Tuesday, September 29, 2009

I Pity The Fool

Ok, so the news of the weekend was Los Angeles Laker Lamar Odom won the Championship this year and then went on to lose his mind, apparently. He went and married Khloe Kardashian (yes, the not-cute one) after dating her for a whopping 30 days. [Insert WTF side eye here]. And word on the street is no prenup was signed. Lawda'mercy! I didn't know they made this level of stupid in 2009.

Not only is it dumb (as hell) to wife up ANY chick after 30 days but Khloe's track record is EXTRA shady. Odom is her THIRD professional athlete this year. She dated the Minnesota Timberwolve's guard, Rashad McCants, and the Tampa Bay Buccaneers' running back, Derrick Ward. [Someone queue up track #4 on Kanye's "Late Registration," please!] Oh, and we can't forget 106 & Park's Terrence J! She locked lips with him recently on her reality show "Kourtney & Khloe Take Miami." Now, somehow Lamar thought homegirl was wifey material.

This clearly goes to show that New Yorkers aren't as street smart as they claim. I wonder what the boys back in Queens are saying about L. Odom these days? I'd assume the term "dumbass" has passed through their lips over the past week.

The last I heard, Odom was with the his long-term girlfriend, Liza Morales. The woman who bore his three children. The woman who suffered with him after the death of their infant son, Jayden, in 2006. So, Lamar, you'd rather marry an attention whoring skeezer than the mother of your children? [sigh] Let me stop judging. I have no clue how long Lamar and Liza have been separated and for what reasons they split. I admit though, I don't understand how people have multiple children by someone and won't commit, then get with the next bird to fly by and suddenly can't wait to walk down the aisle! The logic in this evades me.

I think this is the part that gets me most about this whole Odom-Kardashian thing. I identify with the "hold you down chick" who gets overlooked for the skeezer. These athletes and entertainers talk so much about avoiding golddiggers and then they go and pull this foolishness. They do this willingly and knowingly. I'm at a loss. Someone help me understand what is going on here. Do they even know?

Sucks to be Me

You hate me, don't you? Just admit it. Say it! You won't say it. Well, I know the truth. You hate me.

How do I know you hate me? You tried to stuff me in a box the other day. You know I can't breathe in there! Don't deny it... yes, yes you did try to stuff me in a box! What box? The beauty box. Don't roll your eyes, you know what I'm talking about! Yes you do... Remember when you tried to make me feel like I was unworthy? When you held up her beauty as the standard while mine was sub par? You don't know what I'm talking about, now? Well I remember. I remember when you weren't shit if you weren't "exotic" or "long haired, thick, redbone."

You know how else I know you hate me? You don't love me. You don't want to love me. You shun love like the plague. I'm a bitch or hoe rather than a lady or a woman. To be a "pimp" is to be triumphant in your world. You don't need me and you're not afraid to let me know. You'd rather "fuck every girl in the world" than build a life with me. If that's not hate...

You don't leave what you love... but you always leave me here... to try to raise the future all by my lonesome. What a hateful soul you are! So now, not only do you hate me, but you hate your children and cause them to hate me too. They say they love me but they slaughter each other like hogs... I guess maybe to hate your own is hereditary...

That shit must be contagious cuz guess what? I hate me too...

Monday, September 28, 2009

A Generation is Drowning

The story of the tragic demise of Derrion Albert, the 16 year old honor student killed by a vicious mob while gawking onlookers stood idly by, has my stomach in knots. I didn't watch the video of his death. My heart can't take it. I'm barely able to handle reading about it without spiraling into a state of hopelessness. I don't understand how we can do this to each other. How could you beat someone to death over nothing? How could you videotape a child being killed? I'm fighting tears at the thought. I pray that young Derrion is now without pain and is at peace but my tears are not only for the loss of his life and for the pain his family is being forced to bear. My tears are for these children who have become un-feeling drones. It is not natural to live this way but a disregard for life has become second nature to generations.

Killing each other for the smallest affront to our egos is not new. I remember the 80's when you'd get killed for stepping on someone's Nikes. Gang violence isn't new either and certainly isn't unique to the streets of Chicago where Derrion Albert was murdered. No, this insanity is not new but it's still not ok. This happens everyday but somehow I have not become numb. And for that I'm thankful. I pray I never end up like these kids. I pray my soul is never drowned in a state of hopelessness and anger. These babies are drowning and taking their peers down with them.

Sunday, September 6, 2009

No Tears Today

I'm back in Minneapolis throwing a surprise retirement party for my dad today. For 35 years, he worked for Honeywell, Inc, and last week he worked officially at Honeywell for the last time. He has already received his first retirement check and plans to have a copy of the check framed. Excited isn't a strong enough adjective to describe my dad's mood, lately.

Family and friends have traveled from miles around to come celebrate this next chapter in my dad's life. You can't help but get excited at the possibilities that retirement will bring for him. He plans to build a house near my grandfather's in Arkansas. No, I don't mean have builders come and do it... I mean, he and his band of brothers will build a house with their own hands. They're an unusually handy bunch of men, so I have no doubt the goal will be accomplished and we'll throw another party. This time, a house warming.

The house is full of guests, with more to come, so much so that I haven't slept in my own room. My uncle from Arkansas is sleeping in the bedroom with the 2Pac and Allen Iverson posters everywhere, while I sleep on a cot in the living room. I don't mind at all but it reminds me of this very day five years ago, a day sometimes I wish I could forget.

June 6, 2004 is the day we buried my mother in Glen Alan, MS. We had two funeral services for her. One in Minneapolis and one in Mississippi. Much of our family came to stay with us during the time of the funeral in Minneapolis. I gladly offered up my bedroom to my aunt and uncle. I found some comfort in sleeping on a pallet in the living room with my cousins. I barely wanted to go upstairs and walk past the bedroom where the death angel came to claim my mom.

I couldn't avoid it long as I was given the task of pickng out her undergarments to send to Estes Funeral Home. I tried to make it quick but soon found myself sobbing on the floor in a ball of grief. It seemed like the strangest things set me off.

My cousins went around to newspaper dispensers in the city to collect the day's paper with my mother's obituary in it. I was lying on my little pallet of comfort when I heard someone come in and place the papers on the table. My heart started racing and my breathing got eratic. All I heard in my mind was, "The newspaper don't lie. The newspaper don't lie." I shot up off the floor and ran to the bathroom. I tried to muffle my cries but soon my cousins were at the door, knocking, and begging for me to open it. They were afraid I would faint and hit my head but I was just concerned with my dad not waking up to my tears.

I don't see any irony in celebrating my dad's retirement on the 5-year anniversary of my mother's internment but it has suddenly swept in a wave of emotions that I'd rather suppress. I don't want to feel like this today. I don't want to miss her this much today. Sarah, no tears today.