Bill Cosby Interview with Larry King Live

There’s no date but I’m guessing this was around 1992. I’ll leave you to your own opinion, but I don’t like his infliction “it doesn’t make any difference” in reference to what kind of drink to drop the ” Spanisn fly in. watch it here

Why validation is the new drug ….

This picture has gone viral. This picture is of a little girl.

The caption explains the picture but who explains the caption?

The need to post things on social media to validate ones actions is becoming an epidemic. The kudos and encouragement that people go to great lengths to receive is fueled by attention. The attention seekers way of getting high.

This act (in which the actual picture is in reference to) created a beautiful moment shared by student and teacher, so why take away from “the beauty” of the moment? Not putting it on social media wouldn’t have taken away your effort. Not posting this picture wouldn’t had changed the fact that the affect made the little girl feel pretty.

Simple, it’s the same reason why Kim Kardashian has a huge, unnaturally fat ass. It’s the same reason why people “troll” the Internet and post unnerving comments.

The reactions.

When someone posts something like the picture above to the Internet they want the love and the hate. They want to be controversial (in the fact that what you did may cross boundaries). They want the publicity, because all publicity is good publicity.

What goes through someone’s mind to take the time out of their day to first, put someone down and then try to flip it around by calling it beauty?

Narcissism

/ˈnärsəˌsizəm/

excessive or erotic interest in oneself and one’s physical appearance.

PSYCHOLOGY
extreme selfishness, with a grandiose view of one’s own talents and a craving for admiration, as characterizing a personality type.

Social media has created a bunch of little narcissistic monsters and they even come in form of teachers also.

To say “it looked like it hadn’t been touched the entire holiday break” is so unnecessary and excessive, but because of this “grandiose view” we had to understand what real “miracle” work this teacher did on her students hair.

The post gave zero useful information. If this child had come to school day after day with dirty and tangled her hair, then yes I could understand the teacher’s worry. No such thing was stated. So, for all we know this child’s caretaker could’ve been running late, and decided to put a winter hat on her head and left. Would the teacher have been more impressed if the little girl came to school but was 20min late because her mom didn’t want to be judged by the person that’s supposed to be teaching? Is it that detrimental to teach children to be “pretty” you have to have your hair done?

Personally, I see nothing wrong with the initial act of doing your students hair. I might have done the same thing. I wouldn’t have taken pictures of it to take home and then posted it on social media!

It would’ve been really amazing if that teacher had showed her student that she was pretty before also. Self-confidence doesn’t come from getting your hair done. I say that loosely because sometimes I literally feel sick if I don’t get mine done. BUT, I still know I’m pretty regardless.

excessive or erotic interest in oneself and one’s physical appearance

“When I finished, she looked at herself and said aww so pretty “.

It seems like this monster is creating little monsters.

Hey! I have my moments also, but the first step to recovery is admittance right!?

Why I won’t take the “Black Lives Matter” protestors seriously…

I’m going to keep this short, because I don’t want to piss too many people off, it’s too early in the new year for that, and I just started my blog, so I’m still trying to suck up. Also, I will save my opinions on the Eric Garner and Mike Brown case for another post, because like I said I’m still trying to get followers!

One thing I will say is that these protests are laughable. I’m not referencing the cause. I would never tell someone what to believe, even if they are wrong, but if you want to be taken seriously then there are ways to go about it, and these protesters are indeed FAILING.

If we take a look back to 1968 we can see vast contrast between the two pictures. The first thing that caught my eye, is the clothing. Today, the #blacklivesmatter protestors are wearing homemade shirts, designer sunglasses, shirts with their belly hanging out, and blue jeans.

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If you were to go to a business meeting, wearing what the protestors today are wearing they would laugh you out the door. Why? Simple, because your attire is your first impression. Before you even open your mouth to speak, your clothes say a lot about you. In 1968, these protests were underneath all of it, basically, a business meeting. The civil rights movement, was like a gigantic contract. The contract was one of livelihood but, a contract none the less. The men wore shirts, ties, blazers. The women wore, knee length dresses, and heels. This wasn’t about comfort or convenience it was about respect and fulfillment.

The other thing I noticed was the body language. Honestly, this can only be taken with a grain of salt because a protest is a long event and the these pictures only capture a brief moment in time, but I can’t help but to feel the hostility when looking at the picture below 👇.

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Arms up, mouths open. It’s almost as if they just want to be heard. If you dissect the different arguments, there’s no cohesion. There’s many saying that it’s a race problem, there others swearing it’s just police brutality and not about race. The message isn’t clear. It’s extremely unorganized which, is exactly what the Black Lives Matter protesters look like, a hot mess!

Now, in comparison, you see the Civil Rights protestors. Arms held side by side and tightly locked. They look organized and well put together. They look as if they have a purpose. They look as if they want to be seen and by being seen they will be heard. They don’t look angry, they look honorable. .

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These were just a couple of points I wanted to make in reference to the cause. Maybe, in the weeks to come the BLM protestors will get their shit together, if they actually mean businesss and they aren’t doing it because it’s just “the thing to do”. Feel free to join in on the discussion, I love a good (intellectual) debate.

Who am I, and why am I blogging?

So, my name is Brianna Tozer but feel free to call me Carrie. Yes, like Carrie Bradshaw from Sex in The City. No, I really didn’t like that show too much but I watched because I loved Carrie Bradshaw. I loved how fabulous she was, and how she wasn’t afraid to talk about spending her rent on shoes and her sex life.

Well, enough about her and more about me! I’ll save you the nitty gritty details about my early life but I’ll touch on it really quick.

BORN– Seattle December 1988
ADOPTED– when I was 3mo I was placed with my now, parents, and I was officially adopted around 2 or 3 years old. My parents (yes they are Caucasian) were foster parents in the Seattle area for years and have over 100 child go in and out of their home. They adopted 3, the first one was my biological brother, the second was a blonde hair blue eyed girl, and the third and last was me! Plus, my parents had two older children of their own, so all together there were 5 of us!

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I lived in Renton and Redmond, Wa until I was 10 years old, then my parents made the best decision ever (sarcasm, but not really) to move to Iowa. My mom’s side of the family lived there. It was one thing to feel out of place as the only black girl in all of my classes at Emily Dickinson Elementary, but then to be the only black person in the entire school, was different but nothing I couldn’t handle! I was a major tomboy and got along well with everyone in school. We moved from the college town of Cedar Falls, IA to small country town of Toledo, IA …. Yes … Toledo, IOWA not OHIO!

Population: 1,5000

Although it was quite an… Hmm, adjustment, looking back I loved it. I quickly found that in order to fit in and make friends, you must play sports and be involved in school. So, that’s what I did. I always played basketball even in Seattle. I played elite club ball, so I started playing in Iowa. I also, learned about volleyball and started playing in 6th grade and was (not to toot my own horn) really good, just like the rest of the girls in my grade so we all got really close and played amazingly well in club through middle school until high school graduation. In high school, I also got involved in speech contest. In 2006 I went all-state in my large group speech, and got straight 1s in my individual speech, coincidentally I performed our future president Barack Obama’s 2004 Democratic Convention speech.

I never really felt destine for stardom or anything crazy like that but I knew I didn’t belong in Toledo, IA, and I cringed at the thought of college. However, I did give college a try since I got a volleyball scholarship to a private college, but hated it. So, off to the Air Force I went.

About, 8 months after signing up for the Air Force I finally left for basic training. Of course I made friends while there and no enemies. Because, I’m me,Carrie Bradshaw and everyone loves me. No, really, I’ve always got along with everybody! Basic training was some of the best weeks of my life, extremely challenging, but still amazing.

Well, that all came to a halt after basic training, I met an ASSHOLE, training instructor, some black guy that had mommy issues and hated other black females. So luckily for both of us, my technical training was only 5 weeks long. I made it through that horrible experience, but also made some great friends there, and off I went to Italy.

Yes!! Italy. I got Italy as an airman for my first duty assignment. I remember writing it down on my dreamsheet in basic training, we were all in a classroom, and I was sitting next to this sweet girl (bitch) who’s parents were like officers in the Air Force already, and the girl told me “Don’t write Italy, no one ever gets it!”… To which I replied, “Bitch, I’m Carrie motherfuckin’ Bradshaw!” …Ok, well I said that in my head but aloud I think I said, “haha, sucks to be them!”

Seriously, I’m not normal. Things just come to me and happen for me. So I wasn’t shocked when I got Italy. I was so excited I didn’t even take leave to go home to see my family before I jetted off to Italy from training.

I’ll save all of my emotional, out of body experiences for another post. I lived in Italy for 2 years and got my single white — black — female on, and loved it. I also deployed to the Middle East while I was there. Qatar. I was there for 7 months. Worked hard, laughed hard, had some fun times and then went back to Italy. My Air Force career was nothing to be ashamed of. However, I was only in for 4 years. That was my fault. After my first two amazing years in Italy, I got stuck in Louisiana.

That’s when everything changed.

At first I loved it. I loved it for like the first 2 months. Then things turned horrible. My leadership was non-existent. The structure I had at work in Italy wasn’t there in the states. No one got a long. There were rumors at work. I got my first enemy ever. I didn’t know how to handle, someone not liking me. It ruined my life. I always felt so self-confident. Why me? Why am I getting picked on. I experienced financial difficulty. I got pregnant with someone had I no intentions of building a life with. He wasn’t a bad guy, just not perfect for me.

I met another man.

This one was my best friend. At first. He got me like no one else did. I soon found out he could hurt me like no one else could as well.

My life was falling apart.

However, since I’m me. I never let anyone see that. I continued to go to work, and be flawless on shift. I worked shifts for everyone else when they need someone. I still volunteered in the community and on base. I still worked third shift even though my boyfriend “knew I was going out to see someone and not go to work”. I was trying .

I was trying so hard to hold everything together.

Eventually. It all unraveled. I lost everything because of the man that was my best friend. Our tumultuous relationship caused me to falll. Everything that I worked so hard for, my car, my career, my gorgeous apartment (with high ceilings and crown molding and all black appliances and granite counters) and , I lost. Our fighting. It made me tired. It got physical every time. His jealousy was tiring. Yes, there were red flags in the beginning. I should’ve known. I did know, but I didn’t care. I told him I wouldn’t give up on him. I promised that I wouldn’t be the one person in his life to turn their back on him.

Then I realized. I’m someone’s child. I’m someone’s mother now. I have to get it together and leave.

I left my daughter with my parents for one final attempt to get my life together. I was working, the crazy boyfriend moved out, and life was going great. The financial difficultly was there though. I grew up middle class, I didn’t ever have much debt but the little that I had seemed to take apart my life. Military loan sharks were circling and I was drowning.

Out of desperation I moved back in with my boyfriend and it took less than two weeks for it to go sideways. I committed career suicide because I need out. The only way out I knew was to get kicked out of the Air Force. I did something stupid. I had to, I talked to my leadership before about needing to get stationed some place else, I talked to them about not being happy where I was. I couldn’t tell them that my home life was hell, but they knew. So why didn’t they help? Why did they just let me ruin my career. Oh well, at least I was able to move finally.

I could see the end in sight. I was planning what I was going to do when I got home to my daughter in Arizona. I was applying for jobs.

Then it happened. My second out of body experience. I found out I was pregnant with my second child.

This was not good news but I knew it was happening. I was a statistic. I was an African American single-mother in a domestically violent relationship. It didn’t matter that I was still in the Air Force. It happened to me.

The next three months were like a cloud of bad karma. One thing after another just kept happening. I won’t get into these details either but here’s the run down.

JAIL: I went to jail for a bogus fight because my boyfriend lied to the cops. Even though my pregnant body left a huge all in the wall from him pushing me, I got arrested. Needless to say the charges were dropped but that was one of the last times I saw him. Jail was the best thing that could’ve happened to me. It took me out for the unhealthy relationship and it gave me my confidence back.

AF Separation: the jail incident was the final straw for the Air Force. It was a mutual breakup. I felt the joy I once had to serve my country was gone. I found out that my leadership was telling everyone at work about my personal problems. I had no real supervisor. I never got credit for being a single mother but still working different shifts every week, all the while my life at home was crumbling. I still got my Air Force good conduct medal, then on 11/08/2012 I was officially a civilian again.

I was stuck in Louisiana, for a couple months for child court with my daughter (my oldest child). Her father was jealous but painfully dumb. We both wasted money on lawyers to go to court but ultimately he didn’t get custody and had to start paying child support so in his eyes he “lost”. I finally got to return home to Arizona.

There I was. A 25 year old single mom of one with one on the way. I was living with my mom, I lost my car when I got out of the Air Force due to the stress, I couldn’t work while I was pregnant so my car got Repod for missing one payment. I had no job, no real direction. I applied to probably over 100 places for work. Then my son was born early. He faced some challenges do to being premature but after two weeks in the hospital he was able to come home.

There I was. A 25 year old mother of two, under two. I got a job at a brand new and very upscale medical marijuana dispensary right down the street from my house. I loved working there. However, I’ve always been a prude when it comes to substances (for myself, not everyone else). Since I am adopted and I know addiction is in my DNA, I’ve always stayed away from smoking and alcohol and I don’t even take medicine when I get sick. So, although it was a new and fresh experience I had to stop working there. I am a veteran! I need to find a real job!

A year goes by and I have found nothing that will work. I’ve been to flight attendant hiring events and many interview and Here I am. 26 year old mother of two. I am trying to find the balance between working and not paying too much for daycare. It seems impossible. I can’t get a car without a job, but I can’t get to work without a car. I’m still here, living with my mother. My need for independence is haunting me. All I can think about is getting my own place for my kids and myself and finding a live in nanny. I’ve had some amazing interviews at places. I’ve been hired for a part-time job with Banner Health, but it’s taken 3 months for the hiring process. So, since I am virtually getting paid to be a stay at home mom now I’ve had a lot of time to think. What do you love? I love writing. I love expressing myself verbally. Every time I do something in my head, I’m writing about it. I don’t know what I want to be but I have to start somewhere.

My parents have raised me to be well-rounded (I’m good at everything besides golf) but the Air Force wrecked the idea of a formal education (sorry for all the writing errors, I write how I talk). I love on the job training. If I could be a nurse, minus all the school and just go straight to hands on training I would love it. I’ve also toyed around with the idea of going to law school. I’ve taken classes. I have some college education, but at the turn of the year I decided I need to do something before I go insane. I need to work. I need to be in the public eye again, but I can’t afford daycare. So here I am. I am blogging. Due to the recent events throughout the nation on race, and police, and violence, I feel that I offer a unique insight since I did grow up in unusual circumstances.

I am also……. not normal

I’ve always get compliments on how beautiful I am. I mean. I’m not ugly, but I’m no Halle Berry either. People always ask “what are you?” I love the fact that I can say “I don’t know, I’m adopted”, mystery is sexy. I honestly feel that my presence is beautiful. In stores I get things for free. People see me waiting in line and they rush to serve me before anyone else. I exude self-confidence. I have that, it, factor. Everyone turns to look when I walk in a room. That (in my opinion) has very little to do with my outward appearance. In high school some girls called me the “black beauty queen”, because I carry myself like the world is my stage. I greet everyone with a smile. I acknowledge everyone’s existence. Yes, there are those Instagram models that are gorgeous. But, most of them only get attention for the assets that they bought and are now showing off. Whether it’s fake boobs, fake booties, fake hair, expensive cars, or handbags. All materialistic things. Don’t get me wrong, I love nice things, I love weave too. I love getting dressed up and going out but I don’t do it a lot. I also would never show off what I have. Sexy isn’t about showing everything. Being a lady isn’t about the fact that you have tits and ass. Knowing how to turn a man on isn’t taking your clothes off. Yes, I had to learn this to. I mean I always knew that I possessed this, but it’s so easy to take half naked pics for attention. I don’t do that anymore because I have realized that I don’t need to. I am intelligent and quick witted, that is enough.

That’s what my blog is going to be about. It’s going to be about using your brain to get ahead. It’s about my journey for independence and becoming the mother my kids need. It may be about love, but I’m not really looking for it. My appetite to succeed surpasses my sexual appetite right now, so we might get there but not anytime soon. My. Blog will be about humans. My blog will be about the lifestyle I’m hoping to obtain by writing. My blog will be about raising children. My blog will be about being alone, without being lonely. My blog will be about travel. My blog will be be about how a 26 year old loser with two kids, creates a successful blog and uses that success to start a business.

This post has run entirely too long and I left a lot of my life out (mainly the really sad parts). As we get to know each other you will learn more about me. This was just an introduction. Thanks for reading and feel free to ask any questions you may have!

What does it take to become a Survivor?

Meet 7 year old Sailor Gutzler, all of her immediate family just died in a plane crash. Sailor is the sole survivor of the crash, that killed 4 souls on board, but not only did she just survive, which in and of itself is amazing, she walked through dense, cold, Kentucky woods to find help. I won’t get into to details about her medical state, because some reports say she had broken bones and others don’t. However, all reports agree she was dressed in shorts and a tee shirt, had one sock on, and a bloodied body. I was in awe while listening to her story. I was truly impressed with her agility and focus. I grew up in Redmond, WA and we used to play in the woods all the time. To imagine wearing (virtually) nothing, and try to find help in the pitch black is awe inspiring.

So what is it? The survival instinct, is something that just kicks in. You may not be privy to it in your lifetime but every individual possesses it.

Darkness can be crippling. That feeling you get when you can’t see your hand in front of your face can heighten anxiety. Sailor, had to walk through trees, and creeks in that pitch blackness. The cold can be paralyzing. Death can be shocking. To witness both of your parents and your older sister parish, and the fear that built up to the moment of the actual crash, can be hypnotizing. Sailor mentally blocked out all of that and her sole reason for existence was to get help for herself.

As a veteran, these kind of events were things that we spent weeks of training to prepare for. I used to always pay “not so much attention”, not because I didn’t find it useful, but because these qualities and needs to survive are things that every being already contains. Self-preservation; self-pres·er·va·tion
noun
the protection of oneself from harm or death, especially regarded as a basic instinct in human beings and animals.

A basic instinct. These are the things that tie every living thing together. These are the things that someone else can’t take away from you. But, these basic needs are something that can’t be taught either. Yes, you can be given tools to make the basic needs not so “basic”. You can be given a platform to perform and reach ultimate means of survival like a Navy Seal, but you don’t need that. For some, self-preservation would’ve been, waiting in the plane, or by the crash site until the sun came up to look for help. That’s what separates leaders from followers.

Sailor, will grow up to be a beautiful young women. I know, it’s 2015 and everyone focuses on outward appearance (sarcasm). However, I’m talking about beauty on a much deeper level. Her beauty will come from heartache and pain of not having her parents and sister there, for some of the “important” things in life; like high school/college graduation, weddings, her first job, her first boyfriend, her first break up. Her beauty will come from self-confidence. The same self-confidence she showed to immediately find help for her family and to not wait until it was safe.

I know they speak of survivors guilt, but something tells me that this one will be ok.

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Life 2015

Life? Everyone thinks life should be pretty. Like that skinny blonde girl, with a flat chest in high school. Sarah, She never had to try hard to be great at everything and all the boys wanted her. That isn’t life. Life is the fat girl, Tina, that plays tuba, who all the straight guys secretly wanted because she was the only girl in school with boobs and ass. Life is Amaya, the tall, rail thin, mixed girl with the thick  hair and thick eyebrows, who next year will be overseas fashion modeling, because she is beautiful. Life is the science nerd, Alex, who always has extra pencils and gives you one, because you lost yours throughout the day. Everyday. Life is Sarah’s parents who filed for divorce and can’t stand to be in the same room as each other, and she is alone every night listening to two people that were once in love scream “I hate you, this was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made!”.

Life is Sarah’s tears. Life is Tina’s curves. Life is Amaya’s beauty. Life is Alex’s generosity. Life will cause you pain. Life will have ins and outs and ups and downs. Life and all its ugliness is beautiful. Life will give you presents and secret messages. There is no magic equation to succeed. Money will never make life easier. There will be people that come in to destroy your livelihood. You may know others who’s life ended too soon. The only way to live is to feel it in every aspect. Love and love hard. Get hurt. Recover, and do it again. Meet someone who causes your body to subconsciously feel things you didn’t know you could feel. Use all your senses. Taste food you think you’ll hate. Close your eyes and hear things with a blind man’s ears. Don’t waste life by becoming numb to thinks that are out of your control.

Having kids sucks. But, it’s a good kind of suck. Like owning little hurricanes but you get to pick the names, not the weather guy. They are fascinating. How did nature do that? They cause you to slow down, but make life move so fast. The older you get the more you realize there are no constants in life.

Time is no longer a constant. It speeds up. In the blink of an eye you’ll be wondering what happened to last year. Next year will seem to come overnight. Life won’t get easier, you will just start to get more control of it, and it becomes more enjoyable.