new food post!

over at delicious ignorance. mmmmm, fooood.

read it. try it. love it.

we can only get so much from someone else

© amy winehouse, “help yourself”

basically.

just cuz i look like i have it together, it doesn’t mean i actually do have shit together. & if i do in fact have shit together, it doesn’t mean i wanna help you get yours together. sorry.

** the clarity edit:

. . . if i do in fact have shit together, it doesn’t mean i’m obligated to help you get yours together. it’s this simple: if i see where i’m needed, i’ll pitch in. but if you’re chillin hard without my input & don’t seem to have enough good sense to work at improvement of your situation, i’m staying right where i am. sorry.

i feel very protective of my dreams right now.

i’m not sharing with too many folks. that is, i’m not talking to anyone whom i know to be negative or whom i know for a fact doesn’t really know me. i can stare into a person’s blank face every day for nearly 4 years (like i do at work with some ppl) & know that they’ve no clue about how to treat me. & i am, for all intents & purposes, my dreams. whatever i conceptualize, whatever i decide to become, that’s me. that’s where i’m headed if i’m not there already. & if that person should treat my developing self poorly then how can i ever expect her or him to be good to me once i arrive at my destination? that’s got to be im-fucking-possible. i’m not buying that jack-nicholson-as-the-joker smile & hands open only to make mincemeat from my most tender parts.
my dreams are not meant to be picked apart or turned into a frankenstein monster by anyone except me. there will be no opportunities for detractors to take from me or lessen my potency. there is not any good reason for me to take my brand new dreams out of my pockets to show to/ share with any person who isn’t also nurturing a dream. & i don’t mean simply thinking of something to do with the rest of her or his life — i mean someone who is actively putting together the pieces of that one thing they’re meant (or are trying) to do w/ the rest of her or his life. i’m tired of being exposed to folks whose uncertainty about their own places in the world serves as a platform (or a castle tower) from where they pass judgment on everyone else’s situation. that mess is sickening, anti-productive, & a huge waste of my time.
in short, i’m not having this bullshit for much longer. it seems that there’s a grillion ways to take the piss out of the good thing someone else has got going, but not as many ways to push that good thing along. anyone who’s well versed in the pushing along & forward movement is welcome.
all others may fall by the wayside. period. i am speaking power to my situation, regardless of what anyone has to do or say about it.

addendum:
mel, post this on your mirror or something. happy birthday. stay motivated, beautiful, & strong. i love you to pieces.

maferefun sango!!!

kawo! kabiyesile!

thank you, baba, for sending my brother my way. i love love love LOVE that boy to pieces. thank you. we are each other’s cheer leader, each other’s comic relief, & most importantly we have a taciturn understanding that can be expressed simply by the raising of an eyebrow. my brother is so sharp, too. thank you for bringing a sharply dressed black man around me, one who actually compliments me and means it. he is not trying to sleep with me (not that i know of). he is socially conscious, and gives a damn about his folks. he will entertain my conversations about all things sociopolitical, & never once calls me ‘too smart.’ we crack nerd jokes & he never, ever, EVER tells me i think too much/ too hard.

i’m blessed to have a friend like vsf. i love that crazy child. i do.

adupe.

my personal style is evolving.

big earrings & shawls are a given.
but now i’m realizing what kind of denim i like, what fits best, etc.

& we aren’t gonna talk about my footwear situation. i don’t like buying expensive ass shoes, but my feet/ posture require them. ergonomically sound shoes for work aren’t cheap. the heels i do like? not cheap. sneakers that don’t make my feet cry out in cramping? not cheap at all.

so i guess i’d better hustle this money up, right? lol. i was doing some figuring. there’s not one single pair of shoes or sneakers i’ve been checking out that cost less than seventy dollars. i remember back in the days of parade of shoes (remember them?), i was racking up on stuff i could wear to work. now, it’s like earth or dansko… or nothing. i hate that, kinda. naturalizer isn’t cheap. new balance? not cheap. & let’s not discuss my love of nikes, which has resurfaced just as i’m too busy paying bills to cop a new pair every paycheck. this is annoying, at best.

i went to lane bryant the other day, tryna find some jeans. first of all, these motherfuckers are charging $50++ for polyester tunics. since when is that okay? second, what’s the deal w/ everything having a stupid permanent cuff or crease? can i just get some regular straight leg average-length dark fucking denim? something that isn’t uber super show-the-crack-of-my-ass low rise? & maybe, just maybe, are there wide-legged dress pants that don’t have a full-on natural waist? i’ve got a short torso. that shit doesn’t look right on me. gah.

if i had a sewing machine & enough time, i swear . . .

sometimes it seems that my style is being guided by the companies that make the clothes. i love old navy’s more grownup looking clothing; they stopped selling it in stores so i’m forced to do my shopping inside. whomever decided to remove the plus sizes from the stores is pretty much an idiot. there are plenty women who’ve not been able to try on the plus sized clothes simply because there was a 2 year (or more) test period where only certain stores carried these items. if you aren’t generally certain how the clothes fit you, how on earth are you gonna feel comfortable/ confident buying the shit online? i’m hoping to turn to more indie designers, or smaller apparel companies in the future. right now, though, i feel bound by my amount of disposable income in addition to the dress code at my job. it isn’t terribly strict, but some things aren’t okay.

but, as my personal style evolves, i’m better able to make smart choices. i know where to find the $10 jeans at ross and the cleverly hidden perry ellis trench coats at burlington. ;)

bargain fashionistas, stand up! i know it’s not right — someone probably lost their finger trying to make the anorak i just bought — but until i find better quality plus clothes in the thrift stores i frequent, & until i start making my own clothes, this is how it’s gonna be.

i haven’t been saying thank you

quite the way i should.

so let me put it like this here:

thank you everyone & everything on this here entire planet, in the universe, that ever was or will be.

thank you.

period.

i just had a great idea for a blog entry

when i was in the shower. something about how i’m realizing that people give academics & whomever else deemed as ‘experts’ all the power when it comes to discussing situations that they live every day.

on some, “how dare you question your doctor/ boss/ landlord/ the police/ anyone who’s got a higher degree than you (or a degree period)?”

granted, i know absolutely nothing about being a dentist so i follow my dentist’s instructions, but not without asking why or what certain procedures do.

*sigh*

i guess i’ll go back to bed & pray that these thoughts come back asap.

it goes deeper than

just hating one’s job. sometimes, the job manifests its destructive nature in how employees are treated. this post from yearning mice on fire more than explains the indoctrination that large companies (& even government entities, like the one where i work) drill into the heads of their employees. there’s a comply-or-die attitude that lots of employers seem to have. i’ve seen it everywhere from retail/ food service to non-profit environs.

this reflects exactly how i feel about the job i have now. really.

thanks to tenacious one for posting the link on her blog. (i’m digesting that transpolitics post. good GODDESS, it made my brain tingle!)

things i really love this week:

my new favorite post on one tenacious baby mama, which can be found right here.

birthday presents!!! (i never got a lot of presents as a kid, so when ppl give me stuff i am not only bowled over but i feel very magical & sparkly, in addition to overall special)

new music

sex*

an internet connection that works long enough for me to cop a new anorak

odara healthy hair food & various other items from chic afrique

my mama

marathon grill

the series of contradictions that make up my blog reading & life overall

my crazy ass, sweet, thoughtful, creative, unique, forever-looking-out-for-me friends

angela bofill’s 1st album ON VINYL (thank you, brian, SO very much!)

* i always love sex. this is nothing new. lol.

i don’t know what i wanna write about.

there’s so, so, so much.
the crush
work
the baby thing (again!), which probably just requires that i get crafty more often
the sense of urgency i feel every time someone asks me how old i am now
isiah thomas’ dumb ass
the mercury retrograde and the mars retrograde
my proclivity toward spending money instead of stacking it, & its direct relationship to stress
how much i’d rather be having sex than blogging (or anything else for that matter)
. . . yeah.

there’s a lot.

but i just paid my ‘lectric bill — the full amount!!!
about to look into that good gas bill, see if i can’t work out an auto debit thing
it’s all okay
i’ma be aight
i might even come to bklyn for the day on saturday . . .

i really, really want

some fuck me pumps.

i’m not joking. considering the fact that at age 27 i really don’t have the whole walking-in-high-heels thing down, it’ll be interesting when i find a pair of such shoes. cuz i’ll have to practice in them. a lot. sober. & never walk anywhere in them when i’m not 100%. it’ll take goo gobs of concentration. this will be interesting.

once i find a pair, of course, there will be photos. ;)

it’s so easy to make

one of those “oh this year i’m gonna ____________” posts, only to be disappointed in myself next year when i read it over. i know how that mess goes and i refuse to do that to my psyche. instead, i’m gonna lay it all out thusly:

if you called/ sent a text/ emailed/ sang/ clapped/ danced/ gifted or did anything else in honor of my birthday, i:

1) love
2) appreciate
3) am thankful for
4) am glad to know
5) owe my most sincere thanks to
6) am reminded why i continually fux with
7) hope to always be friends with
8) need to buy a drink for
9) probably need to spend more time with
10) just plain fucking HEART

you.

thank you. you rock. you are a superstar & SO wonderful for blessing me on my special day. i will return the favor, provided that i don’t actually forget your birthday. & even if i do, i’ma return the favor. because you’re an absolute pumpkin & deserve all that positivity returned to you ten thousand fold.

this was a day when i could look around & really feel the myriad ways in which i am blessed. i hope to continue to feel that until this particular revolution around the sun has completed & i begin the next. ecstasy, abundance & bliss. those are the things i want.

to quote cee-lo green:

put your finger in the air/ if you’re the one, girl

i am.

happy birthday to me!

eight random facts about me: the birthday edition

i was tagged by miss dark daughta. & dammit, i like these survey thingies so why not?

the rules, though i kinda love to bend or break rules:

Post the rules before you give the facts. Post eight random facts about yourself. At the end of your blog post, you need to tag eight people and list their names. Leave the people you tagged a comment on their blog, letting them know that they’ve been tagged.

these are things i have grown up about in the past 26.999999998 years. they’re not birthday-specific necessarily, but still the kind of thing you want to throw confetti at yourself about, non? definitely little (and big) reasons to be glad to be myself.

one: my love of language is a great source of my pride.
i was the only child in a house of pretty much grown ppl for the first 2 years of my life, & i most certainly took full advantage of that. i groomed myself to know what people were talking about, how to express myself, & never be at a loss for words. i was a rather articulate 3 year old, & one day i declared to my mother that i was gonna start reading. she didn’t believe me until i got stuck on a word & asked her how to pronounce it. as an adult, i am kind of a language whore. words are sooooo important to me! i like being able to express one idea in several ways. spanish is pretty much under my belt, so next come portuguese, yoruba, & probably akan or maybe dutch. i love words.

two: i used to hate my name.
i thought my life would be simpler, were i to have a ‘regular’ name like simone or allison. hell, i had a best friend named adina & i was jealous of her because at least she wasn’t [my name]. now i know better. who else would i be, except [my name]? i mean, really. as i got older, i was okay w/ my first name, since i felt that [diminutive nickname] wasn’t an acceptable nickname name. but a big point of contention was my middle name. i was named after my father in that respect, & having grown up essentially without him contributing positively or consistently to my life made me bitter. we’re not gonna get into the last name. i don’t hate it anymore. i’ve made my peace with it, it’s . . . mine just as much as it is my father’s or anyone else’s who has it. i’m okay w/ being myself on paper . . . & the racial ambiguity gets me some laughable reactions. definitely. lol.

three: i don’t genuinely know what it is to sense guilt about or be ashamed of myself.
that is, i’ve felt uneasy or embarrassed, but actual shame is something i’ve never felt. actual guilt? like, i shouldn’t have done that & didn’t enjoy it & don’t ever want to partake in it again because i never should have bothered guilt? you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. to coerce me into something has always been to frighten me into it, or to rationalize me into it. i’ve been apologetic if my actions have caused a result i didn’t intend, or if i’ve been completely misunderstood . . . but guilt & shame i don’t do. i’m thankful, really. that shit can be crippling.

four: i will give until it hurts.
i used to be mad about that & considered myself weak for it. but i’ve managed to discover something very important about being a giving person: giving until it hurts is only something to lament when you know you oughtn’t to begin with. that is, i know who deserves the best i have to offer — & those folks often give me the same. i am glad to say that i give when it’s okay to give. i’ve been blessed, fortunately, with reciprocity in that area of my life.

five: i was a virgin until age 19.
i knew about sex from reading informational books (not romance novels or anything), so my knowledge of STDs & other foolishness was pretty good for someone who thought you were supposed to make noises while fucking . . . even if your partner’s stroke was weak. even if you were too busy thinking about finding a job somewhere. lol! i was mature enough to realize that pleasure was supposed to be a bonus to the biological function of sex; as i’ve grown older / more mature, i use that as my guide. there are some things that simply won’t fly w/ me. waiting until i’d been on this planet almost two decades was good. had i really given myself the space to, i would have waited longer, most likely. but it’s okay. it’s all good. now look at me. i’m quite the pleasure-driven individual overall & it’s been really good for my sex life. yay me! i wish more folks would adopt a similar idea about sex. if it isn’t gonna be fully enjoyable, i don’t do it.

six: i love being single.
as much as i might say i want a man and/ or some babies, single womanhood (not living with anyone who came out of my womb or regularly copulates with me, any of that sort of breeding/ coupled up/ cohabitation stuff) has been exceptionally good to me. i think my creativity has been bolstered by not having to worry about anyone but myself. my deep desire for space & time to do my thing the way i do it has been really helpful. i feel like living with people (roommates especially, sometimes kids or an SO) puts me on stage. i have to rock the strongblackwoman veneer, be super proactive, etc. i hate that shit, & until i’m fully comfortable being my full self at least 20 of 24 hours per day i don’t really think i need a man or babies. hell, i don’t even want a pet. one of my houseplants is barely making it right now, cuz sometimes the high maintenance nurturing shit just isn’t fly to me all the time. lol.

seven: my love of clothing & footwear might put me in debt one day.
but that’s OKAY. cuz i’m a fan of the bargain shopping. or, the initially inexpensive items i find don’t get a 2nd thought. lol. i like pretty colors, nice fabrics (i can’t wear wool or any of the sweater stuff. *pout*), & find that seasonally i change my mind about what i want to look like. that’s neat. reinvention is key. renewal is natural. so, why not do it on all fronts? besides, i kinda love the compliments i get when i throw some fly shit together.

eight: the family i’ve chosen for myself is every bit as important as the one i was born into.
anyone who knows me is aware of my continual growth as a person with the help/ love/ support of the people who’re fortunate enough to be saved to the SIM card in my cell phone. my family, especially over the past year or so, has been a pillar when i really thought i was gonna lose my mind. i love my mom & sisters, my grandfather, my uncles & cousins (there are a LOT of cousins) . . . but none of them will ever make me feel like i’m unloved/ lost without their presence. i used to feel kind of weird about loving my non-family ppl as much as i do my blood relations, but i’ve gotten over it. actually, in a lot of instances the family i’ve chosen has done more for me (in an emotional support/ mental stimulation sense) than my mama & them. i have some of the best, most wonderful, kind, giving, fantastic, just plain fly ass people as friends. i am so fortunate. i love them all so much. i love knowing that i can unflinchingly call a few women my sisters, & that the feeling is never gonna be one-sided. i’m blessed. i could sit here & name their names, but . . . honestly, the most high knows who they are. men & women alike who have really, truly, for real been good to me. thank god for every last one of them.

i tag tia, aj, atlanta, melissa, riley (does he even read this blog?), & um… kenya. i would also tag omi & dark daughta, but they’ve already done it. lol. i guess i’ll have to carry it over to myspace or facebook to grab more victims?

whatever. if you don’t do this, you’re just depriving me the opportunity to get deeper into your business. ;)

something that amazes me about life:

people really think that you’re spoiled if you ask for specifically what you want, & anticipate at least coming close to getting it. that worries me. why am i spoiled just because i’m trying to make some things happen for myself, things that i want/ need/ desire? that makes zero sense to me. i don’t care if i want thigh-high socks from american apparel or a damn mosaic made from recycled glass . . . if i want it, & i can make it so, i’m going to make sure i have it. peace of mind, a happy family, new sneakers, a meal at brasserie perrier . . . whatever the fuck i want. i’m not saying that just because i want something it should be so. i’m saying that if i’m working toward something, or creating the conditions for something to happen/ come into my possession, why on earth shouldn’t i expect it to be so?

i just don’t get it. maybe gratification is something i’m only supposed to believe in if it’s delayed (ie the idea of heaven being far away as presented by the big three). i don’t feel that way. i think that’s a dumb idea. there is pleasure here. there is bliss here. there are blessings here. there is satisfaction right here. of course, we suffer. but some of the pain we experience can be alleviated or removed altogether by the same hands we use to create it. the widespread misery of humankind, to me, cannot be defined simply as god’s will. i mean, do human beings not have their own will? do people not possess the ability to recognize wrongdoing/ suffering & then do something about it? however small, you can make an effort.

maybe the easiest thing to do is to lie down & take it. that is, pray for whatever & fail to put forth any effort. but in that book some of y’all rely on exclusively, the bible? i’m pretty sure that somewhere in there it says that faith without works is dead. so . . . like i said to R the other night, being religious is easy. it’s being a person of faith that’s hard.

so, i said all that to say this: have what you want. be balanced enough to see what work you’ve got to do to achieve it. it’s that much sweeter when you get your blessings here, now.

if you know and/ or love me


you probably know my birthday is coming up this sunday, october 7.
if you are able to or interested in gifting me, i’m into the following items/ concepts:

loose leaf & other fancypants teas (i.e. tazo, yogi, revolution, mighty leaf, stash)
inexpensive, yet tasty wine. i’m partial to petals, gerwurztraminer, riesling, & pinot noir. & don’t forget that fu-ki plum! good god.
music!!! i still don’t have the new talib kweli. & i *heart* vinyl. i need angela bofill, as much stevie as possible (i have hotter than july & songs in the key of life already)… old soul records are a plus. anything by the police on vinyl is also a major plus. i might mess around & marry you behind that. ;)
gift certificates to whole foods or trader joe’s
socks in interesting or bizarre color combinations
PENS!!! nice fancy ballpoints.
anything from duross & langel
supplies from coastalscents.com
massages
quirky, unique pieces of art that i can keep in my home (see: joshua mays)
houseplants — preferably succulents, like jade or aloe (they’re hard to kill. lmao.)
daffy’s or old navy gift cards
jewelry. god, do i love earrings. you can make or buy those, it matters not.
peacock feathers
acrylic or cotton yarn in pretty colors
INCENSE. nag champa, honey, cinnamon, the moon, triple amber (i can’t find it anywhere), red rose… i love incense
7 day candles. preferably orisa candles. ;)

i won’t go on any more about what would be good gifts. these are just ideas if you wanna give me something & don’t know what to give.


um… otherwise, get the glitter & construction paper out
prepare your vocal chords for singing
get the thumbs ready for texting
draft your emails now
generally, just get ready to help me celebrate myself. this is the one day a year when i’m “supposed to” be fully self-indulgent & into my own desire to the point of distraction. but a big part of that involves YOU, dear friend. kick it w/ me. come act silly.

email: sechita(at)gmail(dot)com (you can find my paypal that way, as well as my amazon wishlist)

xoxoxo