Archive for the ‘people’ 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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Celebrity stalker….

Have I become one? This week it was Will Smith. A few weeks ago John Popper. Who will it be next?! All I know is, it really is a rush meeting talented, but down-to-earth people.

dscn0122

Please don’t make fun of my face/hair. A) It was windy. B) I have a hard time hiding those fat cheeks when I’m cheesing so hard…

Will Smith walking out of the DMN

He’s so pointing at me…

Don’t mess with my trash…

It was bound to happen.

A few weeks ago I forgot to set my trash bin out the night before pickup and decided, stupidly, to leave it out the rest of the weekend as to not forget for today’s run. Not a habit I plan to develop because I think it is very tacky to keep that thing out. It makes the neighborhood look bad.

Anywho, I still had a few bags left the next morning and trotted out in my nightgown (also tacky) and got ready to dump the rest of my stuff when behold! There were several black bags of trash (filled to the brim, mind you) that I knew darn well were not mine. On top of that, they were filled with yard waste which you all know is a no-no. It wasn’t even bulk week! I was reminded of that King of the Hill episode…the same thing happened to Hank, though I was only a tad tempted to dig through the bags of trash to ID my bin-stuffer.

Mad as Cain (or McCain for that matter), I looked around and tried to see who the culprit was…yes. In my nightgown. All I did was kind of look for evidence of who might have cut some branches down recently. And of course I could not figure it out.

What would you have done? I’m sure this won’t be the last time this happens and even if I put my trash out the same day, who is to say someone won’t add last minute junk to my bin?
I need advice as a new homeowner, missing her old apartment dumpster.

I know my quest for advice is a little late, because once I got dressed that morning, I went to my computer and got to work. I typed these words:

KEEP YOUR TRASH TO YOURSELF

THIS IS A FRIENDLY REMINDER

TO THROW YOUR TRASH IN YOUR OWN BINS.

IF YOURS IS FULL, DON’T WAIT TO THE

LAST MINUTE NEXT TIME…

I posted this note on every bin on my alley. Think the neighbors hate me yet?

Confession…

I have an increasing crush on John Popper! Maybe because he was so sweet and considerate and he didn’t know me from Adam. He didn’t have to get me in that show. And he didn’t try anything funny…more than I can say for people who aren’t traveling musicians weary from the road…

Don’t worry. I’m not going to go crazy fanatical or anything. But I may consider flying to Washington for the end of their tour! Or maybe I’ll just dream I did. 🙂

photo by jenice johnson

By the way, I shot the above photo at House of Blues Dallas on Nov. 5.

The new W.

I’m sorry. I may be ignoring the issues right now, but John McCain’s “breast of fresh” flub from the last debate has got me inspired to find some links to his Freudian slip. Seems like we have already had eight years of odd comments, mixups and unintentionally funny speeches with George Bush. If John gets elected, here’s to four more!

http://airamerica.com/content/breast-fresh-air

http://www.buzzfeed.com/nicholas/sarah-palin-a-breast-of-fresh-air-5k

http://www.reddit.com/r/reddit.com/comments/77ef6/did_mccain_just_say_that_america_needs_a_breast/

I dunno. Just proving it wasn’t just me that thought he said that!

If the soul could speak…

Realizations that travel through Gmail

I’m not really a YouTube watcher. When I get a link or hear about the latest YouTube craze, I look. And then of course there are all of the other videos that pop up on the right side of the screen that taunt you to keep clicking. But I got an email from a great friend that had a link that I took a lot of notice of because it hit home.

I am probably behind in the music scene, I’m a classic rock fan anyway, but the link she sent was this Gnarls Barkley video. The song is called “Who’s Gonna Save My Soul?” It’s enough to actually get me to buy the CD. And I don’t really buy CDs. Who does anymore?

Anyway, here it is.

I feel weird that a music video has made me reflect. I hoped you watched it because here is my tirade:

Why does it work this way? I didn’t really give it much thought. But now that I have on this dark Hurricane Ike day, I can think of one guy who ruined my heart and another who walked away with it. That’s at least the simplisitic version. And both happened at least half a decade ago. Since then I think I don’t really look at men the same. Not that I compare anyone I’ve dated to them, but maybe knowing that I have already gone down that route means that once I try to travel it again, I’m already damaged goods. Yep. I said it. Damaged. Most men will say, “Ah! Told you. Women hold a grudge!” But I’m not bitter. I’m just more aware of what is at stake EVERYTIME I decide to date again. I know how temporary it all is and I’ve yet to be proved wrong. Or feel the need to feel bad about it. It just is.

I’ve grown so much since that first real relationsship. And I’m growing even still, even in this past year. What does it all mean in the end? Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s like I said. It just is. Am I supposed to dissect it?

Rate My Space: A kind of certain madness

If ever there was a more definitive moment where an individual is at his/her most self-important finest, it is when said person uploads that very first photo on the HGTV madhouse that is Rate My Space.

As long as I have been on my own, I have always felt that when I decorated the place I lived, I had what I would like to call eclectic taste on a budget. That said, I never really thought I didn’t have taste in decorating. I just was a victim of making do with what I had/could afford or what was given to me. And if I had the proper moola, every room would look a million times different. I am also a victim of an unhealthy HGTV obsession. And it has morphed into something really scary since buying my house. I watch everyday and now I’ve officially become a Rate My Space user. If you haven’t ever heard of this, it’s basically a part of the HGTV Web site in which you upload photos of your home, cross your fingers, rip yourself wide open and lie there as you let people dissect your furnishings and decor. Fun, right? Well now this concept has carried over onto the HGTV channel itself in that the lowest rated homes get renovated and are inspired by the top rated homes on the site. Madness, right? Why leave yourself open to such criticism, you might ask. Well, because I like the impartiality of it all…and I of course hope to one day be picked for the show. Sad, right?

So I’m actually risking a lot giving you guys the link but why not? Feel free to make fun, but know that I’ve changed some stuff up since these photos but not much. Look, I had all this crap before I got the place. Minus the red couch. Just trying to make it all work somehow. Don’t even ask about the glass blocks. They were some kind of charming monstrosity (yes, I see them this way — good/bad, interesting/tacky). I keep trying something new to make those things work for me, but alas, I’m sure I’ve missed the mark and I’m exhausted. Some of the comments on my spaces are brutal but I think if I showed the culprits my debt to income ratio, they would understand! In the end, maybe it will result in HGTV FINALLY coming to my little abode.

Bottom line: What people think I suppose means squat but if the average person really believed that, a Web site like Rate My Space probably wouldn’t get as much traffic as it gets. A new photo is uploaded every 30 seconds. I’ve timed it.

“I am a racist…”

How would you react to someone saying that to you? Let alone saying it so a matter of fact that it was equivalent to ordering a cheeseburger. That is what happened to me last night. I’m not going to drag this out or go on about my “hurt” feelings. But you should know this was said to me while handing out fliers for a benefit concert I am helping organize right now.

I went to a local biker hangout to pass out fliers. Before you give way to assumptions, I have known and hung out with some very open-minded and very cool biker folks. I went there thinking I was among friends. Especially because the bar right next to the hangout was one I frequented very often and always felt welcome. Boy, was I naive.

So I handed one particular biker one of the fliers. I guess I should not have disregarded he and his friends’ Confederate flag badges. As much as I hate that symbol, it is also a Southern piece of life here in Texas. And I’ve hung out with many cowboys in my day who didn’t necessarily represent the hatred behind that flag. In fact I guess they tried instead tried to change its image. But in this case, however, I was handed back the flier in an eerily polite fashion and told, “I’m a racist. I won’t be going there.” To that I quipped, “Well, it isn’t a benefit for black people.” Yes. That was me taking the higher road for the cause. But it didn’t matter. He sneered. His friends shook their heads as if to just say “nicely” to “just walk away.” As I did, I made sure to tell him that I don’t buy into the biker stereotype. And how unfortunate to find someone who fit it.

Tired of politics…

As you can see from my latest posts, I’m not really going into the latest in political coverage. Why? Because it’s just more of the same. Not about the issues. Not about what we are going to do in Iraq. Not about the condition of our current economy. It’s about who said what. Who insulted what small town. I am just tired of all of the banter and you know the two I mean. Seems like McCain has it the easiest. He could say almost anything and the media  won’t bother to cover it.

I just have not been inspired. Besides the whirlwind that is my life lately, I just haven’t mustered enough strength to come at you guys with my latest political rant. I’m just deflated. Just damn tired and mostly disappointed. I may be a part of the media, but I can safely say they are failing you as well as the likes of me. I feel like ranting about what matters in my life. And getting it all out in the open. I feel like giving the president and the presidential candidates the finger. I feel like burning this cubicle I’m sitting in and charging a ticket to Cancun for two weeks.

Today’s political climate can kiss me where the sun should shine — right there in the middle of the sea of sand I want to bask topless in.