Tuesday, September 30, 2008
First, I didn't love or hate this movie. Nothing in the movie drew me in particularly. The little boy, while sweet, didn't do it. The relationship between the boy and the soldiers didn't do it. Lee didn't do a good job of making us understand why the statue head was significant for the soldier who carried it. I mean he found it in a ditch and decided to carry it. OK. What made him think it had special powers or some such? You get the sense that there's something mystical that Lee wants to convey, but it's never quite communicated. The spritual stuff is incoherent to me.
I guess for me, there was no there, there in Miracle at St. Anna.
I'd love to hear others' thoughts about the movie so feel free to share them.
**I chatted with Lee briefly a couple of years ago at the Peabody awards ceremony in NYC. A year-long project I ran won the award (along with many other awards, that was an exciting year!) and I trekked to the city with my team to accept. Anyways, Lee is really short and I say this as a woman who is barely 5 ft tall. Zach Braff was there, too, as well as some of the Friday Night Lights actors. OK, that's my brush with fame/namedropping story of the day!
Monday, September 29, 2008
I have always been nosey, according to my Grandma. She says send me to get something from another room and then 10 minutes later when I haven't returned, go see what I'm doing: I'm likely elbow deep in some dresser drawer that has nothing to do with what I went in there to get.
I try not to be that way -- I DO! But what happens is I'll go in the room to get the thing and then I'll see a corner of something else and say, hmmm, what's that? And then, I start pursuing that forgetting why I'm there and then it's 10 minutes later. Oops.
The worst case of this is when I went to get a towel out of a boyfriend's drawer one time and then for some reason opened another drawer and then I was in all the drawers and he came in the room (scaring the beejeebus out of me) with an odd look on his face and I was like, umm, I was getting a towel? I couldn't even EXPLAIN why I was in that man's underwear drawer. I just was. LOL!
I'm the same way on the Internet. I will google folks to see what else I can learn about them, not because I particularly care, but just because I am nosey. So I apologize in advance for googling you. runs to the google to start entering names and search strings
Sunday, September 28, 2008
“I’m a big fan of Jay-Z, but outside of the States and Hip Hop circles, no one really knew who he was until he married Beyonce.”Jay-Z ought to pimpslap Fitty's ignantazz in the middle of 125th and St. Nick, then step over him and keep it moving like he had swatted a fly. Fitty WISHES he had skills like Shawn Carter instead of the incoherent mumbling of school yard-level rhymes he does on the mic. And don't hate on Shawn/Jay-Z/Jigga man cause he locked down the baddest chick in hip-hop next to Mary J. Blige. (I should note here Jay-Z would be my star crush if it weren't for Idris Elba permanently filling that space).
**I return to my regular stance on the n-word after this slippage.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
I hate westerns, but I credit my love of the movie partly to Newman, who also stars in many of my other favorite movies, including Cool Hand Luke, Road to Perdition, The Hudsucker Proxy, Blaze, The Sting (sorry no video), What a Way to Go!, A New Kind of Love, From the Terrace, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and The Long, Hot Summer (again, no video).
Newman was a great actor, who used his fame in an altruistic manner, while also staying married to the same woman for 50 years. He will be remembered.
My mama went with me back in August 1987 and helped me open that bank account. It's been my account through moves to various cities and states. It's the account I used in college. It's been my account through the poor years and when I was flush. Before I got married I told my husband that we could open a new joint account, but I would not be closing that account. I know the account number by heart! I've had the same PIN for 20 years!
Why Wachovia?! Why did you have to take over my little First Union? Sigh.
Friday, September 26, 2008
I sent an email to three people and the first line in it said, "I don't have X information." Two people responded to my email (one called!!) asking, "do you have X information?"
I had to repeat the same thing I had sent them in the initial email that prompted the call/email reply.
Jesus take the wheel.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
This is her fifth child (only her second with my brother-in-law) and they didn't want any more. But at the end of the day she decided she couldn't do it, so now there is another little one on the way.
This makes the second woman I know up close and personal (see this post) who didn't want kids (or want more kids) that is pregnant "on accident."
Meanwhile, I remain on the sofa on mandatory bedrest after having a frozen embryo transferred into my uterus in a last attempt to make a biological dad out of Mr. SingLikeSassy.
I've decided being bitter about how easily these two ladies -- who didn't want kids (or want more kids) -- got pregnant is both a waste of energy and just makes me ugly inside. Plus, I honestly don't feel that way. OK, maybe for a teeeny tiny second I went there, but I snatched myself back before the rot, evil and bile settled in.
On a lighter note, sis-in-law was saying this morning that as she put a sweater Mr. SingLikeSassy had given his 2-year-old niece one Christmas on her, niece asked who gave her the sweater and when she heard it was from Uncle Mr. SingLikeSassy she said "I LIKE HIM!"
He said it's something to keep me occupied while I lay on this sofa bored and waiting on my friends to get home from work so I can call and chatter on the cell.
:::blowing recorder and wishing I could march around the house like a kid:::
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Here's an excerpt from one of her posts:
"Well, I probably shouldn't say this ... (and we all know when someone prefaces a comment with that statement, some bullshit is about to follow) but what if (another colleague's name and another colleague's name) and I came to the office one day in blackface."Yep, lots of fodder there for interesting Interwebz conversation.
I can't even begin to describe what my expression was at that point, but you know how it is when you twist your face in that "what the fuck????" kind of way? Well, that's what I did.
So I said, "And why would you do that?? Oh, I see; to make me feel like there are other black people around me?" -- Isolated Black Prof
The other night I was out with some people and was one of two black people in a group of about 25. There were no other people of color and I didn't know the other black person. It didn't bother me at all.
It's always struck me as odd that in a city populated with so many black people my friend/social circle would be dominated by white people. It's not like I've been surrounded by white people all my life with no access to black people outside of my family. There were no white people in my neighorhood growing up. My high school's nickname included the word "chocolate" in it. I attended an HBCU and I'm a member of a black greek-lettered organization.
But I've just bonded more in this city with people who don't look like me, whether it's common interests or just personalities meshing well. I guess.
On a random note, I am reminded of the time a former newspaper I worked for kept taking the newsroom staff group pic over and over because they couldn't get all five of the black people in place at photo time (um, hello, we were out REPORTING. There is no news in the newsroom!) and they wanted to use this photo in recruitment materials for the major media company that owned the paper. We were all finally ordered by the executive editor to show up and be in this picture.
Which also reminds me that my current employer is the only one I have worked for that is diverse enough that I wasn't called on to recruit at the journalism conferences this summer. First time in 10 years.
Anyways, I'll give you a review -- good or bad -- in a few days.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Thursday, September 18, 2008
-- Marc Fisher, Washington Post
Bad guy with gun tells you to get in the car, and you're prepared to say, "No, my good sir, I would rather die here in the parking lot than accompany you on your journey of illicit activities?"
Unlike the delestrogen shots, the progesterone shots are administered every day, hurt like hell and caused bruises and big lumps last time I had to do them. I am not looking forward to starting them, but I'll do what I gotta do.
But just to reiterate, I feel much more relaxed this cycle. Work (thank goodness) has been low stress lately, I'm otherwise healthy (need some sleep though) and despite the turmoil in the markets, our money is OK.
It's going to work this time, I know it.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Normally I would have dealt with it and we would have resolved it and moved on. Unfortunately, I'm on infertility drugs. Hormone-related infertility drugs. Yep, you guessed it, I went on a crying jag -- you know the kind where you can barely catch your breath -- and screamed something about wanting a divorce that caused a stricken look on his face that I, even in my drug-induced craze, recognized as fear.
For the rest of the evening and next day he set about trying to fix it. Boy you should have seen him. That man was apologizing and kissing and hugging and running around this house like a madman. And, I have to admit, I was over it once the drugs eased off and knew I had overreacted but...I kinda liked that he would try so hard to make things right with us so I didn't immediately call the all clear.
But I didn't carry it too far 'cause I figured it wouldn't be long before he remembered that even sans drugs I'm fairly pollo loco and that he is in the catbird seat because, being sane, he could get another wife. I, being crazy, better hang on to him for dear life.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Totally unexpected but left me smiling all day long.
That's what I wrote on my old blog when I got home from our first date.
Monday, January 23, 2006
My date with the jazz musician....
Wow. That's all I can say. Wow.
But the greatest part is we've been happy this past year. I hear stories about people not being able to adjust to living together for the first time or finding out something about their mate they didn't know before the "I DOs" and I am thankful that we haven't had those issues.
Don't get me wrong, there were little stumbles along the way. We both were stubborn about where to live -- his house or mine -- but we resolved that issue after I got my new job earlier this year.
We also started off our marriage with Mr. SingLikeSassy unexpectedly still on part-time status with the school district (he had gone part-time the year before so that he could go to grad school fulltime and finish his master's program), which meant half the salary, but not half the bills. That could have been a problem for some, but my husband got up everyday with his instrument, went out and made some (LEGAL!) money. It wasn't a lot of cash, but it helped with groceries and the smaller bills and I appreciated the effort he put in and his concern about me having to pay bills in his house while still maintaining mine. I'm just thankful that in this shaky economy I earned enough to do it comfortably. As soon as he was restored to fulltime status he refused to let me pay any more bills in the house he owns. My job is to take care of the house I own and build up our savings.
In any case, I'm glad I went out that Sunday night. Mr. SingLikeSassy wasn't my usual "type," but I met him during my "date anyone who asks and just have a good time" period. I stepped outside the box and was rewarded tenfold. That one date changed my whole life -- so take heed those of you who want a relationship and don't have it yet.
The other night we reflected on our best memory from the past year. I think it's important to remember those good times and celebrate them -- so that we have those to hold on to when hard times set in, as they do in any marriage. It's a tradition we will do every anniversary from now on.
And today I sent him some flowers. He's always bringing/sending me flowers so I thought I'd surprise him with some for a change. The note with them says, "As great as this first year has been, I know our best years are still ahead of us. Thank you for being a wonderful husband and friend. Until later, Mrs. SingLikeSassy."
Second anniversary, here we come!
Sunday, September 14, 2008
The show's name -- The View -- is derived from point-of-view which means those random chicks blather on about whatever is the topic of the day. It's like this blog except with more people talking and they are on television with an audience and get paid. The format of the show is set up so they can all yell over each other with their "views" on a particular topic. Why would anyone with good damn sense expect them to have fair and balanced opinions???!!
And this is what REAAAAALLLLLLYYYYYYY makes my ass itch. If people don't have the sense God gave a cat to figure out that this is not a news show, those women are not journalists -- and with the exception of Barbara Walters have never been journalists -- and they are all just prattling on about nothing (during the first five minutes the pendulum can swing from bra fittings to Fannie Mae), how in hell can they sort through the issues and choose a presidential candidate??! That's why we're talking about lipstick and hockey moms instead of the economy and war in Iraq.
Lord save me from fools.
Posted on Sep 5, 2008 10:46 AM
“The item in today’s Drudge Report is categorically untrue. There has been absolutely no discussion about having Sarah Palin on my show. At the beginning of this presidential campaign when I decided that I was going to take my first public stance in support of a candidate, I made the decision not to use my show as a platform for any of the candidates. I agree that Sarah Palin would be a fantastic interview, and I would love to have her on after the campaign is over.” – Oprah Winfrey, September 5, 2008
I don't understand why people are worked up about this issue. It's Oprah's show. She said she's not having candidates on, it's her decision to make and frankly, she's made $1 billion based on her decisions. And be real ladies, Oprah is a television personality not a journalist, so she's not asking Palin any hard questions. What would an appearance on her show mean anyways, another chance to see her husband and family? What does that have to do with being vice president?
I also did not understand the people who felt Oprah should support Hillary Clinton because she was a woman. Last time I checked, Oprah could support whomever she liked for the presidency. Since when did she owe her support and one vote to women?
It's LOLtastic to me the people who call Oprah racist over her support of Obama given that many in the black community think Oprah is a sellout who panders to white women.
And as long as I'm grousing, when did being a mother make you qualified to run these United States of America? (This is not a knock on Palin, but rather a knock on these stupid chicks on The View. Watch the whole clip). I can see people agreeing with her politics and pointing to her political background as a reason to vote for her and McCain, but any chick with working parts and no birth control can make 5 babies. If that is the basis people are using to make their decisions, then why not just go down to the 'hood and snatch up somebody with 5 kids and let them be veep?
Have I left this world and entered another where reason and logic don't exist?
Saturday, September 13, 2008
But rather than look at it negatively, I will reflect on the fact that I only have to do the shots once every three days and I at least have figured out how my body responds to it so I can prepare.
I'd also like to note that work has been great recently and rather than being stressed out, I have looked forward to going to work in the morning. I'm prayerful that what I was experiencing was new kid on the block transitional struggles.
We laughed because it was raining -- and it rained the Friday night before we got married, too. I was telling him how I went to bed really bummed that night because I thought we would have to move the wedding inside and I really didn't want that and he noted that the sun came out and dried it all up and everything was perfect. And he's right. It was. Sigh.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Read the full posting on FreeMan Press.
"I am hard pressed to find anyone my age who isn’t trying to act like they are 21. Everyone wants to go and party like they don’t have to go to work tomorrow. Everyone wants to smoke weed, drink and have sex with everyone like there are no consequences to their actions. Everyone’s wardrobe is some kind of teenage mix of some blue jeans with a french cuff pink dress shirt capped off with a sports blazer capped and don’t forget some skittle colored Air Force Ones!. People are still getting tattoos and piercings well into their 30’s. Grown Men are playing John Madden seriously like it is a get rich seminar. Vivica Fox had plastic surgery, Puffy cut his hair into a Mohawk, Kanye dresses like a bull fighter, Cube still wears Chucks, Common looks like a skateboarder with a suit, Steve Harvey has us wearing Cab Calloway suits and my Barber still drag races his car at the street races!"
Sunday, September 7, 2008
I came to D.C. determined to have a different kind of relationship with a different kind of dude. I met a couple of guys and went on some dates, but no one who took my mind off of the attorney.
Then I met Caribbean guy. One of my sorority sisters had come to visit and we went to the club. This guy asked me to dance and then hung out with me for the night. When my girl and I decided to move on to the next spot, he asked for my number. I gave it to him and a couple of days later he called. We laughed and joked and discovered we lived down the street from each other. When he asked me on a date to a Wizards game that weekend, I said sure.
We went to the game, which was fun, but because I had moved here from the South, I didn't know what "winter" was, so when we were leaving my coat was open and I had nothing on my head. Caribbean guy stopped and zipped up my coat, tucking me in. I was smitten. Many times in the four years we dated off and on I would think back to that moment and wish he had never touched my coat. That one gesture set us off on a journey we might have otherwise avoided.
Caribbean guy was different from other men I had dated. One, he was Caribbean. Where I grew up down South people were black and white. Not much diversity of ethnicity or culture there. Also, I come from a pretty solidly middle class family where I was raised to follow a traditional path: go to college, start a career, get married to some upwardly mobile man from a good family and have kids.
Caribbean guy grew up closer to the struggle. His hardworking blue-collar family had never owned or lived in a house while he was growing up. Everyone in my family of professionals and entrepreneurs had owned their homes for as long as I could remember. His parents hadn't gone to college. My parents have four degrees between them. He had joined the military after high school, then gone to college because he wanted to pursue a career in a field where he needed traditional credentials. I went straight from high school to college, the military never an option. Mr. Caribbean prided himself on being humble. I had/have entitlement issues.
Now, I know you're reading that thinking, well, so what? I said "so what?" too, because I didn't realize then how much your background and experiences impacted the way you approached life. Up until then, I had been dating men with backgrounds similar to mine.
After the initial phase of rainbows and pink puffy hearts passed we realized that some of those differences were major issues of contention. He was a freelancer (read: paid sporadically) and always thinking up some kind of (LEGAL!) hustle and running off half-cocked. It all seemed shaky to me, as I was used to a 9 to 5 brother. He wanted a down chick who, if she couldn't see his vision, could at least support him pursuing it. I wanted him to see his way to a job with stability, salary and bennies. While he was counting pennies and moving from his apartment to his mom's basement, I was stacking loot. Since I didn't share money with men I wasn't married to, he would drop me off at the airport for my trips to Europe and beyond.
We broke up and got back together and broke up and got back together, but each break just made us respect each other less. He accused me of being bougie and elitist, I accused him of being stuck on broke, too comfortable with living hand to mouth. We were both right.
He wanted to master me, but didn't seem to understand you had to pay the cost to be my boss. My daddy was head of our household cause his money paid for it. Now, I know some will find that distasteful, but I'm just noting it to give you some insight into what I was raised to believe was the norm. Interestingly enough, Caribbean guy's dad was head of the household, too, as his mother was very submissive. We wanted the same thing we just had different visions of how to get it.
The beginning of the end was when I bought my house. Caribbean guy weighed in on every place I saw, on where I was looking to buy, on how much I was spending etc. I listened and then did what I wanted to do, which is exactly what I had intended to do all along because it was my money and my house. He hated me for that and for being able to do what he couldn't do. I hated him for daring to think he could tell me how to spend my money and for not being able to do what I could.
When moving day came, he was mad. My family came up and he didn't lift a finger as a way of "punishing me," which was stupid cause my shit was gon' get moved whether he moved it or not. All those years and he still hadn't figured me out. One monkey never stopped my show. But my people noted this and started individually taking me to the side to tell me this brother was not for me. Despite their advice, I still wasn't quite ready to do what I knew I needed to do.
Then I went home for Christmas. My cousin had bought a great, big, new house and we gathered there for dinner. He asked me to take my grandma home and during the ride, grandma talked to me. She told me how proud she was of me and how she had every postcard I had ever sent her from all the places I had traveled and how she pulled them out sometimes and laid them on her bed to look at them and think about all I had done that she would never do. She told me how proud she was that I had succeeded in my career and now owned my own home.
Then she got down to real business.
Grandma: "I know you want to be married and have babies and I want that for you. But [Caribbean guy] is not your husband. When a man loves you, he will make a way."
For the duration of the ride she talked and I listened. Grandma wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know, but hearing her say it made me sad. After all I had done to make her proud, here I was disappointing her with this relationship that didn't even make me happy or meet my needs. I decided I would not start the new year off in this relationship. And when I made that decision a calmness came over me. I went home and a few days later, I broke it off. Caribbean guy didn't take it well though he knew it was the right thing for both of us. We have never spoken again. Ever. I've never regretted it and I'm betting he hasn't either.
I decided to take a break from dating. I gave myself a year and half to clear my head and figure out what it was I really wanted -- not what I had been told I wanted -- and needed in a mate and a relationship.
When I started dating again I did it slowly. I met some good brothers during that time, two who thought I was the wife they were looking for. I remain friends with them. Then I met Mr. SingLikeSassy.
Mr. SingLikeSassy is the head of our household. He's a 9 to 5-er AND a (legal!) hustler. He's also a gentleman. He always opens the door and puts me in the car. He keeps the house cool so I won't be hot even though he is cold-natured. His vision for the future fits enough with mine that we are not working against each other, but instead work together. He puts me first and I put him first. He doesn't need me to submit because I want to -- but he submits to me, too.
We are equally yoked.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Mr. SingLikeSassy yelling to me: Sure!
Me yelling to Mr. SingLikeSassy: Can I start tomorrow?
Mr. SingLikeSassy yelling to me: Sure!
Me yelling to Mr. SingLikeSassy: Thanks honey for supporting all my dreams!
Mr. SingLikeSassy yelling to me: Sure!
Friday, September 5, 2008
Fisher recounts her stranger than fiction childhood with famous parents who divorce and remarry and divorce and remarry and divorce and remarry -- get the picture? She admits to being crazy right up front and by the show's end you know she wouldn't have it any other way.
I really enjoyed her skill at improvisation and her comic timing. She incorporated audience participation elements into the show, asking questions, inviting people on stage to help with this or that and really connecting with the audience, which can be hard to do when your show is about yourself.
I would say that 80 percent of the show was laugh out loud funny (there are some sad and morbid parts) and I would pay to see it again.