Text message exchange after a night of light drinking with podcast producer friend, Quinto:
Me: I had 1.25 drinks last night and I feel like I had 3. Getting lame
Quinto: You begrudginly drank 1.25 drinks last night.
Me: Told you my body hasn't recovered from my bday week.
Me: I took 50 Cent's advice to heart that week.
Quinto: What was his advice?
Me: "Go, shawty, it's your birthday/ we gon' party like it's your birthday/ We gon' drink
Ba'cardi like it's your birthday" etc.
Quinto: Gonna pretend like you didn't write that and I didn't read it.
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Dance Partner Wanted
Recently went to my mom's ballroom dance recital at her studio. The studio is made up of singles and divorcees, couples old and young, and people from every walk of life.
I've never seen a more loving and intimate moment between two souls as I did when I watched the couples skip, shuffle, hustle, and fox trot across the dance floor.
So yea, dance partner wanted. Someone to tango, waltz, and paso double through life with.
I've never seen a more loving and intimate moment between two souls as I did when I watched the couples skip, shuffle, hustle, and fox trot across the dance floor.
So yea, dance partner wanted. Someone to tango, waltz, and paso double through life with.
That other, other moment
That moment when you see them together. They really are the perfect couple: loving, devoted, and compatible. She's gorgeous, you know this, and he couldn't be happier with any other soul on this earth, but still you yearn for what could never really be yours. That moment when, instead of accepting an unavoidable truth, that you are not the object of his heart's desire- that you could never take the place of his buxom beauty, in this moment of insecurity you jealously critique her appearance to salvage some sense of worth by saying, "Oh my God, Becky, look at her butt; it's sooo BIG!! I mean look at it; it's just so round and...out there!"
(The unofficial reason behind the opening of Sir Mix-a-lot's "I like big butts")
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Adele would understand
Rumor has it there is trouble in your paradise.
Just so you know, I wouldn't be picking up where she leaves off.
I would be taking you in a better direction.
Friday, March 15, 2013
The undeniably fearful moment
When you wonder if you're biggest, irrational insecurity is an unfortunate, undeniable truth.
Do they know something I don't know? Am I only m e d i o c r e?
Do they know something I don't know? Am I only m e d i o c r e?
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Upgrade.
In middle school, my schoolmates called me 'Pippi Long-stalking" because I always wore my hair in braids, wore glasses, and had a lanky frame.
The middle school students I tutor now call me 'Ms. Beyonce'.
Boom, puberty win.
The middle school students I tutor now call me 'Ms. Beyonce'.
Boom, puberty win.
Big Brown Eyes
I'm a volunteer tutor for a local middle school. It's a rowdy bunch of 6th graders from the city. They're good kids.
Today in the main room where study hall is held, two girls are chasing each other squealing and play-hitting each other. I draw the line when one almost falls while the other climbs across the furniture. I sound like any mom or teacher or adult authority you can remember from your earlier days. (I feel less down and more uptight.)
I think to myself, "this is better than birth control." as I rub my temples. The room quiets down when the school's director shows and apparently pulls the two girls aside and verbally reprimands them in the hall. I remain in the class room with my hands full.
Upon his return, the director kindly asks if I would go to the locker area for any stragglers as everyone, faculty and students, need to leave together.
I find one, she comes up to just below my shoulders. She's going to be tall in a few years, but for now she is still very much rockin' a baby face and a budding adolescent frame.
I look down to acknoweldge her, thinking she'll blow past me to join her friends in the other room, as I take a step in an opposing direction from where I thought she was going, only to have her change directing with me. I shift my weight back, thinking I am in her way, only to notice her take the same shift.
It dawns on me: she's following me. Her big brown eyes are fixed on my face. She's ringing her hands out of nervousness. Nervous not for any one specific reason, I'm sure, just nervous because she's in that awkward stage where life presents you with challenges (and school work) and you have to muscle your way through from childhood to adulthood while everything changes around you (and no one can explain why besides saying "that's life."). And those big brown eyes of hers are looking to me for a little guidance.
Because I have everything figured out. (And she's completely unaware of this blog.)
So with a smile (and a large sense of responsiblity), I ask her how's she's been since I haven't been able to speak to her since I started tutoring last month. She responds, still looking at me like I have the secrets to success and I'm just about to instill this knowledge in her developing mind. I slow my pace and keep up with hers. We walk together as I listen to what the person behind those big brown eyes has to say.
Today in the main room where study hall is held, two girls are chasing each other squealing and play-hitting each other. I draw the line when one almost falls while the other climbs across the furniture. I sound like any mom or teacher or adult authority you can remember from your earlier days. (I feel less down and more uptight.)
I think to myself, "this is better than birth control." as I rub my temples. The room quiets down when the school's director shows and apparently pulls the two girls aside and verbally reprimands them in the hall. I remain in the class room with my hands full.
Upon his return, the director kindly asks if I would go to the locker area for any stragglers as everyone, faculty and students, need to leave together.
I find one, she comes up to just below my shoulders. She's going to be tall in a few years, but for now she is still very much rockin' a baby face and a budding adolescent frame.
I look down to acknoweldge her, thinking she'll blow past me to join her friends in the other room, as I take a step in an opposing direction from where I thought she was going, only to have her change directing with me. I shift my weight back, thinking I am in her way, only to notice her take the same shift.
It dawns on me: she's following me. Her big brown eyes are fixed on my face. She's ringing her hands out of nervousness. Nervous not for any one specific reason, I'm sure, just nervous because she's in that awkward stage where life presents you with challenges (and school work) and you have to muscle your way through from childhood to adulthood while everything changes around you (and no one can explain why besides saying "that's life."). And those big brown eyes of hers are looking to me for a little guidance.
Because I have everything figured out. (And she's completely unaware of this blog.)
So with a smile (and a large sense of responsiblity), I ask her how's she's been since I haven't been able to speak to her since I started tutoring last month. She responds, still looking at me like I have the secrets to success and I'm just about to instill this knowledge in her developing mind. I slow my pace and keep up with hers. We walk together as I listen to what the person behind those big brown eyes has to say.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)