Sunday, 26 February 2012
Can you spell "S-C-A-R-Y????
OMG!! *looking around me in horror* What a world!!!
For goodness sake, people, WATCH OUT!!!!
Saturday, 25 February 2012
Fiction in a Flash #77
* You may only write 55 words.
* Your entry must be fiction.
* You may not alter the picture in any way.
* Post your entry as a blog on your page, and drop off the link in the comments section on this page.
* Have fun! (Yes, it's a rule! )
Sunday, 19 February 2012
Questions of Identity
Do their arguments that "black people only have a history as slaves in America", that outside of February, blacks have no history, and no significance, that they are even more exploitable now that they have a month that can be commercialized, with huge financial gains for folk other than blacks, hold water?
Is the idea that since there are no months for Jews and Latinos and Asians (and so on), that there should be none for blacks, a valid idea?
Does the argument that "Black History is American History" sufficient rationalization for the abolition of Black History Month?
Is the organization that founded the commemoration right in labeling this "postmodernist identity games"?
Is an America without Black History Month an America without black history?
Hard to explain to someone who has no clue. It's a daily struggle being in pain or feeling sick on the inside while you look fine on the outside. Please put this as your status for at least 1 hour if you or someone you know has an invisible illness (PTSD, Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression,Crohn's Disease, Diabetes, LUPUS, Fibromyalgia,TM, MS, ME, HS, Chronic Fatigue, Arthritis, Celiac, Cancer, Heart Disease, Epilepsy, Autism,M.D. Scarcoidosis, etc.) " Never judge what you don't understand.
Moving Images Challenge #50
The silence broken
only by the hissing steam --
kettle calls for tea.
Motion suspended,
except where he and she touch --
slowly pulsing heat.
Their bodies aligned,
noses, beating heart to heart --
aching groin to groin.
Time marking their place,
waiting for the rolling boil --
passion's lazy play.
Table, patient, waits,
almost knowing, food or lust --
either end fulfills.
Copyright © 2012 by Teri K D Bannerman
Saturday, 18 February 2012
K's FIAF # 76
Fiction in a Flash #76
* You may only write 55 words.
* Your entry must be fiction.
* You may not alter the picture in any way.
* Post your entry as a blog on your page, and drop off the link in the comments section on this page.
* Have fun! (Yes, it's a rule! )
Wednesday, 15 February 2012
Stolen from Facebook: "This happened on TAM airlines. A 50-something year old white woman arrived at her seat and saw that the passenger next to her was a black man. Visibly furious, she called the air hostess. "What's the problem, ma?" the hostess asked her "Can't you see?" the lady said - "I was given a seat next to a black man. I can't seat here next to him. You have to change my seat" - "Please, calm down, ma" - said the hostess "Unfortunately, all the seats are occupied, but I'm still going to check if we have any." The hostess left and returned some minutes later. "Madam, as I told you, there isn't any empty seat in this class- economy class. But I spoke to the captain and he confirmed that there isn't any empty seats in the economy class. We only have seats in the first class." And before the woman said anything, the hostess continued "Look, it is unusual for our company to allow a passenger from the economy class change to the first class. However, given the circumstances, the commandant thinks that it would be a scandal to make a passenger travel sat next to an unpleasant person." And turning to the black man, the hostess said: "Which means, Sir, if you would be so nice to pack your handbag, we have reserved you a seat in the first class..." And all the passengers nearby, who were shocked to see the scene started applauding, some standing on their feet." SHARE IF YOU ARE AGAINST RACISM!"
Sunday, 12 February 2012
Is it me, or is there a delicate and telling irony inherent in the fact that so many folk, in their effort to show the depth of their indifference to and even disgust for Whitney Houston because she had a troubled life, post items on the subject at her death? Seems like a memorial to me, albeit a less than stellar one. Of course, given her notoriety, even THAT is as good as any other kind of memorial. Fortunately for her, if not for those who loved her, words really no longer can hurt her!
Monday Music Magic ~ "Heart"
Valentine's Day is this Tuesday. I know I won't be doing any blogs for it, so this will have to suffice for all I want to say about romantic love, and every other kind. I'm not in a terribly happy frame of mind right now, but thinking about the ones I love brings a smile to my face, and warms my heart.
First, in honor of the genre I write most often in, here's a borrowed perspective on the subject which I find to be very much on the money for me. How about you?
“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest, and it opens up your heart, and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you. Then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life. You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you, or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out, and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like "Maybe we should be just friends" turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. But, "Don't hate love!"
Obviously, not all of us experience the second part of this description, but I'm pretty sure all of us have had the first part. And for me, that part was worth all the shivery, trembling uncertainty. Much of what I write comes from that place...it's where I am my most open.
I know the depth of my passions, and who has my heart for all time! I love you!
Next, that love that makes you want to tear your hair out, and grab hold of the loved ones and smoosh them and protect them, even when you want to throttle them. I'm talking about mother love. Or father love, if you're a dad. I suppose, though I cannot know for sure, that fathers share some of the paradoxical quality of this kind of love...the need to nurture even as you wish you could "take them out (of this world) again", to quote Dr. Cliff Huxtable (Bill Cosby) in "The Cosby Show". The love of a parent for a child is no more of an easy emotion than is that between lovers. And those of us who have children share some, if not all of the fruits and frustrations of being custodians of the youth entrusted to us.
My children have my heart, and I miss them when they leave.
Love of children for parents, and of siblings for each other, are a kind of mirror image of that of parents for children. The bond of blood, or familial ties where there is no shared blood, makes all our dealings fraught with the power that such a bond inevitably bestows, whether for good or ill. You know the saying "You can't live with them, and you can't live without them?" That sums up a lot of sibling bonding and love of children for parents. And as we age, and the needs of our parents change, we are often forced to re-evaluate those feelings we may have been holding on to, and to reassess what is truly important in our lives. Growing up changes the feelings between children and their parents and between siblings. Growing older changes them some more.
My parents and my siblings have my heart, even with all the angers and frustrations and fears, because there is also love and laughter.
Last is the love we bear for our friends, those people who, as someone has said, are "the family we choose". That love is almost like that between lovers, except you don't want to make wild monkey love to them -- they are "neutral", neither as close as lovers nor as far as strangers, but possessing the unique perspective of both sides. And the hurt can be as great when things go wrong in a friendship, as the joys can run high when they go right. What would we be without our friends? And how unhappy must those people be who cannot share their hearts with someone as "neutral" as a friend!
All my true friends, and we both know who you are, have my heart.
Goodbye, Mama! We Love You!
Myrtle Sylvia Bonnick, née Walters, was born on June 28th, 1926. She died on January 31, 2012. She is survived by her husband Keith, her children Yvonne, Hugh, Michael, and Ronald, and numerous grand- and great-grandchildren. She will be laid to rest later this afternoon, in Dovecot Memorial Park, Kingston, Jamaica, West Indies.
All who had the privilege of knowing her, and being touched by her love and care for others, loved her. She was a woman of faith, a disciplinarian, a lover of her family, full of joy and laughter, and strong, enduring the pain of loss with dignity and grace. She gave freely of her means, small though they were, to those who had a need, and her home was always open. We will miss her greatly!
These are the pictures I could find of her in our old albums, from the days when we still printed hard copies of pictures. When my hubby returns from Jamaica, I will post more pictures in a separate album.
This first one was taken when my hubby was very young. He is standing next to her.
This next one was taken when our children were still very young, a year after we arrived in the US, and were living on our own for the first time.
This last one is of three generations -- Mama (on the left), Hugh, her son (my hubby with the bald head), and Jalel, her grandson (my second son, aged 1+, forehead touching his dad's) in some mall in the US.
She WILL rest in peace. I just know it!
Monday Music Magic ~ "Together"
We human beings take being together with those we love for granted most of the time, until something happens to threaten the status quo, or to ruffle the smooth surface of our accustomed existence.
Departure, whether by death or planes/boats/trains/cars, is always the thing that makes us stop and wonder, stop and think...stop and fear. We want to be together with others...we NEED it -- well most of us do, anyway!
It's why we come here, isn't it? To be together with people of like mind, with some of whom we forge deep and lasting relationships. Together, we are better than apart. Together, we are stronger than apart. Together, we are safer than apart.
Thank you all who come by often, some of you every day, to be with me, to encourage and tease, and challenge, and argue, and love me. I appreciate your presence much more than I can say. And now, when I feel most emotionally vulnerable, as I contemplate death, I thank you even more for being here...together with me! *BIG HUGS*
Saturday, 11 February 2012
Rest in peace, girlie!
K's FIAF #75
Fiction in a Flash #75
* You may only write 55 words.
* Your entry must be fiction.
* You may not alter the picture in any way.
* Post your entry as a blog on your page, and drop off the link in the comments section on this page.
* Have fun! (Yes, it's a rule! )
Friday, 10 February 2012
Moving Images Challenge # 49
Moving Images Challenge # 48
Saturday, 4 February 2012
Within
I want to know what you ache for,
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.
It doesn’t interest me how old you are,
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams,
for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow,
if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shriveled and closed
from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own,
without moving to hide or fade it or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own:
if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers
and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic,
or to remember the limitations of being a human.
It doesn’t interest me if the story you’re telling me is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself;
if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.
I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see the beauty even when it is not pretty everyday,
and if you can source your life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge
of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes”!
It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair,
weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children.
It doesn’t interest me who you are, or how you came to be here, I want to know if you
Will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
K's FIAF #74
The villas by the lake towered, silent ghosts. The line slack in her hands, her hair growing back after months of gut-wrenching loss, she inhaled the joy of life restored, exhaled the fear. She needed time away from the anchor of the shore, to tell herself she was okay...fishing for peace, and finding it.
Fiction in a Flash #74
* You may only write 55 words.
* Your entry must be fiction.
* You may not alter the picture in any way.
* Post your entry as a blog on your page, and drop off the link in the comments section on this page.
* Have fun! (Yes, it's a rule! )
Wednesday, 1 February 2012
"Rara Avis..."
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