Monday, August 29, 2011

Blue Panty Day (drawers to suit your mood)...


The Pick of the Day

is not creating any unnecessary noise today
is creating an adult space filled with music and booze
is creating a unique piece which suits my personality
is being selective in her selection
is putting sweaters in the cleaners (fall's coming)
is being led where she wants to go
is going as far as YOU let me
is seeing "it" from my window: a testament of living wrong

but deliciously so...


I awoke this morning staring into my underwear drawer. Gazing deep into a cotton-polyester (sometimes silk) oblivion, I felt a strange peace fall upon me. Why do I feel so content? Because life is moving forward. Sometimes I'm at pace with it, and sometimes it's just slightly ahead: Encouraging me to keep up. Quite a prolific thought for a cloudy, unusually cool summer's morning.

Then I also thought: Do men wear their underwear to suit their moods, too? I'll lie mine out onto the bed (color coordinated, of course), and pick which bra and panty set will match where my head is at that particular moment. Red for sexy; funny/quirky panties for creativity; black for solemness, etc. Do guys do this? Or do they just pick out any drawer from their drawer?

Today is blue, but changed my mind to white. What does that mean? I really do think the choice of undies for the day is fairly significant, don't you?

rainwriter jones

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

The Day I Had Red Hair (and lived to tell the tale)

...and this AIN'T me!

Life does, indeed, have it's twists and turns. My turn toward righteousness and good deeds happened a few years ago when I decided to dye my hair red. Shocking red: The shade of Bozo the Clown! Feeling cavalier, I knew that I was the baddest chick this side of the continental divide (though I would find out differently a little later).

The truck needed some major body work, so it was in the repair shop. I needed a ride, and I called a taxi to pick me up. The driver was a lunatic! Said he wanted to kill someone 'cause he was upset. I kept talking to him: Get his mind off of driving me over a cliff or something. Well, I make it to the auto body repair shop unscathed, but this is where the REAL life-changing event occurred.

I was on the cell phone with my husband, snacks in hand (jelly beans, of course). As I crossed the street from the gas station, a white car careened down the road, nearly striking me. So, out of anger, I yelled at the dude. He slams on his brakes and yells something back. I pass this off as another idiot who needed to head back to driving school, and continued my stride toward the shop. Just as I entered the parking lot, a white car FLIES into the lot (the addition of dust and rocks made the scene even more terrifying). At this moment, the prideful red head disappeared, and the chicken took over. I found a crowd of bystanders to hide amongst! Yep, human shields. One of the guys re-assured me "that wasn't the man you were arguing with." (LMBAO) The car passed through two parked cars, and crashed through the hedges of an adjacent parking lot. Out pops an employee late for work at the gas station. WHEW!!!

I think I shaved 5 years off the end of my life that day, but learned a valuable lesson. A big mouth full of nasty words coupled with arrogance can get you into a world of trouble. Believe me, I've been cool ever since.

And I vow NEVER to sport red hair again!

rainwriter jones

Monday, August 15, 2011

How Did You Get SOOO F*cked Up! (or, the policy of living "messy")

just another bum...or not?

Had a lovely and interesting trip to Nevada. For the past 4 days, I sunned, funned, and watched bums forging through garbage cans for recycling items and whatnots. As I saw yet another indigent in the center lane of a busy boulevard either stoned out of his mind, mentally ill, or both, my thoughts began to wander. How did this man end up in my view at this particular point in time of MY life? My blog today addresses the issue of being "messy." You can either be messy by being physically cluttered (i.e., messy house), or mentally messy (i.e., finding or creating trouble, not taking care of your life business, just a f*ck up).

I have had several incidents of mental messiness in recent history. This is a "cleansing" blog to which I know several of you can relate. It doesn't matter what social standing to which you belong, what neighborhood you live, or even what country in which you reside. I'm sure EVERYONE has had someone in their lives who just don't get it. That throw hot potatoes your way, just waiting for you to get your hands burned, and maybe even laughing at your pain. Those who have taken advantage of your good nature by using sh*t that doesn't belong to them, taking sh*t that doesn't belong to them, or simply doing f*cked up sh*t behind your back. Aha, I KNOW you have a special person in mind that has done this type of "mess" to you! (LMBAO)

Back to the dude in the middle of traffic on a hot summer's night in Vegas. My thoughts? He got there by living messy, by not taking care of his life's business, by not listening to what his mind/heart told him, by lifting that bottle one time too many. The messy folk I deal with may tinker with a little drug and/or alcohol, but the main deal with their ass*s is that they refuse to take responsibility for their station in life, which leaves them stationery: Rooted to the spot. They think that just because some folks are living without grips of stress, have it "together," that they are allowed not to pay the obligations that are due, or even slough at the jobs at which they are paid. Ya, it was one of those weekends, and yes, I'm bitchin' BIG TIME!

As I organize my thoughts and free my mind of these evil thoughts of retribution, I take into consideration that being nasty ain't gonna do anything but bring me to their level. I'm gonna be okay, believe me. Knowing that all of you have suffered at the hands of others, too, makes me feel better!


Messy is a state of mind.

rainwriter jones

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

The Media: Their Role in Creating Chaos

As a child, I was taught by my Mother not to trust strangers. She instilled into me that some strangers mean to do us harm. Shit, not even policemen could be trusted in certain circumstances. I didn't know how true this statement was until one day as I walked home from school with my other siblings, we were approached by a man in a car who told us that our Mother was in the hospital, and he was told to come pick us up. We didn't get in, and he drove off. Who was waiting for us at home? Our Mother! I was in Kindergarten that year, and have NEVER forgotten how close I came to being that child on the milk carton.

Throughout the years as my friends and I walked to/from school, there were men who made attempts to abduct us. I don't think our parents realized how dangerous the tree-lined boulevard actually was. We took it as a fact that it was best to walk against traffic so you could see "them" approach, and then cross to the other side of the street before their doors flung open. I've often been told that I have this un-approachable look on my face, and a "don't-mess-with-me" type attitude. It was acquired at a very young age out of necessity.

This blog post isn't entirely about my dubious encounters as a child, but how the media sensationalizes stories like these for ratings. It can harm the community at large by encouraging copycat incidents by those who may have thought about performing such crimes, but were not seriously thinking about acting on them. The news can influence those with abhorrent and/or crimimal thoughts to act on them, and even give ideas on how to implement them. With the reporting of these crimes, the media often gives details of the original crime. This can give ammunition to those who are easily swayed to do wrong.

In the case of child abduction, there wasn't much reporting of this type of crime. In 1974, a 4 year-old named Heidi Peterson was abducted. This started a string of missing children cases which to this date are unsolved. Did media coverage play a role in the increase? I do believe it did. There is a point to which reporting turns to over-emphasizing the details to increase ratings.

There were numerous school shootings in the United States a few years back. I don't think there would have been so many of them if other emotionally unstable children wouldn't have been given the information on how the attacks were acted out, or if the media were not to have continually reported on it. The would-be perpetrators saw how much media coverage the massacre received and for their 15 minutes of fame, decided to do it themselves.

And now in London riots. What started out as a protest revolving around a shooting has escalated to an all-out battle between police and hoodlums. Media coverage showed the chaos and mayhem, and those who had criminal intentions made their way to add to it. Hell, with my own eyes, I saw people laughing as they called on their cell phones for others to join them.

Do I think the media should be controlled? To a point. Better judgment should be used on not only what is covered, but HOW it's covered! To exercise better control over the content that is shared, and how often to share it. A little restraint goes a long way.

It could even save a life. Maybe yours.

rainwriter jones

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Yes, Dear Harriet: There's Cream in that Coffee!

Life in the multi-cultural family is an interesting one. Yesterday I went to the community center with my grandson, nephew, and Mother. We had a lovely time playing in the park with the other children, taking pictures, and spending time together. At the end of our visit, we entered the center to cancel the membership of my elder daughter. I have been friendly with one of the staff members there, so I thought I'd introduce my family to her. I received a slow, dissecting look on her part at my relatives: Trying to make heads or tails at our relationship towards each other. We range from very dark to very light in our complexions, yet, we are family just the same. She was even bold enough to ask my nephew "does he (my grandson) belong to you?" At that point, I eased out of the office thinking that this woman was a total idiot. She had imparted me with information that she was involved in an interracial relationship, so I thought she was "down." Needless to say, I won't be dealing with her ass any longer! In another instance, I've had someone straight up ask me what my grandson was "mixed" with. Lord have mercy! I answered her matter-of-factly just to let her know that I wasn't fazed with the question, but amazed that she would ask it.

My family is comprised of many ethnic groups, and it's always laughable to see folks' reactions when we're all together. Black, White, and Asian. Some of us with only the one ethnicity: Others a beautiful blend. But...we're family just the same. We were never taught to differentiate between races like some people do, but to judge the character. With this said, I do believe there still is an underlying racism embedded within our society. Little nasties like this often arise when the economy is bad, folks are struggling to pay their bills/keep their jobs, and they've got to find someone to place all their troubles.

Interesting how my little interracial family can cause such a stir. I'm proud to stir up the pot!

rainwriter jones