Captain Obvious

I will be twenty-nine this year and since I can remember I've been super observant. This is something that I've had to grapple with because not only was I observant, I would feel the need to say what I saw. Not in a malicious way but I just thought it was fair game for conversation. Being opinionated is not a bad thing but it comes with lots of responsibility and risks. You can become a villain in a matter of syllables and by the time you've realized how your sharp your comment sounds, it has already assaulted the ear of the innocent.

You must know that it is totally fine to have an opinion, that's why God gave us cognitive ability however what is conceived in the mind might not always be beneficial if it leaves the mind. Some things are better left unsaid and their strength and novelty are based on their containment. If you have to share, make sure your timing and delivery are tactful and you are ready for the repercussions. Because even if you polish whatever you have to say and go over it to make sure there are no possible ways for it to be misinterpreted, you still can't guarantee that it won't offend.

After being put in my place repeatedly by my mom and other loved ones over the years, I've learned. that you can have gems of wisdom to hand off to someone but if you package it wrong they might as well be bricks thrown at someone's heart. You've seen how annoying bad reception can be with cell phone coverage. Ill-received messages and words can be just as bad anywhere else.

Being pregnant, I keep things light, watch a lot of comedies and make effort to literally bite my lips to keep in any loose words.  I refrain from saying a lot to avoid the hormonal label. I'm not sure why people think that saying "Oh, you're pregnant so that's why _________" is a fitting thing to say. Everybody is an OB/GYN when you get pregnant. That's good to know because when this water of mine breaks that means I have a lot of capable people that can help me get this baby here safe.

That pregnancy/hormonal comment really negates one's responsibility to be respectful of someone else's feelings and makes them seem as if they don't matter. I'm not saying you have to hold our feelings dear to your heart but don't wipe your feet on them either. I feel like the sensitivity that comes with being pregnant mixed with my opinionated nature could be a recipe for disaster at times so the safest way to communicate is...being direct but making sure my words are few. I even have to trick myself into thinking that I didn't hear certain things before my heart can process it and get in my feelings. Hence why some of my friends won't hear from me until after I deliver. It's not that I don't want to talk to you, I would love to but I'm proactive in preventing offense...so I stay away.

For example, during this pregnancy and even last pregnancy I've been called "fat and greedy". I find this quite odd. When my grandmother passed away in 2007 and I packed on a few visible pounds, no one felt the need to critique my weight gain then but the times that I'm nobly toting more weight for the sake of bringing forth life...people feel the need to state the obvious. Strange.

Okay, I haven't been "skinny" for quite some time now and that's great because I was never a fan of my body type then. I've always preferred myself with a little girth. I didn't want to walk around looking hungry but now I've seemed to have been thrust into "fat and greedy" status. Hmm. Okay. Ironically, I eat less when pregnant so this statement really puzzled me.

I don't purposefully eat less but when I really thought about it, all the things I love to consume are most of the things on the list of foods I can't have while expecting. I try to opt out of those things for more substantial choices and they tend to have more fiber thus making me full longer. In addition to that all I ever really want is juice, I'm always so thirsty and I pee every hour it seems so I don't hold on to that long.

Anyway, who said it was okay for someone to comment on a woman's weight? Even more in depth, who said that it was fitting for a man to call a pregnant woman "fat and greedy"?! Boyyyyyyyyyyyyy. That should've been taught to you right up there with looking both ways before crossing the street because comments like that will get you hit.

I don't need anyone to state the obvious to me because as I've mentioned earlier chances are I've already thought it. If it's something that pertains to me or my body image I'm willing to bet I've thought it three times over and given myself just as many reasons to be insecure about it so I really don't need anyone to help me with that.

After the person proceeded to label me I felt myself getting ready to respond but I showed restraint. Because this person is an elder and highly respected, I wanted to make sure I didn't say anything that would come off as rude even though I would've been justified in saying something snide back.

In attempt to quietly reconcile being offended I thought to myself, now what does a man go through that would make him feel terrible if someone stated the obvious in that moment/phase in his life?

I thought of a few:

1. Preparing to make love and being stopped in his tracks. What if Mr. Casanova thought he was about to get down and dirty and his equipment didn't work. His lady companion says "Ahhh geez, looks like everyone's not on board huh?" A totally natural and common experience that happens from time to time right? Yet, if someone felt the need to comment on it, they would probably be ashamed. Not cool.

2. After a losing a fight. Literally, you win some and you lose some. I've seen men defend their lady's honor and not taking into account the muscle to fat ratio of said opponent, they get their tail whooped. This is a very unfortunate situation, more so than the previous. Every lady wants to feel like her man can defend her so when he falls short in this way, it's a bit scary. What if the lady wasn't as sensitive to her man's failure and was silly enough to say "He was way bigger than you, what were you thinking?!" She know that if the guy didn't attempt to fight on her behalf she would've labeled him a punk but now she doesn't know why he even tried. The nerve. He took that risk for you boo.

3. When a man cries. I personally see nothing wrong with a man that can shed a tear. If you are crying more than me, I might be caught off guard but certain situations would be understood and I wouldn't fault you for that. Losing a loved one, a burst of overwhelming joy during a life event, or even showing vulnerability all alone with someone you trust. It is normal and necessary to get out emotion somehow. I've seen a wife criticize her husband for crying more than her at her mother's funeral. "He's supposed to be comforting me and he won't stop crying". I thought this was a bit insensitive because most guys don't really rock with their mother-in-laws that hard let alone hail them closer than their own mother. This guy was really hurt by the loss and it was genuine. I would've just been in awe that my dude really loved my mom that much and in itself that would've been comforting to me because I wasn't alone in my feelings.

4. A man with a disability or physical short-coming. If someone has an assisted device either crutches, cane, etc. They don't want someone coming up to them saying "looks like you're having a hard time getting around". Uhhhhh, probably so. If they need a device to ASSIST their movement. Men are viewed as strong and want to feel unbreakable, they don't want your pity so this is a direct hit to the core of what they are seen to be. Making such a comment would be extremely irrelevant and downright stupid.

So on behalf of all the other women full of fetus, I'm urging everyone but specifically the men to think before you speak. If someone as opinionated as me can scale back and take the time to review my comments before sharing them, I think anyone can. It would be nice if you could do the same.

Commuter Commentary

I'm sure many of you who take the time to read my blog have noticed I like to people watch. Just one of my eccentric pastimes. I'm not ashamed and thank you for humoring me.

Riding the metro for 18 years will make you an expert at people watching and more exclusively viewing your surroundings undetected. If any of you are familiar with any type of public transportation in a fairly large city, you can vouch how colorful a commute can get. So many personalities housed in one confined train car. Once your eyes get somewhat familiar with the new faces that come on the train, familiar enough to remember the color coat they have, on the combination switches up again. A new array of faces to memorize in a matter of seconds before the next train stop. It reminds me of that card game where you had a few seconds to memorize each card's position then they were turned over and you had to match them up. I used to love making a game out of trying to remember the attributes of my fellow commuters. As light-hearted as this sounds, it really wasn't for sport or fun, though it was great at passing the time away. I actually did this to be able to identify someone in event something shady went down. Theft of cell phones, purses and even shoes are common occurrences on this mode of transportation. Door open, thief out, merchandise gone, door close...and that was that. 

As I got older and wanted to make my commuter observations more challenging I started to look a little more closely at each individual's mannerisms and inclinations.  Not as means to stereotype but I guess intuition was passing the torch to observation. 

When I tell you I've rode every metro line and probably gotten off at every stop at some point, I'm serious. I started to notice patterns of the people who rode the different color lines. Ha, color lines (see what I did there?). There are distinct differences. Of course this is just my opinion, what I see is not law or to be taken and set in stone.

 For example, the red line (the oldest, first line erected). God bless those people that have to take that thing every day. I'd take the bus! Anyway, the red line is always breaking down at the most random points, usually in the middle of two stops in the tunnel. Rat central. As a result, of the inconvenience the people on the red line have the worst anxiety and are the most impatient. I've seen people jump in front of people in motorized wheelchairs to ensure a spot on the train. Really though guys? You were pressed to use your functional limbs to get on the train before them only to have to wait on the same car that will break down in five minutes. Good show impatient red-faced, red line commuter...good show.

I won't go through the all the lines but I have to mention the orange line because it is a segue into the meat and potatoes of this post (mmm, potatoes). I used to take the orange line from the end, Vienna-Fairfax/GMU to get to work in DC. I could count on it to sit at Rosslyn for a good ten minutes and I could get a solid power nap if I was sitting inside window seat away from the door. If I got on the train early enough it was quiet and my nap would last until Metro Center. All the shuffle of those people wake you up immediately. Before any of that, I'll rewind to when I first get on the train. I would smile and/or nod as to say "Hello" to whomever would attempt to sit next to me. Almost as a way to say, "Please sit, I won't bite". Even with going the extra mile to show how friendly I was. I was starting to get offended. I mean, I'm hygienic. I often smell of vanilla or mint. I have a bright smile and I check to make sure I don't have traces of my breakfast in my teeth. Why were these people fleeing from me? Maybe they weren't "fleeing" per say but sitting where they felt more suited. I'll explain...

Again this is just what I think but test it out and see for yourself.

(In order of priority/availability): We sit by...

...people we know (usually a given, if you're in mid-conversation, you'll find somewhere close to sit to continue talking or catch-up if you haven't seen them in a while
...people we are most similar to, i.e.- race and/or gender
...people who we think are attractive
...people who look like they pose the least threat

I sat down one week and wrote down the attributes of each person I sat beside on my five-day commute to compare the similarities/differences on paper. I wanted to see my own preferences. A five-day train commute, to and fro would yield about ten metro rides. I sat down eight out of the ten times. Sometimes I like to stand if I've been sitting all day, so for two days, coming home I chose to stand. For M, T, W, TH in the morning I sat beside elderly women. They varied in race. Friday morning, I sat beside an older African-American gentleman. Then the rest of the days I sat by Caucasian males that looked like they could've been my age, slightly older. All of these people looked to be dressed for success, assumed to be going to work.

When my critique of my own observation was done I looked at the preferences of my fellow commuters. I didn't sit and actually write anything down because I didn't want them to see what I wrote and think I was creepy but I looked and made mental note. Majority of African-American men sat by African-American women, most whites sat by other whites whether male or female, Hispanics didn't seem to care who that sat by. They really didn't spend a lot of time looking for options of seats when available they just took the next possible seat. Most elders sat by other older adults and if there were children/teenagers with open seats available they would stand and wait until another choice was open or just stood the duration of their ride. These were the things I saw when choices were available and there was vast selection but when seats were slim to none, a few people sat wherever but a good majority made the choice to stand.

There could be a lot of factors into play here. They might eyeball seat space and just decide to take the loss and stand to avoid lack of room. Or after a day of sitting and just want to stretch their legs. I often enjoy the sway of the train and like to stand. So if I'm not sleepy, I'm more prone to stand.

Taking all this into account, I have also noticed we steer clear of people who move a lot, take up a lot of space or are carrying a lot of baggage. Sound familiar? Our public transportation seating choices have a striking resemblance to who we choose to be near or avoid in life. Coincidence? 

Maybe. Maybe not. I could just be rambling for all we know.

...but you are curious now, aren't you?

Love,
Cam

Thoughts of February 14th from an Analytical Hopeless Romantic

Valentine's Day. Hate it or love it. Your stores will force you to respect its presence in pop culture.

The married person ends up treating it like any other day and the single person wants to be wined and dined with red balloons and whatnot. Valentine's Day is a vehicle in which people think that the grass is greener on the other side.

A commercial holiday should not be the determining factor of whether you are happy with your relationship status. Not your relationship with another person either. Your relationship with yourself. Love isn't how you feel about someone else, it starts with feelings of self that are imposed or projected by expression of feelings toward another person. I learned this once I started to analyze my Valentine's Days and learned that how I celebrated them really was a direct indicator of how I viewed myself whether single or in a relationship.

Let's go down Memory Lane, shall we? Feel free to laugh at me if you'd like. I laugh at myself so please join in.

Ever since first grade, I've dreaded Valentine's Day. Not because I was pathetic and couldn't grab the interest of anyone. That's never been an issue. Even with my bushy hair, ashen complexion and (back then) my hot pink bifocals I caught an admirer or two (I know, it's amazing to me too). It was more the pressure that came with the day that made it awkward for me. How your worth or attractiveness/love was put on a scale to be weighed. The more cards you got, the more desired you were thought to be. This would later on fuel my thought that "hotness" was measured by the number of suitors attempting to pursue you at any given point in time opposed to actually just being confident in yourself.

Remember back in the day when you passed around those Valentine's Day cards but only to your BFFs and you might have gotten bold enough to sneak one in your crush's desk/coat pocket/locker? This was before schools made you give EVERYONE a card so no one felt left out. Pansies! Or better yet, the cards were anonymous so you spent the whole day trying to figure out who liked you. Usually the creepy looks you were given while eating your snacks started the investigation. If every time you looked up there was a little fellow smiling at you, he was probably the card culprit.
...and there you have it...your "Valentine". Cute right?

Doesn't work like that once you go to middle school. It gets real. People start talking about having feelings and they actually kiss with tongue!!! I learned this the hard way because my first kiss was during class while playing truth or dare, we had a substitute (this alone makes me dread the day my daughter enrolls in school). That "kiss" was the most unromantic, nerve-wrecking thing you can think of. I literally thought we would peck and be done. Nope. When did it become customary in America to French kiss?! The only thing I wanted French was my fries. My disdain for PDA started around this time too for obvious reasons.

Then the boys started strutting around asking "Can I have a chance?" A chance at what?! Not to court me for real because neither one of us could even drive. I guess it was a chance at a small scale relationship. Whatever, I wasn't opposed to having you carry my books to class or sitting next to you at lunch. Just keep your tongue in YOUR mouth and buy me a snack from the a la carte line. For a girl who had reduced lunch ($.40 opposed to the $1 and some change some people paid according to household income), that was the equivalent of a dozen roses. Get me an iced honeybun and we're practically joined for life.

Now back to this smooching thing. It became the standard. In middle school, Valentine's Day was a great point of anxiety for me because your "boo" would want a kiss and just your luck everyone in your class would see it and whisper about it later. My fears were germs and that word would somehow get back to my Mama. Mama was the neighborhood candy lady so everybody knew where I lived and if someone wanted to be petty, they could come buy some snacks and rat me out on the low.

For that reason, I would literally time my gift-exchange at school so that in the hallway all we had was enough time to exchange gifts and the bell could ring right after so I'd have to jet to my next class.

I thought that having a "boyfriend" would make this whole Valentine's Day thing easier. Little did I know it was just pressure in another way. I was guaranteed a gift/attention from someone but so much was expected in return even at such a young age. Why can't I just get my little CVS teddy bear with attached assorted chocolates and be done with it? Doesn't work like that. If a boy gets you sweets, he wanted some sugar...which brings me to my next span of time...high school.

My high school experience described in one word was "huh?!". I learned just how naïve I was when it came to love and the like (see what I did there). In my mind, if we like each other, we should just go together. Sadly it didn't go that smoothly, hormones made everyone like everyone and just your luck the guy you liked probably liked your friend more. I can't remember how many times a guy found out I had a crush on them and when they walked over to me in the hallway they asked, "What's good with your girl _______?". Ouch. Cold little high school boy, real cold. I guess it is fitting that Valentine's Day is in February *shakes fist*.

To the decent guys worth dating, I was considered just one of the guys OR a great friend. Man, I don't want to be your friend. Buy me some chocolates or something! I even practiced that whole French kiss thing and I'll kiss you if you don't tell anyone. Can we do that? No? Okay, I'll just go back to Friendzone where it's safe.

What I didn't know is that my personality made me "safe" and in high school dudes wanted the girls that were bold and ready to take it to the next level if you catch my drift. I was proud of JUST perfecting how to kiss and you have chicks in there getting knocked up. I guess my little accomplishment wasn't much. I was too scared of my Mama and what people thought of me to get loose. I can't lie, the loose life did look fun but I left it to the professionals. My conscience talked too much maybe even more than my peers and with track practice and an accelerated academic schedule I simply didn't have the time to be whoring.

I was able to snag a guy for the majority of my high school experience though and that relationship was the biggest waste of time, especially as far as Valentine's Day was concerned. His gifts and romantic gestures were only to distract me from the fact that he was Valentine-ing all around town with other girls. Yes, I got the teddy bears and even some expensive electronics but there were no receipts for the emotional and physical scars. Valentine's Day was only one day in a year but the rest of the 364 went unaccounted for. So this made me wonder if guys thought they could treat you like crap the other days but if they had a little change in their pocket to get you a decent gift, it was enough to get off on good behavior. Valentine's Day became a romantic Yom Kippur. For my suitor, it was his day of atonement, a chance to right the wrongs of yesterday...so he thought.

My best Valentine's Day was spent eating great food, watching a comedy in a dorm room with no pressure for sex. Doesn't take much to make me happy.

It was almost a little TOO perfect. Ahh yes, of course it was. The night was cut short by my roommate who came in crying about how her Valentine's Day wasn't up-to-par, so being the sap I am I apologized to my Valentine for having to end the night and told him I'd call him later because my roommate needed me. The abruptness of that Valentine's Day was a stone in the pond to ripple and ruin the Valentine's Days to come. Following that one, they all ended up being meager attempts to be better than the last one, only to be even more terrible in the end. These dudes were up all night to get lucky and I was just trying to make love to these chocolates. Don't get it twisted, by this time I wasn't a virgin anymore and had become a little more experienced, however a good day did not equate to a great night. Takes more work than that, my vagina has standards and makes good choices.

Now I'm married and I'm back to the dinner and maybe a movie formula, which I like and actually works for me. However, Valentine's Day still doesn't go off without a hitch. I either get a migraine, diarrhea, or some other random ailment that prevents me from enjoying the day/night in full.

I believe it was the great Andre Benjamin who so eloquently professed, "Happy Valentine's Day, every day is the fourteenth". It took me observing my patterns of this day for the past twenty years and a song on The Love Below album to finally get it. If you love everyday (yourself and others) then there is no pressure to have to do it "effectively" on Valentine's Day. I've learned to love me single or attached so that no matter the significant other, the activity of celebration or caliber of gift it is still just another day.

...but to the ladies and men who can only spend the fifteenth with their "love", you might want to start asking some questions. Just saying.

Love (or like),
Cam

You Look Tired Revamped

Almost two years ago when I was in the infantile stages of blogging I wrote a post about why women hate to hear the phrase "you look tired".

I am now going on record to say that not only should you not say it to a woman but don't even think about sending an ESP message telepathically to a woman that is a new mom. Let me let you in on a secret. SHE LOOKS HOW SHE FEELS!!!

If you've ever had a death wish, just simply utter "you look tired" to a new mom. This is when stating the obvious goes terribly wrong. Not only did you feel the need to comment on the inevitable, you thought it was okay to verbally declare it to someone who was sleep deprived. You might as well call IRS and tell them you cheat on your taxes and leave your SSN before you hang up the phone.

As a new mother to a four month, two week-er, I find myself on edge quite a bit. I will admit that a good portion of that is my fault. I look for confirmation from people who are too busy critiquing to show concern or people who have no idea what I'm talking about.

Most times, I assume that because billions of women have had babies before they just know what I'm going through and are inclined to feel ever so sympathetic and possibly offer good sound support. I couldn't be more wrong. Half these women dismiss it from their mind so they can't pull from their memory bank to go back to that time when they felt that way. I think it's God's way of ensuring that we are fruitful and multiply because if anyone really remembered how crappy they felt postpartum we would all be only children or even worse, the human race would have died out a long time ago. So we are hardwired to forget the bad and retain most of the good.

I'm sure this time next year I'll probably be knocked up again and forget all about this blog post but as of right now I have to get this out.

"Old" moms so easily forget that they were once zombies treading through their house at 4am wishing for the gift of deaf to fall upon their ears because their baby has learned their true lung capacity. You would think someone would walk up and just say "I know. It gets better." and just walk away but they don't. Instead they walk up in the most scientific of tone and say things like "your baby should be sleeping through the night". Oh "should" huh? When did "should" put a guilt trip on a baby and force them to abide? "Ohhh man, you've got me. I knew better", says infant then proceeds to brush straight past REM and fall into a stage four sleep.

Is there a statute of limitations on this "should", "SHOULD" I just bank on the baby knowing that this unspoken agreement between them and sleep exists? Or put it in writing and make them sign it in drool??

I haven't quite found a solution on how to keep Nosy Nancys and Obvious Olivias away but I have found a way to make myself feel better about the situation. Like to hear it? Here it goes...

Give these people a taste of their own medicine. Since they think they are doing you a service by telling you that you look less than lovely, return the favor. Say "you look _________" and insert whatever adjective of shade you'd like. They'll see that the obvious doesn't go down so smooth. You mad??? Well I'm tired, we're even.

...and of course I must end deliciously sarcastic post with this very true and real disclaimer/declaration, I love my shrilling colicky baby, I know she doesn't mean any harm by crying and keeping her Mama up (who in turn keeps Daddy up to share in the misery). Crying is how she talks and I'm always open to communication. I'm adjusting to the Prada bags under my eyes after a long night's conversation...but until baby girl gets the sleep thing down I will wear my new accessories proudly. Hey, they go great with my stretch marks.

Til next time...probably the next sleepless night. Buh bye!

Food for thought, always room for more...

In middle school, my best friend and I had a composition book we used to pass back and forth. I still don't know to this day what made us start it but it was sooooooo much fun. We had almost every class together and saw each other at cheerleading practice then hung out outside of school. Somehow we always had something new to say. One would patiently wait and check the locker in anticipation of the most recent book drop off to respond or add our little tidbit.


The content of this book ranged from venting about a teacher we thought was insane, drooling over a cute boy, and my personal favorite; creating code names for people that were only funny to us. We'd see the person in the hallway, glance at each other and laugh hysterically. All in good fun though, we never bashed anyone just giggled. I'm more than confident this among many other silly pre-teen quirks was the reason why people thought we were so odd. Ha, the odd couple.


When we went to high school and the class options changed, we didn't have the exact same classes anymore so we didn't spend as much time together like we thought we would the years before. Our interests and class schedules guided us elsewhere. Not apart per say, but we were developing our own flair for life.


We started off both running track but then she was bit by the ROTC bug, flipping rifles, doing push-ups and other Xena Warrior Princess activity. I stuck with track and next thing we knew we both had found our "thing". Our first real thing outside of each other. A little scary but realistic. We were growing up.


In spite of the clash of our hectic schedules we always managed to find a way to meet outside of someone's class or lunch to pass our composition book to each other. We didn't share lockers anymore so we couldn't dare afford to leave the book in our locker and the person we share lockers with see our inner-most inside jokes. SECURITY BREACH!


As the years passed,  we found moments to swap the book. We went through quite a few. Only the Lord knows where all of them are now.


Once we went to college she and I stopped exchanging books. She was in College Park, I was in Fairfax and it was almost impossible to swap. No common meeting places for drop off. After that I decided to pick up my individual journal again. I had one in middle school in conjunction with our friend book but this one was for separate self-expression. It was a journal with poems, drawings, and clippings tied to memories.


I went through tons of journals. There are two that I will bury in specific spots like a time capsule only to be found by my children. I think it will be cool for them to see that their mom was human too and that more than likely everything they have felt, I have felt. Most of the books I burned so they couldn't be found because I said some pretty wild stuff, and there is one that I found a while back at my mother's house. Good thing I retrieved it. If Mama would've seen that one, she might have caught me up on some beat downs that were passed due. LOL. Just the typical teenage rage.


I read this journal before I got rid of this one. It was cool to see the changes I’ve made in life and the things I’ve overcome were a good reminder that God kept me then and He will continue to even now. Trivial things and people that seemed to weigh so heavily years ago only made me laugh when reflecting. It showed me that years, months, and even days from now a lot of the things we stress about won’t even matter. Things that seemed too hard and so impossible to overcome at that time were now only a memory to be read in a journal.

I thought about how cathartic that was. I love to blog and all but I post these things with the anticipation of someone reading them, these journals have no intended audience but me and God. 


God. 


....that's IT! I thought. The same way I chronicled my thoughts back then, I wanted to reenact that but only this time…with each thought; good, bad or indifferent I will challenge myself to find a scripture that speaks to that thought and write it down beside it. So when I do revisit these things, I’ll see how I felt about it but I’ll also remember what God said about it. It will help to keep me accountable and focused. Plus, it’s a refreshing way to study the Word.


I've also been really quiet in terms of expressing how I feel about certain things to avoid being the hormonal pregnant lady. Sometimes when pregnant, people are so quick to just chalk your concerns and gripes up as chemical imbalance when really at least 70% of these confessions are valid. But in fear of being seen as irrational, emotional, or just plain mean I've kept a lot to myself. In addition to that, I HATE when venting with select people and I'm patronized. I don't always want a pat on the back and I definitely don't want to be pacified. The baby will have enough of them should I choose to partake.


Holding on to emotion and then dumping it somewhere later on used to be a sure bet back in the day. Emotional littering; where I never got caught and fined. I always got away with it until my little passenger started riding with me. In pregnancy there is always someone who is with me (or in me I should say) that is directly affected by my moods whether I admit them out loud or not. Everything I think, feel, and eat...she knows and by way of me, she takes in. That in itself was extremely eye-opening to me, major reality check. Food for thought I called it. Hence, why this journal will bear the namesake.

 
In effort to finish out this last two months as stress-free as the previous months, I will write down my thoughts. I've been looking for new, cool ways to stay positive and encouraged. You know, put a fresh spin on life. My first entry starts today. I'll let you know how it goes.

 

Love,

Cam

 

..."fuggedaboutit"

I've always admired the Italian culture. Their good eats, the beauty and fullness of their country (according to the pics *sigh*) and the way they carry on through life just somehow knowing that things will work out.

...and if things don't, "fuggedaboutit". 

One could dispute what is dubbed the main staple of contribution from the Italian culture. Some might say pizza and I would agree that is one heck of a gift even though pizza actually originated in Greece. Anyway, if I had my pick, the most gracious contribution of the Italians by way of New York is that lovely quoted word above. 

Though it has been said in Brooklyn for years beyond possible trace of origin, the term was made popular to the rest of us in the 1997 film Donnie Brasco.

It is translated "forget about it" but can vary in meaning according to the context. The most common use is to assure you that whatever is happening or being said is not worth a second thought or glance so in response you "fuggedaboutit", erase it from your mind. 

The next meaning could simply be "hell no". For example, if that infamous favor-asker calls you to come thirty miles out your way to come pick them up, gas is about $4 and you KNOW they aren't shelling out any dollars toward the fuel fund this would be a fitting scenario to say "fuggedaboutit" and slam down the phone. 

The last known meaning is when you are actually confirming something in excitement, a no-brainer of sorts. For instance, you go in the grocery store specifically because you want ice cream. You have about $7 in cash and don't feel like hitting up the ATM to aid your sugar efforts. You prepare to go straight to the grocery store brand because you know it's always cheaper. 

...but wait! You see Ben & Jerry's has a sale 2 for $6. You can get better quality and possibly find a better variety. MAYBE EVEN YOUR FAVORITE FLAVOR!! Doesn't even matter what that store brand costs, thanks to Ben AND Jerry. You scoop those pints up like it's nothing and proceed to walk like George Jefferson to the check-out..."fuggedaboutit". 

Ahhh, what a word! Versatile and so widely understood at the same time. My kinda lingo. 

I think I'll even upgrade it from word to state of mind. 

I encourage you to do the same. 

Lord knows I have. 

Buh bye!

-Cam

I'm Pleased to Make Your Acquaintance

Okay...now you're in my state of mind so the following might serve as useful instead of typical blog banter.

This song means a lot to me because my husband actually chose it for our reception. You know the part when the wedding party comes in? He found it would be fitting to present our family/friends to this theme. The song is extremely catchy and for those 80s babies it is a reminder of hip-hop in its prime. Even more in depth, the song poses a valid question. It asks, "Friends. How many of us have them?". The question sounds easy enough. The automatic somewhat shallow answer would be "Of course I do", maybe even followed by a shrug and a smirk if you're feeling yourself that day.

...but sad to say most of us answer this question ignorantly. I know, I know. You want to know what the heck I'm talking about...follow me for a minute. Most of us mistake friends to simply be people we know. People we know are actually called acquaintances. According to Merriam-Webster, a friend is a person with whom one has a strong liking for and trust in, also a person who actively supports or favors a cause in which you are tied to. 

All these dang years we've been calling people by the wrong name. We have been using it casually and wonder why our feelings are hurt when these "friends" do not reciprocate the level of  liking or trust that we do. That's because due to our own omission we have committed an error in meaning. We simply didn't know any better. 

On Sunday, my closest friend (yes, she's been cleared for adequate friend title) and I were shooting the breeze and noticed that she and I have known each other for over half of our lives and haven't had a disagreement. We noticed that we are almost the same person in terms of value and the handling of close relationships. We have seen each other used and abused and have observed one another long enough to sit back and take notes on the dos and don'ts when approaching our friendship. Because of this, we have never had conflict within our space. I'm sure at some point we've had a difference in opinion because points of view will vary but seriously there has been no point of ambiguity or unresolved conflict in terms of argument. 

This blew my mind. Two women strong-willed, opinionated women with no conflict. I hadn't really heard of anything like this before. After hours of thought, on and off, I realized that it wasn't the lack of conflict that really fascinated me. Though it was an enigma in itself, it was when I saw that our friendship fit the definition of friendship. She has never given me a reason to question her trust, nor has she wavered in support and favor of my happiness no matter how silly the pursuit of that particular happiness may have been. For over 13 years she has always had my best interest at heart and genuinely liked me. I can say that with everything in me, I have done the same with pleasure. It was this unspoken covenant between us that has kept our friendship for all this time.

Time (one Mississippi...two Mississippi).

Now that I mention it, I noticed that a lot of emphasis is put on time in relation to friendship. I think it's awesome if you're 80 and have had a friend since you were 5. I would never take that away from anyone. Longevity is something that we lack as a society so it is something to be marveled. I just get nervous when I talk to people and then their justification for being friends with someone is "because we've known each other forever". I've heard this reasoning in romantic relationships but I won't even begin to touch that in this post. If you know me you know how I feel about that so I can skip it. If you'd like to hear my fist-shaking, gripes about it just leave me a message.

Let me just say this. I don't feel that anyone should ever slip through the cracks and snatch the title as friend. Friendship is earned. Stop being friends with people just because you've known them for a long time. Your time and emotion is worth more than that. When you hand people these unwarranted badges of honor and they disappoint you THEN you question their sincerity. Maybe you should've questioned your judgment.

Herpes is forever too but I can assure you that no one who has it takes delight in it, let alone in the sheer fact that its been around so long. Don't let people be a disease and/or parasite of your life.

Or you might look at it like hoarding. People can become a sense of comfort by way of collateral or collector's items because you want to surround yourself with something. People are not stuff and you're full of stuff if you handle people this way.

So what they've been there...but what have they done for you?! If you can't recall on one hand the times they have made your life better than they are just wasting space. Anyone can vent to you, especially over drinks...but could you call them in a life or death situation and know they would drop everything and come? Probably not. So that is a well-adjusted acquaintance, not your friend.

I don't know a lot but I have been gullible enough to know when life is holding up a neon sign over someone's head saying "Hey girl, this ain't your friend!!!" Now don't go around just slashing relationships left and right but really take the time to evaluate them. After all, that is emotion, time, and feeling that you invest and don't directly get back. However, the seed of friendship that you sow comes back indirectly in other ways and sometimes from the least likely of source. Be wise with your investments, make them work for you. Don't shell out anything you wouldn't feel comfortable losing. Ask a gambler, they'll tell you. Bet that.

Well...until next rant! Buh bye!
- Cam

Snippet of my pregnancy series...

Week 20- I can't see my vagina!!! She and I have always been able to look at each other just to let each other know we're alright and I can't see her anymore. We are so far away. :-( 

I guess that's God's way of deterring me from seeing what really happens down there when I'm pushing. I trust He knows best on that one.

 Let's see...my stomach is extremely round but still a petite basketball size, it's cute. My appetite has picked up and it is regular again. I'm at my normal level of mass consumption, yay! When my food is compromised, I'm not happy. The only thing I haven't really grown to accept about this stage in my pregnancy is these dang leg cramps. Sciatica is what my doc said. It's literally the pain in my butt. To get even more literal, it will get worse as the baby grows because the weight of the baby will press more on my sciatic nerve so my baby will continuously get on my nerves. Ha! 

I feel flutters. She favors my left side and let's me know when she hears a sound she doesn't like.

 Oh yeah...we found out we're having a girl. I could've sworn it was a boy. I'm not quite sure why but it was just a feeling. A wrong one. My instinct failed me. Oops. So I said I would be satisfied either way as long as the baby was healthy and I am. I would be lying though if I said that I wasn't the slightest bit disappointed. 

I've always been so good with boys. I've grown up with them, practically grown up as one via tomboy. I wanted my first born to be the boy. The one to protect his younger siblings, to be the head of my offspring and mirror his dad as head of the house. I know there's a 50/50 chance of having a girl so I shouldn't really be surprised. If she has my tenacity and Bill's demeanor, we should be fine. She would be a good protector, regardless of gender.

 I'm just not ready to deal with periods and heartache my first go round. I was looking more for permanently lifted toilet seats and mud collected in places the washcloth can't reach. A good ol' All-American boy but I will shift my expectations to raise a lady. I don't mind a girl.

 I always shunned girly things because I wasn't familiar with them. I fear that I'll have trouble being a lady trying to teach a girl what a lady should be. I didn't get bit with the femininity bug until I got married and that was four years ago. I have twenty-three years of catching up before I meet her in four months. Ugh I hate math and I hate dresses!!!! 

I will learn to like them. If not for me, for her. I have to be the woman I'd want her to end up as and the woman that any man would love to have so she can marry a guy like her dad. 

You know, that subconscious drive woman carry that makes us more prone to hooking up with guys that make us feel protected like daddy? In some way or another we all want to be Daddy's Little Girl. We either go looking for him or in some cases especially in our extremely liberal world, we end up trying to be him JUST to prove we did need him. 

Girls...oh boy. 

We shall see how this works. I just hope I don't fail my little princess by clouding her head with sports stats and showing proper uppercut technique. Maybe she'll be a Laila Ali, minus that freakishly deep voice. 

Why be a LeBron?

A few months back I had the pleasure of sitting in and observing one of my dear friends in her element. Ms. Jackson is a middle school teacher for one of the local county schools. She is a young professional who seeks to be in school administration after her Master’s degree is complete. She has the patience of Job, the body of a video vixen and quick wit that couldn’t be matched by a Jeopardy champion. Yes, it is true…these women STILL exist and I so happen to be friends with one. The total package if I’ve ever seen it. Growing up with her, in our high school years, she always had a certain appeal to her to make any man turn their head. I must admit I was extremely curious to see how her male students would react to her in the classroom, for that very reason. There was even one student who kept finding an excuse to touch her arm and she made sure she put him in line, reminding him that she had a MAN at home (LOL). Though easy on the eyes, she did not make anything easy to come by in terms of work ethic.

Her students were a mix of different ethnic groups and different developmental levels; some a bit ahead of the curve and others just scratching the surface. However, she treated them all the same in terms of fairness but did not baby those who just "couldn't get the answer”. Couldn’t was the operative word (or non-operative in this case), Ms. Jackson eliminated that quicker than you could type a solution on a calculator. Math is her teaching specialty and most people can attest that math was not a highlight of their middle school tenure yet, she takes a difficult subject and relates it to the easiest concepts in life. Concepts that the students would be able to attain at even such ripe ages. I can’t lie, I sat there a few times with a blank stare going “did we learn this growing up?!” These math concepts seem to get more complex as the times get harder and days get shorter but Ms. Jackson always had a situation that correlated to the current math issue at hand. From track relay time trials to grocery store trips, she made it all fit. There was a little something for everyone to relate to. I found myself applauding in my mind because I was so impressed with how swift she was in quieting any students doubt about whether the content was relevant to real life. On the low, I took a few notes. I didn’t want to sit under all that good teaching and not walk away knowing something!

It seemed as though my presence didn't waiver the realness of her approach, like she would've been just as bold had I not been there. For example, there was a point the students in her second period class became quite talkative and after giving them multiple chances to get quiet, she finally halted their audacity with a hard-hitting but relevant shift of perspective. "Most of you play a sport right?", she says. That got their attention. The majority of the class raised their hand. She followed and said "Yeah, that’s right…most of you play basketball. I know y'all like LeBron". The class confirmed with head nods and slight cheer. Then Ms. Jackson makes a turn that I didn't expect, "Well let's be honest some of you may be really good but you will never be a LeBron”. I remember my face dropping as she declared this. She went on. “How will you be able to handle millions?! Most of you will have a regular job but will still need math. Quite a bit of you have D’s in this class and your parents call up here asking why their child is failing. When I tell them it was because their child couldn't keep quiet during my class and missed information, what will you say?? Now pay attention!" Mind you, I've been out of middle school for quite some time but that indictment even registered with me. I felt her honesty and her frustration but all mixed in with tough love. That tough love that has died with the generations. That’s the love I remember back in elementary school when teachers would jack you up by your collar if it meant effective installation of fear of authority now to prevent avoidable hardships later.

Once Ms. Jackson reset the attention span of the class they looked apprehensive about having side convos during her lecture. I even put my phone away to prevent texting because I didn’t want to get in trouble either (hehe). I was proud of her.

I see so many teachers that will let students run all over them to avoid hurting feelings and will just talk in a surface way about the curriculum verbatim to steer clear of any tension from administration. No. Not Ms. Jackson. She gave life stories and quotes galore. The fact that she wasn’t afraid to share her experiences made the students more interested in everything else she had to say from that point on. Such a poignant teaching tool. She spoke with a mother’s tone but it had a familiarity where the children had no inhibitions sharing their part with her, like a big sister. They saw what I see in her. An adult, but a human, a friend and even when needed an authority figure. I think students tend to forget that teachers are human and can have different roles depending upon what the occasion calls for. They treat them as these robots and sometimes punching bags, expecting them to take all their emotion in between and just deal with it. Not the case with Ms. Jackson’s class. Her students saw her as a person and treated her as such and she didn’t mind reciprocity. About ten years ago she and I had lockers on the same hallway talking about how our teachers and coaches used to get on our nerves and now she was teaching children. It brought it full circle for me. Everything she had been through, everything she had acquired along the way wasn’t just for her use but she neatly tucked it away in her personal locker to be taken out and passed to the next student when needed. Kinda like that student that was willing to give you a number two pencil for your exam because you forgot yours. Ahhh, memories.

I guess it’s more than fitting that this scholastic observation reminds me of a book from one of my favorite rappers, Common. He hails from Chicago, as does Ms. Jackson. He wrote a memoir called “One Day It’ll All Make Sense” and sitting in that classroom, having been able to share in it and observe her life from high school ‘til now, I truly saw how life was prepping her for today. Life's lessons made her the educator that we so desperately need. The ones that our children may only see in a museum.

 

To the Ms. Jacksons in the world, thank you.

...and to anyone who ever taught me in my academic career, my bad I didn't know any better but thank you too. 0;-)

 

-Cam

 

Social Caterpillar: Social Media Sabbatical

 

To fully understand the reason for this "experiment"/case study whatchamacallit I'll give you background reasons for the birth of such an idea. Time and time again, my friends and I have debated whether social media is the biggest oxymoron to date. Facebook, MySpace, BlackPlanet (are people still on that?) are digital rolodexes that allow you to access people's lives directly. Forget the phone numbers, you can see their address history, current location, even know what music they will listen to in the next day-and-a-half based off of their current soundtrack and trends. 

 

Here's a little history. Remember a little thing called the Patriot Act, circa 2001? You know, the thing that allows Uncle Sam, John Brown, and whoever else that wants access to you to gain it without question? Yeah, they implemented that after 9/11. Sadly, most of us believe this to be a myth. A myth?! This is real life law. I could "look" suspicious or don a name that sounds of foreign origin and become target of scrutiny under the government's microscope.

 

It's strange how conspiracy theorists are scared of satellites, and ATM cameras, when really it is the information you willingly divulge that you should've guarded for dear life. Though not through a literal lens, you my dear are STILL BEING WATCHED *cue Twilight theme*.

 

Would you stand naked in front of your window at home with the blinds open, then say "Hey you! Peeping Tom! How DARE you look at me?!" No? Well then don't leave yourself vulnerable on social media networks then get mad when everyone under the sun (especially the CIA) can access your being.

 

Okay, now that I've freaked you out a bit and gotten some of your attention you'll see why this all makes sense.

 

In these days you are deemed social because of how often you check someone's page. Come on. How many times have you heard, "hit me up on Facebook" instead of "let me get your number"? I must admit, I was guilty of this. If I ran into a mere associate or "old friend" and I didn't want to be rude and just walk away with no real goal to keep in touch, I gave the Facebook option just so I wouldn't seem cold *puts head in hands*.

 

Being social used to be based on the actual effort you put into your social life. If someone was seen at all the hot spots in town or with a group of people, they were heralded "social butterflies". The number of people in your crew or clique was what set you apart from the squares and lames. The bigger the crew, the more you knew, therefore YOU were at your social peak. Now that's just overkill. Most people don't RSVP to events and forget about their invitations to social gatherings unless you send them an EVITE or create a group/event on social media. I'll tell you what...if you want me to come anywhere with you, you better call me and ask. My short-term memory is very selective and likes when you go the extra mile, it remembers better that way. ;-)

 

So after all my historical and overly critical ranting...the summary of my study! *points below*

 

 

On October 1st (ironically the beginning of the fiscal year AND the beginning of the gov't shutdown/furlough, purely coincidental) I set out to do away with Facebook, Instagram, and any other social media network for one month. Chat apps were acceptable and permissible because they required no profile page, they are limited to people in your current phone contacts and their capabilities were the equivalent to texting. For that reason I kept my GroupMe app.

 

Before leaving my pages I gave my friends the option of keeping in contact with me via phone. I posted a status on facebook and picture on Instagram that gave at least two weeks notice of my network departure.

 

The study itself technically started when notifying people of my departure. I had to note initial reactions and attitudes to my impending departure. Then as time went on without the actual network I recorded the personal effects and social effects (negative and positive) without social media.

 

I didn't do a day by day play, I tried to ignore the fact that I didn't have access to my networks for a little while. I needed to get over the initial shock of being without. You KNOW I had a whole bunch of things I wanted to say via status about the shutdown and get people's thoughts but I refrained, only venting to those who I had phone or face-to-face contact with. I shared my actual written notes throughout the study, I will have hindsight commentary after each note and then put my overall observations of the study at the end.

 

The study...or something of the like...

My exit status I posted on Facebook was something to the effect of me leaving social media to put more time into things I care about. Oddly, people who had known me longer supported the decision either by liking the status or writing their best wishes in the comment section. One friend even put "I'll miss you but I know if you're doing it, it's for good reason". Comments like that made "Oh, you'll be back!" sting less. Did people think I was THAT shallow I couldn't live without my precious digital picture book? One person even felt the need to defend themselves in my status. Hmm. My status was only notification of my future plans but this person took my choice as a slight to their conscious decision to stay on social media. "Well I stay on here to keep in touch with my loved ones and see how my friends are doing", one of my "friends" said. That "well" at the beginning of the comment was obvious rebuttal but for what? Did my choice make people uncomfortable because it forced them to look at their own reasons for keeping their personal pages? We shall see. Post Oct 1st...

 

 

DAY 10- No social media during gov't shutdown. Not planned, just happened this way. Even though my occupational info was visible on web page and all "friends" had access to see it. Not many reached out to me during furlough to see if I was affected. Only four people. These four are people I text on a weekly basis.

 

Some even thought my decision to get off of social media was rebellion as a result of the shutdown. I mean I get my activist on every now and then but please, don't give me all that credit. I'm not that much of a maverick.

 

 

DAY 15- I feel lonely. I don't "see" any of the people in my news feed and still feel like not "seeing" them on Facebook, I'm not connected to them. I don't know their thoughts, how they feel about anything. Their hang-ups, their gripes, their happy notes...nothing.

 

I treated my news feed as the morning paper. I got my current events, public opinion, and even did an unofficial poll or two when I wanted to stir things up a bit.

 

DAY 18- Receiving backlash from leaving social media. People are creating the appearance that I am "missing out" or that I'm strange for not wanting to be connected via social network. Feeling less obligation to live up to "appearances" and censor myself because no one is actively critiquing/watching/archiving.

 

When in casual convo I was asked "Have you seen it on Facebook?" or "go to my page, it's on there". I would respond "Remember, I'm not on there anymore". I would usually get a sigh or exhale in response. Some would either find whatever video/photo they were referring to on their phones/ipads or just skip the subject altogether. However, I felt more freedom in my words. My verbal seemed to hold my weight because I knew it wouldn't float in cyberspace to haunt me later on in life, just via word of mouth if I was lucky. Ha.

 

DAY 21- To go 21 days without a thing means you have overcome the habit of it. I can vouch that this is true. I went from waking up and grabbing my phone to check Facebook first in the morning to maybe picking it up midday, every few days to check my social network notifications only to remember I have none. I am slightly regaining the desire to talk on the phone. Not to be a busy body but just to hear a voice. Just don't give me anything automated!!!

 

Self-explanatory. I put my social media crackpipe down and I didn't have the withdrawal jitters anymore. Go me! :-)

 

DAY 24- People who appeared to be genuinely concerned reached out during tragic/unsettling current events. For example, there was an issue on one of the metro trains and normally I would commute and take the train but due to furlough I was home. I received a few texts from people who had given me their number before I left Facebook. Noticing the need to solely rely on newspapers and news shows to get the latest news instead of logging on. Still feeling a little lonely but no real pressure to interact with anyone outside of my immediate friendships. Conversation in passing with associates is much shorter, no references to hot topics on social media.

 

DAY 31- I don't even get the urge to type in the Facebook website. I might glance and look at my husband's if he's logged on but that's in curiosity to see if the template has changed. No desire to activate my account again. I write more. Instead of looking for a consensus in a status, I have picked up interest in creative writing again.

 

Observations Overall:

While on social media network vacation I noticed the emphasis on numbers. I would hear people say "Oh, _________ unfollowed me! That's one less person". I noticed the emphasis on numbers of likes, followers, "friends". Social media is social in its way of quantity, not quality. This is not good quality social time spent but you definitely pass the time away. This reasoning and pressure to be followed, liked, and "friend-ed" made people expendable. Friendships or people you "know" become commodities, easier to replace because they essentially become one in a number.

 

 I had more of an opportunity to hear the opinion of the "ghost-follower". I didn't ask any questions but I would hear people say "Girl, go look at her page! Did you see that mess?!" or "I accidentally liked the status and had to un-like it so he wouldn't know I was on his page". So now we can show up in people's lives and not really be there. Ha. Could this be?! Legitimized stalking *gasp*.  We look and admire behind the glass, without a trace of our presence being left as evidence. Sneaky lil things we are. We peek and peer at people without them even noticing. Or do they notice? Have YOU ever noticed when you go to your Facebook profile and you look at your "friends" section you notice a group of six people? Well, these six people are not selected at random as one may think. Before I left Facebook to begin the actual premise of the study, I picked and prodded...dissected every aspect of Facebook. I was curious to know the inner workings. I talked to digital technicians who write algorithms like we inhale oxygen, effortlessly. One of them told me that this selected six people are chosen according to who you just interacted with, who was just on your page and whose page you frequent which means Facebook records the activity and creates a formula accordingly so their profile pictures will pop up in different picture slots. This made a lot of sense to me. I would wonder why people I haven't communicated with in ages would "randomly" pop on my page. They were ghost-following. I also talked to a good friend who also happens to be a government worker that was not furloughed during my study (lucky bum) who told me that Facebook is indeed used to confirm or deny character references for employment. So all my militant folks who swear that when entities outside of your friendslist and networks view your page it is an invasion of privacy, you might want to rethink your claim. Your Facebook page is not yours, it is public record and privy to archive by government agencies. You borrow that space to post your pictures and words. Though it is free to have a profile with them, it definitely costs you. Put up a questionable, anti-American phrase and see how quickly you lose your security clearance. I'm not making this stuff up. If it were not for anonymity during this "study" I would and could give you a legit name of a person that lost their GS-12 job because he and his friends wanted to re-inact scenes from the movie Hangover and post it for the world to see. Where is he now? Speaking out against lack of privacy on social media networks and exposes the truth within. Funny how activism is bred after we are victimized.

 

I didn't do this study to scare anyone, not to deter anyone from enjoying their life in HD but I urge you to really ask yourself why you are a member of social media. If you have valid answers and feel that it adds to your life, good for you. Put a gold star right smack in the middle of your forehead. If for some reason and by some chance you realize you have not a clue as to why you're on social media, delete and log-out.

I can say that I've always wanted to delve into this topic to look at the reasoning for social media's hold on so many people and why at one point and time I thought I couldn't live without a profile page. Well guess what. I'm livin'. 

 

Thanks for reading this ridiculously long article/case study/experiment/blog/rant thingy. Now back to your regularly scheduled social networking.

 

-Cam

 

 

 

 

Ban who?? Bantu.

Let me just say that I'm not posting on this because the natural hair movement is hot right now. For people like myself that have always been natural, it's a breath of fresh air but I'm not posting to cater to a trend. Only to share info.

 

I can say that this push for natural hair has heightened aesthetic creativity and has made more styles/products available to people like myself.  YAY! There was a time that natural girls only had the press and curl.

...and some will debate you on whether you can still be called natural and use heat but I digress.

 

 

Behold, Le Bantu Knot/Twist:

 

*I did this on dry hair, wet hair makes the curls draw up a little more and I was going for an elongated curl*

1. Section off hair either in four squares or eight depending upon how full and curly you want your hair to be.

2. Apply a small amount of THIS

(or any other mousse/setting lotion of your choice) into your hands

3. Repeat the same as above with product from photo 2.

4. Two-strand twist, then twist hair into knot.

5. Stick bobbi pin in for hold.

 

...and you're done!

 

*please excuse my long chin and dry expression* :-p

 

I did this last night while watching tv, put a bandana on it then went to sleep. In the morning, I untwisted my hair. My hair would've curled better if the mousse had proper time to dry but I did this almost close to midnight and woke up at 5am. However, if you do yours earlier in the evening and sleep longer than I did (haha) then the mousse will have more time to do its job.

 

Try it and tell me how you like it!

<3 Cam

Not your boyfriend...

Attention female friends:

 

I think there is some confusion here. Some of you talk to me and try to handle our friendship as if I were your dude. Let me help you out.

...I'm not. I am your FEMALE FRIEND. Therefore you cannot get in your feelings when I do/don’t do the following:

 

1.     Don't tell you ALL my plans. I don’t belong to you. I don’t owe you any type of explanation as to who I’m with and where I’m going. Whatever I share with you is privileged. If you see me in an IG or FB pic with another friend, don’t text me talkin’ bout “Oh, looks like y’all had fun”. What that really means is “Oh B*&$%, I know you didn’t just go to (insert location) with (insert other friend) and didn’t ask me though!!!” Don’t forget I know you, so I know what your sayings REALLY mean.  

2.     Don’t drop ALL my plans for you. I have a life and 80% of the time, yes, if my husband needs me, then I’m going to go with him or do whatever he requires. Don’t try to put me on the guilt trip for something I’m supposed to do. If you are my friend, you were there on 10/10/10 when I made these vows so don’t act surprised now. If you weren’t there then shame on you.

3.     Don’t feed your ego. That’s what the dudes are for I guess. They are supposed to shower you with all that cute mushy stuff and then seal it with the “D”. Don’t come around here fishing for compliments, you’ll get your feelings hurt every time. Now I’m comfortable with myself and am secure enough to pay compliments when I feel they are due and warranted. Just don’t stand on my forehead and ask me if I like your red bottoms.

4.     Keep quiet when you’re wrong. I’ve done that enough when I was a child and I don’t think I’m reverting back anytime soon. Now I have no problem trying to be as diplomatic as possible but the truth is the truth. The WMATA metro slogan says “See it, say it” right? Well, I’ll admit that I’m a product of my environment in that aspect. I’ve been riding the metro all my life and I feel like that slogan has resonated with me. If I see something I’m calling it out. Why? Because I’d rather spot it and keep you safe only to find out it’s just a bag than to keep ignore it and find out it’s a bomb. See what I did there? I invite you to do the same with me. I welcome it, honestly.

5.     Sugarcoating. Yeah soooooo, my husband is the baker (Shout out to BILLY BAKES LLC…don’t judge me, just buy cake). He has a way of just making life a little bit more palpable. That’s probably why God paired us up. He’s the sweet, introspective and patient one. I am not. I married a man that balances me out…and you should do the same. Don’t look for your me or other female friends to solely do that for you. I was not made to be your counterpart and I was not made to make you feel comfortable. I am your friend, I was made to make you better. Real friendships do that. We’re not always going to giggle and dance. We will cry and yell (Together and/or at each other), and you must understand that it’s all in a day’s work. Well a life’s work really. Just know that through it all I do love you. I promise I do. I can also promise that 99% of the time I wasn’t trying to be mean. If I’m blunt with you that means I care. When I don’t care, I say nothing at all. You should know I don’t like to waste words.

6.     Don’t have much to say to you. That does sound kind of mean. Hear me out though. It’s no slight to you. A lot of times I’m going through my own quiet storm and if I know I’m not in the mood or right head space to communicate with you effectively or respectfully then I’ll fall back. I love you enough to prevent offending you. There will be times I do it and I won’t catch it and I apologize but if I’m within my power to spare our friendship from hits…I will. My silence is my dozen yellow roses.

I listed all this to basically say that you cannot hold me to a standard that I was not made to carry out. I understand you want affection, attention, and all that cute stuff. I know because I’m a chick and I want all that too…but when you lack those things, don’t come to me to give it to you. You’ll set me up for failure and just get in your feelings. That’s what your man is for. He can better provide those things. I want those things for you and what I listed might help you to get the fortitude to go to him to get what you want.

 

No hard feelings,

Cam <3

Pay Homage

 

 

The mixtape that is currently king in my earphones,

 hands down is Pay Homage by VA Pete.

 

I'm big on instrumental selection for mixtapes.

It's easy to pick the instrumental or sound that is current and that every other rapper is using on their tapes but VA Pete has chosen the songs that successfully highlight the intensity he achieves in his lyrics and tone.

 

He brings rap back to a time where hip-hop and rap were two different entities and you could dicipher the two. (Yes, there is a difference.)

 

Though a self-proclaimed hip-hop head, there are times I want to listen to rap.

Just raw bars full of emotion and hunger.

 

For those post-80s babies who swear that what they hear on the radio is rap and think they hear bars, they should listen to this and re-assess their opinion of genre.

Click the link at the top, get back to me and tell me what you think.