For the Love of Trayvon

The whole situation is fucked up.

From the fecklessness of many of the actors involved in Florida to the pundits adding their two pence on how to not get shot.
Besides the inane loss of a little boy's life is the aftermath. It's terribly disheartening that this is happening in 2012.
Besides not living in a post-racial country, it's scary to me to think that people can't empathize with the deceased's family.
Perhaps someone can't truly mourn Trayvon's life if they've never loved a little black boy. Or had a father that was once a little black boy. Or been a little black boy.

I've done the first two-Had crushes and been rejected by little black boys, loved the little black boy who is my little brother, thought about my father's childhood as a little black boy. Cried at the story of him being pulled over on a 10-speed bike for having the audacity to ride in his neighborhood; prayed that my little brother would never face the same treatment; wondered about my imaginary children and pondered whether I would raise them in my birth country or somewhere more accepting of their genetic legacy. Black boys are human to me.


I can only think in the midst of my sadness, anger and disgust that if Trayvon's murderer had been able to see him as human, worthy of love and loved that he'd still be alive.

I'm sorry Miss Lofton...I am for real

I couldn't care less about Valentine's Day this year.

Couldn't. Care. Less.

The one person in the whole world whose call or text would have meant the world to me had already proven himself to not care by neglecting to remember my Quarter of the Century Birthday.

So I went about like it was a normal day; because it was.

I tried to think about why I should be so unlucky in romantic love (I fully acknowledge that I have an embarassament of riches when it comes to loving friends and family) and I can only think of JB Lofton.

JB.

He was one of only two black boys in our lifted Gifted and Talented class and for some reason he fancied me. He let me know this by teasing me incessantly. I didn't care at the time and was more annoyed than hurt. I was much more concerned with beating Oregon Trail and making sure I didn't forget my homework.

It was one of the many times of year when various extracurricular groups

This is the only possible reason I can think of as to why love hasn't shined down on me.

Maybe one day, I'll have the opportunity to see JB and apologise for being a little twit. Maybe in the meantime, my love life will change for the better.

Reflections for the New Year

I did something either very brave or very foolish at the end of December. Either way it was very honest. More on that as the month progresses.

I entered 2012 with optimism and hope and so far I haven't abandoned them. Yet.

I made a new friend. A Parisienne. I overheard her (attractive) friend speaking French and I vacillated between asking where they were from, en Francais, and not. I did. I'm glad I did, as most times I am when I've had the courage to walk up to people. We met for drinks this evening (rather, I had a cider, as a practising Muslim, my new friend doesn't drink)and got to know each other a bit. It's just as weird going on a friend date as it is going on a date for a romantic venture.

Life doesn't get less complicated as you grow older, it gets more complexed and nuanced, but perhaps more flavorful too. We'll see what the future holds, for now I have to take solace in the fact that I followed my heart...and nothing wrong ever occurs when that happens.

Right?

"Oh goodness how the time has flewn..."

Here we are, December 2011. A year from now the world will end, or so they say. But as for now, it exists.I'm in a weird place. A confidante says it's "adjustment disorder"...I think it's just freaking out about all the ch-ch-ch-ch-changes happening in my life. My unhappiness stems from a lot of sources.

Foreign Language.Class.

He said he that what he found to be most attractive was that I was "well-educated". To him that meant that I speak French fairly well and no a few words and phrases in a handful of other languages. Spanish.Arabic.Hebrew.

He taught me "My name is..." in Arabic.

stop.this.train.

i feel overwhelmed and despondent and melancholic. my role in my family is changing and i'm not sure i like it, nor do i know if i can handle this new role.

there's really no preparation for going from a child to adolescent to a young adult who tries to make their parents proud, to a young adult who tries to help her family because of the new context it finds itself in.

i wanted to go to hawaii at the end of september and know i shouldn't, because my family can use the money more. love means obligation and responsibility. one shouldn't be too swift to bandy the word about.

the tightrope between selfishness and responsibility.

Love Soon?

There are several songs that I feel exemplify my situation; the best one is by the sage John Mayer in Love Soon's chorus:
"You can cross the line whenever you want to
I'm calling it love soon
Close your mind and waste some time if you have to
I'm calling it love soon
It's not about you now
It's what we are..."

I've known this guy for 6 years. This is significant to me because there are a few people I've known for that long. Continuity is not one of the results of moving around often and living in 7 different states...so it goes. I met this guy when we were day camp counselors in the H. I noticed him, but forgot him until he nearly cut off my head with a frisbee in an intense round of counselor frisbee golf. Our flirtation grew that summer and when I went to school, I didn't know if we'd stay in touch.
We did.
4 years later I moved to France. Here we are 6 years removed from my near frisbee decapitation. We're in a cycle of out of state visits, embraces, and adventures. I don't know what to do or if anything should be done.
I DO however think that I'm sick of the slew of movies such as Friends with Benefits and No Strings Attached and Love and Other Drugs that portray characters, especially women, who are blase and even repulsed by being in relationships.

I don't like this whole in limbo thing. Purgatory is not my bag of tricks. I'm supposed to be a free-spirited twentysomething, but I'm realizing more and more there's something to be said for commitment, stability, et al.


Disclaimer: this post NOT brought to you by everyone and their brother getting married.