Coffee Rhetoric: Shadow boxing
Showing posts with label Shadow boxing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shadow boxing. Show all posts

August 18, 2011

Spilling Open: Introspection

I haven't had the opportunity to spill open on here in a while. .. not in the fashion I'm accustomed to. "Diversifying" and introducing different elements to this blog has prompted me to sort of shut my personal self off. Since I can't afford the luxury of sighing and heaving to a shrink, I figured I'd get back to the middle and do it here. I miss spilling open here. The luxury of having my own forum and not restricting how I utilize my voice is a wonderful and freeing right to have. This very late and sleepless night, I choose to project in a very self-analytical way... for I'm the best, worst, most knowledgeable judge of me, myself, and I. 
Three days ago, I turned 34. I haven't had the opportunity to let the fact that I'm in my hardcore, mid-thirties, sink in until late last night and then now. I've always been an extremely leery woman, but it seems the older I get... the grumpier, more impatient, cut and dry paranoid I become about people's intentions (not to mention the insane hormonal changes my body is experiencing). My thoughts run a mile a minute... still... and my intuition goes into overdrive... The nights I can't sleep (which are often), I'm more in form and my emotions run the gamut.
Close friendships I've had for years are still intact, easy to maintain, and I cherish them. I also curse them for being so long-distance.  I'm finding that cultivating new ones is a difficult process for me. Sort of like the three times I've tried, to no avail, to care for and nurture organic  French lavender plants.  While I enjoy meeting their acquaintance, I don't trust people upon first coming into contact with them and schmoozing is a daunting task I'd rather avoid. My expectations of folks I fancy tend to be pretty basic, but high (within reason)... so when they generate a flaky outer-crust, I have visuals of them engaging in unsavory discussions about me when I'm not around and cackling at my expense after I've opened up to them (a la the movie, Carrie... when she flashes back to her mother mockingly telling her; "They're all gonna laugh at you!"). Mind you, none of the things I'm divulging charts the madness of an Angry Black Woman who's aging and coming undone. I've gone through some schtuff  over the years with people I considered friends, who eventually had no use for me once I stopped being able to provide them with the things they needed from me or who found someone more ride-or-die to guffaw and shoot the shit with. This is nineteen years worth of angst. I'm conflicted; sometimes  assholish when it comes to shielding myself... and so it manifests in a brooding, somewhat cold package ready to cut someone's jugular (or shutdown and close up shop, depending on the situation)- when I think I'm being compromised in some way. I stay solitary for the most part and actually quite enjoy doing things alone... In fact I find it gratifying and not unlike the scene from Catherine Breillat's French film, Romance... where Marie stalks her boyfriend to a sushi restaurant... chagrined by his flagrant pleasure in being alone eating his California rolls and reading his book ... without her... to which she mentally voices over that she would've rather found him cheating with another woman. 
While I dislike being a mercurial woman sans the desire to nurture deeper relationships with the opposite sex or entertain any new applicants for friendship, I've grown comfortable in my ... aloofness (for lack of a better term), as it's easy to just exist in a world unto myself and with people I'm comfortable with and who know me. But while my opaque and indifferent nature seems comforting and offers the protection I need from being inconvenienced in some way...  it's exasperating. 
Aging, learning how to deal with other people's personality quirks juxtaposed against my own, and fumbling towards my core presents an amalgamation of different feelings: perplexed, resistant, and frustrated ...
I understand that venturing outside the comfortable confines I've built around myself is a difficult but very necessary thing I need to experience more often... Despite it being so easy to withdraw and become self-contained... In essence, I just want to be left the hell alone; yet essentially I want to be happy having reached some sort of balanced medium... but I know this isn't a healthy or realistic expectation. What can I say?... I'm a middle child who embraces her right to err and grow. Stay tuned...

February 12, 2010

Hathor Take The Wheel

I did not want to bat an eyelash over John Mayer’s recent FAIL interview with Playboy Magazine, but the more in-depth I read it- (in its entirety, because I did not want to comment based solely on the excerpts that got everyone in an uproar)- the harder I blinked and the more perplexed I became. I will not comment on the obvious homophobia or misogyny and ageism he displayed whilst commenting on his former girlfriends (‘right made the acid in my stomach gurgle with displeasure), nor on the lack of confidence he has in his manhood for he spoke at length about his sexual prowess and technique as well as his need to prove himself and be better than the former flames of his conquests. 
What I will rant and rave about however, is John’s proclamations that he has a “hood/nigger” pass, suggesting that having one somehow justifies his never ending, assholish behavior, asinine public comments and Twitter rants. He said he was "Very" just like Black folks. "V.E.R.Y." and so it absolved him of stupid behavior. Man, I guess (not).  John also name dropped Kanye West, a fellow partner in lame grappling with his own P.R. issues and who in 1996 (publicly creamed his trousers over the splendor of biracial women or “mutts” as he affectionately called them, Jay-Z, and other rappers, who, shall I add, seem color-struck and enamored with all things lighter-skinned and/or non-Black themselves, and will never miss an opportunity to bash dark-skinned Black women or to drape themselves with the finest of racially ambiguous vixens. But I digress... 
John Mayer… who always manages to fellate his foot hungrily, deep-throating it with gusto whenever he has the media’s attention… felt his scrotum swelling with douche water after waving his “nigger pass” in the air... going on to gloat, after being asked if Black women threw themselves at him  (a stupid question in and of itself), that while he has a Benetton heart he just couldn’t open himself up to the possibility of entertaining Black women, due to his having a David Duke cock.”
insert record screeching to an abrupt stop right here
Correct me if I’m wrong, or perhaps I’m out of the loop, but I had no idea Black women were drowning John in a river of crème de la coochie. I was completely unaware that this rather uninteresting and bland musician was the stuff that makes Black women swoon with unbridled desire. John also went on to make vulgar remarks about noted Black actress Kerry Washington’s hotness and how she might possibly suck a dick and say, “Yeah, I did it, so what?” for she’d undoubtedly break a Caucasian cad’s heart because she's "crazy like a white girl," or some such nonsense to that effect, his love of porn, and how every White dude bulged out of their boxers for sitcom character Hilary Banks from the The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. Additionally, while John Mayer is entitled to his preferences, why do it at the expense of Black women by suggesting that we are somehow not worthy or significant enough for someone as inane as he is? Listen, at the end of the day, I don't need John's racist penis to validate me as a Black woman or any other White man with a "nigger pass" or otherwise for that matter, so I'll sleep well this evening, but imagine the shock and furor had Halle Berry stated she had the heart of Coretta Scott King but the vagina of Minister Louis Farrakhan ... Mmm hmmm... Think, think, think... famous people. THINK before you spew. 
To the assholes who gave Mayer a “nigger pass,” Therein lies the problem, jerks. You make it OK for dumb-asses to engage in hipster racism because you’re giving them the go-ahead to do so…ofttimes at a Black woman's expense.  And then you’re the same jack-asses who want to mollywhop your White buddy, because he said,  “Nigger please!” Um. No sir. You can't have it both ways. Good for the goose but not for the gander??
John Mayer or any other wanna-be down chav gets no “hood pass” from me EVER. I don’t care how many BLACK friends you collect, I don't care how many close White friends I happen to connect with, and I don’t care how many of your BLACK FRIENDS said it was OK to make stupid statements steeped in bigotry. It is never OK to wallow in ignorance because you think it's the hip thing that will get you an *in.* Real talk. I don't hand those types of passes out. Null and VOID. 
Mayer, choked up and regretful (because his publicist told him to be ), issued a tearful apology onstage in the middle of a performance in addition to taking to his Twitter page yet again to partake in some major damage control. I refuse to stroke his ego by saying, “Awww, he made a mistake.” A mistake is something that’s unintentional and not predicated on arrogance and one’s privilege. He's sorry, because folks got pissed and his statements were not well received, because just like many White people who share Mayer's sentiment(s) about being "down", it's always cool to smile proudly and proclaim how much Black people love you, as a way to justify making ignorant (regardless of one's intention) statements out loud. And to co-opt the cool parts of being a racial minority, while rejecting the difficulties of being one. 
In the grand scheme of his stupidity, self-loathing, and narcissism however, I do not believe that Mayer is a racist. And I don't care if his David Duke cock wants to burn a cross at my window, because I am personally not, nor have I ever been rubbing myself raw over John Mayer. He is a bigot who hates women, however... and is a sad a victim of his own delusions of grandeur, arrogance, and sexual inadequacy. And to those Black folks who think it’s cute for some "others" to trash-talk your mothers, aunts, dads, brothers, uncles, and sisters (yes, those of you issuing out the free "nigger passes" to your White buddies)… stop perpetuating the disrespectful behavior. Enough is enough.  
Perhaps Mayer's attempt to fumble towards ecstasy and understanding will help us mull over the topics of race and gender a little more closely, and think before we open our gobs... trying to be clever. And a simple, "No, Black women don't throw themselves at me. Not at all." would've sufficed, John.

Read more about Mayer-gate 2010---

January 24, 2010

Slippery When Wet


I recently damned the complexities of dating and all its bullshit to hell. Cynicism aside; Upon further discussions with friends newly found and old, recent meet & greets, as well as random acts of thinking on a lazy Sunday afternoon, I've concluded that finding a decent person to spend quality time with on occasion, is akin to holding onto a slippery bar of soap, while trying to keep your shit together in prison. I've never been to prison and have no aspirations of landing my big break in that particular environment, but I would imagine that lathering up in a communal shower while deep in thought over how the hell you found yourself there... and then dropping the soap, only to bend over without thought or caution and get reamed within an inch of your life in an opportunistic sneak attack, is a traumatizing experience to say the least. You have to hold onto that bar of soap for dear life, and be methodical with every move you make as you lather your skin in a circular motion, shifty eyed and leery.

Dating requires patience, maintaining tough but supple skin, methodical movements, intellect, caution, and engaging in a carefully choreographed Adagio dance or angry Tango Ultimo with the opposite sex. As frustrating as trying to foster or nourish a certain level of intimacy or rapport with someone is; Being aloof, intuitive, and resolute is a must. Because if you let yourself slip up and get mired in the foolishness--- bam! You're doubled over, screwed out of nowhere. It's le marcher fou des sexes for sure. I'm constantly dancing over potholes and bird shit. I've even tripped over a crack or two... But all praises due to ỌṣunI always manage to regain my footing before going down, face-first like a cheap, ten dollar whore. Not sure what my score card would read like though. I shudder at the thought. And I bathe with shower gel most days, rather than soap sooo--- yeah.

August 19, 2009

Off-Balance

"If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn't be. And what wouldn't be it would. You see?" Italic
-Alice, Alice in Wonderland
I don't know the minute intricacies of the term 'qui' (better recognized as 'chi'), but my research has indicated that it basically translates to "energy flow," and is compared to western notions of energeia or elan vital. Further research and etomology indicates that energeia was a technical term used widely by Aristotle and may or may not be the source for the word energy... or the term 'being at work', activity or perhaps actuality. Elan vital, on the other hand (coined by French philosopher Henri Bergson in his book 'Creative Evolution'), more or less translates to "vital force"... electricity, life, essence being breathed into something or other...
What does all of this philosophical rambling mean? In plain language, it's me saying my chi... my energy... my life force is off balance. Suddenly, despite my optimism (and struggle to remain so), is on shaky ground. I have these intermittent moments (exacerbated by PMS) where I'm gripped by anxiety: My stomach hurts and is all gurgly, I may get a headache, my sinuses become plugged giving way to a sore throat, a zit or two, cumulus clouds reign for the briefest of moments and I start brooding. My mood becomes dark. I become leery, introspective, somewhat misanthropic, because then I start mulling things over. People aren't who or what they seem. ... Gripping, I feel as if I'm hanging on by the tips of my fingers. And I'm just... solitary. ... Alone by choice and because sometimes I have no choice. I just am. Some folks don't get, or want to understand just... stuff. Instead they want to dictate, speculate, and worse yet... patronize, forgetting completely what it's like to struggle over a hurdle or to have off days... or to just feel mentally drained. Suddenly I don't have the right to feel worried about the immediate future and my livelihood. So I sort of withdraw and become self-contained.
The hunt is an exasperating process. The climate we're in makes it seem like I'm appealing to a panderer sometimes. And it's disconcerting. Either way, I'm still hanging on. by.the.tips.of.my.fingers. My pride and ego are like an undulating tidal wave, but I'm not broken... just bruised a little.
*Image: Paul Gaugin's The Brooding Woman, 1891

June 28, 2009

Disturbia

As difficult as it is to admit this out in the open, some days I feel... lonely. I feel alone. I honestly have never admitted that out loud... verbally or in writing. Here's where the revelation becomes slightly more provocative... I feel lonely because I don't trust very many people, and I'm an extremely leery and guarded woman. Certain circumstances as of late, have caused me to become even more self-contained. Nothing worse than opening yourself up to folks... whether within the context of dating or budding friendships... only to have your privacy or your trust compromised.
I honestly don't know that I feel that bad about being a loner, however. This post is definitely no lament. I mean, I have my moments where I think I need to be more trusting, more open, but then I shake it off and say "eff it."
This is something I grapple with daily, I did as a teenager and I still do at the age of 31. Perhaps this is why I'm still single, while both of my sisters (one older, one younger) are married. I've never had a long term relationship or sustained one long enough to want to introduce him to my family or friends. I must say, my wariness isn't unwarranted. Men I've dated have proved to be, wishy-washy, self-entitled jerks. I'm not one to settle just for the sake of having warm man parts to keep my mattress comfy. Friends? I have very few. I keep the circle tight. I've networked and tried to reach out to no end, only to come up against shady types, who aren't that trustworthy afterall, and will flip quicker than a mafia rat. One friendship that continues to sustain is my dearest and bestest... Cat. Who I've mentioned numerous times on this blog. Thank heaven for her. I guess my point is, today is one of those days where I'm feeling, well, bored and lonely and felt the need to spill open, out loud about it. While I'm not particularly saddened or regretful for being as leery as I am, it can become exasperating at times ...

February 10, 2008

Rolling With the Punches

Life is still chug, chug, chugging along. Work keeps me pretty busy, I've been consuming large doses of chocolate, coffee, and smoked almonds... prescribed by Dr. Jones, M.D. and struggling to find sleep however and wherever I can (sometimes I pass out fully clothed, not having the energy to change into my PJs, and not waking up until the next morning with my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, and my eyeliner smeared all over my eyes). I takes it however I can get it. That's what facial cleanse, a nice hot shower, and toothpaste is for. The apartment hunt also rages on. I'm hoping late Spring early Summer will find me laying down a deposit somewhere cool. The weather has been grey, brisk, and foggy complete with snow showers or just simply rain. I've also been watching a lot of horror films, for some reason...
This past Thursday, I had my first official work related altercation (it had been building because she had been acting the fool from word go), which leads me to the conclusion that some people are just predisposed to lunacy, ignorance, and being les miserables in search of company. New kid on the block or not, I am never afraid to stand up for myself particularly if I feel as if my livelihood is being threatened. There is never any reason to feel intimidated by someone just looking for trouble, because they think they can. Unfortunately for her, she discovered that I am NOT the one, and I only need to state my case once. I don't need to yell, wiggle my neck, or jab my finger to get my point across. I refuse to engage in some sort of back and forth power struggle every single day I come to work, and I make my point in a level, stern, yet controlled voice. I make sure to maintain eye contact to show how unafraid I am. Considering the tumultuous experience I left at my previous place of employment, I do not plan on engaging pettiness, gossip, disingenuousness, and behaviors of the like.
I'm busy, preoccupied, there for very specific reasons... to perform tasks and contribute my expertise and work ethic as best as I can, and to be cordial to everyone so I can go home in a relatively decent mood. My brain is full to capacity and there's no room for irrelevancy. Period. Needless to say this past Friday, she was sweetness and light. And I still don't like her, but I'm glad she was acting human... because all we have to be is cordial and civil to one another, to reach work related goals. I don't know why people think the work place is for unproductive socializing and trying to start some unnecessary mess. It's not a place for escandaloso! I also appreciate the warnings I received and the support shown me ... encouraging me not to take that ish personally, because of someone's issues. I gots to roll with the punches maybe, and dust that ish off.
On an interesting note, whilst standing, waiting for a cab on a dark, particularly wet and foggy evening, A man walked by me and asked me if I needed a ride anywhere. I politely declined and told him I had a taxi on its way. He walked half way to his car, turn and yelled, "How about dinner then?!" I laughed. He walked back over and made his case: "I am really spontaneous, I'm not married, no girlfriend, I'll give me your number and you can think about it." He also told me he had planned on getting take out for dinner, but decided to stop by the supermarket and get fixings for a nice dinner. One of the most genuine approaches I ever experiences sans the stupid pick up lines. I accepted his number. And finally called him Friday after I returned from lunch, to say "hello." We spoke briefly. He said he had been thinking about me the previous day, saying to himself that I wouldn't call. I told him, I phoned because he seemed genuine and wasn't corny... I said in a previous post that I am too preoccupied to entertain prospective dates. Why do these things happen at the most inopportune moments?
To be continued. ...