Sunday, February 12, 2012

Get Off The Corner

"Get Off The Corner" is one of my favorite Lil' Wayne song. As matter of fact, I was listening to it the other day an-

Annnnnnnd scene.

By the title of this blog, I meant that lately, people have been on their little, decrepit soapbox on the corner, yelling nonsense through bullhorn when no one wants or cares to listen. Why? Most of the time, it is in an attempt to prove something. Who makes the most money, who's the bigger fan, who cares the least. You can't even cheer a team on without someone questioning how long you've been a fan or how many stats you can quote, but because they can, they feel superior to you?? (You wasn't with 'em when they was shooting in the gym!)

It'll even boil down to material things. "You fools still on dat ------, while I'm on dat -----. Get on my levle boi!"

OR you could get on my level, and learn to use your spell check. Please and thanks.

And celebrity deaths are the absolute worst. It's when every Plato and Socrates comes out of the woodwork with their own bits of "knowledge." On the heels of the deaths of some of the most legendary and iconic figures in black entertainment history, it's unfathomable to pass away and rest in peace. Instead, their memory is ripped to shreds by people who insist they saw their death coming from a mile away, and laugh in the face of those who mourn. Go and look at your newsfeed on the days that a prominent figure/celebrity passed away. You'll find photos with the celebrity on one side, starving African children on the other, and a message that reads "One dies, millions cry. Millions die, no one cries."

Hol' up, hol' up, whoa dere.

You're telling me that because I wrote a "R.I.P. Whitney" tweet that I don't care about children in Africa? That's the correlation we're making here?

I get it. The purpose of such a photo is to bring to light that the deaths of famous people get more attention than larger, critical issues happening in the world. But to openly accuse people of being heartless and ignorant because they express grief for the death of another human being is ridiculous. How is it that you are any more compassionate than them? What are you doing to help those millions of starving African children that you so willingly exploited on your timeline?


Point is, if you are anomaly, if you are open-minded, if you see the world in a way that's different from others - you don't need to prove it. People will acknowledge it, accept it, maybe even challenge it at times, but in the end, you are still are you. That is not to say you should be silent and not speak up about things you don't agree with, but you should be able to discuss certain topics/matters without going to the extreme of trying to making yourself look good and someone else bad.

And I’m done.

*steps down from soapbox* Dang it, I did it again…

Monday, November 21, 2011

U Don't Know

Looking at past conversations I've had with male friends, it's interesting to see the different perspectives on what they believe the black woman wants. What's funnier is they're able to determine those needs when they are, in fact, not black women. 0__o

The opposite sex will always have an opinion of the other sex's wants and how they act, and usually these opinions are grounded in personal experience. I pulled the top three myths that I felt were the most controversial and antithetical to all- well let's say many- black women wants when it comes to relationships. So sit back...


Myth #1: Black women cannot date because they always want to get into relationships, and the primary reason they get into relationships is to rush to the altar.


It's quite hilarious to say the word "relationship" to a man and he looks as if he caught a stomach virus mid-conversation. Don't think too highly of yourself. Women will bring up the subject of relationships NOT because they want to be in one with you, but because they want an understanding of your stance on relationships and where you're at now. That way, we won’t put ourselves in the position of dating a guy and developing feelings, just for them to turn around and say "I'm not ready yet." And yes, marriage is a beautiful institution that is highly celebrated in our community. But you won't find "get married and ish" on our daily to-do list. Bringing in other factors into the equation (women who conscientiously choose to be single, women who are career-driven and not family-focused, etc.), you'll find that while we may desire marriage in the future, it's not a "prize" to be won, but a blessing bestowed upon us when it is the RIGHT TIME. If you are dating a woman and the topic of relationships is brought up, do not shy away from it. Be open and honest. It will save the two of you a lot of confusion and/or heartbreak.

Myth #2: Black women demand an unreasonable amount of attention.


Women are emotional creatures. That is no surprise to anyone, and as much as we'd like to deny it, we are. As with anything with emotions, there requires a certain amount of attention. Correct? Okay. Attention does not require a) spending every waking moment with you, b) texting 12 hours out of the day, and c) talking on the phone for the other 12 hours. I can't define what an "appropriate amount" of attention is when the needs of each woman varies, but some is better than none. If you're dating someone, you shouldn't have to check in on her EVERY day, but does it hurt to call sometime throughout the week? Or at least send a DM that says "hi?" We don’t need care and attention 24/7. We just want to feel as if you still have a genuine interest in our well being and getting to know us, without having to make the first contact all of the time. A little attention goes a long way.

Myth #3: Black women only seek men who have ample amounts of money and can take care of them.


Contrary to popular belief, Kim Kardashian is not the role model of the black women population. Do not take the fact that because a woman wants a man who’s financially sound, she is a gold digger. And the operating phrase is financially sound. That does not mean it's necessary for him to have a six or seven figure salary, but he should be able to support himself first and foremost, and a family in the future. Furthermore, the amount of educated, black women is growing every day, and we are continuing to blaze trails in different fields and territory. Those upper-level positions that were once out of reach are now obtainable goals, and the support of a man is not always wanted nor needed. It would, however, be nice to find a man that's on the same level whether it's financially, mentally, or spiritually. What good is your money to me if I can't connect with you on any other level?

Here's what may be a revelation to men: it is the little things that makes a woman happy. The little things include opening the car door, dropping off soup when she's sick, surprising her with favorite candy when you hang out, sending a 'good morning' text to start her day (let me stop- I'm naming all of my favorite things.)

I understand people who structure viewpoints around experience. That's what experience does. It shapes our beliefs and even our outlook on life. But it does not make anyone the Dalai Lama of understanding things such as relationships just because they've encountered ‘type A man one too many times,’ or because they have a plethora of female friends who are the epitome of a needy, money-hungry, marriage-thirsty women. Furthermore, it's impossible to categorize all black women because we were each taught different life lessons. Some are born as princesses and raised as queens, told to never let a man treat her as anything less. Many are groomed to follow the older adage of the "submissive housewife" who caters to her husband's every needs, does the cooking, cleaning, caring of the children, and puts work (if she has a job) second to her family. Then there are the very blunt lessons that rests at opposite ends of the spectrum: the "go for the gold" or the "you can do bad all by yourself" theories.

Regardless, you can never really guess the mentality of a black woman and her expectations when they all differ. We cannot allow past experiences and faulty stereotypes to hinder us from dating or getting into relationships- that goes for both men and women. And with that being said, I would like to invite one of my guy friends to write a similar blog debunking myths about black men because there are a TON of them out there too. My top three are:

1. All black men cheat.
2. All black men aspire to be athletes, rappers, or have any other career where they can get money off of talent and not education and/or hard work.
3. All black men come from broken homes and suffer from "I ain't have no daddy" syndrome.

The list goes on but you get the point. Can't write on it because, alas, I am 100% woman.

I especially invite you to write a response if you see one of your statements the black women myths listed above....still love ya tho!

Sunday, November 6, 2011

...Gone For a Minute, Now I'm Back With the Jump-Off

Last post --> September 28th. Smh...

I'm back! Well, not really. Given that I'll be plunging headfirst into pre-finals and finals work within these next four weeks, I'll just say that I'll be dropping in periodically.

What to say about the past few months? I've added people to my life, I've subtracted, and others are still part of an equation that I can't seem to solve. To say that I have senioritis is putting it mildly. I AM ready to graduate. On the other hand, I still enjoy the comfort of being in school and if I were to walk across the stage tomorrow, I'd probably be dragged kicking and screaming into the workforce. My mantra: I'll get over it.

The biggest change regarded a person who I've discussed before in previous blogs. It was a relationship that had transpired over the past year or so and was abruptly altered due to a simple question that I asked and he could not answer. I was (indirectly) told that I wasn't good enough, and had to sit and watch the fragile structure of our "friendship" crumple before my eyes. Thank goodness for prayer and faith because for a brief moment, I believed I'd be searching for my heart and self-esteem amongst the rubble.

Moving forward, it seems like we're trying to salvage the few remaining remnants, however my attention is elsewhere- on new things and new people. Business offers have been pouring in ranging from being hired by planning and development firm in Detroit, offered membership into a "young and talented professionals" group, to discussing a possible editor position for a new and upcoming blog. In addition, I finally received my match in the Big Brothers Big Sisters program, and after an awkward first meeting, my Little and I are getting along great. To see her light up when she comes out of the classroom makes the time commitment and the trek to school every week worth it. And if and when I survive this semester, yours truly will be headed to M-I-A, AGAIN, for my 25th birthday. Two words: "it's on." That's all I have to say about that.

Where do I go from here? I'm not sure. It's like having three mystery doors in front of me and I need to decide which one to open. On the bright side, I at least know what my priorities are. Oh, and in regards to dating and relationships, well....

That's something you'll have to ask me about in person.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Hey Mr. Carter....

I've been neglecting my blog (obviously) due to school, work, extracurriculars, and maintaining a blog writer position with ULoop. I shall be back!

Until then....

Enjoy pictures from my sketchbook. I decided to start drawing again since my other pastime (reading) is being dominated by 100-page readings for class. When life calms down- which is looking like that will be May 2012- I'll be back on the ol' dusty blogging trail again.







Sunday, September 11, 2011

Hear My Call

In my very first blog entry, I recalled my initial adventures in writing- one being a diary and the other a journal. Given today marks a decade since America witnessed one of its greatest tragedies and senseless acts of violence, I decided to rummage through old bins to find my black and white composition notebook. And voila:


This journal documents my evolution of thought and emotion in my teenage years, and is at times embarrassing to read. With that aside, the reason I returned to this notebook is to see what I felt 10 years ago on this day. Slightly chilling to read. Not so much for the content, but because I was transported back to the young state of mind who yet to experience unadulterated fear. Here, is my 9/11 journal entry- unfiltered, unedited, and 100% the thoughts of a 14-year old Christina:

9/11/01

I have a lot to tell you. First Joyce had a Sweet 16 party in Minnesota. It went great! She got money, games, jewelry, etc.. Did you know I got into AGBU? Thank God! It's soooo fun! (But more on that later) Oh my gosh, Aaliyah was killed in a plane crash August 25th!!! She was in a private plane that was overloaded.I was so sad, I broke out crying. That shows that you can die at any age. She died at 22 after she recorded an album, and after she filmed two movies...Also, New York's World Trade Center and Twin Towers and D.C.'s Pentagon was hit by terrorist planes! We might have to go to war!!!!!!!! I pray to *God* we don't! I was scared , but praying comforted. Thank God for prayers. Tonight I will pray that people will be comforted and for the families of the 1000's lives lost in those buildings. Thank you God for the gift of life!!! *Dear God, please don't let us go to war! Please! Protect me and my family and whole U.S. dear Lord and please be with President Bush. Guide him and help him to do the right thing. I love you and I praise your holy name. Amen.*


Friday, August 26, 2011

That's The Way It Goes On Love's Train....

*Insert CD*

*Press 'Play'*


1. C.R.U.S.H. - Ciara
2. You Send Me Swingin' - Mint Condition
3. Better Man - Musiq Soulchild
4. Love Ballad - Jeffrey Osborne
5. We're Not Making Love No More - Dru Hill
6. I Get So Lonely - Janet Jackson
7. Only When You're Lonely - Ginuwine
8. You Keep Me Hangin' On - The Supremes
9. After the Love is Gone - Earth, Wind & Fire
10. A Love Of Your Own - The Average White Band
11. Breakdown - Mariah Carey ft. Bone, Thugs-n-Harmony
12. Le BOOM Vent Suite - Jill Scott
13. Love's Train - ConFunKShun

*Eject*

Love's Soundtrack.

Start to finish.



Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Through a Pencil And Leak on the Sheet...

It's always fun to look back at old papers and poems to see how my writing has evolved:

Christina A. Carter
July 08, 2005
College Writing-125
Mrs. Josie Kearns

It was an Easter Sunday. The altar overflowed with beautiful, white lilies, and the sanctuary glowed with vibrant colors from the sunlight that poured through stained-glass windows. Children scurried through the church in their brand new outfits, careless of the scuff marks they made on their shiny, patent leather shoes. The air had only the slightest scent of baked chicken, greens, and cornbread from the cooks preparing an immaculate, Easter dinner for after service. And though you could smell the delicious food being cooked, the scent of cologne dominated the air. It wasn’t the smell of the young boys who greeted one another with handshakes and slaps on the backs, complimenting each others' crisp, stylish suits or alligator-skin shoes. Nor the scent of the older men, who sat towards the back of the church, impatiently staring at gold wristwatches, ignoring the glares from angry wives as they discussed cars and sports. It was a smell that emanated from the church women, young and old alike. Some women strutted through the church in their revealing Easter dresses, smiling at the men and oblivious of the stares coming from the congregation. Others continuously fanned themselves to keep cool, shouted an “Amen!” to the reverend’s every word, and whispered threatening words to impatient children squirming in their seats. It was also the smell of the elderly women, who proudly sat in the front pews, wearing elaborate hats, calling everybody “Sugar.” That smell has stayed in my memory because it has more than one meaning to it. It not only reminds of what was happening on that particular Easter morning, but that very Sunday, I was baptized.

I hesitated as I descended the stairs to the pulpit, nervously glancing at the basin of the still, cerulean water. Because I was only a ten year old child, the water frightened me, and I questioned if I would choke or, even worse, drown. It wasn’t until I looked up at the pastor that I felt a sense of peace. An elderly man, with black-rimmed spectacles and a warm inviting smile, his presence alone caused my fear to subside. I knew I was ready. Shivering as I placed my feet into the water, I gripped my white robe and walked towards the pastor’s outstretched hand. I closed my eyes, telling myself to remain calm and count down from three:

3…

The pastor raises his arms and says a prayer, asking for God to shower his blessings and love upon me.

2…

He gently places his hand upon my forehead, and tells me to hold breath.

1…

He quickly tilts me back into the water, and whispers “You are blessed, my child.”

It was done. I searched the congregation for my parents, and spotted them amongst a faction of the other proud parents of recently baptized children. They both sat with their heads high, tears welled up in their eyes. I, too, held my head high. Though it was a simple event, it was momentous, a day that I will never forget.


Eh. Not too bad.