labelle is the shit.

evidence:



i mean, most of you who read this blog are already well aware of the levels of gangsta involved.

but in case you were clueless, i figured it important that it be made clear.

i'm in some kind of a personal war.

there's a fight. the life i want vs. the way i make a living. i don't like it one bit. i don't fight the notion that forward movement is paramount. i know i have to do A to get to B. but there's this cacophony of every supportive voice i've ever heard combining with my own higher self pretty much singing in a round 'this isn't where you're supposed to be. you can't stay here.'

it's not the work that comes w/ the promotion. i don't care about workload -- i can get stuff done without feeling overwhelmed most times, even with the two functions i serve in one office. this bridge called my back, anyone?
it's not that. and it's not the being on the spot, going to meetings, pressing through . . . all that doesn't matter.

it's that, at the core of myself, i know without a doubt in my mind, with every fiber of my being, that i'm supposed to be welcoming babies into the world. i'm supposed to be throwing fabulous events with dear friends and enjoying not having a day job. this shit is not even for the birds -- those motherfuckers are happy doing what they do. it's . . . it's just not for me.
so now i'm having problems sleeping at night because i don't effin wanna be where i have to be the next morning.
i don't tie my rent to that job. i tie money to that job. when i leave, i will be making the same money, if not better, because i know that's how it's supposed to be. i will teach, i will tutor, i will doula, i will study, i will do everything i need to do to keep this roof over my head.
and you know what?
it won't have shit to do with that 'good city job.'

i've had a lot of time

to reflect.
i started the road to what i really wanna do.
and now, i'm simply putting one foot before the other to get there.
more later -- i need some sleep.

it's too hot to blog

i don't want this hot ass machine in my lap, so i'm not writing much. lol.

i'm on hiatus until further notice.

absolute teetotal truth: esthero.

here's the original blog post. she's dead on. more ppl need to read this.

on: r. kelly, demons, black folk, and gordon gartrell radio.

1) omi gave me the impetus.
2) phonte drove it home here. among other gems, he said 'the same power structure that says cops can put 50 bullets in a nigga is the same one that tells entertainers it's okay to piss on lil black girls.' YUP.
3) that motherfucker is guilty any time his damn attorney offers the 'little man' defense as what's supposed to be a legit means of proving innocence.
4) i'm glad this has actually made it to trial. really.
5) anyone who puts the fault on that little girl would probably have let the motherfucker pee on their grown asses. being in awe of celebrity, being impressionable, and being just plain uninformed of one's own power are not exclusive to kids.
6) in the first episode of the boondocks, huey asked tom dubois 'do you know the extent to which niggas love r. kelly?' and at this point in time i can say: the love was underestimated. it seems like ppl are looking for reasons for it to be okay. it ain't.
7) i don't think white ppl give a damn about it. and probably wouldn't unless it was a white girl he'd peed on. see: kobe.
8) we can't forget aaliyah. we can't.
9) the whole trial appears to be a zoo. not a sex zoo. just a regular ass, dysfunction-on-parade zoo.
10) most ppl who talk so much about sex and god (and rarely have subject matter that deviates from either) are mentally damaged. see: bizzy bone, marvin gaye (AND his daddy, i'm sure).

crushes suck: june 2008

dear you:
i'm mad you have a girlfriend, but not really.
if only i'd had my way, you never woulda made it back to her. real rap. and that's no diss to ol girl. she's aight, but she's not me.
i know special looks when i get 'em
i know how to give 'em too

just rest assured that if the opportunity arises, i'ma take you someplace cozy and show you what a badass brown girl like myself can do.
and keep your hands off the small of my back
stop making me laugh
and PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF CORN, stop being so fucking adorable.

thanks,

the management

addendum:
i do believe that you're certain of my wondrousness. i fully anticipate that you won't shy away if you split up w/ that lil girlfriend person and have some time to reflect on the goodness of me. mmhmm. don't think i don't know.