A Flower Pot is Not a Hat

Weight: 141 lbs (trying not to freak out)
Drinks: Countless mimosas at the Bens Next Door  (there should definitely be a warning)
Food: eh nothing special

I'm not sure why I've named this blog A Flower Pot Is Not a Hat .  It was one of my favorite books growing up.  It still has some wisdom that is seldom found in books for grown folks.

A flower pot is not a hat
But if you put it on your head
it is

A stair is not a bed
but if you lay on it
and take a nap
it is

I actually wanted to discuss  a string of bad luck i've been having. I guess I don't really believe in luck. But there have been a definite trend lately.

Bad things tend to come in threes.  And good things come peppered throughout.  They distract you from the bad things.  Then all of a sudden the second bad thing happens and you're awakened to the fact  that you're in the middle of this badmind trio.

Thats where I am at right now, waiting for the 3rd bad thing.  In the middle of experiencing a new focus to my writing, an article in the September issue of Marie Claire, vacation planning and photo shoots, comes the first thing:  "Im sorry ma'am but until the next court date there's nothing we can do." 

Then new career paths, job opportunities and new friends comes thing number 2:  "Mommy why are all the lights off?" and "I'm so sorry ma'am since the account is not in your name we can't even discuss this with you."

Yes, two "sorry ma'ams" in the same month.  Not a good sign at all.  The third thing is coming, I can feel it.  But I suppose its all in how you deal with things.  Your perspective.  I usually find myself trying to force some more good things to happen to thwart # 3.  But I know better now.  Its best just to let it happen and deal with the third thing, and wait patiently for good things 6-24 to make it better.  I know it and they will come.  It will happen organically I just have to let things be.  Because after all,

A bad thing is not a crisis
But if you agonize and hide from it
it is

Frosted Shredded Wheat

137 lbs
haven't cooked all week
last week cooked everyday (tho that was poverty induced)
3 words: Mo Scat OH

So what up y'all? It's been a minute.  So I  thought I'd  drop a proper blog to catch up.  Hmmmm so whats been up with me?

I tried out for the  When Harlem Came to Paris extraveganza by Lil So So Productions . I wrote an essay and she called and said she would like me to be a part. Ha! what do you think of that.  I tried and it worked out.  It was a great night and I looked fabulous.  I may rethink the whole natural girl no make up thing cuz jeez it makes a heck of a difference.  Maybe not skin but definitely eyes.  Oh and I had to perform a bit too.  I wasn't scared at all and I think I did okay.  So much so that I was brave enough to do open mic a couple of weeks ago.  And I know I did more than okay.  Talent is confirmed.  Feeling pretty confident. I did a few more brave things:

• submitted work to DC Writer's competition (i'm still in the running made it through first round)
• submitted work to Poet Lore and Poetry online mag
• submitted story to The Sun

I am also being brave personally.  I'm making new friends.  Putting myself out there and so far so good.  I also am trying to make better choices in dating.  I figure it this way: I get so jazzed everytime I meet someone new or reconnect with someone. Then reality sets in and I realize that not everyone has to be the one.  And I should stop sabotaging myself by keeping men far at bay by offering physical first. Cuz boys have a hard time shifting gears and seeing women for both physical and mental beings. For most men its one or the other and for them to see the mental part, they have to see that first.  If they get the physical first, they never bother to see the rest.  Unfortunately for me, I have this libido that really needs to be put in check.  But c'mon mama has needs!  *sigh*

Anyway, I want to have that Sunday kind of love. A love that last past saturday.  I keep finding Frosted Shredded Wheat love.  You know how frosted shredded wheat starts out all tasty, but then when you get down to it, is just as dry and tasteless as regular shredded wheat.  I mean shredded wheat tastes like straw flavored dirt.  And that frosting is just a tease to divert your attention from the dirt taste.  So yeah I'm looking for some sugar pops or fruit loops or cinammon toast crunch type action.

Next steps:

•  Continue working on the thing that will change public education as we know it (more information as it is confirmed and publicized)
• More open mics (but I'm pretty sure I could swing a feature. I got mad personality, son!)
• finish the book proposal from hell. (agents be making you jump through hoops, yo)
• finalize promotional pics and while i'm at it some pics of my beautiful sons
• lock down some summer adventures
• attend and have fun and learn at the black writers conference in Atlanta in June

I will not be just a tourist in the world of images, just watching images passing by which I cannot live in, make love to, possess as permanent sources of joy and ecstasy. ~Anais Nin

Underwater

Sometimes I want to go back in time

bring him back through space

holding tight to his waist

in an intergalactic spooning position

brng back what was the best of us

scrape together the makings of us

into my backpack

and bring us back

all the pieces

and glue them back together

back from ashes and dust

back to life again

all 2 hours and 36 minutes of us

wouldn't that be a good trick

checking in with you

making sure everything's ok with you

thats a lie

making sure something disastrous hasn't happened

making sure a "i'd love for you to meet my girlfriend" 

hadn't happened

though it may have

and i just haven't gotten back from space

with my hearing working properly

When you have been underwater for so long

breathing comes difficult

and I find myself looking

for a familiar island for me to breathe free

another lie

I just miss you

miss what we could have been

or what my mind had created us to be

they say curiosity killed the cat

but I am a dog person

and I don't think I'll ever learn

even this poem was written in your voice

What me and the boy chat about on the g-chat

so my son has a gmail account. and now he likes to g chat with me. even when we're both at the table less than a foot away from each other. Here is what our chats are like:




damion.deejay: ok

me: how was school

8:51 PM damion.deejay: good,good but it was awsome!!!!!

me: why was it awesome

8:52 PM damion.deejay: because.... we had friut snacks!

8:53 PM me: ooh yay!

8:54 PM damion.deejay: well what are we gonna do tomarow mornig and the afterNoon

me: hmmm

8:55 PM well after we get some breakfast we are definitely cleaning!

and then baths and dressed for ma's

damion.deejay: noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! no cleanin up!

8:56 PM me: yes, ur room is waaaay overdue

damion.deejay: but but i need help! :'(

8:57 PM me: yes of course. its YOUR room

damion.deejay: but...i...need...help

8:58 PM me: yes i will help you

we'll do it together

damion.deejay: yes

me: we'll put on your michael jackson cd and clean up to music!

damion.deejay: ok.true true

8:59 PM me: ok

!

9:02 PM damion.deejay: well im out peace

9:03 PM me: peace out, son!

Big Girl Weight (or How to Shake Your Booty With Confidence)

It is very interesting to me how I can be perfectly sane and forthright a person in my business relationships and be just as nervous and evasive in my personal ones. This morning I had a very straightforward discussion with a teacher, confronting him regarding his behavior which I felt was divisive and dishonest. I stated what the behavior was, how I felt about it, and its potential consequences. He stated his motivations, he apologized, new expectations were set. Fences mended, we move on.

Last nigt I attempted to have a similar conversation. But this time with a dude. Not just any dude. A dude I like. I llike him at about a 6 on a 10 point scale. Where a 1 is indifference and 10 is a turning in the players card and changing my number so the jump-offs can't find me type ish.

So a 6 is a solid like with potential for forward motion. Like 6 with a bullet. So dude, who I have named "Fred" is real cool. You know real nice and not too arrogant. And as Mary Poppins would say, "doesn't press his advantage." (Don't sleep, Mary Poppins gives great relationship advice). But some time has passed and real life has started up and consequently Fred's representative has clearly left the building. Last weekend there were a few of those "I'll call you back laters" which ended in no calls back and me grinding my teeth in anger. so I figure I'd let him know how I feel about that. I mean its a matter of basic manners. So I had the whole conversation generated in my head. Cuz basically I live about 75% of my life in my head.

It went something like this (WARNING: in my head I am a twenty something hair dresser living in Compton)



Me: hey Fred



Fred: hey boo whats up



Me: I wanted to let you know that alladat sayin you gon call and not callin needs to cease, yo.

I know you be all busy n shit but ain't no excuse for poor manners, boo boo.



Fred: yeah yeah you right you right. I'm sorry



Me: It's all good. you know I been likin you a long time and I just want to work this shit out now.

cuz i'm fitna make you my man, and you know, maybe possibly change my fb status. But that can't happen if you keep jackin stuff up. You may be my startin' line up, but I could still pull a nigga off the bench, yo.



Fred: Aaw baby don't do that. I know you are down for me and ain't too many broads out here a nigga can count on like that. I'm sorry. It won't happen again. I'm not gon take you for granted, shawty.



me: That's right. I'm ride or die, boo. You already know, daddy.



But unfortunately the conversation didn't go like that. Unfortunately, I'm not a tough chick from Compton who does hair. I'm just a scared little browngirl from Bowie who is tryna pray her way out of an anxiety disorder.



So the conversation actually went like this:



Me: Hey Fred



Fred: What's up



Me: Whatcha doin'



Fred: Nothin, just workin'



me: um, I just wanted to talk to you about something that was bothering me. Um, I thought it was best to tell you so I wouldn't hold onto it and . . .(trailing off)



Fred: ok



me: Well I noticed that there were a few times this weekend that you said you would call or call back and you didin't.



Fred: yeah I didn't call back. I'm sorry



me: it's okay. I just wanted to get it off my chest because I get really anxious in situations like this. And when I get anxious, I lose weight and I just got my booty just the right size and I would hate to lose it. (right now I'm begging myself just to shut up)



Fred: um, wait what? Are you blaming me for the size of your booty?



me: No! I just mean that I get anxious and um, . . .nevermind



Fred: Well, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You're right the weekend was really crazy and I got caught up, but im sorry about that.



And then we continued with a perfectly fine conversation. So yeah, not the Compton scenario, but the world didn't crumble after. Although I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm obsessed with my booty. Which is just fine, cuz I kinda am.



But have no fear. I was a big girl and my big girl weight is fully intact. The first picture below is one taken a year ago at my 36th birthday party. fabulous, yes. But check out the skeleton like thingie that was passing for a shoulder (that was full on anxiety attacks weekly, days in bed). The second picture was taken a year later, at cute boys birthday party. Same dress. Big girl weight in full effect. You can't see the booty, but check out them hips and thighs, boo. You already know...

Be Good To Yourself

I had a good day today.




At work I was at my best. Modeled a lesson and cajoled a foundation. All in two hours.



Then I left and spent the day with a beautiful boy. May be my favorite post divorce. And knowing that I only wrote "may be" because sometimes in my heart of hearts behind my bravado and fabulous bod, I think all good things will eventually leave if they know I want it . . . I'm working on it.



And then stopping for Popeyes and at Jackies Liquors for chicken and a splurge on some nuvo. Eating dinner with the boys and the younger one asks, "what does that say" pointing at the picture in the dining room. I say, "it says Home Sweet Home". The older one says, "yes, home in DC" I ask him if living in laurel isn't sweet. He says, "actually its kind of sweeter." The little one says, "that's a funny word, "home". I said, "why is it a funny word." He says, "listen, hoMe...Hooooome...Hoooommmme." and then we all laugh because the way he is saying it is very funny indeed.



And now I am writing and in a second I will take a hot shower and watch American Idol wrapped in my favorite towel. over a year ago I wrote a note about all of my favorite things and vowing to spend my days spending more time doing things that I am good at and that I enjoy. I am glad that promise is one that I made good on.



Be good to yourself. You deserve it. It is necessary. It is your responsibility to you. Be present in the little moments. For it is those little moments that make up a lifetime and the ones you need to remember in the not so bright times...

Loads of Hope for the Holidays

Loads of Hope for the Holidays

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