Unexpected Expenses

I'm sorry I've neglected The Single Aesthetic for so long! Life has truly blessed me over the past 18 months. I got so caught up in the whirlwind of running, applying to school, getting accepted, celebrating and TRAVELING that I never stopped to write it all down. I took plenty of pictures. I tweeted up a storm. But, I didn't blog about it. I'm sure I'll one day regret that. I'll try to do as much back-logging as I can over the summer... but that's not why I'm here. I'm here today because I'm pissed. Royally. Here's a post to detail said pissed-ness.

Dear Universe,

I feel like I can't win for losing sometimes. Not that volunteering, or serving the community, or vacationing with best friends is "losing" per se. But, the financial toll is really taxing! Let me back up. In the past year and a half, I've run two half marathons with Team in Training (Go Team!), a full marathon with BFF Cece, and I'm now a Team in Training mentor for a third half marathon--Rock N Roll San Diego. Clearly I have an addictive personality. Anyway, with each Team in Training event, runners are asked to fundraise for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society (LLS). Once you're a mentor, however, you can choose whether or not you want to fundraise. After all, you're going to be responsible for mentoring new runners, encouraging them to fundraise and helping them during training by providing water/Gatorade in alternating shifts. Your contribution is less tangible as a mentor, but still equally as important. So, after raising over $10,000 for the cause in 2010, Cece and I decided to sit this one out. We'd raise the minimum $250 and pay our own way to San Diego. Cool.

Well, my little brain got to thinking. Since they're going to bill us for our hotel stay at San Diego anyway, I wonder if we can't just fundraise the cost of the room? I asked. Lucky me, the San Diego TEAM coordinator told me I could fundraise $250 plus the cost of the room and be totally covered! Awesome!

Too bad she's a liar.

Today, she calls me asking for $475. What in the hell? After two phone calls and an email exchange she essentially tells me she misspoke and, while she could deduce my bill by $100 since she made the mistake, I still owed LLS $375. Shut the front door. Who do I look like? I do not have that kind of money just laying around. Gah!

On top of that, Anisa and Corinne and I are planning our GET RITE (remember that??) 2011 Summer Fun Extravaganza Trip to Playa del Carmen in July. We've already booked an all-inclusive hotel stay and simply need to finalize our flights. Well, since I've been whizzing around the country for the past year-and-a-half (pats self on back) I've racked up quite a few frequent flyer mile-point thingies. I have enough points to get me anywhere Airtran flies. It was in this mindset that I sat my happy ass down at work this morning and, before even opening Outlook to begin real work for the day, started to book my flight to Mexico. Welp. All the "A Plus Rewards" seats have been redeemed for the days I'm flying. Looks like I got played--again--and will be shelling out a handsome $350 to vacay with two of my closest friends. I'm not complaining, really, because you can't put a price tag on quality time with friends, you know? But damnit if I'm trying to charge $700 in one day!

My goal was to go to graduate school free of credit card debt. If I incurred debt from student loans, so be it. But I wanted to leave that grey cloud of irresponsibility behind me. To me, credit card debt symbolizes the happy-go-lucky recklessness of my post-undergrad years. 2006 through 2011 were thrilling, emotional, wild years. I'm glad I had them. I'm happy to have paid for them... with interest. Those were necessary life experience years, you know?

But I'm going to GRAD SCHOOL. A really good one, too. And, I'm not saying that I want to "close that chapter" in my life, really. Except I kinda do. I don't want to continue to pay this freaking credit card bill while I don't even have an income! I don't want to continue to pay for trips, or car emergencies, or silly mistakes I made two and three years ago. I want a new, fresh life experience. I want endless possibilities. I don't want a monthly statement. I don't want a minimum payment requirement. I don't want a freaking BALANCE!!

Unexpected expenses. That's life, right? As soon as you're doing well and making progress, life hits you with a swift undercut (or two) and knocks you back down. Wellllll Universe, you know what? You can have your silly little $700. Yes, on my credit card. Damnit. But guess what? I'm STILL going to grad school. And I'm going to have a purposeful BLAST in San Diego with my mentees who raised thousands of dollars to combat blood cancers (God bless each and every one of them). I'm still going to Mexico with two ladies who know me oh so well... and we're going to gossip and cry and laugh and drink and party and celebrate life eeeeven if it costs me an unexpected $350. It's all worth it. It's just money. And one day... although later than I'd hoped... I will pay it back. With interest.

So there!

Sincerely,
Me

Notes to God, II

Dear God,

Thank you so much. Thank you for allowing me to find the positive – the single aesthetic – in every situation I have encountered over the past few months. Thank you for a trying summer and for providing shoulders to lean on. Thank you for opening my eyes to the hard realities of life and the world. Thank you for blessing me in the midst of it; for picking me up when I felt completely beaten and defeated. Thank you for providing listening ears and non-judgmental hearts. Thanks for letting me know that I’m not alone.

I’m taking my final in Microeconomics today, and Lord you know I am not prepared. I have yet to even finish reading a few of the chapters on a final exam that is only hours away. But I thank you for reminding me that this is not the end of the world. I am not in high school depending on a college scholarship. I am not in college trying to hold on to a scholarship. I am a post-baccalaureate student who, per the recommendation of her dream school’s recruiter, decided to show initiative and enroll in a business course. I am a young woman who faced a number of changes and challenges over the course of the summer, and thus could not focus wholeheartedly on the content of the class. I am an adult who sought to learn something about economics as opposed to fulfilling a college prerequisite. And, being the perfectionist that I am, I would have loved to have earned an “A”. But, I was tested multiple times this summer outside of the classroom. So, if I do poorly on the class final, I’ll be okay with that. Because You, Lord, allowed me to pass my personal summer test...

Perhaps that’s the reason I’m unable to focus enough to study. I feel as though I have already crossed the finish line. I feel like I have overcome the last hurdle… at least for a little while. Work has finally simmered down. I’m making peace with the loss of my friend. I’m building a harmonious and rock-steady relationship with my mother. I’m re-evaluating what I want to do with my life, and coming to some fascinating and exciting conclusions. I’m unlocking so much potential. Thank you, God, for shining down your wisdom through the storm that had enveloped me for so long.

I cannot wait to begin the rest of my life! Today is a new day. And, though it is physically raining outside, I feel brighter internally. I met with someone yesterday who really brought new perspective to everything that has been troubling me. Her name is Linda. She listened to me go on and on about my problems… never judging, never impatient. She brought me to realizations that I may not have reached otherwise. God, thank you for placing her in my life, and giving me the courage to fully open up so that I may resolve whatever else is plaguing me.

I came in the morning and finally organized my cube. It’s now full of pictures, knick-knacks, plants and new Ikea furniture. It feels warm and bright. It feels like home. It no longer feels like a stressful place for day-dwelling… but more like a comfortable spot where I happen to work. What a difference perspective makes. Thank you.

Thank you also for dear friends like Anisa and Cece who have allowed me to figure things out by talking, not talking, crying, listening, laughing and the like. And, if they ever grew tired of hearing me vent, thank you for having them listen to me anyway. Good friends are like rocks. They will carry some burdens with you, even when they don’t have to. They’re immobile when it comes to their friends, always staying down for the cause. They’re easy to lean on, and yet never too heavy to pick up. Thank you for blessing me with the RIGHT people in my life.

God, please give me the tenacity and drive to study for this final. I know I have “work” to do, but you have already removed two meetings from my afternoon schedule, proving that I could really learn this material (cramming it in, no doubt) if I really wanted to. ::sighs:: Fine. Fine. Fine. I’ll duck out into an empty cube with this dense textbook and attempt to learn the last few chapters of the text.

You have blessed me so, so much. I couldn’t tell it all, even if I tried. Thank you.


Amen.

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.

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.

Love, Dionne

[Sent at 3:05 am, May 21, 2009]

Michele,

So let me tell you how life can sneak up on you. So I got home and my classmate asked me how my workout was. I was like it was cool. I have been telling her to sign up for a YMCA membership . She mentioned "Mr. Man" because he said it was a nice gym as well. I was like I saw him at the gym today. She was like you know he bought a house right. And that really like stung because a year ago we were looking at houses and apartments. And like it was annoying to think about it. And my feelings were totally hurt. I just had to grab my ipod and take a long hot shower. It hurt. It really did, and I was feeling so cocky earlier. But what a difference a year makes. We aren’t even speaking and last year we were looking for houses together. Sheez, kinda tugs at my heart strings. So I had to take my own advice and just pray. I feel better. But I say all of this to say. It doesn’t just disappear. When you really invest in a relationship… when you compromise or put another person’s feelings above your own because you care…. When you forgive the unforgivable because you want to believe the unforgivable was the exception and not the norm.. when you let yourself love someone…. There will always be feelings.

DO I look back and see mistakes with Mr. Man.. yes. Feel like I should have left sooner… definitely… Do I have regrets.. NO. I feel like I learned from [previous men I've dated] and everyone else. And I don’t look at it as being a doormat. I feel like I am on a journey to become a wife, mother, and Christian example… Mr. Man was not always the man I wanted him to be. He did things that disappointed me and hurt me. For some of my friends, they may think I let him walk all over me to a certain degree. But I feel like I wasn’t going to change the woman I was trying to become because he wasn’t the man I deserved. In the past I have been very selfish in relationships and always ready to call it quits. With Mr. Man I worked, I really did. I most certainly wasn’t perfect but I tried. And I needed to go through that to learn how to be a better woman for the man I deserve (whenever he comes).

And my classmate said to me: “Dionne, I think Mr. Man is a good man and I know you are a good woman. And I know you don’t believe me right now but sometimes it is all a matter of timing. And you don’t want him now but if God wants you to be with him then you will be.” I don’t say this to say you will end up with "the boy" or I will end up with Mr. Man. She just wanted to me to understand timing is so important and God has divine timing.

And finally, Your friends will always be here for. You just let me know what you need and I will do it. I know the other bridesmaids feel the same way. This is rough. Lean on your friends. We are waiting to be there for you, because you have been there for us. Don’t ever feel like you can’t share because we all LOVE you. Well, have a good day sweetie.

Love,
Dionne

Loyalty. Maturity.

I try really hard. Too hard, sometimes. I think.

My weekend was really peaceful, which was great. I did what I said I'd do (for the most part) and separated myself from my best friends. Friday night I went out with a new group of friends, and partied hard. After confiding in one of my platonic male friends about "peaks and valleys" in my life at the moment, he took it upon himself to buy liquor and open his apartment for a pre-game all in my honor. "That's what friends do," he said. Aw.

Saturday was jam-packed. Sorority meeting at 10. Take Ruby to the art museum at 12. Have her back to her mom by 3. Nap until 6. Babysit until 11. Finish gifts for my newest neo for the rest of the night!

Sunday was amazing. Great weather. Great friends. I woke up and went to church, had brunch with a group of Teach for America friends at West Egg, and killed time until a 4:00 movie with yet ANOTHER platonic male friend. Afterwards he treated me to ice cream, and we headed back to his place to watch the playoffs. Melanie stopped by and, of course, spent the entire evening yammering about needing a new job... but I let the Cabernet sink in and successfully ignored her comments regarding work. For the most part, it was quite pleasant. At times, though, it was a bit tedious.

And, in hindsight, it makes me wonder how upset I can really be with the boy - seeing as how I clearly have growing number of "just friends" in my life too. It should go without saying that my curiosity has peaked on more than one occasion, but I've always managed to silence those fleeting thoughts out of loyalty to him.

Loyalty. Hm.

The concept of loyalty (which I believe, in my situation at least, stems from a prevailing influence of maturity) seems to be rearing it's ugly little head in every mildly confusing life scenario I encounter. I'm not dating other men because I want to remain loyal to the boy. Even if I WANTED to explore curiosity with one young man in particular, I wouldn't be able to out of loyalty to a girlfriend of mine... Though they dated years and years ago, crossing that line is taboo and forsaken. I might as well kill myself if I think toying with their history won't end badly.

Loyalty naturally plays a huge role in my ever-complicated friendships as well. I bend over backwards for my best friends out of loyalty to them, though many are so blinded by their own problems that they fail to extend the same courtesy to me.

And perhaps, in all actuality, the bigger issue really is maturity. In a late-night convo with my Mommy yesterday, we discussed the discord in many of my current relationships. I'm emotionally exhausted. The maintenance of these friendships is taking a toll, and leaving me to foot the bill. But, are the problems rooted in personality differences, or just plain maturity? Do I perceive the world differently, and handle stress in a certain manner, because I'm a little wiser than my peers? Does being the oldest child play a role? Do the stars and astrology play a role? Has my upbringing and exposure to various cities, towns and countries have anything to do with it?


Well, of course it does. As an oldest child, I was called upon to help raise Paris and MB. As a Pisces, I'm naturally more sensitive and in-tune with people and things around me. Pisces are said to possess a "natural understanding of things around them" which I thoroughly believe in and agree with. And, sheer exposure to new places and cultures undoubtedly molds individuals for the better - teaching tolerance and the ability to adapt. Truth be told, I think I've always been a bit more mature than my peers. It seems, however, to more of an issue now that I am older.

Indeed, the culmination of all of these factors has created the person I am today. It's a shame that, for all the beauty to be found in this revelation, that said maturity proves to be a help and hindrance simultaneously. I cannot really relate to your extensive indecisiveness, my friend. For a moment - yes; for weeks on end - no. I cannot understand your compulsive need to be the center of attention. If we're performing "Les Sylphides" for an audience - yes; if we're drinking and watching basketball - no. I don't understand your obsessions with shopping or dining out. And, I don't understand why you'd even think to put our friendship in jeopardy. Not now. Not ever.

Loyalty and maturity: lofty to strive for... harder to maintain.

I found myself getting a little jumpy this morning, too. Though I had managed to set my mind at ease over the weekend, I was back to my old self at 9 am. I was busy worrying, contemplating, analyzing, rationalizing, sighing, stressing, and facebook stalking. This huge frenzy - and for what? I can not control him. I cannot control any of the bridesmaids either. All I can do is control how I am affected by them. Taking a step back proved effective for a weekend, but how was I going to sustain that peace of mind? It's impossible, really, because I need to address each of them on an individual basis. But I don't want to... just yet. Well. I do want to address the boy. And I have a laundry list of things to say, questions to ask... overall pleas for understanding. And what if the end result is disappointing? What then? Am I making too big a deal of this? He just said "he met someone" and I'm over here planning their honeymoon. I need to chill.

Ugh. The internal back-and-forth could go on forever. It's time for me to stop sacrificing my happiness for others. It's time to start putting me first. I've been too loyal to others for far too long. Time to be loyal to me.

Time to be loyal to me. It might not sound like a "mature" sentiment... but I assure you that it is.

Peaks and Valleys

I’m liable to punch somebody in the face.

If I have learned anything from my mother in the past few weeks, it’s this: do not let people stress you out. Initially, I interpreted this epiphany to mean “do not let co-workers, employers, colleagues stress you out.” Lately, though, I’ve had to amend my interpretation to include friends. In all honesty, I’m finding my friends, collectively, to be some of the neediest, most selfish, least sensitive people I know. Oh yes, they are sensitive to their own needs, but they rarely extend the same genuine sensitivity to the people around them. Each of the bridesmaids has managed to lay at least one of their burdens on my shoulders. One invited herself to my home for a weekend, though I would have much preferred to spend two days alone. Though I enjoy her spirit and humor on most occasions, there are some instances when I just want to be alone. Last weekend was one of those times. When she returned home, she got into a car accident and I was compelled to follow up and ensure that she was physically and mentally well. In days following, she placed me on a party-planning committee for her sister’s line-sister. Why am I helping to plan a party for a person I don’t even know? And why do you assume that I don’t already have enough to do? That’s insensitive. Though I love her dearly, this is the same person who once chastised me for not following up with her when her grandfather’s health was failing. At the time, she would sit and talk with me for hours on end about the man in her life and how he wouldn’t take out the trash. In my mind, I was lead to believe this was the priority in her life. It was only weeks later, when she sent a lengthy e-mail to me about her grandfather did I learn that she was livid that I hadn’t once asked about his health. To me, it seemed as though she would have brought this up at least ONCE in our conversations about garbage duty, if it were actually important. Don’t get me wrong, the health of one’s family is always a priority. But how do I know to inquire when you make no reference to the situation. Ask me how many times she has followed up with me about the health of my mother? Exactly. Insensitive.

Another, God bless her, is moving here for a summer internship with a local law firm. I’m proud of her, and want to be supportive, especially since both of her parents have been in and out of the hospital lately. I’ve taken time out of my day to help research and even visit condos and apartments where she could potentially sublease for the summer months. I’ve calculated the distances from said apartments to her future job to ensure she’s close enough that her commute is not a burden. These are not things that I had to do. But, I did them because I love her and I try really hard to be a good friend. I’m not even angry with her about the situation, because I volunteered myself for it. But it is yet another instance where I’ve extended myself, and bent over backwards for a friend that might not necessarily have done the same for me were she in my position.

A third bridesmaid has been somewhat of an emotional mess lately. I’ve tried as hard as I could to be supportive with phone calls, text messages, and even a casual drive by her apartment just to check on her. Unfortunately, she’s the type to cut the world off when she’s deeply emotional, leaving me to question if she’s truly okay. She picks and chooses when to answer the phone, or even be responsive for that matter. So, when I finally do get a positive response, I feel compelled to oblige her every whim. She wants to come over to chat? Sure! She may need to talk and get some things out. She wants to drink tonight? Okay, let me reorganize my schedule to accommodate her. She’s feeling sad? Let me put down what I’m doing for a sec to console her. But wait, on instances when I need to talk, or want to drink, or want to just sit quietly with a friend – she’s busy. She has plans with her on-again-off-again guy friend. She’s with a co-worker. She’s asleep. Well, what am I to do then? Do I continue to try AS HARD AS I CAN or do I start to let go? It seems as though everyone else is putting themselves first. When will I learn to do that for me?

The final bridesmaid hates her job. Join the club honey, we all do. She hates it so much so, that every conversation she participates in eventually winds up focused on her and how she can change career paths. I helped her review her resume at a happy hour. A HAPPY HOUR. You know, where everyone else is eating, drinking and being merry? Yeah, one of those. That’s how serious it is… to her. And, because it’s serious to her, it MUST be serious to everyone else. After a 20-minute pep talk, she’s usually able to move the conversation along to what’s going on in everyone else’s life, with an occasional mention of her disdain for her job here and there. But the bottom line is that she cannot remove herself far enough from her thoughts about work to enjoy the joys of life that are taking place around her. That’s selfish. I realize that we are all dealing with stress, and handling it differently – but does everyone else realize this same truth? YOU are not the only person going through something. You’re not the only person in a valley. You’re not the only person who is stressed. Allow yourself to listen to others for a change, without consistently redirecting every conversation to a problem that you are having. At the very least, say you’ll give it a try.

Finally, there’s the boy. I had confided in him that I was feeling this way about my friends, and he really took this to heart. He called me last night to reiterate that he loved me, and that he valued our friendship, and that he couldn’t bear to think about us ever “not speaking” or “taking a year off” as we have done in the past. He told me I was “quietly becoming the best friend he had.” He followed that sentiment by telling me he had met someone. He met someone. Nothing has happened between the two of them, and he’s not even sure anything ever will. But, he was intrigued by this girl, and wanted to be upfront and honest with me about it. I could appreciate that. It showed growth from the last time we had been in this situation. And yet, this is just one more burden to me. He is another person in my life who is reaping all the benefits of our friendship, and I’m the one crying myself to sleep at night for having fallen in love again. It’s not his fault. I was the one being patient, and accepting that he didn’t want a girlfriend, and helping him with career moves, and listening to him vent, and trying to cheer him up, and daydreaming about him all day, and talking with him late at night … and for what? I tricked myself into believing that we were building something. I tricked myself into believing that if I could just wait it out… if I could just hold on… that I could finally get what I wanted from him, which was a relationship. But that’s just it! I can’t seem to hold onto him! I’ve never been able to do that. Maybe I never will.

Meanwhile, while I was doing all of this so-called “building”, he too was establishing a strong and stable friendship with me. A friendship that he truly valued and could not see himself without. One that had “perks” that was cool, and enjoyable, and fun, and passionate, and deep. And yet, in all reality, who knew when we would ever live in the same city again? He accepted that I might meet someone else, and did not shy away from the opportunity to do the same. He claims his honesty about “meeting someone” derived from him not wanting to “fuck me over.” He didn’t want to ruin what we have. But, he couldn’t deny that there was someone else who had caught his eye. The end result: he has a best friend whom he loves and doesn’t want to lose… and I have yet another broken heart.

Everyone is so wrapped up in their own problems, and so complacent with the fact that they have my shoulder to lean on, that they’ve neglected to actually be my friend. I need a shoulder too. And I’m pissed about it. I’m livid, really. Perhaps it’s my own fault for not speaking up sooner… but what the fuck? I can’t get a word in edgewise when everyone is whining, complaining, and sobbing about their lives. I can’t get a word in edgewise when people don’t pick up the phone either. So, I’m over it. I’m taking time off from the people I love the most. With tears in my eyes, and a truly heavy heart, I am wiping my hands clean of every burdensome situation that is transpiring with every loved one in my life.

Fuck you.
Goodnight.

Is Work Worth It?

My mom had a biopsy last week.

It worried me. She had been rushed to the emergency room a few weeks prior for stomach and back aches. It had gotten to the point where she just couldn't handle the pain. So, one Sunday morning, in lieu of heading to church, she and my father headed to the ER at 8 am. They stayed there for twelve hours. They sat in the waiting room, sat there for tests, more waiting, and eventually she was sent back home. It was two days after I turned 25, actually. Happy Birthday to me.

Today she learned she had an extremely mild version of lymphoma. Cancer. My mom could potentially have cancer. Both of Corinne's parents have been battling with the disease, her mother first, and her father now. I always knew that she was a strong young lady, but now I have completely new perspective. With even the MENTION of my mother potentially having cancer, I'm in tears.

"Mom," I pry. "Have you gotten a second opinion?"
"No, not yet," she says. "I just got the results today, so I need to find out about medicine or treatment."
"So, you went to the doctor's office, he told you that you had this, but you didn't discuss treatment?" I ask, bewildered.
"No," she says, "I just talked to the surgeon on the phone."
"Okay, so what's next. When is your follow up appointment? When do you get medicine? When do you start treating this?" I ask, belting out questions as soon as they occur to me.
"Well, I called today to move my appointment up," she says wearily.
"Alright, and then..." I begin again.
"But, it's really not that serious. It's not cancer, it's just a really mild form of... well... it's just an inflammation of the lymph nodes. But Imma call you back. I want to see the end of this movie," she says, calmly.
"Alright, mom. I love you," I sigh. We hang up.

Cancer.

In the midst of the overall conversation, we discuss how stressful the past few days for me have been at work. In the midst of my manager's marriage-planning, she had managed to dump all of her work on me. During her two-week honeymoon, I would be performing a nice portion of her manager duties on my coordinator salary. Great.

"DON'T LET THEM RUN YOU RAGGED," my mom exclaimed. "You know, you get caught up in trying to do everything right, and do it all at once, and you're just tired and stressed all the time. I've been doing that for the past 20-plus years. I've been stressed, and having stomach aches, and I've been tired. And now, look what I have to show for it," she sighed.

"I'm just not built that way," I say. "I don't know how to not try," I realize.

"People with no stress live a lot longer," she chuckled. "So, you prioritize your work, and you just do what you can do. When you leave, they'll probably hire someone else and pay them more to do less. So, don't stress. Do your best, and don't worry about it. Do NOT let them run you ragged."

Preach, Mom. Preach. Before we hung up, she mentioned that she was ready to retire. Why not? Two kids out of school, and one kid with a few years left. "Good for her," I thought.

Work is not worth my health, or my mom's for that matter. I'm going to have to keep that top of mind from now on...

Kanye said "giving up is way harder than trying" with which I agree... But work is just not worth it.

Oh, the Places You'll Go

So I mentioned that March was a busy month. Coupled with the ongoing grind of working 9+ hours each day, I was overdue for some R&R and what better excuse than celebrating 25? Though I had taken my actual bday off, I decided it was necessary to take off every other Friday in the month of March as well. O.D. The next weekend, I was jetsetting to Chicago to see my friend Matthew in yet another play. This man is going places. And, I’m not just saying that because he was my best bud in high school, and continues to make me laugh to this day. I’m saying it because he’s a truly talented artist who will one day grace the stage of Saturday Night Live and introduce the world to an insightful but playful humor that I’ve known since the 7th grade.

“Maybe, Baby, It’s You,” was a poignant look at a series of love stories. This montage of vignettes captured a variety of scenarios ranging from awkward high school crushes, to over-the-top wedding ceremonies. One of my favorite stories involved a seasoned couple watching their grandson play baseball at a local park. Though they were separated, they still managed to find that the same things that made them fight inevitably made them smile. Love is so powerful. Catch some of the reviews here: http://www.cheekychicago.com/maybe-baby-its-you/ and http://www.steadstylechicago.com/maybebaby.htm. It didn’t hurt that the cozy venue allowed us to purchase and sip beer as we enjoyed the show. Matthew’s assembly of high school and college friends (me included) hooted and hollered throughout the play. I’m sure that contributed to at least one positive review, as a local magazine writer was there for opening night just as we were. The energy in the Shakespearian theater was magnetic – full of lighthearted but thoughtful skits that truly captivated each member of the audience.

In the days that followed, we celebrated St. Patrick’s Day by watching the city dye the river green, and then drank ourselves into a frenzy. We consumed lots of college basketball as well, as each conference was in the midst of their respective tournaments. I met up with two of my dad’s sisters (one of whom I had not seen since I was 10) for dinner and lots of catching up. All the excitement of Friday and Saturday had drained me to the point that I collapsed on one aunt’s hotel bed, not to awake until the next morning. Sunday was restful. I retreated back to Matthew’s place to pack up my things, and give him one last hug. “We have to do this again soon!” I beamed. I had not had that much fun in a while.

The next weekend, it was time for a tan. To South Beach went! Lucy, Anisa, one of Anisa’s co-workers and I made our way to one of the most exotic and exhilarating cities in the country for four nights of debauchery… or so we had hoped. Anisa’s godfather picked us up from the airport, and sped us home to his and his wife’s picturesque mansion for a quick change and a few shots. Yes – Anisa’s godparents watch us drink their alcohol, and then hand us their car keys to do what we will for the rest of the night. No, for real… like, they are just that cool.

Thursday night kicked off nicely enough. We ended up at some random bar on the strip, and danced the night away on stage with the DJ. It was magical. While I halfway noticed the hundreds of eyes watching me pulsate and grind to every song, I was more in love with the three other young ladies on stage with me – flipping their hair, snapping pictures, and winding their hips just like me. So. Fun.

Friday was amazing. Lots of sun, ice cold ocean waves, and handfuls of college spring breakers to liven the beach. The night began with lots of potential. We pre-gamed in the kitchen, trying to determine which spot would be the most fun for the evening. We ended up at a cool enough place… early enough to hear the music DJs typically play before the crowd gets live. We were all a little bored by it, but had no other real alternatives… We left anyway. That decision ended up being a mistake. After about 30 minutes of walking around, the girls were antsy and ready to go home. Everyone except Anisa, that is.

It was kind of all downhill from there. I suppose everyone's expectations of the trip were different, thus making plans (and actually executing them) was difficult. I was perfectly content tanning all day, drinking all night, and chilling all around. I think Anisa, though, wanted to go hard and PARTY the entire time. For some reason, estrogen has a hard time compromising… especially when four female minds are at odds. To that end, Saturday was a blur. Though we had hustled our way into one of the hottest night clubs in the city, and danced our asses off for a number of hours, there was still more fun to be had. Some of us were down to keep going; others of us were just ready to go home. Tension began to build, and came to a head that night. In short, I learned a lot of things about my dear friend – some of which I’m still trying to digest.

Traveling, sometimes, is about more than reaching a new geographic location. It becomes a catalyst for voyages we take within our actual friendships. I went to Chicago to watch Matthew – and ended up actually seeing him. I saw a handsome, accomplished, driven young man, with whom I’ve shared many memories and will undoubtedly create many more. I traveled to South Beach to kick it with my girls – and wound up wading though the depths of Anisa’s troubled heart. It’s insane the façade a girl can keep up. I was astonished to learn so much about one of my BEST FRIENDS in the passenger seat of a car in the wee hours of the morning. But, I guess that’s what it’s all about. Sharing experiences. Gaining insight. Building upon solid foundations. Learning. Laughing. Growing.

The Single Aesthetic champions a person’s ability to realize just that.

The Big Day

It’s been a busy month. Turning 25 made me step up my “grown and sexy” game, which has been very time consuming to be quite honest. In any case, here are the Cliffs Notes. Details are forthcoming.

Pre-Birthday Preparation – Stumbled upon a ridiculous department store sale with BCBG dresses selling at dirt cheap prices. Birthday dress, check! Later that month, I took a trip to the David Yurman store with Anisa (finally)! After much deliberating, I finally settled on the anchor piece for my collection - classic cable-knit 7mm bracelet with a gold dome. Timeless.

The Big Day!! – Took the day off. Woke up to drop Jada off for a quick oil change, and headed to the mall for a facial. Next stop, hairdresser. Wave bye-bye to the tresses! I cut those locks OFF… and I must admit, the look is growing on me. After that, I headed to the liquor store to prepare for a little pre-game at my place. The entire time, I’m receiving hourly phone calls, text messages and gchat messages from the boy on my blackberry. Though he couldn’t be in my city for the weekend, he was making the day special. I appreciated that. With tequila and triple sec in tow, I headed to a nail parlor to meet Anisa and Cece for pedicures. Screams, screams and more screams. Oh my gooooosh! It’s so short! Do you love it?! I’m smiling. What a difference a haircut makes! I like the new ‘do, but I don’t love it. The bangs are too short, and I guess I should have given my hairdresser more direction before she chopped it all off. But, hey, it’s only hair and it will grow back. I’m 25!!! A new look for a new quarter in my life will be amazing. The pre-game flies by as Dionne arrives alongside other friends. The night blurs into morning, and I wake up with hilarious pictures in my Nikon. Even more hilarious is the fact that I wake up on my couch, with friends asleep on my floor, and in my bed. What a night. Dionne makes us brunch with groceries purchased from her food stamps (don’t ask). We eat, listen to music, watch movies and basically waste the day recounting drunken stories from the night before. How fun.

The following Tuesday – Mommy and Auntie are in town for a play. It’s nice to have them in town. Of course, Mom had MUCH to say about the new apartment and how I should be organizing and decorating my new space. I had already been stressed that the place wasn’t fully unpacked (nor fully cleaned from my bday festivities) but whatever. She’s seen me at my worst… I’m sure a messy apartment was nothing in comparison. Wednesday night we attended a play entitled “Miss Evers’ Boys” which took an in-depth look at the Tuskegee Experiments (read: exploitations) of African American men affected by Syphilis. Any story that can make you laugh, cry and deeply think about the human condition in one sitting is truly a masterpiece. Indeed, Kenny Leon’s production of this story did just that. Jasmine Guy’s performance as Miss Evers was enlightening and tragic at the same time. She captivated her audience, transitioning between scenes of her testimony as an old woman and scenes from her younger days as a nurse with the Tuskegee men. The story itself, while heartbreaking, was thoughtfully and carefully depicted in the play. Bravo.

That same night, during the middle of the production, I received a text from the boy. For the first time since college, without solicitation or warning, he told me he loved me. He told me he loved me. I sat, watching the play, completely unfocused, and let the words marinate. I re-read the text over and over again in my head. Those weren’t the words he used verbatim… but the “L” word was definitely in play, in a way that I had never heard (or read) from him. I was on Cloud 9. Happy Birthday to me.

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.

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!

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!!

Get Right 2008

"I'm about to sign you up...
And we can get right before the night is up!
We can get riiight; Riiiight...
We can get right!"

- Jennifer Lopez

Summertime is upon us. The 4th of July is the landmark holiday that ushers in summertime BBQs, pool parties, "summer Fridays", four-day weekends and enough alcohol to last a lifetime. The summer before my senior year in college was blissful. I had accomplished everything on my college agenda but obtain a degree. Join a dance group? Check. Honors Fraternity? Check. BGLO Sorority? Check. Meet a boy? Check! To top it off, I was en route to Cannes, France for a summer study abroad program. I was on track to graduate with honors, and ahead of schedule, no less. I was on top of the world.

However, one of my best friends (I have four, and they're known as "the bridesmaids") was not. I'll call her "Anisa". She was dealing with a really emotional break-up, and a roller coaster of a college experience. Her school, though phenomenal in reputation, was a secluded liberal arts school in the northeast. Contrary to her outgoing, fun-loving, exciting personality; her school was pretty quiet, cold, and intense with intellectual stimulation dripping from every campus corner. She loved it there, but this sentiment was an acquired taste... and her taste buds had almost gone numb.

One afternoon, while basking in the sun at a friend's pool, we dove into the sensitive topic of her break-up. We waded through the ups and downs of her on-again-off-again relationship. We splashed through ideas for improving her college experience... and then the tide turned. We plunged into stories about my school year and I couldn't help but celebrate the wonderful (through trying) time I'd had. Yes, I had pledged my life away, but I'd made some of my best friends in the process(es). I showered her with stories of sleepless nights, twenty-page "assignments", house parties, "searching" for answers, finally finding them (praise God), probate shows, and ending the year with a little fling...

"Goal," she had said to herself. Anisa had made a mental pledge to have the best summer possible. She was going to embrace all of the difficulties she currently faced, and transform them into an amazing, fulfilling, party-filled vacation.

From there, "Get Right" was born. The song by Jennifer Lopez was the most popular tune out that summer, and it was the perfect anthem for young women everywhere. The song applied to every facet of life, and could be enjoyed in the midst of any activity. Running on the treadmill? "Get Right" was motivation to run for ten more minutes and attain some tight abs and Amerie legs (a la "One Thing" music video). Chillin by the pool? "Get Right" complimented your sexy bikini and enhanced your swag. At the club? "Get Right" stayed in rotation. Once you heard those infamous horns, all you needed was for your homegirl to hold your bag. Dude behind you didn't know he was about to "Get Right" too...

Get Right was, and is (much like the Single Aesthetic), about living your best life now. It's about going to the gym religiously and building a better body. It's about traveling to vast corners of the country to see friends, loved ones, and foundational members of your emotional support system. It's about drinking enough alcohol to drown a small child (cause it be's like that sometimes). It's about dancing on tabletops and hanging onto your BFFs for dear life. It's about gambling at Canadian casinos; tanning until you don't recognize yourself; praying and meditating; reading new books and discovering new things; visiting any and every happy hour within a 10 mile radius; and maxing out your credit card on expensive trips and unnecessary clothes if it means you'll cry fewer tears that night. Never mind the debt you'll incur or the hangover you'll endure. You're young, and can pay Citibank back later. Plus, your internship coordinator and/or part-time job supervisor won't likely notice that you're ten minutes late and consuming coffee like it's water. Whether you're on top of the world or under the bridge, Get Right is about getting back on track...with urgency... in the company of loving friends.

I still remember the weeks leading up to my trip to France. We partied hard in the Bull City. We tanned, we talked, and we PARTIED. Since then, every summer has been about Getting Right. We get back in the gym, back on the scene, and travel all over the country. There have been some summers where I have leaned more heavily on the Get Right mantra than Anisa, and vice versa. The summer after I graduated, I was in dire need of Getting Right. The "fling" had embedded himself into my senior year. On graduation eve, mere hours before placing the cap and gown on my head and shoulders, the boy had quietly ruined my life...

And without missing a beat, Anisa was there by my side. She helped me pull pieces of my fragmented self back together. She listened. She consoled. She ran with me... took shots with me... and got me to Miami where we had an unforgettable time!! Just typing this gets me all nostalgic. Over the course of the summer, I regained composure, learned some valuable life lessons, made a number of mistakes, and smiled as often as possible. It's amazing how much you can enjoy life after someone does something super-shitty to you. But I digress. She's really an amazing girl, and I'm blessed to have her in my life.

This summer... I think we're both chillin. She has a somewhat serious boy in her life. I'm entertaining "Mr. Right Now" as he makes himself available. But, as I pack my bag for Chicago and The Taste, I can't help but smile. I have just returned from the gym... and I'm feeling good. It's summertime! TIME TO GET RIGHT!

The Character Canvas

When the character of a man is not clear to you, look at his friends.
- Japanese Proverb


The Single Aesthetic is firmly founded upon self-awareness and knowing that the company you keep directly reflects your own character. I value my friends and wouldn’t trade them for the world. I’ve learned that each friend contributes something valuable, though different, to my life. One might say they contribute varying strokes or colors to my life’s character canvas. They help paint a picture of who I am, and the person I strive to be.

I have one friend who’s outspoken, ambitious and a riot to be around. Let’s call her “Dionne” for anonymity’s sake. She is, by far, one of the funniest human beings on earth. I’m pretty sure that the “censorship” button God gave to the rest of us was omitted when He created her. She says whatever is on her mind, and does whatever her heart dreams up. The beautiful thing about this BFF is that she stays down for the cause. She’s an excellent listener, gives amazing advice, stays patient with me when I manage to tell the same sob story over and over again, and most importantly, never judges me. She’s also free-spirited, fun-loving, and a shop-a-holic. Some have called her “selfish” and a bit “childish”, but whatever dude. Nobody is perfect – and that’s my girl.

I would say she’s a pretty accurate reflection of me, too. We joined the same organizations in college; we work hard, and party hard. Well, sometimes we party a little harder than we work… but we work damn hard, so you can only imagine what we’re like at the club. She’s not a pushover, and neither am I. She knows what she wants, and she’s headstrong about getting there. What I really admire about her, and I was telling my mother about this the other day, is that she’s a HUSTLER. She hustles everything from designer sunglasses to academic diplomas. This woman received two degrees from our alma mater in 2006. TWO. She’s getting two more as we speak. TWO MORE. That’s four degrees in eight years. Count them with me: 2 + 2 = 4. WTF? Who does that?! And, I call her a hustler because she knows exactly what to do, what to say, and who to talk to in order to get things done. This girl is not slaving away at a desk or computer to earn these degrees. And, to be perfectly clear (because I don’t want to undermine her intelligence), it’s not because she’s not smart. She has learned the art of education, and is using it to her advantage. School isn’t always about the education… it’s sometimes about life lessons. Learning how and when to cut corners; it’s not always “what you know” but “who you know”; sometimes a kind word here and there will take you a lot farther than busting your ass on a term paper, etc. I mean, she could write a book. And she has… but it’s a book of inspirational Haiku. More on that later.

While a person can look at our friends, and learn about us, the same can be said about our taste. The way we dress ourselves, decorate our homes and office space, listen to music, consume food, and spend our spare time reflects who we are. There’s an interesting website that tests this theory. Surprisingly, my results were dead on. The site uses our sense of visual aesthetics to illustrate our character canvas, so to speak. So really, who we are is never actually a secret. I consider myself a private person, but there are some discernible truths about me and my personality that are evidently clear to everyone. Through my friends, my wardrobe, my iPod, and my checkbook, it’s possible that you could never meet me in person, and yet know me pretty well. (I hope you wouldn’t laugh when you saw my checkbook, by the way. It manages to teeter around $0 every two weeks, just before payday. It is what it is.)

Try the site out, though. Fifteen images will appear, with a question or prompt. Choose the image that best reflects your attitude towards the question. The site guides you through eight or ten questions, and then reveals insights about your personality based on the images you chose. Go ahead… You might even learn something new about yourself. It’s the Single Aesthetic at work… Who’d’ve thunk it?!

Http://DNA.imagini.net/friends