Is Elle Decor trying to tell me something?!

http://www.elledecor.com/design-decorate/trends/trend-alert-the-glamour-of-india-amber-palace#slide-1

Like, maybe I should've signed up for the trip to Jaipur? Ugh. But it's over $5k! How do I justify that with a mortgage, a dog, and a kid trying to make it on his own two hours away from me? :( I wish money grew on the tree in my backyard. I took one look at the title of the above article and said aloud "Shut up!" That's how much I believe that I was meant to go to India (signs are everywhere!) but I can't make myself spend $5k (of which I don't really have so it would be a borrowed $5k on an already-jam-packed credit card) to go. Double UGH.  This stinks.

The Spring Yard Sale cometh! I think I’m going to make it a ritual to de-clutter my home and have a yard sale with the resultant clutter every spring.  It would be a great way to feng shui the house, clear my mind, and earn some cash in the process. I much prefer a minimalist’s existence yet all of the stuff I’ve accumulated in the last 5 years is preventing me from having that. Too many things I don’t wear, too many household items, too many books I don’t read, stuff I don’t need. All of which will make this yard sale epic!  I can’t even imagine selling all of it in one weekend.  I’m going to probably have to have TWO sales!  Giggity! My mom keeps bugging me about cleaning out my garage and selling some of that unused stuff, but she’s only interested in a wicker nightstand that’s stuffed way back in there. She aint slick. She thinks I don’t know what her motive is.  My motive, however, is to focus on my immediate living quarters, first.  The garage will be second, after I clear my house out.  Whatever I don’t sell will be donated to charity &/or sold online.  Sunday night is when I officially get started preparing.

The south is chock full of history. It looks as though the dirt from a hundred years ago is still covering everything. Broken sidewalks and streets, overgrown vegetation – even growing on roof tops! Like, in abundance! – ancient buildings and cemeteries…it’s all been preserved down in New Orleans, completely un-renovated. I traveled down to that time warp last Friday and tried to take it all in about 4 days. Somehow, I managed to walk the French Quarter, the French Market, took a stroll down Pirates Alley, saw super-duper old buildings (still with the dust of 1770 on them), majestic St. Louis Cathedral, strong and proud Congo Square in Louis Armstrong Park, we haunted St. Louis Cemetery Number 1, drove through some of the Garden District, traipsed up and down Magazine Street, the Treme neighborhood, and ooh’ed and aw’ed at the stunning beauty of Tulane University and its surrounding mansions. Home base was the Loews Hotel, which was a real treat. Our room was on the 19th floor overlooking the Mighty Muddy Mississippi River and the Natchez Steamboat with its daily musical toots. And, to my delight, I walked out of my hotel room Sunday night headed to dinner and ran into actor Derek Luke by the elevators. I think he was surprised that I actually knew his name and didn’t mistake him for Omar Epps, like most of the non-black people he encountered did. He thought I was a fellow celebrity because I confidently addressed him by name when I saw him. He said “You said my name like you knew me.” Well, because I do know him. He’s the actor that played Antwone Fisher and Sticks, not the guy from Love and Basketball. We talked for a nice little while and he told me about his brief walk down Bourbon St the prior night where he encountered a topless, titty-glittered woman, and that he’d lived in Pasadena for 15 years before moving. Then we took a picture together and his wife rushed us on our way, lol. But that was more exciting than I would’ve thought it’d be. I beamed for hours afterward. I stood shoulder to shoulder with a beautiful dark chocolate man and resisted the urge to ask him to “hug my neck, n*@#A!” So major.
No one puts money into New Orleans except, maybe, Brad Pitt. The sidewalks are all broken and everything is crumbling and filthy. With all that tourist money and all those McMansions, nobody sees fit to fix the decrepit city up. Their cabs look like our police cars – black and white. I nicknamed them “copper cabs.” And their cop cars looked like our cabs – blue and green. And for some reason, every other flat-assed white woman had on a pair of cheap rhinestone-pocketed jeans, and every other black man had a thick, neat, head full of dread locks, a la Lil Wayne. This was the first time in my life that I couldn’t tell one brother from another.
The weather was schizophrenic. Our first day was overcast and warm. The second day was cool with sudden rain from the wee hours of the day until about noon when it suddenly turned into a sauna. We had to go back to our hotel to change clothes. That evening it was raining bizarrely. Despite having an umbrella, my entire body was wet after just walking a block. Mist was flying in all directions, rendering my umbrella worthless. The third day was super windy and cool. The wind literally blew our car doors out of our hands upon opening them. And on the fourth day, it was 30 degrees and windy as hell.
The food in New Orleans is overrated. Yep, I said it. California doesn’t get the credit it deserves, apparently, because we are leaps and bounds better than NOLA in many areas, including cuisine. The first night we ate at Luke’s, which was a nice establishment but severely overpriced, overhyped, and lacking just a tiny bit in quality. First, we ordered raw oysters. The black guy shucking them said “I can tell y’all aint from here,” to which I replied “why, because of our accents?” and he said “Naw, because y’all eating them thangs” referring to our raw oysters with a scowl. According to him and his other black coworkers, black folks don’t eat shellfish…but they DO eat turtle soup and alligator. Never mind the fact that alligators will eat virtually anything and the more rotten it is the better. These guys had the nerve to turn their noses up high at our oysters as if they were the slime of the sea, and were confused about us eating them. I’ll have to say the feeling was mutual because I wasn’t about to put alligator or turtle in my mouth. Gross! So we had raw oysters at Luke’s, which were fine, and we ate fried oysters there, too, which weren’t properly seasoned. Some were over seasoned and some were under seasoned. Like, we could see the salt on a few of them. Then, the shrimp we ordered hadn’t been peeled. For the price we paid, I expected the shrimp to be peeled already. It was reminiscent of a Las Vegas buffet where all the cheap shrimp is piled high and ready to be peeled and eaten, except the price is much less in Vegas. Then it got worse. I had a $10 bowl of gumbo from Café Adelaide’s that was like liquid lead on my belly, way too much roux. Although, the cheesecake at Café Adelaide was very good and the apple caramel pancakes at The Ruby Slipper were worth the money, as well. Deanie’s was, by far, the worst yet had the largest crowd. Our waitress plopped a bowl of boiled red potatoes and butter down on our table and my travel companion asked “what are we supposed to do with those?” lol. “Ya jus eat em,” the waitress replied. We didn’t. No one wanted to bite into a boiled red potato with skin and all. When our food finally arrived we sat back in bewilderment as every single thing on the plate was fried! And, we discovered, without seasoning. Just batter and lard all tasting like a flavorless melancholy heart attack. Everything was rolled in the same unseasoned batter and deep fried with the same grease, sitting on top of a mass of oily French fries. Frying is clearly there preference for all things edible. Oh, and the crab claws that we ordered were each no bigger than 3 inches long, one inch wide, and swimming in oil… for $15. Turns out, blue crabs are the southern crab of choice (this wasn’t stated on the menu though. We thought we were getting a regular-sized batch of crab claws) and they weren’t in season yet so they were smaller than average. I’ve had bigger, fresher, and much better local crab at Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco for $6…FOR THE WHOLE DAMN CRAB PLUCKED RIGHT FROM THE OCEAN, not just its claws. But all in all, I enjoyed my time away from home and the culture I got to witness was worth the brief excursion. I highly doubt I’ll ever be back. I came, saw, and I appreciated them keeping things just as they were centuries ago so I could see it all.
Pictures soon come!

NOLA

I leave in the morning J and I couldn’t be happier. Just got a few more ends to tie before I hop on that plane to N’awlins.  I already feel my soul exhaling, ready for a break.  I need this trip. And many more like it, actually. I rather enjoy living my life and all the possibilities it holds. Doing the same thing day in and day out is for lab rats and pet hamsters.  I was made for much more. So I’m about to fly out of here and go see and do New Orleans for a few days. And when I get home, I’m dismantling my house in the name of spring cleaning. Out with the old, in with the new and improved.

I’m finally embarrassed by my phone. It’s nothing fancy-schmancy, just a Samsung “something-or-other” that isn’t “smart” and has a full keyboard for typing out text messages. Maybe it even has a 1 mega pixel camera that I never use. But all I’ve ever needed it to do was ring, make calls, and send and receive text messages here and there. I never needed a bell or a whistle, so I thought I’d keep it until it wouldn’t work any longer. It was fully serving its purpose. But now that everyone and their grandmama’s are yapping on, posting pictures from, and raving about their “smart” phones, I feel a little self-conscious whenever I whip out my Samsung. Ugh. The pressure to conform sucks swampy duck balls. It’s like driving a Ford Pinto to the prom when everyone else rolls up in a party bus limo, complete with a shiny stripper pole, you know, in case someone gets the uncontrollable urge to strip. They’ll have that option. It’s like my old 4th generation ipod that was recently stolen out of my car. It had several bells and whistles yet all I did was play music on it. Who has time for all those doo-dads? It was a chore just to update my playlists. Aint nobody (with a job and a life) got time for that.
I hate this. With a new phone I may have to get a data plan, which means my $50 a month will rise somewhere around the vicinity of $90 a month. The fuck!?!? No. Fuck these people and their dumb ass, flashy, pointless phones. I will be whipping out my Pinto phone until the screen goes dead or I can no longer make a call on it.

It's been almost a month and now he decides to talk to me. I'd never really given him much thought. I mean, I noticed him the very first day - one of two black guys in the entire class, except the other guy is clearly gay and impoverished - but I shrugged, took a seat and focused on what I'd come there to learn.  He didn't look like the type who typically approaches someone like me so it never occurred to me that he might be interested until yesterday when he decided to sit next to me and talk to me - with only two more classes to go and I'll miss one of them while vacationing in New Orleans.
Caught me completely off guard (what's new, right? lol) so I really didn't know how to behave or what to think so I over-thought and got nervous...naturally. I wish I could say that I'm this suave, super confident vixen but she doesn't show up until the butterflies dissipate. He's cute. He looks young though. I suspect that maybe I have about 7-10 years on him, which is another reason I'd never given him a second thought. From memory, I'd say he stands about 6 feet, give or take. He wears glasses sometimes, too... chocolate brown, not dark chocolate, and fit.  One of those body's that make you swear his mama must be large breasted and husky.  A Roger Thomas mama.  Mandingo's son.  You know what I mean? And he's articulate, and he looks me directly in my eyes without turning away.  I turn away, though cause my vixen isn't sure it's safe to come out yet.  I hope I'm not sending him the wrong message.  Either way, there's only one more class left where I'll see him so if we don't get to speak then...that'll be that. Another guy I'll wonder about.
So yesterday when he decided to talk to me about class and the test and other mundane stuff, I didn't end up staying long enough to see where it might have gone, if anywhere.  I had to leave in the middle of class, right after the test and he smiled at me as I stood up suddenly and left. Who's to say why he chose that day to sit by me, though? Maybe he just wanted to chat about class and I looked like someone he could comfortably chat with. It could be that he's not interested in anything other than what he got yesterday - a brief conversation.  Whatever his motives were I have to say it felt great not to be shunned.  See, me and black men, our history is either they come on too strong or they shun me like a leper.  It's a very rare occasion that my brothers are simply friendly with me just because.  So I come to expect one or the other - thirst or feigned disgust.  A few years back I'd signed up for an Adobe Creative Suite class and the instructor happened to be a black man.  He never looked me in the eye when speaking to me, was always very unfriendly, and when one of his colleagues - another black man - visited the class one day while I was at his desk asking him a question, the friend made a big deal about him being a married man, laughing and telling him he'd better be a "good boy."  The fuck? I was so very angry that day, I wanted to stab them both in the eyes with my car keys.
Anyway, I don't even know this guys name but now he's got me thinking about him whereas before I'd forget he exists until Saturdays rolled around and I'd see him in class. I do hope he's interested in more than my conversation, though. I'd love to spend this spring/summer getting to know him.

It’s official; I hate people. The ones who can’t drive, the ones who don’t say “please” or “thank you” or “good morning,” or "bless you, "the ones who feel entitled, the ones who expect you to play an inferior role, the ones who discriminate, the ones who lie, cheat, and steal…yeah, I hate them all. In January, I got up early to go to a spa appointment I’d set for 8am and it turned out to be the best day I’ve had in years mostly because I didn’t have so many people to deal with since I’d gotten up earlier than the majority. I think I’m going to make that a habit. Go to bed early, rise early. There are just too many gatdamn people in this city and the vast majority of them are assholes. I’m working on a project with a group in a class that I’m taking at UCLA on Saturday’s – two Asian women, one white man, a black woman, and me. We are currently working on our second project and these people have become the bane of my existence. For some reason, the bald, fuzzy-armed white guy thinks it’s okay to be rude to me, one of the Asian girls is a know-it-all who doesn’t know shit, and the black woman is an absent-minded, old idiot. She actually volunteered to turn in our first project AND THEN FORGOT TO TURN IT IN! She didn’t tell us until a week later. How the hell do you volunteer to do the easiest job after having contributed NOTHING to the overall project…and then you forget to hand it in for credit!?!?! This class cannot be over soon enough. And earlier this week, I told my co-worker about free “lunch-meeting” food before the housekeeping staff placed it in the kitchen as a “free-for-all,” and this b*tch didn’t even thank me. Yet she was in there, Johnny on the Spot, fixing her and someone else a plate. That’s the last time I do that.
Everyone and everything is annoying me and I’m sure it shows. I would blame this on pms but that was supposed to be over a week ago (maybe there are some hormonal remnants?) All I know, is that I can’t wait until my vacation begins next week. New Orleans better be ready for me.

I saw this on a website I frequent and just had to share it...

The rain is always welcome. And on weeks like this one it is such a respite from all the stress and anxiety I’ve been feeling. It’s as though rain water washes it all away. It clears the air; it helps all life to grow. It’s sort of like Gods way of forcing us to slow down and start over. Not that many people listen and take heed, especially on the freeways out here, lol. But hard heads make for soft asses when somewhere down the road their car is totaled. I am starting over. The week hasn’t quite ended but every day is a new chance to begin anew and I aim to do that today. I’m clearing my head of nonsense and static and focusing on what behooves me. Maybe I’ll take Axl for a walk this afternoon when I get home, then after that I’ll let my creative juices flow for a spell before I pray and head to bed. Let the right side of my brain heal the left. It’s cathartic.

I’ve been thinking a lot about India. Googling Jaipur, its crime statistics and weather, cultural customs, and traveling there as a woman. But I think, at this point, it’d be in my best interest to spend that 5k elsewhere. It would be just my luck that I book this nonrefundable trip and my house breaks while I’m abroad in India. I look at money a lot differently these days. Saving it is essentially losing it since it’s not growing in a bank account anywhere near the rate of inflation. It’s just mental security, really. So I’m going to invest more. I’ve been dumping money here and there into my mutual fund and, thankfully, the price of shares has steadily risen. Last night it was at about $50 a share. Not bad, but not great. I have to get over my fear of investing in the big stocks but before I do that I have to get over my laziness and read a few balance sheets. What a chore! I’ll do it though because it’s important to me to be financially stable. It’s been a goal of mine since forever and it’s about time I upped my ante. If I ever want to realize my dream of buying a home in Hawaii I have to focus and quit goofing around with nonsense. I’ve been letting too much chaos enter my mind, too many people without good intentions, too many toxic emotions being absorbed. I need “om” like a motherfucker. I’m cutting out most meats and sugars too. That’s going to be hard as hell but I have to do it. Come April I will resume my weekly walks to the farmers market for fruit, veggies, and maybe free range chicken. Who am I kidding? Of course, free range chicken. And other than free range yard bird I’ll continue to eat grains, shrimp, and some farm raised fish. I’ve thought about growing all my own but I really don’t have the time for that just yet. I’m also trying to get used to living alone. I’ve never lived alone in my life and this is truly weird for me. It’s a bit scary and I worry that it will be permanent. Well, at least until my mother gets too old to live on her own and comes to live with me. I’ve been trying to keep busy so that I keep my mind off of it but I often don’t even want to leave the house once I get there. I was supposed to meet a group for coffee last night and I just couldn’t find the stamina to go. That could’ve been due to my pms. It is truly a curse.

I really want to go to India.  I need the escape, and flying to the “mecca” of block printing and learning from one of the best would be sublime.  But it’ll cost me upwards of 5k to go on this trip and I don’t know if I want to go to India that bad.  Maybe if it were being taught in Italy or Greece I’d be more enthusiastic. India smells, according to my Indian friends, and "the pink city" of Jaipur doesn’t really appeal to me. Maybe if it were in Goa, I’d go.  Goa looks beautiful and a whole lot more interesting. Jaipur is smack dab in the middle of the country, stinky, crowded, and hot. I wish I had the patience to endure such a trip and meet Lotta Jansdotter, but I really don’t think I can do 8 days there.  It sucks because it would be an awesome trip anywhere else in the world.  I’ve made up my mind that I will be going to New Orleans, then Vegas, then Bora Bora (or Italy), in that order. However, French Polynesia will be a couple of years out from now. I’m going back to school first.  Now that my son is officially a “big boy” and trying his hand at adulthood, I’m feeling particularly shackle-less. I’m ready to rise up and slowly strip out of my leather body suit and sing “Brand New Day” a la The Wiz.  Not that it wasn’t a joy to raise him; just that raising him took a hell of a long time to do. So this summer I will have plenty of time to decompress from years of motherhood. I suspect I won’t be going to the grocery store but once a month, instead of 3 times a month or twice if I go to Costco. And I will be buying all of the things that I like to eat and need to eat. Almond milk…LOTS of fruit and vegetables…none of that bullshit junk food that picky young adults who don’t know any better like to eat, like boxed mac and cheese. SMH.  He’d always give me grief whenever I made lentils, spinach, or brussel sprouts. Whenever there’s healthy food in the house he practically starves to death. But never mind all that because he will be buying his own groceries 2 hours away from me! I’m turning his room into my creativity room/office space. I’m thinking of also displaying my shoes in there. I’ve also thought of turning his bed into a Murphy bed for guests, but we’ll see.  I just need to unwind in the worst way. Three weeks until take off and I can sink my teeth into a crawfish beignet!

F*ck these frogs! ...in the *ss!

I hate to admit it but my feelings are kind of hurt. When and where did I give him the impression that I was a whore? A dumb, thirsty whore at that. Perhaps it’s my pms that’s making me think these things (woo sahhhh!) but I just can’t get over the facts as they’re currently laid before me. Part of me wants to curse him out so badly his ears bleed. But another part of me is thinking that maybe I should give the benefit of a doubt, maybe it’s not what it seems and I’m overreacting. Either way, I’m sitting here with hurt feelings and no clarity, which is no good. Every time I decide to give a guy a chance, I get let down royally. The day after I told the 50 year old that he was too old to be so exasperating and that perhaps he shouldn’t date, he sent me an email saying his phone broke so if I messaged him he didn’t receive it. Oh, really? I decided to ignore him but he messaged me again a day later, saying he needed my phone number. And, again, I ignored him. Then he sent me yet ANOTHER message saying “I’m trying to reach you…” to which I replied “at this point I don’t believe it’s meant to be.” And he responded with “k…”

Why me? Why are all the men I meet such conniving scallywags? Do men who aren’t conniving scallywags even exist anymore? Sheesh! This is why I’ve been forced into celibacy! I just can’t put myself through the torture of bedding the wrong man. I’m not even particularly hard on these guys but they make it so difficult to suffer through them. A saner woman would have been done with the 50 year old a week sooner than I was. But not me, nope, I had to give “the poor guy” a chance. I’m all out of patience now, though. Anyway, I’m offended and today, right now, I hate men.

My cloud landed sometime last week.  I’m still in good spirits but I’m no longer petal open.  Reality has set in.  The other day I realized why I am often apprehensive about dating outside of my race and culture.  It’s because I need the person I will potentially fall in love with to respect me and my background.  The people before me, around me, they made me, they are me.   Like a set of nesting dolls, these folks are within me.  So for my potential love to disregard them is problematic.  Thus, I am very careful in my choosing.  Years ago The Ex wanted me to forsake my family for him but if I’d done that I’d be alone today.  I sacrificed a lot for him. I essentially lost myself and almost my family for him and I ended up spending years rebuilding the relationships I had with my loves and with me. I won’t do that again.  I don’t want someone who would make me choose between myself and them.  Anyway, clarity has set in and I now know what I should do, what’s in my best interest.  It’s easy to get carried away with the possibilities, though.  Fantasizing about the ‘what if’s’ and what not. And I had a lot of fun doing so but I can’t waste any more time on that. My life is now and I haven’t a minute to spare.