I'm taking yesterday's post another step by talking about a series of childhood incidents that greatly impacted my view on sexuality for a very long time. By this I mean my own sexuality and where it would take me in life.
A very trusted adult exposed and manipulated his gentitalia in front of me and talked about fantasies involving rather rough play regarding sexual intimacy. This occurred while I was in elementary school. This adult never assaulted me but the articulated fantasies involving talk of painful intercourse along with my discomfort at the nakedness of the adult and what he was doing made me physically ill. I remember that feeling quite distinctly. It took many many years for me to be able to think about sex and any form of intimacy without associating it with nausea and pain.
Subconsciously, I would dress to ensure there would be no chance of someone being attracted to me. That didn't always work though. As a teenager, there were some guys interested in me and the interaction left me feeling overly anxious and associate any further involvement with probable pain and feeling ill. Consequently, I put far less value on having a boyfriend than other friends did. Why would I want it under those circumstances?
It was difficult to explain later to anyone my feeling as I did because the incidents that happened did not involve molestation of any kind. It was inappropriate behavior by the adult, no question about that, but since I wasn't touch could I really consider myself damaged goods or the victim of molestation? I was an overly sensitive child, attuned to the smells, voices, colors and textures all around me. I was upset after each encounter to the point of tears until finally the genitalia show and tell business stopped entirely.
Fortunately, the belief that sexual intimacy involved stomach upset and great pain also stopped entirely in the ensuing years thanks to hearing personal stories from newly de-virgined friends who enjoyed their sexual experience and thanks to having a very understanding and patient boyfriend for my first serious relationship.
The fear subsided and eventually disappeared.
I still dress dumpy at times though. Not sure what's up with that unless it is a force of habit.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Sunday, July 30, 2006
How to be a Woman, Explored
Quite early on in my life, I learned that I was pretty much a fearless individual in terms of trying new things and going places. This doesn't mean I am without any fear or insecurities. I was a tomboy growing up. I loved playing sports, I was very strong for a girl and I loved being near the boys so I played the games they did. I didn't think I was very pretty and the strategy was to do what they did so they would like me. That worked a little bit but not as well as I hoped. Still, I enjoyed having crushes on different playmates and being admired for my sports prowess. However, secretly inside, I wanted a boy to bring me a flower or walk me to class.
The days of my youth, the rights of women were coming more into play. Up until the time I was born, women did usually did not serve in high level positions in the work force or even in many civic groups. I didn't understand that. I also knew that girls were targets on the playground for bullies, usually boys, who would pull their hair, knock the ball out of their hands or engage in similar antics to upset the girls. What I did to prevent that from even happening was take on a tough air. Fortunately, since I was fearless and physically very strong, I usually could repell an attack by a bully - male or female - and repel it so that bully never considered doing it again to me or my friends. I would fight to defend my friends on the playground too.
I more or less acted like a boy and dressed the part. I have androgynous features and that was certainly true even in elementary school. My being able to walk the walk and talk the talk did keep the bullies away but also any potential boyfriends and some girls who thought I was "too rough." I didn't know my own physical strength and my strong personality, fueled by the manic energy of a hyperactive child, let me be the type of person most could only handle in small doses even if he or she liked me.
That adopted demeanor stayed with me in adulthood though I slowly discovered there are ways to remain feminine without being aggressive or boyish/manish. There are ways to be assertive, be open about what you want and expect, and express anger in a constructive way. Of course, there will always be people who associated feminity with being a wallflower and accepting whatever comes your way graciously. I have observed over the years women in charge who married their instinct to nuture with professional responsibility and adopting a demeanor that maintained the female identity. Why associate levels of responsibility with male qualities?
Yet, for the most part in the professional world, I prefer working with men than women. That's not just because I love men but men have less to prove - they're established as belonging in the profession of their choice. So many of the women I've worked with in various businessness tend to act as if they need to prove something and you'd better watch out. I don't know how to adapt to all that but I do know there are constructive and powerful ways to make your statement and wants known without coming across like Rambo or dressing like him either.
Some lessons can take a long time but in the end they are well worth learning.
The days of my youth, the rights of women were coming more into play. Up until the time I was born, women did usually did not serve in high level positions in the work force or even in many civic groups. I didn't understand that. I also knew that girls were targets on the playground for bullies, usually boys, who would pull their hair, knock the ball out of their hands or engage in similar antics to upset the girls. What I did to prevent that from even happening was take on a tough air. Fortunately, since I was fearless and physically very strong, I usually could repell an attack by a bully - male or female - and repel it so that bully never considered doing it again to me or my friends. I would fight to defend my friends on the playground too.
I more or less acted like a boy and dressed the part. I have androgynous features and that was certainly true even in elementary school. My being able to walk the walk and talk the talk did keep the bullies away but also any potential boyfriends and some girls who thought I was "too rough." I didn't know my own physical strength and my strong personality, fueled by the manic energy of a hyperactive child, let me be the type of person most could only handle in small doses even if he or she liked me.
That adopted demeanor stayed with me in adulthood though I slowly discovered there are ways to remain feminine without being aggressive or boyish/manish. There are ways to be assertive, be open about what you want and expect, and express anger in a constructive way. Of course, there will always be people who associated feminity with being a wallflower and accepting whatever comes your way graciously. I have observed over the years women in charge who married their instinct to nuture with professional responsibility and adopting a demeanor that maintained the female identity. Why associate levels of responsibility with male qualities?
Yet, for the most part in the professional world, I prefer working with men than women. That's not just because I love men but men have less to prove - they're established as belonging in the profession of their choice. So many of the women I've worked with in various businessness tend to act as if they need to prove something and you'd better watch out. I don't know how to adapt to all that but I do know there are constructive and powerful ways to make your statement and wants known without coming across like Rambo or dressing like him either.
Some lessons can take a long time but in the end they are well worth learning.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
The World's Watch Dog?
The U.S. needs to stop assigning itself the role of the world's watch dog, especially when it is so in the most inequitable way.
We rushed in to get rid of Saddam Hussein under the premise that (a) he had weapons of mass destruction and (b) he was a dictator and mass murderer. So are the people in China we deal with on a regular basis. We ignore the daily torture of women in third world countries whose gentialia is routinely mutiliated as part of some nutty cultural bias about women experiencing pleasure during sex.
It's hard for me to decide how I feel about being asked to donate supplies and money to the needs of people around the globe, especially children, when many elderly in the U.S. still need to choose between eating or paying for their prescription drugs and too many children go to bed hungry and without adequate medical care. We can't even get the public education system right in this country.
Our devotion to Israel has cost us good relations with the Arab nations. We meddle where we should not and yet wonder why so many people in the world hate America. While it is difficult to be a nation with values and not have enemies, our choices about the extent of involvement and financial contribution need to be re-evaluated.
That will not happen with this president who is the worst in recent memory.
We rushed in to get rid of Saddam Hussein under the premise that (a) he had weapons of mass destruction and (b) he was a dictator and mass murderer. So are the people in China we deal with on a regular basis. We ignore the daily torture of women in third world countries whose gentialia is routinely mutiliated as part of some nutty cultural bias about women experiencing pleasure during sex.
It's hard for me to decide how I feel about being asked to donate supplies and money to the needs of people around the globe, especially children, when many elderly in the U.S. still need to choose between eating or paying for their prescription drugs and too many children go to bed hungry and without adequate medical care. We can't even get the public education system right in this country.
Our devotion to Israel has cost us good relations with the Arab nations. We meddle where we should not and yet wonder why so many people in the world hate America. While it is difficult to be a nation with values and not have enemies, our choices about the extent of involvement and financial contribution need to be re-evaluated.
That will not happen with this president who is the worst in recent memory.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
What's A Day Like For You?
A few avid readers of this blog (ok, just two people) emailed me recently and said it would be interesting to know what a normal day was like for me. I must admit I also enjoy asking people I know slightly or even better than slightly but don't see often what is a normal day for him/her?
If I am working during the day, I get up around 7 a.m. or earlier if I plan to do some walking (I try doing 5 miles a day at least). I go to work for however long it takes me to do what needs to be done. After that, I write, watch TV, play video games or go out. Almost every day I write. If I write in the morning it's usually poetry. My mind works better along those lines in the morning. In the evening I want to write fiction. I read before I go to bed and read about two books a week. I have been trying to force myself to socialize more and meet other people. It's not that I don't get out and meet new people already but I want to try different venues.
Add to the mix above nowadays while writing a fiction project I am conducting research on The Jersey Devil for a screenplay I am collaborating on with a friend. I went to see The 13th Child about two years ago starring Cliff Robertson. This story was based on the Jersey Devil legend. I should say, it was LOOSELY based on the legend. I was so disappointed and appalled by the movie (it suffered from bad everything- bad script, bad direction, bad acting, bad concept, etc.) I left about 45 minutes into the film. Even more depressing was that I went to great lengths to find and see this movie in the theater.
I have a steno book full of notes along with the notes and research from my collaborative partner. Sometime in the next month we plan on spending the day in the Pine Barrens of Jersey to see the sites associated with the legend. I already have ideas about how to approach the film but the spine for the script is not fully conceptualized yet.
Somehow, someway while researching the Jersey Devil legend it occured to me how much fun it would be to make a documentary about a television show I used to watch as a kid called Dark Shadows. There was an aborted documentary started for the program a few years back and I could obtain the filmed and accepted material. The producers hired to make the documentary took an expected tabloid approach to the documentary which infuriated the surviving actors of the show and caused the license holder of the series to pull all rights to using clips or music for the documentary. So the producers were essentially fired and the footage that was good is sitting around untapped. I might tap it so that's an idea on the burner.
I keep a box of index cards and the box is labelled IDEAS. Inside the box there are categories: PLAYS, SCREENPLAYS, DOCUMENTARIES, SHORT STORIES etc. That's how I keep all that organized.
I'll bet you were dying to know.
I'm getting tons of inspiration for poetry by reading Salvador Dali's book "The Secret Life of Salvador Dali" which is a pip to read. His use of the language makes it apparent to the reader how his paintings came out so . . . odd. But I love them. On any given day I will pick up my coffee table reference book containing pages and pages of Dali's work and seem as if I've gone off the deep end, and loving every minute of it.
Maybe I already went off into the deep end and now I have to write up to get this published.
If I am working during the day, I get up around 7 a.m. or earlier if I plan to do some walking (I try doing 5 miles a day at least). I go to work for however long it takes me to do what needs to be done. After that, I write, watch TV, play video games or go out. Almost every day I write. If I write in the morning it's usually poetry. My mind works better along those lines in the morning. In the evening I want to write fiction. I read before I go to bed and read about two books a week. I have been trying to force myself to socialize more and meet other people. It's not that I don't get out and meet new people already but I want to try different venues.
Add to the mix above nowadays while writing a fiction project I am conducting research on The Jersey Devil for a screenplay I am collaborating on with a friend. I went to see The 13th Child about two years ago starring Cliff Robertson. This story was based on the Jersey Devil legend. I should say, it was LOOSELY based on the legend. I was so disappointed and appalled by the movie (it suffered from bad everything- bad script, bad direction, bad acting, bad concept, etc.) I left about 45 minutes into the film. Even more depressing was that I went to great lengths to find and see this movie in the theater.
I have a steno book full of notes along with the notes and research from my collaborative partner. Sometime in the next month we plan on spending the day in the Pine Barrens of Jersey to see the sites associated with the legend. I already have ideas about how to approach the film but the spine for the script is not fully conceptualized yet.
Somehow, someway while researching the Jersey Devil legend it occured to me how much fun it would be to make a documentary about a television show I used to watch as a kid called Dark Shadows. There was an aborted documentary started for the program a few years back and I could obtain the filmed and accepted material. The producers hired to make the documentary took an expected tabloid approach to the documentary which infuriated the surviving actors of the show and caused the license holder of the series to pull all rights to using clips or music for the documentary. So the producers were essentially fired and the footage that was good is sitting around untapped. I might tap it so that's an idea on the burner.
I keep a box of index cards and the box is labelled IDEAS. Inside the box there are categories: PLAYS, SCREENPLAYS, DOCUMENTARIES, SHORT STORIES etc. That's how I keep all that organized.
I'll bet you were dying to know.
I'm getting tons of inspiration for poetry by reading Salvador Dali's book "The Secret Life of Salvador Dali" which is a pip to read. His use of the language makes it apparent to the reader how his paintings came out so . . . odd. But I love them. On any given day I will pick up my coffee table reference book containing pages and pages of Dali's work and seem as if I've gone off the deep end, and loving every minute of it.
Maybe I already went off into the deep end and now I have to write up to get this published.
Monday, July 24, 2006
Call of the Wild
I've not blogged for a few days - partly because of continuing thunderstorms and being too busy with apartment overhaul. After a quiet weekend and bedtime close at hand, I was in my bedroom doing some things and Kay (my house-mate and best friend)called to me from the living room. When I came in and saw her standing next to the sliding glass door to the patio looking down, I naturally came over and looked down too. There was a critter running along the doorframe.
It was a hamster.
We could not believe our eyes. But that's what it was - a hamster. The golden-white color variety. It took us about 10 minutes to actually catch the thing and then create a makeshift residence for it. I gave it some water and cat food as I don't normally keep hamster food handy.
It's very cute but what the hell am I going to do with it? You can't take it to the pound. I can't give it to the pet store up the street as I do not know how long it has been outside and what it might have disease wise. I plan on putting up some signs in nearby buildings to see if someone's hamster got loose. I tend to think that someone just got tired of it or moved and let it loose in the backyard.
We get skunks, possums, foxes, chipmunks, moles and other critters visiting our patio in the evening hours but a hamster is a first.
It was a hamster.
We could not believe our eyes. But that's what it was - a hamster. The golden-white color variety. It took us about 10 minutes to actually catch the thing and then create a makeshift residence for it. I gave it some water and cat food as I don't normally keep hamster food handy.
It's very cute but what the hell am I going to do with it? You can't take it to the pound. I can't give it to the pet store up the street as I do not know how long it has been outside and what it might have disease wise. I plan on putting up some signs in nearby buildings to see if someone's hamster got loose. I tend to think that someone just got tired of it or moved and let it loose in the backyard.
We get skunks, possums, foxes, chipmunks, moles and other critters visiting our patio in the evening hours but a hamster is a first.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
It figures . . .
I have worked only two days at this freelance assignment and the organization has inquired as to whether or not I want to work there permanently. Naturally as the work is boring and I have learned that some of the higher ups with whom I have to work like to yell at their "underlings."
There are two reasons I will cut someone dead: (a) if he/she atttempts to assault me or (b) yells at me in front of other people.
I tend to overact to the above because it makes me so very angry. To yell at a person in front of other people is one of the most demeaning, rudest things you can do. I don't react well to it. Though I don't exploded back now, I will pick up my toys and go home without another word. So I don't see a bright future ahead for me at this place.
It figures the place where the work is boring and people are rude is the place that wants to hire me for a permanent position.
There are two reasons I will cut someone dead: (a) if he/she atttempts to assault me or (b) yells at me in front of other people.
I tend to overact to the above because it makes me so very angry. To yell at a person in front of other people is one of the most demeaning, rudest things you can do. I don't react well to it. Though I don't exploded back now, I will pick up my toys and go home without another word. So I don't see a bright future ahead for me at this place.
It figures the place where the work is boring and people are rude is the place that wants to hire me for a permanent position.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
I and Oprah have one thing in common . .
We both have best friends with whom we share a strong bond.
If you have been following the entertainment headlines, you know that Oprah's friendship with Gloria King is being rumored as a sexual one.
Why? Because they are close.
See, in our society, there is the belief that the only kind of intimacy that counts is a sexual one.
Wrong.
There are plenty of couples of both orientations who can have great sex together but do not get along. They do not understand each other. They do not have a good relationhship.
So sexual intimacy doesn't always mean emotional intimacy; No more than emotional intimacy dictates that sex will follow or is even a possibility. I have no physical attraction to women though I think it is ideal is to have BOTH physical and emotional intimacy with someone. However, that does not exclude ALSO having friends with whom I bond, some more than others for whatever "otherworldly" reason.
Oprah responded to the gay rumours saying that if she and her friend were, in fact, gay, they would say so as there is nothing wrong with being gay and in a relationship. But the reason it is rumored that Oprah might be gay is because she is into her 40s, independent-minded and not married. I don't think she has ever been married or at least not yet.
The same society that embraces the wonders and flexibility technology offers cannot get their mind around the fact there are many kinds of important relationships the soul can have with another another. The sort of friendship you can have with another person with whom you can sit in a car for a long period of time and no one feel there must be some conversation going or the friend who really doesn't mind coming to assist when you are out of sorts is a relationship to be wished for. I used to kid some of my extreme loner friends that they needed more than one friendship in his/her life so he/she could go and complain to someone else about their usual constant companion.
But it's really more than that, of course. Just as it feels surreal to be in nature and feel a part of it, the seamlessness of a valued friendship where the bond has become intuitive in nature is one of life's pure joys. Why it must be defined as being this way or that way and in such narrow parameters reminds us just how far we have yet to go in understanding the bounty of the human spirit and experience.
If you have been following the entertainment headlines, you know that Oprah's friendship with Gloria King is being rumored as a sexual one.
Why? Because they are close.
See, in our society, there is the belief that the only kind of intimacy that counts is a sexual one.
Wrong.
There are plenty of couples of both orientations who can have great sex together but do not get along. They do not understand each other. They do not have a good relationhship.
So sexual intimacy doesn't always mean emotional intimacy; No more than emotional intimacy dictates that sex will follow or is even a possibility. I have no physical attraction to women though I think it is ideal is to have BOTH physical and emotional intimacy with someone. However, that does not exclude ALSO having friends with whom I bond, some more than others for whatever "otherworldly" reason.
Oprah responded to the gay rumours saying that if she and her friend were, in fact, gay, they would say so as there is nothing wrong with being gay and in a relationship. But the reason it is rumored that Oprah might be gay is because she is into her 40s, independent-minded and not married. I don't think she has ever been married or at least not yet.
The same society that embraces the wonders and flexibility technology offers cannot get their mind around the fact there are many kinds of important relationships the soul can have with another another. The sort of friendship you can have with another person with whom you can sit in a car for a long period of time and no one feel there must be some conversation going or the friend who really doesn't mind coming to assist when you are out of sorts is a relationship to be wished for. I used to kid some of my extreme loner friends that they needed more than one friendship in his/her life so he/she could go and complain to someone else about their usual constant companion.
But it's really more than that, of course. Just as it feels surreal to be in nature and feel a part of it, the seamlessness of a valued friendship where the bond has become intuitive in nature is one of life's pure joys. Why it must be defined as being this way or that way and in such narrow parameters reminds us just how far we have yet to go in understanding the bounty of the human spirit and experience.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Light, at last!
Today I received what is being described as a long term freelance assignment in Philadelphia. I start on Monday. It's on the legal end - working with trademarks and that interests me a great deal. The money isn't what I should be making but right now freelance work is such I will take whatever I get. It's a living wage and that eliminates a lot of worry out of my life right there.
I've gotten into the groove of walking and look forward to swimming more. I had hoped to purchase a canoe this summer but that will probably have to wait. I'll resume renting a canoe and will rent a raft to do white-water rafting later this summer. I've been invited to go camping but right now the idea of being in a tent in this heat is not appealing. I prefer it a little cooler.
I hope to have the final draft of this book done by September. I can't wait to see what the literary agent has to say about it after reading the final product. She was hot for the idea when I pitched it to her. I'm trying to focus more on no more than two projects at a time - enough to keep things varied yet not spreading myself too thin which has been a terrible culprit of problems in the past.
I read in the news today that down in Dover this 84 year old woman died about a year or two ago and the daughters put her body in this huge tupperware container. I didn't read enough of the article to get all the ins and outs but evidently they were able to keep the body out of sight and out of smell for all that time. It was an issue of where social security checks were going that stirred up where the heck was this woman at . . . it's a hell of a marketing tool for Tupperware, isn't it? You can even put a human body in this tupperware container, snap the lid and there is NO SMELL FOR YEARS!!!!!
Some product that . . . imagine how it will control odor in your fridge.
I've gotten into the groove of walking and look forward to swimming more. I had hoped to purchase a canoe this summer but that will probably have to wait. I'll resume renting a canoe and will rent a raft to do white-water rafting later this summer. I've been invited to go camping but right now the idea of being in a tent in this heat is not appealing. I prefer it a little cooler.
I hope to have the final draft of this book done by September. I can't wait to see what the literary agent has to say about it after reading the final product. She was hot for the idea when I pitched it to her. I'm trying to focus more on no more than two projects at a time - enough to keep things varied yet not spreading myself too thin which has been a terrible culprit of problems in the past.
I read in the news today that down in Dover this 84 year old woman died about a year or two ago and the daughters put her body in this huge tupperware container. I didn't read enough of the article to get all the ins and outs but evidently they were able to keep the body out of sight and out of smell for all that time. It was an issue of where social security checks were going that stirred up where the heck was this woman at . . . it's a hell of a marketing tool for Tupperware, isn't it? You can even put a human body in this tupperware container, snap the lid and there is NO SMELL FOR YEARS!!!!!
Some product that . . . imagine how it will control odor in your fridge.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
OHMIGOD
It is fricking hot! Not just heat wise; the humidity is almost unbearable today. I turned the air conditioner on which is similar to make a trip to the vault to withdraw gold. Delmarva Power rates are ridiculous. The choices you have to make between the fan and the air conditioner. It is really hot now and we're being told we are in for a heat wave over the weekend!
I don't do well in heat. It is immobilizing. I cannot be immobilized right now. Too much crap to do. I am undergoing a mammoth reorganization and restructuring of my living quarters, getting rid of stuff that I have no use for and trying to restructure things so I don't forget about obligations. The financial drought seems to be coming to a bit of an end this month. Nothing steady work wise but work has been coming my way in spurts so as to keep me off the streets and able to eat.
I'm writing every day still and walking, early in the morning if it's hot or later in the evening, at least two miles. I'm digusted with myself and want to get back to the lean and mean me. It can be done, just not overnight.
I made the mistake of watching TV the other night when there was a segment about the war wounded. I saw a man in his twenties in a hospital bed, missing both legs and one arm. He was laying there in bed, crying. God, I felt for him. All war is horrible, but an especially stupid war is harder to take.
I thought about that guy for most of the night and even today. Dad used to say that I took too much on emotionally from the outside world but is anything around us really "outside?" No. The day I can look upon another's misery and not feel for that person is the day I might as well die.
That is, if the heat doesn't get me first.
I don't do well in heat. It is immobilizing. I cannot be immobilized right now. Too much crap to do. I am undergoing a mammoth reorganization and restructuring of my living quarters, getting rid of stuff that I have no use for and trying to restructure things so I don't forget about obligations. The financial drought seems to be coming to a bit of an end this month. Nothing steady work wise but work has been coming my way in spurts so as to keep me off the streets and able to eat.
I'm writing every day still and walking, early in the morning if it's hot or later in the evening, at least two miles. I'm digusted with myself and want to get back to the lean and mean me. It can be done, just not overnight.
I made the mistake of watching TV the other night when there was a segment about the war wounded. I saw a man in his twenties in a hospital bed, missing both legs and one arm. He was laying there in bed, crying. God, I felt for him. All war is horrible, but an especially stupid war is harder to take.
I thought about that guy for most of the night and even today. Dad used to say that I took too much on emotionally from the outside world but is anything around us really "outside?" No. The day I can look upon another's misery and not feel for that person is the day I might as well die.
That is, if the heat doesn't get me first.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Growing Up Black
From the time I understood what "prejudice" was, I have been fascinated by the journey of the black community in a predominately white culture. I am a white (and very freckled) person.
I remember very clearly the civil unrest of the 1960s, the latter part at least, and particularly the voiced frustration of african-americans who wanted to be considered part of main stream America, especially since the males were expected to go and defend America overseas. I am very influenced by a great voice and the presence of Martin Luther King, Jr. on the television is a fond memory for me just as his assasination is a sad memory. His rhetoric was extraordinary to me. He was my first political hero. I was around nine years at the time and I marvelled at the existence of such a struggle and wondered how the handful of black students in my elementary school really felt about being in a mostly white school. These students were well liked but never really "belonged" in the true sense of the word. But they made the best of it as most african-americans had to do for most of their existence on this continent. Resistance was unheard of until Harriet Tubman, Frederick Douglass and others demonstrated that, yes, resistance could happen and could be successful.
But I could not help wondering and still cannot stop wondering about what it is like to grow up black. Sure, I have friends who share their experiences with me - usually the ones about feeling excluded as a community. It was not until I moved to New York City that friends told me how difficult it was to get a cab uptown. Many drivers (most of them foreign) would not stop to pick up a black person. It didn't matter how well dressed the person was. They were black. Period.
A friend who worked at Saturday Night Live during the time comedian Eddie Murphy was a regular player. Murphy could not get a taxi cab home after the show; a white assistant had go hail down a cab and only then Murphy showed up to get in. I found this incredible to believe, just as the stories I was told that even in the 1990s many african-americans are stopped by police if they are driving an expense car or just cruising through a wealthy area of town. How can anyone stand to live like that? Well, they do and they have. They don't like it. They fight against it, but it still exists.
I can't ever get that part around my brain. Why? Why is it there? It's hard to say that bigotry begets more bigotry. My maternal grandparents were very bigoted about black people yet my mother never was. Even growing up in that environment and in the days where bathrooms and schools were segregated, my mother (and father) never believed the black race to be anything less than the white race . . . or any other race. They opposed busing because it was only a bandaid to a much larger problem: unequitable funding in the public school system. The poor districts needed an infusion of funds and support; busing the kids out of there (usually black kids) into white neighbors and vice-versa solved nothing. Those being shipped into the poor areas now got a shitty education and spent too much time on the school bus.
It didn't make any sense.
Recently, I re-read Maya Angelou's autobiographies, starting with I Can Hear the Caged Bird Sing and if you have not ever read that first book, you should. I was fortunate in that during the early 1970s our school implemented a series of classes that called Black Studies and during that time I first found out about the existence of a cinema mostly populated with black performers and so many other things I never knew about. It was one of the most enlightening courses I've ever taken.
So still I wonder. Clearly, the struggle is far from over for the african-american members of our community.
And I still do not understand why that is.
I remember very clearly the civil unrest of the 1960s, the latter part at least, and particularly the voiced frustration of african-americans who wanted to be considered part of main stream America, especially since the males were expected to go and defend America overseas. I am very influenced by a great voice and the presence of Martin Luther King, Jr. on the television is a fond memory for me just as his assasination is a sad memory. His rhetoric was extraordinary to me. He was my first political hero. I was around nine years at the time and I marvelled at the existence of such a struggle and wondered how the handful of black students in my elementary school really felt about being in a mostly white school. These students were well liked but never really "belonged" in the true sense of the word. But they made the best of it as most african-americans had to do for most of their existence on this continent. Resistance was unheard of until Harriet Tubman, Frederick Douglass and others demonstrated that, yes, resistance could happen and could be successful.
But I could not help wondering and still cannot stop wondering about what it is like to grow up black. Sure, I have friends who share their experiences with me - usually the ones about feeling excluded as a community. It was not until I moved to New York City that friends told me how difficult it was to get a cab uptown. Many drivers (most of them foreign) would not stop to pick up a black person. It didn't matter how well dressed the person was. They were black. Period.
A friend who worked at Saturday Night Live during the time comedian Eddie Murphy was a regular player. Murphy could not get a taxi cab home after the show; a white assistant had go hail down a cab and only then Murphy showed up to get in. I found this incredible to believe, just as the stories I was told that even in the 1990s many african-americans are stopped by police if they are driving an expense car or just cruising through a wealthy area of town. How can anyone stand to live like that? Well, they do and they have. They don't like it. They fight against it, but it still exists.
I can't ever get that part around my brain. Why? Why is it there? It's hard to say that bigotry begets more bigotry. My maternal grandparents were very bigoted about black people yet my mother never was. Even growing up in that environment and in the days where bathrooms and schools were segregated, my mother (and father) never believed the black race to be anything less than the white race . . . or any other race. They opposed busing because it was only a bandaid to a much larger problem: unequitable funding in the public school system. The poor districts needed an infusion of funds and support; busing the kids out of there (usually black kids) into white neighbors and vice-versa solved nothing. Those being shipped into the poor areas now got a shitty education and spent too much time on the school bus.
It didn't make any sense.
Recently, I re-read Maya Angelou's autobiographies, starting with I Can Hear the Caged Bird Sing and if you have not ever read that first book, you should. I was fortunate in that during the early 1970s our school implemented a series of classes that called Black Studies and during that time I first found out about the existence of a cinema mostly populated with black performers and so many other things I never knew about. It was one of the most enlightening courses I've ever taken.
So still I wonder. Clearly, the struggle is far from over for the african-american members of our community.
And I still do not understand why that is.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Structurally Writing
During the process of rehabilitating certain life patterns and habits I have noticed that creating better structure in daily activities has enabled me to be more productive as a writer on current projects but feel less stressed. I still have a long way to go yet to have things where I want them but I can already feel the impact of the improvements thus far in place.
Conducting a periodic inventory on what is important to me is how I plan to keep the structure going in the most effective direction. All this sounds rather too planned for anyone wishing to be more creative but having less self-induced stress does allow the muse to speak more freely. Not that I believe in the muse per se. It all boils down to knowing how you work and what you need to do in order to get the noise out of your head. I'd rather not leave my creative life to chance, thank you very much.
I've been too chicken to actually do anything with some of what I've written. This has to do with a chapbook of poetry that I've written over the years that serves as a chronology of my life and important truths and questions that have come up. I suppose the key reason I've been somewhat hesitant about shopping it or even letting the interested literary agent look at it is because of how different the overall work is to most I've read. Poetry, by tradition, tends to be very serious and profound - or at least seeks to be. Not all, mind you, but a good bit of it does. My work is more perverse: a Celtic view of the world where sad situations become funny and funny situations become sad. My humor can emerge in the worst possible circumstances not because I try to ward off dealing with the situation at hand but simply because I see humor is almost anything. Humor doesn't even rate as a survival tool with me. It is what it is.
That said, I am in the process of looking at some places to send a few poems and see what kind of reaction I get. They certainly are not any worse than some of what I've read. I do not fit neatly in the traditional view of the sad sack, serious poet but then I don't fit neatly into any traditional model of anything so why worry about that now?
Conducting a periodic inventory on what is important to me is how I plan to keep the structure going in the most effective direction. All this sounds rather too planned for anyone wishing to be more creative but having less self-induced stress does allow the muse to speak more freely. Not that I believe in the muse per se. It all boils down to knowing how you work and what you need to do in order to get the noise out of your head. I'd rather not leave my creative life to chance, thank you very much.
I've been too chicken to actually do anything with some of what I've written. This has to do with a chapbook of poetry that I've written over the years that serves as a chronology of my life and important truths and questions that have come up. I suppose the key reason I've been somewhat hesitant about shopping it or even letting the interested literary agent look at it is because of how different the overall work is to most I've read. Poetry, by tradition, tends to be very serious and profound - or at least seeks to be. Not all, mind you, but a good bit of it does. My work is more perverse: a Celtic view of the world where sad situations become funny and funny situations become sad. My humor can emerge in the worst possible circumstances not because I try to ward off dealing with the situation at hand but simply because I see humor is almost anything. Humor doesn't even rate as a survival tool with me. It is what it is.
That said, I am in the process of looking at some places to send a few poems and see what kind of reaction I get. They certainly are not any worse than some of what I've read. I do not fit neatly in the traditional view of the sad sack, serious poet but then I don't fit neatly into any traditional model of anything so why worry about that now?
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
The Pain of Regret
The Strattera I take every day treats my ADHD and does double-duty as an antidepressant. One of the results of having ADHD is having a difficult time getting out of bed in the morning and shaking the grog out of my head (some may argue it never leaves). This has been the cause all of my life up until recently. No matter how much sleep I got, I rarely felt rested in the morning and struggled to get up and moving. This problem frequently made me late to work and other things, sometimes missing appointments entirely.
I am now in my fifth week of taking Strattera and it has treated the groggy problem. I can wake up in the morning like a normal person and actually feel energetic. It is a wonderful feeling. I'm in the middle of reading a book called ADHD Friendly Ways to Organize Your life written by doctors who also have the affliction. While the book has been enormously helpful in providing tips and techniques to make my environment work for me in a more productive way, I can't help but feel a little anger that this sort of information is coming to me only now when I'm 48 years old. Yes, I know that the whole ADHD thing is a diagnosis that's not all that old and treatment plans for adults is a product of the last few years. The kind of treatment that I needed growing up and then as an adult wasn't available. Most of my poor habits were chalked up to being careless and even lazy. I could not even counter such accusations because I didn't understand myself why I was the way I was. Sometimes it bordered on self-loathing. What the hell is wrong with me? I would ask myself.
But I try not to think about the missed opportunities and ruined relationships and friendships certain ADHD habits caused - I try but I do not also succeed. The important thing, of course, is that the help is here now and that is certainly better than never. The reality is that I have always managed to accomplish what I set out to do.
And if I died today, I would still feel good about what I have done with my life. If there is a way to improve upon it, I will take it.
I am now in my fifth week of taking Strattera and it has treated the groggy problem. I can wake up in the morning like a normal person and actually feel energetic. It is a wonderful feeling. I'm in the middle of reading a book called ADHD Friendly Ways to Organize Your life written by doctors who also have the affliction. While the book has been enormously helpful in providing tips and techniques to make my environment work for me in a more productive way, I can't help but feel a little anger that this sort of information is coming to me only now when I'm 48 years old. Yes, I know that the whole ADHD thing is a diagnosis that's not all that old and treatment plans for adults is a product of the last few years. The kind of treatment that I needed growing up and then as an adult wasn't available. Most of my poor habits were chalked up to being careless and even lazy. I could not even counter such accusations because I didn't understand myself why I was the way I was. Sometimes it bordered on self-loathing. What the hell is wrong with me? I would ask myself.
But I try not to think about the missed opportunities and ruined relationships and friendships certain ADHD habits caused - I try but I do not also succeed. The important thing, of course, is that the help is here now and that is certainly better than never. The reality is that I have always managed to accomplish what I set out to do.
And if I died today, I would still feel good about what I have done with my life. If there is a way to improve upon it, I will take it.
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
A Day With No Rain!
I've been offline pretty much all weekend including most of today. Part of that is because the weather has been so unpredictable and I'm afraid of getting the computer fried in a lightening strike. On Saturday, the day was actually sunny with no rain predicted! Off we went to a town called Jim Thorpe in Pennsylvania, a little past Allentown. It is one of the most photographed towns in the country. Why? Beautiful hills and valleys are featured in this old mining town. The town was renamed Jim Thorpe after the famous athlete in 1954 even though, prior to being buried there, Mr. Thorpe had not set foot in the town before.
We took a train ride through the hills and I was envious watching folks in rafts going down the white water coursing through the town. This area is famous for skiing in the winter and in the summer months camping, biking, hiking and white water rafting brings in the tourists. My problem is that I don't have any friends male or female who want to go white water rafting with me. I tend to not to coerce friends in doing something she or he is hesitant to do only because I don't want to hear the individual scream like a little girl for the duration of the activity. I need to seek out more athletically inclined friends for such activities. It was hard watching people riding the white water and only being an observer.
Very early Sunday morning another fierce thunderstorm ripped into our area and, again, woke me up. By the end of the day, we had yet another storm lasting 45 minutes during which it downed trees and added yet more flooding misery to local residents. Earlier this evening (Tuesday), we had more storms that uprooted trees from the already saturated ground.
On another note, it seems that the Strattera I'm taking for ADHD is slowly having its effect. I was able to focus for a long time on a very tedious task today that absolutely had to get done and I had no interest in doing. That's progress!
No barbecue today to celebrate July 4th. It is too stinkin' hot for such things. So it's air conditioning and the good ol' oven for ribs and sweet potatoes to honor the birth of our nation.
Happy 4th!
We took a train ride through the hills and I was envious watching folks in rafts going down the white water coursing through the town. This area is famous for skiing in the winter and in the summer months camping, biking, hiking and white water rafting brings in the tourists. My problem is that I don't have any friends male or female who want to go white water rafting with me. I tend to not to coerce friends in doing something she or he is hesitant to do only because I don't want to hear the individual scream like a little girl for the duration of the activity. I need to seek out more athletically inclined friends for such activities. It was hard watching people riding the white water and only being an observer.
Very early Sunday morning another fierce thunderstorm ripped into our area and, again, woke me up. By the end of the day, we had yet another storm lasting 45 minutes during which it downed trees and added yet more flooding misery to local residents. Earlier this evening (Tuesday), we had more storms that uprooted trees from the already saturated ground.
On another note, it seems that the Strattera I'm taking for ADHD is slowly having its effect. I was able to focus for a long time on a very tedious task today that absolutely had to get done and I had no interest in doing. That's progress!
No barbecue today to celebrate July 4th. It is too stinkin' hot for such things. So it's air conditioning and the good ol' oven for ribs and sweet potatoes to honor the birth of our nation.
Happy 4th!
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