To be accepted, or to not be accepted. That is the question?

Today i have a headache, and it was probably caused by the fact that my son was up all night due to his newfound teeth, making there presence be known.

I decided it was better to stare at a computer screen and allow my over worked mind to spew words of thought than to dwell on the fact that i probably should take some tylenol.

I got thinking about the colour issue. The cliche of it all.

How when i am first introduced to someone as "His wife" they all seem to need some time to swallow the fact that "Yes, i am white."

I find that whenever i am meeting someone ,who for the first time are also meeting me, i suddenly feel inadequate, out of place, different.

It has been hard for me to fit in with groups of females who are the same colour as my husband. As there eyes let me know they are wondering why they should give me the time of day.

This is understandable, being that we still live in a very racist country.

But i have never nor will i ever judge someone by the colour of there skin and allow that to impact the kind of relationship we will have.

Maybe it was because i was raised better than that, to not look at colour, but too look at the person inside.

As early as i can remember i was drawn to black people, maybe this is because i was partly raised by my Nigerian pom godfather, and had a harmless crush on his son.

Or the fact that all my boyfriends but one have been black and i have always related more to African American fiction, television and movies.

So if i am an non judgemental, then why am i constantly judged?

People see me as a stereotypical case of "A white woman meddling in a black woman's territory" But stereotypes are just that. Ways for society to feel comfortable with things that are looked on as taboo.

The cliche of it all amuses me, that so much racism has been bought forth it has now been thrown back to the ones who have long since been giving it.

Either way, there is still an inkling anxiety bubbling around inside me whenever i meet someone, mainly being females of the other race. My mind is always a prisoner to the wonders of what i like to call "The colour cliche"
Will the colour of my skin ultimately impact how accepting of me they are?

I find i have to work harder to be accepted than i ever have before.
Just to prove to them that i am not the judgemental, stereotypical "White woman" they think i am.

I almost feel as if i am contradicting myself by focusing on one's colour now, but as any other person in an interaccial relationship will tell you, this sad realisation of feeling like an outsider to your other halves race is still hovering over us, even when we are long since past looking at the colour of the others skin.

I will forever stay true to the person i am, how i was raised and what beliefs i stand strongly bound with.

Just because i find it a challenge to be accepted by another won't deter me from feeling comfort in my own skin, a skin that is that of a european, The skin of a white woman, if you must.

And if by being white allows others to erase me off their imaginary list of friends, then so be it.

The only true person anyone wants to befriend anyway is someone who will accept you for who you are, and not by the colour of the skin that coccoons you is.

*I am not referring to everyone i have met from a different race, only those who have judged me on the colour of my skin.

The world as you only know it.

I usually try to keep clear of pitying others and thinking of their lives in a way that makes me glad i am where i am and i'm not where they are.
As this is unhealthy, uppity and sometimes can be damn right nasty. I am not at all a nasty person, nor do i think my life is above anyone elses.

But after running into an old highschool friend on the communication super highway we call "facebook" i couldn't help but feel sorry for the person she still was and the life she still thinks is cool to live.

Let me undo my nasty by explaining to you the reasons on which i base these thoughts on.

When i was young i had this friend, a friend who was perfect in every way. Had the perfect body, the perfect set of friends and looked to be living the perfect life, flaunting these things in every way possible.

This person also prided themselves on being a bitch. Making others around them miserable in any way possible.

Back then, it was cool to be the bitchiest, most desired girl in the school. This was cool and hey, we all wanted to be popular.

Time passed as did years, and now we are all grown up. Far from the complicated, confused souls we were as teenagers.

Everyone has gone on to do magnificent things with the life that god gave them. Everyone except her.

As i had a wall to wall conversation with this person from my past, I had come to the sad conclusion that time changes all, but not many.

She wrote to me of the same places, the same people, the same life. If it was a novel, i would have closed the book on the foreword.

She wrote out of sarcasim about my accomplishments. My beautiful son, my wonderful, caring, dedicated husband. My place of residence, my experience and myself as a whole.

I suddenly felt sad for her, for the person she was and the lack of growth she had done over the years. To be in the same place since birth and to not see the world, to be with the same dead beat man who shows no respect. To work at the same job as you did in highschool and still the same need to look down your nose at other people.

I felt sad for her. For her existence. As this was her world, her only world. The world as she only knew it.

If your still doing the same things you did in highschool and you still think this is cool, you need to break free.

I wondered why people choose to stay in one place, like a tree who plants its roots and doesn't move until its existence ceases.

I also wondered why she had bothered to contact me if all she was going to do was turn her nose up at my accomplishments?

I think i know the answer...
By putting people down around you, it is much easier to justify your own being.

I harbour no ill feelings. Only hope for her years to come.

Sorry...You said WHAT?

Hello everyone:) After hibernating myself for the last week and getting lost in Eric Jerome Dickey's world of deciept, lies, twists, turns and action. I am back.

Last night started off like any other, me and my husband sat down to watch the evening news, we sound like a pair of oldies, BUT. I like to know what's going on in the area of which i live in.

Now apart from your usual shootings, robberies and car accidents.
The news readers went on to broadcast a story about a lady...

This lady wasn't special, she didn't have a disability and she hadn't been mugged. So what you ask was her story.

The lady had thrown in her drier, and asked her husband to buy her a clothesline and set it up in her back yard..
Now every morning she comes out and hangs her freshly washed clothes on the line.
Lets, and i quote. "The natural sunlight dry her clothes during the day" and then takes them off in the evening.
Her neighbours were interviewed one by one, each stating that she does this everyday and they think its weird..
By this stage i had my mouth wide open like i had just seen something horrific. The truth was, this was horrific. A horrific story about something so silly, i just couldn't believe my eyes.
Really, they must have been short for stories to put this one on the air.
But what i found most amusing is that something so normal like having a clothesline in Australia. Is actually regarded as out of the ordinairy here in America.
Seriously everyone in Australia has a clothesline, or knows someone who has. Driving by residential areas its a normal thing to see peoples clothes flapping in the breeze.
As a kid it was my chore to hang the clothes out and bring them in. And i distinctively remember getting into trouble for swinging on the clothesline. One of those old school brass, iron, round ones that would spin around.
I thought it was ridiculous that such a story would be aired, but here in America it is a story, something out of the blue, something people would find interesting. The lady had saved $100 on her energy bill and was proud by this. Maybe she will start a clothesline trend, and then maybe the news crew will go back in a few months and report how one ladies idea, had an impact so huge, it started a clothesline trend. I wouldn't be surprised.
Its funny how diffenet countries can be in the way in which they live. When i first arrived in America the clothesline was the first thing i missed.

Here are a few other things i have noticed they do not have in America..

Firstly- Where is the good old blue tack. That awesome sticky stuff that you put on the walls and stick posters too.

Secondly- crumpets. Those delicious, toasty breakfast muffins that have holes all over them and the butter melts thru..Yum.

Thirdly- vegemite..Obviously cos noone other than aussies like the stuff.

Fourthly- An electric kettle..So much better than the ones you stick on the stove and let boil.

Fifthly- Good old fashioned licorice..No not twizzlers...The molassey, black ,chewy melt in your mouth shit.

Sixthly- Fresh juiced juice..When i first ordered out here, i asked for apple juice. To my dismay i recieved a juice box. Ok what the heck?

Seventhly- Where are the newsagents???? A shop dedicated to newspapers, magazines.etc

Eighthly- Clotheslines.. need i say more.

Some people have also added to my list:
-A real bakery, the one thats sells sausage rolls, meat pies and an assortment of breads.
-A cinnamon donut stand, freshly casting off hot, buttery donuts.
-Cheese, the kind thats not orange.

Thankyou to everyone for their contribution:)

Words left behind.

Ergh, so here i am, once again on the blogging bandwagon, but with nothing to say. I think i have stumbled upon what most refer to as "writers block."

Never thought i would actually be the one to be consumed by this, as i never not have nothing to say. I ladies and gentlemen have the slight tendency to always have something to say, i dunno call it genes.

My mother is the same and i'm guessing i got it from her.

I woke up today thinking about the economy and Americas part in it. I'm no CNN guru but if i could put it bluntly i would say that America has declared bankruptcy, in its own political way.

On another note, things that i see and find upsetting really affect me, more so since i have become a mother. I don't know, call me sensitive but maybe its due to all these extra hormones i have floating around in my body due to the fact that i'm breastfeeding and will so for a few more months.

I watched Lisa "left eye" Lopes last days, on television this morning. It is a documentary of her last days on earth, unedited and left behind after she had passed.

It not only describes the person she was and the beliefs she was following but it also pain stakinly shows her last few seconds alive.

Lisa Lopes died in a car accident on April 25th 2002 only 8 months to the day after Aaliyah R.I.P. In the end of the documentary you do see the car accident from the filmers seat as he and 7 others were in the wreck also.

It disturbed and upset me. It left me thinking about her and her last seconds alive all day, don't ask me why. I get very affected by such things.

What a wonderful, talented human being. R.I.P. Left eye.

On a more pleasant note, i am so thrilled as i have in my hands Eric Jerome Dickey's latest novel; Pleasure.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with his work, he is an African American writer who has nothing but talent and charisma. He "IS" my favorite author and thats all there is to it.

After waiting in a long line of his fans thru a virtual library site, i finally got my turn to borrow this book.

NO.. i do not buy books when i can just as easily borrow them.

So don't expect to hear from me for a few days as i will be deeply lost in his world of lies, deceipt and passion.

AHHH (long sigh) I can't wait.

Well it turns out i did have something to say, i knew i wasn't the silent type. :)

www.ericjeromedickey.com

In an updatily fashion.

Seems like i've fallen off of the "blogging bicycle" as of late, truth is when i started this blog i wanted to make it as impersonal as i could. I wouldn't write about myself , the person. I would write about the thoughts that dwell within and my life in a nut shell.

This one however is completely about me, the person. So a lifely update seemed only right.

I have been trying extra hard lately to occupy my mind with as many things as possible. Like having a 6 month old crawling infant who's little hands have just realised its far more fun to get into things that either consist of glass or electrical cords. Isn't enough, yes its been a hell of a ride!

I try and make everyday new, i can not fathom a day like every other as predictability bores me. I can only try and make everyday as interesting as the last, so this i have been doing.

After being an au pair for 2 years, i ofcourse have had many unusual and exciting experiences.

I have told my story to a few people and it always results in them telling me to write a book.

"Write a book and get it published" they say.

And up until a few months ago, i did nothing of the sort.

When i started to think about the life i lived for those 2 years and the experiences i made, i realised not everyone has those stories to share, and so with a bit of research. I have started to write my book.

Its going to be a work in progress for the next year or so, as i am a perfectionist and will not put it out there until i am sure it is perfect.

Its titled "Memoirs of an au pair" and will describe my life as an au pair behind closed doors.

It will also entail the not so ordinairy things i used to get up to when "off duty" some i'm proud of and some i just thank the good lord he got me through it.

The book, will basically be a tell all.

Every year thousands of girls from all over the world come to America to be au pairs, the experience is definately what you make of it. Nothing turns out to be how you thought it would be.

I ofcourse chose my time as an au pair to be the time when i also went a little wild.

The family i once worked for have tight bindings with a publisher friend in new York City, who after he heard my story, was enthused by the fact that i was going to write a book. He told me to contact him when its done and we could start the publishing process.

I'm excited but its going to be a long haul.

My insomniac nights tho now serve me well and i find that its the best time for me to write, there seems to be something about darkness that brings vivid thoughts to my head.

On another note, i have just recently sent Raishawn's Pictures off to a baby model management company, after a scout had noticed him in the supermarket and referred us to her agency.

I was never one to exploit my child, i have always stood firmly against allowing your child to make money for you. But i have since opened a bank account for my son in the hopes we can soon fill it with money for his college tuition.

I am a tad bit ahead of myself. I know! But its never too early to plan for the future.

If we get booked and he likes it, OK. If at anytime i feel he isn't enjoying himself, were out!

So thats me signing off. Ciao, Au revoir, Good bye, Peace and whatever else people use to sign off these days.

You know you're an aussie kid who grew up in the 90's if;

This next segment is dedicated to the 90’s, those innocent days of playing under the sprinkler in your cossies on a hot summer arvo with the neighbourhood kids.

I loved my childhood. I loved everything about it, so for those of you who were lucky enough to grow up in Australia at this time, hopefully I bring back some fond memories.

-Scrunchies, I had them in every colour, to match my neon outfits of course.
-Those infamous slap it bands, and them being banned from show and tell.
-Agro’s cartoon connection. Need I say more.
-Waking up early in the morning on Saturday to watch cartoon Disney.
-You played the game match( mansion attic tent church house) at lunch time in primary school.
-You had a huge collection of my little ponies and a care bears lunch box that looked like a mini briefcase.
-Swapping those nappy haired Troll dolls and bragging about your cabbage patch kids
-Jelly shoes and being excited when they introduced the “new” glitter jellies.
-Alf the funny little brown alien from melmac
-Mr matey bubblebath and wanting to collect the different bottle tops shaped like a sailor hat.
-Singing the decore song while washing your hair with… you guessed it.. decore
- Deciding on who would be “it” by Paper rock scissors or eenie meenie myni mo
-Clapping hand games such as “down down baby down by the rollercoaster” or “Chinese checkers cheese on toast, wally wally whiskers “ while waiting to be let into the classroom after lunch break.
-Getting 20c rings from a vendor and pretending you were Captain planet.
-Ms Dos on the computer and playing super nintendo.
-Tape players were the shit and walkmans were even cooler.
- Gak and making farting noises with it.
-The old Australian paper currency before it went plastic.
-Burgerman and jupiterbars, were sold in tuckshops for 50 cents.

-Sunny boys, those triangular frozen ice blocks.
-Drinking frozen breakas on a hot day.
-Watching such shows after school like;
-Amazing
-Funny bones
-Round the twist
-The ferals
-Ship to Shore
-Lift off
-Johnson and friends
-Mr squiggle, man from the moon
-Gumby
-Bangers and mash
-Raggy dolls
-Bananaman
-Blinky bill
-Superted
-Behind the trap door
-Philbert the frog
-Fireman sam
-Postman pat

-Mulligrubs. Mulligrubs me, mulligrubs you, you can be a mulligrub too.
-Complaining when your parents would watch Burkes Backyard or A Country Practice.
-Black dunlops were for boys and white ones were for girls.
-Singing the songs of some ads like;
*PK has that freshness burst that refreshens your breath, PK.

*Slip Slop Slap,slip on a shirt slop on sunscreen and slap on a hat.

(then being totally amped to get a free slip slop slap bag when they came to your school.)

*The lotto ads with the Big Red Ball bouncing everywhere.

-That elastic game; England, Ireland, Scotland Wales, inside, outside, inside, out.

-Jump rope for heart day and going around knocking on neighbours doors for donations.

-The MS readathon
-Having sprinkler days in kindergarten and being excited to bring your newest pair of togs.
- That infamous song "wash your face with orange juice.......clean your teeth with bubble gum"
-Getting excited and saving your allowance for when book club came around at the library, and you could buy all those cool things that werent even related to books?

-Putting your order into the tuckshop box on a brown bag with the money inside, and then someone would go and collect the whole classes box just before little lunch and big lunch?

-Going around to a mates place to play commander keen on an old DOS computer. AAhh commander keen was the shit.

Thank you for everyone who helped me compile this list, your help is greatly appreciated.

Doesn't seem like such a long time ago that instead of text msging we actually got on our bikes and rode to our friends house, instead of playing Xbox we actually played outside, willingly, and enjoyed ourselves.

The good old days.

Were we could be children, without fear of ever having to fight off a child predator, or be abducted by a child molester.

We were free and surrounded by innocence..

Seems like its was a long time ago afterall.

They say pictures are worth a thousand words.

This next story, basically explains itself… Never lose sight of your priorities…

While I was taking a casual stroll around the neighbourhood I live in a few weeks ago, I came across a car with rims on it the size of boulders..
I immediately thought to myself,

“Who would want to do that to such a nice looking car?”
“Hell, who would want to do that to a car period.”

The rims on this thing are so big that the wheels no longer fit into the wheel allotments.

Yes laugh, I have no idea about the specific car terms but you know what I’m talking about and if I have lost you, refer to the picture of this abomination.

Now understandably this car belongs to…you guessed it a male.
But the thing I find most mind boggling is not the car itself...rims and all... it’s the fact that this man has un-doubtably spent a few salaries on some “jewellery” for his car.

“A good set of rims (22’s and up) can start out at $5000 a pair” as stated by Rims and Things, yellow pages.

So I did the math: There are 4 wheels on a car, so that’s 2 pairs…. $5000 a pair…= WHAT $10000.

$10000 to make your car look like what, exactly?? Like an alien, an alien on roller-skates...

And you’re gonna pull up to an apartment complex??

Don’t get me wrong, the apartment complex is nice, but if you’re willing to spend $10000 on some rims you would think you would have the money to be living in a house, or at least have invested your money firstly in that of purchasing a house…

Can you say priorities?

The first time I saw this car, I was hoping maybe it was just somebody here to visit a friend, but nope…. Weeks later, it’s still parked, still here, still ugly and still ghetto fabulous.

I wondered why men felt the need to do this to their cars; well I came up with 2 things.

1- There overcompensating for something, making up in the big department in other places.. (sorry fellas)
2- With all the pressure now that the media..(Yes it’s the media again.) has put on these young men to be fly and flashy like Jay Z, Kanye West and any other rich, fly and famous baller out there.
They think that they need to be all “blinged up” for a woman to look there way, that or they want us to think they have got it like that.

The truth is, you don’t have the kind of money to waste on a set of rims, if your pulling into an apartment complex, I don’t care how nice the apartment is, this aint a sky rise, we aint downtown and this aint Hollywood.

It’s hard to keep up in America with all the hype circulating around “money” and “whose got what”

It’s just plain hard to keep up.

So maybe just maybe this is a small time man’s way of at least trying to keep up, trying to stay in the game, whether he pulls into an apartment complex or a garden shed, at least when he cruises the strip on a Friday night he can pretend he’s the baller he so badly wants to be.

*This is my own account for why men do this, it in no way describes the person who actually owns the car, they only serve as subject matter for my writing this, and in no way are related to the story i tell.*

Just maybe praise your haters.

Hater: noun,
—Synonyms 1. loathe, execrate; despise. Hate, abhor, detest, abominate imply feeling intense dislike or aversion toward something. Hate, the simple and general word, suggests passionate dislike and a feeling of enmity..

As i was scrolling thru, reading one of my favourite artists my space page: T.I. (yes females, i am one of a trillion fans lol)

I noticed he had recently added some beautiful pictures of his babies mother, Tiny, who back in the day was a member of the all girl Rn'B group "Exscape".

Underneath this lovely picture were heinous comments written by a handful of T.I's females fans, now it is none of my business how other females feel about T.I's choice in women, nor i feel is it any of theirs.

Were did this girl on girl hatred come from? We as women should be praising one another for getting our grind on, following our dreams and staying true to the people we care about the most, But it doesn't seem like it in this day and age.

Instead we have to deal with the sourness that emanates from fellow females when we ourselves have something or have done something to be proud of.

Apart from already having so much negativity brought forth onto females by the media, which never fails to let us know how we should look, what diet we should be on and how to get rid of that "ergh" fat under your bra. (which is totally normal, seriously i like to think mine keeps me warm in the wintery months lol)

Now we have to deal with negativity being brought forth by fellow females.

You would think because of the media's translation of "A perfect woman" we would all stand together, praise each other and offer support instead of criticism.

Nope... because now it seems to be ok to HATE on another woman for what she is accomplishing with her life.

There has even been songs/ t-shirts with the word "Hi Hater" as subject matter.

Katt Williams: comic/actor and now diplomats member stated a now memorable phrase, a phrase in which i never fail to smile about when i'm walking down the street hand in hand with my husband, him proudly black and me proudly white.

After i'm thrown a sour look from a female or over heard yet another unnecessary comment made towards me.

"If there's anyone out there who has noone to hate on, feel free to hate on me. Say i'm not the shit bitch, when you know I is!"

Whilst finding it difficult to understand why it is now considered ok to hate on someone and sometimes even cool, as i know of those young girls who are in highschool, popular, pretty and might i add, bitchy.

Pride themselves on being "Haters"

I can't think of any better of an answer than good old jealousy, that green eyed monster which occasionally eats away at all of us sometimes, has reared its ugly head in the now dominant female world.

I also like to think that this female to female "hatred" keeps us pushing on, keeps us grounded, only makes us better, makes us want to try harder.

So the next time your walking down the street, minding your own business and you get hated on, smile to yourself and be grateful for your haters because secretly they are our biggest fans, the ones that make us as strong and determined as we are today.

What is the right answer?

As i was taking my son, (who i might add is almost 6 months old now, my how they grow.)

For a walk around the neighbourhood we live in, i was approached by the usual group of younger neighbourhood girls, who have taken quite a liking to my son.

They are always giggling and smiling at him, trying to get back something of the same response, wanting to hold him and asking the usual questions of :How old is he now? and can we play with him?

This has become somewhat of the norm while we take our afternoon walks, and Raishawn seems to like the attention, giving the girls his cutest gummy grin and trying to play with the beads in there braids.

It was when a question came up that i had not yet been asked and i doubt that it would be the last time i was asked it either.

The youngest girl, who was around the age of 5 asked me, "If i am his mummy" when i replied "Yes"

She then looked confused and exclaimed "Then why does he look the same as us and not the same as you"

She was reffering to the colour of our skin.

I wanted to answer this question right but was stumped on just how to do it, i mean sure i could state the obvious of what she already knew, "his daddy is black and i am white"

But it goes far deeper than that.

I didn't know how to explain it to her the right way, a way in which i didn't emphasise on black or white.

I wanted to tell her that it doesn't matter what colour you are.

But in a country were colour decides what friends you will have, were you will sit at lunchtime and ultimately what pay grade you will recieve*.

*(This is not my opinion, but that of a survey done on black men in America by the U.S dept of employment)

How could i tell her that.

I ended up explaining to her that Raishawn's daddy is Jamaican, which means the colour of his skin is black, and i am from Australia and the colour of my skin is white, So thats why Raishawn is lighter than his daddy but a lot darker than me, I told her that Raishawn is Bi-racial which means he is black AND white.

I also added that when people love each other the colour of there skin doesn't matter.

Now what she is told at home according to colour is none of my business but i hoped somewere down the line i wouldn't be approached by an angry mother wanting to know why a "white woman" was talking to her daughter about colour.

As i walked home i couldn't help but think that this was only the start of such questions, as i know when my son gets old enough and starts to recognise race etc, he or his friends will ask the same question.

I will teach my son the cultures of both of his races, so he will have knowledge and a good sense of who he is and where he came from.

I also want to instill into my son that he doesn't have to choose between Black OR white, he is black AND white. We may have different coloured skin but we are all the same and should be treated equally.

I can only hope that one day here in America this will be the case, that they will no longer ask you on government forms: Black OR white.

That when you fill out a birth Certificate for your bi-racial child you will no longer have to choose between 2 races: black OR white.

It will just be Black AND white. Equal.

We really have come so far from the era of one side for white and an opposite side for coloured, But we also have such a long way to go. More and more couples are dating and marrying out of there race and thus meaning there are more and more bi-racial babies being born.

I believe that since this is the case the old version of government forms etc should be changed and the choices on these forms should resemble that of its nation.