Unconditional love. Is it possible within a romantic relationship? That was one of the many topics discussed while I was eating my bagel on the way to work. Oh yeah, by the way, the conversation was with myself.

I have aspirations of marriage. no, it isn’t my sole goal… it really isn’t even a must but I think I would like the idea of a family waiting for me to cook dinner, help the kiddies with their biology project, assist my husband with his journal entries, enjoy family outings on the weekends, vacation for four… you know, shit like that. Sine qua non, what a marriage should incorporate. Now, before the thoughts of ‘well you can have that without being married’ resontae, I want to state that I've been there, done that, it ain’t for me. Just aint. Period. Even more so now. I have a child…. A child who I’m 100% responsible for. I’m not going to just live with someone all willy nilly risking the well being of my child and my physical freedom because if someone touch mine, I swear fo lawd… Funny how we value ourselves more when we add something on to it. A degree, a fancy car, a condo…. a child. Okay, maybe a child is different, but point is, we don’t value the principle until there is some return. Another been there, done that. I’m not insane therefore I do not do the same thing over again while expecting a different result….no more shacking! Aside from that, can I actually live with someone else in which I don’t really have to? I don’t have to live with Grant but there is something in the law called reckless endangerment of a minor. In addition, there is this unconditional love I have for him. Which bought me to the topic of contention, can we love unconditionally romantically? It is a question, actually…. The 19 voices that live within my head have yet to come to an agreement.

jimmy choo's

I have a penchant for cute shoes. Cute brown sling backs with rounded toe shoes. I saw some cute jimmy choos… but I don’t have jimmy choo money… I have enzo, nine west money though. Money is tight in the epi household. I’m grossly underpaid grossly overworked and I have picked up a few projects all in effort to make this deal a little sweeter when I sell it to my next employer. How is that coming along? … It’s not. I have been on the grind for about four months now looking for another gig…either one of three things are the results of my pursuit…. 1) they aren’t offering enough money for my self -determined worth 2) crazy hours with up to 25% travel (I’m a single parent, this ain’t gonna happen) or 3) supervisory experience in which I have none of. I say this to say that in about a year, I will be moving to another state, preferably GA or SC. The ghettos of New York City are becoming unbearable, real estate is already bananas, the rat race is becoming more sadistic and I have a child. A black male child. The ghetto is waiting, salivating to eat him alive. The gangs here are helter skelter… I’m just waiting to open my apartment door only to see a dead body propped against it. He will have all the opportunity in the world to face adversity without me putting him directly in the mix and I owe it to him to show him there are other ways to live… not cramped up in a 500 square foot two bedroom apartment in which I can barely afford because the rent is 2000 for a corner apartment in the middle of a c.rip/b.lood war zone. And I want some brown sling backs with rounded toes when the moment befits me. Some jimmy choos if I want.

On other fronts, things with Stick are going well. (Stick is the bf’s alias). I had to yam in his ear about recent events… read: his damn slacking. Like Maleike said, the tone must be set from the very beginning… but it bothers me none to whip a nicca into shape. If I must remind you, in every conversation, of my worth and options, that is what I will do. I don’t think this is even a little bit extreme because if I do not tell him, he will never know. Men love to claim oblivion as their next of kin. Communication (not to be confused with nagging) is key. Now, if I think my mentions aren’t being valued and respected, then we both can resign from the relationship. Life is too short to be purposefully unhappy.

“The foolish man seeks happiness in the distance, the wise grows it under his feet.”
James Oppenheim
Holla, Mr. Oppenheim.

Me thinks lady doth (not) protest too much

side ish: TGIF. I just decided to buy an insurance policy for myself...a 'just in case' my ass dies in the streets of NY. I live in the Bronx on Killer Avenue between Lite ‘Em Up Lane and Buck ‘Em Down Blvd so I think this was a good idea. It would be funnier if it wasn't true.

So, let me pop my collar. * polyester popping in the background * I have successfully matched another adorable, loving couple… my god given talent is match making,… yall didn’t know. Here is how it works: I meet with a potential, and listen. No conversation, no mingling, just plain ole listening. Old adage ‘give a man enough rope, he will hang himself’. But can you tell me this, why hasn’t the favor been returned? I have been on the worse blind dates that i could really cry right now.... like while writing this blog. So bad, I asked the match maker, 'do you not like me?! What have I done to you for you to subject me to such torment?' ummm to be upfront I’m not single, but the notion is looking plenty pleasing to me. Let me pour my heart out a little… now, silence is a text easy to misread…. Not my quote but follow along. Men tend to sleep on me… meaning, they get comfortable, relaxed, complacent… tending to think they ‘got it like that’. I don’t ask for more than emotional support, even sex is negotiable (and that is a grave compromise on my end.) You don’t have to ball or even bounce to be with me, just make sure your ass is employed with your own damn cash and we are in cahoots. if I have to ask you to buy me shit and take me places, then why am I really with you? I can treat myself like how I want to be treated. I dine and wine myself. I go to the movies by myself. I even vacation alone. In summary, I really don’t need anyone to do these things for/with me. It is a conscious, oftentimes regrettable, choice to dine, vacation with another. You have those few who think that my low-maintenance ass is one to steal on. I’m willing to let him run amuck, living it up like the fat cat. Give a man enough rope he will hang himself. How many slum bastids have been left holding their bags and picking their faces up off the floor? I will tell you, a good effing number of them. When things were brand new and neither one of us could do no wrong, boy was he floating his ass around like a butterfly… but as soon as he see that he doesn’t ‘need’ to shell out quality (funds, time, effort) to remain in my company, a lump on a log is what he becomes. Perhaps I am the enabler and it is my damn fault…. But funk that, … the ‘emancipation of epi’… changes are a coming…. I guess you all know who I’m talking about so insert name where appropriate.

Happy weekend!

My ma. Momma… mother… MA!!! (When she acts like she can’t damnit hear.) This woman is the quintessential essential. Now, before I begin to speak about Ida Mae, I have to thank God for all that I’m able to say about this woman and for him given me the opportunity, the ablity the patience, and the long awaited time to NOW appreciate all that she has done for me.

Now, back to ms. Ida mae. Now, ms. Ida mae raised two daughters of her own, me being the second. My first memory of Ida was her kneeling down to my level and explaining to me that that day was my birthday. I was three years old. I remember thinking to myself 'so what, ma?" I guess in my three year old mind, I couldn't grasp the importance of such date... but best believe now i do. Anyway, I always knew my mother as the caretaker, the nurturer and for the longest time, I thought that this was her government appointed job, this is what she was SUPPOSE to do. She was suppose to praise my receiving a 100% on my spelling test, she was obligated to beat my ass when I got caught chewing gum in class when I wasn’t suppose to and her rightful duty to clean up my cuts and bruises received from scraping on the block while giving me a good scolding about fighting once again,.... ‘bo, you ain’t no boy. Stop all of that damn fightin’”. It was when I was having problems with my upstairs neighbors while living in Brooklyn that it dawned on me. I was walking with my mom from my apartment building to the train station and we were talking about me writing another letter to the landlord. She said something under her breath and I can’t recall at the moment what was said but I remember saying to her, ‘I’m not worried about them.’ She said to me ‘bo, even though you are grown, that doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you. You are still my child’ (dabbing away the tears). It wasn’t like I never thought my mother worried about me, but I guess it was when it was vocalized, when she actually expressed with her own mouth her worries that I knew and understood her being my mom wasn’t her job, that her being my disciplinary wasn’t her appointed duty, that her being my on-call doctor wasn’t her responsibility. Her loving, her caring, her devotion…all of it…it was all her privilege, her honor. I love Ida Mae. I credit her for everything I am…with everything I am not. I am glad for every argument that we have had for I am pretty sure, in her absence, I was made to suffer a hard learn lesson that I wouldn’t allow her to teach me anyway. She was and still is the benchmark…. And I think I turned out pretty damn well. This is your day, Ms. Ida Mae…. I love you more than in all of the days in my life I would be able to express. You have shown me that blessings aren’t only in a child, but also in the parent.

I love you, ma.

Love, bo

I think someone possibly posted about this before… when you are riding on the train (or chilling in a public place) and you look up only to see some one is staring you dead in your grill and when that eye contact is made, they neither wink nor divert, just continue to stare. For some reason, ish like that just irks the hell out of me…. Isn’t staring still impolite or did that rule change recently and someone throw away the memo before I got a look/see? So commence the battle of the stare down…. I’m gonna stare the hell out of you before this train ride is over heffa, best believe. Too bad she got off at 86th street, hence the stare down was a draw. Umph. *I’ll beat that bitch wit a bat * and they say new yorkers are confrontational...

My mother should be back to work in about month tops. She has a few leads and before she makes anything definite, she wants to make sure it is worth it. I’m like, hell nah it ain’t worth it. Staying at home with G diddy, minding him while I’m at work is worth it. But then she mentioned having to pay the rent.. my ass was like the whisper song… ‘Wait’. Speaking of which, Baby G is six months today…. What is more amazing, especially after last night’s fiasco, is that his little round, fat, flat face is still alive. He cried until three o’clock this morning… so, yours truly has had only 3 hours of sleep. Guess how I’m feeling? If you guessed pissed, peeved, disgruntled and a tad bit homicidal, you have guessed right. What have they won, Bob? Nothing at all, Jack! But every time I look at that same little round fat flat face, I can’t believe something so wonderful and beautiful and loving and God-inspiring came from me. Things are good.

The code as been broken… I now know why baddy has been coming around more often… if a bastid finds out another bastid is hollering at you, all of a sudden that bastid wants to holler too. I’m like, easy bastid…pump dem brakes, bastid! He asked me what I was doing when it came to dating. I told him, I’m talking to a number of people… you know… here and there, a little of everywhere. He didn’t like that answer…. I’m like well I didn’t like your question. Men. I really hate them sometimes.

Sidenote:
I was just on Cos’s site, (every time I visit her site, why does Ciara’s ‘Oh’ play loud and clear in the background? ‘Down here we ride sloooooowww.’) I really like her writing style…nonjudgemental, nonoffensive open honest style of writing. Anyway, like I was saying to her in regards to her ‘Get OUR( not just yours) ish together’ post, I am a proud banker at INGDirect... their savings rate is usually above 2% but does fluctuate but regardless, it is always at least twice the rate in which you can received at any other commercial bank. Don’t bothering wasting your time with commercial savings account…. They are only good for checking purposes. ING also have a very good CD purchasing option. No fees and no fuss… just buy it and let it sit there. I have opened several cd’s (actually a cd per month) for baby G all to mature in five years and then reinvest until he becomes primary owner and then he can do as he pleases (except to blow my hard earned money which at that point, I might have to commence to whipping his ass). My purpose is to have a stash for G for when he comes into his own so he doesn’t have to lease a car or rent an apartment. If he wants to, he will have the cash to make a down payment on a condo/house or buy that car right off the lot. I don’t want him in the ‘struggle’. ‘Bo did that so hopefully hewouldn’t have to go through that.’ Even though this savings plan is killing… like literally reacking havoc on my pockets, I know it will be worth it in the end. (btw, now is the time to invest in INGDirect… NYSE: ING) Each one, teach one....