You have a vagina, right?

Today is Mother's Day, 2012.  I love my mom and mothers and I like the idea of celebrating them on a special designated national holiday.  The only drawback to this beautiful day is, the awkward exchanges that take place in the days leading up to it.  Especially the Friday before, at work.  I hate the, "and Happy Mother's Day to you" or "enjoy your Mother's Day".  Obviously the people don't know me or else they would know, I have no children.  I have never been pregnant as a matter of fact.  Some will follow it up with, "are you a mother?", but for the most part, I end up staring at their backs trying to figure out the best way to 'break the news' that, although I have a mother whom I will be celebrating with, I am not a mother, but thank you for your well wishes.  I assume I am saluted this way because I fit the age criteria of being a mother.

If I am successful at clarifying the issue and 'fess up, it seems like the air is let out of their bodies as they say or give the 'oh' look.  Almost as if they want to take it back instantly, since I haven't earned my stripes.  Most times, I just say 'thank you' and move on. I know people mean well and it's not done to be hurtful or even assume.  They think they're doing the right thing- wishing a woman of childbearing years a Happy Mother's Day.  I get the feeling the thought is, "you're a woman and you have a vagina, right?"  If I feel weird, I wonder how women who have lost children feel when it's said to them.  Or women who cannot conceive feel about it.  What about the women who just have not settled down or found the right mate for parenting?  Or the aunts, cousins and god parents raising children that are not biologically theirs, whether in a temporary or permanent situation.

I don't want people to stop spreading the love, just maybe take a moment (which I understand most people don't have or think they don't have) to inquire first, "are you a mother? Oh, no, well enjoy your weekend...blah, blah, blah".  Hey, it's better than, "enjoy your weekend anyway".  As if, "well I'm sorry to hear that, do the best you can to have a good weekend."  Again, I take it all in as a positive.  I am grateful my mother is around and I enjoy the holiday, for her sake and the sake of all of my new mommy friends.  But in passing, people say and assume the darndest things, with total disregard of you or your life story.  Their genuine desire to be kind, should not be overlooked however.  That's where the smile and 'thank you' come in.

Happy Mother's Day to all, no matter what your mother situation is, whether you have a mother or not, whether you are a mother or not.  If you have felt the love of a mother, yours or otherwise, you too should celebrate Mother's Day.  As a person who has ever felt the real, uncompromising love of a woman, whatever her mother status; you should celebrate the natural nurturing that comes with most who are women.  And don't forget those women who take care of animals.  It sounds crazy, but there are a lot of pet parents who prefer 4-legged 'children' over the traditional kind, Happy Mother's Day to them too.  There, I think I covered everybody!

Payment in Full

When I logged into my credit union's website this morning to see the status of my accounts, there was one noticeably missing.  My used auto loan.  You see, when an account is closed, the credit union removes it from the current list.  Yes, that's right ladies and gentlemen, I have paid off my car!  I am super excited, for the obvious reason. There will be more money in my pocket to trick off in the future.  But also, because it has taken so long.  I remember when I first purchased the car, it was my second, but the first I bought myself without the help of others, i.e. my parents.  I was shopping for Honda Civics, Jettas, Acuras and such, but a friend of mine at the time, encouraged me to look for a luxury vehicle.  In hindsight, I shouldn't have listened to him.  He was barely paying his bills, and was always behind on his rent.  "They're not as expensive as you think."  I guess not, when you forgo other bills.  Anyway, he and I worked with a salesman at a luxury dealership.  I told him my credit score (I was an amateur, but it was good), my income (about $13K less than I make now) and how much I wanted, or rather could afford to pay every month.  In return the salesman sent me a picture of my car.  It was beautiful.  I was scared and nervous.  How can I afford this?  What are the real responsibilities of having a car?  Especially, this car.  Well days later, I signed and drove it home.  That seems like a lifetime ago and hell, it was.  I have been paying on this car, or as my old friend called it, 'an automobile', forever. 

I tell people, this is America, with the right credit and a little down, you can have anything you want.  So, with that said, I am glad the payments are over.  I now have a few extra hundred each month.   That makes me feel good.  If you remember in my post IR(arely)S(ave), I wanted to pay my bills down and have some money saved.  That was July of last year.  Since then, I have cleared the Ann Taylor card.  And although I didn't meet my savings goal, through my flexible spending account at my job, I have managed not to touch what's taken off top put aside automatically, leaving me with more savings than if I had tried to do it on my own.  Add the car and I have rid myself of some very much undesired debt.  Again, this makes me feel good.  I still have a Visa and some random other bills I want to clear up, but I'm so much closer to being where I want to be financially. 

I make a point of not telling my business 'in the streets', but at the same time there is freedom in living in truth and not a lie.  I have cancelled more outings with friends than I feel comfortable admitting.  Instead of blowing them off or telling a lie, I simply say, 'I have some financial goals that I am trying to meet, I won't be able to do blah, blah, blah.'  The wind at my back, pushing me forward?  My mom.  She is my newly hired financial advisor.  Every time I get paid, I meet her at her apartment with my computer, pay stub and our notebook (yes, I have a spiral notebook that she gave me).  She, in detail, handwrites the money I have, the money owed, due dates and any outings I have planned, to come up with the most accurate figure of what I actually can spend.  It can be tiring and intense, but I feel free in the end, because I no longer hold what I owe inside.  There is no secret or shame, just real life goals, that I am steadily conquering.

Janitor Fun

The janitor at our new office building thinks we're 'cool like that'.  My manager said Janitor (that's how I'll refer to him) showed interest in me the first week.  He told him I had a man, but Janitor said he was going 'for it' anyway.  Since then, I have been 'beautiful', 'my good friend' and today he called, from the elevator bank in the hallway mind you, 'hey good-lookin'.  Enough is enough, 'MJ works fine', I told him.  He put his hand up like 'okay no offense.'  Then apologized by saying, ' I'm sorry, how you doing MJ?'  Why do I have to check this grown man?  Some men think that's a compliment, and yes, to some degree it is.  But in the workplace, don't be too familiar with me.  Especially considering, we just moved in 3 weeks ago.  It means more if you respect me enough to refer to me by my name and treat me in a professional, cordial manner.  Then you can get more comfortable if a work rapport is formed.  Plus, does he really think he has a chance?  I told my manager what happened, he said I should have 'pulled the brotha to the side and told him'.  I should not have hollered it in the hallway.  Whatever.  Men and their egos, never cease to amaze me.  We will see if my trash is emptied tomorrow morning.

Dream Sequence

Here is a dream I wrote about on April 17, 2012:

When I woke this morning, the last thing I dreamt was me in Paris.  I climbed some steps to enter a quaint, quiet and low-lit cafe.  I was alone.  The hostess asked if I wanted to join a table of three women who sat at a table for four.  I looked back and forth between the empty seat at their table and an empty table for two I could dine at alone.  I chose the women's table.  When I sat, they didn't say anything, just looked at me then kept their conversation.  The women were African and/or Middle Eastern.  Their hues were dark chocolate or olive.  Then the scene shifted to what appeared to be the same cafe, but now I was standing.  People were adding pictures of young men and women from the Middle East and Africa to two walls.  I would choose a picture and 'interview' them on the spot.  If they answered my questions, they got citizenship (not sure if to U.S. or France). But it was that simple.

I try to write my dreams down before I forget them, especially the bizarre ones.  Because I will forget, just like I forgot this one.  I happened to be flipping through my journal for another entry I wrote and found this.  To add context, I did just have a conversation with Antoine about how envious I was that he was going to Paris (and other parts of Europe) next month.  Maybe that spawned this dream.

The Truth About Lying

Three things stood out to me this weekend:

1.  It never ceases to amaze me how insecure people, grown people can be.  The fallacies that they concoct and believe are endless.

2.  In time, people will not only reveal their true selves, but the feelings they had tucked deep down will slowly seep to the surface.

3.  Woman cannot live off of Golden Oreo Cookies alone- hungry as hell!

Numbers 1 and 2, are the most important and sometimes less obvious.  It is a shame, but if I was given a dollar every time someone told a lie on me, or totally misconstrued something I said, I would have at least $875!  If I was given a nickel for ever incident where someone used me as the scapegoat for some of their own bullshit when I wasn't to blame, I would have about $600.  But the strange thing about lies and being lied on, is how it brings you so much closer to the truth- your truth.  In my mind, as I wade through the mess of it all, I intricately slay each lie.  I dissect every word repeated and get free, steadily reminding myself that I am defined only by myself, second, and an almighty divine One, who created me, first.  All others are banished to the waist side.

Furthermore, although hurtful, I cannot help but feel empowered.  For someone to take time and create a fairytale about me, they had to have realized that I was, and am, a tower.  A tower that would need to be toppled to bring us to the same level.  Not happening- I'm good where I am.

Drunken Posts

There are times I do not post on Facebook for days.  If anything, I may 'check in' somewhere, but that's it.  But when I am drunk or tipsy even, and out, the posts get a little out of hand.  After last night, I am seriously considering removing Facebook from my phone.  I hate to do it, because sometimes it provides satisfactory entertainment.  Take last night for instance, I posted, or attempted to post at least 5-6 random thoughts and/or commentary on the shape-up of my night.  Which consisted of my ever increasing intake of alcohol.What started out as one post advertising an event, steam-rolled into a barrage of ridiculousness.  I had 3 tequila shots, rum and cranberry, a watermelon long island and a strong gin martini- let's just say I was more vocal than usual.  So vocal, by the end of the night I had posted the inventory of drinks consumed.  Now I was getting a bad reception and my phone kept cutting itself off to reboot, which might explain why today I only see two posts.  I hope that is the case and not just me being confused by the timeline structure.  Regardless, I need to work hard against 'expressing' myself when others are watching, even if via social media.

Cognac Conversations

There are conversations that can only be had by two people.  The kind of soul stirring confessions and reflections that are too deep to say while looking in the eyes of the other person.  The thoughts and yearnings that come to the surface when the lights are low and music takes the pang out of each syllable, making it easier to communicate one's feelings.  One's true feelings.  The conversations that make you think of your grandmother; the one who died before you were born.  Is she proud of me?  What would she say?  What does she think?  The words that haunt and hunt you the next day, making it hard to read even one page from the book you ferociously read just yesterday.  You look back at the page realizing you haven't read shit the whole bus ride.  The stomach churns and your heart giggles at the remembrance of the things said.    I had such a conversation- just last night.  There is a thump in my soul today.  It's on beat though- so I welcome it.

Sips of his cognac.  Tribal house beats.  Just. Last. Night...make for a hazy, tipsy Wednesday.