On Book Covers

When I was 12, I wrote this story about a beautiful woman whose special powers were activated when she looked at you. Like Medusa, sort of. Every vampire in the world wanted to enslave her while they figured out how to steal her powers. Her powers caused all sorts of chaos in the vampire world. They fought constantly for ownership, sometimes killing each other's entire clans for the chance to kidnap the woman. They would almost kill her during the throes of their constant fighting, lock her up, hire special doctors to study her.  She hated her existence. Whenever she was close to death, some self-serving vampire would rescue her from it again. She would plead with the vampire to let her die, but the vampire would be so focused on using her powers to become the leader that he didn't notice how flawed and broken she was inside, or how her warped sense of self was turning her powers dark.

Some folks think the highest achievement we can hold is physical beauty. Not our own beauty - which is matchless and perfect - but our own beauty as it compares to the general standard of beauty.  Supermodels are defined by it. People spend their entire relationships performing grave disrespects to their partners because it's all covered under the "but he/she's hot" clause.  Superficially, a compliment about your appearance (for the sake of my rant, let's say the person isn't referring to your sense of style, or your sweet ass shoes.) is fantastic. It's a great resource as a quick attention whore fix.  And because it tends to be the thing by which we're most judged, we proudly take false ownership of it.

But  let's apply a little Spocktitude logic to this.

Our appearance is a genetic mash up of our folks'. That's why we're all beautiful. Our bodies are like giant fingerprints - all uniquely branded and made just for us from them.  Even among twins, our skin and lines and curves, or smile, our "beauty" - and in this way, we are all uniquely beautiful - are all thanks to them. 

When it comes to attraction, how you look shouldn't "make-or-break" matter. What should matter is what you do with your body. How you care for it. How you treat others. How you find ways to improve your life. How you appreciate the ingenuity of Star Trek. And all those things can't possibly be recognized by a stranger who tells you you're beautiful. 

I want...I wish people would dig deeper. I want to be acknowledged as a decent person. I want to own the composition of my parents' hearts: humility, poise, strength, curiosity, independence, integrity. 

 

I'm just realizing (as I type this) that my father may have had this in mind when he use to tell me,

 "If you didn't earn it, it isn't yours."

I always thought he was talking about my grades. He would stop the old Dodge in front of my high school and make me repeat it before getting out to head to class.  Hmm.

Diagram on personal identity measures
from "Promise of Potential"
(Jodi Davis)

 

As usual, I'm distracting myself from my own rant. I had this whole thing about guys and their loins here. But this is way too long already.

 

By the way, not just the girls. Guys, too. Charm and character replaces physical attractiveness any day in my opinion. Note my recent scent-marking on my own TV. I referred to the actor as "Downey Jr. sexy".

 

If Colin Farrell walked up to me, my nether region might light the sparklers and fire up the grill and bake a cake and blow up the balloons and call over the girls and throw confetti around, but I wouldn't introduce myself with, "You're hot." Although I have seen a great deal more of him in...um...other, more documentary-style films. Okay bad example all around.

 

Btw, the character in the story I mentioned earlier isn't a character representation of me. She was yoroppa hita. Blond hair, green eyes, tall. A representation of what I recognized as the western (and now, eastern) standard of beauty.

 

So, you think someone is physically attractive?  That's great. But who are they on the inside? Is he a good person? Is she a bitch?  Does he work hard? Is she nice to people? Do you care?

 

"Promise of Potential" author Jodi Davis defines "identity" as a collection of all things above and below our surface. Social classifications, preferences, gifts, talents. I've been working on a post about surface vs. hidden classifications for a while. But for the sake of this post, the key point is that we are the sum of our experiences and choices. I think that's a quote from somewhere.

 

Sigh. I keep changing my point. I started this post wanting to explain my perspective on the one thing...then it evolved into a whole other thing...now, my point is something completely different. It's really difficult to stay focused for this long because, although I'm typing 100 miles per minute, I'm a visual learner and my thoughts come to me in images which is why its difficult to explain things sometimes...also, the series finale of True Blood is on.  So far, not impressed. Out like a lamb, it seems.

 

My ramblings are getting longer. It's like some kind of senility.  Look. If you're reading this post, chances are you already know I'm a little bit strange.   No point in sugar coating it.  Seriously, could you imagine going anywhere with me? You'd have no idea what I was talking about the entire time.

 

My new point is this: Don't use physical appearance as the reason you decide to get to know someone or not. (That's the grandfather of "yellow fever", btw.) You might be ignoring a whole lot of really good people. And that wouldn't be fair to you or them.

 

Physical characteristics simply aren't the true barometer of a person's worth. In the end, I want to be remembered for beautifully carrying the best features of my parents' hearts.  Not their bodies.

 

 

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Best Saturday nite ever.

Cupcakes, wine and SVU reruns. Yes. 

 

 

Number One.

Look at how far back I had to walk just to use the bathroom! My shoes are not made for this kind of inhuman brutality.

I shoulda just went in the seat.

#tmi

Eminem is Worth the Wait

 

Sooooo excited to be here!! I'm at the Eminem & Rihanna Monster Tour. OMG. Been waiting all week. Traffic was bumper to bumper for miles.  There's this concert at Comerica Park, and also a Lions game at the stadium next door.  It was madness! We all just started talking to people across cars like a Mentos commercial.

 

 

 

 

Long Hair Don't Care

Waiting for a few more inches of length, then gonna donate my hair to Karmanos Cancer Institute via Locks of Love. I can't wait...it's killing me already. It takes so much longer to get ready in the morning. One of the donation stipulations is that I can't highlight or lighten it, so no hair color. I'm stuck with bleh.

Hopefully, only 2 more months before the big chop.

Robot presents a riddle.

News at 11.

Meow

Sooo...who's the new guy? On some new show called "Rush" on USA.

 

Cute, but more "Downey Jr. hot" than "Clooney hot". Lanky, unassuming, super sexy. 

/me stretches awake and sniffs the air in the general direction of the TV.

#stalkingtheTV    #howYOUdoin    #agirlcandream

Death and taxes

Are you willing to die for someone? I'm willing to die for my mother. Right here. Right now. 

On my windshield.

 

 

 

Maybe from an IT guy (or girl). Because they're amazing at coding, but not as amazing at writing stuff.

 

 

 

 

 



Enough with the Heavy

It's "Shark Week" on Discovery. Woot! I cannot believe my mother gave all my shark books away when I was little. I could be a sharkologist by now.

Sharkologist.  It's a word. You're welcome.

Cute little guy. He was obviously not hunting the swimmer.
 He was being curious. I wanna squeeze his cheeks.
The narrator guy was all, "Uh oh. Uh oh. Uh oh." 

And the shark was like, "I know, right?"
(Full story here.)

I've never seen a real one. Or whale shark. Or whale anything. I wonder how massive a whale's tail really is in real life. Whenever I YouTube search "whale tail", I get girls in thongs. Sigh. (Coincidentally, how come when I search for the trailer for "Hunger Games/Mockingjay", I get the "50 Shades of Grey" trailer?)

Is it weird that I want to swim with them? Sharks, not girls in thongs.  Great whites are majestic and beautiful predators. Tiger sharks are powerful and clever. That part at the end of Open Water, when the chick's husband dies from jellyfish stings and the shark bite, and she just kind of gives up and all the sharks are hovering around her? Best scene ever.

Did you know that hammerheads are the only species of shark that are completely unafraid of humans? I didn't either. Also, they can grow up to 20 feet - larger than most great whites. That's crazy. Just learned it.

But the scream.

It is amazing how folks get all huffy from shark attacks after invading the shark's space and destroying their 'hoods. Maybe if we stopped paddling in the middle of nowhere on giant boogie boards and trying to look like cute little excited baby seals, sharks wouldn't think we were the #2 combo meal.



Lesson learned:
If it takes you 37 minutes to find your favorite mascara,
it may be time to toss some stuff.

Also, sharks don't even like the way we taste. We are, apparently, not soft and succulent enough for their tastes. So moisturize all you want, Australians. (Why Australians? Because, if my count is correct, 99.999997% of the people interviewed about their near death shark attacks in the last 5 hours have been Australian. Crazy Aussie folks see sharks and still jump in and start barking like a seal.)

Sharks are what spiders so wished they could be when they grow up.

Speaking of spiders, there's a giant spider on my living room wall. I just sprayed my "spider concoction" (bleach/alcohol/dish soap) on him, and he literally laughed at me and walked away.  Seriously!

That was two hours ago.  If I go back down there and he's still chillin' on the wall, I'm moving out until he leaves.

#spidersarethenationsnumberonekillers

The id, the ego and the "C" word.

 

A friend passed away a few weeks ago. One of those "heavier" things I didn't care to discuss with anyone (no offense...family included). Breast cancer. Again. This makes the third friend in seven months.  My completely narcissist self wonders if I somehow helped bring them (and continue to bring my friends) harm. Maybe I missed a cosmic cue somewhere along the line. Maybe there was a moment that a little encouragement or a special code word would've prompted a different, positive chain of events. 

 

I ask myself the same question about my grandmother's death every day.  "If I had just stayed home from work that day..." "If I had just fed her something different that morning..."

 

More logically, am I doing everything in my power to help keep the people I love their healthiest?

 

I've been aware of very few people's cancer concerns until now. Since the stroke, my personal health concern has been for my blood and heart health. I certainly never heard about it back in Miami. Suddenly, the C word is a giant dark cloud hovering above. Its prompted me to be healthier. I work out. I do my checks in the shower. I even tried the new non-invasive (and non-embarrassing) breast check thing during my exam. There's no history of cancer in my family on either side. But it still feels like I'm supposed to do something with this. I'm being prompted to act. But I don't believe in fate. I believe "there's no fate but what we make (dap me, Sarah Connor)".

 

I've been nosing around online for peeks at what other folks are doing to promote cancer awareness. Surprisingly, there is a wealth of info in Second Life.  

 

Well, I somehow made a post about a friend's death all about me. I don't know why. I meant it to express in words what I've been feeling about knowing her, laughing with her, and holding her hand for the last year. I suppose I've been thinking about those things for weeks now.  And now that I have the opportunity to talk about her, my id gets in the way. I'm expressing myself in my famous detached manner. 

 

We submitted a video for a national cancer campaign contest a few months ago.  Here's a shortened version. Just to give you an idea of how brave and funny my Desi was. We met in a ladies room, wearing the exact same dress. Years ago. People constantly assumed we were sisters, although she was "100% chica caliente". She would arrange her treatment appointments so that I could harass her the whole way there. If you and I talked or texted or skyped after work, chances are high that I was at the hospital at that time. I just didn't tell you. Or anyone.

Edit 08.15.14:  I screen captured this video to chop it down from its original (10 min) length. I'll try again. I really want to show Desi's character and wit here. Currently finishing an essay for a class...will hopefully have it up later.

Mother-f...

sigh...really?

Too much, Too fast for Too long

Lower Michigan is under water, basically. It's total mayhem. The lucky few of us who didn't get stuck on the way home from work are probably all shaking like a leaf.

Personally, with the exception of the Japanese quake, I've never experienced anything like this.  Even then, I was only present for the aftermath.

It's hard to explain why this wasn't just driving in heavy rain.  Okay, imagine you can't see the road ahead of you, even with your wipers on "high".  It's 5pm, but super dark. You only know that you're about to run through yet another flood because the cars in front of you start floating around.   If you have a low undercarriage (I do), engine stalling is of particular concern. Every expressway - 5 or 6? - is closed due to flooding (I've never witnessed more than one expressway closed, temporarily, because of an accident). You live 2 blocks from a rising lake, so you have to follow the trail of cars driving over neighbors' lawns to avoid floating away. I got stuck twice. My brakes kept failing because they're wet. Crazy!

 

Thousands of basements flooded.  Medical centers are closed.  The national guard is being requested. The forecast calls more heavy rain for the rest of the week.

This post reads like the trailer for "Day After Tomorrow". lol

 

  

 

 

 

 

 



Worst I've ever had

The neighbors were crack dealers. I could hear them talking about kidnapping someone for ransom. My brother lived with me. I told him I thought they'd kidnapped our grandmother. He didn't believe me, but I was suspicious. And he would only speak in Japanese. I would only speak in English. We considered calling the police, but my brother was very dismissive about it, and said not to. Finally, I didn't care what he wanted and I kicked in their side door. There was my grandmother, very still, lying in someone's bed. I pulled back the covers and smoothed her hair. She opened her eyes and looked partly in shock, and partly sad. She finally focused and smiled at me, the way she use to when she would come out of a fog and had something funny to say. I was so angry and my tears were hot on my cheeks as I wrapped her in a sheet and carried her back to our house. As I walked away with my grandmother, I imagined doing horrible, gruesome things to the neighbors. And their children. Even worse things to their children. I was livid.

 

While I carried her into our house, I woke up from my dream. I'm curled up and shaking and sobbing and seething and I can't see and my heart is jumping out of my chest.  I thought maybe typing this would be calming, but it's not working. The sadness on her face in my dream brought me back to when she was here. I've seen that look before. When she was lost in her fog and thought she was alone. Dammit with the crying. I want to hurt those neighbors...but they don't even exist. They're not real.

 

We use to live next to a crack house. That same house that was in my dream. I remember because I could look down from my bedroom into their side door. They put my parents through all sorts of stuff.  Once, my sister and I jumped from our 2nd story bedroom window and into the snow in our nightgowns to bang on neighbors' doors while my parents were being robbed at gunpoint. One day, a guy chased another guy into our backyard and pistol-whipped him to death while my mother was hanging our clothes out to dry. Not to mention the myriad of bullets embedded in the bathroom walls from shootouts.   

 

Well, that was a lot of squinty typing.  I'm sort of falling back to sleep. I probably won't remember why I'm so angry when I wake up. Plus, I have 3 back-to-back meetings and 100 deadlines. Which is good. Busy is good. It's distracting. Oh, crap. And the house tax payment. And the security alarm installment. I had a wireless alarm system installed on the house. I've been wanting to anyway, but last week, the neighbor across the street was robbed. I hear nothing's left but hangers. So I have security doors, a pulse and sensor alarm and, soon, a gun.  The home insurance premium should drop like a...um...I can't think...drop like....okay, what drops?

Clarifications

1.  No, I didn't have a baby. That is my late friend's baby, taken just after birth last December. The photo was posted for the baby's grandmother. The "don't, just don't" caption was added for Kristyl, who, I knew, would start up again with the "you should have a baby" thing.

 

2. The "wars & women" was tongue-in-cheek. I thought that was obvious, but I suppose it could also read as a serious rant. I do believe that men aren't always the best leaders. I believe that, in many ways, a man is weaker than a woman. Particularly with regards to physical burden (ever watch a man get a paper cut?), faithfulness and perception. I do think it's unfair that we have to carry the weight of everything "organic".

 

As I typed that last sentence, I paused to chug down two more Midol tablets...in honor of this fine day...a holy day...my favorite time of the month.  Cramps Day.

 

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to my bed to lay in the fetal position and cradle my stomach for the rest of the night.

 

That is all.

Once again, the girl gets it.

So, scientists plan to eliminate (the ancillary health risks from) mosquito bites by genetically removing the female mosquito from the whole damn process.

Robot gets a girlfriend.

Really?  That's where we are. Mosquitos are causing fiascos...hey, let's just get rid of the girl chromosome.   

I call "BS".  This is "Biblical Principles 101" all over again. How come we always get the blame?

God tells the woman, "Don't touch the damn fruit on the tree." Freaky (but empathetic) talking snake says, "God's just having a bad day. He's just playin'. Take all the damn fruit you want." 

 

So, God says, "Didn't I tell you to back up off my fruit?". God gets mad at the woman.

 

...who, let's just assume, didn't have a ton of experience dealing with shady snakes....

God doesn't get angry with the snake...well, not really...I mean...he got Hell and all, but...

God doesn't get angry with the man, who...actually, wait...where was Adam when all this went down, anyway?... Seriously... its not like he had an appointment for a job interview or anything. 

So typical.  Men cause the drama...but they're somehow magically "away" when you need back up...



Money?

 And God's logical solution...the logical solution...is to punish every woman ever to eternal pain and suffering and faux inferiority?

That doesn't make sense.

And so now, we're stuck with the competitive salary inequality and the sore boobs and the bleeding and the cramping and the chocolate and the random cry fests and the pushing of mutant vampiric creatures out of our bodies after they've sucked the life out of us leaving us with 18-year headaches and depression and stretch marks and husbands who are "busy job interviewing"...

And we have to like pink.  Regardless of our skin tone.

It's ridiculous.

Thanks a lot, Christians.  Nothing like insurmountable lifelong guilt.



Don't. Just...don't.

And then, wars.  Don't even get me started on wars.  Wars are escalated chest-thumping contests. "Mine is bigger than yours."  The world is overrun with leaders of the male persuasion.



If our nations were run by dames, there would be no war. Contrary to what you see on Love & Hip Hop Atlanta (interestingly, those fights are always over a man...and don't pretend you don't watch it), we ain't got time for that. We would be too busy fixing our predecessors' messes. Mending relationships with other nations. Being social. Hoping the other leaders will like us. Even if it's fake and we hate the other leaders' shoes... But never war. 

There would be no reason for social conflict. We wouldn't throw people into exile or persecute sects or proclaim genetic superiority. Well, not aloud, anyway. 

And if a leader accidentally pressed the red button,  the "offended" nation would benefit from an international trade surplus thanks to all the shiploads of flowers and cupcakes and Louboutins in apology.

About the 2k swim in Mass., I haven't quite made it beyond that 1k swim stretch. My body just doesn't seem to embrace that level of endurance. I klonk out 1 mile. By "klonk out", I mean that my arms and legs get too heavy to lift.
 

My late friend's mother knows someone who will race in my place. A guy, of course. He'll probably blast right through the finish line.  No transfers needed - I registered in her name.

I'm disappointed that I can't conquer all, but I'm excited that someone will still race in her name. And for a cure for cancer. I'm working on other ways to honor my promise.

Some friends and I acted as servers for an event where a four diamond restaurant provided two families in need with a fancy five-course dining experience.  I wanted to list the menu items here, but honestly, there was so much food, I can't remember everything...or which course they went with.  It was family style, so we brought giant plates of each item out, and helped the families sample each item.  Plus a birthday cake to celebrate one of the little girls' birthday. I saw the kids from both families talking to each other. I wonder if they'll connect again.

There were two banquet captains there to coach us and make sure we didn't break anything (me mostly). Left me pooped.