Grits

I woke up yesterday morning afternoon, after a fun night. My mother came in my room to tell me about her night out with the fam. The fun, the laughter, the drinks =). After our conversation, I asked her what she was about to make for breakfast.

“Grits.”
“Grits!?!”

After surfing the net for a little while, my mother finally called my name to tell me that breakfast was ready, but that I had to make my own eggs. Not a problem. I opened the refrigerator, and what did I see? My grandmothers butter dish. It looked brand new. It isn’t, but it sure did look that way. Crystal, sparkling under the refrigerators light, there was Connie’s butter dish. It made my day. I find that everywhere I turn in my home, there is a piece of Connie. Old photographs. Her purple night gown that I slept in last night. Her blue netted night scarf that I tie around my hair before placing the silk, gold and black one on top – for those foggy mornings when trying to avoid major frizz.

Mommy and I watched the remainder of The Great Debater’s yesterday as well. There’s a moment when the younger debater has the blanket pulled all the way over his head, but the tops of it are neatly folded back, where you can see the precise seam. My eyes lit up when I saw that. I said, “Did you see that blanket!?! That’s how Grandma would fold her blanket!”
When I think of my grandmother, I feel like a little kid again. I tried so hard to be strong after she died, that I believe I may have lost a couple of my marbles under the pressure. Deep down I haven’t been the same since. I still smile the same. Laugh the same. Sleep the same. But I’ll never forget the nights that I pulled the cover all the way over my head and cried. Hard. Quietly. The moment that I never broke down. The moment that I kissed her cheek for the last time.
But I’ll never ever forget how she used to pat my head gently and hum, when I’d lay in her lap. She’d always hum, but I don’t think she even realized that she was doing it. I’ll never forget all the times that I’d get my hair done and she’d smile and say, “You look like a brand new nigga!” Funny lady she was. And funny lady she will always be.

So I ate my grits and my eggs and sausage. I never touched the butter dish. I opted for, “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter,” just so that the butter dish could continue to sit and shine under the refrigerator light. And even though the light goes out when the door is closed, it’s still there – just like Grandma.

This Real World is Hard

June 11 is supposed to be an exciting start to a fabulous weekend for me. I'll be heading to NY to be with my girls for what we've titled ReWe - Reunion Weekend. As the days progress, I'm continually thinking about how I'm going to manage my money to have the $200 for the hotel on hand, as well as money for food and of course shopping. I don't yet know how I'll do it. But I will.

Unfortunately, one of my best friends sent out a group text today saying that she wouldn't be able to attend ReWe, because she can't even pay the rent. I feel horrible because she's done so much for me during our friendship, and I wish that I could help her. However her situation brought to light, even more than it already had, that this real world is hard. After graduation in May 2008, it took me 3 months to find a one month temporary job, another 2 months to find another temporary job (which in the end was the PITS!) that lasted me 4 months, until God finally sent a full time job with benefits my way. The pay isn't great, no, but everyday I wake up, I'm truly thankful to get up and prepare to head out of my door to be the best Research Program Assistant I can be.

But the thing is, it's still hard. I still live pay check to pay check - especially now. My best friend is still in Hampton working 3 jobs - 2 waitressing jobs and 1 job that's actually in her field - and it still isn't enough. This economy sucks. As an adult you realize that everytime you get a piece of money it has to go somewhere or to someone, and at the end of the day you can get a little exhausted.

Today, my "boo" told me, that he was gonna get drunk. Why? you may ask -just as I did. Because he needs a job and can't find one. His situation is a bit different - He just graduated from college 2 weeks ago - I know, "cuz I was right there at his graduation." I pray that he doesn't have to go through the 9 months of hell and unhappiness that I went through trying to find a decent job in this crappy economy. It will bring tears to your eyes no matter how strong you try to be, and regardless of how many nights you sit up until 3 and 4 am clicking away at your keyboard in hopes of at least finding a front desk position at the motel in the middle of North Avenue. And those fancy, "Thanks for getting dressed up and putting on your best suit, but we don't need yo ass," letters and emails make it all the more difficult to try and stay afloat.

BUT, once you've made it through, you've done just that - made it through. And once you get to where God wants you to be, you can appreciate that struggle to pay the rent, the whispers behind your back, and most importantly, your tears. Because they all get you to the top - one day.

So I'm A Virgin After All

So... I think I set this thing up correctly... but I'm not totally sure. Hmmm...
So... Anyway... As the title says, I'm a virgin after all!! I mean, just because I've never done THIS type of thing before lol I've been having an urge to blog for a while, just so that I could have somewhere to place my rants and raves... Somewhere to place my tears and fears. And smiles too... I'm not as eloquent with my words as some. Maybe because I stopped writing. Maybe because reading was never really my thing, even though I did it anyway.

So... Really, what should my first blog be about? Should it be a deep walk down the beaten path of the girl raised by a single mother and not by the ever so opinionated father? Or should it be about life's simple things like, watching my grandmother laugh at her English comedies or listening to the bass develop in my 13 year old brothers voice? I really don't know. You know, I think I'd like to talk about love. So, here it go!

I think that love is amazing. Sometimes, I get extremely excited just imagining how wonderful it will be when I find that man to carry my heart in his and me carry his in mine. I believe that love is not something that was designed to be painful or evil or selfish, yet somehow whenever I ask my peers their honest opinions of it, they give such unhappy adjectives. Growing up, I've had my share of defeats in love, whether it be with my father or a boy in a boys body... or the boy in the man's body. At some point I decided to get the dictionary and the Bible and look up love's definitions. Neither definition (if you do not know what the Bible's definition is I suggest you crack that bad boy open... the same applies for the dictionary) used negative words. So what is it that goes on in our lives that makes our view of love so foggy and blue? I'm sure that our pasts play a major part. I'm sure that our fears of the anticipated trials in love come to fruition at some point as well. But what is it really that make our hearts hurt? We become selfish in love. We become boastful. We chase after love instead of just being open and waiting for it to come to us at its purposefully designed time. We are impatient! So what can we do to deal with love in all of its glory?

I don't know... Maybe you could think of an answer...