Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Open Mouth Prove Stupid

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Why I try to keep my earbuds in as long as possible while riding mass transit so exchanges like this are less likely to happen when I forget I’m not wearing shades to hide my eyes:

1. Every fat, black woman whose name you don’t know or can’t remember is *not* “Precious”.

2. The actress’ name who portrayed Precious is Gabourey Sidibe.

3. The name of the character Ms. Sidibe portrays on “Empire” is Becky.

4. Clearly you’ve forgotten that “Precious” was raped by own her father.

5. Therefore it was “Becky” having consensual sex on the show. Not Precious and not Gabourey.

Thus your exclamation of “Oh gurl, you shoulda seen Precious gettin’ it on like she think she be the real Precious like you know” displays ignorance on multiple levels and why I’m “lookin’ at choo like youse stupid.”

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Yes, the entire mini-tirade above was my response to being asked “Why you lookin’ at me like I’s stupid?” by the young lady who made the statement. I don’t think she actually expected me to answer her when I caught her off guard and responded with “Do you really want me to answer that?” and then took her to school Julia Sugarbaker style.

Let’s see how others are slicing it this week.

Slice of Life writing Challenge: Two Writing Teachers

Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers

 

When It Matters

vin

So the above image has slowly been making its rounds across the internet and as a friend of mine duly noted last night —  “Being male isn’t entirely a matter of birth, but.. yeah“.

As I have seen that quote in a couple of places this year, lately as a tagline for a men’s fashion blog on Instagram, I decided to do a little digging and found the following:

Being a male is a matter of birth. Being a man is a matter of choice.

This is credited mostly as a “Coleism” by Edward “Ed” Cole founder of the Christian Men’s Network. Cole is nearly as infamous in christian circles for his quotes and witticisms, as the late, great Yogi Berra was infamous in baseball for his. However, Cole and in various places online credits the italicized quote above to evangelist Ben Kinchlow of the 700 Club, another christian organization for those not familiar with it. This explains the initial thinking behind the first line. Though to be fair, acknowledgement, respect and acceptance of a person’s chosen gender identity when it differs from the birth identity is still something relatively new to modern society and the original quote certainly predates our glacially gradual acceptance of such.

Therefore the pictured quote, if it is indeed a statement from Vin Diesel, I conclude is more than likely his unknowingly paraphrasing the original. Or possibly, a fan of Diesel’s saw the quote floating about online and attributed it to him via creating this photo quote.

All of which, in Life’s funny little way of doing things, brings me to this morning…

A regular Tuesday morning rush commute. A young guy on train, legal drinking age – maybe is humming along with his music relatively quietly until he suddenly decides the song on his iPhone was something to be listened to by all of us, whether all of us wanted to hear it or not.  Understandably, there several objections to this and most emphatically let him know. Embarrassed or emboldened by the public chastisement, he does what any man-child brought to task sometimes do. He starts singing a different song, when it was obvious that the first song had not finished. But this one was clearly meant as a bird flip to us all as it contained explicit language. With his head, back eyes closed and head phones he had effectively tuned us out. Unfortunately, two seats down from him was a tyke who, as most youngsters that age are prone to do, managed to echo every other dirty word and phrase the young man uttered from the song.  The little boy’s mother was into her own music and oblivious to her child until a woman sitting next to her, brought it to her attention. She gently chastised her son for saying bad words (again), but understood where the real blame lay. She reached over the woman next to her and tapped the young man on the leg.

“Hi. I get you want to enjoy your music, but must you sing out loud with it? There are children on the train who don’t need to be hearing all that. ”

An older woman standing next to me grunted her opinion, clearly not a fan of his behavior as well. He rolled his eyes at both women claiming he’s a grown and can do what he wants.

Sometimes, I think I have a mild form of Tourette syndrome that’s activated by abject stupidity as a snort of disbelief came forth. In for a penny… as they say so I continued. “Just because you’re  a male who has reached legal adulthood does not make you a grown man.”

“You saying I ain’t a man?”

“I’m saying being a male is a matter of identity, being a man is a matter of reaching an age where you know you can do what you want, but being grown gentleman is a matter of choice in knowing when it sometimes matters not to. ”

It did not magically resolve the situation on the train, but who knows as the young man exited at the next stop with much attitude, but without another word or song.  I mentally smiled realizing what I just said was a take on the Diesel conversation last night. So now I guess I am the first to quote my friend by paraphrasing them all  Glenn, Diesel, Cole and Kinchlow.

Timing is everything.

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Let’s see how other’s are slicing up their day —

Slice of Life – Two Writing Teachers

Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers

 

Yourself First

I was conversing with a friend a few months back, stating while things were far from ideal in my life right now, I am happy with my life in general and with myself  as a person. I was completely taken aback when she said she didn’t think she has ever been truly happy with herself, ever.  I understand it is human to have times when we may not necessarily like ourselves, but to not have been happy – ever? That is deep.  It also explained a lot about her, which was kind of why I was having the conversation in the first place, but that’s her story.

Since that conversation, the subject of personal happiness has come up several times since. Again, I’m continually surprised by how many of my friends are secretly, or not so secretly in some cases, unhappy, with their lives, with themselves. Many don’t, refuse to or simply can’t see the self loathing that is the basis of much of their unhappiness.

Whether you realize or not, It is very hard to love life when you don’t love yourself.

I spent years not being miserable, unable to get along with people, until I finally realized my difficulties with other people were really my difficulties with myself.  I’ve carried my (un)fair share of self shame, unwarranted guilt, inferiority, rejection, etc., internalized it all into a lack of self-love and acceptance. The infamous They say fake it until you make it. Well, I faked the funk well with those who didn’t know, or didn’t care, enough to look deeper. And then self-flagellated as to why didn’t they care enough to look deeper? Because I wasn’t worth it? Charming little cycle of viciousness ain’t it?

There’s a boat load of things I likely would have handled much better when I was younger, had I asked for help at an earlier stage. I told myself I was being strong, I’ve got it handled. Bullshit. I was too weak to ask for help because I did not feel I was worthy of receiving it. If the first step of solving any dilemma is admitting to yourself you’re in one, then the second step most certainly is voicing your need help and the third is accepting that help and actually helping yourself.  It’s a long road, often a tough one, but it is a worthy one. Sometimes you have to put yourself first to get there, and that may mean, reminding others that you are worthy of personal happiness not because of what they allow you to have only after their me. me. me-s, but because YOU give yourself permission to be happy.  There’s a difference between selfish and taking time to take care of yourself. And part of taking care of yourself is making sure you’re doing enough to love yourself for yourself. Not when you reach some arbitrary goal, or if something happens to you – love who you are, as you are right this moment.

Only you can do that for you.

happy 2

As I recently posted on Facebook…

happy 1

Because goodness, and every one else for that matter, knows I love me some me now!

It’s really an old adage, but to paraphrase Rupaul who has made it popular in all her blunt glorious sass,  “If you can’t love yourself, how the hell you gonna love anybody or anything else?”

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Let’s see how others are slicing through life…

Slice of Life : Two Writing Teachers

Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers

Adventures in Eavesdropping while Dining…

It’s 4:30 in the afternoon. A few friends and I are having a nosh at a local diner when the following unfolds at an adjacent table…

Woman: How is your mac & cheese made, is it baked or…?

(Menu states baked mac & cheese, by the way, I was enjoying the dish as this unfolded.)

Waiter (clearly perplexed by her what color is George Washington’s white horse type question): It’s baked.

Woman: Is it good?

(Because a waiter is ever going to tell her it’s the most foul stuff on earth, even if it’s the absolute truth.)

Waiter: Honestly, I’ve never had it (Wait what?)

Woman: Never had it here or ever? (Okay, an unusual, but valid question.)

Waiter: Ever.

(Yes, I clutched my imaginary pearls. And then went all “I’m Sorry Miss Jackson” Ever, ever? Ever? in my mind. )

Woman: Should I chance it?

Waiter (deadpan): Well, I haven’t seen it kill anyone – yet. (Yes, he had a dramatic pause.)

Of course that would be the moment I choke on my mac & cheese. No, I mean, full-fledged water streaming from my eyes, pounding on my back, drawing all attention in the diner choke.

Woman (understanding that it’s their exchange that has caused the choke): Sounds delicious, I’ll have it.

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Let’s see how others are slicing it up….

Slice of Life Challenge : Two Writing Teachers

Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Strike Three You’re Dumb?

So this conversation happened on Facebook…

S: How do seedless grapes grow if there are no seeds to plant?

D: Graphing

S: And that is…?

Rai Venne: Taking the cut of one plant and attaching it to another plant, keeping the newly attached plant alive and growing. Think of it like organ donation where the host body accepts the new organ.

S: Ahhh. Makes sense. I know it was a dumb question but I had to ask it at one point in my life! Thanks Rai!

Rai Venne: It’s not a dumb question, if it gains you knowledge. (Unless you ask it more than thrice, then it’s not that question that’s dumb – lol). :p 🙂

S: Lol. Good thing I retain info pretty well in my old age. But I can’t guarantee I won’t ask 100 more times when I’m 90! I think it’s allowed then, right?

Rai Venne: Absolutely!

grapes

Even at 90 if you’re learning it all over again – you can still learn something new every day.

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Slice of Life: Two Writing Teachers

Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers

I’ve Gotta Be Me

I informed a colleague last week, that there is very little that I cannot somehow smutty up without even trying hard, case in point a call with a bank…

Bank Operator (with one killer baritone): Good Morning, welcome to X Bank. My name is Joe and what can I do to give you outstanding service this morning?

No seriously, the man had a voice. Now I know the emphasis on “outstanding” is part of the telephone script spiel, but the way he delivers the line? Dang.

And just like that, I’m off.

Me (with my never far from dirty, but now pure gutter mind for that voice, is remembering to behave): Well regrettably there’s nothing you can do for me Joe, however you can make *Name on Debit Card in My Hand* very happy. I found the card on the subway platform and I’m sure *Name* would appreciate knowing it’s not just floating out there.

Joe: Oh! Well that’s very nice of you to report it in. Let me check the system; what is the number on the card?

Me (in best professional voice – I said I was trying to behave wasn’t I?):*card number*

Joe: Thank you, one moment please…

I grab my scissors out of the drawer while I wait because I know what’s coming next.

Joe: Yes, I have it. Again I would like to thank you for calling this in; that was very nice of you to do. As for the card…

Me (interrupting): I know, I know. I’m taking scissors to it as we speak and will drop it in the shredder for confetti making in a moment.

Joe: Okay. Thank you. Is that all Miss… (he realizes I never gave my name and quickly sallies forth) or is there anything I can do for you?

Oh and there goes that dang emphasis again.

Me (not entirely joking): Read the phone book or 50 Shades or… oh never mind.

Joe (definitely laughing): Wow it’s only Monday morning and not even nine o’clock.

Me (behaving myself thrown out of the window): Right, as though you’ve never talked dirty on the phone first thing on a Monday morning before. You’ve given outstanding oral service today, Joe. You have an excellent day.

Joe (barely keeping the amusement out of his voice): And you as well, thank you for using X Bank.

Me (stage whisper): Not the way I’d like to use you and your voice right now.

I hang up the phone to the sound of much chuckling on the other end.

I gotta be me, I gotta be meeeeee 

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Let’s see how the others are slicing it this Tuesday…

Slice of Life : Two Writing Teachers

Slice of Life : Two Writing Teachers

 

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Toot

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries aka the crap that comes out of my mouth sometimes that surprises even me.

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A little ego tripping twixt myself and a recent attendee of one of my classes with whom a fun rapport developed via email exchange.

Me:  Weren’t you supposed to email me and remind me to send you this information?

Erstwhile Student:  I had full faith in you that you would remember 😉 Thanks for a seriously awesome training day! You rock…but I’m sure you already knew that.

Me:  * clutches pearls and gasps *

Why, it would be far too immodest of me to self-accolade in such an unseemly manner! I cannot openly concede the methodical superiority in which trainings held under my exacting tutelage are conducted. It would merely serve to further exemplify the depth of all other instructors lacking and that is unkind and unfair.  Luckily, I’m not fair, kind or modest and the horn in which I personally toot is often of a decibel suitable to guide coastal ships in inclement weather.  😉

Besides, the class is only is good as the attendees, many thanks to you for being an equally awesome student.

Erstwhile Student:  LOL! Oh, if only an eighth of my technical classes were even half  as entertaining as yours. Thanks!

Note to my fellow trainers, instructors and teachers reading this. JUST KIDDING!!!!  As I said ego tripping, but it is always wonderful to receive such emails acknowledging your work.

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Let’s see how others are slicing through their Tuesday…

Slice of Life : Two Writing Teachers

Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers

I Cannot Tech This Anymore

I cannot tech today.

I who work in a technology based industry have been in relative fail mode for anything that has a power button today.

The overhead projector and instructor PC in the training room are in an apparent lover’s snit and do not want to talk each other. I check the wires, display format etc. nothing.  Of course I discover this minutes before a class is set to start.

Fine ain’t got time for dat as the saying goes. We’ll do this the ol’ fashioned way and use the still active portable projector like I used to do not too long ago. It’s not as pretty or as high-tech as the overhead, but it will get the job done right? Right. Wrong. Keystone. Horizontal and Vertical settings. Zoom, only showing one monitor. It’s not happening. Oh come the freak on already! All this futzing around is still happening at 10:15 for a class that was supposed to start at 9:30. I look at my students admit tech failure and start to talk talk them through the training.  I speak a lot as it takes longer to describe a concept where a simple click of the mouse to show them all at once would have worked miracles, but we get through it.

I come back to my desk and accidentally kick something, that hits something, that pulls the plug on one of my monitors.  Greeeeeeaaat! Follow the affected line down through the spaghetti of cords under my desk and get it all plugged up, only to realize I have now pulled out my mouse in the process and back into the spaghetti I go.

A run to Starbucks struck me as a right fine idea, by then.  Well, that my colleague leaving me a note, putting the bug in my ear (a really creepy crawly action if taken literally I must say). So I grab my phone with my Starbucks app, insure I have my cardkey to get back in the building, take my sunglasses and head out for some much needed refreshment.

So, do you want to guess who got in line at Starbucks, got all the way to the front of the line, was one measly person away from placing an order when she pulled out her phone and realized the damned thing was as dead as a door nail? No really, guess who! Hint: It’s the same person who did not have a dime on her otherwise. The same person who could not use her Starbucks card instead because it was in her wallet. The same person who left her wallet at her desk, because why would I need my wallet when I have my Starbucks app on my trustee phone? Uh huh.

Technology: 4 – Raivenne: zilch

Silver lining? Yes, there is one. I made it back into the office building Starbucks-less, but just before it started to to pour outside (good thing I had my shades with me, huh?).  Also, this computer has not done anything else untoward since I started typing. Yay, the tides are turning…

But I’m not touching any light switches with my bare hands for the rest of the day, just in case…

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Let’s see how others are slicing it up this Tuesday.Slice of Life : Two Writing Teachers
Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers

No Photos Please!

A friend of mine was posting in a group on Facebook and apparently “Funeral Selfies” is a thing now.

Yes, it’s exactly what it sounds like, taking photos of oneself at a wake or funeral and then posting it to social media for the world can see. Really. And I hate to think this, but in this land of you know you want to know what’s happening with me right this minute! instant information, it so feels so much like something some in the “millennial” generation would do and I don’t understand it. I don’t understand how anyone could be so incredibly narcissistic, at a funeral nonetheless, and think it is okay.

At the wake for my late-husband, Del, a cousin I had not seen in nearly a decade at that point, showed up in bright pink rollers and a scarf that was a joke of an attempt at covering them, so she was already pissing me off. I mean, who shows up at a wake in rollers? As I’m speaking with Reese, my late-husband’s cousin and best friend, I hear the familiar click of a camera behind me. I spin around and call out “No.” waving my index finger. It is Del taking a picture of a couple of friends/family near of the back of the room.

“It’s okay, he’s not in the picture”. She explained at my reaction. “He” being my late husband, aka the deceased that was laying at the front of the same room, and the reason why we were all there at that moment. I continued shaking my head and waving my finger in the negative, but Del lifted the camera preparing to take another picture. I remember thinking “Oh, you’re going to argue with me, the widow at her own husband’s wake?” instead what came out of my mouth was “NO!” at a volume that stopped everyone in the room. I had not even realized that I had taken the physical steps to beat her with her camera until I felt Reese restrain me. Whatever was on my face, Del and those she wanted pictures of were quickly going outside. Luckily, selfies as we know and use them now did not exist then. Because I know if she were truly taking a picture of herself at the moment Reese could not have held me back.

I find even taking photos outside of a funeral parlor or at a church where it’s obviously a funeral is gauche. A wake/funeral is not about you. If you yourself are not in deep mourning, you are there for the deceased and/o for those who are in mourning. That’s why it’s called paying your last respects. How are taking photos of yourself showing that respect? At the very least have the manners to wait until the repast for such.

If you don’t have pictures of friends/family members at happier events whose fault is that? Show up at a party, a BBQ, a wedding or family reunion. Or better yet host one to have people over so you can happy photos.

I think taking pictures at a wake/funeral/interment of the living or dead is so disrespectful enough. Turning around and then posting such on social media is a level of gracelessness I simply cannot comprehend.

“You look lovely, that dress is so cute! Where was this?”

“Oh thanks! I got it at the boutique. That was at Nana’s funeral last month.”

My immediate family knows “NO PHOTOS”. God help anyone taking pictures at my funeral. Just for spite, I am showing up in every photo as the creepy shadowy figure that doesn’t go away no matter how they try to crop or Photoshop me out.

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Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers

Slice of Life Writing Challenge | Two Writing Teachers

A Pearl Among Stores

How did I not know Pearl Paint closed?!?! Not just closed, but closed for a little over a year now. It felt as though I was just there recently, but time is indeed fluid to the heart as it was December 2013 I was there last according to my bank statement.

I had wanted to go by Pearl on a day off just because. The place always inspired me and as one can see from the dearth of posting as of late, I could use it. Still, something said go online and check the store’s opening hours before I drag my tail down there and that’s how I learned yet another NYC societal if not historical landmark that has fallen victim to the giant called capitalism.

After the shock of the discovery, I semi-joked I have not been this mournful since I read the Red Wedding scene in George R.R. Martin’s “A Storm of Swords“.  If you do not know what the Red Wedding is by now, don’t bother asking. Just understand that it’s something bad.  Sucker punch, gasp out loud, gut wrenching bad.

Because it’s a new wound for me, i want to pass by the site and poor libations on its threshold. That’s how the unexpected loss of Pearl Paint has struck me.

Pearl Paint was an eight decades old institution. Whether the amateur looking for stamped tin foil for an occasional scrapbook or the professional looking for gold foil leaf for a mural in a skyscraper, Pearl had it. I did not go there often, as Pearl was off my beaten path, but once I was there, I was there for a couple of hours minimum. Since the early 80’s, when I first discovered the place, it was six floors of dusty, seemingly nonsensical, glorious mayhem.  But if I needed it artistically, Pearl Paint had it. And it was not just an art supply store for many of the staff and fellow shoppers were artists in their own right. I come in with what I think is a simple question or request and leave some time later having absorbed knowledge, techniques, tools and sometimes gossip.

And now it’s all gone.

I mean doors locked, gates closed, assets sold off .

*Gone*.

Yes, there are other art supply stores, this is New York City, but none like Pearl Paint. I Alas no, like so many other places and spaced becoming a part of my past, it’s now just memory.

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Come see how others are slicing up their days.

Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers

Tuesday Slice of Life Story Challenge – Two Writing Teachers