IB Culture

I've noticed something relatively amusing (to me) about IB-ites. We can thank the facebook and myspace for this diatribe :)

So anyone who has come in contact with the International Baccalaureate Programme (IB for short) will agree that it has changed their life. Whether you stayed that first year, got kicked out, or hung in for the long haul (whether or not you got the diploma is another issue), you were impacted. I credit IB for me enjoying my first couple of years of college. However, why am I seeing IB books as part of people’s favorite books? One repeat offender: 100 Years of Solitude. Now, I will say that I actually enjoyed this book (please don’t tell my teachers), and that I got some of the symbolism, but I’m sure I missed some of it. This places the book in the impact category, not the favorites. And yes, I realize that something deemed a “favorite” is totally subjective, but lets keep it real. You may have liked the book. But have you re-read it since the final and those damn papers?

My point exactly.

I want to re-read it, and maybe if/when I do, I’ll add it to the favorites list. In the meantime, I’ll allow the Harry Potters to reign supreme.

But it isn’t just that book. I’ve seen others that were required reading that over the course of years away from Suncoast have become these fabulous literary works deemed “favorites.” Yes, it makes us seem all heady and intellectual for having been exposed to them so long ago, and kinda getting it, but honestly people don’t even know what some of the books are.

I digress. Take home message: keep it real. People know were smart (or at least that we get relatively good grades and are able to maintain a smart-front). No need to pad our sections with excerpts from the IB reading list to further the point.

Honestly, who really read that stuff anyway :)

xoxox

Funny How Things Change

So, I’m sitting here talking to Dani about Grey’s, and how it bears an uncanny likeliness to events in her life (hadn’t stop to look for the similarities to mine). My internal irrational optimist would like to believe that certain situations could have been handled differently, and in hindsight both of our more rational selves has to agree. However, we don’t have the luxury of going back in time, or simply deciding that we want to “re-do” life. And when you make difficult decisions, and you move on, things will change. Whether you want them to or not. Chalk it up to growing up, or laying in the bed we made – either way, when you get on the other side of the hurdle and have resumed some sense of normalcy, if you’re lucky you get to have a small giggle about it. Whatever traumatic, life-altering event it might have been in the past.

Its also funny to me how someone can go from being sexy and a potential to not as sexy or attractive or interesting when you find they are no longer single. Even when you had a feeling they may not be single anymore. Happened to me tonight. I had lost what residual interest I had a couple of weeks ago upon inquiring about his status, but when I saw him tonight on the facebook, I found myself wondering what the hell the hype was about. And after I got over the internal shock (and accompanying giggles), I felt pretty good. Totally better off with the girlfriend…

Speaking of changes, a birthday occurred today. I know, I know: everyday someone is born, everyday is someone’s birthday. However, up until about a year ago, this person was really special to me. I love(d) him. And not just the romantic love, but that we’ve been friends forever, I’m-here-for-you-no-matter-what-happens kind of love that you don’t have for just everyone. Last year he chose his romantic partner over me. And that’s fine really. But it’s the way he did it. AND the fact that it wasn’t the first time he had done it. Both times, there was a unfortunate awkward mutter of “I cant talk to you, I don’t think we should talk at all” that was followed by me being totally dumbstruck and responding with a clear trying-to-save-face “okay.” Well, like I said, last year I got this on his birthday – May 15th when I was trying to simply say Happy Birthday. Yes, he returned the courtesy on May 20th, but I didn’t want to talk.

You ever get to the point where you refuse to put yourself back out there to be potentially thrown to the side? Well I was there about 6 months ago. And today, as I sit and reminisce on the fact that he turns 25 today, and I talked to his lovely mom last week (or so), and that this is the most thought I’d given to him and his birthday (as I write this), I feel good. Not bitter. There’s still some residual hurt because I don’t understand how you toss your friends aside. But no anger.

If you asked me 5 years ago if I would have talked to him sometime between May 15th and May 20th, you would have gotten a definitive yes. But things aren’t really like that between us anymore. We don’t communicate. We won’t communicate if it’s up to me to crack open the lines.

Happy Birthday D. I hope it’s a happy one.
Thank you life for always keeping me on my toes.

xoxox

I wish I could collect data

So, I recently became active on MySpace (I joined awhile ago but hadnt gotten into it). And for a short period (like 1 day), I was kinda obsessed with finding the right wallpaper - had to have hearts- and other random profile-type things. Then I realized in all this working, that I didnt really have any friends yet. It hadnt occured to me that the rest of the world was probably totally obsessed with it, and I was yet again a little late (or as I like to think too busy being a graduate student) to join the masses.

In the meantime, I started asking around, and some of the randomest people either do or dont have pages for some interesting reasons. Kevin seems to think its the latest method to e-hoe. Of course I took offense because of the way he said "I dont e-hoe." Well, neither do I! But after spending a few days in the MySpace community (lol), I definitely see how he could get that impression. On the other hand, William seems to think its not nearly restricted enough, and says that at least on the facebook when he meets someone, at least he knows theyre in college - yet another interesting point. They both likened it to an updated version of collegeclub or blackplanet (please remind me to diable those accounts), which I could totally agree with...

So last night as I'm up late, mostly plundering through people's accounts that I know, I start finding all kinds of other people - both those very likely and those unlikely - to be on MySpace. But the funniest part is the way people perpetuate themselves on the internet. Yes, true-self representation online shows its ugly head once again, but I know rappers, musicians, and people who are otherwise really working towards achieving their goals looking like hoes, gangbangers, and bastards! Well, some of them kinda are, but most of them are super nice people. But can you tell me why so many women are barely dressed? Oh! And why I seem to be in the minority that cares about whether their page is readable and user-friendly (rather than just cool looking).

Either way, I like it. I definitely need to change my preferences so that they arent emailing me everytime someone does something (which would also require me to check it reguarly). And now that I have a profile thats to my liking, and friends, I can lay off for awhile (hopefully).

I swear, if this was publishable in my field, I would collect data.

xoxox

Its never too late to pay tribute to the alma mater!

In honor of Founders Day:

The Spelman Hymn
Eddie May Money Shivery '34

Spelman thy name we praise
Standards and honor raise
We'll ever faithful be
Throughout eternity
May peace with thee abide
And God forever guide
Thine heights supreme and true
Blessings to you.

Through years of toil and pain
May thy dear walls remain
Beacons of heavenly light
Undaunted by the fight
And when lifes race is won
Thy noble work is done
Oh God forever guide
Our hearts to thine.

We love you Spelman. Happy 125th Birthday!!

xoxox

I already know I'm being totally ridiculous

...but hey, at least I'm not waxing poetic about how I'm ready to be a mother, starting today (and looking for William to do his part).


Anyway, I just found out that one of my favorite people in the world is engaged. Bring the count up to a round 5. Some of those people are simply old aquaintences from high school - I'll care the most come reunion time (4 years --- oh my god--- from now). But one wedding I'm in, and the other I will most definitely be attending.

The thing is, coupled with my (I believe) genuine excitement for her (considering we ALL knew it was coming - even heard it from her boyfriend's mouth), I cant help but not be so happy. Maybe even a twinge of jealousy.

There, I said it. But only a twinge.

Why? BECAUSE I AM NOT READY TO GET MARRIED TO ANYONE! Especially right now. (lol).

So I really am just being crazy. I'll settle for blaming Spelman/Mom/American society for bringing me up to expect to have it all...PhD, long ready for marriage relationship, being involved on campus, working out, and having fabulous hair. And I'll settle for having a few of those secured, and working on the others...


Its Spring Break, and I'm blogging....whats wrong with this pic? Nothing!! Having a wonderful time in the Azalea City (maybe I'll take some pics...theyre everywhere!). Adi!

xoxox

Random Acts and 5-Finger Discounts

So I'm sitting at Krispy Kreme waiting to order 2 original glazed doughnuts (like a moth to a flame i'm drawn to the hotlight - lol). And I see someone loading a truck or something in the back. Needless to say a black guy walks over and motions for me to roll down my window. I do (i know, it was pretty risky) and he essentially asks what I'm ordering and offers to get me 2 dozen for $5 - a percentage of what they would normally cost. Of course I decline, becuase what the hell would I do with 2 dozen doughnuts but eat them and be sick, but I pulled up the speaker thingie (and subsequent window) smiling. He didnt have to offer to get the doughtnuts for me on sale. Or to go in back and get my 2 doughnuts for free. Idunno what made him come to my car...but I appreciated the offer even if I am totally able to buy my own doughnuts.

Like Jamie said: You still got it girl...

just had to pass it on...

Please Don't Tell Martin
by Bitter B

Thank you Ms. Coretta for the grace, strength, and dignity that you displayed. Since your wonderful husband was assassinated by the bullets of fear and hate. You know they killed him because of their ignorance. Thank you for not allowing bitterness and anger to engulf your very existence. Now that you are reunited with Martin tell him that they are stripping our rights away, day by day, but his fight was not in vain. Tell him that although my generation glorifies drugs, debases black women in song, and calls us vulgar names - that his dream still remains. Our men no longer celebrate our natural black beauty - we have to have long weaves, small waists, and big ole booties. The videos are so degrading, they mirror soft porn. Us Blacks own television stations now, but that's all that's shown.

Tell Martin that my generation apologizes for its lack of respect for his legacy and the dormancy of our elders, we might as well call this the Civil Rights of Unmovement Era. Tell him thatalthough we as black people make more than we've ever seen, that we squander it on diamond clad teeth, 24 inch rims, and designer clothes due to our sagging self-esteem. Tell Martin that our babies are growing up without fathers, while the mothers are catching buses just like he remembers. Our children take to the streets in droves, not to march or proclaim the injustice of this nation, but to pledge their gang affiliation. I can't rhyme to this next line. On any night thugs hang out while bullets ring out - not freedom. And yes we continue to be judged by the color of our skin by America but I wonder most about the lack of the content of our character. Advise him that the grand-daughters of the Civil Rights era are making their money as strippers. The Grand-sons of the marchers are ignoring their sons and daughters and hanging and slangin' on corners. They're going to jail in mass numbers, not for protesting, marching, or defying racism, but because they commit illegal acts to gain materialism. Our children are making babies, ignoring education, committing felonious capers, I wish they'd read his Birmingham Jail Papers.

Tell Martin that those in the ghetto are not the only ones forgetting his dream. There are those who've forgotten where they came from because of a little cream. Who refuse to give back to the community, because their motto is 'More for me'. They've forgotten how to lend a helping hand, to help their fellow man - all the while thinking, 'If I can make it, they can'. Looking down without offering a leg up, getting on elevators with their noses up. Some of us are even republicans now, but that's a very exclusive black crowd. Striving to get to the top of the ladder, to make their pockets fatter - instead of doing something that truly matters. Leaving the 'hood' in droves and only moving back when Whites buy up all of the homes.

Tell Martin that we still like to dance and sing, but not Negro spirituals cuz we've got Beyonce grinding and shaking her thing. Ms. Coretta, this may hurt poor Martin the most - it just may seal the deal, we as a people don't attend church anymore. Cuz we've gotten a little education and found out that God wasn't real. For those of us who still believe, it makes us want to holla, we've got a pimp named Bishop and a Bishop named Dollar. I don't know Ms. Corretta, maybe you'd better not tell Martin that for all that he's done to make us free, equal, and just - that we still migrate to the back of the bus. I'll bet looking down - he doesn't recognize us. We've forgotten how to march, protest, and vote - but be at the club, standing in line for hours - in the freezing cold. Sporting the latest gear; stilettos, hoochie clothes, teeth that's froze, and Tims - driving cars with less tire more rim. Dying to get in so that we can 'shake it fast', drop it like it's hot' - forgetting the respect and dignity that we were taught. I neva' thought I'd think this thought, but please don't eva' give Martin your report. Ms. Coretta, maybe you should just avoid mentioning my generation all togetha'.

Bitter B
Released: January 31st, 2006

Confessions of an Independent Woman

I swear...it really isnt all its cracked up to be.

This whole, I'm a woman, independent mantra that we as black women have been indellibly marked with is really not fun sometimes. Yeah, its cool that I dont NEED a man, but I definitely can relate to some women who believe they do.

Case in point: toilets. I have had more run-ins with a plunger in the last 6 weeks than I have had in the last almost 24 years! I went from not even owning a plunger, to not knowing how to use a plunger, to using one quite frequently. Yes, there is a sense of accomplishment in being able to say "I can plunge my own toilet when the need arises," but I experience the same level (if not a higher level) of positve affect by being able to simply ask William to handle it.

Now that I mention it, I dont think that wanting a man to do things for me (we'll table the full blown discussion of chilvalry for some other time) undercuts my independence. If anything I think it makes me resouceful. Yeah...resourceful! One of the laws of Girl Scouting encourages us to "use resouces wisely" (and running the risk of sounding chauvanistic), when men are conceptualized as resources, I'm just using what I'm given wisely.

I like thinking of it that way. Glad I wrote it down :)

I can still be my fabulous self-sufficient, open to discovery, and willing to try new things and develop new skills self, AND realize that sometimes it may be more desirable (and less gross) to outsource.

#1 on that list of times: Toilets.

xoxox

When you care enough to say your very best

I love Daily Candy.com....their lexicon always helps me find the right words to say.

February 14, 2006

What in Carnation?

You two might be a long way from carving your names in the old oak tree, but there’s nothing like Valentine’s Day to remind you whom you heart (or don’t).

amoraphobia
n. an irrational fear of Valentine’s Day.

blue bawls
n. an emotional, romantic version of flirting that leaves you feeling sad and crying.

bud light
n. the blatantly cheap flower selection from a guy who needs to be dumped ASAP. (How was your V-Day? Bud light.)

carniwhore
n. a girl who puts out for carnations.

do-or-diamond
adj. as in, if I don’t see a ring today, he’s dead to me.

long-stem posers
n. people who send themselves flowers from a “secret admirer.”

lote
v. to walk the thin line between love and hate. (I lote Johnny. One day he’s a dollface; the
next he’s a total wanker.)

ménage à flaws
n. when you crash your friend’s Valentine’s Day date only to talk about all your
relationships gone wrong.

PDR
n. public display of rejection: when your valentine takes you somewhere lovely only to break your heart in front of strangers.

Valentiny Tim
n. a man whose masculinity is put in question by his overenthusiasm for V-Day. (I mean, I don’t expect him to be a Valentiny Tim, but he could at least try to hide his total amoraphobia.)

Random Question #8

Is anyone else concerned that EVERYONE goes into the fresh flowers business for Valentines Day? I'm sorry, I just dont think I want to buy my roses from Walgreens...

and if I dont get back here tomorrow...Happy Valentines Day!