Sunday, August 11

M (who has been awake since 6am) has finally decided to grace the household with a nap. Hopefully it'll last longer than an hour so that I can go grocery shopping and at least check the mail.

I woke up at 3am on saturday, from very strange dreams about windows with no glass, and doors sealed with broken pieces of tape. Then, last night, I sat outside journaling (on paper) about things that don't usually bother me in waking life. Things like how some of us can only trace our history backwards for a few generations before we hit a brick wall called "slavery", and how harsh and cruel that is. I thought about how my grandmothers (on both sides) might consider my dating habits a slap in the face, considering that they've lived through the time when interracial dating was illegal, and could've been killed for the things that I take for granted.

I've never actually sat and carefully thought about those things, and while I was thinking, I was so full of grief and anxiety that I didn't know what to do with myself. It took a really long time for me to go to sleep last night.

I can trace part of my family to Manila, and the rest of it stops at one ugly word.

Wednesday, August 7

Before I even rolled out of bed, I could see the moon through the blinds. A little sliver of silver, reflecting the light of the rising sun.

On an even better note, the weird little mark that suddenly appeared on my inner arm fourth of july weekend (the one that I believe is directly related to a specific encounter and the aftermath of said encounter) has finally disappeared. No, it wasn't dirt (grrr), nor was it skin cancer (whew!) - and if it was the mark of the beast (trust me, you'd rather not know) - it's gone now...

Tuesday, August 6

That's what I get for being snarky - I've had "another one bites the dust" stuck in my head since I made that post this morning.

Tomorrow is my birthday, which means that it will either rain, sprinkle, or go into full-on thunderstorm mode like it has every august seventh since I was born. You better believe that if the sun shines and no natural disasters occur, I'll be counting it as an omen from the gods of something or another that my life is going to turn itself around and get better this year. Eiither way, I fall under the spell of the new moon, so I'm hopeful.
Mobius one says it far better than I ever could...
Last night I had a screwy nightmare. Before I fell asleep, I'd been thinking about cleansing my mind of "issues" from the past. Mental cleansing.

In the dream, I was walking down a street, and some "shady" people that I recently came in contact with (for those of you who know me, think "jc" in capitals) drove past in a bile colored car. I was trying not to run, but I picked up the pace of my walk because I'd been on their property or in their house.

When I walked back into my own house, I started cleaning, picking up m's toys and my shoes. When I opened the dishwasher/oven (because this is a dream, and all of your appliances take on new personalities) I found the body of a "bad" kid that I went to middle school with.

He'd been baked.
This morning I did something strange (for me). I went outside and changed my shoes from the open toed sandals that I wear (with big, fat, padded bottoms) to boots. Why? Because today is a "wake" in my office.

What is a "wake"?

It's a funeral tradition - the body of the person who has passed away (died) is laid out for viewing for a few hours (or a couple of days) before burial.

Why the hell do people want to look at a dead body?

To say your last goodbye.
(I'll try to find a really great link that talks about the origins of the "wake". It started as a nightime activity where a family member would sit with the body for a night to be certain that they weren't going to "wake" -up.)

Why the hell is there a dead body in your office?!

My office is weird. 'nuff said.

Anyhow, I changed my shoes in an attempt to be respectful and not flounce around the building with open toed sandals on. I'm wearing black boots, which seemed better to me. See, I'm kind of anal about funeral rituals because I've seen how disrespectful of the dead some people can be. (You may remember the past entry about my great-grandmothers funeral, where the lights were flashed like we were at a club/disco/house party...)

So I come back into my office, and one of my coworkers says "I was hoping you weren't going to put those on." To which, I was tempted to reply "I was hoping that you weren't going to be a bitch and piss me off this morning, but I see that's not going to happen, so we're even."

I fully understand that I am a "strange bird" around here, and that my boots, my silver jewelery, and my long hair are not welcome here, along with the fact that I am one of the youngest members of our staff. However, if you see me step out of myself for just a minute and make an effort to do something "nice" in the name of respect, and I've told you "I'm changing my shoes because I feel that they are inappropriate." -don't make sarcastic remarks when I come back in the door. I didn't put the shoes on for you, I did it to pay my respects (in my own small way) to the man in the coffin.

Afterall, I could've just said "I don't even know the dead man, fuck off."

(Or worse... I could've started humming "another one bites the dust.")