Wanna Be a Baller

A few of us ladies get together once a month to have breakfast, discuss faith and what's going on in our lives, and just have community. Today's breakfast cinnamon rolls, the topic what roles we play and how we identify with others and with Christ. Melody, the chef and hostess, told us she is referred to at her job (architect) as a "baller", which she had to look up on Wikipedia (Urban Dictionary says "a thug that has 'made it' to the big time"). Most of the women are married, some are moms, which is sort of the norm in this demographic, and I figured the roles I play right now just don't compare. Work is work, I like the job, it's hard for me as I feel like an idiot at least some part of most days, it's what I spend the majority of my time doing. The other role is daughter and sister; which I feel lousy at right now as I'm 1600 miles away from my family. I didn't include friend, because it didn't come to mind, and I need "my" time to regain the energy that social interaction drains from me. For these reasons I feel like a bad friend; I'm not socially proactive, I don't let people in. I guess I identify with "loner" and "misanthrope" more than friend, the latter of which my friends pointed out as not true. That's what they're good at, isn't it, seeing the "you" you don't see. And if these more-important-role-having wives and moms are right, being a friend is good preparation for those possibly more special roles I would like to have some day. Like a baller, shot caller, 20 inch blades on the Impala.

VD

I generally despise Valentine's Day. I mean, why wouldn't I? In the profound words of the Superbowl halftime show-bombing Black Eyed Peas, "where is the love" in my life? And the fact that I'm taking energy to write about it is even more pathetic. I received an email from FTD (those rats latched onto me ever since I sent my mom flowers 5 years ago) and it fired me up á la the "Make her forget you forgot" St. Paul Hotel billboard circa 2006. Because I'm sure an overpriced dinner will completely negate the fact that you forgot your wife's [insert special occasion here], poof!


I think being the "envy of the office" is passé, but for argument's sake let's say it's not. It's 2011, for crying out loud, and I think a woman's intelligence/leadership/credentials should do the envy-making; not some overpriced, finite, albeit pretty, perennial given out of obligation.

Switching gears a bit, just when I was feeling sorry for myself as I usually do this time of year (I am pretty sure that there should be some sort of content filter for television which blocks the showing of "Say Yes to the Dress" in a household containing a single woman >30), I saw such a beautiful act of love in the nontraditional sense this morning. It's no secret that I'm concerned with the plight of the homeless in this city. It's palpable. I volunteer when I can and I work at a county hospital but I still feel utterly helpless when I see these people standing at main intersections with signs proclaiming their helplessness. Today I witnessed three women, two older and less agile, one younger, carrying backpacks and duffel bags and coffee thermoses and stopping from person to person on the street offering goods and a smile. It was so touching. And beautiful.

I guess, Fergie and Will.i.am, that's where the love is.

Happy Valentine's Day to those of you who celebrate, which I do in a way, Judy Fu's Snappy Dragon here I come!!!!