If You Prick Me, Do I Not BLOG?

I realized that one of the main reasons my blogging has taken a dip is that, as my readership increases among people who actually know me, there's less room for self-expression. I'm not saying everyone should be able to handle Sojourner's Truths, but if you prick me, do I not bleed (and then blog about it to help heal)?? I've been holding out on you, gentle readers, and it just feels wrong. Here's what you've missed:

1. Two weeks ago I was denied my dream apartment. It was huge, the rent included all utilities and cable/internet, and the guy's youngest daughter is a student at my high school! When I walked in and saw books on Venus Hottentot and "Race and Gender in Post-Colonial America," I knew this potential landlord could handle my truth. He told me about his trans-racial adopted daughter (look it up, it's a term), and also said that she was interested in attending my alma mater, Diversity University. So when he ignored my emails for a week, I was shocked and dismayed--the man was a professor of Divinity, no less! How could he let me down???

2. Perhaps it was for the best, though....I did my taxes last week and apparently I'm taking too many deductions and now owe the tax man some real money--money that I don't have!!! I guess I gotta get myself out of debt before I can go signing a lease.

3. I had a job interview just a few days after the apartment/tax debacle, and thought things might be looking up. We all know how I feel about the plantation, so I'm ready to leave whenever. Add to that the fact that the overseer got fired 5 days ago (the one above the massa, not in our office), and they're cutting people's pay like a pimp with shiv, and it would seem that this interview was a gift from the heavens. The job was an admin position, but I'm just looking for something that lets me pursue my blackting dreams and pay my bills. I met with the entire staff for three hours, and they seemed to like me.

Unfortunately, I didn't like them.

Although the benefits would have been good, there was zero flexibility. I would have been manning the phones, doing spreadsheets, and planning events non-stop. "But it's really relaxed in June and July," the current admin said encouragingly. "You can take more than 10 minutes for lunch, you know?"

No, I don't know. For all the drama of my current position, I am able to run off for auditions, doctor's appointments, and generally handle my business as long as the magazine gets written.
I was going back and forth on even going back in for a 2nd interview when I got the following email from my potential boss--at 11pm last Saturday night, no less:

Please accept an apology for my delay in getting back to you. Friday turned into a nightmare because we had to completely change meetings we'd scheduled with an editor of [An Important Newspaper]. One of the paper's reporters was taken into custody early Friday by Col. Qaddafi's troops in Libya so the editor had to change his schedule for the interviews.

Y'all, I can't working in an office where Qaddafi's messin' up the flow! I get frazzled when an artist doesn't send high-resolution digital images--detainees would be a whole 'nother Oprah!

But am I an idiot? Should I have gotten out while the gettin' was good? I had dinner with a friend last night who didn't mince words, basically saying that I was a fool and lazy to not get a new apt and leave the sinking ship that is my current job.

But what about my blackting dreams? Should they wither like a raisin in the sun?

Last week's showcase was lackluster, with 15 comics performing at 6 minutes each--it was like speed-dating the audience, only they weren't interested in making a love connection. I was un-lucky number 13, and by the time I went up, their eyes had glazed over, and many were fighting with the waitresses over the bill (that drink minimum's no joke!). The producer did say he liked my energy and presence and wanted to see more work, and another comic told me to contact him about doing a set on his show, but it's not exactly momentum building.

I've been given a copy of "The Artist's Way," along with several rhyming platitudes. I think my favorite is "Man's Rejection is God's Protection." This came after my pitches to The Hairpin kept getting rejected. The editor is treating me like every man I've ever been on a date with, saying, "You're funny, but not quite right."

Le sigh. (it's more dramatic if it's French)

So here are a couple of tidbits that missed the Hairpin by a hair (how could she not love such puns?!):

Filed Under: Childhood, Television, Memories

I was cleaning stuff out of my old bedroom, and had to sort through a bunch of boxes, two of which were filled with the entire Babysitter's Club Collection. A bunch of other boxes were filled with paper, and as I prepared to dump them all in the recycling bin, the hoarder in me had to pore over every single one to make sure it was all really junk. I came across many gems, and figured the best way to preserve the memories would be to type them up and share them with strangers. Here is one of many letter I wrote to actors in my favorite TV shows.


Written in October of 1993. I was 9 years old (in my best attempt at cursive):

Dear Rider,

My name is [Sojourner], and I'm a HUGE fan of your show. You're a really good actor, and I think you're really cute. :)
When did you know you wanted to be an actor? I want to be an actress, but I don't think there are black people on Boy Meets World, so I'm trying to get on The Cosby Show. Or GHOSTWRITER--have you ever seen that show? It's about a ghost that solves mysteries by rearranging letters. It's cool.

I don't normally write fan letters, and I don't want you to think I'm a creepy stalker [note: "I am not a creepy stalker" was written on the black flap of the envelope as well...which i think is the same as saying 'i'm mentally ill'.]. I just wanted to say how much I liked your show and how cool I think you are. Is Topanga nice in real life? Do you still have to go to school, or are you done with it forever?

Sorry if my handwriting's messy. I kept trying to start over and this is my last piece of good paper, so I hope it's okay.

Sincerely,
[Sojourner 'You Can't Handle The' Truth]

When Rider got a black girlfriend in the last two seasons of the show, I knew it was no coincidence.

File under: Accomplishments, Beauty, How to be a Girl
Thai Tween is Named World's Hairiest Girl

Supatra Sasuphan has told of her delight at being named the 'World's Hairiest Girl.' She has been teased her entire life by other children calling her “monkey face” and “wolf girl”, but now the 11-year-old has been given a Guinness World Record and she says it has helped her become extremely popular at school. "I'm very happy to be in the Guinness World Records! A lot of people have to do a lot to get in," she said. "All I did was answer a few questions and then they gave it to me."



I think the questions were:

1. Are you hairy?
2. Are you pre-pubescent?
3. Is your self-esteem so healthy that grown women wanna be you?

I wonder if she's got a hip buddy named Styles who lets her surf on the hood of his van.

There's also another one about how to get through weddings as the single, my-life's-not-remotely-together-enough-to-even-begin-to-dream-about-such-a-thing friend, but I'll save that for next week.

Have a good weekend!

xoxo,

blacktress!

It Was a Dark and Stormy Black History Month.....

What up Blossoms and Joeys? I’m poking my head out of a pile of work to remind y’all to celebrate the young, gifted, and black.
Except for me.

"Why so self-loathing, Sojo?" Well, I found out yesterday that I didn’t get the job I applied for. Even though I was sorta on the fence about working for a company that would haze a prospective employee with crazy-ass MacGuyver questions, the rejection stings—especially since it means I’m no closer to getting off of this plantation. This is not what BHM is about!!

I did have my meeting with the agent on Tuesday, though, and it’s amazing how simple it was. I basically went in, read some copy (and sounded a bit too “serious” for Zyrtec eye drops—what is with me and allergy-med commercials?), and she said she’d start sending me out! I wasn’t amazing or anything, but she’s gonna give me a shot and see how I go. In business lingo, I’m “freelancing” with her, which she described as, “we’re dating. We’re getting to know each other, and if we like each other we’ll get engaged and get married.”
If only all of my relationships were so simple.

She did suggest I get new headshots, which made my wallet start to cry, but at least I’ll know what I’m aiming for. She’s really funny and motherly, and was very impressed by my put-togetherness (I have a feeling being employed in the real, non-actor world will really give me a leg up when it comes to the details). Crossing my fingers (for luck) AND my legs (for black Jesus)!

Although my day job is still rough,* at least I have some blackting opportunities coming up.

For those in the NYC area, here’s the info:
TONIGHT (2/3), 8:30pm – The Grisly Pear (107 MacDougal Street)
Wednesday, 2/9, 9pm – Under St. Marks Theater – hosting a sketch show! (8th ave btw. 1st Ave and Ave A)
Friday, 2/11, 8:30pm – ABC No Rio, Lower East Side – It’s an OK Cupid-themed comedy show, where hilarious NYC performers share there online dating horror stories.
Saturday, 2/12, 8pm – The Cove, in Williamsburg – NY Confidential storytelling show, with the unimitable Eugene Ashton! It’s very 1920s, speakeasy-style--but without the racial tensions.

* my boss actually compared himself to Hugh Heffner yesterday
Massa: I was reading The First 10 Years of Playboy and, you know, he was a revolutionary. And he never backed down. He did what he wanted to do, even when people told him he was wrong, and look at him now!
Me: So that means you don’t want me to respond to this subscriber’s e-mail?

I am Kevin Bacon.

These recent months of travel have further solidified what I already knew to be true: the world is getting smaller and smaller by the day. With Facebook taking over the world, and people twittering and flitting about, maintaining relationships is easier than ever before.

It also makes it damn near impossible to erase someone from your memory. I've found that the people I want to keep in touch with seem to not understand how to respond to emails and don't want to use skype (::cough::REDHEAD::cough::), but the dude you drunk pashed a month ago conveniently remembers your last name, how to spell it, and makes sure to get enough internet time to friend you on the ol' facebook.

I was first caught off guard a week ago, when I got a friend request from the 21-year-old Canadian I met in Darwin. You know, the one I made out with simply because I was bored and wanted to get the Weasley twin out of my system (it didn't work). He was a nice enough fellow, but there was no point in getting attached, and there didn't seem to be much going on upstairs, so I walked away with no dramas, and expected him to disappear into the ether. He'd asked for my last name and plugged it into his mate's phone, but what are the odds that a barely legal random you'd interacted with for a total of 4 hours would actually follow through?

Apparently, quite high. I believe his first wall post was: "hey, didn't think i'd ever find u, ty took your last name out of the phone, dumb ass. but then i remember u did comedy and i u tubed you, funny story. where are u now?"

The internet will be the death of me!!! I keep forgetting that in some circles, telling someone you're a "blacktress" is quite memorable--especially when that person is from Saskatchewan.

Just when I was done marveling at the spinning tea cups that are our small world, I was dealt another shocking blow of connections this very morning. Here's the go:
As you know, I was in St. Croix last week and met a random--the one who looked like Duane 'The Rock' Johnson. Last night I put up a few photos on f-book--you know, to incite jealousy in friends. In the background of a few of these photos was The Rock. This morning I get the following message:

Hi Blacktress

I'm a friend of one of your friends, and when she asked me to view your comedy video in AUS I added you as a friend. Just happened to open my FB home page and in your vacation pics saw a picture of my brother THE ROCK--he lives and works in St. Croix.. hes visiting NY now, just had a laugh about how small the world is. When he gets back from visiting friends I'll have to tell him. He'll laugh.

Hope you enjoyed your vacation! - Belle

Oh. my. god. I am the black female Kevin Bacon.

So, I immediately logged on to facebook (a nasty habit that began when I living on the other side of the world), and Belle happens to be online. We immediately start chatting, and I tell her about the drunk kiss and the fact that her bro was blowing up my celly this weekend, even asking to come to the stand-up show I had Saturday night. I am hesitant to tell her that he seems like a total toolbox and completely not good for me....until she brings it up.
Our convo went something like this:

Belle: Oh my god, this is too funny. I wish I could tell [our mutual friend] right now. I'm always telling her what a loser my brother is.
Me: hahahhaa, oh no! oh sweet jesus, i am starting off my nyc single life on the wrong foot.
Belle: Seriously. They should put up flyers around St. Croix, "do not kiss this man."
Me: I will do it. I will return to Pirate Island and warn other wenches.

[later, after more man-related banter, including her venting about her bro, I break out the TRUTH]

Me: Your brother is--no offense, I say this as an astute woman of color and writer who has kissed him on the mouth--a selfish man-boy who thinks of no one but himself.
Belle: you are my new best friend, lol.
Because it takes people years to see that about him.

Okay, guys, let's break this down: when a dude's own sister not only tells you he sucks, but then allows you to talk shit about him, you know you've dodged a bullet. I mean, this is out of control.
But also wonderful.
I'm going to start putting up pics of every potential suitor on my facebook page nad see which of my internet friends knows the clown. I'm sure one of them is bound to have some inside information, corroborating or debunking my beliefs. So far, I'm glad I trusted my gut and didn't return The Rock's phone calls. If he can't even be nice enough to his sister so that she at least lies for him, then you know he wasn't going to bring a damn thing to the blacktress' potluck.