Picky, Picky

In another week, I will write the mother of all blog posts (or a series of blog mamas) about a million things that have been living in my mind for the last nine months. For the moment, though, I’m sitting with words stewing in my head that aren’t quite allowed/ready to leave.

I got a new job. I am THRILLED. I put in my notice and next Wednesday is my last day in corporate America - the next morning, I shall wake up (earlier than I do now) and skip with joy to a charter high school that’s opening in Queens and begin my new job. Which I shall write more about later.

Last week, I proclaimed I was “having the Best Week Ever. VH1 just doesn’t know about me,” because, well, I was. And the new job offer came in the midst of it. I have literally felt like I moved into a new world since I put in my two weeks. I am happier in the office (as I tell people exactly what I think as they inspire it). And I am finally getting other parts of my life in order.

Part of getting my life in order is cooking actual meals for myself. The new job is a pay cut and I can still make ends meet on it, but I can’t be running out for lunch ’cause I forgot or was too tired to cook the night before. A while back I decided I wanted to stop cooking meat in my apartment. Any time I outright decide to stop eating meat, I go for about a week and suddenly find myself at a table covered in bacon, steak and fried chicken, so I’m not going there right now. I do know I feel better when I don’t eat meat frequently, and buying meat for one person is expensive and wasteful. I usually end up with half a pack of chicken growing extra intricate freezer burn crystals in the back of my freezer, or forgetting that the family pack of steak I bought (’cause, you know, it was a better deal… if I were feeding three kids and a starving husband) and cooked has been left partially consumed in the grimest of tupperware, hidden somewhere behind a carton of eggs and a bottle of wine in my fridge. So, no more meat buying and cooking.

Tonight, I decided it was time to conquer tofu. The stuff is the biggest water sucker upper that ever did rear its evil head in my kitchen. But I eventually drained it and marinated it in olive oil, chili powder and garlic and sauteed the hell out of it on my stove. And it is yum and has better remain yummy ’cause it’s lunch for the week. With rice and broccoli.

Now, this is all exciting and new at the moment, but I HAVE to find protein elsewhere and start eating more veggies. Therein lies the problem - I am the pickiest veggie eater known to man. So what I would love, adore and appreciate is if any of you had any veggie recipes or other suggestions for tofu (or tempeh or seitan) that you could share to aide me in the de-meating of my apartment. And I, in turn, promise to love and adore you forever EVEN more than I already do.

Behold: A Donation Page…

For Regeneración Childcare NYC, a group I volunteer with. There is more succint information than I can write both on Regeneración’s website and in the quotes and links in the “Donate” page, but to give you a brief overview of why I’m asking for donations:

Regeneración Childcare NYC is a group of volunteers who view childcare as a form of movement building. We provide childcare for groups supporting and run by low-income Women of Color. The actual work we do ranges from individual babysitting to childcare sessions at group meetings to classes and tracks at conferences. I joined the group this past May, and I have loved every minute of the short time I’ve worked with them - the time I spent on childcare gigs and in contact with people from Regeneración absolutely helped me in coordinating the AMC Kids’ Track and in evaluating how things went and what I think could be added and changed for next year.

RIGHT NOW - Regeneración is putting together the Youth Track for CR-10 and many members will be flying out to Oakland for the conference at the end of September. This will be expensive - more information about funds needed can be found here.

Please, please, please feel free to let me know if you’ve got any questions about this, share anything you can, and pass this information along to others!!

(The actual donation button is currently showing up as either a white box with some dots in it or a giant blue question mark. But I promise if you click on it, it will take you to a donation page in my PayPal… and if you know how to make that evil question mark turn into the PayPal Donation Link I thought it would be, please help!)

Thank God I Moved Out of Philly

Because if I were there right now, this would have caused me to re-enter to the world of overpriced sneaker purchases, camp on a sidewalk with my cat super close to where I would have been working, get fired for being a dirty-sneaker-fiending-sidewalk-camper instead of going to work to sell soap, and, finally, render myself broke.

Instead, I am in Brooklyn. Employed. And still contemplating what I’d like a Harry Potter-themed custom pair of AF1s to look like…

Let the Sydelbrations Begin!

Because…

IT’S MY WIFEY’S BIRTHDAY!

And that means the beginning of world wide Wifey week, the kick of for a week of Sydelbrations (that word came to me today - it is now a functioning part of my vocabulary), because one day is not enough to give thanks for the day my fabulous, brilliant, hilarious, evil and loving bestest friend came into the world.

So I encourage you all to start joining in the birthday celebrations, and to help, here is a hoard of orange kitties singing “Happy Birthday” - I believe this is only fitting, as Sydette taught my orange kitty to strut when Jill Scott plays:

“Race Isn’t An Issue At All”

Read this.

(I may be SUPER late on this one.)

Baron Pikes of Winnfield, Louisiana was tasered nine times by a police officer, though he was handcuffed. After the seventh shock, he did not respond to the tasers. Probably because he had already passed.

This happened in January and the process of getting a POTENTIAL trial for the offending officer has been a long one. One that is on-going.

When I first began reading this article today, I immediately thought “And THIS is why cops in New York getting tasers doesn’t make me feel like they’re going to stop killing people.”

And then I read the rest of the article and learned that Baron Pikes was Mychal Bell’s cousin. And Winnfield is 45 miles away from Jena.

In the CNN article, Lt. Chuck Curry of Winnfield states that “race isn’t an issue at all” in Baron’s case.

But when a police officier kills someone who is not white, race is always an issue. Police officers (of all races) get trained to defend against those who are perceived threats. And part of that training is the description of a criminal - which often targets young Black and Latino men. And the fact that Pikes was related to one of the Jena 6 leaves me entirely convinced that this was not a random coincidence.

“Race isn’t an issue at all.”

I will believe “race isn’t an issue at all” when someone proves to me that there have been at least as many white men killed by the police as non-white men.

Now, I yearn for justice and finding another way.

Sympathy for the Devil?

Guest post by Hope, my dear friend who, aside from calling me with stories that make me go “WRITE THAT DOWN! Guest blog!,” is doing a wonderful job of making me scheme ways to cross the ocean and visit her every time she describes a new adventure in cooking on Hopie’s Kitchen.

My girlfriend has a talent for running into people she knows: long lost friends, etc., but more specifically, she has a talent for running to celebrities. I mean, sure, it helps that we live a major city, but everywhere we go she calls out, “oh look! That’s so-and-so!” Maybe she’s making it up, after all, it’s often French celebrities that I’ve never heard of, although our former apartment was across the street from Fabrice Luchini’s, a French stage and film actor who I DO know (and whose bare ass I am now acquainted with), and a couple months ago we ran into Alan Rickman in the métro. Most of the time, people are too busy with their i-pods and cell phones and even portable movie-viewers to see what’s going on around them, but D. is always people-watching.

Sometimes, I Strive to be Peaceful

This is NOT one of them.

I have been told it is wrong to wish violence on people

I hate snark. And at times like this I want to scream that I hate white people, except that, well, I’m one. And I love my family and many of my friends and myself so these white folks are my damn people and that doesn’t fly.

BUT FOR REAL

FOR REAL, FOR REAL

Hateful asshole who bought that damn shirt (for $69? Apparently snarky racism is worth dropping big bucks on), you’re trying to sue the producer of that shirt (ooo, I will get to him in a minute)? That is SOME bull shit. He didn’t tell you to be hateful and wear it NOR did he send those kids after you. Nope, sorry. You’re a big girl. You made a decision. You found out how your decision made others feel.

Dude who made the shirt? Disgusting. Hateful. Vile. You like Obama because he is black. Obama reminds you of Hitler? You dislike Obama because “he is a Muslim?!” “WHO KILLED OBAMA?” You like Obama because he opens the door for other minorities, yet in a country where MANY people do believe Obama should be killed for opening that door YOU PROFIT OFF THAT SENTIMENT?

I need to get away from my computer so I don’t throw it right now.

(And while I don’t encourage violence among youth - I’m sorry, I’m just glad that article didn’t include anything about the group of girls getting arrested.)

If This Is Our Future…

Then we will be alright.

It has taken me a long time to put words together recounting my experiences at AMC. I’ve done it in emails and described the conference in phone conversations but I haven’t been able, or ready to sit down at my keyboard and write a post. I may not be now, either, but this is my start. I may be having trouble writing because there’s too much or too little for me to say. I may be having trouble writing because, for me, a re-cap feels like something must have ended, but I feel like I am carrying pieces of AMC through each of my days. I may be having trouble writing because my heart is still so full.

Why An Influx of Police Doesn’t Make Me Feel Safe, Part 2

I have always been taught that the police are there to protect me.

Why An Influx of Police Doesn’t Make Me Feel Safe, Part 1

More on what has been happening with RodStarz and G1 of Rebel Diaz can be found here.

And information on the ON GOING case with the “Bushwick 32″ can be found here - if you’re looking for background on the case, which began in May 2007, here is a piece that ran in the New York Times in February.

When they increased police patrolling my neighborhood, I know that was meant to make me, and others like me feel safer. I know people who live in my neighborhood that do feel better right now. But unless something happens that actually makes EVERYONE in my neighborhood safe, most importantly lifelong residents (I’ve been here eight months. I do not count on this one), as far as I’m concerned, what is being doing could not be further from improvement.