Millennials are murderers.
I miss you.
I’ve been in California for one year (and one week…it took me a lot longer to write this than I planned.)
If there’s one thing you should know about me, know that I have the memory of a goldfish. It’s one of my least favorite features about myself because it impacts my life so severely, at least in my mind, every day. If I am in the middle of a story and somebody interrupts me, there is a large chance I will forget everything I was just talking about, even if the interruption lasts mere seconds. It’s a problem. It’s why my biggest pet peeve is when people interrupt me because it will throw me off so badly and I’ll subsequently feel so frustrated at them for cutting me off and at myself for having an addled memory at such a young age.
I’ve been thinking about trauma a lot lately. I know, not necessarily the most light hearted way to start, but I’m hoping to entice you with my brevity and deep, deep thoughts at the top of this post.
At this point, we can all agree that 2016 was absolutely horrible. From hashtags to news articles, everyone everywhere decided that this year was a gigantic dumpster fire never to be spoken of again. And while that very well may be true, despite the magnificent horribleness of this trashcan year, Black people proved to be the shining light in an otherwise dark 2016. Between political and economic turmoil, our music, movies, television, art, and overall goodness was the tape and glue holding us all together, and it’s important to give us our props for being so amazing in an otherwise difficult and terrible time. So without further adieu, let’s look at some of the greatness we exuded these past 365 days.
The Christmas movie market has been oversaturated for what feels like forever, ballooning as big as Santa’s own bag of gifts. Luckily for us, that means that there are plenty of Christmas movies featuring and starring Black people! There are so many new Black holiday masterpieces, like The Best Man Holiday and This Christmas and classics like Soul Food and The Preacher’s Wife. But, I wanna focus on lesser known films and TV movies, and the ones without Loretta Devine as the auntie or Tyler Perry in a dress.
Less than six months ago, I wrote a post titled “The Dangers of White Faves” in which I made a case for my anxiety regarding being a fan of white celebrities because you never know if/when they will say something racist. I specifically mentioned my tortured love of Grey’s Anatomy as an example since there’s so many white people on that show.
Short post today. Wasn’t planning on writing this, but someone keeps commenting long ass comments on my blog posts as if I’m gonna read the whole thing; as if you’re entitled to my time with your nonsense. This is for you:
Please discontinue commenting on or reading my posts. Think what you want, but this is my platform, not yours. If you want to voice your wrongness, please go right ahead on your own website and stop bothering me 🙂
When I was little, the way I would get over the fear of getting shots at the doctor was to imagine that in ten minutes or so, it would be over and my mom or dad would give me ice cream for being so good. I reasoned with myself that even though it would hurt and be scary, it would be ok because later on something good would happen. I’ve carried that kind of thinking with me into adulthood, which can be a good and bad thing; it (sometimes) motivates me to endure something I don’t want to solely for the reward at the end, but as I’ve learned, rewards aren’t always guaranteed.