Nik Be Nimble, Nik Be Quick...

“I carry the place around the world in my heart but sometimes I try to shake it off in my dreams”. F. Scott Fitzgerald

Ok, did y’all see that article where that man set the woman on fire in the elevator???

Or the woman who was merely stepping on the elevator and got crushed because it took off before she could….get fully in?? Seriously?? And yes I know this COULD happen anywhere, but it didn’t happen just anywhere, it happened in New York City…within days of each other.

Like is it not enough that I have become a pro-rat spotter, homeless and crazy specialist, a subway car inspector, a walking compass, and proficient in all things bed bug related?  Hell I’m damn near a superhero (whose super power might I add is a mega grocery bag carrier)…but now…noooooow I have to be an authority on elevators? Before and after I’m on?

No. No . No. No. New York. I say no. I must say no. Did I say no?

Listen, there’s no secret I have a love/hate relationship with this city…I don’t hide it.  This city has been good to me, but this city has also done me soooo wrong in so many ways. Hell it’s done a lot of us wrong, starting with the rent, but I won’t go there…I’m not going to go there. I DO NOT have time to get all “swoll” in my feelings about these overpriced apartments. That topic deserves a post all on it’s on. 

But I would be lying if I didn’t admit I have a certain “love” for this city despite all of my hatred.  Shoot, this city has given me skill sets that I shan’t learn anywhere else in this world.  And if I’m honest I’ll also say these “skills” can’t really be applied anywhere else in the world, strictly indicative of our beloved New York City’s specialness.

Seriously, the other day I was going out of town so I was bringing my luggage to work, and I realized I have some serious talent. I can lug my suitcase, lift and carry it down/up the stairs of the train station with out even stuttering a step.  Oh and the turnstile?? Swift as a fox! (yeah I know it’s sly as a fox, just ride with me on this one) Not one hesitation! That, my friends, is a bankable skill ESPECIALLY in rush hour on a New York City subway.  So then I started thinking about my other “skills” as a New Yorker (yes, transplant but I earned my wings years ago, don’t play me!)

And I came up with a little list….Ya, you know you love it!

• Finding the proper spot on the train that will let you off near the exit you need:

Now if you’re not from New York, never lived in New York, or hell never visited New York, you might not know, but this, beloveds, is an art. Especially if you’re travelling say to Penn Station and your NJ transit train leaves at 5:10 and it’s now 4:55 and you haven’t even bought a ticket yet…and the 2/3 is creeping ever so slowly in to the station?  This skill is the one you want, at THAT moment.  There’s nothing like shooting out the door and the stairs are right in front of you. 

• Spotting a rat or roach (or in the family of…) from behind:

Homie….Hooooomieeeee….I have a spidey sense unrivaled…unmatched by no other.  I can detect movement as light as a leaf.  You might wanna get at me.

• Super strength eye sight detecting something as small as a donut crumb in a subway seat:

Yeah so you’ve been on the train right? A train? Any train? Communal space = grossness<<remember that.  So please believe I scope the seats at all times, ALWAYS! My special skill however, is I can determine which if any have isht in them without even being in near proximity.  Yeah, I’m kind of dope like that.

• Cat like reflexes moving from train to train when noticing a crazy in the approaching car:

Tah….this isht right heeeree…this isht right heeeerrrrreee…will save your life one day.  I have the ability to see the train coming AND…wait for it…look into each and every car at warp speed with x-ray like vision, detect and analyze a crazy or situation, and run, duck, and maneuver to the next car or two or four….

Really…Really….Get. On. My. Level……

I mean listen, I’ve lived in many places-nine cities in six different states to be exact.  So I think I have the experience to make this next claim: People in New York City always say this is the best city in the United States, my rebuttal is always, you have to live in other cities (which most have not…hell most haven’t even left Brooklyn but I won’t go there) in order to make that statement.  And going to college and coming back doesn’t count (it just doesn’t…don’t argue this point…I won’t even listen).  You have to experience other environments, settings, cultures to compare and contrast.  Now with that said, I don’t know if I could say it’s the BEST city, but I will say there is NO OTHER city like it.  And living here you become a different person (be it good or bad) because of it.  It’s the most unique, diverse city I’ve ever lived in, and it has a certain Je ne sais quoi.

 It certainly keeps me coming back.......but let us also not forget it keeps me running too!

Bonus Post: A Red Ryder Carbine Action 200 Shot Range Model Air Rifle-Kind of Gift

Every Who down in Whoville liked Christmas a lot,
But the Grinch, who lived just north of Whoville, did not.
The Grinch hated Christmas — the whole Christmas season.
Oh, please don't ask why, no one quite knows the reason.  Dr. Seuss “The Grinch Who Stole Christmas

I promise you it was just my birthday the other day. I really don’t understand how it’s almost Christmas!  I’m not ready.  Hell, I think my summer clothes are still occupying the prime locations in my dresser drawer.  I say prime because I most certainly don’t switch out my clothes, waaaay too organized for a girl like me.  There are prime locations and secondary locations (i.e. the back of the drawer) and right now if I was to open up my drawer I’m certain a tank top will pop out, not a v-neck sweater.  So needless to say, I’m living in a world that occurred months ago, and I clearly need to catch up.  

So what better way to do so then to compile my Christmas list?  Shoot, I might even type it up to send off to Santa.  And no, I don’t believe in Santa, but I DO believe in those people that work in the post office that answers the letters, may they have mercy on my unemployed soul.  Yeah, yeah, yeah I know I’m “too old” for Christmas gifts…but not in my book, and as long as someone gives I will certainly take. I mean isn’t that the spirit of Christmas?? No? ;-)

Nika’s Christmas List

<    A Forever Lazy:  Yes, I know someone somewhere is moaning and groaning right now, but I just got my very first snuggie when I was in Maine and I’ll tell you, the only thing missing is a zipper to close up the back and then poof it will be a Forever Lazy.  Now given I’m not wearing it to the supermarket or anything but dude, to lounge around? Hellz yeah!  You’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t think that jammy would lull you into a comatose sleep... we all need that kind of sleep eh?

      The Cosby Show DVD Box Set: Yes it’s pricy, this I know. But come on, don’t you want one?  And if you knew how happy The Cosby Show made me, wouldn’t YOU want to get me one?  Tis’ the season to be givin’…Amen

      Earth, Wind, and Fire CD Box Set:   All I have to say is :

“Somethin' happened along the way
what used to be happy was sad
Somethin' happened along the way
and yesterday was all we had
And oh after the love has gone
how could you lead me on
and not let me stay around
Oh oh oh after the love has gone
what used to be right is wrong
Can love that's lost be found”

I mean don’t you want me to find the love that’s lost…you know after it’s gone? Siggghhh yeah me too….

      I Am T-pain Autotune Microphone:  Months ago I saw it in BJ’s and I thought, "my ,what a nifty gadget".  I was reminded of it on Twitter the other day and my yearning was still there.  Here’s my promise to you, if you bought it for me, I vow to always carry it in my purse and when the opportunity calls I will sing my sentences in autotune.  This is my promise, I do solemnly swear.

      A Case of Chairman’s Reserve Spiced Rum:  This is my favorite rum ever.  And well lookie lookie, It is imported by some of my best friends so what the hell, I couldn’t pass up a shameless plug.  BUT it makes awesome drinks for the holidays and well, wouldn’t you want me to be toasty??? I wouldn’t ever, never ever, never ever ever waste a drop.  It’d be the most appreciated gift of the season. Trust. I’d even regift you a bottle<< See that there?  Tis’ the season…tis’ the season everyone!

      Obama chia pet:  Chi chi chi chia….listen, here’s the logic for this, I want to have babies one day….Just stay with me now, this is going somewhere…. I want to have babies one day, so in order to make sure I don’t kill the baby, I should probably get a pet right?  Well in order to make sure I don’t kill the pet, I should get a plant.  And since we all know I kill plants… I should probably start with a chia pet.  See?! Get me a chia pet and I’ll be ready for babies.  Do it for the kids! K?

Please and thank you in advance Santa, Yours truly….

Shit, if it worked on the Muppets…*where are my stamps*

The Functional Dysfunction

A son is a son till he takes him a wife, a daughter is a daughter all of her life.  ~Irish Saying

One of my favorite commercials EVER is the one where the father is standing outside practicing cheerleading routines with his daughter, yall know the one, they only play it every other commercial during Monday Night Football.  It's supes cute and endearing and it almost always triggers emotions about my own father.  Not because he was that father to practice cheerleading routines outside with me or practice anything with me for that matter…that in fact would be a negative.  I mean honestly, never would he give up his Saturday morning Kung Fu practices (in front of the TV) to practice something as “girlie” as a routine with me, hell that’s what mother’s are for lol.  As far as “practicing” anything went, was when he pulled out his nunchucks and put his “lessons” to work.  And trust, you did not want that to happen.  Imagine trying to get your Smurf watch on and ducking nunchucks at the same time, believe me when I say it was a pain.  But despite it all or lack of it all, I was and am still a total Daddy’s girl as much as I'd probably mumble that under my breath.   **As a side note, I am also a Mommy’s girl  (when we get along…we’re both Leo’s and that can a tricky thing to maneuver) I am the youngest.  But this post isn’t about her, I’ll chat about Beverly on another post,  you know when we’ve established a closer relationship...Ms. Bev ain’t for the weak lol.**

You all have all heard my tales of The Fath, if you follow me on twitter, I’m sure.  We have an odd relationship my father and me.  A relationship that’s really book worthy, but I’ll try to detail it briefly for you here.    As a kid, he was around, but not around if that makes any kind of sense.  My parents were young, and my mom did most of our rearing, and my father usually showed up at the end of the night, you know with a pack of now & laters and a knee tickle.  (if he knew I wrote that he’d argue otherwise, but its true) But I worshiped him nonetheless.  For some crazy reason he could do no wrong, even when he was, in fact, wrong.  THAT drove my mom crazy, but what’s a girl to do?  Honestly most girls are born Daddy’s girls I believe.  

I remember once my mom was out of town and we were playing dress up, and my father asked us who we were pretending to be.  Now, had he been really present he would have known that my sister, the one with the flare of the dramatic, already knew who she was dressing up as, but I, the one who flew by the seat of her pants , had not a clue and a question like that would throw me under the bus.  But how would he know that? This was way before the now & later on your dresser hour of the day and he was trying to engage us.  So, it went something like this,

Daddy: “Maia, who are you today?

Maia: “ A model”

Daddy: “That’s nice. Nene, who are you?”

Me: “ummm…a hooker”

Daddy: *in full blackout*  “A WHAT???”

So yeah, that dialog right there almost gives a classic explanation of my relationship with my father to a T and perhaps even foreshadowed our relationship to come when I became a teenager.  And noooo, I didn’t want to really be a hooker.  In my defense, T.J. Hooker was one of our favorite shows, which often times showcased a lot of ummmm… hookers, duh….and hell the pressure was on, that was all I could come up with, sue me!  I mean, who knew that a little hooker situation would send him on the deep end lol.

So with that said, it came to a shock to all when many years, a divorce, and several custody battles later, I ended up opting to live with my father at the age of 14, in the thick of his bachelorhood mind you.  Yep, I  threw the monkey wrench in his single days such that when I moved in,  we had only one sofa, and a black and white TV, and two mattresses and box springs ON THE FLOOR! Yes, I said on the floor, a situation my grandmother quickly put the kibosh on lol.   But, in his defense he had just moved back into our childhood home, and this set up was A-Ok for him….such a typical dude.  But anyway, at first it was my sister and I, and then my sister decided to move back with my mother mid way through our first year.  So I stayed with my father and it ended up being kind of like “his and her” kids.   It was probably the biggest shake up of my father’s life, and mine for that matter. He went from being a bachelor, to having a headstrong, attitudinal, know it all, 14 year old in his life.  And THIS is when I would say I, as well as my sister, established a closer relationship with my father.  We really had no choice right? 

And as you can imagine living with your father as a young girl is no cake walk.  Okay lies some was, like when I told him I didn’t eat leftovers or do dishes AND IT WORKED! Hahahaha! But outside of that it was hard. There were things he just didn’t get or made completely difficult.  My father and I are complete opposites and my sister and my father are the same person, so you can imagine the battle clashes we used to have, much like our very own War of the Roses. And the stories…they leave their mark just like a battle zone. 

Like….

The Battle of the Never-ending Basketball game:

Okay so, when you’re younger and you’ve just started your cycle, you don’t necessarily know your body well, so sometimes it would be a surprise to you right? Often times you would go to the bathroom and Helllooooo Monthly.  Now, living with my mother, no problem usually we had plenty a house with 3 women, just call out the bathroom and someone will toss you supplies.  Oh but nooooo, not in the Roberts house of 2.  Call out of the bathroom and the response that would come back would be something like “Can’t you wait until the game is over?”  Ummm sir, I’m sitting on the toilet…do you really expect me to sit her for another hour??? Word?

Or like…

Battle of REVCO:

The time he went to Revco and made the lady behind the counter call me at home to ask me what type of sanitary napkins I used, even though I explicitly told him BEFORE he left the house? << Sooo embarrassing!

Or like….

The War of the Mistaken Aliment:

The time when I had a stomachache and mistakenly told my father instead of calling to Tennessee to tell my mother?  Why I would do that, I have no idea.  My lovely father, unbeknownst to me, asked his girlfriend to take to me to the doctor.  So, yeah not a problem, that is until we get to the doctor and I realized she took me to the GYNECOLOGIST!!!!  Can you imagine my dismay, my fear, and my shock when she pulls out the clamp?!? No prep, no conversation with my mother, no clue what was going on AT ALL.  Never had I felt so….caught off guard. (thought I was going to say violated right? Nah, it was professional but shit you need to be prepped for something like that) I’ll never forget when I got home, I marched in and yell “I said I had a tummy ache damn it, not that I was pregnant!!!” lolol

Or like…

The Battle of the Jutted Out House:

The time when I just got my license and he made me drive my grandmother around all day, including dropping her off at home, 30 minutes away…And as I was backing up the driveway, something I did daily, I wasn’t quite paying attention (yeah you know where this is going) and cut the wheel before clearing the house and not only took off the front of the car but several planks of the house…yeah I think we still joke about that one. …

Or like…

The Battle of the Evening Affair:

The time I asked him how I looked and he told me, “only street walkers where red lipstick”?  Leaving me to assume that I…perhaps… looked like an umm…. street walker? Like who even says street walker…EVER *side eye*

Or like….

The Battle for Healthy Living:

When I moved in and we ate fast food EVERY day for a year, not 4 times a week, not 3 but EVERY day..NOT ONE COOKED MEAL NOT ONE DAY…FOR.AN.ENTIRE.YEAR

Or….

The Dating Showdown:

The time he made me and my sister go out and get the license AND license plate number of the car of the guys we were going to hang out with?  The same guys from our neighborhood???

Or…

World War Roberts:

The many rules of thumb to dating the Roberts girls?

*no mispronouncing our names even if it was one of my many nicknames

*no blowing the horn in the driveway

*no pulling up with loud music

*must come and introduce yourself and shake his hand

*You must introduce yourself with your government name, no Pookies allowed

*valid license and registration

You know I can tell these stories for days, and hell so could my cousins, friends, neighbors,  and guys I dated in high school.  It was the craziest, juxtaposed relationship ever!  And the tee hee hee is no matter how awkward that time was with my father, no matter how much I missed my mom and my sister, or how many times I threatened to move back to Tennessee (like that would hurt him lol) I wouldn’t change those 4 years ever. I’d go back and do it all the same, fast food dinners and all.   There is just something special about a daughter and her relationship with her father and my father and I have a unique one that no one will ever get but us.  And yes, we fought and still fight a lot, we clashed and bumped heads like no other, he often drove me mad with his crazy ways, nor was he the man to practice cheerleading routines with me as a kid, but hey who cares….

At least I can block a mean roundhouse kick! Pow!

The Affliction of The Working Poor: When Your Best Isn't Good Enough...

“Don't blame Wall Street, don't blame the big banks, if you don't have a job and you're not rich, blame yourself..."  Herman Cain

Every time I read that quote I sniggle a bit.  Not because I think it’s profound or even remotely true, but I find it quite comical the ridiculous things people think and say.   I’m an educated….very educated…black, professional woman and I’m hardly rich, successful in my career perhaps, but rich no.  Would that be my fault? No.  I mean do you think some people choose NOT to be rich.  That would be a negative.  But that is neither here nor there.  Some people just aren’t bright no matter how much they try to convince us otherwise *side eye to Herman Cain*In my opinion, riches, sometimes, really can be the luck of the draw.

But enough about Herman, the worm (y’all remember that rhyme? I used to sing it as a camp counselor…if you catch me in the streets I will reenact it for you…dead ass serious!) , but really this statement speaks more to the ignorance of this country and people’s ability to glaze over the issues of today’s work force.  Hell, up to a few years ago, I’ll be honest with you, in my head I didn’t really identify with the issues of the working class or the working poor either.  But, as a health care provider so kindly informed me not so long ago, the boundaries of such groupings have changed.  And due to that, I consequently found myself in a new class.  Yep, my friends I am the working poor (based on her categorization).  According to Ms. “Bedside manners” her definition was so easy.  I was working and I was poor.  I promise I didn’t make that up…ok…maybe a wee bit….ok all of it.  LOLOL no really, she came to this conclusion simply because I was working, two jobs at the time but did not have insurance nor could afford the rates they were quoting me. (mind you I was only there for a tetanus shot and the shot itself was going to be 450 dollars…I won’t even talk about the visit, tests, and blood work…I get woozy just thinking about it.).  So to her that meant I was the working poor.  And Ms. Sunshine was so adamant and passionate about it that the term stuck with me ever since I was blessed with it, “The working poor.”  Now do you think that that’s the classification I wanted and aimed for when I made this career choice?

Wait let me back up.  Some of you may not know what I do exactly.  I’m a freelancer in television production.  A lovely job that has many rewards, unfortunately job security and health benefits aren’t one.  They don’t tell you that at your exit interview in graduate school, by the way.   But nonetheless, it is a profession and has distinct career path.  And I love it, at times and at times it’s a difficult path to navigate, especially since job security fluctuates rapidly.  Moreover, as a freelancer, there is a percentage of your time that is spent in unemployment.  Now, I’m not sure how many of y'all are unemployed or have been unemployed, but let me tell you something it is not fun.  Okay, okay…most of the time, like 80% of the time it isn’t fun. But there’s a small 20% of the time, that’s just damn comical.  I’m amazed at just how resourceful I can be.  It’s almost like a game I play with myself, kind of like survivor, but instead getting kicked off the island and going to a hotel, if you get kicked out of this game you get evicted. Higher stakes hahahaha….

But I digress, in all seriousness; the struggle of adulthood is real. I mean listen, am I the only one that feels like someone pulled the ol’ wool rug over my eyes?  I mean like the fugazy of all fugazies. No?  Like all of that build up as a kid for what? Bills? Unsolvable issues? Stress? Nah son…someone coulda warned a sista?  Just a little bit…like a tad bit of a red flag warning?

This is as bad as jumping on the on a subway car and finding that the heat is on, in the DEAD of summer and have that woman who looked you dead in your eye give you no warning of such hellish conditions. Yeah, stepping in adulthood is exactly that! I mean, sure your parents made such cavalier statements as “don’t rush it, you’ll be grown soon enough”, but no one ever gave you the real deal, like life is NOT an episode of The Cosby show. You may not ever get to live in the Cosby house.  And if you DO find your Heathcliff, he might not be able to solve your problems in 26 minutes (excluding commercials).  But per chance you do, YOU, my dear Claire, may have to work two jobs to help pay down the bills. 

Haha, okay my situation isn’t that bad, but I DID pick a career that lacks complete stability and as a single woman creeping into her late 30’s, it’s certainly is cause for pause.  And all of that comes not without trying because I work hard, I’m good at what I do, and I’ve progressed pretty well in my profession, but it really just is the way the industry works.  So when I see quotes like that from Mr. Cain, I have to chuckle. Clearly sir you have not a clue about how life works.  Are there some people not giving their all? Absolutely. But are there some people working as hard if not harder than you and yet find themselves still at the bottom?  Certainly.  I mean hell, quietly isn’t that what this country is built on?

But what do I know. I am unemployed right …maybe I should just “try harder” ;-)

When Crazy Comes Untucked Part 1

“Crazy doesn’t THINK it’s going crazy, crazy thinks it’s sane and just goes crazy” 

Co-worker

So let’s be honest with each other, we all have a little crazy in us right?  No not you? Okay maybe you should log off now.  But for the rest of us, crazy lurks on the inside right?  I mean it doesn’t necessarily mean you ARE crazy, but I believe we all have a touch of crazy apart of our character make up.  For some it hides deep on the inside and for others, you know, it’s a little closer to the surface.  And really how and when you see crazy is all about the trigger moments.  Some people are able to control crazy a lot better than others, you know keep it tucked, if you will.  But then again, there are those moments when crazy comes bubbling to the surface, comes out its deeply burrowed hole and debuts it’s uncontrollable foolishness.

                 

Now I think there are two types of crazy.  Emotional/relationship crazy (I will touch upon this in another post, because trust it must be addressed), and psychotic crazy (and when I say psychotic…I use it loosely…kind of). 

Where am I going with this?  Well friends, have you ever felt like you were going crazy?  I mean like certifiable, lock me up, and throw away the key crazy? No not you?  Well I have.  As a matter of fact, I’ve researched it.  Yes, y’all know I have O.C.D.  So research what you ask?  Schizophrenia/ Hallucinations you know small stuff like that.  LOLOL yes, yes, yes…I know…Web MD is NOT my friend!

You don’t know how many times I’ve gone to the doctor professing an illness I’ve diagnosed myself with online.  Hey man, it’s real out in these uninsured streets! And y’all would be amazed (from my research) how crazy, crazy can get! Oh wee…you should praise God right now that you have your right mind because really??? Real Schizophrenia is no joke.  Like imagine you’re walking down the street and as you’re walking you hear someone say “She thinks she’s cute” and you look around but no one is saying anything to you.  And then the voice says “Yeah that chick in the red shirt think she’s the shit” and you look around and YOU have the red shirt on, but again no one is saying anything. And then you hear “Yeah I’m talking about you bitch!”<<okay I kid on that last one, I’m not sure if the voices get aggressive like that lololol…but you get my point.  THAT my friend is some certifiable crazy isht!!!!

So as you can tell, in my research I found out I wasn’t in fact, crazy….but perhaps just a little unwell hehehe.  And being unwell is tots fine, as long as you can keep it confined in your own four walls.  Unfortunately, mine has come untucked way too many times.  Let me define untucked for you.  It’s when you publically…PUBLICALLY…show people just how “unwell” you can be.    And publically doesn’t have to be at the mall or in a crowded place.  You just need a witness to vouch for your untuckedness (yeah I made that up! What? Who gon check me boo??)

My first time I came untucked was a FAMU classic.  This story was told for years kind of like my own personal fable lol  (and yes you saw that correct, the FIRST TIME, there were plenty after).  Some friends of mine rented a house on St. George’s island.  It was a huge beach house, for just a weekend.  I think there were like 4 rooms and it claimed to sleep like 8 or something like that but you know that’s also counting the couch bed.  Now it slept 8 but it was maybe like 12 of us there.  Don’t judge me, y’all know that ignorant isht we used to do in college.  So the way the sleeping arrangements shook out, me and my friend ended up on the couch bed and two of the other guys ended up on the patio chairs (inside)…it was très ghetto!  So it’s really like 4 of us in the living room. 

Okay, so let me give you a little bit of background on me.  I can be peculiar about things.  I think it makes me unique.  I’ve been told it makes me weird.  To MA to…To MAH to.  But I have this thing about too much air in a room.  Like the flow of air, can be too much.  (sigggh already I realize I’ve told too much about myself as I try to explain this concept lol) But basically, I need to have the door closed to my bedroom or I need a finite room to sleep in due to the air flow.  Listen, just read it and move on…save the judgment lol.  SO with that said, I was uncomfortable sleeping in the living room because of…say it with me…TOO MUCH AIR. I believe it was this uncomfortable circumstance that triggered my untucked moment. 

Now I don’t really have all the facts of this story so I will tell you as I know it:

• I was sleep
• I had a crazy dream like I lost a wad of money
• I was frantic in the dream
• I heard my name being called
• I woke up and I was by the stairs
• I went back to bed and back to sleep

The next day one of the guys on the lawn chair says. “Yooooooooo Yana, you blacked out last night”. I’m like what are you talking about.  He proceeds to tell the story like this.  “Dude you woke up and were running all around the room, looking under the couch and in the corners.  I kept calling your name like ‘Yana, Yana’ but when you looked at me your eyes were blank and wild.  I called your name louder and you stopped dead at the steps. I asked you were you okay and you said “yeah I thought I lost something” and went back to sleep.  Yoooo that shit was crazy”

Sigggghhhh, can I tell y’all how embarrassing it is to realize you sleep walk in a room full of people.  You know your people don’t know how to act.  Before the weekend was out, I had become that little girl in the Exorcist sans the head spin.  And this wouldn’t be the last…nope…but I don’t think y’all are ready for the story of when I heard that man under my bed…I’ve given too much already. LOL

But really, sometimes crazy raises up and there’s nothing you can do about it, but give a shrug and say fuck it.  I mean we all have crazy in us right? *please say right*

*Nika shrug* but y’all still love me, no?

Storytelling Friday: A Scattered Smothered Covered Confession

“Ante Up! Yap that fool! Ante Up! Kidnap that fool!

It's the perfect timin’, you see the man shinin’

Get up off them god damn diamonds!”  ** M.O.P “Ante Up”

Can I be honest with y’all? We’re friends right? 

This single life ain’t ‘bout shit. 

Oh y’all weren’t ready for that?  Okay, let me clean it up. LOL. It’s a hard road no?  I mean I’ve been single for all of…..EVER and it’s exhausting.  I feel like my life is starting to mirror some weird reality show and I’m the only contender, like “The last woman standing”…. “Make or break her”….hahaha!

I just don’t have that hustle in me like I used to, that go out daily, nightly, and every day of the weekend…I’m tired.  Maybe I did too much too soon, too early but I just can’t muster the strength to do the prowl. That was soooooooo 2001.  But how else will I date?  Work is a dead end, online is a deader end.  Okay, so some people find themselves lucky online, I, how some ever, find that they link me with the corniest people.  Like I mistakenly put that I was Christian and rated that highly in my book, because in real life, it does mean a lot to me.  Online however, that translated to any Mormon-esque preacher, Holy Roller, 60 year old man looking for a preacher’s wife. And y’all know that ain’t even me…nu uh...no way…nooooooo no nooooo. Did I say no?

So with that said, as I scrolled through my match.com profile the other day. Oh you think I deleted my account because of that. Ha? Negative. Can’t leave any stones unturned. (so I tell myself) Yup, still on it and yeah…still being linked to preachers...maybe one day they’ll link me with a backslider, you never know. Hehehe I kid. I kid. Kind of….

But As I was scrolling through, I started rehashing some of my bad date stories and sadly I have more than just a few. It’s pretty ridiculous (and funny in hindsight). Hey don’t judge me.  Hmmph listen, find a girl who’s gone on a few dates, and you will uncover a pot of dating horror stories.  Yes? HELL YES!

There was a period of my life where every…EVER-Y date ending in a horrible tale to tell.  That was until I stopped dating.  Yes, I took myself out the game for several years.  Why come you ask?  I didn’t trust my judgment anymore.  When I was younger, and I stress younger, I used to have this saying that I wanted a man that was “thug with ambition”.  Now that I’m older, wiser, and a survivor of some harry situations I realize no such man exists.  And in actuality, I could do without that thug shit and skip right to ambition, with some side scoops of kindness, intelligence, and affection. 

But this story is before then….waaaaay before I smartened up.  As a matter of fact I had several dates after this one that progressively got worse. YES WORSE!! Hahaha. I can’t make this stuff up sometimes, albeit I wish I could and did, would spare me some of the close encounter pain.  

But nonetheless, here we go (maybe I’ll do a dating series on this blog…I have a few good stories to tell).  I was living in Atlanta and I had been dating pretty heavy but nothing great.  So I mentioned to a childhood friend of mine and ex-high school boyfriend, that I wanted to go out maybe just to the movies with someone cool, not overzealous, not possessive, and not hood fabulous, just a movie with a cool guy.  So he suggested that I meet his friend, we’ll call him Jake. So I met Jake. Jake WAS cool as a fan. I was like, word. Perfect. We went to a movie…dinner. In fact it was a great date.  We made plans for another date. And before I know it, we were in a dating, pseudo relationship.  Peeeerrrrrfect!

So, this one day Jake’s car was getting fixed, he asked if I could pick him up that night, he’d crash at my place and in the morning drop him off to get his car.  Not a problem.  Now, ironically, at the same time I was leaving my friend called me.  I told him what I was doing and he became instantly concerned.  He didn't think I should let Jake stay over, said his story was inconsistent and I needed to slow down.  Now I was young so I immediately assumed he was throwing shade, I mean we did have a previous relationship and I just thought he was trying to block.  So I dismissed him, and went to pick up Jake.  I really, really should have taken heed at this point but noooooo I can be so hard-headed at times.

Now, stay with the story, this is where it makes a turn for the worse (in clear Nika fashion).  I was starving so we decided to go to the Waffle house and in the midst of buttering my waffle, he decided to share his “story”.  And y'all know my motto, sharing is caring, however in this instance what came next, he could have kept to himself…truly. 

  

Now I’ll be honest; I tend to zone out a lot.  It’s my uncanny (hehe) ability to slip into a day dream at the drop of the dime.  I perfected it as a kid i.e. my safe space (that sounds sadder than it should really hahahaha) Okay, so I had zoned out but when I came back this is what I heard “…..that’s when I used to rob people”.

*cue suspense music*

Ummmm sir?

Come again?

So I sat there for maybe 5 seconds…kind of like a 5 second delay…took a minute to register.  And I was like, should I go there? A part of me was like nah, I don’t even want to know.  Another part of me was like…but really…what DOES he mean?  So inquiring minds wanted to know *insert me* “Sooooooo, when you say rob people…ummmm, what exactly do you mean?”

Boy O’boy…I should have seriously kept my mouth shut.  I didn’t want to know all of what he had to say…I didn’t NEED to know all of what he had to say (hence I won’t go into detail here…you can hit me on the side for that).  All you need to know is this, I was currently working at Target as a manager and this fool had me scared that perhaps he was using me for some inside job.  Yeah…it was THAT bad. 

Now here I was at a crossroads. I, Jake, my waffle, and my scattered smothered covered hash browns were at an impasse.   Do I let on, he’s shared TOO much and I am now scared, and take his butt home? Or do I continue with the plan, even though I’m now scared I’m in the presence of a straight up criminal?  With only a few minutes to contemplate, I continued on with the plan.

Friends, have you ever had random moments of clarity? Like straight up Aha moments?  They can come in the form of a random sign, happenstance, or déjà vu, but you know it when you see it. Right?  Listen, I had my childhood dog with me in Atlanta, this dog I had had since I was in the fourth grade.  He was old, ornery, had cataracts, arthritis, everything under the sun, basically we should have put him down years ago LOL.  Anyway, this dog barely ever barked.  The moment Jake walked into the house, Khari (that was his name...don’t hate! Lol) stood at attention, followed me around the house, and barked anytime this dude was within a hands reach of me. I was like shit; EVEN the dog knew he was a shady character!!!!!! But it was perfect. It gave me my out. Khari landed Jake on the couch until the morning, since he stood watch at the door the entire night! Yeah it was pretty intense.

Anywho, I dropped him off the next day and he was gone from my life.  Now I know what you’re wondering, did I ask my friend why he hooked us up? Absolutely.  And his response?  “You said you wanted to go to the movies.”

Lesson learned:  When looking for someone to vouch for the people you date, check THEIR credentials too. Hahahahaha!

** Blogger note: Has anyone noticed my storytelling days are never the same day?? Lolol I need to work out a schedule seriously….one day…until then…we press on…**

Friends With Benefits

“Myth: Casual sex has no consequences: CASUAL SEX DOES NOT EXIST! The notion of simply having casual sex and not catch “feelings” (or anything else, like an STD) is false. Studies from leading biological anthropologist Helen Fisher show that sexual encounters trigger romantic love”.  **Paul Brunson from the online Essence article “10 Common Love Myths Debunked”

So I was watching this movie at work “No strings attached”, totes cute starring Ashton Kutcher, a complete romantic comedy and it got the wheels turning.  Yes, Yes I know, last week I adamantly rebuked romantic comedies, but you know, they can be a slow sneaker.  You’re watching and it’s all cute and funny and then it’s like BAM all extra sappy and romantic. So cute and funny and in the end it all just magically works out right?  I guess that’s how life is, huh?

NOT!

 If life was like a movie it would be more like the shower scene in a horror flick...you see a shadow and you're like "Kitty, is that you???” Hell no! Its life *cue surprise knife scene and music* hehehehe

Okay ,okay… that was way pessimistic I know y’all know my sense a humor…maybe? Well, it takes a special person.  LOL.  

Anyway, I was watching “No Strings Attached” and it had me thinking about the phrase “friends with benefits.”  Ironically enough I read this article yesterday about the 10 myths of love and that was enough for me to pose a gazillion questions.  Like who came up with this term? Friends….with benefits.  Can this work?  Is this even possible?   

I mean quietly it’s the most contradictory-ish shit I've ever heard. Real talk (yeah I said it...real muthaeffin talk), the beauty of every relationship is the friendship, no? And when I say relationship I mean the true definition i.e. bonding with another individual etc.  So, if you are friends...and I mean true friends, then there's already an intimate connection, you’re just adding the benefit part, which quite frankly is the worst thing you can do, seriously.   But you add it anyway, under the guise that its no feelings…no emotions...just having fun. Man listen, if that ain’t the most smoke and mirror....yo...if you're friends already...you're ALREADY emotionally connected. The sex (if it's good) is simply the cherry on top. No? So how can you engage and claim it to be “no strings attached” if there are strings to begin with …

But those who believe in it tell me, how exactly does this work?  I would love one person to tell me when “friends” with benefits have ever worked out positively for them.  Where they did it and were still friends afterward?

Anybody…anybody…Bueller…Bueller….

So again, who came up with the phrase "friends with benefits"?

Now, I’m not saying that the “no attachment” sex doesn’t work.  For some people it works just fine. What I AM saying is don't do it with your friends, it’s just a recipe for trouble.  I mean listen, casual sex alludes that this is done over a period of time, a booty call should not be dragged out that long, is just ill-conceived and plain and simply a bad idea.  BUT,  if it’s going to be done, it can’t be on a long term and continuous basis. It really must be a hit and quit it moment, or else….it …becomes…a…relationship. Yes?

In all actuality, the wording should be more of...acquaintances with benefits...ummm, “people I know, but don't know “with benefits....“you can have some but I don't really want to talk about anything substantial” with benefits....Now THIS could actually work.  LOL

 

But certainly NOT Friends with Benefits….

You CAN NOT have an established friendship and bring in intimacy and think the emotions will remain at bay….it just doesn’t make any common sense.  Unless: yes, there is a caveat…UNLESS there was no attraction to begin with….but then, would you even want to have sex with the person?  

Get my drift? The point is leave the friendship alone for the real relationships, in all honesty its better suited there...

Trust.

Crickets and Hay: Survival of the Fittest

“The question isn't "what are we going to do," the question is "what aren't we going to do?" Ferris Bueller’s Day Off

Ticket …check. 

Hotel room…check. 

Home girls…check. 

Alma mater classic game…check. 

A possible life threatening experience…well shit…tops off a simply priceless weekend!

Let me give you the background story. This is the tale of three friends, Sharyon, Melissa, and me.  Yes I will name them directly because if I have this story on my head…so shall they.  LOL. The planning for a girlfriend meet up in Atlanta started months ago.  My undergrad, Florida A&M University *throws strike* was playing the Atlanta Classic against Southern University. A school we haven’t played in years, so it created the perfect excuse to go to Atlanta and reenact our college years. Yes? Yes,

Don’t you judge me.  Please don’t act like you don’t try to recreate those college years every now and then.  ESPECIALLY if you’re over 30 and the reality of being old(er) has jumped up and smacked you in the head.  And in Atlanta?  Like what a perfect way to dodge reality than to shoot down to the land of false pretenses. (okaaay cheap shot at ATL but yall know I’m telling the truth. EVERYBODY isn’t balling like they claim to be down there…and we’ll just leave it at that)

But I digress, back to my tale of debauchery. So…off to Atlanta we run go.  Now, the first night we get there….we weren’t soooo successful in disguising our age. LOL. We just could not get it together to go out. Hey, man it happens.  Thus, we all agreed we would definitely go out on Saturday. And that nothing…NOTHING would deter us.  Nothing you ask? Nothing, I say.  No. Thing.

So the next day, we gather ourselves…we go.  And the game was awesome. We won (just in case you were curious).  After the game, we made plans to go back to the hotel and head out to the party.  Now this party was a ways away from our hotel….and when I mean a ways I mean….well…far. BUT we had a plan, *ahaaaa* we’d take the train there, and then we’d take a cab back. The directions appeared close to the MARTA stop and hell, we’re New Yorkers and we’re not afraid to walk. So off we go….

Now if you’re smart this is where you’re probably saying… “This is where it all goes wrong right?” ….and you would be…well…right.

All's well that ends well on the MARTA…although please note: ATL’s crazies somehow missed the memo about “no means no”….but that’s a whole nutha story.

Let me lay this out for you, many mistakes were made, and made quickly:

#1: We get off the Marta and walk in the wrong direction.

#2: Once that was realized, we didn’t turn around and retrace our steps.

#3:  Someone said….and I won’t name any names “From the map, we look equidistant from the location, we may as well keep up this street”…we should have NEVER…NEVER …listened to that person. Period.  Okay….that person was me. I mean but who knew??? Who. Knew. 

Imagine this: It’s a dark and chilly night.  Three beautiful ladies are walking down the street. And when I say beautiful, I mean we were decked out. No business on the street. In the country.  Walking.

Did I say walking? 

 But there we were. Walking down the side walk.  It’s a little darker than necessary….I mean, if you live in Georgia you may want to call your officials about your lack of street lights….not safe. Not safe at all. (*side eye*)   And low and behold, the sidewalk disappears.   You may wonder what I mean by disappears? Hmmm? Like runs out.  Vanishes.  No longer cease to exist.  It’s almost like the street worker said… “Maaaaaan…fuck that sidewalk. I quit. Don’t nobody need to walk any further” (yes double negative because that’s just how ignorant it was!).

Siggghhhh, I hate quitters.  A little something you should know about me, since we’re sharing and all….

Okay, so this is where ppl with common sense would turn around right? Right? You know you want to say it. Ha.

HELL NO! Didn’t I just say I hate quitters?

Friends….I can call y’all friends right?  Listen, have you ever been determined to do something so bad that all common sense eludes you? That no matter how much you know you shouldn’t, the urge is buried so deep under your ridiculous need to be out that you simply still do it anyway?

No not you? Oh ok. Well, back to the story… 

So, someone says and again I shan’t name any names, “I think we can walk through the parking lot of that shopping plaza and end up on the other side”. <<< Makes sense right???? Hell yeah it does!!!!! *Hi fives*

Umm yeah, makes sense to a person would have….how can I say this delicately…..FINISHED THE EFFIN SIDE WALK!!!!!!

So we get to the other side and guess what?? Yeah…you got it. No sidewalk…

You’re probably having a nice little chuckle here perhaps with a tad bit of judgment…like ohhh simple New Yorkers, trying to walk everywhere….

Well don’t cry for me Argentina…

Hmmph…wait until later because yup…it gets worse. Lol

Not only does the sidewalk run out and doesn’t continue…we are now on a highway…or the exit of the highway.  So yeah, the sidewalk doesn’t just run out….THE STREET RUNS OUT TOO!

Come on man….now listen I’m not mad at the South. Really, my people are from the south.  *Tennessee stand up!* But come THEE fuck on!!!! REALLY?????

Around this time I’m saying to myself, perhaps out loud.  How. Did. We. Get. Here.

Here as in walking single file line…on the side of the highway… cars are blowing their horns…and it smells like…like…like crickets and hay….

Kind of awful right? Pah….it gets worse…

There’s a break in the field….we get off the highway. 

*At this point we’re too far gone to turn around. And honestly, it’s not even about the party anymore. It’s the muthaeffin principle.  Shit, we’re damn near singing “we shall overcome”.  THE MAN WON’T KEEP US DOWN!  People unite! *throws fist in air* *

So we climb in the pasture. I’m slightly nervous…ticks are real….says my momma. Hey man, she lives in the country…anything country and she’s like an encyclopedia on that shit. Trust.  Anyway, it’s kind of like we’re hiking. I mean, like there’s no reeeeaaaal clear path, kind of like uncharted land.  And then just like that, BAM, we’re there. It was like….finding water in the desert….like we followed the North Star and reached the promise land. The utopia. We made it.    

Yeah I know, you expected some exciting tale like a snake jumping out at us or I wrestled a deer or some Daniel Boone isht like that.  Nope.  Just the club.  We made it.  Kind of like when Harold and Kumar made it to white castle. The sweet reward when all was lost. 

But making it isn’t the point of this story.  The point of this story is about the endurance of a struggle.  The want, the need, and the drive of three friends.  The power of friendship and sticking together (even after Melissa ran past us like a freed slave) <<left that out cause I’m no dry snitcher….

Now, the big question, was it worth it?

 Eeeeeh?

Did we party like it was??

HELL YEAH WE DID!!!!

And that’s really all that matters right? ;-)

Get involved.

Double Feature Friday: A Healthy Dose of Reality...

“We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” Joseph Campbell

As a little girl you spend your nights daydreaming about your wedding, especially if you were a child like me, who grew up watching Days of our Lives and Young and the Restless (those shows had a big wedding every season).  You knew exactly what kind of dress you wanted, how many bridesmaids, the song you’ll dance to, and perhaps what you’ll say for your vows.  And it didn’t stop there; you knew how old you’d be when you got married, when you’d have your first child, how many kids you would have and their first AND middle names.

I wanted to have 7 kids in total.  Yes. 7. And they were all fully named.  (You can stop laughing now; yes I do realize it would be virtually impossible for me to have 7 kids at this age: totally pipe dream)  But to make it worse I guarded those names like the KFC secret recipe.  I’ve only shared those names with two people and every time those two have a kid, I never EVER offer up one of my names. And I would be hot to muthaeffin trot if they even attempted to take a name.  YES ALL 14 of them!

Don’t judge me….it is what it is.

So it goes without saying, things, clearly, didn’t end up as I planned ESPECIALLY since I am now 35, ring-less and baby-less.  I mean this baby making machine was supposed to be doing its last hurrah at 35.  Some thing that makes me chuckle, because really, did I think I would be ready for the kit and caboodle before now? 

That. Would. Be. A. Negative.

So it made me think, am I even ready now?

I had a conversation with a friend the other day, and she mentioned, she didn’t think she was ready to be married.  At first, I said “Whaaaaaaa?! No ma’am I totally am!!” (Said that with conviction)  Like sign me up on THAT dotted line.   Recruit me and use me.  I’m yours if you want me.  Just ask me and I’m….what? Ready! 

But then I thought about it.  And thought about it. Slept on it. Annnnnnnnd thought some more.

Am I ready to be……*gulp*...married? Am I ready to put someone else’s needs in front of my own?  Care about their feelings? Wants? Desires? To….day?

*crickets , crickets*

I’d have to answer resounding no.

Whoooooa ….

No? No? ….siggghhhh….NO.

I’m way to selfish right now.  I like my space. I want my space.  Hell, I can’t even sleep in the bed with another person….they sleep…I lay awake.

Btw, married and couple friends, when do you ever adjust to that? Because really???  *side eye*

  

Honestly, the thought of going from single…to married…seems very jarring.  I mean, I’ve been single for like…..EVER hehehe….hard to imagine it otherwise. And the challenge seems daunting, to go from everything being about me, to everything being about us, to (when we have kids) everything being about……them?

I. Can’t. Even. Go. There.

While, I do know I WANT marriage, but wanting and being ready to accept are too different things. Yes?

Okay okay okay, you know maybe my thought process is off…like someone is saying “Chile, crawl before you walk right?” Like a sista doesn’t even have a man and you’re talking about marriage! Hahahahaha!  So perhaps to know if I’m ready, I would need to be dating, have a groom, and be in love…blah blah blah blah…(minor details)

Maybe the question isn’t, am I ready to be married?  The question may be, am I ready to start the process? Actively date?

I mean I’d like to say I’m dating, but I’m not.  Not because I’m not going on dates. (ummm cause I’m noooot?) BUT I don’t even think I’ve even actively tossed my hat in the ring.  I think I’m standing on the outside in the cheering section….Like I’m AT the game, but I’m not IN the game. BIGGGG DIFFERENCE!

I need to get in the game.

Eff that.  I AM getting in the game.

So well, let’s make this official, I,  Nika, hereby proclaim, I am officially entering my name in draft.

I mean, what’s the worst that can happen eh?

*on second thought…don’t answer that*