Sometimes...things change.

Sometimes you have to fall back to come up. You may have to stop speaking to be heard. You have to disappear for people to really see you. Sometimes the most productive way to stay social is to be anti-social. And sometimes you have to treat someone like an associate for them to understand your friendship.

Lost in the World

Imagine a world of chaos and a woman determined to write about it.  He said he was the headache and the aspirin.  He didn't lie. People always say they don't know whether they're coming or going.  I'm always doing both and yet, I remain totally cognizant of that fact.  It's a choice.  I know that now.  I chose the headache and the aspirin.  The poison and the antidote.  The torment and the salve. The crux: Stay or go?  I never know.  But win or lose- I'll write it all. 
It's not often I hear lyrics that sound as if they were ripped covetously from my brain.  But every now and then...

You're my devil you're my angel
You're my heaven you're my hell
You're my now you're my forever
You're my freedom you're my jail
You're my lies you're my truth
You're my war you're my truce,
Your my questions you're my proof
Your my stress and you're my masseuse.

Lost In The World - Kanye West

Thriller in Manila

I wasn't looking for them. As a matter of fact, I wasn't even looking for the box they were nestled in- waiting to be found. I was just there to pick up a few odds and ends to bring to my new digs. It's weird. The way the past can sometimes drift out to you from forgotten boxes. It peels your eyelids back and turns a crank in the brain that you long believed was rusted from disuse. But belief is a peculiar thing. I didn't always know that everything begins with just that. The slightest speck of belief. The tiniest iota of intangible hope wrapped gingerly in a ribbon of faith. Everything is as it should be. Once the clicking in my head stopped, there they were. All of them. Lydia. Rex. Stacy. Champ. Vincent. Nalia. People on paper I assumed had died or withered away with time and circumstance. Characters who were balled up and tossed before they ever had a chance to be fleshed out- but somehow missed the waste basket. There must be reason. I'm sitting here, pondering what to do with these people. Their stories. My story...but not entirely. I suppose I never stopped writing it. I just needed to breathe. Open up the door on my chest. Step in...have a look around. I got so lost there. Living, loving, learning. Drinking in moments and drowning in real life; that I'd forgotten my obligation. It's akin to birthing a child and forgetting to feed it. How does that happen? She wrote, "I mean, you've been through a lot and fought and lost and fought and won." I knew it was it the truth when I read it- but I honestly never viewed it that way until then. It matters not how the ball was dropped. It is my duty to pick it up with both hands and hurl it around the globe, or at the very least- as far as belief can carry it. And now, after meeting them all again in that manila envelope, I remember my obligation to write their story. My story. But not.

Entirely.

Soldier

There is foolish pride. And then there's the other kind. The wise kind that is seamlessly attached to logic and self worth. The kind that in the past, caused me to turn sharply at so-called authority figures and say, "There is no desk you can seat me behind. No telephone you can ask me to answer, that will allow you to speak to me that way. There is no paycheck you'll ever cut that can make me forget who I am. Know that." It was received with raised eyebrows, yes. But at the end of the day- everyone knew where they stood.

And that's really what it's all about, isn't it? Knowing where you stand. Sometimes you show others. Sometimes others show you. Once it is known, the proper moves must be made. I may not step as surefooted as a mountain goat or swim adroitly through choppy waters, but I know when to move accordingly. To my own rhythm.

I once read that the hero and the coward do not feel any differently at the moment of truth. It's what the hero does and the coward doesn't that defines who they are. I know this much to be true; I am not always equipped with the right weaponry. It truly is the strongest soldier that dares to die unarmed. Courage is only the second the second virtue of a soldier. Endurance is the first. I have fought the good fight and lived to write about it. And it would be impossible to soldier on- if I knew not where I stood.

"In the front line of this battle of mine. But I'm still alive."

~Sade Adu

In light of recent events

Okay people, I have to say before I get into this- that I was strongly advised not to blog about the following topic. Very seldom do I ask others what they think of my sharing certain aspects of my life on here. When I do, I ask those whose opinions I respect. Right. Respect, but do not necessarily always heed. It's times like this that I always remind them that the blog is called This Bug's Life and make a pointed decision to type on defiantly. I am not afraid to show the cracks and the flaws...except for the infamous ass crack of course...and that little thing I've considered laser surgery on for years now. Those things are taboo and shall get no burn on this blog. But I'm all for laying the rest of it bare, including my own character flaws- if it means bringing me closer to understanding myself and helping others by the same token.

Alright, if anyone's been paying attention, it doesn't take much to see that This Bug is a fighter. The self proclaimed One Woman Riot did it again...almost. And I have to say that I'm quite proud of the control I exercised the other night. There will be no changing of names to protect the innocent or the wimpy. I will spare everyone the juicy mundane details and simply relay that my patience outshone my temper when my kindness was mistaken for something else. To be confronted by a lifelong passive-aggressive bubblehead who wouldn't know tough if it checked her on the chin- was laughable. Entertaining at best. Did the girl deserve to get her ass dragged down the street and handed to her in below freezing weather? Affirmative. Did I take the high road? Yes I did. Have I forgotten the directions to the low road? Absolutely not. But picking your battles is a part of growing up and I realize now that some people will inherently feel your presence while wasting immeasurable energy trying to do otherwise. Silly mortals. I don't know why they do it to themselves. What I do know is that my words and movements are genuine. So...


You may question my logic all day, but you can never question my sincerity. I don't make enemies. I finish them.

Weapons of Self Distraction

At the bottom of an empty shot glass lies splashes of gold Tequila, remnants of bitten lime and mounting disaster where quiet was once poured.

Liquor makes you quicker. By then, it matters little that you are slow to anger...which I am not. Fists are balled into avalanches that will not stop. Shafts of white heat stab in and out of cognizant thought. My chest is warm now. My head, God help it, is expanding and contracting like malcontent rubber bands hellbent on violent release and revelry. Eager to snap. This is personal. This is physical. This is liquor making it quicker. Bringing all the unsightly things to the surface like lesions. Not even the bouncers want to get involved.

If the enemy of the enemy is my friend- why is it so hard to be good to my friend? Could it be that I am my own worst enemy? I am spoiling for a fight in which no one can be crowned victor. We are unworthy opponents waging war in ignoble battles.

It's burgundy now where glittery, sand colored shadow was brushed on earlier. The lid, wanting ice but puffing up defiantly, tells on me. There is no make-up to conceal my shame. My wanton ways, temper now tame.

A reminder that a shot glass, let alone four, need not be drained into an empty stomach and heavy head.

Hair We Go Again

It's no secret that I'm what you would consider a Low Maintenance Girl. I don't like having my nails and feet done. I have never once tweezed, threaded or waxed my eyebrows. I detest sitting in hair salons because it feels more like a chore than pampering. That being said- my time is running out. Part of the convenience of not being in the corporate world for almost one year was that I didn't have to fuss over my hair. I could leave the house with the wildest, untamed mane and no one would bat an eye. Well, the winds of change are blowing. I recently interviewed with a company that clearly values a neat and polished appearance...and I think the job is all but mine. (Stay tuned and I'll give the update as soon as I get the verdict.) Anyway, this leads to a new dilemma. I've gotten way too used to my freewheeling, natural style. Hair maintenance is work! I don't want to work! Not on my hair, anyway. I'm just beginning to return to my natural texture without any sort of heat or processing and now I may have to go back to the neat look that I recently discarded. I've mentioned before that I feel more like myself when my hair is wild and curly- and it's true. In the past year I've transformed into what I can only describe as a free-spirited 70's woman in style and mentality. I just want to create. Books, families, ideas, meals, poetry, etc. And I don't care what I look like while doing it. Well, that's not entirely true. I just don't care to look all "put together" while doing it. Contrary to what my dear friend believes- I do not collect antique curling irons from Ebay. I hate rollers, blow dryers, hot combs and flat irons. Those instruments now resemble Medieval torture devices to me. So here I am on the brink of a new beginning career wise- and the crux lies before me. To perm or not to perm. To curl or not to curl. I don't have the energy. I just want to show up and let my work speak for itself- not my hair. One thing is for sure; part of the reason my sister said she hardly recognizes me of late is because I've elected to go natural. This from the girl who visits the Dominicans for the bone straight blow-out at least thrice a month. Later for that! I haven't decided just yet what I'm going to do with all this hair, but I can tell you what won't be happening. There will be no half bald missions À la Cassie any time soon. Wish me luck!

Calamity Jayne Rides Again

Lately, I've been really pissed off. In the past few days I've done everything from curse out wack drivers on the road, snap at friends and destroy property that was not mine. I could chalk it up to good ole PMS a.k.a Potential Murder Suspect- but that would be a cop out. For some reason, I cannot pin down the object of my rage. And that bothers me. Right now, anybody can get it. So as an exercise in damage control, I've elected to leave alcohol alone until this ill-tempered spell passes. If not, it can really pop off. I can feel it. According to Nas- a glass of 'ze make a man Cassius Clay. If that's true then a bottle of Nuvo makes me Riddick Bowe.

I'm going to be honest here and admit that I'm disappointed in myself. For years I've worked tirelessly on controlling my temper. Mostly because I understand that whoever angers you; controls you. And I like to remain in control. Plus, assault charges are not a good look for This Bug. Counting backwards from ten just isn't working for me these days. I want to whoop somebody's ass. Plain and simple. I'll go one step further with the honesty and say that if I lose the fight- perhaps that will calm my hotheaded ass down for a second. Who knows? All I know right now is that I have a blood lust that seems unquenchable. Ah, what to do? Violence is not the answer. Laughter is the best medicine. With all these clichés floating around- maybe I should seek some middle ground while I ruminate on the funniest quote I've ever heard from one of the angriest men I can think of.


"I might just fade into Bolivian." - 'Iron' Mike Tyson


C'mon. You know you're smiling...


Out.

If nothing ever changed, there'd be no butterflies

It was brought to my attention the other day that no one really knows what a butterfly goes through on it's way out of the cocoon. It may quite possibly be the most painful and laborious change before its emergence as a beautifully colored, lighter-than-a-feather, winged creature. I don't know much about butterflies. Alas, the blog is called This Bug's Life not This Butterfly's Life. That doesn't even seem to have same ring to it, really. But this is what I do know about butterflies...I know that the original name for them was actually Flutterby and I know that once their wings have been touched- it renders them useless. They can never fly again and die soon afterward. Those are two very interesting facts to me- since I find myself going through my own transformation of sorts.

I won't detail the changes right here and now, but I will be forthcoming enough to say that I feel a tremendous emotional growth taking place. The things that would have bothered me previously are making their way underfoot where they belong. I see things, myself and others through such a different light these days. I can recall past events with alacrity- now devoid of the cynicism that so often accompanied those memories. It doesn't happen overnight. I know this. But I feel the shift.

As arduous as some of these changes may be, I know all of it brings me closer to what I am ultimately supposed to be. A beautiful creature, bright colors abound. Free to flutter by and fly. Touch the warmth and float above the grayness that dooms most days. But after seeing what those days had to offer- it should come as no surprise that these changes are inevitable. Watch the cocoon closely for the Black Butterfly that is This Bug.

Divine Intervention

“Sometimes questions are more important than answers.”

Yesterday, I opened Pandora's Box. Secrets and lies freed themselves on jagged little wings. They flew out in a flurry- blinding me like bats escaping a cave. I covered my eyes, tried to protect my face. When I recovered my hands were nicked with blood. The finding was unspeakable. Not awe-inspiring like that which filled Marsellus Wallace's briefcase. This was something scarier. Out flew the kind of evils that have always existed, pining to be unleashed. Waiting to plague all that is good and bright and promising. The kind of things that crown you Queen then dethrone you when you least expect sedition. I am a stranger in a strange place now. But curiosity cannot maliciously kill a cat that was always marked for death. It is a noble death indeed.

"Love" Lockdown

In the blogosphere, it's all about sharing. This Bug is going to talk about something I promised to share earlier last week. My self-imposed celibacy. I was in my early twenties and just ended a long term relationship. It was an amicable decision and I was looking forward to being by myself for a while. Everything was going well. I really wasn't interested in meeting anyone new. Casual dating was never really my thing, much less casual sex. So there I was, going about my business- finally reconnecting with myself without the distraction of a relationship. I read more books, saw a ton of films alone and starting writing what I consider some of my better work at the time. It was really going well until...I started to get that itch.

All of sudden, I began to think deeply about sex and how much it meant to me. Since I was no longer in a steady relationship, the pickings looked slim. My train of thought was this: I will not back peddle to a previous partner, as easy as that seemed- and there was no way I was going to meet someone brand new and just give it up. I know it might sound prudish- but This Bug cannot just freak off with any ole person. I have to feel a connection more strongly than just pure attraction. Sharing my body with another was never something I took lightly. So what was I to do? Well, "self love" was definitely an option. I have a friend who always said, "When you ain't got a man- you got a hand." Funny, because I always thought in response to this, "But...a man has a hand and it feels so much better than my own." But I began to ruminate on the purpose of sex outside of how good it felt. I'm not a religious person by any means- but the idea of an act to procreate was always in the back of my mind. I thought about my last relationship and how much that person was not "Baby Daddy" material. (I say this because at 22, marriage was not at all on my to-do list.) Then it dawned on me. The person I sleep with could potentially be linked to me for life if we were to have a child. Did I want that? My internal answer was a clamoring HELL NO. But shit happens. In the heat of the moment, your body might scream out HELL YES instead, or the condom breaks. Why would I want to risk any of that with some random dude I met at the club?



Anyway, my No Sex thing went on for roughly ten months. The first six were a breeze. By the last four however, even the broomstick looked good. I began to really understand how a man could look at some random woman and instantly think of tappin' that ass. Men were like nicely fleshed out mannequins to my eyes. I thought about warm breath against my neck. The powerful feeling of a torso between my thighs...it was agony. I missed breaking a sweat with someone besides myself. But it was never far from my mind that I could give in any time I wanted. It's general knowledge that it's easier for a woman to get down than it is for man. It's the Vagina Rule- I have the vagina, so I make the rules. We need little more than opportunity- which can be created out of thin air. We go through dry spells that can easily become monsoons with one phone call. When I finally did give in- it was after I found a sense of peace within. I was ready to share myself again because I understood how much I had to offer beyond a pound of flesh. I would recommend this to anyone, male or female- regardless of orientation, since it gives you time to reexamine what matters most to you.



In case anyone is wondering, that first session after ten months was like the first time all over again. They don't call it Born Again Virgin for nothing...and the magnitude of that Big O was a 9.9 on the Richter Scale- believe that!

Mr. Good-For-Something

All snowed in and everywhere to go. I hate this. At this very moment, there's approximately 8-10 inches of snow outside of my door. Yes, I am officially snowed in. Which got me to thinking about men and their usefulness. As a lady, if you have a "manfriend" who comes through on the regular and handles his business- is that all that he's good for? I mean, can he change your windshield wipers or that hard-to-reach light bulb if needed? Don't get me wrong. This Bug is very self-sufficient. There have been plenty of things I've done around the house for myself mainly because I live by the "Act As If" credo. The premise is simple. Act as if this help is not readily available and do it yourself. If the undertaking proves to be too great to do alone- only then do I employ the assistance of another. And this has been my train of thought for as long as I can recall. Before I ever had a car, I had every public transportation schedule known to man because I didn't want to rely on anyone for a ride. It's not that folks are entirely unreliable- I just don't like to impose on others.

But every now and then, a man comes in handy for certain tasks. It's nice to know that while he may be able to "lay the pipe", he can also snake the tub without you having to call Roto-Rooter and come out of the pocket. How's that for double entendre? Besides that, there is something sexy about a man who is good with his hands. It shows a level of well-roundedness. And if that fantasy was so far-fetched, there wouldn't be so many adult entertainment films that begin with a Handyman ringing the doorbell of some scantily clad housewife, now would there?

Anyhow, like I said, I'm officially snowed in. Do I have someone to do the plowing, so to speak? Well, I'll say this much- I can handle 8 inches, just not 8 inches of snow. So that problem will resolve itself soon enough. But seriously, Ladies. I suggest making sure that the man you have around can take care of things that are needed firstly- and can then take care of you. And if you run down your checklist of his skills and abilities- and find that he comes up short- that is a clear indication that you should learn how to do some "manly" things for yourself and/or sack Mr. Good-For-Nothing asap. (One last sack won't hurt anyone, right?) I'm not saying that every man has to be Bob the Builder and Lex Steele rolled into one. (You're gonna have to Google both of those references on your own if you're in the dark, by the way. No links here, Kiddies.) It's just that if he's not good at many skills- he better be good at one, feel me? You weigh it out. It's all about choices. And Fellas, now would be good time to cop a Home Improvement for Dummies book... just to up your stock a bit. That's my two copper coins on this matter.

The Ugly Truth About Cyber Creeping Pt. II

Hello Boys and Girls. If you're just tuning in to the Cyber Creeping discussion- stop. Click here to see where it all began and then head back over. Okay, now let's resume our topic.

If the communication eventually leads to meeting up in person- this 'innocent' little correspondence has already snowballed out of control. Let's examine a few things.

1. Both parties know full and well that their significant others would not appreciate this little tete-à-tete.

2. Harmless flirting = Huge oxymoron. Whether the intentions are to boost your own ego, see if you "still got it" or manipulate the flirtee into something more- the flirter is fully aware of those intentions and possible consequences.

3. The parameters of cheating differ greatly from person to person. I've heard some ridiculous justifications in my adult life. Things like oral sex not being considered cheating because actual intercourse did not take place. Then there are the folks who think secret emails are a form of cheating. Whatever the boundaries may be, these definitions usually aren't drawn until that forbidden Blow J or Inbox thrill takes place. By then the damage is already done.

4. If you are constantly covering your tracks by clearing internet history, password protecting every movement, feverishly closing tabs or abruptly shutting down the PC when Hubby or Wifey walks in- you know you're up to no damn good.

5. Sooner or later- this online subterfuge comes full circle. Someone, if not all everyone connected is bound to get hurt.

Now, This Bug is of the personal belief that an emotional affair is just as harmful as a physical one. An online correspondence can spring into something deeper if those involved are not careful. Why? Because if you are already in a "real life" relationship- you have unwittingly invited a third party into it with simple flirting potential. The truth is that there is no escape from reality. While you're busy fantasizing about the person on the screen- real life is going on at home and that is probably what requires most of your attention. If there's trouble in paradise, seeking an outlet with that online flame is not the answer. Don't make the mistake of discussing your real life relationship issues with your Cyber Buddy either. This gives them an even greater foothold into your dealings. The danger in that is that this person starts to look a lot like the solution to your problems- when nothing could be further from the truth. This person can make you feel like you're walking on sunshine when in actuality- they can be whomever they want to be with you. I mean, we all know the dangers of strangers in chatrooms- but it doesn't stop there. You stand to open Pandora's Box with someone you think you already know.

So the next time you run across someone and decide to innocently play catch-up, be sure that it stops there. No need to exchange IP addresses or any other address for that matter. Remember Boys and Girls, before you hit send- trouble can be just a mouse click away.

The Ugly Truth About Cyber Creeping Pt. I

Hello Boys & Girls. Today we're going to talk about cyber-flirting, cyber-cheating and the thin line in between. Technology allows for those lines to be blurred significantly and some of you may not know how to discern the two. No worries. This Bug has a few theories.

Let's say you create an account for one of those nifty online social networking sites a'la Myspace or Facebook. At first it's okay. You're still learning how to navigate the damn thing and don't spend much time on it. Then gradually you begin to have many blasts from the past. People you haven't seen hide nor hair from in eons are suddenly a keystroke away. What fun! This is kinda cool after all. It's all going along smoothly- just something you log on to when you're bored. And just when you think it's safe- that certain someone pops onto the scene. You may just be going about your everyday business, or you may be secretly hoping this person has gotten with the times and also signed up. It may be an Ex from back in the day or someone who always ran in the same social circles as you- but you never quite crossed paths. Whatever it may be, it starts out harmless enough.

There's the whole "Hey! How have you been?! Wow. It's been forever!" catch-up followed by glossing over some very pertinent details of one another's lives. This person may be married, engaged or involved in a committed relationship. It may or may NOT be common knowledge...Now pay attention because this is where it gets tricky. Playful banter can easily slip into something more serious.

If one or both parties are in a "real life" relationship- no matter the state of it, they may find themselves escaping real life through this cyber connection. Suddenly, they are logging on at inopportune times to check their messages. Signing on late at night because they simply cannot wait until the coast is clear. They may send thinly veiled signals to each other that may not be visible to the naked eye. And just like that; the birth of the Online Affair.

The trouble with the Internet rendezvous is that the gravitational pull may be too strong for one or both parties. Sooner or later, plans to meet up in person eventually come up...

*************Stay tuned for Part II*************

Photo Courtesy: Getty Images

Two Can't Play That Game

I'm quick to tell anyone who will listen how much of a competitive person I am not. It never bothered me when my side lost a volleyball game in gym class. I never huffed and puffed when I lost a Chess match, Spades game or any other competition. Mostly because I know that whatever I took on, I gave it my best effort. If it was not meant for me to win- so be it. Better luck next time, Champ. It does not mean that I'm not a winner of my own account by any means. That being said, I wish to delve into another realm in which I absolutely refuse to compete.

This Bug will not battle with other women for one man's affection. I find it futile mainly because if a man wants to be with you- he will. I see no reason to jump through hoops, give ultimatums or convince someone why I would be the better choice. If you're not at the forefront of his mind- chances are he's just not that into you. I have to shake my head when I hear songs like Mary's I Can Love You Better or worse yet, Mokenstef's He's Mine . Really? "You may have had him once but I got him all the time." That's what it's come to? Damn, are pickings that slim? I should hope not. To me, there are so many men out there, that to focus on one who has no idea which side of the fence he'd rather be on is not worth the stress. Somewhere out there is a person that knows exactly where they want to be. No strings attached. No cake and eating it too. As a matter of fact, that type of behavior takes the cake and comes back for the plate. To paraphrase Gordon Gekko, greed is not always good.

I don't want to come across as self righteous, either. This Bug is not ashamed to say that I have been the other woman in a previous life. I wore that hat. It's not cute. It wasn't until I realized my self worth that I put a cap on vying for a taken man's love and affection. Suddenly, 'playing my position' was not an option unless the position was the star player. Waiting around for a man to decide that he wanted to be with me and only me seemed degrading. I'm an all or nothing type of girl. I know what I deserve. Anything less than that is unacceptable. When someone really wants to be with you- they will clear a path to make that possible. And once that path has been cleared, they will not jeopardize it with outsiders of any denomination.

To the ladies I say this: If he wants you- he'll do what he has to in order to make that possible. You are the prize. If he cares, he will not allow you to feel insecure about other women floating somewhere in the background. Don't wait around for him to decide how spectacular you are. Know it already and treat yourself as such. It is more than okay to parry a guy's advances if his movements are not genuine. And please, keep it grown and ladylike with other femmes. While it may be true that some things are worth fighting for- scratching and hair pulling should be a very last resort. That will only make you look silly and you're likely to break a nail. It should never be a competition. Even if it means totally removing yourself from the equation. Be mindful that if you step aside and he does nothing, it simply wasn't meant for you. Don't play games.

To the fellas I say this: Be honest...with yourself first and then with others. While the juggling act may work for a while- sooner or later, everything can hit the floor if you're not careful. Leaving you empty-handed (and dry-Willied, at least for a while). Whatever you do to get the girl is what you'll have to do to keep the girl. Let your actions speak for themselves. If you're not willing to give a girl what she deserves, don't waste her time. It's not fair to her, and you stand to rack up demerits in the karma department. Don't play games.


Anyway, this one's for guys and gals...There is still hope for those who play their cards right. Wait, did I say cards? That implies games. Scratch that. Just watch and listen, People. You too can feel this way.



Just do the right thing. At the risk of sounding redundant, I implore you all not to play games. Unless of course, it's Naked Twister with that special someone who knows exactly where they want to be. Right hand blue, left foot rrrred... and just like that; everybody wins.

I (never) got busy in a Burger King bathroom

Through pride we are ever deceiving ourselves. But deep down below the surface of the average conscience a still, small voice says to us, 'Something is out of tune.' -Carl Jung

I know a lot of people. People from different walks of life. Far be it from me to judge others and their dealings. Once I was driving through Queens with my dad and pointed out just about every strip club I had visited or planned to. I know that may sound strange, but I have the coolest Pops ever so that sort of thing is not so left of center to discuss when it comes to us. If anyone has been paying attention, strip clubs are nice little diversion from the average sports bar to This Bug. Nothing more. He joked that I have friends in both high and low places. To me, I just have friends in all over places. Period. What one person does, the next may not- but that has no bearing on who they are at the core to me. And truly, the core is all that I'm interested in.

I say that to say this: Freaky antics are not a deal breaker for me. There is a time and place for everything under the sun. I subscribe to the school of thought that there is no such thing as "never" and no such thing as "always". More often than not, if you want to make sure that something actually happens- be sure to preface it by saying you would never do it, whatever it may be. In my eyes, never is promise that cannot always be kept. By the way, I don't want anyone to be mislead by the title of this post. There are a lot of things that I have not done...yet. And there are a few that I just don't ever see myself doing. I do not see myself getting busy in a Burger King bathroom like Humpty any time in the future. Aside from public restrooms being germ-ridden and the least attractive place one can get intimate, I usually just want to get my Whopper Jr. with cheese and keep it moving.

There are some folks out there who claim that they just like to do their thing. That's fine with me. I've seen a lot and heard most of it. It takes a helluva lot to make me clutch my pearls. What I have an issue with are those same people projecting their own self judgments onto others when they are not so proud of their own behavior. When reputations start preceding folks rather than following them- I find that they are on the defensive unnecessarily. A guilty conscience can wreak immeasurable havoc. Like Andre 3000 said, "Whatever floats your boat or finds your lost remote..." Embrace it. Live it. Rock out with your cock out. (Okay, blushing just a tad) But please- don't assume that everyone is whispering just because you freak off on the regular. Just examine your own truth and make the proper adjustments as needed.

Now if you'll excuse me, This Bug has to go make change of a $20 bill.




Photo Courtesy: Corbis

Newports, Winston-Salems, Marlboro Lights...Buh Bye Now.

At the expense of sounding like I was jumping on the New Years resolution bandwagon, I chose to quietly stop smoking recently. It had nothing to do with a new beginning and a clean slate. It was just something I was ready to do, so I did it. Honestly, I am astounded by the incredible ease with which I pulled off this task. All this coming from someone who has torn off her nicotine patch in order to take a nice, long pull of a menthol cigarette. I wish I could explain how after over a decade of this nasty little habit I was able to just walk away. No gum, no patch, no hypnosis. Cold turkey. I just don't want to do it anymore. Which by the way I understand has the highest failure rate, but I'm not even worried. So far I've successfully had a stiff drink and satisfying meal without feeling the urge to light up afterward. And as for that post-coital smoke that so many can't live without- believe me, it's overrated if not mythical.

So while I'm walking this new smoke-free path, I'd like to share some of the wonderful results I have been experiencing thus far.

1. When I lie down on the pillow I am no longer overwhelmed by that "Forest Fire" smell that used to consume my hair.

2. Brighter eyes. Whiter teeth. Clearer skin. What can be better?

3. It just dawned on me that my family will really be happy once they notice I'm doing something to stick around a bit longer. Yay!

4. No need to spray my Carol's Daughter Pearl perfume from head-to-toe before entering an enclosed space.

5. Guess who won't be freezing her sweet cheeks off in below freezing weather for the sake of a cig?

6. My energy level has gone way up and I suddenly have a new appreciation for Soup for some reason...



7. No more Brokemans -rhymes with bumming for a damn cigarette.

8. I am free to enjoy a more healthful life as opposed to slowly killing myself and aging rapidly while doing so.

9. So much for wasting over $25 a week. I did the math and my savings will fund a nice little dash to Vegas this same time next year. Watch my smoke! No pun intended.

Yes, some of my reasons are a bit on the vain or superficial side but guess what? I've learned not to question positive motivation. I just moved with it and so far...so good. As it turns out, it took the Magical Amount for This Bug to walk away. Sometimes the hardest habit to break becomes the easiest one to dismiss. Life is funny like that I guess.

Photo Courtesy: Corbis

What the Bleep!?

As the New Year approaches, This Bug is not just looking to turn over a new leaf. I'm looking to shake the whole tree. The time of resolutions surrounds us as we try to part with our vices and become better people. My personal quest begins with something small. I'm going to try to clean up my speech. Those who know me well (and those who make the grave mistake of cutting me off while driving) know that I can have a venomous tongue with little provocation. It's not that I lack the vocabulary to express myself like so many believe. Sometimes, nothing will do but a well placed four letter word.

Lately I've been thinking about just how unladylike it is to curse. Don't get me wrong- I do not judge others for using profanity. But I'd be lying if I said it doesn't turn me off slightly when I hear someone drop the F-bomb in public as if children are not within earshot. I know. It sounds hypocritical considering how prone I am to do the same, but that is the very reason I am striving to curb my vulgar verbal habit. My ears have a selective immunity to certain words. It's weird. I've always said that when someone can cuss...I mean really cuss, something about it is endearing. Take my girl Sue Simmons for instance. I know the network and FCC were all over that little snafu, but I really didn't see what all the hullabaloo was about. If she peppers her talk with a few expletives, we can probably relate more than I thought. Here's the truth: If This Bug ever runs into her- the drinks are on me.

Anyway, the desire to lessen my use of curse words dates back to something my father said to me years ago. "Your speech is littered with foul language, Jayne." Interesting choice of words, don't you think? As though I was a litterbug who wantonly dirties the air with my words. Yes. I curse around my Dad. It's not that I don't respect him; I do. We just happen to have a rapport where he is not offended by my colorful lexicon. So like I stated, my attempt is to tidy up a bit. Like many of my previous undertakings- I just want to see for myself if it can be done. It won't be easy. Being an avid fan of Hip Hop, I am inclined to recite what some may consider explicit lyrics in everyday speech. What can I say? It just nails it. I hate when people use the words 'Potty Mouth' to describe others. To me, that term is more disgusting than any obscene language being scrutinized. Just because someone opts for a crude word here and there- does not mean they are filthy or beneath anyone else. I'm willing to bet the Queen of England can curse someone out behind closed doors and no one is questioning her capacity for classiness. So, we'll just have to see how this goes. Baby steps, you know?

Operation: Self Improvement. Day Fucking One.



And now...some inspiration.

Say what you mean. Mean what you say.

Mos Def and I had an interesting convo the other day. I listened intently. He spoke his piece. I heard it all. And then I promptly threw him onto the highway while doing 85. LadyBug Love is at the side of the road now, where it always belonged. It's a beautiful thing when you see the forest for the trees.

Mos: Woman you know I love you
Woman you know just how I feel.


Bug: Is that a fact?

Mos: You try to tell me that you don't know When I know you know the deal.


Bug: Honestly Mos, I only know what you told me. Nothing more, nothing less.


Mos: Woman you know I love you Woman you know I care... hey.


Bug: Like I said, I only know what you told me. Only time and circumstance really shows someone how much you care.

Mos: You try to say I'm running game.

Bug: Well, if the shoe fits...

Mos: You try to say baby you don't play fair.

Bug: Well if you call broken promises, lying and leading double lives fair- my mistake.

Mos: Oh darling
If there is any doubt in your mind
I want you to be sure...

Bug: Sure about what? There's no doubt in my mind anymore when it comes to you.

Mos: If you don't ever see me again

Bug: Actually Luv, I'm counting on never seeing you again.

Mos: I want you to be sure-

Bug: Trust me. I'm sure of it, Mos. I really don't need a reminder.

Mos: That I love you Oh girl
Oh baby I love you
Darling I love you...

Bug: Heard that one before. Thanks.

Mos: Oh darling I love you... hey Turn the lights down low. Turn the lights down low...

Bug: Whoa! What you turning lights down for? Are you for real right now? Is this the part where we speak to each other like two adults who love each other? Take that shit back to counseling. You are dead in the water, Homie.

Mos:You got to understand how I feel

Bug: Oh, I get it. I have to understand how you feel. Because everything moves according to you? Right...

Mos: You need to understand where I'm coming from.

Bug: I see where you're coming from and you can turn right back around, Luv. Where you're coming from; you never should have left.

Mos: Ain't no need to be afraid- Ain't no need to get up and run.

Bug: You wanna hear something funny, Mos? You did all the running. Not me. As soon as things got hectic, I was looking at your back. I was never afraid. Can't say the same for you.

Mos: Oh darling Oh girl you know I love you.

Bug: I know. Remember who loves me most...I heard you the first time.

Mos: Oh darling
You know I know I love you
Oh baby

Bug: Are you as tired of saying this as I am of hearing it? For real.

Mos: If you never see me again,
I need you to be sure

Bug: Now would be a good time for you to open that car door. Get out.

Mos: From this moment right now
Till for ever more

Bug: Here's what you can do from this moment right now til forever more- you can get the f*ck outta my car.

Mos: Said I love you.

Bug: Word? Really? Tell your story walking.

Mos: Love you, love you, love you, love you, love you, love you, love you, love you
you, love you, love you, love you... Baby!

Bug: G'bye Mos. You gotta to go.

Mos: Woman I love you.
Woman I love you. Woman I love you.

(This Bugs opens car door while traveling full speed ahead. Helps Mos out of the vehicle.)

Mos: AAAAAAHHHHHH...
Woman I love you!

Bug: Peace Bruh.

Letter for the Better

Dear Summer, I know you gon' miss me. For we been together like Nike Airs and crisp tees. -Jay Z

Well- what can I say, Summer? We had a good run, but the chilly winds of change are blowing. The longest days and torrid nights are gone. The June solstice gives way to autumnal equinox. There is nothing comforting about bracing for a cold winter. I know you like I know my own name. Here at this final hour, I close my eyes and feel the sun on my face- though it has set so long ago. I close my eyes and see Bermuda blue and dinosaur bones. I try to blink them away- but blinking brings it all into focus. I see myself through Summer's eyes. Jayne, Jayne, Jayne...Jayne smiling, Jayne walking, Jayne talking. Thanks to you, I know what the Rich Coast looks like at 7 a.m. though I never knew the way to San Jose.

Today instead of ankle strapped stilts, I pulled on boots- clunky and heavy...So much for dancing on water. But Summer, I know you like I know my own name. I always knew the warmth would last only for a time. Seasons are such predictably tricky things. Warm, cold, forgiving, soothing, surprising, cruel, unforgivable. The only thing we can ever be sure of is how they make us feel. You learn to think twice before you step once- because there are jagged little seashells under all of that white sand. Once you bleed, that trip to the beach suddenly feels more like punishment.

Summer, you and I have shared the best and worst of times. Times ripened by nostalgia, times destroyed by the marble that tips the scale from fantasy. I still love to dress for you. A bared shoulder, a flirty skirt over bronzed thighs. What makes a woman feel more womanly than Summer? But the heat swells the pavement below spirited feet, creates mirages on highways. Just when you think you've neared the water- it disappears. But there is beauty in knowing the real thing is on the horizon. That some thirsts are inevitably quenched- not when we want them, but when it is absolutely needed. I will not long for you again, Summer. I will not celebrate you in some other part of the universe, like the Druids at Stonehenge. Let them sing your praises now.

Your sun was damaging. Sunburn is too much for this Brown girl with the poison pen. If I could, I would write this all in Red. Burn the corner of the document for added effect but what good would it do, when this letter will never be postmarked. I will not wrap myself in a scarf, don a woolen hat and gloves, brave the icy sidewalks just to drop this in the mail box. Not when I know you'll be back someday and I'll be gone. Picture me, stargazers ever blossoming from my eyes- never needing Summer again.

Summer smiles, but summer goes. And winter waits behind it.

Eternally in Spring,
Jayne