Here's to the crazy ones.

Here’s to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They’re not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can praise them, disagree with them, quote them, disbelieve them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can’t do is ignore them. Because they change things...

The race is on, yo.

Change

Now that the Obamas are
in the White
House, is it still
White?

Now that Barack Hussein Obama is the 44th President of the United States, I am listening to an awful lot of chatter about race. Why are we still discussing this matter? This really bothers me. I hear that there is a huge jump in racist death threats against our president. What the fuck, people? As a person who is bi-racial, or multi-racial, or mostly a member of the human race, I for one am tired of this shit. Wanna know what I'm tired of? I'm tired of this ignorant hate. I'm tired of black-versus-white. I'm tired of ignorant assholes who think I'm a white girl like them. I'm tired of getting elbowed in the ribs and I'm especially tired of getting let in on the joke. Wanna know what I think? I hope Obama is the first of 44 consecutive Black Presidents. Here is the beginning of a poem. Change, people, change. I'm done with this shit.

Red, White, and Blue

Red-and-white-and-blue
lights flickered in the dark room,
from the old t.v. set,
and the rhetorical buzz droned on
as we both sat and watched,
each in our own private thoughts.

pickaninnies in the White House
my friend said straightfaced,
and took a swig of her
Natural Light beer
then crushed it with her hand
as she reached for another.

You are so inquisitive, dear reader,

I can read your mind. What makes her think she is a Writer? Okay, you outed me. Really, I’m a Loser. But I’m trying to change; really, I am. I lost my job in January 2008, and couldn’t find another one, that’s how this all started. Yup, I'm one of those ones who slept in her car for six months. And then I thought, “Why the hell am I doing this, and where am I going, anyway?” Fuck this, I paid my taxes, I want some of my share. And here I am now, naked, in front of you. Back in school; trying to grow up, do something with my brain. Which is huge, see, because of my amazing track record: a one-time high school drop-out and a two-time college drop-out.

It’s been a thousand years since I've been in school. And what an experience last semester! I could write a book about it, and it would go something like this: Penniless, jobless for six months, graduated from the car to sleeping on a friend’s couch, thankful she was feeding me, hoping “they” didn’t repo my car, petitioning for financial aid to pay for my classes, unable buy my texts. (Yes, "they" said I wasn't eligible for financial aid because I made too much money the previous year -- no matter that I'm sleeping in my car.)

Eventually, I figured out that all my books, except a couple, were available at the public library, but I had to request them from other branches -- an inter-library transfer. Had to wait more, as the semester ticked on. I finally got the library books, just as I was ready to drop out of my favorite class, Creative Writing (the only books the library didn't have). The worker-bees in the college book store must’ve thought I was dotty, because for a bit I was going in there, in stealth mode, and sneaking a read, trying to smuggle as much information as I could, from a five-minute skimming, once or twice a week. No, I didn't drop out of Creative Writing.

Eventually, on a referral from the Learning Resource Center (I started tutoring English there in October, but had to wait until November for my $280-dollar-monthly paycheck -- hell, that doesn't even cover my car payment), I got a private tutoring gig with a special needs kid who's home-schooling, worth sixty bucks a week. So in the sixth week of classes, I bought that one text. And a Starbucks Mocha. And a bottle of wine. As I explain myself, it occurs to me that the whole thing is kind of hilarious: How To Be a College Student on Zero Dollars Down (with a bonus section on How to Steal Fountain Drinks from the Cafeteria), by Michele Beller. By the way, I finally got financial aid, halfway through the semester.

That's enough for today, I'm tired now. I'll tell you the rest later.