Showing posts with label Ain't Nothin Wrong with That. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ain't Nothin Wrong with That. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 19, 2016

New Year Priorities: 1. Mental, Emotional, and Physical Health


This is something that I don't ever really think about. It is because I consider myself to be very mentally and emotionally healthy, and I'm pretty confident in my physical health as well. I look pretty good and for the most part, I feel good. Of course, we all have our days when the world is heavy, or we're still carrying that grief from that loss, or there's some anxiety or manifestations of stress, for whatever reason. 

I'm a person, not a machine. I'm dealing with things and experiencing a full range of emotion, just like everyone else. That may seem like a statement that merits a "no shit, Sherlock" response, but I think it's important to make that clear. Because, I've created a reputation for myself amongst people that know me well or may not really know much about me at all, that I am, for lack of a better word, a machine. I typically don't show a lot of emotion. For the most part, my shit is always together. I appear to have everything under control and seem unfazed by shenanigans and bullshit. The emotions that I do express are very controlled, never out of hand or volatile. I'm somewhat predictable in that way. Logic rules me. I'm stoic. I inherited that from my Virgo mama and manifest the traits of a Virgo moon. However, I am a person, not a machine.

I remember one time I expressed that my feelings were hurt about something a friend did and their response was, "You're being dramatic." Trust, there was nothing dramatic about how I communicated my disappointment... I simply said, in a very calm and sort of matter of fact way, "Hey, that hurt my feelings." But I realized that, because I, for once, revealed that I have actual feelings, it was a dramatic production. Why? Because, I'd never done that before. It was somewhat out of character. It was "much" and "extra". Had I been someone else, who had had a history of "feels", they wouldn't have batted an eye. That was my doing. I had masked my human-ness with my machine-like nature.

Well, here I am. I feel things, it's true. Everybody, get over it.

I'm actually an empath and I've always been. I can literally, physically feel people's emotions or changes in mood. And I think about others -- like, "How would this make them feel?". I care about people's feelings.

Sometimes I allow my logic to cancel out my own feelings. Actually, most of the time. And then, there are times when my thoughts actually allow me to feel more deeply, especially when it involves another person's pain. I have been overcome with grief, just thinking about someone else -- a complete stranger -- losing someone they love.

The news makes me cry real tears. Racism, sexism, xenophobia, transphobia, and homophobia have physically and emotionally worn me the fuck out. Police brutality and "post racial America" have recast me into a pendulum that swings back and forth between depression and blind rage. I sat at my desk at work, pregnant with Rosie, and cried listening to the George Zimmerman trial. The comments section of online news articles makes me feel homicidal. I'm pretty sure I'm suffering from PTSD.

Sometimes I have to step away from this shit. We all do. But it's hard not to want to expend every drop of energy trying to correct this societal madness. And yet, even if we did wear ourselves down to our bones, our individual efforts alone would not suffice. We have to take turns digging a tunnel out of this prison. You rest while I dig, you dig while I rest, we all take turns and we'll see freedom.

There is this thing called "self care". I don't think I'm so good at it. I work 2 jobs and go to school. I'm typing this at 1:25 am when Lord knows I'm weary. But when else will I get this done? There's literally no time. I have no time for a single thing, much less myself. And when I get too tired, my body gives out.

Somewhere in this year, I need to get a handle on allowing all of the things that I have to do and the beanstalk of a list of things that I want to do that just goes up, up, up into the sky, to come secondary to my overall health. Toxic folk, toxic news, toxic situations, must all be dealt with only when I'm fortified enough to do so and not before. I'm saying, "No," more often than ever, so that's a good first step. I'm being honest about my feelings, even if it makes people uncomfortable, or if it isn't pleasant or if it makes things inconvenient. That's just the hard truth. It is not my intention to hurt or slight anyone. It's just that, I've been entrusted with taking care of me and I think it's important that I do a decent job of it.

So, there's that. Out the gate in a brand new year, my first priority is to put my mental, emotional, and physical health first. I think that if I do that, everything else will fall into place.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

This Shit Right Here, Son!



This hoodie right here is giving me life. It's just the sort of eye candy a girl needs to get through daylight savings, the middle of the week... and being poor. Okay, actually, maybe I need more than a picture of a bad-ass hoodie to get me through poverty. But you get my point.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

How to Kill the Game...

Be this girl...


Make this video...


Release this album...


And there you have it. Easy. Now other "artists" can go kill themselves.


Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Monday, November 16, 2009

Respect tha BOOM

Just last week, I had to lightweight bang on a negro about Boom. If you don't kno by now whut Boom is, honestly I don't kno whut to tell you aside from, "Get your life together." For now, I will say, Boom is about showing, not really about telling, and if you have been Boomed on (which likely, you have, at some point in your life) then you have a general idea of whut tha movement consists of. One of my very best girls and fellow Boomer, Tamara Blue wrote a really great poem about The Boom Girls and in light of last weeks incident with tha disrespectful male (who was no doubt jealous of our Booming abilities), and me coming dangerously close to punchin' another dude in his lying mouth, I wanted to share this goodness with ya'll.

If I had a sister
Her words would carry weight
Her style would be copied
And copied, and copied again
Paintings in her likeness
Would hang on walls in homes or buildings
All over the city, state and county
Fashions fly
Accessories exceptional

My sister would
Give me advice
And I would listen
Baring no resemblance
In facial features or structure
But still sisters like
Boom
Hugs so tight
you feel the magic in her arms
eye brows arched to perfection
With a bald head and Boom ring
Red hair, Blue hair, dread locs,
mo hawks, afros, weaves or wigs

A killer switch
In flats or 6 inch heels

praised for her way with words
her skills in the kitchen
and the bedroom


Never meek
Always sweet
But ready
at the drop of a dime
To Boom on a muthafucka if need be

Cuz sometimes
People need to be hit in they mouth
To remember that talking shit can hurt them

My sister would
have a degree
Be a single mother
A touring poet
A preschool teacher
An actor, activist, stylist,
A singer
A motivational speaker
A preacher
And a college drop out

My parents may have only had
One girl
And I may be there only daughter
But thank goodness
God has blessed me
With some sisters





Thursday, September 24, 2009

GET! IT!

It was tha leg kicks that did it for me...

Thursday, July 23, 2009

When Black Women Cut All Their Hair Off...

About a week after I first cut all my hair off (for tha billionth time in my life) I had an interesting little exchange with tha mail man at my job. He's a really cool, older black man named Jimmy who has a bit of a southern accent, regularly talks about his wife, and chats with us about sports. He's a father type, who probably goes to church on Sundays and knos a little somethin about cars. No nonsense, real decent kinda guy. He came into my office as part of his daily routine, placed our mail on a table, sat our packages beside tha mail, and as he was collecting our out going parcels looked at me and asked, "Are you sick?"

Of course, I was confused.

Then he went on to say something to tha effect of, "Well, I saw all your hair was gone and didn't kno if you were sick..."

Which led me to a thought...

In tha Black Woman's quest to find beauty in herself, she's been led down a path that dictates that she must grow and keep as much hair on her head as she possibly can at all times. I kno this, partially because I am a Black woman and also, because at one point I was a hairstylist. Not only would a good number of black women fall out and die at tha mere thought of cutting off their hair, but most won't consider tha possibility that they might be able to function in life should their hair decide to wave, curl, or (GASP!) nap up. For tha average Black woman in America, there is simply no fate worse than bald or nappy headed-ness.

Which leads me to a fundamental truth about Black Women...

If she has cut all her hair off, she is probably (A) DYING OF CANCER, or (B) HAS COMPLETELY LOST HER MIND.

Well, I ain't dying of Cancer, praise White Jesus. So, tha latter must be true. I mean, why else would anyone do this...



And intentionally go from this...




To this...




Observe tha slightly crazy look that was already present in my eyes before I went off tha deep end and took some clippers to my scalp. Notice tha crazed grin in tha "after" photo. Clearly, something is wrong. And whut's worse is that apparently, tha insanity is contagious. My best sista-friend from high school went from this...



To this...



Menacing! And whut exactly is it that she's got hiding behind that door back there? Answer: You wouldn't wanna kno!

And this po sista...



Well, she been a stark raving mad lunatic, but doesn't tha lack of hair make it more apparent?



I certainly think so.

You may be asking, "So, Nikki... whut exactly is your point?" and to that, my answer is, "I really don't kno... lemmme think..."

[insert elevator music here]

Okay, yes. My point is whut reactions to Solange's recent chop confirmed. As a Black Woman, you can't do any of tha following things:

*Love yourself
*Think you're beautiful
*Refuse to hav said beauty defined by society
*Not want to be boxed in
*Feel tha wind and/or sun on your scalp
*Go swimming and put your head UNDER tha water
*Be satisfied with tha way God made you
*Not be terrified by naps
*Not think that your hair is your beauty
*Not want to put harmful chemicals in your hair
*Want to look Afrikan
*Not be concerned with whut a man might think
*Look in tha mirror and not think you're ugly
*Not compare yourself to others
*Want to look and feel like yourself
*Not sit in a salon for 6 hours every two weeks
*Not strive to be perceived as "beautiful" by Eurocentric standards
*Be satisfied
*Feel like you're enough, as you are

And you most certainly, must not, under any circumstances allow your hair to be nappy. God forbid you cut it off.


If you do, you're sick. You're crazy. Most of all, you're ugly.



Remember it. Own it. Embody it. Live it. Teach it to your daughters and preach it to your sons. It's tha only way to quell tha hideous scourge of crazy bald headed black women that hav come to invade your consciousness. They may not hav Cancer, but they are a type of insidious, parasitic disease, feasting upon all that is good, acceptable, and decent. Shifting your paradigm, fuckin' with your perception of beauty, broadening your horizons, trapping you in their webs of nappiness, blinding you with tha glare of tha sun reflecting off their shiney scalps. They'll make you crazy, too, if you're not careful... So be careful.

Mothers, don't let your daughters grow up to own clippers. All that great hair that you so lovingly permed and pressed will be gone in an instant. And then, whut will become of her? She might end up somewhere... thinkin. She might hav tha nerve to hav a little bit of pride (ugh!). PRIDE DON'T PAY THA BILLS!

[laughter. Lots of it]

Forreal, tho... all jokes aside... this is not a judgement on Black women who chose to grow their hair long or straighten it (tho, I do feel some kinda major way about that, but I won't talk about it, cause I don't want to hurt nobody's feelings... today). I just want to encourage all women to be brave, and bold, make tha best decisions that you can for yourself and love you, no matter whut people like, don't like, or may hav to say. God made you, and that is enough to make you beautiful.

And tha church says, "BOOM."

Monday, July 6, 2009

In Case You Missed It: Dwele in Memory of MJ

When he's not doing McDonald's commercials, I love Dwele. Tha following is not a McDonald's commercial (which I'm grateful for). Instead, it's Dwele doing a little instrumental tribute to Mike Jack hours after his passing. I first saw this on my younger, secretly Asian brother's blog about a week ago and loved it, loved it, LOVED IT. If you don't love it, too, your musical taste may be considered suspect.

Get into this.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

This Blessed Me... Literally

Yes, please cut all tha way up and don't you dare stop! I want to go to tha church that this choir sings at. Admittedly, I was a little annoyed initially when some of them were clapping on tha down beat (you're in a choir, at tha minimum I'mma need you to kno when to clap), but once they got it together, I was able to drop down low and sweep tha flo' with it... in tha most biblical sense, of course.

*insert mischievous giggles here*

I need to experience this level of audacious ridiculum in Gospel form as oft as possible. And I especially want to thank tha tiny soprano in tha striped shirt and tha alto sista in tha back with tha real hair down to her booty. I got saved watching this video.

Monday, June 22, 2009

Do Your Part

I decided that my project for tha summer will be to get a date with Lil' C from So You Think You Can Dance. Originally, I was gonna start this blog post off by saying that he could be "Baby-Boo" potential, but after thinking about it, I figured that might not be likely, as we probably would end up hating each other shortly after meeting. Pessimistic, I kno... but, hey... that's usually tha way it turns out. So I figured I would just hav a very minimum goal... one that didn't hav any expectations attached to it and would be fairly easy to fulfill. He's in LA. I'm in LA. He likes big words. So do I. You see how this is working already?

On tha opposite end, there are things that could potentially be disastrous to our "relationship": He's an Aquarius. I'm a Pisces. I'm sane. He's probably not. I'm 28. He's 26. Eeeeek! This is why I'm just taking it one step at a time.

A date.

I'm fond of this brutha. He be puttin his tie on (with a hat, worn backward, as it should be) and sittin' on tha panel with tha white people, holdin' his own, while still maintaining a certain level of "hood" that I appreciate. He's cute, but not in an overly cute way. He's verbose... in an overly complicated way. In tha last episode of So You Think You Can Dance he critiqued tha dancers with phrases such as, "There's a certain divinity to your movement," and, "I believe that tha primary focus of all obstacles is to induce labor so that progression can be born."

LOVE IT. Every convoluted bit.

Folks be tryin to act like they don't kno whut he's talkin about. Shut tha hell up! Stop lookin' confused! You kno whut he's sayin!

But back to whut I'm sayin. I'm workin' on this date. Now, I kno for a fact that it is very likely that I kno several people that could probably put me in contact with him. Actually, let me re-phrase that... Put him in contact with me. I'm old fashioned like that. This brutha need to call me, ask me out on a date, come pick me up, and take me for a stroll through tha park where we will try to one up each other with our use of 4 syllable words, I will twirl my parisol, and he may lay his coat over a puddle for me to walk across.

Let's make this happen people. I'm counting on you.



If you've seen this man (tha black one, not tha old British guy), you need to direct him to me, in an expeditious manner (that means quickly). Thank you.

Friday, June 5, 2009

Death of Autotune

I normally don't publish two posts in one day, but this here is breaking news of tha most important kind: NEW MUSIC! And whut makes it even better is that it's Jay-Z (and if you don't kno how I feel about that brutha... then you need to get familiar).

OH JAY!

And whut's funny is that earlier today, I was just thinkin about how much I love him and need to dedicate a post to him. See how tha Lord just works things right on out!



Apparently, HOT 97 just played Death of Autotune not even a full hour ago. YUMMY GOODNESS! Every bit of it. I'm all over it, boys and girls. I think I've listened to it about 27 times. I know tha words.

And he still gonna get another post from me, cause he's just that fuckin' dope. Now, excuse me while I run around my livingroom chanting, "HO-VA! HO-VA! HO-VA!" for tha next 30 minutes or so.

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Whut's About to Happen

So, yeah, I've fallen off my blogging a little bit. So whut. I think you needed this time to detox from all tha mess and ridiculum that I pride myself on sharing with tha World. Its time to be serious. Well, not all tha way, cause I don't even think complete seriousness in this forum is a reality...Its time to be MORE serious. "Why?" you may ask. Well, cause it's about to be National Poetry Month, bitches! So whut's about to happen (for tha second year in a row) is I'm gonna join poets all over tha country in challenging myself to write a poem a day. Tha idea isn't so much that it's a complete, perfect poem, but really that it's a first draft. Expect it to be posted here by midnight every night. Some of them might be long...more than likely most will be short. Some may be really "deep" and/or esoteric. Some may be funny. Most of them will probably suck. And then, when April is over, it'll be back to our regularly scheduled mayhem, mischief, and general fuckery. Happy poem-ing!

Sunday, February 22, 2009

This Week's Nigga Please Award...

This week's Nigga Please Award goes to every major city in tha United States that doesn't have a Malcolm X Library. Get your shit together.

San Diego has one! San Diego! Of all places! Why everybody else trippin'?



Wednesday, February 18, 2009

April Jones' Daughter

My friend April Jones doesn't have a daughter, but if she did, it would be this strange, random little girl...

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Ain't Nothin' Wrong with That!

There are few things I enjoy more in life than a stack of pancakes. I like them even more when I didn't have to make them or pay for them. Today, until 2 pm, Denny's is giving away free Grand Slams. Yes, I said free. Free pancakes, eggs, bacon strips and/or sausage links to any customer visiting any of their restaraunt locations today. It has been estimated that up to 2 million people will be taking advantage of tha free offer today and that Denny's locations will be capable of producing 100 Grand Slams an hour. Hey, ain't nothin' wrong with that! I'm currently trying to devise a plan to go get me some free and you should, too.