Just Got Home

On Wednesday Khalid drove to Tulsa to pick me up, and we got home today at around 5pm. I am completely and utterly exhausted; it seems every little task is fifty times more difficult, and since I'm not really on top of my game, I still usually fuck things up and when I do I either start yelling incoherent phrases, beating inanimate objects or crying, hiccups included. Looking over documents and papers is tedious. The mere thought of making dinner is liable to send me into panic mode. I feel like a small child trying to tie her shoes, screaming "LEMME DO IT MOM!" And the mom, not unlike everyone around me, is just sitting there using every ounce of strength not to physically subdue the child and tie her kid's shoes for god's sake because we can't be late and get in the god damn car already!

Before this happened, sleeping until 8 in the morning was regarded as "sleeping in," but now I can easily sleep until 10 or later. I have also recently been taking several small naps in a day, or one big one. It's hard for me to get to sleep, and to stay that way once I'm there, because there are just so many things floating through my little head. Like, one of my favorites is, "Dude, your dad just died." Not even kidding. I call myself "dude" in my own thoughts.

I don't know how I'm going to get through this semester, although I did end up registering for all online classes. I imagine there will be days that getting out of bed will be too much to ask, so hopefully this will help things out a bit. I worry though, because by now, the end of the first week of classes, I would have had the assignment calendars memorized, at least 20 separate discussion board conversations going, and at the least, all documents for every class put in protective transparent plastic 3-hole folders and placed in their respective binders.

I'll keep you updated. Thanks for all the good thoughts you've been sending, and sorry that I haven't been the most receptive person lately.

Micah

My Father Died.

Khalid and I were in Mexico, and I woke up to fifty-gazillion missed calls. All from my mom. All right after each other. Of course I called immediately, and of course I get shoved to voicemail. I couldn't reach anyone, and what went through my head first was that my grandmother had died; she is 91, and they've been saying she has a week to go for about 6 years. But it was my dad.

53. Heart attack. I think he drank himself to death, and from some of the things I've found, like emails and weird notes around the house, it sounds like at least he expected it.

My parents were in the process of a divorce, and dad was still living in the house as my mother chose to move in with her mother who suffers from Alzheimer's. After he died, my dad wasn't found for two or so days, and I think the thing that gets me the most is that he was here, alone. Did he collapse in excruciating pain? Did he lay there attempting to crawl to the phone, struggling to breathe?

Of what are we scared when it comes to death? The majority of people I have asked concur that dying alone is the most horrifying. Nobody to hold your hand, to let you know that it's okay to go, to give you a peaceful smile or to simply be present.

I have only cried once, simply because there's been so much to do. Every once in awhile I'll find myself going down the roller coaster hill as it just hits me out of nowhere, but the mere possibility of not being able to recover after a crying spell is too much to bear, and I push it down, push it down, until I remember what it is I was doing before being a pussy got in the way.

This last week has been spent going through his things. Now, going through your father's things during a time while he was going through a divorce is not easy. I have the exciting task of trying to get to things before my mother sees them, such as condoms and pictures of other women. I find it's easier to ignore the emotion of it all because I'm having to shield my mother, and that really takes up the majority of my energy. The one thing that keeps popping up in everything I find is me. My pictures are everywhere, he has saved cards I made him in pre-school and has kept them in his desk at work for 30 years. I found a CD of the first opera I was in, and I even noticed that his "Favorite singer?" is "Micah," as it's one of his security questions for his bank account.

The one thing nobody would dare argue about my father- he loved me more than himself, thought I was the most perfect being on this earth and would have stabbed anyone in the face that thought otherwise.

Well, dad, god damn it, I love you too.

Micah

Get Together - July 7

As most of you know, I'm having a little get together at my place. Anyone can come- the more, the better! All I ask is that people bring a side dish, since I won't know exactly how many are coming and won't know how much food to make!

It's going to be a hamburger and hot dog thing- nothing big, although Khalid is going to smoke some kick ass brisket. I'm going to make margaritas and do a ton of baking, so please don't bring desserts. But, you can bring beer! We like beer. A lot.

Bring your children, and let them wear their swimsuits- we have one of those inflatable pools so they can have fun while we're cursing and being disrespectful toward each other. But don't worry- the pool's only 3' deep, so as long as they're not sippin' tequila they should be fine.

So far, I have kids from the age of 3 to 16 coming, so I think everyone will have someone to play with.

Oh! If you have camp chairs, please bring them.

Saturday, July 7
~2pm~
Mapquest

Si necesitas mas informacion, por favor escribe un email a micahmaranda@hotmail.com.

Gracias!!

Criminally Unjust

As the coffee began to awaken my brain (sometimes it never happens, that's why this blog is called casually conscious), I decided to do some generalized research on criminal justice in the United States and its perpetually indisputable racism.

One out of every 32 U.S. adults was either in jail, on probation or on parole at the end of last year, according to the Justice Department which is the highest rate of any industrialized nation. And although less than 15% of the u.s. population is black, they constitute a disproportionate 50% of incarcerated prisoners.

It’s easy to fall back on the stereotypes ingrained in our heads since birth, especially if we’re white, and especially if we’ve ever watched television. It’s easier to accept stereotypes because you don’t have to think, and why would you want to think about something that has nothing to do with you? Thank God all of The Blacks live in the ghetto, except for that one that moved in a couple of houses down. I just know my kids won’t be playing in the front yard anymore; you can never be too cautious.

But see, it does have something to do with us. These stereotypes make us fearful, which in turn makes us restrict our children’s activities, keeping them from possible interaction with the Black neighbor and his children, which subconsciously reinforce the stereotypes. Mommy is anxious when black people are around, so I learn to become anxious. Pavlov’s dog.

Enough about my opinions, will I ever shut up? How can I when my first page of hits leads me to random insidious drivel from our B/F/Fs, the Reds. This brought me to a story I remember- have you heard of William Bennett? He is the former Secretary of Education and was in the media quite a bit a couple of years ago.

Let me refresh your memories, Dear Readers.


Mr. Bennett hosts a radio talk show for three hours every morning, and has for years. Before that he was the head of the National Endowment for the Humanities during the Reagan administration, then went on to be the Secretary of Education. His last major stint in government was the position of Director in the Office of National Drug Control Policy. Long story short? This guy made a lot of decisions that affected a ton of people.

Now that I've set the stage, the following is an excerpt from his radio show from late 2005, during which he addressed a caller's suggestion that the lost revenue from the people who have been aborted in the last 30 years would be enough to preserve Social Security's solvency. Referring to the book Freakonomics, Bennett uses the authors’ argument that abortion has decreased overall crime rates due to the aborted fetus' likelihood of being raised “poor and in single-parent or teenage-parent households.” You think that's bad? Read on.

Bennett goes on to give a more detailed example of how abortion can diminish crime, you know, something that resonates with his listeners.

“If you wanted to reduce crime ... if that were your sole purpose,” he declared, “you could abort every black baby in this country, and your crime rate would go down." Bennett conceded that aborting all African-American babies "would be an impossible, ridiculous, and morally reprehensible thing to do," but then added again, "but the crime rate would go down." (Listen here)

What scares the living shit out of me isn't that this guy spreads his neolithic views across hundreds of public radio stations, every morning for three hours, after which millions use this fascist’s proselytization to justify their bigoted agendas, but that he's SO POPULAR he not only maintains his following but (curiously) expands it as well.

Completing the cycle, look at the crack-cocaine sentencing, where you need 500 times the amount of cocaine for the same sentence you get for crack. With these kinds of laws, the powers-that-be know they’ve discriminated against the Black community. Yay, Office of National Drug Control Policy that's run by Guys Like That.

Oh, and not something I necessarily want to write about, but I had to give you some more pic goodness- This book? Yeah, written by Mr. Fat Fuck Himself. He deserves to be hanged by his own intestines.

Ever-Changing and Loving It

I’m so glad to have grown up when I did. Although there is still a tremendous amount of bigotry and hatred in this world, I am part of a generation that’s making changes in perceptions worldwide. I have to look at it that way, or else I’ll cry myself to sleep every night. Speaking of generations, this is my mom, grandmother and me. I wish I had a damn baby to extend it to four generations. I guess we can pretend and say that my freaking chicklet teeth are babies.

I grew up in a white Midwest town where people used the “N” word without hesitation, including my grandmother who still says it. I grew up saying the word, and amazingly enough, I never knew it was a bad thing to say. It was just what they were called. I was so oblivious to the rest of the world. How could I pay attention when my friends were having sex in 7^th grade and there was more peer pressure to drop out of school than there was academic pressure to go to college? I’m ashamed, but I have to accept all that was to change all that will be.

My boyfriend in the picture is a Palestinian Muslim. I shouldn’t really have to point out why that is such an eyebrow raiser seeing how you probably just read the previous paragraph…

God, Allah, The Elephant With the Arms, et al...

In a sociology class, we had to answer all these questions about how religion has changed in the United States. Growing up with it shoved down my throat, the only change I saw was that when I lived in bigger cities, people just didn't care as much. Sometimes it still takes me by surprise to see some Muslim women wearing hijeb (the headscarf) or the burqua (the full-body covering). I try not to stare, I really do, but I still can't look away. I respect them so much for having the balls to be so different in a country where we publicly denounce their religion.

Speaking of Muslim women, I saw this beautiful girl with her two children (although I wouldn't have guessed her being older than 19) as I was walking into Sam's Club. Living in a bigger city gives me all sorts of photo opportunities, it's just a matter of opening your eyes to the differences that surround you. But I couldn't help thinking, if she would have strolled into Super Dooper Wal-Mart where I’m from, time woulda just stopped, and you would hear little smacking sounds from all the mothers scolding their precious white children for looking at such heathens.

I went home for a weekend recently, and it just seems like everybody’s on the world wide web. I haven’t checked out the site yet, and I don’t know why, because I sure am curious what churches other than Landover Baptist put on their websites.

Our Failing Education System

This is a library in an elementary school in the neighborhood I grew up in. And I took a picture of the wall with the books on it.

Health Care Starts at Quik Trip

Now really- how in the world can any health care system keep up with all the damage we do to ourselves voluntarily on a daily basis? I know, I can't resist a stuffed breadstick either, but I'm just sayin'.

Money is Great and/or Sucks

Ahh, familiarity. Friday is the day during which Muslims come together and pray- it’s like Christian Sunday. So, in Dubai, where this picture was taken, Thursday is the night to celebrate the end of the week. I just can’t understand why it’s not T.A.I. Thursday’s, as they pray to Allah, but I’m sure it has something to do with the fact that Dubai is THE LAS VEGAS STRIP OF THE FREAKING DESERT, strippers and sleaze included.

Okay. So this isn’t a call center in Pakistan. But it is the 25’ high CEMENT WALL WITH SNIPER TOWERS that Israel is building in order to separate themselves from those sneaky little Arabs. Guess who’s funding this global injustice? The good ol’ United States.

Doesn't anyone remember how great it was to see the Berlin Wall being torn down on live television? I was only a child, but I still remember crying while watching it. Ronald Reagan would be ashamed of his Republicans now.

Politics. Now Shut Up.

In Denver, our congresswoman, Diana DeGette, was a central figure in the gay pride parade, and it was awesome. She roots for all minorities no matter what. Well, I guess unless you’re like, a child molester or something. I can be almost certain that she does not support those kinds of minorities.

This was taken in San Francisco at one of the many anti-war protests. Turns out, this guy loves guns, and loves them because of his military training in the Marines. He said that all it took was for him to see frightened children in Afghanistan to decide to get out. He has finished school because of the military and is now using that knowledge and power to fight against them. Wonderful!!

Dear Mr. President,

I hate you, You hate me,

Go Fuck Yourself.

Love,

The Masses

My Community. Changed it Has Not.

I grew up in a gemeinschaft community, however, I was not a part of it. My parents were my community, and that was it. Our town stuck together because they were Southern Baptists, and anyone who wasn’t just weren’t accepted. I wasn’t.

I would say that growing up, our town produced tradition-directedness, as everyone did just what they had been doing for the last few generations. Men worked, women stayed at home (the unfortunate ones had to work), and they all got together on Sunday for church and good food. I don’t know if my perspective changed because I was more conscious of myself, or because the town was actually changing, but as I got older, I noticed people becoming more aware of what their neighbors were doing; they were other-directed individuals, and it seemed they were engulfing the town.

An old picture of a couple living in the same part of the country as my mom did when she dropped out of school in the 8^th grade to pick cotton.

Remember Route 66? Here it is. It smells like burning tires and farts here, because this road is surrounded by oil refineries and the Arkansas River, which in this neck of the woods is just a hole in which we can throw sewage.