tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34843092024-02-28T00:47:25.000-08:00Just a Touch of Love - A Little Bitwhat I wroteStarmamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14394368267018889829noreply@blogger.comBlogger91125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3484309.post-51974001373437151912007-08-25T13:13:00.000-07:002007-08-25T13:15:31.488-07:00Mm hm. Just testing this shit out. Getting my feet wet again. Been away fer years & years.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.myspace.com/starmama_1">Find me on MySpace and be my friend!</a>Starmamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14394368267018889829noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3484309.post-943131262003-05-13T23:10:00.000-07:002003-05-13T23:10:55.803-07:00and then again...Starmamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14394368267018889829noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3484309.post-943122542003-05-13T22:47:00.000-07:002003-05-13T23:08:31.000-07:00It's so frightening, losing everything. Giving it all up, giving it away. Throwing it out. The special things are there: snapshots, memories, stories, smiles. All the tears are going, though. They've got to go. No more tears, no more fears, no more shit in arrears.
<br />
<br />I don't have clue one where we're going, what we'll do; I just know it'll be better than this. It'll be big, it'll be grand. Comfortable and secure and happy and clean and inspiring.
<br />
<br />Whatever I do, I'll create. Where ever we go, we'll be safe. Mama will be happy, baby will be happy. Dog will be happy. Happy family.Starmamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14394368267018889829noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3484309.post-941715082003-05-11T17:03:00.000-07:002003-05-11T17:03:49.616-07:00Yolanda went to a continuation school that let out at noon. She picked Andre up from school every day at two, took him home, and did her homework before leaving for work. She usually worked from four to eight, but sometimes stayed until ten or eleven. Their mom was always up and dressed by the time Kwan got home. Although she spent almost every evening drinking and partying, she made dinner every night and went over her kids' homework with them. She was a very pretty woman, dark as night with long hair that she often wore in two braids down her back. She was tall with big hips and legs and kept her nails long and polished. She had perfect teeth and deep-set eyes that were a mellow brown, lighter than her skin and giving her an exotic look.
<br />
<br />Lorraine had had Yolanda when she was sixteen, and Kwan when she was eighteen. Their father had left and moved to Michigan when Kwan was five and Yolanda seven, and Lorraine had started dating a Mexican man. She had Andre a year into their relationship, and his father had left her for another woman when Andre was just six months old. Yolanda and Kwan's dad sent a small check a few times a year, but Andre's dad gave Lorraine money on a monthly basis. He took Andre to ball games and to Great America, but he completely ignored Lorraine's other kids. Yolanda remembered when they had been dating. He was nice to her and Kwan; he'd bring them ice cream and once he took the whole family out to Pier 39 in San Francisco. But as soon as he broke up with their mom, he acted as if Andre was the only kid in the house.
<br />
<br />Yolanda wrote letters to her father on his birthday and at Christmas. He sent her cards and gifts but whenever she asked for a ticket to come visit him, he made excuses about not having enough money, or enough time to spend with her. He was married to a woman who had two kids of her own, and they had two boys together. Yolanda had pictures of her little brothers, but she'd never seen them. She had a feeling that her stepmother didn't want Yolanda's dad to have anything to do with his other kids. Kwan acted like he didn't care; whenever Yolanda brought up their father he would change the subject or ignore her.
<br />
<br />Andre was in the living room, playing with his Power Ranger action figures on the floor in front of the sofa. Yolanda and Lorraine were in the kitchen. Yolanda was doing her world history homework and Lorraine was cleaning the stove and counters. The radio on the windowsill was tuned to KBLX and Lorraine was singing along with Teddy Pendergrass as she worked. She had a nice voice, thin but clear. Yolanda liked to hear her mother sing. Sometimes when she came home from the bar she would come in the house singing and Yolanda would lay in bed, listening to her as she took off her makeup and clothes. Sometimes Lorraine would come home crying softly. Yolanda would find her in the morning, sleeping on top of her bed, her clothes and makeup still on. Yolanda would help her mother into her nightgown and under the covers. She knew her mom had had too much brandy when she found her like that. She wished she wouldn't drink so much, or party so much. She wished her mom had a job like Auntie Carol, or that she would slow down and meet a man who didn't hang out at Hightower's.
<br />
<br />Lorraine rinsed out the sponge and placed it on the back of the sink. She opened a cabinet and took out some spice bottles, and pulled some hamburger meat and vegetables out of the refrigerator. "Landa, baby, cut these onions and peppers up when you done with your homework, 'kay?"
<br />"Okay Mom" Yolanda replied. Her mom opened the kitchen door and pulled a Newport out of the pack on top of the refrigerator. She lit the cigarette and stood in the doorway, smoking and singing along with the radio. Yolanda answered the last question in the chapter about Ghandi, closed her textbook and got up from the table. She took down the cutting board hanging next to the stove and got a knife from a drawer. She turned on the cold water and held the onions under the stream as she peeled the skin off. She cut the onions into quarters under the water, separating each layer and rinsing it off. She put the pieces on the the cutting board and began to dice them. Lorraine had taught her this technique, and she hardly ever cried when cutting onions. When she'd finished she scraped the chopped onions into a bowl and chopped up the bell peppers. She put those into the bowl and asked her mom, "you want me to season the meat too?" Lorraine stubbed her cigarette out on the railing and flipped the butt into the dumpster in the courtyard below. She closed the kitchen door, went to the sink and began washing her hands. "That's okay baby," she told Yolanda, "I got it. Go ahead and get ready for work."
<br />
<br />Yolanda took her history book and binder and her backpack into her room. She removed her books from the backpack and placed them all on her dresser. She took her uniform - a Taco Bell tee shirt, baseball cap and navy Dickies - from her closet and put them into the backpack. She checked her makeup, combed her hair in the back, and left her room. Andre ran up to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and giving her a big hug. "Bye Landa, have fun at work!" Yolanda laughed. "yeah, Dre, I'll have lots of fun." She went into the kitchen where Lorraine was kneading spices and the chopped vegetables into the hamburger meat. She leaned her head towards her daughter and Yolanda kissed her on the cheek. "Have a good night baby, don't let them work you too hard." Yolanda said "Okay Mom," and left.
<br />
<br />Walking down the front stairs, Yolanda saw her Auntie Carol coming up the walk. She smiled when she saw Yolanda. "You going to work?" She asked her. "Yeah." They hugged each other. Auntie Carol was shorter than her sister, and lighter, but she had the same light brown eyes and long, almost straight hair. She was slimmer in the hips than Lorraine but had a more generous bust. "Have a good night Landa," her auntie called after her as she walked towards the corner. "Bye," Yolanda waved. Carol started up the stairs, on her way to gossip with her sister for a while.
<br />Starmamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14394368267018889829noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3484309.post-896156882003-02-23T13:49:00.000-08:002003-03-08T22:46:37.000-08:00I was in the Oakland Childrens Chorus like a hundred years ago. Okay, well, 25 years ago. Seems like a hundred.
<br />
<br />We sang some of everything. Performed around the state, went to camp each year up on the Feather River.
<br />
<br />For a while our music director was Larry Batiste, a jazz musician who played with Bill Summers and other local artists. He penned a tune called "Oakland, You Are My Song". A very pretty little song, and it would be really cool if I quoted it right now but I can only remember part of the chorus and a piece of a verse. "Oakland, you are my song/and you-ou are where I belong".
<br />
<br />We sang it at the dedication ceremony for City Center Plaza. You know, down by the 12th St BART station, where all the shops & stuff are.
<br />
<br />I was down that way not long ago, looking in the windows. There's a lot of nice merchandise to buy there, if you've got any money. I don't. I had enough that day for a coffee, though. Got me a sugar-free vanilla latte and sat down on a bench. I watched people. The folx going back & forth from the office on breaks & overly long errands. Students looking calm and unhurried wandered by with coffee and heavy bookbags. A short man in a suit stopped to check himself in a store window. He ran his hand over his barbered head and rubbed his neat beard. He smiled at himself before he hurried on his way.
<br />
<br />I heard a familiar voice and looked up to see my play-sister walking by with a coworker. "Tammy!" I yelled out. She turned. "What's up girl?" We hugged and gossipped and I spoke to her coworker, who I'd gone to Oakland High with. We chopped it up for ten minutes or so, until they had to get back to their office. A short time after that my girl Lori walked up. She works with Tammy, and Tammy'd told her I was outside chilling. We did the hugging and gossipping and chopping it up too and when she left I sat there sipping my coffee and smiling.
<br />
<br />The fountain wasn't running that afternoon. It was cold but bright and sunny. The water in the bottom of the fountain gave off glints of platinum that hurt your eyes for a second. A ragged pigeon pecked at some Fritos someone'd dropped and I got up to leave. I tossed my empty coffee cup into a trash can and wished I had the money to get another. Or a pepperoni slice. I wished I had a job, a paycheck. Walking out of City Center I heard a car's stereo playing "Rebel Music". I bopped my head a lil' bit.
<br />
<br />Someone behind me yelled to someone else, and I looked back, nosy. I could see the Federal Building way out past the City Center walkway and the people streaming from it to City Center and back looked like a cartoon representation of a busy city street. The sun was bright and made everything look half-there.
<br />
<br />I went across Broadway to Walgreens. I got a cottage cheese and when I went to pay for it with my EBT card, I found out that that Walgreens doesn't accept food stamps. Rite Aid didn't either. I was too tired to walk down to Chinatown so I just got on the bus and went home.
<br />
<br />When I got home I realized I'd left my lighter on the bench in City Center Plaza. I hope someone found it who really needed a cigarette and couldn't find a light. I hope someone took it and carved their initials into it with a nail file. I hope someone found it and compulsively flicked the wheel until the butane ran out. I hope it found another life in City Center Plaza. Starmamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14394368267018889829noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3484309.post-890659552003-02-13T18:05:00.000-08:002003-02-16T14:00:17.000-08:00<center><a href="http://ofrenda.org"><img alt="starparty1.JPG" src="http://www.ofrenda.org/starmama/starparty1.JPG" width="432" height="324" border="0" /></center>
<br />Starmamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14394368267018889829noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3484309.post-860030142002-12-14T13:06:00.000-08:002003-01-01T07:48:25.000-08:00Poetry randomly generated by <a href="http://cmdrtaco.net/poemgen.cgi">this lovely thing</a>
<br />
<br />From <a href="http://www.ofrenda.org/starmama/archive/000821.html">Sideshow</a>:
<br />
<br />Possibly Interesting: to time to the early
<br />morning hours, Thought really One
<br />bedroom apartment go down Church
<br />Street, where they show
<br />I have also found
<br />myself yelling back in here and
<br />happy to lock us Oakland . I tried
<br />to hear the latest version of
<br />East Oakland right, I have seen
<br />much
<br />ruder, by fools from
<br />us. inside. We
<br />got 2 the footage and freshly
<br />dipped at the air, egging you
<br />talk about. the
<br />side show was
<br />slow, because they do
<br />find people
<br />who spoke out in
<br />a donut
<br />or a homicide report depicts.
<br />
<br />From <a href="http://ofrenda.org/starmama">Possibly Interesting</a>:
<br />
<br />Possibly Interesting :::::: knee
<br />deep INTERESTING you
<br />groan, dumb internet quiz.
<br />know all of
<br />men just took all. So I got
<br />off He
<br />was in there Mm hm.
<br />Busted. I went to happen,
<br />dontcha know.
<br />
<br />
<br />Possibly Interesting :::::: a different folder
<br />than the drunken handyman more... desirable than half
<br />nude girls I
<br />saw that and helped her mother
<br />is the baby . real family.
<br />member or downtown. She said they should
<br />arrest every twenty
<br />minutes or downtown
<br />
<br />Possibly Interesting :::::: lively up
<br />be able to be ;
<br />at least ten
<br />times. Update: just know folx
<br />of
<br />skin between them. before where the
<br />barbershop, a post
<br />written in the
<br />water off. yet got the
<br />landlady
<br />for kids mamas are
<br />gone. There since
<br />been
<br />there a lot.
<br />
<br />From <a href="http://www.geocities.com/moondorma/about.html">About</a>:
<br />
<br />Pretend Married The
<br />King Intensity Dean Koontz The classics
<br />Stephanie Mills, Aretha Horror, , suspense,
<br />true Romance Dalmatians Autumn Nikki Giovanni, Langston Hughes,
<br />Emily Dickinson
<br />Stargazer lilies, gerbera daisies, amaryllis
<br />Lavender, vanilla, Blue or speakers.
<br />Just broke. 1993
<br />Olds Cutlass Supreme SL, bought six incense holders,
<br />one leather coat that
<br />I Know This page will be updated
<br />on a
<br />Decade of my
<br />books a real stereo. , very Best
<br />of chocolate & swirls of
<br />shoes that I actually
<br />wear, one wooden weed
<br />box. Somewhere between two
<br />menorahs, six
<br />incense holders, one TV.
<br />
<br />Pretend Married The Very slow
<br />PC. No particular order Flyy Girl Omar
<br />Tyree The
<br />Collected Stories of my
<br />heart, my heart, my heart,
<br />my heart,
<br />my Smile Alice
<br />Walker Jitterbug Perfume Tom Robbins The point
<br />where I live, I create. Here, ever since.
<br />Blonde hair, long, lean
<br />pants. Long lean pants. Starmamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14394368267018889829noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3484309.post-851181472002-11-26T10:00:00.000-08:002002-12-03T12:39:32.000-08:00On Wednesday night, at the 11:30 shift change, a male nurse walked into my room. His nametag said David Something. I recognized him from one of my previous hospitalizations. "hi" I said, "are you my nurse this shift?" he said yes, and I told him I remembered him from before. He asked when that had been, and I told him when my other operations were done. We discussed why I was there this time, and I explained it to him, including the history of my operations and recoveries. I told him how because I'd had a laproscopy people kept assuming that I should be in less pain than I was, and have a short recovery. I asked him, like I asked all my nurses, to please understand that because of the extent of the hernia and the operation, and because of my physiology, that my pain was very intense and that it would take several days before I would begin to feel better. He asked to see the incisions, and I pulled back the blanket & lifted my gown to show him. He looked at my abdomen for a minute and as he was pulling the blanket back over me his hand brushed against a particularly sore spot on my torso.
<br />
<br />I said "Ow! That hurt!" He said "I didn't touch you". I said "you did, your hand brushed against me and it hurt." He repeated that he hadn't touched me, and smiled. Smirked, really. I was in intense pain. It hurt to breathe, and to talk. I said "What's so funny? Are you laughing at me?" and he said "I'm not laughing. " I said "well you're smirking" and he said "yes, I do smile". I said "do you think my pain is funny?" and he said again, "I didn't touch you." I started to raise my voice, which hurt more. "look, I'm not asking you to apologize, I'm not trying to start no shit with you, I just mentioned that what you did hurt me and you need to respect that instead of fuckin laughing at me." He just stood there, still smirking at me. "what the fuck is so motherfuckin funny?" I yelled at him. "Nothing. I didn't touch you." I said "Goddammit, you did, and it fuckin hurt, and if you're not going to respect that you need to get the fuck out and send someone in who'll respect me without fuckin makin fun of me!" He just looked at me. "What the fuck are you lookin at? You're not being helpful, goddammit, you're being disrespectful!" He said "you're being inappropriate." I went off. "how the fuck you gone say I'm inappropriate when you won't acknowledge my fuckin pain, you just defend yourself and fuckin laugh at me, you're fuckin unprofessional and disrespectful and need to get the fuck out my motherfuckin face RIGHT NOW!" he sauntered over near the door and leaned against the wall, his hand on his hip, that funky ass smile on his face. I kept yelling, my chest feeling tight, my entire abdomen burning in pain. Every breath was excruciating and I was gasping out my words. "don't stand there with your hand on your fuckin hip laughing at me, get the fuck out my motherfuckin room, you lucky I can't get up because I'd slap that fuckin smirk off your fuckin face!" And he smiled and said "I didn't touch you." "GODDAMMIT SHUT UP stop fucking disrespecting me, what kind of fucked up ass nurse are you! get the fuck out my motherfuckin room!"
<br />
<br />Then I heard someone from outside say "just come out of there" and three female nurses came in my room, one of them the charge nurse. I was gripping the rails of the bed tightly, gasping with pain, sweating and crying. The charge nurse asks me to please calm down, which I really can't, and tell her what happened. I gasped and cried and was finally able to relate the exchange. I told her that if I saw his fuckin face again I would spit on him if I couldn't slap him. She told me he would not be in my room again, and that I didn't have worry, all the other nurses knew how badly I was hurting and I would not have a problem like that again. Meanwhile I heard David outside, he was obviously being questioned about the incident because I heard him say "I didn't touch her, she just started screaming at me".
<br />
<br />My doctor was called, and he approved a shot of Ativan, an anti-anxiety drug. My new nurse, Heidi, rubbed my legs, which had cuffs on them that automatically inflated & deflated, to prevent DVT. I calmed down and finally stopped crying, and fell asleep. Later Heidi told me that David wouldn't be back anytime soon; he'd been suspended. My guess is he'd had other issues before that night because I really didn't think one crazy irate patient would get him suspended. I always feel bad when someone gets in trouble behind me, even if they deserve it. I can't help it. But this time that empathy was so fleeting as to be non-existent. Fuckin smarmy asshole.
<br />Starmamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14394368267018889829noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3484309.post-842602352002-11-08T18:49:00.000-08:002002-11-08T18:49:08.810-08:00The McDonalds was packed with kids from their school. They were mostly noisy and rowdy, and many of them were giving the cashiers a hard time. Kwan was glad he didn't work at a fast food restaurant. Yolanda told him stories almost every day about rude customers so he always remembered to be polite when he was buying food. He ordered for everyone and paid with a twenty. He was careful to separate the bill from the wad inside his pocket, so no one would see how much money he was holding. He put the change in the pocket on the other side of his coat. Now he had $639.86. The boys took their food outside and ate sitting on a bus stop bench. The ground was littered with McDonalds cups and wrappers and half-eaten burgers. Battered looking pigeons picked at the food on the ground and chased each other. A man who smelled like piss and alcohol asked them for change, and Kwan gave him the rest of his french fries. The man stood there for a moment, telling the boys about a fight he'd had with his wife. When he walked away Paul said "shit, he probably ain't even got a wife. He probably sleeps in a box with a dirty ass dog. That's who he was fighting, not his wife." The boys laughed.Starmamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14394368267018889829noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3484309.post-828326212002-10-11T01:24:00.000-07:002002-10-15T14:15:58.000-07:00<b>Five Years Ago</b>
<br />
<br />Jayden will be five years old on December 11. Here is my pregnancy journal for October 1997, which I transcribed onto <a href="http://www.geocities.com/starmama30">Jayden's website</a> in 1998. I haven't updated his site in a long time because whenever I open Geocities the pop-up ads make my computer crash. Also, many of the links no longer work, and I don't feel like tracking down new ones, so my apologies for any broken links.
<br />
<br /><b>October 1, 1997</b>
<br />
<br />The baby is a boy!!! It's very obvious. On the last ultrasound, he had his knees drawn up to his chest and there was his penis, clear as day!!! Wow.
<br />
<br /><b>October 8, 1997</b>
<br />
<br />I picked out a name: Jayden Tivon Smulevitz. Jayden is from JADON, which is Hebrew for "God has heard"; I'm going to spell it phonetically to make it easier on the kid. Tivon is Hebrew for "nature lover" (just a coincidence that they're both Hebrew names, but Daddy should be proud).
<br />I went to the doctor yesterday for another ultrasound. They found a small area in his chest where he is retaining fluid. This means that the anemia caused by the Rh disease has started. My antibody is attacking his red blood cells. I have an amnio scheduled for the 13th, the day before my 30th birthday. The doctor said fluid retention like this in larger areas can lead to stillbirth.
<br />
<br /><b>October 13, 1997</b>
<br />
<br />I had the amnio today. My cousin Amy came down from Monterey to hold my hand. The procedure is MAJOR YUCKY and afterwards I was cramping and it hurt to move quickly. Luckily today is Native American Slaughter and Enslavement Day (Columbus Day) and I had the day off with pay. I'm resting and not lifting a finger for as long as I can get away with it.
<br />
<br /><b>October 14, 1997</b>
<br />
<br />Went to Benihana for my birthday, with Mommy and Danny and Danny's girlfriend Mala. I've been calling Mala "Auntie", I really like her and would be proud to have my son claim her as an Aunt, even if she wasn't with my brother!! But I'm glad they're together, they seem really happy. I'd never been to Benihana, and boy is it an Experience!! I'm so stuffed, Jayden is kicking the mess out of me for the first time!! I guess all that food crowded him and made him wake up and be noticed. It's a beautiful feeling, indigestion and all!!
<br />
<br /><b>October 20, 1997</b>
<br />
<br />I have to go back on the 27th for another <a href="http://www.healthanswers.com/database/ami/converted/003921.html">amnio</a>. This time I have to take off work, because I know I won't feel like going afterward. I'm really scared and I don't know how to handle this, it's so hard to stay upbeat and not stress. I cry almost every day, sometimes about little stuff but it all comes down to I DON'T KNOW IF HE'S GOING TO MAKE IT. I don't want to bury another child. I think it would crush my soul.
<br />
<br /><b>October 28, 1997</b>
<br />
<br />I had the 2nd <a href="http://www.healthanswers.com/database/ami/converted/003921.html">amnio</a> yesterday. Mommy went with me to hold my hand. It's just awful. They stick a long needle in your abdomen to draw out amniotic fluid. It stings, then it cramps. I can feel the fluid being drawn out. It sucks. Afterwards I always cramp for a while, and feel lousy. I move real slow the rest of the day.
<br />I think they're checking the level of the baby's<a href="http://housecall.orbisnews.com/databases/ami/convert/003479.html">bilirubin</a>. It will tell the doctors whether to have me come back for an amnio in two weeks, one in one week, or to start the in utero blood transfusions. I'm praying for an amnio in two weeks. I hate the things, but it's better than the transfusion.Starmamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14394368267018889829noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3484309.post-827155052002-10-08T17:59:00.000-07:002002-10-08T18:03:03.000-07:00September 29, 2002
<br />
<br /><center>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
<br />
<br /><font size=6><b>Oakland High</b></font></center>
<br />
<br /><center>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
<br />
<br /><font size=6><b>I</b></font></center>
<br />
<br />
<br />My first day of high school was actually the fourth day of school. There was a group of us late enrollees, and some parents, gathered in the theater for orientation. We were given schedules and xeroxed maps to find our way around Oakland High. A light-skinned girl with a curl plopped down in the seat beside me. "Hi" she said. "I'm Casey."
<br />"I'm Mandy."
<br />"What school you come from?"
<br />"Um, I went to McChesney in 7th and 8th, but I was in San Jose last year."
<br />
<br />Casey'd gone to Roosevelt. She pointed out people she knew in the theater, and I did too. She saw two friends of hers and called them over. They were Angie and Deninge. Angie was loud like Casey, and Deninge was cute and demure, but had a loud laugh. We all compared our schedules to see which classes we shared, and when the assembled students were sent to the school cashier to get locker assignments, we all went over there together. In the line ahead of us was a girl who was looking kind of lost. She looked like she needed someone to talk to. I asked her her name. She was Jeanne, and she'd just moved to Oakland from Palo Alto. She didn't know anyone at Oakland High and she was dressed a lot more conservatively than we were. She was really nice. We compared our schedules with Jeanne's and when we got our lockers they were all next to each other.
<br />
<br />That day I discovered that Angie, Casey, and Deninge all knew Eric, who'd gone to McChesney with me. And I also discovered that from kindergarten to second grade we'd all been at Manzanita Elementary together; Angie and I had even had the same kindergarten teacher, but her class was in the afternoon and mine was in the morning.
<br />
<br />They all introduced me & Jeanne to Jessie, who was hanging out with Eric. Eric and Jessie are gay, and the atmosphere at OHS was pretty accepting. They were both out and nobody really tripped off it. There were a lot of gay kids at school. Eric looks kind of Princey, and of course we were all insane about Prince, and Eric looked so cute in his Rude Boy tee shirt.
<br />
<br />We had lunch together that first day, and as the school year went on we spent most of our lunches and breaks together. None of our families had much money, and sometimes we were short lunch money or whatever. We all looked out for each other, feeding whoever didn't have a lunch that day or treating someone to a snack. Some of us had jobs. I babysat several nights a week to get spending money.
<br />
<br /><center>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
<br />
<br /><font size=6><b>II</b></font></center>
<br />
<br />From the first month of school, we were cutting classes. Turned out everyone except Jeanne and Casey smoked weed, so when we could get five bucks together we'd go buy a nickel bag - which in 1982 would make five fat joints.
<br />
<br />Casey didn't need to smoke weed. She was goofy as hell. Me and Angie were, too, but Casey was a damn fool. She had a joke a minute and loved to mess with people. Whenever we were walking down the street we could count on Casey to bust some stupid ass dance move and crack everyone up. She did pratfalls, too. She was hella silly.
<br />
<br />We finally got Jeanne to hit the weed. She was so cute the first time she got high. And the second and third times, too. I didn't feel as if I were corrupting her. Of course not! I was 15! I just wanted my friend to have fun with us.
<br />
<br />In the mornings we'd all meet somewhere in the vicinity of the Quik Stop by Highland Hospital. I lived up across the street from McChesney; Jeanne was up the hill from Highland; Angie, Deninge and Eric all lived in the 20's, what we called the Momos back then. Casey and Jessie were over by San Antonio park. We'd meet as early as we could and discuss whether or not we were going to our first-period classes. I was pretty good about cutting maybe once or twice a week for the first few months of school, but my good behavior tapered off as the year progressed.
<br />
<br />One morning we'd all gathered on someone's front steps and were discussing our plans for the day. It was sunny and warm and we all decided we weren't going to our first class, and we might just stay gone until lunch. Up on the porch, the front door opened and we all jumped. A guy in his late twenties, early thirties, said "Hey, what are you guys doing?"
<br />We all apologized and started gathering our books to leave. The guy sauntered out to the top of the steps. "Aren't you guys late for school?"
<br />One of us, probably myself or Angie, told him that we all had no class for 1st period so we hung out together in the mornings before going to our 2nd period classes. It was a classic cap, one to be proud of. He totally believed us. He introduced himself, we told him our names, and he said we could hang out on his steps as long as we kept being quiet and respectful. His wife came out and he introduced her to us. They went back inside and we left a little while later - walking in the opposite direction of Oakland High. It was a Berkeley kind of morning, we'd finally agreed.
<br />
<br />We hung out on the couple's steps a few mornings a week for the rest of the school year. They'd always greet us and one cold morning when it was just me, Angie and Deninge, they brought us out some hot chocolate. One day there was a "for sale" sign in the front yard. When the guy came out to say hi he said yeah, they were moving to a bigger house, because his wife was pregnant. They were gone a month later, and we found another place to congegrate.
<br />
<br /><center>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
<br />
<br /><font size=6><b>III</b></font></center>
<br />
<br />We were taken back to school in police cars a few times. One of our spots was at the top of some winding stairs in a cul-de-sac across from Oakland High. The stairs were shaded by trees and were filled with students during lunch time. We smoked weed and Newports and talked a lot of shit and from time to time we'd get fussed at by the neighbors.
<br />
<br />Sometimes we'd just stay on the stairs after lunch was over. We might chill there for a while, and go into class late, or figure out where to go and then bounce for the rest of the day. One day me, Angie, Deninge and Eric were on the stairs after lunch. We were smoking a joint when we saw a police car drive onto the cul-de-sac below us and stop. We jumped up and started walking up the stairs, but when we got to the street above there was a police car and an officer standing in front of it. "Get in the car" he told us. We told him we were going to class. He said "You're walking the wrong way. Get in the car."
<br />
<br />We were brought back to school and Mr Kreuzer, the dean, gathered us in his office and lectured us and confiscated our cigarettes and called our parents. Then he sentenced us all to a month of detention and sent us to our classes. Kreuzer didn't reward truancy with suspension.
<br />
<br />The pack of Newports Mr Kreuzer had taken from me held about ten cigarettes. And one joint. When I opened my cigarette packs I would leave the little foil fold in place so I could close the pack and not lose any smokes. I was hoping Mr Kreuzer had thrown the pack away without investigating it. I went to all my classes the rest of that week and held my breath whenever I walked past the school offices. I saw Mr Kreuzer a few times and we said "hi" and by the end of the week I knew that he hadn't found the joint. I was relieved and the next Monday I was ready to cut school again.Starmamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14394368267018889829noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3484309.post-826231172002-10-06T21:55:00.000-07:002002-10-06T22:14:56.000-07:00Chocolate all over like an Almond Joy;
<br />joy to my world, if this world
<br />were mine, I could
<br />lick you
<br />anywhere
<br />juicy
<br />you're the one who
<br />makes me feel so good,
<br />cutie pie
<br />you turned on my fire
<br />and your love is
<br />on the one.
<br />I'd rather be with you;
<br />when I'm
<br />with you
<br />I concentrate
<br />on you,
<br />sugar you know
<br />I've had a few, but
<br />not that many, and
<br />as we lay I'm
<br />fortunate.
<br />Before I met you
<br />my sun
<br />didn't want to shine.
<br />Write that down
<br />make me say it
<br />again
<br />sweet sticky thing
<br />why dontcha
<br />do me
<br />baby.Starmamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14394368267018889829noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3484309.post-821821272002-09-26T23:56:00.000-07:002002-10-06T22:04:37.000-07:00Today my dog is 9 years old. I wrote this blog entry two years ago, on September 27, 2000
<br />
<br /><center><FONT FACE="dolphin" SIZE="6"><FONT COLOR="#0000A0">B</FONT><FONT COLOR="#400080">R</FONT><FONT COLOR="#400080">A</FONT><FONT COLOR="#65017E">N</FONT><FONT COLOR="#800080">D</FONT><FONT COLOR="#BD00BD">Y</FONT></FONT></center>
<br />
<br />Brandy and I were brought together by destiny, if you will. When I met her, I was with my play-sister, Angie. We were watching "Beethoven" with my nephews Chris and Angelo. The neighborhood dopefiend came by with this tiny puppy. She was trying to sell her. I took her in my hands - she was so little - and her amber eyes just melted me. She crawled along my arm and buried her face in my side. I told the chick "you ain't getting her back".
<br />
<br />All I had was 5 bucks, and I gave it to her. What was I doing? I lived in a studio apartment with a crochety cat and a lazy man. But I hadn't had a dog in my life since my Dalmatian, Pandora, who was with me from age 8 to 18. Angie offered to keep the dog at her house, and the boys promised to take care of her when I wasn't there.
<br />
<br />I was sipping on a glass of Hennessey and Coca Cola. The puppy was roughly the same color as the cognac in the bottle and I thought about naming her Hennessey. The boys offered some names, but then Angie said "name her Brandy, like in that song by the Whispers." So Brandy she became. Besides, Angelo couldn't say "Hennessey" anyway.
<br />
<br />Brandy was covered with fly-bite sores and was walking on three legs, because she'd been stepped on. She was filthy and had fleas, and her eyes were all crusty. I sent Angie's stepbrother out for some puppy chow and cleaned her up. We were trying to figure out what kind of dog she was. Chris said he knew her mother, she was a stray dog whose owners moved away and left her and she just hung out in the neighborhood (I'm sure these people have had some very bad things happen to them for doing that to their dog). This stray was an all-black Chow mix.
<br />
<br />Brandy was a pretty reddish chestnut color, with some black markings on her face and cute little folded over ears. She had a skinny little slip of a tail and tiny white paws. The first day or so that we had her she didn't seem very playful. But once she'd gotten clean and had eaten some food, she started acting like a real puppy. Angie laid newspaper down in the bathroom and made the boys keep her in there most of the time. She's a cat person and only tolerates certain dogs. But because her boys wanted a dog so much, she decided to try to warm up to Brandy.
<br />
<br />A few days after I bought Brandy, I took her to the vet to try to figure out how old she was. The vet estimated her age at 5 weeks; counting down from that day, five weeks ago would have been September 27th. That had been Liebschen's birthday.
<br />
<br />If you've ever had a German Shepherd in your family, then you know what I mean when I say that Liebschen was my nanny. The minute my parents brought me home from the hospital, Liebschen took it upon herself to be my guardian. She would only let my parents come near me, and a year and a half later she was the same way towards Danny. Liebschen was a beloved part of our family so I considered it a good sign that Brandy's birthday was going to be the same as hers.
<br />
<br />A couple weeks later I took Brandy in to get her first puppy shots. Instead of taking her back to Angie's that night, I took her home so I could monitor her. She had a fever and was quite lethargic most of the night. I had her in a little shoebox, and had to lift her head to make her drink some water. In the morning she felt better, and was bouncing around my apartment, trying to get close enough to my cat Misha to get a good smell. My boyfriend was instantly sprung on Brandy. He wouldn't let me take her back to Angie's.
<br />
<br />I bought Brandy a crate so I could housetrain her correctly. I bought a bunch of pheremone-treated absorbent pads and had her housetrained in less than a month. But one night when she'd been living with us for about two weeks my boyfriend got tired of hearing her whine because she had to sleep by herself, in the crate next to our bed. Not only did he bring her into our bed, but the next day he taught her how to get onto the bed. She was ruined for life. I haven't gotten her off the bed yet!
<br />
<br /><a href="http://www.ofrenda.org/starmama/brandy2.jpg" onclick="window.open('http://www.ofrenda.org/starmama/brandy2.jpg', 'popup', 'width=353,height=343,scrollbars=no,resizable=no,toolbar=no,directories=no,location=no,menubar=no,status=no,left=0,top=0'); return false">Brandy is still that gorgeous, well, brandy color</a>. She doesn't have the black markings on her face anymore; just black "eyeliner", and a thin white streak that runs between her eyes. Her ears stand up straight and make her look a lot like a fox. She has beautiful, thick tufts of hair behind her ears and her ruff is thick and white. Her belly is white, too, and her feet, which are small and dainty. Her little slip of a tail has grown into the most gorgeous chestnut and white plume, that curls over her back and gives her a definitely regal look.
<br />
<br />My dog loves tennis balls, running in open fields, and belly rubs. She loves men and kids, but has no patience for babies or toddlers, or for other dogs. She believes that she was put on earth to chase all cats and squirrels. She kills possums. She swims like a water spaniel and herds like a border collie. She's the stuck up chick at the dog park that all the other dogs want to play with. But Brandy, diva that she is, won't give them the time of day. She's smart as a whip, and damn near quick as one, too. She's fiercely loyal and jealous. And today, she's seven years old.
<br />
<br /><center><FONT FACE="dolphin" SIZE="5"><FONT COLOR="#004080">H</FONT><FONT COLOR="#004080">A</FONT><FONT COLOR="#0000A0">P</FONT><FONT COLOR="#0000A0">P</FONT><FONT COLOR="#400080">Y</FONT><FONT COLOR="#400080"> </FONT><FONT COLOR="#400080">B</FONT><FONT COLOR="#400080">I</FONT><FONT COLOR="#65017E">R</FONT><FONT COLOR="#65017E">T</FONT><FONT COLOR="#800080">H</FONT><FONT COLOR="#800080">D</FONT><FONT COLOR="#BD00BD">A</FONT><FONT COLOR="#BD00BD">Y</FONT><FONT COLOR="#D915CA">!</FONT></FONT></center>
<br />Starmamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14394368267018889829noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3484309.post-818198382002-09-19T06:11:00.000-07:002002-09-23T11:19:03.000-07:00Samantha
<br />July 16, 1999
<br />
<br />I don't remember how I met Samantha. Seems like I always knew her, but my first memory of her is from the seventh grade. We were 13, and I already knew her somehow. Maybe we just knew OF each other, and had never spoken before. Samantha, AKA Candie, opened the door to Mr Regello's geography class and poked her head in.
<br />
<br />"Psst! Ay!" She said to someone she knew. This was more interesting than Mr Regello. I don't remember who she was talking to, but she was trying to get whoever it was to go somewhere with her. I watched her while she stood there talking. I was intrigued by her because she was bold, loud, and pretty, and kind of wild and popular, and she was a blonde girl like me.
<br />
<br />Samantha looked around at the people in the class and saw me watching her.
<br />
<br />"Hi Amanda!" she said.
<br />I said "Hi!", glad to be included in her conversation.
<br />"Come with me" she insisted, "c'mon, tell Mr Regello you got to go".
<br />
<br />Mr Regello was completely oblivious to what was going on at the door to his class. Sometimes he would be in front of his maps, his back turned to the class, and some of the boys would step out of the window and onto the cafeteria roof. He never caught them.
<br />
<br />I remember saying "huh?" and asking Samantha what she wanted me to say. I think I ended up telling Mr Regello I had to go to the nurse or something. It was almost lunchtime and for thirty minutes Samantha & I wandered around McChesney. She had me look in a classroom to see if a boy she liked was there that day. We showed each other where our lockers were, and discovered that we both had the same counselor, Mr Pascoa. He looked like Poncerelli. I had lunch at her table that day.
<br />
<br />Soon we were thick as thieves. Candie and Mandy. She was full of schemes. I would go along with some of them, but she kept trying to get me to cut school. I was too scared. But she wore me down.
<br />
<br />One morning she was at the bus stop when I got to school. She grabbed my elbow and started walking me towards the far entrance. "You ain't goin to school today" she hissed in my ear. I looked at her and I guess I looked scared, because she laughed.
<br />"C'mon, Mandy, please? These girls from Bret Harte are supposed to be comin up here to fight me. I don't wanna be around here today".
<br />
<br />Samantha was always fighting or finna fight somebody. She had a smart mouth and was like a bulldog when it came to backing down from a challenge. I totally believed her.
<br />
<br />We walked down 13th Ave to MacArthur, and then ran across the freeway overpass, looking over our shoulders every few feet. We turned on E 34th and stood panting. She was grinning. I was too.
<br />
<br />"Ditch your books" she told me.
<br />"What?"
<br />"Ditch your books! Put 'em under that bush". She pointed to a juniper in someone's front yard. I tucked my binder and my math book out of sight. Then Samantha led me down three or four streets until we came to a blue house.
<br />"My friend lives here. His mama is out of town so we can kick it". I just went along with whatever Samantha suggested. I was way out of my element.
<br />
<br />She knocked on the door and a boy our age answered it.
<br />"Hey Candie, what's up? C'mon in y'all." Inside there were two other boys. I knew one of them by sight, but I'd never spoken to him. I'd never seen the the other two.
<br />
<br />They were Cedric, Del and Michael. I knew who Del was, because he went to our school. Cedric and Michael went to Roosevelt. We all sat down on the couches in the living room and Samantha pulled out a pack of Newports. She lit it and offered me one. I looked at her like she was crazy. "Just try it", she teased.
<br />
<br />I tried it. It was hella nasty, but I took it like a man. And coughed a lot. One of the boys, Cedric, was sitting next to me. He showed me how to inhale. I didn't like it. Then Del took a joint out of his cigarette pack and lit it. It was passed around. Samantha told me in a low voice, "You better hit that. Don't be a punk". So I hit it. I hit it each time it came around. We were listening to KSOL 107.7. I remember hearing One Nation Under a Groove and Shake Your Pants that day. And Kenny Loggins, This Is It.
<br />
<br />We smoked a lot of weed and cigarettes. We drank red Kool Aid. Everyone was laughing a lot. Cedric had his arm around me and was asking me a hundred questions that sounded hella funny to me. I laughed at him and he asked me if I had a boyfriend. I said "no". He asked me if I knew how to french kiss. I said "no". He told me he would show me. Samantha was all hugged up with Del so I didn't really feel like I should turn his offer down. Michael had already punked out and was laying down in his room.
<br />
<br />I'd kissed two boys before, but they were those closed mouth kisses where you pucker up your lips and rub your mouths together for a long time. Cedric put his arms around me and closed his eyes and started kissing me. I kept my eyes open. He licked my lips with his tongue and I laughed. He laughed too but pulled me back again and this time I let him play with my lips. It was really nice. I kept watching him the whole time. Taking notes. I opened my mouth and he stuck his tongue in, and it was the oddest sensation I'd ever had. Someone else was licking their tongue in my mouth. Up until that moment the very idea of it had always been kind of gross. But I started to dig it.
<br />
<br />He rubbed my chest but the only reason I wore a bra was because I was 13. I had to have a bra. Even though I didn't have anything to put in it. We kissed for a long time. Eventually Michael came out the room and announced that he had the munchies.
<br />
<br />Everyone else did too, so we left out the blue house and walked back up towards McChesney. It was lunchtime at Oakland High, and there were groups of big kids walking up and down the street, hanging out in front of the corner store (Only 2 Students Allowed At A Time!) or the Cable Car.
<br />
<br />Greasy burritos and salty chips and blue soda. That's what Samantha & I always got at the Cable Car. But that had always been after school, and here it was lunchtime, when we were usually in the cafeteria being loud and cliquey, and we were in the Cable Car with Oakland High kids.
<br />
<br />I was in awe of them. The girls were so cool and pretty, and the boys were so nasty. But cute. We got our food and ate it outside in front of the diner. Cedric gave me his number and kept talking about kicking it. Del and Michael were throwing jalapenos at each other. Samantha was talking to some Oakland High kids she knew. And then Stoney rolled up on us.
<br />
<br />Stoney was the big ass security guard who wandered around the grounds of McChesney, making sure everyone was where they were supposed to be. He had a jheri curl. He was loud and fast and if you got caught doing something, he'd march your ass down to the office loud-talking you so anyone you passed knew exactly what you'd done.
<br />
<br />Stoney walked up on us and Samantha took off running. I stood there stuck on stupid. Del walked hella fast around the corner of the Cable Car. Cedric and Michael just watched us get busted. They went to Roosevelt, they didn't care. Stoney ran past Samantha and stopped in front of her. She stopped and hung her head. I was still on pause.
<br />
<br />We were taken to the office. Stoney clowned us the whole time.
<br />"Standin out there messin with boys, y'all should be ashamed." I heard kids giggling and kept my eyes on the floor.
<br />
<br />We were suspended. I didn't tell my mom about the smoking or the kissing, but what she knew was bad enough: I'd cut school and gotten suspended. She kicked my ass. I was on restriction for hella long, and warned to stay away from Samantha. I didn't.
<br />
<br />Samantha got me in trouble, scrapes, adventures and dramas. Over and over, she'd come up with some plan or another. Pretty soon I started adding ideas. We cut school all the time. We turned square kids out. We smoked cigarettes and weed and kissed boys and one day I drank some Pink Champale. It was nasty. We got in fights and got our asses kicked and beat some girls up and ran & jumped fences to get away from fights. We got caught by Stoney and, one time, Mr Pascoa was coming into school late and saw us walking down 14th Ave. We were suspended that time too.
<br />
<br />I don't recommend badness to any kid. I hope my son doesn't read this until he's got a degree or two. But Samantha and I built our friendship on juvenile delinquency, and some of my fondest memories are of some scandless shit.
<br />
<br />Yeah. She turned me out.Starmamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14394368267018889829noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3484309.post-818160592002-09-19T03:51:00.000-07:002002-09-19T06:24:33.000-07:00The 40 Goin Norty
<br />December 14, 2001
<br />
<br />Tonight I rode the 40L bus out to East Oakland to get my son from my mom's. It brought back memories, for real. I rode the 40 for years and years. The route's changed a bit over the years - back in the day it would continue eastbound after Foothill becomes MacArthur at 73rd Avenue, but now it turns south on 73rd and then east at, I think, Bancroft.
<br />
<br />It's a long line, from San Leandro through East Oakland, downtown, North Oakland, to downtown Berkeley via Telegraph Ave. The 40L makes limited stops, every third or fourth one through the East Side. It was the first bus I ever rode by myself, when I was seven. When I was in the Oakland Children's Chorus I caught the 40 out to Beebe Memorial church on the North Side twice a week, on Wednesdays after school and on Saturdays.
<br />
<br />I caught the 40 from 51st Ave and Foothill down to the pool at Fremont High, where I learned to swim. We caught the 40 to 27th Street and Telegraph to shop at Sears and the Wherehouse. I rode the 40 to transfer to the 18, which took me to McChesney Junior High and later to Oakland High. The 40 was the bus I rode to get to summer school at Castlemont, and in the 12th grade I rode the 40 to 23rd Ave and walked a couple blocks to the Oakland Emiliano Zapata Street Academy. Most importantly, the 40 goin Norty was the bus that took us to Berkeley, where we'd cut school and hang out in People's Park or buy pizza at Blondie's and cause as much trouble as we could think up.
<br />
<br />Man, the 40 used to be a crazy ride. Sometimes you could get a contact on the 40. I got in fights on the 40. Usually there'd be a fool or two somewhere along the line, and that'd provide plenty of entertainment. In the late 80's I lived up by 106th Ave and I worked downtown, on Franklin Street. Sometimes it took that damn 40 an hour and a half to get downtown. Then they started the 40L with the limited stops, and I was hella happy. I used to catch the bus home in front of the Tribune building, before the 40 started turning left at 11th instead of 13th. Often I'd sit at the bench and smoke a half a joint waiting for the bus. I enjoyed being high and trippin off the crazy mofos on the bus.
<br />
<br />I haven't smelled smoke, weed or Newport, on a bus in years. If people still fight on the bus I don't see it. Maybe it's just cause I'm older now, and I don't see the secret crazy society of the young anymore. But the 40, the 57 and the 82, all buses that used to be pretty rowdy, are quite mellow these days.
<br />
<br />Tonight's ride was cramped, and there was an unfortunate man who smelled pretty awful. Even though it was freezing there were windows open, and most of us around him covered our noses. Fortunately for me, he got off the bus soon after I got on. At Eastmont (can't call it The Mall anymore, cause a mall it ain't) there's a new metro center for the buses, and I got off there and caught the 57 six blocks down MacArthur towards my mom's house. Jayden had been sick, and was with my mom the past two and a half days. As interesting as it was riding the 40L again, wasn't no way in hell I was gonna ride an hour on the bus with my baby. So I dropped a twomp and took a cab all the way back home, to my nice little hurray-I-escaped-the-ghetto apartment.
<br />
<br />And if anyone, anyone at all, out there in blogland knows what the "AC Mob" was, you are certifiably O Town Old Skool and u should send me an email.Starmamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14394368267018889829noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3484309.post-818156102002-09-19T03:27:00.000-07:002002-09-19T04:24:43.000-07:00April 6, 2001
<br />
<br />Aspirations ambitions
<br />falling to the wayside
<br />picked up by no one
<br />faith restored by nothing.
<br />
<br />futility looms
<br />failure threatens
<br />giving up won't work.
<br />but still...
<br />
<br />
<br />if you can't depend on yourself
<br />then there's no one else
<br />and if no one's around at all
<br />you're really alone.
<br />
<br />
<br />how do you pull yourself
<br />up out of the depths?
<br />I mean from a really deep place.
<br />
<br />
<br />can you do it alone,
<br />is what I want to know.
<br />
<br />
<br />can you do it even if
<br />there's no one around?
<br />even if not one person
<br />calls
<br />or comes by
<br />to see that you're okay?
<br />
<br />
<br />or, since no one can be bothered,
<br />do you just accept
<br />that shit is really bad
<br />and feel sorry for yourself?
<br />
<br />
<br />what do you do
<br />when you hate who you are
<br />and how you are
<br />and no one is telling you
<br />that you shouldn't?
<br />that you're worth giving a fuck about?Starmamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14394368267018889829noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3484309.post-813375072002-09-08T19:31:00.000-07:002002-09-08T19:31:03.060-07:00I love this blog. I love the colors, and the way it looks. I heart <a href="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</a> and <a href="http://www.blogspot.com">Blogspot</a>, too. But I can't upload images (for free), and the free commenting out there is too inconsistent. I've been given the gift of free hosting and I'm pretty satisfied with the tweaking I've done to the new Possibly Interesting, so go ahead and <a href="http://www.ofrenda.org/starmama">update your links</a>. And thanks for reading.Starmamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14394368267018889829noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3484309.post-813272992002-09-08T14:45:00.000-07:002002-09-08T14:47:40.000-07:00The man that I'm seeing is very nice and very sweet, but I can't be his girlfriend. We're having a lot of fun but there's too much of myself I would have to compromise to be his woman, and I'm not down with that.
<br />
<br />I met another man last week. He took me out to lunch. Unfortunately, I didn't realize when I met him that he's totally thugged out. And dumb as dirt. Thank goodness he decided not to call me again - even though he complimented me shamelessly on my eyes, my feet, my hair and the way I walk - because I'd hate to have to tell him to lose my number.
<br />
<br />That other man, my friend who asked me out a few weeks ago, is okay with me keeping his offer open. He's kind, decent, and attractive; but we see each other every day and that's a bit close for comfort right now. I would hate it if things didn't work out romantically and it affected our day-to-day contact.
<br />
<br />I've been crushing on yet another man for quite some time. Crushes are good. They're safe, for me, because I rarely act on them. And this particular man has a significant other, which means I won't ever reveal my crush. I'd never do that to his woman, whom I've never met but admire anyway. All I'll ever do is enjoy knowing him and feel a secret little rush of pleasure when he turns his attention in my direction.
<br />
<br />Jayden told me the other day that he wants me to have a husband. I told him I want me to, too, but it takes a long time to find someone you want to marry. He asked me if I wanted to marry -----, and I said no, he's just a very good friend. Jayden said I should marry him because he "plays with me and gives me quarters for the games".
<br />
<br />If only it were that simple.
<br />
<br />Starmamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14394368267018889829noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3484309.post-813217032002-09-08T11:54:00.000-07:002002-09-08T11:54:14.726-07:00Jayden: "Mama, next time, we're gonna go to the jooey factory, because they have the shiiiiiiiiiny gold rings, the ones that fit your ears".
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<br />Me: "You want to buy me some earrings, honey?"
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<br />Jayden: "Yeah, because you're a nice mama and you need some shiiiiiiiiny gold".
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<br />Me: "Well, Jayden, you know earrings cost a lot of money".
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<br />Jayden: "Oh, yes, but I have a job, Mama".
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<br />Me: "Oh, you do? What kind of job do you have?"
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<br />Jayden: "I'm a race car driver! And I never crash. So I can buy all the jooey in the jooey factory for you".Starmamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14394368267018889829noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3484309.post-812821812002-09-07T10:03:00.000-07:002002-09-07T10:04:55.000-07:00What marketing genius thought up <a href="http://www.bigfatblog.com/archives/000305.php">this name</a>? Probably someone who believes anorexia is a <i>lifestyle</i>, not a killer <i>disease</i>. Sick. And irresponsible.
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<br />I have a (irrational?) fear of meningitis. <a href="http://www.nando.com/nation/story/526383p-4170877c.html">This</a> is as bad, or worse. I'm mostly afraid that Jayden will catch it, because kids are always more at risk of dying from serious diseases. And I'd given the whole West Nile story little attention - I'd been in the it's-far-away-so-I-ain't-trippin mindset. No more denial, I guess. Yikes.
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<br /><a href="http://www.asmallvictory.net">Michele</a> posted an entry about a group in upstate NY that is planning a protest at "ground zero" on 9/11/01 against "illegal immigration" because migrant workers are "destroying" their community. I was going to link to the entry and the article, but it looks like aliens have taken over her page. I sure hope no one's hacked her site, that would be some fucked up stanky shit.
<br /><font color=red>Update: <a href="http://asmallvictory.net/oldshit/001248.html">her post</a>, and the <a href="http://www.sqlife.org/">bigots she wrote about</a>.</font>
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<br />My first search referral for the <a href="http://www.ofrenda.org/starmama">new blog</a> is <a href="http://google.yahoo.com/bin/query?p=not+just+knee+deep&hc=0&hs=0">"not just knee deep"</a>. I'm the 1st & 2nd results! I'm just tickled about that, I must say.Starmamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14394368267018889829noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3484309.post-812625202002-09-06T19:36:00.000-07:002002-09-06T19:51:07.000-07:00Yesterday was sort of a non-productive day. Actually, I'm lying, because I hung out with <a href="http://www.ofrenda.org/rawr">Gwen</a> & she gave me a crash intro to CSS. And a bunch of resources to learn more. And we (really, she with me looking over her shoulder) moved things around and made some tables and got the <a href="http://www.ofrenda.org/starmama">new blog</a> starting to look the way I want it to.
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<br />For the most part we sat around and smoked and talked and noshed and enjoyed each other's company. No kids, no boyfriend, just us grrls hanging around the house. I did my nails and checked out one of her <a href="http://www.giantrobot.com/">Giant Robot</a> mags. I adore Giant Robot. They have all the <FONT COLOR="#3DB71E">k</FONT><FONT COLOR="#FF00FF">E</FONT><FONT COLOR="#FF00FF">w</FONT><FONT COLOR="#0000FF">L</FONT><FONT COLOR="#0000FF">i</FONT><FONT COLOR="#E0651B">E</FONT><FONT COLOR="#E0651B">s</FONT><FONT COLOR="#9E3ED2">T</FONT><BR><FONT COLOR="#9E3ED2"></FONT><FONT COLOR="#FC1027"></FONT> stuff. It's a good thing I don't live in SoCal or I'd spend way too much scrilla there.
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<br />We had coffee in kids' mugs with lots of milk and she even keeps Equal in her kitchen. Later we walked downtown to handle some bidness and we wanted to get something to eat. We had a Burger King budget but sure didn't want no BK. I was trying to think of a cheap place to go, and then remembered the <a href="http://pw1.netcom.com/~halkop/food.html">Hawaiian Walk In</a> over on 15th. Gwen said she'd seen it but never tried it, so the Walk In it was. On the way there we passed a tiny, dark little shop with vintage clothes hanging in front.
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<br />How could we resist? They had some rockin coats and prom dresses and every kind of polyester pant you could hope for. A nice West African man came out of the back and greeted us, then left us alone to browse. In the back of the store there's what we figured was a shrine, with a framed picture of Michael Jackson wearing his Thriller-era face, and a record album by some African female singer. The store has tons of old shoes, most of them way too small for my feet, but I did see a well-worn pair of purple Doc Martens that looked big enough.
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<br />We oohed and aahed over stuff and Gwen tried on a really cute pink jacket that I think she should've bought, but since we weren't buying, and since we were really hungry, we cut the browsing short and went down the block to eat.
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<br />The Hawaiian Walk In is a bare-bones hole-in-the-wall that makes delicious Hawaiian food. We had the chicken katsu, which is chicken breasts battered in something that's almost like the confectioners' corn flakes they use in Butterfinger bars. It's deep fried until it's crunchy, and they cut it into strips before serving. Their plates come with two scoops of rice and one of macaroni salad. And their macaroni salad is The Best I've Ever Tasted. Big elbow macaroni, shredded carrots, and the creamiest dressing. Mmm. I always order one scoop of rice and two of macaroni. Gwen followed my lead, and I'm pretty sure she enjoyed it 'cause she polished it off. But neither one of us could finish our chicken - we ate a bunch of it & we both still had enough to take home & feed our kids with.
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<br />Go give the Hawaiian Walk In some business - they've got some good food that won't leave you broke (or hungry).Starmamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14394368267018889829noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3484309.post-812167662002-09-05T19:22:00.000-07:002002-09-05T19:22:02.830-07:00I hate pricking my fingers. So I don't do it every day. I'm supposed to, two or three times daily. It sucks. I hope <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/2225404.stm">this</a> is available soon, and I sure as hell hope that wristwatch ain't buttugly...something glam and sparkly, of course, would be perfect.Starmamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14394368267018889829noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3484309.post-811830202002-09-05T04:01:00.000-07:002002-09-06T09:20:48.000-07:00You may have noticed that I've got <a href="http://www.ofrenda.org/starmama">something else</a> going on in the blogiverse (all thanks & praise go to my <a href="http://www.ofrenda.org/rawr">lovely host</a>). I'm doing simultaneous posting until I can get the template figured out & make it look like mine. In the meantime, you can keep reading me here, or you can update your links now if you like. You won't miss anything either way, I promise.Starmamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14394368267018889829noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3484309.post-811829492002-09-05T03:56:00.000-07:002002-09-05T03:56:44.963-07:00My first <a href="http://www.ofrenda.org/namnam">Nam Nam</a> post is up!Starmamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14394368267018889829noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3484309.post-811739512002-09-04T21:16:00.000-07:002002-09-05T03:33:41.000-07:00100% pure, unadulterated fluff:
<br /><TABLE BORDER=0><TR><TD>
<br /><A HREF="http://quiz.ravenblack.net/flavour.pl"><IMG BORDER=0 ALIGN="LEFT" WIDTH=100 HEIGHT=100 SRC="http://quiz.ravenblack.net/flavour/2.png" ALT="What Flavour Are You? I am Chocolate Flavoured." /></A>I am <B>Chocolate</B> Flavoured.<BR /><BR />
<br />I am sweet and a little bit naughty. I am one of the few clinically proven aphrodisiacs. Sometimes I can seem a little hard, but show warmth and I soon melt. <p><center><A HREF="http://quiz.ravenblack.net/flavour.pl">What Flavour Are You?</A></center>
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<br /><center><img src="http://www.nekorevolution.net/test/philo.gif" border="1"><br>
<br /><a href="http://www.nekorevolution.net/test/t_pastlife.html" target="_blank">What Was Your Past Life?</font></a></center>
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<br /><center>****************************</center>
<br />
<br /><center>
<br /><a href="http://www.arakay.net/other/snackquiz.html" target=_blank><img src="http://www.arakay.net/other/oreo.jpg" border="0" alt="I'm an Oreo!"><br>
<br />What Snack Food are YOU?</a></center>
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<br /><center>****************************</center>
<br />
<br /><center> <a href="http://www.furiesfire.com/quiz/"><br> <font face="Verdana" size="3">You are Carl Sandburg</font><br><font face="Verdana" size="2"><i>You see the world in a different way than your peers and are able to find beauty in the most unusual places!</i></font><br><br>Take the Which Poet are You? Quiz - brought to you out of boredom and pretension!</a></center>
<br />Starmamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14394368267018889829noreply@blogger.com