Dorothy was on to something

There really is no place like home.

I've always considered myself somewhat of a rolling stone.  While most of my family and friends have lived in the same state all their lives and rarely leave it, I left home at the ripe old age of 17 and began a journey of not living in the same state for more than a year or two that has lasted nearly a decade now (damn, I'm getting old). 

I spent summers traveling to different countries, and then traveling all throughout those countries; I picked up my whole life and moved from one coast to the other on a whim. I pride myself on being a "road warrior", having spent the night in over 40 states, and never needing even a day's notice to be ready for a weekend adventure to another timezone.  I even joined the military with the (completely idealistic) notion that traveling and relocating would be part of my contractual obligation.  Traveling is the only passtime I can ever think of when I fill out a questionnaire that asks "What are your hobbies?"  Because, sadly, I do nothing else exciting or fulfilling with my life.

And while I always came home after a month or three away, I always thought the only thing I was missing was my family (and friends). So three years ago, when my parents (and nephew) relocated to Dallas from Richmond, I started to consider "home", their new house.

After all, home is where the heart is, right? And I know my heart belongs to a little boy in a wheelchair, so when I thought I was feeling "homesick", I figured I was just missing him.

But recently, it occured to me that the feeling I had been experiencing all that time wasn't homesickness at all.  I was feeling "whatever the noun is for really missing someone who's not at home".  They really need to make a good noun for that.  Homesickness. is what I'm feeling right now. 

It's been 1 year and 4 months since I've stepped foot in the state of Virginia.  And for the most part, I've seen many of the people I used to go "home" to see within that time frame (although there are many I have not seen and miss terribly).  What is really making me heartbroken to the point of figurative illness is this longing I have for the smells, the tastes, the feelings, the sounds, the general existence of being in the place from which I came.  The place that made me who I am today.  The church I was raised in, the preacher I grew up with, the streets I ran down, the restaurants I ate at, the familiar faces I got used to, the house(s) I grew up in, and every other prepositional phrase that the teachers who taught me in the schools that shaped me would shake their finger at me for using in succession like that.  I. miss. home.

There's something really essential to the healing of our souls in not only remembering where you come from, but in every once in awhile, going back there.  And I'm thinking it's about time - as a matter of fact, it's way overdue - that I go home.

Homesickness is a real thing.  And it has a lot to do with the PEOPLE you call home.  But it also has to do with the PLACE you mention when people ask you, "Where are you from?"

There's no place like home. 

Isn't it ironic that I had to come to Kansas to figure that one out? =)

525,600 Minutes

I haven't even looked at this site in about 3 months, but something inside told me to sign on here today. Now I know why.

It has been exactly 1 whole year since I last posted on this blogsite.

In a way, it makes me sad. Sad, because this is something near and dear to my heart, and I feel like I've abandoned it. I feel like a mother who gave her child up for adoption when he was 2, only to come back when he's 3 and say I'm clean now and want him back. Call me Halle Berryyyy. Okay, I'll stop.

But seriously. I feel like I have no right to come back to this place. Like I'm not welcome here anymore. Yet something, somewhere deep in my heart is pulling me back. So here I am.

365 days.

I have learned a lot in the past year. I've gone through a lot of changes, physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. In a lot of ways, I'm tougher, more strong-willed, and more determined than ever. Yet overall, I feel a peace that has come over me. One that comes with the realization that I have really begun to find my place in this world. The understanding that it doesn't have to be ME against THE WORLD. But in fact, I am just a tiny part of the universe that is within me. If that makes any sense (it doesn't).

I have all these lessons learned and mentalities changed and words of wisdom to share withput out into the blogosphere here today. But I feel like as a mother who's attempting to reclaim my child, I should probably sit in the room for awhile and see if he comes to me rather than just try and take off with him, kicking and screaming.

So here I am. If you'll have me. I will continue this conversation over the next couple of days.

But for the record, it's good to be back. =)

Dating is a mother

Okay, maybe mothers are a little more complicated (and crazier) than the dating realm, but it comes in a close second.

It goes like this…

You meet someone. You exchange numbers. You agree to meet up and hang out. You say all the right things. You're reading their body language, trying to figure out if they're into you. OR you keep checking your phone, trying to think of an excuse to run away fast if they're intolerable. But for this purpose, let's just focus on the date going fairly well. You walk to your cars, hug, maybe a kiss on the cheek, and part ways. The next morning, you start with the phone checking. Did they text last night to say they had a nice time, or they made it home safely? Will they call and ask to hang out again today? You replay the entire date in your mind, everything you said, everything they said. As the day goes on (or week), you start to think about all the things you might have done or said to make them not interested. Were you too aggressive? Too passive? Did you have something stuck in your teeth? Did they hate your outfit? Were they bored? Did you talk too much? Not talk enough? You start to set up scenarios where you might call them or text them, and what you would say to open up the lines of communication without seeming too crazy or pressed. You send a text message, asking how their day is going. They don't respond. Or they do respond and keep it short. You set up equations and time limits. If they don't call by next Friday at 5pm, you call them and see if they answer. If they don't return your call by 9pm, you erase their number and keep it moving. But what if they do answer? Do you add another 3 days to your equation? Do you plan to casually bump into them some place you know they frequent, making sure to look your best? Do you give up completely? And anyway, what the hell did you do wrong to make them not interested in the first place?!?!?

I know some of that seems extreme, but I promise every single one of us has done at least one (if not all) of these things at some point after a first or second date. The dating "game" is a complex and confusing situation. It causes more anxiety in young singles than STD and pregnancy tests combined. Those of us who think we've mastered the art, if we really took a step back and examined our abstract masterpiece, we'd realize it's some shit a 5 year old could do. And those of us who realize we're clueless, well, sadly, in general, are clueless just to how clueless we really are.

We want answers. We want equations. We want dos and don'ts that work every time. We need to know exactly what to do or say to get someone's attention, and the plan thereafter to keep it. And for the most part, there are equations that work for short-terms goals. You want them to like you, here's what you say. You want them to have sex with you, here's what you do. We watch the shows, read the books. We have the game all figured out.

I once had a guy invent the most fictitious representation of reality that never existed, just because he knew enough about me make himself what he thought I wanted in a man. I have 2 degrees from 2 prestigious universities; he said he had one from a prestigious university. I have no kids; he said he had no kids. I have a good-paying job; he said he had a steady income. I've never been married; he said he's never been married. I love Jesus; he pretended to be a devout Christian. I could probably go on for days, but you get the point, and I imagine you can also guess that after a month or so, everything began to unravel and I found out that about 90% of that was completely made up on the spot.

I felt dumb, but at the same time, it made me think about all the times I've stretched the truth to make myself more desirable to a man. Maybe not to such extremes, but I've definitely pretended to be more interested in, say, basketball, than I actually am. I've acted more religious, or less religious, based on what he seemed to expect out of a woman. I pretended like I read a lot of books if I needed to seem more intellectual. If I was attracted enough to a guy, I knew what to say to get his attention. I know enough about cars, sports, and hip hop music to sound like the type of girl every man wants. But (with the exception of college football and American muscle), those are not the things that really get me going. And all the while, I'm setting this whole relationship up for complete and utter failure.

Because eventually, I'll grow weary of pretending to be something I'm not. And eventually, he won't be able to maintain his act any longer. The chips will fall down, the masks will come off, and you will be left with someone you don't even know in them and someone you don't even recognize in yourself.

So what's the solution? How do we keep this from happening from the beginning?

Well I got some advice this morning that pretty much changed my entire approach. The advice, from a very intelligent and very missed friend of mine I like to call Henry the V, was simple – change my approach.
Instead of going into a dating situation trying to get someone to like me, my goal should be to find out whether or not I like them. Instead of thinking of all the right things to say or do to make myself more desirable to them, I should be interested in whether they're desirable to me. Because if we really took the time to learn a person, instead of focusing so much on whether they're interested in us, 9 times out of 10, we'd probably realize we're not even all that interested in or compatible with them, and it'd save ourselves a lot of heartache and disappointment.

So on date number one, our GOAL should not be to impress them or make them like us; our goal should be to find out more about them. From that point, or goal should be to be honest with ourselves and them, and decide whether or not this is someone who, just as they are, would get along with and accept us just as we are. If not, it takes all the pressure off of why they haven't called, why they're ignoring our texts, or why they're not interested. Because we're not longer interested in them being interested in us. And since we don't really know enough about them to know for sure whether we're truly interested in them, it's no harm, no foul to move forward and find someone else with a mutual compatibility.

So that's the secret. It's simple, but when I think about it, it's not something anyone has ever told me before. I thought I knew all the tricks, all the things to say, all the things to do or not do, what comes off as crazy, what turns them off, what makes them sprung. But no one ever told me to stop trying to do all the right things, and just be myself and focus on what they have to bring to the table.

I feel like I have a whole new lease on dating. And of course I don't think I can just change all my bad behaviors in one day, but I do feel a bit of a load lifted, and I feel like I have a new mindset that might just change everything.

So I wanted to share it with you. Those of you who are out there dating (and as more of my friends keep getting engaged and married, I'm realizing that number is decreasing), stop checking your phone, stop making timelines, and quit with all the expectations. Don't change anything about yourself to get someone's attention. Change your approach. Change your long term and short term goals. Stop worrying about whether they like you, and focus on whether or not you really like them.

I imagine it will change your life.

It ain’t preachin’ if you got Him

Yes, I turned an annoying hip hop anthem about prostitution into a religious proclamation. I can do that.

I was reading a post on my favorite site about a blogger's journey back to God, and it seemed to me that a lot of commenters were in agreement about a central idea: that going around "preaching" to everyone you come across often inspires just the opposite of the intended effect, and pushes people even further away from Him. And while I agree that the best way to show God's love is to display it through your character and actions "so they will see your good works and glorify our Father in heaven", I have also come to realize that (the first part of that quote is) "a city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden." And while pushing Jesus down someone's throat is never the ideal approach, I'm starting to see that the notion of "preaching" is solely based on the reception of it to those around you.

In other words, I'm just bragging about my perfect husband; you can take it any way you want to.

Furthermore, the common opinion seems to be that a person ought to be perfect in order to talk to anyone about God. If they know your flaws, then all you're proving is how much of a hypocrite you (and most Christians) are. I'm not exempt from feeling this way at some point in my life.

Yet this past Sunday, I woke up after a night of partying entirely too hardy in Austin, and numerous individuals informed me that I was telling everyone how much I love Jesus the night before (in several different languages). I don't remember most of it, and at first I was really embarrassed and disappointed in myself because I felt like a drunk person wearing a huge cross pennant and telling people about Jesus was not only incredibly stupid, but also probably validated everyone's opinion that all Christians are hypocrites. But after I thought about it for awhile, I just had to laugh. I laughed because I realized that even in my drunken state – even when I didn't know what I was talking about, and when I could only be honest because the Truth serum was flowing all through my veins – the number one thing on my mind was none other than the Love of my life.

And however anyone else perceived it was their problem, not mine.

When I look back, I realize that most of the time I accused someone of "preaching" to me (when I was in-between faiths), they were actually just telling me how wonderful God had been to them in their life, and I took it personally so I wouldn't feel so guilty or closed-minded for not believing. And every time I've been accused of shoving Jesus down someone's throat (don't even entertain that), I was usually just talking about how much I love Him and how my life has changed ever since He found me. I didn't tell anyone to go to church. I've never told anyone to read their Bible or confess their sins and be saved. I've never done any of the typical Jesus-pushing – because I've always acknowledged that in the same way that I never listened to anyone else until it was my turn to hear it, everyone has to make their own choices and live their life according to their own free will.

But in the same breath, it only took one person telling me about their journey in faith to make me examine my own. So what if God entrusts me with the task of telling my story to someone at the very moment He opens their heart to it, and I pass it by out of fear of offending them? How has our desire to be politically correct and inoffensive somehow surpassed our longing to please God? Because it shouldn't. Because at the end of the day, when everything else fades away and everyone else has disappeared, the only thing that matters is what we do for Him. I'm not talking about converting people or knocking on doors or shouting Bible verses from street corners. I'm just talking about letting your light shine before man.

If you feel like I've been trying to convert you all this time, please understand that is not my intention. I talk about Jesus most of the time because I'm in love. I try to fit Him into every conversation, I try to bring Him up when no one was even talking about him. He crosses my mind, and it makes me blush. He brings me sunshine, and I can't stop smiling. I don't want you to know about Him because I want you to have Him for yourself (though I am willing to share); I want you to know about Him because you just happen to be listening or reading or just in the vicinity of my presence, and I just want to brag about my boo to someone for a little while. If that means I offend you, then I guess that's your burden to bare, cuz I'm not gonna hold it in anymore. If that means we can't be friends, then I guess I have one less friend (or reader), but that's just a risk I'll have to take. If that means you're sitting there thinking if you hear or see His name one more time, you're gonna strangle me and burn the next church you see, then guess what? Jesus.

I love Him. That's all. It just isn't about you.

Jesus is the light of my world.

And I'm gonna let it shine, let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

Christians can be really stupid

Well, I guess anyone can be stupid. But as of late in the days of President Barack Obama, I’m starting to get really annoyed by so-called Christians who follow our religion so blindly that they hate or wish death upon individuals in the name of Christ.

Namely, the dumbest Christians these days are the ones who are praying for the death of the President. Perhaps the most famous of these individuals is an Arizona pastor named Steven Anderson who has been encouraging his congregation to pray that Obama will die “of natural causes” like brain cancer. Yeah.

Yet he is not the topic of this discussion. It was easy for me to ignore random stupid people that don’t affect my daily life. But recently, I have been seeing bumper stickers all over Texas (go figure) that say “Pray for Obama: Psalm 109:8”, and I wondered where all these good Christians were when the election was taking place. But then when I finally came across an article which explained the meaning of the slogan, I was disappointed (yet not surprised) once again. The verse reads, “May his days be few; may another take his place of leadership.”

Go figure. But that still wasn’t what disturbed me. What caused me pause was what immediately follows that verse. “May his children be fatherless and his wife a widow. May his children be wandering beggars; may they be driven from their ruined homes. May a creditor seize all he has; may strangers plunder the fruits of his labor. May no one extend kindness to him or take pity on his fatherless children.”

I know what the Bible huggers would say. “We only meant verse 8 for him. I never even read the rest of the Psalm.” Yet aren’t these the same people who accuse left-leaning Christians of being hypocrites and only taking part of the Bible to heart while ignoring the rest? Isn’t this the same thing they are doing when they rock this t-shirt or sport this bumper sticker?

So, let us be good Christians and read the entire chapter of Psalm 109, shall we? I think we shall…

It starts by saying: “Oh God, whom I praise, do not remain silent, for wicked and deceitful men have opened their mouths against me; they have spoken against me with lying tongues. With words of hatred they surround me; they attack me without cause. In return for my friendship they accuse me, but I am a man of prayer. They repay me evil for good, and hatred for my friendship.”

Hm. It sounds to me that the person reading the Psalm is the one being attacked and accused, while the people they are praying about are those who speak evil and wish harm against them. Since I can’t remember Obama ever really slinging mud at his opponents, it seems to me that when people pray this prayer, the person they are actually wishing death and despair upon is staring at them in the mirror. Let’s examine this further.

“He loved to pronounce a curse – may it come on him; he found no pleasure in blessing – may it be far from him. He wore cursing as his garment; it entered into his body like water, into his bones like oil. May it be like a cloak wrapped about him, like a belt tied forever around him. May this be the Lord’s payment to my accusers, to those who speak evil of me.”

“Pronounce a curse” – that sounds to me like praying that someone dies of brain cancer. These verses seem to indicate that when you wish a curse on someone, it will deflect and turn back onto you. That wishing someone’s children be fatherless might, in fact, leave your own wife a widow. Wishing harm on someone else’s body might enter your own body “like water”, as God promises to repay those who carry out evil in His name. Yet the chapter goes on.

“I am an object of scorn to my accusers; when they see me, they shake their heads. Help me, Oh Lord my God; save me in accordance with your love. Let them know that is it Your hand, that You, Oh Lord, have done it. They may curse, but You will bless; when they attack, they will be put to shame, but Your servant will rejoice. My accusers will be clothed with disgrace and wrapped in shame as a cloak. With my mouth, I will greatly extol the Lord; in the great throng I will praise Him. For He stands at the right hand of the needy one, to save his life from those who condemn him.”

Wow. I don’t even have to explain that one. This is what happens when you actually read the context of a verse, rather than just repeating it in vain.
Those of you “Christians” who really want Obama’s days of leadership to be few, it seems to me that your best defense against him would be to pray for Christ’s discernment upon him, and then if you’re still not satisfied, go out and vote Republican in 2012. But praying for his death or wishing ill will upon him will only bring that curse upon yourself.

My grandma used to always say, when you point your finger at someone else, three more are pointing back at you. Well it seems to me that when you point a Bible verse at someone else, 29 more are pointing back at you, too.

Don’t be a stupid Christian.

I see colored people.

No, seriously, I do.

When I was growing up, my parents were pretty racist. And by racist, I don't actually mean racist. I just mean they hated white people and tried to keep me from them as much as possible.

I keed, I keed. But truthfully, my parents always celebrated diversity and education, and tried to make it so that my siblings and I always saw successful people of color wherever we went. They did this so that we would know as children that regardless of what society might tell us, we could be anything we set our minds to. So since I can remember, I had black doctors, dentists, surgeons, and specialists. My parents’ closest friends were all successful black entrepreneurs, educators, and professionals, and every chance they got to take me to a place where I’d meet people who looked like me and achieved great things, they seized it. I can almost say I had a really distorted view of reality because most successful people I knew were black. Almost, because my parents never put me in any special schools to separate me from the people in the area in which I lived, so I did get a glimpse of the “reality” of being a minority, as well.

Anyway, looking back, I’m really glad my parents raised me this way. When I tell other people about it, a lot of them argue that that was reverse discrimination, or that it gives children the impression that racism and glass ceilings don’t exist. But I don’t see it that way at all.

It’s not like my parents would continue to go to BAD doctors just because they were black (and the idea that I’d have to lower my standards to employ minority professionals is insulting and racist in itself), but they would give a minority first dibs. In my opinion, it’s what we should be doing as a culture anyway. Why do Jewish and Asian communities thrive so quickly and so efficiently in other countries like the United States? Because they support their own. But for some reason, most minorities (Blacks specifically) get it in their heads that black service is bad service, and we avoid the name “Sheniqua Brown” or “Jerome Taylor” if we’re looking for a new doctor in a new city.

Well, I LOOK for those names.

First, because I believe in supporting my own community (especially when I know many people – even black people – intentionally do the exact opposite). And second, because it’s reassuring, even in my not-so-young-and-impressionable age, to see people of color in an extremely educated and highly paid position. It keeps me motivated, even still, to achieve higher goals in life. To go back and get my PhD or become a vastly skilled professional one day. It reverts me back to my younger days, and makes me proud to look the way I look, despite what society or the media may indicate.

I see colored people.

Even if it means I have to venture into sketchy parts of town (in broad daylight – get over it) or share a waiting room with individuals of a lower social class (though that’s not necessarily the case). Even if it means I have to drive a little further, pay a little more (sike, I don’t do that), or take the *chance* on unknown services. Even if it means all my friends get on me for being racist and reverse discriminating.

I see colored people.

And my kids will, too. It doesn’t mean you have to, too. But at least ask yourself this question: Have you ever seen the name “Jahnetta Davis” in the phone book of professionals, and kept it moving? If so, would you want someone to look at your name (or picture) and judge you based on that?

Furthermore, if you have kids, do you think they KNOW for a fact that they truly CAN be anything they want to be? If not, do you show them people who look like them that HAVE achieved the types of goals they may want to achieve?

It’s easy to tell your kids “You can be President someday”, but to be able to point to our biracial President and tell your biracial kids the same is probably a lot more effective. Even better if they could go to The White House and shake his hand. The same is true for doctors, lawyers, and community leaders.

I see colored people.

Who do you see?