I fell off the no-meat wagon yesterday and paid for it last night. It was an accident, really. And who knew that Italian sausage (I think it was) would make me feel so terrible? I had Louise’s penne pasta in cheese sauce with some sort of ground meat (pork?) and it was damn good…on its way going down into my belly. But at around 3am while I lay sleeping, it started to come back up. I felt it in my throat and had to abruptly sit up to keep from vomiting. Twice I had to interrupt my sleep to keep from regurgitating. I felt miserable by the time I had to get up for work. And I STILL feel like there's metal in my throat at 4pm today. All I’ve eaten was a veggie burrito, a granola bar, and a Snickers bar. So I’m swearing off that crap; nothing but fish and rabbit food for me from here on out. I’ve learned my greedy lesson. And to make matters worse, I think I’ve regained the 5 pounds that I’d lost. The good thing is that I love veggies, bread, and pasta.
Friday, March 30, 2012
Sunday, March 25, 2012
It's not all in my head
(I wrote all of my thoughts down and blogger didn't save any of it :( So this is a rushed rewrite)
Recently, I was asked whether or not I had race-related conversations with my friends of other races. I do not. Mainly because whenever I've tried, no one really wants to talk about it. It's not their reality and it doesn't affect their day-to-day so they'd rather live like racism, the kind that affects me, doesn't exist. Only one of my friends of another race has ever even asked me a race-related question. She said that she was trying to understand but I got the sense that she was more interested in pointing out that the woman in question was merely paranoid. So when I was asked whether I had such discussions with my friends of other races, I told the story of the time I'd gone to dinner with four friends, one Indian, one Asian, one Costa Rican, and one Armenian. Then there was me, the black one.
We all met up at a popular Chinese restaurant in Pasadena,California. After we arrived and were seated, I got up and went to wash my hands. 5 chairs and my purse was on the back of mines being guarded by my friends. Our waiter came around and poured everyone a glass of water, except me. Hrm. Then he came back while I was seated and took everyone's drink order, overlooking me yet again. He literally asked each one of them what they wanted, except me. I waited to be asked but nothing. He left. I made mention of this to the girls, like "uh, I know y'all saw that," and they all looked puzzled. Shortly after that, the waiter came back with their drinks and still didn't acknowledge me sitting there. All four of them had two glasses in front of them and I had none. Nobody said anything, we just observed. As he sat drinks in front of each of them, they were nervously waiting for me to make a scene but that wasn't my intent at all. If I was going to throw down the race card I wanted them to witness the whole ordeal for themselves. I wanted them to acknowledge it for what it was - not a figment of my imagination. If any of them had an explanation to the contrary, none of them offered it up. They just sat their, uncomfortable because I'd decided to point out the elephant in the room. The waiter returned again and refilled their water glasses, still pretending that I didn't exist. By this time they couldn't tell me that he wasn't either an asshole, a racist, or both. So I asked him when I could expect to be asked what I wanted to drink and he was like "oh, uh...what do you want to drink?" 0_0
I pointed out that all four of my friends had two glasses in front of them and I had none, despite him being at our table at least 3 times since we got there. He simply looked embarrassed.
But what really pissed me off was that at the end of dinner the restaurant had comped all of our drinks and because of that my Armenian friend felt bad for the waiter, so she decided to tip him double. She cared more about a strangers' feelings than she did mine, her so-called friend. I was extremely hurt but, like a fool, I never addressed her about it. I didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable, even though she obviously didn't care that I was made to feel uncomfortable. This wouldn't be the last time something like this would occur and I'd let it go. What was the point? Who cared? Only me.
I often get the feeling that many think that racism is a figment of our (black peoples) imaginations. That we are just paranoid and that no one would, consciously or unconsciously, discriminate against us. Which is exactly the reason why I handled the restaurant situation the way I did. I recognized it. I knew immediately what it was but I wanted them to see it unequivocally, no excuses, no rationalizing it. They were all speechless, yet I suspect that at least half of them sympathized more with the waiter than they did with me. Try as they might, they couldn't explain it in any way that would make me believe that I didn't experience what I'd experienced. So they chose to ignore it.
There are thousands of senseless murders and hate crimes in this country, yet I don't know of any where the police allowed the murderer to go free while the murdered, a child, lay dead in a morgue for three days, despite having a cellphone on him and despite his father filing a missing persons report. No one bothered to figure out who he was, no one cared whether someone was looking for him. They took the word of his killer claiming self-defense even though this child wasn't carrying any weapon at all and was merely walking home from a convenience store. It has now been months since his murder and, despite knowing full well who his killer was because he confessed, no arrest has been made. That baffles me. There is no comparison between this hate crime, this murder, and any other that I have heard of that didn't involve a black youth.
Like Trayvon Martin, my child wears a hoodie every single day, and he has for the last four years. He is a 6 foot, 1 inch tall, black 17 year old and, sometimes, when it rains he wears his hoodie over his head, like Trayvon did. Every day before he leaves our house I have to instill fear in him for his own safety, I worry and pray that no one acts on their prejudices against him. Through no fault of his own, he fits a stereotype - he's young, black, and he wears a hoodie to stay warm. I doubt that it would make a difference if he chose to wear a coat rather than a hoodie. He'd still be young, black, and tall. Or, according to my new ex-military co-worker, he'd still be "suspicious-looking". Unlike my co-worker, though, my son doesn't have the luxury of wearing whatever he wants. He barely even has the luxury to exist. So yes, I am angry. I have a right to be angry. Trayvon's family has a right to be angry. We should all be angry!
The post linked below sums it up so accurately, it hurts:
http://blacksnob.com/snob_blog/2012/3/20/no-apologizes-on-the-killing-of-trayvon-martin-and-being-goo.html
Recently, I was asked whether or not I had race-related conversations with my friends of other races. I do not. Mainly because whenever I've tried, no one really wants to talk about it. It's not their reality and it doesn't affect their day-to-day so they'd rather live like racism, the kind that affects me, doesn't exist. Only one of my friends of another race has ever even asked me a race-related question. She said that she was trying to understand but I got the sense that she was more interested in pointing out that the woman in question was merely paranoid. So when I was asked whether I had such discussions with my friends of other races, I told the story of the time I'd gone to dinner with four friends, one Indian, one Asian, one Costa Rican, and one Armenian. Then there was me, the black one.
We all met up at a popular Chinese restaurant in Pasadena,California. After we arrived and were seated, I got up and went to wash my hands. 5 chairs and my purse was on the back of mines being guarded by my friends. Our waiter came around and poured everyone a glass of water, except me. Hrm. Then he came back while I was seated and took everyone's drink order, overlooking me yet again. He literally asked each one of them what they wanted, except me. I waited to be asked but nothing. He left. I made mention of this to the girls, like "uh, I know y'all saw that," and they all looked puzzled. Shortly after that, the waiter came back with their drinks and still didn't acknowledge me sitting there. All four of them had two glasses in front of them and I had none. Nobody said anything, we just observed. As he sat drinks in front of each of them, they were nervously waiting for me to make a scene but that wasn't my intent at all. If I was going to throw down the race card I wanted them to witness the whole ordeal for themselves. I wanted them to acknowledge it for what it was - not a figment of my imagination. If any of them had an explanation to the contrary, none of them offered it up. They just sat their, uncomfortable because I'd decided to point out the elephant in the room. The waiter returned again and refilled their water glasses, still pretending that I didn't exist. By this time they couldn't tell me that he wasn't either an asshole, a racist, or both. So I asked him when I could expect to be asked what I wanted to drink and he was like "oh, uh...what do you want to drink?" 0_0
I pointed out that all four of my friends had two glasses in front of them and I had none, despite him being at our table at least 3 times since we got there. He simply looked embarrassed.
But what really pissed me off was that at the end of dinner the restaurant had comped all of our drinks and because of that my Armenian friend felt bad for the waiter, so she decided to tip him double. She cared more about a strangers' feelings than she did mine, her so-called friend. I was extremely hurt but, like a fool, I never addressed her about it. I didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable, even though she obviously didn't care that I was made to feel uncomfortable. This wouldn't be the last time something like this would occur and I'd let it go. What was the point? Who cared? Only me.
I often get the feeling that many think that racism is a figment of our (black peoples) imaginations. That we are just paranoid and that no one would, consciously or unconsciously, discriminate against us. Which is exactly the reason why I handled the restaurant situation the way I did. I recognized it. I knew immediately what it was but I wanted them to see it unequivocally, no excuses, no rationalizing it. They were all speechless, yet I suspect that at least half of them sympathized more with the waiter than they did with me. Try as they might, they couldn't explain it in any way that would make me believe that I didn't experience what I'd experienced. So they chose to ignore it.
There are thousands of senseless murders and hate crimes in this country, yet I don't know of any where the police allowed the murderer to go free while the murdered, a child, lay dead in a morgue for three days, despite having a cellphone on him and despite his father filing a missing persons report. No one bothered to figure out who he was, no one cared whether someone was looking for him. They took the word of his killer claiming self-defense even though this child wasn't carrying any weapon at all and was merely walking home from a convenience store. It has now been months since his murder and, despite knowing full well who his killer was because he confessed, no arrest has been made. That baffles me. There is no comparison between this hate crime, this murder, and any other that I have heard of that didn't involve a black youth.
Like Trayvon Martin, my child wears a hoodie every single day, and he has for the last four years. He is a 6 foot, 1 inch tall, black 17 year old and, sometimes, when it rains he wears his hoodie over his head, like Trayvon did. Every day before he leaves our house I have to instill fear in him for his own safety, I worry and pray that no one acts on their prejudices against him. Through no fault of his own, he fits a stereotype - he's young, black, and he wears a hoodie to stay warm. I doubt that it would make a difference if he chose to wear a coat rather than a hoodie. He'd still be young, black, and tall. Or, according to my new ex-military co-worker, he'd still be "suspicious-looking". Unlike my co-worker, though, my son doesn't have the luxury of wearing whatever he wants. He barely even has the luxury to exist. So yes, I am angry. I have a right to be angry. Trayvon's family has a right to be angry. We should all be angry!
The post linked below sums it up so accurately, it hurts:
http://blacksnob.com/snob_blog/2012/3/20/no-apologizes-on-the-killing-of-trayvon-martin-and-being-goo.html
Friday, March 23, 2012
What’s going on?
I’m going to the races today for a marketing event with a friend of mines. Her sales pitch to get me to go was “there’s going to be ALL YOU CAN EAT FOOD! LOTS of it! Any and everything you could think of.” Lol, I mean…do I look greedy? But okay, you’ve twisted my arm. I’ll go. And eat. Hahaha. I like the old timey feel of going to a horse race and saying that I’m going to bet on a pony. It’s kind of cool, and the park and view of the mountains is absolutely stunning. Hmm… now that I think of it, maybe she kept trying to sell me on the food because when we went to the L.A. Times Food and Wine event I was damn near running from station to station sampling everything they had to offer, while she ate little to nothing. But she told me to go hungry so I hadn’t eaten for hours prior to us getting there, and we didn’t get there until mid-afternoon when the event was almost over.
I have trees for my backyard now! New trees, that is. I’ve always just had the one big one back there (two in front) but now that my neighbors’ ugly old shed is exposed on one side of my property, I needed to add some privacy/pretty ambiance. So my gardening-lady-friend picked up 4 trees for me to plant back there. She gets them wholesale so I saved a ton of my schillings. Now I’m just waiting for it to rain and the ground to soften up a bit for me to plant them. I hope I don’t kill them. Although she assures me that I won’t; that they’re super easy to take care of. I hope she’s right. I’m struggling with the succulent clippings she brought me last time. And succulents are supposed to be easy=peasy. I paid The Boy and a few of his friends yesterday to clear the area and clean up a bit over there yesterday. Next, I’m thinking of adding a white little garden picket fence and some teapot planters (idea I saw on pinterest) to jazz it up and make it comfy cozy. I cannot WAIT until the weather stays warm and I can spend time out there, project a movie out there, sit around the fire pit…aaaah, it’s going to be grrrreeat!
The other day we had to feed Seth a cricket with a pair of tweezers. He isn’t doing too well, poor guy. We’ve had him for 6 years and I had almost given up hope, thinking that he would die soon and feeling like there was nothing we could do about it. But then I actually woke up in the middle of the night worrying about that little critter. So after work on Tuesday Miles and I went to Pet Smart for some advice and to buy five large crickets. The sales rep told us to try feeding him ourselves since he can’t see. The problem is that he sheds often and with the crazy weather changes he’s not getting enough moisture in his tank to help rid him of the excess skin. And, although it has crossed my mind, I am not buying a room humidifier just for him (I wonder if they have one for his tank...hmm...GOOGLE!). So for months now he has had what looks like a skin helmet clouding his eyes and nostrils, poor thing. When his tail started to thin out and he began hiding more, we knew things weren’t good for him. Anyway, we got him to eat one cricket with the help of a pair of tweezers and it was obvious that he was starving; he just couldn’t see his prey to catch them. When my son lifted his hand and the tweezers out of the tank, there was a cricket leg still attached, haha. Gross. But Sethy is eating and he’s no longer hiding out.
Then, on my way home about a week or so ago, the check engine light in my car came on. I took it in for service. Two hours later they tell me that they also fixed a recall issue with the dashboard. Apparently, some people were experiencing a rattling noise in their dashboards while they drove. I wasn’t one of those people, though…until they tried fixing the problem in mine. The very next day I was on the freeway ready to pull my hair out (or about to crash) trying to figure out what was making that rattling sound in my dash. So I finally took it back in after work yesterday and they weren’t done with it until 9pm last night. Luckily, I live nearby so I was able to walk home and wait in comfort. But I still have to take the car back because they had to order the tiny part that is missing in the dash.
I’m getting pickier and pickier as I age. I think. Or maybe it’s just that now I know precisely what I want and what I won’t bother to deal with. A cartoonist befriended me about a week ago. He’s a pretty good artist. I sized him up and while he’s not one of my types, I decided to give him a shot anyway. Eh… I’m already not interested. His teeth are majorly fucked up yet he’s always smiling! Lol, wtf? And not even a little smile. Nope, a great big ole, full of teeth smile. I looked at his Facebook page the other day and he has over 4000 “friends” and is HEAVILY into sports. Red flags. I’m talking about every single post for 2011 and 2012 he made was sports related. Dude is obsessed. Like there is nothing else going on in his life. In every one of his pictures he’s wearing a team jersey, team hoodie, team beanie. I also noticed that his raggedy teeth have a brown hue. He’s fit, he’s always in the damn gym, but if all you want to talk about is sports you’ve got the wrong girl. I’ll watch…occasionally, and I’ll go into the other room to read and let you watch…occasionally. I’ll even attend live games and enjoy myself. But I will not subject myself to sports 24/7. No sir-ee, Bob. I’m not interested. And it seems that’s all he wants to talk about.
Him: how was your weekend?
Me: Great! I did x, y and z. How was yours?
Him: I watched basketball.
Me: ...Oh, okay :) March Madness, huh?
Him: and the nba.
Me: …
Him: …
I don’t know why some guys want a woman who is just like them, loves every single thing that they love, etc. Women don’t expect men to want mani/pedi’s, to think Anthony Mackie is hot, to be anxious about seeing the latest chick flicks, or want to watch home improvement and decorating shows with us, etcetera. Let me have my interests and I’ll let you have yours. Hell, I’m even open to liking some stuff you like but don’t push me and don’t act like it’s a requirement. It's merely a plus. As long as we’re similar and like-minded that’s all that should matter. Don’t force your shit on me and be devastated if I don’t love it. I am not you with a vagina.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Saturday
Sometimes i wake up so excited about living that i dont know where to begin. Today is one of those days :) Theres so much to see, to do, so many places to go, so many things to wear, to buy, so many delicious options! but just one day to do it all. *sigh
Tomorrow I am meeting two of my dearest friends to commemorate one of their birthdays. We're getting manicures and a late lunch/early dinner. After that I will go home and start getting prepared for the work week ahead. But today options abound! Carpe diem!
Tomorrow I am meeting two of my dearest friends to commemorate one of their birthdays. We're getting manicures and a late lunch/early dinner. After that I will go home and start getting prepared for the work week ahead. But today options abound! Carpe diem!
Friday, March 2, 2012
Assholes in my midst *sigh
I don’t trust you simply because you exist. Nor do I have a high opinion of you if I don’t even know you. For some reason, there are people who cannot understand this. Upon meeting a person the only things that I know, usually, are their race, gender, and other superficial qualities about them. Things that tend not to matter. These are never enough to warrant my trust or esteem. Let me get to know you, not merely by what you say, but also by how you behave. And don’t rush me to form an opinion because if I am rushed, more than likely my opinion will be that you are an asshole and I don’t like assholes. Simple, right? I’d like to think so, but someone I know can’t seem to get this. He is getting on every last one of my nerves trying to force me to like someone that I don’t, which is making me despise the both of them. And the reason I don’t like this person could very well be because I haven’t had a chance to get to know them. My default setting is not to like a person and then ask questions later. On the contrary, I don’t like you until I’ve been given a reason to like you, based on your character. And until I am given a reason to, you mean absolutely nothing to me. You simply exist. I’ve made note of that, now allow me to form an opinion of your existence, mkay? Sheesh.
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