Construction Time Again

Day two of "Operation Change My Blog Template" has commenced.

Will today be the day I manage to finally build the blog template I want? Can I make XML bend to my will or will it defeat me?

Stay tuned for the epic battle of:

Girl With Outrageously Expensive Graduate Degree
From Ivy League Institution

-versus-

The Extensible Markup Language Death Squad

Clearly I need to call in some reinforcements to deal with that pesky death squad.

Barack Obama is in town so maybe I can ring up his people and see if he has a second to come over and tell me why my widgets won't work on my template. I mean, Barack does want my vote, right?

If he tells me, "No, I have no time for you! I'm getting ready for a debate tonight and besides, I only have time for celebs like George Clooney and Scarlett Johannsen," guess what? I might have to ring up...

Hmm... Thinking. Thinking...

Who else can I call? John Edwards dropped out so I can't call him. That's a shame too since we are a union household and the mailbox has been stuffed with mailers supporting him. He would've felt obligated to come over and help me.

Racking my brain here! Britney Spears is unavailable since she got, uh, put on psychiatric hold this morning. Can't believe the police were referring to her as "The Package"! Unreal!

But yeah, "The Package" is over in the psych ward at UCLA and besides I'm not really sure if she even knows what XML is. She might think it's some sort of cute new form of illegal substance and we said no to drugs back in the days of Nancy Reagan.

I know! I'll call up Depeche Mode and ask them to come over!

Those boys are geniuses! They know how to operate synthesizers and make music on a Mac so clearly they must know about XML! Besides, their third album is called "Construction Time Again" so that has to be a good sign.

I know, I have issues...and I needed a little excuse to talk about Depeche Mode today. In case you didn't know, I'm obsessed. And I need to make myself laugh because I had a pity party last night where I found myself thinking, "How many degrees do I have and I can't fix a stupid blog template!"

But now I'm over it. Sorry to be making changes to the template during the daytime when you are trying to read this, but I fell asleep last night before I could change anything else.

Now let me go don my blog template battle gear!

Still in Progress

I know you know I'm not leaving my blog like this! If you want to see what the new template was supposed to look like, click here.

Oh, it was going to be sooo cute but every time I changed something in my widgets, it would wig out. But never fear, I'm building a new one from scratch.

Wish me luck.

And wow, Edwards and Guiliani quit today? Wowzers.

It Was Time For A New Look

Instead of chopping off all my hair last night, I changed my blog.

If this is your first time here, you have no idea how this space used to look. But if you're returning to my fine and dandy piece of real estate on Blog Planet, for a second there, you may have wondered if you'd clicked on the correct link.

Looks different, doesn't it? And if all you see is a bunch of yellow, that's one of the glitches I have to work out. It's not supposed to look like that!

Change is a scary thing sometimes, but it was just time to put the lighthouse template out of it's misery. I was chatting online with one of my friends a few hours ago and ran an initial "test" of this template past him. He totally called it when he said that the "lighthouse" template was never really me. And truly, I only picked it because it seemed less "ugly" than many of the other ones offered by Blogger when I started this space three years ago.

But this one, these colors, if you come to my house, these are the colors you'll see.

I'll confess, I had a lot of anxiety about changing this spot, not the least of which was a fear that my entire blog would disappear. That fear is no joke, no matter how many times I have this whole thing backed up. So for the past week, I've been doing a whole lot of reading and researching about templates and how to customize them. I know only the most basic HTML, like how to strikethru or bold something, and besides, Blogger Beta is in XML so it's a little bit more challenging to figure out what's what.

I got my feet wet by changing the template on my other blog, the sadly neglected Reading and Listening. When that one didn't completely fall apart, I made a brand new "test" blog to try out this template and experiment with the colors and fonts. The test blog was successful, but I still wasn't completely ready to take the leap. You see, when you switch templates, you lose all your widgets and links. I have a whole lot of you in my link list, and along with all the other tweaking I need to do (because it's still doing weird glitchy things), guess what I get to re-type today?

Uh huh! All the links to your blogs.

Anyway, are you bored yet with all this technical talk?

Yeah, me too. So if you're dying for something more interesting to read other than the play-by-play of changing my blog, head over to Anti-Racist Parent and read the article I wrote for them. It's called "Explaining Michael Jackson". Go check it out but don't go stalking me just because you now know about my last name.

Oh, and I'm only slightly kidding about the hair thing. I had the scissors in hand!

Rain and Racism

After a week of downpours, on Saturday, God once more smiled on Los Angeles.

No, the writer's strike didn't end. We just had a break in the seemingly never ending rain.

I hustled myself outside and took my sons for a five-hour jaunt around the neighborhood.

Yes, I said five hours.

We strolled in a very leisurely manner, saw gargantuan plants, hit up a couple of cafes and visited a few of those trendy boutiques that seem so ubiquitous around here these days.

Can I just say that if you're a boutique owner and you're trying to hawk liquid soap at $24 a bottle, you'd better learn to speak to people when they come in to look around. If I'm in your little shop for over five minutes, there's only one other customer in there besides me, and you can't speak, then guess what? Adios. Sayonara. Buh-bye. I'm not "The Terminator". I won't be back.

Seriously, in case you missed the memo, rents are crazy in LA. So, unless you're a trust-fund baby with money to burn, you better move some product so your shop can stay open.

Anyway, the great thing about walking around is that you can turn a corner and see... the local Jiffy Lube.

No, just kidding. There's nothing too special about that Jiffy Lube except that it's been the subject of one of those local TV news undercover investigations a few times. And yes, they do cheat people.

But forget about lying, cheating, scamming Jiffy Lube. Instead, check out those palm trees, and then those amazing, majestic, snow capped mountains in the background.

That snow's only 25 minutes north of my house. Well, 25 minutes if I don't hit any traffic, which would happen at, oh, I don't know, midnight maybe.

It's with good reason that my eldest asked me, "How come they got snow on the mountains and we don't have any here?"

What could I do but say, "Jesse Jackson won South Carolina in '84 and '88. Jackson ran a good campaign. And Obama ran a good campaign here."

I don't know why the kids seemed so confused by my response. I mean, my seven year-old had the nerve to say, "Mom, why are you bringing up Jesse Jackson when I'm asking you about snow-capped mountains? It seems sort of like you're trying to inject race into a discussion about snow at higher elevations."

Darn that smart boy, but I was careful to tell him that that was not my intention at all and that he's reading into my comments. Gosh, what is this world coming to when even seven year-olds are playing the race card?

I distracted him from his train of thought by telling him we'd go get a new hamster. I suppose I had to keep the promise, and now we have a fat brown hamster named Hannah running around in a cage.

Let that be a warning to all you parents out there that when your child thinks you're being a racist, you end up with a new pet!

**Note: Trust me, I did not really respond like that to my son! I'm just being sarcastic about Bill Clinton's ridiculous comments in response to an unrelated question about Barack Obama. If you click on the link you can watch the entire thing on YouTube, but if you read the comments in the YouTube post, well, you'll see just how much race really does matter in this country.

Sliding Down a Hill Into the Waiting Arms of the Neighborhood Jehovah's Witnesses

Remember that old Tony! Toni! Tone! song, "It Never Rains in Southern California"?



Obviously when the guys wrote the song back in 1990, they hadn't consulted their neighborhood fortune teller because, hello, Southern California got hit by a tornado last night!

I don't care if it's 18 years after the song! If they'd had a really top notch fortune teller, the song should have been able to predict this current disastrous storm! Take away Tony! Toni! Tone!'s cool R&B psychic cards right now!

For those of you who live in other parts of the world where there's rain and snow all time, I'm sure you're saying, "Stop yer whining, you spoiled (but undeniably hot) Angeleno!" But this year marks my 10th anniversary of living in LA so I am entitled to whine all I want!

I mean, the wind killed my umbrella yesterday morning! I loved that umbrella!

You have no sympathy for me? Gosh, how could you be so heartless and evil?

How about this: On top of the umbrella death, I live at the top of a pretty steep hill. I have to walk down that hill to take my kids to and from school, and it's been raining so hard that a river of water is cascading down the hill.

My tennis shoes got soaked during the walk to school in the morning. So before I left the house to go pick my youngest up from pre-k, my smarty-pants self decided to put on some boots. You know, keep my feet warmer and drier. Boots, without heels, I might add!

But STILL disaster struck!

At the steepest point of the incline, I slipped on a plastic bag I couldn't see because of all the water. Damn the slick bottom of those boots. Double damn the LA County Board of Supervisors for refusing to ban plastic bags this past Tuesday!

The mathematical equation looks like this:

Plastic Bag(Boots + Steep Incline + Rushing Water) = Yours Truly Biting the Dust

Er, except it wasn't dust.

What was it?

Use your brains, grasshoppers! When you mix dirt and water together, what do you get?

Cue Jeopardy theme music... Quick!!! Give us the answer!!!

I'll give you a hint: It starts with an "M".

You got it yet?

Oh, good! I'm so proud of you! You figured out that water and dirt together makes... MUD!

Yes, I slid down the hill and, TA-DA!!! I landed in a mud puddle!

My nice black leather boots, my cute jeans, my treasured red coat -- ALL covered in mud.

But the show must go on. Yes, I still had to go to the school to get my child, even if I was covered in all that mud! I was SO embarrassed when my son's teacher pointed out to me, "Uh, you have mud on your face." And you know I was getting the side eye from a few of the other pre-k parents.

I found myself once more wishing I knew Spanish, just so I could say to the parents, "No, I didn't fall over while smoking crack on the way over here. I promise!"

Ugh. I thought the rain related disasters couldn't get any worse after that.

But I was wrong.

On the way home, why in the world were the Jehovah's Witnesses trying to work the neighborhood? Do they figure the really desperate, lost souls only come out during a torrential downpour?

I'm sorry, but when you see me coated in mud, walking with a four year-old and one umbrella (thank you again, Mr. Wind), I know the conventional wisdom may be to think, "She definitely needs Jesus! Let's stop her, try to talk her head off and give her a pamphlet!"

BUT NO! Believe me, it's not a good time! AAGH!!! The only thing I want to accept as my Lord and Savior about right now is the SUN!

Join me now in prayer:

"Oh Sun Deity,

Your humble servant Los Angelista offers you this fervent prayer. Please chase away the dark clouds hovering over my home. Evaporate the liquid moisture making the hill outside so slick and wet. If you do this, I promise to be your sycophant forever and ever."

Just kidding. Put away your Bible, Koran, Aqdas, and Torah. I promise, I'm not that desperate yet. No sun worshiping for me.

Instead, I will go back to listening to the Tony! Toni! Tone! on this Friday afternoon. I'll just change their song title to "It Always Rains in Southern California".

Social Experimentation

Sometimes when I'm out in a cafe, I just zone out in my own little world. Depeche Mode's "Sister of Night" is vibrating in my earphones. I'm tapping away on my keyboard, visualizing what my character, Claire, is wearing, what she's saying, what she's thinking about...and this world just fades away.

But sometimes despite my best efforts, I am not in that zone. And that's when I'm listening to you.

I'm sitting two feet away from you in a cafe with a laptop, in Silver Lake, the home of wanna-be writers, actors, artists, models and rock stars, and you don't think I'm typing down exactly what you're saying?

You caught my attention when you mentioned the name of the university my mother-in-law attended. And so I started to type down your conversation. Every word of it.

I only typed for a few minutes and then I had to stop. I felt an anger surge inside me and I had to shut my laptop and leave before I inserted myself into your conversation and told you what I think about you and your little "experiment".

But here in this space, here's what you said and what I think about it.

Younger White Female: I decided to go to a black school that’s less endowed. People who go to Howard or Hampton are from a different social class than someone who decides to go to a poorer black school.

I wanted to be the minority.

Los Angelista's Thinking: Interesting that she thinks everyone who goes to Howard or Hampton comes from a well-to-do black family. And gosh, I just love it when people decide to "opt in" to being a minority when they can at any time use their privilege and decide to opt out.

Older White Male: A little “Black Like Me” kind of thing?

YWF: Kind of.

OWM: Was it a gentleman’s agreement?

YWF: A what?

OWM: A gentleman's agreement. I mean, did they know?

YWF: No. I wanted to be in a place where people didn’t grow up around white people and I wanted to see what it was like just naturally.

Los Angelista's Thinking: How does she know they didn't grow up around white folks? Just because you decide to attend an HBCU doesn't mean you didn't grow up around white people. And why's he bringing up "Black Like Me"? Did she try to make herself "look" more black?

OWM: There’s something about the uninitiated where those things are being formed. So how was it?

YWF: It was hard. I couldn’t figure out how it was going to be hard. I have always been socially confident and this was the first time I walked around with my eyes cast down.

People didn’t speak to me and I didn’t want to assume it was because I was white, when it could be because I have body odor or something. It was good though.

Los Angelista's Thinking: Aww, poor baby. Those black people were so mean they took away your confidence! Maybe they didn't speak to you because they are busy trying to get an education and they don't have time for games and bullshit.

OWM: How long did that last before you were able to break through all that.

YWF: If someone didn’t like me, I didn’t want to blame it on whether I’m white or Jewish or because... maybe I’m just annoying.

Los Angelista's Thinking: Um, yeah! Annoying. Superior. Condescending. You think you're so open minded that you're going to go experiment on the little black people.

OWM: So how’d it end up?

YWF: It ended up well. As time went on, there were some things people couldn’t get over.

OWM: Like the fact that you were making them be a part of a social experiment?

Los Angelista's Thinking: THANK YOU for saying that! Call her out! Preach!

YWF: Well, I tried to not make it seem that way, but there was use of space, use of noise, expectations about being quiet because people were... Cause you know, I was the only white person.

Los Angelista: Wow. This is some serious code language here. So are you trying to say all black people are loud and have issues with space?

OWM: Wow, unbelievable. You're so brave.

Los Angelista's Thinking: I know. Isn't she? Because those negroes could have turned their radios up even louder than they normally do, just to drive her quiet, white self insane. Never mind that black people are in settings where they're the only black person ALL THE TIME and no one ever calls them brave.

YWF: I was thinking, in the North... I’ve never hung out with a group of just black people in the North. I had no idea how different black people are from me.

Los Angelista's Thinking: Yeah, I've heard black people are so different from white folks that they don't eat, breathe air or even watch American Idol. Yeah, these monolithic "black people" you're referring to -- did you know they're all pretty different from each other? Just ask around and see how many black folks you can find that listen to Depeche Mode.

OWM: How long were you there?

YWF: For a semester. Four months.

OWM: What did you study there? Do they even have your major?

YWF: Well at Brown I'm a classics major and they don’t have Latin and Greek there at a black school.

So I did all really Afrocentric courses, so I’d have to talk about “black things” and talk about the fact that I am white.

Los Angelista's Thinking: So this type of dumb ish is what a $30K a year ivy league education buys these days? Wow. I want to really tell you about yourself. I know you think you're all noble to go slumming with the black people and try to find out about them, but I think what you're doing hurts more than it helps because your intentions are all wrong.

And so I had to shut the laptop and leave because I could feel all my classic physical signs of extreme anger (feeling hot, pulse beating wildly, desire to throw something) starting up.

I know some people out there will think this girl should get an "A" for effort, that at least she's trying to foster some sort of understanding between black and white people.

I don't feel this way. To me, this has nothing to do with building genuine friendships or understanding. I feel sorry for the black students who had to be subjected to her experiment.

Klingon and Orama go to Disneyland

After a few days away, I'm finally landing back on Planet Blog.

I've missed you all! I've had so many things I've wanted to post about but I haven't and I've neglected coming over to visit everyone else's blogs. Tsk. Tsk. Shame on me.

It's just that spending 16 hours at Disneyland on Saturday left me exhausted and my dear friend Jane and her five year-old daughter were here visiting. I felt like it would not be polite to have company come all the way from Michigan and then be like, "Excuse me while I go catch up on my blogging." That, and we were running around having fun so I wasn't even home most of the time! Whew! The house feels so super quiet without her cute little girl around.

Anyway, Disneyland on Saturday was cool. We got there at 9 AM, stayed till midnight, rode everything worth riding because I am the type to go to Disneyland with a plan and a schedule. I mean, you better have a plan to get all the bang for your buck you can since it's like $56 per person to get into the park!

Yes, Disneyland is fun but the only diversity there is in the crowd. I guess they've missed out on MLK's dream in their hiring practices. Do they have an unspoken rule there to not hire more than one black, Latino or Asian actor or actress for the entire park? I mean, the only time I saw a significant number of black cast members was during the "Jungle Cruise" when the "guide" pointed out the cannibals.

Oh wait, those weren't even real people. Nope, the cannibals are just wax statues.

Even in the "Parade of Dreams" where actors and actresses dress up as the characters and march down Disney's Main Street, the only non-white performers seemed to be on the "Lion King" float. I guess those Disneyland execs can't find a diverse group of performers for those roles. Poor things. I know they've got to be trying! There must be no one qualified in all of Southern California!

Where could those execs find some qualified talent? Hmm... Oh, I know! I'm sure there were lots of fab performers at LA's Kingdom Day parade yesterday! Maybe some Disney scouts need to go hang out there to get some fresh and diverse talent.

I do feel sort of guilty that I didn't attend any observances but at least I didn't do like I did in 1996 and end up going to the Jerry Springer show on MLK Day. One of these days I'll have to tell you that story, but today, alas, will not be that day. I will only absolve myself of all blame by saying that at the time I had no idea who or what Jerry Springer was.

Speaking of Springer, I did feel a little like I was watching an "edumacated" version of that infamous show during last night's CNN Democratic debate. I was just waiting to see who was going to jump from behind a podium and start throwing blows.

My eldest son kept asking me, "Do Hillary Klingon and Orack Orama need to go to time out?"

Nah, they don't need a time out. They just need to go to Disneyland. The next debate clearly needs to be held at Disneyland. Just think what a positive effect debating in the "Happiest place on earth" would have on the candidates!

I can picture it now...Klingon and Orama holding hands while riding Space Mountain. Klingon and Orama eating ice cream while standing in line for the Pirates of the Caribbean. Klingon and Orama buying matching mouse ear hats...

Coming back down to reality, my eldest son asked me this morning, "Mommy, do you think Hillary Klingon is going to vote for Orack Orama?"

Um, yeah. Disneyland or no, my son might have to hold his breath on that one.

What Do You Do All Day?

The next time someone asks me, "What do you do all day?" or says, ""I can't believe you're such a stay-at-home mom these days. Don't you get bored?" I'm going to scream!

Or if they're right in front of me, instead of screaming, I'm gonna stab them with a...with a...

Well, I'm sure I'll find something nice, sharp and painful to stab with. Like my keyboard.

Do these people not know what my life used to be like? Do they not know that if I never have an office job again, I have paid my dues and then some! Last year I was taking tests to determine if I was a workaholic and if I'd answered every question honestly, (which I didn't because it was too damn depressing) I would've scored a perfect 100%. I was considering going to therapy. Have they not read my post on working 101 hours in ONE WEEK?

But the truth is also that if I wanted to get everything done at my job that I needed to, there was no possibility of not working the hours I did. It's not a good or bad thing. It's just the way it was. We all know 40 hours a week is a joke for most people these days. It's not right, but it's the way it is.

What really bugs me that more women than men say these things to me. There's always an insinuation that I was the last person they ever thought they'd see leading such a "boring" existence.

I guess they liked me better when I was working all the time. I guess that made me more exciting. I guess I had value then and now I don't. Maybe it's not status-y enough to say that your friend stays home and writes? Is that the problem?

Because yes, I write and I get paid for it. I want to write more stuff and get paid for it. I like writing. No, I love writing and I'm happier when I'm writing than when I'm doing anything else. Want to hire me to write something for you?

Sure, the money's not as much as what I was making before, but I'm not working the hours I was and I'm fine with that. Even if I decide to go back to an office job next year, I will never ever again say, "Yeah, I worked 87 hours this week." I might not even be willing to ever again say, "I worked 57 hours."

I used to pay someone thousands of dollars a year to watch my sons. She was awesome and I think a huge part of the sweet, very polite and happy boys my sons are today is owed to her. But no one would have said she wasn't working when she was taking care of them. So how come I'm not working when I'm taking care of my own kids?

I 'm writing. I'm reading. I'm on three committees at my kid's school. I'm actually cooking dinner. I bury deceased hamsters. I read to my children. I do crazy things like organize my books alphabetically and call the LAPD about drunks loitering down the hill.

But what if I did nothing but lounge on the couch and eat chocolate covered strawberries? What if I just went to a spa all day, watched the maid do the laundry and made my chauffeur drive me to Fred Segal to shop?

Whose business would that be?

Inhale. Exhale. Do a yoga pose. Repeat out loud: "Violence is a tool of the ignorant.

But seriously, whoever has a problem with what I'm doing right now, step off.

R.I.P., Techno

I just can't believe it!

Just when I was complaining to my friend Jane about how I didn't feel like changing Techno the hamster's cage, my eldest son came running out of his room with Techno in his hands, screaming, "Mommy, Techno's dead!"

Except he wasn't dead. The poor thing was dying. Still barely alive, gasping his last breaths. I took him from my son and held him until he died, nestled in my hands.

I have no idea what happened. I suppose it was just his time, although I thought hamsters are supposed to live 2-5 years. I guess not this hamster.

He hasn't been sick though. He's only three months old and he's been a happy, healthy hamster. As usual, he was running around like a madman in his exercise ball last night and napping peacefully this morning.

My sons are devastated, particularly my eldest since he helped take care of Techno the most. I'm pretty upset too, because, well, I'm the one who stayed up all night stalking Techno when he escaped. I cleaned his cage three times a week because I have a really sensitive nose. I put him in his exercise ball and let him roam around for 20 minutes at a time. Needless to say, we really bonded.

We put him in a small box and buried him under a tree in our backyard. My eldest is ever the scientist, remarking that "rigor motor" had already begun. He cried so hard as I wrapped the body in a little burial shroud of tissue.

So, Techno, rest in peace and thank you for being a part of our little family. I'm sure we'll be adopting one of your cousins soon.

Telling All Your Business in Public

Dear Blond in a Brown Sweater, Orange Pants and Red Boots,

You shouldn't tell all your business in public. Especially not at a busy cafe in LA.

I know we have a confessional culture, where folks just slit their wrists and let all their business bleed out to everyone and anyone.

I am a participant in this because, after all, I'm a blogger. For three years I have told my business to complete strangers. But I only tell some of my business, not all of it.

Never all of it.

It is a free country though. I cannot stop you from sitting in a cafe discussing the amazing sex you had last night. But at least, if you're going to tell it, whisper. Lean across the cafe table so that you don't have to shout to your friend about how you've, "Never been f***ed like that before. Ever."

I get it. Your mind was blown. Your world was rocked. You can't stop thinking about it. Or talking about it.

You're three tables away from me and I can hear every word. Judging from the smirks on the faces of other customers in here, we are all listening.

But you see, it's only 9:30 in the morning and I just want to enjoy my chai, not throw it up all over the floor. I'm not trying to hear anything that starts with, "And then he flipped me over and..."

On the other hand, you go right ahead and keep talking.

Trust me, I'm not the only person in here writing down every word.

There's a "Race War" Going On -- But My Neighbor Still Said, "Hi!"

"This race thing… it’s dicey."

"We’re on the brink of a race war."

I heard these statements on MSNBC yesterday morning before I took my kids to school. I peered outside to check out whether folks were giving each other beat downs on the corner, because you know, out here in LA, we seemingly know how to do "race war" very well.

As you know, we will burn this city up over, oh, little things like white cops getting acquitted for beating down a black man named Rodney King. So who knows what LA would do in a situation where a politician's playing games and making racially charged insinuations about another candidate, and then blaming that candidate for the whole thing. Only a very heightened sense of superiority would allow an individual to believe that we will follow the marching orders and act like what we heard said does not mean what we think it means.

You know we're crazy out here, right? We're so psycho in LA that we might continue to misinterpret, misunderstand and take some quotes out of context. And then what might happen? We might burn down this entire city, which would definitely mean no Oscars. And then, what the heck! We might call up our friends who moved up the 15 Freeway to Las Vegas in search of affordable housing and tell them to go ahead and destroy Las Vegas too. I mean, we are having a race war so we do need to live up to the hype. Burn, baby, burn!

But I digress. Where were we? Oh yes, taking the kids to school.

The coast seemed clear so I took my sons outside where I immediately ran into my white neighbors. They said hello in the same cheerful way they always do.

I wasn't expecting this because of, you know, the race war. Things were supposed to pop off like that scene in "Do the Right Thing" where everybody starts spewing out all their racial prejudices about other groups:



That didn't happen though so I walked the kids down the hill, said, "Buenos Dias," to the Latina shop owner I speak to every morning. Dropped the kids at school, stopped at the Korean market, got a can of Coke Zero, chatted with the owner's wife, and then came home unscathed.

"We’re on the brink of a race war." Gosh, I must have "misinterpreted" the meaning of those words. It's my fault. I'm probably a "race card" player. Aagh! Someone give me a hair shirt to wear as punishment because I clearly need to get my information straight.

How appropriate then that I have another info gathering opportunity in tonight's Democratic debate. An added bonus is that today is Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday -- so maybe the candidates will be forced to answer a question about all this.

MSNBC has a link on their site where we, the people, can submit questions. I asked, given Hurricane Katrina, the Jena Six and the discussion about race in the current Presidential campaign, what each candidate would do, if anything, as President to foster racial unity in America.

I'm not talking about some sort of phony, "let's all transcend race" sort of unity either. Let's keep it real and acknowledge that the only person being required to transcend race is Barack Obama. None of the other candidates are being required to "transcend" their race because their race is the "right" race.

If you're white in America, you don't have to transcend or overcome your race to become President of the United States. Whiteness is the norm and no one is going to feel uncomfortable with you if you're a white President.

I have a feeling my debate question won't get asked. It's just a feeling, but I'm sure I'm right, and this might not be a bad thing. There's a high likelihood we'd merely hear candidates invoking Dr. King's name and highlighting how they have each always worked for change, unity and social justice, and have always been an admirer of Dr. King.

I wonder if we'll hear a bunch of, "I have black friends and supporters," name dropping going on tomorrow night. Maybe we'll see Hillary Clinton somehow spotlight that BET Founder Bob Johnson, the man who green lit "BET Uncut", home of the infamously degrading, booty-shaking "Tip Drill" music video porno, is a supporter of hers.

Or maybe she's going to use that video as an example of how she's advocating for all women. She'll tell us the booty shaking in it is a demonstration of what black women can achieve.

Gosh, I hope none of the candidates says the classic, "I don't see color!" line. It's been said before but I'll say it again. How could you not see my color? I see it when I look in the mirror every day. I want you to see my color. Don't "see me" like the boss who flat out told me he only wanted me to go to an event because I was black, and it was a "black" event.

No, see me in all my beauty. Respect me as being your equal. Love me because I'm part of your human family.

Which one of these candidates will stand up and actually say we need to have a real dialogue about how to overcome the sickness of racism? Which one of them will humbly acknowledge that running for President does not absolve someone from needing to check their biases, prejudices and ingrained mindsets? The opposite of war is peace so who is the voice sincerely calling for racial peace? Which candidate will acknowledge that forgiveness is needed but so is an end to the inherent sense of superiority?

Which will -- oh heck, I stop while I'm ahead. I think the crickets are already chirping. And besides, it's almost time for me to go out into the race war that is American life. Let me go put on my battle armor.

And the Award Goes To!

I can't believe I watched tonight's wick-wick-wack Golden Globe awards special.

The "correspondents" for "Extra" were the hosts and seriously, an hour of Billy Bush is more than I can take. Forget waterboarding as a form of torture. The CIA should just tie some of their prisoners up and made them watch Billy Bush on repeat for three days. At the end of that, even the most hardened James Bond would confess to whatever the CIA wants.

I mean, we all know that awards shows are only nominally about the movies. Nowadays, they're more about seeing what outfits celebrities wear and seeing Jack Nicholson grinning into the camera. So I think they should have just made a cool website and posted the winners. Or maybe put up a site with pictures of gowns they think the female nominees might have worn.

I will say though that as much as I missed seeing the gowns and seeing Johnny Depp on stage winning his first Golden Globe ever for Sweeney Todd, I was consoled that the entire thing was over in an hour.

Oh, and another great thing was that "Atonement" won for Best Motion Picture, Drama. I loved the book and the movie was fab as well. I've seen most of the movies that were nominated for best drama and Atonement is still the one I'm thinking about the most even though it's been around six weeks since I've seen it. I think you should go see it, but be prepared to cry.

Another word of warning: the sparks fly between Keira Knightley and James McAvoy. I mean, they really fly and you need to remember that if romance is done right, it's almost always better in a movie than it is in real life. So, if you're woman and you're in a relationship and you think it's happy and loving, well, at some point after you see this film, you're going to wonder why your man isn't more James McAvoy-ish.

Just remember, even James McAvoy isn't like his character, Robbie Turner, in real life. So, try to be happy you actually do have love because not everyone does.

And if you're in a relationship and it's not going so hot, chances are that after seeing "Atonement" you will thoroughly hate your significant other and quite possibly decide that you need to end things. You're going to wonder why you don't have someone looking at you like that, kissing you like that, longing for you like that. And it's going to depress you and piss you off.

Anyway, in the spirit of awards, I've been awarded a couple, each from bloggers that I respect immensely. The first is the "A Roar For Powerful Words" award from Heart in San Francisco over at Guilty With an Explanation. Heart is one of my favorite bloggers and one of the ones I've been reading the longest. I was really grateful on the day that "next blog" button led me to her.

I'm going to pass this award along to Shelly at Boring Black Chick. She is, of course, incredibly interesting and reflective, all which serves to make the title of her blog highly ironic. Every time I read her blog, something resonates with me...and she's a much healthier eater than I am. I wish I could switch places with her for a day so she could train my body to not be interested in either Coke Zero or chocolate.

Ian over at Or So I Thought has also bestowed upon me the "You Make My Day" award. This is very generous of him and if I could give it back to him, I would. But that probably violates some sort of rule book.

I also think I'm supposed to give this to ten people, but this awards show is already running long, sooo....we have two awardees:

I'm giving this award to Keith over at African American Dad. He's proof that, despite the things we're taught by the mainstream media, there are black fathers that married to the woman they love and are actively raising their child. I love reading about his adventures with his son.

I'm also giving it to Sally over at Any Given Sundry. I've been reading Sally's blog for a long time and I love it. She lives here in Southern California and she takes a picture every day. This would be painful if she were a boring photographer, but clearly, that's not the case. She's also a fantastic writer so she provides some commentary and context about the photo. I love this because even though we've never met, I feel like I truly know her.

Well, that's the end of tonight's awards! I'd really like to see Johnny Depp on stage at the Oscars instead of a photograph of him on my TV screen with Billy Bush saying something inane. Let's all hope the studios end the greedy stonewalling and agree to pay the writers what is rightfully theirs.

Los Angelista - iPod = 911

My iPod goes everywhere with me.

I listen to it when I walk, I plug it into an adapter in my car. I plug it in when I'm in the kitchen. I listen to it when I write. I listen to it when I'm sleeping.

Linus has a security blanket. I have an iPod.

Rather, I had an iPod because I lost it this afternoon.

The whys and hows of this disaster are unspeakably horrible. But let's just say that those who know me exceedingly well are aware that when I get too stressed out or have too many things going on at once, I lose things.

However, I've also realized that when I'm feeling stressed, it calms me down to touch things or hold something in my hands. And what do I want to touch? I want to touch things that are comforting to me. My iPod definitely = comforting. But an unfortunate side effect of the stress is that since I'm feeling distracted and not myself, I might drop or momentarily put down the object I'm touching. Without even realizing it.

It usually takes me about five minutes to realize I've done this and so in most cases, whatever I've "lost" is still there when I come back for it.

That was not the case today and now it's gone. I wish it would magically reappear, fall from the sky...something! But that's not going to happen.

Clearly I have been having a moment where my detachment from a material object is being seriously tested. I know an iPod is not an essential object. If I don't have one, I'm not going to die because let's face it, iPods are not the basic needs equivalent of oxygen, water or dental floss.

However, now that I've had a few hours to process this and have calmed down from the crying freak out I experienced earlier, I'm thinking about how this is affecting me on two levels.

Sure I'm dealing with losing my iPod, but there's something more: I'm also feeling the awful guilt of knowing I'm eventually going to have to buy another one.

I have an incredibly hard time spending money and buying things for myself. I have no issues with buying presents for other people, but when it comes to me, I have serious hang-ups. I only bought my iPod because last year a few relatives gave me some money for my birthday. And yes, my birthday's in December but it wasn't until late April that I decided to take the plunge, spend the money and buy the iPod.

But I also know I'm so hooked on my portable music that if I don't get a new iPod, in a few days I might be in a catatonic state. So, I know I'm going to take myself to the Apple Store and drop $200 on a new one. Plus a clear plastic Belkin case for $25.

And I absolutely need to go buy new running shoes this week. I've been putting it off for a month and my knees are really hurting when I run because my running shoes are...well, I can't tell you how old they are. It's too embarrassing.

Oh my goodness, between purchasing the new iPod and new running shoes I will probably be in therapy by the end of the week.

Ten Questions

It's been a long week and I'm feeling grateful to get to Friday. It's such a luxuriously slow night that I'm thinking about all the random things I've wondered about this week. I can't help but wonder:

1) Why oh why did The View hire Sheri Shepard and her wig collection?


2) Whatever happened to that Runaway Bride girl? Remember her, the bug-eyed one?


4) Why are 70% of black women single?

5) How come I'm not independently wealthy and living in a villa in the south of France?


6) Why do people still try to say Barack Obama is a Muslim? And if it turned out he was a Muslim, do you think most of those who are his supporters would still be in his camp?


7) Today I was really grateful for that "free" Rolling Stone subscription. How does Johnny Depp stay so ridiculously hot?

8) Why oh why is there going to be a Flavor of Love Three?
9) Why do I think all the other nations in the world are going to form a conspiracy, call in all the US debt all at once, and humble us for real?


10) How in the world did Christina Aguilera and Nicole Ritchie both have babies today? It just doesn't seem like Christina has been pregnant that long, and now that Nicole has had the baby, will she go back to looking skeletal?Yes, it's that kind of night. But if you have the answers to these or any other profoundly important questions, please let me know.

Rolling the Dice With Los Angeles Magnet Schools

The deadline is looming!

Friday, January 11, 2008 at 5:00 P.M. is a moment of agony for thousands of LA parents.

It's the deadline for the infamous "Choices" brochure. If you're an LA parent with a child in public school, you are probably very familiar with this brochure and all the anxiety it causes.

However, for those of you who either live in other parts of the world or amble along in childless bliss, here's a nice, positive summing up of the pyschotic magnet world, courtesy of this LA Times article:

"The magnet system established specialty schools that have become, in many cases, the district's brightest centers of academic excellence. It was intended to give families the motivation to voluntarily desegregate a district that was deeply polarized along racial lines. It hasn't fully met that promise -- many schools in the district remain racially isolated. But numerous magnet schools have become models of integration."

Basically, if your child gets into a magnet, they have a better chance of getting a great education. And guess what? Race is the main criteria for admission in these schools and they try to create a 40% white / 60% non-white or a 30% white / 70% non-white balance.

This race-based admissions policy got challenged in court but, surprisingly since this is California, the land of Proposition 209, the challengers lost.

As a side note, I love how in the Choices brochure "white" is defined as, "A non-Hispanic person having origins in any of the original peoples of Europe, North Africa, or the Middle East, e.g., England, Egypt, Russia or Iran."

So if you're from Iraq or Iran, congratulations, you're white! I could write a whole separate post on LAUSD's racial classifications but I'll save it for another day. I'm just wondering though, has anyone told George Bush that according to LAUSD, 2/3 of the Axis of Evil is white?

Anyway, I've always been an advocate of supporting my neighborhood school and I'm happy with my both my son's teachers. However, I would like more racial diversity, more science, social studies and art and a principal focused on making the school one of the best in the state. So I figured, why not give the magnet thing a whirl and see what happens?

You can only apply to one magnet per year so I submitted applications for both of my sons to a fab K-5 school with lots of diversity and through the roof test scores. However, last year there were 35 openings and 1,652 applications for this school.

Yeah, you read those numbers right.

So that means they have a 2.1% chance of getting in. Boy, with those kinds of odds, maybe I should go buy a lottery ticket too.

And the Vegas-style admissions odds aren't limited to just the school I applied to. Nope, take a look at the numbers for Valley Alternative where 2.2% of applicants are going to get in. Read their "Success Secret".

Now to me, it seems like there are a whole lot of parents out there who'd love to have their high school-aged child educated so well that when they go to high school, they're far enough ahead that they're taking college level classes. But if your kid doesn't get into Valley Magnet, you can kinda forget about that.

You might also have to forget about getting an education good enough to be able to comprehend a high school textbook. In the magnet brochure, they list out what are called "Program Improvement" schools. Program Improvement (PI) schools are schools that are scraping the bottom of the academic barrel. They have the absolute lowest test scores. And in this city, there are 163 elementaries (uh huh) that are PI schools.

Even if a school isn't a PI school, that doesn't mean it's excellent. Nope, a whole lot of them are just barely avoiding being PI schools. There are way too many schools in this city that are just so-so. They aren't cringe-worthy, but they're not awesome either.

Chances are my kids are gonna get rejected from the magnet we applied to. I'm looking into some other options but I'm fully prepared to have to keep supplementing their education here at home.

But doesn't it somehow seem illegal, immoral even, to give a better education to kids who, through the luck of the draw, get into one of these magnets?

I say yes.

Now since LAUSD is turning me into a gambler, let me go buy my Mega Millions lottery ticket.

How Depeche Mode Wrecked My Bid to Become POTUS

I really should have kept up my bid to become POTUS.

Just think, being both black and female, I could pull in the votes from both prized demographics. Plus, some are speculating that the "Latino" vote is gonna be key in this presidential race. I would have that on lock too since I live in LA.

I'm no dummy so I would have already hired some calculating campaign advisers to spin the LA angle, and the fact that I like to eat the tamales sold at the Hollywood Farmer's Market. I wouldn't put The King of Infidelity Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa up on national TV to campaign on my behalf either, no matter how desperate I happened to be for the Latino vote.

Instead I'd hire City Council President, Eric "The Hotness" Garcetti as my campaign manager.

He's a Rhodes Scholar, he speaks Spanish, he's a 4th generation Angeleno, he's a jazz pianist...and did I mention he's very good looking?

Hmm...maybe I better not hire Garcetti. Folks might start thinking he should be the POTUS instead of moi.

Oh well, come to think of it, I guess I am a little under-qualified for the job. Besides, there's probably enough fodder on this blog to completely eliminate me from contention. The Depeche Mode obsession alone would be the stake through the heart.

Can you imagine the press getting ahold of that? Chris Matthews would eat me for lunch.

Matthews: So you say your campaign song is "Personal Jesus". That's an odd song for someone who's not even an evangelical Christian.

Los Angelista: Not at all, Chris. In the face of rising gas prices and continuing threats from Al Qaeda, I firmly believe the American people need to unite for change and as the song says, "Reach out and touch faith!"

Matthews: I hear you throwing that "change" word in like every other candidate these days but aren't you just twisting the song to get votes? Isn't it really a song about Elvis and Priscilla Presley?

Los Angelista: Well, I'm glad to see you know a little Depeche Mode history, Chris. You have to admit, there's nothing more American than Elvis!

Matthews: Don't try to get cute! We're playing Hardball here! Besides, the latest Zogby poll is saying you're alienating evangelicals with this song.

Los Angelista: Well, as you know, we can't always trust polls, can we, Chris?

Oh yes, it would all go downhill from there.

Rumors of Garcetti quitting over my insistence on wearing a "Violator" t-shirt to the debate would get published on the Drudge Report.

An opposing campaign would engage in some shady behavior by mentioning that I might have said that given a choice between attending a Depeche Mode concert and brokering a nuclear arms treaty with North Korea, I'd choose Depeche Mode.

My campaign would then have to release a statement clarifying that in a moment of levity, what I'd actually said was that I'd take Kim Jong-il to the concert with me because I'm sure hearing "Personal Jesus" sung live would help seal the deal.

But the damage would be irrevocably done. I don't even know if I could get Gloria Steinem to declare her support for me in the New York Times. Would she take up the call that I'm a victim of sexism since I can't even have a healthy love for Depeche Mode? Would she note how no one would be complaining if I'd picked a theme song from a more traditionally masculine artist like Bruce Springsteen?

Or maybe she'd point out that if I was white, no one would bat an eyelash at me picking a Depeche Mode song. But nooo, because I'm black, the mainstream media expects me to have a Patti LaBelle or Luther Vandross track blaring as I walk on stage.

But that would mean that Ms. Steinem would have to acknowledge that racism does still matter a whole lot in this day and age. And I might take it upon myself to ask her, since she thinks black men have had it so good for so long, whether or not she's ever heard of a white woman being lynched in the United States.

Gosh, that would be the final nail in my campaign coffin, wouldn't it? I'd have nothing left to do but write a runaway bestseller, "How Depeche Mode Wrecked My Bid to Become POTUS".

Except I'd be such a has-been by that point that only three copies would sell, the ones I bought and autographed for each member of the band. Then I'd have to return my advance money and file for bankruptcy.

Yes, I suppose it's still best that I am not running for the esteemed job of President of the United States. A life without Depeche Mode, even one as head of the most powerful nation in the World (even though the rest of the world sort of financially owns us now) would be no life at all.

But if you'd still like to, "Reach out and touch faith", feel free to join me:

The Progress of the Soul

It's been two years since I got that phone call.

I can still can hear my father's voice, the way it sounded as he choked out that my brother had committed suicide.

Two years have passed