It's Not a Date

At least that's what I keep telling myself. It's a reunion of sorts. Hi guy who broke my heart. How are you today? How has life been since we stopped sleeping with each other? Please keep it superficial. I don't want any indication that you've moved on...not ready for that just yet.

This meeting is for closure. Did you get that memo? This is the day where we reminisce on good times, skim over what went wrong, and talk about how we're glad that we can be friends. After all, we got to know alot about each other and it would be a shame to let that go to waste. Except that I still want to love you...

Excuse me? Oh no, I didn't mean to say that out loud. I was just thinking to myself that I don't want to be your friend because I wanted to love you. It seems impossible to look at you as a friend because wouldn't that mean that eventually we would hang out and scope singles together. You used to hold me. I can't forget that. You used to kiss me. I don't want to forget that. Maybe this was a bad idea. I'm having trouble maintaining eye contact. You said my eyes were always honest. Don't look now. They'll tell you how hard this is.

I know it's over. It's been over for a while. That's what today is about remember...sealing the ending. But why are we really here? Who won't let it go? And more importantly, why not? Oh, I bought you something for your recent accomplishment. That's right, so it's me. But you wouldn't let me give it to you when it was right in my hands three weeks ago. So it's you. I mean that means you wanted to see me again, right? Why? I think we're both as confused outside of this relationship as we were in it. I mean you canceled our reunion once and i canceled twice. (I always like to one-up people that make me feel vulnerable) I think tomorrow we'll do it...end i mean. Officially.

I agreed to this? That was a bad idea. I'm nauseous now-how am I supposed to go to work afterwards? You're a guy, you'll swallow once and reset the program. You're probably not even nervous now. Shit, why did you agree to this? I've always been a glutton for melodrama...let me find out we're more similar than i thought. Better yet, don't let me find that out. I'm working on reasons to forget about you, not give you another little piece of my heart (now baby)...

Maybe you'll cancel tomorrow. Maybe we'll get another few days to pretend whatever we're pretending until it's real. Maybe we'll be grown ups and get it over with. There's a part of me that's done enough mourning to feel like I'm ready to move on. The woman in me that can acknowledge that that which is not healthy has no place in my life. But the other part of me, the one that can only focus on getting that "old thing back"-well she understands Third Eye Blind:

"I want to get myself back in again/the soft dive of oblivion/i want to taste the salt of your skin/the soft dive of oblivion/oblivion"

Oblivion never sounded so beautiful as it does tonight. But I know I'm not a fool and we have to do this, so guy just remember to stay superficial. Do it for me.

Adventures in Mommyhood

On Sunday my son shit on my floor...twice. Today he is running around partially naked slamming his yucky toddler butt on my sofa. He is almost 3 and should be well on his way to potty training. However, it appears I'm not that lucky. I have a son that hates diapers, loves being nude, yet refuses to attempt potty training. I have too many stories that begin with "I don't know why he keeps peeing on my floor". I've purchased pull-ups, favorite character underwear, potty seats, lollipops for treats, etc. Frankly, I'm tired and did i mention that my son shit on my floor...twice. After the first year of life, toddler poop is really adult poop, so picture that...on my floor...twice. Too gross.

I made him help me clean it up (safely of course) and his simple response was, "Mommy, this is yuck". Kid, you just made your first understatement. I've tried to take him to the bathroom every hour. I've given him "you're a big boy and big boys use the toilet"speeches. I've read articles. Nothing is working. And yet, he is obviously uncomfortable with wet or soiled diapers because he tears them off as soon as they're no longer 'fresh'. Is he going to wake up one morning and decide to use the toilet or am I going to be telling his first girlfriend stories of him soiling himself at 7 years of age? *Deep Sigh*

But is there a such thing as parental peer pressure? Because to be honest, he's my first child and if he still doesn't want to potty in the toilet it doesn't bother me that much. That is, until it comes up in conversation. You know-THE conversations-the ones in which everyone talks about what their kid is or isn't doing. Now, I love to tell the "And then so & so said, 'Mommy, i think the dog is shyyyyy"...because really when your 2 year old uses the word shy correctly, your chest automatically swells.

But then you have to sit your ass back down, when the conversation goes like this:
Person A: "Is he potty trained yet?"
Me: "No"
Person A: "And how old is he?"
Me: *Insert mumbled "almost 3" here*
Person A: (Disappointed slow nod)

Because all of our children's accomplishments are because of us, their failures are also directly our fault. What? That's not how it goes? Okay, pretend that's not the unwritten rule if you want, but then why do you feel bad when someone questions your kids' weird scratching? I mean really, why does your kid scratch himself like that?

Nevermind, I digress.

My point is that I don't like when my son soils my floor with bodily fluids, but I don't know how to change it right now. And i don't want to feel bad about it either. It's gross, but it's far from the end of the world. And I wonder how he feels. He's only been alive for two years and eight months and now I want to change up something very routine and sacred to him-the diaper change. I'm damn near 26 years old and I still get ornery when I don't have lunch between 12pm and 2pm. Imagine how I would feel if someone told me I had to start using the bathroom upside down or something. Change is hard...for all of us. So I guess, FOR NOW, I can relax a little and just really, really pray I never find poop on my floor...again.

Linger

But I'm in so deep/You know I'm such a fool for you/You've got me wrapped around your finger/Do you have to let it linger? (Linger by The Cranberries)


I did it again. The one thing I didn't think I could. Didn't think I'd want to do. Hell, I really didn't want to and it happened anyway. I loved again.

Let me be clear. I don't really know how it happened. I dated a guy on and off, healthily and unhealthily, with labels and without them for almost 8 months. I couldn't understand why I cared about every interaction, why I missed laughing with him, why I was struggling once it was over and why the prospect of dating other men made me nauseous. And then my girlfriend said it so non chalantly, "Well, I guess it would be a lot easier to get over him if you didn't love him". I am not exaggerating when I say I cursed that woman out and laughed like a madwoman. "Love who? Him? Hell no. I don't love nobody but myself and my baby. Are you crazy? What do I have I have to love him for?" And frankly, once you start rambling and your grammar falls apart, you know you're full of it. It's over and you've lost this verbal battle.

I was a mess. I love him? I love him? I love him. How did that happen? How many times did we laugh together before it happened? How many future plans did we share before it happened? How many family history/war stories did we swap until it happened? Was it when I slept over? Was it the hugs or the kisses? Was it the fact that we had a good chance of having a dark skinned little girl with green eyes...don't ask, but scientifically it was true! And worse than this discovery, was the ugly truth staring at me mercilessly. We weren't even together anymore and the chances that HE loved ME were slim. So as if loving someone again, against your will, after being hurt on multiple occasions, was not enough; I wouldn't even be able to count on having that person love me back. Excuse me while I jump off the nearest NYC bridge. This is ri-damn-diculous.

Now if you're like me, you might also find it difficult to find the point in loving someone who can't/won't/or just don't love you back. I could lie and say that I sat with all these emotions and tried to figure out how I felt and what I could do with these feelings (positive things of course). But I love to swim in this river called DE-NIAL and instead I pretended my friend was crazy and I had sense in my head. I went out that weekend with a bunch of friends to celebrate a major accomplishment for this man, exchanged some laughs, had a few drinks (on an empty stomach) and by the end of the night, proclaimed my love for this man...to this man. Now ask me a simple question like "How did that happen?" and I'll say "Hell if I know, I don't remember". As if me falling in love was not a betrayal enough, my poor empty stomach couldn't handle my drinking and allowed the alcohol to create what I like to call "holes" in my brain. In one of those holes lies the whole conversation in which I thought it would be a good idea to let the "ex" know I loved him. I completely understand what Pink meant when she said she was a "hazard" to herself.

Long story short, he told a mutual friend about it...twice. This mutual friend attempted to clean it up by saying that I had a lot to drink and probably meant "love" like we all love our friends. Kisses and hugs to the friend who tried to clean up this disaster. I do not believe with any ounce of my being that the ex believed it though. Luckily, I could depend on one of his worst flaws to be one of my greatest saving graces right now--he hates confrontation on any issues of importance. And hell, love is pretty important. So I could depend...i could bet...on him not asking me about it directly and thus live a semi normal life thereafter.

I've seen him since then and to be honest, we're supposed to "have lunch" this week. Somehow I get the sense that a one on one lunch date versus the group at a BBQ venue (the last time i saw him) will be slightly different. I also get the sense that I will have trouble making eye contact. Or will he? I mean, what's it like to have someone love you and not feel that back? Is it at least flattering or is it damn uncomfortable? Can't say I've been there and if I have, can't say that I knew.

I sometimes ask myself why bother with all this...there has to be a better way of getting over relationships. Why can't I wake up and wish all the emotion away? Why can't I reason with myself, "Self, this ship has sailed, save yourself"? Why can't I get angry, cry, break some shit, and breathe, knowing that it's all over? Well, as I've been reminded, they can't even cure the common cold yet. So frankly, if you're looking for answers over here, I've got nothing for you. All I know is that once upon a time, I loved a man so deeply that when it fell apart I routinely cried the mascara off my face everyday right before work. And now, I can count the amount of times I think about him on a daily basis using two fingers (both middle fingers mind you).

And so all I know is that loving someone that doesn't love you back is far from the worst relationship souvenir you could keep.

And loving someone after you've been hurt is a sign that you haven't been defeated.

Oh yeah...and while falling in love is out of our hands, staying in love is a choice and so no matter what, this too shall pass.

Let's just hope it's before the next BBQ ;-p

Because I'm in the Mood

My best friend is a huge fan of Audre Lorde and well, friends are supposed to put you on to new things :-p So blog world, I share this poem with you and add some commentary at the end...


Stations by Audre Lorde

Some women love to wait for life
for a ring in the June light
for a touch of the sun to heal them
for another woman's voice
to make them whole
to untie their hands
put words in their mouths
form to the passages
sound to their screams
for some other sleeper to remember
their future
their past.

Some women wait for their right train
in the wrong station
in the alleys of morning
for the noon to holler
the night come down.

Some women wait for love
to rise up
the child of their promise
to gather from earth
what they do not plant
to claim pain for labor
to become
the tip of an arrow
to aim at the heart of now
but it never stays.

Some women wait for visions
that do not return
where they were not welcomed
naked
for invitations to places
they always wanted to visit
to be repeated.

Some women wait for themselves
around the next corner
and call the empty spot peace
but the opposite of living
is only not living
and the stars do not care.

Some women wait for something to change
and nothing does change
so they change

There is so much that speaks to me in this poem that it's actually difficult to start. I think about the last 3 lines-"Some women wait for something to change and nothing does change so they change" and it's odd to me that one can interpret them in 2 different ways, both accurate & fitting.

On the one hand, a person can only sit waiting for something to be different before they DECIDE to be different. A woman walks away from a loveless marriage, Mom goes back to school after years of home making, the Social Worker changes careers, or the real estate agent just decides to travel because she can. Their lives WILL be different because they choose it to be. On the other hand, sometimes a person can get so stifled by the stagnancy of their lives that they adapt and stop wanting things to be different just so they can have peace. Perhaps that's the woman who stops wanting more from her partner, the woman who never does anything that doesn't revolve around her family & children, the woman who can't make a decision her Church doesn't agree with, or the woman who stays at her job because it's stable. I'm both of these women at different times and I suppose that's how life goes.

Soledad

Warning: The following is a conversation I've had with myself...it is mostly unedited and tragically accurate. Proceed.

Why doesn't it feel okay to be alone? Or more specifically single? I have beautiful friends & family and yet singledom weighs heavily on my shoulders. Sometimes I physically feel a heaviness as if being single is something to live through, a cancer of sorts. How did I get here? And seriously, how do I get out? I remember the end of my last relationship as one of the saddest, most traumatic experiences of my life. (Trust me, if you knew the details you would agree it's not an exaggeration) There were days I sobbed the mascara right off my lashes, forgot what food taste like because I missed all meals, and generally curled up in bed until the next day of work. Those days have been long gone. I've partied, dated like a champ, took some 'Naively Engaging with the Opposite Sex' L's, sat in silence, verbally vomited in therapy, read relationship books, and made positive changes in my life. At various points I went to church, worked out, re-examined my career choices, and focused on my little one...all in over 13 months.

13 months...and I'm still here. Where is here you ask? Oh, just waiting for my Tyler Perry ending. Almost literally waiting for a "blue collar" handsome, Church going man of color to come and rescue me from my life and make me believe in love again. Well, except that I actually prefer a white collar man, Church is preferred, but not mandatory, and I don't want to be saved at all. I just want to believe in love again. I want to believe that people care about more than themselves. More than money. More than sex. More than popping friggin bottles at the club. Jesus Christ, my dating experiences this past year have encompassed quite a few characters, from a corner store bodega worker to legal staff on Wall Street. No winners. And maybe the truth is that I'm not frustrated that I haven't found THE ONE to settle down with, but that the options are so similarly disappointing. Broke or well off, high school drop out or college educated, broken home or 2 parent household, inner city or suburbs, every man makes me lose a little bit of faith in humanity. Literally.

I suppose what I'm really looking for is purity, integrity, commitment, and honesty. I want a man that won't lie to my face about his intentions or behaviors. I want a man that can tell me it's not working for him instead of slowly but surely ignoring my text messages. I want a man that truly understands that it's NOT okay to have your cake and eat it too. I want a man to know that he is NEVER allowed to tell me that he can "have me" any time he wants. I'm not a fool. I know that sometimes we play a bigger role in our interactions than we like to admit. I also know that there are times I'm disrespected because the other person really believes it's okay. Not because it's me per se, but because I'm a woman and who cares how I feel? Why don't they understand how much that hurts? Better yet, why don't they care? I'm not asking them to see me as the best thing since slice bread, I'm asking them to see me as human. To see that I have intrinsic value and worth. Is that ideal too great? Or just not of worth?

Well I challenge men to play fair at least. To play hard ball without tricks. Simply understand the truth won't kill me. I've survived too much to feel bad because you don't like me. Shit, I don't like you all either. However, I will continue to feel bad that you don't even deem me worthy enough of that conversation though. It's a double edged sword-I feel like I get treated like some china doll that can't handle the truth because it will shatter me, yet men seem to think I can handle being treated like shit with no issue. Fuck you. Not the men that "just didn't work out"-fuck the ones that treated me like shit despite telling me various times, various ways that they would in fact "not treat me like shit".

I could almost understand if men just said this shit to sleep with you and it always worked. But not with me. My digits are loooooooooooooow in that arena and thank God because really, my vagina is not for practice. But.........being single is lonely...even surrounded by friends, even surrounded by family, even surrounded by a boisterous almost 2 year old. And I wish it was just the sex because that's easy to address, but it's not. It's the fact that after a long day of work, there's no one waiting to hear about it. There's no one that's been waiting all day just to see your beautiful face or hear your voice on the phone. There's no one to argue with about dinner choices. No one to snuggle with during a rain storm. No one to be silent with on a Sunday morning. No one to discuss celebrity shenanigans. No one to hold your hair back when you puke after a long, crazy night out with the ladies. I suppose these things actually make up that nasty word: intimacy. I'm terrified of it. Feel vulnerable because of it. Ah, but I miss intimacy. Soledad/Solitude feels like shit.

Is there a way to know?

Sometimes I think to myself that it's easy to judge what makes a good or bad mom. On the train, you hear a mom call her daughter a "little bitch" and it makes you cringe. Mom smacks little boy across his face for wanting candy and you remember Katt Williams say "He's 2 years old, he's supposed to want Skittles, you simple bitch"-easy judgments in my book. I revoke their mommy card immediately and maybe that's wrong, but maybe it's not. But forget about the easy stuff. Forget about the things we see that we make jokes about, or report on our status updates, or share via text message. What about all that isn't seen, but is felt like hot coal? What about the interactions that no one would ever know or hear about without our disclosure-the ones that actually in essence cement the foundation of our beings. It's not dramatic, let's face it a parent can make or break a lot of who and what we are. At one end of the ring, we strive to be everything that parent was not and at the other end of the ring, we look in the mirror and realize that the 'enemy' sits firmly in the middle of our chests. Some of our worse habits can be traced back up the gene pool with ease as we simultaneously praise ourselves for not being "as" selfish, ignorant, and flawed as Mommy or Daddy Dearest.

I look at my son and I wonder what mistakes I will make, what mistakes I've already made, and whether I'll ever do some really great stuff in his life. I joke that every kid needs something to talk about in therapy, but who really wants to be the focus of that conversation? Not I said the cat; especially when week after week I find myself bashing one parent or the other in my own therapy sessions. I've struggled with whether or not therapy is self-indulgent. After all when was the last time a woman of color got a minute, let alone 45, to talk about all that is wrong without having to find the solutions for someone else's problems? Don't worry, I'll wait. I've spent so much of my short life taking care of other people that talking about situations where I've REALLY been wronged or people FAILED to take care of me is HARD. Hating my stepfather or my real father and talking about the reasons is difficult, but stepping up to the plate to swing at my mother has been the hardest conversation I've ever had to have.

If I had to put it in simple terms, my stepfather abused me, my biological father neglected me, and my mom just failed to act. She never came up to the plate for me or my siblings. She never fought back. She never did right by us. She always chose him or maybe worse, maybe she always chose herself. She didn't want to be a single mom. She didn't want to be on public assistance forever. She didn't want us to grow up without fathers. These days she talks about divorcing my stepfather and all I keep thinking is "well that's a day late and a dollar short". I battle chronic depression, my sister has anxiety attacks, my youngest sister has an eating disorder, and well my younger brothers (who are still in middle & high school) are early in their visual dysfunction. One dabbled in the usual acting out behaviors, smoking weed, drinking, truancy and the other has decided that stealing and lying is okay as long as he gets what he wants. Ask him why he does certain things and at 12, he'll answer, "Cuz I want attention. Just some attention". I can pat my parents on the back for making sure we all, at least, valued education and hard work. But I can also provide them with a big "F*ck you" for being selfish bastards.

Yesterday I told my mother, "I've decided to eliminate people from my life that don't contribute positively to it and refuse entry to new people who won't contribute positively". Silence on the phone. Hmmm, let's guess what mommy is thinking. #1) She's thinking I'm talking about my stepfather (she's mostly right) & #2) She thinks I'm talking about her (guilt sure is a motherf*cker when you're actually wrong). I ask her why she's quiet and she answers as only she can, "Oh no, nothing. I respect your opinion, it's just that you sound bitter and I don't think you'll always feel that way". Hmmm, no shit Sherlock, you let our father abuse us for years and yet you want us to still come around and play nice. Even though, he's still a selfish alcoholic. He still hasn't apologized to anyone for the years of misery. And he has yet to make any attempt to become a different man.

Me on the other hand-I fight like hell to keep my head above water so I'm not on antidepressants. My sister's anxiety attacks have become more frequent. And I just saw my youngest sister who is once again so thin her eyes look black as if she's been punched. I asked her about it and she looks at me with obvious pain and says "You know, good weeks, bad weeks. It's a bad couple of weeks, I've just been thinking alot".

F*ck you dad for being an abusive, remorseless prick & f*ck you mom for being a coward.

"I don't think you'll always feel that way"

Guess what? I don't know what later will feel like or look like, but I know today and today you suck. And i like to think that my son will NEVER think of me in this way, but is there a way to know? Will I choose my needs over his? Will I ever choose a man over my baby? Will I sit back and watch evil and misery chip away at my little boy's soul? I once heard in a clinical training that trauma slowly destroys a child's ability to dream. Little by little, that child will begin to limit what they believe they can do in life, what they believe can happen, what they believe people are capable of. Would I let my son lose that faith? Would I help him lose it? I think to myself, "Hell no, I know better", but is there a way to know?

Could my mom have ever dreamed at 16 that she would still sleep with a man who hurt her daughter even after she knew?

Could my mom ever dream as a child that she would be punched like a man in front of her kids by her husband?

Could she dream that she would then wake up the next day and make him breakfast?

Could she dream that her oldest daughter would eventually be her protector?

Could she dream of just how much it broke her spirit to be that?

Empathy would ask me to put myself in her shoes and understand her fears, her concerns, her limitations. But Anacaona would say I would never wear those shoes so why bother? I love my mother in the most painful of ways, but I'm ashamed of her weakness. Growing up I thought my mom was so strong to put up a brave front for the world when she suffered so much. It took me years to identify that strength as "fear". Fear of change, fear of loneliness, fear of the unknown. And shit we're all scared of some/all of these things, but it does not freeze us all. Why couldn't my mother do better? Simply do better. Simply love better. Choose better. Be better.

I could run circles around the possible reasons and grow dizzy from the possibilities, but aside from all the clinical excuses, is there a real way to know? What could anyone tell me now to heal? To forget? To be.

And if I knew any more, any deeper, would I be any different? Is there a way to know?

Because it matters

Why is it so hard to write again? When does a passion become a task? Excuses can be plentiful: "oh between work & mommying, i'm just so busy", "i'm tired after doing x, y, & z", "I don't know what to write about". Blah, blah, blah-but why lie about something that you care so much about?

I love writing-I've always loved writing. I didn't understand why it was so important to me-didn't get where I got this from (do you get it from somewhere at all?)-all I knew was that my whole life, moments, thoughts, and feelings transferred from the inside walls of my head to a paper or a screen. And in that moment all was well with the world. It was peaceful, it was redemptive, it was me. But these past few months have been so very chaotic for me, so painful, so turbulent that i questioned my reality on a daily basis, questioned my passion as self-indulgent even. And I outlined these moments in so many papers & posts that somehow never made it anywhere that anyone else could see. And as I write this, I think get why. I think i get past the excuses and towards reasons0. Whenever something painful makes it to paper, makes into indelible words, makes contact with another person, it's real. Reality doesn't bite because it "hurts", reality bites because its undoable. Because you could kick, scream, cry, or laugh and it would never undo the truth. The truth can inspire greatness, can trigger love, can beg for redemption, but it has to scar first. It has to carve reality into your soul, into the inner spaces that no one else sees, into the rooms of your brain that you sometimes have to stifle to get through your day.

My truth is that I loved a man who never loved me, but convinced me he did & manipulated accordingly. I loved a man that made me question my own truth everyday and I was never strong enough to do different, to move differently. And I don't want to waste this space on how that happens, on details that ultimately don't matter, or on voyeuristic pictures of anguish that still celebrate his place in my life. This space is for my writing. This space is to reclaim the truth, inspire a paradigm shift if you will. A space to remember that some of the lessons we learn sting, some burn, and some threaten to break us...but ultimately, we rise like a flower in the concrete jungle & despite all odds, we remain beautiful.

In reclaiming your life, one has to review all that was lost. Mourning occurs, anger flairs, more mistakes are made, but eventually there is redemption. And that space recaptures all that was yours, not shared, not borrowed, not pretended. Writing was mine, is mine, and will be mine. And it will not be done to prove anything to anyone or inspire legions to do the same. I will write because I can, because I want to, and because it matters.

Siempre,
Anacaona

Bad Girls Club: Season 3 Finale

This should be posted up on Combinationsfollow.com, but in case for some reason it doesn't make the bar I'm posting it here. Why? Because it's my blog and I can do what I want...if you enjoy, please visit me occasionally over at the link above. If you don't, well stick around here and I'll talk about breaks ups, being a single mom, and why i hate ignorant people, deal?

Doot Doot Doot Doot Doot Doot-This is the Amber Show. Hi, this is Amber and this is Amber and this is the Amber Show...and if you recognize this line at all then you too have been wasting your life Tuesday nights at 10pm for the last 10 weeks or so.

Now for those of you who don't know (or are too ashamed to admit if you do), The Bad Girls Club is a trusty little gem of a reality TV show on the Oxygen channel's weekly line up. Now what else is on Oxygen's line up, I wouldn't be able to tell you, but they seem to have a winner with this one. The Bad Girls Club, in its 3rd season and moving quickly towards a 4th, is really a show about some girls who fight too much, f*ck too much, and probably have no friends in real life because if they did they would not be ALLOWED to come on TV and perform as the imbeciles they appear to be. The recipe is a classic mix that doesn't seem to need any changes at this point: Take

1. 7 women with personality problems (aka Bad Girls) that want to be on TV
   
2. Put them in a beautiful house with no supervision or rules
3. Tell them that they are here to do better with their lives (don't explain what this means or assist in the process)
4. At night, escort them to every bar and club in LA while paying for all drinks
5. Install a vending machine full of sex toys (a Season 3 addition that was waaaaaay overdue)
6. Sit back and watch as the girls break down into cliques/crews {not unlike every major stage of a woman's life anyway...think about it...Kindergarten-Death, you gotta have a crew}. And when the girls aren't screwing random men they meet at the club, or the beach, or the front door...
   

• Enjoy the miscellaneous fighting over:

1. The simple: Ex. Juice (Season 2: Tanesha vs. Jennavecia)
2. The complicated: Ex. Respect (Season 1: Ty vs. Aimee)
3. And the Unintelligible: Ex. Being too drunk to notice escalating anger (Season 3: Amber M. aka Cookie vs. Most of the Fab Five)

How could you avoid such entertainment? What are "the others" watching at this time, really? Judge me all you want, but sometimes you have to sit and watch girls attempt to kick the sh*t out of each other over nonsense. Why? Because you secretly want to kick the sh*t out of a bunch of people you interact with on a day to day basis. You just don't because you need your job, it's not the right thing to do, you might actually get your ass kicked if you tried, etc. But in the meantime, as the original theme song stated, "Love me or hate me, I'm still an obsession".

Now truthfully the Season Finale went as expected...

• The girls cried "I've never had girl friends before and now I have all these girls in my life"
  
• Talked about how much they'd grown "10 weeks ago I would have cut you up and thrown you in the pool for that comment",
  
• Discussed how they were going to miss each other "F*ck you, you dumb b*tch, you need Jesus". Really??? Can you advise someone to look to a higher being after dropping the F* bomb? Maybe, that's all you can say to de-escalate such a situation...
• Took inappropriate pictures of themselves (for old time's sake) and destroyed the house (cause they're not paying for the damage)
  
• And last, but not least, what happened in Cancun, did not stay in Cancun as it was revealed that one of the cast members who had been refraining from sleeping with a male on the show, totally screwed a random guy in a pool in Mexico....ehh, you win some you lose some I suppose.

So in the end, what do we get from our gem? In a nutshell, don't sleep with random men, don't fight with your girlfriends over things that don't matter, and don't talk about your friends behind their backs...if you're being followed around by cameras 24/7. Otherwise, it's all fair game!!!

Anyway, I'll be back next week taking a look at another winner from the VH1 network, Tough Love...in the words of the Bad Girls,

See ya Bitches!!!

Peering Back In

I know I've been missing for well over a year and frankly most people wouldn't believe half the reasons for the absence. But what is most important now is that I've decided to come back-I'm going to be double posting for anyone who actually cares or passes through lol. I am going to be here with personal/social commentary and blogging from time to time on Combinationsfollow.com I will be reviewing Reality TV shows because if I waste my life watching them, I might as well practice my writing and review them.

I feel more than pleased to get back on the Blog horse--

Amor y Paz en abundancia,

Anacaona

'Cause Mary J's always got it right...

"No time for moping around, are you kidding?
And no time for negative vibes, cause I’m winning
It’s been a long week, I put in my hardest
Gonna live my life, feels so good to get it right

So I like what I see when I’m looking at me
When I’m walking past the mirror
No stress through the night, at a time in my life
Ain’t worried about if you feel it
Got my head on straight, I got my mind right
I aint gonna let you kill it
You see I wouldn’t change my life, my life’s just…..

Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, fine,"


Let's just say that for now (and hopefully for a long time lol) I've got nothing to complain about. To be thankful for-there's plenty and while it may be well past Thanksgiving, when I thank God, here's my list:

1) A beautiful, healthy baby boy
2) A pain in the ass boyfriend who I wouldn't trade for the world
3) A family going through growing pains (always) that never fails to make me smile somehow
4) Friends who've made it a mission to stay in my life even when our lives don't cross paths as easy as they did in college
5) A new job that pays me what I deserve and makes me proud to be a social worker
6) and dare I say, a stunningly gorgeous WOMAN that stares back at me every time I pass a mirror whispering the secret that she always knew I'd be happy and get all the good I deserve--I love that WOMAN.

Mom meets blog

I would like to write a post about mommyhood. I've been thinking about what I would write and have even rewritten it in my head a couple of times. The only problem is that I'm too tired to write/type it. I know that if I start, it will be longer than I expect and frankly I don't have it in me. So I'll just share the first few things that come to mind before I fall asleep on the keyboard:

1. My son shits alot...I think he got it from his momma lol-It's better than him being constipated...except that middle of the night shitty diaper changes have led to shit on my finger or hand on more than one occasion...shit that I haven't noticed until I crash back into the bed and...well you let your imagination run with that-
2. My breasts hurt-I love breast feeding Joseph and I hate breastfeeding Joseph. More to come another day.
3. If you see me on the news and my identity is revealed, it will be because my boyfriend has gone missing and I am the main suspect. My motive: Once again, the baby will not go to sleep until 6 or 7 am. My boyfriend, on the other hand, has no problem drifting off into that good sleep. I decide to "take him out" as revenge.
   
4. If I don't go outside at least once a week, I think I will LITERALLY go crazy, not figuratively, I WILL START TALKING TO MYSELF MORE THAN I WOULD PRE BABY AND IN A WAY THAT MAKES PEOPLE UNCOMFORTABLE AND PRONE TO STRAPPING OTHERS ONTO BEDS.
5. I love being a mother already. The journey has just begun and I know that it is a thankless job and I know that it will make me cry on more than one occasion and I know that my life will not be mine anymore and I know that this will piss me off sometimes and I know

that i wouldn't have it any other way.

The Vagina

Pre and Post Delivery my mom said, "People don't realize how physically traumatizing delivery can be on a vagina".

Truer words have never been said. And as I live day by day, mommying a beautiful, newborn boy, I sometimes forget that I'm also healing a hurt and vulnerable vagina. And while I would love to write a beautiful, flowing post on how I have taken my old vagina for granted and am slowly getting acquainted with my new vagina (who's a good sport too) but not my old vagina, I must feed the beast, i mean the baby, who loves to nurse at his mom's oh so friggin huge breasts quite often lol. So I say this for my vagina for now,

Vagina if you were a person, capable of silly wants and desires and frustrations, here is what I would give to you:

a hug
chocolate ice cream with strawberries
a massage with yummy smelling oils
a shopping spree
a new book
and time to read it
the job you want
leisure time you enjoy
riveting conversation
passionate sex
an orgasm
an orgasm
and
an orgasm

....or maybe that's just for me...

***shouts to sonnets for making me come back***

:-)

Drum roll please.......................................

Hello blogworld,

I'm officially home now with my beautiful baby boy Joseph Ajani *last name withheld for privacy lol* . He was born on October 3rd at 3:16 am--8 pounds 11.2 ounces and 19.5 inches. I would say it was a typical labor which means that in one word it would be described as OUCH! lol Unfortunately, I did have some physical complications as a result of pushing (separated a pelvic bone/cartilage area) and will be needing physical therapy for a few months to get back to walking like a normal human being-no worries I'm already recovering well :-) Anyway, I look forward to writing a new post about labor, delivery, and a new baby...but that will not be happening anytime soon I don't think lol

Anyway, thanks for all the well wishes and prayers! I will try my best to upload a pic of my gorgeous boy (it's true...he's amazingly beautiful...I guess I shouldn't have expected any less given the gene pool LOL)

love,
Anacaona

Edit: Obviously I added a pic lol.

I'm off to have a baby

send me your prayers, wish me luck, offer good vibes, whatever works lol

I'm going to have to ask you to leave

you see that and the other ticker on here reads "Hooray, I've arrived"-yeah that's a lie because I have a nine pound (plus) baby in my uterus who seems to have no desire to evacuate the premises. Now, I've had different talks with him:

Encouraging: "Hey baby, it's not so bad out here. There's alot of people who want to see you and spoil you and buy you stuff-plus you might be the future president or something"
Humorous: "Please come now because the new season of Grey's starts tomorrow and I don't want to miss it".
Combative: "Give me my body back...right now or i'm going to leave you in there forever..."
Pleading: "Please get out, you'll like me and daddy, I promise"

None work-he's stubborn like his parents (who knew???). And granted most first babies are late, but everyone said I was so active there was no way I would make it to my due date let alone afterwards, but alas they were wrong. An truthfully it wouldn't be so bad if he weren't so f*cking huge lol I was expecting an 8 pound baby plus some ounces-i was 8 and some ounces, my boyfriend was almost 9-but yesterday he was 9 pounds and 3 ounces and i'm not supposed to be induced until Monday night. He could gain half a pound in that time-9.9 gadzooks, no vagina could/should be able to do that. Yet, I don't want a C-section because I'm scared of it, the post-surgical pain, the horror stories. On the plus side, no pain of pushing big ass babies out of my cooch, buttttttttt still scary as are most major surgeries. I've read up on C-sections so that I'm not caught off guard in case that is the option presented to me, but it's hard because my mom had one C-section and 4 natural births and she says the C-section was by far her worst birthing experience. I try to tell myself that everyone's body is different and her recuperation could have just been worse. I also say that her C-section was 15 years ago and that's got to make a difference in procedure, but people seem to love to tell you all the horrible things that could happen...right before it might happen to you. Humans are soooo nice to each other aren't they?

So, here are my fears mixed in with a couple of tears and I wish I had a better last post before giving birth, but I doubt I'll be on this again until my baby makes an appearance. Wish me luck people

or send me money

or both

just kidding

kind of ;-)

Peace and God's blessings to all.

Always,
Anacaona

Guilty pleasures and not so pleasurable guilt

okay, I don't know how to say this
it's kind of embarrassing
I should not be so excited
and I won't really be able to explain it

BUT--

JLo *cough cough* I mean Jennifer Lopez (Anthony?) is preggers!!!!

now I really hope this is not a rumor and I don't necessarily consider InTouch Weekly the most credible source, but let's entertain the possibilities here for a very pregnant woman's sake :-)

As I've told Jrnywmn, I don't know what it is about JLo-she's not everything I've always wanted to be, but she's everything that it might have been cool to be. Come on, let's put the possible criticisms on the shelf, and delve into the guilty pleasures of it all--

She's Puerto Rican

• So we've got a major player in Hollywood-score one point for me

She's from the Bronx

• I grew up in Brooklyn and I live in the Bronx now

She wasn't from a really dangerous part and had a house

• I eventually moved to CT at 12-people tease me about that, but I'm from Do or Die Bed-Stuy so shut up lol

She can't sing, but obviously loves to and refuses to let it go

• Same here, it's just that no one cares about me hehe

She can act...if the character is Latina

• Who's to say that this isn't true for a white actor? Can Julia Roberts be Puerto Rican? I mean not the stereotype, but be a believable Puerto Rican in general? Remember Marisa Tomei as a Cuban woman in that The Perez Family *this is me puking* Why should JLo have to learn to play the universal white so convincingly? Think about it...just think about it.

She can dance her ass off

• ...I'm just jealous...

Her husband is Marc Anthony

• Not a cute man at all in my book, but he can sing so f*cking beautifully that I would be willing to sleep with him with the lights off so long as he sings "Se me sigue olvidando" the whole time...any pauses and it's over though...
  

Okay-anyway moving on, so the article says that she's about 12 weeks pregnant and it might be twins because she'd been in treatment trying to have children for a few years. If this is true, I'm uberexcited for her because it brings reality to the fact that procreation is not so f*cking automatic for many women. For a person who is struggling to have a family, the stress and anxiety can weigh heavy on a woman and her partner. I have friends who've tried everything to have a child and were crushed by miscarriages, failed treatments, and false alarms and with my own pregnancy I've learned that little in life can be taken for granted.

Some parts of me wish that Jennifer had discussed her attempts to have children because I think it could be uplifting and empowering for many women who feel less than because of their struggles. At the same time, I know how private these matters can be so I definitely don't fault her for not feeling the need to be the fertility spokesperson on this. I wonder though just how many women of color struggle with fertility issues and whether we have any place to really discuss these things. In between the negative stereotypes of our 'fruitful' procreation and the (sometimes more disastrous) "positive" stereotypes as natural mothers and matriarchs, where do woc discuss the anxiety, the stress, the pain, and frustration related to family planning in every sense of the word? Do we stay secluded throughout the struggle until we are 'successful' in whatever we were striving for? Do we continue to whisper our concerns and fears only when we know the other person is experiencing the same things?

I find that even though my pregnancy has not been a high risk one and did not come after years of fertility issues, I do remember testing positive for Group B Strep not understanding what it was, being afraid of what it meant, and more importantly being embarrassed because I thought I had done something wrong. Group B strep is not like strep throat, it can be found in the intestine, vagina, and/or rectum and can harm the baby if it passes along to the child during labor. How could I share something like that? My bacteria was in my vagina-did it mean I was dirty? (NO-there's no correlation between cleanliness and this bacteria) Was I a bad pregnant woman? (NO) Could I have avoided this? (NO-I was probably a carrier of the bacteria for years, but it won't make me sick, just a baby in the birthing process) Was my baby going to be okay? (Well, the bugger is still in my uterus, but according to all accounts he should be fine if i receive antibiotic treatments during labor and he gets them directly shortly after) Either way, I realize there are people that I consider close friends who I still didn't reveal this information to even when I was taking three amoxicillins a day. Even armed with information and first hand accounts from women who'd experienced the same thing, I remained embarrassed.

But why whisper? Who are we hiding from? What are we hiding from?

Whether it's about fertility issues, birth control, STD's, sexuality, abusive relationships (physical and non-physical), funky things like Group B strep-I'm tired of whispering. Tired of looking for the others in the dark who are probably tired of looking for others in the dark. I want to find them. I want them to find each other. I hope they want to find me.

I want to stop whispering...

Can't capture this in a pic

Reposting a poem you can find here on BlackAmazon because I've never read this poem before and I wish so much that I had and for the few (the proud-oh wait that's the Marines I think lol) who read me:

AND WHEN YOU LEAVE, TAKE YOUR PICTURES WITH YOU
Jo Carrillo

Our white sisters
radical friends
love to own pictures of us
sitting at a factory machine
wielding a machete
in our bright bandannas
holding brown yellow black red children
reading books from literacy campaigns
holding machine guns bayonets bombs knives
Our white sisters
radical friends
should think
again.

Our white sisters
radical friends
love to own pictures of us
walking to the fields in hot sun
with straw hat on head if brown
bandanna if black
in bright embroidered shirts
holding brown yellow black red children
reading books from literacy campaigns
smiling.
Our white sisters radical friends
should think again.

No one smiles
at the beginning of a day spent
digging for souvenir chunks of uranium
of cleaning up after
our white sisters
radical friends

And when our white sisters
radical friends see us
in the flesh
not as a picture they own,
they are not quite as sure if
they like us as much.
We're not as happy as we look
on their wall.

When it's almost time to deliver...

you think about a whole heck of a lot.

I've been home for almost 8 days and the truth is that most times it blows. I have a baby due in less than 6 days and frankly there's no way to prepare for that. Sure, the bassinet is up and the room is painted (though I still can't find any f*cking borders grrrr!) and he's got enough onesies to wear to high school, but otherwise, you're just stuck. Wondering if the next moment amniotic fluid will come gushing out of your private parts or when some kind of pain you've never felt in your life will make you want to deliver the baby yourself...with your bare hands. So, in the meantime, I'm stuck at home watching TV and

I don't know what I was expecting from daytime TV, but it sure as hell doesn't deliver. In fact, I think I've forgotten just how horrendous it is between court tv shows and daytime soaps and Dr. Phil et al and their pre-packaged brand of counseling-it can be too much. I try to focus my time on three channels, TLC, HGTV, and the Food Network, but really how much Baby Story, cook-offs, and house makeovers can one watch before you're left singing along to Stacie Orrico's "There's Gotta Be More (To Life)"...

What would I like to watch though? That's the interesting question because I think we're so used to watching garbage that if someone asked us what we would want in a TV show daytime or 'prime time' I'm not sure we could answer. I like comedy. But I also like documentaries. I like to learn new things, but sometimes I just want to laugh. I want to see my life on television because that shit is funny, depressing, thought provoking, and anything but wholesome. Okay, so maybe not my life exactly, but something like it.

Even that is a post unto itself-the absence of Latina(o)s in the media-you know real ones with multidimensional personalities who struggle with more than just what to do when you're making rice and beans and realize you have no Sazon-THE HORROR!!! What about a show that focuses on a Latina trying to balance family and a career--with the Latina as the central character-not the supportive co-star who shines as the flawless matriarch who in the end knows how to 'put family first' or the spitfire who decides family and career are incapable of being intertwined and forgoes the former or the funny girl who's everyone's friend and secretly waits for the responsible, yet seductive man to make her feel whole (even if it means putting up with his infidelities). I guess realistically I know women like that, but I know a HELL of a lot more who aren't. Women who want to discuss sexuality with their daughters so that they're not duped into thinking sex is for men by women. Women who want to question policies in their workplace that obviously favor whites or men in general for that matter. Women who want to make noise and have their voices heard and be called bitches because after all, in our world, that seems to be the ultimate compliment.

BITCH= A woman who is assertive, strong, and unrelenting
BITCH= Woman unwilling to compromise on her principles
BITCH= Woman willing to call a spade a spade, an asshole an asshole, and a racist a racist
BITCH= Woman dedicated to defining-not being defined

I say all this after watching the season premiere of America's Next Top Model, re runs of Top Chef, and the new Kitchen Nightmares (on Fox with the guy from Hell's Kitchen). I say this after realizing that I probably lost very important brain cells in the process. I say this as I'm about to head back towards the TV because in the final days of labor-there's just not a whole heck of a lot to do. I say this as I hope (pray, plead, you pick) that in the LEAST, there's something funny on the tube that doesn't necessarily insult whole groups of people for the sake of cheap laughs--talk about setting low standards...

*sigh*

Facing the boogeyman

Today is my first day of unemployment-in some ways a blessing, in other ways a soon to be burden. I'm going to enjoy daytime TV again (because I've missed a whole lot these past few years), but in what I'll call two and a half paychecks a.k.a. a month or so, I will wonder whether it is worth it to keep my cable on.

It wouldn't feel so bad if I were on maternity leave
It wouldn't feel so bad if I were coming back to my old position in December
or a new one
that pays more
and garners slightly (just slightly) more respect ;-)
It wouldn't feel so bad if my old Exec. Director didn't create a new job for a white, male colleague of mine
who's been at my job...maybe 4 months...
whose day to day responsibilities are less than mine...
who has no proven experience in the area he will now enter...

THE BOSS says that my friend,
"seems to get along with everyone, is a schmoozer, reminds me of myself as a young man, and is basically charming as fuck". He was disappointed that he hadn't gotten to know him better in his time here (4 whole months maaaaaaaybe)-I guess my boss forgot that he doesn't know me either.

After all, I've only been there for over a year (15 months to be exact). I'm only one of two Latino(a) people in the organization. I only have breasts and a vagina (nice breasts too, but even that doesn't count). I can count the amount of times I've talked to the Head Honcho and the majority of them were during pregnancy and about? You guessed it-pregnancy. Because otherwise what would we talk about? The work that I do? What I want from my career? What I could provide our organization? Nonsense-I'm a pregnant Puerto Rican female...

with a master's degree at 23
who has worked since twelve (unofficially) and officially since 15
and was the first in her family to graduate from high school let alone graduate from undergrad and graduate school

*Tooot fucking Toooot* Yeah that's my horn-I toot it myself for all the white men who'll never toot it

who won't know I have a horn
let alone how nice it really is
who won't ask
and won't care
but will promote men "just like them" who are factually less qualified than I am for positions

I spoke to Jrnywmn and TS about this and initially didn't blame my friend for taking a more lucrative position he KNEW he wasn't qualified for (how do I know he knew? because he came in to talk to me to discuss why this promotion made no sense and how he didn't understand where it was coming from). Now, I do blame him. Because being complacent in unjust actions is wrong-Deep down inside one has to know there is something fishy going on when of all people, the one young white male who just started working in an organization (his first office job ever mind you) gets the promotion of a lifetime over any other woman (young and old), any other male (minority), and older staff. One might argue he would provide a fresh perspective-I would argue bullshit. What makes a perspective fresh? Under 6 months of experience? White male existence-because we know that's universal...

Hell, I also blame myself for not being more direct with my 'friend', but the truth is I've never stared white male privilege in the face like that before. It's like the boogey man, el Cuco, the thing you swear you can hear while you're sleeping in the dark, but can't honestly say you've ever seen.

and I'm angry
I'm disappointed
I'm hurt
I'm embarrassed

Because I don't want his job, it's not my interest per se-yet there is no way the Head Honcho would have known that. So he just didn't ask, didn't offer, didn't care and instead possibly set off a new current-a new trajectory for a young man who is nice enough, but doesn't deserve the big break yet.

I guess at least I won't miss the hypocritical emails about how "our organization" is dedicated to diversity and finding ways to increase it. I think we can continue to promote the 4/5 minorities we have (less than 10% of staff) into various positions after yearssssssss of stellar performance of course (much more than 4 months). We can create research groups to analyze, research, and study how race, ethnicity, and gender impact "our work" (this currently exists). And we can track the demographics of our applicants to make sure we're being 'fair' when we hire the white guy or the white woman instead of the ethnic other. But we'll continue to miss analyzing ourselves
our staff
our hierarchy
our leadership
those with the most power
who create the most harm
and don't even notice it in the process

Some call it reality
I say
You can keep that shit...

I swear I'm not trying to bite...

I know that some people in the blog world have been updating their blogs and cleaning house *cough cough* TS...I JUST wanted to change the color of my last post, but instead it kept changing the size, going invisible, everything but what I wanted, so the only way I could save the posts...at least to the computer doofus over here *cough cough* ME-was to change the template before I break my computer at work...

so yeah


but it does feel nice to have a new background :-)