.

[Bear hug for myself]

God makes all things new and I will follow Him FORWARD.

Conventional Wisdom

It's unfortunate that it has taken me so long to appreciate the conventional wisdom of my mom and my grandparents.

It's only in candid, confidential conversations that I begin to learn who my mother, and my grandparents, really are. And through these conversations I begin to ask: why did it take 25 years for us to get here?

I've been talking to my mom almost every day now. I love it. She has let her guard down in a way that I don't believe I would have seen were it not for the Lymphoma. Truthfully, we've been able to laugh easily since I was in college. I guess by that point I had proven myself to the degree at which she could alleviate some of her own stressors. After graduation, we overcame another hurdle, and new conversation topics were then acceptable. Now that I'm working, paying my own bills, and she has encountered a slightly-non-threatening sickness, it feels as though (almost) nothing is off the table. I love it.

Earlier today (on this fine 4th of July!) I was making my way from Saturday Night Service to a BBQ when I decided to do my daily check-in. Mom groggily answered the phone, and once I confirmed that I hadn't interrupted her sleep, we began to catch up. We discussed the nature of the sermon, her most recent doctor appointment, my mid-term grade and the dirtiness of my apartment. "Well, don't worry about it," she said. "WHAT?" I exclaimed, laughing. "I don't think I've ever heard you say something like that," I chuckled. "Well, your Mamaw (that's what we call our grandma) always says 'don't worry about stuff like that - it'll work itself out.'" I smiled. This was true. The cleanliness of my one-bedroom apartment was honestly the least of my troubles.

It's not even that my mom and I exchanged any profound words in our most recent call; it's that the repetition, and progression of these calls grows more intense and more earnest as each day passes. And, as I reflect upon my post from this time last year, I'm reminded of my lightheartedness at the time and surprised by my current growth. I was so carefree when I was en route to The Taste in 2008. Now that I'm facing real life challenges, and enduring a number of hardships simultaneously, I see that my priorities have completely shifted... and I'm okay with that. Then, I'd rather charge a trip and get drunk with college friends. Now, I'd rather go to church and talk to my mom... and then get drunk with friends for free at a later hour :-).

While the past two months have undoubtedly been difficult, I'm looking forward to what July - December have to offer. Brighter days - I hope. ::sighs:: Tonight's cookout was full of beer, mojitos and grass. I'm completely relaxed and comfortable as I recount the past 12 hours. But I know that tomorrow I'll wake up, sobered and lonely, to face a new day with only the spirit of God at my side. And, I'm okay with that too. I just can't wait until that's no longer the case.. (the lonely part, that is).

It will happen. Trouble don't last always. And, if my mom's conventional wisdom has taught me anything, it is this: THERE'S ALWAYS HOPE. Looking forward to tomorrow...

God's Magic. Mommy's Touch.

I thought I was slipping into a mild depression at one point. Now, I don’t think that’s what the issue was. I may have been overwhelmed by all of the things happening in my life simultaneously, but I think the worst of it has passed. My family has gotten a lot closer over the past few months, which is an incredible blessing. It’s sad that someone’s health has to fail them before we realize how important they are to us. I talk to my mom every day now. I talk to my dad every other day. I pray more often. I’ve seen aunts, uncles and cousins more in the past few months than I have in recent years combined. And our exchanges are pleasant. No one begrudgingly hugs another and silently questions where they have been since 2007. We’re genuinely happy to see one another. I’m learning so much about my dad’s side of the family that it makes my head spin. There are so many dark secrets, and skeletons buried deep within our ancestral closet. And yet, with every new discovery, I feel closer to the cousins and extended family members I’ve grown to love over the past 25 years.

My cousin and I went to visit my brother this weekend to christen his new apartment, and celebrate the new chapter in his life: becoming a grown up. His job is treating him well, his new home is lovely, and girlfriend is playing “wife” with more ease every time I see her. Friday night when we arrived, the three of us sat on his patio sipping beer and discussing the estrangement of our oldest uncle (my dad’s brother) from the rest of the family. We hypothesized the many reasons he could have cut off an entire network of his life – sisters, brothers, and an ailing mother. It could have been my grandfather’s death. It could have been the new man that entered Grandma’s life once my grandfather passed. It could have been the pressure of being the oldest. Perhaps there were life challenges that he met in the Navy that changed his perspective about the value of family. We’ll never really know.

On the car ride home my cousin and I discussed my grandmother’s inevitable funeral. Would our long-lost uncle even attend? Would there be tension if he showed up? Would there be tension if he didn’t? You know, just being around family is one of the most therapeutic treatments life has offered me recently. I find myself smiling more. Laughing, even. There’s a genuine, unspoken love that fills a room - even when it is silent - when you’re around family.

It’s my dad’s mom who is sick and drifting. So, I’ve been spending lots of time with his brothers and sisters as they make their way in town to see her. With every hug, however, is a question about my mother. Though they have their own mom to worry about, they embrace me with more warmth because they know how difficult it is on a child to watch a parent endure hardship. There’s no hierarchy with them. No priority of their pain over mine; over my mom’s. We’re a family and we have to get through all of this together.

None of my friends have been able to say or do anything that has fully comforted me over the past two months. Granted, unless someone has been in the exact same situation, there’s no amount of advice or comfort they could really offer anyway. How have I been getting through this? The love of God. An unwavering embrace and extension of love from Her… though I cannot say that I’ve done the same in return. I have been so frustrated and confused and hurt and angry. Some mornings I’ve woken up peacefully, knowing that this was all a part of God’s plan. Some mornings I’ve woken up dreading the day before me, begging for God to hurry up with this lesson and let me move forward. But, regardless of my mood or immediate reaction to this trial, I have managed to keep going.

I never realized how important extended family was until now. It’s a difficult, albeit beautiful, lesson that God has taught me. My grandmother is bringing me closer to family I rarely, if ever, speak to. We’re planning family trips and reuniting on multiple levels now. That’s a blessing. We’re building unspoken connections through our pain. These connects will sustain themselves forever, I’m sure. We’re a lot tougher than we think we are. Everyone is planning to surprise my dad with a visit in a few weeks. I expressed to them that I was worried about how he was handling all of this. He admitted that he wasn’t doing a great job of taking it all in. And so, his brothers and sisters are rising to the occasion… God’s incomprehensible magic at work.

I talk to my mom every day now. Unsolicited phone calls from me while I’m working, driving, sitting, dozing… I appreciate her so much more. And that’s a blessing. I still have so much to learn from her, to ask her, to emulate. What better time to start than now? Her strength, courage and wisdom… her faithfulness to God… her steadfast and confident spirit… her retreat from life stressors… her sense of humor in the midst of it all… her life coaching skills… her unyielding maternal instincts… her sharpness… her blond moments… her ability to support herself… her ability to ask for help… I want to be like her when I grow up.

And God, I need for her to stick around.

Enough Already!

As if I don't have enough on my mind.

This weekend was a full one. I kicked off Friday afternoon (thank God for Summer Fridays!) with a "Bitch Session Happy Hour" with co-workers. It relieved a lot of stress and left me in my happy place - full of chips & salsa and tipsy off of house margaritas. I babysat that night, dozing off to re-runs of TNT original programming.

Saturday began nicely enough. I slept in, then headed to an annual bday pool party for a good friend of mine. After a few hours of basking in the sun, I made my way to a separate bday get-together for one of my linesisters. A lot of our other linesisters had made the voyage down from NYC to help her celebrate, and I wanted to be sure I saw everyone before they left. I arrived to her apartment, tan and tipsy. Pleasantries were exchanged. And man, I was genuinely happy to sit around, sipping beer, with such esteemed ladies. Though we were all around the same age, I admired these women so much for their progress in their professional lives, their fashion sense, their humor, their warmth... I had been anxious to finally chat with my college peers about some of the things going on in my life. I knew they'd each be able to relate to the man-drama, the work-drama, the family-drama... and I was 100% confident that SOMEONE would offer me a little tidbit of advice that would help put things in perspective for me. How did each of them endure hardships and remain fly in the process? How did they make the tough times seem so easy?

But instead, we talked mostly on the superficial level about work and our readiness to move on to the "next phase" in our individual lives - whatever that may be... Slightly disappointed about the lack of depth in our conversation (mind you, they were all getting dressed & ready for the club that night) I took it in stride, and continued the glossed-over convo topics until they were ready to go. Beer in hand, I joked to one linesister about twitter and how she had yet to approve my "follow" request. I still don't quite understand why people protect their updates... but okay. It was at that point she said she had a "bone to pick" with me. WTF? Was she serious?

In typical Michele fashion, I racked my brain trying to figure out exactly what - if anything - she could be upset about. She and I hardly ever kept in touch, and saw each other on rare occasions, such as this one, when lots of sorority sisters happened to be in the same place. Come to find out, she was upset over something I supposedly said to her ex-boyfriend in 2006. This was a time in my life when I was devastated over the boy (much like I am now) and found myself at the gym almost every afternoon. From time to time, Anisa would come with, and we'd jog along my alma mater's track in early evening hours. Of course, there were tons of other students and post grads with the same mentality - running/jogging along the track, and playing soccer on the field. So, summer evenings became somewhat of a skit, with everyone half-working-out, half-socializing after work or after class.

My LS's newly ex-boyfriend noticed Anisa and asked me "what her deal was". Knowing that he had just broken up with my LS, I was in somewhat of an awkward position. In honesty, I told him she was single - nothing more. However, when he translated the story back to my LS, it was I who initiated the hook-up, pushing Anisa onto him in a twisted, malicious attempt to somehow ruin... I don't even know. The shit just doesn't even make sense. Anisa wasn't even FEELING him, which make the story all the more preposterous. Whatever.

As if I don't have enough on my mind.

SHE had a BONE to pick with ME?! Sweetheart - you're three years too late. Why didn't you bring this up then and there? We could have nipped it in the bud, and all would be long forgotten. Second - he's LYING. Now, of course you'll believe your man, or ex-man, or whatever he is, before me. I get that. But please believe that meddling like that it not my style (unless the situation pertains directly to me) and I respect(ed) you way too much to ever do something like that. "Water under the bridge," she called it after she'd gotten that off of her chest. Oh. You have no idea. I'm officially over you, and everyone else who even thinks of bringing added drama into my life. I have no space for it.

::Sighs:: On Sunday I volunteered at my church, had brunch with friends, picked up Ruby for two hours of bonding, and then headed to a bday cookout. The time with Ruby was positive but draining. I watched her splash around my apartment pool (begging me repeatedly to get in with her - but to no avail), then fed her ice cream over a few Hannah Montana episodes. I gave her a mini-manicure and made a deal with her that if she read 10 books over the summer, I'd get her an iPod. See. I'm trying to be a good person. The cookout was fun (even though I was SO exhausted). After a few Bacardi-Pineapples I loosened up and chatted with Melanie about even more weekend drama that I hadn't even been aware of. Whenever too many women (esp. sorority sisters) get around each other, there's like a 24-hour threshold before we start plotting to devour one of our own. Sad but true.

Blah, blah, blah. Watched the SATC Movie last night and cried my eyes out. I'm convinced it was a by product of sleeplessness, PMS, and residual sadness regarding the boy. When will I move past him? When will I stop caring about his every move? His every thought? His bear hugs...? Ufck it, I miss him. Okay? Even though he has hurt me again, and broadcasts his every thought of her via gchat, and plasters love song lyrics on his facebook wall (soliciting "thumbs up" and "likes this" comments from HER in every. single. instance)... I'm still curious to know how he's REALLY doing. Does being "strong" mean I will never talk to him again? That seems as much a disservice to me as it is to him. If I call him, does that make me "weak"? Will I even care this time next Monday when Aunt Flow has come and gone?

And how does any of this compare to the health of my mother or grandmother? It doesn't. Where are my priorities?

Who knows. Who cares.

Whatever.

The Valley

I drove home for Memorial Day weekend to attend a funeral. A friend's brother passed away, and the service commemorating his life was taking place that Sunday. Before I made it home, though, I was alerted that my mother was back in the hospital. She'd been having trouble sleeping, trouble breathing, and overall weakness in her body. Guess the bear hug I needed from her was going to have to wait. This weekend, she needed me more.

I arrived in my hometown too late to visit her that night. She was scheduled for release the next day, and I was prepared to take care of her in any way that she needed. My brother and his future wife made it in town about 30 minutes after I did (close to 1:00 am). Dad was asleep and Paris was busy on her laptop... so I watched a movie to calm my nerves about the next day's events.

I woke up Saturday morning, dialed Mom, and found out she wouldn't be coming home any time soon. The doctors were awaiting test results and, since many of them had the holiday weekend off (!!), she would be spending the next three days cooped up in a hospital room. WTF. So, in eldest child fashion, I began knocking on bedroom doors and rounding up the troops. "Get up!" I said, brushing tears off of my cheeks, "we're going to the hospital."

I headed downstairs for a quick pep talk with Corinne. Both of her parents had just finished rounds of Chemo, and I needed to know what I was in for. Granted, I was jumping to conclusions as no one had mentioned the word "cancer" just yet, but I needed to know what to do. How was I supposed to handle this?

Corinne did her best to reassure me, and I jumped into the shower so that we could leave. Once we arrived to her room, I opened the door surprised and elated to see my grandparents and Aunt seated around the room alongside my father. Sighs of relief. She was not alone. We exchanged warm welcomes and found our places (chairs, window sills, the foot of the bed, etc.). We were going to be there for awhile. The day was passing quietly enough when yet another troubling bit of news came to us by phone. My paternal grandmother, God bless her, was suffering from dementia. Though my dad and his own siblings had moved her to an assisted living home, her health was starting to get the better of her. She had suffered a few mini-strokes over the past weeks (unbeknownst to my aunts and uncles), and wasn't in good shape. She was having trouble recognizing her own children's faces. She was weak....

When it rains it pours.

My siblings and I left around 4:00 to grab dinner, and returned (after a brief nap) to spend the evening with Mom. She was a bit groggy and obviously tired, but she was not defeated. I love that lady. By 11:30, after the Lakers BARELY slid by the Nuggets, it was time to give Mom some rest. Both my little bro and I were too weirded out by the day's events to go straight home - so we headed to a hookah bar. He, his girlfriend and I partook of Watermelon and Blue Ice hookah along with bottomless cocktails that night. After awhile, we began to feel the effects of the smoke and spirits, and had a quiet breakdown at the corner patio table. I started it. We were talking about how great our parents were, and how strong they had been in raising us. The mere thought of anything remotely negative happening to her became too much to bear. Then my bro was in tears. Thinking about Grandma, and our family as a whole, and how devastating it would be for Dad if anything - in either situation - went awry.

Whew.

Sunday, I woke up exhausted but oddly refreshed after some much needed rest. I got dressed and headed to the funeral. For the most part, I was able to stay together, shedding a tear every now and then as thoughts of other potential funerals began to cloud my thoughts. Had to shake those off... Funerals, though tragic, are often beautiful. The poems, testimonies and words that family members used to express their remembrance of the deceased were beautiful. The most poignant statement to me, came from his father. He said that family had to hold on to one another in times like this. Others may try to console you, and express their regret, but their words won't necessarily mean that much when you are grieving. Only those others who have experienced your exact same loss will understand and truly be able to offer comfort. He said "do not take advice from people who have not been in your situation; people cannot give what they don't have." How true. And, I sought to apply that in my own life. While I was worried about my mom, my grandmother, and my now-deceased relationship with the boy (why was I even still thinking about that?!) I could only look to God to truly help me. Friends with parents who had fought cancer would be helpful. Family members or friends with ailing grandparents might offer insights here and there. Any girl with a broken heart knows what it feels like to have someone she loves bite the dust. But, the culmination of these things all at once? Having one's heart and mind stretched to capacity in a matter of hours? Who can advise on that? ::sighs::

Monday was better, but I dreaded having to leave. I had so much on my mind. I had so many questions. I had so much to say. And I needed help! I needed my Mommy to tell me what to do; to help make things right. So, I went alone to visit her. We sat and talked; we watched TV. And, as I was packing up my things to leave, I broke down again. I was crying about so many things that I couldn't even get the words out. Nurses entered and left to change her IV, take her temperature, and offer assistance. I just sat there, cradled in her left arm, waiting for them to leave.

We talked about relationships, and being single until you're thirty. I feel like that's the road I'm on these days. She said to me "I think you're worried about this because you see your brother with his girlfriend all the time. If he didn't bring her to every thing, you probably wouldn't even be focused on it." She was right. And while I didn't mention all of the devastating things that had happened in my own love life lately, her comment did put a few things in perspective. Why was I still trippin' about that estranged young man? Hellooooo. That ship has sailed.

We talked about how she was going to be just fine. Seeing me cry was going to make her cry. We all needed to just keep our spirits up and know that God was going to handle it. Had all of this church-going taught me nothing?! Of course God was going to handle it. Everything was going to be just fine!

24-Hour Rule

Cece has this thing called the 24-Hour Rule. I don’t know how the hell she came up with it, or how she manages to stick to it. The basic premise is this: do not allow yourself to experience any intense emotion for longer than 24 hours. If something exciting happens, you can only be joyous for 24 hours. If you feel like dog poo, you can only cry and sulk for 24 hours.

Thursday was hard. Emotionally, it was the most difficult day I’ve had in a very, very long time. It was hard to concentrate. I found myself blankly staring at my computer screen, going through the motions, just trying to make it shedding as few tears as possible. I took many bathroom breaks. My face was pale. My nose was red. I can only hope my occasional sniffles didn’t bother the cube mate who sits across the aisle from me. Maybe he just thinks I have allergies or something. Who cares.

By the afternoon, I was over my meager attempts at work, and found myself surfing YouTube for ANYTHING that might make the afternoon more bearable. Voila. I found the last five episodes of “The Game” that I had never gotten around to watching. The CW gave them a terrible time slot and wonders why the show doesn’t perform?! When the show is inevitably cancelled, it will be missed. The mixture of drama, comedy and real-life reactions are all too powerful and hit extremely close to home these days. [SPOILER ALERT] In the final episodes, the sexiest character (named Jason) ends up in jail for fighting Kelly’s “beau”. In a touching visitation session, Jason and Kelly have a heart-to-heart and really begin re-connect. All drama aside, it’s clear that these two still care about one another. Kelly pre-maturely develops this idea that she and her ex-husband will reunite and all will be well in the world. She looks at his jail time and trial as a sign that God is ‘bringing them back together’. As soon as he gets off, however, he embraces Kelly and thanks her, then proceeds to run to the arms of his new girlfriend. How fitting.

Brittany Daniel isn’t necessarily the best actress, but I swear she captured real emotion in those last scenes. And, I did appreciate that Derwin and Mel wound up together after all the drama. I mean – that really is what it’s all about. How do you know that you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, for better or worse, until you endure all the triumphs and failures of a relationship? Well, you have to make it through a variety of trying situations and hold steadfast to the person beside you – for better or worse. I know it’s just a show, but watching young black couples make it on television is rare – especially in a manner that I can relate to. It restored in me a tiny bit of faith in relationships. A tiny piece.

Today is a new day. After work (yay for Summer Fridays!) I’m heading home with Anisa to see my parents, attend a funeral, and hopefully get some much needed rest. Rest from work, my personal life, and anything else that’s plaguing me right now. I’m looking forward to mom hugging me. I’m looking forward to dad’s cooking. I’m looking forward to some fresh air.

Since I’m just now subscribing to the “24 Hour Rule,” I might make a slight amendment for the first go-round and grant myself 48. Deep breaths. Everything is going to be okay…

Untitled

Am I being punished?

I had this same thought the summer after I graduated. Had I done something so terribly wrong that I deserved to feel used, betrayed and manipulated? The following summer, in 2007, was slightly better. I had managed to pick myself up and heal most of my wounds. But one fateful evening in February of 2008, my phone rang. It was him. We talked for five hours. FIVE. I was in awe, and shocked, and pleased all at once. Was it possible?! Could I really get my friend back?

Weeks later I visited Dionne and saw him. We re-connected. A few months after that, I visited him alone. I was of sound mind, and fully capable of managing a platonic relationship with him. Even if we did slip up now and then, and regress back into our old non-relationship ways... I was okay with it. I understood the parameters of our friendship and knew that nothing more would ever bloom from seeds sewn so long ago.

But, as we had done before, our friendship began to intensify. In 2008 we were talking twice a week... then three times a week... by autumn it was every day. By winter it was every night, some mornings and gchatting while at work. There was New Years and Valentine's Day. There were our birthdays. He told me he loved me. And, I began to think "what if" and "why not?" It felt nice, and it was going well. And we were only three driving hours apart. And he was being so sweet and paying so much attention to me. And... And... And then, suddenly and without warning, it was over. Just like that. Over. The person he told me he "met" was actually a young woman who had been to visit him before. They had been e-mailing, and talking and building something long before he ever thought to mention it to me. Bits and pieces of an explanation eventually painted a picture of the truth for me. The WHOLE truth; not just the truth he wanted me to see. A nasty email was sent. There were two weeks of silent treatment. I broke the silence. Choice words were exchanged. And finally, there was closure.

But this morning I woke up weeping. I fell to my knees, in a bath towel and shower cap, begging for forgiveness, peace of mind, the ability to move on, the capacity to STOP THINKING ABOUT HIM. "Please! Please, please, please, please, please," I rocked back and forth. Never mind I would be late to work. Never mind the extreme highs God had given me in the days immediately following the bad news. I was deep in the valley. I am deep in the valley. It hurts.

And what is it, exactly, that I'm hurt about? Did I think that we really had potential? No. But, I so hoped that we would. I hoped that something magical would happen and make all of our differences manageable. Yes, he's Catholic and I'm Baptist. That's okay, right? No. We have staunch religious beliefs that neither of us are willing to compromise on. Yes, I will venture to New England for grad school, and he will stay in the South. Pah! Did I really think we would be "just friends" for 4+ years without one of us finding intrigue in another person? That's laughable. Honestly. He doesn't believe in pre-nuptial agreements. I do. He wants lots of kids. I don't. I'm a giver. He's a taker. And, would I ever fully be able to let go of the pain I felt so long ago from college? Or, would I always secretly hold him accountable for past mistakes, and leverage said mistakes in any argument of my choosing? That's no way to build a relationship.

He said he wanted to get away from everything that reminded him of his "college self". He said he has bigger and better plans for himself, and he knows that I will do great things as well. He said he handled it the best way he knew how to, and still I'm upset with him. He doesn't know what he could have done differently. I had the freedom to date other people and chose not to. He met someone who inspires him, captivates him, and he has fallen hard for her (quickly, I might add).

Don't I deserve the same thing? Well, I know that I do. One source of my frustration, however, is that he is able to find happiness so quickly with someone else and I have NO IDEA when I will find the same. I know that God has Divine Timing, but where does it say that we must suffer such heartache in the meantime? I'm aching! I feel like something was stolen from me. I feel blindsided and rejected. I feel alone.

About a year ago I wrote that I had "all the answers" for women who were desperate for a man. I knew exactly what to say to women who use the "boo status" as a backdoor to a relationship. Now, I'm looking at myself and I'm starting to feel pathetic. Is that not what I have just spent the past months doing, myself? Telling myself if I just wait it out, and remain patient, and give him what he wants... that he will come around. The truth of the matter is that you cannot settle for less. You have to demand - yes, DEMAND - the respect you deserve. If you want a relationship and he does not, then keep it moving. If he can get "relationship-like" qualities out of you without giving you an appropriate label, then why won't he? Meanwhile, while you're pining for him, and rejecting guys who seek to court you, he's out searching for a wife! He will leave you in the cold! And who will you have to blame?

This is not 100% my fault. He could and should have been more forthright and honest with me about this new girl. By the same token, was I not listening when he said "I love how fluid our relationship is... and that you're cool with it." Yes. I was present for that statement. He did not want what I wanted. No amount of patience was going to fix that. He told me he "wasn't ready for a relationship" which I believed. Somehow, this woman has managed to change his mind. I can't even be mad at that. He and I were not compatible. Maybe they are. Only God knows for sure.

When it occurred to me that I really wanted something more, and it wasn't something that he would be able to provide, then I should have moved on. I should have sacrificed my superficial contentment with our "situation" for the inevitable great relationship that I know God has in store for me. Even if it meant being alone. Especially if it meant being alone. I'm too good for this bullshit. I'm looking forward to the day I can say "I've cried my last tears" over him.

I will ask the Lord to grant me that privilege today, tonight, tomorrow morning... as long as it takes. I'm so over this! So, so, so over this. I can't believe I let myself fall back into this trap. I can't believe I'm obsessing over him like this. I desperately want to move on but can't seem to figure out how. I lean on my friends when I can, and then go home and beat myself up for making the same mistake twice. Anisa thinks I'm so strong, which I love. But, I have a secret. Strength, in my situation, involves: Weeping in the morning, applying my "strong face" with Mac blush, Almay eyeliner and nude lipgloss, praying often, laughing occasionally, heading home, and sleeping in a fetal position - tears streaming down my face - hoping that the night will last just a few hours longer to delay another painful morning. That doesn't feel like strength. It feels average.

Whatever. What. Ever. This is not the end of the world - just the end of a friendship. He was in my life for a season, and it's time to move past it. He already has, so really, there isn't much to even hold on to. I need to get that through my thick skull. This is over. It's over. The end.

Holy Ghost

Holy Ghost
Fall down on me
Let your Spirit
Fall down on me

Holy Ghost
Fall down on me
Let your Spirit
Fall down on me

Create in me
A new heart, O God
And renew the right spirit
Within me

Cast me not away from thy presence, O God
Take not thy Holy Spirit from me

Holy Ghost
Fall down on me
Let your Spirit
Fall down on me

Holy Spirit
Help me to walk right
Talk right
Live right
Help me to be right
I’ll never do anything
Without you leading, Spirit

Holy Spirit

Cast me not away from thy presence, O Lord
Take not your Spirit from me

Holy Ghost
Fall down on me








[I’m begging]

God Speaks, Pt. 2

After dinner, I snuck out (leftovers in hand) to head to the Bilal concert. I was meeting a guy friend for the show, and calling it a date to make myself feel better about life. I paid for my own ticket, but he kept the drinks flowing. I felt good about it. The opening act was cool, but when Bilal took the stage - my GOD. A whole new energy poured into the venue. I was on my 4th Vodka Tonic and catching a contact before he even got halfway into the first song. He performed a mixture of songs from his unreleased album "Love for Sale," and the better-known album, "First Born Second." The crowd hooped and hollered with every riff, ad-lib, and solo. But the most triumphant moment of the evening was when everyone detected the opening chords for "Sometimes."

I wish I could find a way to describe the pure euphoria of those ten minutes. I felt something stirring in my soul as I watched Bilal sing, scream, whisper and speak the lyrics of the song. Not one mouth was closed as everyone in the venue sang along. "This is a song that makes me spill out all my guts, sometimes! I wish I wasn't me... sometimes!" brothas yelled. I saw the hands of God tugging at everyone's hearts. He was working in the smoky, sweaty hole-in-the-wall club. "I wish I knew the truth without searching!" I exclaimed. Happy. Hurt. Peaceful. I was in awe of the experience. People weren't just singing - they were releasing. "...Sometimes, you ain't good to me and I am good to you and you don't see my intentions the way that I do, sometimes," we all pleaded. Eyes were closed, sweat was dripping off of foreheads, sistas were rocking back and forth with hands in the air. "Hey Slim, you should be nicer than you are sometimes," I screamed. Yesssss! This is what I'm saying! Yesssss! "You got me wishin' I didn't HAVE HOME TRAINING SOMETIMES." Get out of my head, Bilal.

"I wish I knew life with nooooo pain, sometimes. I wish I held the keys to this game, sometimes," we all cheered. "...I'm sayin' it because I love you, and I wanna grow with you baby. But you wanna run in the other direction, so, I got to stay on my path until I win! I win! I win! I win! I wanna win... I wanna win..." We're jumping up and down now. We're rejoicing. We're releasing. Everyone else knows the words to our favorite song. We all feel the same way. We all have something bottled up inside and right here, right now, in this place, at this moment, with the rest of our beautiful black brothers and sisters, we're getting it out.

I was close to tears. And, I was centered, and peaceful for the rest of the evening. It was like attending an ultra-alternative church service. The Reverend was preaching through song, and the hymns moved through us like holy water. I had called on God. I had begged Him to have mercy on me, and help me through this rough patch. God did just that.

THEEEENNNNNN I met my IDOL - Eric Roberson! I know that idolatry is a sin, but Erro is a genius, and I was elated to meet him. In my drunken stupor, I said to my date "that's Eric! I'm going to go say hi." LOL. I waltzed right up to him and introduced myself. I told him I loved his music, that I come to all of his shows in the city (except for the most recent one due to a prior engagement), and that during one show in particular, when he and Algebra had forgotten the words to a song, I was the one in the audience singing loudly to remind them what the words were. At that time, he had tried to send the mic my way, but I shied away, dodged the mic, and retreated into the audience. He remembered me! I told him I loved the new stuff he had on his blog, and that he should leak more tunes for fans like me. I also commented to him that we had the same alma mater which had him beaming. We produce some talented individuals, I tell ya'. We took a picture together, I told him it was a pleasure to meet him, and then I bounced. How fulfilling.

Sunday morning, I picked up Ruby and headed to church. (Real, conventional church with an ordained pastor and everything). The sermon was about Graduating and respecting the PAUSE that God places in our lives. The metaphor Pastor Olu used was this: after our last final, and before we walk across the stage, every senior has to pause. They have to wait for their grades and pray that those credits add up! It is during that time they should and must reflect. God is about to move them into a new place in their life. By the same token, we don't have to be a student for God to graduate any of us to a new place in our life. There are peaks and there are valleys. In order for God to get us from one mountaintop to another, we have to pause in the valley, assess our relationship with HIM, and sometimes, we have to let some things go. God wishes that we would just TRUST in Him sometimes. Yes, it's painful now to have to let a person in our life go, but if we would just trust in the Lord and believe that He has something better planned for us - we could reach that next mountaintop so much faster! We get so consumed with everyone else. We feel like God has pulled us over on the interstate, and all of our friends are just whizzing past us. Why has God made us pause? Because He as something SO GREAT in store for us... and He needs us to stop for a second, and prepare ourselves, and meditate, and concentrate, and align ourselves with HIM. Amen? Amen.

I'm growing.

I had been trying my hardest to stick with that boy. I had compromised myself a number of times. I had compromised my feelings. I had compromised my heart. I had compromised my health. The only way God was going to get me to wake up was if the boy did something so drastic... so devastating... that I had no other choice but to throw in the towel. I obviously had not learned my lesson the last time. I had manged to overlook so many "little lies" and so many uncomfortable situations. But this was the last straw. I mean, I'm worth so much more. And he was bringing less and less to the table. God had to do something dramatic so that I would pay attention. That doesn't mean it hurts any less. But I see clearly now.

I'm also having to learn to stop beating myself up all the time. Of course I tried hard to make it work. I'm built that way. Giving up is way harder than trying. I didn't do anything wrong. And, females find themselves in the exact same situation as me all the time. I should never apologize for doing my best. And that's all I did. I gave him the best of me, though he did not really deserve it. And, to be honest, the boy is already forgiven. Because this situation is not about him and me. It's about what God wants for our lives. We're better off apart. I will have to learn to love him from a distance. While I will miss our conversations about good music, and good books, and politics, and stupid things we've seen in the media... I will find new outlets for these conversations. I will move forward and (try to) not look back. I have no other choice.

Ruby and I went to a baseball game after church, and while she played in the kids section, I phoned my mom for a quick chat. She could tell by the sound of my voice that I was feeling better. I was. I told her about my weekend, and what I was learning about God. She was proud of me. I'm proud of me. The Lord is working in my life in ways that I don't fully understand just yet. But I'm breathing sighs of relief. I'm thanking the Lord for blessing me in the midst of my trial. I'm overwhelmed and excited to be growing closer to Him. It's been a long time coming...

God Speaks, Pt. 1

God is good all the time. All the time, God is good.

Amen? Amen.

The best thing I did for myself this weekend was not sit in the house. I know that consuming exorbitant amounts of alcohol might be considered contradictory in terms of "signs from God"... because, well... since when does God condone drunkenness? But let me tell you something: I have grown more in my relationship with God this past week, than in all prior 24 years combined. And there was plenty of alcohol involved. God was speaking to me in my language... through friends, situations, concerts, contact highs and yes, spirits. How ironic... "Speaking to me through spirits".... He is after all, the One who turned water into wine. I'm just saying.

Friday, at around 2:45 pm, my boss sent an e-mail to our whole team telling us to pack up for the day. We were headed to The Loop for drinks and appetizers. It had been a long week. God bless that Jewish man, because he read my mind. Drinks on the boss? Count me in.

Afterwards, I met up with Melanie to finish watching the playoff games of the evening and reconcile some of the differences in our relationship (as well as vent about the boy). It was a truly meaningful conversation, and I felt so much better afterwards. In a gchat conversation the day before, I told her how much I was hurting, and that I was reluctant to talk to her about it because she was always consumed with how much she hated her job. She admitted she felt like she was slipping into a depression, and apologized for any inconvenience it may have placed on our friendship. Well, depression is no laughing matter, so we discussed her issues, and then we discussed mine. Friday night we followed up over margaritas and I had an opportunity to really pour my heart out. She was so supportive. Willing to help me in any emotional way I needed. To have non-judgemental people in your life who love you unconditionally are the only friends worth having. That's exactly the kind of friend she is.

I headed home, drunk and a little delirious after all the emotional talk, and passed out immediately. Saturday morning I woke up a tad hungover and a lot depressed. Anisa sent text messages every few hours to check on me, which I truly appreciated. I headed to the gym to run off some of my anxiety... but to no avail. I then headed to the grocery store to stock up for the next few weeks (I had been so broke, that groceries had been the last thing on my mind lately). I washed my hair, and then created a "feel better" playlist on my iPod for the blowout/flat iron routine. It helped. So did the two Miller Lights I downed in the process. I put on a fancy cocktail dress for a birthday dinner I had at 6, and started amping myself for the Bilal concert later that night. I was overdressed for the evening, but I looked damn good. I started strutting around my room, throwing my silky hair across my shoulders, and smiling at myself in the mirrors... This stupid-ass boy is an idiot. Who would ever want to give me up?? LOL.

Birthday dinner was SOOOO fun. Vodka Tonics were flowing and dinner at Papdeaux is ALWAYS amazing. Tasted even better once I figured out the birthday girl's mom was treating the entire dinner party. Yum! My spec from my sorority was at the dinner too (she happened to be the bday girl's biological older sister). I admire her so much. She's a Harvard Law grad, so I immediately brought up Yale SOM and we began talking strategy. We of course wandered into the topics of relationships (she's newly married) and had a very candid conversation about my current lovelife (or lack thereof). Of all of the advice she offered, the biggest points that stuck with me were these: I'm not the only one who deals with confused, trifling, misguided young men; There has to be a point when I assess whether or not someone DESERVES my friendship - which has nothing to do with self-esteem, or feeling haughty - and act accordingly; I cannot give someone 100% of myself if they're not willing to do the same for me. Amen. She told me that she given six years of her life to a young man who turned out to be absolutely no good for her - to the point that he's no longer allowed to even call her. She assured me that the boy will reach out to me again when his new relationship inevitably fails, and I will need to make an earnest assessment of what value he adds to my life. Yes, I know what I contribute to his... but what does he contribute to mine? If the list is short, is he worth keeping around? Honestly. Finally, she told me that, once she was able to make a clean break from six-year dude, God put her future husband in her life. They dated for six months, got engaged, and were married this past February. "When you least expect it... that's when it comes." Church!

Clutch Players

"When someone shows you who they are, believe them."
~Maya Angelou

I will say this. My friends, for all of their weaknesses, and even in light of recent events... they come through in the clutch. They're there when it matters. They pick me up when I fall. And, even when I haven't fallen... and just feel deeply disappointed in someone, or something for that matter... they stay down for the cause. Whatever I need. They are there. I'm so, so blessed.

I wish I could say the same for the boy. It's officially over. No more back and forth. No more obsessive blogging. No more denial. No more wishing, dwelling, pleading, or crying. I'm done. And you know, it's not even as emotional of a departure as it could be. I've been through this before. I'm still alive. I have the capacity to keep going, and I will. He's just not that into me. He met someone, and wants to explore what it's about. While his initial statement on Thursday was not as forthcoming as it should have been, it was an attempt (albeit halfhearted and pathetic) at honesty. It took a phone call with Dionne to get the true story. It took a follow up call with the boy to hear him say it himself. He's a tricky little man. He didn't volunteer any information. But, I knew the right questions to ask, and got the information I needed from him. I'm not as mad at him as I am at the situation. The words were hard to hear. But, I'm glad they were said.

He's selfish. Plain and simple. He wanted to reap the benefits of our "thing" and pursue other possibilities at the same time. He thought his "quick chat" on Thursday was the out that he needed, telling himself "at least I was honest with her," when in reality, it was just the tip of the iceberg. He didn't mention that she had been to his hometown in recent weeks to see him. He didn't mention that she lived in New York. He didn't mention he'd be seeing her in DC that weekend. And, when we spoke yesterday, he had NO intentions of telling me how serious their courting actually was. Nope. He was going to keep me in the dark. Until when? ::sighs::

Fool me twice, shame on me.

I'm keeping it together, though. I'm upset, don't get me wrong, but I'm not devastated. I'm not irate. I'm just really, really disappointed. I know this is for the best. I know that I can do better. I know that I WILL do better. I deserve it. I really do. I just wish it hadn't come to this so soon... you know? I was enjoying it. But, it is when we are most uncomfortable that we achieve the most growth. And, boy, this young man is teaching me life lessons and growing me up SO fast. It's hard staying strong. It's hard staying mature. I'd really like to find his social security number and ufck up his credit. I'd like to throw something. I'd like to punch somebody in the face.

In lieu of those fancy ideas, I'm just going to sit here at my work computer, pretending to plow through this ever-mounting pile of work on my desk... and smile. I'll smile, and be polite to others in the hall, and laugh loudly at cubeside jokes, and gchat with my clutch friends, and update my status frequently to show that I'm cool. The constant updates might be a little OD, but it's okay. I deserve at least one recuperation day.

Deep breaths.

Deep breaths.

This is just a bump in the road. I've asked God for "signs I can see" so that I'm clear I'm moving in the right direction. (Sometimes, when I just ask God for "a sign" I manage to overlook it). And, ta-da! God comes through in the clutch too! During drinks last night with Anisa, a guy friend of mine walked in (randomly) and we caught up, which was great. Exchanged numbers and everything. He will surely be a fun friend for the summer. This morning, while driving to work, another guy friend sent me a text to say he saw me driving and just wanted to say "hi". We're going to see Bilal this Saturday in concert, so his text was timely and definitely lifted my spirits. Finally, I reached back out to Lewis (remember dude who lives in NY?) and he'll be visiting me in the weeks to come. :-)

I'm smiling. I'm moving forward. And, I will be okay.







And speaking of the clutch... Go Boston.