Nicole be Thinking...

Last Monday I was told Ms. Scott was in the hospital and it didn't  look good. It fucked up my entire week. Ms. Scott is larger than life,  the best English teacher I ever had. From the time I first walked into  Pearl-Cohn Comprehensive/Business Magnet High School two things were  absolutely certain: I had to get back to California as soon as I  graduated and I had to survive Mama Scott's class to make that happen.  My strategy was to be silent and excel, but Ms. Scott wasn't having  that. She came for me, told me when I was a 10th grader that she was  waiting for me. When I finally got to her class she called me out  regularly. She threw me off the cliff that was my comfort zone, and  then caught me at the bottom. She forced me to shine when I was trying  to down play my abilities. She taught me not to hide my talents, but  not to rest on them either. I'll always be grateful for her. She  taught all of us how to  be ...

I have four brothers and two dads, but only one mother. Growing up I thought I was a "daddy's girl," but that's totally false. I am, and have always been My Mama's Daughter. I love the relationship I have with my mother. No one rides for me like she does. Sometimes I wonder if my relationship with my future daughters will be anything like the one I have with my mom. That always leads me to wonder, which comes first: the mother or the daughter?

Back when I realized that I couldn't call myself a Beyonce fan anymore, I got all nervous that somehow I was losing apart of myself (or some crazy quarter-life crisis bull) and I decided to immerse myself in Beyonce to find out what happened (similar to the way I tried to understand Kat Stacks …) I discovered some things in the process. For one… Her diehard fans are ridiculous. They can't see her objectively at all. They don't listen to music; they listen to HER music, and that seems to snatch their ability to think analytically. They believe her lyrics, print them out, bind them, and regard them as holy. It's hard to read reviews written by these fans because they call her "ahead of her time" right before they compare her to some old artist. They post "BEYONCE IS THE GREATEST, BITCH," on threads about the wackest songs for no reason and with no supporting evidence. At numerous points in this process I tried to use logic on this group thinking...

I was watching Oprah Behind the Scenes . I must admit, I haven't been a fan of Oprah's show for a very long time. I haven't been able to relate to most shows. And that's still the case. But Behind the Scenes is VERY interesting. There's something about watching Queen Oprah sit at this beautiful desk with Stedman's glamour shot on it... Something humanizing about hearing this black woman who brand is both her own and 100% co-opted by white people exclaim in her "black" voice, "I ain't sleepin' outside!" Of course, she's still "on," but it's refreshing. Anywho… There's an episode about her most recent George W. show. She had him on back in 2000 (and probably voted for him them.) Realizing the power of her influence, she makes a point to note that she has voted republican as many times as democrat. That got me wondering if I'll ever be able to say the same. After all… My grandmother is a registered republican,...

How does the saying go...? "Give him too much rope, he'll hang himself..." I can't testify to the validity of that statement, but I can say that I tend to give my significant others a significant amount of space. I thought it was a good thing. Yet... here I am, as single as can be. It's not that I don't enjoy time with my mate. I definitely do. I can be incredibly affectionate. Sometimes I absolutely crave a good cuddle. But... There are times when I just want to be left alone. Or maybe I want him around for company but I don't want to get all... "touchy feely." Perhaps I'd rather be with the girls. I assume there are times when he feels this way to. I'm okay with that. So I let the proverbial rope go. I encourage my significant others to spend time with their friends, on their own, or... however. At first men love this: "Man... My ex was ALWAYS around. I couldn't go ANYWHERE. You're AWESOME." They go out, have their f...

So... My mom called me the other day about my Beyonce/Shakespeare post. She didn't understand my position, which is cool. But she petulantly proclaimed, "You only write for yourself!" It bothered me because in the seven years I've been writing this blog my mother has read maybe seven posts. My inner rebellious 16 year old told me, "You certainly don't write for her…" and fidgeted awkwardly… Being misunderstood is nothing new to me, but it always stings more when it's from my mother about my writing. But really… What's so bad about writing for my myself? When I started this blog in 2004, it was intended to document a pivotal time in my life . It grew into an outlet to help me deal with my crazy ass roommates and a  dramatic boyfriend . Eventually it became the way I conversed with the world because for a while I was only talking at work. Now it's a mix of all those things. Mostly I write to work through a question or issue I have. Someti...

So... some time last week I tweeted: No... I have not lost my mind. I was reading random things about her new album and it occurred to me that I am not looking forward to it. Like... No plans to listen... no download plans... Her single, "Run the World (Girls)," is hella wack. I felt a little ashamed that I had fallen off the bandwagon somewhere. I mean... I AM a Beyonce fan. I grew up on Destiny's Child. (Shoot... if girls today had some kind of Destiny's Child, they'd be more productive and confident.) I defended Beyonce's horrible acting in Goldmember . I purchased Dream Girls  (even though I haven't watched it since theaters...) But though I continue to defend her against haters and dick riders alike, I never actually listened to I Am...Sasha Fierce.  Ever. I didn't even try to. I mocked her performance in Obsessed  and absolutely refuse to watch her in Cadillac Records . (I do not care what you say. I draw the line at Etta.) How can I really c...

19 years ago today, my first brother was born. He is my father's son and he looks just like Bigmama. I don't remember my reaction when I found out about him. My first memory of him is one of his first birthday parties. I remember when my mom took me to see his mom in the little apartment over by the lake. And I remember the first time they left. I was young that first time. In my mind there was just me anyway. I wasn't too affected when this new baby was suddenly gone. But it was totally different when they came back. They lived with my dad so I got to see him more often. We played together, ate together, stayed up late together. I remember walking with his mom to pick him up from Anna Yates Elementary. We bonded. He called me "Sister" like it was my name. In his way, he taught me about sibling pride. I had a brother. Then they were gone again. That was rough. There have been numerous times over the 14 or so years since I last saw him that my thoughts have tur...

11 years ago today, my last brother was born. He is my father's son. He looked a lot like Tonda as a baby, but he looks more and more like his mom as he gets older. Fourteen is an interesting age, especially for girls. Teenage drama was elevated when I found out my dad's too-young girlfriend was having a baby. I was not happy. At all. But whatever ill feelings I have for his mom melted away when I met Monte. He is the coolest kid. He does his own thing. All he requires is a McChicken and Judge Joe Brown reruns. He'll play with you, but he doesn't want you in his stuff. And when he's done playing, he bounces. Don't get it twisted, though. He's sweet and affectionate. When I had chicken pox, he laid with me everyday. His hugs (and all of Quentin Tarantino's movies) helped me more than the meds. He came early -- too early -- and he will need someone for the rest of his life. Our father is 100% committed to him and that's a great thing to see. One day...

My big little brother took the test for his learner's permit. Yes, Daryl wants to drive. It's freaking me out. I remember when he was born. He consumed my life for a while. He slept in my room, I fed him, I changed his diapers. For a while, I was the only one who could make him laugh. He was my little homie. I'm terribly protective of all my brothers. They're all super special, but I have to say that Daryl is a different kind of special. He used to be attached to me. Now he's old. He's a 15-year-old, 6-foot-tall, girl-loving mini-man. Every time my mom tells me something new, I get really nostalgic like he's my kid or something. But the older Daryl gets, the further I get from one of the most pivotal times in my life (which I guess means I'm getting old). But seriously… About 15 years ago, the world changed completely. And since I'm a little bit of a nerd… In constructing my " memory palace ," I tend to refer to this period in my life as ...

A while ago, I saw a tweet about someone getting married to a dude who is "passing" for heterosexual. Of course, having just read Nella Larsen's "Quicksand," my mind is in a very interesting place. With people comparing the struggle for equal rights for gays to the Civil Rights Movement, it made me wonder… Is "passing" for heterosexual the same as passing for white? The benefits of being white in the 1950s were numerous… White people were able to go where ever they wanted to go and enjoy the best accommodations. They didn't get beat for nothing, they didn't have to fear Jim Crow, and they had access to superior health care. Though there were miscegenation laws, they were able to marry freely. Being white guaranteed social acceptance. Now… It's easy to say that no one has to deal with any of that now, but being straight in 2011 does afford a level of privilege. Homosexuals fight for basic rights that heterosexuals take for granted, such ...

First of all... I've blamed every natural weather disaster since 2005 on Al Gore. He brought us that inconvenient movie and the globe has been fucked ever since. But maybe it's me. Great flood in Nashville right before my bday in 2010. Haven't been home since 2008 but while I'm here, the coast is on tsunami warning bc of the earthquake in Japan. Mother Nature must be mad at me… (I'll start recycling...) Now... That's ridiculous, I know. Natural disasters are... well… natural. I guess they just prove that we're not on earth to decide or decipher. Maybe we're only here to deal, do what we're going to do to make the most of everything. I'm ok with that. Also… It's amazing that something that happened like… 6,000 miles away has an effect on us here. From the plane, the waves are small, though larger than usual. I can see the ripples coming. It makes me feel really small. Not in a bad way. A really humbling, deep way. So… back to Nashville I go. I...

I LOVE this song... Like... it makes the favorite of all time list... That real, that deep, that burning, that amazing unconditional, inseparable love That feel like forever, that always emotional but still exceptional love Can’t nobody tell me nothing it is what it is And any mistake you make I, I just may forgive Right now, right now at this very moment I still love her like I loved her then I love her in and out and up and down and round and round and over and over again So rare they swear that you just don’t exist And It’s only one person I can think of that makes me feel like this And I’m a fool, such a fool for you! That deep, that sweet, that something That wet that fire, that powerful stuff That up and that down, that front and that back, baby I can’t seem to get enough Ooo Baby let me do it, let me do it ’til I’m satisfied Baby now please baby I ain’t got no more pride Sweet sugar I surrender, I don’t want no other woman. Baby you win And you ain’t never got to worry, ever got...

I don't like stupid people. This is nothing new. It is important to note here that I'm not talking about people who simply don't know ; they can be taught. No one knows everything. But.. I have a huge problem with people who refuse to know, or those who relish in their ignorance. That automatically makes you stupid. As a customer service representative, I deal with people all day and I'd say about 15% of them are stupid. It's a relatively small number considering how many calls I take, but it has made me sensitive to other instances of stupidity around me. For example... I love watching Parking Wars. It cracks me up. However, I think I watched too many episodes last night because it was starting to get on my nerves. People are always telling the ticketers to get a real job as if they aren't receiving a real paycheck... Arguing with them is pointless. People, you know when you do wrong. Common sense tells you that you can't park on the sidewalk or where ...

Most of you reading this don't know my Sweet Auntie Tonda. She is a very colorful, strong woman. (We often joke that she could have written Linda Blair's lines from The Exorcist …) She wants things her way when she wants them (where do you think I get it from?) and she has a tendency to tell you that. Some people call her abrasive. Vulgar. Mean. Whatever. We love her. And with all of that, she has found a devoted man who loves her and has loved her for about 25 years. Rodney is a special man. He is a large man, big and tall. He has a deep booming voice, a strong presence. He does whatever Tonda wants him to do, willingly. If she told him she wanted tacos from Mexico, he would go there to get them and make sure they were still hot when he got back to the Bay Area to give them to her. He is awesome. To many people, Rodney's devotion to my aunt seems like weakness. Her venomous verbiage emasculates most men, but not Rodney. Some folks may dismiss Rodney as a bitch, but I dar...

2010 has been a good year for me. But... along the way some relationships have suffered. Not the ones that matter, of course. People say friendship is seasonal. I would have to disagree. The people who actually know me are still there for me -- and I for them -- even if we don't talk on a regular basis. It's those people who weren't true in the beginning that fade away when the seasons change. No matter the circumstances, I have realized that I'm not very good at ending friendships. It's not easy for me to call someone a friend. I'm cool with most people but I can count my real friends on my hands. The hardest part of this year was realizing that I was calling the wrong people my friends. One "friend" judged me during a time when I needed support the most. That brought me Facebook drama so I just stopped talking to her. Changed my number and moved on. Another "friend" believes that I try to make her jealous by talking about dudes. She told a ...

Every once in a while, I go through a period of reflection in which I evaluate myself and the people around me. The findings are usually the same. I know myself pretty well. There's always a friend who wasn't really friend who either shows her true colors or simply isn't around anymore. The people who are truly there for me are still there for me, even if we don't kick it often. It's usually a peaceful, naturally-occuring process. Others times it's drama induced. This time... It's a mix of both. I had this period of introspection some time at the beginning of the year. I thought about the things that would fulfill me the most. Decided that I was going to stay in Nashville to watch my brothers grow up. Realized that I could find contentment within myself and I could be domesticated on my own terms. Resolved issues with my oldest friends and was able to come to terms with the fact that we could love each other and still grow in different directions. The drama ...

As a hostess at a restaurant, I see lots of men going to ridiculous lengths to please women… I ask [what I think are] simple questions and dudes go crazy: "Would you mind sitting on the patio?" "Oh, uh, um… Well… I don't know. It might be too cold for her…" "Do you want to sit at the bar?" "Wow… The bar? It's up to you, honey." "The wait is 20 minutes." "Whooooa! 20 minutes?? I need to ask her first." The looks of panic I have seen in response to my [basic] questions would have you thinking I made an indecent proposal… Seriously dude? Is it REALLY that serious? Just make a decision! This awkwardness alarmed me, so I consulted my favorite expert on masculinity, my biological dad. He blamed the weirdness on "crazy feminists" who demanded to be allowed to make their own decisions. He says women want to have it both ways: they want to be in charge, but they don't want to be held accountable. He claims a...

I was looking through my Strunk and White (because… yeah… sometimes The Elements of Style is Sunday reading…) and I started think about how awesome we'd all be if we followed all those rules. Then my brain went on this tangent about how I don't follow all those rules and how the book is called "Elements of Style" not " Rules of Writing" and how a lot of people can't keep that stuff straight anyway and specifically how most people use commas completely wrong and how that screws up most essays and papers… ( whew… ) People hate commas. Why is that? I love English (but I am by no means a grammarian.) I don't use commas correctly 100% of the time, but I like them. They're not as difficult to use as we make it, and I think simply correcting one's comma usage can vastly improve one's writing. So… Periods tell your brain when to stop. (Or, as my over use of the ellipsis shows, when to trail off in thought…) Commas, on the other hand, tell you...

...how to write and format works cited page? Granted… MLA was revised in 2009 and different disciplines use different style guides, but how do you make it without it looking at least familiar to you? …how to write [or even recognize] a thesis statement? We learned about topic sentences and thesis statements early on. Topic sentences guide paragraphs and thesis statements guide entire papers. I mean… That's the basis of every paper I write. The three-part thesis statement is the essay formula I was given. How can it be that you were ever asked to write an essay without being taught how? …anything about ANY black writers? I'm not talking about knowing full bios. I'm not saying you have to have even read anything by one. But what's your excuse for not recognizing Maya Angelou? I mean… She was in Poetic Justice ! …how to use the index of a book? The professor gave a list of terms and said they're all in the textbook, though not all of them are highl...