How to go from a "Maybe" to a "Hell to the No"

Just when I think these artists can't get to me, an email comes in that amazes me to no end. 

We got a submission from a woman a while back and unfortunately can't do much with her work, so we sent a perfectly succinct rejection letter that read:

Dear [Cray Lady],

Thank you for submitting your artwork to our magazine. We don’t currently have an opening to feature your artwork. But the drawings are most impressive, and if the appropriate occasion arises, we will be in touch.

Sincerely,

[A respectful and competent adult who serves as the editor of this magazine.]


Maybe that was a bit impersonal, but we don't have all day to be buttering up egos. 
Apparently, we're also mentally ill. Her response:

Look at my web site I am included in every major museum collection in the country  you do not think you can do an article ?   What are you thinking [Cray Lady]. Connection

Sent from my iPhone

I have no idea what "connection" means. I also don't think that you can be that bitchy when you seem to lack a grasp of basic punctuation and grammar. I swear, they are TOO MUCH. 

I have EXHALED!

Whew child! You know these last couple weeks have been straight out of the Mayans Guide to the End of the World (now in paperback). With Hurricane Sandy and the election, I didn't know if it was okay to keep breathing, let alone have dreams! Luckily, I can now write to you with the comfort that comes from knowing that our president is not Mitt Romney and our VP is not Paul Ryan--and that my vagina is still a safe space!

Look, I'm not someone who believes Obama is a god (although I do wish he could be my dad and Joe Biden be my baby daddy!). But I am almost 100% sure that Mitt Romney and Paul Ryan are minions of Satan, so I'm happy with how things went down. For me personally, as an able-bodied, heterosexual, college-educated female in NYC, I'm somewhat sure that if the Republicans had gotten their way, I would have been inconvenienced, but mostly ok--I'd currently be packing up all my shit, figuring out how to break my lease, and asking around about how to find work in Canada (would they love a blacktress?). Plus, Jewboo probably wouldn't want to move and then we'd have to negotiate a long-distance relationship (which would probably work well since I wouldn't be able to afford birth control). I really didn't feel like starting over, so I'm glad I get 4 more years in America. Perhaps by then I will be a powerful celebrity in the vein of Brangelina and able to help the Dems hold it down yet again. 

Of course, many of us have joked about moving to Canada when the political climate got colder than life in the D, but I am for SERIOUS. I know Obama has let folks down, but I never expected him to be a magical negro, so I'm cool. And, quite frankly, I hate that the race was even close in some states. It proves that there's still so much to be done, and it's crucial that the energy that built over this election (and actually carried over on election day) be maintained as the president struggles to work with many Republicans who are dedicated to his demise. I found an NYTimes opinion piece that succinctly articulates why Tuesday's results were so hopeful:

Still, Mr. Obama’s victory did not show a united country. Richer Americans supported Mr. Romney, while poorer Americans tended to vote for Mr. Obama. There also remained clear divisions among voters by gender, age, race and religion.

African-Americans and Hispanics overwhelmingly supported Mr. Obama. White men voted for Mr. Romney; he won among those who said they opposed gay marriage, wanted to outlaw abortion, or favored mass deportation of illegal immigrants. None of those are majority positions in this country anymore. ... The polls were heartening in that they indicated that a solid majority of Americans believe abortion should be legal, and that half of Americans now say their states should recognize marriages between same-sex couples.

Of course, I added the underlines. To me, the election of Romney/Ryan would have been indicative of a growing hatred for minorities of all kinds (ethnic, racial, socioeconomic, sexual orientation)--and I would have had to get the hell out of dodge.

Besides, do we really think it's okay for one man to have his own planet and his own country?

Inside the Mind of Paul Ryan - A Collage

Y'all, why is this election even close? We need to stop bullshitting and be real about who these Republicans are--angry White men who think they're the dispossessed. 

I feel like Romney gets ample attention in these final hours, but his potential VP is ignored. This cannot stand! Paul Ryan is so bitchy, he needs his own show on Oxygen. I have assembled a few of his best facial expressions. (Yes, this is how I spent the day before election day.)

Chris Rock: Always Speakin' Truth to Comedic Power

Please forward widely to the most Caucasian people you know--especially the ones over the age of 55. We're down to the wire, people!

Stir Crazy Blog Post!!!

(You can tell it's cray by the excessive use of exclamation points.)

Hey guys! It's Halloween and day 3 of life indoors post Sandy. Surprisingly, Jewboo and I have been getting along swimmingly--besides that small spat where I called him a dick for not letting me hang my wet delicates* on his wooden suit stand. I think it's because neither of us have had to spend our days sitting at a desk doing something that we don't like. We have way more patience for each other--and ample time to sleep. I don't even want to tell you how many times the question "Did you take half an Ambien?" has been uttered in our household.
BALLS! This blog post just reminded me to take my birth control and antidepressants! Dammit, Sandy--with all the days morphing into one long gray Tuesday, I can't keep up with anything. Lord knows if I go too long without my dolls, I'll become a whirling dervish and these two cats and Jewboo won't stand a chance.

Speaking of my dolls--just found out I have nearly $2,000 in doctor bills to pay! Of course, the natural response to this is "Don't you have insurance, Blacktress?" and the answer is, unfortunately, yes! And yet somehow, the MRI and in-depth eye exam I needed to make sure my brain wasn't cancerous is actually going to run me a month's salary. If this ain't some bullshit, y'all, I don't know what is. I firmly adhere to the position that if the medical tests don't find anything wrong, you shouldn't have to pay for it. (I bet Mitt Romney's rolling over in his grave.^)

I'm not about to pull a tacky Mitt Romney and try to make the hurricane about me. My debt is nothing in the scheme of things--the fact that I've had internet and electricity and my home is in one piece, has me praising Jesus more often than a Southern woman born before 1955.  I only even mention my bills bills bills because I just opened my mail and was thrown for a loop. What do you think I should do? Remember: the season for turning tricks has just passed, so there goes that option.

On an up-note: there's no sign of power in the area surrounding my office (including our building), so I've got an unexpected 5-day weekend. Perhaps I can finally get that screenplay done and sell it for millions??? Or maybe I can  figure out how to monetize the ridiculously cute cat photos I've been taking over the last four days?

Guys, the cat is in the hamper. I'm sorry, but you'd have to have no soul to not be moved by this. Look at his big ol' eyes! I can see why White people want to adopt third-world orphans--those eyes burrow into your soul.

In summation: The only hurricane I care to be bothered with is one played by Denzel Washington. I hope you've made your donation to the red cross! If you're not sure where to direct your efforts, here's a link! 
 



*not a euphemism

^ Because the real Mitt Romney died in a forest fire 27 years ago and the cyborg put in his place is relentless in his bid for presidency, which will usher in phase one of the Robot War.

Wifi and Whedon on a Wet and Windy Day

Being a New Yorker with internet, I feel it is my duty to blog/ride the information superhighway for as long as possible so that I please the wi-fi gods and they don't take it away from me. With that, I offer you a truthy video from one of my idols, Joss Whedon. As he cleans up the kitchen after scrambling up some eggs in sunny California, he gives us some information we can all take to heart. Or maybe it just resonates with me because I watched "Walking Dead" a couple hours ago.

Re-opening My Heart Space

Oh my god, guys, I've missed you so deeply. I got to the plantation this morning and every fiber of my being said BLOG! BLOG NOW FOR THE WORLD AND YOUR SOUL!!!

(yes, even my blood vessels are dramatic)

I'd been thinking about returning to blogging for a while, but it wasn't until I hosted a show on Saturday night that I realized it might have to happen. One of the other performers told me that she'd been reading my blog since we met and she'd noticed I dropped off. "All that's left is the caucasian candy coating," she said, referring to my previous post about that Angela Bassett of a news anchor. You know my fragile ego loves the support,* and there have been so many happenings that have begged for bloggery. But before I re-open my heartspace, let me explain what's been holding me back--I feel I owe you that much.

Over the last month my fellow coworkers and I have been transferred to another plantation and it's been an awkward, tense, and cumbersome process. Between being advised to keep big corporate happenings private and not knowing where things stand with the employees who were let go, I was scared to bring attention to myself and my musings (which are mostly that this new company is a shady hot mess). I somehow managed to avoid the first round of layoffs and I'm not about to tempt fate!

As you know, Jewboo and I have been cohabiting for nigh on six months now. Of course, this has been chock-full of miscommunications, frustrations, and neuroses displayed in a multitude of healthy and unhealthy ways. As with all my big emotions, blogging about them helps me sort through it. I've discovered that it works like this: if I can make it a joke, then it's not that deep. It's good to get that kind of perspective. But when you have a sensitive live-in lover who's loyal enough to put your blog in his RSS feed, you've got to scale back. So I've mostly been releasing my emotions on stage, which is both freeing and protecting me from my lover's anger (as long as there are no cameras up in the club!!!).

But I've moved past all of these fears. As we move into the holidays and my 29th birthday; as you, my gentle reader-friends, begin to lock down your winter spoons; and as this country's racism goes from latent to blatant with the fear surrounding this year's election, I cannot be silent! A blacktress must re-emerge and share tenderly. I will open the cage in which the bird sings and help her form an a cappella group with other caged birds called "Maya Ange-Doo Wop."

I miss you. I heart you. Let's hang out.

*my ego is a drag queen named Sandy Black Nasta