It's been a while since I sat down to have a go at this blog... I must admit that I've been cheating on Facebook. I've found that I enjoy taking photographs of obscure things and posting them. I also enjoy sharing quotes and the like, to lift the spirits of the reader. So...I'm just hanging out tonight. Bills are paid, laundry's completed and Oscar Peterson is playing softly in the background. It's been a good day. I'm about to pour myself a glass of vino and wind it all down. Ever have the feeling that the sky's the limit? I'm talking about that serene feeling of "It's all good". Where nothing is actually pressing or bothering you? Contentment. Yeah... I believe that's how it would be characterized.
Right now, on this small facet of space and time, I am content. And, I'm savoring it. Aren't you the lucky one who gets to peer into this space? I hope I'm getting my point across to you and that you're feeling the calm vibe that is contentment. It's just you the reader and me the blogger...
Nice huh? Okay Cuz...your assignment is to project this contentment out into the world for the next 2 hours without using words.
Be Well
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Relaxing on... my balcony
Today is Saturday and I am relaxing on my balcony. It's quiet despite all the regular noises... It's funny how you can really miss so much by not taking time to simpy relax. I'm rather enjoying myself out here. The weather is absolutely awesome and there is a stillness here. I'm grateful for that...
I mean, I'm really grateful for it. I can actually hear birds chirping. Amazing. And I only thought you could hear birds chirping in suburban areas with big back yards, white picket fences and trees. Lots and lots of trees. Not so. I guess if I can shop at Costco and see birds flying around inside the warehouse, I should be able to hear them chirping in their own environment. This is really good and I can see myself blogging right here in my own space... alot. Uber cool. Ya think?
This is sooooo liberating. It actually means that I don't have to go off to some lofty place to write. I can be home, with all its comforts. I can be looped in and detached all at the same time. Lovely. I guess you can tell by my post that I'm in a good place. Hope you are too. :)
Be Well
I mean, I'm really grateful for it. I can actually hear birds chirping. Amazing. And I only thought you could hear birds chirping in suburban areas with big back yards, white picket fences and trees. Lots and lots of trees. Not so. I guess if I can shop at Costco and see birds flying around inside the warehouse, I should be able to hear them chirping in their own environment. This is really good and I can see myself blogging right here in my own space... alot. Uber cool. Ya think?
This is sooooo liberating. It actually means that I don't have to go off to some lofty place to write. I can be home, with all its comforts. I can be looped in and detached all at the same time. Lovely. I guess you can tell by my post that I'm in a good place. Hope you are too. :)
Be Well
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Crossing Over...when it all began
Let me start off by saying that I grew up in a segregated neighborhood. I don't think it was so much by force as it was by my family's choice. In those days people didn't mix much. It was just the way things were.
So, my first two years of formalized education were on the "black" side of town. It wasn't until second grade, at the tender age of 7, that I had my first real encounter with someone white. I was bussed across town to a different school. I would no longer attend Newbold Elementary, which was less than a mile from my home. My new school was Margeret Willis Elementary.
It seemed brand new to me. I remember the first time I used the water fountain, nearly recoiling because the water was so cold. We never had that luxury at Newbold. Was water supposed to be cold coming from a school fountain? Apparently, it was something reserved only for white children who attended white schools. It was like being "let in" on a well kept secret. I felt lucky, confused and angry all at the same time. Eventhough I was young, I could tell when something wasn't quite fair. Their cold water didn't seem fair somehow and each time I took a drink I felt a little guilty.
I scrambled to make sense of it all utilizing my 7 year old logic. I wasn't really sure why we had to be bussed to Margeret Willis and it didn't make sense that we had to go to a school that was half a world away from my familar "brown" surroundings. But that's what the grown ups had decided and we went without a fight. Well, I went without a fight. My elder siblings who were in Jr. high (Washington Drive Jr. High) spoke of riots and minor rebellion. They were bussed to Horace Sisk Jr. High School. I was mostly shielded from it all and took everything in stride.
We never talked about white people in my home so I didn't have much to draw from in order to prepare for the Margeret Willis experience. In my 7 year old psyche, I wasn't even sure if I had anything in common with white people. They were just different. That was that.
It wasn't until there was a fire drill at Margeret Willis that I had an epiphany. Each teacher led a long, single file line of students out beyond the black top to a grassy area and it was there that I saw him. There he was, a white boy with white blond hair and blue eyes. He was doing what most boys did during fire drills- acting out.
Suddenly, and to my surprise, his teacher rounded on him, snatching him up and back into line. And he frowned. He frowned. And it was in this frown that I found a kindred spirit. And with surprise and resolute wonder I thought "Wow, they get mad just like we do." Just like that I had come to the conclusion that we (meaning blacks and whites) are more alike than unalike.
I've kept that with me from that day till this (and it still holds true). So fast forward a bit and you will find me having lunch with David Bachelor (wonder whatever happened to him), then square dancing with Malcom Bullard and being BFFs with Paul Tyler and Maryann Dunham.
Yet and still, I hadn't actually been bitten by the interracial dating bug. I still didn't think of white guys as "datable" because it just wasn't done. They were outside my race and therefore off limits in a heavy handed, unspoken way.
Then, there was Barry. We talked for hours on the phone. He had to be the hippest white boy I knew. If I was ever gonna date one, it would have been Barry. He as soooooo cool. In fact, he was so cool that the black guys at school had it in for him. He had swagger and was therefore competition. But then, there was that nasty business about him stealing his grandmother's car and driving all the way to my house from Tennesee. The police were waiting for him when he arrived. I never saw or heard from him again. And that was the beginning of the end of my first potential interracial relationship.
So, I guess you could say I had an okay foundation for dating a white guy but I wasn't actually smitten until much later. It actually "happened" to me as a teen, without my really realizing it. And it wasn't until a month ago this year- as a woman in her 40's that I realized when it happened.
Last month I cracked open an anniversary copy of "An American Werewolf in London" and as I watched this movie for the second time, it was then that I realized when I first "fell" for white guys. Yep...it was David Naughton and Griffin Dunne who did it. All those many years ago. They jointly moved white guys into the dating arena for me. It was a silent takeover.
I have to admit it made me laugh when I realized this while watching the movie again. I mean the movie is a cult classic in its own right but watching it unfold on my big screen television, it was patently clear. These guys were tall, handsome dark haired hotties with gorgeous eyes and bright smiles and they were backpacking in a foreign land. They were having an adventure that seemed far away from my little corner of the world in Fayetteville, NC. What more could a girl ask for? This is a question that I'm asking myself now.
It's quite comforting to come full circle like this. It gives me goosebumps and helps me stay connected to my inner self. It also just goes to show there's always something to learn about yourself. That it's never really too late to connect your past with your present. The exercise is definitely worth the effort. I promise you'll be the richer for it.
During the time I was hanging out with Barry, my mother asked me if I could find a black boy to date. Maybe she was just worried for me. I'll never really know. Guess that was a scary time for her. She reserved further comments regarding Barry and gave permission for me to see him. She was probably the age I am today when all this was happening. Funny.
The best part of all of this is that I now may freely give the teen that was "me" so long ago, the expressed permission to both, be herself and to be happy, no matter her mate's, race, color, creed or religion. Without any hesitation, I can cup her face in my hands, look her straight in her eyes and give her my blessing.
So, without any assistance, discussion or permission from others, I officially give the younger and now older me the expressed permission to be myself and to be happy, no matter my potential mate's race, color, creed or religion. This is a form of freedom. And I happily exercise my right to be FREE.
Be Well
So, my first two years of formalized education were on the "black" side of town. It wasn't until second grade, at the tender age of 7, that I had my first real encounter with someone white. I was bussed across town to a different school. I would no longer attend Newbold Elementary, which was less than a mile from my home. My new school was Margeret Willis Elementary.
It seemed brand new to me. I remember the first time I used the water fountain, nearly recoiling because the water was so cold. We never had that luxury at Newbold. Was water supposed to be cold coming from a school fountain? Apparently, it was something reserved only for white children who attended white schools. It was like being "let in" on a well kept secret. I felt lucky, confused and angry all at the same time. Eventhough I was young, I could tell when something wasn't quite fair. Their cold water didn't seem fair somehow and each time I took a drink I felt a little guilty.
I scrambled to make sense of it all utilizing my 7 year old logic. I wasn't really sure why we had to be bussed to Margeret Willis and it didn't make sense that we had to go to a school that was half a world away from my familar "brown" surroundings. But that's what the grown ups had decided and we went without a fight. Well, I went without a fight. My elder siblings who were in Jr. high (Washington Drive Jr. High) spoke of riots and minor rebellion. They were bussed to Horace Sisk Jr. High School. I was mostly shielded from it all and took everything in stride.
We never talked about white people in my home so I didn't have much to draw from in order to prepare for the Margeret Willis experience. In my 7 year old psyche, I wasn't even sure if I had anything in common with white people. They were just different. That was that.
It wasn't until there was a fire drill at Margeret Willis that I had an epiphany. Each teacher led a long, single file line of students out beyond the black top to a grassy area and it was there that I saw him. There he was, a white boy with white blond hair and blue eyes. He was doing what most boys did during fire drills- acting out.
Suddenly, and to my surprise, his teacher rounded on him, snatching him up and back into line. And he frowned. He frowned. And it was in this frown that I found a kindred spirit. And with surprise and resolute wonder I thought "Wow, they get mad just like we do." Just like that I had come to the conclusion that we (meaning blacks and whites) are more alike than unalike.
I've kept that with me from that day till this (and it still holds true). So fast forward a bit and you will find me having lunch with David Bachelor (wonder whatever happened to him), then square dancing with Malcom Bullard and being BFFs with Paul Tyler and Maryann Dunham.
Yet and still, I hadn't actually been bitten by the interracial dating bug. I still didn't think of white guys as "datable" because it just wasn't done. They were outside my race and therefore off limits in a heavy handed, unspoken way.
Then, there was Barry. We talked for hours on the phone. He had to be the hippest white boy I knew. If I was ever gonna date one, it would have been Barry. He as soooooo cool. In fact, he was so cool that the black guys at school had it in for him. He had swagger and was therefore competition. But then, there was that nasty business about him stealing his grandmother's car and driving all the way to my house from Tennesee. The police were waiting for him when he arrived. I never saw or heard from him again. And that was the beginning of the end of my first potential interracial relationship.
So, I guess you could say I had an okay foundation for dating a white guy but I wasn't actually smitten until much later. It actually "happened" to me as a teen, without my really realizing it. And it wasn't until a month ago this year- as a woman in her 40's that I realized when it happened.
Last month I cracked open an anniversary copy of "An American Werewolf in London" and as I watched this movie for the second time, it was then that I realized when I first "fell" for white guys. Yep...it was David Naughton and Griffin Dunne who did it. All those many years ago. They jointly moved white guys into the dating arena for me. It was a silent takeover.
I have to admit it made me laugh when I realized this while watching the movie again. I mean the movie is a cult classic in its own right but watching it unfold on my big screen television, it was patently clear. These guys were tall, handsome dark haired hotties with gorgeous eyes and bright smiles and they were backpacking in a foreign land. They were having an adventure that seemed far away from my little corner of the world in Fayetteville, NC. What more could a girl ask for? This is a question that I'm asking myself now.
It's quite comforting to come full circle like this. It gives me goosebumps and helps me stay connected to my inner self. It also just goes to show there's always something to learn about yourself. That it's never really too late to connect your past with your present. The exercise is definitely worth the effort. I promise you'll be the richer for it.
During the time I was hanging out with Barry, my mother asked me if I could find a black boy to date. Maybe she was just worried for me. I'll never really know. Guess that was a scary time for her. She reserved further comments regarding Barry and gave permission for me to see him. She was probably the age I am today when all this was happening. Funny.
The best part of all of this is that I now may freely give the teen that was "me" so long ago, the expressed permission to both, be herself and to be happy, no matter her mate's, race, color, creed or religion. Without any hesitation, I can cup her face in my hands, look her straight in her eyes and give her my blessing.
So, without any assistance, discussion or permission from others, I officially give the younger and now older me the expressed permission to be myself and to be happy, no matter my potential mate's race, color, creed or religion. This is a form of freedom. And I happily exercise my right to be FREE.
Be Well
Monday, February 20, 2012
On laughter being the best medicine...
I'm readily able to find the humor in things but there are very few times that I actually laugh from my gut. I pride myself on being a "happy" person but believe I could use more laughter in my life. I mean who couldn't use a little more humor in their lives?
I recently watched the movie "The Bridesmaids" and honestly? I can't remember when I laughed so hard. It was great. In fact, when you laugh that hard, I believe you reach a different level of consciousness. It may not be higher but it's definitely different.
I laughed so hard that I cried- which proves to me that joy may not be wrapped in pain but they run right into each other as you come around the circle. Joy and elation can be like pain but in the best possible way. It's like a high that you chase. But for some odd reason, we don't realize that we need it on a daily basis.
We think that side splitting laughter is only reserved for those rare times that we see a comedian live or watch a funny show. Not so. We should be willing to give ourselves over to humor at a moments notice. Yes, laughter should be given full access to our emotions and the permission to cause us to convulse whenever possible and socially acceptable.
I can remember laughing at a Boost Mobile commercial centered around a a big girl and a "do it yourself" pole dancing kit. It was completely hilarious and I laughed until I cried. There were other people who didn't find it so amusing- but that commercial really did it for me. No holds barred laughter. I look upon that time fondly.
There was also that time this girl fell off a table in that youtube video. Her fall was so unexpected. I mean, I knew something was going to happen, I just didn't know what. When she hit the ground, I hit the ground. Both lying there...one in agony, the other ecstasy. It was pure bliss I tell ya. Pure bliss.
Everyone should feel this way. Everyone should feel what it feels like to "crack up" laughing. It's so good for you and truly is the best medicine. It changes you from the inside- and makes all your little cells jump for joy. If you haven't had an opportunity to laugh really hard within the last week, I would suggest you do so- post haste. You only have one life to live (for right now). LYFAO!
Be Well
I recently watched the movie "The Bridesmaids" and honestly? I can't remember when I laughed so hard. It was great. In fact, when you laugh that hard, I believe you reach a different level of consciousness. It may not be higher but it's definitely different.
I laughed so hard that I cried- which proves to me that joy may not be wrapped in pain but they run right into each other as you come around the circle. Joy and elation can be like pain but in the best possible way. It's like a high that you chase. But for some odd reason, we don't realize that we need it on a daily basis.
We think that side splitting laughter is only reserved for those rare times that we see a comedian live or watch a funny show. Not so. We should be willing to give ourselves over to humor at a moments notice. Yes, laughter should be given full access to our emotions and the permission to cause us to convulse whenever possible and socially acceptable.
I can remember laughing at a Boost Mobile commercial centered around a a big girl and a "do it yourself" pole dancing kit. It was completely hilarious and I laughed until I cried. There were other people who didn't find it so amusing- but that commercial really did it for me. No holds barred laughter. I look upon that time fondly.
There was also that time this girl fell off a table in that youtube video. Her fall was so unexpected. I mean, I knew something was going to happen, I just didn't know what. When she hit the ground, I hit the ground. Both lying there...one in agony, the other ecstasy. It was pure bliss I tell ya. Pure bliss.
Everyone should feel this way. Everyone should feel what it feels like to "crack up" laughing. It's so good for you and truly is the best medicine. It changes you from the inside- and makes all your little cells jump for joy. If you haven't had an opportunity to laugh really hard within the last week, I would suggest you do so- post haste. You only have one life to live (for right now). LYFAO!
Be Well
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Thoughts on connnecting...
Have you ever wondered why social networking has taken off? It has to have something to do with the fact that we just don't know how to talk to each other face to face anymore. We would much rather sit at home and pretend that we're really conveying something deep and meaningful, when all we've actually really done is reduce one another to 144 characters or less.
We've twitterized each other. Don't get me wrong. I enjoy Twitter just as much as the next Twit-Head but god...we are losing the fine art of conversation.
Not to mention the fine art of penmanship. Ask the average person to write something by hand and you'd swear a doctor had written you a script for medication. People do not know how to write anymore. I'm talking about the physical act of writing. There can be no doubt that we are losing something. I'm concerned. Am I the only one concerned about this seemingly innocent situation?
We have to be losing something- some brain function is going underdeveloped, what with all this typing, texting, friending and liking.
Pretty soon we will be tethered to our desks at home, having virtual dinners (that we cook ourselves). Our dates will gaze at our plates through the webcam or scan through the menu we sent hours earlier, via email, then slide their credit card through a slot in order to pay for our dinner (because they're taking us out to eat).
I know it sounds far fetched but I don't believe I'm too far off the mark here. The thought of not connecting with another human being on an intimate level, face to face, frightens me. What has happened to deep and meaningful? How deep can you go through your pc?
In our technologically advanced society, we are forgetting how to relate to one another on a human level. We all have to be "plugged in" or risk being left out, side-stepped if you will. It's sad.
I'm totally mourning the loss of conversation and that face to face connection. I may be able to see your eyes through the webcam but I'd much rather see them in person. You get more out of it that way.
We are forsaking one mode of communication for another. We should cultivate both. We need both for the sake of our society. One day, we're going to wake up and find that it's gone. And, while I don't wish to go back to the Dark Ages or any other oppressive time, I can agree that some things from the past are worth preserving.
The fine art of face to face conversation is one of them.
Be Well
We've twitterized each other. Don't get me wrong. I enjoy Twitter just as much as the next Twit-Head but god...we are losing the fine art of conversation.
Not to mention the fine art of penmanship. Ask the average person to write something by hand and you'd swear a doctor had written you a script for medication. People do not know how to write anymore. I'm talking about the physical act of writing. There can be no doubt that we are losing something. I'm concerned. Am I the only one concerned about this seemingly innocent situation?
We have to be losing something- some brain function is going underdeveloped, what with all this typing, texting, friending and liking.
Pretty soon we will be tethered to our desks at home, having virtual dinners (that we cook ourselves). Our dates will gaze at our plates through the webcam or scan through the menu we sent hours earlier, via email, then slide their credit card through a slot in order to pay for our dinner (because they're taking us out to eat).
I know it sounds far fetched but I don't believe I'm too far off the mark here. The thought of not connecting with another human being on an intimate level, face to face, frightens me. What has happened to deep and meaningful? How deep can you go through your pc?
In our technologically advanced society, we are forgetting how to relate to one another on a human level. We all have to be "plugged in" or risk being left out, side-stepped if you will. It's sad.
I'm totally mourning the loss of conversation and that face to face connection. I may be able to see your eyes through the webcam but I'd much rather see them in person. You get more out of it that way.
We are forsaking one mode of communication for another. We should cultivate both. We need both for the sake of our society. One day, we're going to wake up and find that it's gone. And, while I don't wish to go back to the Dark Ages or any other oppressive time, I can agree that some things from the past are worth preserving.
The fine art of face to face conversation is one of them.
Be Well
Monday, January 9, 2012
Resolution, Revelation...Revolution
So...I'm finally back to work now. I can't tell if I feel good or if I feel
bad. Actually? I believe I just
feel. That's it. I just
"feel".
Nothing special one way or the other. I guess I'm glad to be back just to be sure
they haven't given my job over to somebody else. Yeah... I just needed to be sure it was still
there (and to just "feel"). Ear's better though. One more appointment and I will be all shored
up.
And now... on to the subject of today's entry: You know how each year we resolve
ourselves to do something? You know, we resolve ourselves to
lose weight or save more money or make our beds everyday- even. There is always something.
The new year looms and we make up a half-assed resolution to make ourselves feel better. Don't get me wrong. It's not that I don't believe in resolutions,
it's just that I believe deep down that we don't actually believe we'll achieve them when we
make them.
In some strange, warped way, a resolution it not really a goal in our minds (eventhough technically in it's truest form it is). We have made them (proclaimed may be more appropriate) then broken them so often that the actual "tradition" of the resolution is to make it, then break it. No one ever really carries through with a resolution. I've come to believe it's psychological.
We are conditioned.
It's the word "resolution" itself that's the culprit.
We subconsciously associate "resolution" with quitting or not following through. We are conditioned (bless our little hearts).
You would be scot
free. Invariably getting by unscathed. And quite fortunate to not
have the judgmental - you failed gaze of friends and family.
They would all understand. After
all, it was merely a resolution. You get
no condemnation for breaking a resolution- you're expected to.
So why do we make them? Tradition.
That would be the proverbial long and short of it. We make New Year's Resolutions because it's just what ya do at the beginning of a new year. We make resolutions because everybody else
does. And we break them because
everybody else does. Both are equally
expected.
True goals are left for planning in the latter part of
the year (or worse yet when we're pressed for time and/or need to make others
think we've changed). Which brings me to
the "Revelation" portion of today's entry: I have discovered that if we make our
resolutions quietly, within the confines of our own heart that we would fare much better at seeing them through to fruition.
Our secret (unattainable) resolutions would be safely tucked away in our psyches. We would be free to make, break and start anew
as freely as we pleased. Liberating huh? This is the revelation of the resolution - keep it to yourself. It's easier that way.
Which brings me to the revolution of this entry: In order to really be successful when it comes to resolutions - one must take the bull, that is your life, by horns (with a firm grip) and not let go. You have to scream at the top of your lungs, say you're mad as hell and that you're not gonna take it anymore- then start your own private revolution to create change in your life.
The drama of your own private revolution will stir something deep within. And maybe, just maybe your resolution will be transformed into a goal with a real focus. Thus rendering it attainable. The year is still young. You have time. Get ta steppin'!
Be Well
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Random Thoughts 2012
Life really is what you make of it.
If you treat people shitty, the shittiness will most definitely come back on you.
Your cat really does love you. It just shows it differently than dogs.
The "Man vs. Food" Guy eats way too much. When did eating extremely oversized portions become something to be proud of?
Believe in something. Because, in this life, you'll need something to look up to and directly at.
Giving up is an option as well. And although you'll be doing it your way- it won't get you to your goal.
People who think too much of themselves are probably overthinking the subject.
The mute button should work on humans.
Strive to be kind to others.
Laughter really is the best medicine.
Everything will be alright in the end. If it's not alright, it's not the end.
Be Well
If you treat people shitty, the shittiness will most definitely come back on you.
Your cat really does love you. It just shows it differently than dogs.
The "Man vs. Food" Guy eats way too much. When did eating extremely oversized portions become something to be proud of?
Believe in something. Because, in this life, you'll need something to look up to and directly at.
Giving up is an option as well. And although you'll be doing it your way- it won't get you to your goal.
People who think too much of themselves are probably overthinking the subject.
The mute button should work on humans.
Strive to be kind to others.
Laughter really is the best medicine.
Everything will be alright in the end. If it's not alright, it's not the end.
Be Well
Thursday, January 5, 2012
The elephants...
You know? The elephants really are showing their true colors - yet again. It's sad to see, pretty tiring and highly effective. I thought it was patently clear that the America we live in TODAY is not just black and white. There are many shades of gray in between.
The simpler times of the 40's, 50's and 60's have all but gone the way of the buffalo. We live and breathe in the Matrix these days. The elephants are making like ostriches, sticking their heads in the sand- when convenient.
It seems the elephants are always using people of color as scapegoats when they want to get elected to office- praying on the fears of the elderly and "fringely" (for lack of a better term) and leaning on age old stereotypes.
And what's more amazing is the fact that:
1. They thinks it's okay to be two-faced and crooked
2. They think the people in the room are the only ones listening
***************NEWS FLASH***********
There is always someone listening that the elephants either dismiss or think is not paying attention.
***********END OF NEWS FLASH*********
Watching the elephants back peddle and side step is comical. The sad part is there's a segment of our society that actually believes all that double-speak (That's PC for bullshit).
**********NEWS FLASH #2**********
What's done in the dark will always come to light and in most cases, when least expected (Thankfully we have the light).
**********END OF NEWS FLASH #2*********
Look at what happened to Herman Cain. Look at what happened to Jerry Rice and former President Clinton. Look what happened to the guy who played Kramer on the Jerry Seinfeld Show. Micheal something or another (Yeah...that guy).
Okay, so the Kramer guy WAS a bit more out there and his antics and racist slurs were recorded by more than just one person but, let's face it... in this technological day and age you can't just say whatever your crooked little evil heart desires and get away with it. It doesn't work like that anymore. Because there are more good hearted people interested in things being fair and equitable.
I never cease to be amazed by the elephants. They should not be allowed to come to power until they have sufficiently come to grips with the following:
1. Gay Marriage
2. A woman's right to choose (otherwise known as abortion)
3. Interracial Marriage
4. Equal pay for equal work
5. Fair housing practices
6. Healthcare for all
7. Fair taxes for all
This is not an exhaustive list. It's merely a start.
If the elephants were in Kindergarten, the note sent home from their teacher would read:
Runs with scissors
Talks too much in class
Refuses to take naps at the appropriate time
Throws tantrums and says things like "You're not the boss of me"
DOES NOT PLAY WELL WITH OTHERS
Honestly? They really should look into getting a different mascot. But what animal could they pick? I'm leaning towards the snake but even the lowly snake has a modicom of redemptive value.
Be Well
The simpler times of the 40's, 50's and 60's have all but gone the way of the buffalo. We live and breathe in the Matrix these days. The elephants are making like ostriches, sticking their heads in the sand- when convenient.
It seems the elephants are always using people of color as scapegoats when they want to get elected to office- praying on the fears of the elderly and "fringely" (for lack of a better term) and leaning on age old stereotypes.
And what's more amazing is the fact that:
1. They thinks it's okay to be two-faced and crooked
2. They think the people in the room are the only ones listening
***************NEWS FLASH***********
There is always someone listening that the elephants either dismiss or think is not paying attention.
***********END OF NEWS FLASH*********
Watching the elephants back peddle and side step is comical. The sad part is there's a segment of our society that actually believes all that double-speak (That's PC for bullshit).
**********NEWS FLASH #2**********
What's done in the dark will always come to light and in most cases, when least expected (Thankfully we have the light).
**********END OF NEWS FLASH #2*********
Look at what happened to Herman Cain. Look at what happened to Jerry Rice and former President Clinton. Look what happened to the guy who played Kramer on the Jerry Seinfeld Show. Micheal something or another (Yeah...that guy).
Okay, so the Kramer guy WAS a bit more out there and his antics and racist slurs were recorded by more than just one person but, let's face it... in this technological day and age you can't just say whatever your crooked little evil heart desires and get away with it. It doesn't work like that anymore. Because there are more good hearted people interested in things being fair and equitable.
I never cease to be amazed by the elephants. They should not be allowed to come to power until they have sufficiently come to grips with the following:
1. Gay Marriage
2. A woman's right to choose (otherwise known as abortion)
3. Interracial Marriage
4. Equal pay for equal work
5. Fair housing practices
6. Healthcare for all
7. Fair taxes for all
This is not an exhaustive list. It's merely a start.
If the elephants were in Kindergarten, the note sent home from their teacher would read:
Runs with scissors
Talks too much in class
Refuses to take naps at the appropriate time
Throws tantrums and says things like "You're not the boss of me"
DOES NOT PLAY WELL WITH OTHERS
Honestly? They really should look into getting a different mascot. But what animal could they pick? I'm leaning towards the snake but even the lowly snake has a modicom of redemptive value.
Be Well
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
The Storyteller...
If you've been paying attention, you know that I have been out sick this week. I've been keeping myself occupied between doctor's appointments with movies. Movies that I have in my collection that I haven't yet watched.
I love the muppets and some years ago I bought "The Storyteller" collection by Jim Henson. The first DVD is on Greek Mythology and the second is based upon tales from Russia, Germany and England. The technology, though cutting edge at the time of the films creation, seems a bit crude and out dated by today's standards but it was entertaining just the same.
When I started the first DVD, I was pleasantly surprised to find a very young Michael Gambon as host. If you know your actors and you're a Harry Potter fan, you know he played Albus Dumbledore after Richard Harris passed away. It's funny how things go huh?
His voice sounded the same and as he hosted the Storyteller I imagined him speaking to Harry. It was neat. Now I know I can come off as being cranky at times and a bit cynical but I do believe in the magic of things. And I do believe in the good in people and the triumph of the human spirit- in general.
It just seems lately that I'm surrounded by people who just do not believe in the magic of things. That's taxing on a soul such as myself. It's hard trying to lift 102 spirits (while keeping your own above water).
Okay, so that is my explanation for going off on a Harry Potter/Dumbledore tangent. I did it because I can. And because I believe in the magic of things. Now... back to "The Storyteller".
Did I mention that I think Jim Henson was a genius? The Muppet Show was a favorite of mine. I never missed an episode. And now when I watch it, I get the adult humor more (which makes is even more fun to watch). If you're a Jim Henson fan I would suggest you pick up "The Storyteller" for your collection.
It's not the Dark Crystal (which was way before it's time) but well worth adding to your collection. The best place by the fire is reserved for the Storyteller...
Be Well
I love the muppets and some years ago I bought "The Storyteller" collection by Jim Henson. The first DVD is on Greek Mythology and the second is based upon tales from Russia, Germany and England. The technology, though cutting edge at the time of the films creation, seems a bit crude and out dated by today's standards but it was entertaining just the same.
When I started the first DVD, I was pleasantly surprised to find a very young Michael Gambon as host. If you know your actors and you're a Harry Potter fan, you know he played Albus Dumbledore after Richard Harris passed away. It's funny how things go huh?
His voice sounded the same and as he hosted the Storyteller I imagined him speaking to Harry. It was neat. Now I know I can come off as being cranky at times and a bit cynical but I do believe in the magic of things. And I do believe in the good in people and the triumph of the human spirit- in general.
It just seems lately that I'm surrounded by people who just do not believe in the magic of things. That's taxing on a soul such as myself. It's hard trying to lift 102 spirits (while keeping your own above water).
Okay, so that is my explanation for going off on a Harry Potter/Dumbledore tangent. I did it because I can. And because I believe in the magic of things. Now... back to "The Storyteller".
Did I mention that I think Jim Henson was a genius? The Muppet Show was a favorite of mine. I never missed an episode. And now when I watch it, I get the adult humor more (which makes is even more fun to watch). If you're a Jim Henson fan I would suggest you pick up "The Storyteller" for your collection.
It's not the Dark Crystal (which was way before it's time) but well worth adding to your collection. The best place by the fire is reserved for the Storyteller...
Be Well
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Starting off slow...
So today I was supposed to return to work all bright eyed and bushy tailed. Unfortunately, it was not to be. An ear infection coupled with TMJ has thrown me for a loop. The doctor didn't seem too concerned when he handed down the diagnosis so I won't worry either.
It's a bit more painful than I expected and I can hardly chew my food (which is a real bummer). Talking isn't much fun either as I am having to give up certain expressions altogether for the time being (which is a real bummer). Luckily, I still have my thoughts (which go unhindered) and the ability to type.
It's not a bad deal but, I do have to say that I have effectively ruled out
Spa World and it's Bade Pools. The prospect of any kind of liquid (yuck) getting into my ear canal other than the water from my own bathroom grosses me out. Not to mention the fact of having to administer 4 drops, every 4 hours, 4 times a day. So here I sit, hungry, wondering what in the hell I'm going to eat, head tilted to the side as I type.
This kinda sucks. And the very last thing I feel like doing is dealing with people who just don't get it (otherwise known as dumb asses that make dumb requests and ask dumb questions). I know this is going on at work because I have checked my email. You know? No matter how many times you tell a person - "Hey, I am NOT the POC for that particular thing that you're asking me about." They still keep coming back with the same question- as if they're stuck in a groove and your name is the only one they know.
This is doubly irritating when you're not feeling well. It just makes me want to go off in about 10 different directions. But then you can't say that kind of thing without burning a bridge, hurting someone's feelings or making yourself look like a complete jerk. This is why I blog. I can tell you anything.
Thanks for listening...Be Well
It's a bit more painful than I expected and I can hardly chew my food (which is a real bummer). Talking isn't much fun either as I am having to give up certain expressions altogether for the time being (which is a real bummer). Luckily, I still have my thoughts (which go unhindered) and the ability to type.
It's not a bad deal but, I do have to say that I have effectively ruled out
Spa World and it's Bade Pools. The prospect of any kind of liquid (yuck) getting into my ear canal other than the water from my own bathroom grosses me out. Not to mention the fact of having to administer 4 drops, every 4 hours, 4 times a day. So here I sit, hungry, wondering what in the hell I'm going to eat, head tilted to the side as I type.
This kinda sucks. And the very last thing I feel like doing is dealing with people who just don't get it (otherwise known as dumb asses that make dumb requests and ask dumb questions). I know this is going on at work because I have checked my email. You know? No matter how many times you tell a person - "Hey, I am NOT the POC for that particular thing that you're asking me about." They still keep coming back with the same question- as if they're stuck in a groove and your name is the only one they know.
This is doubly irritating when you're not feeling well. It just makes me want to go off in about 10 different directions. But then you can't say that kind of thing without burning a bridge, hurting someone's feelings or making yourself look like a complete jerk. This is why I blog. I can tell you anything.
Thanks for listening...Be Well
Monday, January 2, 2012
It's January 2012...Do you know where your life is headed?
So, it's January 2012. This is the Age of Aquarius and the year of the end of the Mayan Calendar. I think people may be losing their minds this year too. But doesn't history repeat itself? Haven't we been down this road before? It seems folks are always looking, searching for something. Some thing to explain what happened to them in their lives. We're always looking outside ourselves for the answer- any answer other than the one we know to be true.
Why do we do that to ourselves? Maybe that is the question we need to be asking. Why does it always have to be something or somebody elses fault for why you're so fucked up? Can you (for once) look at yourself in a mirror and say "I have some responsibility in all this shit"?
I know it's hard but, things might start getting easier after that. You may not even believe it initially but remember Grasshopper, practice makes perfect. But then again, if you take responsibility or blame of any kind, that would technically make you less of a victim. Then who would you be?
God, you've been telling your story to yourself and others for so long that you actually believe that shit. Newsflash...the people you're telling your story to have heard it so many times that they can predict the precise moment you're about to launch into telling it - yet again. That's code for - they're damn sick and tired of hearing it. You have a label. A neon sign if you will. They see you coming when you're a mile away. You and your story.
Any plans on switching out your tape soon? If the Mayan Calendar can end this year, maybe, just maybe, a change in your story might be in order.
It's January 2012... Do you know where your life is headed?
Be Well
Why do we do that to ourselves? Maybe that is the question we need to be asking. Why does it always have to be something or somebody elses fault for why you're so fucked up? Can you (for once) look at yourself in a mirror and say "I have some responsibility in all this shit"?
I know it's hard but, things might start getting easier after that. You may not even believe it initially but remember Grasshopper, practice makes perfect. But then again, if you take responsibility or blame of any kind, that would technically make you less of a victim. Then who would you be?
God, you've been telling your story to yourself and others for so long that you actually believe that shit. Newsflash...the people you're telling your story to have heard it so many times that they can predict the precise moment you're about to launch into telling it - yet again. That's code for - they're damn sick and tired of hearing it. You have a label. A neon sign if you will. They see you coming when you're a mile away. You and your story.
Any plans on switching out your tape soon? If the Mayan Calendar can end this year, maybe, just maybe, a change in your story might be in order.
It's January 2012... Do you know where your life is headed?
Be Well
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