Lame & Lonely

How ridiculous is it to spend this life pretending not to feel anything? What is going on in the world? People are so cold and so broken. When I know that I know...I'm in love for good...I'm going to scream it from a mountain top. Nothing else makes any sense to me. Pride is a silent killer. Be real with each other, people. More importantly, be real with yourselves.

The Waiting Room (of Life)

"Wait here", they say. "Sit right here and patiently deny the reality that you have no idea who you are, what you want, where you'll go, and what will happen to you if this recession lasts for five more minutes."

They are our parents, our professors, our mentors, and our predecessors. They have no idea what they're talking about...but they give the best advice they can. Because deep down inside, they're mad about paying for and supporting an education that hasn't amounted to a hill-o-beans.

We're all just really, unnecessarily intelligent...and broke as hell. I know some of the most ambitious people on the planet (I'm sure of it). And almost 70% of them have jobs that they can't wait to escape as soon as things get better/improve/mull over/look up...or whatever clever phrase of optimism you'd like to insert. And it hurts to sit in this damn waiting room, with some of my best friends, talking about what we'll do when the struggle ends.

I remember when things were good, in the 90's. We were young, hopeful, and sure of ourselves. I used to talk about being 25 like it was going to be the age of abundance. I intended to have 2 Benz coupes, a Range Rover, and a boat by my mid-20's. These days, I'm just day dreaming about a bicycle or anything else that doesn't need $45 worth of gas every week.

We used to flip through the pages of Cosmo and whisper oooo's and aaaa's while staring at Louis Vuitton & Guess ads. We'd talk about the lovers we'd have once we could travel the world and the countries we'd see. We tip-toed around the house in heels we could barely walk in and chatted about the catwalks we'd sit around during fashion week.

Now, the only fashion week I enjoy takes place at Target during their summer sale. The heels I strut around in are 1.5 inches so that I can wear them EVERYWHERE. And the only pages I flip are the classifieds...(I'm exaggerating to make a point).

Everyone I talk to just says they are "waiting" to hear back about grad school/better jobs/new opportunities/the military. So, here we are, crowded in this little room. Our dreams, hopes, fears, prayers, frustrations, and doubts are all stacked like old luggage around our seats. We're waiting on everything...on God, on wealth, on tomorrow. And to be quite honest, I'm tired of it.

I'm waiting on an angel to come from heaven, into this waiting room, and call my name like a nurse in Urgent Care. And when she does, I'll jump up...eager to see the results of my patience...my endurance...and my optimism.

I know one thing though. If I have to sit here much longer, waiting on everything I've always wanted, I'm going to start slapping random strangers with this thick stack of resumes that I take every where with me. I may even blow the entire waiting room up...because I'm losing my mind.

And that's real.

20 Things a Real Man Won't Do

1) He won’t show up like a thief in the night, rob you of your love then disappear before the sun comes up
2) He won’t whisper sweet nothings in your ear because nothings don’t amount to anything. Everything he says will be something of substance
3) He won’t call you another woman’s name “by accident”
4) He won’t tell you that he is interested, then “forget” to text/call you for a few days
5) He won’t remind you that he can have anyone he wants…every single day
6) He won’t hit you…ever.
7) He won’t have Daddy’s Home by: Usher as a ring tone for his “home girl”
8) He won’t have a wife…and 2 kids…and a dog named Spike
9) He won’t invite you over at 11pm, then ask you to leave at 12:30am because he’s gotten what he wanted from you and doesn’t like sleepovers
10) He won’t make you question yourself, your body, and your intelligence by failing to reassure and encourage you
11) He won’t let you forget how beautiful you are
12) He won’t hurt you, intentionally…
13) He won’t make you abandon your friends and loved ones
14) He won’t live off of you and watch you work to feed him and the children you may have together, while he sits on the couch from 9-5 like a failure
15) He won’t constantly complain about life and everything he hasn’t accomplished and subsequently, bring you down into depression with him
16) He won’t think that seeing you cry is funny
17) He won’t lie to you like you’re a 9-year old naïve little girl, then get angry when you question him or attempt to speak up when you’re in pain
18) He won’t allow your insecurities to intensify because of neglect, nonchalance, and laziness
19) He won’t ask you to be his mistress while he “works on” leaving his wife/girlfriend
20) He won’t be typical. He won’t disgust you.

Slap me, Jesus. I'm Ungrateful and Ignorant.

"A 7-year-old Trenton girl was sold like a prostitute to a pack of perverts and gang raped by up to seven men and boys. And the person who pimped out the grade-schooler was her 15-year-old stepsister, cops said." Horrific, right? -WEEN

There are days when, like a child wading in a kiddie pool, I sit in shallow water convinced that I'm deep sea diving. I wake up each day at the same time, climb into the same shower, enjoy piping hot water from a Moen-designer spout, and sing to whatever hums from Pandora on my BlackBerry. I apply MAC shadow to sleepy lids, pick out the pumps of the day, and straighten my highlighted tresses with a zebra- patterned flat iron. And I sigh.

I groan because its only 7:30am. I moan because I have to drive 25 minutes to my office. I mumble expletives because I can't decide what I should have for breakfast. And I curse my life. Because I am ungrateful and ignorant.

In Trenton, a young girl was distributed for sex...stripped of her innocence and her womanhood before life had an opportunity to offer her anything at all. A baby, in a sense, sold by her own family member. She'll never sleep soundly at night again. She'll never trust a hug. She'll never believe that the dark can be therapeutic and serene. She'll never know what shallow is like...because the deepest corners of her soul burn from invasion.

I woke up today, convinced that my problems were monstrous. I was annoyed with my commute, agitated with my current beau, and afraid of an upcoming presentation this week. I was wrapped up (like I often am) in the land of NNL.

I never stopped to realize that I could've been raped in my home, robbed, beaten, or even killed last night. I never paused to thank God for waking up every member of my family and (as far as I know) everyone I love. I concentrated on my miniscule troubles instead of embracing the reality that nothing (not safety,not food, not shelter) is promised.

I've lived for 23-years, without ever being sexually harmed or threatened. I've never been brutally beaten or robbed. I've never even known the true existence of hunger. I am, and always will be, severely blessed. And I refuse to pout for one more minute! I had the most serious Aha! moment of my life, when I read about that 7-year old girl. I realized that I need a swift kick in the ass. I need for someone in heaven to come down here and slap me. Twice. I'm guilty of being an idiot. Blessed and bratty. But all that stops here.

And that's real.

When Keeping it Real Goes Wrong...

You all know me pretty well, by now. You know that I am Miss Relentless, full of clever diddies and chide remarks about everything and everyone that I cannot stand. I'm the real-ist of the real. I'm fearless. And I'm bold. At least that's what I want people to believe.

But there is something you don't know, something I've kept to myself...and that is the fact that I'm terrified of what might happen when I'm a little too real with the wrong person. I mean...I'm not anticipating being the victim of assassination just because my opinions ruffle feathers. And I don't expect for anyone to punch me in the throat while I'm shouting my wild ideas about freedom and personal expression to the masses.

But, I do think that if I say a little too much to certain people in my life...they may decide not to be in my life at all. And that's painful. I wish we could all just throw reality around like a football on a warm summer day. I wish the truth could just sail through the air and land gracefully like a well-piloted jet. But, life doesn't work that way. The popular slogan "Fake it until you make it" needs to be expanded. Seems like we will all have to "Fake it until (we) make it (in to heaven)" because reality is fading like a summer tan in November.

There's so much I would say if I knew that the truth wouldn't take my loved ones away. There is so much that I'd confess if I didn't think I'd be left love-less. But, instead, I let the truth build up inside me like indigestion. I toss and turn at night wondering when it'll be appropriate to say that powerful phrase [I love you] without anticipating tortured silence on the other end of the phone. I sit still at green lights sometimes, because my mind is so lost in the fairy tale of what my life would be like if I told everyone, everything.

But instead, Miss Relentlessly Real...is also Miss Shamefully Secretive. And the things I keep to myself are 1000x more valuable than the things I share with the world. Because I was taught that this is what strength looks like. We must keep our deepest, most powerful thoughts and beliefs tucked away so that no one will be offended. And we must love bashfully so that no one will get uncomfortable. And we should nonchalantly laugh when we'd rather sob because emotions are messy. And no facial expressions are necessary while having sex because affection is annoying.

I'm from the tribe of technology-birthed babies. Everybody in my generation "searches" instead of finds. We "chat" instead of converse. We press a "like" button rather than give compliments. So keeping it real is something that people stopped doing in the 90's. In 2010,if you like somebody...you just pretend you don't know they're alive until Auntie Patron or Uncle Jose Cuervo introduces you two and helps you become comfortable enough to "mingle".

I'm disgusted. What the hell happened to authenticity? When did keeping it real go so unfathomably wrong? Can't even fall in love these days...because we're all so full of the most potent shit. It's too hard to let the heart soften. It's too risky to open up, because someone might steal something.

I just wish I could be relentlessly real...and open and honest...all the time. But I'm afraid, that if I tried to do so, I'd spend the rest of my life by myself.

And that's real.

What's Love Got to Do With it?

I just can't help myself. Can't keep these words...thoughts...that are purposed to penetrate the minds of the ignorant to myself. Because I think the truth is terrifying and liberating in the same breath. I think that people want the truth, they search for and hunt the truth in order to be freed from the exhausting cycles of redundant bullshit in their lives. I think the truth is an antibiotic for my generation. Most of us, need a vaccine that might help us distinguish authenticity from the plastic idols that we worship. Everything is labeled "real"...and I'm starting not to trust the word because its connotation is being insulted. Reality TV makes me queasy. Processed food boxes that are proudly labeled when containing real ingredients (i.e. these cheese-curls contain real cheese!) are just ridiculous. And punk ass little rappers who claim to be "so real, so raw and so hood" make me want to go on a karate-chopping spree. I just can't take it anymore. So I have a point to make. A very important point. And it's about the way members of my generation "love" each other.

I'm convinced that love used to be about something. I can tell, from watching my parents and friends' grandparents, that love isn't supposed to be so flimsy and temporary. I know, in my heart, that there is an unbreakable connection between two people after they're intimate. I know that a woman who lays with someone she loves can, for the rest of her life, feel when that person is in pain or in trouble. No matter how much we disrespect, forget, and run from each other, we are incapable of ridding of each other spiritually. We walk around with bitterness stored in our hearts, depositing filth and brokenness into each other. We are careless and relentless...in the worst way. We're all lost, but some of us hide it better than others. We throw the word "love" around like a damn Frisbee hoping someone will catch it and throw it back to us. And for what? We don't know anything about what love is. Most of us don't deserve to use to word. It's blasphemous.

If people are going to continue to use each other, walk away from spouses and children, split assets, raise kids in tormentuous environments, abandon new borns, and abuse each other...then we should all just leave the L-word out of it. Because love doesn't have shit to do with the way we're operating in modern times. It's despicable. It's painful. But, most importantly, is animalistic.

Actually, I take that back. Animals are more charismatic, gentle, and charming than most of the people I'm talking about. Animals only kill to protect and to survive. They break bones. They don't break hearts. Bones can heal. Hearts can only mend but the repair is never 100% effective. Everything is never going to just be alright. Something is broken inside most of us. And two wounded people can't save each other. That's how I know love is rarely present among us. There's not enough love left to go around. For me, love is truth. Truth is love. And where there is no truth/no reality...love isn't present.

I'm not being relentlessly real for my health. I'm doing this so that I can be set free from my own limitations and fears. I'm dealing with the fact that I'm surrounded by so much fallacy, that I'll I have to trust...is me. I hope that I'll spend my life with someone who isn't allergic to the truth, someone who believes that real love isn't about egos, selfishness, and pride. When I vow to spend the rest of my days with someone, love will have EVERYTHING to do with it.

And that's real.

WHAT...are you looking at?

I love when people watch me live. It's enticing...in that "I wish I could shoot you without being imprisoned" kinda way. It's fulfilling...because, when people watch me live, I feel like I must be 1000x more interesting than anything else in their pathetic, tortured, popular opinion-driven lives.

And by "watch me live" I mean, stalk me or judge me while sitting in the bay windows of their pathetic cottage-like minds. I love when people make little gargling sounds when I walk by. Groans...like they're in agony because my smile is so abnormally sincere. I am consumed with glee when I'm in a restaurant, and I laugh 12 decibels louder than the appropriate indoor level, and some angry black lady wrinkles her ugly nose and frowns at me and whoever I'm laughing with. That's exciting. Why? Because my life is unusually fabulous and every person who life-stalks me by pessimistically watching every move I make, is just a part of a very important audience. I would be nothing without those who hate me. I would be bored...and insanely average...if I didn't have people who couldn't stand the idea of me being successful and fulfilled.

There are people, in and around my life, who try(try=pretend)to be happy for me and celebrate my accomplishments but instead, my progress seems to sit in their jealous stomachs like an inflamed tumor. They can't be happy for me because their lives are so mediocre, so pathetic that the sight of someone growing and prevailing is nauseating for them. So...even though I see them watching me/hating me...and I know they would assassinate me if there were no consequences...I'm still overwhelmed with appreciation. Because, if it weren't for them, I would have no idea how magnificently important I am.

So instead of growling, "WHAT...are you looking at?" when people life-stalk me...I'd like to accept the role as the most fascinating, beautiful person that they know. It's an honor. Really. I'm humbled by this opportunity ;-)

If Only You Knew...

Some of us waste our lives...obsessed with and infused by fear. Even our risks are calculated, thought out, and analyzed. People think we're edgy and rebellious. They admire the way we go against the grain, refusing to care what people think. Everyone knows that we'll do whatever we want to do, whenever we want to do it. We're untameable. We move with the wind and we refuse to commit to anything but life itself.

Yes indeed. We're so damn cool from surface-view. Everybody wants to be like us. But, there's only one problem. We hate ourselves.

The most rebellious people I know, including myself, are obsessed with order. We hunger for lives that mimic movies (fairy tales). We want a spouse who won't ever leave or cheat. We want low-risk jobs that overpay. We want houses with picket fences. We want our parents to live forever and be the ideal grandparents to our ideal children. We want it all...and somewhere along the way...we realized that having it all wasn't an option. And since most of us live with an "all or nothing" mentality...we give up on everything that we really want in order to avoid dying from the heartbreak that accompanies disappointment. We figure that if we don't expect much for ourselves, life will be easier and less eventful.

Each time we're hurt or let down, our standards lower. Instead of the fairy-tale marriages we once dreamt of, we start looking for lovers who can't cause pain...who aren't powerful enough to break our hearts. We start holding on to people who aren't worth our time...because they keep us comfortable. And when family/friends tell us that we can do better...we spit in their faces and defensively protect our little, raggedy ass piece of the pie.

And relationships aren't the most brutal example. We perform below our potential in almost every area of life. We want so much, but settle for mediocre lives that are typical and, well, downright pathetic. And as sad as that is, most of us will acknowledge that truth and do nothing about it. We'd rather protect pride and egos than share ourselves with people and opportunities that could change us forever.

I don't want to be the rebel without a cause anymore. I don't want to sabotage myself anymore. I don't want to give all of myself to someone else in order to avoid giving myself to, well, MYSELF. It's just ridiculously foolish to live life halfway. I'd rather start to chase the things I want and deserve, no matter how terrified I get, than to sit back and safely try to slide through this miraculous life.

I believe that this life has beautiful opportunities for me, waiting just beyond the darkest forest I'll ever know. I think that, on the other side of that massive mountain, my promised land is complete with a beautiful marriage...healthy children...a fulfilling career...and the strength to face every giant that attempts to intimidate and break me.

So how about you? What are you waiting for? If only you knew...how much this life has to offer you, you would get off your scared ass and join me. You'd chase your dreams relentlessly. ;-)

CASH your reality check here!

I spend a lot of time...waste a lot of time worrying about days that I may not live to see. This recession has changed me...transformed me into a paranoid prick. I don't want to take risks anymore, don't want to explore the world. All I want to do...try to do is save for the rainy days that I now pessimistically expect. When I spend money, I feel guilty. When I eat out, I feel guilty. I have these goals that taunt me in my sleep. Save $10,000. Buy a house by December. Avoid gaining weight/lose 10 more pounds. Get a better job. Avoid losing the job you've got. Be nicer to your mother...because she's gonna have to feed/house you if you lose your job.

It's all so ridiculous, right? I'm 23 for Pete's sake. But (REALITY CHECK BEGINS HERE)...23 isn't what it used to be. I don't have the option of spending my days in Wilmington, sitting on the boardwalk and eating $4 nachos. I can't go to St. Thomas every summer like my dad did in the 1980's and party/drink for 3 months at a time. I can't live in the Bronx, pay $350 for rent and survive off of a hair dresser's salary like my mom did in the 1970's.

Why? Because it's 2010 fool. And that means that, after college, your young ass better buy a brief case and sneakers and get ready for the rat race. Don't get me wrong. I still don't do cubicles. And I refuse to drink coffee from the break room. I don't party with my co-workers and I don't wear navy blue every day. But I do...like most of us...wait on that fatt paycheck with an eager heart and wide eyes. Being 20-something is all about preparation. If you want to be 32, living in your parent's attic (the basement isn't available-your cousin already lives down there), working at Burger World, and wobbling the whole way to work on your bike...because your fat, depressed ass can't afford a car...then go ahead and party hard!

Seriously, act like you're on the show JERSEY SHORE and fist pump with the best of them every weekend in the same lame club you've been going to since high school. Don't worry about your credit score. It's just a number. And keep buying cheap shoes to impress Tyrone (who works with you at TJ Maxx). Because that's what being 20-something "should" be all about.

But, the reality check of your lifetime and mine is...nobody gives a hot damn how young we are. We're a part of a society that is indeed paranoid and preventative. We've lost a lot of the freebies that young people were once given. The mistakes/choices we make now could easily prevent us from ever retiring, owning a home, or sending our own children to college.

So, no, I don't want to spend every day thinking about days up ahead that I may never see. But I also don't want to live my life like an untouchable idiot. I've got things to do, people to influence, and a world to change...so I've got to be better than my personal best (which means-I have to reach heights I once thought were impossible). This isn't a drill people. This is the real deal, we're in the real world now. Carpe diem! Translation? GET IT TOGETHER.

He's Just Not That Into You

I've never known an animal so instinctual, so prey-driven, so relentless, and greedy. I've never known a creature who would sacrifice religion, kingship, nations, and family just to satisfy lust. I've never seen such a monstrous oddity...as man.

For 23 years, I've watched the cycles. I've watched men come and go and come again. I've watched them weasel their way in to the hearts of unsuspecting women, claiming to want to love and honor and protect. But, in the end, the entire mission is just a conquest.

And even though its 2010 and women are hunters too, I still see an unfair ratio. I still hear conversations among friends who've been hurt or disappointed. I still experience my own distaste for the male species because when given the chance to do right...they often don't.

But this isn't the male bashing blog. And I am not another angry scarred woman. I'm just "Miss Reality Check" and I think that heartbreak is preventable. That's right, I said it! Heartbreak is preventable and often self-afflicted. Because the signs are there people. And when denial moves out of the way, the truth is waiting like a glorified sunrise...unavoidable and magnificent.



You want to know more about the signs? I thought you'd never ask. Let's start from the top.



1) Phone calls. If you've been waiting for him to call since 1998, its time to let go. No, your phone didn't just fail to record a missed call and No...he doesn't have the wrong number saved. No! He didn't get hit by a short bus on the way home from work. He's just...not that into you.

2) Text Messages. If you text him...daily...and he either doesn't text back or texts one word answers every once in a while. He's gently saying that there just isn't much to say. And even though guys can be nonchalant and laid back, when they want something...really want something...they go full throttle. If you can't get him to respond to a text, you probably won't be able to get him to do much else.

3) Dates. I just need to take a moment and define "date". A date is not just an event that two people attend together. It isn't a date just because he paid. He might've just been raised by parents instead of bears or baboons. He might just be a nice guy. It's not a date until he makes it clear that he wants it to be a date. Reaching for your hand and asking when you'd like to go out again are good signals but him talking past you while gawking at another girl's butt...not so much.

4) Sex. If, after a night of romance, he sees you downtown with your friends and fails to acknowledge your existence...please don't assume that he didn't see you. He definitely saw you. You were damn-near river dancing to get his attention, but he avoided you anyway. The simple truth? Sex doesn't bond souls...it bonds anatomy. Nothing less, nothing more.

To be continued...

That's all I've got for now people. It's really not that deep. Either he's into you or he isn't. Save your tears for real tragedies. This whole relationship thing is overrated. A woman's intuition is so powerful. I believe that every woman knows when she is being authentically loved. There is a constant presence of security, compassion, and sincerity.

When you constantly have to vouch for your love or validate your man by talking about all the "nice things" he's done in the past (keyword: past) it's time to let go and let life heal you. I know that men can be absolute dogs. But if women wouldn't be so quick to let the dog catch the pussycat...there'd be a lot less broken hearts in the love doctor's office.

I'm just bein real.