The Art and Beauty of Climbing Trees...

Just the other day, a friend of mine told me that he had never climbed a tree...blasphemous! He is from a big city and I assume they just don't do things like that there. I sat and thought about how much joy can be found in simply climbing a tree. To tell you the truth, I still climb them when I find one worthy. As a child, the sheer excitement of looking up into an old, tall oak with low boughs and thinking, "I'm gonna tackle you today!" Climbing higher and higher, making sure not to scrape your bare legs on the rugged bark...reaching the top and being amazed how small your house can look...discovering the old frisby and twirling baton (with the streamers on the ends) your brother threw on the roof last year. For a moment, you are a giant and rule the yard! Mmm, for someone who has never done this, they might not understand the joy of finding the perfect bough and eating a snack or reading a book, being hugged by the branches and cool leaves of an old tree. Simple pleasures...

James "J J" Jackson...will be missed

I found out yesterday that a classmate of mine had gotten into a carwreck and was killed. He was such a cool guy: funny, always happy, silly, full of energy...he will definitely, without a doubt be missed.

You know how you remember exactly what you were doing when something really good or really bad happens? What you were wearing, the last thing you said, or what you were thinking about. I remember watching this documentary on Martin Luther King and one of the guys who was there when he was killed recalled how the bullet had severed his necktie and had caused the knot to flip over...it's such a random thought but that's what happens when your brain is stamped with such a strong memory... you remember everything. When I found out about James I was in the office complaining to myself about how I keep breaking my nails and how I wanted them to be nice and long when school starts...in the grand scheme of things, it's such a ridiculous thought...

I had a dream about three days before James passed. I had a dream about a friend of mine's brother (whom I'd never met.) I told her that in the dream her brother was driving around suburban New York ( a place I'd never been) in a white car with dark interior. The seatbelts in the car were hot as if the car had been in the sun but it was nighttime. He had on a black shirt with a blue and white flat billed baseball cap. The dream was really detailed and random. The odd thing is that I told her that in the dream, her brother looked like James (Her brother and James are both New Yorkers). She told me that her brother had bought a white car the other day and he does look like James. She thought it was odd that I described her brother's car and how he looked though I had never seen him, she said I was crazy and we sat there for a minute and didn't say anything, then we changed the subject. The whole conversation happened about 3 days before he was killed. I know she is thinking the same thing I'm thinking now: that we were just talking about James and the car and everything else...we still haven't brought it up...I don't think we ever will...

Whose View?

What is the world coming to? I was watching TV a couple of weeks and ago and came across the now infamous Barbara Walters comment on breastfeeding... she of all people! She's gotta be kidding me! Barbara Walters: a woman respected the world over is embarrassed to allow a woman to discreetly breastfeed in a seat next to her. In a country where women's breasts and butts are strewn across the screen for entertainment, she is upset when a woman is giving sustenance to her child....give me a break! Especially since Ms. Walters (though adopted) is a mother herself and is of an age where her mother had nearly no choice but to breastfeed her; bottle feeding (formula) is a relatively new idea, if her mother hadn't done what the woman next to her was attempting to do, she wouldn't be here... To add insult to injury, the little woman on the show with Walters (forgot her name) exclaimed that she agreed and it made her uncomfortable to watch someone breastfeeding and though she just gave birth, breastfeeding grossed her out...I don't think I'm eloquent enough to fully express my extreme disappointment in these women... The crazy thing is that their fan base is at-home-moms, even if they don't breastfeed, they are more than likely advocates. Why would you alienate them? Think before you speak, America is watching...

Later, I thought it was hilarious seeing all these lactavists whipping out their engorged breasts, feeding their children in public in protest; you gotta love America! Breastfeeding in other countries of the world is as mundane as tying one's shoe. There are so many unnatural things that we women (everyone) proudly engage in everyday, the one thing that actually serves a purpose is frowned upon. From ridiculous talk shows to Jackass, there are millions of things the people of today should be ashamed of, feeding your child, no matter how you do it, should not be one of them...

...This is totally unrelated but does Star Jones know her man... Is a little... well fruity? She has to know right? Just askin'...

Why I love Where I'm From

Just like I have stated in my profie, I love music. I have lived all over the place and have gained respect of all types of music, (even country if you can believe it) specifically music that is native to a certain place, like, DC's gogo or the smooth steppin' music of Chicago (mid-west), Louisiana's zydeco. Even music within the same genre have different sounds, depending on the place: Louisiana, Florida, Texas, similar sounds, definite difference.

I recently went to go see the movie Hustle and Flow with my sisters. It was wonderful. Being from Nashville, I feel that they captured Tennessee, specifically the joys of southern music. I am not knocking anyone or where they are from, but there is such a pulse in Southern rap. No other place can reproduce that. It can get you so hype that you can't help but get crunk! I am a 100% Southern Gal who respects the vibrating bass and vulgar descriptive music; it's poetry to me. "I got a young brown stallion/and she 20 years old/ when I hit it from the back/ I see that hairy a$$hole"...Classic poetry. I have stated my case many times, defending my Southern rap, but as the white boy stated in the movie, it all comes from the Blues. The stuff our parents and grandparents listened to was risque; it was beautiful then, and it's beautiful now. It just has a different beat. Only a Southern rapper can fully express how he is moved by the way a woman specifically looks, dances, walks, and all the rest. I love it! Juvenile politely asking me to "Slow Motion Wit it", Tela asking if I will give him a table dance, Lil' Webbie saying that I look so good that he might have to "strong arm" me, "Girls in the Club (Hos Wit No Clothes) Showing Love" need I say more? To me, they are finding such interesting ways to let me (or any other female) know that he finds us attractive. In an odd way it is a bit flattering and definitely entertaining.

But there is a line to be drawn. If he is calling a girl all out of her name and telling her to get on her knees or some mess like that...well, I can't quite relate to all that. I must agree with my man Chris Rock though. He says that girls will sing along with what might be considered an offensive song but they have no problem with it because the rapper isn't using their name; "he ain't talkin' bout you, he talkin' bout them hos! It's true, I see it the same way. I go out with a friend of mine all the time and she is not a big fan of southern rap, actually she's not a fan of rap at all, but as I explained to her the eloquent manner in which they are actually praising the woman's beauty, she began to respect it, at least a little bit more. Above is a picture of me and Nashville's own Young Buck. I'm a big fan of his and was able to kick it with him for a second (nice guy, perfect skin). Thinking back on when I was little and too young to go into the club (Club Yesterdays...and a million other names, you know how clubs change names every other week), we used to drive around in the parking lot, hot as hell (parking lot pimping before it had a name) and he would be inside performing...the things you remember.

It is essential to portray the importance of the parking lot in southern amusement. Here in Nashville, a parking lot on a summer night, beit WalMart, the skating rink, Wendy's, or the club, is essential. The movie had a great scene with people doing just that. Putting on your best outfit driving around looking in other people's cars, making their cars jump and vibrate with bass and hydraulics, and ducking or running when you hear the occasional gunshots, depending on how many and how close they were... mmm, the good old days.

Something that annoyed me...I was watching MTV and they were I guess going behind the scenes and talking to Memphis folk to have them describe how they get down in the club and defining "crunk" because of Hustle and Flow coming out. Sway...Lord save us, I have never seen a black man so uncomfortable in my life! They would have had better insight with Kurt Loder than this dude! Ya boy, Sway, had no idea what he was doing or talking about! Unfortunately people think the south is full of rednecks, jheri curls, and gold teeth, though there is a truth to every stereotype, only an idiot would think this is how everyone got down. I'm glad that the south is finally being taken seriously because there is so much incredible talent to be discovered and music to be shared. Yes, even booty shakin music...

Oh, what to do...

My sister came to visit with her two children and it was such a delight... It also hurled me into reality. I have always adored children, even when I was one, and planned on having dozens. As a young child I can remember wanting to give my future kids lofty and ridiculous names like walnut and butterscotch; I was going to live in a compound where I could be barefoot and pregnant and not be scoffed at. As I sat with my sister, with her children suckling and crawling all over her, I was moved to continue my plans of someday getting married and multiplying...that was the first day. After my other newhew and niece joined in, the house was literally turned upside down. From peals of laughter, to peeling off dirty pullups, to slipping on banana peels like a cartoon character. Waking up before God intended, attempting to make square meals and knowing if there is one crystal of sugar more than their bodies can tolerate, you will hate yourself for the rest of the day. As I wiped tears and butts I realized If I had four kids, this is what it would be like...I was horrified. I have taken care of children for as long as I can remember but they were always returned to their rightful owners; these wonderful bits of love stayed with me...for weeks. I was salty with myself thinking how naive I had been. Not everyone is cut out for a lot of kids...I thought. But now what do I do. My plan A: Marrying a respectfully wealthy man and raising our 12 children in an old antebellum house with low door handles and a skeleton key might now be out of the picture ( You don't even want to hear my plan B). I mulled it over in my head and nearly hyperventilated when I considered having only two or three. Toward the end of her visit she and I sat on the back porch listening to the cicadas high pitched moan and watched the lightening bugs do their lightening bug things... I looked at my sister nursing her son as he wiggled and gurgled, I smiled at my neices and nephew through the windows laughing and playing with my other sister. I was reminded of that old saying that it takes a village to raise a child. I hate cliched sayings but it couldn't have rang more true for me than it did at that moment. At first, I was overwhelmed thinking that I was unable to do something that I had planned and wanted my entire life; I realized that I am never alone. I have God and my family to see me through. I was reassured by the quiet night we spent talking about our futures and playing with the kids. She calmed me by saying that the supposed boundless energy she seemed to posess comes with time, and though it's tough, being around people who love you, and quiet times like this make it all worthwhile. Hey, maybe it isn't so bad...Don't get me wrong, I grew a couple of more hairs on my chest from the experience but instead of ripping them out, falling to my knees and screaming "Why hath thou forsaken me, Lord Jesus!" I've decided to braid the hair and put little bows on them...