Today me and the kid sisters went to see the funniest movie I have ever seen. Juno. Seriously entertaining. I have never laughed out loud so many times in a single movie. So funny. Really amazing how they could make such a serious topic so funny. The main character, Juno, is hilarious. And they have The Moldy Peaches doing one of the main songs of the movie. That group is hilarious.
We saw the movie at Frontenac Plaza -- for those of you who don't know, Frontenac is the Beverly Hills of St.L. I counted about 5 sets of black people there -- two of them were working there. Even the cars in the parking lot were flashy, though I did see several newer Toyotas. We saw one Buick that just seemed out of place. We figured it must have been the help.
The mall is really quite nice. If I was a shopper, I would go there to do my shopping. Who can't like a mall where they serve Toblerone chocolate at the movie concession stand along with wine and a full bar. Full bar. I don't like seeing movies at theatres, but have seen a couple there and enjoy the experience.
After thoroughly enjoying the movie we were leaving back through the mall. In the parking lot I got to feel that feeling that only comes when you experience a near death experience. We were pulling out of our parking spot, which was right at the entry to the parking garage. A dark colored BMW started pulling into the garage at a relatively slow pace, then seemed to accelerate when he realized that we were people with melanin and in a lowly 2006 Corolla. He did not slow down. He was coming at us (really kid sis's numbers 2 and 3 since they were on that side of the vehicle but it was still frightening for me regardless). I looked into the man's eyes and felt like I was looking into the eyes of a man who knew that he had enough money to pay for all of our funerals after he accomplished his goal; a man who knew that his good insurance would pay for all the damages to his car and to his person; a man who, even if his insurance and the doctor's he would fly in to perform his reconstructive surgeries were not successful, knew that his AARP membership would help him to obtain one of those special scooters to get around on (at no cost to him) so that even if he could no longer drive a car, he could still terrorize people of color and young people by revving his scooter fast toward them as they are forced off the sidewalk or against the nearest wall.
When people do crazy things close to the new year my grandparents say "They don't have enough money to see the new year!" This man knows that I'm not super well off and don't do super crazy stuff on my own, so he wanted to go ahead and take me out before the new year.
It almost ruined my afternoon, until I remembered some lines from the movie and thought of some Moldy Peaches songs, and was once again laughing out loud.
My heartbeat slowed, my pits dried, and it was, once again, just another sunny Sunday afternoon.
30 December 2007
29 December 2007
Message
In the movie "Don't Be A Menace While Drinking Your Juice in the Hood", Keenan Ivory Wayans constantly comes out saying "Message" whenever something is being said in a somewhat underlying way.
This is a message that is not so hidden.
The delivery is a bit harsh, but the message is very true.
Keep up with the news people. Look beyond the basic news sources. Get informed. Get angry. Then get out and vote when the time comes.
His other videos are also a bit interesting, too.
And can someone please explain to me why Schnucks (grocery store) is asking people to donate money so that people don't have to choose between eating and having heat when they could easily just donate a gang of food themselves. Help me understand.
This is a message that is not so hidden.
The delivery is a bit harsh, but the message is very true.
Keep up with the news people. Look beyond the basic news sources. Get informed. Get angry. Then get out and vote when the time comes.
His other videos are also a bit interesting, too.
And can someone please explain to me why Schnucks (grocery store) is asking people to donate money so that people don't have to choose between eating and having heat when they could easily just donate a gang of food themselves. Help me understand.
27 December 2007
Boxing Day Glitterati
Yesterday I celebrated Boxing Day with the fam. Traditionally a UK-ish holiday of giving gifts to people you work with, we have made it our own. We actually punch each other on this day. I do not totally remember how we started doing it -- I think it was when we were in Nigeria and saw the day on someone's calendar. We did not know what it was really for, so we took advantage of the holiday to punch our siblings and cousins incessantly. Good times. Fortunately none of us bruise easily.
I had an experience last night which made me understand again how some gifts truly keep on giving. I was sitting talking with Leo and noticed that I had a piece of glitter on the skin between my big toe and the second toe. Glitter. Who thought of this product? It must have been a person with a serious vendetta against all the people they contacted and all they people those people would come in contact with.
The mentoring group I am involved with at school had us give our mentees a card with a message on it to share with the youth what we see in them. (Only the positive things) On the card was the "mascot" of the group covered in glitter. Covered in glitter. So much glitter that when the lady first offered it to me and told me I would have to write a message on it, I really wanted to tell her that I was resigning from the organization. I cannot stand glitter.
Once you come in contact with glitter, it never really goes away. I've never had it, but I hear when people get lice they have to wash really well -- their bodies, their combs, their sheets, their pillows, basically everything they come in contact with. Glitter is the same way, only worse. I delicately touched only the tip of the card, made sure no glitter stayed on the tip of my pen, handed the card off to someone even more cautiously. I came home that day and cut off more of my hair. Washed it very thoroughly. I have since washed the clothes I had on that day twice.
Despite all the precautions, almost two weeks later I come across a piece of said glitter on my toe. I have not received anything else (nor would I have accepted anything else) with glitter on it, so it is all from the contact with a gift that was supposed to stick with the youth and help them see themselves in a positive light. Unfortunately, it was me who had to have the experience of seeing the light from the TV and lamp glisten on the almost microscopic piece of metallic product on my foot.
Honestly, it made me want to celebrate Boxing Day with the creator of glitter. Or at least with whoever at school decided to decorate the cards in such a way.
Merry Christmas! Happy Festivus!! Happy Just-A-Chance-To-Spend-Time-With-Family-For-A-Few-Days!!
Happy Belated Boxing Day!
I had an experience last night which made me understand again how some gifts truly keep on giving. I was sitting talking with Leo and noticed that I had a piece of glitter on the skin between my big toe and the second toe. Glitter. Who thought of this product? It must have been a person with a serious vendetta against all the people they contacted and all they people those people would come in contact with.
The mentoring group I am involved with at school had us give our mentees a card with a message on it to share with the youth what we see in them. (Only the positive things) On the card was the "mascot" of the group covered in glitter. Covered in glitter. So much glitter that when the lady first offered it to me and told me I would have to write a message on it, I really wanted to tell her that I was resigning from the organization. I cannot stand glitter.
Once you come in contact with glitter, it never really goes away. I've never had it, but I hear when people get lice they have to wash really well -- their bodies, their combs, their sheets, their pillows, basically everything they come in contact with. Glitter is the same way, only worse. I delicately touched only the tip of the card, made sure no glitter stayed on the tip of my pen, handed the card off to someone even more cautiously. I came home that day and cut off more of my hair. Washed it very thoroughly. I have since washed the clothes I had on that day twice.
Despite all the precautions, almost two weeks later I come across a piece of said glitter on my toe. I have not received anything else (nor would I have accepted anything else) with glitter on it, so it is all from the contact with a gift that was supposed to stick with the youth and help them see themselves in a positive light. Unfortunately, it was me who had to have the experience of seeing the light from the TV and lamp glisten on the almost microscopic piece of metallic product on my foot.
Honestly, it made me want to celebrate Boxing Day with the creator of glitter. Or at least with whoever at school decided to decorate the cards in such a way.
Merry Christmas! Happy Festivus!! Happy Just-A-Chance-To-Spend-Time-With-Family-For-A-Few-Days!!
Happy Belated Boxing Day!
06 December 2007
CBT and my fears
Each and every winter I face one of my biggest fears on almost a daily basis. I deal with it almost consistently for about two months each winter season and then again in the spring time. It is the coming/leaving of the birds.
I have this incredible fear of being shitted on by a bird. And an even larger fear of being shitted on by a large group of birds. It makes walking out of a building to the car, or to the store, or to the trash receptacle, or to where ever outside quite unbearable. I always have to look to the sky and think if this is the moment that shit will fall onto my shoulder, or into my newly perfect-vision-seeing eyes, or worse -- into my mouth. I have to be vigilant about making sure the large V's that fly by are not taking aim at my orange skull cap or my neatly cut head. That the birds are not going to try and practice the targeting that they have honed all spring while flying individually in the neighborhood parks over the baseball players and couples making out on benches.
This year, I have been noticeably calm. I have not felt any serious anxiety. The reason -- there have been no migrating birds. It is December and I have not seen any birds going South to the beautiful lands of Central and South America. I haven't had to dart my eyes to try and peep out the bird who has sneaked away from its crew to do the solo mission one of its friends in the V formation has dared him/her to accomplish with the reward of some fresh worms upon arrival to their vacation home.
This morning kid sis #2 called me at 7:03 to tell me that she had seen a large group of black birds migrating Southward. Finally.
But what took them so long?
I hate to bring it to this, but maybe it's a colour thing. Maybe they are starting to be on CBT (Coloured Bird Time). Seriously. I'm not kidding. It is December and there are still birds in the mid-west. Maybe they are adopting the culture of a lot of the brown humans they see who are taking over their landscapes in all the lands of the world. And maybe the other lighter birds are adopting the darker birds' cultural ways and deciding to be late for stuff, too. Think of it as similar to the way hip hop has crossed the color barrier with humans.
What other excuse is there for their tardiness to head to some of the most beautiful places in the world? Maybe they were still trying to feed on some of the fried chicken bones laying outside of Popeyes. I don't know.
Let me know if you catch some birds practicing CBT.
And if you see me ducking and looking nervous, it is not because I am running from the po-po or a local gang that I upset by wearing the wrong colors, it is the birds.
Those damn birds.
I have this incredible fear of being shitted on by a bird. And an even larger fear of being shitted on by a large group of birds. It makes walking out of a building to the car, or to the store, or to the trash receptacle, or to where ever outside quite unbearable. I always have to look to the sky and think if this is the moment that shit will fall onto my shoulder, or into my newly perfect-vision-seeing eyes, or worse -- into my mouth. I have to be vigilant about making sure the large V's that fly by are not taking aim at my orange skull cap or my neatly cut head. That the birds are not going to try and practice the targeting that they have honed all spring while flying individually in the neighborhood parks over the baseball players and couples making out on benches.
This year, I have been noticeably calm. I have not felt any serious anxiety. The reason -- there have been no migrating birds. It is December and I have not seen any birds going South to the beautiful lands of Central and South America. I haven't had to dart my eyes to try and peep out the bird who has sneaked away from its crew to do the solo mission one of its friends in the V formation has dared him/her to accomplish with the reward of some fresh worms upon arrival to their vacation home.
This morning kid sis #2 called me at 7:03 to tell me that she had seen a large group of black birds migrating Southward. Finally.
But what took them so long?
I hate to bring it to this, but maybe it's a colour thing. Maybe they are starting to be on CBT (Coloured Bird Time). Seriously. I'm not kidding. It is December and there are still birds in the mid-west. Maybe they are adopting the culture of a lot of the brown humans they see who are taking over their landscapes in all the lands of the world. And maybe the other lighter birds are adopting the darker birds' cultural ways and deciding to be late for stuff, too. Think of it as similar to the way hip hop has crossed the color barrier with humans.
What other excuse is there for their tardiness to head to some of the most beautiful places in the world? Maybe they were still trying to feed on some of the fried chicken bones laying outside of Popeyes. I don't know.
Let me know if you catch some birds practicing CBT.
And if you see me ducking and looking nervous, it is not because I am running from the po-po or a local gang that I upset by wearing the wrong colors, it is the birds.
Those damn birds.
03 December 2007
Positive Experience?
As they work on a project a female student told a boy that she had never seen him with pimples on his face before.
Comment from the boy sitting next to him:
"Got a little acne?! Somebody hit puberty. I like that."
I never knew others could find it to be a good thing to see breakouts on your face.
Comment from the boy sitting next to him:
"Got a little acne?! Somebody hit puberty. I like that."
I never knew others could find it to be a good thing to see breakouts on your face.
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