June. Even More Amazing.

I know; after such an amazing Mayo, after the wonderful experiences and all the love, how could June be more amazing a mere 11 days in? After going on my first cruise, my first experiece out of the country, my first real vacation in ages, how on earth could a-little-over-a-week-into June be that much better? Well, for one thing, I got to see my favorite band, The Legendary Roots Crew, live again. This time was a little different from the others. This time was something like a hip-hop fairy tale.

I had been discussing going to Philadelphia for this year's Roots Picnic for months. I love hip-hop, and as mentioned in previous posts, I love seeing The Roots live and ?uestlove is among my favorite people alive because of his talent, drive, intelligence, and contributions to the music world. It's all respect. (Admittedly, my post from last year's show was a bit of an exaggation on my crush. I read back on it and realzed that my sarcasm doesn't always shine through clearly in my writing. D'oh.)

After coming back from the Bahamas, and spending far more money than I intended, I actually worried that going to Philadelphia was not feasible. And quite honestly, had my travel companion not already purchased her tickets and made arrangements to go, I'd have talked myself out of it. You only live once, though, and I decided to go for it. In the interest of saving money, we decided to fly to Philadelphia. Neither of us had ever been on an airplane before; and the day before the trip, we both got butterflies.

The flight was fine. It was smoothe. It was beautiful. It was..short. We landed in Philly about 45 minutes after take-off. We shuttled our way to the hotel, and went to a casino for a while before retiring for the evening. Let's just fast-forward to the show, shall we?

12pm. Saturday, 6/4/11. We walked around, and bounced from stage to stage. We networked and spoke with Phillyfolk.

We bought t-shirts for the music festival. Duh.

We noticed that okayplayer was having a contest. To enter, one either tweeted or signed up for their mailing list. I'm not one for things like this; I don't gamble because I'm not fond of the disappointment you feel when you've not won. However, the winners of the drawing won the opportunity to watch The Legendary Roots Crew and Nas from onstage. We'd be foolish not to try, right?

So we tweeted. And signed up. And had people retweet.

And enjoyed the show. Saw some people I didn't know of. And some people that I did. Some soul, rock, rap. Donn T. Yelawolf. Oh, and did I mention Esperanza Spalding performed with The Roots? With all apologies - I was so excited, I didn't get a much better photo than this:

Sometime during the course of the day, my companion and I tweeted about how amazing we thought Amanda Diva to be. And she tweeted us back. I am fully aware of how nerdy that sounded.

The performances were great. Wiz Khalifa had several special guests that included Freeway and Beanie Sigel. Wiz's set was over at 8:30pm. Once that was over..the winner of okayplayer's contest would be announced.

They only picked two winners.

Amanda Diva came on stage to announce the winners.

My companion wanted to listen. I didn't want to get my hopes up.

Questlove snare roll..

She announced my companion. And I was excited! But I won't front like I wasn't a little salty. I mean, we came from NC together. We signed up on everything together. I know that it was a supposed random drawing, but it didn't seem likely that the odds were in my favor. So I stood. And waited for the announcement of the second winner.

Questlove snare roll..

Me. I won. I froze. I screamed. I waved. People rejoiced for me. RIGHT HERE. I WON. OH MY GOD. THAT'S ME. IWONIWONIWON. I ran to the side entrance of the stage.

Nas rocked. The Legendary Roots Crew rocked. As expected. They are my favorite live hip-hop act. They're utterly and always amazing. Did I mention that I met Kamal Gray and James Poyser as they walked to their keyboards?

And that Questlove and I kept making eye-contact during his set? Which, I know is probably a typical fanatic thing to say since he was lookign in my direction and I wanted it to happen. I know that it sounds ridiculous. I'm a very rational human being and I don't feel the need to defend myself. I know what happened.

Great show. We hung out, excited, processing the events of the day, when my comrade pointed out Questlove leaving the stage. My thought was, "damn. My only chance to meet him." Yet, who could even be mad after such an awesome day? Not me. Not at all.

Then we saw Black Thought. And talked to him. And took a photo with him. I'd be ruining my no-photos-of-myself-on-the-blog rule if I posted it. And then we saw Yelawolf. And talked with him. And took a photo with him. And I got felt up by him. There was far too much energy for me to process what was going on.

I was hot and sweaty and wanted to go back to the hotel to change clothing before attending the official after-party.

I was tired from standing up all day long. While I pledge allegiance to the fashion, and am quite flexible in what I wear, I'm generally a dress wearing gal for parties. However, I wore ripped jeans, a tank-top, and Converses to the show.

And our hotel was on the other side of Philadelphia.

And we'd been having the time of our lives.

So, screw it. Let's go to the official after party wearing the same clothing that we wore to the festival. We'd be fools to miss the party because I wanted to get pretty! Onward we went.

We sat and ate fish and grits with Phillyfolk. We talked about our excitement.

We watched Questlove walk right into the venue. And I respect the artistic zone, so I was not going to be that girl to disturb his music high while he was on the way to the dj booth. Nope.

We entered the club to party. We intentionally moved near the dj booth. And I lost my five-foot-tall protege among the people inside. I'm standing by myself, listening to the music, just a few feet from Questlove. And a guy unintentionally bumps into me and I nearly fell. I was caught. He was face to face with me and apologized. It was Captain Kirk Douglass. Guitarist of The Legendary Roots Crew. I was stunned. He apologized and moved to talk to Questlove; on his way out, he bumped me and apologized again.

We partied. We went outside for air. We went back inside for a moment, and I danced with a guy from another state for a while, while my homegirl had to handle some business. And while this guy is in my ear, my friend comes back and grabs my arm and takes me over to Questlove. She introduces herself and explains that we took our first flight ever to see him. And that I love him.

And then he grabbed my hand. And I blushed. And he smiled at me, and made his way out.

I wish the story ended with me losing a glass slipper, but I wore Converses to the party. I didn't give him my phone number or scream out my level of devotion to him. Instead, I was civil. Classy.

And it was the best weekend of my entire life.

April Showers bring...MAYCATION!

With the winding down of my incredibly active April, I was quite satisfied - and exhausted - with all of my groundwork and advocacy for Sexual Assault Awareness Month. Though, May was very busy and quite lovely because my best friend/cousin turned twinny-five. Yes, that's right. We're reaching a whole new realm in adulthood.

To kick off her birthday, we saw Mint Condition and Raheem DeVaughn and it was a fabulous show. Raheem-the-dream just don't know!

The next night, we partied. Hard. A bit too hard. I'd bore you with the details of our club hopping and all that but...some things stay just 'tween us girls. It was a success. A very wild and exciting success.

A week later, I traveled out of the country for the first time. That's right folks; she and I went to the Bahamas. And it was an amazing trip.

We bummed. We learned. We tanned. We shopped. We partied. We ate. We had the time of our lives.

There are no real words, but there are photos worth thousands.

To top it off, cousinbestfriend got engaged at the end of the month. It was a good one.

Peace, love.

Coming Up!

Over the last thirty days, I've been incredibly busy. I've seen a few live shows. I've traveled out of the country. I've taken my first plane ride to a state I've never visited. I've seen my favorite band again - except this time, things are different.

I think that the best way to handle this is to break my last thirty days into many mini episodes over the course of the next few days. Be very afraid.

It's All Effie's Fault..?!

First of all, I'd like to apologize for my absence in the last several days. Though this post will be brief, I will be back in full force eventually. You see, I've been living my life like a string of parabolas and the down part of the spiral included a trip-turned-unpaid-vacation down the highway to home(though not incredibly pleasurable). Experiencing a loss is something every person has to grow to experience and accept, and I had to turn on my ability to nurture in order to soothe my family's hurt. A huge pet peeve of mine, though, is people constantly questioning whether or not I'm okay; so dear readers, if any one is out there, I guarantee you that I am absolutely fine and I appreciate your thoughts of encouragement in advance.

I left the city to head home last Saturday morning after punching out at work in the morning, and I was hardly tired. As a matter of fact, I ended up staying at work an extra few (okaaaay, thirty) minutes to finish "The Banality of Heterosexism" before getting on the road. Unfortunately for me, my trek was filled with far too many stops (maybe I was tired, maybe I was bored), traffic, and a phone conversation with a former friend.

Somehow, throughout the conversation, the question of my current love life came to light. I'm not the type of person that delves into my personal life with too many people as it relates to my relationships and decision making, and sometimes less is more. Besides elaborating on my being single and content, I also spilled the beans on a rat guy I was seeing, and actually liking, who actually had a hundred couple other "girlfriends", all complete with the same nickname, other than me. I wasn't incredibly heartbroken, as I dumped him weeks before even realizing that he was just awful. That's right, even with the broken dates and bullshit excuses, there was still some inkling of what I thought was a combination of good person/shitty boyfriend left, and it was the most peaceful "I'm just gonna walk away" thing I had ever done.
...until it wasn't.

Yet, the ugly details aren't included and since they don't really matter, I only shared that the person that I very much liked at one point, and even more quickly bounced back from, turned out to be the very deserving object of my disgust.

The friend on the phone, a Black man himself, allowed me into the world of "how Black men think"; as he began to postulate, I rolled my eyes all the way down ninety five and even caught myself almost kicking my feet up on the dash and munching on popcorn.

The gospel according to him was as follows: since I am a plus sized lady, Black men think that I am easily controlled as a result of a lack of self esteem. Therefore, if I don't want to be treated like shit, I need to be a size two. Easy enough formula, right? As he expanded upon his theory, I did not find myself upset at his preachy "I know Black men as a Black man"-itudes; I giggled because I thought it to be one of the sillier things I had heard. His explanation for this was the "fact" that the only Black men I am to ever attract (by my own fault, no doubt) are looking for a woman that they can impose their views on; as a matter of fact, he even threw this little diddy in the mix: when a Black man dates a Black woman, she's the most shapely, finest goddess that he can find -- but when they go after white women (again, to impose upon), they're always "nasty looking". Yes, folks: it was all Effie's fault that Curtis dogged her

...word? Well, on top of this conversation being utterly random and disgustingly stitched together, I find a few faults with this logic:

1. That some Black men take offense to this idea that any Black man is or could ever be controlling (ergo, abusive) in one context, but will justify it in another.
2. That this one Black man speaks for the lot of Black men.
3. That I'll never have/have never had a "successful" relationship because of my appearance and not my other attributes.
4. That plus-sized = ugly, lowered self-esteem having wenches who are chosen by these men.
5. That aforementioned wenches never have a say in with whom they choose to enter relationships.
6. That skinny women do not have self esteem issues or relationship problems.
7. That non-"nasty looking" white women are not interested in or dating Black men.
8. That plus-sized women are of less value than average-to-skinny women.
9. That any one person is to blame for another party's actions.
10. That there are not men (or for argument's sake, women) who enjoy a little more..erm..fluff.

...and that is just to name a few. Now, I didn't take this as a personal attack because obviously, I think this is utter foolishness. Could I stand to drop a few lbs? Sure, but when I do, it isn't because I'm attempting to draw attention from another person. I don't think that I should even seem combative in saying that I date; I've documented a few dates on here on the blog and the people that I encounter are interesting enough. I don't think I should even have to harp on the fact that I'm satisfied with the person that I am/am becoming, and that my singlehood is by my own volition. Sure, we would all very much enjoy companionship, but having no anchor to anything right now (and being the personable anti-social that I tend to be), I can up and move away as I am currently contemplating any time the mood strikes. And honestly, I believe I'm always "fly" (actually a nickname given to me by an former boyfriend) and of all the attributes that might keep me single - Black power fueled with feminism, opinionated nature, inability to produce a successful joke, Billy-Bad-Assedness, heavy flow (read: straight-up-inappropriateness when I'm trying to tell a joke, ha!) - my appearance is the least of my concerns. Lastly, I don't think that I should have to elaborate on the fact that the way I am online - forward, opinionated, sometimes-bitchy (and even sometimes offending) - is exactly the way I am when I click "sign out" - which pretty much rules the no-confidence-and-lowered-self-esteem malarkey instantly. More than anything, this was all very amusing before I opted to hit him with the shrug-and-"I'mma let you finish"-move; I hung up and continued rolling down 95 as pleasantly as I began my journey.

I don't have control over another person's actions; that mickey-fickey decided for himself to cheat and go in the direction that he would - and he has total ownership of that. Other people's problems are...well, they're their problems.

Know that. Smile. Be Righteous.

Am I Trippin'?

I often find that, in relationships, I try to see the good in people. I loathe excuses and I don't settle for less than I feel my worth to be. Yet, once I decide upon "liking" a person, I'm convinced that they will always consistently maintain the positive qualities that I initially saw in them. Call me crazy, but I hold people to the same expectation that I try to hold myself: remain sincere and change for the better.

I don't think that good people change for the bad (or exhibit their lacking) overnight; and as a matter of fact, I think that more often than not, the changes are unintentional. Of course, this begs the question of how "good" they really are since they spiraled to a real of this different persona, but I'd prefer to see the light in people. I also think that, in relationships, some people put on a facade and exaggerate their better qualities (or the qualities that you want to see) and it fades because it's difficult to push yourself to be a person that you aren't. Na'mean? Anyway, call me crazy but I like to be real-real all the time. Sometimes relationships don't work. They don't have to end negatively. And they can certainly be resolved by two responsible adult persons amiably if both people are upfront and direct, yet respectful.

Despite whatever way my last relationship ended (and without ultimately blasting my own business and appearing disrespectful), I'm well versed in the art of letting people go and moving forward. I'm risiliant; and I have always been able to weather any storm. As a matter of fact, I was explaining my new job to a friend of mine, and explained to him that some people were just born to deal with trauma. And I'm that person; I've dealth with every end and aspect of it and I'm built for it.

I went on a literal trip today, and eased down the road and away from the city to a cozier, more familiar city states away that I am proud to call the place of my origins. I figured it was an awesome opportunity; my uncle happened to be driving down for the weekend and I had a free-99 free ride. My uncle and I have a wonderful relationship; he is like a father to me. I do have my own father that I love very much, yet if I should ever take the plunge get married, I want them both to walk me down the aisle. Though I am very private, I can confide in him. He knows my attitude and origins. He knows who I am, without needing the unneccesary details about most of my relationships. He does know a few exes, and doesn't care of them but he (usually) respects the fact that I can fight my own battles.

So what are the odds that over an hour south of the place where I currently reside, my uncle decides to stop in a town I hadn't heard of until a few months prior to get coffee. The town where my ex works. Where I first met him. Where I was convinced that, though I felt as if I had been duped, I could grow to enjoy being with him. When I just knew he was a wonderful, relatively "perfect" guy, even in his imperfections. I closed my eyes for a second and pictured the moment I met him. I could feel that instant. It was a happy moment. I can hear him in my head, "what are you doing driving this big truck?" I remember the butterflies I felt. And the blushing. I can tell you what he wore. I can tell you, with confidence, that he was happy.

It was different before the change, whenever or however it occured. Intentionally or unintentionally. It was a different time, a time before the mine fields and repeated forgiveness of neglect. I was over the relationship, having removed myself from it. I was totally over it, but when we got off the highway, I could only think of him. Of a different version of "us".

My mind raced. The second we pulled off at the exit, the good I saw in him, the transition to the bad, the sour taste he left in my mouth after unfulfilled promises, the dissatisfaction with more personal situations. These thoughts all came to me, swirled in my mind at once and created a quilt of unusual emotions: I wasn't confused a bit. I don't want him after how he regarded me for attempting to be respectful about his shortcomings. I don't want him after all the nights I sat in the house on dates that were broken. I don't want him after he backed me into a corner so that I would break up with him. Yet and still, the thoughts swirled, mixing the amazing qualities I saw in him initially with the way things were.What if I run into him. What if he took a Starbucks run at the exact same instant I decided upon a latte? No Starbucks for me then, I'll have coconut water. What if, in the second I dashed through the supermarket, trying not to miss my ride to the good old Dixie, I bumped into him on the foreign foods aisle? How would I feel? Would I want to kiss him? Would I want to break his face? Would I be able to ignore him? What if, when we stopped for gas at the station he once directed me to, he was also pumping gas? If I saw him would he ignore me? Probably. Would I be pissed at him for not being able to behave as an adult and discuss an issue with me? Would my uncle, always ready to challenge an opposing fraternity member, be ready to jack him up for leaving his favorite niece bitter? Would he push me to the dark side with his refusal to remain real with me? I can probably see his car from here...would he respond if I sent him a message?

While this seems as though it would have been drawn out, it wasn't. These thoughts all hit me for a split second and I took a deep breath and traveled on for coconut water. Being the initiator, I wasn't upset by the break-up, but by the change. I wasn't crying or caught up, and my bounceback only took a minute: instead of sitting in the house miserable for a change, I was out and enjoying life. It was a beautiful Spring in the District and I was enjoying it with good company and family.

I'm not crazy. I don't like dramatic break-ups or unnecessary performances that draw more attention to a situation than is required. I don't believe in focusing on the bad; I never once muttered all of the bad to my best girlfriends, even. What's the point? I'm only human. I want to believe that he is too.

We pressed on. On through our journey, our trip to the South. And in that instant, I pressed on through my trip. I'm glad it's over.

Meet Me in Osaka!

As far back as I can remember, I've always been a Jack Jill person of all trades; I previously wrote about my parents pushing me into everything (and my lack of resistance, clearly) and I've always had a very broad spectrum of things in which I was both interested and good at. I hate explaining that to people because I feel like it always sounds a bit assholish saying "oh yes, I can do everything", but my intent is not to boast of my omnipotence, smile.

As a matter of fact, while I was into the Backstreet Boys, Hootie and the Blowfish, Tupac (since he never died), and Korn all at the same time, my dad told me I should narrow my interests (and this devastated me for up to/after ten years later, when he had no recollection of it and claimed that he must have been joking).

Coming up, my family did not have a lot of money and as such, I've never really traveled anywhere. I mean, besides up and down the east coast. My dad is from Nueva York, so multiple times a year we would drive up to visit my grandma, aunts, cousins, and childhood friends (which may include what is disputably my first long distance boyfriend, unngh). My New York cousins spent summers with us in North Carlina, and we'd travel the state. One year, we went to Florida and went to Sea World, Wet 'n Wild, and Universal, where one of my biggest fears was solidified. I was a fresh 23 when I visited Disney World for the first time, just months ago, and I probably appreciated it a lot more than I would have as a kid. Especially since I had to pay my way...lol. This is beginning to sound a little Everybody Hates Chris-ish; I love my parents and everything that I've experienced thus far. But, as the kid who was born a woman of the world, I am certainly planning on seeing more than I have. As a matter of fact, my aunt is encouraging me to accompany them to Egypt next year and I'm considering it.

Last night, I was watching an episode of a favorite show No Reservations with Anthony Bourdain and he was visiting Osaka, Japan. My oldest maternal aunt, the only one of three maternal aunts currently speaking to me, lived in Japan for sometime before I was born. And every where else. Visiting Japan never really crossed my mind; I mean, when I got excited about going to Japan, I texted my best friend and she made it clear that she wasn't into Anime or Harajuku-anything; I did explain to her that there's more to a culture than two things but she told me that she's rather go to Darfur or Afghanistan. At any rate, I've never really been into anything Japanese besides food (and I'm talking homemade from my mother's Japanese-raised Korean students) and Pokemon, but the episode of No Reservations really rounded it out for me. The show is primarily about food, but he generally discusses a lot of cultural traditions and tourist-type things.

Having practiced Buddhism for a few years, some of the other things about the episode really interested me: the Kiso Forest and the spiritual(?) rituals relating to it.

I've never been on an airplane before. Or anything bigger than a fishing boat (and I'm not talking about a shrimp'n boat, Mr. Gump), I'm talking about the one that you row-row-row gently down the lake stream. I feel a little embarrassed telling people these things since people in my circle have, at the very least, traveled to a different time zone.

Anyway, I kind of decided yesterday that Japan will probably be the first on my list of international experiences, and that, if I am able, I would be interested in going by the end of next year. Of course, there are many factors that affect whether or not this will actually happen, but it's a goal. Sure, I'd love to visit Egypt and the many other parts of Africa, Italy, Ireland, and Greece. Those places all seem amazing too. I even think I want to go to Toronto sometime soon-ish. But something about Japan seemed incredible as a first trip.

What Can I say, I don't believe in doing things half-way; when I intend to do something, I have to make it a big deal. I guess we'll see what happens!