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.

My Illustrious Fascination with Stupidity

In real life, I’m kinda serious. I can be on the silly side, and on another side, I can be like, whatever. I think, and of course I’ve given this serious, meditative thought, but I believe I’ve a fascination with stupidity. Now, I don’t do silly things like breathe heavily into the phone to my exes, mow the lawn in a bikini or none of that. It’s been a thought but time should be cherished and not wasted, which doesn’t match up with my gravitation to reality TV.

Yesterday, my sister was telling me the show Oprah produces on her network, Iyanla Fix My Life, is looking for folks to fix. Once upon a time ago, I was cool with this concept but on the serious side, I told her I’d have to be paid to air my dirty laundry; i.e. a reality show. Nobody’s getting all up and inside of my business for free, know what I’m saying? I also told her any issues I felt I had, I’m gonna go use my insurance to get worked on. If that’s not logical, you tell me what is, okay?

I, folks, feel like if anybody’s gonna profit off my issues, it should be me. If my issue is what’s making the show, that means I’m the star, however foolish I’ve been but I should be handsomely compensated to keep somebody else’s business profitable. Now, I will say, I like that show, as I do Dr. Phil. Having been a dedicated follower, I’m problem-free, other than the fact that I watch reality TV. It’s a bittersweet dilemma and I wonder if they’d encourage me to stop watching them.

Now, believe it or not, folk tell me, “Totsy, you’re so smart,” and I’ll think, Yeah, right. In the times we’re in now, along with my reality, smart has little to do with opening a book but rather, if you can get on TV and catapult your success beyond a yearly raise. It’s not sitting in a cubicle and working overtime, which you only see half of. Or going to work when you’re sick ’cause these days, your job is dangled over your head like a bouquet of Hershey’s Kisses. Uh uh, folks, it’s all about finding your inner fool and acting on it, which my dear folks, I’m giving serious thought to.

 

(Rolling Eyes) Why Is She Onstage Now?

 

If you’ve been visiting Totsymae dot com for awhile, you know I’m a faithful Dr. Phil watcher. I know. He’s a showboat. Kinda rude. Sometimes arrogant. And powders down his bald spot. That’s okay. Every one of us has that potential, so let’s move past all that, can we?

Folks, if you don’t know already, I’ve been wanting to sit in Robin’s spot in the audience. I mean, first of all, I’m not sure why she’s there other than to keep other women folk off her man. I get it but as far as I’m concerned, she can wait for him backstage after the show’s over. As it is though, she’s taking up a seat in the audience, which could rightly be mine if I were to go to Cali.

Now, I’m not wanting Dr. Phil, just the seat, okay? I don’t wanna have to go all the way to Cali, wait in line and the last seat I could’ve had is occupied by her.  Folks, I wouldn’t wanna commence to duking it out with Robin over no chair she shouldn’t be occupying. For that hour, Dr. Phil belongs to us and so do those chairs. Why ever does she need to be in his face ALL the time? Are there insecurity issues she needs to go to therapy about? I mean really, Robin!

In addition to the audience chair, folks, Robin’s now onstage running off at the mouth as if she’s somebody we wanna hear. We don’t, do we? I thought not. Matter of fact, I should be onstage. I can talk just as much nonsense as her. Plus, Dr. Phil wouldn’t have to come home to me after hanging out with me ALL day and roll his eyes. You know how he does it when he’s sick of his guests onstage. I’m pretty sure Robin gets the same business after going to work with him, eating breakfast together, knocking on his dressing room door, walking on the set with him, eating dinner, and then going to bed. It’s ridiculous.

I understand that video has absolutely nothing to do with this post. The same applies to Robin on the Dr. Phil Show, okay?