Thursday, December 30, 2010

Is New Years Eve the New Valentine's Day?

The reason I ask is because of all the mayhem going on around here!



One of my friends wrote on their Facebook status today, "New Years stresses me out." One of my good friends sent me a bbm that said, "I'm not leaving the house." Another girlfriend of mine is sad because it's a holiday that reminds her that she is alone, like Valentine's Day. While quite a few others are beyond pumped about New Years! Sharing details about their cocktail dresses...locations, and fun-filled agenda for the evening!

[the chaos is vaguely familiar to Valentine's Day]

For me? New Years Eve has been consistently random every year for the past ten years. A couple of times I spent it with ex-boyfriends, other times at church with family, plenty of times with various friends, and in a couple cases doing absolutely nothing but sitting infront of a television wrapped in a blanket!

My first thought was to go out with a bang for Nye! By spending this evening out with my girlfriends, get super dolled up, drink lots and lots of liquor, wave my hands in the air like I just don't care, and then forget who I am the next afternoon. I made no mistake in saying 'afternoon' either.

HOLLA!

But now, I am not opposed to partaking in something a little more low-key. Partly, because Mama has to spend a small fortune on her car. And the idea of going to a more intimate house party with friends that I always have a good time with  is way more appealing, than freezing my tush off outside and spending all of my breakfast and lunch money for three weeks.

And no, I don't eat much anyway. But my normal serving of coffee, fruit, and whatever else is on sale at the grocery store still cost money!

The reason I am relating New Years Eve to Valentine's Day has to do with the fact that the last couple of Valentine's Days, I have received a couple of sympathy invitations from guy friends asking me, if I would like for them to take me out. Two years ago on Valentine's Day, my guy friend called me up, and said "Tanya, I'm taking you out! Get dressed, Woman!" And I said, "okay," in my lonely sad damsel in distress voice. Threw my party dress on and had a blast with him at dinner and the club with friends. Last Valentine's Day, I was sick with the flu and pathetic looking but still forced out the house for dinner by a guy friend. Still had a good time too, surprisingly.

And now? I feel like history is repeating itself with New Years Eve. I received three sympathy invitations this week. But there is no need for this because this is a fun holiday! And nobody has any reason to feel sick or sad. This be the reason right here, I sought out friends and a party to go to on Nye! We can't make ourselves a sad victim or a damsel.

What we should be worried about includes: Where we are going? With whom? Who's the designated driver? And if there isn't one. Who's couch, bed, or closet are you passing out in? That's it! Who cares about the dress? All you're going to do is spill cranberry vodka all over it, like I will on mine.

This is not a holiday for being alone and receiving sympathy invitations. It is a holiday for celebrating the new year through coonish behavior, busting a move on the dance floor, and then falling on your ass and ruining the dress that you purchased from Bloomingdales the prior week.

[cough cough]

There is one wish that I always have every New Years though. It is to celebrate New Years Eve with all of my favorite people under one roof. I cannot think of anything more exciting than partying with all of my favorites for one evening of debauchery! I swear that it would be like the best birthday party x 100!

I am an optimist too.

I will make this happen one of these years!

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Ciroc Smooth Talk with Diddy



Has anyone really listened to what this Damn Diddy says in any of these Ciroc commercials?

I am no Diddy fan but these commercials are hilarious! His PR people were clever in making him appear to be a funny human being because in real life, not only is he not funny but you can tell he has no sense of humor. The type of 'no sense of humor' that is partly due to the fact that he's not smart enough to get the joke.

I love how in one of these clips he says, "Ladies, open-toe shoes: make sure they fit. If your feet are hanging over the front....it means your feet are too big. And it scares me."

[laughing while shaking my head in shame]

Asshole.

I must defend the strong ladies all over the world who are guilty of wearing heels that do not fit their feet!

First of all, why do 'HER' feet have to be too big for her shoes? Why can't these shoes be too small for her feet? If she wears a size 6 in shoes, but was determined to wear those hot pink Betsy Johnson heels in size 5.5. She doesn't exactly have gigantic hobbit feet, now does she?? And who is to say, she didn't stuff her feet into those 5.5 heels because they were the only ones left in her size and they were 60% off at Saks? One must learn to understand the importance of bargain shopping, and whether or not your big toe hanging slightly out of the peep toe is worth the purchase of the heel.

In my opinion, any woman who is willing to endure pain for a pair of beautiful shoes that do not fit very well is a determined woman.

So back the fuck off, Diddy!

The second item to point out, Diddy looks like a well-groomed chimpanzee with a S-Curl and a visible overbite! Plus, he is always making that 'ah duh droppey face' expression. Who the hell is he to make fun of anyone?? Yes, he is worth a lot of money! But he is still ugly, and money can't make fix you if you're ugly. I despise ugly people who make fun of others. Where do they get the nerve? I really do believe that this is what happens to 3s (like Diddy) who walk around with 10s (like J.Lo) on their arms. They become delusional about who they are because of whom they associated themselves with over time.

The third matter to address, if Diddy is insinuating that a woman with big feet is a she-man, then he is just wrong! Especially, when there has been numerous rumors floating around for years that Diddy likes to hit up gay clubs and mess with boys. I'm pretty sure these boys have large feet too. He probably secretly likes to suck on men's big toes. He looks like a freak hoe!

My last comment on this shoe matter, since when did 'real' men pay attention to the shoes that women wear? That strikes me as a bit odd when I hear men crack on the way women dress. I don't know a lot of straight men who do this. But if men are making fun of a woman, it is usually because she looks certifiably crazy. I.e. - she looks pyschotic in the face or she is wearing something inappropriate for her large body frame. It has nothing to do with what she is wearing on her feet or how she is wearing them. Other than those possible scenarios, since when did men stare so intently at women's feet that they noticed her big toe hanging out of her shoe? An even more puzzling question than this one, since when did it stop a man from pursuing a woman?

Somebody tell me!

Who has ever heard a man say to his guy friends, "Oh, I'm not messing with Crystal. Did you see how her toes hung out of those stilettos? Oh, hell naw! I'm not taking those feet home with me tonight, nope."

Not me! From a straight man anyway.

That is all I have to say!

Sunday, December 26, 2010

Merry Christmas to All Over the World!



For those of you who do not celebrate Christmas, you are missing out! I would like to share with you the best parts about Christmas every year!

1) Decorating the Christmas tree with ornaments, but not popcorn because that's just tacky.
2) Baking cookies, peach cobbler, and red velvet cupcakes and then eating it all, when it's suppose to be for Santa!
3) Playing Christmas music without feeling like a cornball for playing it. Even though you know deep down inside that you are a cornball anyway.
4) Spending time with your family, or in my case: arguing and cracking jokes on each other because it has been 3 to 6 months since the last time, you got to crack on your family for their coonery.
5) Watching your family members' faces light up when they open your gifts, and then being pleasantly surprised when they actually have a gift for you, because you did not expect one.

Best feeling in the world!

Happy Holidays!!!!


Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Saturday, December 25, 2010

Why Megabus is a Mega-Not Ever Again

Maybe, it's me? But I always seem to run into trouble when traveling on public transportation. On the train, subway...and now bus, the Megabus.

[sighs]

Megabus and Bolt Bus are probably the most attractive buses to travel coach on because of their bright painted illustrations, cheap bus fares, and free wi-fi. The airfare ranges from $1 to $21. This be the reason right here, I hopped my skinny behind on one of them today. I'm attracted to bright colors, shiny objects, and anything that states that it is a dollar.

I'm one of the easiest consumers to target. There isn't a whole lot you have to do to convince me. I'm every salesperson's dream customer. All they have to do is tell me that my $200 jeans are excellent quality, won't shrink, and my booty looks extra fly and big in them, and I buy those suckers in bulk! I hate salespeople.

Back on subject!

I have yet to encounter a soul who has actually bought a ticket on any of these buses for a dollar. And to be honest, it makes me wonder how many tickets they sell for a $1. Is it only one per bus? You can't legally paint ads all over your bus about selling $1 tickets unless you do. So, maybe they give one or two tickets away on every bus for that price?

If anyone has gotten on one of these buses for a $1 please let me know and I will stop talking trash.

Til then...

I will start off with the vent cover that was falling down from the side into the aisle. It did strike me as a little odd. But listen, there were two open seats under it calling my name, so I plopped myself down in that window seat and put my pocketbook and coat in the other seat. I closed my eyes immediately and breathed a deep sigh of relief.

Three seconds later.

"Excuse me, can I sit here?" I opened my eyes and look up. Ugh! It was the same young guy I saw outside in line who tried to make eye contact. Young guys are so stupid though. If I didn't bother to acknowledge your eye contact, it means that I don't care to talk or sit next to you either. He continued to point to my things on the seat. I scanned the second level of the bus to see how many other seats were available, I counted five. Two that I knew for a fact didn't have any bags on them, unlike my seat.

"Sure," I say with absolutely no enthusiasm in my voice and an eye roll, he did not miss.

I knew how the rest of this bus ride would be the minute he sat down next to me, and I was deeply saddened.

Then I started to grow really angry too.

During my college years in Philadelphia, I came across the same situation every train ride home to Maryland. Random dudes who want to sit down next to you in a cart filled with open seats. Stare at you the whole time like they had no proper home training, make their presence known through loud and obnoxious behavior, and then harass you for your phone number.

This 'boo boo the fool' was the worst of them all though.

He had two duffle bags and bunch of frames that he put at the bottom of his feet. The coat he was wearing was large enough to hide a couple bombs, a large Mexican family, and me. But I was cool. I had a sharp metal nail filer and  a pair of tweezers in my pocketbook that could draw blood. Just in case, he wanted to kidnap me in that huge thing.

I felt like saying to him, "So, you want to sit next to me 'AND' invade my personal space with your mounds of shit? Oh. Now, I really can't stand you."

To top off invading my personal space, he smelled like fried rice and kept moving around in his seat. Just like a six year old. Then he started talking indirectly to me about what he needed to do when he got into New York, and I say 'indirectly' because he wasn't looking at me. Although it was clear that he wanted me to know all of his plans because of the level he raised his voice to, or maybe he's just one of  those (annoying) people that likes to hear themselves talk aloud.

I have no idea?

When he pulled out his iPod, shit didn't just hit the fan. It hit the moon!

He started off by rapping quietly. So, I turned my iPod on to block his non-rhyming ass out. Five minutes later, I noticed extremely cold air emerging from the hanging vent cover directly on me! After cursing myself for sitting in a seat with a hanging vent, I started to hear this guy over the music in my iPod. I turned it down for a moment and this fool was rapping some Juelz Santana song. AND, LOUD. When he realized that I was looking at him, he started moving his arms around like he was dancing! So, I say to him, "Can you be quiet, please? You're a little loud." Then he says, "Oh, I'm loud?! Sorry. This my joint! Juelz Santanaaaaa!"

"Uh, huh. Now, shut the fuck up! Please," is what I was thinking in my mind but never said.

He continued to rap louder than ever for about fifteen more minutes, while watching me text on my phone. Made a comment about my phone being orange...and that was it! There was just too much dialogue going on here. I asked him to please let me out of the seat. "Oh, you need to get up?"

I shook my head and thought, "Yes, Dum Dum! Why else would I be standing here asking you to move?" Of course, it took him four minutes too long to move himself, his ten pound coat, and his mounds of shit out of my pathway too.

I went to the first level of the bus, found a nice seat with no occupants, and thanked God for leaving me an open space on that bus before history repeated itself.

The moral of the story: Retta needs to stay off of Megabus and Amtrak. Period!

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Type A Personality: Egotist

This is what I learned today.

The hard way.

Type A Personalities are some of the craziest individuals on this earth. If you suspect anyone you are growing close to of having a Type A Personality, do yourself a favor and run as fast as you can the other way.

FAST!

I am starting to believe that fast is an acronym and what it really means is:

F - uck
A - ssholes
S - hit
T - ime to go!

I found a bit of information on Type A Personalities, so everyone can identify the signs and run fast before it is too late.

When individuals are faced with feelings of frustration or insecurity, they may become depressed. Or they may transform themselves into a Type A Personality. This transition into a Type A Personality is a conscientious effort to deal with their insecurities rather than ignore them. The worse case, they are both depressed and have a Type A personality. They are known for being perfectionist and control freaks who need to maintain a level of perfection that does not exist. They need timelines and schedules to maintain order. They possess low self-esteem that makes them over strive and compete with others. Or even worse, they tend to overcompensate in a way that forces them to swing to polar opposites to cope. They often alienate themselves when confronted with conflict with others. They may deny emotion or not know they have any emotion at all. They tend to have high stress levels. They can engage in episodes in which they launch an attack on themselves or others because of insecurities or lack of control. They can appear rigid or tense, uncomfortable, or expressionless. They tend to be bat-shit crazy because of something traumatic from childhood. They are most comfortable when surrounded by chaos and drama. And last, they must receive attention, regardless of it being positive or negative for their own selfish needs.

[Okay, everything up to the bat-shit crazy part is true. But I do know two Type As that possess the additional traits I mentioned.]

Unfortunately, I had the pleasure of dealing directly with one for seventeen years and the other for six months. I wish it was zero months and years, but sometimes in life there's just no way of avoiding these people. I will take full responsibility in my engagement with one of them though. I should have never involved myself with anyone with a dark cloud above them and a laundry list of problems. And, I should not have assumed anything about them to be a fact, unless I asked.

When I spoke to a friend yesterday about a Type A that he dated for several months. What I realized from our conversation; although these Type As are impossible human beings, they will be fine. As long as one Type A can find another Type A to build a union filled with calendars and Zoloft pills, it is possible for them to coexist peacefully.

There has to be someone for everyone in this world. I firmly believe this.

My advice to you, especially if you are laid-back, easy going, and a happy person. Do yourself a favor and stay away from these people! They will do you no good, and you will never understand them. And mainly, because they are crazy. Also keep in mind, you are not a doctor and you didn't attend medical school to understand them (my sister told me this last line and she's right).

So!

Remember, say no to Type A Personalities! If you are a Type A Personality, God bless you!

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Unisexual

A man asked my girlfriend yesterday if her white ceramic watch was unisexual.

Um, huh?

This word is a quota!

I could have sworn that anything pertaining to the word 'sexual' had to do with a close intimate proximity to someone. Not neccesarily sex, but more like exuding chemistry.

So, why would this fool think asking somebody if their watch was unisexual would make any logical sense?

In the case that it was a real word, wouldn't it be like asking someone if there watch will provoke sexual feelings from both men and women?

A watch.

Not a mini-dress, bikini, muscle shirt, or a speedo.

I repeat, a watch.

If his intention was to make unisexual a word. It is an epic fail in my book.

Now, this is a man we are talking about here. No offense to men. But he probably wanted to say something clever and witty to my friend because she is attractive!

Unfortunately for him, she was not impressed because it was neither clever or witty.

And to be frank, most women aren't keen on men making up fake words and throwing them in the air, like you just don't care!

Her 'incident' made me think of one of mine with a comedian that I went on one date with in Philly. He told me that he had seven kids and was fertulous! So, I better be ready for him. I nearly choked to death on my food when he said that to me!

It was like the date from hell x 9!

To this day, I wonder if he meant to say fortuitous instead of fertulous? But I decided during dinner that I was not sticking around long to find out the answer.

At one point, I considered a move to Texas. Then I learned that I would make a whooping $3.85 a day teaching and heard the crazy stories my girlfriend tells me about the men there. I decided Texas is out!

Sorry girl, you know I love you. But this whole unisexual thing did it for me!

On an ending note: ladies stay away from slick talkers! They are no good.

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Say What Again?

I decided today there is nothing more entertaining than being blown away by the things children say!

Today a second grader showed me a 'book' she created. It was composed of ripped out coloring sheets with her name written in crayon on the top of each sheet. I said to her, "Tabitha, your book is so so beautiful! I love all of the colors that you used on each sheet too. You will be a good author one day! What's the name of your book?

Tabitha smiles at me, then replies, "The Tabitha Vagina."

Um.

[you just don't understand what this did to me]

I bent down closer to her, and asked her to repeat it. I have a hard time hearing when there is a lot of noise in a room due to my ADD. I just heard her incorrectly. I asked again, "What's the name of it?" Again, she says, "The Tabitha Vagina." I asked her one more time and she said it again! Then gave me a look like, damn girl. I guess you're too immature to handle this. Last time I ever tell you anything!

I am still sitting here blown.

Then a couple days ago, two fifth graders got into a verbal altercation. All I heard was, "Oh, yeah? Well, that's why you look like, Yo Gabba Gabba!" The little girl yelled, "whatever!" Then bursted into tears shortly after walking away.

I'm sorry but I laughed. Who calls people, Yo Gabba Gabba? It was too funny, not to laugh. I turned to the wall to laugh for a good 25 seconds after consoling her and reprimanding him.

I had no idea who this Yo Gabba Gabba person was at all? But I could tell by his name, he was visually outrageous.

Later that day I searched the web and found this:




Guess which one is Yo Gabba Gabba? If you guessed the crazy looking human with the bifocals, orange cat suit and furry grandma hat on, then you guessed correctly.

I can completely understand why she cried now. You could have called me any of those funny-looking creatures behind him, and I would  not have blinked an eye. They aren't human and nothing about them resembles me. But call me this black man who looks like he belongs in a psychiatric ward, and I will start crying too.

I look forward to seeing these kids everyday. I am constantly learning something new and crazy from them.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Hey Barbie, Can You Do This?


"Of course not! You don't wear lace front wigs, like I do. Girl!"

If you're wondering if the doll above is really being sold. Yes is the answer, you weren't ready to hear.

My sister bought this exact one for her friend's daughter and gave it to the poor child at her birthday party yesterday. Smh! She is a quota for buying this too.
And, you don't have to say it! I'll do it for you. This doll is pretty crazy and amazing all at the same time. 

I know.

This bald headed beauty is part of a set of five called Liv Dolls. These dolls have a proportionate size body for a doll, glass-like eyes, can pose in different positions, stand on their own, and of course...

Wear lace front wigs!

I literally gasped for air when my sister pulled this doll out of her shopping bag on Sunday.

I was not ready. I mean, when I was a child. I was subjected to stale ass Barbie with her -4 size waist, ballerina arched feet, cheap hooker clothes, and expressionless 'Stepford Wife' face. 

Oh, how times have changed.  

Each Liv doll comes with two wigs of different styles. But get this, you can also buy additional accessories (two lace front wigs and more clothing) in the accessory package they sell separately. Oh, and the lace front wigs come in regular styles and colors (blond, brown, black), and funky colors and styles like purple too.

[excuse me, while I laugh for a moment]

The Liv doll above is Alexis, and although she looks like a replica of Matel's Beyonce Barbie. She is much more three dimensional, just like the other Liv Dolls. Alexis is into fashion and loves to help her other girlfriends look their best. She has a natural page boy haircut that is actually pretty cute, and she loves changing up her 'hairstyles' also known as wigs throughout the week. 

[giving you the side eye]

She comes with the wig she is holding up in the air and another dark colored one that is short and curly. I also peeped the brown bag that she came with in the box. 

Um...why does it resemble a Fendi Spy bag?

I don't know how to feel about this doll. I almost want to say that it is a little too real. And, I'm not sure that selling a doll with interchangeable wigs is a positive message to send out to young girls. Don't pretend like you can't see the coonery in selling a doll that wears wigs, because I know you do. But I won't even go there. We already know it's wrong. I know me, and I would never buy this doll for my daughter. And only, because I believe dolls like these perpetuate ideas of what you are suppose to look like and do. I would rather buy my daughter a Cabbage Patch Doll, tell her to name it, and then allow her to create an identity of her own for her doll.

But at the same time, I do like the fact that they all have page boy haircuts because that is a first for a doll. I also like that they aren't 'Stepford Wife' dolls like Barbie. From the descriptions I found on them, they possess distinctive personalities. They describe the Liv Doll Katie as a tomboy who likes to skateboard and ride Bmx bikes. The Liv Doll Sophie is a hairstylist who is into fashion just like Alexis. The Liv Doll Hayden loves animals and works at an animal shelter, while the Liv Doll Daniela is an aspiring superstar who plays the drums and guitar in a band.

They sound just like characters out of the book series, The Babysitters Club Books. I read them in the fourth and fifth grade and appreciated the difference in each of their personalities.

I don't know?

Maybe, I am being too judgemental. It is just a doll. But aren't dolls like these, just the beginning of little girls formulating ideas of what they should look like in their head?

Just saying.

Monday, December 13, 2010

Quota!

Many of you have heard me say this word on many an a occasion. You probably even asked me after hollering the word out of nowhere, "Retta, what in the hell is quota suppose to mean?" 
Let me explain. But first, understand that me hollering the word wasn't out of nowhere. It is simply a reaction to the foolishness that I was subjected to moments before saying it.

We all know that the generic meaning of quota has to do with apportionment and allotment, yeah.

But do you know the real meaning? The raw 'street' version of it?

Allow me to break it down to you!

Quota - (noun) 1. to reach the maximum allowable amount of buffoonery. 2. to exceed coon-like behavior. 3. to strive above and beyond the normal level of shenanigans. 4. to take buffoonery and coonery to an unheard of level of dramatics.

Make sense now?

So, if I am forced by my sister to follow a midget into the elevator to get a picture of him in his leprechaun suit in Vegas. [this situation is a quota, a major one]

When this midget gives my friend the death stare in the elevator because she asks him if he just got off work. [the midget is not on quota, my friend is on quota]

If the midget decided to attack my friend for asking a stupid question. [the midget is on quota for his actions, but we were the quota for following him into the elevator.] 

One more example.

If a third grader tells me that his little brother demanded that he choke him to death last night before bedtime, and his response is, "No...I hate you, but I don't hate you that much." [the third grader is on quota, but his little brother is a quota for saying something more outlandish than his older brother]

Note: the difference between 'Person A' being a quota versus 'Person B' being on quota in both stories. Being a quota is far worse than being on quota. When you are 'on' quota, you only display coon-like behavior. However, if you 'are' a quota. You are the coon-like behavior. 

So, as you can see from these descriptions. Labeling something or someone as a quota is just an easy quick way to identify buffoonery in a kind way.

This concludes my lesson for the day. 

Please do you part as a law-abiding citizen in avoiding all quotas in the future.

Thank You!

Friday, December 10, 2010

Oh, That Feeling!

Did you ever get that feeling that you're going to do something big one day? I mean really big?

This feeling existed to me ever since I was 11 years old.

I decided as a child that this feeling was something, I was suppose to wait for to happen. Kind of like a snow storm, you know will happen eventually because of the signs indicated by the climate.

As I approached my sophomore year of college. I decided that I was being egotistical all this time because I had a family that pumped my head up with gas, not air. I told myself, 'well, nothing that great really happened to me in high school to think anything big would happen. Coming here to art school doesn't feel like a big deal either, especially since I hate this fucking place. Probably just dreaming big because I was taught to do it.'

What I realize now is that it was never about me waiting for something big to happen to me. It is more about waiting for me to grow a pair of balls to make 'it' happen.

It meaning very specific dreams of mine that I put in the back of my mind because I felt they were unsafe, unattainable, and unrealistic to achieve.

Well, this feeling is back once again. Only it's waiting on me this time, not the other way around.

I know what I have to do now, but I am scared as hell. I hate being outside of my comfort zone. Plus, I have seen too much at a young age, not to be afraid of failing.

On the positive side: I do feel empowered about my current decisions, because I am ultimately the one who is in control of shaping my future as I see fit.

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

The Cooneryville in the Numbers Game

I just have one question!

Why is every single black face on my Facebook profile playing that stupid numbers game? Along with maybe one or two of my white friends. But as far as I'm concerned they don't count.

I mean why? Seriously. It makes no sense at all and it's filled with tons of coonery! And why can't we say these questions to each other in private? Why do we have to post it on our damn wall for everybody to see?

I am a person who is filled with questions, and you best believe that when I'm ready to ask you one of them. It won't be in your inbox...it might be in a text or email, and your lucky if it's not your face. I know that I can be a bit confrontational.

I'm guess it's some sort of cultural thing, where we feel at ease saying anything out of our mouths? Maybe, because we were brought up to be these strong-minded individuals who had to learn how to deal with adversity at a young age...I get it!

But don't we go too far sometimes?

Especially, when we air out our dirty laundry through a damn numbers game 'trying' to keep it real. Everybody already knows we know how to keep it real! If you look at your Facebook posts, compared to others....they are probably 70% more outspoken than most on Facebook.

In my opinion, that speaks volumes!

Maybe, it's not even all about keeping it real. It sounds more about our egos. Which in turn makes me wonder about our self-esteem. We are asking each other all these questions, like we need to hear something good about ourselves. And from specific people too, like these people's damn opinions define us.

I know that I am guilty as well. I'll be the first one on Facebook blasting someone, because of some coon-like behavior or funny story! I am just as bad, I know. But I'll be damned if I ask you what you think of me, like you're the Dalai Lama!

Friends' opinions do not define us, we define us.

Saturday, December 4, 2010

Rambling in a Run-on

"Im sorry that you fell in love with the wrong person because I don't love you. Im sorry to tell you this, it's that everything happened too quickly and you felt for me but I didn't fall for you. I wish you would forgive me because Im in pain, but I never meant to hurt you it was all a game. I tried telling you but you wouldn't listen, I tried to like you but then he arrived in my life and he changed everything, I know it's too late to apologize but things happen and I couldn't take a step back, he is and will be the love of my life. Im sorry but Im moving along, Im sorry if I hurt you, but in that time I was heartbroken he had broken my heart once again, and then you were there the one who told me you could lean on me, the one who took care of me when I was hurt, the one that catches every tear I drop, the one I wish will forgive me because I know I did wrong, and I know your love was strong, but when it's not meant to be there's nothing we can do because we were blinded from the start, so if you ever love someone never change them for a person you kinda like or kinda feel something for them because sooner or later you will regret it and I know because I have gone through it because now that person that I loved doesn't love me backand doesn't even talk to me because I played him real bad."

When I was browsing through poems this morning looking for someone to express how I feel right now. I found this very intimate letter. I know it's a complete run-on sentence, but I got so caught up in feeling sorry too; I didn't even notice the grammatical errors until now.

After reading this letter, I'm sorry anyone could be this sorry.

Regret is worse than a bitch, but as my sis would say, "eat up!" Or in other words, deal with it.

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Friday, December 3, 2010

Did Morris Rosenfeld Hold My Mind Hostage?

I lift mine eyes against the sky,
The clouds are weeping,
so am I.
I lift mine eyes again on high,
The sun is smiling,
so am I.
Why do I smile?
Why do I weep?
I do not know
it lies too deep.
I hear the winds of autumn sigh,
They break my heart,
they make me cry.
I hear the birds of lovely spring,
My hopes revive,
I help them sing.
Why do I sing?
Why do I cry?
It lies so deep,
I know not why.


Every now and then, I come across poems like these. I always wonder what the poet went through to express exactly how I feel. Could it have been the same exact experience? Or is it just our minds verbalizing words in the same pattern? With not a fucking clue to the real meaning of it.

Kind of how we pretend to understand and feel what people say to us, but never do. Or maybe we understand a little?

It's hard to tell when words are open to interpretation.