You’re boring AF
Your own damn self
I have to admit I’m sick of my own boring ass. It seems like after I gave birth to my last two children I may as well have grabbed a pair of granny draws, paid my Netflix subscription up for a year and started drinking table wine. I have completely lost my edge.
Now given the fact that I have never been as wild as I often secretly hoped to be, I am in no way as fun as I used to be. I remember many nights I would sit up with my husband and we’d drink, smoke, watch TV and just enjoy each others company knowing damn well when the children woke up early in the morning we’d both be lying there with one eye open waiting for the other to get up and tend to them. It wouldn’t take long before we’d yell for the oldest to fix cereal and go away. Boy those were the days…back when I could hang. Now by 10 p.m. I’m swearing at kids with itchy contact-filled eyes and not enough wine in my system. Boy do I miss the days where I could partake of the marijawana and act like I didn’t have a decent paying job to go to in the a.m.
I remember the hubby and I would fix hotwings and mixed drinks on a Friday night and when the children would fall asleep we’d be drunk and slow dancing to our favorites; Al Green -For the Good Times, Teddy P -Latest Greatest Inspiration, The O-jays – Cry Together and the list goes on and on. We would slow grind so much that many times we barely made it to our bedroom…sometimes we didn’t. BLADOW we’d get it own right there in the living room. Thank God the oldest two children weren’t the type to get up in the middle of the night roaming around the house. Back then I was hot to trot, boy I had that man going and I felt damn good about myself.
Then we decided to have more children…well he did, but that’s a whole nother story that I’ll save for another date and time. After we had our little babies I was so depressed and tired and tired and depressed that I kind of said fuck it. After working 8 hours a day then coming home to big family I didn’t want any damn hotwings that were accompanied with slow grinding. And had I wanted those things I would have had to sneak and have them because now we had two toddlers that loved mommy and daddy and had to have them in their sights at all times. Oh Joy! Yeah right!
Which brings me to 5 years later. Who would think that a PYT such as myself would be sneaking and creeping around in my own home to TRY to have sex with my own husband? Honestly many of our efforts only result in attempts because a little one knocks on the door requesting to see mommy or daddy or just as the nasty talk is getting good some child yells out that they have boo boo’d and needs someone to wipe them or better yet just as panties are dropping we hear a child scream because his sibling has fallen off of something and may need 911 called.
Is this really my life?
Ever wish you could un-meet a person?
In my case I wish I could un-meet, un-date, un-sleep with and un-have a child with my ex. Yes all of the above is impossible but because of the situation if I could go back in time I’d un-meet the hell out of that mitch.
I try to keep my ill feelings toward my son’s father to myself honestly because I never want to give my son the idea that I hate his dad. I don’t want him to think that the way I feel about his dad is the reason his dad abandoned him. Honestly I don’t hate his dad, I do dislike him and wish I could un-meet him but whats done is done and I definitely don’t hate him.
The other day my son out of nowhere asked me if I ever liked his dad. I said sure, what would make you ask that. He said well you’re not with him. I explained to him that there was a time that I did like his dad, but we just weren’t good together so we decided to not be in a relationship. As he talked to me about how he thinks I must love my husband and never really liked his dad it dawned on me that I never loved his dad, NOT everrrrrrr! It was one of those situations where you know you should step away but one of two things keep you in a bad situation, fear of being alone or creature comforts. I think in the situation between myself and his dad it was a combination of both. I had been single before and even though I enjoyed the freedom of the single life I really enjoyed the companionship of having a steady man around.
However we were day and night. I’m a Southern girl. I grew up in the inner city. I was a tomboy and I cuss like somebody’s old drunk uncle Willie. I’m the girl from around the way. I can sit at the table and play nice but I will also take you outside if your mouth gets too smart. I like good movies, simple conversation and even though I’m dressed up every day for work I’m still 88% hood most of the time. He on the other hand was flashy and from the Midwest…need I say more ***insert hard eyeroll*** He was one of those people who if you said the sky was falling his contrary ass would pull out his phone trying to research it to prove you wrong. He’d find proof somewhere and with his little smart mouth he’d explain to you why once again you were wrong. He loved West Coast music with a passion and despised the South.
The past couple weeks have really been a trial and a test for me. Things just haven’t gone as planned however from the stress I’ve been under came forth tonight’s 1500 plus words written on my manuscript. For many writers 1500 words is nothing but for someone like myself who is a champion procrastinator writing 1500 words in one stent deserves major kudos.
Tonight the characters in my book began talking in my head. I could hear them loud and clear spewing line after line of dialogue. I immediately sat down to write. I’m pleased with the end result and just that “push” from my characters made me believe in myself again.
Hello, my name is ChiChi and I’m addicted to buying journals.
Over the years I have purchased many, many journals. Some I purchased just because they were too cute to pass up, some were purchased because the quote on the front cover touched me in some special way and others I purchased because I just loved them. For many of them, at the time of purchase I had no plan for what I’d write in them, but I just had to have it.
Recently I was looking at all of my journals and deciding which one I would used for my bible scripture journaling. I got the idea from Pinterest and decided that it was something I needed to start ASAP. I looked through my journals and chose this one as the one I’d use for my scripture journaling.
I remember buying this journal and thinking, hmm now that’s the type of woman I’d like to be. The words strength, dignity and without fear grabbed my attention. I stared at the word future because honestly my future was one that I was quite unsure about. I bought this journal during one of the lowest points of my life. I guess I hoped I would go home, write away my pain, fears and hopelessness, but I didn’t. I wrote one depressive entry in it, closed it up and placed it on the bookshelf where it has remained for almost a year.
Around 3:00 a.m Monday morning instead of sleeping I was up worrying about a group of children that I’d seen on a photo of people needing to be rescued in Houston, TX due to Hurricane Harvey. I stared up at the ceiling and the picture of those children lying on the countertops because their home was filling with water flashed over and over in front of my eyes. I blinked back tears.
I said a prayer for them. Lord let them be rescued
I lie in bed trying to sleep, sleep did not come. I then decided that since I couldn’t sleep I’d just play around on the internet for a while until my eyes got tired, but instead of my eyes getting tired my heart got heavy. I saw numerous tweets on Twitter of people in Houston providing their names and addresses pleading to be rescued. Over and over they pleaded “Please send help.” My heart broke.
I don’t watch the news much so I was out of the loop on just how bad the aftermath of Hurricane Harvey was until late Sunday/early Monday. My heart hurts so bad for those people who were on rooftops waiting to be rescued. I cannot imagine what it feels like to have no other option for survival other than to seek refuge on the roof of my home.
I have read many comments of people saying that many of the residents of Houston chose not to evacuate and yes the situation is sad but they should have made better decisions. This infuriates me. Being that I come from a large family and now as a mother and wife we have what most would consider a large family my question is where should these people have gone? If so much of the city is under water and they would need to leave the city entirely, where exactly should they have gone? How many of them had a place to go? Secondly how many of us have the resources to just uproot their entire families and leave the city at a moments notice? And by resources I mean money and transportation. Many United States citizens are living check to check. So where would this abundance of money come from for families to make sure their vehicles are in good working order and can withstand a road trip? Where would all of this money come from that would be needed for hotel rooms and supplies? Not many people have friend and family that can put up their entire family for days and days on end. So the idea that so many people chose to stay to “weather the storm” just does not ring true to me.
While out grocery shopping and running errands today I stood in line beside a black guy, I’d say around 20ish in age. I wouldn’t say 26, but definitely over 21.
Well the guy and I were dressed exactly alike. I had to look down at my outfit a couple of times to confirm it but yep, we definitely had on basically the same outfit. After a few times of confirming that we were dressed alike I then began comparing the outfits. The reason I needed to compare them was because I knew damn well I didn’t shop in men’s clothing stores and I also knew that even though I wouldn’t consider myself a girly girl I definitely didn’t dress like a guy. So how did we end up with the same outfit on?
We both looked like Rihanna on a “chill day”
Now I’m not judging….BUT when did men….straight men start dressing like this? There was nothing about this guys demeanor that said he was gay. He didn’t wear the outfit in a a gay way, if that makes sense…
Sitting here in this lonely apartment, well not so lonely because the kids are here (I’m pretending they aren’t) I got to thinking about how close I am to 40. I mean literally in just a few years I will be 40 years old…that shit is scary.
Every time I think about reaching the milestone of the Big 4-0 I almost want to break down in tears because life was not supposed to kick my ass like this. By 40 I was supposed to be a famous authoress, hemmed up in the office of my mansion pecking against the keys of my laptop pushing out a book that one of the big publishing houses has given me a deadline on that I was about to miss. That mansion is somewhere in Georgia (not Atlanta) and I can look out of my bedroom window and see trees and a small courtyard that I had specifically designed when I had this house built from the ground.
But that’s not what happened. What had happened was….
Instead of having a plan and working that plan I had no plan so I winged it. Now with how things turned out I guess the wings I used were either damaged or refurbished because shit went bad for me real fast. Now I have no one to blame for it but myself however if you read my blog enough you will see that there are plenty of people I will credit for the effed up shit that has come my way over the past 15 years. I’ve got 9 fingers to point and you’d better bet each one is cocked and ready.