Quarterlife Mocha Girl

NEW BLOG HOME---->Moving to Wordpress: Because I Said

2009-11-25T11:07:00.000-08:00

Ladies and Gents, I officially have a new blog home. I'm leaving Blogger (tear)! It's been great, but now I need something more, something to help me grow. A new look. A new feel. You get the idea. So here it is:

Alisha Tillery: Because I Said So (www.alishawritinglife.wordpress.com)

Stop by and link me!

Standing On My Soapbox: The Downside of Technology

2009-11-20T07:56:00.000-08:00

Unless you've been living under a rock (or you're my friend, E, who refuses to succumb to social media and she's in the IT field. She's had Gmail since 2004!), you're probably on Facebook or Twitter. Maybe both (like me). I love social media and what it's done for our world. Even better, I love what it's done for me. Without blogs, Facebook and Twitter, I wouldn't have connected with such great writers, editors and bloggers. These blogs and articles make me think in a different way and they also help pass time at work on a boring day.

Now, on to the bad stuff.

For every intelligent, rational, understanding, respectful person who has a blog, FB or Twitter profile, there are atleast 100 dumb, irrational, disrespectful people who have them, too. In other words, social media has only made it even clearer than before that the country is running rampant with idiots. I meant that in the most loving way possible.

I won't talk about how some "celebrities" are passing their ignorance and foolishness on to their young and impressionalbe followers. That's a post for another day. Let's start at the bottom and work our way up. This is going to sound harsh and maybe intellectually snobbish. Well, dammit, it is. The misspellings are out of control. The incorrect grammar is out of control. The incorrect use of words is out of control. It's killing me softly.

By your profile, you're a successful attorney or business tycoon, but your posts make it obvious that you skipped out on the weekly spelling tests in second and third grade. Yeah, I hear you--spelling is not and never was one of your strong suits. Math isn't mine (I hate it), so I make sure I don't have to do anything before a large audience that requires a quadratic equation. And I KEEP a calculator with me.

Here's another excuse I hear often: Why do I need to spellcheck? Don't call me out. It's only Facebook/Twitter. It's not that serious.

That may be true, but suppose a prospective client, mentor or suitor read your profile? It could be a major turn-off for them. Unfortunately, the only things that get us through the door are our appearance, speech and writing abilities (for the most part). If you write the way you speak, Houston, we have a problem.

These are some common mistakes I see:

Using "there", instead of "their"
Using "where", instead of "we're" (this is a contraction for we are)
Using "tooken", instead of "taken"
Using "you're", instead of "your"
Using text language in anything other than a text message.

While I'm thinking about it, somebody, please tell me what the hell this is!

Miss XYZ feels like im n dis all along.

This status update is from a 19-year-old. This is not a text message, nor a Tweet where the characters are limited. Can you believe that kids really don't know that "what" is spelled with an "h"? When I read status update from some 21 and unders, I feel like I'm reading a chapter from Push. Why don't they know better?

Check out some tweets from the other day:

Abelleinbk: reading some of the responses to my Bey post makes me scared for the youth. the education system in this country really is a joke

@abelleinbk Don't even get me started! I'm convinced that our youth are just plain dumb. Harsh, but real. I blame tech, parents & schools

That's the way I feel. What's even worse is adults have fallen into the trap, too. Here's a link posted on Facebook by a friend: Shouldn't Have Given You Twitter: Mary J. Blige

So sad...My girl is getting clowned. Okay, okay, her job is to sing, not write, right? Yes, but when we do things in a public setting, we're open to any and all criticisms. This further proves my point that we must learn to stick to our gifts and talents. I know Twitter has given artists more authority to handle their own PR, but these practitioners and consultants need to step in immediately.

Yet another classic example: As if we didn't already know, R. Kelly is illiterate. Taken from NBCChicago.com . Try not to laugh at the title--just wrong!

"When I was trying to make it out here, I already knew, and I was stubborn about it,” he said. “I don’t even read really and I’m not afraid to say that. My cousins and brothers used to tease me ‘you can’t even read right. How you think you’re going to come up?’ The only reason I graduated from grammar school is because I had a great jump shot. I went to high school and [my teacher] told me ‘you will one of the greatest writers of all time.’ I believed. You [have to] believe it. You can’t believe [anything] if you’re hating. You can’t achieve [anything] if you’re hating.”

The issue is not him being illiterate. There are millions of functioning illiterates walking around. It's not even him admitting it without shame. It is what is is. However, it doesn't have to be. Dude is settling for being illiterate based on the fact that he's a talented (gifted) writer and producer. I guarantee if he was reduced to flipping burgers and dropping fries, he'd be in somebody's school then. Regardless of the money and fame, he needs to get a GED. Learn how to read and spell because his lyrics are a dead giveaway that something ain't right. It's equivalent to a star athlete skipping school and tests because his jumpshot will carry him. With one injury, he's back in the real world with regular folks and dumb as hell. There's nothing worse than an old fool.

The moral of the story is this: Read, don't settle for mediocrity and get help if you think (know) you need it.

***Stepping off my soapbox, but I will return

Taking Care of Me

2009-11-18T10:24:00.000-08:00

I need to get it together. Yesterday, it hit that I'm so living so subpar and mediocre. Well, not living. I am blessed, have a great relationship with God, employed, in decent health and have real family and friends. Those things are in order.

My existence, however, is another story. I look and feel like a bum. I need to take better care of myself. After watching "Heart of the City: Dying to Eat in Jackson," I was inspired. If those women made changes in their lives--exercising and eating right--to lose hundreds of pounds collectively, surely I can take my ass somewhere and walk a few days out of the week. It's not that hard.

My daddy has heart disease and my mama has hypertension. They're both hereditary. Yay me. So clearly a full physical in is order. I don't want to be the skinny girl who died of a heart attack at 35. I'm ready (I think) to take the plunge and get braces (again). I thought I was pretty cute with braces, but I was 14, not 28. I want my old smile back. How about getting these eyes checked out? Sitting at this computer and staring at the Blackberry can wreak havoc on the eyes.

Okay, enough of the venting. My biggest goal and resolution for 2010 is to take better care of myself. Period. Physically, mentally and emotionally.

Writing Chronicles: Happiness & Disappointment

2009-11-15T20:12:00.000-08:00

The Happiness

Last week, I accepted a writing assignment to interview an actor. He's quite possibly the sexiest, hottest man on the planet to me. Wait, let me scratch that. I didn't accept the assignment. I volunteered and the magazine accepted. Either way I was ecstatic because of the writing slump. The editor even showed interest in a pitch I sent. I felt like God had immediately answered my prayer. And he did, but I do know that I need to write for GP (general purposes), not just because I have an assignment. I've been doing that (eventually, I'll post the stories here).

Anyway, I finally stepped into the new millennium and bought this:

It's the Olympus Mini Tele-Recording Device from Radio Shack. I used it record my phone interview. I used my cell and even though the reviews suggest that it can be used for landlines, I don't buy it. I had to put my cell on speaker.

The interview went well until I realized 20 minutes into it that the mic was on the floor. I had the cell next to the mic on the voice recorder, but the mini-was plugged in. Oh God, the horror! I'd been taking notes, but I'd missed a large chunk of the dialogue.

After I came down from my high from the interview (are any other writers star struck even over the phone??), I immediately played the tape back, praying that it was audible. It was! I listed to about one minute and turned it off.

The Disappointment

I sat down this evening to transcribe the interview (about 40 minutes). It was a great interview because he did most of the talking. In general conversation, he answered a lot of my questions before I asked them. BUT, I turned the recorder on and was mortified. (Disclaimer: I was extremely close the mic so my voice was a bit altered.)

I sound terrible!!

Ugh. Just ugh. Have you heard my rant about my "accent"? When I visited DC and New York, I was constantly in mini-arguments about my "accent". I walked into a Subway on 29th street in NYC. I spoke (because that's what Southerners do). I belted out a big, "Hey, how you doing?" Before I could ask if they had any double chocolate chip cookies, the only guy in there asked me if I was from Alabama. WTF? I have since learned that Alabama is New Yorker's "go-to" state in reference to the South.

In DC for the Inauguration, sitting in the back of the police car with my girls (don't ask--read this), the male officer clowned my accent for atleast an hour. The guy we rode around Club Love with got a kick out of anything that came out of my mouth. Again, don't ask.

I have a twang. I know this. Check the blog profile and you will see that I'm from Memphis. I can't get away from it. I'm an oral communications instructor and from the sounds of that tape, I should be a student. I talk. That's what I do for a living. Why in the hell do I sound like I need to be in Harpo's Juke Joint?

I will say that I didn't totally have my "speaking" voice on. I was a little comfortable during that interview. I'm trying to find my interviewer style. I want to walk the fine line between formal (out of respect for the interviewee and the publication) and downright right real. The subject is more likely to talk openly if they think the journalist is genuine and makes them feel comfortable.

The bottom line is I'm definitely looking for voice coaches. I think I'm going to have nightmares about this.

My Problem With "Regret"

2009-11-12T09:29:00.000-08:00

Clutch posted the the new video for LeToya's Luckett's single, "Regret." I've already seen the video. That's not the issue. The lyrics are what strike a cord with me.

About two months ago, a local deejay premiered the song, saying it was a "banger" and the "ladies are already feeling this one." I listened and simply wasn't impressed...with the words. Here are a few:

I made you cool
You wasn't that dude
Until i started fuckin with you
Gave you swag, and a duffel bag
You left the best you had now you gotta act like that
I got you right
I changed your life
Suicide doors I cosigned
Gucci rags, Louis travel bags
You left the best you had, baby don't look so mad

You must regret the day that you left me
You still tryin to get back
Still tryin to get back

VIP was all on me
Now you're at the bar with 1 or 2 drinks
Poppin game, you look so lame
Without me your pimpin aint the same
First class flights
Dipped in ice
I had your neck and wrist oh so bright
Poppin tags, is a thing of the past
You lost the things you had chasin those scallywags

You get the point. In layman's terms, how dare you drop me for that chick after everything I've given you and done for you? She's a "scallywag." She doesn't keep you in the hottest clothes and rides like I do. Now, you're back to scrub status. Don't even try to come back.

I know its' "just a song," but in the words of Savannah on Waiting to Exhale, "Somebody had to go through this stuff, ya know?"

First, the materialism in the lyrics is mind-blowing, but that's another post for another time. Besides, nothing gets airplay like spouting off designer names who don't want to see us in their shit anyway. But I digress. On to my question.

In terms of giving in a relationship, are we putting value in the right things?
There was a post on A Belle In Brooklyn a while back (No link; I refuse to look for it) where a young professional woman wanted to know why her boyfriend left her for a woman who had a mediocre job and no education. Belle made a point that's stuck with me since reading: Men don't require degrees, baller-status jobs and flashy cars. Women do. At the very least, a man requires respect, love and the need to feel needed.

With that being said, keep the LV totes and Gucci rags (although I'm not against nice gifts for those love). Who cares if you drip him in ice? Hell, why are you doing that in the first place? Is there any reciprocity?

What else do you have to offer besides material things? *This is a question for men and women.

Disclaimer: The writer's thoughts and opinions on LeToya Luckett's "Regret" is not a reflection of the writer's views on the actual artist. The writer is a fan of Luckett's work and has been since the days of Beyonce & 'Nem.

Shocking!!

2009-11-11T14:06:00.000-08:00

"And it came to me like an epiphany."

-Chrisette Michelle

I know what you're thinking. I'm always having a damn epiphany. Stay with me. If you've been reading long enough, you know that this blog is hella boring now. I'd like to get back to telling stories rather than regurgitating my feelings about how my day's been going and what I don't like. It's starting to cross over from a blog to a negativity fest. Me no likey that!

Every day, as a morning ritual, I read all of my favorite blogs. In no particular order. Some thought-provoking, some hilarious, some completely pointless. But I like each and every one of them because the writers all have something to say. They even took the time to write it down, post it on the World Wide Web and go so far as to include pics and videos (gasp!). With every entry I read the same question runs across my mind: Why didn't I think of that?

The simplest things from who should pay for a date to issues in race and skin color (think: Sammy Sosa's "skin rejuvenation") are written about every second. Every second I'm feeling inspired by these folks. When I sit down, laptop in lap, reading (typing) glasses on, ready to bless the Word document with some deep ish, NOTHING comes out.

I've finally figured out why (because I'm so smart).

I'll start writing when I stop reading everyone else's blogs. Atleast temporarily. Yes, I know a good writer is also an avid reader (read Aliya S. King's latest blog for must-have books for writers), but by the time I read two million blogs and comment on a million, I'm drained. I know that's a terrible excuse, but I swear it makes perfect sense to me.

So for the next few days, I'm going to find a quiet space (my sofa) and write...whatever. This is the catch though. I'm going to write without the Internet. It's a huge damn distraction if I've ever seen one. Nevermind that I needed the Internet to even get into Blogger. I'm going old school this time around. Just Word 2007 and me.

Wish me luck!

Another One Bites The Dust

2009-10-26T10:06:00.000-07:00

I was reading Belle today, as I often do. Her latest post is in reference to a story in Essence, "Dating Like A White Girl." I totally agree with going out on dates with all kinds of men---even those who aren't in your "circle". The valet guy, the one who works a regular 9-5, the guy who didn't attend college to get into the habit of dating (because it is an art). It's a date, a few hours (if you're lucky, several hours) of your time to get to know a person in a public setting. A date--not an instant relationship. I've looked at dates as the latter for a long time. Foolish, indeed. How ironic that recently I decided to step out of my comfort zone and try to get something going with two different guys. Both showed interest.

Here's the issue: Both guys showed interest, but interest in what exactly? I finally get past critiquing every little thing about a man, from misspellings in text messages to his speech and then he hits me with the non-date date: Let's kick it at the house. My answer: Hell no.

I have principles and while I know principles will sometimes leave you alone and miserable, I can't let this one go. First dates will never be at my or his house. This is not college, so the freshmen approach is over. Let's do better. If I've only had one brief conversation with you and a few midday texts, what makes you think I want to be alone with you? Why do you want to be alone with me? I've got an answer! Maybe to see how far you can go?

That's it. The male BFF told me (as if it were a shock to me) that men will only take as far it as they want to go with a woman. If he wants to get to know you, he'll propose a real date (which doesn't have to be a ritzy, expensive outing, btw). If he wants sex, he'll propose kicking it at the house.

So that leaves me back at Square 1--nowhere. Maybe I'm just jaded. It could be that some guys really do have intentions to hang out and just chill. BUT, I know what my gut tells me and I've finally become mature enough to listen. So, as it stands the score is Men: 2 Me: 0. It just has to get better than this.

A Sweet Dream Or A Beautiful Nightmare

2009-10-15T10:58:00.000-07:00

When I woke up this morning, I was overjoyed to find myself in my bed, in my bedroom, in my house---back to reality. If you didn't know, I can sometimes have VERY vivid dreams. This dream? Vivid and scary all at the same time, but I have a couple of theories about why this happened.

The Dream: I had a baby. Calm down. I know this is a common dream. Every woman in her lifetime has probably had a dream about having a baby or being pregnant. Me, included! This time, I could really feel emotions though. I was holding this little bitty girl, wrapped up in blankets. I was just gazing at her. I was in love. I'd asked a friend of mine to hold her, only to go get another baby. A little boy. A small toddler. What the hell? I had two kids???

The icing on the cake was this: once the "afterglow" passed, I became frantic. I was screaming, "I have two kids! How did this happen?" I didn't know either. It was if someone had dropped them off to me, but yet I still had them. It's was definitely a weird one.

Two reasons for this sweet dream/nightmare: (1) A dream about a baby is supposed to represent new beginnings. Remember my theory about getting some communications duties at the job? I'm having a meeting with my supervisor in about an hour. Maybe that's it! Hopefully. (2) I had a phone conversation with a new guy last night and he kept asking me if I had children. I told him no and he still asked me. It was as if I was lying to him. Then he asked me did I want kids. As if I don't plan on having one just because I'm 28 and childless. When I told him I would like to be married first, he just made this funny noise like, "Humph." That's saying a lot about our society (no disrespect for single/unwed mothers--I come from one!) or either about his ways of thinking.

So, I'd given all of reasons for not having children and maybe that's why that dream showcased itself last night. I'll let you know how this other theory checks out in a minute.

Random Thoughts

2009-10-13T08:28:00.000-07:00

So, I'm sitting here. That's it. Just sitting here. I've had many, many days where I've been bored to tears at my job, but this right here---this ish right here--takes the cake. My supervisor is gone and I guess I should be grateful (who really likes when their boss is at work?), but I have nothing to do. Literally. Nothing. I've uploaded all of my pics onto Facebook, checked all of my daily blogs, read the local newspaper and still....nothing.

I just know my life has more purpose than this. I know it. There's something I should be doing, but of course, my clueless ass is coming up with nothing. I want to write--something. It doesn't even have to be for publication. But what about? This is a time where people who have drive are making ways for themselves. Knocking down doors that were never meant to be open. What the hell am I doing? Am I still considered as having a "Quarterlife Crisis" at 28? *If not, remind me to change the name of this blog.

The light at the end of the tunnel is one of my co-workers put her two-week notice in. I have a feeling since my sups know I'm over here skating for my check, they're going to give me some of her communications responsibilities. They can keep that development stuff. I don't fundraise, I write.

In other news, I attended my 10-year high school reunion. I had a blast! I'm so thankful that I had a great high school experience because I realize that everyone did not. I will say this though: It's a shame that 10 years later, when you bring a group of people together, it's like high school all over again. The "in" crowd versus the "other" people. It's not a good look. Just proof that adults really never grow up. Could it be that we as tax-paying, homeowning folks are really just teenagers playing "dress-up"?

Drop Your Thoughts in the Box

2009-09-27T20:13:00.000-07:00

Hi-yah! Pretty full weekend. Friends, sushi, wine, birthday party and shopping (just for one dress). Can't complain about it at all. If I didn't say so before, the housewarming went well. I still have food left over. After a second gathering at the house, my fridge is still full. Moving right along.

Weekend lesson: Wine and salsa dancing do not mix well. Remember that.

Moving right along. I'm a social media junkie. Well, I won't go that far, but I'm into every major social media site. I haven't even deleted my Myspace page yet, even though I never check it. I still have pics up from 2007. Facebook has an application called the Honesty Box. You ask a question and your friends anonymously answer. The most information you receive is the gender of that friend.

I'd set one up over a year ago and recently check it last week. A total random move. I've never responded to anyone else's questions, so I guess I didn't expect them to respond to mine. I had responses though. Quite a few. Surprise surprise! The latest response asks me, "Do you want a jumpoff?"

Wow.

Um. No.

I could go on about that, but the even bigger question to ask is this: Isn't it crazy that we have to have Internet applications to find out what people really think about us? Shouldn't there be an Honest Box for life? But it not be anonymous? Why do we have to fight so hard for the truth?

How ironic that I'm one of those people who has a hard time being honest with some folks. Honest as in "I don't think you're the one for me because I'm repulsed by you," not "I didn't go to bank, I stopped at the mall, instead" honest.

Either way, honesty is something that should be practiced more often than not. I'm looking at honesty like the Golden Rule. Do unto others, as you have them do unto you.
Nighty night.

You're Making It Too Easy

2009-09-25T12:24:00.000-07:00

Last night I was supposed to be sprawled out on my couch getting some much needed rest, but I was taken over by the Idiot Box. Yes, it's true. I can't stop watching television. Every year, I ask myself what it is that I going (to try) to fast. I now have my answer: television.

After crying myself into a tizzy over George being dead on Grey's Anatomy for the full two hours, I watched RHOA. I'll spare you all the messy details and skip to something that caught my attention. Just as NeNe and Khandi were about to verbally attack each other, Khandi does the mature thing and walks away. NeNe (with her messy a$$) continues talking crazy, then some woman tells her, "NeNe, no, you're writing a book. You have a book coming out." You know, as if to say she's about to release a New York Times Bestseller that will take her to the stages of Oprah and Good Morning America, alike. GTHOH!

I've seen the book and besides publicity on the celebrity blogs, I've heard nothing about it. It's chilling on the side bookshelves at Wal-Mart. I just saw it the other day. It pains me to know that someone will make this the reading for their monthly book club.

That brings me to my point, finally. My homie, E. and I were talking last night and she mentioned that now you don't have to be a writer to become an "author." She's right. Look at Toya (Carter). She's coming out with a book. Celebs, left and right, are selling books, but they aren't writing them. They're simply telling their stories to someone else who writes and edits them.

Now, I'm all for telling your story, inspiring others and getting paid while doing so. As I'm writing this I'm thinking of the other side of the coin, too. Who am I or anyone else, to say that someone who has not had formal training or education can't put a powerful story out for others to read? If you can't do something well enough, get someone else to do it, right? For example: Aliyah S. King's (my mentor in my head when I act right) work on a memoir for Faith Evans. Maybe she didn't have the skill or nerve to write it herself, but her story is still a great one. So, there it is. A memoir written by a seasoned, published author is born.

However, the market is TOO flooded with everything. Everybody wants a book, clothing line, television show, music career. It ain't for everybody. For a chosen few, it's an art, a way of life, a career that provides shelter, clothing and food to eat. For everyone else, it's just a way to get paid and it's fleeting. I can only imagine how real authors who were trained and perfected their crafts and gifts feel. Kinda like a published journalist to a blogger (I'm working on it!), an award-winning singer to a Kim, an Oscar winner to a rapper (except Queen Latifah/Ice Cube).

It's just too damn easy. Look out for my new clothing line and book combo in Spring 2010. I might throw in a wig line, too, even though I don't wear one.

Sigh

2009-09-24T14:23:00.000-07:00

"He smelled so good! You know, it's that kind of thing where when you hug a guy, the smell is buried in him."
-Oprah on Shawn Corey Carter

Sigh.

You know, lately, I've been on this kick about guys. I just read a wonderful post by a writer/blogger/friend in my head, Jozen about liking people, crushes and things of that nature. It's been so long since I've had a real crush. Hell, it's been so long since I've been around a guy that makes me go......siiiiigggghhhhh.

Here are a few things about men that make me go "sigh."

1. Cologne: Please, refer to previous quote. There is nothing like a man who smells good. Now, don't get me wrong, seems like just this weekend, I leaned in for a hug from a guy and almost passed out because his strong-ass cologne was invading my nostrils. The right smell and just the right amount is "sighable." Yes, I just made that up. Don't judge me!You just inhale, go to Heaven and never want to come back down.

2. Hugs: Who doesn't like a big, strong, lingering hug? If you don't, kill yo'self! It's so lovely! I've yet to decide if a slim guy or a big guy gives the best hugs. It doesn't matter as long as I am wrapped up and engulfed in it.

3. Fresh haircuts: Sorry, bald-headed dudes. This doesn't apply to you, unless your hair is growing back. A fresh haircut with the perfect line and fade-out/taper (whatever!) is awesome. I guess that's the way guys feel about our hair. I can't explain what it is about them. Maybe it's proof that you take care of yourself? Maintenance is what's up.

What else do you think is "sighable"? I could go on, but I didn't want to be so specific. Your turn.

No Words=?**&?!

2009-09-23T10:55:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking (as usual) how crazy it is for two people to have two totally different ways of thinking about a situation. Listening to a guy friend last week, he metioned a girl in a situation who is his "friend" and has been for almost 20 years, but she is "kinda in love" with him. Wow. I guess that situation is slightly different because he knows how she feels about him.

What about when the woman sees a guy as a friend only. Let's even say an associate. The guy thinks they have been in something synonymous to a relationship for some time. How does that happen? And while we're asking questions, what does "dealing with" mean? As in, "we've been dealing with each other for a minute." And takers?

Yeah, I don't know either, but it has prompted me to take a look at how I communicate and "deal" with other folks. It's obvious, more than ever before, that lack of communication only causes confusion. Why did it take so long for that to sink in.

Smh.

Bye

Don't Be Tardy Fah Da Partay!

2009-09-18T09:19:00.000-07:00

It's raining. Again. It's been raining since Sunday and will probably continue until later next week. I can't question God and His work. We must need all this rain. Sometimes it makes me feel good and sometimes it just depresses me. What's a day without a peak of sunshine?

Tomorrow's the housewarming. I don't know how I feel about it. I'm excited to see my friends and family. That's really what matters most, I guess. I'm wondering did I overdo it though. You know? Too much food? Not enough? Do I have enough space? Hell, will anyone come? Regardless, the important people will be there, so it's all good.

Let's take a step back and talk about how extra these Housewives are. Kim, you are certified crazy and even though Kandi flipped the hell out of "Don't Be Tardy For the Party," it's still wack! And I can't get that damn hook out of my head!! Someone please help me understand how you claim you want to be a singer, even go so far as to have a professional writer/producer work on your track and then you confess that you have a fear of singing. I mean, who does that???

Ugh. Just ugh.

What's Wrong With This Picture?

2009-09-11T08:37:00.000-07:00

If you read blogs, you've probably seen this dude on the scene in Atlanta. Hair shows, fashion shows, album release parties, etc. It wasn't until I saw him last night on RHOA (you know what that is!) that I found out his name.

The one and only (thank heavens), Derek J.

Again, I ask you, what's wrong with this picture?

Could it be a grown-ass man in a kimono and mini-skirt? Or the fact that he squeezed his fat feet in some stilettos? Maybe it's the fact that he has a full-grown goatee and a choker on?

Take your pick!

I consider myself a liberal. Do you what you do because it's not taking money out of my pocket or whatever, but when I saw him show up to Kim's door with grey skinny jeans, studded stilettos and an off-the-shoulder shirt, chaneling the chick from Flashdance, I just couldn't take it anymore. This ish is out of control.

I have a close childhood friend who lives his life as a woman. It doesn't bother me. Hell, we even showed up in church with the same shoes on! Maybe it's because he doesn't don a beard and fade! I'm so confused.

I wonder what his mother thinks....sheesh!

So Happy God Doesn't Think Like Us and Other Random Stuff

2009-09-03T12:10:00.000-07:00

This may come as a complete shock, but I just comtemplated what I call "disconnect and reconnect." As of right, social media and the internet as a whole is WAYYYY too much for me. Case and point:

1. Chris Brown (and his bowtie): Thank heavens I missed C. Breezy's interview on Larry King Live. I didn't know it was coming on anyway because I felt like he deserved another chance. He's clearly a kid in a (almost) grown man's body. Why did I go to bed and wake up to Twitterland ripping this boy to shreds?

Apparently, he's not that articulate and his PR team needs to be fired asap. We already knew this. The interview on Larry King, of all places sent the issue, which was almost dead, to another level. No one was really caring. Too much Michael Jackson, Ted Kennedy and healthcare reform stuff going on.

Terrible, awful mistake to go hard on Rihanna. Even bigger mistake to kick up dust about it almost five months later. What I don't understand is how you have grown ass people nitpicking at this young man. Get over it. Yes, I saw the bowtie and I will say that if he was gonna rock it, powder blue should have never been a color option. But we always knew CB needed a stylist, right? So, as of right now, #ChrisBrownsbowtie is #2 trending topic on Twitter. I'm all for laughs, but I need not for 75 percent of the people on my list to have nonstop commentary about him and his faults.

I know what you're thinking: Well, damn, just don't get on the Internet. DUH! (Hence my idea to disconnect.) Also, this is not so much about CB as it is the lack of sensitivity towards people. Let the boy serve his time or hard labor, get extensive counseling and grow up. Hopefully, that will solve it.

2. Maia Campbell: I refuse to post the video because I know you have seen it by now. Evidently, she's bipolar and her deceased mother, BeBe Moore Campbell's last novel, 72 Hour Hold was based on her. She's been out there for a minute now, but this video shows us what's going on. She needs help badly. Where are her family members? Father? Aunts or cousins? After this was posted, Twitter, FB and the blogs blew up about it, some even calling her a "crack whore" and "slut." It's not funny. She needs immediate help, but all we--Black folk---know how to do is hate and kick people when they're down. I hope this video will do just as much good as bad. Hopefully, she can be found and given what she needs to go on.

3. Whitney Houston: Yes, I missed the performance and I simply didn't want to see the clips of it. She looks fabulous and I like her new single. The burning question from people who didn't see it was, "How did she sound?" I read mixed reviews, but more negative comments than anything. Supposedly, she sounded terrible and is not the "old Whitney." Guess what? You're right! I'm a firm believer that God can preserve his gifts, but after 10+ years of crack and whatever else, I doubt she's blowing like she was in '93. Give her a damn break! It took enough guts to come back in the first place. I say kudos to Whitney!

I'm starting to believe that hate makes the world go 'round, instead of love. Atleast, according to the Internet.

Blah Moments

2009-09-01T12:07:00.000-07:00

Right at this very moment, I could go to sleep. Why? Because I have a bad attitude. Why? Because I don't know. Someone said something to me that I'm sure was harmless and I've been pissed ever since. That was atleast two hours ago. That's okay with me though.

I don't want to do anything today and I have plenty to do. Again, I just want to go to sleep. I was reading a new blog and the blogger gave details about a wack first date she had. That reminded me of one of my dates. Maybe it wasn't a date, just an outing. You know there is a difference. However, he did pick me up and pay for dinner so I reckon it was a date. I really tried to like this dude. (Well, kinda). He was older, had himself together. A real job, home, no children, not in a relationship/married. You get it....Cool guy. We even talked for hours on the phone about regular stuff.

Actually this was our second "date" and I think by that time, I'd realized that the chemistry was not there. But he was cool and getting out is always good. I was trying to test myself to see if I didn't like him because I really didn't like him in that way or if I was being shallow.

First, he didn't come to the door. Okay, no problem. I think we went to the movies (can't remember the movie) and then to dinner. Conversation was regular. We didn't have shit to talk about on the way back, in the car surprisingly. It was that dead, uncomfortable silence. Ugh. So it was time for me to get out of the car. He asked for a hug before I left. Gave me this uncomfortable "car hug". Keep in mind the car was a coupe so it was hella hard trying to accomplish that. Looking back on it now, perhaps he was expecting me to ask him in? Nahhh.

I was in my apartment on the first floor at the time. It only took me 15 seconds to get to my door and unlock it. I'll be damned if before I could get the key in the lock, this dude burned out!! He didn't wait to see if I got in safely. THAT pissed me off. By the time I stepped on my Welcome Home doormat, I turned and saw his damn tail lights. WTF is that about?

I'm smart enough to know that either he was a complete idiot or he just wasn't feeling me. Either option is fine because I wasn't feeling him either. But then he sent a text to check on me for the night. Huh?

Yet another reason why there just wasn't any chemistry.

Moments I'd Like To Forget, But Can't Stop Laughing About

2009-08-27T12:16:00.000-07:00

For past week, I have been feeling a yi yi about life. I haven't really had too many laughs. Tomorrow is Friday and in honor of that, I'm going to start laughing out loud. You do know that's what LOL means even though most times when we type it, we're not actually laughing out loud. So, in my quest to lighten myself up, I'll start with the best comical subject I can find: ME.

Yes, yes, people, believe it not, hilarious things ALWAYS happen to me. So I'll give you three scenarios. One is a throwback, the other two are fairly recent.

Cheers To You

A couple of years ago I was on a first date with a hot guy. It was a lovely first date. Great atmosphere, dim lights, good sushi (finally, a man who likes it just as much as I) and even better conversation. For cocktails, I ordered my signature appletini. He later asked did I want to try some sake. He thought I was new to this, but I was a vet in the sushi/sake game. Of course, I'd like some. I don't care for the taste, but the buzz makes it worth it. To my surprise, they'd started serving mint-flavored sake. Yummy!

Before we took our first shot of the sake, we made a toast "to friendship and new beginnings" or something like that. Way to reel me in, huh? Between the conversation, jokes and crunchy crawfish rolls, I was rotating my martini and sake like a blunt. Talking, laughing and sipping. Everythang was everythang!

Then it was time to get up. As soon as I put my weight on my feet to stand, I felt horrible. I. Was. Drunk. While he turned away to talk to the server, I quickly got myself together. Fast forward to the jazz lounge we stopped by. In mid-sentence, I caught a dizzy spell and told him I needed to go to the ladies room. Twenty seconds later, I was locked in the stall, sick as hell. I had two options: Either throw up or pass out. Neither was acceptable for a first date (or second, third or fourth). I camped out there for a good minute, asking myself and God why did I have to double up on martinis and sake. I was literally praying to get me through the rest of the night. Finally, unlocked myself from the claustrophobic stall, freshened up and went back out to the lobby. Evidently, I was looking as crazy as a box of rocks. My date's expression said it all. As Bernie Mac said, he "looked at me like I was short." Then if that wasn't enough, he asked me if I needed to lay down.

Within two hours I'd gone from Sex in the City to Intervention. I guess I made an impression.

She Got Her Own

When I moved from my apartment to my house, I used a moving crew. The "crew" consisted of two guys. A hella young white guy who told me his life story while they were working and a middle-aged black guy who flirted with me while they were working. I didn't have anything to do so I got out of their way and sat in the corner of my dining room and played with my Blackberry. They were in my bedroom moving my dresser and mattress. The black guy had already asked me if I lived alone, was I married or in relationship. Yes, no and no.

On their way out of the door, I noticed they had these peculiar looks on their faces. The black guy, two ends of the mattress in hand asks, "So, can you cook?"

"I can cook enough." That's a codeword for no.

"Can you cook just a little bit?"

How weird is that? Is this damn 20 Questions?

I walked back to my half-empty room to find an empty condom box laying in the middle of my bed frame.

Hilarious!

Rolling With The Homies
I never wake up on time to get to work early or even on time. Sometimes I don't pick out my clothes for the next day or even tie my hair up. Last week, every day was one of those days. When I have curls, my closest friends know that I will throw 3-5 rollers randomly in my hair while I'm getting dressed to give limp strands a curl (I use rods, btw, not magnetic rollers). I got dressed, gobbled down my Cinnamon Toast Crunch, pulled the trash to the curb and jumped in my car for my 30 minute commute to work.

After I parked, I hopped on the disgusting, dingy elevator. There was a guy already on. I'd seen him before, but I could tell he was new to the area. Worked a few buildings down from mine. Tall, slim, professional looking. Always has a briefcase overflowing with stuff and a laptop bag. (Damn, I told you I'd seen him before!) Fairly young or young enough. As I stepped in the elevator, he greeted me. I replied with a smile, "I'm great. How are you this morning?"

I had my mp3 player in, jammin to Lady in My Life and noticed that he was staring at me. It wasn't that he was checking me out though. It was this look like, "What the hell?" Why though? I had a cute outfit and my toes had a fresh coat of polish. I ignored him. Finally, he says, "Sooooo, is that a new trend with the ladies?"

"Excuse me?"

"That...roller in the top of your head. Is that a something new?"

Well, I'll be damned! I forgot to the take the roller out!

Let me tell you about this roller. It's not your average roller. It's a neon orange Jherri Curl rod. In plain sight, BIG chilling in my head. How did I miss that in rear view.

I'm too cool to be embarrassed though.

"Oh wow. Somebody was in a hurry this morning! I immediately snatched it out and threw it in my work bag."That's a Monday for you. Thank you and have a good day!"

If I'd had Bewitched powers, I'd wiggle my nose to disappear into thin air.

Only me. Only me.

Hump Day Happenings

2009-08-26T13:30:00.000-07:00

So....I'm sitting here about to jump out of my seat because I'm so ready to go. I'm ready to get the hump of Hump Day. Today has been a day of nothingness, filling food and -itis. Somebody remind me to fore go the stuffed crabcakes, salad and three butter rolls the next time we have a farewell luncheon. Almost two hours later, I'm still miserable. But I have been able to do a few things to feel like a productive U.S. citizen. I read atleast two stories on the life of Senator Ted Kennedy. Who knew he helped to implement COBRA and fled the death scene of a fatal car crash?? Rest in peace. Ever since his speech at the Democratic Convention, he's been special to me. He spoke with so much zeal and fire.

I drafted the Evite for my housewarming. It's an Evite, so you might be asking why I'm drafting. All I have to do is fill in the time, place, etc. and import email contacts, right? Yeah, but there is some anxiety about having a party considering I've never had one as an adult. Having my linesisters over and it turning into an apartment overflowing with RAP (random-ass people) does not count. This is a housewarming and I want it to be fun. With a decent male:female ratio.

Hmmmm.....That may be where the problem lies. To quote Darius Lovehall (Shame on you if you don't know who I'm referring to!), "Besides Felicia, I can't stand to be around any of 'em for more than an hour at a time." Replace "Felicia" with a guy's name though. I don't get down like that. So yeah, I could invite a few guys, but how many of them am I on good enough terms with to say, "Hey, why don't you come to my house and celebrate with me. That means that you now have my address to try to drop by unannounced." NONE. Homey don't play dat.

I'm not even going to get into why that may be. I know that if you experience patterns in life, it's not the pattern. It's you. I got that. As usual, I'm over thinking. I'm sure I'll have a fabulous time as long as my friends and family are there. And a bottle of Moscatto, of course.

Happy Hump Day!

Rest In Peace, Baby Girl

2009-08-25T13:17:00.000-07:00

I remember it so clearly. I was in my dorm room unpacking. I had just come back to SU for the start of my junior year. My television was still sitting on the floor, rather than on my "Yaffa Block" stand. I had the TV on mute, but the radio was blasting since my roommate hadn't arrived yet. (I know I have that bad!). Around 9 p.m. or so, I looked at the screen and images of Aaliyah were flashing. I had it on CNN. Around that time, you couldn't find that many of us on, so I immediately turned the volume up. I could feel something pulling at my heart so I'd already begun praying that it wasn't anything catastrophic.

And it was. She was dead. A plane crash. Right after leaving the video shoot for "Rock the Boat." That hurt. Aaliyah? I was so excited to hear on 106 & Park (the Wonder Years) that she was shooting the video for that song. It was THE song on the album. She was so mature now. She'd gone from singing about a "Four Page Letter" to getting it on (who knew it was with Dame Dash though??) and loving it. Every time Aaliyah came out, it was something new and refreshing. She actually danced, instead of shaking her ass. She exuded sex appeal, but in a sweet, innocent way. I just read a Facebook status that said, "Rest in peace, Aaliyah. Beyonce' who?"

I had all off her stuff. Besides the old Jodeci material, Aaliyah was one of the first artists to showcase Timbaland's genius production (think "One In a Million"). She was the first skinny, tall girl I'd seen around my age who could sing and had a quirky sense of style.

When they released the video for "I Miss You", I sat on my parents' bed and cried. Like hard. I've never been the best with death. The same question floats around in my head when someone dies: What if......? I often wonder, if they plane had landed, where would women be in music? How much more could Aaliyah's career and life have flourished? Would Missy and Tim still be making beats together? I wonder.

Rest in peace, Aaliyah.

Because I Can't Stop Thinking

2009-08-25T12:32:00.000-07:00

So, the other night, my male BFF told me I think too much. He probably tells me this atleast once every two weeks, maybe? I start going off on tangents, which I'm known to do about everything from the lack thereof (yeah we talk about that, too) to wanting a new job to whatever. I mentioned to a female friend and her response was, "We're women. We're supposed to think all of the time. Duh."

Precisely.

So here's what I've been thinking about lately. Keep in mind that it only makes sense in my head and sometimes, not even there. It's just random stuff.

My biological clock is ticking. I can't hear it, but I know it's ticking. Yesterday, a co-worker told me she wouldn't "wait too long" to have a baby if she were me. She was about 28 when she got pregnant, but it was accidental. My mother got pregnant at 28 and it was accidental. So what does that say to me? On one hand, I know I want to be young and vibrant enough to enjoy my children and hopefully, grandchildren. On the other hand, why suggest that I have a baby soon when your pregnancies weren't even planned? Get it?

A couple of months ago, I toiled over this same issue when my doctors found a gigantic fibroid in my uterus. What if I couldn't have children at all? Oh, the horror, right? I was depressed for days. Granted, everything turned out fine, but it sent some feelers out that I need to think about having children soon (as in the next 2-5 years).

This is the thing though. A: I have no "real" control over what will happen in that area. Yeah, I could run out to the sperm donor right now, but it's not THAT serious to me. B: I need and want a father for child to be my husband. C: I have no prospects for a husband, baby daddy, hell, even a boyfriend. Women are talking to me like I can just pull a man from the sky, have sex with him and voila'! Behold, a child! Uh-uh. I don't roll like that.

So that thought alone sends me right back to the depressed mode. Just when I think I'm crazy, someone else tells me that they think about the same thing. Well, the baby part, atleast. Tell me, do you think about this? I assume that some men think about having children, too--even though they can make babies until they're 70+. If not, what are some things you think about that you think are uncommon?

The Weekend At A Glance

2009-08-17T09:16:00.000-07:00

Hey folks! This weekend has been nonstop. Right now, I feel like my head is going to explode. Today would be such a great day to take a half-day and jet. But no, I'll be thuggin it out. For once, I got out this weekend. I headed to a SWAC (that's Southwestern Athletic Conference) Alumni Picnic. There were plenty of people from Jackson State University, Alcorn State and a few from other schools. Only three of us were from Southern, but we still had a presence. We had a great time talking about how our school is THE BEST.

Moving on....My godson had a surprise birthday pool party. I've never seen so many little kids. They all played in the pool, and for a minute, I thought I'd atleast put my feet in the water, but I decided not to. I couldn't afford to get the hair wet. Typical, right?

Moving on...I got two free tickets to a Raheem DeVaughn show courtesy of my cousin. *Let me retract that statement. It was showcase for an artist, Phil Ade', hosted by Raheem. I knew this because I read event flyers to prevent bamboozlement (I think I just made that up). I have been to enough music events to know that the "host" isn't going to do much but...host. So it was hillarious to see the venue packed from the front to the back (a friend of mine looked at me like I was crazy when I said I didn't know Raheem DeVaughn had so many fans--my bad!). Couples were boo'd up and dressed to the nines. The little man (that's what I call him) came out in shades and a Polo shirt and eventually did 1.5 songs. The showcase artist did like six! Talk about some pissed people. LOL.

The best part of the night was my glass of Moscatto and the opening act, William Davenport. I could hardly see him, but his voice is amazing. I'd like to think of him as the male India Arie. That is if Eric Roberson or PJ Morton don't already have that title. Check him out @willdavenport.

Sunday was spent with family for my Granny's birthday. I finally hung some pictures on my bare walls at home and ironed some curtains. Ahh, the life of a homeowner. I did all of that while watching True Blood and Mad Men. Mad Men....um yeahhhh. The gay scene? Totally unexpected. I never really watched the show, but I could just sense that Sal was going to get ole boy. And the killing part was, as big as he is, he wasn't even the aggressor! May just have to stick with True Blood only on Sundays.

What did you do this weekend?

Sad State of Affairs

2009-08-14T11:44:00.000-07:00

This is a sad state of affairs right here. I could talk about how even though Micheal Vick did his time, they are STILL going hard on him. I could talk about the fact that white folks are SUPER pissy about this healthcare deal and are cutting up sideways in these townhalls. Or I could even talk about people still coming out of the woodworks claiming to be Michael Jackson's children's bios. But no. Instead, I'm going to talk about me.

During a regular conversation with Moms, she asked if I was going "off" (meaning going out).

I said, "Ummmm...noooo. I am going to the beauty shop though!" I was a littel excited. Maybe too excited, but you haven't seen my head. (Nevermind that I had this bright idea to grow my eyebrows out so they could be thicker. Now I look like Snuffalufacus!) I added that that might be the "highlight" of my day.

"Umph, all you do is go home to your house now, huh?"

She didn't say it like it was a tragedy. There was no pity in her voice. She just asked a question.

I'd been asking myself the very same question. Hell, I think I even mentioned it in a previous blog. I, shamefully, had to answer. "Yeah, pretty much. How wack is that?"

"Nah, it's not. If that's what you wanna do."

"But I don't."

"Oh."

So, the sad state of affairs is when your own mama realizes that you lead a boring life. Sigh. Remember when I always had some hilarious story about going out? Maybe that time has passed. But dammit, I'm only 28. I deserve to ENJOY life. I work too hard (some of the time). Look for some changes in the near future.

Happy Thursday!

Ladies Night Around the World

2009-08-13T07:37:00.000-07:00

Today is Thursday, known as Ladies Night around the world. I got that from a friend/linesister. Ladies Night also means that the following day is Friday. I have a busy weekend. Committed myself to too many things, as usual. I pushed the housewarming back. I need to relax. And I need TIME. I'm clearly obsessed over decorating this house. I was just thinking how I might have OCD. Seriously. Everything I do major, it becomes obsessive. I can only imagine what will happen when I get married and have a child. It's crazy.

Anyway. I'm blogging from work, as usual. Listening to Teedra. I'm talking about Teedra Moses, but I kinda feel like I know her like that, ya know. So we're on a first-name basis (Insert chuckle here). I follow her on Twitter @Teedramoses. Last night, I decided to ask her if she remembered being interviewed for Clutch. It was me who did the interview.

She tweeted back: @Alisha8151 Of course, I remember u, girl. Awww!!!

I believer her, too. When I interviewed her by phone, we talked forever. She's just a real cool chick. Classy.

So today, I'm sitting here, wishing I were sitting somewhere with a glass of Moscatto, vibing to Teedra because this song right here is it:

Or this one

Sigh. Happy Thursday!

Best Friends Forever?

2009-08-10T08:53:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the last Sunday our kids who were high school seniors would be at church. It's a group of them and they are all friends--girls and boys. Throughout the entire service, they were crying and hugging and woo woo woo. It was too emotional.

I thought about the fact that 10 years I was in the exact same place. Though I don't remember being that torn up about it, I did shed some tears. I remember sitting next to my best friend for Class Day (unofficial graduation program) crying as if someone was taking my right arm off. Picture: Celie and Nettie when Mister sent Nettie away. That's how we felt. And then we were at each other's houses the next day!

None of my close friends went to the same college as I did. We were leaving to start a new phase in our lives. And yes, things stayed the same. I still have the same friends I had 10 years ago. But things also change. People find their own identities and reinvent themselves. They become involved in other things that their old friends don't find interesting. And then some friends simply end their friendships for various reasons.

As I looked at those kids holding on to each other, I had a feeling that they were trying to hold on to the past, too. Yet, so ready for the future. I wonder how things will play for each of them. I pray for the best.