And...

Another week! Boy was I yucked out the last couple of weeks. I got bogged down with death and being disgruntled about everything. I finally had to take a step back, let my brain catch up with the constant movement of my life. I am so busy with kids, school, work, and home. I sat down with my boss so he could do my review. At the end of the review he ask if I had any questions or comments. I told him I was just happy to have made it through the last year. He had kind of an odd look on his face at first until he started to think about everything that has transpired over the last year. This time last year I was freaked out because Billy and who knows who else had broken into our house, my husband was gone away to a war I want to be OVER, and I was doing the single parent thing. So yeah, I was happy to make it through the last year.

We don't see things from a full perspective sometimes. We get shifted into little pockets of the last two to four weeks and view our lives in smaller increments. I am intrigued by the increments and how they become the judge of such large blocks of time. Why do we all do this? Is it a self preservation thing? A design characteristic that protects people from burnout or better yet, keeps us all stupid. Think about it! If you had a tough year like I did, why would you want to look backwards? Viewing our lives in small bites keeps us fresh and on our game. It also keeps us from being overwhelmed in a way if our lives are tumultuous. Joys and tragedies are often remembered too. I accept that, but looking at your life in small bits propels most of us to move forward.

Think about it a little and hopefully you'll see where I am going with this. If you can remember a very difficult time in your life, even if you are going through another difficult time you can take little snippets from other difficult times so that you don't feel hopeless. I know there are others that feel as if they are hopeless and that breaks my heart. For the most part people see themselves in this temporary slash shortened slash incremented state which in itself gives hope to many of us. I hope as you read today that you are not a hopeless person. Hopelessness is its own destructive state of being.

If you are hopeless, downsize your thought. Make it through today, the next, and the day after. You'll make it, all of us do, providing we still want to move forward. I just really feel it on my heart to tell you unknown person, hope is possible. I'll be real honest with you, you must have faith in God. People seem to think themselves above faithfulness in a God they can't see. It's really a hilarious notion when you think about it. I was having a conversation with one of my boys and we talked about Nita's dad. For many years he's wanted nothing to do with church or anything preachy. Death though is a funny thing, it makes you question what you REALLY believe. Not many people are comfortable with denying the existence of God when someone close to them dies.

Nita's dad has said, "she's in a much better place...she's looking down on us right now," okay that's all fine and good but you cannot deny that there is a God completely and make a statement like that. Question yourself and what you think you believe. I've got some really bad news for you. If you believe that people die and go to heaven, you do not believe in nothingness. I've even heard people say things like, their spirit this or that. Okay, you don't have to be a rocket scientist to know that if you believe that people have a spirit that it had to have come from somewhere.

What whacky tabacky are you smokin? Think about it some more and come to terms with the fact that if you believe that people go to heaven, and/or people have a spirit then... you are in God denial not a person who doesn't believe in the existence of God. It sounds so ugly doesn't it? People want to say that they question if there is a God but want all the cool stuff that goes along with believing He is real. Maybe that is how people feel hopeless. I don't know, I am not a hopeless person. I know that everyone struggles to put the pieces of their lives together. Everything about our lives doesn't all have to make sense, being overly concrete maybe is what makes people say crazy things like a person is in Heaven but then try to deny a creator of heaven. As an educated person, I say go straight to the source, remember men were all created equal which makes me just as flawed as you.

Get Happy!

I've written and deleted like three posts already. I am slightly a mess. School is tough and on top of that I just want to finish. I didn't think it would be this difficult when the light at the end of the tunnel was so close. I just need to get happy. Listen to some music, write some poetry or something and live. I was almost prepared to stay in my distructive funk. What good will come from living in a funk do? I don't want to dwell in that place anymore. Running in the opposite direction does work.

Be encouraged my friend, take one day at a time, you'll make it. Hour by hour sometimes is all that we can muster, oh well, just keep going. Don't give up on yourself, you'll make it

Get Happy! That's what I'm gonna do.

Without A Cause

I feel a little unsettled. I absolutely have no causes or rants right now. Shocking for some to believe. People will be people and I accept that. I don't accept that people should just sit around and not do anything to improve something about themselves. When i sat down to start writing this a few minutes ago I thought I didn't have a cause or anything worthwhile to write about. I think there's an idea rattling around in my head. I added this picture of Chris. When we take these kinds of pictures in our family we call them "the money shot" because if we were professional photographers photographs like these would bring in the cash. What else could this picture say?

Christian is a fairly decent little runner. He's not the very best but he can hold his own and he enjoys running. He made it to the Idaho State Cross-Country tournament. I look at this photograph and I know that four days a week during the summer these kids got up and ran on their own at 8:00 am. I know that he has run better this year than last year. When he came across that finish line it meant much more to him than he'll ever express to me. Oh of course we all hear stories of personal perseverance all the time but when is the last time as an adult to acknowledge that you've made it through another hurdle. We only seem to rub our brow and say, "oh thank God I made it through that," when we face tragedies or 'adult' things. What about the 'kid' things?

We look at our own personal accomplishments as the expected. Our families expect this or that from us, but what do you expect from yourself? I can only speak for myself. I find, especially since I have kids, that so much of my identity revolves around them. I hadn't noticed how I do manage to bring balance to my life and identity though until now. I do let my focus linger around my kids and their accomplishments. I try not to steal their thunder when they accomplish goals and dreams. I have my own personal accomplishments and even my 'kid' victories. There is no denying that when I walk into the laundry room after way too many hours of washing clothes and I say to myself, oh man I managed to get ALL of the laundry done today, it is a victory. I hit that finish line like Christian did and know that a task that was important to me was completed. It seems small but it means so much to me to get the laundry done.

What am I attempting to say here? I want to say that we should all be more cognizant of our little day to day victories that are unseen by others and even the ones that are but we don't talk them up like the BIG adult victories. We do so much for each other within families and as friends or communities. Don't lose your focus. There are so many people out there that are walking around without focus or beating themselves up because they feel like their lives have no value at all. It's towards these people that I feel so much sorrow. Life is short--even for the young (Nita reference). Be thankful for your small childlike accomplishments and stop being so much of an adult every now and then. Live to the fullest, it's really worth it.

Come To Terms

I was thinking about the pain experienced by the women in my husband's family. I think about his sisters and how most of them were molested by a family member. Yeah, I wrote that. I said it out loud in my own way. I fear sometimes that one of his brothers or sisters will stumble upon my blog and have to read some of the things I've written here. This time though I almost hope in a way that they will read about themselves.

At first I couldn't understand why this tragedy happened to so many of them. I realized recently when I was talking to one of the sisters that they never felt protected by a father figure (just to put everything to rest now it wasn't the father who did this to them). The one sister that I talked to said she remembers a particular day when she was a little girl and this person took her off somewhere and she's blocked everything out except the dress she was wearing. I imagine her with her pretty little dress blowing in the breeze and this monster leading her away by the hand.

I'm almost at the point in my life where I am ready to say something to the person who did all of this. Of course it would cause a HUGE family stink but who cares at this point. I watch MY SISTERS all suffer because of what one person did to them. In total I think it happened to 5 of them. Five women forever changed because of what one person did to them. I see the devastation caused in their lives. As an outsider looking in I understand them all a little better. A couple of them went to the 'adults' in the family but nobody stuck up for them. I won't write down why this happened but let me tell you it was one messed up situation. They need to deal with this though.

I must get ready to close but one of the sisters told me that she couldn't wait until a particular person was dead so that she could confront her attacker. We live with family secrets and things we don't want to talk about. Unhealthy things.

Revisiting A Far Far Past

Someone said something at work yesterday and it made me think of 'the band' so I went out onto the internet to find the web address for Long Beach Junior Concert Band (LBJCB). I ended up finding a link to youtube. Wow!

All I can say is what would LBJCB be without its drummers? The memories flooded back and I ended up finding all of these links to different videos. I wish I could say that everyone with a video camera knows how to use it but the footage is not the best but I hope you will feel the essence of the pride they've felt about themselves over the years.

If I've done this correctly, you should be able to click on the title and see one little video of LBJCB Drummers. If I've really done this correctly you should be able to see a set of links to the right that will take you to multiple videos of LBJCB Drummers. I think I will look through some of my old stuff and see if I can bust out a picture to post to go with the links next week.

Dawn

Best Image I've Seen

This is by far one of the best images I've seen. I was just minding my own business, doing my job and I found this page in the 1976-1977 Boise State University Catalog. I don't need to write about this one, the picture says it all.

We Had A Discussion....

This morning I was driving one of the kids and we got off on a discussion about blackness. I love that kids are so profound. We were talking about hair this morning because one of my kids has the most beautiful curly brown hair and after the very nasty frowhawk he came home sporting one day his hair is finally getting long enough for him to have a nice style again. Anyway we immediately moved into the discussion of hair and some of the mixed young girls about town. Okay I am not going to point any fingers or anything but if your child is black and you have no clue how to take care of her hair, you need to learn. I have seen some of these kids, pretty babies mind you but their mamas don't know how to take care of their hair. It is amazing that even with the information super highway you still see some of these little girls and their mothers don't know how to manage the wildness that mixed hair brings. I am mortified because I know how important it is for little girls to fit in to some degree but the hair is dry, wild, and quite frankly.. nasty.

Though my kids are not girls, I can tell you that mixed hair is a breed of its own. My brown haired boy is a classic example of this. I have to stay on him about which products he can and can't use on his hair. One of the last things you want as a black person is dried out hair. I've seen plenty of the little girls walking around with some tore up hair. Poor things, I know that it has to be so frustrating for them to have this hair going fifty-thousand directions that hurts when it's combed, breaks off in chunks because there is no product on their hair etc. (This is so not the direction I was going to take but let's get it out there),

You know me and my links. I went out to a website and got a down and dirty link for you. As usual click on the title above to familiarize yourself with some tips for caring for African-American hair. By all means if you know somebody who needs help refer them to this website. Some of the tips are comical. I love the one that talks about how to handle the tangling problem. Check out the last line on that tip.

You know this is a touchy subject for people. The last thing that any mother wants to hear is that she doesn't know how to care for her child properly. Hair is a big issue. I am just tired of seeing these little girls about town with beautiful hair but the parents don't know how to take care of it. I think the reason that this bothers me so much is that I have a little cousin who hands down has the most beautiful hair I've ever seen on a child. Her tresses are long and beautiful like her mother's hair. I just couldn't imagine what she'd look like if her mother didn't know how to take care of her hair. Her hair is so long and beautiful that her mother keeps it in ponytails most of the time. On those rare occasions when she does wear her hair down I've heard that the poor child risks neck injury from swinging her hair around. I mention this because to some degree, MOST not all but MOST little girls want to look special and feel equally so. We are Americans and we do care about our appearance and one day that little girl is going to grow up and want to have nice hairstyles.

I'll finish this up. One of Nita's little friends that lived next door was mixed. That girl had some wild child hair. I ask her mother if she wanted me to come over and show her how to care for her daughters hair. She was very receptive to the idea because she was frustrated and so was her daughter. You know, I've seen this girl a couple of times and she's kept up doing her hair all these years and she looks so pretty, she's got confidence in herself etc etc. I also remember when I was in high school and one of my friends Areatha. I know my Mom remembers Areatha. That girl had some naps on her before we were friends. Anyway, I remember I showed her how to put some product on that mess she had. It was like a whole new world for her. I remember that she kept up relaxing her hair all through High School. I know from being her friend that she felt better about herself. It seems trivial in a way but it's really serious.

People like to have nice hair, even my boys try to have a little something going on with their hair. I look at the old pictures of myself and my mother took such wonderful care of my hair. Of course I did not appreciate it at the time. Mind you this was back in the pressing days too and I hated getting my hair pressed. The worst part of it is the heat when your hair is still a little wet and you have to get that comb next to the scalp. Anybody remember those days?

Top of the mornin' to ya!

Things are blah for me it seems. If you noticed, I allowed Nita's movie to kind of pass down further on the page. I kept it as the first item you'd see on my blog for about 3 weeks. I've been under some pressure by Al's family to get some reprints made of her program. I haven't done it yet. I need to get on that. It's been hard to readjust to being back in school, working, keeping up with the family and so on.

I am just kind of making it right now. How is it that in our society we don't hold any value in 'just making it' as a productive state? Do you like how I called it a productive state? It is a productive state though because I am not moving backwards. I've got homework bleeding through my skin practically, plus work, plus kids, plus little things that come up. One of my sisters called yesterday and she has to go to a meeting tonight. She has like four frickin' kids. They vary in ages but she kind of wants me to keep an eye on her kids while she's at the meeting. No big deal but of course I start thinking about how much homework I could get done in the three or four hours of time that it will take to watch two or more of her kids. She ask me if I could watch her older girls which is totally no big deal, they are not that difficult to keep an eye on. But! She's got two babies, one is just a few months old and the other is two. She said she talked to somebody who is conducting this meeting and they said she could bring the little ones.

It slipped out but I did say, "Oh, you better leave the little screamer with me." The screamer is her youngest boy by the way. He's not as much of a screamer as he used to be but he can be quite a handful. There is no way in good conscience I can let her go to a professional meeting with him in toe. If she wants to take him, fine, whatever but it would go very, very bad, guaranteed. So, I think I will have three little kids on my hands tonight.

In some ways, I am 'just making it' but in other ways I see myself experiencing personal growth. Maybe I just have the wrong perspective. I want to move faster and do better and all of those adult things that society tells us we should be doing. Who am I to conform right?

Yes, I am moving on from Nita's death. I am sometimes 'just making it' but I've watched as some of the family is still floundering. I can't let myself just flounder going around in circles. It's hard because I have to always be cognizant of the fact that the rest of the family is so much younger and has never had to go through this death mode. Some people just act a fool when someone dies. Others do seem to step up and realize that others do continue to live.

I guess if I have to write something somewhat profound today I would say that 'just making it' is not a bad place to be. At least you can find comfort in the fact that you aren't moving backwards, and that my friend, is progression.

Top of the mornin' to ya.

It just does, accept it!

Often times when I come to this space, eventually something that I write comes down to race or more specifically, blackness in the white experience. I was walking in for work and started to contemplate why. Things bother me. The other day, I was in class and a person said in essence, "I don't mean to put you on the spot because you are the only black person in class but let me put you on the spot anyway." Why is this that people know that what they are doing can make me (us) feel isolated but they do it anyway? I realize that it is a learning process for others and I am cool with that but only to a certain extent.

Walk a mile in my shoes one day. I noticed over the weekend that with everything going on in Louisiana that relationships between blacks and whites was questioned on CNN. I just looked to see if I could find the same statistics that they quoted yesterday on CNN and they were nowhere to be found. The way that people feel about each group is startling. Way more blacks feel racism is a problem than whites. I want this information known because it is important to understand that in the black community we say that there are still problems but if we do not address these problems as Americans we can't possibly expect to usher in more change. As long as the group that has historically said, "Hey look there is a problem." is still saying there is a problem then the chances are, there is still a problem.

From my own experience, I have been a victim of more racism living in Idaho more than any other experience in my life. I let many things go. I get so sick of the 'oh here she goes again' eye-roll that I get from people. When and how do we have to present it to others so that they can understand it more fully. How many times do I or one of my kids have to endure "Nigger" being shouted at us from passing cars before someone truly understands that one incident is one too many? I didn't ask for that. Catch a clue people. If I hear one more person say something terrible about 'Mexican People' I am going to blow a gasket. People see my face and lovely brown skin and figure they are in good enough company to say horrible things about hispanics in my presence. Most of the time I am way too shocked to respond the way I'd like to.

So yeah, I am going to keep talking about race and how I do or don't fit in because my skin is so brown. You can ask anyone that has known me for a considerable period of time and you'd find that I was never an outspoken person when it comes to race. I never really voiced much at all because where I grew up, primarily the problem was not as deep rooted as it is here in Idaho. I will not let the discussion die. I just can't let the discussion fall by the wayside as something we don't talk about. I look forward to the next time somebody says or does something that is slightly inappropriate. I challenge everyone, black, white or otherwise to speak up in defense of people who just want to live a life free of the hang-ups of race. As a country we have so many other things to combat like bringing troops home, poverty, lack of access to health care etc.

Think about it folks. Click on the link in the title.

I should be reading...

I should be reading right now. I had the most traumatic week that I've had in a long time. I thought about it and why this death seems to have been harder on me than Pops. It hasn't really been any harder on me. I figured it out though that it is the performance element that makes it different. With Pops, I had no demands that forced me to write; no papers due etc. As most of you know, Pops being gone is still very rough. I have periods of depression that I go through. I don't think it will ever get better now. Pops died the day before Mother's Day and we had Nita's memorial service the same calendar date Pops died, and to make matters worse, it was again the day before Mother's Day. Every Mother's Day, how can any of us not think about Jonavan? Al's family will figure it out. I hate Mother's Day. No presents or things my family does has made it better yet. Thank goodness this past Mother's Day though nobody could muster the things needed to make any attempts to cheer me up. I don't even remember Mother's Day at all.

I've been on a writer's high so to speak for about four days now. I have a poem on my poetry blog that I keep tweaking ever so slightly and I think it is growing into something. Got a little good music going. Oh check this out, a guy in my class wrote something on his Blog about not being able to listen to Morrissey and write good poetry. Of course I had to listen to some Smiths today. How dare he. I am impressed that he knows who Morrissey is though. I always dreamed that I would be in my car and some guy would be listening to the Smiths and that guy would be the perfect guy for me. It never happened, I ended up with Mr. Classic Rock instead. I finally met someone in Idaho who even knew who they were and it turned out to be my boss. That doesn't seem funny with me writing it but anyone who knows my boss will find it very funny. I never got my Smiths listening prince that swept me off my feet but it's great when you and your boss like the some of the same music.

Just in continuing with what my classmate said, maybe he said that because a person would be spending too much time 'jamming out' instead of writing. I don't think he meant it that way but it's worth a try. I guess it would depend on what kind of mood you were in. If you want to write about bad love you could listen to Strangeways, Here We Come (which I am listening to right now). That's good for writing about relationships gone wrong. I am just rambling, it is good though to write and not feel restrained. I took some things my Poetry teacher told me to heart. I went over to the library and got some Maya Angelou. I got audio so I could work and listen at the same time. It was interesting because my instructor told me that I needed to dig deeper. I didn't get that at first but I finally got it when I worked and just listened to the poems being read. It's one thing to read them to yourself but when the content is heavy you must wrestle the thing down to the ground, choke out the last bit of life it may have left and display its head like a conquerer. Explanation? I was wrestling things to the ground but when it came to really going in for the kill I haven't gotten there yet. Once I get past that point...I need to display his head outside the city gates. That my friend is what listening to Maya Angelou did for me today.

I took it for granted how much I learned from the old folks. They taught me so much about what it really means to be black. Being black and raised in the West poses its own set of unique problems. As Westerners we seem to be loosing our connection with the older culture more and more. It is vital that we pass down our rich histories to the younger ones. They mustn't forget the struggles and hardships people have gone through so me and my husband can walk down a street hand in hand without hanging from a tree by the midnight hour. I'm fascinated by my personal family history which I've all but given up on because of how much time school takes. I am going to have to really put the pressure on my Mother and Auntie to tell the old stories as best as they can remember them. The people that hold these fantastic stories are leaving us. As Westerners we need to back up and reconnect with these important oral histories.

I'll say one last thing about how important they are. Not everyone knows that my maternal grandmother left an audio cassette recording where she only went through the family history for about ten minutes. Those ten minutes were the most precious minutes of my life because they allowed me to track so much information about my family. The short tape was pivotal in my research. Enough said, but I remind my kids as much as I can that their great-grandpa was in WWII but he was only allowed to serve in one of the jobs that the Navy let us serve and upon his return, I never will forget he told me that he was walking across the bridge going home and he had his uniform on and he was spat on.

I don't tell my children these stories to say oh look how bad we've been treated. I tell my children that they have a rich heritage and they should never take it for granted that people lost their lives to secure their free future, as black men in America. When we as a people are spending our time gang banging and the rest it sickens me to a degree because I know that it took over 100 years for us to be truly free and in the span of 30 plus years so many have forgotten the sacrifices made on our behalf. So yes the words of Maya Angelou touched me in a way that they may not touch young Western girls and boys unless they have been raised with a deeper understanding of who we really are as a people. That of course cannot be achieved unless we are also able to put a name and a face on our personal histories. When we know our connections it helps us to feel like we do belong to something much bigger than we imagined.

God Bless

Mac users, update Safari

Are you a Blogger and a Mac user (God Bless if you are)? I updated my Safari at work so I could benefit from the updated 'Find' feature but noticed something else in the process, I noticed that whenever I was logged in to do a post that I had more options at work than I did at home (this was one of the primary reasons I didn't post much from home anymore). Anyway, if you haven't updated to the new Safari you will find that you are Blog challenged; you won't be able to load videos, etc.

I've included the link if you click the title above. Enjoy the new options available. Now I can be bold or in italics. I can even do the block quote thing.

"Linguistics can be defined as the principled study of language as a system. Linguistics employ specific methodologies and theoretical frameworks for investigating the system of language. As a social science, linguistics incorporates both scientific approaches to language as a system and a focus on language." (Berg 11)

Update!

My home

Ah, I feel so warm and cuddly. This is where I generally lay down a hefty rant. My rant of sorts today is the happy poetry space created for joy, joy moments. I can't take it anymore! Listen to me, it's the second week of school and already I am melt down mama. Already, I know that tomorrow I am going to have to figure out how to disconnect my spaces. Silly me, that is what I get for popping up a blog so quickly. I really should have thought that one through more.

It's all phooey if you ask me. How can a person possibly be asked to talk about questions you may have and issues about your poetry without talking about things you've workshopped in class? It is impossible and I revolt. I don't revolt as in not do the assignment revolt but I revolt here. I listened while my poem was talked about and everyone individually hit on points that were so the intention of the poem. My bad for working out my own issues. I was so proud of that poem it represented every pent up non-poetic moment of my entire summer. People need ties it seems though, they need neat connect the dots that lead them from point A to point B.

I'll add the lines to make people happy and comfortable but it taints everything. I love this one, giving that connection between how when a person dies you immediately go back to a particular moment with that person. Yeah, try being that six year old little girl that busted her chin on the monkey-bars. That WAS the moment. I can't help it if by circumstance that that is how I will always remember Nita. Mother and I lamented with the same memory of Nita. I am just disgruntled that I have to come out and say, she was sixteen years younger than me and though we were ONLY related by marriage, I watched that little girl grow up. So I did all the right things in the poem but just didn't spell it out quite so clearly by saying something like...

sister-in-law, sixteen years my junior

Now the whole Lily thing, problematic I know but in some betwixt way one of my fellow students got it. How do you change knowing that someone got it but then consider scrapping it because they think they don't get it. He TOTALLY nailed it. How do you keep that straight face knowing that people have gotten it but in that same assessment they are saying that they don't get it.

I just had been so closed off because of the Nita thing and I finally breached that barrier only not to be able to talk about it. I would have been more comfortable if everyone would have said they didn't get it. This one kills, the beginning sounds like a newspaper or the TV news. Yeah and we saw the crumpled car on the news, channel 2, 6, 7 and 12. We listened to her name when they said two died in wreck.

This leaves me in the unknown zone. I've pretty much already resolved that I am going to leave the Nita poem alone because it is much too painful to revisit knowing that people got it but not being able to say a darn thing on the 'fake poetry place' created as the unused living room where guests come to sit but the family never uses. I hate my poetry place.

I am not that mean?

As you well know, every once in awhile people just rub me the wrong way. I know you are shocked but it happens. I am not having a good month or something. I went to a meeting today and a 'supervisor' type has been in a meeting with me and twice she has acted a fool. The first time it happened I thought it was just an isolated incident, she was new, etc. She is generally nice to my face but was rude to me when I brought up a very important point in a meeting.

Continuing on with today, well, it happened again! Now, I am just plain mad...stars and fire mad. I was dumbfounded with her attitude. It wasn't so much that she was mean to other people she was only mean to me. That racist blah, blah, blah. I figured it out. I love how people will 'put up' with you but as soon as intelligence or any other number of descriptive words I could use that indicate I am not THEIR average, this woman has the nerve to think I am dumb. Well jokes on you missy! I am loud, proud and black, african-american, or whatever your closet sheet toting attitude wants to call me.

You know, as usual, some would say that I am taking it too far and that not everything comes down to race. At first I thought perhaps it was just a bad day the last time or a miscommunication etc. This time though I watched and observed as everyone else went around the room and she answered their questions in a civilized manner but when it came to me she was flat out rude. How do we let people like this get into positions of power that require good leadership skills and integrity? It wouldn't be so bad if she was just any old jane but she's not. She is a very good example of the deep-rooted teachings of the LDS church. Oh, she is LDS through and through and they pride themselves on being so nice etc. Listen here though honey, I KNOW that y'all didn't allow us into your church and it has just been until recently that you started letting us in. The fact of the matter is that all those old LDS 'keep it white folk' are still in your church.

I'm convinced that she thinks I am stupid because I am black. I could look for an apology today but it didn't really happen the last time and I don't expect it to happen today. Though without mentioning her name I feel a bit 'vindicated.' Nothing though will give me more satisfaction that to watch her squirm when I do have future professional and personal successes. See this is what people don't understand, one of the worst things you can do to us is to treat us as if we are dumb. I come from at least the third maybe forth or fifth generation of proud African-American women that have endured and accomplished the impossible. We've done things that people never expected of us.

I Want My MTV

I could talk about so many different things but I have teenagers and I decided to see what new videos and messages MTV was giving kids these days. Boy oh boy there are no videos going on there anymore. MTV has caved and crumbled into a heap of garbage TV. If you choose to tune in you'll now find music videos have been replaced with a constant stream of reality television. Cribs, Wild n Out, Rob and Big, Real World Road Rules Challenge, Real World Las Vegas Reunited, Scarred, Pimp my Ride, Runs House and other shows as well. It is all now meaningless TV designed to tantalize and capitalize on sexual exploits, vulgar language and over the top non-reality passing as someone's real reality; as if there is such a thing left in this world.

I watched and watched for hours waiting for the Music Video Television to play some music videos. Instead, I saw X-ibit and his customization crew put various over-the-top gadgets in cars. Video monitors, new sound systems, new paint, expensive rims and tires, the transformation was real but how real is it for the kids watching these shows? Who can afford to do these amazing things to their own cars? X-ibit touted something called, "Hater Vision" which is video monitors in the headrests of cars or trucks where nobody in the interior of the cars can see the video monitors only anyone riding behind the car or truck.

The latest show, X-effect is even worse. X-effect is a show that takes two couples that are currently dating and pulls the ex-boyfriend and ex-girlfriend from the new couples and gives them a weekend together to see if there are any sparks between the old couple. The cruelty continues by having the new people in their lives watch and listen to what goes on. At the end of the weekend, the "old couple" has to choose if they want to stay with the person they are currently with or go back to the ex. I watched a couple of these shows and was flabbergasted. There was this one girl who was beautiful, absolutely beautiful, she was the black girl I always dreamed I could be, great hair, perfect smile, and just a beautiful woman. She ended up fooling around with the ex-boyfriend. At the end of the show, she chose to dump her current boyfriend in favor of her ex-boyfriend. Her current boyfriend who was huba huba, was furious with her and even more furious when she told him she wanted to be with the other man.

In the end, the ex-boyfriend wanted to stay with his current girlfriend and this beautiful woman was left with nothing. This scenario played out again the exact same way with another couple. I just thought of all the possibilities and how cruel the show was in general. What kind of message are we sending to young people? "Hit it and quit it" is fine for a man and as a woman we should accept the cheater back. I've got news for you young ladies, it takes a mature and secure man to take you back once you have cheated on him. Though we hope not to see ourselves as commodities in a man's eyes there is still a certain amount of possessiveness that many men still hold within themselves. We still hear it in their language, "find the right girl and settle down." As much as we do not want to admit it, those words still imply a certain amount of possession. I sound archaic I know but it is the truth. If you don't believe me, watch the show and see what happens.

As American young people once upon a time we'd watch crazy videos. Two that come to mind are Duran Duran's Hungry Like a Wolf and The Love Shack by the B-52's. Crazy, funny, happy times. I could even stand to watch a hair band. I want my MTV back. I don't want guys and girls sitting in a big air conditioned RV waiting to go on the 'Next' speed date with a good looking guy or girl. When a music video does actually come on from time to time just once could I get someone to hold the writhing and bleeped out language? The Moon Man has gone, your old MTV that served up generous helpings of hair bands, pop, new wave and R&B now gives way to an overdose of nonrealistic unreality to show kids that the outrageous is the norm.

Nice Guy and Total Jerk

We have a family friend who is seen as just an all around nice guy to some but a complete jerk to others. I tend to lean more on the all around nice guy side when it comes to this young man of twenty-three. At least I feel this way this week. I've seen him in both realms. This week though I think he is a nice guy. People do not give him credit for being as caring as he is.

Don't you just love young people? The thrill of being gung-ho about yourself and confident that you know everything that life will throw at you. Fully deceived by your own unwillingness to listen to anyone but yourself and your friends who are the same age. This dark haired man is tall and lean with a winning smile that has charmed the pants off of one or two ladies, more like ten or fifteen no doubt but that's his secret and I really don't want to go there. I am not one of them. I'm old so he's more like the little brother type.

Anyway, he got into a big tiff with his brother and parents last night. They attempted to expose all of his demons but he in turn questioned theirs. As you may have guessed, this never goes over well. Then add a little alcohol to the situation and needless to say it turned an ugly shade of reality that nobody wanted to face. My nice guy/jerk friend was devastated emotionally by the way he was treated by his parents when they attempted to point the finger at him. He retaliated or came to his own defense and reminded them that there were four fingers pointing back at them. Eventually, he honestly broke down. Between the stress going on in his life and the lack of support from anyone he felt like his life was emotionally bankrupt. I am hurt that he was wounded this way.

What does it take to bring a strong-willed man down to his knees? Only the disapproval and accusations of the people most of us hold most dear--our parents. He was correct in his assessment of his own life and asking why his parents are so upset with him for modeling much of the same behavior he saw from them as he grew up. It was a truth hurts epiphany that nobody was willing to discuss but him. I was not there but herd the blow by blow account from one of my 'Drama Queen' friends that witnesses the entire affair. She explained how hurt he was.

I can only imagine the fire flickering and then extinguished from his eyes. Eyes can tell so much and he wears his emotion right there in his eyes. He may have a shaggy beard one day, a clean cut goatee the next, maybe baby-faced and bare the next day but all of his emotions wait to be discovered behind his brooding brows that are the final sentries that protect him from others. This was no bump in life, in my opinion, I think they tried to kill him, a little prize for his honest assessment of how his failures really are part of the failings of his parents. For me, the entire experience solidifies the idea that words can be so harmful to others. It made me shake my head and think no wonder he is all screwed up. He had no choice but to be a dysfunctional adult. Recovery?

I hope he can recover from this terrible tangle with truth. There are all of those catchy bumper sticker and poster sayings that assure you that life is tough but if you buck up enough you can overcome the obstacles of life. What if he can't and what about all of the others who never recover from the hurtful words and disapproval inflicted by the ones you love the most? I want to tell him that I know what happened to him, and mother him in some way and tell him he's a good kid on the verge of great things in his life. People do not always accept these words as truth from friends because they know that most generally that their friends like them. I hope that when I am able to talk to him about this that I can express myself in a way that will not demean him as just the old motherly friend.

You betcha though he can be a real jerk. This guy is too kind and ladies see things in him that make them crazy in love with his smile and his dark wavy hair. He's not exactly a love them and leave them type he's more of the love them and string them along until one girlfriend finds out about the other girlfriend. This gives him just the right amount of jerk quality. I guess as long as you are not romantically involved with him you are safe to call him an all around nice guy. At the end of the day, he will always help a friend in need and is a hard worker, he broke his hand in a scuffle with a guy (his neighbor) when the guy was assaulting his girlfriend in the other apartment. The neighbor told him to mind his own business and my friend showed the guy what it was like to get beat up. He risked life and limb over a woman he didn't even know.

He's rowdy when he drinks but fun when he's not. At twenty-three he's seen more than I ever want my own kids to experience in a lifetime. At the end of the day, I hope to get the chance to talk to this young man and instill some wisdom and confidence in him, he needs to be able to love himself. In my opinion, his parents should be glad that he has not vowed to turn his back on them completely after the things that were said. A lesser man would have walked away forever.

Others

This week we are supposed to write about 'others' or someone/something other than you. As you know, my 'others' are people who are not African-American.

I am happy to report that Damali Ayo is correct in her assessment of 'other' than African American people. I tried the hairstyle pictured just to test her theory that people love to touch ethnic hair. There is truth to this. This experiment has started a little slow but I hadn't been out of my office much yet this morning. Whamo! My very first outing I got a taker.

Incident # 2

She pushed her chair back from her desk, beaming with excitement. "Oh your hair looks great!" Slowly she inched forward. towards me. It It was incredibly difficult for me not to give the 'don't you dare touch my hair' face. I usually wear it with a badge of courage daring anyone to reach my head without a gentle slap. I did not panic nor give the vile look.

"Is this the way you hair really is?"
"Is this the way your hair looks when you go to bed"
"How did you get it to do that, did you just twist it around?"

(Those are real comments by the way)

I did not panic. The excitement and enthusiasm people have this morning as I roam though offices with my new quaff has been amazing. "Your hair looks really cute." My prime target did not touch my hair but she moved towards my desk debating whether or not it would be rude or workplace appropriate to touch. I observed her jerky body movements, it reminded me of an automatic car left to idle forward at a light when the brake is only halfway released. She just kept getting closer and closer without reaching her hand out. I could build an entire scenario around this but I won't. I am amazed that it really is true though. I could not imagine the horror that someone who wears a more natural style must go through every day.

What Damali said is funny but hauntingly on point. She explained that people don't even ask permission before they touch. They fondle you like a new toy or child needing careful inspection when they are injured. Worse, as if assessing your worth at a slave auction. I waited to hear, "Open your mouth" so the buyer could inspect my teeth also. I know that today will bring more comments, ridiculous questions and perhaps more touches. My boys have explained that they get sick of people constantly touching their hair all the time. How long will others not realize that touching someone in that way is not appropriate? I would say that I didn't ask for anyone to inspect me in this way but I did. The question though becomes, if any African-American wears their hair in any ethnic style though does it automatically give others the right to demean you with their actions.

Incident #1

I must back up and explain the scenario from yesterday. Yesterday I brought in a picture of my husband with Nita's little boy propped up on the handlebars of his motorcycle. He is obviously a white baby, very cute with stunning blue eyes. I walked them around in the office and also showed them to anyone who approached me at my desk. Some people automatically knew who he was which impressed me. This shows that they do at least care about me as a person. The shocking thing that really took me to the true nature of the 'others' was the fact that only three people ask his name. On the surface it would seem that my experiment failed but it did not.

I found it interesting that people didn't even care about who these people were exactly. I was touched by the three people who ask who he was and his name. I offered as little information as possible to people and let them do the talking instead. The most outrageous comment I got was, "Now is this your little boy."

I haven't decided yet what the next experiment will be. The day is not over and I plan to make a couple more rounds around the office so as not to miss anyone for todays quaff theory. Some other interesting notes though, a "brown" man (a Caribbean nation I think, it will make sense in a minute) passed through the hall and another man who knew him validated yet another theory of Ayo's. She says that people feel like because you are African-American or in this case a dark brown skinned Caribbean man that they can speak your language or what they think is your language.

This guy shouts above the roar of other voices in the building, "HEY MAWN" I casually shook my head and thought, oh Damali you are so right.

Oh goodie, I get to rant first

This weeks assignment is to write about an other. Well now I can get into that. Other. How about other than white in Idaho. Oh wait that is already me. I think I will just toss out some stereotypes this week and see how people react to them. If you haven't read January 2005 "Email to Junior High Principal, Vice-Principal, 8th Grade Counselor and Teacher" I highly suggest that you read that archived entry.

The story gets more shady because the teacher in question called my home and read me the riot act later that night when I sent the email to the school. If things could not get more bizarrishly freaky he used the line, "but some of my best friends are black what will they think of me?" I know you are shocked to hear that. I know how shocked you are to hear this.

It is late at night and I am writing this, I so feel like outing his butt (that would be posting his name here). The only thing I am afraid of is getting sued. Anyway that jerk denied he ever made the statement.

It gets better! As the end of the next school year came to a close, that teacher's son wrote the "N" word in my sons yearbook. Hmmm? Not a racist eh?. I would like to write about the 'others' this week. I think I will target all y'all that I know are racists (Yeah we know. At some point the racist ones always show their true colors). Don't give me the sigh and eye roll. This is real. Two years in a row I had the "N" word come back in a junior high yearbook (in 2005 and 2006) so don't even give me that sigh. Been called the 'N' word more times living here than any other time in my life. Truth!

So my goal is to say pose certain questions in a group format around some y'all that I know are racist and see how far you'll go to step on yourselves. The one that I usually smoke them out with is by talking about Mexican people. I think all brown people in Idaho should unite. You spy for me and I will spy for you. Generally speaking though some of my hispanic friends and I converse and trade notes from our 'suspect' list. There is this one person I have in mind and I know she gets her sheet out from time to time. Not literally but figuratively. I can not create a fictitious story and that is difficult for me not to, I don't want expose all of the trade secrets.

I think I will base this weeks research off of the book pictured above. Fabulous book by the way. I will take some of the scenarios from the book and just ask people's opinions. Kind of a poll but different. I have to give Damali Ayo her shout out. Amazing writer, amazing book, amazing and more amazing. Okay enough ranting. I have linked the above title to Damali Ayo's website so click on it if you are interested in her book or her work in general. Brilliant, brilliant concept and writer.

Grief, Eating, and Living Again

Grief

I keep obsessing on Nita's death but I know that it has been less than a month since it happened. I keep trying to balance that with my 'real life' emotional state. There are so many ups and downs in the grieving process. The scariest part of all is that I know how I react to extreme emotional stressers like this period of grief. This time I chose to share that photo that circulated with her obituary. Now do you get it? Beautiful, beautiful girl. I see that face and it haunts me. (Click on the title above to read the newspaper story.) My new mantra is, "Don't beat yourself up, it has been less than a month."

Eating

Okay, this Los Beto's thing is getting out of hand. Again my husband comes home with his carne asada burrito from Los Beto's. I keep thinking about having to cruise over to a coffee shop or something to write tomorrow for an assignment but instead all I can think about is my Los Beto's experience. There is an article hanging up in the restaurant raving about the food and lamenting because the writer feels like since they are open 24 hours, they need a restaurant downtown to be closer to the drunks. Somehow they find their way to the other locations though. I thought about a late night or early morning trip myself to sit there with my laptop and write. It has to be much more interesting than hanging out in a coffee shop. How about a nail shop. I do need to go and get my nails done this weekend.

Think about it, all of these crazy sectioned places we go. One time I was in the nail shop and heard how this girl had just dumped her Marine boyfriend. She just could not handle his war experience.

I'd better focus more on my Los Beto's experience. Oh dang I almost forgot there were these two girls in there maybe eighteen, most likely younger. Okay now, I can understand feeling like you are totally cute and wanting to share that with the world but there are limits. This one girl had on shorts, maybe I should just call them underpants. They were barely shorts. Why? Maybe I am just getting old but it seems like people feel free to wear less and less clothing in pubic places. Freaky girl had on panty-shorts. They provided a little more coverage than panties but you could barely call them shorts. I won't belabor this too much more but she thought she was TOTALLY Miss Thang. I often wish for a Los Angeles breakawy moment at times like these. My family does not allow me to do the 'loud talk thing'. I felt the words begging me to blurt something out but I restrained my tongue. Gross! Check it, panty-shorts make you look like a complete fool.

Okay, this is even freakier. Who sunbathes in the Quad at BSU? It took me like ten steps after I passed her and then I thought, what, wait a minute why is she laying out in the Quad in a bikini? People are weird or I am old. I don't think I am old I just think people are strange. Don't even let me get started on the skin cancer and the premature aging that will come form the sunbathing. Sunbathe now, Botox in 15 years when you are all shriveled up. Thank goodness, good black don't crack. I think of it as a natural savings plan.

I better stay on topic. Eating, Los Beto's burritos and the experience I had. Oh, just save it for next time.


Living Again?

I think I am.

The Finer Things in Life

Okay today was the ultimate of all days ever! I know as soon as I pen this story I will have to live with the live with the consequences of what I write. No problem!

Here's the deal.. Once upon a time we lived in Oceanside, California because Camp Pendleton was our home away from home so to speak. Anyone who has ever been stationed at Camp Pendleton, you can say Carne Asada burrito and instantly it brings memories of Alberto's then it switched to Umberto's at some point. Just to give me some credibility points here Google it, type in Carne Asada Burrito, Oceanside. Anyway, we have driven 200 miles out of our way while vacationing in California just so we could get our Carne Asada fix.

Our town sucks when it comes to Carne Asada Burritos. We have searched for fourteen years to bring that same ultimate pleasure back to our lives. We've tried every 'Authentic Mexican' food joint in town and to no avail we have always come up short. Or shall I say everyone else here in town has come up short. Oh my goodness, today my wonderful husband surprised me with the ultimate pleasure of all pleasures. I know what you are thinking but it involves food people. Anyway, he said he stopped off at this place Los Beto's and said that it came highly recommended and he ordered a couple of Carne Asada Burritos. Of course I was expecting something close to a Bert's sullied with beans and rice and whatever else these freaks think makes a great Carne Asada confection. To my shock and pleasure it was similar in size, same homemade tortillas, great carne asada meat, no beans, no rice, just tomatoes, cilantro, onions, and tons of carne asada meat.

Okay, I know it sounds ridiculous but we have searched and sampled for 14 years to recapture the ultimate taste of all tastes. I wanted to take out an advertisement that said, "Calling all Camp Pendleton Marines, carne asada burritos just like home do exist in Boise!" Shout it from the rooftops. Amazing, amazing and more amazing. It was by far the best thing ever. I told my husband that someone had remarked on the internet that it was better than sex and he of course agreed that the burritos were great but not quite that great. I didn't say it of course someone else did but man the burritos are fabulous and it is as close to the Oceanside sun and beach I've been to in 5 years. Fabulous, more fabulous and just phenomenal. It has only taken 14 years for us to find them but it was worth every year of agony to finally find the ultimate California pleasure.

The way it just melts in your mouth is indescribable. I have to call it a confection. It isn't a confection in the traditional sense but it is a rare treat. I haven't had one in 5 years and it was worth every bite. Try this on for size. My husband loved them so much that that is what he wanted for dinner tonight. We are both like kids in a candy store.

Carne Asada Burrito from Los Beto's is a finer thing in life.

The Pink Flower Trees Are Green

What happened to spring? It is so cold and gloomy. Yesterday I sat outside and watched the rain come down and nearly froze to death also. When I came back in, I pulled up the ole widget and realized it was only 49 degrees outside. That did not include any consideration for the vicious wind that was also blowing. Trust me it was chilly.

It was kind of strange because I've noticed that I love the sun. The sun refreshes me. As much as I try to hide my roots, somehow in my brain I still think that it should only be cloudy in the morning, break by ten and assume a reasonable amount of sunshine by early afternoon. Perhaps I should not complain about the weather so much because it is supposed to be hot again by the weekend. Why do we all do that? We complain when it is too hot, we complain when it is too cold etc. But who determines perfect weather. I believe the perfect weather consensus is somewhere in the mid-70's. I am not sure about that but I do believe that most people would agree that mid-70's is perfect weather as long as the sun is shining and the wind does not blow you over.

What about the landscape intrigues me? Well, I love to take photos of the environment, good and bad. Okay, I do need to stop myself for a minute and explain that I also take pictures of the odd, bums, car accidents (which since Nita's crash I may reconsider that one), and anything else that seems interesting. The great part of 'going digital' is that you don't have to print all of those pictures if you don't want to. I love it because shots that don't turn out as beautiful as you hope you can just delete them and not waste time or money on garbage.

Obviously today I am all over the world and back with my train of thought but it feels nice to not be so restricted to the mundane for this weeks writing assignment. Outdoors can be so inspiring in a way. I miss that I didn't get pictures of tulips this year or the pretty pink flower trees I walked by everyday and vowed to bring my camera so I could catch them before they turned green. I missed my chance, the trees are filled with fresh green leaves now. Perhaps it is a reminder of how we should treat other people. We don't know how long they will be with us. We can't put it off. Maybe the thing you are holding onto, to express to another person only lasts a season. It that is the case then don't let that season change color on you before you do what's in your heart. Tell others how you feel even if it is somewhat painful to do so.

Fond Memory and Healing

Again and again with nonstop thought about Nita. Today we went to Café Ole and all I could think about was Nita. Al and I sat there talking pleasantly to one another and I simply remembered. We were there looking at one another and eating and chatting about what…I really don’t quite remember.

When we walked up to the restaurant doors I remarked to Al that I only think about Nita about 50 times a day. I understand the process of grief but it still doesn’t quite help me understand her death. My faith and my humanness collide endlessly as I try repeatedly to understand that life is going to be okay without her.

That day we picked Al up from the airport sweet Nita was there. My husband is such a wonderful big brother. To Café Ole we went, a family tradition that was birthed by some tradition we started when my mother comes to visit. Al wanted to show his little sisters how ‘we roll.’ I recall the two of them, Nita and Lou Lou sitting across that big booth table with us. They loved the food. Nita said she would have to get her boyfriend to bring her there because the food was so much better than the place where he and his family always went when they are in town.

What did we hope to accomplish by going there again today? I am not sure, for me I can say that it was a way to remember her again perhaps. She was so beautiful and happy, and filled with the same old fiery fun that made her so special. I regret that she was so much younger than the rest and I had not learned to appreciate her so much because she was just the baby. One of the young ones that still made mistakes and bad choices, and all the other things that young people do.

Listen to me, I sound like some old lady but it was difficult to appreciate her because she was so young and distant in some ways. Nita idolized her big brother and loved him because she was proud of the man he’d become. How did she feel about me? I am not really sure but I can say with a clean conscience that I was proud of her and one of the last conversations we had was about how proud I was of her and to keep up the good work and finish with her schooling goals.

Sweet, sweet, girl who touched so many lives. One thing that I will say is that she was sort of like me in one way. She touched people on an individual level. She took on her brothers and sisters one by one and made each of them feel special.

So, what did I accomplish today? I was able to stare death in the face again and tell it that it cannot steal me away down the road of grief and despair forever. I told death today that people live on, and we can walk down some of the same old pathways and remember those we’ve lost without being overcome by the ravages of what death brings. I know that it is not a one-day process and I won’t wake up in the morning not remembering. Today only about ten times did I debate in my head about her being murdered. It sounds so obscure on the page, almost as obscure as it sounds when it is voiced to another.

We will all survive this time and over and over again I keep thinking that I want to write something special about her. What do I write? What will best help my little nephew to remember or acquaint him with who his mother was to each of us? She touched so many people individually that I don’t think I could ever collect all of the stories.

Earlier today, I sat on my porch and wondered what I would write about today. What can one say? I believe in a God. I believe that bad things happen to good people. I told Al today that it was remarkable that Nita had lost so many babies before my nephew, at least three previous miscarriages that I know of. Maybe that was her one HUGE purpose in life was to give life to her son.

My Summer Online Journal

Hey there great folks. Yeah right, nobody has been reading because I have been away. Well, I have a class this summer, ENGL 401 and we are required to do a journal five days a week. I am on day three and I figured instead of just writing in my little private journal that I would go ahead and keep my BLOG updated for at least the summer and then I could just post on here a couple of times a week. Time management you know.

It has been a very tragic last couple of weeks. Nita passing away is still a very raw emotional spot for me. For those of you who don't know what happened, my baby sister (my husband's sister actually) passed away suddenly. She was in a car accident (crash, it was no accident) and was killed. I have been going through various emotions. The hardest part for me is to realize that yes she was murdered by someone. To come to terms with the fact that someone intended to stop the vehicle any way they could which is murder. I cannot begin to grasp how someone could not think that hitting someone else in a vehicle with your vehicle could result in death or serious injury. Mike Martin killed two people as a result of this careless act.

To make matters worse, what I did not realize until it was mentioned to me that all of people involved had children and now there are two generations that are effective by one persons actions. Collectively we are talking about five children I think who for one reason or another will not have a parent in their life because of one persons actions.

I've been thinking about how I could properly memorialize her and what I could do. I am thinking of writing a little chap book or something where I interview some people and write a section about Nita based on each person's views. I need to do this while memories are still fresh but not while wounds are too deep. I want to do something for my little nephew that will never see the beauty others saw in his mama. It pains me greatly to know that that poor precious child will not be able to enjoy having his mother in his life.

I want him to be fifteen or sixteen and be able to say this was my mom, this is what she enjoyed, this is what she was like, all because we (his family) and me are willing to take the time to chronicle a legacy for him. That my friends is my next writing project.