Friday, July 29, 2011

Am i everything u always wanted?




Solange has been one of my faves since we were 16.  I somehow felt we were connected and I have followed her career and style evolution ever since. Bright red Rasta braids and Lil Rapper duets to the Hadley St. Dreams and fashion 'It'' girl status, Solo has been the chick that mirrored the type of attitude and gall I've attempted to exude in my own life. 

She's always doing some dope shit. I just heard this one and wanted to share. It's a midtempo, sweet, repetitive track by this guy who calls himself Rewards (aka Aaron Phenning of Chairlift).  The song's "Equal Dreams" and its honey.  Definitely a track I want to add to the iPod playlist right now.

Equal Dreams (Feat. Solange Knowles) by DFA Records

Sunday, July 24, 2011

What kind of fuckery is this?

Can't believe you played me out like this....







I know most normal people couldn't give a singular fuck less about  the death of a notorious drug using celebrity but hey, I've never been normal. This shit actually hurt my feelings.  Yes, I am hormonal and may need to consider switching birth control but I almost want to cry. I LOVES Amy Winehouse. I do. NOT. give a damn.com

Her music came into my life during a time of happiness.  I had just got my first apartment in downtown Atlanta and was getting my first taste of adulthood and independence. I used to put her CD's in (this was the time before laptops and iPhones appeared in my life) and be in my own world sketching, reading, writing and reflecting. 

Back to Black and Frank are two of my favorite albums ever. They hold me down. I always thought she'd get back in the game and come through.... for me.  I needed her. Here I am in NYC alone with all of these new experiences and obstacles and great times and shitty times and I really wanted some new Winehouse to be apart of this part of the soundtrack to my life.

Funny how people will put you on a pedestal and celebrate you but when you fall from grace they throw you away.  That's what this tragedy makes me think of.  Such a blood sucking society we live in. Perfection is a trait that has yet to be found in any human being to date. And you can't just throw a couple dollars and a rehab clinic at a problem and expect it to go away. It makes me sick that so many people assume that she was rich and because she had all of these resources she should have been able to kick her habit. I don't claim to know much about drug addiction but I'm pretty sure that sometime its deeper than the pure enjoyment of using. From her music you can tell there was more to her than that.

Fuck it, this aint for the haters.  Its for the lovers.

I fucks with Amy Winehouse, hard body.  I associate her and her music with nothing but positiviity. That's my bitch and I will love and cherish the talents she shared with me forever and always.

A few of my favorites:

Back to Black



Me and Mr.Jones



You Know That I'm No Good



Love is a Losing Game



You Sent Me Flying



Take the Box



In My Bed



Just Friends


Fuck Me Pumps



Wake Up Alone



Help Yourself





RIP Amy

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

"We take it from the bottom to the top baby..."



"Remember those days when I went to bed hungry/All I ever ate was white rice and honey/Big dreams in my head empty my tummy/Might crack a smile but ain't nothin funny"

These past three weeks have been a journey. This isn't a sad, woe-is-me story, firstly. Everytime I think I've been taken to the edge or as if I can't possibly handle a certain situation I am proven horribly wrong. Thank God. I am learning the amazing things I'm capable of. Im learning and extending the limits of my personal strength.

And I know I'm not the only one. Sometimes shit just gets soooo fucking hard and we think that if one more thing goes wrong we are going to just roll over and die.

And then it happens, of course, and we put on our big girl panties and keep it pimpin.

That's life.

Never thought I would be able to make rent for an entire year in nyc working bullshit retail jobs. Never thought I'd be going to bed both hungry as hell and happy as shit so often. Never thought I'd have the confidence to make my career aspirations an actual plan of action. On a smaller, simpler scale, I never thought I'd be fearless enough to just be me unapologetically... hardcore... true shit (I mean, duh, everyone claims to be themselves but we all know the deal).

Lo and behold, all of these things have manifested. I could've bitched up and went back to Detroit the first time shit got real. But I didn't. And I guess thats a testament to my childhood maybe? I grew up in an environment that demanded strength. I'm not trying to make it sound like I grew up in the projects with dopefiend parents or something but the city (ANY urban city) pushes you to be strong. Only the strong survive. I think its in the water or something.
 
Whatever it is, I'm just happy I got it.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Fuck it I'm on one...


 

"...but you’re the only one, cause I don’t trust these bitches

I don’t, I don’t trust these bitches
They might catch me slippin’
So you’re the only one, cause I don’t trust these bitches

...I can tell, I can tell, I can tell certain people don’t like me no more
New shit don’t excite me no more
Guess they don’t really make ‘em like me no more
You can look me in my eyes and see I aint myself
Cause if yall what I created than I hate myself"


 
That's exactly how I'm feeling right now.

New York,... I can't.

These people are unfuckingbelieveable.

Actually, they are totally believeable, stereotypical, simple minded and expected. I came here with the mentality that people would try to metaphorically fuck and suck me dry of anything I had that they could benefit from and whaddyaknow....

I guess being 'real' is just cool in conversation but in practice, don't nobody really do that shit no more. Like, it's too much to ask of a person to be upfront and honest. Fuck you scared of? People been calling me a lil beasty lately but really I wouldn't hurt a fly so I know you're not afraid of lil 'ol me. Like, did you just read some 48 Laws of Power chapters and all of a sudden wanna practice being a master of manipulation or something?  Well, I did to. Difference is, I read it (not the whole shit lol) to better prepare myself for fuckwads I may encounter in my life that got the impression that I'm a complete retard because I'm from Detroit and apparently Detroit isn't one of the largest urban metropolis in the country or something. Like folks in Detroit are still picking cotton and haven't got hip to shit that's going on in the Rotten Apple. I'm buggin, I know. Blame it on the hormones. Or whatever makes its sound like I'm not about go on a rampage.
 
Which I inevitably am.
 
You ever watched someone try to play you right in front of your face? I'm talking on some this muhfucka can't be for real type shit? Like, wow, I wonder what you would do if I really just put you on blast right now? Wonder what your face would look like lol. But no, thats the easy route. I actually take quite the pleasure in knowing when I'm being underestimated and preyed upon. I know that sounds sinister and I don't mean that in a negative way. Being aware of someone's ill intention is empowering.
 
New York is doing something to me. I can't decide whether I like it or not but I'm almost certain that its for the better good.  I pray so much for God to turn me into the woman I believe He wants me to be and this is probably apart of the process so I need to stop complaining I guess.  But this is my blog and I'll cry if I want to.  I just love getting this stuff off my chest. Once I get it out, I'm done with it.
 
Free therapy.
 
Drake is like my best friend right now. He gets it.  So in the age old debate I always have going with myself about whether I should continue to be my natural non-trusting self or attempt to let people in and experience greatness in being human I think I've decided to just do what comes naturally. I have enough friends. I'm blessed beyond belief to have such genuine people in my life (shout out to everywhere BUT NY for producing authenic folks).  They keep me sane when they actually answer the phone ;)
 
 


This post, for once, is NOT about a boy :)
 
 
 
(NY, u know u still my boo)

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Boys.Boys.Boys





I have come to realize that as a young woman, boys will always be up for discussion. Boring, yes. Cliché, totally. *Kanye shrug* What can you do? I have only recently entered the arena of boycraziness but I have had an earful of stories being poured into my head since puberty. Apparently, in adulthood it doesn’t change much either. I feel like I’m watching a soap opera with behind-the-scenes access or something. All kinds of drama unfolding right before my very eyes.

I’d really like to remember these stories for 1) times when I find myself in the same predicament and most importantly 2) when I get old as shit and my kids/grandkids think I’ve been living under a rock my whole life and ‘don’t understand’ what they’re talking about. Hence, I immortalize my stories here. And hopefully the internet won’t become obsolete like books are on their way of becoming.

SooOOooo, where should I begin?

Let’s start with Julia* and Anthony*.





Julia is one of those girls that doesn’t have a problem getting guys. She’s cute, charismatic and confident. Or at least that’s what she leads people to believe. Anthony is cool. Not I’m -too-sexy-for-my-shirt type cool, but just cool. Unexpectedly, they found themselves enamored with one another. Kinda. See, Anthony’s telling an entirely different story to those around him. According to him, he’s just trying to fuck. No interest in this girl at all other than to do her. Maybe someone told him about her rumored whorish behavior. Maybe he’s fronting for the cameras so that his boys won’t think he’s trying to turn a hoe into a housewife (assuming the rumors are true). Idk. Point is, it’s fucked up.

Here’s my unsolicited take on it:

If this girl is perceived to be easy, why go through to the extreme of convincing her that you actually may want to have something more than a fwb situation? Why not just hit it and quit it? Is that boring? Or are you playing nice in hopes of being able to continuously hit it until you get tired of it? And if it’s a situation where you really DO like her, why talk shit and contribute to the idea that she’s a smut? What are you, 15? Are you scared of what the boys are going to think of you wife’ing the chick who smashed the homies? For the girl, why front like you don’t love having sex? If you get around, you get around. It’s 2011. Own that shit and get over it. Or stop doing it. Pick a side, stay there and stop lying. If the rumors are completely false, you need to hire a PR person and clean up your image asap.

Moving On.

Kim* and Bruce*.

Kim is that girl that no one really gets. I guess I should say rarely gets. Bruce gets her. And Bruce wants to get her (hint,hint). Bruce is as close to a goody goody as we can get. He’s actually really good for Kim. Kim, of course, doesn’t want Bruce. Yet. Classic women-say-they-want-a-good-man-but-when-they-meet-one-they-don’t-want-him shit.

My take:

I get it. You don’t take just anything that falls into your lap. But sometimes, you kinda have to get over yourself and just give someone a fucking chance. Nothings ever going to be exactly as you imagined it to be. That’s reality. Kim is making us (re: me) look bad with this stereotypical shit. I’m making this my personal mission to guide her towards the light. Stay tuned for the wedding e-vite.

Next.

Diana* and Man*.

I don’t know Diana that well. I know more of her. I know she’s not yet legal, a party girl and a kooky heartbreaker. Man is classic New York: sex, drugs and music. ‘Classic’ may not have been the best way to describe him. Anyways, Diana has boys practically falling out of her panties. They’re all over her. I’m pretty sure she’s just enjoying her life and I can imagine it must be quite fun to leave boys foaming at the mouth. Man is exactly the same. But you can sense that he wants more of her. And she ain’t having that shit. Not much of a story here, now that I’ve written about a hundred words or so I think it’s obvious that he’s finally met his female counterpart which is why he’s acting as if his head fell off.

My take:

I think this is what they mean when they say, “Every dog has his day”?…Maybe not. Maybe Man just needs to keep it moving.

Well, thats all for now but I still have mad stories left.

Certainly won’t be telling them all in this one post. Perhaps this is a lil Carrie Bradshaw kicking in. Maybe I’ll make a series of weekly posts to clear out my mental memory bank of the stories I hear on a daily.

Yeah, right.

Maybe I just need to get some business of my own to write about…

Well….

*little voice in the back of my head is telling me this is a bad idea*

Fuck it.

I’ma boss.

So.

That kid. The one I have had the ill tunnel-vision crush on for centuries? Well, he’s still around. And by around, I mean he’s still alive. I still don’t interact with the bitch. In fact, I think I want to fight him for being such a fucking idiot. I would sooner die than have him know, even in the least bit, that I’m crushing hardcore. Ugh, I think I’ve got his number. Not number as in Lady Gaga “Hello, hello baby, you called, I can’t hear a thing”, but old-school speak for “Oh, I see how you get down, motherfucker”. Speaking of which, I would love to reenact that scene from that video where Beyonce pois- nevermind. He’s such a bird!!!!! OMG OMG OMG!!!! This is so gay (shout out to the NYC gays who just got legalized. American Apparel needs to give them a new tee slogan). I feel like one of these days I’m going to randomly slap the shit out of him (despite the fact that he definitely looks like the type to slap the shit right back out of me). Maybe its just pure unadulterated sexual tension. Maybe he’s just a fucking asshole. Maybe I just need to get some Prozac.






Beyonce’s song keeps playing in my head. And in my iPod. Anthem music.







Real shit from a real bitch.

With your feet in the air, your head on the ground...

Once again I’ve gone AWOL from my blog. My bad. I’ve been doing some living. And thinking. And trying.


But now I’m back, at least for the moment.

Instead of writing an essay of specific details concerning my whereabouts, I’ll CliffNotes this shit in bullets like a real boss should.

• Got an internship with a men’s fashion company as a blogger. I’ll know how good or bad I did on the 30 day gig I did in the days to come.


• Restarted a Sex and the City marathon to rekindle my relationship with my moody boyfriend New York.

• Got another regular writing gig for fashion blog, UrbFash.com. Got to interview a few awesome mofo’s and write some cool shit.

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model Messiah Ross and Stylist/Designer Sigourney Salley





• Started Tumblr’in obsessively (andritarenee.tumblr.com)

• Attempted to ‘Tweet’ from my 3yr old Twitter account (@pistolsnpetals)

• Been helping another aspiring designer get her project off the ground

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• Became possessed by the spirit of Sasha Fierce at this obscure club in Chinatown called Happy Ending. As luck would have it, I ran into a few folk from my regular gig as a retail employee who got the pleasure of being entertained by me in my drunken glory.

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• Did a photoshoot for cutie pie designer Melis xKeo

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• Been bar hopping through the LES like I’m cool or something.

• Cleaned my apartment and cooked for a few unexpecting souls

• Decided to start a band with another person who doesn’t sing, dance or play an instrument either. Enter the Virgin Suicides.

• Got chased up a street in Little Italy by a cat rat.

• Discovered the music of Placebo





• Been wearing my hair natural. Kinda. For like two days.

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That is all folks.