Vicious Cycle

I'm so tired that I feel crazy.
I'm so crazy that I feel anxious.
I'm so anxious that I feel tired.

So I'm going to bed.

Visions of Vegas

The last time I went to an outdoor show was back in '94 in Chicago and it was a torrential downpour. Everyone's uber goth outfits and makeup went straight to hell!! It was the best!! I had such a great time and I think once folks got over their fear of a tornado, folks threw plastic trashbags over themselves and were dancing like mad despite the drenching. Why put myself through the danger of being struck by lightning? Because I'm a slightly obsessed Depeche Mode fan, that's why!

One month from now, I'll be headed to Vegas to see Depeche Mode again. Olinga wants to go to the concert with me and how I wish I could take him but he'd probably go deaf and that would make me a bad parent. Instead, the fabulous Jenny Tan is going to come with me and she'll then be able to share stories with Elarryo and testify to the fact that I get a little crazy at their shows.

I'll admit it's pitiful: kids are walking on the 110 and 101 freeways today to protest immigration laws and I'm thinking about whether or not DM will play Sister of Night on April 30th. Praying. Hoping they play it. Like I said, pitiful.

Everyone's Not Apathetic

It's happened all over the country over the past few days. On Friday, students were walking out of schools down in Huntington Park and South Gate. On Saturday, Downtown L.A. was filled with a half million folks protesting the immigration bill. Today, there are more protests.

I have mixed feelings about the bill. On the one hand, to make it a felony to ride in a car with someone who's here illegally seems to be a bit silly. If those kids are here illegally, but are enrolled in school, they can be arrested? That makes no sense. On the other hand, employers shouldn't be hiring folks illegally. And, I don't think I can just move to France and get a job, no matter how much I'd like to enjoy their six weeks of vacation and fantastic maternity leave policies.

If the average American was feeling ok about their own job/finances, they wouldn't be so concerned, so fearful of a "Latino Takeover". I'm happy that there are middle and high school kids out there today who are willing to protest. Kids in Hollywood, kids in South Gate, kids in Downtown. Good for them to show that they aren't just sitting around applying hair gel.

I'd wish they'd walk out in protest of the crappy education they are getting.

NBC 4 - News - Students Walk Out To Protest HR 4437

I'm sick.

Last week I worked a ridiculous amount of hours. I didn't write in here at all because I was getting home at stupidly late times of night.

Stupidly late. There, I said it again.

And now I'm sick.

In fact, I think my body has fallen apart in the past three days. I thought the weekend would make it all better, but it didn't. I've been up since 1:30 am with awful stomach pains. Elarryo told me yesterday he thinks I should go see a doctor. This would be easier if I actually had a doctor to go to. It's terrible...I'm one of those people that only went to the doctor when I was pregnant. Terrible.

My whole family is sleeping peacefully and I'm here typing on my computer, contemplating whether or not to take a sick day tomorrow...contemplating all the work I have to do tomorrow. All the things that if I dropped dead would not be important at all...but I'm having a hard time staying at home.

Good Luck. Bad Luck.

The passing of yet another St. Patrick's Day has me thinking about good luck and bad luck. Specifically, what is it and how do I know if I've got it?

Curses, Destiny, Fate, The Evil Eye, Magic, Luck, Superstition: These are all the domain of those who once believed that the world was flat and bathing regularly would kill you. We should be past that in this age of rationalism, realism, and the scientific burden of proof. Get real though, the fortune cookie was invented in the United States, not China. We all open our fortune cookies because we still want to know what our future holds, if we'll have good luck or bad luck.

Yes, you want to know, especially if you live in L.A.

They say every other corner in Chicago has either a church or a liquor store. It should be said that every other corner in Los Angeles has a house or storefront with a big sign proclaiming, "Palms Read - Fortune's Told."

In the 19th century, the English aristocrats were afraid of their daughter's being kidnapped by gypsy caravans and forced to endure a lifetime of social ruin. Mr. Rochester proves a daring host as he masquerades as an old gypsy in "Jane Eyre". He tells futures in the drawing room for his shocked house guests. Unlike our Western Civilization literary predecessors, we're not so concerned with losing our virture, imagined or real, and so fully embrace the fortune teller who wears the multicolored scarf over her head, tons of bracelets and dangling earrings. And she's young and sexy instead of a scary hag, because, after all, who wants to dress up as an ugly gypsy for Halloween?

Of course, there are millions who have no idea who Mr. Rochester is. Indeed, the miles between USC and the 91 freeway lack even one Barnes and Noble or Borders bookstore with The Complete Idiot's Guide to Tarot available on the shelf, let alone a novel by Charlotte Bronte.

But don't fret if you think the residents of South Los Angeles are completely deprived. They have equal access to their choice of astrology readings for only $10. Mom and Pop businesses that sell everything from bubble gum to bras are situated next to storefronts with the ubiquitous neon palm in the window. And, if the fortune teller has a house with a gargantuan sign in the yard, you know she must be good, with the higher prices to match.


Being half Irish, I should be genetically disposed to have and believe in good luck. The Leprechaun King should be dancing jigs on my table and Darby O'Gill should be bedding down for the night on my couch. Well, then again, we are the people of the potato famine.

In fact, according to the time-tested rules of luck, I should be experiencing very bad luck. Here's a few reasons why:

1. If I see a penny with the tails-side facing up, I pick it up because it's money. I can put that penny in my son Olinga's piggy bank. Heck, I can put it in my own piggy bank. Money is money is money. Well, this is also bad luck.
   
   
2. I owned a black cat so it crossed my path every day. I specifically wanted a black cat. I didn't want yellow or tabby. I figured, black cat = mysterious and mystical. Oops, black cat = bad luck.
   
   
3. My son Olinga likes to open umbrellas both outdoors and indoors. I let him open them indoors. I'm looking forward to seeing him do a Singing in the Rain imitation. Umbrellas indoors. You KNOW this is bad luck.
   
   
4. If someone tells me, "Good luck," I say, "Thank you." Wouldn't it be rude to not say anything back? Not if I don't want bad luck.
   
   
5. My youngest son, Toussaint, broke the mirror in my compact. I tried to stop him from throwing it against the wall. Tried and failed. Seven years of bad luck...although I'm not sure if this counts against me or him.

Irishness and my bad luck aside, I can't help but think about another book called "The Fortune Tellers." It's by Lloyd Alexander and although it's supposed to be for ages four to eight, I think we could all stand to reread it a few times. In it, this guy goes to a fortune teller because he hates his job. He wants to know how if his life is going to get better and of course, the fortune teller says yes. The fortune teller says he'll get really rich...if he works really hard. He tells him he'll have a happy marriage...if he finds the right girl. So it's that old saying that "luck occurs when preparedness meets opportunity".

We all know this is how it works. We know bad luck isn't what brought Al Capone down. Bad luck didn't make Michael Jackson get plastic surgery. It didn't make Brad Pitt divorce Jennifer Aniston or make Tom Cruise jump up and down on Oprah's couch. Likewise, Flavor Flav being on VH1 is not about good luck.

What we really want is for the uncertainty in our lives to go away. We want to know that Los Angeles isn't going to be the site of the next 9/11, decimated by some terrorists that get ahold of a nuclear missile and decide to eliminate that Great Satan of the world, the San Fernando Valley porn industry.

We want to believe our lives will be better because most of us are living paycheck to paycheck and we want reassurance we won't end up living on Skid Row in downtown L.A. if something happens to us.

We need someone to tell us we will luckily lose that last ten pounds without logging additional hours at the gym. We want to know if those lonely nights spent working late will eventually be replaced by dinners with someone who loves us for who we really are, not for the number of "friends" we have on MySpace.

Deep down, we all want to believe. and when it comes to luck, it's all about belief. The voodoo priestess is effective because the person believes. The fortune tellers get repeat business because we believe.


If I don't believe in 'luck' and instead believe only in intentional action, then I might curse myself into not having any luck. So I always open my fortune cookie, ever hopeful that the message within will somehow come true, daunted only slightly when the person sitting next to me gets the exact same message with the exact same lucky numbers. I laughingly acquiesce when an acquaintance wants to try out the palm reading abilities she supposedly learned on a trip to Romania. I purchase my Patron Saint candles at the 99 cent store, specifically burning the St. Martin de Porres one with the hopes he'll keep me from suffering racial injustice.

Enough thinking about luck. I'll be cheesy and tell you now, Good night, and good luck.

Chaos Reigns at a Model School - Los Angeles Times

Courtesy of the L.A. Times, we have a front page article on how awful and dangerous Santee Dairy High School is. Or, South Los Angeles High School Number 1... they want kids to have an identity with the school but have yet to officially name the site. That's smart.

This article focuses primarily on gangs and violence on the part of the students at Santee Dairy. It's amazing that these school principals still act shocked that gangs are impacting their school. How funny is it that they acknowledge that gangs are prevalent in these areas...but there was no plan for how to address the gang problems in the first place. Instead administrators and school police are in shock and awe over what's happening at the school site. Jeepers, those violent black and latino students.

It's so typical is it that the article focuses on gang activity instead of the fact that students can't get the academic classes they need.

Chaos Reigns at a Model School - Los Angeles Times

Makeup Washes Off

Tonight I watched FX's new reality series, Black.White. If you haven't heard about it, the show takes a black family and a white family and, through the magic of Hollywood makeup artistry, they are transformed into the opposite race. Here's the photo of the white family transformed into black folks.


There's so much running through my mind after watching this show, particularly given the fact that it's set in Los Angeles. The L.A. Times spent some time trying to discredit the show , wondering if it's irresponsible, possibly stirring up racial tensions in a city known more for it's riots than for it's unity. That kind of thinking tells me it's ok for racism to affect some people on a day to day basis, as long as the rest of the city doesn't have to deal with it.

My first thoughts are about the white daughter, Rose. She get's this black "chaperone" who takes her down on Crenshaw while she's made up as black girl. I guess you need a chaperone to teach you how to walk down Crenshaw. What does it mean when the white daughter needs someone to make sure that she's going to be ok going into a black neighborhood? Are black people that scary? Appparently she's from Santa Monica and has never spent time in South L.A. at all. That's not so unusual. I remember teaching in Compton and meeting folks from Los Angeles, folks who'd grown up here, and being asked, "So where exactly is Compton?" I sometimes got the feeling they were asking so they'd know and could avoid it.

What would have been real is if Rose went for her "see how the other half lives" stroll down Crenshaw and then, instead of subsequently enrolling in a Hollywood poetry class with black folks, she enrolled as a student down at Locke or Crenshaw High. Then she'd really see what it means to be an average black teenager in Los Angeles. She'd see how black folks become statistics and how they become outstanding successes. She'd feel what it feels like to experience the tension between black and Latino students in our schools. She'd see first hand what it looks like to know that most teachers are not anticipating you'll be attenting UCLA or USC. That would've been reality!

I sat across from my husband and watched him watching this show. Watching the black man, who'd been transformed into a white man -- Elarryo was getting a little emotional watching another black man suddenly see what the other side experiences all the time. I watched him watching the black father break it down for the white father, who kept insisting that he'd wasn't being treated any differently as a black man.

I have to tell myself that I'm just getting crappy service when I walk into the Anthropolgie store at the The Grove. If I don't tell myself this, I'd be a ball of rage all the time. I might spend 20 minutes in there caressing every overpriced stitch of clothing and feeling on the cute dishes. No one approaches me, so I walk out. Bad service? Oh yes. Definitely. Racism? Here's my test: When salespeople ask someone who isn't black if they need help and they haven't asked me and I've been in the store longer, that's racism. When they walk by me without even making eye contact, I could write it off as being hipster scum snobbery. But I know better. And I know Elarryo gets it even worse than I do.

We want to act like today's world doesn't care about race. After all, we've got Condoleeza Rice in a high powered role and everyone watches Direct Effect on MTV and loves Usher and L'il John. We all want to pretend race is a non-issue, without asking ourselves why we've never even had a black Bachelor (Flavor Flav does not count) - and why the white Bachelors never pick sistahs. Really, we were all just one big happy family until Hurricane Katrina came along and messed things up, right?

I can't wait to see what happens next on this show. I'll be tuning in to FX next Wednesday at 10 to see how things develop for these two families.

Hard To Deal With Disappointment

It's been three days since the Oscar's but I'm still trying to process Three-6-Mafia actually winning for Best Song. Since then, I've been trying not to think about them gnashing their diamond-encrusted grillz on the red carpet during the pre-show. Of course, they lined up in a row, opened their mouths and shined their teefers for the camera.

Great. 1 billion people around the world inhaling that image of Black folks. Great. My fourth-grade nephew that puts foil in his mouth to make a grill for himself is probably psyched...

I don't think there's someone Black living next door to the average Japanese family to put Three-6 Mafia into perspective. Do people around the world understand that all African-Americans are not the same? Hmm...

While you contemplate that question, how about this one: Is there someone Black living next door to the average American, so that Mr. and Mrs. Red State (or Blue State) can put Three-6-Mafia into perspective? If they do live next door to each other, do they have each other over for dinner? Do watch each other's kids?

But I digress. You see, I am trying not to think about the wack performance of "It's Hard Out Here For A Pimp", featuring the worst modern dance interpretation ever. The 666 Mafia boys bobbed around on stage using typical rap-song-performance gesturing, and lo and behold, these modern dancers start gyrating and twirling around. I guess the men were supposed to be the pimps since they had on Hustle and Flow's main character Djay's ubiquitous pimp "wife-beater" shirt. The women...well, they looked like they had gotten dressed after watching "I Love the '80s". Imagine purple hot pants with black capri leggings and a yellow bra top. Oh, and they had Bananarama's hair, circa the "Cruel Summer" video. When's the last time you saw some ho's on the corner dressed like that? I tell you, come over to Figueroa and 111th St. and see if they look like the Oscar's version. (I'll tell you a secret: They don't!)

Queen Latifah announced Three-6-Mafia had won with such enthusiasm that you might have thought she'd just read that Jesus was in the audience. These guys come bouncing out on stage, full of excitement. Cooning, it used to be called.

One of the things I LOVE about Dave Chappelle is that he knows the difference between what he calls "job interview" voice and "The Street" voice. My Carver Elementary principal, Mrs. Woods, often told the kids this as well. "Boys and girls, there is a difference between the kind of language you speak on the playground and the kind of language you need to speak in the classroom." And that was all okay.

I was pretty curious what they would say in their acceptance speech. I was PRAYING that Three-6-Mafia would get out there and bust out their best proper English, showing the world that they are articulate Black men, not just the stereotype the world sees. My prayers were not answered.

They talked all at once. unowha'msayin? The grillz made it sound like they had speech impediments. Let me get real bourgeois on you and say that they sounded like they've never had any education...which could be true given the state of our nation's education system.

Please don't think I'm only picking on Three-6-Mafia. I could go on for days about how Reese Witherspoon's speech was stupid. I get tired of that, "I'm just a little girl from Tennessee" crap. Yeah, right, you rich, blond, mansion-living heffa. I don't think she's been that little girl for a long, long time.

Reese's speech about just trying to matter might have been annoying but at least I could make out what she was saying.

And, I didn't throw things at the tv after she walked off stage...

Just Give Me A Pain That I'm Used To

Guess who I'm going to see in Las Vegas on April 30th?!!!

Hollywood, We Have A Trend!

Why am I reading about folks feeling so surprised, and more than a little bit embarrassed, that Best Song Nominee, "It's Hard Out Here For A Pimp" will be performed in less than two days by Three 6 Mafia at the Oscars?

One of the young members of this group of African-American devil worshipers, (three sixes does equal 666) Jordon "Juicy J" Houston proclaimed: "They didn't even have to tell us. As soon as they asked us to perform it, we ran into the studio and did a rewrite. It's gonna be a strong, clean, positive performance. " Uh-huh.

If it's so clean, strong and positive, why is Eva Longoria claiming in Britain's Mirror newspaper that Sidney Poitier, Denzel Washington and Will Smith had a few words for Best Actor nominee, Terrence Howard? According to Longoria, Poitier didn't want Howard to perform the song, telling him, "Do not get up there and represent the African American community singing about a pimp."

Let's take a journey with the Black Ghosts of Oscar's Past. Here's a look back at some of the Black winners for Best Song:

• Did anyone feel the race might be embarrassed and the future of Black actors jeopardized in 1986 when Lionel Richie won for Say You Say Me from the movie "White Nights?" I'm certain he probably had to go back to the studio to edit the F-Bomb out of the song and come up with some Oscar-friendly lyrics.
• Stevie Wonder won in 1985 for I Just Called To Say I Love You from "The Woman in Red." All these years, Stevie has been hiding the fact that the real title of the song is B****, I Just Called To Say F**K You.
• "Flashdance" was a hot movie and What A Feeling by Irene Cara in 1983 was the song! How inspiring...listening to it just made my 11-year-old self feel like I could do anything. Will children listening to It's Hard Out Here For A Pimp feel the same??
• Issac Hayes winning for Theme For Shaft in 1972. Now, when I think about this one, it probably was a slap in Black Power Movement's face that this song won. Shaft was 1972's version of the Big Black Buck stereotype. Fast forward 33 years and in 2005, the Shaft song seems pretty tame.

I've seen so many articles this week proclaiming that the F-word, S-word and N-word are going to be left out of the performance (but the B-word is ok according to the Academy and network censors) so I'm supposed to feel perfectly relaxed about this. Hello world, in 2005, the most important thing to happen wasn't stupid-a$$ "Hustle and Flow." Or Brokeback Mountain for that matter.

Why this song? And why this song now? In case you forgot, in 2005, the rug got rolled back on America's racism and generational poverty. Have you already forgotten having your tv glued to CNN while watching folks cling to their rooftops? People are still in the most dire of circumstances due to Hurricane Katrina, and our nation's duplicity and hypocrisy in the aftermath. Given this, I'm supposed to be proud that Three 6 Mafia is performing at the Oscars? What are they going to do? Give a shout out to all the victims of Katrina? "Sorry things are still messed up, seven months later, y'all."

No, in case folks started to wonder if their beliefs about Black America were incorrect, we needed a reminder. Oh Hollywood loves us on the big screen, as long as we stick to certain roles. We are a ho, a pimp, a trick, a slave, a hustler, a gangsta, a gangsta-bitch, a criminal, an athlete, a drug addict, mammy, tragic mulatto, a sell-out, an Uncle Tom, or the Magical Savior/Teacher sent to spice up life and enlighten the white folks. If we play any those roles, we might be Oscar material. Just like you didn't see Denzel get nominated for a Best Actor Oscar for "Malcolm X", you didn't see Terrence Howard get nominated for "Crash."

• Hattie MacDaniel gave us a performance as everyone's favorite mammy in "Gone With the Wind". She won Best-Supporting Actress and probably never wanted to hear the name Scarlett ever again.
  
  
• Sydney Poitier won Best Actor for "Lilies of the Field". I've never seen this one so I can't comment.
• Lou Gossett Jr. won Best Supporting Actor for "An Officer and a Gentleman" - I had to find this out online. This is another one I've never seen and only knew that Richard Gere and Debra Winger starred in it. Now, isn't that interesting?
• Denzel Washington won Best Supporting Actor because he took the beating of a lifetime playing a slave/soldier in "Glory".
• Cuba Gooding Jr. showed us the money in "Jerry Maguire". He won BSA and got up on stage and acted like a fool.
• Whoopi Goldberg saw spirits in "Ghost" and won for Best Supporting Actress. Okaay.
• Denzel played a thinly veiled version of criminal cop Rafael Perez, star of Los Angeles' Rampart Police Scandal .
• Halle Berry bared it ALL in "Monster's Ball". I'm still shocked by that one because no one told me it was coming. I remember watching what was happening on screen and thinking, "Oh NO, Halle! Oh, I know you are not...dang it, you sure are." Then she got up there and cried and told everyone it was for Dorothy Dandrige.
• Jamie Fox won for Ray. I didn't see it because I'm not a Ray Charles fan. Wasn't Ray a drug addict? A HUGE drug addict? I think Jamie was probably better in "Collateral" - but of course, he didn't win for that.

Now we're right back at the same-ole-same-ole with Terrence Howard being nominated for his role as Djay in "Hustle and Flow."

If Terrence wins, will he get up there and shout out the makers of "Pimps Up Hos Down" for their original groundbreaking work and research regarding the true stories of pimps with hearts of gold? Will he say, "Bishop Don Juan, I know you've had struggles we can't even imagine."

I don't even want to think about that. Please join me in sincerely hoping Terrence and that sad pimp song both go home empty-handed.