these are my confessions

not really. just some things i've admitted to myself in recent days.

1. I don’t like blueberries

I know blueberries are supposed to be good for you, and for a person like me who is living with Type 2 diabetes, they are one of the lower-glycemic fruits that I can get away with eating regularly without worrying about a sugar spike.

I recently ate a cup of yogurt with blueberries, strawberries, and granola, and I realized I do not like the taste or texture of whole blueberries.

I will fuck up a blueberry pop tart and even hot blueberry pie with a side of fresh whipped cream or ice cream, yet actual whole blueberries in my yogurt almost sent me over the edge the other day, and I realized I should just be honest with myself about not liking those shits.

The same goes for raspberries and blackberries if we are being honest. Raspberry lemonade? Yes. Mushy-ass raspberries or blackberries? No. Thank you.

Strawberries, however, will always and forever be that girl.

2. I love salads

My default when I don’t feel like cooking is making delicious salads. I’ll start with a bed of Trader Joe’s Cruciferous Crunch, add some sliced cucumber, tomato, avocado, a protein (usually chicken thighs, the best part of the chicken), and either Green Goddess or a vinaigrette salad dressing.

If I’m feeling extra spicy, I may add rice to it for some bulk.

I eat a lot of salad. All the roughage keeps me extremely regular, and I feel satisfied for a long time.

I’m going to start sharing some of my creations.

trader joe’s cruciferous crunch, two person cucumbers, an avocado, slicked grape tomatoes (they are buried it seems), chopped sous vide chicken thighs. it was good!

3. Books set in the UK don’t appeal to me

I can’t explain this one because I’m not sure I understand it. When I read the description of a book, as soon as I see a keyword that lets me know it’s in some part of the UK, I’m like, “Nope.”

There has to be something compelling in the description to make me want to choose one of these books.

Sorry to my British friends. I love y’all forever. I don’t know why the books don’t do it for me.

4. I can’t stop adding books to my TBR

I will not elaborate. OK, maybe a little bit. Between having Kindle Unlimited, Libby (with 8 library cards registered!), being active on Goodreads, and getting a daily email from Bookbub, I am constantly finding new books I want to read later.

5. I knew that nigga didn’t want shit but attention

When I responded to his text with a phone call, I knew that nigga didn’t want shit but my attention. He wanted access to me, and he attempted to get it using methods he thought would work, and while they may have worked on older versions of me, they didn’t work this time.

I was skeptical, and I asked direct questions because I knew the answers to them would be vague and feeble. I knew all these things, and I did it anyway because I wanted confirmation for myself. I also wanted him to know I was aware of the game he was playing, and I think I made that point with the responses I gave to him.

He thought he was in, but when he realized he was on the other side of my Do Not Disturb policy, it bothered him. He wanted unfettered access.

He feels entitled to me, my time, and my attention.

My love is the garage within which he rebuilds the brokedown engine of his fragile self-esteem, and as soon as he gets it running again, he peels off and is on to the next dalliance.

I broke that cycle this time. I didn’t let him in. I even told him that he always comes to me when he needs that boost. He tried to deny that’s what he was looking for this time, but the anger and tension in his voice as he said it revealed the truth buried under all his bullshit.

I wrote that blog entry knowing he was going to read it. He is always lurking, reading my page, seeing what I’m saying and doing. I knew he would read this, and I knew it would make him feel a type of way, and I knew it was likely to make him stay away for good.

So far, he has, but even if he tries to come back again — as he is wont to do — there’s no space for him anymore.

I’m proud of myself for breaking that cycle, and I am finally admitting to myself that although I valued a friendship with him, he didn’t feel the same way about me.

I was an outlet for him. I was a safe space for him when he felt beat up by the world. I offered help, resources, and anything I could think of to let him know I cared.

He never reciprocated. I gave him a pass back then, but ain’t no passes now.

I’m glad he’s scurried off to whatever corner he’s hiding in.

I previously said I hope he gets the help and healing he needs.

Now? I don’t give a fuck, and I’m OK with admitting that as well.

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Miscellany

• Library study rooms are the perfect place to post up on a Saturday afternoon so you can get some reading, writing, and work done. I highly recommend it.

  • There was hardly anyone wearing a mask in the library yesterday, and I was aghast. People just out here raw-dogging the air like it’s nothing.

• We finally got some rain in Los Angeles. It started raining hard last night and then again this morning. I’m praying it helps with the fires.

  • We haven’t had rain in the city since May of last year.

  • I don’t know where my umbrella is.

• I’m watching this series on Netflix called Younger, and it’s making me think a lot about ageism and the impact it has on women over 40. I was talking to my friend Genetta about it, and she suggested I watch The Substance with Demi Moore because it has a lot of the same themes.

  • I want to talk more about this.

  • As we were discussing American Primeval, Genetta also recommended that I watch Conclave, which is on Peacock, so I’m adding that to my list.

• I have thoughts on the Target DEI statement, and even more on DEI as a whole, and I’ll be sharing them on The Judge Report soon.

• I have another rant in me about the pervasive lack of media literacy, and I’ll talk about that soon as well.

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I just smoked a joint.

I’m going to chill and get some writing done.

I hope your Sunday is great.