The art of falling off.......

Anyone that follows me on Facebook is aware of the fuckery in my stats. Some for humors sake, but all in all centered in honesty. On a cold fall day in late October like the cheap psuedo writer I am I walked into Starbucks with my laptop, and enough change for one birthday cake pop, and a venti blond roast. While walking in I noticed a ridiculously huge billboard promoting a performance by Ashanti in a casino up north. My initial response? To jump on my laptop and post about how her upcoming Ho-Chunk Casino performance was the ultimate fall off. Damn.....my girl has officially fell all the fuckin way off. Even shook my head and giggled a little bit. About six weeks later I found myself asking to punch out early so I could find an outfit to see Ms. Ashanti in all her glory. Needless to say I had to eat my fucking words and suppress my childish hater-filled giggles. Even if she had fallen off she convinced a self-proclaimed non-fan such as myself to pay my hard-earned money to see what she had in-store. Hell I really only wanted to hear her sing, "The Way That I Love You". Yep I paid fifty bucks to hear one song LOL. Not bad for a chick who had fallen off. Which made me ask....really what does it mean to fall off? Who makes that decision? Do we really know another's struggle?  

    Well first what does it mean to "fall off"? Falling off is the term used for someone who was at the top of their "game" (dope, entertainment, sports, etc). Top dog. The best. The most popular. And fast forward is a footnote. Now when their name is brought up it usually is followed by, "What happened to them?" I classify plenty as a fall off: Allen Iverson, and 50 cent to name a few, but what they hell do I really know?

   One day while being messy with my ex's new girlfriend we somehow found ourselves in a HER end initiated Facebook inbox argument. I was being asshole me. Antagonizing the hell out of the girl merely because I could. She contacted me asking me about the "relationship" between me and my ex knowing that he was man handling her snatch while he and I were still together. She deserved what pain and lies she received and I found a certain amount of humor and vindication in her hurt and anger, so I replied with responses that only added fuel to the fire. I was winning messy bitch points at their finest until she responded with a message that read: Who the fuck are you...you ain't got shyt. You're just a waitress. In hindsight I could've  told her that I have never made less than $35,000 a year as a waitress, that I have never had a bill late unless it's because I'm just irresponsible and it's pretty easy for me to make 175 in tips, not work a full eight hour shift and still find time for her "boo" to face dive on my clitoris. Instead I moved onto other insults.

   Days later...that convo still bothered me a bit. Not because of the sheer messiness of it all, but because I felt as if I had fallen off. Had I? Nope. I'm still doing what I want to do, how I want to do it, and taking care of home with it. But it bothered me that a woman who didn't know anything about me outside of what my lying ex had told her and what she learned while lurking on my social media sites had made a twisted assumption about me. Suddenly it became bigger than her. Who else felt like I was nothing because of my job? Shiddd I make good money!!! I wanted to somehow prove that...till reality hit. What was making me feel a need to show someone who meant nothing to me the balance in my checking account? Did it really matter what anyone thought? If I had fallen off in no way would she be of assistance to pick me up. I had to reprogram my mind. She had no real understanding of me or my life. An outsider looking in and seeing very little of the picture. No different than the judging I was doing of others. Which probably meant I too had no fucking clue what I was talking bout.

  On a freezing cold December 7th night I ran all over the city completing the ultimate concert outfit, and creating the perfect face of makeup. I got ready for the concert while listening to my best of Ashanti mix. My cousin and I got in the car and drove a painstaking, scenery lacking two and a half hours and bounced up and down with teenage excitement the entire time. When she hit that stage I jumped up and screamed like everyone else. I closed my eyes and drifted back to past hurt when she sang, "Rain On Me", damn near cried when she belted out, "The Way That I love you". And somehow magically knew her new unreleased tracks. When the lights went up and everyone left the theater I was reluctant to go. Not bad for what I classified as a fall off. As I did the math...she managed to pack that theater making no less than $20,000 that night. My $175.00 a day doesn't compare, but just like myself she damn sure hasn't fell off. If that's what it means. I can take that. Hell sign me up for one right now. Or I can erase it from my vocabulary altogether.

The Demise of the Ride or Die Bitch

We all know her. She will rip a weave out the "other chicks" head about her man, bail him out with her gas bill money, hide the white from the feds for him, try to talk her Nana or Big Momma into putting the house up for his bail, she's there every Sunday morning for jail/prison visits, or she'll give him her tax refund to "pursue his dream" or even worse "to flip". We all know her. She is in it for the long haul. She can be a hood rat, a college educated sister, white or black. Hell she can be you or me. She's the main chick, the "one", the "wifey". The Big Tymers called her "a Hot Girl". I tend to love the Ruff Ryders term for her, "A Ride or Die Bitch". It was a song by The Lox feat. Eve. I remember it being my jam my freshman year of college. That is before I really paid attention. Here's a refresher...........

I look back on it now and all I like is Eve's makeup

ride or die chick	613 up, 77 down
	A chick that ain't afraid to be down with her man she'll do anything her man needs her to do.

 

Anywho. Flashback to Early 2000. At the time I was an eighteen year old college student. Over 600 miles away from home. For the first time in my life I became a hot commodity in my little Mississippi college town. Around me were scores of beautiful, smart young black women. And a very slim amount of attractive, smart, young black men. I believed a woman had to PROVE herself to be a keeper. At that time I saw nothing wrong with the Ride or Die Chick mentality. Not only was it ok. Unfortunately I became one. I wasn't just one for one man in my life, but many.

 I cooked, cleaned, paid all the bills, bought his clothes, bought his weed, picked him up, dropped him off, paid OUR way, and fought bitches that "compromised" my position. Don't get it twisted, I wasn't ho'ing around. I was proving my dedication to a man I thought I loved. Later I see most of these situations weren't even about love. It was more so about my relationship validating me. If I kept him that meant I was worthy. If he left it proved what I believed....that I wasn't good enough. And even though in the back of my mind I felt like an idiot. I felt like the end justified the means. He would eventually be my husband. Needless to say,  I am not nor have I ever been married. So not only did I not get the ending I would have hoped for. I was left with a naked ring finger and a lot of heartache. Did I put two and two together and got four? Yes. But did I stop immediately? No. It wasn't something I could stop cold turkey. It seemed almost ingrained in me.

Mrs. T.I aka Tiny, being comforted by Monica as they leave TIP's last court hearing before heading back for 11 more months of prison time

But it did eat away at me. Giving one hundred per cent of myself became a full-time job. More than I could handle. Especially when I realized in most cases I hadn't received fifty per cent in return. At one point I felt like I was nothing. My sanity was holding on by a thread. In 2005 I felt my ex was slipping from my hands and there was nothing I could do about it. He demanded that I cut my hair. So the day before my grandmother's funeral I cut off all my hair. To pacify and keep a man not worth keeping. To be honest I hated my short hair. It was hot. But not me. The hair cut was an extension of him.. It just happened to be that I was wearing it. Due to the fact that he lived next door to my salon he kept tabs on when I got it done. As weird as this sounds he wasn't very controlling. At the time I did it willingly all in the mindset of keeping him.

Most women don't realize that they take on the ride or die mentality. We can't make these men seem like the bad guys. Yes they can be sometimes, or good guys that make bad choices, or just current bad choices to be with. We as women however make the choice to stay, support, and pacify these men in there behaviors. I slowly began to realize that this wasn't working for me. While doing everything and being the super heroine I realized I wasn't that man's princess. I wasn't being cuddled and showered with gifts. I had nothing to show for my hard work. So I left that relationship. Still not leaving the mentality.

How I killed my ride or die bitch

So in 2008 I started a new relationship. Taking away some of the things I did , but still keeping a lot of qualities. I accepted less than respectful behavior, got loud and grimey with a chick or two. Rather than see it for what it was. There is absolutely nothing wrong with being a supportive girlfriend. Nothing. But this there to the end mentality is no longer for me. I have officially rejected it. I am in it until my common sense and heart tells me to stop. No longer can I be Ride or Die for people who have never been ride or die for me. I can only now just love as a heart and woman loves. And give up when it is time to so. Does that end my dedication? Loyalty? supportiveness? No. No. No. It just ends a hard core senseless dedication to it. I am happy to say I am no longer a ride or die chick. For some women this could end in marriage and a happily ever after. Good for them, but for me....I just can't do it. I'm just Valecia. A good woman. Who has a starting point and stopping point with my love. And I know the stopping point aint death. LOL.

Because this has to be the funniest set of commercials ever.....

At least to me....LOL 

Art truly imitates Life.....

As I watched this news clip on youtube it reminded me of something I had seen before. The most interesting part is one was extremely funny to me. The other....not so much. However both clips told the same story. See for yourself

VS.

It makes you wonder is the world really understanding the satire of The Boondocks. Or are they taking the injustices around them seriously. Maybe....just maybe it's time to stop laughing.