April 9, 2014
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She wore her scars like armor but if you got passed it, it was amor. Battle ready at all times but full of that LOVE DIVINE. The battle between light and dark is damn sure what gave her that spark. A smile on her lips could disguise the murder in her eyes. See she could kill your dreams with kindness, never a cruel intent, she was just a warrior that said exactly what she meant. And if you crossed her, it was yours to bear. Call up your gods, say a prayer but to her love nothing compared. Like a roller coaster with dips and crests, she lived this life, doing her best. And finally she is at rest.
March 31, 2014
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In urban lingo, dap is a hand bump that can replace an handshake or be the symbol of agreement, excitement or even just showing love. But in my personal life, those
are were my aunt’s initials. She wasn’t but a few years older than me; she was the baby out of my Grandmother’s 18 children. Even still, she was an aunt and not my contemporary. I used to dream of being old enough to follow her on her adventures with my Cousin Toni. When I finally reached what I thought was an appropriate age, she shut me down quick. 😄 She told me she had bigger plans for my future than following in her footsteps, so I could just sit my little butt on the porch. Although I was taller than her 4’8″, I did just what she said because I was not about to tangle with that wild cat. Last November, during my Grandmother’s last days, I found out how truly ill my aunt was. Besides the Lupus she’d been battling, she also had a liver damaged beyond repair. She told me she probably wouldn’t make it until the next November. I worried but figured she’d kick death’s butt if it showed up at her door. I mean she had been kicking butt and taking names my whole life. She even made Ice Cube (yeah the rapper) take heed when they dated back in the vintage days. She was a ball of love though. She never lacked having an encouraging word, a smile, a hug or Love for any who needed it. She was one of my heroes. But this week, she was needed elsewhere so she left us behind with tears and smiles on our faces. We won’t ever forget all the advice, love, laughs and shenanigans. Nor will we forget that she taught us to live out loud and with joy. So while I’m pasting the pieces of my heart back together, I’m also planning to celebrate the time I was given. I am also grateful that I had the chance to tell her how much she truly meant to me and to hear her say she loved me too. She told me that she was proud of me. I just regret I didn’t get to hear her say “auntie’s baby!” to me one more time. But she put enough love into each exclamation, that I should be able to hold onto it for the rest of my life. I just wish I could get one more DAP.
In loving memory of Doree Ann Primous
March 26, 2014
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It’s been a while since I posted. The last posts were related to the death of my grandmother, Mrs. Irene Lujan Primous. From that point until now, I haven’t written anything more than some FaceBook statuses. Poetry left, my essays dried up and my short stories have no imagination. I thought I was just going through a down cycle, as they have happened occasionally in my life. I always viewed these cycles as times I was subconsciously recharging my creativity. They have been viewed as periods of rest for a super active mind. I have just recently had what some may call an epiphany; I may just be depressed. I battled with what a doctor diagnosed as manic depression from the childhood until about age 27, when I decided to take life as it comes. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not one of those who believe that therapy is a racket dreamed up by folks to push pills and make money. I just knew that constantly rehashing the BS of life wasn’t helping ME. I needed something different and eventually I found it. I guess the reason I am unsure about whether this is depression or a motivation issue is because the only “symptom” I am exhibiting is a lack of desire to partake in some activities. Yes, these are the activities that make up the facets of my personality but they aren’t the sum total of me. I’ve still been eating, laughing and spending time with my loves. I’m not withdrawn or angry. I just haven’t had any desire to engage in my god complex. 😜 I’m still putting out (what I think is) inspiration. I still feel happy on the surface so could I really be depressed? I really don’t know but I hope whatever this season is ends soon because I have another death to deal with. I know I would be able to process my grief better if I could “create” it out of existence. So what do you think my problem is: depression or just unmotivated? >
August 7, 2013
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Lately, there has been a conversation going on in America about crime. It exploded during the George Zimmerman trial. On one hand, you have those bemoaning the apparent lack of equality in the criminal justice world. They point to the statistics of how often minorities are tried and convicted as opposed to those who are recognized as the “majority”. They also point to the harsher penalties that are handed down to those “minorities” as opposed to the “majority”. They say it points to the institutionalized racism that is entrenched in American society. They are demanding a change to the laws that disproportionately affect minorities and the poor (which can be one in the same). They feel that a white person can get away with murdering a brown or black skinned person. They feel that the system is saying their sons lives are worthless and they are demanding accountability and justice.
On the other side are those saying that as long as 96% of Blacks are being killed by other Blacks then they should just shut up. They trot out the term “Black on Black crime” (BoBc for the rest of this posting). They say fix your problems within your own community before you rail against the “so-called” issues within American society. They imply or flat out state that those who are calling out the justice system don’t have the same fervor when BoBc occurs. They imply that as long as the minority community doesn’t care what happens amongst its members then we have no say in how the world views the community as a whole. These same people use BoBc as a weapon. You see it from the O’Reillys, Hannitys, and Nugents. You even get it from the Lemons. But those same people get very quiet when you point out that most crime is statistically intra racial. Such as Whites are killed by Whites 84% of the time. Yet you never hear the term White on White crime or Chinese on Chinese crime. Those are just crimes. Until now, I read this article about Chris Hayes and his appearance on TV. I was amazed by his approach. I applaud his efforts to get people to understand that the media is complicit in this debate by what they choose to air.
If all you hear is that green elephants with pink polka dots are dangerous but pink elephants with green polka dots are safe and friendly that will be your point of view.
I believe that crime is crime, no matter who commits it. I know that the laws are applied more harshly to those with more melanin. I think that it is mostly due to the misperception being fostered in society that minority males are more dangerous just because they are minority. I know that there is a whole host of things going on that contribute to criminal activity. I also know that as Americans we cannot sit back and be mute when our government entities engage in bigotry. I will speak up and out. And from now on, whenever someone tries to shut down the conversation by trotting out BoBc, I will counter with statistics about White on White crime.
March 27, 2013
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thoughts flitting through my mind
skimming over the surface
of what’s underneath
If I get to close
will I drown
’cause my wings are wet
making me nervous
I can see
into the depths
not into the unknown
here and back
there and here
around and around
just skimming the surface
I could dive
but I am scared
of what’s underneath
February 21, 2013
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Quick Tip: Stay Regular.
Blogging is like exercising, in my opinion. Some days I am highly motivated. Other days it’s a fat day. (Disclaimer: I do not have a structured workout scheduled. I leave that to those peppy cheerleader types. So my comparison comes from the comments of others about their workout routines. Heck, I chase a 2-year-old around for 15-18 hours a day and horseplay with the others from 5PM – 9PM most evenings. Who needs a structured workout. )
As a result there is no real schedule above trying to post at least 2 days a week. I typically don’t get on the interwebs on the weekends because I am fully focused on family time then. I also post less frequently during school vacations because there are 7 people in line for the desktop. Once I get a new laptop that will change. If a good blog is like a healthy colon then my blog is probably more like a college kid’s colon, healthy enough but subject to occasional abuse. This could result in constipation, diarrhea, and hemorrhoids. Constipation of the brain may cause me not to post as frequently. That is why I created the Ask Me Anything…Seriously page. Your questions may be the laxative needed by me. If I suffer from diarrhea of the blog I will post until the situation remedies itself. Hopefully this blog never suffers from hemorrhoids because I will shut it down. I will try to maintain a healthy blog because I don’t want to bore you. Just understand that, like you, I live a real life and that is my most important task.
February 5, 2013
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Today was one like any other. I woke up. Read my morning blogs while drinking coffee. I then viewed tutorials on many arts and crafts. I played with my son. I sat in the sun. I laughed. I argued. And now I am in bed. Many folks would see a lack of substance in my day. They would see a woman who does nothing all day living the height of ease. I would look at those people and laugh. My life is rich and full.
There are so many moments of unexplainable joy. How can you understand how I feel just to see the variety of smiles my son displays? The only way you could is if you have experienced the same awe and wonder. The only way is if you have been caught in that heart stopping moment of total love.
Some may see my time on the internet as a waste of time. I see it as a way to gain new knowledge. I see it as a way to educate myself as I see fit. If I feel like a Micro Torch Class one day then I can find one. (I found a free one on Craftsy.com. Kate Richbourg is the instructor.) If I feel like trying to wrap my brain around metaphysics as a philosopy, then there is a place for me in this world wide web. I am only limited by my desires because anything I want to know is at my fingertips. The joy of accessing what was once denied cannot be measured.
The joy of sitting in the sun is celebratory. Being from my neighborhood means a lot of my peers can’t do that. So for the lost ones I allow the sun to caress my skin. I allow the breeze to whisper its secrets to me. I thank the trees for standing and showing me how to do the same. I share laughs with the bees because there are many who can’t laugh. I celebrate the life the Universe has given me every day. Maybe you can’t understand. I sure can’t explain.
Everyday I celebrate life. What you may see as mundane, I recognize as miraculous. I know how easy it could all be over. I’ve seen it end in the old, the young, the healthy, the sick, in the sensitive and the hardened, the happy and the sad. I know that eventually the ride will stop and I’ll be forced to get off. Until that day I will cherish every breath, every moment, every aggravation, and every triumph. Don’t pity my boring life; help me celebrate the miracles of everyday life. Enjoy the breeze. Laugh with a kid (in my case I can laugh with 6 of mine on a daily basis). Drink coffee or whatever you want. (Just remember if you are drinking before noon you ARE…an alcoholic,LOL.)
Laugh…a lot. Argue… not as much. Love learning. Be grateful for waking up every morning. But most of all see the beauty of the mundane. Those are the moments when life is being lived.