WE ARE: 5 women navigating our twenties in search of peace, happiness and love (or not). WE WRITE: about everything and nothing. From the insane to the mundane- you will find different paths taken, lessons learned and lives lived. WE THINK: you’ll enjoy it...Warning: Consumption of these views may leave you enlightened while intoxicated.


The View From Here will conclude on Friday, October 1, our third year anniversary. We would like to spend this month thanking all of our readers, followers, haters, visitors, family, friends, and fans for your continued support, encouragement, and comments over these past few years. Thanks y'all!
-The Five Spot

Friday, October 24, 2008

There's Something About Firstloves...

There are three songs that without a doubt will make me think of my ex. They are: Total’s, Kissing You; 112’s, Cupid and Lauryn Hill’s, The Sweetest Thing. Yes, all songs circa 1996-7. Because this ex who always pops into my mind when I hear these songs, as it has become the unofficial soundtrack of our relationship, was my first real boyfriend, my first love.

We attended the same church. He was the son of a preacher man who loved to walk on the wild side. Yes, he was a “bad boy.” I mean as bad as you can get growing up in the suburbs. He had flirted with me numerous times, but I had paid him no mind. I was at the end of my freshman year, he is junior year, so he seemed sooo old to me. But he was oh so fine. And all the girls loved him. For realz. You remember how it was back then. Anyway. One Friday we got to talking while at a youth function at the church. As we left, I making my way home, he on his way to the go-go club because for him the night was still young, he said to me, “is your number in the church directory?” “Yes,” I said. “I’ma call you.” I didn’t believe him. That was Friday. He called me that Sunday. My older cousin who lived with us answered the phone. “You wanna speak to who,” she asked quizzically. I knew instantly that it was him. We spoke on the phone that Sunday night about who knows what – school, parents, why the sky is blue. And we kept right on talking, for the next few days, months, a year. And somewhere in there we were official boyfriend and girlfriend. And I was in love. And damn I still remember this twelve years later. Ask anyone, Rum Punch don’t remember nathin.

But with him I remember conversations until dawn. Dates to the movies and “fancy” chain restaurants. Sneaking around to see him because I knew my mom would think that he was too old for me. Reading my writing to him. Kissing him in his car. Cutting school and waiting for him to pick me up because he had a half day schedule. Accusations of cheating and silent treatment. A sweet birthday card he gave me that I have now lost. Dreams of being together forever and ever and ever. Him telling me that he loved me. Me saying it back. Him breaking my heart. Me being crushed. But always enthralled with him.

Over the years we would lose touch with one another, see each other again, and fall right back into each other’s arms. I knew that it would never work. He was not right for me. We belonged to two entirely different worlds. I could never come down to his and he wouldn’t dare come up to mine. But I couldn’t quite shake him because whenever he looked at me, really looked at me with that come hither look in his eyes, I would melt and become 15 years old all over again. And maybe he too was transported back to that time we had been together, so many years ago.

Even as I had other boyfriends, suitors, lovers, there was always something about him. I was still connected to him. And I feel that in some way I always will be. Maybe it’s because at 15, love was just a word and that yummy/soft feeling you got when that person was around you. It was pure. Simple. Not what it becomes as you get older. Tainted. Filled with conditions. Suspicious. Scary. Uncertain. Difficult. Weighed down with baggage. Brewing with needs, expectations and hopes. The definition expands and contracts, depending on who you ask, how you feel, where you been, where you trying to go, what kinda love you want, thus making things more and more complicated.

But, shit at fifteen, it was easy. That boy, who is now a man, was delicious and dangerous. Being with him was fulfilling and free. It was beautiful and plain. It was a girl giving her heart away for the first time, without knowing all the consequences that come with that. The price that has to be paid. The lessons that have to be learned. A girl with her heart in her hand, her hand extended to him, happily/foolishly/effortlessly giving it to him. Expecting and needing little in return. And oh so content with what she received. Ahhh to first loves!

That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!

Thursday, October 23, 2008

all things being (un)equal

The other night Rum Punch and I were sippin on some $2 cocktails and discussing love and relationships as we are often known to do. This fine night we landed on the subject of who should love who more in a relationship – the man or the woman? Our informal poll yielded the following results:

the MAN - 2

the WOMAN - nada

Now the EEOC love police would immediately cry foul. The love between a man and a woman should be equal. Not talkin' bout 60-40, not no 70-30 but 50-50 love. But reality bites!

Just like salaries, shoe sizes and body parts, men and women are not created equal. Mix in personality differences and varying life experiences and you will find that when two people get together in a relationship, one person is bound to be feeling the other person, be caught up in the rapture at least a teeny tiny bit more than the other person. Such is life.

And if I have a say in the matter, I want my husband to love me more. Tis the only way.

The man just has to the love the woman more. He has to adore her. In his heart and in his soul, he's got be thinking, Until the end of time I’ll be there for you, you own my heart and mind, I truly adore you. (c) Prince. If it’s about her, he has to be about it. Here's why:

Because men, by their nature, are prone to have a wandering eye. There might be some exceptionally diligent and thoughtful men out there but on the whole by their nature men like to look. They are physical visual creatures. If an attractive woman crosses their path they will look or at least think about looking. That’s why male rape is laughable. That’s why when they cheat they say it didn't mean anything. So to counteract this natural tendency toward cheating and unfaithfulness there has to be some countervailing force, some thing so strong that makes a man want to be faithful above all else. If he adores his girl/wife and he loves her with all his heart, he’ll be less likely to cheat. He’ll consider her feelings more often and more strongly before he lets his mind go too far down that path.

Contrastingly if the woman loves the man more then SHE will be more prone to that countervailing force, that faithfulness will act upon her in a cooresponding and oftentimes devastating way. Women by their nature love hard, love strong and love in the face of adversity, common sense and sometimes all reason. We love even when love didn’t bring his ass home last night. We love creeping down behind the bar watching from across the room when he said he was working late. We love over indiscretions and slights. And so if we love that man more (and he knows it), it’s a wrap! Because that greater love will translate to unfailing faithfulness.

So like I said if I had a choice he'd love me more.

what say you?

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

aiding & abetting chronicles, vol i.

A friend of mine shared some news about her baby brother. He’s fucking up. He’s indifferent about school, disobeying parents, typical dumb shit. And mind you, he’s in high school. So, my friend’s mom requested of my friend to type his paper for school. And her mother pleaded in her brother’s defense, stating that if the paper isn’t prepared for him, he won’t submit it. Well, then the paper just won’t be submitted? right

My friend is so frustrated with her mother and her brother. She’s a new mom has her own household to contend with and her patience is runnin’ pretty thin to deal with this. I told her not to type that shit. This boy’s world needs to crack right now instead of 5 years later when he’s 21 and he becomes a statistic. Really, these lil’ mofos think they know what they doing --- well give him a dose of REAl LIFE 101 for 24 hours, shit – 72 hours if you have too. She counters her mother wouldn’t do that. I was quick to remind her when he turns 18 – GAME OVER. No one gives a fuck, if he can’t read, write, etc. They’ll just pity the fool. And what good has Mama done if he does nothing with his life. And mind you Mama is in the retirement age—is she really going to take care of him forever? I don’t get these kids allure of the streets. Ain’t shit out there.

Now my friend is the oldest of 5 – she’s knocking on 40, the next sibling (her sister) is in her 30s, followed by 3 boys: 2 – young 20’s and 1 teen brother. Three out of the 4 (excluding the baby brother) are working professionals including the eldest two (being females). The fact that their brother can’t relate to what his older siblings in life are doing is troublesome. But as my friends says, she can’t relate to this new generation. I really think in some black households, boys and girls are being raised differently. Ok, I have to switch gears for a minute.

My friend and her sister were raised with knowing no man wants a no good woman, you’ll have to cook for your man, keep a clean house, etc. Granted these are life skills, but that’s my point exactly. Life skills, very few men are being thought those life skills. However, men from the south particularly from Louisiana (the ones I know) were all taught to cook ‘cuz their Mama told them “you’re gonna learn how to cook if ya gonna eat” You think if the family told this fool about life skills, he’d have something to think about. And sometimes you can tell people things until you turn blue in the face and shit don’t matter. And that’s fine too. As long as he know it’s a hard knock life, then that’s half the battle.



Tuesday, October 21, 2008

A Filtered Kind of Life

When I was three years old, I told a cashier at Kmart that we were leaving to go to a store with better stuff! My mom likes to share this tale along with other adventures starring me using curse words and telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. And usually there is laughter, because afterall kids say the darndest things… But the average adult, who doesn’t have Turrets syndrome, has to filter what they think down to something nice and polite that makes people feel warm, fuzzy and sugary. And sometimes that just sucks!

Now let me tell ya’ll where I’m coming from. I’m coming from a place of working with people at my J-O-B. Rum Punch wrote about this struggle we have with ourselves under our masks at work. And I always joke that on my last day at any job-Imma just let my soul glow and say exactly what I have always been thinking. Yet in my life and times I have resigned from quite a few jobs and never once I have said anything unfiltered.

And it makes me sad that I can’t be that free. You understand that children and the aged have a freedom that us folks left in the middle ages miss and look forward to. And it also makes me hate on people who didn’t get the maturity memo and still tell it like it T I tis! We all have had run ins with those type of teeth sucking, lip smacking and neck rolling people.


If only I could tell my boss that I think she’s a freaking idiot and I know she’s full of bull----! Or just school the coworker who couldn’t figure out how to unjam the printer and asked me how to do it. I’m sorry do I look like the manufacturer? Do I look like an office equipment fixer upper person? I look at Excel spreadsheets with numbers all day. I would have to fiddle and read instructions the same as you would. A Magic negro I am not!

But I can’t say these things. Well out loud anyways. Because somewhere I was taught to be polite, though I don’t remember my parents telling me not to tell adults with coffee breath to back up a few paces, I just know not to do it. Somehow I’ve learned that I have to go along just to get along. To run my thoughts and feelings through a strainer so that the real me doesn’t seep out and make somebody cry and maybe improve themselves.

And though I want to be free, I don’t want someone telling me about myself unfiltered. I don’t want to experience that level of honesty…and that’s the pure truth.

See You In Seven

Monday, October 20, 2008

Interview with a Cyberstalker

In this day and age, you not only have to be careful what you say but be careful what you write. With blogs and social networks, like facebook and myspace, anyone with internet access can find out what’s happening in your little world. Everyday we upload our latest pics and post comments on our friend’s blogs without thinking that someone out there in cyberland is using our online activity to track our whereabouts.

It wasn’t until I sat down with two ladies from work for lunch that I realized…cyberstalking was a lot more common than I thought. Here I was in the presence of a grown woman telling me about how some guy told her he was too exhausted to go out with her, but she had seen photos posted by his friends of him partying the night that he was supposedly too exhausted. Go figure. He lied. What is the big deal? I am telling you, I thought only crazy b!tches be checking the date/time and reading all the comments from a guy you only went out with once. It is like ease dropping on a conversation or sitting in your car outside his house! Normal people, at least so I thought…don’t do this. I have to say this type of behavior intrigued me.

Now we all know online activity is definitely reviewed in criminal cases so we won’t venture down that road in this interview but I am trying to get an idea of the satisfaction achieved in cyberstalking.

Everybody, here are a few lines from my interview with a cyberstalker, who will remain nameless.

C: First and foremost, do you consider yourself a cyberstalker? (chuckle)

S: No, not at all. I mean it just helps to know a little about a person before you meet them in person.

C: Okay, I can see that. But do you just search people online you have heard of, but never met? Or do you search to find out information about people that you know?

S: Well…both. Sometimes you want to know what is going on in a person’s life and it is just easier to just read up on their blog post, comments and view their pictures.

C: Did you ever just think about sending them an email or giving them a call?

S: He, he…yes, I could do that but this seems like a more legit way to get the answer. Sometimes you can’t ask the person.

C: Really? Hint. Hint. I am curious…how many people do you actually think write the whole truth on these social blogs or only upload the funny or good pictures? Did you ever stop think that their online persona is a little different from real life?

S: Yeh…that is true but there is some truth…

C: But how do you tell what is fiction from non-fiction? Isn’t this all a form of entertainment?

S: Not always.

C: Hmm…tell me more about your thought process. What types of things do you conclude from your findings.

S: Well, let’s say that he posts a comment about how exhilarating it would be to cheat on his girlfriend…I can assume that he would most likely cheat on me.

C: Ha, ha…not to be facetious but the key word is IF. People say stuff online all the time that might not necessarily be truthful. Don’t get me wrong you might be onto something but you can’t make a judgement on that alone.

S: I don’t. I see this research as a way of getting to know someone. In some ways you are more familiar with the person and feel closer to them.

C: (chuckle) Did you say “feel closer”?

So what’s up peeps…does it make you “feel closer”? If you read my post and comment every week for a year, should I consider us BFFs?

And if that is the case, I better watch what I write. (chuckle)

Until next week...peace :)