THROWBACK THURSDAY: 1 WEEK….

“The mind once enlightened cannot again become dark.” Thomas Paine

This week, I’m prepping for my god-daughter’s college tour.  We’re going to 8 schools in 5 different states in 5/6 days, truly exciting! There’s nothing better than encouraging our youth to pursue their dreams, but more importantly choosing the right college means everything! College is supposed to be the best years of your life, and if you’re miserable…fuggetaboutit! So with that said, I think it’s important that she sees the schools that she’s interested in.  But enough about that, I will be blogging via Facebook about that trip, so tune in there.   

Planning this tour has really made me think back to when I was visiting schools my junior/senior year, and going to college for my freshman year.  And some 15 some-odd years later (don’t do the math on that); it’s amazing how I can still remember prepping for school like it was yesterday!  My parents were divorced and at this time hated each other, so the way we had to plan things out were structured...umm uniquely (that’s code for “making sure they were never in the same room together.”)  My mother lived in Tennessee, so the plan was I would go down to Tennessee  earlier than school started, and she would prep me and take me down on the “first leg” (Saturday-Wednesday). My sister would then, ride down with my father and they would catch the “second leg” (Wednesday-Saturday) of getting me started.  This schedule is important to note and a crucial part of the story.  It’s important to also not that my sister was not with me during the pre-college time spent with my mother, she was still in Cleveland visiting my father.  If my sister would have been there, there would be no story to tell lol.  This is a story I like to call “The day I learned my mother was a hype man.”

So, here I am in Fayetteville, TN, bonding with my mother sort of, we were besties so there’s no real bonding necessary, it was more like shooting the shit, when I mention that I wanted to go to school with kind of a different look.  I was known for changing my hair in a heartbeat, and my hair at the time was short, so I couldn’t cut it for a different look and I thought that maybe I should dye it to switch things up.  Yup, dye it!  Now, this was one week before freshman orientation. One week before the Operation: Take Nik to Tallahassee.  One week before I was living on my own and making new friends in a new environment.  One week before I had to navigate a new city, find a new hairdresser, and start a new life.  JUST ONE WEEK. 

Now, when I suggested my “make over” to my mother, in true Big Bev fashion, she said “I think that’s a great idea! Yes! I think you should do it!” Siggghhh, if I knew then, what I know now, I would have backed away immediately.  NOW, I realize I can say to my mother, “Mommy, I want to be a janitor. I want to own my own janitorial company, and spend my life scrubbing floors.” (Not that there’s anything wrong with this, it isn’t, however to the girl with many school loans and two degrees…eehhh? Probably not the best idea) My mother would most likely respond “I think that’s a great idea! Yes! I think you should do it!” The EXACT same answer!  What I’m trying to say here is that what I didn’t realize then is my mother is a hype man!  She will NEVER tell you anything is a bad idea if you believe in it.  She will ALWAYS support you.  She firmly believes go out, live, love, and make mistakes.  She flies by the seat of her pants and goes with the wind.  There’s no filter, there’s no halt button, there’s no, no.  Sounds great right? Not so fast….

What comes next is that fork in the road I talked about last TBT (throwback Thursday), but this time where I went left, I’m certain I should have gone right.  And when I say certain, I mean certain as the day turns night.  Right after I said to my mom I wanted to dye my hair, she responded “I can do it for you. I used to dye hair aaaaall the time in college”.  **Pause for a moment**  

There were many clues that this was not going to end up…ummm...optimal, yes that’s a good word, optimal:   

This was clue numero uno!   In school boo?? Uhhh that was like 20 years prior if not longer, did you really flashback to ummmm…college?   But again, the hype man got me well…hyped.  So off we went to the mall Wal-Mart and we bought a highlight and frost kit, yup you read that right…FROST.  So that day, we prepped, and that night we executed the plan. 

Clue 2, my mom was reading the directions…pause here.  The directions boo? I thought you did this all the time???

 Clue 3, my mom decided too much dye was left over, and it was wasteful, she flipped the cap up and smeared a bunch on the back. 

Clue 4, at the mark where they, the professionals who made the product explicitly said take the color out, my mother, the professional in her head, said “it should stay on longer”.   Proclaimed we were being wasteful -_-

***Oh my loves, what happened next was the biggest tragedy of 1994…of the decade…of perhaps my young life.  Yes, bigger than that time I fell down the stairs on the black side of school.  Yes, bigger than that time I threw up on that girl on the Mohican Camp bus in elementary school.   This was nothing shy of pure catastrophe.  When we rinsed thine hair in the sink, I audibly heard my mother gasp. ***

This is the last and final clue that things were going to be not just bad, but DAMN BAD! I looked in the mirror, and there was neither a frost nor highlight in sight. My hair in fact was completely….wait for it… orange.  Yup, orange not burgundy, not brown, not light brown, not blond highlights….orange homie, orange.  ALL OF IT! 

ONE WEEK BEFORE MY NEW LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It was so bad, it was funny.  I promise we laugh for hours.  We laughed until I cried, and I laugh-cried until real tears came and after the real tears, the sobs came, and then the meltdown.  Oh, and was it an epic meltdown.  Because remember I was in Fayetteville, Tn., so umm yeah…who was gonna to fix this boooooo??????  My mom claimed it could be fixed.   So, the next day we made an emergency appointment at a salon in Huntsville, Alabama, but all they could do was drop a dark rinse on it.  It was, in fact…unfixable.

Yup, one week….before…my…new…life.  

In one week it all changed.

But here’s the funny thing, when the week finally came and I went to school, it didn’t even matter.  Only two people knew me before college and once they got over the shock, they were fine.  Apparently, if you’ve never known what normal was, you’ll assume normal is.  (Don’t question that, it sounded good when I was typing it. It makes sense. Trust me)

Listen, lesson’s come in various avenues.  Some lessons can be outright and some more concealed.  But eventually, a lesson WILL reveal itself.  And more importantly, if you do not learn your lesson, it will repeat itself until you figure it out.  There’s no avoiding a lesson that is destined or pre-destined to be yours. 

My lesson that day was multi layered,  there were soooo many:  Follow your gut… don’t be afraid to ask questions… if it doesn’t seem right, it isn’t…your mother doesn’t have a clue of what she’s doing (okay maybe that wasn’t a lesson per se, but certainly a fact). 

That day I ignored the lessons.  One week later, I was an orange-head.  Lesson learned.

THE VANISHING…

“Extinction is the rule. Survival is the exception.”  Carl Sagan

Dear Friends, Family, Countrymen, and City folk,

Please lend me your ear. I know I  complain speak a lot about New York City and express a lot of concerns about my residence here, please don't think this is another one of "those" times.  And actually, I just want you to know that it’s not because I hate it *ahem* per se because I do love it tremendously but mostly in a “it hurts so good” kind of way (Dooooon’t act like you don’t know what I mean.  Y’all know you’ve had some hurt so good moments!).  And mostly, I speak about this city the way I do because it’s quite complex.  My love for it, my hate for it, my obsession, or even my repulsion is layered with 10 or so years of circumstances.  And I also realize that sometimes you read my stories and think they are fabricated, they are not.  These stories are real. EVERY DAY.  ALL THEE TIME.  I’m amazed at how many crazy, impossible, outlandish people, things, events, I encounter on a daily basis.  And trust me I’m a pro at handling them all….well most.  You’ve seen my record (you better ask somebody! Lol) 

But this is why I come to you, in an open arm plea.  Something tragic of immense proportions have happened.  I have lost one of my prized possessions.  My mojo.  Yes, as of late, my mojo has been off. Uh huh, that is correct I have in fact, lost my mojo.  Unbelievable right?  I was caught off guard.  I felt violated, exposed even.  I mean listen I never even knew it was gone until the other day I was walking in Harlem and texting (at the same damn time…sorry I just had to..anywho) and I stepped on a chicken wing.  A CHICKEN WING!!!! GASP! YES A BON AFIDE CHICKEN BONE!!  Now to the average Joe this is no cause for alarm.  But, for me…a seasoned duck and dodger, this is a major catastrophe! I can text, talk, walk and dodge rats, dog crap, crazies, buses, and ESPECIALLY chicken bones.  Clearly my New York chi is off balanced…ummm, out of whack if you will.  I’m concerned. You cannot allow your guard to be down for not one minute in this city.   THIS. IS. HOW. YOU. GET. GOT! Yes, people, get got!

Listen, when you move to this city you’re gifted with many things. But the most important gift you’ll ever receive is your ability to foresee all trouble, without it you’re nothing but a victim.  The elements will snuff you out so quick, you won't even see it coming.  Shoot, in your first apartment they hand over the keys, a set of glue traps, and the grand gift of clairvoyance.  Believe in it, trust it, and most of all respect it because damn it…YOU NEED IT.

So with that said, my light is dimming. And I don’t know why.  I suspect it’s because I’m ready to move on from said city.  Which is moooost likely true but damn it I can’t lie down like a maimed animal and die.  I must fight to the very end.   I mean today, I sat next to a man who literally was typing a deck about anarchy. I never once flinched. I mean it is 9/11!!!  Is it that I’m becoming too desensitized that I’m losing my 6^th sense?  My ability to spot crazy a mile away was my superpower-my gift.  You don’t get many gifts as powerful as that.  Without it, I’m…..nothing.  Well, I mean I am something…according to my mama I AM SOMEBODY…but you get the point. I need that part of me or I’m NYC mincemeat.

I think what I’m saying to you, family, is that there’s a part of me missing.  It’s like an armadillo without its shell.  I mean right now I’m the lone gazelle lost from the pack just waiting to get taken out by the vicious lion.  I mean what did that gazelle ever do to anyone but graze grass?

It’s crazy really.  I feel like I’m on a roller coaster ride, One day I’m snapping off this poor Indian man’s head for stopping on a crowded sidewalk, denying the wheel chaired homeless woman coffee (I did eventually get her coffee just in case you’re attempting to judge me…I rebuke you!), and strong-arming my cab driver for a cheaper fare and the next minute I’m strolling down the street stepping on chicken carcasses.  And yes, I know the aforementioned behavior isn’t optimal, nor is it indicative of my “original” personality but please believe me, it is certainly necessary.  They say only the strong survives, and my dear people, your girl is about to get slayed.  So, if you’ve seen my mojo, will you please return to sender? Thanks a bunch dolls! *smooches*

Sincerely,

Lost in Translation

**(don’t ask me what this means I’ve always wanted to sign out with it…and since it’s my blog I can do whatever I please. BOOM SNITCHES!)**

“Yet, as only New Yorkers know, if you can get through the twilight, you'll live through the night.” Dorothy Parker

THROWBACK THURSDAY: FINDING THE VOICE WITHIN...

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.    Robert Frost

**Bloggers note: Throwback Thursday’s always entertain me.  For some reason, nothing’s more amusing than looking back on one’s life or other’s lives especially people you’ve met as an adult or later in life.  So it made me want to do a Throwback Thursday of my own.  No it won’t be of pictures but I will do a throwback post/memory/ or story on Thursdays. (Bear with me as I’m attempting to add structure to this blog O’Mine)**

Some people believe you are born with your specific personality and general character make up, for me this couldn’t be further from the truth.  I believe there were specific moments in my life when I became exactly who I am today.  Now, yes, it’s been massaged, developed, and has grown but there were specific forks in the road that set me off on the path I’m on and the paths I’ve chosen have mapped my personality. 

To understand this theory you have to understand a bit of the person named Nika. I have 3 names, a first name and two middle names (this means something seriously lol). Nika is one of my many nicknames.  I was a kid that had a very vivid imagination.  I’ve alluded before that I was and am an avid and professional daydreamer. I was born and raised in Cleveland, of parents that were pro-black, and  revolutionists in their heart. I have one sister.  As a kid (and quietly as an adult) I was allergic to everything under the sun.  I had many ailments including being a chronic nose bleeder, so my activities were limited.  I was a little active when I could be, but I mostly read.  I was quiet for the most part and stayed in my thoughts.  I never learned to color between the lines (true story even now lol).  I never did my own my hair. I rarely made my own friends.  I hated doing things on my own. I had the knack of creativity but only if I cared because I was also very laid-back. My sister, who at that time was the creative one, determined and planned every game we played. Once for an entire summer, my sister had an imaginary friend.  I tried to fake like I had one too but here’s the thing, my imagination couldn’t drum a person to save my life.  No matter how hard I tried to fake, that imaginary person was just not…well….there. HAHAHA! So I don’t know what that says about me, but that’s the kid I was just very matter of fact. 

But this “matter of factness” wasn’t always great.  It got me into a lot of trouble as a kid.  I was way to blunt, way to quick witted (a quality under appreciated in kids), and I spoke my mind far more than a child was ever allowed.  So more often than not, I stayed getting spankings.  I came from a spare the rod/spoil the child family.  And trust me no rod was left behind, if you get my drift.   Except for this one time, this one time I verbalized my distaste (if you will) and it went unpunished, This, my friends, was an anomaly in my household.  This was my crossroads.  Be it good or bad, this is when I began to unabashedly express myself (with NO filter) Now, this trait is what led me down the road of daily spankings BUT it also gave me my voice.

Let me detail you this life changing day.  Included in my laundry list of things about me, as a kid, I held sleep in the utmost regard in other words I was hella hella cranky if you woke me up.  This is something my immediate family knew and therefore implemented a delicate way to wake me.  However, not everyone respected the rules.  Let me explain, this one day I fell asleep at my aunt’s house and my mom was ready to leave so my aunt decided, against my mom’s warning, to wake me up.  But not just wake me up, but to wake me in a very abrupt and rude way.  I remember it as if it was yesterday.  She kicked the chair, it was one of those wicker chairs from the 80’s lol, and told me to “Wake my fat ass up”. 

** Now mind you if you don’t know anything about me from following this blog, you DO know I’m sensitive. And I was even more so, in the fourth grade.  Yup, I was only 9 at the time. And at that time I was super sensitive about my weight as everyone in my family was super skinny and I still had baby fat, which was a stark contrast to the folks.  But you must also note my family is one where certain words were terms of endearment, so to speak, so bitches etc. weren’t offensive AND everyone in my family cursed like a sailor.  I won’t make excuses for it and say it was right or wrong. It was just…normal. LOL**

Okay back to the story and trust the rest is quick and swift.  I opened my eyes slowly, looked her dead in the eye and I said, to my aunt who happened to have some weight on her as well, “My fat ass? Let’s talk about YOUR fat ass…” And with that my friends, the rest of the story is history.  I proceeded into a 15 minute blackout spewing every profane word in the dictionary.  See I was quiet to some, but really I was taking it all in. And I truly learned from the best.  My curse word combo game rivals the most foul mouth sailor you can ever find from here to Timbuktu.  I gathered my things, I walked to the car, got in the car, and went back to sleep all while cursing to the high heavens.  **Again, I won't say it was right...I won't say it was wrong. It just was. **

Needless to say, there wasn’t one closed mouth in the house.  Everyone was shocked especially my aunt.  Now normally behavior like this would have gotten me a personalize, hand delivered, no holds barred, primera de beating.  However, when my aunt turned to my mother to tell her she thought I was having a breakdown from my parents’ divorce.  To her dismay (and mine), my mom replied “No, I told you not to wake her up.” And got in the car and dove off.

And then a star (or devil) was born……

The End.

“Memory is the diary that we all carry about with us.” Oscar Wilde