I'm it!

So, Marlo tagged me and I have the musical baton. Cool – I’ll let you know what I have in my digital crates…

Total volume of music on my computer

Well over 1600 songs. Some of these are from CDs I bought, downloaded music from questionable sites and downloaded music from pay-per-use sites. I’ve been burned enough times over the years to not want to buy any more CDs.

Nowadays, I am very happy shelling out a few dollars for virus/spyware-free music from MSN.ca or getting the hookup from my co-worker who always seems to get new music before it’s released.

No way am I going to buy Jennifer Lopez’s entire album for Get Right. No way in hell.

Waste of cash: Last CD(s) I bought

It has been a long time since I’ve bought a CD, but like Marlo’s situation, HMV was have a two for $30 sale and I decided to buy Kanye West’s College Dropout and Jill Scott’s Beautifully Human, Vols. I & II.

Sigh.

With Mr. West’s album, I loved Jesus Walks, Through the Wire and All Falls Down – three songs that, I assumed, set the tone for the rest of the CD. Well, I made an ass outta me, ‘cause the rest of the album sucked. Maybe it didn’t suck, but it certainly wasn’t the hip hop that I’d been looking for. I loved Jill Scott’s first two CDs, so why wouldn’t I like number three? I based my purchase on that and was disappointed. I enjoyed one song, Golden, and that was that. The CD is sitting on my CD rack collecting dust.

Amerie could have been one of those sad purchases. I loved her first album All I Need, so when I heard her sophomore album, Touch, was going to drop, I wanted it. I almost bought it. Yo, when I heard it at Marlo’s place, I wasn’t impressed. Every song sounds like 1Thing – cool if you’re a Go Go fan. I, as you probably know, am not.

What sucks is that I can’t return the CDs because HMV will only let you exchange – obviously because of the thousands of thieves who will burn the CD and take it back.

So, those were the last CDs that I bought – why should Kanye make money off of me and I don’t even get a good CD out of it. This is why I will buy Omarion’s Touch online and he can keep the rest of his CD.

Song playing right now

Actually, I’m not playing anything right now – my MP3 player is sitting snugly in my handbag in my desk. But, if I were to be listening to music, today feels like a Bobby Valentino day and I’d be listening to Give Me A Chance, Bobby Valentino feat. Ludacris.

There’s something about that song that just makes me think about beaches, aquamarine water and resort life. I feel like dashing on a white bathing suit when I hear that song and strutting by the pool... unfortunately, I doubt the folks at work would take to me sitting at my desk in a bikini while I create stories for our Intranet.

Dang, I need a vacation.

Five songs I listen to a lot or mean a lot to me

I Can’t Make You Love Me – Bonnie Raitt (1991). I’ve loved this song for a dog’s age. It’s the wanting… the pining in the song that makes it just so sad, yet good. It reminds me of all the times I’ve loved off some likkle frou-frou boy only to have him not like me. High school was very much like that…

I Like the Way (The Kissing Game) – Hi Five (1992). This was my joint way back in 1992 when I was in my last year at Lachine High in Lachine, Quebec. I hated high school – no fun stories like Starfoxx – mainly pain, suffering and gnashing of teeth. But in 1992, I knew the end way nigh. I was going to get my tail the heck out of high school and go to CEGEP (our version of junior college) where I could reinvent myself. My prom was cool, ‘cause it was the first time my parents’ let me go to a school dance and they played my song. And I couldn’t wait to be finished with all those wretches from LHS.

One More Chance – Notorious B.I.G. (1994). First things, first, I, Sista, freaks all honeys, dummies, playboy bunnies, those wanting money… I know I’m a nerd. I so wanted to be in this video. My young girlfriends and I would daydream about going to the club and hanging out, just like folks in Biggie’s video did. Then, recently, I heard El Debarge’s Stay With Me and I made the connection. Both of those songs are still hot. Juicy and Big Poppa were also tight tracks – made even better when I heard the originals that were sampled.

Silver and Gold – Kirk Franklin & The Family (1993). This is one of my favourite gospel tracks. I was working at Mr. Rapps factory (the summer before my third year of university, I worked for the evil Mr. Rapps at a factory in west-end Montreal. My job was to stuff athletic knapsacks – Michigan, UNLV, Grambling – with stiff brown paper. This was a wakeup call to me that I needed to finish my degree and get the hell out of Montreal before this became my life...) and the people there were about to drive a young Urban Sista to drink. So, I pulled out my Kirk Franklin cassette and played that song all day long. Suffice it to say, I finished my degree, moved to T.O. and never stepped into Mr. Rapps factory again.

Pump Me Up – Krosfyah (mid ‘90s). This song reminds me of my beautiful island, Barbados. When I hear this song, I’m transported to Bridgetown, Barbados and I’m standing in front of Cave Shepherd watching the people go by as my sister receives no service from the disgusted salespeople in the jewellery and fragrance departments. Or, I’m chilling at my aunt’s in St. Philip, listening to my cousin’s girlfriend tell me stories about the evil steel donkey and duppies all around. I love BIM and I can’t wait to go back.

So, who to tag? I’d like to hear what Ms. Solitaire has to say about her music as well as wild child Starfoxx15. If Lady Abena checks in, I’m sure she’d have some live choices as well.

Blingles: A social experiment

So, last night my friend Janette and I decided to go to this relatively new singles thing in Toronto, Blingles.

Now, one of my co-workers had gone to a Blingles event a few months back and he wasn’t too impressed, but being the social anthropologist that I am, I said, ‘what the heck? Lemme go and see how Black singles mingle.”

I broke it down to the boyfriend that I was going to be Janette’s wingwoman while I did my research. I’ve never been to a singles’ event before. The closest I’ve come to an event like this was First Fridays which is supposedly based on professional networking, but really is a way to meet men or women. I owe one doomed relationship and one bad date to the First Fridays’ gang.

But I digress; this is not a blog about bad dates… that will be done another time. This is a blog about how single Black folk are meeting up in the big city.

Black and single looking to mingle: The rules

Janette sent me an e-mail with the Blingles’ rules. Yes, folks, they have rules. I thought I was going to have to sign a waiver before I got through the doors. But, anyway, read on:

Rule #1: In order to attend Blingles you must truly be single and must not suffer from girlfriend/boyfriend or wife/husband amnesia. Well, I had to fib a little – but I don’t mind suffering for the study of anthropology.

Rule #1a: YOU MUST BE ON TIME!!!! Things start at 8pm Sharp. Don’t try to be fashionably late, (or you’ll miss everything). Ha! We’re dealing with Black people here. And, as much as I love my people, if you say 8 pm, the folks will waltz in a 9 pm.

Rule #1b: TRY TO LOOK GOOD, CUTE, you know spruce it up a little ... Remember this is a single's event.

Rule #2: You should leave your business cards at home, but be ready to have good conversation, and not hide behind what you do for a living.

Rule #3: You should come with an open mind and ready to have a good time. Leave all attitudes at the door and whatever else happened to you that day. Janette and I had a good belly laugh about this one. Only at a Black singles’ event will people have to be told to ‘leave all attitudes at the door.’ LOL!

Rule #4: You should not wear your heart on your sleeve and throw all caution to the wind, in hopes of finding your soul mate, but come looking good, feeling good and have the attitude of if it happens it happens, but I’m going to enjoy myself in the process.

Rule #5: You must take part in the interactive games. There will be interaction from the time you enter the door, and we have some fun contests… What Song Is This? Funny Dating Stories.

Rule #6: There is a dress code for Spring Bling, it’s look good be comfortable and wear spring colors if you can. But bearing that in mind, make sure you are comfortable enough to walk and and have a good time. Yo, if a woman is putting on this event, she should know that looking cute and wearing comfortable shoes don’t always mix. So, make sure there are enough seats.

Rule #7: Don't be afraid of Blingles, and if it's not the event for you, still help us spread the word, as it may be the event for your cousin, sister, brother, parents, close friends or someone else you work with.

Rule #8: If the people at Blingles aren't cute enough for you I'm sorry, remember this is all for fun, make the most of your night!!! Is this a warning? Janette said ‘no refunds or exchanges – what you see is what you get!’ This is a little scary to me: forewarning your clientele that the people you meet may not be attractive. Hmmm…

Rule #9: If any of these rules offended you in any way, then this may not be the event for you... and if they didn't... SEE YOU ON THURSDAY NIGHT AT SUGAR NIGHT CLUB 8PM SHARP!!!!

OK, so those are the rules. Let’s get started.

Looking for love…

Janette picked me up at Scarborough Town Centre – (side note here ladies: while waiting for Janette at STC, I saw ‘nuff sisters wearing summer gear: light coloured pants and skirts and hard white panties. I understand that sometimes you don’t feel like wearing a thong or G-string, but, for heaven’s sake, put on dark-coloured underpants) -- around 7:35 pm and we headed down to Sugar Nightclub on Duncan St. in the heart of the Entertainment district.

Seems like Urban Sista’s summer is starting off fast and furious – I’m not a woman who likes to be out of her house on a weeknight. But, hey, I stood around in a line for two hours waiting to see Faith, why not go to a grassroots singles event?

We got to Sugar at around 8:10 pm and we paid $20 each to get in. Twenty dollars of my hard earned cash. Chupse. I had been promised in the e-mail finger foods, so I didn’t stress to hard. At least I’d have a belly full. The hostess handed us each a piece of paper with icebreaker questions and we went in.

There were about 20 people there and guess what? Fifteen of them were women.

Janette and I looked at each other. “If you want someone, you gotta jump on them,” she said as we looked around.

But the evening was still young. “We’re here to meet people, not necessarily men,” Janette said as we spoke to female after female to get the answers for our icebreaker questions. At 9 pm, there were about 19 women to six men and Janette and I both knew one of the guys there, it was really 19 to 5.

The odds were clearly for the men. There were 3.8 women for every man. We were fed up with the questionnaire at this point – I’m saying, it at 8:30 pm there is no one with a last name that starts with B and no one new has shown up by 9, there will still be no one with a last name that starts with B.

But there was a rush of men at around ten after nine. OK, not a rush… maybe a drizzle. About six or seven new guys arrived, along with about 10 more women. When we were ushered into the next room, we were at 30 women to 12 men.

There were 2.5 women for every man.

Sigh.

We went to check out the finger foods. I was expecting some hot snacks – Swedish meatballs, some wings – and the usual, chips, shrimp ring, etc. Well, imagine my surprise when I saw two Girl Guide cookies, some peanut brittle, corn puffs and two measly shrimp rings.

“Two man hands in there and the food is done,” said Janette as we surveyed the food sadly. “My parents always told me to eat before I went out and this is the reason.”

The guys – and girls – were pretty friendly. Janette and I were told that we were some of the friendlier ladies at the event. You know how some women do: five girlfriends in a corner waiting for guys to approach. We weren’t any different, just that we were standing at the bar and smiling at people when they walked by.

This was a singles event. We were trying to meet people. So, what’s with sticking up in a corner cracking jokes with your girls? Janette already knows me; this was the opportunity to meet other folks… to meet men. Sheesh.

I met some really nice guys who, on a regular Thursday night, would probably be at home watching sports or playing video games. None of them were Boris Kodjoe look-alikes, but they were decent, well-employed guys who really wanted to meet someone. They may not have been the guys for me, but the 10 or 11 guys seemed nice enough… at first meeting anyway.

Welcome to Blingles!

At 9:15 pm, the event started.

“Welcome to Blingles!” said Blingles’ founder Anne-Marie Woods. “We’re going to get started!”

“Wait? Welcome? We’re going to get started?” I checked my watch. “So, what have I been doing for the past hour?”

“They’ve only used about $5 of the $20 they took from me. So, things better get started fast,” said Janette. I sucked my teeth and hoped for the best. The venue was nice, but it was a club only the Blingles folks had opted for the lights on rather than off. Everyone was holding up the walls: boys at the back, girls at the sides.

The night got started… started, I’ve been there for nearly an hour and a half and things are getting started. Chupse. Anne-Marie made everyone move to one side of the room to watch her lip-synching, dance presentation.

Right...

So, explain to me how that is conducive to meeting people? It was fun to watch, but being the social anthropologist/scientist I am, it seemed that having people watch something and not mingle detracts from the actual talking to one another.

There was a lot of stuff like that, including a lip synching performance by one Cocoa Bean. Cocoa Bean was one of the Blingles' girls dressed up like Madonna who did a little dance to Holiday. I think that’s when Janette said, “I feel like I’m in someone’s basement.”

LOL!!! Gasp! LOL!!!

It was a sad Grade 8 dance with a weird interpretative dance thrown in. I looked at my watch – it was 10:15 pm. Cocoa Bean did another dance to Janet Jackson’s Lonely and I didn’t know what to think, besides, this portion of the night was definitely NOT worth my $20.

Let’s get the party started

At 10:30 pm, we had to dance with someone and when the host said, “switch!” we had to find another partner. That was the most enjoyable part of the evening – people were loosened up and ready to joke around and get down.

I danced with most of the guys who were there. Some I danced well with, some I didn’t dance so well with – a metaphor for the relationship possibly? But no one was slimy or gross. Men showed their interest, but in a very respectable manner. Not by presenting a dance card or anything like that, but not by doing anything stupid, like throwing a rock at me or tripping me in a dark club (that actually happened to a friend of mine at the upstanding establishment of Epiphany).

After a shy smile, a man would approach and strike up a conversation while dancing: “How are you? Are you enjoying the night so far?” A few guys hung back, holding up the walls, but I chalk that up to shyness or they thought they were too nice. Whatever, some of the women were doing the exact same thing.

The conclusion

Well, we danced for about half an hour and that was the highlight of the evening. Janette and I left, after she met a nice young man.

Let’s be honest, Blingles is definitely not worth the $20 that I had to pay to get in. If you’re going to charge me $20, I better see more than Cocoa Bean carrying on or Anne-Marie dancing.

There should be dating stations, where an interested couple can go and chitchat quietly and privately if the mood strikes them. There should be Blingles branded cards that you can write down your contact information so when Mr. Man pulls out your number or you pull out his, you remember where you met each other. Maybe even a little speed meeting component -- that way everyone gets to meet everyone else.

And don’t even get me started on the finger foods – some more thought should be definitely put into that.

Little things like that will make me feel like I’m at a real live singles’ event, not someone’s basement party, starring Cocoa Bean and Anne-Marie Woods.

But, all in all, it was a very interesting way to meet new people. I don't think you need to pay so much for it, but since everyone is there for the same reason -- to meet someone -- there are no uncomfortable moments. You may not meet your soul mate, but you will meet, if you’re willing to, some interesting people.

Oooh, Lord Vader

I went to see Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith this weekend. It's a pretty good movie and I'm no Star Wars fan.

The story was interesting. The special effects were crazy. And Hayden Christensen makes one hot Darth Vader.

I saw Episode II and, really, the boy did nothing for me. Attractive enough, I guess, but nothing special.

But, dang, the boy's grown up over the past three years. I can't blame Desperate Housewives' Eva Longoria for trying to get with the young buck.

As Anakin Skywalker, Christensen is good. As Lord Vader? Wow. He was all dark eyed and menacing -- it was all good until he totally lost it and was turned into the Darth Vader that breathes heavily and wants to rule tings.

This time, my celebrity crush is of age -- a little younger than me, but totally legal.

**********

On another note, I was watching 106 & Park this afternoon on BET and my illegal boyfriend, Omarion was on. The child is the same size as Free. The dude is tiny -- not short, but tiny. So, while I'm short myself, I can't daydream about a little small pint-sized man.

Sigh. At least he may have a couple more years to grow.

Memories: From Toronto to New York with Love

I was listening to my old school jams and Nu Shooz's I Can't Wait came on.

Gasp!

It's been exactly one year since my disastrous New York bus trip. Twelve hours to New York and twelve hours back with a bunch of rag-tag disgusting brutes on a bus with no shocks or suspension. The washroom wasn't equipped with running water or working lights. Definitely not Urban Sista's style.

I didn't get to see Times Square or the Statue of Liberty (well, I saw that in the distance). No shopping at Victoria's Secret or Express. No Chocolate Sisters in the City as I had hoped.

Thank goodness for my MP3 player and some good old school tunes.

So, in homage to everyone who will be subjecting themselves to a long distance bus trip this long weekend, I've decided to highlight my From Toronto to New York with Love blog.

Have a great long weekend!

I had Faith the concert would have happened…

…but as far as I’m concerned, it didn’t. I didn’t see Faith Evans last night and not for lack of trying.

Maybe Faith did come on stage at Tonic, but after nearly three hours of waiting and standing – thank God for comfy, cute shoes – I realized, I don’t like Faith that much. Besides, would Faith have stood up for three long hours outside on Richmond St. waiting for Urban Sista to appear?

Heck, no.

I swear I have no luck with this whole live music thing. Actually, I have no luck with Flow 93.5 FM. This radio station is forever screwing things up when it comes to concerts and events. I should have named this blog, ‘I hate Flow 93.5 FM’.

Because I do hate them.

Every time I go to a Flow event – Flowfest in 2002, the sadness that was the New Edition concert and now Faith’s intimate and exclusive appearance at Tonic Nightclub, which was neither intimate nor exclusive.

MarloGirl and I headed downtown yesterday evening – Marlo, being the superstar she is was invited to this event and I was the lucky person that got to go with her. We were looking cute and stylish and I was looking forward to hearing Faith live. The invite said 7 p.m.

When we got to Tonic, we saw a large group of people just lollygagging at the corner of Richmond and Peter Sts. Hmmph, I thought, it’s just after 7 p.m. why aren’t they letting anyone in?

The last time I had been to an event like this was when I saw Craig David at Indian Motorcycle a couple of years back compliments of Solitaire. When I arrived at Indian Motorcycle, I was quickly ushered in to the lounge and went upstairs. If the event started at 7 o’clock, Craig David was onstage by 7:45 pm the latest. He performed about five or six songs and was done by 8:30 pm.

But that event wasn’t put on by Flow.

So, we’re waiting, waiting, waiting and at around 7:45 or so, we’re told to line up. For anyone who’s never gone to Tonic, there’s a little alleyway beside the club where you line up.

And while we’re on the topic of Tonic Nightclub, why in goodness name would you book Faith there? While the place isn’t a pit, it surely isn’t a live music venue. There is no ambience and there are maybe seats for 30 people.

Marlo and I lined up along with two of her friends and we waited. And waited. And waited some more. As if the crowd wasn’t getting annoyed enough, an irate pigeon was randomly pooping on people.

In situations like these, it makes no sense to get tense and vex, so I people watched. And, Lord forgive me, people in Toronto have the most jacked up weaves ever. I have nothing against weaves – I have worn a couple in my lifetime – but if you’re going to get a weave, get the best weave in the store. Enough with buying the $5 a pack hair, girls. It looks like crap.

And when the weave mats together and is one big clump, that’s when it’s time to pull that bad boy out and start afresh.

I’m not leaving the brothers out. Guys, I don’t know a lot about razor bumps, but if the back of your head is a collage of bumps and blisters, please go to a dermatologist and get that mess checked out. Until then, wear a hat.

But back to the line.

A homeless person decided to scout the line for people to hit up money from. Lucky we were a line of kind hearted folks, ‘cause a few people donated to his cause. I learned in the line that tall men have no manners when they reach their big arms over top the heads of small women and mash down the sisters' hairdos. And you know how long it takes for a Black woman to do her hair.

Overall, it was a good crowd – no bad-behaviour and for the most part, people with good manners.

The four of us are waiting and finally the line starts moving. It’s about 8:30 pm when we got inside Tonic and it was packed. There could have been at least 300 people in there. I thought this was going to be an intimate and exclusive thing with maybe 70 people or so in the joint.

Ha.

It was like was Saturday night at a club. The music was bumping and we made our way through to crowd to the washrooms – which were already nasty and half-clogged by the time we made it in.

Marlo was griping that she was hungry. I wasn’t hungry, but I was getting miserable because it had been an hour and a half of my time wasted. I could have been at home watching the finale of America’s Next Top Model or getting ready to watch American Idol. Time well spent is not time hitched up in a dark club on a Wednesday night.

I had to work in the morning.

And if things didn’t get started soon, I was going to bounce. Marlo looked as if she was ready to hit the door after we used the ladies room.

Marlo and I are short. No two ways about it. Even in our high heels, people were towering over us blocking our sightlines. So, we were manoeuvring through the club trying to find the best place to see the stage, in hopes that Faith would come onstage soon.

But there was no good place to stand, because, like I said before, Marlo and I are short. We ended up in the back by the deejay booth, arms folded, heads bopping to Digable Planets, A Tribe Called Quest and Sweet Sable. That’s all fine and dandy, but I didn’t leave the warmth and comfort of my place in Scarborough to travel downtown on a weeknight to go to an old skool jam.

It was almost nine o’clock. I wanted to see Faith.

Now.

“You ready? ‘Cause, I’m ready to go,” said Marlo in her girly-girl voice.

“Whenever you’re ready,” I said. When the ride is ready to go, you go, right? Right.

Marlo’s friend, Bashy, objected. “Why are you going? They said she was going to be on in 15 minutes.”

I never heard this announcement. But I was willing to wait the fifteen minutes – if she was really going to perform in fifteen minutes.

I don’t know why I believe these Flow people’s deceitful announcements anyway. In February, they were trying to convince me that at 11 pm, New Edition – although they were circling Buttonville Airport in Markham – were going to perform at the Hummingbird Centre.

Chupse.

I should have learned my lesson then. But because I didn’t know that this was a Flow sponsored event, I schlepped my backside downtown.

Nine-fifteen came and went and still no Faith. Marlo looked at me. The girl was famished and I think she turns into a mean hungry person.

“If nothing happens by nine-thirty, let’s go,” I said.

More old skool joints. People were squeezing by in the rammed club with plenty of drinks. I know Tonic made some good money last night on the drinks alone.

No announcements. No statements. No live music.

No nothing.

I looked at my watch: nine-thirty. No Faith. Not even a backup singer onstage.

“What time is it?” Marlo asked.

“Nine-thirty.”

“Alright. It’s time to go.” I agreed.

I mean, it had been almost three hours standing with nothing happening besides waiting. Let’s put this in perspective: would Faith wait three hours for Urban Sista to go onstage? I like Faith, but I don’t like her that much.

“You’re leaving already?” asked Bashy, surprised. Ahhh, to be young again. When I was in my early 20s, I may have hung around. But I have no interest in just waiting around to possibly see a singer.

Marlo and I bounced. By the time we left downtown, it could have been around 9:45 pm.

Three hours of my life wasted.

Now, Faith possibly went on at 10 or 10:30 or 11 pm, but I didn’t care. I wanted to see her perform until about 9 pm. At nine, I lost all interest in Faith, her singing and everything else.

If an invitation says, 7 pm, I expect something to happen at 7 pm. Not three or more hours later.

As Marlo said, it’s just plain rude. Have I not anything else to do with my night? If Faith couldn’t make it onstage until 11 pm, have the invitation for 10 pm so I can choose whether or not I want to be out of my house until all hours of the night. Don’t have me waiting around like an idiot for three hours plus.

But, damn that Flow, that’s their modus operandi.

I am boycotting any Flow event from now on. I’m disgusted with them and their lack of organization and planning.

Chupse.

What about your friends?

I was at home by myself yesterday evening and an old friend popped into my mind. I haven’t seen or spoken to her in about five years, but for whatever reason, I started wondering what she was up to. I guess it’s because my dad pulled out my high school yearbook and I started to reminisce.

I miss my buddy, but I refuse to contact her.

Maybe it’s my pride… it’s totally my pride.

Her actions hurt me so badly – this was the person I had been best friends with since I was 12. I always thought that she would be in my wedding and godmother to my kids. We went to our first Carifiesta party together. We went to Caribana together. We did pretty much everything together.

Things don’t always work out how you think they would.

When I took the long drive down the 401 to Toronto in 1998, I didn’t think my friend and I wouldn’t keep in touch. We had started to grow apart – she was focused on a boyfriend that I couldn’t stand. I was focused on getting my tail out of Quebec. But just because we were concentrating on different things didn’t mean that we couldn’t remain strong friends.

She said to me, when I told her I was leaving, “I can’t believe my buddy is leaving me!”

I was already soured by some of her antics: being too busy to talk or forgetting that we made plans because she was hanging out with some dude. But we were like chalk and cheese or batty and bench.

In the beginning, she would visit – well, she would visit her boyfriend in Toronto and stay with me. We would hang out, but she was here to visit her man. When the man treated her poorly and I said something, she said to me: “You’re not in a relationship. You don’t understand. That’s why I like to talk to my friends who aren’t single.”

Why don’t you slap me in my face? Good advice is good advice whether you’re in a couple or not, but a lot of women just don’t want to hear about their men.

Once she and the man broke up, she wouldn’t visit as often, but we’d talk.

Then she hooked up with a blasted idiot. He refused to let – you read it right – her wear makeup. He would drape her up in public talking about ‘you’re disrespecting me!’ and try to bang down her parents’ front door when she had had enough and broke up with him.

He said after meeting me, my sister and some other friends that he didn’t like university-educated women. Friends would tell me they didn’t understand why she was with him. I had my ideas, but when I broached the subject, she told me: “He says that you’re jealous of our relationship.”

I met the man once and he tried to rough me up at Harbourfront. Jealous of the relationship? No. A big, dirty, dislike for his black ass? Yes.

After that conversation, the friendship started to drop off.

I’d call, she’d be busy. I’d e-mail, she wouldn’t respond. When I went back home to visit, I’d call, but she wouldn’t call back until it was too late to make plans.

When I visited Montreal about a year or so after I moved to Toronto, my best friend, another friend, Corey and I were supposed to meet downtown for dinner. I got to the restaurant to see a grinning Corey, but no best friend.

“She said she had something to do,” Corey said sympathetically. Maybe she did have something else to do, but she couldn’t take a few hours out of her Friday night?

One thing made it very clear that she wasn’t making any effort to be my friend: Easter Weekend, she and Corey decided to visit Toronto.

Corey called me and said, “Hey Urban Sista, we’re in Toronto!” It was Good Friday.

“Cool!” I said. “What are you up to?”

“We’re going to visit my uncle in Mississauga and then maybe we can hook up.”

“Is [INSERT NAME] there?”

“Oh, she’s in the bathroom.”

“OK, well, I’ll be home. Give me a call and we’ll do something.”

Friday, came and went. Saturday, came and went. Sunday came and went. Late Sunday evening I got a call. Not from my best friend, but from Corey. They were heading to Mississauga and wouldn’t have a chance to visit me.

I wanted to cry. I missed my parents – I couldn’t go home for Easter and my so-called best friend couldn’t even pick up the phone to call and make plans to see me. Folks, I waited by the phone not wanting to miss the call.

I was hurt. If the friendship was done, why couldn’t she just say something? What you would say, I don’t know, but something. I don’t know what I did to offend her – if anything.

It wasn’t the first time she had hurt my feelings, but this time it was blatant. How are you going to visit Toronto and not visit me? I could understand if you were here for a wedding or something and just didn't have the time, but you’re just coming to visit.

That’s when I smartened up.

Friendship is a two-way street, not me trying to be your friend and you choosing when and how you’ll be my friend. I stopped calling. I stopped e-mailing. I stopped trying to make an effort to see her.

Like I told my friend Steve, I make an effort to see someone who makes the effort to see me. She never made the effort to see me. So, why would I go out of my way to see her?

She let a man get between our friendship – it wasn’t the first time. The dude in Toronto also said I was jealous of their relationship. I was annoyed by how he treated her (if a man ignores you all night, then at 3 a.m. wants to take you home, that isn’t love. It’s a booty call), but she preferred believe that I was envious of that she had a boyfriend and she didn’t.

Maybe because she had been envious of other people having boyfriends when she was single.

This experience has taught me a lot:

• I always make time for my girlfriends. I have a boyfriend and I love spending time with him, but I love being with my girls. I balance my time – sometimes to the point where he complains that I have to schedule him in between my outings with friends.
• If a man is constantly telling you that your friends are jealous of the relationship, dash the man, he’s up to no good.
• Never want a man so desperately that you put up with mess from him.
• Appreciate your girlfriends.

Anyway, Corey and I are still friends, she’s moved to Toronto and we hang out every now and then. I’ve become friends with some wonderful women and we have pure jokes when we’re together.

I don’t know if I’m going to try to get in touch with my ex-best friend. Every now and then I hear that she’s with/not with the man and I know I don’t want that drama in my life.

But that being said, if she was to reach out to me, I’d definitely reach back.

West Indians vs. African Americans vs. Africans

I saw this article at BlackPlanet and I thought it was quite interesting. Well, I don't know if it's interesting or just... divisive.

The author, Dan Woog, obviously makes a point, but I think many times Black people are looking for reasons to divide themselves. Dr. Craig Polite makes an... ahem... interesting point about the relationship between West Indians and African Americans.

He said, "It's more like an undertone of conflict, particularly between those born in the Caribbean and those born in the US. It doesn't surface a lot, but people from the islands have the impression they're a little bit smarter, a little more superior. It doesn't get talked about, but it's there."

Mr. Polite is most likely African-American because while he readily points out the ills of everyone else, he doesn't say anything about the attitudes of African-Americans, 'cause if you're going to say one, you better say two. I'm sure that African-Americans have their own set of issues that unnerve West Indians and Africans, but Mr. Woog forgot to mention any of them -- subjective journalism at it best.

Yes, I'll agree that West Indians have a certain self-confidence. A lot of our parents taught us to believe in ourselves -- whether we were born on an island or in North America. But there is something to be said for the West Indian work ethic. Many times people from the Islands come to North America with absolutely nothing but the desire to do something for themselves and we're condemned?

Chupse. That's a load of ignorance.

Larri Mazon most ignorantly says, "(Islanders) don't know an employer may stab you in the back, whereas American-born blacks might see that willingness to work so hard as a 'yes, massa' attitude."

But wait *anger starts to build*.

We 'Islanders' are a pack of idiots? We don't have trouble at work back in Barbados, Jamaica, Trinidad or any other island in the Caribbean? Maybe back in the day we thought that the streets of North America were paved in gold, but we aren't fools. We know that we are the minority in North America. We know that we have to work twice or three times are hard as a white person to get as far. It's annoying that someone would make it seem like these little backwards, fresh off the boat Islanders don't know what the hell they're doing.

Sigh.

You see, these are the things that cause division in the Black community. Whether you are from St. Lucia, New York, Toronto or Ghana, the first thing that white people will see is your skin is Black. They could care less about our intracultural arguments. We are all the same -- we were just taken off the boat at different stops.

It's divide and conquer -- why is this article even necessary? It sounds like the African-Americans in this article are acting 'superior'.

Anyway, read for yourself. I'd love to read comments.

Intracultural Conflicts
By Dan Woog, Monster Contributing Writer, 05/09/05

In the world of 21st-century demographic descriptors, "African American" seems straightforward: If your skin is black, you trace your ancestry back to Africa, and if you're in America, you are American.

But society has never viewed race in such simple terms. Today, recognition is growing for the historical and cultural differences among US-born African Americans, those who emigrated from the Caribbean and recent arrivals from Africa. As foreign-born blacks grow increasingly common in the workplace, intracultural conflicts may also increase.

The percentage of those with black skin who are foreign-born in the US rose from 4.9 percent to 6.7 percent between 1990 and 2000, according to Census Bureau data analyzed by Susan Weber of Queens College, as reported in the New York Times on August 29, 2004.

An Undercurrent of Tension

Dr. Craig Polite, a clinical and industrial psychologist, calls it "tension with a small 't.' It's more like an undertone of conflict, particularly between those born in the Caribbean and those born in the US. It doesn't surface a lot, but people from the islands have the impression they're a little bit smarter, a little more superior. It doesn't get talked about, but it's there."

Cynthia Swift, who teaches multicultural issues in the Graduate School of Education and Allied Professions at Fairfield University in Fairfield, Connecticut, and is coordinator of the Academic Advantage program, agrees. "The legacy of colonialism impacts each group, along with how people are introduced to and have access to work," she says. "People born in Africa have a different perspective on opportunities and rights at work than those who were born here, who have their own perspective on this country's history of discrimination."

All three groups share "misinformation and a lack of understanding of each other," she adds.

The Historical Legacy

When African Americans living in the South moved north in the '30s and '40s to fill low-paying jobs, they fought for their rights, demanded access to better jobs and were often unwilling to continue ill-paying work under poor conditions.

When recent immigrants reached the US, some with good educations and willing to start at the bottom and work several jobs to achieve success, some employers viewed them as "better workers, with better attitudes" than African Americans, says Swift. It worsened in hard economic times when more people vied for fewer jobs. And the situation is exacerbated in communities where young American-born blacks think, "it's better to be cool than smart," she explains. Comedian Bill Cosby decried this phenomenon when speaking at a college graduation in spring of 2004.

Majority to Minority

"People from the islands grow up as part of the dominant culture," says Larri Mazon, director of Multicultural Relations at Fairfield University. "They come from a country run by people who look like them. They don't understand what it's like to be seen as not a valid contributor to society. When they get here, they may pick up on the stereotypical attitude toward blacks and think, 'I'm not born here. I'm not like them.'"

African-born immigrants also come from countries where people are physically homogenous. Because of visa requirements and immigration restrictions, they often arrive here with skills that immediately vault them into the upper echelons of business.

Mazon notes that he is talking primarily about African-born men. Their male-dominated culture can mean chauvinistic attitudes. "I've heard many complaints from black women about male African supervisors," he says.

Resentment also extends to immigration policies that allow Caribbean islanders to work what Mazon calls "16 jobs."

"Employers gravitate toward people who will do that," he explains. "(Islanders) don't know an employer may stab you in the back, whereas American-born blacks might see that willingness to work so hard as a 'yes, massa' attitude."

Common Ground
So can a black community exist in the workplace? Yes, says Polite, though it is "in the background, not up front."

"A lot of black folks get together in part for support, and perhaps as a reality check against what they think they see and feel (from non-blacks)," he adds. "We like being able to speak a common language and let our hair down. Our conversations have a slightly different slant. In the end, no matter where they're from, when black folks get together, we're all in the mix."

Culture of Fear

I was reading thestar.com and I came across this headline: Prepare for pandemic, expert warns!!! (exclamation points added).

I started reading along and I came to this quote from Dr. Michael Osterholm, director of the Centre for Infectious Disease Research and Policy at the University of Minnesota. Dr. Osterholm said:

"Frankly the crisis could for all we know have started last night in some village in Southeast Asia. We don't have any time to waste and even if we did have some time, the kinds of things we need to do will take years. Right now, the best we can do is try to survive it. We need a Manhattan Project yesterday."

I don't know how many of you watched Bowling For Columbine, but Michael Moore did a bit on how American news media is encouraging a culture of fear. Fear of this and fear of that -- fear of the Africanized bee that was supposed to attack and kill everyone. Fear of food, every day something we've been eating for years is now going to kill us: carbs, meat, cholesterol, sugar, caffeine, salt. Fear of Black people, I know the brothers can attest to this one.

Now, fear of the pandemic. Some horrific influenza virus is going to lay waste to the globe, it'll be like the movie Outbreak... or SARS.

Gasp.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not being sarcastic because I don't believe that this won't happen. I'm not saying that a pandemic may not be in the future of humankind, but I'm am saying that I'm tired of people trying to scare me about every damn thing. Don't use solid deodorant, it causes breast cancer! Don't eat McDonalds, it'll turn your liver into fat! Don't perform on American Idol, Paula will sex you up!

Really *rolling eyes*.

Yes, most of these fears stem from fact. SARS could have killed off a big set of people -- it pretty much killed tourism to Toronto for a year or so, but we live in a place where news isn't news unless it scares the pants off of you. Don't drive through Malvern, you'll get shot! Toronto is rampant with gangs! Ray, ray, ray.

Don't get me started with Dateline, 20/20 and Primetime -- those shows will have you agoraphobic and scared to use your microwave.

This is all about exaggeration. Have you been attacked by an Africanized bee? I've been hearing about these bees since I was a wee child of five or six. You would think they would have reached Canada by now.

Let's put this into perspective: the world is a scary place, but you can't be scared of everything. All this fear is making us anxious and nervous and worried of every damn thing. Scared to travel -- you'll get Hepatitis C. Scared to meet new people -- dem could be axe murderers! Scared to go out late at night -- you could get attacked!

Come on, now.

Be cautious, but don't be an idiot. The news is not as factual or truthful as it would seem.

Now, stop shivering, come out from under your bed, put on some clothes and enjoy life.

sigh...

...am I a disgusting wretch because I think this boy is hot? I know that I'm on the dark side -- the very dark side of 20 -- but Omarion looks like he could be a full grown man.

I swear, young men did not look like this when I was in my late teens and early 20s. Them boys were jacked -- we had All 4 One. And All 4 One were not hot boys.

Chupse.

These young boys are destined to get grown women in trouble. I must turn away from the Touch video. Just turn off the TV, 'cause it not worth it, Urban Sista.

It just ain't worth it.

Sigh.