Category Archives: Entries

This is the end, baby dolls…


I hope all is well and you are fabulous.

So in case you guys haven’t noticed I haven’t really been blogging that much. And when I do blog there’s this huge lag time between the next post. I just haven’t really been that inspired to write right now.

So this is the end.

I loved writing Some Fabulous Chick’s Blog. Did you know that I posted 445 posts? That’s AHmazing. Overall, I’ve received over 2,000 views from countries all over the world including India, France, Germany, Brazil, and Ghana. I loved inspiring you (hopefully…), giving you great music to listen to, advice, and just being a girl and venting to you guys. I loved hearing you guys and being heard. But I think I’m ready for a different direction, a change. Don’t me wrong. I am still FABULOUS, dahhhling, but I don’t know if I’m “Some Fabulous Chick” anymore. I’m just Maryam. And I’ll be blogging at a new place called “Maryam.” at

I’m such a girl. “I’m at a new phase in my life…”


Anyway, I love you guys so much. Thank you for reading, commenting, liking, nominating me for awards and all of your support. You may continue to read posts and comment and like, as I will not be deleting the site. Thank you for reading, for listening to my voice across the bloggosphere. Thank you for giving me the most success that I’ve ever had with a blog. Thank you for allowing me to be myself and your “fabulous chick.”

I LOVE you. And I am forever and fabulously yours…



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The Art Of Being a Freshman

As I am writing this post note that I am forcing back tears because my parents just literally walked out of the door. Also, I have to stay awake until 10:30 PM to catch this bus going to Target.


What they don’t tell you about college is all the emotions.

I’m sad because my Mom just walked out of the door and I now have to figure things out on my own. Even though I know this is the school for me, I just don’t know how I’ll figure this out. And because no matter how many rugs or decorative pieces I throw in this room, this will never be home.

I’m happy because there’s this level of “independence.” Something that as an only child, and a student at a really small high school  where everyone was breathing down your neck I’ve never really experienced.

I’m nervous because this is a new town and I’m young to be in college and this is kind of scary.

I’m jealous because I’ve seen people walking and talking to people like they’re friends and I haven’t befriended a single sole- yet. And because my roommate is really calm right now when I’m forcing back tears.

But there’s this little voice in me that’s saying “Maryam you’ll be OK. You can totally do this. This the school for you. Something feels right.”

And I’m sure that voice is right, but right now I’m doubtful. And so scared.

So I don’t know what the point of this post was. I don’t know if it was to vent or to scare the hell out of you or to potentially scare the hell put of myself.

But I can do this. Right? Those knots aren’t doubt, they’re just nervousness and little fear. I’ll be OK.

I hope.



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You never know you’re loved… until goodbye.

Hello, loves!

I’ve missed you! Have you missed me?

Gosh it’s been so longed since I’ve posted.

It’s a shame.

But between packing for school, working, and just overall being busy I haven’t really had the time- or the inspiration- until now.

Today was my supposed “trunk party.”

A party planned like a week before it was supposed to happen, that I really didn’t even think was going to happen, and a party that the invites were sent by text message as we pulled to the side of the road. But I’m so glad I had one now. I kept it small- only around twenty people were invited just a few friends that I’ve known forever and family.

And you know? I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so loved by so many people at the same time. I know I’m loved. I know I’m liked, but I mean so many people were genuinely sad to see me go. And it’s a little surprising. See, my last year of high school I had all of my credits and I didn’t come to high school that often because I was taking college classes. I kind of felt a little left out. Like there were jokes I wasn’t getting, events I wasn’t being invited to, and overall like I was missing out. It was weird because I’d been going to the same school with the same people since preschool- and to not have that shared experience anymore- I felt kind of bad. I was missing out on complaining about homework, teachers and lunch with the people who’d I’d been doing it with for so long. And then I feel like certain friends have developed stronger friendships with one another than the ones that I have with those individuals. So you forget that you’ll be missed. You forget that you’re loved, and liked, and admired.

I call it “unverified love.” You think you know it, but it’s never really been said or felt strong enough. And now it’s been verified that I’m loved. And I appreciate that. It’s such a shame though that we never really show emotion until we have to say goodbye. Until someone goes to college, moves, or God forbid… passes on. Have you ever noticed how funerals can really bring people together? It’s so sad. We take one another for granted so much- myself included.

So today? Tell somebody you love them, or you miss them, or you want to be with them, or do something nice to express that. Because you never know when you’ll be forced to say goodbye.



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Ohhh It Was RED!!!!!!

I went to my TAY TAY concert. Whoop Whoop!

OMG. I had soooo much fun, y’all. You don’t even understand.

Here’s a head-to-toe breakdown of the outfit that I wore:


Cynthia Rowley Sunglasseses- $10


Earrings- Like literally $3

Ring (made using an antique earring) from a Modern & Vintage Jewelry show- $15 or $20

Bracelet from Kohls- Around $10


Rachel Roy Shirt from Macy’s- $45 on sale for around $30

Drop Crotch or “Genie” Pants from Akira- $45


Leather Hobo Clutch from Marshall’s- $50 on sale for $40


Dolce Vita Sandals from Nordstrom’s Rack- Like $40?

OK, so here’s what happened before the concert:

I went to this program for rappers, singers, and poets to audition for this program to cultivate their skills. Their acceptance was based on their audition, their health (they exercised), and a little bit of intelligence. I was like a time keeper. It was OK. I was glad to help. I looked fabulous by the way. But anyway, after that I met up with my friends and we went to go pick up one of their tickets at tne stadium at around 3 something. Did you know Swifties were already there? OMG and I saw so many people in red who had drawn on their faces and legs like the number 13 and song lyrics and stuff. It’s so cool to think about how many people (out of 50,000) in my city were in Red yesterday (notice it’s capitalized). After we’d gotten her ticket, which we were totally sent on a goose chase by the way and sent to walk around when the tickets were right behind the guy who sent us on the wild goose chase, and I was in heels, we got changed at a friend’s house and then we were off… into traffic that wasn’t moving nearly fast enough so we got out and walked. Yes. Walked. Read that Tay Tay? I got out walked for you. I don’t walk when there’s perfectly good transportation around. That’s how much I love you gyrl. And eventually we started running. I was running for Tay Tay and my friend was running for Austin Mahone, who was an opening act, a.k.a. her “baby daddy.” Lolz. My two other friends were struggling to keep up. And then I got the tickets from this little website and I was worried if they were fake. I actually called and they confirmed that the tickets were real but they give out multiples of the same ticket, so we had to be there first and we’d only showed up about a half-an- hour befoe the show was supposed to start. So you can only imagine my relief when the tickets were real, only after they couldn’t scan the ticket. Oh GAWD, I started running as soon as they let me through.

OK, so the first act was Casey James who I had no idea existed until yesterday, and then Austin Mahone performed and my friend cried nearly five times, and then Ed Sheeran performed and he’s like some kind of orange haired rapper/singer/beat-boxer/guitar hitting/musical perfection. He’s AHmazing and if I wasn’t a fan before I am now.

Here’s the stage. One of my friends were in the pod, so jelly…:


Are you seeing red?:


The crowd of 50,000:



I was trying to capture the wave that the whole crowd was doing. But I had a Flip Video, which is really old, and I couldn’t zoom in to the extent that I wanted:

Ed Sheeran:

004 009 008 006 005


And here’s Tay Tay:

013 014 019 018 017 016 015 022 023 024 026 025 021 020

When she came on I screamed and I’m sorry if you can hear my horrible, horrible singing. I was sick too, and still am sick. All that singing and screaming made my throat that much worse:

And here’s her singing some more. Mind you I’m no director:

I had so much fun you guys. I wish I had taken more videos but I felt like I was missing so much while trying to record. And guess what? Taylor said that she chose my city as the last big stadium show because we’re really good and crazy fans and we dress up. And she’s so cute you guys, she was poise and proper as she said “Welcome to the Red Tour.” And she performed two songs with no shoes. She’s so down to Earth and she walked through the crowd on the floor and touched hands and she walked (well… kind of danced) to this smaller stage, that you can see above, so all of us in the back could see her better. Isn’t she AHmazing guys? And she cried during the performance of “I Almost Do.” And she played the banjo and piano guys. And it was so colorful and she had these ballet dancers and her fiddle player did this fierce performance on a red fiddle. Tay Tay is like my Beyonce. And you know she’s getting this kind of fierce walk and she really pops those hips… Get fierce gyrl, get fierce. Oh I am so going to the next concert. Thank you so much Tay Tay for one of the best nights of my life! I never sat down during your performances! And I didn’t get home until around 2 AM…

Have you been to a Taylor Swift concert this year? How much did you enjoy the Red Tour?



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Thoughts… on Dat Religion.

So, I’m sixteen. At this age I  should be ready to accept the religion that I was raised in and that I do believe. Right?


Well… kind of.

In my mind and heart I’ve already accepted my religion. But there’s this final step: I have to write a letter to sort of officiate the acceptance.

But I’m still waiting on my magic moment. I don’t know what that’ll be. Maybe I’ll like be standing in a mountain and get some sort of sign. Maybe this cold will go away. Maybe this cute guy will show up on my doorstep in a blue box with a pair of size 6 1/2 Loubouins. I don’t know….

Well I’m going to finish watching Religulous now, but tell me… when did you know you were ready to accept a religion? Or how did you know that you weren’t ready and/or wouldn’t accept a religion?

Let me know!



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OMG. This. Is. Really. Happening.

So today I got a text message… from my roommate at the college I’m going to attend!!!

I was so excited that I screamed and jumped like it wasn’t an eighteen-year-old girl texting me, but like it was Barbara Streisand, .


Because it’s conformation people! This is really happening! I am really going away to college… and its one of the best design schools ever.

So here are the deets:

Her name is Shelby and she’s from Houston Texas and her major is photography. I’ve looked her up on Facebook and she’s like this Caucasian girl with natural strawberry- blonde hair. She seems to be a tee-shirt and jeans kind of girl- which is completely unlike me. But who cares? She seems kind of nice. Who knows? I hope that we can become friends and not just roommates. And even though I was hoping for my own  Larissa Loughlin from the Carrie Diaries, British accent and all, I’d love to room with a Texas gyrl! She could share my love of horses… I don’t discriminate. I just hope that if she’s a redneck that she’s an open-minded redneck. I imagine she’ll choke when she finds out I’m a vegetarian…



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You know what the problem with growing up is?

Clashing with your parents.

And my clashing isn’t even

“Maryam I don’t like your fiancee.”

“Maryam I don’t like the fact that you went off and joined the circus.”

or even

“Maryam, I don’t like the fact that you wrote something about me and posted it on the internet.”


It’s “Maryam I don’t like the tone that you’re using.”


I had a tone? But I wasn’t even feeling angry or sarcastic.

And my mother’s all “You can’t speak to me that way! I AM YOUR MOTHER! I carried you for nine months! I went to Death’s Door to bring you into this world!”

And I’m like “But I don’t even remember hearing a tone…”

See I’m not trying to be mean, disrespectful, or sarcastic. Things just come out.

And you know what’s worse?

My parents are separated as of a few days ago.

That means that when my mother is upset with me, she can’t go talk to father and he make her even more upset and I shield my %!@ skating on thin ice with his %!@ skating on thin ice.

So when she’s angry I’m like the only probable cause.

My mother and I had a rocky relationship for years where I just like literally hated her. I don’t want to tread in those waters again.

This is just proof that it’s time for me to leave. We both need change.

And I can’t be one those people who after college goes back to live with their parents.

I’d come into the house one night and she’d ask me “Where have you been?”

And I’d be like “A gallery opening in SoHo.”

And she’d say “Oh that’s nice. You know it was your night to wash the dishes, right?”

And I’d wonder to myself I’m [insert whatever over eighteen age here] Why the hell am I having a conversation with my mother about how it’s my turn to wash the dishes?

And then I’d feel sorry myself.

Have you ever had issues with your parents? How did you work them out? Let me know.



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You know what the problem with cute boys is?

They’re cute boys.

From second one your problems begin.

Their cheeks have been pinched, their bee-hines have been slapped, they’ve been given doe- eyes, and giggles since birth and they know they’re cute. So they’re all like I’m cute, I know you think I’m cute, I know you know that I know that I’m cute. And you’re cute. So we’ll make like pretty rainbows together…

You know?

And then you tell yourself “He’s not my type. I’m trying to conquer the world in my high heels. I’m going to be in college soon. I don’t have time for this. I don’t need this in my life right now.” And before you know this cute has you laughing, and he’s invading your thoughts, and you start looking into those eyes and falling into a deep brown abyss of beautifulness.


My point is: I wish that this kind of cute boy didn’t work where I work. I was perfectly fine with the awkward guy with glasses and kind of weird dude okay?

And he’s all invading my table at lunch, and asking me questions, and coming to my desk, and asking me how I got so fine. What is this? Leave me alone! You’re dangerous. And I bet I’m not the only girl your flirting with. And I know you were checking me out! You don’t appreciate me for my intelligence or wit or the fact that I was reading at lunch instead of stuffing my face!!!

You see why cute boys are dangerous?! You can’t trust them. Having a cute boy around is like putting a piece of cheese next to an ant. Something is bound to happen eventually. Even if its just in your mind.


Dangerous! Dangerous I tell you!!!



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There is and was no need to…

I’m OK.

Both of us are.

We talked. We even laughed. But we did not cry.

There is and was no need to.



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You know what’s funny about death?

Not a God damn thing.

Death is sad and ugly and heart-wrenching.

And sudden.

Those are the worst types of deaths- the sudden ones. Even the cases when the person is sick, sometimes it still feels like that person was ripped right from your life.

And you know what the worst part of someone dying is?

Feeling like you have to pretend that you’re O.K.

Today at work, all of the employees found that a co-worker who had been working at the company for years passed away.

Everybody was crying and was carrying tissues. I walked in smiling and something told me my smile was out of place today. I walked in smiling and nobody was really smiling back. And then I found out that the person had passed. And I noticed that the woman that I work with was really sad and kind of discombobulated, but she had to force herself to be OK, because she was still at work. And then I felt like I was about to start crying because I started thinking about death. And I wasn’t even sad. I was hella tired, but not sad.

Death is a whore’s daughter. And I would know. I lost my best friend in the 5th grade. I haven’t had one since.

Losing someone can be really scary because you start thinking about your own life and how anything can happen at any time. And then it’s also really scary when you find yourself forgetting things about the people in your life that you’ve lost. I can’t even remember what Maliah (my best friend) sounded like when she laughed, I can’t remember the way she spoke, or the best piece of advice she’d ever given me. That’s scary. I don’t want my memories of her to fade away because that’s how I keep her alive.

I don’t even remember the point of this post, but I do want to give you some advice if you’ve recently lost someone.

Move on.

I remember my mother told me that I had to move on from the lost of my best friend. I was like “what?” How am I supposed to do that? I was like ten and to have someone my age who I loved get taken from me really shook up my little world. In addition, I was in a really insecure place in my life, and I remember that I would ask God why He took her life instead of mine. And every time her birthday came around I would get really sad, and there would be plenty of nights that I would see her picture and think about her and cry myself to sleep.

When I say move on, I don’t mean move on from the memories or your love for the person that you’ve lost or force yourself to forget them or forget their passing. I mean that you have to get to a place where it doesn’t hurt so much. Where you can think about the good things about that person, where you can remember that they’re at peace and they never have to struggle a day in their lives anymore. That’s where I had to go. That’s where I am now. In the face of death, you can get have some really dangerous thoughts and do some dangerous things because the pain can be really great.

But you have to live and let live. For your own sake.



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Thoughts… on Dat Flirtation…


1550s, originally “to turn up one’s nose, sneer at,” then “to rap or flick, as with the fingers” (1560s). Thenoun is first attested 1540s, with the meaning “stroke of wit.”


so let’s talk about flirtation…

I am near horrible when it comes knowing when I’m being flirted with.

This is what I’m saying in my mind when I think I’m being flirted with:

Was that a wink?

What does he mean by that?

Wait… is he flirting with me?

Does he know he’s not my type?

OK, SERIOUSLY that a wink or a twitch?

If that’s a twitch he needs to get that looked at…

This is getting weird… I gotta go…

Why is he looking at me like that?

Don’t I have something to do in the opposite direction?

(to the first person who walks by) Hellllllllllllllllllllp meeeee…

(to my notreallymyfriendbutI’llpretendlikewe’refriendstowalkthehellawayfromthissituation) “Hey girl, how’s that thing that we were talking about never.” *and walks away*

Huh. See sometimes, unless I’m being looked up and down, I don’t know when I’m being flirted with. And then I get really uncomfortable when the person whose flirting with me is old, disgusting, and has no chance in hell.

Like as I walking in the house a few minutes ago, this old guy with practically no teeth and a cigarette in his mouth was all like “You look good. Real good.” And you look old and nasty. Real old. Real nasty.  I jammed my key into the door so fast… Where does he come from? I don’t even think he lives over here…

Anyway… I’m not that good of a flirter (Is that spelled right?) either. By the time a guy figures out that I like him, it’s too late. I am mentally in a relationship with somebody else. I have moved on. I have packed by invisible things and my thoughts and dreams are dedicated to another someone.

The train has left that station.

Elvis has left the building.

Haute couture has left the runway. The fabulous had been sucked out of fashion. Things are done. The party’s over.

Too much? OK.

So let’s talk about flirtation? How do I know when I’m being flirted with? How do I get out of situations when I’m being flirted with by a person who is not… cute or interesting or has halitosis? And how do you flirt? What are your tricks of the trade?

Tell me you fabulous flirting divas…  teach me your wisdom…

Let me know…




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Lady Lightning: The Wild Woman

Hello, dolls! I don’t know where you are or what you’re doing but I hope all is well and life is fabulous!

OK, so today in horse class instead of having class in the inside arena we had class in the outside arena. Now, the best place to horseback ride is outside because it feels absolutely AHmazing when you’re riding and the wind is blowing through the holes in your helmet. But you should only ride outside when your feel comfortable riding inside.

And here’s why: my Lady Lightning, who’s 24, which technically mans she’s old for a horse, who’s so sweet and slow and lazy and nonchalant was moving like a speed demon today.

I don’t know, something happens. Horses get outside and see grass and sky and for a minute- they forget they’ve been domesticated. They start like running and feeling the air flowing through their mane and they’re “like this is awesome- why have I been in my stall for the past few months?” So Lady was like trotting really fast and cantering fast and was trying to  canter even when I didn’t ask her to and was tripping (like literally) and stuff. And did I mention that a horse spooked her and she ran for like five to ten seconds? Not cantered… ran. Big deal. Big difference. I even had to tell her to “Stop, stop,” because she was getting excited and trying to canter even when I didn’t ask her too, and I’ve never had to do that with Lady Lightning. But I guess it’s good for me because I have to be that much more in control and attentive especially because there were barrels and other set ups for jumps and Lady Lighting undoubtedly would’ve jumped if I had let her.

Speed demon that Lady Lightning is.

And then she put spit on my hand when I fed her a carrot! And the spit was bubbly. Ewww…

But then again… she is Lady Lightning and I love her and I genuinely feel like we’re friends, like we understand each other. I’ve never had any bond with an animal as strong as the bond that I feel with Lady. She’s really my BHF. Best horse-y friend.

‘Til next time…



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Hello July!


July  is the seventh month of the year in the Julian and Gregorian Calendars and one of seven months with the length of 31 days. It was named by the Roman Senate in honor of the Roman general, Julius Caesar, it being the month of his birth. Prior to that, it was called Quintilis.

It is, on average, the warmest month in most of the Northern hemisphere (where it is the second month of summer) and the coldest month in much of the Southern hemisphere (where it is the second month of winter). The second half of the year commences in July. In the Southern hemisphere, July is the seasonal equivalent of January in the Northern hemisphere.

Other July facts:

  • July’s birthstone is the ruby, which symbolizes contentment
  • Its birth flowers are the Larkspur or the Water Lily.
  • The Zodiac signs for the month of July include Cancer (astrology) (until July 21) and Leo (astrology) (July 22 onward).

Characteristics of people born in July:

  • Fun to be with
  • Difficult to fathom and to be understood
  • Quiet unless excited or tensed
  • Takes pride in oneself
  • Has reputation
  • Easily consoled
  • Honest
  • Concern about people’s feelings
  • Tactful
  • Friendly
  • Approachable
  • Very emotional
  • Temperamental and unpredictable
  • Moody and easily hurt
  • Witty and starkly
  • Sentimental
  • Not revengeful
  • Forgiving but never forgets
  • Dislike nonsensical and unnecessary things
  • Guides others physically and mentally
  • Sensitive and forms impressions carefully
  • Caring and loving
  • Treats others equally
  • Strong sense of sympathy
  • Wary and sharp
  • Judge people through observations
  • Hardworking
  • No difficulties in studying
  • Loves to be alone
  • Likes to be quiet
  • Homely person
  • Waits for friends
  • Never looks for friends
  • Not aggressive unless provoked
  • Loves to be loved
  • Overly concerned
  • Puts in effort in work

Other facts about July? This is the month that I graduate. Finally! Thank, Gawd.

May you have a beautiful July! Happy sun bathing!



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Sanity Check: Week 3

Let me just begin by saying that, with time, Insanity doesn’t get easier people. No, you’re just able to last longer when you’re doing the exercise, you don’t start to like the exercises. But anyway, I’ve skipped like three or four days of Insanity (shame on me). I’ve been told that I look like I’ve lost a few inches, which is good but not all that thrilling because she said inches, not pounds.

So, I’ve moved on to a DVD entitled “Pure Cardio” in which Shaun T. falls on the floor and proclaims “This sh*t is bananas.”

I agree.

Why the hell are you doing this then? I was fine before you Mr. Shaun T. I was content in my ability to not be able to do push- ups, please and thank you! And so was the rest of America! We were cruising along and drowning ourselves, happily, in chocolate and ice cream and ketchup. And then you come along and promote this extremism called “Insanity!”

*she calms down*

As you can tell, Insanity is rough and makes you kind of angry towards Mr. Shaun T. Maybe its all those damn exercises that involve squats!

Until next week.



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Sanity Check: Week 2

OK, so this is week two of doing the Insanity workout (Check out week one here). So I’ve moved on from the “Not- so- crazy workout,” the precursor to the actual Insanity workouts. I did what they call the “Fit Test” which is a twenty- five minute workout you do every two weeks to see how many times you can do a specific workout in one minute.  If I were to get a grade for that test, it would be like a C. Anyways now we’ve moved on to the “Plyometric Cardio Circuit.” Those fancy words are code for harder workout. God. My legs were tired and every time I thought the workout was going to be over, he kept going! I was like “Fudge, fudge, fudge! Leave me the hell alone. I’ll just be fat… Fat people are happy, right?” Thank God for those water breaks or I’d be dead. It’s hard to get in shape people. So hard. But in other great news my thighs look slimmer. And I feel a little bit lighter, and little bit better when I walk up and down cases of stairs. So maybe “Insanity” is good for me.

In other news, yesterday I found out that Shaun T. (the trainer/ choreographer who created the Insanity workouts) has a workout called “Insanity: The Asylum.”

Uh- oh.



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This is my 327th post to my darling 104 followers…

Recently “Some Fabulous Chick’s Blog.” reached 100 followers! How exciting?! Now we have a total of 104 followers… Yay! Thank you so much for making this blog a success…

So obviously I need to post something special right? What should that be? Should I do a Q & A post, should I write about a specific topic… let me know, dolls! There’s more than 100 of you now, I know you have some fantastic ideas…

So give me some.

My new post… what should it be about?



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Sanity Check: Week 1

OK, so as you may have realized, with my recent picture post, I recently received the Insanity Workout. I will update you week by week with what is happening with the workout and evaluating if I am in fact insane for participating in the madness.


I am figuring out why they call it “insanity.” In addition to the fact that in the little book thingy that holds the DVDs (yes there are multiple DVDs), there are pictures that are really blurry and the picture is black and white, except for the person they’re focusing on (who’s in color) and looking at the picture alone makes me feel loony, the workout is really challenging. I’m doing what they named the “Not so crazy workout,” also called the warm up- the preparation for the actual Insanity workout- and I thought I was going to die. And it was only 30 minutes! My heart was like “wait… what? What are you trying to do to me?” And my body was all like “Huh? You want me to do what? Lunges? Aw hell naw…”

OMJ, y’all. OMG. And I have two months of this stuff left. When I’m done if I don’t have like abs and muscles (not the disgusting body builder type) and my butt  is not fantastic… I will be upset!

Until Week 2…



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And that makes everything worth it…

Yesterday, my grandmother, being her normal stubborn self wouldn’t get up and go to the dentist (this being her second time canceling) despite complaining about a tooth. I love my grandmomsypoo, but she needs to go the dentist. The health of your mouth can affect your heart. Anyway, I explained this to my grandmother half expecting her to yell at me afterwards, but no… guess what she said to me?

She said that she thought I was a kind, perfect person who seems like I don’t judge people. And that’s why she loves me.

See, its moments like that, when my grandmother says “I love you” first and genuinely, or other kind word that makes all the unpleasant moments (the accusations, the yelling, the stubbornness, the being flashed with ninety- year- old boobs) that makes it all worth it.

In  other news, I’m going to be in horse show and my teacher is confident that I’ll win a pretty ribbon.

‘Till next time…



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Yesterday, I was riding in the car with my mother when  I started screaming, hand over my heart, being hysterical. My mother started screaming too. She’d thought I had been shot. She was looking around for like an oncoming truck, a guy with a gun, a creep with no teeth and half a face to be standing next to the car trying to kill me. When she saw nothing, she looked around the car- and there was a spider on the dashboard. I watched my mother’s face go instantly from concerned mother to being ready to slap me. She got a newspaper hit the thing, it fell, and I rode the rest of the way home with my feet up looking around for the next spider and his friends.

So there I was, screaming like a crazy person over a spider. But it’s totally explainable.

See I am a girl. Not only that, I am a girly girl. Most of the time that goes hand and hand with the hate and dislike of spiders. There used to be a point in my life when I wouldn’t have even killed an ant. Now, I can sometimes kill a tiny spider. I’m doing so well aren’t I?

I’ve always been afraid/ had a disgust for spiders. I hate anything that crawls, well except babies. I hate spiders, centipedes, and overall the entire bug, and even some members of the over animal, community. They’re ugly and unnessary. Sorry God. Love You. Hate Your spiders.

I’m not sorry that I screamed my head off in that moment, even though I am sorry I scared my mother half to death. That’s the way I reacted. I’m sorry I’m not friggin’ Bindi and jumping off trees and holding thirty pound snakes and strangling alligators in the swamp. I’m sorry OK!

But I will work on my fear of spiders. Afraid of spiders too? Here’s a guide on how to overcome that fear, even though I think the whole bit with fake spiders is crap. But anyway, I’ll work on my arachnophobia if you work on yours!



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Epilepsy Walk 2013


noun /ˈepəˌlepsē/

  1. A neurological disorder marked by sudden recurrent episodes of sensory disturbance, loss of consciousness, or convulsions, associated with abnormal electrical activity in the brain

So today, I traveled to volunteer at an Epilepsy Foundation’s Epilepsy Walk… and it was amazing. I cheered and clapped and “You’re awesome”d and “You rock”ed my little heart out. It may have been more amazing if I’d actually ran in the walk/ run, but we’re getting there, right? Slowly, gradually will I work my way up to actually, really participating as a runner/ walker. This is  my second year participating and I love how I feel afterwards. I love when the participants give me high fives or thank me, like I’m the one running in the race but I guess it’s good that I’m there because I could’ve been at home listening to the Ceremonials album by Florence + The Machine that I just got that took me years to get and I never realized that I wanted it even though I’d been listening to the band’s amazing music for a long time and I still don’t know why it took me so long to get the album, but anyways… no, I was there helping in the face of a cause. I love when people who started the race running, walk by me and then I start cheering and they look at me and smile and start running again. I like watching the little people run- OMG it’s such a joy to see babies walking for a cause. I like feeling a part of something bigger than myself. I like helping with something that’s bigger than me. And more importantly I like feeling like I’m honoring the life of this boy that I knew named Jalil, who had epilepsy and accidentally shot himself with a gun he found in he and his parents’ home. When I woke up this morning, at 4: 30 AM mind you, I asked myself “Do I really want to go? Will it really be worth it?” and then I thought about Jalil and I forced myself to get the hell out of bed.

There were other highlights in my day like getting my hair sprayed purple (the color of the epilepsy ribbon) and my tattoo and listening to one of friends come up with chants. This is what they sounded like “P U R P L E! Lets do it for that epilepsy…” She’s so special. Right before she started the chant she bent down and then popped back up when runners would walk by, surprising the hell out of them. Did I mention she was special? Anyways, I also liked watching this little boy, who was wearing this stop my seizures today sticker, doing the Gangam style. He was sooo good. I should’ve videotaped it. I’ll get better with the visuals dolls and documenting more, for all of you to see. But overall I loved my day.

Maybe next year, you could do something in the name of epilepsy. Because, as a t-shirt I read today mentioned:

Epilepsy. Ain’t nobody got time for that!




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Me no habla espanol…

So today was the last day of both my classes in college. Yay! I’m so friggin’ happy. I have an A in Art and I have an A , and the highest score of all the students in any of my teacher’s classes, in English. Talented and smart. Mmmm… I’m just fabulous. Anyways, next semester I’m supposed to take a math class and a Spanish class. I’ve always wanted to learn Spanish as I am part Puerto Rican.

Now, the colleges want you take a placement test to take a language class, which I understand if you’re trying to get into Spanish 102, but not for 101. I mean I know absolutely no don’t know that much Spanish- that’s why I’m taking the class! So today I took the placement test and completely failed. I just randomly chose answers. I expected them to ask me how do you say good morning or ask for the names of colors. Not so, says the test maker. They decided that they would ask the questions in Spanish. Ugghh… I did horribly. I mean for the first time in my life I did genuinely horrible on a test. And you want to know how long it took me to complete this test? Two minutes. God. I just wanted to burst out laughing when I walked out of the testing area. I had to print my results and I just knew the man who retrieved the results was like “Damn.”

Pray for me. Pray that Spanish and I mix wonderfully and I do muy bien in this class. (See… I know a little something, something)

But overall, me no habla espanol, y’all. Me no habla espanol…




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You think you’re better than me. Don’t you?

I hate that question.

I hate when people accuse me of being conceited or vain or self- centered, you know? All implications that somehow I think I’m better than somebody else.

And you know what’s worse? My own mother asked me that very question that I hate.

You know when I was completely geeky and insecure and didn’t like myself enough to dress like I gave a crap about how I looked, no one ever asked me “do you think you’re better than me?” No one accused me of being conceited or self- centered. But the second that I put away those Mary Kate & Ashley Olsen glasses, got an ounce of confidence, and some insight into the wonderful, successful life that I wanted (and still want) then comes the accusations of conceit and self- centered- ness, etc. I’m telling you, I never got that when I was Miss Hiding Behind My Glasses. But now? Oh, the second this boy liked me, my friends told me I was self- centered. I’m looking in the mirror and some boy accuses me of being conceited. It takes me a little longer to get ready in the morning because I have this mental complex that if I don’t brush my teeth twice, my mouth isn’t clean, so I’m vain. Gosh. Thank you people. Thank you so much  for you wonderful compliments. I really want to this be vain, self- centered, and conceited person. But you could be thinking, “well with your make- over and new found confidence, maybe you did start to think differently about other people.” (Buzzer goes off) Eh. Wrong. I have never looked at someone and thought that I was better than them. I have never judged someone based on how pretty they were.

So, I’m taking an art class right, and we have this self- portrait due. And let me tell you that drawing yourself is really hard and frustrating. It’s a lot more pressure because it’s your face and it would really be a damn shame if you couldn’t draw your own face. For the first time in my life, in doing this project, I am tired of my own face. Anyway, I was working on the project in the living room and my wide range of pencils and art supplies are on the floor (which is carpet, but I don’t think I’ve ever stained with my art supplies). Apparently, my mother has asked me not to do that which I don’t remember, but I could see why and how that is possible. So my mother gets upset with me and demands that I get my pencils and clean up her living room (notice I mentioned that she said her). And she tells me that I’m disrespectful- that I’m disrespectful to her and her things, as I’d forgotten to use a coaster some days before. OK. I can work on that. But then she asks me “Do you think that you’re better than me?”

Whoa. Shock. Pain. Hurt. Confusion.

Ummm… Mother Dearest: how is this possible? I have no job. You make more money than I do. Just in case you didn’t know that.

But no… she informs me that as I know and she knows that I will be successful, do I disrespect her things because they aren’t super expensive or designer, etc. as I expect and know I will have in my own home?



Why would I think that I’m better than the woman who exposed me to the life that I want?

That made me feel horrible. I don’t think that I’m better than anybody. I don’t understand how she could think that. I’ve never felt that way about anybody let alone with my own mother. And I haven’t even gotten to where I’m going and she’s already accusing me of such things.

Huh. I don’t get it. I’m hurt. But you know what I will work on myself. I will work so it’s impossible for someone to accuse me of such things. I’m going to work on getting these insides into shape.

So here’s how I’m going to start: I have this list of the characteristics of God and I’m going to express that attribute for the day. Sounds good? OK.

Yesterdays attribute was being mighty.

Today’s attribute is being a protector.




a person or thing that protects; defender; guardian.

So today protect your morals, values, etc. Protect yourself from negativity, and maybe even protect someone else from these things as well.

Start working on them insides people. Getting that heart and soul into shape. I am.



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Metamorphosis, Miscellaneous is getting all kinds of political…

I’m so happy that this semester is almost over! Thank God!

We all know that America is about 17 trillion dollars in debt, right? Well she continues to hand out loans (93% of loans to be exact) that add up to about one trillion dollars. Unlike any other loans, student loans are very easy to get because most students, when they’re coming out of high school, are unemployed and have never taken out a loan before and have no credit history. So how can the government decide whether or not you’ll pay back your loans? For my final exam in English I had to write an essay about whether or not I support the government evaluating the size of the loan they give you based upon your g.p.a. in high school, your major, and the ranking of the college you plan to attend which they think should determine whether or not you’ll be employed, how much money you’ll make, etc. Using this assessment, someone with STEM major (science technology engineering mathematics) at MIT would have a higher scoring evaluation and receive a bigger loan compared to someone with a religious studies major at a lesser ranked school. I wrote about how I didn’t support this and how it was unfair, because those factors don’t necessarily dictate your success. And what about all of us creative people? We’re supposed to be bums on the street?! I also wrote about how subliminally, the government is trying to control our lives and the career paths that we take with this suggested evaluation. It almost forces you to choose fields related to and involving math, science, etc. to receive funding for your education. You should be able to choose your own destiny and what you want to do. You should make your own choices, be OK with your actions, because it’s your life and you should live it your way with no regrets. If you make mistakes, it is your mistake to make.

How do you feel about this? Do you have any better suggestions when it comes to the government handing out student loans in the face of this economic crisis? Metamorphosis, Miscellaneous is getting all kinds of political here and I want your opinion! Let me know.



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My grandmother is a hot mess…

… before and after Alzheimer’s and if I didn’t believe it before, I believe it now.

So I told you about my grandmother’s sweet escape yesterday right? She just walked out of the front door of the house that she and her husband have been living in for forty something years and told my grandfather that she was going to her real home. She just unlocked the door and walked out. Now my grandfather had a stroke  many years ago, and ever since then he hasn’t been able to talk the same or move the same, so he couldn’t walk, let alone run, after her. He couldn’t get her back in the house so he called the police and then he called my mother. My mother rushed over there as soon as she found out. Turns out that my grandmother had walked down the street and somehow fell. She busted her chin (and needed stitches) and  scratched on her forehead, nose, and left cheek. I’m guessing she fell trying to run away when the police started chasing her or something because a nurse told me that a police officer had to chase her down. My eighty- something- year- old grandmother probably knocked the wind out of somebody who was probably half her age or younger and is trained to chase after people. Anyway, the ambulance came because she’d needed one, as I imagined she was pretty bloody. After she was in the ambulance, my mother had just arrived and wanted to see her before the ambulance drove her away, and my grandmother is screaming “That’s my daughter!” As soon as they open the doors and are about to let my mother in, my grandmother sees my mother carrying her own purse and asks “Is that my purse?” because she has this obsession with her purse and someone stealing her purse (which someone has never done) and carries it around all the time even in her own home (she puts it on the counter next to her while she washes up). Now mind you, she’s battered and bruised and is caring about her purse. Interesting. Anyway, fast forward some hours when my mother calls my grandparents’ home and no one answers, so she’s freaking out because my grandfather is there and isn’t answering which could’ve meant that he was getting up to try and look for my grandmother and fell, as he has multiple times, and couldn’t get up. So my father drives me over to my grandparents’ house to find my grandfather just sitting in the living room, as normal as ever, watching the news. He listens to the TV really loudly and just couldn’t hear the phone. So then we get a call form my mother asking us to come pick her up as she has left her car in front of my grandparents’ home and took the ambulance with my grandmother to the hospital where she was being treated. So, we left, kisses to the grandfather, and then we drove to the hospital and before then, I’d been told by my father that I was going to wait in the hospital with my grandmother while my parents drove to go get my mother’s car. Turns out that wasn’t the plan. I should’ve known better; men, they’re never listening. Anyway, I wait with my grandma anyway in the emergency room and she’s got bruises all over her pretty face with this giant bandage on her chin and has blood on the top of her hospital gown. I felt so badly for her. “Here’s your granddaughter,” my mother said and then my grandmother smiled and said “Ohhh…” My mother left and I just sat there with my grandmother watching The Late Show with David Letterman on this tiny TV. And then she says she’s cold, so I go ask for a blanket, and then my grandmother says she isn’t cold, but when they bring her the blanket and put it on the bed, she says “Oh that’s better” which indicates that she was in fact, cold. Then, the nurse comes over and tells my grandmother that she’s going to give her a tetanus shot because the doctor told her to give my grandmother one. Tetanus shots are supposed to prevent tetanus, or lock jaw, that could happen to you if a certain bacteria enters your body through cuts and bruises, as my grandmother had. The nurse tries to explain some of the this to grandma and she goes “I don’t have any cuts,” and the nurse looks at me and is like amazed and asks my grandmother “You don’t have any cuts? I thought you fell…” Then my grandmother says “Oh yeah I did fall.” But that realization changes nothing. My grandmother ,  being as stubborn as she is often for no reason, says she may be allergic to it having just told the nurse that she wasn’t allergic to anything as far as she knew. Then, she later changes it to “I’m allergic to tetanus shots” and turns around and winks at me. She informs her nurse that she needs to speak with her doctor and she’ll think about having the shot. When the nurse says “Well I’m going to give you the shot now” my grandmother screams “Nooooo!” like a child. So the nurse says offers my grandmother that she’ll talk to her daughter (my mother) and ask her about my grandmother getting the shot. A little while later, my mother shows up and the nurse comes over to talk to her about the tetanus shot. My mother tries to tell my grandmother that she had to get one because she’d slammed her finger in the door and you get the shot for your own safety and that it won’t hurt her. Then, the nurse tries to give my grandmother the shot, and while doing so my mother is trying to take me to the exit, where my father is waiting for me to get in his car and drop me off at home. I decide we should wait until the nurse gives grandma the shot, because we don’t want the nurse to get beat up. She hears that and genuinely thanks me, as I’m sure she realizes, my grandmother would’ve probably beat her up. (I learned that people with Alzheimer’s have this like super strength. I guess God was like, well  if you’re going to lose your mind I’ll give you super strength so you can at least defend yourself if someone’s trying to harm you. Thanks God. That was a smart idea.) She gives my grandma the shot and then I leave.

Later, as my mother was trying to coax my grandmother to get in her car so she could drive her home , it involved some other people. This is how high maintenance my grandmother is. Getting my grandmother into the car involved:

  1. my mother
  2. my grandfather
  3. a doctor
  4. a nurse
  5. a second nurse
  6. a security guard
  7. a second security guard
  8. a janitor/ maintenance man

Even with these people it still took 45 minutes. She thought it was all a  part of some sort of evil plan and everyone was in on it.

My grandmother eventually did get in the car and my mother drove her home, where she is probably driving my grandfather up a wall and planning her next escape. For my grandmother is no ordinary old woman, she’s worse, but I still  love her so.

Do you have a story about your own grandparents? Share it in the comments.

Until the next adventure in grandma wackiness…



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I’m learning that confidence…

I’m learning that confidence is easier preached than done. Lady Lightning helped teach me that today when I was saddling her and we had to jump today. First, I was saddling her and she doesn’t like being saddled, so she bites the air to kind of scare you or just tell you that she does not want to be saddled. It freaked me out. I’m thinking: what is she doing? Is she like threatening to bite me? Second we were jumping today. Not just over poles on the ground but these were poles actually propped up in the shape of an X. Lady kept going to the poles and then going around the poles because I was leading her to them, but I wasn’t confident that I could do it in my heart and she sensed it, so being the intuitive horse that Lady is, she didn’t jump. That was until my teacher had me to make myself make Lady Lightning jump over the poles.

I was just all off today. I missed class last week and when I miss by even one day, I come back and my confidence isn’t the same.

Confidence is easier preached than it is practiced… I have to work on that.

Work on believing in yourself in being confident dolls! When you conquer yourself, you can conquer the world.



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Things will be O.K. Change is good. Progress is necessary.

Moving on can be scary.

I remember when I was in 6th grade. I was a really good student and always went above and beyond for assignments, especially projects (and I’m pretty sure I had no life) and I’d been offered a promotion- to move from sixth grade to seventh sometime around halfway through the year. I was not excited at all. I was scared to death. Of course I knew the people who were in the seventh grade, but I had no friends in the seventh grade. Would the work be really hard? What would my “friends” think of my promotion? Would I lose them? These were all of the thoughts swirling through my head when I was thinking about the possibility of promotion. I wanted to say no. I was comfortable where I was, I was good where I was. But my mother had other ideas. This was a chance for me to move on up. I was a good student and I’d worked hard. I deserved this promotion. That’s what she said. What she really meant was “You’re going to take this promotion.” I never wanted to take the promotion. Of course it shook my classmates a little bit (I really don’t even remember if I had real friends in sixth grade. I’ve come a long way from where I was then). I think they wondered why I got the promotion and they didn’t. I don’t know if they were envious or jealous. I remember on one of my projects, I’d forgotten that Earth has a moon and they were quick to point it out. I remember some of them saying ” you aren’t graduating with us,” and sometimes it wasn’t out of sadness or missing me or wanting me to participate in graduating with them as we’d thought I would be. I don’t know if any of them were ever happy for me. But I was happier after I’d done it. I’ve always been a little more mature for my age, so I fit in. I got new friends (and one of them is one of my closest and my fabulous partner in shopping) and started carrying purses (the re- sparking of the fabulous in me). I think I got a little bit of confidence, too. And I’m glad I shaved off that extra year of high school. It was the scariest thing for me believe it or not, to leave 6th grade, but I’m so happy I made this decision this decision was made for me and I accepted it. It was good for me.

And now I’m about to go to college.

I’m doing something called “dual enrollment” where I’m taking classes at a community college while in high school. I go to my high school one  day a week. I’d never feel like a stranger in my high school or like a didn’t belong, but I do feel like I’m ready to move on. And then I talk to my friends and there’s a lot more going on at that school than meets the eye, and I feel like things are different. And they are. I’m going to go away to college soon and my some of my other friends will still be there in high school. That’s scary as hell. I’m leaving people that I’ve not only grown up with, but have known for years and they know me, and I’ve grown to love these people. And I’m leaving them for a new beginning. In the hopes that I’ll make new friends, learn more about the field that I love, expand my mind, create a new or better me, do some kind of soul searching, and begin the life that I want. It’s like I’m holding on to the piece of a rope in one hand and that rope is something that I’ve been holding onto for so long but now I’m reaching for this new rope, the one that I’ve been waiting for, the one that’ll take me to a new place, and it’s scary to wonder if I’ll let go of that other rope. And I think it’s scary for my friends too. I know it was a  little scary for me to watch my older friends go off to college. But you know what? I have faith. I believe in a little bit of magic. I know that I’ll make friends in college. I believe in the career path that I’ve chosen and that chose me. I believe in myself. I believe in God. I have faith that when I make this jump and I take this leap, even though I’ll be far away from home, that I’ll  find some solid ground and learn how to fly. I believe. I’m a little scared. I’m a little worried, but I have faith that everything will be okay. I, and we, have to know that things will be alright and that change is good and that progress is necessary.

Live your life. Progress, don’t be scared. Moving on- no, moving forward- can be a beautiful thing.



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Poll: I want to know…


Yes that is real. I wouldn’t want my diamond that big- it almost becomes gaudy. But I appreciate the thought behind this ring. And that thought is BIG!!!

… how my dolls feel about big diamonds on their engagement rings.

I went to school today and we had a debate/ negotiate seminar with this woman who’s a lawyer. I noticed that her engagement ring (which I assume it was) was extremely small. It was smaller than a tiny pea. Maybe even a little smaller. I was shocked. I just kept staring at it. I couldn’t help it. Now I can’t imagine her with a sizable diamond on her engagement ring just because I think with her personality, she would feel it’s a little too “showy.” However, I don’t have that problem. I want an engagement ring with a huge diamond. In fact, I want my fiancee to design the engagement ring instead of purchasing it from a store. I think it’ll show that he has an understanding of my taste: tasteful  extravagant, a little simplistic. I’ve actually planned my engagement ring already. It’ll be a nice sized pear, cushion, oval cut “Golden Eye” diamond a.k.a. a yellow diamond, which is one the rarest and most expensive diamonds in the world found only in Africa. If it’s pear or oval cut shaped it’ll be diamonds smaller white diamonds on the white gold band. I hate yellow gold. If it’s cushion cut it’ll  be surrounded by smaller white diamonds and have while diamonds on the band. I’m thinking about the band possibly being platinum or  adding a drop of rose gold. And I want the all diamond $70 million ring on my diamond anniversary (What? It’ll have been 75 years). Anyway, in addition to the fact that I’m such a primadonna/ Queen/ diva, I plan to be successful. Now why would a primadonna/ Queen/ diva want a tiny diamond on her engagement ring? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not completely vain. I know that a big diamond doesn’t equal big love. I’m not a gold digger, but I do want I financially successful husband. I want him (and myself) to be able to provide for our children and give them things that I dream about and didn’t have growing up.

But can I  help that I want a big diamond on my engagement ring? I’m one of those girls who’s been dreaming about having a big diamond ring and a big, fancy wedding since as long as I can remember. But the difference between me and a lot of other girls is that I also dream about a life-long partner. A man who’ll meet me at the altar, and keep meeting me there to renew our vows and celebrate the beautiful memories, experiences, children, love, etc. that we’ve shared.

So now I want to know… what do you think about big diamonds on your own engagement ring? Let me know. Take the poll:

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When you fall on a horse…

… get up and try try again.


OK, so you all know that I love horseback riding and that my favorite horse is named Lady Lighting. I’m really happy in my class and we’re advancing pretty quickly now. And we’re jumping now. Yay! Last week was when we started jumping and we’re starting on a really basic level by just jumping over poles placed on the ground. It was really fun especially when we started cantering and Lady Lighting jumped over the poles (they were placed on some kind of block,but she and I really weren’t supposed to be jumping while cantering. Oops!). Anyway it was all fun until last Friday, when we were trotting and were supposed to jump over some more poles. Well, Lady Lightning is a little lazy sometimes and I didn’t get her trotting at a pace that was fast enough for her to be trotting over the poles and she fell. My heart had like… sank. But luckily I’m okay because she didn’t fall off to the side, she stumbled forward and I didn’t fall face first into horse poo. I never fell off her back. And Lady Lightning , being the champ that she, wasted no time getting back up and kept going. ‘Cause she’s Lady Lighting and she’s amazing. And like every brave cowgirl before me, I couldn’t let one stumble shake me or stop me. ‘Cause I’m Maryam and I’m amazing, too!

So never give up people! Keep going even if you fall down… There’s nothing wrong with a little stumble, as long you can recover from it!

Tell me about the time you’ve falling on a horse or just a time when you had to dust yourself off and get back up. Let me know in the comments!



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Have you ever had a really weird, pervy statement made to you?

All my beautiful ladies out there… have you ever had a really weird, pervy statement made to you?

Today this man asked me was I this other man’s daughter. And the man responded with “Daughter…  how about girlfriend?” Now you might think, hey that’s kind of unasked for, but not weird. Get this. This man is like fifty. Now I’m way younger than 50. Give or take thirty or so years. And he has children, he’s on crutches, and he’s a little eccentric. He blinks way more than the average person and this is about his third time saying something really weird. But this particular incident freaked me out so much that I couldn’t concentrate during my tutoring session today. It didn’t help that in English today we watched a documentary about the journey of these women and men trying to get justice from the courts for the times that they’d been raped and molested by priests. So overall, to the man who said that: NEVER. EVER. EVER. You have freaked me out and I never want to speak to you again. Congratulations, you have really weird-ed me out. Thanks to you and that documentary from earlier today, for my entire math tutoring session I felt like this:


So how many of you beautiful ladies have had an awkward or weird conversation with a man or have had some awkward comment made towards you? Let me know… we can be totally weird- ed out together…



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My Schizophrenic Uncle…



noun /ˌskitsəˈfrēnēə/  /-ˈfrenēə/

  • A long-term mental disorder of a type involving a breakdown in the relation between thought, emotion, and behavior, leading to faulty perception, inappropriate actions and feelings, withdrawal from reality and personal relationships into fantasy and delusion, and a sense of mental fragmentation
  • any of several psychotic disorders characterized by distortions of reality and disturbances of thought and language and withdrawal from social contact

I have an uncle who suffers from  schizophrenia. He had a wife and two children (I say had because he’s hurt them so much and they probably felt neglected; it would be a long path to forgiveness and acceptance). He had medicine and didn’t take it. He’d lived my grandparents for a little while,  but was cursing them out, destroying their property, stealing from them, etc. and had to leave. He was even in a mental institution for a little while. But was never put back after a hospital evaluation in which he was asked “Do you want to hurt yourself or anyone else?” and he replied “no” (ridiculousness when it was obvious that he was mentally ill). And now he’s homeless. The sad thing is that he’s really intelligent. He can play multiple instruments, graduated from two colleges, and has played music all over the world. But now he’s homeless and off of his medication and out there to possibly hurt others and/or himself. I just realized that we’ll probably never hear from him or see him again. Until one day we get a call from the police, asking if this man with no money, no home, seemingly no family, and a failed mental health, who they found dead in some alley way or on the street, resembles my uncle…

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The Feminist movement…

I’m writing a paper on the difference between misandry and feminism. And learning a lot of things.

Did you know that:

  • Women perform 66% of the world’s work, but receive only 11% of the world’s income
  • women own only 1% of the world’s land
  • Women account for 55% of all college students, but even when women have equal years of education it doesn’t translate into economic and political power, as it does with men.
  • In government, there are 190 heads of state and only nine of them are women.
  • Out of all the people in the Parliament only 13% are women.
  • In the corporate world, of the C-level jobs and board seats, only 15- 16 of them are women.

And that women:

  • couldn’t get an education
  • couldn’t work
  • couldn’t sign their own contracts
  • couldn’t get custody of their own children in the case of divorce
  • couldn’t keep control over their own property and wages when they got married
  • and couldn’t do much more because it was “unfeminine”

So even though I won’t exactly be burning my bra anytime soon, I’m starting to admire the feminist movement. They made a lot of noise. And have helped make progress. So even though I don’t consider myself a feminist, I’m all for being able to chose abortion in the case of rape, equal wages, equal rights, and the ability to choose what happens with your body in the case of marriage. Hey? The woo- hoo is in between my legs, I get to control the cookie, mister! But I’m not worried. I’m confident that we will one day live in a world that women will have fifty percent of the work in everything. Because women can do just as much work and the same work as a man does. Hell, we can even do it better sometimes. And “Sure God created man before woman.  But then you always make a rough draft before the final masterpiece.” I know that I’m a woman and I can do anything I set my mind to. And don’t have to use my vajay-jay to get it. I have things like intelligence, talent, and a God- given will. So I’m all set.

Hello! My name is “Some Fabulous Chick” and even though I’m not a feminist, I know I have the ability to run the world. ‘Cause damn it .. I’m a woman! And I just got it like that.



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Pudgy horses are mean…

Let me begin by introducing you to “Pudge;” a fat, blue eyed, blonde haired, Barbie- looking/ over-tanned surfer dude looking male horse who’s set on making sure other horses, and sometimes people, know their place.

I went horseback riding on Friday (as I have been for about a year now) and me and four other riders, along with my teacher, went on a trail ride. We walked through a forest and it was absolutely beautiful. It was perfect except for one thing, well two things: the bugs and the giant horse I was on, Pudge, that kept giving dirty looks to Libby, the horse behind us. See horses live in a hierarchy. As soon as they see you they make a decision of whether or not you’re above or below them. The horses that are above kick and abuse the horses that are below them until they learn their place. Isn’t that horrible? And I love horses. I thought they were only dangerous when they were being mistreated, threatened, or just spooked. I know they’re huge animals, but they have huge hearts too. And I’ve always loved horses, but specifically wild horses, because they’re beautiful, majestic creatures and they’re free. But now I know that they’re all that, and a little high maintenance. This relates because Pudge is above the five other horses that were on the trail with us. So, anyway, throughout the entire trail Pudge kept insinuating to Libby that she’d better not get in front of him and she’d better learn her place. And Pudge kept trying to get in front of the horse my teacher was on. And then at a sudden stop during the trail, Pudge turned around and was about to like attack Libby. Crazy. Crazy horse. I bet you there’s a horse above Pudge too. He wouldn’t like it if some horse was threatening him. And he almost took my fingers off when I tried to feed him a peppermint! See, I’m sticking with my Lady Lighting. She’s gorgeous, mild mannered, and amazing and I trust her. Too bad she’s not a trail horse because my trail ride would’ve gone a lot smother.

But I still love my horses.

I’m loving my horseback riding. I love being one with a horse and riding is fun! And I’m learning things like horses don’t like different. They’re afraid of different. I can relate some of what I learn about horses, like fearing change and what’s different in life, to us as humans.

Have you ever been horseback riding? What do you love about it? How does it make you feel?  Tell me about your own experiences with a crazy horse…



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Mirror mirror on the wall…

who’s the youngest looking and most beautiful of them all?

We live in a vain society. We care way to much about criticizing ourselves and “enhancing” our beauty. But could you believe that that not only effects our generation but generations prior? Specifically my grandmother’s.

My grandmother was born beautiful. Her mother was Black and Native American. Her father was Caucasian and Puerto Rican. She’s “light skinned” with gorgeous black hair (that she dyed to red and then to a kind of strawberry blonde), and these brown eyes that are rimmed with blue. She once had very full lips. Overall she’s aged relatively well. But my grandmother has a problem: she’s relied too much on her beauty. She’s beautiful, but my grandmother is mean. She talks about you even to your face and after years of showing her affection, that you love her will always be there for her, and will be patient and kind to her, she’s still never satisfied and will treat you like crap. And she does this to everyone; her children, grandchildren, friends, and her husband, the only man who is patient enough to love her and stand by her even through her insane accusations, bipolar personality, etc.  All of my grandmother’s life people have dismissed her horrible actions because she’s pretty. My mother and I have this theory that she was one of the popular girls in high school and because she was pretty and popular and people wanted to be her friend, they enabled her to do and say whatever she wanted to them by dismissing and ignoring her actions. Anyways, because my grandmother is used to relying on her looks, she never wants to admit how old she is and she doesn’t like being older. She looks in the mirror and refuses to accept her age and how she looks. You could say its the Alzheimer’s that she suffers from. But she didn’t have Alzheimer’s when she told her first generation of grandchildren that they couldn’t call her grandma and to call her “Mama Brooks” and she sure as hell didn’t have Alzheimer’s when she insisted upon putting 4, 5, and 6 numbered candles on her birthday cakes. And she’s been lying about her birthday for decades. According to the government, her real birthday is actually several months earlier than her declared birthday. It’s insane. And we don’t even know how old she is. She’s so desperate to be young and to stay beautiful that she wants to deny reality. She doesn’t want to accept that she is getting older. Don’t get me wrong I love my grandmother to infinity and beyond. I love her wit, brutal honesty, and the fact that she’s still a fabulous glamourma. But I sort of pity her because if it wasn’t for the fact that the people around her loved her, we’d all leave her. Because her personality sometimes sucks. Our love is never enough for her. And all the beauty in the would can’t help that problem. And the other thing is that I bet if someone offered her a trip back in time to be young and more young and “beautiful” she would take it. I think she’d trade having her seven children, her beautiful, wonderful grandchildren, finding the kindest most wonderful man in the universe, and living a full life to be young and pretty again.

But me? I’m going to enjoy my old age. I’m going to bake and tell stories to my grandchildren. And enjoy watching my children grow up. And I’m going to love the experiences and the journeys that I’d have taken to get to wherever I’ll be in life. The more wrinkles, the wiser I am. Wisdom is sexy. I’m going to make a life for myself, that is worth living and worth enjoying even when I’m old. And besides, the older I get the more shoes I’ll have.



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Being a good girl…

Excuse me while I have a tiny rant…

I think I’m going to stop calling myself a good girl. I mean I’m a virgin. So according to religion, I’m biologically a good girl. But would I be a good girl if I were a horrible person?

They say that good girls are the ones that don’t get caught. I’m starting to believe that…

So I am no longer a “good girl.” I’m just a girl trying to figure herself and the world around her out, and who is positive she will survive, alive, well, and with her dreams accomplished.



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We’re only human…

Somebody told me yesterday that I was perfect.

Today I did something that a perfect girl wouldn’t do.

I think part of the requirement to be human, to remain human, is to be  imperfect. To be embarrassed, embarrassing, flawed, to be different in our own ways. No one is perfect. No one is flawless. So why not just take all those imperfections and flaws and “bathe in them?” To just accept them and show people, and yourself, hey this was me then and this is me now. Accept it or leave me the hell alone. So in the spirit of growing up, moving on, and moving up, I’m going to embrace my flaws and what makes me different from everybody else. And I refuse to accept perfection as one of my best qualities. Because it’s not. And in this stage of metamorphosis, and development, I can’t go believing things like that.

The more that I accept that I’m not perfect, and that I’ve done wrong, both to myself and others, that’s when I begin to  understand myself, to better myself, become selfless and an even more beautiful person and help others do the same.

What are you accepting about yourself today? What are you going to today to become a better person?



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Making decisions… and other things…

Deciding on a college is hard.

I’ve been accepted into five out of the six colleges that I’ve applied to. Every single one of the schools that I’ve been accepted to have good interior design programs. Two of them are in Chicago, downtown. Another  is in Michigan, Georgia, and then New York. I want to leave to go away to college because I feel like I’ll have more opportunity to grow and “find myself” and just be free (without parents breathing down my neck). And the colleges that are out of state are offering more money. And two of the colleges that are out of state have more acclaimed interior design programs and have been recognized as having both number one undergraduate and graduate programs. But I want seasons. I want to be able to wear my gorgeous faux fur coat and my new Guess coat. I don’t like the cold, but I love being able to change my wardrobe from ready for the winters to ready for the rays. In addition, I plan to pursue a fashion career in about a decade or so and I want to be able to go back to the school that I attended for interior design. One of the colleges doesn’t have a fashion major.

And then it’s like… I want to go to New York, but New York has high crime rates, but then again it’s such a fabulous city. You could meet anyone in New York and it could change your life (And I’m watching the Carrie Diaries, and you know how much I love Carrie Bradshaw, and she’s making me fall in love with New York all over again). On the other hand with the college in Georgia, I have family that’s four to six hours hours away which is closer to family than I’d be in New York (I do have a cousin who’s a fashion designer and lives in the city of the school I’ve been accepted to, but he’s sort of stranded from my family), I’ve been told it’s a beautiful campus and in a beautiful city, they have a ginormous fashion show and film festival that designers and celebrities attend, and I’ve just been informed that they do have designer stores down there (now all I have to figure out is how far is the best dry cleaners, find a good beautician, and a Whole Foods). And then yesterday I went to a reception for accepted students and they fed me good falafel and I drank sparkling water and Vitamin Water. Do you know how hard it is to go to events that have good vegetarian options? And I love sparkling water and Vitamin Water. And I got to meet other students and staff members  and I found out that they have an equestrian team (and I so love horses) and that majority of their meal plan is geared towards vegetarians and vegans (I’m a vegetarian). Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…. this is hard. Mentally I’m being pulled in multiple directions. Huhhh…. and I still haven’t gotten the envelope from the school in New York telling me how much money their going to offer nor have I visited the campuses that are out of state (even though I plan to). Ugh, God. These young adult decisions, I’ll tell you they’re a pain in the buns. But I know I’m going to make the right decision for me. I’m going to give myself a deadline to make the decision and then I just may post it on this blog.

Tell me about having to make your own tough decisions. And give me advice and tips on how you narrowed down and picked your own college. Let me know in the comments, I’d really appreciate it.



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Everything is forgivable…

R and C

One of the most controversial celebrities is Ms. Barbados herself: Rihanna. She tweets pictures of herself smoking weed, sings sex lyrics like “he want that cake… he want to lick the icing off,” walks around in see-though shirts with no bra on,  then tweets Bible scriptures, and says she has no intention nor cares about being a role model. But her most controversial move was getting back together with the man who left her bloody, bruised, confused, and broken: Chris Brown.

I’ve always wondered about her relationship with Chris Brown, but I mostly wondered why the hell she wouldn’t sue his butt in court, have all the male members in her family beat him to a pulp like he did to her, and , overall, make him pay for what he did to her. Mostly I wondered why this woman wouldn’t get her revenge and yell and scream at him from the mountain tops “look at what you did me” and “look in the mirror at yourself to see what a cowardly monster you are to dare hit a woman”- “I thought you loved me?” (I also wondered if all that crying he did at the 2010 BET Awards was real and if he really looked at himself in a metaphorical mirror and realized he needed to make some serious character changes. I wanted to believe those were real tears but I don’t know… they make products for that now.) And when you watch the interviews Rihanna has done , especially with Oprah, she’s just worried about him, his career, and how he’s being treated and not her own physical and psychological well-being. It’s almost sickening. I understand that she thinks she loves him, but you wonder how a man who really loves you, who watched his own mother being abused by his step father, would dare inflict that pain on another woman. And then you wonder how Rihanna could get back together with him right after he’d beat her (remember he was sending her all those extravagant gifts thinking that things would make her forgive him- they’d gotten back together like right after the incident) and then get back together with him again years later. So I did what almost any girl would do and I asked one of the wisest women that I know what she thought about the situation: my mother…

And she told me that everything is forgivable. Whoa.  Mind- blowing moment. I’d never thought about that. She said that we live in a crazy world and people act out what they see in their environment or what they’ve experienced. For example, a child molester was probably molested himself/ herself/ and , as I mentioned before, Chris Brown lived in a home in which his stepfather was abusing his mother. But my mother also said that circumstance and surroundings are never an excuse because you don’t have to be a product of your surroundings and there is such a thing as breaking the cycle. And she said the most shocking thing ever: that maybe it’s meant for Rihanna and Chris Brown to be together and maybe it is possible for Rihanna to forgive Chris and get past what happened in 2009, if she isn’t over it already.

So I don’t know. I do believe that you can choose to forgive someone for anything even if it is morally corrupt or has caused physical or psychological damage to you or someone you love. Rihanna looks happy and Chris Brown says that he realizes that she’s the most beautiful girl in the world and that he made the biggest mistake of his life by beating her. Rihanna says that if he ever did it again she would do what the world had been begging her to do in the first place: walk way… forever. So I don’t know. I just hope he never hits her again, because even though I do question a lot of the decisions Rihanna makes and I’m not her biggest fan, I am a female and I know that we’re not always as tough as we want to be and I know what pain is and don’t want her to go though that again. So maybe Rih Rih is happy and I should be happy for her.

But what I do know and can tell you is that is a man who ever tried to hit me, he’d either be dead the next day and floating face down in a river or I’d make his life a living hell. And I know, because my mother told me, that if a man ever hit me she’d kill him herself. But then again, I don’t think I’d attract that kind of man, because he’d realize “I can’t mess with her. She and her family are crazy as hell.”



P.S. Do remember that real love is not violent!!! And if someone really loves you they do not want to inflict pain on you or in your life, even unconsciously.

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Exercising… and other things…

Getting in shape is hard. It’s hard to motivate yourself, it’s hard not to have that other cookie, it’s hard to get off your butt and start moving.

OK, so I subscribe to Tia & Tamera’s website because I just love them. I love watching them… I want to be their triplet. They’re just beautiful, with beautiful children, and, it seems, good husbands. I’m so proud to say that I’ve watched them grow up into the successful businesswomen, actresses, and mothers that they are. So recently I got a post from their website written by Tia called “Move-it Monday: How to Stay Motivated.” Girl, how about getting motivated? I mean, there was one point when I was exercising everyday for about six months. I stopped eating ice cream, my comforting best friend and enemy, and switched to fruit juice popsicles  and Caio Bella sorbet. I stopped drinking whole milk and starting drinking one percent milk, (even though my doctor thought I should drink skim milk but it was like drinking water). I was eating less, and when other people would have cookies, chips, etc., I wouldn’t eat any or I’d literally only have one and be okay with it, and I was drinking about seven cups of water each day. I felt better, my stomach was flatter, I looked better, and I’d lost 12 pounds. I was doing so well, and then something just happened. It stopped all of a sudden. I mean I still don’t eat ice-cream, I still drink 1% milk and seven cups of water each day, and I don’t eat as much as I used to (I’d like to think), but now my exercise spurts only last a about a few days and I don’t get another one until months later. And it’s hard to motivate yourself for health reasons. What normally happens is that I see some super in shape person and think “I have to start exercising again.” I want to be in shape. I don’t want to lose weight as much as I want to tone ,because, how do I say this… “baby got back.” Thanks to genetics I have a big butt, big thighs, and big legs. Don’t get me wrong, I love my curvaliciousness. I remember trying on this super fitted “going to the Emmy Awards” type of prom dress and I remember all the employees standing around smiling and looking at me. I love my hourglass figure… if I woke up tomorrow morning with a slimmer body type I’d probably cry… but I want to be curvalicous and in shape.

So… well I ran on the treadmill yesterday and I felt good and glowed a little bit afterwards (because divas and queens don’t sweat… they glow). So let’s hope (and maybe pray) that this is the beginning of a beautiful journey to exercising everyday and being healthier. Pilates, yoga, Tae Bo, and treadmill… get ready ’cause here I come…

So what are your ways to motivate yourself to exercise? Do you have any exercise regimens for me? Will you work out and eat healthier with me? Let me know in the comments!



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Thoughts… on Dat “Baby Mama” Drama

Like the title? Yep.  I thought so… =)

So in my life there has been a lot of “baby mama” drama. Not for me personally. Oh hell no… I will never be personally experiencing that, but that’s a whole other subject.

See, recently my cousin who’s around sixteen-years-old had a beautiful baby girl. These other two girls that I know, in relation, both had babies, too. I have a friend who has sisters who two of their friends have babies. I have a sort of “buddy” in my art class who is also a baby mama. And I had a mid term examination today where the topic I had to write about was people’s refusal to get married (an obvious choice from the three topics we were given which included  marijuana- which I really know almost nothing about- and “Messiah complexes”), them not believing in marriage, and the effects on our larger society- hence unwed people having sex, then unexpected pregnancies resulting in our abundance of “baby mamas”.  So… I’m being surrounded by a lot of baby mama drama. Now, today in art class, the girl in my class who I mentioned above was video chatting with her “baby daddy” and her beautiful three- year- old daughter. She even showed me a video of her daughter dancing around in their bathroom singing a cover of “Dynamite” by Taio Cruz. It was cute. She was cute. When I watched her talking to her mother that was sooooooooooooooooooooooooo cute. But… why should any girl have to be a “baby mama?” As gorgeous as my art class “buddy”‘s three-year-old is, I mean… what’s happened to her dreams? You may be thinking “well she’s going to college isn’t she?,” but I’m trying to get my basic credits out of the way before I go away to four year college or university at community college. This girl is in community college. There’s nothing wrong with community college, but that’s the cheapest option that she has to take because she has a child. Do you know what she told me today? She said that she’d dropped all of her other classes last semester except for art. Now, she’s a fantastic artist, but her dream is to own a restaurant. You can’t do that by dropping all your classes. And she misses classes sometimes. Why? Because she has a gorgeous little girl at home, a baby daddy, family drama,  a job to maintain, a house to help maintain  etc. She’s got responsibilities and the heaviest of them all… is that child.

Now, I in no way judge “baby mamas.” I do understand that there are some fine, know-the-right-thing-to-say kind of boys. I get that. I used to think Trey Songz was is fine. Ever heard of Trey Songz? Ever heard a Trey Songz song? Watch “Neighbors Know My Name” (which I should not be listening to but God that man is… gorgeous). He fits that fine, knowing-the-right-things-to-say kind of man. I get that you may be become involved with a man like that look up and BAM!!!- you have a baby. I get that “baby mamas” may have been in the moment and not have been thinking. I know that there is a such thing as accidents- they happen. I get that there are girls who don’t have my mentality (which I will share with you) and who haven’t been raised as I have. But… *sighs* you have to be stronger than even you may expect to be or want to be.

Now let me tell you: I WILL NEVER BE A BABY MAMA!!!! I have too many goals. If I lived in an alternate universe and did become a “baby mama,” I’d either be neglecting the poor child, which is wrong, or I’d be neglecting my dreams, which would make me so sad. Then the world wouldn’t experience me and my amazingness. I’d be depriving both myself and the world. Now you can’t deprive the world can you? And besides that, there isn’t not a boy/man/guy in this world that could convince me to be his “baby mama.” I love myself too damn much. Why be a baby mama, when at the time that I’m ready to have children, I could be a beautiful wife with children. Which one sounds better to you: wife with children or “baby mama?” I thought so…

So I got love for all those “baby mamas” out there, but I am writing this to inform you that I will NEVER EVER join your club. I politely, yet forcefully deny your subliminal request to be and join the “baby mama” crew. Take that “Secret Life of the American Teenager!!!!!!!!”

To all you baby mamas: Never give up on your dreams… no matter what. Never settle for less… you raise your child but keep working towards your dreams… you just take that baby with you.



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Keep Calm and ____________ …

You know those “Keep Calm and Carry On “images? I found some “Keep calm and ________’s” That I really liked:

For us shopaholics:



For us who find comfort in comfort food:


For us “Twi-hearts”: *Aren’t you going to miss freaking out whenever a new “Twilight” movie came out? 😦 I’m going to miss Taylor Lautner’s abs… but they’ll star in other movies I guess…*


For us fabulous dolls:


For those of who need some joy in our lives:


For those of us who need to relax:


For those of us with fantabulous big dreams:


For those of us who need to…:


After all, why wouldn’t they love you?

For Rihanna  fans and beautiful people (on the inside):


See… Rihanna sometimes has good messages. Sometimes… only sometimes…

My absolute favorite:

Keep Calm and...

And you can do what I did and…:


What are some of your own “Keep Calm and ___________”‘s? Develop your own and post them in the comments! Be creative. Make me laugh… I’ll post my favorites on the blog!!!

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Did you hear?

Did you hear? Today is Misao Okawa’s, from Japan, 115th birthday!!! That’s ahhhhmazing and I so want to live that long and longer, but I want to look hella (yes, I said “hella”) good when I’m 115 and still running marathons.  Ms. Okawa has three children, four grandchildren and six great-grandchildren and was just officially recognized last week as the oldest living woman of the world. Misao Okawa received a bouquet of flowers from care staff at the dining room of a nursing home, and celebrated her birthday with cake with the staff and friends at lunchtime in the nursing home she resides in. Go girl! Keep out living everybody else! 🙂

Isn’t that such an inspiring story? We need stories like that because nowadays “dying young” is an extremely common subject and reality for us all.

So, Misao Okawa’s birthday got me thinking… what do I want to have done before my own 115th birthday. Here’s some points:

  1. skydive
  2. scuba dive
  3. float (yes, float) in the Mediterreanean sea
  4. travel
  5. start my own magazine
  6. start my own line of shoes and designer evening gowns
  7. have my own interior design firm
  8. meet Barabara Streisand
  9. get married
  10. star in a music video (for some reason…)
  11. have a song written about me
  12. learn how to play guitar
  13. go to Paris and Italy
  14. go to Fashion Week
  15. finish writing my book
  16. master horseback riding
  17. go shopping in Paris
  18. become a queen of a small, yet beautiful and wealthy country at some point in my life (I am holding out hope for this one)
  19. win an “Interior Designer of the Year” award
  20. meet Raven Symone
  21. walk down a designer’s runway

Now, tell me, what do you want to do before your 115th birthday? Do you want to travel? What do want to be finished with by your 115th birthday? Let me know in the comments below!

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Cheers to the…

Cheers to the “freaks,” the “lames,” the “losers,” the “geeks,” the “outsiders,” the “misfits,” and the people who never seem to fit in. To the people who dare to be different than everyone else,  the people who create their own definitions of what is “in,” and create their own meanings of what is fabulous…

I’ve discovered that they’re some of the best people you and I will ever know…


I’m excited people!!!!!!


My future car...

My future car…


Want to know why I’m excited? Because I just drove on the expressway today for the first time and yes- I am still ALIVE!!!! Yay! I’m so proud of myself. I’m going to try to get my license sometime in next few months because I’ve had my permit for more than nine months already. (P.S. Did I mention that I was proud of myself)? Now I am a little afraid of all you people on the road because today I saw some girl smoking a joint while she was driving and my father had the nerve to ask me to show him a video of 3 point turns while he was driving!!! Nonetheless, if you ever see a hot pink Ferrari with suicide doors and license plate that says “FAB CHICK”- honk twice because you know that’ll be yours truly… 🙂



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My boo… Lady Lightning

Lady Lightning

This is my favorite horse Lady Lightning. I just rode her today at a farm as I have been doing almost every Friday for months now. She’s amazing and very tranquil and such a little princess and diva. She’s a Cremello with gorgeous blue eyes (and not the creepy eyes my camera gave her in this shot). I love her. I like Lady more than I like a lot of people and that’s sad. Not for me, but for those poor not-very-likable people. I was disgusted when I heard something today about horses being imported into the U.S.A for human consumption. I would hurt someone who tried to eat my Lady Lightning… Anyways, I am, currently taking an art class and have 55 sketches due by the end of the semester. Yes, you read right… 55 sketches. I am going to try to sketch this picture and I’ll post it on the blog. I hope it’s good and you like it. Cross your fingers… better yet cross everything- in addition to the fact that this counts as a grade, I plan to post it on the Internet so it had better be good! Be on the look out for the drawing on the blog!

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Chris Brown & Rihanna’s Law & Order Episode

OH! MY! GOD! Have you seen the Law & Order Victims Unit “Funny Valentine” episode based on Chris Brown and Rihanna’s fight in 2009? I don’t even like Law & Order, but I had to watch this. The message in the end is so important and that is that nothing good can come from an abusive relationship. Just watch the episode… maybe Rihanna will too, and get the hell away from that damned Chris Brown. Let’s hope that he doesn’t hit her again, but something else happens so she can finally learn to break up with that fool… for good. “I love you…” my foot. REAL LOVE IS NOT VIOLENT PEOPLE!!!!!!!! Remember that! If someone hits you and you can’t fight back, run away and NEVER look back!

Watch the episode here:

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I saw the most inspiring thing today…

I saw the most inspiring thing today… an older man studying in the library at school. I think he was taking an entry exam, and maybe he doesn’t know how to use a computer, so they allowed him to do it on paper, or maybe he’s taking a part time class… I don’t know. The point is that what I saw was amazing and inspiring and it reminded me to never give up and never stop learning… even in old age.

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I’m such a lame who actually likes and watches The Andy Griffith Show, that I almost cried when Andy Griffith died. Not because it was Andy Griffith, but because somehow it was it was Andy Taylor. Who sang, and played guitar, and was a perfect father and had that Southern drawl…

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Lessons to be learned (or reviewed) from Funny Girl

Move over Queen Bey! We’re talking a different Queen B and her name is Barbara Streisand. I am a firm believer in the magic and power of Barbara Streisand.  She’s won two Academy Awards, eight Grammy Awards including one Daytime Emmy, a Special Tony Award, an American Film Institute award, a Kennedy Center Honors award, a Peabody Award, and is one of the few entertainers who’s won an Oscar, Grammy, and Tony Award. According to the RIAA, she has released 51 Gold albums, 30 Platinum albums, and 13 Multi-Platinum albums in the United States. I’ve read something that said she’s the most important and influential person in the music industry over the course the last 50 years. I respect that. I admire that.  I love that. I love her. I love Barbara Streisand so much that, she doesn’t know it yet, but she’s going to sing at my wedding and be the fairy god mother to at least one of my children. I also love Barbara Streisand movies. I’m working on watching every single one of them at least once and from then I’ll move on to listening to every single one of her songs. So… let’s talk about the first Barbara Streisand movie I watched and , now, my favorite movie in the whole world staring the one and only Barbara Streisand- Funny Girl.

I love Funny Girl (I am fact singing “People” as I write this. Loudly, proudly, and yes, a little off- key). Ever since I first found out about the movie- not too long ago- I’ve seen that movie like twenty times. Every girl should watch Funny Girl at least once in her life. Besides the fact that Barbara Streisand is in it, which should be reason enough to watch this movie, there are lessons to be learned (or reviewed) from the movie.

Lesson No. 1: Believe in yourself.

Now I know you may have heard this before, from your parents, your friends, or from a Disney Channel movie, but it’s so important to be reminded of that. Fannie Brice in the beginning shows us what it means to believe in herself. She decides that she wants to be where she belongs- on center stage. She doesn’t let other people explain to her that she can’t make it because she’s not blonde, has skinny legs, and a slightly longer schnoz in comparison to the other girls in show business. She does whatever it takes to get on the stage and she doesn’t seem to comprehend the word “no.” That pays off because eventually she gets a job, the great Florenz Ziegfeld hears of her,  then she becomes not just a Ziegfeld girl, but the Ziegfeld girl. It’s her name in lights when people go to see a Ziegfeld show.

Lesson No. 2: Don’t let anyone, especially a guy, stand in the way of your dreams…

… even if he’s as charming as a Mr. Nicky Arnstein.

Fanny Brice eventually falls in love… with Nicky Arnstein. (Why does there always have to be a guy in the movies?)  And then they get married. At the time he and Fannie got married, she was an upcoming star and he was a professional gambler. He later discovers that he can’t deal with her spotlight. The fact that her light shined brighter than his and the fact that her light shined on him and everyone seemed to know his financial woes made him sort of resentful towards her and eventually he decides he wants to move on. So after he’s released from jail, he meets up with Fannie at the theater she headlines at and he still wants to separate. Anyway, before then, there’s a point in the movie where Fanny decides that she wants to be with Nicky on this boat and not board a train to the next stop for the Ziegfeld Follies show. She was willing to risk being fired and losing her dream job, to be with the guy that she wanted. That’s all very cute but… you should never give up your dreams for anyone. She probably would have done it again, if Nicky decided he still wanted to be with her, but only if she gave up her career as a singer/comedienne. See, that’s a problem because Fanny Brice had more talent in her pinky finger than Nicky did in his entire body. And the fact that she was willing to give up her career to be with him, shows she had more heart too. In the movie we lose Fanny Brice believing in herself. She loses sight of herself and what she wants because she stops believing in Fanny Brice, the comedienne actress and singer. She’s baffled that some guy actually wants her, despite the fact that she’s talented and beautiful in her own way. So she was willing to give her dreams up for some guy who didn’t even really love her because if he really loved her he would’ve stayed with her. If he couldn’t make it as a professional gambler because everyone knew his business, he would’ve found a job so he could maintain his wife and children. In the end, in real life, Nicky not only removed himself from her life (before they got married), but their two childrens’ as well. So overall…


Lesson No. 3:

Believe in the magic and the power of Ms. Barbara Streisand.

Thank you!

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You know what I read yesterday…


A little while ago I found an old journal from when I was younger and you know what I wished for… to be the prettiest girl in school. Awww… I almost cried. Reading that brought back so many emotions and memories of feeling ugly and… left out. But guess what? With a little self- confidence, self- realization, self- acceptance, a higher self esteem, and a new self- image, I am now a friggin’ self- proclaimed, self- nominated beauty queen.

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Happy birthday to my best friend Maliah M. Lee who passed away six years ago on July 6th, 2007. My doll was so pretty, smart, and her laugh and smile was absolutely infectious. She inspired me to become more confident and just and even more radiant as she was.

I love you doll! You’d be so proud of me.

And happy birthday to my friend Maryam who is a wonderful example of what it means to be a “good girl”  and a good listening ear.

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