Thirsty at 35!

Its been a minute since I made a post but a subject has been recently coming up in conversation with both my male and female friends that I wanted to talk about.  Are single women in their mid-30's "thirsty"? 

As I approach the big 3-5, which is merely a technicality due the sun setting and rising everyday, I've pondered this question.  Dating now is nothing like it was when you're in your 20's; factor in social media and you are now able to connect with a whole universe of prospective mates, both near and far.

A number of rational reasons can be assumed as to why women seem "thirsty".  Some feel like their clock is ticking; they value their time and relationships more; and, just plain ol' don't want to waste time on someone that has no "potential".  Will running down your mental checklist of do's and don'ts constitute you as being "thirsty" or would you rather be considered "thorough"? Also, by being "thirsty" are you forgetting to let life take you where it takes you, live in the moment, and let real people connections develop?

I don't consider myself "thirsty". I'm not searching for any one kind of person. I do have a checklist but its an adult, real-world, checklist like have a job, your own place, transportation and know how to have a conversation that involves some intellectual thought and usage of words. At the very least, be able to take care of yourself.  Nothing worse than talking to a cute dummy!

No matter what term is used, I think everyone is searching for a connection.  Everyone is not meant to be your husband, boyfriend, or fill-in baby daddy. Take it for what it is and LIVE! Being "thirsty" in your actions, comments on social media, and on the hunt for Mr. Right makes you look exactly what the word "thirsty" implies, dried up!

Jumping on the Social Bandwagon

At some point, I think most people can say that they have jumped on a social bandwagon. Over the past couple of weeks, two major social causes have been in the forefront of the national media - Kony 2012 and the Trayvon Martin case. 

I'm not going to voice my opinion on the specifics of either, but I ask a simple question - why must people feel the need to discredit the level of support and attention garnered by these causes that have reached millions of people with their message?  Someone somewhere cared enough to start a grass roots movement regarding an issue that was important to them. That movement could have started with a phone call, a post on a Facebook page, a tweet, a YouTube video, or any number of ways in our social media connected world.  We all have the ability to do the same regarding an issue that we hold near and dear.

I don't think people realize that by – posting negative comments about the causes, trying to redirect people’s attention to another cause, locally or nationally – are on the very bandwagon that they seem to be opposing. 

Silence is golden, as is our collective voices in support of a cause. So instead of posting a dissertation on your Facebook page about how and why someone else's cause is garnering so much attention, use your voice to start your own cause and be the driver of your own bandwagon.

Goldfish and the doctors office

Orange and Wipes (whites), my son's goldfish, have been at the doctors office for over a year now.  I never mustered up the courage to explain their floating deaths to him when they occurred. The little guy wears his feelings on his sleeve, an adorable trait that he received from his momma. So upon their floating demise, Orange and Wipes had an extended stay at the doctor's office.

Today while my son was on an outing with my sister and mom, I was speaking with my sister on the phone. They passed a pet store and I heard my son in the background declare that his fish were dead!  I was flabbergasted!!

I immediately asked my sister to ask him who told him that? I heard him say, "I told myself. They've been at the doctors for a long time and haven't come home so they're dead." Oh geesh, what have I done.  I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.  We haven't talked about those goldfish for quite some time. The absence of the fish tank, I'm sure, has lent to the lack of conversation about them.

So in remembrance of Orange and Wipes he has now requested a Nemo fish. O_o  That salt water tank better come with a maintenance man because I'm sure Nemo will be visiting Orange and Wipes' doctor sooner rather than later.

To Listen or Not to Listen ~ Urban radio at work!

I'm sitting at my desk with the radio on listening intently as I try to win tickets to the Jay-Z and Kanye West concert, cause let's face it, the chances are far greater that I will win the tickets then pay $150 for seats where I can actually see them on stage.  So, my ear tunes in to the lyrics of the song playing, Ace Hood and Rick Ross, and this thought pops into my mind, "Am I too old and too professional to listen to urban radio at work?" 

I find myself turning the radio down when co-workers walk into my office, or suddenly breaking out into a cold sweat when during an awkward silence in conversation, the words of song shouting the n word or referencing sexual favors becomes blaring and audible. Is it just me? Am I the only one experiencing this? I mean, its not satellite radio or even an ipod playing, this is public radio. Censorship is virtually nonexistent. We've all become witty enough to know what word was meant to fill in the radio dub, my 4 yr old has said the words and he only listens to the radio (momma's been slacking on keeping her cd collection up to date).

Our music has changed. I'm old school I guess (yes, I have embraced that I am closer to the middle of my life then closer to the beginning), I want a smooth beat over some bass and lyrics that make me fall in love, cry, or get my old school butt out on the floor to dance. Our music continues to evolve, however our lyrical vocabulary seems to be headed in a different direction. AND let's not mistake wittiness for education or tact.

Now the impending decision is, do I spend my professional days tuned in to the Lite station or push through the awkwardness that sometimes occurs in a professional setting when our music is played on urban radio? 



Naturally

I was born with a tight coil pattern to my hair, we've been conditioned to call it nappy. I never got to know my hair, my choice was taken from me, from my mother, and her mother, and her mother before her, before we ever got acquainted.  At the root of this problem, literally, was a texture unfamiliar to the people who told us or classified it as "nappy". It was natural. Natural for them to not understand, or maybe they did. Maybe they understood that the natural strength in my hair was a testament to my natural strength. That if something so resilient, so course and determined was able to grow on the outside, that the same resilience could grow on the inside. 

So, in an attempt to keep me subdued and compliant, my hair became a symbol of intolerance. Heat, straightening combs, and chemical alterations followed suit. They tried to rape the kinkiness out of my hair and the color out of my skin. So now, in a time where all things are attainable, and self awareness is prevalent, why do I have to be called a "nappy headed nigger" from the people I love the most? Are they so insecure in what they have naturally, that they turn to derogatory words and old world sarcasms to disagree with a decision that they were never asked to partake in.

My  hair is my choice. I am more than my hair. I am more than any words you can think of to describe your opinion of my choice. How can I be the best me, when I've run from the most basic part of me my whole life? My journey to this place has been mine alone for reasons that are mine alone and I do not have to explain my kinkiness to you.

Disclaimer

I apologize in advance, if by the off chance
my words offend, relate, or speak directly to you
through you or even perfectly describe you
at a time when they weren't necessarily meant for you.

I only aim to express myself through a written art
paint a picture, though my brush strokes may be key strokes
and the picture is mental instead of hanging on your wall
hope it hangs around in your mind, at least for a little while

I may be random or quite specific, stand tall on my soapbox
or be a little indifferent
though I may express my opinion, in sequence or even out of order
I always hope to make sense with honesty and no pretense

So my disclaimer is a no-brainer, read at your own risk
just don't miss the point, leave an opinion if it moves you
share if you choose to,
but never take it personally, even if you know it is about you.

Banging on the door!

The other day, I'm knocking on my mother's door to drop off my 4 yr old, or should I say 80 yr old in a midget body.  I'm banging on her door like the police because apparently normal knocking does not warrant an answer.  Of course she doesn't hear me. Two reasons why I'm banging longer than 30 seconds, she's still asleep or she's in the bathroom. I continue to bang on the door, my fist is turning red.

The super panicky, always thinking the worse self shows up and I call the house phone, all the while visualizing myself kicking down the door to get in cause of course something is wrong.  I get so engulfed in my banging and crazy thoughts that I'm unaware of the 80yr old 4yr old. He's standing next to me with his head cocked to the side and says, only the way he can, "Really mommy?" His big eyes are staring at me through his bifocals and I want to say to him, "Really!?!, did you just say Really?", like as in stop banging on the door like a lunatic. But I didn't, cause clearly that is why he said it.