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Monday, June 30, 2014

"True Love"

My random thoughts of true love.  Your mileage may very.

It came out in a philosopher's thinktank.
The question was "What is true love to you?"
People kept a rather limited concept, mostly around romance and claiming some one's heart. (I don't like monopolies and limitations when it comes to love)
How about the freedom to open your heart fully to another, instead of being trapped to someone?
I don't know what the world expects of me at this point, I'm sick being expected to settle and give up.
And now it expects me to pass that on to our daughters because society won't step up and meet her mind either?
I haven't really edited it, so be kind if it's a little bumpy.  It just came out this way.


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True love is the powerful energy rush you get when you feel you're headed towards your destiny, when seeking true power...a bigger love. Love resonates when you're truly on that path.
You feel it when you're on a mission to your power source.  If true power is in the ability to uplift another, your mileage may vary as to how you get there, what it looks like, how you go about it, and what skills you learn to get from here to there.
A student loves it's teacher for giving them the tools they need, and the teacher is loved through the acceptance of their teachings.  The student ACKNOWLEDGES the power of the teacher, by accepting it.  When the respect for either breaks down, no one learns and no one teaches.  There is no love there.

The great source of love gives you a guide to itself, empowering, pulling you to it, like the attraction of a magnet, until you, yourself are part of it.
One rarely falls in love with a thing they think will not help them get from point A to point Z, but when true love is the goal, we make many mistakes trying to get there...cutting corners, cheating or buying their way to it.  That's a good way to lose your way.  Many with that in mind end up with a lot of money, but very little love.

"Love thy enemy" is in the acknowledgment of one who opposes you, by giving them the respect they deserve.  Ignoring your opposition shows lack of love.  "I don't see anything powerful enough to help or hurt me....moving on" is what they experience.  A warrior, teacher, banger, head of state, wannabe lover will feel, "Where is the LOVE?"

Because we adjust as we grow, course corrections happen. Since we are on our own path, no one can really dictate how you get there, as long as love is the goal.  One can guide, but dictating and lying about love/god/enlightenment, is a sin against love.
We have trouble accepting that sometimes. Sometimes we welcome the end of what we feel was a mistake, when it was most likely part of your learning experience. One can learn to love it anyway.  I knew it was time to graduate by the second week of the month I gave the sperm donor to move out, when I asked him "Are you still here?"

In the pursuit of true love, which we know so little about, our lives are a learning experience of what it is and how to go about it. Love is like the first taste of something sweet.  At first, we get a snow cone and that's pretty good, but the goal yet to be realized is DEATH BY CHOCOLATE.

Sunday, June 22, 2014

And they STILL wonder.....

why Hans Christian Anderson died a pauper?

 
I made it through another month,
catching up to all the need to know stuff I was led to believe I didn't need to know, growing up.

A scientist will sit on the "prove me wrong" until the end of time, without help.

I never learned to play poker, because...  well, meh.
and watched over a few shoulders, especially the ones watching over mine.
upon scouting the territory to see where I should direct my energies,
you would NOT believe the reversal of logic between the east and west coast.
I know what's ethical, they know what's legal .
It's all of the above or none of the above.
There are false positives like "PC Load Letter",
And there are false negatives... "Ruh roh, the test said there was no infection!"
I graduated in 1983.  The president needs people to sue him before he can re-org congress.
I hate the idea, but some companies and rental agencies are legally disabled from using critical thinking skills while dealing with tenants suing others out of their "peaceful enjoyment' of rental properties of people they don't know as used-to-haves.  Only undeserving of their first come, first serve rights to their own.

It seems the minions have converged on me, not knowing who they were dealing with....or that they thought I didn't know.  I have NO tolerance for people who think I have to accept them, simply because they overcame "SO MUCH"  in order to tolerate ME!
So, this moron lure me to his house as a guest in a home he thought would hate me because I'm a woman of color...  their role as former slave owners......who may or may not have treated their slaves well, but I don't have to accept someone who still doesn't know how wrong it is.
I've traced my family to the Barbados excursion with a Blackwell on board the 1635 True Love.
and Master Blackwell on it's later voyages.













Wednesday, June 11, 2014

From Mother's day...not really edited..not in the mood

On another Mother's Day where I'm missing my daughter again, I thought of other moms who suffer from empty nests.  As a daughter who lost Mother at a very young age, it's been a big deal. 

You were a formidable surrogate Mom, back in the day. 
I don't know how much they ganged up on you, but I doubt you could imagine what people do in fear of my work.  It's a wild swing of people in the know who are amazed, and people who fear everything I am! 
Wow. 
On the internet, you don't really know where help/misdirects are coming from....who's on your side and who's just trolling for ways to destroy a lifetime of hard work.  You know the type of boat anchors we prefer to do without.
I was rolling along working with a community when I hit a snag with people who let themselves be educated by the wrong morons!  Meanwhile, my number one is finally seeing my work and looking to come check it out in it's proper context.
Success and neener, neener!
We've been apart for eight years due to uber capitalists with no mind for Dad's work as a systems analyst.  They never understood the technology and it's vast possibilities on our level, only how to cash in at any cost to life, liberty and the pursuit of "happiness".  Society falsely turned the word into meaning gratifying one's own basic needs with no regard for anything out of the little box they've trapped themselves into... and following the first thing that splits rent into whatever rock they crawled out from under.   We were taught to build a man up, not just cause dramatic conflicts to resolve.

He understood in the end, but people kicked me HARD to the curb...and just when I thought I was free from all of that gossip and the mainstream, Stepford-wife nonsense, a new jerk kicked over my Jenga tower of recovery after a debate he started un-armed.  And a weak woman who follows his ignorance anywhere.  It was like a day long trial by fire....
"And I didn't bring nothing but the kick and the sway of it!"
If it weren't for Father Wells and people who understood my struggles with the hypocrisy destroying my dreams, I would have been a very different kind of statistic.  I was born under a microscope and I knew from watching the boomers screw up, over and over, and yes, over again, it was clear what our generation was facing,  and what little I had to work with to become the me I was called to be.

    
So anyway, I'm working on something, and looking for Mr. Racine, a Bowie High shop teacher for class of '83.  When I was in Mr. Reck's DPR class, there was a running joke....
Mr. Reck: "Class!  What's a Harley?"
Class: "What Mr. Racine's Honda wants to be when it grows up!"
And we got an A for the day....or a cookie from the bookstore....
maybe a Jolly Rancher.
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Apparently he saw the whole thing and nobody has EVER given me the play by play.  I hear stuff, look back and go...  "Hang on...what did I do again?"
I was always awed by my talented friends, but I never saw myself do anything particularly impressive and the baby boomers used up all the film, apparently.
I read a lot of Erma Bombeck growing up.
The B-section moderates thought Ayn Rand was a wimp.
If TV broke up the shriners, soap operas done in our Stay at Home Moms.
On many occasions I escaped Stalag Beechtree Lane,
WAY the hell over by the highway to hell, (Ft. Meade to the left, Andrews to the right), with the prison chaplain right around the corner...
I ended up in back yards playing with kids begging for a friend.
After awhile, we knew when the commercials brought a mother out with snacks for the kid, food for the dog.  We read Snoopy and made the weird connection. 
I absolutely love sharing stories and reconnecting but there's a few urban legend-grade stuff I've been sorting out for a long time.  What's common knowledge to us, is not quite being


That's Beautiful!
And it's why I really am dedicated to this work that was held up for so long in a church that wouldn't have us.  The oral traditions are matching the timelines with the census records.
The snag was in the courthouse in Dodge where outlaws burned records before they went off to terrorize another town.

I won't be party to what I call "pimping diversity".  White washing me brings out ALLA my colors,
some of them plaid. 
I believe I unknowingly picked out a red and black plaid lunchbox design that actually belonged to my true Celtic ancestry.  It was common in Irish homes to have a family coat of arms and Dad showed me a possible Blackwell coat that we couldn't verify.  I was not impressed because it looked like anything found on a pack of smokes.
But we're not the Blackwell-Bull Durham folks, they are our African American cousins, their crest has a greyhound.  They sell DNA kits to be associated and claim we have no crest. The butthurt is profound.  Dad had no luck finding our Blackwells, because he didn't have the right information.  His Osage ancestry could have jeopardized his position and worse, Grandma's adorable Victorian home.  One of his cousins got on my case for my interest in our NDN routes, but I asked him who I would be tribal with, if I found my African tribe?  He presumed I didn't love Africa....and couldn't have been more wrong.  That bit was obvious, I already had been rejected for my grammar, until I went full-on Fonzie like I did in high school.  I kept my mouth shut until I knew how to interact!  Where?  The smoking bathroom down the hall from the principal's office.  His wife worked at an elementary school with my stepmother and I could do NO WRONG!  They didn't understand why they were protecting their quotas so hard with me.  My gung-ho rival was quite jealous about pecking order.  She was literally Blackanese, but I was BORN there.  If I could rant openly, I would re-kick her ass.  Because of me breaking her collar bone in 3 places, we BOTH ended up in the freaking military! 
Some kid from my class posted his Bowie High ID card and said it was ugly.
Hell, if memory serves, I

And my high school ring flew off on the PGCC softball field!
There was a girl named Paulette who actually looked and sounded like me, so we were constantly being accused of changing our clothes and kissing the wrong boys!  When we finally figured it out and got into each others faces, we had to forgive our friends because, yeah..  and we joked about taking a test for the other and snickered about, "The Larch"...  it went there.
Oh, and no, I wasn't NOLA in Spike Lee's flick, I was dancing in Good To Go getting shoved around by Art Garfunkel.  My daughter was about 6 when we saw it on BET. 
And if ET talked mess to
If he ain't livin, Imma kick his spirit!
 

You do NOT want to see those colors out of this one, right here!  There is no, "I'm just white" when I talk to people about their cultural roots.  I remind them that if you're in a bar and say that an Irish man and a Scott are the same, you're looking for some trouble!  We were there before the split, I think, so the Griffin carries across the border on Mother's side.  My Canadian cousin said we were "Highlanders" and yeah, the series was one of my favorites.
As it happens, my folks were subject to some highly debated political arguments.
The Jourdon Anderson Letter was a hot debate for education.  I knew Mother had Anderson's all along, but nobody knew where they came from until now-ish.  The first time I read it, I laughed because the snark was a familiar brand of humor. 
Dixiecrats wanted to presume the letter was dictated and there was no way he spoke so proper without help....which offends those of us who know better. Oddly they forgot how many ownders illegally left the RRR's as grunt work for slaves to worry about, being too lazy to educate themselves.  If you read it correctly, Jourdon Anderson hints at the fact he not only read for him, but did the math and writing as well.  Even funnier, he accuses his former master of that movie Clint Eastwood was in where the boarding school hid a wounded Union soldier.
Weird is where I'm probably blood related to the plantation owner and it would just be 'fittin' if the man who saved his live was a descendant of Jimmy Carter! 

I spoke as my parents did in the house.  "The Help" always has two sides, one they show on the job and one for family.  We call it "signifying" and after awhile, we do it without knowing. 


Friday, June 6, 2014

Ulali - Rattle Songs.wmv

 I'm in the mood for an intertribal enrichment..  still decompressing...



Ulali - Rattle Songs.wmv



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hc0bI7_yM-o