BJAP's Blurty

Subject:	Interracial Dating: I Just HAD To Say Something About It
Time:	11:17 am.
Music:	K-Ci and JoJo .

I said that I wouldn't enter into this topic on my blog, and I do not intend for it to be a common theme of what is discussed on here. However, I am compelled to speak because hate and fury hath (yes I said hath) been unleashed. And the unfortunate scapegoats are black men.
As a black woman who is going to marry a white Jewish man next year, many people in the black community would say I have no place to talk about black love or certain "black" dating issues. Whatever the case, I grew up around quintessential stories of black love so I have a thing or two to share.
The interracial blogs started out in blogosphere, in the beginning seemed to have the common goal of uplifting black women and sharing with them that they have other dating options out there besides black men. This is a fair message to spread, and I have encouraged my black girlfriends to date who they want to date. The bottom line is the pool of men in general is shallow and the pool of GOOD men is even more shallow. It's not a take what you can get attitude necessarily, but take who you can love and who will love you in return. To me it's pretty simple. Not a bad message at all.
Of course, there are people of all races who think that staying with your own kind is the only way to go. While I do not agree with this argument, I can see where they are coming from. It's a legitimate idea, but it may not work for everyone in their personal life. With that said, there are two sides (or more) to every subject matter and everyone should have an equal opportunity to state their opinions.
Lately, these IR blogs, as they are called, have been focusing on poking at black women for dating DBR (damanged beyond repair) black men, having their illegitimate children and being left to care for them and working so many jobs to do so without the help of the father(s). While I have seen this happen to relatives with my own eyes. I have also seen the flip side of responsible black men who take care of their wives and children because that is what they were taught to and lived up to those expectations. There are also stories about men on the down low, passing HIV/AIDS along to black women. This is a highly controversial discussion, but I always suggest to folks to visit the CDC website that talks about HIV/AIDS in the black community and see for yourself. I'm not saying it's the only culprit of AIDS in black women, but it has contributed to it. What's more, is that black men have been accused of dating outside of their race whenever they get money. This is true, sometimes. But not a lot of the time. There is also the issue of a lot of black men being in prison for various reasons (drugs, murder, robbery, etc) and therefore unavailable to many single black women.
I'm saying all of this to list the many issues that black women are in fact facing with black men, and so they are frustrated, angry, tired and all of those other things that go along with being dissatisfied with the pool of men that are available to them.
But in defense of black men, there are a lot of good ones out there. However, I have noticed, they have girlfriends or they are married! This was definitely the case when I was still out there dating. They're out there, though. Maybe these women just need to keep their eyes open, if a black man is what they are truly looking for.

So I've been jumping around the obvious issue that I'm trying to discuss here. The women in these blogs have started to become angrier and I guess it's because of what they have experienced with black men in the past. Of course, their solution to the problem? Find a white man. Really? Yes, really. Some will create stories about women who are struggling in life and love. Guess who comes to save the day? A white guy. Now, I am definitely not one to speak against white men. There are good white men out there. There are some terrible ones too. I happen to have dated a couple of them. But needless to say they are not the ones to come and rescue black women from their financial and personal woes. The problem I have with all of that is the whole idea that we need someone to come to our rescue in the first place. What I notice is that the root of these IR sites are women who seem to be damaged, themselves, by failed relationships and maybe even a dismal upbringing. But black women have to learn to uplift themselves and do that by supporting each other. We, unfortunately, are not very good at doing that for each other.
I'm not blaming black women for their dating/marriage woes. I AM saying, though, to examine yourself. It's not always the other person's fault.
I had to do that. I always blamed the men for my failed relationships. Many of them were not perfect people and did not treat me well. But why did I choose them in the first place? It took some time for me to step back from the situation, examine myself and realize that I needed to renew my self esteem since it had been beaten up so badly by various people and experiences. I worked on myself and my confidence. And now? I found the man of my dreams. Who cares who is or where he comes from? A confident woman can work wonders in the life of the right man.

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Subject:	What Happened to USATF?
Time:	8:42 am.
Music:	Can't get that "Shake It" song out of my head. Go away!!.

I remember when I was growing up, running track in middle school and doing book reports on Florence Griffith Joyner and dressing the part in my Track Houston uniform and spikes. In those days I looked up to track runners, especially the women. They were fast, in top physical condition, and in FloJo's case, beautiful. For the longest time I wanted to embody all of those things: an Olympian, famous, and fast. After middle school, I entered the world of high school track where ALL of the girls were fast, even in Junior Varsity. My dreams of being one of the fastest in the school district were diminished as I pushed aside summer track. The goal of being an Olympian gave way to my thriving academic record, though my love of the sport never diminshed.
Each indoor track meet and world championship that was televised, I was right in front of it. Now when the NCAA meets are on in the summer, I catch those as well.
The USA has always been a formidable opponent on the track because most of the men and women run year round, and started doing it as little children. They started on in the fall/winter running cross country. And then in the spring of the year started training for track season. In the summer, the junior USATF leagues travelled around to different tracks for competitions every Saturday with practices daily during the week.
So what happened to USATF? With all of the talent that is available and being bred on a daily basis, how could they not win the gold medal in many of the events?
My guess: Too much confidence and not enough team work.
Track is, in essence, an individual sport. But at it's core, track is also a team sport, hence the phrase "track team." The track team cohesiveness is often tried during relays when four people of different running styles come together to combine their speed and the passing of a baton. They show their sportsmanship and athleticism all at the same time. During the Men and Women's 4x100m relay, the US lost. They lost because their team was not cohesive. Though the track was wet in Beijing, and presented a challenge, the US is supposed to be able to overcome those things. If you can run bleachers in the lung chilling cold, you can pass a baton on a wet track. With the men, Tyson Gay seemed to be too eager to get the baton in his hand and once it wasn't in there he started searching for it, as many track coaches will tell you not to do. Move your hand out and leave it there. Wait to close your hand until you are SURE you've got the baton in the palm. Plain and simple, Track 101. Tyson lost it and so did the rest of the men's team.
The women. They are another story. Lauryn (or is it Lauren?) Williams lost it again. First of all, the girl has the worst running form that I've seen. I sometimes think it was a stroke of luck that gave her the gold medal in the 2004 Olympics. She hunches over and her arms look like they're tucked in too tight to her body. She's a stiff runner. And so, when Torri Edwards handed off to Lauren on the last leg, she did the wrong thing: Swung her arm out with her palm up to the sky, not out to the side as it should be. Her form was all wrong, her anticipation off. The announcers tried to blame it on Torri Edwards for running up on Williams. It's because her arm wasn't high enough and she needed to reach it.
And poor Lolo Jones. I think cockiness got the best of her. Though she can run and I'm a true fan of her flawless (most of the time) clearing of the hurdles, she lost it because she was TOO confident. Granted Usain Bolt could have tripped over his shoe laces and stumbled over his long legs. He is very cocky. But he's not a hurdler, and I don't see any baton dropping on his future, because I have this strong sense that he's a team player. But being on a team is not the issue for Lolo, she allowed her previous wins get to her head and convince her that this was her race. On any given day, YOUR race may not be your race. And it wasn't hers.

So after this Olympics the folks on the USA Track Team, along with the coaches, need to come together and think. What did we do wrong and how do we fix this? They've got another four years to figure it out. I want the USA team of 1996 back. The one with Michael Johnson and Carl Lewis. With Gail Devers and Jackee Joyner Kersey. I want the old school back. The USA Team may just need to go back to the basics.
Need I forget to mention that doping has totally tainted them? It's time for rejuvenation from them all.
Maybe in 2012.

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Subject:	So This Is What Engagement Is All About?
Time:	1:13 pm.
Music:	When Did Your Heart Go Missing? ~Rooney.

When JB and I first became engaged I was so excited about starting a life with him. But recently, things have not been so dreamy. We have had issues upon issues and arguments upon arguments. A lot of this stemming from the fact that I started to have doubts about whether or not I was ready to get married and give up the life that I've been building for the last five years to escape to a smaller country town with not much going on in it. I hate complaining. Believe me when I say that. But it is truly challenging with JB because the two of us were having a difficult time seeing eye to eye. While I do not wish to live in his town, and I've been vocal about it, he contends that since he owns property there, it is important that we stay until the housing market gets better. While I agree with this, it does not make the situation better. Furthermore, JB lacks the self confidence about me and our relationship that I wish he did. He constantly asks me if I still love him or whether or not I still want to get married. These questions are not appealing to answer every two days. Seriously.
My sex drive, when I'm around him, has dropped tremendously to the point that I prefer going to sleep when we're around each other then doing the deed. It has not appeal. I can go back to the whole thing with his parents and say it has a little something to do with that, but it really doesn't beyond the fact that I can see him turning into his father: a 52 year old child.
As I was at work today, and nursing the bruises from our latest fight yesterday, I realized that I've had enough. Today I told JB that although I love him, I'm tired of the fighting and wasn't sure how much else I could deal with. Really. I have been in too many dysfunctional relationships and I will suffer in a dysfunctional marriage. There are too many women in my family who have had to deal with that in their lives. It truly is unfair to watch other people live unahppy lives. And I definitely do not want to be the person that others have pity on.
When it comes down to it, Joe is a regular guy. He watches NASCAR and love pro football. While I understand that most men are not planners, he has no level of creativity beyond participating in outdoor activities. It's truly a challenge to get him to have a meaningful workout with me (as I watch is stomach grow in size) and he's not one to think outside of the box for weekend activities. Our relationship has grown boring, to say the least.
Before Joe I always balanced between nights in on the couch with my friend Blockbuster and nights out in DC with my friends. Sometimes, a little shaking up is nice, and I don't want to be the only creative person in the relationship.
But beyond faulting JB, I had a stark revelation this morning. It wasn't the challenge of being engaged and getting married that bothered me so much as leaving my life behind. For the past 6 years I have lived in the DC area, struggling, living life and losing love, learning how to love myself and live alone, building close friendships and finding myself spirtually as well as excelling academically and within my career. All of that, I did on my own, with the distant support of my parents and sisters and close friends in the area. No previous boyfriend or male companion played a role in my serious growth besides teaching me lessons about what type of guy to stay away from. After the many tearful nights, hair falling out, weight fluctuations, and other physical and emotional transitions, I finally feel like I'm living life as the real me. And as soon as that self actualization comes about, I'm engaged to be married. It's almost as if, I get to experience being my own person for a very short time. But I get to live my life married, as a mom and all of those other things for the rest of my life.
I don't want to look back at getting married and feel regret or remorse for the things that I should have or could have done before JB. He truly is my dream guy, ever since we first met at the synagogue last year. There is no way that I will give him up. But JB just does not, at all, understand the world that I have lived in since moving up here. It has been harsh and loving all at the same time. And to leave that place I've come to embrace and accept, is no easy task.
As I look at the picture on my desk of the two of us, we're both smiling. It's from our first date at my company holiday party. We spent all evening together, getting lost on the way to the party, watching my co-workers dance once we arrived and watching a movie on my couch at home. We were smitten from day one. We were what each other had wanted for such a long time. It's sad to think we could be on the verge of losing it all because we can't get along.
What I want to see happen is that JB and I come together and understand our differences. I truly don't think that has happened. And while we may be constantly on a learning curve, that's OK. At least we're trying to learn about each other. Everyday you learn something new, and with JB, I hope that he is the one person I learn something new with everyday for the rest of my life.

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Subject:	A Mild Heart Attack
Time:	10:35 am.
Music:	Old School Electronica/Dance.

To add to the mountain of complication that is occuring in my life, I found out last Saturday that my mom suffered from a "minor" heart attack (as if there really is a such thing). At first it started out when JB and I were shopping around for items for his birthday party that afternoon. He wanted to call my mom and thank her for his birthday gift. I called the house at first, but no one answered. Then I called her cell and my dad picked up. He explained about how this morning she had chest pains and asked him to take her to the emergency room. Apparently this is not the first time that this has happened to my mom.
Due to her age (she just turned 59), they said she would be kept in the hospital overnight for observation, but expected to get out before Monday. Then, the news came later on Saturday night that she had suffered from a heart attack and would remain hospitalized, at the lastest, until Tuesday. This was scary. And as I got the news I cried and JB held me. I have NO idea what I would do without my mother...
In the meantime, we carried on the day as normal. My mom wanted me to call my older sister to tell her what was going on. Right now, things are a bit frantic. But not as much as on Saturday.
When speaking with my mom yesterday to check on her, she seemed to be back to her normal self. She promptly got off the phone with me when she noticed the IV dripping on her silk pajamas my dad brought from the house. Before that, though, we talked about how heart problems are hereditary in her family. One of her brothers went under the knife for heart surgery a few years ago. It prompted him to stop drinking and smoking. He's lost weight and looks healthier than ever. Both of her parents passed away because of a heart attack. Her mother was 87 when she passed but her father was only in his 40s or so (he was an alcoholic and chronic smoker). Through that discussion it made me realize, even more, the importance of taking care of my body by working out and eating right. This doesn't necessarily preclude me from any hereditary functions taking over in the future, but at least I can start now.

I would combine news of JB's birthday in this entry among other things, but I think I will wait and talk about it later.

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Subject:	A (Potential) Case of Sibling Rivalry
Time:	8:01 am.

My older sister "M" has always basked in being the center of attention, ever since she was born. She is the first born of the family and is 11 and 13 years older than myself and my little sister, respectively. Before we came along it was just her and my parents and the spotlight was always something she craved. And she got it. This lasted throughout my years of middle school and high school when my parents had to break it to my younger sister "E" and I that there was going to be a limited amount of money that could be spent on back to school clothes that year. The reason? They had given "M" thousands of dollars for some thing or another. I spent several years between middle school and high school resenting "M's" presence in the house in her mid 20's. I always asked her why she couldn't move out and find her own place. To this day "M" accuses my parents of not being supportive. Though I can remember the several weekends in elementary school while we still lived in Louisiana, traveling to Texas for Orchestra concerts and later on once we finally moved to Texas, seeing her Operas on campus (M started out as a violin major in college and then changed to voice).
Now that JB and I are engaged, "M" seems to feel some sort of rush to find someone to bring into her life and get married to. She has always been a money hungry diva who feels that men should be able to spend a lot of money on her without any questions asked, whether they are dinners out or trips to the spa. I remember earlier this year when JB started talking about marriage and concurrently "M" met this new guy who she thought could be the one (she always feels this way for some odd reason about someone). She said that if things go well, they would get married next year. I was pissed because JB and I were talking about getting married next year as well. She told me that two weddings in one year is no problem, though I told her I have no interest in competing for attention. No interest whatsoever. The guy in question has come and gone. Now, "M" has since moved on to someone else and she is proclaiming that he is the one. They are already talking about moving in together and getting married next April. While her beau would like a large wedding, she wants something (in her words) "small and fierce." Though she tells me there would be no competition between us for attention, she is definitely looking to get married before me. I know it bothers her that her 23 year old sister (I'll be 24 when I get married) is engaged before she is at the age of 35. What kind of sense does that make for her? Furthermore, she found out that JB likes one of the same names she likes for a boy. And she's competing for that name as well, especially since she stated that her beau wants to start having children right away (he's 52 years old, so the time is ticking on his soon to be senior citizen ass).
What gives? Am I being petty? Quite possibly. But it goes without saying that since she is the older sister, she feels entitled to being the first for everything and also being in the spotlight just to make sure that no one forgets, it's all about her.

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Subject:	My Future In Laws
Time:	11:00 am.

Recently I have been thinking about the issue of what life will be like once JB and I are married. This is specifically with regards to his parents that happen to live in the same town as he does and work with him every day of the week. Since JB is an only child, his mother in particular is very attached to him. And while I get along with both of JB's parents quite well, I am concerned about their level of closeness once I move in with him and we're married. Furthermore, the overall style of his parents is not quite embarassing, but let me be honest here: I raised by Uppity Negroes. Yes, my mom and dad. They dress to the nines when we go places and both refuse to wear a pair of blue jeans outside of the house (though my dad has been known to slip into some questionable clothing even to go to the grocery store). I find JB's mother's clothing to be apalling at times and in need of rejuvenation. But she's a self proclaimed tom boy and that is fine. His father, who is truly a well meaning man, is way out of shape. I can clearly see JB following his path in the future. Big stomach, soft body, seemingly lethargic unless working in the field on their 14 acres of land.
Nonetheless, I like these people. They simply aren't like me.
Back to the closeness with JB, though. His mother calls him all of the time when she knows we're together. To check up on him, that is. Granted, I can understand being the only child and your parents are constantly guarding against making sure their demise doesn't not come before theirs. I can totally understand this. But still. JB and I are often confined to weekend visit, that have just now extended through the entire weekend with his Saturday's off. By no means am I interested in this being tainted by a random phone call from his mother "just checking in."
My parents call me, but they are over 2000 miles and many states away. They only get to see me 2 times a year...maybe 3 if we're lucky.
When we reject dinner invitations out for our own quiet time, JB's father gets his feelings hurt. His parents, I must say, do not make the greatest of efforts to get together with us beyond the, sometimes, infringing moments when JB and I have already planned something. Two examples of this: One weekend, the Indy Car series was racing at a track about an hour away. We both planned to go to the race together as I was being exposed to my first car race ever. For some reason JB mentioned to his father that we were going to go, and he asked, well can I come with you? Excuse me? Well, JB being the people pleaser that he is could not tell his father no. Instead he said something along the lines of..."Well we were planning to go by ourselves." Naturallly his dad's feelings got hurt. So, JB asked his mom if she would come along as well. Before the race began, JB and his mother went to hunt for food while his father and I sat in the stands. He said that it would be a chance for us to get to know one another better. Of course, my two questions to him about racing ended up into a discourse about the race track and how big racing is becoming, etc. Great. I know that about him...but didn't you want a chance to get to know me? Perhaps it's the way that I communicate. You learn about people by how they are able to converse.
The next example is during one Shabbat a few weeks ago, the rabbi announced in front of the congregation that JB and I were engaged. His parents came to that service, but missed the announcement and the following excitement of all in attendance. JB and I had planned to "celebrate" our engagement by going to dinner and enjoying the weekend together. His dad wanted to go out to dinner, and though JB ran it by me and asked if that would be cool I left the decision up to him. His father was "pissed." Later, JB's mother made mention of this to him. I'm not too clear on how he explained it but he did not feel obligated because they came to one Shabbat service. They never come, besides for High Holy Days. And before JB and I started dating, he barely came either.
Needless to say, there are many moments when I long for my parents and wished they lived close by. I often long for their vast knowledge of things outside of livestock and car racing. But regardless, JB's parents are really good people, and I have the greatest respect for them. However, I am concerned that I will bite my tongue in certain situations because they are very close to their son, and their lives (at least a big part of it) revolves around him. I have made a request with JB that we discuss boundaries. Living in the same town, 10 minutes away from the in laws can be daunting if you allow it to become that way. I also know that it will be an asset to. So we may as well erase the fine line and create an exchange that is conducive to building a positive relationship. Whenever I suggest having dinner with his parents or something to that extent, though, JB often rejects the idea. It's not that he comes out and says no when I ask about it, but his body language and reluctance to state something along the lines of, "I think that would be great!" makes me think he could be the problem by wanting to keep me all to himself.

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Subject:	Another Ditty About Friendship
Time:	12:39 pm.
Music:	Oldies.

Shabbat Shalom.
Today is a Shabbat of reflection and of friendship. Lately I have focused a lot on my relationship with JB, and sometimes it means that considering and nurturing friendships takes a backseat. While this should not be the case, it does happen, I must admit. Though, I still make phone calls, more often than many of my friends will call me, but our schedules are often never in sync at a time when it's most convenient to make those dinner plans solid or shopping date a go. It's tough, but nevertheless you try, because having good friends help mold us into the people we currently are and will continue to be.
This particular entry is about a friend whom I'll call Mrs. L. In the process of my, sometimes complicated, journey to Judaism, I met Mrs. L. It was at the height of my intrigue of the interracial bloggers who consistently encourage black women to date other than black men. Some of it toes the line of white men as our personal saviours. But I read anyway, because sometimes there are gems in between the lines. Nevertheless, on one of the blogs, I noticed Mrs. L had sent her picture, with her husband in to this lady who ran the blog. She shared her story on there and I was intrigued. I emailed Mrs. L and told her about my conversion to Judaism and how meeting someone who understood that choice and truly embraced it was very difficult for me to find. Upon her response, Mrs. L revealed that she herself had converted to Judaism, and that her husband was Israeli. They are both quite secular compared to my level of observance. This is besides the point, however.
Mrs. L, in the meantime, was setting up a group where black women could meet "other" men. Before this event, though, she and I decided to meet up and get to know each other given our commonality of being two Black women who were Jewish (well my conversion ceremony was only a month after that meeting). We clicked automatically, or so it seemed. We had so much in common: our views of the world, we both drive Jettas (2003), our love of politics and cultural events. I hit the jackpot. Finally, someone who can understand what I'm going through. Mrs. L shared stories about the path to her conversion as well. I felt at home.
After the initial event that she hosted for all of those folks to meet up, I never went to another one. For some reason the caliber of people there were not matching me. Out of all irony, at the time I was on JDate and it just so happened that one of the guys on there who tried to contact me in the past (unsuccessfully because I was not interested) was there. Thank goodness we never went out...that's what I thought when seeing him in person.
But I digress.
A couple of weeks before my conversion ceremony, Mrs. L invited me to her house for a "Girls' Night In." It was a throwback high school slumber party where all of the girls stuffed ourselves with lots of food, alcohol and Madonna. I guess I felt totally comfortable around her friends, because I got totally drunk, threw up and passed out in Mrs. L's bed. Before that all happened, though, I got to explain why I was converting to Judaism to her other friends (she had told them about me before I arrived) and discuss how to make Kosher pie crust that isn't infused with the ever so present Lard. Mrs. L showed me the ketubah that she and her husband signed on their wedding day. It was beautiful. That tradition of committment to another person, itself, made me even more excited to convert to Judaism. As Mrs. L and I were gathered around the ketubah, and talking about it, she asked me about my conversion ceremony and covertly asked me if she and Mr. L could come. OF COURSE! It would be so wonderful. And they came.
I welcomed Mrs. L and Mr. L into one of the most intimate moments of my life. At my coversion ceremony I stood at the bimah in front of the Torah where the Rabbi blessed me and asked me to talk about my story and why I chose the Hebrew names I did (Tzipporah Rachel). As I stood there, I could barely get the words out as my body was heaving and I was crying. The people present were the ones who cared most about that moment in my life. And so I was happy that Mrs. L was among them, because we could share something that none of the others in the room could.
As I quickly forget to mention, Mrs. L and her husband kindly took me out to dinner on my birthday last year, celebrating another potentially lonely evening with people that I was excited to get to know.
After these moments, my contact with Mrs. L was few and far between. They had a Hanukkah party that I was unable to attend due to an end of semester presentation I had in class. That day it had snowed, but I still was in school. I simply went home and lit the candles in my menorah.
In reciprocating gestures, I have frequently invited Mr and Mrs. L to my home for dinner. Each time, Mrs. L has never gotten back to me, as Mr. L salivates about the idea of me preparing a blackberry cobbler. I came to realize that Mrs. L thrived on people gravitating toward her and keeping her company in her territory. Not necessarily the other way around though. A couple of times she has called to invite me out places, but I didn't have enough time. There was a cancelled dinner invitation that JB and I extended to them, but Mrs. L's grandmother became ill and at the last minute they left town for a few days. With promises of calling me back upon her return, I never heard from her. I sent facebook messages and made a couple of phone calls, but no success. Then one night, recently, I got a text message from Mrs. L saying how she missed me and wanted to talk to me soon. We always talked about going to happy hour since I work in the city and she lives here. This never happened. Our schedules were never in sync.
I responded to the text message and told her that I missed her too. This was true. I missed the possibility of our friendship, but since we didn't communicate very often, it was difficult for it to develop past anything superficial.
When JB proposed, I called her and told her the news. This was three weeks ago. I haven't received a call back. She has met JB. Once we went to their house for brunch. When JB snuck off for a bathroom break, both she and Mr. L remarked about how much they liked him. JB likes them alot too.
So late last night, after I had fallen asleep, I received an Evite from Mr. L. It was in my work email when I got to the office. Mrs. L is leaving the country for four months as of Sunday night and they are throwing her a going away party. I was torn, because today my bags are packed and ready to go in the car to visit JB this weekend. We were going to watch movies, eat our favorite pizza and drink wine. So I called JB to figure it out. Yes, sometimes I call him to see how I should decide a situation. But we all do it at some point.
JB felt that I should make the decision. I, ready to throw away the friendship, felt it was better to just go to his house and enjoy our evening alone. My friendship with Mrs. L is one without reciprocity; and I refuse to keep trying only to feel like an idiot in the end. But as I explained to JB why I wanted this friendship to work (she and I have that very important thing of being Black, Jewish and Female in common), he strongly suggested we go.
So we're attending the going away party tonight. I'm unsure what to expect, but I hope that at least my presence will prompt some sort of friendly rejuvenation before she leaves.

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Subject:	On Being Bi-Racial
Time:	1:54 pm.

Since Obama is in the limelight, and the CNN Black in America special has been aired, there has been a lot of discussion surrounding what it means to be bi-racial. Much of the focus is around those who are bi-racial with one white parent and one black parent. This term expands to other people of varied racial mixtures that are not necessarily white-black. But, it seems that white-black is the most common.
I have a great deal of interest in this issue because one day, I will be raising bi-racial children with my future husband JB. My current, and greatest concern is raising my children in the country town that JB resides in. When I finish school in May, I'm planning on moving there. It'll only be a few months before our wedding in late August or early September (we haven't chosen a date yet). Nevertheless, the town, in my opinion, is indicative of everything that I was happy to get away from when we left Shreverport months before my 9th birthday. While I knew I would miss my friends, I remembered being called the N-word by children, and having little white boys harrass me because they could. When we moved to Texas, though you could tell some people simply tolerated the presence of black folks, the think was much more evolved.
The town JB lives in has a population of about 13,000. It's the county seat. There is a hospital and a few grocery stores, along with your standard stores of Target and Wal-Mart. Chain restaurants such as Ruby Tuesday and Chili's grace the main strip of town. The only major shopping places are the Southeast and Mid-Atlantic US department store Belk and the abomination called Kohl's. Aside from the material stuff, there are a couple of fine dining places, a little history, and barely a decent library. I ask JB if he thinks there will be a mall ever to grace the town and he says no.
But most importantly, I am concerned about raising my children there. There are a handful of Jews, and not many evolved people of color I have seen. It seems to be a haven for low-skilled labor and a lot of uneducated people who are sometimes pleasant and sometimes not. The schools, JB says, are OK. I remember getting a good education in Shreveport while we lived there only because my mom and dad insisted my sisters and me attend magnet schools. There are no magnet schools in this town, no montessori, no Jewish day schools. While I do not abhor the public school system, as I'm a product of it, I am concerned about sending my children to public school there. Furthermore, my parents express concern about me having black friends in that town. Truth be told, it's difficult to make black friends. You're judged on far more than your character up this way. That is another story though.
My concern about raising my children there, throughout my rant, is that they will not be around people who understand or people who look like them. While we still have access to medium and larger size areas that are a maximum 1 and a half hours away, you can't visit those places all of the time. Granted, parents are the ones who wield much of the influence in their child's life. But how do you prepare them for small town thinking when you send them to school everyday at age 6 and 7? How do you prepare them for the uneducated masses that may gawk at the color of their skin and the parents they're accompanied by?
JB and I haven't had any outright problems when we're around his town, but I worry about my kids.
Many have that saying, "What doesn't hurt you makes you stronger." I just hope that JB and I have the where with all as parents to raise self-aware, proud children. If not, then we will have failed ourselves and everything we believe in. It will be our responsibility to ensure that we equip them with the necessary armor to deflect assumed criticism, jokes, ignorance, etc.
We don't want our children to choose black or white, though it may be easier for them to say they are black. They will, hopefully, be who they are and that is it. They will not be either or, but both. I just hope the world we're planning on bringing them into will understand that without any extensive monologues and fleeting explanations.

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Subject:	No More Etiquette
Time:	1:06 pm.

Whatever happened to basic public restroom etiquette? I am posing this question as if there was any such thing that ever existed in the first place. You would think that women would be so careful to ensure that "their" restroom remains clean and usable to some degree for the others that would come behind them. Especially since we like to talk about how men are such nasty creatures.
Today, at work, I walk in the bathroom after lunch only to find that my favorite stall in the restroom had some unfinished business. One of the ladies who used the room before me decided to leave her toilet seat cover on there. You know, there flushable right? I had to walk away because that is not the first time I have seen such atrocities in a women's public restroom.
In college, when I shared a dorm with 10-12 other girls at a time, there were always problems with people taking care of wrapping up their sanitary napkins appropriately. I would walk in and see them wide open in trash cans. So much for a comfortable bathroom experience. Sometimes girls would even bring their dirty dishes into the bathroom and let them soak when other simply wanted to wash their face at the sink. The last thing I wanted to see was dried oatmeal being loosened by soap and water in the restroom sink.
When I moved into an on campus apartment, my roommates found it so difficult to clean the shower. I remember strokes of dark mold forming on the synthetic walls of the shower. Four girls in the apartment, and normally I was the only one who cleaned the bathroom, because the last thing I want to see is a nasty bathroom. Too many germs.
And so you step into the world of so called sophistication. Everyone went to college and has at least one degree under her belt. But for some reason, she may find it difficult to flush a toilet or wrap up her maxi pads that risk exposing her Aunt Flo residue.
Though this entry may seem gross to some, it is the reality that women are not as clean and dainty as they may seem. I might throw my clothes on the floor of my bathroom before I take a shower, or leave the cap off of the toothpaste. I might even leave soap in the sink on accident, after washing my hands. But believe me, when I'm in public I will always make sure to wrap up that maxi pad, flush the toilet and wipe around the sink before exiting the bathroom. Gotta make sure that it's left presentable for the next person who walks in.

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Subject:	Let the Wedding Headaches Begin
Time:	12:21 pm.
Music:	Tony, Toni, Tone!.

I wanted to enjoy my engagement for about a month, but since JB and I would like to get married next August, some big decisions, such as location, have to be made soon. Along with those decisions, comes discussions about budget and contribution expectations from our parents. After speaking with my mother, and giving her a background of what costs to expect, she decided that 20K from each set of parents would be feasible. That would give JB and I 40K to spend. This is more than enough, giving us a chance to pretty much do what we'd like for the reception and beyond. JB hasn't talk to his parents but said he would talk budget with them today so we can come to a final, "what are you willing to help with?" and go from there.
On Wednesday we have a discussion with our rabbi to settle on a date and time that is doable.
After the conversation with my mom, I still had my doubts about if my father would agree to that budget. He has always been a miser when it came to his children, and I am beginning to be convinced that this is the reason my younger sister and me often ended up wearing those awful Wal-Mart clothes to school when we were growing up (though my family was well off enough to at least let us do a little dept store shopping for school clothes). While my parents were in New York this past week to visit my older sister, they were all discussing the wedding and somehow budget and how much everything will cost, came up. My mom mentioned the 20K and my dad, from my mom and sister's account, went crazy. He said that he was only going to contribute 5K. That's it. He was not going to empty his pockets for my wedding. When my mom told me this, I was not surprised. A few weeks ago, I remarked that dad was not going to cooperate with wedding costs because that's just how he is. She told me that he knew he needed to prepare for wedding, and would be willing to pay for things when it came up. But I wasn't so confident in my mother's words. His reported actions fail to shock me.
My mother then told me that dad gave two of his brothers 3K a piece to help with their respective businesses that have never thrived. His brothers are over 50 and are constantly full of excuses and self-pity. It frustrates me, but there is nothing I can do to change the way he is. My father has always been quick to help out other people, but his own children, well that is another story.
While I love my father, the older I get, he frustrates me. And I continue to maintain a good relationship with him. Perhaps this is because, in spite of how he is, I always enjoy a little bit of the wisdom he has to impart every now and then. It's truly priceless, and something about him I've always loved, even if he's a cheapskate miser.

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Subject:	Let's Move Up the Date
Time:	8:14 am.

Sure, it's tough when JB lives an hour a way and we only get to spend time together during the weekends. When Monday morning arrives and he has to go back home and prepare for work and the week ahead, it's hard to let go. But when I finally let go and he leaves, I'm suddenly OK. I'm learning to accept that this is just how it is for us.
On Wednesday night, I had a horrible dream where I caught JB cheating on me with another person. I expressed to him how this upset me, but by no means had any bearing on our relationship. Though the dream left me in a crap mood for much of the morning, I was fine once the afternoon came. JB kept calling me, though, especially as I was getting ready to leave for work. I cried, because I missed him, but by no means am I not coping with us being apart. Sometimes it gets frustrating.
Last night, JB arrived at a solution for our "problem", which would be living apart. He suggested that instead of us getting married next August, that we move the date up to next April or May.
I responded with much disagreement, because the reason for August was so that I can finish school next May and spend the remainder of the summer tying up loose ends for wedding plans. That is what we had both envisioned. But recently JB has hinted that he'd love for us to get married this December, though he understands how impossible this is given the time constraints of planning. But I told him, that an engagement is a period that should be enjoyed. There is no need to rush it. We have plenty of time (hopefully the rest of our lives) to have fun being married, but for the time being let's bask in the pleasure of engagement. Let our family and friends congratulate us on this happy time. I want us to have an excellent engagement party with close family and friends in attendance. I do not want to rush and I really would prefer to finish school before we get hitched.
So no, I do not want to move up the date. August it will be. But we'll see if that changes any time soon.

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Subject:	Letting It All Go
Time:	1:40 pm.

Last night JB and I had a revealing conversation about our past dating and relationships experiences. This was sparked by his, supposedly, jokingly accusation that I had probably slept with guy friends that I grew up with in Texas. I took offense to this and gave him the silent treatment for a few minutes as I collected my thoughts and refrained from blowing his comment out of context. As he prepared to sleep on the couch for the evening, I sat down next to JB and explained why I took offense to the comment. First of all, he said it while we were going through my guest list for the wedding. He met these guys, all of them, when we were in Houston. A month or so before our trip, I explained that one my guy friends and I talked beyond platonic relationship during our senior year in college, but nothing romantic came of it. We realized that we were not compatible and we went back to being friends for life.
Nevertheless, as JB and I sat and talked about this, the conversation strayed into a discussion about his past relationships. For some reason, I think he felt the need to clear the air in case there were any further hesitations on my part about the status of those relationships. There is no hesitation, though I know out of respect for me, he ceased communication with his ex-girlfriends because I expressed discomfort with the idea. I find no reason for exes to speak to one another, even if the relationship ended amicably. Though I did not hold a knife to his throat when I told him I wasn't comfortable with the idea, I was very frank in my explanation. He still went through an entire diatribe about his relationships which seemed pretty tame compared to anything I've experienced. JB explained that most of the dating experiences he had were relatively cordial and each person respected one another as they parted ways to different life paths. He once told me, that over all, he had been lucky in love. And from what he told me last night, I had no reason to disagree. JB's love life, by and large, has been drama free.
I, on the other hand, had not been so lucky. Not until recently.
After he shared his stories of the past, I went into detail about how I really didn't have a relationship (a REAL relationship) until my senior year of college. Yes, there was a puppy love some thing or another that took place during my freshman year in high school, but that only lasted for one month. We never kissed each other, never had a date, and he never came to my house to hang out. We had a strictly school and telephone only relationship. In high school I was labeled a "prude" by all of the guys because I had never kissed anyone and because I was a self-professed virgin until marriage.
When I got to college I was really naive about dating and relationships. So I recounted my experiences, for JB, with NC boy, a host of others in between and my last two ex-boyfriends. All of the relationships has some element of drama. One boyfriend simply stopped talking to me one day. A couple of them cheated on me. One of them was emotionally abusive and my ex-boyfriend faked maturity for at least the first three months of our relationship. Then he realized that his friends were suddenly more important and I believe he was ashamed of being in a loving relationship with a black woman.
After telling these various stories, JB asked me to tell me about meeting him.
I explained that when we met last summer, though I was interested, there was no way I wanted to go there with any guy. But when we finally started dating, I knew he was someone special and worked hard to maintain a good relationship between the two of us. So I sacrificed some things with school (mainly dropping from three classes to two at the beginning of last semester), because I was convinced that if this relationship didn't work out, it would have been all my fault.
But it worked. We're engaged. And I'm the happiest woman alive.

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Subject:	I'm Engaged!
Time:	1:07 pm.
Music:	You And I Both ~ Jason Mraz.

Two or three years ago, if one asked me where I would two or three years from now, I would not have told them I would be engaged. This news is a little less than two days late, as JB proposed on Sunday in the late afternoon. A couple of entries back I explained how I ruined everything. I thought, as a result of my diarrhea of the mouth, a proposal would not be coming for at least another month. I was prepared for that to be the case, and convinced myself to remain patient (well, sort of).
Last Wednesday started out what would be, in my opinion, probably the best week of our relationship. And this doesn't necessarily have to include the proposal, because even if it hadn't happen my opinion about our time together would still remain the same. Nevertheless, I decided to take an extra day off from work on Thursday to make the Independence Day holiday a long weekend. Wednesday night we had dinner in Charlottesville. Thursday we had lunch together and I cooked dinner for us later that evening when he got home from work. Friday we spent the morning being lazy and finally went out for 4th of July festivities in his town which included a car show and a BBQ sandwich (I will blog about BBQ in Virginia at a later date because it is truly disappointing). Also, for the fireworks, we drove up to a ski resort to watch them. It was a nice change of scenery from other fireworks displays (i.e the National Mall where there were well over 500,000 people).
On Saturday JB worked, so I relaxed. We were invited to a post 4th party and were asked to bring a dish. The host was providing BBQ. Once again it was a pulled meat (pork to be exact, on the 4th I had pulled Beef). I opted out of that and chose to much on potato casseroles and pasta salad. My contribution to the party were blackberry and apple cobblers. When we got back to the house, we attempted to watch the Alfred Hitchcock version of psycho which I unintentionally fell asleep on. I was just tired.
And then there was Sunday morning. Early in the morning, it sounded like JB had an alarm that went off. He woke up and told me, in the midst of my deep sleep, that he was out to get something at the dealership (remember, his family owns a car dealership). After I finally woke up I stumbled into the bathroom and on my way out JB was sitting on the bed telling me to "get my ass" back in it. He was making me breakfast and bringing it to me. I couldn't refuse.
His ensemble of waffles, scrambled eggs, chopped strawberries and a big glass of OJ was enough for me. I thought we were going to hang out a bit and then go to Ikea, since that is what we'd discussed the previous weekend. I was looking forward to decorating the townhouse, but he had other things in mind for Sunday.
JB announced that we were going on a picnic but he had to prepare the food for it. Sandwiches perhaps? I was totally fine with that, until I saw the items in the kitchen consisting of steak, pasta and salad. I had not idea what I was in store for and vowed to stay out the kitchen as he continued his masterpiece of a picnic lunch.
Not surprisingly, however, we ended up going to a winery for winetasting and a tour of the winery. It was nice to share this experience with JB as he had never gone wine tasting. So I got to show him how to go about the process. It was a lot of fun. We ended up purchasing six bottles.
At the end, we had our picnic at the winery and it turned out that JB created pasta salad with the aforementioned ingredients. It was amazing. We broke open a bottle of wine and got to soak in the nature around us as we enjoyed our food.
Next up? I wasn't sure, and JB wasn't telling. He said we were going on a long drive home. I ended up falling asleep in the car due to a little bit too much wine bibbing. I snuck a peek at the mile marker sign when I saw that we were approaching Skyline Drive, the road that takes you through Shenandoah National Park. When I finally awoke, I heard the sounds of the Weezer Blue Album in the car (the first CD we listened together...on our first date) as we pulled up to the overlook where we parked on our first hiking trip together a few weeks back.
We stayed in the car talking as a park ranger was facing us. JB was annoyed and I was creeped since his presence there was a complete mystery. We ended up leaving and JB told me to let him know if there was another overlook that seemed interesting, and if so he would stop. I found one and we stopped.
We got out of the car and sat down on the mini stone wall that lined the overlook and we talked and enjoyed the scenery looking over the valley. He told me the wonderful things he always does about me and our relationship and then finally stated...."There is no other way I would want to spend of the rest of my life, than with you." And then he got down in front of me. At that moment I still was not expecting a proposal, though I had asked him earlier if there were any other surprises. He said, no not really, and then I kept it moving.
So as he got down in front of me I was completely oblivious until he asked, "Will you marry me?" My initial response was, "Are you for real!?" Though I knew he was serious, it did take me by surprise, because even though during the past 2 weeks I have been mentally reeling from "messing up" his initialy plans to propose, I was sure he would wait until August or maybe even September to ask me that. But he didn't. And I said yes.
And we were engaged, officially.

We called my parents first, and then my sisters and then told his parents in person. It was a whirlwind of a day as we were spreading the news to all of the initial important parties. At the end we were so exhausted that our own personal celebration consisted of left over apple cobbler from the day before and sitting on the couch to enjoy what was left of the Olympic Trials.

I'm still going through the initial shock, especially since we had less than the rest of the evening to have to ourselves. When I put on my ring this morning before leaving for work, I asked myself, "Is this real?" This is so real I have no other words but to say I am so incredibly happy. JB is the man I've wanted ever since we first met. Though I didn't know anything about him when we initially met last summer, there was something very sweet and kind about him that I wanted to get to know better. At the time I could have counted my losses and never looked back, especially since he hardly ever came to Shabbat services. But when we finally went out on our first date, I was in shock then, because I never thought that moment would happen. I fell in love with soon after we made our relationship official and could not be happier that he has asked me to be his wife.
More than planning a wedding, I'm truly excited about planning our life together, which seems to be something we'll do simultaneously with the wedding. I can't wait to be married to JB. He's truly the man for me.

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Subject:	In Defense of Juno: It's Not All the Media's Fault
Time:	9:41 am.
Music:	Jill Scott.

Recently, there has been an outcry from our "societal protectors" about the supposed media influence on the rise of teenage pregnancy (http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/25481370/). They call it the "Juno Effect," and how the media has glorified teenage pregancy through such movies and tabloids (Jamie Lynn Spears). What is the responsibility of the parents, though?
In this article, it stated that parents are often reluctant to discuss sex (openly) with their children and with the onslaught of abstinence only education pushed by the Bush administration, media (and most likely peers) is the way that children learn about intimacy.
I watched the premiere last night of the new ABC Family show, "The Secret Life of the American Teenager." First of all, the lives of American teenagers are not secret, it's just that many parents want to ignore the reality of what is happening with their children. This show last night proved such point. There was one scene where the parents of the main character (one of them was Molly Ringwald) were talking about how their 13 and 15 year old daughter did not need to have sex until they were married...even years after that. Mainly the father was the one who pushed the point as their mother looked at them and reluctantly agreed. Another family in the show, at the dinner table, was discuss their daughter's vow to stay chaste until marriage. She did this by wearing a promise ring on her left ring finger. Meanwhile, at school this very popular and Christian girl has a boyfriend who is weary about waiting until she gets out of medical school. They are 15 and 16 years old.
Adults like to play the ignorant card when it comes to their children, and many times they prefer to feed us the rosiness of intimacy that really is not. Most people do not wait until they're married, and since this is the case, how do you prepare your children for that? Obviously with honest communciation.
In my house the subject was basically taboo. My sisters and me were encouraged to wait until we were married. None of us have. This does not make us loose women or anything of that nature. We made these choices and live with them accordingly. As a result of my mother pushing the "Keep your legs closed" mantra, we all, to some degree, feel a bit of shame about our choices. However, such shame often remains hidden to most people. My dad is not much better and has called my sisters and me whores to our faces and behind our backs. I resent this name calling, but I simply chalk it up to ignorance.
Old school abstinence has never worked. Even people in the 1940s weren't waiting until marriage.
I'm not defending high school students and younger for not waiting, however. Many of them are still really immature and do not understand being intimate whatsoever. They have no clue about what it entails and specifically what the risks are. If parents and educators continue to feign ignorance about this, then the kids are doomed. The media is only going to be an added complication.

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Subject:	Sometimes I Am My Own Worst Enemy
Time:	9:25 am.

I have the tendency to over think situations, life occurences, the flaws in others, my career, education, relationships...I over think most things. While I've abandoned my tendencies to over analyze, though I still analyze, my thoughts are constantly with me. I can't stop them from swarming my brain.
This preface leads me to something greater.
Over the last couple of weekends, I had a feeling that JB was getting ready to propose. As a result, I went crazy in my own mind. Last weekend he was planning this wonderful evening of hiking in the Blue Ridge Mountains followed by eating some food and watching the sunset from his circa 1973/1974 British convertible. I had a feeling, as he was explaining the plans, that a ring would follow. And so, after dinner last Saturday when he told me that he had a surprise, I thought I knew. As I sat in the car seat he placed something in my lap only for me to open my eyes for a box of Whoppers. What a tease. Though Whoppers are one of my favorite candies, it pales in comparison to an engagement ring.
That Thursday, before our hike, I explained to JB that I wasn't sure if we were ready to venture the waters of marriage. Or at least I was not. Since I'd asked him if we could wait until the end of the summer or this fall to get engaged, I assumed there was no planning whatsover for that to occur. At least not any time soon. My doubts in that respect made him spiral into confusion and a worry. I knew I had cast a shadow over things, but really wasn't sure to what extent.
So when last week came I knew that I wanted things to be different. But I still had a feeling that someting was on the horizon. And so I overthought it. JB was more affectionate than normal, last Thursday and Friday. He came up last Thursday for banquet that we went to in the evening after work. All was well as we marveled at the beauty of the Ritz Carlton where the event was held. Perhaps it could be a place to hold our wedding reception? We stopped the excitement and enjoyed the rest of the evening. The next day, this past Friday, he called me a few times since he stayed at my house while I was at work (he's off on Fridays).
I was excited to get home to him, only to get home and see his face and something deflated inside of me. We went to the fitness center to work out, but before he wanted to hold and cuddle with me. Something was going on when all I wanted to do was get some exercise in before Shabbat services.
After exercise I told him that sometimes I took our relationship for granted and didn't like doing it, though I had not clue why I did. And later, as I was getting ready for services, I reiterated it again when JB wanted to discuss further. I don't know why I feel this way, I told him. But I knew. I'm scared shitless. And I'm tired of being scared of being with him.
JB asked me if I wanted to marry him, and I said "I think so." When I knew I meant to say, wanted to say, yes. Why was I acting this way and putting a monkey wrench into the grand plan of marrying the man of my dreams and the love of my life? For the first time in my life, I can admit to myself, that our love is so strong that it frightens me. Perhaps that is the case because I know that love changes over time, people change. Love and marriage is so unpredictable. So when it's all good, the prospect of change at any point is frightenting. Furthermore, the prospect of me abandoning my independence that I've relied so much upon in the past, is a scary thing. I have not put my life in the hands of another person, completely, since I left home for college. Even when I entered relationships with other guys in the past, I never let go totally because they could not be trusted with all I had to give. But JB is. And the fact that I'm fighting, and bucking against letting go ruined something that could have been this past weekend.
After I got done listing the things that were frightening me and annoyed me, JB paused. I thought he was going to want us to break up. This was the second weekend in a row I pulled this out on him.
I told him to share his thoughts with me since I'd done so with him. He said, "You really don't want to know." I asked him if he wanted to break up and he said no.
Then what was it?
He struggled to get the words out for a few minutes until he let it all go.
For the past few weeks he had been waiting for my engagement ring to be done so he could ask me to marry him. He was going to last weekend, but the ring wasn't ready.
BUT this week, it was ready. He had gotten the ring, and was going to ask me to marry him (presumably this past weekend), but after hearing all of this he wasn't sure at that point. In shock, I got up and left the room. I went to my walk in closet, and cried. Uncontrollably. What was wrong with me? Why was I doing this to JB? He was so undeserving and I know how much I love him. So what's the problem? Fear. Fear of everything I don't want to happen in my relationship that is exactly happening right now.
When I got done I walked back into the living room where JB was and he saw I'd been crying and he felt horrible. JB and I are two emotional people, one would think two peas in a pod. But I love that about him because I always know how he's feeling. I never have to guess.
He asked me to stop crying, but I couldn't help it. I told him, "Now it won't be a surprise," (speaking of the engagement) and he broke down himself. He wanted it to be a surprise. But I assured him that it would be. I know it will be, because it's JB.
To make matters worse (if I can put it that way), he told me that when we were in Houston, he asked me for my parents for my hand in marriage. They both said yes. I broke down even further. They were tears of frustration and happiness. At that point I knew I'd messed up.
The rest of the weekend was making up for what had happened. Though I know amends were made, JB did not propose. It didn't seem right and I was OK. For now, I'm going to abandon thoughts of our impending engagement and just enjoy the fact I didn't completely screw things up. I can do better and will. He needs to know that I am there and not going anywhere at all.
Also, I'll keep my mouth shut. JB is as scared as me, but hasn't let that get in the way. Though these past couple of weeks have made him step back, I don't blame him. All I can do is go forward and be the woman I know I am and be the best woman I can be for JB. He deserves nothing less.

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Subject:	Going to Sacramento
Time:	10:56 am.

In life, things are constantly changing and coming up. In MY life, this is definitely the case.
Just last week I was made aware of this opportunity with my job to go to Sacramento, CA for an assignment. This assignment is expected to last for two whole months, but I am thinking I may only get a chance to stay for 1 month, because of school. Nevertheless, this is a great chance for me to become visible within the company, beef up my resume, and gain valuable experience. I found out just this morning that I was among those who had been chosen for this assignment. It is official.
So what is the down side to this? I have to be away from JB. We already live far enough apart from each other. When in Sacramento, I'll be on the opposite side of the country. In my last relationship, my ex boyfriend was away for 2 who months and by the time he returned, our relationship was in shambles. While he was away there were a series of misbehavior on his end. I think he cheated. I was here and stayed totally faithful. Nevertheless, things were ruined. With JB I'm pretty sure this will not be a problem because we have built such a strong foundation for ourselves. Also, we've been together quite a bit longer than I was with my ex when he went away. Our relationship was still trying to figure itself out. Quite the contrary with JB and I, we're sure we want to marry each other. The distance should be inconsequential and just another opportunity for us to grow into the couple that we were meant to be.

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Subject:	Sure, Blame it On the Economy!
Time:	3:10 pm.

There has been such uproar, mainly among the black community, about the speech Barack Obama made this past Sunday in Chicago. He was talking about the absence of black fathers and how they need to step up their responsibilities. One response by Earl Ofari Hutchison, defended the "flight" of black men from their responsibility of raising a family, by blaming it on the economy. (see: http://pajamasmedia.com/blog/obama-lay-off-black-fathers/).
And so my rant begins...
I am sick and tired of black men defending each other for being sorry fathers, husbands, boyfriends, etc. When the likes of Bill Cosby and Barack Obama step up and cause a group of people to basically examine themselves, finger pointing ensures. STOP the blaming and take responsibility. Period.
See one of the comments by a poster in respone who was pointing out that Mr. Hutchison was lamenting the near Great Depression unemployment rate. The poster noted that the employment rate was around 33% or something like that. Right now we're at about 5%. So where are the excuses. Of course the public school systems aren't that great, but there are people rising above poor educations every single day. It's called motivation.
Anyway, the fact that he tries to lighten the load on black men is absolutely ridiculous. Do not get me wrong. I was raised by two very strong and capable parents. Both grew up poor in the South and were able to rise above it. In particular, my father was raised on a farm in North Louisiana with 11 other brothers and sisters. His family barely had money for clothes, but luckily were blessed with food on the table at all times due to owning 30 acres of land. The schools weren't so good, however. He always told us about how the coach of the football team would be teaching chemistry and was far from qualified to do so. The textbooks were outdated and old (as was the case with many all black schools back in the day). Somehow, my dad was able to rise above that. He never fathered any children out of wedlock, he went to college and entered the Coast Guard, married my mother and had 3 children (not all in that order). While his job when I was growing up demanded alot of travel, he always had an enduring presence in our lives. Granted, he has his flaws, but my dad was there. He paid for college (and is not demanding for us to pay him back) for both myself and my older sister. Mom is taking care of college for the youngest. When I had track meets he was there, or when I really wanted to play basketball in elementary school, we would travel all of the way to the other side of Houston so we could practice. The basketball team in question never really came into fruition, but at least we tried and it worked (I should have just played at the "Y").
While my dad is just one example of the positive, I have other friends' fathers (black friends) who were present. But then there are those who were not. Whether they were not present at all in the home, or they were there, but just emotionally absent. They were just there. Nothing else. Unfortunately, this is the case for many black families where the mother really does have to pull her weight and act as the mother and the father. THIS is what Mr. Hutchison failed to describe. Black men and ALL men SHOULD be bringing home the bacon, whatever that paycheck is, because that is what fathers do. If all else fails, THEY are the ones who should be making sure there is enough money flowing so that food is on the table, especially if the mother is at home raising the children full time. They should be making sure there is a roof over their families' head. Basic nurturing.
Don't blame the economy, public schools, or the ghetto. People transcend these so-called barriers all of the time, every single day. In this land of opportunity called America, there are so many resources at our fingertips that for some reason, some black men are not taking advantage of at all. Hence, the reason why more black women are graduating from college then black men. I know not all of the black women in college came from middle class to upper middle class families. They had to cross the same hurdles others had to in order to get to college. But the truth remains the same. Brothas are lagging behind. That is the bottom line.
Barack Obama speaks the truth whether you want to hear it or not. You have to step up if you don't want people to say anything. The next phase, is if Obama is President, I want to see what he'll do about this problem.

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Subject:	Shabbat Shalom
Time:	10:51 am.
Music:	I left my good music in Houston!!!.

In continuing with blogging about things "black", I came across an article today that I am linking to below:
http://www.blackstate.com/dateblackwomen.html.
The author of the article, Matthew Lynch, describes the reasons why black men are choosing to date other women besides black women, or in essence, Why it is hard to date a black woman. He takes a sample from FIVE black men. That's right, FIVE. And comes up with a list of 10 reasons (Well he only lists ten of the fifty, I guess he didn't want to go there with the other fourty) why it is hard to date a black woman. Among them are:

1. Black women make black men feel under appreciated, unwarranted and irresponsible and regressive.
2. Black women are too aggressive and no longer patient in waiting on the pursuit of a man.
3. Black women are strong headed, too independent which presents great challenges in relationships.
4. Black women are masculine in that they are controlling and like to run the relationship.
5. Black women expect too much. They are gold diggers who will not look twice at a blue collar black man.
6. Black women are hot headed and have bad attitudes.
7. Black women stop caring about their appearance after a certain age.
8. Black women are not as sexually open as other races, especially in regards to oral sex.
9. Black women’s tolerance is far too low; they are no longer empathetic to the black man’s struggle in white America.
10. Black women do not cater to their men.

There are many reasons for this sentiment. Mr. Lynch goes on to explain that this is rooted in slavery and how slave masters basically tried so hard to drive black families apart, and were successful, that now remnants of the past are still alive to this day. Hence, the strain between relationships between black men and women.
Where I'm going with my commentary is this, and I will only speak for myself here.
HOW DARE HE? This response is not going to consist of anger, spite, hatred or any of that, because I love black men. My father is a black men, so are my uncles (though many of them are trifling creatures), and some of my best friends are black men. Actually these best friends are like brothers I never had. Needless to say, when it has come down to dating black men in the past, let me say that I have not had any luck. Somehow, I have dated "other" men with ease, however.
I have always prided (is that a word?) myself on being different, and thinking against the grain on a whole set of issues. I'm not your typical "black liberal," though I vote Democratic and am a self professed Obama supporter, I am by far a moderate. That is for another discussion for another time, though.
When I was in high school, I was labeled as "cute" by the guys (I'm talking about black guys/men here, so there is no need to further label beyond guys, boys or men), but always said "don't go there." I will admit that back in high school I had a host of issues surrounding my anger. Much of this had to do with the fact that I was consistently marginalized by my own people for not being "black enough." However unfortunate it was, I made friends elsewhere, with other people. As some matured, though, they came around and realized that even if I was not like them, I was me. Ultimately I got respect for that. But, when the cutest guys in school dared to go there with me, they were stripped away by other, desireable loose girls that would do whatever they wanted, whenever, wherever. I was a self proclaimed virgin in high school, so a lot of what MOST of the kids were doing, I was saying heck to the no. As a result the guys said heck to the no, to me.
As a result of the shuns, I had my first kiss when I was 16 and, solidly, a Junior in High School. He was Mexican. Later after that, my senior year in high school, there would be a host of (black) guys that feigned interest, but by that time it was too late. I was going far away to college and wasn't interested in dating anyone in Texas. Besides, some of the main ones who had a chance 2 years previous were all about me. They were really too late.
In college, the story was pretty much the same. I knew that I was not by far the prettiest black girl on campus, but I could definitely compete with them in the looks department. I had plenty of the guys checking me out on my way to class, but would never have the guts to stop me and say hello. Of course, I always get the, "you look like you're on a mission." That is true. I'm on my way to class. The kind of black men that I pictured myself with, were always the ones who would not even look at me. They were professional, handsome and intelligent. Someone I would be proud to take home to my parents and raise a powerful black family with. I was constantly looked over by them for more hip, fashion conscious diva types that fit the bill of a girl who might grace the pages of Essence Magazine. That is not me. I'm more fit for...Newsweek or something like that. By no means am I boring, just not conventional.
The one black guy who I had the ultimate crush on through school had a girlfriend during our freshman year, and part of sophomore year in college. We became friends, but I stayed away. Heaven knows that I was not interested in being a home wrecker. No way, no how. When I found out he hand his girlfriend had broken up, I felt like I could make that move. We were friends, so if I told him how I felt I didn't think it would create any unwarranted awkwardness. One evening I pushed forward and decided to send him an email. It was carefully crafted and edited before I hit the send button. He never responded, but we followed up via instant messenger. When I saw him on campus he was so eager to see me, and stated that we would definitely hang out some time. I don't know if he was expecting for me to make the first move in the date department or if he was just dragging his feet. Whatever the case, nothing ever came of that. He ended up being flocked by sorority girls. He was an Alpha Phi Alpha. I was an "Independent." I guess we just didn't mix.
There was one other hopeful, but he just turned out to be not to be my type. We were set to go out to dinner once after he had bugged me so much about going out. I sat and waited for him at the restaurant for 30 minutes and he never showed up. I left the restaurant only to see that he was just straggling in. I was pissed, and he lost major points for that one.
While there have been other black men, I will not mention here. It would take too long. I have no problem with black men, let me say. But before there is this unscientific list to include (which was probably a roundtable of Lynch's disgruntled friends) the reasons for why black women are hard to date, it is time to take stock of yourself and do a self examination of why things are so messed up between black men and women. Why can't they get along and what will it take to bring the two together in healthy relationships. Since I don't see that happening anytime soon, I am going to stay content with my wonderful JB and live a wonderful life. I don't have time to deal with the shenanigans and BS of my folks anymore when it comes to dating.
Done and out.

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Subject:	Fitness and all that Jazz
Time:	3:20 pm.
Music:	George Michael.

Recently I came across this blog that has been newly started not too long ago, providing fitness tips, healthy cooking ideas, and the quest for figuring out how to care for black hair when you work out. I just got done doing a quick Google search for the link, but it's not quite available. The blog is supposed to be an open forum for black women to come and discuss their journey through working out, eating healthy, and striving for overall well being of mind body and soul. While the focus of the blog is to be commended, there are a couple of things that I read that are a bit of a challenge.
First, the blog author discusses how there are no fitness magazines catered toward black women. OK. This is absolutely true. She goes further to note that the bodies of black women are very different from other women. I would venture to say that this is not so true. A woman's body is a woman's body. When you look at any fitness magazine whether it is Shape or Oxygen, women write in talking about problems with tightening their tummy or getting their hips to dwindle in size. Whatever the case, we women struggle equally with the same problem areas. Additionally, to the point about no fitness magazines catered toward black women: I think this is fine. But, I'm one of those people who feel like if you're going to complain about it then do something. The blog is a start, but going one step further to start a magazine is an option. Though it takes time, money and a lot of other resources, I have been told that where there is a will there is a way. I'm a firm believer in this.
Furthermore, the blog highlights how the magazines do not discuss tips for health soul food recipes. OK. There are a lot of options out there for this, namely the internet and I believe some cookbooks. There are resources for black women who would like to find other options to make soul food in a healthier way. I must say, in addition, that soul food is not always at the top of the menu for all black people. For some reason I find fried food (except for McDonald's french fries, fried corn bread, and fried fish) to be utterly repulsive, especially if not in moderation. I've never had much of a stomach for fried chicken. Plus, there are little things black folks can do with soul food items such as collard greens. No pork and no sugar. My East Coast brothers and sisters tend to have an affinity for sugar in their greens. It is not cute.
Finally, the blog author laments about the lack of tips on how to care for black women's hair when you work out all of the time. I admit that this can be a challenge, but my mother blessed me with something that many of my fellow black female counterparts were not always blessed with...no frequent trips to the beauty shop. AND beating down the washing your hair every 5 days routine. When you sweat, you wash. This does not mean washing your hair everyday, though it is tempting, I go ahead and wash every two days, especially when I sweat profusely during summer workouts. Some sisters might be averse to this idea, but it's not a bad one. If you heat style, make sure you deep condition. There have been suggestions to go natural, but in all honesty, it's not something that I wish for myself. For my profession, natural hair is not the way to go if you want to get in a position of power in the coroporate world. It's just the reality.
With that said, the blog is good. I have my gripes about it, but the direction it's going seems positive and it will only get better. One of the things I hope she continues to discuss and in more details is the fact that black women who call themselves Thick or Voluptuous or Curvy are not so. They are overweight. At 5'4 and 134 pounds and athletic, I AM considered thick. Now if I were 170 pounds or above, well those labels could not nbe fairly applied.
Among these and other things, I think I'll keep reading, though.
Until next time...

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Subject:	To the Point of Mental Burnout
Time:	1:02 pm.
Music:	California Dreamin ~By The Mammas and Papas.

It has been over a week since I had an entry here.
The trip home to Texas was wonderful. Everyone loves JB, and so our relationship received the official green light from all who love and care about me back home. And so we proceed.

The main reason why I haven't been in here lately is because of my summer class. It's a six week class about health care law issues. There is lots of reading involved (thick text book and supplemented court cases by the professor) along with a 20 page paper that is due in a couple of weeks. Boy oh Boy. When registering, I knew this class would entail both of these, so I mentally prepared myself for such.
However, over the last couple of weeks, toward the end of the spring semester up until now, I have become increasingly tired. During the week I make sure that I have an adequate workout either at the fitness center or going out for a walk/run in my neighborhood. All of this mental overload is a bit much for me, however. I need much more than the small break I had over Memorial Day weekend.
On the weekends when JB and I are together, I have designated Sundays as my official nap day. Granted, before he came along this was always the case. But I am so adament about us spending as much time together as possible on the weekends, since we don't have that during the week. When I fall asleep on the couch during a movie I promised we'd watch together, I already know what is going through his head. THEN I insist on going to the bed for an official nap. Yesterday when I did this, JB asked, "But I thought you wanted to spend as much time as possible together this weekend?" Of course I said that. So I reluctantly agree to stay on the couch and try to take a good nap, inspite of the movie going on in the background. Then, he tells me I should go ahead upstairs where he tucks me in and asks how long I expect to be asleep. "Not for long," I say. This means I'll be there for 2 - 2 1/2 hours.
When I was talking to my mom on the phone last night I told her how tired I'd been lately. I feel like I'm going through the motions of my day. On the weekends I'm ready for excitement and then I'm tired all of a sudden. I'm beyond ready to be done with school and move on with my life. Her response was that I'd probably been experiencing burnout.
Is that the diagnosis? I'm burned out from the endless hours of tapping away at a computer, doing research and then sitting in classrooms listening to lectures (or doing so online), reading chapters of books, writing papers, completing group projects (and working on them throughout entire weekends with the group). It's a lot, I know. That is why anyone who asks me whether they should go to graduate school, or better yet work and do graduate school at the same time (I always get the question, "How do you do it?"), I always suggest that if they can afford it, go to school full time. If you have no choice, then by all means. Do what you must. I understand the desire to want/have/need money at all times. However, through my experience, it is what I suggest.
I don't regret my decision to work and go to school at all. For this reason, I know that I will have tremendous career advances that my peers of the same age will not have. While it is hard work, I have no complaints about the future benefits I plan to enjoy as a result of it.
Needless to say, I'm tired. After this summer course, there will be 4 classes left to take. In the fall, once again, I'll have two courses online. It seems like I got the most difficult class over with in a spring and go through with a B+ which I was sort of happy with. But the class was a challenge, so no complaints. Once again, I have the leisure of working on a weekly schedule of classes, from home. Next spring will be a different story. I will be taking Health Economics and the final Capstone course. Historically, Me+Economics courses = a grade in the C range. Those classes were all taken during my first year of college. I lacked the maturity and focus to make the right grades. I'm older, paying for school, and much more focused than before. The Capstone course is another issue which will hopefully be addressed in the way I need it to be, during the fall semester. It means I would have to juggle work and an internship. I'm not really interested in doing such and will try as hard as possible to plea my case of finding a project within my organization. If not, let the mental burnout continue.

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