Don't Make Me Go There

A few months ago, my associate pastor preached a sermon by this title. The message was two fold and excuse me for not having the accompanying scripture*, but follow me anyway. And please know that I’m interpreting the sermon for how it works for me, in my head, in my life. She doesn’t actually cuss from the pulpit.

So, first she talked about the usage of the often uttered saying – Don’t make me go there. What it has come to mean nowadays. That it’s when someone has pushed you to the brink, to the edge, and is about to take you, well, there. To that ‘no this mothafcuka didn’t’, contemplating violence all day long, til you’re forced to leave work early cause you got to handle something, calling the homies, doing drive bys, bout to take off your earrings and get you some Vaseline, way down in the murk and mire place.

You don’t want anyone to ever take you there cause if they do it will be ugly. And unladylike. And seemingly out of character. And perhaps a wee bit violent. And just, overall, won’t end well for anyone involved. And so you fire off warning shots to the wrong doer with these five words: DON’TMAKE MEGOTHERE! This is the clean version of you better back the fcuk up. Get outta my space. Don’t come for me. Check yo'self before you wreck yo'self. Leave me the hell alone. Give me 50 feet or I will kick yo’ ass. For real. DON’TMAKEMEGOTHERE!

But then she flipped it and said that don’tmakemegothere is when God is trying to move you to another place. A healthier place. A better place. And because of fear. Uncertainty. Doubt. Lack of faith. You say: don’tmakemegothere. Don’t move me out of this comfortable spot. Don’t challenge me. Don’t send me in a new direction. Don’t have me try to reach my full potential. I am afraid. I am not ready. I am not sure I can handle it. don’tmakemegothere. [End of synopsis of pastor’s sermon]

[Beginning of Rum Punch breaking it down and applying it to real life sit’chuations]

But God moves you anyway. Picks you up kicking and screaming. Crying and fighting. Bitching and moaning. Pouting and fussing. Drops you off. And waits. For you to fcuk up. Call that nygga back. Walk away from it all. Curse the world. Sleep with him again. Leave it unfinished. Live beneath your station. Settle. Get complacent. Struggle. Question. Lose faith. Regain. And then finally understand that God means this move. This change. This growth. This different direction. This new experience for good.

Funny how your DON’TMAKEMEGOTHERE! and don’tmakemegothere moments tend to intersect. Usually on what seems like the most terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, when this just can’t be life, when you fittin' to set it off in this mothafcuka cause someone done lost they mind up in here, up in here and is trying you, pushing you there - you get taken to another level.

You get a tap on the shoulder. A whisper in the ear. A hard shake from the powers above, reminding you that you’re better than this. You’re too cute for this.** You’re more than this setback. And that this moment does not and will not define you. So you might as well start packing your bags and filling out change of address cards. Cause you’re about to be moved again. Over there.

Over to another place where you are given the strength to take a road higher than you could have ever imagined. A place where you: Forgive. Resist resorting to violence or cuss words. Face fears. Quote scripture. Laugh. Walk away. Relax, relate, release. Leave it where it be. Let it go. Praise through the pain. Start all over again. Pray. Remind your own self that this is just a test. Move on. Shake that load off. Keep going. Know that tomorrow is another day. That this too shall pass. And what doesn’t kill you will only make you stronger.

And other clichés. But it’s these clichés that give you comfort because you know their truth. Cause you’ve been to the edge of there before. Past there, even. And everywhere in between. And you always make it back safely.

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

* I do believe that she was preaching from Jonah, though
** Shouts out to Courvoisier! ;-)

Hangin By A Thread

People inside de fete
Dancin' drippin' wit' sweat
Nobody tired yet
Jam you go get
We celebratin'
Pure love no hatin'
Man jammin' on woman
Gyul win'in' back on man
Drinks flowin' down like rain
Party insane no one can see me
Cause dis is time to party

And we nah goin' home, til de mornin' come
And we nah goin' home, til we see de sun

- Nah Goin Home, Biggie Irie


I just spent most of the weekend celebrating Trinidad & Tobago's Carnival, which officially begins today. To say I am in need of sleep and a good detox regimen is an understatement. I think I may have been a Bajan [from Barbados] or Trini gyul [chick] in my last lifetime. Seriously. I have always loved all sounds & rhythms from the Carribean. Reggae, dancehall, soca, calypso... love it all. I grew up listening to old skool favs like Peter Tosh, Third World, Steel Pulse, and of course the one and only Robert Nesta Marley. I can "wine" like a dancehall queen. I look forward to food items like corn soup, doubles, bussup shot, and goat roti. Wouldn't be surprised if I ended up marrying a brother from the islands... lol. Though he'd probably have to be somewhat Americanized 'cause I ain't the one to be his maid and his cook and sit at home waiting for him to walk through the door each day like his mama and 'em. But that's another conversation I won't start today.

I saw "de mornin' come" Saturday AND Sunday. Today is my first day back in the real world after a week of vacation. In addition to lack of sleep and 100+ emails in my inbox and unread faxes and millions of voicemails and a mailbox overflowing with envelopes, I just lost the last two originally typed paragrapghs of this post. I am ready to go home now.

I hope to regain my sanity (what little I had at least) soon. In the meantime, I leave you with this in spirit of this festive season.

Tumultuously Yours,

Dark & Stormy

Ready to Rumble

It's just one of those days
That a girl goes through
When I'm angry inside
Don't wanna take it out on you.
It's just one of them things
Don't take it personal.
I just wanna be all alone
And I you think I treat you wrong.

- Just One of Those Days, Monica


It is definitely one of those days. This storm is quietly brewing. The kind of storm that takes no prisoners when it finally erupts. I'm sure you've had a day like this... we all do. Days when nothing you do goes right. And nothing you say sounds right. And folks keep trying to test ya like there's a sign on your forehead that reads "push button here". Well I am ready to steal somebody dead in their chin. 'Bout to hit 'em with that check hook. Punish 'em. You catch my drift... Do I sound a lil' violent right now? Yes. Crazy? Wouldn't be the first time. Do I care? Hell no. Like Monica said, don't take it personal.

My weekend was enjoyable and fulfilling. Last night, I went to sleep with a smile on my face and merry thoughts on my mind. This morning, I awoke to the sound of someone banging on my front door. Now I live in a security building, so whenever I get a knock on the door and I haven't buzzed anyone in, I'm already annoyed. I assume its probably a neighbor and immediately wonder what the hell do they want. Indeed it was my neighbor. The Spanish* man from the 2nd floor who is always whining about sh*t but refuses to submit his complaints to the proper party. You know, like someone who may actually be equipped to solve your problem instead of your poor, helpless neighbor dark & stormy.

Add annoyed as hell to that list because Jose (yes that's his real name) had the nerve to be knocking at 7:19 AM. My alarm was set for 7:30 but I had already decided I was going to stay in the bed 'til 8 'cause I went to bed kinda late. When I saw his damn face through the peep hole, I became feverish with anger. Do you know this negro (marrón is more appropriate- haha) asked me if I noticed the hallway light that had went out?! And then asked me why no one has come to fix it! BTW- there are six lights in the hallway! I'm like this cannot be real. I must be dreaming. Umm... yeah so we have emergency & non-emergency contact numbers for maintenance. I do not have a door sign that says D&S Management Company. So long story short, I had to tell Jose get the hell away from my door before with that early morning bullsh*t! I tried to be nice about it. And by being nice I mean me smiling before I closed the damn door in his face. I hope he caught a whiff of my fresh-out-the bed-and-hotter-than-tar breath...

[Thick fog rolls slowly]

Fast forward to my commute to work. I catch public transportation to work everyday. Not the train, the bus. Think of it like brunch at B. Smith's vs. brunch at IHOP. I board the bus at the beginning of the bus route, so I am guaranteed to get a seat. By the fourth or fifth stop, the bus is jam packed. The ride is about 25 mins. during regular rush hour and about 35-40 during hell rush hour. With our traffic, it's more likely the latter than the former. So you can guess which one I was stuck in today.

[Dark, stratus clouds move in from the northwest]

I don't like sitting in the inside seat because I'm a tad claustrophobic and I don't like being close to the nasty window. There's usually a combination of greasy hair residue and hot breath stains (yes I do think it exists). Not saying every window looks like this, but one is more than enough for me. But I digress. So I have my usual seat close to the aisle. As the bus fills up, people have to stand in the aisles and hold on to the handle bars over head or handles on the back of the seat.
There's this dude standing right next to me. His cologne was so strong, I could taste it. Blaaahhh! He was really too short to hold on to the overhead bars but not in his mind of course. I heard him cough a couple of times but tried to ignore. Every time he coughed, he buried his head into his coat to muffle it. Every time the bus driver hit the gas, he would jerk forward (because his damn arm was too short to be holding on above) and his bag would tap my knee. After cough number three and knee tap number four, I thought I heard a baby sneeze. I coulda been wrong but I doubt it.

[Single thunder clap]

I looked up and said "Ay man, you got to go. Don't care where you stand but it won't be over top of my head." Dude looked straight at me and ignored me.

[The wind starts kickin - 5 mph]

I increased the volume and repeated my sentence. He says to me "it's crowded, nowhere to go." I paused and looked ahead as I took a deep breath and ignored the devil on my shoulder telling me to snap youngin's neck. And then he coughed again.

[Multiple thunder claps. Birds roll out in their V formation with the quickness]

I swear I had an outer-body moment. The next couple of minutes include me speaking very un-ladylike words as I shove dude's bag away from my knee and an elderly Asian woman sitting across the aisle looking at me in horror. The bus driver asks me to calm down. I tell him "let dude come stand next to you with his germy ass and then show me how calm YOU are."

[Wind gusts climb to 18 mph]

The bus driver puts on the emergency break and gets out of his seat. I already had the boxing gloves on... waiting for him to say something! Bus driver told germbucket to get off the bus. Well I'll be damned! And told me to please behave for the duration of the ride (how dare he). Shoot, I was cool then.

[Thunder stops. Winds die down to gentle whisps of air]

'Til I realized I was late for work. Again. And couldn't find my cell phone. Got to the office and my supervisor was talking smack.

All that and it wasn't even 10:00 yet. Yeah, this is not going to be a pretty one.

Ding ding ding.... Let's get ready to rumblllllllllllllllllle!!!!!!

You ain't know? I been ready. And still gotta ride home. Holla at your girl if I can put you on standby for bail money.

Tumultuously Yours,

Dark & Stormy




* He is from Spain, the country. FYI- every Spanish speaking person is not Spanish. Sorry, had to drop that PSA right quick.