BACARDI Rum Room Event Rundown

Last weekend, I attended the BACARDI Rum Room event downtown. And yes, it was awesome! 

There was something for all the Atlanta socialites: endless selfie opportunities, music, and of course, DRINKS! However, being the nerd that I am, I enjoyed learning more about the history of Bacardi and the art of aging rum. 

This man is David Cid, the BACARDI Global Rum Master.  He talked to the media about the history of  the Premium Collection which includes  BACARDÍ Añejo Cuatro, BACARDÍ Reserva Ocho and BACARDÍ Gran Reserva Diez. I learned some cool things about the aging of rum. Did you know that most of the Bacardi rum is aged in barrels in Puerto Rico? Did you also know that a rum can taste two times its age if it is aged in a tropical climate? 

This installation does a great job of explaining how rum is aged. Once you understand it, you can really appreciate how precious every drop of rum we use in our cocktails is. 

Speaking of cocktails, there were a number of different BACARDI cocktails for attendees to try. Above is the Ocho Old Fashioned, which included the BACARDI Reserva Ocho Rum, syrup, and bitters. 

The VIP area had the feel of a really cool, old library. There, media and VIP guests had the opportunity to participate in a rum tasting. There was a cigar demo as well as live BACARDI bottle engravings. My bottle says LOVE, HOLLY. 

The VIP area also included artwork from Oriel Ceballos and, later in the evening, there was a performance by Swiss Beats. 

Are you ready to get your rum on? You can visit the BACARDI website here.

Loneliness Loves Company

Sickles called me again on "mistake". I was at home working on a script when I got another phantom Duo call. I answered it and it was him. He told me that he hadn't meant to call me. "Awkward," he said, shaking his head into the camera. Yeah, it was a little awkward. But only because the last time he called me on "mistake" he was jacking off into his phone camera.
I hung up the phone but was unable to shake the sight of him. He looked tired and a little older. He also looked burdened  and sad. Against my better judgement, I called him back.

"Are you okay?" I ask him. 

He was walking around his apartment, aimlessly. "Yeah. Why?"

"I don't know. You look a little sad." 

"Oh naw, that's only because I just got through smoking weed."

"Oh." I'm not a smoker. Do people typically look sad after they smoke?

"Do you feel okay?" I inquire. 

"Yes," he answers. 

"Have you been praying?" I question. 

Yes," he responds. 

He then switches up the convo. "You look pretty."

I identify this immediately as BS. My face is fatter than the last time he saw me, and I was wearing my sleep bonnet. 

"I have my bonnet on Sickles," I respond. 

"Yeah, but it looks like you are ready to take it off and let your hair down." You see, Sickles has always been a huge fan of my fro. 

It was then that I wished him well and cut the conversation short. I'm lonely. He is obviously lonely, and loneliness LOVES company. Especially this time of year when it is cold outside and everyone is boo'ed up. But I'm too old for cuff games and situationships that are going to go nowhere. I have to be more intentional and not fall in to talking to someone because they are interested and I am available. This could mean that I am alone and lonely for a long time. I have to believe that there is something better for me out there. There better be! I'm wasting perfectly good cuff time wishing for something real. 

The Universal Aunty

What is youth?
This is a question I have been going over again and again in my head for the past couple of months, ever since I allowed myself to be aware of the fact that, in December, I will be turning 35. And after much deliberation, I have decided that youth is being able to live as carefree as possible without the fear that any little decision can result in a disaster that you can not rebound from.
When I was in my 20s, I lived in a never-ending, 24-hour cycle of consistent fear. What if I lost my job? What if I lost my apartment? What if I was unable to pay my bills? What if I lost the small amount of clout that I'd built for myself? Guess what? All of the above happened. And since I felt like I was 105 at 25, I slipped into a black hole that has been very hard to climb out of. I didn't understand what it meant to have youth on my side! When you are young, you can lose everything and make enormous mistakes. Then, after you've cried and sent out a series of emotional Tweets, you can dry your eyes and use that youthful energy to start all over. And what I know now is that you will do that over and over again until you end up someplace that sticks and that is called life. I didn't understand this as a young woman so now, as a sorta-young woman, I am a few steps behind the game. But it is all good. It has been put on my heart to warn those beautiful melanated beauties behind me of this part of the game that no one shared with me. I have Christened myself The Universal Aunty.
Yesterday, I went to brunch with Haynes and we were seated next to two adorable little sisters. They informed us that they were 25. I told them to drink more water because 30s acne is real. I told them to go on birth control, quit their job if they hate it, and travel. Why? BECAUSE THEY ARE YOUNG! They should be building experiences, not chaining themselves down to a way a life that can be snatched away like I did. Know this while you are busy knowin' stuff: life has its own plans for you.
Recently, one of my rideshare drivers told me she was 23 with no kids. I told her that after she dropped me off at my destination, she needed to get on the freeway and drive to Miami. I told her not to worry about money, she could sleep in the car. She said that that sounded nice, but I could tell that she was not going to do it. There is something about liking access to your phone and good credit that will forever keep some of us in chains.
Five years and two months from 40, I am just now understanding this, and I intend to use this last bit of my sorta-youth to learn, live, and shine like it is 2009...minus my micro braids and crush on Nelly.

Mourning

For the past few months, I have been in a state of mourning. It was hard to identify. I was feeling emotional and actually had to sit down with myself and figure out why I was feeling the way that I was feeling. And after a few nights of lying still and meditating on things (which was exhausting) I realized that I was mourning a number of deaths that I have had to deal with over the past four years.
As you know, my grandmother died, my mother died, my college best friend died as well as my best friend from high school. Obviously, I mourned the loss of these important people in my life.
But after some deep reflection, I also unveiled that I am in mourning over some friendships and connections that have died. Some of which I don't even know why they faded. Others I am very aware, understand the necessity of why they were dissolved, but still miss the friendship. I miss Brownie. I miss FeFe. I miss talking to Lauren on a regular basis.
On top of this, I miss my previous life. Once upon a time in my 20s, I used to love to go out on the town and hang out. A mixture of my obligations and on and off depression have exterminated my desire to get up, put on a cute dress, and go mix and mingle. Thinking about all of the hustle and bustle makes me want to take a nap, but I do miss going out and having fun.
P and I recently talked about college and how we missed just being young and partying. There is something to be said about being a 20-something on your own for the first time. Everything old under the sun is new to you, and each day is a breeding ground for new experiences. Aging comes with a certain amount of fear. I mourn no longer being carefree. I am now very careful.
Now that I have identified the cause of my mourning, my next step is figuring out my next steps, which is kind of exciting. Even though I am not where I want to be, I understand that I am in a place to define the next chapters in my life, and this makes me hopeful. I won't have time to mourn my past. I will be too excited about my future.

The End of Third Ryan

It is now fall. My lukewarm hot girl summer has come to an official end along with my pointless, going-nowhere crush on Third Ryan. You remember him? The nice guy from my writing group? Well, he has a crush on one of my good friends and that is simply a road I would rather not go down again. I've been going down it since the 6th grade afterall.

I am so, so tired of investing in the time needed to get to know men who aren't interested. I mean truly, I am exhausted. I could fall asleep right now while typing this post! And what I am even more tired of than that is the unhealthy way that I deal with unrequited love. I don't pray it away or dance it away like Solange. No. I transfer it away to another unavailable man like a loser. 

So, once Third Ryan casually proclaimed his love for my friend during a cute conversation that I had thought was otherwise going well, I decided to start the transference process. Sadly, I decided to transfer it to another man in writing group, Jack. Jack is annoying but hot. To even my own surprise I could not sustain the crush, so I transfered my now two-times-over RyanJack love to a man named MaxTheBody, a male bodybuilder that I found during a thirst search on Instagram. My crush on him will end soon enough, just like my crushes on that IG male dancer and the IG fetish trainer that makes adult movies with his wife. 

Not too long ago, someone asked me if I never found love, would God be enough. I originally said no, but I am parachuting towards 40 at a speed you won't believe. I don't think I have a choice! Hopefully God likes long hugs and slow dancing to 90s R&B. I have always wanted a boyfriend that could do a box step to Forever My Lady by Jodeci. 

The Question

Last night, I went to an ice cream social for Christian singles. I know, it shoulds hella lame, but it was actually a really good time with good people. I had some good lactaid ice cream and a fruit popsicle that was absolutely delish! But during the after ice cream conversation a question was posed to me: would I be okay if I never, ever got married? Would God be enough?
Perhaps I am immature in my Biblical studying and understanding, but the answer for me was a big fat no! Not only would I not be okay with it, but I would demand answers! How come I would be chosen to live a life of loneliness? How come other less cool chicks got a man while I got a rock? I would also request that God send me an HR sheet outlining how he came to his decision and what the criteria is for a woman that gets to have companionship.
"You wouldn't be alone," one of the ice cream socialists said. "You would have your friends and God."
Okay, got it. But how can they not see that that is different than having a tangible person next to you who loves you and that is going to live life with you; that knows you and cares for you? I like the idea of someone living life at my side.
They say that there is someone for everyone, but as I get older, I see that that is not true. I have dope lady friends in my life that aren't in a relationship and the possibility that they ever be in one continues to get slimmer with every passing day. And while they are waiting, their fertility window is closing, sending them into this weird, anxious panic and frustration. It's hurtful, and even more painful when you realize that there is a possibility that God just doesn't have a person for you. You don't get love. Billions of other people do on the planet, but you don't. For a woman in her 30s, the idea of eternal loneliness is very real, but it somehow becomes cruel when you add the possibility that God just doesn't want you to have anybody.
I am working on my relationship with God, but I also want a relationship with God, and I think that is fair and human. Hopefully He is in agreement. Time will tell.

Lady Lumps pt 1

The other day I woke up with a pain in my left boob, the problem boob.
I got up and went to the bathroom to investigate the situation to find that I had some type of lump above my areola.
I was not surprised. My left breast has given me nothing but problems since I was 13-years-old. Unusual sensitivity in my breast caused me to have to go to the doctor with my mom when I was in the 8th grade, only to find that I had a bacterial infection. I had to take pills, and since then, my left boob has been saggier and considerably more pancakey than my right one.
Now I know some of you all are reading this and holding your breath. I know what you are thinking: The Big BC. But I was not thinking that at the time. I was thinking, Great, more s&*t that I have to deal with. Keep in mind, I was also not completely awake. I rolled my eyes at my boob and went back to sleep.
Now, when I woke up for real, cancer was most definitely on my mind. I went back to the mirror to study the situation, rubbing the lump and to me, it didn't feel like cancer. I, of course, am going off of a breast cancer display that I felt on in college during some type of AKA sorority breast cancer workshop. A breast cancer survivor had a display of a set of breasts and told me to press down on both with two fingers and tell her when I felt something. It took a while before I felt something small and sharp deep in the display breast.
"That's the lump," she said with a stern, straight face. I catalogued that in my mind for a moment such as the one I didn't know I would be having 14 years later and went back to my dorm with my friends to get ready for a party.
My mind was racing a mile a minute. This bump on my breast hurt! I remembered a doctor in a Lifetime movie telling a patient in the movie that breast cancer didn't hurt. I exhaled a sigh of relief.
But then I panicked! That was a made-for-TV movie, not real life!
Then I remembered, when I went to Planned Parenthood for a pelvic exam, I was given a breast exam. The nurse said I had healthy breast tissue. Again, relief.
Then I panicked! That was six years ago!
But wait, I thought, I am only 34. Relief.
Then came the panic. I read an article not too long ago about how women younger than 40 and dudes are getting increased breast cancer diagnoses.
I decided to do what I do best: ignore the problem. However, that went out the window an hour later when the bump on my boop started leaking.