Ending A Relationship

"Visual Sounds No.1" Mixed Media on Paper. All Rights Reserved 2014. Totsymae.

“Visual Sounds No.1″ Mixed Media on Paper. All Rights Reserved 2014. Totsymae.

On Tuesday of this week, my life will be different, folks. It’s gonna be intellectually stimulating with creative immersion, saving me $120.00 a month. I know. That’s a nice little chunka change. Where is that whopping sum of money coming from, you ask so curiously. Well, I’m finally boycotting cable companies. along with getting rid of my home phone. Nobody calls me on it anyhow. And there are only so many channels that can be watched. Not that I try to watch’em all. Bye-bye Ripoffcablecompanies, hello $1440 a year. That’s how much I’ll be saving.

I spent 45 minutes on the line trying to convince these folk why they were no good for me. That the relationship was over.

“I see where I can get you down to $154.00 a month for the plan you currently have,” says Ripperoffer.

“Yeah, that’s what I started off with and now I’m at $200.00. What you’re offering is temporary. I need something long term that’s gonna benefit me.”

“What channels do you watch now?” probes Ripperoffer.

“I watch Bravo, OWN…I watch’em all.”

“Do you watch sports channels?”

“No.”

“One moment, as I look in my system.”

Honey please, look right on.

“Will $150.00 work for you? What’s comfortable for you?”

“Look, there’s no promotion you can give me long enough or steep enough to retain my services.”

“Oh, so you’re looking for a permanent promotion?” Ripperoffer chuckled.

“Yes,” I said, with a didn’t you know kinda tone.

“Well, we can offer you DirecTV.”

“Yeah. I had them before and they go up after the promotion. Look, I’ll give up TV before I continue paying these prices.”

That brought an end to Ripperoffer trying to swindle me. Now, I realize there’ll be some withdrawal symptoms. Maybe I’ll resort to scratching my belly or walking in circles until I get back to that place I used to be of not watching television. Maybe I’ll get smarter by reading relevant books, writing a Scandal-like TV show, run a tortoise marathon or sail the Pacific on a self-made boat. The possibilities are endless, folks.

What have you gotten rid of that bettered your life and whatnot?

Oprah and Her Disciples

"Oprah" Watercolor on Paper. Copyright 2012 Totsymae

“Oprah” Watercolor on Paper. Copyright 2012 Totsymae

No, this is not an Oprah-bashing blog post. I, rather, like Oprah. I’m not an Oprah fanatic, however. I’m too practical and level-headed to be fawning over her. I reserve all that for Harry Connick, Jr, Johnny Depp and, well, honestly, Denzel’s kinda fallen off the hot radar for me. I’m not sure why other than to say I’m not interested anymore. The love has gone stale, you might say.

Well, I was sitting here watching Dr. Phil and it got me to thinking about all the folk Oprah’s put on the map for us to follow. You have to admit, Oprah keeps good company. Not with us but us with her. Oprah’s, after all, the modern guru of self-help. And all the folk she’s put on the map wants to help you in some sorta way.

Suze Orman wants you pinch your pennies and squeeze  breakfast juice from them. Dr. Phil wants to rearrange your psyche and sell books by his son’s, Jay’s, publishing company. Iyanla Vanzant will come to your home and fix your life right at your kitchen table. Rachael Ray has the amazing gift of cooking you up a meal and talking your head off at the same time. She’s just amazing, folks. And last, but certainly not least, Dr. Oz will fix your heart and send you into an anxiety attack with his rushed speech and sense of urgency. Doc, I’m really gonna need you to slow down before watching you again, okay?

When you think about it, Oprah is…like…Jesus. She’s got herself a flock and her flock has a flocka folk following them. On Facebook. Twitter. Instagram. You name it. She took Jesus at his word and became fruitful by spreading the good word. I mean, her word must be good to have all these followers…like…Jesus. Verily, verily I say unto you, folks, I reckon if you’re a follower, you’re…ahem…a…worshipper.

I’m not sure how many disciples Oprah has. Probably twelve. I’m not rightly sure. You tell me, okay? And you know what else? All of Oprah’s disciples write books, same as what Jesus’ disciples did.

Look, I’m not here to judge ye, throw stones or anything of that nature. It just so happens that God spake these words unto me to put it out to you, alright?

Guilty Pleasures

All Rights Reserved 2014. Totsymae.com

All Rights Reserved 2014. Totsymae.com

I can’t tell you how ecstatic I am that Friday’s here. I hope the weekend draaaaags by. I’m serious. I stopped by Aldi’s to buy a weekend snack of Tortillas and French Onion Yogurt Dip. I’m not having any mercy on these chips and dip either, okay? I worked hard and hey, this is my treat to myself. Plus, as I speak, there’s a low rumble of thunder outside and I’m gonna tuck myself under this afghan I made and do whatever I feel like. Well, I can’t do but so much sitting down and under a blanket but I’m okay with that.

Too, I’ve bought a few graphic novels to chill out with. I’m gonna draw, sleep, watch TV and enjoy the rain, if it does that. I must also tell you folks, I’m not making too many moves on account of this morning, I caught a back cramp. I know. How do bad things happen to good folk like me and you. You and I. Whatever. This is not an English class. Well, everybody gets an unfortunate chance in life and I have to say, this cramp thing is one of mine.

All I was doing was walking over to turn off the lamp this morning so I could go work that job. You know, the one I get paid for. Well, I stopped dead in my tracks and eventually made it to the switch, out the door to the little vehicle I drive all of 12 minutes to get to that there job and walked around all day like a piece of cardboard. I had to plan how to use the restroom, how to bend over to pick up dropped stuff and all these other inconvenient thoughts on account of this back thing. I was too scared to sneeze even.

Anyhow, I made out okay. The chips and dip’s gonna make me feel better.

 

sun

I know. What does that sun have to do with anything I’m about to say? Absolutely nothing. Forgive me. I’m working on working on trying to blog again. This is a busy time for me. I know it sounds like I’m doing seasonal work akin to being a retail clerk on Black Friday or working the grill at Waffle House after church and whatnot but I tell you, folks. It really does feel like it.

The other day, I was so sore on account of sitting on my tusche and blogging with you folks for days at a time. I can say it’s your fault I was so outta shape and whatnot…Well, why don’t I go ahead and be honest. It was your fault. I’ve never really been in the blame game business. Though, for this, I’m not taking responsibility either. I’ve got enough responsibilities on me, so I’m passing the buck on this one.

You’ll be proud to know I’ve been productive. Productive doing what, you ask as you scratch your head. Well, about a week ago, I sat myself down to get my hair cut. As a result of not liking the cut, and don’t laugh folks, ’cause my esteem is wrapped up in it, but I’m wearing a full blown wig now. Sounds silly and so not me but it’s me. I have to tell you though. I don’t do too well with it by the end of the day. Soon as I feel I’ve driven far enough from work so no colleagues will see me, off comes the wig. Hell, my scalp’s itching now just to write this.

I’ve also been taking line dance classes with a group of senior citizens. You see, my mom teaches the class and I must tell you, while I don’t have two left feet, they do manage to get tangled up still, on occasion. It’s all good though. My memory of dance steps has always been real bad but I’ve got it going on, to be honest. I’m the youngest one there and I also have to add, the coolest.

I could go on and on about how my life is taking off and I’m on the radar for celebrity. Like, how I’m so on the move with this new wig and all but I’m not the bragging type.

Whatever Happened To…

tree

 

Good day, folks. I bet you’re saying to yourself, “Totsy’s only here today on account of being bored and whatnot.” Well, you’ve pretty much hit the nail dead center on the head. You may also be asking yourself, “Did Totsy ever get her laptop back or will I have to buy her a new one?” Your last question may be, “What the heck happened to Beatrice’s comics? Who does she think she is, giving us a teaser and taking away the tickle?” Well, I appreciate your passion and all. My sympathies and heart go out to you.

To address your first question, or rather, assumption, I am somewhat bored. To explain my brief absence and to sum up the answers to your inquiries, I was working in the studio as a co-lead to a Katy Perry song but after about 10 seconds or so, they called off the deal, asked me to leave. When I refused, I ended up in the hospital with a large imprint on my bottom in the shape of a shoe. I’m so utterly confused  why this all happened and not knowing has me off kilter and whatnot. Know what I mean? Such a request has been a real head-scratcher but I aim to get some answers to my whys and whatnots. You feel me?

And yeah, I got my laptop back recently. I’ll resume with Beatrice on Sunday.

The Dark Side of Artists

Around the MoonLast week, I saw the Jean Michel Basquiat movie. Andy Warhol was in it and in it, he died (from a botched surgical procedure). It never showed Basquiat’s tragic end but there was a blurb at the end that let viewers know how he transitioned. Though, you pretty much got to see how he’d end up by watching his extracurricular activities.

Always a heavy drinker, Jackson Pollock was in a car accident with his mistress and that’s how he transitioned. Mark Rothko led a life in deep depression and shortly after reuniting with his estranged wife, he slashed his wrists after drugging himself, or vice versa. Of course, you all know Vincent Van Gogh cut off his ear. Around 2007, there was an article, and I can’t remember where I came upon it, but it was said to be likely that Van Gogh had autism. I don’t believe that. I simply believe he was depressed from being a struggling artist.

Anyway, I did a few paintings along the style of Frank Stella, like the one above. As I placed each one on my kitchen table, the thought came to me that I should do my place mats in this style. None of the four pieces I did are the same and I rather like that since variety is one of my favorite flavors. I’ll show them to you when I’m all done. It’s a little sad that lay folk give little or no thought to artistic contributions.

I hope you folks have enriched your homes with original works that are meaningful to you. Probably the lives of these men folk and art mean more to me than you but I wanted to share anyway since it’s my blog and all.

In the meantime, I think I can use this computer to commence with Sincerely, Beatrice. We’ll see.

 

We’re All Controlled by Devices

devices

Being that I’m without my main source of accessing the internet, I thought I’d let you know that I’m feeling rather reflective, and I reckon, a tad resentful. While I’m at it, just throw some haterade in the mix too. Maybe the Amish are on to something by living in an analog world after all.

You see folks, we’ve become the robots that used to get built in science labs. I know you were fearful clones would come and snatch your job, man, date your daughter or whatever else you hold so dear to your heart but I, folks, think you should be fearful of your dependency on devices. Just think. You’re now a part of the largest segment of the world’s population who’s controlled by a piece of equipment that cost anywhere from 29.95 to 999.00. You’re also teaching your children to be dependent and undermining the value of social skills necessary to interact with a real human.

In the palm of your hands, you hold a device that accesses you entry to any place in the world. And if you’re that bored mid-lifer, you may be prone to forget your spouse and kids to meet that hot thing at your local coffee shop after a few picture exchanges . Or wherever. You’re grown, so you know where I’m going with this.

You experience anxiety, hot flashes and all manner of side effects if you’re not attached to a device. Your day is just different. Kinda surreal, to be accurate. When the tech department can’t fix that disposable device after it’s gone haywire from overuse, it sends you into a rage and you’re emotionally drained after you’ve frightened the unlucky agent who happened to clock in at your critical hour to do his job.

You’re the android you never thought possible. You’re the true machines (built by Steve Jobs) and overnight campers who don’t brush your teeth come morning time when the newest iPhone hits the market.

Man, I miss my Toshiba.

Mixed Emotions

Mixed Emotions

I’m having technical issues, folks. My laptop’s been admitted to Computer Community Hospital, so this is serious. My other laptop, I had to order a battery for, so a friend let me borrow  this one. With all that filling your ear and whatnot, that means I have to pause on Sincerely, Beatrice ’cause I don’t have the same software for laying out the comics or for enhancing my photos. It was hard enough to post this. Just so you know, I didn’t borrow the computer to blog. I work using the computer, so this is kinda a necessity.

In the meantime, I don’t have a whole heck of a lot to say. I was, however, feeling a little Pollocky (Jackson Pollock, that is) over the weekend in painting this piece for someone.

Once Upon My Abaya

Google Image

Google Image

Good gawdy mighty, folks! It’s hot down south. How hot, asks the chorus. It’s hotter than deacons looking down women folks bosom, okay? How hot again, sang the chorus. It’s so hot, it’s hot, alright? I’m gonna hide myself in this here house and be a bat. You know, come out at night. I’m careful too, considering I have a cousin dealing with skin cancer. It’s been a rough patch for him and he’s only 24, around there somewhere.

I was thinking maybe I should slip my abaya on but I don’t know how well I could pull off being a Muslim here. Not that I’m gonna be praying to Allah five times a day and whatnot. I won’t do that. I just need to hide myself from the rays. And I’mma tell you folks, when I went over to Saudi coupla years ago to work, I didn’t know much about nothing. The first time I wore that abaya, all I had underneath was my undies. I’m serious.

You see, the fabric, eventhough it’s black, is real thin. Like a thin polyester nightgown. Oh, I was real cool underneath. I was so wrong in wearing it though ’cause I was s’pose to have clothes on underneath. I was chilling under there like a natural born popsicle, okay? Then, a strange thing happened to me at the airport.

My first landing place was Riyadh, okay? I just had on a long skirt and my arms covered. Hey, far as I knew, I fell within the dress code. Then, the driver took me shopping for my abaya. I bought two. Well, not knowing I was supposed to be clothed under there, I get my behind to the airport and in the midst of handling my luggage and all, the darn thing goes to unsnapping so damn fast. I was like, whooooaaaa, what’s going on here? And why’s this just happening to me? Folks, it was almost a strip show up in that airport, alright?

I tell you what. While I went and learned a whole lot, I don’t miss it. I had a hellified time getting outta there. I don’t wanna go no place where I need an exit visa to get out, okay? I’m all about that get up and go, you feel me? Shooooot…Anyhow, I may just put on my abaya to ward off the heat. Did I mention on my way back, one was ripped as I was going down the escalator? I’m telling you, that escalator tried to rip the clothes off my backside, you hear me? Good thing I had clothes on underneath, huh.

 

 

The Art of Randomness

All the Way Home2I had some technical issues making this image, so I had to make extreme modifications. I hope you can appreciate that but if you don’t, there’s not a whole lot I can do about it.

You see, I worked on this visual a few days ago and my frustration with it prompted me to clean my room. It’s so immaculate, you can eat off the dresser and you’d probably enjoy ’cause it’s rather pretty. Speaking of rooms, if you recall, and you probably don’t if you don’t think about me that way, which is fine, but I said I was decorating this year. If I tell you all I bought was a valance to hang in the kitchen window for all my grand notions of decorating, I’d be ashamed…Folks, I’m ashamed. I have multiple excuses to offer but I won’t give any. To be real honest, I don’t even feel like talking about it but I felt obligated on some level since going with this visual.

Being as such, I owe you an apology for talking about nothing strongly related to world affairs, the health crisis or how hard Sherry Shephard’s trying to sell her wig line on The View. If you’re like me, I do like some level of consistency and I’m rightly bothered that Friday brings day 4 of a wig change-up on her head this week. I don’t know about you but there are times when I do sweat the small stuff, even if it has absolutely nothing to do with me. I know I’m not alone in my grievances ’cause if I was, we wouldn’t have as many talk shows as we do.

Far as I’m concerned, there was no better talk show that aired than Phil Donahue. Maybe there’s something about me and Phils. I do like Dr. Oz too and used to watch him faithfully but he started giving me anxiety. You see, I get excited calmly, if that makes any sense, and I couldn’t take all his hyperactivity. I know he’s passionate and all but damn. I don’t wear anxiety well at all but I don’t wanna talk about that either ’cause it may excite me and I don’t feel much like being that either.

A Question from Genesis

burger with watermarkHave you noticed, and perhaps you have ’cause I’m no genius, that blogs are like Burger King? You can have it your way or not at all, if you’re vegetarian. Personally, I like that concept but some kinda way, I’ve not been lucky enough to have it ALL my way.  I’m gonna ask you this since it’s on my mind but first, I want you to also ponder Genesis. You know, Adam and Eve.

They had everything going for them and we, of course, can see that in hindsight. Wasn’t like we were there to stop’em but you get what I’m saying. Anyhow, I was sitting in my car today and told Little Totsy, “I sho’ nuff wish I could sing.” Just as quickly as I thought that, I was jolted with the thought that I should be thankful I’m even still around and to appreciate what I can do. You see, Adam and Eve weren’t thankful either. I mean, I know that Eden was designed for them to do exactly as they did since they were made in the likeness of God and whatnot. But let’s erase that, okay?

In essence, my desire to sing, which will never happen in this life if you could hear me, is a form of complaining. I probably can’t sing ’cause I’d be arrogant or a whining diva or have some kinda addictive behavior. So, I came to the conclusion that I am who I am ’cause I am. It’s that simple.

Like Adam and Eve, I became ashamed on account of how I was thinking. But thankfully, ’cause I was outside and driving my vehicle, sitting at a red light, I already had clothes on. The question I wanna ask is have you ever wondered how Adam got his get-up from Eve after she stitched up the clothes. I figure, being southern and all, she did the sewing. Or am I the only one? And if my imagining is right, how did she wind up getting his fig leaves to him since they were ashamed?…Hmmm.