I’m reading the secret life of bees, and i got to part that involves a kiss and the feelings you get inside and love. I think of love often and the funny way it works. I think of myself in love – an idea that I can’t figure out if I’m scared of it or if I’m just really over it. I think of abstractly. I thought of it abstractly. Until last Sunday, when I learned that he was here.
This is my new little brother, I call him baby k. it’s crazy, I found out about him on sunday (even though he was born last tuesday), i got a picture of him on Monday and I fell in love with him exactly three seconds later. Every time I look at this picture (which is all day since it’s my blackberry background), I smile. That is love. That is something I haven’t been able to feel in a very long time.
Ours is not a traditional family. Every additional sibling is a total surprise. My father, as it turns out, is incredibly fertile, as are the women he chooses to date. Unlike my other siblings from my father, I have been expecting Baby K for a few months now. His mother is pretty stable, so I’m sure I can maintain a strong relationship with him. I wish I could say that was the case with my other siblings
especially her. My little sister. I have seen her only once, when she was born. I felt like this when she was born. Although I was much younger then, I couldn’t help but smile to look at her, to think of her, to dream of her.
And then she was gone. Due to circumstances out of her (and my) control, she was adopted. Her adoptive family left the country back in the 90′s and my father has not done the best job of keeping track of where she is.
I miss the tiny baby I met for a few moments. I wonder what kind of woman she is turning into. I wonder how she would look at Baby K. I’m sure she couldn’t keep herself from smiling.
do we have all these hood long-shot-under-dog movies to show white people we can make it out the hood, or to show people in the hood that there are other ways out?
Because I just can’t take it anymore.
The $150K on bad suits. And then saying that it couldn’t have been that much.
Her makeup artist being the highest paid McCain staffer?
Her dissing the interational research community by joking about research on fruit flies.
Her ignorance of what exactly the vice president does?
She can’t be for real. I refuse to believe it.
And while I’m talking about crazy, Ashley Todd. Where could I begin? Where would I stop. White people, when you fuck up, please stop blaming the black guy. It’s old.
Oh and McCain, tell your brother to bring it in.
for real? Is this requisite line of every black chick on reality shows?
Last night I watched the premiere of Real Chance of Love. Yes, the show is as terrible as its title and horrendous wardrobe. Who dresses theses guys?!
But please slip me the number of real’s hair dresser because I WISH my hair had that shine.
At any rate, the show is basically Flavor of Love (my fav) but with two clowns and too many angry women. The black women were so angry. The white women were so “color blind.” The show was absolutely ridiculous but one part struck me, the mandatory “I’m not here for friends” line that somehow turned into a really huge fight. It went like this.
White woman: We should be buddies.
Black woman: I’m not here for friends.
White woman: Ok *walks away*
Black woman immediately starts talking shit to other women about how the White women wanted to be friends. She threw in the “She’s here for the wrong thing, she’s not real” line and the others giggle.
White women: *over hearing this (because of course the Black woman was extra loud)* Are you talking about me?
Black woman (yelling): YES! I AM NOT HERE FOR FRIENDS!
Uhm, what in the world? Don’t believe me, watch it here. That was annoying. What was more disturbing to hear it in real life in my office yesterday. Someone was in my office and we were talking about the drama that is grad school and she told me she didn’t have any friends at school. She then named three women who are acquaintances and was really proud of her self.
“I’m not here for friends,” she said as she leaned back in here, a proud smile pasted on her face. [editor's note: edited b/c it was causing drama in my real life]
Ladies, lemme break something down for you. You need friends. You need friends at school, you need friends at work, you need friends in your life. I know this macho “I don’t need friends” bs makes you feel like you’re an independent woman, but for real, you sound foolish.
Why do you need friends? Well besides the fact that friends are awesome, they can benefit you. You can study with your friends at school. Friends at work can help you with your projects, they can keep you from putting your foot in your mouth at meetings. Friends at both can support you when people start acting crazy (it’s inevitable). I love friends.
If the friends at work and school aren’t awesome, perhaps you aren’t choosing them wisely. The office gossip, probably not the one you should be a bff with. The loud mouth who’s always playing people in class, while funny, is not the one that you want to share your insecurities with.
Choose wisely and please make some friends.
crossposted at SASSY
One of the projects the research center I’m employed at is working on the the evaluation of a noncustodial parent earned income tax credit in New York City. The way it works now, custodial parents (read: mothers) get a tax credit and noncustodial parents (read: fathers) don’t.
This experimental tax credit is geared towards low-income black fathers with child support orders. The goal is to incentivize paying child support, and is really a round about way of incentivizing legit work. Sounds good in principle but it’s really a mess. The cap to get the tax credit is something crazy small that you could only make if you didn’t work all year and if you don’t work all year, how can you be current on your child support. whomp.
Anyway the blow came because this great nation can’t get all it’s systems to work together and basically it was decided this tax credit could never go federal because the child support system is run by the states not the federal government and they didn’t think they’d be able to get both systems to work together to get the credit out to the men.
Another program for low-income, low-education, predominately men of color bites the dust.
I don’t know where I’m gonna go with this series but I have about three in mind.
When J was born, his parents were married and they lived in the suburbs. His father, who once had his shit together, was beginning to crumble. First he lost his job, then he turned to drinking, then he became an alcoholic. Or maybe he was one all along, it’s difficult to tell if he was a functioning alcoholing who lose control or if his binges were the result of depression from being another mouth to feed instead of the provider. At any rate, his drinking got out of control and J’s mom divorced him. Since she had been the sole bread winner, the family’s financial situation didn’t change when J’s dad moved out.
Because of her fear of his abusive and violent behavior when drunk, J’s mother moved the family and refused to tell J’s dad where they lived. She still took J to see his father very regularly and he grew up knowing his parents loved him. He went to Montessori, then public school, then charter school for middle school and finally independent schools for high school. Although J was popular, he never really had many friends. For sure he didn’t have one truly close best friend. Maybe that’s where the trouble starts?
As with most boys, J was a little troublesome. Although he annoyed his sister a lot and talked back under his breath, there wasn’t anything really remarkable about his behavior as a child. He was the baby and therefore was totally spoiled.
No one really noticed anything until he got to high school. Suddenly J was a thug. He was talking back, he got into fights and suddently he knew just a little too much about gangs. He confided in his sister that the bloods wanted him but she figured he was just a suburban kid trying to act tough and that nothing would come of it. Unfortuanately she could have been more wrong. While she was correct about him not joining because he didn’t want to get beat up, no one was clear how involved he was in this mess. Suddently he needed protection, so he hung with tough kids to protect himself. He still got into fights but it probably wasn’t as bad as it could have been. (more…)
Now I’m sure this isn’t the first time I’ve experienced sexism, but it’s the first time I’ve really noticed. I live with two men and my experiences with them, well one in particular, is driving my crazy. Men are men, and men are different than women. I get that. But dang, why are we so different. Why can’t we see eye to eye? Why am I the only one that can see the dirt in the house? I’m ranting.
At any rate, roommate-I-don’t-get-along-with (hereby known as wack guy) let the cat out. The cat came back with fleas. Roommate-I-do-get-along-with and I spend the weekend cleaning the house. Wack guy was out of town that weekend, as usual, so I sent him a little email asking him simply to swiffer the kitchen and sweep the stairs. And he says no. His reason? “The house was in that state when I moved in.” Uhm… actually when you moved in it was messy, not flea infested. This is one of the many power plays that we have, and that I lose. Whomp.
Anyway, it’s stressful and annoying to know the main reason someone isn’t taking you seriously is because of your sex. And prob my age too… blah. And what’s more annoying is that if my roommate that I do get along with would actually tell this guy to clean up, stop making our house smell like the club and in general, stop acting like a douche, he would change. That totally irks me.
I need this dude to stop acting crazy in my apartment and to pick up a broom.
I’ve decided, after a year of running myself ragged, that I need an untouchable day. That’s about as far as it’s gotten. All I know is that it is untouchable from work. I need this because my job is slowly but surely draining the life out of me and I just can’t take it anymore. I can always find a million reasons why I need to be working, but the reality is that, even though I work every single day, the work is never done. And with that, I need to step back and take some time for me.
This week almost killed me. With a chapter deadline at the beginning of the week and the GREs at the end, it was the worst week in a while. We turned the chapter in a day late and I totally crashed and burned on the GREs. What did working nonstop or weeks on end get me? It didn’t get that chapter in on time, although it is a really good chapter. And spending all my time working meant that I totally stopped studying for the GRE weeks ago. And while both activities are important for my grad school applications, I just can’t have that truly pathetic score reflect my standardized test taking abilities.
While I’m tempted to add “GRE studying” to my list of things I will not do on my untouchable day, I should prob just bite the bullet and dedicate an hour or two to remembers geometry (whomp).
So today is my untouchable day. I am going to go to Home Depot, like I’ve wanted to for weeks and watch the L word and eat pizza and take a nap and do whatever the hell else I want to do and not even think about work until tomorrow… or maybe even Moday.
that’s what all the books say at least.
that would prob explain why i can’t bring myself to write the lit review for the chapter. isn’t this supposed to be the easiest part? I need to stop being a punk and just bust this out. blah.
So the other day i went to lunch with a new coworker just to have “black girl” chat – you know how that goes when you’re the only two black girls here. Anyway it was normal stuff, you know office gossip and the like and then we started talking about her marriage. She met her husband approximately 11 months ago on the A train and she just felt this strong desire to talk to him. He felt the same. He is one of the hardest types of men to meet in NYC – he was actually looking to be in a relationship. So they dated and got married and then moved into together and now want to start a family.
She told me that she hasn’t been receiving a lot of support from our same age peers. People are surprised she wants to get pregnant. She’s married, almost done with grad school and wants to have 5 kids. She’d better get cracking now. People want her to wait until she gets older. Why? Because they think she should start her career and then have kids. To us, this isn’t the smartest move. Why would you wait until you have an established career and then risk it by taking off tons of time for maturnity leave. It’s makes sense to us to have the kids before there’s a career to worry about. For me, the ideal time would be while I’m writing my dissertation. Ok that was a sidebar.
So after we talked about kids, we talked about dating. It was a relief to meet someone who thinks the same way I do about dating. My definition of single is simple – you are not dating someone, you’re not in a commited relationship, you are single. For the past few years, I’ve been noticing that most of my peers don’t think that they way. They can be monogomous with one person for months but consider themselves single. They “date” many people and are still single. They will give someone everything but a title. To me, all these people are not single, but they consider themselves single. It confuses me. And having dated someone who’s idea of single was totally opposite of mine, I know that’s not the scene for e.
I never considered myself conservative, until I started dating. Whomp. My name is Eva and I am a conservative dater. And I am ok with that.