HoustonLanaVegas

It's almost midnight. I've been asleep all day so I am awake. I have energy for once. I want to go dancing. When I was in my 20s, I used to go dancing. I also want someone to come scoop me so we can go drive around downtown. We used to call this parking lot pimping. Once, Tasia and I aimlessly drove around downtown in her Volkswagen Beetle with the sunroof down. She turned on "HoustonLanaVegas" by Drake. I looked up at the stars with my arms up. I was so optimistic about life. I couldn't wait to see what I was going to become, who I was going to be. I want to dance. I want to drive around downtown while listening to Drake. I have no dance partner. Tasia is now married with two kids. In the other lifetime, I hope old Holly is dancing or cruising. How dope would that be? 

No Need Necessary

Chocolate called me and asked how I was doing. I told him that honestly, I was feeling a little down for one of the same reasons I have been feeling down for years: I don't feel like my friends have time for me. I asked him how he handles it when he feels this way. He said he never does. He doesn't need anyone. 

On top of being completely self-sufficient and self-reliant, he is so excited about the amazing things happening in his field of tech that he doesn't have time to think about the homies. He's got to stay at the top of his field. He's got interviews to do and professional trainings to take. If I would focus on my job hunt, fitness, writing, and professional training, I wouldn't have time to remember I had friends. 

This idea excited me. I thought of myself moving and shaking, making moves, making money. I'd be so high on my own supply that I wouldn't need a soul ...until I slowed down to look both ways and see that no one who cared was around or cared to be around. It sounds like that would be fun until it wasn't and would end up feeling very empty. I mean, I feel empty now! 

I admire how he needs no one, but I am not built that way. I need to talk and laugh and feel heard. This sucks, because when these things aren't happening, I end up feeling pretty sad. See the circle here? However, I think my life would probably be 1000% better if I tried to be more like him, making it so my need for friends was not necessarily. 

Companion- Space

I recently got to catch up with my friend Boots from college. She's been one of my favorite people for a long time, but she has a crazy work schedule and we haven't gotten to talk in ages. She told me she is keeping plants in her apartment, that she still does hair, and that she has a boyfriend. I was excited to hear this, but she said they don't get to have a lot of date nights because of his work schedule. They don't get to see each other a lot. 

"It's fine because I really don't want a man all up under me" she explained. I found this to be interesting because she and her college boyfriend were all over each other to the point that they looked conjoined! 

What is it about being a middle aged woman that makes you want loved ones close to you and away from you at the same time? Your desire for companionship and space seem to overlap each other. It's like, how can you tell a man to hug you and back up at the same time? Im choosing to blame all of this on science. Whatever makes peri- menopausal women hot in the cold super smellers is probably behind the companion-space movement. I like to believe that I'd be super hands on with my man if I had one, but I don't know. At times, when people are talking to me, I want to jump out of the window, so...

She says she plans to marry this man, and I hope she does. Just because you want companion-space, doesn't mean you want to be a lone. Let's hear it for another one of life's riddles. 

The Tough Questions

The other day, I got a particularly horrible Dear John letter from a company I applied to work at. It was hella harsh. I would have much rather they would have knocked on my door then shot me in the foot. 

"Damn!" Lisha exclaimed after I read her the email. "That was... direct." That is a cute way of describing it. I'm not exaggerating when I say that this letter was the written equivalent of giving someone the middle finger. 

It is times like this where I am AGAIN reminded of Penis Man. I wonder about what happened to this guy quite often, especially during my job search. Years ago, I was listening to the news on the radio and the newscaster did a report on a man who had applied to hundreds of jobs and could not get a call back. So, in a desperate state of mind, he began to send in pictures of his junk with his resume. He was arrested for indecent exposure. Too bad I wasn't working in HR back then. That kind of on-your-feet thinking would have gotten him an interview from my company. 

Can I just ask one question: what are we doing? The nation is at war, the aliens are coming, the vegetables are giving folks explosive diarrhea. What are we doing? Applying for jobs? Looking for work? Trying to make a living? Shouldn't we be dancing in the street naked before a record breaking hurricane comes and wipes us out? Am I going to be surfing Indeed when the comet hits? I guess I will ponder these questions later as I edit my resume. 

The Big Picture

The other day, I found some pics of me from high school and a pic of me at the 8th grade dance. I was cute but didn't know it. As excited as I was to share these pics, I doubled down on the promise I made myself years ago: I'm not going to be that old chick that keeps pics at the ready of herself when she was young. Have you seen people's faces when they are cornered by women like this? It's like they want to say, Sure, you were cute then, but look at you now sis! It's pretty embarrassing for the lady shoving her phone in everyone's face to see a 20 year old picture. I knew a picture shover once. It was very uncomfortable because she didn't look like young her at. all. 

"I'm going to show my old pics whenever the opportunity presents itself, I don't care!" Risky exclaimed. "In college, I was in great shape!"

I wasn't, but I didn't look as sad. In current pictures, I feel like I look grumpy and annoyed which makes since because I am! If I had any dignity I'd just stop smiling all together and be honest in a photo or two. We all know I won't do that. 

For now, I think the solution is to avoid pictures altogether. I used to love taking them. Now I need a three month notice just to hide in the back of a pic and frown. Although I won't do it, I see why people rather show off a pic of themselves at 17. 

Nunning Up

When it comes to anything regarding men or dating or coupling or whatever, I feel a great sense of dread and disappointment. I don't want to talk to any guys romantically. Maybe I should rearrange some things and label partnership or being married as a secret desire of my heart and move forward with focusing on working, friends, and family. At least in that arena I can better see the fruits of my labor. I think. H$ll if I know, I'm old! Shouldn't I have more things figured out? I wish I could go back in time when I thought love would make things better, slap myself, then redirect my attention to taking better care of my hair. I need to take better care of my hair. P suggested I'm "nunning up". All I know is that men make me feel sad and tired. When I told my therapist I was over men she suggested I was depressed. Maybe. I mean, isn't anyone looking for the warmth of love in this cold, hard world depressed? How many naps do I need to have enough energy to even chat with a guy? I will let you know when I wake up. 

Freeway of Love (Another Risky Business Story)

The other night, I was on the phone with Risky as she drove hours away from her home to meet and potentially blow a guy she met online. They have had a very complicated online history. As a matter of fact, as she was driving to see this guy, she was blocked by him on the site they met on. I guess they had each other's personal contacts, because when he came to her state, he texted her and she decided to make the voyage to meet him. 

I wish this was the worst of the story but it is not. Once she got to his hotel, they chatted for a bit, and he refused to give her any real information about himself. No real name, hometown, job, or anything. I felt this displayed a lot of nerve on his end. How can you be creeped out and concerned about your safety on one hand, but then want sex from said creepy person on the other hand? Plus, he's the guy! The odds lean towards him when it comes to which one of them is going to make the other an unsolved mystery. 

They fooled around but no real deal hanky panky because he was behind on his STI screenings. I was so happy when Risky let me know she was on her way home that I didn't even have commentary on how loony this story was! She paints the whole thing as an "experience" that she is overall happy she did. She doubts it will progress from here.  I agree, since he blocked her and gave her an alias. She said she thinks it's time she consider marriage. I think it's time she consider becoming abstinent, cutting all losers from her life. She's just too amazing for this kind of stuff! 

You can't tell your friends what to do. I know this for sure, seeing there are plenty of times I ignored my friend's advice. I just want all my girls to be happy, which won't happen for Risky if she ends up in some guy's freezer first. But I can't be too judgemental. No one knows better than me that when it comes to dating, it's a cold world. 

Trauma Drama

I honestly didn't think it was possible for me to become more reflective and emotional than I already am, but apparently I can. I find that when I think about my childhood or even my young adult years, I end up in tears. I just heard a song that was popular when I was in like the 5th grade, and started weeping. 

Millennials like to throw the word "trauma" at everything. Something traumatic must have happened when I was a kid that I haven't addressed. Now, I get triggered and have these big reactions. I mean, maybe, but I don't think so. I didn't have a lot growing up but I grew up in an area where no one did. I got a bike in elementary school. I was a Girl Scout. I spent a lot of time with my beloved grandma. As far a childhoods go, there have definitely been worse. 

If I had to guess, I think the bigger issue is the passage of time. My being a tween is so vivid in my mind, yet, in present time, I find myself looking down the barrel of being elderly and admittedly, I'm unprepared and scared. I will never be younger than I am this second, and I'm already 300-years-old! I believe that living in a fashion where you marinate on regrets is a recipe for disaster; a recipe for failure. But boy, do I have some. Again tears. 

Apparently, looking back at the past causes me some sort of something, but it's also difficult to be present, especially when things aren't going my way. A part of me wants to wade in a time where old opportunities are still available, but that's impossible. 

I guess the solution is to just to keep living; to keep pushing until I find a space I'm at least sort of cozy in. Until then, que the tears. 

It's a Small World: The Story of Babycakes

I was feeling really bad recently about everything. It was the type of bad where you just have to lay down silently. You don't even have the energy to cry. It was at this time that God sent me a little something to make me smile. 

I went on to Instagram and I saw a post from this... interesting woman that goes to my church. I was confused because it was a post of a man and a woman, and she usually only posts jewelry she is selling. I noticed that the man looked a lot like one of my Xavier brothers, and upon further investigation, it was him, Babycakes! Apparently, he married the Interesting Woman's (IW) daughter. 

A few years ago, I went to a women's retreat at church and my bunk mate was IW. She is a sweet enough lady but hard to talk to. She hardly has any words. She acts as if she is only given three words a day and has to preserve them. I don't know why the hater a$$ First Lady of my church thought we'd be a good fit. I suspect it was more about putting me in the cabin as far away from the conference room as possible to force me to exercise 🤬 Anyway, talking to IW reminded me of how difficult I found squeezing lemons as a kid. I would feel like my wrists were about to snap, trying to get enough juice to make a glass of lemonade. Needless to say, IW left me almost completely juiceless. 

"Having her as a mother-in-law must be a dozie," I thought to myself. 

The gag is that Babycakes may be one of very few people that I never spoke to in college. Ever. This is interesting because he dated my friend Legs. I remember they broke up senior year and I asked her why. She said, "In the beginning, I was excited about picking the crust out of his eyes and picking out his outfits, but now I want a man who can pick his own crust and his own outfits!" Boy, she said a mouthful there. She also said some other stuff about him highjacking her guy friends and making them his, but that is neither here nor there. 

Today, I think Babycakes is picking his own crust and outfits. IW's daughter doesn't look like the "picking" kind. The post IW posted was wishing them a happy anniversary, and he for sure looks happy. That tells me nothing though. He looked happy with Legs too. I mean, they used to wear matching outfits for goodness sakes! 

I say all this to ask, isn't the world small? I mean really small. Coincidentally, my Xavier brother married the daughter of a woman who attends my church! God knew that the peculiarness of this whole thing would give me a light chuckle to pick up my spirits. Won't He do it? 

The Block's Not Hot

I just wanted to stop by ladies and let you know that just when you think these guys won't have the nerve, they absolutely will! 

Block Spin is back again baby! It's funny because I was just thinking of him, feeling guilty for not reaching out to him after his latest ghosting. You know how my anxiety works. I was scared he was dead or being held captive in an international prison. But of course he is alive and well and still full of it! 

I was surfing social media last night when I got a random video call. It only rang once and I realized it was him. He called me back and I turned my camera off. He said he was just calling to "check in on me". Child...I reminded him that he was supposed to do that four months ago when he landed out of state for his business trip. I mentioned this twice because he was trying to steamroll past it. He said he was calling me now which was "better late than never". He has lost the energy and the give a sh#t to even lie anymore. I told him I had to go but I was glad he was okay. You see that? Even when I'm being dissed I don't want to come off as mean! 

P told me ages ago that guys will vanish then reappear when they think you've forgotten what they did. He wasn't lying! It seems that these guys are serious about being as unserious as possible, and I'm over it. OVER IT! 

I had such high hopes for Block Spin. We had such a good first conversation. We talked about movies. It was fun. However, being forgotten about then randomly remembered, most likely after a woman you liked more has given you the blues, is not fun. It's belittling. Oh well, onward and upward. 

Brow

I have a gray hair in my right eyebrow, so I fully expect to wake up tomorrow 200 years old and wearing a diaper. 

This gray hair has lived rent-free in my head for days. I want to pluck it out, but all I keep thinking of is how my grandma told me that if I shave the hair off my arms, it will grow back thicker and darker. If this is true, which it must be because my grandma said it, then if I pluck my gray brow hair, I will wake up with fully gray brows and even a head full of gray hair. 

I am shocked at how vain I have become in middle age, and I have spoken to you about this before. I guess it is easy to sit on your youthful skin high horse when the reality of becoming a dehydrated raisin is so far away. My friends look so good! What if I meet up with them for homecoming or something, and people confuse me for their great-grandmother? Can you imagine a more heartbreaking situation, you know, outside of famine, abuse, and poverty?

I was on social media today and saw a picture of Charles Christmas. He has gray in his beard, and he looks so sexy. I have one gray hair in my eyebrow, and I look like Mother Earth. 

I need to allow my anxiety to settle about this before I mess around and do something nutty like shave my whole eyebrow off. At least if I have a bald brow, that may take attention away from the small frown line that I think I have coming in. 

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! 

Slow

I think I may be losing my smart. I find that I am beginning to drift when I am watching a movie or talking to someone. I have to rewind what I just saw or ask a friend to repeat themselves. I don't have the attention span to get through conversations that I initiate! I don't know if I am preoccupied or tired. I don't know if this is just another symptom of being a woman in her 40s. I honestly can't tell you what is going on. I just feel bored and annoyed and over it with everything. It's like I can't be bothered with anything and I am bothered by everything. 

Big No Talk

It has been on my mind to do something I have wanted to do the last ten years. I think I am going to go on a phone fast. My definition of this is not calling anyone or texting anyone and only communicating with people who text or call me. I have been hesitant to do this because I am pretty sure I am going to be saddened by the results. The past decade has been about me coming to terms with loving people who either don't love me back or don't have time for me. My spirit has already told me who these people are, but I feel like I have to put my own intuition to the test. On the low end, I think that this is a sad exercise in self-abuse, but on the high end, I think it will give me the face-slapping clarity I need to move forward into the abyss of middle age. I think that a month is a good amount of time to conduct this experiment; however, I am dragging my feet on when to start. Confirming that no one cares is going to be a hard and bitter pill to swallow. 

For Whom The Bell Tolls

The theme for yesterday was death for 500, Alex. 

In the morning, I found out that my grandma's favorite and one of her few surviving cousins had died. Later in the day, I discovered that one of my beloved Xavier brothers had died. I also had a lengthy conversation with P about the afterlife. It was brutal. Brutal and heavy. 

As a Muslim, he feels like Christians don't think enough about the afterlife, while Muslims live with the afterlife at the forefront of their minds. I don't find this to be true, at least not at my church. There is plenty of talk about going to Heaven and the proper way to get there. This is especially troubling for me, seeing that I like to think about death and the journey after the way it was described to me as a child. We all have to die, but we die to go see Jesus, who lives in Heaven. Heaven is a beautiful place, and when you get there, you will get to see everyone who died before you. There was no talk of Hell, sin, or unbearable heat. There was only talk of a beautiful place to chill with your elders once your time is up. 

I prayed that both my grand-cousin and Xavier brother made it to Heaven. I am choosing to believe that they are now surrounded by the love of God and not oven-roasting to the soundtrack of eternal screams. The world, especially today, has a way of bombarding you with bad news and fears and disappointments and horrors. With that being said, is it so bad to want to believe that we all will one day be with God in an amazing paradise? How are we supposed to understand the stresses of the day while reconciling with the idea that we may also be going to Hell? How can we be present in the day if we are afraid of burning alive tomorrow?

I'm not sure, but according to P, we'd better figure it out because judgment starts at the moment of death. The very second our life ends, the trial starts. I cringe at the idea of having to explain to God why I have done some of the dumb stuff that I have done when there was a published book of His wishes available that I ignored. Yeah, I am going to stick with the Sunday school version of Heaven for myself and for the people I know who have passed on. I don't think I have the bandwidth to accept any of the other alternatives. 

Food For Thought

Hello, my name is Holly. I am an overeater who comes from a long lineage of overeaters who is now trying to teach my niece and nephew not to overeat. It annoys me that there are people who just get full, put their forks down, and go to bed. Even if I cut off my arms, I would find a way to get that last Pringle into my mouth. I have accepted that food issues are going to be my cross to bear, but I am hopeful that the tips I give my niece and nephew (that are obviously from offline, because what do I know about having consumption control?) will help them to avoid a fate such as mine. 

Everyone has issues, but why can't my issue be one that people can't see? Why can't I be a sex addict or a thief or a liar and still get to walk around skinny and cute with no one being the wiser? Why can't I be the adulterer that walks around judging overweight folks, telling them to "just stop eating" and to "get up and walk"? I would be just as good a hypocrite as the next guy. It's just not fair! 

I have gotten so upset with food that I have started to protest it. Even when I am hungry, I just find myself not wanting to eat. What is the point? I am just going to get hungry again, make bad choices, not feel full, then make the same overeater mistakes all over again. I need a break just as food, per usual, is breaking my spirits. 

The other day, I watched my 2-year-old niece eating a granola bar. Halfway through finishing it, she didn't want it anymore, threw it on the floor, and then walked away. I think the healthy people call that "portion control". Maybe there is hope for my bloodline yet! 

Angry and Awake

Today I woke up pissed, again. Is this going to be life in my 40s? Waking up upset? I was full of agitation and nervous energy. I didn't sleep well. I tried to go back to sleep and start over, but that doesn't work anymore. The thought of applying to more jobs just to get a Dear John letter in a week or so made me want to cry. I had so much to do today that I had no idea where to start. My phone didn't charge during the night. My skin is dry. My brain is toast. The good news is that I was able to get up and get in the shower before the downer mood took over and my whole day was shot. With these types of moods, if you don't act fast, there is a point of no return, and you might as well throw the whole day in the trash. I'm trying to learn how to be more optimistic. Perhaps tomorrow I will wake up in a better mood. 

Curly and the Conservative

I have to admit, I have been worried about Curly and his dating life ever since that nut job took him to that the pee-time bar. You know, the one where the guys participated in piss play in the bathroom😬? So, you can imagine how concerned I was when he told me that he'd had a day date with a Conservative man. 

"I have to admit, when he came over, I was a little afraid that I was going to get hate-crimed in my own home," he confessed. Even recalling this memory, he sounded nervous. I can understand why. I am sure that there are Conservatives who are allies to the LGBTQIA+ cause, but they don't seem nearly as loud as the Bible wavers on social media who have nothing but smoke for the community. Outside of being Conservative, what worried him was that the man didn't even seem gay. He looked like your everyday straight White man that you would run into buying some pre-creased khakis to conceal his dad gut. He didn't look like he knew anything about anything gay. 

However, the guy ended up being super nice, and they sat and talked for a long time about their interests and trending topics. They shared a really cool afternoon together. I guess you can't judge a book by its cover...especially when the cover is confusing. 

"We had a good time, but it is pretty clear that he is straight," Curly said, "so I don't think that there is much of a future there. I totally see him marrying a woman."

"For sure," I said, not quite understanding what he was saying. Look, I learned long ago not to ask too many questions when it comes to this type of thing, but admittedly, I am not quite clear how you can be into men and women sexually and not be bisexual, but instead somehow completely straight. Is this the fluidity that the Gen Z kids are always going on and on about, or just the title word play of a possibly closeted man? Either way, I am glad that Curly walked away from the experience having had a fun time and not with a sad story. Fingers crossed that his next guy friends is actually into guys. 

The Great Egg Scramble

Everywhere I turn, I'm hearing about women freezing their eggs! It's a topic of three reality shows I'm watching! I have some friends that are going back and forth on the idea, under the gun may I add. By 40, if you have a good egg left it needs to be on ice yesterday! I wish it was legal to run a nitrogen lab out of your house. If it was, I'd be making mad bank son! 

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I'm happy that God didn't put motherhood on my heart. If he would have, I'd probably be running around frantic like some of the other women in my life. Watching it gives me anxiety, but the fact of the matter is clear: you are born with tons of eggs but not with the love of your life. Sometimes meeting a man is not on the same timeline as your body. I get it, I just feel for the women under this stress. 

My girl Gail from church is 38 with no prospects in sight. She wants kids and is thinking about getting icy with it. It's expensive, plus she's not sure where God stands on the whole process. That adds a whole 'nother layer of stress to the situation. I find myself praying for her while Googling fertility clinics at the same time! 

I'm sad because I know that freeze or no freeze, motherhood is not going to happen for some of the women in my life. It's unfair, and I'm bracing for some of these women to go into a serious mourning over this fact. It's already sort of happening for people I know who can't afford egg freezing or didn't have any viable eggs left. If my eggs weren't scrambled I'd give one to whoever needed one. Whether I want kiddos or not, I really wish that all my friends that want to be mommies could be. 

Dizzle and the Inmate

I don't know if you've ever had a close friend to pass away. If you ever do, you will find that it doesn't take much to drum up memories of them. Yesterday, I watched a movie called Clemency with Alfre Woodard where she played the warden of a men's prison. This made me think of my friend Dizzle.

Dizzle was not a warden; she was a doctor who, for a short period of time, worked in a men's prison. One of her patients was an inmate that was terminally ill and dying. It was so clear that he was going to die that Dizzle began to advocate for a compassionate release so he could die peacefully amongst friends and family. I mean, according to Dizzle he was so sick-sick that his death was guaranteed. It wasn't like he was going to get released then hop on a flight to Japan. 

It's important to note that the doctors were not to know what the inmates did to land themselves in jail. Knowing may influence the quality of care they gave them. So, Dizzle didn't know what this guy did. She just knew he was very ill and thought it would be inhumane for him to die behind bars and she was pretty loud and annoying about this. If you knew Dizzle, you knew she'd make a stink until she got results. Well, the result of this campaign was someone letting it slip that her patient was in jail for child molestation. Yikes. 

Dizzle was an only child who loved kids and wanted a trillion of them if possible, so to find out that she'd been advocating for someone who harmed them was devastating. I don't know if you know a lot of doctors but I went to college with a bunch. They can be a$$h@les. The other doctors took to giving Dizzle a not-so-nick nickname: Little Miss Compassion. It was a rough road for the rest of her stay. 

The thing is that Dizzle was a Little Miss Compassion, 100%, and I sometimes wonder if she would have advocated for him anyway if she'd known what he did from the start. I don't know. Anyway, the movie made me think of this story...