(no subject)
Grumpy
robert is out this morning. i would do a happy dance, except Steve is here, insisting in his ridiculously cheeful manner that i share in his joy of the morning. fuck you, mornings. i don't mind getting up early, i'm always up, anyway. but i would much prefer a dark, quiet cave. with no people. yes, if i could avoid all people until maybe, noon, or 5 o'clock, this would be ideal. why on earth i refuse to get a night job, i just don't know. get a night job, Lana. it will be much easier on you and everyone else.
Melancholy
i miss Michael. i know, i know, he's busy. living. defying. doing his own thing. and he's not thinking about me at all. but i miss him. i went to watch Blood on the Dance Floor & Ghosts last night, and i couldn't do it. i almost cried. getting used to the music/video world without Michael is just hard, hard, hard. i spent my childhood immersed in his creativity. like clockwork. every four or five years, a new treasure. Off the Wall. Thriller. Bad. Dangerous. HIStory. Blood on the Dance Floor. Invincible. i never thought of myself as a selfish fan, but i am discovering that this is exactly what i am.
Frustrated
Morgan Freeman has stirred the masses a la Bill Cosby, and i find it quite perplexing that people get so disturbed by someone sharing his opinion. is there no room for opinion? i suppose there isn't any room for unpopular opinion. Mr. Freeman has said plenty of things that i take exception to, but on this point, i absolutely agree with him. it is ludicrous to continue to attempt to reduce American Black History to one month. i always appreciated that about the NOI, and my family; it was always stressed that we learn as much of everyone's history as we could, because it wasn't just about being Black, it was about understanding what happened, knowing the players. how else do you get the full picture? i don't argue with the past; those who came before me did the best they could, and Black History Month has certainly served its purpose. but now, isn't it up to me to push for more. how can the history of a people be divided based upon skin color, or even culture, for that matter? history is history, events are events. and, i don't care how much we decry otherwise, my American experience, my American history is no different from the next American's. it is all one and the same, all important, and all significant. and damned if i will continue to separate myself as African American, from an Italian American, or a Chinese American, or a Native American. the cultures are different, sure, but the society remains the same. what is the harm in accepting that truth? where is the threat in that? it is what it is. be interesting to see how school curriculum changes in the next 20 or 30 years or so, if we even allow it to change.
Bewildered
i keep having strange fantasies. before, the sexual stuff was just that, sex. now, the imaginings are all... involved. conversations, and touching, and laughter. connection, i think is the right word. and not just with any one man, it's with every guy. before, i could only see myself having the wham bams, thanks, see you later. now, suddenly, the romantic in me is creating visions of... *shudder* relationships. i think this is singularly James's doing. i am not sure if i'm pleased with this unexpected turn of events, or frustrated.
Amused
i haven't owned a proper coat in 6 years or so. really, not since we left Gary for the last time. there hasn't been the need. there still isn't, but i kind of miss the ritual of winter. it's only gotten down to 30 so far this year. this morning, it felt more like 40. me and Barb keep kind of looking at each other and wondering, "how come we don't have coats? everyone else has coats, but here we are, just dressed regularly, as if it's still summer." i think we plan every year to buy them, but the funds are never there. oh well. it's just as well that we don't live anyplace that requires true bundling up. we couldn't afford it.
robert is out this morning. i would do a happy dance, except Steve is here, insisting in his ridiculously cheeful manner that i share in his joy of the morning. fuck you, mornings. i don't mind getting up early, i'm always up, anyway. but i would much prefer a dark, quiet cave. with no people. yes, if i could avoid all people until maybe, noon, or 5 o'clock, this would be ideal. why on earth i refuse to get a night job, i just don't know. get a night job, Lana. it will be much easier on you and everyone else.
Melancholy
i miss Michael. i know, i know, he's busy. living. defying. doing his own thing. and he's not thinking about me at all. but i miss him. i went to watch Blood on the Dance Floor & Ghosts last night, and i couldn't do it. i almost cried. getting used to the music/video world without Michael is just hard, hard, hard. i spent my childhood immersed in his creativity. like clockwork. every four or five years, a new treasure. Off the Wall. Thriller. Bad. Dangerous. HIStory. Blood on the Dance Floor. Invincible. i never thought of myself as a selfish fan, but i am discovering that this is exactly what i am.
Frustrated
Morgan Freeman has stirred the masses a la Bill Cosby, and i find it quite perplexing that people get so disturbed by someone sharing his opinion. is there no room for opinion? i suppose there isn't any room for unpopular opinion. Mr. Freeman has said plenty of things that i take exception to, but on this point, i absolutely agree with him. it is ludicrous to continue to attempt to reduce American Black History to one month. i always appreciated that about the NOI, and my family; it was always stressed that we learn as much of everyone's history as we could, because it wasn't just about being Black, it was about understanding what happened, knowing the players. how else do you get the full picture? i don't argue with the past; those who came before me did the best they could, and Black History Month has certainly served its purpose. but now, isn't it up to me to push for more. how can the history of a people be divided based upon skin color, or even culture, for that matter? history is history, events are events. and, i don't care how much we decry otherwise, my American experience, my American history is no different from the next American's. it is all one and the same, all important, and all significant. and damned if i will continue to separate myself as African American, from an Italian American, or a Chinese American, or a Native American. the cultures are different, sure, but the society remains the same. what is the harm in accepting that truth? where is the threat in that? it is what it is. be interesting to see how school curriculum changes in the next 20 or 30 years or so, if we even allow it to change.
Bewildered
i keep having strange fantasies. before, the sexual stuff was just that, sex. now, the imaginings are all... involved. conversations, and touching, and laughter. connection, i think is the right word. and not just with any one man, it's with every guy. before, i could only see myself having the wham bams, thanks, see you later. now, suddenly, the romantic in me is creating visions of... *shudder* relationships. i think this is singularly James's doing. i am not sure if i'm pleased with this unexpected turn of events, or frustrated.
Amused
i haven't owned a proper coat in 6 years or so. really, not since we left Gary for the last time. there hasn't been the need. there still isn't, but i kind of miss the ritual of winter. it's only gotten down to 30 so far this year. this morning, it felt more like 40. me and Barb keep kind of looking at each other and wondering, "how come we don't have coats? everyone else has coats, but here we are, just dressed regularly, as if it's still summer." i think we plan every year to buy them, but the funds are never there. oh well. it's just as well that we don't live anyplace that requires true bundling up. we couldn't afford it.