Can You See Me?

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via The Beautiful Struggler - Me, Myself and Eye

I'm trying the mobile blog thing again! This is my sorry for 2009 if it doesn't work. I'm reporting live and direct from the slums of Interfaith Medical Center, hoping to get this stupid cast off. Shackles of my feet so I can dance, dangit! This woman's perfume is offending my olfactory spirit and all that is right with the world.

What's new, pussycats? I've been in my new crib two weeks. The new roommates are cool, minus the fact that one of them is messy and is in some sort of band. And I think he plays the pot and pan in said band. I came home one night to see that foolishness and walked straight back out the house. I live closer to Myrtle Avenue now, whereas my main drag was Fulton Street previously. It's like being in a whole new neighborhood! I have more restaurants to choose from (as opposed to just Crown Fried Chicken, Kennedy Fried Chicken, Super Crown, Super Kennedy and the Chinese spot). And I'm spitting distance from the train. I have found ghetto heaven!

I'm allegedly scheduled to turn 25 on Wednesday, but I'm just letting yall know right now, I'm telling people I am 24 for another year. I say that every year, but I am dead ass this time. And given that I technically graduated from college in 2007, I still have an extra year of youth eligibility to play out. So if anyone asks you, your favorite blogger is 24 and was born in 1985. That's my story and I am sticking to it.
Now, I acknowledge that 25 is still damn young and that while 30's not the new 20, the expectations of a 25 year old in 2010 are not what they were in my parent's youth. However, I am just not comfortable with this proximity to 30. I'm enjoying my 20's too much to be looking at the front door! I was so awkward and insecure until I was 23, I need some of that lost time back to wear skeezer clothes to the club and what not.

Plus, 25 is definitely the point where older men have abandoned any concerns about a woman being too young for them. Six or seven years my senior is one thing. Maybe even 10 if dude is fiiiine. But these 50 year old dust buckets need to quit and I resent that telling them my age is not enough of a deterrent. With all due respect, you were probably rusty and gross at my age. You have aged not like wine, but like grape jelly instead. As Kweli once said "Leave me alone like Michael Jackson/or there'll be more than 'Butterflies' in your stomach", real talk.

Holla!
Sister Toldja

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