Every Time Harry Meets Sally

"The Way I Am" by Ingrid Michaelson
...if you are chilly, here take my sweater...

In the spirit of maintaining my awareness of others on El Red, I visited some of the blogs I have blog rolled and checked out new postings.

Naked & Natural had a new post that featured a video clip of an artist delivering a poem on HBO's acclaimed show Def Poetry. I had seen the episode before, but like the truth likes to do, it was still true.

The poem is called "To All The Boys I've Love Before: Parts I and II". It was right on time. I just finished discussing with The Working Definition about my negotiations for this new boy/man (They are one in the same to me, synonyms for the same condition).

As I start this new romantic negotiation, more aware, older, wiser, more informed, less expectant, and more resilient, I am still apprehensive and I am still afraid. They say that God does not supply us and does not want us to live with the spirit of fear, but I do not think they know heartache well enough, for if they did, they would be afraid too.

So in watching this poem be born, I remembered that fear, not in overwhelming amounts, is the thing that keeps you from really f*cking up. You will enter that same situation with a caution you never considered exercising before; a caution that could have saved you from whatever pitfall you suffered.

It will not impede my negotiations for those are already in progress, but I will exercise cautious optimism. There will be no hemorrhaging of love or lust even, because I cannot be certain of a transfusion.

Of course, history is haunting and I cried for and over all those boys I loved and I wondered if it was too late to apologize to that girl I have cheated out of so much happiness. I will just do right by me from now on, or at least make a more conscious effort. And yes, I still beieve in love even if I end up only loving myself.

Love with a Fire Read, Part 3

Saving All My Love by Whitney Houston

...but no other man is gonna do / so I'm saving all my love for you...

The problems with this nation I have are:

1. Education: poor communities = poor schools. Schools are unable to acquire the resources necessary to provide a foundation of knowledge for students on which they are to build on for the rest of their lives.

Education is not simply about learning what is in the books before you but also about learning to love to learn, to understand there is no qualification quite like an education, to cross academic boundaries by, for example, finding the relevance of biology in everyday personal interaction, to want others to learn and improve and sophisticate themselves, and more.

If the children leave elementary school unable to read, remembering only an academic struggle, how do we expect them to participate in the higher learning that has become basic learning (as a BA is slowly becoming as useless as a hgh school diploma if one is not already in a trade of professional progam)?

2. Media: Black people look crazy on television, in movies, magazines, the paper, etc., if we are even featured in an episode or issue of the aforemention media material. Our culture is neglected in the media and when it is present, we are likely to look buffoonish or Stepin Fetchi-esque. This is of import because the media are a powerful social tool. It teaches us about the people with whom we have no contact, about ourselves, about how to interact with one another, and more than we are probably not conscious of to name.

To leave out and distort any group of people is dangerous for their socializing. It also dangerous for the group, especially the children. Television babysat my generation when we were young (don't lie...even the most involved parents loved the break that the idiot box provided once the children were captivated). We were born with our imaginations but TV taught us how to stretch it and gave us more items to include it. It is important for children to see themselves reflected positively in the world they live in. And that world no longer just consists of those who are identified as caregivers, other family members, and friends. The media is now apart of the family too.

3. Justice System: The law books include unfair, incongruent, and plainly racist articles in every state and at the federal level. The most conspicuous and popular example would be the drug sentencing laws. "White" drugs (drugs most commonly used in the White community, such as cocaine) warrant less severe penalities than do "Black" drugs (i.e., crack cocaine).

Yes, our cultural consensus says it is bad to use, buy, or sell drugs so those caught should be punished. But there must be a theme of fairness and congruency about the punishments regardless of the offenders race or gender.

The justice system has also been known to be harsher in treatment to Black people regardless of their infraction (if there is one to begin with because sometimes being Black can seem to be a crime). Officers can be more aggressive and likely to use their weapons. Judges can assign more time in incarceration than White defendants may garner for the same or a similar crime.

And there are more but this is not my dissertation. I'll let you know when that comes out.

But because of the aforementioned cultural uglies and the ones I did not mention, I am disenchanted with this America. My Black people are culpable for a whole lot as well, but I feel as though I hear about their culpability enough to not include it here. So while we get our act together, I hope American institutions do to. Until then, I am saving all my Love for Black people, here and abroad...Freetown stand up.

Love with a Fire Read, Part 2

Live Your Life by T.I.

...prioritizing horribly / unhappy with your riches / cuz your piss poor morally...

To be clear, I do not really hate White people but I despise the misuse of the power and privilege they have.

But to be Black, to be educated or at least on the way to being educated, to have options and the possibility of a comfortable future while the people I identify with have a generally bleak existence and future is an insult to my personal progress.

The children and adults who cannot read, the rate of HIV infection in the community, the unstructured homes, the economic dehydration, the crime, the media portrayal and the so much more makes what I am doing, what my classmates are doing, what my parents are doing, what my Black professors are doing seem so negligible.

Not to say we should all stop Living our Lives and join the cast of The Poor, No Hope Black Show but it does make me wonder/doubt.

Even if there are lazy people (which there will always be of every race), criminals, opportunists, manipulators, liars, etc., there are children of a generation big enough to correct all the nonsense when they grow up.

I explain this because my best of friends thinks I put an undeserved stress and blame on White people but I believe it is because she does not know what I really think. It is not about whether John dislikes Joe because he is Black or Ann will not talk to Mary because she is Black. Although that is an upsetting scenario, it is inconsequential compared to other problems we exist under.

Love with a Fire Read, Part 1

Apologize - OneRepublic
...believe me when I say, I still love you...

The Zain is commonly known as angry Black. Ever since the debacle that was high school, I have adopted a racial awareness and sensitivity that has become apart of my identity.

And it is such an invasive awareness that it is terribly conspicuous part of how I think. You need not even know me that well to notice it and feel it.

But I have noticed, sluggishly, that people misunderstand and miscategorize my racial awareness and sensitivity.

I do not hate White people. I do find White culture to be a little annoying and weird, but not all the people subscribe to the culture and those who do, do so to varying degrees. So it would be inappropriate to say "I hate White people", although I have said that and do say that. But I don't mean no harm.

The problem for me lies in the institutions that White people are often the head of, so understandably my hatred seems to be for White people. But I love people. And most people love me. That is one of the earliest things people taught me about myself is that I am likeable. Given the right conversation and context of meeting, almost everyone likes me. If you happen to be someone who I called out and had to reprimand in the biting, ferocious way that I do, then not so much. You might hate me, which is fine. Hate on haters.

I define life as this very difficult and occasionally fulfilling (because it is not so fulfilling for me right now) process in which everyone needs a family to root for, support, care for, and love them. And I don't mean mommy & daddy & brother & uncle & aunty alone, although that is a great scenario too. So White or Black and male or female and child or grown, just wants a family, stability, food, and shelter.

I feel as though people in positions of power neglect that fact about humanity. They seem to be wholly ignorant to the fact that people suffer immeasurably and inexplicably all over the world; and often those ignoramuses are White.

7

"To be honest, I forgot that today was The September 11th. It is my best friends Patrice's 21st birthday. I managed to remember that but I missed such an anniversary of heartbreak. It has only been 7 years and I was old enough to remember the day and its international significance.

Regrettably, I think the nation, Americans have forgotten. The attacks of September 11th don't usually enter my conscious knowledge except for on Septermber 11th or in sparsely occuring conversations about terrorism.

Other than those individuals who lost someone they knew, and some neurotic patriots, I feel like September 11th has left our memory, just as the war has left our memory. It is a little creepy and sad that as I sit here writing my irrelevant blog, texting friends, and listening to music, there are thousands of people I don't know and will probably never meet, fighting in a foreign country, basically, so I have the liberty to write this.

I do not support the war. I believe it commenced under false pretenses and I feel that the troops are being misused and abused and their families are suffering unnecesesarily. America is damaging it diplomatic credibility and compromising its power.

But we all forget there are people fighting. We forget about the day that served as a catalyst for this inevitable war (because they was gon' get this oil and business, no matter what).

Besides the obvious damage that was caused that day, there are a few more, less discussed infractions. Take the picture featured above. I understand the frustrating pain of September 11th. People going about their business, working, traveling, and commuting are suddenly thrust into an intense inferno of culture clash, political strife, and extremist ideology, just by going to work or flying home. It is terrifying that at any moment, at any place, any one of us can become a casuality of ideological warfare.

Nonetheless, such attitudes as is demonstrated in the above photo is dangerous for the struggle against violence and for preventative efforts against future attacks.

Muslims are not inherent terrorists or evil or anything that any other human being is not. As with any group of people, there are functioning extremist parasites that take ideas, theory, postulates, etc. and manipulate them to fit with their own opinions. For example, the Qu'ran does not actually command women to cover themselves head to toe. Men, who excluded women from the interpretation of God and Muhammad's direction, came up with that to curtail lustful thoughts and adulterous or fornicative relationships.

So the Muslims are not to blame. The bottom line is, you can kill as many people as you want. You cannot kill an ideology. And for every 'terrorist' we are convinced is being killed, there are dozens of his or her children who have already accepted the same poisonous philosophy and will commit the same violence.

So the fight is futile. You cannot win against a people who are not afraid to die. Sorry for sounding so liberal, but diplomacy will always be the best policy. But by all means, play cops and robbers for another century.

Kiss and Make Up

Hot 'N Cold by Katy Perry

So the Magical Woman got a new phone. Unfortunately, it is with Verizon, which is actually not that bad, barring the fact that I was really looking forward to the unlimited everything plan that they offer. I am a talkaholic and it sucks to have to keep track of minutes.

Simultaneously, though, I do have a substantial amount of minutes and unlimited text messages, which is always a silver lining. Therefore, stuntin' is still a habit. Go Samsung Glyde.

Katy Perry is this ueber White girl out in the pop world and I love her. Her first single, "I Kissed a Girl" was my shyte. Then yesterday, after dropping Brittany off at class, I heard her second single on the radio, "Hot 'N Cold". That's my jam too. It makes me feel some kind of glamorous and catalyzed.

I imagine getting ready to go out with the girls, crowding in the bathroom, fixing makeup, and everyone stopping to dance and sing when the hook commences. I'm trying to make it my ringtone but I can't find it.

Speaking of phones, it is amazing how connected and relevant and validating a cell phone makes you feel. Not having a phone for the past couple of weeks didn't cause my life to implode but it made me feel a little isolated, alienated even. I know this sounds shallow and very Gen Y of me, but what were people doing before cell phones? It is kind of a scary thought.

You Again

The Rarest Kind.
Location: Northeast, United States
I am a black girl from Detroit- which is nearly a redundant statement. I am also an attorney, currently studying for a second post-grad degree in the Northeast and considering life after school. I am interested in uplifting my people and I still love everyone I have ever loved, which can be problematic. I am for the most part transient, and wondering what home will end up being for me. (Suga Blog: link to your right)

I was out on the internet today, exploring other blogs. I forgot that there are other blogs in the world. I spend so much time working and finessing my own that I have excluded the others. The above passage is an "About Me" about some blogger I found and loved. I too wonder what home will end up being for me.

When I first started, I was always exploring the online literary work of others in order to get an idea about what I was supposed to be doing. Once I felt like I knew what to write, I only consulted myself. I regret that now because people have exquisite blogs that include material, speak from a different kind of view, and deliver a message that I could and would enjoy doing.

My blogs are organized in themes, which is why I have six. Prototypical Behavior is for poetry that inconspicuously reveals what I am feeling or thinking about certain people or situations. It is inconspicuous because I usually do not name anything explicitly so one cannot decipher who or what I am referencing. They are just pretty map of feelings only I have a legend for.

The Working Definition is more like an online journal, although I do not list names in it either. But I describe situations with a little more detail sometimes such that people involved may understand what I am saying.

Walking Down the Street of My Dreams is where I keep track of my reality. I love the whole obsession with celebrities. I think it's a fascinating concept and a testament to the unending craziness of human culture. It's also where I keep all my girl crushes on lock.

Black Hot Blues is reserved for my commentary about Black people, Black culture, racism, sexism as it relates to Black women, and the ilk. I did not want to burden my other blogs with such conversations because I love Black people and I have a lot to say about them, so it was only right to give it its own space.

Big Words, Little Payfes is a secret. Straight like that.

And, of course, Magic Woman is unadulterated me. It is the smörgåsbord, because that is exactly what I am: a Sweedish buffet. It is the capitalist obsessed, shoe shopping, liquor guzzling, tarbaby, intellectual, hilarious me. Because, quiet as it's kept, I'm crazy as hell.