I HAVE to develop patience for the Chicken Littles of the world. Because they've never experienced the really big shit, they over react about EVERY little thing that happens over the course of a day.
You forget to greet them in the morning. They upset. If someone doesn't hold the door so they can enter a building. They offended. If you don't do everything exactly as they think you should, well they are downright annoyed.
You know 'em. You see them all the time.
-- They've never been really poor. And I'm referring to the poor of my childhood. Couldn't afford (or experience) lunch outside of the free variety I got at school. No medical insurance, dental, life insurance. Lights off at random. Long bouts without hot water because Momma couldn't afford the parts, pipes, or hell the water heater. Keep in mind that when you catch yourself referring to the poor, many times Chicken Littles think that they have been poor because they probably have never met someone who was really poor, so they can't even picture what you're talking about.
HOW TO IDENTIFY THESE CHICKEN LITTLES: They often times say things that are completely insensitive of the fact that there are many people who don't have and may never have the opportunity to get a higher education, own a home, pay off a car, go on a real vacation.
-- They don't have kids, so they don't really have a clue about what it takes to be connected on that level to another human being because you gave that person life. For some reason, Chicken Littles always have parenting advice. "Just ignore it." "Let them go through this stage." "Put them in timeout."
HOW TO IDENTIFY THESE CHICKEN LITTLES: They complain about parents who have to stay home with their kids, bring their kids to work, discipline their kids in public. Or cancel on something because of their kids. Or even better, they constantly refer to their pet as their child.
-- They have never been married, but are convinced that they are READY. . probably because of some family they've seen on TV that they have envisioned could be them once they tie the knot. They know EXACTLY the type of person they're waiting for because they've spent countless hours day dreaming about that "perfect" person that will wear armor, ride in on a white horse, and sweep them off their feet.
HOW TO IDENTIFY THESE CHICKEN LITTLES: Just listen. You can't miss it. They are the ones spouting off about what they wouldn't tolerate out of a spouse. And always starting sentences with "When I get married. . "
- - They've never really experienced loss. They probably have both parents still living, and are pretty well insulated from the end results of living in a family that couldn't afford health insurance because all their folks are healthy. The weird thing is that they are probably NOT healthy. The end results of being so protected is a little invincibility, so they probably over-indulge in food, or drugs, alcohol, sex, or some other irresponsible behavior.
HOW TO IDENTIFY THESE CHICKEN LITTLES: Depending on their tool for over-indulgence, it may be a few things.. Be creative.
Now, I don't think Chicken Littles are bad. Ignorance is not bad; it's bliss. . But just keep on saying "Good Morning," like Momma use to say.
One day even the most green Chicken Littles lose a job or income, have a child, get married, lose a couple of folks that are the cornerstones of their existence. . and then their eyes are open to . . the real.
I'm praying for one particular Chicken Little. God please be there for this person because she/he knows not what she/says says or where she/he is. Be there for her so as she is exposed to the real, she doesn't fall apart and shoot a bunch of folks in a movie theatre.
I'm just saying.. this kinda shit happens.
Showing posts with label being poor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label being poor. Show all posts
Monday, July 30, 2012
Monday, June 4, 2012
Where NOT to buy bootleg DVD's

. . at the swap meet in the parking lot.
Yeah, that kinda kills the build up huh? Yeah, I know, but keep reading. . you wanna know why not, right?
So, I'm in Maryland at the Swap Meet. . doing it up like a professional: scoping out every store before I make a selection, looking all snobby so the vendor does not think I'm interested, haggling over everything from clothes to shoes to accessories. Yeah, I grew up at the Houston (Texas) swap meet. I know what I'm doing.
I didn't buy a lot. I just couldn't find enough to justify the $27 bag check fee at the airport. (Yes, I was building that into the cost of most of the items I was looking at). So, when I stepped into the parking lot after my little shopping venture was done, I was still up by a few bills.
When I walked outside some lady walks up to me and the group I was with and asked if we wanted to buy some CD's or DVD's. Yeah, I thought I was done, but CD's/DVD's are little. Even if I bought a dozen, I could stuff them in my suitcases, so this would be an at cost purchase.
I was open to the thought. I mean, how bootleg can bootleg CD's/DVD's be, right?
Good question. So, let me answer that for you.
So, the lady who gets our attention, and a little girl who I was not completely sure who she belonged to, walked the group I was with over to a van. The van door opened. And I swear I was wondering how a low-end van had the little push button door slide when it happened. (It didn't). A man with a beard appeared seated in the back of the van, with one of those baseball game peddler pitches. {No, not the pitch that happens on the field. The one the guy with the hot dog cart has when he yells out, "Get your hot, roasted peanuts!"} But this guy was calling out big movie names. "I got your Snow White. Got PLENTY of Prometheus. Get at me for the Men in Black 3. I even got the 3D."
He had eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeverything in a cardboard box between his legs. They all looked like production house quality, with the really good covers that showed the actual movie title and scenes you'd see beside the movie theater marquee.
I was like shit! Forget about spending 50 bucks on a movie night. I'm coming in ahead of my swap meet trip and my next weekend plans. This is wassup.
Right? Mmmmmmmm, right. But stay with me here.
While the Bootleg Movie Vendor is doing his hot dog cart guy voice, the little girl approaches me and hands me a little slip of paper. "That's my Daddy's business card." She had written his name and phone number across little slips of paper she tore up to support her Daddy, the Bootleg Movie Vendor. Yeah, it was cute, touching, ghetto. . all that. I giggled, but this is my people right here. I'm STILL not surprised.
I beat the guy down for the price. . not enough. . and was content with 3 titles I got. I ain't saying which ones in case the feds Google and turn up this post. (IJS).
Anyway, I get home from my DC trip and finally settle down to watch my 3 bootleg DVD's. . and you know. . YOU know. . YOU KNOW!
I'm watching as dude opens his jacket after the opening credits. Middle Eastern subtitles are at the bottom of every screen. Every few minutes, some shadowy figure walks across the movie screen, the recorder's phone rings, or he puts his hand over the camera because the usher (who also walks across the movie screen) appears.
Typical ghetto bootleg craziness.
Yeah, I could've gotten this quality from the barber shop, or the hair store, or at the liquor store in the neighborhood where I could hunt Bootleg Movie Vendor down, tell him how sorry the copy was, negotiate for another movie for free, and act like I'm offended by the quality of a $4 flick.
But I wouldn't have gotten the experience. Shit, I STILL don't really know if the movie was good. But me and Baby Girl got a kick out of watching the production. We got exposed to shit you can't get for $50. . at least not by choice.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Some of my dumb Mistakes: Getting my child to act smart
I've gotten more feedback on the post "Getting My Child to Act as Smart as She Is" than I've ever gotten on a blog post.
I was a little relieved because I was grappling with a topic I felt was unique to my situation without a lot of support from others, and it was a little frustrating. . I'm feeling better about the situation - which, of course, continues - but wanted to build on my explanation of the issue by highlighting the root cause that ushered this whole problem into my life.
All of this did not come into my life just because I was that kid who tried to avoid getting tagged as a nerd for being smart. The major portion has to do with HOW I tried to elude this very unpopular label.
I grew up in a small town - Port Arthur, Texas. It has two claims to fame - Jimmy Johnson, ex football coach of the Dallas Cowboys; and UGK, gangster rappers. There was no city-wide spelling bee, academic conferences, organized mentorship groups.
Well, I guess Port Arthur has a 3rd claim, but it's more of a local thing. I'm pretty sure it had more crack cocaine dealers per square mile than any other small town city in the US. And the dealers were probably the most popular (and wealthy) people I knew.
So, I figured that the best way to excel in the popularity contest was to either become a drug dealer. {Which wasn't going to happen since my older sister at the time was a police office. Now, is a seasoned detective, BTW} Or, to date a drug dealer.
Now, here's where it becomes interesting.
Who would risk their freedom to date the baby sister of an over-protective cop? Well, yippee! I found one.
In the tenth grade I dated a high school dropout that had been selling drugs since he was 12. It was SO exciting! I would attend my talented and gifted classes during the day - or often not - and then hang up with "the element" after school. I never used drugs. I never sold drugs. But boy did my popularity soar at my high school. I was the Queen Ill Nana. Hah!
Well, all good things come to an end (Good - a word based on the perspective of a confused 16-18 year old). Here's how it all played out: I got pregnant. My boyfriend got locked up. Reality set in. "You're screwed, Dude."
I had to go through it! I had to. Fortunately, I had a praying and patient Momma who refused to see me fail and a God who covered me with his grace and mercy that wipes clean even the most awful sins.
Here's the upside of what I went through and what I'm now going to with my teenage daughter who BTW is not as far gone as I was in trying to avoid being labeled as The Smart Kid - I'm a praying and (sometimes) patient Momma AND God does not change, even as man does.
From the time my daughter was born, I got it. . and I changed. I don't believe it will take such a life-changing (and permanent) change in my daughter's life. God gives each of us exactly what we need. And somehow, he knew that I needed someone who depended on me to do the right thing and to get my life together. He saved my life. My daughter saved my life.
I tell my testimony not because I'm proud of some of the dumb stuff I've done. I tell my testimony because I know that there are others out there that are going through and they need to know that, even though it's hard and feels overwhelming, this too shall pass.
I was a little relieved because I was grappling with a topic I felt was unique to my situation without a lot of support from others, and it was a little frustrating. . I'm feeling better about the situation - which, of course, continues - but wanted to build on my explanation of the issue by highlighting the root cause that ushered this whole problem into my life.
All of this did not come into my life just because I was that kid who tried to avoid getting tagged as a nerd for being smart. The major portion has to do with HOW I tried to elude this very unpopular label.
I grew up in a small town - Port Arthur, Texas. It has two claims to fame - Jimmy Johnson, ex football coach of the Dallas Cowboys; and UGK, gangster rappers. There was no city-wide spelling bee, academic conferences, organized mentorship groups.
Well, I guess Port Arthur has a 3rd claim, but it's more of a local thing. I'm pretty sure it had more crack cocaine dealers per square mile than any other small town city in the US. And the dealers were probably the most popular (and wealthy) people I knew.
Now, here's where it becomes interesting.
Who would risk their freedom to date the baby sister of an over-protective cop? Well, yippee! I found one.
In the tenth grade I dated a high school dropout that had been selling drugs since he was 12. It was SO exciting! I would attend my talented and gifted classes during the day - or often not - and then hang up with "the element" after school. I never used drugs. I never sold drugs. But boy did my popularity soar at my high school. I was the Queen Ill Nana. Hah!
Well, all good things come to an end (Good - a word based on the perspective of a confused 16-18 year old). Here's how it all played out: I got pregnant. My boyfriend got locked up. Reality set in. "You're screwed, Dude."
I had to go through it! I had to. Fortunately, I had a praying and patient Momma who refused to see me fail and a God who covered me with his grace and mercy that wipes clean even the most awful sins.
Here's the upside of what I went through and what I'm now going to with my teenage daughter who BTW is not as far gone as I was in trying to avoid being labeled as The Smart Kid - I'm a praying and (sometimes) patient Momma AND God does not change, even as man does.
From the time my daughter was born, I got it. . and I changed. I don't believe it will take such a life-changing (and permanent) change in my daughter's life. God gives each of us exactly what we need. And somehow, he knew that I needed someone who depended on me to do the right thing and to get my life together. He saved my life. My daughter saved my life.
I tell my testimony not because I'm proud of some of the dumb stuff I've done. I tell my testimony because I know that there are others out there that are going through and they need to know that, even though it's hard and feels overwhelming, this too shall pass.
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