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Archive for the tag “random ranting”

It’s Rant Time

Usually, I’m a freaking ray of sunshine. Many people tell me so.

But tonight, I’m not.

I’d actually like the liberty to be an entitled, jerky asshole.

Here’s why.

For the umpteenth night within the last nine or so weeks of this one particular class I’ve been taking that makes me question even being in a program I otherwise absolutely love, this is one night, where I probably won’t even hand this assignment in.

I started on it early. I asked my professor a question so convoluted that she asked me to try explaining how I don’t understand all over again. It’s quite scary, because I think I’m a pretty good communicator. So instead I show her the problems I was trying to work out, she said I was wrong and gave me a general response in hopes of helping me arrive to the answer without giving it. So, ok. Fine.

After being dog tired for about three weeks and finally getting blood results back that conclude I had a high number of antibodies for Epstein Barr virus, which is basically like mono I felt some relief that my extreme fatigue and lack of desire to do anything but sleep in order to have enough energy for me to go to work, wasn’t just depression putting it’s nasty grip on me again.

I knew that generally aside from the class from hell, I was pleased with my life and how everything was going. I was wondering how I could be so tired and listless, knowing that i wasn’t sad sad. At least not that kind of sad. So finding out it was physical took a lot of pressure and guilt off myself and actually gave me an excuse to say “I’m going to concentrate on my health and if some things fall off the table, I’m not going to stress myself out.”

Which brings me to this assignment. I’m a good 40 minutes from the deadline to hand it in right now. I couldn’t bring myself to even go to class, to further take what feels like torture so I may have missed some steps to help me get through the process.

Either way, if nothing else, I see and feel very intimately what a lot of people feel when faced with adversity on top of adversity. There’s the idea of giving up and deep down not wanting to. Then the feeling like you should be better then feeling helpless because no matter how hard you try you can’t be. So then there is an acceptance and then there is a state of I don’t give a fuckery. Which is where I am.

I tried the assignment and no matter how much I tried to go back to the text, a piece is missing. Something is not connecting. So taking into account I’ve been having health issues and simply trying to hold it together, even this effort of trying feels like an accomplishment. I’m certain my professor thinks I’m an unmotivated asshole. And I don’t care anymore. The few times I’ve tried to ask her a question, I’ve just walked away feeling like I’m still on my own. I miss my homegirl who had to sit out this semester because we were a support system for each other.

I’m not a quitter. But right now, I’m getting comfortable with the idea of temporary failure for my sanity. My student advisor told me all wasn’t lost and if I tried really hard, maybe I could crank out a C in the class. There’s still a quiz and the final looming which accounts for about 30% of the grade. I had already calculated if I screwed up for the rest of the semester and pulled off an 80 on the final, I had a chance of getting that coveted C. There’s still hope.

But as of late, I don’t care.

At one point in time, I’d say I’d have to work harder and prove something to my professor that black people aren’t stupid or lazy and that I deserve to be in the program. But you know what? It’s not about her or being a credit to my race right now. I’m tired, I’m working on my health and she’s still going to get paid. Me failing a class isn’t going to help what’s going on in Ferguson right now. I won’t be a discredit to my people or prevent other black folk from getting into my grad school because I fucked up. I’m over feeling that kind of pressure. I want to be healthy, I want to get through these last two weeks.

It’s wild how I can feel like whatever is lower than crap, but feel like a superstar in another class. My professor calls on me often and my classmates are often impressed and entertained with my contributions to the class. Even when I’m not prepared, I have a natural ability to make it work. Doing well in that class gives me confidence, and I like that feeling. The other class, destroys my confidence. But that’s life. That’s part of the lesson. Sometimes not doing so well is part of the lesson. Sometimes saying screw this all today or this entire week and accepting the consequences is a part of life too. I’m prepared to do that.

I’ve been listening to gospel, while wishing I wasn’t on medication so I can drink.

I’m filled with contradictions. Tonight I feel about 5% saint and 95% ratchet sinner. There’s a part of me that hates I can’t complete the homework let alone hand it in and that I’m willing to see a big, fat zero. But I just can’t go any further with it.

So there it is. I’m messy tonight, yall. Messy.

It’s Rant Time

Usually, I’m a freaking ray of sunshine. Many people tell me so.

But tonight, I’m not.

I’d actually like the liberty to be an entitled, jerky asshole.

Here’s why.

For the umpteenth night within the last nine or so weeks of this one particular class I’ve been taking that makes me question even being in a program I otherwise absolutely love, this is one night, where I probably won’t even hand this assignment in.

I started on it early. I asked my professor a question so convoluted that she asked me to try explaining how I don’t understand all over again. It’s quite scary, because I think I’m a pretty good communicator. So instead I show her the problems I was trying to work out, she said I was wrong and gave me a general response in hopes of helping me arrive to the answer without giving it. So, ok. Fine.

After being dog tired for about three weeks and finally getting blood results back that conclude I had a high number of antibodies for Epstein Barr virus, which is basically like mono I felt some relief that my extreme fatigue and lack of desire to do anything but sleep in order to have enough energy for me to go to work, wasn’t just depression putting it’s nasty grip on me again.

I knew that generally aside from the class from hell, I was pleased with my life and how everything was going. I was wondering how I could be so tired and listless, knowing that i wasn’t sad sad. At least not that kind of sad. So finding out it was physical took a lot of pressure and guilt off myself and actually gave me an excuse to say “I’m going to concentrate on my health and if some things fall off the table, I’m not going to stress myself out.”

Which brings me to this assignment. I’m a good 40 minutes from the deadline to hand it in right now. I couldn’t bring myself to even go to class, to further take what feels like torture so I may have missed some steps to help me get through the process.

Either way, if nothing else, I see and feel very intimately what a lot of people feel when faced with adversity on top of adversity. There’s the idea of giving up and deep down not wanting to. Then the feeling like you should be better then feeling helpless because no matter how hard you try you can’t be. So then there is an acceptance and then there is a state of I don’t give a fuckery. Which is where I am.

I tried the assignment and no matter how much I tried to go back to the text, a piece is missing. Something is not connecting. So taking into account I’ve been having health issues and simply trying to hold it together, even this effort of trying feels like an accomplishment. I’m certain my professor thinks I’m an unmotivated asshole. And I don’t care anymore. The few times I’ve tried to ask her a question, I’ve just walked away feeling like I’m still on my own. I miss my homegirl who had to sit out this semester because we were a support system for each other.

I’m not a quitter. But right now, I’m getting comfortable with the idea of temporary failure for my sanity. My student advisor told me all wasn’t lost and if I tried really hard, maybe I could crank out a C in the class. There’s still a quiz and the final looming which accounts for about 30% of the grade. I had already calculated if I screwed up for the rest of the semester and pulled off an 80 on the final, I had a chance of getting that coveted C. There’s still hope.

But as of late, I don’t care.

At one point in time, I’d say I’d have to work harder and prove something to my professor that black people aren’t stupid or lazy and that I deserve to be in the program. But you know what? It’s not about her or being a credit to my race right now. I’m tired, I’m working on my health and she’s still going to get paid. Me failing a class isn’t going to help what’s going on in Ferguson right now. I won’t be a discredit to my people or prevent other black folk from getting into my grad school because I fucked up. I’m over feeling that kind of pressure. I want to be healthy, I want to get through these last two weeks.

It’s wild how I can feel like whatever is lower than crap, but feel like a superstar in another class. My professor calls on me often and my classmates are often impressed and entertained with my contributions to the class. Even when I’m not prepared, I have a natural ability to make it work. Doing well in that class gives me confidence, and I like that feeling. The other class, destroys my confidence. But that’s life. That’s part of the lesson. Sometimes not doing so well is part of the lesson. Sometimes saying screw this all today or this entire week and accepting the consequences is a part of life too. I’m prepared to do that.

I’ve been listening to gospel, while wishing I wasn’t on medication so I can drink.

I’m filled with contradictions. Tonight I feel about 5% saint and 95% ratchet sinner. There’s a part of me that hates I can’t complete the homework let alone hand it in and that I’m willing to see a big, fat zero. But I just can’t go any further with it.

So there it is. I’m messy tonight, yall. Messy.

Birthday-Holiday Shaftle

One of my dear and longest-known friends birthday is December 30th.

For years, I’ve told that dude I feel horrible for him because I know people try to play him with that “Oh, this is your birthday-slash-Christmas gift.”

People born within a week of that holiday are going to get screwed no matter what. You know why? Because people can’t resist twofers, and people who do take the time to spend money on the two individual occasions tend to burn out after a while.

Lots of people take the easy route.

As a person whose birthday comes a week before Valentine’s Day, I tend to wonder if my suitors are ever tempted to do the birthday-Valentine’s Day combo.

I have been fortunate. The men I have claimed around Valentine’s Day have made them separate occasions and given me gifts accordingly. As they should. I mean, it’s not like I’m the only one collecting a gift, or the day is just about me. I’m going to be doing something nice for them too.

But I have seen that as a woman, getting a man a gift for Valentine’s Day is rough. Silk boxer shorts are to mens Valentine’s Day gifts as corny ties to Father’s day.

Jewelry and flowers and candy and a night out never get old to us women, but finding ways to excite and connect with the man you like in the form of a gift is hard.

What should men get for Valentine’s Day? That they’d actually enjoy?

I think it’s narcissistic to think greasing up and putting on some lacy underwear and prancing about for your man is a gift.

I think men love food.

So, I think cooking a nice meal or if you bake, baking him desert is a great idea. If you want to wear your fancy panties then, that’s a gift.

There have been a few times I’ve crashed and burned on Valentine’s Day.

One year, my beau mentioned he likes Oreo cookies. So I looked up a cookie site, and they had valentine’s Oreos. Well, I sent them, but he wasn’t very appreciative. Honestly, I think he took me to a lovely sushi restaurant the day before Valentine’s Day so we could beat the crowds.

How romantic.

I thought the cookies were thoughtful, I thought it showed that I remembered something he liked. But I guess it was all wrong. There were a few gifts over the course of our relationship that he didn’t like and I’m glad we aren’t together anymore because he was quick to show how much he was underwhelmed and disappointed, hence making me feel shitty.

I had another boyfriend back in the day who always said the best gifts, in his opinion, were experiences (i.e. concerts, shows). He said anytime he could actually go out and do or see something special with someone, that’s how he preferred spending his time and money.

Then there are some men, where it really doesn’t matter what you get them. If they are smitten by you, they are glad you even thought of them.

I think I’ve dealt with all types.

That brings me to this year. Boo thang (we are still not official) waited too late to get tickets for a concert tomorrow night, so he has offered to take me to another show, by another artist who I love during the week of Valentine’s Day. Now the concert tix, I believe are a birthday gift.

So this is why I’m wondering if this is going to be a Valentine’s birthday combo. I mean we aren’t official, so should I not even care if this does serve as a Valentine’s birthday combo? I may have to accept it that way. Being that we aren’t official.  It’s weird, being with someone in a non-official capacity means the expectations you place on someone you are official with aren’t there.

Because you aren’t official.

But at the same time, I could be and should be taking advantage of our non-officialness, by not even worrying about it and letting the chips fall where they may.

Case in point.

We still haven’t exchanged our Christmas gifts.

Don’t know if he even bought me one. He says he did. He’s been to my house numerous times and he won’t take my gift, until we can exchange.

Don’t know how to feel about this.  I bought the gift with him in mind, I’d like him to have it, but it just feels absurd. It’s about to be February.

Before the holidays, he said he wanted to take me to his office holiday party in January. Well January is almost over, and I don’t think they canceled the party. Now being non-official, should I care that he never brought the party up ever again?

I’m not some person who just wants gifts all the time. But if I’m spending time with you and trying to build something, I do want to exchange some small token that says, “you’re specialer than everyone else because we are dating.”

I talked to my bestie about how I think things are at a crawl and how being the queen of long distance has ruined me and skewed my view on everyday, local relationships and the excitement factor.

She basically looked at me and said, yup. There’s a lot of just down time. When you went to visit your long distance men on weekends, yall were trying to be happy, spend time and ignore any drama because that’s the only face time you had, and within 72 hours you’d be apart again. It was exciting.

The day-to-day is not. My homie looked at me point blank and said, local, everyday relationships are more often boring than they are exciting.  Well damn.

Realizing this makes me do a dance that my engagement imploded. My expectations were going to be wayyyy unrealistic and waaay off and I was going to be waay miserable in cold ass Chicago.

My cousin also mentioned that the snail’s pace of this relationship, may in fact be just what I’ve needed to snap me into reality and reprogram me in terms of expectations.

We shall see.

 

 

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