STFU

Crazy Face

The face I make when I am struggling to hold my tongue

I am finding that the older I get the more time I spend just looking at people with a blank face and no response– or just smiling and nodding. I have become increasingly picky about how I choose to use my time and energy. For example, if you are an ill-mannered co-worker assigned to work with me on a temporary project and it’s highly likely that I will never have to work with you again I’m not going to waste precious energy in an effort to confront your bad manners or to try to resolve how to work with each other. I’m going to keep silent, complete the job and throw up deuces when our time together is over.

Work

I find that this works just fine in most situations

I actually had a similar situation like this play out on a recent business trip except I didn’t quite leave things at a peaceful goodbye. I left with an attitude and was rude and abrupt–and I immediately felt awful about it. Unfortunately, it also seems the older I get the less of a kick I get out of telling people off and fighting ridiculous battles of will with people who hardly know me. I struggle less with guilt by making the decision to mind my tongue and keep it moving.

The Problem with Putting People in Their Place

… is that every once in a while you have to renew it. If you hang around people it is only a matter of time before a faux pas is made and boundaries are crossed. Whoops!

If I find myself dealing with repeat behavior too often, it becomes clear to me that there is no more bud left to be nipped. This person obviously can’t cease and desist on their behaviors so instead of yet another “come to Jesus” talk about boundaries it’s easier to just say nothing and disassociate. The anonymity of technology allows people to be so bold these days, as well as vocal about who is being cut off and why, etc. Listen, I have no interest in a long text/communication with you if it’s going to do nothing to edify you or our situation. If you’re bossy, controlling and hard -headed by nature then I’m not going to bother talking to your bossy controlling hard headed ass because you’re stubborn and not likely to change anyway. I’m simply going to fall back and STFU.

Whoa

Trying to tell people off via Facebook or text?– you’re just going to get this response. Why waste the energy?

Loudmouth people will somehow try to convince you that practicing STFU is a bad thing. They think it’s somehow passive and weak—however speaking as a former loudmouth (and still transitioning out of this) it actually feels more refreshing and validating to reject potential battles and continue on with life in peace. I don’t have to prove myself to anyone and I save a lot of time by not feeling obligated to do so. Also, when you’re a loudmouth people try to use you as their mouthpiece for when they don’t have the courage to speak up for themselves. I care about my children, my relationship, family, homelessness, poverty, injustice and racism—I am happy to speak up about those issues but I won’t be the mouthpiece for an issue that only marginally grinds my gears. This is life, it’s nearly impossible to be comfortable and happy with everything so you learn to adapt and adjust. I think that is a main idea that a lot of people haven’t seemed to grasp yet. We are a world filled with billions of people all trying to adjust everyone around us to accommodate our needs. Sometimes you don’t get what you want—especially out of other flawed individuals—so MOVE THE FUCK ON! Everyone doesn’t deserve an explanation.

When I made the decision to leave my first husband it wasn’t an easy decision but it was a definite one. I had laid down the law of expectations and those expectations were not being met. While I was in it I was fighting, I was accepting, forgiving, tolerating and trying to make it work but once it was done…well, it was done. I didn’t feel the need to explain why I was leaving; I made the cause and effect clear. If certain behavior continues, I will leave. The behavior continued and I left with no further need for discussion. Talking is EXHAUSTING and sometimes the most difficult way to interpret a situation. I learn so much more about people by ignoring their words, shutting up and observing actions instead. There is power in the closed mouth and I only wish I had known this about 10 years ago! I’ve wasted so much time telling people off, explaining to them who I am and “what they’re NOT gonna do”; when I could have just not said anything and let the chips fall where they may.

It’s Ok Not to Care

idgaf

You do care– or else you would not have said anything or posted this at all!

I sat home one day, mouth agape as I watched Ellen DeGeneres burst into tears on my television screen. (Anyone who really knows me knows that I love Ellen, she’s awesome, corny and you can’t tell me she’s not an angel sent from heaven to teach us to be kind and dance and be goofy to one another). As it turns out, she was bawling over the plight of some homeless dogs or something. I don’t really remember, to me it was kind of stupid and I don’t care that much about animals.  I see those sappy Sarah McLachlan commercials and I feel nothing, and when these issues pop up on my social media feeds I don’t comment or like because I don’t care.

Especially when it comes to Facebook, my timeline reads like CNN on steroids—reporting stories of missing children, weather alerts, social injustices, videotaped violence, prisoners on the run etc etc. Seriously, I can’t possibly keep up and I’m not sure I would know how to without my brain exploding. I observe everything that’s posted but I don’t dare comment on everything because that’s how you end up looking like an ignorant fool. Yes, I’m talking to you accidentally racist people.

Listen, DO NOT hashtag #AllLivesMatter on any social media—of course ALL lives matter but it’s not ALL people getting their asses beat by the police for trivial and/or alleged crimes every day. For every movement there does not have to be a counter movement—shutting the fuck up is ALWAYS an option. You have the space to talk about whatever you please on your social media but nowadays people not only lack empathy and sensitivity but they get into the habit of spouting their opinions as if they are fact. If you do not feel moved by any particular hot topic or subject matter it is completely acceptable and respectable to stay quiet about it in general. A few weeks ago, the biggest controversy was that the world was paying attention to Caitlyn Jenner as a distraction from the real news issues at hand. Well, not really… if you personally care more about race issues, politics or your grandmother’s 90th birthday it’s perfectly acceptable to stay in your lane on those things. You don’t HAVE to talk about or acknowledge Caitlyn (or any Kardashian thereof) at all! One of my main gripes with social media is the social pressure to speak up and speak out but a lot of the same people sounding off are also deleting commentary they dislike or disagree with. That’s not really how this works…

Bottom line: not every battle is yours to fight. People seem so combative these days, wielding their personal opinions like swords and are so quick to stab you with their advice or good intentions. In some situations, people end up having more respect for you if you don’t say anything at all. This strategy may not apply in every single situation, but I do think it would be good for folks to remember shutting your piehole is always an option and perfecting the art of when to be silent and when to speak is probably one of the most valuable weapons any of us could ever carry in our arsenals.*

Wisdom

Or the ones who truly DON’T care

*Of course this whole blog is made up of my opinion on the subject matter and one could argue that by writing this I am not practicing the art of STFU…

2:57am

He was 22. Time of thought; 2:57am

He was right about the birds beginning to chirp as early as 3am. I can hear them now just outside my window. I always admired those random observations of his–you know, he paid so much attention to detail about everything.

Except me, that is. ..

CAN Collector

OK, so one thing about little miss crazy that wrote me a nasty note and left it on my car. I’ve since calmed down and realized that while I want violence to be the answer, I can’t justify stooping to such ratchet levels– but that’s not what I’m going to talk about today. In the infamous note, homegirl referred to my dude as a “corny ass nigga” (in a half-assed attempt to limit cursing and the N-word on the blog I will reference the word as CAN). My question of the day is: OK, so what’s wrong with a CAN??

SBMThroughout my strange dating life I have definitely showed a history of CAN collecting. Sure, I’ve dated all types of men, but the ones I really hit it off with and wanted to retain for relationship building were absolutely CANs. Case and point: the baby daddies. My 8 year old’s father still likes the Power Rangers and thinks World’s Funniest Home Videos is hilarious television programming. My youngest child’s father owns the DVD box set of the Golden Girls and knows all the characters on My Little Pony–these two are not exactly winning any Thug of the Year awards and I’m fine with that. What’s wrong with us women–black women especially– that corny guys are a bad thing? And should we even call them corny or just “dudes least likely to pistol whip you when an argument breaks out”?

Hmm, let’s reflect back on guys I’ve dated that were not corny. Let’s see… there was street pharmacist dude: owned two cell phones and was unresponsive, unavailable and unmoved by most things. Pulling emotions out of him was like trying to pull his strong white teeth out of his beautiful mouth! Great to look at, had a sense of humor but time spent together had a dark atmosphere and it was clear to me we weren’t going to be anything long term.

Then there was Young Thug who crammed a lot of life into his 22 years on the Earth. He appalled me with stories of robberies, drug use and near death experiences and had a strict unspoken rule that he was only allowed to laugh at his own jokes. Whenever I decided to be in a silly mood he seemed more annoyed by it than anything else; and when I did actually say something funny he would smile as if it brought him physical pain and say, “That’s not funny.” One warm day it rained outside and I dared him to go for a run outside in it with me. It was all sorts of cornball fun and games splashing through puddles and getting soaking wet until he abruptly decided that the activity was just too corny and our frolicking came to a complete and abrupt halt. He complained for days about his tawny dread locs being ruined by the rain, but I think he was more mad at himself for daring to have the type of fun that didn’t involve smoking and chilling over “so and so’s” house.

And, lastly I’ll mention the guy who had just finished a stint in prison for 8 years for *mumble mumble* “drug stuff”. We got along decently. He didn’t like to kiss on the mouth, asked me for money (which I never gave him) and didn’t appreciate my sarcasm. Months into our odd acquaintance, I sat at a bar with him watching him be rude to our waiter, and on a whim it occurred to me to get more detail about his 8 years in jail. Well, apparently “drug stuff” is code for, I STAB BED MY EX GIRLFRIEND AND LEFT HER IN THE TRUNK OF MY CAR! Umm, check please.

JW TextJust yesterday, I danced around JW’s apartment in just an undershirt with glass of whiskey in hand, watching him attempt to moonwalk while singing Michael Jackson high notes. I was comfortable and I was happy– and that’s really my only bottom line. Yes, I could see how he could be seen as a CAN. He has goals and ambition, respects and takes care of me, works long hours and pays all his bills in full and on time—who wouldn’t want a corny ass nigga? I’ve been with those guys that don’t return phone calls and can barely go out into public without picking an aggressive fight with a stranger and I just don’t need that kind of excitement in my life. She can be that ride or die chick stashing cocaine in her snatch and being an alibi for her man’s whereabouts between 9pm and 3am last night. As for me and my CAN, we’ll be over here watching Investigation Discovery and sending each other silly text messages. 😛

The Price of Slapping A Bitch

W Brady

My aunt slapped a bitch once, and because of it she will forever be my hero. The woman she slapped completely deserved it and there were plenty of witnesses around to nod their heads and confirm, “Oh yeah, that bitch just got slapped!” Unfortunately, due to an egregious miscarriage of justice, my aunt had to pay thousands of dollars in lawyer‘s fees just to stay out of jail after the woman pressed charges. How could this have happened in this day and age? Sometimes people need to be slapped and I just don’t get why it’s not an understood American right.

This thought stems from an incident from this morning where someone tried my patience. Long story short, JW’s neighbor has beef with him about typical neighborly disputes—therefore she has beef with me as a frequent houseguest and witness of disputes. For whatever reason I believe in giving people the benefit of the doubt and I’ve been trying to establish some sort of peace in this chaotic rivalry between them but alas, she had to try me. I leave his apartment this morning and drive halfway home only to discover there’s a note on my windshield. Why, who could it be leaving me a nice little love note to take home and cherish? The note was addressed to Bobbi Kristina—which I suppose is funny but kind of missed the mark because:

BK

Not bad looking at all…

  1. I don’t think BK is a terrible looking woman. I actually think she’s cute. Our feminine egos would love for our celebrity doppelgängers to be perhaps more glamorous or sexy but I really don’t care and I’ve been called this before and even nicknamed this by someone and it left me with an overall feeling of “Meh”. (I didn’t even think the neighbor had seen my face enough to make that kind of association).
  2. If it was supposed to be some sort of jab about my gap teeth she’s about 15 years too late. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been made fun of for something that is obviously not a big deal to 99% of the people I meet. Also, life is too short for me to be particularly bothered about not having perfect teeth. I have bills to pay and children to rear!
  3. I am perhaps mean for mentioning this but I have to—the woman who wrote this note is morbidly obese. She is not thick, she is not phat OR even fat; she is a walking heart attack. This woman is so large that she can’t even put her arms down at her sides. I don’t want to be cruel about her health problems because I am a woman that struggles with weight issues as well—but I also would not be so foolish as to leave a threatening note on anyone’s windshield and dare try to tease them about their appearance when I am clearly not placing in any beauty contests myself. It’s just Womanhood 101. Making fun of people with your friends and anonymously on the blog is great fun; but to do so in person reeks of petty high school one upmanship and I’m just not about that life.
Proud GA

Proud Gaprican American and Grown Ass Woman

Anywho, the note was basically the petty kind of stuff you would expect someone to say if they were trying to provoke you, concluding with a nice threat to take home and meditate on. I do not take kindly to being threatened and don’t know too many that do. This animosity between the two neighbors has now become my problem and I am livid. Because I use words like “livid” I’ve heard more than once, “Oh, you don’t look like the type to be a good fighter.” Listen,  my fighting abilities don’t even come into play here; I don’t need to fight—I just need to slap a bitch. It’s so easy and really all that’s necessary to solve this whole dilemma. However, because of silly little words like “assault” and “jail time”, I am not able to do what I need to do to nip this whole thing in the bud. I truly believe that my hands have healing qualities and I would be able to slap the crazy right out of her and she would probably even thank me for releasing her of all her foolishness.

Seriously, what is happening in my life right now that I’m even dealing with this sort of thing? Trying to discuss it with JW is only resulting in us fighting amongst ourselves and I have to say; I really resent this woman and the position she has put me in. I want to support my man and take it to the streets with her—but the onus is on me to be a lady in this situation thus my hands are tied. Becoming the rowdy “hold it down” chick just can’t be on my list of amazing qualities because I have children and a career and simply cannot afford to spend time in in jail AGAIN! So here I am, typing this and taking the high road. The adult thing to do is to defer to my man to solve his own issues with his neighbors and to stay the hell out of it and disregard her note entirely– hard to do without feeling like a little punk.

As nice as it would be to slap a bitch (even only once!) there is  simply too much risk involved. The high road to mature adulthood officially sucks ass…

TD High

To slap or not to slap….THAT’S the mofo question!

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner

I forget about it—and that’s my fault really, because how do you forget something that’s actually kind of a big deal? Also, lately I’ve been functioning really well because I haven’t really had the time to be sad or feel depressed—but dammit it really creeps up on you sometimes. I was JUST ok, then I spoke to JW on the phone and I couldn’t stop crying. I managed to get away with disguising it as sleepiness but something punctured and I just can’t get back on track. I feel I’m running from something and I’m feeling the need to escape but from what, I don’t know…  This is it, right? My life is going well, I am trying to find balance and there is nothing wrong with me enough to be feeling this way right now.

It’s going to drive a huge wedge into my relationship—I’m sure of it but I can’t stop it. I’m on the deck of the Titanic staring that huge iceberg in the face.  As humiliating as it was, I tried my best to explain to JW that sometimes I’m just not right and I still don’t know the trick to getting better and functioning like an emotionally healthy adult. I basically felt like I  was saying, “Oops, I forgot to mention that sometimes I’m just crazy and I have no control over when it’s going to happen…good luck!” This is every man’s worst nightmare; thinking everything is moving along just fine then being bamboozled with a random problem that is virtually unsolvable.

Mostly, I am just so fucking embarrassed. Poor me, right? Grew up middle class, and my own poor decisions led to bad relationships and unhealthy thought patterns; now waking up and living everyday has become my most difficult accomplishment. And it’s not really that I want to die…I just don’t want to be hassled with LIVING. I’d love to lie in bed and stare at nothing for the rest of my life. I imagine it’s what heaven must be. I would categorize it as laziness but there’s a debilitating sadness that comes along with it that I just can’t shake. I force myself to keep moving, keep pursuing, keep trying but I’ve hit a wall and everything is happening underwater now. I can’t move—I don’t want to, but I have to. There is nothing going on in my brain, but too much and not enough all at the same time.

I don’t want to write about this, I don’t want to be this way. I don’t want to be the surprise at the dinner table; eating in silence, not knowing what to say and pretending to be present when I’m really functioning in white space. I don’t want anyone to talk to me while I’m eating, I don’t want to pass anyone the bread, or laugh at anyone’s jokes. I just want to drink all the wine and eat all the food in silence fighting my own battle to finally not think or worry about anything at all. I don’t want to have to let someone in– and I’m aware those metaphors don’t make sense.

Instagram Pretty

image

Going through some things and scrolling through social media is NOT helping. Why is everyone on everything every where just so fucking hot? Am I the only one that has to take like 40 selfies with specific lighting before I find one that’s just kind of decent enough for me to dare posting?

Maybe I need to hire a make up artist that does contouring,  or quit the open mic stuff and do the introverted writer thing full time. I don’t know,  I’m still mulling it over.  I think the last time I tried to send a sexy pic to my man I ended up using a filter so dark I’m sure he could barely make out my facial features. Anyway, it’s definitely not a good time in the world to have low self esteem because the hot bitch cup runneth over. Advice for the regular ass looking chicks out there? Flaunt your personality like a big booty ho and no one will even notice the difference. Worth it once you learn to perfect it…but still haven’t figured out how to capture all that personality in a Facebook profile pic.