Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Don't Wear Your Welcome Out
I have mixed feelings about people having their single friends and relatives around all the time when they are in a relationship or married. I mean, if a person is a cheater they are gonna cheat but I don’t want to give them opportunity to do it right under my nose. This sounds kind of crazy and paranoid but let me explain.
This guy I know told me that he and his live-in girlfriend hardly ever have time for just them or just them and the kids. His girl always had her single sisters, cousins or girlfriends over to the house or Ty and she would go over one of the single lady’s houses. He said that at any given time, one of the ladies would bend over in front of him or make a big production of lifting up their blouses when they pull their pants up. One actually said, “He better not sit by me cause I might have to take him from you.” He finds it flattering in a way, but the subtle and outright advances also make Ty uncomfortable. He feels his girl brings him around her family & friends to rub the fact that she has a man in their faces. From what he’s told me about her, I’m sure he’s right. I kind of laughed to myself thinking of him as a trophy boyfriend. I told him if he didn’t want to be around the ladies all the time that he should tell his girl. If he didn’t have the guts to tell her, I told him to just grin and bear it, making sure he kept his hands and other body parts to himself.
I’m a hugger, and this one guy that I lived with a while ago used to bring his friends over and I would hug them when they came in and when they left. I mean I hug folks at work all the time so it wasn’t because I wanted to do them, that’s just how I greet people that I’m cool with. One day my boyfriend told me to stop hugging his friends because they might want to screw me. I looked at him like he was crazy because I didn’t know they thought of me in that way. To keep down confusion, I just said hello when they came in and went into my bedroom until they left. Of course then he said they thought I was acting anti-social so they started meeting at his brother’s place. *Shaking my head*
When I was in my late teens and early twenties, I had friends that were married. They were ladies from my church that I used to like to be around because they told me stories about their lives before they became saved, sanctified and filled with the Holy Ghost. Some of those chicks were really something else, Playboy bunnies and everything. At least that’s what they told me. Anyway, I would hang around them most of the day, but when their husbands came home I would leave. I mean I wouldn’t just rudely jump up when they guys walked into the house. I would have maybe a five or ten minute conversation with them and then I would make my exit. At that age, I had sense enough to know that hey, this guy has been gone all day and he probably missed his wife. He may have wanted to spend some time alone with her or his wife may have wanted some “special” time with him that couldn’t wait until bed time.
I’ve known a number of friends and relatives that have slept with their friends’ mates and it caused and still causes nothing but confusion. I mean, if you’re having a dinner party or some other type of get together, it’s cool to have people over to the house, whether single or married. I just don’t think that folks should just be camping out at your place like it’s a bachelor’s or bachelorette’s pad when you have a significant other.
This is just my opinion, I could be wrong. What’s your viewpoint?
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Once Was Blind ~ Part 1
A year ago I was trying to adjust to Darnell being on the town instead of living in the prison he was in when I met him. You know how you look back and try to focus on what was good about a relationship? Well, I’m sorry to have to admit, I felt better when he was locked up than I did during the three months we lived together. The harder I tried to overlook the things he did, the more my patience wore thin.
My name is Yolanda Reynolds. I thought that I would be married by the time I turned thirty, but Darnell Oliver not only wanted to be my everything, but everything to every woman he met who had a little change in her pocket and who was easily persuaded. Persuaded to do what? Well, just about anything under the sun.
He wanted his women doing everything, from stealing and selling clothes and jewelry to being a part of the oldest profession. Yeah, you know what I mean, prostitution. My former fiancĂ© was a pimp and proud of it. I admit that I tried things his way for a while, but I guess I didn’t have much street value, so he didn’t try to make me quit my day job to pursue full fledge tricking. I thanked my Heavenly Father for making me fat, and for giving me the strength to leave him before Darnell had starved me to death and forced me to be a full-time whore, whether I liked it or not.
Darnell’s mother, Darlene, and I worked together. She and I had been pretty good friends when she introduced me to her son. The first time I talked to him on the phone, Darlene and Darnell had called me on 3-way. Darnell and I exchanged addresses and promised to write each other at least once every couple of weeks.
His first letter was accompanied by a package the size of a toothpaste box. I, being the type of person who loved receiving gifts, unwrapped the light blue package. When I opened what was indeed a toothpaste box, I found a dozen fake miniature roses of assorted colors. Then I opened the letter which said that the roses were better than real ones because they would last forever. I thought that was sweet gesture. As I held the letter, it dawned on me: I had agreed to date a convicted felon on his seventh year of a ten year bid.
After about two weeks of talking on the phone and exchanging letters, I was ready to meet Darnell face to face. I knew who Darnell was soon as he walked into the visitation room. I recognized him from the pictures of him around Darlene’s house. The guy who reached to hug his mother was a lot thinner than I expected. I had figured all guys gained weight when they went to the pen from lifting weights all day. He had a big gold-tooth smile on his face when he looked at me. As Darnell wrapped his small, but muscular, arms around me, I resisted the urge to touch his shoulder length jheri curl. At that point, I hadn’t known what he had done to get himself locked up, but when I looked at the one inch, perfectly manicured nails and snakeskin cowboy boots, pimping came to mind.
During the first two years of our relationship, I visited Darnell every week, twice a week during the holidays. If my car needed servicing and I couldn’t go see him, he told his mother or brother to bring me.
To make up for the fact that he couldn’t see me on an everyday basis, he was the first man to remember my birthday every year. I sent him money and accepted his calls three times a day. He had friends that would give me money for the phone bill when I needed help. He sent me cards and little notes every Valentine’s and Christmas. He even sent me a mother’s day card and signed it, “My children’s mother to be.” I got to know his entire family including three of his children and their mother. They all made me feel like part of the family. No matter how often my friends looked at me and told me that I should have known better than to get mixed up with a convict, I didn’t listen. I didn’t even tell my dad that Darnell was locked up, because he would have been the very worst critic of all; not just because I was his daughter and he wanted the best for me, but because he had done a decade in prison himself. He knew that everybody didn’t learn from their mistakes.
There were a few times when I said to myself, “This is stupid,” and I wouldn’t go see Darnell or put money on his book. When he would call, I would instruct my roommate, Lolita, to tell him I wasn’t there. I sometimes went out with other guys to try to forget about Darnell, but then he would call on one of his friends 3-way and tell me how much he missed me and that he would be there when I got through running around with all those “nothing –ass niggahs”.
During one of those breakups, Darnell met Roshelle Price through one of the other inmates. Roshelle was ten years older than Darnell, which made her fifteen years older than I. She made her money as a hooker and a clothes booster. Why couldn’t I have left him alone then? Because she ended up going to a federal prison and I didn’t considered her empty promises as a threat to the plans Darnell and I had made together. I didn’t take me long to realize how persistent she was.
After my roommate moved out and I was struggling to pay bills on my own, Darnell convinced me to move in with his mother and we would get our own place when he got out.
Darnell was out a whole week before I knew it, and the $900 he asked me to send to him, before his release had already been blown. His second night home, he screwed some girl in my bed while I was at work. I knew this because I saw an open condom package under my pillow. I should have packed my bags then, but I just told him when we moved out of his mom’s house, that I wanted my own room. We stayed with Darlene a month before we found a house.
My name is Yolanda Reynolds. I thought that I would be married by the time I turned thirty, but Darnell Oliver not only wanted to be my everything, but everything to every woman he met who had a little change in her pocket and who was easily persuaded. Persuaded to do what? Well, just about anything under the sun.
He wanted his women doing everything, from stealing and selling clothes and jewelry to being a part of the oldest profession. Yeah, you know what I mean, prostitution. My former fiancĂ© was a pimp and proud of it. I admit that I tried things his way for a while, but I guess I didn’t have much street value, so he didn’t try to make me quit my day job to pursue full fledge tricking. I thanked my Heavenly Father for making me fat, and for giving me the strength to leave him before Darnell had starved me to death and forced me to be a full-time whore, whether I liked it or not.
Darnell’s mother, Darlene, and I worked together. She and I had been pretty good friends when she introduced me to her son. The first time I talked to him on the phone, Darlene and Darnell had called me on 3-way. Darnell and I exchanged addresses and promised to write each other at least once every couple of weeks.
His first letter was accompanied by a package the size of a toothpaste box. I, being the type of person who loved receiving gifts, unwrapped the light blue package. When I opened what was indeed a toothpaste box, I found a dozen fake miniature roses of assorted colors. Then I opened the letter which said that the roses were better than real ones because they would last forever. I thought that was sweet gesture. As I held the letter, it dawned on me: I had agreed to date a convicted felon on his seventh year of a ten year bid.
After about two weeks of talking on the phone and exchanging letters, I was ready to meet Darnell face to face. I knew who Darnell was soon as he walked into the visitation room. I recognized him from the pictures of him around Darlene’s house. The guy who reached to hug his mother was a lot thinner than I expected. I had figured all guys gained weight when they went to the pen from lifting weights all day. He had a big gold-tooth smile on his face when he looked at me. As Darnell wrapped his small, but muscular, arms around me, I resisted the urge to touch his shoulder length jheri curl. At that point, I hadn’t known what he had done to get himself locked up, but when I looked at the one inch, perfectly manicured nails and snakeskin cowboy boots, pimping came to mind.
During the first two years of our relationship, I visited Darnell every week, twice a week during the holidays. If my car needed servicing and I couldn’t go see him, he told his mother or brother to bring me.
To make up for the fact that he couldn’t see me on an everyday basis, he was the first man to remember my birthday every year. I sent him money and accepted his calls three times a day. He had friends that would give me money for the phone bill when I needed help. He sent me cards and little notes every Valentine’s and Christmas. He even sent me a mother’s day card and signed it, “My children’s mother to be.” I got to know his entire family including three of his children and their mother. They all made me feel like part of the family. No matter how often my friends looked at me and told me that I should have known better than to get mixed up with a convict, I didn’t listen. I didn’t even tell my dad that Darnell was locked up, because he would have been the very worst critic of all; not just because I was his daughter and he wanted the best for me, but because he had done a decade in prison himself. He knew that everybody didn’t learn from their mistakes.
There were a few times when I said to myself, “This is stupid,” and I wouldn’t go see Darnell or put money on his book. When he would call, I would instruct my roommate, Lolita, to tell him I wasn’t there. I sometimes went out with other guys to try to forget about Darnell, but then he would call on one of his friends 3-way and tell me how much he missed me and that he would be there when I got through running around with all those “nothing –ass niggahs”.
During one of those breakups, Darnell met Roshelle Price through one of the other inmates. Roshelle was ten years older than Darnell, which made her fifteen years older than I. She made her money as a hooker and a clothes booster. Why couldn’t I have left him alone then? Because she ended up going to a federal prison and I didn’t considered her empty promises as a threat to the plans Darnell and I had made together. I didn’t take me long to realize how persistent she was.
After my roommate moved out and I was struggling to pay bills on my own, Darnell convinced me to move in with his mother and we would get our own place when he got out.
Darnell was out a whole week before I knew it, and the $900 he asked me to send to him, before his release had already been blown. His second night home, he screwed some girl in my bed while I was at work. I knew this because I saw an open condom package under my pillow. I should have packed my bags then, but I just told him when we moved out of his mom’s house, that I wanted my own room. We stayed with Darlene a month before we found a house.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Government Shutdown
The shutdown could also affect the issuing of refund checks (I'm glad I filed in February).
If we are shut down for a couple days to a couple of weeks, we may or may not get paid once the budget is passed. That’s what’s bothering me. I appreciate my good government job which is why I’ve been there for 14 years. As crazy as things get around there, I would love to have a few days off but being off without pay is not something I look forward to.
I was 19 years old and had no idea I’d be working for the government back in 1995 and 1996, the last time the government shut down. The politicians say that was the reason why former President Clinton was elected to a second term. I don’t know how that had anything to do with the cost of tea in China but instead of the senators fighting over whether the shutdown will benefit the Democrats or the Republicans they need to come to my service center and talk with the so-called non-essential people who don’t make hundreds of thousands of dollars a year. Then they would see that what’s important is the fact that we could miss one or more pay checks. Depending on a person’s financial situation, that could cause a major problem when it comes to paying the bills for however long we are off.
The National Treasury Employees Union (NTEU) reps passed out fliers at work giving us information on how to send our congressional representatives a message: “Just say ‘NO’ to a government shutdown and severe budget cuts.” I’m not sure if this will have any effect on Congress’s or President Obama’s decision, but I would like to think that it would.
When we didn’t get our yearly raise and were told that we probably wouldn’t get one for another two or three years, I just shrugged and said, “Oh well”. I couldn’t miss any money that I never had. But I go to work every working day other than three vacation weeks out of the year, so I expect to get my regular paycheck.
When the Democrats and the Republicans finish playing this game of chicken, we’ll see if the government will be shut down Friday evening.
If I get furloughed, can y'all let a sister hold something? LOL just kidding, I'm good.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
An Understanding
“Where the hell is Phillip’s medicine? It wasn’t in his bag,” Jarvis yelled into the phone.
I was rocking the baby, trying to soothe him, but I knew that his earache was getting worse.
“This is the second time that you’ve forgotten it. Do I have to come to your house and pack his bag my damn self from now on?”
That’s what you get for having a baby by a young, dumb, white girl, I wanted to say but I didn’t. I was his wife and wives were supposed to be supportive, no matter nuts their husbands were. The fact that she was white really wasn’t a big deal to me because dumb came in all colors.
“Now when I sue you for full custody you’re gonna say that I’m being low down. Whatever. Gennifer, just drop his ear medicine off at mom’s house and I’ll go get it.”
I decided to take Phillip into the kitchen to find him a snack to get his mind off of his pain. Before we reached the doorway, Jarvis screamed, “I bet’ not give you my address, you think I want you to bring your drama to my doorstep?”
I sure the hell didn’t. I almost got locked up fooling around with that broad. I told her I was there for him before she got there and that I’ll be there when she was gone, so she got hot. Hell, it was the truth. Jarvis and I had known each other since ninth grade. We weren’t high school sweethearts or anything but we were good friends. If we had not lost contact a little after graduation, she would have never gotten into the picture.
When he first told me about Gennifer, I figured they would get married but she turned out to be too crazy for him to handle, so he had to cut her loose. Unfortunately, she was pregnant when he’d called it quits. I told him to try to make it work with her but he didn’t want to, saying that he should have been with me in the first place. So there I was, Mrs. Jarvis Anderson, aka Boo Boo the Fool, trying to make the best of a very awkward situation.
“Sonia, come ride with me,” Jarvis said walking into the kitchen where I stood. “I might kill that girl if I go alone.”
“Okay. I wish you wouldn’t let her upset you so much,” I said handing the baby to him. I went to the living room closet to get our jackets. I put on mine and took Phillip from Jarvis, giving him his jacket as well. Jarvis watched me as I got Phillip ready.
“I think you take better care of my son than his mama,” he said as we got into the car.
“I love this handsome little guy. I mean he looks just like you, except he’s more light skinned, has nicer hair and prettier eyes.”
“Are you trying to put the moves on my boy?” I just giggled and hugged Phillip to me. I was glad Jarvis was back to his old self again. He and I hardly ever argued, so it was unusual for me to see his bottom lip poked out.
It was too bad that our good moods didn’t last long. Gennifer’s car was still in Mrs. Phyllis’s driveway when we pulled in front of the house. It looked as if Gennifer was getting ready to back out, but I’m sure she made it her business to be there when Jarvis got there on purpose, hoping to get a few moments with him, without me around. Oops, her bad.
Jarvis blew the horn to get her attention before he got out the car. As he walked over to her car, I could tell that old girl was getting ready to chew Jarvis out. I hoped he would keep his composure.
“What do you want? And why doesn’t your wife have my baby in the child seat? Is she trying to kill him or what?” she yelled loud enough for me to have heard her in our backyard six blocks away.
When Jarvis looked back to see if I heard her, he saw me getting out of the passenger seat, so I could put Phillip in the back. As soon as I sat him down, he began to whine. “He needs his medicine,” I yelled to them.
“Bring me my baby, he just misses his mommy,” Gennifer said impatiently.
I picked Phillip up and again and walked over to Gennifer as she got out of her car. When I put the baby in her arms, he began to cry louder. By the time Mrs. Phyllis had let me in the house, the baby was on the verge of bursting a blood vessel and his face was almost as red as a tomato.
“What’s wrong with that child? He looks like he’s fighting for his life. Look how he’s clawing at that gal’s face.” I picked up the medicine bottle from the coffee table and went to stand behind Mrs. Phyllis as she stood at the door looking out. We both giggled when Gennifer thrust Phillip into Jarvis’s arms.
“What have you been doing to him?” she yelled nearly in tears herself.
“We’ve been taking care of him and loving him, the way you should be doing.”
Phillip calmed down and looked over his little shoulder at his mother. His small hand went up to his earlobe and began twisting and turning it. I took that as my cue to return outside and rescue both of my men from that woman, before things got any worse.
“Can you have kids?” Gennifer burst out, as I approached them.
“Why do you ask?” I responded, as I put the drops in the baby’s ears.
“I was just wondering if you were going to have any children of your own or if you were just going steal my son away from me.”
I would be a much better mother than you, I wanted to say, but one look at the expression on Jarvis’s face said not to even go there. I took Phillip to the car and fastened him in the car seat. I handed him his sippy cup from his bag. He looked out of the window and watched his parents as he drank his juice. It was a good thing he wasn’t old enough to feel embarrassed by his mother. I envied his innocence.
It was Phillip’s third birthday. Mrs. Phyllis and I were out in her backyard putting balloons and streamers on the wooden privacy fence. We were waiting for Gennifer to bring Phillip over so we would have him ready before his little daycare friends arrived. She was late, as usual. Jarvis had not made it either, but he had called to say he would have to work a little later.
The party was well underway, when I received a phone call that I felt would send me to my maker. The police told me that Jarvis had been dropping off one of his coworkers, when a motorcycle got into his lane, coming down the wrong side of the street. Jarvis dodged the guy but ran right into a large tree that pretty much totaled his truck. My sweetie was unconscious.
“Phyllis,” I screamed, trying to keep my composure, but failing miserably.
“What is it, baby?” I just handed her the phone.
Once I had gotten myself together and sent everyone home, Gennifer and I got into the car. We rode in silence except for her crying. Mrs. Phyllis stayed at the house with Phillip. I drove because I was the more coherent one. I felt as if I had drunk a bottle of Novocain that made my whole body numb. I wanted to smack Gennifer, and put her out of the car, for all of her melodramatics, but I controlled the urge. I did feel sorry for her because she was alone, except for Phillip. I didn’t know much about her, but I did know that her attitude had a lot to do with her relationship status.
The doctor didn’t want me to see Jarvis at first but when I got through cutting up sideways, they let me in. They wouldn’t let Gennifer come. I don’t think she would have been able to see him like that anyway. I nearly stopped breathing when I laid eye on him. One of his legs was up in a sling and his handsome brown face was covered with cuts and bruises. I dropped to my knees, and prayed until the nurse came to tell me it was time to go.
When I explained Jarvis’s condition to Gennifer she cried twice as much as she had earlier. “What are Phillip and I going to do if something happens to Jarvis? I can’t take care of him by myself. I know I give him a hard time about everything, but I still care about him.”
“Gennifer,” I said putting my hand on her shoulder. She looked up at me. “No matter what happens, and Lord knows I hope he’ll be all right, but if something does happen to Jarvis, I’ll always be there for you and Phillip.”
“But…”
“No buts. When I married Jarvis, you and that little boy became my family too. I could never turn my back on you, no matter how crazy your ass is.” That girl was speechless for the first time since I’d known her and it made me smile through the tears in my eyes. We sat there and held each other for a long time. I felt all of the animosity that had been between us melting away.
Jarvis came out of his coma after a week and a half. When Gennifer and I went to pick him up, he did a double take. “What’s the business? Y’all must have gone crazy while I was half dead.”
“No, we just came to an understanding,” I said.
“What kind of understanding?” Jarvis asked suspiciously.
“That if you died, we would move in together.”
“What the …?”
“Just kidding, baby, calm down,” I said kissing his face.
“Sonia and I called a truce. I’ll try not to give her a hard time and she will try not to kick my butt if I slip up,” Gennifer said.
“It’s about time. Does that truce extend to me too? I wanted to bust your head a couple of times myself.”
“Damn, y’all violent,” Gennifer laughed. “Yes, I promise not to get you riled up either.”
Who knew that Gennifer and I would have become friends? She had hated me since day one. I really thought she would revert back to her old ways after a while, but she didn’t. I guess she finally understood that there was no reason for us to have any animosity against each other because Phillip was the most important person in all of our lives and that it was important for us to get along, for his sake.
With her attitude under control, maybe could find her a good dude to keep her occupied.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
What Does My Twitter Bio Really Say About Me
Let me provide a little more information about my subject matters.
Mother
I am a mother first and foremost. I’ve held this title for nearly four years and I’m still learning how to be a good mother. By no means am I perfect, but I’m doing the best I know how and I hope my son appreciates it when he gets older. I talk about some of the outings we go on and some of the funny things he says in the course of a day. At times I even ask for advice concerning my child’s education or why he may be behaving in a certain way.
Writer
Writing was a part of my life long before I became a mother. I write poetry, short stories, unfinished novels and of course blog posts. My desire to be a professional writer is the number one reason why I joined Twitter in the first place. I have met writers at various levels. From professionals to aspiring, from traditional published to self-published, from fiction to non-fiction and everything else in between. No matter what level the writer is on, I learn something from all of them on a regular basis through their blogs, YouTube videos and conversations with them on Twitter.
Reader
Before I was a writer, I was a reader. Reading was my first love (Some of the stuff I read as a youngster led to my first love with a boy but that’s another story.) Many times I tweet links to blog posts that I find interesting or about a book or ebook that I’m reading or have read and enjoyed.
Thinker
Things are always popping into my head, even in the middle of the night. Sometimes it’s a story idea or a lyric from a song that I can’t get out of my head. Sometimes I tweet these lyrics and sometimes I post a link to the video on YouTube. When something ways heavy on my mind, I write a blog post about it and link to it. (Which is what I’m going to do with this post).
Natural Hair
I didn’t even know there was a such thing as a natural hair community until I got on Twitter. I had been toying with the notion of growing my relaxer out but I really didn’t think much of it until I ran across a couple of tweets with the hashtag #naturalhair. When I clicked on it I saw a legion of nappy headed, curly haired, kinky haired African American women that had cut all of their hair off or were in the process of growing the chemically treated hair out and trimming it a little at a time. From joining and participating in this community, I have learned so much about my own hair. Sometimes, when the mood hits me, I even create and then link to my own YouTube videos.
Relationships
Most of the poems and stories I’ve written over the years have dealt with relationships. Some of the relationships were really good and some were so bad that a person was on the verge of going to jail before they took anymore abuse from the other person. (Been there, almost did that.) Sometimes I pose questions to tweeps requesting their opinion on something I had been thinking about and that I plan to write about.
Family
Even though my son is the only family that actually lives in my household, I see my dad almost daily and my baby sister once a week. I encounter other members of my family a couple times a year. Sometimes it’s pleasant sometimes I vow not to see them for maybe two to three years the next go around. A lot of times I respond to family related tweets because I have been through or personally know of examples of similar situations.
Social Media
Last but definitely not least, I am addicted to social media. From Twitter to Facebook to YouTube and all of the blogs I can stand to read. Social media feeds my all of the previously mentioned items. If there is something going on in my life that I can’t explain, I Google it and get all kinds of answers as to why it happened and how it can be prevented from happening in the future. My dad thinks the internet is the devil but maybe if I told him I learned how to deal with his crazy antics from some of the things I read on the internet, he would sing a different tune.
Well this is my spiel for today. Let me know if you think that I should narrow my range of subjects, if I should only tweet or blog about one thing or if you love my flighty-ness and think I’m the best thing since sliced bread was invented. Please don’t lie to me.
Looking forward to hearing from you.
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