I desperately try to help others understand that blackness as a commodity is no longer politically correct. I got a preview of a publication and once again I was shocked by the images I saw. There are roughly 100 female black students on campus out of almost 19,000 students. We make up such a small portion of the student population. Additionally, the total population of black students (I use the word black because in the computer system there is no distinction between black or Africans etc. We are all lumped into a single category of black)is roughly 250 students.
I am again upset that another Black face has been chosen to represent 'diverse' Boise State. The thing that goes beyond simple annoyance is the fact that the photo choice is of a young lady (my apology in advance) is tore up from the floor up. Hair baby... her hair is tore up. I find it amusing that for an entity that is hard pressed to show how diverse it is does not really care or understand our culture. Who, seriously what self respecting sista wants to have a photograph of herself on a publication that will be around for six months with her hair tow up? Our culture dictates many nuances and one of which is you don't want to look like a dark spot in photographs and you definitely don't want 19,000 or more people seeing you with a very bad hair day. It's just not right.
I had a conversation with the powers that be over the issue of Black images on publications. Has... will anyone hear me? I am fired up mad that this issue of image and the perpetuation of race unfriendly tactics and strategies continue. The reason it continues is because our dark hues are easier to find when scrolling through thousands of images. This means that people are not looking at the pictures beyond the superficial. This means we are the easiest targets. This means there is no value to what we represent beyond our Black faces.
I was so upset about this that I felt wounded. You know what I mean, my spirit was crushed, I pained on the inside that this institution that prides itself on its diverse nature does not value me as a person. Does not value anything about me beyond the external. How interesting is it that a program that wants to be inclusive, isolates people in a way that further isolates the very people it hopes to attract and embrace. What backwards, bad word bad word kind of society are they hoping to build? I know that I am not alone in my assessment. I wish I could snap my fingers and people would hear my voice. What do I do?
I said enough to my boss and I hope he quietly speaks to the powers that be. I understand in a way that some people may think that me getting all torked about ole girls hair being tore up is superficial etc but we need to admit and embrace our own culture. So what... all self respecting sistas wanna look good. We pride ourselves on it and it isn't a bad thing to be cognizant of how we look.
Peace
February 12, 2008
January 25, 2008
Why my man is better than you'll ever be
You know, recently I sent an email to someone... they know who they are. I expected a response back. Instead I got a chilly rebuff. I am shocked and amazed, but then again I should have expected as much. I figured the content of the email was pretty heavy duty and it would take a few days for the person to let the initial shock settle in. I figured after the shock wore off the person would come to their senses and realize that I mean no harm.
Well! Things didn't quite go the way I expected. I started thinking about it and acknowledged some of the things I read on their 'blog' (I use that word loosely because it is actually one of those other spaces) and realized that it takes the better man to do the right thing. I know the request I made was heavy duty, but I stand by the request I made. I think after all this time, to ask one simple thing is not asking much.
I started thinking about my wonderful, wonderful husband and what a blessing it is that he is such a caring, loving father. Being a father is serious business. My husband is all about the business of being Dad. My kids are so different in the way they respond to their Dad. One is shy and brilliant. The other is not shy and hides his brilliance behind his stubbornness. It's the shy one that I want to talk about. He loves his Dad so much, he's always been there for him, almost every day of his life. He talks to his Dad about things he doesn't talk to me about. He knows he can depend on his Dad to provide for him both physically and emotionally.
You know my boy he proved the kind of man he was when Nita died. I never will forget that day for obvious reasons. I remember getting the call from Mom and she told me Nita had passed. I was distraught and freaking out. I called my own mother to try to get the courage to call my husband and inform him of the news. While I was on the phone with my mother a very mature, very strong young man used his cell phone and called his Dad to tell him his baby sister was dead.
How? How in the world did I get such a wonderful son? How did I get the privilege of being the mother to someone who has a good head on his shoulders and just seems to always do the right things even when it's difficult? It seems almost too perfect. I am not saying he is perfect, because no kid is. This kid though is the one who doesn't share his deepest feelings with anyone but his Dad. While his Dad was away fighting a war, he kept me straight. This kid, without being asked functioned as the young man of the house. I never ask him to do some of the things he's done. I remember one night I was all fired up over the 'baby' and was ripping him a new one. My boy came out of his room and said, "You got to bed and you go to bed." I was shocked. He just jumped right in there and in his own way and told both of us... no more bickering tonight, both of you just go to sleep. Like good little children, we both did what he ask.
It's so funny because I can never say too much about what my husband does while I am here in this space. He is my hero. I guess without completely outing what he does for a living I can say over the years I can distinctly remember certain things from over the years that just added to why I think he's such a stand up guy. I remember how bruised and banged up when he got back from one of the top tactical schools in the United States. Even before that though, I remember him driving 140 miles a day when he first started out and we still lived in "Hicksville" He's always done the things he's done to make sure he took good care of me and the boys. He does what a real man does. I remember when he found out he could do exactly what he did in the Marine Corps up here for the National Guard. He signed on the dotted line to take care of his family. It was pretty difficult for those first few years when both the boys were young. We didn't ask for others to help us. He willingly did what he had to do to make sure we were all comfortable and happy. It's that kind of dedication that is translated into why I feel like there isn't anyone else on this planet that could ever hold a candle to things he's done because he loves his family.
I can't believe that someone who works in the high stress environment that he does is so gentle and sweet. I'll only say these few other things about him. When you really think about it it doesn't seem real that the guy who loves kids and all of his nieces and nephews love always saying, "Uncle this and uncle that" is a trained sniper. I mean it, he's got the certificate to prove it, I tell you no lies. There are those who play war, dress up in camouflage and remember old times. My man is a combat vet, SWAT trained, and a former sniper (and those things barely scratch the surface of the things he's managed to accomplish while we've been married). It's insane because I never thought I'd be married to a man that women only dream of. If you like that dangerous really nice guy who's tall and seeps testosterone... that's my guy. And he's so nice, a gentle caring man who loves his kids and family and by day he's any boy or woman's hero. A man who married me with his eyes wide open, he knew what it meant when he took his vows. Not one time has he ever complained or suggested that he was stuck with responsibility that should rest with another. They don't make men like my guy.
I could rave on and on. When the boys see him, they know hands down, he is a real live hero who at the end of the day will still hug two almost grown men and kiss them and tell them he loves them and means it every time.
Well! Things didn't quite go the way I expected. I started thinking about it and acknowledged some of the things I read on their 'blog' (I use that word loosely because it is actually one of those other spaces) and realized that it takes the better man to do the right thing. I know the request I made was heavy duty, but I stand by the request I made. I think after all this time, to ask one simple thing is not asking much.
I started thinking about my wonderful, wonderful husband and what a blessing it is that he is such a caring, loving father. Being a father is serious business. My husband is all about the business of being Dad. My kids are so different in the way they respond to their Dad. One is shy and brilliant. The other is not shy and hides his brilliance behind his stubbornness. It's the shy one that I want to talk about. He loves his Dad so much, he's always been there for him, almost every day of his life. He talks to his Dad about things he doesn't talk to me about. He knows he can depend on his Dad to provide for him both physically and emotionally.
You know my boy he proved the kind of man he was when Nita died. I never will forget that day for obvious reasons. I remember getting the call from Mom and she told me Nita had passed. I was distraught and freaking out. I called my own mother to try to get the courage to call my husband and inform him of the news. While I was on the phone with my mother a very mature, very strong young man used his cell phone and called his Dad to tell him his baby sister was dead.
How? How in the world did I get such a wonderful son? How did I get the privilege of being the mother to someone who has a good head on his shoulders and just seems to always do the right things even when it's difficult? It seems almost too perfect. I am not saying he is perfect, because no kid is. This kid though is the one who doesn't share his deepest feelings with anyone but his Dad. While his Dad was away fighting a war, he kept me straight. This kid, without being asked functioned as the young man of the house. I never ask him to do some of the things he's done. I remember one night I was all fired up over the 'baby' and was ripping him a new one. My boy came out of his room and said, "You got to bed and you go to bed." I was shocked. He just jumped right in there and in his own way and told both of us... no more bickering tonight, both of you just go to sleep. Like good little children, we both did what he ask.
It's so funny because I can never say too much about what my husband does while I am here in this space. He is my hero. I guess without completely outing what he does for a living I can say over the years I can distinctly remember certain things from over the years that just added to why I think he's such a stand up guy. I remember how bruised and banged up when he got back from one of the top tactical schools in the United States. Even before that though, I remember him driving 140 miles a day when he first started out and we still lived in "Hicksville" He's always done the things he's done to make sure he took good care of me and the boys. He does what a real man does. I remember when he found out he could do exactly what he did in the Marine Corps up here for the National Guard. He signed on the dotted line to take care of his family. It was pretty difficult for those first few years when both the boys were young. We didn't ask for others to help us. He willingly did what he had to do to make sure we were all comfortable and happy. It's that kind of dedication that is translated into why I feel like there isn't anyone else on this planet that could ever hold a candle to things he's done because he loves his family.
I can't believe that someone who works in the high stress environment that he does is so gentle and sweet. I'll only say these few other things about him. When you really think about it it doesn't seem real that the guy who loves kids and all of his nieces and nephews love always saying, "Uncle this and uncle that" is a trained sniper. I mean it, he's got the certificate to prove it, I tell you no lies. There are those who play war, dress up in camouflage and remember old times. My man is a combat vet, SWAT trained, and a former sniper (and those things barely scratch the surface of the things he's managed to accomplish while we've been married). It's insane because I never thought I'd be married to a man that women only dream of. If you like that dangerous really nice guy who's tall and seeps testosterone... that's my guy. And he's so nice, a gentle caring man who loves his kids and family and by day he's any boy or woman's hero. A man who married me with his eyes wide open, he knew what it meant when he took his vows. Not one time has he ever complained or suggested that he was stuck with responsibility that should rest with another. They don't make men like my guy.
I could rave on and on. When the boys see him, they know hands down, he is a real live hero who at the end of the day will still hug two almost grown men and kiss them and tell them he loves them and means it every time.
January 18, 2008
Am I too harsh
I was thinking about my post from yesterday and wondering if perhaps I was too harsh on the ole Associate Dean. I've been adding and tweaking a particular poem and maybe I am too fired up about race this week. NOT. Fooled you, you probably thought I was loosing my mind. It just fits in with the part of my poem I was stuck on actually. I kept thinking I can't pick on educators. It's the educators in this town that frustrate me the most. People who want to be called Doctor whatever and they have been more cruel to my family than anyone else. That darn Dr. McCurdy, just thinking about her and Mr. Blazzard just make me want to bop somebody. How do I express my frustration in verse?
I have so many lines that go through my head during the day. I want to say something about new voices and the chorus we can become if we come together for a common cause. I'm starting to get a little worried because I've been working on this particular poem all week and it is still not finished enough for me to say it accurately expresses what I want. I forgot how much tweaking is required to get my work where I want it. I don't honestly know if you ever finish something. Here's an example, I noticed when I was trying to balance one of my poems on the page that it had three or four sections of 15 to 17 lines. I thought wow I could pile another element to it if I can restructure the sections into 16 line sections. This is like a year after I wrote it. I guess it is part of the experience as I learn more I start to kind of think about the work.
This does relate to me being too hard on the Dean. The more I see so called educated people act a fool the angrier I get. Perhaps it has been my poor perception. I assumed that educated people were smarter than the common man. All these years I've assumed that people were cruel because they 'just didn't know' that what they did or said was wrong. This is what makes me even madder about the Dean thing. Educated people know better, after all, they spent at least a week discussing diversity (sorry that's a whole nother issue). To know better and disregard everything you are supposed to be teaching others is sinister in a way. Maybe not sinister but fake. Do people not realize that humans can always see through the cracks. I am not very good at reading body language etc. There are some people who can read the slightest differences and accurately interpret them. I am a firm believer that eventually your facade will come crashing down and others will see. Which of course leads me back to my we are all flawed speech.
Maybe I was too harsh on the Dean.
I have so many lines that go through my head during the day. I want to say something about new voices and the chorus we can become if we come together for a common cause. I'm starting to get a little worried because I've been working on this particular poem all week and it is still not finished enough for me to say it accurately expresses what I want. I forgot how much tweaking is required to get my work where I want it. I don't honestly know if you ever finish something. Here's an example, I noticed when I was trying to balance one of my poems on the page that it had three or four sections of 15 to 17 lines. I thought wow I could pile another element to it if I can restructure the sections into 16 line sections. This is like a year after I wrote it. I guess it is part of the experience as I learn more I start to kind of think about the work.
This does relate to me being too hard on the Dean. The more I see so called educated people act a fool the angrier I get. Perhaps it has been my poor perception. I assumed that educated people were smarter than the common man. All these years I've assumed that people were cruel because they 'just didn't know' that what they did or said was wrong. This is what makes me even madder about the Dean thing. Educated people know better, after all, they spent at least a week discussing diversity (sorry that's a whole nother issue). To know better and disregard everything you are supposed to be teaching others is sinister in a way. Maybe not sinister but fake. Do people not realize that humans can always see through the cracks. I am not very good at reading body language etc. There are some people who can read the slightest differences and accurately interpret them. I am a firm believer that eventually your facade will come crashing down and others will see. Which of course leads me back to my we are all flawed speech.
Maybe I was too harsh on the Dean.
January 17, 2008
Some might argue I am just too easily offended...
I've heard this argument that African-Americans are just too sensitive about race. The argument implies that we somehow are consumed with waiting for someone to make the tiniest race mistake so we can point it out and say. "Look, look, that person made a huge race blunder." This simply is not the case. I do not sit around with my thumb up my butt waiting for someone to offend me. It just happens, it's the nature of the 'I live in a backwards state game."
Recently when I remarked that I had no clue who Nikki Giovanni was my mother was shocked. She was shocked in one way but then again she wasn't. Let me further explain. Growing up, I did not see color, people were people, I came from California. Our motto was instead, trust no one. See that makes it simple, never make eye contact with bums, don't give people money because they are probably making more money begging on the street than you at your 40 plus hour a week job. Don't comment, there are nice people in Cali. My point is that it didn't matter, anyone can wrong or right you no matter what color their skin was.
Also, I hated going down South because they played by a different set of rules that rubbed me the wrong way. I wasn't so fond of the East coast because African-Americans seemed so radical about being Black, proud and the like. I never cared about skin tone all I cared about was how nice you were and that you weren't going to rip me off in some way. Well, I moved to glorious Idaho and suddenly the rules changed. I never cared about reading books by African-American authors before. I read what pleased me. It did not matter to me what the skin tone of the author was. I knew what I liked and enjoyed reading whatever I pleased. Thus, Nikki Giovanni's words would have been lost to someone who really didn't care one way or the other what color you were. Perhaps even I might have felt her words were too strong and old fashioned... the 1960s were so done.
So in 2008 I find myself being blamed for being overly sensitive. So be it. I am sick, sick, sick of people making snap judgments about me based on my skin tone. Of course I have a story for today. There I was walking across the Boise State University campus this morning, minding my very own business. What happens? Well, I am about 90% positive that an Associate Dean in one of the Colleges locked their doors when they saw me. This act is always a shocker. This is why there is the 10% of doubt that it was this particular Associate Dean. I was walking by and it was difficult for me to whip around that fast and verify the identity of the person that quickly. Just to satisfy the naysayers, there were not strange people lurking around I looked around in all directions several times to make sure I was the only person around. I wasn't in the parking garage, it was the main lot right outside the school where God and everybody see everything. I have seen this person around many times and I am sure they've seen me as well considering I stick out like a sore thumb.
This raises more questions than I can answer. How could this person not recognize me? Which stereotype was this person using when they locked their door. Are they untrusting of all African-Americans? Do they think we all look alike is that why the person did not recognize me? I can't answer those questions for this person. I am offended that a person who is in authority over so much could do such a thing. I was just walking by and as soon as the person saw me I heard the all too familiar click of all four car doors. I was not approaching the vehicle from the back or side, I was walking down the sidewalk and the front part of the person's vehicle was pulled in the space. Realistically, if I did try to approach the vehicle in any way it would not have been a sneak attack.
Why would someone do something like this to me? Why? I haven't gotten the door lock in quite some time. Do you know I go out of my way to help bigots feel more comfortable. In stores when ladies leave their purses in the fronts of carts, I steer clear so they don't get jumpy. FYI nobody from California would ever do something THAT stupid by the way, you are just asking to be robbed. Anyway, I live my life trying to duck under the radar and make people feel safe around me. What benefit is there to doing this? Obviously people still think I am going to rip them off or attack them. You know the last time I saw this person wandering around in my building I almost introduced myself because I would have been honored to meet them because they are an Associate Dean of one of the Colleges. Where is your honor Dean?
Recently when I remarked that I had no clue who Nikki Giovanni was my mother was shocked. She was shocked in one way but then again she wasn't. Let me further explain. Growing up, I did not see color, people were people, I came from California. Our motto was instead, trust no one. See that makes it simple, never make eye contact with bums, don't give people money because they are probably making more money begging on the street than you at your 40 plus hour a week job. Don't comment, there are nice people in Cali. My point is that it didn't matter, anyone can wrong or right you no matter what color their skin was.
Also, I hated going down South because they played by a different set of rules that rubbed me the wrong way. I wasn't so fond of the East coast because African-Americans seemed so radical about being Black, proud and the like. I never cared about skin tone all I cared about was how nice you were and that you weren't going to rip me off in some way. Well, I moved to glorious Idaho and suddenly the rules changed. I never cared about reading books by African-American authors before. I read what pleased me. It did not matter to me what the skin tone of the author was. I knew what I liked and enjoyed reading whatever I pleased. Thus, Nikki Giovanni's words would have been lost to someone who really didn't care one way or the other what color you were. Perhaps even I might have felt her words were too strong and old fashioned... the 1960s were so done.
So in 2008 I find myself being blamed for being overly sensitive. So be it. I am sick, sick, sick of people making snap judgments about me based on my skin tone. Of course I have a story for today. There I was walking across the Boise State University campus this morning, minding my very own business. What happens? Well, I am about 90% positive that an Associate Dean in one of the Colleges locked their doors when they saw me. This act is always a shocker. This is why there is the 10% of doubt that it was this particular Associate Dean. I was walking by and it was difficult for me to whip around that fast and verify the identity of the person that quickly. Just to satisfy the naysayers, there were not strange people lurking around I looked around in all directions several times to make sure I was the only person around. I wasn't in the parking garage, it was the main lot right outside the school where God and everybody see everything. I have seen this person around many times and I am sure they've seen me as well considering I stick out like a sore thumb.
This raises more questions than I can answer. How could this person not recognize me? Which stereotype was this person using when they locked their door. Are they untrusting of all African-Americans? Do they think we all look alike is that why the person did not recognize me? I can't answer those questions for this person. I am offended that a person who is in authority over so much could do such a thing. I was just walking by and as soon as the person saw me I heard the all too familiar click of all four car doors. I was not approaching the vehicle from the back or side, I was walking down the sidewalk and the front part of the person's vehicle was pulled in the space. Realistically, if I did try to approach the vehicle in any way it would not have been a sneak attack.
Why would someone do something like this to me? Why? I haven't gotten the door lock in quite some time. Do you know I go out of my way to help bigots feel more comfortable. In stores when ladies leave their purses in the fronts of carts, I steer clear so they don't get jumpy. FYI nobody from California would ever do something THAT stupid by the way, you are just asking to be robbed. Anyway, I live my life trying to duck under the radar and make people feel safe around me. What benefit is there to doing this? Obviously people still think I am going to rip them off or attack them. You know the last time I saw this person wandering around in my building I almost introduced myself because I would have been honored to meet them because they are an Associate Dean of one of the Colleges. Where is your honor Dean?
January 16, 2008
Still Upset
I'm still upset about this Troy thing. I'm more mad at Christy now. I talked to her and she said that Troy had been arrested on Friday. Did she bother to call anyone to tell us what was happening? No! I don't think she has a full understanding of the severity of the charges against her boyfriend or fiance. I keep thinking about the possibility of me not walking past the news at the time I walked by. It is very possible that someone from the family may have missed the news of the arrest.
How insane would that have been? You know I feel very upset with myself because I had plans to have the oldest of my little nieces come and stay with me so I could talk to her but I was too busy last semester. I called a couple of times to get her mother to have her come and stay with me but I never followed up.
Where does this leave me? This leaves me knowing that I need to listen. I was pushing so hard to finish school thinking that I had to hurry up and get my degree. Why? What I'm doing at work is better than what most fresh out of school people do. I stumbled on a job that includes Tech Comm experience. I use better programs than what I can get from taking one of the English classes designed to give me experience in the field. I don't need to push myself so hard that I can't do the things for my family that I need to. If nobody else is listening, then I'm all they've got. Very humbling really, very humbling to have to refocus.
How insane would that have been? You know I feel very upset with myself because I had plans to have the oldest of my little nieces come and stay with me so I could talk to her but I was too busy last semester. I called a couple of times to get her mother to have her come and stay with me but I never followed up.
Where does this leave me? This leaves me knowing that I need to listen. I was pushing so hard to finish school thinking that I had to hurry up and get my degree. Why? What I'm doing at work is better than what most fresh out of school people do. I stumbled on a job that includes Tech Comm experience. I use better programs than what I can get from taking one of the English classes designed to give me experience in the field. I don't need to push myself so hard that I can't do the things for my family that I need to. If nobody else is listening, then I'm all they've got. Very humbling really, very humbling to have to refocus.
January 14, 2008
Life has a way of blowing all out of control
I am livid right now. Anyone who knows me, knows I have a ton of nieces and nephews. Anyway, I just found out that the man pictured above has been arrested for rape. This happens all the time in any city in America. Well this buster has been living with my little nieces for the last few months. This guy 'allegedly' raped a 16-year old girl. The story broke on the 6:00 news. I called his current fiance, which is the mother of three of my nieces. She says he was arrested on Friday.
The more I think about all this the more upset I've been getting. I am livid because in the convoluted mess this is the fiance of course thinks the 'allegedly' Troy is not very guilty of anything. I find it interesting when people tell you stories. I went back to the Ada County arrest information for Friday and the girl who knew about the 'alleged' rape(s) was arrested at approximately 3:00PM. Then, the other guy involved was arrested at 5:00PM. Then the only person charged with rape... this buster that's been living in the same house with my three little nieces was arrested at 9:00PM. You don't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out what is going on. They would not have arrested this guy if they didn't have a very good reason to.
The other thing that makes me sooooo mad is that this 'alleged' rapist is one of the key witnesses in Nita's case because he was one of the other people in the car that survived the accident. This of course puts Nita's case in a huge limbo. The defense is going to have a field-day with this guy. I am so upset about this latest turn of events. As usual, click on the title to read the news story.
January 13, 2008
I shouldn't be this happy
We live on a street that is on the end of our power grid. That translates to, our power and our neighbors across the street are on two separate power grids. This has been mildly frustrating over the years because our power seems to go out more often than the people across the street. To make matters worse, the few street lamps on our street are on the other power grid. To verify that the power is out, we literally have to go outside and look down our side of the block for other lights because most of the time the people across the street are enjoying life with lights while we are in the dark.
Well, well, well... this time it's not us. I almost wet my pants with excitement when I saw we had power and this time our neighbors across the street did not. I so should not be happy that they are sitting around in the dark while I bust out a blog entry based on their despair. It's childish. It took everything I had not to go out to the middle of the street and shout at the top of my lungs, "This time it's not us!" I was cool and did not act out my insane happy dance in the street singing Neener...Neener...Neener, it's not us!
Ahhh the small pleasures in life. The last time this happened, we didn't get power back on until I finally called the electric company and reported that everyone else had power on my block. It seems that not only is our house on the opposite grid than our neighbors across the street but for whatever reason our house is on the same smaller grid as the houses directly behind us. It was crazy because I never knew we were connected to our neighbors behind us until the last time we had a power outage. It was about 1 AM and I got in the car and drove around looking at all the lights on. I was baffled as to why EVERYONE had power except us. The poor little receptionist who got me on the line when I called in the wee hours. I was dumbfounded to find out that we were somehow connected to people on a block we don't even live on. Welcome to Idaho; where nothing makes sense.
Well, well, well... this time it's not us. I almost wet my pants with excitement when I saw we had power and this time our neighbors across the street did not. I so should not be happy that they are sitting around in the dark while I bust out a blog entry based on their despair. It's childish. It took everything I had not to go out to the middle of the street and shout at the top of my lungs, "This time it's not us!" I was cool and did not act out my insane happy dance in the street singing Neener...Neener...Neener, it's not us!
Ahhh the small pleasures in life. The last time this happened, we didn't get power back on until I finally called the electric company and reported that everyone else had power on my block. It seems that not only is our house on the opposite grid than our neighbors across the street but for whatever reason our house is on the same smaller grid as the houses directly behind us. It was crazy because I never knew we were connected to our neighbors behind us until the last time we had a power outage. It was about 1 AM and I got in the car and drove around looking at all the lights on. I was baffled as to why EVERYONE had power except us. The poor little receptionist who got me on the line when I called in the wee hours. I was dumbfounded to find out that we were somehow connected to people on a block we don't even live on. Welcome to Idaho; where nothing makes sense.
January 12, 2008
Okay Girls
I've been listening to Mary J Blige's No One Will Do (there's a link to the words in the title of this entry.)
Let me tell you... after almost 17 years of marriage, my man is perfectly described by the words of this song. I couldn't ask for a better husband. He's absolutely fabulous. I can't sing a lick but I did serenade him with this song. He was either embarrassed or horrified by my singing. He looked so sweet or slightly constipated.
When you find the right person don't toss him by the wayside. We had our problems and we fuss and fight from time to time but he is willing to put up with my moody butt so you can't ask for more than that. I love how so many women are searching for Mr. Perfect. He does not exist babe. You need to figure out what you're willing to live with.
My guy is family oriented, loves the kids, changed diapers, fed babies, babysat and works very hard. I've watched over the years as he's made sacrifices for our family. He's given up things... back in the day when we were broke... he hocked a gun his dad gave him because he had to. He reminds me of my Pops.
I remember a Christmas when the workers were on strike at his job. My Pops did everything he could to make ends meet during that time. My Pops always knew how to hustle it. My baby has had a second job in the Guard for almost 15 years. He does it all for us. My husband is fabulous. He is the hero I always wanted. There's so much more to him today than when I first married him.
Just as a side note. If you are not a Mary J Blige fan you need to be. Definitely one of my girls. I love Diva music and she is a fabulous Diva, hands down. One thing I like is that her newer stuff calls women to be whole; she promotes knowing who you are as an individual and of course healthy loving relationships. Good stuff :)
Anyway, I came to the realization that my dudes are almost all grown up. I pray more than anything that they are as loving as their Dad. He is a wonderful man and if they turn out half as wonderful as him they will make their wives happy.
Let me tell you... after almost 17 years of marriage, my man is perfectly described by the words of this song. I couldn't ask for a better husband. He's absolutely fabulous. I can't sing a lick but I did serenade him with this song. He was either embarrassed or horrified by my singing. He looked so sweet or slightly constipated.
When you find the right person don't toss him by the wayside. We had our problems and we fuss and fight from time to time but he is willing to put up with my moody butt so you can't ask for more than that. I love how so many women are searching for Mr. Perfect. He does not exist babe. You need to figure out what you're willing to live with.
My guy is family oriented, loves the kids, changed diapers, fed babies, babysat and works very hard. I've watched over the years as he's made sacrifices for our family. He's given up things... back in the day when we were broke... he hocked a gun his dad gave him because he had to. He reminds me of my Pops.
I remember a Christmas when the workers were on strike at his job. My Pops did everything he could to make ends meet during that time. My Pops always knew how to hustle it. My baby has had a second job in the Guard for almost 15 years. He does it all for us. My husband is fabulous. He is the hero I always wanted. There's so much more to him today than when I first married him.
Just as a side note. If you are not a Mary J Blige fan you need to be. Definitely one of my girls. I love Diva music and she is a fabulous Diva, hands down. One thing I like is that her newer stuff calls women to be whole; she promotes knowing who you are as an individual and of course healthy loving relationships. Good stuff :)
Anyway, I came to the realization that my dudes are almost all grown up. I pray more than anything that they are as loving as their Dad. He is a wonderful man and if they turn out half as wonderful as him they will make their wives happy.
January 08, 2008
Me & Holidays
I've noticed of late that me and "The Holiday" celebrations don't get along quite the way we used to. 2007 wasn't the best of years for me. I wonder if I could go on strike. That doesn't exactly work when you have others to think about. I was happy to see 2007 finally go away. I welcomed 2008 with my eyes closed and dreaming about a future more promising than the past. School sucked for 2007 and so did many other things.
I thought I was ready to navigate my way through Thanksgiving and Christmas. I wasn't exactly. I had no willingness to put up the tree or do any of those other more traditional things. There were so many things that I did not express to others about how I felt. I darn near completely unravelled there for awhile. We do that with loss, we suppress enough to get by and when that doesn't work anymore the unravelling still begins to take place. What does the future hold? My future holds potentially more loss because we are not getting any younger. It's strange how that works, we come to a realization at a point in our lives where we switch over from not knowing loss to knowing loss so deeply that it consumes if you let it. I can see how people experience great loss and never recover.
I am thankful that I am in recovery. I am thankful that I am not hopeless. I look at what others have done to themselves as a result of the tragedy and shake my head because I know what they are feeling but cannot help them. I think the boundaries between hope and hopelessness is as delicate as the wind. One new airflow or change in the wind and any one of us could be hopeless. I think it is the hopelessness that disturbs me the most.
There is one person in particular and I know they are in the beginning stages of reevaluating everything about their lives. Maybe two people that are doing the same. I hope they are. I hope that they are starting to come to terms with their past. It is important to evaluate what is happening in order to get clarity. I know some people never look back at who they really are. They are the mirror avoiders. I know my shortcomings and though I am not proud of my failings at least I am honest enough to know that I am flawed and that I can't weave my way through life on my own. It takes more than what you find in yourself to make it. This is what gives me hope, knowing that I don't have to walk alone through my life.
It's that walk, that's why we celebrate Christmas right? Not for how much cash or credit we can rack up on gifts. We celebrate because of the gift Christ gave correct? I hope you didn't forget the reason for the season. Look forward to something. Don't go hopeless another day.
Eyes Up.
I thought I was ready to navigate my way through Thanksgiving and Christmas. I wasn't exactly. I had no willingness to put up the tree or do any of those other more traditional things. There were so many things that I did not express to others about how I felt. I darn near completely unravelled there for awhile. We do that with loss, we suppress enough to get by and when that doesn't work anymore the unravelling still begins to take place. What does the future hold? My future holds potentially more loss because we are not getting any younger. It's strange how that works, we come to a realization at a point in our lives where we switch over from not knowing loss to knowing loss so deeply that it consumes if you let it. I can see how people experience great loss and never recover.
I am thankful that I am in recovery. I am thankful that I am not hopeless. I look at what others have done to themselves as a result of the tragedy and shake my head because I know what they are feeling but cannot help them. I think the boundaries between hope and hopelessness is as delicate as the wind. One new airflow or change in the wind and any one of us could be hopeless. I think it is the hopelessness that disturbs me the most.
There is one person in particular and I know they are in the beginning stages of reevaluating everything about their lives. Maybe two people that are doing the same. I hope they are. I hope that they are starting to come to terms with their past. It is important to evaluate what is happening in order to get clarity. I know some people never look back at who they really are. They are the mirror avoiders. I know my shortcomings and though I am not proud of my failings at least I am honest enough to know that I am flawed and that I can't weave my way through life on my own. It takes more than what you find in yourself to make it. This is what gives me hope, knowing that I don't have to walk alone through my life.
It's that walk, that's why we celebrate Christmas right? Not for how much cash or credit we can rack up on gifts. We celebrate because of the gift Christ gave correct? I hope you didn't forget the reason for the season. Look forward to something. Don't go hopeless another day.
Eyes Up.
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