Sunday, March 18, 2018
And while I've been alone, I've been working on me. Working on figuring out who I am I after all of these years of adjusting myself to fit whatever I thought some man wanted.... And never fitting. Working on figuring out what I want out of life, out of love... What is love even ... for me?
But let me tell you, relationships after 45 are not easy. I knew it was going to be tough when I closed the door eleven years ago, I just didn't know that once I raised my standards, I'd find so few who would even attempt to cross the bar. I never would have guessed in my mid thirties that in my late forties, men would be expecting to simply fuck me. Even though I choose to cover. Yeah, I wear a headwrap daily. That, at this stage in my life, with my intelligence, my passion, my conversation... No man, in person approaches me with any interest in getting to know me. None approach in person. Some still slide in the DM with suggestive pics of what they'd like to do... Sigh...
So, 49 and waiting...
Sunday, February 22, 2015
That last episode of How To Get Away With Murder. Amazing on so many levels. They managed to layer, in one scene, so many complex issues that my mind was almost blown. And to top it off, my girl Cicely Tyson helped to bring it all home.
Rape - There is that issue that so many consider a women's lib issue. No, folks. That is a societal ill. We all know by now, that rape is not about sex; it's about violence and control. In one heated moment, the mother yells, I I told you! Men take things! They've been taking things from women since the beginning of time." A man is a sick individual who has to take from a woman in order to feel powerful, and it is a sick society (nationally and globally) that continues to allow this violence to happen with little to no consequence for the perpetrators.
Incest - Ooooooo, no they didn't. But oh, yes! They did. We will not be taking THIS to the grave! We will talk about IT ... RIGHT... NOW! So, black people, hold on to your slips, your panty hose, your girdles and all those other things you use to "keep it together." We are going to let it all hang out. Incest does happen in black families. Uncle did touch Daughter like that. Daddy did touch Son like that. Sister did touch Cousin like that. Now, whatcha gonna DO about that? Now, in our fictional world of HTGAWM, mother burned uncle alive. There; justice is served. That low down, incestual pervert got what he deserved...but what about the little girl/boy who will struggle to develop into a whole adult? Yes, Take-It-To-Gravers, black people need to talk to therapists, too.
Mother/Daughter Relationships - (*Disclaimer* I'm a daughter. And I have a mother. So understand, I've got my share of issues.) Can we say "misunderstanding"? Maaaan, how old is this story that never gets old? Can we communicate? Why didn't mama say something in allllllll of those years? From the moment Annalise's mother walks in the front door, it's clear that she is NOT shy about using her words. That "VIP" line ... Whaaaaat?! So how is it that this lady could not find her words to assure a girl child?
Naps - I'm sorry kinks. No? How about curly? No? Okay, let's try Type 4A? Ya'll, I'm messing with you. I'm a black woman and I've got nappy hair. Wait... Hold on...bear with me. I understand the historical connotation of the word "nappy". Believe me, as a little girl, I bore the shame of my naps. Wouldn't it have been better if my father was Puerto Rican? Then, I could have that pretty, long, and wavy hair like that girl who sat two seats in front of me. You know, the one whose hair was so pretty all the boys liked to touch it... Anyway, this is the hair I have, and over the years, I've learned to not only accept it for what is, I also LOVE it and all of its kinks. And I've come to feel bad for people who have this marvelously textured hair but still fear/feel that it does measure up to any standard of beauty.
- Enter: Annalise and her mother ...and a large toothed comb (Yep, in this instance, the comb is a character in its own right.).
- Mother sits with daughter seated on floor, between mother's legs.
- Mother begins combing through daughter's thick and nappy/kinky/tightly curled/4A hair.
- Audience hears the snapping of tangles being loosened.
- Audience sees mother pause to release some of the hair from the comb.
- Mother begins to use comb to scratch daughter's scalp...and bonding begins...
- End scene.
Watch the episode preview: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UarhW6svZjA
The Huffington Post did a great job of capturing most of the moments I talked about: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/02/19/how-to-get-away-with-murd_2_n_6720164.html
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
Before today, I was flip flopping on whether to continue with Mr. Acts-Like-A-Horny-Teen or not. I like the attention he sometimes shows me, but I don't like the way he assumes my kisses, the way he kisses, his inability to express himself without "you know what I'm sayin' " being thrown in after every five or so words. I really don't like his kisses. I don't want to settle ever again. I've been alone. I am alone, but I'm not lonely.
I'm good until what He promised comes to me.
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Friday, January 17, 2014
I went for a walk with my kid yesterday around our hood. Without exaggeration, I noticed that many men were staring at me. At one point, there were about 4 men looking all at once. So ... why don't I have anybody (besides that one guy) knocking down my door? My 12 year old said, "I don't want to sound creepy or anything, but these guys are staring at you because you're really good looking." That brought a smile. But he's my kid. He thinks I'm beautiful at 150 pounds or 272 pounds. And I love him for that.
Now, if the right one (who isn't my son) can check me out.
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
After the the specialist explained to me how the testing goes, he, his second second doctor, and the technician began the procedure. It was supposed to be cut and dry. Very little wait time. It was supposed to go like this:
1. use the needles to withdraw samples from the nodule four times.
2. take the samples out to the lab in the hall and look at them
3. after a few minutes, results would be known
4. they would share the results with me
It didn't go exactly like that. Steps 1-2 went as planned. Step three...
They took the samples out to the hall. I waited a few minutes. Then, I waited a little more. Finally, a different man came into the room to explain that he is the head of the lab department, and my test results might not be back until after Christmas. All the way through Monday, I continued to hope that I would receive a call about my results so that I could go into the week without the results on my mind. During the lab guy's spiel, the specialist, the second doctor, and the tech entered the room. And I was told "after Christmas for the last time, this weekend.
Now, here I sit on Christmas evening, and my thoughts keep going back to my test results. It's getting to me.
Sunday, September 1, 2013
Working under the premise that I am responsible for finding my own fun, I need to find something fun for me to do. It can't be more than once a week because my first responsibility is to be a parent to my boys.
The question then is what will I do?
- dance class?
- book club?
- take myself to dinner and a movie?
I will definitely need to put some thought into that.