Friday, September 30, 2005

The Bay Area

I've lived here almost ten years, since 1996 when I went to Mills for my undergrad. I love the bay area...I always have. After living in southern California for so long there was a wildness to the north that the south lacked, with it's concrete, smoggy flatness. But there are some things about it that really really irritate me.

While I'll miss watching the dry brown foliage transform into lush greenery during the rainy season there are some things I can do without. For instance, walking through popular Bay Area establishments like Whole Foods or Trader Joe's can be perilous to your health, or at the very least your toes and soft tissue. The parking lots themselves are deathtraps. Which leads me to a tangent. Pedestrians. When I went to Paris, pedestrians ran across the street at the sight of an oncoming car. They knew that if they didn't move, they would be mowed down. But here, it's not uncommon for someone to wait by the stoplight, pause, then walk into the crosswalk when the light turns green for oncoming traffic and have the nerve to stop mid section and give you a don't you dare look.

Back to the store...I don't know how many times I've stood in an aisle and attempted to get around carts set in the middle of the aisle, people shoving their way to the produce, stepping on toes, or just gossiping in the middle of a main walkway. There is no sense of personal space much less common courtesy to say "Excuse me" or "Sorry, just need to get by." Whatever happened to saying excuse me when you have to walk in front of something or am I just showing my age?

Personal space seems to be a thing of the past. When my boyfriend and I attended a Yerba Buena concert at The Elbo Room a woman started drumming on his back. Literally. Like she knew him. I was astounded, he was pissed, and she, with her drunk happy ass, was indignant that he told her to stop or pay the consequences. She did. After doing it again that is. I won't bore you with the exchange that followed.

However, I do love the casual Bay Area style, I'm going to miss it alot. Especially considering I have almost zero dress sense aside from khakis, basic slacks and oxfords. Well, almost next nothing when I walk into Berkeley or Santa Cruz and see what the masses are wearing. Or not wearing. I'll miss the ocean but not the earthquakes. I'll miss the temperate seasons (yes, we actually do have seasons). I'll miss Oakland but not Danville, San Ramon or Pleasanton (that's a whole other post). Oh yes, I musn't forget Peets...Peets over Starbucks anytime.

Thursday, September 29, 2005

Greyhound & Homeland Security

And so it begins. Oops, I mean continues. Greyhound employees are now at risk for being fired for selling bus tickets to undocumented immigrants. Are there telltale signs? Anyone know? I mean wouldn't that step on some civil liberties to detain someone who a Greyhound official happens to think the passenger may have a slight resemblance to undocumented immigrants? Other than the ones we have at our borders saying go away or you'll be shot or left out to die in the desert? Forget opposing the rise of fascism ladies and gentlemen, we're already there. I'm not even going to say our administration because I didn't vote for it but it seems the U.S. government is working overtime trying to restrict the mobility of particular racial groups. Are there security issues all around via train, bus, air, truck? Yes...but this isn't the way to fix it.

Well, screw the civil liberties I suppose. It's not like the U.S. hasn't done it before. Perhaps one should look up the Mexican labor immigration movements during the Great Depression and the resulting forced repatriation program that followed when they were blamed for the large numbers of white unemployed workers, particularly in the West and Southwest. Altogether, 400,000 were estimated to be "repatriated," possibly 60% of those children who were born in the U.S. Many were sent back by train in boxcars. But this is probably one of those little blips in history that William Bennett wouldn't want any institutions of higher education to cover. There's a reason why he and those like him don't want "multicultural" curriculums taught in schools.

Way to roll out the welcome mat. If they were say, fairer of skin, hair and eyes do I think the general reception would be the same? No. But I could always be wrong.

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

William Bennett, Black Babies and Abortion

Is it just me or is this utterly ridiculous? I have seen posts up and down the net saying that it was taken out of context and that he wasn't actually suggesting what he said...Okay...so please explain...in detail, with the large perspective given Bennett's background. I'm sorry but he said it, did he not?

But then again, this is the same man who suggested that it would be "morally plausible" to behead drug dealers, having been the first appointed "drug czar" by Bush, the first one. I suppose I shouldn't expect less from one of the Reagan/Bush eras. Oh yes, his other high points were conservative viewpoints on restricting college education to "Western Culture" and ridiculing multicultural curriculum. GASP! CHOKE! God forbid black children learn about something beyond Washington, Jefferson and Lincoln.

Why don't we just reintroduce the eugenics movement...I mean, one that is actually not covert. Let's not discuss how in the 70's, an estimated 30% of all Puerto Rican women and 25-40% of American Indian women suffered forced sterilizations, without their consent.

Sunday, September 25, 2005

Some sun and a friend


Some sun and a friend
Originally uploaded by adrian33.

For Joshua, who is now in Veles, Macedonia in the service of the Peace Corps...He took this picture while in Japan. He'll be gone for two years, returning in December of 2007. He is in my heart.

I hope to post more pictures of his. Growing up he was always doodling and creating little cartoon characters in notebooks and such. Now, it seems he has a blossoming talent for photography. He said he'll take advantage of the photo opportunities while he's gone. He's even had people offer to buy work but he declined...he's an interesting and unique soul. I miss him already and can't wait for his own blog to be up and running.

Saturday, September 24, 2005

Being a PK

I am a preacher's daughter...a PK would be another shortened term for the position. I know, I choose the word position like it's a job which isn't far from the truth. There were times growing up when I couldn't stand going to church, when I had to put the mask on of being polite and courteous and just generally happy to be there. Up until college the rule was skirts and dresses only. No slacks. Once I started going to college though that rule was thrown out the window. I didn't believe, and I still refuse to believe, that God sees it as a personal affront if my ankles/calves, whatever, are visible in church.

There was the personal and private side of my family as I alluded to above. The phone rang at odd hours in spite of having a parsonage line and a private line put in. I would be sent out with my siblings sometimes for groceries because dad didn't want to be recognized and have to hobnob in the frozen foods aisle. Can't say I blame him but dammit, neither did I. My prayer life, although strangely lax given my family, was healthy, at least I thought so. I have always felt in some way, shape, or form that I am being looked out for. I felt that was overridden though by the image a preacher's daughter was supposed to project. What was I supposed to know, what was I supposed to say? What should I have known or said? The spotlight, in a word, sucked. My siblings and I described this sensation of the spotlight in one phrase, something we took during the golden years of the L.A. Lakers reign on basketball...It's Showtime.

During my relatively short life, whenever people find out I'm a preacher's kid they get this look on their face, something to the effect of "Oh, that explains a lot." Or they might even say it aloud. I used to be surprised by the outburst but in some way, I take the remarks as a point of pride, war wounds of some sort. When I meet other PK's, we compare stories, share scars and ultimately walk away, almost as if the old rules of secrecy and confinement still apply even though we're adults now. We come together for a short moment and laugh and giggle at similar tales of church embarrassment, parishioner confrontations and then pull away like that short sharing of intimacy of similar backgrounds violated the old rules...private versus public, keep it in-house. It's nice while it lasts and reminds me that I'm not the only one, not crazy, and that I certainly don't have a monopoly on angst growing up as a PK.


"A preacher'’s daughter is supposed to wear dresses to service every Sunday, to be polite, warm, courteous, inviting, accommodating, non-intrusive, available, and in some ways, invisible. She should be calm, serene, with just the right amount of charm and wit to put others at ease in the midst of her own unease. She should be single, preferably; have good grades, a solid circle of friends; and no visible character defects. If she is of color then she must be doubly polite, warm, courteous, inviting, accommodating, non intrusive, available and invisible, according to the needs of whomever is directing her; dresses are imperative to her appearance as is a proper ladylike form and demeanor. "

Friday, September 23, 2005

Late Bloomers

I had a discussion with Corey recently where he referred to us both as "late bloomers." I can't disagree with that. I got my B.A. later than most traditional aged students and just recently earned my M.F.A.

I was engaged to a man for four years. I was young, he was much older. After one postponement and the final cancellation, I left. The relationship was a disaster. Make no mistake, I chose to be there and got something out of it aside from chronic heartburn, acid reflux and gallbladder surgery. He was a classic narcissist and quite comfortable with the way things were. He didn't want me and everything I could offer, he wanted a trophy wife, someone unique, exotic to be paraded out for company functions. And I wasn't ready to show up with everything I had to offer. When I first moved there, a suburb outside of Oakland, I thought in some twisted way that I would find the stability there that I felt I lacked growing up. Was there stability? Yes. But it was the kind that restricted, restrained, suppressed any kind of movement, growth or change. To struggle against that suppression was difficult to say the least. Especially when some of it was self induced. Rage inducing for all involved including the two kids who were present every other week; their mother living just down the street. I couldn't stand the daughter, she was seventeen when I left and it wasn't completely her fault that she was the way she was. But more than that, I couldn't stand the man I had almost married and in some sense, myself for feeling like I had used and allowed myself to be used. They were a white family who only left the confines of Danville if they were going to the theater in the city. After that relationship, I thought I wouldn't want kids, that being a stepparent to the daughter had ruined it all for me. In a weird way though, I wouldn't be the person I am today without those experiences, those emotions, that RAGE. More on this later...stepparenting and the details of that relationship is another post.

At thirty-two though, I feel my biological clock ticking, most of the time it's on mute, other times I feel like Captain Hook with the croc coming after me, the loud tick tick TICKING stalking me. But that's just another part of myself I'm making peace with. My sister who is three years younger was recently married and now has a beautiful 5 month old daughter. I covet my niece, my sister's wedding band...I don't want the sameness of her life because it's just not me, never will be. But there is a part of me that, as has been noticed, gets a daily fix of babies by looking at pictures of my niece, friends' family photos, wedding pictures. It's not something that I long for or yearn for, it's not something I feel is lacking in my life. I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing in my own way, my own time. But I want it.

As for marriage, I want that too. But again, in our own way, our own time. I no longer get the question from relatives "So, when are you getting married?" Now it's "So, when are you two finally going to be back together?" We've been doing a long distance relationship since January and I think most people would say that without a doubt it sucks. In some ways, it most certainly does. But, I feel stronger, I know more about myself, I try to be completely present in my day and although I'm not always successful, I have to say it's been a good year. I've heard from several people that weddings are more for the families than for the couple. I don't want that. Don't get me wrong, I want my family to be a witness to it but it's a conscious deliberate choice between two people, including how, when and where. I don't think that should change because the families want a say in if it's a sit down dinner, buffet or cocktails....maybe I'm being harsh or selfish, but I don't think so. And given the day, I think I can be.

With that said, my apartment is a mess and I must make some kind of attempt to clean. I'm beginning to offend myself.

Thursday, September 22, 2005

Ganesha, Remover of Obstacles


Ganesha, Remover of Obstacles
Originally uploaded by judywatt.

Bringer of Prosperity...seen and unseen...

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Being Poor...

I found this post after it was referred to on several MSNBC blogger sites. Many of them were posting in response to some half wits' view (thank you Mrs. Bush) that the evacuees from Hurricane Katrina should be grateful considering they didn't have much to begin with, if anything at all and that they (the black people in case people don't want to read between the lines) don't want to work, don't want to make a livable wage, don't want to educate their children, etc., etc., etc.

Interestingly enough, almost every article where an evacuee is interviewed I find that they all say the same damn thing...they can't wait to get back to work. To Work. So for everyone out there who thinks that people choose to live below the poverty line, to not have an education, to not have a job....Well, I would encourage you to attempt to look at the larger perspective...The title link above may help...or it may not.

Monday, September 19, 2005

Cheers...Off to Macedonia with you...

Here is to my baby brother who will soon be departing for a two year run with the Peace Corps in Macedonia. I am concerned of course. Naturally. I want him to stay healthy and happy and safe. He spent three years in Japan, two of which were in a rural part of the country and while his experiences were positive overall, I do worry about how he will be treated, perceived, embraced as a 6'7 black man from the states. Particularly since we're not very popular right now and frankly, deservedly so.

He starts his orientation on the 26th. With that said, he's a grown ass man, I know he can and will take care of himself. But I'll still send him care packages.

On another note, not completely unrelated, the news story about the possibility of opening up the Peace Corps to the military is well, rather disturbing and given the present administration's arrogance, rather naive as well. So possibly instead of foreign countries just having to worry about folks in uniform or Blackwater mercenaries, they can worry about if their Peace Corps volunteer is a CIA spook too.

Just lovely.

Saturday, September 17, 2005

Oh Nina...

There is nothing like listening to Nina Simone singing In The Dark...nothing. The longing and love in her voice, good god help me. I recently heard some of the clips from the Broken Flowers soundtrack, three songs by an Ethiopian jazz musician by the name of Mulatu Astatke...and let me tell you that bass line he lays down has a hold upon my soul. I've been able to find one album with his music, a compilation which in itself is ridiculous. The man has been around at least since the 50's and that's all there is???

It's dark here now and I'm trying to get rid of a headache that's been whispering away behind my eyes. Time for some deep breathing, a serious massage and some intensive yoga. I'm sure it's a tension headache. Sigh....and there she goes with Do I Move You?...Damn that woman could sing and write....

I'm working a late shift tonight due to lack of staffing and no one else wants to do it...aside from not getting a lot of sleep it's extra cash...whenever I travel or come in to work I always carry a little stone with me that says "Dream" on it...something I seem to be able to do easily enough.

Friday, September 16, 2005

Grand Lake Theater


Grand Lake Theater
Originally uploaded by Kristin.

I love this theater...It's just down the street from me. It has an old vintage feel and every week, they add a new sign about our present administration....I wish that I had pictures of each week's sign change..that would make for an interesting photo journal given the time I've lived in Oakland....

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Funkiness Divine



Let's just say I'm learning to live in the present and just BE...which right now means laying on my bed typing away on a story feeling exhausted and basically not giving a shit about anything else that's going on in the world. Am I unhappy, no. Am I tired, yes. Hell, I have a job, I have my degrees, I can pay my bills, feed myself, afford to go to the gym and write...let's just hope I can attack the loads of laundry that seem to be multiplying when I'm not looking.

After having a long and good cry last night, one of several in the last couple of weeks I watched a movie called Equilibrium with Christian Bale and Taye Diggs...and thoroughly enjoyed it. First, they're both quite attractive, nothing wrong with a little eye candy in that respect. More than that though, the story fascinated me. I've always walked a line between showing too much and not showing enough of what I feel. I've gotten better but it is still a struggle.

The movie takes place in a dystopian society where emotion has been completely outlawed as well as all things that could evoke emotion...art, music, anything that is colorful and passionate and whimsical. To preserve and enforce this society there are an elite group of men called the clerics, the ultimate leader of this society is only known as "Father." Interesting religious overtones as well, obviously. Each day, every citizen takes doses of a medication that they inject into themselves, including their children. Anyone who violates this and commits a "sense violation" is taken to trial and ultimately incinerated, the women wearing cloaks that remind me of the movie version of Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale. Dress is regulated to blacks, browns, greys and even the windows on all apartments have an opaque covering on them to hide any hue of sunsets or sunrises. I liked it and the action scenes were decent as well...My favorite scene that actually reduced me to tears yet again was where Bale's character breaks down and cries his heart out upon hearing Beethoven for the first time. How can one not have that response to Beethoven?


Prayers for my sister please...she's having thyroid issues again....much love T.

Monday, September 12, 2005

Fear Anyone

Is it just me or is everyone else dreaming in nightmarish technicolor scenes...Three to four days after Katrina with people dying, killing, begging I had a zombie dream. Not unusual, they're recurring for me every couple of months. Except this time instead of running through the halls outside my old high school, Pali High, I'm patrolling inside a fenced in yard with a brick fortified building behind me. Other people are on the roof looking around, wary and tense. Instead of the zombies being white, in race and skin tone....This time they're white skinned but their hair and features are clearly of African descent. Instead of them begging and hungering and slavering for flesh...all they want is bread. Just bread.

A couple of nights later I have a spider dream...another theme that comes up periodically. Somehow I'm wounded in this dream in my side and the only thing that will stop the bleeding and heal the wound is web from spiders. I watch, an invisible observer, as several people in my village go to gather these webs from the outer edges of these huge spider nests that look like great billowy grey mounds with little cavernous black mouths in them. I'm not exactly afraid but nor am I exactly happy to be there.

The most recent one woke me up early this morning in tears. I dreamt I was at a hospital. It was understaffed, some sort of catastrophic event had taken place and people didn't know whether to flee or stay and help. Somehow my sister ended up hurt, wounded and they didn't have what was needed to heal her and she didn't make it. I woke up in tears, sobbing myself awake and then said a barely conscious mumbled prayer before falling back into a dreamless sleep. Thank God.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

Katrina in Technicolor

I don't have cable TV, not even basic so any pictures that I viewed pre and post Katrina were on the internet, I'm sure not even close to what was being played and replayed on the networks. With everything that I've read from CNN, the BBC, Altnernet, truthout, latimes, NY Times...I don't understand how people could even watch what happened and say that race was not an issue, in any way shape or form. I don't have a television and as my fiancee would certainly tell you, I am no history buff by any means, not even close. However, given the economic and political history of New Orleans itself...c'mon now...puhleaz. Would the president or the now gone FEMA director allow people in LA or San Francisco to rot the way they did in NOLA? Doubtful....Cali pays more to the federal system than we get back in benefits, we make up 14% of the US economy...I could go on but I don't want to, it all makes me ill.


If you haven't already, take a look at Olbermann Swings at www.putfile.com

Thursday, September 01, 2005

Coffee Cream and Everything In Between

On the advice of my financial advisor I went to the public library and signed up for a new card. Given how much I would spend a month on books alone, the card I think will be worth it's weight in gold. I've always loved the library, the quietness except for the rustle of pages and the smell of the dust settling on the stacks, in between shelves. Love it. What I did not love was being stopped by a young woman who was on her way up the stairs to the restroom as I was walking back downstairs.

"Excuse me," she asked, stopping sharply and swiveling her thin body around, "what are you?" I have been asked this numerous times, too many to count. Less so in the Bay Area but once is plenty in my experience. I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the question and out of pure surprise. Most black people know "what" I am. I told her I was black which of course led to the next question.

"But like, you're mixed with something aren't you?" Again, I'm so glad my sense of humor is getting better so I listed for her the background of both my parents. "Wow," she exclaimed, grinning widely at me.

"Well, that's it, take care." I continued walking downstairs.

"DO YOU EVER GET CONFUSED?" I couldn't help but chuckle at that one.

"NO!" I yelled back up the stairs of the library.