Weed on the Stairs

I was walking home from an 8 hour day filled with qualitiative research and small group dynamics. I was enjoying the sun on my back as I thought about the dissertation I would begin to write next semester. I decided to take a short cut through a neighborhood. There were stairs that led from one street to another that is parallel.

I smelled a skunk as I got closer to the stairs and realized that there couldn't be a skunk in the busiest area of San Francisco. I came upon two young African American male teenagers who were sitting on the stairs smoking a joint. They saw me coming and scooted to either side of the stair. I said "hello" as I walked by.

I heard one of them say to the other, "We should get to the library and get those books and do our homework and study". I wanted to say something like, "Stop lying", but I knew there was no point. I realized that the lie was a run-on sentence. Why would I notice something like that. Probably because he just sounded dumb.

Lately, I've been wondering aout W.E.B. DuBois' talented tenth. I wonder if I'm part of the tenth who will overcome many of the challenges of being Black and being a woman. In roughly two years, I will be be a doctor of education. I will have reached a certain level of educational success and hopefully I will have some financial success which will allow me to live comofortably and pay off my student loans before I retire.

What will happen to these young men? I'm sure that my one interaction with them will not define their future, but I wonder.

Cabernet, Tuscany Orange and Olive

Can a man be straight and use those words? I don't mean to stereotype. Maybe there's been a paradigm shift and I just haven't caught on yet. Don't straight men use simple words like red, orange and green when discussing color? I think that's a fair question.

When did straight, virile, fine ass muscular Black men start caring about calling a color by it's specific name? More importantly, when did I begin to question a man's sexual orientation based on how he described colors? Over the last couple of years, I have come to realize that all Black men are either married, gay or don't date Black women. . . . .until otherwise notified. I am 35.9 years old and these are the three reasons why I don't date very often. I also believe this might be specific to living in the Bay Area. I don't see this phenomenon as a negative. It's just a fact. Now, the upside to it is that I have some great male friends. Because I have found that most men are married, gay or don't date Black women. . . . .until otherwise notified, I spend alot more time getting to know men, being thier friend. My relationships with men are much more rich and satisfying.

In the end, I am old fashioned. I want a man to be a man. The color is black, not dark charcoal; blue, not azure; or white, not snow. Some things should be simple.

Be Blessed.

And The Devil Said, "Ahhh Yes. . ."

I have been unemployed for approximately three weeks. Of course, I made some goals as to what I wanted to achieve. It was all of the usual stuff:
1. Read as much as possible
2. Finish Todd’s afghan
3. Do my homework and assignments in a timely fashion
4. Visit my elders, who hardly hear from me or see me
5. Apply for one job every day
6. Spend time walking in areas of San Francisco where I haven’t been before
7. Hang out at a bar or lounge at least twice a week for a least one hour each time
8. Exercise at least five, if not six times a week

I haven’t met ANY of my goals.

But, it’s the beginning of a new month. So I began October with a 90 minute spinning class. I love spinning. Spinning is an energizing bike ride that uses music, tension and routine to help you achieve the best sweat you’ve ever had in your life.

Carrie had us in first, second and high and low third positions. We sped through The Go Go’s,, Madonna, Prince and some house music I ain’t never heard before. By “Little Red Corvette”, the sweat was pouring into my eyes, nostrils and mouth. Carrie kept telling us to go from high third to low third.

Let me explain low third. Picture yourself sitting on the bike (with a gel cushion, of course) with your arms stretched out in front of you, holding on to the farthest tips of the handles in front of you. Your ass is only itches off the seat. You are feeling the sides of your torso stretch as you hold on to those bars. You can feel the skinny part of the seat rubbing against your inner thighs as they go up and down.

And Carrie kept saying, “Get lower!” And I tried. My knees began to brush against my chest as I forced my torso to “get lower”. Just as I began to breathe into the posture and regain my spinning momentum, Carrie yelled, “Get lower”!

I thought to myself, “If I get any lower, I’ll be able to breast feed The Devil”. My man, Prince, was singing to me. So, I got as low as was humanly possible for a girl my size. I was doing it for His Purple Highness, if no one else.

And I heard The Devil say, “Ahhh Yes. . . . “.

Spinning does that to me.

Be Blessed.