« March 2006 | Main | November 2006 »
October 31, 2006
tag #oqk 853
you are not as cool as you think you are. if you were, you would know that you don't hang a scented cardboard tree on your rear-view mirror, especially one that matches the color of your car...some rides can rock the scented-tree look, but you don't drive such a ride...
and what makes you think that it is all-right for you to pull your car over just anywhere you please and block traffic?
and just who do you think you are, driving in a reckless manner in a hospital zone?
i don't like you, tag #oqk 853. you get on my damn nerves.
nuff said...
Posted by emnorris at 12:11 AM | Comments (0)
October 28, 2006
tag...i'm it
now i have to share five things folks may not know about me...
1. i have an older sister who passed away. her name is elrica marie, and she's buried in the national cemetery in chattanooga, tn. we share the same middle name, and our first names aren't that far apart. when i moved to chattanooga, my mom said: "now you're sister doesn't have to be alone."
2. i love long road trips. i don't mind syr to orl...love playing dj and cutting the music up...by the time i've arrived at my destination, my voice is gone.
3. i wanted to be a marine biologist...found another career path but my love for the ocean remains...
4. i'm shy...very awkward in social settings...have a hard time meeting new people. i just never know what to say.
5. i'm afraid of the dark. i still sleep with a light on...i hate a dark house.
now i'm tagging...
http://jenwingard.wordpress.com/
http://www.mywordsarebetter.blogspot.com/
http://krawson.livejournal.com/
three is all i got.
poem of the day
(i don't know if it's really a poem, but it is the result of a writing exercise.)
no title
me
gray streets cuts thru the hills and create a labyrinth
if you aren’t careful, you could easily get lost on the gray streets
among the gray headstones
evergreen grass on the hills is always well manicured
plastic flowers are gaudy at plot #34
understated at plot #890
and missing from plot #72
every time I visit, the wind is blowing
only enough to rustle trees
but not enough to mess up my hair
they know: messy hair makes me uncomfortable
the black rod iron fence, although slotted
seems to do well to keep sound out
broad street the entrance
market street to the left
cars zooming, only stopping at the light
i’ve been stopped at that light
at the intersection of market and broad
but very rarely look left
I only see the cemetery when I’m looking for it
And the cars that drive thru
On the gray streets that cut thru the hills
Are quiet, too
Muffled tires seems respectful of the dead
Or it could be that I’m thinking about Elrica
Thinking about my mother, a young filipina woman who lost her first child
And was too far from San Fernando to get any comfort from her mother, my lola
Thinking about my father, a big black man who had married this young filipina woman and took her away from tart mangoes and santol and monsoons
Who brought her to Chattanooga, Tennessee
Where nobody is welcomed
brown, black, or white
and asked her to bury her first there
I always have to look for Elrica
I can tell the difference in the curve of the hill
Can chart the placement of the other headstones
and recognize the tall oak that shadows it all
I can never decide:
gerber daisies or the floral assortment on sale at Bi-Lo
Elrica Marie Norris
18 months
The National Cemetery
Chattanooga, Tennessee
In the old south
Where time passed over
In a large cemetery
Where time waits
For more plastic flowers
And crocodile tears
Posted by emnorris at 12:44 AM | Comments (0)
October 24, 2006
do straight people have personal lives?
i was watching l&o: criminal intent and the case involved a bisexual woman...det eames says to a potential witness: "i know that you want to keep your personal life private, but we need your help..."
...only queer people have personal lives, i guess.
is it personal because folks don't want to hear about it so keep it to yourself, thank you very much? is it personal because it makes folks uncomfortable? is it personal because to be non-personal would make us vulnerable?
remember when marv albert was busted for beating up that woman, forcing her to perform oral sex, and biting her on the back? it seems to me that that was his personal life...but not really because we heard all about it...read about it in the papers and saw it on the news. his straight personal life and its exposure has a different kind of currency because it was that kind of personal that's embarassing versus the kind of personal that's repulsive like the woman who may have been a potential witness on l&o: criminal intent.
where's the line? public/private...if we continue with the idea that queer lives should be personal lives, we can continue to make queer lives invisible. queer health care, queer housing rights, and queer propery rights will remain personal = private = invisible.
for my part, i'm going to have some personal ice cream in my personal apartment and watch my personal television and enjoy my personal.
quote of the day
"But you cannot draw the line on freedom, you cannot draw the line on equality. And if I am not free and if I am not equally entitled to love and desire both men and women, in other words,
if I am not free and if I am not entitled equal to heterosexuals and homosexuals
then
homosexual men and women have joined with the dominant heterosexual culture in the tyrannical
pursuit of E Pluribus Unum
and I
a bisexual woman committed to cultural pluralism and,
therefore to sexual pluralism, can only
say, you better watch your back!"
June Jordan, "On Bisexuality and Cultural Pluralism"
Posted by emnorris at 10:39 PM | Comments (0)
October 23, 2006
"i have patience. i have patience forever."
bush's stance regarding the pressure to bring home troops...heard him say this on the radio...what does that mean, gw? bet he doesn't know...
i was going to talk about the war, but we all know that story...more soldiers died, more iraqi citizens died, more death, more death, more death...
i have a hard time believing that he believes that we're doing the right thing. he isn't that stupid, right? actually, yes he is...
how long is forever? as long as it takes a father to gather up the scattered pieces of his daughter...as long as it takes electric current to reach a lamp in a child's bedroom...as long as it takes to purify water...
i have tried to figure out what it is about this man that sends me...fine, i don't agree with a lot of stuff that he says: that's a given. he claims that the economy is growing, but he doesn't see the people i see on my way to school. he promises aid to the folks in no-la, but i have heard stories that there are still folks displaced. he is dishonest, shady, and dishonest. and dishonest. one more time: dishonest.
i have to deal with people with whom i disagree on the regular--nature of the field, i guess. but when he talks, when i hear his voice, i hear such a tone of privilege and entitlement. he really talks like he owns the world. when responding to questions, he answers as though "now you know better than to ask me that question. i done told you..." next time you have the chance to hear him, listen to his delivery. bet he pisses you off, too.
but the conference was great. angela said that during these times, it is easy to become depressed; however, we can't stay depressed. we have work to do. so, all the energy i waste being pissed a gw needs to be re-directed.
quote of the day
"Difference that doesn't make a difference is dangerous."
Angela Davis, Feminism and War Conference, 20 Oct 2006
Posted by emnorris at 09:51 PM | Comments (0)
October 18, 2006
the well-being of humankind
the women's studies dept @ su is sponsoring a "feminism and war" conference. can't wait. angela davis will be speaking. let me say that again: angela davis will be speaking.
i went to the gym today and saw the same women that i blogged about a few days ago. of course that got me to thinking about the same stuff i generally thinking about when i'm working out--body image, the gaze, self-acceptance, etc. here lately, my gym visits haven't been very satisfying. i think i've hit that work-out plateau because nothing seems to work. but who knows? i also have a warped body image so it is very difficult for me to see past me. as i transitioned from legs to arms (i hate doing arms...), i started thinking about--of all things--theory. i spend a lot of time talking with other folks about theory, theory making, theory doing, theory something else. theory, theory, theory...
what does theory mean to the lives of people not in the academy? like what does the theory of intersectionality mean to the woman i see in the gym all the time? or what do theories about language and power mean to people who are forced to send their children to sub-standard public schools? what does critical race theory mean for every raced body? what does queer theory mean for not queer people who can get married or adopt or live/love without fear?
whatever i do in this field, i don't want my thinking, theorizing, and teaching to remain on the campus. this "feminism and war" conference seems to be trying to do that type of work. it seems to me that that's what we should all aim for...we need to tear the ivory tower down...angela says that "politics do not stand in polar opposition to our lives. whether we desire it or not, they permeate our existence, insinuating themselves into the most private spaces of our lives." i say that we should expect, in fact demand, that of theory.
poem of the day
"bus stop blues"
me
There is enough light in a gray sky
To dilate pupils
Brown irises adjust and focus
On a bus schedule
She calculates the minutes she’ll have for her poetry
When conversations about
Minutes left on her cell phone
Are no longer the difference between the minutes until the strip is pink
And the minutes until the bank opens
Are shorter than the minutes until her name is called
But are not as long as those minutes spent waiting for blood-test results
In contrast to the too-short minutes between the first slap and the second punch
She waits for the 45th second and wishes for the 55th because that’ll mean
Less minutes at the bus stop
At the intersection of West Genny and Salina
Fiberglass menageries with contents on display
The cases sit on all compass points—north and south; east and west
Allowing suburb dwellers and city escapees to view and pity
And be thankful that the buses don’t run that far down Salina
Bus 42 lumbers past
Discarded Dunkin Donut cups and finished newspapers dance in the bus’s wake
Her bags rustle and the plastic touches her left calf
Thick and strong from walking to and from the bus stop
Sinewy muscles are covered by dry, cracked skin exposed to lake-effect winters
She stopped spending $4 a tube for cocoa butter long ago
Because it does nothing to stop her nails from turning Clorox yellow
And did not mask the smell of Pine-sol
It can, claims the fair-skinned lady on the box, even out skin tone
But nobody cares about that at the bus stop
Nobody looks down at flesh peeking out of a black skirt framing a white apron
She decided to save the $4 and schedule a manicure
The sky looks like a sheet of butcher paper
Stretched across the meat counter
Wax coating lets animal blood
Gather in perfect droplets
Polka dots on a slick surface
She hurries home to cook the strip steak that she bought on sale
And dream of her poetry while minute rice steams
Posted by emnorris at 10:11 PM | Comments (0)
October 17, 2006
[e] soundtrack
advice from i'm gonna git you sucka...
"every hero should have a theme song."
i passed the written portion of my comps. of course, i'm hyped. next is the oral defense, and i'm hoping that'll be gravy. and now i'm thinking about my theme songs. those songs that play in my head when i'm feeling good and looking good.
the internal soundtrack changes according to context and circumstance, mood and moment. however, there are some songs that stay cued up and ready to play.
right now, as i'm enjoying the afterglow of the written exams, i'm feeling a little bit of erykah, a taste of j-i-l-l-s-c-o-t-t, and a sprinkle of ms. india.arie.
listen, learn, share.
quote of the day
"I'm all-right wit me."
Erykah Badu, "Cleva"
Posted by emnorris at 11:59 PM | Comments (0)
mess
Pat Robertson, in response to the Foley scandal, said: “Well, this man’s gay. He does what gay people do.”
Gay people are not inherently pedophiles, stupid.
Are all white, straight, middle/upper class, conservative, fundamentalist males _______________________________ (you fill in the blank…it’s too easy for me.)?
Gay people are not inherently pedophiles, ass.
As the Foley camp attempts to salvage what little bit of the man’s political career remains, I can’t help but chuckle at the lunacy of it all. Do these people really think that we’re buying this mess? First, he was checked into a rehab center for his alcoholism. Then, he was battling depression. Come to find out he was molested as a child. And I’m not claiming that he isn’t an alcoholic or doesn’t suffer from depression or is not the victim of molestation. While I do delight in the difficulties that the GOP is facing as national and local elections approach, I’m not so cruel that I would wish misery on anyone. I was raised better than that. And it seems to me that any time you build your political platform on moral values and assert yourself as the nation’s moral center, you’re asking for it. In other words, don’t act like your shit don’t stink. Now, the hinges on Foley’s closet door squeak as revelations about cover-ups are coming to light. Apparently, it wasn’t a secret that Foley is gay, and several of his gay staffers worked hard at concealing this. I guess they know better than most how to make “don’t ask, don’t tell” work. In the clubs where the dancing queens reign, the pretty boys sparkle under the lights of the disco ball, and the butches beguile, we say: “Tell some, keep some, baby.” Not in Foley's case, though. We should tell it all so that those congressional pages are safe.
quote of the day
Conversations with James Baldwin
James Baldwin
"The sexual question and the racial question have always been entwined, you know. If Americans can mature on the level of racism, then they have to mature on the level of sexuality."
Posted by emnorris at 03:18 AM | Comments (0)
October 15, 2006
the beach
every time i see the beach, it's like the first time. i have tried and tried to put into words what i see, but the words fail. rather, i fail at making the words see.
it has been a good visit home. this afternoon, i had a taste of sunshine, and it filled my soul. on my way out of syr, i learned that i had passed my black fem theory exam, so that made the trip home even sweeter. i'm still waiting on news from the other two.
why the beach? because it never ends. didn't someone say that the sea has no memory? i haven't decided whether or not i agree with that claim.
memory is so fickle. there are times when i return to satellite beach and remember not being too happy. divorce and puberty was a troublesome combination. but when i go back, those memories don't belong to me. instead, i am thankful to be close to water again.
quote of the day
"Never pass a bait shop."
Big John
Posted by emnorris at 07:36 AM | Comments (0)
October 11, 2006
i'm waiting for my apology
...from william bennett...
according to his logic, since he claims that if we abort black babies, then the crime rate would go down. well then, if we abort all white, male babies, the incidents of white collar crime would decrease. right? that means that we wouldn't have to worry about another ken lay coming along and robbing folks of their pensions. and i am not trying to speak ill of the dead (i was raised better than that) but still...
i would like to spend some time with bennett. i tried to find his blog or some kind of way to share my comments with him. but whatever...what difference does it make? i imagine that talking to a william bennett is like screaming in the wind. your words are just blown back in your face--they sting your eyes and pinch your lips. i guess what really trips me up is that as a nation, we didn't demand he apologize for that mess that spewed from his mouth. what he said wasn't only offensive to black folks...sanction him, fire him, fine him, or something. but don't do nothing.
i'm so over william bennett and his crew. here's one black baby he should be watching out for...i don't forget shit.
poem of the day
"for the record: in memory of Eleanor Bumpers"
Audre Lorde
Call out the colored girls
and the ones who call themselves Black
and the ones who hate the word nigger
and the ones who are very pale
Who will count the big fleshy women
the grandmother weighing 22 stone
with the rusty braids
and a gap-toothed scowl
who wasn't afraid of Armageddon
the first shotgun blast tore her right arm off
the one with the butcher knife
the second blew out her heart
through the back of her chest
and I am going to keep writing it down
how they carried her body out of the house
dress torn up around her waist
uncovered
past tenants and the neighborhood children
a mountain of a Black Woman
and I am going to keep telling this
if it kills me
and it might in ways I am
learning
The next day Indira Gandhi
was shot down in her garden
and I wonder what these two 67-year-old
colored girls
are saying to each other now
planning their return
and they weren't even
sisters.
Posted by emnorris at 04:44 PM | Comments (0)
October 10, 2006
the gym
i haven't been to the gym since the start of my exams. gave myself a break from the routine. now i'm paying for it...went to the gym today, and it kicked my tail.
as i was working out, i noticed another woman on the tread-mill. she was in her groove...working hard and sweating up a storm. she was a petite woman with large breasts...i mean size dd's on a size 6 frame. of course, i was trying not to be obvious, but i couldn't help but look at her. and then i noticed her lips...plumped with collagen.
back in the day, i would have been the number one hater. i would have taken one look at her small frame and flat abs and rolled my eyes. but this gym thing has helped me put things into perspective. i'm doing much better with me and my body and the space i take up in the world. no doubt, i have my bad days when i become fixated on my stomach or my arms or my chin. thankfully, those days are happening in much less frequency, but they still make their appearances (especially when i get stressed out like during exams). i used to think that only big girls felt the pressure of unreal expectations placed on us by a standard of beauty that is practically impossible to achieve. ok. let me give some props. certainly, the media and various advertising outlets are trying to do better by using more models of color. and, in some instances, models with curves. thank goodness for that. but taking barbie down is quite a task, and we've got lots more work to do. and the bratz dolls are not the answer. anyway...
so the lady at the gym moves from the tread-mill to the eliptical to the right of me. i wondered if she felt the same pressure that i did. it seems to me that she would be under a different type of surveillance, right? always feeling like she was walking down the cat walk (literally). why would she elect to get breast implants, especially the size that she selected? (of course, these statements are coming from someone who has been blessed in that department, so i don't know how it feels to be without). or why would she have her lips plumped? i had so many questions, and perhaps none of the questions applied to her case. at this point, while i'm having these thoughts, i had been on the eliptical a good 20 minutes on my way to 30 minutes, so this scenario has been duly influenced by my lack of oxygen and the fire in my muscles.
if she were to answer "yes" to any of the questions i posed, that would seem to indicate that we're both under surveillance. knowing that is certainly gonna help me keep my hateration in check.
poem of the day
Maya Angelou
Phenomenal Woman
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies
I'm not cute or built to suit a model's fashion size
But when I start to tell them
They think I'm telling lies.
I say
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips
The stride of my steps
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please
And to a man
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees
Then they swarm around me
A hive of honey bees.
I say
It's the fire in my eyes
And the flash of my teeth
The swing of my waist
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say
It's in the arch of my back
The sun of my smile
The ride of my breasts
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say
It's in the click of my heels
The bend of my hair
The palm of my hand
The need for my care.
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.
Posted by emnorris at 04:52 AM | Comments (0)
October 09, 2006
almost done
i'm in a weird spot right now...i handed in my last written exam on thursday and am waiting to hear the results (pass/fail). then it's on to the oral defense...1.5 hours of explaining, justifying, validating my exams...i'm almost there but not quite.
the exams are an interesting process. at the same moment that you feel like you've showcased all the shit you know, in the next instant, you feel anxious like "did i make any sense?" or "does that paragraph work in that spot?" then, you turn in your stuff, and it's done. outta your hands. waiting future/future waiting.
nevertheless, it's done and done. thank goodness. i've been playing lots of playstation, watching lots of tv, and cleaning the house. this weekend, i cleaned my room and i mean cleaned. i have so many clothes that i just don't wear anymore or just can't fit. i decided to send this stuff to the philippines. my mom and i had been talking about it, and i just decided to get it done. but this process has been very revealing and a little painful. on the one hand, i'm very happy to be able to help out my family. the poverty and hard times there, i can't even imagine. but as i was pulling out clothes from my closet and dresser drawers and looking thru shoe boxes, i felt this tug in my gut and on my heart. it's hard to explain, and i guess the best way to describe it would be: i was feeling class and privilege guilt. there i was, standing in the master bedrood of the two bedroom apartment that i do not share. i'm pulling clothes out of the closet with tags still on them and gathering up shoes i haven't worn in years. i don't know what to do with these feelings. i could do some sort of analysis of capitalism and political corruption. maybe a discussion about the ills of globalization will be fruitful here. but that shit didn't matter to me this afternoon. that theory stuff doesn't do much when it comes to feelings and such.
the pile of clothes is sitting in my dining room, waiting to be boxed up and mailed. i'll be sure to send my love and hopes for the future: be sure to tape it up tight. i'll keep my guilt to myself. it won't do anyone any good. except remind me why i do what i do despite it all...
Posted by emnorris at 04:24 AM | Comments (0)