Archive for the ‘freedom’ Category

The Obama era: Hero-worship has a price

On Jan. 20 I watched history from the cubicles of our news office.

I’m sure many of you as well, with permission from your bosses or not, popped open a few windows on your computer and tuned in as President Barack Obama was sworn in as the first African-American president. This has been something we have heard for a long while — this word “first.” I have to say it was a moment that I will never forget. And from the stories of my parents’ past, it was a very significant day moving toward healing the wounds of a time where I may not have been able to even write these words to you today.

However,  I also know that this huge job of being president works beyond cultural background or the color of one’s skin. And I only hope that President Obama will be able to work to mend America. What his new presidency has surely done so far is bring people together. But what has to be the one thing I can’t stop thinking about among all this “history” is the constant comparisons to Martin Luther King Jr. The constant comparisons to the days of Camelot. And the constant sheer hero-worship of a man not even my father’s age running our country.

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Can’t get away fast enough…

I think that in a past life I was some kind of wood nymph or a bit of wind that moves leaves about and messes up your hair. No. I’m not getting corny on you. I’m just trying to come to grips with the fact I can’t seem to be content in the same spot for very long. Or at least the same spot that isn’t offering much in line of, well — life…

Ever see that movie Chocolat? I kind of feel like that. Like I need to keep moving…

With new developments at work, my life and the fact that I’m always wanting to see and learn more, I’ve pondered a few potential places of relocation. Because of it, I’ve not been a very good blog friend and need to catch up on all my reading here. I’ve been quite busy on journalismjobs.com. First pondered move? Alaska. That’s right. All I can keep thinking about is the beautiful scenery of Juneau. The photographic possibilities are ENDLESS…

There are other places too. I’ve received some interest per email and will let you know what turns up. What may turn up is nothing. And I stay here in the scenery flat tumbleweed of Texas. But I’m still seeking everything out like some kind of driftwood who has had just about enough of her share of being banged up against all the currents. 

I know life isn’t smooth anywhere you go. But if that’s the case, I at least want to be doing my not-so-smooth life somewhere with potential beyond the newest bottle service, overly priced martini lounge.

A noose at Columbia?!

Jena. Yes at Jena. There is no excuse for it, but that is the South. I live in the South. I know the South.

Call me an idealist, but New York has always represented a sense of freedom, beauty, opportunity and open-mindedness to me. Am I wrong? Yet another noose. Yet ANOTHER ONE at Columbia University of all places. A very distraught Madonna Constantine, the black professor who found the noose on her door, was on Good Morning America this morning–talking to Robin Roberts (my idol), which is ironic because the fact that we see black journalists everyday should show we are in another world compared to what the 50s had to offer. Anyway, the professor said one of the main things she felt was embarrassed though she said she had nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m embarrassed too.

You all know that I hate the race card. And that I don’t like to go on and on about “the black plight.” But this HAS to stop. Why is the world so hateful? I’m continuing my lose of faith in people. And this resurgence of “the noose” is childish at best, dangerous to our country’s progression at worse. I have been pretty lucky because I can’t think of a major incident in my life where I was the victim of racism. To be honest my racism had mostly been by other blacks telling me I wasn’t black enough. Very different problem. My parents however were old enough to experience racism while living in Lubbock, Texas. My mother and her siblings went for ice cream only to discover their vanilla scoops were in fact Crisco. Both of my parents also remember the segregation, the separate water fountains.

I feel so very blessed (I say blessed…even as an agnostic). I’m blessed because I know that the opportunities and the life I have today is a direct result of people who fought for what I have. But I’m fearing that we are going backwards. Not just with something like a fool hanging a noose but this is going to create more of those “movements” I despise. I don’t want to see a 1960s-like movement everytime such actions like this one are taken. I think we can solve this without a march. I think if we just EDUCATE. Show the face of racism and humiliate it. I want to see everyone banded together and speaking out in the community. Marches just get written off as “oh, there THEY go again.” But if you take actions to educate, whether that is in school or town hall meetings, maybe something can be done? But then again, maybe I’m being an idealist like I said before. And because I’m just starting and continuing to feel quite disappointed in people, I might just join a march if there is one to be a part of. I’m tired. I’m just so tired of it.

Right in my backyard

My recent move has been blissful. I love this place. I’m near nature. I’m close enough to work and downtown. That sneaky demon/angel kitty of mine has somewhere to roam outside on the balcony. But as with every damn thing in life, there is a downfall. The downfall is being a stone’s throw a way from a doctor’s hospital and a few other medical centers.

That is bad Feng Shui already. Feng Shui always tells you being near a hospital is not a good idea and yes I read about Feng Shui. Really not the point. The point is that yesterday I had to witness knobby-kneed, clear visor and monster sunglasses wearing, pasty abortion picketers. I love the idea we have all these wonderful rights. We get to say what we want (for the most part), do what we want (within reason) and we have the right to proudly display and brandish what we stand for. However is it wrong to say, and I’m really being quite whitebread and cliche, “–not in my backyard?”

There. I said it. Not gonna take it back.  The scene was so circa Roe vs. Wade. When I’m peeling out of my complex, I don’t really feel like reading posters that say  “Jesus heals.” And “Abortion hurts women.” I’m not exactly a blasphemous heathen, but I don’t need a sermon shoved at my eyes while I’m at the stoplight or that churn in my stomach–the same I get when I have to evaluate whether or not those “homeless” median dwellers holding up cardboard box panels saying “Hungry. God Bless” are really in dire straits. Hey. I’m just trying to get to the next street. Grab a damn coffee. Get to the store. I got the compulsion to yank out my lighter and torch each of those poorly scrawled phrases that contradict everything tolerance stands for.

How sick is it to know that if you were someone who has had an abortion, that in broad daylight you can be reminded of your decision and then mocked for it. How nice. And today’s issues just seem far more what will decide what kind of America we will have come voting day. The decision was made. Abortion is legal and up to a woman to decide. May she see fit not to use it as birth control but it’s still her right just the same. So let’s move on from this tired topic and stop rehashing. Besides, everyone just kept on driving.