Weird dreams

I've been having some weird dreams the past two weeks. The ones that take the cake:

3.) After watching The Wire, I had a dream that McNulty stole a Blow Pop (from Charm!) outof my purse and proceeded to eat it in front of me. Jerk.

2.) Took place in Jersey City. The whole dream was weird, but the strangest was when a (real life)  friend's boyfriend randomly showed up and took me to some box cars that were near train tracks (the location was real). He opened the door and revealed a bunch of black people he had killed and put in the box car. Then, smiling, he explained that he had received orders to do it, but he wouldn't do that to us. When I lookaround I realize that there are 3 dudes who look like they stepped out of the movie Cadillac records standing next to me. They give a "WEll, that's strange" look to each other and start walkign off.

3.) Threesome. with. Bill. Murray. I don't even have sex dreams that much. Fucking weird.

One thing that these dreams make clear is that I absorb way too much when I watch movies.

My BlackBerry, My Protector

I can be a bit impulsive. This is not a trait that goes over well in the digital age, especially when it involves social media and blogging. Sometimes I get worked up and decide I want to vent my feelings on my blog or write something particularly not nice on Facebook. Every time I try to do this using my mini-computer, aka my BlackBerry, it somehow malfunctions before I manage to post anything vitriolic for the world to see. Smart phone, indeed.

Not nice

I know it's not nice to wish bad things on people, but sometimes you can't help it.

Let me get into 90s comedian mode here: What is up with women who apply their make-up on the subway? I don't mean lip gloss, I mean the women who are putting on foundation, eye shadow, eye liner, mascara, lip liner, and lipstick during rush hour. Why not wake upa bit early and do it at home? And why does it always take these people 10 motherfucking minutes to apply some mascara?! This should take 45 seconds, maybe two minutes what with all the bouncing (which you wouldn't have to deal with if you were on solid ground in your won damn bathroom).

But my original point. When these people are mascara-ing away in the middle of a crowded train, am I the only one who kinda hopes they poke themselves in the eye?

Accentuate the positive

Original post redacted because...some shit you shouldn't say ona blog, even if no one reads it.

Anyway, here are some nice things that have happened lately. Nothing deep, just wanted to write it down to remind myself of the good things in life.

For Valentine's Day, Randy took me to a super awesome restaurant for probably the most amazing meal I've had in my life. Not to be hyperbolic, but each course (with the exception of one, which was still great) selected for the Valentine's tasting menu was just about perfect. Great meal, great guy, great night. It was a much needed high note in a time period where I've been feeling a touch of SAD (It's winter, I get to blame it on SAD. I'll have to think of something else for spring.).

I finally moved into into my new place. I love it! I think it's the first place I've lived in since my family's house that feels like home. The only way it could be better is if there was a secret tunnel behind the stove that led to cute-fuzzy-baby-animal-land. That would be kind of creepy actually. It's perfect as is.

Things that annoy me, but shouldn't

When I am the only black customer shopping in a store (doesn't really matter what type) and people come up to me and ask "Excuse me, do you work here?" Next time someone does this, instead of getting mad I'll just have fun leading them on a wild goose chase around the store.

"God bless you": From benediction to booty call

I find it interesting that the most used pick-up line (psssst! And kissing noises do not count as "lines," they count as permission to give a stranger a concussion) lately is "God bless you." It"s across ethnicities, too--in my experience only "ethnic" (black, hispanic, urbanAsians, italian, greek, slavs, etc) dudes use pick up lines on the street. I guess WASPs meet at mixers, and frat dudes pick up girls at bars? But I digress--that's something that can be looked into later.

Back to the "God bless you business." What the hell is that about?! What does it even mean? "You gave me a boner and some jerkoff material for later, God bless you"? Or "God bless you for having a sweet, sweet ass"? How did this become the standard way of hitting on someone? I'm not even religious and it skeeves me out. It does provide an easy rejoinder though: "Go to hell."

So it goes

Yesterday night was girl's night out. Time to get dressed up all sexy-like, head out on the town, and see if you "still got it." The plan began with meeting at Bon's and then heading out to dinner at a fancypants restaurant that had something to do with Buddha and another thing to do with Top Chef.

When I arrived at Bonnie's apartment building, there was a fire truck on the street perpendicular to hers. A police car and an ambulance blocked off the small street where the entrance to her building is located. I called her a couple of time from the foyer since I couldn't remember her apartment number, but got no answer. As I tried again, a man and woman walked past me and out the front door.

"He dropped dead right in front of..." was the snippet of their conversation I heard as they passed by. Oh, the ambulances are for some old dude who had a heart attack or something, I thought.

I walked up to the doorman's desk and asked which apartment Bonnie was in. The doorman was standing behind the desk; in the seat sat a small boy, who couldn't have been more than four, with dirty blond hair and big shining eyes. The kid focused on some toys he was playing with; the doorman stared blankly at me and said he didn't know who that was. Annoyed, I retreated to the side of the desk to call Bon again. The man and woman who had passed me earlier had returned.

"Heeey," the guy spoke in a loud, obnoxiously soothing voice to the kid. "Do you like cookies? Here are some cookies. Do you like them?" The kid continued moving his toys across the desk as they forced the cookies on him.

Finally, he turned to the man and said "I like playing with my dad." The way he said dad was a question thrown into that statement, and then it fell into place. Oh, the ambulances are for some guy who died right in front of his child.


Bhavu finally got me the apartment number, which I told to the shellshocked doorman. I received a blank stare paired with a nod, and fled to the elevator. So terrible, I thought. I hope his mom gets here soon, he doesn't even know his dad is dead.

The doors opened on Bonnie's floor and a couple of feet away from me a young woman lay crumpled on the floor. Two paramedics stood over her, watchi as she sobbed. "I don't know what to do," she moaned. Then she screamed. "I can't breathe! I can't breathe! What am I supposed to do!"

She looked so young. She couldn't have been more than 30.

Her cries echoed in the hallway as I made my way to Bonnie's apartment. When I got inside, I couldn't shake the horrible feeling that had come over me. Grief and death have been on my mind a lot since the earthquake in Haiti; you can't hide from the images of bodies pulled from rubble and wailing mothers. It hit home to me in a way that other disasters hadn't, and the fact that it had directly affected close friends of mine made it even more real. But evena fter all teh videos and pictures and news stories--seeing that woman's unrestrained grief so closely was terrifying. Not only becasue she was so far gone, so deeply in pain that she couldn't even take care of her child, but because that's the kind of grief that hits close to home. Everyone fears dying, but parallel to that and perhaps more frightening, everyone fears their loved ones dying. Especially the unexpected death, not of grandpa or great aunt Julie, but your friend, your lover, your child. Looking at that woman on the floor I wondered how she would go on. She wasn't on the ground anymore when we left, but I could still picture her there.

Dinner was great. The restaurant was really nice, and the food was delicious. We hadn't all been together for a while, so it was good catching up, and I'm looking forward to doing it on a more regular basis. When I made my way home though, I was still haunted by tthe young woman on the floor.

This morning I came into work and to discover via the internet that a little girl with leukemia, who's story I know through a friend and who's ups and down I had also followed in the media had died. Being the person that passed that news on to my friend was terrible; I knew that any sadness I felt was multiplied by a million for her since she actually knew this sweet little girl. Although it is a terible loss for her mother, at least she got to do so many things before she passed. Here is a pic her mom sent around of her meeting Obama:

I don't know what all this death and grief of late means. In the aftermath it's easy to say appreciate your life and do not go gentle into that good night, but that's cliche. Still, all you can do is live and love as hard as you can, because eventually you'll be that person on the floor, and you'll need a reason to get back up. So it goes.