Clareified

Where does the good go

Archive for February, 2010

Ash Wednesday

Wednesday, February 17th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

Memento homo, quia pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris.

Black History Month

Wednesday, February 17th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

I cannot believe I have been so remiss in my poetry sharing/black person being duties as not to pick a poem by a black author yet in February. Oh, forgive me W.E.B*, forgive me!

Race is something I think about often. Ugarles made me laugh the other day, in a quiet movie theater, when he said he was less racist than I was even about black people. Of course, I can only assume he means because while I am not racist about black people at all, I am suspicious about President Obama’s shifty white side. Me and Jake know what’s up!

Not that I have any big earth shattering thoughts on race. I’ve had a weird life journey where I’ve faced taunts from black kids for “talking white” and being an oreo. I’ve had matronly white parents extend their handshaking palm to me and with a straight face say “Oh, you’re Timmy’s little black friend.”
Um. “Or… my name is Dawn.”
I was the guest at wedding of a girl I was friends with for almost two decades, where the only other black people were staff, and when an elderly relative, presumably of the groom, asked her who I was, she stammered a good long time before finally eeking out an uncertain “um…friend of the family?”
Or…again: “Dawn.”
I should get a nametag. I laughed and got a hilarious facebook status update out of it. Win.
Essentially, my views on race are fluid. I see all sides. When John Mayer drops the “n” word and says that while he has a “Benetton heart,” his penis is David Duke when it comes to dating. (Whites only.), I get why most of the black women in my twitter feed angrily put their John Mayer concert tickets up for sale on ebay.
They’re John Mayer fans and want the same shot at being a ten minute stand as his white female fans, dammit! Why your penis gotta be *David Duke*, John? Your penis can’t be Kevin Federline…knocking up the black girls, but marrying the white ones?
He made this poor 22-year-old girl cry because white boys never like her.
But when Mayer breaks down and cries on stage, I can’t help but feel bad for the pitiful jerk. Chappelle gave him a black card!
He’s supposed to be able to use the “n-word”!
He’s cool, maan. He’s like a black white…like…um… Clinton!
Tsk, tsk, John, even Clinton ain’t Clinton anymore…we saw how he did Barack!
Nobody wants to spend their lives being a color, but it’s one of the very first things anyone ever notices. Unless they’re blind blind. (Sideeye to “color blind.”) So it is now, and so it certainly was when this poem was written. After that, we just gotta hope for the best. Oh, please don’t discriminate against me or let Dawn hurl her racial slurs at me! It is equally silly to expect that people aren’t going to judge you, at least temporarily, based on their other interactions with people of your race; I, for one, know never to expect an invite to a Jewish wedding. And heck, we’re going to have our preferences too. The key, and here’s my big takeaway, you can prefer, assume, prejudge all you want, but before you act, you ought to make sure this particular individual has done or failed to do something to merit that specific action from you.
Otherwise, you’re a douchey little boy from Baltimore.

“Incident” by Countee Cullen

Once riding in old Baltimore,    
Heart-filled, head-filled with glee,
I saw a Baltimorean,    
Keep looking straight at me.

Now I was eight and very small,    
And he was no whit bigger,
And so I smiled, but he poked out    
His tongue, and called me, “Nigger.”

I saw the whole of Baltimore    
From May until December;
Of all the things that happened there    
That’s all that I remember.

*W.E.B Dubois was actually Countee Cullen’s father in law for a while.

Fat Tuesday

Tuesday, February 16th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

Lenten eve!
I just finished Ken Wheaton’s book, The First Annual Grand Prairie Rabbit Festival. It’s not at all what I expected, though perhaps it reveals my prejudices about Louisiana, that I definitely thought there’d be a dead body involved.
There wasn’t.
It’s very much a fun, light-hearted, if blasphemous love story and as pleasant a way to pass the time on your commute as any. But, um, if anybody wearing pointy hats, white collars or black habits, asks, I never even so much as SAW this book. If I’m getting a lightning bolt, I’m getting it for my own misdeeds, thank you very much. (DUDE, power just went out on my laptop after I typed that! I’m not kiddding. You say, “because the battery was drained,” I say “Jesus mad.” At Ken! Not me. KEN. KEN WHEATON. WHO Blogs over here. *Crosses self and says a Hail Mary*)

Ah, but I bring it up, not because months of reading Snaps’ twitterfeed has brainwashed me into a hapless shill for his book The First Annual Grand Prairie Rabbit Festival, oh, my favorite part had to be the argument over whether a thing could be first and annual. LOL. Sorry, where was I? Ah, the reason I bring it up was this passage:

Even though our little triumvirate is broken, we manage to play nice, largely through the efforts of Mark. On the other hand, I imagine this is what hell must be like– being so close to something that once seemed ideal, knowing that you’d reached too far and fucked it all up.

I thought about that for a long time. I’m not sure why. Poor me, poor Icarus. But Lent seems like just the time to stop overreaching, or underreaching or reaching at all. And hopefully, we’ll come out safe on the other side.

I’m mostly looking for quiet this season; though, in some form or another, it’s what I always look for during Lent — To still the waters just enough to take a good reflexive look without the distracting ripples.
To my fellow Catholics, I wish you success on your personal lenten journeys.
To Ken…good luck. Don’t wear metal objects.

New York Times gives pizza one star…

Tuesday, February 16th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

…yet says it’s the best pizza in “The City.” I assumed the article was about someplace in New Jersey maybe, since I didn’t see the name DiFara’s anywhere in the article. But lo and behold, the dateline says “Brooklyn,” and so to that I say…umm…quick, somebody give me a synonym for “fuck outta here,” before Tae has my black card confiscated by Spike Lee.

Can I say “that’s jive turkey, man”? Do people still say jive? Dude. I need some black friends and pronto.

Not so Random Thought

Tuesday, February 16th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

I have a lot of kooky ideas, from my animals are only for eating to my let’s speed up global warming with excessive car driving and a commitment not to recycle. But the only time I ever feel like a radical is when I defend the United States against charges of stupidity and colonialism. However, you see how vocal my passion is for a football team I learned about three years ago? Yah.
I’m going to be shy about the place I was born, raised and lived in for 30 odd years? The place that took in my 20-year-old mom? Fuck outta here. The U.S. is the best.
Come at me.

Olympians react to luge race alterations

Monday, February 15th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

Summary? “Man, that stupid guy’s death ruined everything for us. Jerk.”

Germany’s Natalie Geisenberger, who won a race at Whistler last year, said the women’s event has turned into a kids race, a startlingly insensitive remark given the tragedy of Friday:

I’m not happy about the new start.

It’s not a woman’s start, it’s a kinder (German for children’s) start. The rest of the track is OK, but it’s not as fast as from the proper start. It’s the same for all the athletes, but I don’t like it. I felt very good, but now because of the new start it’s not fun.

Canadian Regan Lauscher complained that the lowered start means her nation’s home-track advantage is “basically gone.” Given that some have said Canada’s resistance to allow other countries to train at the Whistler track played a role in Kumaritashvili’s death, that comment beats out even Geisenberger’s for insensitivity. Maybe Lauscher is taking cues from her coach, Wolfgang Staudinger, who said that “exotic sliders” are the reasons luge accidents happen.

As for me, I’m not doing the Olympics, as I cleverly commented on twitter: Without the Soviets to hate on, I’ve lost all interest in the Olympic games. If Al Qaeda gets a hockey team, I’ll be back. #Olympics

Random string of not so random thoughts

Monday, February 15th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

*Need suggestions on how to make a really tall redhead shorter.

*HAHA Eric is going to think that’s about him because he’s been calling me “Daw”. It’s not. But it might be. Stay on your toes.

*I cannot get my shirley temples to taste like the ones at Harrah’s.

*I get scared and panic when I see a group of white teen boys coming toward me too. #Noracist

*Why is Mary’s first sentence after I show her my earrings: “how long are those going to last”?

*When I was a little girl, I wanted to go look for Amelia Earhart. I thought I could find her and bring her back.

*My blog title has a lot of “i”s in it for a girl that’s famous for the i not being in her name.

*I spend a lot of time struggling to stay awake through 11 o’clock because there’s something I want to tweet at midnight. #Dawnfailsatlife

*You know another way I don’t want to die? Going 80 miles an hour wearing spandex.

Conversation of the Day

Saturday, February 13th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

Kearns: You’re crazy.
Me: I’m not crazy, I’m awesome.
Kearns: Crazy awesome.
Me: Yes! Exactly.

If he could only see who it is!

Friday, February 12th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

Gov. Paterson: Somebody is after me

Get it? Cause he’s blind. Oh, man. I’m going to hate seeing him leave. hahahahaahha But you know, out of sight, out of mind.

Dawn could do this all day.

Norway helps Canada win Olympic medal…

Friday, February 12th, 2010 by Dawn Summers

…Canada tries to give Norway diabetes in return.