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Bloggers. Please.

Friday, November 28, 2008 2:19 pm

Can we pretend
That from now on
There is no
yesterday

Bill Withers -  Can We Pretend

The last few days have been…

Eventful.

And that is putting it lightly.

Nothing like a few shakes from life to remind you that you are living!

Anyway. I am doing well.

And for those who know me, I got to see Jose for a split second in NYC last week.  Good Stuff!

Things are good.

But I am returning with a b!tch to pitch:

I don’t like when I am away from my RSS reader and come back to realize that I have over 200 unread items and most of them are fluff.

Writers.  Bloggers.  Please.  Save your crappy blogs in your drafts for later editing.

If I am out of line or being a B-word on this one. Sue me.

Come on people.  Let’s not make the blog-o-sphere like the damn BET awards, full of purpose but infected with nonsensical, melodramatic, meaningless chatter.  I don’t want to read about your 15 panty changes or how many cats crossed your path as you strolled into work.  I also hate to see when one blogger blogs about something, lets say party promoters, and then there are 20 other blogs on that same topic indirectly in the next 3 days.

Boo.

Hiss.

Tomatoes.

Maybe I just need to diversify my RSS feeds.

Just a suggestion if you care to retain a reader: If you don’t have anything to write about, for Pete’s sake, just don’t blog.

Twitter.

Change your Facebook status.

Update your mood on Myspace.

Just something, other than blogging.

I try not to give the internet garbage to collect on me, and well - you, (and you know who you are), should consider adopting the same philosophy.  Reading blogs should be stimulating, not just another task that makes my damn ears bleed.

/rant

BTW, anyone seen or heard from Don?  Like phone calls, emails, anything.

Later,

B.

Oh, and Happy Belated Rape and Pillage day!

The Real, ignit, writing| Comments (7) »

Carats

Friday, November 14, 2008 10:03 pm

I can breathe you
I can drink in your laugh, I can
l can live on your smile
I can trip and but if I can fall into your arms
I can stay there my whole life

Amel Larrieux - For Real

Let me preface this blog with a couple relevant things: I am not married or engaged. I am not sure that I am even marriage material, so this is not me speaking from a position of authority. It’s just my un-wed, non-engaged perspective.

I don’t give a shit about how many Carats a ring is. I think the over-zealous wedding rings look tacky especially considering that the marriages aren’t usually worth the vows they’re spoken on.

In fact, I generally feel that people have gotten away from the whole intention behind choosing to spend the rest of your life with someone and shredded it down to a party, a couple rings and upholding an image.

If that’s what they are selling, I’m straight.

I can take care of myself.

I’m not looking for a man to decorate my finger. My garage. Triple my living space or none of that. At the end of the day, I want someone who likes me more than he loves me, (of course he must love me to death too).

Not how I look or that I have 2 over priced degrees, can successfully construct a sentence and hold down a job.

Me.

The woman who has guardianship of her younger sister and pulls it off for both of us on a single persons salary.

The woman who wants more than anything to be a successful writer.

The woman who will skydive, can’t live without music and believes she will see most of the inhabited world before she dies.

The woman who will inconvenience herself for a friend.

Me.
The conversationalist.
The lover.
The writer.
The music enthusiast.

I don’t want the carats. I want the companion. A simple band will suffice thank-you.
Maybe even have it engraved, if he wants to be fancy.
I would do an eternity band… Within reason, and no conflict Diamonds please.

Then again, I have never been materialistic.
Shit, I don’t even like to shop.
Except for shoes. I have to avoid the shoe stores, lol.

Money is nice.
Sometimes.

Love. Compatibility. Conversation.
Those are nice all the time.

For real.

B.

Love, The Real, filthy lucre, happiness, relationships| Comments (15) »

On: Dating

Tuesday, November 11, 2008 10:35 pm

So many people, so much energy and drama just trying to find someone who’s almost never the right person anyway. It just… shouldn’t be so hard. …
-Dr. Lisa Cuddy (House MD, Act Your Age)

My. Sentiments. Exactly.

Dating is at the very bottom of my list of shit to do.

I just feel like there are so many other elements to my life that I have so much more decision making power over that I would rather fondle those things than go catapulting my emotions into some cat that’s probably the wrong guy for me anyway.

I can fixate on my somewhat non-existent life as a writer or shedding this extra 20 pounds I have been griping about for the last two years. I can even stop procrastinating on editing projects and returning the phone calls of friends whom I love dearly, that tolerate my poor follow up.

I don’t feel like re-training a guy on the stuff I like and don’t like.

Yes. I said train. You go through training at work to learn to do your job don’t you? Well in case you hadn’t heard, a relationship is work.

Another reason I don’t feel like it now.

I got other shit to work on.

*sigh.

But a big part of me keeps telling me I am in my (late) twenties and I am supposed to be dating. I am supposed to be getting to know people.

Fuck “supposed to.”

Effective immediately. “Want to” takes precedence over anything I am “supposed to” be doing.

/Rant.

B.

men| Comments (16) »