Try to plan your weekend

Atlantic Station

Whatever you do try to plan your weekend before the weekend. 

Even though making plans has never been my forte, but the weekend is crucial it's five days ahead of time so it deserves planning. The only thing I planned to do was go to the movies, and I did. I saw Stop Loss yesterday, apart from that I just wanted to catch up on my sleep since I missed out on it last week while my mum was here. 

Coming back from the movies I realized that I must be going on a year in Atlantic Station and there are some places I have never really hung out in, Strip, Ten Pin Alley, etc. Granted I may not be missing anything, but I might as well when it's a stone throw from me, instead of booking a movie on pay per view and sitting in front of the TV and getting fatter. 

I need to switch up my routine. So I just had a wasted day. I didn't do any housework, I didn't cook, and I didn't get to the gym. I just basically watched some porn on the Internet, got dressed, rearranged my closet, took out the thick winter turtlenecks, and just stuffed them somewhere, and stepped out hoping to take a nice walk around the block, promising to hit the town, Strip more precisely later. 

After the first dash of rain, I thought there was still hope, but the weather had other plans. After a couple of stores, it started to come down, and a little later it came down harder bringing thunder storms with it. So I did my usual routine only this time ordering bad Chinese and sitting in front of the TV. 

So now my weekend is over, only tomorrow left and they've called for rain as well, so I don't know what I can possibly do in one day to make up for the very boring weekend. But we'll see, God, who says we should let Him lead the way and stop with all our crummy plans, just might surprise me.

To Not Bar is the Answer...For Now

So I answered my own question. I decided not to Bar...for now. And that's all I am saying about it. There was a time I wouldn't tell anyone about my plans, not even my journal; it was meant for only myself. Now, I am just so open mouthed. I told everyone about the Boob job before it happened. And I suspect that's why I hit a lot of road blocks along the way. Then, of course, the Bar. So not a peep. All I am going to say, it is not to Bar for now. But hopefully there would be a Bar license by the time I turn 35.

It was a not so exciting Easter. As a matter of fact, it's been a not so exciting month. Because of the boob job I haven't worked out, and I haven't been reading, even for work. And I am getting out of it at work. I don't know if it's post-vacation depression, or the inevitable one-year itch. But I am not understanding what I am doing anymore and that saddens me, and work is a glorified mess. At least it was last week. My only consolation was the upcoming Easter, and that just came and went so quickly, I hardly even noticed.

I have to think of a plan though. I cannot spend my evenings watching TV, or browsing restaurants, or just doing nothing. There has to be some kind of plan in place. I cannot let this year go by just like last year, without achieving something solid. Something that will advance me. One thing I did was get the boobs, then, what next? It has to be intellectual. I am tired of asking people without Master's degrees every single question, I should be able to know the answer to these questions...with time, I should. I shit you not. It's embarrassing, that I do not. But maybe I was not supposed to be a lawyer, maybe I was supposed to be something else. Maybe the grand plan is for me to finish off my screenplay and try to do something with it. But I haven't written in such a long time, and writing now seems like a chore, even this journal seems like a chore, see how often I update.

But there has to be a plan. I have to think of it, and I promise not to tell anyone when I finally figure it out.

To Bar or not to Bar?

To take the Bar or not to take the Bar, that is the question of the day.

We have only 3 months left to study and virtually no study materials and $2000 to spend on registration and study material, plus my hospital fees from the recently completed surgery.

So what do you think?

Should I take the plunge?

people in strange places

I've been recovering from my breast reduction surgery that occurred a week ago. So far things are good. I feel good. The drugs (painkillers) have helped tremendously. I feel bad that I haven't been able to work out for over a week, and I am sure I have gained a lot of weight from sitting on the couch, but I am glad I am recovering. The surgery went well. The boobs don't look as good as I expected them to look, something about the scars that just irk me, but I cannot complain. I don't think they've perfected the art of reducing boobs as well as they have done increasing them. All I can say is good bye to the Triple D's and hello C cup. Hopefully smaller once the swelling goes down, but we can only hope.


I've been rested up in my sister's place in the suburbs, and it feels like I am vacationing in the country. It does not feel like the same state; it's like a southern split of it, like the hick version of America. There was even a country radio station booth event at the mall today. I just slowly feel like this is a recovery period, like going to the country to recover, and moving back to the city when I get better. And being here allows me to go around my doctor's appointments without any make up on, my hair all funky with bruises on my chests. I cannot get away with that in the city. Here I blend in with the housewives.

I have a few days left before I return to normalcy. It still hurts to walk around, carry my big purse around, try out clothes while shopping, and I cannot take a complete shower so if you know me, I apologize if I stink slightly. But hey, they are smaller and slightly perky so I cannot complain. Wait till the summer comes, halters all the way.

Suburbian living just reminds me of why I moved to the city. It makes me regret even living in the suburbs for as long as I did. I should have moved to the city long ago, but I waited it out and let my timidity get the best of me. I was afraid of what life in the city would be like for an out of towner like me, but it's no different. There's literally nothing to do in the surburbs, except sit at the mall, and watch the rest of the homemakers shop at 10 in the morning. There are no eligible single people walking around, everyone's driving a Ford Bronco with a baby seat in the backseat. It's like early retirement.

Goodbye to the Triple D's

So it's goodbye to the triple D's. 

I don't know what they look like yet except they are heavy and sore and hurt like hell, and I can feel the tingling sensation from where the stitches happened, but this is final hoorah to my boobs. 

As the days came closer, I was more relieved than scared, everybody else was scared for me, but I was just ready to have it over and done with. They wheeled me over at a little before noon and I don't know anything else until they woke me up at 4 pm and mentioned that it was a success. 

Since then it's been drugs, drugs, drugs, craving a nice martini but no can do.

It happens tomorrow

So it is...the surgery hopefully shall happen tomorrow. I pray to God I get out of it okay, no sweat and hope for better looking boobs - breast reduction. 

Dear God, I pray I get out of this one fit and strong, pray for God's speed.

Tales of the block and my disdain

Everywhere you go to in Atlanta, every bar, lounge, restaurant, it's filled with white people, and superficial black people. And none of them are friendly. If I were to rate them on a scale of who is the friendliest, I would say the white people sometimes after a few drinks, but the black people are too busy trying to hit on the white girls to even give a shit. And the white men, are too busy trying to look all preppy, (like this is the Hamptons or something), that they don't speak to you until they've had enough drinks in them. And when the superficial black people do speak to you after staring at you for the longest time and wondering why you came to this dig by yourself, you would rather they don't because they really don't have anything constructive to say. If the ratio of black people that date (and marry) white women equalled the same number of white men that date (and marry) black women, I wouldn't be so upset. But it's not. It's like the brothers have flown the coop, and left us black women stranded and left to fend for ourselves, like we had a rash or something so they had to flee really fast. But the crop they left us with is nothing to write home about. White men hardly dig black women. It's like, what gives?

Yesterday was an exceptionally warm day, so I took a walk along Peachtree street, good idea, right? First of all, if you are not jogging, just walking and not necessarily to your car you are stared at as if, your car broke down or something, and of course no one wants to give you the right of way even when the street sign clearly says, "Walk." People only walk in Midtown during the week from their offices to the nearest restaurant for lunch, but during the weekend, it's just you walking and you have to keep reminding yourself, my car didn't break down, I just want to enjoy the sun. Sharp contrast to New York where there was not enough room on the sidewalk for the people walking.

So there I was walking, first restaurant, preppy white boys, sprinkle of black men but they are so enchanted by the white girls that it doesn't even matter. Second restaurant, gay people are eating. Third restaurant, the older businessmen who seem to still be in the closet are having an early dinner with drinks. It was a total bust of a Saturday. I came home and surfed the web. Not a good way to start off the Ides of March.

I will try again today. It's going to be 70 degrees.