I’ve decided to just toss the obituary. I am moving forward and don’t want any hurtful reminders of my brother’s death, nor any drama with his brother. It is precisely the opposite of what Darryl would have wanted. He told me how strained his relationship w/ his brother had been growing up and even into adulthood, so what I am witnessing isn’t a stretch from what I was led to expect from that man. I should’ve known this when, even in death, he was still bad mouthing my brother. Like, really? Smh, I refuse to get that low. It’s simply a piece of paper and not worth my energy. I have honored my brother’s life in my own way.

In other news, the 50 year old texted me asking whether I wanted a relationship or just sex from him. 0_0 I swear, there’s never a dull moment around here.
I’m thinking of cutting my hair before I leave for New Orleans. I sort of want this hairstyle I saw Sally Richardson with on my friends’ hairdresser’s website. The guy who cut Sally’s hair works on Wilshire so I’ll check on prices and see about him.

I want a Studio Shed so badly

http://studio-shed.com/products/lifestyle-shed/ Some day my dream will come true.

The 50 year old texted me a picture of his naked silhouette. He's really quite taken with himself. And for fifty I cant really blame him, his body is pretty spectacular. Black certainly didnt crack in this instance. Unfortunately, he's not helping me with this long stretch of celibacy I've been enduring. It's kind of crazy, one day I just looked up and it hit me that I hadnt had sex in ages. AGES. And now I have an immature fifty year old taunting with spectacular pecs and abs, the bastard. He is such a tease. But aint nobody got time for that. I refuse to let a senior citizen work me up just to let me down. The hell does he think I am? So I'm refocusing on my master plan, which isnt complete until late summer. There are like so many things swirling around right now, I'm practically dizzy. Stuttering and then belting out all the wrong words. I lay in bed recapping the day like "smh, wth was I thinking?!" Ugh. I need a massage or a facial or something. I'm all out of wack.

I just want to run away today, crawl under a rock and wait until this feeling I’m feeling passes. I can’t really describe it, just that today sucks. It’s a bit of a carryover from yesterday when I received my late brother’s obituary in the mail. He passed away in December and was buried in St Louis. I chose not fly out there to attend his funeral because we don’t share the same family/loved ones. We are half siblings, although he’s always felt completely whole to me and the fact that we looked a lot alike and had the same caring heart just added to that feeling. We had the same father who we both shared an uncanny resemblance to. Anyway, I’d asked for an obituary from his mother, brother, and girlfriend back in January. As a matter of fact, his brother offered to send me one prior to me asking for it a month after not receiving it. His mother and girlfriend offered to send me one, as well. I honestly suspected all along that I wouldn’t be listed as someone he left behind, although his other siblings were – and they were half siblings as well (different fathers, same mother. Though neither of them resemble him in any way. It’s inconsequential, but still). Even his girlfriend of the last 15 months was listed in his obituary as someone he’d left behind. So after I read his obit and my suspicions were confirmed, I simply placed it back into the envelope from wince it came and let it slide off the table onto a chair. I’m considering sending it back, since after 3 months of waiting for it I’d told his brother “Never mind. Don't send it. It can’t replace him anyway. It’s not important that I get one.” Whoever sent it only listed their mailing address, no name. I think it came from his mother, though. It’s true that funerals are for the living. And since I wasn’t in a position to give my brother a funeral I wasn’t going to fly to St. Louis to attend someone else’s dedication to him. Someone I don’t know. Someone he’d told me not-so-great-things about. I couldn’t be comforted by them, people I don’t know, people who couldn’t see it in their hearts to list me as his grieving sister, knowing that I'm both grieving and his sister. So there was really no point. My brother wasn’t there.  And now, I no longer feel like I need to explain any of this to them.  It doesn't matter.

In addition to that happening yesterday, this morning I’ve been fighting the ridiculous fear of liking someone. It is so much easier to lock my heart away, only allowing it out in controlled environments. But I suspect I won’t be able to protect myself from heartbreak for the remainder of my life and that's scary. Here’s what a friend of mine recently had to say on the subject:
Claudine 10:59 AM
the reason why love is such a great thing
is because it's huge ROI
the investment you put in... reaps great rewards you can't imagine.
there's a saying
no eye has seen, no ear has heard, what the lord has planned for his children
something like that
if god is love
then that means no one has seen what love is truly capable of
Claudine 11:01 AM
yeah.. so it's basically.. a leap of faith
if you don't risk getting hurt, you won't know.
think with your heart not your head  

My favorite book is Their Eyes Were Watching God. When Oprah brought it to television I was a bit worried that the story would get overly diluted. And once I saw it I wasn't completely satisfied w/ the result, but I wasn't entirely disappointed either. I gave it a pass because how on earth could something so dynamic be translated into something for my television? Anyway, one of my favorite scenes in that movie was when Janie went to talk to Joe on his deathbed about how he'd spent the majority of their relationship pinning her under with his thumb, worried about her strength and threatened by her freedom, almost as though he resented her. She wasn’t allowed to wear what she wanted, she had to hide her hair and cover her head in a scarf, had to cook and clean a specific way, at a specific time, and couldn’t say what she felt. She was essentially a prisoner in her marriage. I could relate all too well to that. It’s one of the things that I am afraid of having repeated in my life.

Phoebe and Janie are having a conversation and Janie explains why she changed and left.

Phoebe: Joe gived you everything you could want. You're not happy because you expect too much.

Janie: Something fell off the shelf inside me. It was Joe. He tumbled down and shattered.

*Remembering the day Joe died

Joe (labored breathing): Doctor say that I'm dyin'. I guess you come to watch.

Janie: Jody. Maybe I ain't been such a good wife to you. But you gave me everything a woman could ever dream of havin'. And I thank you. But Jody, you and me done been together now for 20 years, and you don't know me half at all.

Joe: I know you.

Janie: You changed from that Jody I run off down the road with. I wanted to keep a house with you in a wonderful way, but you wasn't really satisfied with me the way I was.

Joe: I built a whole town for us. But that ain't good enough for you.

Janie: It was just that my own feelings had to be squeezed and crowded out of me to make room for yours in me.

Joe: Blame everything on me. I don't let you show me no feelin', huh? Janie, that's all I ever wanted.

Janie: Ain't nobody tryin' to blame nothing on you, Joe. But all this bowin' down and obedience, well, it just... It just ain't what I run off down that road with you for.

Joe: Shut up!

Janie: Shut up. Even now, you got to die with me bein' obedient. Instead of lettin' me love you.

Joe: I hope... that thunder and lightnin'... kill you. Now get outta here. Get lost! (gasps)

Janie: Jody?

Poor Jody... Sittin' in that rulin' chair was hard for you too.

(Now speaking again to Phoebe)

Janie: Whatever folks thought of Joe while he was livin', they turned out for his funeral, and cried over him. 'Cause whether they liked him or not, they knew he had been a good man, and that his passin' was a great loss. I felt the sadness, too. But alongside the sadness, I was feelin' something else. I was feelin' free.

I've been meeting a lot of guys lately. Black, white, Asian, old, young, and with a rainbow of personalities. And now that I know how to spot crazy almost immediately, I'm able to enjoy chatting with the semi-sane ones. I know what I want in a man, so I'll know it when I spot it and so far, none of these guys seem to have IT. One has some semblance of it, so there's still hope for him. But the rest of the bunch has either been 86'd already, or will be soon. Theres really nothing too specific that I'm looking for; the rules can be bent a little in some areas. But character and heart are set in stone. In dealing with these guys and getting to know their varied personalitities and outlooks on things, one thing that I've known to be true for some years now, but has recently been solidified in my mind is that you cannot change a person, no matter what. Can they learn from you? Sure, but they are inherently the same and will always be hard wired that way. It's one of the reasons I gave up on my last relationship, after having worked hard at trying to make it better, more livable, for years. I eventually realized that I could no longer live with that man, he wasnt changing, no matter how much I tried. Now I'm seeing that same inability to change in a 50 year old I just met. Despite his age, he's immature, goofy as hell, lacks confidence yet is terribly vain. I'm willing to bet he was the same way at age 25. So, in all his years on this earth, and with all the people he's come to meet and know (and he's a pretty worldly guy), he has remained unmoved. The very first time he called me he changed his voice so that he sounded like Donald Duck meets Urkel. He kept this goofy charade up for a good five minutes and cut it out just before I was about to hang up on him. I knew who he was the entire time since his name and number was saved in my phone when we'd met and spoken in person. But these were the antics of a 50 year old man and father. And this wasnt even the worst of it. So what I gathered after having talked to him for roughly an hour is that, in a nutshell, he's a silly manwhore. And thus will always be a silly manwhore. He's not alone, though. Perverted old men hanging around bus stops and liquor stores were once silly manwhores. I have no doubt that he'll be in a retirement home someday, still being silly and trying to whore. But on paper, he's a dream: college educated, provides for the homeless and less fortunate, religiously, works with special needs children, foster children, and juvenile delinquents, is very attractive and in wonderful physical shape, and already has a 16 year old daughter. Yet he plays lots of games and doesnt know what he wants out of life...at age 50. Needless to say, he's not what I'm looking for, and I dont even believe I could tolerate him as a friend. Way too annoying. And I have TONS of patience, so thats a damn shame. Anyway, dating is starting to be fun again and I'm feeling more desirable than I have in years.

There's nothing quite like the feeling of having a crush. Whether it's reciprocated or not, it feels great.  But I'm not here to talk about him tonight :) I'm not here to talk about anything, really.  Just shooting the shit on here, since I don't do it often enough. It's been a long day.  Getting up at 7am on a Saturday because you have somewhere to be can sometimes be cool, but today wasn't one of those days. It was quite a chore prying myself out of bed and driving all the way to Westwood this morning. I'm taking a class at UCLA and today we took a test.  I think I passed. I hope I did. I left feeling pretty good about myself.  It'd be a sad shame if I was wrong.
On a more serious and a bit more sobering note, there's been a lot of death around me lately.  I remember when my uncle once told me that one of the things he disliked about getting old was that so many people around him were drying. A lot of his friends, a lot of people he'd known for years, were passing away with a frequency he couldn't get used to. That's happening around me lately and I'm only 38.  It's putting my life and mortality in stark perspective.  It's making me want to live more, love more, and not take anything for granted.  Not my ability to get up and experience new things, nor my ability to just stay home and sit still.  I have no idea when my day will come so when it does, I don't want to feel like I have too much unfinished business.  I want to feel as though my life had been full and vibrant, no matter what age I am when that time comes. My grandmothers sister passed away last month at age 89 and she'd had dementia for the past 2-3 years.  That seems ideal to me.  89 years is enough time to do and see a whole lot, and then to have dementia and only be able to recall the good portions of your life, seems pretty great to me. Her passing was indeed sad but there was joy in knowing that she had lived a full, long life, filled with love, experiences, family - children, a husband, grandkids, great grandkids, and great-great grandkids, etc.  A few years before she passed, my son and I interviewed her about her life for a family tree project we were doing, and it was, indeed, a remarkable life.  If we all could be so fortunate. 
My brother passed away recently, too.  His time was cut short at only 42 years and with still a lot of life to fill.  Turns out it was a heart attack.  But at least it was sudden so he never saw it coming, never had time to stress over it, to worry about anything.  A family friend isn't so lucky, though.  He was just told that he has cancer and that it was detected too late. It has spread too far in his body to be helped with chemo so they're estimating that he'll only have 2 more years of life to fill up.  He seems to be taking it with stride, putting on a much better face than I could ever muster in his predicament.  I'm so sad for him, though.  I want to spend as much time as possible with him...but so far, my own life has gotten in the way of that.  I'm crying just typing about it. I have to find a way to change that.  Life can be so beautiful yet so cold at the same time.  So, in addition to New Orleans and Vegas this year, I'm trying to plan a trip to Jamaica to meet up with a friend, and India to meet Lotta Jansdotter, peruse the bazaars for vibrant fabric and other pretty things, maybe see a snake charmer, maybe stay in a palace hotel, and see and learn hand/block printing techniques.  It's lofty and dreamy and potentially very expensive, but I'm going to try my hardest to make it work. My life is worth it.

Not today!

It’s St. Valentine’s Day again and this year I feel pretty awesome. This year, I don’t suspect that any jewelry commercials will annoy me as they have in the past with their contrived and convoluted romance. I’ve come to accept their stupidity as well as their hustle. I pity the fools who can’t see the conspiracy. In addition to the awesomeness that I am feeling today, I have big plans for this spring and summer that I’m very excited about. Some travel, some Beyonce in concert in Vegas, some love and lust and happiness, some destiny’s fulfilled (finally!), some kicking up my heels... I am no longer a jaded, miserable, forlorn woman. Today, I am feeling myself. Can’t say for sure what I’ll be feeling tomorrow or the next day but I suspect I’ll still be feeling myself. Me, feeling myself seems to be a trend that is here to stay. I think it comes with age because even when I was 17 and shallow as hell, I wasn’t feeling myself nearly as much as I am today. I’m a grown ass woman, child, and I feel it. I’m walking it, I’m talking it, I get up every morning and I look in the mirror and give myself such a devilish grin. Damn, that b*tch is fly. I am in love with me and proud of it. See, because I wasn’t always this way, I’m ashamed to say. I couldn’t see and appreciate myself when I was younger. I was hoping somebody else could show and convince me of what I was missing. Not today though, shiiiiit. Today I am smelling my own drawls. When I was younger folks used to disparage me with remarks like “you think you cute!” and I’d plead and assure them that I didn’t. I really didn’t. Not today though, b*tches.  You're damn straight, I think I'm cute! lol, Happy Valentines Day :)

Don't try to buckle my stride...and other randomness

I've been writing in here a lot less frequently because I’ve been pretty busy, moving and shaking and increasing my happiness quotient. Life is pretty good these days, as I’ve posted a couple of times before :).

Last night, out of the blue I received a message from a guy I used to have a big crush on. This comes right on the heels of me mentally deciding to buckle down and focus strictly on myself. Naturally, right? But I couldn’t NOT respond. My curiosity would have done away with me! What does he want and why does he want it now? I aim to see, and hopefully it’s good. I could use some more good in my life. All last night and this morning I fantasized about him. Damn shame, aint it? Hey, I’m only human, but I’m striving to keep it cool. My thirst will be kept tightly under wraps, lol. This guy is considerably older than me, for a change. Haha. He’s 50! But he looks absolutely fantastic and has the brain to match. He’s not a young idiot, which is so very refreshing *knock on wood. What’s weird is I discovered by accident that he went to school with my ex’s older sister. Facebook is a funny thing. One day, while perusing my feed, Facebook suggested a mutual friend to me and it was him! Imagine my surprise. So down that rabbit hole I went and discovered that they’d attended elementary school together (random, right?) and that he’d posted their 4th grade class photo and tagged my ex’s sister in it. I don’t know where a soul from my 4th grade class is today but that’s not at all the case for this generation of folks, I’m realizing. It used to astound me how many people my ex’s sister knew and kept in touch with from her childhood. I don’t know if he knows that there is a personal connection between us, since he’s not my friend on Facebook, but I don’t plan to tell him. We’ll see where this goes, if anywhere.

I’m always looking for ways to improve my house and home but last week when I was running around picking up a kennel that was given to me for my dog, I saw for the first time in a long time that my house is really quite beautiful, especially at night. I pulled up to drop off the kennel before leaving to return my coworkers borrowed truck, and I caught a glimpse of the lights twinkling in my backyard on my pergola, the lights twinkling in the mason jars hanging from the tree in my front yard, my white picket fence, and the pillows I’d sewn for the bench on my front porch all took my breath away. I’ve done a good job of turning that house into a cozy little home. I think seeing my other coworker’s house (who is a doctor. the one who gave me the kennel) helped me put my own house into perspective. Naturally, his house is bigger but in no way is it all that much cozier. I love the Craftsman homes in Pasadena because they have so much character. They look like a home is supposed to look, in my opinion – thoughtful, and anything but boring. They are fully decorated and detailed inside and out, unlike most modern homes I’ve seen that are usually just boxes with flat, boring walls satisfying an end. But I’d rather have a place to rest that reflects my family, our history, my city, and a little whimsy. I think my house satisfies this.

Putting the brakes on the money train

UPDATE: I spoke to my mom this morning. Apparently, she's the one sitting on a hidden pile of money that she doesnt want my stepfather to know about. She apologized for last night and assured me that I'd not only get my money back with interest, but she's going to pay for my Beyonce tickets as a belated birthday gift because she wasnt satisfied with just buying me dinner this year. So all is well :) I'm still not the bank, though.

I'm up at 1:26 am on a Sunday watching Suzi Orman. She's a great reminder of what I'm doing and need to be doing with my money. Just 20 minutes ago, I came home from the ATM after loaning my parents $60, in addition to the $25 I'd given my mom this evening before they headed out to San Manuel Indian Bingo and Casino. They wanted to borrow an additional $100, which would've brought their total loan to $125, but I declined. Then they regale me with the sob stories of them barely having gas and groceries, yet knowing this they decided to go gamble. I am not the bank. The fact that they expect me to be their bank pisses me the fuck off. I don't care that you're good for it, and it doesn't matter that you'll pay me with interest, like you would a bank. But unlike the bank, our relationship is much too close to do business with one another. But mainly, I cannot manage my finances while keeping your frivolous lifestyle in mind. I cannot support your whimsy! Of course, they don't understand this. They always thnk I'm sitting on a pile of hidden money, simply because I have managed to support myself and my son and stay above water better than most people they know. But if I'm not careful, they will surely help me to drown. Now I'm watching the segment of Suze's show called "Can I Afford It?" and it's pretty sobering. I feel like my finances have spiraled out of control and have been heading downhill for a good 7 to 8 months now. I'm not completely off track, thankfully. But I'm not in the shape I'd hoped to be in by now. Too many moments of weakness - for myself and my family. So I've raised my investing contributions a little bit, just as a saftey net and to give me some semblance of responsibility. But it cant make up for the mistakes already made - the splurges and cave in's for my family. But tonight I am vowing to work harder at getting it together and steering this ship steady. I'm about to set a budget and write a list of things that can be cut back on or cut out altogether. I need a will, need to fully fund my roth IRA, and add more money to my 401k, need 1M term life insruance, and to stop being unwise with the help that I'm giving to my son and my mom. Having said this, I still have a trip to New Orleans pending, and a Vegas trip to see Beyonce in concert in June. I dont intend to stop living :) but I do intend to slow this party bus waaaay down.

Rain, books, Audrey, and f&*king MEN! or not...

I can’t think of a better place to be on a rainy day than inside a bookstore, snuggled up against a window, reading books for free. That’s where I was this past Sunday during brunch time. I had just come from getting a massage at Burke Williams that made me feel like I was Audrey Hepburn in Sabrina, listening to Parisian music, smelling lavender and jasmine, and having my naked back kneaded into jelly as I lay face down inside a warm, dimly lit room. I’d woken up in a great mood that day, listening to rain trickle down my copper rain chain just outside my bedroom, and decided to head off to my spa appointment a bit earlier than scheduled so that I could take in the peace and tranquility of the spa for longer than the duration of my massage, which was only an hour. So I left my house at 8:30am and as I walked down Mills Alley in Pasadena in my hat and coat, bundled up with my scarf, I smelled freshly brewed coffee mixed in with the scent of cool rain, I spied old men writing in journals and reading the paper over a plate of crepes, and all of the “closed” signs on adjacent store fronts reminded me that most of the city was still in bed and only a handful of us had shown up to live. I love this city but I especially love it when I have a bigger share of it, like I did on Sunday morning. Without the hustle and bustle of a mass of people I can better appreciate the little things that really aren’t so little and should be appreciated. Like walking in the rain without a crowd, reading the paper over coffee and pastries during the wee hours of the morning, writing without the cacophony of traffic and chatter to distract you. Or maybe I’m just a morning person. Either way, Sunday was great. It was the best time I’d had on a Sunday in quite a while. And after my bookstore visit, I stopped into Zara and they were having a sale so I picked up two sweaters before heading home. I enjoyed myself so much, I’m thinking of doing it again if only I can drag myself out of bed to go…and if only it rained every Sunday.


Today, however, I am disappointed. I met someone and quickly decided that I liked him. He’s 40, 5’11, a trained chef, and identifies as ½ Colombian, ½ French Canadian, which most people would label as white but for some reason he does not. No matter, he’s cool and I’d had no expectations of him until he asked if he could call me yesterday. I was smiling at the thought, nervous about what we’d say to each other at first but then 5 o’clock rolled around, then 6 o’clock, then 7 and 8. At which point my smile was dead and I was beginning to think he wasn’t so cool after all. The last three guys I’ve met have all shown interest in me while I was minding my own business, opened me up to the idea of exploring more than _nothing_ with them, asked to call me…and then didn’t call when they said they would. The one before this one eventually called, and the one before that one is still confusing as hell. I’ve long since written that one off but he keeps popping up every now and then, as if to remind me that he’s still alive when I’d rather forget. Aint nobody got time for that © Sweet Brown. Sometimes I am convinced that men are more trouble than they’re worth. When I take the time to assess the value of a man the list is often short. I try to tell myself that’s because I haven’t met Him yet. I’d like to believe that He’s out there and that one day before I’m dead, when God feels it’s right, He and I will meet and it will be ordained, and I will smile and say to myself “it’s about time you showed up,” and be happy for the rest of my days. All I need is a trusted, faithful companion to grow and share with to mark off my To Do list. But noooo, these fools just have to be difficult. Why go to all of the trouble of bringing me out of my comfort zone, showing me interest, only to not follow through? I was minding my own business! Now I’m pissed. Ugh.

I’m in a good place right now. Moving forward and seeing progress in many aspects of my life. Growth is good :) It’s exciting, too. I always marvel at how far I’ve come. Boy, do I remember those days when I was always sad, stressed, and bent out of shape about something. All the things I wanted to do, dreamt of doing, saw others doing, and wondered if I’d ever do, are happening, will happen soon, or have already happened. I’m happy. I’m no longer worried. Not that everything is absolutely perfect and I wouldn’t change a thing if I could. Just that it is what it is (which aint too bad, actually) and I’m okay with it.
I miss my brother. I can still hear his voice saying “Val, this ya brotha…” on my voicemail. I can still hear him giving me words of advice about any and everything and I’m still taking heed. Whenever I need him, I just stop and ask myself “what would Darryl say?” and I have my answer. I’m better because of him. I just wish he were still here for me to tell him that. And I told him often but I loved him so much that it was never often enough. It’s still hard to believe he’s gone, and so suddenly, without warning. I loved that we looked so much alike, too. His round face helped me come to grips with my round face, lol. I looked at him and realized there was no escaping my genetics, haha. No diet, no exercise, no nothing. But sharing those genes with someone like him made me proud of them. I remember when he told me, as matter of fact and plainly as ever, that the artist guy was gay. He’d never met or laid eyes on that man but from what I told him about him, he was positive in his assessment that he was not interested in women, but preferred men. Without a doubt, artist guy was gay, lol. And he didn’t know how I couldn’t see it. I am so going to miss my big brother, though in my heart I know that I will never be without him. He left me with so much.
I went on a date the other day. This guy was cool. I’ll call him “Writer/actor Guy.” He took up theater in college and says he came to LA to write screenplays. He claimed that he and his writing partner are working on a project for Seth Rogan and Adam Sandler. A horror flick. We were first supposed to meet for coffee but that didn’t pan out. So he asked me to dinner at the Cheesecake Factory but our wires got crossed so that didn’t happen. So then he asked to take me to lunch at Gennaro’s Italian Ristorante, which ended up working. He was really nice, very chivalrous, but not as articulate as I’d expect a writer to be. He often seemed at a loss for words and whenever he’d settle on one it was quite basic and didn’t seem to convey his meaning or satisfy him. Plus, his conversation seemed to veer more towards the theater than writing, which made me believe that he was using writing as a cover for his real desire to come to Hollywood and act. His eyes lit up when he talked about his theater classes at Howard. Anyway, he wasn’t a creep or a weirdo like my last handful of dates, so I’m guessing my dates are on the upswing and getting better; although, I don’t see this one going anywhere substantial. It was clear to me that we were both looking for different things and at different points in our lives. However, I don’t think it was clear to him that despite everything (I’m established, he’s not. I’m not struggling, he is.), and all of the things we had in common, I would have made a great friend. I don’t intend to try to convince him of that, either. If he’s that dense he deserves whatever he gets. He’ll learn, eventually. But I was happy to have met him and I did enjoy our date. If he calls, I’ll answer. Afterwards, as we walked out of the restaurant, I asked him where he’d parked. I do this all the time out of habit with whomever I’m hanging out with – family, friends, everyone. He said that he’d found a spot right up front and sort of gestured towards a faded red Ford Probe, then quickly asked me where I’d parked. He said he’d walk me to my car and he did. He even opened my door for me but I got the feeling that he just didn’t want me to see his car. So when I drove away I saw him slowly walking back towards the restaurant but lagging, clearly waiting for me to be well on my way back to work before he hopped in his car and drove off. What he did for me, though, was confirm my confidence and I appreciate him for it. I kind of knew I wasn’t too shabby but now I know I aint. All of the things that I was unsure of and was always modest about, when I talked about my life on paper with him, his eyes widened and dulled. It made me realize that I should give myself way more credit than I have been. That I should appreciate way more than I have been. I AM blessed. I’m not afraid anymore, I know what I want now, and I know my worth more than I did before. Confidence feels good. And I’m still as determined as ever.

What do you mean he’s gone?  Gone where? How? What are you talking about? My brother’s death is unfathomable. I hear his voice saying he’s unable to come to the phone right now when I call his cell and I want to leave a message asking him what the hell happened? Why are they saying that you died playing basketball? Because only he can explain it to me.  The doctor says that he had an enlarged heart, which is a symptom of some underlying issue.  Maybe it was his high blood pressure, maybe it was an arrhythmia he was born with, like me, or maybe it was something else.  Could it have been prevented somehow? Was he taking blood pressure medication? How did he feel that day?  Nothing has been explained to my satisfaction so I’m left trying to put all the pieces together like a detective.  And I feel so guilty for not calling him in such a long time.  I figured he’d be there whenever I got around to it. I thought we had more time.

The fact is, there’s never enough time and there’s nothing we can do about it. We’re always going to feel like we were blindsided, like the rug was abruptly snatched from beneath us, and that we took the lives of our loved ones for granted. It will never be that we are satisfied with our last interaction with someone we’ve loved and lost, no matter if it was months ago or the very day that they passed away. We’ll have regrets no matter what.  We’ll feel like we didn’t get to say all that needed to be said, do all that needed to be done.  Even if I had called him on Sunday, the day before he went to play basketball, I would have felt robbed by the end of Monday, when he passed on.  There's never enough time when you love someone.

I couldn’t sleep last night, the second night of his passing, because I realized that back in March I’d accidentally deleted the only set of pictures of him and I together.  I’ve been searching my computer for them in vain ever since. I’m still hopeful that maybe they were saved onto a thumb drive that I just need to find.  I’m so sad.  Those pictures mean so much to me.  I was so proud whenever I mentioned him, “my brother.”  And he made me feel every bit of a little sister, loved and protected.  I was so elated when we spoke for the very first time 7 years ago.  Darryl is my half brother, 5 years older than me, and although we knew the other existed – me since I was 12, and him since he was 16 –  no one had bothered to help us find one another until 2005.  And in that short time it was as though we’d been together our entire lives. We talked often but never often enough for his liking.  We even resembled each other.  And when I visited St. Louis in 2008, I got to spend some time with my older brother and meet two of my three nephews.  We’d only just begun and now he’s no more.  I feel like part of my soul is hollow.  The first night I hadn't processed it fully. I still haven't, actually. But that first night I fell asleep at 11pm and woke up crying at 2am.  I had a headache for 2 days after that and, on this third day, I am finally beginning to accept that he is gone. Although now I'm trying my hardest to hold on to any and every memory that I have left of him. I go to his facebook page and read his past comments and see our "friendship" and it fills me up a bit, it helps me get on knowing that he never really left. Those times we had, the laughs, the heart to hearts, his memories will be with me always. And it brings me great solace to know that he was happy that day, he'd come to a great place in his life, found a wonderful person to share it with, and all four of his children were happy with him.
I'll miss you, big brother. I'm so grateful for the time we had. It couldn't have been long enough. xxoo

Really, my dream is to get up every day around 8am, slip into my robe and slippers, fix and eat breakfast, brush my teeth, and then head out back to my studio shed to work.  I’ll get dressed around noon or before breakfast, depending on my mood and agenda for the day, and I’ll work out there in that shed until 6 or 7 o’clock, working for myself, making my own hours, my own money, and calling my own shots.  All this other stuff that I’m running myself ragged to accomplish are back-up plans, just-in-case-these-eggs-don’t-hatch, plans.  But I feel like time is running out on me, and I have to begin etching out the living that I truly want right now instead of …someday…soon. Yet I’m spending all my time focusing on the safety net, the “just-in-case” plan B.  I need it now.  I’m inching closer to 40 as I type this, and with a birthday coming up in January, doing what I truly want to do with my life is at the forefront of my mind.  So, I’m giving myself a deadline to be done with this other stuff – summer 2013.  That’s it and that’s all, God willing.  If I continue to work on this other stuff, it will be in my spare time, life permitting.  I’m going to save up enough money for my safety net and then I’m going to go full throttle at my dreams.  To be fair, though, I haven’t completely left them unattended on the back burner.  I’ve kept them in sight, stirring the pot from time to time.  I just haven’t focused enough of my attention on them.  That’s going to change very soon. 

cape fear

i'm antsy. i feel like i'm bullshitting and wasting time. things just arent happening as quickly as i'd like them to. why can't i be a patient passenger? ugh. i will be 38 years old in 42 days. i feel like my life began again at 33 and it's been progressing painfully slow. i'm afraid of whats next. i shouldnt be but i am. i try to convince myself not to be. i have so many wonderful plans in the works, i should feel excited, not fearful. will i be too old to enjoy the fruits of my labor when everything is finally ripe? dios mio, i'm a headcase at times. i'm peaceful, content, yet antsy and eager at the same time. my mom used to say "if you rush your life, you rush your death." i try to let that anchor me. i have led a great life so far. why wouldnt i believe it could only get better? thats the pessimist in me, the worry wart. i gotta check that bitch. got me doubting my ability to win when i KNOW what I'm capable of. psht. i couldnt visualize a terrible future if i tried. my house is covered in fog. i just looked out my bathroom window and my tree looked eerily content surrounded in mist and grayness. i love the peacefulness of morning and this fog is heightening that. i kind of hope it doesnt burn off. then i can spend more time with my creative mind. gotta use these powers for good though. no more worry and fear.

My cousins mother died

She was my aunt through marriage. i'd bumped into her at a restaurant a week before she was put on her deathbed and she acted real shitty. i heard she was bitter about dying. as long as i've known her she's been bitter about living. but i held no ill will. i didn't even really pity her. she just was. and now that she's not, my cousin is beside herself with grief and anger. anger because her mother didn't raise her, mines did. and because she tried for years to gain that womans favor and rid herself of us (my mom and me) but she couldn't. she always needed something. so now she's mad because we didn't go see her mom on her deathbed. i'd prefer to remember her how she was that day at the restaurant. plus, she made it quite clear that she didn't like my mother. hell, she didn't even like her own children or grandchildren. i remember her once saying "if it doesn't benefit me, it doesn't matter" she was proudly selfish. so wtf i look like going to cry over this woman? as a matter of fact, that day in the restaurant i had her great granddaughter w/ me. she looked down her nose at that two year old like she was shit. didn't hug or kiss her or even smile. her husband exclaimed "oh yeah! we've seen pictures of her," as if seeing a picture of your only great-grandchild is better than seeing her in the flesh.  i feel sorry for my cousin but that's about it.  Whenever she's ready to talk, if she ever will be, I also hope she's ready to listen.  No matter what occurs in her life I wont tolerate her treating my mother, the only real mother she's ever known, like some insignificant factor in her life, as much as my mother has done and been there for her. Even standing by her side and helping her and her children when NO ONE else would, including her biological mother, as she practically spat in her face. 

i keep making excuses because i'm not where i want to be right now. i keep telling myself that i'm not ready or even prepared to give my all and focus on a relationship because i need to do x,y,&z first. i don't know if that's me expecting a repeat of former relationships, me being gunshy, or me being real (real comfy w/ my current sitch). so what do i always do? i look for reasons to shoot shit down, exit stage left, and not even bother...all while riding the fence hella hard and confused. for the first time i'm not sure i really know wtf i want. indecision is a bitch. or maybe i'm just trying to do too much all at once. i need to focus, prioritize, and chill. in no particular order

Another check off my bucket list

Although my roots run deep there, I’ve never been to New Orleans. The birthplace of jazz, a major port where slaves entered this country, the city where my great grandmother ran a bordello after her husband died and left her with two kids. NOLA has been on my bucket list for a while now and in March it will be getting checked off. We’re heading down there just in time for the Jazz and Heritage Festival, which is great because jazz and heritage are two of my primary reasons for wanting to visit. Great food is another. I figure I’ll get all three at the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival in March. I'll slow my grind down a bit by then. YOLO, lol

constantly grinding

I wonder what it will feel like when my big goals are finally accomplished. i'll probably just make new goals and grind some more. But the thought of resting is appealing. The thought of getting to where I'm trying to go and then soaking it all in is so sweet. I just hope that I can break this habit of always trying to make things better and just enjoy whats already good. Speaking of which, I may be staying home this Thanksgiving. I'm not sure if I'll regret going to my cousins house or not going to my cousins house. We have nowhere to put Axl, it's a long story but he's the reason we'll probably be staying home this year. My mom and step dad will likely come over for a bit, though, if we do stay, which is highly likely. And I'm making oyster dressing for the first time this year. I'm sure we'll play gin rummy or somethng. The simple things in life make me so happy these days. Decoratng my house for the holidays, cooking things like oyster dressing, being with family, HAVING LEFTOVERS...I'll just be happy when the day comes that I can host a double family gathering at my big ol' house. I am thankful for my bungalow, though. SOOO thankful. I love having a home of my own. But what will my life consist of when I stop striving for more? Will I be a grandmother by then? Will I have met a life partner? Will I have traveled to my hearts content? Will I have a new list of goals to accomplish? I sort of feel like I'm missing something, though. Like maybe I'm doing it all wrong. I'm not 100% satisfied. That figures.

I took my mom to see a play last night to celebrate her birthday. Intimate Apparel at the Pasadena Playhouse. It was surprisingly very sad. The main character was a 35 year old African American seamstress in 1905 New York who'd been working since the age of 9 and had never really felt loved or that she belonged anywhere. She was saving her money to open a beauty parlor and was jealous of the girls she knew who were getting married and seemed happy. Her two main confidants were a rich, sad, married white woman and a black prostitute. Anyway, she believes she has found love when a man she'd never met began writing her letters from Panama. And having never laid eyes on him nor ever hearing his voice, she eventually agrees to marry him like a desperate fool. Shortly after they're married it becomes obvious that he isn't who she expected him to be. He's verbally abusive, unloving, and she even learns that he is cheating on her with her prostitute friend. And in one last desperate attempt at love, she breaks down and allows him to talk her into giving him all of her life savings. Money that was earmarked for her dream to open a beauty parlor. Of course, he never returns and she ends up living back in the rooming house she'd started in, trying to etch out a dream that is now much farther away than before. During all this, it's obvious that she and the Jewish man that she buys fabric from have developed feelings for one another. But it's 1905, he's white, she's black, and his family has already arranged for him to marry a woman he's never met who lives in another country. Although sad, the actors did a fantastic job and the set and vintage lingerie was absolutely whimsical.

:)

I love the fine lines that I am developing around my eyes, the twang in my voice that doesn’t quite say where I come from, my belly, my curves, my feet, my round face, the way I hold my mouth when I’m deep in thought, the way I cook, live, and love. There is nothing about me that annoys me or that I cannot live with. I see my vast potential clearly, as well as how great I already am, so I don’t feel the need to worry myself with trying to convince someone else of all this. I’m extremely lovable :) If no one ever sees it, that’s their loss, not mine. I’ve tried explaining this to a friend of mine but she doesn’t get it. She clearly does not fully accept or view herself as whole, poor thing. The other day I received a chain email and since I’m a wee bit superstitious, I followed the instructions on this one before I deleted it. After reading all the way to the bottom of the email, it requested that I, the reader, make a wish for whatever it is that I want the most right now, or else the opposite will come true. I silently made a wish and it was not for a companion, lol. Although it did occur to me that others might expect me to wish for a man. I know better, though. No man could possibly make me any happier than I already am. And if I should find someone whose happiness is MY happiness, well, that would be fantastic! That would just make me even more awesome and fortunate than I already am… although, I’m hardly complaining over my current bounty of good fortune. People are people; none of us is Prince or Princess Charming. And finding someone who won’t disappoint, whose idiosyncrasies you can live with, who is like-minded and has all of the qualities that you need in a mate, is a real bitch. Fools rush in.


There was a time when I used to wonder if my ex was as good as it gets. I was judging him through someone else’s eyes, though, not my own. It took me years to realize that I could never know whether or not he is the best I could do because I won’t get to date every man I could potentially date and compare him to. And that’s fine with me because what I DO know is that he was no longer making me happy and life is primarily about being happy. I was downright miserable with that controlling man. Then one day I decided to shut out others’ worthless opinions about my happiness and listened to my own truth, which said that I would be happier on my own than with him. So I decided to go and, lo and behold, I found peace. Imagine that. So if he had been the cream of the crop that would have been really disheartening if I didn’t already love myself above all else. Anyway, I like the idea that I don’t have to do or be or please anyone but me (although pleasing others does, in fact, sometimes please me. Either way, it all comes back to me :) ). I understand that loving me is more than what some people are capable of. That’s why I don’t want to trouble myself with anyone who isn’t open to really trying.