FuCK the new year! There isn’t a God-DanG-ThanG new about the year—its just another difficult day on a different calendar. Jerome left me by my lonesome this weekend and I feel so scatter-brained. No one's been able to entertain me, either they’re unavailable or inadequate and maybe I just can’t get over the dramatics of being abandoned the ENTIRE New Years Weekend but its like having an upset stomach—a nausea seeping dark into my tummy thinking about how alone I feel this new years. VomiT!!!! I’m so disappointed in today.
I think this has been the second most shittiest consecutive New Years I’ve had in all my 23+ years of breathing. Last year I upset my family by not coming home and this year I ruined I and my husbands relationship and so he flees the country for the ENTIRE weekend. I’m actually sitting in his apartment right now supposedly getting dressed, supposedly packing my trinkets—I’m suppose to be out of Jerome’s place before he returns tomorrow night, but I haven’t been focused enough to box my shit. I. Am. Mad! Like a growling dog, I am so mad.
I wanted to have sex last night. And as I was looking at the list of prospects I found it easier to stroke my own troubles away, towel dry the remains, and rinse away the residue… and still I’m mad. I didn’t get in the house until about 4 this morning, I had a couple of drinks at a bar with this guy who I met randomly on the street. Of course he thought I was gorgeous—of course he just really wanted to get in my pants. But I appeased him for a few cocktails, sat at the bar to bat my eyes and guzzle free glass after free glass of something frilly and sweet. And I looked at him, this guy, this practically random guy, and I listened to him “marveling” at me and felt him perusing my midsection with his thick palms pressed against me, excusing himself because, as he said, the bar was so crowded, he was being forced against me.
You don’t mind?—he whispered, lips in my ear.
Of course not, I said, shaking my head, ridding my ear of his lips.
Why should I mind? You have no other choice but to run your scaly pudgy black fingers across my FlaT, WashBoard, Usher-brand abs because the bar is too crowded. Why wouldn't I understand SUCH logic!?!? Balderdash!! I should’ve puked all over him and danced the Irish Tango on his forehead stabbing the points of my shoes into his eye! Bullshitter!!
But I kept on sipping free drink after free drink. I had already made it in my mind that it wouldn’t go any further than him offering me drinks and I accepting them with a smile.Though secretly I actually became fond of sitting at the bar being offered up the sauce and fawned over like an Asian dish garnished with Geisha. I’d make a perfect blonde woman; legs crossed at the barstool, no panties, red lipstick, stilettos and a smoke. But I’m still mad.
My father went partying tonight, its actually my parents 26th anniversary and this year they decided not to do anything special. So he hit the streets. This morning, I spent the rest of my morning, after the bar, asleep at my parents in the basement. We, my parents, sisters and Kiwi, my niece, toasted to the occasion. I was already half drunk and drowsy from having just gone to sleep maybe two hours prior, but we all raised our little glasses, Kiwi with her sparkling white grape juice and the rest of us with wine, and cheered for 26 years well done. Kudos, Mom and Dad!
Aaron and I are suppose to be moving in together come this February. We found a place in Pilsen. Kimora suggested it to us, and the place is beautiful, and I am excited but I do have reservations now…. Not about moving in with Aaron but about the apartment. Utilities aren’t included and what I hear/what I fear is that gas is gonna bite us right in the ass. I hear gas could be and extra 300 bucks a month and in the art of trying to rationalize everything and trying to put everything in some sort of financial perspective, because I really do like the place but, I have to worry about the other necessities...i.e. furniture, DSL, American Express, the love card, and the all around economics of being able to maintain the place. I don’t wanna just live in a shell. This move is to help cure both of our issues with completing school . We thought that maybe if we were in the presence of someone with the same mindset; homework, finals, and studying—we could get shit done. But I'm begining to think I’mma need some rent assistance. I'm begining to think I need a second job…
FUCK the New Year!!!...I'm still mad!!
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Off on ThurdaY
The Christmas tree in the lobby of Jerome’s building?—looks like somebody new takes a gab at throwing up on it every night. It seems like every night I’ve come in late from work does the layer of tinsel get thicker and the ornaments get more obscure. Chords are everywhere, there’s this thick black electrical wire lagging from the ceiling to the tip of tree, I assume to keep it lit. The tree looks like it was decorated at gunpoint. Pitiful. And of course I still know about this eyesore of a tree because of course I’m still here ( I haven't been kicked out yet).
Mister WomiE-Baby and I are off today, and whereas we decided to spend this time together we didn’t anticipate on WomiE getting sick. I dubbed him the name Mister Baby because of how grouchy he gets when he's sick. There was gonna be sex last night. Today. Tomorrow. Plenty of sex. Sex, in an over abundance of. But now, because he's sick, HE’S gonna spend time on his side of the room as I’m gonna spend time on mine and the only time will we come together is when I decide to “cream” him so that he may drift off to sleep. He complained all last night on how all he wanted to do this morning was sleep, we bought NyQuil, we bought Theraflu, but what better a sleeping pill is there than being masturbated absolutely empty. So we dried each other out…
Not my idea of the type of night I wanted to have, But it was better than drinking the entire bottle of NyQuil. RomiE was out like a light.
Work last night was rather funky. We got two new temps last week, both women. The latest is four foot, eleven, wears her hair in an up-do, Stephanie Mills look-alike. Well, during her first couple of days, whereas I thought I didn’t like her, primarily because I thought she was too loud and too ghetto and she seemed perturbed by my very homo-electric personality at work—I spoke with her yesterday and though she’s still a little too urban she does have a sense of humor, so I can appreciate her a little more. The other lady feels like she’s been there forever; talks to everybody, laughs with everybody—just like family. But little miss Stephanie is slowly working her way up the ladder.
Work was funky because Yolanda is on vacation for the next two weeks. Yolanda is the lady I ride home with every night after work, either she drives or when her car isn’t available RomiE picks us up in my fathers truck and takes us both home. But she’s gone for two whole weeks, two entire weeks!!— and I’m already beginning to miss my ride-home buddy. Alas… Me, Yolanda, and Tinesha, one of the leads at work, were suppose to have dinner tonight at Cracker Barrel, in commemoration of us all being off, but then someone decided to move the Holiday Party to Thursday/tonight and so Tinesha decided to ditch us and switched out her day off to Friday! PunK! So Cracker Barrel is cancelled unless Yolanda wants to go without her.
Did I mention I hung out with my D-man yesterday and he drove me downtown where I walked and shopped more than my shoes and wallet cared toexercise??? Well I’ll get into that another time. WomiE’s up now, dragging his little sick self around the house. Maybe I could go put my mouth on ‘em.. Maybe he’ll go back to sleep…
Mister WomiE-Baby and I are off today, and whereas we decided to spend this time together we didn’t anticipate on WomiE getting sick. I dubbed him the name Mister Baby because of how grouchy he gets when he's sick. There was gonna be sex last night. Today. Tomorrow. Plenty of sex. Sex, in an over abundance of. But now, because he's sick, HE’S gonna spend time on his side of the room as I’m gonna spend time on mine and the only time will we come together is when I decide to “cream” him so that he may drift off to sleep. He complained all last night on how all he wanted to do this morning was sleep, we bought NyQuil, we bought Theraflu, but what better a sleeping pill is there than being masturbated absolutely empty. So we dried each other out…
Not my idea of the type of night I wanted to have, But it was better than drinking the entire bottle of NyQuil. RomiE was out like a light.
Work last night was rather funky. We got two new temps last week, both women. The latest is four foot, eleven, wears her hair in an up-do, Stephanie Mills look-alike. Well, during her first couple of days, whereas I thought I didn’t like her, primarily because I thought she was too loud and too ghetto and she seemed perturbed by my very homo-electric personality at work—I spoke with her yesterday and though she’s still a little too urban she does have a sense of humor, so I can appreciate her a little more. The other lady feels like she’s been there forever; talks to everybody, laughs with everybody—just like family. But little miss Stephanie is slowly working her way up the ladder.
Work was funky because Yolanda is on vacation for the next two weeks. Yolanda is the lady I ride home with every night after work, either she drives or when her car isn’t available RomiE picks us up in my fathers truck and takes us both home. But she’s gone for two whole weeks, two entire weeks!!— and I’m already beginning to miss my ride-home buddy. Alas… Me, Yolanda, and Tinesha, one of the leads at work, were suppose to have dinner tonight at Cracker Barrel, in commemoration of us all being off, but then someone decided to move the Holiday Party to Thursday/tonight and so Tinesha decided to ditch us and switched out her day off to Friday! PunK! So Cracker Barrel is cancelled unless Yolanda wants to go without her.
Did I mention I hung out with my D-man yesterday and he drove me downtown where I walked and shopped more than my shoes and wallet cared toexercise??? Well I’ll get into that another time. WomiE’s up now, dragging his little sick self around the house. Maybe I could go put my mouth on ‘em.. Maybe he’ll go back to sleep…
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Dear Jerome...
Doc Golightly: I love you Lula Mae.
Holly Golightly: I know you do, and that's just the trouble. It's the mistake you always made, Doc, trying to love a wild thing. You were always lugging home wild things. Once it was a hawk with a broken wing... and another time it was a full-grown wildcat with a broken leg. Remember?
Doc Golightly: Lula Mae there's something...
Holly Golightly: You musn't give your heart to a wild thing. The more you do, the stronger they get, until they're strong enough to run into the woods or fly into a tree. And then to a higher tree and then to the sky.
...Well I think my problem has been being too “grand” of a person to understand life isn’t about lilies or made up of sugar. I remember being told that my problem was that I couldn’t accept reality. That I lived disillusioned an until I woke up the world around me will come smashing down on my face. A part of me still holds steady to that list of all the things I think I wanna do, of all the places I think I wanna see, of all the people I think I wanna be with—I don’t feel comfortable with you knowing that there is a list. What’s gonna happen is that I’m going to do everything that I think I want to; break out on my own, be as raunchy and as merciless as in the snap of the word FaG, make all the wrong decisions for myself, do everything I think will make me whole and by the end of that journey feel as vacant as I began. On one side there’s the prospect of Ken and Jerome always being this unit I’ll measure the rest of my life with. I love you because I felt and feel most invincible with you…I love you because seldom to never did I look into my future and see anything that we couldn’t negotiate. What couldn’t Ken and WomiE do….???—stay together??? Its like I can’t turn the faucet off, baby. I never gave up. Never. I’m sitting here now, looking out your window, in the apartment that we planned on making our home, trying to figure out how t’fix it.
I think I make myself physically ill when I think about how negligent I’ve been; how I did this, how I was the one reckless, how I could be so bold as to stare in your face and trick my eyes to say nothing, hoping you knew nothing, thinking if I kept quiet long enough time would cure my sensation for wanting to be “22”. Box myself silent. Anchor down the Phoenix. But I am wild.
If there ever were a soul in the world that should wake up today apologetic—you won’t understand the magnitude to which I love you, Jerome—the amount of love?..is dizzying. I’d cut my wrist and bleed myself dead if I could fix it. All I wanna do it fix it. And now I’m thinking about our children, that we won’t have, or the home, that we won’t buy, and all the other ideas that’ll perish in the holocaust of not knowing what follows a separation. Don’t be nice to me, Jerome…I ruined us!! I think this woulda been easier had you yelled.
But I guess kindness does kill faster...
Holly Golightly: I know you do, and that's just the trouble. It's the mistake you always made, Doc, trying to love a wild thing. You were always lugging home wild things. Once it was a hawk with a broken wing... and another time it was a full-grown wildcat with a broken leg. Remember?
Doc Golightly: Lula Mae there's something...
Holly Golightly: You musn't give your heart to a wild thing. The more you do, the stronger they get, until they're strong enough to run into the woods or fly into a tree. And then to a higher tree and then to the sky.
...Well I think my problem has been being too “grand” of a person to understand life isn’t about lilies or made up of sugar. I remember being told that my problem was that I couldn’t accept reality. That I lived disillusioned an until I woke up the world around me will come smashing down on my face. A part of me still holds steady to that list of all the things I think I wanna do, of all the places I think I wanna see, of all the people I think I wanna be with—I don’t feel comfortable with you knowing that there is a list. What’s gonna happen is that I’m going to do everything that I think I want to; break out on my own, be as raunchy and as merciless as in the snap of the word FaG, make all the wrong decisions for myself, do everything I think will make me whole and by the end of that journey feel as vacant as I began. On one side there’s the prospect of Ken and Jerome always being this unit I’ll measure the rest of my life with. I love you because I felt and feel most invincible with you…I love you because seldom to never did I look into my future and see anything that we couldn’t negotiate. What couldn’t Ken and WomiE do….???—stay together??? Its like I can’t turn the faucet off, baby. I never gave up. Never. I’m sitting here now, looking out your window, in the apartment that we planned on making our home, trying to figure out how t’fix it.
I think I make myself physically ill when I think about how negligent I’ve been; how I did this, how I was the one reckless, how I could be so bold as to stare in your face and trick my eyes to say nothing, hoping you knew nothing, thinking if I kept quiet long enough time would cure my sensation for wanting to be “22”. Box myself silent. Anchor down the Phoenix. But I am wild.
If there ever were a soul in the world that should wake up today apologetic—you won’t understand the magnitude to which I love you, Jerome—the amount of love?..is dizzying. I’d cut my wrist and bleed myself dead if I could fix it. All I wanna do it fix it. And now I’m thinking about our children, that we won’t have, or the home, that we won’t buy, and all the other ideas that’ll perish in the holocaust of not knowing what follows a separation. Don’t be nice to me, Jerome…I ruined us!! I think this woulda been easier had you yelled.
But I guess kindness does kill faster...
Monday, December 18, 2006
And I'm Telling You!!!
WomiE: she look a HOT FOOLish MESS
WomiE: sounds great though
Moi: LoL
Moi: i like her hair
WomiE: no you dont baby, no you don't
Moi: LOL! I DO! I do like her hair! Watch how it shakes as she sings
WomiE: that is what I am doing. That is a FOOOOOOLLLLLL.
WomiE: ...and that face she is making... she is not attractive at ALL
Moi: she IS damnit! She just makes ugly faces when she sings, she's one of THOSE kind of singers
WomiE: That last part is Hilarious!!!!!!!!!
WomiE: she sucked all the oxygen out the room
Moi: LOL
Moi: she did
Moi: i thought she belched
WomiE: LMAO
WomiE: I am listening to it again
Moi: ok
YesS I'm StiLL CompLaiNinG!!!
There's actually been several revelations in my pathetic little life. First they finally got enough spunk in their steps to hire me at work. I now have medical coverage. School is out for another semester, and in a haste to fill up my class schedule, FOR the semester, already a week into the SUM of the semester, I wound up taking an ASL class, american sign language, Biology, a Film class, and a specialty writing course, Story and Journal, which translated into 3 projects, 4 papers, 1 presentation and 105 pages worth of written material for the fiction courses, and that doesn’t include exams. The film class???…doubled as an additional Fiction course, and I, of course, am a fiction writing major. If you can only imagine the woes. I got through with just about everything except the 105 pages. I think I might’ve stretched it to 80. But then again, who cares, semester ended.
It’ll be my luck someone tries to fail me, or worse, give me a C minus, WHICH, I found out by speaking with my Advisor, is like failing anyway because you don’t get graduation credit for the classes you recieve below a C in if the class is congruent with your major. Balderdash! So I'm a lackluster student?? So heads may have to role. But here’s my excuse….
Jerome and I have been on the verge of moving ALL semester. Apartments had to be viewed, calls had to be made, we spent several nights calculating our finances, we even went on spending diets, i.e, I had to give of Jamba Juice and he surrendered Starbucks. If anyone can relate to the stresses associated with having to move; finding the movers, gathering supplies, boxing your shit, letting SBC know where to reroute the services; I was burdened ALL semester LONG. Give me a break (WHICH is the bullshit I’mma tell my teachers, whence they try to fail me: Give me a BREAK). And not only did Jerome and I forge forth in pursuit of Love and the respect of loving, but going to work became taxing. There were several layoffs, a few people quit, a lot of temps got cancelled and before I could rub the dust outta my eye, our crew of 16 people got spliced in two and receding yet still. Talk about overtime. Days when I would normally get off no later than 10 in the evening, I’m lucky now to get off at 12 in the morning. AND DON’T Let there be another hostage/suicide-takeover situation happen in our building (did you hear about that???). I didn’t get off until 2 thirty Saturday morning having started work 4 o’clock Friday evening. The buses stop running, getting home becomes a concern and class is always less than eight hours away. Don’t you need 8 hours to sleep??? I digress. You can’t call off—I’m a new hire, I’m on probation until January 10th, there was no vacation time—they hired me too late in the year!! What am I suppose to do but go to work and go to school. I need assistance…I need to call Oprah.
So the move happened the weekend of Dec. 16th, this past weekend, which just so happened to be finals week AND the week everyone went on vacation at work. Here am I on Monday having survived it all, slept barely a wink and scheduled to be at work tonight. YaY to da Me!
I’m adjusting my major, I believe. I’m adding Marketing as a minor. I hear its gonna set me back and extra semester of schooling, which I figure to be okay provided I get what I need out of the program. I bought my camera, I bought my laptop, I finally saw Keith’s new apartment, Jerome and I broke up, I’m in the market for my own place, Kimora refuses to speak to me, Dreamgirls, starring Jennifer Hudson, will soon be out in theaters, I don’t wanna go to work tonight, I believe I’m in need of a shave.
Ciao!!!
It’ll be my luck someone tries to fail me, or worse, give me a C minus, WHICH, I found out by speaking with my Advisor, is like failing anyway because you don’t get graduation credit for the classes you recieve below a C in if the class is congruent with your major. Balderdash! So I'm a lackluster student?? So heads may have to role. But here’s my excuse….
Jerome and I have been on the verge of moving ALL semester. Apartments had to be viewed, calls had to be made, we spent several nights calculating our finances, we even went on spending diets, i.e, I had to give of Jamba Juice and he surrendered Starbucks. If anyone can relate to the stresses associated with having to move; finding the movers, gathering supplies, boxing your shit, letting SBC know where to reroute the services; I was burdened ALL semester LONG. Give me a break (WHICH is the bullshit I’mma tell my teachers, whence they try to fail me: Give me a BREAK). And not only did Jerome and I forge forth in pursuit of Love and the respect of loving, but going to work became taxing. There were several layoffs, a few people quit, a lot of temps got cancelled and before I could rub the dust outta my eye, our crew of 16 people got spliced in two and receding yet still. Talk about overtime. Days when I would normally get off no later than 10 in the evening, I’m lucky now to get off at 12 in the morning. AND DON’T Let there be another hostage/suicide-takeover situation happen in our building (did you hear about that???). I didn’t get off until 2 thirty Saturday morning having started work 4 o’clock Friday evening. The buses stop running, getting home becomes a concern and class is always less than eight hours away. Don’t you need 8 hours to sleep??? I digress. You can’t call off—I’m a new hire, I’m on probation until January 10th, there was no vacation time—they hired me too late in the year!! What am I suppose to do but go to work and go to school. I need assistance…I need to call Oprah.
So the move happened the weekend of Dec. 16th, this past weekend, which just so happened to be finals week AND the week everyone went on vacation at work. Here am I on Monday having survived it all, slept barely a wink and scheduled to be at work tonight. YaY to da Me!
I’m adjusting my major, I believe. I’m adding Marketing as a minor. I hear its gonna set me back and extra semester of schooling, which I figure to be okay provided I get what I need out of the program. I bought my camera, I bought my laptop, I finally saw Keith’s new apartment, Jerome and I broke up, I’m in the market for my own place, Kimora refuses to speak to me, Dreamgirls, starring Jennifer Hudson, will soon be out in theaters, I don’t wanna go to work tonight, I believe I’m in need of a shave.
Ciao!!!
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