Okay so today I got news that the one who broke my heart by mind fucking me and me letting him is actually still alive and out there and dating a girl that was in a play of mine along time ago directed by his best friend. I know, you’re confused. Stay with me.
This is not about him or the relationship or anything of the sort because that’s the past and what is the past really except for something that ended. Sort of like the after taste you have after a meal. You know it’s there by it’s essence but there is nothing tangible that you can touch anymore.
The breakthrough is that I realized I am not the person I once was. Right, some of you are like, “Duh” but really, hear me out. For a long time He was able to come back into my life, do some gymnastics on my psyche and leave me all messed up in the head. And then no relationship I ever had worked out because I was all messed up in the head (among other reasons—like none of those dudes was right for me). Let’s call He the Great Whodini (I know it’s spelled differently but if you’re a rap fan, you’ll get the irony). Whodini broke up with me using a mathematical equation. And then would say things like “You don’t know how close you became to being my girlfriend” or “What if I told you I didn’t like you as much as I used to?” Now, that’s all me for staying around and hearing the last part of the sentence. But given my psychological history stemming from my parents, I stayed and listened and felt like Julia Roberts from “Sleeping With The Enemy” except the there were good times and I was addicted to good times with Whodini. Because when Whodini was happy, the world was a nice shade of lovely.
It can best be described like in the movie “Cat On A Hot Tin Roof” (Tennessee William’s best play to date and, though the movie is different in some themes, the best quoted movie of my life time next to “Mo Better Blues”). Brigg, played by Paul Newman, tells Big Daddy, played by Burl Ives, that he drinks until he hears the click. Well, I cowtowed and stressed for Whodini until I heard the click, which came in the shape of his smile, his deep voice giving me permission to be who I was, blah blah…(remember this is some raw emotion I’m giving you! I am not proud of all of this but it has gotten me where I am).
Whodini came and went in and out of my life for years. Years. Just when I’d think it was the last time, I’d get a call. Or a letter. Or a random sighting. And there we’d go again. Only last time, after the chaotic relationship with my friend that I wrote about before, Whodini comforted me and then disappeared. For good. Then I met Yaze. And I didn’t need a click anymore. Not from Whodini. The need for the click is slowing morphing into something more healthy. I’m not sure what it is but it doesn’t rely on anyone giving me permission to be who I am. I just am. Standing here trying to figure out life as much as anyone else. I know what I work hard for and what I don’t. I know when my intentions are pure and when they aren’t. And I know when I’m giving someone too many liberties in my own life to guide as if they know me better than me. They don’t.
This breakthrough of sorts comes at a particularly wonderful time. Last night, watching Yaze’s sleeping back, I feel asleep talking to my father. I reiterated, as I usually do, that I loved him and that he saved me from a life probably less than what I was destined for. I told him that I wish I was talking to him and not the air and that I hope there really is a life after all of this because I want the best for him in the afterlife since he couldn’t be here to hold my first child, give me away at my wedding, sit with me on the porch of my first house. I told him he has given me faith because to think of him just in the ground isn’t enough for me. I must have a spiritual joy to serve. And my father would be the best joy there could be.
After that is when I got the text from my dear friend that she saw Whodini. And I felt light headed. And happy. Like some cheesy self-imposed heavy burden flew off my back.
This is me, waving goodbye to it. So long, Whodini. In honor of you, I just want you to know that I learned what love is, and I realize that’s not at all what we had.
Maybe I’ll do a mini:
Phil Collins is the latest to love Chocolate
This is from Pagesix.com today:
June 22, 2006 — AGAINST all odds, rocker Phil Collins has fallen in love with Ch. 2 anchorwoman Dana Tyler just weeks after splitting from his third wife, Orianne.
Tyler brought the former Genesis drummer and lead vocalist to the WCBS-TV studios on Tuesday night between the 6 p.m. and 11 p.m. newscasts and introduced him to her co-workers.
“She’s beaming,” one colleague told Page Six. “This is the happiest I’ve seen her.”
The two met when Tyler interviewed Collins before the May 10 Broadway opening of “Tarzan,” which featured several of Collins’ songs, including the hit, “You’ll Be in My Heart,” from the 1999 Disney movie.
“They’ve been keeping it quiet for sev- eral weeks, but it’s out now that she’s shown him around the studio,” said our source.
Tyler, who won a N.Y. Association of Black Journalists Award for her reporting on the Broadway staging of “The Color Purple,” has been with the station for more than 15 years. She was previously married.
Jodeci is Back…I’m not sure back to where but they’re back around
Dude, is it just me or do they look like they’ve been serving some time?? Member when Devante was sexy? Remember when Mr. Dalvin was cute but was the mercy group member because all he did was hop around behind the other ones? Remember when KCi and JoJo were the not cute ones but who could sing their asses off?
Except now they are connected to our girl Hoopz forever! How did she get out of Dearborn jail to shoot this so fast?
Feel the Heat!
I’ve been a Miam-Alonzo Mourning fan since he was at Georgetown. And so I have to post the picture below in honor of my celebrity crush (Yaze knows, don’t worry) and his team’s victory. My question is this: Why can’t Shaq let go of the trophy? He’s got four of them! Let the newbies run things, Selfish.
(Blooger still won’t let me upload photos!)
Diddy disses Lindsay
I mean somebody has to. This girl gets WAY too much attention! All her movies blow. Her nail polish looks like she’s been digging holes in the ground. She has my grandpa’s Pall Mall voice. We just need to stop talking about her. And I will. After this.
Diddy was really mean to her.” When asked about what happened, a spokesman for Diddy’s camp said: “Lindsay was being so loud and obnoxious. His security became concerned and came over to escort her away.” Source
Not sure she’s familiar with being escorted away, Diddy-style. He may not be super ‘hood hard but he is Hollywood hood hard and that’s way harder than any joker Lindsay Lohan will get mixed up with.
That website is literally one of the funniest fashion commentaries out there. Given their recent shout out in Vanity Fair though, I’m feeling like they’ll get so busy that they won’t be able to catch everything. Like Sienna below.
(Effin Blogger no photos)
Okay so I got the whole boho thing for a second. It’s brought many a close friend over to the vintage side (why should clothes be discarded like a pair of old jeans—wait that’s what they are). However Sienna is still young, in what-movie-has-she-been-in-again sort of way. She doesn’t know everything (including on how to pick a mate or movie). The boho thing was obviously some sort of astrological planetary mishap. Because now she dresses like Keisha the Crackhead. You don’t get a pass because you’re a vanilla girl, Sienna. You dress like a crackhead. Thank you.
Whitney…remember when that was a good name for a cute little girl?
Um, so Whitney was spotted at church. And she’s apparently clean. According to A Socialite’s Life, Cherelle (“Saturday Love”—AND Pebbles’s cousin—runs in the family I guess) is “Whitney’s Best Friend” and is telling us why Whitney is all jacked up.
Cherelle (Whitney’s best friend) admits Houston was upset by recent tabloid claims about her drug habit made by sister-in-law Tina Brown that were accompanied by photographs of the singer’s reported squalid drug den. Houston’s pal claims some of the allegations Brown made were true, but the picture was nothing more than a shot of a messy bathroom. Cherelle says, “I told Nippy (Houston’s nickname), I was being honest with her: ‘Some of the things (Tina) did say in there (article) were true - not true in a drug form, but yes, you are sloppy! Yes, you are messy - not only in the bathroom, but period.’” Cherelle goes on to explain that Houston’s inability to keep a tidy home comes from years of having aides to fetch and carry everything for her. She adds, “She was just 18-years-old when she had a hit record… It’s out of habit, her dropping stuff down. Now I’m like, ‘You’re 43-years-old, n**ger. Pick that up! I’m not picking up behind you.’
A couple of things. One, they are obviously “best friends” as in the Brokeback Mountain tribe of “best friends.” Two, when did Cherelle get ghetto? Three, most of my friends who come from the church, get a lot of money and then smoke it up in crack pipe have a DEVIL of a time picking up used toilet paper, old beer cans and ashtrays.
People! A hundred years ago, we just got out of slavery! Up until about forty something years ago, there were folks who had overseer marks on their backs. You mean to tell me this fool can’t clean her own damn ass? I’m mad now. Sixty years ago, there were people being rescued from concentration camps. Forty years ago, there were people who were living in share cropping cabins (their descendants are still there by the way). Whitney, you get no sympathy from me.
He She Girl Bands are Hot
Well, there’s this group:
(Insert Pussy Cat Dolls photo here–oh wait, I can’t…effin Blogger)
And then this one:
(Insert Danity…you get my point)
I’m convinced “Danity Kane” is some reference to Vanity Six and Big Daddy Kane. Convinced. It would make sense. If you push the two together, you would probably get a prototype not too far away from them. Remember when Big Daddy Kane wore those leopard bikinis?
If You’re in New York…
And you’re feeling a little old school:
Kangol hats (now $10 to $25) and bags (now $15 to $35) are 50 to 75 percent off. When: Through 6/23 (11-7)Where: 411 Fifth Ave., nr. 37th St., second fl. (212-981-9900)
Lastly, boys and girls, Yaze is coming home to meet the mom! It’s a surprise (she never reads my blogs so I ain’t pressed). We’re going to see my girl Kerry’s new little bundle, Kennadie in the D. In the middle, we’re driving down to the CLE (Cleveland that is) and making a stop. And we’ve set a date for the wedding, May 07 in Goldsboro, NC!
On the business tip, I’ve been away because I’m screening films for AFI’s Film Fest. Mums the word on the diagnosis. I also reviewed Alfred Uhry’s new play “Without Walls”, featuring our favorite Matrix Magical Negro, Laurence Fishburne, for Westside LA Magazine—coming soon. Also, we’re shooting a short I wrote “Dear Me, Letters Me” in New York in August. Big things…