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Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Freeze tags on the way to 7th heaven
"And we lay down on the sand of the sea
And before us animosity will stand and decree
That we speak not of love only blasphemy
And in the distance, 6 others will curse me
But that's alright
4 I will watch them fall
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6,
...7." - Prince
7 things I plan to do before I die:
- Make the transition from merely going through the motions for a paycheck's sake to having a career that makes me feel fulfilled while affording my compulsive shoe habit.
- See my family's homelands in their entirety to deepen my appreciation, knowledge and pride in where my roots lie.
- Backpack throughout Europe to meditate on life, love, the pursuit of happiness with a map in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.
- Get my driver's license. No, I'm not an alien from the planet Melmar. But since I reside well outside the city limits of West Bubblefuck, USA, affording to delegate cash to others to be behind the wheel isn't a stretch. So yeah, um... I'm working on that.
- Free myself from the 8-ball of financial messiness I put myself in as an irresponsible, reckless, devil-may-care undergrad with a pocketbook full of kryptonite. Credit cards.
- Become a do-right woman so I can attract a do-right man in turn.
- Get into the Dolce & Gabbana corset dress hanging in my closet. It's been taunting me for over a year but I am determined to work that shit if even I'm old and gray stuck eating creamed corn out of a can. Nearly had to scrap with a drag queen at a sample sale for it...you think it ain't getting some mileage?
- Sing. Although my public forays to the stage have ended eons ago, I don't break mirrors or cause backyard pets to howl in pain while harmonizing in the shower. Not quite Whitney in her prime but nowhere near Macy Gray.
- Cook. A woman brought up in a Caribbean household without culinary skills borders on sheer blasphemy. So please believe, I gets down in the kitchen.
- Speak fluent Spanish, passable Italian and pedestrian French. I'm working to get my weight up on the latter.
- Tie a cherry stem with my teeth. It's one of the barroom tricks that'll get knowing glances every time.
- Remain in the company of me, me and me while out and about feeling totally comfortable.
- Be a stand-in tool time girl around the house...Bob Vila need not apply. Almost anything I've put my mind to that required assembly or technical instructions for an electronics/furniture setup hasn't caused much grief for me to figure out.
- Kill folks with kindness. While it's a stretch for me to camouflage my emotions because I have the demeanor that sends all kinds of body language red flags, I can buck for an Oscar nod with the best of bullshit artists. The same folks who would get serenaded with a tinkle shower on their grave could garner a honeyed smile and remain none the wiser.
- Swim. After watching my mom nearly drown before my eyes, I've upgraded my personal terror alert from anytime-I-feel-like-it amber to of-paramount-importance-in-my-repertoire orange.
- Understand the dichotomy that are Black conservatives. With so many high powered Aunt Tomasinas (see: Condi) and Stepin Fetchits (see: Clarence/Armstrong/Ward), you'd think I'd be used to the behavior of house Negroes in the public eye, but I can't help but feel like Laurence Fishburne at the end of School Daze. WAKE UP!
- Live in the Pacific Northwest. Anywhere that has a propensity for extended periods of rain, an onslaught of brothers seeking out Beckys exclusively and no sources of West Indian culture just ain't happening. EVER.
- Get to work on time. This is where the bane of stereotypes kick my ass since I've been afflicted with CPT since high school and I see no signs of the habit being broken in the foreseeable future.
- Lose my childlike enthusiasm. People tend to equate getting older with morphing into some crotchety stick-in-the-mud and that just ain't me. I'm quite the cynic, but becoming jaded towards it all just isn't living. Little things still bring me joy. Laughter at damn near everything is a huge makeup of who I am and it keeps me from taking myself too seriously.
- Cop a bootleg anything. Whether it's a CD, DVD or a Louie Fuitton straight outta Canal St. I can't get with the imitations. Call me crazy, but I need the liner notes of an album. I live for the brand new smell and tags of a purse. Ain't nothing like the real thing, baby.
- Take my fondness for certain celebrities to the outer reachings of an online restraining order. If it comes to the point where you're threatening bodily harm towards a perfect stranger in defense of your favorite pinup's honor. Log the fuck off. Immediately.
- Intelligence. I cannot begin to stress the importance of this enough. And I don't mean in just the conventional prerequisites of what boosts a GPA, but also in a well rounded arc that encompasses the gamut of interest stories from all areas. If we can vibe about Cornel West & Henry Louis Gates with the same ease as 2 cone layup vs. the jump stop for shooting effectiveness - now we're getting somewhere. However, if phrases like "conversate" are in your vocab and BET's Nightly News is your only source to the outside world, take a cue from the Pharcyde because I'll pass your ass by.
- Confidence. Often mistaken for DL thug bravado and arrogance, the true essence is neither. The quiet, yet distinctive power of a man whose at ease in his own skin with the kind of magnetism that draws you in rather than leaving you cold is one helluva aphrodisiac.
- A self-effacing sense of humor. It goes without saying that laughter has always been my quicker-picker-upper and a man who can who gives as good as he gets is totally a keeper.
- Good looks. Hell, I'd be one hypocritical bitch if I didn't admit that being physically blessed doesn't hurt. Rather not have someone drop-dead gorgeous as that's just asking to have your mirrors monopolized, but if I've got to wake up to you in the morning having a face that more people than just your mother will love isn't too much to ask.
- A sense of style. No, you don't have to wave a metrosexual banner with vigor, but recognizing that Timbs and a football jersey don't mesh with every damn thing goes a long way.
- Proper hygiene. Bad breath, teeth the color of stained glass, malodorous body stenches, unkempt haircuts/braids/'locs...does it even need to be explained with these are non-negotiables?
- Someone who recognizes that chivalry & romance are NOT dead. I'm sorry, but coming at me with the "yo, why don't you come over and chill?" line will earn you a dial tone. There are too many things that cost little to nada which are a welcome change of pace other than being holed up on your couch watching music videos.
- Whatever
- Anyway
- Jawn (the scourge of Philly lingo has rubbed off on me. Forgive me Father for I have sinned.)
- Damn
- Say word?
- Bullshit
- Yeah right
- Curtis Martin. His reputation for being a born-again holy roller is known, so praying that one of these days I can get him to lay hands on me to release the heathen beneath the surface has been added to my Hail Mary's.
- Derek Jeter. Okay, so maybe I wasn't as sympathetic as I could've been about the whole threatening letter thing, since the likelihood of DJ getting some brown sugar in his life is slim to none...but I've still got love for him. The green-eyed heartbreaker single handedly made me sit up and take notice of the fall classic and kept my attention for 10 years strong. I do love a man in pinstripes. ;o)
- Nas. Call him Nasty, Esco, God's Son... but most of all, call this lyrical wordsmith very easy on the eyes. It ain't hard to tell why this Queensbridge dime has had me open since the first time I caught a glimpse of him on Video Music Box. Chipped tooth and all, he was still flyer than your average.
- Bryce Wilson. One word sums up this former half of Groove Theory: yummy.
- Chris Webber. The panty-dropping powers of his smile work like a Spanish Fly overdose. What a tall, chocolaty drink of fineness he is.
- Aaron McGruder. What's more appealing than boyish good looks alone? A cutie with killer wit and a brilliant mind. Behold the possessor of both qualities. Mental masturbation would be taken to a whole 'nother level.
- Jesse Metcalfe. When has sleeping with the gardener been such an obvious choice?
link | Shot from the lip by TriniPrincess at 12:48 PM |
3 Comments:
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Black Wombmyn Chat commented at 10/12/2005 10:27:00 PM~
Yeah, I loved reading your answers. This was very entertaining.
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Fresh commented at 10/13/2005 11:18:00 AM~
Damn...I done got got! I'll try to get it up over the weekend. Daggone homework! LOL
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Felicite commented at 10/16/2005 03:23:00 PM~
This is tough! But I am going to do it because you said so! Have a GREAT trip! Read about it when you get back chica!
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