updates

here are a few random updates regarding past posts...

-Californication is over and i am in love with the fictional Hank Moody. really. i want him to be real.

-i still listen to kanye's album frequently... so much in fact, i recognized a piano tribute to his beats on terry's computer! i am also loving talib's new release of course and i've heard that little brother's new album is as amazing as i had expected.

-fyi, i'm back on myspace. i'm such a loser.

-grandma's boyfriend is super cool. too cool in fact. i want to tell him to stop being so nice and helpful. on the flip side, i am still sans "gentleman friend"

-the little one is not cussing anymore, although there was one incident when she decided she could test the word "damn". "mom, is damn a bad word?" "yes, please don't say it" "but why can't i say damn?" "because i'm the mom and i said so" "but why?"..... etc, etc.

-i'm still sick to death of religious know-it-alls, but that will never change. i am, however, enthused by amaia's interest in different cultures and religions. one can never knock knowlege.

-i'm ditching comcast this week.... FINALLY! has anyone tried out AT&Ts U-Verse? i'm excited because i get way more things for way less money!

-and i still don't have a job.

that's it for now!

people suck.

people bother me. i am totally the reincarnate of my father, although i'm considerably better at hiding my disdain for humanity. my dad and i couldn't stand each other for the better part of my teenage years and now i know why - we see in each other everything we hate about ourselves. anyway, here are the winners of the "bother me the most" award this week:

1. dad jew and mom jew from the bat mitzfah i catered last weekend. they spent roughly $75K on a party for a 13 year old, consisting of circus performers, street actors, personal marquee and open bar for 300 people. obviously, all is right in the world when we can shit that kind of money away. i'd die before i even spent that much on my own wedding. we worked a 15 hour shift to pull it all off and drove an hour home in the winter storm. oh, and did i mention they stiffed us on the tip? mazel tov.

2. the guy who interviewed me a month and a half ago and hasn't filled the position yet. actually, i really liked this guy and the studio and the job... which is why i'm mad at him this week. just hire me already and fix all the self-fulfillment and financial issues in my life. i hate to wait. i believe i am meant to work one job. i'm over holding down three, thank you very much. and p.s. - i would kick ass at this job.

3. the email abuser at work. i'm not a huge fan of receiving 6 emails from one person over the course of an hour about one subject. if you really have that much for me to know, think about it for a bit... THEN email me. or write a draft and read it a few times to make sure it says exactly what you want me to read before you hit the send button. also, i don't need to be copied on all of your correspondance. it clogs my inbox, i don't read it, and it stresses me out. who fucking cares?

4. and finally, as a general rule, i'm sick of reading about children being beaten, raped and murdered in the news every day. if you do it, you deserve to die. period. go to hell.

that's it for now. the bitchiness is overwhelming this week. i can think of 3-4 things that might make it better... i'll have to work on those and check my mood next week!

the truth is never PC

recently i have decided that the major gift i covet for this christmas is "The Boondocks - The Complete 1st Season" on dvd. for those of you who don't watch, you probably have no idea what i'm talking about, and you probably shouldn't read this if satirical racism offends you. if you do watch, then imagining the context of these memorable comic quotes will force you to laugh aloud... just like i am right now. anyway, here are just a few reasons why i need this in my dvd collection:


"Dear Santa, you are a bitch nigga" *scratches out* "Dear Santa, you are a bitch ASS nigga!"

"Excuse me. Everyone, I have a brief announcement to make. Jesus was black, Ronald Reagan was the devil, and the government is lying about 9/11. Thank you for your time and good night."

"I sent that bitch a smiley face. Bitches love smiley faces."

"Why cant niggaz do them? Why do niggaz gotta do me? Why do niggaz gotta ride me like a rodeo show?"

"Game recognize game, Grandad, and you're looking real unfamiliar right now!"

"Black people don't need a vaccine for the flu. Black people need a vaccine that will stop them from putting rims on a Saturn."

"Nigga, you dropped your gun? That ain't gansta."

"We don't use the N-Word in this house" "Granddad, you said nigga 46 times yesterday - I counted!" "Nigga, hush."

"You better not even dream of tellin' white folks the truth! Shooot, I'm gonna find me a white man and lie to him right now!"

"How can we invade IRAQ and have LESS GAS??? It's like invading EUROPE and running out of white women!"

"Watch closely. You are about to experience a 'nigga moment'. Webster defines the 'nigga moment' as a moment when ignorance overwhelms the mind of an otherwise logical Negro male. Causing him to act in an illogical, self-destructive manner... i.e., like a nigga. If nigga moments had their own category, they would be the third leading killer of black men behind pork chops and F.E.M.A. It's a fact."

com-smash-tic?

comcastic? sure, if the pseudo-word is meant to describe the frustration you feel after the worst customer service ever. big ups to mona shaw and her self proclaimed "hissy fit". after several poor experiences with the cable giant, i feel better about life in general now that this 75-year old granny stood up for us little people. and thank you to tone, who brought this story to my attention. who can help but smile while thinking of this woman, hammer raised above her head, shouting "do i have your attention now?!?!" after searching for a few facts to back up my rant, i was tickled to see that there are hundreds of blogs out there complaining about this monopoly. seriously, google "hate comcast" and you will get tons of hits. i even found a girl who wanted to blog about how great her zingerman's experience was and couldn't because her comcast internet was down. (sad face) i mean, c'mon... all we want is to watch our shows, surf the net and chat with our friends in peace. should it really be all that difficult?

my personal beef with comcast:

1. 2004: i ask my teenage brother to sit at the house to wait for the cable guy. since you tell me he'll show up between 8 and 5, i really need someone without a job to hang out. especially since that often means 8am on tuesday and 5pm on saturday. the guy shows up, and recites some bullshit rule about not being able to run cable where i need it to go. he asks my brother to unhook and bring my computer downstairs so he can hook it up at the door. when i get home, there is a 6 foot piece of cable, a modem and a cable box sitting inside the door.... oh, yeah, and a bill for the service call. "FUCK YOU, comcast!" my brother can have your funky ass 20 dollars for the work HE did. it took several calls from my then-boyfriend (whose name it was in) to straighten that one out.

2. i don't want your damn triple play package. i don't need a home phone. if you will provide cable, internet and phone service to me for $99, then why am i paying $118 for just cable and internet? also, to reward me for being such a loyal customer for 12 months and for paying my bills on time, you will generously increase my monthly rate by about $40. i hate you.

3. no big ten network? WTF??? i live in ann arbor and that shit is real serious around here.

4. since either nobody will speak to you on the phone OR the person who will speak to you is obviously clueless, you will schedule a call-back in the next 2 hours. "wait, did we say hours? we meant days." and guess what? the person that called back... yeah, they don't have the answer either. if they do have an answer, it's not the one i want to hear and it's delivered as rudely as humanly possible. do you conduct rudeness training for that? nobody can possibly be that rude without learning from professionals.

5. (i know, there are a lot of reasons - i'm not done ranting yet...) i am a single mother who is hog-tied indoors 28 nights out of the month. my one salvation is my "nightly line-up" of shows. of course, they are hard to enjoy when the signal keeps scrambling. it'd be one thing if i were trying to glimpse skinimax without paying for it, but I PAY for these channels. also, the signal usually seems to be weaker during season premieres or finales - when important things are happening. i'm holding out on a service call, though, to avoid another incident similar to #1.

6. i cannot STAND the woman on tv who says everyone is talking about comcast. "what does at&t like to talk about? well, lately... us!". shut up, bitch. everyone is talking about you because we all hate you. if you smile any harder (or faker), your teeth might fall out of your mouth.

believe me, if my co-op complex didn't have an agreement with this stupid company, i'd be all over some other sort of service. they're totally monopolizing the area. it felt great to cancel my internet service - more money that i am NOT giving you. in addition, my victory sometimes arrives in the form of free cable, usually as a result of them not doing their job correctly.... gasp! knowing comcast, though, they were probably still billing someone else for it all along. after all, i'm not ready to go without cable. it may be sad, but i need that part of my day.

the following logo lacks creativity, but still, i believe that it is representative of the belief of many:

"belief is a beautiful armor"

boy, i know i'm going to hear some shit about this one, but here it goes anyway...

i hate religion. i hate it because it makes people believe that they are better than you. i hate it because it can lead thousands to die in a war fought between two groups... two groups who both believe they are fighting in the name of God. i hate religion because, in my opinion, it breeds hate.

yesterday, a federal jury awarded the family of a dead marine 10.9 million dollars. his was one of the hundreds of funerals protested by "God-fearing" people who carried signs with multitudes of hateful messages: "Thank God for dead soldiers". "God hates Fags". i am sick. SICK. i am so angry that there are tears in my eyes. listen, i know that this is a small group compared to the billions of humans that practice organized religion. i know this. but the majority of my contact with religion has involved some form of "better-than-thou" attitude. according to some, my life is so empty without God. because i have not been saved, i am going to hell. also, my daughter will go to hell. i am a firm believer of live and let live as long as noone gets hurt... and i'm sure that you think i will go to hell for that, too. let me point out one thing: you believe that. you do not know that. and i disagree with you.

it's no secret that this country is based on Christianity. it is the predominant belief system and anyone running for political office who believes differently dare not say it. i'll say it because nobody's voting for me anyway(Kara for President!!!). the idea of "family values" is a pillar of our society... even if it doesn't include homosexuals, poor folk, sick folk, or intentionally single-parent households. i guess they just don't fit into the "correct way" of living in America. i've seen a close family member turn his back on his own brother, his own blood, because he is what i like to call a "super-christian" and his brother is gay. what warrants that? belief. for the record, i am extremely liberal and probably a little extreme in my way of thinking. that, however, does not mean that i would include people like rapists, muderers, or abusers into the "don't-fit-in-but-should" category. my definition of the difference is that their way of living hurts others.

i also believe myself to be an extremely open-minded person. often, i do not agree with others' beliefs about God and the likes, but i never impose that upon them. that is their own business and if that's what fills their lives with joy, then so be it, as long as they're not hateful toward others. i think that faith is a powerful thing... in fact, "faith" is permanently written on my body because i feel that it's the most important thing that a person can possess. my faith just happens to lie in myself. nobody is responsible for me but me. not even God. so why is it, then, that faith generally leads a person to believe that they are right versus someone else's wrong? who's to say what's right? i already know what most people reading this will answer to that question (God is to say), and i don't buy it. you don't know what God believes, you believe that you know through interpretation. because at some point in your life, some human being, whether it was your mother or father or a preacher, whatever, told you what to believe. it's as simple as belief - in all cases. honestly, it disgusts me that people can be so self-righteous and then use God as their defense. all i'm saying is that if you're going to preach love, acceptance, forgiveness, and/or tolerance... then practice it! God is NOT your excuse.

"Based on his interpretation of what the words were saying, trying to get to God but ends up doing the work of Satan... So it all sounds the same to me. That's why when they say one is right and the other's wrong, it just sounds like game to me. It's like God skipped past the church and came to me. No, that ain't vein to me. It's just a particular way that I came to see - the difference between those who claim to be religious and those that say they're spiritual..." - Give 'em Hell, Kweli

"When are you people going to learn? It's not about who's right or wrong. No denomination's nailed it yet, and they never will because they're all too self-righteous to realize that it doesn't matter what you have faith in, just that you have faith. Your hearts are in the right place, but your brains need to wake up." - Serendipity, Dogma

"Belief is a beautiful armor. But makes for the heaviest sword. Like punching underwater. You never can hit who you trying for. Some need the exhibition. Some have to know their trying. It’s the chemical weapon for the war that’s raging on the inside." - Belief, John Mayer

bad mommy!

honestly, i can be a pretty judgmental bitch when it comes to others' parenting skills. most days, i can conjure up oodles of reasons why i'm a better mom than so-and-so. although my voyage into and through parenthood has not unfolded as expected, i still pride myself on how i've managed. of course, i love my kiddo more than anything in the world. also, i think she is relatively well-behaved for a 3 year old and quite frankly, the coolest kid anyone could hope for! for most moms and pops, i think all of this goes without saying. this week, however, my little "angel" put me in check this week. the following two conversations happened within 24 hours:

1. i preface this first story by admitting i am pro-spanking. when a kid acts up, you gotta let 'em know who's the boss. that does not, however, constitute a beat down.... just a swat on the butt. ok, so amaia's attitude had been amplified over the weekend by an overnight visit from an extremely undisciplined buddy. he was terribly behaved and after he left, she decided she would try on this "bad girl" role. it was one of the more frustrating mother experiences and needless to say, i spent most of the day yelling and spanking and she spent most of the day either in bed or in timeout. at one point, after literally draggin her into her bed six times in a row, i unleashed a torrent of scoldings at a loud volume. but i wasn't exactly yelling at her... it was more like pleading with her to give mommy a break. it went something like: "amaia, mommy's the only one in this whole world that takes care of you every day. i love you, but you gotta give me a break. i need you to listen to me and do what you're told and stop fighting with me about everything. i'm the mom and you're the kid and that's just how it is (whoa, did i just hear MY mom chuckle in my subconciousness???) and you don't hit mommy!" and the little girl, laying limp in her bed, exhausted from the fight she put up, tears in her eyes, says... "mommy, you don't hit me!" and it stopped me dead in my tracks. ouch. "you know what?", i said. "you're right. we'll talk about that." and later that day, she and i set up a heirarchy of punishments, which only involved spanking if she didn't respond to other things. this has not in any way changed my position on spanking, but it has opened my eyes to the fact that sometimes, when it's in excess, it doesn't work. a swat should be a method of scolding the child after calm reasoning and time-outs... not a method of releasing your own frustration. score one for the kiddo.
kiddo 1. mommy 0.

2. the previous evening, i returned from work to pick up the kiddo after what she likes to call "grandma day". grandma day = friday. she loves grandma day because it's her own private time with her very favorite person (oh, and her very favorite friend - luke, the dog). after hugs and kisses and stories from her day, i retrieve a beer from the fridge. but before i can enjoy it, my mom says "i have to tell you something". uh oh, i thought. "amaia said the f-word today". (insert appropriate villanous audio clip here). what i felt at that moment was mostly embarrassment because i knew who the culprit was here and it wasn't said 3 year old. apparently, it went down like this: two beanie babies are having a conversation... at some point, the blue-colored bear says "are you fuckin' serious?". grandma asks the voice behind the blue bear to verify what she has just said and the voice repeats the phrase clear as day. grandma gently explains that this is not a nice word and she doesn't want to hear it used again. the voice says "but grandma, mom says that when she's talking on the phone". (more embarrassment. more climactic audio). now, anyone who knows me well knows that this particular phrase is definitely a kara-ism. oh my god, i'm that mom. i'm that mom that doesn't take the time to watch what she says and unintentionally teaches her kid that swearing is ok. not to mention the fact that the kid can't recite her own full name or phone number, but can recite the lyrics to the new kanye album... including a few choice words there.
kiddo 2. mommy 0.

man, i got a lot of work to do. this mommy job is hard work!

the art of apathy

"homeless and hungry". three words that infiltrate my selfish existence every morning. the man holding the sign which reads these words is also cold. perhaps there isn't enough room on his piece of cardboard to include that condition as well. the sight of him makes me feel sick as i suck down my chai latte and turn my radio down. it's almost as if the loud music is an insult to him, something i suddenly feel guilty for. as that guilt washes over me, i glance down at my wallet. without opening it, i know that the only thing in it is an unbroken hundred dollar bill. i absolutely could use it... but if i gave it away, would i miss it? what would he do with it? sympathy tells me to actually get out of my car and talk to him. but paranoia immediately follows and convinces me that i might wind up in a ditch or something. even with hundreds of cars passing by. deciding i needed more time to consider this, i continue on. i'm late for work anyway.

i consider myself to be a relatively bright individual, and yet even i have been down the road that leads to displacement. there are two things, however, that i possess that set me apart from those who end up holding these signs: first is the ability to create a hustle in times of need, and secondly, the love of a family who would never let this happen to me. after spending the past month complaining about what i don't have to furnish my home, i now find myself fantastically appreciative of my bed without a frame. my aesthetically-challenged refrigerator. the five coats that i flipped through this morning with disdain. my healthy child.

each time i see a person living on the streets, my gut knots up. i feel pity and curiosity. i want to know who they are and what led to this condition. i want to pull a fat bill out of my pocket and get them started on the road to recovery. and i want to know that they'd take advantage of it and use it in the best way possible. why, then, do i approach with so much anxiety as the ways in which i can ignore them speed through my brain? there are so many. i can't help them all. usually, i only have about ten bucks anyway - and often, those ten dollars have to last me for three or four more days. every friday i'm in detroit, there is a new person on the corner of southfield road and 8 mile. i always wonder if they race to see who gets to stand there and beg for the day... i also wonder if the man i pass in ann arbor each morning will still be there tomorrow. i offer no insightful solutions here today. i don't know of any. the problem of homelessness plagues this country and it gets worse every single day. could we not just take the cool trillion we drop on a pointless war every year and save our own people? am i super-naive for suggesting that? is it not as easy as it sounds? sympathy is a double-edged sword, you know. you care so much, but you feel so powerless. perhaps for some, apathy is just easier.

ypsi high and PC-ism

well, good ol' ypsi high is well into their school year and still... no mascot. this creates a very serious problem for me. i plan on attending the homecoming football game this week, daughter in tow, and what can we possibly yell if not "go Braves!"? ok, who started all of this? i'm sure i could look it up, but don't care enough to do so. but seriously, being called the "Braves"... is it really that big of a deal? is the person who raised hell about this even native american in the first place? or is she (yes, i'm sure it's a woman as all men are either against change or too lazy to put up a fight) just another annoying PC-ist who believes that EVERYTHING should be PC, whether it's offensive or not. does not the term "Brave" mean something honorable? i'd be honored if my people were represented by such a positive term. somehow, chanting "go Braves" does not equal "go crackers" or "go niggas" or any other sort of venomous race-related term. or MAYBE the dishonor comes in being represented by a group of athletes who rarely know how to carry themselves properly and recite phrases like "we gon fuck you up", yet constantly come up short when it comes to any sort of post-season play? (ok, ok, i know that was harsh, but take it with a grain of salt - i, too, was once a Brave who never made it to post-season and only once in my five years of coaching did i bring home a district and league title).

who knows, but in any case, we have to come up with a new mascot, people! i'm so thankful that the rumored "Royals" never made the cut. duh, royal isn't even a school color. who thought up that dumb idea? probably the same woman who protested the Braves in the first place. suggestions welcome...

life with myspace

wow. to all of my concerned fans, i'm so very sorry to have interrupted your life by deleting my myspace account. frankly, i was tired of it. bored, so i moved on to blogging. which by no means is any more grown-up than myspace. just more fun. so, again, thank you for all the emails, IM's and texts that you all sent me. "WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR MYSPACE????" it's almost as if a part of me has died. perhaps you will find a new "top friend" or perhaps, in mourning, you will leave that empty space it leaves in your top 8, 12, 2o or whatever... to remember me by. i will deeply miss all of your comments, bulletins and sparkly graphics but it's time for me to move on. as a side note, the amount of people who noticed i was gone was in sharp contrast to the small amount of actual correspondence i received via myspace - leading me to believe that you all are stalkers! (frankly, i can't help but chuckle as i write this. are you all serious?) please save this url to your favorites so that now, you can look forward to stalking me as i write something each day i am at work. i'm getting to be a professional at not working at work lately!

hood-tastic!

how do i hate "ghetto-ness"? let me count the ways...

last week, i'm driving furiously to best buy, ironically to pick up a new hip-hop album, when i'm stopped behind a hooptie. the trunk is rattling (not bumping, rattling) with the bass vibrations of what can only be classified as gangsta music. no, not gangst-er music, which would more likely remind me of frank sinatra or tony soprano. gangst-a music, which in my eyes, mostly entertains the low-life population who think they're scary and important like gangsters, but are really just folks lacking respect, motivation, and therefore employment. besides the point. so there are two people in the car. the male driver is waving his arms up and down like he's the rap star and proceeds to repeatedly stick his finger in the female passenger's face. as if this is not sufficient insult, he begins to push her head with his finger. now, she is obviously annoyed, given that she keeps swatting his hand away, but if it were me, i would have punched him dead in his eye ("who you callin' a bitch? U-N-I-T-Y".... ha, sorry- it just slipped out).

today, CNN ran a news story about more states stiffening penalties for excesively baggy pants that show undergarments, or even worse ass crack. of course, the ACLU is fighting it. in most cases, i'm a supporter of the organization, but c'mon. if i see you with pants around your knees, believe this: i'm not talking to you, i'm not looking at you (for fear of an unintentional eye-roll resulting in a verbal assault) and i'm DEFINITELY not hiring your sorry ass.

there's nothing about "ghetto-ness" that i'm a fan of really. pants around your knees? not hot. clothes bearing the likes of fat albert and tweety bird? not hot. packing heat? nope. sporting your hair in the shape of a helicopter? yuck. damn, you can't even find good weed in the hood anymore. but i guess my main problem with it is its ability to stick around into the adulthood years. i hate to see a 16 year old carrying himself like this, but if he's still behaving this way at 40, even 30... that's not ok. you have to learn how to make the switch. you don't holla atcha boss like you holla atcha boi. word?

disclaimer: i grew up in ypsi, ok? i'm no stranger to baggy jeans, gym shoes, over-sized jerseys and EXTREMELY tight hair. not tight like "nice hair", but tight like "ouch". in high school, i spent a lot of time on the south side and honestly believed that i fit in. sure, i was usually high at the time, but i could still walk it and talk it. and i've taken part in more than my share of "baby momma" fights, playing the roles of baby momma, other girl and innocent bystander. perhaps it's unusual that i, of all people, am commenting on this absurdity, when i'm known to have a "hood" tendency myself. perpetual dater of black men, incessant user of the F-word, owner of 3 pairs of Timberlands, and public worshipper of the movie "Tupac: Ressurection". but i know how to be a grown-up when necessary. and that my friends, makes me "hood-tastic"!!!!!

hate to love him

ok, so i just listened to kanye's new album, Graduation, for the first time today. first of all, let me point out that i hate kanye. he is a whiney, arrogant, immature, flagrant cry-baby. hate him. "George Bush hates black people". no he doesn't, fucker... he hates POOR people. so why oh why is he so genious? seriously, please God, give me his producing skills and his money and i promise not to be a sell out. what he's become is the antithesis of what he creates. he is a progressive, innovative, skillful producer and rapper. his work speaks for itself. it is part of the hip-hop movement. positive. progressive. real. and then he opens his mouth out in the real world and he fucks it all up. his personality represents everything the intellectual population hates about rap. mr. west, you take 10 steps forward and 15 back. you fit right into dave chappelle's advancement of black people chart. sure, we'd all rather see you open the VMA's than britney spears. but if you were really real, you'd quit crying about not getting awards. after all, you got your "got a lotta cheese award", that's all you care about, right? the one good thing that has come from your ridiculous social outbursts? 50 cent has vowed to retire if this album outsells Curtis. let's hope he makes good on his word.

damn. but your album is so hot.

so? i bootlegged that shit anyway. bitch.

on a far more positive note.... amongst all this gangster bullshit going on, did everyone forget about the new releases of talib, lupe and little brother??? you want progress, this is it. i just bought Eardrum today and CAN'T WAIT to get home and check it out. i'm actually ashamed i didn't cop it until now. it was released on my daughter's birthday, so it's destined to be good! with appearances by KRS-One (HELLO! KRS-One!!!), musiq, lyfe jennings, kanye, JT, UGK, raheem devaugn, norah jones and jean grae.... hey, it's this kind of album that deserves your money.

SUPPORT PROGRESSIVE HIP-HOP.

jim crow in jena

ok, i talk about revolution all the time, but never have i actually wanted to participate so bad. i desperately want to march in Jena next week. i already know there will be thousands there on the steps of the courthouse, but i need one of those people to be me. sure, we all know that racism, classism, bigotry... all of that still exist. it happens every day in every nook and cranny of the world. the fact that Jena HS still has a "white tree" makes me sick to my stomach. but this case is such a gross abuse of power that our entire nation needs to stand up and prove that we are not apathetic. we're talking the futures of six average teenagers. i'm frantic trying to figure out how to go... like let me see who can watch amaia for 2 days... let me see if i can trade a few days at work since i ran out of vacation... let me see if the NAACP still has room on the bus from Detroit. folks, there are buses leaving from every major city in the country and they're cheap! deep down, i know i can't go because of amaia, but i'm going to figure out another way to help the cause. first, i'm asking everyone... ANYONE who can possibly go, please GO! second, if you support the cause (who wouldn't???), please wear all black as a sign of protest next thursday. finally, if i get enough studio time tomorrow, i will produce a PSA to air on The Prop Shop this saturday. America, don't let "the man" get us down like this. this is history repeating itself...


if you don't know the story, read it first...
Current Jena 6 Story - ABC News
The Jena 6 Timeline

september 11th.

all jokes aside today. it's september 11th. we all know what it means... national silence in memory of the men and women who lost their lives the day the World Trade Center collapsed. most of us will no doubt spend at least a few moments in our busy schedules to reflect on it - even if you don't want to, it's impossible to avoid the amount of mention it will receive today. as those who came before us will always remember where they were when Pearl Harbor was attacked, or when President Kennedy was assasinated, we shall always remember where we were on september 11th, 2001.

but i'm not here today to talk about that day. i'm here to remember a different september 11th. the day just one year earlier that my friend's son went missing. she put her 8 year old to bed one night and he was gone in the morning. he is 15 now. i think about zach a lot actually. nevermind that i never have actually met his mother. nevermind that this all happened in florida - hundreds of miles away from the tree-lined boulevards of ann arbor. the only thing that matters is that i'm a mother. before i'm anything, i'm a mother. i would die if i lost my daughter. just die. and what burns me up inside every day of the year is to watch dozens of children, young children, run free with no watchful eye on them. i know, i know - this is America... land of the free, blah blah blah. but bad things happen people. even to kids with careful parents. call me paranoid, but i'm not letting mine out of sight until she's in high school. and even then, you never know.

all i'm asking is that we don't forget these children. it happens every day where you live. they're not gone - they're missing. nothing speaks more clearly to that than the case of the little boy in missouri. if you have children, i'd imagine that stories like these hurt your heart. deeply. just as they do mine. if you've never had children, it's hard to understand how awful a parent's love can be at times. but you can still keep your eyes open. an amber alert is not something to be ignored... take a minute from your busy life and read it. maybe you've been chosen to save a child today.

so, if my friend is reading this, please know this: you and zach are in my thoughts every day. not just today. and i pray (something i don't do often) that you and your family will know what peace is one day. oh, how i wish i could just walk out my door and find him for you...

the other woman

chances are, if you have to dial *67 before you dial a phone number, you probably shouldn't be calling that person. i was "lucky" enough to be on the receiving end of two such phone calls last night. the first at 1:13am and then again at 2:11am. to say that i was a little displeased to be woken up in the middle of the night by the BUZZ of my phone and the word RESTRICTED pasted across the screen would be quite an understatement. sure, there was a time when a phone call at that hour was exciting. something to look forward to and maybe even something that would keep me from falling asleep in the first place. but not now.

first of all, after a sunday of: a, waging mental war with a stubborn 3 year old; b, waiting for said 3 year old to fall asleep so i could secretly box up toys that she hasn't played with in a year (for fear that if she saw this project, it might just push her over the edge); c, attempting to be an inpartial source of advice to my good friend who is dealing with the "should we or shouldn't we get back together" stage which follows a break-up; and d, feeling sorry for myself for several reasons... i needed to sleep it off!

second, i'm fairly certain that i know who the caller was. well, at least i have it narrowed down to two people. usual suspect #1: the man who infiltrated my life for 7 years with no real honorable intentions and although we spent many "late nights" together, miraculously did not end up fathering my child. sure, i was equally to blame, but i'm positive that he came out of that with far fewer scars than i. but that's another post.... and although we may go months without speaking to or seeing each other, he is sure to slither from the depths eventually. that's what he does. usual suspect #2: his psycho pseudo-wife who has threatened my life on numerous occasions, but who really just needs someone better than him. if this is the case, she was likely waiting up for him to come home from another lover's home and since i'm her usual suspect, she decided just to check in. ah, there's no love like crazy love!

yes, the whole world knows that i, in my youth, fell in love with a (sort of) married man. i have born the "other woman" title for years. in any case, please get over it. the other woman still exists... it's just not me. besides, i'm not sure what the *67 is good for in this case... these are not-so-anonymous phone calls anyway.

sex, lies and city hall

ah, yes, detroit. one of the most infamous cities in the country. we got scandal, we got drugs, we got murder, and perhaps some of the most cocky bottom-feeders in the world. and nothing is more representative of the city's nature than its government. Kwame Kilpatrick, mr. mayor himself, is all wrapped up in court this month over... well, everything. threatening staff members for being snitches, whoring out his corrections officers, whoring the city out for his own personal benefit and, of course, sexual affairs in back rooms of barber shops. but let's get real, people... this has been going on since the days of carlita's navigator and being ejected (along with the entire entourage) from DC's clubs. and you did it, detroit. YOU re-elected him. fuckers. so stop whining and man up for another term. it's called democracy. and guess what? in case you missed it, black folks have been allowed to vote since 1965... and the historical voting foundation is made up of white trash. so get it together, detroit. participate.

the adulthood disconnect

after some friendly chit-chat amongst my web-world parent friends the other day, i began to think about why we feel so disconnected from the rest of the world once we become parents, spouses, professionals, whatever. i guess i was a little surprised to find out that a large percentage of them felt the same way, because usually i imagine myself as somewhat of a recluse compared with others. where did all of these insecurities come from? at work, we spend most of our time trying to act like a "grown up". in social settings, we preoccupy ourselves with attempting to be funny, witty, casual... most importantly, likeable. when did our own skin become so uncomfortable? i reminisce on days when i thought the entire population loved me just as much as i it. now it seems to me that as we grow older, we allow most (if not all) of our relationships to weaken. perhaps it only seems that way to me because most of mine were not meant to be strong in the first place. i am currently sacrificing geographical proximity for emotional proximity. the people that are close to my heart are actually quite far away. illinois, north carolina, california, nevada, northern michigan, etc. it makes me wonder, though... would i still feel the same way about these people if they were across the street? or would that just be too close? my simplified conclusion: i think that although we all long for a deeper connection with others, it's just easier not to. there's less risk involved - less chance of being dissapointed because we "don't fit in". and thanks to this wonderful thing called technology, it's even easier now to monitor our own level of disconnect. oh, how i love the art of text-messaging and emailing. what better way to "connect" to people without truly connecting?

my birth as a blogger

while i've been contemplating starting a blog for some time now, it wasn't until i became addicted to Californication that i was actually motivated to do it (single-motherhood will force you to succumb to the guilty pleasure of HBO or Showtime series). my adventures certainly cannot parallel those of Hank Moody, but nevertheless, i think it could get interesting. after all, there are many instances in life that deserve a few words. often, i possess more than a few...