Team Edward? No! Team Jennifer!

Today has been kind of a boring/relaxing day. Earlier today, Phaedra and I stopped by a discount store to see if we could find any coffee tables. In this store, the clothing is up front, and the household items and sporting goods are in the back. I ventured to the back of the store where I had never ever been before. I was amazed at all they had. I pulled out a few golf clubs and reminisced about playing golf in high school. As I walked closer to the very back of the store, I noticed what I thought was a 2-way mirror. I try to always check myself out in the mirror everytime I walk by one. I was about 30 feet away from it, and I wasn't able to see myself. So, I walked toward it. I STILL didn't see myself in the mirror. By now, I'm walking very quickly to get as close to the mirror as I can so I can figure out what's going on. I got about 5 feet from the mirror...my heart was racing, I could feel myself breathing heavily, my peripheral vision was limited. I COULDN'T SEE MYSELF! WHERE WAS I?! I mean I am literally on the verge of a panic attack. The only thing I could think of was that song by T.I. and Justin Timberlake called "Dead and Gone". Was I dead and gone? Was I a vampire? There was a lady standing in the next aisle over. I looked at her, and then I looked in the mirror and I didn't see her either! After spending a few minutes staring, I saw something move in what I THOUGHT was the 2-way mirror. As it turns out, it was just a big cutout in the wall and you could actually see the warehouse through it. I felt very embarrassed for myself. Really? Really, Jen? On that note, I'm off to bed.

Four Square, Maya, and Me

I've been asked by several people why the name of my blog is entitled "Letters to Maya Angelou" (well, I haven't really been asked by anyone, but I do anticipate a flurry of inquiries just as soon as someone actually starts reading my blogs). It's a long and fascinating story, but I will tell the short version:

One hot summer day in Arkansas in 1952, my friends and I were playing a competitive game of Four Square. This is what we did most days. We liked to have tournaments and hustle the rich kids out of their money. We were fairly popular but mostly caused trouble. One day, during an especially heated game of Four Square Doubles (two people on each team), we all noticed a dark skinned girl in pig tails walking towards our game. We didn't pay any attention at first because we were so into our game, but suddenly out of nowhere, my partner yells "GET OUTTA HERE, CRAPFACE!". Now, I've said my share of unkind words, but this was definitely uncalled for. To everyone's surprise, I told my partner that I no longer wanted to play with her and that I wanted the new girl to be my partner. That new girl's name was Maya - Maya Angelou. I asked her if she knew anything about the game of Four Square. She said she only knew why the caged bird sings. Puzzled, I told her a few rules and that's all it took to start a beautiful friendship. We didn't lose a single game since that fateful day in 1952. Maya had natural talent!
Maya and I both received prestigious Four Square scholarships to any university of our choice. I wanted to go to Stanford, but Maya had her heart set on Wake Forest. Well, we went our separate ways but still talked every single day using our rotary phones and writing letters. We both excelled in Four Square. As luck (or should I say "unluck") would have it, Maya and I were to play against each other for the National Four Square Singles title. Never in our lives had we ever played AGAINST each other. The President of the United States said that if Maya won, he would enact integration and make segregation a crime. That put A LOT of pressure on me considering my best friend was black. We played our hearts out. I was playing for pride, and Maya was playing for her country. We stayed head to head throughout the entire game. Finally, I looked deep into Maya's eyes and hit the ball out of bounds on purpose. There was a giant gasp from the audience. They were stunned. History had been changed forever. Maya had won, and segregation had lost.
Maya went on to do several talk shows. We eventually lost touch. I hear she is friends with Oprah now. I do think about her every single day, and I'm sure she thinks about me, too. One day I know we'll meet again, but until then I'll just keep on writing letters to Maya Angelou...

Open Mouth, Insert Foot

Have you ever had the urge to say something but bit your tongue? Well, I bite my tongue a lot. However, while at work, I just couldn't fight the temptation anymore. I was on the phone with a provider, and her poor patient was diagnosed with anorexia and depression. I advised the provider that I noticed when they billed with both diagnoses, the claims got paid...but when they billed just anorexia, they did not get paid. Mind you, these claims are all within a one month time span. She said to me "Well, the diagnosis was depression last week, but it doesn't apply this week". Really? Because I'm pretty sure anorexia and depression kinda go hand in hand...not to mention I've never seen a case of depression be so short-lived. After biting my tongue for minutes, I finally said "I'm sure she didn't just stop being depressed after a week". Crickets. You could hear crickets. I'm sure she was flabbergasted that I had said that. Finally, in shock I'm sure, she said "I guess I'll have to do some more research on this claim". Thank God.
I'm sure one day my mouth will make me the victim of a drive-by shooting -or worse- a subject on topix.com. My mouth spewing is even worse when I get nervous. For example, when I introduced my girlfriend to my not-so-ugly manager, I mentioned something in reference to the fact that she (my manager) could be a stripper to pay her bills after we all get laid off. Wow. It gets worse...tonight at Walgreen's, Phaedra and I were discussing which brand of mousse she should get for her hair. A not-so-ugly worker comes up to us and asks if we need any help. She starts talking about her hair and how it's difficult to manage because she's bi-racial. (Insert Foot Moment in 3, 2, 1...) I pointed to Phaedra (my also bi-racial girlfriend) and say "Bi-racial, meet bi-racial". MAN! My mouth should come with some sort of disclaimer.

Too Legit to Quit

So, I decided to start blogging. I'm not sure how this is going to work out. Okay, well, it has been 15 minutes and this is all I have typed up so far. There go my 15 minutes of fame. I'll try again tomorrow.