Now a word from Lili

That's pronounced leelee. It is short for Literal Linda. She is going to be voice of the thoughts that I take literally when people say it's a joke. Lili understands that the ideas that people place out in the world under the guise of flippant are not always. We (ahem, that is to say I) will be exploring the world through these literal eyes. This will make some people angry.


Lili writes:

So the whole six weeks of playing the same seven songs...I don't care how you mix is, it is the same song...has begun. Now there are only three weeks left. Like I'm sad about it ending.

Of all these songs that are continuously grating on my nerves "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" happens to be my most hated.


I absolutely Hate. That. Song. It is the worst. What is it with these kids that they are so against their moms? Then the only way for the mothers to confess themselves innocent to ruin the aspect of Santa delivered gifts. So either it's I-hate-my-mom-because-she-cheated-on-my-dad or it's all-this-time-dad-pretended-to-be-Santa. Either way sucks. It is the beginning of youth passing through to leave jaded young individuals.

Okay, one for her too.

With her it's an automatic role of sophisticate that does the announcement.

Ladies and Gentlemen, (yes I have to start with this cliche, it just works for me)
(an hush falls over the crowd)
We've watched her rob banks and run with the vampires.
Go on blind dates with for her mother and take trips in space with her brothers.
And now she is here. Direct your eyes to the stage and witness the amazing.
She brought to life our favorite plain Jane, though she is not plain at all.
Ladies and Gentlemen I give you
(^for some reason it feels right to say this a second time)

Kristen Stewart


More work history in this one. Now I'm wondering what event would warrant an introduction of this kind. I don't watch enough events to know. Looks like I need to start cuing in on my competitions. Ha!

For some reason I wanted to write this intro for him

I don't know why.


Ladies and Gentlemen,
What you've all been waiting for.
He's what all the girls dreams are made of.
The next in line member of the wolf pack.
Ladies and gentlemen put your hands together for the hottie with the body,

Mister Taylor Lautner


Now the emphasis on the words of this announcement changes from wanting to be ring master to attendee of an awards show. It started as me wanting to introduce him as if I was at the circus. But for some reason that equates male voice to me. Then when I changed it to awards ceremony, it lost it's excitement. Instead it went to sultry, elegant woman. The one with the arched eyebrows and PERFECT makeup. With the former rush some phrases and allow myself to be a tad crude. I get to be loud. With the latter I have to approach the words softly and insert phrases like "for lack of better words." I don't know which one is more fun. I feel an interview coming after both, but still. Ring master garb, or spend the night as an elegant lady? Decisions, decisions.

I do enjoy where my mind takes me.

Hide the kids...the whites are coming!

When I look at my friends and force myself to focus on race, I find that most of them are white. To this I say "So what?" What is the big deal with a girl hanging out with more of the opposite race than her own? Why is there a quota on the amount of black people a black person should hang out with? And why do the select black people have to be a certain type of black to count? These questions were apart of my everyday life. I am a black, dark skinned, oreo, African American, whatever you want to call it...I'm not white. However, most of my friends (best friends) are. I have searched my soul to figure out why. Since everyone else has an opinion about it, it's time I answer the question for myself.


I enjoy the company of my friends. I like being able to laugh at the silliest of things. I love how they keep me grounded. While I am with them I don't have to be anything other than myself. Isn't that what friendship is about? Apparently not...I mean sure you want those qualities in your friends...just in those of the same race and ethnicity. Right?


Let's compare. When I hang out with the "certain" type of black person (the one that counts) I have to act as if I am in to rap music. I'm not. I have to get down with belittling myself and them with ridiculous put downs and terrible language. Don't get me wrong...I can cuss like a sailor at any given point. However in the long run that is not how I want to present myself. Everything I do has an affect on someone or something, whether I realize it or not. I don't want to leave that as a trail behind me. What good does that do?

I have always been a people pleaser. If I am going to be apart of a group I want to be one of the favorite members. It's my nature. When it comes down to the people I surround myself with, I want people to walk away thinking that I can hang with the best of them. Keeping my personal image in mind, that limits those that I want to be associated with.

I have received the same comment on more than one occasion. "Those white people don't care about you." To this I now say, "what do you know? You're blinded by hate." Refusing to accept that different race relationships are proof that people can love anyone. What is in that? Classifying an entire people as not being able to care about me. I don't understand why my crowd was so wrong. My brother and sister had white coaches and they never received that comment. What was so wrong with my friends? I didn't stay out with them until all hours of the night. I never had to sneak out to go see them. We weren't hanging around skipping school, drinking or smoking. Most, if not all, of my close friends were abstaining from sex until marriage. They kept me grounded in life not at home without phone privileges. We were the ones who graduated at the top of our class. They were the ones that had me put a filter on my disrespectful language. But they are the ones that don't care about me? Some of my best and favorite teachers that helped me excel were white. They knew be better than most. They encouraged me, nurtured me...but they don't care? Why are the people I am surrounded by the bad ones? They kept my performance in school top-notch. We enjoyed ourselves without fear that what we were doing would get us in trouble. Why are they're friends favored? The people who were smoking, drinking, having sex, pregnancies and abortions. Those that were being benched do to disrespectful behavior. That's the "certain" kind of black person to which I am supposed flock? That's the person that cares about me? The one who will sooner put me in a bad situation as look at me?That doesn't make any sense to me.


I know that there are some serious stereotypes in here. No particular race has an entire body that is one way. I know that. This is just a comparison of what I have in my life versus what I have been pointed toward. I don't like what I have myself become in order to enjoy myself with a predominantly black crowd. I just cannot find the correct black crowd that would count as black. People who have things in common with me are oreos. I don't get it.

Try to understand

I want to put this out there. So that people will finally get this out so there are no questions. I really hope that people are going to take this tibit of information and store it for future reference.

"Everything I do is NOT up for discussion. I do not have to explain myself. I did it. Deal with it. Just because I tell you about it doesn't mean that we have to discuss it. It doesn't mean that we have to go over how prudent it was or was not for me to have gone down that route. I am an adult and, believe it or not, I know what I am doing. I did it. It's done."

So, in the future, if I change the subject or end the phone conversation it's because of the previous tibit. I do not want to talk about it. No lectures, no discussions, nothing. It's done and over. Leave it alone.

put it all in perspective for you

I wonder if I will be wanting to say this if the situation rises...



exfriend: I slept with your boyfriend.



Friend 1: How could you?!?



exfriend: I'm glad I did it.



You: I'm sure you are. Sleeping with him has always been a dream of yours, right? Tell me, did he bother to take off all of his clothes while he was doing you? You were the temporary solution to hurt feelings. So, you know what that makes you, uh besides easy? That's makes you a thought that can be forgotten as soon as it came up. We allow one mistake each in our relationship. You were his. I hope he enjoyed you. It doesn't make him any less mine, or you any more his. You hold on to that kiss on the cheek that I'm sure he gave you, 'cause that's all you have left.



This is all oozing with dramatic looks and feeling being hurt. Then followed with a great dramatic exit. Riiight.

Suicide...emotional, at least.

Love...irritating. From watching it to participating in it. All of it, from the love of hobbies and animals to the love of family. From the love of friends to the passionate love of a significant lover. Irritating. That is the way that I feel about it and therefore I am a glutton for punishment, for I continue to base my pleasures in life on the works of love.

When I was in middle school I made my first assertion on why I was afraid of falling in love. From the depths of my twelve or thirteen year old mind I pulled some of my first philosophical workings...or so I like to think.


"Falling in love is like jumping off of a cliff into the ocean. I'm afraid that I am going to make that jump and while I'm falling I'll find that there is no water to catch me. Instead all that is there is the ground." -younger me.


That was how I felt of love. How I still feel, only with more things accompanying. Love is amazingly self-serving and stupid. What a ridiculous concept to destroy yourself as you are (no matter how content) to add another set of opinions and objections. All of this while knowing that there is really no way to please the both of you (with compromise comes the inability to reach one's true happiness, so to live a life based on compromise is depressing). Yet, as a human we want someone to be there and support us. To have someone in our corner to understand and show us that we are not alone. We are willing to reach for this fairy tale companion ship and to receive every forthcoming nightmare that rides on the prospect of idea of being in this "next" stage of life.


The next "stage," a new "level." The insanity of it is absolutely preposterous. Nothing is able to stay the same. From mannerisms to ideas of life. The paths that one had once decided to walk upon are all of sudden unimportant. The rules of the society forces upon us the notion that one must forget themselves and take to this other. But what happens if the only one forgetting is you? What happens if your attempts to do as much are disregarded? If you chose because society said you should...and now your choice is proving to be the biggest trial and error of your life? What then? Pick up and go again? Find the self you abandoned to be who you are now? Or just find that there are no rebates, that you are stuck with where you are and what you've got?


We do all this for love. Endure change, sacrifice, all for the hope that it is worth it...not guarantee, hope. There isn't much left in the world that we would do that for, especially in today's instant gratification society. What a thing to waste life on, to fear, to partake in. How do I know this? I might not have been in love, but I have loved to the point of obsession. I chase love. Chase it to beyond the point of logic. Even when I know that it isn't good for me, espectially when it isn't good for me. The obsession, the want to be with them, for them, plan my entire life around them regardless the lack of good that will do for me. I've been there. With friends, with family. I can only imagine what will come of me when the love that "One" is what's driving me. Everything I loathe, everything I resent will be exactly the path I walk down because of love. I may not have been "in love" but I have loved and the whole concept is stupid.


Love is emotional suicide.

How many of me...

A few years back I went to Howmanyofme.com to see how many people have my name. Well, I was told that there were two. Just two. And I was excited to hear it. I mean, with my spelling it's more unique...with the last name not being hispanic.

My best friend is the first thing that comes up when you type his name in Google. I wanted to see exactly what came up when I google'd me. I am very dissapointed to find that there are at least four other people with my name. Go figure. Between this site, Facebook.com and Myspace I am doing more than dabbling in the internet...how ever the only thing that comes up of me is an article in the city newspaper that mentioned me. Something about some play I did when I was in high school (don't get me wrong, it is one of my shining moments). It's the seventh thing that comes up. What I find funniest is that a sublink to one of my friend's facebook page comes up but not mine.

I guess it makes me happy that I am not that easily tracked down...not that anyone is looking.

I stand corrected...

but this will probably be the only time, so the percentage of this occurrence is just about non-existent.

I prefer the movie The Devil Wears Prada over the book. This has never happened to me. I am the first to contest to the book always being better. Always. However, even though the drama was jam-packed with amazing adventures - things that could not have been portrayed on the big screen without boring the audience to tears - the shortened and tweaked story line of the movie is slightly more enjoyable.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the book. It's just that a story about people not supporting your fight for success, a best friend developing into a raging alcoholic, and everyone everywhere swearing that they understand but refuse to lighten the guilt trips is borderline un-enjoyable in book format. I will give the writer kudos to the scene where Andrea quits. Actually saying "Fuck you, Miranda. Fuck you." followed by stating that she was done and topping it off with Miranda's famous, "That's all." Fan-freaking-tanstic! I do enjoy the book showing a slight companionship between Andrea and Emily, more detail on the ridiculous tasks Miranda assigns, and better look into Andrea's personal life. Though the movie wins me over in the end with an absence of Andrea's smoking habit, more Nigel, less friend drama, Christian being a debonair saint and less of an arrogant jerk, Miranda's job not being threatened, and Andrea learning how to dress herself (she never quite figured that out in the book).

In the end - and I can't believe I'm saying it - the movie wins.

Customer Service Sucks

When will people realize that when you are nice the person doing you a favor, you will get more out of that favor?

I witnessed it today. A person comes into a store and wants the manager to honor a price that was mistakenly placed on the box. It's funny how quickly someone finds the limits to their authority when you piss them off. My manager had all the knowledge and authorization needed to help the customer. However, the more she bitched the more things he realized he just couldn't do.

Believe it or not, the customer service reps want to help you. Without you we have nothing to do. It's when you take out your anger with the company on us that we lose interest in anything you need. We are not trying to piss you off. We are human and make mistakes...we aren't trying to steal your money. I'll one up this:

I am not trying to piss you off. (Until you piss me off, then I don't give a damn.)

I am not trying to steal your money. (I am a human who makes mistakes. It is possible to miscount.)

I would love to help you, but stupid people make me angry. When I'm angry you are not what I care about.


Moral: Be nice to the customer service rep and you just might get what you need. Piss off the customer service rep and you will lose.

simple, silver circle

To many people it's just a ring. A ring that I wear everyday, without fail. A ring that I have worn since I was a sophomore in high school. Not in the least bit ornate, just a silver ring.

To me however it is a promise. A promise made before God, the witnesses in the church, and my family and friends. A promise that I will treat my fellow women with the utmost respect, that I will hold fast to greater virtues than my fellow man, and that I will abstain from sexual intercourse until I am married.

Any promise made comes with a cost. For in promising the last I made a vow to live my life alone and only pass through the most trivial of relationships. I made a promise that barred me against finding what I want because no one abstains from sex when they can find it anywhere. When 199 out of 200 girls are saying yes why waste time with the ones who are saying no? I heard of studies that say marriages where the people waited until after there vows to have sex usually end in affairs so the people can see what else is out there. A person can't even be said to have a friend of the opposite sex without people claiming that they are sexually active with one another. In a world where it is so common, how can a girl find someone who will rise above the rest.

You never see someone change their disposition so quickly as when you tell them no. I've had men ask me to go get a room after knowing me for twenty minutes. I've been propositioned twice without having even exposed myself. I've had a pending realtionship die in twleve hours. I've even had a guy congratulate me for my commitment one moment just to try to talk me out of it the next. But why would I want any of them to begin with? Why would I even bother to long for a man who has no respect for me? I don't. My anger comes from it constantly being the same problem. From being perceived as piece of meat and not getting any respect becaue so many women prior to me have allowed him to believe that this is the way it should be.

• I'm tired of living in a world where a guy get a pat on the back for disrespecting girl after girl.


• I'm tired of living in a world where women are the only ones held accountable for the amount of people with whom they had sex.


• I'm facing the fact that because I refuse to put myself out there that most men won't bother to waste their time with me.


• I'm facing the fact that since sex is the key to a good relationship in this world that the men who do bother with me won't stick around for long.

I'm trying to cope with being and staying alone, because even though I feel the full weight of this small, silver ring on my left hand I won't rescind my promise.

Another eventful day...yeah, I should be so lucky

Boredom.

Pull item out of the box. Make sure it is the correct item. Make sure the correct amount was sent. Check this product off a list of hundreds. Set it aside to be put on the sales floor. Next item.

Do this over and over again. Get interrupted by unimportant phone calls. Return to the checklist slightly irritated.

Boredom.

A customer. Try to take care of them as quickly and as cordially as possible. Attempt to return to the checklist.

Get interrupted by a solicitor. Realize that you are not in the mood. Wonder where a "NO SOLICITORS" sign would best fit in the window. They go away.

Boredom.

Return to the checklist with even less motivation. Dream about a dream job. Wonder why this job so completely unstimulating. Shrug yourself out of the should-of-could-of-would-of mind set and accept your job for what it is...

Boredom.

Of all the things to interrupt my sleep...

why does it have to be stupidity? Well, actually the initial issue was a woman's inconsiderate decision. She got on the bus and decided that she wanted to make the bus driver's efforts of warming the bus completely moot by opening a window. Gee, thanks. And here I was thinking that I could make through one trip without my feet feeling like ice. She, however, was not the problem. They came when she got off the bus. The men who took her place were stupid. As I sit in the back of the bus -on one of the two seats that face the aisle- a man sits across from me. Following him are two other men who decided to sit on the very last seat that stretches across the entire back of the bus. The one across from me pulls out a black and mild -I thought that he had broken it and was going to try and repair it...I was wrong. He proceeds to empty out the contents in order to replace them with marajuana. Oh, goodie. I'm sitting in the middle of a drug deal. Then to completely display their stupidity they then go about asking each other the prices that they sell their cheese and wondering if each other are on pills because they can, and I quote, "get them any time whenever they want." Of course there always has to be one bigger idiot of the group. The man in the corner across from me had on swim goggles and was tweaking. He spent the entire ten minutes that they destroyed my morale with their presences switching back between rapping and speaking a monologue with barely enough space to breathe. Talking about how one of his dogs killed his cat, about the color of his dog, about wanting a new cat, about trying and not succeeding to pick up girls at a mall, and he kept trying to locate a mall where he can do whatever (probably deal drugs). All of this was background noise while his friend -the one with the marajuana- tried to make conversation with me. I don't want to talk to you, you're just as stupid as your friend.

Losers, they always flock to me.

There still are nice people in the world.

Everyday I catch the bus at the same time. Every day I fight myself to get up in the morning. And every day I grab a plethora of things in order to make it through the day. As a creature of habit, I realize that if I grab something that I don't usually bother with I end up forgetting something that I regularly get. Today I went for my lunch and a snack and ended up leaving my wallet.

I realized that my wallet was still in my house when I tried to get my money out for bus fare and nearly had a heart attack. Good thing for my the bus driver - who, let's face it, is a total flirt - is all about making sure that his regulars are taken care of. He allowed me to borrow $3.00 in order to get the bus pass that I needed. Then when I sat down on the bus another passenger, who shares the stop with me, went into her wallet and pulled out $5.00 and gave it to me. She said that it was in case I wanted to get lunch or something. She had left her wallet before and knew the feeling. Who would have thought that so many strangers would care to go out of their way to make sure a panicked, scatterbrain was covered for the day? Thank the Lord! There are still good people out there.

eventually the mask has to come off

So, there is this girl who decides to have a hymenoplasty, not because she wants to restore herself due to some back sliding she did in college. This really irks me. This girl is a "Western woman" of her own making. Raised under strict Muslim teachings in Birmingham, she lived her life without a backbone. Chopping up everything that she did to "all my friends were doing it...it was entirely accepted." Yeah, entirely accepted in the world of girls who have flings without thinking about the consequences. She takes birth control, becomes "sexually empowered" and sleeps with her boyfriends and some random guy from a party. All the while everytime she goes home she "plays" the devout muslim daughter for her parents. Praying five times a day, not listening to music, wearing her veil. She feels oppressed when she is in her parents presence. So, in the end she decides to agree to an arranged marrige to a Muslim in Pakistan? Why is that a good idea? She says that to do this is to be with a man who has the same beliefs as she does. No, it isn't. If she believed in the Muslim teachings so much she wouldn't be in the situation of having to recreate her hymen. She is doing this for all the wrong reasons. She has changed, not just strayed from her dad's teachings. She is a western woman. Living in the secular world and loving it. She says that she does not what to be "ostracized" from her family. She has already put a barrier there. She lied about her living situation for two years. She lived with her boyfriend, yeah boyfriend, no thoughts of marriage (which is against her strict Muslim upbringing). She stopped wearing her hijab, she was drinking, smoking, and sleeping around. All of this done with her hoping her parents don't find out. The only things that I can see for her future is her either abandoning her family to go back to her "western" ways or her killing herself to escape the oppression.

I am not knocking the Muslim world. I am not complaining about the male dominance. I am saying that she is chosing the wrong path. She needs to bone up and live her life the way she wants to. The Muslim teachings are not her beliefs. The only time that she claims them as her own is when she considers the pros of the marriage. All the other times she is "play[ing]" a role. What happens if her husband--who met her under the impression that she has not strayed from her beliefs--figures out a fraction of what she was into in college? She fears that her family could kill her if she doesn't bleed (honour killings are still justified), she could still end up dead at her husband's hand. You can't hide who you have become forever. Sooner or later every skeleton in her closet is going to be discovered.

grit my teeth and finish

I hate giving up on books without finishing them. On all the dozens of books that I have read in my lifetime, I can only remember giving up on three books. I will force myself to finish...I will try. Which brings me to today's point. I have decided that I would like to read a nice collections of books because I simply miss reading. A true geek, thank you. But I was reading a book already when I composed this list. Of course my review is premature and biased as I don't care much for athletes or football. The story centers around a displaced athlete and football jargon. I will finish the book, of course. His hormones are just really getting on my nerves. Between that and talk about the great game of Football Americano, I can't figure out where the story is going. It just this useless collections of words that isn't for me. I want it to end. I have better books to read.

I'm rolling my eyes at this book and I still haven't made it half way through. *sigh* This is so aggravating.