When someone gives you a gift do they still have right to ask or judge how you use it?
The back story: This weekend my kinfolks were in town to celebrate my cousin’s debut entrance into society via a cotillion. Mom came bearing gifts for me, some where requested, some where things only a mom would pick out for their child and of course my personal favorite…a monetary gift! So cut to Sunday the family has gone to a brunch buffet and my uncle has paid for us all to gorge ourselves on crab legs, waffles, shrimp, omelets, etc. At the end of our feast it’s tipping time, everyone is throwing is money on the table, I throw in a $10 bill… End scene.
So I am talking with Mom yesterday about the weekend and other things and during a lull in the conversation my mom says “It really disappointed me that you threw in a $10 bill for a tip yesterday.” Saaaaaaaay what? Are you seriously coming at me like that? I mean I didn’t know which way to go in response to her statement because, despite us both being grown women living in separate houses...she is my mom. I couldn’t give her the snarky response I would have lobed at a peer...like "Well if you are going to be all up in my business then you should have known that I didn’t leave a $10 because I got change from the money in the center." *Sucks Teeth*
But even if I had lost my mind and felt like leaving a $10 tip for a buffet in these lean economic times what business is it of hers? Is it because I tipped using some of the money that she had given me? Was she entitled to form an oversight committee to watch how I used it? Do gift givers have the right, especially when the recipient didn't solicit the gift, to expect it to be used in a specific way?
The whole exchange got me to thinking about a homeless person holds a sign that states that they’ll work for food, should I be mad if they choose to use the money I bestowed to them on liquor? When a church has a food pantry, can the lady with no money and four hungry children really state that she and her kids don’t like eating generic foods? That they eat Honey Nut Cheerios not A&P’s Sweetened Oats? My first instint is to state "how dare they?!" But just because a person is in need, does that mean that they have to accept everything people want to give them? Does that mean they have to do everything their benefactors tell them to do?
What are reasonable expectations when giving and receiving gifts? Does the giver have the right to comment on how the gift is being used? Did I have the right to be offended by my mom’s disappointment?
Please care and share your two cents…
See You In Seven
Showing posts with label Parents. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Parents. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Thursday, September 24, 2009
growing out too soon?
this sunday's new york times magazine will feature a story about tweens coming out of the closet. the piece shares the stories of middle students across america who are openly homosexual and accepted by their parents and peers.
the idea of a 12 or 13 year old coming out to the world and proclaiming themselves gay makes me feel ________. i haven't quite worked out what that blank means. for sure, the heteronormative behavior of your average 12 or 13 year old is not examined, critizied or ridiculed. that is to say that when the average 12 or 13 year old has a crush on the opposite sex or becomes coupled up, eyebrows aren't raised quite as high. although on a side rant, i think they should be since kids that age should be focused on scholastic endeavors and not on romantic entanglements. however i think coming out at such a tender age is dangerous. for what do kids at that age know about any thing, most especially their sexuality? in pushing for equality and equal rights have we steamrolled the growth process of young children; the period when youth need the moral standards of their parents to guide them through the times of uncertainty and experimentation that can be the tween and teen years? the article provides some interesting insight.
what say ya'll?
Austin doesn’t have to play “the pretend game,” as he calls it, anymore. At his
middle school, he has come out to his close friends, who have been supportive. A
few of his female friends responded that they were bisexual. “Half the girls I
know are bisexual,” he said. He hadn’t planned on coming out to his mom yet, but
she found out a week before the dance. “I told my cousin, my cousin told this
other girl, she told her mother, her mother told my mom and then my mom told
me,” Austin explained. “The only person who really has a problem with it is my
older sister, who keeps saying: ‘It’s just a phase! It’s just a phase!’ ”
the idea of a 12 or 13 year old coming out to the world and proclaiming themselves gay makes me feel ________. i haven't quite worked out what that blank means. for sure, the heteronormative behavior of your average 12 or 13 year old is not examined, critizied or ridiculed. that is to say that when the average 12 or 13 year old has a crush on the opposite sex or becomes coupled up, eyebrows aren't raised quite as high. although on a side rant, i think they should be since kids that age should be focused on scholastic endeavors and not on romantic entanglements. however i think coming out at such a tender age is dangerous. for what do kids at that age know about any thing, most especially their sexuality? in pushing for equality and equal rights have we steamrolled the growth process of young children; the period when youth need the moral standards of their parents to guide them through the times of uncertainty and experimentation that can be the tween and teen years? the article provides some interesting insight.
what say ya'll?
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Reach Out and Touch Someone
On Saturday I had dinner with my dad to celebrate, like I usually do around this time of year, that I have turned another year older.
*Shameless Alert* Go, go, go shorty it’s your birthday! We going party like it’s your birthday. So what’s the number one Zodiac sign? GEMINI!
Anyways… somehow or another, dad and I got on the subject of text messaging. I like to text my parents, you know to keep them hip. But also, more truthfully, some times I don’t really feel like talking to them…think wishing for the voicemail to pick up. Tee hee. So my dad was like I just can’t get into text messaging, my hands don’t move that fast and I don’t know all the acronyms. So I was like dad, it’s the easiest and breeziest form of communication. You can connect without connecting. But at the end of my spiel my dad pretty much sighed and stated that this type of technology is pretty much lost on him.
I’m thinking that’s usually how the older generation feels about most of the gizmos that come to improve our lives. My paternal grandparents had a rotary phone...that was used until 1998. No. Bull! And it’s only because my dad bought the cordless one that the rotary was retired. Now I am not the most technologically savvy person on the planet, I mean I did just get a camera phone like 2 months ago... So I’m not of the thinking that technology is evil, like the Native Americans who believed photos captured their souls. But these new advancements in the way we are able to keep in touch with each other has allowed for certain decorum to go out the window. I mean some things should not be done through a text message.
For example:
Marriage Proposals- No one should ever send a message asking someone to spend the rest of their lives with them using emoticons and the following: Will u mrry me? Some things require undivided attention folks. And maybe an eyeball to eyeball conversation.
Birth Announcements-I don’t need to learn that a new person is in the world on my cell phone! There is no reason I should get an en masse text message of: We on da way 2 hospital 4 baby. This is not the business. Voicemail works to herald the good news that Junior or Nay-Nay are here.
And I need to also just touch briefly about Nudey Pictures. *Sigh* I know camera phones are fun, especially since you don’t have to shake them like a Polaroid picture…but when you send nudey pictures of yourself, could you please be kind and make sure you are sending it to the right recipient. I was recently a victim of a nudey picture sent in error and I was ready to get all Oedpial and gouge my eyes out. He claimed that he sent it to the wrong person. Tee hee. Okay, I’ve used that line too in my recent immature past. “Ooops! I didn’t mean to call you.” Or the classic “My phone dialed your number by accident!” *stupid flip phones messed that excuse up. But I’m saying, when you are sending pictures of yourself in compromising positions or merely sans clothing just make sure that you are caring and sharing with the right folks. I mean technology is dangerous that way people. There’s no instant double click way to get rid of your embarrassment.
Now I’m not saying we need to go back to carrier pigeons and messages in bottles…but let’s connect and text responsibly.
See You In Seven
*Shameless Alert* Go, go, go shorty it’s your birthday! We going party like it’s your birthday. So what’s the number one Zodiac sign? GEMINI!
Anyways… somehow or another, dad and I got on the subject of text messaging. I like to text my parents, you know to keep them hip. But also, more truthfully, some times I don’t really feel like talking to them…think wishing for the voicemail to pick up. Tee hee. So my dad was like I just can’t get into text messaging, my hands don’t move that fast and I don’t know all the acronyms. So I was like dad, it’s the easiest and breeziest form of communication. You can connect without connecting. But at the end of my spiel my dad pretty much sighed and stated that this type of technology is pretty much lost on him.
I’m thinking that’s usually how the older generation feels about most of the gizmos that come to improve our lives. My paternal grandparents had a rotary phone...that was used until 1998. No. Bull! And it’s only because my dad bought the cordless one that the rotary was retired. Now I am not the most technologically savvy person on the planet, I mean I did just get a camera phone like 2 months ago... So I’m not of the thinking that technology is evil, like the Native Americans who believed photos captured their souls. But these new advancements in the way we are able to keep in touch with each other has allowed for certain decorum to go out the window. I mean some things should not be done through a text message.
For example:
Marriage Proposals- No one should ever send a message asking someone to spend the rest of their lives with them using emoticons and the following: Will u mrry me? Some things require undivided attention folks. And maybe an eyeball to eyeball conversation.
Birth Announcements-I don’t need to learn that a new person is in the world on my cell phone! There is no reason I should get an en masse text message of: We on da way 2 hospital 4 baby. This is not the business. Voicemail works to herald the good news that Junior or Nay-Nay are here.
And I need to also just touch briefly about Nudey Pictures. *Sigh* I know camera phones are fun, especially since you don’t have to shake them like a Polaroid picture…but when you send nudey pictures of yourself, could you please be kind and make sure you are sending it to the right recipient. I was recently a victim of a nudey picture sent in error and I was ready to get all Oedpial and gouge my eyes out. He claimed that he sent it to the wrong person. Tee hee. Okay, I’ve used that line too in my recent immature past. “Ooops! I didn’t mean to call you.” Or the classic “My phone dialed your number by accident!” *stupid flip phones messed that excuse up. But I’m saying, when you are sending pictures of yourself in compromising positions or merely sans clothing just make sure that you are caring and sharing with the right folks. I mean technology is dangerous that way people. There’s no instant double click way to get rid of your embarrassment.
Now I’m not saying we need to go back to carrier pigeons and messages in bottles…but let’s connect and text responsibly.
See You In Seven
Friday, February 29, 2008
Going in Circles
Before we get started with the post, I have to share something with y’all. Apparently someone has taught my 82 year old grandmother about the joy and magic that is google. I don't know if she learned it while watching her daily dose of CNN, MSBNC and FOX news or if she has somehow heard this but now whenever she asks me a question about what happened to some famous person she has lost “contact” with, and I respond, "I don't know grandma." She says in her thick Southern drawl, "don't worry, you can google it for me." Lawd! Who has been teaching my grandmama new things?
Alright on to the post…
So one of my biggest fears is that I'm gonna be one of those old ladies you see in the grocery store, with her zipper three quarters of the way up her dress, her dingy beige bra (did it use to be white) exposed, looking like she tried with all her might to get it all the way zipped up and then said, "f-it, I got to make it to the store for the Senior Citizen Discount".
I mean if you're a young single woman who has lived alone, you know how hard it is to get the zipper up by yourself. You gotta bring it up a little ways with one hand, then reach your other hand over your shoulder to bring it up some more, then use the other hand to bring it up some, rinse and repeat until you get to the top. But imagine being a little old lady with no one to help you. Oh stick to buttons! And even then there's that whole misbuttoning thing that happens and we’ve all seen an old lady walking around with her dress all crooked.
But back to my fear, the fear of aging. I think a lot of people probably wonder what growing older will be like, but living with my parents and grandmother really gives me a visual aid of this whole getting older business. I mean seriously, if you came to the Rum Punch household, we got the Circle of Life thing happening: young, getting old and already old. Well, actually to have a true Circle of Life, we would probably need a child or baby to make it complete, but since Rum Punch ain't birthin no babies any time soon, we are an abridged version of the circle…
Watching my parents get older has been so many words: scary, challenging, fascinating, frightening, eye opening… Where did my father, the strongest man in the world who could lift anything go? Now, he asks me to pick up that heavy box and take it downstairs. What about my mother who was once the Queen of multi tasking? Now, she gets tired so easily and will be like, "I need a nap." We're not even gonna talk about my grandmother and her arthuritis, and how she knows it's gonna rain cause her right knee is hurting.
I really don't think anyone knows how to prepare for aging. We just know that it's coming because (God willing) it's inevitable. I mean some people exercise, eat right, blah, blah, blah so they can have a healthier life, but aging comes nonetheless. Eyes get weaker. Mid sections appear out of nowhere. Skin begins to wrinkle. Certain body parts take that trip down South. We lose agility and dexterity. Sometimes minds become feeble. We are prone to more illnesses. We get weaker, more dependent, and we can't do the things we used to. My mother says things to me like, "when I get older, I don’t want to be this way or that way…I promise I won't be a burden". And I think that is the biggest fear of them all, the wondering what will happen to you when you get older, who will take care of you, who will walk you up and down the stairs, who will take you to the store if you need it, who will help you balance your checkbook, who will make sure you take your medicine, who will hold your hand when your spouse passes after 50 years of marriage, who will take you in when you can no longer live alone. Who will, who will?
We don't have the answers. But I know that we wonder. I know that my mother thinks of how to make me and my brother's lives easier when she and my father get older, how they can prepare now for the inevitable, she wonders who will pass away first and if it's her, she doesn't think that my father will be able to cope. I know that now my grandmother talks more and more about when she goes to glory. And while no one knows the day or the hour, she thinks her time is coming before all of ours. And she seems to be getting ready for it.
So maybe it's not just a fear of aging that I have. Maybe it's having to deal with the reality of watching and then having to accept that my parents are aging. And knowing what that means for me, for my brother, for them, for us. Seeing it day in and day out, taking note of the subtle changes. And knowing that this is only the beginning. Living with the three of them is a constant reminder for me of what life is and is not. Of what it can and may not be. That it can happen so fast. That truly as corny as it sounds, it's about cherishing moments, making memories, finding joy in the seemingly small things. That it is measured in so many more things than what you do, what you make, where you live. It's about learning, loving, growing, changing, teaching, aging and eventually dying. The circle of, well you know the rest...
That's my time y'all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!
Alright on to the post…
So one of my biggest fears is that I'm gonna be one of those old ladies you see in the grocery store, with her zipper three quarters of the way up her dress, her dingy beige bra (did it use to be white) exposed, looking like she tried with all her might to get it all the way zipped up and then said, "f-it, I got to make it to the store for the Senior Citizen Discount".
I mean if you're a young single woman who has lived alone, you know how hard it is to get the zipper up by yourself. You gotta bring it up a little ways with one hand, then reach your other hand over your shoulder to bring it up some more, then use the other hand to bring it up some, rinse and repeat until you get to the top. But imagine being a little old lady with no one to help you. Oh stick to buttons! And even then there's that whole misbuttoning thing that happens and we’ve all seen an old lady walking around with her dress all crooked.
But back to my fear, the fear of aging. I think a lot of people probably wonder what growing older will be like, but living with my parents and grandmother really gives me a visual aid of this whole getting older business. I mean seriously, if you came to the Rum Punch household, we got the Circle of Life thing happening: young, getting old and already old. Well, actually to have a true Circle of Life, we would probably need a child or baby to make it complete, but since Rum Punch ain't birthin no babies any time soon, we are an abridged version of the circle…
Watching my parents get older has been so many words: scary, challenging, fascinating, frightening, eye opening… Where did my father, the strongest man in the world who could lift anything go? Now, he asks me to pick up that heavy box and take it downstairs. What about my mother who was once the Queen of multi tasking? Now, she gets tired so easily and will be like, "I need a nap." We're not even gonna talk about my grandmother and her arthuritis, and how she knows it's gonna rain cause her right knee is hurting.
I really don't think anyone knows how to prepare for aging. We just know that it's coming because (God willing) it's inevitable. I mean some people exercise, eat right, blah, blah, blah so they can have a healthier life, but aging comes nonetheless. Eyes get weaker. Mid sections appear out of nowhere. Skin begins to wrinkle. Certain body parts take that trip down South. We lose agility and dexterity. Sometimes minds become feeble. We are prone to more illnesses. We get weaker, more dependent, and we can't do the things we used to. My mother says things to me like, "when I get older, I don’t want to be this way or that way…I promise I won't be a burden". And I think that is the biggest fear of them all, the wondering what will happen to you when you get older, who will take care of you, who will walk you up and down the stairs, who will take you to the store if you need it, who will help you balance your checkbook, who will make sure you take your medicine, who will hold your hand when your spouse passes after 50 years of marriage, who will take you in when you can no longer live alone. Who will, who will?
We don't have the answers. But I know that we wonder. I know that my mother thinks of how to make me and my brother's lives easier when she and my father get older, how they can prepare now for the inevitable, she wonders who will pass away first and if it's her, she doesn't think that my father will be able to cope. I know that now my grandmother talks more and more about when she goes to glory. And while no one knows the day or the hour, she thinks her time is coming before all of ours. And she seems to be getting ready for it.
So maybe it's not just a fear of aging that I have. Maybe it's having to deal with the reality of watching and then having to accept that my parents are aging. And knowing what that means for me, for my brother, for them, for us. Seeing it day in and day out, taking note of the subtle changes. And knowing that this is only the beginning. Living with the three of them is a constant reminder for me of what life is and is not. Of what it can and may not be. That it can happen so fast. That truly as corny as it sounds, it's about cherishing moments, making memories, finding joy in the seemingly small things. That it is measured in so many more things than what you do, what you make, where you live. It's about learning, loving, growing, changing, teaching, aging and eventually dying. The circle of, well you know the rest...
That's my time y'all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Parents Just Don't Understand
Fifteen. It was a year of self discovery. And angst. An age of knowing that we were smarter than our parents. Couldn’t nobody tell us nothing! We were excited about driving, and moving out and going to college. Just waiting to be grown-legally, because in our minds, at fifteen we already were. Remember that? Makes you laugh now right?
My cousin is fifteen and she has me thinking a lot about my recent youth. It seems like she is so different from me. She’s been exposed to a lot more things than I was in her childhood, and it just seems like she’s lost something that I had at her age. I find myself doing that thing to her that I most hated; smooshing her face until she looks like a little pug dog and telling her how I remember when she was born. When she learned to walk. And talk. And would follow me around wherever I went. Then this segues into me telling her how much she’s grown. Then I realize what I’m doing and I apologize for being corny, but I just can’t help it. And I know it’s annoying to have someone go on and on about growth that is suppose to happen, because I was so annoyed at fifteen. But she doesn’t understand how amazing it is to watch someone not just grow taller, but become a person in the process.
Growing up as an only child I didn’t consult too many folks with my questions. We always lived away from my family so I just had my parents; and I knew that most of the time they couldn’t relate to anything I had to say. Now I feel like it would have been nice to have someone else to talk to about life. So I try to be available for my little cousin. She’s gets on my last damn nerve sometimes though. I won’t go into the hours of conversation I endured in which she discussed, in minute detail, breaking up and getting back together with her little boyfriend. The “drama” she went through-like they were going to get married or something! Arrrgh! (insert my eye roll here)
On Saturday she called me with another tale. She said that she had this friend, who was having sex with her boyfriend and just found out she was pregnant.
“What should she do, she hasn’t told her mom yet?”
Wow. I nearly dropped the phone. You know, because usually when someone is talking about a friend, it’s really them. And I just wasn’t ready to deal with my baby cousin (notice she’s a baby now) having sex. Let alone being pregnant!
But what could be done in this situation I didn’t know. My views on abortion have shifted through the years, but the thought of being a mom at fifteen is an unimaginable reality. And yet I’ve seen the emotional aftermath abortions can wreak. Adoption? To carry a baby to term and give it up. To have that same child hunt you down one day, full of questions and maybe anger. It all seems too much for a young person to have to think about. Too real. Too grown. Especially when the girl’s biggest fear is telling her mom. Not feeding or clothing the baby. Not raising a child to be a productive member of society. Just telling her mom. Arrgh! Kids!
Little cousin assured me that it wasn’t her.
I asked her repeatedly “Are you sure it isn’t you? I mean it’s okay if it is.” It wasn’t though.
“It’s not me! Geez!” Then my aunt started calling her to do something in the background. Little cousin didn’t want to talk about this in front of her mom. Which I could totally understand. As she rushed to get off the phone she said
“So she has to tell her mom right? Even though she’s going to get mad?”
“Of course little cousin, when you do grown up things you have to face the consequences.”
I felt so much older than the 11 years that separate us as I said this. But I was glad she called me, and felt comfortable enough to ask me. The thought of three fifteen year-olds trying to figure out what to do about a baby was scary. At fifteen what do they know? Not a damn thing! But they'll realize that later on, in their twenties.
See You in Seven
My cousin is fifteen and she has me thinking a lot about my recent youth. It seems like she is so different from me. She’s been exposed to a lot more things than I was in her childhood, and it just seems like she’s lost something that I had at her age. I find myself doing that thing to her that I most hated; smooshing her face until she looks like a little pug dog and telling her how I remember when she was born. When she learned to walk. And talk. And would follow me around wherever I went. Then this segues into me telling her how much she’s grown. Then I realize what I’m doing and I apologize for being corny, but I just can’t help it. And I know it’s annoying to have someone go on and on about growth that is suppose to happen, because I was so annoyed at fifteen. But she doesn’t understand how amazing it is to watch someone not just grow taller, but become a person in the process.
Growing up as an only child I didn’t consult too many folks with my questions. We always lived away from my family so I just had my parents; and I knew that most of the time they couldn’t relate to anything I had to say. Now I feel like it would have been nice to have someone else to talk to about life. So I try to be available for my little cousin. She’s gets on my last damn nerve sometimes though. I won’t go into the hours of conversation I endured in which she discussed, in minute detail, breaking up and getting back together with her little boyfriend. The “drama” she went through-like they were going to get married or something! Arrrgh! (insert my eye roll here)
On Saturday she called me with another tale. She said that she had this friend, who was having sex with her boyfriend and just found out she was pregnant.
“What should she do, she hasn’t told her mom yet?”
Wow. I nearly dropped the phone. You know, because usually when someone is talking about a friend, it’s really them. And I just wasn’t ready to deal with my baby cousin (notice she’s a baby now) having sex. Let alone being pregnant!
But what could be done in this situation I didn’t know. My views on abortion have shifted through the years, but the thought of being a mom at fifteen is an unimaginable reality. And yet I’ve seen the emotional aftermath abortions can wreak. Adoption? To carry a baby to term and give it up. To have that same child hunt you down one day, full of questions and maybe anger. It all seems too much for a young person to have to think about. Too real. Too grown. Especially when the girl’s biggest fear is telling her mom. Not feeding or clothing the baby. Not raising a child to be a productive member of society. Just telling her mom. Arrgh! Kids!
Little cousin assured me that it wasn’t her.
I asked her repeatedly “Are you sure it isn’t you? I mean it’s okay if it is.” It wasn’t though.
“It’s not me! Geez!” Then my aunt started calling her to do something in the background. Little cousin didn’t want to talk about this in front of her mom. Which I could totally understand. As she rushed to get off the phone she said
“So she has to tell her mom right? Even though she’s going to get mad?”
“Of course little cousin, when you do grown up things you have to face the consequences.”
I felt so much older than the 11 years that separate us as I said this. But I was glad she called me, and felt comfortable enough to ask me. The thought of three fifteen year-olds trying to figure out what to do about a baby was scary. At fifteen what do they know? Not a damn thing! But they'll realize that later on, in their twenties.
See You in Seven
Monday, January 28, 2008
Bull, Hare, Stallion... Or A Blind Man
The past couple of days have been quite enjoyable as I celebrated my birthday over the weekend. Saturday, I had dinner with Bellini & Rum Punch. Then we chilled at a local bar and some more friends joined us for drinks and a lil' two step while watching a live band perform. Yesterday, I spent the anniversary of my birth with the woman who made it possible. We attended a fundraiser for an organization that I volunteer a lot of my time with and saw a brother named Baratunde Thurston perform. You could say he's a comedian (he is funny as hell); I'd say he's more of a social humorist. The native Washingtonian is not only witty, but also insightful and revolutionary. Check him out when you get a chance. Moms enjoyed him as well. After Baratunde's performance, we stopped by a bar down the street for a lil' toast and chit chat.
My parents will tell you that I wasn't born 'til a lil' after 6PM, therefore they don't officially wish me happy birthday until around that time. During the earlier hours of the day, they'll tell a version of the same story about my mother's water breaking on the day she was scheduled for a C-section (I came pushing into this world 12 days late) and her 12 hours of labor and my father getting cursed out for looking for parking instead of dropping my mom off at the emergency room door ... lol. You get the picture. So by the time mom and I sat down and were served our drinks, it was 6:15. How perfect was that?
Those who know Mama Stormy know she is an unforgettable woman. She is warm and comical. She will talk to anybody, which can be annoying at times. She gives it to you straight, with no chaser. And I swear this woman knows a little bit about everything! Any subject... she got a lil known history fact or random tidbit of information tucked into her brain. So of course, it was only a matter of minutes before she made friends with the folks sitting at the bar. Within half an hour, the bartender had become a part of her captivated audience as well.
Once mom spilled the beans about it being my birthday, it was a wrap. The bartender made me a drink- on the house. A man sitting right next to mom, who had been giving me the eye for a minute, made his way over to me. He introduced himself, told me how much he enjoyed mom's words of wisdom, and ordered us another round of drinks. Three hours later (yes really) we had discussed the presidential primaries, gentrification, the value of the Euro, gas prices, social uprising in Kenya, colonization in Africa... And sex.
As I returned from a trip to the bathroom, I heard my mom say "If you don't do anything else, be sure to make love to a blind person before you die. Or rather, before your pipes dry up, if you know what I mean." WTF??? Oh it's time to go home. Apparently, she somehow had landed on the topic of how our hangups about visual appearances can get in the way of us enjoying sex. Furthermore, a blind person's heightened sense of touch, taste, smell, and hearing increase their ability to awaken these senses within their sex partner. Her words y'all, not mine. And I did not even ask how she knew this. I simply assisted her in putting on her coat and scarf.
The guy from the bar gave me his number and expressed his interest in seeing me again. I enjoyed his company and I find him attractive, so I'm thinking about giving him a call. I do have one reservation. Our sexual compatibility.
Some would say I'm jumping the gun with such a thought. That's just how my mind works. It's not so much that I have only sex on the brain... I just like to evaluate compatibility on all levels. And sexual compatibility is very important to me. So I got up the nerve to mention it to my mom on the way home. I have a theory about the shape of a man's hands in relation to the shape of his sexual organ. The shape of his fingers, for example long and bony vs. short and stubby, give a good indication of the shape of his love below. Just my theory.
I didn't share the theory with mom, but I shared another related concern. This brother's ethnicity. I have heard that men within this particular ethnic group are not very well endowed. Though I have never witnessed it for myself. My mom started laughing and told me she has heard the same. She mentioned dating a man of the same ethnicity back in the day, whom she described as "depressingly small." She also said you can never know until you see it. There are exceptions to every rule.
Very true. In the book 'The Complete Kama Sutra', there is a breakdown of physical sexual compatibility and erotic science. It categorizes men's genitals in three types-bull, hare, and stallion; and women in three types- doe, mare, and cow-elephant. Obviously a matchup of an equal type is preferred to one that is unbalanced. Because I want to experience pleasure when making love.
My mom said to me "When you look for a potential mate/spouse, you are looking for pleasure, in addition to someone who can support you financially and with whom you can start a family with, right?" Absolutely. "In many cultures, still today, pleasure ain't part of the equation. It's about getting married, continuing a lineage, preserving a family name or legacy. There are no sexual expectations." Mmm hmm... I'm listening. "Therefore, in western cultures such as ours, women have a harder time finding suitable mates and become much more frustrated with not being able to find suitable mates, because they have higher expectations. They want it all. Not saying it's right or wrong, but the search and need for pleasure leaves most of us rarely or never satisfied."
Where the blind brother's at? I got small wrists and forearms... LOL!
Tumultuously Yours,
Dark & Stormy
My parents will tell you that I wasn't born 'til a lil' after 6PM, therefore they don't officially wish me happy birthday until around that time. During the earlier hours of the day, they'll tell a version of the same story about my mother's water breaking on the day she was scheduled for a C-section (I came pushing into this world 12 days late) and her 12 hours of labor and my father getting cursed out for looking for parking instead of dropping my mom off at the emergency room door ... lol. You get the picture. So by the time mom and I sat down and were served our drinks, it was 6:15. How perfect was that?
Those who know Mama Stormy know she is an unforgettable woman. She is warm and comical. She will talk to anybody, which can be annoying at times. She gives it to you straight, with no chaser. And I swear this woman knows a little bit about everything! Any subject... she got a lil known history fact or random tidbit of information tucked into her brain. So of course, it was only a matter of minutes before she made friends with the folks sitting at the bar. Within half an hour, the bartender had become a part of her captivated audience as well.
Once mom spilled the beans about it being my birthday, it was a wrap. The bartender made me a drink- on the house. A man sitting right next to mom, who had been giving me the eye for a minute, made his way over to me. He introduced himself, told me how much he enjoyed mom's words of wisdom, and ordered us another round of drinks. Three hours later (yes really) we had discussed the presidential primaries, gentrification, the value of the Euro, gas prices, social uprising in Kenya, colonization in Africa... And sex.
As I returned from a trip to the bathroom, I heard my mom say "If you don't do anything else, be sure to make love to a blind person before you die. Or rather, before your pipes dry up, if you know what I mean." WTF??? Oh it's time to go home. Apparently, she somehow had landed on the topic of how our hangups about visual appearances can get in the way of us enjoying sex. Furthermore, a blind person's heightened sense of touch, taste, smell, and hearing increase their ability to awaken these senses within their sex partner. Her words y'all, not mine. And I did not even ask how she knew this. I simply assisted her in putting on her coat and scarf.
The guy from the bar gave me his number and expressed his interest in seeing me again. I enjoyed his company and I find him attractive, so I'm thinking about giving him a call. I do have one reservation. Our sexual compatibility.
Some would say I'm jumping the gun with such a thought. That's just how my mind works. It's not so much that I have only sex on the brain... I just like to evaluate compatibility on all levels. And sexual compatibility is very important to me. So I got up the nerve to mention it to my mom on the way home. I have a theory about the shape of a man's hands in relation to the shape of his sexual organ. The shape of his fingers, for example long and bony vs. short and stubby, give a good indication of the shape of his love below. Just my theory.
I didn't share the theory with mom, but I shared another related concern. This brother's ethnicity. I have heard that men within this particular ethnic group are not very well endowed. Though I have never witnessed it for myself. My mom started laughing and told me she has heard the same. She mentioned dating a man of the same ethnicity back in the day, whom she described as "depressingly small." She also said you can never know until you see it. There are exceptions to every rule.
Very true. In the book 'The Complete Kama Sutra', there is a breakdown of physical sexual compatibility and erotic science. It categorizes men's genitals in three types-bull, hare, and stallion; and women in three types- doe, mare, and cow-elephant. Obviously a matchup of an equal type is preferred to one that is unbalanced. Because I want to experience pleasure when making love.
My mom said to me "When you look for a potential mate/spouse, you are looking for pleasure, in addition to someone who can support you financially and with whom you can start a family with, right?" Absolutely. "In many cultures, still today, pleasure ain't part of the equation. It's about getting married, continuing a lineage, preserving a family name or legacy. There are no sexual expectations." Mmm hmm... I'm listening. "Therefore, in western cultures such as ours, women have a harder time finding suitable mates and become much more frustrated with not being able to find suitable mates, because they have higher expectations. They want it all. Not saying it's right or wrong, but the search and need for pleasure leaves most of us rarely or never satisfied."
Where the blind brother's at? I got small wrists and forearms... LOL!
Tumultuously Yours,
Dark & Stormy
Friday, January 25, 2008
Much More Than They Can See...
Remember when Paula Abdul half way sang, “I take-2 steps forward, I take-2 steps back. We come together cause opposites attract” And you know…the rest… Although in retrospect the fact that she was singing to a cartoon tiger may help to explain her “crazy” outbursts on American Idol. But as usual, I digress.
My parents are approaching 35 years of marriage and to an onlooker they are opposites. My mother grew up in the Deep South, under the heel of Jim Crow, immersed in a family that was actively involved in the Civil Rights Movement. My father is a second generation American who grew up in one of the few Black families in his small Northeastern town. His family does not know the pain that was slavery in America nor relates to the “Black American experience”. And while I’m sure they both experienced that good ol’ 1950s/60s, racism, their approaches to handling these injustices were different. My mother was someone who always challenged the system, the status quo. My father was a studious and diligent student, a hard worker who challenged the system in his own way by being at the top of his medical class, thus proving that he was just as smart, just as good as “them.” Opposites.
They met in the middle, in Chicago. My mother, a true embodiment of the 60s’ revolutionary spirit had traded her marching shoes for a black beret and took my father to a Black Panther Party Meeting to show him her world. My father, who probably quickly noticed and criticized the organization’s structural flaws, was not moved by their passion. While he understood what they were fighting for, he didn’t like their fighting methods. He never went to another meeting. But he never belittled my mother for what she believed in. She continued the struggle and he continued to study. Opposites.
As modern day women making our way in the dating world, sometimes we get caught up in what kind of man we want. We have this image in our heads of what kind of man we are supposed to be with and we just cannot deviate from that… A lot of us want someone who is very similar to us. If you’re a homebody, you want a homebody. If you are a social butterfly, you want someone who likes to go out and have a good time. If you're all about climbing the corporate ladder, you want someone of the same mindset. If you are a modern day revolutionary, you want someone to get arrested with. But then who will bail you out?
Being with someone who is seemingly your complete opposite seems unfathomable. How will the two of you get along? What will you agree on? How will you make things work? Now, to be fair I’m not talking about dating someone who you have nothing in common with... like Chris Rock said, he can’t be a crackhead and you go to church every Sunday. But I am talking about expanding our horizons. I’m talking about erasing that image we have of ‘the guy for me’ and thinking broader…what if you met someone so different from you that they took you to new places (Get y’alls mind out the gutter, I am literally talking about traveling to new places that you may have never gone to on your own), taught you new things, made you love jazz, had you try different foods, showed you the value of working in the community, introduced you to new people when you would normally be in the house, made you see the world in a whole new light? How would that enhance you as a person?
What I l have learned from observing my parents (and living at home in your adult years can give you that extra perspective- you know I have to find the silver lining) is that while they may seem so different, underneath everything, they have their commonalities. They share the same value systems and beliefs and have been able to build a strong foundation from that, a necessity to overcoming being “opposites”. They are friends first who understand the importance of working together as a couple, they have always been and still are enthralled with each other’s minds and they are continually supportive of each other.
My mother has often said that they are “one brain…” And they really are. They will see the same situation, have the same sentiments about the wrongness of said situation but they will respond differently. My mother will want to rage against the machine whilst my father will want to come from a more logical, tactical approach and perhaps work within the system to fix things. But at the end of the day they both agree that something must be done. In watching them I have learned the importance of being in sync with someone where it counts: values, ideals, parenting styles, money management, conflict resolution and love.
Even now, my mother still possesses that revolutionary spirit, she was right there wearing all black to support the Jena 6, calling me at work talking about “Power to the People…” If my father wore black that day, it was probably by happenstance. Opposites. My mother will go to a gathering/function close to the start time, will stay an hour (out of politeness) and be ready to go. My father will always be running late (so you know my momma has learned the necessity of factoring that into the equation when they are going somewhere-and now in their old age she will just go without him and he will meet her there), he will get to that function late and he will be ready to shut a party down. Opposites. They can go to a party together and my mother may speak to a few people while my father works the room. But they always know when to find each other’s eyes and give that ‘I’m ready to go’ signal that every married couple has. To this day, I still don’t know the signal. I don’t even see them giving it. That’s how smooth they are with it. But I know that when it’s given, my parents politely excuse themselves from their respective conversations, meet up and leave together. Opposites. But always on the same page.
That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!
My parents are approaching 35 years of marriage and to an onlooker they are opposites. My mother grew up in the Deep South, under the heel of Jim Crow, immersed in a family that was actively involved in the Civil Rights Movement. My father is a second generation American who grew up in one of the few Black families in his small Northeastern town. His family does not know the pain that was slavery in America nor relates to the “Black American experience”. And while I’m sure they both experienced that good ol’ 1950s/60s, racism, their approaches to handling these injustices were different. My mother was someone who always challenged the system, the status quo. My father was a studious and diligent student, a hard worker who challenged the system in his own way by being at the top of his medical class, thus proving that he was just as smart, just as good as “them.” Opposites.
They met in the middle, in Chicago. My mother, a true embodiment of the 60s’ revolutionary spirit had traded her marching shoes for a black beret and took my father to a Black Panther Party Meeting to show him her world. My father, who probably quickly noticed and criticized the organization’s structural flaws, was not moved by their passion. While he understood what they were fighting for, he didn’t like their fighting methods. He never went to another meeting. But he never belittled my mother for what she believed in. She continued the struggle and he continued to study. Opposites.
As modern day women making our way in the dating world, sometimes we get caught up in what kind of man we want. We have this image in our heads of what kind of man we are supposed to be with and we just cannot deviate from that… A lot of us want someone who is very similar to us. If you’re a homebody, you want a homebody. If you are a social butterfly, you want someone who likes to go out and have a good time. If you're all about climbing the corporate ladder, you want someone of the same mindset. If you are a modern day revolutionary, you want someone to get arrested with. But then who will bail you out?
Being with someone who is seemingly your complete opposite seems unfathomable. How will the two of you get along? What will you agree on? How will you make things work? Now, to be fair I’m not talking about dating someone who you have nothing in common with... like Chris Rock said, he can’t be a crackhead and you go to church every Sunday. But I am talking about expanding our horizons. I’m talking about erasing that image we have of ‘the guy for me’ and thinking broader…what if you met someone so different from you that they took you to new places (Get y’alls mind out the gutter, I am literally talking about traveling to new places that you may have never gone to on your own), taught you new things, made you love jazz, had you try different foods, showed you the value of working in the community, introduced you to new people when you would normally be in the house, made you see the world in a whole new light? How would that enhance you as a person?
What I l have learned from observing my parents (and living at home in your adult years can give you that extra perspective- you know I have to find the silver lining) is that while they may seem so different, underneath everything, they have their commonalities. They share the same value systems and beliefs and have been able to build a strong foundation from that, a necessity to overcoming being “opposites”. They are friends first who understand the importance of working together as a couple, they have always been and still are enthralled with each other’s minds and they are continually supportive of each other.
My mother has often said that they are “one brain…” And they really are. They will see the same situation, have the same sentiments about the wrongness of said situation but they will respond differently. My mother will want to rage against the machine whilst my father will want to come from a more logical, tactical approach and perhaps work within the system to fix things. But at the end of the day they both agree that something must be done. In watching them I have learned the importance of being in sync with someone where it counts: values, ideals, parenting styles, money management, conflict resolution and love.
Even now, my mother still possesses that revolutionary spirit, she was right there wearing all black to support the Jena 6, calling me at work talking about “Power to the People…” If my father wore black that day, it was probably by happenstance. Opposites. My mother will go to a gathering/function close to the start time, will stay an hour (out of politeness) and be ready to go. My father will always be running late (so you know my momma has learned the necessity of factoring that into the equation when they are going somewhere-and now in their old age she will just go without him and he will meet her there), he will get to that function late and he will be ready to shut a party down. Opposites. They can go to a party together and my mother may speak to a few people while my father works the room. But they always know when to find each other’s eyes and give that ‘I’m ready to go’ signal that every married couple has. To this day, I still don’t know the signal. I don’t even see them giving it. That’s how smooth they are with it. But I know that when it’s given, my parents politely excuse themselves from their respective conversations, meet up and leave together. Opposites. But always on the same page.
That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!
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