Ethnic Folk on TV

Can I tell you that I have absolutely loved loved loved watching TV on Thursday nights. Something special happens on Thursdays. A latina female that doesn't look like a sex kitten comes on at 8pm. And after she abdicates her seat, a show about surgeons comes on, the show features prominent characters in many ethnicities. The focus of both of these shows are the people. Not their ethnic heritage, their racial struggles in the world, but the people. Not that these shows would shy away from these issues, its just that these shows recognize they are much more then the melanin in their complexions. They address how they view, experience and love the world. And I think its FANTASTIC.

I think that network executives have been so afraid to feature people of color in their shows. What happens if America doesn't tune in and they lose dollars? Well, In addition to being the best shows on TV, these two shows are the highest rated shows on TV. So my question is this, after the success of Ugly Betty and Grey's Anatomy, if network executives still don't look at casting shows by the best actor/actress but by the demographic that they think they should hit, what kind of rebellion should occur in the face of this blatant racism. I mean you have a solid case for featuring people of all heritages and you still oust them? I think that this racism is the most pervasive. Our children deserve to see people that look like them play surgeons, fashionistas and all sorts of three dimensional characters. Then they see what they can aspire too. When we don't do this, it sends a silent but deadly message, that only certain people count and/or make it. I think evening out this playing field will play a role in evening out the disparities/despair in our neighborhoods.

The Silver Platter

My cousin Jorge (wildly talented photographer and first person to ever give me a book), used to tell me "The harder you work, the luckier you get." I always found it to be true. I mean no one, no matter how cool just "gets" what they want. Their had to be an element of control to it in some way shape or form. But I'm starting to wonder how much that "no control" variable does play. As tired as I am right now, as hard as the week has been, as much work as I have had to put in, I feel like an incredibly lucky person.

In high school my friend Eric used to say that I was born with a silver platter. He said I just always seemed to get what I want. The grades I wanted, the people in my life, the opportunities, the acceptance to my favorite college. At the time, if truth be told, the joke bothered me a great deal. There was such a disparity between my economic brackett and the brackett my friends lived in, I felt my hard work shouldn't be chalked up to being born with luck. I thought it was being born with a work ethic.

Last night while at the program I work for, I was rushing around trying to get kids into vans, and two of my boys are sitting in the computer lab. I walk in and I say goodbye and I call them my two favorite huggers. Hugging, as you may already know is a premium with me, Jammo and Freddy are pros. They jump up and run over and give me a hug. They start to compete over who can give me the best hug. And then Freddy, says to Jammo "I'm sorry man, Karla is mine. She's my mom." haha. Now, the 16 year old boy as a species is known for many things. To this day, I don't think they have been noted for their affection and warmth. So you can see why it is even on a crappy week that I feel so lucky. How many people in the world get that? I seem to have repeated blessings of good people that just fill my life.

I've met my share of celebrities and politicians. I have to tell you though, they do not compare to the healers, changemakers, artists, comedians and musicians that I have come into contact with. At every stage of my life, new people in these categories come along and feed my heart. My students feed me like it was Thanksgiving. Even in the toughest of moments it seems like invisible hands will push me into the arms of more good people to get me through. No success I have had, matches up to the warmth I feel when I reflect on these people. So maybe they are the silver platter. Maybe it's tough but the people are the blessings and the opportunities come because I seek out the people. Just some thoughts to tide me over while I procrastinate.

What happens in Vegas...

I'm baaaaaaack. Well suffice to say If I heard that phrase one more time in the last week... well I would have thrown something. Vegas is the most interesting place. It really just draws a collection of people filling voids and daring themselves to be different. Between the half naked women and the ogling men, you know, its just one big sociological experiment of a city.

JUDGEMENTAL ALERT - The following entry is incredibly judgemental, forgive me, I just had to say it.

I am no slouch, but I am not an obviously beautiful woman. I am cute but by no means head turning. There are women in the world that are obviously beautiful. Not beautiful from an angle, or when you talk to them but the kind of girls that make a majority of guys say "damn, she fine" without knowing anything about her. I think this subset of the population is many times plagued with how to step out of using there beauty to get them things. After all, the world has taught them they can have whatever they want if they smile pretty and flirt. It gets to the point where these women genuinely have no idea what they are doing, they just use their blessed faces and bodies to get the only attention they know exists. My heart often hurts for these women, because as much as I hate being "mother, sister, friend" I am heard in such a different way. I would hate to not be heard and to always be paranoid that a guy is just out to sleep with me to validate himself. Most of all, I would hate to not know when I am using my body to get things and not my heart. These women are often disconnected to that piece and struggle with how to connect back.

I have had many friends in this category. The obviously pretty girls who struggle just as much as the rest of us with how they fit. I have seen as the society of womanhood pushes them out and resents them for the kind of attention they garner. I get it too, a lot of times you just don't know how much you can trust an obviously beautiful girl. It occurred to me this last weekend, while in Vegas (capital of the obviously pretty girl, in case you dudes were looking and didn't know) that I scare obviously beautiful women. Not all of them, I think there are some very strong OB girls. But I think I scare a good chunk. I came into contact with a few last week that got all twisty around me. See, I'm the kind of girl that gets increasingly prettier the more you are around her. And I think OB girls 8 times out of 10 go the other way. Just because they have never had to mind the hearts of other people. It made for an interesting Vegas experience if nothing else.

I'm done with my general obnoxiousness for now, I'll post more about the wedding later.

Single Shamed

So I am maid of honor at a wedding in about three weeks. This morning the bride calls me, one of my best most supportive friends in the world, and asks me the question dreaded by all single brides maids the world over "I need to know if you are going to bring a date". To which I replyed "Nah, we'll have lots of friends there." and then my friend proceeds to go "Niiiiiiiiña" in a voice that reminds me of my mother.

Now I know it's best of intentions. I know she just wants me to be happy. But why is it that the only time I ever truly pay attention to my singleness, its because someone else does. I mean don't get me wrong, if a super cool guy showed up and swept me off my feet... I'm down. Like any girl, the thought appeals to me and I would like it. But I am content in my own world.

I have dated and had a life, I just haven't had anyone that I would keep around to take to a wedding where they would meet all my family and friends. I mean really I have never brought a guy home, I also have never met a guy that I contemplated bringing home. I'm okay with that, it will come in its own time. It's a shame too, I look hot in my maid of honor gown. I'm having fun right now. But damn, Valentines and Weddings big reminders of current states of social conditions. haha.

ADDENDUM:

Just as a status update. I didn't go crazy and try and find a last minute date as I contemplated. I rebeled against the system and all was well. ;c)

Surfing and Acceptance

It's absolutely amazing how much a physical activity can teach you about yourself. I just came back from surfing for the very first time. I totally fell in love with it. It was just the most beautiful manifestation of how to deal with life I have experienced. Everything that I struggle with as a person, I struggle with on the board. I learned about myself today. It was DEEP. Something about the ocean is so soothing for me. Today was learning how to not try and beat it, the ocean is massive, it is strong, but allowing myself to flow through a wave is much more effective then trying to crash against it. I doubt I'll ever be able to live long term in a place without a large body of water. I really just so incredibly enjoy it. The feeling of letting it take me in the directions it chooses...

I know it's sounds dramatic ya'll but it's like communicating with God. Or at least how it should be communicating with God. You ask for the knowledge of your body to better know how you get carried through a wave. You ask not to defeat but to commune. You ask how do I let go of my instinct to conquer and pull from my instinct to just be. There was a point in time where I was asking for the peace to not criticize myself for not getting it because it didn't leave me the room to just flow and try again. When I actually started to learn how to get on my board was the moment I accepted that I did not have the upper body strength to get myself on and I needed to figure out how to allow the strength of the ocean and my legs to help me. My life has been this struggle. Accepting that I can't do it all but looking to and trusting that the world and God will take care of me. MAN. I am hooked.

I have never enjoyed something I am so God awful at so much. I love the learning in the process. After a while, even eating it and crashing into water was a joy. I laughed so hard. I smiled a lot. I screamed. It's hysterical for me that after years of dreading being in swimsuits, today akward and gangly floppin around everywhere, I felt beautiful. Yay for finding a
sport I enjoy working at... finally. Yay for weekend number two featuring water as a prominent character. Oh the archetypes. My senior year English teacher would be so proud. I hope your labor day weeknds are going as fabulously as mine. Enjoy.

Yo Home Skillit from VA!

So I have this sitemeter thing that tells me what parts of the world my blog is being read. It's pretty cool and I have to admit I've become a bit obsessive in checking it, Mostly people just come here to read the lyrics to the Kate Havenik song I posted a while back. That particular entry gets read by people LITERALLY all over the world.

I'm FASCINATED by the person who regularly reads my blog from Herndon, Virginia. Whoever you are, please tell me how you know me. If you are a random stranger I don't care. I would just really like to know. I've been racking my brain to figure out what Virginian I may know and I really can't come up with it. So please leave a comment, even an anonymous one. I'm dying to know. Give a girl a break.

Perfect

There are days that are so perfect. In those days I feel safe being so connected. I'm sitting here in an office waiting for a meeting but my brain is on a beach in Portland. I feel sand underneath my toes. I'm standing there watching 4 men who are just most the amazing people I know. They are splashing tackling each other and making me and another friend laugh on the shoreline. I'm getting picked up and thrown in the water. Salt water is rushing past me as I laugh. I'm catching my breath and diving towards my friends. Trying to tackle them as they have thrown me. We are laughing, screaming, taunting and splashing. One of them grabs my arm and swings me into the surf as I flail and make sure it's tough for him to let go. I bruise. I laugh. I feel beautiful in your estimation, but better then that, in my own. We head home in a van. We listen to the radio as the sunset. In our silence there is love. There is fear of tomorrow because today felt so good. I carry you friends. I just carry you with me. Today, lack of sleep and exhaustion do not diminish my glow. I carry your beauty. I walk confident in a world where you love me and I love you. And I praise the powers of beings greater then I ever imagined that they brought you to me.

The People I Love

It is 3am and I am hearing the snoring (and assorted other choice noises) of my friends. I am in Portland, Oregon. I have spent the last two days just valuing and being valued by a good group of people. My heart is full. And I can't sleep because the thought of going back makes my heart ache. errrrrrrrrrrrrrgh.I still have one more day. Why am I doing this now? Oh well. What can be done I suppose.

Kailicious and the Baby Burrito

Tonight I babysat Kai for about 7 hours. Now Kai is the six week old daughter of my ex-coworker and pseudo-big brother Mark. She, like he and his wife, is amazing. I mean absolutely fantastic. I was sitting there holding her and just fully in love. I wonder how you can love people who aren't your blood relatives so much. It was sad for me, driving away from them. The first and really only exemplary marriage I have ever known. The people who helped me believe that loves exists and that it can be a partnership and fun. I'm just sooo utterly grateful to them. And I'm happy for Kai. She is so lucky to have them as parents. Amy is a strong ass woman and Mark is this amazingly wonderful man. The odds are all in her favor. I love seeing how much they love her, how much patience they have with her and each other. Its really beautiful. I am going to miss having that beautifulness (is that a word?) in close proximity. I was watching Mark swaddle her tonight, wrapping her up tight like a baby burrito. The first of many times I know he will venture to make his girl feel safe and protected. It was just sweet. I know the kind of support he will offer her. I only wish more men were the kind of father Mark will be. I'll miss them. I've already spent 30 minutes being weepy and silly because of it. But what they showed me, I'll carry it with me forever.

Here are the lyrics to the song that reminds me of Mark and his Baby Burrito

Father and Daughter by Paul Simon



If you leap awake
In the mirror of a bad dream
And for a fraction of a second
You can't remember where you are
Just open your window
And follow your memory upstream
To the meadow in the mountain
Where we counted every falling star

I believe the light that shines on you
Will shine on you forever
And though I can't guarantee
There's nothing scary hiding under your bed
I’m gonna stand guard
Like a postcard of a Golden Retriever
And never leave till I leave you
With a sweet dream in your head

I'm gonna watch you shine
Gonna watch you grow
Gonna paint a sign
So you'll always know
As long as one and one is two
There could never be a father
Who loved his daughter more than I love you

Trust your intuition
It's just like going fishing
You cast your line
And hope you'll get a bite
But you don't need to waste your time
Worrying about the market place
Try to help the human race
Struggling to survive its harshest night

I'm gonna watch you shine
Gonna watch you grow
Gonna paint a sign
So you'll always know
As long as one and one is two
There could never be a father
Who loved his daughter more than I love you

I'm gonna watch you shine
Gonna watch you grow
Gonna paint a sign
So you'll always know
As long as one and one is two
There could never be a father
Who loved his daughter more than I love you

Singing

I've spent my morning/afternoon talking to friends and singing at the top of my lungs. Oh thank you Alicia for providing the material. It's been great release.

Tired

So I am a germ monster today. Hella sick. MY GOOD GOD. Why did I just realize yesterday that I have been working for the last six weeks straight. Which I assume to be why my body is rebeling. There just doesn't seem to be enough time. I wonder, is there too much too soon in your professional life?

Don't get me wrong, I feel totally capable of doing the tasks at hand. I know I wouldn't be happy if I wasn't challenging myself. But I just did about $2000 worth of accounting I've been procrastinating on, more when I add the other $2000 worth of checks. I am managing a budget that is pretty close to $700,000. I sat there for a second tonight and had this overwhelming feeling of just tired. I can't believe they let me do this stuff. They trust me with this, and I am trustworthy. But damn, most the other 25 year olds I know are not managing this. Everyone else seems to be having a lot more time for fun. They don't carry the kind of weight that I feel like I carry. I guess the next best question is, am I self-imposing the weight?

Truth be told, I have no idea. But I want some time for my own brain. I have a trip scheduled to Portland for next week. I'm visiting with some friends and WILING OUT! I really can't wait. I have been everyone's role model for just a little too long. My brain is flippin and all it wants in the world is to stop. I wonder about my pace and am I cut out for this, and then, even if I am, do I want to be? Will I have a really successful professional life at the sacrifice of being young?

I will step out of the victim place tomorrow, I swear. Tonight, I wanna be a kid. I wanna be a kid not in charge of 150 some odd lives. I want to sleep and not think. I want to fully immerse myself in a crush that is healthy for me and not worry about the time I'm "wasting".

Gizmos and Gremlins

It's funny how there are times when you go long time periods without writing, even if there is something to write about. Then randomly you will want to write and you pretty much have nothing to say. That's kinda the boring spot I have put you in today. I am just sitting here in my robe, mentally prepping for my second workshop in a row. I just wanted to ramble. You are under no obligation to read. My last workshop was a huge learning experience (I guess they all are). I had 28 boys (I know I keep saying this, but damn, it did mean something to me), 4 alumni that I had rap directed, and lots of other little fun factors.

When I say learning experience, I just mean, it allowed me to observe the way I have come into contact with the world. As much as I have tried to let the feeling go, I really believed that I blew last years certification. I mean I walked away feeling like the most awful person for even stepping into that workshop. I questioned how irresponsible of me it was to walk into a workshop recovering from an assault that had happened only a week prior. I didn't think I did what was in my capacity to do. Never recognizing that different capacity comes with different trauma and experiences.

Let me tell you about Jo. That workshop, I had this fiery, angry, cuss you out in the hallway if you look at her the wrong way, girl. And I loved her, I loved her immediately. From the beginning I could see the capacity of her heart. I just knew she had been hurt so many times that she bites as a reflex by that point, not a defense mechanism. And over the course of the workshop I wondered how far she had internalized the lessons.

Then I saw her this last weekend. This tiny, spunky, loving girl. She threw her arms around me and hugged me in the airport. And as I tried to recover from the shock I sat an watched as she and 3 past students of mine showed me how they had discovered the world through the year. She was changed. She had opened her heart a little more, let herself share and feel more. She is also going to be a student at Cal State Fullerton. All facts that delighted me to no end. I really laid into her anyhow, because really, I know her capacity, and this girl can be a superstar. In the end, I feel like she had more tools to find peace and was looking forward to a world that didn't have to genuflect whenever her parents commanded it. I was proud of her.

Your inner critic can be so strong. I mean, how is it that you can not even see the very things happening in front of you. It blows my mind. We can completely process things so skewed from reality. All because of the little voice in our heads that tells us we aren't enough. I mean that voice is tricky, it is forever altering its methods to really get at you. And it can change your entire perception. I saw that critic pop-up this last weekend. Instead of battling with it, I think I just kinda invited it to sit down. Put up with what it said and talked myself down. haha. I know I sound like a nutjob right now, but I hope some of you understand. It just takes so long to make peace with that critic. It's like a freakin gremlin. And not in the cute gizmo state, in the icky conniving green state. I think I should name mine. Any suggestions?

To all of you battling the gremlins I commend you, don't put water on them or feed them after midnight. ;c)

Survivors Celebration

It had been a second since my last post, I've just had so much runnin in my brain, I'm not quite sure I was ready to write any of it down. This week is coming to a close and a few big things had happned that I would like to put out into the world.

So this Saturday is the one year anniversary of the assault. I'm mad trippin that it has already been a year. No joke, this one event rocked my entire perspective on the world. It took me out of my feeling of relative safety and security and launched me into something I can only define as a learning experience...

So I started to write this out before my survivors celebration but really its almost two weeks later now. haha. I still wanted however, to complete the entry.

I have to tell you, I had a lot of anxiety getting closer to the day, but that night was one of the very best nights I have had in a very long time. It's amazing the kind of space you open in your professional world that you just don't open in your personal world. The requests that I am willing to make of a co-worker but not of a friend.

So I sat them down, those closest to me, told them how much they meant to me. We ate dinner, drank and really celebrated the prescence of each other in each others lives. It was so special. Between the potluck and laughing to the appreciation circle and tears. It was just a phenomenal experience. The true manifestation of the power of my friends. To watch them as they appreciated each other was such a priviledge.

I'm so proud of myself for flipping the meaning of that day. Every year, it will be a celebration of life and not a moratorium on the day I started to look at the world differently. That was important to me. How I look at the world is important to me. As jaded as I may get, I want to know I can still see its beauty and appreciate the places where it makes my heart lift.

Whoremones

You know its bad when you have so much hormonal energy running through your body that you can't tell whether you have chemistry with someone or if you just want to touch somebody. I met this nice guy today at a conference and you know nice does it for me. Nice for some reason is to me what a nice butt is for other women. Well a good pair of hands too, but that is neither here nor there. During the Young Non-Profit professionals happy hour after the event we had a bit of time to chat. We were having a perfectly nice conversation about how boys are not succeeding in the school system and in my head I kept thinking, hmmm, I want to bite his lip. It was ridiculous. I am ridiculous. I'm fired. I should not be allowed outdoors. Worse yet, I don't hit on people because I have NO game. I just sit there having the conversations I'm good at having. I was in my work element too, which is an easy one for me to grab and latch on to. It's where I know I have competency. Life skills, banter, eye batting and the like... not so much. Bah hum bug. Let us all pray for my current inability to create for myself a social life. The situation is not as bleek as I make it out to be, that is dramatic exaggeration for blog's sake. However, I am amused with myself. Even more amused when a friend tells me he thinks the guy might have been gay (although, this particular friend thinks all men are gay, I believe that is his hope). So who knows.

I-TAL-IA

I have to admit, after the first half, I was worried. I knew Italy would win but I was a little worried because they looked just a little tired. But they held strong. They were the FINE ass men I knew them to be. Goodness gracious. Sports are some shit boy, the sheer exhiliration you can feel watching a group of men that you have no affiliation with, playing for a country that you have no ties to, against a country you have no grudge against. Yet there I was at 9:30 this morning at a bar in Little Italy, saving myself a seat for an 11 o'clock game. And there I sat til 1:30 when the team that I came to cheer on triumphed. I mean to be real, losing on penalty kicks must suck for France. I mean it's one of those anybodies game situations. But dear God, was I ever happy with the outcome. My love, Camoranesi, in all his long haired beautiful Italian glory had a great assist for their first goal. I mean looking at the man's thighs has been my favorite part of the tournament.



Oh World Cup, how I'll miss you. I will see you again in four years. Thanks for the cheers, laughs and beers that accompanied you.

To my azurri, MUAH!


And to this hot headed dumb ass...



THANK YOU

Grace by Kate Havenik

Sometimes songs just make you sigh...

Lyrics to Grace by Kate Havenik

I'm on my knees
only memories
are left for me to hold

Dont know how
but Ill get by
Slowly pull myself together

Theres no escape
So keep me safe
This feels so unreal

Nothing comes easily
Fill this empty space
Nothing is like it seems
Turn my grief to grace

I feel the cold
Loneliness unfold
Like from another world

Come what may
I wont fade away
But I know I might change

Nothing comes easily
Fill this empty space
Nothing is like it was
Turn my grief to grace

Nothing comes easily
Where do I begin?
Nothing can bring me peace
Ive lost everything
I just want to feel your embrace

SAFE

What exactly constitutes safe? The importance of it is ridiculous. I think thats why hugs feel so good. When someone is hugging you, you feel like you are just engulfed. For that moment, nothing can happen to you. Your are protected, loved, cared for and safe.

My first recollection of that feeling was in the first grade. My mom was dropping me off at school. I had to go get in line and wait for the teacher. I used to hate that moment. The one before I left my mom in the mornings. I was pretty much the dork/nerdy/unaccepted kid until I had full command of my accent years later. I remember it was a pretty brisk but bright morning. The big bad world waiting to teach me lessons about childhood and cruelty on one side, my mom and her warmth on the other, with a chain link fence straddling the middle. I would feel tears start to well in my eyes but even at 7 I knew how much it hurt my mom to see me hurt, so I kept my mouth shut. Then two large arms wrapping fully and lovingly around my small body. The hugs lasted forever. I felt so wonderful and solid in those moments. It was almost painful to let go.

17 years later, I'm a big hugger. Usually when people meet me I'll offer the akward "oh you're a hugger!" hug. You see I feel like the most doubtful person still wants it. They want to be embraced. They fear what its like to receive love like that and the emotions that get stirred in them when they do. But I offer it because at base, we all want to feel that acceptance. No matter what our scarred brains and hearts do to us after. I like giving it. I like receiving it. I think its healthy.

I write about all this because I'm delaying writing about last night. I went out to Blondies again and I knew full well that cute boy from last week would not be my dance partner again. However, the sketchness of the people was argh-worthy. I was denying sketchy men dances and saying the word no, more then is ever really comfortable in one night. I found myself feeling unsafe. Wanting so bad for my mom or someone (preferrably bigger and manly) to give me a hug and encourage the rest of the sketch-masters to go away. But I don't have anyone big and manly here, I don't have my mom here either. Then the flashbacks started. The flashbacks aren't necessarily a surprise. I mean I have them pretty frequently. More then anyone would know. I usually am able to bring myself back to where I am. Tell myself that I am safe. Encourage myself to move past it. But last night when I popped myself out of the flashbacks, I wasn't safe. I had men around me who would not take no for an answer. A situation which was unbelievably traumatizing for me just one year ago. I folded. I mean I totally caved into myself. I started strong saying no, putting my hand in their faces, pushing them away but before I knew it I just was unable to move.

Bola asked me if I was okay, I said no, I said I needed to go. She grabbed my hand and pulled me out, Bern and Bibi close behind us. I proceeded to shut myself down and when on the comfort of my couch, I fell apart. I wanted so bad to feel safe. It's crazy how you can feel unsafe in your own brain. But there I was on my couch, feeling unsafe in my brain and wanting to have my mom's arms wrapped around me. I know in a very logical part of my brain that I shouldn't feel like an asshole for last night. Just like I know I shouldn't feel like an asshole for other decisions I am starting to make for myself. But it's hard. How do you learn the difference between self-care giver and asshole/flake? I don't know right now. I just want safe. The last time I feel like I knew without a shadow of a doubt what that was, I was a kid.

Exhaustion... the other white meat

So I am totally, completely and WHOLLY tired. I worked on Monday, have been at the office by 6am Wed and Thurs. And really I am freakin in need of a beer or 6. Don't get me wrong, it has been a great start to my summer program. It's been fabulous. The kids are fantastic and today, I saw fruition of a lot of hard work. But DAAAAAAAAMN am I tired. To top it all of the estrogen monster seems to be popping up and manisfesting in the worst of ways. I had to step into a bathroom today just to cry. Ridiculous and girly but I felt so emotional at that moment and didn't really want comfort. Just release. I have no idea whether the instensity of the emotion came because of who I am or because of the fluctuating hormone levels in my body near this time of the month. haha. I laugh but in that moment. It was not pretty. I mean have you ever seen ugly crying? Well I do FUGLY crying in private. It has been the week for these and many other exploits. I am currently sitting around in a top that bears more of my upper body then it should dreading the arrival of friends, who though spririted and well intentioned, I would rather have leave me to some restful sleep. I feel like I should be more up for this. Last Friday was pretty fruitful when we went out. I danced with a cute boy. And really if there were ever a time in my life when I could use a pair of male hands... it is now. I just want to feel at ease and at peace and I haven't felt that. The kids stories this week were heavy. Their pain was palpable for me. As much as I care for the newbies, ingesting an entire new set of stories and hugging new pain just feels so... tough. Have you ever read the book, "The Giver" by Lois Lowry. The emotional weight described in that book, combined with the exhaustion of a marathon runner, coupled with my hormonal influx just has me spent. I know, whine, whine, whine. ::sigh:: Maybe tomorrow I'll be more insightful.

Happy "Independence" Day!

When I was a kid and I saw the American flag, I have to be honest, I felt an immense amount of pride. I really truly believed in the ideals of the independent, democratic society that were painted in my history books. I knew the Star Spangled banner, I sang it at the kickoff of the soccer season for the soccer league when I was 10. AND it meant something to me. I felt American.

Even when I was in middle school and my older cousins used to tease me that I was the youngest socialist they had met (they were/are republicans) I still believed in the power of our system for change. I hated the disparities and at 12 I had already been exp[osed to so many of them. BUT, I believed. And really, inspiration when looking at a flag is a powerful thing. It is an iconography that can have massive impact. We on the west coast I think have detached from it but it is still true for many people in this country.

Then I transferred from Pomona schools to Walnut High School my freshman year and my perspective on the world I inhabited changed. All of a sudden I was getting an education and not struggling to listen to a teacher. I realized my grammar was shit and being the "good" kid no longer got me the great grades. I came to see that the world I inhabited didn't see me as American... no matter how I saw myself. I was one of few kids with a complicated last name in any of my classes. I remember the pause before trying to execute a butchering of this last name and being certain that the next sounds to exit a teachers mouth were about me. I remember the snickering when I tried to explain what my primary education had been like. And I remember the day that I went into try out as a graduation speaker with a fire and brim stone speech about giving back to the community since our high school community had given us so much. I can see in my brain the complete lack of understanding in the faces of the teachers I was presenting to. I can see there pity.

It was during this transition in my life that I really saw that the world was truly not equal for all. It was a bunch of people who wanted it to be equal, but had no frame of reference for what that looked like or what kind of understanding, empowerment, sacrifice and knowledge that took. Overall, I think a good chunk of our country would like to live in its ignorance. It's just easier that way. Sad to say but we really are a "Brave New World" up in the sheezy.

I write this because as of late, seeing the American flag causes an agitation for me. When I see it, I think hypocrisy. It doesn't inspire me anymore. As naive as this sounds, that saddens me. I'm such a passionate person, about the small and large things, and that passion used to extend to believing in our system. I don't know if there was one moment that took that from me or a collection of pieces. I was talking to someone recently about what Franco did to Spain. The absolute mind fuck that he played on the country. Marginalizing it's peices of non-homogenity so that they felt like they weren't Spanish. Spain's turmoil, 40 years after Franco, still exists in getting those people to believe they are a part of the whole. Then it dawned on me, that the United States is in much the same scenario. It's trickier though, there is not one moment or one isolated figure that did it. It's a collection of "I'm better then you" mo fo's that got us to this place.

Intrestingly enough, though I do not naively believe in its systems anymore, I strongly still believe in its people. I have watched individuals create extraordinary change. With an idea, not even an action but an idea, people will revolutionize the world around them. This continues to be a source of hope for me. At some point all of us were fed an ideal, however hollow, about what we are supposed to be, and from that we go and seek ways to effect the world with our gifts. I mean really selfishly, americanly, we go out and do what we want to do. And this is why we rock.

So it's the 4th of July, time for beer, fireworks and family (in whatever incarnation we choose). And I sit here early in the morning, having woken up with a genuine want to see our iconography line up with our people. I sit here pissed off at the many who took away from me the sense of pride I had when I looked at that flag. I wish you knew the world better, then you would see that I am as American of a dream as it gets. And there are tons of me everywhere, but you are too busy making money off of violating the planet and its people to pay attention. Cheers to the people who continue to bring me inspiration and create room in my heart to be a fighter for the things I believe in. Thank you ya'll cause I believe in you; in your many talents, dreams, wants, desires and wishes. Happy mother freakin fourth of July.

Pay Cash If You're Gonna Be A Skanky Ho

So I've been working all day doing different odds and ends, I figured I would blog and take a little mental break. To explain my catchy blog title... when I was in college a friend of mine, Courtney, and I were watching the movie "The Good Girl". In it Jennifer Aniston's character gets caught having an affair on sad John C. Reilly because she was using the family credit card to purchase her hotel rooms. Aghast at the development Courtney and I started yelling expletives at the TV. One of the phrases Courtney uttered (the brilliance of it all) was "OH MY GOSH! Pay cash if you are going to be a skanky ho!" haha. Thinking about that afternoon still cracks me up. However, after that afternoon, this phrase came to be a catch phrase we would use in regards to men. Sex was such a taboo subject among our particular group of friends (so catholic our boys, so in the closet). When the girls got together we would talk with a little more raunch, rightly so, and we claimed and proclaimed that there was no need to be ashamed of our sexual wants and needs as long as we were always up front about them. It's only embarassing if you make it embarassing and such. Thus pay cash if you are gonna be a skanky ho.

That's what brings me to this post. I have long believed that a womans sense of sexual freedom really comes from a strong group of open non-juedgemental female friends. As a girl, they let you know it's okay to want what you want, experiment with what you experiment with, lust over what you lust over. Earlier in the week I was hanging out at a friends apartment talking about the art of self-satisfaction and I was so amused at the freedom with which we spoke. haha, very ya-ya sisterhood. Then last night, I was sitting with two other women (marginally older then me) having a funny conversation about sex and realized that no matter how old we get, we always seek for permission from our girls. You don't want to feel like a skanky ho, and as much as you tell yourself you aren't, until your girlfriends say it... part of you worries. At least for us Catholics. haha. Sex and the City paradigms aside, there is always the one of you who is most confident that women are allowed to have needs (and she needn't be the lapooning maneater), there is the one emerging from prudishness and then all the women that fall in between. The spectrum however, is incredibly facinating. I would go into greater detail, but really, there are some female conversations that you have to respect as sacred. You are blessed as a woman to be a part of long standing tradition and you just don't violate that.

Maybe I bring this up because I danced with a boy this week that wasn't on the pre-approved list for the first time since the assault. The pre-approved list is gay guys, guys I know or guys that are friends with people I know. It was huge for me. The guy came up with another friend, one asked Bern to dance and he asked me. I proceeded to dance with him for the rest of the night. It was fun being a girl. I know that sounds cheese but it was ( I should rethink my blog name and change it to something like Cheesehead Ramblings). I had a few fight or flight moments but mentally I soothed myself told myself he wasn't going to hurt me and reminded myself it was okay to have a man want me. haha. Because he did. I didn't kiss him or hook up or anything. Even though he tried. I just danced. It was all that I was ready for. But it was enough for me to claim back another peice of me. The dude didn't ask for my number but it is highly likely that I will see him again. Emails were exchanged between my friend and his friend. So who knows. Little by little.

In any event, my pursuit to reclaim my body and the safety it feels around it continues. I just have to allow myself to make even bolder and more fun moves. After all "Pay Cash If You're Gonna Be A Skanky Ho," only works as a motto if you really are forking something over for yourself. And not necessarily your body, your vulnerablity is important to hang out there once in awhile too. My fortress of walls may just let that happen one day. But until the drawbridge goes down... =c)