Random Thoughts for August

I'm forgetting a lot of stuff lately. My aunt's birthday was on Monday, and I haven't called her. I bought her a card several weeks ago, but I misplaced it until Saturday night and still haven't mailed it. I have sympathy cards that also need to be sent. My sister-in-law lost her grandmother, but I didn't get a card and I don't remember signing one. I went to a funeral a few weeks ago and never sent a card (although I signed the book). Another aunt lost her father, but all I did was show up for the funeral and she sent me a thank-you note anyway. I still haven't baked the banana bread that I promised.

My best friend's birthday was yesterday. I have a card for her too, but ask me if I mailed it...

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Can anyone explain Omarosa? She is everywhere. I almost wish Donald Trump had just hired her so she could be filed away in an office somewhere. Surely she must have burned through those 15 minutes by now. But I can't hate her, because how can you hate a sister who's found a way to work some of those black women stereotypes to her advantage? She's arrogant, kind of bitchy, pretty enough, and she can get down in the hood like the rest of us. She could be my bourgie blackwoman superhero...

Come to think of it, Omarosa is the only other black woman on TV with first name recognition besides Oprah. Is that a coinky-dink, given that both of their names begn with O?

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So I'm watching As Time Goes By this afternoon and it occurred to me that I've seen most of the series now. I missed a few of the early episodes, but I saw them on the BBC a few weeks ago. Now that PBS has gotten near the end of the series, I'm starting to feel a little sad because in a few days my show might get replaced with some other Brit-com that I may not like. They already replaced All Creatures Great and Small on Saturday afternoons...

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I like the BBC, but there are no people of color on their TV shows, or at least not the ones that get shown over here. I know there are brown people in Europe. They colonized or enslaved half of us, and once upon a time, the sun never set on the British empire, so what gives? After the train bombing in London, they were quick to trot out all of the black school kids to prove how diverse their society had become.

They should be proud of their Black Brits. There is SEAL, Soul to Soul, Caron Wheeler, Incognito, that chef, Ainsely Herriot, and the DJ on Ellen. Oh I almost forgot, Scary Spice is black too (most of the time).

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It is officially the middle of August, and that means I need a life, a job outside of the house, and some new shoes. My life is pretty boring these days, with crossword puzzles, blogging and Brit-coms. I actually have a job outside of the house, but I need to get paychecks every two weeks like normal people. Fall is right around the corner, and I want some new clothes. I have to look good as I sit in front of the computer.

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I've joined a webring, or at least I submitted my blog for inclusion in a webring. It is for black women with blogs, but I have to wait to learn if I've been accepted. This is like applying for college. I should qualify, but I wonder if after reading my blog, they will think that I am a self-loathing oreo. I make fun of people a lot, and I find black people especially comical. I don't listen to Tom Joyner, I don't drive a nice car, I don't do church anymore, and I like British TV. How will that play to Urban America?

Stay tuned. Ciao!

Outrage of the Hour!

I got curious and decided to scroll through other blogs that were updated around the same time I updated mine, and I was attracted to one of those self-important "conservative conservative" titles. So I decided, what the heck, I've had some oat bran today (trust me, there is a definite link between this garbage and my morning Cheerios)...

So, this guy lists all the reasons why one might be a Democrat, and of course, they include the obligatory quip about liberal arts majors working at Starbucks, but then the rest of the reasons are narrow-minded and downright hostile. Of course on his alternative list, he rhapsodizes about God, guns, SUVs and why conservatives will inherit the Kingdom of God.

I hate self-righteous Republifu**s (my new term). They suck.

I won't even waste time debunking his list, because in the off chance that someone reads this, I refuse to even slightly endorse his blog. But I will say this, people who make lists about why they are so great and why others who disagree with them are stupid or lame should be careful not to protest too much, lest they be revealed as hypocrites. If you have to tell me how great you are, then maybe it means you need to spend less time talking and more time doing, so that people can see that greatness reflected in your actions.

And by the way, if you believe that guns, FOX news, and Wal-Mart are virtues, well then, thank God I'm not a Republifu**!

Hateration

That's not even a real word, but it does describe how I felt after dance class last night.

I'm hating my body and its limitations; hating the other dancers in the studio because of their limitations; and I'm totally hating the new woman with all that professional training who made every single one of us look bad.

Actually, she has challenged me to improve, in a way. After taking one class with this woman, I am going to do whatever it takes to get my leg as high as it can go, to get my feet to point as far as they can, and to get my body into the shape it was in back when I was a teenager. She made me feel old and creaky, and she is several years OLDER than me, but give me a bit of time, and I'll show her!

Makes me wonder what the heck have I been doing with my life all these years? I've been dancing since the age of nine, yet I doubt I ever had as much flexibility (or talent) as she did. Did I miss something? I rarely missed a class...so what is my problem?

Clearly, it is focus, and how I totally lack it. That is the story of my life.

Like now, I am supposed to be working on a cover letter for a job. I've done the letter and my resume is ready to go, but I need to update my references and instead, I am blogging about dance class and my potatoes. I did write the letter for another job for which I plan to apply, so I did accomplish something today. Now I just need to print it out and prepare it for mailing along with the letter I planned to mail to my client two weeks ago, and the other project for my old boss. Oh, and a few emails here and there concerning stuff I've been avoiding. Do you see a pattern here?

Yep. So I guess I'll get back to work...

Bliggity Blog Blough!!!

According to the counter, I have posted over 50 blogs since February! Hooray, now I just need to get someone to read them...

I was talking to the hub this morning and he said that I should try to be funny. I told him that I think I am funny, on occasion. He still never reads my blog, so how would he know, anyway?

To be honest, I carp on about no one reading my stuff, but I don't read anyone else's stuff either. When I first got started, I would go through the profiles to see what I had in common with other bloggers, but that lasted about 10 days. I found that I have a lot in common with most bloggers in that we are all bored wanna be writers. Some people have had a flash of fame, like I did briefly in 2001, and others labor in online obscurity (like I do now) hoping for that off chance that someone will stumble across their work. It's a living.

I don't even promote my blog. I have friends whom I could get to read this, but then I get all nervous that my writing is corny and too personal. Do any of my friends really want to read about my tomato plants or my days spent picking lent from my navel? I'm sure they don't care to read about my blue moods or my secret love for all things British (yeah, it's true, I'm addicted to the BBC).

And I don't write overly political stuff all the time either. I go through phases when I feel like being outraged, but then it gets too tiring to keep that up. If I were getting paid to write, I could probably manage it for a while, but in the end, I'd get bored with it.

I am a temperamental writer. I deal in emotions a lot, which is probably a good thing for an essayist, better for a novelist and perfect for a poet. Right now, I am none of those things. I am more of a doodler, a person who writes little ditties to kill time. This is supposed to be practice, and I'll keep at it...until something better comes along.

Ciao!

Build It and They Will Come

Today Marc Fisher wrote an interesting column about the absence of Starbucks in certain parts of the region. He focused on the few Starbucks offerings in Prince George's County, home to the nation's highest population of affluent African Americans.

A few years ago, there was an urban legend email that circulated about certain companies having a "non-urban mandate" which was code for not locating in black and brown neighborhoods. It listed about 20 companies that would not locate among us, and Starbucks topped the list, along with Best Buy and Eddie Bauer. The email urged a boycott, but to date, I haven't heard that black folks had stopped buying TVs and oversized clothes.

But apparently, the absence of Starbucks in certain neighborhoods hasn't hurt their bottom line. Starbucks has populated downtown DC like a family of bunny rabbits. And they are always crowded with people of all racial and ethnic backgrounds. In some places, there are three Starbucks in one neighborhood, all within walking distance of each other. They are about as common as CVS.

But in some ways the article is right, Starbucks is seemingly everywhere in certain parts of the region, and scarse in others. There is no Starbucks east of the Anacostia River, nor is there one anywhere near me in NE (the closest one is in Union Station). Over the line, there are two Starbucks in and around College Park, but according to the article, there are only three more in the entire county. What gives?

It is easy to say that race plays a role, and I think that is exactly the problem. But the problem is not Starbucks', it is ours. Black people are not entrepreneurial--we are consumers. We would rather spend our money on purchases instead of investments. In order to get businesses to come into our neighborhoods, we have to be willing to invest in them ourselves.

In both DC and PG, the mantra needs to be, "If we want it, let's build it ourselves!" In the old days, that is exactly what black folks did when the white businesses refused to serve us. We built in our own neighborhoods, so why can't we do that now? Surely someone has the expertise needed to own and operate the types of service-oriented businesses we crave. If we don't, then who says someone can't learn? This isn't rocket science...

Bottom line, it should not be up to remote corporate officials to decide that who is worthy of patronizing their stores. If we built our own coffee shop in downtown Upper Marlboro or on 12th Street in NE, then Starbucks, Cosi or another corporate coffee conglomerate would take notice, because they'd realize that it was an untapped market. But even more importantly, it would empower us as a people to pursue ownership. Honestly, we could live without another Starbucks because it would be better to encourage local business ownership than to spend money on overpriced coffee beans from Seattle.

I'm talking big because I think big. In the words of Ella Baker, this is bigger than a cup of coffee--its about who owns the store.

Dealing with my Demons

I finally got the blood test that I've been avoiding for months. I went to the doctor back in December and was scheduled to get blood work so that she could evaluate my cholesterol. The previous test showed that I had elevated levels. So, I finally went to get the follow-up test last Monday, and the results came in this week and were worse. My cholesterol is still high.

This is the type of wake-up call that other people who lead dangerous lives get. Instead, someone as boring vanilla as me gets it at 31 years old, as if I've led the type of food-binging lifestyle that affects other people twice my age and weight. This is devestating. And it is made worse by the fact that I've really been trying to lower it through diet and exercise this past year.
Of course, I could do better. I can stand to lose about 15 pounds, maybe 20. I could drink a lot more water. I could try to stay calm more often. I could take a walk on the treadmill instead of sitting around watching TV. All of these things would be improvements, but it isn't like I'm 50 pounds overweight.

This is the manifestation of a problem that I have refused to acknowledge for some time. I am unhappy about the general state of my life right now. I worry about everything. I beat myself up over small things. I fail a lot. And when I get like this, I eat.

Mind you, I don't have anything close to an eating disorder. I don't binge and I don't abuse food. If anything, I do what most people do when they get lonely or upset--I palliate. If I feel particularly stressed about something, I drink coffee or other drinks with caffeine. When it is close to that time of the month, I eat salty foods like chips. Or maybe I get the rare sweet tooth and I'll get something with chocolate. But overall, I eat pretty well. So I don't get this.

The long and the short of all of this is that I have to change or I could end up taking medication for the rest of my life. I could get sick, have a heart attack or a stroke. I could die...

So I know what I have to do, and on the top of the list is to eliminate stress. It's time to get re-aligned again, to get rid of anything that is making me sick. That means getting rid of projects that are long overdue for completing, getting paid for work that has been completed, and finally getting some real work that pays on time. It also means focusing on those things that make me happy and finding balance.

I can make it. I will make it.

Credit Where Credit is Due

I am taking this opportunity to acknowledge my mother. She taught for many years in the public school system and accomplished a great deal. She taught her students to expect more from themselves, something that kids desparately need today. I am speaking up for my mother because I feel that she deserves some acknowledgment every now and then.

There was the article in today's paper that got me to singing my mother's praises. The article was about a certain young actress from this area, who shall remain nameless. She has a starring role in an upcoming movie, and the article is one of those homegirl-makes-good pieces. I read through the article for several reasons: (1) I always read these types of articles; (2) it is about a local black woman who has done well, and those articles are rare; and (3) the actress is a former student of my mother's.

Unfortunately, the actress does not mention that she was a student of my mother's. She talks about her struggles and about how she is just now getting her big break, but in between mentioning the work she did in high school and college, she never mentions performing with my mother's drama club in junior high school.

I vividly remember my mother's drama students because I essentially grew up with them. As a matter of fact, I harbored a certain amount of resentment towards them because it seemed that the drama kids got more from my mother than I did. She was a surrogate mother to many of her students, and some developed major feelings for her (in the form of some serious school-boy crushes). In turn, she was devoted to them and took her role as their teacher/mentor/mother very seriously. If someone did something stupid, she chastised them just like a mother. If someone needed some encouragement, she routed for them just like a mother.

So, I was disappointed not to see some small mention of my mother in the article. I remember this young lady, and I was the one who told my mother about her a few years back when she got her first big movie role.

My mother had taught English/Language Arts for a few years, and one year she was assigned to teach drama and public speaking as well. Although she had never taught drama before, she entered her students in a city-wide Shakespeare festival to perform Macbeth. I remember that she spent several weeks preparing the students for their scene and that she made the costumes herself. She wanted them to make a good impression because she knew that her students were the underdogs. These were inner-city kids, and at the time, no one expected them to be able to perform Shakespeare. Well, in classic "Remember the Titans" style, my mother's students were outstanding, and I distinctly remember the way she raved about the performance of a certain actress who was Lady Macbeth.

Mind you, all of this took place when I was less than 10 years old, and my mother went on to teach drama to many more students through the years. Yet I still remember this event in particular, so why wouldn't this actress recount any of this for the article?

Of course, newspaper and magazine articles get editted, so it is very possible that my mother was acknowledged in an earlier version of the article. Well, I really don't believe that, just like I don't believe that this actress is claiming to be the same age as me (she is at least five years older). People say all kinds of things, and I guess they forget all kinds of things too.

The way I see it, everyone of us owes a debt to those who helped make it possible for our current success. None of us achieves any success without the support, nurturing and guidance of others, namely our teachers. That's what those long-winded Oscar speeches are about--giving thanks.

Now I can't say that I am any better when it comes to acknowledging the influence others have had in my life. I too have been forgetful and neglectful. I've had some great teachers in my life, some people who truly encouraged me and believed in what I had to offer. I can still name some of them: Mrs. Savoy (elementary school principal); Mills (2 and 6 grades); Mrs. Darasaw (pre-K); Mrs. Tucker (elementary science); Mrs. Brooks (dance); Father Moore (middle school religion); Mrs. Page (high school chemistry); and most of the English Department at Spelman. I've received encouragement from a wide range of people outside of the classroom as well--people from my church, my peers from school, and my co-workers from my various jobs. Lastly, I have received enormous encouragement from my family, especially from my parents.

We all forget things. I forget to do mundane tasks on a daily basis. Yet we also remember. I can recall events from my childhood as if they occurred yesterday. What I am remembering about the drama kids and the Shakespeare festival doesn't even qualify as my experience. So I may be overstating my mother's influence in this woman's life--her current fame may be due to sheer determination to succeed. But, I can't help but to think that my mother deserves a little credit for her fame. After all, she had to start somewhere. We all did.

So, here's to my mother!