spipster

i cant believe this thing is still on.

i always thought new york city kept you young... hip... cool. but i've only skimmed over my last post and quickly realized just how much you can age in a new york year. or five.

i don't give enough of a shit at present moment to document the ways this here life has evolved since i last neglected this space. plus, the efficiency of my memory is hella questionable. 

so, we shall start from today.

therapy is a luxury i simply cannot afford at the moment and i doubt it'd do me any better than writing has proven to do in the past. grammatical errors, inconsistent tense usages and all. so i'm giving the ol' blog a second go as an experiment in self-soothing, exploration and reflection. oh, and most importantly, indulgence. 

so. much. indulgence. why? because this is nyc and the most your friends will give you is about twenty minutes total to unload all your shit, a few empathetic nods, and a cliche positive catchphrase before it's their turn to spiral. here, i can go on forfuckingever because, chances are, no one will ever see it and they certainly won't read past the first few lines.

i've been feeling like a walking eye rolling emoji lately. i am over it all. not like i want to jump off the williamsburg bridge or anything crazy but i have considered throwing myself on the train tracks of the marcy ave j platform. that motherfucker runs slow enough to guarantee a failed suicide attempt for. sure. 

okokokok, that's a wee bit dramatic. life's actually pretty aiight, in general. i'm working, but i'm honestly feeling like i'm not getting any type of respect on my name in my industry considering. i also feel like a bitch is turning into one of those people who has a career and nothing more... no nothing else. a real Deliver Us From Eva-ass, Miranda Priestly-ass, Pat McGrath-ass spinster-in-training.  side note, i've been trying all day to get this one joke off and neither of my test audience so much as chuckled.

wanna hear it?
spipsters.

the punchline is Spipsters: a new term for millennial women who are part spinster and part hipster. get it? still crickets, i'm guessing. anyways, i've become super career obsessed and my career been treating me like it's not fucking with me like that so i'm looking for a hobby to have an affair with. any ideas?

i've been trying on men but bitch, just...no. i mean, i do think i may have stumbled upon a normal one this summer though. he's a whole lot of shit i've never been able to say about any other dude- and in a good way. but he has a set of red flags that, while slow to show, are probably about to send one of us off the williamsburg bridge for sure. yes, i can clearly see that i sound like a pessimist and yes, that is who i generally am as a person but in this case, just trust that i'm not being nuts. that, or, i actually am completely fucking nuts. blame it on bushwick.

yup, i'm slumming it up in bushwick after two years in battery park. i love my new place but the neighborhood is dirty as fuck. i live a stone's throw away from an off-again on-again boo that i've figured out waaaayy too many alternative routes home in effort to not run into. my neighbor cracks open the fire hydrant for their kids to play in damn near everyday. and it's practically october. i thought the shit was very spike lee's brooklyn at first. now it just makes me think about the earth's limited natural resources and gives me anxiety. i hate it. help.

have you ever read 'the bell jar'?

when i was reading it, more than a few women warned me the book was dangerous. i was like, 'maybe for you, sis, but im from detroit'. i have since adopted this theory that the book is like one of those movies where if your nosey ass watches a certain tape, or open a certain book/door/whatever-the-fuck, you're automatically doomed. no escape. that's the bell jar. that's where i am right now. except the doom is an eternal state of meh more than anything else.

i'm like a rubber band- till you pull too hard

its a brand new year but i can't stop thinking about old shit. Old people, to be exact. Not old as in age but old in reference to the time when they were actively a part of my life. Old boos, old friends, old enemies, old goals, all of that. I've been really thinking lately

what the fuck happened?

Specifically with friends. Im a person that may value friendship much more than the next person. It takes a lot for me to no longer want to fight for you to be in my life. I suppose you shouldn't have to fight for your friends to be your friends but,ya know, shit happens. Things aren't peaches and cream 100% of the time with your true blues. Sometimes things get fuzzy and one of you have to grow up before things get too out of hand. And hopefully the other person gets the fucking hint and get their shit together. 

Unfortunately that doesn't always happen and you end up having to decide how long you want to stand out on that olive branch alone. Or you have to have a pep talk with yourself to figure out at what point did you two outgrow each other. Where was the disconnect? Are you actually the asshole in the situation? I hate that shit. But it's happened. And it seems like the older I get, the more often its come to that.

Im a Capricorn and I think we're fiercely loyal by nature. I am also an introvert, a loner and a person who generally does not enjoy meeting new people. Especially at this point living in NYC working in fashion where the odds of meeting an actual genuine person are against you. That being said, once I find you and figure out that I like being around you, you're mine for life. And even when when you are tap dancing on my last motherfucking nerve or being a complete asshole, I'll still be down for you.

...but only as long as I'm sure you'd do the same for me.

If not, my friend-love immediately turns into resentment and hurt and disgust. Or just pity.

PS.
Elastic Heart was one of my favorite records from 2014. Constantly on repeat for the longest. It actually made me feel feelings- which i don't typically do (jk). There were so many lyrics that hit home and the entire 1000 Forms of Fear album solidified Sia as one of my favorite artist/musicians of the decade.  The video for Elastic Heart was a bit late for me but it was also shockingly on time, at the same damn time. Makes sense to me.

"Man, these kids wear crowns over here"

bust it.

let me just take a moment to give drizzy drake some love. i  heard an old record of his that came out before i left detroit and it  sent me to a warm place (it also sent me into a pre 2013 drake listening session). i may or may not have a drake quote on deck for every emotion, event, instagram caption, tweet, status, blog post ever in life. no one gets me like drake does.

ok, not really, but really. don't judge me.

ah, the trials and tribulations of being a twenty something. a kid in search of self. a person on a pursuit of happiness. and all the superficial and all consuming distractions/setbacks that you meet along the way. 

im closing in on year 27 of my life. 
27 was special. 27 was scary. 27 was everything.

i spent a great deal of this year being an angsty little twat stuck in her second pathetic teenagehood- complaining about first world problems one minute and trying to think of a way to change the society the next. seriously. i also often found myself straddling a thin line between feeling super accomplished and feeling like an utter failure. but ultimately i learned that thats pretty fucking normal for andrita, so yeah. such is life.

i got in my own way a lot this year. put my foot in my mouth a bit this year. i chose to do shit my way (aka the hard way)a lot at 27, too, always finding comfort and refuge in the fact that I'm 'an artist', so its fine.

bullshit.

at 28, i hope to take heed to everything my old heads, mentors, oracles, stars and crystal balls tell me. I'm gonna put my own stank on it, of course, but I WILL OBEY in this next chapter. Doing shit your own way is fun and fulfilling and all that but being a broke ass with no IRA or passport fucking SUCKS. Im abandoning Team Starving Artist.

ha. I'm only half serious about that one. 27 was an unstable mindfuck that required me to call on every life lesson I've ever learned but I honestly had a good time, a great time. And I'm closing out on a good note, optimistic and grateful for what I've experienced and whats in store next.

"...and the whole wide world is filled with cheer"

i finally got to hit the reset button on my life. 

i’ve been in georgia for a few days and despite my family being annoying i’ve been feeling motivated and positive about work and life in general. And that is a good thing. its amazing what a little bit of vitamin d can do for a lady. i have to admit i am ready to get back to the concrete jungle. per us, i have no idea how I’m going to make rent this month and have officially run out of time to figure it out. and i just spotted an in-season (and former  wish list item) Marc Jacobs tote on clearance for $75. mfml.


my sister has a new mattress that is the exact same as what id imagine ex with iris elba to be like. theres not a single piece of evidence in my brooklyn dungeon that a grown up inhabits the space. i don’t give a shit the end of next year i want that thang in my possession.


speaking of adult like activities, my fam let me make the macronie and cheese for xmas dinner. like, from scratch, mac n cheese. and if theres one thing you probably already know about me its that i can’t cook for shit. my stove and fridge are just extra storage space. so yeah, the mac n cheese thing- big shit.



i semi-followed a mix of a patti labelle recipe and my sisters instructions. it came out marrrrrrrvelous, dahling. i can’t wait to get back to brooklyn and spread my new talent.

Very Heavy Metal and Reflective

i'm surprised i still remember the password for this thing.

fuck, its been so long. not sure what I'm doing revisiting this platform again but there were things in my head that needed to be released in its own separate space and capacity. so here i am, in the same outlet i created while i was miserable in detroit. i am now miserable in new york, but chill, its fleeting. i'm a few days away from a vacay and i'll most definitely be back to normal by the time i return to my beloved brooklyn. 

i've been meaning to delete this cringeworthy archive of ancient experiences and dreams and goals and inspirations and aspirations but i never got around to it. i like how that worked out. 

in the time between my last post here and me typing these words right now i've spent a great deal of energy trying to make sure that my internet existence didn't affect my career prospects. i wanted to make sure that when my name was googled, no fuckshit came up. that didn't work completely- there are still a few questionable/tacky/low-res bad creative decisions i made in the past that are alive and easily accessible via google. i did create a blog specifically for my work and work related shit that I'm very proud of. i thought of using that platform for my Sex and the City/IMO-type posts but my instincts said 'nah, thats a horrendous idea' and i NEVER go against my instincts. 

here you'll find me in purest form, politically incorrect in every sense of the word, foul mouthed, sarcastic, weird, obsessed and contradicting. heavy metal and reflective.

Death is at the tip of her tongue

I'm in a real Lupe kinda mood these days.

I don't mean to sound like a Debbie Downer, and perhaps this is just some unofficial seasonal depression trying to kick in, but I really feel like the world as we know it is coming to a close.  

With all of the horrible injustices and inhumane things going on around the world in an era where we undoubtedly have the capacity to eliminate them all I find it difficult NOT to think like this.

I passed a homeless couple sitting outside on a bench in the cold today.  I dont know what pissed me off more- the fact that they had found no other solution but to just huddle and freeze, the fact that I had absolutely nothing to give them or the fact that, even if I did have something, I wouldve been afraid to offer it for fear that they'd stab me or something. 

Then, when I got home I tried to finally get a better understanding of, and enroll in, the new healthcare stuff.  I found out that my being a single young non-child bearing mother would cost me about $180 a month for coverage- which I obviously can not afford at this point.  So that means continued knocks on wood, overpriced out-of-pocket fees for doctors visits and jank ass medical attention from the low-cost facilities for my impending sinus infection.  

Simultaneously, I was perusing Craigslist in contemplation of picking up a side gig only to find that employers have lost their absolute motherfucking minds in 2013.  Retail stores were requiring cover letters, bachelors degrees and recent photos of applicants. 

Retail.

Are you fucking kidding me? To fold clothes for minimum wage?

And most of them have the audacity to require open availability/flexibility.  How can you ask someone to be free at your beck and call when your pay rate barely even covers the cost of the transportation to get them to you?

You want me to be a college educated professional to WORK in your store? Lets not even talk about what qualifications I need to SHOP in it...

There are LEVELS to the layers of disrespect that these major companies/corporations are dishing out to the everyday Joe Schmo.

Everything that I see in the world nowadays just makes me want to unplug. Not on some suicidal shit but just, like, fuck off from media of all sorts.  I know Im sounding really angst-y teen-y right now but everything looks like a bowl of bullshit as far as Im concerned.  

Im starting to feel like life in this era is just one big ass hologram. Most of us are constantly chasing these intangible ideas of happiness and freedom in a society whose main goal seems to be to convince you that that doesn't exist.  Or worse, they DO exist, you just have to play by these rules and follow these steps to just get closer to it.

I dont get it.  

And the really shitty part about it is that we have become so numb, complacent, accepting, selfish, lazy, or whatever you want to call it, that theres nothing left of this world but to self destruct and fast.

Hopefully whatever comes after us will retain the technological advances of ours but have the heart of the people before us.

Transitionin' from Standing Out to Fitting In

You know how when you have a low moment in life and all you want to do is dial up your closest people and just...talk?

And no one answers?

Thats the fuckin worst, bruv.

And then there you are, all hypersensitive and shit, left to sort out your latest mid life crisis in absolute solitude.  

Fuckityfuck.

And you know that even if they DID answer the gotdamn phone, there would probably be little to no understanding or solution to whatever latest debacle you're going through today.

You dont care. You just want to be assured that someone is there. Thats it.  Even if they cant do a motherfucking thing, you just want them to hold the phone and listen. Or better yet, at least pretend that you're not a kook and you're complete rightgeous in feeling however it is that you feel or believing whatever it is that you're believing.  

Like when you barely have two nickels to your name but you're working like a MVP. And you know that money is coming- lots of it. You have the invoices to prove it. But until that unbeknownst-to-man day comes, you're living on magic beans. And, truthfully speaking, you almost dont even mind it because you're in love with the overall nature of your life. But no one else gets it. And no one else seems to want to hear that shit. And that shit is usually the straw that breaks the camels back when it comes to your ability to persevere. Fuckin holdin on to the dream gets really real when no one is seeing or believing the shit but your sole unstable ass.

If it weren't for that one time you were prepared to put your very last ten bucks for dinner on the counter and the cashier told you your total was only fifty-nine cent due to some invisible coupons that you didnt even know you earned on that bum ass rewards card on your keychain....

If it weren't for that one time your dont-see-often friend (rather bewitchingly)hit you up for dinner/movie ON THEM when you you thought you were gonna be forced to spend another afternoon at home contemplating getting a job at McDonalds or entering the sex trade....

If it weren't for the fact that doors have consistently and continuously been flying open and ways have been made repeatedly throughout your journey....

you might've given up by now. 

But thank God you know better than that.

Because if you can't handle not having someone to pat you on the back and tell you every things going to be ok then how in the hell are you gonna handle all the proverbial slaps in the face that you will certainly continue to get while trying to carve out a career and life in this city? How will you deal when you show up to a gig and you're the only splash of melanin on the entire set? Or when you're surrounded by people who absolutely refuse to be real and instead propel lifestyles of very real materialistic wealth but faux happiness (or the dyslexic ones who are genuinely happy to boast fake/short term material wealth)? How will you handle the people who are only in your life to keep tabs on you and not actually support a single thing you do? The ones who are only interested in keeping their foot in your neck? 

I'm still only at the beginning of my journey but I can very well see the many pitfalls that stand between me and my dreams and Im just hoping I dont fall into one of them.

Young, Fresh and New

I think we all get a bit uncertain about where we are, what we're doing and where we're going in life from time to time.

That is space I often find myself in and Im praying to the highest that this is something exclusive to my twenties and not a lifelong battle.

BUT

Everysinglefuckingtime I get to that point I usually immediately get a signal from the universe telling me whats up.

I did a gig for a major sneaker brand commercial campaign that I knew would be intense, as those kinds of gigs tend to be, but I didn't know what type of team I'd be spending the few days with- which makes the utmost difference.  

Much to my surprise, one of my favorite young stylists (Marcelo Gaia) was on board for the project and so was one of my favorite cool kids (Joey Labeija). And I was working with two awesome girls (Kira and Christy) on the H/MU team that I just met at a runway show I worked.

Trust, you do not understand how amazing it is to show up for a job that youre not yet sure about to find people that you already know and like in real life are going to be working beside you. You dont know how it feels to show up to a job full of fancy folks as an assistant and hear someone shout your name in excitement (or confused familiarity). Its like an affirmation that you, the technicolor haired black girl from Detroit, do in fact belong right where you are.

And to meet new people(people who are far more advanced in their careers than you/ people who are far more cooler and in demand than you) and they're receptive and warm to you without you doing a motherfucking thing but being your genuine natural born self- is quite amazing as well.

To simply be in the company of a few very talented young professionals who you KNOW are gonna make it to the top and have a mutual admiration/appreciation and belief in one another is all the verification I need to know that, even if I cant yet work out the details, Im certainly moving in the right direction.

Brown Girl, Turn Your Shit Down

Such an interesting social climate we're living in.

Such an interesting social landscape I'm living in.

I just went to see MIA live at Terminal 5 and, consequently, I've been functioning on a different wavelength ever since. 

At one point in my life, I was quite serious about the idea of being a social activist...as a career.  

And now I'm a hair stylist.  

Funny, no?

Well, as much as there are a shitload of injustices going on in this nation and beyond, I haven't quite figured out my own personal avenue in making an impact on a single fucking thing.  

The point is, at the time that I wanted to be the next Angela Davis, I thought I had to give up on every creative aspiration I had.  And now, now that I've been progressing in an industry that is completely operated by appearances, relationships and oft-superficial bullshit, I've grown overtly cautious of causing too much of a stir- which means I've kind of given up reincarnating poor Ang. 

But getting reacquainted with MIA has reminded me that the concept of artist and activist don't have to exist on seperate planes. Its not an easy path to tread but its not impossible either. And, some chicks, like MIA, manage to make it look dope as well.

Go figure.

http://www.youtube.com/v/K1Bdw4HJ7Z0?version=3&autohide=1&autohide=1&showinfo=1&feature=share&autoplay=1&attribution_tag=HOQBHoBLmHs5BKiZjq_VpA

Marquee

Back in August (2013), I found out there was a traveling documentary centered around the legendary House of Field premiering at Marquee. 

And it was open to the public.

Naturally, I brushed off my hologram platform sneakers and carried my ass to Chelsea that night. Full 'fro, flannel, stacked bangles and absolutely no fucks.

I can remember practically stomping the pavement as if it were a catwalk and my name were Naomi. I was totally consumed with the spirit of Carrie Bradshaw.  Even when my evil mind was whispering to me 'What if there's a list that Im not on?' and 'Oh, fuck look at all these dope ass people here', not ONCE did I feel out of place or not cool enough to be there- which is pretty maj for me.

As I walked up to the line, there were a few people already there but one woman in particular stood out. 

Her. Hair. Was. Everything.

It was past her shoulders and the orangest orange that ever did orange. And the color was PERFECTLY evened out. No streaks, no bands, no missed spots. Nothing less than perfection.

She told me I could go on ahead of her, as she had every intention of finishing her cigg first. I happily obliged. Eventually, she and her clique and about a hundred other people who looked like the original and authentic version of Sex and the City characters and tumblr inspirations filed in line behind moi.  

I listened to the lady tell stories about Patricia Field and working in the store for a good 45 minutes and I enjoyed every second of it. 

Seeing as I was the only weirdo who had come solo, when the doors to the venue opened, I was able to tunnel vision my way to the best seating area in the house. After everyone got they're kiki on they eventually all stuffed into my seating zipcode. 

The film came on and I immediately noticed this shindig was something like a family affair.  After the filmmaker said his peace and apologized for Pat not being present (which I had found out from Big Orange earlier) the movie opened with applause. Not necessarily out of excitement, but out of familiarity for sure. Apparently many of the people in the flick, were in the crowd, as well as friends and family of the 'house'. 

And sure enough, she was too.  Best Hair 2013 was actually HoF legend Codie Ravioli. And she had taken a spot directly across from me, which meant

1)I was surrounded by the coolest people of the House
2)I got to hear side stories/comments throughout

Score.

This night turned out to be pretty meaningful to me.  The film was obviously amazingly inspiring for any creative ambitious fighting young outsider. But it was also probably the first time, in the whole three years that I've lived here, in the whole time that I've been working in the fashion industry that I actually felt comfortable with my not-in-the-cool-clubness.  Like, I enjoyed the night, the scenery, the crowd, the vibes, everything WITHOUT feeling awkward at all. I did not feel like I wore the wrong shit. I didnt feel like anyone was looking at me disapprovingly. I didnt experience any of my normal oddball shit. I was just me. Amongst a bunch of cool ass folks. Thats it. 

Freedom from baggage and hang ups. Confidence in every move. Creative passion pulsating through my bod. It was the very feeling that I had always imagined Id have once I moved to New York. 

Flash forward to today. I dont know exactly how/why but I found out that Codie passed away- which prompted me to relive this night. May she sleep amongst the angels.

Violet

Patty Schemel of Hole's documentary of being a bad bitch and living (happily) to tell about it

There's always going to be someone else.

Someone who's better, more talented, more interesting, more disciplined, more confident, more connected, more inspiring, more popular........you get the point.

Knowing that and STILL being totally secure in your OWN shit isn't always the easiest thing.  Knowing that sometimes the bad guy wins and the evil person prospers is unsettling and can throw you off your game a bit.

I've been in this headspace on and off. Especially in regards to my career and overall quality of life.

Whereas before, years ago, this would get me down, I now give it a more positive spin. I try to keep my mind focused on my life and what I want to accomplish with it.  Simple shit.....  except I wasn't able to do this for a very long time.

I'd see someone who I knew was full of shit get a break and I'd feel like a loser for not having one of my own.  Or I'd see someone doing the very thing that I want to do and feel like since they've already gotten to it, theres absolutely no way I can do it too.

And then there's always that person who's just simply the shit. And you just have to eat it, because even YOU'RE a fan. Fucking asshole.

Now, it doesn't get to me like it used to.  Now, I've matured a bit and I've learned a little more about my own strengths and weaknesses as well as my goals and dreams.  And those things are so exclusive to me that it makes it pretty fuckin impossible for me to be discouraged or intimidated by the next bitch.

The thing is, everyone has a journey.  And everyone's journey has the potential to be epic in its own way. Value and trust it and everything else will just fall in line.

Despair

   At some point over the weekend, I practically lost my shit.  On the N train. 

There were my emotions, running all high from peoples responses to the Trayvon Martin verdict, coupled with personal roadblocks that were staring me in the face.  

And there on public transportation, while just beginning to cross over the bridge to Brooklyn, I felt like I was about to emotionally combust into a state of manic depression right there for the world to see.  

All I could think about was how easily and how close I’d gotten to things going incredibly bad for me with my personal bullshit. And then I thought about how horrible and unredeemable the human race had become in relation to the Zimmerman trial. And then I thought about how pointless and purposeless this whole life thing really is in general. And then I tried to navigate my mind out of that darkness and this song came on.  And the lyrics hit me for the first time really and at the most perfect moment.  

In the three short years that I’ve been living in this city I have had so many many experiences. I have been tested in so many different ways and on so many different occasions. I used to joke when I first moved here that New York was determined to make a woman out of me- a strong woman out of me. And it wouldnt let up until I embodied the type of woman Ive always wanted to be.

This city has been kicking my fucking ass since I stepped foot here. Yet everytime I’ve fallen on my ass, it’s offered its hand to help me back up...as long as I was up for another beating. Another beating always seems to be right around the corner. And so does another “I love this city”.

So I guess after I’d just been handed my ass again by life, I needed a friendly reminder.
Thank you New York.

You’re there
From begining to middle to end.