girl monday

I keep hearing/reading stories about how someone visits/moves to the South, orders a Coke, and gets asked “what kind…Coke/Sprite/Dr. Pepper/etc, etc; and are dumbfounded. Now, I know that “Coke” is pretty much the general term for soft drinks around here, but I have never, in my almost 29 years in South, had this happen to me, or witness it.

I’m starting to think you’re all fibbers.

You know I’ve always found implying that I look pregnant is the PERFECT way to woo me. Seriously, you all should try it sometime. I respond favorably and will want to date you…seriously.

Oh, and when you see that you’re not getting anywhere…be sure to ask if it’s because you’re black. That always makes me want to date you. Dude, seriously, you could be half-plaid, half-polka dot and I still wouldn’t want to date you. Get over yourself.

I was having such a good day until about 3-something. Stupid-ass opposite sex.

I miss my childhood bedroom. My second fourth childhood bedroom; I don’t really remember the first others. It had pink walls. A heavy, dark brown wooden closet door. A fireplace that never worked. Two doors, one leading into the living room & the other into the tiny hallway. I never really could use the door leading into the living room. My parents put their “music center” in front of it.

It also had a row of windows that looked out onto the front porch & the street and another one (window) that looked into the neighbor’s house. I could never really enjoy the front windows as the neighbors across the street liked to shoot at each other & sometimes other people. I became pretty familiar with my mother screaming for us to get down on the floor and to the back of the house.

We lived near the fairgrounds & always looked forward to the fair coming, even if we didn’t always get to go. We always got to walk there when we did. We also got to call the police on people who insisted on blocking driveways every year. We watched the circus parading down the street from the railyard one year. It was wild watching all sorts of animals that I’d only seen in the zoo walking down the main street by my house. And then, I peed in my pants (and on my dad’s neck) and we had to go home.

I would fall asleep to sounds of freight trains barreling through. Whistle blowing full-on, nonstop for a few minutes. The rhythmic sound of the wheels on the track; some sort of sweet, ghetto lullaby. The screech of the brakes puncturing the tune…

[unfinished]

One of these I’ll relearn how to stand up for myself.