No Country for Brides That Don't Want to Wear Quinceanera Dresses on Their Wedding Day

The following is an email that I sent to my girlfriends a few weeks ago. As of today, less than 2 months until my wedding day, I still do not have a wedding dress. Jesus wept.

Ladies, today was the first day when I honestly felt that I would not find a wedding gown. And when I say, "would not find a wedding gown", of course I don't mean that I'm going to be at the wedding in some jeans. I mean, a dress that I would actually want to wear would not be on my body. After looking off and on since January (or thereabouts) and devoting most of my summer to actively going from shop to shop, trying on dress after dress, I've gone to every place that I know to go. As you probably already know, about 6 weeks ago, I took to the internet and went hard in the paint. I've explored having the dress of my dreams made. None of these things have yielded any desirable results. And the whole time, I thought, "I don't care. I'm gonna get MY dress."

Today, for the first time, I felt completely defeated.  

The thing is, there's this one Nicole Miller dress that I wanted more than that one Vera Wang White from a while ago, and even more than the first dress with the asymmetrical ruffled skirt that I tried on toward the beginning of this year... But I don't necessarily believe in "one dress for one bride". Similar to how I don't believe in one soul mate for one person. I know opinions (especially among women) vary on both of these subjects. And the soul mate thing is a whole other conversation for another time, but I'll just say that as a person that is decidedly more "head" than "heart", I believe that logically, math dictates that there can never be just ONE of any possible match. I could be happy in a number of dresses, I'm sure. I just have no clue as to where those dresses are.

At this point, I am about 97% sure that I'm going to end up in a dress that I don't care about, don't care to see, document, preserve, or think about when the wedding is over. Unless awesome dresses start raining down from the sky. This is sad, because though I was confident that I wasn't going to do the bridal cry when I found the dress that I wanted to wear, I at the very least wanted to like what I would have on. I guess life isn't fair.

All of that is to say, I suppose I'm still looking, 'cause, I can't wear jeans. I mean, I could. I probably should. But, anyway. Because I'm completely over looking for a dress, probably permanently underwhelmed, and just ready for this to be over, I'll probably be asking you for your opinion more than ever. Since my idea of what is attractive clearly isn't shared by bridal gown designers, manufacturers, retailers, and wearers, I have no idea of what "looks good" anymore. It's all ugly, white, and beaded, to me, so I'm just trying to find the least ugly of the bunch. I guess it's sort of like adopting a puppy.

The Reason [I Suspect] As to Why I Haven't Gotten My Security Deposit Back

As you may recall, my former landlord is an incompetent jerk. You remember that time he acted a fool when my rent check got lost in the mail and that other time when I gave him 30 days written and verbal notice that I was vacating my apartment (per the terms of my month to month lease and in compliance with California state law) and he acted like he had a problem with that? This is the man that often took forever to make repairs, dragged his feet about scheduling time to do a final walk through of my apartment once I'd moved out, and finally, showed up 45 minutes after the mutually agreed upon time. Well, it's been over six months since I moved out, and (SURPRISE!) this fool hasn't returned my security deposit to me.

According to California state law, a landlord must return a tenant's security deposit in full within 21 days of the last day of occupancy. Typically, that 21 day countdown starts on the day of the final walk through. If the landlord is withholding any part of the security deposit, he or she must notify the former tenant in writing with an itemized list of deductions. So, if you kicked a hole in the wall or stole a light fixture, your landlord would have to send you something that basically says, "I'm deducting such and such amount for the repair of the thingamajig." In my case, the apartment was in excellent condition and thoroughly cleaned. Of course it showed of a reasonable amount of wear and tear which is understandable with 3 years of occupancy. However it didn't need much done to it in preparation for the next tenant. Perhaps a coat of paint.

I had paid my final rent, trusting that despite his shoddy track record, he would do the right thing and pay what he owed in a reasonable amount of time. But, as R. Kelly so eloquently stated, "Haters gon' hate. Ballers gon' ball," and true to his character, my landlord did not do the correct and proper thing. I wrote him a nice email, as a reminder that he owed me some good money. No response. This is the point at which I started calling him. And of course, he participated in shade and didn't answer his phone. He didn't respond to my messages. He was a sucka emcee. But I really want to call him something else. But I won't, 'cause my Mama raised me right.

One day, my fiance called him and cursed him out. I think he did it in Spanish. My landlord called me, damn near crying (like a little bi-- Oh... I said I wouldn't call him somethin' else. Nevermind). He was a fountain of excuses. He was offended that I would take such measures and almost went as far as to say that my fiance doesn't know his life. I told him, "Listen. That's the man I'm marrying and currently residing under the same roof with. It is absolutely his business. He doesn't have to know your life. You owe me. So, you owe us. Cough up the dinero, compadre." And then he started with the promises to pay. "Just give me some time," he said. That was back in June.

So, now I have to sue him.

Really, ain't nobody got time for that. But, I have to do what I have to do, mostly out of principal. I've been living without that money for a long time and [thankfully] I hadn't hinged any dreams on it or made any plans for it. That money would be extra. But the point is that its MINES. Not his. So, now I gotta take attention away from things that I want to do to go deal with some foolishness that I shouldn't have to. Such is life.

Here's the thing though. I have a theory as to why he "hasn't been able" to return my security deposit to me. Remember that one time last summer when Ashley Catharine McGinty (also known as "That Girl") came to stay in my spare bedroom and proceeded to make messes and not clean up after herself, try not to pay rent, and finally not return my house key to me once she left? Well, about a week after I had moved out of that apartment, I stopped by the premises to check and see if there were any random pieces of mail for me that may have been mis-delivered to the old address... And I saw that someone had already taken up residence in my old apartment. Hmmm.

This struck me as strange since, as far as I knew, my old landlord had not advertised the apartment as vacant and it was still the middle of the month. Surely, at that point, he hadn't had any time to prep the apartment for a new tenant. For someone to be occupying the place within a week was just...

Hey. I suspect that That Girl (who, as far as we know, still has my keys), let herself into the vacant apartment  once the coast was clear and took up residence. Listen. Stranger things have happened. And with a squatter in the unit [and California laws regarding tenancy being what they are] there would be no way to swiftly order an eviction, physically remove the unwanted occupant, and rent it out to a new tenant. Therefore there would be no way to obtain a new security deposit or collect any rent... And maybe no way to return my deposit to me. With his broke behind. I'm just sayin'.

As you can see [and probably already knew], my life is full of the finest foolery. Now, excuse me while I go write a check to Southern California Edison in the amount of $.57. Good day.

100 Thousand Poets for Change at A Mic and Dim Lights

This Thursday, September 27th at A Mic and Dim Lights in Pomona, I will be performing along with a small but deadly gang of talented poets in 100 Thousand Poets for Change. It's a special night of poetry organized by David A. Romero in conjunction with the grassroots educational organization, 100 Thousand Poets for Change. The organization was originally conceived by Michael Rothenberg and Terri Carrion, as a worldwide set of events to take place either simultaneously or at different points throughout the year. Future plans for the organization involve raising funds to help poetry, music and other arts organizations world-wide organize peace and sustainability events.

The evening promises to be inspirational and memorable, thanks in part to an opening feature set from Mic and Dim Lights founder and host BessKepp and music provided by in house DJ, JB. I'm excited to be a part of this event and stand in solidarity with a diverse group of poets around the world, gathered to promote serious social, environmental, and political change. I hope you'll join us.

A Mic and Dim Lights Presents 100 Thousand Poets for Change

300 W. Second St. 

Pomona, CA 91766

Thursday Sept. 27, 2012

9pm

$3

The Cost of Stupidity

I got this out of my mailbox the other day:

Let's talk about this. First of all, I haven't been a customer of Southern California Edison in over 6 months. In March, I moved to a part of Los Angeles that they don't provide power to and therefore had to discontinue my service with them and take up with the Department of Water and Power (who I hate, for good reasons that I don't have the energy to get into). Southern California Edison sent me my final bill, probably in April. I paid it. We're done. Sooooo... what the hell is this?

Second: I don't even have an account with them. It was closed in April. So, again I ask... What the hell is this? Third: Even if I still had an account with them, in the span of six months how would I manage to only owe them .$57? FIFTY SEVEN CENTS. And that is the total that they arrived at after a $.06 discount. Wait a minute. This is a joke, right?

So, wait. Not only do I mysteriously owe them the absurdly minuscule amount of $.57 on an account that hasn't been active for half a year, but they were generous enough to apply a discount to an amount that was so important that they had to generate a bill, utilize good paper and ink, and apply postage so as to collect these funds. 

This reminds me of the time a few months ago when AT&T was sending me bills in the amount of $0.00 for months after I had canceled my internet service. These utility providers are like pushy ex-boyfriends who can't accept that you don't want anything they have to offer anymore. I don't have any energy for harassment from companies in the form of false bills, unnecessary paperwork, and junk mail. Please, go die in a fire.

The most ridiculous part of this entire scenario is that it probably cost Southern California Edison more than $.57 to send me this stupid bill. My plan is to call them up and do a dollars worth of cussin'. 

So... Yeah

Remember when I called myself participating in the "Blog a Day" challenge back in August? Well, forget all about that. [insert sigh here] Listen people, you're gonna have to cut me some slack. I'm getting married in a matter of days and I have no dress, my child done turned 13 and is tryin' to get grown all in my face, my computer has an attitude problem, I ain't got no job and have been going on interviews were I have to wait for 45 minutes! Life is hard! I have waist length yarn braids and a household to maintain. And apparently, according to Southern California Edison, I owe them $.57, though I haven't been a customer of theirs in about 6 months. Admittedly, blogging isn't always at the top of my list of things to do. But thankfully, everyday is a new day.

I actually have a couple of things that I've been working on that I will share with you all in the coming weeks and months. Also, in addition to prepping for a lifetime of commitment to my soon to be husband, I'm getting ready to compete in a slam that will take place 6 days after we're married. Who agrees to cut their honeymoon short to go compete in a slam? *points to self* Clearly, I'm out of my mind. And you know that I haven't seriously competed in a slam since 2007, so I have no idea what I'm actually doing, or what came over me. Is this a mid-life crisis? I need answers.

Anyway, as the year's end approaches, there are some exciting things taking place, and I'm not just talking about my own life. I was telling a friend the other day that I really get the feeling that 2013 is gonna be poppin'. "Gonna be poppin'"... That's probably not an acceptable term in the literary world. But, whatever. That's what it's going to be. Poppin'. Tell ya mama, tell ya daddy. The elections are goin' down, folks are getting married left and right, people are starting businesses, being creative on never before seen levels, and making major moves. It's pretty inspirational. I'm trying to be a part of that particular movement. So thank you for your continued readership (or if you have no idea who I am or how you ended up at this blog, thanks for wandering on over), and thank you in advance for partaking in the ramblings, observations, a foolishness to come.

Not Buying What You Sellin': The Curious Case of Chavis Carter

Back in the All We Care About is Chick-Fil-A days, I briefly mentioned an incident in which a 21 year old black man by the name of Chavis Carter turned up dead after a run in with the Jonesboro police in Arkansas. After a routine traffic stop and a search, Carter was handcuffed and placed in the back of the squad car. According to officers at the scene, they heard a thumping noise, turned around, and saw the young man dead in the back of the car, where they had placed him. Cause of death: bullet wound to the head.

Supposedly, Chavis had "pulled out a hidden gun and shot himself". With his hands cuffed behind his back. Yeah. Okay.

We're supposed to believe that the officer that searched Chavis missed an entire gun. And this alleged gun was so inconspicuous, that an experienced, trained officer wasn't able to detect it, however, it was accessible enough that a person with their hands cuffed behind their back could quickly retrieve it from it's hiding place and shoot themselves in the head, with no assistance.

Listen, I may have been born yesterday, but it was early in the day. Jonesboro PD needs to stop it with their lies, fallacies, and fairy tales.

Oh, but they won't. Now, they've created a video to demonstrate how an individual could magically produce a gun and absolutely manage to off themselves with their hands behind their back.

See how far wicked folks will go to persist in evil? They're out here making videos. Who even has time for that? They need to exit, stage left with that garbage.

Based on the re-telling of events, Chavis Carter is some sort of magical negro and apparently, this video is the proof. Because, clearly, a Black man mysteriously dying while in police custody doesn't happen, and if it does, sorcery is likely to blame. Chavis' mother is quoted as saying, "...My son wasn't suicidal." I'm sure she would also argue that her son is not a wizard.

Oh, and did I mention that Chavis was left handed? Why wasn't that reflected in the video? To me, the omission of that very important bit of information in this "demonstration" is further proof that these folks are not interested in telling the truth or enlightening the public. This is some bullshit propaganda, meant to satiate those who doubt their story and quell the community's cries for justice.

Nice try Jonesboro PD. We don't believe you. In the words of Jay-Z, "You need more people". However, even if you had them, I would quickly dismiss your supporters as murderous liars who use race to justify use of excessive force.

When You Wait for 45 Minutes to be Interviewed for a Job

Is it just me, or is it rude as hell for potential employers to schedule interviews with applicants for a certain time, and then be ridiculously late? I've been on 2 interviews lately where I showed up at the agreed upon time, only to experience a significant wait.

This one company was doing the most when they had me fill out all kinds of paper work, answer essay questions, beat the kids and mow the lawn, with these crazy wait times in between all of the activities and obstacle courses. I began to wonder if this was a Fortune 500 company, or if I had inadvertently walked in through the wrong door, into the county building. Honey, I was waiting, and waiting, and waiting. And then, they brought my ass back for a second interview (which was really the 3rd and 4th at this point)... and had me waiting again! And they had the nerve to not hire me. Rude asses.

Yesterday, I showed up to a Beverly Hills adjacent office for a 10 a.m interview, and ended up sitting in the lobby for 45 minutes. Come on, ya'll! The heifer that was supposed to be interviewing me came strutting in at about 10:40 a.m, in bermuda shorts, weave all windblown, sippin' on a Starbucks frappuccino. Ma'am. Meanwhile, I had a parking meter that wasn't going to stay fed forever and a child that needed to be picked up from an early dismissal school day across town. Had I gotten a parking ticket or been late to get my kid, I would've been livid. Fortunately, the interview was pretty fast, the vibe was good, and all ended well.

However, I'm leery of employers that are apparently so disorganized, or so disinterested in the fact that you may have a busy day as well, that they can't honor interview times that they have specified. I understand that sometimes a meeting will run late, or you get backed up with your interviews. I've actually been on the other end and know that it's difficult to manage a regular work day and add to the chaos with a parade of applicants. But, that's not really my problem. Similar to how it wouldn't be their problem if I couldn't get my affairs in order in a way that would allow me to show up to my interview on time. There's no doubt that had I come Naomi Campbell cat-walking into their office 45 minutes late, I would have been informed in a very stern manner that I had forfeited my opportunity to interview for the position.

I understand that I'm trying to get something [a job], and they're providing it [employment], therefore it places them in a position of "power"... But let's be fair. A 10 minute wait is respectable, 20 minutes would be acceptable, 30 minutes is questionable... But 45 minutes is unforgivable.

Whenever possible, I try to arrive early to interviews. It is out of respect for people's time, and also because I want to show that I am responsible and can be trusted to exceed expectations when it comes to reliability. I want an employer to take the same care. Try to impress me. I've turned down jobs before, so this isn't a one sided situation! I'm not only out her tryin' to get chose, but I'm choosing. 'Cause if you can't be on time for an interview, what else are you gonna be late for? I can't have anybody dragging their feet about my paycheck or my benefits. No, baby. In the words of Sweet Brown, "Ain't nobody got time for that!"