Tammy: Row I Seat 5
Wednesday, I had the chance to drive down to Atlanta (alone) and see John Mayer in concert. The concert was cool but I’m not about to sit here and recap the concert. Although I will tell you that I was jamming. Which is a complete shocker to anyone that knows me. I barely will move in front of people I know but that night I had my little two step going but again I’m not talking about that.
I want to talk about Tammy, the strawberry blonde lady that sat in front of me. I was sitting down in my seat rubbing my green overpriced t shirt I bought coming through the door and Tammy came down the aisle. She came in already tipsy, huge red drink in her hand, and she said something really powerful when she was making her way to the end near me. “Blah. Blah. Blah. He jipped me. He’s down on the floor and I’m up here but I guess I’m here so I should be happy.”
Intermission comes. Tammy asks me if I want a drink and to watch her things. Besides exchanging names with her and a couple huhs because she kept trying to make conversation during the opening act while bootlegging the entire show (I mean she whipped out a camcorder. She wanted to remember this night. Although, I don’t know why.), I didn’t really speak to her. She trusted me anyway. I politely told her no thank you. The responsible thing to do. I’m alone. Female. Pre school rules will always apply in life.
Tammy came back with two more red drinks. The cups were larger. She sat one down in the cup holder and nursed the first one. I stared at her like wow. Really? Granted it was St. Patrick’s Day but two at once? She was also trying to get the guy she came with attention but he was ignoring her something fierce on some floor seat snobbery.
Halfway into John Mayer’s set, I start reading Tammy’s texts because I was obviously alone. I wasn’t talking to the two white girls next to me so it was easy to figure out and she had this strange zip lock bag laying in her F.R.I.E.N.D.S. purse.
A couple of drunken I love yous. I know how that is.
Few minutes go by, John is ending Gravity so strong with the extra playing of the guitar and ..wow Tammy tossed all her cookies over the railing. I’m sure she threw up on a couple people. She’s sitting there going through her purse trying to find something to wipe her mouth with. I’m trying to pay attention to what John is saying but I can’t help but look down at her now fumbling with her phone.
Come get me. Sick. Section 112. Row I. Seat 5.
The next thing I know Tammy is getting up and leaving.
I think I enjoyed the lesson in that so much more than the concert itself. The opening act was wack. John only played four of my favorite songs. Some of the songs I deleted off the ipod because I never listened to them. There is a couple things that sticks out:
1. He bought himself floor seats and sat her up with me. I wasn’t that far off. We could see fine. I didn’t need to be able to catch his sweat with my tongue but Tammy was on a date.
2. He totally ignores her the entire concert.
3. He makes her pitiful sick behind get up and come to him.
A man that puts himself and his needs over his woman or the woman he claims to have interest in is no man at all. Selfish people don’t deserve such a nice woman (or possible killer) like Tammy. She didn’t even know until she got there that she wasn’t going to be sitting with him. Who does that? Who doesn’t come and check up on the woman that they left alone. At least come see if she’s okay. Why is she even searching for you? Looking all crazy talking to every stranger that’s in arms reach. Then she tells you she’s sick and the last three seconds of this concert is that important that you couldn’t get up and make sure she’s okay. Forget that you had her thinking she was going to be able to smell John’s balls and you ignored her the whole show ..it’s the least you could have did and I know you saw that woman waving her hands wildly and heard her scream your name.
Just disrespectful.
I don’t want anyone like that. Selfish tendencies that it’s always about them, what they need, what they like and what they do. I don’t think it’s very adult to think that everyone is supposed to cater to you and your needs. If I’m alone come and check on me. If you don’t hear from me get nervous for me and when I’m sick nurse me. At least come over to the rail and talk to me from there while still watching the show. I’m not needy. I just need for you to care about me. I’d need for you to show and tell. Don’t sit here and treat me like some stranger bitch.
Be honest, if I was an afterthought tell me that. Tell me you just had to buy me a random ass ticket from the man playing the harmonica in true crackhead fashion outside of Philips Arena when I wasn’t looking. Don’t have me sitting here thinking I’m about to find out what genius balls smell like.
I think Tammy did a couple things that led her to stumbling back to the car. For one, she didn’t cuss him out. She didn’t make him feel bad. She bought a drink and chugged it down and tried to reason it in her head. “At least I’m here.” No fuck that. I’m grateful but you’re going to hear my mouth. You act like you don’t care. He’s going to think you don’t care and not bother to even change the treatment. If I’m the girl you’re dating and I know my supposed position, oh, you’re going to hear my mouth. If I’m just a chick you brought to the concert I’m going to be very passive aggressive and not even talk to you because I feel like if I’m not “with” you I’m not allowed to complain like I would want.
Why should I even have to go through all of that? You mean to tell me you couldn’t sacrifice floor seats just to spend time with me? You had to smell the genius’ balls that bad? You couldn’t sit up with me in Row I Seat 4 and hold me from behind while John opened up with Heartbreak Warfare? You couldn’t save me the depression of being alone and chugging down drinks to drown out what I feel inside while I watch the couple next to me enjoy the companionship that I desired?
Nigga I’d key the fuck out of your car. Slash your tires and hop on fucking MARTA and be on my way. Okay maybe not all of that but I swear to God I’d roll past your house and put bologna slices on the hood of your car and melt the paint off that bitch so you can roll around with patches of paint missing so you could feel half of the embarrassment I felt when my feelings came rushing back up during the amazing performance of Gravity.
It started to feel personal for a second but really if you’re that type stay the hell away from me!
Self Affliction.
Before I start this I have to say that I do this too. We all do this so I’m not trying to act all holier than thou because I’m blogging about it but maybe during this I can really understand myself more and help you understand the things you’ve been going through also. Maybe, I don’t know. I was reminded today that sometimes in life we are the cause of our own problems and we make ourselves lose our way. God does it sometimes but often times we are the ones that causes all of the pain in our lives. I’ve been trying my damndest to keep my assumptions/opinions to myself because sometimes people want to argue with you and I don’t really give two deep thrusts to be arguing about it because it’s not my life but really I’ve noticed especially in my circle of “friends” that it’s mostly us doing ourselves in.
Example:
Girl likes guy. Girl sees guy everyday and doesn’t speak but girl gets mad because guy doesn’t approach her. Girl gets constantly depressed about not being in a relationship and doing everything she sees other girl’s her age do but she never initiates anything.
I used to be this way all the time I’d see this guy. I’d daydream about a life I could have with him. We might speak or whatever but I don’t make any moves to approach him. He doesn’t make any moves to approach me. Maybe he doesn’t like me. Maybe he does and he’s scared to talk to me too (because guys get scared too.). However, it doesn’t go anywhere. At some point, you have to place the blame on yourself and drop the excuses.
“Men need to step up and be men.”
“If he liked me he’d step to me.”
“I’m shy.”
Your unhappiness is because you are stopping yourself from being happy. Recognize that everything that you’re saying is an excuse. Not a valid reason. You’re scared. It’s normal but to grow you have to stop being scared and go after what you want or guess what..you’ll never get it. Unless you plan on waiting forever. I read that before you’re born you choose what body you want, what problems you want to have and things you want to overcome. This is your problem. Overcome it.
When I did it. I realized that I didn’t even like the guy and I started liking the guy that I love now. Well I didn’t even have a choice with that because I was seriously smitten. Mmm. Mushy moment.
I don’t really feel like doing more examples about other people but I know that with me now like I’m learning to be secure in myself. I think I’m awesome. Beautiful personality. Most days I think I’m gorgeous. Some days I’m comparing myself to other people and I feel like I’m lacking tremendously. Every time I talk about the guy that I love I always throw in that I’m not what he wants. I’m always downing myself. Preparing myself to be let down.
Preparing yourself to be let down is preparing yourself to make yourself be let down. Does that make sense? You’re giving yourself the go ahead to ruin it.
When I’m wondering how he feels about me and I might get kind of sad about it I can easily get that answer by asking but I don’t. So I cause that pain for myself. I’m sad for no reason but I won’t ask because what if he doesn’t (Debbie Downer) like me. If five months down the line he gets a girlfriend I can’t get depressed either because I caused that pain for myself. I could have asked. He could have said no. I could have been moving on instead of stringing myself along dreaming about a man that I’ll never have. I’m queen of excuses. Please believe it.
It’s a lot of examples of this, another one could be that most people are so used to drama being in their relationships that when a guy/girl comes along that isn’t about drama but about loving them. It scares them so they run from true happiness because they think that being happy equates to a relationship full of passionate drama. Your heart getting broken. Your crazy stalker situations are because you keep choosing wrong. You don’t step back and think about the choices you make and really take in the situation.
Most of the time, we know. We know it’s something that we need to change about us because we keep getting this same result. We keep causing ourselves pain. We keep saying that we want this type of person but when we get that person we find so many faults in them that we dismiss them completely ignoring the fact that we’re heavily flawed too. The person might not be the right color, size, economic background, smart enough or whatever and we will dismiss them. Financial attraction is not enough. Physical attraction is not enough. Intellectual attraction is not enough. You have to be willing to compromise yourself, your pride and your beliefs. You have to be willing to let some of yourself go and allow yourself to be dependent on the other person. You have to be willing to tell someone how you feel. You have to be willing to let this person hurt you, love you, encourage you. You have to be willing to compromise your controlling attitude or else nothing will work. You will be alone.
You can’t complain about not finding work when you don’t fill out job applications. You can’t complain about not having not enough adventure in your life when you refuse to live outside your box and explore life. God gives us pain we have to overcome but we give ourselves pain too and we have to learn to stop that. We have to learn to step back, analyze what we’re doing, where this can lead us and decide if that’s where happiness is.
Some people just got to be willing to be happy.
Some people have to remember that pain and suffering is a constant thing. It will never end. We will always have our ups and downs. You have to compromise. You have to be willing to take scary chances in order to be happy. My mom told me, stop telling yourself you are these negative things. You’re putting yourself in a box that you’ll be scared to get out of.
I’m scared to get out of my box because I don’t know how to be anything to anybody and I don’t think it’s safe but life isn’t safe.
Am I making sense? I feel like I’m typing too much. I went to church today. I learned something. Smile for me.
Note: I didn’t mean to make this all about relationships but..I don’t know..
The Masterplan.
I met the cutest little girl today named Carson that reminded me that I want to be a mom so badly. I’m turning twenty-two this year and my mom had me when she was twenty-one. Not that I desire a kid right now but it just makes me think about everything. Am I late? No really am I? Majority of the people I follow on twitter has kids and half the people I know or remember from high school has kids or is about to have one and here I am with a goodie bag full of virginities. They have their own places, jobs and cars. I’m stuck in this dorm with my goodie bag and my ipod full of John Mayer (Note: I need to add the rest of Battle Studies on it.) with nothing to do on Friday, Saturday or Sunday besides entertain myself with oldies but goodies on the record player and watch bootleg movies in my panties. Not that I’m complaining (cues: Perfectly Lonely) but when I look at everybody around me I’m like damn what speed is my crazy ass moving on? Most people think I’m saving the goodie bag for marriage but I’m not. I’m saving it for.. well we won’t discuss that.
I have a plan. It’s a sucky plan but a plan nonetheless.
1. When I graduate I’m moving. Where? I don’t know yet. I saw this apartment in Seattle with a white couch, big window, hardwood floors and damn near lost my mind. I did the same when I was looking at houses here in Chattanooga. I lost my mind but then I realized I didn’t want to live here. I probably don’t want to live in Seattle either. My heart is telling me Philadelphia or San Fransisco even though I don’t think it rains much in either city and that’s a requirement. Rain. Google says it rains a lot in the south. I’m not trying to continue life in the south. So I’m moving. That’s a part of the plan. Save money. Move.
2. Career? I want to do something creative. I don’t know yet. Probably be somewhere writing something for someone or working full time at someone’s something. I have no idea. I care so little about money. I just know I be needing it and I want to keep stacking my paper.
3. I want to travel. Everywhere. I don’t how these poor white people do it but I want to travel. They be every fucking where with no money! How do you fucking do that?! I want to have someone backpack through Europe with me. I had a dream I went to London and they were having a concert in the ocean. Random.
4. I want to find someone that loves me enough to want to marry me and forfeit the wedding jazz. I don’t want to be bothered with wedding stuff. I want someone willing to drive us to Vegas, go through the drive thru, kiss and be on the Santa Monica pier “honeymooning” by sunset.
5. I want three to four kids. Not soon after marriage because I want to learn to be a wife before I learn to be a mother. Hopefully majority boys. I can barely wash my fro so my daughters would be screwed. I want to be a mom’s mom. Leave It To Beaver shit. Entertaining to my kids and their friends. Open. Honest. I want to be my kid’s best friend and also the one person they fear. I want to be super supportive too. I’m the mom with the athlete son’s face on the front of the t-shirt, face painted with jersey numbers, and the main one telling the referee that he’s a dumb fuck. I’m the one at the art show telling everyone my daughter’s the best thing since fucking Picasso and you ain’t gon tell me no different either. I’m the mom at my son’s talent show bragging about his range to a complete stranger just trying to enjoy the show. I’m probably going to be less sensible than my husband so if you hurt one of my kids I’m probably the one with the shot gun. Chocolate perfect hell raisers are what I want. I plan to have a blast with my kids teaching them how to do everything I’m learning to do now..however if they come near me with some math..I’m going to hit them with the book.
If I’m old and lonely, I plan on having six cats, a mouse, 5 dogs and a bird name Charlie who talks too much and escapes his cage a lot stealing my peppermints but I won’t be old and lonely so there is no use for that back up plan.
Did you know that by the time you turn thirty half your eggs are gone? I’m almost twenty-two so that must mean my I’m rotting on the inside. I suck at math so you tell me how many of my eggs are M.I.A. now? I don’t want to be an old mom. Old mom’s are subject to have messed up kids. I am too impatient for regular kids..I can’t deal with “the others.”
I hate making plans because the only plan that matters is God’s and he refuses to email me a copy so I’m stuck with this one.
It’s late. I forgot what I was talking about.
via Blackberry.
As Honest As I Can Be
Today. I called my grandma at work so she can get this information for my financial aid. So she tells me bye and then her coworker kept telling her she had something to tell me. I’ve been knowing Judy since I was young so I wasn’t giving the phone too much side eye. I still didn’t want to talk to her ass though but anyway she kept relaying messages to my Gram and I was like I really don’t care. Do you need anything else for those forms?
Then she passed the phone and she told me that Jackass was getting married. My initial response was to smack her like I don’t like him being brought up. Period. I don’t talk about him and if I do it’s nothing good. Why did I need to know he was getting married? I honestly could give two fucks and a half because right now I’m happy.
I’m happy where I’m at. I’m in love. I don’t know how he feels about me but that’s fine. I honestly don’t think I’m what he wants so I don’t bother asking. What I do know is that when I hear his voice it does something to me. When my phone lights up blue and green I’m smiling. I know that he wouldn’t lie to me. I know that if he says he’s going to do something that I can count on him to do it. I know that I can be myself with him. I’m not afraid to talk about all the things that I’m into voodoo, tarot cards, and psychics. I love that I can tell him silly things to do and he’ll try them. I love that even when I don’t want to trust him ..I do.
He’s getting married but what he has with that girl cannot top what I feel right now. Even if I don’t get what I want. Even if I’m not what he wants. Even if we stop talking to each other tomorrow and my phone doesn’t light up blue and green anymore and there are no more nights filled with play agains, shit talking and random conversations it would all be worth it. Worth knowing that whether or not I want to trust someone I do and knowing how a real man treats people. That’s all worth it.
I want more but if this is all I get then its worth it.
She said he’s getting married and I hung up on her but I should have said I’m getting records in the mail this week. Thirty. They might be broken but they’ll be special to me. I’m planning to glue them and put them with my other records and one day when I’m in the place I decide to call home, they’ll be lined up on my shelving from Ikea, and even if I don’t get what I want from this feeling I’ll look at my broken records and enjoy the memory of putting them back together.
I feel so good.
Via Blackerry.
I'm Diana. Fuck The Supremes.
Tonight. I lost a friend. I think? I don’t know but the real fucked up thing is that it seemed like I lost a “girlfriend” instead of a friend with the way she was acting. I’m not mad. I’m not angry but seriously…
I hate people in my space. I’m super super ignorant when it comes to my space. I need people to know when I want them to be in my space to be in it but when I want them out of it to disappear. I know that’s hard to understand or deal with but those are my needs. Sometimes I want to be bothered. Other times… It’s like forreal? Why are you here? Why are you talking? And after I tell you to get out of my room the first time and you’re still here trying to get points across I get easily angry and then if you keep pushing me I get violent.
Tonight. I felt like the way she was acting was a bit psychotic. First, she came in asking me to rate our friendship on scales one to five then she came back and said she lied. Then she was mad cause I rated our friendship poorly. Why ask if you want me to lie? I won’t lie to you. Then she came back with, “Why are we friends? Why are we roommates? Why are we even at the same college?” Then after that she started knocking on my door. That lasted for 10-15 minutes until she got the hint.
Now I can’t leave my room without her feeling the need to have a conversation with me. Or touch me. Its really stupid. She tried to hug me..I’m like get away.
I realize more and more everyday that there are some people I should have in my life and there are others that need to go away.
She definitely needs to go away. She was ignoring me.. mad for no reason.. Tuesday-Saturday. Saturday she wanted to talk and be buddy buddy and now that I’m not responding in the ways that she wants she’s acting out? Dear God, stab her in the forehead!
I seriously wanted to strike her. Kill her. All because she was refusing me my space. The space I pay 2k per semester for. Then my personal space..if I’m denying you visitation then you have no rights to touch me.
Let’s talk about something else.
Thursday, I told someone I was in love with them and I think that could be about the stupidest thing I ever could have done. Not that I lied but because nevermind.
Let’s talk about something else.
Today I made my first steak with love. Medium rare. Do you know how hard it is to make something taste like love? Like your favorite song or the chills you get when someone you care about says they love you. It tasted like that. It did. It really did. It reminded me of the feeling you get when you hear that someone’s voice. Light butterflies. Nothing heavy. Not the full feeling. The feeling like you’re about to burst at the seams but love..
Let’s talk about something else.
I turned in my non fiction story for class and I am so nervous about it. Everyone that said they loved it said I have nothing to be afraid of but still..folks lie. You could be wearing a tutu, some cow boy boots and a corset and niggas will tell you that you are sharp as hell. Liars. Even though every part of me was in it (obviously..it’s non fiction) I don’t think it was ..right.
Let’s talk about something else.
I’m getting a wig so I can be Diana Ross. I’m a star. A Diva. I need a wig because I’m bald and I can’t fling shit back but air when I’m singing.
Let’s talk about something else.
I want to live in a city where it rains a lot. I want a big window that looks out onto the city in my living room and I just want to sleep on my records like pillows. I want to live across the street from a butcher. I want him to know what I like and how I like it. I want us to be on a first name basis. I want three kids because it makes the odds better. I can’t leave my old people years to an aint shit heathen. I want my white couch and hardwood floors. I want a love supreme. Someone that can keep me happy just by blinking..just by existing. I want imperfect perfection.
Let’s talk about nothing else because my hands hurt. If you see a typo point it out.
via Blackberry.