Thursday, December 31, 2009

...I Will Be Brave...

I was kind of a tough kid. I wasn’t a bully, but I had a reputation where people knew not to make me mad. I didn’t start fights, but I always finished them. And I wasn’t necessarily what some might call a “confident” person, but I was brave when I had to be. Not the kind to leap without looking, but they were far flying leaps if I thought they would serve me.

And then one day I (quite literally) woke up a different person.

I was living in Chicago at the time and woke up with a horrible headache. I felt nauseated and disturbed, and like I was covered in fur. I had the odd sensation of something trying to pull or scratch at me. I was alone but the room still seemed too quiet since I lived on Division St which is just a bunch of bars lined up on both sides of the road and less than half a block from the subway, so it was pretty loud around the clock. Still I remembered being alarmed at how quiet it was and how sick and wobbly I felt.

I got up to go to the bathroom and wash my face and noticed in the mirror that my eyes weren’t right. My pupils were completely dilated, no white, no color, just black, like that old Bones Thugs video.



I remember feeling shocked and confused. I put a cold towel across my eyes for a minute and pressed but when I looked up, nothing had changed.
I remember thinking I probably just needed to get out and get some air. I was living in the world’s tiniest apartment and even with the windows open, it could feel stifling.


I managed to get dressed and grab my backpack to walk to the library about 4 or 5 blocks away but as soon as I hit the street, something didn't feel right.

Sunday, December 20, 2009

...This is Part Where You Judge Me...

This post is coming from a different place, so despite my best self-editing efforts, it contains language some might find offensive.

I don’t give any details, but slight trigger warning anyway.


A major rule that governs my life is “you are all you have.”


If you want it done, go do it. And if you think you need help, there is no such thing as help unless you help yourself.  If you get yourself into a situation, get yourself out of it.

I don’t rely on anyone for anything and I make all of my plans with me in mind. It’s actually quite liberating; a complete disregard for what other people think or feel….This is the source of my happiness. Except when it isn’t. 



Turns out the flaw with the philosophy is that it leaves you in an odd position whenever someone else needs help. Do you help, or worry about yourself?

Reasons I should help:

  1. Moral obligation
  2. If I don't, who will? (For the record, no one else did)
  3. It might save a life, or a lifetime of pain.
Reasons I should not help:
  1. It's not even happening, I imagined the whole thing. All three times.


Sunday, December 13, 2009

...Letting Go is Difficult... and Wonderful...

For years, the story of how I learned to ride my bike without training wheels would remain in my head as a wonderful, funny story about a great thing my sister, Cassie, did for me, as well as a sad and defining moment in our relationship.These days I see it a little differently.

I was motivated to learn because Cassie promised me that if I did, we could go bike riding together, maybe even as far as to the park which in my 8-year-old mind was pretty far.

This was no easy task since my parents had given my bike away to my friends’ family. (They had three kids, but two “tike” bikes; we had two kids and three tike bikes). At first I didn’t mind since the math seemed right, and I was actually left with the nicer bike, but I soon realized this also left me with a larger bike. Even with the seat on the lowest setting, I still couldn’t sit down and reach the pedals at the same time, so I struggled a bit with it and Dad eventually relented and put one training wheel on the bike.

Despite the teasing from the other kids on the street (including the same kids that had my bike), and encouragement from my parents and neighbors, I was still unable to let go of the training wheel. I just couldn’t understand the mechanics of how the bike worked and it didn’t seem logical to me that I could make this machine remain upright and in motion just by hopping on and pedaling.

“You just get on and go” my father would say, but I couldn’t make sense of it. So while I had never known my dad to ever be wrong, I still couldn’t trust it.

Cassie took the training wheel off and pedaled me over to the next street early one morning near the end of summer. She was smart enough to recognize that I was being distracted by an atmosphere of adults yelling, “You can do it!” and kids yelling, “No you can’t!”

Saturday, December 5, 2009

...Tis the Season for Overspending...

In these not so great financial times many of us might find comfort and connection in knowing things pretty much stink for almost everyone, almost everywhere.

I found someone’s ATM receipt yesterday and, of course, I read it before I ripped it and tossed the shreds. Someone withdrew a couple hundred dollars from their account leaving them with a balance of less than $100.

Let’s pretend it was for a bill or other necessary expense but if you’re thinking what I’m thinking, it was probably money for Christmas shopping. Let’s be honest: even the biggest of savers and most fiscally responsible among us have been known to lose their money mindful selves during the holiday season.


Darn the H1N1, can someone make a vaccination for over-spending?


Due to multiple scheduling conflicts my family and I celebrate “Christmas” during Thanksgiving, complete with gift exchange. The greatest benefit to this is that you’re done shopping just before all the stores start laying on the heavy holiday push tactics like the decorations and music. One store nearby actually had Halloween and Christmas decorations in the same aisle! I mean, dang, can Santa make his presence known via the Thanksgiving Day parade before we start up with the holiday hoopla?


If you’re still out there in the trenches, fighting the crowds for that perfect gift I hope you find the following ideas helpful:
  • There is no perfect gift- whatever you get, they'll complain anyway
  • Keep those arms akimbo- and never you mind that old lady you just knocked down for the last pink Snuggie; She was old, and her time was coming soon anyway.
  • Leave the kids at home. They just weigh you down and you need to be quick on your feet to snatch that last Zhu-Zhu Pet.
Oh, wait, this was supposed to be about smart spending during the holidays. Well then, I hope you find these ideas helpful instead:

Thursday, November 26, 2009

...We're All Fat and Happy...

My sister is home for the holidays.
She's one of those people that takes pictures of everything.








And it was good, too! :-)

Song stuck in my head right now:
Janet Jackson "What Have You Done For Me Lately"

Hope you have a lot to be thankful for!

Saturday, November 21, 2009

...I Can't Watch this Commercial...



Because it always makes me think of this...



Wishing you a happy, safe, and entertaining holiday season!

Sunday, November 15, 2009

...(Pardon Our Dust)...

I hope to be able to offer links the "songs stuck in my head" so that you, too, can have them stuck in your head, but I'm still learning the ropes here with media players and all that, so you'll pardon our dust while we try to upgrade our site to better serve you.  We value your  visits. :-)


Friday, November 13, 2009

...It's time to move on from this...

I haven’t been a loyal viewer of 106 and Park since they booted Free and AJ, but I managed to get almost through a whole show today since I was waiting to see how the Chris Brown interview would go.  

Hmm.

Roxie seemed to be on the same wavelength of so many others I’ve heard on the situation. She seemed to doubt Chris’s sincerity and appeared almost offended by his demeanor. If he smiles, or laughs or seems anything other than suicidal, the little birds get their feathers ruffled. (On a side note, if Roxie was really holed up for days and weeks at a time to Premier Michael Misick while he was still married, she’s got some nerve questioning someone’s intentions.)


I don’t believe that Chris’s behavior demonstrates a lack of remorse. I believe his behavior demonstrates the maturity of an average 19 year old male. I’ll leave you to decide what that means, but if you’re thinking one who laughs at everything or one who has the attention span of a toddler, you’re in the ballpark.


A person can only apologize so many times and in so many ways. Either you believe them or you don’t; either you’ll forgive them or you won’t.


And maybe this thing is your thing that you just can’t forgive. We all have something that we find so awful or troubling that we just cannot find it in our hearts to erase it from our minds.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

...You Know When to Stay and When to Go...

The first time I ever experienced dating violence, I was about 16 years old

My then-boyfriend –let’s call him “Artie” - was in a crowd of six, five boys and one girl, and they were listening intently as the girl tried to “explain” that she didn’t “really have a big butt. I just have an arch in my back.” She then proceeded to adjust herself in her chair so that she was on her knees with her rear up in the air and facing the circle of boys so she could demonstrate. “See? See the arch?”

Now I know she knew exactly what she was doing. And I know they knew exactly what she was doing. And since I had just made direct eye contact with Artie, I know he knew I was hoping he wouldn’t do what I thought he was going to do, but he did it anyway.


He leaned forward toward her up-ended bottom and opened his mouth. I don’t know if he was going to lick, or bite, or what, I just know I saw him on the verge of doing something horrible. He was being disrespectful to her (even though she was disrespecting herself) and he was being disrespectful to me by even pretending he was going to put his mouth on some girls butt, in public, and in front of me. And he was really kind of disrespecting himself by behaving like some drunk loser in a bar who’s had a few too many.


He never got the chance to do what he was going to do because before I knew it I had taken every ounce of muscle and adrenaline available to me and directed it straight down my right arm , out of my fist and landed it somewhere around his head or shoulder.


And somehow he ended up on the floor.


And I remember him popping back up and I vaguely recall his fingers curling into a fist. But since I had been raised to know if you start it, you have to finish it, I had my fists up and ready too.


“I dare you. I seriously f----- dare you.” I said. And I meant it, too. In that moment, our obvious size difference wasn’t an issue for me. He was an athlete, too so he was probably faster and stronger, but unless he was angrier than I was, he didn’t stand a chance. I’m not saying he wasn’t very angry, but I know his rage could not have possibly matched mine in that moment and good or bad I was ready to deal with whatever happened next.

Friday, October 30, 2009

...Twits Shouldn't Tweet...

I admit it. I once tried Twitter.

I don't tweet anymore and I haven't even been reading the tweets from the people I've been following but there was a time when I did check it out just to see what all the fuss was about.

I signed up to follow a couple celebs that I like to keep up with, but I  thought my page looked odd being completely blank, so I "tweeted" something . Then something else.

And after the third one I thought, "Who the heck am I talking to?"

I should have known better than to sign up for something that couldn't be completely deleted but at least there's the private function. I hope it actually works.

If there is anything positive about Twitter, it's the ability for fans to follow celebs and organizations and keep informed and (somewhat) communicate.  I once sent a tweet to  a company after a bad run in at their website followed by a worse run in with customer service. My problem was resolved later that same day. Nice.

And the negatives? Aside from the obvious...
  • I object to the term, and refused to be called a "follower"
  • Reading tweets is sometimes like listening in on one half of a conversation that's not any of your business anyway.
  • Fake celeb pages. Yes, I accidentally followed one of those.
  • Real celeb pages. But only when they reveal that celeb might be boring, obnoxious, or an idiot.
That last one can be heartbreaking.


On that note, a word from one of my favorite vloggers...

Man, I love this guy. If I still used it, I would totally follow him on Twitter.


Song stuck in my head right now (as shameful as it is to admit): Lil Jon f/ Pharrell and the Ying Yang Twins, "Stick That Thang Out"

Sunday, October 18, 2009

...You Embarrass Me (Females), part deux...

Mea Culpa
You aren’t mistaken: I change the title of the last post to better reflect the content. Plus, someone that read it felt offended and thought it was directed at them in particular, based on a recent conversation.



Maybe she was in my mind a little, but the piece was not specifically about her, so I apologize for any bad feelings or misrepresentation. It was not my intent. I was only speaking my mind about some relationship issues that come up over and over again with women that completely unnerve and yes, embarrass me, as a female.


In the past, my relationships have always been friendships that blossomed into something else. The “meet-date-screw-relationship” concept is foreign to me. I know people do it, but I don’t understand it, and I find myself surprised at how widespread it is.


It seems to me that the mechanics of intimacy would make it difficult to meet a guy and then “do” him three dates later. How do you allow yourself to let someone make that level of contact with you so quickly? And I said “three dates” because my experience has been this is the time most guys get antsy about the subject. Some have even been fairly aggressive about it to the point of me finding myself mentally planning my exit and grateful that I had taken Muay Thai boxing lessons.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

...You Embarrass Me (Females)...

Update: This is the post previously titled "I Am Alone and You are Lonely" - please see Mea Culpa to find out why I changed the title

(and this might not apply to you if you're smarter than average)

I stumbled upon a short article the other day about a woman that was 106 years old, never drank, smoked, wore make-up or got married. She said she never found “Mr. Right” but was starting to think about settling down. And also thinking of maybe trying some make up. This lady might be my hero.
Sadly most of the comments that followed the article were from irate women barking about how the woman was an idiot for not recognizing that there was no perfect man and maybe if she had worn some make up she wouldn’t be on the verge of dying alone.
Jeez, ladies, what’s all the anger about?

Sunday, October 4, 2009

...Mike Wasilco is Awesome...

A recent encounter with a co-worker made me think of a one of the many great teachers I have had the great pleasure of learning from. His name was Mike Wasilco and I had him in the eleventh grade Physiology and Anatomy, and Qualitative Analysis, then again in the twelfth grade for Physics.

These should have been hard classes, but he had such a great teaching style there was never a semester that I didn’t score an “A” in those classes and I actually still retain some of the knowledge. (Yep, I’m the only person I know who can name all the bones in the body.)

Friday, September 25, 2009

...You can start this weekend with a Smile!...

Not since that squirrel interrupted a ballgame has a video made me smile and laugh so much.

If this kid had a vote, he would agree with Kanye about Beyonce's vid.


That kid's a natural dancer, he picks up choreography pretty fast.

And in case you missed the squirrel:

Funny videos

I hope you have a GREAT weekend!

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

...Everything Brown Isn't Necessarily Chocolate...

As I write this, in between spritzing my hair with water, I’m thinking about how I have enough hair products to open a small beauty supply store. Except half of this stuff is junk that I wouldn’t sell to my worst enemy even if she had really nice hair and I wanted to wreck it.


During one of my cleaning and organizing sprees, I set aside some space just for hair products. It’s now overflowing with “all natural” things I’ve tried and like, don’t like, kind of hate, really hate, am undecided, or still not sure if I want to try. I peeled the price tags off of most of them so it wouldn’t influence how I felt about a product. (I paid $19 for this hair cream, so it better work. Even if it doesn’t work, it had better work, dangit!)

As luck would have it, the $19 junk was, in fact, garbage. I tried to share it with other women of various hair textures hoping to get my money’s worth, but none of them liked it either. A little research would have told me that there’s a virtual anti-fan club for this particular product line. Black women (and a few white women, I hear) rushing to get on the natural hair care product bandwagon were duped into buying this multi-celebrity endorsed miracle snake, er uh, hair oil.

It’s not just the styling products but the so-called all natural shampoos and conditioners. The orders for healthy hair (and skin, and whatever else) are clear: No sulfates, no parabens, no “cones”, no mineral oil… what the hell is left people, besides juices and berries?

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

...I Really Wish You Would...


~an ode to Kanye West~

There are two things that bother me about the Kanye West incident at the 2009 MTV VMAs.



  • The first being, the way some people are reacting to it.
  • The second being, well, the way some people are reacting to it.


Monday, September 7, 2009

...My Head *Still* Hurts...

So the delay between this posting and the last posting can be blamed on the return of the Zeus.

Sometimes he comes alone, and sometimes he brings Jim, James, Paul and Tyrone. Well no, actually to be fair they all have their own names:
  • the Gnome
  • the Slasher
  • the Archaeologist
  • the Gremlin
  • the Pumpkin Carver
Their personalities are quite distinct, and after nearly 11 years together, I thought they deserved their own names. So  I named them.

Monday, August 10, 2009

...The Wrongdoing is in Doing Wrong...

For Daniel.

When I was a kid my dad had a lot of recording equipment in the basement. Old stuff that I don’t even have names for but I remember some big reel to reel thing, some devices with what seemed like billions of buttons and switches and lights. Some speakers the size of small kid, some headphones the size of a small kid’s head. Some big microphones and one little tiny one.

Thursday, July 23, 2009

...Stars Must Shine and Beauty is More than Skin Deep...

For me, it's like this: If you’re a celebrity and I go to the trouble to closely follow your career, support your efforts, boast about you to others, and try to spread the word of the glory that is you, the very least you can do for me is not fall of the ding- dang pedestal I put you on!

I don’t want to hear about how deep down you’re just a regular human being. I know, dangit, but you’re screwing up the fantasy with all this humanity crap. Sure it’s unreasonable, but some people have unreasonable jobs and your job is provide me with an escape from reality- not a reminder. Stay on your job!

This means…

Saturday, July 18, 2009

...I Am So Not Eating This Thing...

I mentioned during my Ode to Doritos that I have been trying to explore new foods, mostly exotic fruits.

I just stroll on over to that side of the produce section and pick something that looks interesting.
So far it’s been pretty okay. I’ve tried things that were completely new to me like the tamarillo (awesome), kiwanos (pretty good), and pluots (loved these!). And I’ve tried some things that were necessarily new but maybe I never had a “fresh” one before like mango, papaya and passion fruit.

On Friday, I picked up an interesting purple potato looking thing. 




Sunday, July 12, 2009

...We Should Appreciate the Simple Things...

~An Ode to Doritos~

In keeping with the grand tradition of blaming the mother for all of life’s woes, failures, and misfortunes, I would now like to fault my mother for my Doritos addiction.

It wasn’t all her fault. The taste of powdery cheese, the crunch, the cool shape. There was never a better chip invented, corn or potato. Still we can’t ignore her role in what would ultimately become a struggle in snack food sobriety.

Exhibit A: When I was about 6 or so, my cousin "Keri" attempted a pretty sophisticated bike stunt that involved “popping a wheelie” while on a fairly steep dirt hill. Something called “cell memory” makes my arm sting just thinking about it but I only vaguely recall the specific details of everything that went wrong.

Monday, July 6, 2009

...Some things are easier said than done...

I wrote this post about this incident involving a good friend "Joe" and a dead guy "Moe" and how my mother's stoic demeanor have all combined to create a storm of emotions and a potential relationship issue for me.

I was trying to explore my inability to open up about certain things.

Too bad I made a last minute decision to not publish it.

I thought I was showing real progress. :-) (Maybe later, eh?)

Musical Notes Stuck in my Head right now:

Jamiroquai "Space Cowboy" and "Seven Days in Sunny June"

Friday, June 26, 2009

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

...We May Feel Entitled...

I remember sitting on the bed with my sister after coming home from the hospital when my father passed away doing one of those ugly cries. “I keep thinking of dumb stuff,” I said. “Like, who’s going to give me away when I get married?”

Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking “Angel, I thought you said you never wanted to get married” And well you’re right, I don’t and I didn’t, but it was the principle of the thing. Even though I’ve known my whole life that marriage is a scam perpetrated by The Man in an attempt to shorten the life span and lower the IQ of women everywhere, in this moment on the bed crying with my sister, I felt jilted.
I felt like I had lost my right to something I was entitled to even if I never planned to use the entitlement.
Think about people you know that didn’t grow up with a father- not because the father was no longer living, or off somewhere working to provide a living, but because he just didn’t step up to the plate and do the right man thing. Let’s say he’s somewhere with 11 kids by 8 different women and not taking care of any of them and everyone knows he’s a no good bum. Rest assured at least one of his kids is still going to feel like she’s missing something from him not being there. Even though she knows where he is, knows he’s a loser… even if she had some other man raise her to better than her real “dad” ever could, she’s still going to feel like she missed out on something by her biological dad not being in the picture. Why? Entitlement.

Truthfully there are very few things in life we are actually entitled to, but happily,  a few might be all that we need to get where we need to go.  Combine any of these things with the right attitude, some resourcefulness,  hardwork, commitment and opportunity, and you should have all you need or could ever want.  If you are a member of the Earth family, you are entitled to the following: 

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

...Some kids need a good whack every now and then...

This is not a celebrity blog, nor do I care about celebrities and so-called celebrities or what they do but this story is all over the place and after doing some easy research I had to speak on it.


This Kate lady with the 8 kids is all over the news because she spanked one of her daughters. The story goes the little girl was blowing a whistle while the mom was on the phone. The mom told her to stop and when she didn’t, Mom goes over and whacks the kid, the kid starts crying, by-standers take pictures and controversy ensues.


Now based on how many times I heard the story I was expecting to look into it and find evidence that the mother served the little girl two uppercuts, a backhand ,and a drop-kick. Turns out that she walked over, grabbed her arm and gave her an open hand smack on the fanny. The little girl cries as most kids do when they get into trouble and grabs her heiny. The picture of this states that she is “in pain.'


Okay.


Let me back up a few years.
When I was about 8 or 9 years old I had one of those giant balloon ball thingies on the string that you could hang like a punching bag. Except my dad wouldn’t let me hang it so I kept tossing it up in the air and punching it as many times as I could before it hit the ground. Then I started to try and kick it back up so it wouldn’t hit the ground at all and I could keep the action going.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

...I'm going au natural...


Or maybe not, I still haven't completely decided.


And for the record, I'm talking about my hair, so I guess I really meant, "all natural" but now that I have your attention...

There are a lot of reasons to go either way, but my reasons for leaning towards the kinky curly side of life are quite simple. There’s no political agenda. I’m not trying to make a statement. I don’t need to break the so-called bonds of self hatred that manifested itself in getting my hair relaxed. I’m not trying to get over a bad break up. I’m not having a midlife crisis.

I am however considering a career change that would require less salon dependency. I’ve noticed some horrible unacceptable changes to the condition of my hair including a color lift from an astonishing jet black to a copper rust color and a few other indescribable effects that make my hair look interesting but not like, well, my hair.

And finally, after about five years of unsuccessful stylists hopping with unsatisfactory results, it has occurred to me that I am perfectly capable of screwing up my own hair – and for free, or at least for cheap.

In the beginning, there was Jackie. Love of my life, my hair’s soulmate, best hair care expert stylist ever. Her work inspired the envy of women, the adoration of men and the happiness of me. After years and years of a beautiful relationship, she up and left me. No call, no letter, no nothing. The others in the salon didn’t even know what happened. She just gave her two-week notice, and never came back, tossing my hair mercilessly back onto the market where I have been used and abused in a freak show of hair horrors.

Send in the clowns, homey!

Monday, June 1, 2009

...Music is Crud...

I think I have uncovered secret documents to explain the current state of music today. For your consideration, I present a page from rare industry insider document:
  • Find some talent means, "find smoeone with a nice look. Actual music ability is a plus."
  • Develop the talent means, "Get the 'artist' a personal trainer, or a good plastic surgeon."
  • Make the album means, "Hire overpriced producers and a skilled engineer to put the whole album together. Vocals can be supplied through computerized methods if necessary."
  • Promote the talent means, "Call up the same two skanky hoes for every video to crawl around on a bed in the background for some ugly punk taht would never get that girl if she wasn't paid to be there."
  • Artist means, "Person that signs a contract and now believes they are supposed to do a few appearanced and get a 'big' check.If person has actual talent, it should not be applied unless absolutely necessary as this may raise public expectations, and thus production costs and care."
  • Industry executive means, "tone deaf with entirely too much authority over the music business."

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

… I’m going to tell you what you already know…

What you already know: Life is short and not to be taken for granted.

Why I’m telling you: Well because reminders can be a good thing.
-When we tell little ones to be careful every time they go out to play.
-When we tell loved ones to travel safely and “call me when you get there”
-When we part from someone special we say, “I love you”

And it doesn’t matter how often we say it because we can never say it too much and we mean it every time. And it’s nice to hear, too, isn’t it? Even the most stoic among us (myself included) secretly like it when someone lets us know that we care. I still smile remembering the one time nearly 10 years ago my mother referred to me as her “sweet pea.” Trust me, this was a big deal.

And who knows if and when our encounters will be the last ever.



Tuesday, May 19, 2009

...You Won't Find Me in the (mother) Hood...

Mother’s Day was last week and it brought up an interesting memory for me about one of those experiences we all have that shape, and sometimes scar us for life.

When I was 8 years old, Santa made good on a promise and delivered a brand new Baby Alive doll.


Baby’s food came in cherry (red), lime (green) and banana (yellow). I mixed her food, put in on her pink plate and fed her. Back then you had to pull this lever on her back to make her “chew” but the lever was a hard plastic that made it a bit of a chore. My dad sprayed WD40 on a cloth and wiped her back to make it easier. Already, she was too much work.


I overfed her, gave her her bottle of water, and waited for her to do her business so I could change her just like on the commercial. About three Christmas morning specials later, Baby was a bit constipated so there was nothing to change. Not wanting to waste a perfectly good diaper, I waited until long after dinner to check her. Still nothing. By now I’m bored and irritated, so my dad gave her a bottle, then another one. Now Mom gives her a bottle and tries to “burp” her. It wasn’t this much work on the commercial; I am now learning what “false advertisement” means.

Dad offered a solution. “I think you made the food too thick. Run some water in the tub and stick her mouth under there to clean her out. You can start fresh tomorrow.” So my sister and I turn on the water and with her bottom aimed at the opposite end of the tub, we lined her mouth up with the faucet and let the water run in.


Oh, the horror.



Monday, May 11, 2009

...I Want You to Stop It...

My Mother’s Day was pretty alright this year even though my mom and I both had allergy sniffles, but other than that it wasn’t bad.

This is kind of a big deal since my mom and I have had our "moments" over the years but as I’ve grown older and learned better how she sees me it has helped improve how we relate to one another. I spent a lot of years thinking she didn’t like me and it turns out she just saw that I was more independent than most kids and treated me as such. Like that little kid you see walking to school in the morning with the parent walking two feet behind them. Parent never says a word unless that kid looks like she’s going to step off the curb without checking both ways first (Well at least you used to see that. I almost never see parents near the schools anymore- what’s going on people?)


Anyway, no matter the nature of our relationship, I have always known that I had a great mom. I know most people think that their mom is great, but really, my mom is one of the best around.


I know because I see things and people all the time that remind me how blessed I am to have had a little home training. I’m sure you see them, too. Kids and grown kids participating in some activity that makes you say “I feel sorry for your mother” a la “Menace to Society” (Or sometimes just “Where is your mother?” like that old JC Penny commercial).

Please feel free to share these Motherly Pearls of Wisdom with those unfortunate souls who clearly suffered some degree of maternal neglect growing up.

Monday, May 4, 2009

... I'm late but I'm here...

Déjà vu like a fuh-mucker.

Twice in the last few months I have run into an old friend and both times the conversation pretty much went the same way.
(insert typical greetings and friendly exchanges after a long separation here)
Old Friend: So how’s the writing thing going? Every time I’m in a bookstore I look for something that could be by you but I have no idea what name you’re writing under. What name you usin?
Angel: Hunh?
Old Friend: What?
Angel: Oh, I thought you said something
(awkward pause)
Old Friend: I just wondered how many books you got published?
Angel: well, I never really got around to-
Old Friend: Oh, so you did decide to go with journalism. Are you at a newspaper or magazine?
Angel: Oh, I uh, uh…. Holy!!! What’s that over there???
Old Friend: What? (spinning around) Where?
Angel flees by foot.


And since nothing clears the head quite like a brisk run, it occurred to me that I’ve been living my life with backward motivation. The decisions I make are based on the end results that I don’t want. This of course means in order to avoid one thing because I think it might be bad, I end up avoiding another thing even though it might be good.