If I'm going to hell, I'll Moon Walk all the way!

This Is It. I've finally started writing about Him!

I love Michael Jackson like it's nobody's business. He is my absolute favorite everything and I idolize him!

I swear if anyone even mentions the molestation "charges" I'll inflict bodily harm on them. (Actually, my friends are good for teasing me, but I always win. Mostly because I yell and turn really red.)

Tonight I started listening to some music and just like every other time, I found myself sweatily jumping around to "Billy Jean." I love love love love to dance. I wish I knew how much I loved dancing when I was 3 or something because I would have started then and trained for everything. Within the last 8/10 years I've come to use dancing as a release and it's pretty much the only exercise I get. But when I'm home alone, I go for hours. I do it downtown too.

When I was in high school there was the Jackson's 30th Anniversary. I recorded it because NSYNC was performing. Well, I ended up recording the entire thing and killed the tape because I watched it so much. But this was about the time when I realized that I can watch a music video three or four times and then dance in sync with it. I did it with Michael Jackson, NSYNC and Britney Spears. Not one of the finer points in my life, but...I found my passion.

I focused mostly on Micheal. Stayed up watching VH1 because they play his entire videos to kill air time. Yeah, I recorded them too. Back home, I have an entire box of videos, probably a quarter of it is various Michael Jackson. About this time my mother gave me all her records. I mean, everything she had left from the 70s and 80s. Thriller, some Whitney Houston and Lionel Richie, The Empire Strikes Back Soundtrack, Casey and the Sunshine Band and a few others. Yeah, I'm a bit of a Star Wars freak too!! With the Thriller album I was able to practice with out the videos and just dance to awesome MJ funkiness!! 

Dancing is such a wonderful thing to do. It feels so nice to just funk out and move. To be fluid and rhythmic. To sweat out your stress. It's gross, but there's nothing like being cover in sweat, feeling your chest heave and pound your limbs tingle for the blood flow. It feels good.

My father came to Massachusetts when I was 16. We were hanging out at my grandmothers and he asked me what I wanted to do when I graduated high school. I told him that I wanted to be a professional background dancer and that I danced about 2 hours a day after school. He was encouraging but told me that I needed to lose a little weight. My grandmother walked in and joined the conversation. When she realized I was talking about touring with Michael Jackson, because I knew he was going to do a comeback/final tour again, she laughed at me. We all know that I've been chubby since I was like 12/13, but she was so mean. She killed my dream. Made me feel really bad and I stopped taking dancing serious.

Michael's "This Is It" is what I was waiting for. It's what I wanted to train for. I didn't know in 02 that's what it was going to be, but I had a feeling that he wasn't done. Just to be in that man's presence would have been amazing. Even just to have him watch me audition. I guess that's done and over with. I let go of being a profession background dancer and touring with MJ. But I didn't let him go. I've considered getting his silhouette tattooed on my right ankle. Or his feet in the Billy Jean stance. Or something MJ somewhere on my body!

Summer 09 I almost lost my job for trying to go to his funeral. My boss said I could surely leave, but there wouldn't be a job waiting for me when I got back. (And then he let me go home for a week for my Mammy's 70th birthday.) So, for the last two years, on the anniversary of his death (his funeral was the first time i did it) and his birthday, I wear white socks with black shoes. If I had a fedora, I would rock that too. Oh, and I love making dumb jokes with his song lyrics! I've got about 8 of them! 

Obviously, I dance a ton a home when I'm by myself. But when my friends and I go out, we usually dance all night. That's a bit of an exaggeration, because sometimes I have to beg them to dance, though mostly we do. One way I can get them to dance for sure, is if I promise not to ask for MJ. Then we all go break it down. One night, I swore I wouldn't ask....and they ended up asking for me. That probably had nothing to do with me sitting all frowny at the Imperial. But, they were the ones who dragged me on the floor that night. My best friend Tonya, laughs so hard when I dance because I probably look like a fool, but I have so much fun.

This one DJ calls me Billy Jean Girl and rarely remembers Roberta. Sometimes he calls me Rebecca. (But, I got use to that one a long time ago.) I use to have to make pouty faces to get him to play any MJ at all. And swear that all my friends would dance with me -which is why they sometimes do an MJ-ban. It got to the point that sometimes I wouldn't have to ask, he would see me and just play it. That always got me going because my friends will stop dancing and look at me. Then I have to try to explain, over the music, while dancing and trying to get them to join in, that I didn't ask. But we always have a super good time, MJ notes or not!

Dancing is therapeutic and my latest thing has been Dancing With the Stars - Maksim Chmerkovskiy has quickly become my favorite over the last two seasons!  I wish I had the time and a partner to take ball room lessons. That would be so flippin' awesome. Though, I know traditional ball room dancing isn't like the show.

Michael Jackson is the World's King, not just the King of Pop. He's a talent beyond reckoning. I can safely say, about Michael, that in my generation, or my children's, or my even my great-grandchildren's, there will never be another entertainer like him. Never another to break his records because he set them and then re-broke them in death. He's a singer, a writer, a dancer, a poet, a musician, a father, a cook, an idol, a icon, a multi-talented God who has truly shed his flesh too soon. The man had millions at his command and the only message he tried to give us was to love and take care of one another and care for our planet before we kill it. He could have created an army, planted any idea and we all would have followed without question. He truly could have been a modern Messiah. 

We love you Michael! Forever inspirational!

My friend Chris and I dancing. Well, I was mostly acting out for the camera. But who cares, cause we rocked it!

The Phenomenon of Talk Shows

How desperate and bored do you have to be to go on a talk show?

For the last week I’ve been unemployed.  In the midst of looking for a job for a few days, I’ve had the distraction of talk shows. Mainly Maurey and the Steve Wilkos show.  As I’m watching these shows, I don’t feel so bad for myself anymore. These people are so ghetto and so trashy. Or at least act that way.

Clearly, these people have nothing better to do than to go on a talk show. But I can’t talk too much smack, because I’m sitting at home watching it. As I’m watching these shows I’m wondering what drives these people to call talk shows and put their lives on national television like this. I understand Oprah and Dr. Phil or even Ellen because they discuss real life issues like the woman’s role in the household or child abuse. But some of the guest on some other shows are nuts.

I watched Maurey the other morning and this black girl from the south was fighting with her boyfriend because after 4 years he started denying their children and accusing her of cheating. Obviously this couple is having some major issues and probably don’t belong together. But why go to a talk show to determine paternity of your children.  Why go on a talk show and air your dirty secrets for the entire world. Its great entertainment for some people, but not at my expense. I suppose, some of the guests may not be able to afford paternity or lie-detector testing without the show.

The funny thing is, when these folks get on stage, they just act a hot mess. There’s no other way to describe it, but a hot mess. One girl was 17 and talking about how she wanted a baby because she just started babysitting and loves little kids. She had on a honey brown wig. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard at a talk show. She had such an attitude and was trying to smack her lips and roll her eyes all the time. Flipping off the audience telling the host she didn’t care and that she would never take birth control again. Then her parents came out. And I could tell they were hard working people. A middle-class southern family. They gave that girl everything she wanted and even bought her a Land Rover when she turned 16. She was on stage pointing in her mother’s face and cussing her. The kid was so rude and I thought her mother was going to slap her at one point. They gave her a doll and she named it Damarius or some dumb ghetto name. After a while, I had to wonder if it was acting.

When I picked my friend up from the airport and told her about all the talk shows I was watching, she told me that most of those people are paid for going on. That got me wondering. It can’t be a large amount of money. So, I keep coming back to the same question…why go on national tv? Each guest cant’ be getting more than a thousand dollars? Maybe some are actors, but they really suck if they are.

I’m so glad I start working again next week. I can’t take anymore daytime drama.

She's a bad Mammer-Jammer!

Chalise's post got me thinking about my grandmother. More than I usually do.

I worry about her a lot. She's on oxygen and has been for the last three or so years. She's been smoking for 55 of her 71 years. And I'm so far away.

She doesn't have cancer or any sickness, just week lungs. Her back is really bad from hard labor and two jobs at a time all her life. Farming at home, waiting tables, catering events, medical assisting, nursing and raising kids in between. My dear grandmother is tired. And she thinks she has the flu this week.

About 12 years ago she was working in a nursing home and a restaurant. Somehow she pulled her back out and had to quit both jobs. Since then, her back hasn't been the same and movement is hard for her. For the last couple years all she's really been able to do is bake cookies and sew. Anything more than that is extremely tiring. She can babysit or drive to the store, but then she sleeps the next day. My poor grandmother has been reduced to watching news television and being nosy all day long.

She has nothing better to do than get in everyones business and cause problems spreading rumors. But what everyone doesn't realize is that, most of the time, she doesn't really mean too. Her life was dramatically reduced from 65 hour a week worker to house-gram. When she goes to an aunt's house, all she can do is cook and look at the kids. Of course she wants to know every detail of what's going on in our lives. All she can do to help us, is pray us through. Physically, she's useless. The only power she had left is prayer. That's all she can do for us these days.

I don't mind telling her the little details of what's going on in my life. In fact, I think she makes things better for me. Yes, she can be dramatic and negative sometimes, but she does more good than harm. We all know when she gets on her "God bless George Bush" political and "God will smite thee" religious kicks, she goes a little past obnoxious. She just needs to feel needed again and doesn't know how else to do it other than throwing her idea's into your situation. I'm the only one who calls her everyday. I'm sure the other cousins only call her when they need something sewn or to borrow her car or something.

It pisses me off that everyone can talk shit about her and how nutty she was during the last conversation. But no one really looks at what she does for us. She's the matriarch of an Army. She has 8 children, over 25 grands and 1 great grandson. She prays us all through. So, yeah the crazy republican in her is hard to deal with at times, but we owe her almost everything.

There is a lot more I can say about my grandmother and how my family treats her. For the most part, we're good to her. They sent her on an Alaskan cruise last sumer. They all pitch in and get her nice birthday, mother's day and Christmas gifts. But what she really loves and craves, is to feel needed. I wish that my cousins, aunts and uncles would take more time for her. Take her out to lunch or diner. Go to the movies with her. Call and say that your taking her shopping this weekend. Randomly stop in for coffee, even though she drinks the nastiest re-microwaved crap with no sugar and whole milk and cookies. She always has some kind of sweet something just out of the oven. She just needs some attention.

I guess I'm being over dramatic about her because she's on oxygen. I just worry about her all the time. She really is lonely, even though we are a huge group. I wish I was closer to her so I could do all these things. But my life is in Alaska and I can only go home for a few weeks, at most. I can see her living on oxygen and hobbling around her little in-law apartment for another ten years, but I can also see it getting ugly very fast too.

She means a lot to me. And her health is no help these days. Now, all I can do is return the favor and pray her through as best I can.

Wrought Iron Microwave Stand

So, those of you who know me¸ know that I love grapes and vines. As a fruit and plant in general, grape vines are one of the prettiest things to me. I even tattooed them on my foot and ankle. I’m fairly fond of a cheap bottle of wine too. But at the moment I would like to talk about my kitchen!

I finally have my own apartment and will do anything to maintain it, hence the reason I’m only taking two classes and trying to work full time. In the last two weeks I’ve decided my apartment should no longer look like a box. I bought some gently used furniture, accessories and plants for my living room. Spent two hours, Saturday night, cleaning my bathroom - forty-five minutes scrubbing my roommate bed-tanned skin from the tub and walls and the rest of the time vacuuming cat litter from every crevice imaginable.  I don’t really have a dining room, but I do have a super tiny little kitchen.

When I went into Wal-Mart this weekend, to get soap and conditioner, I left with plates, kitchen accessories and ridiculously expensive face-wash too! I decided my pastel purple Goodwill plates had earned a dusty spot on the top shelf because I wanted new Corelle plates that I can’t break. (Knock on wood because I am a clutz if ever there was one.) They aren’t the classiest, but they aren’t bad either, and I’m working with Wal-Mart and Fred’s here! Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw what looked like a grape on a mat. There was this incredibly cute kitchen mat, with three bushels, half tucked under something else and looking like it need me to take it home; had to have it. Upon side stepping back towards the plates, I noticed a seven piece set of dishtowels and oven-mitts with grapes and leaves too; they looked homeless as well!

Then my mother piped in and told me to leave. Keep in mind, I’m a poor college student with a shopping problem, so even though I was only in Wal-Mart and not Macy’s or Pottery Barn, the need to decorate my kitchen was overwhelming. I tend to call my mother and Grandmothers when I’m shopping. For company, but mostly to metaphorically slap me when I “ooo and ahh” at cheap crap I don’t really need. So, my mother finally got stern and no matter how old I am, that voice makes my eyes get big and my lip stick out. Thus, I proceeded straight to the checkout with my tail between my legs.

For the last couple of day’s I’ve been trying to make my kitchen look nice. This includes forcing myself to clean, because I don’t like to and I’m really not good at doing it immediately. The first set of plates I got was black and white and didn’t match the green and mauve grapes at all. The second set was pastel blue and green and didn’t work either, even though they are the same plates my step-papa has and I love them. The third set would have matched ok, but I decided to go to Fred’s for a look before anything was concrete. Three sets of dishes, means three trips to Wal-Mart in three days. (So sick of that place and I still have to go back to get a mirror and wall-hook-stickies for the shower because my new roommate isn’t allowed to shave in the bathroom sink.) I just wanted to check before I got all the way back to Douglas…and sitting there was perfection from heaven with a halo!

The perfect set of dishes. They would be 110% right if the green was darker and the white was cream, but they are the absolute best I can do in Juneau, without online shopping and spending tons of money. My kitchen is coming together wonderfully. But I would like to move my fourteen year old “free-be microwave” onto a stand to make room for my hand-mixer base and soon to purchase Cuisinart! Well, the chandelle in my “dining area,” if you can call it that yet, is wrought metal, so I would like a black/green metal microwave stand with grapes and vines that holds wine too. I looked online for half an hour and finally found a “wine table” on lowes.com. Its $152.40 plus shipping to ALASKA. I want it. But I can’t get it just yet.

Then it dawned on me that my mother has the exact stand I’m looking for and her stand has shelves too! So, I went on her facebook, which she only made yesterday, to ask her for it. One of our cousins’ in California thinks it’s a good idea and that I “soooooo” should have it. (Me too!!) But here’s the funny part, “Hey Ma! Wanna dismantle your microwave stand and mail it to me from Massachusetts? Please!”  I guess I really better save my pennies for the one on lowes.com. But if I get it in the distant future, with my Cuisinart, this means I have to get a stainless steel or sleek black microwave to set on it. I’m such a consumer it’s not even funny!

I guess I better keep my fingers crossed for one of those eight jobs that I applied for yesterday, so I can stay in my apartment beyond December 1!!

Diamond-hard Contradictions

My summer job is ending and I’m reflecting on the last six months. I’ve fallen in love with so many people on so many levels, for the second year. One coworker in particular means the most, but he’s another blog all of his own. These people drive me up a wall, but I love them so much. Each of them has an individual place in my heart.

I work for a seasonal diamond broker. The largest in Juneau and pretty much in Alaska. We have over 130 stores across the Caribbean. We are one of 86 companies who buy rough stones directly from mines. Once, I was proud to be a part of this. Once, I loved it, breathed it; it was all I wanted. Now, I just don’t know. The saying “it takes one apple to spoil the bunch,” is true. One bad manager made me hate my job, made me miserable when I was there and did her best to control me when I was on my own time.

There can be such good times in this store. Just plain, loving one another fun. But there’s always got to be that one cunt that stinks up the atmosphere. Sucks the love out of the air like some mythical Harry Potter beast. Lucky me, I happen to have that manager this season. We know I have a problem with demanding people in general, but this was over the top. And I can only take part of the blame.

This has been one of the hardest summers. And I’ve had some rotten summers in my past. When you wake up every morning and beg your roommates to call you in sick, you’ve got it bad.

But, I can’t only complain because there are the people I need. The people, I smile to see every day. The ones I hug and love and coddle and pray for. These are the people who drive me the most crazy, but that’s only because they mean so much. I can have the sourest look on my face and it only takes one of them to come say something stupid and flip my emotions. This is what makes my job so worth it. These happy people that I’m in love with. I party with them, sleep with them, eat with them and work with them ten hours a day, six days a week. Some of them, I can’t get enough of!

And then there’s the one I really love. The one I know is in the room because I smell him before I look up to see him. The one who calls/texts when I think of him. The one whose expressions I can read before he vocalizes what he wants. The one who had leopard eyes when the sun hits them at the right angle. The sketchy one, who took my heart in an afternoon. The one who won’t let me in because he’s afraid of too many things and too insecure to ask for my help. Nonetheless, I love him.

This is what I’m giving up. Last year when the season ended, I clung to the idea that they would all be back in April. And they did come back. But this season, I’m relieved they are leaving because I want that energy off my rock. I want Diamonds International to leave Alaska and leave me alone. Get out of Juneau. I feel bitter resentment towards the company because of one manager. I don’t want this, because I truly love my job and would be glad to do it again next year. Or even travel with them. However, her damage is done. She pushed and pushed and got her way. When I say don’t push me, back off. I exploded so many times because I had no other option.  She may have won this battle she created, but Karma never rests. All she’s done to me, will come back and bite her in the ass when it’s ready and she least expects it.

I can’t dwell on the angry, but I’m sure not ready to forget it. I am going to miss so many people and really the sadness is setting in. Last year I had an anxiety attack on my last day and I think I will this year too. Oct. 2 is just around the corner. I guess bitter-sweet is the way to describe this. I want them gone but I will miss them.

For nothing.

Welcome to Our World!

Some are born in rough places, but shine despite. Like diamonds. The world’s most prized natural element. They come from dirt, from pits. They are hard beauties, resilient, nearly indestructible.

Diamonds must be dug from the earth with detail and care. Gently washed, weighed and whisked away for clarity and shape categorization. Then they are cut.  Sliced with precision from all directions; angled, pointed, perfected. Polished and mount into a rhodium plated setting. A serial number microscopically etched into its side, to assure its place in GIA history. And then it’s polished some more, tagged and stuck in a case for all to see.

This is my story. Though, I’m still in the cleaning phase of this “ground to pedestal" path. Next on my list, is to lose the extra layers that make me so ugly and even from those chips will come something precious. One day I’ll make history, all will know my name, where I come from. I'll be tagged as his own and mounted on my setting. finally, placed on the perfect case for display and I'll be complete.

Welcome to Our World.