HTML Literacy

Yay!!! I have successfully added a "Best of" pulldown to my sidebar.

THANKS ANDY!!!

I can't say that html makes any sense to me at all, but I'm at the very least functionally html illiterate. Thanks to my tutors!

I still don't know what my criteria will be for adding to that list, but I like having the option. I may be creating more work for myself...like updating the "What I'm Reading" section. I need to remove Life of Pi. Couldn't do it folks. I tried for 3 weeks and just couldn't get going. I finally asked someone how it ends...glad I didn't force myself through it. Lots of people thought it was great. I wanted to drown myself in the bathtub. Anybody read it? What did you think?

Well, that's it for today. I watched Food Network, read blogs, updated mine with a handy-dandy thanks to Andy best of list...and didn't pack a thing!

Have I mentioned that I need to be packed by Thursday because Friday morning I leave for vacation...and return the night before the move?

Packing Procrastination

This image really has very little to do with this post. I just switched to Firefox and am suddenly able to upload images in blogger again. I thought it was an ie issue, but I was able to upload images to my blog from other computers using ie. Oh, well. Don't know what that's about, but it's fixed. Internet Exlporer suck!

While this is a random photo from my pics, this is how I feel about my kitchen at the moment. I started packing yesterday with lots of help. We packed my bookshelf, my dishes, stemware, pots, pans and pictures and basically all that's left are my clothes and the food from the kitchen. I really don't have that much stuff. Books and dishes comprise the vast majority of my possessions. That's probably pathetic, but it's true. I love dishes because I adore entertaining. And books...well, they're books. Gotta love them.

But I have to pack the rest of the kitchen and clean it and that turns the place I have enjoyed so much into Hell's Kitchen. I really hate cleaning unless I am particularly motivated to do so ... like if 25 people will be at my house for dinner in 2 hours. I love a clean place and usually I am clean, if not neat and tidy, but "a place for everything, and everything in its place" is a torture mantra for me. I'm a slob. Shoes get kicked off at the door. Bags get dropped on my way to the bathroom. Clothes usually make it in the hamper unless I'm trying to go somewhere else while undressing, then they just land on the floor on the way. I pick them up when I have more time and am not preoccupied with another goal. It's just how I live. When I was a teenager my mom used to say that she didn't understand why I wasn't ashamed to have company in my bedroom when we couldn't see the floor. My thing was, if the don't like it, they don't have to come over. I've had tons of fun on top of mounds of dirty and clean laundry all intermixed. (Yeah, I pretty much sniff tested clothes to get dressed most mornings.) I told you I'd disgust you eventually with all my ladylikeness!

Anyway, since I'm so impulsive it's very hard to get this packing done until I'm feelin' it. When I feel it, it will all get in the boxes, perfectly protected and organized in a flash. But until I have that impetus, it's hell to think of all that remains to be done. It's not like I don't have the time to do it. It's just not what I feel like doing at the moment. What do I feel like doing at the moment? Why, sitting here on my couch and watching Food Network. All. Day. Long. And, it's probably what I'm going to do unless Amani, my friend with limitless energy and drive and get-to-it-ness comes over and whips me into shape. She's a slave driver, I tell you. But she gets the job done and her house never looks like mine. I think she's coming by, so I may have to live on the hours and hours of Food TV I saw yesterday.

Which brings me to why I must have cable TV in my new apartment regardless of whether or not I can afford it. I don't need a cable box or a movie channel. I don't need On Demand or TiVo or whatever. I really only need one channel: Food Network. I have the Sex and the City DVD's coming to me, so honestly, what more does a girl need? I think the cable companies should sell individual channels. My bill would be all of $5/mo. with FoodTV plus one news channel. That's all I need. You think Comcast will go for it?

I think I have procrastinated enough. It's time to go and take my hourly glance at the kitchen to assess all that needs to be done....and then return to my FTV.

Peace.

My Weirdness

So, since I'm just waiting for it to be 6pm (see previous post) I'll share the list of weird things about me I came up with last night. I was tagged to do this a long time ago, but I can never remember all of it at once. Please feel free to add anything I've forgotten. Here goes:

1. I get nauseous in the medicine aisle of the drugstore or supermarket. I literally have about a 3 minute limit to find what I'm looking for before I start to sweat, my mouth starts to water and I get unbearably queasy. I have to swallow like crazy to keep from throwing up all over the Sudafed. Yuck. I'm getting sick thinking about it.
2. I am impulsive to an extreme fault. I remember when I first started to drive I was out riding my 12-speed. I dropped my bike in the driveway, as always and ran in the house for something. I got a phone call to come do something more exciting, obviously, so I asked if I could drive mom's car. She said yes. I jumped into her New Yorker and backed out of the garage, right over my bike! Yes, I saw it. Yes, I knew it was there. Yes, I could have just moved it. But that would have slowed me down. So, I ran over it and went on my way.
3. I pee on myself if I can't laugh out loud. I have one of the most obnoxious laughs known to man. It involves a high-pitched scream, followed by normal laughter and occasional snorts. It can not be contained. If I am someplace where it is inappropriate for me to burst out laughing, better pray nothing funny happens. If I absolutely can not laugh. I'll wet them! Can't tell you how many of my undies have been tossed in public restrooms, how many church pews probably have a funny smell by now, or how many times I've had to buy a new outfit on the fly because I've wiped out the one I'm wearing. Kegel's have helped. I'm down to minor seepage. It's best that I just laugh.
4. I never watched cartoons as a kid. I thought they were stupid or for boys or something. I don't know what most people are talking about when they make references to their favorite episodes. But, I saw every episode of Great Chefs of New Orleans and Dinner with Julia!!
5. I never cry when people die. I've tried to figure this out. It's kinda like to me death is a part of life, so no big shocker. Except once. I've mentioned this before. My boyfriend from 15-18 was killed when I was in college. I cried like crazy forever. In retrospect, he was without a doubt the love of my life. R.I.P. Sean. Te Quiero!
6. I'll eat or drink behind just about anyone. I had no intention of putting this on the list. But my friends insist that this is weird. Gross even. I really don't care. As long as you aren't visibly repulsive or infected or something, I'll take a bite off of your fork, or let you try my drink. No big deal. Now, kids with snotty noses offering me the spit soaked oreo in their hand...that's a no!! A few weeks ago I walked into Tania's kitchen to take some medicine. I grabbed a cup of water on the counter and took the pill. She was grossed out because she thought it was my cup that had sat out all night. I told her that in fact I didn't know whose cup it was. She flipped out??? What? It was water!!
7. I totally live by the 10 second rule. That should be no shocker. BUT, have no fear, I am an immaculate chef. I'd never subject anyone else to my apparently weird personal ingestion practices. Don't start whispering in the corners about what dish Lexi brought, ok you germaphobes??!!

That's all I can think of at the moment. Feel free to add to my weirdness. I know I'm nutz!

Friday Ambivalence

I love Fridays and hate them all at the same time. On one hand, it's FRIDAY!!!!! The week is over, bring on the weekend. Stay out/up all night. Sleep in/out all day Saturday and then get your to do list checked off. It's a taste of heaven every seven.

But then you have to get through Friday in order to get to Friday and that's the part that sucks. I don't want to work. I'm watching the clock tick by slower than ever. I just want to BE OUT!

You'd think I have some great plans for the weekend. I don't. I'm supposed to be giving a swimming lesson tonight, but I haven't heard from the students. I've been invited to go bowling (whooo hoooo!!!) LMAO. (I actually have my own ball with my name engraved on it.) And, I'm spending Saturday packing my apartment. I just want to know that I don't have to be here at this desk wishing I was anywhere but here!

What are you guys doing this weekend? Anything fun?

Locals, let me know if you want to do something. I need some excitement.

Wanna help pack? (wink, open-mouthed wink!)

Voting Rights Act...and Privilege, I guess (UPDATED)

Today President Bush signed legislation extending for 25 years the Voting Rights Act, the historic 1965 law which opened polls to millions of disenfranchised Americans by outlawing discriminatory voting practices in the South.

This is the first news I'm smacked with on the radio as I drove into work today. It disturbs me and I'm trying to figure out why I am so bothered.

I think I am annoyed by how reporters described the fanfare and celebration on the White House lawn as this bill was being signed. What the heck are they so happy about? I don't understand, and am quite frankly pissed off when the privileged in this country do things to correct heinous, egregious wrongs in our history and celebrate as if they've had this great idea to do someone a freaking favor. This was not a favor. Every state in the union had granted universal suffrage by 1920!! Why the hell did it take an Act in 1965 to make voting rights practices fair? And why are they still unfair in many jurisdictions? (Shall I call your attention to the little voting registration mishaps in Florida that led to dufus, bill signing, gangster-pig W's very own election? How soon we forget!) Check this out:

History of American Suffrage

15th Amendment (1870): all races may vote
19th Amendment (1920): all sexes may vote
23rd Amendment (1961): residents of the District of Columbia can vote for President but not for congress
24th Amendment (1964): Made poll tax illegal
26th Amendment (1971): Reduced voting age from 21 to 18

Now, I'm not usually one to engage in political banter because I'm just too fickle. I'm registered independent because there are elements of each party line that matter to me and somehow I don't want to feel obligated to one party or another (and yes, I know I may register with a party and still vote for whoever I want, and that it wouldn't hurt since I'm cut out of the primaries right now anyway. Thanks.) But I'm making an exception for this one. I had to say something because I'm annoyed.

Privilege is an uncomfortable topic. But it is a fact of life. Period. It's not an American reality, a western reality, or a human reality for that matter, it's a fact of life...all life, even in the animal kingdom. The difference with humans is that we have choices about what we do with our privilege. I believe (and many would disagree) that we all have at least one form of privilege. I can think of several for me: I'm heterosexual, college educated, bilingual, American, middle class. Of course, these only matter in certain contexts and in contrast to others with less privilege, but it's privilege nonetheless. For example, as middle class I am only more privileged than someone of a lower class. Being American only comes with privilege in contexts that value American citizenship (inside and outside of this country). But, certainly there is some privilege ascribed even to me, a Black, overweight, woman in a white man's world.

I was sitting in a meeting yesterday of representatives from several governmental agencies and NGO's who either receive or administer funds for anti-violence against women work. There was one "big wig" from the governor's office there who kept answering his cell phone, talking loud, walking out of the meeting, etc. Because he could. He was the man. He was in a room full of mostly white women, a handful of minority women and one black man. A black woman with a question about making sure those serving the interests of underserved populations were brought to the table as major funding decisions were being made was blown off by this man with, "yeah, we'll get to that. We'll bring them in later." He completely dismissed her and her point that later won't do because that is exactly what keeps these populations marginalized. He blew her off and called for the meeting to move on, and damnit if they didn't do just that. And HE WASN'T EVEN RUNNING THE MEETING!! I was furious.

We all have choices to make to be responsible (or not) with our privilege. It's a difficult choice to dis avail oneself of privilege. I don't know if I can recall at the moment one instance where I've done it myself. But it seems to me like those with the most privilege have abundant opportunities to choose to lay it down, and don't. I catch a lot of flack for the statement I'm about to make, but I really believe it to be true: the only reason blacks in this country have the rights we do is because privileged whites took up our cause and said enough is enough. We didn't take our freedom, it was given to us. This does not in anyway diminish the work of freedom fighters and civil rights activist. They were absolutely (and continue to be) essential to creating consciousness in the society. But the Voting rights Act of 1965 didn't become law until the privileged decided to give up lily white American suffrage. It's just the truth.

Now why are they celebrating that? I think the signing of the bill should have been akin to Sorry Day.

UPDATE:
For a good taste of white male privilege in a non-American context, watch Rabbit Proof Fence.

Any thoughts?

Soliciting Suggestions

OK. This is my 72nd post, I think. I want to add a Best Of list to my sidebar. The problem is that I can't bring myself to be presumptuous enough to pick which posts should go there. So, I'm soliciting your suggestions.

Which posts should go on my Best Of list? Which are your fav's? And maybe a word or two about why. (OK, maybe that's asking too much.)

Humility Disclaimer:
Please feel free to suggest that all of this is some shit. I will totally understand.

Fish Filet, Large Fries, Double-Scoop Cherries Jubilee/Butter Pecan (UPDATE)

That's what I had for dinner tonight in the car on the way home from 2 hours of bellydancing. I am so off the wagon!

What's worse is after the Mickey D's, I actually called my cousin (read: sponsor) to beg her to stop me before I turned into the Baskin-Robbins. She was in the shower. Oh well. Truth be told, I would have just informed her of my impending relapse. That's just the kind of person I am. Sponsors would never work for me. I pretty much do what I want to do. Period. And I'm guaranteed not to do something I may even want to do if somebody tells me to do it. It's sad, but true. It's me.

Like once, during one of my innumberable first weeks of a workout routine, I was swimming laps with ex. He thought he would "encourage" me to push myself a little harder. I think I'd set out to do 20 lengths and as I approached the end of the 19th (on the opposite side of the pool from the locker room), he is standing over my head yelling something ridiculous like, "You can do it! Come on. Just one more. Make it count! Yahdah, yahdah, yahdah." Wrong. Answer. I politely stopped at the wall, looked up at him, pulled off my goggles, got out of the pool and walked around to the other side of the pool to go to the locker room and shower. He was out done and couldn't understand why I didn't just finish one lousy length--my very own self-imposed goal. My answer: "That's precisely why I never did team sports. Can't make me do it!!"

What is that? Stubbornness? Sure. But it's more. Can somebody explain it? I've always been this way and I'll bet I always will be. Yet another reason not to have kids. I might end up with one just like me and be obliged to kill her.

Anyways. I'll be in the gym at 5:30am. Come hell or high water. And, I better not check responses to the post before I go, because somebody's bound to say something to leave me no other choice but to keep my fat a$$ right in my warm bed.

Good night.

Oh, and to add fuel to the fire, I eat all this ice cream despite the fact that I am totally lactose intolerant. (I think I take stubbornness to a new level.)

UPDATE: Well, maybe I was a little ambitious when I made that, "come hell or high water" statement. The were no floods or brimstone...but no gym either. :-( I'll get it together.

I did buy boxes yesterday and plan to knock out hella packin' tonight. That counts for something. Right?

Voyeur??

Hey! Somebody is either stalking me or really, really enjoys my writing. Not sure which, but help a sister out. What Marylander with Comcast cable internet read my entire blog on 7/22 starting at 8:30pm and again at 11pm? I'm dying to know who finds me so interesting. It's killing me.

Leave comments people! At least say, "hi!" or "kiss off, Alexis". Something?!?!?

Oh. Maybe ex hired a P.I. to scope out something incriminating. I guess that's a thought.

And here's another thought: I'm going to be able to control my very own, individual, personal, private, exclusive, thermostat in my new apartment! Yay!!! Can't wait.

OK. Who's reading my blog and not commenting? Out with it!!!

Peace.

Crisis Lesson and Old Friends

Last week was pivotal. I feel like I faced my homelessness crisis with unaccustomed, accidental courage and determination that was almost instinctual. It surprised me because, though it is unquestionably the way I tend respond to others' crises, it is rarely, if ever, the way I respond to my own. I found tremendous peace in what seemed to me a moment of profound realization and confirmation that it is time to get moving, in more ways than one.

That happens in life so often, you know--at least to me. I can spend months, even years thinking of what I would love to do, or what I need to do and not really feel motivated to make any moves towards it. Then, out of nowhere comes the catalyst I need to get it in gear and make the necessary moves towards a desired end. Thank God for catalysts. I need them. I don't know about you. I think that's how I'll re-envision crisis for myself...as a catalyst.

My world has been in this state of perpetual metamorphasis for a couple of years now, particulary in this last year and a half. So much is changing: my marital status, my family dynamics, my career path,housing, my circle of friends, my attitude and convictions. This amount of change was overwhelming to me at one point. But now it excites me. It fills me with hope because I feel like I'm moving forward. I'm making progress. Growing. Becoming. That's it, becoming. I feel like I'm in the process of becoming who I am intended to be, who I'm created to be. There have been bumps and ravines in the road to impede the process (to totally derail it even) and send me down a completely other road, but I feel like I'm finally gaining my footing...and not just scrambling to my feet as think I've been doing for about the last 2 years.

I feel like essential pieces of me, of my life, are falling into place in such a way that I gain courage to hope for more, try more, expect more, believe more, do more, be more. I notice myself whining and crying less about what has gone wrong and talking and dreaming more about what can be, about what is becoming. It's a wonderful place to be, but foreign just the same.

And, more and more I am surprised by new opportunities to reconcile and heal pieces of the past. Sometimes they are pieces I have long forgotten. Other times they are the pieces that stay on my mind the most. I realize that I am so not the one in control of this process, at all.

I spent Friday and Saturday with my bestest girlfriends from elementary and junior high school. The last time we were all in the same room for something other than a wedding or funeral has to have been 16 or 17 years ago. They have remained close, but as I traversed down the road of SuperChristiandom I hung out with them less and less and eventually lost contact altogether. There have been random phone calls here and there, maybe 10 in all, but essentially I've been separated from the pack for all this time. It was SO good to hang out with them. I don't even know where to start...

First of all, the only reason I ended up with them in the first place is because Shellie happened to read my blog this week and thought I could use a martini. She was planning a martini party at her place Friday and invited me. I assumed that Cecily and LaShawn would be there, but I wasn't sure. They were. And I'm just getting home now, at 2:something Sunday morning! I have not laughed so hard in sooooo long. Talk about reconnecting with people who know all your mess. It was absolutely a riot. Shellie, the historian of the group, broke out the photo albums and it was on. There are so many stories!! Some would have ordinarily been extremely shameful for me. But instead they just were. They have lost the power to make me doubt who I am. And if that's not healing, I don't know what is.

This was the first time in my adult life that I felt like I could be with these girls and just be me. I didn't have to play the type-cast role of the "good girl/church girl". I didn't feel like I needed to make excuses for where I am in life, or hide where I am in life. I didn't feel like I needed to say the right thing, be the right thing, think the right thing. I just showed up, was who I am, where I am and it was the best time I've spent with them ever.

The funny thing is, they were exactly the same; which reinforced the truth that this need to be something else, to be someone else was completely intrinsic. They have never done anything to make me believe I couldn't be myself with them, but because of my own shame I chose to hide. And I've missed out. We talked about what has been some really shameful, painful stuff for me and they didn't flinch. They could take it. They could handle Lexi with all her warts. They weren't shaken. They weren't appalled. They didn't try to fix me or change me. That's the stuff true friends are made of. I'm sorry I lost sight of that for so long.

Cecily married one of our buddies from our Jr. High school days. In 1993 he chose to launch a one-man protest of my relationship with ex. He's known him since childhood and when he learned that I was dating him (at 20) he called me, asked me to excuse him for his unusual insertion of himself into my personal life, and begged me to reconsider. I blew him off. He wrote me off in silent protest, until today. LOL. This was the first time I've seen him in, man, 20 years probably. I had forgotten all about his opposition to the relationship until this year. Yeah, I guess I am one of those who needs a brick to fall on my head to get it.

I think I may have mentioned before how great my friend are. I need to add Cecily, Shellie and LaShawn back to that list....and Keith.

I'll stand by this until my dying day: Man's greatest desire is to be fully known and still loved and accepted. His greatest fear--that if fully known he'll be rejected.

Maybe you guys got the memo on this long before I did, but this is good stuff for me. And new stuff. It's so much easier and refreshingly fulfilling to just be who and where you are--and to hell with anybody who can't flow with you because of it. So simple, but it's taken me a lifetime to learn. It's one of those things you know and can tell other people to do, but to do it yourself requires you to bleed, to ache, to mourn, to heal, to grow. Living it means that I must be the first to choose to accept me and love me as I know myself more fully. It requires that I cease to reject the me I know.

It's now 4:39am and I haven't the slightest clue about the coherency about what I've just written. I need sleep. I'll update and edit if I need to...after slumber.

Good night.

Therapy

Although, my former therapist might disagree...something about boundaries and exhibitionism? WTH?

Update on Homelessness

I found a place!!! I can move in in less than a month and it's in a great spot where I feel like I can run early in the mornings alone, and come in late at night without being attacked by rats, roaches, robbers and rapists! The essentials.

And, it's right across the parking lot from Tania and Kwesi! Yay!! I'll need them close by, because I'll be starving to death as my entire budget just shifted to the "lodging" category. Food has become a luxury. This might be the best fitness plan of all!

Thanks for all of the support. I never really imagined that the blogosphere would become such a supportive community. This is cool. Appreciation and warm, fuzzy feelings to all.

I'm in a great mood today. I'm motivated to stop selling myself short and to market myself in fields that will pay me what I'm worth. Another journey altogether.

Sure hope the boss doesn't know about my blog.

Have a great day!!!

BTW - have I mentioned that I have the best friends in the world?!

"You know you've got the greatest friends when the only time they make you cry is when you're laughing too hard!"

Annoyed, Angry and ... Homeless!!!!

I am absolutely annoyed right now. Annoyed and angry. Probably to the point that I shouldn't be writing a post for fear of having to go back and delete it later. But, I've taken a hiatus from my journals right now, so this will have to do. Damn. I should have done this blog anonymously...oh well, too late!

I just got news that I need to move again. This will be my FOURTH move since I separated from my husband in April '05, and it just throws all the ugliness of this whole stupid divorce right back in my face. Don't you hate that? One minute you're sailing along in life honkey-dorey and then, wham! You get slammed with all the crap you've been trying to shove to the corners of your mind, with some success frankly. Well, here I am at my wham.

I've had a great living situation since January. I rent a basement apartment at a rate you wouldn't believe, but, against my better judgment, I rented the place without a formal lease. Only a verbal agreement of 30 days notice, at the will of either party. Well, I'm on the short end of that notice. The owners have let me know that they want to use the space again and that we will talk about a move out date this weekend. That's fine. It's their place. There's no lease. What am I gonna do? No need getting too bothered, all good things must come to an end. But I am bothered...

I'm bothered because I suspect that there is more to the story than I'm being told, and I don't ever expect to hear the whole story honestly. I'm bothered because my ex still lives in the house we bought with only MY name on the mortgage. Him living there isn't the problem, I couldn't stay in that house another second. The problem is that he pays the mortgage when he gets good and ready. And guess whose credit rating bites the f- - -king dust month by month as he screws me financially (I'm sure to his immense pleasure)? And for the 9 millionth time: NO! There's not a damn thing I can do about it until one year from my separation date. (Yeah, it was April, but I lost my mind for a second back in October, so the clock started over). Maryland is the worst state to get a divorce in!!! Hear me people. Divorce elsewhere!!!

Furthermore, my do-gooder, tree-hugging, save the world heart has me in a job making far less money than I'm worth, for the sake of "making a difference in the world" and "doing something that matters." Screw doing something that matters right now!!! It's expensive as hell to live alone in the Washington, DC area. I want peace and quite and to be able to walk around my house naked...so I'm not the best candidate for a roommate. I've considered all that I can sell and what I can use that money to pay off to be able get enough wiggle room in the budget to afford the huge rent rate hike that's coming like gangbusters, and while I know that this is just life...it sucks butt right now!

I've already e-mailed 2 former employers to try to lock down a part-time gig (which will surely blow my fitness schedule to ashes), put feelers out for a potential roommate (who won't be offended or turned on by my nakedness), called daddy to find out what if anything can be done with this credit situation of mine, searched for apartments without roaches, rats, robbers or rapists, cried about 3 tears (cuz, that's all I'm willing to give to this shit anymore), and I still don't feel any better.

Nothing like the threat of homelessness to light a fire under one's ass, huh? I've been meaning to look into what I want to do with the rest of my life as I face being alone in this big bad world, having to solely provide my own roof, food, shelter, clothing, entertainment, gas, loan repayments, and the like. I hate that I "shared" my life with someone for so long. It has been so debilitating. I lived at home until I got married (at 25), commuted for college, and this last year has been the only time I've been on my own and completely responsible for myself, ever! It's hard. I'm a late bloomer, I know, and learning life lessons all at once. But I need something to give.

OK. I'm done complaining for the night. I think.

Have a better night than me, please!!

Make it Stop!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am itching!!! Again! It's been going on for at least a year now, and I am officially about to die! "What's been going on?" you ask. These dang-blasted hives! I have tried to identify what causes mild outbreaks on my arms some days and full-blown hive attacks from my neck to my ankles on other days. I've tried avoiding: dairy, mushrooms, coke, coffee, citrus acid, Corona (my God I had the worst outbreak ever after 3 Coronas one night) and God knows what else over the past year and I still get them. They'll go away for a few days, maybe even a week or two and then, they're back. I've even gotten them on days I've eaten absolutely nothing!

I'm tired of looking like I have fleas as I scratch constantly in public because I CAN'T HELP IT! Make it stop. Somebody. Anybody.

I've had allergy tests (the blood ones not the 200 pin prick ones) and nothing! I don't know of one thing I'm allergic to. But this is about to make me insane.

Anybody get hives? Anybody know how to get RID of them?

Anorexic Me!

You'll have to read the next post to understand why this hideous pic is here. I couldn't get it to upload in Blogger, so I had to Blog This from Picasa and here it is in a new post.

Anyway, here I was 119 lbs., lightheaded and miserable. Never going back here!!!

 

Getting Healthy Progress and Other Stuff

I think I just have random thoughts today. It remains to be seen if this will take coherent shape...

I'm at home today doing absolutely nothing. I took off today and yesterday. I planned on taking a long weekend at the beach, but plans fell through in a weird way (death of travel buddy's grandmother). The weird part is that she AND her mother (whose mom died) still went to the beach anyway. I love it! The shift in days just didn't work out for me. So, I am home, on my couch reading blogs in between workouts, and showers, and healthy meals. I'm in heaven.

The getting healthy stuff is coming along nicely. I'm finally over the "I just started working out; I hope I can stick to it" hump. I've kicked into, "I'm loving this and I don't feel right without it." Now, I have to work at not becoming crazy-compulsive about it because, as I have mentioned before, I'm a Gemini. I live at the extremes. All or nothing.

It's been good. I still won't diet, but I filled the house up with good food. The 'rents contributed last night. They bought all this seafood and steaks, so my freezer's packed. Thanks guys! ( I really need guests for meals now.) I've been cooking and taking lunch and eating small meals many times a day. I've had ice cream 3 times this week, cuz I'm gonna. No point in pretending like I'm giving it up. Not gonna happen. But I want my body back. I used to be a size 4 when I was anorexic. Maybe I'll post my anorexic Lexi picture. I'll have to think about it. Now, I'm a full size 16. I'll be happy to settle around an 8 or 10. I'm just genetically not designed to be ultra thin. I love to be naked (TMI, I know), and I'm comfortable being naked now. I just want to walk around my house with less giggles. Sometimes I walk to my kitchen wondering if there's an earthquake. I love the boobs though. I don't know if I want to let those go. I've gone from a B to a DD, and while I'll be happy to lose at least one of those Ds. I don' want to go back to a B. We shall see. I do want to be able to turn to the side without being able to count rolls of back fat, though.

OK. Enough gross, fat girl imagery. I feel stuff tightening up already. I love, love, love weight training. Free weights especially. I could bodybuild if it weren't for the...um....diet. Anyway, weight lifting is a key component to my workout regimen along with kickboxing, bellydancing, jogging...yeah, that's about it for now. Some hiking when I can get my friends to get up early on Saturday mornings and go. Doesn't happen too often. I'm enjoying it. I weighed myself earlier this week: BAD IDEA!!! I had gained 4 pounds. And, as many times as I've done this, I know about gaining muscle and what that does, but this got into my psyche. It took me a whole day to shake it. I weighed myself again today and the pounds are gone. Thank GOD!!! My official weigh in with my trainer is on Aug. 2nd, I think. I'll keep you posted. (As if you give a damn!)

I've had a lot of time to be alone with my thoughts today. I realized after the last post that I've been avoiding solitude. That's why these two days have been good for me. They've gotten me to settle into myself again and to eliminate some of the distractions I create to keep from thinking about what's really on my heart. Like, I have a cousin who is really hurting and going through a lot right now. I've had a wall up when it comes to reaching out to her. I can't really explain it, but today I felt compelled to reach out. I text messaged her since she doesn't take many phone calls. I hope it makes a difference. I love her and am worried about her. But, I think she wants nothing to do with me at the moment.

And, I felt like I needed to be transparent with a friend about some things that are going on with me. I was able to do that today and it feels great. I can not over emphasize the pricelessness of true intimacy. It may not be possible to reach intimacy in all your relationships. But, I am learning that you can surely invite it by being authentic. She invited me last night. I took the bait and I'm so glad I did. I love you, girl!

These are the things that make life worth living. Even my concern about my cousin who probably hates me right now. All I have to offer is me. The real me. I'm sorry that the truth is often painful. But I've lived the pain of the lies for too long. I wonder if I've been selfish in my truth-telling. This stuff is hard. When is the truth too much?

That's all I'm thinking about today.

Any thoughts?

My Stony Heart

Today I find myself in a place I’ve successfully avoided for quite a while now, in the deepest parts of my heart where I’m fully aware of my vulnerabilities. Fear of hurting keeps me out of this place, but several things have happened in the last two days that make being here unavoidable. I’m facing, once again, the agony of hope.

Things kicked up for me yesterday when I met with the director of an organization in Baltimore that provides support to women involved in prostitution. My heart breaks for these women. I’ve had to wrestle with my own prejudices about why or how women end up in prostitution. I could go on about that one issue, but there’s more that I need to say, so I’ll flesh that out at another time. Suffice it to say that I’m filled with tremendous compassion for these women. And fear. I’m afraid of what is lurking in my heart. I’m afraid of leading the upcoming focus group with them. I don’t understand their situation. And, while I know that the vast majority of these women (100% according to the director) are survivors, I’m not sure how our stories are similar. And, I’m even more afraid that they aren’t very different. And there’s more…

I’ve worked with sex workers before, in DC. In my mind, there was a personal distance between them and me and my story. A cushion of sorts that I don’t have in Baltimore. At the risk of revealing more of my story in this forum than many may think is appropriate: my husband once informed me that he could, “get a blowjob on any corner of Baltimore city for $20”. I’ll refrain from explicitly stating whether or not he admitted to ever availing himself of the opportunity, but, you can imagine that there’s only one reason for me to be bringing it up. So, can you imagine my emotions entering a room with these ladies, with their stories intersecting with mine in more ways than I care to admit? And there I will be, to serve them, to inform them of the availability of civil legal services for sexual assault survivors (ie., to help them sue, divorce, get restraining orders against, get compensation from, gain immigration status in spite of their attackers.) How does this happen? Is this irony? Fate?

And then, last night, I am talking to a friend who was telling me how heartbroken he was for his cousin and his wife because they are separated and only the cousin feels like fighting for the marriage. His words were so filled with hope for what could be if both were willing to fight. I almost wrote him off as naive and idealistic, since he's never been married, but I could really see that he believes the power of forgiveness, and in forever. That conversation, coupled with Tania’s post yesterday haunted me. I feel this poking at my stone cold heart. I hear a voice cajoling, “You want to hope. You want to believe. You know you do.” And I’m afraid the voice is right. Here’s what I want, if I should dare to be so foolish as to put it in writing: companionship, intimacy, amazing sex and a partner for life (thanks India!). Forever! I just finished telling a friend who’s wrapping up his divorce how I don’t believe in forever, that there’s no point in ever trying again. Today, I so want to be wrong about that.

And then there’s the church. Another institution I’ve practically given up on. (By the way, for those who don’t know me personally, I was married for 7 years to a man I pastored a church with for 9.) I’m so angry, disgusted and disappointed with “Christians” I could spit nails. I’ve been blogging rather irregularly about my journey with that on Unpacking Faith. Well, today I listened to my friend Kwesi’s audioblog of his experiences in New Orleans. He’s there on a missions trip. He shares my disappointment with the church, but unlike me, he is still actively engaged. His experience has called me to hope, even for the church. And sometimes this is even harder than hoping for companionship, intimacy, great sex and a partner for life (ideally in one person!). Sorry, I needed to fulfill my insatiable need to be irreverent at least once a day.

Anyway, I’m a mess today. I feel my heart again. It’s there. It’s still beating. It still hurts some, aches from longing, bleeds with compassion, and agonizes over my abundant flaws.

I’m so glad I have so many people around me who love me through this all.

Thanks.

Mujer Con Pantalones

This is my favorite song in LIFE! I’ve loved it for the last year. And, while I get tired of things quickly (the Gemini), I can’t get enough of this song. It is my THEME song and I still put it on “REPEAT” for hours in my car.

I apologize to my readers who don’t speak Spanish. A translation would not do this song justice. I’ll give you the gist:

Image: A woman who wears pants.

Idea: I need a woman who knows who she is and still knows how to love her man. She doesn’t need to cling to me for life. I don’t need to constantly reassure her of my feelings for her. I can trust her with my heart. She’s a complete lady in public and a vixen where it matters. None of that overly religious or superstitious foolishness. She has her own opinions and her own way of thinking. She’s my intellectual peer. She’s all the women I’ve ever loved wrapped up in one package. And, by the way, she’s not afraid to show a little leg every now and then. I like a woman who wears pants!!

I am dying to throw a party with this as the theme. It will be a liberation celebration, if you know what I mean. But today I feel the song pulsing through my veins. So, I share it with you. To all the Mujeres con Pantalones! Viva!


Mujer con Pantalones
por Carlos Ponce


La que no me reclame como propiedad privada
Aquella quien confié los secretos de mi almohada
Que no tenga que probarse a cada instante lo que siento
Una dama frente el mundo, y en la intimidad que esa mujer sea puro fuego

La que no deba perfumarse cada día en agua bendita
Y que siempre tenga un si al deshojar la margarita
Yo la acepto con excusas y hasta agenda pa’ pensarme
Esa misma que le de luz a mi vida cada día al entregarse

A mi me gusta la mujer con pantalones
Que tenga siempre su opinión y sus razones
Que a la hora de amar, sea una ráfaga de viento
Que me arrulle el corazón con sentimiento
A mi me gusta la mujer con pantalones
Mi complemento cuando lleguen decisiones
Ella es todas las que ame en una sola mujer
La que me salva la vida cada día en su querer

Dicen que en cuestión de gustos no hay disgustos
Si me sigue la corriente yo le invento hasta lo absurdo
Si el carácter no anda bien, en el silencio esperare
A que pase la tormenta y en la cama nos podamos entender

A mi me gusta la mujer con pantalones
Que tenga siempre su opinión y sus razones
Que a la hora de amar, sea una ráfaga de viento
Que me arrulle el corazón con sentimiento
A mi me gusta la mujer con pantalones
Mi complemento cuando lleguen decisiones
Ella es todas las que ame en una sola mujer
La que me salva la vida cada día en su querer
En su querer

(Hey, hey, hey, hey)

(A mi me gusta la mujer con pantalones)
A mi me gusta la mujer con pantalones
(A mi me gusta la mujer con pantalones)
A mi me gusta la mujer con pantalones
(A mi me gusta la mujer con pantalones)

Que no deje de ser tierna
Ni enseñar un poco de pierna
Cachondita, cosa rica. No me dejes de querer

(A mi me gusta la mujer con pantalones) Así me gusta
(A mi me gusta la mujer con pantalones) Así, me gusta
(A mi me gusta la mujer con pantalones) Así me gustan
(A mi me gusta la mujer con pantalones) A mi me gusta
(A mi me gusta la mujer con pantalones) A mi me gusta la mujer
con pantalones

I've spent too much time trying to figure out how to add the mp3 file to this post. Sorry, I couldn't figure it out. If anybody knows how, please help a sista out!

Summer, Summer, Summertime!

I have an increasing number of friends who have children who are ages I can actually remember being myself. This makes me feel ancient! And it brings back so many memories. Today, I was talking to my friend who has an 11 year old son and a 9 year old daughter. They are what we used to call "latch-key" kids (and the cutest kids you ever want to know!) Today, they called her at work, bugging her to come home. (I am assuming so that they could go outside to play.) I was puzzled for a second. I tried to understand why exactly they couldn't just go out and play. That's what I did when I was their age. Especially in the summers. This quick second of perplexity was followed by a sage realization that times, indeed, have changed significantly.

Do you remember summers at their age? I sure do. I grew up in Washington, DC. I didn't go to summer camp and enrichment programs (except for maybe once each). They were for the "other" kids whose parents could afford to send them. We had a free grandmother, so the only structured activity we had was two weeks of Vacation Bible School, which was a must (and boy did I learn a lot in VBS that ain't have nothing to do with the Bible!) During those 2 weeks my brother and I would go to church and then spend the rest of the day with Granny and our cousins outside her DC row house. We'd play double-dutch, freeze tag, tonk, dodgeball and "do cheers" on the sidewalk until the street lights came on and we smelled like boars in heat. The only time we were inside was during a thunderstorm, during which we had to be completely quiet, sit or lay on a "palette" (read: blanket) on the floor in the middle of the living room, with no lights, and everything electric removed from the socket. There was definitely no talking on the phone, and except for the fact that we giggled like crazy because this was all so ridiculous, it was basically silent (well, except for Granny's random hums.) Did I mention that we were no less than 6 cousins at any given point in time? Very possibly upwards of 10 if all were present and we counted the kids we brought home with us from VBS (whose parents also obviously needed free child care!)

The rest of the summer was spent hanging out at home doing what I thought all kids did during the summer. Mom and dad were at work (well, until I was 8 and then my dad had a terrible accident in which he was burned severely and out of work for years). Now that I think about it, I don't really remember where dad was after 8. Maybe he was home after all. Maybe he was doing errands. I don't remember....the point is that I remember being home alone during the day with my brother. All we were required to do before going outside to play was to have our chores done and call mommy at work to tell her where we'd be. This could have been anywhere: outside on the block, across the street at a friend's house, at a friend's house we had to walk 3 miles to, downtown at Vendor's Mall buying all kinds of worthless junk, riding the subway to the movies at Tenleytown, or pretty much anywhere in DC, MD or VA that had a subway stop, or my favorite-one block over at my brother's friends house where his mom would be smoking reefer in her back yard! And nothing ever happened to us.

Well, there was that one time on the bus going to Granny's when the nasty drunk man kept trying to hand me something. My dumb-ass big brother just laughed at me because I was in the state he most enjoyed experiencing me, scared shitless. I was sitting next to the window in the pair of seats just across from the back door of the bus. I don't know who was sitting next to me in the aisle seat, but the drunk guy was sitting across the aisle from that person. He kept reaching past him/her with something in his balled up fist, motioning for me to take it. He didn't talk, he just grunted. Well, we got to my stop and there was no way in hell I was going to walk past this guy, so I (I was about 11 or 12) politely climbed over the back of my seat, in my skirt into the laps of the people behind me and then down the steps and off the bus. I was rushing like crazy and I missed the last step off the bus, landed on the curb in front of the line of people that extended from the front of the bus where they were waiting to get on. As I hit the ground, I let loose. I screamed, cried and peed all over myself. My brother is standing over me laughing so hard he's crying as he opens his hand to show me the $20 bill the drunk man was trying to give me! WHAT? How was I supposed to know it was money? And why was he giving me money anyway? "Never talk to strangers!" Remember! The only other time in my life a strange man has offered me money was when the men in Argentina mistook me for a Brazilian prostitute, twice a week. Good thing I didn't take the money, in DC or in Argentina!

I've said all this to make the point that times sure have changed for kids. We have to make sure they're enrolled in a structured activity where all the staff has had federal background checks to make sure they aren't sex offenders. Hmm. I started this post thinking I'd be nostalgic about this, but given the work I do, maybe they've changed for the better. I think I've mentioned before that I am a child sexual abuse survivor. Some of my assaults took place during undersupervised summers. We can never do too much to protect our kids. Man, I didn't mean for this to end like this. But there's no turning it around. It is what it is. The truth.

Drawback of being Outted

I really want to vent about annoying people in my office. Those posts are some of my favorites to read. The problem is that I've been outted. My co-workers know I blog. They don't know my site (that I know of), but I'm sure they can find it.

But, DAMN IT.... Stop TALKING to me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ok. That will have to do for now.

Peace. (Ah, I long for peace.)

I Really Should Be Sleeping

It's 1am and I am wide awake! This is happening far too often for the last couple of weeks. It's not insomnia. It's not like I'm trying to sleep and can't. I'm just wide awake. I'm a night-owl by nature, but since I need to get up at 5:15 to get to the gym in time for my power lifting class I need to sleep! Yes, that's right, power lifting at 5:30am. I workout, you know! You didn't know?

I think it's hilarious how fat people turn into workout snobs after their second trip to the gym. Suddenly they're (who am I kidding...WE're) experts in all things weight loss and how dare you mere mortals not take better care of yourselves? It's hilarious to watch when it happens in other people, but I know I get gym-cocky myself, especially when I start to see results. I just need someone to periodically tap me on my shoulder and remind me, "um, excuse me, but....you're still fat!"

Workout snob anecdote: I had dinner with a friend tonight and her hair looked great. I actually thought, "Oh she must not workout!" I could make this judgment because there I sat with my reverting roots. Reverting roots? Oh, I'll happily explain for my non-afro readers... Most black women put a lot of time, effort, heat and chemicals into obtaining straight hair. When we reach desired straightness, we fear all things wet, humid, or sweat producing...like the gym. Why? Well, see, the chemical straightening doesn't affect the "new growth" (like brown roots on bleached blondes). Their temporary straightness is only an illusion that is quickly shattered by...well, water. It's always a consideration for me when I start a workout routine. There is some cost to my hair. I'm either going to wear a ponytail, work too hard to do my hair anew daily, or wear my hair "natural". (Oh man, this is shaping up to be a post I never intended. )

I get mixed reviews when I wear my hair in its natural state...well, as close to natural as I get with my relaxer...I'll call it my wash and wear state. (I don't think I know what my natural state looks like anymore. I've relaxed my hair since I was 7!) Anyway, my girlfriends and non-black co-workers seem to like it. My male friends of color....well, put it like this, one day a guy friend saw my hair and was like, "did you go to WORK like that?" Like what??? I had to remind him that I'm black and that my hair doesn't naturally flow over my shoulders. What's up with that?!?

How did I go from gym-cockiness to natural vs. relaxed hair? Sleep deprivation. That's how.

Let's go back to the gym for a minute. I met with my trainer on Monday. She did my baseline measurements, explained my program to me and then told me that I need to be eating 1300-1500 calories per day. I looked at her, nodded and smiled and said, "oh, ok!" Translation: "Are you out of your mind! I don't balance my checkbook, and you think I'm going to sit here and count the calories in the food I eat! How am I supposed to know how many calories are in food. You have got to be kidding me. I refuse to be one of those freaks eating bird-sized portions of boneless chicken breast, contemplating where they have wiggle room in their "points", or whatever the hell they use to measure calories, for the snickers mini-bite later in the day! Crackhead! I'll tell you what. If we see progress, let's say I'm in the calorie range. If not. We'll make adjustments...kinda like me and my checkbook." Yes, I thought every bit of that statement in that moment and I stand by it now. I refuse to diet. Not going to happen. It takes me back to my eating disorder days. That's bad news for me. Too much control. I'll be conscious not to overdo it on sugar, fatty junk foods and salt. I'll make sure to get in reasonable amounts of fresh fruits and veggies and water. And, I'll try to eat more slowly so that my brain has time to tell my mouth we're full. But that's about it! All other progress has to be made in the gym. Because, I work out, you know.

Seriously though. I feel a lot better since I've started moving. My gym has funky summer hours, so I can't get in there at all the times I'd like to, but anything is better than what I'd been doing. Working out reduces cravings for junk food/sweets for me. And so does Vibe, the multi-nutrient supplement I started taking a couple of months ago. I just bought my refill...need to pick that up from you Tania. Yes, Kwesi and Tania are my Vibe pushers. Kwesi really. Contact him for a really good product (and business opportunity, LMAO). I'm sorry. I hate anything with the word "downline", and rightfully so! But I do swear by the product. There you go Kwes. That's all you get from me! Just keep my supply comin' OK?

So, tonight I'm giving...gym cockiness, natural hair, dieting, multi-level marketing and the dangers of sleep deprived blogging a second thought.

Any thoughts?

Nite. Nite.