Things We Don't Apologize For: Speaking Well

My last post was my 200th post. Slow clap for me! :)

Continuing on in our "Things We Don't Apologize For" series...

Yesterday: Never apologize for pursuing what makes you happy. Even if you need to quit your job, transfer schools, or move across country, always do what you really want.
Today: Never apologize for using proper English. Keeping it real doesn't mean speaking Ebonics.

Two years ago, I wrote a post called "I'm unique...just like everyone else." In it, I said:

I've been accused of "acting white" a lot over the years. We won't go into the whole debate on what it is to "act white" or "act black" they're both stupid terminology and I wish our society didn't condone the use of them. Anyway, what it usually boils down to is education level. I've pretty much always gone to predominantly white schools and I've been blessed enough to have also obtained some of the best education a person can get. People look at you differently when they find out you go to a private school. In high school I would avoid telling people what school I went to until I felt like they had a chance to get to know me.

Though I've been told I "talk white" or "act white" and even called "an oreo" for the most part in high school I was insulated from that stuff. I went to school with black students just like me, as far as academic abilities and intellect. I was surprised to get to college and find that suddenly, the same black folks I'd gone to high school with "felt some type of way" about the way I spoke. Suddenly, I wasn't black enough for my fellow private school educated black friends...

I've never spoken any differently than I do now. There are some words I use, like "buggy" that are very much Southern (and even regionally Southern) words. There are some phrases I use freely like "get it in" that are very much "urban" phrases and sayings. But my pattern of speech, the cadence with which I speak and my diction have always been the same: slightly influenced by both where I grew up and my culture, but mostly based on how those around me spoke.

I don't know how my mom grew up in west Alabama and never developed a stereotypical Southern accent, but she didn't. As a result, though I lived all my life below the Mason Dixon line, I (apparently) only have an accent when I'm drunk. Sometimes when I'm back home visiting my mom, I meet a new person who will ask me "where are you from?" and when I reply, they always look shocked and some even further question "did you grow up here?" the shocked look only becomes more obvious when I say "yes."

One thing I had to learn about people who will use how well you speak, against you is that that's their problem. Seriously. They have some insecurity that isn't your fault or your issue to deal with. Consistently I've discovered, either purposefully or by happenstance, that each and every person who has ever told me I was acting white or called me an oreo or otherwise tried to suggest something was wrong with me because I don't drop whole parts of my words (unless for dramatic effect or because I'm in that mood) did so because I made them uncomfortable and instead of addressing whatever it is about them that they felt was lacking, they pushed their issues back on me. I will never apologize for someone else's issues.

If I start making apologies for how I speak, I'm making apologies for where I grew up, for the effect of my mother's pattern of speech, for the care my teachers throughout the years took to ensure I understood and practiced appropriate English. To apologize for my speech is to apologize for many things I have no control over but have all worked towards my own betterment.

Having said all that, I don't apologize for speaking correctly not because I'm always cognizant of that very philosophical and feel-good thought, but rather because I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry that I don't have an accent (b'cept when I'm drunk); I'm not sorry that I know how to say things in accordance with commonly accepted pronunciation rules; I'm not sorry that I'm well read and well versed; I'm not sorry for being well aware that these skills and this knowledge base has served me well over the years. I'm not sorry at all, not one bit.

In high school, I ran for an elected office every year. I ran for 9th grade class President and accepted the loss because I was the new kid. I ran for 10th grade class President and would've coasted through, except 2 kids I asked to sign my petition decided to run and one of them won. I ran for 11th grade class President and lost because (sadly) my competition's mom died in a car accident shortly before the elections (it was later determined she committed suicide by purposefully driving into oncoming traffic). Every year I ran for an office and lost, I always thought to myself, if they made us debate, if they let me give a speech, I would win. The only offices that required speeches were student council President and Vice-President so I ran for one.

The students I was running against were all relatively popular and all had a VERY good chance of winning. Somehow, it broke down so that there were 3 guys running for President and 3 girls running for VP. 2 weeks before the election, 2 of the guys and 2 of the girls paired up and decided to "run together" (this had never happened before). I suddenly wasn't just competing against 2 other girls who I figured I was comparable with in terms of popularity but I was ALSO competing against 2 guys who were very popular and I had to figure out what to do about being automatically associated with the 3rd guy who -- bless his heart -- just wasn't going to win.

The week of the elections, one set of nominees showed up to school with water bottles and the other set, frisbees. Each item had the names of the respective team on them. That had never been done before either and I had nothing to fight back with. I had neither the money or the time to produce such a gimmick. I'll never forget my then-best friend looking me in the eye and saying, "I don't think you're going to win..." (in hindsight, she was a hater and let her insecurities leak out into my space). I realized then that I had only one shot to win this thing and that was with my speech. I had always intended to make it a bangin' speech, but I KNEW I had to put my foot in it.

I incorporated both of the shocking developments -- the "teaming up" and the frisbees and water bottles -- into my speech. I took 2 deep breaths at the podium and then lit it up. If I had known who Barack Obama was, at that time, I'm sure I would've later compared it to his rhetoric abilities (in my hubris). My fellow students applauded and since I was the last speech, the special assembly let out and the voting began.

Voting continued all day and I tried not to think about it. That night, I anxiously awaited a phone call from the then-Student Council president letting me know I had won but it never came. I showed up to school the next day hoping that I had at least gotten a significant number of votes and preparing myself to run for 12th grade class president. As I walked towards our student center, I noticed people smiling at me and then my fellow classmates began congratulating me. "What?" I thought. I turned on my heels and headed to the library. I checked my e-mail and the daily announcements were congratulating me! I had won!

I can tell you that whatever it is I would gain by altering the way I speak (as some people I know do regularly) it doesn't compare to what I know I've gained by speaking well. Oh and don't get it twisted -- I can code switch with the best of them, but I'm not permanently altering the way I speak just because speaking well makes some people uncomfortable.

So -- apologizing for using proper English? We off that.

Tomorrow: Never apologize for giving your best in a relationship that just didn't work out.

Things We Don't Apologize For - Being Happy

I was going through some old e-mails yesterday and stumbled across one I had saved. It listed 25 things a black woman should never apologize for. I think they're things no one should apologize for and so I want to share them with you plus my own commentary.

The first one...

Never apologize for pursuing what makes you happy. Even if you need to quit your job, transfer schools, or move across country, always do what you really want.

There's a story I tell frequently when I discuss why I'm ready to go back to grad school. When I was 14 and in the 9th grade, my mother quit her job at a fairly stable snack cake company to go back to school. Everyone thought she was crazy. How would she afford my schooling? How would she afford her mortgage? Bills? What in the world, they wondered, was she thinking?

During that time, my mother told me that when she graduated from high school she had dreams of becoming a model. My mom could have(hell STILL could) absolutely been a model, but, she told me, no one encouraged that dream. It was pie-in-the-sky, baseless and not realistic. Instead, she left home and moved to New Jersey and worked in a plant there for a year. She hated the city she lived in so she moved back home for a while and then to a city where 4 of her brothers lived. She initially enrolled in college, but took a job working at a snack cake company; she intended to work for a few years and go back to school. 25 years, 1 daughter and many life changes later she finally went back. The lesson for me: what you are passionate about and what you desire to do with your life trumps all else. She admonished me to be sure that I followed my own passions, no matter what. "Don't wait, do it now" she said.

There's nothing easy about what my mom did. Plenty of people still think she made a mistake, but she knows she didn't. She knows it was time for her to quit worrying about what other people thought and start doing what she wanted to do. Good friends are important. It's nice to have people in your world who care about you and want what's best for you, but sometimes our friends allow their own insecurities to leak out into our space. We share things we want to do with them and instead of hearing the promise, they hear the fear they have for their own dreams and that's what they let come out instead of support.

My friends do things I fundamentally disagree with all the time; however, I try to be careful not to let the fact that it's not something I would do affect my support for it. When necessary, I point out my reservations, but I always try to emphasize that as long as it's safe for them, I support what they want to do. Sometimes, I find myself encouraging risks my friends don't actually want to take :).

I don't apologize for the things I want for myself or the way I want them and I try not to put the people I love in a position to have to do that either.

Tomorrow:
Never apologize for using proper English. Keeping it real doesn't mean speaking Ebonics.

Author's note: If you need one more reason to pursue what you want, check out OneChele's list of 5 Workplace Villains.

Dreams

I'm tired of dreaming. I really am. I'm tired of talking about all the great things my friends and I are going to do. I'm ready to do it now.

The greatest speech ever given on dreaming is the one titled I Have a Dream but what makes Dr. King's speech so incredible and influential is that he died for his dream. This wasn't just something he sat around in the comforts of his living room talking to his close friends about. This was something they woke up every morning to work on and went to sleep every night preparing to continue that work. The men who marched alongside Dr. King who are still alive today, like Rev. Jesse Jackson, Rev Joseph Lowery and Andrew Young continue working on the dream they all shared.

The dreams I have with some of my close friends are amazing. We discuss ways we want to seriously and permanently impact the world we live in; however, I can't help but notice how it's ALWAYS somewhere out in the future and so rarely up close and personal. "When I get my degree" (even though all of us have at least a bachelor's) or "when I make real money" or "after I quit this job." I'm just as guilty of it as they are. I imagine what I'll do with that Master's in 3 years and how all my friends with JDs, MDs, and MBAs will be able to help me with my goal.

I can't help but notice people my age and younger than me who are living their dreams. I could sit here and outline all the opportunities they may have had that I didn't, but I'd either be exaggerating or outright lying.

I wrote a grant in high school (read more about what happened to it here) that was successfully funded. My idea was to bring the "at-risk" youth we tutored every day back to my high school's campus and expose them to team-building activities as well as cerebral activities all designed to help pull out their leadership potential. This is right along the lines of what I still dream about doing. At 15 I had the opportunity to jump on it and I didn't. There were real roadblocks holding me up, but I allowed my own frustrations to stop me from pressing on.

I've pondered before on the difference between dreams and goals. Ultimately, I think dreams become goals through hard work. You wake up everyday and you do something to take you closer to making your dreams a reality; that work transforms a dream into a goal. I'm not doing enough, anymore, to make my dreams goals and it's starting to bother me.

This post came to mind because of a conversation I had with a friend. She's thought up a plan to help make her life less boring and she's super excited about it (which is saying a lot, because she, like me, rarely gets obviously excited) and I could tell she was a little bit disappointed that I'm not as excited. I try to be, but it becomes a drag to have people set up this great plan and then not follow through as she's done numerous times. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I'm tired of having these "in the future" convos. I'm tired of dreaming and I'm ready for my dreams to become a reality.

Now the question is: what am I going to do about it?

Bug-A-Boo Part II

Read part I

I felt my phone vibrating in my jacket pocket. I pulled it out and saw a text from a local number that I didn't know. I flipped the phone open, prepared to rattle off the digits to my friend incase she recognized it, but gasped instead...

The text message said:

"How's my beautiful lady doing tonight? Maybe you should give me a call and let me hear your beautiful voice."

My friend immediately looked at me. I showed her the text message and a sly grin crept across her face.

"You didn't tell me you had a new boo..."

"That's cause I don't."

"Well, have you told him that? Who is it anyway?"

I quickly gave my friend the lowdown on Cecil. I told her that when he gave me my phone back I never checked the address book to see if he'd actually put his number in. It appeared that all he'd done was call his own phone. I had forgotten all about Cecil the Security Guard and now he was texting me. My phone vibrated again. It was Cecil. Whatever the text said didn't matter. I deleted it as soon as I opened it. If I ignore his texts, he'll get the picture eventually I reasoned with myself.

Cecil text me off and on for the next couple of weeks. Once, I responded to his texts to see how far he would go (and because my friends made me feel bad for ignoring him). It appeared, based on what he said to me, that he lived at home, didn't mind letting me know he was "juggling a few women" and had the conversation skills of a 12 yr old (which considering all our conversing was done via text, speaks volumes). Once I realized that he wouldn't be impressing me enough for me to continue talking to him, I saved his number as "DNR" (for Do Not Respond) and tried to leave well enough alone. The last text I got from Cecil showed he seemed to be picking up what I was putting down.

"I see how it is. You think you're too good to talk to me. I always gotta be the one to reach out to you. It's whatever, though. Your a** wasn't that pretty no way."

I could only laugh.

4 months later I had a new phone and as I did my customary "numbers transfer/clean out address book" I ran across my lone "DNR." I had to jog my memory to remember who this was and immediately laughed when I remembered Cecil's last text. I don't need to add him. He's done with me I said to myself. I did, however, keep my old phone within reach for the next few months so I could figure out numbers that popped up that I didn't recognize. 3 months later, though, I was sure anyone who's number I needed was in my phone and so I didn't always keep the old phone within reach.

Early one morning, I woke up not to my phone's alarm but to a text message. Mentally, I cursed out whomever it was texting me so early in the morning. Why in the WORLD would someone be up trying to get in contact with me at 7am?? I rolled over and fumbled for the phone. My hazy vision (it was morning AND I didn't have my glasses on) managed to decipher that these were numbers and not letters. Whoever it was, wasn't in my phone. At the time, I was in a temporary job and had all kinds of people calling and texting whose numbers I didn't know. I sat straight up and slid my phone open to read the text.

Hey pretty lady. Long time no talk

I had no idea who it was, but my readers are smart so I know you know exactly who it was...

I don't know why I hesitate to ask people "Who is this" when I don't know, but I do. I usually engage in conversation until I figure it out. It was 2 days later, after intermittent text messages that I recalled Cecil. I hadn't even considered him because of his last text message. The problem was, I had very stupidly revealed to this unknown person what city I was in and how much longer I would be there. I waited all day for Cecil to text me but he never did.

2 weeks later, I was lying on my mom's couch when my phone vibrated.

"Hey. I wanna see you".

"Cecil. Don't text me anymore."

"What? Why?"

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know it was you at first. I thought you didn't want to talk to me. I lost your number. Lose mine."

"All you b*tches are the same. Crazy as hell."

"Maybe next time you shouldn't make someone think you won't contact them anymore and then contact them. Looks like I'm not the only crazy one."

It's been a year since that last text, but I'm still waiting on an unidentified text message that begins something like Hey beautiful. When will I see you?

Superiority Complex

This morning it occurred to me that I may be developing a “you don’t know who I am” complex. It’s because of where I work. Many people here have that complex. I work with/around some of the most powerful people in America. Some of these people have the type of clout to get folks fired from jobs they’ve held for years, just because they want to. One swift e-mail from some of these people could put lots of money into your organization, or strip it all away. As a result, many people here have a “you don’t know who I am” complex. That is, small gaffes like mistaking them for someone of “lesser” importance can piss them off enough that they find it necessary to prove to you who they are by somehow negatively impacting whatever organization or group you represent. I’ve seen it happen.

It’s a complex born of an environment that thrives on clout, capital (of the non-tangible kind), and typically manifests itself worse among people who’ve never had power before. Power is and can be a very dangerous thing. I’ve heard many people, like the recently convicted former Mayor of Birmingham, AL, say that power is a dangerous drug...

Finish this at The Outlook

Bug-A-Boo Part I

It was important to me to find a version of this song performed by the ORIGINAL Destiny's Child. I still think it was a publicity stunt gone awry. LOL.



My last semester in college I lived off campus with my BFF. I also lived fairly close to a wal-mart, so I spent a fair amount of time there; it was nothing to just go 'cause I thought up something I needed.

One night, I decided to make a quick run to wal-mart before I went home (after being "home home" visiting my mom). I wandered around the store -- I did need a few things, but wal-mart, I'm convinced, is designed to make you buy all types of things you don't need. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a security guard staring my way. It was the corner of my eye, so I couldn't tell if he was staring at me or not. I dismissed it.

A few moments (and aisles) later, I saw the same security guard, and this time I could tell he was looking at me. He looked to be a good 3 inches shorter than me and mostly average. Certainly not my type, at least not from one look. I quickly averted my eyes because I wasn't in the mood to make any "new friends" and didn't want him to think I wanted him to come talk to me. Too bad because I guess the full on eyeball I gave him was all the invitation he needed. Though I saw him walking my way, I kept going as if I didn't see him. I don't know if it was just the way it worked out or if he peeped my game because he walked directly in front of my buggy (yeah, buggy...) forcing me to stop.

"You're pretty."

We already are having problems, because while that's a nice thing to say, it's also very awkward. "Thanks."

"What's your name?"

"Uhh... Ashley."

"That's nice. My name is Cecil."

"Hello Cecil. Nice to meet you." awkward silence "Ok, well I really need to get going."

I maneuvered around him and kept going. I actually saw him again on my way out, but was able to skidaddle fast enough to avoid him.

A few weeks later, I was back in wal-mart, having completely forgotten about Cecil. I was there, this time, because the BFF and a friend were at the crib, hungry and I had promised to cook. I have one dish the BFF loves and that's what he wanted, so that's what I was making. Of course, though, I had none of the necessary ingredients so a quick wal-mart run was in order (plus, we were out of paper plates/cups/napkins and I wasn't interested in cleaning up the kitchen after all of us, again).

Because I was on a mission, I was pretty focused. I didn't allow wal-mart's well-placed mid aisle items to distract me and had made record time. As I was rounding the last aisle and headed to the cash registers, I heard a familiar voice.

"Hey. I know you saw me. You gon' act like you don't know me."

I thought about ignoring the voice, but the volume alone let me know I wasn't going to be able to sneak away. I slowly turned around and saw Cecil grinning in my direction. I got a little nauseous and immediately began plotting a way out.

"So you think you could give me your number this time?"

"Uhh... I don't know if that's a good idea."

Cecil started coming closer and I started panicking. "Just give him your number, stupid." I thought. Of course we can all sit here and think up 1,001 options I had, but only 5 seconds prior, I was focused on my buggy (yes... buggy) full of groceries and making sure I wouldn't have to make another run out to Wally World. A "quick getaway" plan was the furthest from my mind.

"You planning on cooking tonight? You got a lot of stuff there."

"Uhh yeah. Got a few people waiting on me to get home; they're hungry."

"Well perhaps you could cook for me some time." and there was that damned awkward silence again "Ok. Well, here. Let me just put my number in your phone."

Cecil reached out his hand for my phone, which of course, was already in my left hand. He put his number in my phone and of course called his own. I quickly grabbed my phone, paid for my items and drove home.

About two or three weeks later, I had put the unfortunate incident out of my mind. As I came out of an on-campus event with some friends, I felt my phone vibrating in my jacket pocket. I pulled it out and saw a text from a local number that I didn't know. I flipped the phone open, prepared to rattle off the digits to my friend incase she recognized it, but gasped instead...

Read part II

Am I My Brother's Keeper

I read today on Necole Bitchie's site about this percieved beef between Beanie Siegel and Jay-Z. It appears that Beanie is a bit upset with the way Jay has treated him recently, beginning with his being dropped from Rock-A-Fella.

I had a brief exchange about the situation on Twitter.

@ASmith86: Apparently [Beanie's] mad from when a judge asked Jay if he'd be responsible for him if he let Beans out and Jay said no.

@mzvirgo: well he's not his guardian or whatever, so that's Beanie's problem.

She has a point. When I read what happened: a judge asked Jay-Z if upon release, Beanie could go with him on tour and he (Jay) would be responsible for Beanie and Jay said "no" I understood both sides. Beanie felt like Jay owed him more than that. He felt like they had been best friends and that Jay was turning his back on him. In fact, Beanie quotes Jay as having once said, "if my life were a movie, the sequel would be Siegel."

On the flip side, I can understand Jay's angle. Maybe he felt like Beanie was too great of a liability. If Beanie messed up, it wouldn't have been just his butt on the line, it would've been Jay's too. I've never been on a major tour, but I can imagine that you do good to keep up with yourself, let alone someone else. He may look like the a**hole in this case, but I can understand it.

So I wonder: are we our brother's keeper, anymore? Do we feel any responsibility for our close friends? Do we think it's our job, anymore, to take care of them when they fall -- or is it always fair to look out for the #1?

Ultimately, while I understand Beanie's disappointment and feelings of rejection, I don't begrudge Jay-Z. If he didn't feel like he could be responsible for Beanie, if he felt like Beanie was too much of a liability, I understand that as well. At a certain point, I think we'd all be upset with the idea of having to take care of a grown adult. Sometimes, despite their best intentions, people still make mistakes and that's ok, but when your mistakes begin to effect me and my world -- well that's not ok and not necessarily a liability I'm willing to take on.

Thoughts?

Coping Mechanisms

After you read this, head over to The Outlook and check out my commentary on Lincoln Heights.

Damon did a bit of a rant today on This May Concern You about Steve Phillips' jump off mistress and the attacks on her looks. An excerpt:

If your significant other were to ever cheat on you, wouldn’t you want that other person to look better than you? Wouldn’t that make you feel better?

When it comes down to it, I wouldn’t care what the other guy looked liked or what he did. I’ll admit that there was a time — long ago — when that type of stuff may have mattered some. But at this point in life, it’s inconsequential. I see stuff like cheating and adultry in black and white. That said, I don’t think we should be paying that much attention to Hundley’s looks and comparing them to his wife, either (But this is America. She looks terrible and this is what we do).

Here’s why: Comparing oneself — be it looks, education, earning potential or social status — to the competition is one of the most frivolous things we do as people. When you start trying to understand why someone decides to go outside of his/her relationship, the primary place you need to search is the guilty party within the relationship.

Too often people get caught up in that game of “How could he go there with her when I am/look 20 times better than her?” when the question mark in the query should come after the word “there.”

Before futher commentary, first a story.

I've already mentioned that after our relationship ended, J began dating a guy. Go back with me...

It was about 4am when I heard my phone buzzing on the table, near my head. I hadn't long been asleep and my first instinct was to ignore, but something (probably the fact that I'm unable to ignore my phone, all the time) made me grab it. It was from J, whom I'd spoken to earlier. We'd actually had a good conversation which, at that time, had become fewer and far between. I had gotten off the phone because I had a play date with some friends. J asked me to call him back when I got in, but I warned him it would be late. "I don't care. Just call me," he responded. I had no intentions of calling him back, though -- I was playing a game with him then, that I would never play with anyone now. I needed to prove that I was getting over him (we weren't officially together).

Confused and concerned about why he was texting me at 4am (but assuming he was upset I hadn't called him back) I opened the text. It was 4 pages that amounted to, "I'm gay..." I re-read the text message to make sure I was reading it correctly and then I sorta went numb. I had no idea how to feel or operate, but anger wasn't an emotion I considered. While I was extremely upset that he chose to text me something like that, the rational side of me (surprisingly) was the louder voice and it wanted me to try to be supportive.

A 2 hour phone call ensued and it did not go well, at all -- the details are for another post, but in the end he called me names, threatened to kill himself and hung up the phone. The next morning I found out that he'd gotten into a car accident and was in the hospital. Within a month, his parents had sent him to rehab out in California and that began a whole new chapter of issues for us, the details of which, again, are for another post.

In the meantime, I had to figure out what to make of the fact that J was gay. He attempted in the early portion of our phone call, and in subsequent conversations and e-mails to convince me that everything had been real and that he did love me. I wanted to believe him, but I quickly began realizing that everything had not been real. So much so that some things J wasn't even sure what had been a lie and what had been the truth. I needed some coping mechanisms.

At first, I attempted to just be the bigger person. I tried to be supportive of him all the while trying to make sure I wasn't going to crack. Eventually, I gave into the bitter side of me that wanted to make J hurt. A year later, though, I still wasn't over it and so I resorted to convincing myself that no matter what he was saying or doing, I still had been a better match for him than his then-current boyfriend. I sent a friend to his facebook profile (I had long removed him from my friend list) to scope out who she thought might be the new beau. The e-mail I received had a picture titled "yuck" and the new guy was not a looker. I was actually surprised as he was nothing like what I imagined J might be attracted to (but then again -- how would I have known?) and so began a host of conversations with friends that, at some point, included the phrase "Wow, the least he could've done was get somebody better looking than you..."

That was the way I was coping with things I hadn't yet figured out how to deal with. I had put up quite the front for my friends, pretending that J's revelation didn't really shake me to my core like it had and pretending that I'd moved on; I hadn't. I was still trying to wake up from the nightmare. Going to them to just talk about what I was feeling didn't seem like a viable option, but laughing along with them at J's new boyfriend did seem to work.

Our coping mechanisms don't always make much sense, but I don't think they're supposed to. If we understood how to truly deal with the issue at hand, we wouldn't need coping mechanisms. In the long run, I really had to be honest with myself that no matter what I said, I wasn't over J. Despite his sexuality, I still had feelings for him (compounded by his inability to decide if he was really "just gay") and I needed to figure out if I could live with that or if I couldn't. That wasn't an easy thing to do, but once I did, I found I no longer needed those ridiculous and silly coping mechanisms. There was nothing to cope with.

Sometimes we need to reassure ourselves that we are "worthy" and there's nothing wrong with us and we use other people's shortcomings to do so. For the most part, we'd frown on someone doing that, but when it comes to being cheated on or left, we seem to accept it. However you have to feel better about yourself is how you have to do it, we seem to think. We should want better for ourselves; we should want to deal with issues so that we can move on. Coping mechanisms are temporary fixes for our ego; we should be looking for permanent fixes.

What I Am

Brandy ft Mase - Top of the world
by Dante35


What I Am is not perfect. This fact seems to be lost on a lot of people I know. I feel like people don't know that I'm human. I make mistakes, I screw up, I get confused, I can't find my way. I've long wondered what people see in me that makes them think I've got it together. I'm just as clueless as the next guy. I probably know less than the next guy.

This, of course, still stems from my situation with Jessica. I got to thinking about the things she said to me and what I really felt was that she holds me to some impossible standard. She kept referencing my relationship with J.

"You were able to get over him so quickly. You said it was done and it was done."

"But, that's not what it was, at all. Getting over J was not easy and hell, I'm still not sure I'm over him."

"Yeah, well, you made it look easy."

I know that a lot of the reason people think I'm "sitting on top of the world" is because I keep a lot of my struggles to myself. That's one thing I got from my mom -- your business, is your business. Over the years, I've learned to open up to people, but as I've mentioned before -- that was one of the major issues J and I had. He hated feeling like I wasn't telling him everything (and I wasn't, but it wasn't always because I didn't trust him....)

I make mistakes all the time and I feel like those mistakes are obvious, and yet somehow the people in my world feel like I "always know what to do."

A few weeks ago, a friend called.

"I'm calling you because I have a question and you know everything.

"No, I don't know everything. What I know is how to find the answer."

I don't mind that my friends trust my judgment. On some levels, it's not even all that bad that some of them have this belief that I always have everything under control. The problem comes in when, as I do, I make a blunder. It's like their whole worlds crash.

Truth be told, I think a lot of them get some wierd satisfaction out of knowing I messed up -- even though they're the ones who put me on this damned pedestal in the first place.

The Outlook

I've done 2 new posts on my other blog. ::eek::

(Black) Students Not Allowed

Tyler Perry

Talk To Me

Our freshmen year in college, a friend of mine -- Jessica -- started dating a guy named Alex. Eventually they broke up because Alex said he wasn't ready for a relationship. Not too long after their break up, Jessica found out he was in a new relationship.

Fast forward 5 years. In that time, a pattern between Alex and Jessica developed. Alex would get in a relationship and stop calling Jessica, then he would break up with his girlfriend (or hit a "rough patch") and start calling Jessica. Jessica would play the girlfriend role -- she would go by his house when he called, she would sleep with him, stay up with him, exchange cutesy text messages with him -- all that and then suddenly, Alex would get really busy for a few days and call her up and tell her he was in a new relationship. Just like that; no warning, no explanation. This happened more than once. Of course as the friend I am, I tried to warn her, but eventually learn that I couldn't do that.

In fact, in recent months, I've really been trying to take a step back; let my friends live their lives like I want people to let me live mine. That means learning to accept their decisions as their decisions and finding better ways of expressing my own opinions. Prefacing advice with, "If I were you..." and attempting to vocalize that I understand how they feel.

This morning Jessica called me and in telling me the story of how her brother almost "talked the panties" off of a mutual friend, mentioned that something had gone down with her and Alex, again but that this time around she decided she didn't want me to know. She was scared of what I would say, worried about disappointing me and embarrassed that yet again she fell into his "trap." "I don't know how to feel that my own friends are scared to talk to me..." I told her. She told me she saw me as a "moral rock" and just couldn't bear the thought of disappointing me.

I'll deal with being another person's "moral rock" later but I have to admit, it bothered me that she felt like she couldn't tell me what was happening. She told me she actually intended to never tell me. Am I that harsh with my friends? On the one hand, I feel like my friends come to me for advice. They know I'm a straight shooter and I'll tell you what I think. "Givin' it to ya straight, no chaser..."

We spoke, she told me the whole story, I gave her my opinion and she told me she was relieved. She liked the advice I gave her and felt that it was more in line with who she is as a person than most of the other advice she'd been given. While I was glad that my advice went over well, it's still not sitting well with me that she was scared to tell me in the first place.

I've long understood that I'll take a lot of lumps in this life driving my own boat and making my own way. You just never expect those lumps will be from your close friends. It's not about Jessica trusting me or not trusting me with the information -- it was never about that for her. It's that she didn't trust me that I would prioritize her feelings above "being right." She told me, "I just didn't want to hear 'I told you so.' Not that you'd say that, but I know I would've heard it in your voice."

Just thinking... pondering... am I too much?

I Hate Your Boyfriend

I'm very protective of my friends. If I were honest, I'd admit that I'm overprotective of some. I've long said, and in fact did list as one of my "30 Secrets, 25 Random Facts" that I'm more protective of my friends than myself. All of this usually means that I'm the chick men hate. I have a lot of guy friends and they all tell me they hate their girl's friends and I'm the chick they hate the most (ok, they don't say the last part, but I know it's true). In fact, in recent years, I've attempted to not be so critical of my friends' boyfriends. I did a post on what to do when your friend is dating someone you don't like and I decided, in the end, to keep my mouth shut and, in the words of a clever commenter, "stay out of grown folk business."

Today, one of my most favoritest bloggers, OneChele did a post on domestic violence. Make sure you read it, her stats are incredible (and not in that good way). In the comments I shared about a friend who's boyfriend is a punk.

I met my friend Katrina the fall of my freshman year in college. She lived down the hall from me in our freshman dorm and we found out that though she moved away, we were from the same city, knew a lot of the same people and even had lived in the same neighborhood. We became fast friends. A few choice decisions on Katrina's end put her a year behind me in school. The summer after our second year she was in summer school and got to know the rising star on our football team; the quarterback. I had already met Patrick and I never got a good vibe off him so when she called to tell me they were seeing each other, I'm sure my reaction left much to be desired.

Fast forward a semester and she and Patrick are hot and heavy and living together in an off-campus apartment. Our schedules kept us from seeing each other quite as much, but through some mutual friends I began hearing that she and Patrick were having a lot of problems. I began making greater efforts to see her to let her know I was still around and she took the opportunity to try to help me get to know Patrick. There was something about the way Patrick didn't really look at me when Katrina was around and the way he never spoke to me when we saw each other on campus that left me with a bad taste in my mouth. One night, Katrina said to me, "Patrick says he thinks you hate him." I laughed and responded, "I don't know him enough to hate him." Katrina quickly said, "I know; that's what I told him." I could tell things about their relationship were amiss, but she seemed happy so I didn't see it as my place to make any comments.

Finally someone told me what was really going on: Patrick was beating her. He had broken 3 of her phones, left marks on her face and was intimidating her. I knew something had to be done when I found out one night she was hiding in a mutual friend's closet. A few days after that night, I was finally able to get ahold of her. We spoke and she confided in me that she was ready to leave. She hadn't been back home in a full day and when she left, Patrick had gone into such a rage that she said everything that could be broken in their apartment was. I grabbed my BFF and we drove Katrina over to her apartment to get her stuff since she figured he wouldn't be home. We pulled into the parking lot and she immediately spotted his car. I told her I was more than happy to go in with her, but she was afraid my presence would upset him. I told her that if she wasn't out in 10 minutes, I was coming in.

10 minutes later, she text me to say they were talking, he was sorry and she thought she should stay. Knowing the unfortunate cycle of abusers, I immediately got out of the car and went to the door. Katrina anticipated me doing that and met me at the door. While I was far from convinced that everything was "ok" I knew I couldn't make her leave with me.

The next week was full of similar situations. Finally, I grew tired of the cat and mouse game and I quit answering the phone. I told one of our mutual friends who Katrina was also confiding in that when Katrina was ready to go she could call me, but that I was done playing games. In the meantime, Katrina began confiding in another mutual friend of ours who she had had a "thing" with prior to Patrick. Joseph started giving Katrina money thinking she was trying to save up to leave, and he bought her another new phone when Patrick broke yet another one.

One night, the BFF and I returned from a road trip to find Katrina sitting in the lobby of our dorm. The three of us hadn't been together since the first night at her apartment and so we decided to go to Waffle House for a late night meal. I called Joseph and he agreed to go. We all met back up 20 minutes later and were headed out when Patrick came downstairs. Without a word, Katrina disappeared and it was all the BFF and I could do to keep Joseph from killing Patrick. That night, I decided I was really done. Katrina had used me, Joseph and the BFF. We were all done.

Fast forward to now. Katrina and Patrick have a beautiful son who I call my nephew and are not together but still living together. Katrina understands that if she ever truly gets ready to leave, I'm here, but until then, I don't care. Patrick knows, as I've made it clear to him that if I ever even THINK he's put his hands on her in front of their son, I got something for him and I will make SURE he gets it. That's the decision I've made for this situation. I have to say going through this has helped me understand better the thinking that makes a woman stay; I still think it's crazy but I better understand. I still hope that Katrina will get real about leaving him, but I know that their son makes that harder.

Domestic violence is one of those things I never thought would happen to any of my "strong, independent, black female" friends but it has and I've been surprised both at her and my own responses. I prioritize keeping my friends safe and I have to say at times I felt I'd failed her. Now I'm just focused on making sure my nephew grows up healthy and happy even with a loser for a father.

Hi. I'm Still Here....

I was reading Joey's blog post on the Swizz/Mashonda/Alicia debacle. Her post reminded me of quite a few incidents that happened with me and J.

We would argue all the time about whether or not our waitresses were flirting with him. He would swear up and down that they weren't. Eventually he admitted that he knew they were flirting with him, but he didn't want to admit it to me because he didn't know how it'd make me feel (that he didn't shut it down...)

I wasn't the insecure/jealous type so mostly my irritation at the waitresses was more on a "can you please be more professional" level than anything else. I wasn't actually worried that he'd take their bait.

There was the waitress who wouldn't look at me when she came to the table. She'd walk up, look at J and say "Is everything ok? Do you need anything?" Even when I'd pipe up that I needed more Coke (because though she'd been refilling his beverage, she hadn't touched mine) she wouldn't look at me. At the time, J swore he didn't notice -- but he couldn't argue with me when the check came and on the back she'd written her name and number.

There was the waitress J was able to flirt with to get alcohol. He was underage and I'm sure she knew that, but he was also a charmer.

But probably my favorite story happened after he and I had broken up and he was in a new relationship. We met up for dinner once -- we hadn't seen each other in at least 9 months -- and decided to go to some rinky dink place. We really just wanted to talk. J happened to be wearing a cologne that I had bought for him (I say "happened to" but I doubt it was accidental). Our waitress noticed and commented on it. I had already checked how she was flirting with him and ignoring me, but it didn't matter to me very much. She kept complimenting him on the scent and he was nervously laughing and sort of looking to me for a little guidance. I just shook my head; on some level her desperation was amusing. Finally she asked him where he had gotten it from. I knew he knew where I bought it from, because he liked it so much he'd asked me repeatedly where I'd gotten it. This sneaky grin came over his face and he looked me in my eyes and said, "Baby, where'd you get this from?" I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. The waitress's face got very red and she immediately turned to me and said "Oh! You bought it?" I said, "Yes, I got it for him as a Christmas gift last year. I got it from Rue 21." She didn't talk to him much after that, and I noticed my beverage stayed full.

It boggled my mind the blatant disrespect many of the women felt free to show. I'd be lying if I didn't admit that it bothered me a little that J would rather ignore the problem than speak up on it, but he made up for it with that little gem.

Turning the page

JGRunsTheCity did a post on her blog called Closing The Book on the Ex. As soon as I saw the title, I knew I had found some inspiration.

You'll recall in my last post that I said I wasn't sure what to do with The Series. I felt like continuing on with all things considered wouldn't be fair to J. His death is putting a lot of stuff front and center for me, that I have to deal with. Emotions I have to reconcile and I have no idea how to do that. That's for my counselor and I to sort out; however, I know one thing I can do.

All at once, J was the love of my life and I hated him; he'd make me smile and cry at the same time. My life was better and yet horrible when I was with him. One time, his mother and I had a long conversation where she told me that she knew in her heart that he was still alive only because of me but that she also knew I needed to get out of the cycle before it sucked the life out of me. A talk I had with one of my closest friends who probably knows more about how I honestly felt for J than anyone (even J) helped me put his life into perspective. J was on a train headed to this very point. My presence in his life delayed that train, but it didn't change it's route. Only J could make the decision to get off; he didn't. He chose to stay on and so here we are.

Even though all of that is true, through his depression and shortcomings, J was a beautiful person. He could be so sweet and caring. He told me one time all he ever wanted to do was make me laugh. He sent me a letter trying to explain his feelings about us no longer being in each others' lives. The first time I read it, I was furious with him for waiting until we got to that point -- where I really couldn't even muster the emotion to care -- to tell me how he felt. The second time I read it, months later, I was touched, but cautiously so. I hadn't read it again until recently and I've read it almost daily ever since. I think in that one letter he told me way more about what it was like to be him than our 4 years together ever could have. The back and forth; the wishing he could be better and not knowing how; secretly hoping somehow we would work out but knowing that it was probably never going to happen. And in learning all that about him, I realized we weren't all that different.

There's always going to be an ellipses at the end of our story. It will never be over because we had a lot of unfinished business. So yes, The Series will forever be this unfinished story; here on this blog and in my life. That's probably exactly how J would've wanted it. He liked keeping people guessing.

To Parent or not To Parent

You guys know what? I need to stop making promises on what my next post will be because rarely is it the right thing.

I'm trying to figure out how to end The Series -- I shouldn't leave you guys hanging, but I don't want to keep going all things considered. Maybe I will leave you hanging until I'm over it? Eh. I don't know.

Meanwhile, I do still have a post ready to go (in my head) to follow up my initial post about the Hofstra rape case; however, subsequent conversations are making me plan some serious alterations to it, so that's not what this is.

Also, I said on Twitter I was working on a post about my middle name. I was (in my head) but then I had a conversation on Twitter that gave me this:

I said (on Twitter - @ASmith86, follow me): "Also, at the risk of offending some, I think ppl who choose to have kids alone are selfish and didnt grow up in a single parent home."

Labor Day weekend, I went up to NYC to visit some friends. That didn't quiiiiiiiiittte work out the way I was expecting it to (which I may or may not expound on later), but it did give me an opportunity to spend some quality time with one friend I haven't seen in a while. One afternoon we decided to go to Central Park and on our walk there we started talking about kids. She told me about a woman she used to babysit for who has 6 month old twins and she's 52. She makes a lot of money working as a lawyer and she's well accomplished. Her children will be well provided for and probably have everything they need... except a two-parent household.

I grew up in a single parent home and I think I turned out great. However, I can tell you, the absence of my father was problematic. Now this conversation plays at the edge of "do children need a mother and father" and I have to say unequivocally that I think children need strong and consistent male and female role models, and that in a perfect utopia both of those models would be their biological parents, but I don't necessarily think that both role models need to be in the household -- even in my perfect utopia.

I don't think there's much about being a parent that looks like a one-person job. Hell, where do you think we get the saying, "it takes a village to raise a child?" A strong and consistent role model, in this capacity, is more than someone you know and admire. It's someone who can chastise you, give you advice, make major decisions that effect you. I had a lot of male models in my life, but none of them fit all those criteria.

There's also the fact that one person can only do so much. My beautiful mother could only make so many school plays and events; she could only cart me off to so many places; she could only be there so much. I don't blame her at all for whatever effects growing up sans a father had on me, because my father's absence was his choice, but I wouldn't wish that for anybody. Money is not everything, but my mom working wasn't about providing the finer things in life, it was about providing the necessities and time was sacrificed so she could do that.

My bottom line is, I understand that there are women out there who wake up one morning (proverbially speaking) and feel like they've accomplished so much but really want to be mothers. They have mothering instincts and it's what they really want and so they go out and use their resources to have their own child, alone. Someone asked me if my thought process applied to adoptive parents. It doesn't, because kids in the foster care system are far better off with one parent than with the foster care system raising them and that's a fact. I understand going out and finding your husband (or wife) right this minute is not an option for a lot of women who really want to be mothers, and I'm not suggesting you have to be married or in a committed relationship to adopt a child. In fact, I think if more people who were in that situation (single but wanting kids) would adopt or at least be a foster care home, a good one, there would be so many more kids who can grow up healthy and happy.

As much as I can help it, if I have kids, they will not grow up without two parents in their lives and fully committed.

Why Do You Lie?

By now we've all heard about and probably discussed the rape case involving a student at Hofstra University.

For those who don't know, google "hofstra rape" and you'll get all the news articles you never wanted.

To sum it up, though, a young woman -- college freshman in fact -- by the name of Danmell Ndonye consented to sex with 5 young men. Afterwards, she claimed to have been raped. An investigation was immediately launched, outraged expressed and sympathy conveyed. Shortly thereafter, when the cops began questioning Ms. Ndonye's inconsistent stories as well as confronting her with the possibility of a tape, she confessed that it had been made up.

Because I understand the real aftermath rape can have, I don't want to make a lot of jokes, but the first thought I had when I read that there was a video was, "I bet a lot more dudes are going to start recording their sexual activity..." I can't say that I'd blame a man if he did that either. Many men are convicted of sexual assault crimes that they didn't commit. I'll be the first to say that sexual assault is not taken as seriously in our society as I think it should be, but anytime a person's life and freedom could be taken away by someone else's lie, it is a problem.

Only Ms. Ndonye knows why she lied, for sure, and perhaps even she doesn't know, but I can take a stab at it. We all know that when (and in this day and age, it's a "when" not an "if") the videotape surfaced (and I believe Ms. Ndonye was probably unaware of the video) we all would have taken to Twitter, facebook and our blogs to comment on the demoralization of our young women. "How could she degrade herself like that," we would've asked. "What's this say to other young women?" others would have chimed in. Ms Ndonye may have asked herself some similar questions right after it happened and may have had immediate and sudden remorse and so she lied.

Perhaps, even, Ms Ndonye did feel raped. Perhaps she woke up the next morning and felt that she'd been violated -- but the fact is, she consented to these sexual acts and the burden of dealing with it was her responsibility, not that of the 5 men or the police officers who got her case.

I sympathize with Ms. Ndonye. I can only imagine what it's like to wake up the next morning and feel violated and know, even if it's just subconsciously, that you're to blame for your own decisions.

Having said that, what I really worry about are the women who have recently been raped and those who will be, who will remember this story and be afraid to come forward. They will stay silent because they fear no one will believe them; they won't talk because somehow they will make it their own fault. What about those women? What can we do to foster a society that allows women to come forward when they've been violated, but also protects men from women who have "buyers' remorse"?

Above all else, I hope that there are other young women out there who saw this story and will really think before they leap; consider how they might feel and what it might be like before they say yes.

I have a follow-up post for tomorrow (what? ASmith's gonna post on a Saturday?!) ok... good point...

Let's see what actually happens, but I DO have a follow-up post.

*****EDIT******
I just read an article that confirmed what I thought: she lied because she didn't want anyone to think ill of her and to explain to her boyfriend why she was MIA. He convinced her to go to the cops and so the ordeal began.

A New Way

I had a very emotional conversation with my mother yesterday afternoon. This is huge and indicative of where I am emotionally, because my mother and I don't have those types of conversations... ever...

It started because she asked me how I was enjoying being in NYC. I told her I wasn't. I didn't want to come here for Labor Day Weekend. I wanted to relax at home, but I felt pressure. I know my friends want to "coddle" me after the death of my ex and I do appreciate it and I want them to know that, so I agreed. I have got to start listening to myself and prioritizing what I want above everything else.

On the ride up to NY, I started thinking. I thought about my mood and why I've been in such a bad mood off and on for months, now. The anxiety I've started feeling regularly and for almost no reason. The stress and all the things I dislike about my current situation. Let me be clear: I'm currently in a great city, with good friends and having a good time and in 10 years, I'll be glad for all the experiences; however, right now I am not being fulfilled and that I do prioritize pretty highly. Not feeling fulfilled or feeling like I'm working towards anything that will fulfill me is contributing to my horrible mood about life.

The continuous anxiety for seemingly no reason at all woke me up, though. I concluded that I really need to seek counseling. My mom, with no prompting, reiterated that thought when I spoke to her. I almost immediately started crying because I knew she was right. She drove it home for me when she said, "Ashley, you seem to have a lot of stuff built up inside of you and it's going to come out one way or another. If you don't find someone you can be open with and express how you feel and what you think, you're going to blow and it will not be good."

She tried to make me feel better by telling me she'd seen my cousin earlier and how much he praised me for how smart I am and well-rounded and how he believes no matter what I'll get to where I need to be. She also told me what other family members have had to say about me. It felt good, but at the same time, I found myself thinking "wow, why don't I see what everyone else sees when they look at me?" This has long been something I struggled with. My friends want to be around me all the time, strangers I don't know seem drawn to me and I don't understand it. I don't think I'm a bad person at all, but I just don't get what they see.

So when I get back to work Tuesday, I shall began looking for a counselor to see... this new way will be quite an interesting journey.

Story Time...

Telling the story of Rachel and Jenna yesterday reminded me of something else that happened during our planning of this trip. Actually, it all unfolded the day of the trip.

Rachel, Jenna and a third girl who we'll call Nicole all played basketball together in high school. Nicole you'll remember from a previous story. Nicole and Rachel were friends because of proximity moreso than because of compatible character traits. As a result, post-graduation, Rachel didn't do much to keep up with Nicole.

This trip occurs 4 years after our high school graduation, and at least 2 years since Rachel and Nicole last had contact. In the interim 2 years, Nicole and I had very infrequent contact (and of course we were facebook friends). Jenna and Nicole had remained friends and spoke frequently.

As Rachel and I discussed who she wanted to come on the trip, Nicole flashed into my mind, but being very aware of Rachel's opinions of Nicole, I never asked. Later, Rachel would say she thought about inviting her, but decided against it and the events that unfolded the day we left seemed to prove Rachel's instincts correct.

Like I said, Nicole and I had infrequent contact. Mostly random text and facebook messages. I arrived in our hometown (our meetup city) before Jenna did. I went to Rachel's apartment so we could go get the rental car. We had hoped Jenna would call us to say she was in the city about the time we had the car, but she didn't, so we went back to Rachel's apartment to wait on Jenna's call.

At the time, Rachel was living with her boyfriend and her 2 year old son, Jason. I remember thinking it would be very wierd if Nicole called me or text me, but I had no reason to think that she would. I figured eventually she would find out about the trip and I knew she'd be upset she wasn't invited, but I also figured that by the time she found out, it'd be old news and she'd get over it. I'm pretty sure God heard my thoughts and needed a laugh because my phone began ringing and when I looked down, it was Nicole calling.

I knew if I didn't answer, she'd keep calling and I really didn't want her to call while we were on the road, or out together so I answered.

Me: Hello?
Nicole: Hey what's up?
Me: Not much. What are you doing?

About this time, Jason, who I'd been playing with, ran up to me and screamed something.

Nicole: Who was that?
Me: Uhh....
Nicole: Are you at home? Was that Rachel's son? Are you with Rachel?
Me: Yeah, I'm at Rachel's house.
Nicole: Why? What's going on? Jenna told me she was going home this weekend too. Are ya'll hanging out?

At this point, the details of the conversation are fuzzy, but eventually it came out that we were all going to Atlanta. Nicole was instantly pissed, said a few choice words and hung up on me.

Rachel asked me what happened, so I relayed the details. She rolled her eyes and said, "Figures. Everything is always about that girl. This is exactly why I didn't want her to come. I don't want all the drama."

Oh God I thought. This isn't over.

I was right. About the time Rachel and I were heading over to pick up Jenna, the text messages started. All of them conveyed, in not so nice words, how disappointed Nicole was, how hurt she was and how upset she was. Including her infamous "I thought we were better than that..." line (in reference to her relationship with me). Eventually, I just called her back because I couldn't text and drive. I tried to explain, without throwing Rachel under the bus, that it was her birthday, her choice. Nicole wasn't hearing it, but she didn't hang up on me and she did thank me for at least calling her back.

That night as we were all drifting off to sleep I heard my phone buzz on the nightstand. I grabbed it and flipped it open wondering who was texting me and why. It was Nicole. She'd obviously been steaming about the incident all day and had to get one last reiteration of her hurt, disappointment and anger in. At that point, I had to laugh at the situation to keep from crying about how frustrating it was. That was the last time Nicole and I spoke, until the incident I mentioned in the story I told about her last year.

There's a follow-up to that story. I'll share it with you soon.

One Sweet Day...

Keith's post today inspired me as to what to say in my first real post in quite some time.

The story he tells reminded me of something that happened about a year and a half ago.

One of my friends, we'll call her Rachel, wanted to go to Atlanta for her birthday. She wanted it to be me, her and a third friend who we'll call Jenna. The three of us were friends in highschool, Rachel and Jenna played on the basketball team together. Rachel informally put me in charge of working out the individual logistics (making sure everyone knew where to be and when) while she found the hotel she wanted to stay in. We all agreed to split the cost of the trip 3 ways. This included a rental car, gas and the hotel. About 3 weeks before the trip, I called Jenna to try to confirm some things with her (primarily that she was still going). She was sorta all over the place. She told me that the week before our trip was her Spring Break and she was going to Panama City. She wasn't sure she'd have money for our trip. I told her that was fine, but to let me know as soon as possible whether or not she went to Panama.

The next weekend, I called her and asked if she'd gone to Panama. She said she hadn't and that she would go with us to Atlanta the following weekend. The morning of the trip, Rachel called to say that the rental car company needed her to produce utility bills in order to use her debit card for a rental. She asked if I'd be ok renting the car, I agreed. That afternoon, when we picked Jenna up at her mom's home (I drove down from my college and Jenna drove down from hers, to our hometown where Rachel still lived) Rachel told her how much money she owed each of us. Jenna told us that she had not gone to Panama City for Spring Break, but had actually gone to Destin, FL. One of her relatives had promised her some money for the Spring Break trip, but hadn't come through. She was sure, however, on this Friday afternoon, that he would put the money in when she called. As we drove the 2 hours to Atlanta, Jenna made repeated calls to this family member asking for the money. When we got to the city, Jenna didn't have much money and so Rachel ended up buying at least one meal for her, all the while, Jenna promised she'd get us some money.

The next day, one of Rachel's friends called and said she wanted to come down but had no way. I agreed to drive back up to pick up this friend. Jenna asked if we would drop her off at home so she could leave some of her clothes for her mom to wash before she got back and to get some money from her mom to pay us back. An hour after we had been back and just as I was headed from one side of the city to the other to pick up Jenna, she called me to tell me her mom was not letting her go back with us because she (her mom) would not be lending Jenna any money and Jenna couldn't pay us back.

The problem was, however, she had spent at least one night in a nice hotel that Rachel had paid for, and she had ridden down and back in a car I rented and on gas I paid for. There was no getting out of it by staying at home, now. She should have stayed at home before. Rachel quickly got on the phone and demanded her money. "I want my money when I get back, do you understand?" Rachel asked. Jenna said she'd have it for us when we returned; we had to bring her the clothes she left in the hotel.

The morning we left, I text Jenna that we would be back in 2 hours and she should be at home to get her stuff. She said she would. When we pulled up to her house almost 3.5 hours later, there was no one home and there had been no word from Jenna that she wouldn't be there. We left her stuff on the front porch (though Rachel was an advocate for keeping it as collateral) and left.

16 months later, I've forgiven Jenna though we've not ever spoken about the situation. I was horridly disappointed in her response -- not returning phone calls, continuing to promise the money but never sending it, etc... -- but I learned my lesson. Rachel, on the other hand, hasn't spoken to her since the last time she asked for her money, which was 15 months ago. This is a long-time friendship that is, at least for now, dead over money. Life is too short for all that.

2 weeks ago yesterday, my ex-boyfriend, the one I've talked about ad nauseum here, killed himself. I'd long known he was depressed, but actually thought that in the time we'd been a part, he'd found a healthy relationship and was doing better. He never made me think anything different and so I was surprised and saddened to hear of his death. I had a friend commit suicide in high school. The ex was there for that, as well. He and I had many conversations about suicide and we didn't agree on it. He saw it as a gift, I saw it as selfish. Like I said, he battled depression for a long time. It was so hard to watch.

There are countless things I planned to say to him in the next few weeks. Things I wanted him to know but wasn't sure he was ready to hear. I was ready for us to try a friendship again. I was ready for us to put the past behind us and move towards whatever sort of future we had. I had literally just forgiven him, truly forgiven him, for all the stuff he did to me when his mom called me to tell me he was gone.

Life is too short to forget how short it is. I truly thought I was doing him a favor by letting him enjoy his relationship without the added confusion of us trying to be friends again, though he had told me I was wrong about that, before. We all know we shouldn't think we have forever with someone, because the truth is that we don't, but that is a hard lesson to put into practice. We let so much other stuff get in the way.

Like Keith said he learned in his experience, as I learned when my friend committed suicide 5 years ago, as I've been reminded in the death of someone I loved more than even I seemed to realize, life is too short to think you have forever. The breakup of a long-time friendship over a couple hundred dollars sounds reasonable until you put it into perspective. Money can be repaid, life and time can not be recovered. I hope that Rachel and Jenna resolve their differences, but I'm more focused on being sure that I don't let life or time slip through my fingers over things beyond my control and things that, in the big picture, just don't matter...

Untitled

Every day I say I'm going to post.

Anyone who follows me on Twitter knows I recieved bad news about a week and a half ago...

I know that one way for me to deal with it is to write about it, but I'm not quite ready for it. I will, though... I will.

I'm sure everyone has great Labor Day plans and I hope everyone enjoys theirs. I have plans, but I'm kinda dreading it... I know, I know... makes no sense.

New Brandy leak... I'm loving it. I hear Megan Rochelle recorded it first, so I wanna hear hers, but here's B-Rocka's