Women's Convention in Akron, Ohio, 1851
"Well, Ain't I a Woman?"
"Well, children, where there is so much racket there must be something out of kilter. I think that 'twixt the negroes of the South and the women at the North, all talking about rights, the white men will be in a fix pretty soon. But what's all this here talking about?
That man over there says that women need to be helped into carriages, and lifted over ditches, and to have the best place everywhere. Nobody ever helps me into carriages, or over mud-puddles, or gives me any best place! And ain't I a woman? Look at me! Look at my arm! I have ploughed and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me! And ain't I a woman? I could work as much and eat as much as a man - when I could get it - and bear the lash as well! And ain't I a woman? I have borne thirteen children, and seen most all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my mother's grief, none but Jesus heard me! And ain't I a woman?
Then they talk about this thing in the head; what's this they call it? [member of audience whispers, "intellect"] That's it, honey. What's that got to do with women's rights or negroes' rights? If my cup won't hold but a pint, and yours holds a quart, wouldn't you be mean not to let me have my little half measure full?
Then that little man in black there, he says women can't have as much rights as men, 'cause Christ wasn't a woman! Where did your Christ come from? Where did your Christ come from? From God and a woman! Man had nothing to do with Him.
If the first woman God ever made was strong enough to turn the world upside down all alone, these women together ought to be able to turn it back , and get it right side up again! And now they is asking to do it, the men better let them.
Obliged to you for hearing me, and now old Sojourner ain't got nothing more to say."
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Friday, June 29, 2007
dream-decoders, i need you!
The weirdest, but clearest dream I've had in a long time...
I was meeting my mom at somebody's mall the day before my wedding to my boyfriend. I had some greasy fries, but I only remember eating one. Then...
J and I went to this girl named Leah's house. [I went to high school with her, but we weren't really close like that. I was on her Facebook page yesterday, which may have been why she was in my head.] We sat outside in the car [J was driving] and she came out the house and gave us pink petal to put on our chests [like body glitter]. Then...
I drove out of an entrance instead of out of an exit from some brick building, and rolled over one of those tire damaging strips. Once I noticed the strip [I looked back in my rearview mirror], the tires immediately deflated. [The car went way down with the "psst" sound.] The women who were cops or whatever made me feel incredibly guilty about it [did they laugh at me? Damn them!]. Then...
I was at a church hall/family reunion/funeral something or other with my mom and dad. I never knew what it was about, only that I felt really guilty and sad about something. We were walking towards the back of the hall and my dad told the bodyguard that we were family [or did he say "Boones." I don't remember...]
Weird, huh? Dream-decoders, get at me!
I was meeting my mom at somebody's mall the day before my wedding to my boyfriend. I had some greasy fries, but I only remember eating one. Then...
J and I went to this girl named Leah's house. [I went to high school with her, but we weren't really close like that. I was on her Facebook page yesterday, which may have been why she was in my head.] We sat outside in the car [J was driving] and she came out the house and gave us pink petal to put on our chests [like body glitter]. Then...
I drove out of an entrance instead of out of an exit from some brick building, and rolled over one of those tire damaging strips. Once I noticed the strip [I looked back in my rearview mirror], the tires immediately deflated. [The car went way down with the "psst" sound.] The women who were cops or whatever made me feel incredibly guilty about it [did they laugh at me? Damn them!]. Then...
I was at a church hall/family reunion/funeral something or other with my mom and dad. I never knew what it was about, only that I felt really guilty and sad about something. We were walking towards the back of the hall and my dad told the bodyguard that we were family [or did he say "Boones." I don't remember...]
Weird, huh? Dream-decoders, get at me!
Thursday, June 28, 2007
this is called, "being a very special child."
Sixteen Things to do at 3 a.m. or 12 noon at Super Wal-mart...
1. Get 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in people's carts when they aren't looking.
2. Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at 5-minute intervals.
3. Make a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the rest rooms.
4. Walk up to an employee and tell him/her in an official tone," 'Code 3' in housewares"....and see what happens.
5. Go the Service Desk and ask to put a bag of M&M's on layaway.
6. Move a 'CAUTION - WET FLOOR' sign to a carpeted area.
7. Set up a tent in the camping department and tell other shoppers you'll invite them in if they'll bring pillows from the bedding department.
8. When a clerk asks if they can help you, begin to cry and ask,"Why can't you people just leave me alone?"
9. Look right into the security camera & use it as a mirror, and pick your nose.
10. While handling guns in the hunting department, ask the clerk if he knows where the anti - depressants are.
11. Dart around the store suspiciously, loudly humming the "Mission Impossible" theme.
12. In the auto department, practice your "Madonna look" using different size funnels.
13. Hide in a clothing rack and when people browse through, say "PICK ME!" "PICK ME!"
14. When an announcement comes over the loud speaker, assume the fetal position and scream..."NO! NO! It's those voices again!!!!"
15. Go into a fitting room and shut the door and wait a while, and then yell, very loudly, "There is no toilet paper in here!
16. Get several bouncy balls and throw them down an aisle shouting "Go, Pikachu, go!"
1. Get 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in people's carts when they aren't looking.
2. Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at 5-minute intervals.
3. Make a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the rest rooms.
4. Walk up to an employee and tell him/her in an official tone," 'Code 3' in housewares"....and see what happens.
5. Go the Service Desk and ask to put a bag of M&M's on layaway.
6. Move a 'CAUTION - WET FLOOR' sign to a carpeted area.
7. Set up a tent in the camping department and tell other shoppers you'll invite them in if they'll bring pillows from the bedding department.
8. When a clerk asks if they can help you, begin to cry and ask,"Why can't you people just leave me alone?"
9. Look right into the security camera & use it as a mirror, and pick your nose.
10. While handling guns in the hunting department, ask the clerk if he knows where the anti - depressants are.
11. Dart around the store suspiciously, loudly humming the "Mission Impossible" theme.
12. In the auto department, practice your "Madonna look" using different size funnels.
13. Hide in a clothing rack and when people browse through, say "PICK ME!" "PICK ME!"
14. When an announcement comes over the loud speaker, assume the fetal position and scream..."NO! NO! It's those voices again!!!!"
15. Go into a fitting room and shut the door and wait a while, and then yell, very loudly, "There is no toilet paper in here!
16. Get several bouncy balls and throw them down an aisle shouting "Go, Pikachu, go!"
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
never touch a black woman's radio
This morning, I'm bobbing to Ludacris on V-103 via Internet radio, and suddenly this crazy press conference cuts the song off and tunes in. I'm thinking it's about the 17-year-old young man who was sentenced to jail for having consensual sex with a 15-year-old girl. They are working hard down here in Atlanta to free him because the bill that forced him to be jailed has expired. Or, something like that.
But no. The press conference was to reveal that Wayne Williams, the man suspected in the 1980's Atlanta child murders, is actually guilty. In the 80's, there was speculation as to whether or not this man was wrongly accused because of his color, and because he had committed a murder at the time when the child murders were rampant.
But he's the right one. Ok. Yes, breakthrough stuff. Utterly amazing, and great work, people. I appreciate that it was all cleared up and gives closure to the families of the slain children.
But they went on. And they went on....and on...fussing with each other as to the locations of certain evidence from the 80's...asking kooky, dumb, and repetitive questions...cutting each other off, pointing, accusing, just wrecking havoc. At a press conference. 16 hours long. In the middle of the workday.
I'm like, where did my music go? Music?
Music?
Music?
Moral of the story: If you want a person to listen, don't interrupt the music! You've been to the prom before...you could cause a riot! And I was already mad that Pandora isn't on today...don't make me come up there!
For a terrific fictional novel on the Atlanta child murders, read one of my favorites, "Leaving Atlanta" by Tayari Jones, writer extraordinaire!!
Oh, yea. And SAVE INTERNET RADIO!
But no. The press conference was to reveal that Wayne Williams, the man suspected in the 1980's Atlanta child murders, is actually guilty. In the 80's, there was speculation as to whether or not this man was wrongly accused because of his color, and because he had committed a murder at the time when the child murders were rampant.
But he's the right one. Ok. Yes, breakthrough stuff. Utterly amazing, and great work, people. I appreciate that it was all cleared up and gives closure to the families of the slain children.
But they went on. And they went on....and on...fussing with each other as to the locations of certain evidence from the 80's...asking kooky, dumb, and repetitive questions...cutting each other off, pointing, accusing, just wrecking havoc. At a press conference. 16 hours long. In the middle of the workday.
I'm like, where did my music go? Music?
Music?
Music?
Moral of the story: If you want a person to listen, don't interrupt the music! You've been to the prom before...you could cause a riot! And I was already mad that Pandora isn't on today...don't make me come up there!
For a terrific fictional novel on the Atlanta child murders, read one of my favorites, "Leaving Atlanta" by Tayari Jones, writer extraordinaire!!
Oh, yea. And SAVE INTERNET RADIO!
Monday, June 25, 2007
ultimate laziness is the number one cause of chronic obesity
Things that make me squint my eyes and ball my eyebrows together...otherwise known as ultimate laziness that I just can't quite figure out, and why America is fat as hell over it!
(1) Universal remote controls: A remote control that makes you sit on your ass and change the channel, turn on the stereo, switch on the surround sound, play the DVD player, turn on the Xbox, tune up the microwave, and make your dog sit and shut up. Why don't you just use the necessary 0.5 watts of energy and pick up your remote for the DVD player to turn it on? Better yet, jog your fat ass and get that Lean Cuisine out the microwave! That's what America's obese now!
(2) I Wanna Ride On the Car: People who put their garbage on the trunk of their car (notice I said "on" and not "in), and ride 0.5 mph to the dumpster. Would it cause so much heartache to simply put the garbage in the trunk? Because, if the garbage slides off the trunk as you make your 80-year-duration turn, it'll take you more energy to jump out, sit it back on the trunk, and drive off again. *Special circumstance: Your trunk is too full, or your trash is funky. Take that shIIt out your trunk (you'll have better gas mileage and tire pressure), or keep your trunk door up! And if your trash stinks like that, you probably shouldn't have eaten that shIIt in the first place. That's why America's obese now, fatty!
(3) Lane Changers and Their Lack of Signal Usage: Um, self explanatory. They're going 50 mph, coming up from behind me, switch to the lane to my left, and fly in front of me...just in time for the light to flip red. Giant braking ensues on both parties. Then they turn right and keep going about their business. Dammit, man! You could have given me the common courtesy of letting me know your ass don't know how to drive! At least give me the signal that you wanted to get in front of me so that I can brake gradually, rather than elevating my blood pressure when I have to slam on brakes to avoid a collision. That's why you're too big to fit in that car. You can't even move your plump finger to flick on the signal. Get out the car and ride a bike, you obsese American!
(4) Swivel Chairs and the Idiots that Ride in Them: Silly asses that have mysteriously glued their booty to the seat of a swivel chair and refuses to walk with their feet, like a normal person. Going from cubby to cubby or desk to desk, 50.0 times a day, scooting their feet like Barney Rubble. The chair is all out in the aisle and stuff. Um, excuse me? You're, like, in the way! Move it! You are not in a segway! You are not in an electrical scooter or any type of wheelchair! You need to move those glutes and calfs and hit that cellulite, with your obese self! Move it!
(5) What Statement Are You Making Here?: Tee shirts to the knees and shorts to the ankles are not cute, young man! So, what are you saying about yourself? I'm hiding my obesity under here! You have on 50 ounces of clothing (because I know guys wear a shirt under their shirts), and you wonder why you're sweating like all hell! Your clothes look straight up lazy, and you look lazy under all of them, with your chunky self! Like the fashion police would say, "You don't get any tickets. Just go to jail." My people, my people. African Americans, lets get it together.
(1) Universal remote controls: A remote control that makes you sit on your ass and change the channel, turn on the stereo, switch on the surround sound, play the DVD player, turn on the Xbox, tune up the microwave, and make your dog sit and shut up. Why don't you just use the necessary 0.5 watts of energy and pick up your remote for the DVD player to turn it on? Better yet, jog your fat ass and get that Lean Cuisine out the microwave! That's what America's obese now!
(2) I Wanna Ride On the Car: People who put their garbage on the trunk of their car (notice I said "on" and not "in), and ride 0.5 mph to the dumpster. Would it cause so much heartache to simply put the garbage in the trunk? Because, if the garbage slides off the trunk as you make your 80-year-duration turn, it'll take you more energy to jump out, sit it back on the trunk, and drive off again. *Special circumstance: Your trunk is too full, or your trash is funky. Take that shIIt out your trunk (you'll have better gas mileage and tire pressure), or keep your trunk door up! And if your trash stinks like that, you probably shouldn't have eaten that shIIt in the first place. That's why America's obese now, fatty!
(3) Lane Changers and Their Lack of Signal Usage: Um, self explanatory. They're going 50 mph, coming up from behind me, switch to the lane to my left, and fly in front of me...just in time for the light to flip red. Giant braking ensues on both parties. Then they turn right and keep going about their business. Dammit, man! You could have given me the common courtesy of letting me know your ass don't know how to drive! At least give me the signal that you wanted to get in front of me so that I can brake gradually, rather than elevating my blood pressure when I have to slam on brakes to avoid a collision. That's why you're too big to fit in that car. You can't even move your plump finger to flick on the signal. Get out the car and ride a bike, you obsese American!
(4) Swivel Chairs and the Idiots that Ride in Them: Silly asses that have mysteriously glued their booty to the seat of a swivel chair and refuses to walk with their feet, like a normal person. Going from cubby to cubby or desk to desk, 50.0 times a day, scooting their feet like Barney Rubble. The chair is all out in the aisle and stuff. Um, excuse me? You're, like, in the way! Move it! You are not in a segway! You are not in an electrical scooter or any type of wheelchair! You need to move those glutes and calfs and hit that cellulite, with your obese self! Move it!
(5) What Statement Are You Making Here?: Tee shirts to the knees and shorts to the ankles are not cute, young man! So, what are you saying about yourself? I'm hiding my obesity under here! You have on 50 ounces of clothing (because I know guys wear a shirt under their shirts), and you wonder why you're sweating like all hell! Your clothes look straight up lazy, and you look lazy under all of them, with your chunky self! Like the fashion police would say, "You don't get any tickets. Just go to jail." My people, my people. African Americans, lets get it together.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
please don't bite me, dog
Is there a such thing as doggie facelifts? Puppy lipos? Canine face reconstructions? 'Cause this poor pup needs something! I came across the MSN story of the newest doggie crowned "Ugliest Dog in the World" a few minutes ago. It's hilarious, but kinda scary. Ever seen "Pet Semetary?" I acutally haven't seen it, but this dog looks like he had a starting role! I feel so bad for this dog.
Why is the dog's tongue hanging out like that? What if it drips? That's just nasty.
It just goes to show you that "ugly" can be a disease. Try telling that to some of these actors out here...
Friday, June 22, 2007
the eddie murphy fiasco headline
Post-workout, endorphin-infused shout:
EDDIE MURPHY IS THE BABY DADDY! Ha! I knew it!
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19373567/?GT1=10056
EDDIE MURPHY IS THE BABY DADDY! Ha! I knew it!
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19373567/?GT1=10056
the funniest "line" I've heard in a while
The funniest "line" I've heard in a while...
I'm in the office, and this "salesperson" comes to the door selling those hand-held fans you can get at Six Flags. I tell him to back off [nicely] and he gives me his number.
Tall young boy with the faux brown eyes who smells like baby formula and outdoors: "So, can I get your number?"
Me: "No, thanks. I have another half."
Tall young boy with the faux brown eyes who smells like baby formula and outdoors [laughingly]: "Oh! Well, when 'other half' leaves, I can be your whole."
Me [thinking]: You must not be very bright, huh?
Hilarious!!
I'm in the office, and this "salesperson" comes to the door selling those hand-held fans you can get at Six Flags. I tell him to back off [nicely] and he gives me his number.
Tall young boy with the faux brown eyes who smells like baby formula and outdoors: "So, can I get your number?"
Me: "No, thanks. I have another half."
Tall young boy with the faux brown eyes who smells like baby formula and outdoors [laughingly]: "Oh! Well, when 'other half' leaves, I can be your whole."
Me [thinking]: You must not be very bright, huh?
Hilarious!!
even that damn singing skittles bunny was held, and touched, and loved...
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19293872/?GT1=10056
The above link is what I call, "The Case of Creating Robotic Children." So I'm from Virginia, right? Born and raised on the coast of VA, in the sorta "rough" city of Portsmouth, esteemed for the I.C. Norcom High School Marching Band, no malls, Frozen Custard ice cream, historic downtown, 80 different churches on one street, Victory Crossing shopping center, and multiple potholes. At least, that's when I was living there.
So I'm searching the 'Net for my next conquest to sound off about when I come across the above link. A middle school in Fairfax County, VA has banned students from any type of touching, whatsoever. No hugging, no holding hands, no arms over the shoulders, and they could get the chair or fatally stoned for kissing. Poor kids. All because it could "cause discomfort and/or violence." There's one courageous young man who has decided to report to the school board about what a ludicrous idea this is. I applaud his efforts. All for a few reasons that are so natural and clear to me that I don't see why any parents, officials, or anyone has thought of them.
(A) Let's define "touching." Hugging involves feelings of admiration and, particularly where I'm from, hugging is a sign of affection, a basic greeting, or hell, we hug after a joke hurts somebody's feelings. [Come here, baby. Me so sorry.] We don't hug somebody, then bust a cap in their ass! I can see if a dude is hugging a girl all tight, hand all on her ass or up her skirt, or something. Holding hands, same way. A baby holds hands with their mother to cross the street. I mean, come on! It's like the school officials are making the case that a girl will hold the hand of a guy she doesn't really like because she'll be uncomfortable telling him, "No, don't hold my hand." They are making these kids out to be big ole' dummies. Which comes to my next point.
(B) These kids aren't STUPID! There is no benefit of the doubt here at all. If a girl has enough self-esteem and a mouth on her face, she will tell a dude off if he so much as tries to put his hands on her in an unwelcoming way. Again, the kids are not boo boo fools. Are the Fairfax county kids so violent that, if the girl did manage to say "no, don't touch me," the dude will automatically slap the shIIt out of her? Not likely.
(C) They're making these children unresponsive, unemotional robots. And we see what happens when people have no love in their lives. They bomb city parks. They strap dynamite to themselves and walk into a restaurant. They shoot somebody over extra chili sauce. They're in mental facilities, rocking back and forth and holding themselves. Or they're really bad bosses. [LOL] These are the people we should fear, not some damn horny adolescents.
And the biggest point: (D) If you tell a child not to do something, 9 out of 10 of them will go off and do it anyway! It's the natural teenage way to date somebody when your parents say "no," all because you love them and "nothing else matters." We see it everyday. Hell, I did it!! I stayed out after curfew just because there was a curfew! Interactions with the opposite sex is what makes "teenage-hood" what it is!! There are probably 18 couples under the bleachers right now at the school, making out heavily, all because they can't touch each other in school. Just think how many girls can be pregnant off these silly ass rules...
I hope these school officials open their pale eyeballs and remember when they were an experimental teenager. I'm sure something will change. Big ole' dummies.
In Portsmouth, Virginia, we touch each other. That was my original point. :-D
The above link is what I call, "The Case of Creating Robotic Children." So I'm from Virginia, right? Born and raised on the coast of VA, in the sorta "rough" city of Portsmouth, esteemed for the I.C. Norcom High School Marching Band, no malls, Frozen Custard ice cream, historic downtown, 80 different churches on one street, Victory Crossing shopping center, and multiple potholes. At least, that's when I was living there.
So I'm searching the 'Net for my next conquest to sound off about when I come across the above link. A middle school in Fairfax County, VA has banned students from any type of touching, whatsoever. No hugging, no holding hands, no arms over the shoulders, and they could get the chair or fatally stoned for kissing. Poor kids. All because it could "cause discomfort and/or violence." There's one courageous young man who has decided to report to the school board about what a ludicrous idea this is. I applaud his efforts. All for a few reasons that are so natural and clear to me that I don't see why any parents, officials, or anyone has thought of them.
(A) Let's define "touching." Hugging involves feelings of admiration and, particularly where I'm from, hugging is a sign of affection, a basic greeting, or hell, we hug after a joke hurts somebody's feelings. [Come here, baby. Me so sorry.] We don't hug somebody, then bust a cap in their ass! I can see if a dude is hugging a girl all tight, hand all on her ass or up her skirt, or something. Holding hands, same way. A baby holds hands with their mother to cross the street. I mean, come on! It's like the school officials are making the case that a girl will hold the hand of a guy she doesn't really like because she'll be uncomfortable telling him, "No, don't hold my hand." They are making these kids out to be big ole' dummies. Which comes to my next point.
(B) These kids aren't STUPID! There is no benefit of the doubt here at all. If a girl has enough self-esteem and a mouth on her face, she will tell a dude off if he so much as tries to put his hands on her in an unwelcoming way. Again, the kids are not boo boo fools. Are the Fairfax county kids so violent that, if the girl did manage to say "no, don't touch me," the dude will automatically slap the shIIt out of her? Not likely.
(C) They're making these children unresponsive, unemotional robots. And we see what happens when people have no love in their lives. They bomb city parks. They strap dynamite to themselves and walk into a restaurant. They shoot somebody over extra chili sauce. They're in mental facilities, rocking back and forth and holding themselves. Or they're really bad bosses. [LOL] These are the people we should fear, not some damn horny adolescents.
And the biggest point: (D) If you tell a child not to do something, 9 out of 10 of them will go off and do it anyway! It's the natural teenage way to date somebody when your parents say "no," all because you love them and "nothing else matters." We see it everyday. Hell, I did it!! I stayed out after curfew just because there was a curfew! Interactions with the opposite sex is what makes "teenage-hood" what it is!! There are probably 18 couples under the bleachers right now at the school, making out heavily, all because they can't touch each other in school. Just think how many girls can be pregnant off these silly ass rules...
I hope these school officials open their pale eyeballs and remember when they were an experimental teenager. I'm sure something will change. Big ole' dummies.
In Portsmouth, Virginia, we touch each other. That was my original point. :-D
Thursday, June 21, 2007
the "yea" and "nay" of my day
The "Yea" and "Nay" of my day...I was given a conditional job offer with Delta Airlines today in the longest interview session of my life. "Yeaaa" for me! It's the change of pace that I desire. I have major, major benefits. I can talk to someone other than myself all day. Everything would be in place...
if I weren't in school.
Now, here's the "nay" part. They don't recommend the position for students going back to school in the fall. Problem: I have one last class to take in order to get my master's certification. Hm. Problem, for sure.
The hours are so crazy sporadic that they're not willing to work with a sista on her school schedule, which is completely understandable. It's a big, booming business, and nobody has time to schedule around one thousand different school times.
It just sucks for me.
So I have a 2 week pre-screening process to wait it out and make sure that everything clears. Afterwards, I have a 2 week, paid training period where, at the end, I "graduate," receive my badge and uniform, and actually get my schedule.
What my schedule says depends on whether or not I can keep the job offer.
Which, again, sucks for me.
I gotta keep this job!! I gotta get outta here!!
if I weren't in school.
Now, here's the "nay" part. They don't recommend the position for students going back to school in the fall. Problem: I have one last class to take in order to get my master's certification. Hm. Problem, for sure.
The hours are so crazy sporadic that they're not willing to work with a sista on her school schedule, which is completely understandable. It's a big, booming business, and nobody has time to schedule around one thousand different school times.
It just sucks for me.
So I have a 2 week pre-screening process to wait it out and make sure that everything clears. Afterwards, I have a 2 week, paid training period where, at the end, I "graduate," receive my badge and uniform, and actually get my schedule.
What my schedule says depends on whether or not I can keep the job offer.
Which, again, sucks for me.
I gotta keep this job!! I gotta get outta here!!
Monday, June 18, 2007
we were blessed by angel
It's hard to lose a friend, especially that I'm only 22 years old. I just lost my third high school friend since graduation. Justin Buxton, or "JB" as everyone affectionately called him at Norcom, died this morning when he lost control of his car and swerved into a tractor trailer truck. He died on impact. He would have been 20 this September.
I pray that he felt no pain, that his angels snatched him up before any amount of anguish could touch him. Justin was a gentleman, very smart, and athletic like you wouldn't believe. From what I remember of Justin, he was lively and had a heart of gold. He was on his way to being a doctor or an NFL player. His family are wonderful people, and Justin had a host of close friends. It's a shame that he was taken so early, but I truly believe that God had a purpose for him and that God nevers leads us astray. Justin will be missed dearly, but I know that he's next to God and His Son, playing football on the largest team our minds could not even imagine.
Rest in peace, sweetie. We love you, and we'll meet again.
Justin Buxton
Sunrise: 09-21-87 Sunset: 06-18-07
I pray that he felt no pain, that his angels snatched him up before any amount of anguish could touch him. Justin was a gentleman, very smart, and athletic like you wouldn't believe. From what I remember of Justin, he was lively and had a heart of gold. He was on his way to being a doctor or an NFL player. His family are wonderful people, and Justin had a host of close friends. It's a shame that he was taken so early, but I truly believe that God had a purpose for him and that God nevers leads us astray. Justin will be missed dearly, but I know that he's next to God and His Son, playing football on the largest team our minds could not even imagine.
Rest in peace, sweetie. We love you, and we'll meet again.
Justin Buxton
Sunrise: 09-21-87 Sunset: 06-18-07
the dead beat
Often, my boyfriend and I listen to WGCI radio out of Chicago via the Internet to wake us up early in the morning. This Monday morn, the DJs were talking about a sting operation that occurred yesterday on beautiful Father's Day. Some hundred "daddies" in Cook County were arrested on failure to pay child support...on Father's Day. [ha ha! Ok, had to laugh...] Some men even owed hundreds of thousands of dollars. Callers were sounding off on whether or not this was a good or bad idea.
I'm sitting on the fence about it. Yes, it is a good thing because the men should take responsibility for the children they made. Even if they cannot get along with the mother. It is not the children's fault that they were created by some lazy, uncaring sperm donor. My boyfriend made a good point, though, that made me feel that it was a bad idea. (A) The men don't care anyway, and jail for most of them will not make any type of difference. Point well taken, even though the demographic of the group was not told [but we can guess...] (B) Why wait until Father's Day? They could have captured these men weeks ago. The law was trying to make a statement that "Father's Day" does not apply to men who are not "fathers." Point also well taken.
To me, the entire business of "dead beat dads" is a true shame, and a true reality, for so many of our black children. I remember years ago when I volunteered at a daycare facility outside of my dad's job, The Children's Hospital of the King's Daughters in Norfolk, Virginia. There was this adorable 3-year-old named Damien who had the cutest grin ever and would walk around showing everyone his bracelet ["Bling," as he called it]. The daycare keepers used to ask him his dad's name, and Damien, 3 years old, would say, "Dead Beat Daddy" with that huge grin. The daycare ladies used to crack up, and I would join in, but inwardly, I would cringe. Damien would say that his mommy told him that his dad's name was "Dead Beat Daddy." I kept thinking, this child has a lot of resentment for the dad that he didn't even know.
In my eyes, the mother should never taint the image of a child's dad intentionally, out of spite for the man, without giving the child a chance to learn about his or her father on their own. But, I don't have a "baby daddy," so I can't comment from the other side. This entire thing just makes a loud statement about the state of the crumbled black family structure, the state of black male and female relationships, and the bleek future for many of our black children.
Can't we all just get along?
I'm sitting on the fence about it. Yes, it is a good thing because the men should take responsibility for the children they made. Even if they cannot get along with the mother. It is not the children's fault that they were created by some lazy, uncaring sperm donor. My boyfriend made a good point, though, that made me feel that it was a bad idea. (A) The men don't care anyway, and jail for most of them will not make any type of difference. Point well taken, even though the demographic of the group was not told [but we can guess...] (B) Why wait until Father's Day? They could have captured these men weeks ago. The law was trying to make a statement that "Father's Day" does not apply to men who are not "fathers." Point also well taken.
To me, the entire business of "dead beat dads" is a true shame, and a true reality, for so many of our black children. I remember years ago when I volunteered at a daycare facility outside of my dad's job, The Children's Hospital of the King's Daughters in Norfolk, Virginia. There was this adorable 3-year-old named Damien who had the cutest grin ever and would walk around showing everyone his bracelet ["Bling," as he called it]. The daycare keepers used to ask him his dad's name, and Damien, 3 years old, would say, "Dead Beat Daddy" with that huge grin. The daycare ladies used to crack up, and I would join in, but inwardly, I would cringe. Damien would say that his mommy told him that his dad's name was "Dead Beat Daddy." I kept thinking, this child has a lot of resentment for the dad that he didn't even know.
In my eyes, the mother should never taint the image of a child's dad intentionally, out of spite for the man, without giving the child a chance to learn about his or her father on their own. But, I don't have a "baby daddy," so I can't comment from the other side. This entire thing just makes a loud statement about the state of the crumbled black family structure, the state of black male and female relationships, and the bleek future for many of our black children.
Can't we all just get along?
Friday, June 15, 2007
it must be those endorphins
"Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy! And happy people just don't shoot their husbands." --Elle Woods, Legally Blonde
I'm pleasantly surprised that I'm still virtually cheerful. The workout was great...fun, even. I feel like I can go again...
tomorrow. Yes, I will go again tomorrow.
Am I turning into a little exercise rodent? Will I end up looking like Billy Blanks?
Yikes. [shaking the visual out]
I'm pleasantly surprised that I'm still virtually cheerful. The workout was great...fun, even. I feel like I can go again...
tomorrow. Yes, I will go again tomorrow.
Am I turning into a little exercise rodent? Will I end up looking like Billy Blanks?
Yikes. [shaking the visual out]
drowning in liters of water
My first workout at Curves is in a couple of hours, and I have to admit my excitement. It may be short-lived, however, when that sweat trinkles down my wide forehead and drops into my eyeball, making me do that seez! sound with my teeth. But I'm not gonna flip out. This is for the betterment of my physical state, and I've been "dieting" since Wednesday. [Definition of dieting: non-hamburger eating; fast food big ban; usually in the form of pasta and millions of liters of water; can include several states of green veggies and meat the size of my palm]. It's been working so far, so we'll hope for the best.
Note how cheerful this posting sounds. Now make a note to tune in later...
Note how cheerful this posting sounds. Now make a note to tune in later...
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
get that damn camera out my face!
I went to Curves. I signed up. I start Friday.
It was confirmed that I'm a hefty girl.
My self-esteem is low. I cannot talk about it right now.
Turn the camera away.
[lol]
It was confirmed that I'm a hefty girl.
My self-esteem is low. I cannot talk about it right now.
Turn the camera away.
[lol]
my dreamgirl transformation starts today
I'm a wee bit nervous today. I have a "meeting" at Curves later. The Curves. As in, 30 minute workout, 3 times a week, lose weight? Yes, I'm a fatty [NOTE: not fatty girl], and I'm going to see about fixing all that. So, what the heck will I talk to this lady about? How far I've let myself go? How I want to look like Jennifer Hudson [not Dreamgirls Jennifer, mind you.] And this lady better not be a size 2 and say "like" after every sentence. I may roadrunner out and never return!
I was a size 7 five years ago, and now I'm a 12. So what does that mean? Should I talk about my belief that my birth control was the real culprit? [Which "they" say is a myth, but I still truly believe it!] Should I break down in tears like those women on Maury who gained 400 pounds because their husband cheated on them with a 16-year-old Brittney Spears lookalike? I don't know.
'Cause I'm happy. Just a little bit blubberish around the middle. And on the arms. Inner thighs. Ok, I'm getting kinda explicitly nasty. Keeping it real, I just want to be healthy for my height. And die a 100-year-old woman in a warm bed, spent from a long life, and satisfied that I didn't have diabetes, a stroke, heart disease, high blood pressure...oh, wait, already got that. Uh, never mind. You get the idea.
This will be interesting. I will blog later today and inform my reading public how the whole thing went.
I was a size 7 five years ago, and now I'm a 12. So what does that mean? Should I talk about my belief that my birth control was the real culprit? [Which "they" say is a myth, but I still truly believe it!] Should I break down in tears like those women on Maury who gained 400 pounds because their husband cheated on them with a 16-year-old Brittney Spears lookalike? I don't know.
'Cause I'm happy. Just a little bit blubberish around the middle. And on the arms. Inner thighs. Ok, I'm getting kinda explicitly nasty. Keeping it real, I just want to be healthy for my height. And die a 100-year-old woman in a warm bed, spent from a long life, and satisfied that I didn't have diabetes, a stroke, heart disease, high blood pressure...oh, wait, already got that. Uh, never mind. You get the idea.
This will be interesting. I will blog later today and inform my reading public how the whole thing went.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
post-GRE short-lived euphoria
Hey guys, guess what? I figured out that I can, indeed, write today. I scored a "5" on my GRE analytical writing portion for admittance to Northwestern, and I'm pleasantly boiling "brag." ["6" is the highest score...how many people do you know write perfectly?] I will not, however, under any circumstances, disclose my verbal and math scores. Moreover, I am not going to school for geometry, elementary algebra, and analogies. I am going to the gorgeous, 20th century-esque Northwestern U to explore the wonderful world of celebrity/hobby/current events journalism. And how to construct periodicals. And how to take my long-winded writing style and cramp it into one, straight-to-the-point formula for reading pleasure.
It will be my own little fantastic "Mea in the City" epic-sode: hair glamourously blowing in the breeze off Lake Michigan as I sit on the beach and write; getting paired with a group of women where we all mesh and produce the greatest ideas for our magazine known to Man; making new friends and going out to poetry readings and to Applebees for drinks; having my man there for me to bounce ideas to at all hours of the night...
Even my fantasy needs to be broken here: My rational side is too rational [and sometimes too ghetto] to think that Northwestern isn't going to be all hard work and rare play. In October, the 5 below 0 wind will whip off Lake Michigan at 20 mph to permanently frostbite my forever sad, stressed face. [And I'll be starting in the winter quarter. Winter up north...] I will wear the most enormous amount of layers known to Man. I will argue with that one dude in our group who will try to oppress me because I'm a black woman. My Johnny may not even be with me. And making time for friends, let alone time to talk to my man, will be scarce and precious.
Talk about the real world. But we'll see...
Now, all I gotta do is get into the school.
[short whisper] Pray!
It will be my own little fantastic "Mea in the City" epic-sode: hair glamourously blowing in the breeze off Lake Michigan as I sit on the beach and write; getting paired with a group of women where we all mesh and produce the greatest ideas for our magazine known to Man; making new friends and going out to poetry readings and to Applebees for drinks; having my man there for me to bounce ideas to at all hours of the night...
Even my fantasy needs to be broken here: My rational side is too rational [and sometimes too ghetto] to think that Northwestern isn't going to be all hard work and rare play. In October, the 5 below 0 wind will whip off Lake Michigan at 20 mph to permanently frostbite my forever sad, stressed face. [And I'll be starting in the winter quarter. Winter up north...] I will wear the most enormous amount of layers known to Man. I will argue with that one dude in our group who will try to oppress me because I'm a black woman. My Johnny may not even be with me. And making time for friends, let alone time to talk to my man, will be scarce and precious.
Talk about the real world. But we'll see...
Now, all I gotta do is get into the school.
[short whisper] Pray!
Friday, June 8, 2007
i did my first public message board posting
I just made a posting on the MSN site in reference to the entire Paris-going-back-to-jail silly sh**. Here is what I said:
I'm glad that Paris was sent back to jail. This entire situation is just an example of how jacked up American culture really is. The rich stay rich, and do whatever the hell they want. In this case, the rest of us "middle/working class" folks win. Were it backwards, there would have been no way that we would have had the luxury to return to our plush Hollywood home and spent jail time doing our nails, gabbing on the phone, and cuddling with a damn dog. I believe that the judge decided on the right thing, and the sheriff should definitely be suspected in coming up on some kind of money for this. I don't have beef with the silly girl, but when you continuously do something stupid, it's half time you get what's coming to you. It's called KARMA, bitch. [laughing delightfully]
And I DARE someone to take up for her! We at War, bitches!!
I'm glad that Paris was sent back to jail. This entire situation is just an example of how jacked up American culture really is. The rich stay rich, and do whatever the hell they want. In this case, the rest of us "middle/working class" folks win. Were it backwards, there would have been no way that we would have had the luxury to return to our plush Hollywood home and spent jail time doing our nails, gabbing on the phone, and cuddling with a damn dog. I believe that the judge decided on the right thing, and the sheriff should definitely be suspected in coming up on some kind of money for this. I don't have beef with the silly girl, but when you continuously do something stupid, it's half time you get what's coming to you. It's called KARMA, bitch. [laughing delightfully]
And I DARE someone to take up for her! We at War, bitches!!
paris is sentenced back to jail, and i'm laughing my ass off
http://tv.msn.com/tv/article.aspx?news=264863>1=7703
AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!
This is the funniest sh** I've read in almost my entire adult existence.
Justice has prevailed.
I should probably sound off tomorrow, once the media circus have left the building...
Oh, but I must add this by a message boarder under the "Do You Feel Sorry For Paris?" headline. It is best articulated by my new, unknown friend, "Cthruthedenial"...
"The public in its outrage over Paris Hilton being released earlier and put on house arrest for some UNKNOWN medical condition; should hold Judge Michael T. Sauer and Sheriff Lee Baca personally responsible for this stupid girl's fate when she gets behind the wheel of her car next time. She obviously wants to experience the same as Brandy and Halle Berry. THEIR LUCK RAN OUT WITH the life of someone else! How many people have not learned with DUI'S and jail time until they have killed someone.
Since when does the money of a few give them the right to continually disrespect the laws of this land? Law enforcement is paid by the tax payers to uphold the laws and should be held accountable for their irresponsible actions when it comes to the safety of its citizens. My hat goes off to City Attorney, Rocky Delgadillo, for standing up for the citizens.
Paris Hilton and all of these other celebrities should be held accountable for their actions just as the rest of us are since they continue to abuse there rights and privileges. They should have no problem paying the price by spending time in jail for what ever maximum length the law permits. If that ruins their careers along the way, OH WELL! Who the heck ever said that jail was to be a glamorous experience? Jail is exactly what these individuals need since they lack the common sense to get help! It could be the only thing that saves their lives and spares the American public the continued embarrassment.
The public should stop reading, seeing their movies, concerts, and thinking that they are something that they are not. Maybe then society could get back to spending more time on issues that concern all of us on this planet, like global warming, education, the war we got lied into, and health care."
Right on, right on, sister! Or, um, brother? Friend. Fine. Right on, my friend, right on.
AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!
This is the funniest sh** I've read in almost my entire adult existence.
Justice has prevailed.
I should probably sound off tomorrow, once the media circus have left the building...
Oh, but I must add this by a message boarder under the "Do You Feel Sorry For Paris?" headline. It is best articulated by my new, unknown friend, "Cthruthedenial"...
"The public in its outrage over Paris Hilton being released earlier and put on house arrest for some UNKNOWN medical condition; should hold Judge Michael T. Sauer and Sheriff Lee Baca personally responsible for this stupid girl's fate when she gets behind the wheel of her car next time. She obviously wants to experience the same as Brandy and Halle Berry. THEIR LUCK RAN OUT WITH the life of someone else! How many people have not learned with DUI'S and jail time until they have killed someone.
Since when does the money of a few give them the right to continually disrespect the laws of this land? Law enforcement is paid by the tax payers to uphold the laws and should be held accountable for their irresponsible actions when it comes to the safety of its citizens. My hat goes off to City Attorney, Rocky Delgadillo, for standing up for the citizens.
Paris Hilton and all of these other celebrities should be held accountable for their actions just as the rest of us are since they continue to abuse there rights and privileges. They should have no problem paying the price by spending time in jail for what ever maximum length the law permits. If that ruins their careers along the way, OH WELL! Who the heck ever said that jail was to be a glamorous experience? Jail is exactly what these individuals need since they lack the common sense to get help! It could be the only thing that saves their lives and spares the American public the continued embarrassment.
The public should stop reading, seeing their movies, concerts, and thinking that they are something that they are not. Maybe then society could get back to spending more time on issues that concern all of us on this planet, like global warming, education, the war we got lied into, and health care."
Right on, right on, sister! Or, um, brother? Friend. Fine. Right on, my friend, right on.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
nicole wanted to be paris, now fears a fate like paris
So, I received my desired rest just in time to find this morning that Ms. Paris has left jail and been confined to her home for 40 days. Those punks. That slut.
Now, half-black buddy Nicole Richie is scared that she, too, will be slapped with the realization that she truly isn't "above the law." See http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19081418/.
Poor thing already looks like she survives on trail mix and water. She would keel over and break a hip were she given a jail sentence. And then those tabloid rumors that she's pregnant...hm. I find that I have no sympathy for these silly girls, especially when I'm out here, busting my butt trying to do right. I have more of a smug, intensely giggle-ridden, Hallelujah-praising pride in knowing that, yes, I am better than them. Please believe me.
I must say, everybody does have problems. Look at the documentary, "The Last Days of Left Eye." Look at Brangelina's life. Look at your life. But don't tell me that problems are worth glamorizing, as done from the skeletal horse's mouth. Especially if you're starting to look like a certified crackhead.
Everybody needs Jesus. Nicole needs something else...
Now, half-black buddy Nicole Richie is scared that she, too, will be slapped with the realization that she truly isn't "above the law." See http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19081418/.
Poor thing already looks like she survives on trail mix and water. She would keel over and break a hip were she given a jail sentence. And then those tabloid rumors that she's pregnant...hm. I find that I have no sympathy for these silly girls, especially when I'm out here, busting my butt trying to do right. I have more of a smug, intensely giggle-ridden, Hallelujah-praising pride in knowing that, yes, I am better than them. Please believe me.
I must say, everybody does have problems. Look at the documentary, "The Last Days of Left Eye." Look at Brangelina's life. Look at your life. But don't tell me that problems are worth glamorizing, as done from the skeletal horse's mouth. Especially if you're starting to look like a certified crackhead.
Everybody needs Jesus. Nicole needs something else...
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
feel my enthusiasm
I'm back in Atlanta. Woo hoo. Feel my enthusiasm.
So far, so good...I'm not getting worried to death.
I'm going home. Getting me some sleep.
So far, so good...I'm not getting worried to death.
I'm going home. Getting me some sleep.
Saturday, June 2, 2007
my lake michigan, illinois blues
I'm in day 3 of my much-needed and much-anticipated Illinois vacation. I'm disappointed that TIME is playing a trick on me because it is going much too fast. My main objective here was to get my head on straight, and reevaluate my job situation and potential school situation. So far, I've visited Northwestern, and I have set my sights on creating the best portfolio to showcase my writing talents in order to get into the school. It's adorable...all of the buildings look like houses. And should I even say that the school sits almost right on Lake Michigan? A Virginia baby's dream...a writer's dream...writing on the beach in sunny warmth.
I have yet to figure out what to do about my job thorn in my ass. I want to stay and "stick it out," but I'm so unhappy there that I would rather pull more down into my misery. I guess that the best thing to do would be to talk to my "boss" about possible improvements to my position. Ha! I almost tricked myself! Good one, Mea! They can suck my dick.
I plan to spend my weekend working on admission essays and figuring out how to get out of this job. It's worse at this possible minute because I already don't want to go back to Atlanta the same way I left. I have faith that I can focus enough to get it together. That, or I can snap and find someone to shoot over some extra Wendy's chili sauce...Then I can take a job as a reformed socialite. And go to rehab...skip the MTV movie awards.
I have yet to figure out what to do about my job thorn in my ass. I want to stay and "stick it out," but I'm so unhappy there that I would rather pull more down into my misery. I guess that the best thing to do would be to talk to my "boss" about possible improvements to my position. Ha! I almost tricked myself! Good one, Mea! They can suck my dick.
I plan to spend my weekend working on admission essays and figuring out how to get out of this job. It's worse at this possible minute because I already don't want to go back to Atlanta the same way I left. I have faith that I can focus enough to get it together. That, or I can snap and find someone to shoot over some extra Wendy's chili sauce...Then I can take a job as a reformed socialite. And go to rehab...skip the MTV movie awards.
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