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.

SO LONG, FAREWELL...

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, August 20, 2010

O Brother, Where Art Thou?

My little younger (because he is over 6 feet tall) brother and I got into an argument the other night. Like a for real, voices raised argument. This is kind of a big deal because we rarely argue and were taught as youngsters not to yell at each other. This, I realized is why when other people argue all loud – I get really uncomfortable and just want to disappear, but that is not the point of this post.

The point is that I just wanted one simple thing – for my brother to take me to the airport next week. And he said no. And I don’t be taking the word ‘no’ so well. (Yes, I'ma take this single, carefree, girl, do you' time and work on that. Maybe. Heh.) Especially not from family who I lean and depend on lots. So then he went into this whole, “you need to ask other people to help you do things because I may not always be here (like in the area here - not, not alive here) and then what you gon’ do?” But what he really meant was: you need to call one of those nigs you tell me be taking you to dinner and such and make them put their money where their mouth is. And other clich├ęs.And then I was like, “well you bet not ask me for nuffin.” And then he said, “what do I ever ask you for?”

Which shut my mouth. Cause ummm…he doesn’t really ask me for anything. And then I got to thinking what do men ask women for? To do for them? I mean beside the obvious. Huzzah!

I mean no man is going to ask me to come put this couch together (which I asked one to do), or help me clean my basement and take this heavy stuff to the trash can (which I have also done), oh and can you go ahead and change these light bulbs that are allll the way up there and maybe wash my car real quick?

Honestly, I have a very hard time asking for help. From anyone. Period. I really don’t like for other people who are not family to go out of their “way” to do things for me. Yes, it is somewhat cray cray when you think about how long I have known the people in my life and I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. And people who I’m only quasi-cool with ask me to do seemingly random things for them and I usually comply if I can – so yeah it’s probably something else I should work on. But…That said, I really try to minimize my asking of men folk to do things, because…

Well because like Courvoisier brought up on Monday, once we get grown, men and women are never really just “friends” - so knowing this, and because I try to be a decent human being, I feel some typa way about inviting a nig over just so he can mow my lawn or spackle my wall or help me paint the living room. Cause I know, I just know that he ain’t coming over just out the goodness of his heart. And here he is probably thinking he’s building up credit, waiting for the right moment to strike and meanwhile I’m just glad someone else is doing the work I don't wanna do. At all.

Cause let's keep it real and funky, I am only an I-N-D-E-P-E-N-D-E-N-T woman by default. In the other life that I live in my head, I strongly believe in the separation of labor. Men do the heavy lifting and take out the trash. When they are around – I mean I do take out my own trash - hence the real life default setting. But no man wants to be used just for his muscles. I’m guessing of course. But I would liken it to the way I wouldn’t want to be used just for what I got ‘tween my legs.

But I think the reason, the real reason I went off on my brother, was because he hit me where it hurts. Made me think about the what ifs? What if there ain’t neva no other nig who loves me enough that I can call on him? And ask him if he could come over and _______? Put together this table. Or take me to the airport. Or kill the spider up above my head. Or pump the gas – all the time. And do most of the driving. Or unclog the toilet. Or shovel this snow. Or rub my feet cause it's Tuesday. What if it’s just me, always depending on my brother, then he gets married and has kids, and they [reluctantly] move me in the house and I’m like the crazy auntie they keep upstairs and slide meals to like in Soul Food?

Yes, the mind is a terrible thing to let run free. But I’m just saying. Right now my younger brother is all I got. And even that gravy train might be pulling away from the station. Especially if keep coming with all these mashed potatoes, smothered chicken, and Thanksgiving sized turkey requests. (Sidenote why did I recently ask my granny why white people's gravy is always white. She was like, "I'ont know. I don't think they use no drippins. Heh.) Sigh. Oh well. Guess if push comes to shove, there's always this place.

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

This song is giving me life right now! I love me some Bilal! I love that this is in black and white! I love that he's singing w/ no mic and his voice fills the room and is so clear and crisp! And I really love that there is absolutely nooo, nothing from the audience. Not a whisper. Not a giggle. Not a 'that boy is sangin' good' moan. Nuffin. It's like everyone is mesmerized. Captivated. In awe. Like literally holding they breath, taking it in, enjoying the beauty, and thinking it over.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

no game zone

earlier this week the very smart brothas (more specifically the champ) got me to thinking as their posts are apt to do: 5 things men say (and do) when we're just running game. while reading this, i had many a palm-to-forehead moment in between spurts of audible laughter and shit, damn, mutherfucker.

i got got. many a time. by some ain't shit negros dressed in degrees and self-righteousness who i really shoulda known better than to get got by. and then while discussing men and games generally and men aint shit but hoes and tricks in particular with rum punch i thought to myself, why men gotta play games? and rum punch replied so lovely, why can't he just say i like you and you like me, can we be?

exactly! truth and beauty, rum punch, truth and beauty.

i know there are men (or at least one man) out there who don't run game. or who didn't run game with me. or did they? they didn't? no they didn't. and as i think about what's most important in a mate, i find myself wading past all the superficial requirements i thought (and the pressures of my own black bougie socioeconomedumacationalized achievements and standards dictated) i MUST have in the person i marry. cause let's be honest, we aint getting no younger and who am i gonna do this with? the guys who seemed so good on paper are the ones who had the most game that at the time i thought was [fill in the blank].

but alas i remain single. and they've moved on to bigger and better deer (or doe). the one who they didn't wanna game. who they just wanted to be with. forever. so now i'm thinking i'd rather have a man who isn't flashy, balling outta control, the most sought after dude, or even the most swaggerific so long as he doesn't try to game me. that's it. number one on the list.

don't
game
me

just be you. no bullshit smokescreens or defense mechanisms.

ready for a relationship. right. now.
don't fuck my head up by saying i intimidate you.
know you're more than worthy of a woman like me.
wanna be all up under me on a rainy saturday afternoon.
leave me at the house to go watch games with your friends, not to find some cut friends.
simply
love me.
like me.
co-write me.
take care of me.
protect me.
be regular.

that's all i want. really. ahhhh, that it were so easy.

to start the weekend off right, a somewhat related musical selection. chuckin' up the dueces to all those who gamed me...

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

The Yielded Rage

Greetings and Salutations Everybody! How you? When was the last time I posted? Shameful, I know. But I am finally back in the office and I have something to write about so let’s begin shall we?

My question is what is the deal with old people who happen to be white and males? You don’t have to brace yourself for a classic Amaretto rant-well maybe you do…

So picture this, Washington National Airport Security check line. My flight leaves for the A in 40 minutes and the line resembles those of bread lines during the Great Depression. At this point I am confident I am gonna make my flight. So I stand in line entertaining myself by people watching and wondering what destinations others are heading to. I’ve shown my boarding pass and ID and waiting for the fun exciting part of throwing my stuff in a tub and taking off my shoes. Can I just say that I find the shoe removal absolutely absurd, unsanitary and not a good look for a girl who does not have the cutest toes! But alas, they can scan down to our under roos these days, so a proper pedi should be the least of my worries. But anyway, the shoes have been removed and the tub has been filled and I am waiting for the dude in front of me to push his crap onto the conveyer belt when…

This old white man saunters in front of me and proceeds to take off his shoes. Notice there is no exclamation point, because I’m down with the elderly and not having them stand in line, I know elderly people. My grandmother is elderly and should be afforded some perks. But I’m mad because as I stand and wait for dude to fill his tub, remove his belt, his shoes, and the 50 eleven things from his pockets (I swear he was taking out lint with his loose change-seriously!) not one time did this old white man say thank you, excuse me or give me a head nod of acknowledgement! And as he continued to do his thing I could feel the fire burn in my belly as he took his dear sweet time with me, ever waiting for the moment where he said Thanks. And so began the war within between me getting my spork out and then remembering that he’s old so there should be a level of yielding and respect. But I’m sorry just because you are old doesn’t mean can just do what you want and think the world owes you something cause you’re still here! And it made me think about my college friend who felt that White people had this ability to just totally ignore you when you are right in front of them. At the time I thought she was a little paranoid, but now I don’t know because my mind keeps thinking this scenario would have been different if he cut in front of the blonde white girl standing behind me.

This could just be my issue I know-but oh the joys of blogging I get to care and share with you all!

I just can’t tell ya’ll how much I wanted to tell his hearing aid wearing, liver spots having, Medicaid collecting, alive during World War II self that he was just as wrong as he is rude, peppered with some choice words guaranteed to shed some tears! But alas, I’m a Christian trying to be and do better and I didn’t want some TSA dude to think that my barefoot self could be a threat to anyone. So I just kept my tact and shaming commentary to myself. Made my flight and remembered that every old white man isn’t like this dude. Right? Right!

See You In Seven

Monday, August 16, 2010

Men and Women as Friends

Can single men and women be friends?

Usually I answer that question with "Yes" but as of late, I feel like there is something about single men and women that can be misunderstood. For example...

I am chilling texting with a guy friend about how I am too lazy to get up and get something to eat. I say, you want to bring me some of that food you threw down a half hour ago. He says, not a problem. I am thinking "sweet, free grub!"

Here comes the details:
1. It is after 10:30 pm and I am in my jammies.
2. He has never been to my house before but I have been to his for a one or two parties.

Is this appropriate?
In my mind, it is all good if we're just friends... but I ain't slow, so I know food and liquor on a late Saturday night at someone's house could quickly go in the opposite direction.

So my response was "Hmm... I am just going to tough it out and eat some water ice."
His response, was "I am on my way!"
Again, I am saying "Sure and bring the food."

But, I am not trying to lead nobody on... so I have to fall back because unlike when we were kids, words and actions aren't as innocent as they use to be. I know a lot of guys who would interpret my "Sure and bring the food" as a night filled with a whole lot of potential.

Am I wrong for this conclusion?

I am not so sure... especially since Amaretto has told me before I have a lot of male friends that she thinks if the situation was slightly different, they would try and holla.

Much love until next week peace :)