generation Y?

Over at the 5spot--we're '80s babies. Reagan babies. Overcame the crack epidemic era babies. Gernation X babies. My point is we were born during times that were inconceivably rough. I swear up until I was 12, my dad just shitted on the conditions of chocolate city "lock your doors, we're entering the city; "you know the'll rob you for nothing", "look at that knuckledhead--don't want to do shit with his life".... Bellini could go on and on... I mean the perception of life during that time was just as Annie said, "it's a hard-knock life"! So, you got to roll with the punches and have a game plan.

Now compare the '80s chil'ren with the stark contrast of the '90s babies. Clinton babies. Life was good babies! The Bling-Bling babies. They were aptly coined, generation y. And you have to wonder did economic boom have a psychological impact on their upbringing? I mean these '90s babies ain't got no drive, they won't even try. And if it wasn't for the fact that these '90s babies grew up with your folks, thereby raised by the same folks that raised you -- you would have to wonder who are they folks?

On two separate occasions, I've had two different friends tell me about the state of their cousins. Both cousins products of the '90s. Both cousins are young women. I've seen these women when they were little precocious girls. Both girls are unemployed, are mothers, and are in helpless relationships living with a man. One finished high school and the other did not. The one that finished high school was fortunate enough to attend college on a partial scholarship, she went and then dropped out -- not for a lack of aptitude rather for a lack of focus. So, this is the current verdict of the '90s babies.

No drive. No ambition. Livin' for the sake livin'. And it's one thing if you want to live your life like that, but the children ain't got no business being raised in those conditions -- especially when your ass wasn't raised like that! Perhaps, there is truly no shame in their game? Where's the pride to make sure you're employed, so you can bring in a check and take care of your baby. Don't blame the recession, both chicks weren't working prior to the recession. It's as if being pregnant meant they ain't have to do shit. Why are you going on welfare? The reality is they don't have to go on welfare. But one has to assume they want to. Asking folks for pamper money, formula money -- why the fcuk aren't you're breastfeeding. whatevs... I can only wonder what's their excuse. Why aren't they trying to better themselves and their sitchuations?

generation Y?

Brotherman, where art thou?

Brotherman.

Definition – a brotha with a hustle … to get something from somebody … aka a beggar; given that he doesn’t know you it doesn’t matter…he has his eyes on the prize…and this weekend it was me!

Damnnnn.

So, I found myself in the Keystone state and no sooner than 5 minutes after I parked my car – Brotherman was standing a few feet away, motioning me to lower my window. Just so you know I was not in familiar territory as James Carville (political strategist) has said “… there’s Philadelphia in the east, Pittsburg in the west, and Alabama in the middle” – yup that sums it up. So, I warily look at Brotherman. I can’t stare, be’cuz staring is a sign of disrespect. He was no taller than 5’ 9 ½, missing a tooth (and I’m dead serious), clothes looked like Tide© at one time had mustered the strength to bring the vibrancy back to colors of the polo – but those days had long been gone… So, Brotherman tells me I shouldn’t park in my current spot, rather I should park on the otherside of the median. Moreover, he questions my whereabouts / destination in a lackadaisical, non-threatening way to evaluate the merits of his recommendation for me to move my car.

After careful deliberation, Brotherman gave me the spiel…and it goes a lil’ something like this… “You know I’m trying to get out of town, but I’m $16 dollars short. Do you think you can help a brotha out?”

HELL NO.

For one, Bellini does not think a man should ask a woman for money.
Two, I don’t know you.
Three, most of the 5 can co-sign this I DON’T CARRY CASH.
Yet, Bellini decides to retrieve dollar from her automobile – you gets no more than a George Washington --and give to Brotherman so he can be out of sight and out of mind.

By the time, I pulled my key out of the ignition, scurried my belongings to my destination – Brotherman had vanished. I assume to prey on the next victim.
Why? Why me? I mean I’m nice, but not that damn nice.
And men, before you give your opinion about I shouldn’t have given his ass shit – please understand as a woman it is very unnerving for a man to come up to you (whom you don’t know of course) and just start talking and/or ask for shit. We have too many people out here with issues (i.e. psycho) that are just waiting for an opportunity to snap on somebody – and frankly I don’t want it to be me. So, I stick to my script (reticient in my speech) and remain pleasant until I take refuge in a safe place.

But do you know, when I left my destination and returned later – Brotherman was still in the vicinity like he never left and had the nerve to have a sidekick is this Tag Team? As Brotherman closed in on my vehicle and I emerged out of the automobile, he says “Ahh.. I seen you earlier.” Yes, and you will not be seeing me again” (of course I said this in my mind). I nodded and continued in the direction I was headed and so slightly accelerated my pace to get to my final destination. The nerve. But I’m back safe and sound.

cheers,

Bellini

P.S. There's a Brotherman in every city waiting for you...