Love's spot

Tara the Turkey.

2006-12-18T17:04:00.000-08:00

On Dec. 9th I had my first holiday dinner party. I made a turkey! Here is it's story:

Invitation:

The story of a Turkey. An innocent turkey walks along his farm (gobble, gobble) not knowing what fate awaits him. Then suddenly < WHACK> it looses it's senses. It's journey takes it to various stops of preparation until the skinless and frozen body ends up at Safeway on Broadway, where TDL, in the hopes of catching the eye of the cute Cashier Supervisor, will pick him up. From there it's adventure has only just begun! Pleasure awaits as the little body is massaged, soaked, sprinkled with fragrant spices and warmed in the oven for a marvelous feast. Let's not let this poor turkey's life go to waste! Let's enjoy it as it was meant to be..Let's eat a turkey! Please bring some other food to help make the turkey go down easier. :)

Prep:

The turkey hunt was a little complicated. There was a short supply being that this was a little after Thanksgiving. So I had to abandon the idea of visiting Safeway and go to Albertsons instead. Luckily, we found a 14 pounder ready to go on the ride of its life. Let's call her Tara.

At home Tara was pampered and treated with the utmost respect. She was placed in the fridge so as to gently bring her back room temperature. After a wonderful time communing with friends, Tara was gently bathed in warm water to remove impurities. Sighing and content, Tara was pleasantly surprised by a massage with melted butter and fragrant spices. Unfortunately, Tara was a little embarassed about the dryness of her skin..and she new that her muscles needed juicing as well before going into the Sauna ..er oven.. and crossing into Turkey Heaven. She asked me to give her a firming and juicy treatement. I obliged. I gave her a some beauty injections of butter and spices-so that the muscles underneath her skin can be nicely oiled. I also insterted some orange slices under her skin so that she can get an infusion of Vitamin C to prevent her from catchiing a cold while visiting with friends in the Fridge.

So she goes back in for another night with her friends before she goes to Turkey heaven.

Cooking:

At the appropriate hour, Tara said her goodbyes Then I thanked her for the sacrifice that she was making for the good of the hungry stomachs that were due to arrive. She went proudly with clear purpose and conviction of a great reward. God Bless you Tara!!

Off she went into the Sauna..er oven and there she was ..roasted..at 350 degrees at 1:30 pm and covered with aluminum foil. Every 30 minutes she was basted in her ..juices. And everything was seemingly fine until when 5:30 came around, she was still a little pale. :( We pierced a leg and Tara started bleeding! And then we checked her temperature (with a thermometer I got at Dollar Tree) and she was still at a mere 180! I was panicked! Of course my friends had all sorts of advice. MA felt that we should raise the temperature to 500 degrees and uncovered. She was quite hungry..having nibbled on cake and a taco ..she could not wait one second longer! So, we did that for 45 minutes. Then another friend WH told us that 500 was waaaaay to high. He said what actually cooks at 500 degrees?? So we turned it down to 450. But then my friend TEG came the rescue. She is the resident cook and the best cook that I know in Oakland. (I am sorry if you are in OAKLAND and I know you and you cook better than her..but at this moment she is the best!) By the time TEG arrived, Tara had a nice tan..but she was still bleeding from the side. So TEG said to put the foil back on and we let it cook for another 1 hour. After that we checked the temp again and it was still at 180! And her leg ws still bleeding!

Finally it was decided that we had to disrespect Tara and just hack her to pieces. (Sorry, Tara!). We took a huge knife and cut her in half only to find that she was actually done. The bleeding was from the fact that as she was cooking the blood had no where to go. LOL.

So after a little prayer was said..we all sat down to the juiciest, most flavorful turkey there ever was. I got rave reviews! MA said that she doesn't like juicy turkeys..but she liked mine! :D

So if you missed out..here are some pictures.

http://www.evite.com/pages/archive/eviteDetails.jsp?eventID=SIODAKSZXOYXARMXPSNV

Happy Holidays everyone!

Life is Hard. :(

2006-12-12T12:30:00.000-08:00

Growing up did you have someone sit down and tell you how hard life is?

I wish my mother taught me how hard it is to live on your own: rent, PGE, Water, Garbage, Credit Cards, phone bills, student loans, Christmas, Birthdays, Dates, "Can I borrow some money?", TAXES!! How the credit system is unfair. How working and going to school is exhausting. How you might want things..and you might never get them. That beauty is in the eye of the beholder. How mean some people can be. The pressure of not having things when your friends do. Knowing who your real friends are..and your 'associates'. The pain of childbirth. The loneliness of dating. The sadness of death. The danger of our streets. Wondering if God is listening when you can't hear Him.

I wish I had someone in my life to tell me.

Do you think that maybe the problem with some of our youth is that they never had someone tell them? That they NEED someone to tell them. Some of us don't need that. We persevere through the tough times. We struggle without asking for help. We deal the best that we can. True soilders in the battle of life.

I'm not one of those people. I admire the Hell out of them and I wish they would help me figure it all out.

However until that day comes..I will talk about it and maybe get some good advice.

In return..I will share what I learned. One day if I have kids: I am going to tell them EVERYTHING. I am not going to be ashamed ..I'll tell it all (age appropriate of course). I am going to restart the tradition. I am going to sit in my rocking chair (I have to buy one) and crochet and have Little Love listen to my stories.

I hope those of you who have children will do the same.

We Still Wear The Mask

2006-12-06T14:22:00.000-08:00

I found this on www.hotghettomess.com's forum. (Thanks Iisha!). Definitely made me think. :|

We Still Wear The Mask By Dr.William Jelani Cobb

We could have known that it would come to this way back in 1896. That
was the year that Paul Lawrence Dunbar dropped a jewel for the ages,
telling the world that "we wear the mask that grins and lies." The
poet's point was that beneath the camouflage of subservient smiles,
black folks of the Jim Crow era were hiding a powder keg of other
emotions, waiting patiently for the chance to detonate. The thing is,
Dunbar never got the chance to spit bars with 50 Cent or throw in a
guest collabo on a Mobb Deep album. If he had, then he would've known
that grins and lies were only half the story.

These days, camouflage is the new black. Glance at hip hop for less
than a second and it becomes clear that the music operates on a single
hope: that if the world mistakes kindness for weakness it can also be
led to confuse meanness with strength. That principle explains why
there is a permanent reverence for the thug within the music; it is
why there is a murderer's grit and a jailhouse tat peering back at you
from the cover of damn near any CD you picked up in the last five
years. But what hip hop can't tell you, the secret that it would just
as soon take to its deathbed is that it this urban bravado is a guise,
a mask, a head-fake to shake the reality of fear and powerlessness in
America. Hip hop will never admit that our assorted thugs and gangstas
are not the unbowed symbol of resistance to marginalization, but the
most complacent and passive products of it.
We wear the mask that scowls and lies.

You could see which way the wind was blowing way in the early 90s when
Dr. Dre was being ripped off by white Ruthless Records CEO Jerry
Heller, and nonetheless got his street cred up by punching and kicking
Dee Barnes, a black woman journalist, down a flight of stairs. In this
light, hip hop's obsessive misogyny makes a whole lot more sense. It
is literally the logic of domestic violence. A man is abused by a
larger society, but there are consequences to striking back at the
source of his problems. So he transfers his anger to an acceptable
outlet – the women and children in his own household, and by
extension, all the black people who constitute his own community.
Nothing better illustrates that point than the recent Oprah Debacle.
Prior to last month, if you'd heard that a group of rappers had teamed
up to attack a billionaire media mogul you would think that hip hop
had finally produced a moment of collective pride on par with the
black power fists of the 1968 Olympics. But nay, just more blackface.
In the past two months, artists as diverse as Ludacris, 50 Cent and
Ice Cube have attacked Oprah Winfrey for her alleged disdain for hip
hop. It's is a sad but entirely predictable irony that the one
instance in which hip hop's reigning alpha males summon the testicular
fortitude to challenge someone more powerful and wealthy than they
are, they choose to go after a black woman.

The whole set up was an echo of some bad history. Two centuries ago,
professional boxing got its start in America with white slaveholders
who pitted their largest slaves against those from competing
plantations. Tom Molineaux. First black heavyweight champion came up
through the ranks breaking the bones of other slaves and making white
men rich. After he'd broken enough of them, he was given his freedom.
The underlying ethic was clear: an attack on the system that has made
a slave of you will cost you your life, but an attack on another black
person might just be the road to emancipation.

The basis for this latest bout of black-on-black pugilism was Oprah's
purported stiff-arming of Ludacris during an appearance on her show
with the cast of the film Crash. Ludacris later complained that the
host had made an issue of lyrics she saw as misogynistic. Cube jumped
into the act whining that Oprah has had all manner of racist flotsam
on her show but has never invited him to appear – proof, in his mind,
that she has an irrational contempt for hip hop. Then 50 threw in his
two cents with a claim that Oprah's criticism of hip hop was an
attempt to win points with her largely white, middle class audience.
All told, she was charged her with that most heinous of hip hop's
felonies: hateration.

But before we press charges, isn't 50 the same character who openly
expressed his love for GW Bush as a fellow "gangsta" and demanded that
the black community stop criticizing how he handled Hurricane Katrina?
Compare that to multiple millions that Oprah has disseminated to our
communities (including building homes for the Katrina families,
financing HIV prevention in South Africa and that $5 million she
dropped on Morehouse College alone) and the idea of an ex-crack dealer
challenging her commitment to black folk becomes even more surreal.
In spite of – or, actually, as a result of -- his impeccable gangsta
credentials, 50 basically curtsied before a President who stayed on
vacation for three days while black bodies floated down the New
Orleans streets. No wonder it took a middle-class preppie with an
African name and no criminal record to man-up and tell the whole world
that "George Bush don't care about black folks." No wonder David
Banner – a rapper who is just a few credits short of a Master's Degree
in social work -- spearheaded hip hop's Katrina relief concerts, not
any of his thug counterparts who are eternally shouting out the hoods
they allegedly love.

The 50 Cent, whose music is a panoramic vision on black-on-black
homicide, and who went after crosstown rival Ja Rule with the
vengeance of a dictator killing off a hated ethnic minority did
everything but tap dance when Reebok told him to dismantle his porn
production company or lose his lucrative sneaker endorsement deal.
But why single out 50? Hip hop at-large was conspicuously silent when
Bush press secretary Tony Snow (a rapper's alias if ever there was
one) assaulted hip hop in terms way more inflammatory than Oprah's
mild request:

"Take a look at the idiotic culture of hip-hop and whaddya have? You
have people glorifying failure. You have a bunch of gold-toothed hot
dogs become millionaires by running around and telling everybody else
that they oughtta be miserable failures and if they're really lucky
maybe they can get gunned down in a diner sometime, like Eminem's old
running mate."

(We're still awaiting an outraged response from the thug community for
that one.) Rush Limbaugh has blamed hip hop for everything short of
the Avian flu but I can't recall a single hip hop artist who has gone
after him lyrically, publicly or physically. Are we seeing a theme
yet?

It's worth noting that Ludacris did not devote as much energy to Bill
O'Reilly -- who attacked his music on his show regularly and caused
him to lose a multi-million dollar Pepsi endorsement – as he did to
criticizing Oprah who simply stated that she was tired of hip hop's
misogyny. Luda was content to diss O'Reilly on his next record and go
about his business. Anyone who heard the interview that Oprah gave on
Power 105.1 in New York knew she was speaking for a whole generation
of hip hop heads when she said that she loved the music, but she
wanted the artists to exercise some responsibility. But this response
is not really about Oprah, or ultimately about hip hop, either. It is
about black men once again choosing a black woman as the safest target
for their aggression and even one with a billion dollars is still fair
game.

Of all their claims, the charge that Oprah sold out to win points with
her white audience is the most tragically laughable. The truth is that
her audience's white middle-class kids exert waaay more influence over
50 and Cube than their parents do over Oprah. I long ago tired of
Cube, a thirty-something successful director, entrepreneur and married
father of three children making records about his aged recollections
of a thug's life. The gangsta theme went cliché eons ago, but Cube, 50
and a whole array of their musical peers lack either the freedom or
the vision to talk about any broader element of our lives. The reality
is that the major labels and their majority white fan base will not
accept anything else from them.
And there we have it again: more masks, more lies.

It is not coincidental that hip hop has made Ni@$a the most common
noun in popular music but you have almost never heard any certified
thug utter the word cracker, ofay, honky, peckerwood, wop, dago,
guinea, kike or any other white-oriented epithet. The reason for that
is simple: Massa ain't havin' it. The word fag, once a commonplace
derisive in the music has all but disappeared from hip hop's
vocabulary. (Yes, these thugs fear the backlash from white gays too.)
And bitch is still allowed with the common understanding that the term
is referring to black women. The point is this: debasement of black
communities is entirely acceptable – required even – by hip hop's
predominantly white consumer base.

We have lived enough history to know better by now – to know that
gangsta is Sonny Liston, the thug icon of his era, threatening to kill
Cassius Clay but completely impotent when it came to demanding that
his white handlers stop stealing his money. Gangsta is the black men
at the Parchman Farm prison in Mississippi who beat the civil rights
workers Fannie Lou Hamer and Annell Ponder into bloody unconsciousness
because their white wardens told them to. Gangsta is Michael Ervin,
NFL bad boy remaining conspicuously mute on Monday Night Football
while Limbaugh dissed Donovan McNabb as an Affirmative Action athlete.
Gangsta is Bigger Thomas with dilated pupils and every other
sweaty-palmed black boy who saw method acting and an attitude as his
ticket out of the ghetto.

Surely our ancestors' struggles were about more than creating
millionaires who could care less about us and then tolerating their
violent disrespect out of a hunger for black success stories. Surely
we are not so desperate for heroes that we uphold cardboard icons
because they throw good glare. There's more required than that. The
weight of history demands more than simply this. Surely we understand
that these men are acting out an age-old script. Taking the Tom
Molineaux route. Spitting in the wind and breaking black bones. Hoping
to become free.
Or, at least a well-paid slave.

How do I feel?

2006-12-03T15:55:00.000-08:00

I don’t know.

Happy to hear anything.
An email, a text message. Anything.

Angry and irritated at how easy it is for me
to be hurt. Pissed.

Anxiety and worry.
What should I do? Should I change?
Why?

Terrified. I don't want to hurt him.

Awkward. What do I say, how will it be received?

Lost in those deep brown eyes, too nervous and shy to stay there.
I hate that.

Curious, intrigued, in awe and impressed. He’s so smart.

Playful and excited because it’s fun. And scary.

How do I feel? Confused. What happens next?
I don't know.

But I like it.

It's raining in SF/Bay Area and I am traumatized!

2006-11-13T18:40:00.000-08:00

I left work early. It was my punishment to be cruelly and mercilessly attacked by the droplets of water falling from the sky that were occassionaly pushed into my face by hearty gusts of wind..

My cheap little Walgreens umbrella fought the good fight..but was spectacularly out-manuevered by the clever and much more experienced rain.

The weather man said occassional bursts of showers with sunshine in the afternoon. THEY LIED. THEY ARE ALL LIARS!!! Shower my derrier!..this was an onslaught. A full on war against designer ("I got 'em at Ross!") jeans and fashionable Reeboks! Thank the Almighty Jesus Christ that I didn't wear my strappy flats!

To add insult to injury I almost lost my life by some eager to get home driver who doesn't know what "No right turn on red" means. I was inches away from sure death! (Lexus..I want to thank you for installing anti-lock breaks on your vehicles. Thanks. A lot.)

I would also like to thank God for my Winter Weave. Without it, traumatized would not adequately describe my state of mind right now. Deep psychological depression might just cover it.

The Benefits of Poverty. :(

2006-10-27T20:57:00.000-07:00

I just told a friend of mine that learning can be sad and depressing. Here is why..

I am taking a sociology class. I have to read various essays and apply sociological theories to different subjects, one of those being poverty.

Functionalism is a theory that describes Society as being organized towards maintaining order. Society is held together by a set of social institutions (family, media, religion) each of which has a specific function in society to meet human need. One of those social insitutions would be poverty.

How does poverty function to meet human need? Well get comfortable and let me tell you!

One of the essays I have to read was written by Herbert J. Gans in 1971 called "The Uses of Poverty: The Poor Pay All." Gans argues against Functionalist ideas about how poverty actually has positive functions in regards to society. What are some of those positive functions?

Gans lists 13..but I will only sample 5.

1. Poverty ensures that society's "dirty work" will be done. The phsycally "dirty or dangerous, temporary, dead-end and underpaid, undignified and menial jobs". "Such occupations found in restaurants, hospitals, parts of the garment industry, and "truck farming" could not persist in their present form without the poor".

(Note: Bush signed the bill today to build a wall along the Mexican/US border to block Mexican immigrants the opportunity to do these very jobs. I wonder who is going to build the wall..)

2. Since the "poor are required to work at low wages, they subsidize a variety of economic activities that benefit the affluent." The maid does all the cleaning which frees up Mama Rich woman with enough time and energy to devote to "professional, cultural, civic and partying activities". Also, because the "poor pay a higher proportion of their income in property and sales taxes, among others, they subsidize many state and local government services that benefit more affluent groups." For example: state education. Everyone in the state of California pays for the UC and Cal State educational system. Unfortunately not all of us can get into these schools.

3. "The poor also serve as a direct cultural function when culture created by or for them is adopted by the affluent." "Almost all Americans listen to the blues, Negro spirituals, and country music, which originated among the Southern poor". Hip-hop wasn't popular when Gan's wrote this piece- but I think we can agree that Hip Hop has been 'adopted' as well, can we not?

4. "The poor help to gaurantee the status of those who are not poor". I don't think this needs an explanation.

5. Lastly and this is important because it is timely: "The Poor facilitate and stablize the American political process.. Since they can rarely support Republicans, they often provide the Democrats with a captive consituency that has no other place to go." The Democrats are garunteed the poor vote- so they don't have to cater to them or address their needs at all, and then they can focus on Middle Class America instead. Right now the Democrats are poised to take over the House and the Senate after the November elections. Make note of the 'promises' being made in order to get themselves elected. Who are those promises being made to? How many of those promises will be kept?

So, essentially, poverty has many positive functions that serve to benefit the affluent.

I am not exactly sure why I am posting this. "Misery loves company" maybe? I'm depressed so I want to force you, my one and only reader, to be depressed as well?

While, reading the essay I couldn't keep my educational distance. My feelings were hurt because largely this is true. I don't wanna work a Mc Donalds (#1)! If ever I feel sorry for myself I say..well at least I am not poor and then proceed to compare myself to those who are less well off (#4). I went to a UC and some poor person working at Mc Donalds (an employer I thumb my nose at) helped pay for it (#2)! Finally, I idealistically and naively felt that Democrats want to and will help us poor black folks (#5)! (I still feel that they are better than Republicans- I'm stubborn-sue me). OH yeah..I'm not exactly poor so scratch the "us" part.

So, in actuality, my feelings weren't hurt. I felt shame for the feelings and thoughts that I recognized in myself that were in agreement with these statements. Shame, because I grew up poor, so it's really ironic that I would have those feelings in the first place. I, also, felt a measure of empathy for those that are still struggling to rise out this social insitution. And sadness, not just because of the odds stacked against them but also because of the 'attitude' towards poverty that was described above. I can tell you that it was demoralizing for me to even sense a superior attitude from someone else in regards to my situation. I can only imagine what it must be like to live with that every day.

My friend responded to my depressing observation about learning by saying "No it's enlightening!" I didn't agree with him at the time..but now I do. I am enlightened to the fact that MY attitude needs adjusting. I do a fair amount of community service- but it's not enough. I need to 'remember' that I am pay check away from being poor and check myself before I develop an attitude of superiority...

Hopefully continued education will help in this endeavor and make my new chosen career path all the more meaningful.

Oh.. that's another positive function of poverty by the way: "Poverty creates jobs for a number of occupations and professions that serve or 'service' the poor.."

Dang..Damned if I do..damned if I don't!

It's Breast Cancer Awareness Month! Some info for you..

2006-10-16T14:49:00.000-07:00

Breast Cancer Awareness Information

What is Breast Cancer?

Like all parts of your body, the cells in your breasts usually grow and then rest in cycles controlled by the nucleus. The nucleus is like the control room of each cell. When your genes are in good working order, they keep cell growth under control. However, when your genes develop an abnormality, they sometimes lose their ability to control the cycle of cell growth and rest. Breast cancer is an uncontrolled growth of breast cells.
How Breast Cancer Happens. Breast Cancer.org: http://www.breastcancer.org/cmn_und_idx.html © 2006 breastcancer.org™

Risks:
Everyone is at risk for getting breast cancer, and the risk increases with age. With a life expectancy of 90 years, there is a 14 percent risk. Keep in mind on the flip side there is an 86% chance that you won’t be diagnosed.

Maintaining good health practices and being aware of prevention methods can reduce your risk further.

Tangible ways to reduce your risk? Refrain from smoking
Increase in exercise
Including more fruits and vegetables in
your diet
Lowering alcohol intake
Genetics
Inheritable breast cancer stems from an abnormality of the Breast Cancer gene BRCA1 and BRCA2, which regulates growth of breast cells. BRCA1 And BRCA2 abnormalities account for 10% of diagnosed breast cancer cases. Most women who have abnormal BRCA1 and 2 genes have family history of breast cancer or ovarian cancer. However, it is important to note that many women are diagnosed with Breast Cancer without BRCA1 and 2 abnormalities.

Environment
Deodorant/Antiperspirant: Recently researchers at the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center in Seattle conducted a scientific study on the possible link between breast cancer and deodorant or antiperspirant use. They studied more than 1,600 women and found no direct link to breast cancer and deodorant use.
Journal of the National Cancer Institute, October 16, 2002

Stress: There are many different conclusions as to whether stress is a factor increasing breast cancer risk. Dutch researchers recently did a meta-analysis (combining the results of a group of studies) to find links between stress and breast cancer. By looking at stress factors including death in the family, change in financial situation, loss of job and etc and found no link between having a stressful event and increased risk of developing breast cancer.
International Journal of Cancer, December 20, 2003S. Duijts et alhttp://www.breastcancer.org/research_stress.html

Statistics:

From American Cancer Society: http://www.cancer.org/docroot/stt/stt_0.asp

Cancer Facts and figures for 2006

Estimated Breast Cancer New Cases: Women: 212,920 Men: 1,720 Both: 214, 640

Estimated Deaths (rate per 100,000): Women: 40,970 Men: 460 Both: 41,430

Cancer Facts and Figures for African Americans 2005-2006

African Americans have the highest mortality rate of any racial or ethnic group for all cancers combined and for most major cancers.

Number of Deaths from Cancer 2001:

African American: 62, 166 Whites: 479, 647

Rates per 100,000 2000 US Population: African American: 243.8 Whites: 193.3

Incidents of Breast Cancer (per 100,000): African American 118.6 Whites: 143.2

Breast Cancer Death Rates (per 100,000): African Americans: 35.4 Whites: 26.4

Breast Cancer is the leading source of new cancer cases amongst African American women: 19,240 (29.9%) and is 2nd leading cause cancer deaths: 5,640 (18.4%). 30,140 African American Women died of cancer in 2001

For More Information Check Out:

Breast Cancer.Org: www.breastcancer.org
American Cancer Society: http://www.cancer.org
Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer: http://www.komen.org

Live in California??

Sister Study: http://www.sisterstudy.org
Imani’s Breast and Skin Care, Oakland, CA
African American Community Health Group of the Central Coast,
Santa Cruz, CA

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I am doing the Avon Breast Cancer Walk! Wanna Donate? Got to my Avon Breast Cancer Donation Site:

http://info.avonfoundation.org/site/TR?px=2434270&pg=personal&fr_id=1286&s_tafId=154280

Why I am walking for Breasts. :)

2006-10-16T14:48:00.000-07:00

On July 7th, I embarked on an adventure that I will never forget.

It began with me dragging a 40-pound bag stuffed with a blanket, travel pillow, two pairs of sneaks, jeans, sweats, flashlight, various drugs, toiletries and a sleeping bag from my apartment to the nearest Bart station. I headed towards San Francisco and stayed the night at the Renaissance Park Hotel. (Let me just add that the beds in that hotel are heavenly!) I then woke up at 4 am and boarded a bus to Golden Gate Park and ate a small banana and a container of juice upon arrival. Finally, I proceeded to make use of my skills as a cheerleader and encouraged 1900 women (and some men) who were about to start on a 39-mile walk for Breast Cancer.

That was just the beginning of my suffering- the real work came an hour later.

After the walkers began their journey, the 400 members of the Avon Breast Cancer Crew were bussed to the Wellness Village (or campsite) at Crissy Field underneath the Golden Gate Bridge. There, we proceeded to set-up tents, port-a-potties, medical supply stations, and information booths. We made breakfast/lunch/dinner, directed traffic and soothed annoyed local citizens and basically catered to the Breast Cancer Walker's every need.

Not only did I have to work, I worked under intolerable conditions! Although that particular weekend across the Bay Area was sunny and warm, under the bridge it was cold and windy. Practically every tent tried to fly away. My hair frizzed up from the fog and I swear my ankles were lunch for a variety small critters.

Why go through all of the trouble?

I had the opportunity to bond with some amazing women. I laughed. I cried. I shivered from the cold and treated some nasty blisters. It was wonderful.

I was also able to help save lives. Over 5.5 million dollars was raised that weekend and 5 Bay Area Breast Cancer research and support organizations each received checks for over a million dollars that Sunday.

One of the duties that I performed that weekend was passing out a pink ribbon at random to all of the women that said “Every 3 Minutes”. Every 3 minutes a woman gets the news that she has breast cancer. Every 3 minutes.

Any small contribution I make will bring us that much closer to finding a cure.

I signed up to walk 39 miles next year.

------------------

Wanna donate? Check out my Avon Breast Cancer Walk site:

http://info.avonfoundation.org/site/TR?px=2434270&pg=personal&fr_id=1286&s_tafId=154280

The song of my life.

2006-10-16T13:50:00.000-07:00

Music is a big part my life. If I don’t have something to listen to everyday, I just wouldn’t know what to do with myself. Apparently I can’t be alone with my own thoughts.

Often (at least once a month) I come across a song that just speaks to my soul. I’ll listen to it over and over until I can’t stand it any more. This week I have found one that I hope to keep with me forever. Have you ever had a song like that? One that not only reaches you but it is about you? A five minute song that sums up your life in totality? I sat listening to the 'song of my life' on the BART this morning, silently singing with tears in my eyes. That weirdo that you see every so often when you dare to take public transportation..yep. That was me.

Do you ever wake up in the morning look in the mirror and just cringe? Most of us have a healthy self-esteem but it is challenged everyday by society’s standards of what is beautiful. Every morning without fail, I focus on some flaw that I am sure everyone is staring at. I forget that God made me and He makes no mistakes. My true and natural beauty is the wonderful spirit within me and when that is reflected on my face, it is always recognized and admired. It wipes away all the insecurities which leaves me carefree and full of joy. I can only imagine what my life would be like if I remembered that instead of trying to cover the small zit on my forehead each morning.

Imagine me
Loving what I see when the mirror looks at me cuz I
I imagine me
In a place of no insecurities
And I’m finally happy cuz
I imagine me

To forgive and forget is easier said than done. How often do I go over and over in my mind the hurt and pain that someone has caused me? It is worse when the perpetrators are people who are close to me- who supposedly love me and have my best interests at heart. Remembering that kind pain protects one from being hurt again but it also constrains you and keeps you from moving forward. Why risk your heart to someone who will just hurt you? Because the resulting loneliness is too much to bear. It’s hard to realize that as God’s children we are never truly alone. His love surrounds us from when we wake up in the morning until we close our eyes at night. It’s unconditional and ever lasting and when you finally learn to trust and accept it, it frees you from the hurt and pain of the past. Can you imagine leaving all the pain and hurt behind?

Letting go of all of the ones who hurt me
Cuz they never did deserve me
Can you imagine me
Saying no to thoughts that try to control me
Remembering all you told me
Lord can you imagine me
Over what ma mama said
And healed from what my daddy did
And I wanna live and not read that page again

As a young person trying to survive on my own, the world can be brutal and often I’m afraid. Bills, health, relationships, family and crime- it’s scary out there! What if I can’t do it right? What if I make a mistake? How do I fight against those that stand in my way? And WHY does it seem like everyone else has it all together and I am the only one who is struggling?

Being strong
And not letting people break me down
You won't get that joy this time around can you imagine me
In a world where nobody has to live afraid
Because of your love fear has gone away
Can you imagine me?

Having faith and putting my life in God’s hands will make life so much easier. I’d like to say that I am that place of being totally free and without fear. Nope, I’m not there yet. I often found that as I work my way around one stumbling block another one drops into my path. Yet everyday, the road to life is clearer as my relationship with God gets stronger.

Imagine me, being free, trusting you totally finally I can...
Imagine me
I admit it was hard to see
You being in love with someone like me
But finally I can...Imagine me

It is songs like “Imagine Me”; from Kirk Franklin that gives me hope and encouragement. Kirk Franklin often get's criticized for being unconventional. I praise him for being able to write songs that speaks into my life. I only wish that I had that same gift. (Don't worry I am working on it. ;) )

If you haven’t heard "Imagine Me" yet, here is my endorsement. Buy it- don’t “borrow” it. Find a space where it’s just you and the song. Think about how it relates to you. I bet you $100 that it will be the 'song of your life' too.

(Make your checks payable to Tonya D. Love- respond to this post and I will send you the address) :D

Mc Donald's is our only recourse!

2006-10-08T23:00:00.000-07:00

Vegetables are dangerous!

First spinach tainted with e.coli!

Then carrotts!

Now I am watching the news and another company is recalling lettuce!

Is this a message, Lord?

Should we give up on veges and start pigging out?

I haven't had a decent burger in ages..

Quarter pounder with cheese... I'm Lovin' it! ;)

Save the insects! (an update)

2006-10-06T07:38:00.001-07:00

Last year I made an ode to critters. It goes like this..

---

I like insects.

They are fascinating to look at while they contemplate their lives and livelyhood. The danger and the risk that they take just by sharing the world with us instrusive humans is amazing!

I live in an apartment surrounded by tall trees, bushes and flowers. At night during the rainy season, as I head to my front door, I get a special treat watching the snails crawl across the sidewalk. It's fascinating how they put their lives on the line in order to save themselves from drowning.

And during the summer..my apartment becomes home to many a lady bug trying to cool themselves from the dangerous sun. Yet, in a couple of days the die because I don't have water lying around my home ready for them to drink.

It freaks me out to see ladybugs in my home (or any other insect trying to secure shelter) and I immediately take steps to rid myself of these pests. Yet, at the same time, I can't help but feel sorry for them. All they are trying to do is LIVE!

I just don't want my home overrun with wildlife. The idea of some insect crawling around my bedroom gives me the willies...

But I always have this lovely little haiku in mind as I am getting ready to sacrifice another life for my comfort..

Kobayashi Issa
(1763-1827)

Oh, don't strike the fly!
See? With knees bent and hands clasped
he prays for his life.

Alas..survival of the fittest my friend. And since I am fitter than you are..you must go. But as I smash you into oblivion take comfort in the fact that you have made an indelible impression on my heart. God Bless, my less fortunate friend!

--------------

I'd just like to add..I hate spiders. I saw one making the trek across my queen size bed when I was just about the leave for work. It stopped in the middle to rest, exhausted from the journey it had made so far. I decided to spare its life. I know I hate to be bothered when I am tired.

However, prepare for torture tonight, little spider. I heard conditions in the washing machine can be quite brutal. :(

hanging on His Word: another poem

2006-10-05T16:37:00.000-07:00

hanging on His Word: another poem

2006-10-03T13:36:00.000-07:00

Temporary M&M insanity.

There is something about M&M's that are so satisfying.

So addicting.

You eat one and the chocolate just bursts forth into your mouth like a huge surprise. You try to savour the moment, but it melts away and pure bliss pours down your throat and warms your heart and soul.

Then, you can't help yourself. You try to hold yourself back by eating them slowly. One at a time. Maybe organization will help? Okay..just the red ones. One at at time. Okay, maybe, two since there are only two red M&M's in the pile. Then you eat the green ones..but then there are four of those. Why not eat all four? Just stuff them into your mouth!

Then you have this huge avalanche of chocolate. The ecstasy can't be described!

Uh oh--there's a piece of candy shell stuck in your teeth!

Slow down..slow down..

But you can't! You just keep adding more ..and more..until there is only 1 brown one left.

OH the disHUMANITY! You stare at that last one in disbelief. Did I just eat a whole pack of M&M's in ..10 minutes?? Okay, I will stretch the last one.

tick..tock..tick..tock. The M&M seems to be staring right back at you.. 1 minute. .... 2 minutes.. Three minutes. Is it possible to smell chocolate that's covered in a candy shell? I swear there must be chocolate in my nose!

tick..tock..tick..tock. ALRIGHT.. DAMN IT! I'll eat you..and you're gonna be good!!

One pop..and it's gone. No more left.

...hmm does anyone have a dollar so I can buy some more??

2006-10-02T23:12:00.000-07:00

For my friend Iisha :)

What do I eat?

Chocolate. Oh so sweet..a tasty treat.
Is too much sugar okay? Will it be good for Baby J?

..next

Chicken. Real juicy and finger lickin..
Fried or baked, it'll look good on my plate!

Do I feel like cooking it though?
Heeeccckk No..

..next!

Mac N cheese, if you please.
Rich and gooey..and not too chewy.

Nothin water's my mouth like food from the south!
But If I eat too fast..will it give Baby J gas?

Never mind..

Oh, what shall I do? Eat left overs or something new?
A smorgasboard or a little snack? Mc E-Dees or Jack N da Crack?

I'm at a loss, but something should be done..
I know! I'll call Clifton!

LOL..