Are You There God? It's Me, Dawn

I very rarely remember dreams, but I remember the one from last night and I’m going to need your help with this one.

As soon as I got into my car (which is a standard transmission), there was a mysterious dark-haired lady in my backseat and she put me in a headlock.

No, she didn’t want my car or my purse (smart lady!), but asked if I had an iPod.  I told her I did and she asked where it was and I told her that it was in the console.  She then looked out the window at another car and nodded.

At that point, I started driving, but very erratically because of being in the headlock.  The engine was screaming because I was driving in first gear.  The person in the other car was gaining on me, but when I was able to get the car into second and third gear, I could pull away from the other car.  The reason I was having such a hard time getting into gear was because the dark-haired lady was tussling with me.

That’s the end of the dream.  What the heck does that mean?

To my knowledge, no one’s mad at me.  Why was I able to get away in second gear?  That’s like twenty five mph.  It’s not a special iPod…just a nano.  And not the snazzy new video version.

What do you think?

I know I'd said in a previous post that I'm not snooty, but rather it was the folks of Small Town who were the oddballs.

Maybe I am snooty...but if I am, so are all the other folks at my job!  I've asked numerous folks what social activities are available here and they all say the same thing.

Go to Chicago.  Go to Milwaukee.  Go to Madison.

There is nothing here.  Nothing. 

Well, besides me...and let's face it, I'm pretty fabulous.  :)   But I can only have so much fun with myself...wait, that didn't come out right.

You know what I mean.

Anyhoo, I'm apparently a snob.  But at least I'm not alone. 

It's long...this article.  But you should read it.  No...you need to read it.

It's about race in America.  It uses the Michael Vick saga as it's jumping off point...it's wonderfully written and very intriguing.  I am not a Vick fan, nor am I a fan of his behavior.  But his situation has brought some interesting thoughts and ideas to the surface.

I am an admitted oddball.  I'm a Black woman who was raised predominantly around White folks.  I love rock and alternative...or "White music" as my Black friends say.  I also love old school R & B and some hip hop.  I am as comfortable around Whites as I am Blacks, because of how I was raised.

But also because of the way I was raised...I understand what being Black in America means.  I've been called the "n" word.  I've been told by schoolmates that I can't enter their home because their parents don't like Black folks.  I don't think that it's jaded me (I'd marry a White man if he loved the Lord and me), but it's a reality.

You're not color-blind...stop saying it.  Stop thinking it.  You can see that I'm Black, just like I can see that you're White...or Hispanic...or Asian.  There's nothing wrong with seeing color.  It's what you associate with that color that's important. 

Please stop saying you're color-blind.  You're not.

An except:

Go back to a 1997 Vanity Fair essay on race by Fran Leibowitz:

I think this is an important article.  At the very least, give it a skim.

I wish it was still back in the day when you could whup other folks' kids.

No, I'm not mean, it's just that I almost hit two little boys because they were trying to push each other into traffic.  Yes...into oncoming traffic!

The sad part was that while traffic was stopping and swerving to avoid these two future presidents (don't you think W did stuff like this?), they were laughing it up.  They thought the traffic logjam they created was funny.

The sadder part is that I have no doubt that the parents of these knuckleheads would find a way for it to be the driver's fault if someone was unable to avoid their kiddos.

I I had done something like this when I was a kid, some random adult would have snatched me up and taken me straight to my house...where I would have gotten reacquainted with dad's belt. 

Wanted: churchy, quirky/nerdy, athletic guy.

Seems easy enough right?  Well, it's not.  Those particular traits have been near impossible to find in one person.  So I've been compromising.

Not very churchy...but he believes in God at least!

Not quirky or nerdy...well, no one's always one way.

Not athletic and doesn't really like sports...but I like the arts and stuff too.

All of those excuses (and that's really all that they are) are true, but they just lead me to an unfulfilled dating life.  I think it's why I am where I am right now.  Sure there are more things that I'm looking for in a man...but those are the biggies.

I'm very churchy, very dorky, and very athletic...those are things that I've got to share with the man in my life.

I just hope he's out there looking for me. 

*whisper, whisper*

Me: what was that? Did I hear something?

*whisper, whisper*

Me: *looking around* I know I just heard something what was th...uh oh.

JCrew website: *whispering* There's cool stuff to buy here Dawn...don't you wanna come look?

Me: no! I trying to save money...the holidays are right around the corner.

JCW: *whispering in sing songy voice* You know you wanna see our cute sweaters and corduroys!

Me: I suppose it's free to look right? *clicking thru site* Oooo, khakis are on sale!

JCW: see, aren't you happy you came?

Me: *rifling thru purse looking for credit card* I sure am!!

JCW: *evil laugh* gotcha!

Things that I've yet to do:

*leave the house wearing rollers in my hair

*leave the house without combing my hair

*use more cuss words in a sentence than non-cuss words

*leave the house without brushing my teeth

*leave the house without washing my face

Today I've:

*seen someone who left the house wearing rollers in her hair

*seen another young lady who left the house without combing her hair

*listened to a young whippersnapper string together a sentence using nothing but cuss words and "the"

*talked to a youngun who'd apparently neglected to brush his teeth

*seen a little kids who's mom forgot to wash her snotty face

And it's only 9:30 in the morning.  *sigh* 

This is one of those songs that I can listen to over and over and over...just wonderful.  The Robbie Seay Band has both electric and acoustic versions on their new CD.  I promise if you hear this song, you'll fall in love too.

All my life, I've never quite fit in and for the most part I'm good with it...but every now and then it gets me down.  This song explains how I feel in ways that I just couldn't.

Oh, my God
Shine Your light on us
That we might live
Oh, my God
Shine Your light on us
That we might live

I've been holding on
I've been holding on
All that is inside me
Screams to come back home

If you feel lost
If you feel lost
Sing along
If you feel tired
If you feel tired
Sing along
If you feel lost and tired
This is your song

I've been broken down
I've been broken down
I ain’t giving up
Love will come back around

I think I might have a problem.

In fact I know I do.  Similar to a meth addicts I assume.

I'm jones'n for caffeine.  Coffee.

I tried to give it up because I was trying to be a moderate person and not be a dang fiend.  But after my head started pounding like a bass drum...I gave up giving up. I'm embarrassed to say that the first taste of coffee down my throat was like manna from Heaven.

Is this bad?

'Cause if it is, I really don't care because I'm hooked.  *eye twitch* 

So old dude,

Maybe I should be flattered...I mean, maybe you thought I was dainty.  And let's be honest, no one's thought I was a dainty, fragile thing in a long while.

That's the only explanation that makes the fact that you gave me the "girl" handshake understandable.

What made you think that when I extended my hand confidently, that you were to then grab my fingertips like you were pinching salt?  What?  The big man's gonna break the little girls hand? 

Anyway, thanks for what I think was a compliment...you acknowledging my lady-ness and all.  But next time...just shake my hand!

Smooches,

Dawn