We've come a long way baby . . .

Found this YouTube video on one of my favorite blogs. Now, I'm not easily touched but it touched me. So I'm sharing it.


I love the words it ended with and repeat them again for emphasis: This is not the end but the beginning.

Euphoria

Warning . . . . this is going to be very, very, very long.

Today’s date is Friday, November 7, 2008

Yesterday I spoke to an old friend of mine who wondered why I had not blogged about the historic election of Barack Hussein Obama as president of the United States on November 4, 2008. Here I go although I wasn't sure if I would ever even publish this (hence the length). Honestly, I hold an opinion that is not the popular or mainstream one. It helps to get my thoughts out anyway.

Let me preface all this by saying that for a long time I have been completely detached from America and American politics. There was a long period in my life where a real goal of mine was to pack it up and leave this country. It is not a stretch to say that if I had not met and fallen in love with my DH, I probably would not be living here today. There are aspects of being an American, living in America that are repugnant to me. The excess. The selfishness. The hubris. The sense of privilege. There is indeed a reason why America is not well-liked abroad. Instead of being a gentle giant it is, in its foreign policy and to its own people, especially people of color, a big bully. American history is replete with examples of how from its inception it has constantly and almost obsessively maligned and sought to destroy all people of color physically, psychologically and socially. There was a time in my life when I was sure I was living in the belly of the beast and my goal was to get out. It did not make sense to me to align myself with a sinking ship because as the old RastafaraI Nyabinghi chant goes, “Babylon (surely) gone down.”

Accordingly, I do not believe in the American political process with its Electoral College system. I honestly believe that there are powers that be, higher and more powerful than the president who ultimately decide who takes that office. I do not know how they make their decisions but I suspect it has to do with protecting their own interest, namely their money, their power and their influence. Why bother with making people vote then? Well, the U.S. is in name a democracy. That is what it prides itself on. For this reason, it goes over to foreign lands, making war and deposing heads of states. When Bush stole the election of 2000, he had the effrontery to point fingers at Mugabe’s government to criticize their political process as “undemocratic” and “unfair.” To be sure, the forefathers of this country knew that there had to be some kind of way to protect their interests. These were wealthy White men, property-owners with huge financial interests. They knew that what Joe the Plumber wanted would be, decidedly, a piece of that all-American pie. But they also knew that the common man still had very clear memories of being a British colony, taxed without them having a say. So very astutely, these forefathers made sure to allow the common man the right to vote so that he would feel like he did indeed control his own destiny by choosing who would be his president. But they were very careful to institute a filter, i.e. the electoral college so that if the popular vote came through and the popular candidate won by popular vote, that vote could be toyed with, shifted and changed to make sure the right one came into office. This is how Bush came to steal the 2000 election, except technically, it wasn’t theft. It worked exactly the way it was supposed to. So I do not believe the process for electing the president is necessarily fair and upright. And it is only recently, after having children, that I have re-gained an interest in participating in local politics which I believe are really where democracy plays out (although greed, corruption and deceit are part and parcel of any kind of politics—local or national).

So fast forward to now. From the beginning, I was not overly impressed with Mr. Obama. I’m a confirmed cynic so his message of hope and coming together really did not faze me at all. I am not into lofty language and charisma. I am into substance. So I was not overly impressed choosing instead for Mr. Obama to show me his substance, i.e. concrete plans and ideas that would perhaps lead this country to a turn around. To be sure, I was not looking for a Black messiah to heal all the wrongs that racist Whites (active racist and those who refuse to dismantle White supremacy). I never believed that was what Mr. Obama’s goal should have been so I was not disappointed that he didn’t set forth a plan for Black people. I think that needs to be perfectly clear. He clearly stated his goals, which was to unite this country. Of course, the cynic in me realizes that no one man can unite this hugely and wildly divided country. It always seemed a bit disingenuous to me, that at this time when people are really suffering under the Bush administration, to come with that message. But it was brilliant. People needed to hear it. I watched folks dazed under that message . . . screaming, “Yes We Can!” And all I asked myself is “How?”

I often wonder why now is the appointed time for a Black person to be named president (I use the term Black loosely because Mr. Obama is actually half-Black and half-White—he is not African-American either so I think if I were AA that would detract a bit from my elation). Is it because the powers-that-be are more than happy to let him take over a sinking ship? Do they see something and know something that the average person doesn’t know? Are they about to do something to ensure that the ship goes down while Obama is at the helm?

Now, to some people I’m supposed to be euphoric about Mr. Obama’s election because he is the first Black president. It seems that for some Black people, this is the overcoming, this is the mountaintop that Dr. King referenced. This is symbolic (I think it is necessary with every symbol to sort out what exactly that symbol means and this is what I have been doing constantly).

I think by now everyone has read that (annoying) e-mail poem:

Rosa sat so King could walk so Obama could run so our children could fly.

Well, actually, Rosa sat so that these racist White folks would allow her to take a bus ride like any other human being, to be like any other human being. King walked for equality that racist White folks were bent on denying to Black people. It is not yet clear why Obama ran—time will tell that story. Rhetoric does not equal real reason although I hope his rhetoric does in time prove true. And I am teaching my children right now that they can fly. That nobody can stop them from flying. Obama did not have to run for me to believe that and teach that to my children. The hugest injustice that has been done to Black people all over the world is psychological. The internalization of an inferiority complex. I’m not blaming Black people. It is difficult to damn near impossible to have a good self image with all of the violence, blatant and more hidden, that racist White people have perpetrated against Black people in all kinds of ways. Right now, Black people’s self-esteem seems to have gotten a huge boost. For that reason, I’m glad that Obama has been elected. Will this be the cure to what ails us psychologically? Maybe. If nothing else, it represents a good first step for Black people, a strong infusion of the idea of “Yes We Can” that Marcus Garvey championed decades ago under the mantra “Up ye mighty race . . . you can do what you will!” Maybe now Black people will start to believe it and start to take responsibility for their fate and future. For this, I’m hopeful. After all, we cannot make any more excuses. Racist White folks will not entertain our complaining any longer because they have given us our first Black president (you will note that many are congratulating Black people on this “achievement”). But why I gravitated more towards leaders like Marcus Garvey is that he preached that our self-worth was not predicated on the White stamp of approval. White people could forever and a day refuse to let us into their institutions (the presidency being, it seems, the pinnacle of all White institutions), and we would still know with every fiber or our being that we are worthwhile, beautiful, worthy. For many Black people, being let in has been the ultimate goal. The ultimate confirmation of our humanity and worth. This brings tears to my eyes. I remember sitting in college class with an esteemed professor who taught me that prior to desegregation, Black people were doing wonderful things. They were finding ways to educate themselves well. There were towns alive and thriving where Black money was circulated hundreds upon hundreds of towns within the Black community before it ever left. Not every Black person thought that desegregation something to actively fight for. There was no need to prove our worthiness to folks who did not want to by default acknowledge that. Somehow, we got caught up in worrying about how White folks saw us. Trying to make ourselves acceptable in their eyes. Changing ourselves. Abandoning our own nation building institutions and our own interests to be let in. Only to find that these people had no intentions of truly letting us in. So here we sit, still suffering, still struggling. But at least no one can legally tell us we can’t and don’t belong. At least not in word. Obama’s election represents the definitive proof that we have indeed arrived. Is it?

Another joyful declaration that I have been hearing is that Obama will give Black children a shining example of what they can be, a great alternative to rappers and basketball players. The problem is that the media and even Black people are still treating Obama as an exception to the rule, an anomaly. The media is insidious about it because they attribute his success to the fact that he is half White (of course, they don’t say it but they don’t have to). Black people show just how damaged our self-image is because we seem to buy into the idea that the well-educated, wealthy, well-to-do, intact Black family is indeed a rarity. Again, now, we can aspire to be all that because we have seen that it can be done. I say that the reason why so many Black children aspire to be basketball players and rappers is simply because they see so many—there is the belief that it can be done (even though the likelihood based on probability and straight numbers is small), it is something normal. Young people look at Young Jeezy and Allan Iverson and see folks who came from right where they are right now. If our educational system stays the way it is, if we as Black people don’t take more responsibility for our children’s education, there is just no way that becoming an Obama will be a realistic aspiration for our children even if he is the first Black president of these United States. The onus is on us to make becoming an Obama (even better and more successful) than Obama a realistically attainable goal for all our young. This requires work. Real work. Not symbolism.

So as it is clear to see, there’s nothing euphoria-inducing about my position. It is very much grounded in reality and very cautiously optimistic. Some may take my calmness about the whole situation as “not caring about the struggles that Black people have been through”. The fact that I’m not excited about Obama means that I’m a “hater”. That I am not holding hands, lighting candles and singing Kumbaya now that he’s elected means that I don’t have hope and I’m not interested in change.

Look, it will be wonderful when I’m teaching my children about the U.S. presidents for them to see number 44—a Black man. I’m hoping to have a long list of accomplishments to attribute to #44. I know that this is something their ancestors might never have been able to imagine. But I’m thankful for the resiliency of the human spirit and my ancestors who have shown me that nothing can stop you for becoming what you want to be. I especially thank my father. Upon visiting the village where he is from a few years ago, it struck me very strongly how much of an accomplishment his doctorate is. This town had no roads. No running water. I fully appreciate just how much drive and determination it took for my father pull himself out of that and become who he is today. I’m proud of him. I’m blessed that I have that example. I’m blessed that inside of me, without a doubt, I already knew before Obama came on the scene that, “Yes, I can.” And my children will know that without a doubt. And I know that without a doubt all Black people can. We can be what we will. We didn’t need Obama becoming president for this to be true. It was true all along. The only problem is that we allowed these racist White people (through our disorganization and because of our fear) to make us believe that it wasn’t. Let us not look to them now to give us the green light that it is okay to believe in ourselves again, to believe ourselves worthy once again.

So, yes, I voted for Obama. I wasn’t trying to make history. I wasn’t trying to make sure I see the first Black president. I was voting in hopes that there would be a landslide victory too large for anyone to reasonably steal without some serious uproar. I was voting in hopes that the election just would not be stolen again. I wholeheartedly believe that if the country was flying high and everything was peachy keen, McCain would be in office today. In my opinion, the hands of many White people were forced because self-interests/survival trumped racism. We are undeniable on the brink if not in the throes of the 2nd Great Depression. Oh, but you better believe that Mr. Obama will be held to the highest of high standards. It is over the next few years that we will see just how racist this country is and can be. I do not think for a minute that real, fundamental, psychological change has come to racists in America. They did what it was clear they had to do in order to survive.

I voted for Obama because he is a change. He is a change that happens to have a Black face. To me, he is not the Black face that represents change. I would have voted for any Democrat or any body willing to try something different than what Bush and his administration has been doing. I am expecting this democratic administration to do better for the common folks (as this has been the trademark of the Democrats since FDR) than a republican administration. In other words, I voted the democratic ticket. The bonus is that the democrat is Black.

So what would really make me excited? Oh, I’d be very excited to see a Black leader of any Black nation revolutionizing his/her country, bringing his/her country right into the first world. I’d be excited to see that leader breaking down corruption, stimulating his/her nation’s economy, providing food, medical care, education, basic infrastructure. I’d be excited to see that change. That would give me a huge self-esteem boost. It would require not kowtowing to White folks. It would require blatantly defying White folks. It would require just not giving one good damn about what White folks think. It would require complete self-interest and a commitment to self-determination at all costs. It would require fierce defense of self. I would be proud and excited to see that.

As for the here and now, I’ll get excited about Obama after 4 years and seeing the change actually here. I’ll get excited when words turn into action.

Right now, I’m cautiously reserved relishing hearing some of these right-wing conservative seethe and sulk now that a nigger Black man is in office. They’re doing all they can to keep from shouting “damn it!” while on the air. (Tee-hee, tee-hee . . . take that!)

Peanut Porridge

We eat peanut porridge every morning without fail, i.e. the hubby and I. Z1 will have no parts of anything having to do with peanuts or any other nut for that matter. He has millet for breakfast every morning. Anyway, we really dig our peanut porridge.

The hubby was the one who introduced me to peanut porridge. He would get it at Jamaican restaurants all the time along with other traditional Jamaican fare such as sorrel and peanut punch. At first I made it by grinding peanuts and oats. Then I started making it using peanut butter. Peanut porridge is a delicious way to start the day. It gives me energy and keeps my from being hungry well into the afternoon. Enjoy!

PEANUT PORRIDGE
Ingredients
1/2 cup whole oats, finely ground (I use a coffee grinder)
2 cups water
1/2 tsp cinnamon powder
1/4 tsp. ground nutmeg
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 cup non-dairy milk
1/4 cup smooth peanut butter
pure maple syrup to taste

Method
In a saucepan, using a whisk, combine the ground outs with the 2 cups water (make sure it's cool water), cinnamon, nutmeg and vanilla. Place over low-medium heat and cook until just thickened. Add the milk and peanut butter and whisk until incorporated. Whisk enough maple syrup so that it's to your liking. Once everything is warmed through, cut off the heat and serve. You can add some sliced bananas for variety.

Makes two servings.

Yum!

Nothing political

Okay, I wasn't going to talk about politics but tomorrow is the big day. I can feel the anticipation in the air.

All I can think is . . . please, please let Obama come into office. I know I can't control it. I know that even if we all vote for Obama he could still not become POTUS. I am just keeping my fingers crossed that they won't steal this one--that for once, things will be fair.

Ya heard it here. Chi-Chi, the cynic admits that yes, I too am hoping for change.

Everybody and they mama

Is talking about the election. I have my views but I'm happy to keep them to myself. But rest assured, I'll vote and it'll be for Mr. Obama. What other real choice do I have? :)

So instead of talking about politics, I'll talk about . . . this fabulous rummage sale the boys and I hit up on Saturday. It was at a church some 20 minutes north of where I live. Even though I ended up missing my needlework group at the library, it was well worth the trip. I made out like a bandit. For less than $15, I was able to get a waterproof mattress pad for Z1's bed, a Gap fleece earflap hat, a book about vegetable gardening (basic how-to book which is great because I need to learn a lot before spring), a children's book about rainbows (the book is called What Makes a Rainbow and it was uncanny to have found this book because this week's topic in our curriculum is rainbows) about 4 different kinds of puzzles, 2 math manipulative sets, some Brio wooden tracks, and some Brio trains. Zion has been spending countless hours engrossed in his new stuff which I think is great! I felt like he was feeling too idle if he was not able to watch one of his DVDs (I felt he was watching too much and cut it down significantly). I'm so happy to see him interested and entertained by non-TV sources. I was a little disappointed that I didn't find any clothes. Actually, I really couldn't look as well as I would have liked because my allergies flared up terribly as soon as I got close to the clothes.

The church has the sale twice a year. I can't wait to go back and hopefully the next time the hubby will be able to make it!

Suddenly Struck Me

This morning I was doing my 5.5.5 (which is more like 15.15.15 or 30.30.30 since I've been going to bed at the same time as the boys and getting up at 5:30AM). So in the post So What Connects Us? I was trying to sort out what connects Black people aside from the color of our skin (oh, and thanks to all who commented especially OG--good food for thought). I had concluded that nothing tangible does. That has been bothering me and occupying a lot of my mindspace for the past few days because even when I meet Black people whose views and/or experiences are the total opposite of mine, I still somehow feel connected in some way. I wanted to make sure that I wasn't imagining things, feeling something that really is not there! There's something there (even though I might really prefer to hang out with someone White who I can tangibly connect with).

So anyway, I was reading a book about Chakras (actually, The Book of Chakras by Ambika Wauters--review forthcoming)and there was an exercise there that asked me to rub my hands together and then hold them apart. I could feel the energy. It suddenly struck me . . . it's energy that holds us together. Like how my little Z2 automatically recognizes that another baby is a baby. How dogs know and (generally speaking) like to be around other dogs. Like knows like or like they say in the streets, "Game recognize game". I can go to a group for Black SAHMs and not really have all that much in common with everyone aside from being Black and and a SAHM. But I really enjoy being with the "sistas". It's a familiarity. A comfort. And something you can't quite pinpoint. And a good (valid) reason to stay a part of that group even if I also decide I'd like to join another, more racially mixed group of mothers who share my parenting styles, ideals, or life-situation.

So while I've completely gotten rid of the delusion that Blackness automatically confers some kind of tangible connection, i.e. that I should be able to find at least one thing I can connect with a Black person on aside from our Blackness, I'm happy to have realized that indeed, the energy of being Black, whether you like it or not, is indeed one heck of a strong connection.

:)

LoL . . . Your Dating Persona

So at least on at least two of the blogs I follow, the blogger has done this "dating persona test". I got curious so I did it too! I think it describes me to a tee. Tee-hee. Waste of time, yeah, but oh so fun!

The Maid of Honor Deliberate Gentle Love Master (DGLM) Appreciated for your kindness and envied for all your experience, you are The Maid of Honor. Charismatic, affectionate, and terrific in relationships, you are what many guys would call a "perfect catch"--and you probably have many admirers, each wishing to capture your long-term love. You're careful, extra careful, because the last thing you want is to hurt anyone. Especially some poor boy whose only crime was liking you. We've deduced you're fully capable of a dirty fling, but you do feel that post-coital attachment after hooking up. So, conscientious person that you are, you do your best to reserve physical affection for those you respect...so you can respect yourself. Your biggest negative is the byproduct of your careful nature: indecision. You're just as slow rejecting someone as you are accepting them. Your exact female opposite: Half-Cocked Random Brutal Sex Dreamer Always avoid: The False Messiah (DBLM), The 5-Night Stand (DBSM), The Vapor Trail (RBLM), The Bachelor (DGSM) Consider: The Gentleman (DGLM), someone just like you.

Link: The Online Dating Persona Test | OkCupid - personals | Dating My profile name: : pixiedust99

Staying at Home (Not Working)

So the hubby and I decided that the best course of action for our family is for me to stay at home right now. He is opposed to me doing any kind of paid of work and is more than happy to work doubles, pick up extra shifts on his days off, and stay longer at the job if they need him too. All he requires is that I "hold it down at home". What does holding it down entail? Basically, I run the house. I wash and fold all the laundry (although yesterday he did two loads while I took the boys to their playgroup), I keep the house tidy (although he is by no means a slob and is actually more meticulous about neatness than I am), I do all the cooking (he takes home cooked food for dinner at work and I generally pack his meals), all the grocery shopping and 99% of the childcare including lessons for Z1. I enjoy what I do and so does he. He doesn't feel an guilt or insecurity about working the way he does and enjoying it (and he shouldn't) but I sometimes do.

Yesterday, I was talking to one of my girlfriends and I got all mealy mouthed about why the hubby doesn't want me to do any paid work. Now, the answer is clear in my mind: it interferes with my first (and most important) job which is running the household. Any other work I do tends to not be really worth it. For example, I thought about babysitting but I realized I could only charge at most $800. The kind of disruption that caring for another child who's not my own would bring to our family life, well, it would just make more sense for me to go back to teaching and make some real money. That way, we would know that my job is outside the house, household responsibilities need to be split evenly and we'd have a significant paycheck to show for it.

But for some reason, I just couldn't spit it out. Now, that bothered me. So I sat down and thought about why I couldn't get it out. It's because somewhere deep inside, I feel a little embarrassed that I really do enjoy the traditional role of mother and wife. I mean, I can get with the role of professional woman and intend to do so after the boys are grown or at least school-age but right now, being a traditional wife works for me and my family. Yet, I still struggle with the feelings of it being some kind of cop-out at best and failure at worst.

Yeah, people react negatively sometimes asking me if this is "all I do". My own mother speaks of it in a negative light even though she stayed home for a long period of my early childhood. I mean, nowadays, people's reactions and what people say or think about me bother me less and less. I do what I need to do to feel complete and whole spiritually and intellectually. I do what is best for my family, the most important people to me. But sometimes that insecurity creeps in and I get all mealy mouthed instead of straightforward and direct when describing our situation.

I can't blame DH. He likes to have freshly made blueberry muffins for breakfast on any random day. He likes to know that his children are exceptionally well cared for without a doubt. He likes to consistently have freshly laundered and folded clothing to wear. He likes these things, that I can only do because I stay home, so much that he's willing to work for it. And since I like to do these things, I'm happy to let him.

I don't know. The economy may get so bad that our priorities will have to shift and I may have to force my way back into the work force. Not a pretty thought but it might come to that. I'm grateful I have something to fall back on (even if I do have to take some classes and workshops to become hire-able). I have the degrees and always will. So I'm working on letting go of any insecurities that surround being a homemaker. I'm striving everyday to do a better job of it than I did yesterday.

Spontaneous Pumpkin Pie

I didn't plan on making pumpkin pie today.

Today, at Z1's organized playgroup, they were handing out free pumpkins. Since the one we got at the farm is still hard as rock, I decided to hack it up and roast it so that Z1 could stop harassing me about eating some pumpkin. Well, he's hardly interested in the pumpkin now that it's cut and roasted (actually he told me that it was "nasty) so I decided to make a pumpkin pie.

This is the first time I'd ever tried roasting pumpkin for a pie (although I've roasted other squashes) and I can't say that it's something I'll keep doing. I mean, it's not hard exactly but I don't like pumpkins enough to go through the trouble (it's a lot of clean up: the pan, the skins, the seeds--lots and lost of seeds, the food processor).

So from one pumpkin, it seems I have enough to fill two shallow pie dishes or one large one. I think I'll go for the large one. Right now, the pumpkin pie filling is in the food processor (I made it the same way I make sweet potato pie since I didn't feel like hunting for a recipe). After nursing Z2 (which I'm doing while I type this), I'll change his diaper, put in the mei tai and get to making the crust.

Pictures and recipe coming.

Edited at 9:50 PM. Okay, I lied. There will be no picture. I don't feel like fiddling with the camera. There may be a recipe but I don't feel like going to the kitchen to get my recipe binder right now.

(My scalp is on straight fire. I want to rip it off. )

But in any case, the pumpkin pie came out fabulously. Z1 loved it and asked for more. It wasn't as firm as I would have liked it but it tasted soooo good.

Yum, Yum!! Pumpkin Muffins!!

So I made the Pumpkin Muffins using the recipe from Vegan with a Vengeance (which can also be found here) and which I've posted below.They were, simply put, delicious. We gobbled them up. I still have half the can of pumpkin (which I found on sale for $1.20 a while back and again today for $1.50--not quite as good a deal but better than the $2.00 Trader Joe's was trying to sell it to me for). I'm going to make another batch probably Thursday or Friday just to use up the remainder.

Here's the recipe:
PUMPKIN MUFFINS (by Isa)
Ingredients
1 3/4 cups flour
1 1/4 cups sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon ginger
1/4 teaspoon allspice
1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
1 cup pureed pumpkin (fresh or from a can)
1 tablespoon soy yogurt
1/2 cup soymilk
1/2 cup vegetable oil
2 tablespoons molasses

Directions
Preheat oven to 400 F. Grease muffin tins with vegetable shortening or spray on oil.

Sift together dry ingredients (flour through cloves). In a seperate bowl, wisk together wet ingredients (pumpkin through molasses). Pour wet into dry and combine. Fill muffin tins 2/3 of the way. Bake for 27-30 minutes, till a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
------------------------------------
The recipe makes 6 jumbo muffins (or 12 regular sized muffins--reduce the time you keep them in the oven). I halved the amount of sugar and they were still *very* sweet. More like a pumpkin cupcake than a muffin. If I were to make these for breakfast, I'd probably cut the sugar more.

Yo, seriously well worth it. A wonderful harvest treat. Can't wait to make more!!

In other not-so-wonderful news, a brick of tofu at Trader Joe's (tofu serves as our "break" from beans) has gone up to $1.70. When I first started going to TJ's, I was getting a brick for $1.00 (or at most $1.25). I am not lying. Dang-nabbit! Am I going to start having to make my own tofu too????!!!

Uggh.

5.5.5.

No, I'm not talking about some great delivery pizza deal.

On Friday, I attending a meet-up of stay-at-home moms and the hostess introduced the mantra "Five, five, five" which means that first thing in the morning, you take 5 minutes to Read, 5 minutes to Write and 5 minutes to meditate.

Now, this is not a new concept to me in any way. Before Z2 was born, I was doing this diligently every morning usually outside on my back porch weather permitting. I felt centered and calm. Z2 is nine months and I have not been able to get back in the practice. It seems like I can never get up early enough to have some time to myself and at night I honestly don't feel like doing it. I don't necessarily feel like being that "into" myself so late especially since I already have trouble falling and staying asleep (and breastfeeding at night doesn't help one bit with that). It's the same reason I'm still carrying ALL of my pregnancy weight around because the time to exercise eludes me (Yes, I know, I'm supposed to work out with the kids but, honestly, I need to focus when exercising and I can't even take a nice long walk listening to my Ipod because Z1 is usually yapping away.) I have not yet been able to find that morning time that I need but I think it's because I have not been willing to get up early. I have not been willing to go to sleep early. It's 1:44AM as I type this. I should have been sleeping already for maybe two hours. I generally fall asleep with the boys at 8:30 and stay asleep (passed out) till 11 or 12. That's how I end up being awake at obscene hours of the morning reading blogs, posting to mine, and on message boards. And how the time to exercise and do things like 5.5.5. in the morning gets scuttled away. Truthfully, discipline, serious discipline is one aspect of true wealth.

Anyway, this morning I woke up just 15 minutes earlier (I set an alarm instead of allowing Z2, the human alarm, to wake me up). I was able to get the 5.5.5. in although I admittedly spent way longer than 5 minutes journaling which is most therapeutic and helps me to get into myself the deepest. I realized that the book that I had relied on for a while in terms of affirmations and self-healing (Meditations to Heal Your Life by Louise Hay) is, in many ways, irrelevant to how my views and ideas of God/the Universe are evolving. At one point, Iyanla Vanzant's book of daily meditation/devotionals just started to piss me off instead of helping me focus. It's so interesting to me that in the time that I have been neglecting reading, journaling and meditating, that my ideas about the Creator have come to such a turning point.

I'm in a place of questioning. I'm not completely convinced that the Creator is all-knowing, all-powerful, all-mighty. I'm not completely convinced that the Creator is love and always has my best interests at heart and has some kind of master plan in the works for me (which is why Ms. Hay's and Ms. Vanzant's books are troubling). I'm not completely convinced that the Creator is even actually interested in the day-to-day runnings of human affairs and is control of things. The evidence seems to say, at least to me, that it made this whole thing (the earth, humans, this universe, etc), set it in divine (and dare I say, perfect) order, gave human beings the intellect and skill to correctly navigate the world if they would just tune in to its rhythm, and then moved on to something else. I mean, I know I'm blessed in many ways but I'm having a difficult time understanding how blessings are distributed amongst us as humans (and even animals). Don't get me wrong. I'm immensely grateful for everything I have and tell the Creator so but I do it more so for the energetic aspect of giving thanks (because gratitude is very powerful)than because I think it is actually listening. I just really don't know. I hope so.

So the final 5 minutes were basically spent talking to the Creator (which involved having faith that it was listening), asking it to help me understand it better or get to a place of peace about not understanding it or a place of peace/comfort/confidence in my (limited) understanding of it. I basically asked for it to prove itself in a way that would be undeniable to me because honestly, I want to believe (I think having faith is supposed to make life a lot easier because it gives you something outside of yourself to rely upon). I think once I can really solidify what I believe about God (and I feel like I'm close), it will make doing things like 5.5.5. much easier and straightforward. I would know where to look. I could be focused.

Anyway, I've put a few Buddhist devotional books on hold at the library as I think and hope these might work better for me as my daily spiritual reading exercise.

I'm going to try to keep up with 5.5.5. and I hope to see a turnaround in my not-so-bright disposition of late. I'm also trying to corral my thoughts as they have been so out-of control negatively for a while now (what with my hair issues, weight issues, clothes issues and money issues which all lead to some serious insecurities about almost everything including my social interactions). This is the one thing that Meditations to Heal Your Life is excellent for--turning your thoughts around. Interestingly enough, I'm finding myself being very resistant to changing my thinking right now. So . . . I'm going to have to really, really put a lot of effort into pushing negative thoughts out to invite positivity and a bright outlook back into my life. I think I should go talk to Z1 about that one. That is one sunshine-y kid! :)

Itching to Try a New Recipe

But it needs to be fool proof and include ingredients that I already have on hand. I borrowed Vegan with a Vengeance from the library and I've peeped a few recipes that I think fit the bill.

1. Roasted Butternut squash soup--squash is in season so it's relatively inexpensive)
2. Spanakopita (spinach pie)--I have a box of phyllo dough that's been in the freezer for ages (was going to make baklava with it). I can get spinach and tofu relatively inexpensively. I can't imagine this wouldn't taste good. I think I may use half the box for spanakopita and half for baklava (which is a sure-fire hit). That way if the spanakopita is gross at least it's not a huge waste.
3. Pumpkin muffins. Lots of sugar but we all know pumpkins are bland as heck. Might be really good. I'm following a thread on one of my message boards about this one. That will help me decide.
4. Zucchini Bread. People have been sweating this recipe for ages. I'd like to give it a try. I can't imagine it could turn out to be that awful.

I'm getting a bit excited but trying to stay very practical and realistic.

Just Can't Knit or Crochet for Some Reason

I haven't picked up knitting needles or a crochet hook in weeks. I don't know what's going on. I'm so unmotivated. I bought the yarn for these socks weeks ago. The yarn was a great deal. The pattern is free. And sock-knitting is unchartered territory for me. But I just can't seem to get motivated.

I have been reading quite a bit though. I finished A Tree Grows in Brooklyn over two weeks ago and meant to write a review. I then read The Shadow Speaker by Nnedi Okorofor-Mbachu. I was enthusiastic to read that book because I recognized the author's Igbo name. It's written for age 12 and up but it was still enjoyable and also the strangest book I have ever read. I'll review it later. I spent the whole.entire.day in the kitchen today and I'm so exhausted.

Not to mention trying with all my might not to go over the grocery budget this month. I can't believe we still have one more week to go. I'm out of tofu. Out of probiotics (which, it seems, I need to be, uh, regular). Out of cashews. Sheesh. And my vital wheat gluten still has not arrived. Time to start sending some strongly worded e-mails.

What Connects Us?

I've been thinking lately. I guess we all know by now that the times are changing and uncertain. It's a good time to just stop. And think.

I was involved in a discussion a couple of days ago and it made me start wondering: What really connects us? By us, I mean Black people.

I think I've come upon an answer. There's really nothing that connects us. The only one thing that tenuously holds us together is our color. And even at that . . . there are so many shades of Black, even Black so light it looks like White.

I thought about various things that could be connectors. Like our history. But we all have different histories. Could it be our interaction/reactions to White oppression and subjugation? We've all experience this quite differently. Could it be that we all come from Africa? Well, so many of us are a combination of so many different backgrounds that we can't strictly say that every Black person is 100% African. It's certainly not language that connects us.

And it's certainly not culture.

Because there is no such thing as "Black culture". And you will find that once you try to postulate about certain aspects of "Black culture," you will most certainly find that some Black people take serious offense at that. For example, I used to freely say that "Black folks love to dance" or "Black people have a intuitive sense of rhythm." Now, I'm learning to be very careful about that because undoubtedly, someone will say (sometimes angrily), and perhaps rightly so, that it's not true of all Black people, that Black people are not one homogeneous blob.

And I never believed that we were. But I always believed there was some thread that held all of us together. That we are all vested in some issues that affect all of us. That there are some values that we all hold true. Some aspects of how each one of us were raised that are the same. Some generalizations we could make about ourselves as Black people and all agree, that yeah, for the most part, it's true. That beyond our color, there are things that grow from our common experience of being second-class citizens, degraded often and abused always. If nothing else, I thought we could at least agree that we all have a knack for survival.

But, I guess, my cynicism has taken over and I just don't believe it anymore. Color actually doesn't connect. I am keenly aware of how I feel excluded from conversations that focus about African-Americans--I don't share much of that history. In my younger days, I used to wonder how could anyone date and marry outside of their race . . . how would they understand each other? And now, it's clear. And I hope my younger sister and young niece are able to let go of the idea that there is actually some kind of real connection between people because they are Black and cast a wide, inclusive net when it comes to who they make friends with and who they partner romantically with.

Of course, if Black people want to connect on the level of their Blackness, it's actually quite easy to do so. Because even if our backgrounds are not exactly the same, there are similarities that are undeniable. Across the board and across the races, human beings are more alike than different. And that one small, obvious similarity (darker skin), I think, could draw us closer and closer. But I wouldn't argue that.

I, for one, don't see the use in fighting the "We all are one" or the "No matter where you come from, You're an African" battle anymore.

Finding Time to Spend Time

Tuesday is the hubby's day off and the one day when, generally, he refuses to do overtime. The hubby works alternate weekends but recently, even on the weekends he's off, he's been picking up an extra shift and sometimes even working doubles. [It's great that DH's job (he's a blood bank tech) offers the flexibility and opportunity to work as much as he wants. It's also a huge blessing that his job is relatively secure. I always think it's comforting to know that both of us have professions that are always needed and so we will always have work. We both also have skills outside of our professions that could theoretically (and in my case, as I've come to learn, very theoretically) keep us afloat if the jobs were no more or if we needed to augment our income (I've been having a heck of a time finding ways to make money that doesn't require me finding childcare). I mean, my main worry in this economic crisis is not necessarily that there will be no work but actually that the dollar you make working will continue to be stretched and stretched and stretched till it can't take it any more!] Anyway, that leaves us (I mean me and him) precious little time just by ourselves. I think it's different for men and women. DH seems to think hanging out with the two Z's as a family is enough and doesn't really place an emphasis on our time. I do. It seems I constantly remind him but, your girl tries damn hard not to nag so I often just let it go. But I highly value our alone time and my own personal time. This is why you find me blogging, reading or knitting at 2:40 in the morning instead of taking my self to bed.

Anyway, tonight I fell asleep while putting the boys down. My alarm clock didn't phase me--I slept right through it (I thought I told it to "snooze" but clearly I turned it off). DH says he tried to wake me but I was out cold and he thought I needed the sleep. I have to say, I was a little peeved. I really do wait in anticipation all day Tuesday in hopes of spending a couple of hours with him. I just wished he would have gotten me up at all costs. I felt so let down! But alas, I don't think he gets that spending time with him when I can is more important than sleep to me. I can sleep tomorrow, or the day after or the day after that--he'll be at work. This is one expectation, it seems, that I'm going to have to let go. It's just not realistic with two small children. (Although, I'll be completely honest, I wonder when I hear about couples married for 25 years and then getting divorced, is this what happened? Did they get so caught up in the kids and making ends meet and all the knitty-gritty of life that they didn't take time out for each other? Didn't make it a priority? Is that why they grew apart? Will that happen to us?)

So, I'm up. Blogging. Alone.

Who knew it could be so hard to find time to spend time?