Celie's Rocking Chair

Sigh. Why can't I already be a successful author/screenwriter/playwright/producer/philanthropist? Is it because I am 19? No, it is because I have motivation problems at this moment. Sometimes I blame it on my surroundings. When I went to ATL for Thanksgiving (who from Blogville lives there besides Trent? I saw some mens giving me the double take), all these great ideas came to me and I was writing and writing. Texas is so slow. I thought moving to Austin would help, but it only has helped slightly.

I'm thinking about relocating in 2008 or 2009. Where should I go?

I attempted to get my money from Big D. We first went to Grandmother's Crack Den (& Chicken Parlor). We both approached the door and a gang of her tall grandsons were guarding the door. Gerald's dumb ass attempted to go into the house anyway and ignore the crowd of aggressive gangster wannabes who were probably yearning for an excuse to kick somebody's ass.

Scary Black Male: Yo, you need to back up out this do' and stop comin' around here lookin' for D. This my grandmama's house and aint no niggas gon be rollin up and through here.

Gerald: Well we're just trying to-

Now at this point I'm ready to give up on Grandmother's milk and cookie laden house of love, but the mentally rearranged Gerald is determined.

Scary Black Male: Yo I betta not see YOU or dis nigga here at this door again.

I was visible? He could see me? If I was a middle aged white woman, my clutch purse would have been clutched.

Gerald: What? I do whatever I want, mother fucker!

Oh no.. this dude looked like he was ready to pull out the gat and start unloading.

SBM: Yeah let me catch you round here again and see what the fuck happens to you.

The two continued to exchange heated words as we walked towards my car. Finally, the encounter climaxed in a loud screaming match filled with threats of violence.

Do you recall the scene in The Color Purple where Mister is about to make a huge explosion in the kitchen and Celie is in the rocking chair? Well, that was me. By the time they both calmed down, I was ghost.

It appeared that the tide had turned in Big D's favor. No one wanted to help us out this time around. The only thing left to do was file a police report. Now the police didn't give two beatings of Rodney King about my situation, so I guess I'll have to see what happens. Either way, I'm not going to let him get away with robbing me!

Well, folks, I'm at work and I have to close my window. Leave something inspiring in the momment section.