I'm on vacation in NY seeing my NY family; my roots, my foundation n i just received the most horrible tragic news. My 'brother from another mother' has passed on....
I just don't know how to feel. Black people, at least from my experience, have nontraditional families. In our case, my Mother Saundra n my Aunt Jackie united and raised their kids together. They were our mom and dad. So although Ian was (Is, how can he be past tense at the age of 28!???) Biologically my first cousin, he is my brother. He was my brother in shared parents, struggles, shared trauma and experience, broken homes and fights to be relevant and not be a statistic. I have 4 brothers and now hes gone, so sudden. I remember wen he was born, when i changed his diapers because him and Tootie came along when i was 11 so they were MY babies! I saw him through potty training and teething and his first girlfriend. Evictions and his moms battle with drug addiction. I gave him the nickname Mookie because he so hated milk and he would throw his bottle screaming 'No Mookie' whenever he tasted milk in his bottle. I was with him when we grew up on a cold sad night at a hospital in the Bronx when we went to claim Aunt Jackie's body when she passed. I remember the look of lost and confused on his face as we stood silent hugging each other in that empty still parking lot suddenly thrust into the role of adult way too soon, and not like this, no not like this....
I remember moving to Cali just 4 months ago n seeing him again after 4 years and meeting his new wife and sharing bedside in the joy of his first baby being born just a month ago...
And just this Sunday i hugged my brother and told him i loved him and would see him after i got back from NY. He told me to tell everyone he loved them and have a safe flight and i wised him a very happy first Christmas with his baby...
And now hes gone... how do i understand? How do i even digest it? I love u soooo much brother. I pray that you are with mommy and aunt Jackie and u find the comfort alluding you here with all of us....
R I P Ian Davis.... my brother, my cousin, my friend
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Concrete Paradise.... Part II
HELLLLLLOOO .
I just had a great evening with the diva and her friend Gennessy (I call the chile Hennessy because that's obviously what they WANTED to name her! lol) I was on the train headed down to downtown LA and I was mesmerized and awed by every sight! The Christmas decorations were gorgeous, the hustle and bustle of the eclectic mix of people rushing about, and the sights and sounds and smells all revived me! I realize that this is what people mean when they talk about how they grew up on a farm and need fresh air and wide open spaces and to see fields of grass and neighbors 20 miles away; it's what they grew to love and have adapted as their comfort environment.
Well, I grew up in the NY my friends and I crave police sirens and loud noises and hearing people outside all night. I want to know I can go to the deli and 4 am and one) it's fricking OPEN, and two) there are other people there as well! I understand that the grass is beautiful and flowers are lovely. Yes, I like the smell of fresh cut lawns and seeing nature as far as the eye can see, but I LOOOOOVVVVEEE freshly washed concrete and tall structures of such startling design that they aren't just buildings, they are ART people! My natural habitat is a concrete jungle and I will never be as happy as I can be unless I am there, surrounded by flow and energy and noise and fuss and mess and drama and bums and beautiful people and my fellow man begging for a cigarette and the train conductor cursing at the dude blocking the door!! I need that dramatic sense of SOMETHING going on on every corner and that even if I am not an actual part of it, I am in the heart f it baby!!
I know some people won't get it, and that is kind of selfish since I did say I guess I an relate to the whole country thing, but it's ok. I 'see' the city as a concrete paradise. The endless lights glimmer like waterfalls. The ebb and flow of traffic and pedestrians is like the calls and chitters of the animals in the darn country side. The smell of exhaust and hot pretzels beckon me just as the smell of honeysuckle and jasmine tickle the senses out in the open spaces outside the cities of our world. It is because of this love and affinity for the city; the concrete, face it; the MADNESS of it all that I DO like LA and am able to call it home for now. I mean it sure isn't New York, but it is kinda like how mommy was the best and one and only, but if I couldn't have her, Aunt Jackie was just as good!!!
WELCOME TO MY WORLD!!!!
I just had a great evening with the diva and her friend Gennessy (I call the chile Hennessy because that's obviously what they WANTED to name her! lol) I was on the train headed down to downtown LA and I was mesmerized and awed by every sight! The Christmas decorations were gorgeous, the hustle and bustle of the eclectic mix of people rushing about, and the sights and sounds and smells all revived me! I realize that this is what people mean when they talk about how they grew up on a farm and need fresh air and wide open spaces and to see fields of grass and neighbors 20 miles away; it's what they grew to love and have adapted as their comfort environment.
Well, I grew up in the NY my friends and I crave police sirens and loud noises and hearing people outside all night. I want to know I can go to the deli and 4 am and one) it's fricking OPEN, and two) there are other people there as well! I understand that the grass is beautiful and flowers are lovely. Yes, I like the smell of fresh cut lawns and seeing nature as far as the eye can see, but I LOOOOOVVVVEEE freshly washed concrete and tall structures of such startling design that they aren't just buildings, they are ART people! My natural habitat is a concrete jungle and I will never be as happy as I can be unless I am there, surrounded by flow and energy and noise and fuss and mess and drama and bums and beautiful people and my fellow man begging for a cigarette and the train conductor cursing at the dude blocking the door!! I need that dramatic sense of SOMETHING going on on every corner and that even if I am not an actual part of it, I am in the heart f it baby!!
I know some people won't get it, and that is kind of selfish since I did say I guess I an relate to the whole country thing, but it's ok. I 'see' the city as a concrete paradise. The endless lights glimmer like waterfalls. The ebb and flow of traffic and pedestrians is like the calls and chitters of the animals in the darn country side. The smell of exhaust and hot pretzels beckon me just as the smell of honeysuckle and jasmine tickle the senses out in the open spaces outside the cities of our world. It is because of this love and affinity for the city; the concrete, face it; the MADNESS of it all that I DO like LA and am able to call it home for now. I mean it sure isn't New York, but it is kinda like how mommy was the best and one and only, but if I couldn't have her, Aunt Jackie was just as good!!!
WELCOME TO MY WORLD!!!!
Concrete Paradise
Hello ALL,
I visited my DIVA in downtown LA today and I had a sudden realization. I felt great and the closer I got to the city, I felt better and better. First I attributed it to seeing Ciarin, but as I studied the stone steps leading up to canopied building doorways, and the waist high stone 'fences' along the sides of buildings, I realized that I was feeling familiarity. I love the sights and sounds and smells of the city!! People who grow up in the country and open spaces speak of how they need views and vista and fresh air and nature in abundance around them and it feeds their psyche. They need to smell fresh flowers and (I guess) a little cow and horse manure to feel nostalgic and reminiscent of home.
Well, I feel the same. The smell of roasted peanuts, hot dog wagons, fresh pastries baking, feet, and steam all tickle my sense of smell just as pleasantly. I feel at home surrounded by concrete on 3 sides and look up to view the far reaching sky. Its cloistering to have the sky right there!! Right within your reach! I need to see it high above me, stars twinkling; rightfully as unreachable as they really are!
I love the slap of my sneakers on the sidewalks (which are available everywhere and conveniently keep you separated from the speeding cars buses, trucks, and trains! ~take a hint Georgia, sheesh!!) and the clickety clack sound when I wear heals or shoes. You cant hear that confident reassuring 'shadow' step on some grass people!!
I yearn for the hustle and bustle all night and I LIKE that I can get a SUBWAY sandwich, some tweezers cause I got this ingrown, a pack of cigarettes and/or a beer, or just a darn maxi pad at 4 am at the corner store AND there will probably be other people in there just as wide awake as I am! I understand the feeling of home and serenity that people who grew up in the more rural areas, but understand that MY serenity comes from sirens and lights and noise and bums collecting bottles and giving you the opportunity to redeem yourself by giving a dollar. I feel immersed, included, surrounded, and a PART of everything that is going on. I thrive on the energy and the strong backdrop of the foreboding but seductive architecture and the eclectic glass and chrome sparkle of the buildings and structures! And cleverly snuggled in at random spots, there are parks, and gardens with grass and trees and insects and even a few unsavory 'city' people sleeping on the benches!
Oh, yes, LA, you are the sister of my beloved NY. You do what Atlanta couldn't; your revive my awe and motivation that the city, the concrete, the noise, the confusion and understood chaos, the unapologetic surge of energizing LIFE, and I realize that MY paradise is this type of environment. I want to visit the waterfalls in Hawaii, and see the beauty of Ireland and the mountains and peaks in Switzerland, but NY city, the concrete jungle that is HOME, is my starting point as well as my final destination...
~Cracey
I visited my DIVA in downtown LA today and I had a sudden realization. I felt great and the closer I got to the city, I felt better and better. First I attributed it to seeing Ciarin, but as I studied the stone steps leading up to canopied building doorways, and the waist high stone 'fences' along the sides of buildings, I realized that I was feeling familiarity. I love the sights and sounds and smells of the city!! People who grow up in the country and open spaces speak of how they need views and vista and fresh air and nature in abundance around them and it feeds their psyche. They need to smell fresh flowers and (I guess) a little cow and horse manure to feel nostalgic and reminiscent of home.
Well, I feel the same. The smell of roasted peanuts, hot dog wagons, fresh pastries baking, feet, and steam all tickle my sense of smell just as pleasantly. I feel at home surrounded by concrete on 3 sides and look up to view the far reaching sky. Its cloistering to have the sky right there!! Right within your reach! I need to see it high above me, stars twinkling; rightfully as unreachable as they really are!
I love the slap of my sneakers on the sidewalks (which are available everywhere and conveniently keep you separated from the speeding cars buses, trucks, and trains! ~take a hint Georgia, sheesh!!) and the clickety clack sound when I wear heals or shoes. You cant hear that confident reassuring 'shadow' step on some grass people!!
I yearn for the hustle and bustle all night and I LIKE that I can get a SUBWAY sandwich, some tweezers cause I got this ingrown, a pack of cigarettes and/or a beer, or just a darn maxi pad at 4 am at the corner store AND there will probably be other people in there just as wide awake as I am! I understand the feeling of home and serenity that people who grew up in the more rural areas, but understand that MY serenity comes from sirens and lights and noise and bums collecting bottles and giving you the opportunity to redeem yourself by giving a dollar. I feel immersed, included, surrounded, and a PART of everything that is going on. I thrive on the energy and the strong backdrop of the foreboding but seductive architecture and the eclectic glass and chrome sparkle of the buildings and structures! And cleverly snuggled in at random spots, there are parks, and gardens with grass and trees and insects and even a few unsavory 'city' people sleeping on the benches!
Oh, yes, LA, you are the sister of my beloved NY. You do what Atlanta couldn't; your revive my awe and motivation that the city, the concrete, the noise, the confusion and understood chaos, the unapologetic surge of energizing LIFE, and I realize that MY paradise is this type of environment. I want to visit the waterfalls in Hawaii, and see the beauty of Ireland and the mountains and peaks in Switzerland, but NY city, the concrete jungle that is HOME, is my starting point as well as my final destination...
~Cracey
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Into every life...
Hello all!
I would go into the long sad story about my computer (s) and the many many issues I have with them therefore my excuses for not blogging the last couple of days but then yall will think me a poor broke chickenrat that cannot even afford the tools of her trade!! (all true except I have NEVER been a chickerat!!~ a term that I have coined and will explain further another time!~) But I would never offer an excuse again for not finding a way to do what I love so the most I will say is, hello and sorry it's been a minute!
Into every life, a little rain will fall. I have heard this saying and so many variations many times, and I will say that I have questioned someone (I won't say GOD because how dare I question HIM!!??) on why in the hell does so much rain fall in mine?
Well, no longer people! I will be like that damn annoying commercial where they sing the praises of the rain as it is just an excuse to wear gaily colored boots and parade around with colorful and unique umbrellas. I will not question why rain must fall in my life because then how could I grow my lilies and tulips and beloved sunflowers!!?? ?How could I appreciate the shining sun basking upon me and toasting my skin a golden brown and giving me a reason to throw open the shutters and smile into the brightness of it all, if never, ever, not ever, did a little rain fall? How could I appreciate the sun and the warmth and the blue skies if I never saw and experienced rain again? And more importantly, how would I ever have become so inept at staying dry and untarnished in all that rain? How would I ever have learned the importance of shelter and warmth of home and hearth during those cold gloomy rainy times without having been through them?
NOOOOOOOOO.
I shall not complain any longer. Let it rain. Let it Rain!! And when it does, I will look longingly toward those gray billowing clouds, seeking that sliver of pale gray luminescent light that alludes to the sun breaking through, as I see it now.. my rainy days are over all, you shall soon see!!!
Weather those storms kids and don't let 'em get you down! Go get some bright yellow golashes, a beautiful printed umbrella, a long rain slicker and jump in puddles and sing in the rain until its over! Just as light surely follows darkness, Inevitably, sunshine follows the rain!
~Stacey
I would go into the long sad story about my computer (s) and the many many issues I have with them therefore my excuses for not blogging the last couple of days but then yall will think me a poor broke chickenrat that cannot even afford the tools of her trade!! (all true except I have NEVER been a chickerat!!~ a term that I have coined and will explain further another time!~) But I would never offer an excuse again for not finding a way to do what I love so the most I will say is, hello and sorry it's been a minute!
Into every life, a little rain will fall. I have heard this saying and so many variations many times, and I will say that I have questioned someone (I won't say GOD because how dare I question HIM!!??) on why in the hell does so much rain fall in mine?
Well, no longer people! I will be like that damn annoying commercial where they sing the praises of the rain as it is just an excuse to wear gaily colored boots and parade around with colorful and unique umbrellas. I will not question why rain must fall in my life because then how could I grow my lilies and tulips and beloved sunflowers!!?? ?How could I appreciate the shining sun basking upon me and toasting my skin a golden brown and giving me a reason to throw open the shutters and smile into the brightness of it all, if never, ever, not ever, did a little rain fall? How could I appreciate the sun and the warmth and the blue skies if I never saw and experienced rain again? And more importantly, how would I ever have become so inept at staying dry and untarnished in all that rain? How would I ever have learned the importance of shelter and warmth of home and hearth during those cold gloomy rainy times without having been through them?
NOOOOOOOOO.
I shall not complain any longer. Let it rain. Let it Rain!! And when it does, I will look longingly toward those gray billowing clouds, seeking that sliver of pale gray luminescent light that alludes to the sun breaking through, as I see it now.. my rainy days are over all, you shall soon see!!!
Weather those storms kids and don't let 'em get you down! Go get some bright yellow golashes, a beautiful printed umbrella, a long rain slicker and jump in puddles and sing in the rain until its over! Just as light surely follows darkness, Inevitably, sunshine follows the rain!
~Stacey
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Ok so I Farted
Good day World!
Today I was on the bus on my way home from work. I am new to Long Beach California and on my journey to become a writer, I have settled on an assuming part time job at the mall. My bus ride is about an hour long and I usually read a book or catch a nice nap. Today I tried to read my book, but I was so sleepy that I took out my sweater, balled it up into a pillow, placed it on the window and fell asleep. I sleep like the dead. I can zonk out and know nothing else but my sleep. However, usually on the bus or train, I remain in a twilight state between sleep and semi consciousness.
Well, I guess today I was more tired than usual and fell under the pull of deep sleep. I know this because I awoke to a small weathered hand tapping me softly. I looked up, wondering why someone would be touching me! I so hate to be touched unsolicited in ANY capacity! The look I gave her was enough for her to draw back in defense, yet she had a small curious smile on her face. She didn't speak or indicate why she woke me up so I said rather rudely, "what?!" In a small sing song voice, dripping with a heavy Spanish accent she whispered, "you farted."
At this point I noticed the faces around me on the bus (it was pretty packed too) and saw people several seats back were smiling openly, some even laughing. Apparently, I was tooting up a storm, loud enough to attract the attention of the passengers farther away and loud enough to be heard over the loud din of so many people talking and playing music heard easily through their headphones.
Now here is where I guess many people including myself, would normally get embarrassed and blush and mumble an apology. Curiously, I got a little more angry. Did she really wake me up out of a nice slumber to tell me I had performed a normal human act of farting in my sleep? What, was there a discussion amongst the passengers on who would be the one to wake me up and put a stop to the antics?! Was she the unfortunate one chosen by default because she was unlucky enough to share a seat with me? Years ago, maybe even as little as 5 years ago, I may well have been embarrassed. OMG in my teenage years, I probably would have gotten off the bus mortified even if it meant waiting an hour for the next one. I would have surely put my head down or my hood on, hoping to disguise my shame until I was able to escape the bus. But, nope. I only felt more than a slight irritation still at the two standout facts of the whole situation; one: she woke me up outta a great sleep, and two: she touched me! I suddenly realized I am getting old, I am blooming into middle age and if feeling no shame and no embarrassment was a trait of that, I welcomed it. And if I didn't realize it from the little stray gray hairs sprouting hidden among my black (sometimes red) curls on my head (and lets be quite honest, one or two other places as well), then my next two words and subsequent actions sure did solidify to me that I was going to grow old gracefully and with all the dignity I was afforded for living so long on this earth. I plumped my 'pillow' back up, readjusted it, and giving a long hard indignant stare at all those still looking as if I did something amazing, finally settling on my poor seatmate said, "SO what! I farted." and closed my eyes to seek out that sleep so deep that I could naturally pass gas and didn't even know it. Or care.
~Stacey Thompson
Today I was on the bus on my way home from work. I am new to Long Beach California and on my journey to become a writer, I have settled on an assuming part time job at the mall. My bus ride is about an hour long and I usually read a book or catch a nice nap. Today I tried to read my book, but I was so sleepy that I took out my sweater, balled it up into a pillow, placed it on the window and fell asleep. I sleep like the dead. I can zonk out and know nothing else but my sleep. However, usually on the bus or train, I remain in a twilight state between sleep and semi consciousness.
Well, I guess today I was more tired than usual and fell under the pull of deep sleep. I know this because I awoke to a small weathered hand tapping me softly. I looked up, wondering why someone would be touching me! I so hate to be touched unsolicited in ANY capacity! The look I gave her was enough for her to draw back in defense, yet she had a small curious smile on her face. She didn't speak or indicate why she woke me up so I said rather rudely, "what?!" In a small sing song voice, dripping with a heavy Spanish accent she whispered, "you farted."
At this point I noticed the faces around me on the bus (it was pretty packed too) and saw people several seats back were smiling openly, some even laughing. Apparently, I was tooting up a storm, loud enough to attract the attention of the passengers farther away and loud enough to be heard over the loud din of so many people talking and playing music heard easily through their headphones.
Now here is where I guess many people including myself, would normally get embarrassed and blush and mumble an apology. Curiously, I got a little more angry. Did she really wake me up out of a nice slumber to tell me I had performed a normal human act of farting in my sleep? What, was there a discussion amongst the passengers on who would be the one to wake me up and put a stop to the antics?! Was she the unfortunate one chosen by default because she was unlucky enough to share a seat with me? Years ago, maybe even as little as 5 years ago, I may well have been embarrassed. OMG in my teenage years, I probably would have gotten off the bus mortified even if it meant waiting an hour for the next one. I would have surely put my head down or my hood on, hoping to disguise my shame until I was able to escape the bus. But, nope. I only felt more than a slight irritation still at the two standout facts of the whole situation; one: she woke me up outta a great sleep, and two: she touched me! I suddenly realized I am getting old, I am blooming into middle age and if feeling no shame and no embarrassment was a trait of that, I welcomed it. And if I didn't realize it from the little stray gray hairs sprouting hidden among my black (sometimes red) curls on my head (and lets be quite honest, one or two other places as well), then my next two words and subsequent actions sure did solidify to me that I was going to grow old gracefully and with all the dignity I was afforded for living so long on this earth. I plumped my 'pillow' back up, readjusted it, and giving a long hard indignant stare at all those still looking as if I did something amazing, finally settling on my poor seatmate said, "SO what! I farted." and closed my eyes to seek out that sleep so deep that I could naturally pass gas and didn't even know it. Or care.
~Stacey Thompson
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Ciarin
Good day world!
I was just thinking how I make many references to Ciarin yet I have not introduced her!! Ciarin Anne Marie is my one and only beautiful, 18 year old daughter. I always wanted to be a writer, but when I had her, I felt like I needed to be wholly and fully available for her. I focused on careers and jobs and schedules, and while I won't say I sacrificed my written voice, (I read a quote by Chris Rock that put the word sacrifice in perspective. He said something like he never says he sacrificed anything for his children because the word itself implies he could have been doing something better) I will say that I mistakenly believed that I could put it off and wait until I raised her. I say mistakenly because I realize that as strong and strong willed and determined as I am, I could have made it work. BUT she is now an adult and on her own (in the JobCorp program in what they call a College track program where she learns her vocation and also does drivers Ed and SAT prep and then applies to schools all with their help)
But the point here is to introduce my lovely one to the world. Here in Cracey's world, she is well known and respected, but she has been nearly ejected from time to time because as all offspring, there were times she simply did not understand that she was in MY world and that the rules or whatever those crazy people at school were telling her did not always mesh.. BUT thankfully, she was able to maintain her residency in great standing and this is a poem I wrote that should explain how I feel anyway, the beautiful creature I have let loose into your world:
To see your face upon waking everyday
From the beginning always filled me with wonder
Daily and momentarily, I was enthralled! enraptured! captivated!
How could something so perfect come into my path?
All the baby things you did were better than the other kids
(Even if I exaggerate a little)
You talked early; way before those books said you would!
And bypassed toddling; who you stumble?
jumping from crawling right to walking
Every grade in school, every piece of artwork
Was proof of your genius and talent
Every new idea, every thought shared, was tantamount
to a Presidential speech!
No one could compare; and how ever could I share?
This beautiful creature I caused to exist!?
I yearned for the moments you'd curl in my lap
and the hours spent doing your hair
Every dinner I cooked, every floor I mopped
was payment for the gift with me GOD had shared
Never did I mind the dollars and cents
Nor the worrying at emergency room visits
Never would I trade the few teenage rebellions
nor the years in Atlanta just US
I got to know the child you were even as I guided that development
I encouraged you to have a voice and an opinion
And eagerly watched your personality emergence
And now suddenly; has it been 18 years!!??
You are an adult and are fully bloomed
And even as I look back on those years of your childhood
And want to snatch back a moment, a day, a mood
I also look forward and truly cannot wait to know you as a woman as well!!
LOVE YA CEES!!!
~Stacey Thompson
I was just thinking how I make many references to Ciarin yet I have not introduced her!! Ciarin Anne Marie is my one and only beautiful, 18 year old daughter. I always wanted to be a writer, but when I had her, I felt like I needed to be wholly and fully available for her. I focused on careers and jobs and schedules, and while I won't say I sacrificed my written voice, (I read a quote by Chris Rock that put the word sacrifice in perspective. He said something like he never says he sacrificed anything for his children because the word itself implies he could have been doing something better) I will say that I mistakenly believed that I could put it off and wait until I raised her. I say mistakenly because I realize that as strong and strong willed and determined as I am, I could have made it work. BUT she is now an adult and on her own (in the JobCorp program in what they call a College track program where she learns her vocation and also does drivers Ed and SAT prep and then applies to schools all with their help)
But the point here is to introduce my lovely one to the world. Here in Cracey's world, she is well known and respected, but she has been nearly ejected from time to time because as all offspring, there were times she simply did not understand that she was in MY world and that the rules or whatever those crazy people at school were telling her did not always mesh.. BUT thankfully, she was able to maintain her residency in great standing and this is a poem I wrote that should explain how I feel anyway, the beautiful creature I have let loose into your world:
To see your face upon waking everyday
From the beginning always filled me with wonder
Daily and momentarily, I was enthralled! enraptured! captivated!
How could something so perfect come into my path?
All the baby things you did were better than the other kids
(Even if I exaggerate a little)
You talked early; way before those books said you would!
And bypassed toddling; who you stumble?
jumping from crawling right to walking
Every grade in school, every piece of artwork
Was proof of your genius and talent
Every new idea, every thought shared, was tantamount
to a Presidential speech!
No one could compare; and how ever could I share?
This beautiful creature I caused to exist!?
I yearned for the moments you'd curl in my lap
and the hours spent doing your hair
Every dinner I cooked, every floor I mopped
was payment for the gift with me GOD had shared
Never did I mind the dollars and cents
Nor the worrying at emergency room visits
Never would I trade the few teenage rebellions
nor the years in Atlanta just US
I got to know the child you were even as I guided that development
I encouraged you to have a voice and an opinion
And eagerly watched your personality emergence
And now suddenly; has it been 18 years!!??
You are an adult and are fully bloomed
And even as I look back on those years of your childhood
And want to snatch back a moment, a day, a mood
I also look forward and truly cannot wait to know you as a woman as well!!
LOVE YA CEES!!!
~Stacey Thompson
Ciarin
Good day world!
I realized suddenly that I have made many a reference to Ciarin and yet have not introduced her. She is my one an donly beautiful talented, all around GREAT and amazing 18 year old daughter so without further ado, allow me to present..... Ciarin Annemarie; my greatest achievement...
I realized suddenly that I have made many a reference to Ciarin and yet have not introduced her. She is my one an donly beautiful talented, all around GREAT and amazing 18 year old daughter so without further ado, allow me to present..... Ciarin Annemarie; my greatest achievement...
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Veteran's Day
Hello all!
Ok Ok Ok..
So I am a day late, but being a VETERAN, I hope you can forgive me. I AM a US veteran, in that I served in the United States Army as a reservist. Even though I qualify for NOTHING (only did 6 months training and then was an IRR soldier for a few years), technically, unless you serve a full year of ACTIVE duty, you are not considered a veteran as far as claiming anything. I was rejected at the VA even though I sure did get shin splints from the ceaseless marching we did in training, and then 4 months later, I received a letter saying, yes, we must care for any medical condition you sustained while in training or on active duty regardless of....
Whatever.. The point is that I am a veteran and these are my particular feelings on Veterans Day; or at least how we in CraceysWorld see the holiday..
I grew up in NY and was raised to be inclusive of those different cultures and holidays around me. I remember having off from school not only on 'major' holidays, but also all the Jewish holidays and secondary holidays as well. Imagine my utter and total surprise when I moved to Atlanta Ga. that the kids had to go to school on Veteran's DAY!!?? I was shocked and appalled. I kind of got it that they did not 'celebrate' ANY Jewish holiday; I mean I guess I got it, and it was not my intention to reinvent the way they live or anything. Not to mention that I understood very early into my move that the Northern states were just way more advanced in their ways and thinking than the South. (that is for another day believe you me; I have PLENTY to say about their way of life and thinking) But Veteran's Day? Really? Did they not lose sons and fathers in both World Wars?! Aren't there like a billion retired vets living in the South and if so where was their disgust that the school system, an agency that functions wholly through our government at some point in the money train, was totally disrespectful in the rest of the countries celebration of our vets!?
Well, I was disgusted and I did what any resident of Craceys World should do. I interjected MY way of life fully and without apology into THIS world; (a trait I have exercised and perfected from since I was a wee lass) I refused to send my daughter to school on Veteran's day. I was questioned; of course, by the Oh so tyrannical truancy department of her school (both junior and high school) and they were adamant that she needed a note to excuse her absence. I say tyrannical because on many occasion, I received a note home chastising me; the parent who makes the decisions in MY child's life, that with 4 absences, Ciarin was becoming an attendance issue. (ok, that also will be another story to be told later)
To remedy this and to have Ciarin's attendance rightfully explained and to keep myself from having to interject a little humility to yet another school official in Georgia, I would send Ciarin to school the day after EVERY Labor Day with this note;
To Whom it may concern,
Please excuse my daughter, Ciarin from school yesterday. It was; perhaps due to an oversight on your entire state's part you were not aware, Veteran's Day and being that her mom is actually a US Veteran, I thought that perhaps with the rest of the country, or at least with our hometown of NY, where they do appreciate and celebrate Veteran's, that she would not be able to make it yesterday. Schools are supposed to be closed, except her in the BIBLE belt, it seems that this too escaped your notice.
Please feel free to contact me with any questions or concerns regarding this matter. Of course, there should be none, since the above prose spelled it out for you.
Sincerely, Stacey Thompson
I never did receive a call or concern about her absence on this particular day, but I must say, for whatever goal it did NOT achieve, this act of defiance on my part was worth it, if only for the glee and effusive pride my daughter would have when she got to stay home on this day because 'my mommy is a veteran.'
Happy Veteran's Day everyone to all the Veterans recognized or not!! Thank you sincerely for your service and sacrifices!
~Stacey Thompson
Ok Ok Ok..
So I am a day late, but being a VETERAN, I hope you can forgive me. I AM a US veteran, in that I served in the United States Army as a reservist. Even though I qualify for NOTHING (only did 6 months training and then was an IRR soldier for a few years), technically, unless you serve a full year of ACTIVE duty, you are not considered a veteran as far as claiming anything. I was rejected at the VA even though I sure did get shin splints from the ceaseless marching we did in training, and then 4 months later, I received a letter saying, yes, we must care for any medical condition you sustained while in training or on active duty regardless of....
Whatever.. The point is that I am a veteran and these are my particular feelings on Veterans Day; or at least how we in CraceysWorld see the holiday..
I grew up in NY and was raised to be inclusive of those different cultures and holidays around me. I remember having off from school not only on 'major' holidays, but also all the Jewish holidays and secondary holidays as well. Imagine my utter and total surprise when I moved to Atlanta Ga. that the kids had to go to school on Veteran's DAY!!?? I was shocked and appalled. I kind of got it that they did not 'celebrate' ANY Jewish holiday; I mean I guess I got it, and it was not my intention to reinvent the way they live or anything. Not to mention that I understood very early into my move that the Northern states were just way more advanced in their ways and thinking than the South. (that is for another day believe you me; I have PLENTY to say about their way of life and thinking) But Veteran's Day? Really? Did they not lose sons and fathers in both World Wars?! Aren't there like a billion retired vets living in the South and if so where was their disgust that the school system, an agency that functions wholly through our government at some point in the money train, was totally disrespectful in the rest of the countries celebration of our vets!?
Well, I was disgusted and I did what any resident of Craceys World should do. I interjected MY way of life fully and without apology into THIS world; (a trait I have exercised and perfected from since I was a wee lass) I refused to send my daughter to school on Veteran's day. I was questioned; of course, by the Oh so tyrannical truancy department of her school (both junior and high school) and they were adamant that she needed a note to excuse her absence. I say tyrannical because on many occasion, I received a note home chastising me; the parent who makes the decisions in MY child's life, that with 4 absences, Ciarin was becoming an attendance issue. (ok, that also will be another story to be told later)
To remedy this and to have Ciarin's attendance rightfully explained and to keep myself from having to interject a little humility to yet another school official in Georgia, I would send Ciarin to school the day after EVERY Labor Day with this note;
To Whom it may concern,
Please excuse my daughter, Ciarin from school yesterday. It was; perhaps due to an oversight on your entire state's part you were not aware, Veteran's Day and being that her mom is actually a US Veteran, I thought that perhaps with the rest of the country, or at least with our hometown of NY, where they do appreciate and celebrate Veteran's, that she would not be able to make it yesterday. Schools are supposed to be closed, except her in the BIBLE belt, it seems that this too escaped your notice.
Please feel free to contact me with any questions or concerns regarding this matter. Of course, there should be none, since the above prose spelled it out for you.
Sincerely, Stacey Thompson
I never did receive a call or concern about her absence on this particular day, but I must say, for whatever goal it did NOT achieve, this act of defiance on my part was worth it, if only for the glee and effusive pride my daughter would have when she got to stay home on this day because 'my mommy is a veteran.'
Happy Veteran's Day everyone to all the Veterans recognized or not!! Thank you sincerely for your service and sacrifices!
~Stacey Thompson
Sunday, November 10, 2013
English as a FIRST language
Hello world! I have been pondering on this subject for a long time, and it was just yesterday when I was speaking to a friend (my SISTER!) +amanda calabrese and we brought it up that I realized I was not entirely alone in my thinking.
Here on CRACEYSWORLD, my opinion is so well respected and even revered, that sometimes I want to keep it here lest someone in the REAL world take offense, BUT since you are visiting, you may as well hear some of the local conversation...
I am an American. I am very proud of my country. I was born and raised here, and I was in the US Army where I gained an even deeper and more profound respect for America and its history, power, and accomplishments. I am mixed with Black and Italian and I have an entire extended family of Puerto Rican since my Little brother has a little bit of that in him as well. I grew up in Yonkers, NY where we share a border with the Bronx. I probably do not need to say that many of my friends are Hispanic. (I know, 'I'm not racist I have Black friends'~cliche, but oh well) My best friend since HS is Spanish, and one of my great friends I met later in life is from Holland. Saying all that is just to say that I myself speak enough Spanish to communicate and articulate my needs, but being born here in America, the language is supposed to be English right? In school one of the course names was English as a second language!!?? Really?? Here? In America?? SECOND language my man, wow...
Anyway, there are many things we can improve on, but there's this one thing that bothers me on a daily basis, and I think moving here to California, where a shared border is maybe 2 hours away, it just becomes more prevalent...
How disrespectful is it to come to a place and not learn the language!!?? Like seriously! And the more burning question is when does it become less a courtesy to oblige those who speak another language to more of an obligation to accommodate??!! I mean, you don't go visit China and they bend over backwards to accommodate your lack of understanding! You get a damn English/Chinese dictionary and figure it the hell out! In stores where I shop the announcements come on in English, and then replay in Spanish! Billboards in some sections of my hometown are ONLY in SPANISH!!!?? Like are you fricking kidding me? There's a McDonald's in Yonkers where I promise you if you do not speak Spanish, you will have a big issue getting some food because NONE of the employees understand English!! I call my cell phone provider for assistance in tech support and some indignant stuffy dude from India tells me HE cannot understand ME!?
I am not saying anything against immigrants or foreign people at all. I think it is beautiful and even gracious and a fact to be proud of that America is known, and has been known to allow anyone to come here and partake of the American dream, but I still think it so very disrespectful to come here, utilize all that we have to offer, yet have the audacity to NOT learn a lick of English, and THEN we as a society, a country, TAKE that. We don't demand a little respect, we don't even expect it! No. We accommodate it. Go to any job site and more than 50 percent of the jobs require you to be bilingual!! REALLY!!?? It's not enough that I am an American and speak the language of the land!!?? I gotta learn to communicate and accommodate those who don't have to courtesy to learn OUR ways and OUR language.
I'll give you this example and then you decide if you wanna go buy a damn Rosetta Stone pack (or 3) and learn another language to fit in to OUR country. If I went to a retail store (pick one) and spent 2000.00 and get up to the register and the clerk says (in English) 'that'll be 2000.00." and I pulled out euros, is she gonna ACCOMMODATE me and accept my euros?? HELL NO! She is going to suggest I take my self to a bank or other financial institution and get the correct currency for the damn country I am in!!
SOOOO...
I may not say it out loud but I will say it here in the comforts of my world (where English is the first language) I wish all the people who LIVE here an have made AMERICA their home, would carry their sorry selves to the community college (or any educational institution) and learn English! And to top it all off, there are many, many government and state funded programs that provide this for free...
Damn, since we don't speak any other language here in Cracey's world, I cannot even translate that to accommodate my non English speaking visitors... HOW RUDE OF ME!!!
~Stacey
Here on CRACEYSWORLD, my opinion is so well respected and even revered, that sometimes I want to keep it here lest someone in the REAL world take offense, BUT since you are visiting, you may as well hear some of the local conversation...
I am an American. I am very proud of my country. I was born and raised here, and I was in the US Army where I gained an even deeper and more profound respect for America and its history, power, and accomplishments. I am mixed with Black and Italian and I have an entire extended family of Puerto Rican since my Little brother has a little bit of that in him as well. I grew up in Yonkers, NY where we share a border with the Bronx. I probably do not need to say that many of my friends are Hispanic. (I know, 'I'm not racist I have Black friends'~cliche, but oh well) My best friend since HS is Spanish, and one of my great friends I met later in life is from Holland. Saying all that is just to say that I myself speak enough Spanish to communicate and articulate my needs, but being born here in America, the language is supposed to be English right? In school one of the course names was English as a second language!!?? Really?? Here? In America?? SECOND language my man, wow...
Anyway, there are many things we can improve on, but there's this one thing that bothers me on a daily basis, and I think moving here to California, where a shared border is maybe 2 hours away, it just becomes more prevalent...
How disrespectful is it to come to a place and not learn the language!!?? Like seriously! And the more burning question is when does it become less a courtesy to oblige those who speak another language to more of an obligation to accommodate??!! I mean, you don't go visit China and they bend over backwards to accommodate your lack of understanding! You get a damn English/Chinese dictionary and figure it the hell out! In stores where I shop the announcements come on in English, and then replay in Spanish! Billboards in some sections of my hometown are ONLY in SPANISH!!!?? Like are you fricking kidding me? There's a McDonald's in Yonkers where I promise you if you do not speak Spanish, you will have a big issue getting some food because NONE of the employees understand English!! I call my cell phone provider for assistance in tech support and some indignant stuffy dude from India tells me HE cannot understand ME!?
I am not saying anything against immigrants or foreign people at all. I think it is beautiful and even gracious and a fact to be proud of that America is known, and has been known to allow anyone to come here and partake of the American dream, but I still think it so very disrespectful to come here, utilize all that we have to offer, yet have the audacity to NOT learn a lick of English, and THEN we as a society, a country, TAKE that. We don't demand a little respect, we don't even expect it! No. We accommodate it. Go to any job site and more than 50 percent of the jobs require you to be bilingual!! REALLY!!?? It's not enough that I am an American and speak the language of the land!!?? I gotta learn to communicate and accommodate those who don't have to courtesy to learn OUR ways and OUR language.
I'll give you this example and then you decide if you wanna go buy a damn Rosetta Stone pack (or 3) and learn another language to fit in to OUR country. If I went to a retail store (pick one) and spent 2000.00 and get up to the register and the clerk says (in English) 'that'll be 2000.00." and I pulled out euros, is she gonna ACCOMMODATE me and accept my euros?? HELL NO! She is going to suggest I take my self to a bank or other financial institution and get the correct currency for the damn country I am in!!
SOOOO...
I may not say it out loud but I will say it here in the comforts of my world (where English is the first language) I wish all the people who LIVE here an have made AMERICA their home, would carry their sorry selves to the community college (or any educational institution) and learn English! And to top it all off, there are many, many government and state funded programs that provide this for free...
Damn, since we don't speak any other language here in Cracey's world, I cannot even translate that to accommodate my non English speaking visitors... HOW RUDE OF ME!!!
~Stacey
Saturday, November 9, 2013
GOODNIGHT WORLD
now I lay me down to dream
the world receded from what is seen
what is revealed is all I perceive
all the desires; rewards due unto me
I envision riches beyond what I ever knew
And coins of gold which I can swim through
Fancy ladies dressed all in white
and saving me from all is my very own shiny Knight
Spotted and whimsical, animals miraculously chatter
Interchanging facts, fiction, truth; it does not matter
Flitting above fairies grant wishes and desires
And below where we stand, giant woodsmen tend to fire
Sighing so deeply as I reach REM
Immersed in my dreams and what I can make of them
Everyday I wonder and reach new plateaus
And every night I surrender into lands unknown
~Stacey Thompson
the world receded from what is seen
what is revealed is all I perceive
all the desires; rewards due unto me
I envision riches beyond what I ever knew
And coins of gold which I can swim through
Fancy ladies dressed all in white
and saving me from all is my very own shiny Knight
Spotted and whimsical, animals miraculously chatter
Interchanging facts, fiction, truth; it does not matter
Flitting above fairies grant wishes and desires
And below where we stand, giant woodsmen tend to fire
Sighing so deeply as I reach REM
Immersed in my dreams and what I can make of them
Everyday I wonder and reach new plateaus
And every night I surrender into lands unknown
~Stacey Thompson
Friday, November 8, 2013
How a good thing goes bad...
GOOD MORNING PEOPLE!!
SO the other day I'm on the Long beach transit bus and I put in my little 4.oo for a day pass. Well the machine is broken, and does not spit out my little card. I'm in a pretty good mood today so I take it in stride and look to the bus driver to solve this issue. Even though I am pressed for time (I am trying to get to downtown LA and visit my DIVA thank u very much!), I stay cool. So the bus driver says where are you getting off at? I tell him and he goes just sit down and Ima work it out for you. Ok. I trust that. A moment later he yells out (mad loud) Hey lady (lady?!! what happened to miss?) SO I say Stacey and ignore all the stupid people staring and in my business. Usually I get all indignant and would say what the ----. But again, I am in a great mood. I got my coffee that the bus driver let me get on the bus with and a good book AND I am going to see my Diva so....
He is on the phone with the supervisor and he is describing me (not very flatteringly I might add) saying, 'yes, she has a huge orange purse (it is not that big) and she's real tall and skinny.' (did that mofo just call me SKINNY??!!) alas, I am in a GREAT mood soo...
He pulls over at an undesignated bus stop, turns to me and says, ok just wait here at the 51 bus stop and they are gonna get you a day pass. A day pass is what my 4.oo dollars was for~a pass that allows you to ride any Long Beach bus all day. SO I am a bit confused and I ask if I am supposed to get on the 51 and I explain that I was trying to get the train next so I kind of do not wanna go outta my way. He says 'Oh, no I'm sorry, (big smile) The supervisor is going to come in a white jeep and bring you one.' I get off the bus and wait and low and behold, not even 2 minutes later, a white jeep indeed pulls up and a nice man gives me a paper transfer and says that this will suffice for a day pass, just let any bus driver I come across know what happened. I was skeptical, but I DID feel like this was amazing! These guys went out of their way to compensate me and were time considerate and everything. I made the next train and went about my way.
Now, you cannot use the LB pass on LA transit so I went downtown, visited with the DIVA, (had a great time) and began my journey home. Since I had a day pass, I was going to got to the supermarket, then home. That required me taking 3 buses once I hit long beach. The first bus, no problem. they accepted my story and allowed me to keep the paper transfer; next bus, same thing. I explained the story briefly and again, no problem. I get on the last bus, and come across this old mad at the world black lady. I show her the transfer and she attempts to take it and I say, "No. you aren't supposed to keep it, the supervisor came and brought it to me because the machine did not spit out a day pass card.' She again tries to snatch it from my grasp, and I thwart her because I am swift like that, and she says nastily, 'Well let me SEE it!" By see it, I assume she means hold it because with those big thick glasses I am pretty sure she can see my skeleton so I hand it to her..
Now mind you, this is the LAST bus I need to take today. I could have easily just let her HAVE it and who cares? B U T, its the principality people! The fact that she accused me of being a liar and a con woman with her next remark...
"Well there aint nothing written on here! He aint write nothing saying it's a day pass..." She still has my paper transfer day pass in her clutches so I SNATCH it back (again, that swiftness, gotta be quicker people!) and I say to HER, "That is not my problem, maybe you can bring it up at the next meeting, but you are the only bus driver in the city making life hard when everyone else took the dang pass and kept it moving, so... KEEP IT MOVING!" and I sat down, paper transfer day pass that I didn't need anymore happily in hand smiling.
I must say that the staff at LBT went out of their way to rectify what could have been a big thorn in my side and I appreciated it up until that point. I even wrote a nice letter and mailed it to their offices. But I just wanted to share how a GREAT gesture by many could easily be undermined by one sour ole prune! But, did I mention, I maintained my GREAT mood ALLLL day!!!??
SO the other day I'm on the Long beach transit bus and I put in my little 4.oo for a day pass. Well the machine is broken, and does not spit out my little card. I'm in a pretty good mood today so I take it in stride and look to the bus driver to solve this issue. Even though I am pressed for time (I am trying to get to downtown LA and visit my DIVA thank u very much!), I stay cool. So the bus driver says where are you getting off at? I tell him and he goes just sit down and Ima work it out for you. Ok. I trust that. A moment later he yells out (mad loud) Hey lady (lady?!! what happened to miss?) SO I say Stacey and ignore all the stupid people staring and in my business. Usually I get all indignant and would say what the ----. But again, I am in a great mood. I got my coffee that the bus driver let me get on the bus with and a good book AND I am going to see my Diva so....
He is on the phone with the supervisor and he is describing me (not very flatteringly I might add) saying, 'yes, she has a huge orange purse (it is not that big) and she's real tall and skinny.' (did that mofo just call me SKINNY??!!) alas, I am in a GREAT mood soo...
He pulls over at an undesignated bus stop, turns to me and says, ok just wait here at the 51 bus stop and they are gonna get you a day pass. A day pass is what my 4.oo dollars was for~a pass that allows you to ride any Long Beach bus all day. SO I am a bit confused and I ask if I am supposed to get on the 51 and I explain that I was trying to get the train next so I kind of do not wanna go outta my way. He says 'Oh, no I'm sorry, (big smile) The supervisor is going to come in a white jeep and bring you one.' I get off the bus and wait and low and behold, not even 2 minutes later, a white jeep indeed pulls up and a nice man gives me a paper transfer and says that this will suffice for a day pass, just let any bus driver I come across know what happened. I was skeptical, but I DID feel like this was amazing! These guys went out of their way to compensate me and were time considerate and everything. I made the next train and went about my way.
Now, you cannot use the LB pass on LA transit so I went downtown, visited with the DIVA, (had a great time) and began my journey home. Since I had a day pass, I was going to got to the supermarket, then home. That required me taking 3 buses once I hit long beach. The first bus, no problem. they accepted my story and allowed me to keep the paper transfer; next bus, same thing. I explained the story briefly and again, no problem. I get on the last bus, and come across this old mad at the world black lady. I show her the transfer and she attempts to take it and I say, "No. you aren't supposed to keep it, the supervisor came and brought it to me because the machine did not spit out a day pass card.' She again tries to snatch it from my grasp, and I thwart her because I am swift like that, and she says nastily, 'Well let me SEE it!" By see it, I assume she means hold it because with those big thick glasses I am pretty sure she can see my skeleton so I hand it to her..
Now mind you, this is the LAST bus I need to take today. I could have easily just let her HAVE it and who cares? B U T, its the principality people! The fact that she accused me of being a liar and a con woman with her next remark...
"Well there aint nothing written on here! He aint write nothing saying it's a day pass..." She still has my paper transfer day pass in her clutches so I SNATCH it back (again, that swiftness, gotta be quicker people!) and I say to HER, "That is not my problem, maybe you can bring it up at the next meeting, but you are the only bus driver in the city making life hard when everyone else took the dang pass and kept it moving, so... KEEP IT MOVING!" and I sat down, paper transfer day pass that I didn't need anymore happily in hand smiling.
I must say that the staff at LBT went out of their way to rectify what could have been a big thorn in my side and I appreciated it up until that point. I even wrote a nice letter and mailed it to their offices. But I just wanted to share how a GREAT gesture by many could easily be undermined by one sour ole prune! But, did I mention, I maintained my GREAT mood ALLLL day!!!??
Thursday, November 7, 2013
Good kids; Bad kids
I was sitting here watching beyond scared straight. The kids on here really do need help and in many cases, they do not go into the family background and dynamics, even though that most likely has a lot to do with their behavior.
And it got me to thinking..
When we moved here to Cali, I saw an ad at a school for this community action program for young adults that seemed like a good place for Ciarin to go as she found what it was she wanted to do. She is 18, we are on the broke level and we were now residents, and that spelled out the criteria for qualification. We did all the paperwork and Cees was accepted.. or so we thought.
We went back 6 different times attempting to get her qualified. What we were lacking was a traumatic event such as homelessness, abuse, police contact, among other pitfalls that teens experience, and it struck me that here we were trying to get her into a positive active community program that my tax dollars pay for but simply by virtue of her being a GOOD kid, there was nothing available to her?
I find that hard to digest. Shouldn't there be equal opportunity for all kids? Because she followed all the rules and did the right thing, yet was at a crossroads with where she was headed after HS, was she doomed to just sit home or get a part time job because all of the community and government programs were reserved for those with 'issues'?
Some say that's good because why would I want her to be in the danger of being influenced by these types. I say how about those kids may well be influenced by HER and her well developed sense of right and wrong and steering clear of the dangers that can befall them. I say maybe by allowing these so called 'good' kids to interact and participate in these programs, maybe we are giving them a better chance at success. Don't we see it everyday when prisoners grouped together pick up each others traits? Let's try a different approach and mix a little of the different element in there and I am so confident in my child's abilities and self control that I am willing to allow her to be the guinea pig!
Needless to say, she was finally accepted after we played up an incident she had in HS where a bunch of girls tried to jump her. It finally cleared and she was allowed into the program, BUT alas, she had already made a decision on her future and is now on her way in her next step in achieving her goals, but I cannot help but wonder, had she not been so discouraged, so singled out and been ostracized for doing the RIGHT thing throughout her teenage years, maybe she would have made a difference in a few of these troubled kids lives... but hey.. we will never know.
~Stacey
And it got me to thinking..
When we moved here to Cali, I saw an ad at a school for this community action program for young adults that seemed like a good place for Ciarin to go as she found what it was she wanted to do. She is 18, we are on the broke level and we were now residents, and that spelled out the criteria for qualification. We did all the paperwork and Cees was accepted.. or so we thought.
We went back 6 different times attempting to get her qualified. What we were lacking was a traumatic event such as homelessness, abuse, police contact, among other pitfalls that teens experience, and it struck me that here we were trying to get her into a positive active community program that my tax dollars pay for but simply by virtue of her being a GOOD kid, there was nothing available to her?
I find that hard to digest. Shouldn't there be equal opportunity for all kids? Because she followed all the rules and did the right thing, yet was at a crossroads with where she was headed after HS, was she doomed to just sit home or get a part time job because all of the community and government programs were reserved for those with 'issues'?
Some say that's good because why would I want her to be in the danger of being influenced by these types. I say how about those kids may well be influenced by HER and her well developed sense of right and wrong and steering clear of the dangers that can befall them. I say maybe by allowing these so called 'good' kids to interact and participate in these programs, maybe we are giving them a better chance at success. Don't we see it everyday when prisoners grouped together pick up each others traits? Let's try a different approach and mix a little of the different element in there and I am so confident in my child's abilities and self control that I am willing to allow her to be the guinea pig!
Needless to say, she was finally accepted after we played up an incident she had in HS where a bunch of girls tried to jump her. It finally cleared and she was allowed into the program, BUT alas, she had already made a decision on her future and is now on her way in her next step in achieving her goals, but I cannot help but wonder, had she not been so discouraged, so singled out and been ostracized for doing the RIGHT thing throughout her teenage years, maybe she would have made a difference in a few of these troubled kids lives... but hey.. we will never know.
~Stacey
Good day all. I just wanted to share my opinions... (Don't I always?)
The other day I was at work and I was minding my business; WORKING, and I see a Black woman rushing by, coffee cup in hand. She was dressed in what I think SHE considered business casual, but I thought was desperate fashionable. She wore a long denim jean skirt (eeelk) with these high; sky high, black, Herman Munster heel boots. Her jacket and shirt were both boxy and ill fitting. While I am NOT a weave expert, I can say as a person with hair, that her weave was NOT the kind that lasts past 30 days and ummm, let's just say she was on day 45, easy...
Now this description may seem harsh, but THAT'S what the sister had on, period. Sorry if I call it like I see it. It may also seem after my story, that maybe I was bitter and more prone to be discriminative. Not at all. Has she been the nicest, sweetest lady on earth, the fact would have remained that she was what we in the modern era call, a HATER. Haters usually have no basis for their hate and in some cases they do have a daily target for their hate, but being haters, they follow their nature and just hate on whatever feeds their inner insecurities; in this case, it happened to be little ole me. Minding my business, doing my work...
This woman was from the corporate office. She visits stores and ensures that the displays and items are in what corporate considers an array that is customer friendly and sales gratifying. There is no set protocol for how things should be set up, but there are some policies and company 'suggestions' in which sales items and displays should be set up. The woman NEVER spoke to me or anyone that I saw; indeed she was several feet away from me and never looked up in my direction while , as you can see from MY description, I saw her and observed her well. Later, my manger comes to me and says, 'Hey Stacey, that woman there (she points) is from corporate and she comes down to do visits like we explained at orientation. (I laughed inside because WHAT orientation??!!) Anyway, she said she said hello and good morning to you and you never answered her or acknowledged her." I assured my manager, Vivian, that the woman was lying, and she never spoke or addressed me in anyway. She did not know my name (I wear a name tag) which was further proof that she never came close enough to me to even know my name displayed on a large red and white square on my breast. My manager states that she didn't believe that since I have a sterling reputation as customer friendly and going out if my way to greet and assist customers even when it is not my area of expertise, on break, or near any circumstance.
Now, I was so angry for the rest of the day. What is it about Black women that we have the need, the desire to be so hateful to one another? To go so far as to LIE and invent a situation that never happened to try to undermine another sister? I mean obviously, I am in a position that she doesn't envy, obviously she cannot compare my fashion to her lack of fashion (even though I DO make my khakis and black shirt look good, if I may say so myself :) It sickens me that this woman could not look at me, entry level and say to herself, 'look at that sister working HARD, and doing that menial job with pride. Maybe I should go over and say hi, introduce myself. Let her see from my presence that there is room for growth in this company. Tell her my story and motivate and encourage her to get where I am." UHUH. Sister girl couldn't do THAT because she was so filled with hate and jealousy. I cannot say what she was jealous of. I am not conceited enough to say I am beautiful and elicit envy in every woman that sees me, but I AM confident enough to understand that something; whether it was my looks, my air of confidence and serenity, or simply something SHE lacked and perceived me to have, made her go out of her way to attempt to slur me, mar me, undermine me and my worth to my employer, with no provocation at all.
I hope that reading this, someone, acknowledges to themselves that they have been this woman; I know I have once or twice, and that they defy it in themselves. The next time you are at work and you see a new face, a new woman that cause you to be unsteady in your confidence, loose in your otherwise secure moorings, don't blame HER, blame YOU, and go over and say hello. Give her a chance to show you that maybe YOU have to check you. Your perceived instant defense of this woman is not her fault, it's in you and you can counteract that natural instinct to be a hater by being an example, being kind, and being bigger than that little girl that lives in all of us that just wants to push that cute ponytail bobbing bitch in the dirt on the playground. Rise above that little girl and show YOURSELF that you are a strong, accomplished woman...
And if the woman you are attempting to help rise up doesn't receive your praise and gesture appropriately? Well then, show the ungrateful B who's boss~Just don't lie!!
~Stacey Thompson
The other day I was at work and I was minding my business; WORKING, and I see a Black woman rushing by, coffee cup in hand. She was dressed in what I think SHE considered business casual, but I thought was desperate fashionable. She wore a long denim jean skirt (eeelk) with these high; sky high, black, Herman Munster heel boots. Her jacket and shirt were both boxy and ill fitting. While I am NOT a weave expert, I can say as a person with hair, that her weave was NOT the kind that lasts past 30 days and ummm, let's just say she was on day 45, easy...
Now this description may seem harsh, but THAT'S what the sister had on, period. Sorry if I call it like I see it. It may also seem after my story, that maybe I was bitter and more prone to be discriminative. Not at all. Has she been the nicest, sweetest lady on earth, the fact would have remained that she was what we in the modern era call, a HATER. Haters usually have no basis for their hate and in some cases they do have a daily target for their hate, but being haters, they follow their nature and just hate on whatever feeds their inner insecurities; in this case, it happened to be little ole me. Minding my business, doing my work...
This woman was from the corporate office. She visits stores and ensures that the displays and items are in what corporate considers an array that is customer friendly and sales gratifying. There is no set protocol for how things should be set up, but there are some policies and company 'suggestions' in which sales items and displays should be set up. The woman NEVER spoke to me or anyone that I saw; indeed she was several feet away from me and never looked up in my direction while , as you can see from MY description, I saw her and observed her well. Later, my manger comes to me and says, 'Hey Stacey, that woman there (she points) is from corporate and she comes down to do visits like we explained at orientation. (I laughed inside because WHAT orientation??!!) Anyway, she said she said hello and good morning to you and you never answered her or acknowledged her." I assured my manager, Vivian, that the woman was lying, and she never spoke or addressed me in anyway. She did not know my name (I wear a name tag) which was further proof that she never came close enough to me to even know my name displayed on a large red and white square on my breast. My manager states that she didn't believe that since I have a sterling reputation as customer friendly and going out if my way to greet and assist customers even when it is not my area of expertise, on break, or near any circumstance.
Now, I was so angry for the rest of the day. What is it about Black women that we have the need, the desire to be so hateful to one another? To go so far as to LIE and invent a situation that never happened to try to undermine another sister? I mean obviously, I am in a position that she doesn't envy, obviously she cannot compare my fashion to her lack of fashion (even though I DO make my khakis and black shirt look good, if I may say so myself :) It sickens me that this woman could not look at me, entry level and say to herself, 'look at that sister working HARD, and doing that menial job with pride. Maybe I should go over and say hi, introduce myself. Let her see from my presence that there is room for growth in this company. Tell her my story and motivate and encourage her to get where I am." UHUH. Sister girl couldn't do THAT because she was so filled with hate and jealousy. I cannot say what she was jealous of. I am not conceited enough to say I am beautiful and elicit envy in every woman that sees me, but I AM confident enough to understand that something; whether it was my looks, my air of confidence and serenity, or simply something SHE lacked and perceived me to have, made her go out of her way to attempt to slur me, mar me, undermine me and my worth to my employer, with no provocation at all.
I hope that reading this, someone, acknowledges to themselves that they have been this woman; I know I have once or twice, and that they defy it in themselves. The next time you are at work and you see a new face, a new woman that cause you to be unsteady in your confidence, loose in your otherwise secure moorings, don't blame HER, blame YOU, and go over and say hello. Give her a chance to show you that maybe YOU have to check you. Your perceived instant defense of this woman is not her fault, it's in you and you can counteract that natural instinct to be a hater by being an example, being kind, and being bigger than that little girl that lives in all of us that just wants to push that cute ponytail bobbing bitch in the dirt on the playground. Rise above that little girl and show YOURSELF that you are a strong, accomplished woman...
And if the woman you are attempting to help rise up doesn't receive your praise and gesture appropriately? Well then, show the ungrateful B who's boss~Just don't lie!!
~Stacey Thompson
Thursday, October 17, 2013
New beginnings
I am new to blogging and decided that I was going to just use my given talents for writing and express myself that way....
Let's see how it works out!
Cracey's World
I moved to California less than 3 months ago. No job, no friends, a few family members who's support was emphatically promised but precariously given. But you know what? I am an adventurer! I soooo disliked Atlanta where I had been living for the past 6 1/2 years and I have always loved the beach. Not to mention that some of my family was here and I convinced myself that they were as thirsty for family ties and connections that I had become. What I did NOT consider was that I had been in Georgia for all that time with NO family and I was probably suffering from homesickness,
BUT....
No excuses, no regrets. I'm here and so begins my journey... Check into what I experience everyday. Not just the world we live in but the world I am forced to live in... Cracey's World. Trust me, it looks like your world, smells like your world, but in MY world, things often take on a hint of the surreal, the unreal and the REALLLLLLYYYY.!?
Welcome to Cracey's World. No seatbelts or helmets required, but ummmm, they are highly recommended .
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