Friday, November 30, 2007
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Damn I couldn't get online for like 4 hours last night.
Ok, I exaggerated, I couldn't get on Multiply....for like 40 minutes . I was pissed.
Anyway, about like ten years ago, I was single, sharing custody of my two boys with my ex, and bartending, not to mention I had just lost like 50 pounds so life was sweet. Just like my weed. I used to be a pothead back then, I'm not now, although I admit, if passed a doob, I take a hit...but that's it. Anymore than that and I am a paranoid freak.
Anyway this was when my ex had the boys and I was young and kinda on my own.
But I remember, I used to have this Jamacian friend named Junior, and that was his first name he said he had 7 cousins named junior. I didn't believe him and had to confirm it with my other Jamaican friend Mark who told me he had 4 cousins whose first name's were Junior....anyway one day Junior called me because he needed a ride to work. My brother was getting ready to go to the mall because back then, he was managing the bar and was a clothes horse...he needed a new tie for work or something. So we pick up Junior in my brothers shitty CRX and i crawl in the crawl space under the back wondow. On the way taking Junior to this wood flooring factory he lights up a spliff.
My brother don't smoke so he passes it to me. I take one, two, three, shit i don't even know how many hits I took.
so we go through this road block and cops are stopping people and telling them something or whatever. I freak. i almost peed. I was like "Junior swallow that joint!"
He was like "Fuck it mon, I smoke when I want to."
I was like "I am not going to jail, gimme the joint, I will swallow it!"
"Dana mon, quit freaking out, you need to relax, that is the whole beauty of smoking the buddha is to control your emotions and relax...there is a saying in Jamaica...blahblah blah blah...." *inhale*
I try to make myself as small as possble as we go by the coppers. Junior is blowing smoke out of his air vents and singing some Marley as we go by to the cop...we are all Cheech and Chong up in the CRX,...as he sings "~Excuse me while I light my spliff
Good GOD I gotta take a lift~"
So we take him to work as I am thanking god and promising I will NEVER get high again, and I didn't for like 4 hours too.
So on the way back, my brother coaxing me I crawled in the passenger seat, he stops at the mall to go buy his ties or whatever that metrosexual wannabe was buying...he gets out of the car and looks at me. "Let's Go!"
"What the fuck?"
"I'm wearing my sweats." I say and look down.
"So?" He looks at his watch "I ain't got time for this shit Dana."
"Go." I say and look away through my half lidded eyes.
"Shit, get the fuck out of the car, who knows how long I will be in there."
"I'm high, man." I say.
"Well no shit fucking duh."
"I don't wanna go in there man. People will know." I say.
"People you don't know, high society fucks you could give a rat's ass about? People who don't give a fuck about you...who gives a rat's ass what they think? Get the fuck out of the car and let's go!" He slams the door and walks away.
To this day I don't give a fuck what people think. It's my life. Oh and I am not a pothead anymore.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
How many years was I addicted to yoYahoo ass?
My email which is a corny mayfair94 because you so granted me that email, named after my favorite witch family in Anne Rice's trilogy when she "used" to write fascinating books....i built off of that email, My Yahoo...went in many chat rooms...yes I did, back in the day, don't act like you didn't...Yahoo Sports which included many many fantasy teams, some with trophies...built my first blog...which in turn gave me many wonderful friendships....I loved you Yahoo, praised you and was addicted to you.
I left you because you turned your back on your people, but I always thought, someday...someday I can go back....then I get this email...from a friend.
It was a comic posted in honor of
The one day so many of you deem yourself thankful to be "Mary Can."
If this is how you honor Thanksgiving Yahoo then fuck you, I will smile again next time I hear your stock dropped. Bastards. To think I gave you credit when other's were saying fuck you?
> If that is how you want to honor Thanksgiving (gluttony would have been funnier) then you are damn lucky, Yahoo that you wasn't on the Mayflower, starving on that coast, digging up burial mounds for the corn that tribe buried their people with, because if I was at Plymouth Rock back then, when you...Yahoo was starving, that wishbone would have been sticking outta your Yahoo ass.
Monday, November 26, 2007
I did this challenge on 360. It was one of the best ones I did and I never transferred it to multiply or blogspot. I thought I would do that today. In fact there are a bunch I want to save over here, in case, you know...Yahoo self implodes.
One accomplishment I didn't include was the fact that Jim Thorpe hit 3 homeruns into three different states in one game. The other day soemone commented on my blog about him and I noticed on ESPN how they rated him 6th all time greatest college football player. Plus maybe all the great games this weekend made me re-post this. Anyone catch that LSU/Kentucky game? How does that shit happen?
Saturday, November 24, 2007
I don't mean to offend anyone when I write about the reservation. My readers on Multiply are wonderful people that pretty much don't judge me. The readers on blogspot are also wonderful people but there are some who are local readers, who do judge me, criticize and piss me off. I had to moderate my comments just because.
I can handle criticism, but not being attacked.
I was recently attacked in an email by someone who I really pissed off. Apparently they went far back into my blog and became pissed at me for just about everything I wrote. Everything from the welfare system to food stamps to poverty to living on the reservation.
So here is what I want to say on both blogs today.
I don't write to piss people off, however that reaction to my writing does mean something, doesn't it? I mean somewhere I touched something inside you if I pissed you off. And I don't write to make people feel guilty about the way life is on the reservation. I KNOW it's bad here, and maybe I want to others to see it. I want people to know about our history and our plight and our culture as it is today. (In fact, I just got a new camera and will soon be posting a beginner's beading lesson, along with pictures of the reservation.)
But that is why I write, if someone feels guilty and says I make them feel like they should say sorry to every Indian because the government screwed us over, then I AM sorry, sincerely. I know you didn't personally screw us. I know it was your ancestors. And I am truly sorry if I make you feel guilty.
I KNOW it is history and NO I won't forget it already. In fact I write it so my children will know the versions I hear from my elders, not the governments messed up version that call massacres...battles. I write for that. It is IN me to let it be heard. My kids' great grandma gave me one of her indian names "Singing Woman." She said because she wants me heard.
Is it not possible that somewhere buried in my DNA the pain of the history of my people still burns inside of me as bright and heated as a flame?
Is it not possible that because of that spark inside me I feel the need to teach people of life here today?
Is it not possible that that is why so many of us speak of our history like it happened yesterday?
Is it not possible that the importance to carry these stories on is why I write of them?
And is it not possible that maybe somwhere deep in your DNA, you feel guilt, which in turn turns to anger....which makes you lash out at me?
As I said before, I'm sorry you feel that way.
I know how life is here, I'm not leaving because of it. And I won't shut up, or err, stop plucking at the keyboard.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Thought I would bring you a smile today, plus Big Ned reminded me of it.
So here was my kids last Christmas, after the turkey took his revenge. Here is a quote from Kennedy James for that...
"It's the one day of the year that the turkey population takes a shit-kicking. Well, if they had learned to fly, it might not have been so bad for them. Anyway, they get their revenge by drugging everyone into semi-consciousness with tryptophan. And that's a good thing too. People forget what the day was like and sleep soundly."
Note my cool ass vintage lamp in the corner, from a thrift store, one of my favorite favorite possessions besides the three passd out on the couch.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
*pic by my sis and beadwork by me
When I write of life on the reservation, I am not trying to make anyone "feel" guilty.
Everytime you pay taxes, I don't want you to think "Oh those poor indians, there they go taking my money because we screwed them over."
I don't want your pity because those East Coast tribes had bad immigration policies and because gold was found in them thar hills.
We got screwed. We live almost as if we are occupied but we gave up that fight so long ago and accepted being occupied after battling a losing war.
so our land was taken, infested and is gone.
The reason you might feel guilty about it is maybe because you have seen the conditions that we live in and somewhere in your hardened heart or your DNA it made you feel guilty...the same way that in some corner of my heart or in my DNA it still fires me up to know what happened here before my time. Maybe you don't want to know that you feel guilty so you lash out in anger and say hurtful things. Because if you grew up on the reservation, would you move away, forget your people and who you are? I know you didn't make that shady deal that took our people's land.
I tried to move away...all it did was make me want to come home more.
I write of life here, conditions because I think WE have the power to better it, not by asking the government who sends out millions in foriegn aid, I am sure there are other countries out there who "feel" us more than this one.
I don't want anyone to feel guilty for the fact that I live in low income housing, even if I lived in the same type off the reservation.
I'm sorry you pay taxes so I can live here, where I was born and raised.
I pay taxes and I feel guilty too.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
One thing that was constant in my life growing up was Sesame Street. No matter where we moved, we at least had PBS. So I learned my ABC's and limited Spanish from Sesame Street.
Despite having the much cooler Nickelodeon and more hip Cartoon Network, I still try to make my kids watch Sesame Street at that age. Because seriously, all those Pickles' kids taught was to run away and get lost....and to continue the baby talk.
So a few years ago, when I heard some preacher was condemning Bert and Ernie for being gay, I was like "Who thinks like that?"
Then the more I thought about it, I was like well, it's none of my business if they are BUT if they ask why my cousin Bobby is the way he is, I will say "Remember Bert and Ernie?"
So yesterday, as I am screwing around on the computer I heard on CNN, that parents are complaining about Sesame Street because:
- Oscar is too mean.
- Cookie Monster has a bad diet.
- Big Bird is the only one that can see Snuffleupagus.
HUH? Ok I admit, it kinda creeps me out when Snuffy would come out of the shadows saying "Heeey Bird?" Plus he's a mammoth! How dare they make mammoths real when they are extinct! But I guess, since he only comes around when Big Bird is on an acid trip, it's ok for him to be extinct.
Then there's the issue with Cookie Monster! The epitomy of all American's bad diet. I mean it's ok for Mommy to stuff that pack of Chips Ahoy, but not a character who's name is Cookie Monster. And why didn't they mention Grover? Who never eats? He is so obviously anorexic...and dillusional. I mean, he thinks he can fly for cripes sake.
And Oscar, I really don't think he's mean, maybe just a tad anti-social. He probably just has that same thing Rickey Williams has and don't like being around people. Nobody said anything about Elmo's hyper little ass. He is truly nuts to be laughing all the time. Or the fact that those Honk Honk twins give a bad rap to conjoined twins, by just honking all the time and never talking. Or what about Mrs. Piggy dating Kermit, why don't she stick to her own kind?
Ok, so Sesame Street has a whole lot of dysfunctional characters. I mean the average American family is probably more messed up and doped up than that lot I described up there. Don't even let me start with my family.
So Mrs. Nesbitt, or whatever your name is who was complaining...calm down and take your Gas-x, it's a kids show.
Monday, November 19, 2007
"May I use you restroom?" I asked the old man.
He opened his eyes briefly "yeah yeah yeah" He closed his eyes again, somewhere in his mind he was in between the old days and Viet Nam.
I had arrived earlier to bring him some bread and soup. He invited me in to share a beer with him as he told me stories of war, of his youth and the days that ll passed by too quickly in his wine hazed mind.
He never ate the bread or soup, just gave me a beer from a sack by his side and opened his bottle of Muscatel.
He tried to offer me some of his bottle of wine, but I declined.
"Why did you sign up for 3 tours in Viet Nam?" I asked, so curious as to why anyone would want to fight a war so hated by many.
"What else did I have but the Marines? There were no jobs on the reservation. Semper Fi, do or die" he said as he laughed proudly.
He told me of awful things he witnessed, things he was too ashamed to tell, and of a child he left over there in Japan.
"You never seen your daughter over there?"
He shook his head and told me when he went back and found out his girlfriend was pregnant, her family had told him that she had engaged to another and they didn't want anyone to know she was pregnant from an American.
As I walked back through the hallway, I noticed he was passed out and had a picture in his hand. There was a whole box of pictures in front of him.
I slowly looked through the pictures in the box, almost felt like I was invading his privacy. In the snapshost that were never put in an album, I saw youth. Black and white photos of beautiful people smiling. I saw him in high school, looking unsure, maybe he had already signed up for the Marines by then, so he had that look in his eyes already.
I saw pictures of the wife he left behind in America, so young, beautiful, happy to pose fo the camera. The brand new baby he took leave for. I saw the pictures from then on, as they grew older. His wife fell in love with another while he was serving. I saw the look in his eyes change again. I saw her eyes, still hopeful that she would get it right.
I saw pictures of his children with their babies, happy and hopeful for their future.
Then I saw pictures of his wife's funeral. I thought of how she searched for happiness with other men, but in the end she came home to die and he was there for her with the sickness she had.
I saw his whole life in that picture box.
"I don't want my life to be in a box of pictures." I thought, as I walked out of his house.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
See that picture up there, it was taken by a family friend Father Bucko,an anthropologist. I met him in high school. He stayed around these parts long enough to learn our language and then moved onto Creighton University. I think we are the only family with a family priest and none of us are Catholic.
Anyway that picture is of Red Shirt Table, north of here. You drive along on this road and all of a sudden BAM, in the middle of the prairie is that. It is beautiful, kind of like a mini grand canyon. Badlands that were formed during the ice age and are probably loaded with dinosaur fossils. Although fossil hunting here is illegal. Anything found must be turned into the government, who in turn profits from it. Since we are on federal land...which always confuses me, if it is our reservation then why can't we profit from it. Why does the government only get to say who fossil hunts here? Anyway Red Shirt table and the badlands here are beautiful. (even where the bombing range is, where the government used to test bombs back in the day) They survived this long. Someday when they ice cap melts thanks to that aqua net, I spray back in the 80's, we will be the fossils. But among this land lives a proud people whose culture has survived amongst the dinosaur graveyards.
We still have our culture.
That simple sentence up there means the world to me.
I received this package in the mail on Friday, it had been sitting there for like a week. So I finally catch the office when it is open and they find it somewhere in the back. It is addresses to my dad and I. And it says under our names Oglala Sioux Tribe and under that it says U.S.A.
It is from some British guy in Japan. He was on Larry King and GMA and various other shows for walking across the continents or something. He;s a professor. He sent us a DVD of his accomplishments. And showed how he made the government apologize for all they did to Indians in the past. Now mind you it wasn't any bigwig in the government, just a BIA bigwig who apologized on his knees even on behalf of the B.I.A. (Bureau of Indian Affairs.) This apology was never made public or anything...oh well, It's not like we expected it after hundreds of years anyway.
So this guy is all about cultural revival.
And I am thinking.
We have our culture.
Not all of us, because believe me ignorance is everywhere and there are a bunch of ignorant Indians too. People that think the old ways are just that...old.
But when I think of how I always grew up around our religion when I was a kid. I would go to my grandpa's for ceremonies, I have felt the liveliness of the ceremonies, spirits and Inipi, which is a sweat lodge ceremony. I can speak about how ceremonies affected me with the same passion a born again speaks of Christ. It is just our ways. the ways of my people that live on.
Despite the government's ban on our ways, they survived. And it is up to us to keep them going. I am thankful my dad has chosen to take the path that he has to pass it on to the grandchildren. For I could think of no other way I would rather raise my children.
Someday I hope they be just as proud to say...
We have our culture.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Ok this shit is getting out of hand. I can't take it anymore. I have a bathroom, it's pretty much the girls bathroom here. The boys stink up and clean their bathroom with the only shower in the house. I don't mind having the bathtub because I personally prefer taking a bath to taking a shower.
BUT I have to evict you Barbie, this shit ain't right. You LIVE in my bathtub. You don't pay rent. You go around all naked with you hair all wet all the time. you invited all those little Bratz hoochies with no feet over. Next thing I knew you have My Little Pony all up in my tub with all you hooches. Everytime I go to take a bath I have to take you all out and put you in the sink...when I go back in there, you're all in the tub again! Looking like the Tila Tequila show rejects in my tub.
So when I go to dump the kids off at the pool today i look over and see you all passed out, naked with the Bratz hoochies, My Little Pony passed out puking in the drain and then I see her little ghetto ass.
And her monkey Boots. And her backpack backpack backpack is gone. I know the Bratz hoochies jacked her when you all got her drunk. I know we live in the ghetto but leaave Dora out of it.
Barbie you are an evil bitch. If you don't move the hell out of my tub you will die a slow painful death by The Girl. And you seen her kill the other barbies like a Nazi.
So even though The Girl put you there, you must leave. Or She will kill you.
Consider yourself warned
*pic of Barbie and her beav was taken from yahoo image Search from some perv's flickr.*
Thursday, November 15, 2007
I woke up this morning because something woke me up. I lay still and quiet and didn't hear it again. So I didn't bother to open my eyes. Then I heard it again. i was sorta like a low growl and halfway like a moan. Like someone was outside my window with an ax and killer dog. I lay there breathless....trying to force my life to flash in front of my eyes. Thinking my final thoughts. I don't hear the texas chainsaw outside anymore so I take a breath of relief. And...
I hear it again.
From my right nostril. Yup I am stuffy, sinuses screwed up, and I realize that that cold I was avoiding finally caught me.
Anywayz...esterday I went with my aunt out to the trading post to sell some shit. On the way out there I had a BRILLIANT idea! We have a term here on the rez, I am not sure how it is spelled
but it is WaChinko
Which means pout. But we laugh at people who are Wa Chinko...and say where is your Wa Chinko bag.
So I had this idea for a sort of gag gift for office christmas parties around here to sell Wa Chinko bags. Which would be sorta decorated and include kleenex, condoms, wet wipes, a bar of soap, etc.
I will take any suggestions on what to put in these pout bags.
Anywayz...so today I will be busy as hell, tomorrow will be my first time going to sell at the hospital. which is HUGE and full of doctors and nurses who love beadwork. I usually sell to various other programs and stuff around here, but I think this will be fun and hopefully profitable. I even have to go get a permit like thingy to sell there.
Anywayz I have to go bead, I will pop in and out all day but try not to be too charming ok? I really have to bead.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
I watched Bridges Of Madison County the other day. i love that movie...love the Iowa landscape, love Meryl Streep's accent, love the covered bridges, love the story and love the antiques. Anyway in that movie Clint Eastwood says;
"The old dreams were good dreams; they didn't work out, but glad I had them."
So I started thinking back to when I was a child. And all the dreams I had, even as a teenager and young adult. I mean I never stopped having those dreams, even at 35 I still have these dreams like oh someday I will do this, or someday "everyday" won't be a struggle...or someday I will be content.
I don't mean I need money to be content. I don't even know what I mean.
Then I start wondering what content is? Is there such a thing? I mean I can be perfectly content painting, drinking a glass of merlot or strong coffee and thinking about those dreams as I do it.
But will I ever be content with life?
Maybe not, after all I have children. And there will always be that small itty bitty flame of worry as they walk out that front door, even if just to play football.
They have no idea ,even at the age they are, I still watch them every morning from the window ,climb that bus....dreaming new dreams for them.
So maybe all those old dreams didn't work out, I never traveled to too many places or anything. But I am glad I had those dreams, and thankful to what I have done in this 35 years.
At least I know anything was possible in those old dreams and I still dream at 35.
After all what is a life without dreams?
Another great quote about dreams from a movie
"You can take away our phones, you can take away our keys, but you can NOT take away our dreams!" -The guy from Night at the Roxbury.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
So I went shopping on Saturday with my auntie and son. I tried to make them get in the picture but they wouldn't.
So here is how I threw down with the shopping cart.
I am very good at bargaining when I shop. I can smell a clearance sale from a mile away. So first off I will list my purchases directly from my receipts.
From Safeway with my Safeway Savings card I purchased the following:
Emeril's Asian Seasoning on clearance $ .94
Kedem Tea Biscuits .50
Family pack of Chicken Drumsticks 50% off w/card 3.30
Safeway brand plain yogurt .60
ginger root .30 white onion .49
roma tomatoes .55
sweet potato .60
instant oatmeal .98
southwest chili kit on clearance 1.00
mini one time use double chocolate coffee 1.00
6 packages of ramen noodles at 10 cents each .60
sugar packets (raw sugar) .60
small pumpkin pie (on clearance) .35
store brand vinegar .53
Kikkoman soy sauce 1.14
Small can spinach .58
Vienna sausage 1 can .40
Small can mushrooms 1.08
Small can of lima beans .68
5 lbs of rice store brand 2.18
wal mart total $15.97
Wal Mart total $15.97
Safeway total $5.34
Here are some tips- I searched for the smallest veggies, like onion, sweet potato,etc. I also peeled off several cloves of garlic, and cut a piece of the gingerroot off so I could get them to weigh less. I didn't buy any bread because even though I love it, it is not healthy for you and you get hungry like half hour later. Plus everything to go with bread costs way too much, such as PB&J or bologna. I also bought tea with Raw sugar so I can have some caffiene plus the one time use chocolate coffee for my divulgence. The chicken had 14 drumsticks which equal out to two a week so as long as I have stuff to "Flavor" it I should be ok, I can live on small amounts of food as long as I have flavor.
Now had I shopped at the evil empire of a store here on the reservation, it wouldn't have been as healthy or as much. So you do have to count in that it took an hour over, an hour back and an hour or so of shopping. I love challenges with an amount though and this was fun, I won't lie though at the moment I am hungry, my daughter ate my vienna sausages, everyone dipped into my pretzels and I can't find my tea biscuits...I know someone took off with them. Grrrr...
Friday, November 9, 2007
Like I did so many times in past blogs I investigate stuff, but this time this shit is local.
I already blogged today...but I want to get this out to hear the feedback so I can go finish beading and wake up tomorrow and know how to go about this.
You all know these few facts.:
I live on a reservation, not only a reservation but the poorest reservation and county in America with a median income of $2,600 per year with an 85 to 95% unemployment rate. I already blogged that. I got this info from an online article called The Arrogance of Innocence by Stephanie M. Schwartz.
As I said, I already blogged this and I am sick of this shit. I am sick of the conditions I see around here. I even said I was sick of nobody doing anything about it.
So even though this is a small thing, here is what I did today.
I go and check my mail...I get a flyer from the only grocery store here. I see a flyer for a 3 day sale on the 8th, 9th and 10. I show my auntie, I was like "I can't believe it, they are having a sale on the 10th!" Not that I really shop there, I go out of town, but sometimes I have to. So my auntie says "No way." She needs vinegar from the store so we go and we see a huge sign on the outside that says "3 Day Sale Nov 7th,8th, and 9th." I was like "WHAT THE FUCK?"
My auntie was like "See I told you they wouldn't have a sale on the 10th, they do that to us every month."
See, EBT day or food stamp day is on the 10th. And you know with the median income around here almost everybody and their mama gets some.
When we walk in there is a guy in produce giving out free samples of sour ass oranges on sale. So my auntie asks him as I am trying to choke down the sour ass orange "So why does the flyer say the sale is on the 8th,9th, and 10th when your sign out there has it a day earlier?"
He smiles at her and says "You know how it is around here, they do that so you can't buy anything cheap on EBT day."
"Thats just wrong." she says.
So I go home fuming.
I dial up the happy ass manager, well first I have to get through a buncha (copyright Ant) chicks with attitudes who are nutty enough to say yes it is because of EBT. Anyway I ask the manager WHY WHY WHY?
He is like "Oh we always do that."
I was like "WHY?"
He was like "We would just rather pick the 7th, 8th, and 9th...it has been on our calendar for a month. "
So I was like "IF you knew for a month and changed it that long ago, then why send the flyers to every household on the rez saying otherwise."
He said "That's just how we do things here. We don't even see those flyers...do you have a copy to show me?"
I was like "One of your workers told me it was because of EBT benefits."
He was like "Well sure, we will be busy that day."
So I said "So you say you will be busy, so you can't possibly have a sale to attract more people when you know damn well there will be hundreds of happy Indians in your store anyway? Are you sure your not taking advantage of us and gouging the food stamps?"
He was getting irritated by now and said "Listen bring me the flyer, I will show you the calendar so you can see Miss, what did you say your name was?"
"My name is Dana, I write for The Lakota Times, I will be in in the morning."
"Uh...excuse me...what did you say"
"I said I will be in in the morning."
"No before that."
"I said my name is Dana and I write for The Lakota Times, I will see you tomorrow."
""Ok" he says and I swear, I hear him gulp. I love playing that media card.
So then I have to wait for a ride to go and take a picture of the sign. Finally when I get down there, I see the sign. It now says
4 Day Sale Nov 7th,8th,9th, and 10th.
I smiled and left. I still got some issues I want to bring up to him, like why the prices are more there than in PoDunk and the other border town when clearly the rez store is the biggest one and has more traffic and they are both owned by the same country club going,golf swinging dude in Cali.
I can't believe no one stood up and said something before. My uncle once said "writing about something and doing something are two different things." Maybe so and maybe nothing will change next month. After all, they have no competition and we are at their mercy.
But at least thanks to me, people can get their ice cream for 2 bucks on Saturday and whatever else is on sale.
Don't think I haven't been online all night on that companies website looking at their shit, though. I'm going in guns loaded.
(I will take any advice anyone has to offer.)
Thursday, November 8, 2007
While going through my many posts from 360 looking for one in particular, I ran across a post where I quoted Hafiz, the Persian Poet from the 1300's. I love all things Persian and the culture and food have had me captivated since I was a young girl from my step dad and his family and friends.
Hafiz Shiraz was left in debt with his mother when his father died. He lefto school to work in a bakery. when he was delivering bread in the rich section of town, he fell in love with the most beautiful woman he laid his eyes upon and begin writing poetry for her.
Though he married another, he lived his life dreaming and writing poetry for his true love.
He became quite famous in his 20's and 30's for his spiritually romantic poetry. I guess that is another thing i find so fascinating about Persians is how deeply rooted they are to their spirituality. They are not all the terrorist radicals the media makes them out to be...for the most part they are protective of what is theirs and passionate about their spirituality.
Kind of like how my people were. well, we are still deeply rooted in our spirituality and protective, I guess. The reporters that came down thsi summer had no idea we were so "into" our religion in this day and age. I guess it amazes me that it survived even throught the whole time it was banned up until 1978.
Anyway Hafiz has over 500 ghazals which I love going through. to this day the ghazals are still used to give guidance to our questions and to give direction to our wishes.
Anyway this is the one I saw today on my old 360, that I posted back in September of 2005. To this day I still look at it in amazement and just love love it.
O pious of the heart, I am lost in a love, so great
O pain the hidden secrets will become open debate.
Shipwrecked we just float, O favorable wind arise
May we one more time gaze upon the familiar trait.
Passage of time and the stars, are but what we fantasize
For compassion and kindness, it is never too late.
*note-that is only part of a ghazal, I don't remember which.
For more on Hafiz got to
( not the blog i planned today but i don't want to move 750 blogs all at once)
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
I have no reason for doing this other than wanting to get in words about the person George was. So I will always remember him. When you grow up and have friends that are friends for life in your youth, you feel bad when you drift apart from them. Then you meet someone who shows you what life is to them.
George was a handsome Ben Affleck look alike.
He was always happy...always.
His mom married into a family that soon becamse wealthy. Her husband raised George and his sister Pam. Soon everyone in that family, except George, his sister, and his mom recieved a monthly per capita check from their casino. Hid George ever feel bad about that? No, never.
He worked as a black jack dealer for awhile before he was fired. Then he worked as a bell at the tribe's casino. Not even caring when every laughed at his safari style uniform, complete with a safari hat.
His nickname was Curious George or even Curious. He had a tattoo of Curious George with a war bonnet and tomahawk on his arm. He embraced and owned his nickname.
I remember one night we was all partying at the bar by the Casino and then we all decide to go to the beach. George had joked to take his boat across the lock and dam to make it for last call at the bar in Wisconsin. I remember we was trying to get his attention at the beaach and we kept saying "George! Curious!" but he was too into his current chick.
So my then bf said "The man in the yellow hat!"
George stood straight up and said "I still can't find that fucker!"
He was always laughing and smiling. When we worked together at the bowling alley as the waitstaff he always made more in tips than everyone else, because he was so happy all the time. He never forgot a face or a drink. He never failed to help someone out. One time at the bar he couldn't get nobody to dance with him so he danced on the dance floor all by himself to Tom Petty's "You don't know how it feels." I remember watching him and thinking, man he is living life.
The night he tried to do a u turn in front of a semi was his last night. His little brother was with him and a limo driver for the casino was one of the first on the scene. The limo driver said George was crying to him telling him to get his little brother out of the car. He helped George pull Nate out of the wreck and had just finished when the paramedics pulled up.
Thats when the limo driver noticed George in the drivers seat, he had died upon impact, they said. There was no way he could have made it out the wreckage to help pull his brother out.
I will always remember George as the free spirit who never had a half empty glass and never failed to help someone out.
Before I left Minnesota I put a Curious George toy on his grave. I think he would have liked that.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Yesterday-I was jumping in all the leaves my dad just raked and throwing them up in the air. Travis was laughing and my dad, instead of getting mad jumped in with us.
Yesterday my Aunt Cathy and her friend got high while they were baby-sitting me. I don't know exactly what I did to make them laugh so much, but I was a star.
Yesterday I would go on the adventure of walking to the store to buy penny candy with my aunt's. Then we would have a picnic on the BIA gass.
Yesterday my brother and I would play guns in the dried out creek bed behind Grandma Coba's house. I would look at it and wonder where the water went and how it looked when it had water.
Yesterday I would lay out in the lawn all night with my friend Andrea and we would look at the stars and dream big of leaving the reservation.
Yesterday I knew I would grow up and have children. I would imagine my wedding a hundred different ways.
Yesterday I was the shy girl at school who fell in love with the quarterback.
Yesterday I knew at age 20 I was ready for the boy I gave birth to with the big eyes from the quarterback who wasn't a quarterback anymore.
Yesterday they told me I had a girl, she was beautiful. I named her Justice.
Yesterday I finally got my house and moved my kids back to the reservatrion I dreamed of leaving when I was a young girl.
Yesterday, I was proud to be Lakota.
Today is just another day, but where did all this time go.
Monday, November 5, 2007
He was a difficult person to get along with in "everyday" life.
He would argue with you over the price of apples until you gave up. Just for the sake of winning an argument.
Against all odds, he completed law school while working as a dishwasher and janitor.
He returned home to the reservation to try and make a difference.
He ran for tribal president at age 32 and didn't get past the primaries because of the fact of his youth, inexperience in tribal politics, and a small stint he had in the past as an American Indian Movement activist at Yellow Thunder Camp in the Black Hills.
He moved on after losing the election, married for the second time in his life. He raised two children all while creating more wonderful children.
He worked. and worked.
He sold his soul to tribal politics, but not to his tribe.
He worked amonst many other tribes as their lawyer and advocate for Indian Gaming.
He still remembered the days of being a radical....an activist for the rights of Indians. He remembered marching and hoping someday it would mean something to someone.
He still worked for the rights of Indians everywhere, but it wasn't the same.
He probably hoped someday something he did would matter to someone.
In fact, I think that he wanted nothing more than to hope that somehow he made a difference somewhere to someone in this world.
So when he left this world on November 4th of last year, I wished I could have told him that he did make a difference in my life.
*For my stepdad Robert and in honor of my new nephew Wyatt Robert born this year on November 2nd.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Friday, November 2, 2007
Ok when I decided to do this blog on confessions, because I seen others do it, I decided to go back to the first thing I wanted to confess. I realized I have alot to confess. The roots of evil were planted long ago. I have already confessed to the lawn ornament theft of last year....well I was exposed.
- Anyway I will start at the age of 5 and this confession goes to my brother. When I told you to swing from that vine and yell like Tarzan...I knew it was a stereo....a big ass stereo from the 70's and I knew the vine was the cord. Hey you turned out ok and have an amazing tolerance for pain to your head, right?
- To the little boy in 1st grade, Greg. When we moved to the city and you told everyone I was a "dirty indian." I wrote your name all over everyone's desk with the crayons you stole from me. I stole them back and walked by after school to watch you scrub your name off the desks. I smiled when you cleaned after this "dirty indian." *lilbitch*
- To another boy in 1st grade...Mark. When you kissed me on the playground and said you liked me. I am sorry I screamed, cried, and ran. I really did like you and your blue eyes and I think our children would have been beautiful.
- In second grade, to my grandma...I took your poodle...MR. Bo Jangles or was it Jingles to school and he danced for everyone and then molested my friend's cat.
- In 4th grade to my teacher Mr. Collins. Everytime you turned your back I sent you death rays and death thoughts but my super powers were not fully developed...I heard of your untimely death and I am sorry if the powers wore you down. I think of you all the time down there.
- In 5th grade.....to our dearly departed neighbors. Your dog Puppy Joe did NOT crap that much in your yard. Me and my brother had to pick up the crap in our yard with one of those long handled pooper scooper and we par-red up into your yard. Your roof was hole in one.
- In 6th grade, this confession is to the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. I only went to church because I had a crush on the Pastor's son. Forgive me.
- In 7th grade, to my friend Missy....every time I had a crush on someone you and your Daryl Hannah looks made a play for them. So when I said I liked that butt ugly guy at camp with the same name as me...I only did it to make you go out with him while I crushed on the pastor's son. I thought it was funny to see you hold that ugly guys hand though.
- To all the girls at Bible Camp in the "Big Girls" dorm. It was me who put the frogs in your beds, purses, showers, and toilets. God wasn't dammning you and I was surprised to see that none of you noticed my bed and purse untouched and unfrogged
- To my brother Trav again...when you gave me the Wrist Rocket sling shot to defend us against those "bad guys." You should have taught me how to aim. That dirt clod that blasted your head was me. But hey, it sent you into a rampage that scared them away.
- To one of my best tippers when I bartended...Tony the Butcher. I never went on that second date with you because everytime I said something you said "riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight!" Like the Fonz said "Heeeeeey." You even said it when I purposely said something wrong. Hey thanks for all the meat, steaks and other stuff....me and my kids enjoyed.
- To my kids, sorry I make you get me the remote even when I am closer. My mom did it to me, it is a vicious circle.
- To my mom and step dad.....the red paint on the front of the van....that was me. I know you argued over it, but you made me take Travis dinner and yeah, that is all I will say.
- To my brother Trav....I know you ain't with this chick anymore but when she asked who Susan was because you called her that in your sleep...I didn't mean to tell her it was your ex, or that she was your true love...you guys should have told me you was all lying about it. I am not a narc.
- To my brother Jesse....last week....I was the one who wrote "Wash Me Bitch" in the dust on the hood of your car....but it gave it some charm. Oh yeah...and sorry to all the siblings that got blamed.
Ok I have to end there........I will not confess up anymore details to anything for fear of prosecution. I plan to take the 5th if there are any further questions. Oh I am free...the burden is off of me.
Oh yeah thanks to everyone who stood up yesterday....nice to meet you. Hope you stay awhile. You can still comment, you know. To all others...that orgy was uncalled for, you know who you guilty ones are.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
I make no secret of being poor. To me it really doesn't mean anything to me except that I have to work a little harder to get my bills paid and crap like that. I buy alot of stuff second hand and people are always giving me and my kids things. Like last week some nice lady from
Wisconsin gave each of us a comforter, 5 comforters in all and she has no idea how much easier she made it for us. I don't ask for things, I never do. I know people who say "Can you help us out, we are poor." I hate that.
But I don't look at being poor as a status or a class issue.
I just think that in this life here on Earth some people have everything and some people go without....not everyone cn be rich. Besides, to me money is for paying bills, buying neccisties like shampoo, pine sol, laundry soap etc. All the little things you need in life that sometimes we have to go without for a week or two. But it's ok because there are so many people that have it worse, like my neighbors behind me who live in a trailer without electricity and they have a wood stove to give them light at night and keep them warm. They grill outside and sometimes I make them soup...usually at the end of the month when I am running low on groceries, they will bring their rations over and I make soup and we all share. That is what being a neighbor is, looking out for one another.
I don't get a monthly government check, not in South Dakota. I would rather make my beadwork and not have to worry about the million and one hoops they put out for welfare recipients to jump through.
I never recieved child support because honestly they make it too hard to abtain that. I don't know if anyone ever filled out that questionaire form but its about a book long and it asks all kinds of personal questions about the mother's (moi) sex life. And PLEASE, that is my business. I always think somewhere in those state child support offices some pervo's getting off on all those questionaire's of the babies mamas sex lives.
So I never went that route. I think they should do the same for the fathers.
I wouldn't know if they did.
I do however get food stamps. Which never last the whole month...we are lucky if they last over half the month. What I hate about getting food stamps is that all the stores around here put the same bullshit for sale when food stamps come out and everything else goes sky high. I study prices, I watch like a hawk.
The only grocery store we have on the reservation will have some good slaes until food stamps come out and then the only things on sale are bread, bologna, ramen noodles, and generic chips. No wonder the diabetes rate around here is some ghastly number like 500% higher than the rest of the nation.
Also the store we have on the reservation is owned by a corparate from California. They also own store in nearby off reservation towns, one of them being PoDunk. What gets me is the price gouging I see happening at all three stores. For example: a bottle of soy sauce here in PoDunk is $1.69 but on te reservation it is $2.05. Same brand, the generic store brand but .36 cents higher on the reservation. Or when I was up here in PoDunk this summer I bought a bottle of laundry soap on sale with a special "on sale" label that said $3.99. I go back to the reservation, have to buy the same soap (Era) and it has the same on sale label, but when I get closer I notice it is $4.99.
Anyways, I am getting off track here...
So when people ask me "How do you run out of food stamps when you get so much?" I just laugh and say "You try feeding these kids." But for real, I feed 3 boys and one girl. Tow of my boys are teenagers, but the youngest one Stephon we call Snack Attack...he has no control and we have to ration snacks and hide stuff. He is the only known member of my extended family that can eat two indian tacos in a row.
So I was kind of pleased when I opened the newspaper *The Rapid City Journal* and seen this article. "Food Banks Issue Challenge: Can You Survive For a Week on $3 a Day?"
That is the amount each person recieves per day for 30 days per month. So when people think that someone who gets food stamps should stretch it, I will tell you this...you can stretch it more than Rosie O' Donnel stretches her panites...it don't last. No matter how much you budget it still doesn't last. When I read the article I laughed at the end because they share some "affordable recipes" I laughed because there is no way in hell I will eat carrot raisin salad as a meal. I can budget one chicken into two suppers for my kids, but we still run out.
I was happy to see the challenge because I would like to see someone do it, and no cheating and eating Ramen for a week...lol.
They (South Dakota Social Services) said they issued the challenge becaus ethey are tired of seeing their programs getting bad raps.
Well, you know me, I always give (them) a bad rap...but I would like to see someone take this challenge and I will also be watching on the challenge blog here. www.sdchallenge.blogspot.com
So do you think you can eat on three bucks a day?