Okay, so I’m skeptical about whether or not they’re going to win against Villanova. I mean, Villanova’s a No. 3 seed. American University’s No. 14. Seems kinda out there, but hey, I’m gonna root for the underdog.

From what I know, these guys play with a lot of heart. When you’ve been shut out for so long, you’re hungry for a win. Therefore, they give it their all. And they play until it’s over. Last year they won their tournament championship for the first time ever, earning a first-time appearance into the NCAA tournament. They lost in the first round to Tennessee, but at the time it was about making it that far. They’d accomplished something. This year they want more.

And I think they deserve it. Even Obama has Villanova winning in his bracket.

This morning on the train, some Georgetown alum was talking trash about AU. Something about how nobody knows where that school is. I had to defend the Eagles, even though I’m not an AU alum. I told him, “At least AU made the tournament.” He couldn’t argue with that. Georgetown was always a familiar name during March Madness, but not this year. They’re playing in the NIT, and couldn’t even make it in that tournament, exiting as a No. 6 seed and losing to Baylor. Damn.

So anyway, they play Villanova today. I’m hoping for the upset. For real. Stop sleeping on the Eagles.

Cheering for AU,

Nell

This spring, I’m thinking about revisiting my alma mater. It’ll be my first time back on the campus since my undergrad chapter reunion back in 2007. It’s weird how ever since graduation, I’ve made it a habit of unintentionally coming back to campus every other year. I finished in 2003. Revisited to see my neo in 2005. Chapter reunion in 2007. And now visiting neos in 2009.

I think about college alot. Many people have memories of dorm life, parties, campus hangouts, study spots, and lifetime friendships. Some people from college married each other. For the most part, the memories are true…but in some aspects, I can’t help but feel like the bad is neck-and-neck with the good. The first thing that comes to mind when I think of undergrad was my utter and total insecurity those first three years. There is SO MUCH I wish I could go back and do differently.

For one, a very bad experience involving a liar of a so-called boyfriend (or should I say “fling?” We weren’t together very long) did more damage than I realized. After that, I developed really low self-esteem. I just wanted to be accepted, to fit in. I didn’t get the guidance I should’ve gotten. I didn’t have the support system I needed. I was so far away from home, leaving all my friends behind, and after that experience, the loneliness was immense. I walked around with my head down, listening to music to drown everybody out. I must’ve hid it well, but really I needed a friend. I tried being more social and talking to more people, but a lot of folks appeared to be turned off by me. Not to say that everyone was evil to me (but there were quite a few who didn’t help the situation), but perhaps I was going about it wrong. I never had many girlfriends, and I really wanted that, but could never find a niche where I fit in, so I floated in and out of  circles.

After a while, I felt that in order to be accepted, I had to please everyone in the best way I could. I realized the hard way that it only made it easier for people to take advantage of me, and boy, did they ever. I never became promiscuous, looking for affection. But I became super-conscious of myself, cared too much of what other people thought of me. Then when things got tough, everyone seemed to turn on me, point fingers for the blame that really both parties shared. People who I thought were my friends sold me out. I took total blame for things I should’ve defended, things I for which I should’ve stood up for myself more. I should’ve called more people out on their fakeness and their own faults in situations. I should’ve cursed and shouted more. I should’ve demanded to be taken more seriously.

That made me crawl deeper into a hole.

I honestly wish I’d gotten involved earlier. Maybe that would’ve been a better outlet. Maybe I would’ve made more friends, been more occupied doing other things instead of schoolwork and loneliness. Speaking of schoolwork, my grades were fine once I got into my major, but overall I don’t think my grades accurately represent my potential. I wish I’d been more gung-ho about getting into the books. I know I could’ve done much better in subjects that I breezed through in high school.

What’s so weird is that it wasn’t until my senior year that I finally broke out of my shell and became my own person. Somewhat. I was more outspoken. I stood up for myself more. I stopped caring so much about outside opinions. I set goals for myself and met them. And now, five years after graduation, I think I’ve become the person I should’ve been at ages 18-21. Why didn’t I do this sooner? I missed out on so much.

But anyway, not too long ago I was talking to a soror and she asked if I still harbored any hard feelings on some of the unfair things that happened to me in undergrad. A part of me says no. It was so long ago, and some of the major characters I haven’t seen since then. But a small part of me says yes. If there is one thing I’m working on, it’s how to deal when closure doesn’t seem possible. I wish I could confront those people who did those things, said those things. But chances are they’ve forgotten all about it. So I guess so should I.

But with the bad, there’s the good. I miss my sorors. I miss the parties. I miss the road-trips. I miss some of the friends I did have before Sigma, the ones whom I almost lost complete touch with until recently. I even miss Lewellen Pool. I can’t wait to visit some of my favorite spots — Greek’s pizza, Bracken Library, Art and Journalism building, The Daily News newsroom. I can’t wait to just walk around and think about some of the fun I had.

Yes, undergrad was a long time ago. But it plays a bigger part in our lives than we give credit for. Life-changing things have happened there. But as for the bad, I’m looking forward to burying that part of me for good when I head back to Muncie.

Tossing dish liquid in the Frog Pond,

Nell

Okay, so it’s been mad busy around these parts. I’ve got writer’s block, work has me distracted from other stuff, and don’t get me started on sorority obligations. At any rate, what I have found time for — or rather what has managed to become such a part of my life — is my new BlackBerry.

This is the first BlackBerry I’ve owned, and also happens to be the latest version being offered by Verizon — the BlackBerry Storm. I’m out of the flip-phone life, people! Yours truly has finally upgraded after 2 years or so! The decision to get the BlackBerry Storm — let alone stay with Verizon, was a tricky one at first, but I think I made the right decision.

For starters, I originally wanted the iPhone. My sister has one, and after checking out all the gidgets and features and what not, it seemed like the phone to have. I figured I’d wait for my contract to end, and then I’d re-up with AT&T and get this phone. It was awesome!

But what kept me from going that route were three things: One, the iPhone can’t be insured. Imagine being one of those hundreds of people who lined up and shelled out 6 yards for that phone, only for it to get damaged. That’s another $600 bucks (well, they’re around $200 now) for a brand new phone. As opposed to the BlackBerry coming with the option of insurance, which means paying a $50 deductible and getting your phone in two days. In this day and age, insurance is a must.

Second, the iPhone doesn’t take video. Which is fine if you don’t care that much, but I’m a picture-snapping, video-taking kinda girl. I need that in my life. The BlackBerry Storm takes photo and video.

Three, AT&T doesn’t have underground service. Verizon does. That means a lot to me, since I’m not driving and rely on the subway.

Not to say that the iPhone doesn’t have its advantages. For one, they have a direct deal with YouTube, so your YouTube videos are gonna turn out better than they would on the BlackBerry Storm. Plus, they have widget options that BlackBerry doesn’t, like that cool application that finds restaurants near you, or that Kazoom thing (did I say it right?) that can tag a song wherever you are (Verizon has that, but I don’t know if it’s a separate service — I think you gotta pay for it). Also, while their picture quality’s just as good as the BlackBerry’s if not better, they don’t take as long to snap a picture. The Blackberry will take the photo, only it takes seconds longer than it should to snap the picture, then upload.

Still, I think I made the right decision. Coming from an LG VX8500, this is the ultimate upgrade for me. The pictures are so much better that I can delay getting a digital camera for a while, and that says alot coming from someone who was supposed to have bought it last August.

Now, my friends warned me about this, and it’s slowly starting to set in, but now I’m becoming addicted to this damn thing. I’ve set it up so my email and Facebook alerts go directly to my phone, which makes it easier to do things on the go. Now, when I’m in front of a PC, I end up just going into email and deleting everything that I’ve already read on my phone.  But it’s not until you get those alerts to your phone that the convenience starts to set in and you realize how much you miss when you’re not in front of a computer — how often people email you or do some kind of update on Facebook. And you find yourself on your phone all the time.

ALL. THE. TIME.

But at least I’m not getting TOO distracted by this thing. Not like one of my sorors did, when she was so wrapped up in her phone on Thanksgiving Day that she totally forgot to add the milk and eggs to the macaroni and cheese, and as a result, that’s all we had literally — macaroni and cheese. I took the phone from her and held it throughout dinner.

The only thing I haven’t done was download music. What’s the point in doing that when I have an iPod?

Checking email (AGAIN),

Nell

Ever have a day where it seems like nothing goes right? Yeah, it wasn’t funny at the time, but now I can look back on it and laugh. Especially since Tyler’s doing much better now.

Okay, it started out on Saturday, Feb. 7, when I was skipping my happy ass off the subway and over to the hair salon that I frequent, where my beloved Tyler works. I had a 12pm appointment to do something to my hair, which is cut short and can easily turn into a hot mess when I go for a long time without having Tyler work on it. Saturday, Feb. 7, was the last day I was to go about looking crazy. Saturday, Feb. 7, was the day I’d have a huge confidence boost.

Well, I strode into the shop, only for the receptionist to tell me that Tyler is out sick. NOOOOOOOO!!!!!! I was devastated. The receptionist goes on to say they tried to call me to let me know, but couldn’t reach me, which is unfortunate because I’d ridden all the way uptown to see her. At any rate, I make an appointment for Wednesday, Feb. 11, and head out the door. A few seconds later, the receptionist went to catch up with me, and asked if something was wrong with my phone, because the number I put down was the same number they’d been calling all morning with no luck. I had no idea what they were talking about, but it was a believable story because my phone had been out of wack for about a week or two prior. No one could reach me, I’d get texts and voicemails hours after they’d been sent, and one time there was a weather emergency and I got to work a half hour early, only to find out the office was going to open 2 hours late. Sheesh!

More on that part later.

So anyway, I’m at a loss as I hop on the subway. Who was going to do my hair? I had a stepshow to judge that evening, and another event to co-host that following Tuesday. I could not show my face looking like crap. Days earlier, I’d gotten my eyebrows waxed and they were finally in shape, and Saturday, Feb. 7, was the day I was supposed to have the final touch added to my rejuvenated look. That wasn’t going to happen. Dammit, Tyler! Why’d you have to go and get sick on me?!

Anyway, I was at a crossroads where I only had a few hours to spare. Tyler’s getting sick ruined my entire itinerary. The plan was to see her at noon, be done by two, head down to Pentagon City mall to use my DSW coupon and maybe find a cute, cheap shirt for that evening, and be at the stepshow venue (George Washington Univ.) an hour before doors opened (judges had to be there early). Well, with Tyler sick, I had to think fast and find a salon that could take me in ASAP, which was asking a whole lot since most places ask that you have an appointment, and walk-ins almost always get the shaft.

My thoughts brought me to a salon on U Street that I’d seen in passing while taking the bus home from work. I walk in, tell them what I want, and minutes later I’m led to the back of the salon for a shampoo. A damn good shampoo at that. That chick really knew how to scratch a scalp. But that’s where the fantasy ends.

The shampoo girl put me under the dryer for a deep conditioning. 20 minutes later, the dryer stops. 15 minutes after that, homegirl returns, tells me she didn’t know it stopped, then left for another 10 mintues to do God-knows-what. She returns, washes out the conditioner, sets my hair, puts me back under the dryer for about 30-45 minutes. 10 minutes after that, my designated stylist calls me to the front.

While sitting under the dryer, I found my haircut in a hair magazine. I point it out to the stylist and tell her that’s exactly what I want. She goes, “I don’t know if I like it all teased out like that.” Bitch, who asked you what YOU liked? Do my damn hair! I tell her the back needs to be cut down just slightly since it had grown out, and curl the rest. She curls it into a style that I could’ve done myself. I’m not pleased at all. She cut it down, but now it’s too short! I don’t realize that until after she’s done with my hair entirely. I raise hell and walk out of there with a $20 discount. It was 12:15 when I arrived at the salon. It’s 4:30 when I finally get to leave. $35 down the drain. In retrospect, I could’ve taken $15 and bought some Paul Mitchell Foaming Pomade, and went home and tried to work some magic my-damn-self.

It’s 5:15 or so when I finally make it to GWU. I’m still slightly early. I had no time to make it to Pentagon City for DSW and Forever 21, so I had to settle on Payless (where I found some cute black, patent-leather, T-strap heels) and H&M for a black blouse (I love that store). Maybe I actually saved money in the end. Oh well.

My sorors liked my cut, but I hated it. They liked the rest of the ensemble, too, which at least compensated for my fucked-up cut. As for my fucked-up phone, ironically I’d upgraded that past Friday, so my new phone was en route and would reach me by Monday. Whatever. One last weekend with this piece of shit.

The stepshow went well. That’s another blog within itself.

So, after a somewhat-hellish Saturday, it got better later on. On Monday, I got my new phone – a Blackberry Storm – which I love. On Tuesday, the event I hosted at AU, Black History Jeopardy, went very well. And on Wednesday, I went to see Tyler, who was a little distraught with how that bitch butchered my cut, but she was able to work her magic and fix it for me. The only bad news is that because it’s cut so short in the back, there’s no way I’ll be able to go a week without a weekly appointment until it grows in some. But because it’s Tyler, I’ll manage.

Don’t ever get sick again, girl. It was horrible!

Looking like a woman,

Nell

So, in the past year alone, quite a few people in my life have either gotten married, gotten engaged, or gotten pregnant.  I think it’s a sign of how old I’m getting when almost everyone around me has either taken on the role of spouse or parent, sometimes both. On the other end of the spectrum, I’ve also begun to see more and more of my peers become hungrier for that life. As if it’s the be all to end all, like their only reason for living is this. It’s becoming creepy.

I’d be lying if I said I never thought of life with the spouse and 2.5 kids. Sure, I’ve thought about it tons of times. I’ve thought about names for kids, where I’d like them to go to school, what kind of household I’d have. I even know what kind of wedding I want (small and private is the name of the game). I’m a hopeless romantic, but not insane. If I ever get to the point where I’m wallowing in sorrow at other people’s weddings, or plotting ways to steal a baby so I can have one of my own, or poking holes in condoms and missing pills on purpose just so I can appeal to a man’s parents and get him to change his mind about being with me, then shock therapy may be in order.

I’ve gone back and forth on this issue, about whether or not it matters to me if I’m destined to always be single. I still think that the time will come when it’s supposed to, but now I realize that yes, I do want that to happen. I’d love to have a family of my own.

Not to say that I’m desperate. If anything, in the past I’ve been more desperate to find love and happiness more than I am now — to the point where I willingly stepped into relationships that I knew I should’ve stayed far away from, but I stuck with it because, like a fool, I thought things would change and that if I stuck it out, it would lead to where I wanted to be. But after getting out of that situation, I’m seeing more now what desperation – and being more in love with the idea of being in love than you are with the actual person — will do to folks. It’ll make you a stalker. It’ll make you settle. You start planning for 5 years from now and you’ve only gone out on one date. It also makes you constantly have a barrage of excuses for why you’re in a position that you know isn’t good for you, but you stay in it anyway.

I don’t want to be that person.

I look back on who I was a year or more ago, and I realize that hell, I wasn’t ready for anything super serious. I could barely take care of myself, let alone someone else. I didn’t even love myself as much as I do now. How can I expect to have a man walk into my life and have to clean up the mess I’ve made? To be honest, I’m still cleaning up. I don’t think I’ll ever have a spotless home. But it’s nowhere near the hurricane wreck it once was.

I’ve pretty much become content with the whole “waiting on the right one” thing. I’ve stopped that whole search for a husband eons ago, because it’s brought me nothing but down. I’m sure he’ll come when/if he’s supposed to.  I’ve focused more on loving myself (something I just started doing right around the fall of 2008), and hell, just live life and have fun. But in the meantime, I wish I didn’t have to deal with the jerks I’ve encounterd. People who lie. People who keep secrets. People who make excuses. People who manipulate. Not to say I’ve been perfect in all of this, but now I know I can — and want to — do without all of that. I would much rather be alone instead of being with someone who doesn’t make me happy just for the sake of being with someone, or to be caught in the passion and not think of the logic.  I know of people who are currently doing that.

Still, there are some things I can’t fathom doing alone. I don’t want to be a single parent. I don’t want to travel the world completely by myself. I don’t want to grow old completely by myself. I don’t want to be the only one living in my house all the time. Perhaps it’s not a guarantee that any of this will happen, but I hope it’ll be because it’s not supposed to rather than because of misfortune. If I’m destined to travel a different road, then I wish to have the courage and the contentment of living that way.

But it’ll be nice to have it another way around.

scribbling love notes to Troy Polamalu (LOL!),

Nell

Okay, so here are two scenarios:

In the first one, former Atlanta Falcon Michael Vick has come forward about the dog-fighting charges against him. He apologizes for any wrong he may have committed, and says at the very end of his speech that he’s going to turn his life around, that he was “going to Jesus.” Don’t know if he ever kept that promise, but with him serving time in prison right about now, I know he has more than enough time to work on that relationship.

Now, scenario number two: A former friend of mine (long story about why he’s in the “former” category) got into a fight at work (or rather after they’d clocked out), and it was totally his fault. Of course, he realizes that after the fact, and now he’s in deep shit. So, hours later he gets a phone call from his supervisor (because, of course, the other guy reported him moments after it happened), who wants to know his side of the story. He tells his side, and then mentions how the supervisor “knows him” and “knows he wouldn’t do something like that.” He then goes on to say, “I was raised in the church. You know I wouldn’t do that.”

Right. So because you were raised in the church all of a sudden exempts you from any judgements or wrongdoing.

The point here is that while I applaud anyone who is serious about turning their life around for the better, it’s a totally different story when you come to God when it’s convenient. Like he’s only there to play Capt. Save Your Tail. Yeah, right. So, to make a long story short, said friend was arrested on assault and battery charges the next day, posted bail, went to court, was forced to pay the defendant’s fees as well as his own plus a fine, and was fired from his job (and so was the other guy on unrelated charges, so it was sort of a waste to even go to court on this).

The moral here: Sure, God will be right on time (in this case, making sure Vick’s got a little money in his account when he’s set free, and making sure Mr. Former Friend didn’t serve any jail time), but that doesn’t mean you don’t pay for your actions (hence Vick being in jail and Mr. Former Friend being out of that job and out of my life. But that’s another story).

God’s not a get-out-of-jail-free card.  The end.

Nell

I did a recap of Inauguration Day, but I forgot to mention how the rest of the weekend had gone. But let’s face it; Inauguration Day deserved a post of its own.

Friday: There was the Inauguration Party that the Ques were throwing. I went with a few sorors and had a great time. Thing is, it was 8 degrees out that night, and I’d taken the train to Crystal City, so by the time I got to the hotel I had to sit down and thaw out before texting sorors to let them know I’d arrived. After the chill had left, it was party time!

The Blob was there. That guy I was telling you about. The one who neglected to share important information with me. Yeah. I’m still standing by my orders that we not communicate on the level he’d like until he was ready to tell me everything. But the ice had been broken and was starting to chip away, or at least that’s what he thought. I was serious then, and I’m serious now. I didn’t let that ruin my day, though. I looked great and felt great, so I put it behind me and had a ball.

Saturday: I was texted at the last minute by an old friend from college to help out with a Hip Hop summit as a volunteer to deal with crowd control. The event was for the kids, so the Kennedy Rec Center was expecting a lot of them. The only celeb I knew about was Bow Wow, and he was on the panel with a few other folks and a Congresswoman (her name escapes me). Bow Wow is 3 feet. I’m serious. The kids seemed to be thrilled, but to be honest, I didn’t know anyone even jocked him like that anymore. You learn something new everyday. There weren’t a lot of kids there to start with, so my help with crowd control wasn’t really needed. I stuck around to watch some of the discussion, and left a little early.

But get this, though: One of the coordinators for the event, this Phi Beta, was there and flirting with me throughout the day, giving me compliments and what not. I thought he was cool and figured maybe we could hang out later (but not that day — it was freezing out and I still had research to do), but then before I left I overheard him conversing with some other coordinators and one of the men mentioned an event that he’d had tickets for, and asked if the guy and his wife (!!!!!) were able to get in. The Phi Beta answered. I glanced at his left hand, and sure enough there was his wedding band. WTF? Needless to say, I was instantly appalled. I know enough to say that those types of situations NEVER end well.

If this is what I have to look forward to, I’m never getting married.

I ended up not doing much research for the book that night. It was entirely too cold out — at least 25 degrees — and that was during the day. Two friends from NYC even said it felt colder here in DC than it did up north, which I thought was odd because I always figured it was much colder there. But they went out anyway and said the crowds weren’t that high. I figured as much; no one wanted to venture out in the freezing weather. I’m sure restaurants were packed, though.

Sunday: Went to meet friends at a Women in Media brunch at, ironically, a restaurant called The Front Page. The waffle was great; I need to go back there for the brunch buffet in the future. It was good to meet folks who were in media also, but we were all suffering from the whims of the economic crisis. Some of us didn’t know if we were going to survive the next round of layoffs. Maybe I should get a government job.

Monday: MLK Day was spent at the MLK Library doing We Feed Our People. The difference this year was that another project was going on, sponsored by Feed America, and had a few celebrity guests show up — David Arquette, Ben Affleck, Josh Grolan and Herbie Hancock. There was even a marching band from a school I didn’t recognize, but they were cool. The highlight for me was MLK III. I’d heard his sister Bernice speak in undergrad, and was equally speechless. Something about meeting the progenies of icons.

So, aside from the historical Tuesday, what did I learn? Well, a couple things: while it’s best to forgive, never forget, and never waiver; always check the man’s left hand, and/or if the signs are there, take heed;  it’s always good to have wonderful friends and great support in your life; and make MLK Day a day on, not a day off.

Not quite fighting a cold anymore, but yeah, I need to stay on the Vitamin C.

Nell

After talking mad shit about avoiding the crowds, I bit the bullet to go be a part of history. Hell, I felt obligated to go — for those of us (like my sister in Japan) who couldn’t be there and really wanted to.

I got up at 3:30 a.m. and layered up — three pairs of socks (which did little, but more on that later), a thermal set, Obama T-shirt, jogging jacket, jeans, wool coat, thick scarf and thick hat. I was on the second train heading to the Mall (the first train was full). The subway opened at 4am, an hour earlier than usual, and I got to the Mall at 4:35 a.m. I stood out there until 11:30 am without food (and without going to the dreaded Port-a-Pottys) to witness his swearing in.

When I got on the Mall, I went to the first Jumbotron I saw. Turned out it was a ticketed area. Where the hell were the cops to stop the forty-or-so people, along with myself, that had gathered out on the grounds? But because I knew they’d be looking for excuses to make examples out of people, I left and went to the real General Public area. Of course, there were more people there, but at least I got right in front of a Jumbotron. I was three Jumbotrons from the Capitol, and the crowd of more than 1.5 million people spanned from the Capitol all the way to the Lincoln Memorial.

It was freezing out. Had to be at least 20 degrees if not lower. My feet were like blocks of ice. I had hand warmers that you clench and it gives off heat, so my hands were “okay,” but my feet? I could barely feel them after a while. I even tried standing on cardboard to get off the cold ground, but it did very little. As the sun began to rise, it felt even colder. The wind chill was at 15 degrees. To occupy us, they showed that Saturday’s We Are One concert on the screens. The music had me dancing (if only to keep warm — I’d been jogging in place, stomping and dancing all morning, and thought about leaving three times).

Finally, the concert was over and they showed arrivals to the Capitol. From where I stood, I could see people already assembling anyway. I sat through choir performances as VIPs began to show up. TThere were celebrities there. I could see Beyonce, Jay-Z, Spike Lee, Dustin Hoffman, Steven Spielberg, and a few others on the Jumbotron. No wonder I couldn’t get a ticket.

Then they showed political VIPs. Congressmen and Congresswomen, Senators, governors, the DC mayor. The crowds cheered for the Clintons, the Gores, and Ted Kennedy (I was SO glad he was able to make it), the Bidens, Sasha and Malia. There was silence for the first George Bush, and when George W. Bush came out, there were loud boos and “Na na na na, na na na na, hey hey hey, goodbye!”

But when Obama stepped out, you would’ve thought Jesus was taking the oath. There were cheers and Holy Ghosts all around me. Biden was sworn in first, and we thought Obama was next, but they made us suffer in suspense through a musical selection featuring Yo Yo Ma. I mean, it was a nice piece, but COME ON! I’d been out there since 4AM! GET ON WITH IT! So, finally it was time. I held my breath as he took that oath, fearing that someone was gonna do something stupid. At least let the man take office. PLEASE. But nothing happened. After the Chief Justice said, “Congratulations, Mr. Obama,” I felt like my first child had been born. That was when the tears flowed. That 21-gun salute meant more to me then than it ever had.

But getting home was chaos…crowds not knowing where to go, some subways being used as exits and not entrances, and they failed to tell us we wouldn’t be able to get to some of the ones that were open because the route had been cut off due to the parade.

What should take 10 minutes took 30 for me to get to the subway, but luckily my train was just pulling up when I got to the platform, so I still made it home faster than I thought I would. I watched the parade at home. My heart jumped when the Obamas got out of the car. It jumped again when they got out a second time. I’m like, “PLEASE get back in the car! I don’t trust these people!”

But the day went off without incident, and for that I’m glad. But now I think I have a cough. Great.

Yes I did,

Nell

And the crowds have already begun to show up.

There’s too much to do this weekend, but I don’t plan on partaking in much of it.  For one, a lot of it requires a ticket, and to get those tickets you have to have money and/or connections. For two, most of this stuff was publicized at the very last minute, and thus I can’t participate. Even if I wanted to. But, I plan to get some research in for my novel. I can’t wait!

My intinerary goes like this:

Friday night – party with the Ques. This is one of the cheapest parties of the weekend. While most balls range from $100 – $1500 a ticket, I dropped $40 to kick it in Crystal City with Omega Psi Phi. And this is a party, not a ball, so therefore I don’t have to worry about a gown. But I did find a cute party dress  — for $15! In these times of an economic recession, every bargain is a good bargain.

Saturday – Researching for the book. That means checking out Adams Morgan, U Street and maybe DuPont Circle to find out what the crowds are looking like. I probably won’t venture out until a little after sundown, because there may be a party scene in the book. But I want an accurate description of what’s going on in those areas. I may also check out some of my favorite restaurants in that area to see what kind of crowds are there. Barack Obama was at Ben’s Chili Bowl this past weekend, so I know the tourists are going to be lined up, hoping to get a glimpse of him.

Sunday – Women in Media brunch at the Front Page restaurant. I’m glad they settled on brunch, because at this restaurant it’s only gonna cost me about $10 for everything I want (waffle and water). Plus, some of my friends in media are going to be there, and maybe I can get some connections so I can work full-time in writing or editorial.

Monday – We Feed Our People. Community service project mostly headed by the Ques but has the entire NPHC feeding the homeless. I do this every year. Word on the street is that Barack Obama’s going to make an appearance at some of the community service sites around DC, so that would be cool if he showed up.

Tuesday - ??? I don’t know if I’m going to be able to do Inauguration. It’s TOO. DAMN. COLD. The Metro’s opening at 4am, which means if I want a good spot on the parade route, I need to be on the first train leaving the station. And if I decide to go, I’m not leaving later than that. Also, I’m going to skip the swearing in and just go to the parade. I know I’m not going to get a good spot at the Capitol, so I might as well get a good spot on Pennsylvania Ave. But if I choose not to go, I’ll just watch live from home.

All I know is, it’s freaking cold today. The office must have forgotten that people were still coming in to work, and just kept the heat turned down. This is not cool. And not very motivating, either.

Brrrr!

Nell

Not even a month into 2009, I was contacted by two individuals that I’ve since shut out of my life. They were just too toxic. I don’t know why, but I guess they just felt the need to reach out to me. As if I don’t have enough going on.

Person #1 was a guy I used to hang with, until I found out he was keeping secrets from me. I last spoke to him almost a year ago in February, when I’d texted him with an important yes-or-no question, the former  answer being the most damaging. He never responded. That was my answer. And it hurt. So, I made it a point to ignore him, luckily only having to see him at two events throughout the entire year that would require my avoiding him. But earlier this month, we were at the same event once again, and while I was all set to ignore him once more, he decided to break the ice.

“Happy New Year, Nell.”

Don’t touch me. Don’t even come near me.

I responded cordially. He asked how my family and job were going, and I told him it was fine. He said he was tired of playing the ignoring game (who said I was playing?), and wanted to see how I was doing. I told him I was fine. Cutting to the chase,  he brought up how I’d blown him off the first time I’d seen him since our falling out. “Could you blame me?” I asked. “No,” he said, “I couldn’t. But hopefully we can get past that.”

Right.

After very brief chatter about nothing, he went on to say that while he knew I was just humoring him, he missed our friendship and that I was a very cool person whom he felt he could tell anything.

“Except…” I said, raising an eyebrow.

He flinched. He knew I was right. But he went on to say that even if it were six months, twelve months from now, he hoped that we could one day “get back what we had.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said. “When you’re ready to come clean, then you can come see me.”

He sighed. “Fair enough.” And that was that.

I don’t see things going back to the way they were. Not after how he chose to diss me. Had be been up front, we still could’ve been friends.

Person #2 was my ex from years back. Long story short, things didn’t work out, and long distance and being at different points in our lives played a major role in that. But when he tracked me down on Facebook, I was apprehensive. What was his motive? Was this only going to be more drama? I didn’t know what to think, but curiosity got the best of me anyway, so I added him as a friend. A very limited friend. He could hardly see anything on my page. But two days ago, he contacted me via the IM feature, and said he guessed he deserved the one-answer responses I kept giving him, but that he wanted to put things behind us.  He apologized for how petty and selfish he was after we’d broken up, admitting that it was mostly because there was no closure and things just weren’t settled when it was officially over. I can agree with that. So I guess that means we’re on somewhat speaking terms now.

But in the end, why were these people from my past contacting me? Both these people hurt me. And they weren’t the only ones to do so. Should I look forward to more stress as more and more people from a painful part of my life start re-appearing? Why can’t they stay away? I can count maybe five or six who have really caused me a great deal of heartache, and two of them in one month have struck already. I don’t think I can take any more of my past coming back like this.

Or does it mean it’s time for me to let go and start forgiving? I don’t know. That’s a part of me that I’m working on getting better. I have a hard time forgiving sometimes. Maybe I’ll get better at this. But right now, I can’t bring myself to talk to either person.