Category Archives: Just Me, Being Me

Feeling Good

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I’m feeling good…

Good like the cool rain taking the heat out of a sultry day
Like the breeze causing my skirt to gently sway
In that zany, loopy fun kind of cray

Good like finding a long-lost favored ring
A walk in the park the first days of spring
On a hot day, a sip of some cool fruity thing

Good like cutting with the Little Joker in Spades
Knowing I still have the big one to be played
Hiding the gleam in my eyes behind some shades

Oh, I’m feeling good.

For I’ve  spent way too many days with my smile lying
Fake laughing to cover how my heart was crying
In a world not even close to caring how my soul was dying

And too long I let others tell me how I should be
But never was it ever what I knew I could be
So now I only work on what is it good to me

Now that’s not saying I’m not feeling for my brothers set adrift
Or lost my empathy for my sisters getting the short shrift
Or that I don’t care about our socio and economic rift

Because sometimes the world makes me wanna holla from that stress
And like Marvin I want to know what’s going on with this mess and…

Excuse me, I digress…

Where was I?

Yeah, but right now? I’m feeling good!

Good like looking the mirror and loving the sight
Whether in silks by day or leathers by night
When I know I’ve got it all together so tight

Good enough to wear a mini in a skinny crowd
Not hide my beauty in some mumu or shroud
Head high, gut forward, loud and proud

And yes, sometimes it comes to pass
That there are those who chose to lambast
For they have a problem with my fat ass

But I’m not the one that’s going to obsess
And with each bite of food reassess and…

Oh excuse me again, I digress…

I am feeling good!

Good like having a day that started with doubt
But then proving I do know what I’m about
And later catching someone fine checking me out

That kind of good that can only come from within
That sneaky good I feel when I’m about to sin
With the one that gives me more than just a grin

The good of being in the zone
When my voice takes on that tone
Like the sound of a pleasured moan

Good like when I get that feeling of that special caress
From the hand slipping slowly under my dress and…

Damn, did it again, huh? My bad… Excuse me… I digress…

But no, y’all just don’t understand! I’m feeling good!

The giddy with friends that’s fondly tolerated
The kind of good that’s always celebrated
Where those near can’t help be feel elevated!

Feeling like Joy has answered my speed dial!
Good like not a thing on this earth can cramp my style
Good like the strength of my strut, the gleam of my smile

Good for the first time in a long time I feel like I’m able
To handle the crap still left on my mental table
Feeling a  good, that’s so good, that I a poet can’t even label!

Umph –  that kind of good!

And yeah I know I can’t sing it as Nina would, but

Birds flying high, you know how I feel
Sun up in the sky, you know how I feel
Leaves drifting on by, you know how I feel
It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life for me and…

I’m feeling GOOD!

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Feeling good about dVerse ~ Poets Pub’s | OpenLinkNight : Week 104

Rachel Jeantel On Trial

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Rachel Jeantel, the 19 year old young woman questioned as a key prosecution witness in the Trayvon Martin trial, was/is put through a trial of her own in the court of public opinion.  Social media overall, but especially Twitter have newly pages, status updates, posts and hashtags which mock nearly everything about her.  One would almost think that Rachel Jeantel was the one on trial Wednesday and Thursday instead of George Zimmerman.

I’m not going to lie; I cringed as I watched/heard some of the proceedings.   I knew how she would appear to some people. She was virtually a walking stereotype: a poorly educated, fat, angry black teenage female with an attitude.  However, I also saw a young woman thrown into a situation none of us would ever want to be in, trying hard to keep her head up and do the best she can.

Her demeanor, especially on that first day was most described as “antagonistic and defensive”.  No shit Sherlock.  Is this truly a surprise?  She’s a 19 year old witness at a murder trial facing the lawyer for the defendant.  The person she knows whose job it is to discredit her and anything she may say in hopes of making her look bad and his client look good to the jury.  Nah, you’re not going to be on your guard and defensive about that at all.

The next day, she was calmer; there was noticeably less antagonism between her and the lawyer during questioning.  Enough so that it West himself commented on it, to which a good night’s sleep was Jeantel’s reply.    Was the discerning public happy?  Not quite, for now the was commentary over her multiple uses of “sir” to Don West in a subtle implication of “Uncle Toming“.  Classic damned if one does/damned if one does not.

Nearly every other tweet regarding her either induced facepalming or had me outright cringing in its vitriol. Posters questioned her education, mocked her looks and retweeted her less than inspiring tweets. Because we all know, that at nineteen years of age, every phrase that spouts from ones thoughts in 160 characters or less is going to be jaw-dropping brilliant.  Still I what simply cannot grasp is why so many blacks in particular on Twitter felt the need to mock and insult a teenaged girl clearly still grieving over the loss of a friend.

The way these detractors have posted “in jest” is so heartless it makes me sick. And almost none of it has anything to do with the trail itself, but exists solely to humiliate a young woman at what must be the most vulnerable time in her life thus far.  It begs to wonder how any of those finding such humorous sport in this would fare on a courtroom stand, under a tremendous amount of pressure, while being watched by the nation, all at 19 years of age.

Makes me wanna holler throw up both my hands.

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Breathe

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Not sure when it happened, horrifies me that it happened without my noticing, but suddenly I am terrified of reaching – truly reaching and risking – for the things I want.

A friend recently posted the above as her Facebook status.  The below is my response…

Breathe. You slipped into a moment of complacency. It happens to all of us. Perhaps you needed the break for a moment, but it’s lasted too long and now you’re aware. Rest is over hon, time to get your life in gear again.

Breathe. It is a little more terrifying than the first you put your faith in His hands, while taking your guts in yours and leaped, because then you didn’t think anything could slow your forward motion. Now you know things can if you’re not paying attention and be vigilant, so it does not go too far again. Moreover, you know you had the faith/guts to start this path before, you will and find it again.

Breathe. Stop worrying about the endgame for a moment. What is the very first step you need to accomplish to set you on your path again? Focus on that, complete it, reassess, and focus on that next.

Breathe. How can you ever fail as long you’re ever trying to move forward and so many of us have your back? I’ll let you guess what final word of my heartvice to you will be. You can begin with that…

For an admitted Snark Queen, every now and then, even I surprise myself…

What’s Yours?

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No I cannot forgive you yet
No I cannot forgive you yet
You leave us all in debt
I should have known…

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When the Foo Fighter’s song “I Should Have Known” came out, group lead Dave Grohl stated -and he does have a point- that anything he writes relating to loss or death, the public will generally read into it that it is in some fashion related to the suicide of his Nirvana band mate, Kurt Cobain. However, the song becomes especially more haunting and Cobain related for those of us that knew that Dave was joined by two other members of the now defunct Nirvana as guests musicians on this song.  And while Grohl certainly understands why the public instantly makes the connection to Cobain here, he has stated repeatedly that yes Kurt is in there, the song was not specifically about him.

And that I can understand…

For  just as much as I feel the impact of the loss Cobain in this song, as I also feel the loss of my late-husband…

I was home  -thank goodness- when I first heard the song. On that very first listen, by the end of the first stanza, I remember I stopped everything I was doing at the moment, sat down and just listened to the song on repeat. “I Should Have Known” immediately reminded me of some of the stages of grieving, I went through…

The guilt: I’m still standing here, You leave my heart in debt, caught me unawares…

But especially the crescendo as Grohl refrains No I cannot forgive you yet.

It’s raw, it’s pounding, you can all but see the fury and anguish pouring out. For those of us who have walked the grieving path, especially for the loss of someone who left us unexpectedly, we know this. We know it too well.

When my husband passed away, I recall being in that anger stage for a very long time.

A. Very. Long. Time…

And this song took me right back there to that very first year of grieving.  It hit me so hard, that when I was finally able to turn the song off an hour later, I was hurt and wanted to scream all over again.  This song is  such a brilliant mood changer for me, even now.  Here I am -some seven years after my husband’s passing and two years after the song’s debut- that the moment I heard those first opening chords of the strings through my iPod, it still gave me a moment’s pause, that I stopped reading my book and just listened.

Enough of a pause that, hours later, I still had to acknowledge it and write this blog.

Everyone has a song that gives them pause… what’s yours?

Friday 55: What You Ask For…

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Again, I awaken breathless.  Again, remembering nothing of the dreams that could cause such a state.  Last night I told myself -don’t think in the morning; say the first thing that comes to mind aloud, and I will remember.

So I did, and I did; but now I wish I hadn’t…

I dreamt of you.

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Trying my hand at Flash Fiction, also called sudden fiction, micro fiction or nanofiction via Friday 55.
Write a story in exactly 55 words, then tell the G-Man!

His Eye Is On The Sparrow

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keith_sparrow

His words…

I may have just gotten in a lot of trouble for disassembling a good portion of the steel siding around the front entrance door to the shop…. so I could grab a baby sparrow that fell down into the metal channel with mom and dad freakin’ out….

Worth it.

Definitely worth it.

Yet one more of the many reasons I am proud to call this guy my friend.

The Bitter With The Sweet

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It was my third week back at work after my husband’s passing. Still early in my path of grieving, the okay days were the ones spent staying one step ahead of the tears in want of falling at any given moment.  The better days were the ones I got through simply by rote. This particular day was a cross between the two and only I knew why. Thus, it was something of a surprise when early in the afternoon a flower delivery guy stops at my desk.  My mind was understandably elsewhere and it took a moment for it even register that the flowers were for me.

I remember being perturbed as I signed for them.  I was thinking who in their right mind would send me condolence flowers, at work, a solid month after the fact. I mean what else could they be? And why today of all days?  I open the box to reveal two dozen red roses in a silver vase. They were lovely and smelled heavenly.  After getting fresh water and arranging them, I finally read the card that came with it.

Because you thought I never would –Posslq

I loved my husband dearly, but it was a running point of contention/running joke between us on how he was not a flowers giving kind of guy. The compromise being that I received flowers on Mother’s Day and Valentine’s Day; that was it. And that was the way it remained. Still, in our nearly twenty years together, never had he sent flowers to work for any reason, until that day.

The signature “Posslq” -pronounced “poss-el-que”- stood for People of Opposite Sex Sharing Living Quarters.  It was something we got from the late Andy Rooney of “60 Minutes” fame, where in his not quite jokingly curmudgeon way stated the IRS should add POSSLQ to the Married/Single/Head of Household options on the annual tax forms, to reflect couples who live together, but are not married.  We had turned it into a silly term of endearment for each other, which we had stopped using, quite correctly, once we married.  It is the only reason I knew they were from him, as no one else would have known we called each other that.  I then knew why they arrived on that specific day – it was our wedding anniversary.

I learned later on in the day, after a few phone calls, that he made the arrangements for the flowers the Friday before he died. The guy at the florist shop remembered him and how he was making jokes about messing with his wife (me), on a random whim. None of which was surprising at all to those who have had the pleasure/torture of knowing my late-husband. But at that moment the incredulous reality of it set in and I burst into laughter.

I had not laughed that hard, that sincerely, since before my husband passed.  One of my co-workers popped his head over the low barrier of out joined cubicles. He was smiling, happy to see me laughing and wanted to know what was so funny, so I told him.  “My dead husband just sent me flowers for our anniversary.” Suffice it to say, that wiped the smile from his face, which made me laugh even more.  I explained it to him and then he understood. Granted it took some convincing before he would believe that I really was all right; that my laughter was not from hysteria and I was not about to lose all it in the middle of the office floor.

My husband was the reason I lost my laughter. It made perfect sense to me he was the reason I got it back. Surprisingly, and yet not, I really was okay with it.  Now, seven years after his passing, there’s always a twinge of the bittersweet in my smile when I use that vase.

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Daily Post: Secret Admirers

Daily Post: Bittersweet Memories

And come see what else is slicing at Two Writing Teachers:
Slice of Life Teal

Slice of Life Weekly Writing Challenge – May 21, 2013

Calm Under Pressure?- Fine, Completely Uncaring?- No Bueno

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I understand many major municipalities police dispatch units are woefully understaffed.

I understand that dispatchers have a “script” they must follow, to get the pertinent information.

I even understand that dispatchers receiving crank calls by the dozens on the daily, can easily grow jaded over years of hysterical phone calls coming in.

Still, I have to say the seemingly complete apathetic attitude of the Cleveland 911 dispatcher regarding Amanda Berry’s frantic  phone disturbs me.

If you have not heard it, give a listen…

Amanda Berry 9-1-1 Call – Missing Since 2003, Found Alive 5.6.2013

Okay, on the reality side, I am not expecting any dispatcher to go all out ala Halle Berry’s character in “The Call”, so let’s not go there.  However,  a panicked crying woman tells she’s been missing for ten years,  just became free of her abductors and needs help deserves more of a response than “We’re going to send them as soon as we get a car open.” and “Talk to them when they get there.”.

“…as soon as we get an open car”????  If Amanda Berry had not practically begged dispatch into sending a car immediately it makes one wonder just how long she could have potentially waited for assistance.  Dispatch could have, and should have, placed her on hold as a car was sent out and then stayed on the line and talked to the girl, now a woman, until the police arrived.  It was so clear Amanda desperately wanted to keep a connection to the dispatch until her rescue. Amanda desperately needed that connection, yet dispatch simply did the minimum, and dumped the call.

The way dispatch dismissed Amanda with “I told you they’re on their way; talk to them when they get there, OK.”  sounded like an irritated parent, fussing at the child who keeps interrupting in the midst of watching a favorite show.  You can all but see the dispatcher’s rolling of the eyes in annoyance. Can you imagine Berry’s confusion, frustration and fear at that moment as she was politely, but firmly being forced to hang up?

“…Check out the kidnapping in District 2…”

Even as we listen to the dispatcher transfer the information to have it processed, the complete sense of  “whatevs”  in the handling is near appalling.

To be on the fair side, Dispatcher Perdy (sp?), the dispatcher who took the fateful call, did her job. She took the call, got the pertinent information and transferred it to the appropriate party. That is all she is required to do. Yet, I pray no loved one of hers, if having a desperate emergency, gets processed in the same indifferent manner in which she handled Amanda Berry.

My God, all the things that could have gone so horribly wrong because of this dispatcher’s nonchalance. Thankfully this story has a happy ending, and bless you Charles Ramsey!  Oh but, would I have loved to have seen the dispatcher’s face when the truth of Amanda Berry, Gina DeJesus and Michelle Knight came to light.

In The Spirit

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The passionate call of the joined heart beat
Felt long past when the heart was nubile
The feeling of spring’s first blooms so sweet
The old memory that still makes me smile
It’s the urge at a concert to just weep
The comfort at night when I fall asleep

The piece that’s with me wherever I roam
In the spirit of land, of heart, of home

The knowing when it’s my time to let go
After countless days and nights on this earth
A song on the end of the world I know
That began playing since the day of my birth
As my Deity holds my life in sway
I am drenched peace, as though it’s my last day

For I know I’ve lived the best way I can
In the spirit of love to fellow man

The not so free will that brings me to here
Those voices of guidance to go or to wait
Gifts of inner light to make the dark clear
Past lessons that leads me to paths straight
The persons I feel when no one is there
When needed their presence snakes through the air

Their hands go right through me like ghosts and walls
In the spirit of the ancestral call

A coat of many colors dark and fair
Sometimes it is sparse, sometimes it flows free
Those are my scarves and my rings that I wear
The glow of words that accessorize me
The trifle of rhyme that falls just right
The feeling that haunts “post this tonight”

Paint, pencils, pens and pixels I use
In the spirit of the magic I call Muse

The delightful joy I can’t put into words
The raw anger growing above the din
The most quiet of calm I’ve ever heard
The connection of love with my close kin
The slow chill of knowing hell’s on its way
The warm glow of just being, that needs no say

And it’s to my core when I feel it
In the spirit of living in the spirit
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dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Meeting the Bar: Your Voice–Let’s Hear It!

Mountain Dew Drops Racist Commercial

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Mountain Dew  Drops “…the most racist commercial in history”

For those of you at work or on a device that can’t/won’t let you view the video, let me break it down for you:

In a police station, on one side of the one-way glass a battered white woman, on crutches stands next to a white detective who casually sips a Mountain  Dew while asking her to “nail this little sucker.”  Two other men, one white and one black, presumed to be fellow detectives, are also on their side of the glass.

On the other side of the glass is a line-up of all African-American male suspects. But  not just your average Joe Blow black man, no.  Each male exemplifies every inner city hip-hop/urban/thug stereotype a mama could ever warn her precious babies about, and a goat.

Yes, an actual goat.

The police detective tries to get the woman to point out her assailant “..the one with four legs”, but the woman is paralyzed in fear over whatever these scary black men, and a goat, have done and might yet do to her if she talks.

To further ensure her silence, the goat with the name card of “Felicia”, is portrayed with a deep speaking voice that sounds more like a pimp character from blaxploitation films than one would imagine say – a nanny goat would sound like, as he(?) utters encouragement such as “snitches get stitches, fool”  and “Keep ya mouth shut. When I get outta here, I’m gonna do you up” until the woman hobbles out of the room in tears, screaming.

You just need to watch this hot ass mess to get the full impact, but I’ll go ahead and ask the question already formed in your mind, in some fashion:

WHAT. THE. FUCK?!?!?!

So PepsiCo, tell us again, how did this bullshit come about? Mountain Dew recently released three new ads featuring a crazed goat voiced by rapper Tyler, the Creator, who was also the mastermind behind the commercials. The goat is seen attacking a waitress after she gives him the soda, fleeing a cop after getting caught with a car trunk full of the soda, and then threatening that waitress from behind the window of a criminal lineup Tyler, the Creator  is a founding member of the rap group Odd Future. Never heard of them? Neither had I and I apologize for ruining that particular peace of bliss for you.  It seems shock and offense are the tools of his trade for Odd Future. Tyler, known for his violent lyrics (“You’ll see the meaning of stalking/ when I pop out the dark to find you/ And that new dude that you’re seeing with an attitude/ Then proceed to fuck up your evening”), the rapper is committed to crossing boundaries of taste and decency.  It is members of the group who portray the human suspects in the line up. Odd Future is a group known for trying to provoke people with their actions. And provoke they did.

In just 59 seconds, the total running length of the clip, there is

Misogyny:

The sole female in the commercial is not a cop, not even a thug, but a beaten, abused, and likely sexually assaulted woman.  Because yes, this makes total sense in a soda commercial.

African-American Misandry:

It this Dewiverse it seems all black men are either misogynistic thugs, especially in the hip-hop/rap culture, or the token brother, barely noticeably standing in the background.

Stereotypes:

Black man in the urban/hip-hop/rap culture all wear du-rags, gold front teeth, white t-shirts (generally under an over-sized plaid shirt),  and go around abusing women, especially white women, every chance they get.

Racism.

What? Don’t you know only the ‘good ones’, read a non-threatening black man,  who knows how to stay in his place just outside  of the main spotlight that shines on the others, get to be in the place with the good, read white, guys.    When the detective coaches her with “the one in the du-rag” the camera focuses on one of the human, though by this point we clearly understand the goat is the perpetrator.  They are all are animals and look alike. (Think about it, what side of the glass was the goat on again?)

Yes, now that it has been brought to their attention on several fronts PepsiCo, has pulled the offensive ads from their site and their subsidiaries as well as have Odd Future remove it theirs.  Yet, oddly enough the blame is not spread on the various ad execs who not only signed off on this fuckery from the concept stage and then gave it the green light to be produced and aired. No, the finger is squarely pointed at the black guy, Taylor the Creator, read scape goat – pun fully intended. I mean what’s the problem? If the black guy was okay with it… right? Because clearly not one of those ad makers  were born and raised here in America and were totally clueless as to how such bullshit would be perceived. The ad-makers were very aware of Tyler’s music and decided to exploit that button-pushing. They absolutely knew what they were in for and wanted to to start shit—why? Just to sell soda – period.   PepsiCo deserves to be taken to task for this.

Congratulations Tyler, you not-so-stupid fuck, you’re getting your Dew. I hope they’re aren’t using lube.