In Case Of An Emergency….

I should put one of these in my purse.

I’m pretty sure I have one of the shortest contacts lists in an iPhone ever. I do not save numbers if I have no intention of calling the person to whom they belong. I never have. I also don’t answer the phone calls of unknown numbers. By unknown, I mean numbers that aren’t saved in my phone. I know. It’s just what I do. I wanted to give a little background on my telephone habits before I delve into what this post is really about.

I don’t have my mother’s phone number saved in my phone. Not my Gigi, the woman I call mommy. Why? Read the second sentence of the first paragraph. I know that some people will shake their head at me for this completely logical use of logic (hehe). Save your judgement. I don’t call her. I was waiting on the elevator and thinking, like thinking people do sometimes. I had a lightbulb moment.


Not having my mother’s phone number will save my life in the event of an emergency.


Feel me, people.

There are people that we call in case of an emergency. We put all of their contact information on all paperwork. These are the people that we call whenever anything bad/crazy happens. Our close friends/significant others are aware of who these people are and how to get in contact with them if ever necessary. I have these people. For most people, the emergency contacts are their parents. Perfectly normal.

I definitely need to add something like this to my phone.


If I were ever in some type of  accident or my health becomes compromised, it would make perfect sense for whoever is near me at the time (or the person that finds me in distress) to try to contact a parent after calling the 911 folks. If I’m out of it, more than likely the person who finds me will go through my phone looking for someone to call. Life/society/the fact that there are an abundance of single parent households has trained our brains to scroll straight to the M’s searching for “Mom” or an equivalent. This contact is non-existent. Such a good thing.

My mother would be not one iota of help in a bad situation. In fact, she would cause an entire tangent of  an emergency on her own. The dramatics would be at an astronomical level. Whatever information that needs to be obtained from a parent in an emergency, would not come from her. In fact, there would be no point of asking any questions because she would be too busy shooting questions at you to hear anything. These questions would have nothing to do with the situation at hand. No, that’s too much like right. Not having my mother’s number avoids any potential of madness.

If I’m ever in a predicament and a family member needs to be contacted, I’d say call my sister. A stranger wouldn’t know I had a sister though, so scroll down to “Daddy”. He may not answer the first time you call. Call back. His phone will probably be on vibrate, or he’ll see my name and assume that I don’t really want anything. If he still doesn’t answer, I hope I’m conscious enough to give instructions to scroll down to “Gigi”. They’re connected at the hip. She’ll be helpful, she’s a doctor. Call Brandi last. She’ll be a basket case, but she’s important.


The Right Words At The Right Time

Taking a break from The Bonnaroo Experience. I’ll be back with part 3 on Thursday. Today I had to share what was on my mind. 

How is that people know exactly what to say? Not just what to say, but they have the most impeccable timing. How? Where am I going with this line of questioning? I’m glad you asked. I want to know because it happens to me all the time. And I always want to ask the person speaking to me exactly how they knew that I need to hear the words.

‘After a great dinner and plenty of conversation, my daddy (the greatest man in the world) called my sisters and I into the front room of my Mama Nola’s house this past Sunday for a “talk”. I won’t lie, I was terrified. Our little family talks have a way of morphing into these overly dramatic tear and snot fests that Dr. Phil would give his left nut to have filmed in front of a live studio audience. This talk was no different. But before the waterworks and raised voices, my dad dropped a bomb on me.

That bald head man looked me square in my eyes and said to me every single thing that I’ve been thinking, well attempting to avoid thinking, about myself for the last few months. And I couldn’t do a thing other than nod my head. I can’t stand him.
After Sunday, I can’t act like I don’t know that I’ve been settling. I can’t continue to settle. I have to do something about it. Anything. Merely stating that I”m trying to figure out what that step is will no longer cut it.

A friend told me (on the very same day) that God places everything we could possibly need around us, but it’s our job to open our eyes and look for it. I haven’t been looking. At all. I also haven’t been asking to be led in the right direction. Not doing my part in the least bit. Expecting my purpose to be spoon fed to me instead of discovering it for myself.

So, thanks Daddy. Thanks Friend.

A Song For Saturday

I’ve mulling over what song to choose for this week since last week. Right now as I’m typing, I have no idea what song will be at the end of this paragraph. This week has been up, down and all around. I’ve been frustrated to the point of wanting to say fuck it all. I’ve been on cloud nine for my friends and their accomplishments. I’ve been bubbling with ideas and nervous about taking steps to make them reality. A complete rollercoaster. What song out there in the world describes a rollercoaster? I don’t know. I’m not about the rollercoaster life though. I’m learning how to chill out and take things as they come, but never stop planning and preparing for the future. 

I’ve finally decided on a feel good song, which is appropriate since I can say that as of this moment, that’s exactly how I feel. And I’m going to try to keep this feeling. I’m alive and in good health. My little family unit has a roof over our heads and food to eat. And we’ll be welcoming another member any day now. I’m happy.

Happy Face. Enjoy, it’s a throwback.  Sidenote: I had floor seats at this concert, and had a ball.


I Wanna Be A Billionaire….

Soooo freaking baaad!!! Ok enough of the song. I wouldn’t spend my money on the crap that Mr. McCoy raps about. Who wants to buy a basketball game with the POTUS? Oh, wait… He thought that random basketball with the nation’s leader came with the territory? Ha! Poor misguided soul.

Honestly, I don’t even want to be a billionaire. I’d be happy with a couple of million. Assuming that I received this money from one lucky nickel machine in Vegas or from the a power ball ticket purchased out of sheer curiosity, how would I spend my winnings? The smart way.

1. Pay off all debt. This has always been first on my list if I ever happen to come into a large sum of money, no matter if it’s from the lottery or anywhere else. If that takes up all of my itty bitty winnings, so be it.

2. Buy my daddy a Jaguar. I love Jaguars. It is, in my opinion, that car that symbolizes class. My daddy needs that car. Of course I’d do other things for him as well, but i haven’t decided what since he now comes as a two person package deal. (I see those judging eyes. Keep em to yourself)

3. Buy land. Build a house. Build other houses on the land for my family. It would be like a compound, and serve as a permanent family reunion site. And when friends came to visit there’d always be a place for them to stay…. that isn’t mine. House guests aren’t my favorite thing in the world.

4. Invest. I would want to remain wealthy. I’d probably hire someone to do all of the investing for me. I don’t understand the stock market at all.

5. Enter my dream career. If I’m not already doing something that I’m completely passionate about, I would drop everything and do it. Whatever it is. Right now, I don’t have the slightest idea what that would be.

7. Go on an amazing vacation. I’m pretty sure that my dream career will involve me traveling the world.

8. Pre-pay for my children’s’ nieces’ and nephews’ higher education. Well… not pre-pay. I’d set up an account where money can be deposited, but only transferred out to an accredited institute of higher education. I refuse to allow them to blow college fund money on crap.

What would you do if you came into billions of bucks?

Brace Yourself! But Not THAT Much

I spend more time bracing myself than what is healthy. You know how people tense up in preparation for an impact that they see coming? I do the exact same thing mentally and emotionally almost every day. The problem lies in the fact that I don’t know what’s coming or exactly when it’s coming. I just make sure that I’m always prepared.

I never get too comfortable with someone: the next blow may be that they’re no long in my life. I never stop looking for jobs: I could lose the ones I have, or have my wages cut suddenly. I take all promises with a grain of salt: the promisor could very well not mean any of it. The same goes for conversations and plans for the future with others: I do not know what tomorrow holds. Anything could happen.
I am not a pessimist. I’ve developed this habit because I hate the feelings that accompany the impact. The disappointment, stress, sadness etc. I want to be ready for them all in advance which will make working them will be easier. Well, that’s my logic anyway.

There is a slight problem with this lifestyle I’ve chosen. It is hindering me from fully experiencing and enjoying things. I never bask in the moments of my life because I’m too occupied with ensuring that I’m prepared for them to end. I taint great memories because I feel that I need to accept that something so great may never happen again. I’m too busy planning how I’m going to pick up pieces that haven’t even fallen. I spend way too much time thinking about “what if” scenarios. I’m starting to become defeated before there’s even a fight.

I know that I should be prepared to an extent. I’m not wanting to live some care-free life, or frolic around like I have no issues. I just don’t want to think so much that I create unnecessary problems.
Isn’t this what God is for? Shouldn’t my faith take care of this? I think so. I’m hoping that as my relationship with God grows, my need to stay ready for impact will diminish.

5 Things To 5 People

I’m on a roll this week!! I’ve found that my lovely father has grown fond of commenting. I don’t mind, because I know that he doesn’t expect me to begin censoring myself.
Onward with the post!

Keeping with the usual humdrum around these parts, I have another list. This time it’s a list of people. Well, a list of things that I want to say to a list of people. Wait, why am I explaining myself?

1. Did I do something to you? Like personally? Because I’m thinking that there has to be some reason for the sudden change in attitude. I’m also thinking that I’m not going to ask you why you’re mad, or why you’ve chosen these actions to show me that you’re upset. See, I’m not that interested. I’m shrugging you off.

5. I’m choosing my words carefully, because my daddy has been adamant about my consideration and word choice for the past few months. I will say this:
You don’t know me. You have yet to try to get to know me. You only know what others have told you. Your attempts at being nice fail because I don’t care about how much money you have or can spend on trips and clothes in stores that I will never have an interest in shopping at. You have repeatedly been the reason for more tension than a little bit, however intentional or unintentional it may be. And although you may mean well at times, you suck at showing it. You also should accept that your way is not the only way. There are always other options. Pouting does not look good on grown ups. Well, it’s ok for me because I don’t really mean it. Also, just as an FYI, I’m stubborn which I know isn’t a good quality. This means that I’ll never make an apology if I don’t mean it. Asking will be in vain.

4. Dear everyone. I’m fine. I don’t want to talk about it. If I did, I’d call you and talk. I’ve never been a talker; so don’t act like this is new.

2. Why are you so cool? Why do I like talking to you so much? Why do I want to know so much about you? These are the questions that I ask myself all the time. Questions that I don’t have the answers to, and don’t need. I am perfectly content. Although everything isn’t ideal, I am content. So expect more from me. You told me that it would be an uphill climb. I’ve never been one for strenuous exercise, but I’m so down for the challenge.

3. You should be happy that I’m not a man. You should be very happy that I’m not a man. You should be happy that I don’t live where you live. If I lived, and I was a man, I’d kill you. I don’t play around when it comes to my family. Apparently you think that hearts are footballs that you can toss around for entertainment and then leave out in the yard. Oh, but once you get bored again you’ll go out in the yard and rummage through that grass and weeds for that abandoned deflated football. Ready to play.
You need to find another heart to play with, a heart that is not in my family. Because if you fuck with this heart in particular, put a bruise on it, deflate it any more than it is, I will pretend I’m a man. But remember that I’m a woman, so my wrath will not be normal. Think: SNAPPED.