A powerful excerpt from Ntozake Shange's Sassafrass, Cypress & Indigo:
Otis (reading from his book)
Ebony Cunt: for my mama and my grandma and all the women I rammed in Macon, Georgia when I was visitin' my cousins at age sixteen:
The white man want you/ the Indian run off with you
Spaniards created whole nations with you/ black queensilk snatch
I wander all in your wombs and make babies in the Bronx when I come/ you screammmmmmm/ jesus/ my blk man
ebony cunt is worth all the gold in the world / 15 millions of your shinin' blk bodies crossed the sea to bring all that good slick pussy to me...
Mitch
Sassafrass, what's wrong with you? Sit down. Otis gotta finish the book; he isn't even done with the first page...
Sassafrass (standing still)
Just one god-damned minute, Mitch. You gotta mother you supposedly love so much, and daughter by a black woman who won't see you...and you got me all messed up, and tryin' to make you happy...god damn it, I don't haveta listen to this shit. I am not interested in your sick, sick, weakly rhapsodies about all the women you fucked in all your damn lives...I don't like it.
I am not about to sit heah and listen to a bunch of no account niggahs talk about black women; me and my sisters; like we was the same bought and sold at slave auction...breeding heifers the white man created 'cause y'all was frascinated by some god damn beads he brought you on the continent...muthafuckahs.
Yeah, that's right; muthafuckahs, don't you ever sit in my house and ask me to celebated my inherited right to be raped. Goddamn muthafuckahs. Don't you know about anything' besides taking women off, or is that really all you good for?
Ummm, hmmm.
R.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Universe, Calling
Fast forward two and a half weeks. New home (Washington DC), new people (along with the old-faithful), new station in life (organizing to law school, an "Obama reverse").
As I can, I walk a little over a mile from American's main campus to law school in the mornings. During the last couple of days, I've passed a grassy field occupied by teen, female, soccer players. They are clustered around an evidently confident coach who is bestowing instructions. Indeed, I have descended upon none other than soccer camp, and I cannot help but take a deep sigh. My heart glows! I was once among them, almost ten years ago. And it suddenly dawns on me that when attending summer camp that I was training for the Sydeny Olympics. That is, before I quit.
In earlier posts I've alluded to my bygone "athletic" days that I have recently reclaimed. I think, however, that I've seldom shared why I let it go. It's complicated. Yet, in short, a combination of factors, including the pressure-cooking-competitive environment of the girls soccer Olympic track, created an irreconcilable distance between my passion for the game and where I found myself only seven short years later. So when a National team coach lectured us after an exceptionally hard practice when I was 13 about the choice we had to make: either battling our way to the top 1% or deciding that we wanted "to do other things." He didn't have to tell me twice...
About ten minutes later I'm in a law classroom.
I know that these exam preparation tips are important but I made a discovery. At 23, I've claimed three primary identities (though, each has always been very present when not primary). From the time I could walk to 14, I was an athlete. Once I left soccer until last year, I was a justice-seeker/activist. Now, I can feel myself evolving into a new primary identity of which I cannot quite name yet. Maybe "intellectual?" "Scholar?" I dunno. But it entails a lot of mental lifting and flexing.
I'm aware that such changes are very normal during the course of one's lifetime. I guess it's peculiar being conscience of it while it is happening, particularly when you're not (chronologically) old.
The important part, though, about this discovery is my internal restless that has been my self-sabotage. I haven't achieved my full potential yet. When unsatisified or unchallenged, I usually more onto the next thing. I don't regret this. Instead, I've been waiting for the right moment. This time is apparently now.
When I sat in the classroom this past week, parsing legal concepts and turning over ideas, I realized that I'm well-suited for this challenge--intellectually and emotionally. I will take it upon myself to exercise a degree of discipline and finally, for the first time in my life, realize my full self. Call it, redemption.
Inspired,
R.
As I can, I walk a little over a mile from American's main campus to law school in the mornings. During the last couple of days, I've passed a grassy field occupied by teen, female, soccer players. They are clustered around an evidently confident coach who is bestowing instructions. Indeed, I have descended upon none other than soccer camp, and I cannot help but take a deep sigh. My heart glows! I was once among them, almost ten years ago. And it suddenly dawns on me that when attending summer camp that I was training for the Sydeny Olympics. That is, before I quit.
In earlier posts I've alluded to my bygone "athletic" days that I have recently reclaimed. I think, however, that I've seldom shared why I let it go. It's complicated. Yet, in short, a combination of factors, including the pressure-cooking-competitive environment of the girls soccer Olympic track, created an irreconcilable distance between my passion for the game and where I found myself only seven short years later. So when a National team coach lectured us after an exceptionally hard practice when I was 13 about the choice we had to make: either battling our way to the top 1% or deciding that we wanted "to do other things." He didn't have to tell me twice...
About ten minutes later I'm in a law classroom.
I know that these exam preparation tips are important but I made a discovery. At 23, I've claimed three primary identities (though, each has always been very present when not primary). From the time I could walk to 14, I was an athlete. Once I left soccer until last year, I was a justice-seeker/activist. Now, I can feel myself evolving into a new primary identity of which I cannot quite name yet. Maybe "intellectual?" "Scholar?" I dunno. But it entails a lot of mental lifting and flexing.
I'm aware that such changes are very normal during the course of one's lifetime. I guess it's peculiar being conscience of it while it is happening, particularly when you're not (chronologically) old.
The important part, though, about this discovery is my internal restless that has been my self-sabotage. I haven't achieved my full potential yet. When unsatisified or unchallenged, I usually more onto the next thing. I don't regret this. Instead, I've been waiting for the right moment. This time is apparently now.
When I sat in the classroom this past week, parsing legal concepts and turning over ideas, I realized that I'm well-suited for this challenge--intellectually and emotionally. I will take it upon myself to exercise a degree of discipline and finally, for the first time in my life, realize my full self. Call it, redemption.
Inspired,
R.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
A God Interview
Today I was reading The Sun magazine, my last one from my subscription. I came upon a real interesting article by Sparrow called "My God Journal." I'd like to share the final entry because it made me smile:
"Today, after numerous requests and negotiations with God's publicist, God agreed to speak with me, briefly:
Sparrow: Why is there evil?
God: Evil emerges from the imaginations of men -- and I use the word men advisedly. Only about one in eight hundred thousand women in evil.
Sparrow: How can a person become closer to you?
God: The possibilities are endless, but I recommend singing. After all, I invented song. If you go to the jungles of Peru, do you see churches? No. But you do hear joyous singing.
Sparrow: You mean the birds?
God: Yes, birds are my greatest achievement. They fly and sing.
Sparrow: What about humans?
God: A bit disappointing. I had no idea you would invest television. But I do approve of electric lights.
Sparrow: Why?
God: They are gorgerous at night when seen from the sky.
Sparrow: Do you really live above the clouds?
God: Of course not.
Sparrow: Where do you live, then?
God: In the hearts of pious interviewers like yourself! [Laughs.]
[God's publicist indicates that I have time for one last question.]
Sparrow: What is the meaning of life?
God: [Indistinct.]
Sparrow: What did you say?
God: Forget it. You wouldn't understand anyway.
[Here God's publicist signals that the interview is over.]
"Today, after numerous requests and negotiations with God's publicist, God agreed to speak with me, briefly:
Sparrow: Why is there evil?
God: Evil emerges from the imaginations of men -- and I use the word men advisedly. Only about one in eight hundred thousand women in evil.
Sparrow: How can a person become closer to you?
God: The possibilities are endless, but I recommend singing. After all, I invented song. If you go to the jungles of Peru, do you see churches? No. But you do hear joyous singing.
Sparrow: You mean the birds?
God: Yes, birds are my greatest achievement. They fly and sing.
Sparrow: What about humans?
God: A bit disappointing. I had no idea you would invest television. But I do approve of electric lights.
Sparrow: Why?
God: They are gorgerous at night when seen from the sky.
Sparrow: Do you really live above the clouds?
God: Of course not.
Sparrow: Where do you live, then?
God: In the hearts of pious interviewers like yourself! [Laughs.]
[God's publicist indicates that I have time for one last question.]
Sparrow: What is the meaning of life?
God: [Indistinct.]
Sparrow: What did you say?
God: Forget it. You wouldn't understand anyway.
[Here God's publicist signals that the interview is over.]
Another Shade of a Pale Color
My future housemates will enjoy this little ditty. We've had several conversations about our respective sun-moon signs. Using a couple of online resources I discovered that I am a Taurus-Libra. Sometime soon, I'd like to compare this analysis to my earlier Chinese astrology findings.
A timely conversation, indeed. In response to a question that I have been asked a lot lately, "What do you want to do after law school?" I may say, "Become a writer, sound artist, radio journalist or perhaps, a lawyer." All equally considering all four. Below may explain:
2-7 Taurus/Libra
The combination of your Sun sign and your Moon sign produces one of the most likable personalities in the Zodiac. Others may have more wit, ambition, or intellect, but none equal the charm and appeal of this combination. A nice home and a close family are your first loves; social contact and involvement, a close second.
Your keen social personality is aided by a fine sense of humor and an easygoing outlook. This personality is marked with optimism, even if you're up to your ears in private woes. Anyone that doesn't like you is probably motivated by jealousy. You are expressive and idealistic, your nature is inclined toward the dramatic and the artistic. Though your positive attitude allows you to accomplish a great deal when you settle down to work, when forced to face the world of fact and figures and engage in anything that restricts your creative talents, you can never really be happy.
You can never handle conflict matters very well as you suffer from nervous tension when placed in a confrontation situation or hostility of any kind. Your great sense of balance and harmony constantly protects you from ever go off the deep end. You may have a wide range of emotional responses from rapturous joy when you are happily with a special someone in a solid relationship, to almost going to pieces when you are confronted by hostility and forced to react to it.
A timely conversation, indeed. In response to a question that I have been asked a lot lately, "What do you want to do after law school?" I may say, "Become a writer, sound artist, radio journalist or perhaps, a lawyer." All equally considering all four. Below may explain:
2-7 Taurus/Libra
The combination of your Sun sign and your Moon sign produces one of the most likable personalities in the Zodiac. Others may have more wit, ambition, or intellect, but none equal the charm and appeal of this combination. A nice home and a close family are your first loves; social contact and involvement, a close second.
Your keen social personality is aided by a fine sense of humor and an easygoing outlook. This personality is marked with optimism, even if you're up to your ears in private woes. Anyone that doesn't like you is probably motivated by jealousy. You are expressive and idealistic, your nature is inclined toward the dramatic and the artistic. Though your positive attitude allows you to accomplish a great deal when you settle down to work, when forced to face the world of fact and figures and engage in anything that restricts your creative talents, you can never really be happy.
You can never handle conflict matters very well as you suffer from nervous tension when placed in a confrontation situation or hostility of any kind. Your great sense of balance and harmony constantly protects you from ever go off the deep end. You may have a wide range of emotional responses from rapturous joy when you are happily with a special someone in a solid relationship, to almost going to pieces when you are confronted by hostility and forced to react to it.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
A Little Thing
I'm aware that many of you -- my robust readership -- has noted my absence this month. But I've already apologized to both of you so I won't dwell...
It has been an undoubtedly busy month as I undergo a life makeover with a couple of family events wedged in between "life" and "makeover." (Or more accurately for Faithful family event between "life" and "over.")
However, today, I wish to report one thing. A little, funny thing.
I was driving down Furnace Road approaching Ox Road (Rt. 123) breezing into a right hand turn lane at 45 mph. I see something moving! I wheel just to the right to avoid it, as I squint harder into my rearview mirror, the image becomes clearer. A turtle?
Yes. And clearly a suicidal one slowly inching its way into the middle lane.
After a moment of self-consciousness, I brake, put the car in park, tap the hazard light, and leap out of the car. As it so happens only one car passes me as I run fifty yards toward the turtle, scoop it up, and place it on the grassy surface on the other side of the road.
I swore that I heard an approaching car hit its gas when I crossed the median upon returning my car. He saw me set down the turtle and I reason, must have been a Republican.
I hope that the turtle is safe. I'm not always inclined to interrupt life around me, but then again, the four lane road is no one's natural habitat.
And life goes on.
It has been an undoubtedly busy month as I undergo a life makeover with a couple of family events wedged in between "life" and "makeover." (Or more accurately for Faithful family event between "life" and "over.")
However, today, I wish to report one thing. A little, funny thing.
I was driving down Furnace Road approaching Ox Road (Rt. 123) breezing into a right hand turn lane at 45 mph. I see something moving! I wheel just to the right to avoid it, as I squint harder into my rearview mirror, the image becomes clearer. A turtle?
Yes. And clearly a suicidal one slowly inching its way into the middle lane.
After a moment of self-consciousness, I brake, put the car in park, tap the hazard light, and leap out of the car. As it so happens only one car passes me as I run fifty yards toward the turtle, scoop it up, and place it on the grassy surface on the other side of the road.
I swore that I heard an approaching car hit its gas when I crossed the median upon returning my car. He saw me set down the turtle and I reason, must have been a Republican.
I hope that the turtle is safe. I'm not always inclined to interrupt life around me, but then again, the four lane road is no one's natural habitat.
And life goes on.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Just Tryin' To Help You Out
Human brain, human mind. We have millions of chemically related neurotransmitters entangled with one another. We have intractable beliefs, evolutionarily designed desires, and meticulously sensed perceptions.
Help! My central nervous system has been hijacked. This is rare for me.
It's like a glitch in my brain, a broken record in my mind. A songcalled Hamoa Beach by Gomez is stuck between my ears.
I'm not really complaining. It's a great song. But what's going on?
That's just the fear talking
That just the fear talking
That's just the fear
Don't let it take you
Like it nearly took me, fear
Don't let it fool you
Like it nearly fooled me, fear
Remember the good old days
But love is like a dragonfly
So beautiful, it will die
And disappear before your eyes
I'm no philosopher
I am no poet
I'm just trying to help you out
Don't let it fool you
Like it nearly fooled me, fear
Don't let it take you
Like it nearly took me
http://www.last.fm/music/Gomez/_/Hamoa+Beach
I've made a choice not to consider why the italicized lyrics are running through my subsoncious like a treadmill belt. I've acknowledged and appreciated them: here is my new life motto.
Conscious mental note. You already contain answers about yourself.
Help! My central nervous system has been hijacked. This is rare for me.
It's like a glitch in my brain, a broken record in my mind. A song
I'm not really complaining. It's a great song. But what's going on?
That's just the fear talking
That just the fear talking
That's just the fear
Don't let it take you
Like it nearly took me, fear
Don't let it fool you
Like it nearly fooled me, fear
Remember the good old days
But love is like a dragonfly
So beautiful, it will die
And disappear before your eyes
I'm no philosopher
I am no poet
I'm just trying to help you out
Don't let it fool you
Like it nearly fooled me, fear
Don't let it take you
Like it nearly took me
http://www.last.fm/music/Gomez/_/Hamoa+Beach
I've made a choice not to consider why the italicized lyrics are running through my subsoncious like a treadmill belt. I've acknowledged and appreciated them: here is my new life motto.
Conscious mental note. You already contain answers about yourself.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
The Dental Experience
About four months ago I stepped into Springfield-Lorton Dental in desperate need for a check-up. It had been a long time. Yes, college had done me in. It had been a very, long time.
I stroll into the sparking, modern office to the granite front desk. I steal a glance at the name placard to make sure that I was in the right place. "Springfield-Lorton Dental." Great. Not a cosmetic surgeon.
Approaching the granite front desk, I'm greeted by a pleasant "Hi. How're you?" On the other side of the beautiful granite front desk, I see a gorgeous 20-something woman with bright eyes and shampoo commercial hair. "I'm great," I say calmly. I notice her counterpart at the check-out side of the desk: 20 something, blonde hair, blue-eyed bombshell.
Toto, we are no longer in Kansas.
I'm handed a clipboard attached with all of the arduous paperwork burdened by the first visit. I patiently fill it out in the waiting room. I snatched a Deer Park water in the small steel refrigerator next to a granite side table once I reasoned that they were free and they were for me!
The front-desk woman thanks me for returning the clipboard (as if I was planning to run out with it selfishly sprinting through the medical center parking lot happy to have a victory against "the system?") when she flashed a smile. Of course, a million dollar smile (OK, more like 20K one). I thought: Am I awake?
At last, my dentist (actually, dentist assistant) beckons me from the waiting room. She, too, is stunningly attractive. I practically floated toward her, toward the beaming light...
The light? More like an x-ray. My routine exam was a couple of hours of poking, prodding, and other strange things you let beautiful women do to your mouth with sharp objects.
I needed 10K worth of it. How unfortunate.
Two months ago I made a brief visit for some initial work--cleaning, cancer screening. Just as shiny, different women, though, all less than a hand older than me and gorgeous, including my dentist. I haven't detected testosterone yet. This place was made for me!
Yesterday was like any other visit but even better. Dentistry was never so gratifying. First, I was able to submit my new dental insurance (thank you, VOP) which covered the majority of my work. New women, all young and attractive. This time I am helped by a classically stunning Indian woman. She fixed me up for the procedure while we chatted about the holidays. I forgot her name but I do remember her country of origin. She was impressed as I unloaded my pockets on the sitting chair.
I hardly noticed most of the procedure since I had a private screen with Will & Grace episodes playing for the hour and a half. It was admittedly difficult not to laugh during the drilling. Ouch.
We stopped a couple of times where in a particularly eerie way I felt giant holes in my front teeth with my tongue. The first time I thought I was finished, sitting there with the entire backs of my front teeth missing; I officially was worried.
But we went on! Finally, I was finished. And imagine that? Three fillings became five. (The good news being that I've stopped a lot of damage with my new dental routine.)
:Angels singing: I left the dentist's office with a better smile (approximately a thousand dollar improved one). A bit swollen. A bit numbed. A bit bloody. Yet I had heavier front teeth and I'm told this is a positive outcome.
I look forward to my next dental visit.
I stroll into the sparking, modern office to the granite front desk. I steal a glance at the name placard to make sure that I was in the right place. "Springfield-Lorton Dental." Great. Not a cosmetic surgeon.
Approaching the granite front desk, I'm greeted by a pleasant "Hi. How're you?" On the other side of the beautiful granite front desk, I see a gorgeous 20-something woman with bright eyes and shampoo commercial hair. "I'm great," I say calmly. I notice her counterpart at the check-out side of the desk: 20 something, blonde hair, blue-eyed bombshell.
Toto, we are no longer in Kansas.
I'm handed a clipboard attached with all of the arduous paperwork burdened by the first visit. I patiently fill it out in the waiting room. I snatched a Deer Park water in the small steel refrigerator next to a granite side table once I reasoned that they were free and they were for me!
The front-desk woman thanks me for returning the clipboard (as if I was planning to run out with it selfishly sprinting through the medical center parking lot happy to have a victory against "the system?") when she flashed a smile. Of course, a million dollar smile (OK, more like 20K one). I thought: Am I awake?
At last, my dentist (actually, dentist assistant) beckons me from the waiting room. She, too, is stunningly attractive. I practically floated toward her, toward the beaming light...
The light? More like an x-ray. My routine exam was a couple of hours of poking, prodding, and other strange things you let beautiful women do to your mouth with sharp objects.
I needed 10K worth of it. How unfortunate.
Two months ago I made a brief visit for some initial work--cleaning, cancer screening. Just as shiny, different women, though, all less than a hand older than me and gorgeous, including my dentist. I haven't detected testosterone yet. This place was made for me!
Yesterday was like any other visit but even better. Dentistry was never so gratifying. First, I was able to submit my new dental insurance (thank you, VOP) which covered the majority of my work. New women, all young and attractive. This time I am helped by a classically stunning Indian woman. She fixed me up for the procedure while we chatted about the holidays. I forgot her name but I do remember her country of origin. She was impressed as I unloaded my pockets on the sitting chair.
I hardly noticed most of the procedure since I had a private screen with Will & Grace episodes playing for the hour and a half. It was admittedly difficult not to laugh during the drilling. Ouch.
We stopped a couple of times where in a particularly eerie way I felt giant holes in my front teeth with my tongue. The first time I thought I was finished, sitting there with the entire backs of my front teeth missing; I officially was worried.
But we went on! Finally, I was finished. And imagine that? Three fillings became five. (The good news being that I've stopped a lot of damage with my new dental routine.)
:Angels singing: I left the dentist's office with a better smile (approximately a thousand dollar improved one). A bit swollen. A bit numbed. A bit bloody. Yet I had heavier front teeth and I'm told this is a positive outcome.
I look forward to my next dental visit.
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