first do no harm

A tragic story out of San Diego this weekend, a month old infant has died from whooping cough. You read right, whooping cough. A disease that was supposedly eradicated in the U.S decades ago. Now, health officials in San Diego county are reporting an alarming increase in cases of whooping cough in the area. What could possibly be the cause? Is there a vaccine resistant strain going around? Hardly. It’s mainly a result of parents refusing to immunize their kids due to religion or fear.

I’m not going to be the one to tell a parent how to take care of their child ( I’m really not), but can I ask that if a parent does decide to eschew vaccinations, please keep your diseased riddled ankle biters away from other children.  No matter what conspiracy you adhere to, Vaccinations cause autism or the government is placing ID chips in the shots, REAL, NON DISPUTABLE , scientific data is overwhelming. Vaccinating children saves lives. Preventing your children from catching a life threatening illness is the ultimate height of selfishness. Exposing non-vaccinated children to others is downright criminal.

So go ahead and follow Jenny McCarthy and her anti-vaccination crusade if you want to. The result will always be the same. Refuse to or delay your child’s immunization will lead to sickness and death.

Story link: http://www.fox5sandiego.com/news/kswb-baby-dies-from-whooping-cough,0,1588182.story

shoe fetish part two

A couple of years ago, I wrote an entry about my disdain for shoes. Specifically, the ordeal of shopping for shoes. I have huge feet and cute shoes just don’t come in my size. Two years later, my feelings about shoe shopping haven’t changed that much, even though I’ve found some online stores that carry shoes in my size. /what has changed is my feeling about shoes. I understand why women love shoes. I love shoes. I really like crazy looking and outrageous shoes. Not to wear, but to just look at.

I’m fascinated by the physics involved in sporting 5-inch stilettos. I crave the power that some women feel when they sport sky-high platforms. I crave the feeling of having legs that look like they go on forever in a pair of F.M pumps. I also respect and admire the creativity involved in designing novel shoes. Even though I probably could never afford a pair of  couture shoes, I can’t stop looking at them. I can’t help wondering what it would feel like to slip a pair of them on.

The dearly departed Alexander McQueen will forever have a place in my heart because he designed these:

These are from the House of Galliano.

Christian Louboutin designed these monstrosities.

Painful looking, gravity defining, woman hating, torturous and beautiful. To put it simply: Art.

Letting go..

Climbing up the those stone steps

with her behind me.

Listening to that familiar litany of how I’m not this

and I need to do that and

I’m just not good enough,

Mother wit is toxic waste.

Acid insults are shooting out and

burning painfully against my back.

Making the child in me feel like nothing

again.

Those slippery stone steps

covered with the last remnants of ice.

Impeding the progression to the hell

lying in wait inside.

She’s behind me and she’s feeble.

Her balance isn’t what it used to be.

I hear her struggling but I don’t turn around.

She’s losing her grip as she’s calling my name.

I turn to see her fingers slipping from the rail.

Everything’s has slowed down now.

I grab her hand before her fall.

She looks up at me; in gratitude I hope.

But a scowl meets my face instead.

“Help me” she shouts and she starts to curse me.

Degradations of the past start to

run through my mind.

My grip is not so sure now.

Ruined birthdays and miserable holidays.

All decorated with guilt, depression, and anger.

Screaming breakfasts and silent dinners.

My head is pounding now.

I take another look into that face.

Searching for something to love.

Hoping that’s there’s at least one thing

worth saving at least.

She’s teetering with my fingers

acting as a bridge between life and death.

Why am I wasting time?

My mind should be made up by now.

Besides, it’s really cold

and Mother is so old…

So I Let Go.

Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince Review

It was with breathless anticipation that I took my seat in the movie theater last night to catch the latest installment in the Harry Potter celluloid franchise. I’m not ashamed to admit it, I’m a Potterphile, at Pot Freak, a Harry lover–whatever fans of the books (and movies) call themselves. But after seeing Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, I’m going to call myself disappointed.

The good stuff first. The film looks great.  The art direction, costumes, special effects and cinematography are first rate. I was also impressed with the casting. Jim Broadbent as Horace Slughorn was a brilliant choice. Unlike the book’s version of Slughorn-a corpulent and self-deluded blowhard; Broadbent portrayed Slughorn as a twitchy, insecure, and rather pathetic creature. He brought energy and realism to a movie that was surprisingly short of both.  Newcomer Jesse Cave was delightfully manic as Ron’s girlfriend, Lavendar Brown, but the casting director gets the biggest kudos for his choices of Hero Fiennes-Tiffin and Frank Dillane who share the role of Tom Riddle (Voldemort). Both young actors bear a striking resemblance to Ralph Fiennes who plays the adult Voldemort and both turn in very effective performances. With Fiennes-Tiffin’s creepy bad seed and Dillane’s dark angel, the movie goer is reminded of just how powerful an enemy Harry is up against.

Now to the bad stuff, and there was a lot. First, although the new characters were dynamite, the regulars were underused and as dull as dirt. From Michael Gambon’s lifeless (huh huh) Dumbledore to Maggie Smith’s listless McGonagall, the main players drifted in and out and left absolutely no lasting impression on me. Even the excellent Helene Bohnam-Carter as Bellatrix Lestrange looked bored out of her mind. Of course Alan Rickman is exempt because he’s the frigging man and Snape is the most awesome character ever. I will say that the filmmakers made the first of many mistakes by failing to stress the underlying conflict between Harry and Snape. Their interactions were limited in the film and their final battle left me more than a little cold.

As for the main players, Daniel Radcliffe as Harry, Rupert Grint as Ron, and Emma Watson as Hermoine they have grown immensely as actors. Radcliffe and Grint especially have developed a well timed comic chemistry. They did their best in scenes dealing with the abundance of teenage  angst. They fell flat though when trying to get through the more salient plot points. Most of the time though they were caught looking expressionless in some of the movie’s most pivotal scenes. I was most disappointed with Bonnie Wright as Ginny Weasley. She was neither spunky nor intriguing (the traits we Potter fans love about Ginny) and I was at a loss as to what Harry could have possibly seen in her. Tom Felton was passable as Draco Malfoy. He did manage to show a couple of new expressions other than his usual sneer. And he did look very natty in his black suit. I would say something about Oliver and James Phelps who play George and Fred Weasley if they were in the film long enough. They weren’t though so I won’t.

The biggest gripe I have with the film is the storyline. Now I know that it’s next to impossible to add every scene to the book in the film. I wasn’t to upset with the deviations (the muggle bridge destruction, the attack at The Burrow). I had little problem with what they put in because  I had a such a big problem with everything they left out. Now if you haven’t seen the movie and plan to go, you might as well stop here because I’m getting into some spoiler territory. Not too much-but enough…

Firstly, I knew from the fourth film that the writers and the director were painting themselves into a corner with their heavy ass edits. Now, with the end of the 6th film I know why they opted to split the 7th book into two films. It’s going to take both of them to try to explain everything they chose not to in the previous films. In Half Blood, David Yates and company seemed determined to rush the story to the cave scene so that they could show all the cool fire effects. What they fail miserably at is convincing the audience why Harry and Dumbledore had to get to the cave in the first place. Very little attention was made in trying to show how Dumbledore was  preparing Harry to fight Voldemort. No thought was given in trying to portray Harry’s realization that he alone (with no help from the Ministry or even the Anti-Voldemort wizards) HAD to be the one to end Voldemort because he was the one who possessed the weapons in order to do it–something J.K. Rowling did so effectively in the book.

But the one thing that gets my knickers in a twist is the omission of the most important moment in the book. At risk of being called a total spoiler loser, all I will say is this: I deserved this scene. We who adore Dumbledore deserved this scene. I feel cheated and I just don’t understand the filmmakers’ reasoning behind not including it. As tragic as it was, that scene was a beautiful end to a chapter in Harry’s life and it provided a certain degree of closure that he never had before. The true meaning of leaving childhood behind and facing one’s mortality seemed to be completely lost in the quest to make things go boom. What a travesty.

So I give Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince a thumbs down. I never thought I could dislike a Potter movie more than Chamber of Secrets, but there you go.

crime, death, and inequality

After a rash of shocking celebrity deaths, the latest victim-former NFL quarterback, Steve McNair was laid to rest today in Mississippi. Thousands gathered at a local auditorium in Hattiesburg to remember Steve McNair’s life and to try to find some reconciliation in his death. The person responsible for his death, 20 year Sahel Kazemi was buried Friday in Jacksonville, FL in a private graveside service. Little has been said about her other than she was McNair’s mistress and that she was a troubled young woman.

That disturbs me greatly because she is something else, a murderer. Think about it, had it been a 20 year man who shot his female lover in the chest and the head as she slept, he would have been vilified and rightly so. However, since Kazemi was young, female, and attractive she was given a degree of sympathy that frankly she didn’t deserve.

We all know that the relationship between McNair and Kazemi was wrong. He was a married father of 4 boys who carried on a clandestine relationship behind his wife’s back with woman who was obviously having some financial difficulties. She was also obviously more into the relationship than McNair. But instead of breaking it off or going public with the affair, she decided to become McNair’s judge, jury, and executioner. Her actions were more than wrong. They were selfish, horrifying, and disturbing. True, McNair was no angel. He probably deserved to be called out for his behavior. He probably deserved some divorce papers thrown in his face. Hell, he might have even deserved an embarrassing press conference in order to confess his sins. What McNair didn’t deserve was to be shot like an animal as he slept. His wife didn’t deserve to have to endure the pain of burying her 36 year old husband. His 4 sons don’t deserve having to suffer the loss of their father.

So yes, I am more upset at Kazemi than McNair. I’m also upset with the double standards of the media. Women have as much capacity to commit atrocious acts of violence as men do. Hell, they even have a television show dedicated to violent women called “Snapped” (a/k/a “Women who have lost their fucking minds”).  On average though, women are given lesser sentences and serve less time for committing the same crimes as their male counterparts. Something just ain’t right.

I’m all for equality. I feel that women should be given equal pay for the work they do. They should be given equal access in all fields. Women deserve equal attention and praise for their accomplishments. I also feel that women should be given equal punishment for their crimes and face their fair share of blame equally as well.

Rest in peace, Steve McNair.

saying goodbye

Like millions of folks who weren’t fortunate enough to have tickets for the Michael Jackson memorial, I sat at my desk glued to the monitor watching the web stream. I tried to joke with my co-workers, and chatted with my online friends about the particulars–that was until the end of the program. I saw all of the Jackson siblings and Michael’s 3 children standing together on the stage as a family. It hit me then, this what it was about: His family and their tremendous loss. Seeing Marlon struggle to articulate his pain was tough, but witnessing young Paris bravely stand and tell her father how much she loved him and what she meant to him did me in.

He was a son, a father, a brother, an uncle, and a cousin. They knew him better than any rabid fan could ever imagine and his passing will be felt deeper than any media hack could conjure. Yes, Michael was a global icon. Yes, Michael was deeply troubled. Yes, Michael was a family man who was deeply loved by those who shared his life, his space, and his blood.

As much as I sympathize with the Jackson family, I’m also a bit envious. Through all the hills and valleys of life, they remain TIGHT. That’s just not something I can ever say about my own family. We are spread all across the country and we talk or see each other on occasion. When my father passed, I was not there to say goodbye to him because I never had relationship with him. My mother is still alive, but she has left my and my siblings lives physically and emotionally. And when she does take her last breath, I will not be there to say goodbye to her either.

So when Paris stood surrounded by her aunts and uncles declaring her love for the only parent she has ever known, there was a keen sensation of pain; not just for her loss, but for my own.

Happy Memorial Day

Just taking some time out to remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice.

Happy Birthday!

To Me!

As usual, I’m thankful for my health, my family, and my friends!

I’m also thankful that I’m gainfully employed, that no one has stolen anything from me for years, and that I haven’t been a victim of war or violence.

I’m thankful that I live in a country where the freedom to express myself and to choose what I want to do with my own body is still intact.

I’m thankful I’m not nursing a broken heart.

I’m thankful that I’m no longer crippled with  insecurity from my childhood; the self-hatred that haunted my teen-aged years; the arrogance that lingered during my young adulthood.

I’m thankful that I’ve turned out to be the woman that I am.

wookin pa nub in all the wrong places

Here I am, another single black woman. Yet another number on a statistical chart. No prospects in sight-blah. Reduced chance of being married by the time I’m 40-blah blah blah. To tell you the truth, I’m not that depressed. I really enjoy my singleness and I honestly don’t have the time and energy to devote to finding that PLUS ONE.

The process itself can actually be depressing. Take the traditional “finding a man in the club”. I tried that once. That potential plus one proceeded to show me a picture of his FOUR kids he dug out of his wallet. That didn’t bother me as much as his inability to dig in his wallet for money for my drinks. Having four kids must have really been expensive.

So I asked my girlfriends for some advice. I heard, “Girl, you need to find a man at church”. I tried that once. It turned out Brother Do Good was actually Reverend Freak Nasty. His ministry outreach involved not just feeding the poor, but laying hands on any young single lady he could find. At least he was honest. He told me right out, “I’m just looking for a sexual relationship. So I had to tell him, ” Amen, brotha and goodbye!
After that, the girlfriends told me, “You need to go on the innernets!” So I tried that..twice. The first virtual matchup met me at a nice restaurant and things were going well until the appetizers were served. He then decided to confess that he was still mourning the death of his infant son and end the of his relationship with the baby’s mother. Needless to say after dinner drinks were served in glum silence. I was not thwarted. I tried again with a more cheerful potential plus one. However, he was boring as all get out and quite colorblind. Brown shoes, gray socks, and a black shirt were not the business. So that spelled the end of my online dating adventures.

I then decided to stop asking the girlfriends and just let things happen naturally. One guy I met while walking to class approached me in the right way and we planned a date. The date turned out to be a crash course in, “How to spot a potential stalker.” The gem line from that encounter was, “As a man, I know what’s best for you.” The thing was, I knew what was best for me too, and that was to lose his number.

During that time, I began a period of self reflection. I fell in love once with someone–but it was wack and it was all his fault. I decided to work on me and making myself happy. I’m still working on doing that. Yes, those experiences have left me quite gun shy and cynical, but I figure if I’m meant to be with someone, then it will happen no matter how much I might try to fight it. One thing I did learn is that I can’t force the issue. Actively looking for love is a sure fire way to be disappointed and who needs that. Right?

his purple majesty

  I’ve been listening to Prince as long as I can remember. Even when I was too young to know what his more adult themed songs were about, he has always been a part of my musical landscape. Sure there were other artists that caught my fancy through the years, but Prince Rogers Nelson was always a permanent fixture on my turntable. 

Prince is known for not only being an astounding musician, he is one of the most prolific. He’s released 24 full length studio albums since 1978, and dozens of singles. It’s rather difficult to choose favorites from so many, but I’m going to try in this post.

Note: These are MY favorite songs. They aren’t necessarily his most well known or his best selling but for one reason or many, they have stuck with me. I hope there are some of your favorites too.

• Private Joy-(Controversy) If only for just that one line, “If anybody ask you, you belong to Prince.”
• Computer Blue-(Purple Rain) I love the guitar solo. It’s absolutely gorgeous.
• Lady Cab Driver-(1999) Although it’s over 8 minutes long, the funky bass line is enough to keep your interest.
• Annie Christian-(Controversy) One of his strangest songs, but can a song about the Antichrist be normal?
• The Ballad of Dorothy Parker-(Sign O’ The Times) Boy meets girl over an free flowing jam using rather esoteric lyrics. Works for me.
• Diamonds and Pearls-(Diamonds and Pearls) Rosie Gaines completely makes this song.
• Uptown-(Dirty Mind) Funky Funky Funky. A anthem for personal freedom.
• Why You Wanna Treat Me So Bad?-(Prince) I remember hearing this song and asking, “Guitars? In an R&B song?” Yes!!
• I Would Die 4 You-(Purple Rain) This was my kind of love song. Plus, you got to do that cool hand thing.
• Do Me Baby-(Controversy) Included on everyone’s getting busy tape. Fine with me, even with Prince’s faux climax at the end. I have a feeling many a child has been conceived due to this song.
• The Most Beautiful Girl in the World-(The Gold Experience) Just a wonderful song from a man who really loves women.
• Little Red Corvette-(1999) The song that made Prince a crossover success. But even still, it kicks ass like nothing else.
• Pop Life-(Around the World in a Day) A tale of caution with a pop beat. Brilliant.
• U Got the Look-(Sign O’ The Times)  Another boy meets girl song, but who does them better than Prince?
• Adore-(Sign O’ The Times) Just another quiet storm classic. Prince just knew how to make the slow jams.