Monthly Archives: April 2016

How to Not Be a Weirdo

Why are people so weird?

Like for realz.

Sometimes I just want to set y’alls weird asses free.

And to be honest, I’m an introvert so I totally get awkwardness. Awkwardness is when you don’t know how to get your shit together in time to be normal around other people. Someone catches you off guard and you’re like, “holy shit…let me hurry up and act like I’m a fucking human being.” I get it. Trust me, I do.

But it seems like some people don’t know how to function to the point where you want to just throw them off a fucking cliff. And I find that I experience this wayyyy more than I should. (I’ll get into that later, I promise.)

Like I’ll pass someone in the hallway at work and they’ll go through five different facial expressions before finally regurgitating a “hello” from the pits of their bowels.



I promise you… if you’re guilty of this, it’s because you’re thinking too hard.

Confidence is the key. And I say this because – like I said – I’ve been there before. I used to have to practice interacting with people in the mirror. I thought I was the weirdest person in the world. And I probably was. But the thing is, you have to get past what you THINK you look like/what you THINK other people are thinking and just deal with the reality of what’s actually happening.

For example: I wish these awkward ass people could know how tired I am. I wish they could know that when I go into the office kitchen to grab a snack, I’m singing a Prince song that’s been on rotation in my head all day and I’m probably also thinking about my best friend forever… food.

In other words, the odds of me thinking about you are slim to none. But I still have to be hit with this fucking face…

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…as soon as I open my mouth to say “excuse me you’re blocking the water cooler.”

And then there are the people who do the I’m smiling so I don’t get fined face. You know, one of these…

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And I be wanting to tell these people not to even fucking bother. My boss is good at this one. She will hit you with that creepy ass, manic smile fifty feet before she approaches you to talk. So that means I have to look at her shitty-ass, pseudo grin for at least ten “Mississippi” seconds before I’m hit with a “good morning.”

How is that fair to me? I’m not the one that doesn’t know how to register a normal resting face while in the presence of other humans. So why should I be coerced into what someone else perceives to be an awkward situation. It’s not like we’re going to serenade each other. We’re not going in for a kiss. I don’t feel weird. Why are you trying to make this weird?!

The people who are desperate to make every situation awkward are the more harmless breed, though. You’ll come up to them and they’ll give you a conspiratorial ‘aren’t we both feeling awkward‘ face. These types, you just ignore and then eventually they’ll realize that you ain’t thinking bout them and they’ll practically fade into thin air.

The worst kind, however, are the ‘it’s not me, it’s YOU‘ weirdos. They’re the type to look at YOU like YOU’RE straight up bonkers, thereby sucking you into their vortex of weirdness. I used to fall victim to these people all the time.

You’ll hit’em with . . .

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And here they go . . .


An interaction with this type will send you running to the bathroom to check your nose for boogers or to make sure you’re zipper isn’t down. And these types are persistent. It took me years to figure out that I wasn’t the crazy person in these interactions. And as a recovering weirdo, I still have moments where I question my sanity.

But usually, I realize that unless I’ve done something extreme – walking around naked, murdering someone, etc. – I’m probably fine and the person who’s looking at me like I’m crazy for acknowledging them is living within their own personal hell.

So why do I seem to run into these people a lot? My theory is it’s because I’m Black and a woman. People tend to expect us to be loud, crazy and funny. And that’s not my steelo. I can be funny and loud at times, but not in a professional setting. I’m just not that chick.

And I can feel the disappointment when White coworkers interact with me. I’m very friendly so they think I’m going to be their ‘homegirl.’ And I’m not. (That’s actually this Black chick named Rhonda that works down the hall.) And because I’m confident but not walking around grinning like a got-damn fool, it makes other people dive deep into their feelings and they always come back up for air with the idea that I’m judging them. And I’m not. I’m thinking about food.

So get it together weirdos. It’s okay to say, “hi” and “bye” without turning the situation into a skit from Saturday Night Live.

That’s all I got!

Have a good weekend!

(…and don’t be scared to comment below!)


Bitch-ass Coworkers

So my thing is this…

How come there are people at my job that NEVERRRRRRR speak to me… I mean, nary a word. Barely even a “hello.” But as SOON as I do something wrong, here they go…


…wit dey bitch asses!



Goodbye Sweet Prince. You have meant so much to me and to so many others. The world is forever changed because you have been in it. You will live on forever in our hearts, minds and speakers as we blast your inspired music in the weeks, months, years, centuries to come. We love you! Thank you for sharing yourself with us.

Prince is gone.

And after Michael, after Whitney… I didn’t know I could feel this kind of pain again.

I did not see this coming.

I am devastated.

I want to go home and crawl into bed and give up on this day.

I want to listen to Prince with my husband and I want everyone else to be quiet.

We all know that’s not gonna happen so . . .

The picture up top is one of the FIRST pictures I remember, not just of Prince, but in life. As a toddler I would stare at this picture (it was on my  mom’s Purple Rain cassette tape case) for hours because I couldn’t take my eyes off of this beautiful man, his purple outfit, all of the smoke and that cold-ass motorcycle.

And when you’re young and grow up with someone’s music and pictures everywhere, you begin to see that person as family.

I feel like I’ve lost an Uncle.

This is truly one of the saddest days of my life.

That’s all I got.


Harriet on the $20

“Every great dream begins with a dreamer.” – Harriet Tubman


All I can say is I’m happy I won’t have to see Andrew Jackson’s uglass on the $20 bill no more. We will finally have a woman gracing our currency! Yippee! And what better woman than Harriet “I’mma shoot ya if you even THINK about turning around and going back to slavery” Tubman?

She was a real G.

And she deserves soooo much more than this. So much more.

But dis all we got. And with a legacy as great as hers, it’s long overdue.

Also, Alexander Hamilton’s sexy ass gets to stay on the $10 bill so bravo for that. And don’t act like that man’s picture ain’t sexy either.


The Suite Life of Working Fo’ Yo Self

I remember one day when I worked in retail selling eyeglasses, one of my coworkers was clocking in and I asked him how he was doing. I didn’t expect anything out of the norm but he stopped and turned toward me. Looked me dead in the eye and said this…

“I just finished sitting in my car for twenty minutes. I stared at this building and asked myself, ‘do I reeeally want to do this? Today?'”

This man’s words from three years ago still resonate with me because I think everyone who’s ever had a job has asked themselves this question at some point.

And with the title of my blog, I think it’s clear that I ask myself this question every single day.

This year, however, I will finally have a chance to actually work toward my dream of entrepreneurship. I’ve graduated with a masters in entertainment from a prestigious institution that has given me a ton of connections. My husband is working and will be able to support us soon. I don’t have any children. And there’s really no time like the present.

My goal is to start my own production company – producing my first feature film OR TV show (whichever comes first) – while branding myself through my writing and videos. I’m currently gathering projects and seeking talent in order to work toward these things.

Not sure if this will work but crazier things have happened and I refuse… REFUSE to waste another year of my life helping someone else to live their dream. And that’s basically what every corporate job is.

It’s just not an option for me anymore.

Every day is filled with research and preparation for this move. And while I’m sure it will be filled with many failures and mistakes, it’s going to be successful.

…and I’m excited.


Mom Stuff

I really gotta start writing about lighter subject matter like TV shows or something because my life is really not bad I swear it isn’t. But if I’m keeping it real, this is what’s on my heart today so you’re going to have to just deal.

So here’s the thing. Me and my mom aren’t exactly on speaking terms right now. And we used to be close as hell. We used to talk every day. The whole nine. We still communicate because she’ll occasionally send me a text message to make sure I’m okay but phone calls are just not something we do anymore. I’ve been getting signs that I should just give her a call but I really really don’t want to.

The last time we actually spoke to each other was four months ago. Why did we stop speaking? Because of some dumb shit that runs deeper than it should and because my mom told me not to talk to her until I get therapy. Which she’s right, I should totally get therapy but I honestly think everybody in the world should get some kind of therapy so…

But here’s why she thinks I should get therapy…

My mom’s house is always a mess and she’s low-key becoming a hoarder. She has stacks and stacks of stuff just sitting in garbage bags in the corners of her living room. Tons of broken furniture that’s taped up, glued together, stacked on top of each other. Covered with clothes that people have given her that “just need to be washed” and old stereos that “just need to be fixed.” She has more shit than what makes sense for her (as a fifty-something single woman who lives alone in a one bedroom efficiency) to have. And she can’t ever find anything.

And this is irksome to me. Most irksome, however, is her kitchen. See, growing up, I was the dish-washer in the family. For some odd reason, that chore always fell on me. And we seemed to have an endless amount of dishes. So if a fork or bowl or plate was dirty, everyone just grabbed another fork or bowl or plate until they successfully used up all 6,579,237 dishes in the household and I would have to spend what felt like an eternity washing each and every single one. It took hours and the kitchen was always soaking wet and I could never fit all of the dishes back into the cabinets so they took over the counters and every surface in the kitchen.

It was a nightmare and to this day, I try to make sure that my house only has 4 of everything – forks, spoons, knives, bowls, plates. Any need for more and I’m getting paper plates. So I have a personal vendetta against messy kitchens.

My mom’s current kitchen situation is atrocious because she has a million dishes and doesn’t wrap her food up after cooking. She just sticks everything in the refrigerator as is. And it sits for weeks, sometimes months. And my mom is physically handicapped and overweight after years of eating unhealthy food so she could really use a complete overhaul on what’s in her refrigerator as well as her cooking habits.

Every single time I visit my mom I try to convince her to get rid of some of her junk and to eat better. And if anyone’s ever seen the TV show Hoarders (or it’s cousin, Intervention), they will know what I’ve been up against. Hoarders are sensitive as hell about their possessions. They take everything personally as if by your saying “maybe you should get rid of some of this stuff” you’re really saying, “I hate you as a person and want you to die alone and be lowered slowly into the fiery pits of hell.”

And these thoughts could not be further from the truth. If anything, when you’re watching the person you love move large bags of “goodies” (trash) around so that you can have a seat in their home or you’re seeing that their refrigerator is full of unhealthy, badly covered food, you’re thinking to yourself I want this person to live a better life.

And so the frustration on my end was trying to help my mom and being met with insults against my character. I mean low blows. My mom was bringing up stuff about me that made me want to crawl into a hole and die. She was saying shit that I didn’t know whether to believe or not. Like, “everybody thinks you’re awful” and “maybe this is why you have a hard time making friends at work.” I had to do some quick soul searching with the devastating ammunition she was hurling at me. In return, I wasn’t always tactful in my approach to trying to clean her house and that was where I went wrong. So we were both wrong. But at the end of the day, when you want to help someone with something as impersonal as washing dishes or donating excess stuff and they retort by calling you an unlovable pariah it starts to wear on your spirit.

Also, my mom was never this person. Although she was always firm with me, she was also always very kind and supportive, so these insults were new to me.

So with my last visit, I felt like shit. I was convinced that I’d officially joined the ranks of the people my mother dislikes most in the world. And when she told me not to speak to her, I figured that the best thing I could do was honor her wishes.

But, you see, I don’t think those are her wishes.

She’s been texting lately to ask me what TV shows I’ve been watching or to give me some updates on my sisters. I text back promptly, making my answers short and friendly. We’ve been going back and forth like this for a few weeks. It breaks my heart, though, because I want to just call her up and tell her everything that’s happening in my life but I kind of feel like something is broke inside of me.

Anyway, who wants cake?

Anyone want cake?