As much as I don’t give a damn about the royal wedding, it’s still a reminder of the kool-aid that I drank as a youth that makes me want romance in my life. I currently have none and it sucks, to be frank. It is the equivalent of eating food with no taste, dancing to silence, living in black and white when you KNOW damn well that color exists. I am not in a good place right now. I need loving. And even though I have officially told Daniel/Island Boy to kick rocks, I keep reminiscing on that small slice of romance that he gave me. Oh, it was super brief but it touched me in a special way and I don’t want to get over it. I’m hitting the beach and the town this weekend hoping that I stumble upon some more of it in some form or fashion. Whereas I’d usually opt to wear a big, flowing, comfy dress to the beach, I’ve decided to rock a bikini top and shorts, instead. I need to improve my odds. And then I have my Las Vegas and Costa Rica trips coming up so I’ve been power walking and jogging and stair climbing every chance I get. I refuse to look like a tired, portly, middle-aged mother. It’s been more than 6 months since my face has had an after-sex glow and I’m looking dismal, dammit.

Stupid Technology

You know those mountains that you can see from the 210 freeway in Pasadena, just above the Rose Bowl? See picture above. I was stuck in the middle of them a few weeks ago thanks to my stupid Global Positioning System, or gps satellite navigation system. I was on my way back from Lancaster, CA when Daria, the voice of my gps, told me to exit the freeway and take Angeles

Crest Drive home. Having never driven on Angeles Crest Drive and only a general idea of where I was going, I had no idea what I was in for. The two-lane road began to wind and a few cars and a motorcycle zipped past me as I crept along safely in anticipation, wondering where the hell I was going. Then the windy two-lane road became a cliff and there was no chance of safely turning back. I looked at the touch screen on my gps and it said I had 25 miles to go. Dios mio, I thought (sometimes I think in Spanish) but I trucked along, nevertheless, hoping it wouldn't be as bad as it seemed. No dice.

I passed small creeks, snow and ice warning signs, nature preserves, lots of mighty old trees, and lots and lots of forest over the cliff beside me. I thought about my under-inflated tires and kicked myself for not taking care of them before I’d left home. But I was glad I’d at least filled my gas tank up in Lancaster before leaving, because the prices were much better than they were near my house.

As Daria droned on about how many more miles I had to go, I was tempted to throw her out the window and into the abyss, but I knew I needed her and was only slightly thankful that I was able to get satellite

reception way up in the middle of desolation. Yes, I was unhappy but determined to get home and meet my two wonderful friends, Patty and Becky for Becky’s birthday lunch at Souplantation. She really digs that place. But I couldn’t call either of them to let them know that I’d be late because my cellphone had no reception, whatsoever. If I had fallen off a cliff, gotten a flat, or run out of gas up there, I would have been shit out of luck because I couldn’t call a soul for help. My AAA membership would have been useless to me. I would have had to hope and pray that a Paul Bunyun-type or a tree hugger happened along to find me.
Anyhow, I’m picking up speed now, desperate to get back to civilization, worried about what lay ahead, when suddenly a family in a gigantic SUV pulls out of a nature preserve right in front of me and decides that it is unsafe to drive faster than 15 mph. It wasn’t snowing, there was no rain, and the roads weren’t slick, so in my anxious mind there was absolutely no need to be driving that slowly. I waited until I felt it was safe and then I sped around them, driving on the wrong side of the road. The guy behind the wheel laid on the horn like I was supposed to wait for him to take his precious time getting to his destination. Psht-ah! I ignored him and kept right along with 10 miles between me and the freeway, according to Daria. I got all the way up to the top of the canyon, ready for victory and relief…only to find that the @#$%^&* road was closed! I was livid, cursing at Daria and cursing at the construction workers who weren’t on duty to hear me. I turned my car around and Daria gave me an alternate route to get home: drive back down the mountain about 15 miles and take Upper Big Tujunga Canyon Road. So I did that, speeding past two other slow moving cars (I was doing about 45, 30 around the curves) and then a bunny ran across the road in front of me and was almost road kill. He’s lucky his little bunny legs were fast because I had no intention of slowing down. I would not have mourned his death. The miles counted down and pretty soon my cell phone got a few bars of reception. I called Patty to let her know where I was and that I’d be late. If anyone could relate to my adventure, it’d be her. She’s not allowed to drive anywhere without her gps. Once, she drove past Disneyland, which is more than 50 miles away from her home, and proclaimed “hey, I didn’t know we lived by Disneyland!” So for Christmas her three brothers bought her a gps.
Now in familiar territory, I turned Daria off and took the 134 freeway into Pasadena, thanking God for my safety. Later on I told my mother what happened and, after she chastised me for putting my faith in technology, she told me about a family she saw on the news that had gone missing in the forest. Turns out they had slid off Angeles Crest Road one winter and the father froze to death trying to walk in the snow to find help. The mother was able to keep her three children alive for a while with her breast milk. If you ever want to be scared straight about anything, my mom is the queen of doomsday stories.

Real life doomsday stories my mom may know:

http://losangeles.cbslocal.com/2011/04/11/motorcyclist-dies-after-crash-in-angeles-national-forest/

http://articles.latimes.com/2011/apr/04/local/la-me-hiker-search-20110404

http://www.scpr.org/news/2010/07/26/cliff-diver-found-unconscious-angeles-national-for/

http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/lanow/2009/11/body-found-in-angeles-national-forest.html

http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/lanow/2010/09/south-gate-elementary-teacher-death.html

He is not the exception

My brother is kind of great. Today he confirmed what I already knew but couldn't admit to myself. He told me that island boy was full of shit. The last three conversations with island boy lasted less than ten minutes, all three ended with him stating that he'd call me back, and then he waited more than a couple of days to do just that. This last time, he waited a week. And then Friday night he called and I pressed "reject" on my cell phone to stop the ringing. So he promptly called right back and I just let it ring until it rolled to voicemail. He didnt leave a message. The following morning he called again at 8am. This time I answered. He said that he had called me twice the night before ("yes, I noticed") and if I hadn't picked up the next morning he would have figured I was done with him. Now I'm wishing I hadn't picked up. However, then I wouldn't have known for certain that he wasn't shit because he gave me no explanation for his being MIA for a week and then he ended the call after less than ten minutes stating, you guessed it, that he'd call me back. Now I have to wait until he does call back for me to tell him not to bother calling ever again. I have it all mapped out in my head, what I'm going to say.
So today I spoke to my big bro and he confirmed my suspicions, even admitting to doing the same thing that island boy is doing, to girls that he wanted to string along. And instantly I felt ten times lighter. It was the confirmation I had needed. Thankfully, I'm getting better at elimination. In this case, I was holding on to three great conversations/times we'd had and ignoring all the red flags since then. For one, I'm pretty sure he has a steady girlfriend. And even if he doesnt the rest of the flags are pretty bad and can stand on their own. Sometimes it takes experiencing what we don't want in order to know for sure that we don't want it, lol. In dealing with island boy I've realized a few more things about myself. I need more attention than I thought I did. I don't have to receive a phone call everyday, but every three days at the latest until we've built a foundation, or when you say you'll call, you'd damn sure better. I need someone who values their word, who is closer to me than a four hour drive or 45 minute flight away, whose every word I can understand and, if I can't, takes the time to ensure that I do, who cares enough that I do. I've also accepted that I love chivalry a whole lot more than I thought I did. In fact, I have to have it. It's a requirement. That's about the only thing island boy got right...in the beginning. He is no longer Mr. Right Now. He is history. Officially, when he decides to call back so that I can tell him because I refuse to call him :)

Yesterday my nephew allegedly spotted Michael Jackson on Hollywood Blvd. Not an impersonator but THE Michael Joseph Jackson. He has his days. For the most part he’s happy, practically manic, which is better than before when all he did was cry, mope around, and look spacey. His mom, my mom, and my step father were accompanying him to a group therapy session when he told the therapist that nothing was wrong with him, that his mother was his “motherfucking problem.” I honestly can’t say that I entirely disagree with him either. But at this point, whether he admits to it or not, the problem is definitely his and his mother is now a victim of it. So after he cursed at the therapist, he walked outside and yelled “there goes Michael Jackson!” then took off down the street with my mother chasing behind him. I saw him this past weekend and he seemed fine. There were a few moments where he seemed a little confused, but he didn’t scare me like before when he would just stare at me, waiting for instruction because he was unsure of what to do next. A lot has happened since last December, when he was perfectly fine. His girlfriend not only dumped him but she had a serious vendetta against him. His mother decided she no longer wanted him living with her, so she put him out in the pouring rain and tossed all of his belongings in the garbage behind her apartment building. He walked 4 miles in the rain that night to my mothers’ house and spent the following few weeks despondent. When my mother went out of town for the weekend, he left with “the devil”, the guy who my family took in when he was 12 (see my Christmas Sleepover post). He’s always been jealous of my nephew so I wasn’t surprised to learn that he’d given him crystal meth to try and then let him wander around L.A. alone for two days. When my mother returned from her trip she received a frantic call from my nephew’s best friend saying that he’d shown up at his house in the middle of the night, dazed and confused, and then disappeared again. The devil’s story was inconsistent. He still hasn’t told the full truth. Anyway, we found my nephew when he showed up at his mothers’ front door, and for days after that he was severely depressed and suicidal. He ended up being committed for about 4 days and has been improving steadily since his release. My mother remains everyone’s hero. Without her, none of us would have survived this. I believe that had he been my own son, I probably would have been better equipped to deal with it. But he wasn’t and although I love him dearly, I couldn’t handle him being sick at all. I didn’t know where to begin to help him and it was killing me to feel so hopeless. He’s 19 years old and our relationship has always been surface; nothing ever too close but as close as most extended family members are to one another. I could talk to him by phone, tell him I loved him and would always be there for him, buy him things to help keep his mind from wandering, but I couldn’t deal with him face to face for too long without feeling immense stress. We played pool and talked while he was committed but when he wanted to come and spend the night at my house, I panicked. I think we all panicked in the beginning, save for my mother who just dove right in and kept us all from falling apart. She was clearly worried sick and was crying every day, but it didn’t paralyze her like it did the rest of us. She is truly everyone’s hero. About 10 times a day he tells her he loves her.

We’re all doing a lot better now. He seems to be 90% back to his old self, thankfully. It's a happy and hopeful ending.

I’m finally at a place in my life where I don’t feel particularly antsy or worried about whether or not I’ll make it. I feel fairly secure financially, and very confident in my ability to accomplish my goals. Should anything unexpected occur, I will remain on track. I’m proud of myself. All my planning has paid off. In addition, my son will be graduating from high school next year and we’ll both be moving on to the next chapter of our lives, which is exciting. When I reminisce on where we were 5-10 years ago, I am thrilled with the progress that we’ve made. 90% of those goals from yesterday are accomplished today. And I’m excited about getting closer to reaching my other goals.

This weekend I picked my family up so that they could help me get my front and back yards in order. It took us about 2 hours, with my stepfather doing most of the work, but now my house looks lived in and not abandoned lol. I’m so thankful for them.

On Saturday I was supposed to go out with my “Stuck in the 80s” friend as a rain check from last weekend, but she flaked on me. It was her suggestion that we go to this lounge a friend of hers had told her about so when we spoke and she acted annoyed, saying she’d “definitely” call me back and wouldn’t dream of flaking on me because she insisted she’s “not a flake,” I took her at her word. That is until 9pm rolled around and she still hadn’t called me back, not even to cancel. Now here it is Monday and still no word from her. But she swears she’s not a flake. Now, even if she has the worst memory on Earth, surely it occurred to her at some point between Saturday morning and Monday morning that she hadn’t followed up with me, not even via text message, which leaves me to assume that she is, indeed, a huge, disrespectful flake and cannot ever again be relied upon. She’s seen my last effort towards trying to get her petrified-to-live-ass out of the house. As far as I’m concerned, she can spend another 30 years indoors, up under her mother, God willing. I really don’t need another charity case. This is, for the most part, why I prefer to roll solo, rather than drag someone else along or have to deal with mixed interests.

My coworker wants me to go to Ibiza with her, saying “it’s the land of house music!” as if that would elicit excitement from me. I forced a grin not to be rude but I actually hate house music, ha. I guess because I’ve tolerated it while out dancing with her she just figured I liked it, but no. I’ve had my fill of it and don’t think I can stand another night out listening to it and expecting to want to dance to it. To me, house music is for the rhythm less, those who cannot dance so they merely bop along to a simple, repetitive “oontz oontz oontz” beat. It’s nerve wracking at best. So when she first said “hey! Let’s go to the Caribbean together” I thought she meant someplace where they play reggae and calypso (I don’t care much for calypso either, but I can deal with it), not house music. Ugh. I’m wondering if I should just keep my mouth closed and just go for the overall experience, hoping for the best. I mean, aside from the music, how horrible could Ibiza really be? I’ve added it in pencil to my bucket list. *Edit: I just realized that Ibiza isn't even in the Caribbean. She meant the Mediterranean. smh.

Talk about coming to the end of a wave, I’ve crashed. I feel so flat today. Nothing excites me, nothing interests me, and there is nothing that I’m looking forward to, aside from lying in bed and watching movies all day. I’m just bored and unmotivated. I’m even a little annoyed. I hope my mood changes by tomorrow.

Back to Earth

I'm grounded. It's been one week since my urban Cinderella date and the clouds have cleared. His accent is beginning to get on my nerves and I'm beginning to forget why I liked him. In this case, absence does not make the heart grow fonder. I think what won me over was the chivalry. I hadn't been treated with so much care in such a while, and the feeling was certainly missed. I wanted to hold on to that feeling for as long as I could, and I did. He was very much a gentleman and these days, they're hard to come by, especially in Los Angeles. I went to a club on Friday night with a friend (I'm officially off clubs, by the way) and towards the end of the night I found an empty corner to sit down and rest my aching feet. While sitting there a young couple came and sat across from me. Their body language was so completely off. She was catering to him and he was acting as though she didn't matter, texting on his phone while she patiently waited for his next move. Then he suddenly got up without saying a word and walked away and she followed behind him like a puppy. No hand holding, no affection, no respect. This is what it's come to in L.A. I had to go all the way to Las Vegas to find out that purple elephants do exist. That night in the club I watched another couple talking and after about 15 minutes of what seemed like a getting to know each other conversation, the guy disappeared and left the girl with his friend to be babysat. I never did see him return to her. Eventually, she left.

I've no idea what, if anything, will come of me and Island boy. At this point, I'm chalking it up as a really great experience and the realization that what I want can be obtained. For now, I think I've come to the end of my wave.

All week I've been listening to this song and smiling. It's perfect for how I'm feeling.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1AJmKkU5POA

Still with one foot in the clouds

He was looking at flights last night to come and visit. I am continually surprised by him *knock on wood. I guess I’m just not accustomed to this sort of treatment. I said to myself the other night that he was most definitely not Mr. Right, but he’ll do as Mr. Right Now. But then last night I had my doubts...again. I wondered if maybe he did have a little longevity about him. This uncertainty of mines could be because I haven’t had a lot of adult dating experience, having been in a very long term relationship since my teens. But he’s much more different than my ex and any man I’ve dated since and before. He’s so open and unpretentious, I find myself worried that he may decide he doesn’t really like me after all, just when I’m discovering that I like him so much. This is only an experiment, of course. I have no better point of reference to compare him to but he’s pushing my ex and all of the rest right out of the water. I love that he believes in chivalry, and he practices it often. I love that he’s not afraid to tell me embarrassing things about himself, that he's funny, and that he’s not blatantly interested in sex with me. He doesn’t talk about it at all, he never even hints about it, yet somehow I know he’s interested. He seems to want me to know him and now I'm eager for him to know me. I find myself wanting to give him more, undress my mind for him, lay down my cares, lie up all day and marvel the world by his side. This is odd and I like it. I like it a lot. Beginnings are always nice, right?

My ex had his strong suits, and I appreciated them. But he was my first everything so it took me a while to realize precisely what I wanted and what he couldn't give me. What he was lacking, Island Guy seems to have, for the most part. We're only 3 strong conversations in so there's plenty of time to learn more. Right now I am in desperate need of a nap because I stayed up late, once again, on the phone with him, my Island Guy. I feel like I can tell him anything and he won't miss a beat. He's told me so much about himself in just a few conversations. What's bugging me is that he doesn't live here. I know I can't predict the future or where we'll end up, but that part is killing the controlling part of my personality a little. I'm just going to take a leap and enjoy this while it lasts. For however long it lasts. I have no idea how much time I have left on Earth to enjoy these sorts of things so I'm all in, lol. What a surprise he is! I never expected to meet *him when I did, or that I'd enjoy myself so much. Wish me luck!

I kissed a boy

And I really liked it. It was the juiciest, softest, most electrifying smooch I’ve had in a very long time, sans saliva, and I really want to do it again. He’s from Jamaica and we met Friday night when I hobbled over to valet in my 5 inch stilettos, my feet in agony, my ribs feeling claustrophobic from the boa-constrictor of a bustier I was wearing and dying to change out of, and my face grimacing. He asked me why I wasn't smiling, or something to that effect. He was waiting for valet to bring his car around too. We started talking and the next thing I knew I was putting my phone number into his cell phone. We spoke again briefly that night and I asked him to call me the following day. We talked the following day and he called me no less than 6 times from noon to sometime after midnight telling me about himself and trying to arrange another meeting with me. I was reluctant at first, not wanting to go out with him alone in a strange town, but my friend promised to go with me, convincing me to give him a chance and I’m so glad I did.

Kissing him at 5am on Sunday morning felt like kissing for the very first time and he was its inventor. His arms were around my waist, his chest pressed against mine, mouth to mouth, and neither of us wanted to let the other go when it was over. So we stood there for a while, in that embrace, comparing our height – he’s 6’3, I’m 5’9. We both agreed the other was the perfect height. But it was 5am and I needed to get some sleep before Keisha and I made the long trip home.

He was sweet and attentive and VERY intelligent. I had the best conversation with him that I’ve had with a guy in a long time and it was most definitely a turn on. Did I mention he was fine? Djimon Honsou better watch his back. This guy has perfectly smooth dark chocolate skin, bald head, 6'3, chiseled chest (I could see and feel all that through his shirt when we hugged and he wouldn't let me go), straight white teeth, full unchapped lips... He wasn't too pushy and never was he rude, but he was clearly interested in me and persistent and very much a gentleman even after I tried giving him the brush off. We spent the evening talking about Jamaican politics, culture, religion, plans for the future, philosophy, money, giving back, marriage…it was great! I love to hear a man talk about something he loves or is passionate about. When I say “tell me about yourself,” and he does, I’m over the moon with joy. A man who does this correctly doesn’t hem and haw and try to hide himself from me, he goes all in, confident, no reservations. And if he can do it well, in English, and sane, I’m all eyes and ears. I left home this weekend with plans for a girls’ get away. Although I’d been hopeful I would return with fond memories, I never expected him. He was such a welcome surprise.