Monday, May 4, 2015

All Lives Matter


 A Thug Is A Thug Is A Thug. How anybody could have the audacity to politicize a perfectly good word because of its “racial” implications is ridiculous. One man speaking to reporters claimed that when he fought for his country he was considered a patriot, but now that he fights for "his people," he is considered a “thug.”

Merriam-Webster's Dictionary's definition of the word thug is as follows: " a violent criminal, or a brutal ruffian or assassin, Deliberately cutting fire hoses, burning down a drugstore,  pelting police and causing them bodily harm, looting and acting without regard for the lives and safety of others-lashing out-is the behavior of brutal ruffians. A thug is as a thug does, irrespective of race, creed or socio-economic background.

Freddy Gray's unnecessary and as we have now come to learn, illegal arrest which caused his fatal injuries are inexcusable. Yet I experience conflicting emotions while listening to pundits intellectualize, politicize and proselytize the cause of the Baltimore riots.

Rebellion, political protests and clashes between the haves and have not's is not a new phenomenon. Thomas Jefferson said that a little rebellion now and then is a good thing....The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.”   Of course he was writing from the safe distance of Paris, much like I am writing this from the comfort of my living room far away from the chaos that engulfs West Baltimore.

Gentrification is slow to reach West Baltimore. Residents of West Baltimore have had to endure the burned out, vacant row-houses that have discouraged investment in the neighborhood for decades.  In marginalized communities across the United States predatory lending is rampant; credit is king and debt is a way of life creating a culture of poverty, which ensures that the cycle of poverty continues for generations. In 1968 after the assassination of Martin Luther King, Baltimore rioted in protest of the same conditions that plague Baltimore today:  subpar housing, distrust of law-enforcement, unemployment, inadequate schooling, social and economic injustice.

We have learned that Baltimore spends the third highest per capita on its public schools. According to the Baltimore Sun, Baltimore ranked second among the nation’s 100 largest school districts in per pupil spending.

Of course it’s easier to get angry, burn buildings down and lay blame everywhere but where it belongs than it is to be pro-active about  doing the work that will create positive and long term change such as finding after-school or community based programs that offer support to low-income families so that their children are given an opportunity to escape the conditions that keep them trapped. Naturally, in a capitalist economy there will always be barriers that can impede progress such as race, class and gender but these are facts of life. I doubt you will find any successful person who came from humble beginnings that can say their journey was a simple one. There is no quick fix to achieving success; one has to want it and earn it. 
 

Today, unlike 1968 Baltimore's top brass is black. The mayor and State's Attorney are black. Three of the six indicted officers are black. Stephanie Rawlings Blake has already come under fire for the language she used to describe the lawlessness that erupted in Baltimore. She has since back tracked and said she shouldn’t have used such language.  Of course, I disagree: a thug by any other name is still a thug.  Criminal behavior should never be condoned or justified. But, she is a politician and she can’t alienate her constituents or the police department she must rely on. A house divided against itself cannot stand.   In the meantime, while we await the outcome of the Freddy Gray investigation with baited breath, I can’t help but wonder if the protestors chanting black lives matter in response to the recent deaths of black men at the hands of law enforcement might take to the streets to voice their outrage over the death of an innocent NYPD officer. Officer Brian Moore was doing his job; attempting to protect the community he served from thugs like Demetrius Blackwell, who shot him in the face and killed him. The irony is heartbreaking. Enough is enough.  All lives matter.




















Thursday, April 23, 2015

White Honda Civic-Morning Pages Draft

Her white Honda Civic taunted me. It was parked right in front of my driveway, blocking me in. If I wanted to go out, which I did, I would have to run upstairs and ask her to move it, playing right into her bony, manipulative hands. She always did this shit and I had no fucking way out.


I sat in my apartment fuming. I didn’t want to see her, especially not today. The boys had given me hell today and just as the doorbell rang, heralding another unexpected visit, I was rushing them downstairs to eat and nap so I could take a break. As long as that white Honda civic stayed parked in front of my apartment, a break was the last thing I was going to get. 

Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Good Afternoon. Today, I'm really not in the mood. But here I am. Writing these pages with the expectation that it will translate into my becoming a better writer and perhaps having my blog recognized by more than four people.

No offense you guys, but this invisibility is wreaking havoc on  my confidence-to the point that I posted that hideous picture of myself in the early stages of pregnancy hoping that somebody might see it and want to comment on it and that it might  go viral and jump start my career.

Pathetic. I know, but there is a method to my madness. I keep telling myself that. '

I'm wondering why people who say things I've said, not any better or worse than I've said it, have their stuff recognized by millions of people, their blogs get tweeted on Huffington Post, they get interviewed about their tiny little blogs that they never thought would get noticed but theyeventually captured the attention of the world and now, here  they are famous authors! People read them. People see them.

That's all I want. Is it too much to ask?

Is it because I'm not a journalism, communications or English major? Or does my writing really suck that bad?  We'll soon find out because I'm going to devote this blog (apart from the morning pages) to trying out my stuff. I will finish my novel  (thirteen years in the making) in the meantime and that's my goal. I just want to finish the novel.

The story is in me. It has to come out. I'm freaking constipated by the bloody thing. Thirteen agonizing years of constipation. So I will do what I must. Writing is the only thing I want to do with my life and I want to get paid for it.  That's against most odds, I know but I am a woman of faith. Also, I've been trying to get work that pays me more than what I'm making where I currently work. Yet,  even with a master's degree I can't  seem to get an interview. Not even for an assistant's position. I've been trying for an editorial assistant or any assistant's position in publishing.  Problem is the salary is way below what I should be earning especially at this stage and age of the game. I've never made what I'm supposed to be making with an advanced degree.  It was the reason I went to school in the first place, yet I haven't been able to use my degree at all. I don't know why I'm constantly low-balled, humiliated, debased, degraded.  It's the fucking story of my life.  What, I'm begging any of you-well, I guess the four of you-to tell me, what the fuck is wrong with me?

Maybe I'm not meant to do more. If this is the only "published" writing I do than I will be happy with it. I will be grateful.

No. I won't. I'm tire of falling into shit. Taking jobs just because I hated the one I was currently in, without really thinking it through. I don't want to be hasty. I don't want to be impatient. It's my life and I want to have some peace knowing that I made the right choice because it was the right choice, because it was my choice. Not because I was rushed into it or pressured into it.

 Now is my time. I know I've been saying that for years, but this time is different. I've got kids now. I've got their  futures to think about. I don't want them to be anything like me. Also, I want them to know that if they truly want something, even if they are good at it, they still have to work for it, which I can admit has been a problem all my life. Things were natural for me. My sister always said I never really had to work hard for anything. Piano exams, I always got higher grades without studying or practicing as hard as I should have. I imagine how great I would be if I stuck to it. Like my sister for example. She works. She's an actor. I remember when she first started she was told she'd have better luck becoming a neurosurgeon. I was the one who took that statement literally and felt like if she was told that, what would they say to me? She didn't let it stop her. She literally pounded the pavement and knocked on doors until one opened.

She's a teacher now, another of her passions BUT, she has a role in a sitcom opposite Thandie Newton and Cole Hauser. Not bad. She waited a long time and put up with a lot of bullshit and rejection to get to that point but she is living her dream. She can die without regrets. I suppose that scares me too. I don't want to be on my deathbed, knowing that all I had to do was devote some time and energy to what I claim is my passion without expecting the world to accept what I have to say just because I say here I am.  Perhaps that's been my problem all my life. I expect things to fall into my lap, if I'm good at them. Like I shouldn't have to work just because I have a natural talent for something.  I'm not afraid of hard work but I don't want to work at things I enjoy. I'm also scared to death of rejection too. I hate to sound like an elitist, especially when I haven't published anything of substance but there's a lot of bad writing out there. I don't want to be a bad writer. Does that make sense?   Also, I 'm tired. I'm not ever in the mood nor do I have time to write the way I did when I didn't give a shit about it you know?  Raising the twins is work. I'm potty training two of them at once so forget it. When I get a minute to myself, I just want to binge watch t.v. and zone out until they wake up from a nap. I make too many excuses. Yes. I know.

My husband always says, "I don't get why you don't just send your stuff out.." Or my mom will say, "I was watching such and such show the other day and this young girl was talking about her book and she reminded me of you," or I read these articles all the time from people who don't write as well as you and they get their stuff published in so and so magazine, Then I get angry. I tell her I'm working on it.  She sighs and says,   "So I've been hearing for thirteen years."

 I know. I'm making excuses, but that's what these pages are for. Anyway, I'm going to answer my mom's question by posting a link to a woman's blog who, like my mom said-writes exactly about what I've been writing about for two years: how motherhood has changed her life.

It's changed mine too-and although I've said what she's said. I like the way she said it. Maybe there's something to that. Her blog has changed my life.  Motherhood will make me a better writer and so far, I have kept my writing promise despite the fact it's becoming more difficult to do since my eldest twin, Zachary has figured out how to escape the confines of his crib,where I desperately need him to be when it's writing time.

Oh well. This is where the work comes in I suppose. Hey. Look at me! Mommy's still writing!

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ashli-mazer/this-is-what-motherhood-did-to-me_b_7073842.html?ncid=tweetlnkushpmg00000067

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Forgive me...

Please bear with me as I figure some things out.  I'm a work in progress, much like this blog.

I'm just trying something.

This is a test.

Sent from my iPhone

Promises...Promises

I apologize in advance for any spelling, grammar or usage issues with this post. As a writer, I know I shouldn't be making those kinds of excuses but it's more important for me to write, than get it right.

Also, I'm just not in the mood to write at all (which is why I have to do this). What makes things worse is that while I'm trying to keep true to my word, make the time to do what's write-excuse me, right-and prioritize what's important to me, which of course is my writing and these pages.

I have the news on because sometimes I'm inspired by what's going on in the world and they gave about five minutes to the news of the guy that died in Baltimore from a severed spine while at least 15 minutes to the freaking Royal Baby...I hate to sound like an asshole, but really? I just don't give a shit about the Royal baby. I have a feeling most people don't. Even the London correspondent claims this  baby is not big news-they are calling it the spare to the heir.  Yet, here I am talking about this shit and not the tragedy in Baltimore. This is the state of news today and it's sickening. Now they are talking about Don Johnson's Miami Vice outfit. (This is MSNBC in case you ever want to catch breaking news) Oh wait, the reporter is talking about the suspicious packages found at City Hall in St. Louis. They don't have much info about it yet, but I suppose by the time I come back to write again the world will know more.

As for the incident in Baltimore. I haven't really got much information. I think the Mayor of Baltimore is also waiting for answers. As usual, I didn't intend for the pages to begin this way. My time is limited so I have to be brief, but of course I have to get the writing in. I can't believe it's 11 already.

Anyway, I must say I'm not surprised. As one correspondent claims, it seems as though it's open season on Black men. While I'M not going that far I have to say it's troubling that despite all the media attention surrounding the recent deaths of black males in police custody, I'd think that cops would be extra cautious. Apparently not. You know it's also troubling that -well, again I don't know the circumstances so I don't want to speak to soon but c'mon black men. It's suicide to do anything remotely illegal these days. Why in the name of all that's holy are you in a situation to be involved in any kind of altercation with the police? I hope it wasn't a situation where the young man got mouthy; I'm hopeful that it's not a situation where tragedy could have been avoided had he not been in the wrong place at the wrong time, though lately it seems that might be anyplace.

I hate to say it, but I have two black boys. I mean they aren't old enough to go anywhere by themselves yet but when they are, I'll have to impose a strict curfew. I am afraid of them being out after dark where the chances of them having an unfortunate encounter of any kind are increased.

It's scary.

And my son somehow escaped from his crib so I can't delve into the details about Freddie Gray even though I'm hearing this guy blame the Mayor of Baltimore who is black and female for essentially sucking up to the white administration in order to become mayor so this is why there hasn't been enough done to curb tensions between police and the black community of Baltimore...

I guess now I may have something to work on for tomorrow;s pages.., oh, and in the meantime they trial in Tulsa where the guy mistook his gun for a tazer begins,...

http://www.msnbc.com/msnbc-live
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Sunday, April 19, 2015

Story Hour Mom

Lately, I've been in a James Blake state of mind.  Oh wait. It might have a little something to do with the fact that I'm  listening to both of his albums as I write these "anytime pages."  Seems tonight they are for venting.

Today started out pretty well. Actually, this weekend wasn't bad at all-after picking my husband up from work, he claimed he needed to pick up some scotch bonnet peppers for a dish he was making but when we got to the grocery store, he informed me that first, we'd be going to a fancy little bar in the same plaza! Surprise!!!!!

Look,  I never say no to a drink at any hour, happy or not, but I wish he would have told me because I might have made more of an effort with my appearance.  I was not dressed for this. Fortunately it was still early. The bar hadn't really even begun to do business yet. I would be out of there before anybody could see me and snicker.

The sad, but sweet thing about my aloof but always well-meaning husband is that he thinks that I am beautiful regardless of what I'm wearing or not wearing.  I'm flattered that he wasn't ashamed of me but that's my husband. He's humble, genuine, sweet and compassionate to a fault. He once dated a woman with a goatee, and two teeth and didn't care what anybody said because she was a damn good  and beautiful on the inside and out. Her goatee was apparently the result of hormone replacement therapy. I'm not sure if it explains her missing teeth but I suppose that's neither here nor there at this point.  I'm not saying a woman with a goatee and two teeth can't be attractive, I'm just saying it's a bit hard to trust him when he says I look beautiful. His frame of reference is a bit skewed.

I know how vain I sound. I cannot tell a lie. I want to feel and look like story hour mom now and again. I want to get dressed up and look fierce and be envied. I know it's wrong but I just want to feel beautiful, young, fresh and vibrant. It's been a long time since I've felt any of those things.
 (courtesy of Mingles in the Bronx )

Lately, I don't ever go anywhere requiring  the effort which by the way has me resenting the fuck out of Story Hour Mom. She breezes into toddler story hour fresh off the pages of InStyle magazine (at least that's the message she's quite convincingly trying to convey), nails freshly manicured and brightly painted, rocking a wicked hairstyle that I  could only pull off in my wildest dreams; too risque for a mom of toddler twins.

Her outfit was a bit too trendy (and tight) for her age, but she had the body for it, and the bitch looked fierce.

How dare she sashay into the library  (a library of all places!-there are children with insecure moms here!) exuding that ridiculous amount of swagu?  I overheard her talking to the librarian and she mentioned that she had two younger boys at home too.  Is she for real? I checked her out again from head to toe as discreetly as possible from the corner of my magnifying eye glasses.  The shoes. Damn her. How does she chase young children in those?

 She's obnoxiously spirited and happy and joyful; a chipper chatterbox spewing ridiculous tales and anecdotes, doling out stupid advice to any idiot who'll listen.  Like a bunch of drooling sycophants the other moms hang onto her every (grammatically incorrect I might add, ) word. I am not fooled. I don't even flinch when she flashes a flawless smile at me, looks me up and down and tells me what a beautiful job I'm doing with the twins. Taking them out to the library and  managing their melt-downs all by myself. I wonder how I must look to her.  I absolutely love the shade of her matte lipstick.  I hate her.

Let's move on, shall we?

Sunday morning: hubby and I went to our Cozy Cottage (diner-we don't actually have a cozy cottage yet) for a delicious breakfast and to get out of the house.

It was... nice.  It felt like it did when we were dating and we could stay out all night long doing whatever it was we did when we were young and unfettered, doing it until the sun began to creep up into the sky spreading daylight. Back then, our only concern was which diner had the best breakfast. We'd fine one and eat our scrambled eggs, bacon and Belgian waffles and talk for as long as the coffee refills kept coming.  When we had our fill we'd waste the rest of the day at his place, wrapped in each other's arms  in front of the t.v. watching old movies. What a time we had back when we were our only raison d'etre.

Of course we are living a completely different life now.  I never imagined how different it would be.  No spontaneous anything anymore. These days I have to schedule taking a shit. Free time is an oxymoron.

Honestly, I don't know what all of this has to do with James Blake but for some reason his music takes me "there."  Where? I have no clue.  I don't care...all that I know is I'm fallin'...fallin'...fallin'...might as well fall in...

For more on my obsession with James Blake and the affect of his music check out my Tumblr reneelizz.tumblr.com) post entitled "HBO's Togetherness and James Blake."

Thanks to James Blake and The Wilhelm Scream, Mingles and Story Hour Mom for the inspiration for tonight's post, which  despite my intentions, seemed to have a mind of its own.

http://jamesblakemusic.com/