Monday, October 30, 2006

A Very Special So...Wise...Sista Moment

Shout out to the blaquescribes...
DP's forever my muse.:)

I wasn’t by any means an abused child, but in my case, being the
youngest was a constant ass kicking.

My older brothers and I can look back on it all now and laugh, and we
do quite frequently. But somehow the echoes of amusement fade late at
night, when I'm balled up in bed, spooned by only the darkness. It
feels like I'm 5 again. Unable to sleep, listening for signs of
insomnia from elsewhere in the house. It always seemed like I was the
only one awake, the only one not settled. The only one without a tag
team partner. Mommy had Daddy, and Rick had Andrew. Twins. Dumb luck.
Then there was me: the wrong age and the wrong gender. I didn’t fit in
well at all. I needed help tying my shoes and pouring my own cereal.
Eric was always so PISSED to have to do the most minute tasks to help
me, so early on I learned to do shit for myself. Taught myself to read,
swim, think logically, play basketball, hide secrets, tell lies, avoid
ass whuppins. Not as a means of independence, but to just not get in
the way. Not be a nuisance, but to garner some positive attention and
respect. I suppose that's why as an adult, the things I need most are
the exact things I hate to ask for.

My brothers and I laugh about it a lot, and I admit it's funny how they
would torture me for snitching, or leave me home alone knowing I was
terrified. We laugh about how to this day I won't open the door after
sundown, and how I made up a black pretend friend named Libby who was
with me when the real (white) Libby, whose grandparents lived on my
block, would move away at the end of the summer.

But my brothers are rarely made privy to the legacy that that childhood
isolation still bestows on me 25 years later. Despite having a gang of
neighborhood friends and being likeable and popular in school, I grew
up a lonely kid, ignored by big brothers, unattended by loving yet hard
working parents. So as an adult, rolling dolo is second nature to me.
Writers, after all, work alone. But it also makes me appreciate it when
people do show up. I'm used to doing things for myself, living with the
consequences of making bad decisions without any consultation, and most
of all I'm quite used to being disappointed when I do accept help that
never arrives. HAVING someone who is not there when you need them is
worse than having no one at all. But that's the beauty of me...I'm
always there for me.

So while I find comfort and normalcy in being alone, there are still
days when I sit back helplessly and watch the cycle of my issues scroll
over and over again. I could recite the outcomes verbatim. When shit
goes down and I need help, I roll up in bed and turn within. And I beg
time to pause for my issues to pass, like a family of ducks across a
street. Instead of asking for help I figure, if there is indeed
strength in numbers, I need to start counting. And I do. And in those
times I realize I'm not alone. I have my brothers (we laugh about it, but
they would literally kill a ngga over their little sister), my mom, my friends.
I have God. I have me.

So, I woke up early this morning, after little sleep, because I
realized life was happening without me.

~Wise...not getting soft. Promise. In fact, the next episode of "She's Just Not Feeling You" is entitled...IF WISE WAS FCUKING ME.

Stay tuned for your local news. ;)
PS...Not too late for fantasy hoops. My brother's taught me to play. :) Holler at me if you wanna be down.

Thursday, October 26, 2006

Harlem Blogtrotters

My girl Nikki has football on lock...and frankly, I wouldnt be able to keep up with that kind of roster. But fantasy hoops is my shit. Call me Tim Duncan cuz I bust my brothers' azzes 2 out of the last 3 seasons.

Anyone else care to challenge me?

It's easy to play. You choose a roster, and you get points congruent to your players' performances. And it's kind of like the stock market, because your players also earn you money and you can buy and sell them.

But if you wanna be down you gotta pick your team by the season opener, which is 10/31.



You've been invited to join So...Weazy's Fantasy Hoops Challenge Season 1 league. Accept this challenge and get your team now!

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4.) Join an "Existing League" using the following league information:

League: Harlem Blogtrotters

If there are spots still available in the league, you will be ready to begin playing. Make sure to sign up now, before the league fills up! Good luck and enjoy the season!

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Monday, October 23, 2006

The Honeymoon

This my new boo...

Been kickin it about a week now, so we're still in that silly-grinnin honeymoon phase, where we know we're feeling eachother, and it feels really good to be together, but we're trying to play it cool. Learn how the other likes to do things, sync our routines, habits and preferences.

Even though I know I'm in love already...I mean, who wouldnt be head over heels for that smooth complexion, and sleek physique? But I can't front, I'd gotten really used to my ex, and truth be told, there's some shit I'm not feeling about the new jack. Some shit that I been tiptoeing around, for the sake of keeping peace, I guess. Maybe not trying to come off as picky or overbearing or nagging so soon. I just want us to take it slow and have a good time and then get to a point where we're comfortable discussing the shit that's not all sweet.

Wasting eachother's time, basically.

While I may be waxing poetic (and perhaps pathetic) about my computer, some a y'all were really feeling me, cuz that's how you are when YOU meet someone special.

Actin all fake, trying to make wine outta water.

Why we love wasting time?

Cuz everyone deserves a honeymoon.



PS...Why did I think I would have missed the whole blog thing a lot more than I did?

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

Injured Reserve

Sidelined indefinitely til I replace my …

With a new one a'these…


Disqus for She's Just Not Feeling You...

  • So...Wise??

    My photo
    Our Nation's (HIV) way of Harlem, NY and Upsteezy NY
    I'm older than I look, and stupider than you think. But I'm quite proud of my sharp eye for The Ridiculous, and by Ridiculous, of course I mean Me.