by omi, so here goes nothin:
*What side of the heart do you draw first?
the vena cava.
*Can you dive without plugging your nose?
probably, but i hated diving because the bottom of the pool was a whole effing TWELVE FEET away from me. that shit makes me wildly nervous.
*What color is your phone?
*Who would you want to be tied to for 24 hours?
jonathan haagensen? shit, i don't know. depends on if we're tethered closely.
*Where are you right now?
*How do you feel about carrots?
fresh, steamed, or not at all
*How many chairs at the dining room table?
i don't have a dining room
*Who is the best Spice Girl?
*Do you know what time it is?
time for me to get off the damn computer
*What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator?
make sure i had water & some contact w/ the outside
*What’s your favorite kind of gum?
*T or F: All is fair in love and war?
false. and that's supposed to be a declarative statement; no question mark necessary.
*Do you use words that you don’t know the meaning to?
rarely, if ever.
*Do you like to sleep?
*Do you know which US states don’t use Daylight Savings?
i know indiana and arizona don't.
*Do you know the song Sugar We’re Goin’ Down?
*Do you want a bright yellow ‘06 mustang?
hell and no
*What’s something you’ve always wanted?
a giant afro
*Do you wear a lot of black?
*Are you an adult?
is your mom?
*Who is/are your best friends?
i don't really have one. i haven't claimed anyone as such since i was in high school
*Do you have a tan?
not anymore. it faded. :(
*Are you a television addict?
not in the least
*Do you enjoy spending time with your mom?
she cooks. i don't. you figure it out
*Are you a sugar freak?
no but i love gummi bears
*What is your favorite movie?
don't have one
*What’s your sign?
*Where do you wish you were right now?
in a new apartment
*Who did you copy this from?
*How do you know them?
she's my sister, but from different biological parents...
*Would you have sex with them?
i'm not her type!
*What brand of shirt are you wearing?
my favorite trapeze dress
*Have you ever smoked anything?
lawd YES & i'm about to do that soon...
by omi, so here goes nothin:
would you LOOK at that gloriousness? good god almighty. so what if i'm 3 years his senior? that doesn't matter. so what if i only know how to say "bom dia" to portuguese speakers without second guessing myself or thinking i sound crazy? he can teach me the same way nettie taught celie to read in the color purple -- w/ wax paper, crayons, & everyday household items. we can skip the whole oliver twist thing. i don't like that book. i'll read the alchemist or veronika decides to die instead. yup.
(if you've never seen city of god, you lose. go see it. dig him as cabeleira ('shaggy') & understand the gorgeousness.)
trader joe's pomegranate white tea. iced w/ lime juice and the right amount of turbinado or agave nectar . . . lord. just get some, please. that is, get some for me. cuz i'm gonna drink all of what i have.
the west elm storage bed. yes, lord. in chocolate, queen sized. it took me forever to decide what kind of bed i wanted . . . & i've found it. now i just have to order the thing, put it together, & enjoy it. (i also need new bed linen, but that's really on some 'go buckwild at ross or burlington' stuff)
a new apartment. not the one pictured above -- this is for illustrative purposes only. but i need a new one. i'm literally outgrowing the space i'm in, not to mention having problems with my landlord being one of these. the long term goal, of course, is a home of my own but that's gonna take a bit longer. the immediate needs i have: 1-2 br, $650 or less per month, respectable neighborhood, proximity to public transit (the car will be procured early 2008), & good neighbors. i need lots of natural light, i don't mind a walkup, & i think it's important that i have fully functioning (even if older) fixtures. i just want it to be a dope space where i can entertain, live, & be happy.
so maybe this is really an i love | i need | i need post?
jonathan haagensen on the arm. good JESUS he is one fine motherfucker. he popped up in favela rising & i was like gotdammit. it's like when you find your favorite something or another hidden away someplace... like "hey, boo, i forgot i was in love." i mean, i'd be his official weed carrier with no qualms. well, not actually. but, i'm sayin. boy is fine. wow.
sunday morning eye candy. might be a good, regular post to have. don't you think?
touring the favelas of rio is some new cute tourist activity. i need to know what the deal is. is it just an issue of cheap lodging? is poverty simply so fascinating that the visitors have to go see how the other half lives not in their own nations, but in latin america? are people actually working in these communities to change them, like grupo cultural afro reggae?
i ask because i'm black. & i come from salt-of-the-earth, hard working black folks who worked hard as hell to get everything they've ever had -- just like most of the world's poor folks. i don't know what it is, but i don't see a whole lot of these same do-gooders trying to stay in the states & help folks in the hood here. i don't. i do, however, tend to see folks with purportedly activist & altruistic leanings trying to get me to sign up for save the children while i'm on my freaking lunch break. i bristle at the mere notion that organizations like dialoguedirect are hiring young folks here & putting them to work to raise money. it bothers me that direct action doesn't seem to be an option for folks anymore. & maybe it is; perhaps i'm not in the right circles. i could be kind of removed from the activist community by virtue of my day job. i'm not certain. maybe the widespread notion that white folk just cannot be trusted is really ingrained in my head & i have yet to shake it off.
but touring the hood? like that shit is cute? i really, really hope that's not the case. the police maim & kill however & whomever they want to. it's not a secret. it's a lot harder for police here to get away with that shit. & i'm not implying that the lack of safety in favelas (or any slums, or squatter communities anywhere) should be a reason withhold help or to stay away altogether. but, let's be for real: some of these same folks (nicknamed 'poorists') are not tryna crash in or near the now-defunct cabrini-green homes when they go to chicago. they were never trying to hang around the 4th ward of new orleans. never.
some of these same folks will just gush about the humanity of the people, & the beauty, etc . . . then make a nasty face at the black kids sitting near them on the subway. come the hell on. hell, when they come teeming from gringolandia into the city where my family lives, it's not about anything other than shopping & maybe picking up a hooker or running some drugs. but you go into a store like marti's (btw, a white man, i believe an american, owns that store) & hear all the cooing about what's so cute, how _____ is so authentic, and goddess knows what else. it makes me sick.
i try my damnedest not to be that woman, the one who gives kids money because they're just so cute & it must make their day to get coins from an american. i don't want to be the lady who loves la raza so much when i'm there but shuns the dude who's bussing my table at vietnam palace.
i dunno. i'm rambling.
but my original question still kinda stands: what's up w/ that?
Imagine you are on your deathbed. Recommend to those who remain in your life...
1) One book to read.
~ sassafrass, cypress & indigo by ntozake shange
2) One movie to watch.
~ bus 174
3) One food to eat.
~ fresh mango.
4) One place to go.
~ the desert.
5) One life lesson to leave behind.
~ if you believe that you're god's child, treat others like they are, too.
now, i love me some amy winehouse. i do. both of her albums are in constant rotation w/ me -- work, home, it doesn't matter. i love her music. it was such a real treat to see her at the black lily concert (even though ?uestlove screwed the song up -- don't ask me how i know that; i have sources), & if i'm on a youtube kick, i'm likely to look up her videos.
but this makes me sad.
*sigh* i hate to see ppl doing this kind of shit to themselves. i mean, she told perez hilton a different story than what's largely being reported, & if it's true, then fine. but that doesn't mean she shouldn't be treating herself better, if possible. if homegirl's cutting herself, that means something's bothering her. she cancelled the north american tour, so i hope she really takes the time to get shit sorted out. one can only hope, right?
she reminds me so much of this girl i went to high school with...
i was bored
& honestly, i was avoiding doing laundry (note the crumpled dress under my head, next to the pillow)
my hair looks like kiwi fuzz. lmao. i need either a haircut or some serious dedication to growing my 'fro out. at the moment i'm considering hollering at the malian sisters who braid hair in my neighborhood. i think i could bring back the kanekalon or body wave 10 inch for a few months. maybe. i'm not patient enough to sit for microbraids anymore. lol.
| By Peter Biles |
BBC News, Johannesburg
They follow newspaper allegations that she underwent a liver transplant while suffering from alcoholism.
The government says the reports are "false and speculative", and President Mbeki's office says he still has confidence in his health minister.
Dr Tshabalala-Msimang has - in the past - come under fire over her unorthodox approach to the HIV-Aids crisis.
Her emphasis on the use of garlic and beetroot for HIV sufferers brought her many critics.
But over the past fortnight, South Africa's Sunday Times newspaper has made startling allegations that the health minister was an alcoholic who jumped the queue to obtain a liver transplant earlier this year.
The paper has also said that as part of a five-month investigation, it discovered that Dr Tshabalala-Msimang was convicted of stealing from a patient when she worked as a medical superintendent at a hospital in Botswana 30 years ago.
The health ministry has dismissed the newspaper allegations as "false, speculative and bizarre".
It is now in the process of preparing a more detailed response.
President Thabo Mbeki's official spokesman, Mukoni Ratshitanga, has called on anyone with firm evidence, to produce it.
President Mbeki and Dr Tshabalala-Msimang have an association that stretches back more than four decades.
They were part of the same group of students which fled South Africa to go into exile in 1962.
Ten days ago, Mr Mbeki fired his deputy health minister, Nozizwe Madlala-Routledge, saying she had not been a team player and had made an unauthorised trip to an Aids conference in Spain.
Published: 2007/08/20 12:20:55 GMT
© BBC MMVII
all i want to do is eat & sleep
eat & sleep
watch a movie
i hate feeling this way, honestly. i want to turn on my space heater (i was just running my air conditioner last week, wtf?), wear fleecy things or denim skirts & tights, & sip on this mint hot chocolate i have in the cabinet. gah. somewhere in this early hibernation (or a winter test-run, i guess you could call it) i'm listening to nina simone, wondering if i'll ever sign up for crochet classes, drooling over new yarns, & generally getting ready to hole up in my apartment.
but i wanna move
i want a new place to live
i'm ready to start looking, even if my money isn't all there.
i need casserole dishes and real effing dishes for once (i've survived on plastic/ paper all this time, i dunno how) . . . i want a new tea kettle & some new legwear.
yeah, it's the weather. all of a sudden i'm like in needy broad mode. this has to stop, or be relieved by some massive financial contributions from viewers like you. *cheezin* thanks!
p.s. -- i would also like to add to the list of weather-change goodies the following items:
more brainchild radio/ dj brainchild podcasts
a cuddlejawn (if you have to ask, you must not know me)
lots and lots of tea
enough time to use my vegetarian soup cookbook (HELLO, vegan pho)
a nice, cozy birthday outing
lots & lots of tasty wine
several pairs of dope sneakers (it's residual conditioning from elementary/ middle/ high school)
... did i mention a new apartment? yeah.
wish list fall '07. i hope i can make all of this happen.
after having watched the whole documentary, i'm not fully certain that j. michael seyfert really delved into every aspect of the sex tourism in jamaica. instead, it seems that he touched on it as a segue into rasta culture/ philosophy. there's nothing necessarily wrong w/ that, but i definitely thought i'd be seeing something a bit different. i suppose, though, that this film serves to explain (even if loosely) what/ who rastas are vs. the outside world's often stereotypical view of them.
i don't believe for one minute that this even scratches the surface, for real. the women who engage in such activities worry the shit out of me, but that's another rant for another day.
yes, i know the nappy-headed hoes thing is old.
but there was a ripple effect. ppl are attacking hip hop like snoop dogg & nelly created the idea that blk women are hypersexualized. ppl are still talking about the level of responsibility of everyone but themselves. i'm not with it, personally.
peep the video. she makes some really excellent points.
holding my tongue
holding my breath
tryna hold my head above the tides of tears
my foremothers wept
through osmosis i
learn the way they held it together in public
then fell apart in private
in sinks full of dishes
tubs overflowing w/ babies
they let the saline drop
(this isn't finished, i'll be back for it)
are linked. they're bound, tied up in one another & it seems that some folks are focused more on what they'll look like post-surgery than how they feel. the attitude toward nearly-instant gratification in regard to weight loss has always startled me. i'm under the impression that nobody gets fat overnight, so they ought not anticipate losing the weight overnight. it's like people forget. there's no microwave for this shit. at least, i don't believe that there's one. folks have complications, they get sick, they ignore doctor's orders once they lose the weight . . . the variables involved are too many for there to be a specific outcome every time. it's not even guaranteed that the weight loss will happen -- some ppl never even make it through the surgery. that worries & saddens me. i don't like the idea that you can get some kind of magic eraser thing going on when it comes to how damaged your body is. because, that's essentially what excessive weight does. some folks have thyroid conditions, some have no idea how to best nourish themselves, & others have a strong emotional connection to food. there are ppl who fall into all three of those categories & then some. my point is, it usually doesn't happen overnight. & if you do it to yourself, why can't you undo it yourself? that's where i am.
every day i'm smarter
paying more attn to what my stomach tells me, regardless of what the bitch ass clock at work says
& knowing what the deal is w/ the things i put into my body. i'm really not keen on crash dieting (that shit is dangerous, not to mention maddening), nor am i gonna ingest any random pills to burn fat. cardio can do that for me.
i'll be satisfied w/ the outcome.
the latest goal is mine exclusively to be aware of, it's not about a number, it's about a feeling. it's about noticing some things. i find that if i'm doing things that make me feel fulfilled in general, i'm less likely to feel like a slug. even if i'm tired, i'll keep going if there's something i want to do.
my work ethic, i suppose, gets in the way of the shortcut. if there's something that i really want to happen, i'll make it so. period. determination & motivation must be maintained in order to achieve. that's a fact.
i don't knock ppl for having the surgery. i don't. that's btwn you & your insurance company. some folks need surgery before they get to the diet & exercise thing. i know someone who actually didn't know what it was to eat to the point of satisfaction instead of the point of being stuffed . . . or eating until the food was just plain gone. that's odd to me. i come from a family where the depression era dictated food shopping patterns. you don't eat just because it's there -- that's greedy -- but you eat to the point of satisfaction, as long as there's enough for everyone. i also grew up around two uncles who learned what a "man's meal" should be from their trucker father. one uncle was a construction working part-time drug dealer & the other was a phone tech (bell atlantic, anyone?) & part-time drug addict. my mother was an emotional eater who didn't want to influence her daughters negatively. so, she changed her habits early on. lean protein, lots of fruits & veggies, & NO KOOL AID. i think i'm the only black woman who grew up in a house where kool aid was considered trash. soda wasn't really allowed either. i didn't have the experience of having a soda & chips for snack every day on my way home from school. because it had no nutritive value. because my mother or grandmother cooked every single day, & there was plenty good in celery sticks w/ peanut butter.
my household was also full of secrets, the occasional drama, keeping up appearances kind of shit. let's not be stupid -- some black folks think food will fix anything. the easiest way to stifle things is to stuff them inside by any means. raise your hand if you know anyone who'll give a kid some food if they're upset, no matter what, feed them ice cream for getting an A on a test. like, no matter what, i'm going to feed you instead of knowing that you're hungry. kind of sick, but true. i don't think people recognize that. maybe they do & don't care.
i just know that i'm working to support myself. i am not making enough money to be a binge eater. (don't laugh, it's true) not with where i do my grocery shopping. the wildest shit i'm prone to do is eat the results of an entire trader joe's guacamole kit. not a great idea, but it's not a cheesesteak platter for lunch at my sit-down job, after an omelet & home fries for breakfast not even 3 hours prior. it's complicated. this whole nation is based on the principle of having more, & not necessarily the principle of having/ doing better. it seems almost 2nd nature to many americans, from what i see, to over consume. there are plenty reasons why.
i could be here all day writing about overeating, emotional damage, consumption, & weight.
but i'm gonna get an early start on my day. i need to at least get dressed to go walking...
was a breath of fresh god. i laughed, ate, drank, loved, played, & generally enjoyed ppl w/ whom i love to commune. i mean, wow. i really had fun.
i need to get yani & foster their own tv show.
karas, thank you SO much for opening your home to us
we'll celebrate extra hard when you c-walk down the aisle in may next year
i love you for being your generous, wild self
next time you need a box of jeezis aych, holla @ your girl
leaving it all behind, by ladybug mecca.
yes, that ladybug mecca.
love it. it reflects just how i feel about 75% of my life right now.
take the link & run with it! it expires after 15 consecutive days of no download, so, please get your mind right. lol.
for the first time in like a week, i'm late to work. but i had to shower before leaving the house. lol.
i have a samsung sync (gh-a707), & one of the best things about my phone is allllll the wild shit i can do w/ the camera. i can do more than one shooting mode, there's a timer, & even visual effects like sepia tone, b & w, & (my favorite) the negative. i'm currently loving the hell out of the mosaic effect:
i'll be back w/ more cell phone antics.
more 84 degree days
a fly haircut
more impetus to cook
a good backrub
sweet kisses from a sweet mouth
a really good roll in the hay
time w/ my girls
a new apartment
the green light on my latest scheme
a manicure & pedicure
more pomagrand lemonade
more music, period
time to watch my lil movies & really enjoy them
a dvd or two featuring the fania all stars
a dope tan
some more dresses
new places to drink tasty beverages
a nice long bath
there's more but i forget it all.
this week i'm staking my claim...
i'm not going to work. my stupid-visor actually told me that i needed to be in today if i'm working OT. ho are you smoking blue rocks? the OT isn't mandatory to begin with. & nothing in that place is as important to me as my gotdamn paycheck. get your mind right, please.
i'm ruled by my mood, the level of bliss i have in my life, & the way the wind is blowing at any given time. just because i'm there monday through friday doesn't mean i (a) give a shit, or (b) want to be there. i'm beat. i didn't feel like getting up early to be annoyed by the cavalcade of coonery or the parade of plum foolishness. so i'm gonna clean my apt a bit, hang out w/ my mommy (i never DO that anymore, fuckin around w/ that job) & then hopefully go kick it w/ riley.
i'm so not with the bullshit today.
so let me get my oatmeal & get the day started.
soundtrack: osn podcast #2 (unreleased) - by dj brainchild.*
can i get a track listing, bill? please? thank you. you know i love you to pieces.
but every day it's getting harder to fight the bile i feel building up inside me regarding the vast majority of bullshit i'm exposed to daily.
i can't change septa's ridership, what they read or listen to, or what they eat.
but i rally as much as possible against the madness at my job. every time someone says something ignorant, i have to brace myself & then correct them
whether they're fucking up someone's name (major pet peeve of mine) or making a rude statement about someone's name (ie the dude named olayemi who goes by 'ben' b/c his middle name, benedict, is easier for crass english speakers who also happen to be lazy, or the stankness associated w/ addressing one of the indian women who're administrators), i'm willing at least 7 out of 10 times to dig in someone's ass.
i know, that seems kinda futile considering where i work & the adherence of my colleagues to overall assholish behaviours. but i can't help it.
it's tiring as hell, i will say that much.
i don't even know if i sleep better at night knowing i'm a good fight fanatic.
guess i'll find out if i make some sort of impact on those folks.
on this shit right here, man . . . good lord. i mean, it's dope that nicole murphy & mel b. can get their shit together & be grown ups about this whole situation. but the comments at the bottom of this post tickle me to no end.
am i turning into a celebrity gossip junkie? hell + yes.
so sue me.
there could be worse things. like having sex w/ minors and peeing on them, then blaming my sibling for the video footage that was clearly taken in my home . . . & singing songs about jesus every time someone thinks they might take me to trial for such. (the bastard goes on trial september 17 & i cannot WAIT. i genuinely hope he gets his ass handed to him. fucker.)
look!!! she's the DIYer of the week at newsday's cheap thrills blog. yay! i strongly recommend that you buy her designs. i own a few pieces, i've given some pieces as gifts & i can guarantee that you will not ever, under any circumstances, find products like hers. mariam's one of the most intuitive, progressive, avant garde jewelry designers i know. i love her to pieces. & her little boy is CUTE. i wanna put him on some rye toast w/ horseradish mayo & red leaf lettuce. mmmmm, tasty baby. . .
the studio version of jill scott's "hate on me," because it sounds kinda overproduced . . . & sort of um . . . canned, if you will. but she sang it at the black lily closing show in may & i loved it. maybe it was ?uesto & the band, maybe it was because amy fucking winehouse had shown up. or maybe because i know just wtf she's talking about in the lyrics. my sista said if i gave you diamonds/ out of my own womb/ would you feel the love in that/ or ask, "why not the moon?" can we pause, reflect & breathe on that for a moment, please? i mean, damn. there are some folks on this earth who will tear every last tendon & bit of muscle from your bones & seek more if they believe you've got more for them to take. there are sometimes instances when ppl will show you precisely how ridiculous they are, & it's like katt williams said: "you mad at breakfast? nigga, you gangbangin on bacon?" pissed, desperate. grabby & needy for no reason other than their own exaggerated sense of entitlement & sadly inflated ego. tearing apart everyone around them in the name of being whom or what, i do not know. but they do it; & think that shit is peace. isn't.
the thing is, we are all humans
& we all have our moments where we have to think critically about others & by extension ourselves (i hope we all think critically about ourselves at some point or another). not to take away from or tear down anyone, but to really see who we are & what it's hittin for. head on. & truly, i think that within such processes, we kinda gain a clarity. a perspective that shows us a little better how we simply aren't ever really in a position to shit on someone else's situation. yes, someone may be troubled or misguided or whatever. but is that really a reason to decide that they're undeserving of your keeping your nose out of their shit?
i don't mean people who maim bunnies or kidnap elderly women or pee on teenage girls on videotape and then blame the shit on their brothers. i'm talking about your homegirl who's trying to finish her master's degree & make herself a better person at the same time. i'm speaking of anyone who's just living her or his every day life & is most likely progressing with it. nothing wrong w/ wondering about why your people are in the mess that they are. there's no shame in venting about the one friend you have who continually places her or himself in situations that always require mediation or some large amount of financial assistance. you can wonder all those things -- i think it's normal, to gain the best perspective possible on how you may or may not fit into all of this.
but if you're just plain pissed at someone's existence on this planet & instead of ignoring them you're seeking out reasons to talk shit on them, then perhaps you need to go rap w/ dr. phil or somebody. cuz that's just ridiculous.
straight vampires, yo.
leave that shit alone. some of us work to get where we are, while others just end up there serendipitously. either way, i'm not in a position to judge.
i'm not afraid of/ what i got/ i paid for . . .
y'all know i'm talkin about arruh kelly, right? trapped in the closet chapter 13, in just enough time for his kiddie porn charges to go to trial.
the "oh, shit" thing is priceless.
this time, insanity is funny.
(links courtesy of crunk & disorderly)
ladies & gentlemen, i present to you the zoo, in all its ridiculousness. unfortunately this isn't a whole performance, but y'all get the gist.
i have to stay a little while longer. even though i don't want to. even though every day i find myself thinking that i'm gonna have to run away to new york or pick up all my shit & hide out at my mom's house for 8 weeks of intensive "i can't really hack it as a grownup" therapy (better known as working the same fucked up 12 hour days no fewer than 4 days per week, not paying ANYone's bills except my own, looking for a new job on craigslist & watching a lot of crappy tv w/ my sisters). it's really obvious. it is. i complained rather audibly to one of my at-work play auntie type coworkers & then in the afternoon, what happened? my division manager announced that basically she wants to utilize the knowledge of myself & some other support staff to turn us into . . . wait for it . . . are you ready? paraprofessionals. i know! basically she wants to find a way, even within the civil service system (which, though it is not inherently racist but definitely antiquated & still fucked up), to pay us what we're worth. make sure that our skills & awareness don't go to waste & ooze out of our ears. that's what her predecessor did. constantly. i can't say i'm terribly excited, because this is not where i wanna be for the rest of my life. i don't even wanna hit the five year mark (the very idea makes me nauseous as shit) at this place when i never intended to stay beyond two. at the same time, i've been itching for the opportunity to be smart for a living -- to really know that i come to work & use the talents i already have.
i complained & got a very obvious response. i'm like . . . okay, but i don't have forever. & i don't care who's a great coworker, who has my back, who really looks out . . . i hate complacency.
& i feel kinda complacent.
i don't wanna give this place the rest of my life, so i won't. i don't want to fester & just sit & stagnate. so i won't allow myself to.
& i'm having the hardest time understanding what might be on the horizon in regard to the work situation, but i'm gonna shut the hell up & say thank you. i just know what i really want deep down inside. i'm tryna learn patience so i don't rush into it just so i can say "i quit my day job to do this!"
cuz let's face it, i need to get the money up. there are folks i want to include in my plan who are currently doing other shit (hey karas!). there isn't any way i'm gonna even feel okay doing this without a few crucial things having been taken care of first.
i don't know wtf is going on
but i know the universe answered me before i even got to finish bitching.