Present and Accounted For

When my father died, I watched every episode of "Sex and The City."

When I realized I had two children to take care of instead of the one I just given birth to - I watched every episode of "24" and "The Shield" I could get my hands on.

When it finally sank in that I had dispatched the Ex, dealt with a certifiable crazy-ass ex friend who basically dedicated herself to Internet stalking me by posting endless photos and rants about me on her blog(she didn't rate the effort to post about too much here) and had broken free (for the most part) from the crazy that is my family...

Well, damn, I needed a break.

Marshall: Oscar Winner for Best Actor in a Drama 2010

Where I've been. Details soon...

Been a while...

Yep. This is me right now. Totally freakin' exhausted!

More details to come...soon.

Happy Father's Day

My Favorite New Song

The guy singing with Willie Nelson is amazing. He won the Norwegian version of American Idol in 2003. Simon Cowell said he would be hard to market because he looks like a Hobbit, but has a great voice.

Enjoy

The X Chronicles: Facebook Fail

Some of you may recall this post. I never really followed up on that. Long story short, the Ex's manager pulled several moves that to this day rank in the Evil Hall of Shame. This man called me at work numerous times, sent texts, hounded a friend of mine, found out her work number and called her - all to convince me child support would only make the Ex miserable.

I finally responded to him and called him a Plantation Negro. He promptly emailed me warning me that I would regret that response. He then proceeded to (same day) file a complaint stating that I stalked him, came to my office to complain to my boss that I harassed him and emailed me a nasty missive. The end result of all of that dumbfuckery: I'm still employed, the case was dismissed because he never showed up for court. The magistrate was pissed at the waste of time when I showed him the print outs of the emails, saved texts, and put the voice mails on speaker phone.

That story is relevant here because just when I was beginning to trust people again along comes something to remind me - no, I should not. Last week I received a series of disturbing messages on Facebook regarding Mr. X. Came off as jealous ex-girlfriend. I let Mr. X know - his reaction? Cold as fucking ice. I had deleted him as a friend on FB because it was going nowhere fast, but I still liked him and wanted to be friends offline. Something about seeing the dude you're crushing on interact with other women...Meh. I call that rational, he calls it childish. So he accused me of masterminding this. Yes, extraordinary bitchassness was displayed. He never could quite come up with a rational reason as to why this would be the case. Instead, he just left me floundering feeling like shit with some crazy woman he pissed off ranting about other women I have only cursory knowledge of.

If you've ever had anyone try to access your personal info - you know what a violation that is. This woman also threatened to "out my ass." If you are a close personal friend - you may find that amusing. Again, where was Mr. X in all of this? Silent. No apology. I get it - I dodged a bullet. He's an ass, but did I really need that shit right now? No. I did not.

So, here's to the two of you Mr. & Mrs. X: Happy Outings.

Sometimes You Have to Go There.

More on this later...

RIP Lena Horne

Extreme Randomness

So I'm over on Facebook and I happen across a reference to lace fronts. So I do a bit of googling because, although I know these are wigs, I've never actually seen one...or had I?

Check out this slice of WTF from www.hairconspiracyextensions.com:

As remarkable as the technology is, these wigs are not without their imperfections. The attachment can be visible to the eye and can come unattached due to sweat or highly expressive facial movements. Just raising one's eyebrows can cause the "line of demarcation" to show because the glue can be stiff and does not move with the skin on ones forehead.




h/t Bougie Applebum

The X Chronicles: RIP Superman

I cannot swim. One summer, my uncle took us to the local pool in Atlanta and asked one of the lifeguards if he could teach me to swim. Normally, I would have flailed around like a fish on a hook, but the man swimming toward me was a superhero. He was Christopher Reeve's doppelganger, and to my seven-year old self he WAS Superman.
So there I was, confident in his abilities and totally trusting him to teach me to swim.


We began with learning to float. He told me to stretch out, relax and put my head back in the water and promised not to let me drown. I sank like a rock.

There are no superhero's.

The X Chronicles

People who don't know me in real life (whatever that is) have emailed me over the course of the past year asking if there is a meaning behind my title. Does it refer to actual people? Who are they? And the funniest one - why the hell have I been married twice? This has inspired me to do a series of posts on relationships. First, however, I will take the time to answer those questions...


I have never been married. The title refers to two very significant others who profoundly (for better and worse) impacted my life. If you are a regular reader, then you know that one Ex refers to the father of my child. As much as I want to drown him in a bucket of fermented urine at times - without him, I would not have my daughter. If ever there was a vetting process - he went through it. He was friends with my best friend. Most of my circle knew him and he was considered a sweet gentle soul. The problem is that no one ever required him to be an adult. The people surrounding him required that he stand on stage and play his sax, and that he entertain them. They did not require him to be a father or husband. To this day, his actions as a significant other and father have been a source of shock and sadness for those who know us.

One of the saddest days of my life was almost two years ago when I saw him at our daughter's daycare. He reached out to me with tears streaming down his face, and begged me to give him his family back. I almost took his hand, when the image of my two year old daughter crying and begging him to leave me alone flashed. Walking away was not hard. I have no regrets, other than not leaving sooner.

The other, I have never discussed here. He was fifteen years my senior, white, my best friend and my worst enemy. This week I found myself thinking of him at the most unexpected times. I miss him. I learned that sometimes love is not enough, that age does not always equal maturity and that you can be friends with an Ex.

Clearly, I am still learning. Enjoy.

Arizona. Damn.

Is there really anything left to write?

Introducing...Mr. X

Mr. X is long, tall, handsome and has a voice that is like warm apple cider on an Autumn afternoon. Now, that you've rolled your eyes and struggled to keep from tossing some cookies...


Could he be a unicorn? Probably not. More like...

Angel Face...

Alas, this week has produced some decidedly less than angelic behavior.



And I will still love my little Pookster after she gets out of time out - in about fifteen years.

Are you there God? It's me, KST.

For the past two months, my beautiful little girl has been singing this cute little ditty: Up There Kiddie Bow. Every so often she would ask me to sing with her. Having no clue what she was talking about, I would ask her to sing it to me first. This was always met with exasperation over me claiming not to know this song and her insisting that I did. She would then proceed to bop around and sing the aforementioned title over and over. A couple of weeks ago as we're beginning our morning commute a song comes on and I reach for the dial. The four year old FREAKS out, "Noooo Mommy that's my Sawooong." Meanwhile, color me stunned as I explain to her this is not an appropriate song for her.

She gets this blank look on her face and says,"But Mommy it's Up There Kiddie Bow."

Whoa.

RIP David Mills aka The Undercover Black Man

Maybe I put off posting about this because it would make it seem more real or I just didn't want to think about it. Whatever the reason...I'm lifting the entire article regarding UBM's passing published by one of my other favorite writers.

blackink12 on March 31st, 2010

If you enjoyed The Wire, underground jazz and funk musicians (are there any other kind?), or mocking journalists who badly misidentify black celebrities, then you lost a friend and cohort in David Mills.

Mills, a one-time Washington Post music critic who went on to an Emmy-winning career as a TV writer and producer, died Tuesday after suffering a brain aneurysm. He was 48.

The terrible irony of it is that Mills passed away only two weeks before the debut of the upcoming HBO drama Treme, a series set in a historic black section of New Orleans following Hurricane Katrina.

I have no doubt it will be fantastic.

I have no doubt about this because that’s pretty much how things worked when Mills was involved.

It’s tough to narrow down his accomplishments into a single paragraph. But among the highlights are: producing memorable interviews with a pair of now-forgotten rap stars, one from Sister Souljah that Bill Clinton later used for political opportunism in the 1992 presidential campaign and another from Public Enemy’s Professor Griff that resulted in his ouster from the group; writing for a murderer’s row of big-time TV shows including Homicide, NYPD Blue and The Corner, which many consider the precursor to The Wire; and creating an unusually eclectic and thoughtful blog, Undercover Black Man.

I came to know of Mills through UBM (actually, it was the First Lady who put me on to the blog. Yep, I know how to pick’em). At that point, to me, he was just a cool, smart guy from Cali who knew a lot about the music and television industries.

He didn’t let on that he was a big deal, you know?

And when I decided to make my own tepid effort at creating and running a blog, he was one of the first to give me an encouraging word and some linkage.

He didn’t have to do it. But he did, and I’m truly grateful. If he didn’t, I probably wouldn’t be writing over here (as infrequent as that may be in recent months) or boast a new cadre of friends who are some of the coolest colored folks you’ve ever wanted to meet.

Anyway, since there’s a sort of lofty-style of writing that is beyond my grasp, let me refer you to better tributes here, here and here.

Also, in the final post over at his spot, he included a 14-minute preview of “Treme” that I feel obliged to share here.



RIP, Mills. I’ll be watching and writing.

P.S. If you have to die, you might as well do it at Café du Monde. We should all be so lucky.




f/t blackink12 via PostB

One of these is not like the other...or?

Untitled

I believe this will be the last post regarding my family. I won’t go into a lot of detail here, but there are some moments in this life when you stand at a crossroads and have to make a decision. I have chosen to walk away from, and not return to my hometown for the foreseeable future. Arrangements have been made for my mom to spend some weekends with me. All other options have been exhausted, and she is of sound enough mind now to legally block any action I may want to take. What matters is that she knows that I love her and will be there for her.

Monday a family member took things to a level that there is no coming back from. I will eventually forgive them, but I sever ties knowing that I deserve to be treated with basic human decency. When I left my ex, I vowed that I would never stay in a situation where I feared for my or someone else’s physical safety. Some things are unacceptable, unexplainable and so painful that you have no choice but to stop trying to make sense of it. I no longer care why they have made the decisions they have made, but they have to live with the consequences.

Crazy indeed.

They did it. They really did it. Despite what the entire staff of the nursing facility advised, my family has over ruled my decision to apply for a waiver for my mom to go to assisted living. They want to wait and see (cos, clearly five years and about bi-monthly trips to the hospital is not enough information to make a decision). I cannot comprehend this or the plan they have come up with. I spent a half an hour this morning just staring at the M on the McDonald’s sign thinking what the hell just happened when I got off the phone with a family member. Let me be clear: When family can provide for a loved one they should. When the loved one needs 24/7 monitoring of serious heart condition, diabetes, and the onset of dementia and one family member lives on another continent, one family member lives an hour away and is a single mom, and the others begrudgingly help out and act like total shit heads – that’s a whole nother ball of cheese. I will see my mom weekly as planned bring her home a lot, but I can only pray to God that my mom is going to be okay. They just shot the best chance there was to have ALL of her needs met to hell.

Really?

About ten years ago, I was on a transatlantic flight watching the updated version of The Parent Trap. I remember thinking that this little redhead was going to be a star. Flash forward to today when the news that this same child is suing over this commercial because the tipsy toddler shares her name. The commercial is hilarious. Lindsay Lohan's mother is expressing her indignation over the use of her daughter's name in this commercial because (of course) everyone knows they are making fun of her child. What I know is this is a mother who failed her daughter years ago.

Status

Although the creator of this video could have done a spell check, this song pretty much sums up how I'm feeling these days. I'm learning to be okay with the path that I am taking even if it angers, disappoints, or saddens others. People often mistake loving themselves as being selfish. As a kid, I would hide under the bed or lock myself in the bathroom with the lights off and cry if someone did or said something hurtful. I would tell myself that when I woke up it would be light outside and everything would be okay.

One of the hardest thing that people who have been damaged by others have to learn is how to accept that they will most likely never get a sincere apology from or have their feelings validated by their abusers. People don't want to be told they fucked up, so they'll tell you to: move on, don't live in the past, get over it, stop being a victim etc. All valid points - when they're not being made by the person/people who created the trauma you need to get over. The trick is to feel what you need to feel, confront them if necessary, and be OK with the fact the some people will not change. Tricky indeed.

Enjoy the video.

If only...

He would not be pissed at me and pay attention to his child. She turned four this week and he has not called or paid her a visit. His deadbeatiness is solely a fuck you to me for leaving him, so please do not drop stupid comments on my blog about how he was only in it for the sex and left... You know the usual shit that black women empowerment bloggers write when they just know how a woman came to be a single mom.

Anywho, Mr. Saxboy: Someday when you need a glass of water, your Depends changed and our child helps you, it's because she had a great mom, not because you were there for her.

Civil Rights Gone Wrong Sunday

Clearly I missed Black History Month. So to honor my lateness, I'm going to do something that is a little off. As someone who holds a degree in our esteemed history, I think it is high time we spotlight those who are effing it up.




Love the comments that appear below this video on YouTube: We've come so far.


Whether it was the case of Eleanor Bumpers, Yusef Hawkins, Howard Beach,the Central Park jogger or Wilfred Phillips - New York City in the 80's and 90's was not a model for racial harmony. The accuser (Tawana Brawley) and the accused (one of whom was Assistant DA, Steven Pagones)became a pawns in Rev Al's game. It has never been proven beyond all doubt that she made up her story, but all evidence points to her fabricating the story. Reports were that her home environment was abusive (her Step-father spent seven years for murdering his first wife) which is why Brawley may have gone to such lengths to avoid punishment. And who was right there to exploit the situation?

Where's Justin when you need him?

Haven’t blogged in a while because it would not have been pretty. Mom had bad episode and was hospitalized and is now in a nursing home. Guess what? She’s as happy as a little clam now that she is feeling better. For the first time in a long time she is active, social and receiving round the clock care. So what's the problem? The usual: the rest of the fam and the process to assisted living that everyone in the world recommended a few years ago. The strong recommendation is that she not go home at all due to the need for 24/7 monitoring.


Equally frustrating is being told what a shitty daughter I am by a family members. I’m so shitty I could write a laundry list of things I have done and arranged for my mom that would make most STNA’s cry, the time taken off, wages lost, tears, anger, things my child has missed out on, but why? To defend myself? I’ve done that and it is NEVER enough. The hardest part about all of this has been having to work through issues and deal with people that I would rather not have in my life. People that think it's just fine if the children are molested (yes, I'm writing this) and we overlook it. People who are emotionally and mentally abusive as hell then if you dare to speak out - you're the one with the problem. You know the drill: Family first, respect your elders, family, family effing family.

My ma is not the problem - it's her rotten to the roots family members who have informed me that I am to come home every weekend (it's about an hour away)to relieve them of their duties if my mom comes home. I already go home anyway, but Fri-Mon morning with these people? No. I've made peace with my relationship with my mom. I love her, but she needs to be where I live. Until then I will go home weekly, but not the way they want it. I miss my Dad. He couldn't stand my mom's family either. And my child cannot be infected with their insanity. And guess what? My mom wants to be independent and does NOT want them hovering over her all damn time. Why? Cause as they treat her like she's a burden they put up with because they love her. They treat her like she's an errant child and talk down to her...

This site has become something it was not meant to be - whatever. Consider it my way of not ending up on Dateline for tying up, anally tasering some folks, and torturing them by forcing them to listen to Justin Beiber music on an endless loop.

Happy

Believe it or not...

This is the thing that kept me sane today. As soon as I walked into work today and checked my messages, I got splattered with a fist full of shit from my fam. I returned a call from my Aunt who loves to spread joy, and then checked my email – more joy. Long story condensed into a few sentences: My mom’s health problems continue. Everyone wants to do everything but the obvious because would take away the satisfaction that they get from being miserable. I have, after being treated like the red-headed adopted step-child for years by the majority of my fam, decided to go full-throttle into self-preservation mode. It’s them or me. I chose me because I can. Because I chose to bring someone else into this world who doesn’t deserve to ever taste the shit sandwich they’ve been serving up for the past 36 years. God rest my father’s soul, but even he didn’t stand up for me as he should have.

After months of self-doubt, loathing, hand-wringing, guilt-trippin’ from myself and others - I stopped. I made my position clear, moved back to Columbus to pick up the pieces of my formerly shattered existence and here I am. I still go home, still shop, clean up the house, and take my mom to Dr.’s appointments. What I don’t do is engage in the utter insanity that her family wants me to. Guess what? They don’t like it. So far, I’ve managed to hold back what I really want to say, and cut straight through the BS to get my mother’s immediate needs met.

The ex is still a limp dick (yes, I wrote that) who is only concerned with his own needs. He tries only when completely forced by his friends and family. His most recent statement to me regarding child-support was, “I’ll do what I can.” Thanks you miserable petrified turd. I don’t know about you guys, but bill collectors always respond favorably to me when I tell them “I’ll do what I can.” The truth is, if he would do ¾ of what he is legally required to do, I would be in a position to actually pay for all monthly expenses and save for our daughter's future.

So, today I left my desk several times and went to the bathroom to fight off a full-blown panic/anxiety attack. I made some jokes, ate some carbs and I’m somewhat ok – thanks to googling Knuffle Bunny. Knuffle Bunny happens to me my daughter’s favorite video right now. Watching her talk back to the screen and laugh always makes me smile.

Today, I needed to smile.

All together now: STFU!

Announcement

It’s been a while eh? I’m back and ready to blog full-time, but there is going to be a change. Based on traffic over here and who has access to this particular site, I’ve decided to create another blog. Yes, you read that correctly: Two blogs!!!! And no, smartasses, I will not neglect them. Why two blogs? Those of you who receive the invite will figure it out pretty quickly. The rest – kick rocks. Heehee, just kidding… I love you all, but I’m in no mood to censor myself. See some of you on the other side!