This past Sunday I returned to the city which I abandoned nearly 3 weeks ago for my current residence deep in the woods of north Louisiana. My primary reason for going back was to tend to some unfinished business, but I also ended up hanging out with a particular person  under circumstances that I never considered would be my reality. See, this is someone who I only really began to associate  with in May, at the local Malcolm X celebration.  We'd known of each other previously and had encountered each other from time to time but were mostly on a greeting terms. During our meeting Sunday, I made the comment to him, "Who would have thought we would have been here together like this," (paraphrased)  to which he replied, "I did, 'cause I had been envisioning it for a long time  in order to make it happen."

Many of us know about the power of the mind and visualization.  We've read/heard about the notions that thoughts become things and that we have the power to speak things into existence--good and bad.  But this situation makes me wonder about the power we have over others with our personal thoughts and visualizations.  He pictured me being there in his presence under those circumstances, and there I was, unintentionally--but with no objections to it either--a part of his vision.  When doing my own visualizations that involve others, I honestly rarely think about their willingness to be a participant.  My primary focus is on what I desire, and my energy is focused on making whatever/whoever it is become a part of my reality on the level I want. However, being a subject of someone else's vision--and maybe I was before without knowing--I'm intrigued by this notion that I might have been and might be in the future a part of some reality because someone employed the masterful power of visualization and positive thought to bring me there. 

I feel so vulnerable!

(Only joking.)

peace.

Saturday night, Jun 6: I found myself in the presence of a guy--seemingly intoxicated but perhaps naturally inebriated--like--who was "tryna holla" as we say. ("We" being me, my homegirl, and my cousin, who were also with me.) So, he's talking. I'm standing there attempting to maintain my personal space--which he was unashamedly claiming as his own--and keep the light red substance in his plastic cup off my person as he swayed too and fro. (The substance filled cup being a further sign of his likely intoxication.)  The monologue progressed, and I waded through words to form sentences to ultimately gather the essence.  Noticing his particular dialect, I asked where he was from.  "New Orleans," was the reply. I had suspected that much seeing as how the way of speech that I find to be commonplace in many New Orleans brothas is easily recognizable . Next question, "Whatchu doin' up here?" (In Grambling, where I was visiting my people.)  Him: "In school. Gone be a doctor one day."

Saturday, June 13: I'm recapping the previous Saturday's event with my cousin--who thought the sight of me and said inebriated male quite funny. Once she and I had finished our assessment of all that had gone down the week before, it hit me. I had been in the presence of a future trailblazer in the medical field. The traditionally trained and  educated medical doctor who would somehow manage to remove the negative mainstream stigma from the practice of natural healing once and  for all while simultaneously making normal the concept that a faulty and unnatural diet is a primary cause of the plethora of diseases that plague people and makes necessary the endless flow of drugs and medical procedures that leave us physically, mentally, and financially out of balance.

Or, simply another medical doctor in the field doing what medical doctors traditionally do. But the point, as it suddenly came to me, wasn't about whether he'd go on to actualize my personal fantasies about health and healing or whether he'd continue on the traditional path (which I'm by no means downplaying here). More relevant than that was the notion that this person, in all his drunken, gansta-fied glory--regardless of what box society may have built for him based on his way of dress, speech, and current exploitation of worldly gratifications (all which I have no problem accepting as who he is), and regardless of what my initial thoughts might have been when he first came up to me--has aspirations to and will be a doctor. And I'll take his word for that. 
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Along the same lines, despite what I wrote in my last post about not tuning in to that Paris Hilton show even though someone who I ran around with in my younger years participated in it,  there I was the other day at my homegirl's place while she was tuned in to a replay of it. Well, it wasn't too, too bad. T's role in it, I mean. The show and concept are pretty ridiculous. Such is the nature of reality TV  I suppose. (But see, I'll take The Real World seasons 1-11 any day.)   However, I didn't have to cover my face out of embarrassment for her one time. For her being on such a show in general, maybe. But for something she did or that happened to her, not really. What I can say, though, is Niecy is still Niecy. "Ghetto" talk and all, as one of her fellow bff wannabes would call it. I'll save my dissertation on the use of "ghetto" as a descriptor for an individual's status for another time and just say that that "ghetto" speech as she  calls it is inherent to most who emerge from around my way and need not be taken as an indicator of class, economic status, potential, mental capacity, or level of education, knowledge and understanding. We just can be a lil country with the verbalizations at times, that's all. ;-) Now, I can/will turn mine off and on depending on the circumstances (lol), but hey, it is what it is.


And 2 episodes was enough for me. For real.

peace!

I knew something was up the other night when I answered the ringing phone and heard my homegirl calling me by my first, middle, and last names--as opposed to just "Tie"-- with an intentional emphasis on each.  She instructed me to turn to MTV to see some Paris Hilton show.  She had no idea whether or not I was in an MTV-accessible location, but it just so happened that I was.  So, I turned the TV to the appropriate channel and lo and behold--there was my old childhood buddy and hometown friend giving it her all on a transported stripper pole vying for the position as Paris Hilton’s new best friend (forever).  My mouth fell open.

Yes, I knew that said childhood friend was out in the world pursuing a modeling career and had been in a few magazines.  I’d heard she’d been on the Tyra Banks show.  I had even received notification from my mother when she and Paris came in town for a “This is where I’m from” type exploration apparently for this show.  But why oh why did the first image I saw of her on the tube have to be of her workin’ a stripper pole?  Just why? Something about that and where we’re from just ain’t right, lol! And nothing against stripper poles in general. A lil dancing and what not never hurt nobody. (I’m only assuming the latter.) And really, she wasn't as explicit on the pole as I guess she could have been, but I’m just sayin’.

Well, despite my initial taken aback-ness,  I do wish her the best in getting to where she wants to be.  I’m gonna refrain from watching anymore of the show because 1.) …well, just cause! and 2.) I don’t wanna experience the embarrassment that may overcome me while seeing one of our own doing who knows what to appease Paris Hilton.

As I went back to what I was doing before the phone call, various thoughts and ideas permeated my mind concerning the whole matter.  I wondered: to what extent are we responsible for other people’s perception of us--particularly those who constitute our family?  Is it our duty--when on the public stage--to censor ourselves for the sake of not shaming our relatives? 

For the most part, my mindset is that I shouldn’t have to and can’t be responsible for what perception someone might have of me based on some surface information they might have gathered from something I said or did or how I came across in a given situation.  It’s the whole “What you think about me has nothing to do with me” concept.  When it comes to considering my kin folk, though, it’s different.  I’ll only say so much and refrain from using certain language on my blogs cause there’s the possibility of them reading.  (Plus I possess the typical scorpio trait of being secretive and discreet ;-)   That’s just a personal decision of mine and I’m ok with it. But at what point do we just say, “Eff it! I’m grown!”, put it all out there, and leave it up to  them to take it how they like it? 


peace

(oh! and a plug for the other blog: >>> http://flytieonline.blogspot.com <<<)

Yesterday, as I was decluttering, cleaning, packing, I watched a fiilm entitled 10 Items or Less staring Morgan Freeman and Paz Vega.  I'm going through a moment of transition right now, and it's forcing me to rid myself of many of my possessions.  Now, I really don't have a problem with this.  I'm known to have cleaning spells where anything in view is game for disposal. This I get from my mother...and grandmother.  But even still there are certain things that  have a hold on me.
   
Near the end of the film the two characters engage in an exercise where they each have to name 10 items in their lives that they'd keep and 10 that they'd get rid of if it came down to it. How timely this was for me as I sat there debating as to whether or not I really need to continue to hold on to those 3 old Toni Braxton cds that I've had for over 10 years and that I haven't listened to for just as long.  Or the Backstreet album. Or Destiny's Child (I think I mentioned before that I was a major fan back in the day).  Or Total. Or Jesse Powell.  Or Q's Jook Joint. Or Brandy (But man! That Never Say Never Album was the cut! I might have to break that out today.) And there's no way I can part with my old Aaliyah albums.  Or some of my beloved cassette tapes.   Then my books. It got to the point where I had to consider whether or not I really need all these books, several of which I got at various library or university book sales for 50 cents to a dollar with the intention of reading but have yet to crack open.   That was the toughest.  I left several out but still have a large box full that I can only move by pushing it across the floor. I don't know who's gonna carry it outta here. And dangit! I can't narrow it down any further. I needs muh books, mayne!
   
But anyway. The film and my current situation got me thinking about my--and people's in general--attachment to material items, even when those items play no role in our everyday existence.  For me I think it provides a sort of comfort just knowing I'm surrounded by things that either reflect past good times (the cds) or that house a potential for knowledge, enlightenment, and imagination (the books).   I'm sure there's a more technical, psychological explanation, but that's my theory.
   
I don't think I'll manage to narrow it all down to 10 items or less (that would be divinity!), but I'm aiming for 10 boxes or less. Better yet, 5 or less!

peace

Let me preface this by saying that when it comes to the presidency of Barack Obama, I'm pretty much neutral.  I'm not enthusiastic about it; nor am I despondent about it.  You won't catch me in Obama paraphernalia or praising his success as "the first black president."; nor will you hear me dogging the man out and playing into the conspiritorial dialogue regarding him that's pervasive in some circuits. I respect him as an individual and hope that for the sake of himself, his family, and this nation as a whole that all goes well while he's in that position.

With that said...

Recently while listening to internet radio I heard a statement made by someone that went something like:

"Judging from his actions, it's evident that barack Obama has shown more loyalty to his white mother than to his black father."

He was speaking in context of the perception that President Obama fails to show concern (through action) for black people but gives preference to others.  If someone takes issue with Barack Obama's lack of positive activity in the black community, fine.  I don't really know too much about what he has or hasn't done in that aspect, so I can't hypothesize on that issue one way or the other.

To me, though, it's unreasonable to even use his parents--and the difference in their "racial" background--and whatever relationship he might have had with them to make a point about his loyalty or disloyalty to a particular group.  Those are his parents, and the fact that they were of 2 different backgrounds and the circumstances which perpetuated the way he was raised (being primarily reared by one side of the family as opposed to the other or both) was out of his control. Can those of us who are not the offspring of 2 "racially" or culturally contrasting parents really speak on the allegiance to one parent or another (or whether there is any or not or whether it's right or wrong) that those who are might or might not exhibit? Maybe we can, and I just didn't realize it. Somebody break it down for me. 

I guess it's only natural that black people (generally speaking) would like to think that Barack Obama--because he is looked at as being the first African-American president of this country (and I realize that has been debated)--would be more loyal to us a group, especially considering the history of America.  My opinion on that is irrelevant at this point. But I just don't see how or why someone would talk about what he is or isn't doing as president in context of the relationship he may or may not have has with his mother and father.

I'm all for arguing a point and challenging the actions taken by someone in a power position.  However, it seems only right that the subjects being used in making the argument be reasonable or fair in relation to what's being argued.

peace.

(dang! why is the little emoticon for the mood of "understimulated" smiling? In the context that I'm thinking of it, it's no smiling matter, lol!)

I decided today that I'm gonna give saying "no" a break for a minute and say "yes" more. It hit me while I was in the grocery store earlier.  I go through this from time to time and will probably be back to saying "no" on a regular basis next week, ha!

But for now it's, "Yes!"  (well not to everything ;-)

And speaking of "yes," one of  my current guilty pleasure jaaaaaaams:

Keri Hilson "Turnin' Me On"

Yes, Lil Wayne and all.

___________________________________________________________
**I just came back from a solo drive to Atlanta and other places and had the most interesting and hilarious time.  I picked up some icky germ somewhere along the way, though (runny nose, fatigue, etc.), and that ain't cool. But still, "Yes!"

**I really came here to talk about something else, but got sidetracked, so this is random.

"I turn ya on like a handle..."

peace!!!

The other day a local woman was arrested for repeatedly running over her 11 year old son with her SUV til he died. (read story here).  There isn't much information on her motivation. All that's factual to me is that she did it and the child is dead. Such a sad situation.

The thing that gets me in stories like this or any other story where someone unexpectedly shot someone, beat someone, cut someone, burned down a building, raped someone,  molested a child, or any other number of tragic events that occur all too frequently is the response of those who know/knew the person who committed the act.  Is it just the case where I live or is it a universal thing that the accused in these sorts of situations are always lauded as good people before the crime? I find it almost always to be the case that the ones being interviewed on the news or in the newspaper have nothing but positive things to say about the one being charged....how they were well-known and liked in the community; how they came from a good family;  how they always attended PTA meetings and other school activities; how they were in church every week; how they always were upbeat and happy; how they never seemed violent or distempered; how it's so unbelievable that they'd commit such an act. And so on and so forth.
This always baffles my mind. It's not to say that these people couldn't have been all these things. Considering that I don't know any more about them than what I hear or read, I have no authority to say they were not and can only take the word of those who knew them. And I'm not likely to say that those who knew/know them are lying.  In fact, I'm more inclined to believe them, especially since I know people don't always outwardly portray there inner selves, feeling, or thoughts.   

It's just always been very curious to me.  

What breakdown occurs to make someone who was apparently such an asset to society snap and commit an act that takes the life of someone else (or violate someone else) and lands them in an unfavorable legal position that'll dictate their lived from here on out (in most cases)? Now if, for instance, in the case of the woman mentioned above,  someone got on the news and said, "Well, I saw it coming. She was always abusing the child,"  then it'd be more balanced..like this:

She always abused the child.

And

One day she really  snapped and killed him.

But:

She was such a good mother and did everything right.  

And

One day she snapped and killed him

Doesn't balance out for me where the dialogue about these sorts of matter is concerned.

And I'm not saying anything about whether or not she was justified in her actions, since I'm not in the position to do so (though it does break my heart).  I just wonder about the inconsistency between the way some of the people are described and the actions they take that negate those descriptions.

peace

(And I'm not talking about coins.)


At some point during my childhood--I think age 10 or 11--I had an accident.  My cousin and I were riding our bikes down a steep hill, as we frequently did, trying to see who could go the fastest.  Something must have been wrong with one of my tires, or it just wasn't a good day for going so fast,cause before I knew it, me and my bike were over in the ditch.  A deep ditch.  I was in pain, but it wasn't so bad. Until I saw the blood coming form my mouth.  I panicked, jumped up, and ran all the way home crying and thinking surely I was bleeding to death. My cousin followed behind me on her bike.  Soon enough I was calmed down by my mother and the bleeding was brought under control.  Turned out that in the crash I'd bitten down on the inside of my mouth causing a small cut. Apparently it was a pretty hard bite, because when I was observing my inner lip in the mirror I noticed that one of my front teeth was now slightly chipped in the bottom corner.  I just shrugged it off, figuring it was a natural part of my youthfulness.  I'd go on to have many more cuts and bruises and marks resulting from falls and bike crashes and ant bites and the like.  My cousin did the same (She ended up having a bike accident during which a small rock managed to embed itself in her forehead. The scar stands to this day)

Life went on.

Fast forward to October 2008. I'm at the dentist (a new dentist for me)  for a checkup.  The lady tells me everything she needs to tell me then proceeds to tell me that my tooth should be "fixed."  Her position was that, as a designer (she'd inquired about my "occupation" to assist her in her sales pitch, I suppose) I'd be meeting and talking to new people all the time, so it was important that I have a "perfect smile."  I'm guessing a chipped front tooth does not exemplify perfection.  She wasn't asking me how I felt about it. She was telling me how I should feel about it.

Never in the 15-16 years since that accident has the tooth posed a problem for me.  In all my years of going to dentists and meeting people and talking to people has it been an issue.  Further, I'm quite content with it the way it is and sport it proudly as a nostalgic memory. 

As a person who understands business and what the bottom line is ($$$), I know that it's in the dentist's best interest to squeeze as much money out of me as possible.  "Perfecting" my smile would have meant more money in her pocket.  Knowing this and knowing that I have no worries about the tooth, I didn't take what she was saying personally. 

But what about the cases where references to one's "imperfections"  are taken personally?  Seems that sometimes people are fine and secure with themselves until someone else--it only takes one single person--comes along and implies that they aren't good enough as they are.  They're told that their smile or nose or way of speaking or place of origin or whatever isn't sufficient. So they have a cosmetic dental procedure or they cut/color/curl/straighten/add weave to their hair or they have nose surgery or they try to abandon their accent in order to speak "better" or they pretend to be from some place they're not.  All because they've suddenly been told--after so many years of being perfectly fine with themselves--that they should change.  (and I put "please" in the title, but many times it might be a demand.)

To me this is pretty tragic and detrimental to the individualism that apparently--based on the prevailing differences among people of the world--is meant to be.

I mean, isn't individuality a good thing??

peace

Yesterday I decided that I wasn't gonna do anything tangibly productive. No sewing. No cooking. No cleaning. No nothing.  (Although I did end up sauteing some kale.)

Anyway, I went to the library and checked out 7 dvds, got back home, and commenced to lying bundled up on the couch while viewing them on my computer. (Yeah, it's going on 2009 and I've never owned an actual, "connect it to your t.v." dvd player.)

The films I checked out include George Washington, Sicko, Daughters of the Dust, and The Handmaid's Tale. The one that's relevant to this post is Maxed Out.  I'd seen it before but got it again just cause. This time around somtheing that caught my attetention near the beginning was a comment by the guy who hosted Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. He said a lot of stuff, but the part that stuck with me was a statement he made in regards to people's fascination with the way rich, famous folks live. 

And I quote: 

"Nobody would watch lifestyles of the poor and unknown."

That made me think. Actually, I for one probably would watch a show of that nature, because there's something about the way materially "poor" people live that fascinates me.  The way they're able to survive and the methods employed in order to ensure that survival is pretty intriguing. To me anyway.

Seeing as how I'm one who wouldn't be classified as rich or even upper or middle class and know what it is to have to "make do" with what you have, I've got a pretty strong appreciation for others who have the knowledge and ability to do the same.  Futher, as a product of the very rural south seeing people living that way is/was the norm.  It isn't to say that rural living implies "poorness";  there were certainly those in my community who did have; but there were definitely more who didn't. They still got by, though. Usually with much merriment and joy.

And even while this form of living isn't really anything new to my experience, I'd still watch a show on it. (Hopefully it wouldn't be biased and skewed. We are talkimg and t.v. and media afterall.)  Even if I were to ever achieve the status of "rich and famous," I'd like too keep some of those jewels from the "poor and unknown" in my arsenal of knowledge. Seems only right to me.

peace