“I can’t believe we put it off until today, and then we couldn’t do anything because Elaine runs out to apologize to a virgin, crosses against a light, and knocks over a Chinese delivery boy.”

kino

I got nothing for Christmas this year.  (It’s because I told everyone I’m not celebrating Christmas.)  I’m holding out for Easter because I find it far more impressive.  Babies are born to virgins all the time, (she said, sardonically.)  Zombies, however, are supposedly rare, (outside our imaginations.)  Jesus Christ is the best zombie ever.  Can I get an amen?  Please note, I’m using white privilege (facetiously) when making these statements by assuming everyone in America, (or an English speaking country) is Christian.  Growing up in America means automatic indoctrination to the Christian faith to some degree, but we worship the way taught, the way we choose, or not at all, (when allowed.)

The only people in America who haven’t been tainted by white privilege are children.  (Very young children.)  There may be other small groups who are incredibly insular, as well.  White privilege is more complicated than the name reveals.  I’m black, but I’m also American.  I’m currently exorcising WP from my thought processes.  I don’t allow myself to resent this necessary transformation because everyone I know has the same burden.  I have friends who are Canadian, Scottish, and British who are also reprogramming their minds to eliminate their contribution to this serious problem in the western world.

I’m still identifying problematic thinking as I go.  It’s disturbing every time.  It hurts a lot to realize I’ve been unwittingly contributing to the repression of people of color.  I’m one of them.  I initially thought it meant I was off the hook.  As if.  Unless you’re Amish, you probably bear this burden too, regardless of race.  I was raised in South Dakota by Caucasian parents, to boot.  It’s a painful and possibly lengthy process, but I’m committed with all my heart.

I’m just trying to make it through this life without contributing to The Pain.  There’s too much as it is.  If I can lessen it, I’ll consider myself a smashing success.  I’ll also strut around like I’m Wanda Sykes, probably.  (I’m excellent at celebrating (any of) my accomplishments.  It seems prudent.)  I’m having a blast in Denver.  I love it here.  So does M.  I think he’s in the early stages of considering a move.  Oddly, it doesn’t frighten me at all.

It’s possible I’m second-hand high (from a recent visit with an adult relative.)  It just occurred to me.  I bet any stoners who read this are thinking, “I began suspecting a few paragraphs back.”  Heh.  I don’t think Stevie Nicks would be upset if she knew I got high accidentally.  I don’t use drugs period, (which is what I believe she would advise me if she knew I existed.)   I witnessed her saying the same anti-drug message from her own lips, more than three times in different HD videos on YouTube.  (That’s how I sift out the bullshit.)

I forgot what I wanted to blog about.  Sorry about how weird this post is.  (A little.  Heh.)  Oh, right!  My girl, Keia, from the Gettin’ Grown podcast, said she can’t recall ever being called the n-word to her face.  It knocked me over and said booyah!  It never occurred to me this was possible on earth.  It makes me so happy I cried a little.  Now I’m going to celebrate this beautiful fact.  She’s a lot younger than me (from her perspective, probably.)

So that’s what made me want to share.  If so inclined, drink one for Keia’s journey, (+10 if you thought of Kino’s Journey.)  May she, and all yet to exist, always be spared.  Cheers.  💜 (Walks away, singing Zombie, by The Cranberries.)