Heather L. Barmore
Poliogue No Pasa Nada About
Heather L. Barmore
Poliogue No Pasa Nada Life List Best of About
Heather Barmore
Subscribe by RSS and email Contact Twitter Facebook

This form does not yet contain any fields.
    Change In Action at Babble Voices



    "I have a "carpe diem" mug and, truthfully, at six in the morning the words do not make me want to seize the day. They make me want to slap a dead poet." ~Joanne Sherman

    *It’s morning (10 AM to be exact) and as of late, they haven’t been my best times. I’ve done my routine, have my Awake tea in front of me. But fuck, as of late, no time has been my best time, but I put on my happy face and act like everything is wonderful. How’s work? Great! How’s the living situation? Great! How have you been? Fucking fantastic!

    Lies, all lies.

    In all honesty, everything is fine really. Nothing is actually wrong, nothing bad has happened. It’s all normal same shit different day. Day in and day out. I had my weekend high, which was fabulous, but still, I’m stuck in a rut. It blows and leaves me feeling so incredibly uncreative and having a most difficult time getting up in the morning. You’d be shocked to learn though that I’ve been awaking at 6:15 AM to run and I’ve been on the “program” (which means that French fries, except for the five I had yesterday, have not been a part of my diet. Great, I know. But still, I’m just so blah.

    Part of me finds that it has something to do with every other year, for the past 17 years, September comes and a new year starts with new shit happening everyday. That was the beauty of it all, so much happened in one day, that you can’t keep your head straight. There were vacations and midterms and finals and parties to look forward to. Shit, even the thought of my birthday was more exciting in years past than it has been this year. Every other year I’ve been that much closer to driving, or being able to vote or drinking, and now there’s not a damn thing to look forward to, oh wait, I can rent a car in a year. Woo Hoo!

    I guess I could say ‘no pasa nada’ to it all and let it roll off my back. This too shall pass. But seriously a change needs to come, and soon. Like say if I were to meet everyone on Wisteria Lane, I’d be one happy happy girl.

    *Addendum: Then coworkers crack my shit up (seriously I need a video camera) and all is right with the world. Same shit, but I should be thankful it's a nice calm same shit I feel.


    "The trouble with unemployment is that the minute you wake up in the morning you're on the job. " ~Slappy White

    Between returning from Spain/Graduation and finding an actual job, I had six neurotic – anxiety ridden weeks. Sans cable, I might add. But that was just fine, I had company in Kimber and my day time TV. friends. I also developed an affinity for baking cookies and muffins and the inevitable babysitting. Friends were worried about the baking and I was worried that I would never find a job.

    9 AM Regis & Kelly
    10 AM Gym time
    11 AM Ellen
    12 AM Starting Over
    1 PM Days of Our Lives
    2 PM Bullshit around with Kimber/Subway
    3 PM Babysit Peter
    6 PM Babysit Sammy

    Riveting, I know, but that was my day. Everyday. For six fucking weeks. By June 1st, I was contemplating my suicide. June 27th, I started working. I think that six weeks may have been the longest lapse between graduation and starting a job (dripping in sarcasm). I was so neurotic and upset about how I wasn’t going to find a job that I stopped talking to friends and to Peg, who had become exasperated by my worry.

    My extreme neurosis is a factor in everything that I do. Sad, but true. If I hadn’t had a set schedule and Ellen to look forward to everyday, and my dear Kimber, I would have made myself even crazier. I didn’t want or need, people telling me to stop worrying and that I would find a job, I needed someone or ‘people’ around to make me happy and let me indulge a little in my unemployment. To be truthful, I was a little sad during my last day of stay at home mom-dom.

    Now with the discovery of TV on my computer, I’ve taken to adding Ellen to my day again. Her dancing is a little something to have in the background at the mid morning hour, to make lunch get here faster and to cure whatever stupid shit is annoying me at the time, now that my worried-neurotic-annoyed-passive aggressive behavior has a new source.

    It just makes me happy. And as we know, it’s the little things that do it for me.

    CBC Weekend

    “Let our rejoicing rise, high as the listening skies,
    Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.”- James W. Johnson

    I think the weekend took “see and be seen” to a whole ‘nother level. Like an ‘I hate crowds, kinda want to shoot myself’ kind of level. I wrote a briefing in which I wasn’t sure to italicize “the” and capitalize everyone, as in; this is the event. EVERYONE will be there.

    It’s a yearly event, every September that the Congressional Black Caucus Foundation has its Annual Legislative Caucus. Last year’s was big, because it was a Presidential election year. This year was actually scaled back due to Hurricane Katrina, and it’s affects on the African American community in New Orleans. I will admit, it’s one of those events that I’ve always wanted to go to, (seeing and being seen isn’t necessarily a bad thing) kind of like convention. But people kept telling me, that going once will be more than enough. I’m starting to believe that.

    Ladies and Gentleman, my weekend synopsis:

    Friday Night

    Is where this post came from. I’m thinking I should elaborate on it a bit. Let’s go back to this conversation prior to an event at work:

    HB: “I think I want some real food, not just M & Ms and oreos”
    Coworker: “Why don’t you go downstairs and have food?
    HB: “Ooh food and alcohol. Good idea”
    Coworker: “Yes, you like both. But necessarily in that order”
    HB: “OK you’re right, I like alcohol and then food”
    Coworker: “Glad we’re on the same page on this”

    Everywhere as part of the CBCF ALC weekend, the CBC spouses put on a fashion show which is equated to hot people wearing hot clothes-Hot. But prior to the start of the fashion show, I mixed and mingled and started on the free wine on our tables. Decided to go chat with a work colleague and there sitting next to her was Ms. Alfre Woodard. The picture above does her no justice.

    I was introduced to her to which she replied “Look how cute you are, you don’t look old enough to be working anywhere” (heh, I’m cute in my pearls and pink cashmere. Word)
    “I’m 21”
    “Exactly not old enough” Alrighty then.

    I then diverted all attention to why she and her very cute “son” have moved onto Wisteria Lane. I think my exact words were “So what’s going to happen Sunday?”. Who cares about the four Emmy’s and Miss Ever’s Boys? I want to know about why she has a man locked up in her basement. Priorities people.

    Also seated at the table was Omarosa (the [inseart your own adjective here] woman from the Apprentice who cost Kwame the win. Also star of the Surreal Life). Ok, moving on now, because seated at my table, was Kwame. I told him that I wish had won, that was the extent of the conversation.

    Like I said HOT people in the fashion show. Like Kim Porter whose freaking BOYFRIEND, whom we all know and love showed up. Diddy, man, Diddy. I think I may have peed on myself. And also the lovely Vivica Fox.

    (Ok the end with Friday night because everyone else went to Love and I went home and made pizzas on pita bread. You would have thought I discovered uranium.)

    Saturday Night:

    Mmmmm mani and a pedi. Love it. Must look hot, because someone who has been lucky in the love department seems to think that I will find the love of my life this weekend. For the record, I didn’t.

    CBC Gala/Awards dinner. The Cast of Characters: Omarosa, James Avery (Uncle Phil from Fresh Prince), Alfre Woodard, Wyclef Jean, Minister Farrakhan, John Kerry, Howard Dean, Reverend Sharpton and Jackson, Lynne Whitfield, 43 Members of Congress-including the Senator from Illinois and everyone and their freaking brother. Say it with me now, Crowd Control. There’s nothing like being pushed out of the way so that people could get their picture taken with my boss. I’ve also realized that I’m claustrophobic, and was thisclose to freaking out. Oh but I couldn’t, because I was in public with every upper echelon member of the black community. It was a test of wills and silently saying to myself “Holy shit, don’t freak out”. It was great.

    After dinner it was “try to get an invite to the best parties”. Apparently getting invites to Zanzibar and to Love for the New York party make you cool or something. Again, see and be seen. I got invites, so I suppose I’m cool. Whatever. Although I was VIP at Zanzibar it was crowded and a lot of the 40+ crowd, but hey! Open Bar. Also Wyclef was there as was Lynne Whitfield sipping on the vino. Afterwards went to Love (well damn, looks just like Dream, what a change-but we won’t go there) where I got to be with my favorites. I love being with people and seeing people that I haven’t hung out with since last fall. It makes me kind of nostalgic. I want last fall back, minus the devastating loss. Again, won’t go there.

    Oh and note to self: just because vodka tonics taste like water, doesn’t mean that you can drink them like water. Which is how I go through about five in a sitting then end up drunk and passing out.


    Holy hangover batman. I actually went to a babysitting interview looking a lot like hell (thankfully the mom reads my blog, Hey Kelly!).
    Then dropped $150 at GAP (there’s a sale. Run, don’t walk). Noticed my chubbiness and went to potbelly. Yum. Walked around Farragut with my 18 bags and I kind of resembled a bag lady. Albeit a bag lady with a fresh mani and pedi that shops at gap and carries a Coach Bag.

    Fast forward to Sunday night where roommate and I freaked the fuck out during Desperate Housewives every time Alfre Woodard came on screen. There were screams of “OH MY GOD, I CAN’T BELIEVE I JUST MET HER!”

    Tiring, yet successful weekend. There’s really nothing like being surrounded by beautiful black people all weekend long. There’s also nothing like hearing ‘Lift Every Voice and Sing’ and not being the only person to know the words (if you didn’t know we have our own national anthem as well). Thank God it’s only once a year though as I doubt I could handle more.