Adventures on CTA

"I don't like the B*t*h.  Point blank period.  Sh*tttt.  This muthaf*cka bets get movin'....Sh*tttttt. D*mn, I'm hungry as a muthaf*cka!"

I'm no stranger to public transportation being that I've been taking it since I was a kid.  Of course now it's not due to the lack of a vehicle but because it's convenient (and cost-effective) for most of us commuting downtown for work.  I must say I've seen just about everything on the L....that's the elevated train for you non-Chicagoans. :-)

~Beautiful gold chain snatched off a foolish woman..neck bleeding. (Thought they were flirting. Even as a kid I knew not to tell them it was real...sigh.)

~Smartphone snatched from a woman that was way too preoccupied on FB.  Grab&Run out the doors as soon as they open.  (Of course she screamed at the top of her lungs and ran off the train after him...straight into his hood in the heart of the Westside.  Wonder whatever happened to her? We did call the police. Sigh.)

~Near violent altercations between the sexes...and the races.

~Way too private sexy-type convos between a woman and...a woman, about things I'd rather not have the visuals for.

And of course, the beloved homeless and mentally ill encounters.  Always fun running into a mentally ill gentleman who throws a cupful of some type of liquid at you because you didn't pay him any attention as you walked by.  (That junk barely missed me.  I was ready to give him some attention all right!)  That same gentleman on another occasion got a kick out of crunching (loudly) on some stank pork skins on an overcrowded train (you can imagine the odors that were already floating at the end of that long day)...and then peering over his cloudy bifocals at the rather nervous and slightly annoyed caucasian lady sitting next to him.  (Reaction only feeds someone like him.)  So of course the rest of the ride was filled with him crunching those stank pork skins directly in her ears...getting closer to her with every bite.  It was actually kinda funny.  Crazy man!

With all the experiences I've had and observed during my years of riding CTA, the most disturbing has to be the disrespectful cussing young 20s and under.  Many of them are absolutely oblivious to the fact that there are gray headed folks all around (i.e. elders) that they should be ashamed of talking like that in front of.  Someone seriously dropped the ball on passing on the basic respect that we used to be taught to have.  Certain things you just don't say in front of anybody old enough to be your parent...and especially if they are old enough to be your grandparent!  And don't get me started on the cussing that is directed at some little beautiful brown child that didnt ask to come into this world...especially not to some impatient immature little "I'm still a child myself" girl.  Arggghhhh! Makes me mad!

 It takes great restraint for me to not pull these little girls by their cheap blonde weaves and drag them to every elder on there to apologize, then stuff some toe jam smellin' crazy man pork skins down their throats and make them sit in the corner thinking about their actions for the rest of the ride.

Nay.  God don't like ugly. Sigh.

So I just quietly pray for their mouths to be shut and try not to roll my eyes. 

bite of the day ~ Lord help. They don't know any better.  Sigh.

thirtiesgirl

Trayvon Martin & the "self-defending" Zimmerman

Opinionated.  Aggressively opinionated.  That was me.  The younger me.  I didn't get into much trouble growing up (on my own that is)...except for talking too much.  At school.  At home. 

I remember my father pulling me into the front room of my grandmother's house, after witnessing me letting my bonus younger sister boss me around, manipulate and control me...mainly because she had toys that I wanted to play with and I had...nothing.  At least not there.  "Don't EVER let anyone take advantage of you.  Stand up for yourself."  I burst into tears because I knew I was being punked and had done nothing about it.  I was 5 and still feeling the fresh effects of my parents' divorce.  From that day, those words were burned into my heart, my bones...down to the marrow.  I developed a mindset that was quick on the trigger of defense if I even smelled someone trying to pull one on me...manipulate or control me.  I am not saying this is a good thing...and I acknowledge my interpretation of my father's words may have gone a bit too far.  But it is real...it is truth.

Because of this part of my personality, I have at times found myself on the wrong side of right...unbeknownst to me, of course.  Opinionated.  Aggressively opinionated.  Willing to fight "to the death" for what I believe is right....right based on the information that I have at that moment.  Problem is there have been plenty of times that I didn't have all the information...and I was in "fight to the death" mode  (for example, defending my fav cousin against accusations that he went in the bathroom and looked at my friend while she was on the toilet i.e half-naked....long story.  Sigh)....literally me and the accused on one side of the room...everyone else involved on the other side (outnumbering us)....and my mother in the middle with belt in hand ready to unleash the wrath, not because of the incident itself, but the LIE that followed.  Lying is her pet-peeve.  Sigh for me since I didn't know I was passionately defending a lie.

All that said, I learned a hard and valuable lesson after a few close calls where I put my foot in my mouth (and the accused let me...very willing to let me go down defending them on more than one occasion).  The Lesson:

BE SLOW TO SPEAK...QUICK TO LISTEN. PERIOD.

Because I have a tendency to upchuck an unsolicited opinion/verdict, this has been a challenge to say the least.  I am working diligently to do better.  Which is why I have not chimed in on the Trayvon Martin tragedy.  And it is a tragedy. 

I have nephews around his age...have worked with youth over the years....his age.  So it is especially heart-wrenching when a baby's life is snatched away...senselessly.  Seemingly coldly.  Gone too soon.  Angry cries for justice.  All things we normally say and feel when something horrible like this happens. 

When I look at the photos that have been circulating around the net of Trayvon, I see a young innocent-looking boy.  I honestly cannot see this child attacking a grown man as has been claimed. 

HOWEVER...

I was NOT there.  I didn't know Trayvon...and I don't know Zimmerman.  A picture does not speak to the totality or temperament of a person in all truth.  (I've seen folks in the height of misery pose for the camera in that moment, resulting in a very misleading picture of happiness and "I'm having the time of my life"-ness.)  What I do know is this young man is dead and Zimmerman shot him.  He has his version of the event.  Unfortunately Trayvon is not here to tell his side of the story.  I can imagine that he had no clue this encounter would end with his death.  What happened in those moments before the shooting, it is all a bit hazy...the one eyewitness account I did hear kept saying that it was dark and he can't be sure about this and that.  There are a lot of unanswered questions and loose strings. 

Now that Zimmerman has officially been charged (took way too long if you ask me)...perhaps we will start to get to the bottom of what actually happened.  Until then, I will just pray...pray for justice and healing.  Nothing will bring Trayvon back. So what justice looks like...I honestly don't know.  And I'm happy that I've finally gotten to the place that I can simply say "NO COMMENT....at this time".

bite of the day ~ Wisdom says gather, process....then speak....in EVERY situation.  Lord help me.



thirtiesgirl

Getting Back 2 Basics

So my life is in topsy-turvy, upside down, violent "sifting like wheat".....change.  And has been for over a year and a half now.  I have come to the place of emotional acceptance of my transition....my crossroads...understanding I am in a unique soul space.  A tender, fragile place.  Scalpel tip resting on the crest of the chest, ready to make that most delicate of incisions....get inside and remove the junk that's got death attached.  Understanding one wrong move, the patient may not survive.  I'm standing in the middle of a dense jungle....Indiana Jones-style with old school compass and all....trying to discern which way is right.  decisions.  Decisions. DECISIONS!

What kinda girl am I?  What kinda girl do I want to be?  Cause....

I AM NOT THE SAME.

Many times when difficult life transitions come, there's the urge to throw EVERYTHING away.  Be totally different...cause perhaps being how I was is what got me into this mess in the first place.  Yeah...Imma be the OPPOSITE.  And the world will know it! Nay.  Sigh.

After much praying and soul-searching and thinking and analyzing and self-dissecting...and praying some more, I've realized I need to get back to the basics.  I don't need to scrap everything that has made me me.  But I do need to be more older and wiser...and less young and dumber.  More trusting in JESUS and less trusting in self.  More reality and less fantasy (my imaginary worlds are off the chain!...in a good and bad way. Sigh.)  So I've slowly but surely been getting back to.....me.

1.  I'm having a series of love affairs...and it's with my awesome crazy and sometimes dysfunctional family.  My mother is my girl.  I enjoy her company.  She has been one of my best, if not THE, best friend in my life since I can remember.  It had always been a point of "pride" for me to be so close to my mother.  A woman who knows me...and also knows the boundaries.  Respects me as a girlnwoman, not all up in my business but is there when I need her.  Recently I realized my attitude had subtly shifted. "I don't want to be the Golden Girls!" became the thought.  And I don't.  And we won't.  But an unfounded fear had crept in.  From where??? Hm.  She is MY Girl and would be even if we weren't related. I will NO LONGER APOLOGIZE for it!  Especially to people with serious dysfunction with their own...what the hell am I concerned about what you think for!?!  That's done.  My Daddy...now he's MY Superman...proven that more in the last year and a half than in my whole life....besides when he saved me from a watery grave when I was little...but I digress.  I am a Daddy's Girl and I will NOT apologize for it!  BrothersSistersCousinsAuntsUnclesInLawsOutlaws....MY FAMILY.....I am swimming in their love and presence...I always have.  And until I got exposed to other worlds....I didn't know that this is abnormal to a number of folks.  Living life WITH your family in a healthy, non intrusive, non-controlling, proper prioritizing, putting differences aside and being there when it counts way...good bad and ugly.  This is actually an issue to some.  Go figure.  Well, love, support and (NEWS FLASH!) friendship SHOULD be the norm in families and I WILL NO LONGER APOLOGIZE THAT I HAVE JUST THAT!  I honor and need my family.  Period!

2. I'm rekindling an old flame.  I've been in love with....BOOKS ever since my mother literally brought a heavy duty trash bag of them home when I was about 8 or 9.  I read them all.  My summers were filled with trips to the library with my Daddy....at one point I thought I wanted to be a librarian I loved the place so much...plus I wanted to do the scan and beep thing all day. I started collecting books for my personal library years ago and my dream home will include a huge reading room....books to the ceiling...I'm talking rolling ladder status!  I had gotten away from my love....life and drama draining my energy and brain cells.  Well...baby I'm back...and I'm wearing out my library card too!  Call me a nerd if you want.  Me no care!  I love getting in bed with the likes of Common (One Day It'll All Make Sense), Tyrese (How To Get Out of Your Own Way) and Devon Franklin (Produced By Faith).  C'mon boys. lol

3.  Sweet freedom...I long for.  I've always felt a huge sense of responsibility to live a certain way and do what's "right".  Felt I needed to be an example, whether folks were paying attention or not.  So my personality and decisions reflected this.  However, I used to be a lot....freer.  Laughed more.  Played more.  Acted silly more.  Danced more.  Hoped more.  I was SURE of my future and felt a sense of control because after all, it was in my hands.  All I had to do was the right things based on my faith, my family and my values....and I was home free.  Instant AWESOME life.  WRONG! The more I lived and the more I experienced, the less free I became.  Less laughter...less play...less joy.  Pain, disappointment and survival replaced confidence, certainty and peace about the  future.  Bondage to fear....of more pain.  Well, I've decided I'm done with the heavier side of life.  I'm stepping out of the abyss and into the Son-Light.  After all, I am light...the giver and lover of life.  Time for me to get to know myself again.  Selah.

bite of the day ~ Somethings are meant to change.  Life will be better for it.  But somethings are from the core of YOU.  Hold on to them for dear life...and let no pain or negativity strip them away.

 

thirtiesgirl

mai's happy time smoothie

Ok...so I've been finding all kinds of ways to lift my spirits lately...prayer, time with friends and family, movies, music and all sorts of artistic expression....but there are those times I just want to....eat.  I mean really...it's a problem.  I love food...always have.  So, in order for me to NOT become two tons of fun with the emotional eating...I decided to buy me a blender (finally...) and start whipping some stuff up. 

So here's my "secret" happy time smoothie recipe...tastes soooo good and it's healthy too!  What more could you possibly ask?  Here goes...and um, don't say I ain't never gave you anything. :-)

Put the ingredients in the Blender in this order:
1. Juice of 1 lime
2. Bananas (I like to slice em and freeze em by the 2s...and then let them thaw slightly when I'm ready)
3. 3-4 tablespoons of plain greek yogurt (nonfat or 2%)
4. frozen pineapple
5. 1 tablespoon of raw honey
6. 3 ice cubes
7. A dash of organic cinnamon (if you want an extra kick of spice)

BLEND!

bite of the day ~ you must drink this lusciousness from a too cute WINE GLASS (no plastic or plain stuff)....and dance around to Heavy D, Kid N Play or Big Daddy Kane.  It is a part of the "Happy Time" experience.  Just do it and Enjoy!



thirtiesgirl

why did I think I was exempt?

Thursday.

I'd been home long enough to go through my normal ritual of removing as many layers as I can...as quickly as I can without freezing...(thank God my place is pretty cozy).  I like to be free and would honestly walk around in public in panties alone (no thongs...and burn the bra!)  if I could get away with it...anyway.  I digress.  So I'm comfy...and warm...thanking God for the awesome parking space that I rarely get on the corner right by my place....when all of a sudden, I hear  a car alarm going off.  Just out of curiosity (and because I'm a good neighbor), I decide to peek out and make sure everything was cool.  Sigh.  It was my ride!  Lights flashing and the lights of the car in front of me were flashing too...the BMW in front of me.  Sigh again!  I threw on my jeans and snow boots in record time.  Didn't think to grab my phone, pad nor pen.  Just frantic me and my keys.  Thank God the little white man with the too minty breath (liquor camouflage alert!) had enough integrity to stop.  Gratefully, it wasn't too bad.  Mainly scrapes on the back side.  I would still be able to make the short road trip to Bloomington the next day to celebrate my cousin's birthday, as planned.

Saturday.

After having great conversation food and drink with my family, we decide to hop into my twin (born same year same month and extremely close) cousin's car and go back to my birthday cousin's suite to chill.  A cell phone rings.  The younger one is on the other end.  He's listening and looking at me.  Uh oh. 

"Somebody just hit your car".

It was parked on a WIDE residential street in front of my family's home when some drunk idiot turned the corner, almost ran into a tree...swung around...hit the FRONT of my ride...ran up on the lawn across the street and almost into the house, which surely would have killed the young one standing in the window frozen in front of headlights...then drove across two more lawns...and then sped away.  Hit and Run. Sigh. I was numb with disbelief.

 "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!?!" 

My vehicle hit TWO times within 3 days??? Nothing like this has EVER happened to me before.  I held it together until we got back to the suite, then the waterworks began.  Why me?  What have I done??  I haven't done anything to deserve this!?!  Overwhelmed.  That's the word.  It wasn't just Thursday or Saturday.  It was the previous TWO weeks of pressure and torment, being forced to lift my fists and attempt to fight my way out of a lonely damp dark corner..fight against love.  It was the last year and a half of living a life that I never saw coming.  It was the having to make a Plan B while already in it. Since, until that point, Plan A was the only one in existence...for me.  Sunday morning, my best friend called.  I told her about the accidents.  She said she'd dreamed about me all night.  Distress signals must have been going out....

Journal Excerpt:

"...at the end of the day, I'm finally getting it through my head....IN THIS LIFE STUFF HAPPENS!  God is with me through  it all.  Everything cannot and will not be prevented and I may get some scrapes bumps and bruises along the way...but I will emerge with no "structural" damage, just like my ride.  And when I get out of God's shop, I'll look and BE just like new.  Selah."

bite of the day ~ Just because you're special...don't mean you're special.  Stuff will happen to you, just like everybody else.  Trust God and you will be stronger...you'll be tougher...prepared for the next punch life throws.

 

thirtiesgirl

Just Whitney.

I was in the shower washing my hair...a more detailed task these days with my increasingly longer coils and curls...listening to Pandora...Erykah Badu's station....listening to Erykah when my cell rang, interrupting the song.  I like to play a guessing game when I miss a call....guess who it was....who I wish it was.  Will the two match?

My mother and I had an impromptu girls' sleepover that night, so of course I heard her cell phone ring right after my missed call.  I heard muffled sounds and "What!?!"....more muffled sounds.  Is that disappointment I hear?  Surprise?  Instantly my heart beat quickened.  Instantly it did.  My family has gone through so much tragedy in the last decade plus, that I subconsciously brace myself for the blows these days.  Before my mind could analyze what the muffled sounds meant, my mother stuck her head in the bathroom and said "Whitney Houston died."

Silence.  Oh no.  Confession: Slightly relieved.  It wasn't my great aunt or sibling or cousin or Daddy or...any relative.

But Whitney.  Hadn't seen it coming...just like with Don Cornelius...definitely didn't see that coming.  But Whitney? 

Confession:  Sad but....not surprised.  The struggle was just as legendary as The Voice.

But she's not just a voice.  Not just "the voice of a generation".  Not just a gift.

She was beauty and spunk and grace and grit and elegance and "hood" wrapped in a flawless caramel shell with long narrow legs, perfect white teeth....complemented by a full lip, the top of which would always sweat and quiver when she was reaching the mountaintop of a song.

She was who most of my generation mimicked during our 6th grade graduations...marching in and belting out The Greatest Love of All.

She was the pretty woman with the big smile....and the broken soul.  She was who so many of us wanted to be for so long.

bite of the day ~ She said it best...."Yes, Jesus loves me....". See you on the other side Ms. Houston.  Your struggle is over. 

thirtiesgirl

colors

I dreamed a dream....in vivid color I dreamed. 

In royal Purples, soft Yellows, pulsating Reds and yummy Greens, I dreamed. 

 I waded and flipped and rolled around  in my hazy vibrant dream. 

I dreamed a dream of LOVE. 

The floating in the clouds-while feet firmly planted-sinking deep into the earth-kind.  The lash to lash, iris to iris kind.  Breath to breath.  In-Ti-Ma-Cy.  He breathed into me and I gave life back to him.  He reached without hands and touched the depths of me...genuinely.  I reached back and he opened up to that soft mushy place.  That secret "I'm too much of a man to show you" space.  And I explored.  I looked.  I smelled.  I touched that place....the mushy place, gently I touched.  And he didn't close up nor shut down.  Didn't snatch nor push away.  He stood bravely, open and trusting....knowing I would never bring pain.  And even if I did, it was worth the touch, the sound, the feel of our hearts beating in rhythm.  Together.  One.  And I trusted that beat.  In his love, I was FREE.  Safe and Free.

Then I woke up.

Woke up to crumbly grays ashy blacks dusty blues....

and even reds....the mean kind.

I sighed a deep sigh....an indescribable longing in the pit of my center.

Sigh. Sigh. Sigh.

Then I remembered my dream...my vivid colored DREAM.

And I smiled.


bite of the day ~ Don't let go of The Dream.  It will live...if you believe. 

 
thirtiesgirl