Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Addicted

I’ve been keeping a secret. A huge secret that I hoped no one outside of a few close family members and friends would ever have to know. This secret has taken me three years to come to grips with, but sadly I fear that if I don’t unburden myself that the situation may never get better. The secret, as painful as it is to share could change the lives of so many people around me for the better, and I just refuse to sit in silence as everyone else around me suffers.

Three years ago, I was introduced by a friend (or who I thought was a friend) to a very hush-hush society of individuals. Without getting to far into it, I got hooked on something that I am not proud of. Something that haunts me every single day and makes me feel powerless to stop its hold on me. I know that by telling others I will have more and more trouble obtaining and hiding my addictions but I feel like nothing good can come of my current path. That is why I have taken it upon myself to change and bring this shameful secret out in the open.

I am addicted to Korean Fried Chicken and though you may have never heard of it, its powerful stuff. Korean Fried Chicken is difficult to obtain, and I have driven as far as New York in order to get it. I’ve never told certain people because I fear they will clog my beloved retailers and I will never have the opportunity to get it but now I see that by not speaking up, I could be hurting myself even worse.

As of November 2011 there are zero Korean Fried Chicken spots in the whole of Maryland. This is shameful and appalling, and frankly I am getting really tired of driving out to west hell or Virginia just to get it. It’s a tedious process and gas aint cheap. I was lucky enough to find one in Annendale but let me tell you, that’s a long ass ride and not at all fun. Then I found out they opened one in Fairfax and I vowed to spend my gas and time going there, but it struck me that there is not one single Korean Fried Chicken place in my home state, and while I don’t mind visiting NYC or VA its certainly not convenient. Probably better for my waistline but whatever! I need that Chicken!!!

There are at least 4 franchise options that could be staking their claim in MD but they aren’t. No Bon Chon, no Kyedong, no KyoChon and no UFC (unidentified flying chickens) in my state. Hell, only Bon Chon is outside of NYC and if you knew what I had been through to get that, you would lobby the first Korean you saw to open a stand in my state. Anyway, the reason I am even doing this is because possibly by drumming up enough interest someone will see what a great idea putting on in MD is and fulfill my dreams. I mean, I already know there is an untapped market. Most people love chicken, they love it more when its fried and well I don’t have to tell you how much black folks like chicken. We have dollars people, and frankly I am not giving them to the Colonial or Annie from Popeye’s. A Korean franchisee could be raking in the cash in a central spot like Largo or Greenbelt. Seriously, making a killing. And the thing about KFC is that if you build it they will come. They will believe I promise, because there is nothing else like it and we will keep you laced in the finest for the price of a few plates of chicken, pitchers of beer and cups of pickled dakon.

My issue is this, I would start one myself but (and not to sound racist) but do they even give those franchises to non Asians?? They are all based in South Korea, and I tell you right now I would be hella lost on that business deal. I just know that it would turn a massive profit.

So this is my plea. Please for the love of all that is good and holy someone place a Bon Chon or any of the others in my neck of the woods. I will patronize you like a damn zombie and never leave your side and I will bring all my family, friends and associates to worship at your temple of tasty chicken at the risk of not getting any for myself by flooding your store with believers. Please don’t make me keep driving away from my home I already gave up on Sonic, don’t let me lose faith in you! Sincerely, the KFC devoted from the state of Maryland.

Monday, July 25, 2011

Tears Dry on Their Own



Sad day in the life of Avin. The world lost a phenominal and troubled talent this weekend. I have been pretty quiet about my feelings on the subject (maybe because it still hasnt sunk in) but the passing of Amy Winehouse has hit me hard. I am trying desperately not to show it. I dont even know why honestly, I mean when did it become okay to hide emotion just because someone was rich and famous? Or worse because they lead a self distructive life? So maybe you arent riddled with addiction, but I bet there are some not so smart things youve engaged in that you are less than proud about and would hate to hear someone say "well, that's what happens when you xyz" about your untimely passing.

Sigh, in plain terms I was a fan. A real fan, who felt the notes she sang, and clung to Back to Black with the shattered pieces of my heart after the worst break up of my life. She got me through it and she built me back with Frank, and she made my heart soar with the B-sides when she filled my space with her rendition of Cupid. I still sing her Mark Ronson single Valerie as often as I can and the day I was blessed to go see her in concert in Philly at The Electric Factory, I new I was witnessing something special. So, yeah this hurts a little.

I wont even get into the path of ruin she was on. Everyone knew it and for months or years to come people will belabor and bludgeon her hard core drug use and alcoholisim. Unless youve ever loved someone struggling with additction then you probably will not understand. Frankly, I dont know what exactly was plagueing her but I hope that her soul is at rest.

Today is officially delcared Amy Winehouse day here and I will sit and mourn with my Amy station on Pandora and put Back to Black on repeat in the car on the way home tonight. How odd that I can listen to her music and when Teena Marie passed all I could think was "too soon, cant do it". I still dont think I have fully listened to a Teena song since that day.

Here is the piece that I wrote on her back in 2007.

"It’s the soundtrack of her life and its messy and complicated, but that’s
what makes it beautiful. Its layered, its heavy and its thought provoking
and downright as blunt as it gets. Its as smoky as any blues bar and so
personal it
reads like a diary. Its just Amy."

Rest in peace Amy, may your Grandma Ava be waiting there for you with free tickets to see Nas.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

I'm On One...

One being a business trip of course. Every year about this time someone thinks its a grand idea to make me criss cross the damn country doing all sorts of work related nonsense. It is what it is people, so I can't fuss about it too much. I just remind myself that their is college to be paid for and overtime to be collected. Thing about the travel is the fact that you typically derail any weight loss plans or progress you've made prior to said trip.

This year was no exception and I found myself in the city of Chicago (Chi-town to some of y'all) and eating my way through a 10 day business trip. Basically, you work 13 hour days, don't get breakfast, barely score lunch and use your entire stipend to fill your belly with whatever is available to you at 8pm. The good news about this is that I had a bonafied Chicago restaurant foodie toting me around from place to place, so to say I ate well would be a huge understatement. This year's restaurant bucket list additions include The Girl and the Goat, where EVERY.DAMN.THING was good. From the home made bread and himachi appetizer to the dessert. Just fantastic. Another great addition was Blackbird and let me tell you I have probably never eaten that much in one sitting in my life. Everything was fantastic. Gruyere Ice cream? Banana Pan Pardue? Lamb bacon? Hawaiian black sea bass? Hell yes!

Okay enough about the food in Chicago. It was long and tiring and it put 5 of the 25 lbs I lost since March back on my behind. We will get to the weight loss thing in a second. So, then I came home and had a 5 day turn around before I flew off to Boston for another 6 days. To even insinuate that I was tired by then was a joke. My attitude started to suffer before I could clear security at O'Hare, so I was not looking forward to being cooped the fuck up with Drunky and a host of other needy folks. I spent most of my time waking up too early, moving tables for some crackhead facilitator, trying not to go to jail and eating. Eating being the most enjoyable. So by this time the size 10 pants I bought to go to Chicago are now extremely snug in Boston.

I am guessing I cleared another 4 to 5 lbs in Boston due to some seriously good eats. Most of which occurred in a little cafe/bar called Geoffrey's. Too much BLT, sweet potato fries, key lime pie, prosecco drinks and Disco Brunch. Oh and there was this thing called a donut muffin that probably caused some sort of irreparable damage to my system and very well could have shaved off years. It really was delicious though, just wrong but delicious. So I got home Tuesday, still in a pretty surly mood. Like seriously I don't really want to talk to anyone and I am not all that interested in being here. I was just nasty as fuck to a dude on the phone who probably didn't deserve it but had his facts mixed up. Don't assume dickhead and don't call here asking what my title is. Needless to say I just need to go the hell home and chill out. Its safer for everyone.

Oh and its 300 damn degrees today, so that isn't helping my disposition either. I am worried about the dogs being home in all this heat this weekend without Daddy and Bud and I am hungry again cause I had to basically start over again on my diet. Lets talk about the diet shall we?

So, I probably didn't mention it here but sometime in April I got the MF'ing flu. Full blown, terrible knock you out with fever and chills, sweating through clothes, barely coherent and miserable flu. Who the fuck gets the flu in April? I mean I had the exact same issue I had last time I got it which is I felt the signs, went to my doctor who told me it was fuckin acid reflux and then I spent the next week half dead with the flu. Seriously, can y'all get your symptoms straight? I know the difference between reflux and the GD flu!

So I spent my conscious hours watching daytime tv which included Dr. Oz and he was talking about the Dukan Diet. Low carb, low fat, high protein. I watched it for as long as I was awake, then I did a little more research once I got better and then I bought the book. Went on it in May in preparation for the graduation and immediately lost 5 lbs in the first 5 days. So it got better and easier as I went along and lost a solid 10lbs in less than a month. I started telling my mom about it and frankly anyone who would listen. This shit works people, no bullshit. So now mom is losing all kinds of weight and despite the heckling she is getting from her sister and friend she is looking real good. Really there is only one week of protein only and then you are on protein and veggies the rest of the time. I figure you can do almost anything for a week, especially if it works but hey y'all go on and keep laughing at my diet I will keep laughing at you trying to zip your pants.

On a whole other note, I have decided to hide my dumb ass ex husband's statuses on FB. The whole family is just crazy and stupid and they spend all their time telling FB about it. I cant have this kind of drama in my life and it reminds me that my son has been 100% better off for not having these loonies in his life for the last 18 years. Get thee some professional help and stay off my damn timeline.

Okay that's it, short and sweet.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Turning Tables

All kinds of crazy has been happening to my life since I left you and I guess I better catch up. Lets start with the good news, my wonderful son graduated from High School last Tuesday and I didn't cry my eyes out too much. I am proud and happy and just overjoyed for him. Now on to the crazy. You remember that open letter I wrote here for my ex husband? Well, there have been some developments. I think I best just take it back to the beginning and work my way down from there.

Sometime last month I was toiling in fields of this hellish plantation when my little "you've got a friend" request went off. I will cut right to the chase and tell you that it was none other than my ex husband asking to be my friend on FB. I figured that someone told him that I had just posted pictures of his son from the prom. Nosiness in my mind seemed to be the only thing that would warrant such blatant fuckery and line stepping on his part. So after I ranted, smoked half my pack, downed some anti-psychotics and basically melted down like a fuckin crazy person in this bitch, I proceeded to bury myself in work for the remainder of the day to remove myself from it. It was like having the devil look over your shoulder for 6 straight hours. Words cant even begin to describe the level of seething hot anger that was radiating from me. None the less I managed to make it through the day and not lose too much more of my cool, but it was close to being a real situation for me. I saw this as my opportunity to send that damn letter and be done with his absent ass once and for all. So, I sent him a FB message and asked him for his email address, which surprisingly he supplied. I was loaded for bear and ready to lower the boom with that incendiary device of a letter. Finally, I was gonna say my MFing piece about all the years of bullshit.

Now ask yourself if that's really how it went down....Yeah, didn't go that way at all. Somewhere between the plantation and the metro station I had a fit of conscience (which is unfamiliar territory for me considering my "act first think later" mentality) and started thinking about my amazing, wonderful (and completely dying on the inside because he cant reach his fuck of a father) son who wants nothing more than to have his dad see him cross that stage. At that moment I knew what I had to do. I had to put my letter on ice and give my son his father's email address. Damn it I hate when I make sense. So before I could start dreaming up more insidious and hateful shit to do, or worse before I could talk myself out of a smart decision I went home and gave him the email address. Then I told him hurry up and get in contact with his dad. I was unhappy but I knew it was right for my son.

So then I told my mother what I did and she told me I had done the right thing. Of course it didn't feel like it. I hate the high road because the path is full of rocks and thorns and the air is thin. That's when my son walked in and told me his father was very excited to come and wouldn't miss it for the world. Before that moment I just felt nauseous, after that moment I was hoping my suicide wouldn't be too much of a clean up. Seriously though, I was not looking forward to being in close quarters with this dude and my folks, and my poor boyfriend (who's 30th birthday was the same day btw) on my son's day of crowning achievement. Now I have to play nice, fan-fuckin-tastic.

Oh but hold on, it doesn't end there. Then, my cell phone buzzed and wouldn't ya know it, there is a text from none other than my fail ass ex husband. He wants to know why when he sends me a friend request I ask for his email. I didn't answer that honestly but I wanted to. I wanted to say that you came this close to getting a letter that would hand you your pathetic ass but nope, I just had a reasonable chat like an adult and that's when he went left and hit me with the apology.

That's right you read it right, this fool, Mr. missing in action sent me a damn apology and a thank you for raising my son. What does that even MEAN???? Seriously, what is that? I mean it was a general sweeping thank you and apology but still. I processed it as "You did an awesome job raising my kid while I was off playing daddy for some other folks, now that he is 18 I am sorry I wasn't there to help but now that there is no money involved I am back". Then, he says to thank my parents for all they did to get our son to this point. I am looking around like I am being punked. Seriously, where is the hidden camera? Just let me know now so I can get the shock over with.

He decides that he should share how he moved out of his marital home with that fat, non cooking sow he married and that he has changed, grown up...found god (stop me when you start to gag or your eyes refuse to roll back down out of your head) and wants to make amends with everyone he has hurt, especially me and his son. So I said, oh okay and then I stopped texting and went the hell home to drink a bottle of wine. I couldn't deal. Prom nearly took me out emotionally the Saturday prior and I had just spent the evening licking envelopes and mailing out graduation announcements all while having a text conversation with the person I possibly hate the most in the entire world while he tells me that he wants to make 13 years of emotional torture and mental pain right.

I came home and I couldn't even get the story out to Erica. I just cried through the whole thing. Blubbered like a damn fool cause I was even more angry than I had been prior to his contact. How dare you want to make it right now, after all the hard work is done. Between sobs and gnashed teeth I said "I could have lived the rest of my life without ever hearing this. I was fine hating him, and now if I don't let him make this right for Billy I am the asshole." So I slept on it. Fitfully mind you. Maybe it was the half gallon of wine I drank to drown out the emotion of the day. Needless to say after that chat I was not looking forward to graduation day. I decided that the text chat (and the friend request) warranted some sort of response. So the next day I wrote him this.



Hall,

Listen I really appreciate the conversation we had last night. Billy
is really excited that you are going to be able to come to his
graduation. He has worked much harder than you know for this moment
and it meant a lot to him to have you there watching him on the
biggest day of his young life. He is super proud of himself and he
should be.

As for the Facebook friendship thing...I don't want you to take this
the wrong way but I don't know if I am really ready for that. I have
spent a whole lot of years being very disappointed in your involvement
in Bill's life, and while I honestly believe that you mean me and him
no harm its tough for me not to still have some anger where you are
concerned. I forgave you a long time ago, but its been hard to forget
so give me some time. I don't hate you, but there is still pain.

What I really want is for you to get to know your son. Really know
him. He is about as cool a person as you could ever know. Smart and
funny and really genuine of heart. Doesn't care about money or titles
or where he falls on the popularity scale and he already has his
career picked out, which btw he is really good at.

You and I can work on this friendship thing. I am not against it.

I will let you know what the deal is with the bus
situation. We will get it worked out.
Tiff
See that? That's me again, on the GD high road. Why in the world would I feel it necessary to respond? My son, that's why, and anything that makes him happy is gonna be what I do. The letter isn't quite as sincere as it looks. I mean, come on who really forgives and forgets? Not me pal, I just threw that last bit in for gramatical color. There were a few more emails. Him explaining, me explaining. You know....hell you don't know cause I don't know. It was just weird.

I figured that the weeks between Prom and that day would be filled with angry tears and enough red wine to float a ship but things were so crazy busy that I just simply didn't have time to commit to any of it emotionally. Sometimes the lord knows what he is doing when he makes you so damn busy you cant see straight. Graduation straight snuck up on me and with it so did that fail ass bus lady's email at 4pm on the Saturday before. Telling me "sorry, I didn't get your seats" which sent me into another emotional fit thinking about what was gonna happen when we had to drive down there. Would I be stuck in a seat between him and my boyfriend? What the hell was going to happen to me on Graduation day? That's when I remembered that I wrangled 4 extra tickets from that fool at the school and because of the bus problem I wasn't able to use one. I managed to get my son's favorite cousin invited and that broke up the seating enough to make us take three cars. Its a damn good thing I am smart.

So the day arrived and I was running around like a damn basket case. I am pretty hard to unspazz once I start, and this day was no exception. I got my son out of the house early and I came back and got dressed and tried not to be unreasonably ill. At this point I am gonna fast forward cause the graduation was a blur. He was very cordial, and really not at all what I expected. The day just flew by. Introductions, driving, parking, running, sitting, snapping photos, leaving the venue, more photos, walking, more driving, more photos, lunch and that was that. He was gone by 3:30 and I dropped the kid at a graduation party. The boyfriend and I went to his dads to finish out his birthday and the evening ended.

I feel like I left something out.....Oh wait yeah the part where we had Bills party Saturday and a check came from the child support office for $600. Could have knocked me the MF over with a feather. I was shocked and I damn near passed out but once I got over the shock I hurried up and put it in the bank. That was Sunday, father's day...and well...I friended him on Facebook and my first official olive branch was a happy father's day post on his wall. Did I say I hate the high road??? I just don't understand myself sometimes. I guess its cause I want all this so badly for my kid. Cause if being understanding and letting this dude make amends will give him even an ounce more happiness then I will do it.

How do I feel about all this honestly? I really don't know. I mean some of those emails we exchanged got weird. Like, there is a real foggy retelling of the past on his part that almost made me flare up but hell just cause I remember 13 years ago like it was yesterday doesn't mean that he does. That and his new found comfort with expressing his feelings sort of vexes me too. At a point I thought he was hitting on me (which I highly doubt now looking at his new GF) no seriously, he said something about touching my hand during the MANDATORY prayer at Kevin's memorial service (yall remember, where I had to babysit his monkey ass) and he said he "felt" something (pause, blink blink). I stopped short of telling him that what he felt was the searing anger lapping at the surface of my composure. That was upsetting for sure, that and he uses the word love very liberally, like shaking on salt, which I find confusing and well...bitch made for a man. Not only that but he is way too chummy with me like the 10 years prior to the split were fodder for good times, jokes and drinks. Um no, you put me through hell homie I haven't forgotten. Last but definitely not least is my utter distaste for his professing to make it up to ME personally. You can go head with that man, I'm good. I don't need to be made up to, I need you to do that with the boy. Do I still hate him? Ehhh fuck me I don't know, but do I think he is the braying ass I pegged him for 3 months ago? Time will reveal. I am willing to see how this goes.

In the end I did send that letter and to his credit he took it for what it was and again apologized and admitted that there was nothing untrue in it. I give him a little credit there. That letter was a motherfucker. Granted, I am not liking having him in my daily consciousness. Its tough watching his every damn move on FB and trust me he posts a whole bloodclot lot. Photos and shit, its ridiculous. Hall checked in here, Hall likes this restaurant, Hall likes this bar, Hall got new tires here, Hall quotes this bible passage (no seriously wtf) Hall is in a relationship with Tina. BTW that makes three T's as relationships. Me, the new exwife and the new girlfriend. Its getting out of hand. I am not gonna tell you how to live your life man but you probably shouldn't get another chick's name tattooed on you. Let me not even go there about the leaving your marital home in February and being in a committed relationship (sans separation agreement and divorce decree) by June. I think this is how some other stuff popped off in June of 98. Let the dust settle, damn.

I would like to add one spiteful note to this post because I dont spout off about the bible in all my emails and FB posts, and I still cuss like a sailor and occasionally drop it low. I think that karma is amazing. This week thanks to FB I had the pleasure of seeing my exhusband post photos of himself and the new girlfriend with his two children by the new exwife. I immediately flashed to that time that my son came home from a week long trip with his daddy and new girlfriend (that's new exwife to you) and announced that he was made to sleep in the bed with them the whole trip. He didn't even know we were splitting up. That crow must be cold and greasy new exwife, and that karma must be hot like fire. You reap what you sew bitch. Good luck covering up that heinous wolf tattoo with Hall's name. Okay now I am done :)

Friday, March 04, 2011

WINNING?

I wonder if everyone would think the Charlie Sheen thing was so hysterical and full of quotables if he were a black man. I mean mental illness isnt funny to start but what kind of reaction do you think the public would have if this were Denzel? Or Tracy Morgan? Remember when Martin was waving that pistol in traffic a few years ago after smoking some boat? Yeah...exactly.

Would it be funny then, or would he need to be locked up for the safety of society?

Thursday, March 03, 2011

Look At Me Now

Couple of things to report. First, I am tired of traveling all over this TSA laden land of ours. Enough already! I perm, I fly, I perm, I fly. That’s the only reason I know it’s time for my relaxer, cause I have some plane to get on. I know I just said that all this travel afforded me the opportunity to eat like a pig all the damn time but really I am over it.

Next, I got the opportunity to meet my soon to be brother in law’s new girlfriend. Never mind that he is still married to the soon to be ex sister in law that I only formally met once. She seems really nice. Quiet though, which could be an issue in a house full of drinkers and cussers. We will see how that turns out. Oh and while I am at it this meeting reminded me of something. I boost no one’s stock in the “I go hard” department. If you want a hood chick then don’t look this direction. I will do nothing for your street cred or your “keepin it real” points. I am a light skinned, 35 year old woman from the Montgomery County suburbs. It’s clear that is where I am from and I don’t intend at this age to try and toughen my image.

Sure, I am crazy as an escaped mental patient and handy as fuck with a blade. I am coated in tattoos and have very little if any qualms about cussing someone lower than a dog. I drink like a fish and smoke like a chimney but do not get it twisted. Hood, I am not. Go score your Jackie O/Trina/Khia points somewhere else. If you aren’t okay with me looking like that keep on moving down the lane. Good thing my man is not at all troubled by my suburban look. He is aware that under my New York and Company fa├žade I am unstable. It’s a part of my charm.

Next up, I would like to address with growing concern this idiotic sentiment that when something goes wrong in a relationship every woman is either bitter or crazy. I might have always been crazy, but bitter I am not. I think that’s an excuse that soft ass people love to use when they don’t know what else to say. I said what you wanted to, or I called the bullshit I saw. Don’t be upset because I hurt his wittle feelings. Grown men who curl into the fetal position when names hurt them should just go get their nuts removed and women who defend that gump ass behavior should donate their ovaries to them. Stop being scared all your life. Oh and for those of you who thought it was awful that I wrote that letter to that fail ass ex-husband of mine and that somehow I am showing how “bitter” I am. You can eat a dick while you continue let your baby daddies’ walk all over your soft asses. Not me, but thanks for thinking you know my life.

In other news, I have 3 months to buckle down and get this damn weight off me before everyone and their momma wants to take a pic of me and the newly graduated son. I don’t feel like hiding behind him in every photo (which I could do if I really wanted) so I will just slim down. I am certain that the boyfriend will not be excited about his participation in this weight loss journey, but we both pledged to be healthier this year and take off a few of those liquor induced pounds.

Speaking of liquor….You know, when you call me and tell me with a heavy heart that your pancreas up and quit on you after years of abuse please don’t expect sympathy when you call again to tell me that you through a damn fit like a 5 year old and went drinking. Especially after someone told you something you didn’t like. This only serves to remind me that my father is not hardly thinking about growing up and will continue to repeat the same damn behavior time and time again. I called to check on him cause I felt bad for not feeling worse about his predicament. Of course I can never call without hearing a tale of woe. I mean, you did something fucked up and now you are sorry and I am supposed to be shocked? In other news, water is wet. I can’t.

Oh back to the boy. His 18th birthday is Monday and I am very excited for him. Welp that’s it. I don’t really do birthday excitement so “Yay Bill!” I hope you enjoy Maggianos and the movies with your friends. He doesn’t seem all that big on birthday’s either if you ask me. That’s a damn small request for turning 18 LOL. Wait till he sees what you get at 35!
In closing, I hate my fucking job. Goodnight and god bless.

Friday, February 11, 2011

Deuces The Remix....An Open Letter To My Son's Father

I said I wasn't going to do this, but I didn't realize how strongly I would feel about it until the day came, and now with that day right ahead of me, there is an inescapable pull to say my piece, and this is exactly what I am going to do. I didnt even bother to write it as my alter-ego. This is real life, and this is me at my most sincere.

Dear Hall,

On March 7th, 2011 our child will turn 18. I have some pretty strong feelings about that age and what that milestone really means for him, but more than that, I have spent the last 13 of those 18 year practically silent on the subject of your role as his father. As the day approaches I am filled with questions about his future that I can not answer, like who will he turn out to be, will he continue to be the conscientious and caring young man that he is today, will he find love, and employment, and happiness in a world so filled with obstacles and hate? Furthermore, will the sins of the father color his maturity as he rushes headlong into manhood?

Its been a long time coming, a lot of skinned knees and ear infections, a lot of late nights and early mornings, a bunch of empty pockets and unfulfilled promises, and more than that there has been a lot of absence. Namely you. Our marriage didn't last, and I grant that it wasn't supposed to. I am not the same girl of 12 that embarked on a grown up, interracial relationship with a boy of 13 from a broken and dysfunctional home. I am not the same girl who rebelled against her parents to conceive a child with that boy and attempt marriage at 18. Who I am now, is something far different and far greater. I am a mother in the truest sense of the word. A lot older and wiser but that is who I am. That is what I chose.

I will never understand what made you decide to walk away from your son. I will never comprehend how even if you detested the very sight of me you could just stop giving a damn about him. You spent countless years ducking the child support system and forcing me to run all over town chasing you from state to state for a measly $200 a month. A figure that was never increased, a figure that sometime you paid, when you felt like it or not at all for years at a time. $200, which I always figured was the equivalent of beer and cigarette money, that you couldn't send your only child at the time, to ensure that he was fed or clothed or whatever. It wasn't a lot then, its not a lot now. I wonder how you justify it. I thank god everyday for my parents, that they were so willing to step in and help Billy and I survive and that's what we are talking about. Survival. If you didn't want to be married, that was fine. If you didn't want to have a black wife to explain, that's fine too, but to just up and not give a shit about the child that carries your name's well being? Never, I will never understand it.

Then you went off and married a woman with a child from a previous relationship. As hard as it is to admit, I was unbelievably hurt that you would walk away from a marriage and a child to adopt and support another woman and her kid. I know that some day my Bill will do the math and realize that while you were playing house with another woman he was being shoved aside. I never thought you were a racist, but maybe you were. Maybe it was just too embarrassing to have a little brown child call you daddy. I will never know, but I do know this. I didn't run out an remarry (although I could have) and let some other man raise my kid or have a revolving door of men in and out of his life. I am sure you don't know and don't care how difficult it was for single black mother to date. I am sure it wasn't even in your consciousness how many times I was looked at like a pariah for being young and black with a baby. See they don't ask, and don't care if you were married and your husband walked out on you after 5 years, they say "Aww, look at the statistic" and treat you like your stupid. I put up with the assumptions and the whispers and sometimes the downright blatant and direct discrimination but I was taught a valuable lesson, no man should ever define me and no person's opinion of my circumstances should matter. All that made me stronger for my son.

So now I understand that the marriage you threw us aside for has ended and I cant help wonder what will become of those kids. Will they be treated better, seen more, supported more because they and their mother aren't brown? Will you hug them more, love them more and tell your friends about them even though the marriage crumbled? Will you give them what our son deserved in a father all those years ago?

The list of offences committed against your first born son is shameful and I remember every single one and this list is just the tip of that iceberg. I remember him having to sleep in a bed between you and your new wife before he even knew we were divorcing. I remember him coming home from that trip and looking at the picture of me in my wedding gown and saying "Daddy never should have married mommy". I remember him having to sleep on the cold floor after just having his tonsils out because you were too selfish to give him the bed. I remember him coming home missing clothes, or with dirty clothes, or without his blanket or his stuffed animals because you didn't want him to have them. I remember him coming home from trips feeling like he was an outsider and you wouldn't spend any time with him. I remember how skinny he was and how his bones protruded through his back when he came from visiting one summer because your wife cant cook and he was hungry for a month. I remember you calling me every time you found out some news through the grapevine about my son that would undermine my parenting skills. I remember him having to sleep on your sofa and watch your ever growing brood of "new white" children all summer while your fat wife sat on her non-working ass. I remember the year he came home an told me that you bragged about the support you sent me for him and I had to break down the entire structure for him so that he could see how much that really was and I remember you yelling at him for clogging your toilet and feeling like he couldn't even take a shit in your precious house. What I remember most recent is telling him after he tried and tried to get you on the phone for Christmas, not to worry about it, or you sending me a Facebook message about him not thanking you for his 3 week late Christmas gift, or that you have no idea who his girlfriend Mia is. I remember telling him when the subject of you helping with college came up that he was going to be 18 soon, and that he shouldn't count on any support from you in his endeavors.

What I don't remember is birthday cards or gifts, questions about school, visits, you and him time, consistent support, Christmas presents that "HE" asked for and giving a shit in general. I don't remember any of that happening. Never, none of it. You had time to raise an entirely new family all while ignoring your first born. With the exception of your sisters side of the family, no one even gave a shit that Billy was alive. To this day I don't believe your mother has ever called him on his birthday or Christmas. Through all of that I never kept him from you. I never stopped him from seeing you and I never told him anything disparaging about you. I let him make the choices. I assume for you it was easy to walk away because you knew we would do your job for you.

We did do it. The three of us. Me, mom and dad we raised YOUR son. We filled his belly, and planned his parties, and bought his school lunch and clothes. We gave him warm rooms to sleep in, and toys, video game systems and books and pets. We gave him encouragement and love and scolding when he needed it. We dried his tears and listened to his dreams and took him on trips. We were there for his first day of school, his swim meets and his first broken heart. We gave him freedom, and haircuts and expensive ass tennis shoes, cell phones, suits and pocket money to take his girlfriend to Chipotle. We gave him what you wouldn't. A family. We provided what you couldn't. Love. We did all this not because you were absent, we did it because he was present. I wont list the sacrifices we all made because they honestly don't matter. The double jobs and late nights don't mean a thing. If I had it to do all over again I would do just that, because he means the world to me. The pride I feel for my son could never be tarnished by what you did or didn't do for him in the last 18 years of his life.

So, in conclusion let me say this. I wrote this letter for one reason, and that is to say goodbye. See, no matter how excited you must feel about never having to intermittently cough up $200 for the son you conceived and largely ignored I am quadruple that amount happy for never having to engage in any communication with you again in life. 18 means something different to all of us, and for me it means that the relationship that I made Billy have with you, albeit pitiful and sparse is no longer my responsibility. My son, the one that you chose to neglect, is the sole barer of that responsibility and he will determine from this point on whether or not HE wants to deal with you. On any level. My silence is over. My protection of you in the eyes of my kid has ended. I will not lie to make you seem better. I will not bite my tongue about your shitty parenting, and I will no longer force him to make any attempts at contact with you.

For everything you did to us, for every torturous year of pain and neglect we still made it. Billy and I are walking out of the other side of this tunnel holding hands, mother and son. An unbreakable bond of love and support. We are stronger than we've ever been because of each other, because not only did I guide and show him the way, he showed me too. He gave me the reason to believe in myself and push hard to become who I am. He taught me how to love, and he showed me what the meaning of work ethic is and what the word fight really means. We really are okay. He is, I am, they are. We are all just fine.

In closing, I usually end all of my break up letters with the same phrase and as this is the biggest most important breakup letter I've ever written this will be no exception because I have probably never meant it so much.

Good luck in your endeavors
Tiffany

Monday, February 07, 2011

All I Want Is You

Or in the case of some women, all they want is anyone who will take them. So, there is this other blog that I read on a daily basis. Of course I am totally a lurker and I never ever comment, but just recently he has has a guest blogger on talking about relationships. She in turn did a fabulous post on the art of the chase called "Who's the Rabbit" which totally spoke to me. Not personally, because for the first time in about 17 years I do not have any relationship issues. Basically, it spoke to me because I have so many female friends who are content to be the rabbit (which isn't a bad thing mind you) but the lazy, whiny, injured and pathetic rabbit. You know, the limpy rabbit that the wolf decides is WAY easier to catch and dismember than the fast moving bunny? Sigh, so many times women have convinced themselves that they have no active role in the chase. So you are pretty, and so you are thin (for now) and you've got all the flyest clothes and shoes that your maxed out little credit card can buy. Gold star for you I guess, but what happened to having any substance and really what happened to not falling into the arms of the first dude you meet every.damn.time.


No one is saying you have to be Ms. Hardcase but please for the love of god stop being the low hanging fruit. I have one friend who is going to marry every man she has ever dealt with. Now, they aren't aware of this fact and most times once they catch wind they get gone fast, but she seriously has NO standards. They can be broke, corrupt, boring, ugly, diseased (sorry but its true) too young, too old, perpetual liars, have no job, no car, no future and she will still take them. Every time its the same scenario, she gets too close too fast, introduces them to her kids (like that has ever stopped a man from leaving) and starts planning the wedding. She is 40 and I would chalk it up to her biological clock but she already has two kids and she has been doing this since she was 22 (I shit you not). Every break up is the end of the world, and every man was the one. Even if he left you stranded three states away and took your bank card and car.


I suggested (stupid me) that perhaps she might want to look within for answers as to why this was happening, and then she got pissed off. Seriously people, I know how much we hate admitting that we have issues, but if you cant honestly look in the mirror and go "you know what, I might have done XYZ or I might need some help with my self esteem" then you are just doomed to repeat the same behavior patterns time and time again. BTW this particular breakup has been going on since September. As usual I am trying to be supportive, but her willingness to curl into the fetal position and die is just astonishing to me. When was that ever okay? Sure, you are hurt and it sucks and maybe you were blindsided by it, but there are ways to handle it. First off, if you really want to wallow in your own self pity, then at least do it right. Get on the couch, get fatty foods, cry your weekend away and on Monday morning get your ass out the bed and paint on whatever smile is gonna march your ass through it, and keep moving. Seriously, if you have time to let this consume your whole life then you need more to do. I am blindsided when its time to go get my brows waxed again. That's how busy my life is. Crying for weeks and months? In who's world?


Also, if you aren't going to do anything about the fact that you've chosen to be pathetic and broken (and lets be honest, you chose that) then do not be shocked when things don't change. Don't be angry when you are still sitting up crying cause you still answer his calls and he decided to use you as a punching bag. Seriously, don't do that. It makes you look completely insane. Furthermore, I cant figure out why you would want anyone to know that they have broken you like that. I got my shit rocked at a fitness class one time and wouldn't let the instructor see me limp away I'll be damned if I ever let some man think he broke me. When did it become okay to show the world you are beaten? Even if you gotta fake it till you make it that's way better than letting life (or some dumb ass man) kick you when you are down.


I use her as the example but really a lot of them are the same. I have friends who turn a blind eye to blatant disrespectful fuckery and cheating. I have friends who go back to the same abusive asshole time and time again. I have friends who think if they are subserviant enough that a man will value them. I have friends who nod and smile and agree with any and everything a man has to say and I have friends who are just like the Perils of Pauline. Always tied to the railroad tracks waiting to be rescued. God forbid I suggest to any of them that they pick themselves up and march forward. You would think I asked them to kill a puppy! Its like the idea of being responsible for ones own misery is an affront to their femininity. Ladies I promise you can still be cute and strong. You can still care about yourself and how people treat you and wear a dress. The two are not mutually exclusive.


I know that I have probably mentioned it before but perhaps the reason I am not doing any and everything I can to please a man is because I was already married. I already have a child. I already know that none of these things changes a damn thing if you are already damaged. You just spend your time damaging your kid or ruining a marriage. Without the incessant tick of a biological clock, I am free to care about one thing. ME and I do care. There is no man I would ever put above my own safety or mental health. There is no prize large enough to make me blindly follow somone who clearly doesnt have my best interest at heart. Sorry, but my mother taught me better than that. It stinks of desperation. Oh and women if you think a man cant smell this type of desperation, fear and self pity all over you, you are sadly mistaken. You are nothing but prey. Easy pickins to be later discarded. It hangs on you like a cheap coat and its not at all attractive. They see you cowering over every little thing, they see your daring but desperate outfit, they know you shouldn't be your age in the damn club looking for a relationship, and they know damn sure well that you shouldn't have bought that lie they just told or that coat they are wearing either. Just have some pride about yourselves. They are hungry, and you are gonna get ate.

Monday, January 31, 2011

Here we go again...

So I know that for the last year and a half I have been gaining weight like its my full time occupation. Some if it is the whole being in a relationship thing but a large part of the problem is my love for red wine. Think about it, you get home from a hard day at work and settle into whatever program is entertaining and what could be better than a lush and full-bodied bottle I mean glass of ruby red wine?

Flavors of dark berries chocolate, espresso and black pepper accompany heavenly aromas. Seriously, who could not love this?? So, my greatest love is also my biggest downfall and the reason I am rocking this roll around my middle. Nothing says pack on the pounds like 500 empty calories and 4.7 grams of carbohydrates right before bed. Anyway, I am back to dieting again which is now more like the cousin I go visit in the fall and the spring. Familiar yet annoying.

This diet thing always makes me so damn hungry, and it looks like every time I restrict what I eat I find new and exciting restaurants to try out. So, this year I decided that I am going to create a 2011 Restaurant Bucket List if you will. Filled with cant miss restaurants and chefs. Last year is going to be pretty damn hard to top honestly. I managed to eat at some great places all over the country. Here are just a few of the highlights.

Art & Soul - Washington, DC - Chef Art Smith crushes the oyster hoecakes and Maryland style fried chicken.

Upperline - New Orleans, LA - Foie gras appetizer and Honey Pecan bread pudding with Toffee sauce.

Dante's Kitchen - New Orleans, LA - Shrimp and Grits. No seriously.

Cafe Lurcat - Minneapolis, MN - Miso glazed Sea Bass

Bar La Grasa - Minneapolis, MN - Soft eggs and Lobster bruchetta with truffle oil and authentic fresh carbonara.

Boudreaux - San Antonio, TX - Duck 3 ways and table made guac!

Biga on the Banks - San Antonio, TX - Tempura gulf shrimp with chili-lime noodles, watermelon, peanuts and mint. Oh and the sauteed mushrooms!

Zinc - San Antonio, TX - Truffled Parmesan fries and amazing wine selection.

1500 Degrees - Miami, FL - EVERY.DAMN.THING the Porkbelly tacos and duck fat fries. Oh and I got to meet the chef so I am particularly partial to this place.

I've been to plenty of other places too, but these are the standouts. I mean unbelievable meals that wont soon be surpassed or forgotten. This years list will have a lot to do with location availability but I am going to try my damnedest. So far I know that I will be in Chicago, Boston and San Diego this year so that will determine quite a bit of what I get the opportunity to sample. Also, there are a few restaurants here at home that I am dying to try out. I just never get the opportunity. Oh yeah, and I am supposed to be dieting. Only I could start a post about dieting and end it with copious amounts of food. This is going to be a long year.