The List Lives On...

Not even 3 months into my 30th year on earth, and I’ve managed to accomplish a few of the things on my NOW THAT I’M 30 list.

The latest was the one I thought would be most elusive…I had to whup a chick’s azz.

Backstory…
(Dateline – Bawtuhmore, Murrland. The Corner)


This my corner right here. I done seen and heard it all happen right at this crossroad. [Do I sound like Charles.S.Dutt0n yet?]



Well, one night last week, at around, oh, 3 am, I heard trouble coming down the block. Within minutes it had reached the door of my building, and climbed the stairs.

“I told you not to have that last drink, yo. I TOLD you. But you didn’t listen.”

That’s Barnyard, my downstairs neighbor. He’s a dead ringer for Shawn Mar.ion with (pre-last-album-release haircut promo stunt) Busta dreads. Cool, cheerful guy, with no discernable career. (that’s not to say he’s not gainfully and legally employed. I just don’t know what it is. When we first met he told me he travels a lot for work, so I’m guessing something in either music or unemployment). He’s always smiling and always laughing and always surrounded by friends.

Dude also has a penchant for little white women. And weed, but that’s a whole other story. And he ends at least every other sentence with, “YO”. So on this night he and his girl come stumbling in and wake up the block. It’s not usually a big deal, but it’s 3 am on a weeknight, yo.

“Barnyard, why you lying on me?! Why!!” She’s crying hysterically, and by hysterically, I mean slobbering drunk.

“I told you, yo, but you don’t never listen to me! I told you you’re a different person when you drink. Get the fcuk out!” He’s mad calm, and by calm, I mean probably high as fcuk.

They’re nothing if not entertaining. The best part is that he’s usually so impatiently patient. He always calmly takes the time to explain to his girls their ills. Show her a better way. This night it sounded like he was intent on teaching her a lesson.

“You pushing me? Who the fcuk you think you are, little girl? You crazy? Don’t you EVER put your hands on me!”

Then a pause. Almost like the argument was taking a deep breath. Actually, he was choking the chick out.

“Why you choke me?!” (she’s throwing shit around now). “I didn’t do nothing, Barnyard!”

“You didn’t do nothing? You put your effing hands on me and you drunk as shit, yo!”

I always wondered how deep fights in interracial relationships go down. Like, does the chick call him a trifling Nuh, right off the top?

“I’m calling the cops if you don’t get the eff out my house!”

“Barnyard, I’m a white girl and you’re a black man. Who you think they gonna believe?”

I bet she would have had him at, nig.

Anywoo…if you’re just joining us, it’s now 3:30am on a weeknight and they are Ike and Tina’ing it from indoors to out, slamming doors and shouting. Next thing I know, I hear the chick sitting at the bus stop out front, boo hooing.

She’s not outside long. She comes back into the building and starts pounding on Barnyard’s apt. door (which is one flight down from mine).

So I creep over to my door to get a better listen…



He’s not answering and she’s not done pounding. She’s also not keeping in mind that there are two other people who live in the building. And as I looked at the clock, staring down the barrel of 4am, I had had enough.

I open my door and look down the stairs at this pathetic heap of a stringy haired drunken mess. She’s out of her mind… I realize this. And I realize that my presence will only exacerbate the situation. But if I don’t say shit now, this will happen again, at 3am, on a weeknight.

WISE: “Excuse me, Princess. You gotta take all that outside.”

WHITE: “What?! WHAT?! I’m a white girl and you’re black. Who you think they gonna believe?”

WISE: “Believe about what? About you acting like Barnyard lives here alone?” I ask.

WHITE: “Barnyard pays rent up in here. He can do anything he wants!”

WISE: “And how you think I get to stay here? Barnyard isn’t paying MY rent! And it is very late and you are very loud, and I am asking you politely to please bring down the volume.”

WHITE: “Bitch, you don’t tell me ---.”

I was on the steps before she could finish. Clearly, she had me at 'bitch'. And before she could commit a full gasp I calmly lifted this chick off her feet, my fingers rapped securely around her throat. Bitch couldn’t even swallow, yo.

WISE: “The trash is out back.”

And with that, I casually tossed her drunk azz toward the outside door then made my way back up the steps to my crib.

I’m gully and all, but the portion in grey never happened. I’m 30, and well, I know how to choose my battles WISEly. That one woulda been too easy. And too unavoidable. Had I opened my door the girl woulda fcuking flipped and came out of her mouth all wrong, and I woulda HAD to slap her up. And my neighbor woulda HAD to laugh, or help, or be mad, yo. I don’t need no turf war where I live. That’s what work is for.

For now, the list lives on…

Last.Days... + BREAKING NEWS (Im so dramatic)

*ok, clearly I'm in the wrong business because I felt compelled to do an up to the minute update. Am I also the only one watching The.View right now (Wednes)? Ro and Lizzie (my fav!) just had it out. Ro was mad that Liz didnt defend her when pundits were saying that Ro called the troops terrorists. Liz refused to give a simplistic yes or no answer, saying that Ro should have defended herself. I can see both sides of the story. This is how I know they really are friends, bec both of their feelings were hurt and they were going at it! But the real star as always, was Beh@r, the comic relief int he middle of it all!

PS...when did I get so codependent with my TV viewing?!*

And in other news, remember a few months back I was blowing off steam about bullshit hair stylists whose kryptonite is natural hair. Well, yesterday, for the first time in my entire life, I didnt have hair on my shoulders. I walked out of the house without a 'just in case' rubber band. I put on a newsboy cap and didnt have to arrange hair behind or in front of my ears.

I cut my shit. Yeah!

NOW BACK TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAM...
OK…can somebody PLS tell me they saw the Left.Eye documentary on VH1 last night?

For real, for real…I skipped open bar watching that shit. And I couldn’t sleep one wink all night.

Where to even begin.

Matter of fact, talk amongst yourselves. Here are a few topics...

1. Um…THEY WERE FCUKING TAPING WHEN SHE WRECKED?!!!

2. …I knew it was coming, but I was thoroughly upset at not having any warning about what was about to happen…yet at the same time I wished they had shown more. Even if for like one more second. I think she would have LOVED that.

3. Who knew she was a cutter?!

4. Naked in the jungle talking to animals.

5. The award-winning shout out to the ATL Fire Dept.

6. Her homegirls at the funeral in wheelchairs and arm braces.

7. The numerology was mad spooky, yo.

8. The fcuking shoes of THE LITTLE BOY SHE RAN OVER?!

9. AND THE SPIRIT THAT MADE A MISTAKE AND KILLED HIM!!

10. Her premonitions. The dream about the sun. “The end.”

11. How she was wildin during the last TeeLCee tour. The publicity stunt and DRIVE FROM ATL TO H0NDURAS??! Is that even possible??

12. Tarzan.

13. The 3-disc challenge.

14. She came out of rehab with a daughter??

15. “What’s better than being a star and being there? NOT being there and being the star. I was still the star!”

16. The kind of self-indulgence that motivated the entire doc. The creepy close ups of herself showering, swimming, washing her hair.

17. Her military dad with whom she got bent on beers and played "I Never." (alright I made that part up, but Im sayin. If you drink with your kids why not assume y'all also played drinking games?)

18. Her M0mmy.De@rest grandma.

19. “Bad M00n” butt azz naked in the guest bedroom with a chick in the closet. And THAT'S not even why she burned his shit down. ("It was a mistake."

20. Her near naked modeling as a teenager.

I could go on and on, but if I get all riled up I might be up all night again.

The Power of (Real) Hip.Hop (Is Ova Here)

Rough week.

Couple of weeks actually.

School blows.

Finals, and shit.

But then I found my respite.

*cue parting of the clouds and accompanied AHHHHHHH music*

"If hip hop started for you in 1995, then you won't get it."
- The Teacha, (Bawtuhmore, MD, 5/15/07)

In the past couple of months my rotation has included Tribe, Gza, PE, The Roots, Lupe (the night before a 20-pager was due, no less)...

Live rotation, that is.

And last night, the night before 2 final papers were due...

I put on some sneakers I didnt mind getting scuffed (blue Chuckas).

A tank top I didnt mind getting sweaty and smoky...

Got my hand stamped...

Self-imposed a 2-drink minimum (thanks LA)...

And went bananas at the sound of the police...

And the best part..I FEEL SO REFRESHED!!

Got a few new stories to tell yall. Stay tuned...




(I know, I know. Quality sucks. You had to be there. He ROCKED IT!)

DIVERGENT PATHS

Every day I listen to a national radio program, partly because I enjoy the content, but mostly because the executive producer is a very good friend of mine.

Well, used to be a very good friend.

We started working at the network together. Started on the same day, on different programs, but our paths crossed in the copy room and we were inseparable from that moment. She was the best friend I never had. I mean, she was more like me than any of my best friends ever were…and well, I think having a friend like me is pretty cool.

Similar but not. I come from a large, tight family…she from an isolated abusive one. On the west coast. While most of my childhood belongings were (and still remain) stored at my parents’ crib, everything she had was piled into her tiny uptown studio.

She got the job from a hook up. Not that she didn’t work hard, she sure as hell did. She’s one of those people whose life depends on their success. Through that constant hustle she found a well-connected mentor who helped show her the way. I had no mentors, no guidance really.

Difference was, she had no safety net. I, on the other hand, though ambitious, always felt comforted by the support of my family and friends.

We both soon became quite disillusioned by the company, and the field in general. When given the opportunity, I got out of there, and created a new way for myself, with her help. She stayed, despite being miserable, and almost getting shipped off to cover the war. I used to go over and make her breakfast on the days she didn’t wanna get out of bed and go to work.

I listen to this radio show everyday because she has made quite a path for herself. Climbed to the top of the heap. And is doing a hell of a job doing it.

I listen and laugh at the guests on the program that we both met at the same event, or that I recognize as her professors from undergrad, or that I know she idolizes. People she has obviously kept in touch with over the years, and who would need a hint at why they know me.

I do not envy her success. I’m proud as fcuk of her. Wish I could call her up and tell her so. But we had a massive fall out a few years back… one that im pretty sure will be healed after some time. Not enough has elapsed just yet.

But I do envy the fact that she followed thru enough to achieve her status. I don’t know if she’s happy doing it. There are so many other things I know she’d rather be doing. She was always forced to define herself by her success. I had to one time explain to her that running errands for newswriters was not her “livelihood.” But she has finally reached a point where she can look back at her abusers and have some clout to back up an adamant Eff You!

Today as I listened to the program and heard the voice of a vet in the biz - who one time scolded me so badly I had to call my damn mom - I laughed out loud. My ex-best friend is using her resources. Just like I am, only in a completely different realm.

I realized very early on that professional success was not something that would ever, ever, ever make me happy. Not even content. It’s just not that important to me. Nevertheless, I work hard at whatever I do, and try to find projects that fulfill me. But beyond needing to maintain a livelihood that includes a roof over my head and turkey burgers in my freezer, I’m not what you’d call a climber. (that's not to say that I'm content at the bottom!)

Not everyone shares my perspective, which makes it hard living against public consensus. I’m at the age where most of my friends who have been grinding in one way or another are beginning to reach their pinnacles. Dissertations defended. EIC titles. I’ve been there and done that a few times over already. And it doesn’t phase me in the least. I’m back in school now for many reasons, truthfully, the least of which is for the benefits of another degree. But that’s what people expect to be my conclusion.

And unfortunately, some days, like today, I feel unaccomplished.

I’m not career-obsessed. I’ve never wanted to be just one thing when I grow up. That’s just not my passion. Well, except maybe a mom and wife. Maybe that’s why I feel funny today. Because she has climbed to professional success (whether it makes her happy or not), and I have yet to reach my personal one.

Peep This...

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New blog by one of my oldest friends on the planet.

Lots of fun if you're into celebs and shit like I am.

Check her out. And dont be scurrred to comment.

Yall sure aint shy over here!

PS...thanks for all the beautiful flowers yall left on the last post. :-D