Category Archives: Metaphors


Or, how fashion rap has turned the game upside down;

Or, how butterfaced darlings of yesteryear have reclaimed self-worth through distracting accessories and outlandish packaging to become today’s “baddest bitch”;

Or, how Jeffrey Campbells redefined modern day “fly”;

Or, how, at the end of the day, Lil Kim and Foxy Brown remain girl world’s biggest aspirations (but you will never get there);

Or, how to spot a total Monet.


Nutella to my peanut butter

I don’t know if this makes me sadistic, narcissistic, or removed from my own emotional development, but:

I often try to imagine how you will feel when this entanglement begins to unravel – through the passage of time, a unilateral force, circumstances or whatever. More accurately, perhaps, I project how I imagine I would feel onto you, because I don’t know how this indefinite event at some undetermined time in the future will affect you. But when we lie in bed, bodies stacked like human Jenga, the mind wanders to far away places in the future when the space I occupy is a visible void though marked by nothingness and absence.  This feeling of reminiscence I’d have in the future for this very moment overtakes me and that’s when I want to tell you that I miss you, which is absurd, because you’re right there. So instead, I untangle myself and away from you, because I can’t face it.

In other words, how am I supposed to make peanut butter sandwiches when this jar of Nutella runs out?

Life is like a t-shirt

This nugget of brilliance came to me at the end of my run this morning. Basically, in every t-shirt’s life, there comes a point of perfect, delectable softness (I was wearing one such shirt on my run, it’s a maroon tee with Mos Def’s delectable face printed on it. DUH). You find yourself wearing it often, because it’s like being enveloped in love and clouds. But the affair is brief, because inevitably, a thread becomes unraveled, cottons wear out and it becomes more torn than worn. Then, you have to start all over again.

Life mimics similar cycles of wearing in a shirt to a perfect texture, at which point you try to get the most of it, but inevitably, the goodness runs out. And the holes reveal themselves and you have to stop and start over.

Or you know, I might be crazy.