Aliya S. King

Time to get started on the day.

How I will do that and keep up with my Blog-o-rama?

We shall see.

Didn’t do my hair this morning. No time. Plus its supposed to rain so why bother. I’m way underdressed. It’s fricking cold outside and I’m wearing bare legs and fake Chanel ballet flats. Dumb.

And this hat doesn’t match.

I’ve realized that warm and fuzzy hats are like a security blanket for me. Even when I’m “dressed” I default to the warm and fuzzy hat to throw off my quest to look completely pulled together.

Hmmm.

You will  not be able to keep up with me. Life will overrule you. Tech will defeat you. You will have to live life in the real world while I dwell wholly in cyberspace.

I walk in. Another head nod from Omar.

Coffee?

Yeah, I say.

He turns to make the coffee.

There’s a Black man to my right, sitting at the counter, eating breakfast. I never see Black guys in Omar’s. For that matter, I never see Americans in Omar’s.

“What’s up Ma?” he says, his mouth full of food.

(more…)

The street I grew up on. Even though I moved out back in ’98, it’s still Home to me.

Is it politcally incorrect to wonder why so many convenience stores seem to be owned by the same ethnicity? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Black person running a corner store since Kerr’s Sweet Shop on the corner of Springdale and Grove. And that joint burned down well over a decade ago.

Is there a theory on this? I’m genuinely curious.