Asparagus Spears v. Asparagus Tips

In case you're in the dark about this title, it comes from one of Eddie Murphy's comedies, "Boomerang". Martin Lawrence's character is disappointed that the waitress called the vegetable accompanying his lunch of choice "Asparagus Spears". He announces that if they had been white, she would have called them "Asparagus tips". For him everything was racial, including the game of pool which was a rather intelligent analysis that, I have to say, was rather convincing.

But this blog is not actually about this movie. This Resurrection Sunday, I am reflecting on the state of this nation in which we live. We are currently in the grips of a very hostile crossroads where America can either take the high road that Dr. King once spoke about or wilt back into the dark ages of the American conscience that is forever blinded by race - forever seeing color first and the human being second. To begin, we are going to jump back a few years to the election of the very first Black President (African American President if you prefer) Barack Obama. Everyone was so proud of this moment for America. Picture it, November 4, 2008 everyone was glued to the television waiting to see if history would be made. IT WAS!!! And then half of America jumped back into the fifties and declared he was not a citizen, he could not be President...he caused the deficit, he caused this and failed to do that. People, he is the President of the United States, and yet, four years later, we are still hearing reports that someone have proven the "birth certificate was forged". Can we, as a nation, really not accept the fact that a natural citizen of this country, one who happens to be Black, can rise to to the role of President? Apparently not because deference fails to be shown. He is disrespected. He wanted to speak to the children of the United States and people actually kept their children home because God forbid this Black Man who went to Columbia University and Harvard Law School be allowed to speak to the children about the value of education. It's appalling that people can be so disrespectful. Just the other day I was listening to an Advertisement on a very conservative station that plays speakers such as Neal Boortz that spoke of how today's government won't be shown the same deference as was shown to the Kennedy Administration during the Cuban Missile Crisis where southern radio stations turned over their frequencies and blasted propaganda toward Cuba. The ad clearly says that this wouldn't happen today and played a clip of the Boortz saying the words "President" and "Obama" in the same sentence made him "throw up in his mouth". This ad is proof that we have done nothing but regress since the President no longer can expect the kind of deference afforded his station in the past simply because he is Black (oh and somewhere behind that you disagree with his politics). I personally disliked the G.W. Bush administration, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't show him respect as the now former President of the United States.

And are we really shocked that Hate Crimes happen still? That laws are skewed in ways that afford a defense to someone who has yet to be charged with a crime against which to assert that defense? Are we shocked that marches for equality and justice still have to happen? Just because there is a monument erected for one of our great Black Leaders does not suddenly mean we the veil of racism has been lifted and we are suddenly better than they were. Want proof? Read the tweets about the young Black girl playing Rue in The Hunger Games. It's disgusting. I have indeed read the book. She was Black!!!! But the tweets about this poor girl are so shameful. I have decided that this is merely an inability, on the part of the ignorant tweety-birds, to accept that they felt such compassion for the death of a young black girl - that it was actually possible that someone so good could be Black. I cried all over again for a young child whose performance has been darkened by the insane racism of readers who clearly blocked out the description of Rue as having dark brown skin and eyes. Did you think she was just very tanned? Are you serious? But this is indicative of the mindset of many people. Race is forever an issue because the nation was, unfortunately, built upon unfounded principles of superiority and stereotypes of the lascivious black woman and the black brute. Come on America! We can be so much greater than what we were; we can be stronger and wiser. I hope.

Can we escape this? Are we forever doomed to just hope for what will never be? And, based on the opening, it is not just a one sided sense that race is always an issue. Black people have stereotypes about White people. My former students are exhibit A of this; they couldn't believe that all White people aren't rich and mean and that I didn't grow up poor and in the projects. For them, that was reality, and it was hard to break the cycle. The character played by Martin Lawrence was convinced that White people were constantly oppressing him and engaging in mini-racist scenarios.

Sigh. I don't really know if I have a specific aim with this post. I just felt like talking a bit about racial issues, as I feel our country is on the precipice of dangerous times- a precipice we've been on before and leapt off of by making dumb choices. The situation in Florida with Trayvon Martin and George Zimmerman feels eerily like an issue that could spark off another series of riots, not just marches. Is Trayvon the next Latasha Harlins? George Zimmerman the next Soon Ja Du? Are we about to revisit the early 1990s? The climate is tense and people are poised and waiting. I simply pray the right decision is reached. I am afraid for this country if we can't ever get past the racial binary created in 1620 when the first slaves arrived on the shores of America. We have to let the hate die and find the nation resurrected in a new light and way of living.

Praying...and it's just another day for the girl next door.

Poetry Moment (all by me)

Say Something
there was so much more to say
and I let the moment slip away
And i was a coward.
I should have just said it all
and been done with it.
I hate carrying it around.
Trying to hold it down.
Trying to seem unaffected
while feeling rejected
subjected
to callous touch by soft hands
baby you are so in demand
and you answer every call
but one
but the one you will caress with words
that find no purchase in your actions
“I miss you too”
Burns my screen and my ears
But I don’t let any tears
Because you don’t mean
Those words to which I cleave
Those words which find me wide open
Pulling you deeper still
And you get more than your fill
You take everything
Leaving me void
Annoyed
Because I want to believe
That you aren’t the same deceiver
you deceived her
and I knew it, I watched it
I saw it and I allowed it
And I am her
Feelings and all
Rejecting and all
Affected and all
Being held down
Even when no one is around
By you
By words
By not saying anything

Clorox for the Soul
Writing to cleanse my soul
watch you float down the drain on suds
because I don't do duds
don't do lies and manipulation
but thank you for the elevation
for the sensation of washing a dead layer of life and choices away
so I can transcend you
when I step off this page
all that will be left is your filth
then I'll spray it with the clorox of my tears
and you'll be gone to the abyss where relationships go to die
alone.

Transcend
Everywhere I look I see you
and so I turn to God for eyes that can ignore those sights
and a heart that can withstand the aches
each second I waste takes me two hours to relive the mistakes
three to accept the goodness of you was just one side
flip the coin and find tales to which you put me to sleep
two for the deuce indeed
and I was blissfully deceived and dreamed of a mythical future
and so I turn to God who helps me see that He is the truth and the light
inseparably the alpha and omega of life
the only side of life that is worthy of my gaze
and no more seconds, minutes, hours, or days
will be wasted on fairy tales

Trends not to follow...

Greetings and Salutations from my usual study room. I was procrastinating with NewNew, Bend&Snap and Diplomatic Fashionista today and we ran across this disgusting trend on Facebook that must be addressed today. It is so appalling and gross - posting a picture of the pregnancy test to show that you are having a baby. You urinated on that and then waited 60 seconds and the first thing you wanted to do was take a picture when the second line appeared, or the space turned blue, or the words "pregnant". What is wrong with you nasty chicks? That is not "ratchet", it's gross. Simply stating that you are having a baby would be sufficient to put everyone on notice. No one needs to know that you went to the store and bought clear blue easy, brought it home, urinated on the stick after drinking two glasses of water, waited, and saw that. We can infer from a simple announcement that's you're pregnant that this might have happened. No need to show the world.
So anyone who is thinking about taking a pregnancy test, please Do. Not. Post. The. Test. just post the news. YUCK!!!! (by the way, NewNew de-friended two people behind this nasty madness. So if you halfway cherish half of your Facebook friends, don't do this. I will be following the footsteps of NewNew. Post a test, get de-friended because clearly we are not like-minded individuals)

Next...

Sending chain e-mails. I don't really think I need to elaborate, but this crap has been going on far too long. Just FYI, i delete them because it's obvious when it's a chain

And then...

Touching, without asking, the hair of natural women. Diplomatic and I were noting that people always want to touch our hair. It's just hair. Now I get it, you may to understand the Natural concept and the fact that all black people don't have the same kind of hair. And actually, that naturals can be really attractive and wild and sexy. But you don't need to touch it. I absolutely despise people who might have a mild association with me walking up and just touching my hair like I'm a dang dog. I am not. I am a woman. I have hair (ooh, surprise). And I think you need to keep your hands out of my hair. hair is a very intimate part of a woman's body. Unless I invite you to touch it, you ask and I feel like you don't have the plague on your fingers and give you permission to touch it, DON'T. Look and admire. Wish you had it. But don't touch it. Please and thank you.

that's all for right now from the girl next door. It's been just another day.

Just say no! to the sub-par replacement for Coca Cola

I'm a Georgia girl. I know I lived in New York (which I loved and fully intend to either end up there or have some massive apartment in The Dakota that i escape to on a whim) and I lived in New Orleans (which I HATED....i might nope, won't even dream of it) but one thing has always been constant. Coca Cola. I don't do pepsi. It is disgustingly sweet for no reason and it really bothers my heart that when I tell someone I want a Coke, that they might actually come back with the sub-par replacement. There is no replacement.
Which brings me to the atrocity that is Papa Johns serving pepsi products. That is just beyond unacceptable and whoever ruined Coca Cola's contract with them needs to be fired. WHY!!!!!! Groups at the law school have events and of course they order pizza (for the not-so-swift, this is because it feeds a lot of people for not a lot of money). Last week, I noticed that where there was typically Coca-cola, there was now the sub-par replacement. I immediately had a fit (on the inside) and refused to drink any of it. How disgusting! So I asked a friend of mine and he let me know that Papa Johns no longer serves Coke. BLASPHEMY!!! I object to this cruel and unusual punishment. And while it's absolutely funny that now, barely anyone drinks the beverages offered at these events because no one likes this crap, I would really like the school to just stop serving Papa Johns, or just keep a reserve of 2-liters of Coke products in a storage closet so that we don't have to be subjected to the pain of eating delicious pizza with the sub-par replacement. Coca-Cola Forever!!!! Down with sub-par!

Time Out

It's time for a time out. I'm placing myself in the corner so the I can get work done and stop letting myself get distracted. Now is not the time for people to start trying to enter my life. And it's certainly time for some people to get on out. So this law school thing has a two very hectic and stressful points: the week before a paper is due and the month leading into finals. We are in the month leading to finals and I really have to focus. This means that blazer boy has to be expelled from my mind. So long to you and your lies and manipulation and the good memories that taste sour to my delicate memory buds because you just couldn't be the good man you pretended to be. (release one)

And goodbye to Phat Farm, because I'm not taking on a project to teach a guy etiquette when on dates. I'm pretty sure I don't have time for any projects whatsoever. Either you come with batteries includes and all the key components already attached, or don't come at all. (I'll write an entire blog about Phat Farm in the future. But to get the gist, you could jump back a few days to What to Expect on Dates). (release two)

And goodbye to being even remotely concerned about the fact that no one is available to go abroad for my birthday. All I wanted was a trip to an island for my thirtieth birthday and so I can have an excuse to have on my bikini and lay in crystal clear waters. Perhaps I'll get married there and then I can convince people who said it was too expensive to come off the dime and go. (release 3)

So Time Out to all of that. It's time for this girl next door to get down to the business of not giving a * about everyone else and anything else. Ice Queen...maybe not. I'm just not built to be that cold. But certainly the cold shoulder is good enough. Time Out!

Study Schedules and the Quest for Personal Time

Well, it's April. It is really April. It is April. Sorry to keep repeating myself but it's like a scary realization that the first year of law school is nearing its end. Before I know it I'll be in New York working for the summer. Then it will be fall and the class grind will start again. Saturday was admitted students day and I was giving tours, not going on a tour. I was suddenly the expert. Can you believe it? Well, I guess you can because you don't know the type of craziness 1L year entails, but whatever.

It's April and I just made my psychotic study schedule meant to get me finished with outlining a week before the first final. I will be studying about 18 hours a day during reading week. Torts, Contracts, Civil Procedure, Property. Monday through Friday. Non stop starting today. (le sigh)

Sometimes I wonder where my life went. I used to go out on weekends religiously. I was at Bridge Lounge in New Orleans drinking my raspberry mojito and complaining about the kids and their antics. I was at La Phare dancing the night away on Saturday or eating dinner at ridiculously delicious restaurants. Friends were friends of different occupations and we'd sit around to complain and laugh and plan out what we were going to wear for Zulu Ball. And when I was in New York... so amazing that I can't talk about i or I might burst into tears. And now what? Now I get to hope I can steal five minutes to complain to myself about how sick I am of reading about Products Liability and determining whether a plaintiff can intervene. I lift my hands to the sky, pray, scream, curse myself for this torture I have signed up for. Then I'm good and it's back to studying. Or I call T and we'll rant for about fifteen minutes. But once again, it ends.

Weekends are really weekend except to say that I don't have class and will get to study nonstop from 7am to 7pm. Somewhere in there I grab food, more chai, perhaps an espresso.

And then it's the day of the final and it's truly some strange rush of adrenaline akin to fight or flight and we all decide to fight and claw our way through a three hour typing frenzy. Exciting!

But I do still long for my personal time. I can't wait until May 11 when it's all over and I can try and find my place on a beach somewhere wearing my white bikini and getting sun-kissed all over. I might actually finish reading Abraham Lincoln Vampire Hunter which is taking me a remarkable two months to get through despite how good it is.

Okay, I'm going on and on, unfocused. Perhaps I'm still suffering from the jitters of the four cups of coffee I had last night before bed which had me so wired that I couldn't sleep until around 1:30. I stole some personal time then. I did read some more of the book. I wrote in my journal. I wished for a glass of wine, though I gave up alcohol for lent so water had to suffice. This is what will happen during finals as well. Some late night will suddenly turn into the personal time I wished for earlier. It will be unplanned, haphazard, and seemingly unwelcome until I'm in the middle of it and finding the anxiety of law school slip from my shoulders.

And it will be just another day for the girl next door.

Soy Chai and my Love Hate relationship with Law School

Right now, I'm sitting in my favorite coffee shop, Starbucks. I love this place. The heaven of my dreams is a giant Starbucks where I can sit and enjoy a hot cup of Chai with Jesus and talk about everything. I know, it’s ironic that we would be drinking chai and not some really intricate, psychotic flavored coffee. I just prefer chai and so that’s what we will drink. I'm sure there's probably some website that can tell me what liking chai says about my personality. The fact that I get dog instead of regular or skim milk is probably an indicator of some self-righteous idea about health despite the fact that soy milk is likely just as fattening as regular milk. Starbucks actually using Vanilla soy in chai. Extra, extra fattening. But it's delicious, so that's what I'll drink with Jesus.

I love this place because it’s calm. I can sit in my corner of the room and study Torts without any trouble. People come in, grab their coffee, and suddenly all is right with the world. They sit down in comfy booths or chairs and pull out the Sunday Times, though I guess since this is Georgia they are pulling out the AJC, and just enjoy the world. This is where I’ll be on weekends from now on, more than likely. This is around the time that the library is just too stifling and the study room becomes an unproductive vortex of talking about everything but law school and how in the world we’re going to make it through this closed-book Civ Pro Exam.

For example, I ended up in two very long conversations about relationships on two different days this past week. Why? Well, because no one wants to accept the gravity of being five weeks away from finals. We’d rather talk about everything else, including our lack of a love life, dismal prospects of a getting a love life while in law school, and the ubiquitous “why do men cheat” issue.

oh yeah, I’m a law student now. I left teaching, the profession where everyone said “God Bless you” every time I said I was a teacher. Now, I’m entering a profession where everyone inherently thinks you’re a liar – a wolf in sheep’s clothing. And yes, there are those here. Blazer Boy is exhibit A. But that’s not important. So I’m in law school, and it feels like I drink more chai than the law should allow. This year has been hell on wheels. I feel like my emotions have gone up, come down, been flipped all around and then back again.

Somewhere in the midst of all of this, we get the work done. We accept that having been number one in every other arena is the elusive status reserved for one of the 250 of us and we move on. And in the back of my mind, I love it. I love the challenge. I love the anxiety. I love m professors. I love my classmates. But as with anything you love, it’s a very thin line between that and hate and I tend to fluctuate back and forth between the two, especially when I get called on.

But chai and Starbucks make it all better. Starbucks encased in a white cup with black scribble on it: Soy no water chai. And I can focus. I don’t worry about the gunner who seems to know it all and apparently did last semester given the scores. I don’t have to worry about the people who study 24 hours a day while my body gives out after about 16 hours. I get it done here and in my own space and time.

And it’s just another day for the girl next door. Drink Up.

What to expect when going on dates..

Hello World!

Today, I woke up thinking about dating. Dates are those fabulously awkward events that us girls get extra pretty for. We go through eight outfits. Fix our eye makeup five times, trying to recreate that perfect smoky eye, or the "natural" look. (I'm not quite sure your eyes can look natural with eyeshadow, but whatever.) Then you throw on some Flowerbomb for that amazing scent that all men seem to get caught up in. The men get us at our best. We're on our best behavior. We smell amazing, look amazing (more amazing than we did the first time you asked us out) and all is well for you. We work our way through a series of questions that we want answered and otherwise plan for a very stimulating evening where we'll come away thinking, he is the one Daddy always said I'd find. He'll treat me like a queen, make me laugh, make me smile, tell good jokes, and I'll learn about him as he learns about me. Yay!? right...?

But what can we, ladies, expect to get on dates...

Unfortunately it's not necessarily the same. Let's compare...What do we want? We want a guy who is going to open the door. Who doesn't force us to walk behind him like some well trained puppy. A man should always let a woman walk in front of him (why do you think we wear these expensive jeans that hug out asses just right?); but for real it's because it's a position of power for men and it makes you automatically viewed as a protector. can you stop the random guy from grabbing our hand when you are in front of us? NO, because you don't see it and the other guy knows you done effed and so he's going to now make his move. We also want men to be dressed well for the occasion. Here's a tip men: think about what you think we'll be wearing and then try to find the male equivalent. This does not ever include out of date fashion. Please, dear lord, do not put on the most busted pairs of shoes, or shirts advertising brands that people wore in the last century unless those brands are still popular. You get major strikes against you for this last one.

What else do we generally expect? Oh...conversation. What I've notice, though, is that with the advent of the cell phone and texting, people do not know how to have conversations without the buffer of an iPhone screen and predictive texts. Why can't we have conversations. Girls, at least if they are like me, are naturally inquisitive and talkative, but we don't want to be the only one talking. Nor do we want to feel like you have no desire to get to know us. Immediately, we can determine what you really want from you lack of conversation. SEX. And guess what you won't be getting if you can't manage a simple conversation over dinner? Sex (well, unless you're just that damn fine and all the girl wants from you is sex. Dinner at that point would just be a formality.) If you don't want to know about us, then we certainly don't want to know about you anymore and we are already plotting on the guy sitting over your shoulder at the bar who actually seems interested and keeps giving us the eye.

We also want your attention. If you spend the entire night thumbing through your phone, don't be surprised when we pull ours out and stop paying attention to you as well. That is a sign that the date is over. You have already been taken out of the running for anything beyond a check for the meal. Yes, we all have lives and have a million and one things going on, but if you can't put your phone up for an hour or so then you don't see the girl as worth your time and she will strike that off her list too. Put a fork in it; you're done. Check please!

Finally, Guys, if you somehow make it to date three, I truly feel it's okay to kiss the girl. Or at least try. No one wants a guy who is timid about just kissing the girl. Do we need the Little Mermaid music in the background or what? Ha, even if we did, most guys seem to be more prone to knocking the boat over without the aid of flotsam and jetsam. To not even try, guys, is like you signing your own death certificate. It's pretty much over. At this point, the girl is not only convinced you're just not that into her, she's also convinced she's just not that into you.

And people wonder how women get swept off their feet by assholes. Well, an asshole is apparently the last chivalrous species of men on the planet. They do everything right. They open doors. They get mad at you when you try to open the door. They talk to you about everything but sex. They want to know your family history, your likes and dislikes, your favorite color because, guess what, they are plotting on what color flowers to send the next day so that the chivalry and charm continues to woo us right out of our extra expensive La Perla couture panties that we only wear for "the one". Blazer Boy certainly was not the one, but he did his damnedest to prove he was at least for the time being. These days the one seems like a myth and everyone is looking for the perfect combination of Mr. Nice Guy and The Asshole. If you get the right combination of attributes then you have Mr. Right - you have the one.

So what does this mean... Who the hell knows. Perhaps that the entire male species is quickly ushering women to sperm banks to create children rather than wait around for the Mr. Nice Guy to figure out that you can't just be nice and have a job, you have to actually show some genuine interest and treat us like queens you respect. And perhaps it is really a commentary on the breakdown in our perceptions of relationships. Especially for Black men, just because you have a degree (or two or three) does not mean that a girl is lucky to have you - so much so that you feel you don't need to put your best foot forward. More likely than not, she has a degree (or two or three) under her belt as well. And, given the current state of things, she's not wedded to the idea that her husband has to be a black man anyway. So that just made the sea a whole lot bigger and full of options. She'll toss you back if you act like she should be lucky and don't recognize that you should feel lucky too.

But, this is just another day for the girl next door.

Reality Bites...

So, it's been a while - two years I believe - since I graced this site with my poetics lines about life, love, and pain. The Diplomatic Fashionista inspired me, and the loss of a good friend has prompted me to step out here again. Older and wiser and with so many things going on in my life, I have to take a second to pause and recognize how precious life is. As we all fumble around in the darkness, loving and laughing and crying, others are entering a light brighter than any ever spoken of because it is the light of God calling our loved ones home. My friend Sam was a beautiful person, so full of life and energy and man! could that girl SANG. But God called her home. My prayers and heart go out to her and her family. I knew that woman for almost fifteen years. She was a beautiful soul and I am glad to have known her at all. She spoke positivity and love into everyone.

So this brings me to the realization and topic for today.
Reality Bites my friends. But all we can do is accept it and love it for what it is and love all the people for who they are.

Sounds easier said than done. I have to remind myself of this often as I seem to keep tripping into very interesting relationships with guys who really just aren't worth the time of day. I found myself in this situation recently. We'll call him Blazer Boy. Said all the right things and I got all caught up in the yummy goodness. Turns out behind that well dressed facade, hid an asshole. Yes, a wolf in sheep's clothing had slipped into my yard created havoc and then got BUSTED in his lie and had to get told what he really was. What's so sad, is that the lie was completely unnecessary. He could have just told the truth. But he chose, and perhaps it was because he didn't want to lose me. But really, why do you think you get to make that decision, Blazer Boy? But that's okay. This is just proof that what happens in the dark comes to light. So you might as well tell the truth up front.

But my heart was broken nonetheless.

Reality Bites.

But we rebound, and that's what's beautiful about us humans. We can go through loss and horrible, heartbreaking relationships and emerge even better and even wiser. To Blazer Boy, I hope you pull yourself together and finally turn into the good man you purport to be. Or at least I hope you can be honest with yourself and the women you encounter. If you're a wolf, be a wolf.

To Samantha...you were a light in the life of everyone you knew. Continue to shine on us from heaven. We will continue to live beautifully and positively just for you.

Just Another Day
G.N.D.