June 2003 Archives

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via my smoochacha.

I took a gander at the new season of Project Greenlight tonight. Afterwards, I decided to go to the Internet Movie Database and see what I could find out about the film and the people who have been cast in it. Efram Potelle is one of the winners of the Director contest. He will be directing the Battle of Shaker Heights. Take a look at his resume. He's written, produced and directed a few films. I was pretty sure that I heard Project Greenlight was supposed to be for up and coming directors, writers etc. Look at the contest rules and eligibility requirements. Doesn't it say you can't have producing, directing or writing credits already? What am I missing?

B. Professionals. Persons who have achieved the status of "Professional" (as defined herein) are not eligible to participate as "Screenplay Contestants" or "Director Contestants" in the Contest (although they may participate as "Reviewers") (as such terms are defined below). For purposes of these Official Rules, the term "Professional" shall mean any individual who, as of the Start Date: (i) has received any form of producer credit (e.g., "Executive Producer," "Associate Producer," or "Co-Producer") on any film, series, episode, movie-of-the-week, music video, or mini-series produced for release in theaters or by means of home video, any form of television, or any similar medium; (ii) has received sole or shared writing credit on any film, movie-of-the-week, or mini-series produced for release in theaters or by means of home video, and form of television, or any similar medium; (iii) has received sole or shared directing credit on any film, series, episode, movie-of-the-week, music video or mini-series produced for release in theaters or by means of home video, any form of television, or any similar medium; or (iv) has sold or optioned a feature film screenplay to any U.S. or internationally based film production company, studio, network, exhibitor, distributor, or any entity or individual affiliated therewith.

I love the way summer nights can be warm and calm. I love the way the breeze can blow just right. When I feel the air tickling my skin, I can’t help smiling. This is good.

I love the way kids laugh at the silliest things. I love to watch kids when they don’t know they are being watched. That is when they do the cutest things.

Bath time should also be play time since that is what they do anyway. Even when you threaten them with going to bed early, when you leave the room they are right back to splashing and giggling.

I loved hearing Mini-Hulk giggle when he rode the slide. He kept sliding down it face first. He would gurgle my name and make sure I was down there waiting on him before he went. Then he would climb out, run back to the ladder and start all over again.

I loved hearing Thing 1 and Thing 2 squeal when Baby Girl and I pushed them on the swings.

I am going to remember this time forever.

I’ve been playing “mommy” for the past few days and loving it. My little cousin has been staying with me. He’s a sweet little boy of five and we adore each other. He gives me big hugs and kisses and calls me “Titi” because he’s more like a nephew than a cousin.

On Sunday Tiffanny and I took the boys (her son, my cousin/nephew) shopping and got them shorts and t-shirts for the summer. We promised them that if they are good all this week, we will be taking them to see “2 Fast, 2 Furious” this coming Saturday. To punctuate it, we bought them matching “2 Fast, 2 Furious” shirts. They also got Hulk underwear, Bob the Builder shirts, Spider-man shirts and a whole lot more.

Tonight their treat is going swimming in the pool at my cousin’s house. I don’t know if they will still feel up to it by the time I pick them up because we let them stay up pretty late last night.

I have a new appreciation for my mother. I knew that having children was hard work, but I didn’t realize how hard until this week. Still, I’m having fun and I love him to pieces.

Pardon me, I have some kids to go pick up at daycare.

Today I was able to be there in a very special way for a friend that I care a lot about and it made me feel good. We have some additions to our household and I don't feel the least bit stressed about it because I know that they feel at home here and everything will be all right.

Besides, by blessing others, we too can be blessed.

With all the drama that went on at work yesterday and more drama occurring on a personal front today, I did not make it out to Los Angeles as planned. My granny forgives me though, as long as I promise to make it out there for July 4th. I’m thinking I’ll take Lil’ D to Sea World along with my Granny, Mini-me, New Year Baby, Lil’ K and Tiffanny. That sounds like a fun 4th of July weekend.

Some shit went down at work today. A pretty high ranking person sent out an email with a disparaging remark about another employee. They meant to send it to one person only, but in some weird form of karmic justice it was sent to the entire company. May I mention that the person who sent the email is known around the building for having a very snotty attitude and not being very friendly to fellow employees.

The remark did not go unnoticed. A good number of people sent emails of complaint to our corporate offices. They responded swiftly and with justice. No one else will have to worry about getting attitude from this person again.

Karma. It is everywhere. The world is very round and what goes around comes around. That has never been more evident to me than today.

I am always ready for the weekend. It’s like short 2 day vacations from work. I vow to make the most of them from now on.

This weekend, the plan is to drive to L.A. and see my Granny. Some of my other friends will be driving out there also and the plan is to meet up on Saturday night to go clubbing. Clubbing in L.A. is different than clubbing in Vegas mainly because clubbing in Vegas is an all night affair and L.A. clubs start to shut down around 2 in the morning. We’ll see how this goes.

Tomorrow is red, white and blue day at work. I think I’ll wear my red tee shirt that says “American Princess” in sparkling letters. I found it at Target for $10. I love a good sale!

I’m going to show some restraint as far as shopping goes this time around. I tend to go shopping every weekend, but this weekend is going to be different. I think.

There’s a new virtual Coach catalog and they have some hot bags coming out in July. I probably shouldn’t have signed up for their email. Whenever I get them I feel like I’m being tempted all over again.

I love shopping. Must. Show. Restraint.

On the other hand, getting a pedicure is not the same as shopping and I will be doing that today. I got my hair done tonight. I look super-duper-fly.

This random ramble is turning into nonsense. Good night.

I went to Target with my cousin tonight. Now for me, wandering the aisles of Target aimlessly is a huge mistake because I am always tempted to buy something. Good thing for me, I only had about $10 in my pocket and no credit cards. I would have probably bought the entire toy collection.

When we were younger, my dad was more into buying us educational toys than he was buying the trendy, fun toys that all the other kids had. Sure, we had Barbies and Strawberry Shortcake dolls and the like, but we had more board games and books than anything.

Walking up and down the toy aisles of Target, I saw almost every single toy I ever coveted as a youth and some that they didn’t even have when we were younger. Remember Easy Bake Ovens? It didn’t matter that a huge, hot light bulb was baking the “cakes”, I wanted one damn bad and never got one. I never got a fake stove, refrigerator and sink either, so I blame my parents for the fact that I am not at all domestic. I never really got to play at it as a child. Today’s Easy Bake Ovens look less like ovens and more like microwaves. I still want one.

They have every kind of Barbie imaginable including her unmarried, pregnant friend Midge. Barbie has a more fashionable wardrobe now and a Volkswagen Beetle instead of that classic pink corvette. Her house is more stylish and you can buy it in pieces - the bathroom complete with roman tub, the gourmet kitchen and the fabulous bedroom. She has other cars too, but my eye was drawn to the big, bright Volkswagen Beetle.

They also have these dolls called Brats. The black one is named Sasha but they call her Bunny Boo because she “likes the hipity hop”. That doll is a fashion dynamo diva and I have got to have her. Her friends are fashion divas too. I am going to buy the entire collection, rename the dolls after Tiffanny, Jaime and myself and sit them on my desk at work for people to ooh and ah about.

The best toy in the store was found near the pre-school stuff. It was a huge stuffed Nemo doll that talks! He says about four different phrases and his eyes light up. You know I have to have that.

I’ve decided that I am going to start a toy collection. No, I’m not going to play with them, but I am going to start collecting them. I will put them on display in the spare room in all their finery and I’ll be able to look at them every single day and smile. When my little cousins come over, I’ll threaten them with death if they touch them. I’ll be stingy just like I was when I was a kid.

It’s never too late to start indulging your inner child. Besides, they may be worth money some day.

I’ve decided that having writer’s block is akin to be constipated. You strain and you strain, but nothing of substance ever comes out.

Each time I sit down and try to write something, I end up opening a new window in Word and starting again. Nothing sounds the way that I want it to sound and nothing feels the way I want it to feel. I’m better off posting links to other people’s good writing until I can come up with some of my own.

In trying to write things down, I’ve come to admit some things about myself.

Number 1? I am truly a shop-a-holic. I wrote an entire piece about things that I want to buy this weekend from Coach, Lane Bryant and Steve Madden. I told Tiffanny that I had a dream about shopping in the Coach store the other night. She told me that I need a 12-step program if it’s gotten so bad I dream about shopping now. The fact that I like to shop is no secret to anyone, least of all someone who calls herself my “baby mama”.

Number 2? I need discipline. In trying to develop some sort of discipline, I wrote out a plan for tackling my new healthy lifestyle tomorrow. I plan to go to the grocery store and buy healthy foods (fruits, vegetables and whole grains). I plan to start carrying a lunch bag to work as opposed to eating at the various restaurants that surround my place of employment. I plan to go to the gym tomorrow night for the first time in months and do at least 30 minutes on the bike. I have low expectations, but you have to start somewhere.

Number 3? I need to change my attitude about work. I started to write about things that are going on at work, but then I remembered that people have gotten fired for writing disparaging remarks about co-workers so I put it in my personal journal instead.

You know, it’s really bad when you can’t think of anything good to write about.

I was standing on the corner of Venice and Western waiting for the #207 to take me towards my grandmother’s house. This was before they made all the changes to the shopping center that is on the corner. Newberry’s was still there, along with a dress shop that sold discount fashions. This was before the riots gutted out the buildings on this corner causing them to build more.

A boy came and stood beside me at the bus stop. The sun reflecting off his gleaming white Starter jacket caught my eye. He was bobbing his head to whatever beat was playing through his walkman. Every once in a while he would do a small dance move, mostly with his shoulders. He noticed me watching him and smiled. His eyes were green. He had pretty teeth. Embarrassed, I blushed and turned away. The bus was coming up the street. I started digging in my pocket for my bus pass.

The weekend was a wild mix of alcohol, lap dances, lounging by the pool in oversized chaise lounges, staying up late, going to work on 3 hours of sleep, taking long naps and watching “The Wire” twice in one night because it was that damn good.

When Jaime jumps up and starts shaking it on the dance floor, there is really no way you can stop her. She’ll shake everything she’s got (and a few things she ain’t got) to the rhythm of the music. She’ll give lap dances to the people in our group who seem like they aren’t having a good time. This is her way of getting the party started. Unfortunately, she was just too cool for the crowd.

I had a dream that I could bend my knees and go into a freestanding squat. For the longest time I’ve been unable to do that, but in my dream I could. In the dream I was conscious of the fact that the ability to perform this action was unusual for me so I kept doing it every chance I got. I purposely dropped a quarter so that I could squat down and pick it up. I squatted down beside one of my friends to talk to them.

I woke up this morning convinced that I could squat down, that it was just a matter of me doing it. I jumped out of the bed and tried it, but no success. Midway through the squat, the familiar pain shot itself through my leg down to my knees and I pulled myself back up.

I went to the poetry reading Wednesday night with Tiffanny and Ms Stella. They held it at the Elks Lodge on the west side. We didn’t know what to expect going into it (other than poetry). I came out of it feeling like I had been introduced to an entirely new vibe here in Vegas.

We met at a poetry reading. He got up and said two rhymes and then I got up and did mine about the cookie.
“Are dark chocolate cookies the only kinds of cookies you like,” he asked.

“Nope. I like cookies with big, sexy lips too.”

“Word? Let me holler at you then.”

I am going to a poetry reading tonight and I'm planning to get up and read. I wrote this piece almost two years ago. I get the same grin on my face now reading it as I had then when I was writing it.

the perfect chocolate chip cookie
We all have our own idea of what the perfect chocolate chip cookie is. Our perfect cookies may differ, but to the individual it is divine indulgence exemplified.

I have my own version of the perfect chocolate chip cookie. I want the cookie to be dark chocolate. I like regular chocolate chip cookies ... but there is something about a dark chocolate one that does it for me.

Just the color alone is beautiful in its own right. Deep, dark rich chocolate goodness. The cookie would have just the right firmness, but would be soft enough for me to sink my teeth into slowly, again and again.

The chips wouldn’t really be chips at all but big, sweet chocolate morsels that melt when my tongue touches them. I want that chocolate to dance in my mouth. I want to feel it warm inside my mouth and let my tongue roll around the gooey stickiness before I swallow it and let it leave a sweet aftertaste on my palate.

I had an opportunity to have one of these cookies, but I’d be stealing to do it.
It belonged to someone else and they only had that one. It wouldn’t be right for me to take the cookie even though I so desired it. So I coveted that cookie. I watched it every single day, staring at it and wishing that it could be mine. It seemed like the cookie wanted me to have it. After all, it was just lying there in perfect view on my desk. But it belonged to someone else. Stealing is wrong, isn’t it?

I picked the cookie up, held it to my nose and inhaled its sticky intoxicating scent. I imagined what it would be like to have this cookie for myself. I imagined the taste of it on my tongue, its texture in my mouth and the way it would feel when I had consumed my fill of it.

Then I put the cookie down and walked away.

Tiny is short - only about 5’5 or 5’6. He has a tendency to wear baggy clothing that carries the distinct odor of cigars and weed. He smokes blunts all day long. His tongue is pierced and his arms are covered in tattoos that reveal details of another chapter in his life. He is quiet spoken, not given to the usual braggadocio of male bravado. He keeps to himself.

I suppose it is the tongue ring that causes his words to come out sounding full of spit. Even without the self-inflicted speech impediment I would say he was quiet. Most times he doesn’t respond verbally when the answer is affirmative; he simply grunts a slow and drawn out “mm hmm” in agreement. He's also slow to speak when it comes to the ladies.

His fingernails are dangerously long and sharp. When he's been smoking a lot, he has the tendency to snort his nose in that way that makes you want to hand him a tissue so he can blow whatever is in there out.

He loves to get drunk. He is the only person I know that can spend hours and hours at the club and doesn't want to leave until the club is closing. His mission here on earth is to live the easiest and have the most fun.

I used to see him walking through the buildings at work. He was part of the Facilities team. In his gray and black uniform he blended in with the scenery. I became accustomed to him delivering supplies to my office, bringing me mail packages and making repairs in the building. We never said more than two words to each other. A nod here or a wave there were our only interactions. I’d see him talking with other guys that worked with me from time to time. For the most part he seemed low-key and quiet.

I had to call on him one day when the copy machine ran out of toner. He came and stood in front of my desk and I caught a whiff of something familiar. I looked at him and raised my eyebrows.

I wasn’t so sure the weekend was going to get off on a good note. On Friday I got word at work that Jaime had been involved in an automobile accident. Stop signs are there for a reason, but apparently the guy that pulled out in front of her didn’t think so. She’s going to live, but she got a good shaking up.

Qiana was reminded that she had promised to keep her nephew for the night. She would be at home with children to entertain and that left Tiffanny and I to try and salvage some of the Girl Power we had going into the weekend.

At work we both said we might beg out of the night and go home to books and movies. At six in the evening I was filled with a new ambition not to spend Friday night sitting in my house. Tiffanny called as Ms Stella and I were perusing the selection at Ashley Furniture. I told her to come join us in the shopping center so that we could venture to the shoe store together. She tried to wriggle out of it but I managed to convince her that shopping (even window shopping) was much better than sitting at home being a sour puss.

We walked up and down the aisles at DSW but didn’t see anything that jumped out at us. On top of that, Ms Stella was yelling for her dinner and we didn’t want to keep her waiting a minute longer. We decided on Macaroni Grill because it had good food and a great bar. Ms Stella had Long Island Iced Teas, Tiffanny stuck with Green Apple Martinis and I had Vanilla Coke (diet coke with vanilla Stoli).

We had dinner and girl talk. We laughed and wrote our names with the crayons that they leave on the table for you at Macaroni Grill. We watched a very creative balloon artist and ran into another friend from around the way. When dinner was over, Tiffanny and I drove Ms Stella home. Then, I took Tiffanny for her first episode over at The Spot.

These are things that have been said to me recently. Compliments or objectification?

Over at the Spot: “You got some pretty ass toes. I know what Joker tells you, but for real. They are really pretty. Can I suck your big toe?”

At a Poetry Reading: “Girl, you got some big, luscious titties. I love them. I could just rest my head here all day.” She then proceeded to rest her head on my chest.

On the street while pumping gas at the Texaco: “Damn girl, you workin’ it, ain’t you?”

Over at the Spot: “You know what I like about you? You always have your hair done and you keep yourself up. You cute Monique.”

Over at the Spot: “You got those toes done again?” “Yes.” “Come in here and let me see.” A minute later: "Mm hmm. Nothing sexier than a woman with pretty feet."

Over the phone: “You know you got the bomb. You can look at you and tell you know you got the bomb.”

Chocolate Dynamite: “You sure know the power of your pussy. It’s okay, I know it too.”

At the Mall: “You look like a diva in those sunglasses. Work it girl!”

Anonymous Email: “…I was looking at your cam page and you have sexy lips.”

“You know, there’s a way that you can give a woman a foot massage that would just drive her crazy.”

I looked at him. His face was relaxed, but serious. He looked at me and nodded his head.

“I swear. I betchu I could give you a foot massage that would make you want to take me home with you.”

“Ohhhhmigod.”

My ability to continue the conversation with him was lost and all I could do was laugh. He continued to try to convince me but I was already a lost cause.

Recently, I sat down and had a talk with two people that I work very closely with. I was able to voice my concerns about things that have been bothering me at work lately. Prior to the discussion I had been sullen and moody, but I realized it took more energy to be mad than it did to just tell them how I felt. When I was done, I listened to them express their feelings and concerns. We attempted to come to a resolution and I feel that we did. Normally, this would be the point when I would think, they aren’t going to stick to it. I now feel that whether or not everyone sticks to what they said they would do is of no concern to me. In the end I will only be held accountable for my actions and those are the only actions that I have control over. I can only control how I react to what they do. I will not let anyone get the best of me.

Sometimes the stresses of the workplace can make you forget that it’s just a job. I’ve had to remind myself of that several times this week. It’s just a job. A job that I want to do well, but a job nonetheless. It neither makes me nor defines me. It’s simply my present source of income. When all is said and done, I don’t want the main thing people remember about me to be what job I held. I want them to remember the things I said and did.

I thought I had lost my muse. For the past few days I hadn’t been able to write anything but pure drivel. Nothing was coming out and creatively, I felt stagnated.

Then I went over to the spot last night and everything changed. I was sitting there observing the things that go on, watching interactions. People were coming and going, music was blasting, deals were being made and broken. All the while I sat in the easy chair that Buster has in his room and soaked it in.

The urge to write it all down hit me like a ton of bricks. I sent Debo out to the car to get my book bag. When he brought it in, I took out my notepad and wrote for an hour. I filled five notebook pages with dialogue and observations.

Sometimes all you need is a little inspiration.

This was me all the way. Blue is my favorite color.

via wang dang doodle

I’m working on writing something about some people I know. I published it and then pulled it back because I wasn’t satisfied with the flow of the story.

My biggest problem is characterization. Even when it comes to people that I know and spend massive amounts of time with, I have a hard time making them distinct enough so that you can tell them apart just by dialogue. They all end up sounding the same.

Part of it could be that they all do sound the same to me, especially the guys. When writing about happenings at the spot I become aware of the fact that no matter who I am focusing on in the story they, could all be interchangeable when it gets down to the dialogue. I’m struggling with this.

I’m trying to work on making people’s actions and characteristics stand out on their own. There are truly some hilarious characters in my life, and they all have distinct personalities. I have to find a way to make those character traits stand out in my writing, both through dialogue and description.

What do I do?

Or, I could just call him. Which I did. And we talked. And laughed. And reminisced. And flirted. And held back.

I said what was on my mind. Admitting my true feelings was like a weight lifting off my shoulders. There were no more secrets. He didn't let his feelings and emotions be secret either. He honestly told me what was going on in his head and he didn't hold back. I respected that.

We didn't dwell on what was or what could have been. Once our feelings were made clear we lapsed into the type of conversation we used to have before everything became so convoluted and unclear.

When we said goodnight, I was laughing and grinning from ear to ear. It had been so long since a conversation between us ended that way.

It felt good.

Three of them were in my dreams last night. The one that never has any money. The one that used to make me giggle in bed. The one that hit it into the upper deck. I woke up thinking about them all this morning. And then I thought about the one who didn’t make an appearance.

He has been pervading my thoughts lately. Mostly because we haven’t spoken. I’m purposely not calling him because I know it’s what is best. We both need time to get over it. Still, I can’t help him creeping into my thoughts throughout the day.

I can’t help missing him.