That Feeling?????

What a difference a weekend makes. And, a great weekend I might add. But today I'm hot, sweaty, annoyed and irritable, not to mention frustrated, worried and yeah, frustrated. That about sums it up. I guess that great feeling for no apparent reason was the calm before the storm.

The weekend was great. I ended the 3-day event with my belly dance class and pretty much all was well with the world. That was until (dead in the middle of a conversation about how expensive living alone is and the struggle to make ends come close, never mind meet) my car starts making this god-awful sound like a metal pipe had fallen from under it and was scraping the ground, no doubt making sparks. Fortunately I was pulling up in front of my cousin's house, so I got out, looked under the car and saw nothing hanging. I just had my front brakes done last weekend, rotors and all, and to hear this sound coming from my front axle was unbelievably frustrating. I didn't know what was wrong, and quite frankly didn't care. I already knew it would take money earmarked for something else to fix this mess and I just wanted to drive the car off a bridge!

I got back in the car and let it roll forward and backward a few times in order to diagnose that it wasn't the brakes. It made the screeching hell-acious sound regardless of whether or not the brakes were applied. I decided, with my cousin and her husband, to try to drive the car home since I have a shop a block and a half away. They agreed to follow me. We pull off and the noise gets worse, then changes to a high pitched screeching whir. It was a circular sound, if you know what I mean, so I was certain it was wheel related. I had put a call into my mechanic, who obviously didn't answer at 9:45pm on a holiday, but I was making mental notes all along so that I could explain with some intelligence what was going on. 50 ft. later, nothing! Absolutely nothing! No sound, no screech, no problem. Just two folks displaced from their abode to help me get my decripit (yet to be paid for) 3 year old car home.

Can somebody explain to me how that happens? How is that when things go wrong that a woman might want to get a man's insight on, by the time you explain it to the guy with the answers, the problem disappears? I have had far too many of these episodes and it had come to be a running joke in my marriage. Lexi's phantom car problems. Anyway, this was no phantom noise. This time I had witnesses. My mechanic called back and told me to bring the car in this morning just to be sure. I did. And, I'm waiting for the diagnosis. And I'm pissed.

I already planned to take the car to the shop today for an oil change and much needed headlights. But, I didn't anticipate this! It's infuriating. And what's worse is navigating the taking the car to the shop, paying for it, shifting financial priorities around, getting to work by bus, metro AND walking in the way-too-early-for- this-shit heatwave and I want to scream! I am becoming aware of my frustrations about living alone. These are the times when not having a life partner to share the load is for the birds. Ms. Independent needs a vacation. Do you hear me? Oh, but I can't afford that. I forgot! How could I forget?

That wonderful feeling is definitely in my rear view mirror today. I guess life is taking the bitter with the sweet and trying to make the best of it. There will be shitty days! This is one of them.

But, I have lost 4 pounds!!! That counts something!

Have a much better day than mine!

Peace.

Wonderful Feeling

Who will buy this wonderful feeling?

I'm so high I swear I could fly

Me oh my, I don't want to lose it

So what am I to do,

to keep the sky so blue

There must be someone who will buy

__________________

I am in an exceptionally good mood today, and for no apparent reason. My house is a mess; I have not worked out this week like I hoped too; I spent way too much money getting my brakes fixed last weekend, which has thrown off all my other bills. But, I am in a great mood. I feel like going outside and skipping in the rain. (oh yeah, and it's a rainy day to boot--maybe I'm made for Seattle after all!)

Anyway, I'm having a wonderful day, enjoying life despite the fact that the things that we seem to think should make us happy aren't really happening for me at the moment. Begs the question, "What really makes you happy?"

While you're working on that question (as am I) here's hoping you have a wonderfully spectacular day and that it may fly in the face of all that will try to dampen your spirits.

Here's to skipping in the rain....barefoot!!

Peace.

Flightless (and Black) in Minneapolis

So much to say, so much time! I am stuck in Minneapolis...still!!! My flight out last night was nixed and I was bumped to the first available flight for this morning, which has turned out to be...guess what? DELAYED. Something about bad weather in Chicago (where I need to change planes) and crews needing to sleep. Anyway, I'm gonna be in this airport forever, so I have plently of time to write about my experience in the Midwest. (Sigh).

Let me just begin by saying that my frustration with not being able to leave Minneapolis was ultimately expressed with me pleading with the ticketing agent to get me to the EAST COAST. Didn't matter where: Philly, New York, Raleigh...hell, MIAMI! I really don't care, I'd find a way to get home. I just need to get to a place where people don't look at black people like we're martians! The Midwest is another world. One I am not too anxious to get back to.

Do you remember one of my earlier posts in which I mentioned that I lack much of the first hand experiences with racism that has shaped the perspectives of many in my community? Well...let's just say that somebody has decided that it's high time to catch Ms. Lexi up on the ways of the world. I have had one too many encounters this week that made me cock my head to the side with that puzzled, "Did s/he just say what I think s/he said?" look. And all too often, s/he had.

All of this has me giving a lot of my optimistic altruism with regards to race relations a second thought. I have been considering moving off of the east coast. I was actively considering (and still haven't ruled out) the pacific northwest area: Seattle or Portland. And since I'm traveling so much for work, I thought I'd keep an open mind about the cities that are quickly comprising my travel calendar, like Minneapolis.

I actually loved the city the first couple of days I was here. It's beautiful and clean, a booming metropolis. Quite frankly, nothing like I expected. I am drawn to big cities (except Buenos Aires, I can't put my finger on why I hated it, but I did). The more I visit the more I am convinced that I am a city girl to the core. Just like when I got to Seattle, in Minneapolis I dropped my bags and started pounding the pavement. I love, love, love being able to walk everywhere: coffee shops, banks, dry cleaners, movies...everything. I am created to live in some city's downtown. I thrive in the city. Even more in a city that has nature so close. Seattle stole my heart with the lakes and the ocean and the mountains all visible and accessible from the city. I expected that Minneapolis, in the land of 10,000 lakes, would bring me just as much joy. I had yet to meet the locals.

I've been in a conference all week (one of the best I've ever attended, replete with fodder for subsequent posts) so, primarily my contact has been with women from around the country who are all part of the movement to end violence against women. I've met intersting people, and strange people, and people (who still surprise me for 2006 in America) who obviously have had little or no contact with black people. I realize how much the east coast distorts one's impression of the US. I really don't feel like a 12%er in Chocolate City, (or anywhere else between NYC and Miami), but the further west (particularly midwest) I've traveled, the more apparent that 12% becomes.

I honestly don't know what the specific demographics of Minneapolis are, but I have not seen very many people of color at all. And, for the first, second, and THIRD time in my life, I have had to bob and weave and repeatedly reposition myself to get the person I was speaking to make eye contact with me, as acknowledgement of my existence. The ticketing agent at the airport literally spoke over my left shoulder, while blowing off my questions about re-booking my cancelled flight. I think I looked back 3 or 4 times to check to see if there was some emergency requiring DHS jumping off behind me, for which I gladly would have shut up and moved out of the way. But there was nothing.

When I add that experience to that of white women in the elevator of the Hilton-Minneapolis who looked at a group of professionally dressed black women and asked if we worked in the hotel because she was having problems getting an attendant to her room, the group from the Women of Color Network who dined together at a local restaurant having to wait 1 hour to get drinks in half-full restaurant with everyone else around us eating and drinking away and I'm left to wonder,"Um, is it just me or did 1964 not happen in Minnesota?"

The first smile, eye contact and respectful customer service I received was from the black front desk attendant who checked me out of the Hilton (where I obviously was an anomaly), the black ticketing agent who actually answered my questions and directed me to how I could get me flight arranged and booked so that I could get back to normalcy, and the black security agent who was so happy to see another black person that he left his post and walked me to my gate. Now, I know this dude was flirting, but at least I got a chance to ask him what in the world was going on around here. (Oh wait, I forgot the black shuttle driver who was playing Michael Jackson's greatest hits on the way to the hotel from the airport. And he was fine!) See any coincidences here? I've had it. You can have this town. I haven't been here long enough to do a full appraisal, but from what I've experienced, no thanks. I've seen enough.

This is but the backdrop for a more detailed conversation I'd like to incite about radicalism, pan-Africanism, black love, cultural competency, integration, tokenism, culturally specific organizations and much much more. I have to carve out more time to write because this trip has churned up a hurricane of ideas I need to flesh out.

I welcome any thoughts on the subjects I've just mentioned to prime my pump.

Anyone have experiences in the midwest? What's up with that?

Raqs Sharqi

Raqs Sharqi (The Dance of the East). Or, "belly dancing" for the uninformed like me, who just learned the proper term last night in my first raqs sharqi class. In a word....OUCH!!!!

But it was so much fun!! First, let me take you back a bit and bring you with me on this journey of inter-mingled pain and euphoria, sadistic self-care, and delusional self-love.

I think this all started for me that night at the Moroccan restaurant (see: February 3, 2006 post entitled, "Now that's just WRONG!"). I was partly enamored by the beauty and grace of the dancer that night and encouraged by the celebration of feminity, but, really, I was a more than a little determined to make the waiter who prophesied my 100% body fat free cousin's success in the art over my own eat his words. So with the perfect mixture of passion and motivation, off I went to my first class (with 4 other cousins--power in numbers!).

[Aside: I need anyone who is opposed to being named specifically in any of my future posts to let me know now. These generic references are driving me crazy...my readers will never be able to keep 5 cousins straight, let alone a host of other friends, if I don't start using names (or at least initials) LOL!]

Fast forward...All signed up and ready to begin a session of raqs sharqi (I like saying that), I attended the dance company's performance/recital on Saturday afternoon. Wow! This dance form is absolutely beautiful and mesmerizing, especially among the more skilled dancers (Shakira, et al). I was impressed with how well everyone executed their performance. They seemed like they were having a great time and the dancing seemed effortless (my lord, how wrong I was!) And, I was a little surprised by the confidence of a handful of performers. They got to wear flowers in their hair...and that ain't all they had in common. Let's just say that the art has worked its magic on them and given them waaaaaaaaaay more confidence than I would have about showing my bare mid-section on stage in front of a room full of people. They say this is about celebrating the body (all kinds of bodies), but I think I'm among the ones who still need convincing. There's no way in hell you would see me undulating my rolls on stage and to be quite honest I have nothing on a few of the flower donners. And here began, despite tumultuous internal warfare, the victory of my cynicism over optimism with regard to what I have previously referred to as "delusional self-love". More on that in a moment.

Class began long before classs began. I started taking it all in from the time I hit the door. I recognized a few of the faces I had seen on stage Saturday. Seeing the director in street clothes was astounding. This woman, Rachael (I can name her) has the most amazing silhouette you'll ever see (never mind how she moves), but last night in her jeans she just looked like anybody else-- your average mortal. In a way that gave me a little hope that this could actually turn out to be more than an exercise in entertainment by means of self-depreciation. Maybe she started out 60 lbs. overweight too....naaaah! I doubt it. But there's always hope.

Then there was this reporter there interviewing my cousins about what one hoped to get out of belly dancing, and about what the unnovice had already learned. The latter cousin and the studio manager went on about confidence, appreciation of the body, "looking forward to class more than seeing the boyfriend", celebration of feminity, empowerment... I mean it gushed! I was like, "Man! Is there crack on the other side of that door?" They really seemed to believe in the art form and all its benefits to and for women. I'm fighting the cynicism...I'm fighting...fighting hard....and then I changed into the spandex! Case closed. This would be a cynic's ride from here on out.

So we start class with a pep-talk from the director with the killer silhouette about how this is about celebrating bodies, all bodies, blah, blah, blah. My question: If that's the case, how come only 4 out of20 of us got the memo? I'm sorry. I need someone with rolls to tell me how much she loves her body, not someone with a 2 inch waist to tell me how I should love my rolls! We got the pep talk and the history and finally, it was time to dance!

OH MY GOD!!! Can somebody please call an ambulance?!!! Who knew a shimmy was so excruciating?!?!! Those women on the stage didn't look like they were focused on: pelvic tilt, low-v arms with golf ball spacers underneath, rolled back shoulders, chest high, chin low, soft fingers (not scary, rigid, I'm afraid to blink my eyes fingers), feet straight, dropped middle finger and thumb, stretch from the knees, and no hip wiggling to get a shimmy out!! I had muscle fatigue in places I didn't know I had muscles. And speaking of no muscles...can someone please explain to me how to excute a hip slide without bending my knees? Which muscle DOES that? I just need someone to tell my brain which muscle to tell to, "Go"! I swear I just stood there for a minute thinking, you've got to be kidding me, this must be some kind of joke. But, there she was, Ms. Ebony in the front of the room hip sliding away! It can be done apparently...somebody just needs to explain to my brain how to tell my body to do it. In short, it hurt. In truth, it was SO much fun!!!

After a while I forgot about the fat. Hell, pain was a much more significant factor. And, if nothing else, it was motivating. I think I'm going to love this, but I'm not ever going to perform these moves in front of anyone until I fall in love with my lesser body. There's just no sense in in loving this one...she's got to go!! I've got a lot of work to do and it's going to require a lot more than raqs, but I'm up for the challenge. I even ordered Billy Blank's Boot Camp! I think I've found my shot in the arm.

The best way I can describe the experience was standing, sadistic pilates at a comedy club. It was the perfect mix of pleasure and pain. It was absolutely hilarious and so much fun to be doing with the fam. I'm hooked. I can't wait for more. Bring on the torture! Oh, and it was torture for everyone, not just Ms. Fattycakes. That's makes it that much more fun. Misery loves company.

Let's shimmy!!!!

Oh...I'm country line dancing tomorrow night! Let's Tush Push!

Priorities, Hippies and Dreams

Two posts in one day! I'm rolling again.

I just realized that my travel schedule poses a problem for a greater joy I have happened upon for the spring. My cousins and I are taking a belly dancing class on Monday nights. (I'll show that freak of a waiter at the Moroccan restaurant!!) So, now I'm really considering trying to get out of the Miami conference (since it'll mean me missing 2 classes in a row.) This brings me back to a familiar theme with me, priorities.

I think we spend too little effort carving out time in our schedules for the things that truly bring us joy. I love dancing. When I think about it, I think I went out dancing 3 times last week. I haven't done that in years and I miss it. There are so many great places to dance in DC for cheap or for free and I really don't make enough time for it. Now, of course when I refer to dancing, I'm generally referring to latin dance, namely (but not exclusively) salsa, but I'm open to just about anything. I particularly like what my co-worker refers to as ethnic dances. The term makes me laugh because we're all ethnic! But I know what she means and so do most people. I'm just offended that Black American isn't included in her reference. (How many times have I said, "Don't make me get ethnic on you?") Anyway, I digress.

I've been talking about renting a cabin in the mountains for almost a year now. No, exactly a year now, because my cousin and I were supposed to go for my birthday last year...and here it is I'm almost upon that special day again. (June 6th for the head-scratchers....And don't you forget it!) I can't tell you the joy and peace I feel in the mountains, in the still of the trees, by a lake. God is more real to me there than anywhere. And, I figure if I can't bring myself to meet him at his house, I should at least make time to meet him in my preferred spot.

But the hustle and bustle of daily life wins out all too often. We run the hamster wheel trying to make a better life for ourselves and somehow in the process forget to live life!!! It's insane. I've had a much better year this year than in a long time when it comes to living, but I'm due for some more life in my life. I'm feeling my adventurous spirit (wander lust, Brigit calls it) surfacing in me again (Kim calls it Gemini). Part of me would be content to sell my car, live on a couch in a bording house somewhere (or on a relative's couch LOL) which will serve as my lauch pad as I travel the world with my compactly packed backpack and manageable hairstyle! I could have been a hippie! (Blippie, Omar calls it.) Really! I could. Minus the marijuana...not my style.

I was chatting with a couple of people about dreams today and I got very inspired. We forget our dreams all too often and get distracted. I think I'll spend some time today thinking about dreams -- if I could do whatever I wanted to without obstacles, what would it be? And then I'll try to figure out what's in my way. There's less and less these days and I'm starting to feel more motivated to get moving. What can I live without in order to live my dreams?

What about you?

Packing

I haven't posted in forever! I'm getting like my friends I make fun of who I've linked to my site for GOD only knows what reason. LOL


I'm gearing up for lots of travel over the next month and a half. That's pretty exciting, but it's mostly for work. I need to learn the art of living efficiently out of a suitcase. Any ideas? Here are my biggest challenges:

1. Hair care! I need a minimalist hair style that doesn't involve heavy bottled products or heavy, odd-shaped irons. I am already cursed with having to wash my hair several times a week (more in the summer) so the shampoo and conditioner are already weighing me down.
2. My computer. I swear I must have the heavist laptop known to man. Does anyone else have a Dell Inspiron 1300. I feel like it weighs a ton. My latest space saving stroke of genius was to put the laptop in my carry-on bag (goal: that this be my only bag, ever, even if I'm gone for a month). The problem is that in the airport I have to unpack the bastard and put it in it's own gray scanning tray!! It's hardly worth ditching the laptop bag.
3. Then there's shoes!! Now, I know the ladies understand me. I live at two extremes on this one: wear my lime green flip-flops with every outfit...or take the right shoes for every outfit! The middle ground is only pack black and wear the same shoes with everything...but I am trying SO hard to break free of the black (with little success).
4. Going out! Dressing for most conferences is easy (at least in my field), but what if I want to go out? Do I just continue to throw on the same cute top with the black slacks from the morning on every night? (Listen to me sounding like I have a social life! LOL) And, again, there's the shoes!!!
5. I have a growing accumlation of electronics that must travel with me too: power cord for laptop, cell phone charger, digital camera, battery charger, Epilady...They're space killers!

I need some help and fast. I've got Minneapolis, Boston, Miami, Gibsland (don't ask!), and Myrtle Beach in the next 6 weeks. I'm trying to find a way to slip Seattle and Atlanta in, but I'm not sure I can pull it off!

Is there and expert packer out there who can get a sistah downsized?!