<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5108619079358307016</id><updated>2024-10-04T22:20:16.934-04:00</updated><category term="The Gambia"/><title type='text'>theinnerworkingsofme</title><subtitle type='html'>Sharing my thoughts</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false'/><author><name>B.Shanel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09102333991600731040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVB_Y5rRJmQ/Sx8EJGyNvKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/middspLE_O0/S220/me+and+tam+2.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>54</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5108619079358307016.post-2682817995663162361</id><published>2010-07-11T00:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-11T00:59:17.298-04:00</updated><title type='text'>PSA</title><content type='html'>I have a new domain. Check out &lt;a href=&quot;http://theinnerworkingofb.com/&quot;&gt;theinnerworkingofb.com&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Thanks</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/feeds/2682817995663162361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/07/psa.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/2682817995663162361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/2682817995663162361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/07/psa.html' title='PSA'/><author><name>B.Shanel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09102333991600731040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVB_Y5rRJmQ/Sx8EJGyNvKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/middspLE_O0/S220/me+and+tam+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5108619079358307016.post-2182065515571860230</id><published>2010-05-25T22:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-25T22:12:03.859-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Why dating works for me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;I am in this &lt;a href=&quot;http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/03/single-and-civil.html&quot;&gt;stage of my life&lt;/a&gt; where I love dating. It’s so fun for me. I enjoy getting ready, putting on some pumps, a little make-up, and accompanying someone to dinner, the movies, or whatever. Not everyone &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;enjoys dating but it works for me because I have very little expectations of these guys. I mean they are generally completely random. I may meet them at a restaurant, in a parking lot, through someone else, however we meet they’re practically randoms. &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;When I go out on a date with a random I’m not looking for him to be the next boo; I’m not sizing him up to see if he’s husband material. I’m going to have a good time.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;All I ask is that you can provide me with good conversation for a short amount of time. If it so happens we actually have a connection then great! If not, still great! It’s either lets go out again or keep it moving. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;The main reason I have very little expectations from these guys is if I had all these expectations and I was continually disappointed, I would hate dating. Then I would be sad because I had this great thing going and I ruined it by expecting too much from it. Another reason is I have no verbiage for what I really want. I mean I have &lt;a href=&quot;http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-list.html&quot;&gt;my list&lt;/a&gt; but it’s so short and generic that I’m sure millions of guys could fit the bill. What I want is a “connection” but I don’t really know what that entails. And since I don’t know exactly what I want I don’t get into every situation with my checklist. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Some feel my stance on this topic is rather selfish. I beg to differ. At some point either during or before date 1 I let the guys know where I stand. At this point I’m just dating and going with the flow.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;I mean it’s not as though I’m opposed to being in a committed relationship. When I find that “connection” with someone (and they feel the connection too) I will graciously bow out (maybe lol ).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;But until then… dating is fun, carefree, stressless, and quite simply dating works for me. I think everyone should try it.&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/feeds/2182065515571860230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/05/why-dating-works-for-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/2182065515571860230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/2182065515571860230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/05/why-dating-works-for-me.html' title='Why dating works for me'/><author><name>B.Shanel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09102333991600731040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVB_Y5rRJmQ/Sx8EJGyNvKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/middspLE_O0/S220/me+and+tam+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5108619079358307016.post-1308383384438600357</id><published>2010-05-23T17:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-23T17:45:03.950-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Mistress</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;So I am a major proponent of the “&lt;a href=&quot;http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2009/12/golden-rule.html&quot;&gt;Golden Rule&lt;/a&gt;”. I absolutely live by it. It’s pretty much core to my moral compass. When I act, I always think how I would feel if someone did that to me. I won’t sit up here and say I’m an angel and I never do anything bad to people because that would be false. However, it’s a conscious decision I make. If/when I do something shady I think about how I would feel if someone did that to me, as well as how I’m going to feel when it comes back around because I believe in karma just as much as I believe in the golden rule. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Ok, so this whole mistress business… I don’t get it. Like, I don’t get it at all. I am so against the concept of being with someone when they’re with someone else. And this is just not pertaining to married men; this is with guys who have girlfriends as well. Silly thing is even though I’m so against it I am presented with the option to be the chick on the side somewhat often. I will say that most time the guys aren’t like, “yeah I got a chick but…” from jump. It’s usually like they start talking to me and somehow I find out and then they’re like, “yeah I got a chick but…”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;You see, here’s the deal, being a mistress is beyond belittling to me. I mean in my opinion being the girl on the side is so small. It’s like someone saying you are nothing to them. And I know I may have the tendency to &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;think&lt;/b&gt; a little highly of myself. I may &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;think&lt;/b&gt; I’m a little better than I actually am. However, what I do &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;know&lt;/b&gt; is that I am better and above being a mistress. I deserve and I expect to be the only girl. Please note that I did not say girl number 1 because I’m above that as well. When it comes to men I don’t believe in sharing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;But most importantly, if you really care about me you will see my worth. If we meet and the timing is off and you’re involved with someone else, you have a decision to make. You need to either find a way out of your situation or wait it out because if we’re meant to be it will eventually work itself out in the end. But if I mean so much to you that you need me in your life right then and there in spite of your current situation, you have underestimated my worth. I’m not as important to you as you say I am. Because if you really thought I was that special you would love me the way I deserve to be loved. You would want to give me all of you, not just the portion that’s “available” at this time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;With that being said, ladies please remember if a man wants you to be his chick on the side he doesn’t really love you. And if you so choose to be a mistress you may eventually become the “main girl” but just know someone has replaced your spot as mistress. &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;And men please remember if you want a girl to be your chick on the side you don’t really love her. &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;And if you so choose to have a chick on the side please know that one day you too will have to share.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/feeds/1308383384438600357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/05/mistress.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/1308383384438600357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/1308383384438600357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/05/mistress.html' title='The Mistress'/><author><name>B.Shanel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09102333991600731040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVB_Y5rRJmQ/Sx8EJGyNvKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/middspLE_O0/S220/me+and+tam+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5108619079358307016.post-3984496583248270079</id><published>2010-05-18T21:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-18T21:09:05.033-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Blackberry</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;As some of you know I recently joined 21&lt;sup&gt;st&lt;/sup&gt; century with this whole phone business.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;Now, I was completely content with my “flip phone,” as Marcel so affectionately called it, but as I saw the end drawing near I decided to put it down before it gave out. So now I have blackberry and I’ll admit I really like it. But we have this love/hate relationship going on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Why I love my blackberry:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;This past weekend I went out of town and I didn’t have to take my computer. I was only going to be gone for a few days so I didn&#39;t want to carry around all these extra bags. Then it hit me, everything I needed was in the palm of my hand. How great is that?? I mean I can check my email, get on facebook, and look up pointless information just from my phone. I love the fact I can check my account and make sure it’s ok to buy something I just so happen to see at the store. I also love being able to transfer money into an account if I forget to do it when I’m at home. I love being able to look up the address to a place when I’m on the road from my phone. I really like the fact that I actually use my calendar to keep tract of appointments and such.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Why I hate my blackberry:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;It’s so much of a distraction. I mean who needs to check their facebook a million times a day? Not me but since I can, I do. I sit on the couch or in the bed with the computer on my lap and the phone by my side. &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;You know what else? Eventually it may cause an accident. The moment I hop in my car I get a text message or an IM. There’s some magnet that says “check fb one more time” or “you’re about to go to the store so you should check your account.” And I’m really trying to make a conscious effort to stop texting while driving. I even put my purse in the backseat so I can’t get to the phone. This happens to be a much bigger distraction because I tend to reach back to get it. If I can’t get it with one hand I wait until I’m at a stoplight. &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;That’s not good at all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;But I mean after being with a smart phone I refuse to go back to a regular one (do they have an official name?).&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;What is a girl to do??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/feeds/3984496583248270079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-blackberry.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/3984496583248270079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/3984496583248270079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-blackberry.html' title='My Blackberry'/><author><name>B.Shanel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09102333991600731040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVB_Y5rRJmQ/Sx8EJGyNvKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/middspLE_O0/S220/me+and+tam+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5108619079358307016.post-1535486520180799898</id><published>2010-05-12T23:58:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-13T00:01:15.802-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The thing about love...</title><content type='html'>Today I’m going to touch on a topic I don’t generally speak on, love. I have a great deal of respect for this thing called love. I hold this emotion in the highest esteem. &amp;nbsp;My perception of love is what somewhat idealist I will admit. My definition of love comes straight from the I Corinthians 13:4-7&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;blockquote&gt;Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;This definition right here or ideology so to speak is exactly why I haven’t been in love. I have yet to be with someone who I feel can/will love me this way. This is the type of love I long for, this is the type of love I will so willing offer, therefore this is the type of love I deserve and expect in return. I refuse to give my heart to anyone who is offering less.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Times New Roman&#39;, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Times New Roman&#39;, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;But what’s so unfortunate is often times you hear people say you can’t help who you love. I honestly don’t believe this. I feel love is a choice. I don’t believe in love at first sight. I don’t think you just “fall in love”. Basically, I don’t think love just happens. I will say I kinda believe you can’t necessarily help who you &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;like&lt;/b&gt; or who you are attracted to. But like/attraction does not equate to love. Love is something that has to be cultivated. Once again it doesn’t just happen. &amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Times New Roman&#39;, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Times New Roman&#39;, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;I think love is a process that goes something like this:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Times New Roman&#39;, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Step 1: guy/girl like each other&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Times New Roman&#39;, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Step 2: guy/girl decide they want to get to know each other&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Times New Roman&#39;, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Step 3: guy/girl make a conscious decision to start dating&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Times New Roman&#39;, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Step 4: guy/girl make a conscious effort to start spending more time together&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Times New Roman&#39;, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Step 5: guy/girl make a conscious effort to get to know each other even better&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Times New Roman&#39;, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Step 6: &amp;nbsp;guy/girl consciously decide they want to become an item&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Times New Roman&#39;, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Step 7: guy/girl consciously start spending more and more time together&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Times New Roman&#39;, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Times New Roman&#39;, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;As couples continue to make steps such as these they are nurturing this emotion we call love. As you see the only step that doesn’t have anyone making a decision is step 1, but all the other steps are your choice. You choose to spend time with people. You choose to get to know someone. You choose to open up and divulge your secrets. You choose to become vulnerable. You choose to let someone see the real you. &amp;nbsp;You choose to give someone your heart. &amp;nbsp;Everything leading up to love is your choice.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Times New Roman&#39;, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Times New Roman&#39;, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;You don’t fall in love with someone the moment you meet them. You don’t love someone you haven’t spent any time with. After getting to know a person and spending time with them you start to develop affection which in time can turn into love.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Times New Roman&#39;, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Times New Roman&#39;, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Sadly, I think a lot of people are in love with the idea of being in love so after a few encounters with a person they trick themselves into believing they are really in love; which is so not the case. They may genuinely care about the person or even be infatuated, but in love…not so much. Love is not one of the emotions like happiness or sadness that may just come and go on a whim. I believe that love is much deeper. &amp;nbsp;Now&amp;nbsp;I know I have no authority on this topic.&amp;nbsp; However, I also know that I have not put myself in situations to where I would just “fall” in love.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/feeds/1535486520180799898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/05/thing-about-love.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/1535486520180799898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/1535486520180799898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/05/thing-about-love.html' title='The thing about love...'/><author><name>B.Shanel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09102333991600731040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVB_Y5rRJmQ/Sx8EJGyNvKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/middspLE_O0/S220/me+and+tam+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5108619079358307016.post-5872607051362428328</id><published>2010-05-05T16:12:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-05T16:12:47.595-04:00</updated><title type='text'>You say he&#39;s just a friend</title><content type='html'>Can guys and girls have purely platonic relationships? This is a question I have been confronted with on many occasions. So what do I believe? I think girls and guys can be friends without being attracted to one another. I have many male friends that I am not the least bit attracted. I have several male friends who may be physically attractive but our personality’s clash. I have a lot of male friends, maybe more than most but I don’t want anything from them except for their friendship.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I do understand that when you have a significant other the dynamics of your relationships with persons of the opposite sex have to change. When my male friends have girls I am very conscious of the time I call them at night. I don’t care how great of friends you are calls after mid-night must cease. If we eat dinner together all the time either the number of dinner meetings decrease or she starts attending. When I need something I will call one of my single guy friends first even if you are closer. Do the changes mean we’re no longer friends? Absolutely not. It simply means that we our both doing our part to respect your relationship. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Are there cases where one person just wants to be friends and the other person has ulterior motives? Well of course. I would like to go on a limb and say most people know if their “good friend” wants more. If you don’t know let me help you out. These are the people who don’t respect your relationship. These are the people who get mad at you when you can’t go to the movies with them because you and your girl already have plans. These are the people who get mad when they call and they hear your man’s voice in the background. I wouldn’t really call these people friends I would call them wishful thinkers. They are people who are willing to be your friend with the aspiration of it becoming something more. But does everyone feel this way? No. Everyone from the opposite sex does not want to be with you; if you feel this way please get over yourself. Likewise, if you want to get with everyone from the opposite sex please go get neutered or something.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
With that being said, it is really hard for me to grasp why people think this can’t be done. Why can’t girls and guys have platonic relationships? I will admit my friends and me have a unique friendship. “The family”, as I so affectionately call us, has been together since freshman year in college. We are a rather large group of girls and guys and we are just friends. I will confess that throughout our tenure in college a few people may have made out or had short lived flings, but that’s all. After years of being together the attractions died down and beautiful friendships formed. We have been with each other through highs and lows. I know that if I need anything I can call anyone in the family and it’s done. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Naturally, when I have a significant other I want him to accept my family. I don’t even have to say I want my family to accept him because I know they will. Even if they don’t think he’s right for me, he will never know. They will tell me how they feel and allow me to make my decision. If I choose to keep him around they will accept him with open arms. I don’t really know if I can be with someone who doesn’t accept my guy friends because in denying them he will be denying a part of me. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The person who is the “one” for me will be susceptible to the fact that before he came into the picture I had guy friends. He will be sensitive to fact that these guys have been there for me when I needed them. The guy for me, though he may be a little suspect at first, won’t ask me to choose because he will trust me. The guy for me will understand that I am a girl and I have strictly platonic friendships with guys. The guy for me will be confident enough in himself to know that even though all these other guys are in the picture, I chose to be with him.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/feeds/5872607051362428328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/05/you-say-hes-just-friend.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/5872607051362428328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/5872607051362428328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/05/you-say-hes-just-friend.html' title='You say he&#39;s just a friend'/><author><name>B.Shanel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09102333991600731040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVB_Y5rRJmQ/Sx8EJGyNvKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/middspLE_O0/S220/me+and+tam+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5108619079358307016.post-6375135831847644006</id><published>2010-05-04T20:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-04T20:22:02.610-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Musical Cards</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Dear Makers of Greeting Cards,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;I realize that there has been a recent craze over those little musical cards but umm not everyone is enthralled by them. More specifically, neither I nor my mother are really crazy about them. Seeing as though it is almost Mother’s Day, I need to purchase a card for her. I know you are not aware of this but choosing a card is very important to me. I like to take my time and select cards that are catered to that particular person. I would appreciate the opportunity to surf through a descent amount cards that are neither musical nor humorous. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;As I stated earlier, I understand the craze. I know millions of people just love those little musical cards but not everyone does. What you have done is what I like to call taking something overboard. I’m not mad at you. I completely understand, you see even I am guilty of taking things overboard. It’s completely natural. But could you please fix it. I would like to be able to rummage through greeting cards and have a couple to choose from.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;Thanks you for your time and consideration pertaining to this matter.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Shanel&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/feeds/6375135831847644006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/05/musical-cards.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/6375135831847644006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/6375135831847644006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/05/musical-cards.html' title='Musical Cards'/><author><name>B.Shanel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09102333991600731040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVB_Y5rRJmQ/Sx8EJGyNvKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/middspLE_O0/S220/me+and+tam+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5108619079358307016.post-1917913958575638007</id><published>2010-04-28T23:52:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-29T00:08:32.843-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I know I said I never wanted to talk to you again but...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;The other day I read on post on Until I Get Married entitled&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href=&quot;http://untiligetmarried.com/2010/04/23/i-never-stopped-caring-2/&quot;&gt;I Never Stopped Caring&lt;/a&gt;. Now this post really got to me. Now I know some of you think I’m incapable of possessing emotional ties for members of the opposite sex, but that’s just not the truth.&amp;nbsp;Unbeknownst to most I have been in relationships. I will admit my relationships may be a tad bit unorthodox in nature and they generally don’t carry titles but a relationship can simply be defined as an emotional connection between people (look it up). That I have had. &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Anyhow, so the post was about how when you break up you still care about the person and you want to know about their well being.&amp;nbsp; But generally (because it’s the rules) communication tends to cease which makes it virtually impossible to keep up with one another.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;My initial reaction to the post was, “man, I am so here with you.” which is so contradictory. Mainly due to the fact that I am usually the person who enforces said rules. When we break up (yes, all my unorthodox non-traditional titleless relationships have ended with break ups) I don’t want to talk to you. Quite frankly, not talking to you is a need; all ties must be severed. I need total and complete separation to move on. &amp;nbsp;So no, we can’t meet up from time to time. No, it’s ok to text me. &amp;nbsp;No, I don’t want to be your facebook friend. Do you know how intrusive fb can be? I don’t want to see your status update or look at your new pics. I don’t care what’s going on in your life and you shouldn’t care what’s going on in mine. Now, I don’t feel like this forever but I need at least a good six months (sometimes more). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;But you see what happens is after this period of not needing/wanting to know about the person is over so much time has passed that communicating is awkward. Now that I have passed through all my stages of grief and communicating with you doesn’t cause me to move five steps back, so much time has passed that a random text from me just seems inappropriate. I mean I’ve spent all this time avoiding running into you, ignoring your name when it pops up on the IM, and denying your friend request that I have no clue what to say or what your response is going to be. I mean, “Hey, it’s me; yeah I know I said I never wanted to talk to you again but I’m over it now. I just wanted to see how you were doing.” Just doesn’t seem like it would go over that well. So even though I still care and I’m at the point where I can care I can’t break the rules I so adamantly enforced. &amp;nbsp;So even though I have the urge to call you up just to check in, you know tell you what’s new with me, find out what’s new with you, I just can’t. So in those brief moments when I cross your mind just know you cross mine as well.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/feeds/1917913958575638007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/04/i-still-care.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/1917913958575638007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/1917913958575638007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/04/i-still-care.html' title='I know I said I never wanted to talk to you again but...'/><author><name>B.Shanel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09102333991600731040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVB_Y5rRJmQ/Sx8EJGyNvKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/middspLE_O0/S220/me+and+tam+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5108619079358307016.post-3577699601557439967</id><published>2010-04-25T22:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-25T22:02:34.861-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hired Help</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;I have a part time gig through a nanny service where I’m a temporary nanny.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;Generally nanny is synonymous to babysitter, which is what I normally am. You know the folks leave for a few hours; they don’t have a regular sitter so they call and I watch the kids.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;Well this weekend I was a full fledge nanny.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;I had a few revelations from this gig. I’m going to warn you right now that this blog is pretty random so try your best to follow along. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;Revelation number 1- I am pretty uppity&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;This one was hard for me because I don’t really consider myself to be uppity but I really am. I mean not in a bad way to where I look down on others (well I’m sure I do that at times) but I don’t consider myself better than anyone.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;A couple of things happened to make me realize this. When the lady first told me that basically I will be with her and the children during the day and that she and her husband would go out at night either after the children were in bed or shortly before I was super crunk (do ppl still say that?). So you are going to pay me to explore DC with you and your children? I’m so down! That is until it’s time to actually explore DC and it hits me, I’m the hired help. Now, the lady and her husband never treated me like hired helped; they were extremely nice and treated me like family. &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;And when people asked if we met in college, (b/c we’re around the same age. &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;More on that later) her response was, “no, she’s helping me with the kids because I just had surgery.” And it really seemed as though I was walking around with my friend and her two kids. However, since I knew I was hired help it made me feel a little uncomfortable. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;The other thing that happened was in casual conversation she asked me if I had children.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;Now when she asked this my face was all kinda of tore up. She was like oh ok not yet, I understand. At that point I realized my facial expression was a mess and that she misread it, which was probably the best. When she asked me that the first thing that came to mind was, “lady, do you really think I would be here with you and your kids if I had kids of my own?” However, I had to check myself because people with children watch other people’s kids every day. How dare I think it’s so above me to make that kind of sacrifice. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;Revelation number 2- I’m not ready to be married and have a family&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;As I stated above the lady is close to my age. She’s 29 and is married with two children. We lead completely different lives. While she’s running around finding nanny’s, scheduling field trips, filling backpacks with snacks and pampers, and scheduling dinner with associates I’m watching her children, writing a blog, and looking at this basketball game. I’m sure she loves her life just as it is but I love mine too and I don’t want to trade places.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;But it’s more than that. She and I were having a discussion and she was telling me how she used to be a professional classical singer and dancer. But when she had kids she had to give up that life because she didn’t think she could be a good performer and a good mom at the same time. She still performs from time to time but basically she’s a stay at home mom. Here’s the part that got me. She went on to say that she made the decision without hesitation but here she is three years later, 29 going on 30 and she has to find something to do with herself. She said she’s lost herself. She had an identity before she was a wife and a mother and she lost that. So she’s trying to find another career that is suitable to being a professional, a wife, and a mother. She went on to say she doesn’t regret the decision she made because she loves her family but she has to find the time to find herself again.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;This is not somethingthat I personally I want to go through, especially not at 29. I kinda feel like the older I am I will already have some since of accomplishment so it won’t be like I’m trading something in for the other it will be like I’m starting a new chapter in my life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;Revelation number 3 – Children may not be for me&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Now, I’ve been known to say I don’t know if I want kids and no one ever believes me because I have a motherly personality. Well, I’m serious. I mean I’m sure when I get married if my husband like, “have baby by me baby be a millionaire” I’m going to be like, “alright”. But I’m saying if he doesn’t say that, I’m not sure I’ll press the issue. What I am sure of is that I can’t have twins or stair step children. I’m going to need a good 2.5 to 3 years in between each child or else I’m not doing it. If I happen to get pregnant with a second or third child any sooner, I’m throwing in the towel. I quit and he’s going to have to find someone else to raise those kids because I’m just not doing it.&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/feeds/3577699601557439967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/04/hired-help.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/3577699601557439967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/3577699601557439967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/04/hired-help.html' title='Hired Help'/><author><name>B.Shanel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09102333991600731040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVB_Y5rRJmQ/Sx8EJGyNvKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/middspLE_O0/S220/me+and+tam+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5108619079358307016.post-2024513238994491411</id><published>2010-04-22T19:04:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-22T23:46:38.900-04:00</updated><title type='text'>MYTH BUSTERS 101</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: 13px;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: 13px;&quot;&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Alright, so even though I vowed not to touch on this (because in my opinion it really is a non issue) I have been forced to speak on it. I attempted to be a journalist and conduct surveys and all but that is not my calling. I don’t have the patience to wait for everyone’s responses nor do I want to interpret the data so I’m just going to go off of what I believe.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;All this poor single Black female business is a ploy by the man! Lol ok not really but let’s stop and take a look at this thing. Let’s break down all the “reasons” we’re single and see how true it is.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ol start=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-top: 0in;&quot; type=&quot;1&quot;&gt;&lt;li class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;&quot;&gt;&lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;There is a shortage of &quot;educated&quot; Black men&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: .25in;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: .25in;&quot;&gt;This may be true in reference to college educated Black men but just because they didn’t attend college doesn’t mean they are not educated. There are plenty of Black men who were in the military or went to some type of trade school. When I was searching for what I would call “suitable bachelors” to give my questionnaire to I found plenty. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: .25in;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: .25in;&quot;&gt;Also, when I think about my “circle of friends” from college the amount of girls and guys were equal. When I think about my current “circle of friends” the guys outnumber the girls. All educated (in one way or another) suitable Black bachelors. So…&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: .25in;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: .25in;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ol start=&quot;2&quot; style=&quot;margin-top: 0in;&quot; type=&quot;1&quot;&gt;&lt;li class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;&quot;&gt;&lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;They are marrying others. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: .25in;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: .25in;&quot;&gt;While I know this is what they want us to believe I read somewhere that the percentage of Black males who marry outside of their race is very low. Now I don’t remember the actual percentage or source for that matter but once again I’m not a journalist so I don’t care to look it up. But that&#39;s what I read so I believe it. On top of that I can’t think of any of my married friends who actually married outside of their race. So I decided to throw acquaintances in there I can only think of one. So once again… idk &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: .25in;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ol start=&quot;3&quot; style=&quot;margin-top: 0in;&quot; type=&quot;1&quot;&gt;&lt;li class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;&quot;&gt;&lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;They have so many options they’re not      willing to commit.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: .25in;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: .25in;&quot;&gt;I’m going to look at the people I know. &amp;nbsp;In my college circle of friends one of the guys are married and two are engaged meaning they are willing to commit. There are other guys who want to be married or at least be in a serious relationship and guess what; &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;they too can’t “find anyone”! &lt;/b&gt;So… there are guys out there who are willing to commit. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: .25in;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ol start=&quot;4&quot; style=&quot;margin-top: 0in;&quot; type=&quot;1&quot;&gt;&lt;li class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;&quot;&gt;&lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;Black women are too Picky&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: .25in;&quot;&gt;I’m not really sure how I feel about this one. One question in survey was what do you want in a man and there were a range of answers. I will admit some of the lists were a little lengthy but not all of them were. I think that is true of all nationalities. I’m sure there are plenty of women of other races who have long lists. So I’m going to say this is not something you put off on Black women, it’s based on personality. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: .25in;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;So there you have it. Here are my real life examples that debunk the myth that just because I am a Black professional woman I will either be single for the rest of my life or I will be forced to settle. So ladies don’t believe the hype!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/feeds/2024513238994491411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/04/myth-busters-101.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/2024513238994491411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/2024513238994491411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/04/myth-busters-101.html' title='MYTH BUSTERS 101'/><author><name>B.Shanel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09102333991600731040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVB_Y5rRJmQ/Sx8EJGyNvKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/middspLE_O0/S220/me+and+tam+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5108619079358307016.post-368369907939071815</id><published>2010-04-18T21:19:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-18T21:24:06.646-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Golden</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: 13px;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: 13px;&quot;&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: medium;&quot;&gt;So yesterday we had a “Golden Party” at the house. At this party a group of ladies got together and talked about what inspires us, risks we’ve taken, and our goals for the future. We wrote in our journals, made vision boards, and fellowshipped over food and drink.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: medium;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: medium;&quot;&gt;Now, I will admit I was a little skeptical at first. Though I love to blog I don’t really like journaling. The thought of the vision board was really unnerving to me seeing as though&lt;a href=&quot;http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/02/just-fyi.html&quot;&gt; I’m not completely sure of my goals.&lt;/a&gt; Plus, I feel since I’m a teacher I’m expected to be super creative. I’m not. My job forces growth in this area but this is something I have to work at; it in no means comes naturally to me. So I usually don’t like activities as such. I was however extremely excited about being in the company of positive progressive women so I kept an opened mind. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: medium;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: medium;&quot;&gt;The first activity, lunch, went well of course lol. The next activity was to answer a set of questions in our journals. They were question to be discussed later so it wasn’t actually like a journal entry it was more like taking notes so you’ll know what to say. So far so good. &amp;nbsp;Next activity, make a web of your goals (crickets). Alright friends, this is where it starts to get a little tricky. The rules were to make circle. Then in the middle of the circle write a goal for example, home. Then draw and arrow outside of the circle and add details. For example, brick, three bedrooms, two baths, hardwood floor. (Sigh) see here’s the problem I’m not that detailed at all. I know I want a house. But do I know what the house looks like? Not at all.&amp;nbsp;So now the party is getting a little frustrating but I’m a team player so I push through. My circle goes something like this. &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: medium;&quot;&gt;Move - MD&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: medium;&quot;&gt;New Job- New location&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: medium;&quot;&gt;PHD- UMD&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: medium;&quot;&gt;House - my own&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: medium;&quot;&gt;Swimsuit- bikini&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: medium;&quot;&gt;Travel- Int&#39;l&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: medium;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: medium;&quot;&gt;Not a lot of details I know &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Wingdings;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: medium;&quot;&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: medium;&quot;&gt; but that’s all I got right now so…. Anyhow so the next activity is to make the vision boards. Now I’m really stressed out because how am I going to find pictures of these things?? And you want me to make them look pretty on a board?? I really don’t see this happening but hey, it’s worth a shot. So I’m looking through these magazines and I got nothing! This is where the teacher in me comes out. I can make things work with limited resources; that I am definitely good at! So I made my board and I love it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: medium;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdngjMyyO5oQvZfSK6xH9xeZqZSoRXJokaDPwqZoXUfYIPlllRARA7nw3uc22rg08V0oGkVyUDqDJGHq-AJKt36zElMOmRh3ATUEt86cOJGFBZHxcVHnm5NjoyGDGfruTkByFvnqTTDQ/s1600/039.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdngjMyyO5oQvZfSK6xH9xeZqZSoRXJokaDPwqZoXUfYIPlllRARA7nw3uc22rg08V0oGkVyUDqDJGHq-AJKt36zElMOmRh3ATUEt86cOJGFBZHxcVHnm5NjoyGDGfruTkByFvnqTTDQ/s320/039.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: medium;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: medium;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: medium;&quot;&gt;I really had a great time with all the ladies. I loved talking about making risks. I loved thinking about what has inspired me thus far. And most of all I loved thinking about my goals. Though my goals are still not completely defined I have them written out all pretty on my beautiful board. Thanks ladies!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/feeds/368369907939071815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/04/golden.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/368369907939071815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/368369907939071815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/04/golden.html' title='Golden'/><author><name>B.Shanel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09102333991600731040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVB_Y5rRJmQ/Sx8EJGyNvKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/middspLE_O0/S220/me+and+tam+2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdngjMyyO5oQvZfSK6xH9xeZqZSoRXJokaDPwqZoXUfYIPlllRARA7nw3uc22rg08V0oGkVyUDqDJGHq-AJKt36zElMOmRh3ATUEt86cOJGFBZHxcVHnm5NjoyGDGfruTkByFvnqTTDQ/s72-c/039.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5108619079358307016.post-8541251263998763929</id><published>2010-04-18T00:21:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-18T15:16:16.585-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Like A Boy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;object height=&quot;385&quot; width=&quot;480&quot;&gt;&lt;param name=&quot;movie&quot; value=&quot;http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/_HKH7Emy1SY&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x006699&amp;amp;color2=0x54abd6&quot;&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name=&quot;allowFullScreen&quot; value=&quot;true&quot;&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name=&quot;allowscriptaccess&quot; value=&quot;always&quot;&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src=&quot;http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/_HKH7Emy1SY&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x006699&amp;amp;color2=0x54abd6&quot; type=&quot;application/x-shockwave-flash&quot; allowscriptaccess=&quot;always&quot; allowfullscreen=&quot;true&quot; width=&quot;480&quot; height=&quot;385&quot;&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;What if I had a thing on the side? Made you cry? Would the rules change up? Or would they still apply? If I played you like toy? Sometimes I wish I could act like a boy?”  And my favorite part “Can’t be getting mad! What you mad? Can’t handle that?”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Now I don’t necessarily care for the lyrics of this song because I don’t equate acting like a boy to cheating or mistreating someone. I have been accused of acting “like a guy” pertaining to relationships. I have never cheated on anyone and I very rarely mistreat people. I can be however, “emotionally unavailable”, so I’ve been told. But that’s not necessarily the case. It just takes me a while to open up. Just because I’m feeling you doesn’t mean I’m &lt;i&gt;all&lt;/i&gt; in to you. If we’re just “talking” and we don’t talk everyday so be it. I’m not going to stalk you. If I call you and you don’t respond I’m not calling you back until you call me. And when we do talk I’m not going to be tripping about how you didn’t call. We’re cool.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Most guys say this is what they want. They complain about how females act but they really like it. As a matter of fact when a girl doesn’t act the way they’re expected to men can’t handle it. Which is why “can’t be getting mad! What you mad? Can’t handle that?” is my favorite part of the song. I’ve had guys complain about me not opening up. I’ve had guys tell me that I’m not soft enough. Me not soft, do you know even me? I guess not because I’ve heard guys say they feel like they don’t know me. My favorite was a discussion with a guy I used to date and we spent a lot of time together. I brought up the fact that maybe we spent too much time together.  When he felt like he’d been nice to me for an extended length of time he would start being mean. Plus, we both needed “&lt;i&gt;me&lt;/i&gt;” time. So his response was, “Well, when you think I’m going to be mean or when you need “&lt;i&gt;me&lt;/i&gt;” time just don’t come over.” My response was, “So what about when you need “&lt;i&gt;me&lt;/i&gt;” time?” And he said, “You’re the one talking about we spend too much time together. I never said anything me time. I’m cool.” Talk about role reversal. Every guy can’t have that convo.  Even though guys often complain about their girl smothering them, if she suggested they spend time apart they would have a fit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
But why? This is what you really want, so you say. So again why can’t you handle it when the girl acts like you? Why is it a problem when she doesn’t call you every day? Why do you care if she doesn’t care if ya’ll hang out all the time? Or if ya’ll decide ya’ll are just dating so she dates other people as well why are you tripping? I just don’t get that one for real. I mean, when a guy says he’s dating, that’s exactly what he’s doing;  dating, which includes multiple people. When a girl is dating she’s waiting on the guy to boo her up. This is absolutely ludicrous! Please believe that while you’re out there not calling me, someone else sure is. When you’re out there hanging out, I’m hanging out too. When we’re dating, &lt;b&gt;WE’RE &lt;/b&gt;dating. It’s just that simple. I don’t consider that acting like a guy. I consider that reciprocity.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/feeds/8541251263998763929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/04/ciara-like-boy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/8541251263998763929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/8541251263998763929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/04/ciara-like-boy.html' title='Like A Boy'/><author><name>B.Shanel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09102333991600731040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVB_Y5rRJmQ/Sx8EJGyNvKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/middspLE_O0/S220/me+and+tam+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5108619079358307016.post-5169163986982592027</id><published>2010-04-16T10:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-16T10:45:23.726-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Exposure</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;The other day I was having dinner at this Thai Sushi place. While I was enjoying my regular, fried rice, this family of about seven walked in. Since I was dining alone and I had nothing better to do I decided to observe the family. There were five kids ranging in ages from about 15 to maybe 4. The first thought that came to mind was &lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;these children aren’t going to find anything on the menu they like. &lt;/i&gt;The mom and dad, mainly the mom, went through and explained the menu to the children. &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;The older children chose what they wanted to eat and the mother ordered for the younger children. When the food came out, the mom had all the children try everything on the table and she again explained to them what they were eating. &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;When she had them try it she would say something like, “You would like this because you like so and so.” You could tell the older children had experience with the food because one, they ordered for themselves and two, if they tried something they didn’t like they didn’t make a fuss. The younger children were the same way. The mom walked them through everything they ate. After they tried something she would ask, “Did you like it?” and they would simply reply yes or no.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;So what’s your point Shanel? I know that’s what everyone is asking. Maybe this is the educator in me but I was thinking this is a wonderful illustration of exposure. This is the kind of exposure I was not privy to as a child. I absolutely love Thai food but I wasn’t introduced to it until grad school. Even still I only eat rice and noodles. More specifically fried rice, bangkok fried rice, pad thai, or drunken noodles. The only reason I eat those is because that’s what I’ve experienced. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;But this transcend far beyond food. By that simple observation I concluded that those children are very cultured. I imagine they eat all different types of foods, they listen to all different genres of music, they appreciate all different forms of art, and in the greater sense they have respect for people from all different walks of life. Simply because at a young age someone took the time to teach them that there is more to life than hamburgers and french fries. Yes, the food may look, feel, and smell different from what you’re used to but go ahead and try it, you may actually like it. Don’t be afraid of something because it’s “different”. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;A lot of people miss out on lesson like this. Which is the primary reason people run out of freshman lit crying when they first experience the writings of Jonathan Kozol. There are people who never leave their neighborhoods. I live roughly 40 minutes outside of the district and I know people from here who have never visited the nation’s capital. How can you ever learn tolerance of others if you never have experience with others? I believe that prejudice is a learned behavior. Intolerance is a vicious cycle that can only be eradicated through education. So friends, step out of your box and try something new. You never know, you just might like it &lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;&quot;&gt;J&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/feeds/5169163986982592027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/04/exposure.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/5169163986982592027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/5169163986982592027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/04/exposure.html' title='Exposure'/><author><name>B.Shanel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09102333991600731040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVB_Y5rRJmQ/Sx8EJGyNvKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/middspLE_O0/S220/me+and+tam+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5108619079358307016.post-8409929891506608096</id><published>2010-04-06T16:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-06T16:52:43.416-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Who would I be</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Over spring break I had the great pleasure of hosting my parents. Now I use the term hosting very loosely because all I really did was provide them with a place to stay, well and I guess a car. In any case they stayed with me for a week.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;During this week I realized a couple of things.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;First off I am so much like both of my parents it’s scary. My dad would do something and I would be like OMG I’m just like him! Then my mom would do something and I would be like OMG I’m just like her! I would like to say I hand-picked the best attributes from both parents and metamorphosed into this beautiful mixture of them both. However, some things I witness were good and others bad. &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Secondly, I realized I really miss the option of seeing my parents on a regular basis. My trips home are often hindered by, well… home. So after being there for a significant amount of time I’m ready to leave the place. &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;Taking the people out of the place showed me how much I really miss them. When I go home I’m always ready to come back. However, I was not ready for them to leave. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;The most intriguing thing I realized is that I am extremely independent, but by necessity not by choice. There were several times when I would just automatically do something for myself and my mom would respond, “Goodness Shanel, let us help.” By the end of the week though, I was somewhat helpless. I got used to people doing things for me and I enjoyed it lol. &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;I wondered how different I would be if I stayed close to home. I mean day one my parents went and bought groceries; mainly because we don’t eat the same foods. But I had every intention of taking them shopping for the things they like and paying for it. But that didn’t happen so…. Next, they paid for everything. We went out to eat everyday (even though I had planned to cook), they paid. Any of the sightseeing things we did, they paid. When we got gas, they paid. They even bought me a new suit and some pumps! I mean it was great let me tell you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;But I started thinking about the whole thing. I know if I still lived in Oklahoma I could stay with them. I wouldn&#39;t but my mom has offered. But like even if I stayed by myself how independent would I be? I feel like I would go out to eat with them every Sunday (my mom doesn’t really cook on Sundays anymore). Before going grocery shopping I would check their cabinets first then make my list accordingly. My mom would still buy me clothes from time to time. My dad would help with major issues pertaining to my car. The list just goes on and on. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;So would I be independent? How long would this last? I mean I’m 26 going on 27. How long do parents hold on to their “little girls”? Who would I be? People who have known me for a good length of time can attest to how I’ve changed since moving far away.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;Most of the changes have been subtle but personality changes no matter how big or small are significant to who we are. &lt;a href=&quot;http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/01/count-your-blessings.html&quot;&gt;I really like who I’ve become&lt;/a&gt; but I’ve never considered how I wouldn’t be the same person had I chosen a different path. &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;I guess there’s no sense in dwelling on questions that will forever remain unanswered. I’m still very intrigued.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/feeds/8409929891506608096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/04/who-would-i-be.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/8409929891506608096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/8409929891506608096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/04/who-would-i-be.html' title='Who would I be'/><author><name>B.Shanel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09102333991600731040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVB_Y5rRJmQ/Sx8EJGyNvKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/middspLE_O0/S220/me+and+tam+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5108619079358307016.post-7748542707430658254</id><published>2010-03-14T21:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-14T21:11:43.994-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Soundtrack of our Lives</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;The wonderful thing about music is it lets us know that others are going through the exact same things we are. When we listen to music we realize our situations aren’t so unique. &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;There are people who share the same feelings whether they be good or bad. Music lets us know that someone empathizes with us; someone has been there before.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;When I listen to Chrisette Michele’s &lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;Epiphany&lt;/i&gt; I am relieved to know that I am not alone in being a “silly girl”. &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;It comforts me to listen to Ne-Yo’s &lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;Part of the List&lt;/i&gt; and know that other people sit and reminisce. &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;In both &lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;Again &lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;and &lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;Another Again &lt;/i&gt;John Legend confirms the fact that I am not the only person who tends to linger. &lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;Best for Last&lt;/i&gt; By Adele proves that someone else thought they were really something they weren’t. &lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;If She Breaks Your Heart&lt;/i&gt; by Stevie Wonder by way of The Foreign Exchange affirms that when you walk away and your life doesn’t turn out as planned I don’t have to be there to comfort you.&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;India Arie’s &lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;Testimony:Vol.1, Life &amp;amp; Relationship &lt;/i&gt;(the whole album) reassures me that there is life after &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;disappointment. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;The same way music soothes my soul when I’m hurting it also rejuvenates my spirit with the testament of the love that is to come.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;Raheem DaVaughn’s &lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;Love Drug &lt;/i&gt;attests to the fact that someday I will be undoubtedly captivated by someone and the feelings will be reciprocated. In &lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;Angel&lt;/i&gt; Robin Thicke guarantees that I will be the center of someone’s universe.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;Til it Happens &lt;/i&gt;by Corinne Bailey Rae readies me for love. Lauryn Hill assists me in the preparation of a carefree type of love in &lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;Nothing Even Matters.&lt;/i&gt; Listening to &lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;Someone&lt;/i&gt; by Musiq reaffirms that I will be appreciated simply for who I am. Anthony Hamilton’s &lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;The Point of it All&lt;/i&gt; is an indication that actions will be made purely out of love. &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;While Brian McKnight’s &lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;Never Felt This Way &lt;/i&gt;assures me that I will be all someone needs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;tab-stops: 189.75pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;tab-stops: 189.75pt;&quot;&gt;Regardless of the emotion someone somewhere has expressed it through intricate lyrics and has delicately placed them in front a beautifully orchestrated melody. All you have to do is stop and listen…&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/feeds/7748542707430658254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/03/soundtrack-of-our-lives.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/7748542707430658254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/7748542707430658254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/03/soundtrack-of-our-lives.html' title='The Soundtrack of our Lives'/><author><name>B.Shanel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09102333991600731040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVB_Y5rRJmQ/Sx8EJGyNvKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/middspLE_O0/S220/me+and+tam+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5108619079358307016.post-7724510975192197897</id><published>2010-03-04T23:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-04T23:58:00.609-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Single and Civil</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;I’ve been so uninspired lately but I felt the need to blog so I asked my friend KP (from NJ not KP from TX) for some help. He suggested that I write about being single yet civil. Seeing as though it is an accurate depiction of the stage in my life I am currently in I thought it was a great idea!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;So what does it mean? It’s simple; it means I’m cool with my relationship status. I understand I’m getting older and a lot of people my age are “ready to settle down” but I’m not really sure I’m there yet. I’m taking this time to get to know me. I need to know who I am first. Then I can figure out what I do and don’t want. That’s what dating is doing for me. Just recently, I’ve discovered a whole list of “don’t wants”. And you know, I would have never known I didn’t want it if I hadn’t experienced it. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;I have been fortunate enough to have a good number of dates. And I will admit that I have thought about whether or not my feelings on dating would be different if I wasn’t presented with the opportunity to date regularly. But I don’t think so. I think my ideology is one of the reasons guys date me. There’s no pressure for commitment and I’m not desperate. We all know if a girl starts talking long term on the first date dude is a throwin’ deuces (I personally don’t blame him). We also know no one wants to be with a desperate person. People who are desperate themselves don’t want to be coupled with another desperate person. We’ve all had this convo with our “desperate” friend. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;“Hey girl, so how was Tim?” &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;“I mean he’s cool and all, real nice and everything but girl, he’s a little too desperate for me.”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;“Really, I thought you two would really be compatible.” Translation (Umm fool, you desperate too!!!) &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;I digress…. So yeah, I am currently single and civil (doesn’t it have a nice ring to it!) Point of clarification, though I am not searching for him if Mr. Right comes waltzing by I’m not going to send him packing, momma didn’t raise no fool! But while he’s frolicking around I’m going to do the same. I’m enjoying getting to know me. And if I must say so myself, I really like this person I’m getting to know!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/feeds/7724510975192197897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/03/single-and-civil.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/7724510975192197897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/7724510975192197897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/03/single-and-civil.html' title='Single and Civil'/><author><name>B.Shanel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09102333991600731040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVB_Y5rRJmQ/Sx8EJGyNvKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/middspLE_O0/S220/me+and+tam+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5108619079358307016.post-3864100167863058883</id><published>2010-02-22T20:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T20:00:35.591-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just FYI....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;There is something about experimenting in the kitchen and listening to neo soul that completely relaxes me. Truth be told, I don’t think I ever really appreciated Maxwell’s Urban Hang Suite ‘til now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Here’s the deal, I’ve been stressed for the past couple of days. For whatever reason I am feeling compelled to plan out the next ten or so years of my life. Problem is I DON’T KNOW WHAT I WANT TO DO! I mean I love teaching. But I want to be more than just a teacher. What more you ask? Well shoot, I don’t know! I thought I had an end goal but in my preparation to make steps towards this alleged goal I started feeling unsure of myself. I’ve always known what I wanted to do. I think this is the first time that I really just don’t know where my life is headed. Super scary! Well not that scary because like I said I love teaching so if that’s what I’m going to do for the rest of my life that will be ok. But I’ve never done anything for the “rest of my life”. Starting after elementary we have some type transition every couple of years.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;So…I’ve been doing this for three years now so in accordance with life (up to this point) it’s just about time for a transition. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;But I’m not going to think about that tonight. I am going to eat this delicious Cajun chicken and shrimp pasta I conjured up, sip a glass of chardonnay, and listen to some soothing music (The Foreign Exchange is currently being played), and enjoy this tranquil mood.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;So for tonight let&#39;s just leave it all behind.........&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/feeds/3864100167863058883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/02/just-fyi.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/3864100167863058883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/3864100167863058883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/02/just-fyi.html' title='Just FYI....'/><author><name>B.Shanel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09102333991600731040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVB_Y5rRJmQ/Sx8EJGyNvKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/middspLE_O0/S220/me+and+tam+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5108619079358307016.post-4349896317223200903</id><published>2010-02-20T16:03:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T23:42:18.400-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Conversation</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Bookman Old Style&#39;, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;I recently read the book The Conversation by Hill Harper. Let me first say I thoroughly enjoyed it. I don’t generally read relationship book. Actually, I hate books on relationships. Somehow, I get suckered into reading them but I’ve never read one in its entirety until this one. I didn’t realize the book was about relationships until I after I purchased it (yeah, not really sure how I missed that point either). I kept hearing good things about it, and then I ran across it while at an airport one day so I quickly made my purchase. I was reading something else at the time so I just stuffed the book in my bag. I didn’t get it out until I was traveling again. That’s when I realized it was about relationships. I will honestly say I was a little distraught but I didn’t have anything to read so I was like what the heck, let’s give it a go.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Bookman Old Style&#39;, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Bookman Old Style&#39;, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Subsequently, I loved it! I&#39;m pretty sure the reason I enjoyed it is because it didn’t give me an answer. It wasn’t like, “here a prescription on finding and keeping a man”. Most relationship books are like do this and don’t do that and blah, blah, blah. But that’s not how life works. The real world doesn’t have a concrete set of rules. And this book explored the concept that people are different and different things work for different people. I really appreciated that. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Bookman Old Style&#39;, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Bookman Old Style&#39;, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;I loved how I didn’t feel like I was being lectured. I felt like I was listening in on a conversation (no pun intended, that’s really how I felt). My only complaint is I felt like I was listening to a conversation but I couldn’t participate…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/feeds/4349896317223200903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/02/conversation.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/4349896317223200903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/4349896317223200903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/02/conversation.html' title='The Conversation'/><author><name>B.Shanel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09102333991600731040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVB_Y5rRJmQ/Sx8EJGyNvKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/middspLE_O0/S220/me+and+tam+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5108619079358307016.post-5659562606882258447</id><published>2010-02-17T22:39:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T11:53:48.264-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I Hate</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Disclaimer: This post is completely random. I am simply rambling. Most men won’t be able to relate and will think this is completely meaningless. Feel free to stop reading at this point. Ladies, though you will be able to relate you may still feel this read is a waste of time so you may feel free to stop reading at this point as well. For those of you who have nothing better to do….have at it! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Things I hate:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Exercising- I absolutely hate working out. I dread it so much that I start thinking about how much I don’t want to do it at around 2:00pm. I think about how many times I’ve worked out that week already. I think about how many times I’ll be able to work out during the week if I don’t work out that particular day. &amp;nbsp;I think about what I’ve eaten that day and if it would maybe be ok if I skip this day. All this goes through my head until about 5 or 6 o’ clock when I finally decided to strap on my sneakers and give it a whirl. Or when I decide that today is going to be the day I skip! Yes my friends, I loathe working out. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Shaving- I hate shaving. I am so upset with the man (b/c I know it wasn’t a women) who decided that he likes his women better with less hair. I am even more upset with the woman who decided to try it out. But more than that I’m upset with the man for telling his friends he got his girl to shave who then told their girls to shave and started this awful trend. I mean ya’ll couldn’t just keep it to yourselves?!?! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Waxing- Again I am mad at the person who thought up shaving because I only have to wax because it’s better than shaving! I think to myself every time I get ready to sit in that chair, “now why am I doing this? What kind of idiot subjects themselves to this kind of pain over and over and over?” (sigh)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;So why do I do it you ask? Easy, I’m afraid of being a big girl (I don’t have anything against big girls I just don’t think I would be a pretty one). &amp;nbsp;Therefore I suffer through work out after work out to ensure I stay a comfortable size. I love the way my legs feel when I lotion up after I shave. I also enjoy the feeling of prickle free legs against satin sheets; so I shave. I love how arched eyebrow accent the face and I love how smooth my skin is after a fresh wax; so I endure the pain. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;People have said to me, “Girl, Idk why you do all that, you don’t even have a man to appreciate it”. But it’s simple, I do it for me. If I were only doing this for a man as soon as we got “comfortable” I would stop. I wouldn’t be able to keep up the façade because though I’m nice I don’t generally do things for other people that would put me out. Then he would be mad because I wouldn’t be the same girl he tried to get at. We all know how that goes…. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Somehow all these things I completely and utterly hate leave me feeling absolutely wonderful after I do them. So I do what I must to look/feel how &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;I&lt;/b&gt; want!&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/feeds/5659562606882258447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/02/things-i-hate.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/5659562606882258447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/5659562606882258447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/02/things-i-hate.html' title='Things I Hate'/><author><name>B.Shanel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09102333991600731040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVB_Y5rRJmQ/Sx8EJGyNvKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/middspLE_O0/S220/me+and+tam+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5108619079358307016.post-3683411262582597613</id><published>2010-02-15T20:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-15T21:08:48.130-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Reflection</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;My trip to The Gambia was absolutely amazing. &amp;nbsp;It was truly an unforgettable experience. Now it’s time to reflect. The first thing I noticed was how peaceful I felt. Like the moment you arrive it’s like aura of peace is all around you. The people are genuinely nice. When people ask you how you’re doing they really want to know how you’re doing; it’s not just pleasantries. &amp;nbsp;And, they expect an answer (this took me a minute to get used to). &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;The next thing I noticed was how the women carried themselves. They were always dressed from head to toe. We’ve all seen traditional African attire, that’s how most of the women dressed every day. And I’m not just talking about the women in the city, but even the women in the villages. They really cared about their appearance. And not in the prima donna kind of way but in the, I take pride in how I look kind of way. I was truly impressed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; ***Warning I’m about to get real deep***&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;So, I am a Christian and I believe that everything happens for a reason and that God is in complete control. I still believe this but this trip made me feel a little differently about the whole concept. When I look at the conditions of The Gambia compared to the States I have questions. &amp;nbsp;For me to believe that everything that happens is in God’s will means I have to accept the fact that God allowed my ancestors to be ripped from their homes and suffer through the middle passage. The survivors were enslaved, beat, raped, and murdered. Those who just so happened to survived all that had to endure discrimination of all sorts. The list of what my ancestors had to bear goes on and on. But for what?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Did all this really happen so &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;I&lt;/b&gt; can live in a developed country and have a surplus of opportunities? Did God know that one day &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;I&lt;/b&gt; would be born so he allowed&lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt; me &lt;/b&gt;benefit from other’s suffering? And if the answer to these questions are yes what am&lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt; I&lt;/b&gt; doing? Am &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;I &lt;/b&gt;taking full advantage of opportunities afforded to me? &amp;nbsp;I mean people paid for this with their life. Am &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;I&lt;/b&gt; really fulfilling my destiny? I just don’t know, I just really don’t know….&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/feeds/3683411262582597613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/02/reflection.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/3683411262582597613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/3683411262582597613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/02/reflection.html' title='Reflection'/><author><name>B.Shanel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09102333991600731040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVB_Y5rRJmQ/Sx8EJGyNvKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/middspLE_O0/S220/me+and+tam+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5108619079358307016.post-998058274803464896</id><published>2010-02-14T23:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-14T23:00:34.012-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Going Home</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: 13px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Like all other good things my time in the Gambia has come to an end, tear&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;&quot;&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; (a summary blog is soon to follow). &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;Needless to say my journey home was quite eventful. So here it goes…&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;We leave the hotel around 2:00pm (9am eastern) Friday afternoon. First we have to see the commander. Now you probably don’t know this but Muslims have what they call Jumu’ah, this is a congregational prayer on Friday, every Friday. In The Gambia they hold this around 2pm. I’m pretty sure every Gambian knows about this because it’s a big deal. Like all the Muslims participate and the national religion is Islam so…. yeah. &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;Anyhow, at around 2 we decide to stop by the Commander’s office, who can’t see us because he’s praying with everyone else, so we had to wait. Makes complete sense to me!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;So we finally hit the road around 3ish (10am eastern). You guys already know about the &lt;a href=&quot;http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/02/flight.html&quot;&gt;drive&lt;/a&gt; so we won’t even go into that. I’ll just say I was mentally prepared this time so it was better. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;We get into Dakar at around 10:30pm (5:30pm eastern). Let’s dwell on this for a moment. Now, there are no stoplights in Dakar, not a one! So it’s basically like a free for all. You just kinda go when you want to. I mean everyone yields and then you just take turns. Mind you Dakar is a metropolitan area with a population of over 2 million. Yeah, and no stoplights… not a one. The people I’m with don’t really know where they are going so we drive around this metroplex, with no stoplights, for over an hour. &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;Needless to say I was a little on edge. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;We finally make to the airport at midnight (7:00pm Eastern). Let me remind you that I left my hotel at 2:00pm (9am eastern). It takes us over 2 hours to check in and get through security. My flight was at 3:30am (10:30pm eastern). So we start boarding at what 3:00am (10am eastern)? So it’s 3:30 and we’re not moving; like we haven’t had the turn off your electronics speech or anything. So finally they make an announcement I’m not really sure of the time because I left my hotel at 2:00pm (9am Eastern) and it’s now after 3:30am (10:30pm eastern) so I’m slightly delusional. Apparently the jet stream is real bad so the 9 hour flight is going to take 9.5 hours (mind you the flight there was 6 hours). On top of that the plane is too heavy since that extra .5 hours is added. So they ask all the stand-by passengers to get off. Umm, now it’s 4:40am (11:40pm eastern) and we’re still not moving. So they make another announcement. Since we’ve been sitting here burning fuel we still don’t have the correct weight: fuel ratio. So what’s the solution? They have to debag the plane. That means everyone’s luggage has to be taken off and left in Senegal. Now, I wasn’t upset at all. Number one, I’d prefer my luggage in Senegal over me in the Atlantic any day. Number two, I’m going home and I kind of have a very small case of OCD so I have at least two of everything at home because you just never know… So yeah, we finally leave around 5:00am (noon eastern) Saturday morning. Let me remind you I left my hotel at 2:00pm (9:00am eastern). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;After the ridiculously long flight, and extremely long layover (which was a blessing in disguise because most people missed their connection flight) I make it to DC. &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;Of course I wait for Marcel for over an hour because he’s just leaving when I arrive. And for you DC people I didn’t fly into DCA, I flew into Dulles. A mess I know! To top matters off I didn’t have a coat and was REALLY cold outside. And, my car had to be dug out of the snow before I can drive. Back to the real world (sigh)&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/feeds/998058274803464896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/02/going-home.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/998058274803464896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/998058274803464896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/02/going-home.html' title='Going Home'/><author><name>B.Shanel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09102333991600731040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVB_Y5rRJmQ/Sx8EJGyNvKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/middspLE_O0/S220/me+and+tam+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5108619079358307016.post-3245462934401677523</id><published>2010-02-08T13:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-08T13:40:39.748-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Market...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: 13px;&quot;&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;The market oh the market, smh. Now, I consider myself to be a pretty good bargain shopper.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;I mean when I go to New York I can talk to those people and get my purses at about any price I want. I come in with my “don’t try to play me” attitude or my alter ego as referred to by Faith, East Coast Shanel (ESC) shows face. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;But I didn’t have it here. I think it was because there were so many factors to consider. First, sometimes they would give me a price and sometimes they would ask how much I wanted to pay. Next, I had to convert it from Dalasi to US dollars. Then I had to think about how much I would pay for it in the states. Then I had to decide if that’s how much I would pay for it here. I don’t want to cheat the people out of a good price but I don’t want to be cheated either.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;I mean don’t charge me how much you would commonly make in a day on one items because I’m a foreigner. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Then it was like I feel better about doing it in the states or somewhere like that because I know some girl in a shop made it for a dollar a day. So even though I’m barely paying anything you’re still making a profit because you’re not paying the workers. Here I’m watching you sew this dress or carve this figurine.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;Then it’s like well that could be part of the hustle too, let me sit here and make this one rug so this silly girl can think I’m doing all the work when really I have a couple of girls in the back that I’m not paying. Clearly, I am guilty of over thinking the whole operation but that is way too much to do at once! &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;So friends, as of now the souvenirs aren’t looking so good. &lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;&quot;&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; I am going to try the market one more time. We’ll see how it goes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/feeds/3245462934401677523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/02/market.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/3245462934401677523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/3245462934401677523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/02/market.html' title='The Market...'/><author><name>B.Shanel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09102333991600731040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVB_Y5rRJmQ/Sx8EJGyNvKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/middspLE_O0/S220/me+and+tam+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5108619079358307016.post-9166892386832321195</id><published>2010-02-08T13:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-08T13:33:40.659-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Church</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Arial; font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: 13px;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrPRtbZSPPaCFmLVU2siIl593SJWQOV_Th0bQ9TpcLMKDtYUya6uHipbVDyEUmws7YRwnFj8_gYrFT0LOcSKaUScbdeDr0MieQcJfxCK_XVzWFkhrS2NrfBxVgkwyt1EhJ2yNS5PmXWg/s1600-h/063.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrPRtbZSPPaCFmLVU2siIl593SJWQOV_Th0bQ9TpcLMKDtYUya6uHipbVDyEUmws7YRwnFj8_gYrFT0LOcSKaUScbdeDr0MieQcJfxCK_XVzWFkhrS2NrfBxVgkwyt1EhJ2yNS5PmXWg/s320/063.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is a picture of the Christian church we attended. Saying that driving up to the building was a humbling experience would completely be an understatement. When we drove up we were all like, “Umm, they can’t be having service here, this church isn’t finished.”&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;We were informed that this was the only church they knew of.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;We were a little early but we could see there were a few people on the inside. Indeed this is where service was to be conducted so we walked in and had a seat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Though there were no windows it was cooler than I thought it be. I’ve been to many churches in backwoods Oklahoma in the middle of the summer with no air conditioning and this church was definitely cooler than a lot of those.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;The service was rather nice. Even though everything was basically in English there was still a language barrier. Also, the scenarios used during the sermon were catered to the population (which it the way it should have been) so I missed out on a lot. But I got the gist of what was going on so it was all good.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;The best part to me was the singing. First off I knew all the songs! And you all know how I need to be able to sing along with the people during praise and worship. Next, I thought they sounded absolutely amazing. I enjoyed it so much that I almost felt like I was in a novel based out the 60’s. You know the ones where the White people in the story are talking about how much they love to go to the Black church in the evening just to hear them sing. Yeah, I know just shameful. But that’s really how I felt. Overall I enjoyed it!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/feeds/9166892386832321195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/02/church.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/9166892386832321195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/9166892386832321195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/02/church.html' title='Church'/><author><name>B.Shanel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09102333991600731040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVB_Y5rRJmQ/Sx8EJGyNvKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/middspLE_O0/S220/me+and+tam+2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrPRtbZSPPaCFmLVU2siIl593SJWQOV_Th0bQ9TpcLMKDtYUya6uHipbVDyEUmws7YRwnFj8_gYrFT0LOcSKaUScbdeDr0MieQcJfxCK_XVzWFkhrS2NrfBxVgkwyt1EhJ2yNS5PmXWg/s72-c/063.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5108619079358307016.post-4877589925872094445</id><published>2010-02-07T20:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-07T20:14:50.026-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Naming Ceremony</title><content type='html'>On Saturday Feb 6&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; we were invited to a Baby Naming Ceremony. When I first heard the news I allowed my imagination to run wild. I envisioned a guy dressed in an all white traditional garment holding a baby up to the sky saying a prayer in his native tongue. All the while the women would be singing the song from the Color Purple when it kept switching between the scenes where Celia is getting ready to shave/cut Mr. and Nettie and the children were at a ceremony in Africa.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXhavEbyrv0CzsQm5zQRXTeBlbdnhZHaYg1n7QHhxTScn6BmJvIR8JkUU2mZly_QUWt29KIArJ_sEKJPHUE4kUavdHNi8ToZjP8h01EuP_yuDBcD6MsLXFNloZ8jAb8SO3K5CgyUZRyQ/s1600-h/029.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXhavEbyrv0CzsQm5zQRXTeBlbdnhZHaYg1n7QHhxTScn6BmJvIR8JkUU2mZly_QUWt29KIArJ_sEKJPHUE4kUavdHNi8ToZjP8h01EuP_yuDBcD6MsLXFNloZ8jAb8SO3K5CgyUZRyQ/s320/029.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We were told to arrive at 2:00pm. When we arrived it seemed as though not much was happening. There were a few people sitting on the lawn but nothing more so we decided to run a few errands. When we returned not much had changed. We were taken inside and introduced to everyone then we patiently waited. While we were waiting we made observation on how everyone was acting so leisurely. People were walking around, talking, sitting down, and cooking, just kinda chillin. So we had the discussion on how “CP time” had nothing on this; I mean nothing. The other thing was no one seemed to care. Everyone was perfectly content that two hours later the ceremony still hadn’t started. After the mom changed into outfit number three we begin to make inquiries, how long does the program last? About what time will it start? What exactly takes place at the ceremony?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0oK_uiDu4Sg2IAXgOShzYG5l33iicGxZI-edbvnn7y21O1tC7zt8kcDilufVObLqIvC9weaTtqSYwNgscdW9SjJq7l9CuV49KSLHo5cSeUqresjRpDDSN5sj6xUpRld1k9JZtop7VKQ/s1600-h/035.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0oK_uiDu4Sg2IAXgOShzYG5l33iicGxZI-edbvnn7y21O1tC7zt8kcDilufVObLqIvC9weaTtqSYwNgscdW9SjJq7l9CuV49KSLHo5cSeUqresjRpDDSN5sj6xUpRld1k9JZtop7VKQ/s320/035.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Much to my dismay there is no “Color Purplish” ceremony taking place (sigh). &amp;nbsp;A baby naming ceremony lasts for one day. In the morning the parents bring the child out, someone prays for them, and then everyone has breakfast. A few hours later lunch is served then hours later everyone eats dinner. There is also music and dancing. People come all throughout the day some come and go while others stay all day.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYGyvUCxj8H-uS1Vt9veVqk7_1W6n5_c4vRYq2uve8IkUz2cR0eID3SuHXzVrzOIriMOa2CFYUuCa9sKozEMR7gdOBFjCQqGqTwubWMmj_ZvZ4LwwVfjBx-qBvlcCT4LT9kxJkfPBE1A/s1600-h/042.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYGyvUCxj8H-uS1Vt9veVqk7_1W6n5_c4vRYq2uve8IkUz2cR0eID3SuHXzVrzOIriMOa2CFYUuCa9sKozEMR7gdOBFjCQqGqTwubWMmj_ZvZ4LwwVfjBx-qBvlcCT4LT9kxJkfPBE1A/s320/042.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;While I was somewhat disappointed with my findings, sitting around was rather comforting.&amp;nbsp;One, the actual ceremony was very similar to a baby dedication in the states. Two, the program had an outdoor BBQ feel (minus the grill). The people were all congregated in different groups of men in one area, women over here, women over there, the younger men on one side, the younger women on the other, and children running around everywhere. &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;The African elements of the program were, everyone was dressed in traditional African attire and the family finances the whole shindig which includes breakfast, lunch, dinner, and entertainment for all parties involved. We were there during lunch so when it was time to eat they called us inside to a back room. They brought two large bowls of an African cuisine, a bowl of water, and some spoons. &amp;nbsp;As we walked back outside and I saw everyone else eating I realized they took us to the back so we would be comfortable. Though I was completely ready to eat a tradition African meal, outdoors, communally, with my hands, I was very grateful for the opportunity to eat in the back with a spoon.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGNXyzYeUksCu8GPUrqKLogsyksMEmZyvXBB3YYzVlDVgAPsbm61SyTFhMHe9Jhd-ziQ37fNMeejQR19dq1wxBA9Huf65pjmNvDDY26QdFnjr3pgjvpKcr9Y3zjMzmMut2B4vIMZDx7g/s1600-h/049.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;209&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGNXyzYeUksCu8GPUrqKLogsyksMEmZyvXBB3YYzVlDVgAPsbm61SyTFhMHe9Jhd-ziQ37fNMeejQR19dq1wxBA9Huf65pjmNvDDY26QdFnjr3pgjvpKcr9Y3zjMzmMut2B4vIMZDx7g/s320/049.JPG&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRiyPiFMpi3dPhkOgJK7vwNMJadC8bcEC6soEH8qzcPJ0ddtQgzeGWEN7P4tJy9c0ptsMwjNe63TGH_sfQDr1cphh9uEngQXmZJIYB8OlSABoKqWQ3Fl6qdywdpnW7oOj3W84ZGzoM1A/s1600-h/045.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRiyPiFMpi3dPhkOgJK7vwNMJadC8bcEC6soEH8qzcPJ0ddtQgzeGWEN7P4tJy9c0ptsMwjNe63TGH_sfQDr1cphh9uEngQXmZJIYB8OlSABoKqWQ3Fl6qdywdpnW7oOj3W84ZGzoM1A/s320/045.JPG&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/feeds/4877589925872094445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/02/baby-naming-ceremony.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/4877589925872094445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/4877589925872094445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/02/baby-naming-ceremony.html' title='Baby Naming Ceremony'/><author><name>B.Shanel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09102333991600731040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVB_Y5rRJmQ/Sx8EJGyNvKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/middspLE_O0/S220/me+and+tam+2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXhavEbyrv0CzsQm5zQRXTeBlbdnhZHaYg1n7QHhxTScn6BmJvIR8JkUU2mZly_QUWt29KIArJ_sEKJPHUE4kUavdHNi8ToZjP8h01EuP_yuDBcD6MsLXFNloZ8jAb8SO3K5CgyUZRyQ/s72-c/029.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5108619079358307016.post-815940994090407840</id><published>2010-02-05T12:32:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-06T07:11:20.812-05:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="The Gambia"/><title type='text'>The Drive</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;So we made it! The plane landed at 4:50am and I haven’t slept a wink. Now I have to prepare for a 6-7 hour drive from Senegal to The Gambia. Now those of you who know me know I don’t sleep in cars so there goes getting some rest! Aww well. So the car ride ended up being 8 hours long. This has to be the worst 8 hours I’ve ever spent. First, in the incidents that there happens to be lines in the road no one pays attention to them. So I keep flinching because I swear we are going to wreck. Next, the roads are absolutely horrible! I want you to close your eyes and imagine you were to drive on the moon with all the craters and everything in a regular car. This is exactly how it is! So I say to myself, “it would be better if there were no road at al!” &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;And guess what…the road runs out! So now we’re driving on the sand. Not like a dirt road in the country but actual sand. Now is driving on sand better than driving on the moon? Why yes it is. Is it enough to really notice? Umm not really! So yes, we continuously go in between descent road (DC road), moon, and sand for like 8 hours.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Then we are in the middle of nowhere. I know we always say places are in the middle of nowhere but really, somewhere between Senegal and The Gambia is literally the middle of nowhere. There are no roads, no people, just sand. And honestly I had to start singing &lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;Have Faith in God&lt;/i&gt; to myself. And here’s the thing about the middle of nowhere, how do you know here to go? Like I said there aren’t roads anymore just paths I guess and several of them! So first, I thought back to my days in Dover, Oklahoma where the way to get to grandma and grandpas was like make a left at the red house and a right at the first light. I never learned the way to the farm (mainly because I wasn’t old enough to drive out there so I just sat in the back) but still that’s all that kept going through my head, “If I can’t get to my great grandparent’s farm how is he going to get us to The Gambia?!?!” It was seriously like when you see the big tree drive on the right side and the next tree drive on the left. I promise!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Anyhow, the most intriguing thing about this 8 hour drive was the people. From the moment we left the airport around 5:30am til we made it to our hotel around 1:30pm there were people out and about just walking around young and old. Now, I’m sure they weren’t just “walking around” but since I have no clue where they were going it looked to me as though that’s what was going on. And it is just like on t.v. the women are really walking around balancing baskets on their head. The kids are walking around in the sand. And it’s not that the people are dirty (that’s how they’re always depicted on tv) it’s just sand everywhere! So I watched people washing clothes, cleaning horses, and everything and it still looks like they just sat and kicked up dirt all day! Oh and another thing there are donkeys &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;everywhere.&lt;/b&gt; I didn’t really to expect to see donkeys but my goodness! And you know they are rather cute animals. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;I also noticed the distinctive difference between the have and have not’s. The only thing I will say about that is I’m very grateful that I will be allowed to experience this trip in the eyes of the haves. From what I have seen so far I cannot honestly say if I would enjoy Africa if this were not the case.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Oh and by the way I have eaten today and so far so good!!&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/feeds/815940994090407840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/02/drive.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/815940994090407840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5108619079358307016/posts/default/815940994090407840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theinnerworkingofb.blogspot.com/2010/02/drive.html' title='The Drive'/><author><name>B.Shanel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09102333991600731040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVB_Y5rRJmQ/Sx8EJGyNvKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/middspLE_O0/S220/me+and+tam+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry></feed>