Panty LinesPanty Lines
Headed in a New Direction
Self-Improvement: Priceless
The cost of 5 dime bags of weed (urban speak for five bags of marijuana at $10 each): $50
The cost of a GED exam: $50
Which did my young brother/sister choose?
The cost of 20-inch Daytons on a 1980 Cutlass: $4,304
The cost of two years at a community college: $4,240
Which did my young brother choose?
The cost of a spritzed-up hairdo, new outfit, new shoes, acrylic manicure, and Friday night club admission: $200
The cost of 2-2.5 weeks of groceries for a family of three or the minimum balance to open a savings account: $200
Which did my young sister choose?
The cost of a cheap "grill" plus a cheap chain and medallion: $400
6-6.5 months worth of diapers for your newborn: $400
Which did my young brother choose?
Why?
Sisters and brothers, we REALLY have to do better. Seriously.
Dating Saria, Part I: The Curse
I consider myself VERY low maintenance and easy to please. However, I’m known in my circle of girlfriends as the ridiculously picky one because of my extensive list of things I don’t like, can’t stand, or simply WILL NOT tolerate when it comes to men and my relationships with them. For instance, I am slightly turned off by men who use bad grammar, regularly wear dirty shoes with clean clothes, rock thong sandals aka flip-flops like they’re the hottest item in menswear, sport tattoos on their necks, are non-chivalrous or don’t know to take their hats/shades off in buildings and during prayer. And please, please, please DO NOT purposely pass gas, break wind or fart (whichever term you prefer) around me. Ugh. Oh, and you most certainly are not allowed to touch my feet. Break any of these so-called “Saria Sins” and we may (or may not) be able to move passed them.
But topping the list of things I will not tolerate is a man who curses at me. It’s one thing to use swears in your everyday conversations. That’s not a problem. How you choose to express yourself is your business. However, there is a HUGE difference between freedom of expression and what I like to call “freedom of disrespect.” Don’t tell what my a** is gonna do. Don’t call me a f***ing anything. Don’t refer to anything about me, on me or any of my belongings as sh*t. As a matter of fact, don’t make my name (or anything about me) the subject of a sentence in which a curse word is the verb or predicate. Just don’t. Unless of course you want to be on a (quite possibly permanent) timeout from my life.
There are instances in the past where I have tolerated the disrespect, excusing slip-ups for the sake of “love.” But as time has gone on, my tolerance has gotten signficantly lower, and I’ve wised up. Realized I don’t have to essentially be verbally abused just to have some simple-minded earthly creature tell me he “loves” me. It’s never that serious.
So, fellas, if ever you’re sitting there wondering why you’re suddenly talking to my back, a dial tone or my voicemail, just know it’s more than likely because (say it with me) YOU CUSSED!
And girlfriends, if my low tolerance for “dude ridiculousness” means I’ll be single for life, so be it. There are worse things.
Peace and blessings,
Saria Monette
Death to Complaining
Until one day, in the middle of one of my misery songs, he blurted, “Oh my God, you’re getting on my nerves!”
It stopped me square in my tracks. “Huh? What ...<< MORE >>
Victim of pleasure
Take a simple piece of cake for instance: It looks good and you're certain it'll taste even better. And every time you pass that cake, every time you see someone else enjoying a slice, the temptation grows and your desire grows stronger. Why not just eat the cake, you ask? No harm in a little indulgence, right? The problem is you're a diabetic and that simple slice of cake can send you into coma.
Sometimes the cake is some much bigger temptation, and indulging in that one moment, that one simple pleasure can ruin your life or the lives of others around you. Sometimes that moment turns into two or more and suddenly you're in so deep, it doesn't matter who you hurt in the process — including yourself. All that matters is the taste, the thrill, the feel of your simple pleasure.
God, help me.
For my leading lady
I’m taking a timeout to give a birthday shout-out to a woman who means the world to me. A woman who is the strongest, most selfless and compassionate person I know — my mom. I’ve watched her sacrifice her whole life for her children and grandchildren. Even after she lost her eyesight in 1995, she continued (and continues) to do what she had to do to hold her family together. I’ve seen her sad, even depressed, but never succumb to self-pity.
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Misery loves company? Maybe not
I have my days. Days when I’m not so jovial, when it takes all I have to stay off the “woe is me” soapbox. But I’m generally a pretty happy person. Giddy and silly even. I love laughing, joking, and I revel in other people’s joy. I don’t like to be miserable, so I’ve always tried to surround myself with joyful, like-minded people.
But yesterday, I almost cried. Not because I was having a down day but because it seemed everybody around me was miserable. Everyone I called. Everyone I encountered. It was something I’d never experienced before. Even the man in the housewares department at Wal-Mart exclaimed “CRAP!” as I approached him. I called my usually dependable source of sunshine that evening, hoping to erase the misery and unwarranted attitudes I’d come in contact with all day, but even there I was disappointed. Every one I tried to cheer up with my cheerfulness was unreceptive because, I suppose, they wanted to stay unhappy — and maybe they wished I’d shut up and be unhappy right along with them. By the end of the day, it had become overwhelming, and I guess you can say the misery rubbed off. They (the miserables) had succeeded in making me lose sight of my own joy. But I’m not angry at them, I’m upset with myself because essentially I let them take me away from me — if only for a moment. So, I went into isolation for the rest of the night because the old adage may be true for some miserable people, but I’d much rather be alone.
Single satisfaction
Some women (God bless them) are seemingly born to be wives and mothers, having the patience of Job, God-given grace and compassion and the task-juggling ability to rival a circus act.
Others among us just THINK we’re born to be mothers and wives. We think it’s our life’s sole purpose. In fact, some of us think and worry about that “purpose” so much, we actually forget we’re capable of ...
<< MORE >>Things that make you go hmmmm: Incest in the dungeon
Case in point: The recent discovery of a 40-something woman, whose father kept her locked in a dungeon of sorts for more than 20 years. During that time, he raped her repeatedly, and she bore his seven children. This sickening story has been reported over and over this week and the more I hear it, the more questions I have — ...
"Perfume & Panties": One Year Later
In the meantime, I'd like to thank my cheerleaders (you all know who you are) for your continued love and support — you make my passion more fulfilling. I'd also like to give you an update on the many things I've had going on for the past year.
As life, love and experiences — good and bad — continue, I will continue to bring you the best of me through poetry. Occasionally, I'll give a sneak peak of a poem I'm working on by posting it here or on MySpace (I appreciated the feedback). And hopefully soon, I'll have another personal collection to share with you and the world.
I'm also working on my first novel. I'm new at this so with that I learn something new ever day. The process is really working on me (writer's block, distractions, etc.), but I'm growing. And I pray the finished product is proof of that.
As practice, I'm working on a MySpace exclusive titled "Jaded," which is a "twisted novella" as I like to call it, in collaboration with my dear friend and fellow writer Zanetta Rivers. If you're on MySpace and haven't already, add me as a friend and check it out. I'm hoping it'll become something big. If it does, remember you got to so see it first.
I'm still blogging here, as you can see. Whenever I have random thoughts or insight, I feel the need to let the world know. Sometimes, I feel like people get sick of hearing my mouth, but hey, it's what I do.
One other note: I will begin work on my MFA (master of fine arts) in the fall, which I'm super excited about. (Keep me in your prayers though because I've been out of school for a minute now.)
And I think that about sums it up. Thanks again, everybody, for making "Perfume & Panties" what it is! And I know I gave you a shout out in the book, but thanks to those who inspired my work. Your lessons in my life have been invaluable in my growth as a writer and a woman!
Peace and blessings,
— Saria Monette
What's in my ear?
Me singing in excitement — lol!!!