Brain Eating Zombies

Meredith and I were playing tug of war tonight with her blanket (her "kibby" - long story about the origins of that one. Just take it at face value.). She is so animated and creative, she just cracks me up.

Anyway, we're playing tug of war, saying, "My kibby." "No, MY kibby." "No, MY kibby!!" Finally, I took the kibby away from her and laid down on the couch, throwing it over my body and pretending to snore, which then started the I'll-pretend-to-sleep-with-the-kibby-while-you-try-to-steal-it game. On about round 6 of that game, I'm pretending to be asleep and Meredith takes the kibby, wraps it around her shoulders, puts both of her hands up in a claw-like formation, bulges out her eyes, and says, "Brains!! Brains!! Brains!!" I don't know whether to play along with a little scream or laugh, so I do both. I put my hands up over my face and she says, "Oh no! The sun is out! Now I'm melting into a pile of green goo!" Then she proceeds to do this whole melting sequence, reminescent of The Wizard of Oz. Very convincing. She does this for a few rounds, then decides to play "mommy" to my "daughter" and says, "Honey, the reason why the monster keeps coming back is because you're not sweeping up the goo. I'll get the broom." She then proceeds to sweep it all up, put the kibby over my shoulders, pat me on the back and tell me everything is going to be okay.

And sometimes at the end of the day, that's what we're all looking for. When the monsters attack us, the brain eating creditors, the hair raising demands of work, school, and family, the scream-inducing terror of feeling like a captain whose ship is lost at sea, whose crew is looking to you for guidance, every so often we need that reassurance that only a warm blanket and a kind hand can give us, a gentle kiss from small lips telling you that it will be alright. For some that reassurance comes from God, for others it's friends or family. We all need it. Our little acts of kindness for family, friends, and strangers may provide them the reassurance they need. So - bring on those brain eating green gooey zombie monsters - my kibby and my daughters will protect me!!

Long Night's Journey Into Day

I watched a documentary last night on apartheid in South Africa and The Truth and Reconciliation Commission's work, granting amnesty for some of the perpetrators of violence. This commission only granted amnesty hearings to people whose crimes were politically motivated, and the hearings were much like "trials", to determine if those asking for amnesty would receive it. It was a powerful thing. The documentary follows four different stories, four out of 22,000. If only we had had the foresight for this sort of commission after WWII. I was truly amazed. The chair of the commission is Archbishop Desmond Tutu.

I know this post is disjointed and seemingly rambling, but these stories have been on my mind, especially Thapelo Mbelo. It's a long story, but he struck me as a Judas figure, one who will truly be cursed for selling his own blood, his own "brothers". I'm puzzled by his actions, and yet I'm not. In a way he's another victim, a victim of the white empirical fist that has been plundering, raping, imprisoning Africa since time forgotten. Watching the Boers in action was like watching an old soldier reliving his "glory days", a sad symbol of a bygone (hopefully!!!) era - much like Faulkner's Emily Grierson rotting away in her old Southern home.

Just my thoughts. . . I'm still working on what I'm trying to say, to formulate my feelings and it's hard. I need to look up my friend Lovingson, who promised I could visit his home in Zimbabwe when he returns. Perhaps that would clear my head. . .

http://www.doj.gov.za/trc/trccom.htm
http://www.irisfilms.org/longnight/ln_gugu.htm

My Secret Shame. . .

I have something I want to say, no matter how hard it is. It's a problem of mine, a problem shared by millions of Americans. It all started so innocently about a month ago or so. It's a trend that has become popular within the last few years. Even as long as five years ago, I dabbled a little, but it never got to be an addiction. I could always quit whenever I wanted, no problem. And when I did partake, I kept it a secret - no one knew. Or I did it when other people were doing it, engaging socially, if you will. But a mere month ago all that changed. I started slow, saying I would stop and no one would be the wiser. I laughed it off. Now, it's a full fledged addiction. I lost two hours on Tuesday. I lost another two hours this evening. And I feel like I have to reach out to someone, see if I can get some help. I know I'll be back at it tomorrow though.

That's right, I watch American Idol. I'm so ashamed. I have jumped on the band wagon with total and utter abandon. I know the contestant's names. I root for a few of my favorites. I bash Paula Abdul and cheer Simon. I'm hoping that now it's out in the open, I can move on, quit being ashamed. Everyone else is watching it, right? It's just good to know I'm not alone. *sniff*sniff*

More musings

I have been blogging somewhere else, but I've decided to do some "cross-posting", especially since I may be freer and a little more anonymous here and keep this particular blog from those closest to me just so I can maintain my honesty. Anyway. . . here's one from February:
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Tonight I watched a documentary on the Aryan National Front, which I thought an interesting programming choice for Black History Month. So many of these skinheads looked like disenchanted boys looking for a home. It reminded me of a gang sort of membership - kids who don't necessarily ascribe to all of the views of their local affiliation, but they get taken in and treated kindly and so they end up swallowing whatever is fed to them.

I'm not trying to say these kids are innocent and are not responsible for their actions - they very much are. I guess I'm just trying to understand that kind of hate - well, any kind of hate. Where does it come from and why? What can we do to eradicate it? Why must we continue to keep open old wounds? There is so much good in the world, and I'm afraid that one day the hate may take over, the evil, and cancel out the goodness, the love that is left.

As Gandhi said, we need to be the change we want to see in the world. A new call to action: Love, love, love. Drown out the shouts of hate and violence. Maybe I'm just a born-too-late hippie, or maybe I'm just a mother and a sister and a daughter and a friend who is hoping for the best in this world for those I love and those who will come after me.