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...