Girl Crush

I can't help it - I am completely gushy over Michelle Obama. It's ridiculous, I know. But really, I can't help it. It has been such a pleasure to see such a beautiful black family in the national spotlight. Black people have been giving such shit for the last 20 years, and our image in the media has been so bleak, that it's just refreshing. Also, her hair is just so damn pretty and her taste is pretty much impeccable.

Trying to be appreciative and positive and positive and productive when all I really want to do is bitch. I have been feeling sluggish for the last few days because my sinuses are trying to disintegrate my head from the inside out. Wah wah wah. I know that it's nothing but I still feel like a big old bitch.

Things I feel I should be doing include: cherishing every precious moment with my son, being happy my current job lets me stay home with him, looking for a new job, eating healthfully.

Instead, I am: revelling in the fact that the kid's asleep, hating the fact that my job is so painfully boring and unstimulating (according to spellcheck, that is not a real word but whatever), not looking for a job because I suck, eating leftover pizza.

Currently buzzing on caffeine and watching Project Runway. Don't have anything specific to say, but wanted to make myself write to keep the creativity ball rolling.

I made some calls and applied for some jobs yesterday. I hate it, always. But I have to do it because that's the only way I'll get to where I want to be. Where is that? Uh...I dunno, but I'll know it when I find it.

Well, that's not entirely true. I'd like to report, but not like I'm reporting now. I want a voice that is mine - not just generic information. I saw that a few of the places I'm looking at have blogs. One of them has blogs that are lame-o. Maybe that could be a niche I could fill? I think the most important part is reaching out to the outside world. Not being so scared my whole life. I am insulated, that's why I'm stuck in the place (career-wise) that I am now.

Every few months (years?) I find myself looking for art. I get to the point where I'm sick of my brain turning to mush, and start looking for creativity. I guess I'm in one of those cycles now. What will come of it, I wonder?

ladies' night

ladies' night, originally uploaded by lsnowden.1980.

Though you can't tell it, these shoes are Cute. Very Cute.

These very shoes were on my feet the night I learned what countless adults have learned before me. That is to say, you can't go home again.

The club, or at least, this club, is for those who want to be quickly separated from their money, be hit on by losers and try to make the best of it to horrible, horrible djs.

Also, ladies of the Md.VA.DC area? Matching your earings to your panties is problimatic for many, many reasons.

times that i've expected one thing and got another:

-when i was younger, i guess I expected to get married and have a kid, but I never expected it would come so soon, or that I'd still feel like myself.
-I expected to be some kind of high-powered journalist who stomped around in power suits (a la Murphy Brown). Instead, my career has been a little...um...slower in taking off.
-When I was a scrawny, awkward kid, I expected to be hott when I was a teenager, like I was a cast member from Saved by the Bell. Instead, I was a scrawny, awkward teenager. I'm hott now though, so it's ok.
-I had no expectations for who my husband would be, except that he'd be very adult and wear suits a lot (I don't know what it was with me and the suits. My husband says 'fuck' a lot and mostly wears polo shirts -- unless he's doing his all-black architect thing
-I kind of thought it was possible that my child would be ugly. I have no idea why. Anyway, he is cute! Yay!
-Due to a very religious upbringing, I kind of thought I wouldn't even make it to this age, and that I'd be swept up in the Rapture? Which I was supposed to be happy about? But instead dreaded and jumped everytime I heard a loud horn or alarm? Instead, I'm still here. But I'm still a little nervous about the whole rapture thing.

Well that was kind of a downer, wasn't it.

I am currently not so much inside my head as I was last night. As a matter of fact, I am "working," screwing around on the internet and watching Judge Mathis. I don't know why I have this weird attachment to Judge Mathis - he's not as sassy as Judge Judy and doesn't really dig into dumbasses the way she does. Also, he has the sleazy charm of your friend's overconfident, younger-woman loving uncle.

I have been much more enamored of the internet lately. I think because of this year's round of Blogher posts. A lot of the ladies from he blogs I read daily went and I think the whole sense of community and bonding with fellow weirdo writers sounds like a good thing. Especially to me now, when I feel like I'm kind of floundering in that arena.

I actually hate every entry I write on this damned thing and find it incredibly boring. But I think deep down, I'm not a bad writer, just gotta keep at it.

loss

I'd like to find the words to talk about how much being a mother hurts. What I mean is, how once you have met baby and felt that indescribable perfect/mushy/overwhelming feeling, there is the dark underside of pain and loss.

In the past few days, I have stumbled upon blogs written by women who have lost very young babies. I have gotten sucked in, and then, suddenly and without much thought, I've cried.

Having the good in life, for me, right now, feels like the bad and dark and painful are lurking around the corner. And who is to say it's not? Those women had perfect innocent beautiful babies. How could we live in a world where such hurt is possible? How can I stop some disease, some sick person, some anything from stealing my baby from me? I want to gather everyone I love around me and keep them there. I want to enjoy my baby without imagining the horrible possibilities.

Black Woman in America

So...I'm watching CNN's Black in America special.

I've missed most of it this week because of a conference from work. So today's topic is The Black Woman. Yikes.

The plight of the black women is a touchy, painful subject. There is so much that can't be captured. Our feelings about our hair, our skin, our features. Our feelings about our black men (and sometimes the white women they love). What we can accomplish, what we can expect. We live in a world that has been desegregated, a world where Oprah is the queen of everything, but we still carry wounds that haven't begun to heal.

So far, the show has profiled a single, poor black women who has had 5 children out of wedlock and two single black women who have education, but not a man. But I haven't seen myself. I'm educated, I have a black husband, I feel pretty comfortable in the working world. Am I an anomaly? Just lucky? I don't know, but I do know I've already seen these women. I want to see change, I want to see happy women, successful comfortable everyday women. Am I naive in thinking they are out there?

Aahhhh

One of the things about my life that's changed since having a baby is that those moments where I don't have one person attached to a boob, and another person trying to attach himself to other places (ahem) are so freaking sweet.

Like right now. I cannot imagine a better scenario that me, kicked back on the old futon with an ice cold coke and some shrimp fried rice watching tv.

Right now I am feeling very tired, very lucky, very overwhelmed and very ungrateful.

Tired because, duh, I'm always tired. Lucky because I get to spend most of my days with my baby (which, since I'm breastfeeding, cuts out a lot of pumping annoyance) but overwhelmed because - oh shit, I spend most of my days with my baby. While "working" (the less that is said about that, especially on the Internet, the better). I feel ungrateful because even though I know life is sweet right now, I can't help but focus on the things I don't have. Well specifically the money I don't have to buy whatever it is I think I want at the moment. But it's also the life I don't have. The courage I don't have. The gumption I don't have.

My husband tells me he gets tired of my whining, which actually makes me feel like I made the right choice in marrying him. I need somebody to kick my butt sometimes. I need to be woken up.

And here I am again. This is part 3,423 of me trying to blog a little every day. I feel like my brain is slowly turning to mush, what with the baby and the stupefyingly dumb coworkers I have, so I'm one again trying to appeal to the right side of my brain to not give up and jump ship.

The good news is that I'm not nearly as frightened of my baby as I was the last time I wrote here. I can usually tell what he's crying about and I don't feel like I'll never ever leave the house again. I'm not gonna lie though, it's just easier some times to stay home. I can understand how people have kids and get fat and watch tv all the time.

Things that are going on right now are:
-being a momma is forcing me to keep doing stuff even when I want to go to bed
-I feel creatively retarded right now, like I'll never be where I want to be as a writer
-Today, Jerryn and I had our first fight where I was not afraid it would be the end of our relationship...I could let it go for a while without feeling the need to call him immediately and resolve the issue.

Blah blah blah. I'm making myself write so that I'm not obsessed with baby stuff. Or episiotomy stitches. I don't have much to say, though. I mean other than baby stuff. I spend my days nervous about whether he's eating enough and lamenting my sore boobs. I get weepy sometimes. I know nothing about different types of bottles. I watch my mother in law clean my house and feel only slightly ashamed of myself.

I don't have a hobby. I watch a lot of judge shows. That's what's going on with me right now.

Raw

I am scared now that i'm a mother. I'm scared that he's not eating enough. I am raw with worry. I want to stop. I want a break. Which is crazy because I have all the help in the world. But, it's just that this is forever. Cameron's not going home after a while - he is home. And the possibilities of what kind of mother I'll be, what kind of family we'll be, what kind of person he'll be - are endless.
I have to get a hold on myself. I have anxiety, which is normal, and I need to remember that. I can't let it rule my life. I will be happy damn it.

Life is very sweet right now. There is a squirmy baby in my belly. I am married, and happily so. Things have taken an upturn in my career. Things are good and I am so very greatful for that.

That said, I have some things I'd like to work on for the coming year. The consensus with most people is that New Year's resolutions suck - and maybe they do - but I think now is the perfect time to take inventory of what's going on in my life and set some goals for myself.

I'd like to open up my life a little more. When things were getting out of control and I was going through my depression, several people were purged out of my life. I say it like that because it's not like I woke up and said 'I don't want to be friends with x, so I won't.' Rather, we just stopped identifying. Conversations got strained and uncomfortable. I got really fucking horrible about returning phone calls. After that, my circle of friends was more like a triangle. Including my husband, I have about three people I can call up and bug when I'm bored. Other than that, I've been doing a lot of hanging out with people my husband knows. So, I'd like to open myself up to the possibility of new friends of my own.

I need to challenge my brain more. Pregnancy has made it very easy for me to lie in bed watching tv while my brain and butt turn to mush. I want to find some kind of hobby to keep myself occupied and to learn new things. I'd also like to read more.

That's all I can think of right now, and frankly, it's enough. Adios for now

Today I learned

Today I learned that I want to be a great writer, not just an employed writer (though I pretty much already knew that; I forget sometimes.)
I learned that I want to speak my mind
That I have something to offer
That I really am passionate about journalism, it's not just a line on my cover letter
That I'm going to start ruffling some feathers, and I'm going to enjoy it.

I think the baby crazies are finally getting to me. I was a raving, emotional bitch this weekend, and the past few days I have been in a bit of a funk. At 24 weeks, I now look like I have something about the size of a soccer ball shoved down my shirt. And my ass is getting bigger, too - I guess it doesn't want my tummy to feel alone.

I'm figuring out more and more lately that if I want something, I'm going to have to work for it. Nothing comes easy. That applies to my job, this blog (which I am barely tending to, obv.) and even superficial shit like my hair. I know it's an obvious to most people, but oh well - I guess I'm slow to learn sometimes.

My major goal right now is to drum up some freelance writing work. I feel like I am sooooo far away from it happening. I had a burst of energy a few weeks ago, and even made a connection with a paper here in Baltimore, but so far that seems to be languishing in the background. I know I need to keep moving forward. I need some more ideas as to how to do that.

Baby!

Sometimes I begin to kind of wrap my head around the fact that there is a tiny person with a tiny penis living inside me -- and it freaks me the fuck out.

Something Real

I titled this post with nothing specific to say in mind, except that I am looking for something real.

I clutter my mind with crap entertainment but there are things that I want, things that are important to me.

I met someone last weekend and she told me I should start calling myself a 'journalist' when someone asks what I do. My normal reaction is to say I write for a website, but that sounds kind of sheepish and half-assed. Journalist is real because journalist is what I want to be.

One Thing

I'm determined that I can work for the life I want. I am blessed with many things, but there is one major, career thing that is sucking away a lot of my happiness. I want to be able to enjoy certain aspects of my life other than work, and I'd also like to be a lot more comfortable money-wise and I need to work hard to make that happen.

Some excuses

Some excuses I've made for being the fabulous writer I'm supposed to be:

-I'm not ready yet; I need more practice
-I don't know what to do
-I'm too shy
-I need someone to help me

Bullshit. I am not meant to be in the place I'm in (at least jobwise) forever.

Also, I'm heartened by yesterday's Jena 6 rally. I love black people and see the potential in them, too.