Wednesday, July 28, 2004

Just Like Heaven (not Heaven, but like it)-Toya
 
I think I entitled another post "Just Like Heaven" but this definitely fits this post.  I just got off of the phone with my friend Chris who let me listen to almost the ENTIRE Cure show in Nashville, via cell phone.  Love Song and Boys Don't Cry were the encore songs.  GLORIOUS!!!He is such a good friend.  He was telling me that he saw some kindred BGLU's there.  I asked if he gave them the silent "What's up?" and he said that because he has blonde hair, they probably wouldn't acknowledge him.  I said they wouldn't acknowledge him because he has on a wedding ring.  Our friend Chris is hot.  I think so, my friends think so and so does his wife.

There is something that comes over me when I listen to The Cure that is very similar to being in love.  I didn't go to the show because I am dead broke but I am glad that I didn't.  I get a bit too amorous when there music comes on.  I can't imagine standing there hearing Love Song live and having one of my girlfriends to share that with.  Strangely enough, their music is the only music I feel that way about.  I never had a problem listening to Luther Vandross live or any other balladeer.  The Cure reminds me of being in love. 

Funny enough, a friend of mine just left our house who I have had more than a crush on for about a year.  I don't mind writing this because even though I was scared to before, it is very obvious that I like him so if he stumbled across this, I doubt that this would come as a surprise.  Upon his departure it came pretty clear to me that the feelings aren't mutual.  He may think I'm cute but not compatible and I am okay with that (and all my friends say "Yeah, right".)  No but really.  I have a good friend now and he's great.  I am not at all opposed to dating him.  I just don't believe that the chemistry is quite there yet and am not sure if it ever will be.  Cause you know, first there is the crush.  Then when you realize that that person actually knows that you are alive, The intensity goes from a 10 to about an 8.  In time you become comfortable with that person and the mystery wears off bringing it down to about a 5.  It's when all the mystery is gone, the smoke clears and you two are homies is when one can actually put things in a logical perspective.  I am actually willing to put myself out there again and that says a whole lot (see any of my prior posts about commitment phobia and you will know why if you don't already).  This whole experience of admitting that I like someone and that I may want to start dating them has been quite healthy.  I haven't really been serious about dating anyone in years. 

So as I shut the door behind him after we had dinner I started thinking that something is really missing with us.  Even if he does like me, something that I want is missing.  Just because two people like each other doesn't mean that they should be together.  During dinner, Chris called and left a message.  I checked it after my guest left and "Just Like Heaven" was on my voice mail and I thought "That's it!  That is what is missing!"  Call me idealistic, call me naive.  I know that love is not all about feelings.  But there is that certain "thing" that you are supposed to have and I am more than willing to wait for it.  If I never find it, I am not settling.  In the meantime,  my Cure's greatest hits CD will do.



Wednesday, July 21, 2004

It Never Rains in Southern California
by tia

Well like I said, I’m back. For those of you who didn’t know I was on vacation last week in sunny SoCal. Man, I want to live there. I’m such a fan of warm weather and surfing/surfers. It would take forever to tell it all. And unlike Usher I’m going to tell it but I’m not goin’ to tell it all. But I will hit the high points.

But before I even get into that, can we talk about how sad I am that I can’t buy my oh-so-desired IPod because I’m STILL running windows 98. Yo, if anyone has a spare copy of Windows 2000 or XP just lying around, feel free to send it to me. I mean my birthday IS tomorrow. Moving on…

Food, Glorious Food


I’m almost positive that I gained AT LEAST 5lbs while I was gone. I was eating like food was going out of style. I seriously don’t know how people in LA stay fit. I mean outside of the obvious heroin addictions. There is GOOD food everywhere. Even the little holes in the wall have great food. Like the place in West Hollywood that looked soooo sketchy but had the BANGIN’ Sichuan Chicken. But the piece de resistance was the Roscoe’s House of Chicken and Waffles. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the concept don’t judge it before you try it. I know that it seems a bit odd to have chicken and waffles at the same time. But believe me when I tell you that that the food is sent straight from the Lord God Almighty. I have seen people raise their hands in praise as they eat. I was one of them. I wanted to stand up and shout GLORY!!!!! Food should not be that good. It’s the waffles, yo. I swear they put crack in the waffles. If you ever have a chance to go, do so. And don’t be fooled. There are cheap imitations in Atlanta and St. Louis. Don’t believe it. There is only one place where one should have chicken and waffles at the same time and that’s at Roscoe’s.

Only to a BGLU
I am now fully convinced that BGLU is universal and worldwide. "Where you at Coffeeeeeee?" "I’m universal and worldwide." (Inside joke) Sometimes the most random things happen to us. Like the time Toya actually communicated with Jordan Knight while he was on stage. "She said ‘sing the song.’" Or the time John Mayer’s road manager, Scottie totally showed his behind (not literally…where’s your head at?) and pretty much lost us as fans. Or the time when we saw Yolanda Adams in the airport and totally WILED out. "YOLANDA!!!" Needless to say, living where we do and being who we are there is no shortage of random happenstance involving what most would call "celebrities." Sometimes they’re cool; sometimes they forget that they have to put their pants on one leg at a time. It is with the latter that I generally have nothing to do with. And for the most part, cool or otherwise, I’m not usually impressed.
I was, however, greatly surprised when my homie, Lightchild (what’s up brother) walked over the other night and asked if a friend of his could come to dinner with us. I wasn’t so much surprised that LC had friends. I mean he is the brotha, the brotha, brotha who everybody loves. However, when this friend turned out to be the South African Idol, Heinz Winckler (talk about universal and worldwide) I’m not going to act like I wasn’t a teeny bit shocked. Sidebar: At one point and time I was a junkie for all things IDOL. I loved the 1st American Idol. I have both Kelly’s cd and Justin’s grossly underrated cd. I LOVE LOVE LOVE Will Young, the UK Idol. He is too precious. It is because of his preciousness (don’t think that’s a word) that I watched World Idol in the first place and thus was familiar with S.A. Idol.

Anyway, I won’t bore you with the details suffice it to say that Heinz is a sweetie and a cutie.


And I promised him that I would hip y’all to his site. So run along and up his visit counter. We have to support, ya know?
 
Living Up to the Name
I should have known better. But they came recommended by Orbitz, Expedia, and a personal acquaintance. But you get what you pay for. I rented a car from Payless (not the shoe people) via Orbitz. Their motto should be Payless: expect less. I swear they could have been the "other car company" in an Avis or Hertz commercial. Should I mention that a midsize car for them is a Nissan Sentra? Or should I mention how the Sentra was a good 8,000 miles past due for an oil change? Because that’s what I need, my rental car blowing an engine while I’m going 80 mph on I-5. Or should I talk about how I returned the Sentra only to be given a FORD (Found On the Road Dead or Fix Or Repair Daily. I’ve got a ton of them.) P.O.Crap. I would have returned it had I not be so far away from LAX. And then the guy at the rental place tried to offer me a job. $8/hour plus commission. Ummm….yeah. Even if I didn’t already make WAY MORE than that, what led him to believe that I would want to work for his crappy-anus company? I guess that’s what I get for trying to save a buck.

Ex-Patriate
If it weren’t for the rain I would be what the Brits like to call an Ex-patriate, someone from the states who takes up permanent residency in the UK. Man I love those people. It’s the accent. Someone on "I Love The 90s" made a very valid point about Americans. As long as someone has an accent (I’m thinking he meant European) we’ll forgive him for anything. Think Hugh Grant and the hooker or George Michael and the undercover cop. I love almost every movie I’ve seen Hugh in and we won’t even talk about how I watch George Michael’s greatest hits like they’re new. Anyway, whilst on vacation, I was fortunate enough to meet several Brits from my church’s sister church in London. I love those people immediately for what seems to be no apparent reason. Lola, in particular is the new homie. I love crazy people. They let me know that I’m not alone.

I think that’s it as far as the SoCal highlights go. It’s a miracle that I even got back on the plane. Don’t be surprised if you hear about me moving. Eventually I will be "going going, back back, to Cali Cali."





Monday, July 19, 2004

Guess who's back, back again, Tia's back, tell a friend....
 
5 lbs, 4 planes, 3 trips to In-and-Out Burger, 2 visits to Roscoe's House of Chicken and Waffles (Long Beach!!!!), innumerable poptarts, a hand full of British folks, 2 shoddy rental cars, a birthday rap and 1 IDOL later, I'm finally back in Nashvegas. And I'm about to step on a plane to the Midwest. Details to follow upon my return.

Monday, July 12, 2004

Age Ain't Nothin' but a Number (an Alarmingly, Steadily Increasing, High Number) But a Number Nonetheless- By Toya

At the age of 29, I can easily pass for early twenties. According to some, I can sometimes pass for 19 depending on what I have on. Thankfully, I come from a long line of women that age gracefully. You should see my grandmother. She is fine! And my great grandmother was off the hook well up until she died at the age of 94 almost two years ago. I thank God for good genes.

However, I live in a town where it seems that the magical age is 24. Almost everyone I know is 24. 24 doesn't seem young to me until I realize that there is a 5 year difference. 5 years. When I was graduating from high school at the age of 17, they weren't even teenagers yet. I have pretty much resolved that if I marry anyone in this town, they will be younger than I am and that is okay with me. However, it doesn't always sit well those that are under the impression that I am a 21 year old coed who decided to stay in Nashville on summer break.

I have made up my mind that every guy I meet who seems interested has got to undergo the age litmus test. I need to just get the issue out of the way. I have seen the hope disappear in the face of too many youngins who thought I was fresh out the box. I have a friend of mine who two years ago, I suspected had a little crush on me and I ran it by our roommate. She had seen us together and said that it was pretty obvious. I wasn't so sure but what I did know was that he was too young for me. We could kick it, but that was it. So I found a way to sneak it in and tell him. I swear it was like telling a child that there was no Santa Clause.

Me: You DO know how old I am, don't you?
Boy: Like, 21, 22...
Me: I'm 27
Boy: (Stepping back, bracing himself as if to have been shot in the chest)No way. You are lying. Come on, Toya. You are so fabulous though! No, noooooooo! You are so rad though! No way!

He kept trying to rationalize it too. He mentioned a friend of ours that is my age and said "Well, that's okay. So and so is 27. It's alright." Umm, it was going to have to be. There was no way around it. It was fine with me but he needed to convince himself I guess. We kept talking and a couple of times he said, "You really aren't 27 are you?" Yes snookums, mama is (was).

So just the other day I was in the car with a new buddy who I think is too cool. We get along really well and I decided to pull out the litmus test. The test is this: If it comes out that I am older than what a guy thinks I am and they are appalled and/or say something stupid to show how young THEY are, it is a no go.

Me:How old are you?
Boy 2:(shyly)I...I'm 16, Toya.
Both start laughing hysterically
Boy 2:Nah, I'm 24. You?
Me: (nonchalantly)I'm 29.
Boy 2: Toya! STOP PLAYIN'! You are NOT 29 years old.
Me: Yeah, I am.
Boy 2:But, but you look so young!
Toya: I AM YOUNG!!!! I'm in my TWENTIES for goodness sake!
Boy 2: I mean, wow! You don't even have wrinkles!

I didn't refute that because what goes on between me and my MAC Cosmetics salesperson is our business and our business only. If no one else can tell that I am aging, I sure can. Just today, I made a face in the mirror and noticed lines forming on my forehead. I was hoping that just meant my face was getting chunkier but I know better. It's happening. Age is happening.

I think what bothers me the most is that it is quite possible that people are shocked about my age not because of how I look but because of how I act and where I am in life. I am not married, not financially stable, and have chosen to temp so that I can fulfill my dream of working in another equally unstable industry, the music industry. It's almost as if people look at me as if to say "Do YOU know how old you are? Take those afro puffs out of your hair, lady!"

I have often said that my late twenties have been the best teenage years of my life. They sincerely have. While I don't want to get older on the outside, there are a lot of habits that I have that should have disappeared with age and it is becoming increasingly frustrating and I haven't really been happy with myself as of late. I really am worried that I am not maturing as I ought to be. And just like clockwork, I am less than 6 months away from my next birthday and this is usually how the countdown starts. I should have guessed.