Heavy.

  We sat silently as the other two patrons of the theater exited.  The credits rolled on and the only word that came to my mind was "shit".  None of us were strangers to the struggle that we had just seen played out before us.  Police brutality, racism, big city life, all of these things have been with us since before we could remember, yet to see it on screen, to see it done with integrity, was gripping.  Oscar Grant III's story has become an everyday occurrence. 
  Eugene Jackson died a week ago today, for absolutely nothing.  Not armed, no longer at the scene of a crime with which he had no part in, Eugene was shot for "looking suspicious".  All month, Black men and boys have been gunned down and hunted for being outside in their own neighborhoods, for passing by someone's front yard or listening to music with their friends.  All month and nothing is happening.  There's no justice for them or their families.  My heart goes out to those who have seen a loved one lost at the hands of justice.  My eyes well up just thinking about what my father,brothers, nephews, cousins and uncles have had to endure just to make it through another day.  
  I wonder about justice and who it stands to serve?  Even the most seemingly compliant person can still get the snot beat out of them in the name of justice.  Why is an officer committing murder tried differently than their civilian counterpart?  Why is one person's life held higher than another?  These are the questions that come to my mind when a man is a victim of cold blooded murder and the guy who kills him goes free.  These things happen so frequently, I wonder if it's meant to desensitize the population.  Make it become normal so that when the next person dies whether it be a stranger or a family member, we don't even have the energy to rally.  We can't wait for justice to be served on a silver platter.  We can't hold our tongues and not speak about the fact that the color of a person's skin plays a significant role in how they are treated by authority.
 Give birth to a Black baby boy and spend the rest of your life fearing for the day he doesn't come home to you.  Don Lemon has five rules that will keep you alive little boy.  Just pull up your pants and the cloak of privilege will be upon you.  Jay-Z doesn't see race, so we're all in the clear now.  Tim Allen can't wrap his European mind around why it's inappropriate for him to use the word nigga.  Reality is teaching boys of color that their lives aren't worth a damn and to live with their hands behind their heads and to equate Blackness with wrongdoing.  Black is beautiful and there is nothing wrong with that.
  


 

Return.

I began this experience years prior.  I have decided to return to little-ease and use it as a jumping off point for something more substantial.  I don't know everything and try not to tell anyone how to live or how to be.  Life has taken many twists and turns, there's so much happening in the world, so rapidly and it's hard to keep up.  My scope is wide: Food, Race, Sex, Cats and everything in between.  They are all intertwined and are the make up of my day to day.  So, I invite you to read, to think and to share your thoughts with me, but more importantly, with each other.  Sigue leyendo!

PB Pick me up!

Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies

INGREDIENTS

• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1/2 cup packed brown sugar
• 1/2 cup butter, room temperature
• 1/2 cup peanut butter (or more! :))
• 1 egg
• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1 1/4 cup flour
• 3/4 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1 cup chocolate chips

1 Beat the butter until creamy, 2 minutes. Add the sugars, beat for 2 more minutes. Mix in the peanut butter and egg. Mix together the dry ingredients - flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt & chocolate chips. Stir the dry ingredients into the sugar butter mixture.

2 Cover the dough bowl and refrigerate the dough for ~2 hours

3 Preheat oven to 375°F. Shape dough into 1 1/4 inch balls. Place about 3 inches apart on ungreased cookie sheet. Bake until light brown, 9 to 10 minutes. Cool on baking sheets for a minute; transfer to rack to cool completely.

This recipe will yield ~2 dozen cookies.

Store them in an airtight container for up to a week. Alternatively you can shape the dough into a log and freeze it for a few months. Then you can make yourself a PB pick me up whenever you need it!

nonpareil

fall is here. i smell its onslaught in this humid air. and with the cooling down of the weather comes the flames of heartaches, sleepless nights and the desire to be in someone's arms. it's hard to take on such a reality when the one you want can not come out of their shell. i go through the motions---walking on air, fire beneath my feet, heart palpitations, clumsy hands. the longing, the pining, the words which go unspoken, the looks from across the room. the wonder that comes with each sighting. screaming "it's not fair!", whispering in his ear, laughing. wondering if it's real, if the potential i see is actually there. and when people say it can not be, it makes me want it even more. i want to turn the tables in our favor and swim against the tide together. i hope for real love in this loveless city. i want to find a sliver of integrity within the dregs of this deceit..

let's be real

the past four days i've had off from work has afforded me the opportunity to completely assess why i was leaving Boston for New York.  my friends and acquaintances offered up their views on why one city was better than the other. most favored to move--at least with respect to who I am.  some people that i worked with gave me puzzled looks, asked me "why are you moving from Boston?", as though it were heaven on Earth.  Often, I wanted to answer, "Because Boston sucks!", but my response was usually, "Because I want to" or "It's time to move on".

i don't regret living in Boston at all.  it helped me to realize the experience i want to have from living in a major city.  i made some good friends and had a lot of good times. those are things which i can not forget.  however, not being a student in Boston and not having a car decreased my ability to experience the diversity that i know is present there.  a week ago--thanks to my co-worker Lisa, I saw Chinatown in Boston at night for the first time. We were out until almost four in the morning.  Prior to that I didn't think it was possible to be out anywhere in Boston past 2am.  It made me wonder what other hidden gems, like the Peach Tree existed in Boston.  All these culturally diverse experiences exist, but they are tucked away in little neighborhoods and back alleys. I felt like I got short changed in Boston.

let's be real, New York City is the type of place that people dream about.  Whether you're living in East Bumblefuck, USA--or somewhere outside of the states, you can only hope that you make it to NYC before you expire.  Sure, it's not a place everyone wants to live in, but it is a place where you can always find something to do.  It is a place where you don't have to seek out diversity. It will find you.  You step off the subway and all you see is different little shops each run by someone who has come to NY from somewhere else.  It is a place that anyone can come to, regardless of where they are from around the world, and come to know it as home and now it's mine too.  

cucumber

looking into your eyes.

i feel trapped in a web,

vulnerable to your advances.

so i look towards the floor

or wear sunglasses.

the flesh of your neck so nice

the last time we said goodbye.

your hands on my face.

a dream? a lie?

breakfast, waking up

next to each other, when?

i'll believe you until it doesn't happen.

playing it cool aint easy, but tomorrow i'm gonna try.

i want it to work out in my favor this time tomorrow.

is that too much to ask?

could be my treat

duck boots quacking, i stumbled home in the rain. my mind flashes back to moments before: dancing against a wall, pressing our mouths together,running down the street hand in hand.

wrapped in a gray sweater, umbrella exploded, my skin is cold, but my lips are still warm, my tongue is still hot with the taste of your breath.

days pass. was it a dream or a dream come true? your skin, tight as a drum under my touch never felt so fantastic.

time is short and moments such as these are few.

***

timing. it seems that it's never in our control when/how things come to be. when you're not thinking about something, it happens. when you're about to make moves you reach an obstacle. or sometimes you make yourself wait only to miss the moment completely. so i say to timing, "get tossed!". carpe diem everyday, today, while you read this post. if the ambition exists, that's the time to do it. i think that we can have it all, we just gotta reach out and grab it.