“Love At First Bark” Review
13 years ago
How it began.
A long time ago when I was about 5, my family’s house caught on fire and we lost everything. Being 5, I didn’t realize what all of that meant. I only knew that my fave orange teddy bear and plastic Snoopy doll were gone. I missed them at night especially. About 7 years later we lost the house again (my dad rebuilt it after the fire, yes I helped too), when my parents could no longer afford it. We had to go from a 2 story house to a 2 bedroom apartment. Did I mention my mom is a pack rat? Well anyway. After that traumatic event I started to hoard boxes. I was always anxious that where we lived was only temporary and that we would have to leave soon.
I realized one day that I was a box hoarder when I looked under my bed and saw all of the boxes I’d kept from the things I’d bought over the years. Small boxes, just small enough to be hidden, but still useful, just in case I had to leave in a hurry. Because when your house burns down or you get foreclosed on, you have to leave in a hurry.
Later on in life, I’m still doing the same thing. Now I’ve gotten a bit more crafty in hiding this reality from myself. My trick is out of sight out of mind. Since I can break down bigger boxes, I just flatten them and stick them in places where I can’t see them(behind headboards, bookshelves, in between a wall and an appliance), but feel secure in that they are there. I keep the boxes from all of my electronics, and we know a cell phone shelf life is about 6 months to a year, at least for me. I have a box full of smaller boxes. I keep this box full of boxes usually hidden under a sheet and use it as a prop for my paintings.
Some people collect knickknacks and cds. I collect boxes. Does anyone have a couch and 4, 60 minute sessions for me?
I saw something happen that was kinda funny in an absurd way and took a picture and now have decided to share.
So me and a passenger were at the local steak and shake drive through hoping to order some milkshakes. While in the drive through line, I observed this:
So me and a passenger were at the local steak and shake drive through hoping to order some milkshakes. While in the drive through line, I observed this:
Let me call your attention to a few things. First, this car is a Jaguar, a $70k car. Second the window doesn’t work, which is why she got out of the car at the drive through. Ok I don’t have more than that. Let me tell you something, if I’m going to fork over that much money for that stupid car, the dang window better work. I better be able to afford to fix a stupid window and lastly, I would not be getting out of my $70k car at a drive through to let folks know that my car is janky and I can’t afford to fix it.
Finally let me call your attention to that line going across the picture. That is the crack in my windshield. My car is janky too and I haven’t gotten it fixed yet and yes sometimes it obstructs my view. See I’m able to cast judgment upon myself as well as others.
Dear Art,
once again I’ve made you an option instead of my priority. I keep pushing you away and begging you to come back. And you take me back every time, but I know I can’t keep treating you like this. You don’t deserve my occasional consideration. I vow to make a space in my heart, house, and life for you, forever more. Just say you’ll stay…
My dr. asked me the other day how I was handling my diabetes diagnosis. I told her that I’ve been diagnosed for a while now, so why was she asking. She said that many folks get diagnosed, flip out and keep flipping. I told her that I just deal with it and move on. I flipped, got over it and have been dealing ever since. I rationalized that I could have worse things, and indeed I could. And that taking care of myself and this disease is something that will benefit me all around, so I don’t see the problem, as problems go.
Let me break this down for you.
I once was a skinny little twig who could eat anything she wanted. I was encouraged to eat, even engorge myself because I was a skinny little twig. No one taught the skinny little twig about nutrition and exercise. They just told her to keep eating. One day, in her late 20s, the twig was diagnosed with diabetes. Say what?! Yes, the twig didn’t see the connection of both her father and grandfather having the dreaded disease. Even though all three of them were rather slim. Genetics is a b*tch. Anyway, the twig had to learn good nutrition and exercise, even as her metabolism slowed and she was no longer a twig.
So now I try to eat right and exercise regularly. Do I always do this? Heck no. I’ve fallen off of the wagon more times than I can count. I go up and down in weight and go up and down with nutrition, especially when stressed, which is often because complete world domination is stressful business.
So why am I not terribly upset about my diagnosis? Because like I said above, there are a whole lot of other worse thing in the world I could have. Treating my disease makes me have to do right by me, mind body and spirit. I have to be aware of my stressors, and how to counteract them. Which means some serious stress reduction, I’ve cut out lots of people, places and things that cause me stress. I try not to major in the minor, because it will kill me. So basically, if I seem like I don’t care, it’s probably because I don’t. I can’t afford to. I do things that make me happy first. I have to, I cannot worry about what makes others happy, and if they really love me, like they say they do, they will enjoy it as well. It’s almost that simple. I am that chi finder, the chakra aligning, and meditating tree hugger, minus the trees. It’s all Zen for me baby. And when I can’t find the Zen, I put the world on pause until I do. Yes it’s just that important. I try to exercise on the regular, even if it’s just a 10 minute walk around my building, gotta keep it moving, physical stillness is the enemy. And being aware of what I eat, we all know how that goes so I don’t need to elaborate.
Recap, mental stillness good, physical stillness bad. I refuse to let what could kill me, actually kill me.
So how do you deal?
Let me break this down for you.
I once was a skinny little twig who could eat anything she wanted. I was encouraged to eat, even engorge myself because I was a skinny little twig. No one taught the skinny little twig about nutrition and exercise. They just told her to keep eating. One day, in her late 20s, the twig was diagnosed with diabetes. Say what?! Yes, the twig didn’t see the connection of both her father and grandfather having the dreaded disease. Even though all three of them were rather slim. Genetics is a b*tch. Anyway, the twig had to learn good nutrition and exercise, even as her metabolism slowed and she was no longer a twig.
So now I try to eat right and exercise regularly. Do I always do this? Heck no. I’ve fallen off of the wagon more times than I can count. I go up and down in weight and go up and down with nutrition, especially when stressed, which is often because complete world domination is stressful business.
So why am I not terribly upset about my diagnosis? Because like I said above, there are a whole lot of other worse thing in the world I could have. Treating my disease makes me have to do right by me, mind body and spirit. I have to be aware of my stressors, and how to counteract them. Which means some serious stress reduction, I’ve cut out lots of people, places and things that cause me stress. I try not to major in the minor, because it will kill me. So basically, if I seem like I don’t care, it’s probably because I don’t. I can’t afford to. I do things that make me happy first. I have to, I cannot worry about what makes others happy, and if they really love me, like they say they do, they will enjoy it as well. It’s almost that simple. I am that chi finder, the chakra aligning, and meditating tree hugger, minus the trees. It’s all Zen for me baby. And when I can’t find the Zen, I put the world on pause until I do. Yes it’s just that important. I try to exercise on the regular, even if it’s just a 10 minute walk around my building, gotta keep it moving, physical stillness is the enemy. And being aware of what I eat, we all know how that goes so I don’t need to elaborate.
Recap, mental stillness good, physical stillness bad. I refuse to let what could kill me, actually kill me.
So how do you deal?
Have you ever felt like you were standing in a room, or field, or street corner, and everyone around you is running around like their hair is on fire, and yet you can’t see the flames? You wonder to yourself, “where is the fire?” then you look at your reflection and see that everything is in order, leaving you miffed at the chaos around you. Leaving you wondering how you can extricate yourself from the mess around you. Constantly looking for that trap door in the floor that will take you away, far far away…
On the flip side
Have you ever felt like you were the only one who heard the alarm, and everyone else is still sleeping? You wonder why you are the only one who can see the facade for what it really is, and it doesn’t sit too well with you?
Stuck between a world of superficial chaos and deadly slumber…welcome to Monday….
On the flip side
Have you ever felt like you were the only one who heard the alarm, and everyone else is still sleeping? You wonder why you are the only one who can see the facade for what it really is, and it doesn’t sit too well with you?
Stuck between a world of superficial chaos and deadly slumber…welcome to Monday….
I have a retraction and confession to make. In a previous blog, I commented about The 48 Laws of Power. 
I said they sucked because I didn’t agree with their interpretation of old works. Well, the book is on my desk as you are reading this blog. Don’t know why its here, but I flipped it open and started reading it again. As I read I started to feel that ball of anger swell up again. I think I’ve discovered why this book totally rubs me the wrong way. I’m pissed because I use these laws and now this snitch is telling everyone about them. I believe he has broken the 1st and only rule of fight club. I think snitches get stitches.
I said they sucked because I didn’t agree with their interpretation of old works. Well, the book is on my desk as you are reading this blog. Don’t know why its here, but I flipped it open and started reading it again. As I read I started to feel that ball of anger swell up again. I think I’ve discovered why this book totally rubs me the wrong way. I’m pissed because I use these laws and now this snitch is telling everyone about them. I believe he has broken the 1st and only rule of fight club. I think snitches get stitches.
In the game of life, we all play a part, some of us better than others. Some of us move throughout life below the radar, our true motives never really clear. I am one of those people (my pops was in Intelligence, what choice did I have?) I can make a Dunkin Donuts run seem like a covert ops mission to smuggle cocoa plants to Friedrich Ferdinand Runge so that I may enjoy my morning stimulant. Paranoia aside, I do not appreciate the secrets of my success published and sold to millions.
And anyone who busts up the sanctity of secrecy and the code of the streets needs to be dealt with.
Thank you.
I’m talking about tooth fillings.
My dentist decided that my old faithful trusty 1980s filling wasn’t good enough for my molar anymore. She said both in the back needed to go. Since they weren’t hurting me, I told her to go fly a kite. Well, upon my next cleaning, I apparently signed up for the stupid fillings to be replaced (still sketchy about the details, must’ve been euphoric over not having any cavities or having to get any teeth pulled). So when I went in, they asked which one first, I asked which one was the worst. It took her a minute to decide (I should’ve known then). She pointed to one and said half the filling was gone so she recommended starting with that one. I would like to reiterate that there was nothing wrong with my mouth before going in. Thank you. So I let the mad dentist have at it. She drilled out my loyal silver filling, and replaced it with some pasty white one, so now I can’t tell that I’ve had any dental work done. Visually I can’t tell, but physically, my mouth has been going through it. I haven’t felt pain like this since my braces (which I got off in 2006). I haven’t felt pain like this since those teeth got filled waaaayyyy back in the 80s. and you know what? I’m pissed. “If it aint broken…” is what I muttered that morning before I left for the dentist. I should’ve listened to myself. Now I’m in pain. This is great for my diet, since I truly do not feel like eating, but it’s horrible for my attitude, everyone has caught a swear word from me over the past 2 weeks.
When I was a kid, I kinda liked my fillings, it was like a badge of honor, I’d survived community center dentists. I was living proof that free dental care was a good idea. I didn’t even cry. I kinda liked the whole process, the Novocain, the drilling, the inability to talk without biting my tongue. It was like a little adventure. I might have some s&m issues. And you know, I kinda was a little excited this time when she whipped out that big ole needle. I thought about all the things I could do to my lip on the way to work, and how I’d have a reason not to speak to anyone for awhile. Well the white filling killed that dream. The Novocain didn’t work, the numb lip just pissed me off when I tried to drink something, and like I said before I’ve been in pain ever since. Some things don’t need an upgrade.
When they say “your job destiny is in your hands” I say “explicative explicative you!”. Then I calm down, find my words, and expound. That statement, your job destiny is in your hands, is such a polyanna whimsical one that only someone who has had the world handed to them on a gilded platter would think of it and actually say it out loud. Only someone who is part of the majority would think that way. I mean what have you got to lose right? When you fail, fall on your face, what would happen to you? Someone take pity because you’re just a young buck who made some bad decisions, you deserve a second chance? Or would they look at you like some kind of statistic, oh there goes another one of them, unemployed, always looking for that quick money.
I kinda do have a personal beef with Seth Godin. It’s a love hate thing with this little old dude. Maybe because he represents the majority. Maybe because he’s used his talent at first for money for food, then for good, and now for supreme corruption of all things intellectual. Maybe I can just turn this back on capitalism and the media. Maybe I’m just a jealous hater who wished she’d thought of it first. Of course, while he was building his empire I was only in high school crafting my master plan on how to get out. Whatever dude, the hate is there regardless.
So why I can’t stand this old dude? Because yes he’s conceptualized great ideas and dumbed them down to the point of Dr. Suess so the average Joe Slow can catch on and hopefully use. Maybe I’m just an elitist snob who prefers her knowledge wrapped in intellectual integrity. I took a gander at a book a friend was reading a while ago called The 48 Laws of Power (not by Seth, but I’m still blaming him). It was about how to get what you want from people yada yada yada. I can say I was not impressed and hated it. Why? Because it took excerpts from great books, interpreted them in support of their main point, and wrote it on a couple 100 pages and called it useful (sounds familiar…). I am a snob because I’ve already read Art of War and Machiavelli and can pull from them what I need to for total world domination. Didn’t need Robert Greene’s interpretation of Sun Tzu’s process for enemy crushing. And I promise anyone who can manage to do all of what the book told you to do would end up alone and rich or alone and broke and an S ne their forehead for stuuuuupppiiiddd.
My other beef is that yes Seth had to dumb down his ideas for corporate (that’s another blog I can whip up for ya) because those people are slow. But come on, really? His books are at a 5th grade reading level? Seth is the Tyler Perry of how to books. The only difference is that TP is for escapism, SG is supposed to help for real right?
I really don’t hate Seth, I mean I think he’s brilliant and has a lot to share with the world. If he invited me over to his house to have green tea, would I go? Hellz yeah! But I’d request that he’d talk to me like someone with ¾ of a brain. And this concludes my hate session. Yes I do feel better now.
During my adventures in(f)unemployment I have had to become very humble. I have been eating pride like I used to eat sushi pre-broke days. Mmmm sushi, miss that. Now, I never was making 6 figures living like Jorge y Louisa on the Eastside, but life was fairly comfortable. One thing I used to have that I valued was health insurance. Yup, good ol' coverage. Now, I must now go to the community health clinic. Yes, "da clinic". Good times. I even wrote a poem about an extremely frustrating clinic day (patient...) I hate the waiting and sometimes disorganization but there are actually are some great things about "da clinic" I go to.
- It is free for me. I have no money, so free is a wonderful thing. Free makes me happy. Free is my friend. Me and free go waaaaaaay back.
- The doctors really care. I actually have gotten better care for a chronic illness that I have than I did going to regular doctors. My current doctor finds creative ways for me to get free or reduced priced medications, hooked me up with specialists that do pro-bono work, and actually calls me periodically to check up on me. Maybe I lucked up on this doctor, but after seeing scores of doctors in the private sector I have never had anything remotely as wonderful.
- Even for people that have to pay they still will see you whether you have a dime or not, or how much you owe. The same applies to the pharmacy.
I resemble a Gremlin, I know this, anyone who has seen me knows this. I have big eyes, keen hearing and have the ability to scamper about unnoticed. With these huge eyes I see EVERYTHING, especially the mess folks try to disguise. I hear everything too, especially the things people don’t say. And I’m quiet, so I guess people think I’m less likely to repeat the drivel they inundate me with everyday.
Anywho, while I’m at work, I notice how people react to situations, and I’m here today to talk about the “Always an Emergency/Crisis” coworker. For awhile I had a coworker and cube neighbor who would go on and on about how late they stayed up trying to finish this task or that. And how they never seem to get their head above water. Now I’ve been slammed with tons of projects, asap deadlines, and no time to complete. So I understood for while. As things in corporate are cyclical, my hectic times past just as my slow times. I’ve managed (with superb project management skills, process improvements, and good ole fashion time management) to maintain and get up out the water and onto the shore. My coworker still hasn’t made it out. She either has gills, uses her fat as a flotation device, or has a wicked backstroke with one short arm (swimming in circles, get it?) either way 6 months later she’s still drowning. Over the past week or so I’ve had the pleasure of working with her on a project. This has confirmed some things that I had been suspecting but had no confirmation. Its not the organization, its not her subordinates, its just her that is keeping her perpetually sinking in the corporate cesspool (which is 4 ½ feet deep by the way, I suppose you can figure out how I get out).
She has the innate ability to make everything 20x harder than it actually is. She then makes things harder for her subordinates who are there to help her. Which in turn ends up being back on her plate because they cannot compete the task that she made impossible to ever get right. She does this so much that she even admitted it to a group of people one day as they were showing her how to complete a (small) task.
My light bulb went on, then burst. I no longer listen, believe, or participate in the fires she sets all around her. I also never want to work with her again. I understand that that wont happen, but I can still put it out there. BUT outside of the fire setting, she’s mad cool :)
FYI, I don’t help people to the shore. I cannot swim, but if I can manage to continuously make my way to the shore after being dragged out onto the boat and dumped into the water, repeatedly, I think anyone who tries can make it as well (I get out by staying grounded amidst the chaos, I just stand up, I mean the water is only 4 ½ feet deep). Besides, everyone knows what happens when an untrained person tries to save someone panicking and drowning…yeah nuff said. See ya on the shore!
I know of a place, where things get done, with no interruptions, it’s called my home office. My job is project based, it also requires design and programming. This requires some major skills, project management (organization, timeliness, detail orientation, etc), creativity (a flippn imagination), and tech savvy (going beyond surfing and doing the social media 2 step). How many people do you know are good at all three of those things? Think about it, I’ll wait…Well I’m one of those people. And as a goober, I need a lot of concentration in order to get my job done. No one understands this. People think that their “oh I just need one second of your time” will not throw me off course. Sorry bozo, engaging all parts of my brain to produce a masterpiece requires more attention than it takes to tie a shoe. Which is why I’m a commodity and you only have your inflamed sense of self importance. I need to be separated from lower functioning, annoying, disorganized, always looking for me to solve their problems and complete their tasks, people. I need to be home.
Why is that so hard for organizations to understand? Why is management intent on creating as many obstacles as possible to prevent me from completing their tasks by their dead line of ASAP? Why do they think that I love this so much that I will keep putting up with it? Granted, I’m still here. But I’ve been sharpening my head enough to resemble a thorn point. I’m not jumping ship at the first sign of rough seas. I have an ulterior mission that requires me to stay here. For now. But while I’m here, I’m determined to get what I want. Like a son or daughter who presents a straight A report card, you gotta give them what they want, within reason.
It’s been awhile. I’ve been waging a secret war, me against the world, while I’ve been away. I had to make a decision that set me back in one way, but hopes to bring me forward when it’s all said and done. I’m a corporate creep now. I’ve been one since I stopped writing this blog, because as some of you may know, once you go corporate, you die. Going corporate, it’s like selling your soul, and every day that you clock over 8 hrs to finish a project, everyday that you get up early to get a head start on a new project, everyday that you leave a bit of your old, non corporate, carefree creative self behind, you die a little. Your cute lil bunny soft soul gets sucked out of your body, leaving dark circles around the peepholes to your soul. The dark circles are the skid marks your soul leaves behind as it exits, just to confirm with you that this just ain’t right. BUT all is not lost. I made this decision in order to finance my academic chess move. You see, I wish to take over the world help people through mental health counseling. I also wish not to be broke as I do this, or to have to take out more student loans. I followed the money and am using it for the greater good. This is what I tell myself every day. Please let me believe it.
So what have I learned since becoming a corporate creep?
Corporate is for the young woman. I am not young. I do not have the stamina, energy, or the desire to be a corporate rock star. Irony alert: of all the sectors of work I’ve clocked into, this is the only one I’ve progressed within the most, without really trying. I became a corporate rock star. Don’t want the fame though, definitely didn’t want the blackberry, and most certainly don’t want to be the go to girl with all the answers. But I am. And I’m crying.
Corporate has its own sense of what constitutes an “emergency”. To me, as a normal girl from Saturn, and a future mental health professional, I think of an emergency as life and death, severed limbs, pints of blood, homicidal inclinations and suicide attempts. This may be a bit extreme, but if you work in social services or hospitals, or schools, this is status quo. Corporate believes reports, PowerPoint presentations and memos are emergencies. All antiquated forms of communication if you ask me. If you can’t say it in 5 sentences, or better yet 5 minutes, then it doesn’t need to be said. This also means you have to have competent professionals working for you. This is why I’m a rock star at work. This is why I don’t quite fit at work as well. I do not believe in their emergencies. I just look at them like they are crazy when they come at me wrapped up in chaos. Like pigpen, they come around me tracking their dust, muss and fuss. Like pigpen I show them the door and whip out my Oreck. Then I come up with a solution 5 minutes later. Send them an email. Problem solved. This is why they keep me around. This is why I want to run away.
I’d rather solve the problem of a suicidal homosexual teenager. I’d rather assist an abused wife gain some self esteem so she can do better for her children. I’d rather help a Vet work through his or her PTSD so that they can regain some semblance of a quality of life. I’d rather heal the world, than burn the last of my brain cells helping pinheads compound numbers for a data analysis that I was never supposed to be a part of that they are just going to manipulate the numbers for anyway.
My secret war is to keep convincing myself that this is for the best until I can do better. My secret war is to keep my soul from leaking out of my tear ducts every time I shed a tear over the idiot circus that surrounds me. I mustn’t cry.
Hi! It's AmyMay... remember me, "Theory Woman?" No? Okay... forget you, then. Well, Alise and I have been having mutual blog block, so we thought that doing a post swap might kick start our collective writing muses. (I stay tellin' Alise them heffas took off to the Bahamas and just didn't tell us they were goin', but I can't prove it.) We aren't entirely sure it will work, but, hey... it's worth a shot.
This time, I have archetypes and opinions on said archetypes. Kinda like theories only not quite. Theory Lite, if you will!!
Now, like the last time I wrote something that I contributed to this blog, I'm gonna take a moment to give a disclaimer: My brain is a busy and dangerous place. There will be trains of thought which take perilous turns, dives and twists. There might be derailments. Keep your hands and feet inside the ride until the post comes to a full and complete stop. Management is not responsible for any loss of life, limb or good sense. Thank you! Enjoy the ride!
So, normally when I blog, I steer clear of the workjob. I work in a profession where privacy and confidentiality are legal mandates, not just suggestions. But this really doesn't have anything to do with my specific job. It's more of a general workplace kinda situation... I'm thinkin' this one time, I can make an exception.
I love my job. I love the place I work. I genuinely like many of the people at my job. That said, one of my greatest pet peeves is something that I encounter almost exclusively at the workjob. A little something I like to call Reindeer Games. Reindeer Games are that boolshiggity that most of us outgrew when we received our high school diplomas and moved on with life. Yet there are those allegedly grown adults who revel in them. And I just can't abide them!
Reindeer Game: We're IN, You're OUT. This is self explanatory. Call it what you will... cliques, the in-crowd, the cool kids. Whatever. All I have to say about this is, if you have to work at convincing me you're cool.... well, you're not. Sorry to break it to you, Sparky.
Reindeer Game: I know important people around here! Ummmm... so? If you suck at your job, but you know someone in an office, well.... hun, you still suck at your job, and I still don't respect you. Now what?
Reindeer Game: If I look busy, people will think I actually do stuff around here! Yeah. Go saddown. You ain't foolin' NO.BODY!! But if it helps you sleep at night, knock yourself out!
Reindeer Game: I work hard at getting out of work! This one is closely related to the last one. But I genuinely don't understand the point. If you play this Reindeer Game, I'm thinkin' you need more people.
Reindeer Game: I take credit for stuff I didn't do. Nothing funny. You suck. That is all.
Reindeer Game: I live to stir the pot. If your life is so empty and boring that you must instigate drama in the lives of those around you... *smh* All I can say to that is Karma is a bitch, and Hell is hot!
I'm sure I haven't but scratched the surface. What are some of your favorite Reindeer Games? What kind of workplace shenanigans get your blood pressure up? Share with the class!
P.S. I hope you will join me in encouraging Naturally Alise and Eyesqueen to come out of hibernation!! I been missin' them chicks!!
P.S.S. The post is now at a halt. Feel free to move about the blog!
visit Amy at: http://www.amymaysumthin2say.blogspot.com/
I wrote a week or so back about my pity party, and apparently at that swanky soiree a broken record was played and so a week later I am still two-stepping to the same track. I am the lame person who is the last to leave a party. In the words of the urban poet Reggie Noble (Redman), "I'll be dat." However, you can't party forever, broken record or not, so I am going to slip out the back door and go sleep this sadness hangover off. All of that to say, I will be taking a little break from blogging and most things internet for a while so I can go deal with these demons. I have to convince those annoying critters that I can't party with them anymore. I may make some appearances on Twitter, but otherwise I'll see you guys later and give you VIP invitations to a celebration where frowns and pity are not on the guest list, I promise. In the meantime my fabulous blog partner will hold you down whenever the writing spirit hits her.
Love ya,
Alise
P.S. For now, this is the party I am going to see if I can get an invite to:
I have had beef with media since 9-11. I think I’ve had it for longer than that, but it has really gotten to me since that time in our history. What I’m about to tell you isn’t a new story, like the movie Avatar, no surprises here. But I want to show you how the media has the power to influence how we view things and that just aint right.
There is a community center in Oakland California called The Oakland Green Youth Arts and Media Center. I first heard of this center while surfing the net, through an article posted on the SFGate website, home of the San Francisco Chronicle (link to article here).
The article starts like this:
Reels you in, peaks your interest, then it goes on to talk about its financial contributors, the Peapod foundation created by the Black Eye Peas, whom I love pre and post Fergie. Next it focuses on one of the teenage “got it together stories” of a young man who turned to rapping after a shooting ended his chances of attaining a tennis scholarship. It goes into detail about him being a music producer now and helping the other kids produce music. Feel good story I guess. BUT wait, lets back up, in the beginning, the article said “the center will offer much more than a building full of professional-caliber recording studios…”, yet the article only focused on the recording studios and turning inner city, at risk or already risky potential gangbangers into rappers. Hmmm…I instantly gritted my teeth. I mean, record studios are a dime a dozen nowadays, like liquor stores and churches (the building and the chicken). Why the heck would this be beneficial for this particular demographic? Do we think grooming inner city at risk youth to become rappers is a good way to meet the needs of the youth? My rage forced me to dig a little deeper. Because like I said before, I like the Black Eye Peas. I like what their foundation does, and with some of the members being inner city youth, I thought they would come a little better than that. My research lead me to another article about the center, from the center’s website.
The beginning of this article says (link to article here):
Much flipping better! This I can get behind. This I can support. This is something I wouldn’t mind getting involved with.
My point in showing you this is that you can’t, simply CAN NOT believe everything you read. You have to dig deeper. The media isn’t out there to keep you informed, it’s out there to keep you in place. It’s out there to make sure you are feeling and are perceiving the world in the way that best suites the powers that be. Am I taking this to a whole other level? Perhaps. But it’s already understood that what I think about…the way things work. I just say, look a little deeper, all that appears bad, probably isn’t, and all that seems easy and sure fire, probably isn’t.
There is a community center in Oakland California called The Oakland Green Youth Arts and Media Center. I first heard of this center while surfing the net, through an article posted on the SFGate website, home of the San Francisco Chronicle (link to article here).
The article starts like this:
“The walls are freshly painted in blues, browns and whites, the bamboo dance
floor is polished, andthe sound equipment has been tested again and
again. All that's left is opening day for one of the more ambitious
enterprises of musical, video and performance-art creativity that Oakland has
seen. It's the Green Youth Arts and Media Center, and when it officially
starts business on Telegraph Avenue on Jan. 14, the center will offer much
more than a building full of professional-caliber recording studios and new
computers loaded with high-end multimedia software.”
Reels you in, peaks your interest, then it goes on to talk about its financial contributors, the Peapod foundation created by the Black Eye Peas, whom I love pre and post Fergie. Next it focuses on one of the teenage “got it together stories” of a young man who turned to rapping after a shooting ended his chances of attaining a tennis scholarship. It goes into detail about him being a music producer now and helping the other kids produce music. Feel good story I guess. BUT wait, lets back up, in the beginning, the article said “the center will offer much more than a building full of professional-caliber recording studios…”, yet the article only focused on the recording studios and turning inner city, at risk or already risky potential gangbangers into rappers. Hmmm…I instantly gritted my teeth. I mean, record studios are a dime a dozen nowadays, like liquor stores and churches (the building and the chicken). Why the heck would this be beneficial for this particular demographic? Do we think grooming inner city at risk youth to become rappers is a good way to meet the needs of the youth? My rage forced me to dig a little deeper. Because like I said before, I like the Black Eye Peas. I like what their foundation does, and with some of the members being inner city youth, I thought they would come a little better than that. My research lead me to another article about the center, from the center’s website.
The beginning of this article says (link to article here):
“The Oakland Green Youth Arts & Media Center is one of the first arts
and multimedia centers dedicated to both ecological awareness, as well as
artistic and professional development for underserved youth in the nation. By
working as a coalition with other non-profit partners to offer media arts and
green job readiness training with wraparound services, this Center
aspires to prepare youth to join either the entertainment or green industries. Further, through business/entrepreneurial mentorship, it will prepare its constituents to enter the marketplace with business-to-consumer and business-to-business ventures. The Center will provide the basis for training, operations,
structure, and resources — all that is needed to achieve the success of
youth businesses incubated at the Center. Eventually, peer-to-peer training
and networking will carry both the Center and it’s constituents forward.
Green For All strongly believes that the Center will serve as a model for
other cities and community development entities, and that its management – who
is also participating in our Business Coaching Program – can exchange stories
and best practices with similar
centers across the globe.”
Much flipping better! This I can get behind. This I can support. This is something I wouldn’t mind getting involved with.
My point in showing you this is that you can’t, simply CAN NOT believe everything you read. You have to dig deeper. The media isn’t out there to keep you informed, it’s out there to keep you in place. It’s out there to make sure you are feeling and are perceiving the world in the way that best suites the powers that be. Am I taking this to a whole other level? Perhaps. But it’s already understood that what I think about…the way things work. I just say, look a little deeper, all that appears bad, probably isn’t, and all that seems easy and sure fire, probably isn’t.
When it is dark enough, you can see the stars. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
Right about now I need as many inspirational quotes as folks can throw to me. Right now folks, is a dark period for your good ol' silly buddy Alise. Usually I can joke myself or talk myself through tough times. However, this time around I am just tired. Exhausted is probably a better word. Or maybe exasperated. No, I think weary is the best You must excuse me, I am a
Just keep in mind in this post I am just having a pity party, and you just happened to get invited. Just a moment of weakness and sadness, yeah I know my party favors suck. It's all I could afford. *Kanye Shrug* I'll be better tomorrow I am sure, but for now let's two step to my blues.
Love ya...
Fear is the knee jerk reaction to rapid change. But change is not a monster, I repeat, change is not a monster. Rapid change, although it may seem a bit overwhelming at first, does not spell out the imminent END to all things. I promise. And if you can’t believe a virtual blog entity for which no one really knows if I truly exist, then who the heck else can you believe?
I’ve been reading articles lately written by the 50+ crowd commentating on technology and its rapid development and its impact on their lives. Wah wah wah. One lady wrote that she hopes twitter doesn’t replace a novel in her grandchild’s lifetime. Gimme a break. That’s like the automobile taking the place of walking. People will always walk, if they know what’s good for them. When people stopped walking, they all got obese, then came the “get fit” revolution, and now the people are demanding sidewalks be put in place everywhere, because we must walk. But that is another argument for another blog. My point is that although technology and social media is hitting us faster and harder than a cold wind chill on a January morning, I assure you social media will NOT take the place of good old fashion social activities.
And let me say this too, social media is a form of technology, it is not the embodiment of technology. People shun social media, they shun technology, but please believe that technology is what brings you your nightly news in HD. Technology is what makes it possible for you not to use your legs to walk a block to the corner store. Technology is what makes it possible for you to read my current rant. I dislike technology for reasons only an educator with a technology degree can understand. So basically I’m defending my right to hate technology for my own personal reasons, and I don’t want to be clumped in there with the other chicken littles.
I want to assure the world that social media will not be the downfall of technology or change. It will be like disco…
Things that we have learned in ‘09 that we will take into ‘10:
Eysqueen
Ultimately, the only one responsible for and has the power over your own happiness is you. No more excuses as to why I can’t be happy. It’s all on me. Not sweating the small stuff not only works, but has helped me maintain inner peace. Inner peace can be attained as soon as you stop letting the outer chaos dictate how you feel about the world around you. I see silver linings, half full glasses, and positive outcomes at every turn. I no longer give an audience to negativity. I am awesome! My friends are awesome!
Alise
In 2009 I have learned that it is okay to cry. I have ranted on this blog and on my other about people allowing me to just have my emotions... Well, at this point I don't care what others say and won't address that anymore, because if I need to cry, I will. If I need to laugh at inappropriate times, I will. If I need to withdraw and be to myself, I will. If I need to step on stage just to get attention, I will. If I need to write sad poems that make very little sense, I will.
My other lesson I learned is to accept genuine and heartfelt help and to learn to ask for it. Independence and all is a wonderful thing, but sometimes a good soldier's best strategy is to throw up the white flag and admit defeat. Then launch a sneak attack when the enemy least expects it. BAM!
Things that we have learned in ‘09 that we will leave behind:
Eysqueen
One person’s misery doesn’t have to be shared by me. I can be understanding from afar. Winter weight, holla! Excuses for underachievement, I’m so much better than the limits I set upon myself, so I’m leaving self imposed limits behind. I can only be as happy or as miserable in my relationship as I am as happy or as miserable with myself. So I’m not going to expect my relationship to make me happy if I can’t make me happy first. Leaving the responsibility for my self care off of other’s shoulders.Alise
I will leave behind a couple-few "friends". I will also leave doubt, anxiety, and fear in 2009. Those are the only 3 things that have held me back, wait there are 4 things that held me back. Me.
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