Thursday, July 14, 2016

How 'Bout We Don't

To say that I have been enjoying the beautiful weather we’ve had since Memorial Day would be an understatement. I’m hashtag outcheah, having as much fun as possible. Because I’m hashtag outcheah more than usual, I’ve seen a lot of familiar faces. At a concert in May, and a party this past Saturday, I saw familiar faces I hadn’t seen in years.

Who?

Female friends of an ex. And both instances occurred at the restroom.

The first time, I was washing my hands, and someone next to me goes “You’re [redacted’s] ex-girlfriend.” My homie was with me and she was ready to stroll up like Bey and her whoadies as I slowly turned my head to see who was speaking to me.

The second time, I was waiting in line at the restroom, “seal broken,” and someone goes “I know you from somewhere. Don’t do me like this. I’m drunk. But I know you.” I’m slightly tickled, slowly turned her towards me so I could see her face (She was outta there!) and was like “What is your name?” She says it, and I go “You’re [redacted’s] best friend.” I give the church hug and continue to wait. There is banter with a drunk guy going into the men’s room THAT NEVER HAS A LINE, then she goes “So, how’s life?"
See, this what we don't have to do. First of all, it's unnecessary. And B of all, she doesn't really care. I know she was rooting for her friend to get with someone else before her friend and I were over. I kept it short with “Life is good,” and continued to wait for the next available toilet.
This is the only ex I have whose female friends have come at me awkward. I don't get it. I don’t recall ever going up to exes of my male friends and saying anything to them! Not even when the liquor's in the system. It’s tacky, and unnecessary. The most I’ve probably done is tell a friend that I saw their ex. Other than that, I keep it moving.
I really have to stay away from public restrooms.
K to the...
 

Tuesday, July 5, 2016

Bifcake Chronicles: Tinderoni

After obtaining proof from my ship that it’s not just a hook-up site, I joined Tinder last month. My profile has about 5 pics, and a very simple description:

“If you don’t acknowledge Pluto as a planet or looking for a FWB, keep it movin.”

Trill.

What’s cool about about Tinder is I am looking at profiles of men of all ethnicities who are within the age range of interest, and the radius I’ve chosen. I have come across some interesting profiles:

  • Man looking for a sugar babyWe actually “matched” but I didn’t want to give up my cookies too. I have standards. *giggles*
  • Married couples looking for a woman to spice things upNah
  • Married men who are looking to just hook upAt least they’re honest
  • Men in their 30s & 40s with no kids, never been married, and currently singleI call these men “Unicorns.” 
  • Guys I know from high school or from hoopingI wanna match with them just so I can send a message saying “What the hell are you doing on here?” I just keep swiping.

There have been two Unicorns that I have been texting on the regular. One I went on a brunch date with this past weekend. He is much cuter in his pics. However, he had me cracking up at brunch. My face was hurting by the time we were leaving. We shall see how that goes.

The other unicorn seemed cool, based on text messages and his profile…until a phone conversation we had yesterday. I have a thing about outsiders coming in my city, residing here, then dissing it as if the entire city of Chicago, including all its citizens, ain’t shit. And that is basically what he was doing during the convo. He apologized after I told him he talks as if Chicago is beneath him. We're supposed to meet up on Friday after work for drinks. Ugh. That miiiiight be postponed.

AND...his "jokes" were lame. As someone who loves a good corny joke, for me to consider your jokes lame means you’re just…shut up!

Dating can be exhausting, yet fun at the same time. I joined Tinder to meet guys outside of my social circle. Kudos to me for keeping it going.

K to the...

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

Basketball Chronicles: It's Still There

Back in February, I had drafted a blogpost about how I felt my love for basketball was dwindling. Basketball used to be my refuge from everything. When I was on the court, nothing else mattered. If I couldn't sleep, I would go put up some shots (Oh how I've missed going to a gym opened 24 hours).

It came to point where I was playing solely for cardio; like it was an assignment or something. I was playing with grown ass males who acted like children. I wrote about some of the ish I went through on this blog, but there was a lot of ish I didn't write about. You'd think after 4 years of playing with the same males every week, I wouldn't have to deal with them coming at me sideways every week solely because I am a woman.

So, I started running more. And it seemed running was going to replace basketball as my refuge...until I joined a another gym after moving back to the city. It wasn't that I didn't like playing basketball anymore...I just needed a change of scenery.

I am running the Divine Nine 5K in June, then I will begin training in August for the Hot Chocolate 15K. 

15K. 

9.3 miles.

WHAT AM I DOING!?!?!

After I conquer the 15K, there will be no reason for me to continue running. I have no aspirations to do a half or full marathon. Distance running is cool, but I have come to the conclusion that I really don't like it. I love basketball way more than running.

I am slowly but surely getting back to my refuge. I haven't stepped on the court in 3 weeks. That's 3 weeks too long.

That's how I know the love is still there.

K to the...

Wednesday, April 20, 2016

Bifcake Chronicles: Just...no

Seeing a "filtered message" in your Facebook inbox saying "I love you" from an ex who is currently married is not flattering. And it's disrespectful to his wife. I wish I had seen the message when it was sent 4 months ago so I could have hit him with the "Nigga please, if you don't get the fuh..."

*I really miss when only people with whom I'm Facebook friends could send me messages.*

I don't read daily horoscopes. However, I'm a firm believer in our astrological signs saying a lot about who we are as individuals, and with whom we are romantically compatible. The disrespectful nincompoop was born under one of the signs with whom I am NOT compatible.

Pisces.

So, to the men that were born under Pisces and Virgo (another incompatible sign), this Sagittarian has only one thing to say to you:



K to the...

P.S. My last three relationships were with guys under Pisces or Virgo. No mas! No mas!

Friday, April 8, 2016

Yogi Chronicles: No Gain In Pain

Some background for you on yoga.

Yoga is a philosophy of attaining mental, physical and spiritual happiness through different mental and physical techniques that are practiced on the regular. Yoga has what is called 8 Limbs of Yoga which act as guidelines on living a meaningful and purposeful life. The limbs are:

1. Yama – Abstentions
2. Niyama – Observances
3. Asana – Postures/Poses (What folk are familiar with)
4. Pranayama – Breath Control
5. Pratyahara – Sense-withdrawal
6. Dharana – Concentration
7. Dhyana – Meditation
8. Samadhi – Contemplation

Ahimsa, one of the five yamas, means practicing non-violence; causing no harm. There are three types of ahimsa: intellectual, verbal and physical. While teaching class, or in the captions of my pics on Instagram, I always mention to do what makes you comfortable and listen to your body. There is no gain in pain, in yoga.

During my 8K training, there were times when I'd want to push my body to go a little further without stopping to walk. At the same time, I didn't want to hurt myself during training, and risk not being to run the day of the race. So, I had to listen to my body, and accept what I could do in the moment. Came race day, my body felt great. My goal was simple: Finish! I finished, broke personal records, and had fun along the way. I think that was my body's way of thanking me for listening. :-)

Namaste.

K to the...

Monday, January 4, 2016

Daddy's girl

I know who my father is. My middle name is the female version of his first name, followed by his unusual last name. I inherited my love for basketball from him. The rows of wrinkles that form on my forehead when raising my brows is from him. No doubt, I am his child.

A daddy's girl?

My father isn't a prominent figure in my life. He isn't someone I will call when I'm in need. He's been very prominent in my sister's and niece's life, though. And I've accepted this. A couple of years ago, I had a discussion with him in regards to my relationship with my sister. I told him that there is no way my relationship with my sister, who is 13 years younger than me, should be better than my relationship with my sister who is 5 years younger than me. He placed blame on this strained relationship on her mother.

But, you're OUR father!

Then, hearing your father admit to letting that same woman keep him way from you, his first-born...

Makes me feel like I wasn't worth the fight.

So like I said, I've accepted our relationship for what it is. Am I shocked about this past weekend, when he didn't call me like he said he would to confirm a breakfast date he wanted to have?

No.

My relationship with my father is one of the reasons why I don't have kids, right now. I want my kids to have a better relationship with their father than I do with mine. I want to procreate with someone who is willing to fight for our babies harder than my father fought for me. If that means I'm not "fortunate enough"* to have someone come into my life, with whom I'd like to make that move, until I'm pushing 40...oh well!

Anything to keep my offspring from writing this same blogpost in 20+ years.

K to the...

*In quotations since society can make one feel as if having no kids means your life has no meaning at all.

Friday, January 1, 2016

"...maybe we can start again."

My time in Hammond, IN is coming to an end. I can’t believe I have been laying my head in Indiana for what will be 5 years when the lease ends. Though I’ve worked in the city the entire time, I still felt so far away from my family and friends. It wasn’t until my best friend, her husband and baby/my g-baby moved back to the states earlier this year that I had someone who stayed near me. For once, I could go visit someone on the regular and it wouldn’t take me 30 minutes to get to and from their house.

What prompted this change was spending a week at my grandmother’s while my car was being serviced. I got spoiled by the convenience of public transportation, a shorter commute to work, and being 20 minutes or less from everything. It was after that week, I knew I had to “come home.”

The time I've lived in Hammond was what I needed. I needed to step out of my comfort zone (it took months for me to get used to the quiet). I needed to go through the pain I experienced after moving to Indy to learn from it. I needed that time by myself to work on myself. Please believe, people don’t look at driving to Hammond like they look at driving to Orland from the city (though Orland is further). So I had plenty of time to myself. As an introvert, being alone wasn’t an issue. I did learn that people will go where they want to go. Once I accepted that, hearing “you live too far” stung less.

With the move, I have to recondition myself to city life. Some things I could get away with in Indy just won’t fly in Chicago. The block I’ll be staying on (shoutout to family owning property) is pretty quiet. However, no more leaving my radio faceplate on while in the crib. Look, I love my city. But I’m not na├»ve. I have to find another gym to join, meaning I will have even more “Basketball Chronicles” as I’ll have to gain respect from a new group of regular hoopers. I’m also looking to teach yoga in the city, in addition to continuing to teach in Highland.

A lot of changes on the horizon, but I’m not worried. Like my homie Alvin always say, “I’m alright, because God’s got me.”



Happy New Year!

K to the…