My recent visits with Renee and Ty have reminded me that there is some Peppermint goodness hidden in my cabinet and a lonely jar each of peanut butter and jelly that could be busy at work, feeding my soul. So, the bread and butter knife have been fetched and the honey has been added as I embark on my 6 page "final" journey. I can't say I am sad to see this semester end, but I can say that I will awake tomorrow with a breath of fresh air.

I am looking forward to the coming weeks, absent of deadlines, and jam packed with dead space that can be filled with anything that I choose. I am dying to be behind some artistic expression that doesn't require too much thought, just a lot of passion. My crochet hook misses me dearly. I have neglected it and the two gigantic balls of yarn that peacefully beg to be transformed into a toasty granny square.

I have been thinking a lot lately about the possibility of following in the footsteps of Ty, Tameka, Brooke, Maricris and every other crafty talent in the bloggy world and opening up my very own Etsy store. I never knew there was such a thing until meeting these ladies. I always tell myself that I am going to sit down and build my inventory of various versions of the same blanket for sale, and then it happens, someone has a baby and I can't resist the urge to give a blanket as a gift. And if I sell a blanket to a friend or family member who has just welcomed a new little one I feel all kinds of guilty. Even when I drop the asking price ridiculously low. Its silly, I know. If you want business you have to let that pleasure and those personal feelings go, right? Or at least not let them stand between you and your potential income.

Next week I plan to hop to it. Break out the bag and get busy. Maybe even set aside a little cash for some new yarn since I need to take Miss J to pick out a color or two for the blanket that she has been asking me to make her. This could be the beginning of something wonderful.

Nope, its not over yet. The fight for equality is still in effect. I wasn't aware of the Day Without a Gay campaign until this morning while in the daily grind of forcing socks onto twisted little feet that were not yet awake. Piggy-backing on the success of the Join the Impact campaign, that staged an international rally for queer rights on November 15th, the saga continues...

This campaign is asking the queer community and their allies to call in "gay" to work today and devote your 9-5 to your community or a non-profit organization instead. Complete random acts of kindness, while fighting for total human equality, where can one go wrong with that?

But I'm not Gay!

That's ok. You don't have to be. If you want every human to have their human and civil rights that makes you an ally and you can still get involved.

But, I can't miss work!

That's fine. Click here to see other ways that you can still get involved. They include helping to seek out and post volunteer opportunities in your area and spreading the word.

To find out more information, check out the Day Without a Gay website www.daywithoutagay.org

Reading Crystal's Weekend Round Up, over at Boobs, Injuries and Dr. Pepper, reminded me of a conversation that Miss J and I had the other day about old St. Nick. She asked me if I believed in Santa Clause and I thought for a moment before telling her no. She had a hard time believing that all that talk about Santa observing the naughty or niceness of children is just a story. I guess she somehow overlooked the fact that there has never been a "From: Santa" on any of her gift tags. Or the fact that we live in an apartment without a chimney.

Believing in Santa is harmless, right?

I use to think so, before the contradictions set in. As a child, I remember gathering in my elementary school's auditorium to take pictures with Santa. Some believed that the old man had actually come down from the north pole to take our holiday orders, and then there were those of us that knew the lap that we were sitting on was that of a site supervisor. Then there were those who were just flat out confused. Crying and carrying on, "that's not Santa, Santa isn't black!".

A couple of years ago my Miss J had this same reaction to a Santa at a holiday party that was sponsored by a African American organization at Cal. She didn't want to take a picture with him because he was black... and Santa, as she knew him, was not black. It took some coaxing, but I was able to talk her into taking the picture. So, what are you suppose to tell your child in this situation? Yes baby, you are right, this is not Santa, because Santa is not black. If so, you might as well also say that not only is Santa not black, but he doesn't even exist. Santa is transparent... a trope.

Have you had "the Santa" talk with your child yet? If so, how did it go? Has your child ever refused to take a picture with a Santa of a particular ethnicity?

Let's hear about it.

(Note: I am not suggesting that it is wrong or bad for you/your child to believe in Santa Clause. This is just my particular experience and my thoughts)

I thank those of you who have commented and who might comment in the future on my last post. The level of gratitude that I have for your love, support, shared experiences and advice can not be expressed in words. So, please know that I highly appreciate your points of view and I appreciate you, period.

I realize that I probably sound a bit like one of those women scorned, who is all too eager to pull the plug on a blossoming father/daughter relationship. You know, the women who grab the child and hauls ass when things don't work out between her and the father, forbidding him to come near. I want to assure you that I AM NOT THAT WOMAN. I am not headed to the Maury Provich show no time soon... perhaps Montell, but never Maury. All kidding aside though, the situation really goes a lot deeper than that. I know that conversations about hair and personal decisions to abuse or not abuse drugs seem petty and not even worth the fire, but actually, these are part of the fuel. I feel the need to place all of the madness in this triangle into context so that you might better understand why I react and say the things that I do.

I'd like to just share an email that I sent to one of you in response to that post. I am not looking to portray my life and Miss J's as completely dysfunctional and unhealthy, I am looking for release. We all have issues and her dad just happens to be one of my many, lol. Oh yeah, I did say that all kidding was aside. Sorry. The fact that I can come here and vent keeps me half way sane, my daughter happy, her father alive and me earning a degree instead of doing time for murder. No, seriously!


Yeah, I too have had my share of longing for my dad, who spent the majority of his life, and mine, in jail. My parents never divorced, but he sure as hell was never around. I knew him through cards and letters. He was a talented artist and I enjoyed and saved every card that he ever sent. I had shoe boxes full. When my mother died he was in jail... I always feared that he would die in jail and be buried in the prison grave yard without me knowing. He was HIV positive and also had cancer. Luckily (for me) that didn't happen. He was out of jail last year, living in a half way house with failing health. He died last September in a hospital without anyone by his side. It was difficult for me because I didn't get the chance to say good-by, just as I had not gotten the chance to tell my mother good-by. My aunt revealed to me that he felt that it was too late for us to have a relationship because he had fucked up. Pissed his life away in jail and now his life was coming to an end. I wish he wouldn't have felt that way because although I never bit my tongue about the ways that he and his family failed me, he knew that I loved him and that no matter what happened and how much time had passed that I would always be there to accept him. We never got the opportunity to build a real relationship, but we did make a certain level of peace.

As for Miss J's dad, there is a certain level of history there that can't be repaired for anyone's sake. I don't want it to seem like I am jumping to conclusions just because he isn't perfect. Its deeper than that. I go above and beyond to keep the opportunity for them to build a relationship open. I suffer, so that I can provide what everyone keeps telling me is ideal for my daughter. A few years ago, her dad raped me, for which he claims to have no memory of doing, and since there was not enough evidence from the rape kit (or so I was told) he was never convicted of anything. Never even charged, just merely questioned. The ball was dropped by the DA in my case and things fell apart. So, I went through, and still go through, periods of feeling as if it was my fault, feeling that if I had not tried so hard to keep him in her life and make a happy home where there just wasn't meant to be one that he never would have had the opportunity to rape me, feeling as if I should have never even reported it, feeling as if I should just forget about it like he has and just make myself believe that it never happened. Because at least then, my suffering would no longer have to fall on deaf ears and I would no longer be internally tormented by memories and what ifs.

I don't care to joined them when they spend time together because I don't want to be anywhere near him. He has no respect for the feelings of others. I communicate to him repeatedly that I don't want to be touched, hugged, propositioned for sex, and still, I am propositioned, and still, I have been slapped on the ass and forced into hugs... all to not make a scene in front of the child. I clearly let the scene slip about the whole "hair" thing. So, I try to keep my distance while providing her the chance to know him, to have him in her life. At the same time, I am super vigilant and extra preventative so the minute I feel something isn't right then its time to create that distance. Its my job to protect her and quite honestly I don't trust him. How can you trust someone who often claims to not remember the things that they do?? The ONLY reason that I allow Miss J to go with him, unsupervised is because 1. there is nothing that will ever happen to her/around her that she will not tell me, my grandma, her aunt, teachers, and anyone else who will listen. That's just her personality and I love it. 2. I don't want to get the courts involved because I don't want to get into any kind of custody battles. I don't trust the law because I was failed and I continue to be failed by justice because my attacker walks free, re-victimizes me on the regular and they say there is nothing they can do about it. Unless he does something physical to me or to her there is nothing they can do under the law.

So, here I am, dealing with the situation as is, and plotting my escape, just as his oldest daughter's mother did, to a new dwelling in possibly a fresh state when I finally graduate. In no way will this be a ploy to keep him from having a relationship with her. Just as he travels to Las Vegas to visit his oldest, he may travel to where ever we settle to visit her. I do believe that he loves her, BUT, it comes at a price for the both of us. Up until a couple of years ago, she was like collateral damage in our relationship. He would tell me that he wanted to spend time with her and when he was allowed into my home he would dismiss her after 10 minutes and start sexually harassing and propositioning me. I made a decisions to take my body back and stop degrading myself just so that my daughter could see her father's face. This was a factor in my rape (which wasn't even the first time). I said no, tried to be free, tried to do what was right, tried to stop a cycle of fatherlessness...but how much am "I" suppose to suffer just to give my child the life that society says is appropriate? What about what I feel is appropriate? For me, safety trumps appropriateness. Prevetative measure trump letting things happen.

There you have it. That's what's up. As Fantasia says, "this is me".

Something happens to irritate the fuck outta me!! I swear, happiness around here is short lived.

"He" contacted me today wanting to know if Miss J could come over for a visit. I found this bold since he had not called her with that apology for acting an ass and making too much out of nothing. I asked Miss J if she wanted to go visit her dad, to which she replied, "no, I don't want to go back over there and if you try to make me then I wont go!" On a regular day I would have gladly left it at that, but I chose to take on the role of peace-maker to see if I could get the two of them to kiss and make up. She explained to me that she was still upset about the argument, so I asked her if her dad told her he was sorry for insulting her would that make things better. She said yes.

After our trip to my grandma's house, I took her over to his house. In the 10 years that I have known him, I have yet to hear him utter the words "I'm sorry", so I really wasn't expecting him to come right out with it today. Especially since he didn't seem to see anything wrong with his actions when we talked about what had went down. But, he did ask her if she was upset and he did tell her that he was sorry. Didn't say specifically what he was sorry for, but sorry nonetheless. She seemed to warm up to the idea that her feeling toward him were returning to pre-argument status and she was once again excited to be in his presence.

Great end to a crazy situation, right? Wrong!

He brought her home an hour ago, and after he had gone the smell hit me. Miss J hugged me and reeked of weed smoke. I don't know if he smoked before or during her stay, but that shit was on her like white on rice. Luckily I am doing the laundry tonight. I damn near ripped her coat off her back. I'll be damned if she goes to school tomorrow wearing a coat that smells like I'm over here running a fucking marijuana farm! That shit is just disgusting! I FUCKING HATE WEED SMOKE... AND CIGARETTE SMOKE... AND ANY OTHER TYPE OF ADDICTIVE ASS BEHAVIOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I just don't get it. I fail to understand, to comprehend, the pleasure one gets from killing brain cells. Can someone PLEASE explain this to me? What is so great about puffing on blunts and leaving the essence of that shit on every single thing that you touch? Its just gross! And fucking stupid!! I went for a hair appointment on Friday and damn if one of the stylists didn't come in smelling like she had just put a blunt out. And then there came one of my stylist's clients smelling the same way. Again, I don't get it. Don't you dope fiends know that shit lingers? Don't you know that WE ALL know that you are a dope fiend, whether you think so or not? Yes you are! Unless you have a prescription for it, you are a fiend. And if you do have a prescription and love to abuse it, then you are a fucking fiend! This gets me sooo irritated. I don't smoke weed, so therefore, I don't want to smell that shit when I am out doing my daily business... and I don't want that shit all in my clothes or my baby's.

I texted her dad telling him that if he is going to ask for her to come visit him that he needs not smoke that shit. Of course he didn't reply. I don't even know why the fuck I bother. How about this just be the last damn visit. I don't have time to be telling no grown ass ***** how to be an adult and how to make adult decisions. How about I just keep my baby with me, where I know that she ain't being exposed to no nonsense. It never fails... I remain to be THEE most responsible and mature person within my inner circle. Its a damn shame. I'm 24, and yet, I am the one that has to constantly point shit out to mofos who are in their 30's. Got damn shame! No wonder I have grey hairs all-got-damn-ready!

Dispite all of this petty foolishness, I am going to continue to strive to view the glass as being half full because... well... my life is depending on it. All this stress ain't doing nothing but digging me into an early grave. That's what stress does. Its way beyond wrinkles, and more about the damaged that gets done to the brain, heart and spirit. I want to live every ounce of time that is meant for me so I am going to work on breaking out of this life, these situations, with these kinds of people and finding my peace.

Since I didn't get to participate yesterday AND since Janet's father is still sick, I decided to do a rare Saturday addition/edition. In case you don't know, Janet is the lady behind Friday Fill-Ins. To participate give her a visit... and leave some well wishes for her father.

1. Snow has been known to fall in the Bay Area within the past few years. I guess we can thank our friend global warming for that! Hopefully, Miss J and I will get the opportunity to throw some chains on our tires (or find an experienced snow driver) and head down to Reno or Lake Tahoe during winter break. Miss J is a snow virgin and I am a snow amateur, we are long overdue in the making of snow angels.

2. I'm looking forward to beginning anew once again. 2008 began on a mission that sadly feel short. I guess a good six months of change was better than none at all. I can surely do better and I will. 2009 will meet a wiser, more content and driven, THINNER Ms. Bar B.

3. Confidence is the best characteristic ever!

4. One of my favorite old tv shows is Martin. That show is a classic, right along with The Fresh Prince of Bel Air.

5. I'm done with putting the undeserving needs of others before my much deserved own.

6. The most enjoyable thing around the holidays is surrounding yourself with the people that you love. Although we are all infatuated with receiving gifts and showering others with material appreciation, the greatest thing of all is love itself... that can't be bought.

7. And as for the weekend, Friday I looked forward to accompanying my bff to her holiday office party. I had NO IDEA that older white people in the corporate world could party so hard =), tonight my plans included putting up the Christmas tree and over indulging in ice cream and Sunday, I don't want to study for my upcoming Swahili final exam!

I managed to get the tree up and dressed tonight, along with a few other embellishments. I tried our revolving Santa tree topper, however, with each pass 'round the tree it took a 360 degree slope. Not cool! I had to retire it. I think a big silver star would look delightful... or maybe a cool butterfly (if there is such a thing for the tops of trees).

This was our tree a couple of years ago. It would have also been last year's tree had half the bulbs not gone out. Yep, that's right. We go fake around here. No Christmas Tree Farm visiting and pine needles for us. I don't know nothin' 'bout trimmin' no tree! I don't even know if trees from the farm still need to be trimmed. So, I just stick with something that can be popped outta a box and comes pre-lit. We still get to add our own flare to it with sentimental ornaments and our flying Santa tree topper.

Last year's tree (which will also be this year's tree) was all decked out in blue and silver and was pre-lit with all white bulbs. We also have a blue and silver tree skirt with matching pillows and throw for the couch. All to coordinate with our blue and white snowman table setting. We may not get snow in the Bay Area, but that doesn't stop us from transforming our home into a winter wonderland. I am hoping to dig out the tree this weekend, after I've finished all of my last minute work. That tree skirt may remain empty this holiday season, but the tree will be going up anyway. Aside from decorating the house, the other thing that I love to do for Christmas is create greeting cards. Although I like to buy boxes of cards, I also like to do photo cards. A couple of years ago I took a picture of Miss J surrounded by presents while we were visiting my aunt in Arizona. We took a trip down to Walgreens, popped in the SD and got busy. Its so easy to do... and fun... and personal. I have a secret obsession with things that are/can be personalized. Since there will be no gift giving on my end this year, maybe I will try to revive this mini tradition.

Have you gotten into the Christmas spirit yet? What are some of the things that you like to do with your family for the holidays?

That would be the fate of the thesis. Its not a sad moment, nor one of defeat... more like a moment of relief. On the advice of my professor I have decided to continue to work at my own pace and deliver a completed, hopefully well-written, insightful, thought provoking, body of work to her next Fall. After spending the last 2-3 weeks drowning in sources, harvesting notes, re-viewing videos, dissecting a 200+ page dissertation, staring blindly into my computer screen, beginning an introduction, deleting work that was probably worth saving, opening new documents, organizing materials and reorganizing my sanity, I accomplished a promising outline and a fantastic first page.

Although the professor was optimistic, at least in front of me, that I could complete 19 more fantastic pages before December 15th, she was secretly hoping that I would stop torturing myself and just move on. "Its not like you haven't been trying. Its not like you will never do it. Its an exciting project and when you are not stressed out you will enjoy doing it", she said. "Its ok. What's one more semester? Its not the end of the world. I'm not telling you what to do, just laying the option out there. Think about it and let me know... SOONER than later because, remember, decisions move things forward."

Yes, it is true. Decisions do move things forward, so I made the decision to accept an incomplete, in which I will use the remaining two weeks to study for my Swahili final and complete a final paper for another class. Then it will all be over for 30+ days. I will be able to regroup, then start the process of insanity all over again.

The Punany Poets will be back on tour next month and that's when I will pull out my inner anthropologist and get to work. The goal is to have a completed thesis before I have to work that cap and gown. I am NOT trying to put in a summer AND "one more semester". Uh uh, nope, hell to the naw. Must be able to say that I have completed my undergraduate career by July/August (which is the end of the summer term, although I will be walking the stage with my fellow majors and friends in May). Piece of cake, right?

Sometimes, a good book can be a girl's best friend. I have been called on by Tameka to cure her itch, by revealing my favorite reads. This is a tough one since I don't get to peruse for pleasure as often as I'd like to. Sadly, indulging in theory and all things intellectual is "the job" and no longer brings me elation, so when I get the opportunity to just chill and submerge myself in a world of fantasy, that is the ultimate delight. Here are those that are currently in eyesight.

The Task:
(a) Fiction book
(b) Autobiography
(c) Non-fiction book
(d) A fourth book of your choice from any genre
Explain why the books are essential reads in no more than 30 words per book.

Fiction: Lola at the Library - Anna McQuinn and Rosalind Beardshaw

This one is obviously from Miss J's shelf, but I do enjoy experiencing Lola's excitement for books and love for reading as she takes a trip to the local library with her mommy. She stays for storytime and then picks out new books for her and mom to read at bedtime. It features a captivating happy nappy baby, what's not to love?








Autobiography: Life Is Not a Fairy Tale - Fantasia

Fantasia is an inspiration. Reading her story enlightened me to her struggles, survival and triumph. Although I have never rebelled against my education, I connected with many other aspects of her life because I have lived them.











Non-Fiction: The Rose That Grew From Concrete - Tupac Shakur

Poetry is one of my favorite forms of expression and this book was a must-have for me back in the day. 150 pages of Tupac's handwritten poetry from his youth. They provide a rare glimpse into the softer, more intimate side of a man who was born into a revolution and who died too young, but not before making his mark.









My Choice: On The Down Low - J.L. King

After a conversation with a friend about this "little secret" running wild within the black community, I decided to read King's confessions about his double life as a married man and adventurist on "the down low". From this one tale I became more aware of this secret society.