A Nuyorican Vision - Thoughts in Motion

So, I have officially moved. I need to categorize a lot of the posts but the blog is up and running.

The new site is http://nyricanvision.wordpress.com/

Rican and The City is also defunct due to the fact that I don't need to do a separate protected blog for personal entries.

If you subscribe to the feed on this site, please visit the new one and subscribe to the new feed.

Come over to my new home and stay for a while.

My blog will be heading to a new home soon. I changing over to Wordpress.com. There are many features that I like about Wordpress such as blog stats and the ability to make certain posts private and therefore eliminating the need for 2 blogs. One of the things that I don't care for is that the user name is the name of the blog. I had to do several tries to get a user name and finally had to take the name Rican. I, prefer, A Nuyorican or any variation of nuyorican. Also, I had to play with the url of the site until I found one available.

Either way, I will be exporting this blog to the Wordpress one soon and post the new url here. As you know the curtains need to go up and new furniture is being delivered (setting up the new blog).

See you in my new home soon.

In a previous post, I talked about a private blog titled Rican and the City and how to obtain access. I have since decided that no other persons should really read this blog. I am sorry to all those who have requested access. But the blog as become much more personal that I had intended it to be. Some of my thoughts may, at some points, spill over to this blog as in the case of the Insensitivity post below. But the deeper emotions and thoughts will be recorded in Rican and the City and remain for my eyes only.

I hope my readers understand my decision in making Rican and the City a personal journal.

Today, I did the most insensitive thing I could ever do to a person I love. I called him and left a message that really should have waited for another time. I have no explanation for doing this. All I can say is that I thought about this message prior to leaving it. I did wrestle with the insensitivity of it all. But my emotions were overpowering. I am not offering any excuses. I was wrong.

The strongest emotion that I was feeling was being pushed out of this man's life yet again. It seems to me that every single time, I become one of the "others" as opposed to one of the "us". I know there are many people who do this in life but with a long distance relationship this causes a big strain. On Wednesday, while texting I felt this distance, this "other" category that I am always put in. I decided to stay quiet due to recent events but that did not by any means made me feel as if all was OK for now. I just snapped when I saw the name that I keep seeing all the time. I just could no longer, as much as I tried, restrain myself. I guess the lack of sleep did not help me either. This name just tormented me. Plus the cavalier way in which I was basically placed in the "other" category made me to lose it. Something has to give is all that went into my head. I keep telling myself wait not now but by Thursday morning, the emotions were too strong, I put the phone down so many times but I finally did it. I finally caused the dam to break. Unfortunately, how the message was delivered was wrong. Actually, the message was never communicated effectively. How could it be when it was done illogical and in such an insensitive way? Again, there is no excuse for my behavior. None. Although, all these emotions were running amok inside of me, I am a logical adult and as such, my actions were deplorable.

So, what should I do? After much thought, I can't believe that I am now becoming so insensitive to others and their situation especially to someone I love. This is NOT me, at all. I have decided to really walk away this time and not look back nor look forward with this person. He will be completely obliterated from my life.

Update: I spoke to my friend who has known me for more than 18 years. She was extremely surprised and concerned on what would cause me to react this way. Then she actually went step by step with me on my actions and what I was thinking at each step. It was very surprising what I learned when she did this practice. My insensitivity was definitely a reaction to all of these pent-up feelings that I had - this week's and the past several months. We both agreed my actions were not my normal response to my emotions and that I was extremely insensitive due to the rage that was building. So now what? Well, I need to examine and work on a solution so that I get myself back to a healthy emotional state and prevent this from ever happening again.

I have a unique last name. Unfortunately, my father's family is scattered and it seems all over world. I know all of my mother's side of the family but my father's none.

According to my mom, my father's family came from Spain and moved to Puerto Rico. But I have found people with my last name in China, Phillipines, and Columbia. I don't think they are related to me at all. It seems that my family tree comes from at one point from Africa but history I was given is Spain - Puerto Rico - New York. But that's all I know.

So now I am in pursuit in finding my family.

Stay tune.

And if you want to know my unique last name, email at anuyorican(dot)gmail(dot)com. Maybe you can help me in my family search.

Many years ago, Cinco de Mayo, was just a reason to drink my butt off. During those years, I never even knew the full story of the event. It was just another reason to drink with co-workers or friends and get stupid.

Today, I am amazed that if it was not for Yahoo!'s border picture, I did not even remember the event. And today, I do the significance of the day. Goes to show how much my life has changed.

The song and video, We Are the Ones brings out Obama's vision in a very powerful way. But is Obama becoming America's Jesus?

For some Hispanics and Blacks, he is one of us. For some, he is not, he's just part of the process. For some Caucasians, he is the answer we have been looking for and for others, America will get worst if he is president. The issue I have is, no matter who ends up being president, he is not and cannot fill the shoes of a savior.

Bush has done to this country what he has done to the business he had owned in the past; deteriorate it. Now, I am not saying that America was perfect without any problems prior to Bush. Racial inequality was and is alive and well in this country. Our school systems were failing our children - black, yellow, brown or white. People were losing their jobs to either automation or overseas. But Bush made the gap wider and added an unnecessary war with an alarming daily increasing debt.

But my fear is that America is looking for that one person to end the war, end racial inequality, save our environment, better the education of our kids, provide jobs,and financial security and let's not forget remind the world that America is not the oppressor that Bush has shown us to be.

Are we not forgetting that whoever ends up being president whether it is Obama, Clinton or McCain, that they can serve, at a minimum, only 4 years? Obama speaks of hope, something that America has forgotten. But hope is not for everyone. It is not a one-size fits all solution. There was another president in the '80s that presented hope for some and despair for others. His name was Ronald Reagan. For some, he was the hope that America needed. For others, Reagan brought homelessness to multiple families, allowed thousands to die and never said the words AIDS or HIV, caused the divide between the rich and poor to increased ten times fold. Even today, for those who are old enough to remember the Reagan years, you get mixed emotions when you speak about those years.

Reagan was America's 80's Jesus. Is Obama becoming America's new millennium Jesus?

I could have blog this in my personal blog but I like to receive some responses from women. So here it goes. :)

My ex-fiance called me today to give me some news. According to him, he wanted me to know before I got hurt. I found this to be very funny, a man's ego, I swear. What he and my other exes don't seem to realize is that no matter how much I loved them, I want none of them back. NONE. All had great qualities that I liked, admired or even loved, but none of them are worth me going back to ever. But if you voice this opinion to them, you are either bitter, nasty or just plain lying, according to them. The truth is that whether I broke up with them or they broke up with me, at one point, I will go over the relationship. What I have realized that in all my past relationships, whether they were good at the time or not, I really don't want to be with any of them now. Not one.

So my question to the ladies, you can email me if you like, do you tell them the truth or do you do what I do and say OK, as you wish?

Based on my previous posts, many of you know I was laid off. So, in between, getting my resume done professionally and speaking to a career counselor, I find myself with a lot of down time. What I have done with this time is pretty awesome. I have done spring cleaning and got rid of all, and I mean all, the clothes that do not fit me. I helped run errands for friends who don't have time to run their own because they are at work. And most importantly, I am working out and eating very healthy. I have time to prepare health conscious meals and have become very creative. So although I prefer to be working now, I am using my downtime productively. Yeah, me!

Since my blog is becoming increasingly popular based on the multiple emails that I receive and not by the comments left on this blog, I have decided to create a new personal blog titled "Rican and the City". The Lady & The City will hold more of my personal thoughts and can be accessed by invitation only. If you want to be invited to this new blog, click here ==> [link] and click the Email link under the Contact section. In the email, ask to be invited to Rican and The City blog.

A Nuyorican Vision will still be updated and contain some of my general thoughts including my twitter updates (see sidebar).

Thank you all who have been following my journey and looking forward to more interchanges.

I read a few chapters of the Bible daily. I started in October 2007 with the commitment to read the entire Bible within a year. Today, as I prepared for my daily reading, my Bible fell and when I fetched it this is what caught my eyes.

2 For the mouth of the wicked and the mouth of the deceitful
Have opened against me;
They have spoken against me with a lying tongue.
3 They have also surrounded me with words of hatred,
And fought against me without a cause.
4 In return for my love they are my accusers,
But I give myself to prayer.
5 Thus they have rewarded me evil for good,
And hatred for my love.
Psalms 109:2-5

A rather appropriate verse.

It surprises me sometimes how the Universe helps you out where you least expect it. Today, as more questions come up in my mind and I look within myself for the true answers, I see someone's away message. Their away message read "What is unforgiveable is the betraying a trust." This simple message hit me to the core. As I chatted with this person, I realized that the Universe or God, for some, was letting me know that I was down the right path.

I really don't know how long or where this journey will take me. All I know that I am confronting it head on. I am not looking for whose at fault, who did this or who did that. I had a year of that. I am looking for the lessons learned and the ways to identify and avoid this situation from ever happening to me again.

Or it could be as simple as the person of the away message wrote to me at the end, "In other words shit happens."

:)

Sometimes endings are great. Like the ending to one of my favorite movies Breakfast at Tiffany's. Some endings, although in the long run, are good for you, while you are facing the end, you are miserable. That's where I am today.

The end of a long relationship saddens me. But in the end, it is probably for the good for both parties. I cannot be who he wants in a partner and vice versa. It saddens me this ending because well, I am still in love. The love that I have for this person surpasses any love I have felt for another human being. So the loss is something I am currently mourning. But like the loss of my husband when we were both 24 years old, I know that although the absence will be felt, life will continue.

He has already moved on, his voice tells me so. I, on the other hand, need time to heal. Time to cry and mourn. But in the end, I, too, will forget or at least if not forget, no longer hurt.

The healing begins now.

Lest We Forget: An Open Letter to My Sisters Who Are Brave
By Alice Walker
The Root

Thursday 27 March 2008

The author argues that we must build alliances not on ethnicity or gender, but on truth.

I have come home from a long stay in Mexico to find - because of the presidential campaign, and especially because of the Obama/Clinton race for the Democratic nomination - a new country existing alongside the old. On any given day we, collectively, become the Goddess of the Three Directions and can look back into the past, look at ourselves just where we are, and take a glance, as well, into the future. It is a space with which I am familiar.

When I was born in 1944 my parents lived on a middle Georgia plantation that was owned by a white distant relative, Miss May Montgomery. (During my childhood it was necessary to address all white girls as "Miss" when they reached the age of twelve.) She would never admit to this relationship, of course, except to mock it. Told by my parents that several of their children would not eat chicken skin she responded that of course they would not. No Montgomerys would.

My parents and older siblings did everything imaginable for Miss May. They planted and raised her cotton and corn, fed and killed and processed her cattle and hogs, painted her house, patched her roof, ran her dairy, and, among countless other duties and responsibilities my father was her chauffeur, taking her anywhere she wanted to go at any hour of the day or night. She lived in a large white house with green shutters and a green, luxuriant lawn: not quite as large as Tara of Gone With the Wind fame, but in the same style.

We lived in a shack without electricity or running water, under a rusty tin roof that let in wind and rain. Miss May went to school as a girl. The school my parents and their neighbors built for us was burned to the ground by local racists who wanted to keep ignorant their competitors in tenant farming. During the Depression, desperate to feed his hardworking family, my father asked for a raise from ten dollars a month to twelve. Miss May responded that she would not pay that amount to a white man and she certainly wouldn't pay it to a nigger. That before she'd pay a nigger that much money she'd milk the dairy cows herself.

When I look back, this is part of what I see. I see the school bus carrying white children, boys and girls, right past me, and my brothers, as we trudge on foot five miles to school. Later, I see my parents struggling to build a school out of discarded army barracks while white students, girls and boys, enjoy a building made of brick. We had no books; we inherited the cast off books that "Jane" and "Dick" had previously used in the all-white school that we were not, as black children, permitted to enter.

The year I turned fifty, one of my relatives told me she had started reading my books for children in the library in my home town. I had had no idea - so kept from black people it had been - that such a place existed. To this day knowing my presence was not wanted in the public library when I was a child I am highly uncomfortable in libraries and will rarely, unless I am there to help build, repair, refurbish or raise money to keep them open, enter their doors.

When I joined the freedom movement in Mississippi in my early twenties it was to come to the aid of sharecroppers, like my parents, who had been thrown off the land they'd always known, the plantations, because they attempted to exercise their "democratic" right to vote. I wish I could say white women treated me and other black people a lot better than the men did, but I cannot. It seemed to me then and it seems to me now that white women have copied, all too often, the behavior of their fathers and their brothers, and in the South, especially in Mississippi , and before that, when I worked to register voters in Georgia , the broken bottles thrown at my head were gender free.

I made my first white women friends in college; they were women who loved me and were loyal to our friendship, but I understood, as they did, that they were white women and that whiteness mattered. That, for instance, at Sarah Lawrence, where I was speedily inducted into the Board of Trustees practically as soon as I graduated, I made my way to the campus for meetings by train, subway and foot, while the other trustees, women and men, all white, made their way by limo. Because, in our country, with its painful history of unspeakable inequality, this is part of what whiteness means. I loved my school for trying to make me feel I mattered to it, but because of my relative poverty I knew I could not.

I am a supporter of Obama because I believe he is the right person to lead the country at this time. He offers a rare opportunity for the country and the world to start over, and to do better. It is a deep sadness to me that many of my feminist white women friends cannot see him. Cannot see what he carries in his being. Cannot hear the fresh choices toward Movement he offers. That they can believe that millions of Americans - black, white, yellow, red and brown - choose Obama over Clinton only because he is a man, and black, feels tragic to me.

When I have supported white people, men and women, it was because I thought them the best possible people to do whatever the job required. Nothing else would have occurred to me. If Obama were in any sense mediocre, he would be forgotten by now. He is, in fact, a remarkable human being, not perfect but humanly stunning, like King was and like Mandela is. We look at him, as we looked at them, and are glad to be of our species. He is the change America has been trying desperately and for centuries to hide, ignore, kill. The change America must have if we are to convince the rest of the world that we care about people other than our (white) selves.

True to my inner Goddess of the Three Directions however, this does not mean I agree with everything Obama stands for. We differ on important points probably because I am older than he is, I am a woman and person of three colors, (African, Native American, European), I was born and raised in the American South, and when I look at the earth's people, after sixty-four years of life, there is not one person I wish to see suffer, no matter what they have done to me or to anyone else; though I understand quite well the place of suffering, often, in human growth.

I want a grown-up attitude toward Cuba , for instance, a country and a people I love; I want an end to the embargo that has harmed my friends and their children, children who, when I visit Cuba , trustingly turn their faces up for me to kiss. I agree with a teacher of mine, Howard Zinn, that war is as objectionable as cannibalism and slavery; it is beyond obsolete as a means of improving life. I want an end to the on-going war immediately and I want the soldiers to be encouraged to destroy their weapons and to drive themselves out of Iraq .

I want the Israeli government to be made accountable for its behavior towards the Palestinians, and I want the people of the United States to cease acting like they don't understand what is going on. All colonization, all occupation, all repression basically looks the same, whoever is doing it. Here our heads cannot remain stuck in the sand; our future depends of our ability to study, to learn, to understand what is in the records and what is before our eyes. But most of all I want someone with the self-confidence to talk to anyone, "enemy" or "friend," and this Obama has shown he can do. It is difficult to understand how one could vote for a person who is afraid to sit and talk to another human being. When you vote you are making someone a proxy for yourself; they are to speak when, and in places, you cannot. But if they find talking to someone else, who looks just like them, human, impossible, then what good is your vote?

It is hard to relate what it feels like to see Mrs. Clinton (I wish she felt self-assured enough to use her own name) referred to as "a woman" while Barack Obama is always referred to as "a black man." One would think she is just any woman, colorless, race-less, past-less, but she is not. She carries all the history of white womanhood in America in her person; it would be a miracle if we, and the world, did not react to this fact. How dishonest it is, to attempt to make her innocent of her racial inheritance.

I can easily imagine Obama sitting down and talking, person to person, with any leader, woman, man, child or common person, in the world, with no baggage of past servitude or race supremacy to mar their talks. I cannot see the same scenario with Mrs. Clinton who would drag into Twenty-First Century American leadership the same image of white privilege and distance from the reality of others' lives that has so marred our country's contacts with the rest of the world.

And yes, I would adore having a woman president of the United States . My choice would be Representative Barbara Lee, who alone voted in Congress five years ago not to make war on Iraq . That to me is leadership, morality, and courage; if she had been white I would have cheered just as hard. But she is not running for the highest office in the land, Mrs. Clinton is. And because Mrs. Clinton is a woman and because she may be very good at what she does, many people, including some younger women in my own family, originally favored her over Obama. I understand this, almost. It is because, in my own nieces' case, there is little memory, apparently, of the foundational inequities that still plague people of color and poor whites in this country. Why, even though our family has been here longer than most North American families - and only partly due to the fact that we have Native American genes - we very recently, in my lifetime, secured the right to vote, and only after numbers of people suffered and died for it.

When I offered the word "Womanism" many years ago, it was to give us a tool to use, as feminist women of color, in times like these. These are the moments we can see clearly, and must honor devotedly, our singular path as women of color in the United States . We are not white women and this truth has been ground into us for centuries, often in brutal ways. But neither are we inclined to follow a black person, man or woman, unless they demonstrate considerable courage, intelligence, compassion and substance. I am delighted that so many women of color support Barack Obama -and genuinely proud of the many young and old white women and men who do.

Imagine, if he wins the presidency we will have not one but three black women in the White House; one tall, two somewhat shorter; none of them carrying the washing in and out of the back door. The bottom line for most of us is: With whom do we have a better chance of surviving the madness and fear we are presently enduring, and with whom do we wish to set off on a journey of new possibility? In other words, as the Hopi elders would say: Who do we want in the boat with us as we head for the rapids? Who is likely to know how best to share the meager garden produce and water? We are advised by the Hopi elders to celebrate this time, whatever its adversities.

We have come a long way, Sisters, and we are up to the challenges of our time. One of which is to build alliances based not on race, ethnicity, color, nationality, sexual preference or gender, but on Truth. Celebrate our journey. Enjoy the miracle we are witnessing. Do not stress over its outcome. Even if Obama becomes president, our country is in such ruin it may well be beyond his power to lead us toward rehabilitation. If he is elected however, we must, individually and collectively, as citizens of the pla net , insist on helping him do the best job that can be done; more, we must insist that he demand this of us. It is a blessing that our mothers taught us not to fear hard work. Know, as the Hopi elders declare: The river has its destination. And remember, as poet June Jordan and Sweet Honey in the Rock never tired of telling us: We are the ones we have been waiting for.

Namaste;

And with all my love,

Alice Walker

Cazul
Northern California
First Day of Spring

Yesterday evening, I attended my building owners' meeting with the tenants. Over the years, the building has dramatically declined. In the past, we were voted Best Building of the Block; unfortunately, I don't remember the year. But today, due to previous building management's neglect, the building is falling apart. We haven't had an elevator since November 2007; some apartments look like the New York's Public Sewer system; a rooftop leak issue and the building's security is non-existent.

The building recently was assigned a new property manager, a rather young man with a head on his shoulders and probably in need of a few customer services classes but nothing serious. As he was trying to explain the issues at hand, several tenants were just screaming at him, talking over each other and pretty much getting on my nerves. It seems that when these meetings take place, they are usually the loudest of the group. They never provide a solution or even an alternate method but are quick to complain. Now, please note that we, as tenants have the right to complain about the living conditions in this building; this is not the issue at all and please don't misunderstand the point that I am trying to make. They want building security provided due to our increasing drug trafficking problems but don't want their children questioned by the police to verify residency. Unfortunately, the good must come with the bad. One of the property managers that had been dealing with the building for over 10 years said it best, "You either assist in solving the issue and do something about it or live with it but don't complain." She was absolutely right, they complain but don't call the police. I have called the police numerous times, and know you can report an incident anonymously. I know this because I have done it. Of course, there's always someone new with the story about how the police "snitched" that it was them who reported the issue. I am always suspicious of this story. It reminds me of Elvis, Loch Ness Monster and Big Foot sightings - good story to tell but not very believable as you look at the storyteller. But I digress in the reason for this post.

A few tenants ask logical questions and looked to work with the building owners for a resolution to the issues. But the majority are complainers who love to hear themselves talk. As I looked at these complainers without resolution, I was unable to help myself and I passed judgment (something I definitely have to work on as a Christian). These are the same people who tend to owe rent (for whatever reason that is none of my business) and/or always feel like everybody is out to get them. Believe me, I have spoken to these people enough to know that even if there is nothing wrong they will complain about something anyway or if they really can't find anything to complain about, they just gossip about their fellow neighbors.

In this world, you may sometimes or most of the times fall under the one of the following: a complainer without resolutions, a complainer who tries to find a resolution, a do-nothinger, or a resolution provider.

Which one are you?

So, this morning, as soon as I woke up, I thanked God for another day and for all blessings in my life. I haven't done this in a very long time. As soon as I began my thanks, the pit in my stomache disappeared. As I was fixing breakfast, I decided to play some music. My spirit was completely lifted.

It's raining in NYC today but to me it felt like a beautiful summer day, I actually was singing as I took the train heading downtown. While on the train, a couple with an adorable baby sat next to me. The baby starting gurgling, smiling and wanting to go with me. The couple were so surprised, they said she had never done that with a stranger before. As I was holding the baby and playing with her, the father said he had to take a picture because no one will believe that his daughter wanted, much less, allowed a stranger to take her. The mother said, 'I think I know why. I feel such a happy and warm feeling coming from you. I guess she feels it too.' I was a bit surprised by the comment but thanked her. I played with baby all the way to my destination. At that point, I had to return the baby who did not want to go back to her parents.

Today is the day that I go to see my career counselor. The moment, I said hello, she said 'Whew, I see you're back to normal. Last week, although you were smiling, it wasn't your normal smile and the twinkle in your eyes was gone. I thought you may be letting this affect you.' I said, 'Nope, I just forgot that God loves me for a minute but I am back on track.' We accomplished more today than in the month that I have been going there and in less time too. We both realized that.

I took the bus home and guess what another baby girl was gurgling and waving hello to me. As soon as I waved hello back and smiled, the baby started pulling away from her mom and towards me. I asked if I could hold her. All the way to my destination, this baby played with me.

As I was walking back home, I realized that these were things that I normally in the past took for granted. I thanked God for such a beautiful day. And from now on, upon waking, I will count my blessings.

Funny, since Friday, I have said to a few close friends that I feel lost. Then I explain further that I feel like Dorothy when she was whisked away by the tornado. I said the 'I feel lost' comment today. Everybody seems to understand with my personal and professional lives in a turmoil right now. But after stating this statement today I started thinking 'How can I lose myself?' It's not like I misplaced myself in the same manner as my phones, keys or remote. I know exactly where I am. Although, I handled my professsional life with professionalism and grace, I can't say I did the same for my personal life. I went to areas that I would never ever had gone through in the past. Now, I do know that although I express my professional and personal life as two completely entities that it is still the same person. But in my eyes, I see them as separate.

In my professional life, there's the question of where's my passion, what do I want to do, will I be unemployed for a while and if so, for how long and will I be able to support myself?

In my personal life, how long has he been lying to me, did he ever love, why did he act like he wanted me to be with him, was he really married all this time?

These questions as time goes by will get their appropriate answers. I have already unleashed them to the universe. As for my professional life, I can work with the universe for abundance. For the personal, time heals all things.

Today, I did things that normally I would never do. I, rarely if ever, lose who I am. And yet, today I did.

I am a person who would not confront unless confronted. And yet today, I was the one confronting. I was the one who kept harrassing the other person by continuing to call, even as I knew it was wrong.

Who was this crazed woman who did not just walk away? What have I become?

I must never forget who I am. The person that I am is not the person mentioned above and therefore, that behavior will stop as of now. I forgot to be still.

Update: I am still not keeping still. I am trying but I love this man. No, after finding this out, I NEVER want to be with him again. Truthfully, there are no questions left. Then why am I doing this? I have no idea. I need strength to resist the urge for justice and leave it in God's hands.

Definition: 1 : capable of being physically or emotionally wounded 2 : open to attack or damage : assailable 3 : liable to increased penalties but entitled to increased bonuses after winning a game in contract bridge

Today is the day that I am officially unemployed. While doing my normal Sunday activities, it did not dawn on me what today is. But I felt a bit off. I thought it was because of the pending question about the man I love and our subsequent phone call. But no, it's deeper than that. I feel vulnerable. I am not sure of my past, present or the future. I am so confused because I am, for the most part, a logical person and everything I am doing right now is illogical. I am hurt because I wonder why a person who said he loves me is showing he doesn't. I feel that everything I knew to be true does not seem to be so.

So what to do when I feel so open, so vulnerable? As soon as I wrote the title of this post, the words came into thought, Be still and know that I am God.

Therefore, my time has come to be still and let the fog dissipate with the knowledge of my faith.

What are instincts?

Some say it's your subconscious; others say it's God talking to you. Either way, everyone knows the saying 'Follow your instincts and you won't go wrong.' I believe instincts come from a situation or situations where your consciousness does not register what's wrong but your subconscious does. This post is about not following my instincts.

Last year early March, my instincts made me do another background check on someone. I found some divorces but also a marriage that at the time was about 2 years old. I confronted the individual on this fact, after that our 'relationship' went downhill which further confirmed my suspicions. Now, before I go further, let me explain that I am not someone who dates married or separated men. To me, even if the man has been separated for 10 years, he is still married and that means off limits. I was faced with the possibility that I had fallen in love with a married man. This was too difficult for me to handle. So what is an intelligent woman who is in love to do? Well, something not so intelligent, believe him when he says he is not married. The question nagged me for months and months afterwards. In some cases, he did seem single but in others his actions did reflect a man who was having a secret affair. Today, while looking for my former manager's address, I looked the questionable man up. Again, his 'ex-wife' who should not have anything to do with the address due to being married and divorced in another county, appeared along with this man. I confront him again and again he denies it and then goes on the defense. Now, you ask me, didn't you write that this relationship is over? Why are you continuing to do a search for him? Are you obsessed or psycho or something? The answer is yes, it is over but this would explain a lot on his actions, that really don't make a lot of sense. And no, I am not obsessed or psycho but if he is married, I would like to know that I was dimwitted and accomplice to the adultry.

Now, thinking back and hindsight being 20/20, I should have walked away from the situation. I should have followed my instincts.

Barack Obama speaks in Philadelphia, PA at Constitution Center, on matters not just of race and recent remarks but of the fundamental path by which America can work together to pursue a better future.

The text below was taking directly from barackobamadotcom.

As Prepared for Delivery...
“We the people, in order to form a more perfect union.” Two hundred and twenty one years ago, in a hall that still stands across the street, a group of men gathered and, with these simple words, launched America’s improbable experiment in democracy. Farmers and scholars; statesmen and patriots who had traveled across an ocean to escape tyranny and persecution finally made real their declaration of independence at a Philadelphia convention that lasted through the spring of 1787.

The document they produced was eventually signed but ultimately unfinished. It was stained by this nation’s original sin of slavery, a question that divided the colonies and brought the convention to a stalemate until the founders chose to allow the slave trade to continue for at least twenty more years, and to leave any final resolution to future generations.

Of course, the answer to the slavery question was already embedded within our Constitution – a Constitution that had at is very core the ideal of equal citizenship under the law; a Constitution that promised its people liberty, and justice, and a union that could be and should be perfected over time.

And yet words on a parchment would not be enough to deliver slaves from bondage, or provide men and women of every color and creed their full rights and obligations as citizens of the United States. What would be needed were Americans in successive generations who were willing to do their part – through protests and struggle, on the streets and in the courts, through a civil war and civil disobedience and always at great risk - to narrow that gap between the promise of our ideals and the reality of their time.

This was one of the tasks we set forth at the beginning of this campaign – to continue the long march of those who came before us, a march for a more just, more equal, more free, more caring and more prosperous America. I chose to run for the presidency at this moment in history because I believe deeply that we cannot solve the challenges of our time unless we solve them together – unless we perfect our union by understanding that we may have different stories, but we hold common hopes; that we may not look the same and we may not have come from the same place, but we all want to move in the same direction – towards a better future for of children and our grandchildren.

This belief comes from my unyielding faith in the decency and generosity of the American people. But it also comes from my own American story.

I am the son of a black man from Kenya and a white woman from Kansas. I was raised with the help of a white grandfather who survived a Depression to serve in Patton’s Army during World War II and a white grandmother who worked on a bomber assembly line at Fort Leavenworth while he was overseas. I’ve gone to some of the best schools in America and lived in one of the world’s poorest nations. I am married to a black American who carries within her the blood of slaves and slaveowners – an inheritance we pass on to our two precious daughters. I have brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, uncles and cousins, of every race and every hue, scattered across three continents, and for as long as I live, I will never forget that in no other country on Earth is my story even possible.

It’s a story that hasn’t made me the most conventional candidate. But it is a story that has seared into my genetic makeup the idea that this nation is more than the sum of its parts – that out of many, we are truly one.

Throughout the first year of this campaign, against all predictions to the contrary, we saw how hungry the American people were for this message of unity. Despite the temptation to view my candidacy through a purely racial lens, we won commanding victories in states with some of the whitest populations in the country. In South Carolina, where the Confederate Flag still flies, we built a powerful coalition of African Americans and white Americans.

This is not to say that race has not been an issue in the campaign. At various stages in the campaign, some commentators have deemed me either “too black” or “not black enough.” We saw racial tensions bubble to the surface during the week before the South Carolina primary. The press has scoured every exit poll for the latest evidence of racial polarization, not just in terms of white and black, but black and brown as well.

And yet, it has only been in the last couple of weeks that the discussion of race in this campaign has taken a particularly divisive turn.

On one end of the spectrum, we’ve heard the implication that my candidacy is somehow an exercise in affirmative action; that it’s based solely on the desire of wide-eyed liberals to purchase racial reconciliation on the cheap. On the other end, we’ve heard my former pastor, Reverend Jeremiah Wright, use incendiary language to express views that have the potential not only to widen the racial divide, but views that denigrate both the greatness and the goodness of our nation; that rightly offend white and black alike.

I have already condemned, in unequivocal terms, the statements of Reverend Wright that have caused such controversy. For some, nagging questions remain. Did I know him to be an occasionally fierce critic of American domestic and foreign policy? Of course. Did I ever hear him make remarks that could be considered controversial while I sat in church? Yes. Did I strongly disagree with many of his political views? Absolutely – just as I’m sure many of you have heard remarks from your pastors, priests, or rabbis with which you strongly disagreed.

But the remarks that have caused this recent firestorm weren’t simply controversial. They weren’t simply a religious leader’s effort to speak out against perceived injustice. Instead, they expressed a profoundly distorted view of this country – a view that sees white racism as endemic, and that elevates what is wrong with America above all that we know is right with America; a view that sees the conflicts in the Middle East as rooted primarily in the actions of stalwart allies like Israel, instead of emanating from the perverse and hateful ideologies of radical Islam.

As such, Reverend Wright’s comments were not only wrong but divisive, divisive at a time when we need unity; racially charged at a time when we need to come together to solve a set of monumental problems – two wars, a terrorist threat, a falling economy, a chronic health care crisis and potentially devastating climate change; problems that are neither black or white or Latino or Asian, but rather problems that confront us all.

Given my background, my politics, and my professed values and ideals, there will no doubt be those for whom my statements of condemnation are not enough. Why associate myself with Reverend Wright in the first place, they may ask? Why not join another church? And I confess that if all that I knew of Reverend Wright were the snippets of those sermons that have run in an endless loop on the television and You Tube, or if Trinity United Church of Christ conformed to the caricatures being peddled by some commentators, there is no doubt that I would react in much the same way

But the truth is, that isn’t all that I know of the man. The man I met more than twenty years ago is a man who helped introduce me to my Christian faith, a man who spoke to me about our obligations to love one another; to care for the sick and lift up the poor. He is a man who served his country as a U.S. Marine; who has studied and lectured at some of the finest universities and seminaries in the country, and who for over thirty years led a church that serves the community by doing God’s work here on Earth – by housing the homeless, ministering to the needy, providing day care services and scholarships and prison ministries, and reaching out to those suffering from HIV/AIDS.

In my first book, Dreams From My Father, I described the experience of my first service at Trinity:

“People began to shout, to rise from their seats and clap and cry out, a forceful wind carrying the reverend’s voice up into the rafters….And in that single note – hope! – I heard something else; at the foot of that cross, inside the thousands of churches across the city, I imagined the stories of ordinary black people merging with the stories of David and Goliath, Moses and Pharaoh, the Christians in the lion’s den, Ezekiel’s field of dry bones. Those stories – of survival, and freedom, and hope – became our story, my story; the blood that had spilled was our blood, the tears our tears; until this black church, on this bright day, seemed once more a vessel carrying the story of a people into future generations and into a larger world. Our trials and triumphs became at once unique and universal, black and more than black; in chronicling our journey, the stories and songs gave us a means to reclaim memories tha t we didn’t need to feel shame about…memories that all people might study and cherish – and with which we could start to rebuild.”

That has been my experience at Trinity. Like other predominantly black churches across the country, Trinity embodies the black community in its entirety – the doctor and the welfare mom, the model student and the former gang-banger. Like other black churches, Trinity’s services are full of raucous laughter and sometimes bawdy humor. They are full of dancing, clapping, screaming and shouting that may seem jarring to the untrained ear. The church contains in full the kindness and cruelty, the fierce intelligence and the shocking ignorance, the struggles and successes, the love and yes, the bitterness and bias that make up the black experience in America.

And this helps explain, perhaps, my relationship with Reverend Wright. As imperfect as he may be, he has been like family to me. He strengthened my faith, officiated my wedding, and baptized my children. Not once in my conversations with him have I heard him talk about any ethnic group in derogatory terms, or treat whites with whom he interacted with anything but courtesy and respect. He contains within him the contradictions – the good and the bad – of the community that he has served diligently for so many years.

I can no more disown him than I can disown the black community. I can no more disown him than I can my white grandmother – a woman who helped raise me, a woman who sacrificed again and again for me, a woman who loves me as much as she loves anything in this world, but a woman who once confessed her fear of black men who passed by her on the street, and who on more than one occasion has uttered racial or ethnic stereotypes that made me cringe.

These people are a part of me. And they are a part of America, this country that I love.

Some will see this as an attempt to justify or excuse comments that are simply inexcusable. I can assure you it is not. I suppose the politically safe thing would be to move on from this episode and just hope that it fades into the woodwork. We can dismiss Reverend Wright as a crank or a demagogue, just as some have dismissed Geraldine Ferraro, in the aftermath of her recent statements, as harboring some deep-seated racial bias.

But race is an issue that I believe this nation cannot afford to ignore right now. We would be making the same mistake that Reverend Wright made in his offending sermons about America – to simplify and stereotype and amplify the negative to the point that it distorts reality.

The fact is that the comments that have been made and the issues that have surfaced over the last few weeks reflect the complexities of race in this country that we’ve never really worked through – a part of our union that we have yet to perfect. And if we walk away now, if we simply retreat into our respective corners, we will never be able to come together and solve challenges like health care, or education, or the need to find good jobs for every American.

Understanding this reality requires a reminder of how we arrived at this point. As William Faulkner once wrote, “The past isn’t dead and buried. In fact, it isn’t even past.” We do not need to recite here the history of racial injustice in this country. But we do need to remind ourselves that so many of the disparities that exist in the African-American community today can be directly traced to inequalities passed on from an earlier generation that suffered under the brutal legacy of slavery and Jim Crow.

Segregated schools were, and are, inferior schools; we still haven’t fixed them, fifty years after Brown v. Board of Education, and the inferior education they provided, then and now, helps explain the pervasive achievement gap between today’s black and white students.

Legalized discrimination - where blacks were prevented, often through violence, from owning property, or loans were not granted to African-American business owners, or black homeowners could not access FHA mortgages, or blacks were excluded from unions, or the police force, or fire departments – meant that black families could not amass any meaningful wealth to bequeath to future generations. That history helps explain the wealth and income gap between black and white, and the concentrated pockets of poverty that persists in so many of today’s urban and rural communities.

A lack of economic opportunity among black men, and the shame and frustration that came from not being able to provide for one’s family, contributed to the erosion of black families – a problem that welfare policies for many years may have worsened. And the lack of basic services in so many urban black neighborhoods – parks for kids to play in, police walking the beat, regular garbage pick-up and building code enforcement – all helped create a cycle of violence, blight and neglect that continue to haunt us.

This is the reality in which Reverend Wright and other African-Americans of his generation grew up. They came of age in the late fifties and early sixties, a time when segregation was still the law of the land and opportunity was systematically constricted. What’s remarkable is not how many failed in the face of discrimination, but rather how many men and women overcame the odds; how many were able to make a way out of no way for those like me who would come after them.

But for all those who scratched and clawed their way to get a piece of the American Dream, there were many who didn’t make it – those who were ultimately defeated, in one way or another, by discrimination. That legacy of defeat was passed on to future generations – those young men and increasingly young women who we see standing on street corners or languishing in our prisons, without hope or prospects for the future. Even for those blacks who did make it, questions of race, and racism, continue to define their worldview in fundamental ways. For the men and women of Reverend Wright’s generation, the memories of humiliation and doubt and fear have not gone away; nor has the anger and the bitterness of those years. That anger may not get expressed in public, in front of white co-workers or white friends. But it does find voice in the barbershop or around the kitchen table. At times, that anger is exploited by politicia ns, to gin up votes along racial lines, or to make up for a politician’s own failings.

And occasionally it finds voice in the church on Sunday morning, in the pulpit and in the pews. The fact that so many people are surprised to hear that anger in some of Reverend Wright’s sermons simply reminds us of the old truism that the most segregated hour in American life occurs on Sunday morning. That anger is not always productive; indeed, all too often it distracts attention from solving real problems; it keeps us from squarely facing our own complicity in our condition, and prevents the African-American community from forging the alliances it needs to bring about real change. But the anger is real; it is powerful; and to simply wish it away, to condemn it without understanding its roots, only serves to widen the chasm of misunderstanding that exists between the races.

In fact, a similar anger exists within segments of the white community. Most working- and middle-class white Americans don’t feel that they have been particularly privileged by their race. Their experience is the immigrant experience – as far as they’re concerned, no one’s handed them anything, they’ve built it from scratch. They’ve worked hard all their lives, many times only to see their jobs shipped overseas or their pension dumped after a lifetime of labor. They are anxious about their futures, and feel their dreams slipping away; in an era of stagnant wages and global competition, opportunity comes to be seen as a zero sum game, in which your dreams come at my expense. So when they are told to bus their children to a school across town; when they hear that an African American is getting an advantage in landing a good job or a spot in a good college because of an injustice that they themselves never committ ed; when they’re told that their fears about crime in urban neighborhoods are somehow prejudiced, resentment builds over time.

Like the anger within the black community, these resentments aren’t always expressed in polite company. But they have helped shape the political landscape for at least a generation. Anger over welfare and affirmative action helped forge the Reagan Coalition. Politicians routinely exploited fears of crime for their own electoral ends. Talk show hosts and conservative commentators built entire careers unmasking bogus claims of racism while dismissing legitimate discussions of racial injustice and inequality as mere political correctness or reverse racism.

Just as black anger often proved counterproductive, so have these white resentments distracted attention from the real culprits of the middle class squeeze – a corporate culture rife with inside dealing, questionable accounting practices, and short-term greed; a Washington dominated by lobbyists and special interests; economic policies that favor the few over the many. And yet, to wish away the resentments of white Americans, to label them as misguided or even racist, without recognizing they are grounded in legitimate concerns – this too widens the racial divide, and blocks the path to understanding.

This is where we are right now. It’s a racial stalemate we’ve been stuck in for years. Contrary to the claims of some of my critics, black and white, I have never been so naïve as to believe that we can get beyond our racial divisions in a single election cycle, or with a single candidacy – particularly a candidacy as imperfect as my own.

But I have asserted a firm conviction – a conviction rooted in my faith in God and my faith in the American people – that working together we can move beyond some of our old racial wounds, and that in fact we have no choice is we are to continue on the path of a more perfect union.

For the African-American community, that path means embracing the burdens of our past without becoming victims of our past. It means continuing to insist on a full measure of justice in every aspect of American life. But it also means binding our particular grievances – for better health care, and better schools, and better jobs - to the larger aspirations of all Americans -- the white woman struggling to break the glass ceiling, the white man whose been laid off, the immigrant trying to feed his family. And it means taking full responsibility for own lives – by demanding more from our fathers, and spending more time with our children, and reading to them, and teaching them that while they may face challenges and discrimination in their own lives, they must never succumb to despair or cynicism; they must always believe that they can write their own destiny.

Ironically, this quintessentially American – and yes, conservative – notion of self-help found frequent expression in Reverend Wright’s sermons. But what my former pastor too often failed to understand is that embarking on a program of self-help also requires a belief that society can change.

The profound mistake of Reverend Wright’s sermons is not that he spoke about racism in our society. It’s that he spoke as if our society was static; as if no progress has been made; as if this country – a country that has made it possible for one of his own members to run for the highest office in the land and build a coalition of white and black; Latino and Asian, rich and poor, young and old -- is still irrevocably bound to a tragic past. But what we know -- what we have seen – is that America can change. That is true genius of this nation. What we have already achieved gives us hope – the audacity to hope – for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.

In the white community, the path to a more perfect union means acknowledging that what ails the African-American community does not just exist in the minds of black people; that the legacy of discrimination - and current incidents of discrimination, while less overt than in the past - are real and must be addressed. Not just with words, but with deeds – by investing in our schools and our communities; by enforcing our civil rights laws and ensuring fairness in our criminal justice system; by providing this generation with ladders of opportunity that were unavailable for previous generations. It requires all Americans to realize that your dreams do not have to come at the expense of my dreams; that investing in the health, welfare, and education of black and brown and white children will ultimately help all of America prosper.

In the end, then, what is called for is nothing more, and nothing less, than what all the world’s great religions demand – that we do unto others as we would have them do unto us. Let us be our brother’s keeper, Scripture tells us. Let us be our sister’s keeper. Let us find that common stake we all have in one another, and let our politics reflect that spirit as well.

For we have a choice in this country. We can accept a politics that breeds division, and conflict, and cynicism. We can tackle race only as spectacle – as we did in the OJ trial – or in the wake of tragedy, as we did in the aftermath of Katrina - or as fodder for the nightly news. We can play Reverend Wright’s sermons on every channel, every day and talk about them from now until the election, and make the only question in this campaign whether or not the American people think that I somehow believe or sympathize with his most offensive words. We can pounce on some gaffe by a Hillary supporter as evidence that she’s playing the race card, or we can speculate on whether white men will all flock to John McCain in the general election regardless of his policies.

We can do that.

But if we do, I can tell you that in the next election, we’ll be talking about some other distraction. And then another one. And then another one. And nothing will change.

That is one option. Or, at this moment, in this election, we can come together and say, “Not this time.” This time we want to talk about the crumbling schools that are stealing the future of black children and white children and Asian children and Hispanic children and Native American children. This time we want to reject the cynicism that tells us that these kids can’t learn; that those kids who don’t look like us are somebody else’s problem. The children of America are not those kids, they are our kids, and we will not let them fall behind in a 21st century economy. Not this time.

This time we want to talk about how the lines in the Emergency Room are filled with whites and blacks and Hispanics who do not have health care; who don’t have the power on their own to overcome the special interests in Washington, but who can take them on if we do it together. This time we want to talk about the shuttered mills that once provided a decent life for men and women of every race, and the homes for sale that once belonged to Americans from every religion, every region, every walk of life. This time we want to talk about the fact that the real problem is not that someone who doesn’t look like you might take your job; it’s that the corporation you work for will ship it overseas for nothing more than a profit. This time we want to talk about the men and women of every color and creed who serve together, and fight together, and bleed together under the same proud flag. We want to talk about how to bring them home from a war that never should’ve been authorized and never should’ve been waged, and we want to talk about how we’ll show our patriotism by caring for them, and their families, and giving them the benefits they have earned.

I would not be running for President if I didn’t believe with all my heart that this is what the vast majority of Americans want for this country. This union may never be perfect, but generation after generation has shown that it can always be perfected. And today, whenever I find myself feeling doubtful or cynical about this possibility, what gives me the most hope is the next generation – the young people whose attitudes and beliefs and openness to change have already made history in this election.

There is one story in particularly that I’d like to leave you with today – a story I told when I had the great honor of speaking on Dr. King’s birthday at his home church, Ebenezer Baptist, in Atlanta.

There is a young, twenty-three year old white woman named Ashley Baia who organized for our campaign in Florence, South Carolina. She had been working to organize a mostly African-American community since the beginning of this campaign, and one day she was at a roundtable discussion where everyone went around telling their story and why they were there.

And Ashley said that when she was nine years old, her mother got cancer. And because she had to miss days of work, she was let go and lost her health care. They had to file for bankruptcy, and that’s when Ashley decided that she had to do something to help her mom.

She knew that food was one of their most expensive costs, and so Ashley convinced her mother that what she really liked and really wanted to eat more than anything else was mustard and relish sandwiches. Because that was the cheapest way to eat.

She did this for a year until her mom got better, and she told everyone at the roundtable that the reason she joined our campaign was so that she could help the millions of other children in the country who want and need to help their parents too.

Now Ashley might have made a different choice. Perhaps somebody told her along the way that the source of her mother’s problems were blacks who were on welfare and too lazy to work, or Hispanics who were coming into the country illegally. But she didn’t. She sought out allies in her fight against injustice.

Anyway, Ashley finishes her story and then goes around the room and asks everyone else why they’re supporting the campaign. They all have different stories and reasons. Many bring up a specific issue. And finally they come to this elderly black man who’s been sitting there quietly the entire time. And Ashley asks him why he’s there. And he does not bring up a specific issue. He does not say health care or the economy. He does not say education or the war. He does not say that he was there because of Barack Obama. He simply says to everyone in the room, “I am here because of Ashley.”

“I’m here because of Ashley.” By itself, that single moment of recognition between that young white girl and that old black man is not enough. It is not enough to give health care to the sick, or jobs to the jobless, or education to our children.

But it is where we start. It is where our union grows stronger. And as so many generations have come to realize over the course of the two-hundred and twenty one years since a band of patriots signed that document in Philadelphia, that is where the perfection begins.

Wow, today I am 41 years old! Just yesterday, I was 16 years old, really I was...LOL





Here's my take at being 41 versus when I was 16 and older, and yes I am one of those lists and quotes people so bear with me after all it is my birthday. :) These are just random thoughts and are not in any order of importance.

• I am much wiser but not always smarter than when I was 16.
• I still believe in the common good of people.
• I have learned what the words "love", "patience" and "compassion" really mean.
• I no longer think the world revolves around me.
• I believe there is a time and place for everything.
• I am less active than when I was 16 years old and it shows :)
• I no longer care about my reputation more than I do about my character.
• Having self-worth, a confidence of who I am and belief I can do anything I set my eyes and mind to is the same today as it was when I was 16. Although I really do know who I am today.
• At 16, I had a written journal. Today, I have a digital one.
• My singing still sounds like a tortured cat but I continue to sing out loud no matter where I am to Chaka Khan, Culture Club and Stephanie Mills songs.
• As I was when I was 16, I love being at home more than "running the streets."
• I have greying temples and don't care.
• In 14 days, I will be laid off for the first time in my life. At 16, I never knew what having a career or a job was like.
• My best friend at 16 is still my best friend today.
• I still live in NYC but no longer think "Why would people want to live any place else?"
• I have friends that have been my friends for 2 and 3 decades.
• I have lived in 4 different states and 1 common wealth.
• I still believe in love and the "one".
• I have been in love twice in my life.
• I know what it means to have your heart broken.
• At 16, I had an IBM laptop that I had to use a disk to boot up. Today, I have a Dell laptop that boots up automatically.
• I no longer consider myself a religious person but a spiritual one.
• I still go to a church on Sundays just not a Roman Catholic one.
• I have been a member of several religions - Catholic, Jehovah Witness, Buddhism, and Hinduism.
• My belief in GOD perseveres.
• People still think I am much younger than what I am and look shock when I say my age.
• Younger men now call me ma'am instead of baby.
• I continue to say "Puerto Rico and New York", when people ask me where am I from.
• I no longer desire to live in Puerto Rico. At 16, I wanted to move back to Puerto Rico.
• I still prefer to live in a warmer climate.
• My curiosity of other cultures, food and way of life remains.
• At 16, I was Puerto Rican not a Black woman. Today, I am a Black woman. My culture is Puerto Rican.
• I can no longer write in Spanish but I can still read it.
• I know how it feels to have sex.
• I see my "girls" once a month as opposed to getting together every weekend.
• I still love to eat sunflower seeds with milk (yuck!...I know that's what you are thinking.)
• I now see my parents as human beings more than invincible mini-gods.
• At 16, I was a volunteer at GMHC. At 41, I am a volunteer at GMHC and 3 other places as well.
• Today, a 30 year old is young. At 16, a 30 year old was old.

After taking a look at this very short list since I can still write more but am sparing my readers, I just realized one thing... I am still me and I love myself at any age.

The New York Times has broken a story about New York Governor Eliot Spitzer being tied to a prostititution ring. This man was known for battling against such rings. Here's the NY Times story: http://tinyurl.com/2qsdms.

Honestly, I don't care about Eliot Spitzer, never did. What I am more interested in is if the first African American to be the Lieutant Governor of New York will end up finishing Spitzer's term should he resign? Becoming the first African American to be Governor of NY, even if it is just as acting governor.

Read more about David A Paterson here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Paterson. The official site, ny.gov site is down at the moment of this post.



UPDATE David A Paterson will become the first African-American governor of New York on Monday, March 17, 2008.

I rarely look at my horoscope; I just outgrew the whole zodiac sign/horoscope thing by the time I hit 25. But today, I saw my Yahoo! Horoscope button and decided to click it and see what was written.

The road you're on may be covered in fog, but you're heading in the right direction.

Interesting....

So being a bit intoxicated today, I decided to share a few secrets. This post may or may not survive. You have been warned.

The truth is that I am tired of the rat race. I have been tired since 2000. Somehow my priorities changed. Being successful in Corporate America no longer appealed to me. I was very successful in the financial company I was working at in 2000. But I decided that I no longer wanted to manage the 40 people I was responsibile for nor did I want to become SVP. I was a VP at the time and my manager had told me a month before I quit that I was being promoted to SVP. What did I do? I left to become an underpaid consultant in my old company. I was a consultant for 5 years there. Underpaid and overworked. When I was hired, my salary was increased to almost 20% of the current salary. I decided to move to another group after considering heavily that I will finally happy. The truth is...I changed. I don't know when it happened but no longer did money or status appeal to me. I got older and friends and family became more important. I kept telling myself that I was just burnt out. The truth is my priorities just changed. I starting viewing Corporate America success as a deal with the devil. I continued to pump myself up but I couldn't. I kept this a secret from friends and family. After all, isn't the goal to achieve the American dream?

So next week I will turn 41. And after thinking deeply on the subject, the truth is I just want two rugrats, an old fashion home and a Volkswagon Bettle. So much for the American dream. Everyone I know expects me to bounce back from this pending layoff and land on my feet. The truth is I no longer want to work but need money in order to live. I really don't know what I want to do.

Am I going through a mid-life crisis?

Update: Someone read this post and wrote a post about it in their website: http://in-spiros.com/artofallowingmindset/?p=18. Check it out.

It seems that lately, I am doing too much. It's funny, last year I felt I had all this time on my hands. This year it is the complete opposite. Besides trying to finish getting a college degree and all that is involved with that, I am also working, documenting my work for the job transition, meeting with my career counselor, volunteering time in the hospital, helping my cousin pack her home since she is moving to VA, networking, meeting with friends and family, updating this blog and Twitter, bible studying, in a women's support group and managed to join 2 book clubs. On top of all of this making time for my boyfriend since we decided that our relationship is worth working out if we communicate more. All of this is being handled by my trusty PDA phone. Originally, the calender reflected my work calendar. Since my notice of job elimination (which is not since someone is replacing me), I have changed it to my personal calendar and boy, good thing I did. My personal calendar has several appointments and to do's daily. I don't know how I can do it all. Thank goodness for my phone. I update both this blog and Twitter via my mobile's web or text messaging.

Of the two book clubs I am in, one of them is suffering from my busy schedule. The book is titled Yurugu by Dr. Marimba Ani. So I have decided that I am going to drop the other book club for this one. The Yurugu book study takes place in PalTalk in a chat room titled 'The Ankobia in America.' A very powerful, thought provoking, opinion sharing, growth expansing chat room in PalTalk that I have had the privilege to attend. Unfortunately, I just log on to PalTalk now and I am rarely there. So starting this week, I am changing that and my trusty PDA will track it all.

I just love my phone and have no plans to replace it even though its 2 1/2 years old.

Today, I worked from home like I usually do. The person who has filled the position that will be evacated by me the last week of March has managed to upset 3 global regions - EMEA (London), Asia (Hong Kong) and U.S. (me). He is rude and is acting like he is our manager, so you know that is not sitting well. Well he has managed to piss me off for the second time. I decided not to stew about this because hey this is only temporary. I started to smile instead of getting more angry. Not only that today was the day that I was going downtown to get my resume done professionally by my company's outsourcing group.

Staying positive helps. The person who is my counselor is a firm believer of positive attitude and sending this energy to the Universe. This is awesome because I am the same way. My resume is still being worked on but then it does span almost 20 years of experience and 5 pages long. But I like the fact that we are on the same page.

So here's to positivity and a new job with my new professionally done calling card (resume)!

Now this may seem like a rant post. I am going to do my best not to make it one but the following has been getting on my nerves lately.

I have been experiencing this both in my online community and offline. I recently became aware that my love relationship was over. The reason I write it that way is because I wanted to continue the relationship and have it move forward; the other person did not deemed our relationship worth continuing. Therefore, he was aware of the end way before he told me. Anyway, men have been approaching me asking me whether the relationship is still intact or whether I am still in one. I, for the most part, am an honest person. So I answer "No." Now comes the part that is really getting on my nerves. The next thing out of the man's mouth is usually how stupid that man was, how they can do better, and how about a date or even better, how about some sex (???!!!???).

Now, my answer was pretty simple. I do not comment on how or why he broke up with me. I just said "No; and I don't want to talk about it." So the question is, what makes him stupid? Whatever happened to I am not a fit for him no matter what and how I feel about him. He has the right to say "This person is not for me." I have done it and others have done it too. It really does not matter that the other person in the relationship wants to continue; the relationship requires two people and one of them has rejected the relationship. Also, what makes you think that just because you have been flirting with me that I want you? Chances are, the flirting, was one-sided - yours. I am in love with a man in a state far away from me. All my thoughts and eyes only dealt with him. You were probably someone I was being polite to but not interested in any way. Asking me out on a date or even saying you are willing to take care of me sexually, boggles my mind. I have not asked you for anything. I have never shown interest in you in any kind of way. And coming to me on the sexual tip puts three bold red XXXs on your forehead. An "X" is my reject mark. Three means there is no way in hell I will ever be attracted to you. Also since my awareness of the end of the relationship happened in late January, what makes you think I want to be in another relationship right now? All of them were told that 'Mr. Right' found me. Even if he made himself 'Mr. Wrong', what makes you think that you are 'Mr. Right'? Because right now in my eyes, your approach is all so wrong. It almost seems to me that men think I have this little pink book where their names and numbers are stored. At the end of any relationship, I flip through it saying "Next." I remember men actually telling me "Well, if it does not work out, I'll date you or want you?" What makes you think that I would choose you? I know you are there and yet I show no signs of wanting to be with you ever. What makes you think that has changed?

Right now I am not in the I-hate-men club. I like men and don't have any plans ever on becoming a lesbian. It's just not in the cards for me. But I do want 'me' time. I have tons of things to do and don't want a relationship with a man unless it is a friendship - nothing more nor nothing less.

So rest assure, the pink book, although it does exist, is not being used. And the word 'Next' is being used only to check off the things that I need to accomplished which does not include you.

PS: I really do own the address book pictured. :)

For the last few weeks, I have been reflecting about the past year and the month of January of this year. It is amazing to me that my personal and professional lives both called it quits in January of 2008. As I was reflecting, I realized that I had moved from a positive path to a more negative path in 2007. This became more obvious when a friend called me and interrupted my thoughts. She called to tell her drama and spew negativity about men. As I listened, I realized that I, a generally positive person, have surrounded myself with negativity. What amused me as I half listened to her and listened more to my own thoughts is that negativity overpowered the positive in 2007 and January,2008. I know that positivity is more powerful than negativity but when it is completely surrounded by negativity, the light will dim a bit.

Today, I experienced someone's negativity trying to rain on my parade. Instead, I calmly said what I had to say and ended it with word "peace". I put on some tunes that always get my butt to jump around with joy and left the negativity aside. Positivity won this time. And at that moment I realized, it is up to me to be diligent on which path I chose to live.

My Chosen Path....Positivity

For those who know me, you know how I feel about my IPod. I still mourn the lost of my red Nano - the series before this new one which I don't like. I now have a ITouch. I know that Ipods are not the best when it comes to MP3 players; there are better ones out there. But I just love my IPods. And now, Apple has merged one of my favorite products with one of my favorite songs. I just love this commercial.

Wow, January came in with many twists and turns.

First, my mom went into the hospital for her second catherization in the first week of January. During this minor surgery, she had a heart attack. She was in the ICU for two week with a total hospital stay of 3 weeks. So I began to think well my mom is fine so life will go back to normal. But the last week of January was not to be outdone.

The breakdown of the last week of January:

Monday, Jan. 28 - Wednesday, Jan. 30
I can't really write about this. But I am extremely devastated about the situation.

Thursday, Jan. 31
I go into the office for a meeting with my senior management. Nothing new. During the meeting, I was handed a manilla folder with a notice that within 60 days, I was no longer an employee. I have been laid off. My company is trying to move non-essential employees out of the NY/NJ area. My group has been affected. If I want to keep my job I would have to move to either Chicago (too cold) or Ohio (too boring and cold). No relocation expenses and I would have to re-apply for my job. I must admit that I am fortunate to have people that care for me. My senior manager had gotten teary-eyed while talking to me. I felt so bad for him. My manager who I have never met but is such a great manager and who I totally adore, was there for me as well. Even my first manager to that group reached out to me. I completely appreciate them for that. I have to admit I knew and comprehended what was happening. I knew this was a business decision and not a performance issue;I wasn't the only one to get laid off. I am not angry nor resentful. I just thought boy, I need to make sure everything is documented and ready for the new person and went back to work.

So with that, all I have to say is:

Whew, thank goodness January is finally over! :)