It’s raining in Oberlin. Another perfect day for curling up in bed, watching a couple of movies, a little bit of food and a lot of peaceful sleep drifting. But I feel weird…
Maybe it’s because it’s officially Singles Awareness Season or maybe it’s because I just left the sunshine of Cali but lately I’ve just been feeling some kind of way about a lot of shit.
Specifically my crush. Or was previous crush.
I can’t even begin to tell you how sick or death I of being infatuated with the potential of what being in love with that dude could do for me. I am so over it. I am over getting excited about things that end up falling through. So I revoke having a crush on him. Unless he makes a move to prove to me I’am justified in feelin’ him. So all the cuddles and flirting and shit, it’s just whatever I guess.
On top of all that, I am absolutely not down to compete for his attention among the legion of thirsty girl throwing themselves at his feet. I am not trying to do all that. I am just trying to …. idk…. sigh.
I am so over it.
that shit depresses me, but i would rather be momentarily depressed rather than be all emotionally fucked up.
some lonely midnight thoughts, for all the other lonely kittens out there… wishing and wishing and wishing on smoggy stars….
There will come a day when I look at my man, and I think, ” I waited so long to love you”
There will come a day when I smile without guards and wondering if circumstance will let Love come to pass.
A day when I don’t hold back on my heart because I don’t know if he’ll catch it.
There will be a day when the cold sheets don’t taunt me with their emptiness for lack of someone there to feel.
I know their will be a day when I go out into the world knowing that someone will fight for me as only a lover can.
One day, there will be someone who knows my spirit intimately and loves it.
In the nights, I will know the rough warm feeling of a man’s palm on the giddy throb of my heart and I’ll feel the rumble of his laughter in delight.
In the days, I will walk around embalmed in the knowledge of his complete Trust, Loyalty, Honest and Respect and it will be the Corinthian house over my head.
There will be a day when potential turns pregnant and delivers to me Agape
My day for Love will come, with a brilliant dawn and a sensuous sunset that calls forth the primal from the refined.
my day will come.
On this day, he will hold me tightly and I will know that it was all worth it. That I have done it right, that everything that ever hurt me or brought me joy was essential to bring me to that man, in this moment, living this life. There will come a day. There will come a day. There. will. come. a. day. But until then, I have Faith.
You what to know a critical problem with being single?
Time. How much time is too much time being single? How the fuck do you tell the different between being single because that’s what you need/want to do to be a healthy and happy person OR being single because you’ve gotten a little too comfy with voluntary aloneness for reasons ranging from flat out laziness all the way to fear of being wounded again? Should you have time frame for the duration of your singleness ? Is having a single-life time limit as stupid and misguided as having other deadlines in the world of romance? Time. It’s the critical white elephant in the room at the single soiree.
You see, I ask because I don’t believe in dating guys that I can’t see myself in long-term relationships with. I just don’t see a point to giving my time, emotions, and energy into relationships that don’t have viable, probable or pursuable futures. I don’t want to spend my time dating every-which sort of guy because it could be fun and all that shit. I want to date men I could build a life with, men that have a trajectory that goes somewhere I wanna be.
I get that perhaps my logic is narrow-minded and could keep me from having great experiences and blah-de-blah. No, fuck that. My logic, is the logic of somebody who is a die-hard uber romantic that has been broken before and is trying with everything she’s got to only entertain situations were I am NOT going to get throttled by the big L again. However even in the face of all that, Love doesn’t really hand out guarantees or play fair. Let alone pay any kind of attention to how I much I’d rather not be in emotionally high risk relationship. Because point blank, every relationship has the potential to be high risk… that Life and more importantly that’s love. No pain no gain, I get it but common man…
Love throws the most random curve balls. Sometimes, you fall in love/lust/infatuation with the most random not-your-type-not-viable-not-a-dude-you’d-date-if-you-wanted-to-play-it-safe kind of man. Ain’t that a bitch?
Because I am pretty sure that is exactly what is happening to me. I am infatuated. Ugh. I knew there would come a time when I would meet a guy and get those stupid-ass buttery happy feelings in my belly all over again. I just didn’t think it’d be in Oberlin for fuck sake. I also didn’t think it’d be with the guy who I can distinctively remember looking at and thinking, “ He is hot, but SO not my typical type. I can see his appeal . I get why like 95% of Oberlin’s straight female students are stricken by The Thirst but I also can recognize the type of dude that could emotionally fuck ALLLLLLL your shit up. He is sexy as FUCK but he is soooo THAT DUDE with the potential to devastate all your shit in a way that just digs a little deeper.” =_______=.
This like that really mean joke that you laugh at to keep from crying. It’s one of those situations where logically, I want to say no thanks but ‘yes please’ keeps wanting to slip out. We are at too polar places in our lives. I am here, he is there. Think if peanut butter and jelly meet when peanut butter was still just a nut and jelly was a fruit chilling on the vine. It’s like that. Potentially fuck-tastic combo… completely wrong timing.
But even though I fucking KNOW that it don’t stop me from thinking about. Hell, I even dream about it. There are some important facts that I just can’t get myself to let go of. One, the tension between us is…. let’s just use the word titillating. Lawl. Seriously though, it’s like make your heart beat a little harder and a little faster style tension. Sometimes I can see him thinking about kissing me. Like I can literally watch his eyes and see his mind wanting to kiss me. If you’ve ever seen lust in the eyes of a man you’re attracted to, you know exactly how hot that sight is. And it’s not that same kind of in the moment sexual tension I was taking about in the Last Friday Night post. No, No. This is the kind of sexual tension you get when you actually like someone. No Friday night sexy-dancing needed, just a glance at each other that’s it. Ugh, why o why do I seem to have fantastic sexual chemistry and tension with all the boys I can’t/shouldn’t get into relationships with ?
Lord Father God, please guide me because I swear that more I try and pull myself up off of the idea of wanting him, my libido shoves me further down the rabbit hole. And of course my treacherous little heart is beginning to become willing to follow. Despite myself, I can even see a relationship with this guy. And the relationship I can plausibly see, isn’t the relationship I would even realistically imagine myself getting into. It would be a relationship I got into because I was genuine interested in HIM not the kind of relationship he could provide. I like digging the business suite kind of guys, not the sexy artist types. I am an artist, I like the boringness of buisness guys, it means I get to bring the crazy to the relationship. But with this guy, THIS freaking guy, I wouldn’t even mind dealing with all the mutual craziness two creative people would inevitably bring. Oh my god, it makes my head start to throb to even try to think about what that last statement revealed. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Isn’t getting emotionally devastated once, enough? I am pretty sure that I had learned my lesson from Radon. Am I just being scared of what Love can do? yup Even though it’s the one thing I really want in life. Am I projecting these fears on Pac because I am afraid to openly want him and because he is such an unlikely choice for me? No shit sherlock Am I searching for reasons that would validate me staying single all because I am 51% scared of what taking chance could lead to and 49% willing to trust myself again.
This reminds me of that time I broke my back when I was 15 from falling off my horse. I fell, it hurt like a bitch, I had a back brace for like 9 months that I had to wear whenever I did anything remotely movement involved. After I took that bad fall, I stopped riding horses. I didn’t stop loving horses, I still adore all things equine to this day. But after that hairline fracture, the bruised nerves, twisted vertebrae and that damn brace, I just didn’t ride anymore. Maybe because I was scared, but more than that I didn’t want to have to heal again. One close call was enough. I thought about riding again, dreamed about it, but I never trusted myself to actually do it again.
But what if I had trusted myself again ? Not all horses are the same and people evolve. The stories don’t have the same endings…
Am I in such a tizzy over this situation because it’s time to stop rationalizing shit and just trust my heart again, despite what happened all the other times? Yes,bitch things change. I don’t even know. All I know is that my emotions and my logic are taking turns beating the shit out of each other. So until I figure it out, I am going to do absolutely nothing.
So you want to know the real problem with being single?
It’s a maze. If you love the maze or if you hate the maze, it’s so clear getting into it and almost never easy to get out of it.Oy-fucking-vey. I am not going to lose my mind, but this shit is tapping dancing on my last nerve.
I am not going to admit to having a crush even if I am attracted like a moth to a fucking furnace…
I wrote this on the plane home and then forgot to post it… le oops . Anyhow, here is it… my pre Thanksgiving day thoughts and musings…
Today I go home to California for Thanksgiving Break. And this break comes not a minute too soon. Not a damn minute. I love how breaks always seem to pop up right when you need them most and sometimes want them the least.
I feel like I do need to come home. I got some self-checking to do. Oy vey. Oberlin has so become my place where I workshop who I am and who I strive to be as a woman. Sometimes it’s important to step away from workshopping and just chill the fuck out. Especially given the random, crazy and always surprising ish that has been going down in Oberlin since I came back from Fall Break.
Academically I basically slacked off in like allllll my classes. Slacking as in, since there is no pressing work to be done, there has been no pressing need for me to go full throttle, henceforth : le slack. I mean let’s be real, quizilla, clutch magazine and refinery.com all be looking real legit in the middle of a lecture about blahblahblah. And there are about a million things I can find to waste my time with outside of class if there no closely looming deadline hanging over my head. But alas, there inevitably comes a day when even the most proficient of slackers has to get it together. Over break, I got to evaluate what it’s going to take me to finish the semester strong and stay on beast mode academically.
Socially…. Man, I don’t even know what the fuck is going on in my social world of Oberlin. My housemate and I, have like the worst living together relationship ever. We will fight over shit that is so basic, it’s retarded. You know what though, I can actually sum up my living circumstances pretty easily. Russia and the USA during the Cold War. There is always just the thinnest little sheet of ice keeping us from absolutely killing each other.
Then there is my so-called romantic life in Oberlin. It’s like a indie chick flick or some other quirky but irresistibly annoying shit. Just as soon as I get really good at being single, just as soon as I don’t even entertain the thought of having a man anymore. Boom. Sparks are flying between me and yet-to-be-named-mystery man. (*next post kittens)
Spiritually. Yo, lately in Oberlin, I have been freakin on one. Like I get that everyone is special in their own way and all that good stuff. But there are some people who are especially gifted in very certain ways. I am one of those people. And I’ve just been trying to figure out how to use those gifts in ways that are respectful, helpful and impactful. I’ve been getting mad drunk on the water from the ‘Spiritual Awakening’ tank for real though.
Essentially, so much stuff has been happening in Oberlin, that now is a good and somewhat necessary time to take a break from all that. It’s time to go home and evaluate, have some fun and just take a breather from growing up. But here’s the rub.
Home feels like such a different place everytime I go back to it. Of course I am hype for seeing my Mom, my Aunts, dem babies and my Grandmother, I love seeing my family. What’s hard sometimes is just being home. Because like I said before ‘home’ is a such a bipolar space once you enter that 3 to 5 year transition phase between fully dependent childhood and fully independent adulthood. I ain’t got no job, I don’t own my own apartment. I am in that really confusing trajectory of my life when I am a adult but I am also very much so a child in that one critical way… financially
So well I am excited to be leaving Oberlin, I am somewhat uncertain of how to navigate my home space in California. Typically my tatic has been to stay in my room at all times and avoid any possible situation where shit could hit the fan. But given it’s Thanksgiving, I already know that shit ain’t gonna fly with my Moms. Either way… we’ll see.
5 Things that would make me feel like crying less.
I am just having one of those days when, i feel like crying. And thats not really crying in the ‘omigawdiamsofugginsad’ way. it’s like, i just feel like i am due for a good cry session. And whenever I feel like that I have a very set pattern. I try to go back the place where I sleep. I clean, everything in my room until it looks brand spank new. I put on music, light a shit-ton of candles and I try and make myself feel better. But I still have that cranky-whinny-mildly upset feeling in my stomach. So now here we are… I am doing some therapeutic blogging, before I re-arrange my playlist, thumb through some magazines and finally… take a fucking nap.
Mergha ! I am grumpers for no apparent reason.
1. A Really Nice Cuddle Session or Some Form of Physical Intimacy.
Point Blank, all ‘single and loving it’ bravado aside, there are some days when all you really want to cuddle up with someone. I can’t speak for anybody else but I know that when I am feeling kinda grumpy, glum or growly, being held and soothed is that good-good shit for my mood. Besides it’s the end of fall, and winter is surely coming. It’s practically biology that you want another warm body to feel against you. And really, I am a utter sucker for a strong manly man with a gentle touch. If I could get a cuddle session with a rent-a-hotguy or something… it would do alot for me.
2. A Hug From Someone in my Family.
Some of my favorite memories in my entire life are ones of me cuddling on a couch with my Mom or my Grandmother while we watch TV. I just love the familiar smell of family and the comfort of knowing, I can knock out somewhere safe and warm. In Gran-Gran’s house it’s all bomb ass food, couches waiting to be sprawled out on and breezes the carries whiffs of smog, BBQ and ocean salt. Don’t even get me started on the light either… that’s so beautiful, words don’t even try to compare. I think I’am actually just kind of yearning for some meaningful physical contact.
3. Comfort Food.
You know how, when you’re in a shitty mood, sometimes all it really takes to make you feel better is the right food dish…. Oyakodon. Bread Pudding. Sushi. A Honey-cat. A meatball sandwhich from my favorite Italian deli. A gourmet ciabatta roll with some goat cheese and fig jelly. Boba…. #drooling.
4. Warm Sunshine
Me and the Sun have a life-long relationship. Oberlin is like that random STD infected ho that tries to destroy your union. If I could have some sunshine, a golden red sunset with the right music and a blanket…. mannnnnnn.
5. My Muffin Boy.
I miss Achilles, If all else fails, I know he’ll always be down to play with me, cuddle and watch TV.
Back In the Day, when I was young I am not kid anymore.
Funny shit starts to happen once you become an upper classmen in college. You really start to locate yourself in the world as a fully actualized person. You learn that while you will always be your parent’s child, you are no longer a child. Somewhere within the 4 years of college, it you are trying to get fully grown and all that shit, you realize that in the world you have stand on your own two feet.
The ideas of home and family, begin to bend and flex in weird twisty ways that are beautiful, frustrating, painful and eventually invaluable to how you decide to live your life in the world.
Like me for example. I love my family so much it hurts sometimes. My family, specifically the women in my family are like my whole backbone and then some. In my family there is this uncanny kind of thing were we all bond super hard and super deep from day 1. I get that families are close, but I can promise you my family is uncommonly close knit. That makes growing up great and annoying at the same time. Everybody knows everything about everyone…. like everything. Growing up I was constantly surrounded by love and that is a blessing. The women in my family have certain trademarks: freakishly close bonds and strong personality. Thats a combo is that a great environment for a little girl…. maybe not so much for a young woman trying to find herself and be her own person.
Now as a junior, I am having to unload, dissect, analyze, comprehend and adapt my full coming into womanhood with my existing from girlhood. I am transitioning, I am joining the ranks of the women in my family and taking up a position where the next generation (*my baby cousins) will be as influenced by my inhabitation of womanhood as I was by the women I look up too.
It’s all very circle of life and whatnot.
I feel like as I get comfortable within and explore the terrain of my womanhood, I feel less like fruit hanging off the tree and more like my own branch of the tree. It’s come to that point in my life where my time as a child within my family is drawing to a close. Lord knows there will be times when I get put in my place but now I am a woman and that a whole different set of lessons. In my head it is so complicated that I can’t even unload it if I wanted too. Basically I am arriving to the point where even though my family will always teach me things, they aren’t the primarily constant developmental influences anymore. Trust me, if you send some time to think about, thats an insane transition to think about.
Then there is the idea of home. Home. Base. The Sanctuary.
Boy o Boy how that construct has changed for me. Last time I was home was Fall Break and even though I still a-fucking-dore my room, it’s a different kind of place for me. When I was in high school and even the pasty few years in college, my room has been the only place in the world I wanted to be. Everything and I do mean EVERYTHING that makes me who I am was nestled in that room. Books, old incense, journals, clothes…. just everything was in that room.
But over Fall Break, I felt something different when I was in my room. Something other than the usual bubbly, sunshine, and happy feelings. I felt…. cramped. And thats a big deal. My room is the only place in the world were I feel completely uncramped. Then I came to a realization. I felt cramped because my room has always been my workshop. My place in the world to built myself new wings or generally restore myself. After such a long time, many dark times and crazy times. I realize I don’t need my room to be my stabilization headquarters.
There are things in my room that remind of who I am. There are things in my room that stabilize me, comfort me, restore me, all that good stuff. But I don’t need it all to be super concentrated all the time. More than that is I realize that my room is my space in my parent’s house. My parent’s house. I have a place there and it is home, it’s the original base. But it’s not completely MYYYYYYY base. Again, I’ve gotten old enough to start conceptualizing what,where and how my home would be.
I say all this to say that there comes a time, and my time has kinda come, when you have to break out of the construct of your own childhood and well…. start being a woman… full time no breaks. I got 3 more semesters until graduation…..
Just when you think you’ve given up on the wild nights. Just when you get that point where Fridays mean some deep meditative time, food, daydreaming and maybe some friends coming over to chill. Just when you’ve finally figured out that you’re destined to be single in Oberlin pretty much until you graduate, and hey it might not be the worst thing ever, in fact it might be kind of fun and epic. Just-fucking-when you’ve reached a place of spiritual zen and you’ve made your wardrobe, make-up and hair the most significant long term relationship you think about.
Just when you’ve done all that shit, not a second before and not a second after, is when something hot, sexy and crazy will happen to you. Some kind of day or moment that will make up remember exactly why and how you got caught up in foolishness before…….
It was supposed to be like any other Friday, hanging in my house, bonding with my Netflix and having Diva spa time. Well, not exactly, I did have plans to go out to Black Friday at the campus club, but the plan was to go and you know awkwardly dance with some of my girls. Because let’s be honest, for as much as I love my female friends, I don’t go to the damn club to dance with my fuckin’ friends. I go to the damn club because I wanna get ratchet and dance on some dude like a sexy Beyonce video and be the hottest female in the place. I am just not the type of girl that is satisfied just play-grinding with my chicks. A dance club is a potential hunting ground and if I want to dance with another female, I’ll invite her over to my crib and we’ll bounce around to Spice Girls while we bake…
Anyway, me and some of my friends got just intoxicated enough to where going out seemed like a great video. I went ahead and took my hair down and styled it up into trendy half-baldy afro. I put on the red knit miniskirt with the zipper in the back and the awesome glow-in-the-dark rhinestone Rolling Stone’s belly top. I even gave myself a nice smoky eye look with shimmering golden lips. Hell I even put on my super cute electric blue VS lace panties. Slapped on my big crystal heart earrings and called myself a appropriately seductive looking hot ass mess. And I went ahead and walked the 700 feet from my house to the basement of the Student Union building.
When I got to the club it wasn’t even that crackin’. There were a few people there, all of them doing either the standard shuffle or the random freshmen or prospie girl trying to break some dude in. A normal Obie scene. I settled in talking to my old roomate at the bar and occasionally got up to shake my ass on one of my guy friends or blithely whin’ it up with some of the girls. But in general, I was chillin. I knew looked reasonably cute, I had just enough of a buzz to be enjoying myself but I wasn’t on the prowl at all. I mean I am in Oberlin for fuck sake, and nothing….like abso-fucking-lutely nothing is that poppin’ on the Oberlin scene to get pressed about. Or so I thought….
About halfway through the night, right at the point when I was beginning to wonder how long it would take me to make some nabeyaki udon while I let ‘Everyday Black Man’ load up on my Netflix, something kinda sorta happened… This guy, who shall hereon be known as Mack, who I really really used to be into started dancing in my vicinity. Even though I am not into Mack anymore, I can look at him and totallly remember why I was jonesing. He is that juuuusssstttt right combo of really sexy, really smart, with a dash of snarky and a whole lot of hidden super-good man qualities. So with a extremely rare cute guy within acceptable dance range, it seemed just plain out stupid not to take the opportunity and get my grind on.
And what do you know, the typical Oberlin Friday night surprised me. Before I knew it, I wasn’t thinking about japanese food and Netflix anymore. I was focusing on how nice it felt to roll my hips to one side and then the other. About how it felt bomb as hell to have the body of a grown ass man riding to the music behind me. Especially in a place where in general, if you are black woman packing some thickness, you have to be careful not break the dude holding your hips. I am big girl and I don’t like holding back when I am dancing, so Mack is a great dance partner for me. If I throw it back on him, he’s not going to stumble back or have a hard time layin’ it down on the dancefloor.
Having spent the last couple of months generally avoiding the club and social situations that involve flirtatious behavior, it felt both familiar and brand new to be dancing. But I am not even going to front, I was mad into that shit. So maybe us on the dance floor, kinda turned into a lap dance… Like I said, I haven’t been out to the club in a long while and I am a sexual being… back-logged sexual energy is like NOS at a party. No lie, I was enjoying myself to the max and whats really crazy to me is that on some psychic level, I knew he was feelin’ it too. I don’t about ya’ll but few things will revv my fucking engine harder than knowing that my partner is as into it as I am. When you’re not trying to front and be hard, but your eyes are locked on what we’re doing because how could you not stare at something so raw, honest and in the moment.
Then the DJ put on the old school slow jams. Dawg, it was a done fucking deal after that as far as I was concerned. I was back out on the dancefloor when it happened, Mack was floating around somewhere too. The music just kinda of dipped down from a club banger into a straight up GTD groove. Please believe that I snatched Mack up for the slow jams. And then shit got soooooooooo fucking real.
There are certain moments that happen, out on a dancefloor of any party you attend. Maybe it’s that moment when the dance circle forms and people just start showin’ out. Maybe it’s the moment with the DJ pull out a hip-hop classic like Biggie or Chaka Demus. Maybe it’s that desperation of the last dance before you either go home alone or snagg a boo for the night.
Or maybe it’s that moment when you are dancing with someone and just for a second, you forget everything but how your body is connecting with theirs, the intensity creates a little bubble around you and point blank, you aren’t just dancing with that person anymore. It’s all about his sweat and your sweat and how ridiculously hot his hand on your thigh is making you feel. It’s about how your faces are so close together, you are one hip-dip away from maybe daring to steal that kiss you used to daydream about. How you can’t use to stop your hands from going crazy and grasping onto his shirt, and pulling him just a little closer.You get that heady sexy feeling and you’re so completely into it, you don’t even notice that somebody might be starring. But you just don’t give a damn because, this moment is the one you waited for. When you have that awesome dance-floor sex connection that just makes you’re whole fucking night so badass, you can help but be happy. Even if this moment came almost half a year since you stopping wishing for it.
Because honestly thats what is making this situation fascinating for me. I was so so into Mack. I thought he was the shit. I remember why I felt that way and I know that the reason why I didn’t get with him, weren’t really my fault. It just didn’t pan out like that. So I hung up that crush, blew out the candle for him and moved on. I got really really into being single and came to a place where I was enjoying not even crushing on anybody but myself. Dancing with him shouldn’t mean anything, it was just a damn dance on a Friday night. If I am wise, I’ll just savour the memory and let it go. I’ll laugh about how last year I would have slapped a nun for that dance. I wont start analyzing every detail of every stupid thing, like I am prone to do when I get caught up. If I wise I’ll appreciate my flirt buddy, Pac and just not fall for the sucker bet. I’ll keep on my path of just concerning myself with school, myself and my friends.
But, just for a tiny little second, let’s say I am not wrong about all that. What if he is thinking about it too, (*which he sooo isn’t). What if last night did re-spark something that I had walk away from (maybe, but still probably not). What if I’ve become too comfortable being single, absorbed in my own little thoughtful world of ponderings and musings that I’ve gotten out of touch with how sometimes things can start with just a dance….
Oy vey, this is why I don’t play the what-if game. It’s Pandora’s box. I am so not going there over this…
Just when you had forgotten about that kind of moment, it jumps up and smacks you with a wrecking ball right in the libido. Re-activating ever single one of those secret wishes for passions you ever made on Friday nights. It makes you question if you should reinstall some of your faith in Friday nights, in the illusive possibility that there might at least be a ridiculously sensual sexy just-what-you-needed-and-wanted 15 minutes of dancing out there for you. Or that there could be something more just waiting to be sparked.
Well played, Oberlin college romantic/nightlife. Well-fucking-played.
Ever since I heard her song ‘Twice’ on that crazy ass episode of Grey’s Anatomy when George’s dad died, I’ve been in love. Her voice is so unique, it’s this crazy mix of ghostly and soulful, but it has a playfulness to it that makes listening so easy and chill. Almost like a black woman’s voice, but somehow so distinctive you could never make that misnomer. I love Little Dragon.
Her voice like a nice meeting place between Luciana Souza and a female version of Tom Frager. But I think the thing I like the best about her music is the way she plays with sounds to make her music sound so effortlessly like the ambient noise of a nieghborhood or someone’s way of life. It’s vibrant, but chill… exactly how I like my music.
This woman is so grossly underated. Imagine if Dido and Van Hunt had a baby…. it would be Esthero. Her voice is all ethereal lace and luxury but her lyrics are on some straight up seductive shit. Likewise her musical sound hits that same midway point between slick modern music and whispery seduction invitation.
Damn, this girl. I love how softly she uses the strength of her voice. It flirts with that line between Neo-Soul and Jazz. But really, Triana is versatile as fuck because Neo-Soul has some huge ass areas of overlap. Her voice likes being held in the arms of your big sister and just letting her voice kind of bubble up from under your feet. If her voice were a action and a place, it would be the last nap of summer underneath a fruit bearing tree.
Back in the day, when I was in high school, Fiest was the music I imagined being played while I was being seduced by my fantastically hot boyfriend, as I tried to work in my art studio. I would be painting a naked lady or something, the sun would be setting outside the panoramic view of my house and said fantasy boyfriend would come up behind me and the seduction would begin. I think the fantasy boyfriend was probably either Jason Momoa or Steven Strait…. lol shame.
Man, this list makes me look like even more of a black hipster than I already am…. but fuck that shit because this music is bangin !
I am having one of those days when I roll out of bed and I feel like the night before as somewhere irrevocably changed me. Shown me some line drawn in the sand that hadn’t known was there to begin with.
I am the kind of person that really likes to keep tabs on my personal growth. I like knowing when I’ve grown up, moved on or when something as changed in focus for me. Lately I’ve gotten better at being able to do that and still living my life in the present.
But yeah, just something about walking today and putting on my new yoga pants, tank top, leopard sweater, uggs and circle scarf just brought it back for me. I am somehow grown up. I am young and hot and freshly cool. I am blessed and highly favored. I am in a happy happy place.
I feel like this mini revelation is absolutely a result of deciding to release my ball of sunshine back into the world.
A Bubbly/Sunny Nature + Spiritual/Emotional Maturity + Fall (x1,000 my favorite season) - Reasons to be Moody and Cranky = A Ridiculously Fabulous, Nice Smelling, Artistically Epic and Well Balanced Version of myself…..
Ok so it’s become the appropriate time to talk about the BFB’s.
The Boyfriend Benefits.
Being back in Oberlin has once again made this subject prevalent to my mind. Over fall break, being in California allowed me the sweet luxury of forgetting why the fuck the BFB’s were even relevant to me. I was in Ojai, my favorite place in the world. I was munching on health food, basking in the sunshine, buying incense and perfume and general working on releasing my inner ball of sunshine back out to the world. Mission accomplished by the way.. but that’s another post. But yeah, being home in California kind of let me escape the pressure cooker effect Oberlin has on my libido and romantic urges.
But now I am back in Oberlin. Now’s Fall is really starting to settle in. The sky has gotten gray. The temperature has dropped. The happy sunshine flirtfest festival cornucopia of Summer is officially over. In the fall that promise of finding a cool new boo to sex up gets a little duller, Fall and Winter are the prime seasons for lovers in love, not people trying to fall in love. Falling in love is tricky. Being in love is wonderful, it’s a medically identifiable drug. Let’s be honest, who doesn’t want to be in love. Love kicks Ass. Both ways…
During the Fall and Winter, you are far less likely to meet your beau at some fabulous party ( fabulous parties have a impressively low and short life expectancy once the first snow hits the ground) . No No dear, during Fall and Winter you are far more likely to a.) already have a boo who you can just kick it with or b.) have periodically want a boo that you can cuddle and kick it with. Trust me these seasons will change your tune from happy single girl to lonely kitten so damn quick and you will inadvertently think that it’s because you want a man. And that wanting a boo mindset…. o my sweet lord Jesus is that a slippery slope.
God knows I’ve been there…fuck I am lowkey kinda there now…
Those boring as hell nights when my red Calvin Klein peacoat just isn’t enough to hold my interest. Those sweetly sexy rainy afternoon when I remember just exactly how fucking good a man’s body feels to cuddle up cover while a movie murmurs in the background. Those midnights when it gets so cold outside that you don’t touch the freezing window panes because they have iced over and you just want to share your udon noodles with somebody….. yeah girl, those times. Those are the times when you have to ask yourself as a single person, do you want a relationship or do you want…
The BFB’s. The Boyfriend Benefits.
The BFB’s include
Sex basically whenever you want it
Intimacy before/during/after the sex if you want it
A person (who you aren’t related to) in the world that you know gives a damn about you
The nice fuzzy feeling you get when you’re with someone you are romantically interested in
A built in movie/foodie buddy who is down to chill and have good times… and have sex with you.
Your Likelihood of Getting Your Heart Broken Goes Down. Lately there have been beaucoup movies made about this one. Having the BFB’s with the right person can keep you from getting your heart broken. Alternatively if you don’t have that great of control over your emotions, you could be setting yourself up for the whomp whomp.
You Get to Keep Your Mind. (*see # 3 on list below)
You Aren’t In It As Deep… the BFB’s is a casual union… it’s not a relationship. Relationships get real serious real quick just by nature of the dynamic. BFB’s keep it light.
The BFB’s are distinctively different from having a full on boyfriend those because they lack they following things you would have to negotiate in a relationship.
"O So you gonna kick it with your boo tonight?" That whole weird dynamic where you have to pick between your ‘man’ or your friends. In the BFB situation, thats not a problem because it’s clear that this is NOT your boyfriend, ya’ll have just kickin’ it.
Me Not Us. In a BFB setup it still gets to be all about you. There is no us. There is only me and you in this timeframe for sex and other shit. Boyfriends zap alot of time… buck fuddies… not so much. Which leads me to 3..
Boyfriends have a incredible talent to overtake your mind completely. I mean like, they will utterly commandeer your mental space. BFB though.. you know what it is and you know what it ain’t that will keep you sane.
yeah in relationship, there is always that constant threat of getting your heart fucked up.
So there you have it. The principles of the BFB’s. I will admit this, the BFB’s are a great short term cure for horniness and boredom, but long term it’s just not as satisfying as a great boyfriend ( being single is a experience where you aren’t really going to get what you want a lot of the times, but you’ll find a comfy enough middle ground for the moment…).
The BFB’s are like a great afterschool snack. Afterschool snacks are tasty, relatively easy to procure, and most importantly, they hold you for the moment. A afterschool snack can be as healthy for you as an apple with honey and peanut or as detrimental to your health as a deep fried Twinkie.The quality of the afterschool snack can make you either really filled up and ready to try out the main course or maybe you just wanna go sleep it off. One of the biggest benefits though the BFB’s is that you aren’t committed to it, afterschool snacks are easy clean up whereas… Having a boyfriend is like having a potentially mindblowing main course that not only takes a lot of time and energy to prepare but also have a trident of possible outcomes for that mystery meal 1.) it could make you terribly sick and you have to go recover before you can try again 2.) it could put an awkward/awful or straight up unpalpable taste in your mouth that will be hard to forget and you’ll have to try again orrrr 3.) it could be a great meal and you’re totally satisfied.
So you see the dilemma. The BFB’s offer one thing, a legit BF a whole ‘nother. The choice is up to you though. Are you down for a afterschool snack to hold you through or are you willing to take a shot for the mysterious meal course ?
I for one am still swinging in the middle…. for the moment…. but on the low… I think I might be sorta ready for the mystery meal…maybe.
So I am back in Oberlin to finish up the fall semester and I am making a habit of staying up too late and falling asleep while watching various movies, but always with a hunky lead. Last night that movie was Notting Hill. Straight out of 1999 with Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant.
I totally fell asleep after the first thirty minutes, but what I did see of the movie, I liked. Naw, wait, I think it’s okay for me to say that I loved what I saw. Hugh Grant has this great boyish quality to him that is irresistible. Boyish like he has that face never quite grew up, there is always a little bit of mischief in his eyes and that irresistible playfulness in his smile. Its hot in a way that is soooo not my type at all but it still makes me wanna give him a shot. That is 90’s swagg, it’s not really what you wanted but it’s what you end up needing to have. I mean the accent ain’t hurtin’ nothing either though.
And then there is Julia Roberts. She is a movie star among movie stars. The woman is a Hollywood icon, her heyday being totally the 90’s. She plays this role to a tee. I mean like damn. She does an incredibly skillful job of blurring the line between her persona as a celebrity and her role as the movie star in the movie.
Both actors here are immensely likable, another thing about 90’s rom-coms that I love and miss. When movie stars were actually movie stars, their claim to fame unsullied by reality stars that don’t know when to quit and a culture is obsessed with everyone getting their fifteen minutes of fame. That classic kind of movie star is a huge appeal point for me in this movie, because it had that kind of starcrossed lovers feel to it. I love love stories that involve two people who had every reason not to fall in love with each other. When it’s the odds outside their relationship that hopefully push them into bliss… sigh* sorry chick moment….
Anyways yeah, from the 45 minutes that I saw of Notting Hill, I just love that concept and the world where a movie star is still human enough to fall in love with a Average Joe. And a Average Joe is sweet enough and not fame-hungry enough to pull the starlet back down to Earth. And then even though she is famous and he is a nobody and all this other shit that should keep them apart, they fall in love. You make love and canoodle in this cute neighborhood in England and eat scones together and shit. It’s cute, it’s sweet, its genuine.
And thats what I love most about 90’s romance films. They reflect the world of movies right before special effects became more important than the human condition. Before crazy sexy scenes overtook the art of courtship. Before classic boy-meets-girls stories fell off for quirky, random somethings flat out weird as fuck love stories. Before my generation grew up and lost the happy romanticism of our childhoods and gave ourselves over to all this fake shit. The great 90’s romantic films show men who were men ( they had chivalry, gender roles they occupied but didn’t try to cement themselves too, muscles, a moral compass, and their own issues) but they still knew romance and they believed in love.
The women in 90’s films were just snappy enough to give them some attitude. They were 90’s babes who had funky and fun hairstyles, they wore terrible outfits, always had a troupe of girlfriends to listen to them bitch, and were general a fabulous group of women who were likeable and cool. They weren’t shamefully perfect like Amanda Seyfried and devotedly manicured like Kim Kardashian, they were girls like us. They had bad days, they had great days, and their wasn’t any real shame (*except for their own internal soundtrack) in them saying, ” I want to be loved” and then getting all weak in the knees for their prince charmings to catch him. I miss those movies. I grew up on them. They socialized me to want that manly guy and to be that girly girl.
Maybe things didn’t turn out exactly like that but, shit it was good.