Friendship is a funny thing. It doesn’t care that the one person who knows more about me than I care to share is somewhat of a Ho. Or that although she is successful and making strides in her career, her personal life is in shambles and that she is going through some thangs. No, in fact the only things that matter are whether or not she is good to me. Whether she’ll hop over a balcony to cut someone who dare defame my name, pick me up from places we both know I had no business being, rush me to the hospital even after I swear that a concussion is no big deal. The only concern of mine is that the people who I choose to call my friends don’t take more than I am willing to give and that they have proven themselves to genuinely want the best for me.

I love my friends. More specifically, I love her… for being my friend.

I don’t feel much like putting all my discombobulated thoughts together and typing… so I don’t.  This is not to say that I wont soon, because I will.

Until then follow on Twitter @complexnthecity even though I dont really tweet like I used to either

Speaking of supportive BFs my lil sis told me last week that her boyfriend had the balls to tell her that he wasn’t really attracted to her anymore because she doesn’t make the effort to work out. <– yes you read right! Firstly, let me say that my lil sis is in amazing shape but even if she didn’t.. umm who the fuck is this nigga! Being that I’ve been through sooo much w/CGR and granted could be kind of ‘tainted’ I’ve made it my mission to not give biased advice to her about her guy, so when she asked my thoughts my only comment was that I wasn’t shocked by his statement and that it seemed like something that could come out of his mouth. But of course I wasn’t too pleased. Oddly enough her only response was puh-lease don’t tell CGR, I don’t want him to know (she knows that CGR would get in that ass).
…alright tired of typing!
Oh wait coming back only to say…. Did I tell yall that CGR’s controlling overprotective ‘son come lay w and watch a movie with mommy’ mom has moved her ass into his apartment complex?? YUP I pretty much fainted with this news too.

For a quick second I even though about actually moving back in with my parents, but the good Lord instantaneously slapped me with a Bitch are You Crazy stick and I immediately came to my senses. Me and my mother living under the same roof JESUS TAKE THE WHEEL!

I now live about 20 minutes away from my parents and my brother but in me moving much closer, my sister was not having the idea of her not breaking free of their house and begged to move w/ me! Mind you she’s a young 20 and while I’m only 24 I’m and old ass 24 so this will definitely be interesting! I definitely forsee me cussing her out a good 3 times! Get ready for those posts!!

Thankfully the BF and I are in a GOOD place these days and though he isn’t the biggest fan of the move he understands and since we both work downtown our and see each other almost daily, the dynamics wont change too much.

Not saying that I’m never moving back to LA but for where I am right now, this is the right decision for ME.

One of my “acquaintances”,who is trying way too hard to get herself into the friend category, is completely crossing the line when it comes to social networking. She comments and tags me on any and everything on FB and for some reason feels the need to @ me on Twitter on things that have no relation to me. She’ll say things like “I know you know what I’m talking about @_____” and I find myself thinking… but really I don’t!

I need to take the Belize flag down in my car. I’m assuming the only reason why the parking attendants feel like they are allowed to call me muy bonita and sexy baby is because they somehow feel that we are from the same land. NEGATIVE.

I’m convinced that the only meals black people eat are breakfast and dinner. Every time I go into our cafeteria during the lunch hour there is not a black face in the crowd. But during breakfast, Chile Please you would think that we are the only ones employed in the building. As far as dinner, I’m never in the office that late, however according to black twitter WE EATS.

Speaking of breakfast… this oatmeal that I got from the cafeteria this morning. #WIN

It’s almost a sin to be young, black, spunky and attractive in an office full of old grumpy caucasions.

I’m allowing my little sister to move in with me.. the move hasn’t even happened yet and already I know I’m going to have to cuss her out a few times.

I’ve been telling everyone I know that the reason I’m so exhausted is because of packing and moving, but the truth is I’m pregnant.

SIKE. Just lazy.

There’s nothing wrong with being entertaining and having something to say, and while that is part of who I am, that is only a minor portion of me. It became the part of me that became more likeable. The part of me that people got along with and thought was quick-witted and funny. It was the part of me that liked the attention. The part of me that wore the laugh now mask before going home only to cry later. It was the part of me that was pseudo and purposeless.

In realizing why I stopped writing, I’ve also become conscious of why I need to start again. This is my outlet and the place that I can share my feelings without censoring myself or worrying about anyone else’s feelings. Before starting this blog I adopted an “ It’s all about me” attitude and though at the time my newfound stance in life felt liberating, I can now look back and understand that it erupted from all the wrong reasons. Somewhere between then and my struggle to continue writing, I lost that part of me. I am proud to say that after a long battle to regain my inner strength I have learned how to love me more. More than I love my family. More than I love my friends. More than I love him. More than I am willing to compromise.