Grateful To Be Considered A Thinking Blogger

Earlier this week, the blogger famously known as Heart In San Francisco was kind enough to bestow upon me the Thinking Blogger Award. I wish I could give it back to her for her incredibly thought-provoking blog, Guilty With An Explanation, but someone else has already given her this well-deserved kudos.

Can I just say that I love the little award banner? I might have to print it out and glue it to my forehead so when I look in the mirror I'll be able to see it reflected back at me.

Sigh.

It's been the kind of day where I am grateful to remember that there are people on this planet who really think what I write or say makes a difference in a good sense. But you know, sometimes I'm not so sure that the thoughts I put out there are always a positive energy. Sometimes I think about the things I've written and I'm astounded by how off-base some of my ideas are...probably some of you who come here are provoked into thought because some of my ideas or experiences are a bit...I don't want to say dumb, so I'll just say underdeveloped.

Most important though, I'm learning something new every day though as I read your blogs, so I'll share five that always make me think. (This is just the week for memes, isn't it?) So here are the rules:

1. If tagged, you must write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think.
2. Link to the original post, so that people can find the originator.
3. Optional: Display the Thinking Blogger Award with a link to the post that you wrote about it.
4. Tag 5 others whose blogs make you think.

Well, really, you all make me think on some level, and if I have a link to you, well then clearly I like coming by your site every chance I can...which is why I'm not so happy when I don't have time to visit like I want to. And, this meme...it feels a little like, "I know you have two children, but in this scenario, you can only save one of them."

Oh well. If I have to pick five, then five it is:

1) Beyond The Picture by my dear sister, Leili. Sure, I'm biased enough to think her blog's da bomb if only because she was the Mistress of Ceremonies at my wedding. Yet, bias isn't the whole story. I've admired Leili for so many reasons over the past fifteen years that I've been privileged to know her, and I think if you pop over to her space, you'll start to get a feeling for why she's so special. She's a talented thinker, writer, filmmaker, website designer, musician, painter, pottery maker, photographer and public speaker...and in a world so filled with hurting souls that lash out angrily at others, I find myself appreciating her ability to create and reflect the beauty around her even more than I ever have.

2) The Last Noel by Noel Alumit. Noel is the author of two thought-provoking and heart-tugging books and is currently working on his third. He reminds me that writing is something that you have to work at and that a book isn't going to happen by itself. After years of wanting to do so, I finally took a writing class last spring through UCLA Extension, "Intro to Fiction Writing". Noel was the instructor and I'm eternally grateful that I lucked out and got him. He's so encouraging and he knew his stuff. I needed that encouragement along with the technical know-how because I was certainly at a place where I felt so unconfident about almost everything in my life. I felt like I'd been through a train wreck and the only way to get better at all was to write. I'm positive that many of the things I wrote for that class were truly literary garbage, but he was skillful enough to give feedback and foster other's giving feedback without ever making me feel like I, for lack of a better word, sucked. When I visit his blog, it's a reminder that I need to keep writing. Without the writing, I'm miserable.

3) Questioning Semantics by West. I like blogs where the author writes about a wide range of topics. West shares his thoughts about everything from comics and politics to education and youth and how we sometimes block good things from happening by not being open to them. Some days he's writing about race and on others, he's writing about noise cancelling headphones. I like to read his posts because you always get the sense that West is undeniably a good man with a good heart, and that he's devoted to his family. As some of us say, "He's good people." His goodness and thoughtfulness is really endearing.

4) Our Kind Of Parenting by Mrs. J. It's so nice to read the experiences of another black woman who is trying to raise her kids to be...well, to be beyond her wildest dreams. Mrs. J has three children, and two of hers are twins. She is so happy to be a mommy to her children and her blog always makes me think about how much I love being a mother and what a weighty responsibility it is to be a good mother. I read her blog and reflect on how similar or different our experiences are as mothers and I think about how for so many years I didn't want to have children.

I remember how when I was thirteen, my brother's first child came to live with us. She was nine months old. I hated going to the mall with my mom and my baby niece because my mom would eventually say, "Oh, I'm just going to run into Gantos. Stay out here with the baby." I'd be left outside the store with this squalling baby in a baby carriage, and I know people were looking at me going, "Tsk Tsk. Another black teenage mom." So, I didn't want to have children because I thought people would always just assume I was a single mom and would put tons of negative stereotypes on me as a result. Whew, I'm glad I got over that and I'm glad that Mrs. J is doing her thing for her lovely family.

5) Any Given Sundry by Sundry. A photo a day. I don't know if I could stick to taking and posting a photo a day, and then, on top of that, writing the thoughts inspired by the photo. Sundry does just that and she's able to capture such lovely images of her life and the world around her that I often ask myself, "Do I exist in the same LA County that she does?" I also admire that she's created little rituals for herself like eating in the same cafes and getting together with a writing group. Every time I visit her blog, I start to think about how important it is to do those things.

Well, that's five.

If I highlighted your blog, I know you may not want to do this meme or put the Thinking Blogger Award on your site. That's OK. Still, I want to give you your props where props are due and say thank you for putting the effort into your blogs. You all make my life and the lives of other bloggers a bit brighter.

Only Seven? How Can I Choose?

I love music so it's a true pleasure to be tagged by DJ Black Adam! The rules for this one:

List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what they are. They must be songs you are presently enjoying. Then tag seven other people to see what they’re listening to.

Easy enough, but how can I choose only seven songs?

1) "Buckets" by Alland Byallo.
I've always been a sucker for a great tech-house tune and "Buckets" is what I'm rocking right now. Click on the link and you'll get taken to Alland Byallo's MySpace page where you too listen in on what I'm bobbing my head to in the car, in the gym and while I'm writing this right now. Yeah, this track is HOT!

There's no vocal, just some bass and futuristic elements that all add up to making me feel like it's 1995 and I'm dancing I'm in the VIP room of Chicago's best nightclub ever, Shelter. Sadly enough, Shelter's closed and turned into condos, but ain't that how everything is nowadays? Alland is originally from LA but now lives in San Francisco so I'm sure he knows a thing or two about ridiculous gentrification and housing prices. All I can say is if he keeps churning out burners like this, he could be paying for a house by remixing Madonna or Depeche Mode one day.

2) The Interview by AFI.
"For a change, I'll refrain from hiding all of me from you. Pray for rain. Lose your name. And watch all your dreams fall through."

Aww...lead singer Davey Havok's (he's second from the left with the tattoo sleeves) voice on this A Fire Inside track just causes me get a little teary-eyed every single time I take a listen. If you know AFI, you may be thinking this song's going to be some crazy fast punk tune. It's not. It's a ballad and I'll be the first to admit it, this ain't a particularly happy song. Still, I fell in serious love with "The Interview" last October and our affair has lasted six months. It's my second most played song on my iTunes. 622 plays. This is a sitting on the couch and contemplating all sorts of heartbreak kind of song. If you click on the link, just know that that's not an official AFI video. It's the song superimposed over imagery from other AFI videos, but you'll at least be able to hear what it sounds like.

3) Sunday Morning by K-OS.
"Cause everyday is Saturday night...but I can't wait for Sunday morning."

I was just writing about this song on my other blog so I won't repeat all that I said there over here in this space but man oh man, I'm feeling this song! I only heard it for the first time on Sunday night and it's in heavy rotation. It makes me think about how I really do love my Sunday mornings. I never work on Sunday mornings. I spend time by myself. I'm up before anyone else in my family and off to the gym or walking the hills around my house. Then I go to Coffee Bean to get my Jasmine Dragon Phoenix Pearl tea...and then to Trader Joe's. Yeah, this song is so happy and upbeat and it totally reflects my Sunday morning mood.

4) Maniac by Michael Sembello
"She's a maniac, maniac, I sure know. And she's dancing like she's never danced before."

I think my husband is probably a little sick of me dancing around at seven in the morning with "Maniac" on full blast. I can't help it! This song really gets me going. It's from the Flashdance soundtrack. I finally saw Flashdance for the first time a few weeks ago when it came on tv. The film was absolutely nothing to write home about (and who knew strippers really are repressed professional dancers) but I was reminded of how much I liked this song. I remember my mom liked this song too and bought the 45 for it back in the day. A teenage me that used to dance around the house to "Maniac" all those years ago only dreamed of living in Los Angeles. Who says dreams don't come true?

5) Lithium by Evanescence.
"Lithium, don't want to lock me up inside. Lithium, don't want to forget how it feels without...Lithium, stay in love with my sorrow. I'm gonna let it go."

A rock song about bi-polar disorder? It would seem to be so. All I knew about lithium before this song was that batteries made out of it last a really long time. My mom was actually the one who told me that lithium is used to treat bi-polar disorder because it helps folks balance both the manic episodes and the depression. I give major props to Evanescence for singing about real issues in their music...and I love Amy Lee a whole lot. It's nice to see a fly female singer that's fully dressed.

6) Give Me Tonight by Shannon.
"Give me tonight, then if you don't wanna stay, girl I'll just forget you. You'll see I'm right. You won't get to go away. Love ain't gonna let you."

You probably remember "Let the Music Play" by Shannon. I always liked "Give Me Tonight" better. I was really into freestyle dance music back in high school. This song totally reminds me of being fifteen and wearing really bright red lipstick every single day. My hair was also moussed and curled so that it stood four inches off my head and it was a red-orange color due to my regularly pouring hydrogen peroxide over it. Yes, I loved the '80s. If you want to dance in your seat, click on the link and watch Shannon's video for this song. Girl was rockin' her ish! ;0

7) Freelove by Depeche Mode
"No hidden catch. No strings attached...just freelove."

What seven-song list of mine would be complete without the musical artists that hold my heart in the palms of their hands? Last but not least, "Freelove" was Depeche Mode's 38th single, released in 2001 off the Exciter album. Although Exciter isn't my favorite Depeche Mode album, I adore this song.

I've listened to this song more than any other song in the past week, past six months, maybe more than any song in the past year. I like to write while listening to it. I like to drive to it. When I can't sleep, it helps me relax. The lyrics combined with the romantic, hopeful, stripped down emotion...I suppose it just takes me someplace else.

When I went to New Orleans, I kept thinking about how the video for this song was shot there. (Click on the link above to watch it.) Oh how I wish people there were getting help with no hidden catches and no strings attached.

Now, to pass it along, I'm tagging the following folks:

• Chas the Bridge.
  
• Ladies Love TK
• Mamita Umita
• If I Only Had A Blog
• Moontopples
• Our Kind of Parenting
• The Local Paper
  

And if you haven't been to their sites, you should go say hey! Special thanks to DJ Black Adam for tagging me. I had fun with this.

Insomniacs And Their Overactive Imaginations

I can't sleep. And no, counting sheep is not going to help me.

It's not for lack of trying. But at some point, I just ixnay on the lying in bed in the dark thing and get back up. Sooo...now it's almost one in the morning and I'm listening to the Dave Dresden remix of Dave Spoon & Bill Hicks' "I Love Everything At Night". It's a little trancy and a little bit techno...and dang it, how apt is this song title right now?

Actually, I think that's part of the problem. I do love everything at night just a tad bit too much. I never wanted to go to bed as a child. In fact, I find myself thinking about how when I was a little girl, I really wanted to be a vampire. Yes, I know, it sounds crazy to want to be a vampire, but believe me, I did. Some of y'all wanted to be Barbie or Batman...same difference! (well, sorta!)

You see, one of my favorite movies when I was a kid was Love At First Bite, the vampire movie spoof where George Hamilton is Dracula and he moves to New York City and falls in love with Susan Saint James. She falls for him too and they turn into bats and fly into the moonlight together. I was six when it came out so it probably came on TV a couple of years later and I know that's when I saw it. Dracula wasn't scary at all. I mean, he was being played by George Hamilton so how fiendish could he possibly be? Well, fiendishly handsome but there was no hint of Dracula being a monster. In fact, he's the "hero" of the story.

Now, here's where you're going to think that I was one crazy kid: I used to go in my room in the afternoon, pull down the room-darkening shades my mom had put over the windows and lie prone on my bed, my arms crossed across my chest... just like a vampire in it's coffin. My sister would occasionally walk into our shared bedroom and, full of malicious intent, she'd pull the shades so they'd flick open with this horrific snapping sound. Light would instantaneously flood our bedroom. I can remember moments where I believed the sun was going to actually burn me to death. What can I say? I was a kid with a very hyperactive imagination.

I think initially I was into the fact that Dracula had no bedtime. And in the movies vampires are rich, clever and beautiful. Even after I saw Nosferatu and Fright Night, and it became crystal clear that Dracula was not always a hot guy who just happened to have fangs, the whole Vampire thing still fascinated me. I may have stopped wanting to be a vampire (thank goodness) but I was still into the lore and the legend. I suppose that's why I've read Dracula 218 times in the past twenty years.

Given all my interest, you might be wondering if I believe in vampires. Hmm. Well, I don't think vampires are those crazy folks you see on Dateline NBC that drink each other's blood and go to the dentist to elongate their canine teeth. Those folks are just confused.

Nowadays, I find myself thinking about how we've all met someone who tries so hard to latch on to us, and then just ends up trying to suck the life out of us. You know what kind of person I'm talking about, right? It's the person you've determined is toxic to your emotional, social and spiritual health. Well, to me, that person's a vampire. Really, isn't that the worst? Don't you wish you had some holy water to just toss on that person who's trying to sink their teeth into you? Don't you wish the sun would turn them to ash or make them run for cover? I know I do.

Ok, I'm going to give the sleep thing another try. Maybe if I do a little more pretending and lie down in my bed like I used to back in the day, arms crossed in an X across my chest, I'll be distracted from all the things I'm thinking about and actually go to sleep.

Sunrise, Sunset,...And Finally... Naw Ruz!

Did you spend the last 19 days getting up before dawn to chug water?

Did you learn that it's better to eat protein in the morning instead of a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios?

Were you praying at around 3 in the afternoon, asking God to PLEASE remove the smell of microwave popcorn from your vicinity?

Were you ready to pass out when your colleague came over to your desk with the popcorn and said, "You want some of this? It's kettle corn popcorn. It's delish!"

If you answered yes to any of those questions, you just might be a Baha'i, and you are probably celebrating the end of the Baha'i month of fasting and the fact that today is Baha'i New Year...or Naw Ruz as we call it.

If you have no idea what the heck I'm talking about, that's ok. The long and short of it is that the last month of the Baha'i calendar, March 2-20th, is a fast. What does that mean, you ask? Well, for 19 days, Baha'is over the age of 15 don't eat or drink between sunrise and sunset. Yes, that means no food or water during the day. No midday soy chai lattes with a shot of sugar-free vanilla.

Of course, anyone who's pregnant, nursing a baby, sick, over the age of 70, travelling or working at a job that requires really heavy labor (more than pushing the green button on the copier), is exempt from fasting. While I was travelling to New Orleans I was exempt, but the rest of the time, I was pretty hungry and pretty cranky at around 3 in the afternoon. And at 4. And 5...after the time change, I was a bit annoyed that sunset didn't happen till like 7 pm.

Every year, I talk to quite a few other Baha'is who tell me how the just LOVE fasting and it's their favorite time of year. I am not one of those people and I don't know if I ever will be. Fasting is a really hard thing for me to do. I don't know if it's because deep down I'm super individualistic and I think I deserve to have what I want when I want it, regardless of the consequences for anyone else. I don't know if I lack discipline and so when I do fast, I mentally rebel. I don't know but I find that I can only write about it now that it's over. I guess I just didn't want to whine about wanting to kill whoever made the microwave popcorn.

If I don't really enjoy it, why fast at all? Well because it's not really about the food. Or at least, half of it's not about food...and that's the half that I actually do like. You see, it's equally about prayer and meditation and becoming reacquainted with where I am spiritually. It's about being less selfish and less focused on all the materialistic aspects of the world. Fasting made me pay attention to what I was doing, raised my consciousness of how I was spending my time, what I was thinking about, what was going on in the world and what I need to be doing to be a positive force for change instead of a lethargic complainer.

Plus, it's really an interesting exercise in resisting temptation. The funny thing is that there was many a night where sunset came and suddenly, I wasn't hungry anymore. I wondered if it was because I could eat. During the day, I had to ask myself, can I really turn down that awesome smelling popcorn just because my religious beliefs tell me that I should? For me, the answer is yes. I know there are some folks out there that think that's silly. But, I just don't think that God is for dummies. I have to believe in more than myself and Paris Hilton's dumb behind.

In any case, now it's all done. It's Baha'i New Year and believe me, I was PSYCHED to go to Starbucks today at 12:30 in the afternoon and get my chai. Whoo hoo! And, I have another chance to make some New Year's resolutions!

To everyone out there, Happy Naw Ruz from yours truly.

These Are My (Pop-Culture) Confessions

I came home tonight and caught the tail end of Access Hollywood (or was it Extra?). In any case, Billy Bush was going on and on about Angelina Jolie's newest adopted child. They had some psychiatrist on the show talking about how the biggest issue the kid will have is getting used to dealing with the paparazzi. I told my husband that I didn't think I could deal with being a celebrity and having a media frenzy wherever I went. He said he wouldn't mind if he had enough money to live comfortably. We debated that for a bit and I stuck to my side of the coin.

For one, I don't think I could pass the fashionista litmus test. I wear too much black and I like to dress down more than I enjoy dressing up. I'd be on the "Needs a new stylist" list every week. Mr. Blackwell would roast me from here to eternity.

Bigger than that though is that I don't think I could deal with being unable to watch people because of them being too busy watching me. I got to thinking about how we're all just a bit too obsessed with pop culture. I'll bet more people in America knew Heather Mills was going to be on Dancing With the Stars tonight than knew that today is the is 4th anniversary of our little Iraq exploits.

But, I'm not a hypocrite so I have to come clean about my own little pop-culture issues. Although confession of sins is not allowed in my religious tradition, I figure that confessing my pop culture obsessions could be a good thing. Perhaps if I believe, like they say in AA, that the first step is admitting the problem, I'll be able to convince my husband to put down the copy of US Weekly that I bought at the Dallas airport on Friday night. He's sitting in bed right next to me, reading about celebrity drug addictions. He just said, "These people are sick!" but he hasn't chucked it into the trash. So, you wanna know:

1. I buy a copy of US Weekly or Star magazine at least once a month. Now, I know that gossip kills the soul of the person being talked about and the person doing the talking. BUT, I get sucked into the stories and before you know it, I'm reading, "Stars. They're just like us." Um, no they're not. I thank the heavens for rent control. They are considering moving to Malibu.
2. Celebrity gossip sites: I used to read Defamer religiously. Now I just check out Popsugar. I found that sites like Defamer and The Superficial had these mean, snarky commentators and I didn't like that.
3. I don't schedule anything on Mondays at 9 pm because I'm obsessed with the show "Heroes". It's on hiatus now and my Monday nights are relatively boring as a result.
4. I like to watch America's Next Top Model. I don't catch it every week but I like to watch it. Except that Ms. J is so annoying and I don't think his/her walk is really all that.
5. I visit Orlando Bloom and Depeche Mode fansites. I even leave comments on the Depeche Mode message boards. I know obscure facts that the average person that buys a DM cd doesn't know. Do these random facts help me in the real world? THAT remains to be seen.
   
6. Sometimes I watch The Real World. I know...it's a bunch of drinking, whoring and arguing. It's the proverbial train wreck. Why don't I just click it off?
   
   I'll leave it at six "problems". And, let me take a moment to remind myself (and you) that I'm not all bad.
   
   My saving graces:

1. I've never seen Grey's Anatomy or Desperate Housewives. Based on the advertisements for Grey's , I now know how the spread of venereal diseases happens so quickly.
   
2. I've only watched American Idol twice. First season. And I have no idea who's on this season. Don't care either....but I do sorta like Kelly Clarkson.
   
3. I've only seen Dancing With the Stars twice. Once was tonight and I only watched because I wanted to see the trailer for Pirates of the Carribean: At World's End. The trailer came on an hour and 22 minutes into the program. Waay too long to wait for that. Then, I left it on to watch Heather Mills dance. She was pretty awful and I hope she gets the boot despite her fake leg.

I'm really wondering, why do we all get so obsessed with pop culture? Is it a conspiracy to distract us from what's really going on in the world? And, what are your pop-culture confessions?

Heritage

I'm back home in Los Angeles but I haven't yet given up on the New Orleans spirit. I came home and rocked my green and white beads all day Saturday in honor of St. Patrick's Day. My little boys were happy to wear some beads too. My husband refused.

"Oh, that's ok. I'm not Irish," he said.

Technically, I'm not Irish either. I'm half Irish-American.

It's funny though, I have a whole lot of pride about that Irish heritage. Some people might think it's because I'm trying to identify more with the white side of my heritage instead of the black side. I think it's more that I don't know a whole lot about my black ancestry. With the Irish side, I know what boat my ancestors took over here, what year they got here, where they settled, what their names were.

Do I know any of that about the black side of my family? Nope. I couldn't tell you what slave ship carried them, what country they came from (because Africa is a continent, not a country), what plantations they worked on, what they did during Reconstruction...none of it. My black family history begins with my grandmother's father, a man named Green Walker. I should know more than that.

I've always wanted to be one of those folks that take the time to research their family genealogy. One of these days, I'm going to do it. I want to know it all.

Porches

Sitting on the porch is an art that's mostly been lost in Los Angeles. I don't know about your city, but in LA, I rarely see a neighborhood busybody out on her porch, surveying the going-ons of everyone and their mother.
In the past two days in New Orleans, I've fallen in love with the way folks sit out on their porches. Porch size doesn't really matter. It only needs to be big enough for one, maybe two chairs.

I imagine that once upon a time, in an existence not so long ago, some old lady sat on this particular porch in New Orleans' Ninth Ward. She probably admired the wrought iron on her porch railing and gazed up at the proud stature of the old oak trees that once stood everywhere. She probably spoke to her neighbors and inquired about what was going on in their lives. She might have read her Bible on that porch. I'm sure she contemplated all the dreams, desires and disappointments she'd had in her youth. I'd like to think she never got to a place where she accepted that the way things were was the way it would always be.

How could our old lady have known that the levees, merely that concrete wall in the background, would be breached and her home would be destroyed? No fortune teller could have told her that the site of countless conversations and events in life would be reduced to mere remnants. What was once her home, her neighborhood, her heart, is now uninhabitable, a ghost town of epic proportions.

Imagine what you would do if your neighborhood was vibrant and thriving, bustling with both happiness and heartache, and then became this...

I'd like to think that the strength and spirit of the people who once lived in the Ninth Ward lingers even though they're gone.

It makes me wonder, how would I react in the face of such devastation, such adversity? Could I respond with such courage? Could you?

It's Not Good Enough To Just Laissez Les Bons Temps Rouler

It's three in the morning and I'm still trying to sort out everything I've experienced during my first day in New Orleans.

I'll confess that whenever I come to the South, I'm very conscious of the fact that slaves once stood on the same ground I happen to be walking on. I got off the plane and was immediately confronted with "Tour a Plantation!" advertisements. I wondered, do they show it all? Do they show the fields and the slave quarters? Do they show whipping posts and slave cemeteries? Do they explicitly discuss slavery on these tours? (I've heard they don't) or is it just a ride through the glory days of the Old South, when everything was much simpler and Negroes knew their place? And is there a moment of silence where we honor the memories of the countless souls that suffered unspeakable horrors?

For me, I see the word "plantation" and I think of whips and chains and scenes that were first visualized for me while watching the mini-series Roots. I think of blood flowing down scarred backs. I think of those backs broken from bending over in cotton fields and hands raw with the pain of picking.

Other people are not thinking of these things. They're thinking of sipping mint juleps on a spacious porch.

And, I wonder, who exactly buys these postcards? I found them in a store a couple of blocks away from my hotel. I don't think black people are the ones trying to hold on to precious memories of "Mammy". To the chagrin of the sales clerk, I snapped photos of Mammy-Ann and her gens de coulers. While I'm marinating on this image, let me go ahead and thank God right now that I still have an aversion to Aunt Jemima pancake mix, Mrs. Butterworth's syrup and Uncle Ben's rice, if only because of the resemblance to images like these.

A walk down Bourbon Street feels a little bit like, bar-bar-strip club-souvenir shop, repeated a dozen times. It feels like a fantasy land for the seven deadly sins. The smell of stale vomit laces the air and absolutely nothing feels forbidden. Oh, and let's not forget the black children out tap-dancing with the crowds of white folks standing around watching. I'm terrible, I know, but I think they're thinking, "Just look at those pickaninnies move!"

Yes, what I saw last night... it's like being Luke Skywalker and going over to the "dark side".

The most puzzling thing for me was that other than cooks in the kitchen and these kids, where are the black people? You know, the ones that probably let Harry Connick Jr. play horsey on their backs and taught him about jazz? Um, I'm in New Orleans and I feel like I stick out like a sore thumb. I feel like I see more black folks at home in Los Angeles.

But, not all the black people are gone. All the craziness I saw on a Sunday night on Bourbon Street, and the only person I saw getting arrested was this brotha right here.

I wish I would have snapped photos of all the middle-aged married men getting their freak on while dressed in their Dockers flat-front khakis and polo shirts. I'm sure their wives would love to see images of their "faithful" spouses walking into the strip clubs, wedding rings glinting faintly in the dimness.

If I just stayed here on the edge of the French Quarter, I might start to think that nothing's wrong in this city, that it's back to it's normal self. After all, look at all the people throwing beads off the balconies and letting the good times roll.

Sure, it's fun to do the electric slide in the middle of the street. Yes, I had a great time wearing a cat-mask without anyone batting an eye. But, it's not good enough. It can't stop there. If all the revelers venture beyond hedonism-central, what does the rest of New Orleans look like? And do these people happily tossing beads care or even want to know?

One of my colleagues, James, taught here and yesterday he went to the neighborhood where his school is. Or was. He said it's a ghost town. Hopefully tomorrow I'll get to see some of that for myself.

Is There More To Life Than High Gas Prices?

Something wonderful happened to me this morning.

I had the distinct privilege of paying $3.05 for regular unleaded gas at the Mobil down the street on Melrose. I could have gone ahead and splurged on the $3.25 super/premium, but you know I'm struggling to keep my spend-thrift ways in check. I can't get too wild and crazy. Who knows what might happen if I really let myself go at the gas station?

Just kidding. Rewind. We all know there's nothing exciting about gas prices.

Actually, I'm very excited to share with you all that I'm now a columnist for another site called Anti-Racist Parent. This is a site that's dedicated to raising children with an anti-racist outlook, something our society desperately needs. It's run by a company called New Demographic and they're an anti-racist training company. My columnist intro is on there today so go by and check it out. I'll probably contribute over there at least once a month.

I also have to give a special shout-out to Mrs. J. over at Our Kind of Parenting. She recommended me for this and she's a very insightful blogger in her own right so go over and say "hi" on her site as well.

What Do You Dream?

"What do you dream about, Mommy?"

I knew my eldest son was asking me the question, fully expecting that I dream about the same things he does: being Batman and beating the Joker, getting to the end of the Spiderman videogame, and having a pet dog that catches tennis balls.

I don't dream about that stuff.

How do I tell a six year-old that I can sometimes make myself dream about people that I know just by thinking about them very intensely and praying for them before I go to sleep? And in those dreams, I am usually sitting with the person in the gardens around the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York City. All we do is talk, and even though it's a dream, it's as real as anything. Sometimes when I talk to the person again or get an email from them, they are telling me the same things they told me in the dream.

Or, how about my recurring dreams. In one, it's nighttime and I'm walking down the street I grew up on. I'm walking toward the house I grew up in. These very dry, brown leaves are blowing across the sidewalk and the wind is whipping my hair around my head. Then, I get the sense that something is behind me and it's not friendly. I start running and the rest of the dream feels like I'm in a foot race through every single neighborhood I've ever lived in. I slide through holes in fences in Chicago, leap over abandoned bicycles in China and scramble across the tops of cars in LA.

Most adults I know say they don't remember their dreams. Maybe we forget them because they're more complicated than dreaming about a pet dog. I fully believe that dreams are a connection to our souls, the conversation our mind has with our soul.

Maybe we "forget" the dreams because it's too hard to face our true selves.

Gluten-Free Waffles

Is it Wednesday already?

It doesn't seem like it should be. It feels like it should be Friday again. I've been so busy that for three days, I haven't read anybody else's blogs, haven't read the news websites I usually check out and I haven't cracked open the book I'm supposed to be reading, The Mandarins by Simone de Beauvoir. I actually don't know where the book is. Maybe it's under my bed?

I haven't talked to my friends. We're busy trading voicemails. I haven't talked to my sister and I normally talk to her every day. I wanted to call her yesterday but I got home from work at around 10 pm, ate an organic, gluten-free waffle for "dinner" and then fell asleep on the couch about fifteen minutes into Law and Order.

I'm a little stressed out and I wonder if it shows. I wonder if I make faces like hers. I've driven by this image almost every day for the past seven years. She's painted on the side of a downtown parking structure, adjacent to the northbound 110 Freeway. On the days the traffic is actually moving, I don't notice her because I'm too busy getting from Point A to Point B.

Then there are days like yesterday and Monday, days when the traffic barely crawls. Days when I can safely dig my camera out and take several shots of her. These days are the days I wonder, "Why are you making that face?"

Is she wishing she could get out of that green dress and throw on some jeans? Is she feeling overworked and underpaid? Is she trying to emulate the mysterious smile of the Mona Lisa? Is she thinking about what's next in life? Does she want to crack her violin over someone's head? No, maybe not. She's probably just thinking about the fact that there's no longer a classical music station in LA. Yes, to my dismay, K-Mozart is now playing country tunes.

Or maybe she just ate a gluten-free waffle too?

A Rarity

Yesterday, I saw things that I almost never see in Los Angeles. No, not concrete freeways and not the BMW in this picture. I see both of those all the time.

Look past the car, past the concrete, above the overpass...what do you see there?

"Just some mountains," you say?

Well, let me tell you, I drive home on the northbound 110 Freeway every day and I rarely see those mountains. It was so clear in Los Angeles yesterday that it was an event worth talking about. Everyone I spoke to was exclaiming, "Wow, can you believe how clear it is?" Yeah, who knew those mountains were there. It was so pretty that I found myself thinking about what the original group of thirteen that founded Los Angeles over 300 years ago must have seen.

Yes, it was so clear that I could see downtown LA from Compton, eleven miles to the south. That NEVER happens. Usually, I can't see downtown until I'm two or three miles away. And then, for those of you who want it all, you want to ski in the morning and go to the beach in the afternoon...I could see snow capped mountains to the east. I could see the mountains in this photo from Watts. I took it while standing on the playground of a school. You all should have seen the kids pointing at the mountains and the snow. I overheard one kindergartener ask another, "Where did those mountains come from?" The other replied, "What's that on top of them?"

What do we usually see instead? Why, absolutely nothing but some pinkish-brown haze in the sky. I like to say that haze is just some fog that hasn't burned off yet. Except that I see that haze almost every single day, no matter what time of day it is. I guess I need to tack an "S" and an "M" onto the beginning of "fog" and get rid of that pesky "F". I think we all know what that spells, right?

If you follow the news at all, you know that Al Gore's documentary An Inconvenient Truth won a well-deserved Oscar this past Sunday. I saw it last May, almost a year ago, and wrote about it here. Everybody thinks it's a great film but we all still want the magic pill to make the smog go away.

I wonder if LA will every reclaim her true beauty. I wonder if twenty years from now, folks like me will still be snapping pictures of sights like this, sights they rarely see.