Risky Go Night- Night (Another Risky Business Story)

I haven't been able to talk to Risky lately because she has been unrealistically tired. She has been donating a lot of plasma at a variety of different donation centers, which I am not sure is okay. To do so, she has to constantly make sure her iron levels are up, which is very stressful and takes a lot of work. Because of this, whenever I call, she is always asleep. The last time we spoke, I told her that this was just for the short term and to power through. She then told me she is treating this like a real job. 

First off, I just don't see plasma donation as a long-term solution to financial problems. But to hear her say that it is was disheartening because it means she is giving up on her goal of getting into another residency program. I mean, this is her dream and she is already an M.D. Is she going to hang that up to become a full-time plasma pusher??

We are both 41. I guess it is time to get real. We are either going to be on course to retire comfortably in nearly 30 years, so we should be preparing to collect cans, dumpster dive, and donate plasma for the rest of our existences. If the dream stages of our lives are not outright over, the buzzer going off is dangerously close. 

Honestly, if I had any sense I'd be thinking like Risky. I don't like anything having to do with blood, but I could see myself dancing on a street corner for change as long as the weather was good. At least then I could afford snacks. But I'm stubborn. My desire to be a writer is literally like a book I can't put down. If they eventually find me dead from old age in a tent city, please believe I will laying on top of my backpack full of short stories. 

If I can catch Risky while she is awake, I will try to give her a friendly push back in the direction of a residency again. We all have to do things we don't want to do when we are desperate for cash, but the idea that she would give up on her calling to donate plasma is bloody insanity! 

Seeking Charles Christmas 5: Guy Of My Dreams

I know I told you all that I wrapped up my crush on Charles Christmas when I realized we would never be; that I put my love for him in a box and returned him to the world, and I had. But because of him, for the first time in a long time, I woke up with a smile. 

I had a dream that I was on a city bus and Charles Christmas passed me a note expressing his love and desire to buy me nice things. Next thing I know, we are at the mall, and he is getting me expensive gifts. At some point, we end up at the MAC counter where I got a makeover. He then bought me as much lipstick as my arms could carry to the cash register. After that, we walked around the mall holding hands. 

Like I said, I woke up smiling. My heart was full of love. The dream felt very real but I know it wasn't because sadly, there are not hundreds of tubes of MAC lipstick in my purse. I rolled over and went on Instagram to find a story from Charles, posted earlier today. He was at a yoga class. How cute is that? 

I wonder what he'd say if he knew what I think of him? I'd like to believe he'd be flattered but in reality, I think he'd block me from all socials. I'm no dummy. I know he is out of the question for my real life. I guess he is quite literally the guy of my dreams. 

The Gabe Factor

In another post sometime I will tell you how my search for Patty, my 8th grade best friend who used to date Charles Christmas, led me to having a mistaken conversation with Other Patty, another Patty I went to school with that wasn't my Patty. 

The convo was fruitful. She told me what she was up to and she also confirmed that Gabe, this boy we went to school with, somehow got involved with drugs and died. I recently even talked to my aunty and cousin who knew him and his family. His death shocked everyone. 

Honestly, I can't even invision Gabe smoking a cigarette. He was cute. He was funny. He was bright. He could sing. He and some other boys were in a singing group. I remember they sang  "All My Life" by KC and JoJo at a middle school assembly. We were not good friends, but we once did a project together where we had a spirited discussion on when it's appropriate to use an acronym which, oddly enough, is a debate I've had many times over the years. Other Patty said she felt he turned to drugs because his music career didn't work out. 

I'm not sure if this is true, but the thought it might be led me to have a conversation with Lisha about how we don't express to kids the importance of having a reliable and attainable plan B. No one knows better than me how hard it is when your dream life doesn't work out. How can we prepare kids for this without crushing their goals? I say kids because this definitely isn't something you want to start considering at 20 when your back is against the wall. 

Honestly, I'm not sure doing so would even matter. Telling me I should have a solid plan B would not have caused me to stop striving towards being a writer. Like I said, I didn't know Gabe closely, but I'm sure that having a plan B would not have stopped him from singing. The hard truth is that you have to take life when it comes how it comes, prepared or not. That's pretty much a golden rule. There's no acronym for that. 

Starved 2: The Thirsty Games

I had another weird dream that I feel illustrates how starved I am for affection. Apparently, I was part of some type of sexual relay race. The dream kind of played out like an episode of The Amazing Race. Couples would do freaky stuff (my memory is hazy, but I remember one couple doing a naked yoga class), then they would run and pass the baton on to the next person. I felt super excited in my dream, eager to see what my thing was going to be. But when the baton got to me, of course, I had to do all this really hard stuff to get moving. I recall having to take a car off a tow truck. Then I had to go to a department store to find something sexy to wear. Even in my dream department store, there was a very limited plus-size section. Then I had to run across town, all while still being excited for what was to come, but what was to come never came. By the time I showed up winded and overworked to my little situation, I breathlessly opened the door, then woke up! I even get screwed in my dreams while trying to get screwed! Plies wasn't around this time, but the naked yoga couple was a married couple I went to college with. Either my subconscious is begging me to find a partner, or this is all a side effect of watching nude scenes in Tubi movies. 

Doesn't It Feel Good To Pay Less?

I had an amazing, silly dream the other night. 

I had a dream that I was walking through an outdoor mall and came across a Payless shoe store. I couldn't believe it! I walked through the door to find a huge, clean, fully-stocked Payless that looked a lot like the Payless that used to be near my house. 

"Hello, ma'am! Are you okay?" the clerk asked from behind the counter. I was literally standing in the middle of the floor with my mouth open wide and my arms extended. 

"I can't believe it," I said, elated. "All the Payless stores closed where I am from!" I cried. 

The clerk smiled. "Oh wow! Well, we are still open."

I was overwhelmed by joy! Immediately, I ran over to the aisle that had my shoe size. I literally grabbed as many pairs of shoes that I could carry, then dumped them at the checkout counter. At this point, there were other people in the store staring at me. Once I was done finding shoes for myself, I went to the children's section and tried to remember what sizes my niece and nephew wore. Then I grabbed all of those shoes and dumped them at the register. Just as I was about to pay, a deliveryman walked in and began to hang purses around the store. The moment he was done, I grabbed as many of those as I could and dumped them on the counter. The other customers in the store were growing visibly impatient. 

"I want all of this!" I exclaimed. 

I woke up, heart pounding, looking around my bed for my new Payless purchases which, of course, were not there. 

Then, just today, I had a dream during a nap that I was at a Disney park with my family. We were all hanging out in our hotel room when I got a call from Kinfolk. He wanted to let me know that he was at the same Disney park and wanted to meet me. He gave me his address, which I don't remember which sucks, because I heard that when you see numbers in your dreams, you should play them as lottery numbers. 

Anywho, my nephew and I got on a trolley to go meet Kinfolk in the town square. Everyone was so happy around us. We went and ordered food, and Kinfolk and my nephew went to a buffet line. I got annoyed with my nephew because he brought back a literal basket of shrimp pasta. After we ate, we walked around and window shopped for a while when I saw it to the left of me: a brand new Payless. There were huge glass windows and it was way more fancy than any Payless I ever saw. I ran towards it, but woke up before I could go inside. 

I am not sure what all of this means. I am hoping that it means that Payless is coming back with flagship stores. I would be the first one in line! 

Post Traumatic Nephew Syndrome

I have been having weird dreams lately that take place at my high school. In them I am being taunted and jeered, just like the bad old days. In one dream, I am walking down one of the hallways alone singing: "I am Holly. It is just me. I am so far behind, I should just be." I figured that these dreams were a result of my general anxiety and damage from high school. Now I think that my nephew is causing them.

Lately, he has been getting bullied on the school bus. Some little girl calls him names, hits him, and most recently ripped his report card that he was so excited to show us. Then some other boy just straight up hit him in the face! As a result, the bus driver gave my nephew an assigned seat near her, as if he was the issue. I think that this has triggered me and is causing my subconscious to go spiraling back to when I was in school. 

One reason why I never wanted kids is because I didn't want to relive how hard being one was. My weight was a constant source of ridicule, all the way up to my young adult years, but being in school was the worst! My whole existence seemed to be a joke for everyone, and no adult ever stepped up to help me. Being a kid was a very lonely experience. 

So when I see my nephew pouting over someone hurting him, it pisses me off and sends me free falling back to adolescence. My brother said he is going to teach my nephew to fight, but why does that even have to be the solution? Wouldn't it be easier for parents to teach their kids not to be a$$holes? 

When I was a kid, I used to fantasize about a world where I could be my binge-reading, fat self without other kids having something to say. That was over 30 years ago and it seems that things have only gotten worse. I guess that warm, accepting world only exists in my dreams. 

To Kiss Perchance To Dream

I am lonely. 

I know, this isn't a newsflash. It's just that now my loneliness seems to be creeping into my dreams, the one place where I got a break from being brutally aware that I am single and torpedoing towards middle age. 

As you know, yesterday was the Super Bowl, and I could not have cared less. Football has never been my thing, but I do think the cheerleaders are cool and I wanted to see Usher perform. Unfortunately, football had to be played first, so I dozed off listening to my brother hoot and holler at the TV while scarfing down some of his homecooked wings. During that brief half of an hour that I was asleep I had an interesting dream. 

I dreamed that I was at a high school football game with Hunter, a boy that used to date my best friend Joyce in middle school. He was a grown-up version of the 12-year-old him. He was tall and dark like I remember, and his gold-framed glasses gave him away immediately. My consciousness seemed to be crashing a conversation we had already been having in the dreamsphere. 

"Kiss me!" I begged him as we sat in the stands. "Please kiss me!" 

"No," he said, shaking his head in annoyance. 

"Okay, well can I kiss you?" I compromised. 

"No!" He was getting agitated because he was trying to watch the game. He had on a polo with the collar popped and some khakis. Man, I was so into him in middle school, even though he was dating Joyce. Even then, I had a thing for blerds, especially blerds that for some reason wanted to be thugs. 

Through my dream, I could feel that the desire to kiss him was incredibly strong. I sat next to him on the bleachers, just staring at his lips. 

"Stop being thirsty!" my old middle school friend Kayla shouted at me. Kayla would have totally said that to me in real life. And I knew she was right, but I kept staring at Hunter, hoping he would break and turn and French me. It didn't happen. I woke up in time for the half-time show. 

This is the most aggressive of a series of dreams that I have had like this over the past few months. Usually a man from man's past, like from college or something, pops up into one of my dreams. I am usually freaking out about life and they hug me or hold my hand. The one where dude held my hand, I'm not going to lie, I woke up crying. And I know that dreams aren't supposed to mean what they seem like they mean at face value, but this seems quite self-explanatory: I'M LONELY! 

Even with this being the case, a part of me believes that being single is better than being with someone. IG makes relationships seem like they suck. For now, I have to settle for begging for affection from someone I'm not with in my dreams. 

Black Doug Funnie and the Fight for Love

I have been dreaming a lot about men lately. P says it is because I am horny, but I don't think that is what it is. In these dreams, I am just talking to these men on some getting to know you, getting to know all about you type of stuff. Last night's dream was no different. 

Do you believe that God communicates with you through dreams? I do. So as a single woman dreaming about men, I am trying to pay extra attention to what God may be trying to say. I am in no way a dream interpreter, but I am going to try to figure out what He was trying to say in the dream that I had last night. 

Okay, so in the first part of the dream I am some type of Fear Factor death match with zombies and Jason and Freddy kinds of characters. After fighting tooth and nail, I make it out victorious. And I mean, I was fighting; punching, kicking, clawing, and even roundhousing these monsters. I think that this is representative of being single in Atlanta for over 15 years. I mean, can you think of anything scarier?

After I won the battle, I ended up in the lobby of my grandmother's old retirement home. I think that this is representative of my fears of being old and alone. There was a group of people hanging out in the lobby, and I was waiting for the elevator to go up to see my grandmother. I think that this represents how I often wish I could ask her for her advice. 

While I was waiting, a man taps me on the shoulder and asks me if I'm single. And I am like, "Yeah." He asks me how old I am and I tell him. Then he tells me how old he is, and I don't recall the age, but I know he was younger. Sigh. What I think God is telling me here is to not disregard the tenderonies even though He knows that I would like a man my age or older but hey, you can't argue with God. 

Talking to this man, I felt very happy and loved and at peace. He got on the elevator with me and my aunt, who appeared out of nowhere, and he was talking to her. I think God is reassuring that whoever this mystery man is, he will get along with my...interesting family. 

The thing that I remember most about this guy is that he looked like a Black version of Doug Funnie from the hit '90s Nickelodeon show "Doug". He even had on the same outfit and everything! And in my dream, I just felt like he was so adorable. 

P once told me that your dreams are not about what they seem to be about on the surface. I don't think this is true for me because God knows that I am not good at riddles. If He wants to give me a message, He knows He has to give it plain and simple. Hopefully, God is saying that my man is a loveable nerd, possibly born in the '90s, who will love me like Doug loved Patti. So now, my eyes are super peeled for this dream lover. If you run across a big-nosed Black man in a sweater vest and khaki shorts, send him my way. I'm trying to see something...

Love and Middle Age 3: The Story of Stupid

In my recent conversations with TAFKAS, he told me stories of his friends and their unrequited loves. And the message that I took from these stories is that you should let people know how you feel when you have the chance. This is a very, very dangerous message for me because I just might do it which, in my case, is the easiest, quickest, safest way to embarrass myself. 

When I was in college, I had a crush on this basketball player and literally wrote him a 4-page letter and enclosed it with a kiss. Well, I didn't actually kiss it. My friend AJ did because my lips were chapped. I then doused the letter in Victoria's Secret body spray before putting the letter on this windshield. Luckily, God woke me up in a panic the next morning and I was able to run outside and retrieve it. THANK GOD! If he would have gotten that letter I have no doubt that he would have HUMILIATED ME! I would have had to move back to Atlanta and live under an alias. 

Then there was the Sigma that I wrote an erotic poem for. I read the poem to a couple of my co-workers and they gave me positive feedback which should have been my first clue that I was spearheading into a no-bueno situation. Luckily, Tortilla was there to bring me back to life, back to reality. "Don't message this to him. Don't," she said in a very stern voice which was odd, because her voice is usually so sweet that it sometimes sounds like she is singing when she talks. "If you ever get the urge to send this to him, send it to me, and I will respond like I am him, okay? Promise?" I promised, and again thanked God for having good friends. 

And then there are these two men at my church, I will call them Thing 1 and Thing 2. The Things are so nice to me and they love God and they are both hot in their own way. When I talk to them it is very, very difficult not to kiss them. This should tell you how hard I am crushin', because I think that kissing is disgusting! "Don't kiss him", my friend Ken said about one of the guys. I didn't tell her about the other one because I assumed the response would be the same. Again, thank God for good friends. 

But of late, I have been depressed, hungry, tired, sad, alone, and feeling like I am on an island. All of these things are the recipe for me doing something potentially stupid. I mean 4-page letter kind of stupid. Today I fell asleep while I was working and dreamed that I was making out with new crush (Do you see how kissing of some sort is usually the foreshadowing to these crises?) at my dead Great-Grandmother's house. It felt like I was really there! Family Matters was on the TV. Nana loved that show! This is not good because I believe that dreams have meaning...I am just not equipped to tell you what they are. If I had to guess what this dream was telling me, it would be that my deceased Great-Grandma was on board with me reaching out to this man that I don't really know and who doesn't know me. My inner me, which is consistently wrong, is telling me to reach out to him. 

Y'ALL PLEASE PRAY THAT I CAN MAKE IT TO THERAPY NEXT WEEK WITHOUT MAKING A COMPLETE ASS OF MYSELF!! If I can't get a grip, I will become one of TAFKAS's tragic stories. I am well on my way. 

The Cappin' Captain

I went to school with some real bosses. Pharmacists. Doctors. Lawyers. Business owners. Materially, I do not have as much as many of the people that I graduated with and, admittedly, being what I consider a "have not" played into my not wanting to go to my 10-year reunion with my friend DZ five years ago; played into my insecurity and anxiety. I don't have a $500,000 home or a luxury car. What would I tell people about my life? How could I explain to people that in the 10 years that it took for them to become "rich", I was kind of lost in the world, essentially, with my degree and everything I had ever written? If anyone were to ask me what I was doing at the time professionally, a common question at homecoming, I imagined myself screaming. I imagined myself crying. I imagined myself dropping dead. But one thing that never occurred to me to do was lie.

X lies. X lies big time. X lies to the point that it is almost laughable. If X had seven twins and thirty personalities, X still could not have accomplished everything that X says that X has. And these are not little white lies. These are huge, traceable, and, at times laughable lies. It has gotten to the point that folks are starting to figure this out about X and now have to cross-reference with their circles and contacts if what X is saying is true. Or sorta true. Or complete fiction. 

X is fun. X is funny. X is a good friend to X's friends, but X is also a mystery. A real head-scratcher. For although it has been confirmed that X's resume is about as good as a penny with a hole in it, X still somehow displays the financial fruits of this invisible labor. This, in turn, has turned people who know X into professional hypothesizers. Is X the bastard child of an African prince? Did X win the lottery? Is X an art thief? A Narco? A scammer? I mean, what?! People can't wrap their minds around it! But I can. 

Being completely honest opens you up to judgment and who wants that? Not I said the cat! But lying is exhausting and troublesome. You have to be lightning fast, ready to cover up a previous lie with another one; sidestepping questions and accusations. I am not lightning fast. I am molasses slow. I'd have to come clean after one day of pulling everyone's leg. X has been at it for almost 20 years! Kinfolk always tells me that the grass is not as green as it looks with a lot of our old classmates which is great, because I've never liked grass. DZ would say it is simple as standing in your truth. If I were close enough to X, I would tell X the jig is up and to exit the fairytale into reality. Homecoming is all love, and everyone has their own BS. I'd encourage X to sit next to me on the astroturf and have some spilled tea with me. It doesn't pay to lie, and that's truth. 

Sleep Fighting

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I love sleeping. I mean, love it. Like most people love their kids or ice cream. Yet lately, my sleep has been spotty at night due to weird dreams. 

Like most people sleeping during the pandemic, I often dream that I go somewhere, like the grocery store or out with friends, and realize that I don't have my mask on and that I am breathing the Rona-infected air. I feel like that dream is pretty self-explanatory. Dreams that I am having more frequently include my ex-friend ______.

I have not talked to _____ in years. ______ and I used to be besties, but now our communication doesn't go any further than picture likes on social media. ______ has made it clear, through their silence, that they no longer want to have a friendship with me. I say that I am okay with it. I have prayed about it. But truth be told, I am still hurt over it while social media pictures show ______ out and about and living life not worried at all about me. 

Over the past few nights, I have been having dreams, taking place in different places and settings, where ______ and I get into blowout arguments and fights. For the most part, I can not remember what ______ and I are fighting about when I wake up, but last night was different. I dreamed that _______ and I were at some party, and ______ got in my face, screaming, saying that there were five reasons that we were no longer friends. The only one I can remember was my being too fat and ugly. This was interesting. Obviously, I don't think these things about myself. But I did often feel that _______ felt this way around me. We went to the mall once together and ______ tried to keep a distance between the two of us so that  no one would think we knew each other. I remember this day clearly because my feelings were low key hurt and I got a really cute pair of earrings from Forever21. 

I have never been good at interpreting dreams. But maybe God is telling me to get ready to fight off negativity in the new year. I don't know. I think I'm going to sleep on it. 

Much Needed Job and Goal Inspiration

If you are anything like me, you have hoping and wishing and praying for something or someone to breathe life into your career. The exhaustion of not only looking for work but looking for something that won't make you miserable to go to everyday is overwhelming! So I thought that I would share some tips with you from James Rosseau, a Fortune 100 Exec and Christian hip-hop artist/producer, that inspired me.

1. Embrace your passion. Don’t discount your dreams. Return to that childlike fascination you once had and find a way to spend your work and life passionately.

2. Perform to progress versus perfection. Don’t become paralyzed by perfection or the pursuit of it. Instead, perform to progress toward your goals and dreams, celebrating each small step along the way.

3. Promote with purpose. Let people know who you are in a way that is personal and purposeful -- not a slick self-promoter. People recognize and reward those who stand confidently in their strengths authentically and purposefully.

4. Parlay your platform. Your ‘platform’ is the station in life you’ve achieved thus far. It is the sum total of all your efforts in honing your talents and skills. It may not be where you want to be yet, but it’s yours.

5. Put it into action. Keep your eyes and ear open to see when opportunity knocks. Be alert to it and be aware. Take action on the four steps that lead up to this as earnestly and as often as possible.

6. Practice philanthropy. Give. You can never go wrong giving, even when no one hears about it. So many of us have benefited from the gifts of others, and you’ll never know what your small, or even not-so-small, gift might mean to someone in need, be it a coworker, a friend, or even a boss.

Brownie Dreamin'

I had a weird dream last night.
Long story short, I dreamed that I had to complete all these mazes and riddles in different rooms, all movie and book themed, to be allowed to enter the "new world." The type of world I got was based on how well I did in the challenges. I am guessing I didn't do that well because, in my world, everything was beautiful but everyone was elderly.
That is actually neither here nor there.
Brownie popped up in my dream. He was supposed to help me with one of the mazes, but all we did was argue. He refused to tell me why he stopped being my friend and left me to figure out the maze myself.
Here is the thing: I was originally hurt about Brownie friend dumping me. Understandably, he was one of my besties. But I don't feel as broken up about it anymore. However, it is not until recently that he has started to pop up in my dreams.
I have always looked forward to having dreams. They let me know what I need to focus on, but the Brownie special appearances are confusing. It's been over a year since we actually spoke to each other. And they are not warning dreams. He's fine. His wife follows me on Instagram and they seem to be living the newlywed life.
Perhaps my brain is telling me that I am more hurt than I think, even though I don't feel it. Or maybe Brownie isn't Brownie but a deeper message of neglect or something. Sigh. The questions you could answer if you could afford a shrink.