You ever have those days when you know that you have to wake up early and as your alarm goes off for the fifth time you’re so near tears you want to scream because the thought of having to get out of bed is unbearable? That’s how I felt this morning. I didn’t want to get out of bed. Me and J had stayed out too late the night before and I had to be downtown by 9:15 so that I could interview with temp agencies. It totally sucked, but I made it through. Actually both agencies really liked me and said they wanted to get me working right away. It was so nice. I felt like finally there was a little bit of a break in the clouds and boy did I need to hear that good news.
I had really wanted to see Step Brothers and since Jaime had movie cheated on me J agreed to go see it with me. So I get dressed and he gets dressed (not in the same place) and we walk out the door. We go down the elevator and look at each other and realize that we match. We both had on lime green shirts. I mean we were bright. We look like a pack of sour skittles and we laugh because there is no way that anyone is going to believe that this is by complete happenstance. I mean if we both walked out in black shirts it wouldn’t be so noticeable but bright green? Not to mention depending on the day J can look black, Puerto Rican or white and today he was looking quite clear. So we are going to be walking down the street as the billboard for jungle fever’s cutest couple. I know we have come a long way but people still castigate interracial couples. The sad thing is I actually had a boyfriend and we dressed alike on a regular basis from 1999 until 2002. We actually got cutest couple our senior year of high school. Shout out to baby cakes. You know who you are! J and I had the option to go change but I thought it would be much more fun to watch the reaction. Then we started seeing how many people we could spot who could join our interracial lime green family. There were quite a few.
One thing I haven’t adjusted to is the random weather here. There we are walking through Times Square and this random dust storm starts. This was no little storm. I mean there was dirt as tall as buildings. I felt like any minute I was going to be transported to Oz via dust. Just when you thought it wouldn’t go any higher it began to percolate down landing on various body parts including my lips. This wouldn’t be the worst thing except I was wearing lip gloss. So it got stuck. Great. Now I may be transferring rat dookie via dust on my lips.
Certain places are known for certain things. Philly for their cheese steaks, Florida for their oranges. Napa Valley for wine. New York for their pizza. So since we clearly can’t go wine tasting we did the next best thing. Pizza tasting. There’s nothing more exciting than trying a piece of pizza from all the places in a one block radius. I was stuffed.
What was better than the pizza was this one particular place that was owned by Egyptians. First off, I want to caveat my next commentary by saying that Egyptians are not black. They actually look more of Middle Eastern or Sri Lankan descent. Anyway, this girl had about the biggest butt I had ever encountered besides this girl in the 8th grade named Crystal Thomas whose butt should have been in the Guinness Book of World Records. I am just going on the record of saying that Egyptians have black booties. I don’t know maybe it’s because it’s so close to Africa.
Speaking of Africa, why do we have to walk through the middle passage in the subway to get to our train? It’s the longest walk ever…and it’s hot. Only in the middle passage can you see a midget taking pictures with tourists, a scary angel, buy a new outfit and literature spewing what God says about “The Gays.” Before you lose it that’s not how I am wording it. That’s what the literature says.
Let’s talk about this for a minute though. As I walked by I wondered why it said The Gays and not just maybe homosexuality. I also wondered why there was no literature on The Liars or The Fornicators or any sin. It made me sad because these were Christians and in that moment I understood why people sometimes said Christians were hypocrites or don’t want to go to church. Sometimes we are harder on the “visible” sins. We shun those and detest them but then proceed to tell a white lie and deem it as not as bad. I wonder what would happen if everyone wore labels listing their sins for a day. What would we learn about people? How would we treat people? I am in no way condoning any sin. My very birth made me a sinner. I’m just saying we need ease off judgments and deal with people like they’re people. Alright mama’s done fussing.
And yes I am pondering all of this while still walking and I realize that my shins hurt and are sore. I equate soreness and pain with muscle strength. You know after you work out you’re sore but you eventually become muscular. All I’m saying is that I am about to have the buffest shins ever.
To round out our fun field trip J decides he wants to go this park in the Bronx where hip hop was birthed. So we ride the train and then have to walk across the freeway for five years to get there. It was really far. Especially because I don’t give a crap where hip hop was formed. What personal gain do I get. For all this walking we better stand on the exact spot where hip hop was formed and I better be able to break dance or scratch extremely well afterwards. We never did find the park and had to walk all the way back.
Two random pieces of information to end this blog.
One, I saw a Mexican guy with a grill. I ain’t never seen that in my life and I laughed out loud.
Two, I want to ride the subway late one night, go into an empty car and…shoot a music video. Like just me and a few friends just doing karaoke with no music and making a video. I think it would be the most fun ever and if you come to visit I will be enlisting you for this project. Yes!
Friday, August 22, 2008
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Me and J at Bubba Gumps
Aren't these the best glasses ever?
J's hand next to strawberry shortcake dessert. It was massive!!! (read posting below)
My hand next to the biggest dessert ever.Thursday, August 7, 2008 Don’t Advance Gold Diggerism
Okay today I had about three of the craziest conversations I have ever had in my life. Two were based around gold diggers oddly enough and the other was too crazy or private to mention here. Anyway I had a conversation with this guy I used to date about tactics of a gold digger and how I’m not one. Blah blah blah. And you know what happened? Later on that day some 43 year old man tried to turn me out and advance me in the way of gold diggerism. I was walking down the street and this man tried to hit on me. Being that it was hot and I wasn’t in the mood when he asked I told him the truth. He was way too old. He could’ve been my daddy. Yes that’s exactly what I told him. That didn’t deter him. This dude started asking me if he could take me out to eat and could he pay for me to get a manicure and pedicure. Granted I needed one but I would be using him if I let him. And I thought to myself how desperate are you that you would allow me to use you knowing I already said I wasn’t interested? And if you were too old when I was hungry and had crusty feet you would still be too old after. I don’t get it. Men, please don’t advance gold diggerism. If she is not interested then you doing things is only going to make you broke and her more disinterested.
Yeah so because J loves basketball so much The Mayor had invited us to yet another basketball game. Great! This should be fun. I get to miss the season finale of So You Think You Can Dance for basketball and I ran the risk of The Mayor trying to “pressure” me. Wow. Not looking forward to that.
We went to the basketball game, it was boring and we left. Next…
J had never seen all the lights and dazzle of 42nd street so he and I went downtown. Then we got hungry. So we went to Bubba Gumps to eat. Nothing exciting. But what was exciting was that we ate the biggest Strawberry Shortcake desert I had ever seen in my life. It was so huge that we both took pictures of the dessert with our hand next to it so it would be possible to grasp the fullness of its bigness. Yeah it was pretty good. Except that they used a biscuit instead of that sponge cake. Yeah that wasn’t so great. And that’s pretty much all that happened today.
Yeah so because J loves basketball so much The Mayor had invited us to yet another basketball game. Great! This should be fun. I get to miss the season finale of So You Think You Can Dance for basketball and I ran the risk of The Mayor trying to “pressure” me. Wow. Not looking forward to that.
We went to the basketball game, it was boring and we left. Next…
J had never seen all the lights and dazzle of 42nd street so he and I went downtown. Then we got hungry. So we went to Bubba Gumps to eat. Nothing exciting. But what was exciting was that we ate the biggest Strawberry Shortcake desert I had ever seen in my life. It was so huge that we both took pictures of the dessert with our hand next to it so it would be possible to grasp the fullness of its bigness. Yeah it was pretty good. Except that they used a biscuit instead of that sponge cake. Yeah that wasn’t so great. And that’s pretty much all that happened today.
Wednesday, August 6 The Mayor Makes a Move
The Mayor made his move. I repeat The Mayor made his move. So hanging out in group settings with The Mayor has been cool cuz he is a really nice guy but in the back of my mind there was a nagging suspicion that this wasn’t it. That he may have something more up his sleeve. My hope was that he just wanted to be friends and had no other interest in me. Well my hope was deferred and it makes my heart sick. I have absolutely no interest in The Mayor. At all. Actually after the year I had I have no interest in dating for a long long time. Makes me gag. If I was going to date he wouldn’t even make the waiting list. There is actually only one person who would make that list at this time.
It was so fun while it lasted but I don’t know if I can hang out with him anymore cuz if he tries to make a move he might lose his life. And being that he may potentially be the biggest drugdealer ever I would then lose my life.
This is how this silliness began. Basically in a roundabout punkish way he asked if J was my boyfriend. In my opinion that was the dumbest question to ask since J and I showed no romantic interest in one another. By the way if he was my man why would I have called The Mayor for us to all hang out? Just dumb. You are a 35 year old man. You can’t expect me to believe you thought that. So I said no he wasn’t my boyfriend. You see all this time I thought The Mayor knew I was single and apparently he thought otherwise. Dang. Wish he still thought otherwise. So he goes on to say that he thought I had a boyfriend which is why he hadn’t pressured me to go out to dinner. That word pressure didn’t resonate well with me at all. Negro who do you think you’re going to pressure? I don’t want you! The conversation ended there because I had to go into the subway. To be continued…
It was so fun while it lasted but I don’t know if I can hang out with him anymore cuz if he tries to make a move he might lose his life. And being that he may potentially be the biggest drugdealer ever I would then lose my life.
This is how this silliness began. Basically in a roundabout punkish way he asked if J was my boyfriend. In my opinion that was the dumbest question to ask since J and I showed no romantic interest in one another. By the way if he was my man why would I have called The Mayor for us to all hang out? Just dumb. You are a 35 year old man. You can’t expect me to believe you thought that. So I said no he wasn’t my boyfriend. You see all this time I thought The Mayor knew I was single and apparently he thought otherwise. Dang. Wish he still thought otherwise. So he goes on to say that he thought I had a boyfriend which is why he hadn’t pressured me to go out to dinner. That word pressure didn’t resonate well with me at all. Negro who do you think you’re going to pressure? I don’t want you! The conversation ended there because I had to go into the subway. To be continued…
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
KKK?
You can't tell me that this museum exhibit isn't reminiscent of the KKK. Can we say Rosewood? All it needs is a burning cross. Read my blog below for details.Museum Pics. Does this dude look like the KKK or what?
You can't tell me that this doesn't look like the KKK. Read my blog below for details!!!
Pictures to accompany the most random day ever
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This is where J stayed the week he was here. Looks a little like an upscale homeless shelter huh?
August 5, 2008 The Most Random Day Ever
Today was a really good day. It was a really random day but good nevertheless. I felt more encouraged than I have lately. I still am unemployed and still have no idea what God is doing in my life but I am confident that everything is going to work out in my favor.
So this is in no particular order, but these are just the highlights of my day.
I have this dream book of things I would like to do before I die. Duh of course they would be before I die. I couldn’t do them after I was dead unless Oprah will have her favorite things show in Heaven. Some things are random like learn to play the violin and some are more serious like opening my performing arts center. Well, one thing on that list was I wanted to get Pilates certified while I was in New York. Didn’t know how it would happen and I wasn’t looking to do that now. Anyway, I was on craigslist and there was this posting for an internship where if you do a few work study hours and teach they will certify and train you in Pilates…for free. So, I sent them an email and guess what? They called me for an interview tomorrow. Don’t know if I’ll be a fit, but I thought that was cool. Kind of like Jesus winking at me and telling me everything is gonna be alright.
My friend J came to New York for the week. He is a DJ and a model and was meeting with agencies to get signed. That was cool because it was our first visitor and we were super excited. On top of that he had never been to New York so that was even cooler.
So because J is a DJ, I found this museum that had an exhibit on the history of mix tapes. So we went down to Chelsea to this exhibit and all I could say was what the heck. I can’t even describe the kind of stuff they had at this exhibit. Christmas lights strewn over Plexiglas. Men dressed up as feminine ballerinas fondling microphones while they sing; four white sheets with pointy tops and white feet carrying a glass casket. I thought to myself, “Are they supposed to be the KKK and if so how much trouble will I get in if I kick the exhibit?” (See picture). I mean it looks a little like the KKK right? I guess anything is art. So if I stand in one place and drop dog meat over my head is that art?
I’ve never been much of a sports fanatic, but tonight I think I fell in love with street ball. Its one thing to watch a basketball game on television but it’s another thing to see street ball. Something about is so dirty and real. I really enjoyed it. So how did I find my new found love? I’m glad you asked. I didn’t know his name so we will just call him number 11. Ha ha. Just kidding. I’m not that man crazy.
Anyway, I put a call into the Mayor to see if he had any ideas for what we could do to entertain J. He invited me to watch a basketball game. Since I had turned down his offer before and had nothing to do I figured that we should go check it out. So we meet the Mayor and he drives us to Ruckers Park. Now I don’t know if you have ever heard of Ruckers Park, but some of the best street ballers have played on that court and boy is it hood. So I thought that we were just going to some random game but it was actually a celebrity basketball league. Of course we get there and it’s full and they’re not letting anyone else in. But I forgot we were with the Mayor. He talked to a few people and just like that we were in. How cool was that? What was even crazier is we looked up a few feet away and saw someone who resembled Rhianna. Oh shoot it is Rhianna. And that dude looks like Chris Brown. Wait it is. I didn’t even know he could play basketball but he did a really good job. It was just one of those random things that happens on a random day. Chris Brown playing basketball as his girlfriend Rhianna cheers him on and takes pictures.
But who cares about Chris Brown? He’s an awesome entertainer but there was something there even more entertaining. Did you know that the Harlem Shake is not dead? I mean they still do the Harlem Shake in Harlem. Fancy that. I was shocked! There were these teenage guys there dancing and they were so tight. I couldn’t take my eyes off of them. So I talked to them afterwards to see if they had a crew and they agreed to let me come down to where they rehearse and take some photos. Who knows maybe I’ll end up doing a documentary on street dance crews in New York. Ha ha. Just kidding.
As we were leaving the game Jaime and J both had to use the restroom leaving me and The Mayor alone. All of a sudden he pulls out a wad of one hundred dollar bills. So I asked what anyone would ask to someone who just pulled out that much money with no fear of being jacked.
The conversation that erupted from that is below and no it is not fiction…
The Mayor counting his million dollars (okay not millions but definitely thousands)
Dez: Aren’t you afraid that someone’s going to try to jack you.
The Mayor: I wish a nigga would
Dez: Are you sure you’re not a drug dealer?
The Mayor: (laughs) Why would you say that?
Dez: You’re not afraid that someone is going to steal your money and everyone knows and respects you.
The Mayor: I been around a long time. I grew up here. They should know me. And respect is a good thing.
Dez: (interrupts) I mean cuz if you’re a drug dealer, it’s cool. It just means I have to wear different shoes when I’m around you. I probably have to wear sneakers so I can be ready to run and walk thirty paces ahead of you in case people start shooting.
The Mayor: (laughs) Ok, if I’m a drug dealer how did I buy all my clubs?
Dez: Duh you paid everybody off (In my head I’m thinking…You can’t fool me. I know how this goes. I had TVOne and watched all the old episodes of New York Undercover). You sure you’re not a drug dealer cuz I can’t be riding around in a car with a drug dealer.
The Mayor: I am not a drug dealer.
End of Conversation
I know it sounds crazy, but I had to ask. I am not trying to be an episode of Law and Order: Criminal Intent because this negro failed to tell me that he had 20 bags of coke in his trunk that was stolen from the mafia and people follow us and shoot up the car then everyone dies except me cuz I got shot in the butt but didn’t feel it so I witness all of it and the mafia grabs me and tortures me under the Brooklyn Bridge by letting cat sized rats gnaw at my feet then they throw me on the subway tracks and I hit the third one that electrocutes me then a subway hits me then that weird guy from Criminal Intent comes in and figures out how they kill me and everybody goes to jail. I just took a breath. I know it was all one big run on sentence but it was for effect people.
Oh one more random thing. You know how you see people go from car to car on subways? I always wanted to try that. So today I did. It was really fun. Ha ha. I’m so silly!
So this is in no particular order, but these are just the highlights of my day.
I have this dream book of things I would like to do before I die. Duh of course they would be before I die. I couldn’t do them after I was dead unless Oprah will have her favorite things show in Heaven. Some things are random like learn to play the violin and some are more serious like opening my performing arts center. Well, one thing on that list was I wanted to get Pilates certified while I was in New York. Didn’t know how it would happen and I wasn’t looking to do that now. Anyway, I was on craigslist and there was this posting for an internship where if you do a few work study hours and teach they will certify and train you in Pilates…for free. So, I sent them an email and guess what? They called me for an interview tomorrow. Don’t know if I’ll be a fit, but I thought that was cool. Kind of like Jesus winking at me and telling me everything is gonna be alright.
My friend J came to New York for the week. He is a DJ and a model and was meeting with agencies to get signed. That was cool because it was our first visitor and we were super excited. On top of that he had never been to New York so that was even cooler.
So because J is a DJ, I found this museum that had an exhibit on the history of mix tapes. So we went down to Chelsea to this exhibit and all I could say was what the heck. I can’t even describe the kind of stuff they had at this exhibit. Christmas lights strewn over Plexiglas. Men dressed up as feminine ballerinas fondling microphones while they sing; four white sheets with pointy tops and white feet carrying a glass casket. I thought to myself, “Are they supposed to be the KKK and if so how much trouble will I get in if I kick the exhibit?” (See picture). I mean it looks a little like the KKK right? I guess anything is art. So if I stand in one place and drop dog meat over my head is that art?
I’ve never been much of a sports fanatic, but tonight I think I fell in love with street ball. Its one thing to watch a basketball game on television but it’s another thing to see street ball. Something about is so dirty and real. I really enjoyed it. So how did I find my new found love? I’m glad you asked. I didn’t know his name so we will just call him number 11. Ha ha. Just kidding. I’m not that man crazy.
Anyway, I put a call into the Mayor to see if he had any ideas for what we could do to entertain J. He invited me to watch a basketball game. Since I had turned down his offer before and had nothing to do I figured that we should go check it out. So we meet the Mayor and he drives us to Ruckers Park. Now I don’t know if you have ever heard of Ruckers Park, but some of the best street ballers have played on that court and boy is it hood. So I thought that we were just going to some random game but it was actually a celebrity basketball league. Of course we get there and it’s full and they’re not letting anyone else in. But I forgot we were with the Mayor. He talked to a few people and just like that we were in. How cool was that? What was even crazier is we looked up a few feet away and saw someone who resembled Rhianna. Oh shoot it is Rhianna. And that dude looks like Chris Brown. Wait it is. I didn’t even know he could play basketball but he did a really good job. It was just one of those random things that happens on a random day. Chris Brown playing basketball as his girlfriend Rhianna cheers him on and takes pictures.
But who cares about Chris Brown? He’s an awesome entertainer but there was something there even more entertaining. Did you know that the Harlem Shake is not dead? I mean they still do the Harlem Shake in Harlem. Fancy that. I was shocked! There were these teenage guys there dancing and they were so tight. I couldn’t take my eyes off of them. So I talked to them afterwards to see if they had a crew and they agreed to let me come down to where they rehearse and take some photos. Who knows maybe I’ll end up doing a documentary on street dance crews in New York. Ha ha. Just kidding.
As we were leaving the game Jaime and J both had to use the restroom leaving me and The Mayor alone. All of a sudden he pulls out a wad of one hundred dollar bills. So I asked what anyone would ask to someone who just pulled out that much money with no fear of being jacked.
The conversation that erupted from that is below and no it is not fiction…
The Mayor counting his million dollars (okay not millions but definitely thousands)
Dez: Aren’t you afraid that someone’s going to try to jack you.
The Mayor: I wish a nigga would
Dez: Are you sure you’re not a drug dealer?
The Mayor: (laughs) Why would you say that?
Dez: You’re not afraid that someone is going to steal your money and everyone knows and respects you.
The Mayor: I been around a long time. I grew up here. They should know me. And respect is a good thing.
Dez: (interrupts) I mean cuz if you’re a drug dealer, it’s cool. It just means I have to wear different shoes when I’m around you. I probably have to wear sneakers so I can be ready to run and walk thirty paces ahead of you in case people start shooting.
The Mayor: (laughs) Ok, if I’m a drug dealer how did I buy all my clubs?
Dez: Duh you paid everybody off (In my head I’m thinking…You can’t fool me. I know how this goes. I had TVOne and watched all the old episodes of New York Undercover). You sure you’re not a drug dealer cuz I can’t be riding around in a car with a drug dealer.
The Mayor: I am not a drug dealer.
End of Conversation
I know it sounds crazy, but I had to ask. I am not trying to be an episode of Law and Order: Criminal Intent because this negro failed to tell me that he had 20 bags of coke in his trunk that was stolen from the mafia and people follow us and shoot up the car then everyone dies except me cuz I got shot in the butt but didn’t feel it so I witness all of it and the mafia grabs me and tortures me under the Brooklyn Bridge by letting cat sized rats gnaw at my feet then they throw me on the subway tracks and I hit the third one that electrocutes me then a subway hits me then that weird guy from Criminal Intent comes in and figures out how they kill me and everybody goes to jail. I just took a breath. I know it was all one big run on sentence but it was for effect people.
Oh one more random thing. You know how you see people go from car to car on subways? I always wanted to try that. So today I did. It was really fun. Ha ha. I’m so silly!
Monday August 4 Finding the Bright Side to Every Situation
You ever think what compelled Tom Cruise to slide across the floor in his underwear in the movie…well I don’t remember what the movie is called but you know what I’m talking about. What compelled him to just slide and be so free?
Today I found the answer. It was the hardwood floors. I’m sure of it because it happened to me today. There I was just minding my own business cleaning the apartment. Because we have no furniture our living room is pretty spacious. I was already in a worship mood so I just begin to dance. Not doing any dance in particular. Just dancing around and worshipping. In that very moment I thanked God for these hardwood floors that had lost their luster and shine ages ago. I felt free. I thought, “Wow I have the perfect floor to practice dance on.” What a blessing. Then I looked at my hallway. It’s stupid long. We live in what’s considered a railroad apartment. They call them that because when you walk in there’s this never-ending hallway (that looks like a railroad) and it opens up to this space in the back that houses the living room/dining room and kitchen. As I looked at that hallway I realized, “Wow that’s the perfect hallway to practice turning.” It sounds crazy but I literally had an epiphany. I had been worrying about not having enough money to train here. That was my excuse for not being in dance class every waking moment. Money. But in that moment God took that excuse away. I didn’t need money to train. Street dancers train where they can and I determined I would do this to. It was as if the Lord had taken away all my excuses.
It’s difficult to explain but for the longest I’ve known that dance is supposed to be more of a priority in my life. In a sense I’ve never pushed myself to really dance. I’ve always relied on my natural talent. But I’m at the point where more is required of me and I know that. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. My best friend Tonee asked me a question yesterday that really got to me. He asked when was the last time I had choreographed. I will admit it had been a while. I knew what he was getting to. I didn’t need mirrors, a spring floor and teacher to do what God had placed in me before I was even born.
So today I made the declaration to decide to succeed in dance. No excuses. Dance is a part of who I am and I can’t get away from who I really am. No matter how hard I try.
Today I found the answer. It was the hardwood floors. I’m sure of it because it happened to me today. There I was just minding my own business cleaning the apartment. Because we have no furniture our living room is pretty spacious. I was already in a worship mood so I just begin to dance. Not doing any dance in particular. Just dancing around and worshipping. In that very moment I thanked God for these hardwood floors that had lost their luster and shine ages ago. I felt free. I thought, “Wow I have the perfect floor to practice dance on.” What a blessing. Then I looked at my hallway. It’s stupid long. We live in what’s considered a railroad apartment. They call them that because when you walk in there’s this never-ending hallway (that looks like a railroad) and it opens up to this space in the back that houses the living room/dining room and kitchen. As I looked at that hallway I realized, “Wow that’s the perfect hallway to practice turning.” It sounds crazy but I literally had an epiphany. I had been worrying about not having enough money to train here. That was my excuse for not being in dance class every waking moment. Money. But in that moment God took that excuse away. I didn’t need money to train. Street dancers train where they can and I determined I would do this to. It was as if the Lord had taken away all my excuses.
It’s difficult to explain but for the longest I’ve known that dance is supposed to be more of a priority in my life. In a sense I’ve never pushed myself to really dance. I’ve always relied on my natural talent. But I’m at the point where more is required of me and I know that. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. My best friend Tonee asked me a question yesterday that really got to me. He asked when was the last time I had choreographed. I will admit it had been a while. I knew what he was getting to. I didn’t need mirrors, a spring floor and teacher to do what God had placed in me before I was even born.
So today I made the declaration to decide to succeed in dance. No excuses. Dance is a part of who I am and I can’t get away from who I really am. No matter how hard I try.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Random Side Notes and Observations
This blog isn’t chronological. As I see random things I can’t explain I will post them. Feel free to give your opinion.
1) Why is it that when I lived in Granada Hills I woke up to trees and birds but here my view is that of the man in the building across from me showering? Literally.
2) Why will it be a million degrees with humidity here and then five minutes later break out in a storm with thunder so loud it makes you jump?
3) Why do people think it’s ok to get on the subway sans deodorant? Is there a Godly way to tell a stranger that their smell is burning my nostril hairs?
4) Why do unemployed people at the career center get irritated about how long they have to wait for free services? One, it’s free and two where do you have to go? You’re unemployed.
5) Fat Joe not so fat in person. He should just call himself Joe.
1) Why is it that when I lived in Granada Hills I woke up to trees and birds but here my view is that of the man in the building across from me showering? Literally.
2) Why will it be a million degrees with humidity here and then five minutes later break out in a storm with thunder so loud it makes you jump?
3) Why do people think it’s ok to get on the subway sans deodorant? Is there a Godly way to tell a stranger that their smell is burning my nostril hairs?
4) Why do unemployed people at the career center get irritated about how long they have to wait for free services? One, it’s free and two where do you have to go? You’re unemployed.
5) Fat Joe not so fat in person. He should just call himself Joe.
Apartment Before Pictures
Okay these are before pictures of our apartment. I can't send after pictures because I have to wait until after we get money to fix this place up. This is how it was when we came.
Sunday, August 3, 2008 The Adventure of the Church I will Never Return To
Ok so one of the most difficult things I have encountered here is trying to find a quality church to plug in to. One that doesn’t do all of that typical stuff that makes people not want to go to church. You know what I’m talking about. The list is too long to even mention.
So this morning I got up ready to take on the challenge of finding a new church. I was ready. Bible in hand, journal in hand. Let’s go. I know it may take a minute to find a church that suits me so every week I will be highlighting the church I attended. So as not to defame any churches or make anyone look bad I am choosing to leave out the name of this church.
So Jaime and I walk in and we are greeted. So far so good. The usher seats us. Great. No one is wearing stockings. Awesome. So we sit and wait for church to start and we begin to cry. Crying because it’s not our old church. Because the expectations that we have are so high it will be hard for any church to ever really meet them.
Church begins and I’m just happy to be there. I’m singing and worshipping and just when I finally feel like I’m connecting with God the first lady gets up to do announcements. It was so anti-climatic. They sang two songs and they didn’t even draw each song out for thirty minutes like most black praise and worship leaders do. I felt like my spirit was running free no cares in the world and then ran into a brick wall. I was pissed. So I cried because I knew praise and worship wasn’t supposed to be over and I was supposed to get more, but ok moving on.
Then they wanted to know who the first time visitors were and I so didn’t want to stand but we did and they shook our hand blah blah blah. I felt a little weird at this point but it only grows awkward from here.
They start doing communion and the pastor begins quoting scriptures. Naturally, I open my Bible to read along but find that the scriptures he is citing don’t exist. I begin to think maybe I’m just crazy and because I have the amplified maybe it reads differently. As I look at Jaime her face looks confused too. I think maybe we are both crazy, but he does this three or four more times. Then I think well maybe he has some special edition of the bible that hasn’t hit the streets yet and only pastors have access to it because clearly these scriptures don’t exist in any Bible written up until this point. So now I’m really confused. I’m looking around like is anyone else catching this, but they were eating it up. Then he starts telling people that if they’re not saved and took communion they would die prematurely. What? But it gets worse.
Then we get to offering and they make this big deal about it and start jumping and dancing around like a bunch of coons and by now we are both disgusted and he hasn’t even gotten to the word yet.
So instead of dragging this out let me just tell you random things that were said throughout the course of the rest of the service…
“Bow your head and close your eyes. Nobody move or speak while the man of God is praying.” So if I had to sneeze would I go to hell?
“If you have an ailment or sickness come forward so I can lay hands on you and you can be healed. I can minister to you.” So if you don’t lay hands on me would I not be healed?
“You should follow Apostle _____________ and do what he does. You should want to be like him. I watch everything he does and try to be like him, but I don’t follow any man.” One you just contradicted yourself. Two, he told us we should follow this Apostle at least five more times and I was wondering if he was going to advise us to follow him in the woods and drink the red Kool-Aid next.
“As you push me up you go up! Why don’t you want to push your pastor up? Asking why does he drive this type of car, live in this type of house and wear these type of clothes. When you stop me you’re stopping yourself.” So when you shop at Bloomingdales, does that fill the bellies of the hungry people in your congregation?
Now in no way am I saying that this Pastor or the church is bad. This was just my experience and hey maybe it was just a bad Sunday. Maybe he doesn’t say all those things that could be deemed ignorant on a regular basis. I guess I will never know because I will never go to that church again!
So this morning I got up ready to take on the challenge of finding a new church. I was ready. Bible in hand, journal in hand. Let’s go. I know it may take a minute to find a church that suits me so every week I will be highlighting the church I attended. So as not to defame any churches or make anyone look bad I am choosing to leave out the name of this church.
So Jaime and I walk in and we are greeted. So far so good. The usher seats us. Great. No one is wearing stockings. Awesome. So we sit and wait for church to start and we begin to cry. Crying because it’s not our old church. Because the expectations that we have are so high it will be hard for any church to ever really meet them.
Church begins and I’m just happy to be there. I’m singing and worshipping and just when I finally feel like I’m connecting with God the first lady gets up to do announcements. It was so anti-climatic. They sang two songs and they didn’t even draw each song out for thirty minutes like most black praise and worship leaders do. I felt like my spirit was running free no cares in the world and then ran into a brick wall. I was pissed. So I cried because I knew praise and worship wasn’t supposed to be over and I was supposed to get more, but ok moving on.
Then they wanted to know who the first time visitors were and I so didn’t want to stand but we did and they shook our hand blah blah blah. I felt a little weird at this point but it only grows awkward from here.
They start doing communion and the pastor begins quoting scriptures. Naturally, I open my Bible to read along but find that the scriptures he is citing don’t exist. I begin to think maybe I’m just crazy and because I have the amplified maybe it reads differently. As I look at Jaime her face looks confused too. I think maybe we are both crazy, but he does this three or four more times. Then I think well maybe he has some special edition of the bible that hasn’t hit the streets yet and only pastors have access to it because clearly these scriptures don’t exist in any Bible written up until this point. So now I’m really confused. I’m looking around like is anyone else catching this, but they were eating it up. Then he starts telling people that if they’re not saved and took communion they would die prematurely. What? But it gets worse.
Then we get to offering and they make this big deal about it and start jumping and dancing around like a bunch of coons and by now we are both disgusted and he hasn’t even gotten to the word yet.
So instead of dragging this out let me just tell you random things that were said throughout the course of the rest of the service…
“Bow your head and close your eyes. Nobody move or speak while the man of God is praying.” So if I had to sneeze would I go to hell?
“If you have an ailment or sickness come forward so I can lay hands on you and you can be healed. I can minister to you.” So if you don’t lay hands on me would I not be healed?
“You should follow Apostle _____________ and do what he does. You should want to be like him. I watch everything he does and try to be like him, but I don’t follow any man.” One you just contradicted yourself. Two, he told us we should follow this Apostle at least five more times and I was wondering if he was going to advise us to follow him in the woods and drink the red Kool-Aid next.
“As you push me up you go up! Why don’t you want to push your pastor up? Asking why does he drive this type of car, live in this type of house and wear these type of clothes. When you stop me you’re stopping yourself.” So when you shop at Bloomingdales, does that fill the bellies of the hungry people in your congregation?
Now in no way am I saying that this Pastor or the church is bad. This was just my experience and hey maybe it was just a bad Sunday. Maybe he doesn’t say all those things that could be deemed ignorant on a regular basis. I guess I will never know because I will never go to that church again!
Friday, August 8, 2008
Saturday, August 2, 2008 The Day I began to dance again
Nothing new to really report today. I took my first dance class since I’ve been here and it was such a relief. I didn’t know how bad I needed it. All these months I have been frustrated, confused, hurt, etc. and never had a real physical outlet to release. And in that moment I realized I needed and dance just as much as it needed me. So though I may hate the politics and certain aspects of the dance world I realize its necessity in my life and never again will I put it on the backburner.
7/29/08 Are you Trying to Kill Me?
I never thought I was a woman of considerably low patience, but I must be. I have to be. Because it seems as if Jesus has dropped me right dab center of the place that would test your patience to no end. I mean in the beginning you have to hold yourself together. I understand how you could come here and lose yourself.
So here I am day two on this temp job and I’m determined to not complain and make it work. Determined! So I get there and it was a little less boring because I got to shred paper…all day. That’s fine because it’s better than just sitting but what a waste of my skills. So once again I’m asking God, “Am I in your will?” “What am I doing here?”
It was a pretty boring day. In between shredding did I mention that the president of the company chewed me out and brought me to tears…over the phone…because I pronounced a company’s name wrong. I mean literally I said one syllable wrong. I put the emphasis on the wrong part of the word. He lost it. Started going off about how I’ve been spelling and mispronouncing everything and he began to site things I never did. I finally said I didn’t know what he was talking about. Then he said, “Oh who is this?” Mind you this is all over phone and he is maybe thirty feet from me in his office. When I said Desiree he replied, “Oh. I thought you were _________________.” He reprimanded the wrong person. I was so heated. But I took a deep breath and attributed my tears to PMS. He later apologized stating he can’t see who he’s talking to through the phone. Business Lesson #1: Anyone with enough tenacity can start a successful business. You don’t have to be smart. Just surround yourself with smart people. Needless to say I never saw that other receptionist again.
That’s not the kicker though. Here’s where it gets highly interesting. To my knowledge you can’t smoke in building in New York. Yet this dude smokes in his office…with the door open. Maybe he thinks that because the fumes are semi invisible that they don’t exist and I somehow can’t get cancer or that it’s a new unscented cigarette where you can’t smell it. It’s like those people who fart with no noise (aka Silent but Deadly) and think you don’t know or those people who pick their noses in their cars oblivious to all the people totally grossed out. News flash…we see and smell all of you.
Needless to say I went home very sick and had to lie down because I was so nauseous and had a serious headache. Plus it didn’t help my asthma at all.
So here I am day two on this temp job and I’m determined to not complain and make it work. Determined! So I get there and it was a little less boring because I got to shred paper…all day. That’s fine because it’s better than just sitting but what a waste of my skills. So once again I’m asking God, “Am I in your will?” “What am I doing here?”
It was a pretty boring day. In between shredding did I mention that the president of the company chewed me out and brought me to tears…over the phone…because I pronounced a company’s name wrong. I mean literally I said one syllable wrong. I put the emphasis on the wrong part of the word. He lost it. Started going off about how I’ve been spelling and mispronouncing everything and he began to site things I never did. I finally said I didn’t know what he was talking about. Then he said, “Oh who is this?” Mind you this is all over phone and he is maybe thirty feet from me in his office. When I said Desiree he replied, “Oh. I thought you were _________________.” He reprimanded the wrong person. I was so heated. But I took a deep breath and attributed my tears to PMS. He later apologized stating he can’t see who he’s talking to through the phone. Business Lesson #1: Anyone with enough tenacity can start a successful business. You don’t have to be smart. Just surround yourself with smart people. Needless to say I never saw that other receptionist again.
That’s not the kicker though. Here’s where it gets highly interesting. To my knowledge you can’t smoke in building in New York. Yet this dude smokes in his office…with the door open. Maybe he thinks that because the fumes are semi invisible that they don’t exist and I somehow can’t get cancer or that it’s a new unscented cigarette where you can’t smell it. It’s like those people who fart with no noise (aka Silent but Deadly) and think you don’t know or those people who pick their noses in their cars oblivious to all the people totally grossed out. News flash…we see and smell all of you.
Needless to say I went home very sick and had to lie down because I was so nauseous and had a serious headache. Plus it didn’t help my asthma at all.
Wednesday July 23 Free Mandela
This morning we woke up to find that we had an unwanted visitor. A guest who had somehow made his way into our apartment without our knowledge. He didn’t knock on the door. He simply came in. He is a little small for his age. Michael Jackson would’ve referred to him as Ben. I affectionately named him Roger. Yes people we have a mouse. Not a rat like Michael had but a rodent nonetheless. He wasn’t even New York size. You know rats that look like cats. He was a regular California mouse. I didn’t actually see Roger, but Jaime did and apparently he startled her. He must go. He cannot stay. It’s already crowded enough here…
Today I took a train. I literally picked a train and got on it. It didn’t matter my destination because I had an unlimited metrocard so it wasn’t going to cost me any more or less to get lost. I dared not pull out my subway map lest I look like a tourist and have someone try to jack me for my metrocard. How many of you guys are so jealous that I only have to pay $81 to ride public transportation for the month?
Eventually I ended up on 135th street home of the Schoenberg Library. It’s this beautiful historic library that chronicles the lives of African Americans. Two stops uptown on the subway was this little piece of history. This little treasure. Amidst the people, dirt and noise stood this little relic. As I walked through I was so filled with pride. It was just such an awesome feeling to be able to experience this. Now I know in LA we have the African American Museum but honestly I’ve never been. It was too far and inconvenient to drive to, but what I love about New York is that you are inundated with culture whether you like it or not in such a small contained space. It’s awesome.
So I’m walking through this museum and they have this whole photography exhibit on Nelson Mandela. This one photographer had chronicled much of Mandela’s political life. Two things were particularly interesting to me. The first was that Mandela is like a million feet tall. I mean he looks tall on television, but this dude is really tall. Second, I saw pictures of him when he wasn’t old. You know those people who have just been old your whole life? Like Morgan Freeman. Think about it. That dude is old. He was probably old before I was born. Oh and I remember when they talked about Mandela in Sarafina and he was old then. Just old and old. So it was cool to see him un-old. But through these pictures I felt like I knew this man. Though our paths will probably never cross and if they do he will be old for that moment I knew him. I felt so compelled to leave with this history that I bought two books. One was a photography book filled with pictures of old black people. It was in black and white and celebrated age. The second was a lost novel from the Harlem renaissance era, which is my favorite time period. So I grabbed my history and headed to Marshalls.
It was such a good day until I got home and heard terrible news. Ya’ll Sofia from The Golden Girls had died. I was devastated. I love that show and anytime it’s on and I’m home I will watch it. It’s like the best show ever. And Sofia was my dog. Her sarcasm reminded me of someone...I just can’t put my finger on it. I mean I know that her death doesn’t mean the end of The Golden Girls because it’s definitely in syndication but still. The crazy part is that most people don’t even know she wasn’t the oldest one on the show. I did learn a new word from this. Octogenarian. It’s someone in their eighties. Pretty cool huh? I love words.
Today I took a train. I literally picked a train and got on it. It didn’t matter my destination because I had an unlimited metrocard so it wasn’t going to cost me any more or less to get lost. I dared not pull out my subway map lest I look like a tourist and have someone try to jack me for my metrocard. How many of you guys are so jealous that I only have to pay $81 to ride public transportation for the month?
Eventually I ended up on 135th street home of the Schoenberg Library. It’s this beautiful historic library that chronicles the lives of African Americans. Two stops uptown on the subway was this little piece of history. This little treasure. Amidst the people, dirt and noise stood this little relic. As I walked through I was so filled with pride. It was just such an awesome feeling to be able to experience this. Now I know in LA we have the African American Museum but honestly I’ve never been. It was too far and inconvenient to drive to, but what I love about New York is that you are inundated with culture whether you like it or not in such a small contained space. It’s awesome.
So I’m walking through this museum and they have this whole photography exhibit on Nelson Mandela. This one photographer had chronicled much of Mandela’s political life. Two things were particularly interesting to me. The first was that Mandela is like a million feet tall. I mean he looks tall on television, but this dude is really tall. Second, I saw pictures of him when he wasn’t old. You know those people who have just been old your whole life? Like Morgan Freeman. Think about it. That dude is old. He was probably old before I was born. Oh and I remember when they talked about Mandela in Sarafina and he was old then. Just old and old. So it was cool to see him un-old. But through these pictures I felt like I knew this man. Though our paths will probably never cross and if they do he will be old for that moment I knew him. I felt so compelled to leave with this history that I bought two books. One was a photography book filled with pictures of old black people. It was in black and white and celebrated age. The second was a lost novel from the Harlem renaissance era, which is my favorite time period. So I grabbed my history and headed to Marshalls.
It was such a good day until I got home and heard terrible news. Ya’ll Sofia from The Golden Girls had died. I was devastated. I love that show and anytime it’s on and I’m home I will watch it. It’s like the best show ever. And Sofia was my dog. Her sarcasm reminded me of someone...I just can’t put my finger on it. I mean I know that her death doesn’t mean the end of The Golden Girls because it’s definitely in syndication but still. The crazy part is that most people don’t even know she wasn’t the oldest one on the show. I did learn a new word from this. Octogenarian. It’s someone in their eighties. Pretty cool huh? I love words.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
7/18/08 Night on the Town Subtitle: demographics of a Club
Captain’s Log. Just kidding. Ok so the Mayor calls us up and tells us to come down to the club he owns and everything will be taken care of. So we figured why not? Jaime and I wanted to gather up a posse so we could roll deep and realized we had no posse. Bummer. I miss my friends. Now, in general, I’m not a club girl. There’s no fun in some nasty dude rubbing his pelvis all over you. It’s even less fun when you’re a dancer and you want everyone to move out the way when a certain song comes on so you can show off your moves. And by habit you find yourself snapping to catch the beat or saying 5, 6, 7, 8. Can you say loser? What is especially fun is to go and watch people. The dancing especially. Especially especially the dancing of clear* people. Clear people have a special rhythm and dance to a beat no one else can hear. So the majority of this blog is dedicated to what I observed that night at this club.
First let me take a moment to say that the club was beautiful and phenomenal. I’ll leave the name out as we cannot compromise the identity of the Mayor. It was cool because we didn’t have to wait in line and got to sit in a special section with red couches. Is this how famous people get treated? When I told the Mayor that the dj was terrible, he escorted me to the booth and I told them what I would like to hear and within ten minutes they had switched out djs. That was pretty awesome.
And now back to our regularly scheduled program. The demographics of a club. Every city, state, etc has its own culture. For instance, my block looks like it would be handpicked for a scene with Prince Akeem from Coming to America. All times of day and night it is like a party. Everyone is dressed up in their native garb from head to toe. Babies are carried on backs of mothers supported by nothing but material. They sing, dance and party. That’s the demographic of my block.
Clubs are no different.
For instance, you always have that one creepy guy who is just way too old to be in the club. You can spot him because he gives you a creepy feeling. He doesn’t dance. He just stands on the dance floor and stares. Every time you look up he seems to be closer to you and just appears to be everywhere. If you’re quiet I’m sure you can hear the music from the movie Psycho because that’s what he looks like.
Next, you always have that couple that forgot the club is a public place and not their Motel 6 room. So, they expose everyone in the place to their overly sexualized moves. Everyone at some point in time stops and stares with a dumbfounded look on their face. Go home
Oh and why do you get people who would never say the “N” word (to be politically correct) yell it out on every song and say it extra loud like it validates the fact that they’re cool. It reminds me of that scene from white chicks where because no one is around they start rapping the words and yelling the “N” word. Hilarious.
Then there’s the person who decides that over the deafening noise of the music they’re going to tell you their life story as if you care. These two Asian girls were hilarious. We could hardly understand a word they said because their English was terrible, but they wanted to tell us about their lives.
And isn’t there always the clear guy who is so excited that he gets to use his new move on the first black girl he sees? That night I was that girl. I’m sure that where moves like the sprinkler, the q tip and that move where you grab your leg and put your hand behind your head originated. Tonight was no different. It looked like he was doing some version of the C Walk but I’m not sure. Then he wants to take a picture with you to prove he knows a black person. Just like that I became his token black friend. By the way, I checked my sources and no black girls were harmed in the creation of those crazy dance moves past and present.
Wait. There’s always that one guy who is really good dancer. I don’t mean two stepping. No this guy is multi-talented. He can salsa, do hip hop, whatever. He looks good, he smells good and he draws you in. He is a dancer’s dream because you know he won’t be inappropriate with you. He just wants to dance. No funny stuff. But as he gets closer you notice he dances a little too well. He is dressed a little too nice. He knows the words to every song even Britney Spears. And you begin to wonder if he plays the tambourine or likes a little boy on boy action. Wait, did he just break his wrist? Oh no!!! Another one bites the dust. Dang!
Ok another commercial break. Did you know there’s this song out in Spanish to the tune of Father Abraham? And they played it in the club. Yes they did. So you know what we had to do? That’s right. Right arm, left arm, right foot, left foot. Ha ha. We definitely needed to be in a bible study not a club.
Two more things. Why does there have to be like five Kim Kardashian look alikes arguing about whose skirt is the shortest. Oh and “clear” is my mom’s term for anglo-saxons. So that’s what I meant by the clear guy. I’m out!!!
First let me take a moment to say that the club was beautiful and phenomenal. I’ll leave the name out as we cannot compromise the identity of the Mayor. It was cool because we didn’t have to wait in line and got to sit in a special section with red couches. Is this how famous people get treated? When I told the Mayor that the dj was terrible, he escorted me to the booth and I told them what I would like to hear and within ten minutes they had switched out djs. That was pretty awesome.
And now back to our regularly scheduled program. The demographics of a club. Every city, state, etc has its own culture. For instance, my block looks like it would be handpicked for a scene with Prince Akeem from Coming to America. All times of day and night it is like a party. Everyone is dressed up in their native garb from head to toe. Babies are carried on backs of mothers supported by nothing but material. They sing, dance and party. That’s the demographic of my block.
Clubs are no different.
For instance, you always have that one creepy guy who is just way too old to be in the club. You can spot him because he gives you a creepy feeling. He doesn’t dance. He just stands on the dance floor and stares. Every time you look up he seems to be closer to you and just appears to be everywhere. If you’re quiet I’m sure you can hear the music from the movie Psycho because that’s what he looks like.
Next, you always have that couple that forgot the club is a public place and not their Motel 6 room. So, they expose everyone in the place to their overly sexualized moves. Everyone at some point in time stops and stares with a dumbfounded look on their face. Go home
Oh and why do you get people who would never say the “N” word (to be politically correct) yell it out on every song and say it extra loud like it validates the fact that they’re cool. It reminds me of that scene from white chicks where because no one is around they start rapping the words and yelling the “N” word. Hilarious.
Then there’s the person who decides that over the deafening noise of the music they’re going to tell you their life story as if you care. These two Asian girls were hilarious. We could hardly understand a word they said because their English was terrible, but they wanted to tell us about their lives.
And isn’t there always the clear guy who is so excited that he gets to use his new move on the first black girl he sees? That night I was that girl. I’m sure that where moves like the sprinkler, the q tip and that move where you grab your leg and put your hand behind your head originated. Tonight was no different. It looked like he was doing some version of the C Walk but I’m not sure. Then he wants to take a picture with you to prove he knows a black person. Just like that I became his token black friend. By the way, I checked my sources and no black girls were harmed in the creation of those crazy dance moves past and present.
Wait. There’s always that one guy who is really good dancer. I don’t mean two stepping. No this guy is multi-talented. He can salsa, do hip hop, whatever. He looks good, he smells good and he draws you in. He is a dancer’s dream because you know he won’t be inappropriate with you. He just wants to dance. No funny stuff. But as he gets closer you notice he dances a little too well. He is dressed a little too nice. He knows the words to every song even Britney Spears. And you begin to wonder if he plays the tambourine or likes a little boy on boy action. Wait, did he just break his wrist? Oh no!!! Another one bites the dust. Dang!
Ok another commercial break. Did you know there’s this song out in Spanish to the tune of Father Abraham? And they played it in the club. Yes they did. So you know what we had to do? That’s right. Right arm, left arm, right foot, left foot. Ha ha. We definitely needed to be in a bible study not a club.
Two more things. Why does there have to be like five Kim Kardashian look alikes arguing about whose skirt is the shortest. Oh and “clear” is my mom’s term for anglo-saxons. So that’s what I meant by the clear guy. I’m out!!!
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Day One July 15, 2008
My first day in New York began as one of those days you don’t ever ever ever want to repeat. Ever. One of those days where you want to go back to sleep, wake up and hope something has changed. Sort of like Groundhog Day in reverse. To understand why it began so badly I have to give the backdrop.
For the past four days I was living the life of luxury. I booked a gig as a Dancer and Model for Clairol and was flown to Vegas. It was wonderful. They put us up in the Bellagio which is a gorgeous hotel, especially if you’ve never been to Vegas. It was hot as heck there but I would soon find that there was a heat that was much worse. I’m getting ahead of myself. So I had this wonderful time in Vegas. Got a makeover. Oh yeah my hair is now cut asymmetrically with red highlights. Looks pretty hot!!! Anyway, I fly back into LAX to wait four hours for my plane to New York to depart. Even that couldn’t dampen my spirits. It was a red eye flight meaning I would step off the plane funky. I was so excited to fly Virgin America because it had all these cool amenities, but the only thing I got to see were my eyelids blinking.
So Jaime and I arrive in New York tired and funky and a little out of sorts, but ok overall. We take a super shuttle to the apartment because there was no way we were braving the subway with our entire luggage. We arrive at our apartment on the fifth floor, open the door and my mind cussed. Not cussed like the little signals and signs but literally cussed.
Ok, so we are expecting to walk into an empty, clean apartment. Instead we walk into an apartment that looks like crap. Boxes everywhere. Dirty. I mean it was bad. Ok it may have not been terrible, but factor in the fact that we are exhausted and just want to take a shower and sleep and the state of the current apartment doesn’t allow us to do either. So we do what we know to do. Cry. We cried and cried and cried. And maybe you don’t understand why we were crying but it was just a lot. We just moved our entire life and it now looked like we didn’t have a place to lay our head that night. And we were dirty. Not to mention it was my birthday. This is how my 25th birthday started. So I called my mom…and cried. She cussed…and cried. It was a lot. But the day would look up…
To calm us down we decided to go get something to eat at Amy Ruth’s, a bootleg version of Roscoe’s Chicken N Waffles. We looked like two homeless transients. That’s probably an oxymoron but hey that’s how I felt. Jaime had a backpack on and this dang money mug (a coffee mug that holds a wad of money in a Ziploc) and I was walking down the streets of Harlem with a rolling suitcase. We were screaming “Rob us, please rob us.” So we eat. There was a table of men next to us that were seated as we were leaving. They struck up a conversation, so we chatted. We made jokes about needing someone to buff our hardwood floors and what do you know? One guy at the table was an electrician and the other two were general contractors. One of the guys was particularly nice, found out it was my birthday and wanted to take us to dinner. I honestly think he felt bad for us. We looked absolutely terrible. Now I know what you’re thinking. Don’t do it…this is crazy…they could be murderers…don’t do it…No!!!! So what do you think we did? Yep, we went. So let’s just skip to that portion of the day. Just know that at some point we did take the subway to Brooklyn (to Jaime’s friend’s house) and showered and napped…
So, we will just call this dude The Mayor of New York. Mayor for short. So we meet the mayor at Starbucks and he takes us to this really really nice restaurant downtown that one of his partners own. No not partner like a homie, but a business partner. Oh did I mention The Mayor has helped built a lot of Harlem, owns a few clubs and restaurants. Now just think about it. Our first meal in New York this is who we meet. Coincidence? I think not. So we think we are just going to a normal restaurant to eat. Oh no. We walked down two flights of stairs, through the kitchen and behind a red curtain into the wine cellar. That’s where we ate. A wine cellar with Russell Simmons at the table next to us. Not that I’m star struck but this is our first day in New York ya’ll. So they’re falling all over The Mayor taking his order. He ordered for us, but let’s just say that every mammal that ever existed was on that table. Duck, cow, pig, chicken, shrimp, fish, possum, chipmunk, Mongolian wolf chicken, everything. I mean it was good. Good. Some awesome food. We ate, chatted and went to sleep. We slept at Auntie Rae’s house and we were safe. If all that happened in one day then New York was going to be an interesting place. Until next time.
My first day in New York began as one of those days you don’t ever ever ever want to repeat. Ever. One of those days where you want to go back to sleep, wake up and hope something has changed. Sort of like Groundhog Day in reverse. To understand why it began so badly I have to give the backdrop.
For the past four days I was living the life of luxury. I booked a gig as a Dancer and Model for Clairol and was flown to Vegas. It was wonderful. They put us up in the Bellagio which is a gorgeous hotel, especially if you’ve never been to Vegas. It was hot as heck there but I would soon find that there was a heat that was much worse. I’m getting ahead of myself. So I had this wonderful time in Vegas. Got a makeover. Oh yeah my hair is now cut asymmetrically with red highlights. Looks pretty hot!!! Anyway, I fly back into LAX to wait four hours for my plane to New York to depart. Even that couldn’t dampen my spirits. It was a red eye flight meaning I would step off the plane funky. I was so excited to fly Virgin America because it had all these cool amenities, but the only thing I got to see were my eyelids blinking.
So Jaime and I arrive in New York tired and funky and a little out of sorts, but ok overall. We take a super shuttle to the apartment because there was no way we were braving the subway with our entire luggage. We arrive at our apartment on the fifth floor, open the door and my mind cussed. Not cussed like the little signals and signs but literally cussed.
Ok, so we are expecting to walk into an empty, clean apartment. Instead we walk into an apartment that looks like crap. Boxes everywhere. Dirty. I mean it was bad. Ok it may have not been terrible, but factor in the fact that we are exhausted and just want to take a shower and sleep and the state of the current apartment doesn’t allow us to do either. So we do what we know to do. Cry. We cried and cried and cried. And maybe you don’t understand why we were crying but it was just a lot. We just moved our entire life and it now looked like we didn’t have a place to lay our head that night. And we were dirty. Not to mention it was my birthday. This is how my 25th birthday started. So I called my mom…and cried. She cussed…and cried. It was a lot. But the day would look up…
To calm us down we decided to go get something to eat at Amy Ruth’s, a bootleg version of Roscoe’s Chicken N Waffles. We looked like two homeless transients. That’s probably an oxymoron but hey that’s how I felt. Jaime had a backpack on and this dang money mug (a coffee mug that holds a wad of money in a Ziploc) and I was walking down the streets of Harlem with a rolling suitcase. We were screaming “Rob us, please rob us.” So we eat. There was a table of men next to us that were seated as we were leaving. They struck up a conversation, so we chatted. We made jokes about needing someone to buff our hardwood floors and what do you know? One guy at the table was an electrician and the other two were general contractors. One of the guys was particularly nice, found out it was my birthday and wanted to take us to dinner. I honestly think he felt bad for us. We looked absolutely terrible. Now I know what you’re thinking. Don’t do it…this is crazy…they could be murderers…don’t do it…No!!!! So what do you think we did? Yep, we went. So let’s just skip to that portion of the day. Just know that at some point we did take the subway to Brooklyn (to Jaime’s friend’s house) and showered and napped…
So, we will just call this dude The Mayor of New York. Mayor for short. So we meet the mayor at Starbucks and he takes us to this really really nice restaurant downtown that one of his partners own. No not partner like a homie, but a business partner. Oh did I mention The Mayor has helped built a lot of Harlem, owns a few clubs and restaurants. Now just think about it. Our first meal in New York this is who we meet. Coincidence? I think not. So we think we are just going to a normal restaurant to eat. Oh no. We walked down two flights of stairs, through the kitchen and behind a red curtain into the wine cellar. That’s where we ate. A wine cellar with Russell Simmons at the table next to us. Not that I’m star struck but this is our first day in New York ya’ll. So they’re falling all over The Mayor taking his order. He ordered for us, but let’s just say that every mammal that ever existed was on that table. Duck, cow, pig, chicken, shrimp, fish, possum, chipmunk, Mongolian wolf chicken, everything. I mean it was good. Good. Some awesome food. We ate, chatted and went to sleep. We slept at Auntie Rae’s house and we were safe. If all that happened in one day then New York was going to be an interesting place. Until next time.
Intro
Intro
Caveat…..Because I have moved 3,000 miles away and have officially become a New Yorker, I wanted a way to chronicle and highlight the highs and lows of my experience without rehashing the same stories over and over to all 500 of my friends. Hence, my blog Saved in Tha City was created. Yes I know that’s not how you spell “the” but Saved in the City was taken. What can I say? Anyway, please do not expect this blog to be grammatically or politically correct. I write and type what I’m feeling which can change depending on how hot it is here. Do expect it to be very honest and possibly humorous and sarcastic. Hey you know me. So please enjoy and pass it on if you feel so inclined. I love you all and sorry if I haven’t called, emailed or texted you but moving to a new place is a huge transition.
Caveat…..Because I have moved 3,000 miles away and have officially become a New Yorker, I wanted a way to chronicle and highlight the highs and lows of my experience without rehashing the same stories over and over to all 500 of my friends. Hence, my blog Saved in Tha City was created. Yes I know that’s not how you spell “the” but Saved in the City was taken. What can I say? Anyway, please do not expect this blog to be grammatically or politically correct. I write and type what I’m feeling which can change depending on how hot it is here. Do expect it to be very honest and possibly humorous and sarcastic. Hey you know me. So please enjoy and pass it on if you feel so inclined. I love you all and sorry if I haven’t called, emailed or texted you but moving to a new place is a huge transition.
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