Peridot Dynasty

Updates n Shit

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Williams) — Thu, 30 Apr 2026 18:07:00 +0000

Soooo....I'm devoting myself to poetry and not product reviews. Because I had a thing with the one company that was giving me most of my stuff...Influenster. I did not want to connect my FB to their thing. Honestly, wasn't that keen on the Insta, either.

I realized that whatever it is about the whole product review thing no longer appeals to me. I never got paid for it, and do have some cool stuff from my experiences...but it just isn't for me anymore. Testing and putting myself out there for so little, sometimes. Feeling pressured to say this and that a specific way. Fighting with AI systems that often break or have coding/detection issues, thus making you spend hours fixing fucking problems that needed to be addressed by the IT team....but you get penalized because of automatic systems.

There are other companies, it's great, go for it.

It's no longer for me, and anything after this point is just me um...posting things.

My unfiltered blog (it's boring, easy to find, full of secrets and titties. Google it.😈)

My poetry blog

The Flip App: My Experience So Far

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Williams) — Tue, 25 Mar 2025 22:05:00 +0000

I am flipping on Flip. It's a social media app with a shopping twist. Cool pitch, right? You haven't heard that stuff 6,000 times over in the past 15 years since affiliate marketing and affiliate links went into manipulative overdrive. Take it from someone who was running back and forth with that mess--Flip is different.

Yes, when TikTok was sent out back to be shot, I was scrambling to find a way to satiate my doomscroll addiction. Somebody brought up Flip, I took the bait, got into it, and then TikTok came back. I decided to stick with them BOTH. Whee!

You get paid to use the app. You start out small with a couple of bucks just for joining. When you watch a video for at least three seconds, you get some change. The amount varies, but is based on engagement (watching, specifically). Watch ten videos, and get 5 bucks. Keep up a streak for about 30+ days, and come out with $150.

The Catch:

There's always a catch, and I'm not gonna be secretive about it. I'm also not running around on the app posting video after video of what I made. I hate those videos. Some people find them to be inspirational. They piss me off. You'll see soooooo many videos about profits and who made what, when. I think it gets a little old.

Back to the catch.

The money you earn from watching videos contributes to your discount. Your first discount (there are several tiers per order, all the way up to almost 100 bucks off) will be 55% off, then 40%. It deviates, and you can see what discount you'll be getting next in your profile's (wallet) Watcher Reward section.

So, for example, my latest order on Flip (which is my third, overall) was 40% off, and I think I had about 42.08 shaved off from my watch earnings.

It's easy to gather cash for your shopping on Flip, because there are so many interesting videos. When you're first setting up, carefully check which subjects you're choosing as interests. I love comedy, but a lot of re-purposed TikTok and FB videos show up in this section. (You know the vids--pet compilations, work blunders, some random 20-something being stupid by signing karaoke outside on a skateboard, those 5-minute messes that SHOULD be comedy...)

There are also videos about decoration, cooking international foods, fine dining, and fashion. There are also GRWM videos and a few poets are showing up to spit some verses. There is room for everyone on the app. I've seen older folks, teenagers, young adults--and we're all on there just reviewing in our pajamas talking about LIFE. Flip is cool.

The best money is made thru watching videos, posting, and engagement.

Yeah...you can't just be on the app. You have to be a part of it.

That's hard for a lot of people, and I probably should be one of them. Homebody? Check. Small talk fumbler? Every shaky-voiced time. However...I like writing, I like talking about stuff, and I want to let people know when products SUCK. I like chirping about good products! It's a challenge for me to be on Flip. Me, the introvert shaped like Claire the Bear? The overthinking nutcase who sees every loc flaw, hyperpigmentation on my face, unwaxed facial hair...ON CAMERA?

YES.

I have reviewed candy, I have talked about the solarium, and I have EATEN. ON CAMERA. All/most of the things I said I would NEVAH do as a big woman trying to carve some kind of media-based thing into my life. On camera, in 4k, tellin' the whole world that yes--the big girl won't steer you wrong on snack choices! HA!!

I've grown to love Flip because I'm finding things I need. Items that I'm actively using and not just tossing in a doom pile. Besides, you're still spending your own money. Why waste it? I'm not making huge wads of life-changing cash, but I'm seeing and trusting the process. This is something I wanted to do on my blog, but this new direction is just fine.

I suggest Flip because some of the same things you want in stores could be on this app. Most items are either heavily discounted or are forever sold out. That's how popular items are. Available Thursday, sold out by Friday afternoon.

That brings us to the next catch.

The concept of getting rich quick/overnight is nothing new. Who doesn't want to wake up tomorrow and have a fattened bank account to solve financial problems and wipe out Amazon wishlists (hint hint cough cough August 30th) with just one click? Take it from the fool who fell for those stupid MLM pitches and other similar foolish programs--unless you're emanating viral pheremones that ensure you'll be getting views and engagement in the thousands every second, you aren't just going to hop on the app and be viral overnight. You aren't going to make $100 just for being there. Influencers are good at creating hype but not telling the whole truth. This is why I don't like the "what I made" videos. To me, they aren't inspirational. They give false ideas of earning potential. (Or maybe you'll see them as a challenge. You're probably a sane individual.) Some are keeping it real, which is the point of the app. Realness=better engagement.

Let me get to the point:

The items you purchase must also be reviewed in a FLIP video. You can't make any more purchases until your stuff is shipped, delivered, and reviewed. You can make as many review videos as you want with the product. You get 30 days to profit from engagement. The video is automatically set up to tag the company and advertise the item. You're just in action. This is a time to demo the item, make it personal, and review it. I've been unboxing, opening packs, sampling, and doing first impressions. Then I do update vids and "snacktime at work" vids.

There are tiers to shopping and content creation. When you meet upload and view goals, you're moved to a better tier with discount perks:

Authenticity is key. Interesting focal points, good lighting, and editing too. I use PicsArt. Some folks use CapCut, others use TikTok (private posts) and just download the videos. Videos don't have to be long, but they need a hook to grab scrolling users. You're still selling a product. You get a cut if somebody adds and buys the item thru your video.

There are some complexities, but a lot of that comes from listening to the endless stream of "experts" on the Clip-side of the videos. Everyone has a tip, and none of them are the same. That's the only downside to the app--"Well, Flip told me this..." "Flip said..." "I talked to live..."

RE: Clips & Flips

This is the part that's pretty much like TikTok, but we're not dancing, and we aren't (for the most part) dressing/posing in certain ways for attention. Most users are everyday folks who just want to show you their world. Carpenters, stay-at-home moms--the gang is all here. Those weird, gross, cooking videos with the slop are also unfortunately on the platform, as well as a few Conservative voices. While they kinda keep to themselves and don't start major mess like TikTok, the comment section and some of the videos can test your patience. I block them. If I wanted to engage with crap involving you-know-who, I'd stick with Twitter.

ANYWAY!

Once you sift through annoyances and shape your Flip and Clip-side algorithms to your liking, you will start seeing videos (of interest) you can watch to boost your earnings. When you're ready to shop, you might not find everything, but you will find items that stroke your interests. I have sleeping oil, some coffee bombs, freeze-dried candy, and a 15-piece Turkish snack box. There are other high-end items like skincare serums, supplements, decorations, kitchenware, and a few plus-sized items.

If you are a shopper, hit up that search bar and play around with the filters. Work the discounts and mind the rules to get one free item. (In my case, I'm on a tier where for every dollar I spend, I get 0.50 for free.) The reason you (obviously) want to pick items you'll like is that it'll make fulfilling the review requirement a lot easier. Be smooth, be convincing, and have fun with it.

You don't have to be glamorous with a mug full of NARS to sell something. There is no "certain look," and the right aesthetic could be you with a cup of coffee and a smile.

Check it out, get into it. See you there!

Product Review: Rebellion Harvest Exotic Ranch Sunflower Seeds

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Williams) — Wed, 11 Dec 2024 00:48:00 +0000

Picture it--sometime a few weeks ago a bumbling aspiring writer needed 3 more bucks to make her Walmart order free. She scrambles to think of something to stick into her cart until it dawns on her--sunflower seeds. She goes for the David's, but they want too much money for too little product. Some options come with yucky flavors. Others...ehhh...let's just say it would have been easier to go to the store. Regardless, she finds something and continues on. Enter....

Rebellion Harvest. "Our flavors break the rules", they say in a big, yellow scrolling text. You bet. With flavors like Lemon Pepper Wet and Off The Grill, one should expect something different than other brands.

I'll spare you the history. Get to know them on your own time! On to the review!

I would be a dirty ol' liar if I sat here and told you these seeds were terrible. A little salty,

yes. Was the bag a wee bit small, yes. Was there flavor, at least? Again, yes. Very prominent flavoring. I chose the Exotic Ranch. I was expecting Ranch. I licked and savored each seed to get that Exotic Ranch kick. Did I get it? No. Was I disappointed? A little. However, despite the difference in flavor versus flavor name, I had an interesting experience. I tasted more garlic and black pepper than I did "ranch flavor". If you're of a certain age, you know what I mean when I say "Ranch flavor". It's just...ranchy. That savory dill flavor with a hint of onion and garlic powder. The thing that put Hidden Valley on the map.

Maybe there was a flavor mixup? Who knows.

They weren't bad. Out of 5 stars, I give them a 3.9. The saltiness beat my tastebuds a bit. The lack of classic ranch left me a little disappointed. I saw the effort in different flavoring and wanted to touch down on that--this brand is ok! It has me interested in the other flavors. I purchased my bag at Walmart, but they do have an online store of their own. Give them a try.

Rating: 3.9/5

Product Review: Hostess Meltamors Snack Cakes

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Williams) — Mon, 09 Dec 2024 20:25:00 +0000

A few weeks ago, Influenster sent me some Hostess goodies to try for a campaign. I was cute and kind about it on Instagram and the in-app reviews. In reality, both snack cakes were very much a two-star event. So, before I delete all the pictures from my Google Photos, allow me to quickly review.

Hostess Meltamors: Double Chocolate

I'd be a big ol' rotund liar if I said I hated these. While I wasn't fond of the odd taste (cardboard-like? Carpet taste?) that seems to linger on all modern-day Hostess and Little Debbie confections, I can give points to moisture, sponginess, and heated flavor. Yeah, heated (as suggested) makes them all right. I had some with a scoop of ice cream. Alone, ehhhh....not so much. Not so much at all.

Overall, they aren't bad. These snack cakes just aren't something I see myself actively purchasing again. The lingering taste is what turned me off. However, in a sweet-seeking pinch, this double-chocolate mini snack isn't so bad.

Rating: 3/5 Stars

Hostess Meltamors: Creamy Caramel

The theme: indifference. Don't promise me caramel and give me more chocolate. The experience is supposed to be creamy, warm caramel. What I got was more chocolate. Yes, "real cocoa"! I saw it on the boxes. Impressive. Marginally tasty. Again, strange and bland taste. That taste lingers on my tongue and ruins most of my old-school favorites. Maybe I'm just an old fart at 39? Dude. Anyway, the promise of caramel was overshadowed by the chocolate experience. I tasted hints of caramel-- hot or cold. The rest are currently on the kitchen counter, waiting for some hungry and unexpecting family member to taste outta curiosity.

Rating: 2.6/5 Stars

I gave these snacks a chance despite my from-the-jump feelings about Hostess products. While I was a little let down, the taste test wasn't all that bad. There was still a hint of sugar-frosted mirth heating up a chocolaty snack. I still felt a hint of glee and giddy feelings plopping a scoop of vanilla over the warm little snack cakes. For all my complaints, they actually are much better hot. If you don't overthink the experience, they aren't all that bad.

Product Review: Planter's Dill Cashews

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Williams) — Wed, 29 Nov 2023 09:28:00 +0000

My Givin' Gifts Secret Santa decided to leave the gifting to her grandkids for an Amazon Wishlist exchange. I added these nuts at the last minute to a condensed list for her kiddos to cruise. How can you go wrong with the savory taste of pickles and the nutty taste of cashews?

The Review: The cashew taste was hand-in-hand with the dill pickle flavoring. It wasn't as salty as expected and the pickle taste seemed to intensify once I got my big ol' paws a bit deeper in the bag. These nuts are 5 ounces of a tangy snack best suited for a gift basket. I was expecting the seasoning/flavoring to stay ON the nuts, but most of it settled at the bottom of the bag. I had more of a time licking my fingers to get at the dust.

Not bad, needs more nuts for that price. Or, a variety pack maybe.

7.3/10

No-Slip Solution: Frienda Air Bag Nosepads

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Williams) — Tue, 03 Oct 2023 17:48:00 +0000

Glasses people, can we talk? What are your greatest hang-ups when it comes to wearing your glasses? What ticks you off about the spectacle experience? For me, it's sliding. I'm well over the whole gripe about being a nerd in my glasses. Been there, done that, a kiddo needed to see in Fall of '93. However, the constant need to push them back up over my oily nose? Even after a good wipe and reset, there they go again. I cannot be doin' that all day.

I recently purchased a pair of glasses that looked like they were fairly medium-sized. When I opened the box and took a good look, they were HUGE. Like...old lady huge. No problem, still gonna wear 'em because I needed a pair for work. They're great for the long hours, but there was one major problem--they would not stop sliding. Right down my nose, almost at the tip, making for some super uncomfy wear.

Wikihow threw some cute hints at me that were a temporary fix. Amazon was my next stop. My search started out with a lot of open tabs and keyword changes. I didn't want to do stuff like adding wax or wearing straps. I wanted my setup to be as natural as possible. Granted a gentle leg tune and putting thin hair bands helped a bit, it was Frienda Air Bag Nosepads that saved the day. Small, fast, and oily t-zone friendly.

The Review: My only gripe is that they're pretty visible with these particular glasses. If we're adding on super-nerd factors, then...yeah...you're probably gonna be nerding it up. However, in terms of my usage, I really don't care. I'm at home, working, trying to stack a little change. I have another pair for regular use.

Easy to install, all it takes is a steady hand and a keen pair of eyes. The little stops adhere beautifully and don't apply pressure to the nose. They do what they say for well under ten bucks and come in a cute little packet. They're great for people who don't want to wear glasses chains, ear stops, or other pieces that may get caught in longer hair. They're best suited for glasses with molded nose stops or a plastic frame, not ones with loose stops. [Refer to the shop listing for photos.]

4.7 stars out of 5.

Product Reviews: Coming Back with JDO 6-Setting Showerhead

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Williams) — Tue, 19 Sep 2023 16:36:00 +0000

A new start for an old blog, and that means walking away from commentary posts. I will not be doing that here, anymore. I'm trying to revive my AdSense, and they're giving me the blues over content, robots.txt, and everything else. I guess this little space will be just for reviews, possibly nostalgia, and...pictures of flowers. Keeping it as pristine as possible so I can cash out and also express myself.

So, hi, remember me? (If you previously had been reading.) I'm older, larger, much crazier, and a constant consumer of things. Amazon and I are close likethis, Etsy is a good friend, and DoorDash probably has me on speed dial. If you have no idea who I am, and this is your first time visiting this dog and pony show--

Name: Veronica

Age: 38

Location: Somewhere here on Earth

Occupation: Ad Evaluator for Telus AI International (since Sept. of 2022)

Marital Status: Single af, but devoted to a good cup of coffee.

Hobbies: Amateur tie dye, Funko collector, crystal collection, lapel pin collection.

My review: JDO Shower Head (6 Settings)

TL;DR: You're in, you're out, you feel shiny and new.

I was long overdue for a new showerhead. I was putting way too much thought and worry into it. Meanwhile, my locs were getting longer and harder to stick under the ol' thing. It's hard being tall-ish, bear-built, AND having semi-long hair. It's long, thick, and needs to be thoroughly cleaned. I needed something I could detach and work all over my head.

Searching on Amazon, Walmart, and Lowe's, I found a lot of candidates. I even have a terrible showerhead that came with no hose attachment--a TikTok advert buy--full of "minerals" and fluff that now sits under the bathroom sink. I knew I wasn't trying to break the bank with something that was over 50 dollars. I was worried that the water pressure wouldn't work with anything "too modern". I got over the overthinking and kept it simple. What did I want this thing to do?

Clean my hair.
Cleanse my body.
Have a strong enough stream beyond a sad li'l spray.

It's easy to install. Steady hands, common sense, and Teflon tape is all it takes. If it fits the old shower setup in my house (built in 1950-something), it should definitely fit yours. A lot of setup is just centering and lining things up. The hardest part was taking off my old showerhead.

The mists: fabulous and delicate. Soft, barely audible.
The reach: all over. My tallness has been met with an appropriate showerhead.

Rating: 8/10 [Installation difficulties may occur, directions are a bit vague. Water pressure is agreeable, pricing varies but is reasonable.]

So Long, Oliver Street

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Williams) — Thu, 03 Aug 2017 04:59:00 +0000

This is probably going to sound very corny, but I don't care. Today my aunt took me by her old house, and I was stronger than I thought I'd be. When we pulled up and I saw the wood chips and hay where everything once was, I was overcome with this feeling of pure serenity. My aunt said to me: "it looks like nothing was ever there."

It was truly amazing. The lot was flat. The large trees that had surrounded the house seemed to be closer, standing taller. The cacti that my aunt had planted by the driveway were still there huddled together. When my eyes scanned the house, I thought of the

driveway cars, cats, and lizards that called it home. I thought of lush grass and a fabulous garden of roses and Resurrection Lilies. I thought of the creaks of the night, the scatter of various animals, and the sounds of wooden stairs and tastefully placed windchimes. I reflected on verdant surroundings, and the comfortable beauty that surrounded us day to day.

I thought of a place of warmth where all were welcome, and how much love and attention were put into the space. It was very much my aunt and uncle's, and the spirit of who they were reached every room from top to bottom. They'd carved a life for themselves there, and when I moved from Chicago to Tennessee, it became my base. It was comfortable.

I took so many pictures of flora and fauna, of new life, and of landscapes here and there. I savored the beauty of the forest outside my window, laughed at the strangeness of being stalked by birds, and felt a rush of excitement every Christmas (yeah I am a Buddhist but you try killing my holiday spirit, damn it!) when it was time to decorate and bake.

As much as that home on Oliver was theirs, I felt like it was also mine. From the wonderful and expansive room belonging to my aunt and uncle, to the fragrant kitchen downstairs where I baked and babysat. I wanted a future there, and hope for many more years, but tomorrow is never promised to us.

When the tree fell through the house during finals, I realized this quickly. As I watched my aunt and uncle search hard and make do, I realized this. I celebrate their determination and resilience, and see what the power of courage and strength can do for you. I am very proud of them.

As we watched the house be emptied, and as they watched it be torn down (I was out of town for the second part), nobody knew what was next. When they found the beautiful house they're in now, cardinals of hope showed up. Nothing is ever promised, and all materials mean nothing when you've still got another day to live life and breathe. It can all be taken away from you in an instant. They prayed and held fast to God, and I chanted Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo. Everyone prayed. They were blessed with kindness, and I believe that's what got them through everything.

In the face of everything falling apart, these people below held fast.

I don't have a cent to my name, but I want to help them. I want to get her more angels to replace the ones she lost. I want to go shopping with her and help decorate. I know my life is going in this other direction (maybe), but for now I'm here with them.

Seeing that space, I thought I was going to cry. When I saw the beauty of nature, it reminded me of The Sims. How easy it is to delete houses, how easy it is for the Earth to restore itself once people move away. It hurt a little to see the space, but the openness and the shining of the Sun on that very spot gave me some kind of hope.

Serenity stood with sadness, and together we all said goodbye to the little white house on Oliver Street.

I will miss that beautiful house.

Congratulations, Period Master.

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Williams) — Sat, 08 Jul 2017 17:38:00 +0000

[To protect the innocent, I shall name the person in this story after a Final Fantasy character. Fair warning, it's a period story. It's short, but I know enough of you will lose your ever-loving minds because we're talking about periods. I've been dealing with mine since the age of 14--trust me it's going to be okay. You won't die a horrible reading death because you read something about some random lady's period on the Internet. Most of us have them. Apparently men have them too, but that's for another time.]

I don't remember how the conversation came up, but all of a sudden Locke and I were talking about periods. Who understands them, who gets what they're like, who's been there. I guess I found it peculiar, considering how the sudden appearance of mine was handled during a very private moment. It didn't seem welcoming, and more like "ick, go take a shower now" type of thing. It was embarrassing! Especially the trek to Wally World at 3 AM to help with the sudden visit.

So Locke and I are talking, and he's giving me all these tales. It was about sudden visits, opinions on what a woman should do/should not during that time, smells, stains, and how to get rid of things. It got real in the period dialogue.

GO, GO PERIOD MASTERRRR!

The major thing he was trying to passionately express was how long he's been dealing with women and their periods. The entire thing was like some kind of moment where I'm supposed to be 100% persuaded that he's the "period master", or something. I dunno. Not his words, just how I'm interpreting it. He was so sure of himself. I'm sitting there nodding, listening, and appreciating. It's great, he's new age, he's "not like other guys". If Aunt Flo decides to visit on a beige surface, we can scrub it out together. I'll leave pads, chocolate, and a change of draws and pants/shorts in the car. We get it, Locke. You know what to do, boo.

STILL.

LOCKE, YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE

TO PHYSICALLY BE ON YOUR PERIOD.

So, he says to me "men have periods too." Honestly, him telling me that always reminds me of the Dormtainment sketch, but okay, fine and good. We're in a space talking about respecting bodies, so if he says men have periods, men have periods. In a later conversation, I tell him it's not like the one a woman goes through with the bleeding, the cramping, and the constant prayers that you're not making stamp art or stinking up the joint. This pretty much opened the door for more passion, but what the heck. I figured being a part of the menstrual nation sort of gave me the right to defend the...deed.

"So because it's not like a woman's, it doesn't count? Are you trying to justify a woman's is worse?"

Ugggggggh.

Locke. Missing the point, dude.

My point was that even with 20 or 30+ years of helping clean up or shop for period happenings, you really don't know what it's like. Is it admirable that you don't act like a stark raving lunatic? Sure. Is it cool of you to not be a dick about it? Dude, that's super. If you know her comfort period foods, and you've got them locked in and memorized, you're the king. You are a mature, super cool, period-aware person. This is great, and we don't have to act like goofy teenagers in health class.

STILL.

You do not know what it's like to have a woman's period.

[Now before people throw stones at me, I also realize that Trans men may have periods too. As well as persons who are androgynous, agender, or any persons who identifying as one gender, but may have the biological parts of another. Obviously this is sensitive and complex, and as a cis-gendered person, I cannot/should not begin to comment on what they go through. Which is why I'm not, but I want to point out that when applicable, they have periods too.]

There is a difference between knowing/expecting the ups and downs of a period, and actually having one. Those of us who are on the period committee must go through BOTH sides of that. Those persons who're on the supporting team aren't going through that.

Unless you want to switch places, and do all the bleeding, cramping, and other bodily whatnots of the period-ing....you do not have a clue about what it's really like. Do I need to mention people who are on menopause? Obviously they knew what it was like. They're exempt and I'm looking at them like this right now....

Darn you and your period-free ways.

Still, when Locke got so passionate about it, I kind of looked at him like he was nuts. Truly nuts! Were we really mildly disagreeing about....periods? I haven't been at it for long as he'd been contending with periods, but I had more physical experience--you know....actual things happening? Actual purchase and use of pads, tampons, and pain pills? The actual worries of smelling, making stains, and where to get plus-size period panties? That "sounds like a me problem". (He uses this phrase often.)

I wonder if Locke got where I was coming from. I at least hope he did. Of course it's admirable that he did all those things. I'll never knock that. I just kind of thought he was a bit...inflated about his role and his knowledge of periods. The kind of experience I was referring to had more to do with actually going through it, rather than being an outsider dealing with people going through it.

[ I am also aware that some women do not get them at all. I used to be like that. My periods were very irregular, but suddenly started to be back on a regular schedule once I turned 30. It's a struggle regardless, because periods and the dialogue about them is always either heated or suggested as something to be hush-hush about. Various cultures have their own frame of mind about periods, and I cannot judge them on that. All I know is that in America, it is split down the middle.]

Imagine if I rolled up on Locke's experiences as a man like that. My 31 tiny years of knowing men, but not really KNOWING what it's like to be a man--from feelings to functions. I'm sure Locke would think I'm off my rocker. (He already does, but that's because I like to be silly.) Granted I'm still on the fence about the Man-Period thing, I try not to overstep my boundaries to try and tell him about the physics of his existence.

What if I told him I knew everything about being a man? He really wouldn't like that, and would probably feel the same way I did during the period chat.

Alas, we are never discussing period experience again. All period talk shall be diminished to reference for knowledge purposes only.

And a ~~possible~~ need for chocolate.

Am I mad at Locke? Do I hate him? Of course not. We disagree like rabid squirrels on a lot of things. I just thought it was interesting how he handled this particular situation. I haven't really thought of it much since it happened, aside from creating this blog post.

Locke is a sane, airtight individual who has my back like he's known me for 100 years. He's a wonderful person and I am glad he's in my life. He makes things a lot better, and much clearer. The "period thing" might sound like a big thing, but it was more of an observation/women and men are from different planets kind of thing.

As long as he doesn't touch my period snack stash, the world will keep on turnin'. Even if he does, he'll get pinched, and the world will keep on turning anyway.

Going Home

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Williams) — Tue, 06 Jun 2017 16:20:00 +0000

First of all, Tim Curry singing "I'm Going Home" is the most beautiful thing ever. Second of, all, I'm going back to Chicago for an undetermined amount of time, and I don't know what to do with myself. Choices need to be made, serious thought put into it....and I keep jumping between country quiet and city comfort. It seems like an easy choice, but I've been away from home for about two years. There's suddenly a chance to stay put, and I'm hesitating. Didn't I go through this before? I suppose the bus ride there gives me time to reflect on things.

I leave tomorrow.

Love Yourself

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Williams) — Sat, 03 Jun 2017 02:33:00 +0000

When I see pictures like this, I think of all the mediocrity I put up with in my 20s. All the men who claimed that they loved themselves a fat woman, but only saw me during the darker hours. The men who chirped on profiles of the power of the BBW, but never introduced me to friends and sometimes kept me in the backseat of cars.

When I see pictures like this, I think of the "dates" that never were, and the low-budget affection that's best saved for a body pillow. I put up with mediocrity in my 20s, and only found one person in that time period who showed me some form of proper appreciation. We don't talk anymore, but he's the one (despite much...craziness...) that taught me one thing--Love Yourself.

Yeah, I know.

That was supposed to be a given, right? No ex was supposed to teach me that. I fought that lesson for a long time. It started in 1995 and sort of went on into the present day. Not all days are perfect, but at the core of all things I do love myself. Fam said it, and I know it's bad...but it went in one ear and out the other. It was the fact that this person gave me honest affection that made me see myself in a different light.

I can't push other people to do the same. I can't make other bigger women go on that journey. What I feel about this picture is probably more about opinion than fact, but it's still hurtful. I've always thought that there's a line between comedic self-depreciation, and hurtful jabs that are meant to hurt. There's also that kind of hurt you KNOW is there, but you stand there with glass eyes trying to pretend like it doesn't hurt, and your personality is made of steel.

This is just me.

But....

If a man walked up to me with a shirt like that on, he would be standing by himself. My standards wouldn't allow him any time or affection. We would not be talking, drinking, grinding, or exchanging information. We would not be posing together. This is all over the Internet, and you know people are talking and saying the worst. Some people, anyway.

Mediocrity has a way of presenting itself. With a shirt like that, he probably feels like he can give her anything and she'll be happy with it, because it's attention. I hate this. I absolutely hate this. There are so many people out there who think that us bigger/fatter women should just take what we can get, because nobody wants us. Or, because our phones and love lives are always dusty. I mean, yeah I was in a drought for years after my last ex, but I maintained standards.

Why would I settle for the worst somebody can give me, when I have so much love to give? How is that any part of an equal exchange?

You know, I don't ever think that I am so terribly beautiful that no one will do. I joke and call myself a bear, but I'm still like...."I'm a pretty bear". I have a hormonal imbalance that puts hair everywhere, my makeup skills suck, and my fashion is questionable, but it took a long time for me to get here. To look in mirrors, to strut on streets, to look ahead when crappy people stare and giggle and snort.

Why would I go back? Why would I stop loving myself?

But then again, maybe she's made of tougher stuff, and can take the joke. Maybe it's Photoshop! What if that's the truth, and some jerk with mediocre skills put forth the effort to add words to his shirt? I guess it's all peculiar to me. Why would someone want to pose with a dude wearing a shirt like that? I guess I have a problem with the stupid caption talking about dude is "real".

I have a problem with the fact that dude has to be drunk to be with her. Like....see how that's not a joke anymore? That's straight up cruelty. If you have to do all that with somebody, you might as well find your actual type. It's pathetic to come after someone you think is "weak" or "unwanted".

This is the "call to action" part where I tell you to love yourself and set higher standards than some dude with a crappy shirt on. The part where I also tell you that the journey to self love in a fatphobic world is incredibly difficult. No part of it is easy, but the reward of loving yourself lasts a lifetime. Jerks will be jerks. That part will never stop. You stay on the Internet long enough, you come to find that's the absolute truth. All you can do, seriously, is work on yourself. Work on loving yourself.

Fandom Talk

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Williams) — Thu, 04 May 2017 22:06:00 +0000

This is commentary comedy but I'm hoping you get that.
I'm not actually mad. Don't. Take. This. Seriously.
It's opinion.

If you know me, you know I love Prince. If you get bored enough and want to Google me, you'll find that I use references from his songs for my usernames. If you didn't, now you know. (If you didn't care, you probably should stop reading this blog and spread your delightful feelings on a message board or something.)

I know he wasn't perfect. Who is? He was great, ground-breaking, and wrote/created some of the best music we have to this day. It's timeless, it's got something for every mood. The world knows he was talented, and his fans celebrate that fact with his musical legacy almost daily. We're no different from the Lambily (Mariah Carey fans), Little Monsters (Gaga's people), or The Beyhive (Beyonce's clan of fans). I can admit that we're a little koo-koo sometimes, but it's all out of love. We sort of assume/hope that our friends and family respect our fandom, and try not to use it against us to make points. It gets a little problematic, especially for super and ultra fans. All we ask is that you don't go there. PLEASE. If we gotta respect your fandoms, don't roll up into ours talking mess. Especially if we're talking galactic apples and high-end musical oranges.

Don't go there.

Full stop, pump the brakes, turn around, go home.

I knowwww there are no Internet or social rules about this, but it's how fights start, people. Grouchy, crazy, stupid, grapes-in-your-eyes fights. It's simple: respect the fandom. Now, there's exceptions. Tumblr is a prime example. Tumblr is the home to the nuttiest fandoms. Fandoms where people think Columbine and the shooters are cool. Or that Meth is awesome. Or stuff like stealing and French kissing dogs is tip-topitty. That's the line, it needs to be drawn, and here's a nun to kink shame you to Heck for it. You're doing a bad thing, and this nun is waiting for you with a big ruler and a wagging finger.

But when it comes to Prince? The fine sexy muthaf*cker below? No touchy. He does not belong in your argument. You will never eat my giant Twix Bars again if you do it. Leave. Prince. Alone.

We mourn his loss because he's gone too soon. If you can't handle that, log off. We respect your fandoms (most of us do), and tend to call out bandwagon folks 'cause it's funny. My argument, yesterday, wasn't about actual fans--it was more about people who post overkill and never have really set foot into the fandom a day in their lives. Or the obnoxious people who just post and post and post, flooding the crap outta everything. The other person brought up Prince and how everyone respected when we mourned his death and celebrated his birthday.

...Okay? That's what people do? What's your point? All fandoms celebrate specific days. It's a little bit bigger, depending on the show/celebrity/movie. However, can we leave PRINCE outta this? Can we NOT use him? At all? He's awesome, we're still mourning, and it's not like you don't have a choice to unfollow or unfriend people who do too much for you. Just sayin'. Before it's pointed out--yes, we know fandoms suffer losses too. A lot of us have ties to your losses, or out of respect want to send condolences. So it's not about a celeb or a piece of entertainment being better than another. I think (with the exception of super screwed up fandoms that actually have hurt people or are super socially unacceptable...) fandoms around this world should be respected. It's heard and understood/

Still--

Prince is everything to me. If you love Roni, you won't go there.

(If you don't love me, you'll probably go there. And I'll mail glitter to your house.)

These Tresses Are Made For Twistin'

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Williams) — Fri, 28 Apr 2017 18:56:00 +0000

It seems like my favorites strive to no longer be my faves at a certain point. First Pharrell with the "New Black", Raven Symone and that crazy tail Oprah interview, various rappers and their disdain for Black women or Black women with dark skin, Stacey Dash for...being Stacey Dash (honestly I thought she was cool when I was a kid!), and recently, Luvvie and her mess. Now, it's coming to the bathroom/bedroom/places where hair happens to get done. It's coming for my hair. (and my body, because I loved the lotion and body wash.) This is what happens when inclusion goes wrong.

I don't need to name names. You know what you did with that video, company in question. You know how you tried to fix it--a new video and a stupid a** cover on FB, and an apology, but you failed. You failed, but gained a fanbase of people who've never used your products (and just want to talk mess and see Black women upset), and those who are using it, and don't get what this is about. It's been a messy week, but in the end I realized that I don't want to give my dollars to a company who can't even bother to represent me and my hair type in their little "hair hate" video. I have all your crap in my bathroom, use it daily to keep my tresses in check, but you can't represent me? I went through true hate concerning this hair.

I WENT THROUGH HAIR HATE. I STILL DO.

I have thick, nappy (but proud of these naps!), dark brown 4b and 4c hair that got poofy and wild in the Summer, hair grease and hot combs be damned. I went through the burns of creamy crack, a grandmother who eventually said it was "too much to handle", and stares and snickers in my grown years when I made the journey back. I HAVE GONE THROUGH TRUE HAIR HATE. Having my hair be called crackhead hair, having people ask when do I comb it or if I am going to straighten it. Having grown, usually old White ladies staring at me as if I've lost my mind, then clearing their throats to shame me or get the attention of friends. I have been called a field hand and a field n-word when I wear scarves and turbans.

2010 was the year of scarves.

And in 2012 I cut it all off.

I have gone through the personal feelings of shame and low self-worth, wondering why it was so kinky, and not soft and smooth like some of the girls I went to school with. I refuse to return to heat and chemicals, but let me tell you--the road has indeed been long and hard. Their so called "hair hate" in this video is this top layer, 3c and under mess with fair-skinned Black and White women with red hair and I guess "hair you don't know what to do with" mess.

I first went natural in 2008.

MY hair hate went deeper. Tangles, hard to find products that didn't dry it out or break it off. Family concerns at the start, and honestly some days coveting the natural hair of others. You wanna talk hair hate? INCLUDE WOMEN WITH THE 4a-4c hair. WE. HAVE. STORIES. But the thing is, I guess that's not good for marketing. Interesting. Gotta push that product, huh?

I have read the crappy posts by people who think my hair is a mess. Not directly to me, but about me. With pictures, with harsh words, and opinions nobody asked for. I have seen my fellow sistas be dogged for choosing to go natural, to color it, and to refuse to straighten it. I have been told that my hair is not professional, and will be "too big" for certain jobs. Or that it is unkempt or ghetto. And that's when I decided to work for myself. It's a slow climb, but I'll be damned if it chop this or apply heat to it.

Wash day is usually
full of their products.

So when a company who was funded by Black women decides to expand, we hold our breath. When they are acquired by larger, mainstream companies known for Whiteness and exclusion, we sigh heavily. We are afraid it will be Carol's Daughter all over again. This keeps happening. Companies that are "for us" end up going mainstream after a merger or a purchase, and suddenly formulas change. Suddenly we are wiped out and don't matter anymore. It's a slap in the face. I will gladly use the last of what I have to move on to other products. They do great things for my hair, but refuse to represent me until they're under fire for it. I'm good.

Breaking up will be hard to do, but I think I can manage. I'd rather support a company who celebrates customers, instead of isolating and alienating them because others who're just being included are uncomfortable with Black faces. Meanwhile we've had to fight to get our products in stores, instead of having to order out or be shoved in a corner with the "ethnic products". Let me tell you--sometimes going into our own neighborhoods leaves us with grease and relaxer kits, or "natural" products that really aren't. Trust me--hair hate and the struggle of the natural goes deeper than hating hair color. It's budgets, confidence, and trying to combat a lot of BS.

The snooty commentary from people who "don't get it", or tell us to get over it means nothing. Especially if you are not a Black person. ESPECIALLY if you are a non-Black PoC. Solidarity be damned, right? What a time to throw us under the bus. We see you. You're not that great, just because you have normal hair too. Yet some of you expect BLM to show up when something happens. We're mad for a reason. We're not going to buy the product anymore. I'm on my last leg with lots of their stuff, and although it still works for my hair, I refuse to be a patron to a company who funked up so badly in the first place, then decided to try and fix it by 4 PM.

SMOOTH MOVE SHEA MOISTURE!!!

The audacity of the company, the comments on "it's not about race", and the fools who've never tried it a day in their life. They're (the ones who've never tried it, and it's not for them.) willing to ruin their hair with oily and creamy products not meant for their hair type. You can't spite me by doing that. Just like you can't fix the damage done. Thumbs all the way down. Especially to those whom the product works for. Just be honest, you want us to go away and not make a fuss.

Get.

The f*ck

Outta.

Here.

Y'all want to sit there and act like it wasn't Black women who had a mighty natural need who tossed their dollars and online orders to you. Y'all wanna act brand new like the beauty gentrification ain't in full effect. If this is how you choose to isolate your original customer base, you're doing a great job. It's one thing to have products for everyone, but still represent them. It's another to do that, and only represent one side of it. Now watch me save my money and go elsewhere. My top choices of change are:

TGIN (which hails from Chicago, whuuut!)
Aunt Jackie's
Bee Mine
Oyin Handmade
EDEN Bodyworks
Taliah Waajid

I am on the move to other things, and for companies who fearlessly post Black women of all shades with all kinds of different hair textures. My coins will go to companies who believe in giving props and good customer service to those who supported them first. That means not changing the formula, that means not putting us at the back of the bus....

...And that means doing right in the beginning, not getting your PR team together when the ratings go down on your FB page. When you do right from the start, you have nothing to worry about.

All Good Things, They Say, Never Last--A Year Later

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Williams) — Sat, 22 Apr 2017 04:58:00 +0000

It's been a full year since the world lost Prince, since my super-long post, and the moment when millions of his fans went into a state of mourning and shock that will never end. Prince was a wonderful and talented person who brought folks from all walks of life together to groove. There are so many questions to be answered, still. So many revelations that seem to be making things complicated, and more merch than most of us can fit in our little altars/corners/rooms in his honor. I want it all, and I'm probably gonna go broke getting earrings, necklaces, and tshirts at this rate.

Recently, I had to dismantle my Prince corner due to a disaster that fell upon the home I was living in. It broke my heart to see my little altar taken apart. I'm glad I took one last picture before anything else happened. I can't afford to go anywhere to celebrate him, let alone a Paisley affair. I'm still pretty sad about that, but I am going to celebrate his music, paint my nails purple, and wear something cute to bed. I've been wearing an amethyst bracelet, The Love Symbol on my necklace, and my purple class ring in his honor. I would have dressed for it, but sadly being removed from the home meant that I was unable to grab all my Princely effects to make the best of the day.

And of course, my Gaia Avatars were poppin' in his honor, just like last year.

But alas--I wear purple all the time. I listen to his music all the time. I visit the Prince group on FB, and connect with fellow fans often. I live, love, and remember him all the time.

I miss him dearly, and I don't think that hole will ever be filled. Although I don't feel the same deep brokenness as other fans, the pain is still there. The loss is still there. The tears come whenever I hear Sometimes It Snows In April, and I feel a kind of sadness hearing Gold.

It really has been a year, and it seems like time went by so fast.

April 21st--the hardest day for the Purple Army.

RIP, Prince.

So Long, Farewell, You've Lost It.

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Williams) — Wed, 12 Apr 2017 16:31:00 +0000

What do you do when one of your hometown favorites writes the most snooty, rotten, respectability politics, hypocritical piece of work?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

No rants, no raves, no hullabaloos, just silence.

Unfollow, delete, set book on fire.

No words.

Bye Luvvie.

(All the best with your new fanbase, who support this freshly penned nonsense.)

FastMail Dumped Me!

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Williams) — Sun, 09 Apr 2017 07:47:00 +0000

Honestly, I don't even remember why I signed up for an account. I think it was just to have something for job searches and leads, but it ended up being a super crapfest of low-budget spammers who decided to try and pander their garbage over and over and over. (Wall of shame here, blog about it here.) I suppose that's why I'm so unbothered. With the exception of a few accounts I will need to change, everything else can fade into the distance.

Family members who hardly talk to me? Welp, sorry. Email is about to fade out Summer of this year. HMU on Facebook. Bring gum.
Annoying spam bots talking about they're veterans with gold bars for me? Fade to black.
Fake spammers trying to fix this dog and pony show? Byeeeeeee!
Calendars, reminders, spam blockers? Babe, that's GMail. Handled.

Why should I pay for something that GMail does for free? I'm not about to pay 3-4 bucks a month just for a basic email account that still doesn't know the difference between spam and actual mail.

So long, good night, and all that jazz.

Lovely Flowers, Lovely Moments.....

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Williams) — Wed, 29 Mar 2017 00:58:00 +0000

I'm dusting off the cobwebs. I've deleted all the drafts that would have kept this crap-fest running, and now I'm back to talk about my point-and-click obsession: NATURE.

I must capture nature. I must go outside and take pictures of winter wonderlands and summer solstice sensuality. I NEED to sprint to seep in the spectacle of spring. In other words, I think I'm a photographer, and I grab my iPhone or digital camera to capture what real photographers do for a living. I want it to be my job, but I'm so old that I don't really speak on that dream. Besides, I've already screeched at the entire world since the age of 15 that I want to be a writer. (I also was interested in Computer Forensics, but THAT got shot down because people thought it was about CSI. Uh, NO. It was about doing something I thought was interesting.)

I'm pretty sure most professionals and people who are much deeper into the hobby will say they're al bad, but I feel a rush and a deep comfort in the moments where I'm "getting that shot". I feel serene, I feel like I'm drawn in the moment, and I don't think of anything else. So lemme puff out my chest (and bear belly) to show you the stuff I do when I go outside. I become one with nature, I sing the body electric, and I get a little sweaty. (Also, birds sometimes flock together because I toss bread outside.)

Celebrate, this will be the shortest post in my blog. Nothing but pics.

An Earworm Just For You

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Williams) — Thu, 16 Feb 2017 20:05:00 +0000

I keep trying to find stuff to write about on this thing, making it as non-journaly as possible. There are draft darlings just sitting there, collecting dust and hoping I'll edit and publish them someday. Sorry kids, it probably won't be happening. Instead, allow me to show you the one video I have to watch 900 times a day, because I love my baby cousin very, very much. I want her to smile and be happy. I want her little brain to be stimulated and expand.

I also want her to stop ripping up tissue paper. I....kinda need that.

I bring you: Tooty-Ta.

It's nothing new, it's something most kids have done in preschool or whatever. It will melt your brain, it will stick in your head. Congratulations, I've shared an ear worm with you.

Thumbs up, elbows back, feet apart, knees together.

Fat & I KNOW It, Bub.

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Williams) — Wed, 25 Jan 2017 09:32:00 +0000

The relationship I've had with this body, as in noticing it was a different kind of body, happened when I was about six or seven years old. I was attending the now defunct St. Killian School in Chicago, IL. The little boy I had a crush on simply said to all his friends "she was too fat for me. I was just playin' her, anyway". Ouch.

I can't tell you the sordid reindeer games we were playing in the coatroom, but when we all got caught, he let it be known that I wasn't worth it at all. And that's when I noticed--the slimmer girls got the play, the thicker girls had their fun, and the rest of us were just straight up targets. I got used to this, by the way. Tired of it though. To combat it, I sort of got into my zone with comics, toys, music, anime, and computers. Later, that branched off into writing. However, I will spare you the long and annoying sob story of a fat little girl who grew up to be a fat woman.

Let me get to the point. In the big bad city known as Chicago, people have told me to my face and behind my back that I am fat. Have made jokes, have extended relentless cruelty, and have pretty much enabled me to put up the wall that's always a line of defense. At the same time, I try very hard not to let that stop me from living, from educating myself, and from liking who I am. The wall isn't always up, and I treasure the people who've made the climb over.

Back when I had a supper crappy webcam,
and was on the Adult Swim Message Boards.

Dealing with all of this isn't exactly perfect. Some days are awesome, some days aren't. When I try to explain all of complicated twists and turns of it, sometimes it's difficult to get understanding about what it's like. Folks have hearts in the right places, but the scars can sometimes still be there after all the cleanses and fat burners to a healthier body. I'm not afraid of that, by the way; of course I want to lose weight and feel my personal best. Still, I'm in this body on that journey. Why should I hate myself? Why should I act like self-love is easy? It isn't.

Let's be real--I don't walk around thinking to myself: "nope, nope not fat. Not today! Deny, deny, deny!" I see the fat. I squish the fat. When I see nice things I wanna wear, I dress the dang fat, lol. I see it, baby. And so does the whole world.

My adventures on Tumblr pretty much gave me the courage to love myself more, and to accept the flaws, the struggles, and the idiots--online and off--who just can't help themselves. It's amazing how people act, sometimes. Mad dogs willing to attack perfect strangers, "concern trolls" who want to tell you how to live, and a host of fools who're just bored. I decided I was tired. Tired of hating myself, tired of hiding myself--which at my size is IMPOSSIBLE. I was also tired of feeling like I needed to frickin' explain myself, too. So I decided to do two things--dress how I want, and DEFEND. MYSELF. Why hide in fear?

Nichiren Buddhism also mellowed me out a lot about this whole body image and self-love thing. I can be a real butt-head sometimes, but I'm here on a mission to spread some kosen-rufu, dang it. I'm here to work on myself. I want to be positive and polish my mirror. I don't want to ever give up. There's hope in this hopeless world, and I want to be a part of it. I also want to spread that to other people, unapologetically. Like Janelle says.....

I stay taking selfies. I have the audacity to be fat, AND self-absorbed lol. Totally a Millennial, right? On good days when I'm feelin' myself, on bad days when my hormonal imbalance and dusty look is in effect, and on artsy days when all you see is are certain parts. Again, it's not always a great thing, but I decided to try and love all the parts of who I am. So that's why yesterday, when this bird-chested child from my hometown TRIED it, I had to laugh. The best he could offer me was to state the obvious?

If that's all you got, then you might as well keep it to yourself, idiot.

Beloved, spew your vitrol. Think that you're hurting me, if it makes you feel better. How does it bring me down? I was fat last Thursday when I was in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee. I was fat when my pal in GA took me to the movies to see Rogue One. I was fat (and fabulous) on his birthday, in my black dress.

My thing is this--unless you're about to help and pay for me to "fix the fat", your commentary means nothing. Especially coming from a child with his tiny, ashy chest exposed, trying to come for me just because I wasn't here for Chrisette Michelle's mess. I'll be fat tomorrow, too. I'll be fat in the Spring, the Summer, Fall, and Winter. I'll be fat when I get my BA from UT Martin. Fat when I get a piece of fruit later tonight. I'll be fat, even when I lose 60 pounds. I'm built like my dad, with legs like my mother. I was not born into a thin frame.

Why do folks think that calling fat people what they are is hurtful? It doesn't hurt me. It assures me that your eyes work. It means your jokes, with emojis, are probably all you have. It also means you're a hypocrite, because you've probably told folks you're a "good/nice/mellow" person. It doesn't hurt me like it used to, because I know who I am. If people want to judge me based on my weight, that's their problem. And if you're disgusted by me, that's fine. Be disgusted. Here's the thing about levels of relevancy in the world of Veronica:

If I know you, love you, care for you--then yes the power to hurt me may be greater.
If you're a nobody, a stranger, some idiot with a big mouth--your words roll off the same fat body you called out.

You're also from Chicago. Your clapback game is weak, dude! F-minus for you! Put on a shirt and worry about yourself! All that, over me not liking Chrisette Michelle's mess? Did you really think that was gonna put me in my place? Riiight.

So...

Er...

Thanks for playing?

(This probably would have worked out much better if I weren't 31 freaking years old, and really, really not in the same young and jittery headspace I was in when I was 19. Roni don't currrrrr.)

Lulz, Interwebz mess.

Delish.Com Twix Bars Recipe

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Williams) — Fri, 16 Dec 2016 22:09:00 +0000

*dusting off the old blog*

Yeah, it's been a while, and all three of you who read this dog and pony show probably don't even come by anymore. Which is fine, but I need to crack my knuckles and get into the groove. So here we go.

Twix bars.

The stuff that (sweet) things are made of, the candy that keeps dentists happily employed, and the one thing that helped me gain the Freshman 30 (funk 15!) when I was a student at Seton Academy like 400 years ago. I'd been eating them for years prior to high school, but the luxury of being near them daily sort of secured the fact that there was always one in my messenger bag. To make a long, sticky, crunchy story short, they're heavenly, empty calorie salvation for yours truly. I will arm wrestle you for a Twix.

Thanksgiving rolls around, and as always I contribute something. It's just a thing, you know? I tend not to make actual dishes, because I'm not ready for my culinary premiere yet. I'll be that one Black woman in all of America that'll ruin the macaroni, and have everyone taking pics and making memes for days. I usually keep it safe with dessert. This year's dessert came from Delish. I saw it on somebody's Facebook post, watched the prep video, and decided this was the dish of my dreams.

Of course I want to make Twix bars. Of COURSE I want to eat squares, and not tiny stick bars. Are you kidding me? I'm 31 years old, with an eight year old in the back of my head itching for sugar and stuffed animals. The chance to make a giant candy bar is the ultimate project!

The recipe is pretty simple. Three layers, a little time to cool off, and you're done. I advise you to make sure your shortbread cookie layer is evenly pressed. Press down, press tight, make use of every single layer of your pan. But, if you don't care about an even surface (as I kinda didn't!), then press openly and be free!

After I let mine get to room temperature, I was in heaven. The crunch of the shortbread layer, the sticky goodness of the caramel, and the semi-sweet chocolate all go hand in hand. It's like a sugar sandwich with a cookie and chocolate as the bread. It all just melts together in your mouth in a way that makes you close your eyes and groan in dessert ecstasy.

The entire thing can be created rather quickly (almost within an hour's time), with the shortbread being the easiest layer. It's also the part requiring the longest care, as it needs to be cooled off before you can make the other layers. The caramel layer requires a little patience and a good eye, as it can easily burn without constant attention. The chocolate chip melting is pretty self-explanatory. So, you really can't screw this recipe up unless you're super bad with all things culinary.

The beautiful, finished product.

The shock and amazement of the deliciousness
just overcame Granny Ellen!

Wisdom from the baking lady: These will not last. If you live in a home where there are at least two lovers of sugar and sweets, these ain't gonna last past 7 days. You have been warned! Save a few in your secret quarters. Mine were grandma approved, so I know I did a good job. When I came back from my Thanksgiving trip, they were almost gone. Happy creating and baking!

8/8/2016: Extraction Day

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Williams) — Sun, 28 Aug 2016 08:03:00 +0000

Last entry, I was warbling about my jacked up teeth and how four of them needed to be removed. Two weeks later, I'm down three wisdom teeth, with one still in my mouth. My oral surgeon said it was too high up, and getting to it would be super invasive. He gave me the choice between removing 3 or 4, and of course I leapt at the opportunity to lower my bill and my pain. The price tag was...pricey, but it's not as bad as it could have been.

For some goofy Roni-based reason, I felt like it would make me feel better if I wore makeup, and if my outfit was purple themed. Granted the whole affair of prepping myself for oral surgery made me feel like a pretty ol' Bear Woman, I'm pretty sure the attendants didn't notice my delicate, purple eyeshadow. Or eyeliner. Or mascara.

Nobody did.

I need to blend better.

Hashtag: #makeupfail.
Hashtag: #RoniGotsNoEyeshadowGame.
Hashtag: #MyMakeupIsALWAYSTerrible.

ANYWAY.

I arrived at Dr. Bobo's awesome office in Murray, KY, filled out paperwork, sat quietly, and make small talk with my aunt as I waited. I was nervous, but educated on the procedure. I spent weeks and weeks researching food and medicine. I looked up aftercare necessities, and prepped myself with everything from pillows to jello. Thinking of all the food I'd have to give up for three long weeks, I chanted in my head and looked forward to a pain-free experience.

Now, the night before, I was tossing and turning like a drug-free BEAST. I. Was. In. PAIN. Throbbing, aching, twingy, twitchy, there-is-a-bone-in-my-face-making-everything-HURT pain. I would wish this on no one, not even that guy who stiffed me on my Wii refund. Not my exes, not former friends, not even that guy I got into an e-fight with in BuzzFeed's comment section on YouTube. I was up from 2 AM until 1:50 PM with a face full of pain. I was READY to get the culprit and his future partners in crime outta my face. Literally. Bye teeth!

Mouth full of gauze and
drool and blood.
But still cute.

After the nurse finally found a vein in my big, fat arm, the show began. I was wide awake, on an IV to numb me up and calm me down. Three 15 minute rounds. It was a tiny bit of a blur, despite my eyes being wide open. It wasn't out-of-body, but I couldn't really move. I felt like I was half awake/half not there. I felt a little pressure/pain for 2 minutes, and then...nothing. They worked on my face, I have no idea what they used, and I remember hearing some crappy Rock station playing hits from 2002. I drifted. I thought of my mom, I thought of the crappy cell signal, and I wondered what their Wifi password was. I knew they were in my face, but I wasn't....completely aware. I thought of everything, and wondered why I was so afraid. Even the IV needle only pinched.

When it ended, I didn't act like those loopy people you see on videos and stuff. I was a little off balance. I tried not to topple over the poor tiny blonde lady helping me walk. She led me to a waiting room, and I sat and mellowed out with a numb face full of gauze until she gave me the greenlight to go home.

Oh.

I kept my teeth because I'm weird and gross.

I just wanted to look at them. If you're curious enough, you can look at them too! Whee! Fair warning, blood. Lots of blood. Gross, bright red, fresh blood with tooth pieces.

After surgery, we came back home and picked up my delightful Percocet and other stuff from Walgreen's. I felt woozy, but I felt okay enough to be myself. No drugs were needed to be Roni. I acted a little silly, with a mouth full of gauze, blood, and drool. I had to. I wanted to ground myself for a while. I think my aunt thought the medicine was making me dance in the aisles, lol. When I got home, I popped a pill before taking my rest on my lovely bed of pillows, and read People Magazine, While Prince and Norah Jones helped me mellow out.

Fast forward to now.

(I actually wrote this about a week ago, and have actually been eating lots of hard and crunchy things since the start of this past week lol.)

I miss meat. I miss crunchy things. I miss things that require lots of chewing. I've upgraded a little bit from mostly soft foods, but I can't have anything super hard for another two weeks. I've been eating jello, pudding, yogurt, ice cream, and mashed potatoes for a full week. I snuck a piece of meat a few times, and paid for it. It was soft meat, but my tender mouth was like "dude, no. We're not ready." I've listened to Brak 900 times, thinking of all the good stuff I'm gonna eat when this is all behind me. (Hands up for Cartoon Planet tho! That was my SHOW.)

My pain factor hasn't been very high, save for a few throbs or mild pressure every now and then. Most of it is me talking too much or laughing too hard. Or smacking gum (I KNOW. SUE ME. ORAL FIXATION.), or just being Roni. After I pop an Aleve or Ibuprofen, it's all good. I've only had 2 of the 14 Percocet since the 8th. Mostly tenderness and a coppery taste, as I try NOT to bust these stitches or injure myself.

So...yeah.

(Note: I wrote this like the first week after my oral surgery. Again, I've been nomming on hard foods like the giant bear of a woman I am.)

I took it easy those first few days, because I was dizzy with tender mouth. Then I took it easier, because my body was protesting from not having meat. I'm feeling a little bit better, and I'm upgrading to soup this week. At least soup has STUFF in it. I LIKE STUFF!! As long as it's soft enough, I can have it. I'm thinking cream of everything.

Hopefully by my birthday, my face will be willing, ready, and able to eat things I like. I'm feelin some popcorn from Nuts on Clark, some chocolate covered Macadamia nuts, a big ol nasty burrito, some nachos, and my favorite--PIZZA. HUT. I'm also wanting Arby's meatball sandwich thing. I just....I just want all the things.

(And some lobster bisque from Omaha Steaks. That's my fancy uppah crust jam, baby.)

I'm just GLAD that one evil tooth is out of my mouth. No more getting up every six to eight dang hours to pop a pill JUST to survive the day. The other two weren't hurting, but were big enough to start their own oral war in time. It took THIS long for the one to start poppin. I'm DONE wit it, baby!

WOO.

I look forward to being able to eat harder foods again.

Especially Doritos.

Cool. Ranch.

So Long, Wisdom Teeth!

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Williams) — Fri, 22 Jul 2016 20:55:00 +0000

A section of my upper gums and one wisdom tooth have been bumpin' harder than a Chicago House party in the 90's. Eventually, the gum pain stopped. But that wisdom tooth?

Since then, I've been taking pain meds, swishing home remedies, kickin' it with the Anbesol and Rexall, and just flat out trying to find some oral peace and quiet once more. Tea has been my friend, chewing (most things) my enemy. I considered whiskey, but out of respect for my fam's home, Roni ain't bringin' whiskey to the crib.

So, I caved. HARD.

I went to the closest dentist I could find in-network, I got examined by the ultra-hunky Dr. Fletcher.....

And then BOOM:

"I don't want to scare you, but you have to get all 4 of your wisdom teeth out."

He said it so nicely, so I was kinda lost in his gorgeous face while the news slowly cascaded into my brain. I figured...you know, maybe ONE would have to come out. FOUR? Okay. Not only is this fixin' to cost cash, but this is going to put me on a soup, pudding, gauze and pill diet for a hot minute. All. Four. Wisdom. Teeth. Now, on the upper side, I got to take a picture of my X-Ray, and this one didn't get all up in my mouth with tools and metal. I stood in front of a machine, wore a super heavy apron, bit down on a thing, and stood there.

I really think one side of my gums got damaged from having that metallic apparatus shoved in my mouth when I was in Chicago. It didn't start hurting, however, until years later.

So yeah, I'm going to Murray, KY the 8th of August. I had a choice between that date and the 27th, and that seemed too close for comfort. My jacked up teeth and I are hoping for a better oral future. Luckily none of the wisdom teeth were impacted or infected, just...big. O_o Full grown, and sort of trapped between the gumline. The culprit in question has been bumpin' on and off since my late 20's. My previous dentist in Chicago was trying to wait until it surfaced, but 2 yrs and a move to TN later--they've got to come out.

Countdown to removal....

How To Cope In Times of Stress

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Williams) — Tue, 12 Jul 2016 10:57:00 +0000

When is there ever downtime? Unfortunately it is rare, because we really don't know about every person who has died as a result of police brutality, massacres, bombings, and so forth. We never know until it happens, and it's easy to stay glued to your TV, social media, and other forms of communication to catch every single detail. After a while, glued turns into obsession, and obsession can lead to some erratic behavior.

I know a lot of people think that self-care is "a tumblr thing", but it's been around longer than that. If you have a ritual for cooling down/mellowing out, you've done self-care before. It means a lot of different things to people, so what works for one person might not work for you. The idea is to take a break--long or short--to gather yourself before immersing your person back into whatever it was that was boiling your potato.

I really think with all the shootings, the deaths, and Internet drama, it's important to step back. Yes, you will miss some stuff, but you will also be stepping away from stupid comments, arguments, and flat out ignorance. When you're ready to weather the Internet storm, you come back. If not, stay in your zone for as long as possible. The basic idea of self-care isn't to completely disconnect from the world, but to find a good balance between caring for yourself, and being a functioning human being in society.

However, some people might need longer to disconnect and reconnect again. In some cases, you might need to leave spaces completely. That's okay. Sometimes the excitement and drama is taxing on the soul, and self-care may turn into a need to get professional or faith-based help. For me, that means continuing to chant/pray every single day for kosen-rufu. For someone else, that could mean going to church, attending meetings/rap sessions (you can tell how old I am. RAP. SESSIONS.), or consulting one-on-one with a preacher/pastor/religious leader for advice and guidance.

Self-care takes on many forms, and I just wanted to share what I like to do when I need to chill out. You can incorporate these rituals in your life daily, or in spells. Don't let anyone tell you how you can and cannot use your moment/moments of self-care. As long as you aren't hurting anyone physically or emotionally/mentally, you're all right.

Here are some of my self-care rituals and tips.

A good ol' hot shower. The hotter, the better. I bring along my iPhone, turn on my bluetooth speaker, and either fire up iHeartRadio, AccuRadio, or Spotify. Sometimes I have my own music. I listen to artists with soothing voices like Prince, Remy Shand, Sade, and Esperanza Spalding. Sometimes when I'm a touch more upset, I'll revert to the music of my teen years--Linkin Park. Or, I'll listen to orchestrated versions of Final Fantasy songs. There is something about warm water, sweetly scented body wash, and a good song that cleanses the emotions.
Play Dress-Up. We often played these games as children, enjoying our little kits and sets. As adults, the same can be applied. Work on your makeup technique! Dive in your closet and get cute! Take selfies, make a video. Enjoy the moment and feel beautiful. Come up with new looks and show the world!
Date Night. When's the last time you went out? Could be just you, could be some friends, could just be a trip to the store for goodies. I'll spare you the sordid erotica of "Netflix and Chill solo edition", but you get the idea. You might be home in your favorite loungewear, and that's okay. Take yourself to your favorite place, enjoy.
Movie Night. Which...tecnhically could be date night, but stick with me. Dig into your collection, go to CouchTuner, flip around on the TV. Binge watch, maybe get into a new series, have your snacks, and recite those lines you know like the back of your hand.
Spa Treatments. It's cheaper to do at home, but maybe you want someone else to do it for you. Manicures, pedicures, facials. Massages, or just lounging around in your robe all day with some instrumental nature music. Get worked on/work on yourself. Unwind and focus on your happiness in the moment.
Writing. This one is painfully obvious, but it's a great way to write what I'm feeling. Family and friends (and former boyfriends) know all too well the kind of macabre spider-web ridden prose I write in my freetime. I use this outlet to express what's bothering me, instead of...you know...taking it out on actual people. Since I'd like to become a writer or poet someday, why not flex my writing skills and "get the feels out" at the same time? Write anything. Write good things about yourself, write about what you'd like to change. Just. Write.
Art. No, the kid can't draw. I can't paint, either. Meanwhile, I have a deviantArt full of odds and ends from moments where I wanted to get something off my chest. Obviously "art" applies to much more than the pad, the paint, and the brush. "Art" is a rather objective term. Whether or not it's good is another story....(which is often argued to death. Oh my goodness. O_o) So just have fun with it. I open up CS5 and go crazy making digital abstract art. There's nothing "great" about it, but it feels gewwwd, man.
Reading. Get with a good book. Get lost in the world of the characters. Ann Hunter's books are a great place to start. (A Piece of Sky, The Subtle Beauty) A good book makes you think, get involved, and hopefully take your time absorbing the work. Learn something new, or brush up on old topics. Digital or paperback--a whole new world awaits you.
Hobbies or Projects. Now is a good thing to get involved with that thing you either like, or need to do. Organize your files. Paint that...I dunno...the spice rack? Get some jars and origami star strips, and start a new wish jar. Immerse yourself in something you're good at, or test the waters with something brand new. Be bold, be free, have a good time.
YouTube For Laughter/Mirth. This is actually a bit of a double edged sword. While YouTube is full of fun, mirth, Markiplier (*swoon*), and Let's Plays, it's a hotbed for attention seekers, conspiracy theorists, and clickbait jerks. I guess if you're into that, those kinds of creators are up your alley. A lot of them use super problematic language that turns me off. HOWEVER--when I want to laugh, I watch JacksFilms, The Odd 1s Out, Markiplier, and MacDoesIt. If they don't have anything new, I sort of surf around to find funny or touching videos. This is the perfect site to find old songs and videos from your past.
Window shopping--Internet style. Granted we all know about the evils of consumerism and greed, the idea of window shopping is just to look. You don't have to buy if you don't want to, and I don't suggest going into debt just to get that thing you like. It's easy. Go to Amazon, eBay, or wherever you like to shop and start a wishlist. It could be for games you want, a project or hobby you want to get into, or ideas for your future home. Aside from my main list, I have a lot of private lists full of doodads and shiny objects. It's fun to dream and plan.
Window Shopping/Actual shopping. You don't have to break the bank to have a feel good self-care session. Hit up your local beauty supply store for makeup goodies. Go to the outlet store and find some good deals for yourself/home. Go antiquing! Treat yourself, but treat your wallet nicely. Or, just browse. Take down some names, some items, and come back for them.
Farming/basic gameplay sessions. Whether it's beefing for Orphan in FF13, gathering material for recipes in FF Exvius, or just flat out crushing some objects on a random app, Playing any kind of video game or casual game is a great way to engage in modern-day self care. Take your hard feelings out on enemies, not people. Draw yourself in with repetitive music and a good soundtrack.
Music (Sans-Shower). Speaking of a good soundtrack, I have lists of them on Spotify. Some say that music soothes the soul, and speaks to the listener. When I'm not in the shower, I also like to listen to it while working. My obvious go-to is Prince, but I also like Mariah Carey, a little Phil Collins, and Seal. You can take music with you anywhere, as long as you don't get super obnoxious and let everyone else hear it too. Earbuds, my friend. Ear. Buds.
Karaoke. You are reading from someone who sounds like a murder of Crows at sunrise, backed up by nails on a chalkboard. Still, I LOVE Smule's Sing App. I love looking up old songs, new songs, and just singing along with all my lack-of-talent heart. It's a way to have fun, without the pressure.
Talk It Out. Baby, whatever it is--talk to someone. Find a group of people with whom you can have healthful conversations. Talk to your family, talk to friends. Do not suffer in silence--ESPECIALLY in the wake of tragedy.
Disconnection. Sometimes you really just need time away. As I previously said at the start of this entry, it's okay to back away from social media. 2016 has been a hot dang mess for a lot of us, and sometimes you need to mellow out. Seeing the same thing day after day gets you worked up. Take a break. Or...
Deletion. This goes two ways. Delete the people or things stressing you out, or delete your account altogether. Take a page from my dad's playbook of life: "Sometimes you just gotta cut sh*t out--right at the tip, right on the nub. Love yourself enough to know when enough is e-nough!"

Hopefully you get some ideas on how self-care works. You don't have to follow my list to the letter, and might not find my ideas that great at all. When you know what makes you feel good, you can go out into the world and make it a part of your day to iron out the wrinkles in your life. Above all else--

Always take care of yourself. Never forget "you".

BET Awards 2016: The Night Sheila E. Did The Thang

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Williams) — Fri, 08 Jul 2016 16:30:00 +0000

The 2016 BET Awards were full of Prince tributes, packed with people who loved, adored, and worked with Prince. It was an artistic feast for the eyes, heart, and soul. Where the Billboards failed us, BET threw some shady shade, and THEN delivered. This, dear reader is how you put on a tribute show. THIS, friends, is how you honor a musical genius who crossed every line, broke every rule, and created his own everythang in the process. THIS is how you honor the one we call Prince.

From Erykah Badu breaking out Dorothy Parker in her SOTT-era white fur jacket, to Bilal making panties moist with The Beautiful Ones, and Janelle Monae doing ALL that people said she would not and could not--the entire set of tributes were classy, lit, and the gravy we needed. There was NO dry turkey meat nor inflated egos on rotating thrones in THAT place. The tribute was a movement of love, and I was very pleased. I think the only things that threw me off had to be JHud just doing her own little twist to Purple Rain, and Maxwell ad-libbing a bit.

NOTICE SOMETHING, please.

They were different to me, not bad. Sound it out with me: dif-fer-ent. I get that JHud "took it to church" as Prince requested, and Maxwell changed the 7 hours and 13 days to suit the time since Prince died. I KNOW he ad-libbed to talk about everything from Spotify to doing right. I ALSO know a lot of people think us Prince Army folks are a hive mind of purple silk and lavender glitter, but trust me--there have been arguments SINCE the performance with snappy comebacks about deafness, not understanding his music, and being a "hater". It's really a difference of/in opinion, and even my first lady aunt wasn't having JHud's warbles. It wasn't that she was bad, it's just that she was....different.

Sigh.

Overall, the Prince tributes were tastefully done. I like how they made it a separate affair, instead of sticking it at the end and making artists be strapped for time. I liked how each person put their touch on it, despite not being 100% in love. However, they saved the very best for last, and that was one Miss Sheila Escovedo.

Listen, anytime she comes through, you better make sure you are READY. She puts on an amazing show, and has a track record so long that you need to put on your running shoes JUST to look at it. She blazes like a percussion BEAST on the drums, baby. She lays it down and you can feel it right in your guts! Sunday the 26th was no different, and I felt like not only did sista put her FOOT in it, she put her heart, her soul, and her entire body into the act. The love in her heart for Prince shone and blazed like white-hot fire in a moment to behold. Sheila, ma'am, you were in rare form last Sunday night. This, readers, is what we like to call "cookin'". Sheila cooked, I ate. Not only did she bring all that noise, but she had funk, and all that sooooul.

My lady slid across that stage, she whooped on that percussion, she sang her heart out, and she did some bomb-diddly-omb medleys that had the crowd jumpin'. You KNOW I'm already here for the jam better known as Housequake, but when Erotic City hit? Baby. This is the jam that got away with saying f*ck on the radio, because it sounds like "We can funk until the dawn....."! She chose the hits, so I knew every single dig-darn word! She mixed herself in with some Prince, and her timeless flare kept me dancing along. At the end, when a few of his proteges, bandmates, and fellow artists came out, it became real. When they held up the Blue Cloud Guitar (It's dark blue...so...looks like it's from the Rave era...could be wrong!), I was so touched.

Then, Mayte held on to Sister Sheila, because she could see that love about to cascade down her face. That was a defining moment. Sheila gave us a show and was on fiyah the entire time, but she is just as vulnerable as the rest of us who are fans, and who love Prince. It was such a beautiful moment. When all was said and done, I felt like BET stood behind their promise to do better. They chose the right people, for the most part. A lot of people weren't ready to hear Prince's voice, but I was just fine. It was refreshing. Just like a few still didn't like what they saw. I mean...you can't please everyone, and we all heal in different ways. You can't ignore the power on that stage, though. You can't ignore the deep feelings.

And of course.....

She opens her heart one more time to show us what Prince meant to her with Girl Meets B oy.

Sheila E. is a class act all the way, and the best person to help with the tributes. Not only did we have her, we got to see Mayte dance with The Twinz from the Planet Earth era. We got to see Shelby J and Tamar. We got to see Jerome, and a LOT of familiar faces who've been a part of Prince's magical world for quite some time. What Sheila did was amazing. What the others did--from Maye dancing to Jerome hittin' that Jungle Love shuffle (that's what I call it, and I'm sure it has a name but leave Roni alone, nitpicky people), and the backing vocals of Shelby and Tamar w/Sheila's band--was adding flavor to the tribute. They all came together, and it was all about His Royal Purple Badness.

To Madonna and Linda Perry--this is how it's done. #StillRelevant

(Get that song, people. Support Ms. Escovedo. Get all her stuff. Listen to Belle of St. Mark 900 times.)

Father's Day 2016

noreply@blogger.com (Veronica Williams) — Mon, 20 Jun 2016 16:00:00 +0000

About 434 miles separate me from the one I call my dad. 434 miles, and almost a year. June 30th, 2015, we parted ways. Not on bad terms, not on neutral ones, either. What was meant to be a vacation sort of turned into me living in Paris, TN.

It was an opportunity for me to stand on my own two feet. Car-less, job-less, and not as well-off as a lot of former classmates, but on my own two fat feet making the climb in my own life. He wanted it more than I did, and I just wanted to swim the shark-infested waters of Chicago until I graduated. He saw his kid full of worry, anxiety, and stress. He wanted something better than what I thought I'd already been given.

My dad has been lots of things to me--my heart, my art, and my greatest supporter. Challenged by those who thought he couldn't raise a 3 year old on his own, he got together with his sister and my grandmother to work it out. I think he did a great job. I mean, the world gives you a kid who eats raw bacon, got naked in pre-school because she was too hot, and suggests that bugs makes great pets, you've got a challenge on your hands. Somehow, he gracefully made it to 63 in one piece.

We laugh and sigh about the past, but it was one where he never left me. It was an imperfect one, but somehow he found the balance between doing for himself, and caring for his wild Millennial child who kept him on his toes. He was the "All-American Boomer", but he showed me sensitivity, he gave me honesty, and he introduced me into the world of dry humor. He made being nerdy fun, and he endured every single trend I ran down the hall to warble about.

The memories flood as I write. Where do I begin? My earliest memory of my dad is him putting me over his shoulder to carry me outside to the car. I remember it, because I thought he was a giant as a child. No one could beat him, no one could top him, and his beard was awesome. I remember when he got his hair processed into that jherri curl. I teased him as he misted activator. I told him he reminded me of Luther Vandross.

I close my eyes and I can see him in the various Chicago State University Engineer outfits he wore. I can hear the heavy chain of keys jangling at his side. I smell the metallic scent of a long day, and the soothing Drakkar Noir of the evening shower. I can hear him snoring after that long day, but somehow...somehow knowing when I went into the kitchen to steal a Milano cookie. In that sleepy, booming voice--"Veronica, whatchu doing girl?"

How did he know?!

He was there for campy school events like Halloween balls at the long gone St. Killian school. He sat and grinned when I was a silver bell at Vanderpoel Magnet. He probably rotted and broke a few teeth with all the taffy apples and candy sales, too. He supported me nonetheless. He only said no to incredible nonsense--like the request for a corn snake. Something about slime and mites. He couldn't be there for every event, but he tried.

He fed into my love of books by taking me to Waldenbooks and Crown Books almost every weekend in my childhood. He scoured software stores for educational CD-ROMs to help with Math and English, but also to fuel my writer and art side with titles like Hollywood and KidPix. I can't tell you how many Tamagotchis and Giga Pets I owned because of him, but I do remember having a room and chest full of toys. He spoiled his Spunkmeyer rotten, but he loved me without the material goods at the same time. He tried so hard to balance everything as a single parent.

My dad is an amazing person. I know a lot of us will be writing that in blogs and social media posts. I have been with him for 29.9 years. I have known him for a full 30. I still hear the same voice that told me to stop eating those cookies when he calls me to talk about his rose hobby. I miss him so, so much, but our time to be apart had come. That part hurt the most. Not because all the super bad-good food from Chicago is miles away, or the Keurig we shared is now a solitary tea pot, but because all of our traditions have changed. Because we are no longer 30 feet away in the brown bungalow on Racine street.

He is amazing because he worked his way up from groundskeeper to Plant Operations Engineer in 34 years. He started at 19, and retired at age 56(ish?). When his wife suddenly died, he ignored every single person who said "you can't raise her alone", and dedicated his life to making sure I had everything I needed. He was firm when he needed to be, but loving always. He gives the best hugs, and knows where all the GOOD greasy spoons are in town. He tries to understand me, although we butt heads. He is amazing because of his devotion.

There are so many stories in the 30 years he and I have been together. Lots of pictures--mostly his. What can I say about the man who endured Spice World? He is the man who gained 40 pounds eating Burger King meals when the Pokemon Movie came out, and I wanted the gold-plated cards. The man who read my teen angst with wide eyes, but didn't completely lose it when the Linkin Park-like lyrics were accompanied with salty language. I know he has his regrets about this choice, but he did his very, very best. He did not abandon me, even when I made it very hard for him by being a butt-headed child. He ate the food I burnt, endured the annoying songs of my choosing, and watched some of the most brain-rotting children's films known to man. Also, two words--Discovery. Zone.

He taught me to never give up years and years before I converted to Nichiren Buddhism. His acceptance of the challenge to raise a toddler to an adult was the shining factor that let me know one thing--anything is possible. Not because I or he said so, but because it IS so. Like Picard says many, many times--"Make it so."

(I am not a Trekkie, but the spawn of own. Please be kind if I misuse the quote lol.)

He is responsible for my love of Prince. He is the reason why hardware stores are an awesome adventure. He set the course for the kind of husband I want, and gave me every ounce of soul I have in my body. I grew up on the Southside of Chicago, but I grew UNDER him, his music taste, and absorbed a lot of culture because of him. It wasn't just the classes at Chicago State, or the cool random facts he absorbed in his years of reading books--it was mostly Ronnie David Williams just talking to me like a person. It was him, opening the mind of his crazy child and not putting down my nonsense, but encouraging me to THINK. He make me fall in love with Sci-Fi movies, and somehow encouraged my love of metaphysical concepts at the same time. What he didn't get, he asked questions about. What he knew, he gave me insight.

Pets. He got me my first co-pet with grandma at the age of seven. He kept getting birds after that fact. He is the bird guy, and bless his heart I know it took him a while to fall in love with Parakeets. He saw how much they meant to grandma and I, and continued to finance every single pair. Toys 'R' Us. 87th and Dan Ryan was our spot. Unless I had a super bad grade, he usually said yes when I asked. I had so many ponies and dogs and sparkly Sky Dancers because of him. He made all shopping trips fun. It was just the fact that I was with him that made it so great.

He is supportive of my work as an aspiring writer, and prays and pray for the day when somebody hires me lol. We have the best dialogue, and he makes me laugh. He makes me smile when I hear about the happiness in his life, and I hope I make him smile knowing that my anxiety has somewhat subsided. We are far, far apart, still growing--but it's his love that put me where I am right now. I might not be somebody's girl, wife, or whatever--but I know he loves me with all his heart.

I saw it then in the picture of him holding me the first day of my life, and I saw it again the last time we got to take a selfie together. He didn't have to spoil me, he didn't have to support me, and he sure as heck didn't have to "tell it like it is" when I needed it--but he did all these things and more, to make sure I knew somebody loved me. What more could a daughter ask for?

He exposed me to the things that he knew my mother would want me to learn about in life. He also saved me from a lot of trouble I could have easily gotten into. At times when he needed something, he put me first. He sacrificed everything to meet the challenge, and that is why he will always be #1 in my life.

Love you daddy!!!!

Happy Father's Day to you, and all the other fathers in the world.