Posts (page 2)
I'm still not able to write my good news, but soon, I promise.
I'll say this--it ties in with potentially moving back to Los Angeles. Sort of. Maybe. I considered...until I looked at rentals in the City of Angels.
Whatever happened to a cool place with two bedrooms for $1500? Evidently while I slept rentals became unbearably expensive. If it was a normal market you might ponder purchasing.....because when rents are high typically purchase prices are low--not so in LA. It's just purely sky high. You can't buy and you can't rent. I saw ONE place that looked like I could live there and it was $3000 per month.
$3000 is a mortgage to me. To spend $36,000 a year and not have squat to show for it (okay, a little bit of a tax write-off) pains me.
I would rather commute 180 miles each way.
When I looked at the LA multiple listings and saw that Bakersfield (BAKERSFIELD!!!!!!!!) is now considered a "suburb" of LA, I wanted to cry. Bakersfield is a two hour drive from LA....I live another hour north of Bakersfield, so why not commute?
I just wish Arnie (our Governator) would get a TGV rolling here in California. I could then sit on a train going 180 mph and be in LA in an hour. There has been lots of chit chatting about a Calif. TGV but no progress. We need it. Desperately.
I'm feeling back on track.
It feels as if it has been forever and a day (it hasn't but who is going to fight feelings) but I am inspired to write again. And I have been writing up a storm.
I am three chapters into my new book and ready to submit it to Harper Collins and see what they say. I have my fingers crossed because it truly seems as if the characters I have created want to live and have their stories told.
We'll see......
Seems like since we've returned from London we have been on the move. For someone who likes to feel settled, this has been, um, unsettling! For the past six months it seems as if we have unpacked (from our three mos. in the UK), packed (for trips for Thanksgiving, Christmas, skiing, etc.) unpacked from those same trips, packed to move, moved, unpacked and now we are packing again.
I'm sure there's some big lesson in this but swimming through the mire to find it has been a no-go since I'm busy packing again. Now I'm getting ready for Cayman's 12th b.day party and getting ready to hoof it back to LA. With petrol at $3.30 a gallon, I'm not looking forward to the trip. I think everyone I know has cut down on long trips here and yonder for fear of the shock at the gas pump. Maybe this is really the govt's way of curing global warming--make it so bloody expensive to drive, you don't bother. I somehow (with fairy dust in my eyes) remember when gas went up to over a dollar a gallon. I was incensed...ha! And I was convinced that not a soul would put up with it and surely the prices would come down. If only I knew!
Off I go--back to packing, cleaning and getting ready for our party to celebrate Cayman entering his 13th year.
I'm guilty.
I haven't posted a blog in what seems like forever. But that's only because I've been packing my 3 bd/2ba house to do a huge move across town. Then I unpacked. Did at least 150 hours of work fixing the new place up and BOOM! Got a call that I had 45 days to be out of the new place.
I swear it really is too long to go into but I am now repacking my house I just unpacked.
My intuition is working though because somehow I knew my situation was too good to be true. When I met the family of the man who let me move into his house there was a gnawing feeling that someone was up to no good. Of course, true to myself I ignored most of the gut feelings I had but I was put on notice psychically.
I have rec'd other good news that if I didn't trust the source implicitly I also would think it was too good to be true BUT I do trust the source. Still am pinching myself but can't bring myself to mutter the actual news. Maybe once it's printed somewhere legit I'll bring myself to tell everyone. Until them I'm deep breathing and pinching away.
I've received some interesting responses to the article I posted. Here are a couple
now.
"It's ridic. I don't base my vote on how black or how
female or whatever my candidate is. If a white woman wins or a black
man
wins - that's even better and as it is now - my two frontrunners are a
white
woman and a black man. No matter what, a Republican will not get my
vote
regardless of whether they are black, a woman or whatever. We can't
continue
the 8 years of damage already done."
Another.....
"So sad and even pathetic. I've heard it
said
many times that one reason for blacks being held back in this country
is the
way they don't support one another to succeed -- both kids in school
tearing
down those who do well and also adults not supporting black-owned
businesses
the way you see some other communities supporting their own group.
Ethnic communities that have tended to do well socio-economically are
those
that support members of their own group. Such as the Chinese. (For
example
in my business, their tendency to be loyal to their culture mates is so
pervasive that I don't recall seeing a Chinese person who does not work
with
a Chinese Realtor.) I don't mean to imply all Chinese are successful,
any
more than all Jews, but many in those groups have "made it" as
immigrants
due to their in-group support. Others besides blacks are also less
supportive of their own. Such as Mexican Americans in my experience.
Less
likely to encourage successful behavior and patronize each other's
businesses exclusively.
Unfortunately it tends to be a similar phenomena with women. You'll see
women undermining other women's success as much or more than men do.
I'm
sure the roots are in the kind of self-hate that comes from being part
of an
abused underclass for so long. But it also becomes a self-fulfilling
prophecy. A vicious cycle that's hard to break."
And another.......
"It's difficult being a minority in this country. I grew up with it,
being
Jewish, in the south. I remember all the prejudices against Jews and
Blacks.
I grew up during segregation and vividly remember the Klan marching on
Main
Street and hurling cherry bombs onto our porch. I think back to my life
as a
child and teenager in South Carolina. I remember thinking that a Black
couldn't possibly be a doctor or lawyer, and at the same time wondering
why
the little black boy on the corner could play with me, but couldn't go
to my
school. By time I was a teen, I grasped the injustice of segregation.
When the fight for integration was fought the local black teenagers
were
quite militant and were a bit scary. Not because they were black, but
because they were aggressive against any white, regardless of how one
felt.
Perhaps it was justified payback for the separate buses, water
fountains,
schools, etc.
When we went to the movie with our babysitter, Rudell, my mother had to
give
a letter to the theater and the bus driver, so my brother and I could
sit in
the black balcony and ride in the back of the bus with her. Sometimes
she
would take us to the black movie theater near her home and again, a
letter
had to be given to the manager that it was okay. Often we walked, so we
wouldn't have the hassle. I didn't think of MLK as a troublemaker, as
many
others did and I believed, then as a do now, he was a great man. He and
others like him, paved the way for my grandsons. I remember blacks,
passing
as white and afraid to marry and have children, because their children
might
be dark! I look at my grandsons who are multiracial and I don't see any
race, I see just them. I know it had to be hard for you growing up.
It's
interesting, we were talking one day with the girls about multiracial
people. I mentioned that your family was just that, white mom and black
dad.
Bob was surprised, he said Heather's not black, he also didn't see
Cayman as
mixed either. It would be wonderful if the world was like Bob, not
really
seeing race. I see my son-in-law as Alvin, not as a black man. Some may
think that is wrong on my part. I believe that it isn't. My grandsons
see
themselves as black. I remind them that they are also white, Cherokee,
Jewish, Mexican and all the rest and they should be proud of all of
their
heritage, not just one. It hurts to realize that there are so many who
will
not accept my grandsons and your son, because they are not black enough
or
white enough. I have had black friends who complain about other blacks
who
they think are too white in their thinking and speaking. Why does black
have
to be only "ghetto" to some? I try to explain to my grandsons, that
talking
like some rapper is not particularly a good thing."
WHEW!!
Yesterday I received this email and it has bothered me nonstop. I even dreamed about it last night. The topic got under my skin and ate away at me in a way that hasn't happened in years and years.
If you don't read another word of my blog, cool. But read this article written by a Washington journalist who is brave, brave, brave for bringing up a topic too often swept under the rug. The shallow, narrow-minded people mentioned in this article are often our educated blacks. I met more than my fair share at UCLA and it hurts me to this day to think they still hold these ideas close to their hearts and even worse, pass them on to our next generation of kids.
The wounds inflicted by this type of thinking are deeper than one might suspect. I certainly thought my wounds regarding being challenged to see if I were "black enough" were healed. They were simply lying dormant ready to be cut open to bleed once more.
Read on.
"Black like me: We are wasting time debating who is truly black By Marjorie Valbrun -
Published 12:00 am PST Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Story appeared in EDITORIALS section, Page B7
What does it mean to be black, and who is the arbiter of authentic blackness? As Sen. Barack Obama's "blackness" has increasingly been discussed on black-oriented radio shows, at political conferences and on Sunday morning news shows, I've grown more dismayed by the day. The discourse, occurring mostly among black people, has been dominated by questions about Obama's being biracial, his immigrant father and his suitability as a presidential candidate, given that his life story doesn't parallel that of most blacks born in the United States.
Some have implied that only a black candidate whose ancestors were slaves here or who have themselves experienced the trauma of this country's racial history can truly understand what it means to be black in America and represent the political interests of black Americans.
This is a narrow-minded and divisive notion. At a time when blacks living in this country, whether by birth or by choice, should be harnessing their collective political clout to empower all black people, we're wasting time debating which of us are truly black.
As a black immigrant and a Haitian-American who has lived in the country for 37 years, I know how it
feels to have my blackness challenged by native-born blacks. It makes me angry. I'm angry for Obama, too.
People are asking whether he's black enough torepresent them. I ask, black enough by whose standards? Why must Obama's life follow the same track of "authentic" black folk to pass thisl itmus test? Many of my black immigrant friends have also had their blackness questioned by native-born blacks who see us as "not really black."
My ancestors probably weren't enslaved on American soil, but they were enslaved on Haitian soil. So
how am I less black or less worthy of kinship with black Americans? How ridiculous that someone would think me
unable to understand the pain of racism and the long-term costs of white supremacy and slavery.
The other day, Obama's name was raised at the State of the Black Union, a gathering of some 10,000 black people in Hampton, Va., in a forum on the social and economic challenges facing black America. Top black scholars intellectuals, civil rights leaders and opinion makers were present. Princetonprofessor Cornel West took Obama to task for not attending. West also criticized Obama's decision to announce his candidacy that day and to do so in front of the Illinois statehouse where Abraham Lincoln began his political career.
A thread of doubt about Obama's commitment to black America ran through some speakers' comments. Harvard law professor Charles Ogletree, who has known Obama since his time at law school, came to his defense. Ogletree noted Obama's record on civil rights and suggested his scheduling conflict was a transgression worthy of forgiveness.
So this is what things have come to: If you don't walk to the beat of the black establishment, you might get kicked out of the club. What's next? A scarlet insignia for IBMs (Inauthentic Black Men)? We don't all have to like or vote for Obama, but we shouldn't allow this debate to undermine him or discredit his stated commitment to the black community.
When did the social and political cause of American blacks start trumping the larger cause of all blacks living in this country? American blacks don't have a monopoly on blackness or suffering. We black immigrants and children of
immigrants are also often stopped by police for driving while black. Ever heard of Abner Louima or
Amadou Diallo? Many immigrants feel just as powerless and as excluded from the promise of America. Yet the hopes, dreams and successes of immigrant and American blacks are also interconnected. Black immigrants such as myself would probably not be here if not for the sacrifices of those who were on the front lines of the civil rights movement.
And that's why I identify myself as black — not that I have a choice — with pride and without apology. But black Americans can't on the one hand complain about black immigrants consciously separating themselves from black Americans, which many immigrants do, and on the other hand say: "But you aren't really black like us."
Few American blacks can say with certainty that they don't also have white ancestors. Does that make
them less black? Who knows that some distant ancestor of Obama's father was not enslaved here? The more important question is why any of this should matter. When did having slave ancestors become a barometer for political office? Surely those blacks supporting Hillary Clinton aren't holding her to that standard.
I also wonder if Obama's message of racialinclusion worries some blacks. Do they think if he reaches out to "them" (whites), it means he neglects "us" (blacks)? Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr. recognized the universality of the struggle for dignity and self-determination of black people around the world.
What were our protests against South African apartheid about if not this very principle? If American blacks can view black South Africans thousands of miles away as brothers in need of their support, why are they having such a hard time seeing Obama as one of their own? Whether Obama is ready to run, deserves our vote or has enough experience for the job are all legitimate questions. Whether he is black enough is not.
About the writer: Marjorie Valbrun, a journalist in Washington, is writing a book about the Haitian immigrant
experience. This article was originally published in the Washington Post
It's been way to long since I posted a blog. I've been in the throes of packing, cleaning, moving, and unpacking two different households. On top of that, got sick, can't find stuff I packed and the thrill of playing house (finding new homes for my treasures) is wearing thin.
We'll just say I'm frustrated. VERY frustrated.
Yesterday I was on the phone to my mom and sis doing my bitching and emoting so I could feel better when my call waiting clicked in the phone. I put mom and sis on hold and clicked over.
There was a woman on the phone....very nervous, stuttering with anticipation and the conversation went like this.....
"uh.....uh hello, you don't know me but I don't want you to think I'm weird......"
Can't think she's weird if I don't know who she is, but I'm intrigued by her already.
"uh.....(clears throat) well, I should have called a couple days ago but I was too scared...."
Really intrigued now.
"You see, I dreamed your phone number. I woke up with it going through my head over and over. Repeating it."
My dicey mind wondered if she ordered from Chucky Cheese pizza often because I'm always fielding their calls.
"You see, I felt like I should call and tell you not to worry. That everything is going to be okay."
Now it started to feel spooky because I did need to hear that.
"I kept feeling that I needed to pass that message on to you. I hope you don't think I'm weird or anything."
"No," I say, "I don't. I think it took a lot of courage to make this call and thank you. I needed to hear that right now. Are you sure we don't know each other? What's your name?"
Confession: I started to think it was a crank call and someone was going to burst into a tirade of name calling or something.
"My name's Pandora."
"Pandora what?"
"Pandora P_______"
Out of privacy for her, I omitted the last name.
"No, I don't know you."
I don't offer my name convinced this is still a crank call.
"Are you a believer?"
Oh no. I think this is starting to take on hard right leanings.
"Believer in what?"
"Our Lord Jesus Christ?"
"Yes."
"Okay. Thank you for listening to me."
Relieved it didn't go into a lecture and berating myself for thinking it might.
"Thank you for calling me and delivering that message. I needed to hear that right now."
"Okay. You're welcome. And may Christ bless your every day. Goodbye."
"Yours too. Goodbye."
And that was the end of a conversation that I needed to hear.
Oh my, oh my, oh my.
I read an online article that my friend Laura sent me regarding the HUGE upset on Big Brother UK (celeb edition.)
http://www.cnn.com/2007/SHOWBIZ/TV/01/17/uk.bigbrother/index.html
It features Jade Goody along with two other celebs ganging up on an Indian actress and taunting her with racist comments/imitating Indian accents etc.
Okay, I haven't seen the footage and I certainly don't know the other actresses that were with Jade but I can't see Jade doing something like that with cruel intentions.
On the set of Jade's PA, we were constantly speaking to each other in accents. Perhaps the biggest accent freak was me. I gave my attempt at Becky's Liverpool accent. Constantly stabbed at James, the cameraman, with my best Scottish accent. I did Cockney and "uppah" crust imitations. I couldn't even begin to imitate Jade because I couldn't understand half of what she was saying. Sort of weird to think we were separated by the same language but I honestly kept asking others what Jade just said.
Which brings me to her "talent" with accents. She couldn't do accents to save her life. Her attempt at West Indian accents sounded Pakistani. Her attempt at Indian accents sounded exactly the same. Her very bad attempt at an American accent made her sound like George Dubya's younger sister. In fact, I asked all of the cast to give their best attempt at American accents. If we, as Americans, sounded like they think we sound, we'd all be from the state of Alabama.....or we'd be Malibu Barbie's.
For days after hearing what they think we sound like, I really listened to the way my son and I sounded. I'm happy to announce, we don't sound like either of the above stated caricatures. They just weren't good at accents.
But going back to Jade....I know she says things without thinking. She puts her foot in her mouth often. And I know this was all caught on film and the general public is outraged. The media have even got Tony Blair to comment on it. But I just don't see Jade doing this in a vicious or hateful way.
Jade is actually quite lovely. Even though she sucks at doing accents. I start to wonder if folks aren't getting up in arms over play. Or if some are just too sensitive. I didn't run off crying when it seemed that all Americans sound like Southerners. Or worse yet, beach bunnies.
It is January 7th and I'm already struggling with my one measly half-ass New Year's resolution....and my adventure in London is to blame (I love not taking responsibility for it.)
I'm drinking my coffee this morning that is sweetened with stevia rather than sugar to fake sweeteners. Okay, that works well enough. And the coffee is cut with whole milk. This is where I'm struggling. I like half and half. It's a bit more creamy. And it used to be fine for my coffee until I went to London.
I walk into Tesco Express (think glorified mini-mart with ten times better selections) on Queensway and peruse the shelves for half and half. Not seeing anything remotely close I ask a worker where it is.
I'm met with a blank stare and a blink.
"Half what and half what?" was the answer to my "Where's the half and half kept?" question.
"Cream for coffee. You know, half cream, half milk. Half and half."
The worker leads me back to the refrigerated case where I originally looked. "All cream is here."
I looked hard and finally decided that perhaps "single cream" is what I needed for my coffee.
I purchased it, brought it home and opened it the next morning when my cuppa fake joe (Nescafe...God forbid there be a true coffee pot or true coffee available) was steaming hot. Single cream was the coffee industry's version of black gold. Pure crude. The mother lode of all creams. When i saw it I felt as if finally, finally someone figured out how to do a proper cream for coffee. It was PURE unadulterated cream....thick and rich, a true plaque-builder in its most original form. And to think, if this was how thick single cream was, what was double cream like? Ha!
I was satisfied with single cream and never ventured from it for three months even though it did hurt the lining of my stomach in the beginning. But then again, so did English yogurt which I later discovered was made with pure cream...no wonder it was so yummy. And somehow (all the walking, running and up and down stair climbing in the tube) I still managed to come home 10 lbs. lighter.
But when I got home and back into my normal routine, something was wrong. And for three point five seconds I was confused. I went grocery shopping, bought half and half but when I poured it, it came out like water. It looked like an anemic, nonfat version of single cream. I didn't remember half and half being so....so.....thin.
I bought whipping cream. Thin streams of fake cream came out.
I bought heavy cream. Watery and no personality.
I consulted friends who had been to the UK and who had also been ruined by single cream. They suggested I call the local dairies and see if I could purchase direct from them.
I mulled it over as I drank my Peet's. Would I rather have good coffee (Peet's) with stuff labeled as cream (even though it wasn't really) or shit coffee (Nescafe) with single cream????? Since I wasn't going out to any dairy to buy cream, that would be really sinking to new lows for the sake of a good cup, I decided on good coffee with anemic cream.
Then New Year's Eve came and I had to figure out where I was going to cut back. I could have chosen the route that alot of folks are going and decide to buy nothing new for 2007. This was extreme and I would blow it within days. I could exercise more....or how about exercise period..."more" was a lie--I don't do formal exercise at all. Nah. I figured that I could back away from half and half and go whole milk. It tastes horrible and this doesn't bode well for the remaining 359 days of the year.
I may have to, a little late, figure out something else to deny myself for 2007.
