Barack Obama Awarded Nobel Peace Prize "Hold Firmly, Without Wavering..."

In the wee hours of this morning, I am remembering the Scripture that Barack Obama quoted at the end of his Democratic Nomination acceptance speech on 8/28/2009:

"Hold firmly, without wavering,
to the hope that we confess."

I haven't forgotten that. By choosing him, the Nobel Prize Committee hasn't either.

When The Hunters Came

This is Part 5 of my Mid-Live Crisis series.

So this fine and fabulous middle-aged deer is walking along, minding her business, and along comes some bright lights. She's seen them many times and had some close calls, but always managed to jump out of harm's way.

Right now she's tired, 'cause she missed her dead mama too much and way longer than she should have. Her mom told her this in a dream from the Spirit World, and said she couldn't protect her no more, that she had to move on.

Our deer was left feeling even lonelier, because she's been going to long without the loving she needed from a mate. Ain't her fault the hunters been baggin' so many of the fellas for so many years. One way or another, they've been disappearing and their population reduced from being put into cages or their graves.

She worries a lot that her own young'un, an almost 21 year old fun-loving stag, whose muscular brown body might catch the eye of hunters - again. The next time they might get lucky at his expense. She doesn't worry too much about her young doe, who is generally cautious where she steps, but recently displayed one minor act of recklessness.

So Lady Deer has been mulling over all this shit in a mid-life crisis, and she wasn't prepared when the hunters came after her...

********************

It was mid-late June. The letter had been pushed under my door a few minutes after the rental office closed. In effect, it said that according to county rules, they could reclaim their property by simply giving a sixty day notice without giving a reason, and that I had until the end of August to move.

Apples Ain't Oranges, and I Might Be A Grandmother

Men, what emotions do you think you'd feel and do when a girlfriend you really love gets pregnant, and you want to keep it but she doesn't? She already has one baby. She tells you she's going to abort your baby and return to her ex, who happens to be the father of her first baby that you've come love like your own.

Then later, you learn from her myspace page at a friend's house - since you two are no longer friends on that site - that she had a second baby... and give or take a month, it seems to be right around the time yours was due.

However, unlike her first child, there are no pics of it.

Hmmm.

Yeah. I might be a grandmother.

Stagnation's Purpose

This is Part 4 of my Mid-Live Crisis series.

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every event under heaven.

"I would watch you sleep in my arms or in your crib," she said long, long ago. "I'd be loving not only you, but every breath you took."

That worked both ways. One of my earliest memories was loving her scent. I most definitely was a Daddy's Girl, but she was my first addiction. Decades later, when life began breaking my heart with disappointments, she was the drug I turned to, the one that would console me.

"I know you love me," she said matter-of-factly, sometime before I recognized that she was become more fragile with age. "Just don't lose your mind when I die."

I laughed then, but until this year, it never occurred to me that it could be a possibility.

The Book

This is Part 3 of my Mid-Life Crisis Series.

Her name is Life. She's an old soul who wrote a book all about me. She enjoys drama, mystery, comedy, and occasionally, tragedy. Just when I think I figured out the plot and how a chapter will end, she'll throw in a surprise to see how the main character - me - along with the others, will handle it.

I imagine I'm in the middle of the book. The author is tricky though. Since I can't see the end of the chapter I'm in, nor the upcoming ones, I don't really know. The story could end at anytime.

One chapter this year was putting me to sleep. Not only did I, the main character, feel like not doing a damn thing, but it's secondary character, a spirit named Stagnation, was boring. For months, I couldn't understand his purpose. No one else could either, including my kids.

******************************

"Mom," my daughter Casey said, "You don't do anything anymore. You're too quiet. I think you're depressed. Maybe meds would help."

"I ain't depressed," I replied, probably smoking a cigarette and staring off into space. "I'm just thinking."

Yeah, and now thinking how ain't no way in hell anyone is ever medicating me. I work through my own got-damned problems without pills, booze, weed or drugs.

Casey looked like she was trying to choose her next words carefully.

The Line

This is Part 2 of my Mid-Life Crisis series.


The line of those I had served was long, and stretched back decades.

In it were Spirits.

They came in all sizes, sometimes in teams and other times alone. Many were anticipated; others were not.

Some of their names were Expectations, Wild Hope, Love, Betrayal, Abortion, Regrets, Study Hard, College Success, Workaholism, Lethal Client Secrets, Lost Youth, Sexism, Racism, Compromise, Mo' Success, Great Dick, Endless Dating, Tired O'Dating, Adoption, Wee Bits O'Fun, Middle Age, Parenting A'Loony Teen, Burnout, Grim Reaper, Irrational Guilt, Mo Burnout, and Loneliness.

Every now and then, Dumb Luck would show up, but she hadn't been around in awhile. Now at the head of the line was Stagnation.

Like some of the others, this mofo was a Customer Service Rep's nightmare, and like the larger Spirits served before him, I could not see behind him. I'd come to hate this friggin' job. Problem was, it was the only one around.

"What can I do for you, biatch," I hissed.

"Nothing," Stagnation hissed back. "Absolutely nothing. Do that, and I'll be satisfied."

I glanced at my supervisor, Life.

She nodded.

I complied.

***************************

This was Part 2 in my series, Mid-Life Crisis.
To be continued...

Mid-Life Crisis, Part 1 Dragging A Horse To Water Is No Substitute

"I have a spot on my lungs," he revealed.

I lit another cigarette and nodded with understanding.

He smiled and lit another one too.


(Excerpt, Part 5 or 6)



*******************************

Yeah, I know that sounds fucked up, and on some level it is, but it was one of those you had to be there moments.

I hardly knew Rocco when he said these words to me. He's my new roommate. I felt not sadness when he revealed this, but a strange camaraderie - that past week back in mid-July, I had been coughing up a spat of blood each morning.

But lemme first go back even further in time, and later I'll continue with this part of the story.

This is Part 1 of my new series, Mid-Life Crisis.

******************************

The New Year brought not the blues, but the lighter version of the blahs. My past remedy was to throw myself into work or doing nice shit for people, usually fam or friends but not always.

Work was thin in 2008. It wasn't a bad year, and politically it was so exciting that I began blogging. In my free time, I was generous with folks who needed help. Problem was, toward the end of that year, I wasn't picky enough with whom I shared my time and energy.

There's a concept called The Law of Diminishing Returns. As a relationship or project begins, the more you give, the more you get back. This works only up to a certain point. Then you began to get back less.

This 'law' particularly applies to business, but also dating, friendships, and parenting. It meshes nicely with another concept in the addictions field called co-dependency. That's when you do way too much for others, stuff they can and should do for themselves. Instead you carry their burden or responsibility.

The blowback comes when you meet apathy, resistance or even hostility while trying to help someone. They might have a hidden agenda and be using you, or they might not really want your help, although they may hint otherwise or outright lie that they do.

The more people involved, the more complicated the relationship dynamics. Think of the sickest office you've ever worked in, and how often it's only a few folks - usually with one or two near or at the top of the hierarchy who allow shit to happen - and together they screw it up for everyone else. We've seen this on political levels since time began, and chances are, you've been in a tight relationship with someone like that.

They keep the drama going so the problems can't be fixed. If you dig around and find out the real reasons and motivations of this person or these people, they may retaliate and try to fuck you over in ways that make you think they've never heard of the words ethics or honesty, and they like being like that.

So if you're feeling like you're getting the 'No good deed will go unpunished' treatment, or being used by a friend, lover, spouse, group, or place of employment, it's time to walk away - particularly if the situation ain't really worth it, or if that special someone or others are apathetic or scared to fight for change. Stick around too long trying to help make things better in your quest for inner fulfillment or altruistic motives, and you may end up suffering from a mean case of burnout.

As my late father used to say often, "You can take a horse to water, but you can't make him drink."

Keep trying to make that pony drink to quench your own thirst for his or her well-being, and you'll burn out before he does.

The thing is, I almost always pick up clues of pathology in others in the beginning, but ignored my inner voice - the one that so often whispers, not shouts - its warning that all is not well.

Wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been so lonely...

******************************

This was Part 1 in my series, Mid-Life Crisis.
To be continued...

Got My Mojo Back

Got my mojo back, and I'm sharp as blade.

With that blade, I broke that ma'fuckin' chain around my soul.

Yeah, that's what I'm talkin' 'bout!

I'm wired to the Internet again. Learned a great deal this year and this summer in particular. Some of these insights and miracles are raw, dramatic or entertaining, and they're waaay too long to publish in one post. I need to break 'em down.

Blogging, as many of you know, can be intensive and deeply personal. When you stop - as I did - and pull the plug from your computer, tv, and even your life, you run the risk of folks drifting away. So I ain't really sure who's left standing out here in cyberspace.

I ain't one for talking to myself, so if the interest is there I'll throw them up as a series of shorts in the Kit's Essays: Up Close & Personal in My Black America category.

Let me know; I'd like to hear from you. Special thanks to those who dropped me a line or left comments over the summer or had me in your thoughts or prayers.

~ Kit

The Remedy For Burnout: Pull The Plug

Pulling the plug was easier than I thought.

Figuratively, that's what I did earlier this year. Stopped watching and reading so much news on cable, mainstream and alternative sites and blogs, and stopped blogging. So many of so-called conspiracy theories have been exposed to be true, some thankfully have not. The evil that people do, particularly ones with the power and money to affect the masses finally overwhelmed me.

So I tuned out.

Not completely; I still skim the news or what passes for news each day, but limit myself to 15 to 30 minutes a day, and some days don't watch or read it at all, and instantly click off propaganda designed to stir up anxiety and/or hatred among people.

This strategy still has not insulated me from racism or hate. I have a pretty nasty landlord whom I complained about last year for talking to me abusively and behaving horribly in general. She held a grudge for this and waited for the perfect moment to do a payback. Despite paying my rent on time and even early for years, she concocted a reason to justify telling me to move within certain timeframe legally allowed by the law. They can do this where I live, as the deck is stacked in favor of landlords, not tenants.

I complained to her boss. He's a 60-something year old white guy who can't wrap his old school brain around the concept that a black tenant has rights to be respected, which is clearly stated on the lease.

In a nutshell, I've been given the "uppity Negro" treatment, where complaining about injustice results in retaliation and more injustice.

Thus, I'm in the process of moving. I may or may not have a viable lawsuit, depending on whether an attorney thinks the case could be won. Pursuing court action is always stressful, which is one reason so many date rape victims don't press charges. They want justice and often revenge, but neither comes swiftly and it's not guaranteed in a he-said she-said scenario where neither is provable and there is no hard evidence beyond the spoken word.

I have my written words as documentation in this case, but these white collar thugs have put nearly nothing in writing themselves, and say one thing one day then deny they said it or that I "misunderstood" what was said. This ordeal has sucked the joy out of my summer. The cumulative effect of racism in my life plus this made me very, very depressed.

On the other hand...

Sometimes it's just time to move on. I found a new place and if things go well, will sign a lease early next week. It's actually nicer than where I live now and a little cheaper, and my youngest can walk to school. It's a house, so we'll have a backyard. There's another tenant who sublets the basement, but he seems cool, and we'd only share the laundry room.

I thought I might need a little extra money too, so I looked around for another job, something part-time. Went to an interview this week and the lady hired me on the spot. Pays really well and the hours have great flexibility.

The only thing is, she said I have a physical and an x-ray for a TB test. I was exposed to TB nearly 20 years ago. Didn't have it, but if the skin test is positive, they put you on medication for 6 to 9 months.

Hell, I haven't been to a doctor is six years because I have no health insurance. So first things first. On Friday I went to a community health clinic and got the X-ray for $20. My fear is not TB, but lung cancer. Recently, each morning when I awaken, I cough up a little blood. It's not much, and is usually dark, but on Friday it was bright red.

I've wondered if my many years of off-and-on smoking caught up with me. TB would be welcome compared to cancer, since the former is usually curable.

I've been thinking of an old saying a lot and in my mind, repeat it like a mantra to keep me calm and grounded in reality: what's done is done, and what has been done, cannot be undone.

I don't pray for mercy, only strength and ability to plan well for my youngest child's life. My son is grown and has been working all year, and should be able to fend for himself if things don't work out for me.

And at night I tell myself, God's Will be done, God's Will be done, God's Will be done...

and whatever happens, because of this, I know that I'll be okay.

Call It What It Is: The Swine-Avian Flu

It's been so long since I last posted or checked my Google account that I had to think a few minutes to remember my password. This may be a clue to why I never married - when I walk away, I often run - leaving that person or thing in the dust.

I ran from fear, and straight into the blues so blue they're blue-black.

Am I back or just visiting?

Don't know.

All I know is that last post I wrote blew my mind, a mind that was already on empathy-overdrive for the sorrows of the world. This was a layer of pain on top of my own triggered by an intense self-reflection from being sick as a damn dog ready to be to put down. That was back in late February.

I pulled the Internet plug - email included - and avoided it all like poison, and barely watched the news. Running from the fear and pain was the only way to keep those two bitches from swallowing me up.

I still ain't right, but had to write for now.

So, lemme get to the point. The broadcast media needs to call this shit what it is: the Swine-Avian Flu, or if they really wanna be 'laymen' precise, the Swine-Avian-Human Flu.

Yeah, Google News that shit: swine, avian, and flu. Far as I'm concerned, the disease on the global block is a madman's creation. A dash of pig flu, a dash of bird flu, mix it with human flu, and unleash simultaneously in several countries.

Yeah, like that lab did in February, when they shipped out flu vaccinations to 18 different countries. It was contaminated with bird flu, i.e. Avian Flu (deliberately, is my opinion, since safeguards would make this impossible). But the Hand of God, or Fate for the non-spiritual, caught "the error". By that time several news organizations had reported it - but then the story mysteriously began disappearing in early March, right around the time I posted on it.

Damn.

Far as I'm concerned, the genocidal, depopulationist powers-that-be quashed that story - the same way they have their media servants fail to mention now that this new flu has components of bird flu mixed in it.

Now all of a sudden not one but two strains of swine flu plus avian flu, all now suddenly capable of human transmission and mixed with a human flu, found it's way into one cocktail.

Sloppy work, New World Order. Who the fuck is gonna believe that shit happened naturally?

And ya wanna know why the media keeps the word 'avian' out of their conversations and description of it? My best guess is doing so would trigger questions about that US lab in Eastern Europe that shipped off contaminated vaccinations ten weeks ago. They've done a swell job of keeping a lid on that story, and intend to continue doing so less the unwashed masses catch on that the filthy rich Genocidal Class decided the planet's resources are too thin to support six billion human beings.

I also think these globalists have been having a covert war with Mexico. Out of the blue this year, that's all we began hearing on tv. Mexico Drug Wars this and that... don't go there, you might be shot dead!

Well, that plan of killing a chunk of their economy via tourism didn't work fast enough, so my best guess is they sprinkled that concocted flu from hell in Mexico. Ain't hardly nobody going there now.

This same small group of banksta-gangtas killed our economy and the world economy. The long term plan of the New World Order, as I've written before, is to consolidate the US, Canada and Mexico into one country with one currency and Constitution, called the North American Union.

The world has entered a phase of no-more-profits at a time of diminishing resources. In the racist, sociopathic, entitled minds of greedy, this equates to being broke and poor and losing their grip on controlling the world. Their solution is reduce the population and keep non-Western countries in grinding poverty to ensure that Manifest Destiny, i.e., white privilege, will continue throughout this century.

But God had a plan.

This new man-made (my opinion) virus doesn't quite pack the punch they hoped it would. I'm sorry for those who have and will die, but it's mild in most people - and should provide immunity against the more virulent avian/bird flu once they recover. This is how flu viruses operate - what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger.

I'm not giving advice, but I'm not taking any precautions against catching it. My daughter has flu symptoms and I ain't worried at all. A small number of her friends have caught 'something' but it's mild. Mild, not even as harsh as regular kick-azz flu. At least one school in our county was closed Friday. Shit, they shoulda kept it open and enforced hand-holding and hugging, heh-heh, so if and when more malevolent strains hit the US, they'll have some immunity.

Should I fall ill and even die from this shit, what will be, will be. I've been to the bowels of hell with depression in March and April, the result of being sick as shit in late February and early March, and having way more time than usual to reflect on my life. That ain't necessarily a good thing, thinking about all the sad things that happened that I have never written about, or all the regrets, all the woulda-coulda-shoulda shit that can make you insane if you obsess on it too much.

I'd like to apologize to those few who may have been concerned and wrote me. I haven't read or written anyone in over six weeks. Instead I've wallowed in my sorrows during the time when I wasn't absorbed in watching movies or listening to music while playing video games as a distraction from getting lost in the Devil's looking glass, where all you see is regrets and loss.

I doubt that I'll blog again for a week or two or more. I'm not sure if I've lost my mojo for it; I'm still recovering from the 'shocks' of all the bad news, hate and cruelty.

Soon I'll try to weed through my emails and comments of the past six or eight weeks and thank those of you personally, but for now, as far as the electronic and print news media goes, I'm still in 'tune-out' mode.

Illusion or reality, this feels like an emotionally safe strategy and place, and for now, that's good enough.