Peanut Butter by the Spoonfuls

I swear I could eat like 3 jars a week. This increase is due to my new “Meat Only On Saturday” Diet. Yep, I gave up bacon until brunch. That was the saddest break up ever. No pork, beef, chicken or any of the sort until Saturday. I let myself slide with fish twice a week but that’s it.

So here I am on the floor with a spoon, jar of peanut butter, and a book. Sounds like a fairly safe combination until your friend asks you why the book she borrowed from you has all these brown smudges on the odd pages. And it’s just the odd pages, mind you. I told her that, “Sh*t  Peanut Butter happens, ya know”

I’m kinda snobby with my PB too. In all sorts of ways. Like, bruh, don’t give me no super crunchy ish. And I ‘m not a sucker for the “organic” label on er’thang but best believe ima be checking for it on my peanut butter so you can take that oily separated generic stuff back where you found it. And never ever buy that jelly/peanut butter mixed stuff. Like why? Who does that? Let’s cut right to the chase. I like my peanut butter like I like my whiskey, straight no chaser, lady so hold the jelly please. No, like really, I actually want you to hold it while I go get some local jam or preserves cause I dont understand this jelly business. I thought Jelly was the stuff Bey and neem used to sing about, “I dont think you ready for this jelly.” Hell naw, I aint ready and you shouldnt be either.

Welp, rant is done. Purge is over. Jar demolished. And smudges errrrr’where!

 

 

 

Advertisements

Retiring the Internet: How I Plan to Swerve my Internet Addiction

Yep, I said it. And I mean it, somehow.

I am giving up my dependency on the internet. Maybe not permanently but def temporarily for right now.

Life feels too swirly as of late. Life in the fast lane is already fast enough without the addiction of the internet. Which is clearly just a rabbit hole waiting to suck our attention and deplete us of energy. I am convinced. Basically because I hate being too dependent on anything. Too much of anything is a bad thing, not to mention what happens when we abuse it.

I abuse technology, the main target being the internet. I just hop on it whenever I please, for however long I like, doing God knows whatever it is that I happen to like at the time. And oh boy, there are so many dungeons and dark holes to fall into on the internet. I was living in a new, big, beautiful city but was not exploring any of it because I would never leave the comfort of my laptop screen. Busying myself with the claim that I was looking up places to meet people or trying to find ways to connect with people, I rarely ventured outside. Thirst trap if there ever was one.

My Master Plan:

  1. Destroy the mf’n wifi. You read that right. I plan to disable it when I am not using it. If it weren’t for marriage, it would be in the right bottom kitchen drawer collecting dust. But I can’t torture the man like that.
  2. Plan my internet use. Do I have an absolute, definite purpose for using the internet today? No. Good, no need to log on. Yes, I do need to use the web today? For what? I plan to write down my needs for internet the night before logging on the next day. No plan, no internet. (Planning to look at cat memes or ratchet youtube videos is allowed, just not too much.)
  3. Use the Internet outside the home. For some reason, devouring countless hours of internet use at home is much easier to do in lieu of going to the library and having whatshisface from the bus stop stare at you over his computer monitor. Nothing like a nice noisy mouth breather to hurry your work along 🙂 To that end, I will be forced to make monthly trips to the place I call my second home…the library.

 

Welp, here’s to the swerving. Hope you will continue to read my journey.

 

Brain Vomit — Seeing is Believing and other Corny Office Posters (I mean, it’s really just that one)

Seeing is Believing

If Seeing is Believing shouldn’t we change what we see?

So it’s not just a office poster of a cat meme? Seeing really is believing. How many ways can you see becomes the real test of faith. Can you see when you close your eyes? I can. There are those who have learned or are learning how to walk by faith and not by sight. They are learning to see with their eyes closed because some where in life, probably in some dingy stale-air office in a run-down brick building that seeing truly is believing.

Can I be one of those people? How can I put this to work in my own life?

You can either do this one or two ways. But there is something that must do first.

First: What Shall we SEE?

You have to find something by which you can “see”. What is something that you want or would be nice to have right now? Think about this question without thinking too hard about the money. When I did this a while ago, I said it would be nice to drive a really nice car, like a BMW or Porsche. Because well, I like to drive. Fast.

Next Step: Seeing it

Go see it for yourself. Where is it kept? Who has them? Where can you become to have one? For me, seeing it was visiting the BMW dealership. At this time in my life, I was, in laymen’s terms, the quintessence of BROKE. I was a mental wreck, in debt up to my eyeballs, and barely hanging on to my job and my life.  But even for me in my financial state, I still ventured to the Porsche dealership just to see it. I remember the salesman being a really nice older gentleman. He reminded me of the butler from Archer. When he found me, I was looking at a Porsche 911. He quite amused but very much pleased by both my selection and knowledge of said selection. Needless to say, if old dude handles fine china the way he does 60 in a curve well I’d say he’d make a rather dashing butler 😉

Did I make $1 million later on that year a buy that Porsche? No- but what did happen was that the next year my husband and I purchased a BMW. My husband is luckily also into cars and we found out that we could get a really good deal on a great car!

Yea but it’s not a porch you may say. If you said that you’d be missing out on my point. Remember that this part if only a test. Once you have shown to yourself that seeing is believing with your natural eyes even in the most conventional way of seeing, you will move on to seeing with your eyes closed as well as seeing what is not seen.

As usual, I hope you loved my brain vomit! If you think you would like to actually hear my brain vomit, let me know. I could “see” myself doing a podcast. And lastly, if you really wanna  “see” my brain vomit up close let me know, as I can also “see” myself doing a podcast in my own spot downtown. Let me know so maybe we can “see” our lives unfold together!

Poisoned By It

Firstly, it’s totes real. There’s no activity, nor device alert, nor conversation piece that escapes the mighty power of constipation. What in life is pleasant when you’re full to the brim with weallknowwhat?

That’s kinda how life can get sometimes. We fill every cavity of our body with the emotions, thoughts, and situations of everyone else without taking the proper care to release every now and again 😉

Luckily for life, the options do not smell quite as bad. Releasing comes in several forms. It is a natural urge to experience the release when it begs of us.

If you were waiting for me to get personal, I shall. Currently I am writing to an audience. The audience is you. Our destinies are linked. The stars have aligned…..or….

***For Parents or Children of “those Parents”; please stop here if you do not care for enhanced pleasurities of language. By reading further, you forfeit your right to complain or judge hereto til the end.****

For the past few weeks I experienced said life constipation. I was full of shit. I had bottled up in me years of baggage, life whatnots, emotional fragments of prior relationships, and childhood drama. But as one knows, things took a wrong turn the longer I held it in. I became poisoned by it. The husband wasn’t doing things right. My job situation was uncertain and frustrating. I would complain about both constantly, not out loud but def in the dialogue in my head.

I became so over it and knew I needed to rid myself of it. Sweet release. Here we are. You and I have met again. To dance. To sing. To laugh. To be. Such a sweet release this is to me.

What if God is a Dick?

I mean really, think about it. What if God is a complete asshole of a supreme being? How would you react?
Would you act differently? If so, what would that make you? How would it shape your perception of religion and life?
Sitting atop a pillow one day in the half lotus position, stoned as a hippie, I saw a floating image of the Mona Lisa. I saw Da Vinci and I saw the floating image of our pictured God. Oh, Mona and her smirk or smile. Is she man or woman? Oh, Da Vinci, how you teased us so! Or did he really? I read “the Da Vinci Code” a while back and found it completely fasciniating, all the secret societies and such. You know a conspiracy is exciting! I read more books after that about great artists and contemporaries of that day and noticed how they were oddly very religious and also very technical. Take Da Vinci for example and the Last Supper drawing. So much has been written and said about that famous piece. What was my take on it? And why am I mentioning this? More importantly, as the daughter of a southern preacher, why in God’s name was I even suggesting that God could even be a DICK or all things?
Please allow me to tell you. All of my tales begin and end with books, just so you know. I have a thing for knowledge and wisdom. At any rate, I developed a strong interest in religions outside of my own. I was tired of the same old church, the same old doctrine, and the same old God. God was some bearded old, wise looking white man. And Jesus was this strikingly, handsome Orlando Bloom-type, goodietwoshoes. And God, along with this young Orlando Bloom looking character were the perfect, docile, spiritual beings that were perfect and gave us salvation. They never experienced any wrong, never got mad, never had a drunk night or fight with the roommate over who left the open condom on the kitchen counter. Just two perfect, super nice dudes, who just give away stuff, and have all of these rules for salvation but didnt get mad if you broke them beacuse they are God, right?
I read more books from all religions that painted God as this completely super nice dude. I also read scripture after scripture about how we were created in his image. That struck a different cord in me. I was now so freaking confused. Wait, so we were created in God’s image to mirror and reflect him who is perfect? How could we? In the same sentence it also tells us how we were born into sin. Let’s not get too technical here for you bible scholars. So here I am in the midst of this kerfunkle, if you will. I keep repeating to myself, “we were made in the image of God. we are also sinners. We also reflect God.” If I hold a mirror to my face, will I not see my face? If I looked deeper, will  I not see both the good and the ugly in me? How can I not expect perfection if I was mirrored after an all-perfect Being. He even sent his Son here to show us that perfection was possible but we are not supposed to be perfect?
Sitting atop that pillow, frustrated as possible, staring at this image of the floating image in front of me, there can a clear question: “What if God is a complete dick?” I mean like a real asshole. You know the type– the type that has no filter and will call out whomever he pleases. The dick that so readily picks out the flaws in others will heralding himself to a higher standard of flawlessness. The dick that girls try to stay away from but cant because they are quite charasmatic and irresitable. The kind that we all love to hate. Yea, that kind of dick who gets away with the impossible and makes everything look easy. What if God’s a Dick? The more I thought about it, the more it became an actual possibility.  For instance, God seems to LOVE calling people out in church. Well, at least the church I grew up in. You could be sitting one minute listening and enjoying the sermon, the next minute God has led this minister to bring up your personal private business in the pulpit. This is called “stepping on toes” in church lingo. Dick move #1. #2 God will use a minister, another imperfect sinful being to preach to the rest of us from a sit of authority.
So what is with the floating Mona Lisa and Da Vinci? I think Da Vinci also questioned the duality of God. I think he thought God was everything and nothing, he was good and bad, pretty and ugly, the yin and the yang, the beginning and the end, He is all of it. Da Vinci best portrayed this via the Mona Lisa painting. There is so much duality in the Mona Lisa, so much room for perception and such. I think Da Vinci also must have wondered about the mirroring image of God and saw that just as there is duality in us, there must be duality in God. Everything begins and ends with God. The most important piece being that life in general is about perception. Is the Mona Lisa a smiling woman? Or a smirking man? Do you perceive God to be a dick or a perfect Saint? How does the different perceptions of God change how you approach life?
Well, we all know how people live if they perceive God to be a saint. Most people can either be frustrated and hate God because they can not relate to Him or they can try their best to emulate him and deal with the accompanying frustration of not being perfect. If you perceive that by some chance that God can also be a dick, I think I would live a bit differently. I would be less timid about life and would match God’s dickness one-for-one. Not saying that I would be a complete dick but I wouldn’t go around thinking that all of this is a rose when it isn’t. I would live more openly. I would live life in the shadows of reproach. I would worry less about losing and focus on winning. Because assuming that God could be a dick sometimes, would remind me that my mortal self, in all of my original sinness, will be okay. I will remind myself then that I am truly made in His image. And that is just fine with me.

Ignorance

There was a time when I longed to be an adult so I could go make my own money and buy the good cereal, so I could stay up past my bedtime reading the latest Harry Potter, or so I could skip church on wednesday nights. As I grew older however, things changed. Drastically, the grass is always greener type approach. As an adult now, I miss those youthful days of rent-free living, 3 square meals a day, and not a worry in the world. I actually came to realize that I grew tired of eating cereal for dinner even if it is the good cereal, I can barely stay awake past 8pm, and I like going to a community church once a week. Oh how things change!
Fundamentally, I experienced a shift in my expectations. I found out that life was not as cheeky and rosy as it once was. There a cold bitter truth out there waiting to nip at the bare noses of young adults, fresh out of childhood. you can probably still smell breast milk on the breath of many. This shift happened slowly over time so that one day, at almost 30, I looked around me, startled and out of breathe. I didnt recognize myself nor my mind. I think others noticed the shift sooner than I. My mom went into paranoid freak out mode all the time, fretting over the umbilical cord that was snapped almost 3 decades ago, hoping I wont up and run away into the abyss. My employers saw the change as well as my friends.
Ignorance was the change. I became aware of the fact that I was ignorant about so much in life. This may not seem like a big life changing ordeal but this is coming from a person who thought they had a pretty optimistic view on life as they knew it. What caused this awareness of ignorance? More knowledge. I, like many transitioning adults, realized that there was a MAJOR discrepancy between what I was taught growing up and the way things really are. Like a vast difference. The more I noticed this gaping difference, the more frustrated I became. Then that frustration turned to anger, like it usually does. Officially, I became the sterotypical “too smart for their own good” kind of young adult — you know the ones. The ones that always seem to have a chip on their shoulder, always screaming about the injustice in the world, always raging on about their innocent victim role. I became her. She was me. Pessimism was my new thing. Hating “the man” was in (as if it was ever not in style). And I was in full fashion. I signed petitions, wrote letters, and attended meetings with others who had realized the unfairness of life and their own ignorance. To be quite honest, it gave me zeal for awhile. The anger had an outlet. It also allowed the anger to grow and fester into the beast of arrogance and greater ignorance. Becoming an outright rebel without a cause, just like all the other rebels without causes, I failed to really do a detailed analysis of myself, study my situation, and plan an intelligent way to deal with my ignorance and the injustice. As we know with anger, it poisons you. And poison me it did. Anger sucked all the wind out of my sails. I became depressed and despondent. I hated every job I worked. I hated poor people. I hate depressed people. I hated the man. I hated black people. I hated the south. I hated white people. I hated myself.
At my wits end, swirling a cocktail of meds and whiskey in my hands, I knew I needed to make one last ditch effort to make things right before I ended it all. I could try to save myself. There must be something here worth saving. There must be some other point of life that I was missing. This last minute question of life saved me from taking my own. If I don’t have anything to lose, clearly I didnt as I was about to drown myself in a glass of cheap whiskey and OTC sleep meds, what could I stand to gain I reasoned? I didn’t know but I was willing to find out.
This would actually be a great place to insert [The End] and continue telling the story of how my life was instantly changed. I could tell you that I put that drink down, went home and started an amazing million dollar business and non-profit to save starving children and never looked back. But I would be lying. And I would be doing both you and I an incredible disservice.
What I can tell you is that I did put that drink down. I did alot more crying, alot more hair pulling, took a few more risks and although I am still not where I want to be, I am right where I need to be. Right at the intersection of “making progress and getting there”.
I can say that we all will have that moment, or several of them if you are like me, when we feel that an incredible disservice has been done to us. We may feel like life has not prepared us enough and that in itself feels like a cold hard slap in the face- an injustice. Some of us have chosen to blame our parents, our religion, our skin color, our environment or the cat. The list of the blamed are many, the list of the responsible are few. It’s easy to blame and hard to swallow the pill of responsibility but in order to progress, we must.
I wrote this blog post to encourage someone to not let ignorance fester in you, do not let your temporary frustration turn to anger- and even if it does, I am here to tell you that there is a way out should you decide to seek it. Life is not a sprint. It is a marathon. Prizes are not awarded to those who finish the fastest but to all of those who stick with it, those who make progress, those who remain resilient in the face of uncertainty and ignorance.

Not There Yet

Our life is a journey. I learned to stop asking are we there yet and instead just sit back and enjoy the ride. At least that’s what my mommy told me. She also told me not to make her pull this car over. She told me that repeatedly. Did your mom tell you?
I like it better when I am just riding. No where to rush off to. No need to rush. No need to hurry. No need for the split second thinking involved in speeding up for a yellow light. Can you make it before it turns red? It was red when you looked up, wasn’t it? Did anybody see?
Today we are all steady rushing around. No time to smell the roses. No time to smell the coffee. It’s usually instant anyways. Straight into an insulated mug it goes. How do you drink your coffee?
I have a bedtime. I like going to bed early. I enjoy good sleep. Don’t you?
That was a nice little distraction. But I just gotta ask one last question…are we there yet?