I need professional help or an English tutor.

I don't really think that I'm a extremely self absorbed person but I just read my last post and cannot believe how many of my sentences start with "I". Mrs. Nalepa, my third grade teacher always said that we shouldn't begin all of our sentences with the word "I" because it's boring and lazy. I'm going to believe that I'm just lazy and boring for now and go brush up on my grammar because the other possibility is very unattractive.

My life hurts...

My job has me standing on my feet all day walking in circles. So damn boring but the money is good and every hour or so I get to have about fifteen minutes of fun so I guess that forty five minutes of tedium isn't so bad. At least I have a job. I'm working on not being such a self absorbed whiner and I have to tell you, it's no fun. I like talking about myself, thinking about myself and fantasizing about myself. I do like cooking for others though. That's how I nurture, and i'm damn good at it too. I just made the best yellow sheet cake with cream cheese frosting and I have nobody to feed it to.

That's my biggest problem, I like to cook but I also like to eat and that's why I can't shed those pesky ten pounds. See, talking about myself again...I have taken a week long break on the work outs. I usually work out Mon thru Fri but every couple of months my knees just go to hell and the idea of a squat or a lunge just scares me to death. I keep having daydreams about being in the middle of a set of lunges and my knee bone just popping out of it's socket and tearing through my skin, leaving me in a pile on the floor screaming for help in my basement where no one can hear me. Knee bone, you like that don't you. Well, i'm too lazy to look up the medical terminology right now.

I want to write a book, or maybe just a short story. I want to do something and finish it. I want to impress someone. I impress myself already but the things that I do aren't really things that I can show off. "Hey look at this new scarf I knitted" isn't the show stopper you'd think it is. I don't know why but it pisses me off when people don't gush over the food that I cook for them. (More on my Thanksgiving feast when I feel up to not being a lazy ass). Suffice it to say that I cooked a HUGE holiday feast and was left home alone to eat it, I even brined the damn turkey for 24 hours. I make the best peach pie in the world and whenever I give a piece to this Male person that I know he acts like it's from the frozen food section. Bitch, those are ripe Cling peaches from the heart of Georgia, I made the dough from scratch. You better recognize!

This male person, figure???? has a buddy that has been making him upside down cakes and strawberry cupcakes( which I recently found out are by way of Ms. Betty Crocker!) for years and you'd think that she had won the Pillsbury bake off the way this fool gushes. Me though, after one bite and not even a raised eyebrow in appreciation. He' s lucky I don't take it straight from the oven and smear it in his face.

What was I talking about in the first place? This post wasn't supposed to go there. Ok let's see, I was talking about work place boredom, achey knees and a need to impress. I titled this thing "My life Hurts" because whenever someone complains about aches and pains I respond by saying My life hurts. I don't know what it means, my sister is the original complaininator and I remember that after hearing one to many complaints I responded with that little gem. Now, I just say it to be a jackass. Plus, I just always pick horrible titles.

Ok, well enough about me. Not really, but bye.

I wish I was as brave as you!

I have had a few people look at my hair and then tell me how brave I must be to wear such a daring style. Just so you know, I wear dreadlocs......I'm not walking around here with a hot pink Mohawk or a blonde mullet. I just have shoulder length locs that are clean and neat.

Why do I wear locs? Well let's just say that at the age of sixteen a very talkative hairstylist that was too concerned with what so and so did to whoozy whatzy left the relaxer in my hair too long and I went bald in the back of my head so I had to let it go for a while. Well then my simple ass went back to this troll and got a bowl cut and found out later that she had used dirty clippers on my head and that I had folliculitis. Well, two weeks of antibiotics and four rounds of steroid shots in my scalp at $100.00 a pop left me wary of going to beauty salons.

I decided a few years ago that I would relax my hair at home but first I would go natural for about six months so that I could have a nice head of shiny straight hair but at about month five something strange happened. I went to the beauty supply to buy a relaxer and left with locking gel. i had a big fluffy Afro and I loved it and I haven't looked back. I'm happy with my decision but I don't think I'm brave. This is my hair and the advantages for me are much greater than they were with straight hair. I can exercise every day and not worry about sweating my edges out. I can drive with my windows down and not mess up my style. If I could swim, I would, but I can't so......

I believe that woman should do to their hair whatever they feel works for them but I can't help but feel that black women straighten their hair because we feel that what we were given naturally is unattractive. Four Hundred and some odd years of being told that you are disgusting will do that to you but I am sad that we go to such lengths to be something that we aren't when what we have is so much fun. I've heard so many women say that they only straighten their hair because it's so much more versatile but most of the ladies I see with relaxers just wear it in a pony tail every day. What's versatile about that and if versatility is what you want wouldn't your natural hair be a part of that arsenal? Look, I really don't care what people do with their hair, I just want them to be happy with what they are without changing a thing.

I have never been insulted about my hair by a white person. No, only people that look like me like to do that type of shit. Even when I relaxed my hair I would get teased and called a nappy headed bitch for nothing. Even when you can't see the kinks people still talk about them.

I don't really know what my point is anymore. I started writing only to talk about why I went natural and now I'm preaching at people which is not my intention. I just see all of these beautiful women out their with their played out weaves and wigs that aren't fooling anyone and their home relaxers that have left them practically bald and I wonder if they know how beautiful they would be with a big ass fro, long shiny locs and a big beautiful smile. We are perfect the way we are and if only took me going bald, spending six hundred dollars in medical bills, being stabbed in the back of the head with a needle full of acid and hating myself for a short while to see that.

Turner Classic Movie's alright!!

I just made the mistake? of watching "Birth of a Nation" and I really don't know what else to say. I have known about this movie forever and finally now having a chance to watch it, couldn't resist. I'm gonna let it sink in and then maybe I'll have something more to say. More than likely though, I will just have ball of anxiety, anger, confusion and sadness in my tummy for a few days and get over it like I always do. Man I gotta get fired up about something and stick with it for once. I just can't ever seem to keep my righteous indignation fired up long enough to make a difference about anything. I mean, I like baking, listening to Opera and poop jokes. I'm not that complex. Anyway....

I just spent Two Hundred dollars on clothes I don't even want for a job that demands that I only wear black which is ridiculous because I work in a field where I often spill shit all over myself and it' just stands out more on black clothes. When I think of all of the candy and magazines, music and novels, face creams and vitamins I could have bought with Two Hundred dollars....I gag.

I'm still addicted to sugar. I exercise like a dog and eat right all week and screw it up on Saturday with my nearly rotten sweet tooth. I saw a 20/20 special once about a woman on trial for killing her adopted son by poisoning him with salt and red pepper flakes but it believed by everyone that her son ate a lethal amount of salt on his own because he had a disorder that made him crave salt. I wonder if you can have an addiction, I mean a real addiction to sugar. If so, I think I have that. I mean, I ate the entire center of a chocolate cake at once a few months ago.

I wish that I could blog like the rest of you. I don't ever know what to say. I would love to speak on politics like so many of you because along with my exciting County Trotting career as a beauty representative I am actually quite interested and up to date on my world news but whenever I feel the urge to share my opinion on something I think about how many people have probably already done a better job at it than I and give up.

My locs look like shit sometimes. They are finally at my shoulders and I think that your average schlep rock would say that I have pretty hair but they are just so damn fuzzy. I hate that...

I guess if you wanna read about racist turn of the century cinema, food addictions and bad hair do's I'm your girl because the important things in life just aren't my cup of Sugar.

I need a Sugar Daddy!

I just love those candies don't you. I was making a plea to older men at first but decided to retain my dignity instead. I hate my job but that's no reason to wimp out and become a gold digger. Besides, being some dudes piece is probably as shitty a job as the one I have right now.

Yes that's right, I gots me a job!! I hate it. You didn't even know I was looking for a job or without work because I am so terrible at this blogging thing. Yeah, I have been ungainfully unemployed for a long while now and have been blessed by God with a good Job that pays well and that I hate. Let me say that if I weren't so shy I would absolutely love my job but I am a little pussy with no spine so I can't get into the groove of this work.

Long story longer, I interviewed a few months ago for a job at a department store with a makeup line. Didn't get the job because of my shyness and lack of experience with sales. I must salute the lovely lady that interviewed me because she fought like hell to get me hired. She sent me on about three interviews with different companies and they all liked me a lot and seemed to want to hire me if only I would assert myself and be more comfortable in my own skin. Well imagine my stomach turning nausea and shock when about two months later, one of the companies that had rejected me called in the middle of my bran flake breakfast to ask me if I would like to become a Freelance makeup artist. Never one to tell a person when I am scared shitless and still completely inexperienced I jumped at the offer.

Well here it is a month since that fateful day and I have been working about three times a week as a traveling Makeup Artist. I feel like I'm in the Circus and judging from the work that I have been doing I think I missed my calling. I basically go from store to store doing peoples makeup, selling them makeup and mentally shitting myself for hours at a time. I'm getting better at it every time and I'm just going to take the fact that my boss (yes, I will admit that the fact that I have a boss is kinda cool) keeps sending me to very important events and giving me these great opportunities is proof that I'm not as much of a failure as I think I am.

My schedule is kinda poopy too. I usually get weekend work which really blows as Saturday morning is usually my pancake and "Wait, Wait, don't tell me" time. My first Saturday was a shock to my system as my boss had warned me that she was just going to throw me into the fire.

6:45am until 6:30pm doing makeup and trying to get cheap people that can easily afford what I just spent forty five minutes applying to their face to now buy it. I have now spent about ten such occasions and it never ceases to amaze me that women and girls will wake up and go to a mall at 6:00 in the morning on a Saturday for the sake of free samples.

I've noticed though that I work best alone. I am fortunate to work with wonderful people but I am so self conscious that I feel like every suggestion is an attack and assurance of my impending termination. I am sure though that this time next month I will have found my groove and will be confident and happy because I love this job, I just hate the work. I have loved doing makeup for about twelve years now and am very good at it. It's just the selling that I am afraid of. I don't know why I feel like these women that set these appointments, no one put a gun up to their heads and made them come to me but for some reason I feel like I'm taking advantage of them. I don't know.....Pray for me because Friday and Saturday are gonna be two of those long days that require me to stand in one place for nine hours trying to convince people to buy stuff and I'm no good at it.

Send me your good vibes and energy.

I Survived!

Can you imagine what it must feel like to be eaten by a Shark?

Just do it.

I swear, I choose the stupidest titles for my posts.

I'm sitting here watching Nancy Grace, wanting to hurl my Swiss Roll at the TV but that would be a wast of a good Swiss Roll. This woman really pisses me off with all of her stupid instigation but that isn't the point of this post so I will digress.

I'm sitting here on a friday night with no plans to go anywhere or do anything and I'm wondering why am I not reading? I must have about seventy five books in my bedroom alone and I have to say that reading is my favorite hobby and yet I don't feel like reading. I am lucky to have a mom that used to be a voracious reader and so before I could drive I would just read her books. My mom is a romantic at heart so most of her books were love stories but that suited me fine back then. A young hormonal teenager has no problem reading love stories but after I started driving I made the Boarders books store my second home and discovered a new part of myself.

I remember the first time I went to the bookstore by myself. It was a typical boring saturday afternoon and I was driving aimlessly listening to A Prairie Home Companion. You see now why I was a lonely young woman with my tastes....I decided to go to the book store because I just love that atmosphere and I wanted a slice of that cheese cake. I walked through the Non-Fiction section and for some reason my heart was pounding. It was so overwhelming, I don't know why but I always get a little nervous when trying to find a new book. Books can be expensive and if you don't like the book it's like pouring money in the trash can and then you are just stuck with this crappy book. I don't know why but it feels almost sacreligeous to throw a book away, someone's hard work just being discarded...that is until I started recycling. I have recycled so many books man...

I remember the first book I bought that day after scouring the shelves for almost an hour. A crappy little romance aimed at young modern women, you know the story. Woman has shitty job but good friends. Can't find love but has a friend of a friend that she didn't know has loved her for years...Ugh. Maybe it's because I didn't have a boyfriend at the time that books like that appealed to me but boy they sucked. The one good thing about that experience is that I learned to be fearless in my book buying. I learned to take chances on books and not to just stick to the typical boy, girl thing. The thing about me is that once I start a book I must finish it as soon as possible. That's something that I would like to change. As much as I love to read I make it a job and sometimes miss out on the pleasure of the anticipation of picking the book up again. I remember a 700 page novel that I finished in about eight hours. I loved that book and I wish that I had given myself more time to read it. I had to go and find another book.

The best book purchase that I have ever made was a complete fluke and one of the best purchases I have ever made. I was just about to buy another one of those "I'm gorgeous but lonely with no hope of ever finding a decent job until Mr. Multi Millionaire comes along and sees the real me books" when I saw a glossy red paperback staring at me. On the cover were the words "Straight Man" with the image of a goose looking rather startled at the bottom of the page. Something about that image made me giggle and of course I thought that Straight Man meant something else...piqued my interest. On a whim I read the back cover and decided to give it a try alongside that dumb ass romance. I'd like to say that I read it over the course of a few weeks but I was done with it the next day and it is still my favorite book. I take it with me whenever I go on a trip because as long as I have it I'm entertained. Come on, a book about a smart ass college professor that threatens to kill a duck a day unless his financial demands are met.!

I became obsessed with reading after that and racked up quite a collection of books. I love the feeling of transportation that a good book gives me. I wish sometimes that I could write a book but I am too impatient to flesh any writing out and to hard on myself to be patient. I'm no snob when it comes to reading either. What makes you happy, makes you happy. I like a good romance as long as it is a good one. I like my Vivian Tam just fine. I just finished my ninth book in the Sookie Stackhouse series that inspired "True Blood" and they are a lot of campy fun. I have read everything from Jane Eyre to the occasional Harlequin. You know what...don't read those. I can honestly say I think that those are kind of detrimental to your happiness and taxing on your brain power. I'm not a snob but the rich man, dumb girl thing is played out. Truth be told I have probably read more crappy books than good but to me the good ones make it worth all the effort. So, I guess i'll read into my bookshelf and pick something out. Finish my Swiss Roll, turn off Nancy Graces prattling and read a book.

P.S. Any grammatical errors are due to this keyboard with the candy stuck in the keys, I like to snack while I type.

Those Backsliders, Backsliders!

Backsliders hunh, sounds like a lunchtime special at the Red Robin. I feel so ashamed. I missed church today. I have been on a mission to serve the lord in person this month and I am off to a terrible start. I would like to make the argument that I am without vehicular transportation because my sister took my car so that she could go to church, so I guess that her soul is safe but I could have gotten to church if I really wanted to. I would like to make the argument that I am still scarred by my experience in july at the church of the holy monster of perpetual misery, after my run in with the shriveled little dragon lady with the head like a totem pole, but I can't use that as an excuse.

For me, church is like exercising. Yes, sometimes I fell sweaty and my heart rate goes bonkers and while I don't end up on my hands and knees that often in church I feel that this is a good comparison. It takes about thirty minutes every day for me to get the gumption to work out, same thing with church. I don't want to go but when I get there I sure am happy I came. Keep me in your prayers. Jesus got on the cross so the least I can do is get on my feet and praise my father. Peace...

Ode to sister Skinny Jeans. i'm bored...

You smoke like a Chimney, You eat like a hog, You drink like a fish and You sleep like a log.
You think you're immortal but let's not pretend Continue indulging Your life will soon end.
You're huffing and puffing from doing one squat. You claim that you're healthy All I say is NOT!
I try to persuade you a fruitless endeavor. I say eat this salad You shriek and say Never! You can go no further than past your front yard cause all of your goodies are soaking in lard.
Please don't pass out somewhere that I can't find you. Be smart and put all this gluttony behind you. I hope you don't lapse into some deep coma I guess I'll just wait and then follow the aroma.

Your favorite food groups are Crisco and Cola, I won't donate organs I'll just shrug and say told ya!
I know you were brought up on Fried chicken and corn but it's been thirty years since the day you were born. You're skinny and cute and muscular to boot but you're veins remind me of Magnolia tree roots.
It's hard to kick habits before you see damage, keep eating like this and the guys will say damn b****.

In the bible it says that the bodies a temple, God didn't know that you were so simple. A temple is meant to be adorned and praised. A Temple's not meant to be basted and braised. You're temple could do with a nice herbal cleanse just remember to go out and buy some Depends.

I say these things not to hurt or betray you. You're nice and that's how I want to portray you. I love you and want you to be here for years. You're lifestyle is going to have us in tears.

If you end up hooked up to an iron lung, don't expect me to come feed you your tums. Heart pills are costly but exercise cheap. I won't pay your healthcare so please don't weep if instead of a coffin you lie in a heap. A heap in the backlot of some cemetery in a bag that say Hefty or Ziploc or Jerry's.

Maybe instead we should just cremate you. Then you'll know how it feels to be Satan's teammate too. I'll keep you in a bucket next to my waist bin, It's not fair how you eat and still keep your waist thin. Cremations a good choice if you should expire, I'll admit that I do want to set you on fire.

In closing, I'll say that I really do love you. I just hope I don't have to say this from the ground above you. You inspired this silly rambling without even knowing as I watch you eat like a lawn mower mowing.
Slow down, swallow, is all I suggest. Bones aren't meant for you to ingest. Keep smiling, keep laughing and remember my words. If we can't trace your scent you'll be food for the birds.

When are you going back to college?

When are you going back to college? If one more person asks me that question again, I'm gonna gut them with my well concealed pocket machete. Long story short, girl goes to college, girl's dad kicks it, girl goes back to school but stops doing school work. School suggests that girl take a semester off, girl's mom agrees and honestly girl wants to as well. Girl never returns. College was just sad and depressing at first. I was scared and lonely, shy and unsure of myself and above all I was unprepared.

I have loved Opera since I was fourteen years old. I was a total dork in high school so unlike all of the kids that were meeting up with friends on saturday nights and having sleepovers I was at home channel surfing while my dad gave my mom foot a massage. As usual, nothing was on until I stumbled upon a Metropolitan Opera broadcast "Die Entfuhrung aus dem Serail" and I was entranced. I didn't know what in hell I was listening to but it was glorious and I was in love. I decided soon after that I was meant to sing Opera and was blessed with a father that always went out of his way to make sure I had the chance to at least try the things I was interested in. He found a student at a local University to give me lessons on saturdays and until I went to college, Opera was my life.

My folks would buy me tickets to the Opera and though no one ever wanted to go with me I loved every performance. Though there was always a nagging in the back of my mind that I would never be good enough to end up on the stage still I dreamt. I was pretty good too, I won first place for DC in the NAACP ACT-SO competition, well the regionals at least. I also studied at a National Opera Houses young artist program. The one thing that little stupid didn't do is study her Music Theory and Piano skills. Man, when I went to college I thought that I was going to blow those people away with my voice. That's when I was stunned into the reality that I was in way over my head . These guys had been studying the Piano and Music Theory since they were little and had been performing in programs and shows for years. The most I had done outside of my little aforementioned triumphs was sing in church for my Dad at his Anniversary's.

Music Theory is an evil, one eyed, vindictive bitch that takes no prisoners. I'm talking too much so just let me say that I failed that class three times before I left. I was pretty good at Piano but without Theory I was nothing. I thought that I had a great voice but without the protective cocoon of my family and friends giving me support and confidence I really sucked. I got cotton mouth whenever I sang and never tried out for anything. The only place I flourished was in my voice lessons. Those were my sanctuary and the only place that I was truly happy. The final straw came when, after my Theory final, my teacher told me that I should consider a career outside of singing because my theory was terrible. I understand helpful criticism but telling me that broke my heart. She was telling me that although I have a fantastic voice that with training would only grow stronger and that I must stop singing because I can't grasp a subject that won't really serve me once I leave college. Theory is incredibly important don't get me wrong but not being good at it is no reason to throw away your dreams. After that and being told to take a break I decided to leave and stay gone and it was the stupidest decision of my life.

Opera makes me feel a joy in my heart that I have never experienced doing anything else. I am now a makeup artist and though I do enjoy making people look and feel their best, I don't want to do this forever. I'd be just as happy making only myself look and feel good. I regret not getting my degree every day of my life especially when I think about where I could be right now had I just gone ahead and stuck it out. That's why I hate it whenever anyone asks me when I'm going back. What do they really want me to say? "Tomorrow, i'll go tomorrow", you have just given me the push that I need to get this done. Geez, I don't know what I'm gonna do or when I'm gonna do it, I know that time is a ticking and that I may very well blow it by not going soon but you asking only pisses me off and embarrasses me. I know what I have to do and when I'm ready to do it damnit, I will. You hear that Sis....

Is it ok to hit an Old Lady?

I know the answer to this question already, No. I tell you though, the devil is everywhere and I believe I met his evil ass today in church. I have recently decided to start going back to church after about a six year hiatus. Since my Dad died I just haven't had the heart to go to church. I know that doesn't give me any right to turn my back on fellowship with the Lord but hey, i'm a heathen. Well last week I went to a church close to my home and it was alright even though they gave a twenty minute lecture on tithing and actually told us that offerings of anything less than ten dollars wasn't enough. That's nothing though compared to a church I attended once where the pastor said that one dime of each dollar we give goes to the Lord, the implication being that the other ninety cent's goes to him, huh.

Anyway....I decided to go back to last weeks church since I was running late and was seated by a very nice usher. She seated me next to an older lady that resembled a head off of a Totem Pole. To each his own but she actually had her hair plaited and sticking out in every direction like she'd been shocked. Made me laugh...

Well, she had her keys in the seat that I was given to sit in and she just stared at the usher and I like we were asking her to give up her seat. I just wanted to take her keys seat. She finally took the keys and threw them on the ground in front of her (I didn't see her do this, I thought she held on to them). So a few minutes later I see these keys on the ground and they look identical to mine so I pick them up thinking I dropped them. That is when she slaps my hand and says "Since you took my seat, the keys stay on the ground". I thought she was joking but realized they were not mine and apologized. Next, she jabs me in the side with her bony little elbow and asks me if i'm asleep during the sermon since my head is down. I have locs that cover my eyes but the fact that my fingers were scanning a bible verse should have tipped her off that I was reading. I told her I was reading and she told me that I need to stop reading and pay attention to the minister. It went on like this for about an hour before she bolted out of there after asking me if I was saved.

I am a tactful person so I would never try to be overtly rude and I know when to just let stuff go but I can't decide whether or not I feel like a punk for letting someone talk to me like that or if I was just following my parents advice and just letting her be miserable. I would like to pretend that I'm just a good, respectful person but no...I feel like a punk. I wanted to tell her to back the hell off or just get up and move to another seat. My sister told me it was just the devil trying to distract me from the Pastor's Message. I don't know but it just made me feel crummy. Why are people like that, especially in church. I'm not used to being treated like that in church. My Dad was my Pastor and I was used to being babied so maybe I need to just grow a backbone and shut up. I gotta say though, if I see her in the street, It's on!

Well, I'm about two weeks too late but...

Happy Fathers Day Daddy!

I'm am the single crappiest daughter on the face of the Earth. I didn't do anything for Fathers Day this year. I didn't visit my Dad, I didn't go to church or say anything to my Mom about him. I just went on like it was any other day. I used to visit him every week after church when he first died but then I quit going to church and eventually my visit's ended too. Going to church and not seeing him in the Pulpit preaching was just too much for me and I didn't feel like I was with my church family anymore and a friend of mine told me that my visits to him were morbid and wouldn't bring him back. I shouldn't have listened to my friend because that is my Daddy and I'll damn well do as I please if it makes me feel better.

I just recently started church hopping and it feels so weird. I was a member of my Dad's church my whole life and I'm used to a certain type of service and I can't help but be bothered by certain things now. The church I went to last sunday was really nice until they got to the offering. My Dad never hassled people for donations by telling them how much they should give or lecturing them for not giving enough and this church went on for a good ten minutes about how much we should tithe, and how offering had to start at ten dollars. I was just really uncomfortable with that. I think that I am looking for things to dislike about churches as well because I just want to go to my dad's church and since he isn't here I'd just rather not go. We'll see...

Back to Dad. He was everything that I hope to be someday and am proud to say that I am alot like him. I once saw him actually give the coat off his back to a young man walking to school one cold fall morning. He was very shy but he knew how to suck it up when he needed to and get down to business. He hated to fight and whenever he had to he would look miserable afterwards and need to be alone for a few minutes. In my entire life we only got to go on one vacation when I was nineteen because he was always afraid to leave the church. We went to Disney World and had a great time just hanging out. He passed away three months later and he told me that it was the best week of his life. I miss him a lot but I don't have any regrets, I just get sad sometimes. I had the best possible sendoff with him, my sisters didn't get that and I think that's why they are still so torn up about it at times. The day before he left he told me that I was his best friend. The day he passed, he took me back to college and when I got out of the car I told him that I love him, gave him a big hug and said that I would see him next week. Well, I didn't see him but I know that I will so i'll be patient.

P.S. Thanks for sneaking me all of those candy bars dad.

Puff, Puff, Pass

Quick question, Why would a person start smoking? I just don't understand it. There is absolutely no incentive there. My sister is trying to stop smoking for the five hundred and sixty second time.

Her situation is not the same as most of the young people that I know. People always say that they became smokers because they wanted to appear cool around their friends and thought that they would not become addicted and one pack later they were hooked.

My sister on the other hand was born with a fatty in her fist. In her defense, my entire family smokes with the exception of my parents. Our Grandparents were chain smokers that lived right next door and I remember my sister and I stealing their butts and smoking them or taking drags off of their lit cigarettes when they left the room and apparently my sister never stopped. So now here she sits babbling, cussing and acting a fool. She has the nicotine gum but she claims it makes her tongue numb so she won't chew it. I don't know....you should see her, it's hilarious. I never really respected how strong the addiction to cigarettes is but after seeing this I get it.

I just felt like typing..

My Sister....whom I love....I think..

I wish that Dr. Jekyll would just would just kill the Ms. Hyde inside of my sister before I have to kill them both. I'm not perfect by any stretch of the imagination though I like to pretend I am. As a matter of fact I am usually the reason for most of our fights because I am a brat, I was the baby of the family and as such there were certain privileges that I came to expect. I was always able to get away with talking back to my parents without getting in trouble, a rare feat in our household. I like to think though that I was a pretty level headed kid and that aside from that I was a pleasure to raise. I never threw tantrums, I wasn't blatantly disrespectful and I wasn't one of those violent little spit and kickers that you see on Nanny 911 crying because it's bedtime. Now don't get me wrong, I was scared shitless about going to bed every night but that was only because we lived in a 100 year old house in the back of the woods and I shared a room with a sister who claimed that she turned into a vampire at night and that she was going to kill me some day.

Now, back to Ms. Hyde. I love my sister with all of my heart, that's probably why our situation is so frustrating. Long story short, she was my best buddy until the evil one came into her life at sixteen, demolished whatever self awareness she had, knocked her up, introduced her to the pleasures of being an occasional bitch and helped her unleash her inner megabeast. Since then my sis and I have a relationship that is balanced on the blade of a knife and i'm scared that one day i'm gonna stab her with it. Whenever she needs to confide in someone, I am the first person she runs to and the next day when she's off doing the same crap that she was just rebuking and I have the audacity to call her on it, I am a fat bitch(she knows which buttons to push).

We both have mouths that would make Captain Kidd blush. I won't lie, when I fight with her I try to remain calm but all it takes is her raising her voice or telling me to respect her just because she's a few years older and I can blow up, logic be damned and I'm calling everything but a sister. She can go at it toe to toe though so don't feel bad for her. The thing that kills me though is that ten minutes later we are best friends again. Going through this for so many years has left me with all kinds of nervous habits that I need to overcome. I clean all the time because I need something to control and I am never without my IPOD so that I can block her out if i'm in no mood to talk to her. I am at an age though where cussing and yelling is just pathetic and I can't run around with a ball in my stomach anymore worrying about when our next fight might occur. Just last night we hung out and had a blast, we talked about all the mistakes we've made in life and promised to be better sisters and now this morning she's walking around cussing and snarling, in her defense she is just an evil ass in the morning but that is just a behavior that she has been allowed to get away with, it's played out now though and she needs to get a new trick.

Long story short, too late I know..I won't talk about all of the crap I need to fix about myself because this is my blog and if you wanna trash talk me sis, get your own blog. Get it together, choose one personality and stick with it. We all have bad days and need to lash out but not all day long. You only do that shit with me and that's why it must end.

Don't be singing no happy birthday to me.

Well, I am happy to say that I made it through another year, but I officially feel old. I know that is a ridiculous comment to make at my age but I do. I know it is because I am not where I thought I would be at this point in my life. I thought that I would be living in another state, with an established career and more self awareness than I have right now. If I were where I wanted to be I would celebrate today like any other day but I feel like i'm just starting off in life and by the time I do get it together i'll be 37 and then i'll really feel old.

I'm so superficial. That was a stupid paragraph to type but i'm not gonna delete it because hopefully sometime soon I will look at it and laugh.

My mom told me that when I was four I was a shy little girl and that I didn't like it when I was the center of attention (something that I still don't like). When my birthday would roll around I would enjoy the entire day until it was time to eat the cake. Whenever She my Dad and Sisters would sing Happy Birthday I would turn beet red because they were all staring at me. I would then turn around stomp out of the Kitchen and go sit on the steps yelling "Don't be singing no happy birthday to me". I don't do that anymore even though I want to for different reason.

I guess i'll shut up though because even though I don't like getting older I do like being alive and I hope to see this day next year.

And then there was one...

Well, this just blew my day. I remeber being introduced to the Golden Girls when I was five years old and falling in love. My sister would sit on the floor in the living room and watch them as we shared a pomegranate. I didn't know then why I loved this show so much, I just liked the old ladies that reminded me of my Grandma. I truly understood the genius of this show when I was a teenager. Brilliant writing and Fantastic acting, two things that are sorely missed in sitcom television these days. I own every season of this show and can probably recite all of the lines to every episode.

Today we lost Rue Mcclanahan and Blanch Devereaux and all I can say is "I love you Betty".

Honey Do...

I have an absolutely atrocious memory so I'm just gonna jot down a few things that i'd like to talk about and maybe i'll slowly get to them.

• Why I am in a world of trouble for being a weakling and a liar.
• Why being a weakling and a liar can really hurt those that you love.
• Why I sometimes feel like not being where I wish I were in life makes me feel like a sinner.
• Why my sister thinks i'm going to burn in hell.
• Why my sister has no right to judge me when she's about as pious as Lil Kim.
• Why I can't sleep at night anymore when my car isn't in front of the house.
• Why it sometimes makes me feel like i'm being fondled when my sisters or mother try to have a heart to heart with me or I with them.

Cool, that's it for now. I'll add more if it comes to me.

Pop Rocks...

Ughh....I don't know what that title means but that is what I feel like I have in my head right now. By the way, Happy Memorial Day...anyway, back to me. Just when I thought I had my life somehow on track it starts to wander. My recipe for brownies is awesome, it goes a little something like this....damn, see what I mean?

I remember when I was twenty one, someone asked me why people felt like they needed to find themselves. I gave the dumbest answer for several reasons. One, because I was a twenty one year old dumbass who that thought she knew everything and also because I think I was trying to empress that person with my maturity and levelheadedness. I think my immaturity was the only thing I exhibited that day. I'm screwed on so many levels for that second reason but that's for another day. I answered if I remember correctly that I think everyone already knows who they are and that people are just being pretentious, dramatic and phony if they say they need to "find" themselves. I mean, what does that mean? You need to find yourself, where are you, you're right here. I didn't understand it then but boy I get it now.

I am able to admit now that I wasn't very wise at twenty one, not even very smart. I am nothing like the person that I was five years ago. I am still a spineless little baby, that can only speak up for herself under and incredible amount of pressure. I still think that I know everything but I am now willing to admit when I am wrong, if only to myself. I can't really explain it but all I can say is that if were to actually have done all of the idiotic things that I had claimed I didn't need time to wait to do five years ago, i'd be seriously screwed right now. I remember saying that I didn't need to wait until I was thirty to think about marriage because I know who I am and what I want and why should I wait. Only a weak person would wait for that....can you believe that shit.

Well, God bless carrot sticks that I never got married and had babies because that isn't what I wanted and only now am I able to admit it to myself without feeling like some sort of Godless monster, that's also another story for another day.

I am still a complete wreck of a person that has spine that is constantly collapsing and a guilt complex the size of texas and a constant knot in her stomach that only allow for about two meals a day. I am a good being though. I like this writing thing, I should do it more often, I might get better at it.

P.S. I should stop using I so much in my posts. It's about me but goodness....just realised that.

Peach Pie and why I am a Master BS Artist.

Ok, I'm screwed. I have lived with the belief that I hate Pie since I was a small child. Who would want to eat jelled, gooey fruit encased in a salty crust. I love Chicken pot pie but that is a savory dish so it's understandable. To this day I can't tell you what apple pie or cherry pie taste like because the thought of eating them makes me sick to my stomach. Cinnamon covered, piping hot, limp apples does not sound appetizing at all.

I remember when I was seven and my family had moved from West Virginia to Maryland. A very nice lady from our new church took my older sister and I to a Carnival. We had so much fun, the Ferris Wheel and the Stuffed Animals. The Cotton Candy and the Pop Corn. I had never been to a Carnival before so I had the time of my life. Given my current track record with good times, I should have known that some tired shit was about to happen.

After the Carnival this nice lady took us to her house to have some dessert. I was ready for a nice thick slice of Chocolate Cake with a big dollop of Cool Whip or Cherry Jello. Do you know what this woman did. Here I sit awaiting my Chocolate when instead of Cake she slides a hot, bubbling bowl of Blackberry Cobbler under my nose. I have never in my life gone so quickly from a feeling of sheer happiness to complete horror in my life.

I was brought up in a household where my mother, every night as we all ate dinner would tell me " don't stuff yourself, If you don't want it don't eat it". Unfortunately, I was and am a rather timid person. How could I tell this nice lady that had entertained me all day that I didn't want to eat the cobbler that she had prepared for my sister and I. I can still smell that cobbler, sour and nauseating. The juices were almost black but left a purple residue on the sides of my bowl and the crust was still white and gooey.

That was the exact moment that I became a pretty great conversationalist. I lifted that fork to my mouth a hundred times and as soon as she would make a statement I would immediately drop it and ask her all about her flour garden, her children in college, her devotion to the lord. This must have gone on for an hour as my sister who has no problem with pie (or any other food as a matter of fact) giggled under her breath and kicked me under the table. I can't believe that she really thought I was interested but it worked and I never tasted that black disaster.

Anyway....This past Mother's day, I decided that I would make my mom a peach pie. I have never baked a pie in my life and especially never from scratch but I figured that homemade was the only way to go. After I removed it from the oven I couldn't help but appreciate the beauty of my creation and decided that I would take a little bite just to see if it tasted as bad as I had always imagined. Well, maybe it was the bourbon, maybe it was the holiday but I'll be damned if it wasn't delicious. I ate two pieces that night with a big scoop of Ice Cream. Everyone loved it so I decided to make another one yesterday. Maybe it was the memory of my Mother's day pie or maybe it was the adrenaline rush that I get when people compliment my cooking but this one was even better.

Damn...All these years. This is the last thing that I need. I am trying to diet and be healthy so the last thing that I need is another confection obsession. You see, I have a sweet tooth so strong that it's about to fall out and I can't afford to like pie now.

My freezer is already full of fudge pops, my cabinet full of Little Debbie that little twit. I'm just not gonna make them any more. Damn...Well atleast I learned how to hold a proper conversation because of this...

Six more years and I'll be perfect.

I don't know, I think that I have it together and then....I don't know. I have been trying to live a healthier lifestyle for about six years now with great success. I exercise five days a week and I eat a very healthful diet. It amazes me how much a person can change during the course of a six year journey and I am proud of how far i've come.

I started off with the goal of eating normal meals but without the snacking in between. This worked for a while but I quickly learned that depriving myself of the things that I love was a sure way of ended up curled into a ball in my bedroom clutching a chocolate cake. I wondered why I wasn't seeing the results I wanted when I was working my ass of and after six years I finally figured it out.

I eat too damn much. I recently bought a food scale and cannot believe how much more than the serving size that I have been eating. I feel like a damn fool, all these years I thought that maybe I had a metabolic problem or wasn't working out properly and come to find out that I am just a bit to heavy handed with the serving spoon. I'm more pissed about the fact that it took me all these years to figure this simple thing out than the fact that I could have reached my fitness goals a long time ago if I had only known to buy a scale earlier.

Friggin Scale. Ain't it crummy though to know that even too much super healthy food can make you fat. It's not like i'm sittin around eating ice cream all day.

My major problem though is that I have a sweet tooth so strong that it is almost rotten. More on how I keep working out for an hour and a half and then go into a blind frenzy and eat something ridiculous and ruin it all later.

Holdin on to Shit.

"If you can't remember it you don't need it, just let your mind be junky and you room clean".

My sister is sitting in the floor of her bedroom with a painters mask on mumbling to herself about all of the shit she's holding on to. There is a bag full of business cards, old report cards, and dirty pieces of paper that she is finally getting rid of. She is in the background saying "I'm happy I can be your little pitiful ass muse". That is what she is tonight.

We go through this every couple of weeks. I swear that it coincides with her Crimson Tide. She is 31 years old and feels like a complete failure at life so now I have to watch her throw away a bunch of stuff that she doesn't need but not before she looks at every single ticket stub, candy wrapper and balled up tissue. I don't know what to say. I don't understand how not being where you want to be in life ends in someone throwing away all of their things but she does this alot. I guess it's something to do to keeping yourself busy.

Some people just don't see their own worth or their own potential. Sometimes I wish that she would shut up and cut this Francis Farmer shit out. I never believed it until recently but healthy people really can drive themselves crazy and she is doing it. She isn't happily employed, even though she has a beauty license and is a very talented musician. Even though she is a kind and giving person with a sharp mind and a lot to say. She isn't married so she's a loser. She's as nutty as a squirrel turd but she will be ok. I have to go because I hear the sound of someone's mind snapping..

I want my Ba Ba!!!

Last Night, as I prepared my dinner with tears streaming down my face I realized a few things. First off, I noticed how hard it is to chop vegetables with a sharp knife when you can't see for the tears running down your face. I also noticed how hard it is to keep quiet when crying so that no one will hear you but your hands are covered in onion juice so you just cry harder..

My Father passed away seven years ago when I was 19. I have noticed since then that the things that I would once have brushed off and gotten over have now become mini dramas in my life. I have become so anxious over the last seven years and it amazes me that it took me so long to realize why.

My niece lost my car keys last night. Big deal huh, I have another set. Just go and get a copy made and get over it. Let's just say that I didn't get over it. Though I am proud that I didn't yell at her because it was just an accident, I can't believe that something like that ended in me crying over my fruit salad. A few years ago I would have been pissed but I would have been ok. Today all I can do is worry that I might lose the set I have and then have no, keys. What if my car alarm goes off and I can't turn the damn thing off because I have no panic button now. What if someone finds the keys and steals my car? What if?????? I can't believe that I have become this person.

To be fair, I was used to being taken care of when my dad was alive and afterwards everything just went crazy. My sister has/had the boyfriend from hell who after my dad passed went out of his way to make our lives quite unbearable for about three or four years but that's another story for another day and I will tell it. That shit has probably made me more anxious than anything and now I feel like I am just always waiting for the next pile of crap to fall into my lap. It never seems to end, stupid pointless shit that you can't learn a lesson from. Like God is just doing stuff to keep me busy. Why does my house have to be broken into, why do my tires have to be slashed, why does my sister love an asshole? I'm getting ahead of myself.

Back to the fruit salad. I don't want anyone to think i'm a wreck from a terrible family. Actually I come from a typical loving family that goes through shit like every family. We are like the onion family, there are many layers. Fortunately the good times usually outweigh the bad times. I feel though, like I am always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I turn everything into a mini drama in my mind but I feel so stupid for feeling this way that I have to keep it to myself and it just festers. I feel like I don't have anyone to talk to because opening up to my family makes me feel like i'm being felt up. You know what I mean....

When he first died I tried so hard to make everyone think I was ok that I think I may have really believed it and now the true feeling are making themselves known in the oddest ways. I buy his favorite foods sometimes even though I hate them. I talk to him when i'm alone. I cry over missing keys. I guess that is why I have this blog. Even if no one reads it, I feel good being able to communicate it to someone. I gotta relax. I feel though like I am coming out on the other end of the tunnel....Ps. I want my keys back though dammit.

No one I know reads this so I guess it's safe.

I'm 26 years old. That's not old I know, but when you are still in search of your destiny if that doesn't sound to corny, believe me it feels old. I have a problem with sharing my goals, hopes and dreams with the people that I know because I feel that they will think that i'm silly or that I am wasting my time.

I am sure that there are many people out there that feel like they have to stifle their dreams for fear of being unfairly judged. I know myself and I will be really pissed looking back over my life with only myself to blame for the stupid choices that I made or didn't make. Let's just say that I come from a world where I was told that all I had to do was prepare myself and I could do whatever I wanted, so I don't know where this fear of others opinions comes from. I am starting to see that my shyness and over analysis of myself might be covering up some self absorbed tendencies.

I'm gonna work on being a stronger more confident person. I'm realizing that the people around me have dreams too and they are going after them. I am not getting any younger so no more excuses..

Ms, Kookyi's Book Club.

I love Ms. Kookyi. I wish that she had been my bus driver in Elementary School. It's a very important job getting these little monsters from point A to point B in one piece, and they don't make it very easy with all of the yelling and jumping around. It's amazing how happy and well behaved a child will be if you give them a challenge and let them know that you expect something good out of them. I'm just amazed.

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Plus, that's one hell of a way to shut them up. My driver just gave us benadryl.

Breanna! Watch it! Damn..

Quite Frankly, I talk too much. I usually think that I am right all the time and I cut people off when they are speaking. I'm also cripplingly shy. A shy bigmouth doesn't sound very effective in a conversation I know so I figured blogging would be an easier way to communicate my feelings for the time being while building my confidence in expressing myself.

I have wanted to blog for a while and the sound of my sister and her daughter yelling at each other like they are the same age about what one should wear to walk to dog has finally pushed me over the edge. I want to tell them to shut the hell up and walk the dog but surprisingly enough, the kid might start in on me so I will just say to them, Shut the hell up and walk to damn dog...

That dog is wild though so wear something old.