Please Pass the Buck

This week being that famous holiday of thanks, I would like to pose a question to those who have so much that one would have to question where they start in their long list of things to be thankful for.  When you have more to your name than 85% of Americans, better yet, more than 90% 0f the rest of the world, what would you be most thankful for?  Would you first be thankful for the fact that you're a cut above the rest economically?  Or that you didn't have to prepare your own meal?  Would you question why you were so fortunate or be so filled with the sense of entitlement that the thought wouldn't even cross your mind?

I keep asking these questions as if I'd know what the answers were.  Personally, I feel I would pass the buck instead of the gravy on Thanksgiving.  I would be more than happy to share my wealth with others.  Let's say I had a large home, I'd invite people who couldn't fit into the local shelters in to get something to eat and a warm shower.  It  would make me feel good. 

Teachme

I haven't been retaining the lessons you've tried so hard to teach me. 

Am I ready to learn? 

My memory fails me so often, I tend to fail many a test and yet you keep trying to teach me.  I admire your dedication and perseverance.  Who would have thought I'd be this much of a dunce when it comes to your subject matter.  You didn't know what was in store for you when I walked into your classroom and I thank you for not giving up as yet.  

Am I ready to learn?  

Yesterday I wrote about the things that have been happening in my journal.  I thought it was time I reminisced the old school way--paper to pen.  I mean why not? But it took too long, and then my right hand began to hurt, and not being ambidextrous I couldn't start writing with  left so I gave up.  What did I learn? That I liked typing my thoughts more than writing them.

Am I ready to learn?

Am I ready to listen to the lessons you whisper into my ears. The lessons you bark into my face. The lessons I should have learned ages ago. 

Dear Life, I think I'm ready to learn from you tonight. 

Happy Girls & Happy Boys

I think the fascination with "The Pregnant Man" needs to end.  Personally I could have cared less wether I was born to a woman portraying a male gender or a woman portraying a female gender, so long as the love they provide me with is genuine and the ways of the world they taught me were decent enough for me to call proper.  We say nothing of women who stop at nothing to get children and go even so far as to go to other countries and take children from there so why should it be so interesting to find a family within the States willing to go to all ends to form their own family?  What makes that so odd? Certainly I think it's unconventional but I tip my hat not shake my head in scorn.  Sometimes I think it would truly be best if we all kept our thoughts to ourselves and other times I understand the idea of keeping an open discourse.  Personally I feel the mania should have ended with his first child, and not proceeded further.  A blurb here or there that he was pregnant again and I would have been content.  If I were him I'd put a sign on my door saying "Enough Already!!"

This Is My Jam

I have no idea what this song is, but I like it. 

"Oh my damn, this is my jam..."

Never mind. I love it.

Mother Dearest

In the corner of my eye I see you. You refuse to leave my peripheral so I must continue to see you there.  I refuse to change my course just to remove you from my line of sight.  And you refuse to be moved.  How does one pass when two mountains are so close there is no pass? 

In the corner of my eye I saw you. Leaving. A young girl sitting on the veranda, simply wishing her mother would not leave. But you did.  Feelings of desertion took your place. You would return again later on in the year with trinkets, baubles, and honeyed words meant to cajole my love.  

Your visits were akin to giving the poor 25¢ instead of giving them a job--too inadequate to solve the major issues at hand. I grew to be bull-headed, materialistic, and guarded. You grew older. I grew taller than you. You grew more depressed than I.  We grew apart--not that we were ever close.

I am reminded every time I look in the mirror that you made me. I am exactly one half of you. I think highly of myself which means I should think highly of you as well. But alas, the case is that our love is one of obligation. I find there are times when all I do is worry if we will be able to speak to each other again. To laugh again. To be family--mother and 1st daughter again. I fear sometimes our battles are too violent and our peace treaties insufficient for making up. I will continue trying to find a pass. I think.

Because yesterday I blamed you. I blamed you to filth. For the broken home, for the poverty, for the instability, but most of all for the relationship that I desired but will never be... because of you. See? I blamed you.  Today I am trying to work through my feelings. Tomorrow I may wake up to find myself over it. Over you. And over the mountain pass which doesn't exist. 

Laid

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world....

Solange Knowles sported furry heals and yellow eyeliner, fake hair and a very gratuitous smile because people are finally paying attention to her now that her sister & singer, Beyoncé, has stepped out of the spotlight.

I wonder... 

If I became a superstar, if I would feed into the hype.  You know I do have an obsession for dressing.  But my obsession to window-shop is far greater cause let's face it, I am frugal cheap. At this point in my life I think I'd want to be as laid as possible.  Laid back that is.  Comfortable and relatable to all.  I wonder if these superstars know that they try so hard to be like by everyone but hardly ever can relate to anyone by the "image" they work so hard to keep up.  *sigh*

Now back to your regularly scheduled progams

Even Ground

The poor get poorer. 

The rich get poorer.

So long as we have a divide and words such as "rich" and "poor", we all lose.