Just Laugh

While I am working on a more prolific post, I thought I would share a few clips that have made me laugh recently.

http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/

Sometimes all you can do is laugh.

The Burden of Choice

After my last post, I found this blog and just had to share:

http://gettingmyvoiceback.wordpress.com/2009/09/21/the-burden-of-choice/

I wish…

I’m still having trouble finding the time and inspiration to express myself on paper.  Today I am thankful for the right and freedom to dream.  I am thankful that at any given moment I can express a desire, and for the most part tomorrow I can change my mind or choose to manifest it into being.  Georgia O Keefe’s lover told her she was here on this earth to paint…to paint…not to breed.  In his mind, and in that time period, women could not have both.  While the decision to breed is something that I might not be able to change my mind on once the ball got rolling…I am still granted the luxury in my lifetime not to have to choose between a career, changing to world, and raising a child..if I so choose.  In honor of my upcoming birthday, I am making wishes-some wishes may be eternal wishes and other wishes may be null and void tomorrow. 

I wish more people got me.  Some days I care and others I do not.  I certainly think the conversation might be more interesting if I had more in common with people, and other times I revel in my obtuseness.

I wish more people used their power for the good of others. 

I wish I was a politician.  I love the idea that politics can be social work with power when done well.

I wish I had a child.  I vacillate on this all the time.  I’m not sure if it matters if I adopt or have my own, but the older I get, the more I feel the clock ticking.

I wish children all over the world didn’t know what it felt like to go hungry.  I wish that all children had parents who understood the importance of unconditional love.  I wish for all children to have the chance to be a child.  I wish all children knew the beauty of laying in the grass and daydreaming, while looking up at the clouds or the stars.

I wish I could enjoy the slowness and beauty of the country and still have the bustle and the culture of the city nearby.  I wish I could have the white sandy beaches of Florida and the vast expanses of mountains and definite seasons of Colorado.

I wish lesbians would unite and lift each other instead of tearing each other apart.  I wish women weren’t so judgemental of each other.  I wish more women could embody the perfect balance of feminine and masculine energies.

I wish I had lived in different time periods to experience them first hand.  I can’t help but dream of being a renaissance woman, a Rubenesque model, a Suffragist, and a  civil rights activist.  I can’t help but wish I could have been a part of the movement that fought for Roe v. Wade or one of the women that threw a punch at Stonewall.

I wish I could make peace with my body and never think about it again.  I wish I could love food as much as I do and my body would still work to do all the things I love indefinitely.

I wish women innately knew and trusted the power they could harness, if they chose to do so.  I wish I didn’t second guess myself and my own abilities and skills on more than one occasion.

I wish I could travel the world to do more good.  I’m still amazed at how a little bit can go a long way.

I wish I could convince my stepdaughters to not make the same mistakes I did.

I wish I had decided to live my truth even sooner.

I wish I could open a drop in center for GLBTQ youth.

I wish I would put my story down on paper and use it to inspire others.  I wish I didn’t dread public speaking (even if I am good at it) and then I would use my voice too.

I wish I had learned the importance of being kind sooner.

I wish I would have worried less and been present more.

I wish I could be a perpetual student and money was no issue.

I wish other girls across the world had the same access to knowledge, freedom of choice, and room to breathe as I have been afforded.

I am blessed beyond belief.  This year I am thankful that I was given a second chance to realize my power and purpose.  What would the world be like if more girls’ left their own unique mark?

I’ve Come to Realize

1. I’ve come to realize that my chest-size…
gets noticed because I don’t try to cover it up. Smart people don’t like their neck to be confined, that is my story and I am sticking to it.

2. I’ve come to realize that my job…
is a calling and life mission, but there still has to be more to my life.

3. I’ve come to realize that when I’m driving…
I should stop texting and reading emails.

4. I’ve come to realize that I need to take more time out…
to be creative and regenerate my soul.

5. I’ve come to realize that I have lost…
myself once and never will again.

6. I’ve come to realize that I hate it when…
I am not heard.

7. I’ve come to realize that if I’m drunk…
I will talk too much. Wait I do that anyway.

8. I’ve come to realize that money…
can make life easier, but without it life still goes on. My proudest and happiest moment was leaving my husband with nothing but $100 and making it all on my own with no one else’s support. Having less makes you be creative.  Money can also be used for the good of others.  A little bit goes a long way in developing countries.  I hope to one day have a job that allows me to use more of my money for the good of others.

9. I’ve come to realize that certain people…
will never change.  Some people will never get it.  And I’m trying to learn it isn’t my job to try and change them.

10. I’ve come to realize that I’ll always …
be luckier and more blessed than most people in this world.

11. I’ve come to realize that my sibling…
has just as much baggage as I do, he just keeps his johari window tightly closed. We are more alike than I’d like to admit.  I’m glad we have found our own little niche with each other, even if I wouldn’t characterize it as close.

12. I’ve come to realize that my mom…
loves me the only way she knows how…and yet I am still very blessed by our relationship.

13. I’ve come to realize that my cell phone…
is a neccessary evil.

14. I’ve come to realize that when I woke up this morning…
I was looking forward to living vicariously through other people’s children today.

15. I’ve come to realize that last night before I went to sleep…
I was quietly content and feeling safe and secure.

17. I’ve come to realize that my dad…
is my everything. He drives me crazy b/c we are too much alike, but he gets me like no one else can.

20. I’ve come to realize that tonight…
I’ll feel maternal pangs.

21. I’ve come to realize that tomorrow…
too many people will die of HIV than neccessary.   There is still no cure.

22. I’ve come to realize that I really want to…
sell everything and join the peace corps to live in developing countries.

24. I’ve come to realize that life…
is exactly as it is supposed to be.

25. I’ve come to realize that this weekend..
will not be long enough to recoop from the week.

26. I’ve come to realize that the music I listen to when I am upset…
is therapy. I have a soundtrack to my life playing in my head all the time.

27. I’ve come to realize that my friends…
can be counted on one hand…and I like it that way. Depth is important.

28. I’ve come to realize that this year…
I have grown in so many ways personally and professionally. I call this phase settling into my bones, and this year followed a few years of coming into my own.   Best memory this year by far is Kenya.  Best development this year has been newfound friendships.

29. I’ve come to realize that my ex…
just is. I’ll refrain from public judgement and I hope good things for all of them.

30. I’ve come to realize that maybe I should…
take the leap in so many different ways.

31. I’ve come to realize that I have to….
live my truth no matter what.

32. I’ve come to realize I don’t understand…..
bigotry, misogny, ignorance, or any kind of injustice.

33. I’ve come to realize my past…
has made me exactly who I am today and I am thankful for that.

34. I’ve come to realize that parties…
will always make me anxious, and therefor are better with close friends.

35. I’ve come to realize that I’m totally terrified…
of failure.

36. I’ve come to realize that my life…
has a larger purpose.

37. I’ve come to realize that my favorite sound is…
is either silence or nature, waves, locusts…etc…but not birds…I don’t like birds.

What have you come to realize?

Voyeur Report-Gonzo and GeckoFest

 

 It’s been awhile since I have written, and I am still trying to make sense of all my thoughts before I finalize them on paper.  In the meantime, enjoy some voyeur pictures that I hope make you laugh.  Where else but Florida?  I’m blessed to live in a place with such great people watching.  Before we get to the good stuff -here is my list of good stuff that I have gratitude for: laying low and catching up on terribly mindless cable series and documentaries, a Labor Day BBQ with newfound friends who appreciate sober fun and no drama, a faraway friend who makes me smile everytime I hear her accent (and who knows just what to say when it comes to advice), nights out with the girls where we do things we should regret but don’t (I’m getting old, thank God we don’t do them too often), the smell of Murphy’s oil soap, cooking a good meal, replanting all my herbs, new patent leather red peekaboo heels that make me feel hot even if I have gained a few pounds, a friend who understands that friendship means not holding back the truth-I love you Mon, dreaming of new challenges and where my next step may take me, afternoon delight, decorating for fall even though my neighbor thinks I am crazy, stolen glasses, closure, and sharing myself with someone who isn’t scared.  Most of all I am so very grateful for the amazing women I have met in the last year who inspire me, challenge me, and support me.  Ok, enough of the gushy stuff- remember I saved the best for last!!

 

 

Blow your own...glass toys at the Industrial Arts Center. Shop owner is going to name the line toys for twats...bad branding decision...but funny

All I am saying is What the Fuck??

Again with the branding choices...I guess stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason

Seriously??? People bring their birds with them to the bar??

 

Bad branding in a gay community..Bayou Bob's Snow Cream Put some South in your Mouth

Look closely cave man costume is made from teddy bears

 

Just plain creepy...cant be good for your body to spray paint it silver

Gonzo is Back-pictures can't even begin to do this man's penis justice

Honest Days Work for an Honest Days Pay

I’m having some of the best days of my life right now.  Can’t you tell?  I haven’t posted much, and it is largely because I have finally climbed out of my head and started living with my heart again.  Cerebral girl is still here having stimulating discussions and solving the world’s problems, but their is a skip in my step and a flutter in my heart. (I know you want to throw up in your mouth a little, so I’ll pause while you contain yourself.)

So, why with all this optimism does my heart feel heavy?

I am both fortunately and unfortunately highly attuned to other peoples’ pain and energies.  As a young child, I was often questioned about why I was crying for no reason.  This was so confusing to me.  How could others not see all the reasons around us to be worried, sad, scared…empathetic?

My heart is heavy for our working class and unemployed.  As a sociologist, I understand we all have a role to fill in society.  I get that we need garbage men and women - and I don’t want to be the one – but someone has to do job.  But I am overwhelmed by the inequities. 

I am overwhelmed by the humanity I see each day.  I live in an urban environment brimming with every walk of life.  Everywhere I turn there are homeless men, women, and families.  There are panhandlers, drug addicts, drunks, and people suffering from mental illness.  There are hustlers, prostitutes, and dealers.  There are yuppies, families, ordinary joes, bohemian artists, and gay partners.  There are businesswomen, activists, and blue collar workers. 

I hear of friends each day that have lost their jobs.  I know of nonprofits closing their doors, and others barely scraping by.  I have colleagues with Master degrees and Ph.D’s with no health insurance.  I have friends and neighbors loading up U-Hauls each weekend as they lose their homes to foreclosure.  I have hardworking friends who are fortunate enough to have  jobs, doing important and honest work, but not even making a living wage.  I frequent mostly mom and pop businesses and worry each day that I will see them disappear from the landscape, outdone by big box stores and restaurants that can’t compare.  I worry about my favorite service people at the laundry or my local bar.  And finally, I lose sleep over how my stepdaughter will ever make ends meet, without an education, and with every obstacle in front of her.

I am overwhelmed by the apathy.  How can we not be outraged by the suffering of our fellow human beings?  The problems seem too daunting to even begin to solve them. Why yes…the world is a mess, but I know we can all make a difference if we try.  I’ve shared this quote before, but it is worth sharing again:

“Overcoming poverty is not a task of charity; it is an act of justice.  Like slavery and apartheid, poverty is not natural.  It is man-made and it can be overcome and eradicated by the actions of human beings.  Sometimes it falls on a generation to be that great generation.  Let your greatness blossom.” -Nelson Mandella

Speechless

For once in my life….

I cannot find the words to articulate the astonishing swell of emotions swirling inside of me.

Good ones, bad ones, and everything in the inbetween…a dichotomy is building to a crescendo.

Some emotions are intimately connected to my life and experiences, and others are a function of my empathetic connection with humanity that I cannot sever.

These are the things I am feeling:  joy, surprise, acceptance, anticipation, optimism, love, longing, contentment, pleasure, excitement, wonder, security, respect, hope, understood, freedom, generous, caring, and fufilled. 

I am also filled with: fear, sadness, anger, disappointment, submission, shame, and nervousness.

I am grateful for: the little old lady riding the 3 wheeled bicycle with a funny hat on, good friends, stimulating conversations, new starts, late night walks on the beach, feeling the breeze on my skin while lying naked in my courtyard watching the movement of the clouds, feeling adored, and the quiet knowing that everything happens for a reason.

I Want To Be A Pilot

I saw this 15 minute short documentary on Sundance that was a poem written by a kid in the slums of Kibera in Kenya.  It was so moving, I had to share it.  The words alone are wrenching, but imagine them set to the images of the world’s second largest slum.  Children roaming without parents, hungry, no clean water, no shoes, trash and sewage everywhere.  Learn more and then do something, locally or globally.

My name is Omondi

It means when I was born I woke up my mother early in the morning

I am twelve years old, I live in Kibera, the biggest slum in East Africa

My last meal was on Sunday, today is Wednesday

I want to be a pilot, to fly very high, far away from the ghetto

to a place where kids have parents that do not die of HIV everyday,

to a place far away, where guardians of orphan kids do not abuse us everyday,

to a place far away, where I am treated as well as white people are,

I want to be a pilot, to wear a uniform and fly very high

to a place far away, where I don’t need charity from distance lands,

to a place far away, where white men cannot test medicines on us,

to a place far away, where the elected leaders stop filling their pockets and start caring for us,

to a place far away, where there are school books, so that one day I can fly far away,

I want to be a pilot, it must feel so good to go places,

 where I can walk barefoot on the green grass, where water is clean with rivers and springs,

where I can feel the sun shining on me.

I want to be a pilot, so I can fly very very high, so I can take off and land where my dreams are.

to a place far away, where God just loves me, and churches are just the mountains, the trees, the rivers.

Yes, my dream is to fly far away, to a place where my suffering can end.

I want to be a pilot, to wear a uniform, to go places,

where others are not afraid to playwith me because I am HIV positive,

where I can lead a simple life, where there is a future. 

I want to be a pilot, so I can fly to a place far away,

where my mum and dad are, so they can hug me, so they can kiss me, so they can love me, so I can hug them, so I kiss them, so I can love them.

Thank you.

“Overcoming poverty is not a task of charity; it is an act of justice.  Like slavery and apartheid, poverty is not natural.  It is man-made and it can be overcome and eradicated by the actions of human beings.  Sometimes it falls on a generation to be that great generation.  Let your greatness blossom.” -Nelson Mandella

A Kiberian boy at church when I was there in March

 

 

A Safe Place to Land

I don’t want to forget a thing.  I’m old enough to know that they will be gone one day; and yet young enough to still need them.  There are a hundred things they do that yield distaste and snickers in me all at once. I’m completely ambiguous about how these two beings created someone like me.  When I was young, my brother would taunt me and insist I was adopted.  I didn’t believe his lies even for a minute, not even as a young child; as he too was and still is an odd duck that doesn’t quite fit either.  Much more likely, these two perfectly flawed people created two unique individuals that never fit the mold, and thankfully they never demanded it.  While I know they find both of our lives complicated and perplexing, they are smart enough to recognize our choices are simply that-ours.  The life we live may not be they life they would have chosen for us, they know they raised free spirited children that must be allowed the space to make mistakes.  Here are a few of the things (the good, the bad, and the ugly) I hope I can infix in my memory forever:

 

How my mom loves to camp more than anything else.  Her eyes gleam in a way I don’t know that I saw often enough growing up.  My dad says she needs the time to rejuvenate.  I think we all do.

 

Sometimes my dad snaps at my mom.  (I am definitely his daughter as I am known for this.)  She asks him to do something and he peevishly replies “Why don’t you scream next time.”  Another time she asks for something 3 times and then he says “I didn’t hear you.”  I know why she raises her voice.  I can’t stand to repeat myself.

 

They are competitive rivals.  They love to play card games and keep score over years at a time.  On RV trips they use clothespins to keep up with who has beaten their opponent over the preceding days. 

 

My mom stirs the pot too often for my dad’s taste, and my dad turns the grilling meat too often for my mom’s partiality.  The small things, like this, irritate each of them on some level.  And yet, they each share a wellspring of patience and kindness when it comes to much more copious provocations.

 

My dad actually licked food off of his shirt today and then said, “I didn’t know I was going to get it on me.”

 

My mom has an adventurous spirit that she keeps bottled up.  She is happy to trek off into the woods just to look at the varieties of plants and vegetation.  She also knows the names of more plants than anybody I know.  I have always enjoyed camping trips, hikes, and landscaping with her, because I admire this trait and wonder where she picked up this knowledge.

 

 They stop at each state’s official rest stop and pick up 100 or more brochures and pamphlets.  My dad’s OCD ensures that said brochures will all stay neatly organized in the appropriate bag for that state.  My mom’s disarray will make sure that all of the brochures are looked through and left askew next to her chair.  No worries, though.  The OCD will kick in and order will inevitably return.

 

Oddly enough, my dad doesn’t have the type of OCD that worries about germs.  It drives my mother crazy that he washes the dishes with cold water and no soap.  She has not a drop of OCD to complain of, but goes behind him and properly cleans the dishes.  It drives me crazy that my dad doesn’t notice sometimes that his nose is dripping, or that he doesn’t always cover his mouth when he sneezes.  Maybe I got the germ phobic type of OCD.

 

They both recognize that although I love them, they make me crazy; at least we are able to laugh about it.  Many conversations start something like this…”So which trip was the one that was the craziest one?”

 

My dad is one of the most obstinate people I know.  (I think I must have gotten this from him too.)  He asks how I like the emails he has been sending.  I promptly tell him that I don’t.  I proceed to tell him he could get in trouble for some of those emails about immigrants and the government, etc. and shouldn’t read them or forward them from work.  My mom agrees.  He argues there is nothing racist about them, immigrants are costing us money.  I persist with my confrontation and tell him the emails could have viruses.  He finally admits his computer was taken away once at work after he sent something about Obama, the president, and the commander in chief.  He then proudly proclaims, “And I’m not going to stop reading or sending those emails.  I’ll keep doing it if I want to and you can’t stop me.”

 

I hurt my wrist and my mom allows me to be a child again.  I hope I never get too old for her to make me an ice pack and then invite me to lie on her shoulder while we watch a movie.  These tender moments remind me that at the end of the day she loves me in her own way, the only way she knows.

 They share a dance of intimacy that has been perfected over many years with all of its trials and tribulations.  Being witness to this dance fills me with hope.  As I drive away, I am grounded, teary and happy in a quiet way.   Some things never change, and sometimes that isn’t such a bad thing.  I can only aspire to afford the same safe landing place for my stepdaughter that they have provided for me all these years.  And for that safe place to land, I am eternally grateful.

Beautiful Chaos

Sometimes the universe nudges us and we don’t listen.  Sometimes it feels like the universe then ups the ante until the signs become a crescendo and the world is screaming “Hello, don’t you get it now?”  I am uncharacteristically paralyzed by fear; I am covering my ears and eyes like the monkey that can hear no evil, see no evil.  I feel like one of my plants.  It has only been a few years, but my pot is too small and I have become root bound.  I am all tangled and soon the life will be strangled out of me, if I don’t spread my tentacles in a bigger space that will allow for new growth.  How many signs does it take?  3 breakups, 2 pet deaths, 3 car thefts?  Even positive events seem to be pointing me in different direction-2 promotions and many dollars later, and yet somehow recently my best asset, my passion, has eluded me. 

My car was stolen-again.  60 hours later, I am starting to accept it probably isn’t going to be found.  I love my historic apartment with architectural details in my eclectic and diverse neighborhood close to the margins.  I know it is time to take the leap, but I feel like kicking and screaming.  I had a five year plan and I achieved it.  But now I am in the great in between, and don’t like the dubious hesitancy I am feeling this moment.  If I was a believer in the rapture, maybe I would feel some false sense of security.  Who cares if the world in going to end in 2012 anyway??  I could rationalize that all these events were just preparation for some greater experience.

Truth be told, I know that apocalypse or not, these experiences are all preparation for the next big thing.  There are so many questions in my head that I am still yet unwilling to consider or disclose.  I have always been a risk taker.  I have always lived my life with purpose and zeal.  I have come through so much and always landed on my feet. 

For now, I don’t have to have all the answers.  I am going to retreat.   I am going to go away to the wilderness for a few days.  I am going to lie in a hammock and read and ponder.  I will snorkel with the manatees and relax in 72 degree crystal blue springs.  I will let my mother and father ground me in a way only they can.  (Let’s hope anyway, it could go the opposite way.  Oh great universe, please whisper to them what my needs are and influence their words and actions to be gentle.)    All of this beautiful chaos will be here when I get back.  Eventually, I will embrace every emotion, and find the words to articulate a plan that only I have to be agreeable to. 

What a great place to be, eh?  I get to design the life I really want and I just have to have the courage to then put one foot in front of the other to make it materialize.