After Training Day went off, I flipped through the channels to see what I could see. I stumbled across Celebrity Fit Club on VH1. As I watch each participant recount their personal struggles, I turn inward to examine my own.
I started off so well in my Fat Fight. It really takes a conscious effort to be successful at weight loss. Last week was a very good week; this week isn't going so well. While I'm disappointed, I am realigning myself with the task at hand.
As I was listening to Ms. Countess Vaughn discuss her painful divorce, I realized, I too am going through a divorce. No, I'm not married, nor am I certain that's the best lifestyle for me. I am divorcings...self.
There was a me I used to be not long ago. I didn't like who she was. You always have to take the good with the bad, but the bad was gettin on my nerves. For the new me to completey emerge, there are some parts of my past that I'll need to completely sever ties with. This will be messy. Some feelings will get hurt along the way. If I don't change the old shit about me, I'll continue to attract the same old bullshit. I don't want it anymore.
I'll have to...renege: take it back, throw it back, rewind it back and start again. You know how you know you aint posed to be doing something, but do it anyway because you think "it's gon' be aiite"? Not even listening to your instinct, you proceed. Then get fucked up. Then FEEL fucked up. Um...yeah. That's me. I got myself in, I'll get out. What's important is my happiness.
In other news, I've finally stopped lactating. That shit sucks. Yes, that's what they were made to do, but it's a hassle.
I like people watching. While I'm on the train, I like to look around and try to read the expressions of other passengers. You never know what another person is holding inside. Once, a lady had a tear roll from her eye. I couldn't help wonder what she was going through to cause her pain. I wonder how many other people have looked at me on the train and wondered the same thing: "Why is this lady crying?" If they only knew....
The past couple of days, I've been slippin on my people watching. Why? Cause...I got Tetris on my phone!!! You know, that Nintendo game that you gotta flip all the puzzle pieces around to make em fit each other. Oh. My. Gahd. I'm so in love. It's better than sex. Pffffft. Ain't like I'd know what sex feels like since I haven't had any in a month of Sundays. That's one tangent I don't wanna go off on.
My ex is back at it again, that bizarre one that IMed me from another screen name. When I signed into Yahoo!, I forgot to sign in as invisible and damn if it wasn't open season. I spoke and all, attempting to keep the convo on a superficial level, as that's the only way I can deal with him. He can't seem to understand, for the life of him, that I want absolutely nothing to do with him. People that live in the past really scare me. Sitting round wonderin bout what the future coulda been is a huge waste of time when he should be out scouting for a woman that's willing to put up with him. He's not a bad dude, he's actually nice and thoughtful. I won't recount our dealings here, since I've done that in a previous post. Yes, I'm too lazy to link it. It's time for me to move on to the next phase in life and it certainly doesn't include him. I moved on; why can't he?
One.« ... now bounce.
Happy Valentine's Day to all!
*Edit* nOva sent me a cute teddy bear card thing. It so cute! */Edit*
As I was coming off the Metro this morning, on my way to work, I heard this dude say, "She got a stank attitude." While I can't positively confirm he was talking about me, my gut tells me he was. Don't understand why? Follow me.
I see this dude every morning, Tuesday-Thursday. He stands in front of the escalator, slangin the Washington Post Express, the free daily paper offered by major news carrier in the city. Sometimes I want a paper, sometimes I don't. He speaks. I speak and keep it moving. One day he tried to shove a paper in my hand and get me to stop. Dude reached out to grab my hand. I shook my head and kept steppin. Heown know me like that to be trynna touch me. I'm moving on to a new phase in my life and certain requirements must be met (more on those later) if a man thinks he wants to be part of my life. Besides, I can't stand scraggly facial hair and this dude was egregious with it.
Back to my original point. I do believe dude was talkin bout me cause I shut him down ere time he try to holla. I don't vocalize anything; the nod of my head will suffice. As always, I keep it moving. He aint the only one that tried. These niggas musta had a conference and decided that it's likely one of em will be able to get at me eventually. LMAO. The thought just made me laugh.
This is another VDay I'll be spending by my lonesome. I have the children of course, but just once it would be nice to spend this day with that special someone. I have issues with VDay though. I don't agree with having one day to celebrate love, as it should be celebrated every day. One day out of the year, early in the year, I might add, is not gonna make up for and negate past and future fuckery. Niggas treat this day like it's their year long apology. I. Think. Not.
What I have taken to do on this day is to reflect upon the past mistakes I made with men and how to avoid them in the future. Not the mistakes, the men. LMAO. Seriously, having a relationship is no small task and honestly, I'm not 100% sure I'm up for it. I want to make sure I'm making a verticle move instead of a lateral one.
Now back to these requirements I mentioned earlier in the post. BD3 is the cancer I once had. Now that he's been removed, I'm really confident that I can identify what I do and don't want. What I do want is a man that is intersted in being my friend, my buddy, my dawg. A nigga that reads something other than the inside of a cd cover (or the sports page). A nigga I can belch around or have a pillow fight. One that doesn't mind a chick flick and will admit to liking it, on the condition that I don't tell for fear of havin his gankstuh revoked. A man that knows his credit score and what it symbolizes. A man with goals, dreams and ambitions with a plan for implementation. A man that can cuddle. Is a sista askin for too much?
What's made me leary bout these dudes is:
1). Men that live at home. Please get out yo momma's house. Men that have never had their own place (and yes, they do exist) make me nervous. I refuse to take a man from his momma's house to mine.
2). Niggas concerned about flossin. Iown care what kinda shit you got: ice, tech toys, booty cars especially if you are the fellow mentioned above. That shit has no vaule and you won't get any kinda return on it. You'll even get less than half of what you paid for it if you were in a situation where it was necessary to pawn or sell it.
3). Sense of self. I think #2 is derived from lack of self worth. NIggas always gotta be seen.
I'll finish this list later. I'm bein lazy.
Holla!« ... now bounce.