Single vs. Married

As I get ready to become Mrs. F, I realize that more things are going to change than just my last name. How will marriage affect my current relationships with my friends? Will marriage change how much I see them? How I relate to them? Topics of conversation?

I've seen how other women have changed or reacted to marriage, whether for good or bad. My old best friend seemed to perform a complete 360 after she became a Mrs. All of a sudden, we couldn't relate to each other, she "forgot" what it felt like to be single. On the other end of the spectrum lies one of my oldest friends who remains exactly the way she was before husband and post two babies. What makes some women change and others stay the same? Is this what is supposed to happen after marriage?

 Post college, my circle of girlfriends grew smaller but definitely more meaningful. But sadly once I became more serious with my boyfriend, I was less available for my friends. Before you judge me, hear me out. I have always been and always will be a homebody. I don't like crowds, parties, etc. I have periods of time when I like to go out but this is not all the time. When I was living with my friends,  it was easy to arrange spontaneous outings. When I entered a relationship, I wasn't sitting at home by myself anymore.

Needless to say, I don't hang out with my girlfriends as much anymore for various reasons. But is it supposed to change after marriage?

I used to watch the show Girlfriends religiously and still catch every single rerun on  WE, lol. The married one of the bunch, Mya, was always out with her girls at every bar and club. Some people don't agree that a married woman should be traipsing the streets with her single friends. I went to my best friend's birthday party at a club in November and it was super crowded. Literally, you were dancing with everybody in the club but I had a few aggressive guys dance with me. I didn't like it and I wished my fiance was there instead. I can't imagine being at a club every night, fighting off guys with my single friends. Are we doomed to hang out only at coffee bars now?

As my relationship with my fiance progressed, we started to hang out with other couples more. I love hanging out with other couples and it feels comfortable. I feel like we are on the same level and understand what it takes to be in a committed relationship.

Obviously, I love my friends and cherish them to death. Just because I am getting married does not mean that I can no longer relate to them or hang out with them. I have a small circle of close friends and they are predominatly single but I realize that with marriage will come boundaries and some changes.

I really would like to know from women who are married, how has your relationship with your friends changed or not?

For those who are still single, do you view your married friends differently?

Chere Haiti

As you all already know, a hurricane that rates a 7.0 on the Richter scale has hit my country of Haiti. Until this morning, I refused to watch any news coverage because I couldn't stand to see negative propoganda about Haiti. When I did watching MSNBC this morning, I just found myself getting angrier and angrier.

Since Haiti declared its indepedence in 1804, my people have led a rocky existence. Our natural resources have been exploited by wealthier nations  until we barely had enough to supplement the lives of those that still live there. We are continually stigmatized as the poorest nation in the world, while everyone forgets that we fought tooth and nail to be the first Black independent nation.

Don't be fooled into thinking that this earthquake is the first natural disaster to hit Haiti. Haiti has been tormented by hurricanes as well as other countries, but has been continually ignored.

Growing up, people tried to make me feel embarrassed to be Haitian. They said that HBO stood for Haitian Body odor. They said that AIDs came from Haitians. They said that my parents came to America on a boat.  I refused to be ashamed of my rich heritage then, and I refuse to be ashamed now.

Now they say that Haiti made a pact with the devil to gain its independence. Are you trying to tell me that there is no way that a Black nation could have ever gained indepedence if not with help from the devil? Are you trying to say that our suffering is our fault? When does it end? When does it end?

I just got off the phone with my mother and she said my aunt and cousin who were missing; are safe at home. Thank God! But there are millions more who are desolate, desperately seeking help. One of my close friends has not heard from her mother and I have a thousand stories like that. Where is the compassion for these people? Now is not the time to tell people that we made a pact with the devil or that Haiti is the poorest nation.

All we need to hear is that help is on the way, that are not being ignored. I was so happy to hear President Obama say that Haiti would be a top priority because for too long; Haiti has been ignored and abused.

This has hit too close to home and I realize now with shame that I have been complacent for too long. This could have happened anywhere, to anyone. Please keep my family, other families, and the whole country in your throughts and prayers. This is not a political thing, this is human thing.

If you can donate money, that would be great. If you can donate your time, that would be amazing. Martin Luther King Day is coming up and you will have plenty of opportunities to make a real difference.

Up and Down

My life has been a rollercoaster lately; so many questions hanging over my head. I officially finished my Masters degree coursework in early December and was supposed to get things in motion to get my temporay license so that I could finally work as an Occupational Therapist.

Here is some background information on me. I was originally enrolled in one occupational therapy program and I was dismissed because of not following their academic standards. I wish I could say that I was dismissed because I had failing grades but that was not the case. I had three B- and one C. Anyways I transferred to my new school and have been happy ever since. Due to that minor setback, I have been sort of superstitious about my academic success. I am the type of person that is always waiting for the other shoe to drop. After almost three years it finally did.

I called my advisor and wanted to make sure there weren't any surprises impeding my upcoming graduation. Turns out they never had a record of my transferred credits. So I went to the old school and filled out a transfer form. Easy right? Puh-leeze honey.

I received a phone call a day later stating that there was a financial hold on my account. They were charging me for classes that I supposedly took even though I was dismissed. So I had to call all these people to find out how the hell I could fix this in two weeks. Mind you, this was a week before Christmas and my diploma date was Jan 8th.

This is already getting too long. My advisor called me this  morning and was like, you need to get those transcripts today otherwise...

F My life right? They finally get it sorted out and then my advisor calls me back and it turns out when I applied to my new school, my application had included my old transcript. My head is still spinning.

I'm still cautious about this but your girl has finished her coursework for her Masters of Occupational Therapy. Once I have the diploma in my hand, then we can celebrate. So for those who saw my facebook status today; this is the story behind it.

Oh and they fixed the financial hold. Good thing cuz I do not have $6,000 to shell out to anybody.

Smooches ladies!!

My Kind of Christmas

Its Christmas Eve and I have had this gnawing knot in my stomach all day long. As time passes, it brings me closer and closer to going home to NY to spend Christmas with my parents and siblings. Some of you may remember from past posts, that I hate going home. My father knows how to push all the right buttons and make me feel like shit. Now that I am in the midst of wedding planning, I can only imagine what terrors he has planned for me.

But all I can do in the meantime is focus on the here and now. My fiance went to work for a halfday and now he is here with me. We plan to cook up a storm, stuff ourselves, and watch movies. Spending time with him calms me and I am so grateful for these precious moments. I hope to hold the good memories close to my heart and not let my heart harden with all of the bad.

I know I haven't been on PNN  much this year but I have been keeping a close eye on many of you via facebook. Thank you all for the encouraging words that brought smiles to my face time after time. Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, just have a good time. See you all in 2010!!

Babysitter Chronicles

On my commute home from "work", I caught a glimpse of my seat mate's hands and they teleported me back in time...

Growing up, I was a latchkey kid but I did have my fair share of babysitters. Not sure if the high turnover rate was attributed to my dictator father or to the "bad ass" Charles kids. Whatever the reason, we went through babysitters like water.

The first babysitter we had was a relatively young girl, I believe around eighteen. She was sitting in the living room with my father and he was going over the usual rules with her. No guests over, have the kids in bed by nine, no television on a school night, blah blah blah.

Not five minutes after my father left to go to work, this heffa snuck her boyfriend in. The details are hazy but I remember him walking out of the bathroom in his boxers. My sister, brother, and I were on our stomachs on the floor in front of my parents' bedroom. He was on top of her so we had a clear view of his ass. I don't remember how old I was, but I sure as hell did not understand what I was seeing. But I knew enough not to bring it up to my parents. I had this feeling, even at such a young age, that it might be an awkward conversation.

The next series of babysitters were sisters and very religious. They prayed with us before we went to sleep and taught us how to sing hymns. But they soon left us because they decided that they wanted to go to college. Oh well.

The last babysitter we had, occurred when I was too old to actually need one but it worked out because it gave me freedom to attend afterschool progams without having to be home with my siblings. I was a big and bad middle schooler by this time.

She had a big part in helping to shape my young life. She helped me to count fluently in French through the use of games. She taught me to sing hymns that I still sing today. And she made us memorize verses that really came in handy during our tumultous lives. She also ridiculed my cello playing, yelled at us, ate flour out of the bag, and made me crack her fingers and touch her ashy cracked feet. Sigh.

When I was a sophmore in college, I received the call that she was dead and I didn't cry. I guess I was in shock because for as long as I can remember Seour Bertha had been a part of my life, whether for good or bad. At her funeral, my mother wanted us to give a speech and throw flowers on her grave. But my siblings and I sobbed through the entire funeral. It was like our own grandmother had passed away, in fact she was our adopted grandmother. It was the first time that someone connected to us had actually died.

Looking at that woman's hands on the bus next to me, reminded me of her hands. I hadn't thought of her in years.

RIP Seour Bertha. You are always in our hearts.

Where did All the Men Go?

My fiance and I were talking about how many of my friends are single even though they are amazing, intelligent, interesting, and beautiful women.

He really could not fathom how none of them had any male prospects on their dating horizon.

"Its the city." I declared. "Philly is not the right place to meet men."

I'm sorry for all you Philly lovers but I'm just calling it like I see it. I live and breathe in Center City and it is hard for Black women to meet men who are on their level and...to simply put it...not crazy. I'm only speaking for Black women so...let me know what you think about other women, I'd be interested to know.

My fiance and I decided to start looking at all the men in our neighborhood to see if my friends were just being overly picky. We've been doing this for the past two days and we have found only..ahem...four guys that we thought were acceptable. How many people live in Philadelphia? Right.

Maybe we're being too picky, maybe not. But one thing we also did realize that in our circle of friends, in every couple that we know, one of the significant others were not from Philadelphia. These happily married or together couples had to look for love elsewhere. So, does this mean that I should suggest for my friends to start looking for love outside of Philly? I don't know, I'm not a relationship expert.

This just makes me appreciate my fiance even more. Dating is hard work.

Family Drama

This is the second time I am writing this by the way. PNN is messing with my posts.

A few weeks ago, my sister called telling me that my mom was going to the doctor because she has been having headaches a lot. She had a shunt placed in her head two months after I was born and I suspected that this was causing her the headaches.

The next day, my sister called and informed me that my mother was in the ER waiting for tests to be done. I was in the middle of my rotation and I assumed that all would be well.

I called again and she was still there but the doctors were not revealing anything. As much as I wanted to rush home and be with my family, all I could think about was that I had two weeks left inmy rotation. I was reluctant to take days off and make them up, but family is family.

I waited another day and left Sat morning because they were supposed to release her Fri night. Sat came and she was still in the hospital. When my fiance and I arrived, I knew something was wrong neurologically. This person was not my mother at all. She was confused and kept repeating questions. She had no balance and had to be physically escorted to the bathroom. Her short term memory was gone and she could not look up without physically lifting her head.

To make matters worse, my father was being his usual difficult self. He was refusing to have them operate until they found her old records from 25 years ago. Mind you, records can be thrown out after 6 years legally. She had the first surgery done at the present hopital and the revisions done at another hospital, but none of the records were available.

He refused to listen to the doctors or anyone else. It was the worst feeling to watch your mother in the hospital bed while trying to reason with someone who was acting like an irate five year old.

Shit really hit the fan when dude tried to come at me for wearing jeans with a ripped knee. I wanted to yell and scream at him. The same day that my mom was waiting to find out if her husband would give her consent to have a surgery that she needed, he was worried about my fashion choices.

To make a long story short, he let her have the surgery and she is doing much better. She is home now and I came home after my rotations were over to help her out at home and show her my OT skill.s

But needless to say, I lost a lot of respect for my father. You can rip into my clothing choices or call me names but NEVER NEVER mess with my mother.

Shutting Down

I deal with things differently. I never know how I'm going to react to a situation. Being in a relationship can be very difficult at times. Constantly having to compromise and getting into fights over the most mundane details of absurdity. Its exhausting sometimes.

I know that I'm a very moody person and can be passive aggressive at times. I try not to be but I can be childish that way.

We had a staff retreat today and as the OT intern, I was forced to tag along. I can't complain though, it was a lot of fun. I attempted rock climbing, the human gyro, paddle boating, and eating lots of yummy food mainly funnel cake.

Anyways I came home happy but tired. It was a long week and I made a little dinner for me and the honey. He came home also in a great mood and...

I can be very particular about where things go. In my head, certain things have their place and there is no flexibility. Unfortunately, my fiance is not as particular as I am, so you can imagine how this unfolds sometimes.

Long story short, I walked into the kitchen and his sneakers were sitting there. It annoys me everytime I see it and no matter how many times I say something about it, they find themselves there. Maybe the sneakers are haunting me. Maybe its my OC. I picked them up gingerly and threw them in the room, shooting daggers at him at the same time.

I went into full BITCH mode and ripped into him about other things. We got in a huge fight and I shut down.

I've done it before and I will do it again...I went to my room and proceeded to lie down for a long time. I wanted to be alone, I didn't want to talk, I didn't even want to be awake. My bed has always been my safe place.

Its interesting because my fiance was there the whole time with me, which was kind of comforting in a way. He knew I was shutting down but he let me come back on my own. He didn't force me to talk or anything and I appreciated that. Eventually I got up and rejoined the world.

Not really sure if this is healthy but I've done this in the past as my way to deal with my parents and other stressful situations.

When I work up this morning, I definitely didn't see this coming.

Oh Nostalgia

Now that I'm a "career woman" now (giggles), I really  miss some of the things that I used to do when all I had to do was attend classes.

For the record, I love Housewives of Wherever and I watch it religiously. It took me almost two weeks to watch the reunion show (currently watching now). I know thats not important to you but I'm so busy now, its disconcerting.

I miss the days when I could sleep in on the weekends and chillax.

I kinda sorta even miss school. Being an adult is exhausting.

I miss being able to stay up until 4am and still be somewhat productive the next day. I've stayed up the past two days to complete schoolwork and was yawning all day. Not a good look.

I really miss the days when I didn't have to plan for a wedding. BTW, I've done nothing in like a month, its really bad.

I miss wearing jeans to class. Don't get me wrong, I love dressing up for work especially since in my next placement, I will probably only be allowed to wear scrubs. Sometimes I just want to wear my jeans...

I'm really going to miss summer and winter break. I don't know how people do it. Everyone should get summer, spring, and winter break. Its just the right thing to do.

I'm going to miss my student status. The other day I went to UPS and because I had my student ID, it didn't matter that I didn't have ID to verify my new address. Yay!

I also miss the days when I could send a quick email or text my classmates to say that I wasn't coming to class. Apparantly its a really big deal to call out of work now! Sucks!

Hello adulthood!

What do you miss?

Loss

Losing someone is something that we can't avoid no matter how hard we may try. It doesn't matter how far back in your mind you push the thought, the reality is; we will all die someday. Of course, its super hard on those who are left behind trying to hold it down while the memories of times past fill our minds and hearts.

I think about what I would do if I lost my fiance everyday and everyday I come to the conclusion that I simply could not bear it. Yes, I would live on but it would be so hard to be without someone who had been such a significant part of my life.

I know that two entertainment icons died and while I hope they may RIP, this post is not about them. I loved Michael Jackson's music and always will. But I never knew him personally and the news of his death did not hit me as hard as someone else's did.

Earlier this week, my cousin who got married last month delivered her first son at five months. He weighed one pound. He fought to the end but passed away. His funeral was yesterday and though I never knew him personally, my heart is heavy for my cousin and her husband.

It must be so difficult to know someone for such a short time and lose them so quickly. Its amazing how quickly your heart can be attached to someone and then they are gone.

This post is for my cousin and I hope that she finds healing, comfort, and peace during this time.

She's Losing Something...

Everything feels different to me now. For the past couple of weeks I have been trying to "catch up" on my PNN reading. Unfortunately I missed out on a few that were most likely amazing. And I feel a different energy on PNN. I'm sad that DB is going through her trials and I don't feel as connected to everybody for some reason.

Hopefully its just this weird time in which I am transitioning from a student into a pseudo adult and all the demands that entails. I'm sure you ladies are just as fabulous and amazing as you always were.

I miss you guys even though you are all right here.

I don't think its a good thing that my rotation placement was in mental health. I'm taking on the characteristics of my patients. All I want to do is sleep all the time. I should convince Hipchick to come and work out with me. I need some motivation.

Something weird happened the other day...I was talking to my fiance but I was drifting in and out of sleep. In my half sleep mode, there was a group of people in my head. A woman in a red dress jumped off the bridge. I woke up, turned to my fiance and said, "The woman in my head killed herself."

Are you inching away from me? I don't blame you. Just wanted to let you guys know where my head was at right now.

PNN Ladies in the Flesh...

So I've been super busy or something lately and haven't had the opportunity to post anything. I looked in my inbox and literally it said, I had two hundred and fifty emails and 98% were from PNN.

The last weekend of May, my fiance and I went to AC to celebrate the fact that I was leaving my role as a student and beginning my stage as an indentured servant for the next six months. I thought slavery was over, but apparantly they now call it, Fieldwork or rotations. Thats right, 40 hour work week and no pay. Did I mention I was not working?

Anyways, I got sick and dehydrated by the time we left lovely AC that Sunday. Monday morning I had to report for my first day of "work". I was sick as a dog, sneezing all over the place, a tissue permanently jammed up my nose. Great first impression, huh? Of course the woman refused to let me leave so I stayed for eight hours, barely alive.

The morning of Philly Phreak arrived and I was so freaking excited to go, except my body didn't get the memo. A couple hours before I was supposed to leave to meet the ladies, I felt really sick. So I called Motherofmany and told her to expect me later.

I wasn't really sure if I was going to come because I'm a big ass baby when I'm sick but this was a once in a lifetime experience. I had to meet my PNN ladies, hell or high water.

I wasn't nervous to meet the ladies because I felt like I knew them already. The only thing missing in my mind, was what they actually looked like. First off, I was greeted by bodies plastered on the huge window wall of the hotel bar. Yes, I saw Hipchick and Kimber's boobs before anything else. Then I got lost in the lobby because I had no idea where I was going so Motherofmany had to come find me.

First impressions: Motherofmany just exuded of some motherly quality so that hugging her felt as natural as if I had known her half my life. She was so cute and small, I didn't know she was that little. I saw Hipchick's shoes before I saw her and I knew right then who she was. She looks exactly like I pictured she would look from reading her posts. She has a girlie voice and it sounds weird with cuss words coming out of it. I pictured Comic with short hair and a short lady with a feisty personality. She's taller and has long hair. I had no idea who Kimber and Writing were. I wasn't sure...I was expecting to see Frida Kahlu so I was disoriented. I think Writing said this first, Kimber does not look like a corporate attorney at first glance but I'm sure she kicks ass. Writing is just like her posts, full of a crazy amount of information! Yo, I learned so much, its not even funny. The Banana was no brainer, I saw her Youtube video...That girl is out  of control, just like her posts. It was a pleasure to connect with Leigh even if she was frozen for most of the conversation. Doesn't she kind of look like the boss from Devil Wears Prada? But soo much nicer obviously...

Memorable moments: Escorting Kimber to her car. Why the hell was there an empty car with all the doors open on the roof? Thats Philly for you...Hipchick's Asian lovah...or wannabe lovah...Kimber dancing the Electric Slide...That damn feather boa was shedding everywhere, even in my pants! Banana, you're not a lesbian, I'm sorry. Thank you for the teddy bear and the flowers Motherofmany! I'll think of you whenever I see them. Comic randomly taking pictures of people when they were not ready... Where are those pictures by the way? Writing's crazy stories about her family and who knew such a lil thang was so tough , you go girl...our watiress Candy...she was too fun...

I had an amazing time and I am so glad I dragged my sick self across town. I hope none of you come down with anything and if you do, think of it as a reminder of me in a sick freaky way. I hope to see those who live closer to me a little more often. You guys are my friends even though I can't remember your real names.

I feel better now except for this cough...

Weekend Home Recap

So I'm safe and sound in Philly, I survived my weekend home.

The highlight of my whole trip was when I visited my cousin's ex wife. I haven't seen her in some time and it was so good to sit and chillax with her. Its funny how different things look when you are older, because we never got along that well when I was living at home. Half of the time, I didn't even think she liked me. Come to find out she is proud of me. Wow.

I saw a lot of people that I haven't seen in such a long time and it really felt like a homecoming. I didn't realize there were so many people who were so proud of me and rooting for me (at least until I fall). It makes me nervous because when people place you on a pedestal, you can obviously fall. These people still see me as the little girl who lived at home and aimed to please everybody. I still have her inside of me but I'm trying to get her the hell out. I can't live for others, its my life. Easier said than done.

But it feels so good to be back home to own place, my fiance, and  my girls on PNN.

My Safe Haven

When I vist my parents, my room is my safe haven. I typically hide out until my father goes to work. Its my defense mechanism for keeping the peace. That's where I am right now, typing away. I also plan to stay out of the house as much as possible which is tricky because they only have one car now. Hence, I have to take a car ride with both of my parents to drop them off at their respective jobs. I really don't want to. I'd rather not except since I'm the Prodigal Daughter I have a lot of people to visit with or else its off with my head.

My fiance has also been my safe haven which is probably why its so hard to come home without him. When he's here, he's my protector. No one can touch me except for that one time when he fell asleep and I was verbally attacked about the wedding. So thats my anxiety level. We're a strange bunch, its easier to stay away. I'm literally counting down the minutes until my dad goes to work so that I can relax outside of my room. I notice my brother and sister do the same thing.

Weirdos.

Reunited?

So I traveled to NY yesterday to visit the family for a few days. Its the first time I've been home without my fiance in tow and I miss him terribly. I hate traveling and Greyhound was positively horrid yesterday. The workers are so ghetto and the bus patrons were so freaking annoying. I just needed one match to burn the whole place down.

I got to my parents' house and my ex-best friend called and wanted to hang out. Apparantly she had run into my mother earlier and was told that the Prodigal daughter was coming to town. I agreed to hang out somewhat apprehensively. See my previous post on An Old Friend Come Back Again

(Did you see that? I did my first link, thanks Ris!)

Anyways, she came to pick me up and we went to Fridays at the mall because she really wanted to get a drink. We kinda fell back into our old routine more or less. I was more on the cautious end because I was feeling her out and wondering when she was going to break into the "why did we stop being friends" conversation. It never did come up but the pink elephant weighed heavily on my mind throughout the day. We talked about everything; my fiance and upcoming wedding, her marriage and two kids, etc, etc.

She is different though, at least I think so. She used to be so much  more fashionable in our heyday. She didn't seem as much yesterday but then again she did just have a baby. (She looked great by the way for someone who just gave birth).

We were in Burlington Coat factory and she did something that surprised and annoyed the hell out of me. The mall closes around nine thirty and we walked into Burlington around 9:25 because she wanted to see the shoes (they have really really cute shoes). In the middle of our persual, they announced that the store was closed. This one was still trying on shoes and then she asked the sales associate how much it was because it was missing a price tag. I don't know...I used to work at Macys and I hated it when customers walked in super late and then wanted to be waited on. We're closed, dammit! That really annoyed me and struck me as selfish...But whatever.

The whole day was cool, I felt comfortable around her. I could not shake the feeling that I wanted to ask her to be in my wedding party. Not really because I want her to but because I still feel guility that I was maid of honor at hers. But I'm not gonna do that. We need to move slowly and not rush into things. Yesterday was fun, lets see what happens tomorrow. She wants me to come to the wake with her. I hate wakes.

I'm sorry if this sounded random, I can't think properly in my parents' house.

When I Grow Up

I'm  pretty sure I'm twenty five. Yep, my birth certificate says that I am. Somedays I don't feel like it. I feel like a grown ass woman with my fiance and friends. But when I'm around my parents, I feel like a little kid again. All of a sudden I can't make my own decisions and whatnot. They always want to know what I'm doing, where I'm going, etc, etc.

Isn't the whole point of growing up to allow yourself to make your own decisions regardless if they are good or not? We live and learn from our experiences, correct? And just because what I choose to do may be drastically different from what you did, doesn't mean its wrong. It may be right for me or not. But I have to make that distinction.

I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop, I guess. I would like to make a decision regardless of my parents' reaction to it. Is this wrong of me? I'm not that little good girl anymore. I'm a grown up according to society!

I can't make my parents happy all the time because it seems to me that when I'm happy, they're not and vice versa. I envy my fiance's relationship with his parents. He was not always the golden boy he is today. He used to go at it with his mother. He went to college when he was 16 and understandably he wanted to act like the rest of his his college classmates. But they were 18 and older. But today he is a well adjusted adult and he has a very honest relationship with his mother. She doesn't agree with everything that he does, but she lets him make his own choices.

Can I make my own choices? I make my  own choices, they just don't know anything about it. Its like I'm living a double life.  I feel like the teenage girl who has to sneak in and out of her house just to go to her best friend's unsupervised party.

I just needed to vent. I just want to grow up but still have the respect of my parents at every step. Is that asking for too much? Blah.

Here Comes the...What?

I had the weirdest dream last night. My family, my fiance, and I were traveling on a Coach bus across the country. I have no idea where we were going but we rented out the whole bus. Several quickie marriages were being conducted on this bus, mine was one of them.

I was in the hotel getting ready for my wedding with my fiance right next to me. We were getting dressed together and I was pissed for a few reasons.

1) Neither my mom, my sister, or my bridesmaids were helping me get ready at all. It was my special day and no one was helping me.
2) Where was my makeup artist or my hair dresser? What was going on with my hair?

We finally got ready and I walked down the aisle first. Get this, I was waiting for my fiance to come to me. Does that even sound accurate? It was too weird.

Then I had a dream that we were in some cult for couples.

I have no idea what these dreams mean and I am a little scared to find out.

For the Love of Good Tofu

For Mothers Day, my fiance and I took his mother to a Jamaican restaurant on her lunch break. I'm very familiar with Jamaican cuisine as it is very close to Haitian food. But that day, I fell in love all over again. The food was making love to my mouth. (Now who does that sound like?)

My mom-in-law ordered a vegetarian dish. I noticed on the menu that it said the meat used is not real, its tofu. When our food came, she got a call from her other son who also came to the hospital to see her. She stepped out for few minutes and my fiance ( I had nothing to do with it!) stole some of her "meat" to taste. He popped a piece in my mouth and I almost died. From pleasure. This tofu stuff was freaking amazing. It was perfectly seasoned and it just...omigosh...oh lawd...It was soo good.

We flagged down the waitress three times. First it was me; demanding that she tell me that it was really meat. Then my fiance, and then his mom after she tasted it.  Next time I go, I'm ordering tofu. If I could get tofu to taste like that at home, I might turn vegetarian.

Side note: I was about to read Mn. Risley's post on Flinging in the Rain, when I read the sentence about fried tofu and the memory smacked me in the head. OK, back to Mn.'s post. This would be a perfect opportunity to send a link to her page, but I have no idea how to do that. Someone please tell me, please!

Can I Be Real With You?

When I saw that ad in craiglist about being a relationship Blogger, I immediately jumped at the opportunity. Lets forget the fact that I am no expert on relationships. I've been in very few serious relationships. Translation: the one that I am currently in is the serious-iest relationship I have ever and only been in.

Anyways in my haste, of course I emailed all my close friends and family because I wanted them to vote for me and etc. Sometimes I regret that. Little did I know how much being on PNN would affect me. I had no idea that I was joining a whole family of people who are continually supporting each other despite our differences. I had no idea I would in the midst of some amazing women who can write like butter. Literally, their words drip off the page and I just soak it all up.

I didn't realize how therapeutic writing would be for me. Or how therapeutic reading other people's posts would be. Here is my dilemma, how can I truly allow myself to be as transparent as I want to be? I love my friends who read this and they are by no means judgemental, but I'm not the same person they used to know. I've grown up. I feel like I am in a box in their eyes, they know me the way I used to be...  My parents don't really know who I am or what I love. I'm used to hiding myself so being on PNN makes me want to come out!

I remember in church there would always be time for testimonials, where people would say what happened in their life, regarding mistakes or whatnot. I was never that type of person, I am private and struggle in silence.

Maybe I have this way that I expect people to see me and I may be reluctant to change that. I'm not perfect but I am not ready to expose all of my faults. I admire all the women on here for being vulnerable and transparent and I hope to let go one day.

At the end of the day all that matters is how I feel when I look in the mirror. Because all of these flaws make me who I am today. And I must say, I am pretty damn happy with myself. For the first time I am truly happy with my life.

I love you guys!

Remembering Those We Lost...

Last year one of my classmates died of cancer. He left behind a wife and kids. Though we didn't keep in touch after high school, I remember him well. He had the biggest smile and was one of the friendliest people around. He used to tease me mercilessly in elementary school and I had the hugest crush on him. He was also one of our star football players and seemed to have a real future ahead of him. He was my age, around 23 or 24.

Last month, his older brother died. His ex girlfriend is one of my good friends and she called me with the news; he committed suicide by jumping in front of a tractor trailer. I did not know him well, I only saw him in the hallways and from the bleachers while he was playing football.

Six months ago, a young man that attended my college drowned. He was the editor of the school newspaper and we had the same friends, although not friends ourselves. He was 24 years old.

Three months ago, another one of my college classmates died in a fiery car accident here in Philly. I remember how he used to manuver around campus on his skateboard. He was one of the friendliest people I had ever met, always greeting me with a smile. He was 22 or 23 years old.

Today, both my best friend and my sister called to tell me that a young man that attended my old home church finally succombed in his battle with pancreatic cancer. I did not know him well either, but I remember seeing him around church growing up. He started out very quiet and in the background and turned into a very involved member of the youth community. He was 27 years old.

I am not sure what words to pick to descibe how I am feeling. I did not know many of these people that well but it still affects me profoundly. I feel as if too many young people are leaving this world, too soon. They were not done leaving their mark on this world or carrying out their dreams. They left behind friends and family that loved them. No one ever thinks that they may not live to see another day. I wonder if they accomplished half of the things that they wanted, or said all of the things that were in their heart.

Seeing the death of all these young people makes me want to live each day with a renewed vigor. I hope that I live to walk in my graduation or walk down the aisle to get married. I hope to see my child take his first walk, write my first novel, buy my first house, or even go on vacation in a couple of weeks. But who ever really knows what the future holds or how long it will afford us? But all we can do is live each day as if it were our last and have no regrets because life is truly too short.

My Cousin-Sisters

I grew up with three older sisters and two younger siblings. Biologically I was the oldest of three, but my three older female cousins helped to raise my siblings and I. They weren't that much older than us, but they were so cool in our eyes. I believe this is the resason why I don't act like a typical Firstborn, I never really had to be one.

There was the eldest sister who got her license at sixteen and drove us around everywhere. I remember the five of us, plus a couple of their friends, shoved into her old blue Toyota like sardines on our way to the mall. She was also the responsible one, who helped us with our homework, took us to our doctor appointments, and made sure to bring us back home right before my father was due home from work.

Then there was the middle sister who was most like me. She was studious and a voracious reader. I was always in her room picking out the next thing to read that weekend. She also had the coolest and most consistent group of friends that I wanted to be mine. She was the most afrocentric and I envied her style.

Last there was the baby sister who was the life of the party. I remember her nineties fly gear like it was yesterday, she used to rock the oversize jerseys and baggy pants like it was her job! She was the biggest tomboy but always had a gaggle of male admirers around. She was tough, spunky, temperamental, and very outgoing.

It was at their house that I did most of my growing up. As we were raised in a very conservative Christian family, it was there that I attended my first parties that were not associated with the church. I learned to dance under their watchful eyes, because I was forbidden to dance at home. I had the opportunity to experiment with nail polish and make-up that had to be removed right before I went home on Sunday nights. I spent countless hours getting my hair permed or braided up between the knees of one of my cousin-sisters. I raided their closets so that I could attend school on Mondays looking extra cute with a new top.

It was also at their house that I had my first near encounter with the opposite sex. I almost had my first kiss with him, but we were interupted by one of my cousin-sisters. Their home was a stark contrast to the quiet, reserved, and sometimes prisonlike atmosphere of my own home. Laughter rang throughout their home with no repurcussions. I felt at ease and safe in that house.

It was also at their house that I first learned about the ugliness of divorce between parents, the controversy of premarital sex, and broken hearts. I've seen men come and go, with their broken promises in tow.

I don't see them as much anymore, as I now live in another state and do not come home often. Everyone is busy with their own lives and there are more of us running around now. The youngest sister is getting married on Friday and expecting a baby. Things will change but I'm sure that some things will always stay the same.

 I take comfort in the fact that no matter how long I've been away, I can always go to my cousins' house, sit on their bed, and raid their closets, just like old times.

Almost at the Finish

I don't know if you've noticed, but I have been MIA for a while. Unfortunately I had to forgo PNN to concentrate on my finals the last few weeks. Not being on PNN was the second most hardest thing I every had to do. You should see my inbox, I have over sixty emails just from PNN! The comments are coming, albeit a tad late.

I feel like I've been awake for a straight year and a half. If I never write another paper or take another exam, I will die happy. But I'm done, I'm really done! This was my last scholastic semester and I will start my rotations in June. This day seemed so far away and yet here it is.

No longer will I simply be an occupational therapy student. I will be in charge of patients and will be responsible for their progress. I don't know if I'm ready for that, but I welcome the change.

I know a day into my rotations I will miss being a student. My classmates were so amazing, I always felt like I was hanging out all day long. I didn't have to go to work and I could always use the "I'm a student and I have a lot of schoolwork" excuse to get out doing things.

I don't know if I'm ready for the world of 9-5, but we shall see. I'm sure I will get losts of interesting posts out of rotation experiences.

But today I celebrate my month of freedom. I'm going to read, relish, and relax. Feel free to send me any great book suggestions. I should get a Strawberry daquiri or something...

The Praying Woman

I grew up on the power of prayer. My mother insisted on praying for us for every occasion and instilled in us the importance of praying before leaving the house. It got to the point that I wouldn't even drive my car without praying, lest I get in a car accident. When I was younger, prayer was an important part of life and the one thing that I followed faithfully. It relaxed me, calmed me, and gave me a sense of power and hope. It was an innocent reflection time and the most honest conversation I had ever had with anyone. It was the only time I could truly be me with no fear for judgement.

When I began attending my Christian college, I began to see different forms of prayer and worship that I was not used to. Prayer seemed to take on a more art form; where louder and more dramatic was the norm. I saw people gyrate and shake seemingly with the Holy Spirit. Suddenly my simple method seemed inadequate and not Christian enough.

My prayers took on a new quest where rather on focusing on my conversation, I was caught up in pursuing something else. I was no longer content to just talk, I wanted to have an experience like others. I felt as if I was missing out on a certain emotion and began to be frustrated, rather than calmed by prayer.

Today I watched my fiance go to work and I prayed for him. It felt simple, pure, and honest. It felt like home; without the pretentious outward layer.

The Truth and Nothing But...

I have lived a life surrounded by people who hesitate to tell me the truth. When I look back at some pictures from over the years, I am shocked by what I see. Why did no one think to tell me that I looked like such a loser? For instance, my childhood hairdresser...She gave me my perm and many of the styles that I had in my high school years. I went to get my hair done before picture day in the eleventh grade. I thought my hair was great until I saw the pictures. Would you believe that she chopped off half of my bangs and they were uneven? I still can't look at that picture. To make matters worse, I was walking down the halls of school thinking I was so cute with my new bangs. (Another point would be why did I not notice this myself, but thats not relevant right now).

I have had times when I asked female acquaintances for advice and I know when they are not telling the truth because I get the blank face and the quick answer that is too vague to really answer my question. When I was younger I agonized over these moments because I really needed validation from other people on how I looked. Or how about the time I walked around school with a stain on the back of my skirt from sitting in gum somewhere and it wasn't until 8th period that someone helpfully pointed it out? Right.

Now that I am older, wiser, and have a better sense of my style fashionwise, I am not dependent on others for their opinion. But I still like to get honest reactions sometimes if I am unsure about something. My fiance happens to be the most truthful person I know so I always ask him. Today I had a pinning ceremony/brunch for school and I had no idea what to wear. I really wanted to wear a dress but I don't have that many and my body is in some awkward phase where it is changing due to all my workouts, so sometimes I feel weird in my current wardrobe selection.

I tried on one dress that I haven't worn in years and asked my fiance what he thought. I barely got the words out of my mouth before he shook his head and told me, "It looks like a housedress!"

I know, I asked him for his honest opinion. But damn, a housedress? That pissed me off. I tried on a second dress and then a third and refused to make eye contact with him. To this he promptly responded, "That is the best out of everything you had on." Excuse me? Did I ask you? 

At this point, I am frustrated beyond words because I have quickly exhausted my dress options. I dig deeper into my closet and pull out a dress I haven't worn in years. I try it on with no hope that it will actually fit my body, lo and behold it actually looks good! I look sophisticated and ready for spring, exactly the look I was going for. My fiance is in the background giving me a thumbs up and smiling. I'm still a little mad but its now mixed with appreciation. Of course my mood changes instantly when I realize I have the most perfect shoes to go with the dress that magically reappeared back in my life.

So...I guess the lesson is that I am glad that I have such a truthful person in my life; who actually tells me things regardless if I want to hear them or not. He isn't scared of my anger, nor does he care. I asked him for the truth and that is precisely what I got. Sometimes its appreciated and sometimes its not...at all. Thanks boo for not letting me look like a grown ass ten year old girl in her Easter dress (not housedress).

Has anyone else had any run-ins with untruthful people that caused you some degree of embarrassment?

Correction: I was in ninth grade (not tenth) when the picture incident happened. To answer Mssantos' question this occurred in '99-00.

A Serving Spirit

My independent study is with Rebuilding Together Philadelphia this semester. We go into older adults' homes and make any modifications necessary to make it safer and accessible.

Today was the day that we completed any home modifications needed. We got these really cool t-shirts and I was excited. The morning started off horribly. I woke up smiling to the sun shining in my face until I realized that I only had about forty five minutes to get showered and dressed before I missed the bus. My car has been acting up these past few weeks and I'm actually scared to drive for fear it will break down on the expressway. I finally made it to the bus stop to catch the 8:49 only to realize it was 8:51. I was convinced that I missed the bus. After frantically calling my fiance, we realized I had the bus schedule wrong; it was coming at 9:05.

9:05..9:10...9:19...Where the hell is the damn bus? I have to be at school by 10 and you just never how traffic will be. On top of this, only one of my earphones is working on my MP3 player, so all the sound is hitting one eardrum. On top of that, I'm starving because I rushed out of my damn apartment without grabbing anything. The bus finally rolls in around 9:30 something and off we went.

I'm pissed on the bus but I pray that God give me a spirit of servitude so that I can give off a humble  and giving spirit to the homeowers today.  

2 hours go by and we have painted his basement steps, installed a new shelving system, installed a CO detector, new portable phones, secured the loose carpets in the house. I also spent a good deal of time showing the homeowner how to get in and out of his tub safely by using the newly installed grab bars, shower chair, and tub bench.

The highlight of my day was when he walked into the bathroom and his face lit up at the sight of his new bathroom equipment. He was like a kid on Christmas. He kept thanking us and it really warmed my heart. It almost made sweeping up mouse droppings worthwhile. Almost. 

Of course getting home on the bus was a pain in my ass as it was late AGAIN...By the time it finally came, it was so full I was standing buttcheek to buttcheck with the guy next to me. I had a raging headache when I finally got home. It may have been caused by the lack of food in my system...but I was able to help make a difference in someone's life. I did something meaningful and it felt good.

Living Your Dreams is the New Black

Yesterday I participated in my first sprinting event. I have been training for a couple months now and I came in third place. I'm not estatic that I came in third but I am pleased with my performance. It gave me such a thrill and my classmates were shocked as they did not know I was that fast. My favorite part was my cheering section: my fiance/trainer.

The aspect that really makes me happy is that I remember so clearly the little girl I used to be. I wish I could reach back  in time and just guide her and talk to her for a few minutes. She was so lost, had low self esteem, and was so timid. She wasn't raised in an environment where it was ok for her to voice her opinion or let her concerns be known. All she knew was how to hide in the background and not cause any waves. She was tall, gangly and didn't know her own athletic prowess. In fact she failed gym in the eighth grade.

I think back on my victory yesterday and I am so happy that I made one of my dreams come true. I told my brother about it and he laughed in disbelief. I wasn't offended because thats the type of person I was back in the day.

I encourage you to follow your dreams no matter how silly or small they may seem. Life is too short to live out other people's expectations of you. So I'm going to pick up my sneakers in search for my next quest and I hope you do the same.

The Music Around Me

I'm sitting in a coffeeshop across from my silly ass fiance and I am here presumably to do work and ahem...PNN. Turns out this particular evening, we are to be serenaded by local musicians. The first couple that came on were to say the least...interesting.  I've written them off and am concentrating on the posts taht I follow on PNN.

A sweet female voice wafts in the air and it literally makes my head turn. I don't know what she's selling but I want to buy it. I'm thinking that this is  actually good writing music. Suddenly the coffeeshop has been transformed into a hammock swaying in the light breeze and the smell of flowers fill my nose, as I doze off.

What is it about music that can speak to our soul in an instant? I have always loved music and noticed how quickly it can affect my mood. Its funny because when I'm angry, I choose loud pulsating beats that excite my senses and help fuel my anger more. This is useful for the days when I am tackling the treadmill demon. The treadmill becomes my enemy and I can't stop until I pummel it to death with my sneakers and sweat.

I remember from my younger days when we were preached against listening to certain music, babymaking music, as it would cause us to lust and sin. Those were the songs that I dreamed up my Mr. Right and how he would look, feel, talk, and etc. Of course, now that I have my real life Mr. Right, those same songs still serve a purpose; albeit a different one than my schoolgirl days.

And there are the songs that can positively bring a tear to my eye or a tremble to my lips. These are the songs that I picture myself walking down the aisle on my wedding day or just picture different sentimental moments in my life.

I used to play the cello and would spend hours in my room just playing. It would serve as a sounding board for my emotions on those  moody teenage years. Playing music made me feel as if I belonged in a community where our only job was to bring pleasure to the ears of others.

Ahh, music. What kind of music do you like and why?

The Yes Man or Woman

I used to be the "Yes man". No, I haven't seen the movie, so I don't know if we are talking about the same thing.

I'm a nice person and I used to be nice to a fault. I would do things in the name of helping others, just to make them happy. I prided myself on being a good friend and I would do ridiculous things to keep that title.
Last year, my old roommate got married and asked me to be her bridesmaid. I said yes even though I was a broke college student who could barely afford the dress. Getting the dress wasn't even the problem. The problem arose on her wedding day. The wedding site was in the Poconos which was like 5 hours away from where we lived. I was not told this at the time that the invitation to be in her wedding was extended. Had I known this, I would've regretfully declined. (At the time I thought I was soo essential to the wedding, but in reality, it was easier to choose me than one of her other friends). At the time I didn't have a car and I had no idea how I was getting to the wedding, as the other bridesmaid lived an hour away and the MOH had no car either. Luckily the bride gave us a ride up to the Poconos, so that worked out great.

Around the time of her wedding, I was ridiculously broke. It was rent time and I was always barely making payment. Did I mention that I was paying the rent to her? We got to the Poconos and I asked about lunch because I was STARVING. I'm always starving but thats not the point. Turns out we had to provide lunch for ourselves, something else that I wasn't informed of. When I tell you I was barely making rent, I'm so serious. Buying lunch would make me short for rent. I hate asking other people for money but I asked one of the other bridesmaids. She didn't seem overly enthused but agreed. Already I felt like such an ass.

THEN, I had to find my own ride home from the wedding. This was difficult because we didn't have the same friends and many of the guests were staying up in the Poconos for the weekend, which cost another $30 that I did not have. I loved this girl and her wedding was beautiful but I was so aggravated...I said yes to a situation that I probably should've said no to.

I learned my lesson, right? No more "yes man". Its one thing to do things for others, but not to the point that it is seriously inconviencing me. My sis-in-law called and wanted me to babysit her twins. Immediately I said yes because I love those babies and I haven't seen them in a few weeks. I was supposed to watch them from 4 am-1 pm. I am off tomorrow and I said yes even though having babies over at 4 in the morning is a tricky thing and I love my sleep. Then she calls me back and wants me to sleep over because it would inconvenience them to wake up and drive to my apartment. But would it not inconvenience me to go stay at their house and feel uncomfortable all day? Its not like I'm getting paid for this, which I would never ask for. My fiance also didn't want me to go and when I told her that, she immediately criticized our relationship. No, my man does not run my life. We just enjoy our evenings together, since when is that  a bad thing?

I'm just venting. It really bugged me because I really wanted to babysit...at my apartment...

My Christian Debate

My Christian Debate

I have been struggling with the whole Christian versus Religious argument. You would think that they are one and of the same, but I am beginning to think differently.  From the beginning I was reared up to be religious. I was baptized, I tithed, I attended church regularly, I sang in the choir, etc, etc. Basically I was in church almost every day except Fridays. I became an expert on donning the appropriate attire thus getting called "Church girl" in high school. These things can easily and have become ritualistic. The true meaning behind the ritual is lost over time.

But being a Christian seems to be more about the emotions, the devotion, and the feeling about God. You get lost in the love, the sacrifice, and most importantly the intimacy of the relationship with God. It is all about God, right? How can we forget about the one that I presume the rituals were centered around?

Sometimes I feel as if I get caught up in the religious whirlwind and feel disillusioned and unsatisfied. I am not as involved as I used to be in church and I feel guilty for that sometimes. I applied for a job in a church that I was attending last year and when I was denied the position, I felt as if I wasn't Christian enough. I am not perfect by any means but I have made choices in my life that were not always wise. I'm fine at home, but once I go to church, I feel like I am exposed and found lacking. 

And the thing is, I do ask God for forgiveness but when I go to church I feel ashamed. I seem to judge my actions by how often I am being religious. Why do I continue to punish myself for things that God has already forgiven me for? Since when did religion become an outward stamp of approval on my jacket lapel?

I would think that my questioning is a good thing because otherwise I wouldn't grow as a person, spiritual or otherwise. It's really hard because there are few people in my life that I feel that I can openly share this with. My family is very traditional and religious; they are not very accepting of things that stray from that. I was brought up in a very close minded way and its hard being on the other side of that.

These days I don't attend church as much as I used to; although I have found a church that I love. I take comfort in the fact that when Jesus did walk the earth, he surrounded himself with his loyal 12 and went to dinner with prostitutes and tax collectors. He was a cool down to earth type of guy, who also happened to be the Son of Man. He came to do His father's work and touched people along the way. I am inspired by his gentleness, his love for people, his good works, and his acceptance. I'm not saying that going to church is bad. It's a good place to fellowship, have accountability, and learn about the Word. I am just frustrated with rituals and how they seem to be more important than the relationship.

I'm actually scared to ask because religion is always something that is a tender topic for people, but what do you think

Broken Silence

So it was one of those days; rainy, cold, and dreary, and my fiance was in one of his moods. I was trying really hard  to keep him talking and not let his mood affect mine, as it often does on occasion.

So we're sitting on the couch ignoring each other; because I've decided to give him some space. I should be working on a homework assignment that is due tomorrow but I feel the need to post something on PNN. I read some really great posts today and I want to contribute something also. Fiance is watching an episode of Punk'd that he DVR'd and he's doing that thing that he does. You know; he stares at me until I break into a smile which I always do! I try to ignore him and focus on my future post. I refuse to be the one to break down first.

I start writing my post about succeeding in grad school and out of the corner of my eye I see something move, fast. I look up in time to see...I can't say it. I can't say it. I look up to see a mouse dash under my little end table. The breath leaves my body and my mouth falls open but all I can muster is a loud gasp. Fiance looks at me in alarm and says, "What's wrong? What happened?"

For several minutes I cannot even talk. I gesture wildly and finally the words leave my mouth. As the words register, I scream and jump onto a nearby chair. While he is trying to get the ____out, I am in the freezing hallway in my house shoes and a tiny top trying not to lose my mind. I'm also trying to figure out at whose house I can stay at for the remainder of my lease, because there is no way in hell that I am sleeping here anymore. Fiance discovers that there is a hole behind the radiator and he proceeds to close it up. My hero.

Alas, the silence has been broken but I have a new problem on my hands. Where can I get a cat and fast?

If At First you don't Succeed...

Yesterday was my last day of fieldwork and that is equivalent to an internship. In the OT world, there are two levels. The first is when you basically observe under a clinician and the second is when you get to be an indentured servant for the state. Lol. For some reason, when I was getting my final evaluation from my Supervisors, I found myself getting teary eyed.

Then it dawned upon me, I was supposed to be graduating this May. Life took me for a loop two years ago to be exact. Fresh from college, I applied to a graduate program that boasted of its unique weekend program. I leaped at the opportunity to attend school on Fridays and Saturdays while still being able to work almost fulltime. It was a match made in heaven...at first.

I have always been a good student and I didn't think I would have a problem. Not going to school until Fridays caused me to procrastinate until Thursdays. The material we learned was crammed into six-eight hour days (every other weekend) which was equivalent to other programs who had classes every day for 2-3 years. Suddenly the "good" student was struggling. Of course, failing never crossed my mind. It also never occurred to me that I was getting way too much information at one time and it wasn't being reinforced quickly enough.

In this particular program, more than 3 B- were grounds for dismissal from the program. I got 2 B- and one C. I had no idea I was getting dismissed. Sure all the signs were there, but I thought they would give me another chance. I would be a great OT and plus it wasn't like I was failing. The day I got dismissed was a hazy, bleary, and tearful blur. Going to OT school was in my five year plan and I had no idea what I was going to do, not to mention that I had to break the news to my parents.

To make a long story short, I was depressed for a while but I was determined to get back into school. I wasn't ready to call it quits. I applied to my current school who were appalled that with my grades, I had been dismissed in the first place. But could I really blame them, they had their standards and I guess I fell below.

I loved the new program and that was truly a match made in heaven. Transitioning wasn't easy. I had to go to school Monday-Friday practically all day and that cut into my working time. Actually I was forced to work only on the weekends so I was barely making any money. That first year was a financial hell, to say the least.

So my last fieldwork represented how far I have come. I'm not as far as I could've been but I didn't give up. Don't worry, this time next year, I will be an occupational therapist.

Weirdo Awards 2

I mentioned in the first segment of Weirdo Awards that I hate talking on the phone with a fierce passion.  Here's how it goes every time (there are only a select few for which I willingly pick up the phone)

The phone rings. I ignore it but grow increasingly agitated as the ring tone continues to wail loudly or vibrate annoyingly. I finally get up and stalk over to the bookcase where the phone is dumped unceremoniously every afternoon when I get home from school. I glance at the caller ID, sigh, and put the phone back down. The voice message icon comes on and an anxious feeling fills my body as I realize that sometime in the near future I will be forced to call this person back.

The second scenario usually involves my parents. They call me; I do the whole waiting dance before I pick up the phone. I know I should answer it because prolonging it is never good. But as usual I put the phone back down and obsess about when I should call them back, why they are calling me, and how many days I can wait and with which excuse  I can give for why I waited so long to call them back.

Does this sound exhausting to anyone, because I am freaking tired. But I...can't...stop. Maybe something is really wrong with me. In a country where people are obsessed with labeling and diagnosing, shouldn't there be one for me? Maybe then I can get some medicine to cure all this madness

I don't really know why this happens. I know this is weird, thats why it was awarded a Weirdo Award. There is no rhyme or reason; its  not like I only do it to those who I loathe. I do it to almost everybody, even my siblings sometimes. Texting is a different story altogether. If someone texts me, I will text them back immediately. There has even been instances where the person will call, and then text me, and I will respond to their text right away. Obviously, I need help.

I am...My Hair

India Arie has a song called "I am Not My Hair." I love that song but my hair is every bit a part of me. I have had a power struggle with my hair since the day I was born. It was always too short and kinky and it never grew fast enough. I was introduced to a perm and while it chemically straightened my hair, it still didn't make me look like the girls in the hair magazines. You know the long flowy hair that brushes the shoulders. I grew up believing that long hair meant beauty, sexiness, and boys. Guys liked long hair and I needed to get some.

Then I got braids and they gave me that ethnic pride. I felt Afrocentric and beautiful. Braiding is an art and I was proud to sport it on my head.

Eventually I got sick of braids and decided to get hair extensions. They were cool for awhile but I tired of people asking me if that was my real hair and etc. Truthfully, I felt fake and it took too much upkeep.

Then I took the big plunge and cut my hair. I'd been toying with the idea for a while and finally one day I did it. And I felt liberated. Short hair made me feel sassy, sexy, spunky, and new. Everything looked better with short hair. I bumped back into my fiance with my short hair. My mom still hates my short hair, oh well can't win them all.

This may be a frivolous post to some, but my relationship to my hair means a lot to me. Its part of the whole package that is Conchita. I feel like with short hair I have finally found what I have been looking for all those years. All those perms, braids, and extensions led me to my perfect hair style match.

Are We Being Socially Raped?

I was watching an episode of The Game and a situation came up where a male employee pulled out his penis in front of his female employee. She described it as being socially raped.

Then my fiance and I had a conversation about the way Black women are portrayed on television. I asked him, "Are we being portrayed negatively or or do Black women really act like that?"

So that caused me to think, "Are we being socially raped?"

But of course all Black women...all women do not always act the way they are being portrayed on television. Am I the only one who is frustrated? In an earlier post, I mentioned that I watched The Bad Girls Club although I hated it. I hate it for everything it represents. The females are celebrated for catty behavior, drunkeness, how sexy they can (or think  they can) be, basically the more outrageous the behavior the better. Then on Flavor of Love and For the Love of Ray J, the women are asked to jump through ridiculous hoops just to get a man. Is this all we are about? Really?

The shows that are most popular are the ones where we are behaving badly. Can you name some shows that are on television where women are celebrated for their intelligence and feminine grace? Not ones that are canceled but still on the air...Go ahead, I'll wait.

Are women being socially raped by the media and society? What do these types of shows tell impressionable youth about their mothers, sisters, and etc? It seems to me that television gets worse and worse. What kind of shows will my future daughter be watching?

I Misjudged You

So...I alluded in a previous post how I sometimes meet  people and dislike them instanteously. This is not a desirable characteristic but most times I have been dead on. The person usually turns out to be someone that I wouldn't want to be friends with.

Anywho, I transferred schools and there was pone girl in particular that I didn't like.  Something about her rubbed me the wrong  way and she just always seemed to confirm my dislike every time she opened her mouth. My first mistake was that I let other people in my ear. My close friend always seemed to be wrongly treated by this person and I guess I disliked her by association. She never did anything to me, so I never had any real reason to dislike her.

After a year of not liking her, things changed. Suddenly she was more likable. I've actually found myself holding conversations with her and realized that not only is she quite funny, she makes a lot of sense. She has a good head on her shoulders and she's kind fun sometimes. She does still say some stuff but it doesn't bother me as much.

This is my apology to her. I'm sorry I judged you before I ever gave you a chance to reveal who you are.We could've been friends this whole time. I know she's not going to read this, but it makes me feel  better. 

A Bientot!

Cattiness is Ugly

I love women, not as a sexual preference, but because I have blessed to know some of the most amazing women through my lifetime. The first being my mother whose hug always seemed to be the safest place on earth when I was sad or happy. The women in my life have freely given me advice, given me a shoulder to cry on, and taught me how to be graceful and classy.  They have been second mothers, older and younger sisters, and best friends.

I have been lucky to have known my best friends since the third and fourth grade. We have always been honest with each other and supported each other. We are not the type of friends who talk behind each  other's back and as I get older, my appreciation for them continues to grow.

But at the same time, I've seen the ugly side of women and even myself. In college, I was friends with a bunch of upperclassmen who I regarded as my older sisters. They gave me advice and showed a naïve girl the ropes of life. Little did I know that these same girls would later turn on each other in the ugliest cat fight I have ever seen. I didn't know what fake was until I found myself in the company of these women. They opened my eyes to see that not every woman or even person is thinking for your benefit. Everyone does not wish you well or happy.

In my graduate class, I have seen such cattiness.; girls hating on other girls just because they are attractive. While waiting for the trolley one day, I saw a group of girls pick on one girl just because she was attractive. They were as young as fourteen or fifteen years old! Where do we learn our catty traits?  Why do we continue to hate on each other for silly things?

Sadly I feel as if I have seen slight strains of such cattiness on PNN. I love being on this site primarily because it allows me to post my creative musings and second because of the feedback from other people who seem to share my passion of writing. Most of the comments have been very encouraging and I look forward to all opinions. I've read some of the funniest postings and some of the most heartbreakingly transparent posts at the same time. Everyone has something valuable to say and I feel like we are not all getting a fair chance to share.  I feel as if I have something in common with a majority of the writers on this site, whether it is something as frivolous as shoes or something as deep as a painful past. I hope that this can be the one place where we can put our cattiness aside and just support each other wholeheartedly. I don't expect everyone to get along or even agree with each other's postings but damn it, can we give each other the freedom to express it at least?

Weirdo Awards

Is it weird that I still watch Sex and the City and have no idea what new shows are on tv?

Is it weird that my fiancé and I can speak almost solely in South Park phrases?

Is it weird that I watch The Bad Girls Club but I hate it for everything it represents but yet can't stop watching it? As we speak, I just recorded the final episode, something is seriously wrong with me.

Is it weird that I walked into a shoe store yesterday, agonized over a pair of shoes for half an hour, walked out, and ten minutes later walked back in and bought the same shoes?

Is it weird to look at someone and know that I don't like them and then have them do something later that confirms my first thought?

Is it weird that I love PNN so much better than facebook?

Is it weird that my professors are now on facebook and they requested to be my friend? If I say no, will that affect my grade?

Is it weird that I gag when a much older man tries to talk to me? I mean c'mon.

Is it weird that I am obsessed with sun dried tomato hummus but only had it one time? I can't find it anywhere near me...

Is it weird that I'd rather text than talk on the phone? I hardly ever pick up the phone when people call me first, I always call them back.

Is it weird that I am obsessed with gossip sites? I mean why do I care what Rihanna wore the other day?

Lastly, is it weird that it takes me three attempts to post on this site? It always comes out with this gibberish at the top. I'm not the most tech savvy person but damn!

What do you do that may be considered weird by other people?

Women I Admire

So we had a speaker coming to our school and she is considered a big deal in our profession. Normally I don't get caught up in all that hoopla, but I was curious to see if she would measure up. I was pleasantly surprised when I went. She was an older woman who was very cool. She just seemed like the kind of woman that would be comfortable anywhere and with anyone.  She didn't speak at us; she held a conversation with us for two hours. The most amazing thing about the whole experience was that she was very inspiring. She brought back excitement into school and reminded us why we wanted to be OTs in the first place.  I was feeling a little burnt out and it was good to be reenergized towards the end of the semester.

This got me thinking about women I admire and who inspires me.  The first woman is my oldest friend. We grew up in the same church and there came a period when things got really difficult for her. Amidst all the gossip and speculation she created a wonderful life for herself. I've always admired her spunk and how she really doesn't care what others think.  I also love her always changing haircolor. I still have the bottle of bright burgundy hair dye she convinced me to buy that I can't bring myself to put in my hair.  I think of her all the time when I am tempted to throw in the towel.

The second woman I admire is actually one of my classmates. She got out of a verbally and physically abusive relationship to meet a man who treats her the way every woman is supposed to be treated. She goes after what she wants and she finds joy in the littlest things!

Lastly, I admire my best friend for her ability to always do her own thing. Sista girl can take an outfit and make it uniquely hers. She has worn the craziest outfits but she always makes them work. My childhood would have been absolutely boring had I not met her in the fourth grade. We don't always get along but I know that she is always there for me.

My Body

The longest relationship I've ever had is the one with myself and some days it's harder to deal with than some of my external relationships!  I could probably go on and on about my internal struggles with myself, but the one that keeps popping to the surface is the body image thing.  I wish I could say that I was above all the body image hoopla, but honestly I've been dealing with it since I was younger. I'm sure it comes without saying that we live in a society that is saturated with intense pressure to look a certain way.

It all began when I was younger, like elementary school age. My mother used to call me chicken legs because I had such skinny legs. It didn't bother me until junior high when I started comparing myself to my friends and other girls in my classes. My best friend at the time had thick legs and I thought she had the best legs in the world. Of course she thought her legs were too big. You know how usually friends want what the other has, that wasn't the case for me. Even she agreed that my legs were skinny. And the worst part about it was that I wasn't allowed to wear pants, so my skinny legs were on view all the time!

My second hang up was about my arms. For some reason, I've always had these defined arms that look like I work out, even when I was in junior high. And I can assure you, I was not working out. Sure everyone raves about Michelle Obama's arms now, but back then, girls were not admired for having strong looking arms. I remember being teased about my arms in technology class and I felt so low. I did all I could to hide my arms; I never wore sleeveless shirts until college and I always made sure my shirt sleeves weren't too tight. The quick fix cure for that was to date a man who has way bigger muscles than I. Lol. Unfortunately I still have a few hang-ups about my arms, but I am more comfortable with that part of my body.

Nowadays I find myself in some crazy quest to meet a certain number on my bathroom scale in order to wear a bikini. Of course I will not reveal what the number is, but it just shows how obsessed I still am with the way I look. I've been going to the gym more lately and it feels good to be able to run a mile or run a few wind sprints. It makes me feel powerful and happy that my body can do such things. I also like looking in the mirror and seeing subtle difference in the way my clothes fit. Plus, working out makes me feel a lot less guilty about succumbing to the occasional junk food cravings (ok more than occasional).

But sometimes I find myself thinking about fitting into a certain bikini or that certain number on the scale and all of the exercise suddenly seem  like a form of punishment. I have also tried to do things like not eating after eight or not eating certain foods, but I just can't do it. I love food way too much to restrict myself.

There is nothing wrong with caring about the way you look. Someone once told me that your external features is the first thing people see. It's not always fair, but we do live in a world where we are judged by outward appearance. And personally when I take care of myself by taking a few extra 20 minutes to do my hair or pick a nicer outfit, I feel more confident about myself.  I don't think that I will ever find a cure to this body image thing, but I do know that the times I've looked  and felt my best are when I am wearing something that I feel completely comfortable in. (Of course stilettos also help).  So I will continue to flaunt my best body parts, which so happen to sometimes include the parts I used to hate. Go  figure.  And as for that bikini, the jury's still out on that.

A bienot!

Love Story

Colorful birds flying above our heads,

Swoop in graceful arcs before they land.

The stillness of God's lush green earth

The whisper of rustling among the leaves and assorted ferns.

Hand in hand we walk as man and woman

Louder and louder our voices ring with frustration and anger.

The silky satiness of my skin against yours,

the kinky matted hairs of your chest on my face.

Slower and slower times feels; faster and faster our joined hearts beat.

The day we part is heavy with humid air and cooling rains.

Feet splashing in puddles; hair matted to wet shiny faces.

Staring into eyes once warm, now gone cold like a forgotten coffee.

Fingers clenched, jaw set.

Voices rising and falling; my tears and inaudible bawling.

Alone to watch the thirsty earth greedily drink up the silent pouring rain; only to dry up at the first sighy of the sun's blazing rays.

And so it starts again with me when a pair of chocolate brown eysa and a pretty smile cross my path.

Know Your Worth

I was watching Biggest Loser and the contestants had to complete an entire marathon. Many of them were filled with self doubt of their ability to perform such a daunting task.

There are people in my life and even on PNN who are so amazing but yet do not seem to know their worth. There was an old song that I used to love that was sung by Nicole C. Mullen, a gospel singer. "Baby girl don't you know your worth? You're a diamond hiding on a shelf."

The only person who can make you believe this is  yourself. Everyone can tell you how wonderful  you are, but if you don't believe it; it will fall on deaf ears. I used to be the same way and sometimes I still doubt myself.

I feel like there have been a lot of posts lately on self love and this theme has been recurrent in everything for the past couple of days. Its time that we stop putting ourselves down and really appreciate ourselves for what we are and what we aren't. We deserve every good thing in our life and sometimes we need to remind ourselves of that.

Look in the mirror and say, "I am a beautiful person inside and out. I am blessed with people that love me and I love myself. I am worthy of love, friendship, success and peace of mind. I deserve every good thing and I will not stand in my own way or let others stand in my way.

And then put on your favorite song, put up the volume, and shake that bootay!!!

An Old Friend Come Back again

Jessicalee's post about her friend dumping her reminded me of my previous friendship gone awry. For the purposes of this post, I will name her Valerie.

We were best friends since the first time I saw her at choir practice at my church. It was my first time and I had begged my mother to let me join. Unbeknowst to me, the youth choir was an elite group and they did not let just anyone join. After a few weeks, I was granted access to this wonderful organization. I didn't know anyone my age in my church because my parents were not that involved back then. The first time I met her, she was telling someone about a show called Goosebumps that used to air on Fridays I believe it was. There was also a book by the same name, if any of you are familiar. I joined in the conversation and suddenly found myself with four new best friends. Whenever anyone asks, Valerie and I have different takes on how we first met, but I'm 98% sure this is the real story.

Valerie and I became best friends very quickly. We had many things in common and talked on the phone for hours about everything in the world. Literally. We even looked alike, dark skinned, slender, and both wore glasses. People were constantly asking us if we were related. For a while there I wondered if we were separated at birth. Except she is three months older than I.

Like I said, we did everything together. I already had a sister but she became my older sister. I told her things that no one else ever knew. Then she met her future husband. Let the record show that I liked him first. We met in baptism class and I thought he was cute. Well actually he told me that he was in culinary school and I think I liked that more. I went on vacation for a few weeks and when I came back, Valerie confessed that she liked him as well. I didn't care, he wasn't tall enough anyway. When they started dating, it was the three of us. They always invited me along so I never felt like the third wheel.

They got married and with marriage seemed to become more religious. Suddenly my single life was under scrutiny all the time. I felt judged for every guy that I liked or for places that I chose to frequent. She had her first baby and we had less and less in common. I returned her phone calls less and less and became more busy at school.

Then we just stopped talking. I don't even know when it happened. I just woke up one day and realized that I hadn't spoken to her in almost a year. This girl was my bestest friend in the whole world. I was the maid of honor at her wedding and she was to be at mine.

We recently reconnected and when we talked on the phone it was like time had never passed us. But...something is still missing. I'm not sure if I want her in my life like she was before. We are supposed to hang out when I go visit my parents on Mothers Day weekend. I'm kind of nervous because I'm not sure what the next step is. I keep thinking about Sally G's post on " Do you notice that you've already gone".

http://sgd25.pnn.com/articles/show/43003-at-what-point-do-you-notice-that-you-ve-already-gone

I don't know how to do those fancy things when you want to link it to someone's page.

Should we try this again or has too much time passed? I'm not the same girl she met in church choir anymore, I'm not sure how much we have in common anymore.