Monday, December 19, 2011

The Kyla Chronicles - Somethin' To Talk About

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The next morning I woke up to see the doors to the balcony open and hear splashing below. I had half a mind to believe it was a dolphin or something splashing around, but I had a glimmer of hope that it was Cash and nothing so big and aquatic would be right underneath my room. I got up and didn't bother to put anything on, as our villa was secluded enough from the others that I could be free with it. I stepped out onto the balcony and caught Cash's eye.

"This is what I call a good morning", he called from the water ogling me as he beckoned with splashing water. "Why don't you come in and join me? The water feels incredible."

"Are you serious?", I asked him eyebrows raised. "I haven't even had a chance to wipe the cold out my eye yet."

"Don't worry about it. The ocean'll take care of allll that. Besides, it's just as jealous as me that you're up there and we're down here.", he mock pouted.

I had a choice to make right then and there. I could do what I normally did, and get acclimated to actually being awake before I jumped out the window. This time only literally. Or I could be spontaneous and fun and join my man down in a real fantasy. I'll take door number two please. I ran into a dive and jumped head first into the ocean. I opened my eyes underwater and found Cash's legs. I swam up to him and emerged from the water inches from his face.

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Friday, December 9, 2011

The Kyla Chronicles - Paradise Island

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When I pulled up to the airport in a black Lincoln towncar, Cash was waiting for me on the airstairs looking oh so dapper, adorned in a cream linen suit and some brown and cream wingtips. His attire told me we were headed some place where the climate was tropical, and I said a silent thank you that we weren't headed to Antarctica or something. 

He descended the stairs just as the driver grabbed my bag and took it to the cargo hold. In his hand he held a champagne flute, with a strawberry on the rim as a garnish. He pressed his lips to mine, embraced me, and offered me the champagne. He appraised me with a look of flattering appreciation and said,

"A little something to celebrate our first trip together. You look gorgeous as always." 

And I was glad to hear it. I was dressed in a pair of Chloe high waisted cream palazzo pants, a Dolce & Gabanna black silk button down blouse with a multi-layered Chanel necklace strung with black, silver, and cream beads, a pair of black Brian Atwood shooties to finish the look. Although I tried to make it look easy, it wasn't such an easy feat getting ready for a trip, an overseas one at that, within a day's notice.

I'd had to get an emergency wax at Completely Bare, tip my stylist extra love love to change my weave to a wet and wavy on the fly, just in case there would be an ocean concerned, and I'd had to go shopping for things that weren't already in my closet. On top of that, I had been up all night packing and trying on clothes, that I was exhausted as I don't know what. If not for the double shot of espresso, a cup of coffee and some concealer, I would have been looking ratchet. And clearly that just won't do. 

He didn't need to know all of that though. I just took the compliment with a coquettish smile and replied,

"Thank you, babe. As do you. So are you gonna tell me where we're going?"

"Ever been to Bora Bora?

Monday, December 5, 2011

I Just Calls 'Em How I See 'Em - Who Were You BEFORE Facebook?

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I have a gripe. Though to call it a gripe is sort of contradictory because my gripe is about people who do nothing but...gripe. To complain about complaining is probably the most hypocritical thing you can do, but damnit I'm doing it. Again. I cannot stand to log into Facebook and see people complaining ALLLL day long. If it aint about this one is a liar, or this one is miserable, or I hate my job, or I hate bitches, or I hate dudes, or just I hate...I hate...I hate. Well you know what I hate? THAT bullshit. 

People complain all day to the people that they are seemingly complaining about. You follow me? My FB page consists of "friends" I can actually tolerate. I don't go on there to dog people, subliminally at that. I hate a subliminal gibe. If you gon' go in on somebody, atleast have the balls to let them know it's them you're talking to. Telling all your FB friends is sort of a cop out to me. Sorry. It's like when rappers take subliminal shots when we all know who they're talking about *coughs Drake*. Though he often does the most, I'd take 50's clear cut insults to Ja Rule any day. At least nobody can call him fake.

Don't get me wrong, we all have a bad day err now and again. We all go on there talking about something we just had to get off our chests. Or sometimes we just need somebody to cosign. I get it. We're human. But if all you do is talk negatively and spew trash, it makes me wonder about the person you really are and what you must be lacking if Facebook is where you seek solace.

Friday, December 2, 2011

The Kyla Chronicles - If You Ask Me I'm Ready

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Now that we were working on trust, it seemed like no better time to get started working on other things...like some skin on skin action. I hadn't had any since my Vegas rendezvous and I was starting to feel the effects. I was irritable, having snapped at my poor assistant on more than one occasion. I was finding lil backed up pimples popping up on my face and I was none too happy about it. Cash was a sweetheart and he was definitely courting me but I was ready for him to push up on the kid...literally.

I was starting to wonder if my past experiences with men had taught me to expect too little. We'd gotten hot and heavy a time or two...or three, but he kept talking some he "wanted it to be special". That was sweet and all but I wasn't a virgin, and though special was nice I could think of a few other "S" words to describe our first sexual encounter, none of them being "special".

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

It Aint Errthang But It Shole Is Important

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Don't ask me why I felt the need to title this post as if my name is Suge Avery, but it seemed to drive home my thinking. The other day I was on Facebook and saw a classic status update from my homeboy J. Bates. He said "Great sex is to a relationship, what money is to life. It's not everything, but it sure makes it a hell of a lot easier." A little less ebonics, but the same point all the same. As a female, I don't frequently go on FB talking about how important or non important sex is to me, but I can definitely co-sign...and I did just that.

A few weeks ago my boo and I found ourselves at my mother's house for a fish fry. We took the ride out to Queens to break bread with the fam and have some good ole fried fish, shrimp, and other unhealthy food that Black folk seem to love. We were doing the couple thing - laughing, joking, flirting and just being ourselves when my cousin looks at us with quite possibly a look of admiration and says,

"Awww, after all these years ya'll still look so in love. What's the secret?"

My response? "Good d**k!"

What??? It's the truth. I was joking but we all know there's always truth in jest. I know as well as anyone that it takes more than good D to sustain a successful relationship, but it does say something that my first thought ventured there. My cousin wasn't shocked by my admission (I'm known for my mouth), but I inadvertently peaked my own interest with my impetuous declaration.

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Thursday, November 10, 2011

Letter To My Unborn Child - Follow The Road, But Pave Your Own

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Hi Baby,

Mommy just wanted to take this moment to let you know that I love you. Not only do I love you but I support you in all that you want to do. I'm sure over the course of your lifetime, what you "want to do" will range anywhere from wanting to be a superstar singer or the president of the United States, but whatever your dreams are, I will be right by your side helping you get there. Hopefully, also helping you find what you were put here to do.

There will undoubtedly be times that I want you to go right when you want to go left. There will be times that I won't want to let you make decisions of your own. As your parent, I have an inherent feeling that I know what's best for you. Call it an occupational hazard...what can I say? But I want you to know, that even during those times, you have to do what you know is right in your heart. For you. Don't be so hardheaded that you can't be open to advice, but if you know something is right for you, know that it is your life and you only have one. For your sake though, I would advise that you articulate it well so that Mommy has a very limited rebuttal. 'Cause you know I have rebuttals for days.

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Friday, November 4, 2011

The Kyla Chronicles - To Trust

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So Cash and I were officially dating! It had been a while since I'd actually been dating someone and I was enjoying it. We'd had what seemed like a whirlwind romance around New York City and I was starting to get used to being treated like a queen. In the month since the party at the Empire, we'd been on a champagne cruise up and around the hudson and east rivers, on a yacht that he'd chartered...just for the two of us. Every night we'd dined at the best restaurants in the city, and never had to make a reservation or wait on a table. With Cash, it was VIP all the way, and it didn't take much getting used to.

He was wining and dining me like no man ever had, and I felt like I was living my own version of some cheesy romantic comedy. Except, there was nothing cheesy about this man, nor the time we spent together. In fact, Cash was so authentic I had to wonder if his authenticity was a ruse. I hear when something seems too good to be true, it usually is. And I couldn't find a damn thing wrong with this man. I was starting to get a little scurred. Not scared. SCURRED. I'd been there before with Tristan. Duped. And was in no hurry to get back.

I mean sure we were only a month into our courtship and  he could very well be showing me his representative, but damn if this was a ruse, he sure was good at it. Had he been one of those pesky sales people that take you on a timeshare tour, I would have most definitely bought once the hour was completed. Matter fact...I would have taken two. Nothing seemed off besides the fact that things with us were so...on. I couldn't figure out if it was a testament to his acting skills, a detriment caused by my naivete, or even scarier...the real thing.

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Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Know Your Role

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Ever since Facebook changed it's structure, there's always some interesting picture that pops onto my newsfeed. This one in particular caught my eye because it not only appealed to female emotions that I'm powerless to control, due to the estrogen than flows through whatever vessels it does. But also because I think most women would agree with this. I say most because not all women have a problem with being subservient or getting the proverbial short end of the stick. But for the portion of us that actually want to be revered, and respected, and loved in a way that is equal (and if we're lucky superior lol) to our partners, is reciprocity too much to ask? I don't think so.

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Tuesday, October 18, 2011

You Better Not Eff This Up

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Bridget Kelly - Seek and Destroy

This morning as I'm going through my daily routine of checking blogs, I come across a song by Roc Nation's new artist Bridget Kelly called Seek and Destroy. First let me say the song is bananas, and being the G that I am I could so relate. She belts out to her man "you better not f**k this up".

The way my mind works scares me sometimes 'cause my thoughts started to veer all the way to the left. Hearing her repeatedly tell her man how he better not eff them and their relationship up, got me to thinking about my own life. I don't have the luxury of effin' this up. This is my one and only shot.

I know it sounds like a stretch but for me it really isn't. I don't know if it's just me but it seems that I'm always at some sort of crossroads. I'll give you a few instances:

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Thursday, September 29, 2011

The Kyla Chronicles - Empire State of Mind

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It had been a few weeks since my trip to Vegas and I was falling back into my daily routine. I was getting adjusted to the single life and it seemed to be doing me well. I thought about Tristan less and less, and I felt myself healing. I'd been on a few dates, but none worth remembering. They were really just excuses for me to get dressed up and enjoy a night out in the city. It is New York City after all. A girl can never get enough getting fly and getting out. Tonight was no different.

A publicist that had done work for the magazine, was having a launch party for a new firm at the Empire Hotel. I'd dressed for the occasion in a hot pink Just Cavalli dress and a pair of purple suede shooties by Brian Atwood. My hair was parted down the middle and my eighteen inches of Remi were flowing silkily behind me.When you're an editor at one of the top magazines in the country, looking your best is a must at all times, and this party was no exception.

When I stepped out of the elevator onto the rooftop, smelled the fall air and took in the view of midtown Manhattan, I was once again reminded of how lucky I was. I didn't have it all, but I had a lot, and that was something to be thankful for. In a mood to celebrate, and not seeing a reason to wait, I headed straight for the bar.

"A Ciroc Bay Breeze please?"

As I waited for the bartender to mix my drink, I surveyed the room and noticed a lot of movers and shakers. One thing about publicists is that they know people from all walks of life. In my once over of the room, I'd noticed a Yankee player, a few castoffs from America's Next Top Model (those girls always find their way into a party somehow or another), a few rappers and B-list pop stars, and some Wall Street cads who could always be found at these types of parties. If not for them, who would the ANTM girls get to make them feel like Naomi and Tyra.

I picked up my drink, and headed to find the host, when I felt fingers close around my arm. I turned around to see Cash looking down on me looking as fine as ever. I'd seen a few hedge fund types in the room, I just hadn't expected to see mine.

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Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Just In Case You Were Wondering...

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So I'm a writer who doesn't write. Go figure.

It's not that I haven't wanted to but I've just been too busy living to document it. And not in a good way...

Let me put it to you this way:

When life is grand, and things are going great, it's easy to put that into words. Or when you're learning life lessons that behoove you to share them with others, it's pretty simple to jot those down. Effortless even. It's just doing my duty to spread love and wisdom. After all, it is the Brooklyn way.

It's just that lately, things haven't been all good with me. From financial struggles, to familial and relationship drama. It's just all been to much. *throws head back and puts the back of my hand on my forehead for dramatic affect*

But never fear (if you care), Miss White is here. Back and better than ever. I just needed some breathing time. I needed to live a little and not worry about writing, school, or anything else for that matter besides getting my mind right. Now that I've done that, or so I hope, I'm back on my J-O. I was just slackin' for a minute, I was gon get right back.

So with that said dear readers, thank you for continuing to check for me in my absence and I hope you continue to do so in the future when I fall off, as I undoubtedly will. Sometimes life gets to be too much, even for us glass half full types. But I've refilled my glass and I'm feeling a little less parched. Check back on Thursday for the revival of the Kyla Chronicles!

Xoxoxo,

Miss White

Thursday, August 25, 2011

The Kyla Chronicles - What's In A Number?

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Luckily for me, Apollo did not disappoint. After he was done French kissing my love below, he kissed his way back north and proceeded to probe me with his member. My body was ready for him and when he breached security, all types alarms went off in my head but they were telling me to stay right where I was. Not to flee the premises but to follow his lead.   As my body writhed underneath Apollo and beckoned for more of what he was giving me, I said a silent thank you to the Vegas Gods for planting this fine specimen of a man right on top of me.

I'd been nervous that I would be wasting a number on him at first, causing a little apprehension. But this was a new me. I used to think of every sexual encounter in terms of my "number" and being ruined for my husband. I know it sounds medieval but I'd fallen prey to some of the ridiculous ideals society lays on women. As Apollo kissed my neck, and maneuvered his body in ways I hadn't dreamed imaginable, the only number I was concerned with was how many more strokes it would take for me to climax.

It wasn't many.

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Thursday, August 18, 2011

The Kyla Chronicles - What Happens In Vegas Part Deux

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Apollo had taken me to a local diner a few miles off the strip. Sasha and Damien, Apollo's friend from the club, ditched us back in the lobby. Once Sasha saw Damien, and how sexy he was, she wanted to do her own thing. I wasn't one to hate and this was Vegas! Who was I to stop her flow? Plus a little alone time with Mr. Apollo didn't seem like such a bad thing.

"So Kyla, what brings you to Vegas?", he inquired as he took a sip of coffee.

"I'm here under the guise of a convention but I just really needed some girl time."

"Why? Ya man not treating you right?" This dude just got right to it.

"Actually, I don't have a man. I just got out of a relationship and I'm really here to celebrate the break up."

"Celebrate a break up?", he asked. "Never heard that one before but ya'll women come up with a new way to move on every time I turn around, so I can't say I'm surprised. First it was a new pair of shoes or a freakum dress. Clearly you already checked that off your list 'cause you are wearing that dress." He gave me a body scan and continued, "Then it was a new haircut. Now we have divorce parties and celebratory break up trips. What's next?"

"Well ya'll men come up with new ways to screw us over every time I turn around, so maybe you should tell me what's next so I'll be better prepared next time.", I retorted.

"Okay so maybe my "ya'll women" was too broad of a generalization but it just seems like there's always a new trend. But enough with the ill conceived generalizations. I apologize for that. I'm sorry to hear about your break up."

"Thank you. I appreciate it. And an apology without me asking for it? Points for you."

"I'm man enough to admit when I've overspoken."

"That's to be determined but you get an A for effort." I said patting him on the shoulder. "So where's your girl? It's 5:30 in the morning. Do you not have some place to be? Somebody to go home to?"

"The only place I have to be is right here with you. I guess you could say I have a girl but we're going through a bit of a rough patch right now."

Here we go.

"Well listen, rough patch or not, I just got cheated on and I'm not gonna be the girl that does it to somebody else."

"That's the thing. We're in an open relationship. Well at least I thought we were. That's why we're going through a rough patch. Somewhere along the way, she wanted us to be exclusive and I just don't get down like that."

"Get down like what?", I asked confused.

"Like that.", he repeated. "Exclusively. I don't really believe in monogamy."

Here. We. Go. 

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

The Kyla Chronicles - What Happens In Vegas

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"Ms. St. James?? Tristan on line 2 again. Would you like to take it?", the voice said from my intercom.

"Tell him I'm busy...again. And I will be...forever. Make sure you add forever for good measure.", I said releasing the button on the intercom with as much annoyance as I could.

It had been a month since Tristan and I had broken up and I was still adjusting. Being in a relationship for so long, I'd forgotten what it was like to be single. Here it was, a Thursday evening and I was still in the office with no plans. No dinner to rush home and make. No date to catch up on the week's happenings. Just me and another episode of Grey's Anatomy. In a matter of weeks, my life had become so...boring.

There were times, that Tristan would be gone for weeks at a time, but him coming home always gave me something to look forward to. Then there were times that he did nothing but local gigs and I could look forward to laying next to him every night, while he laid other things...like pipe. Now my pipes were a little more than rusty and the only bed buddy I had was my remote control. I was starting to feel pretty pathetic and I needed to do something. Maybe a change of scenery would do me some good.

"Melanie? Get Sasha on the line for me please?", I said through the intercom.

"Right away Ms. St. James.", came the reply.

My assistant Melanie was such a sweetheart, but the poor child thought she was in a real life version of "The Devil Wears Prada". The thing is...I'm no Anna Wintour, and she's no Anne Hathaway. I'm a junior editor for one of the leading Black women's magazines in the country, Sass. I'd spent the early part of my twenties climbing my way up the editorial ladder, and I was just starting to see it pay off. Being an editor at Sass most definitely has its perks. Free clothes from some top designers. Tickets to some of the hottest events in town...networking and otherwise. A corner office, a corporate card, and my very own assistant aka my own little mini me.

On paper, it seemed like I had it all together. Up until a few weeks ago, I thought I did. The fabulous wardrobe, the sweet condo, and the man of my dreams. Too bad he'd turned out to be a nightmare. Albeit, a beautiful one. Over the past few weeks I'd realized, I could kinda see why Tristan would feel like he was behind me career wise, but to do me like that? Please! Straight bitch move. Jealous of my success? How cliche. Somehow my thoughts always drifted back to Tristan and it was really starting to piss me off. This was exactly why I needed a vacay. And stat!

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Saturday, August 13, 2011

Just Breathin'

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Just wanted to drop a quick line to say my bad about the missing Kyla Chronicles on Thursday. I had some family come into town and I haven't had a minute to breathe. So now...I'm just breathin'. Check back on Wednesday for last week's Kyla Chronicles and Thursday there will still be a new one!

Hope everyone is well! Enjoy the rest of the weekend!

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Exed Out The Circle

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I hate to admit that I'm such a hardcore fan of Basketball Wives, but to my own chagrin, I will concede that I watch right along with the other 4.2 million viewers. As much coonery and buffoonery runs rampant round them parts, I routinely tune in to catch it. When the show first premiered, I was one of the main ones talking about "that show does nothing for our community", and it "does nothing for the relationships of black women". That is until one day I caught one of those Saturday marathons that VH1 and MTV use to suck you in. As a marketing major, I can appreciate their tactics.

As I watch Basketball Wives get outta control with the women going upside each other's heads, the tonguing men down on camera before the divorce papers are signed, and let's not forget the bitchassness of the men on the show (Eric Williams throwing that drink in Jen's face was downright despicable), I realize that Basketball Wives does a great thing for our community. It shows us what not to do, and how impulsiveness can quickly lead to foolishness.

Foolishness aside, people love drama. And as Tami Roman said in a recent article with The Examiner, drama is what viewers want to see. We probably wouldn't be talking about Basketball Wives (and I probably wouldn't be writing about it), were there no drama. They have earned a spot in pop culture today and, like it or not, they've become more than relevant. So relevant that they even have their own catchprases. From Gloria's "that's whassup" to Evelyn's "non-muthaf*ckn factor", the ladies have definitely coined their fair share of phrases. In an interview with  24WiredTV, Jennifer Williams breaks down the BW lingo. One phrase in particular that stood out to me was "the circle".

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Thursday, August 4, 2011

The Kyla Chronicles - On To The Next One

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The next morning when Cash awoke he offered to take me to breakfast but I told him we'd have to raincheck that. Enough time had elapsed, and I knew it was time to face Tristan. I kept on the tshirt he'd given me to sleep in, since I hadn't exactly brought a change of clothes. Or any clothes for that matter. I'd told him I didn't usually leave the house clothed in La Perla and a Trenchcoat but, under the circumstances he could surely understand. He just gave me a teasing look, that said whatever you gotta tell yourself.

The ride back to Brooklyn from Cash's place was about an hour, since he lived out in a ritzy neighborhood on Long Island. I wasn't feeling much like talking, since I'd been consumed with thoughts of my impending conversation with Tristan. I looked out the window, watching the trees whiz by, trying to ignore the hollow feeling of anticipation that was plaguing my stomach. Cash was perceptive, as I'd come to realize was part of his personality, as he turned the music up loud enough for me to get lost in my thoughts. I'd settled comfortably in my seat, drinking my Dunkin' Donuts French Vanilla coffee, when I heard Jay Z's "Say Hello" come through the speakers. I drifted off into my own little world and I began to think of my life in terms of Hov's songbook.

Last night I was thinking, this can't be life. But soon after I'd had a moment of clarity. I had 99 Problems, and Tristan was no longer one. It didn't take me long to realize aint no nigga worth all that. That much I know. I was so appalled but it was time to get that dirt off my shoulder. But one thing I did know was that if Tristan told me he was just f*ckin' that girl, he was gon get right back, Jay was gon' write his mouth a check his ass couldn't cash. Snapping back to reality, it was hello brooklyn and I was that much closer to hearing what he had to say for himself. Cash dropped me to my car and told me he was there if I needed him. He said from the brief time we'd spent together he was pretty sure I could hold my own. I was a regular American Gangsta.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

It's Not The Message; It's The Delivery

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*Takes foot out of mouth* (Pause)

I'd say I pride myself on being a good friend. I guess you could say I'm a friend 'til the end *Chucky voice*. There are only a few things, for me, that there's no coming back from. They're pretty much limited to distrust, disloyalty, and betrayal. I don't think that's too much to ask. Once those things rear their ugly heads, the relationship is pretty much a goner. Deuces! What can I say? I'm not really a fool me twice kind of gal. Actually, one of my pet peeves is when someone gets done dirty, and when the person who did them dirty is a repeat offender, the offendee hits you with the "Can you believe (s)he did that?".  Often times, I'm sitting there thinking, Yeah I can, why can't you? 

But I don't say that now do I? I listen and try to be a good friend. I try to be conscious of the feelings of my loved ones, but I think there's a thin line between being considerate and being a cosigner just for argument's sake. Sometimes our friends need to hear the real, whether they want to or not. Being a real friend isn't about being a "yes" (wo)man, and agreeing with everything your friends say. It's about being able to give them the truth, whether they're ready to hear it or not. But it all goes back to what we all learn as children; it's not what you say, it's how you say it. It's not the message, it's the delivery.

This past weekend I was put on a "timeout" by a great friend. A classic case of when keeping it real goes wrong put me there. My friend came to me with a very personal and delicate situation, that I gave her my true feelings about. We got into a heated discussion, and she told me she had to call me back. 

She never did. 

Thursday, July 28, 2011

The Kyla Chronicles: Here's Lookin' At You Kyla

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Last night, was incredible. Now run home to that little girl of yours. As long as I continue to get mine, I'll continue to keep our little secret.

I read that line over I don't know how many times, caught somewhere between shock and disbelief. I wouldn't necessarily call myself gullible, but I believed Tristan loved me. Well...I had until a moment ago. Call me foolish, but three years with a man will do that to you. Last I knew, tonight was his first night home from a two month tour. I thought I was the first face he'd seen. The first stop he'd made. Now I was finding out he'd been in town a night prior? Then again, "last night" didn't have to be in New York, did it? But who could he have seen on the road to have a "secret" with? Had he even been on the road at all?

So many questions, but nowhere to start but that message. What to do? I had a man waiting for me in the shower who I was beginning to think I didn't even know. To boot, I'd just had sex with him. Good sex. Scratch that. Great sex. Hold up, forget the sex! But while we're on the sex, thank God it was protected sex. I've been known to slip up. Just thinking of those times and how stupid I'd been had my mind reeling and wanting to do like somebody's crazy mama and take a belt to that wet ass. The possibility that my Tristan could have brought home some nasty ass disease to me, had me envisioning doing some crazy shit to the man. My head was starting to spin out of control and that was not good. For his ass.

I still had on my Giuseppe's since he liked me to keep them on while we got it poppin'. Kudos to me for being a trooper. Who would've known my compliance would prove so useful? I went in the coat closet, threw on my ASOS trenchcoat, grabbed my phone and keys, threw them in my Louis bag, and bolted out the door. I needed time and more info before I made a move. I'm the type of chick to end up on Snapped and I loved Tristan. I really did. I didn't want to hurt the man (necessarily). But I did want to get to the bottom of this. What the hell was going on?

Monday, July 25, 2011

Lovin' Lovey's

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Ya girl Miss White @ Lovey's

Whattup ya'll? *Lala Vasquez-Anthony voice*

Just wanted to drop ya'll a line to let ya'll know about Lovey's Boutique in Brooklyn. A quick backstory:

You know Tionna Smalls from VH1's "What Chilli Wants?" Well if not, she's the BK chick that tried to help Chilli find love. Truth be told, I've never seen the show, but being the pop culture head that I am, I heard about Tionna through the grapevine. I started following her on twitter and her brand of realness, reminded me of familiar girls I'd grown up with...and me.

One day, she tweeted about her accessories boutique, which just happened to be around the corner from my crib. Go figure! I ran over there real quick just to check out some of the accessories, being the girlie girl I am. When I got there, to my surprise Ms. Smalls herself was in the store. She was exactly as you would expect her to be. BK all day. After a quick chat, with her and a sales associate (that included me telling her about the blog of course), I purchased a bag and kept it moving.

A few days later, I found that Tionna had retweeted one of my blogs and that day alone it received over 300 views. She'd also left a comment about how she related. Love the love. I decided to repay it.

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Thursday, July 21, 2011

The Kyla Chronicles: D Before Dishonor

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Tristan walked in looking like a black Jesus with a dark Caesar haircut with the waves spinning 360. Now I know I shouldn't be comparing any man to the greatness that is J-E-S-U-S *cue the Winans circa 1985*, but I swear I heard angels singing when his fine ass walked through the door. Well he didn't walk, as much as he strode but it's the same difference. Right? Naaaah. Not even close. Who am I kidding? Only certain men stride and he was definitely one of 'em. His not quite milk chocolate skin was tinged with a golden tone, and he did not look like a man worn out from a two month bus tour. He looked almost...refreshed. He dropped his bag at the door and called out:

"Babe??"

"I'm in here baby. In the living room laying on the couch."

He strode over to the couch and picked me up. I wrapped my legs around his broad torso and eagerly pressed my lips against his. He parted my lips with his tongue and began to hungrily massage my tongue with his. My body was  in such pleasurable shock that I followed his lead, but I quickly realized he didn't really get a chance to see what I was serving up. I spent money on that damn outfit and La Perla ain't cheap. Not to mention it was cute. He was gonna at least see it. If only momentarily. I gently pulled away and he set me down. I loved how he handled my thick frame so delicately, yet so strongly at the same time.

"Baby, I missed you more than you can imagine but I wanted you to get a good look at what you were missing." I said as I twirled around.

"You look sexy as hell babe. Trust me. Can't you tell I know just what I was missing?" He looked downward and pulled me close again. "Hence the reason I just want to touch you, hold you, do somethin' other than look." He smiled coquettishly. "You talkin' about an outfit, and I'm tryna show you how we fit."

My partner in crime replied by moistening. "Umm yeah...that too.",I fumbled. "It's just I ain't see you in how long? I wanted to look good for you." I fake pouted, turned around, walked over to the dining room table, and made sure my hips had an extra sway while I was at it. "And show off my ass-ets."

"And ass-ets you have, sexy. But you always look beautiful. That's nothing new. Now come here. Sit on my lap. Or somewhere else. Your choice."

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Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Letters to My Unborn Child - Don't Wait For Tomorrow - It May Not Come

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Hi Baby,

Mommy has a story for you. I want you to pay close attention and see what you come away with:

When Mommy was in the first grade she had a friend named Shante. We loved to be around each other, and together we were too much. We'd go to each other's houses and play dress up, run around in the schoolyard, have lunch in the cafeteria with other friends, and be chatterboxes in class (like I'm sure you probably will be too) as little girls usually are. We even got chicken pox together and our mothers had us stay at my house together, so we could have someone to play with, while we were both sick and out of school. She was my best friend.

She would often be absent from class for some reason, but never long enough to cause any worry. One day, a few days had passed since Shante'd been to school. A guidance counselor came in to talk to our class, along with our first grade teacher (Ms. Hopkins was her name). The guidance counselor sat us down as a class and told us Shante had passed away. She had been in a terrible car accident where she'd been tragically hit. I still remember how heartbroken I was as I walked home from the bus stop, to my aunt's house. It's something I'll never forget, but even more I will never forget Shante and what she taught me. And that's what I want to share with you baby.

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Wednesday, July 13, 2011

The Kyla Chronicles: Showtime At The Edge

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I'd just gotten off from work and couldn't wait to get home. I was pushing my X5 down the FDR like it was Kit from Nightrider, Beyonce's "Party" blaring in the background. I had so much to do as Tristan was coming home from a two month tour with Jill Scott. I needed to get to BK. And quick. I had a lot to do and was pressed for time .I wanted everything to be just right for our reunion. I missed him so much it hurt and seeing him was the only remedy. I'd constantly wondered if he'd missed me as much, since we hadn't spoken as frequently as we normally had when he was on tour. Tristan was a backup singer and he toured with different artists. This month, it was Jill Scott. Next month was anyone's guess. He was good - actually he was great - and therefore steadily booking gigs. He had dreams of becoming the headliner, but he figured the background was at least a step in the right direction.

At first it was intriguing and kinda sexy to be dating a musician. But after too many nights alone with BOB (my battery operated boyfriend), life with the next big thing didn't seem too attractive. I figured if I was having this much trouble when he was touring as back-up, how would I feel when he was touring the world on his own merit? And what would that mean for our relationship? I didn't really see myself as the roadie type. I had dreams of my own and I was well on my way. Along with the fact that we were approaching three years and he still hadn't proposed, I wasn't sure where our relationship was headed. The fact that we were in a committed relationship was keeping me from venturing out, but I admit I often had doubts about our future. I mean I'm no slouch and getting a man isn't hard. I'm chocolate, about 5'7, with long black hair that could be considered cooly, with ass for days. What? I'm just saying. I have my fair share of suitors but my loyalty and my love for Tristan keeps them at bay. Damned morals.

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Tuesday, July 12, 2011

LIV on Sundays; Reality On Monday

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*exhales*

As I sit here, beyond exhausted, on the bus heading downtown Brooklyn to handle some business, namely a trip to the unemployment office, I'm being hit with the harsh reality that the fun is done and real life didnt wait for me to come back from vacation. While I was partying hardy at LIV on Sunday *cue Weezy*, a nightclub in the luxe Fontainebleau Hotel on Miami's South Beach, listening to Chris Brown belt out "I work too hard to be ballin' on a budget", I debated whether to have another drink or make sure I had some emergency money left, as well as a few dollars just in case I wanted breakfast after the club. I stood there and realized I was the poster child for ballin' on a budget *cheese*. Trust and believe, I did it and did it well, but I'd be lying if I said when they were asking for sixty dollars at the door, it didn't make me cringe to see others pull it out while I myself knew it was between fronting to get into LIV, and me being a few dollars too short for anything else.

Now let me be frank, I'm never gonna go broke to front. To put on a show or perpetrate a fraud. But I will go next to broke to live my life with no regrets. I'm adventurous what can I say? *shrugs* Some people wait til they have thousands, and some even millions in the bank before they can start to live. But me? I know tomorrow's not promised and I can't die with the little bit of duckets that I do have. All things considered, I live a damn good life. But that doesn't make the reality of Monday any less harsher.

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Saturday, July 2, 2011

Homie, Lover, Friend - Is Your Boo Your Bestie??

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One thing about me is I know who I rock with and I keep my circle small. My boo happens to be my ace boon coon. He can never fill the role my girls do, but I can talk to him about anything.  I can talk to him about how fine Idris Elba is and how he could most definitely "get it". I can talk to him about those new stilettos I want 'cause he likes to picture how they'll look on me when I strut around for him. I can even talk to him about my insecurities like my struggles with my ever fluctuating weight and the next to skimpy dresses (but always classy) I would like to wear if I so chose. That's my bestie for real!

I'm not gonna front, I let go of that "best friend" notion a few years ago. Remember back in the day, how every other year you had a new "best friend"? Or maybe that was just me *shrugs*. To say "best" implies one is better than another. As I've gotten older, I've realized that no friend trumps another. Do we share more things with some rather than others? Sure. But that just means everything ain't for everybody. Another thing I've picked up along the way.

I know I sound like a walking contradiction...I don't do best friends, but my boo is my bestie. That's exactly what I'm asking though...should your boo be your bestie? Or should you stick to your girls/boys?

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Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Lean On Me

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Last week, in my Principles of Management class my professor had me crackin' up. He'd never seen the movie "Lean On Me", before so he was highly amused by the "stay Black and die" line. I encouraged him to the see the movie, one because he's an educator and two because it's a classic. Little did I know, that I'd soon be cast in my own version of "Lean On Me" .

This past weekend was fantastic. The weather was great and New York City was beckoning me to come out and enjoy her. I'd spent my Saturday jaunting all over. I started in Williamsburg viewing million dollar condos, if for nothing else but to show myself what I needed to do in order to get where I want to be. By night's end, I'd had brunch in Long Island City, a few glasses of wine in Fort Greene, listened to a live reggae band at The Shrine in Harlem, and hit up One Fish Two Fish for a late night/early morning dinner at about 1 am (Thank God their kitchen closes at three 'cause after all that running around, me and my peeps were hawngry as hell *not a typo*). Sunday we decided to take it a bit easier and grab lunch at a local spot. As I waited outside for my comrades to join me to head to out, I decided to call up my homegirl. As we're catching up, a lady walks by me hysterically crying. I say to my friend:

"Oh my goodness, this lady is crying and I want to ask her if she's okay but I really don't know what to say..."

She tells me to just say "Ma'am are you okay?". It sounds so simple but I've been so conditioned to mind my business that it seemed hard for those simple words to come to me. I walked over to lady and said the words, and she just continued to cry. I began to gently rub her shoulder to provide the only sort of comfort I knew how in the moment. I asked her if she'd lost someone. She continued to cry but managed to utter, "Yeah. My mother. Yesterday."

My heart broke.

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Friday, June 17, 2011

When Being A Strong Black Woman Goes Wrong

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Would you consider yourself a "strong" black woman? If you're not a black woman, but you are a woman, and you're reading this, would you describe yourself as "strong"? Recently, I was over at A Belle in Brooklyn, and she referenced an article about "strong black women", written by a man, RK Beyers. To use the same quote that Belle did, Beyers stated:

We hear so much about “Strong Black Women”—recently even newly crowned NBA MVP Derrick Rose described his mother as a “Strong Black Woman”—that it almost seems as if the words “Black woman” should also, by definition, have the word “strong” implied.


But “strength” is a masculine trait.


And as the psychological warfare continues that is now trying to explain to us that Black women are the ugliest women alive because they have more testosterone than other women, forgive me if I don’t feel comfortable using any terms even remotely manly when describing someone as lovely, tender and delicate as my mother.

Hmm??? Interesting. His sentiment was sweet and gives me something to think about. When and why has being a "strong" black woman become a bad thing?

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Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Letters To My Unborn Child - Keep The Faith

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Hi Baby,

Right now, I just want you to know how good you have it. When you're a child, you have nothing much to worry about besides getting good grades and being kind to people. Some children don't have it that easy, as they are too often burdened with grown up problems. Mommy has done her best to make sure you didn't have to deal with those things, because undoubtedly baby those times will come.

Mommy has talked to you about faith before and I want to make sure you have an understanding of what it is. Faith can be described as loyalty or allegiance to a cause or person. It can also be defined as complete confidence in a person or plan. You can have faith in many things: yourself, your loved ones, your purpose in life, and many other things. But right now let's focus on your faith in GOD.

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Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Temptation?? Is It Really Killing You or Are You Just Soft???

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*I know I took it way back


I know you see me watching you
And I see you watching me
Cause boy your body's callin'
And temptation is killin me

Temptation can be a b*tch, can't it? Even still, it's nice to know that we have some control over our indulgences. Speaking as one half of a long term relationship, I'd say that temptation will always be there. It's just a matter of taking on a "look but don't touch" sort of attitude.

My dude was going out of town to none other but the dreaded, and cliched Miami Beach for Urban Beach Week, aka where Black people go to act a fool on Memorial Day. When he told me, I didn't have any qualms about it. As a matter fact, I used it as an opportunity to have one of my girls come into town, so we could do our own thing. I had jokes of course because well, who still does that?? But other than that I was cool. When people started asking me about my Memorial Day Weekend plans, I got a whole lot of "You not going with him?" or "What you gon be doing?".

Huh?

First and foremost, I don't sh*t where I sleep, and secondly I don't need for the cat to go away for me to play. I wouldn't do anything I don't have any business while my man is away. And if he did, that would be on him. With that said though, with temptation being what it is, how do we hold off on our impulses??

It's simple. Stop being soft.

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Thursday, May 19, 2011

If It Gets Any Better, I’m Gonna Think It’s A Setup

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Life is crazy, ain't it? Recently, I've gone through a lot of changes but I'll start here:

I love my social networks. They keep me in the know. I'm a pop culture fanatic and I like to be informed of all the goings on in the world at large. People may think that social networking is for the birds, but to the them I say: you're just behind the times. I learn some of my most surprising lessons and get some of my greatest lines, from none other than Twitter. This morning I woke up and I was going through my timeline and read, "Until the age of 25, you're judged on your potential; after 25 you're judged on your results"-unknown.  I favorited it.


Which brings me back to where I started. Man, I've been looking at my results and quite frankly they're not up to par. But the beauty of it is, I'm in control of my future. And if I was a betting woman, I'd have no problem betting on me.


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Tuesday, May 17, 2011

The Other Side Of The Story

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Perception is everything. Right?

For as long as I can remember I've heard, "There are three sides to a story. Your side. Their side. And the truth." My argument has always been: There's only one side to a story. The truth. Up until lately, that logic held true for me. Clearly, I've had my share of disagreements and fallen out with people. I often muse about my relationship deal breakers and things I will and won't tolerate. Mostly character traits like dishonesty, disloyalty, and disrespect. Pretty much, I can't be dissed. Well, that's not entirely true. I can because people make mistakes, and I understand that. We all do. I don't look for perfection, but I do expect what I would consider the basics. You may ask, well what are the basics?

I'd like to think that some things should go without saying, but recently I've discovered nothing is a given. I've cut people off in the past for violating what I'd call basic stuff like running off at the mouth, talking other people's business, violating trust, betrayal. You know? The biggies. Still basics though in my view. In retrospect, I realize what happened and my perception of what happened are quite possibly two different entities. I never really thought about the other side of the story. I only thought about the truth. Which I am now realizing was my truth. Not necessarily one in the same.

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Monday, May 9, 2011

Nothing Is A Given - I Gotta Get Mine

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A few weeks ago when I visited Atlanta there seemed to be a central, underlying message fighting to be transmitted. It kept coming at me from different angles, yet I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Until I did.

I stayed at my father's home and although my father has been out there for over 10 years, the Brooklyn in him is still as evident as the day he left. They can take the boy out of Brooklyn...you know the rest. The house is in a small town on the outskirts of Atlanta, but if I didn't know any better I'd think I was on Marcy and Myrtle somewhere. One morning I 'd woken up at about quarter to ten. My father was on his way out for the day and he called me into his room. The exchange went something like this:

Daddy: I'm about to head out. You want that thang?

Me: Nah I'm good.

*He pulls the thing out* (Disclaimer: it's official and registered...I mean, ya never know)

Daddy: You know how to use it?

Me: Does it have a safety on it?

Daddy: Do YOU know how to use it?!

(If by now, you haven't figured out what "that thang" is, I can't help you.)

He then launches into a full blown tutorial. Keep in mind that I'd been up for less than 10 minutes. He goes about his day, no doubt leaving me with the thing. I laugh to myself and call up a few of my friends to joke about how crazy my father is.  When he comes back home I rag on him, and tell him as much. He gives me a "girl you so naive", look and proceeds to pull up an app on his phone with all the registered sex offenders, in his neighborhood alone. He goes on to tell me about a time he was caught sleepin', that was the only lesson he needed to stay on point.

I still give him grief about it, but when I had a quiet moment to myself, I remembered how I always go in on people for sleepin'. Sleepin' meaning, off your guard. Being on point is always essential. One moment is all it takes to go from good to bad, or bad to worse. I'm thinking, This is a nice neighborhood, I'm chillin'. Who goes that hard? But the real question is, what happens to those that don't go that hard? Being in a nice neighborhood and being safe are not one in the same. Being safe is not a given.

Nothing is.

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Wednesday, May 4, 2011

I Fell In Love All Over Again...With My President

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I'm back on that Obama Kool Aid

The other night, I attempted to stay awake to listen to President Obama address the nation regarding the capture of terrorist and admitted 9/11 mastermind, Osama Bin Laden. My eyes got heavy and when sleep came a callin' I answered. The next morning I woke up to mixed messages and emotions but through all the chaos, the one thing made crystal clear was that Bin Laden had indeed been captured. In addition, he was by all intents and purposes, dead.

When someone dies, our values have taught us that we should never rejoice. Instead we should treasure the life lost and honor it any way possible. Reading through the news and blogs, it was easy to see that many were divided over the murder of another human citizen as well as who should be credited for it. I see it like this....

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Thursday, April 28, 2011

It's A Wonderful Thing To Be Loved

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I just came back from vacationing in Atlanta with my family for the week. One of my closest friends got married and my birthday was also this past weekend. It afforded me the perfect opportunity to get away and spend time with family and friends. A huge part of my family lives there and I used to as well. I moved back to New York about five years ago and as much as things have changed, they've stayed the same. I felt like I was in one of those movies where the protagonist comes home from the big city and everything is the same. It feels like they never left. They get together with old friends, dine at old faves, drive down familiar roads, and visit old haunts. I stayed at my father's home and every time I pulled up, I felt like the 19 year old girl who was intimidated by the house and the father in it. It's interesting that although years pass, some things stay with you. In this instance, the dichotomy between love and boundaries.

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Thursday, April 14, 2011

Real G's Move In Silence

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Let me start by saying this: I'm A G.

You may laugh and some may disagree but that would depend on their definition of the term. After a quick jump over to the urban dictionary, in an effort to find the technical hood definition (if there is such a thing), I found that a G can be defined as a Gangsta, or as a term of endearment. Of course gangsta has a negative connotation as perpetuated by movies like the Untouchables and the more relateable Boyz In The Hood. But keepin' it gangsta can also mean keepin' it real. Being a stand up person. Being G-enuine. That's the type of G I am. Self proclaimed. I don't carry a glock and I don't have a knot of bills in my pocket, but I like to think I have a stronger arsenal. One filled with ammunition such as integrity, candor, and humility.

These days we may see deceivingly assertive women like Evelyn Lozada of Basketball Wives and Nene Leakes of Real Housewives, that we may mistakenly characterize as gangsta. A loud mouth with an opinion and a vocabulary rich in profanity does not a gangsta make. In truth, most people familiar with those of the gangsta persuasion will tell you, real G's move in silence.  An example being President Obama, when he was running for office up 'til now. His adversaries have a whole lot to say while he quietly executed a plan to literally rule the world. That's the type of G I wanna be. One who is strategic and calculated. Smart and educated. And one who ultimately wins (a la Charlie Sheen, a G in his own right some might say). Too bad the Brooklyn in me makes it hard to keep that other G down.

The one from Bed Stuy Do or Die who at times wants to just say, "All these b*tches is my sons".

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Thursday, April 7, 2011

You Heard Me Right Sista, I DID Pay You A Compliment

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*Found this picture of Mashonda on Necole Bitchie after I wrote this and had to post it! This is exactly what I was talking about! SHE. IS. KILLIN'. EM. *cue Fab*

I want a pair of Loubies. AKA a pair of red bottoms. AKA a pair of shoes by designer Christian Louboutin, if you happened to be somewhere living comfortably under a rock. #imnotjudging. He can be equated to this decade's Manolo Blahnik. A pair of coveted Loubies are hard to come by if you're working class like myself, and living on your own in New York. Still and all, with all of those obstacles to consider, there are those ladies who have made it their business to acquire a pair of the hot shoes of the moment.

I don't envy those ladies. I respect them. I'm not talking women who sleep around for trinkets and gifts. Some might not even go that far but to even open up your mouth and ask someone for something that you can't afford yourself, rather than working hard to get it is not something I endorse. But a sister who's worked hard to be able to afford to treat herself and know she's worked hard for it, now that I can get with. Usually, if I see someone rocking them, and rocking them right, I have no problem saying, "Girl, you killin' them shoes", or something to that effect.

I saw a girl walking on the street a few days ago, and she had on some fly thigh high boots. I told her as much. She thanked me but I couldn't tell if she was being dry, or if she was genuinely stunned I'd paid her a compliment. It's sad that it's more surprising for another woman to compliment you, then it is for them to be sizing you up for something to use against you. Obviously it says more about the hater than the person who's being appraised, but I always wonder, are we that hard pressed for approval that we can't openly applaud someone when they've done something worth acknowledging?

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Thursday, March 31, 2011

If You Do All The Crying, What The Babies Gon' Do??

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This workout has been killing me. I understand that if exercising was easy, everybody would be runnin' round here with fit bodies and sick shapes. As evidenced by the obesity numbers in this country, many others share my sentiment. What they probably don't share is the desire that I have for my body to be bad. I'm aiming for back fat and other unsightly additions to be non-muthaf**kn factors. What I'm also looking forward to making a non factor is the 2 size alternatives that I have to take into the dressing room, because I could be either size depending on the week. I want to go in the store, know my size, pick it up and leave. Being that I'm not there yet, I had to ask myself: Where is crying about the workout going to get you besides the same results you've been seeing? The answer? Nowhere. So I needed to knock it off. The complaining was not only counterproductive, but I'd begun to annoy even myself.

Speaking of annoyed, the other day I was on one of the social networks and  I was annoyed to see another depressing status update. Don't get me wrong I've been known to vent a time or two about a rainy day, a random argument, maybe the MTA throwing off my whole day, and of course working out. But when you go online and see depressing post after depressing post, often from the same people,  it's like "Really?? ANOTHER Bad Day?". I'm starting to think it may be you. That same day I updated my status to say: "Hate a habitual complainer. If u don't like your situation...change it. Find SOMETHING to be happy about. That is all."


Granted it may have been a little unnecessarily snarky, and even a bit preachy but there's nothing worse than grown a$$, capable people boo-hooing. Worse than a crying woman is a crying man. Seems today we have more of those shedding figurative tears than should be conceivable. Listen...men can cry in the dark, in the light, I could really care less. I don't have a problem with an emotional man, or an emotional person at all. But I do have a problem with someone who cries about their problems and does nothing to fix them.

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Tuesday, March 29, 2011

The False Dilemma of Deleting Someone From Facebook

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A few days ago I was on Facebook and something nosy in me prompted me to click the link on the right side of the screen that read "People You May Know". Facebook has many of functions that I often pay minimal, if any attention to. The "People You May Know" feature is one of them. Bored out of my mind and doing the first thing that occurred to me I clicked on it. I began to sift through these supposed likely friends. As I look at pics and recognize familiar names, I'm once again baffled by the internet and how it really works. I know they say Big Brother is always watching, and the things they know scare me just a little. But anyway, I digress. As I'm scrolling, I run into the friend I talked about HERE. I was mildly stunned to see that she was among these no longer phantom people I may know. I definitely knew her, but what I did not know was that she had deleted me from her friends.

Some weeks back, I was visiting my aunt and somehow we got into a conversation about Facebook. She's notorious for putting people on blast on their walls, and then being deleted from their friends' list. She's also known for being offended by people and the stuff they choose to post (whether it be too raunchy or just plain TMI) and deleting them from her page. I honestly found it all pretty melodramatic but entertaining nonetheless. It became a running joke for weeks and anytime one of us did something playfully offensive to the other, we threatened deletion. Of course we had more than a few good laughs about it, but it left me thinking about a few people I wanted to delete. My former friend being one of them.

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Saturday, March 26, 2011

Sometimes It Lasts In Love But Sometimes It Hurts Instead

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Please Listen:



I heard that you're settled down,
That you found a girl and you're married now,
I heard that your dreams came true,
Guess she gave you things I didn't give to you


I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited,
But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it,
I had hoped you'd see my face,
And that you'd be reminded that for me it isn't over


Never mind, I'll find someone like you,
I wish nothing but the best for you, too
Don't forget me, I beg,
I remember you said,
"Sometimes it lasts in love,
But sometimes it hurts instead,"


Sometimes it lasts in love
But sometimes it hurts instead

Powerful right?

Every now and again I find an album that I get obsessed with. Right now, it's Adele's "21" album. If you're not familiar with Adele, trust me Google is your friend and if ever there was a time when you needed said friend, it was now to find out more about Adele. But since I'm your friend too, in a manner of speaking, I'll do you the solid of providing a few links within this post.

I first fell for her about 3 years ago while I was channel surfing on the late night. I just so happened to randomly catch the end of Conan O'brien and I lucked into watching Adele perform "Crazy For You" (you can see her perform it live HERE). From then I was hooked. I went and found everything she'd ever recorded for the public and I was a certified fan. Like many of the rest of her fans, I waited patiently for her to release a follow up album to her debut "19" (named for her age at the time) and I was more than satisfied with what she delivered.

Although I'd previously listened to the new album in its entirety, it was during Grey's Anatomy's most recent episode that "Someone Like You" resonated with me as it did. My heart broke listening to the scenario Adele croons about in the song (and talks about in the video above).

Picture this: You break up with the person who you thought you'd spend the rest of your life with, only to go on with your life never finding a love that half way equals the one that got away. Years pass, and you run into your old love only to see that he's not only moved on, but gotten married. He seems to have everything you lack and even longed for with him. You'd hoped that when you reconnected that he'd take one look in your eyes and realize that you still love him just as much as the day he left. Only when you meet him you see that he's happy and the feeling isn't quite mutual.

Kinda heartbreaking, huh?

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Wednesday, March 23, 2011

I'm Still Confused: Can Attractive Men and Women Be "Just Friends"?

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For some reason this age old question is still relevant: Can Attractive Men and Women Be "Just Friends"?

Let me tell you a little something about me: I'm not the type of girl that runs around here screaming every man is fine aka "a shorty". For me to classify you as a shorty you need a few things and I find most men lacking. Fellas, if you're reading this, by no means am I saying this to say that I'M your definition of a "shorty". If I'm not, that's cool but quite frankly you may not be my standard either. I say that to say, if you are what I would consider a "shorty", friendship just probably isn't in the cards for us. "Shorties" try to befriend me all the time and I often tell 'em, I ain't really in the market for any new "friends" right about now.

Yet sometimes I'm also often left wondering: Am I cutting off potential friends using the mindset of a close-minded individual that assumes most men want to be my "friend" with the hopes that we'll end up being more? More like bedroom buddies? Or am I just being realistic and taking these dudes at face value, knowing that they want to be my friend for as long as it takes for them to get in my panties? Which leads me to my conclusion...Friends? Pish tosh! You only wanna be my friend until I have a momentary lapse and then BOOM...you got me (or you got them)! Guess what? I'm good. I got enough friends.

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Friday, March 18, 2011

Confliction

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To the left, to the left

But the right is pulling hard

For some direction I am starved


At a crossroads

Which way to go

A haphazard river with no steady flow


A road map would help

'Cause I can't find my way

Confusion an inconvenient delay


In my heart lies the right path

Though the wrong one pulls and inflicts its wrath

Holding onto me as tight as latex

Postponing my trip to the imminent apex


Reason has left me alone out in the cold

The warmth of righteousness 

Eluding me like a straight line in a fold


Mind over matter

Oh yeah that's rich

What happens when the matter's too great

That mantra becomes impossible to relate


Confliction wars amidst chaos internally 

Conclusiveness an illusory destination on a trying journey 

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Can I Get A Do Over?

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Ever wish life came with a rewind button? Or a white out pen? Or even a backspace key? I know I do. Sometimes I do something and I immediately wish I could take it back. It's kinda like, "Hey, can we just act like that never happened?" *insert smiling face and batting eyes* Unfortunately though, seeing as how this is real life, there's some truth to the saying "what's done is done". Le Sigh.

Yesterday I was explaining my whole "death before dishonor" relationship approach to a friend of mine. He asked me if I ever feel like I'm overreacting because, I quote, "you seem like the type to overreact". Ha! Possibly true. But who's to say what overreacting is? To say someone is overreacting diminishes their feelings and also says that what they hold as important isn't nearly as significant as their making it out to be. Who says? Overreacting, like most things is subjective. After I broke it down with that logic he agreed but still he asked, "You don't make mistakes?"

Boy do I ever.

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Friday, March 11, 2011

I Wish I Could Say It's Not You - Sometimes It's Just...Over

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You ever fall out with someone and everyone else seems more broken up about it than you are? You try to muster up some semblance of emotion but it just isn't there? A few months ago, I mused about the ending of a friendship (check it HERE) and how it's probably the closest thing to an actual break up. That's when you really care about the relationship and you mourn its loss. Yet there are those times when you're just like, "Ahh well.*shrugs* Ya win some ya lose some." It's like when a friend breaks up with a guy you like. You really like the guy and you kinda wish, if nothing else, your friend remains friendly with dude so at the very least if you see him in the street you could chat it up, and not feel like a traitor. Yet if you you can't...it was nice knowing dude.

The other day I was at some restaurant that had one of those Chinese zodiac sign charts on the paper menu/place mat. Mine happens to be the Rat (Ew!). A part of the description read: Seldom makes lasting friendships. I can't front, that gave me a little pang. Firstly, because I consider it to be true of myself. Secondly, I had to wonder does that say more about me or the people I choose to befriend. Pretty much, either way you slice it, it's a reflection on my skills of determining people's character. That didn't really sit too well with me.

I've never been a clique type girl. I've always had a right hand. From the time I was in the first grade stealing other people's box juices with my little first grade wing woman, up until now when I call maybe one girlfriend to share my personal business with. That's just me (another notable Rat fact is that we give good advice but rarely unload our own problems onto others). Yet, every time I've fallen out with someone, it's been with one of these "right hands". Things that make you go "Hmmm". Makes me wonder. I could liken it to one of those "It's not you it's me" spiels. It's me because my tolerance for your nonsense has reached it's peak. It's you because either you're not growing, or I just can't get with what you've grown into. You've been there I'm sure. It's when you're at the point where you don't have a long drawn out explanation for it. You're just simply done. It's just...over.

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