Sunday, January 30, 2011

Friday, January 28, 2011

Running


I can't remember exactly when it happened, but I know it was a few years ago when I was relatively inexperienced with the characters of the city. I remember it was spring... a spring afternoon, and I know that because it was bright out and the weather was nice and mild. I had just gotten out of class  and was on my way home. I was about a block away from entering the subway when it started pouring. Torrential, soaking rain that forced me to hide under an awning for the next 15 minutes. I remember I was on the phone talking to my girlfriend, and the whole time I was chit chatting on the phone with her, there was this man. He was standing directly in front of me, with his eyes locked intensely on me.

He was short in stature, dark skinned and properly dressed, as if he had just left a business meeting. He had an eclectic look reminiscent of another era. Round, dark rimmed glasses, a vest and blazer, and I can't remember if he was wearing a bow-tie but he may as well have been.

His staring made me uncomfortable and he continued to do so even after I alluded to his presence on the phone with my friend. I had barely hung up the phone before he began speaking to me. "What's your name?" he blurted out. I looked at the rain falling around us and gave him a fake one. He nodded and repeated it to himself, as if sounding out the word. He asked me my age and I told him. He told me he was in his late twenties, and I knew he was lying. He easily appeared to be about thirty-ish. He started talking about how he had just moved to the city and how he didn't often meet nice girls before he launched into a tirade about how most women were "bitches".

The rain continued to pound the pavement. Was he ever going to stop? Oh, how I needed him to.

He asked for my number, and I said that I don't usually give it out. "C'mon... are you gonna be like that? Why are you acting like a bitch? I know you're not a bitch." My eyes narrowed and I launched into defense mode. I was surprised he hadn't put his hands on me yet. "Maybe women act bitchy towards you because you call them names," I spat. The situation was dire and hopeless. He continued pestering me, digging himself deeper into a hole; while I tuned him out and sought my escape.

I figured my only way out was to plain run. I gave him a look that said, 'This conversation is over. Don't you dare try anything stupid' before I looked out onto the street, shoved him out of my way and ran. I ran and I ran and I ran*, and when I got to my subway station, my outfit fully soaked through, I checked that I was in the clear [I was], and bounded happily down the steps.

And after that day I realized that sometimes when things get sticky, it really is okay to run.

*I really want to make a Flock of Seagulls joke here but I won't.

Monday, January 24, 2011

Three Things

Three places you've lived:
-Boise, Idaho
-Dominican Republic
-Harlem

Three places you've worked:
-Hollister
-Buddha Bar
-In many private homes all over the city as a nanny

Three things you love to watch:
-Movies
-Guys hanging out together [always hilarious]
-Success in the making

Three places you have visited:

-Charlotte, North Carolina
-Santa Monica, California
-Toronto, Ontario, Canada

Three places you'd love to visit:

-Miami
-Los Angeles
-Paris

Three things you love to eat:
-
Berries
-Mexican food
-Ice cream

Three things you enjoy doing:

-Cracking jokes
-Organizing
-Rollerskating

Three things you're looking forward to:

-Traveling
-Mega money in the bank
-Summer

Three physical things you like about yourself:

-Body
-Face
-Skintone

Three things you are known for:

-My honesty
-My ladylike demeanor
-My confrontations

Three parts of your heritage:

-Dutch
-Spanish
-Native American

Three things that scare you:

-Failure
-Mediocrity
-Losing control of myself

Three of your everyday essentials:

-Phone
-Lip balm/gloss
-Hand cream

Three things you're wearing now:

-Boyshorts
-Fuzzy socks
-Headband

 

Three favorite TV shows:
-Sex and the City
-The Wire
-What not to wear [Stacey London what up!]

Three careers you've seriously considered:

-Defense Attorney
-Art/English Teacher
-Publicist

Three things that are stereotypical about you:

-I'm a minority who likes Hip Hop.
-I'm a pretty girl who's a snob.
-I'm a minority who can dance really well.



Three things you want to accomplish:
-Purchasing property.
-"Working" no more than 30 hrs a week.
-Creating and maintaining a productive, beneficial routine.

Three physical things about the opposite sex that appeal to you:

-Fit upper body
-Style
-Facial features that complement each another

Three women you find attractive:

-Charlize Theron
-Kate Beckingsale
-Kim Kardashian [somewhere in the middle of all the surgeries]

Three men you find attractive:

-Columbus Short
-Idris Elba.
-This 19 yr old college kid I met a few weeks ago. Seriously.

Three things that irritate you about the same sex:

-Princess complexes.
-Their extraordinarily complicated nature.
-The jealousy, shadiness, pettiness, competiveness. All garbage.

Three things that irritate you about the opposite sex:

-How easily captivated they are by the physical.
-Their general cluelessness as to how to appropriately treat a woman.
-The rampant immaturity that exists.

Three of your favorite words:

-Amazing
-Fuck
-Wylin

Three of your favorite [current] songs:

-The XX "You've got the love"
-Major Lazer & La Roux "Cover my eyes remix"
-Drake "Fear" [instrumental]... This was REALLY hard.

Three of your favorite musical artists:

-Amy Winehouse
-Black Thought
-Esthero... This was also REALLY hard.

Three of your favorite lyrics:

-Okay you a goon, but what's a goon to a goblin?
-There's a lot of bullshit flooding the scene where everybody's a star and hot shit is few and far between.
-Respect is just the minimum.

Three skills you have:

-I'm a great salsa dancer.
-I have really good directional ability.
-I can mimic lot of singing styles and rap flows.


Three words to describe you:
-Solid
-Gold
-Trophy

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Wifey



Contrary to popular use, I regard "Wifey" as a woman who has a ring on her finger because she and her beloved are in it to win it, in it for the long haul. She plans to be happily married, do it once and do it right the first time [my goal and intention].

A serious relationship isn't something I think about regularly, nor is it something I can honestly say I'd be devastated to be without. But sometimes I read things or come across thoughts that make marriage and what kind of wife I would be creep into my head.

The level of seriousness and permanency that marriage brings to mind strikes a chord of fear in all of  us. I don't know one person who doesn't side eye marriage like it took away their favorite toy.  Many see it as aspirational, old-fashioned, impossible. We wonder how we can say forever when we can barely maintain a year. How are we supposed to sustain true love when we can barely capture another heart? How can we trust when we have often suffered the adverse effects of doing so?

There's only one thing I really fear about marriage, and it's the same as what most men fear. I fear my  future husband changing into someone I don't recognize anymore, or my partner attempting to change me. This is my truest fear because although I can pick up on unfavorable characteristics and habits and carefully avoid them, how does one determine whether someone will change? I fear he'll want me to be more submissive, more passive, more traditional. I fear he'll want me to do it all. I fear that he'll want a woman to defer to him in every way, or maybe just in one way. I find that some men do not want a woman who shines as brightly as he.

And I, for one, shine bright as fuck. And I refuse to be dimmed.

So there's a little fear there. But certainly not enough to stop me from getting what I want, and that's all fear intends to be. A deterrent. That tiny fear won't stop me from treating people right, and introducing myself to the cute guy on the corner, and later, looking into his eyes and telling him that I want him.

I believe in trust and honesty and respect and loyalty and commitment. But there's so much more. There should be an honor for one another, an admiration, a passion between two people. A union without these things, is a union that is unjust and incomplete. I want to connect on a spiritual level with my partner, and without spouting off my magnificent unassailable qualities, it's fair to say I deserve all that. I'm a good catch. I give love freely and I multiply what I receive. I'm just a soul whose intentions are extraordinary. I know that it will take a strong man to really understand and value me the way that I need and desire.

And when I meet him, I'll for damn sure be his wifey.

This was inspired by SophsAProblem's post around the same topic. [Sidenote: Her webpage is one of the most entertaining I have ever come across. Ever. I'm sure you've noticed that I don't have a blogroll on my sidebar, the reason being that I don't really dig anyone else that much; but her site made me second guess that. She just strikes a chord within me, impresses me and makes me LOL time and time again. Check her out.]

My World View

What does Lady Blue think about...

Men and women being friends?
I think this is possible and successful in very rare instances, ie both people are very unattractive, or what they seek in a friend differs greatly from what they seek in a partner. Otherwise, I think the "What if?"  question passes through both of their minds in this back and forth, erratic motion. Of course it probably doesn't help that most people will encourage a relationship ["But you guys look so cute together!"] since seeing a man and woman get along in a non sexual manner is disconcerting to most. In my case, it's fairly easy to stay friends with guys because once I stick them in the friend box that's all they are, and they rarely, if ever switch out.

Gay marriage?
To be totally honest, I don't.

A woman's right to choose?

I think a woman has the right to choose not to get pregnant. It's so easy and affordable now to acquire protection that I feel if a woman gets pregnant, that's what she must have wanted. I think in cases of rape and incest [especially], a woman should have the choice to terminate the pregnancy. In cases of irresponsibility, I don't feel that should be an option. Bringing a child into the world is an enormous consequence for a few moments of needless pleasure -  but you probably should have thought of that before you and the homie decided to go bareback, hmm? I think in cases of "fooling around" the woman should bring the baby to term [
I don't believe an innocent child should pay the price for your act of selfishness] and then place the child up for adoption. There are so many infertile couples out there who would love to scoop up your bundle of joy. [And all those people who yammer about the world being overpopulated can kindly STFUWTBS.] Unplanned pregnancies are one of those bittersweet things where you have no one but yourself to blame and everyone knows you did something stupid but they are trying to see the beauty in it. I can understand the temptation to make the "problem" "disappear" in a situation like that - but the question is, does it really? It is overall, a terrible situation to be in. [And you're gonna go to hell no matter what you do.] I'm saying all this to say: please take the necessary precautions and pop your pills before you're faced with a real huge pill to swallow.

Monogamy?
I think monogamy is a great thing and essential and preferable for a healthy family structure. I won't say I agree with the statement "it's not for everyone", but I will say that I think some people need to work harder at it. I don't think anyone is genetically predisposed to cheat. Get the fuck outta here. That is the poorest excuse for self control I have ever heard. And if you don't have any self control, prepare for a long hard life my friend. 


The traditional wife role?
I think both men and women should be able to sustain themselves independently, that way come marriage, they can join forces and make running their home and lives go quite smoothly. I'm young but I'm clean and organized, responsible [ie: bill-paying and such] and do okay in the kitchen. I have my little tricks to running my apartment and life efficiently
, one thing I like to do especially in NYC is outsource laundry and things like that. I certainly take pride in my home and my belongings but I don't want the responsibility of that to lie solely on my shoulders as the wife. I used to feel I was lesser than because I'm not an "I LOVE to cook" type of woman... until I had an exchange with my old bosses: We were talking about the fact that the wife admitted she didn't know her way around the kitchen and so the husband did all the cooking every single night. He nodded in agreement and in her defense, quipped "But she makes money." After that I was like sheeeit, as long as you're bringing something substantial to the table and in effect balancing the scales, any union can work. So all in all, no, I don't feel it's necessary for a woman to take on that traditional cooking and cleaning role. Now if she wants to, she can feel free! I don't know a man who would argue with that.





Racism?
Let me just first say that
I'm a huge believer in personal culpability/responsibility and I don't think anyone can hold you back from what you really wanna do, if you really wanna do it. Where there's a will there's a way. Little is impossible. Also, Oprah and Obama. Please and thank you. What I'm about to say may be a result of being part of the invisible party in most race fueled discussions, but I think that racism is really blown out of proportion. I'm not saying it doesn't happen... but I just think it gets blamed far too often. I've never really experienced racism. Misogyny? Fuck yes. Almost every day of my life. I don't know why I haven't experienced racism - but maybe one reason is that I don't look for it. I also conduct myself in an orderly manner [I am a lady!] and am an upstanding, law abiding citizen. I'm also petite and attractive, and I'm aware that these are factors that work in my favor. But lastly, I don't let negative stereotypes of my race or preconceptions of what I'm "supposed to be like" get the best of me. I share the same ethnic background with many hooligans [I rebuke you Sammy Sosa, Michelle Rodriguez, Dania Ramirez... solely because she's friends with Kelis *shudder*] but that's where it ends. I also share the same ethnic background with many successful people [Oscar de la Renta, Zoe Saldana, Juan Luis Guerra]... so I mean, it really depends how you look at it. At what point do you stop blaming everyone's racism for your misfortune and pick your ass up? At what point do you stop caring about being "too white" or "too black" and just do what you feel anyway? At what point will you start seeing people as humans and not just their skin color? At what point will you stop using stereotypes to assess a whole group of people? Also why are Asians and Latins/Hispanics always left out of the equation? What the hell is that about? People really need to get real and get educated, and quick, because we can't have them passing a lot of this nonsense on to the next generation.

Religion?
I have a lot of sporadic thoughts on this topic so I'll try to sum them up quickly.
I think religion is opium for the masses, mankind's version of God is pretty delusional and the bible is an ancient book of cautionary fairytales. The only thing I believe in that has any semblance to a belief in God, is my belief that "God" is within you. Your gut feelings, positive and negative energy, that little voice inside your head... that is what I equate to be your "God". I think that's why it feels so good when you take note of these little internal signals, these flickers of light and hope, and pay attention to them and let them guide your life. My gut and my brains have never steered me wrong. And that is where I direct my praise. [As for my religious stance: I am agnostic which I take to mean, there's no proof God exists and there's no proof he doesn't. It is unknowable. I was "religious" for a few years until it occurred to me that the people around me were so indoctrinated they were almost zombie-like and more importantly, despite being obedient and "faithful" I had never felt the "force" of "God" in my life. People love to say that I wouldn't have gotten to where I am without God watching over me; but how interesting that if I had happened to land in jail, welp! God had nothing to do with that. So we are supposed to bestow thanks to him for everything good that happens to us, but blame ourselves when bad things occur in our lives? Right. God is touted as wise and just, yet he regretted the Noah's ark flood, gets easily jealous and has killed more people in the bible than Satan did. All in all, a hot ass mess. Just like hell.]

Wholeheartedly

I love this wholeheartedly, from top to bottom. My life philosophy in clear words! I'm mad they spelled "fundamental" all wrong/weird though.


Tuesday, January 18, 2011

The Standard

The scene: New York City's The Standard Hotel, Summer 2010
The question: What does success look like?

A room at The Standard Hotel

I was running out of 1oak after dancing the night away when I was stopped by a guy and asked what my favorite drink was. I told him "Mojito" and continued rushing out the door with my newfound girlfriend. I lent him my phone number out of sheer curiosity [he was white, and white men don't usually approach me] and the next afternoon I was sipping on my drink of choice while out to lunch with him.

He told me how he had saved me in his phone as "LadyBluebyfarthehottestgirleverasIwasleaving" and I laughed.

He was a gadget guy who had developed some sort of social networking gadget. I would later find out he was in New York City in the middle of negotiations. I didn't go out with him because I was interested in his money - even if I was, it wasn't easy to tell he had any. He wasn't dripping in jewels or a famous watch or even some bespoke expertly tailored designer threads. He was part of this new money movement I guess, and by his constant exclamations of "It's on me, order whatever you want", he sure acted like it. By the time he flew back home to LA about 10 days later, he was 3 million dollars richer from the finished deal.

I joined him on the roof of The Standard, sipped some more drinks and basked in the gorgeous weather as I got comfortable. He decided my age was a deal-breaker, I forgave him for thinking he even had a real chance with me and decided to enjoy the ride for what it was. I was pretty free time-wise, the weather was breezy and so I decided to spend the next few days languishing in another world. He was generous and genuinely kind deep down, and he respected me and thought I had a rare integrity, so I didn't feel at all unsafe. The week was spent in and out of his hotel room with a slew of other characters, everyone from drug addicts, to attention whores, to classic douchebags, to insecure girls wearing too much makeup. What was surprising about the damaged and immature late 20s-early 30s crowd was that they were all remotely successful. I remained the voice of reason in the group of misfits, and took the opportunity to learn about these people and this whole new world I wasn't at all interested in permanently becoming a part of.  Soft porn was flashing on the TV, Katy Perry's "California Girls" was blaring, corks were constantly popping and the guests were doe-eyed and hopeful. We ordered room service, I sat cross legged on the floor eating salads and sipping coke from glass bottles while I listened to a 33 year old with her tits hanging out tell me about her freelance job as a web designer and her poor romantic decisions and overcoming her drug addiction. I saw blonds with cubic zirconias in their ears and dollar signs in their eyes, and  I discussed  business with a 35 year old Asian woman who was involved in Real Estate, asking her about the keys to becoming successful. Later, I would walk in on her giving my gracious host a blow job. It was like a 70s lovefest. I thought I would love the 70s, but now I wasn't so sure.

Camera phone pic of the pool in the middle of the floor!
Me in said pool. Ta-da! This story is real.

I would leave work and stop by in the middle of the party, joining anywhere from a handful to a dozen deranged people in this hotel room and sharing stories, listening quietly, or snacking on a free steak plate  I would make room service bring up from the cafe downstairs. I splashed around in the pool at the top of The Standard, and tried not to care or feel embarrassed when douchebags eyeballed my ass as I slinked out. I turned down advance after advance, and blushed when they all gushed at how young I was. I sipped juice while they all got wasted, I met a different group of girls every night, I got eye fucked by tan shirtless gymrats who rebuffed me when I tried to smile hello.

And throughout it all, I felt saddened. The air was thick with desperation and confusion and people seeking love in empty bottles of alcohol and between strangers legs.  It was ugly vanity and conspicuous consumption and  constant disregard for themselves and others.  One night in the middle of a dark room, a few days after all the madness began... I'd decided I had enough. My host held me in his arms in his bed and pleaded, practically begged me to stay and I wondered why a grown man felt he needed me so much.

Although I didn't partake in any of the rampant debauchery, I felt sick and I felt filthy. I hadn't had one up building, intellectual conversation in a fucking week. One week had changed my perception of things so much  that I feared what two weeks could do. What could a life of this do? Months later I heard reports of Sylvie Cachay and Nicole John [who creepily enough, was photographed with a guy I recognized from this fiasco a week before her death] and my mind thought... wow. Close motherfucking call. Those people were living in a world that not even money could sustain. Loose, wild, carefree and reckless. Money doesn't solve everything. Certainly not death.

Suddenly, I grabbed my purse and my shoes and hit the cobblestone streets of the meatpacking district. But before I braved the night alone and headed far far away; I turned around, took one good look at the booming hotel and said to myself "If this is what it looks like, then I don't fucking want it."

Monday, January 17, 2011

Featured Talent: Lady Blue

Lady Blue
Writer [Blogger & Poet]/Sketch Artist
22 years of age
NYC by way of Long Island

"I want people to feel impassioned enough by my writing that they are compelled to laugh, cry, or hurl things at me."


Describe your style:
My writing style is kind of insane by "normal" standards. I'm a pretty honest writer, and I can be serious; but I like to believe my audience is conscious of the continuous underlying current of ridiculousness. My posts are often tongue-in cheek and I'm either clowning someone, being super sarcastic, or being dead serious [which is often seen as hilarious]. I'm very aware that most of my jokes go over people's heads. You don't wanna know my theory on that. I am an incredible smart ass, a keen observer and an opinionated chatterbox. My blog amuses me. I never seriously called myself a writer or a blogger or even a poet, but more so a self-expresser and less seriously, a "real talk" advocate. Fakery gets us nowhere but more removed from who we really are and who we want to be. Now, I find that saying I'm a "writer" or "blogger" is the easiest way to sum up what I do without getting into an in depth conversation. With my poetry, I always aim to strike a chord - whether it's "I've been there before!" or bloody tears of sadness. My poetry is very much a song for the heartstrings. My drawing style ranges from very cartoonish to almost photo-realistic. I've done a lot of portraits of the female form in particular because I find it beautiful and quite easy to draw. I've also done a series of drawings where everything is detailed but the faces are kept blank. Faceless people. Some people love it; most people find it creepy and hate it. And they should because the concept was born out of laziness.

What do you like most about your craft?
Writing: It is the always amenable confessional; writing to me is what some may equate to talking to God. God is always there to listen, and the paper is always there urging me to let it all out. It's a way for me to basically blab my little heart out without some bastard from the peanut gallery muttering "Shat the fack up!” under their breath. It's a way for me to be somewhat selfish because in order for me to get on with things, I need to let it all out. I need to express it. Writing has always been very therapeutic for me and I can't imagine what would ever take its place. Poetry: Poetry is enthralling. I love putting my heart and soul completely out there and being able to draw emotion out of others when they read my words. I like feeling and emotion, whether it's happiness or anger or melancholy and I can put myself in someone else's shoes: the hero, the heartbroken, the battered...  and I can feel how they feel and beautifully express it. There's a wonder behind it - just like in music. But believe it or not, I think poetry requires a bit more of the imagination. Sketching: What I love about drawing is the feeling that I'm creating a masterpiece, I am constantly in awe of the fact that a mere pencil, some lines, and some shading can create what it ultimately does.


How did you get your start?
I began writing at about 12 years of age; I was actually just copying my older brother. I saw that he kept a journal and I seemed to find that very interesting and I said "I think I might do that too", and then I did. Over the years, journals upon journals turned into poetry and once I hit about 200+ poems, I began blogging. I had a blog on xanga when I first started, and it was probably some of the worst writing I've ever done because I was being watched and I felt very censored. I was also like 16-17 years old, so needless to say, it was a very different period of time in my life. I certainly don't feel censored now at all, thank goodness. I started BlueShame in March 2009 without any real direction for the site, I just knew that I wanted it to be more grown-up and obviously more NYC-centric since I was calling the city home at that time. It has slowly evolved into a little piece of the internet that I really work hard on and am really proud of. Poetry: I can't remember how I started writing poetry. Perhaps the same curiosity that drove me to write. I do remember my first poem which was simple and awful and mimicking some R&B hook I'd heard. I definitely grew as writer, and wrote my best poetry after reeling from the heartbreak of a first lust at age 16. My last poem "Peace" written in 12th grade is so incredible that when I read it now, I can't even believe I penned it. Sketching: I excelled in art classes from a very young age, probably because I was so meticulous. I always colored inside the lines. I hated coloring with other kids because they all sucked and didn't know how to color. That was probably my early strains of OCD and perfectionism showing, but I didn't realize it then. In my art classes I was often the only girl who had grades [and skills] on par with the guys - who mostly drew anime. Fucking anime. I remember being frustrated because I felt like my refusal to copy some pokemon garbage was keeping me from a solid 100. I won tons of awards for my art anyway. I started drawing outside of class when a peer of mine showed me her drawings, and I was somehow convinced I could outdo her. I felt I could, and a half hour later, I did. I drew some gangster Latin girl who looked like she could kick some major ass. When I was finished, I was like "Damn she looks better than Doug!" And I just continued drawing from there.

What are you doing presently?
I am still blogging of course, writing poetry very sparingly and trying to pin down one solid idea for a potential novel [there's several that have swam through my head throughout the years]. Save for a T-shirt design I recently did, I haven't drawn in a few years; but I blame that on being a preoccupied, cash-careful, not-a-kid-anymore adult. I'm not sure what lack of cash has to do with anything but it always seems like a good thing to blame. Truthfully for a while, I blamed whatever I possibly could because I didn’t want to face the worst case scenario; that maybe I had lost my talent [for the record: I didn’t!].

What are your plans for the future?
I see blogging sticking around for quite a while; until maybe my life radically changes or I run out of things to say, the latter being never! I have lots of ideas for BlueShame, many of which I’m planning as we speak. Execution is my middle name so there will be some major things happening round Lady Blue’s parts. No pun intended. Outside of BlueShame, I’m finding work as a guest blogger and a writer for hire. The wheels are turning and it feels mighty good! And perhaps my discipline will kick in and I’ll finally get started on the suggestion I’ve been receiving forever: writing a novel. I have no real ideas, but I have decided I want to write an epistolary novel or a collective of vignettes. As far as poetry goes, it’s still my part time lover, and I wannna get back into it full force - but I'm the kind of person who's inspired by heart wrenching situations. Perhaps I'll sacrifice myself all in the name of art sometime soon. [Or perhaps not.] And when it comes to drawing, I want to venture into other mediums of artistic self expression. Painting for one, pencil and ink drawings, and more color in general. And you know... I think that’s my intention for my entire creative future, continuing to expand and explore and express and examine and rise rise rise… until I'm gone and have left my legacy.

Styling by the pictured, makeup & photography by Vanessa Galindo

You can catch more of Lady Blue right the hell here! www.KnownasBlue.com - visit often.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Introducing: Featured Talents

As I promised, I am rolling out some brand spanking new things for BlueShame this year. All for my dear dear readers [and to satiate my overactive brain].

I am launching a new element on the blog called "Featured Talents", a collection of individual interviews with all my friends and acquaintances who are "creatives" and doing something outstanding in the arts. These are extraordinary individuals who are majorly ambitious, supremely talented and actually good people underneath it all! [These people are also known as super duper rare breeds.] As a fellow creative who is passionate about other artists' work, my goal is to celebrate and discuss the sometimes chaotic life of raw talent, like no one has ever done before.

I've decided to introduce "Featured Talents" with an in depth look on a lady you all know and love to hate: Lady Blue. I know plenty of people probably think that's obnoxious, and to them I say, "You know I've never shied away from the obvious."

So be on the lookout for that my friends! You just might learn something.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

High Class

You didn't think they did it themselves, did you?

"You ain't gotta be rich, but fuck that, how we gon get around on ya bus pass?... Never test my patience... I'm high maintenance! High class, if you ain't rollin, bypass..."

Despite what you may all think, I'm pretty low maintenance. So low maintenance that I'm often asked if I'm high maintenance. When I shake my head no, it's usually followed up with "Are you sure?" But that's neither here nor there.

The fact is, it's a question that's often asked by men who are trying to avoid someone who's difficult, prissy, or an all around pain-in-the-ass. They may have had bad experiences with high maintenance women before, sucked in by the allure of their gleaming nails and shiny weaves. Or perhaps it was the heels they were teeter tottering in, or the way they barked at the man to "OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR!!!" Who really knows?

It seems most men prefer a low maintenance woman since those women; in their bare faced, baseball cap and sweatpant wearing glory aren't gonna be doing all that. Which is fine. But wait, it seems like we've come across a bit of hypocrisy. Although men seem to prefer low key women, they often express desires for "a dime, that's top of the line" with her "hair done, nails done, everythang did". Now I understand that I can't lump most ordinary men in with rappers as they are worlds apart. But when you look a little closer, most men either idolize or want to be rappers so I will take what rappers say as gospel.

Which is what I do most of the time anyway.


All I'm saying is you guys need to pick a side. Do you want to wait 3 hours or 5 minutes for your sweetie to get ready? Do you want to give her a sneaker allowance or a hair salon, nail salon, wax salon and dog salon allowance? Do you want her to want for nothing or screech requests at you like a wild banshee? Do you want people to say a wide eyed Damn! when they see your girl or a screw face Damn!? Figure out what you want!

I think my stance on spoiling and/or wining and dining women is well-known. I personally don't expect it, but it sure is nice. And if a man decides to treat me unlike the lady I am, well I don't go out of my way to reprimand him! No no no. I just never see him again.

Guess which of the 3 she paid the most for? And I don't mean the dress or accessories.


Now upkeep is where I fail to be a girly girl. Although I love my shoes [and bags... and jewelry... and my Duane Reade size stash of products] my routine is pretty basic. One of the sexiest outfits I think a girl can wear is a white tank and dark jeans. The "face" I put on is nothing more than a neutral gloss, a dusty rose blush and some liner and mascara for my eyes. My nails are often bare and my curls are usually slicked back or defined with a bit of hair stuff. I'm often in flats and jeans, nothing too hip hugging or cleavage displaying or body rocking. I step foot into any kind of salon about once every other season.

Why? Because I'd still like it to be a pleasant surprise when I do dress up, or when I do something different with my hair. Because I'd rather spend time, effort and money on other things. Because I'm lazy [I have never showered, washed my hair and shaved my whole body in under an hour. Never.] But ultimately because, believe it or not, I'm low maintenance. And because I believe that when you're genetically blessed, as I am, it doesn't take much to look sultry.

When a man finds a woman who is relatively low key about her looks, he can bet that she'll be relatively low key about everything else. Happy Dating! 

Stunna shoes

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Over it II

"Over it" was such a hit the first time, that I've decided to make it a regular feature. And even if it wasn't a hit, I'd still make it a regular feature because I love to complain. BlueShame's tagline isn't "rants and raves from the most lovely know-it-all" for nuthin' bitch! Enjoy.

This wave of hobo chic "style" :
Ugh I am SO over this poor excuse for appropriate attire. No you can't throw on some torn denim and a ratty overgrown sweater with a diamond encrusted bangle and call it a proper outfit. You cannot walk out the house rocking stringy bedhead hair, some Givenchy platform boots and a stained v-neck tee and call it dressing up. No you cannot take what Kate Moss and Ashley Olsen wear on "errand day" and wear it out to lunch with me. Why do you look like you smell like nicotine and cat urine?! Why do you look like you're in need of some body wash and a three bottles of detergent? You cannot do this! Well you can, but don't be surprised if I toss a quarter in your coffee cup 'cuz you looking like a broke ass bitch.

The overuse of sacred words:
Whenever someone calls me beautiful, I side eye them and their plain choice of words. Not because I'm not beautiful [although I prefer gorgeous, or the clincher "stunning"] but because that's usually the word basic broads and boys who have an immense thirst use to compliment marginal girls all over the internet. Oh my bad, I didn't realize a 3 [on a scale of 1-10] could qualify as any type of beauty. 'I love you' is another overused term. If you haven't moved heaven and earth or been through hell and high water for me, then there's no love there. If the sky that we look upon should tumble and fall or the mountains should crumble to the sea, and you're not standing by me, then you're as good as grass. Which is to say, useless. Unless you're a cow. I think.

Aspirational titles:
Girls with Model Mayhem profiles, who are under 5'7, with no agents and no discernibly unique features, sit your ass down! What the fuck are you doing? Setting yourself up for failure is what. I'm not as harsh on other aspirations ie: acting and music, solely because the standards aren't as stringent. But we all know within a glance if you can make it as a model mama - and you're can't. Amber Rose is a recent exception but she had to fuck Yeezy. Yeesh.
Now people might say "Well Lady Blue, what about you? You claim to be a blogger, socialite and con artist." And to them I say, what about me? I've been blogging for well over a year and a half, and not that lazy tumblr brand copy and paste shit so "blogger" holds true. Anyone who knows me knows I'm a social butterfly and I've got quite the roster, so "socialite" holds true as well. The only thing people might argue the validity of is the con artist claim. They're probably wondering what the hell I'm talking about. And to them I say, what you don't know won't kill ya *wink*

Men not offering their seats on the subway:
The men on my train in particular never get their asses up. They don't even get up for parents with children, as a matter of fact, in every case I've seen, it's a woman who will get up and offer her seat. Most times I'll grip the nearest pole and bear it, but there are times when my "Bite me" mentality kicks in and I ask "Can I sit down?!" about as nicely as "Fuck off!" When it really starts to grind my gears, I usually just blurt out "Would anyone mind getting up so I can sit down!" No question mark, just an exclamation point.  It seems to work just fine. People better recognize.

The weight of the world:
I'm a strong woman and strong women usually don't get help or empathy because everyone assumes that they can handle things on their own and they won't fall apart doing so. To sum it up, no one really worries about you because hey, you're doing your thing. On top of placing that unrealistic expectation on you, people place their loads and baggage and personal worries on you as well. They come to you for advice [which they usually don't take], they sob in your arms, they tell you their deepest and darkest desires and secrets. And what do you get in response when you're feeling down or overwhelmed? "Oh, you'll be fine. Things will work out. Everything will be alright."  All I have to say is, my shoulders hurt.

Sunday, January 9, 2011

Stressed?

 Lately, I've been feeling a little like this girl:


As well as a little under the weather *cough cough*


But then I remembered that I live in NYC:

Photo by Gursharon Mangat

And I have amazing legs:


Saturday, January 8, 2011

Marginal vs. Original

How to be great.

"I respect everybody's hustle, except those of you who hustle backwards."

Recently I have crossed paths with a lot of creative and artistic folk who have vehemently turned their backs on the 9 to 5 pyramid structure, choosing instead to run their own empires and become their own bosses. While I totally respect and applaud this stance [especially since I'm attempting to do the same], I've noticed that not everyone is moving at a progressive pace.

I've noticed that some people are talented in one area, but they need to be skilled in ten in order for them to succeed. [That's the truth about being a go-getter/entrepreneur - one field of expertise is not going to cut it!] I've noticed some people are lifetime novices, whereas others are truly on the right path. But the most pertinent observation I've made is that most of these do-it-yourself types are merely just, good.

What's wrong with being 'good' you say? In the world of pure talent, ambition and hustle: everything.

The rules are not as clear cut for craftsmen. In the jungles of LA and New York [and other meccas of innovation all over the world], we sweat and we cry and we pour our hearts and minds into our creations for countless laborious hours - hoping that the meritocracy we operate under will justly recognize and reward our sincere efforts.

The difference between being good and great can't really be measured in anything other than results. The difference between being good and being great is probably the difference between Katy Perry and Lady Gaga, the difference between Fabolous and Jay-Z. Good is the human heart, great is the human brain.

Think about it.

There are a myriad of ways in which people attempt to achieve success - a slim few make it while many many others fail. There are tons of individuals who attempt greatness and don't know what the hell they're doing. There are some who have an idea. And then there are the slim few who have a vision.

Via PostSecret

Here are the pointers: You need to have talent but you also need to have a clear vision of where you want to go, the knowledge of what's needed to get there, the drive to actually get those things done, and the eloquence to spread the word once you achieve them.

The Break Down:

Your Talent = The Foundation
Clear Vision = The Dream
Knowledge = The Tools
Drive = The Ambition
Eloquence = The Marketing

I realized I was a pretty gifted blabber who loved to write and so I started this here blog. When people would ask me what I did, I would hem and haw, and mumble that I had a small little blog that I worked on here and there. I realized that I was going to get asked that question a lot, so after sitting and contemplating about the details, I changed my meek tone to a confident one. I decided to change "I blog" to "I am a lifestyle blogger who blogs about her life, New York City and everything in between" and saw reactions immediately change. That's the kind of two second pitch that will get someone intrigued. When it dawned on me that I could make a living doing this, I began to avidly pursue paid writing opportunities in major mixed media.While I'm positive I have talent, drive and marketing skills; the knowledge of my journey and the definitive vision are a work in progress.

If you are missing any of those five pointers, hire someone to fill in the gaps or give up. Unless you're okay with being good and not great. Which in that case, you can go join the rest of them. And while you're there, say hi to Chanel Iman for me will ya?

Friday, January 7, 2011

NYC III


This passage is so true... It's called "How to live in New York City" but it sounds more like "What to expect when you move to New York City." I highlighted the parts that really resonated with me:

Move here when you’re 18 or 22, maybe even 24. Come from somewhere else-the north, south, west, Xanadu- and come to realize that everyone living in New York is a transplant. Even the ones who grew up on the Upper East Side end up moving into a place downtown, which, as you’ll soon discover, is like moving to a different city.

Discover the cruel and bizarre world of New York City real estate. End up spending an obscene amount of money on something called a broker’s fee, first and last month’s rent and a security deposit. Cry a little bit in the leasing office but remind yourself that you’re so happy to be here.

Picture hearing a man playing the saxophone outside your bedroom window. End up hearing a lot of sirens instead. Figure it’s okay because it’s New York and you’re still so happy to be here.


Go out to bars in the Lower East Side because the Internet told you so. Fall in love with a bar called, Max Fish, and always stay out till four in the morning. Eat a falafel and have someone pay for a cab back to your apartment. Watch the sun start to rise while going over the Williamsburg Bridge and feel like your life is becoming some kind of movie.

Eat bad pizza but trick yourself into believing it’s good because it’s made in New York. Do the same thing with bagels and sex.

Meet people who will be your best friends for three or four months. They’ll help you transition into city life and take you to weird bars in Murray Hill. It will be like the blind leading the blind but once you get a firm grasp on things, you can stop returning their phone calls.

Watch your life in New York go through phases. Spend a summer in Fort Greene with a lover and get to know the neighborhood and its rhythms. Once the fling ends, forget the blocks, parks and restaurants ever existed and don’t return unless you have to.

You can read the rest here. 

YSL

The Eve Sayn Lah-rahn Tribute Sandal... *drool* 
 I've been wanting these bad bitches for a long time now. I originally craved the brown ones as I pictured pairing them with an array of neutral yet colorful summer dresses. But then I saw the red shoe and I was like... Come to me sweet thing, come to mama so she can hold you.

Not to mention the necks that would break strutting the streets in these. Oh New York, how your streets are undeniable runways for the shoe-obsessed and well-coiffed fashionistas of this city.

These puppies will set you back a cool $760. YSL should really consider in layaway plans.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

J.Cole



"I'm trynna get beside ya like the number 9, dime." I've had this song stuck in my head and on blissful repeat for about a week. By a week, I mean two. It seems I'm a sucker for swift piano notes [especially ones that remind me of the opening notes of Biggie's "One More Chance" ...listen closely]; and husky slightly southern yet new york tinged accents huffing the words "So! fine". If a man told me I was summertime fine, I'd propose marriage... because well... I do love summer.


I love "In the morning" but why did Drake come with such a weak verse though? Are you telling me the man who came up with: Drizzy back up in this thing, I’m ready, whats happeninnnnnn couldn't spit something better than some mess about stallions?

Saturday, January 1, 2011

Past & Present

My favorite photo from the Back to the Future collection

So I spent my first few hours of 2011 sledgehammering my liver with copious amounts of alcohol editing content and backing up my blog posts. As I skimmed each one I noticed a lot of common occurrences.

I feel like I need to explain the old me. Age 21 and beyond wasn't so cringe-worthy but most of what I wrote before June 2009 was the "work in progress" me.

Here's a few things you should know about my prior two years of blog posts:

I was slightly obsessive compulsive and pretty particular about everything: my apartment, my friends, the direction my life was headed in, my haircuts [and those are just a few of the topics I covered].

I just crush a lot. I must have mentioned like 5 or 10 guys. In real life I met many more than that but I guess those were the few I chose not to publicly embarrass. Damn.

I was coming out of a depressed state, and was still finding myself and figuring out what I needed and wanted out of my life. So I threw myself into lots of random situations, and repeated the same mantras/dreams obsessively, and read a lot of books, and had a lot of pep talks.

2009 was a huge learning experience and a transformation period. And all in all 2010 was good, with the second half being quite good!

Here's what you should know about me for 2011:

"I swear I care about everything but these bitches."

"Not only am I fly, I'm fuckin not playin."

"I talk a lotta shit, I swear I mean it all."

"Baby I'm sorry but, I'm sexy. And all I want you to do is just bless me."

"I know you seen me on the video [true], I know you heard me on the radio [true]. But you still don't pay me no attention, listening to what your girlfriends mention." Trueeee... The only thing I'm eager to do is ball.

"Let's go to sleep in Paris, and wake up in Tokyo."

Basically acting cho-choozy and fabulous to the hundredth degree. It's time y'all.

I'm happy because I'm truly starting 2011 in a better spot than ever before. I've got a mini home, good friends and tangible career aspirations - on top of being my own boss for the first time ever.

Diaries/blogs can be a little jarring because you get to see how much you've grown and how quickly you've changed.

But it's all good. All good.