Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Hey Mami

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries

(aka the shit that comes out of my mouth).

On being addressed as a female progenitor by people, other than the two I actually gave birth to, one time too many:

Him: Hey Mami

Me (annoyed): I am not your mother!

Him (surprised): But it’s just a term of endearment.

Me (eyes rolling): You just laid eyes on me for the first time in your life. I have yet to become an endearment for you to have a term to. It’s rude and an insult to all the women who are mothers, who have put in the work and earned the title.

Him (fishing): Maybe it just means on first sight I think you’ve got what it takes to love and take care of me.

Me (incredulously): Really?

Him (thinking he gained a point): Yeah.

Me (evil smile): So on first sight you think I’ve got what it takes…?

Him (cocky): Yeah.  To cook, clean and  all that good stuff, like a mother would.

Me (trying not to be mean, but failing):  And occasionally whip your ass?

Him (back peddling): No, that’s not what I meant, I…

Me (totally nonplussed at his ignorance by now): And is there’s some Oedipal history I should be aware of?

Him (clueless): What kind of history…?

Me (in full on evil mode): newsflash boy, because most men know better, when it comes to the majority of females you meet on the street addressing us by the title of the first woman whose vagina you came sliding out of, is not considered a compliment to the woman whose vagina you’re trying to slide into. Good-bye.

Want to guess what term of endearment was heard as I walked away? Hint: It rhymes with mucking witch.

Me (not even bothering to turn around): Thank you!
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Slice of Life graphic

Slice of Life Weekly Writing Challenge – April 16, 2013

Being Human

 

 
A chance design, or all His will?
I wonder still.
Holy? Profane? Scared? Obscene?
What does it mean?
Living each day the best we can,
Being human,
From birth to death each single span.
Combination of what we feel,
And all the ways in which we deal?
I wonder still, what does it mean, being human?

A new Oviellejo to ponder as you wander…

I sat here this morning bemoaning my current bout of insomnia and how it is taking finally its toll on me today. Cranky from lack of rest. Jittery from the excessive amounts of caffeine I’ve already consumed to get me through this day. A day that still has several more long hours in it before I can lay my head to rest and hope I can get some decent sleep tonight.

And then a friend posted a link: 40 Of The Most Powerful Photographs Ever Taken

To directly quote from the article “A moving collection of iconic photographs from the last 100 years that demonstrate the heartbreak of loss, the tremendous power of loyalty, and the triumph of the human spirit. Warning: Some of these will make you weep.”

I first saw this article when it came out last year. Some of the photographs will at least give you pause, it got to me then. As I went through these photographs again today, I realize nothing has changed. I felt that same sense of kin. For people from my own country and abroad. I find myself not just sympathetic, but empathetic to so many of them. People I never have and/or never will meet. Their raw moments of joys, pains, fears, courage.

I am reminded once more of the beautiful fragility that is the human element.

And oddly enough, I am suddenly wide awake and no longer cranky. Perspective is everything.

Here’s passing on a little of that perspective for your day:

Seriously, before clicking the link down below, if you’re consuming any food or beverage, put it down. In addition you may want to have a napkin/tissue at the ready for any cryi– I mean for any grit that may get stuck under your eyelid.

40 Of The Most Powerful Photographs Ever Taken

Updated to add: I suspect a certain photo of a man in a cowboy during the aftermath of the bombings at the Boston Marathon will be added to this list soon.

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Open Link Night — week 92

How I Ink It…

Rai's back tattoo

Always meant to ask if you chose that order of symbols specifically, what the order means or did it just look artistically best to you in that order, if you got them at once or “add-a-charm” …? Q

As several others have asked similar questions about my sole tattoo– thought I’d answer you all here.

Actually, it started from the middle out.  I sort of placed them in the order in which I learned of them. I was raised Christian, so it is first in my life and thus above the peace sign. Judaism was the second religion I learned, placed right below the peace sign as a balance. While I eventually heard of several other faiths, Christianity and Judaism were the only two faiths that I was surrounded by and had any “working knowledge” of until high school.  Before then with my very limited worldview, Muslims were who the Jews were fighting in Israel and that’s pretty much it. I realize now, that it was something of a subconscious thing to put the Crescent closer to Magen David as opposed to the cross as Muslims were more their (Israeli) problem, than ours (Americans) as I was growing up.  Who knew? Buddhism, Hinduism and Taoism were foreign concepts. Seriously, some mention of such in martial arts films would be the closest thing to understanding about The Way as I would come for years.  I was not associating with followers of those faiths to ask and learn, so my knowledge was spotty to say the very least.

Entering the workforce brought my first one-on-one interactions with Muslims and learning of the Koran.  Eventually Taoists, Hindus, Buddhists came into my rapidly expanding world view.  I came to know more people and as a result their respective faiths.  Books and now the internet also help flesh out of my still woefully lacking knowledge.

Though I had known of Greek, Roman and Norse mythologies since grade school, it was the resurgence of African culture in the late ‘70’s – early ‘80s that I first learned of African mythology.  The concept of Black deities, other than the age-old argument of the ethnicity of Christ in some churches, blew my mind. I knew if I got a tattoo an Ankh would have to be a part of it.   I placed it at the bottom because I knew I was Black before I knew I was Christian, so for me it’s the base of everything (including civilization depending on who you ask). The Om and the Taijitu as the last of the major faiths I learn were placed above the Cross simply to balance out the design.

Though some will claim that the Taijitu (the Yin Yang symbol), covers it, leaving out Paganism (generally represented by a Star Pentagram or Pentacle) was an oversight on my part, one I plan correct eventually for fairness. So I guess I get to “add-a-charm” after all, Q.

The design as I originally conceived it had each belief in red within a black circle, with the peace symbol in reverse colors.  Red drops (blood) emanate from the peace symbol piercing the black circle of each belief, turning each symbol red in turn. Unfortunately, I let the tattoo artist convince me that the red really wouldn’t show up well with my complexion and did the entire thing in black.  If I ever go back to have Paganism added, I plan to have red drops swirl around the black circles and through the peace sign. I chose it to run down my spine from the base of my neck (feeding the brain where I think) to just about the bottom of my rib cage (protecting the heart where I feel).  As our spine are to our bodies, our faiths, beliefs are to our souls.

Essentially, no matter what belief system surrounds us, at our cores we are still all one blood, it is the backbone of being human and we should all be able to live together in peace. It’s as complex and as simple as that.

There you have it – Religion according to Raivenne. (Queue John Lennon’s Imagine, except I’m leaving the faith in.)

Congregation dismissed.

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Theme Thursdays | Complexities

My Home

My home is slowly getting old…

Eclectic in a way that will never grace a magazine cover
It is a home that is lived in, a structure that has seen some years
Pock marks, and tiny fissures vein parts of the wall
I used to see it as fault, now I see the imperfections as character

My home is warm / inviting…

Not one for bright colors or pastels except as the occasional accent,
I have ever changing adornments of noirs, scarlet, indigoes, eggplants etc.
It is deep rich colors and jewel tones that I like best
To offset the warmth of my mocha walls

My home is full of sound…

The hiss when its steaming
The pop when the floor is stepped on the wrong way
The hum of music and conversation that surround me
Mostly externally, but sometimes it’s just in my head

My home is spiritual / sensual…

The Yin-Yang, Om, Cross, Peace, Magen David, Crescent, and Ankh thrive here
Cuisines Mediterranean, American, Caribbean, Asian, Vegan are served here
Children, friends, lovers and a husband, still do or once have lived here
And once invited to cross my threshold, you know that you are loved here

My home is not where I hang my hat, feed my face, lay my head…

It is in my body that I have lived in these soon to be fifty years, slowly getting old
It is in my heart deep within that I am slowly trying to let out again, warm / inviting
It is in my soul where I find my comforts for me and  my joy for others, full of sound
It is in my breath that compels to be alive and live for myself, spiritual / sensual

My home is…  me

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The Yin-Yang, Om, Cross, Peace sign, Magen David, Crescent and Ankh are in a  tattoo that runs along my spine from base of  my neck down, in that order.

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Meeting The Bar : Oh, the place we live!

In Love With A Guy – Well, Several Million

Have I mentioned how much I love I have for the human male species at the moment?

In the past few days I have witnessed, viewed or were directly told / know about…

Witnessed:

A friend and I were window shopping. As we were not in a particular rush, we strolled behind an elderly woman using a walker in front of us. A teenager, apparently not happy at the rate of speed we were moving, huffed and rushed around my friend and I to our left. However, the elderly woman decided to move to the left at the same time.  Somehow the teenager’s foot caught the leg of the walker effectively wrenching it from the woman’s hands and causing her to tumble forward. The only reason she did not fall flat on her face was because my friend and I both grabbed her at the same time, steadying her.  Still it was jarring for her. The teen mouthed off an obscenity as he just shy of threw the walker in our general direction and kept going.

I was about to call out something related to his upbringing, or rather the lack thereof when the teen suddenly dropped to the ground. I looked up and saw a very strong-arm extended straight out. The arm belonged to a gentleman, perhaps in his mid-30’s, who had clotheslined the teen. The man then grabbed the teen by the back of his coat and marched him back towards us. I never saw the man’s mouth move, or heard anything, but he clearly had said something to the teen between dropping him and lifting him. The elderly woman, my friend and I were near flabbergasted as the teen picked-up the walker, stood it properly in from of the elderly woman and apologized to all three of us, but especially the elderly woman. And where one would have expected him to be belligerent or at least sullen, he was actually contrite in his apology.  Once the gentleman let go of the teen’s collar, the teen made another quick apology and walked away. The gentleman gave us a short salute and a nod, which looked almost like tip of a hat, except he wore none and merely walked away without a word to us, not even acknowledging our effusive thanks.

I have no idea if the man and teen knew each other. It was a situation that could have become; really bad, really fast if the teen had chosen to fight. Instead we had a wonderful example that a) chivalry is not dead and b) that there is hope for the future, as at least some can be corrected of the error of their ways, at least in regard to manners.

Viewed on Facebook:

Several companies in an area share the local diner. After some time everyone gets to know the regulars even those that work for other companies. K, a person I am already proud to call a friend was shocked  when a fellow diner not only openly admits to watching child pornography that he “found”. There was no shame in his actions.  K’s co-workers were aghast, but not wanting to confront to issue were trying to exit out of the sickening conversation.   However there was soon regret when the scumbag begins to speak of the little girl in the found cache in terms that should never be used with a child and finds himself slammed into a wall with K’s fist drawn back, ready to deliver what I’m sure would have been one hell of a blow.  In a complete Murphy’s Law move, that would be the moment K’s boss spies the situation.

Long story-short: K still has a job and the police were called on Mr. Scumbag. As I commented on Facebook, we need so many more like K, who will not only be instantly enraged by such, but will take the perpetrator to task and actually Do Something.

Told / know about:

  • The love and kindness of two adult sons dealing with parents who are taking their final bows.
  • Three marriage proposals, two of them very creative (B, it was about time! G and J, well done guys, well done!)
  • One husband’s very enthusiastic reaction upon discovering he’s about to become a father. (So much awe E, so much awwww ♥.)
  • A, you know what and why, much props to you.

So with March, and thus Women’s History Month fast approaching, while we’re still in the month of love and I’m still in such a gregarious mood, I just want to give some love out to all my male friends in particular but spread some love out to the rest of you guys too.

Just try not to make me lose this feeling for you all before the week is out okay? 😉

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Slice of Life Weekly Story Challenge

Slice of Life Weekly Story Challenge

This Onion Reeks

I woke up this morning still disgusted.

Satirical news site The Onion is known for its quick quips and scathing, if generally tongue in cheek, mockery of current events. The joke officially crossed the line with Oscar nominee, Quvenzhané Wallis of Beasts of the Southern Wild, when someone at the site tweeted “Everyone else seems afraid to say it, but that Quvenzhané Wallis is kind of a c***, right?” (The tweeted version was not censored.)

Yes, the tweet was deleted within minutes of being posted. I’m sure it is because they quickly realized it was appalling on so many levels, but I am also guessing the immediate backlash of an outraged public displaying our collective disgust helped.

It is deplorable to no end that an adult had such a nasty thought about a child.  Let alone be so amused by the repugnance, as to tweet it out to the world.  The c-word as an adjective is by and far still considered one of the most vulgar words one can use against a woman. Yet someone at The Onion thought it was okay, in fact funny, to use such against a young child. How young? Nine years old, young; young enough to carry puppy themed purses to the all of the award events to which her talent has been acknowledged, young.

And on the biggest night of her young life, thus far, someone thought it was satirically brilliant to call her the c-word before the world.  I’m sure Wallis’ mother appreciated the astute, rapier-witted humor The Onion had for her child.

Not that any word picking on a child, especially on such a prestigious night, would have been acceptable, but why that word?  Why a word with such sexual connotations? Why against a child? And let’s just throw it out there, why against a Black child?  Because being an adult actress of color in Hollywood is such a cake walk as it is. Let’s give Quvenzhané something to look forward to as she pursues her career.

And As sexist and misogynist as many of Seth McFarland’s jokes were throughout the night, The Onion in one loutish tweet suddenly made him a class act. I will however quote him on one joke he got right regarding Quvenzhané Wallis “You’ll be at the future Oscars when the rest of us are dead.”

Yes, with talent like hers, she will be at many more Oscars and when she finally wins…?

Boy, oh boy, I cannot wait to hear her acceptance speech then!

Notions of Beauty

As an adolescent she’s told her looks are of a different class
Thus she finds herself staring hard in the looking glass
Not something she understands like ‘cute’ or ‘pretty’
Or even something as distinct like ‘siddity’
Just a tad too young to get the full meaning of erotic
But just old enough to know it’s not good to be exotic

Ferried every other Friday to the beautician’s chair
The only way to tame her long tightly woven hair
Suffers sleeping at night with a snug clothing pin
Shaping her nose so it’s straight and thin
Wooing her lips to sit just a tad inside
Knowing what they say about lips that are wide

Gone are the colorific beads that once adorned her hair
She’s older now and looks like that look cause stares
No batiks of blazing hues or other prints of ‘that’ fashion
More intents to belie the stereotypes of passion
Make sure her posture, like her diction is just so
Muddling through comparisons to a cookie we know

Walking ramrod straight without a rounded swerve
An attempt to camouflage of her natural curve
For decades she carefully toed that social standoff
Through the changing climes of wardrobe and coif
Never looking like ‘that’ was her personal pride
But conflicted as social and ethnic respect collide

But one perm too many turned it all about
Years of chemicals caused her hair to fall out
She tried extensions and other sorts of hair aids
She’s told leave it alone or more will fall out in spades
Her hair short and kinky, not since her childhood
She’s forced to face her definitions of what is good

Her childhood teachings, the well meant suggestions
Every single bit of it came into question
Resentful for feeling defensive of other’s disdain
Now that her looks no longer follow the ‘main’
Realizing she herself was once guilty of the same negation
That had nothing to do with her character or her education

It was a few years more to combine mentalities
Before she was comfortable with her new realities
Now she revels in her cultural prints and chains of jute
And she’s just as gregarious in her pinstripe suit
No longer concerned with how well she blended
Notions of beauty redefined, her spirit mended

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dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Poetics– The Art of Letting Go

Judge Not, Lest Ye…

Ulanda Williams, a social worker in New York City, fell into a hole when the sidewalk beneath her collapsed last week. Ms. Williams was waiting for a bus and sought shelter under an awning when it began to rain when the ground gave way seconds later. Not falling straight through to the cellar below, she wound up wedged in the hole instead, it took special FDNY equipment to pull her out. She was taken to a hospital and was released the next day.  Ms. Williams was extremely fortunate that her injuries were limited to a broken arm, cuts, scrapes and bruises.  Apparently EMS and FDNY concurred that a smaller person may have died from the drop. It is Ulanda’s size that likely saved her life.

And that (her size), as they say, is the rub.

Granted, in each article I’ve read, the news sources have taken care to mention that upon inspection it was determined by the NYC Department of Buildings that defective steel doors and a loose staircase were partially responsible for the four- by-six-foot slab of concrete’s collapse. However, that part of the story is almost seems a side-note to the main article. Why?

Because in each of the sources that I’ve read, the story was not that a woman nearly fell to her possible death due to a poorly maintained structure. The immediate focus for each of them was that the woman in question was nearly six and a half feet tall and weighed 400 pounds, according to the New York Post. Yes, Ms. Williams is in one word fat. Journalisms presumed penchant for being unbiased (yeah I know), went out the freaking window once her size was known. Don’t believe me?

Here is the lead-in line for the Huffington Post article? “Looks like she got her big break.”

The New York Post’s opening salvo? “Size does matter!

Oh, and my personal favorite, the first sentence from RoadRunner:  “Whoever says good things come in small packages hasn’t met Ulanda Williams. Williams, who is 32 years old and tips the scales at 400 pounds, claims she owes her life to her trailer-truck physique.

Oh, look they so funny! So why the hell am I not laughing?

Why is it when something happens to a person of size in the news it becomes all about the fat?

Even in their headlines, headers and web links, the view is already skewed to immediately blame the victim.

*Woman who fell through sidewalk says her ‘girth’ saved her

*http://www.nypost.com/p/news/local/manhattan/too_big_to_fall_Fz8VbWLT2tMkq9gvShHF0J

*Ulanda Williams, 400-lb Woman, Falls Through Sidewalk In New York City

I am not saying that her weight did not contribute to the incident.  My complaint is how the media specifically and the public at large focused mainly on her weight as the culprit. Fellow blogger and someone I’m lucky to call friend, TheNatural54 rightly notes that if this were two men of average size who had fallen, or even a tackle for the Jets or Giants football team (because we know tackles are rarely small guys), the focus would be more on the badly maintained property and not their weight.

I generally do not read the comments on such stories unless I just want to be pissed off and appalled at a bunch of strangers who are never worth the energy spent in the ensuing foul mood that will then color my day.  Unfortunately, because this story came to my attention from various fronts, I wound up reading quite a few comments and yes, I was pissed. From their view it seems the concrete collapsing would never have happened to someone of a smaller size and that just is not accurate. But for the sake of devil’s advocacy let’s just say it really was all about the poundage.  What is it about being over a very subjective number that a person is no longer considered worthy of basic decency and respect anyway?  The mocking bullshit tweeted by Rupert Murdock before issuing a not even half-assed retraction (because it damn sure was not an apology), notwithstanding – the general public is absolutely vicious and loves using the mask of the internet to spew its fat hating vitriol, especially fat women.

If it had been a smaller woman who fell there would be much sympathy for her and anger against the building owners/managers.  Ulanda Williams has cuts, scrapes, bruises and an arm broken in not just one, but two places from her ordeal, why does her weight not entitle her  to such?

Judge not, lest ye…

Start Somewhere

 I run my days in such haste
No one thought has time to land
Barely having time to care
I must start somewhere

A still pool of water calls
With a dare to simply glance
A tired me shimmers there
I must start somewhere

Natural needs pushed aside
My all to all but me
For the sake of my welfare
I must start somewhere

I free my mind of clutter
Donate a moment to peace
In awe find a moment spare
I will start with prayer

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Today’s Form:  The Kouta

Kouta – KOH-OU-TA (Japanese: little song) A broad classification for several varieties of short songs from traditional to popular which is most often associated with the songs made popular in the pleasure quarters of Edo (old Tokyo) where they were often composed and sung by geisha to the accompaniment of the shamisen.

Kouta has two forms, both four lines. The first has a syllable count of 7-5-7-5, and the other has a count of 7-7-7-5.

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight Week: 71

Query…

So, a friend posed an interesting query in one of my Facebook groups:

“So here’s the question. If you there was a button that you could push that would give you superpowers but would also permanently change you to the opposite gender – would you push it? Would it be a hard decision, whether your answer was yes or no? Or is it an obvious choice?”

My initial response was heartfelt No!  I enjoy being female in this modern-day and age.  For all the roads we have yet to travel equality wise etcetera, so many more have opened up for women just in the past hundred plus years alone it is a great time to be female.

But then I stopped thinking about me, and me being me, went and did what I always do and over thought the hell out of it in a generic sense.

In a transgender scenario, the flip to the opposite sex is obvious, having a superpower to boot is a bonus. This sex switch mostly becomes of interest for the cisgendered.

What of the woman who now has all the physical characteristics of a male, but her heart and soul would remain feminine?  If the new body build is proportionate to the original (a tall, fat male becomes a tall, fat female etc.), I’d say that is going to make the desire to wear a dainty dress interesting.  Is she in drag now?

Let’s go down to another level, sexuality.  A hetero male is now in a woman’s body. His sexual preference is still for females – you just know someone is going to ask if this now makes him a lesbian.  Yes, he can now teleport, but can he handle the perception of being gay?

And speaking of perceptions….

This is looking at it from the view of the person who chooses to push the button.  What of the married hetero female, who did not choose to switch and power up, who now has to deal with having a wife? What if they live somewhere that does not recognize gay marriage? Hell, what if the husband, in his new bodacious female body, is even prettier than she?  Trust me – some women are going to go there.

Oh, that rabbit hole is getting pretty damn deep there isn’t it, Alice?

Now let us swing that spot light from the generic back to specific -aka me- again.

Would I be willing to trade being a female to have the ability of flight, telepathy or telekinesis, shape-shifting or a myriad of other self-serving powers? Absolutely not.

However, what if with a push of that magical button I have the ability to heal?

  • With just a simple touch – the mangled body from a car crash – restored.
  • The baby born with a deformed heart – now whole.
  • Make that virulent cancer not just go into remission, but disappear as though it never existed.

I’m not a girly-girl. Never having to wear a dress (or bra), again would not hurt me in the least. I think I have strong masculine features in my face anyway, so other than a change of hair and not bothering with make-up would also be a bonus. My friends who know me well already say I think like a male in so many ways, personality-wise I do not think it be much different. And to top it all off, I do love my men and my women, so even sexually I’m still in a good place.  At this stage in my life, I may very well be one of the best candidates for that particular button pushing.

Were I still married and raising my children, I know I would likely turn it down without a second’s thought or regret. However, I am not married and my children are very much adults.

So if I can heal others, would the adjustments to my new body, both physiologically and psychologically, outweigh the greater good of all I can eventually help?

In all honesty, once again, I have to answer Absolutely not.

As the TV show would ask – What Would You Do?