REDO.

I had an epiphany while sitting on the toilet today.  Interestingly enough, this is where a lot of profound thoughts are discovered.

I asked myself, "What happened to ME?"   I don't feel like myself and I don't think I am acting like myself.  Somewhere, lost in self-improvement, personal responsibility, nice line-ups, the ebbs and flows of adjusting to Philadelphia, and the good things happening in my life, I forgot who I am.

I have evolved, but this is not a feeling of adjusting to changes in my life.  When I look in the mirror each morning, I see a stranger.  I have subconsciously created these thick walls around me, keeping out people and locking me in.  When I interact with people, I feel like the neighbor on home improvement—offering small conversations and quick laugh, but not allowing anyone to see me.

I didn't plan this, or maybe I did.

I need a do-over.  That's the epiphany.

Tonight, I plan to sit down and write a list of all the things I don't like about myself.  I plan to make a list of all of the things I do like about myself.  Somewhere in between that I want to get on the right track.  I want to look in the mirror and see Cherina.

I have been lying on the side of the road, waiting for someone to pick me up, but that's not going to happen; I have to be my own superhero.  I have to recreate what my life should be, because I have been so focused on the past that I cannot get a clear handle on the future.

Thank god for toilets…and epiphanies.

My Love Life.

I expect the worst in people, specifically women, especially when I am dating.  I try to convince myself, I don't do that.  I want to believe that I don't try to find things that are wrong, but I do.

I daydream about the perfect woman, but everyone has a “story” and no one is perfect, whatever that means.  But recently, I had to be more rational about my love life.  Dating has been more interesting than fun. I have been considering a long term relationship.  In the past, I have spray painted red flags during my courtships and relationships with the purest and finest white paints. But when those flags faded to pink and eventually back to red, it was a reminder that you can’t close your eyes and act like something isn’t there. 

So, now, when there are red flags, I don’t continue to waste anyone’s time—especially mine.

But what happens when you are so used to attracting women who are not good for you, that you try to create red flags that aren’t there in women who might be?

You ask yourself, “Why in the fuck am I doing this?”

I had a really good weekend spending time with a pretty young woman. She was great company and a great conversationalist. We spent most of our time talking and listening to music, two of my favorite activities. She is kind and thoughtful.  For two days I was thinking, “There has to be a red flag, I know there is a red flag.” I should not have wasted my time doing that.

She’s great and probably good for me.  I haven’t scared her off with my quirks.  But things are going slow, which is good for me and something that I am not used to. 

I am enjoying these moments with no expectations and without trying to predict the future; it is an amazing experience. 

Considerations while having babies

…well more like having thoughts about babies.

• I love meeting toddlers, because we always get to play one of my favorite games: guess the gender. Not surprisingly, they always lose.

• Speaking of kids—I love them. They just say what they observe, how they're feeling and what they think of you—until adults corrupt them and tell them that's wrong. And that's odd, considering it's not quite working for us.

• What is this "baby-gotta-have-Jordans" culture?  My child will be barefoot and wear socks until he/she can actually walk in shoes.  

• I never know what to say to babies, so I always say, I love your outfit—I have the same outfit at home---and then we just have a stare off.

• I hope one day, because I'm thinking I probably won't have kids, I will be someone's Godmo…fa..Godperson (that works).

• Babies and puppies always put a smile on my face.

• I don't really believe in hitting children. *ducks from tomatoes and other random objects* But I swear, when I see a kids screaming and acting out in public, I want to give them the most tragic karate chop known to man.

Boston (the friendship part)

I can’t articulate the joy and relief I felt when I laid eyes on my friend, whom I haven’t seen in almost two years. She was supposed to pick me up from the train station on Saturday morning when I arrived in Boston, but unforeseen circumstances on her way back from a trip to Detroit, found her leaving Philadelphia with me on Friday night. It was a pleasant and welcomed surprise.

These past few years have been nothing but moments of ups and downs, but mostly downs. The physical distance away from friends has been heart-breaking, and although I manage with phone calls and text messages, being in physical proximity is invaluable.  It is clear, by the tears I fought back returning to Philadelphia, that my friendships anchor me in a way that I have not fully understood or appreciated.  The conversations I had with my friend revealed similarities that made me better understand our connection and why we are so close.  The experience made me consider what friendships really mean to me, which I accept will continue to evolve as I evolve.

I greatly needed all of the love that I received this weekend.  The memories are gems that I will use to lighten any dark days I have ahead.

Boston (the soul part)

I traveled to Boston this weekend.  The trip was planned well in advanced, and by the time I set out for the midnight train on Friday night, the excursion was more needed than wanted.

I made a lot of observations, and with the help of my very dear friend, I made some honest considerations about what I need at the soul level.  And as interesting as that may sound, I will reserve those thoughts for another time.

My soul some good…

My entire visit and the few experiences I had in Boston were amazing.  I was invited to a gathering on Saturday night. Me, my friends and about 20 other people socialized and ate with one another. It was the most diverse social gathering I have ever been a part of. There were people from other ethnic backgrounds and other countries; I didn’t feel out of place. I had an awesome conversation with a young lady and her son who are Sikhs; her husband was the featured speaker that night. We discussed movies and amusement parks, and how wrapping her turban can be hit or miss.

I was enlightened by the talk given by her husband (their name escapes me), but more importantly, it did my soul some good to be in the company of such a diverse group of spiritual seekers. It didn’t matter which path or religion each person followed; it wasn’t important.  The fellowship that fostered an atmosphere of understanding and acceptance made such a profound impact on me, it is doubtful that I will ever forget the experience.

Small Change. Huge Payoff.

Eight years ago I was fired from a job.  My tenure was brief and challenging.  The job involved a lot of test taking, quick memorization and sitting through long agonizing training sessions. It was a very unique place to work, but nothing like I expected when I accepted the job. 

I had to work hard to keep up with the other new employees. I worked overtime most days, coming into work at four in the morning attempting to master or at the very least, pass these tests that held the fate of my employment in their grip.  At that time, I was still comparing my intelligence to everyone I met, and I didn't want to be exposed as the idiot I thought I was.

Needless to say, my performance failed to meet the company's expectations and on a sunny Friday evening in 2005, I was dismissed.

Most jobs in the field I have worked have been challenging, but I make due and give 250% effort to the 75% other people may give. I'm really good at what I do and I have become tremendously more knowledgeable. In short, I work my ass off. 

Attention Deficit Disorder is covered under the American's With Disabilities act.  I never considered exploring what that meant to me in the workplace until I had a conversation with a friend.  When I noticed a pattern of behavior that started to adversely affect my performance at my most recent job, I decided to do more research on ADD and write down what I needed. Armed with documentation from my psychiatrist, I spoke to my manager about the accommodations I needed. My requests were reasonable: Remove the bright light from above my head. Allow ear-buds so I can listen to white noise to block out office chatter, so I can better focus on my work. Move my area away from heavy office traffic.  My manager understood and was more than accommodating.  Once the changes were made, my performance improved in such a way that I began to get emails of praise from managers and end-users. 

Truthfully, I am still insecure about discussing Attention Deficit Disorder with people. There are some people, even mental health professionals who feel it's purely fictional; it is still greatly debated in the medical community.

I wanted to share this because there may be a lot of people who may be struggling at work because they suffer from ADD (or some other mental illness), not realizing that asking your employer to make small, reasonable adjustments could make a huge impact on the quality and quantity of work you produce. Small changes could make you a happier and more effective employee.  It gave me the confidence I lost a long time ago.

Songs I'm Diggin' this week...

We OFF that - the list

Reality TV shows. We fuckin’ get it—it’s lucrative.  But the potential art of reality TV has completely been sold out to the devil and his minions. Every new reality show is less and less original and unimpressive.  Yes, you can probably make a “reality” TV special about every aspect of life, but we don’t all have to be privy to the debauchery of ordinary folks who become “stars” based on ZERO talent or creativity. Occupy reality TV.

People doing what other people do because other people are doing it.  Grow a pair; be original.

Leading people on. We fuckin’ get it—you’re so compassionate you don’t know how to tell someone you’re no longer interested or you were never interested to begin with.  Stop confusing compassion with cowardice.  The truth doesn’t hurt the lie does, stupid.  Egos are not built Ford tough; they are the most fragile elements of our existence, so they are not HARD to bruise.  But like every bruise, you apply some tussin’ to that shit and you move the fuck on.  What makes it hard to move on, and will have someone in front of your house with a brick and pit bull, are your lies (and if they didn’t quite get a chance to take their meds).  Stop lying to people. People don’t want your raggedy pity because you didn’t choose them.  Truthful rejection is respected more than taking small dumps on someone until they get tired of smelling like shit and THEY decide to move on. 

Bad news. Surely. I mean SURELY someone can report good news.  Where the fuck is the balance?

Coming to a club with a silver bubble vest, and a sports bra, a pair of jeans and….wait for it……………a pair or Tims.

News about celebrity antics. They are human beings for god’s sake! They do drugs, have raunchy sex, use vulgarity, can be disrespectful, and sometimes don’t give a fuck about their actions---95% of the world does that every FUCKING day, and the news anchor reporting that bullshit took part in all of those things 12 minutes before his punk ass had to be on the air.  Stop expecting to be impressed by ordinary people.

Dirty ass politicians. This is a no-brainer and we should have BEEN off these fools.

People not knowing the difference between the Civil Rights Movement and civil rights

Using Martin Luther King’s name in vein. Yes, I’m looking at black and white people and ESPECIALLY racist ass gay rights activists.

Fools being mad that you haven’t called them when they have your number. Da fuck—if you missed me THAT much, call me.  My number hasn’t changed in 10 years, but my opinion about you just did.

Using being broke as a symbol of humility. FUCK. THAT. SHIT. There is a difference between being flat ass broke and living under your means. ‘UNDER’ implies that you have means—broke implies you don’t. I don’t care about what anyone has to say, I want my means in big bills, thanks.

Saggy skinny jeans. No one wants to see your ass or your stankin’ ass draws.  When I sagged in high school, my jeans were baggy and the LAST thing I wanted anyone to see was my stankin’ ass draws.  Get off that shit.  It’s not even fashion. It’s just dumb. Don’t be dumb.

Judging people’s characters by what they know of their past. My barber was in prison for a long time.  The stories he and his friends discuss as he lines me up are colorful.  But he is trying to turn his life around.  I don’t go to him because he is the greatest barber—he’s not.  I continue to go back because he is polite, respectful and he talks to me as if I was one of his friends. His friends and fellow barber always SMILE when I walk in and in NO way make me feel awkward.   I have gone into at least ten barbershops in the time I have been in Philly and each time have sat waiting on a barber, never to be acknowledged or served. Three weeks ago I remember sitting for 30 minutes to be served, a chair finally opens and I point to the chair, the barber waves me off, sits in his chair and proceeds to watch TV.  This is NOT an exaggeration.  I judge people based on MY interaction with them, not by what other people think of them.

Considerations While Visiting DC.

Most of us have had similar experiences, which is why there are clusters of people who talk the same, understand the same slang, know the lyrics to the same songs, and share the same viewpoint about any given subject. Those similarities also breed the same fears that create roadblocks to endless possibilities that we’ll never explore.

You can change the scenery ten times over, but our culture is full of the same kinds of folks; we’re not as different from each other as we think.

Waiting for someone to change into the person you want or hope them to be is better time spent changing yourself and finding the person you don’t have to wait for to change.

DC is not this magical chocolate city that people play it up to be, but perhaps my attitude is based on the lesbian community I have been exposed to—which is not magical at all. I’ve been to DC four times in the last year.  This last visit made me thankful for living in Philadelphia, grateful to experience the presence of progressive black women and indifferent about black lesbians living in DC.  To be fair, four visits in an isolated circle is not really enough time to judge the entire city.

I have to make obtaining a passport as necessary as making a payment on my student loans.  I need to see this world I so eagerly want to continue contributing to.

I do dance. I’m just not going to dance to a song I don’t like or know.

I hate when people want me to jump into a picture. Why?

I hate trying to have conversations in a club environment.  I always leave with a sore throat and a busted eardrum. Ouch.

I’d rather be texting.