You can thank Martin Luther King Jr. for this post

Well, you can. You can thank him for a lot of other things like being a major influence on the civil rights movement but for right now, as you're reading this, you can thank him for this update.

This long weekend I've been making great use of my time. Since I now have cable (moving on up in the world), I can now watch shows other than The Office and Charmed re-runs on Netflix, which I've been doing since about August. As it turns out, TV still sucks even after you give yourself a 5 month break from it.

Along with watching cable, I've been forcing my homebody boyfriend to explore the city. When I say "force", I mean gently but persistently encourage him. He's not a fan of crowds or public transportation, but I could really care less about that. If I'm living in a city, it's just something we've both got to get use to and so far he's been a good sport.

And another New Years resolution that I've been starting to work on is spending more time with my dad - who I don't talk about much on here. You hear about La Madre, which she loves because in her mind that makes her a celebrity, but my dad deserves shine too. This weekend J and I went on a "double date" with him and his womanfriend. You would think it would be awkward but it wasn't. . .just 4 adults talking and enjoying good food. Gahd, am I getting old? That statement sounded old.

I feel like  I spent so much of my life trying to get older and now that I'm in my 20's. . .I'd gladly give back like 2-3 years. There are obvious pros to being over 21 though. Still trying to figure those out.

Why the Real World doesn't care if you were Prom Queen

After spending an extended weekend back home in the 'burbs for Thanksgiving, I took full advantage of my time with my twin little brother and sister and reminisced about my high school days. They're going through the insignificant but common teen stage where they just want to fit in yet want to stand out - but in a good way. It's all "so very complicated" and I "just don't understand". Talking to them about what they really want out of life, their feasible hopes and dreams or even something that isn't on BET's 106 & Park is kind of like trying to teach yourself sign language. It's a cool idea at first, but then you realize that you might only use what you learn maybe twice again in your life if you're lucky. And no one will be impressed.

My biggest message to them was that who they are in high school (they're 15) will in no way, shape or form dictate who they'll become in 10 years. Unless, of course, they're on heavy drugs or currently dealing with teen pregnancies, which neither of them are. I wanted them to know that they had time to think about how they wanted to be perceived by the world. If you're not planning on going pro, it won't matter if you played varsity or JV lacrosse in high school. Yes, you'll meet some great people and learn the value of teamwork but said people probably won't associate themselves with you after you graduate. Sorry, but it is what it is. There are those rare occasions when you actually do keep in touch with your highschool buddies, though . . .do any of you guys still speak to people from when you were younger? I'll wait.

I figured the sooner they came to terms with this, the better. I know how important it is to be liked when you're surrounded by your highly judgmental peers on a daily basis but I promised them these people will not matter. Your junior prom queen may have it all together now spending daddy's money and struttin' a body that's about 5 years too developed but after you graduate, no one really cares if you were prom queen.

Trust me, I know.

No, I was not prom queen - ew! But I am incredibly perceptive and great at starting conversations. I did a crapload in both high school and college, made friends with the people who were "destined for success" and can I tell you that the only people who really care what you did in high school are the unfortunates you'll find frequenting the same bars? In that case, and that case only, being an alleged prom queen may get you a few drinks.

I tried explaining this to them and do you know what my little brother told me?

He asked me to post his tumblr on my blog. Apparently, he's "Tumblr Famous".

I wanted to go on a rant about how no one cares if you're 'tumblr famous' either but then I remembered that they are the next generation. Maybe they care. For now at least.

Why my mom shouldn't be texting

I'll admit that I'll respond faster to La Madre's texts than I would to her non-existent phone calls (apparently, she can never find the house phone), but I need her to learn some texting etiquette. Textiquette, if you will. Just a little, not a lot.

This is because I love you, Mom.

Photocredit

This picture in no way, shape or form meant to represent how my mom looks. She's actually a fairly young mom  - not like a regular mom, like a cool mom. For the purposes of this post however, it does accurately capture her relationship with her cellphone.

Rule 1 - You can't. . well, shouldn't text sentences one at a time. Unless you have some horribly limited character count (which you don't) on your cell phone, you can just send everything at once. That way my phone doesn't have to vibrate constantly for a

text that's

sent

like this.

Rule 2 - I've said it before and I'll say it again -- when you text in caps, in tech-speak, you are yelling. I know you're not really such an angry person but that's because I'm your daughter. Others (like those who you e-mail) might not be as forgiving.

Rule 3 - I want to say 90% of the time, when I send you some version of an emoticon you have no idea what's going on. You think it's a code or a typo. Or this:

La Madre: My boss sent me home early because I was sick

Me: Uh oh :O

La Madre: What is that? a monster?

La Madre: How did u get it?

La Madre: Waaaaaaaaa :(

I'm just going to put it all on the table for you:

:) Smiling

:( Sad face

:o) Me being 'cute' and smiling

>:(  PISSED

O:( Innocent Nhya

>.< Frustrated Nhya

:O Shocked and Appalled Nhya

-.- The face I make when you ask me to help you make a Facebook

It would be so much easier for me to express myself to you if you'd kind of. . I don't know, study these? Just a little, not a lot.

Rule 4 - If you call me and I text you and then you call me again, I'm not going to answer. Let's just get that straight from now. I'm probably not in a place where I can talk (like work) so a series of texts asking me why I can't pick up the phone will only be answered with texts, never a phone call. 

Hopefully this will help not only my mom, but parents across the nation who are dealing with a communication barrier between themselves and their children.

So 94 years, huh?

You don't mourn the death, you celebrate the life.

(GG is the hottie sitting down ;)

That's what I'm telling myself, anyway. It's weird being that person in the room that people don't know how to act around because they just lost someone.

This morning my great-grandmother, who we nicknamed "GG" passed away in Jamaica. My immediate reaction was one of depression and anger because I wouldn't be able to say goodbye to her since I don't even have a passport, nor do I have the money to travel overseas. I kept thinking about the last time I had seen her - four years ago? 4 years ago I was nothing like I am now. I was 17, spoiled rotten, and such a little ball of fire combined with this know-it-all attitude.

Then I remembered that even though that was the last time she physically saw me, we had spoken on the phone since then. She had told me only a few weeks ago how proud she was of me for being the first in my generation to graduate college. She told me to "keep sweet", and she had even spoken to J (even though I was panicking about that too because she was under the false impression that we were engaged, but whatever). Now looking back on it, I'm glad she had a chance to speak to him. She had no idea who he was but loved him just because he loved me, lol.

Part of me wishes I could tell her how sorry I am for not calling more often, and when I did call for only speaking to her briefly because I had difficulty understanding her accent. Part of me wishes I could tell her that I'm not angry about my 13th birthday and that the 8-weeks I spent with her in Jamaica - complaining non-stop about the heat and mosquitoes and overall lack of civilization at the time - was actually one of the greatest learning experiences I've ever had. I wish I could tell her that I'm going to take care of my grandmother, who was like her best friend, and that I promise, promise, promise I'll learn how to cook.

Even though I can't tell her these things, I want to celebrate the good from her life. She was 94-years-old when she passed away. That means she had 94-years with her daughter, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. She was the kind of person who I never looked at in terms of her age because she was always so lively. She was never one of those people who you'd dread asking how they were doing because they'd go on and on about all the pain they were in. She was always so independent (runs in the family) and would instead want to talk about how you were doing.

My siblings and I would always joke that GG was going to outlive us and while we knew this wasn't realistic, we still held onto that belief because it brought us peace. Now that it's happened, I'm just reminding myself that now she's not in any more pain. R.I.P, GG.

Flashback: How he met my mother

To anyone who even remotely knows my family or who has met La Madre once (that's all it takes), they know that I get all of that dramatic blood running through my veins from her. I'm pretty sure that I'm the only one out of my siblings who took on that trait - oddly enough the rest of them are incredibly normal, mentally and emotionally healthy young beings. Go figure.

My boyfriend, being the astute individual that he is, learned more about me from 20 minutes with La Madre than he did in 3 months with me.

Photo credit

After much protesting and a little bit of using sex as a distraction I realized that I couldn't hide my family from J forever - especially since he had gone out of his way to integrate me into his. I decided that for his own safety I'd have him meet the whole crew in increments. Starting with the Boss herself. He thought my apprehension might have been because of the whole racial difference thing, but I assured him it was just because, no matter what race you were, my family could be too much for regular people.

Their first real meeting came when, against my better judgement, I thought it would be okay for J and her to hang out at the mall while I got my hair done. Because I only go to a certain salon for a certain thing, and because my hairdresser moves like a wounded turtle, the ordeal was taking up to 2 hours. I was panicking. He wasn't answering my texts, phone calls, or those special mind controlling signals I try to send out to him. I tried calling La Madre. No answer. It boggled my mind that they could keep themselves pre-occupied for so long. Then it hit me: she was talking to him about God only knows what.

Just as I was about to call my brother to get him to call La Madre, J shoots me a text saying 'hey'.

Me: r u ok?

J: Yea, y?

Me: because u haven't been answering me and it's been 2 hrs. and u could have died.

J: lol

Me: I'm so serious.

J: I'm with your mom. How much longer?

Me: another 20 mins.

J: damn!

Me: r u suuuuure ur ok?

Once I was finally finished getting done up and we were all heading back home I got them to tell me what I'd missed. Apparently, they were now really good friends. They'd eaten lunch together, browsed the mall (I'm sure J looooved that) and did some light shopping. It sounded like a date I'd enjoy and I was a little jealous, until he handed me this manicurist set he'd bought for me on a whim, and then I lightened up. The important thing was that it didn't appear that his opinion of me had changed which meant La Madre had been on her best behavior. No third degree? No questions about your retirement savings plan? And she didn't ask you if you had a single uncle? Okay, then. I'll take it.

Just as I'm relishing in the thought that all parties might have gotten though this unscathed, I make some comment that I can't even remember which triggers the crazy in La Madre to come out. Maybe I said she was driving too fast or asked for something, whatever. It was kind of like opening Pandora's box and as I'm trying desperately to close it, things are spewing out. Before I know it she's telling him how much she loves us and how she's sacrificed so much for her kids and wishes I would come home from college more to visit. In between sobs and steering she's turning back to me and telling me how she just wants the best for me and really wants to open up a baking business.

I know just how to react in this situation - you have to match her crazy with crazy - but because for whatever delusional reason I'm holding onto the chance that J might still like me, I don't say a word.

When we finally reach our destination, she gets out of the car, gives J the biggest, most somewhat questionable hug and tells him to call her 'Mom'. I'm dead.

Once she drives off I ask J, with my head down, if he still wants to continue the relationship. He actually thinks for a little bit, but then laughs and says he understands me a lot more after having met my mother. I tell him that I'm no where near as emotional as she is and he tells me that we're a lot more alike than I think.

I mean, I guess.

DISCLAIMER: Now I'm not saying that La Madre is certifiable crazy, by any means. She's actually the most self-less, caring, sensitive, annoyingly creative person I have ever met. She's got so much life in her that she almost doesn't know how to contain it all so she shares her dreams and aspirations with me, urging me to live my life to the fullest. My mom's biggest issue in life has always been her running on her emotions - and that's it. When she's happy, she's ecstatic with big smiles and tons of affection. But when she's not, the world might as well have just ended because her world did. Logic? Irrelevant. It's something you get use to. I think her bipolar characteristics could lead those on the outside to think 'somethin' ain't right', but I promise you, it just takes some getting use to.

In fact - think Tammy from Basketball Wives, only MUCH less hood unless she feels completely comfortable around the people she's with.

(In case you haven't seen the little tab to the left of your screen: follow me on Twitter. I follow back! & let me know so I can add you to my nifty little 'blogosphere' list)

Feliz Cumpleanos, Gems!

So today marks the 15th year my baby brother and sister and favorite Geminis (aka "The Twins") have been on this earth. It's pretty insane how quickly they grow up. Don't believe me? See for yourself.

This is them at age. . . err. A while ago. They were babies. And they were BAD.

And this is them now . .

Siyed

Siajah. And some boy who's arm shouldn't be around her cuz she's TOO YOUNG.

See what I mean?? When did they grow up?

Apparently they're too cool to go by their government names on Facebook so Siajah is "Sage" to you and Siyed is "Teddy", lol.

Happy 15th Birthday, Munchkins!

Do me a favor and. . .

• Graduate college

• Don't get arrested. Or pregnant.

• Don't drive mommy crazy. Seriously, once you guys are out - she's free. She's so close.

• Say no to drugs and all that.

• Keep pursuing those dreams and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

• Be better than me. Well, try to :P

Sidenote to readers: I will check out blogs, respond to comments, follow back, etc. probably Monday-ish. It's been a busy weekend. I lost my damn mind at Victoria's Secret Semi-annual sale today and tonight I'm in the city. I however, did not forget about y'all! Thanks for the support! Oh, and I'mma finish my challenge, lol. I'm like. . .a week behind. Whatever.