Yeah...and so, anyway...

Well, I guess it was inevitable--my Windows XP system crashed, so I have no computer access at home until I either buy another operating system, or buy another computer. I guess it comes down to whichever one is cheaper. It's a real bummer because I need to do some writing. There's a creative writing workshop at UC San Diego coming up, and I would very much like to attend. But since I need to submit two short stories before March 1, and I have only one written, I guess I'm SOL. So much for that bright idea. They say everything happens for a reason, and ordinarily I agree with that. It's just that right now the reason sucks, in my opinion. Sorry. I'm also sick. On top of that, I have to attend a committed meeting in an hour or else I have to deal with my sponsor in the morning. Life happens, I guess. Whatever. At least I'm not eating over any of it. That's the only thing I'm grateful for right now. That, and the fact that today I do have a roof over m...

I forgot to write about something very dear to me, or rather someone. That person is my grandson, Xavier, who is my heart. My daughter Clarissa (his mama)brought him over to my place last night, and I'm telling you, I was in heaven! At five months old, he is holding his own bottle (even tips it up when the formula is running low), grabbing everything he can get his hands on, and trying his best to squirm his way out of someone's arms so he can explore the room by himself. He's Nana's sweet baby BIG boy! You should see the hands and feet on this kid, they're enormous! I thought about him a lot on Valentine's Day. I know every grandmother says this about her grandbabies, but he is the sweetest, most beautiful little boy ever! I just love cuddling him; he grabs my face, covers it with slobber (two teeth have come in) and laughs uproariously. Love is being with my grandson! Also, please read Brother Phillipe Copeland's blog "Baha'i Thought and Black...

Y'all have fun with Loki? No? Too bad, so sad. Actually, I'm not sad at all, but I figured I would say that to help you feel better. Anyway, I did absolutamente nada yesterday. I didn't want to see one red balloon or a single red rose. Not to mention chocolates. I didn't want to have to hurt someone. So I stayed at home, read a bit and watched two movies on DVD. And I did my recovery work. That's about all I could handle. As a dear friend in Faith and recovery once told me, this is intensive care. Right now, my apartment is my ICU. It won't be that way forever, but yesterday it was a necessity. It occurred to me that none of you will see the story that I wrote for publication because it will be published as part of a literary journal, which also means writing por gratas. But publishing credits look good to literary agents. Since there's no money changing going on, I figure I might as well post it here to a wider audience. Yes, like any other person i...

The moon has moved out of Aquarius, but that hasn't made a difference to me. Loki has run amuck. It's a situational deal--the opportunity to cause mayhem is just too irresistible. So let's take inventory right now. It's February 14, and you've got your love jones (love sickness) going on: Will he call? Will she call? Will anyone call? This sucks because I HAVE no one! Awwwwww...poor thing. And on top of everything, mean ole' Angela (a very good woman, IMO) made you take that love addiction test yesterday, and it's completely blown your V-Day mind. Don't worry, dear heart (snicker), Loki's got your Valentine Daze card RIGHT HERE! What??? You didn't LIKE that one? O.K., maybe this is better! I just LOVE the look on dudes' faces when this song plays! Come on, do the copy and paste thing, then click on it! You'll love it! The ladies do! Hee, hee! http://search.playlist.com/tracks/babyface-soon-as-I-get-home "I'll pay yo...

Now, you might ask yourself, what does Angela mean by "Happy Valley Daze!"? Well,I did warn you--my mischievous and sometimes downright nasty Gemini moon woke me up this morning fully charged and ready to pillage and plunder the hearts and souls of all unsuspecting lurkers of this blog. Sorry folks, but if you've read this far you're already in too deep. Deal with it. As for the title--it's my twisted and demented version of that most contemptible of observances, Valentine's Day. Yes, I know today is February 13--here in the U.S. of A. But there's a great big old world out there beyond these North American shores, in case you didn't know. Geography of the world is still part of the elementary school curriculum, last I checked. Yet many Americans are seem woefully unaware of the fact that there are other countries on this planet besides the United States. Well, guess what? I've traveled to some of those places, courtesy of the United States Air ...

For some reason, I have a lot to say today. So I'm going to go for it, and post more than one blog. Maybe tomorrow I'll wake up and look at my computer with complete abhorrence. But just for today, it is my friend. Kind of like a relationship, isn't it? One minute adoration, and then, wham, out of nowhere: "I hate you." Isn't being human wonderful? I started out my day in what is now my routine--morning prayer upon waking, bathroom, call to sponsor, prayer and quiet time, breakfast, then checking email and other interesting things on the web. I wandered over to Neil Gaiman's journal, and read what he had to say about health care in this country from the perspective of someone raised in the U.K., and the precarious nature of having health benefits for people who write for a living: "I was born and spent the first 2/3rds of my life in the UK, in a world in which health care was simply a human right. You got it, like an education, by virtue of bei...

LOL! Only two other people in the world know why this funny! Well...maybe, three!

For My Sun, Marc! Does this bring back any memories? Pudding Pop! Do the Dirty Bird! Reverend Slick! And I found that video clip of him eating that friend chicken--no, I'm NOT posting that! NASTY! LOL! The good ole' days, my son and me in the front row of the WWF shows!

Next chapter in Angela's ongoing recovery saga: Sunday morning, my sponsor told me a story that gave me the cold shudders coupled with enormous amount of gratitude for narrowly escaping death at the hands of this addiction. Years ago, she was in a different food-related 12 step program with an African American woman who I will refer to as "Dee" (not her real name). Dee came into the program weighing close to, if not over, 600 pounds. She couldn't walk more than a few inches at a time, and used a specially designed electric wheelchair to get around. Once, she asked to borrow ten dollars from my sponsor, who told her that she would give it to her if Dee came over to her house get the money. Dee said she had to take a shower and get dressed, then she would come over. Two hours later, Dee hadn't shown up. My sponsor called her to see what was taking her so long. Dee was just then putting her clothes on. She couldn't just get up, take a shower and get dresse...

I finished revising the story, and it's in the pipe to the editor. It was a struggle, but I got it done, along with my homework. That's a good feeling. Bad feeling--I'm losing one-third of my income. I'm considered permanently disabled because of my missing left hip, but since I've worked in excess of nine months over the past two years, I'm showing the ability to work. This action doesn't take into account that I a) don't work more than twenty hours a week, and earn very little money; b) I can't pay my rent with my earnings, much less live on it; c) I need the health benefits available through Medicare. So I have to go through the appeals process to get my benefits re-established. So no more working, at least for now. I can still take classes and volunteer in the Writing Center to keep my skills current, but only for a six hours a week. Serious bummer. But maybe this is a blessing. I have been praying for the courage to submit a proposal to l...

Every once and a great while, I pull my head out of a book long enough to have a conversation with the other passengers on the train ride home from work. It's not that I'm anti-social; I just want to be alone with my thoughts (more about that later)after a day of explaining and demonstrating subject-verb agreement and topic sentences. But today, one of the "tutees" (students who come into the college's Writing Center for tutoring)was on the train, and of course, she wanted to talk about a paper that she has to do. Wonderful. The absolute last thing I want to talk about on my way home. I steered the conversation to another subject, and before I knew it, everyone sitting nearby was joining in. I'm not sure how it happened, but I think it all started when the tutee said, "See that guy who just got off the train? He tried to get me to sleep with him on Monday." Somehow, that ignited a lively discussion about women and men, dating, cooking and worki...

First, the good...one of my stories is about to be published. The bad news is that I have to do major revisions on it before it's ready for publications. By THIS Friday! I got the call (actually, the email) from the editor last night. And like most editors, she wanted the revisions yesterday. I can't even remember my name half the time these days, and she wants me to revise a piece of writing that I did four months ago? The only thing I know for sure is: a) there is a God, and I'm leaning heavily on Him right now just to make it through the day; b) I talk to my sponsor very early in the morning, every morning; c) I eat three tiny meals (so they seem to me) a day with nothing but water or black coffee or tea in between; d) I attend three meetings a week and talk at least three different people each day, none of whom I know very well; e) I've uncovered deep pockets of self-loathing that I never knew existed. As a result, I pray a lot to keep my sanity. And somehow...

I did it. I voted. And I'm moving on with life. I will know the results of primaries later on tonight, after I get back from my meeting. But one thing is bothering me--as a Baha'i, I do not participate in partisan politics, so I check "decline to state" as my political affiliation. Usually, this is not a problem. But for reasons that I fail to comprehend, my lack of political affiliation was an issue when I got to my polling place. I still don't know what happened, but from what I can make out, the Republican party didn't want my independent vote. I would have to be a Republican to vote for any of their candidates. (Ahem. Angela, restrain thyself. You are a Baha'i.) Democrats would accept my vote. They apparently don't care--Dem, independent, Green, Purple, Libertarian, Peace and Freedom, PETA, Bathe, Communist...well, maybe not Communist. Or Bathe. Whatever. The Dems will take anyone's vote as long as they darken the circle or punch ...

The article that I'm posting could have been written by me. I'm stunned that it wasn't because it tells my story almost precisely. There are some differences: I was my mother's confident and personal counselor; it was she who used guilt and rage to control what I did, how I felt, and what I thought. My father was the alcoholic, but just like the young man's mother, he was pretty much wrapped up in his own life. However, we do have similar nicknames given to us: his was "Honeyboy" and my father called me, "Honey". He still does. I have to say, I feel strange posting this. I'm not only violating my family's "don't talk about family business to anyone outside this house", but there's the larger version of the "don't talk" rule that envelops the African American community. This is sometimes referred to as "don't be putting your business out in the streets", or simply "don't be tell...

Yesterday was a rather different day at Sacramento City College. There was a small but noisy march for Barack Obama on campus, and I have to admit, I was very pleased that nearly all of the participants were young students of all races. That inspired me to drop in on the rally after I got off work at noon. I figured I would re-live some of my old experiences as a novice newspaper reporter, covering all the latest happenings around Sacramento. That's what I attempted to do, at least. It didn't always happen. There I go, talking about ancient history. I guess once you're a reporter, a part of you is always a reporter. Like I said, my journalistic curiosity was piqued by the loud chants of "It's time for a change! It's time for a change!" I decided to that I wanted to see if these young people were really ready for a change. The crowd in the Student Center was rather small, even by City College standards. There was a larger crowd in the cafeteria last semeste...