Today I'm Conjuring Up Old Will Smith

On my way to work this morning I wondered if anyone besides me remembers Fresh Prince's (yeah, Fresh Prince, not Will Smith) song, "You Saw My Blinker, Bitch". It's what I was mumbling in the car this morning as I realized how much I hate my morning commute and how much my residual grumpiness from the a.m. drive seeps into my attitude when I arrive at work. When work was a place I could reach by public transportation, I would arrive at my building smiling and ready to start the day. Now that I have to travel fifteen miles which takes thirty to forty minutes, I find that I am angry and frustrated upon arrival. Driving to work causes me to have to deal with some of the things I hate like smokers, last minute lane changers, and wiper enthusiasts.

First off, smoking is stupid. It's dangerous. It smells funny. It gives the smoker a most unattractive look between the yellow teeth, blackened lips, and smelly, brown, fingertips. We all know this and even still, lots of people smoke. What I don't understand is why the person driving in front of me feels the need to take a puff then old the cigarette out of the window while driving as if I want to smell it. If you enjoy the increased likelihood of some type of cancer, by all means, be my guest. However, if you can't even stand the smell long enough to smoke a cigarette while driving your car, what makes you think I want to smell it? Don't be a punk. Roll up all your windows, take lots of deep breaths, and enjoy the hot, stifling, stench yourself. It's times like these that I'm glad I don't carry a weapon with bullets in my car. Of course, the smoker isn't the only annoyance. There' s also the last minute lane changers.

How can someone who drives the same way to work EVERYDAY forget EVERYDAY that he/she needs to get off at the same exit each time? If the exit is only half a mile away, why is he in the fast lane frantically mouthing out curse words and gesturing so that everyone else will let him get over? He knew that his your exit before he even left the house! Why didn't he get over a mile back? Sheesh. These people act like their emergency is my problem. I've never cared if a stranger missed her exit. Of course this person isn't the only one on the road.

There's also the windshield wiper fluid driver on the freeway in the morning. I like a clean windshield as much as the next person but I don't like my windshield to be "cleaned" as a result of spray from someone else's car. I respect that the other driver wants to tidy up a bit while going eighty miles per hour, however, I'd like to know is she wouldn't mind going ahead and saving that activity for surface street activity. I'm tired of washing my car and windshield only to have it dirtied up by someone obsessed with cleaning her own car. Damnit, enough is enough.

I spend much of my time in the car angry. This was not a problem when I rode the light rail. Of course then, I didn't have all of this stuff to put in my blog...

I'm Not Sorry To Hear That At All

I recently decided to remove the phrase, "I'm sorry to hear that" from my vocabulary as it applies to those I love. It's a simple phrase I've always used in sort of an absent-minded sort of way to try to describe my sorrow for someone else's misfortune. However, upon review and consideration, I've realized that this phrase doesn't really mean what I thought it did. Saying, "I'm sorry to hear that" implies that I am regretful that someone who I most likely care about bothered me by sharing his or her grief with me. To me the phrase really says, "I wish you hadn't bothered telling me this so I could avoid being hurt or possibly inconvenienced by your problem". That isn't the message I want to give my loved ones. I want them to feel comfortable coming to me even in their grief, with the knowledge that I will provide empathy or sympathy (whichever is needed) regarding the situation they are experiencing. The last thing I want is for those I love to feel as if coming to me when they are hurt is a burden. To avoid all of this, I pledge to stop using this phrase in this situation. I'm not at all sorry to hear that. As a matter of fact, thank you for having enough love for me to trust me to help ease your pain.

I will, however, continue to use this phrase where it applies.

Boss: I accidentally deleted the thirty page document you typed for me yesterday.

Me: I'm sorry to hear that.

See, it really does still have it's place! I suppose what I'm really trying to say is that more consideration should be given to the things we let fly out of our mouths. I don't want to be sorry to hear much else.

I Know You See Me. Stop Lying.

While I think it sounds sort of nice to say, "I don't even notice color when I meet people. All I see are human beings", it's pure hogwash. I'm sure it makes whoever says it feel politically correct, fair, and non-racist, but really it just makes a person sound stupid. I believe one of the reasons we are all made differently is so that we can enjoy and celebrate each other's differences. I don't want anyone to look at me and not notice I'm a black woman. I'm not ashamed of it by any means and I don't need anyone else to be sorry about it. I love my beautiful black skin, my wide nose, my kinky hair, my ample curves, and my incredibly rich ancestry. I love looking outside of the "norm" and I don't have any problem with anyone else noticing it. As a matter of fact, I welcome it. I'm sure I'm going against the grain, as usual, but I don't think we can notice how much alike we are as humans until we realize how unique we are ethnically.

Noticing one's color has never been the problem in this world. The problem is noticing it, then assigning our negative thoughts and misconceptions to it. Rarely is a person of color viewed and then admired in America. Usually the darker the color of one's skin, the darker the negative connotations. That's where the ultimate mistake is made. I love it when I'm out and I see an ethnically diverse crowd of people. I admire the beauty of other cultures and have always wished the same admiration would apply to me and those who look like me.

It's time we stop pretending don't see color by lying out loud. It's also time we start looking at other people and recognizing who they are without trying to put them in the neat box we've picked out just for them and all those we think are like them. It's time to be color conscious while being blind averse to ignorance.

Ah, Poor Thing, She's Single You Know

Though the feminist in me sometimes tells me I shouldn't, I suppose I would like a man in my life. However, despite my interest in a relationship, I, unlike a lot of women I know, manage to avoid obsession with being some man's girlfriend or Mrs. So And So. Having said that, I can't help but wonder where married women get off sharing their "trade secrets" with single women about how to bag a husband or why they insist on talking to single women as if we have a serious case of the cooties.

I can't stand it when a woman I know is engaged or newly married and says things to me like, "Don't worry, it will happen for you too one day" or "Well, you know, Leroy has a lot of single friends so maybe we can get you hooked up" or "Ms. M, if you would just be a little more open and accepting, you too could meet your Prince Charming like I did". Ugh <--- (that's the sound I make as I'm sticking my finger down my throat). When did I ever say I was worried or devastated that Mr. Right hasn't come along? So, what I'm wondering is if becoming engaged or getting married gives women some kind of magical powers that she feels compelled to share with the poor single women. I mean, what the hell makes them think that just because they are in love, I'm dying from loneliness? When was my personal happiness ever tied into what another woman does and what makes them think that what they have is so damn great? I mean, I LOVE love. I really do. The thought of being in love and being loved back in the manner I want and need is a wonderful thought. However, I really am more than fine in the meantime. I may be without romantic love, but I possess the most important kinds of love already. Love of God, love of family, and love of friends. Any other love is like extra icing on my already frosted cake. Furthermore, if these women were so good at finding the right man, as a friend, I wouldn't have had to watch them make all the wrong choices prior to meeting Mr. Right. How can she be qualified to give me advice when she just barely got it together herself and why should a proposal from a man be gained with trickery and manipulation? No thanks, I'd much rather be pursued of a man's own free will than to quietly (or in some cases, not so quietly) trick him into believing marrying me is what he wants over time. A husband by hook or crook is really not my style.

I also hate it when I share my dating drama and am met with the response of, "Girl, I'm so glad I don't have to go through that anymore. I just wouldn't know what to do with myself if I was single". Wow. Yes, folks, this is exactly the kind of thing that makes single women resentful of married women. No, it isn't that we're jealous. In many cases we are actually GRATEFUL that we aren't married. Especially is being married will turn us into a presumptuous, pompous, condescending, bitch. Better to be single and at peace than to marry the first schmuck who comes along just to change a Miss. to a Mrs. So, I just really want to get across the point that single women aren't poor, disadvantaged, urchins to be pitied. We are independent, smart, and hopefully, picky women who enjoy life to the fullest even without the presence of a man. Imagine that. So, no, we don't need you to hook us up out of pity. We don't need you to remind us how glad you are that you're married and not single like us and we certainly don't need your stupid advice on how to "cajole" a man into proposing. We are just fine, thank you very much.

Tell It Like It Is

I'm not sure if I was ever alive for this, but what happened to the days when people spoke the unadulterated truth? It seems that in these days of political correctness, it is not only unacceptable to say things like midget, retarded, or Christian, it is now incorrect to use the word, LIE or any of it's tenses. Over the past few months in watching news headlines I've heard so many synonyms for the word, lie, that I had to revel at the inventive nature of publicists and lawyers. When asked about statements made that he took steroids during his baseball career, Roger Clemons responded by saying his old trainer "misremembered:. When Hilary Clinton was called on her false claims of getting off of a plane and facing sniper fire during her tenure of as First Lady, she said she "misspoke". What the hell is misspeaking and misremembering? Are these words even in the dictionary? What ever happened to a good, plain, old-fashioned, lie? Whatever happened to turning to the dishonest perpetrator and saying, "That's a lie and you know it"? Why are we no longer able to tell people that either A) they don't know what the hell they are talking about or B) they are full of shit? I miss those days even though I believe they've been absent most of my days on this planet. Even though it isn't the most popular way of functioning, I've decided to bring back brutal honesty much the same way Justin Timberlake brought back sexy (thanks, Justin). There will be no misspeaking, misremembering, or mistaken on my watch without me confirming it to really just be a lie or a case of someone not knowing what he is talking about. I figure occasionally hollering out, "That's bullshit!" is the least I can do for my country.

Shut Your Happy Face

Sometimes I wonder if I'm really just a big old meanie. I mean, I'd like to think that I'm friendly (enough), loving to my loved ones, and willing to bask in God's glory. HOWEVER, there are few things at work I find more irritating than the guy who whistles while entering the building everyday and responds to your obligatory "how ya doin'" inquiries with an idiotic grin and a "I'm great! Everyday is a wonderful day! It only gets better as time goes by!". If I hear this guy say that one more time I'm afraid of what I might do. I hope I'm not angry and annoyed because he is happy. That can't be it. I think I'm mostly bothered by the falsity of it all. As important as positive self talk is to me, I just don't find it healthy to smile and lie to yourself and everyone else about everything being peachy when your car note is thirty days past due, your student loan money is late, and/or your son was just arrested and sent to juvenile hall. Sure, being positive and upbeat has its benefits and there is always something for which to be grateful, BUT give me a break dude! The professed perfect life he claims prevents others from feeling comfortable in expressing any problems they may be having. How can you cry on the shoulder of the guy who has never had a bad day? How can you go to that friend for help in times of crisis without being made to feel like a terrible ingrate for being upset in the first place? I don't know about anyone else, but I'm looking forward to the day when I ask him how he's doing (which, by the way, I now avoid asking most of the time) and he looks sad and tells me he's having a problem. It is then that all will be right with the world.

Where Was I?

In spite of women's lib, loving myself, not giving a damn what others think, the evil of subliminal messages in the media, and reveling in the fact that I am wonderfully made, I must admit that I am obsessed with my weight. Just like adolescent boys spend most of their days thinking about sex, I spend most of mine thinking of just how far in I can suck my stomach to appear less fat and whether or not anyone would even notice my effort. I'm constantly telling myself to sit up straight to avoid displaying all of my rolls, pull up my pants over my most prominent rolls, and to make sure my head is up straight so that all of my chins aren't showing at the same time. At the end of the day, when I let out my stomach, I'm exhausted. When I'm not obsessing about my rolls, I'm thinking about how I even got to this point. I ponder on where I was exactly when I went from having a tummy, to a stomach, to a belly, to a GUT. I think about that, and the fact that I should be ashamed of myself for being obsessed in the first place.

I know better and I've fed the rhetoric to many a friend in the past. I tell them they are beautiful. I tell them that the only kind of man who wants a bone is a dog. I even tell them that their curves are part of their appeal. I believe myself too. However, no matter how many times I give them the rigmarole, I can't seem to make myself believe the hype. I've noticed the looks I've gotten from people I knew in my much smaller days and I've noticed how many people don't initially recognize me. I've noticed how men who once looked at me as if they were kind of interested now look and shake their heads disapprovingly. I've even noticed that the "quality" of man to approach me has changed. I especially hate it when they approach me and tell me how they "like big women". That's the worst. There's nothing like having a man confirm what you already know but are hoping no one else has noticed. I do realize it's a constant battle. I know when I'm in the gym I'm supposed to be exercising for my health and well-being but in all honesty, a large part of the reason for the workout is the fact that I'm still on the market and I don't want to end up being the last picked and having to go home with some 2 foot 2 man with one strand of hair and the same number of teeth because he's the only one left who "likes big women". While I know this is incredibly short-sighted and shallow, it's how I feel most of the time nonetheless. Seriously, between all the self-conscious stomach-sucking, pant pulling up, head erect tactics and the gym, the frustration really just makes me want to have a big plate of french fries. Maybe that's the source of my new found belly...

Ultimately, I know all the right things. I have to want to lose the weight and go to the gym for the sake of good health. I have to love myself the way I am or else no one else (decent) will. I have to really believe I'm wonderfully made before a successful weight loss program can occur. All that, and, I have to put down the french fries.