Don't Tell Me What To Do...

I'm pissed.

• Sarah Palin gets affectionately called a "pit bull" and Michelle Obama is more or less characterized as a bitch, (i.e. The New Yorker cover and Fox News). What the fuck is wrong with this picture? How is it possible that because of the color of her skin she is seen as "strong" and could "run a country"? BULL SHIT! Fine, if she could do the job of 5 men and her hockey, mayoral, and Governor of Alaska experience makes her capable, all hale Queen Palin. But for fuck sake, Michelle Obama expressed passion and she is the second coming of how "they" saw Angela Davis. I am fuckin' furious. This whole bull shit idea that "our", (using the word "our" so fucking loosely, I'm calling it a whore), country is still marching on the fight for women's rights. Well at what point did that fight leave black women behind. Or was it ever with black women to begin with? When did we become so idealistic that our very existence is tied to the backs of a man or the woman behind the man or the black man that may or may not be a great movement for our country. McCain, who is either brilliant or more separated from the community we call America than I originally thought, seems so disconnected from what is happening that I'm confused what he stands for. I was at a focus group for Raeven, last night. It was fascinating to see the movement and shift that is evolving in our world, NOT JUST OUR NATION... stupid(s). It is so annoying taking the high road when the low road is yet to be paved?
• I parked my car in front of the school again on Tuesday. They wouldn't have towed me as it was the first week of school. When I got home {the super} one had moved my car. I assumed it was because of alternate sides. When I came outside this morning he all but, (as I saw it), reprimanded me for putting it there because it would have gotten towed again. Don't tell me what to fucking do? I am a grown ass woman. I know what the deal is. Well... maybe I don't. After all, it did get towed before, but don't tell me what to fucking do. I know my shit. I'm not a child! And that is when it hit me. I am a child. I went back to that little girl who always wanted to tell those folks off who "did her wrong" and "tell my mom off when she would question my EVERY move", but couldn't, because who wants to get their teeth knocked out. There is something there, but the minute someone of authority crosses me, I feel enraged.
• God, don't tell me what to do! I want to love. I want to be rich. I want to be a success. I want to live near my parents. I want to be married. I want to be a size 8... maybe a 10. I want to be the cool girl. But all the while, you keep telling me that I am in love with I and success is how you see it and you chose to move your ass, (ok so God wouldn't say that), and you will be married when you let it go, and you are a size 14, get over it, and you are a big dork, let that go too...

Funny enough, I do want someone to tell me what to do or at least push me in the right direction. O.k., o.k., that is God's job, but is it me or does He need a vaca!

By the way, I love my life! LMFAO...

P.S. I still haven't spoken to the one with out a home... homeless guy... I don't like that. His home is Brooklyn. What other name can we call him? I should find out what his name is... O.k. I am done!