ME Time ๐Ÿ’๐Ÿฝ

Lately, I’ve been in a bit of a funk; disappointed by my current lack of employment and lack of boyfriend (lol), I haven’t been the happiest. Although temporary and not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, I was … Sad. These feelings have given me an urgent need to explore, meet new people, get out of NYC. But alas, the unemployment holds be back from traveling. But to satisfy this need, I decided I just need to be alone. 

So yesterday, I ventured to Union Square, a place I’ve been like a million times. Although it wasn’t a new environment, it made me feel calm and whole again. I window shopped at stores, spoke to strangers, and most importantly: tried new food!

I went to Uma Temakeria. It’s a sushi restaurant, set up like Chipotle. The sushi are served burrito style or on a cone called “Temaki”. I chose Temaki. Customers choose their own fillings from a list of provided foods, like Chipotle. I got salmon, cucumbers, carrots, tempura crunch and avocado lime sauce in my sushi cone. It was delicious!! Not filling due to its small size, but delicious all the same. I topped it off with a “Blue Hawaiian” smoothie from Edible Atrangements.

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It was a great outing and something I suggest to the masses. It’s great to go out on your own and just enjoy the little things. Sometimes when you’re feeling down, you just need a break from the norm. Treat yourself- take yourself out to dinner, buy yourself those expensive shoes. And always, always indulge in a delicious meal! 

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When your skin is your crimeย 

Here we go again…

Once again a black man has been unjustly shot and killed leaving his family and friends behind. Why does this keep happening? Why are our lives seen as disposable? Why does our very presence pose a threat? Questions that have been around since slavery, I’m sure. But still there are no sufficient answers. It’s 2016 and this racist society still has not been dismantled, nothing has changed.
Posting blacklivesmatter and the name of every victim has not and is not going to change anything. Words don’t mean much, they don’t compare to the actions taken my individuals to disprove that fact. Racism is an ideology based on a system that had stakes in the economy, social norms, legal system, education system, etc. Even millions of repost won’t change this centuries old system that is evident in basically everything.

But these hashtags and reposts do reach millions and inform them of the tragedies that occur on American soil against its own people. During the civil rights movement, the government was forced to recognize the atrocities against black people in part due to the media attention they received around the world and the solidarity and strength of blacks. The mistreatment of black people was disgusting and embarrassed the nation in the eyes of other countries. Land of the free, a hypocritical statement. All people created equal with unalienable rights, a downright lie.

The hypocrisy and lies of America have shown their ugly truths once again with the deaths of not one, but two African American men at the hands of police officers. Alton Sterling and Philando Castile, innocent at the moments of their deaths, not threats, only men with families who faced the barrel of guns blazing. Whenever these tragedies occur there is an uproar but no change, why not? What the hell can possibly be done?? I wish I had an answer.

Arguments erupt online over fault, like videos are not evidence enough. Murder. Those cops were murderers, racist pussy murderers. All police officers are not like this, some truly care for citizens and try to save us. Undoubtedly they face horror we can’t imagine, that most of us don’t know of. But if you cannot handle your job with a clear conscience, unclouded judgements, and no biases, you should NOT be doing this job. If you are afraid ofpeople who are different than you, you should NOT be doing this job. There are so many other ways these situations can be handled, without drawn guns. Suspicion doesn’t call for bullets.

Philando Castile’s murder is eerily reminiscent of the beating of Rodney King to me. Routine traffic stops become an excuse for a black man to become a punching bag or in a body bag. ย It’s not fair. The most disgusting part of his death, is that it’s his girlfriend who alerts the masses. Her daughter, a four year old child, was in the car and that one cop still showed no discretion or sympathy. Asshole move.

Video evidence wasn’t enough for Rodney King, Eric Garner, etc. Live witnesses wasn’t enough for Sean Bell, Mike Brown, etc. A prayer wasn’t enough for those nine churchgoers., etc. The age of innocence wasn’t enough for Tamir Rice, Trayvon Martin, etc. What will be enough? When will it be enough?

I’m heartbroken, angry, and disgusted at these horrific events. I’m even more saddened by my inability to help. We’re past the times of Nat Turner, MLK, Malcolm X, and the Black Panthers. Every method of revenge, every sign of resilience has been tried and true, over and over again. What are we supposed to do now??

Men, Fireworks & Milkshakes

No means no, right? If she ignores you and walks a little faster, that means no too. But somehow words and body language still manage to be misunderstood by idiots with no boundaries.

So here’s some background:

Yesterday was July 4th, Independence Day (woo-hoo ๐Ÿ™„). This day, which I don’t think anyone really celebrates it for what it is, is an excuse for parties, BBQs, drunk nights, and fireworks. It is also a day (like every other) on which some guys accost and harass women. My friend and I needed plans, it was 4th of July and we refused to be stuck in our homes binge watching on Netflix. So we left our Brooklyn abodes, where firecrackers (or gunshots) reverberated against our apartment walls. We made it onto and off of the crowded until High Street A train. The streets along 8th avenue were relatively empty, as most people were already posted at the fireworks viewing locations.

Our destination was Black Tap Craft, home of the over-the-top milkshakes. There was about a twenty minute wait, but we got in earlier after the bouncer convinced us to sit at the bar. The milkshakes were beautiful and delicious, super sweet and actually kind of filling (luckily we didn’t indulge in burgers). We hung out inside for a while because it started to rain heavily. When the downpour subsided a little, we decided to venture out into the drizzle.

There are many overcrowded venues to watch the sky be lit up, but I decided to go to The High Line since it was closest to us. That was a poor decision since the article I read was wrong and the journey there was disrupted by an asshole. Only one block away fro. Black Tap, in the midst of conversation, a random guy sticks out a hand to be shook between us (which we don’t touch, ew). “I’m interested, I like your look.” He says to me. Me nor my friend reply, but he continues. “Where you from? You look like you’re from Jersey” At this, we both give him an incredulous look, my friend actually IS from Jersey. I ask, “What does that mean? What does a person from jersey look like?” Wrong thing to do because he just keeps talking. Thankfully the light changes, which my friend remarks and he ignores. He follows us as we walk away. 

Then the worst happens: he puts his arm around me. I immediately push it off and move. “Don’t touch me. Keep your hands to yourself.” I say as we try to walk faster, unfortunately he keeps up. “Why? Do you have HIV or something?” WTF. What’s wrong with this dude? I give him a dirty looked say ” I don’t know what you have but don’t touch me”. He laughs. Once again, my friend speaks and he ignores.  

Then comes more disrespect. We’re both ignoring him and halfway to the next avenue and he’s still following us. He says something about a”volleyball booty” which I ignore. He’s still talking. “Aren’t your friends back there?” I ask in a rude tone. He disregards our annoyance with a loud “anyway”. Sick of his antics, my friend and I loop arms and jog away. Finally he gets the hint and stops following us, not before he yells at me, “I don’t like your butt anymore!”

No longer bothered by the jerk, we make it to the High Line, unbothered. We were so distracted by him, that we didn’t notice the emptiness of 14th street. Shouldn’t more people be here? We walk up the stairs and it’s empty, except for us and a creepy statue. The article I read which listed The High Line, was totally wrong. We only caught flashes  of  red and blue skies as the fireworks sparkled over the East River.