Who Gon Check Me Boo?

Hello! I haven't forgotten about you!

Quick updates from the land of mobile strudeling:

When I started strudeling again I almost chose Tumblr but I didn't know anything about it. Now, I know plenty about it and I want to move my strudel there. This move will happen sometime in November because that is when I get my new Laptop. Eugene has decided that he will not charge at all so I give up, I'm buying a new one for my birthday. Anyway, wish me luck y'all! I'll be 23 on the 19th of November so until then... Follow me on Twitter!

twitter.com/thatdarnjasmine

Also, I'm aware the title of this post has nothing to do with anything. :)




- Posted using BlogPress from Princess McFeely [my iPod touch aptly named by Lessy F. Baby]

October 11, 2009

At midnight, on October 11, 2009, I was just waking from a nap and sorting through piles of clothes in my room. I was looking for an outfit to wear to DC the next day for the National Equality March. I wanted something bright, colorful. I wanted to look good. I wanted to look approachable. I wanted something that said, Greetings! I come in peace. I couldn't settle on one outfit so I sat several to the side and tried to focus on getting some sleep before my (early for me) wake up call. It was a tough sell for my body. All the nerves and thoughts were keeping it up. Will it be awkward? Will there be a good turnout? Will I actually see Lady Gaga? Will I actually walk the whole march, or give up? Will I be able to handle the backlash? I wasn't entirely sure what would be in store for me the following day but I knew one thing: I was going to do my part in standing up for equality and I didn't give a damn what anyone else had to say about it.

I ended up wearing a lame outfit. Opting for practicality over fabulosity. I had to account for it being October in the DMV, my tendency to be colder than the rest of the world, and my need for pockets. I ate a heavy breakfast, packed my backpack, grabbed two bottles of water and headed for the Metro. As I pulled up, I saw a large group of people marching with rainbow flags and I couldn't hide my excitement on my face. I later discovered that the large group of people were all from Vermont and that was when I realized, this was going to be epic.

I arrived in DC just after 10am and the meeting place (15th & I) was not as packed as some people seemed to think it would be but I kept reminding them, it was still early. I was right. By 11:30, I couldn't see much of anything but people and rainbows. It was a beautiful sight. I was so proud in that moment. I was proud of my race, the human race that is. I was even proud of my country. Proud that we can have a moment like this. Even the cops weren't being too big of assholes. It was such an awesome feeling. The best part of it was that there was an overwhelming feeling of love. This march, this rally was not about hate. It was about love. I know that it was specifically about equality and rights for ALL people, but on a larger scale - it was still about love. The amount of love and camaraderie I witnessed was inspiring and telling. Maybe this world isn't so bleak as I usually think it is. Maybe there is hope for us after all.

I was happy to find every person so friendly and approachable because I rode solo. I know this is probably strange to most people, especially considering I'm straight and have a horrible sense of direction (two things that have nothing to do with each other but are both true) but I was not going to let this pass me by just because I didn't have someone to go with. I want to be able to look back on my life and know that when the times were changing, I stood up for what I knew was right. I found several people who were willing to have me march with them. These two nice gentleman from Houston, TX were keeping me company early in the AM and even gave me a flag because I didn't have any rainbow pride. :) Overall though, the various members of the International Socialist Organization (ISO) that I encountered made the largest impression. It was with ISO and my new group of friends (Nicole, Luis, Katy, Nicole's fiance with the awesome beignet beads who's name I can't remember, and another girl who's name I can't remember but only because she came later) that I marched to the capital with, in the end.

Overall, my experience at the National Equality March was more than positive. I expected to see so many people protesting what we were doing. I expected to be treated with hostility by law enforcement. I thought I would get many more looks coming home on the Metro, holding my Rainbow/Equality Flag. None of my negative expectations came true and I was pleasantly surprised. I did leave early because I was so tired, hungry, and I was actually starting to feel sick. I didn't want to though. The speeches I got to hear before I had to leave were powerful and smart. Many of them mentioning how important it is that us young people understand that we are extremely necessary in this movement, this fight. I can't say enough, how proud I was yesterday of people. I read that there were 200,000 people marching yesterday but I swear to you if felt like 2 million. Two million new best friends out there trying to make a change for the better.

With that, I'll say one final piece and post some pictures. I support the LGBTQ community. I always have and I always will. I am for human rights and whether you like it or not, the LGBTQ community are humans too. Don't tell me you are for human rights but you don't support them. That makes no sense. I try to be respectful toward others and their right to have different opinions but I really don't understand people who feel that all people shouldn't be treated as equals. Whether you like their "lifestyle" or not, it should be obvious that they should have the same rights you and I do. So, I will forever be their ally and will always try to do my very best to support and aide them in their fight for equality. In the end, it's not just their fight, it's all of ours. And even though my legs are burning right now, that just means I need to work out more often because I'd do that march 100x over. I won't shut up and I won't give up until we are all equal. That is all. Enjoy my pictures. :)

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Now playing: Dragonette - Liar
via FoxyTunes

I Wish I Never Sucked Your Dick (An Ode to Bad Decisions)

(Just in time for UK National Poetry month, even though I'm American. lol)

I wish I wasn’t raised on Southern values and charm
because then I’d wouldn’t speak to strangers
and I’d never had met you that night
I wish I wasn’t a full –time Facebook Creeper
because then I wouldn’t have added you as a friend
and you wouldn’t have hit me up on Facebook Chat
and we wouldn’t have exchanged AIM screenames
and we wouldn’t have talked all night
and I wouldn’t have agreed to hang out with you
and we wouldn’t have gone to your house
and we wouldn’t have lain down in your bed
and I wouldn’t have let you kiss me or unbuckle my belt
But what’s most important to understand
Is that I never would have sucked your dick

Now, I’ve made a lot of bad decisions in my life
Been a drunk whore a time or two or three
Making out with friends exes
Tried to walk out into traffic once
Slept with my ex’s best friend
But for every horrible mistake I’ve made
I know the frame of mind I was in
and I tend to regret the action, not the experience
I do my best to learn from my mistakes
but I don’t know what I am to make of this
when I can’t even understand why I ever sucked your dick

I went through the normal check-list:
Drunk? Nope
Drugs? Never
Roofie? Not even
Emotional Stress? No more than usual
Attraction? Not even slightly.
Personality? Yours sucks.
The best I could come up with
is that being up for over 24-hours led to sleep deprivation
and my state of mind was altered, judgment impaired
But shouldn’t sleepiness make me lazy?
Shouldn’t it make me not want to suck a dick?

I just can’t seem to sort through it
and I sincerely wish it never happened
when it was over, you asked me what was wrong
as I sat on the bed paralyzed from my actions
trying to understand what I’d done and why I’d done it
Did I feel sorry for you?
When you begged, you said it’d been so long since…
Was I just a slut?
No, couldn’t be. Many a more desirable dick I had turned down.
So then, what?
WHY THE HELL DID I SUCK YOUR DICK?

I erased you from my phone
I had to block you on AIM
I need to delete you on Facebook
and unfollow you on twitter
because every time I see your stupid rap name
I could nearly black out from the rage
and I know it’s not your fault but I just keep picturing
your nasty ass dick coming at me like a torpedo
and I just want to gargle with boiling water
because, though its been months, I still can’t wash it away
I guess the lesson I can take away from this is
You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to
and I could’ve sworn that was a lesson I knew
but I guess I’m learning it all over again
I accept that this is my shame to live with
and I should be happy there weren’t other consequences
but the fact remains that not a day goes by
that I don’t wish I never sucked your dick

My Hair Is "Good Hair"

I woke up this morning and decided to check twitter on my iPod Touch (Princess McFeely). My home screen was buzzing with everyone going in on Whoopi Goldberg for her idiotic comments on The View this morning over the documentary "Good Hair". Whoopi wanted to enlighten people on the real reason black women choose to "straighten" their hair. According to Ms. Goldberg, the roots of of the problem aren't that deep. We're all just lazy.

"It's not to have straight hair like white people - the reason black women want straight hair is because it's more manageable. ...The whole thing for black women and their hair is they don't want to take the time with it."

*PAUSE* That's what I had to do when I read the first half of that quote on Twitter. Was she for real? Did she really just gloss over any historical facts and reality? Of course, she did. She's Whoopi "rape-rape" Goldberg! Of course! She is the woman who told Ted Danson black-face would be hilarious and totally okay. So why be shocked by her ignorance today? I'm not. I'm also not shocked that Sherri "that pregnant man is is WOMAN" Shepherd co-signed. If you watch the clip she gave some sob story about how she HAS TO wear wigs and weaves to "protect" her real hair from the evils of Hollywood hairdressers. She even told of how one time a hairdresser put baby powder in her hair to soak up the oil. SAY WHAT NOW? Why the hell would you EVER let someone put baby powder in your hair? As an adult, no less? You're losing me Sherri. All of this got me so hot that I had to come and strudel on my parents' son's virus filled laptop to properly express my rage at Whoopi, Sherri, The View, ABC, the World.

Part 1: Straight Hair is NOT more Manageable
This picture is of me and my BEAUTIFUL hair in its natural curly, kinky, good, bad, however you choose to feel about it state. I love it. I took this picture just a few hours ago, fresh out the shower. This is what my hair looks like, point blank period. I put a little leave-in conditioner, or root stimulator, or whatever I have laying around and I let it air dry and that's it. As it dries it looks shorter but the texture remains the same. So what I've just described here is that I basically get out the shower and let my hair go. I leave it alone. You tell me, what is more manageable than that? My friend in my head, Bassey Ikpi, said Whoopi has dreads because she's lazy. I think that may be true. Despite the fact that trying to force my hair into an unnatural state is harmful to it, it just takes too much damn effort. Way more than getting out the shower and going. If I want to straighten my hair I have to wash it with special shampoos and conditioners and then blow it dry with a special brush and heat protectants. Then I follow that up with a ridiculously hot flat iron and this expensive stuff called Biosilk Silk Therapy. It's either that or I go get another relaxer that destroys all my beautiful curls and makes my hair unhealthy. Now, I'd lie to you if I said I don't like the way my hair looks straight but I like my hair period. I think it's beautiful, mainly because it's MINE. That being said, straight hair is in NO WAY more manageable. Has Whoopi ever spent 3 hours (or more) with a flat iron? Has she ever had to sit with burning chemicals in her head for 20 minutes (or however long it takes, I really don't know), have it washed out only to sit under a dryer for 45 minutes to an hour and THEN get it styled. Repeat again in 6 weeks, give or take. Wow! Your hair is straight now, problems gone! Just don't get it wet and don't forget to "wrap" it at night and tie it up! Sleep on a silk pillow, it helps! Be sure to allow extra time when getting ready to possibly flat iron out a few spots that got messed up in sleep. No, but straight hair is totally more manageable. Way more so than letting your hair be how it's going to be.

Part 2: We Are NOT too Lazy to do Our Hair
Black hair is a billion dollar business. We have our own aisle at the store. Many black hair salons are known to refuse walk-ins on a regular basis. How many little black girls with 100 braids and barrettes does Whoopi need to see before she realizes we are NOT too lazy to do our hair or our kids hair? I hardly ever see black women without their hair done or styled. I don't know what the hell she's talking about. The amount of effort that goes into relaxers alone says the majority says we don't mind having to "take the time with it." Whoopi, your logic is flawed.

Part 3: What is it then?
Why is the whole world trying to paint a more simplistic picture of this complicated issue. The first step to solving a problem is to admit the problem. I can sit right here and admit that, though I never found natural hair ugly, I used to think that straight hair was the prettiest. Why? Speaking from a personal level, a lot of it had to do with the way people reacted to me and my long, straight hair. I used to want to be Aaliyah and every one fawned over my hair. I basked in the attention. I don't fault myself; I was a child. It pissed my mother off though and I didn't understand why then but I do now. My mother has ALWAYS preferred my hair in its natural state. The look I was born with. The look that is half of her. It must hurt to know that not only does the world reject you but they reject your child. Is my hair pretty straight? Yes. But, like I said, it's pretty always. I think it's telling that Whoopi, in the video, spoke of a little girl looking at a blonde-haired white woman and wanting to be white for the advantages she perceives that it would bring, an easier life. That little girl is not wrong though. It's not in our heads. Long straight hair is the broad standard of beauty but it is something that most black women are not born with. We are being told before we can speak that who we are is not good enough. It hurts me when I hear my little cousins, 3 and 4, speak on light vs. dark, nappy hair vs. good hair. It hurts me that their mother has already put relaxers in their hair. I had to BEG, and I do mean BEG my mother for years because she was not having it. Why are we teaching our daughters to alter themselves, to eventually hate themselves? Why do I have to scratch my head to think of famous women who wear their hair natural? It's so easy to say straight hair is just easier to deal with. A weave is just easier to deal with. All of that is easier to say than the truth. White hair is easier for me to deal with. The closer to white, the closer to right. If it's in my head then why do I notice more hostility towards me when my hair is natural. Why do even I know better than to wear my hair natural to a job interview? Why do so many men still have a light-skinned/good hair fetish, if it's all in my head? If it's all just about manageability and laziness? No, it's not that simple. Not by a longshot. I don't know how we as a people will heal but I know it has to start with acknowledgment of the issue and acceptance of who we are.

In My Dreams, I Think I Had You Every Way

vowels, consonants, syllables
similes, metaphors, imagery
any of which, from your lips
leaves me choking on air
could I handle your kiss?



- Posted using BlogPress from Princess McFeely [my iPod touch aptly named by Lessy F. Baby]

My New Mobile Life

So, I destroyed my laptop charger months ago and was using my friend's until she needed it back the other day and now I'm living my life mobilely (is that a word) for the time being. I really miss Eugene (my laptop) though, he's my booski.

I've been checking my various social networking accounts via my iPod Touch and my crappy cell phone. I'd use the desktop but it's decided to rejects its mouse and my parents' son's laptop is virus ridden, so using that frustrates me. All of this forces me to be mobile. I feel so undercover. It's weird. It has, however, given me a new game to play. I like to type in random addresses to see who has a mobile site and who doesn't. Did you know Tar-Jay (Target) has a mobile website and so does the United States Postal Service. 711 doesn't though, that really upset me.

I'm currently using the "lite" (free) version of some iPhone/iPod Touch app to write this strudel. My new charger was allegedly sent out Monday, Oct. 5, 2009 through the USPS so I guess I can expect it here by Christmas. Until then, I'll be spending way too much time with my iPod and cell phone.

And just so we're clear, this is the jam:



- Posted using BlogPress from Princess McFeely [my iPod touch aptly named by Lessy F. Baby]

Reality Check: BITCH, We Ain't Friends!

Sometimes I wish I had no home-training. I wish that I wasn't raised to, generally, respect people because I swear there are some people that could get way worse than a serious side-eye (like Sophia Loren is giving Jane Mansfield in the picture on the right). I'm talking about those pesky interlopers. The ones who always have something to tell you about you and your life when they really don't know you like that. The ones that are always asking you for advice when you really want to say, "Bitch, we ain't friends. I don't give a damn about how you want to live your life." ...But you don't because the polite person inside, the one your mama raised, won't let you be unnecessarily rude to a person who's *technically* never done anything to you.

These so-called "friends" can be found all over. They see you in the club, your favorite lounge or bar. They may be co-workers, classmates, gym buddies, church members, or neighbors. When they see you out, they always try to turn "small talk" into long-winded, deep conversations. They want to dispense their advice on what you should do to improve your life, how you can do better than your significant other, why you should major in *insert subject*. Hold up! When you asked me for advice did I tell you that I think you should probably kick your unemployed baby daddy out, move back in with your parents (who are offering to help), go back to school, and look out for you and your kid - NOT, his sorry ass. No, I just half-way listened and told you, "I don't know what to tell you, it's your decision." So why is it that when you see me you feel like you have to offer me your unsolicited opinions and advice. I didn't ask you and, besides, you're probably one of the last people on this planet I'd seek advice from.

It is my experience though that their favorite hang out is social networking sites. These Facebook "friends", twitter followers, Myspace "friends", and what have you feel the need to interject on everything you say/do/post. They tag you in notes that have nothing to do with you or that no one who isn't one of their close personal friends would or should care about. They hit you up on Facebook chat to ask if you read said note and, if so, what you think about it. I just don't get it. Yes, I know you but I don't know you so why are you so damn interested in my opinion? Why are you all up on every status I write. Stop commenting on all of my pictures, THAT'S WHY I BLOCKED YOU FROM VIEWING THEM. You're on the limited list now because you didn't know how to be nosy without being obvious about it.

We've all been a little guilty of it, it's true. Especially, passing judgment on those we don't really know well enough to speak on but that's where I like to end it - at judging. I do not seek these people out to give them my two cents on their life. After all, they're not my real friends. They're just people I'm cordial to, people that I happen to know and don't have a problem with. This loose camaraderie does not give me an open forum on their life.

So this is to all you fake friends out there who don't know your role. The next time you're dispensing your ~worldly knowledge~ to someone who appears annoyed or disinterested, just know that they're probably thinking, "BITCH, we ain't friends!"



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Now playing: Sam Sparro - Pocket
via FoxyTunes

One Of My Favorite Past Times

Q: Do you know who that smexy elder gentleman is?
A: The 39th President of the United States of America, James Earl "Jimmy" Carter, Jr.

Do you know what Jimmy Jam and I have in common? WE LIKE TO CALL OUT RACISTS. I'm just kidding, about President Carter that is. He was just giving America a much needed reality check. This "post-racial" society so many like to pretend we live in is just a figment of imagination. You see, unlike President Carter (who was merely pointing out the plausible idea of racism as a motivation behind some of Obama's harshest critics), I see calling our racists as a part-time hobby. Volunteer work. My civic duty. I think I should get a tax break for it.

I don't like racism and I don't like racists. Why would I? I'm black. Furthermore, I'm a woman. I hate prejudice of any kind. So, I take it on myself to highlight the ignorance of others. It's fun and I like to think I'm helping the world. Maybe every person I call a racist isn't a true racist as heart. Maybe no one ever called out their racist tendencies before. Maybe I'm making a difference. Because I don't go after the blatant, self-admitted racists... I don't have a problem with them. They're idiots but they're honest so my thoughts on them, "Carry on..." It's the undercover racists I target. Yes, I'm talking to you. You with the, "Well, I have a black friend and she's very educated. Not ghetto at all." You with the, "If a white person had done what Kanye did, the NAACP would have been all over this." You with the bad D.L. Hughley style white people jokes. You who still calls Asian people "Oriental." ARE THEY FUCKING RUGS? You who has a problem with Spanish speaking people speaking Spanish in public. You who who has not figured out the difference between Arab and Indian. You who can't possibly be racist because you voted for Barack Obama.

Yes, even if you have a "diverse" group of friends, you can still be a racist so be warned, if I hear you saying some ignorant shit out your mouth, I'm going to call you on it. If you follow the first offense up with more ignorance, I'll probably call you a racist. I don't care if we're friends, not friends, I don't even care if you're just commenting on my friend's Facebook status about Kanye West. If you exhibit racist behavior, I will not be silent.

Now, I know some people will argue that everyone is prone to be a little racist every now and then and that may be true but I think I know the difference. The number one sign of the closet racist: The person who brings race into situations where race isn't already an issue.

Examples:
1. The idiot I went off on today on Facebook because he felt that the NAACP would have been all over Tim McGraw if he did that to Macy Gray and that the NAACP is prone to double standards, just look at Michael Vick and Don Imus? What? Your attempts at hiding your racism are pathetic but nice try homey. What does any of this have to do with Kanye having a drunk, asshole moment?

2. My parent's son, the King of Ignorant Shit. "Ain't Taylor Swift a country singer? She should've got some of her redneck brothers or cousins to beat that nigga. Them good ol' boys would've lynched his ass. [laughs] Aye, Kanye a faggot for real." (Yes, we are black.) My brother is not only a racist on several levels, he's also a homophobe.

Anyway, as long as there is life in me and racists (homophobes/misogynists/prejudice people in general) are out there spewing hate, I will combat them with my words.

I'm in RAAAAGEEEE! (An Open Plea to KiD CuDi)

First off, let me say, hello blogworld! Those of you who know me know that I have been absent from blogging for a while now. What has sparked this return? I needed a forum to express how truly distraught I am that KiD CuDi has deleted his Twitter account. If you've never heard of KiD CuDi, I'm not going to explain him to you... All you need to know is his Twitter was full of endless entertainment. So, this is my desperate plea to KiD CuDi in hopes that he will reactivate his Twitter account.

Dear Scott,
Can I call you Scott? Scotty? Scotty Boy? Wiki says your name is Scott Ramon Seguro Mescudi, that's a sexy ass name. It's probably one of the sexiest ass names of all time. You're pretty cute too, but anyway, that's not the point. The point of this strudel (blog) is to let you know that I am extra blown that you have decided to take yourself out of the Twitterverse. To steal one of your words, it makes me want to Raaaageeee! (But not in a good way!) I'm not going to lie to you, I started reading your twitter because I heard you whined a lot and I wanted to see what people were talking about. From what I read, I wouldn't call you a whiner so much as a little corny (raaagggeee? really?) and I did judge you for your OBVIOUS love affair/crush/whateveryoutwogrownfolkaredoing with Amanda Bynes but that's because I have left over childhood resentment for how annoying she was on All That. Otherwise, I have to admit, I found your twitter entertaining and even intriguing. I hated "Day 'n' Night" and "Make Her Say" even more but I still decided to listen to your album, in part because of your endearing twitter. Your album is fan-fucking-tastic Mr. Mescudi. I love it in ways that I can't even express right now, as I heard it for the first time today (your release date). I haven't bought your album though... YET. I have a proposition for you. If I buy your album, can you come back to Twitter? Please? I know... I know... Who the fuck am I? Someone who could buy your fucking CD, that's who! Maybe I'd even buy two... One for me and the homie Les. Just come back to Twitter Scotty Boy! We need you! Not me specifically, but a lot of your fans were truly inspired by some of your tweets. They even made a petition. Do it for your country Scott. This is deeper than rap.
<3Jasmine

All ridiculousness aside, his album is amazing and everyone should go get it. I might even go cop it even if he doesn't come back to twitter. His album is called MAN on the MOON: the END of DAY and it's out... TODAY!

(Also, it looks like this.)