What’s Happening In My Neck Of The Woods

Ok, So firstly, there’s a whole ass serial killer running around my neighborhood shooting unsuspecting people dead.NO LIE. And Obviously since it’s happening in the black part of my neighborhood (which most of my neighbors won’t admit is the black part of my neighborhood) there are rumors that the person is a black man. Light skinned. 6 feet something inches tall. AND if the serial killer IS this man then he deserves to be put all the way up under the jail. Once for killing people for no good god damned reason. Twice for all of the black people who are now being terrorized, harassed, and arrested by SWAT, the FBI, Tampa Police Department and every other law force that’s been running around here for weeks.

S/N ALLLLLLL OF THESE PEOPLE BEEN RUNNING AROUND HERE FOR WEEKS AND SOMEONE IS STILL ABLE TO KILL RANDOM ASS PEOPLE IN BROAD NIGHT/DAYLIGHT. – File this under reasons why I know we don’t need military gear on police officers. 

I can’t even talk about this serial killer anymore without getting really upset so hopefully Santa’s ass will be able to find him. My friend Nicole thinks that Santa is the dude for the job since the police are failing miserably. I mean, he does know when you’ve been bad or good so…

I love being an entrepreneur and running my businesses but honestly there are days when I want to punch people that I work with SQUARE in the jaw. Like So:

Like today when I called an employee and was all like “Hey, I don’t have your timesheet. And he responds” Oh, I wasn’t here yesterday. So I’ll pass it on.” And I wanted to respond “NO bxtch. It’s your time. Turn it the eff in.” But I instead just said “No. I need you to send it to me ASAP.” In a professional voice. I would really like to punch him. Unfortunately for me, punching people is frowned upon in most circles.

My best friend sister and I almost exclusively communicate on a video app where I record a video and then she responds with another video. These videos- sometimes long and rambling, sometimes short and ranting are usually the highlight of my day. We live sixty six billion miles away from each other but it doesn’t feel that way. #ThanksCommunicationApps

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My sister Basimah and I when she snuck in to town for my Book Release.

Also, DJ thinks the videos are weird. “Why don’t you all just call each other.” I just smh and roll my eyes. Children can be so judgey.

Speaking of DJ, He’s a member of his school’s Model United Nations Team and hasdecided that he’s going to be on the fundraising committee. He’s raising money to help the team get to Washington DC and I’m super proud of all of the texts, phone calls, and emails he’s sent out attempting to raise funds for his team. My family and friends who’ve been on the receiving end of the give me money calls may not be so happy but ehhhh. *shrugs*

I’m participating in NANOWRIMO but since my life doesn’t always allow for typing on a computer every day for writing stuff, I’ve been mostly writing in my journal and on my phones notes app. I can’t tell you where I am on the word count but I have been writing everyday and for me that’s more than enough

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OH, and I got another rejection letter to a fellowship I applied for. YAY ME.images.jpeg

Lastly, my dogs are still out of their minds. I’ve just realized that almost every corner of my house has been nibbled on by these two love bugs. Good thing I plan on living here forever, even with the serial killer. * Le Sigh*

 

On Sundays I Hate My Dog

On Sundays I hate my dog. Like for real hate him. Like I would low-key let my 2 year old sister/cousin/niece play with him without adult supervision for 5 whole minutes as repayment for the abuse he invokes on us every Sunday.

See, On Sundays Otto thinks that he decides when to tell us to get the fuck up. And yes that’s how he says it “HUMANS, Time to GET THE FUCK UP.” And I know that that’s what he’s saying because he hops around the bed like a baby kangaroo until one of us -read AB – gets up and takes him outside. I couldn’t even tell you what time he does this except to say that it is well before 7 am. See if it happens around 7 am I’ll just cut my losses and get up. 7’s an ok time to sleep in til on the weekend. But he does his little hoppy routine, AB takes him out, and then she comes back into the room to go back to sleep.

The fact that she can go back to sleep is the reason I feel no guilt about allowing her to be the one to get up first. I don’t even blame Otto for doing his hoppy routine as he has to use the bathroom and lacks opposable thumbs to open the door for himself, but I DID buy him a whole piece of real ass grass in a box that he ignores the fuck out of, for this exact reason. BUT that first trip outside was just a warm up. He lays down until AB goes back to sleep then HE STARTS THE DAMN HOPPY ASS ROUTINE ALL OVER AGAIN!!!!!

I’m barely asleep at this point anyway since he halfway woke me up with his first routine, so at this point I usually just open one eye look down at him hopping around like a manic ass kangaroo and remind him that “It’s fucking SUNDAY.” My only semi-day off and that he’s a cute little devil. Also that God or whomever he believes in made him cute for this exact reason and that cuteness only gets you so far.

Of course he doesn’t care about any of what I’m saying. He feels no guilt. In fact, since my eye is open he triples his former hoppy ass routine and starts to bark (as much as his little ass baby puppy voice can bark) and reminds me that I wanted him and to get the fuck up so he that can go outside to play.

Finally I drag myself out of bed and move sluggishly towards the back door so that I can let him out. After I open the door I go back in and sit on the kitchen steps to monitor his playtime (he needs supervision since he likes to eat things that could kill or maim him) there is no furniture in the yard currently because of raggedy ass hurricanes. SO now I sit on the hard ass, cold ass tile floor while Otto runs around like Speedy Gonzales and stares at squirrels. I sit there until he’s had his run of eating grass and rearranging DJ’s stick pile and comes back into the house to look at me like “Ok human you may make your coffee or whatever I’m done. For NOW.”

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I do as I’m told and make myself some coffee so that I won’t kill my family in anger then climb back into bed where I am completely done with any hope of sleep. I guess staring at squirrels and eating grass are worth waking me up out of my sleep. Though, Now that I’m fully awake he climbs back into his bed and he GOES BACK TO SLEEP! His mission, to remind me why I don’t really wanna have a baby in real life, is complete. And I both appreciate this and HATE his cute little puppy face. IMG_7071.JPG

 

The Boy is Lazy AF and I May Just Punch Him Square In The Jaw

zvIzRRH.gifMy son is Lazy AF. Like typical teenage rolls his eyes in the back of his head when you ask him to do anything outside of his wheelhouse:laying down, eating, playing on his phone; lazy. As a parent I don’t know how to combat this.
At least without slapping him into another ethnicity and ending up in prison and I’m way too cute for prison.

I’ve tried to build him up and pour into him his greatness. I’ve tried to appeal to his sensibilities. I’ve tried to ask for his assistance as his mother. I’ve even tried guilt, yelling, cajoling, and a bunch of other shit that I’m not proud of, but as I write this I’ve just finished yelling at him about being a lazy ass who wants to lay around the house every weekend. Again I’m not proud but I’m fearful. Fearful that this laziness is going to follow him through his life.

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How my child prefers to spend his free time. 

Fearful that he won’t go to college, or trade school, or build his own business. That he’s destined to be a couch surfer floating from place to place building robots in the freetime he has from whatever menial ass job he has at the moment. Fearful that I will lose my cool and punch him square in the face. *slightly kidding*

I know, I know, he’s only 14 but I worry that he doesn’t have it in him to work two times harder, be two times smarter than his white contemporaries. That because we have a little bit of money and have placed him into a school with wealthy children, he thinks he’s on equal footing with his peers. That he will be so fucked when he has to face the real world and since he’s only 14  he only has a few years left to get his shit together before life smacks him in the face and shocks the false sense of affluenza out of him. Because unlike his lazy schoolmates who will end up being mediocre, running companies give to them by their parents, even if we were to still have our companies as he gets to the age when he could run them, we CAN’T afford to have mediocrity running our businesses.

I don’t want to get too down on him. I realize that he’s a good kid. A great kid; funny, smart, caring, and loving. He’ll give you the shirt off of his back (if you really needed it) BUT he is also LAZZZZZZZYYYYY AF! Currently he is laying in bed with a headache solely because I am in the living room and he CAN’T lay in here in front of the TV. As opposed to going to work and making money for the many things he wants, or going to hang out with his friends, or even just building something in the shed, or doing ANYTHING. Laying around the house is what he prefers to do at every opportunity.

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I’m trying to get him to understand that a good personality only goes so far. Especially for black boys. Hell, good black boys are being killed by police everyday. Jordan Edwards who recently died was only a few months older than he is.  I joke about punching him because I honestly don’t know what else to do and I worry so much for him. That he could face something as horrible as being killed by the police or that he can end up a lazy bum sleeping on his grandma’s sofa (since he gotta get the hell up outta here as soon as he graduates if he has no further plans for his life) or spend his days driving some smart girl crazy as she takes over trying to pull him forward into the life of greatness which I have been desperately attempting to push him into.

I know that I can not want more for him than he wants for himself and lately I don’t have much energy left to do any extra wanting for anyone outside of myself. I’s tied boss. Parenting is hard enough but add lazy and angsty into the mix and it’s enough to drive anyone over the moon.

I really wish that there was a magical pill to cure his laziness because, at least for today, I am at my wits end.

I Can’t Do It All: Just venting

Today was an interesting day. So interesting that my car is still (prayerfully) parked in a parking space in Downtown Tampa. I only minimally freaked out, after I couldn’t find my keys. For a back story, I went to a coffee shop in downtown Tampa to work and kill time in between meetings. After leaving and going to my car I realized that my keys were not in my purse. No big deal. I walk back into the coffee shop thinking that I must’ve simply left them on the table. Nope. No such luck. Not on the table. Not by the cash register. Not in my bag which I emptied out in a corner very calmly. Not anywhere on the street. Possibly in the pocket of the homeless guy who asks for change everyday only for me to tell him my stock excuse “I never have cash.”Anyways long story short, my keys weren’t anywhere to be found, Ashley showed up out of some weird stroke of luck, and the vehicle that we’ve been having outfitted for my new business just so happened to be ready for pickup. So I took her car and she ubered over to pick the other one up.

But, back to the weird day or more appropriately, the day that I started saying that I can’t do it all. Without my car which contains all of my work data I could only work on following up on things that I needed to and getting a much needed filling.

Protip: when you decide that you want to be a real live girl and get your nails done with acrylic, you are signing up for upkeep. With what time? IDK either you will 1: Pull it out of your butt. OR 2: Use the new time you’ve been given since you can’t hold onto your car keys like a proper adult. 

After the filling I went to the grocery store to try my new favorite thing that my family hates: Buy precooked food to doctor up at home. Once home with food doctored up and placed in the oven DJ informed me that he didn’t have time to watch the food because he had to take a shower. In my head I saw a very clear image of Homer Simpson choking Bart

200w.gifor at the very least the mother from Everybody Hates Chris slapping the hell out of him, but I didn’t.

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Honestly I’m too busy and too tired to entertain certain things. My idiotic teenager making stupid comments about time and food that he is going to eat? Nah. Not a battle I wanted to win today.

Of course, he ate before AB and I could get into the kitchen and of course, he didn’t like the chicken.  Since I let he and AB in on my little Greenwise Publix Precooked food doctoring up secret they’ve complained about the taste of the food. Neither of them realize that for months at least once a week they’ve been eating this food with zero complaints. Nor do they realize just how fucking hard it is to write, sell books, run the shops, do all of my admin work, build a new business, run the house, cook, spend hours a week working for my BNI chapter, and and and. But when I finally said the thing that I have been thinking for months, that I can’t do it all and still cook, AB tells me that she doesn’t want me to totally stop cooking. She likes my cooking and can’t I at least do it once a week. To which I do not respond with the first thing that pops in to my head which is, How Sway?

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Randomness 11.29.16

I’m tired. Like “I’s tired bawse.” Tired

Darian is a privileged child who could easily turn into someone who suffers from affluenza. I’m working on preventing that with my entire being.

Being in business for oneself definitely requires a vagina. I know people like to brag about how big their balls are but I’ve seen enough porn to know that vaginas are the stronger of the two. 

If I had the money I would totally hire a full time housekeeper and cook. Working all day, running around for Darian, running around for AB, running around for the shops, and doing everything else I do is pretty damn hard. A housekeeper and a cook would be so perfect right about now.

My grandma is in the hospital. Scared shitless doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel right now.

I really want some caramel popcorn from Garrett’s or some place equally as good. *crosses fingers and asks the Universe*

I believe in God. And the Universe. And Allah. And Buddha. And. And. And. 

Speaking of Gods, Religious fanatics scare the shit out of me. Especially Christians because they’re so widely accepted that people don’t even question half of the craziness they spout.

Left Right Center and Friendsgiving are all that are right with the world. 

I won’t comment on how the future president is a four year old with a wifi connection. A rich four year old with lack of self control. The type of kid who kicks his mom and calls her a bitch at McDonalds when she only lets him get two packets of BBQ sauce for his chicken nugget happy meal. The kind of four year old who calls his dad by his first name and pisses on the floor of the towel aisle of Target because he wants “a fucking toy now Brad!!” The type of kid who slaps the maid in her face when she won’t let him pour milk all over the place. Yup. That’s the future president of this company.

This Ancestors shirt is the Business. 

To Whom Much is Given

I often talk about how being a slasher- mom slash wife slash writer slash entrepreneur slash slash slash, is the life that I was given and how I manage it. I don’t think that I’ve ever really talked about the more difficult aspects of it, FYI it ain’t easy.

For example, Thursday I have the opportunity to go to an Inc 500 dinner and meet Warren Rustand, an amazing entrepreneur who spent time working closely with some of America’s presidents. At the same time that I could be at this dinner I need to be at Darian’s second Track Meet.

For me, out of everything that I do, taking care of him is my most important job. Especially since his dad moved to California. AB and I are business partners so usually if we need to be somewhere at the same time that DJ has something going on she does the business thing and I go support DJ. But we both need to be at this dinner. And I need to be at this track meet.

So how will I do it? Since we don’t have the capability of cloning oneself as of yet- though as soon as we do, I’m all about it- I’m going to depend on my squad. I’ve begun to ask everyone that I know he would love to see at his meet to attend if they can. If I can get at least three of them there then it will take the bite out of me not being there. He’s a pretty well rounded kid and he’s always telling me that it’s ok when I can’t be or do something but I can’t just be ok with not being somewhere for him. I won’t ever be ok with it. I’ll use my resources to try and make sure he’s ok while I do what I need to do and I’ll cheer him on from wherever I have to be because to whom much is given, much is expected.

The Book of Unknown Americans

I originally started writing a typical review of this book but last night I had a text conversation with my cousin and I realized how boring that review was so here goes:

I loved the book of Unknown Americans: I gave it 5 STARS. 

Mayar and Maribel’s teenage love story is the love story of two teenage neighbors who fall in love in the most American way in spite of their Americaness constantly being denied. There’s seeing each other in a way that no one else does, stolen kisses, and stolen moments of teenage rebellion that lead to the most fucked up shit. Adding to their love story is the fact that it isn’t tied up neatly with a bright red bow.

In The Book of Unknown Americans we travel with a group of neighbors who live in a building full of other immigrants as they make their way from their respective lands and end up in Maryland in this apartment building. The journeys of each tenant gives the reader insights into the reasons why people leave their homes, their families, their lives, their beautiful native lands of Puerto Rico, Panama, Mexico, Columbia- to chase the American Dream.

In the story we are forced to bare witness to the ugliness that immigrants are forced to deal with; poor working conditions, racial profiling, harassment, robbery, bullying, the constant feeling of less than, while trying to survive and get a piece of the elusive American Pie.

And I loved the journeys. Up until this book I had a very minimal understanding of why people would leave home for America only to be frequently ridiculed and treated like a burden.

So that’s the love. Now for the hate. I’ll keep it brief. Check it under this Spoiler Alert:

-SPOILER ALERT-

THINGS I HATE:

  • ALMA- Keeper of secrets that cause harm for the stupidest of reasons. ALMA, why the eff didn’t you at least try to get a job washing laundry, cooking, babysitting, something? Why is your family struggling whilst you try to find your damn self and threaten teenagers in a language that you can barely speak? ALMA, most of this is your fault.
  • The shifting of characters is a bit to get used to as each character tells their story in the first person narrative style and some stories feel more authentic than others.
  • The glossing over of Garret Miller’s life. There’s enough there to gather that this family has problems but if this character is going to be the antagonist that character’s life and encounters can’t be written as an after thought.

I recommend that most people read this book especially people who think that immigrants are stealing their jobs, want to Make America Great Again,  tell other people to “Go back where you came from” and those who say  “We speak English in America if you can’t speak the language then go back home.”