I had attempted to write a poem about this morning, but I know all too well that poetry is not my forte. I tend to fall into cliches, but not like social media, where I can taste colors, and smell words. I speak of sunlight as if it's the dawn of man, when the reality is it's merely the yawn of man and beast. We both yawned, Swag and I, then stretched, his more graceful and with much less crackling. He runs, I limp, both waiting to greet the day. His prep takes less time, as pantless and shirtless is proper attire for my feline friend. He will later walk back upstairs, while I carry his food. Zig-zagging against my legs, showing his appreciation, tail standing tall. I"ve beaten this theme to death: the morning sun, the hope of a new day, the inevitable good and bad, the struggle to sleep, all just to repeat this moment, hopefully without rain. Today will be different I tell myself, as I stare at the same mug, on the same table, on the same deck. Forty-six days from now it will, but where. It's all I can think of; that and how to afford it. The three C's of my morning: cat, coffee, calm. A motorcycle reminds me it's close to ending. The dogs will bark, the feet will stomp, the neighbors will yell, or laugh, or the beeps of a truck will be deafening. I woke to the sounds of birds chirping, drowning out the drone sounds from a fan, but they are already being overtaken by the sounds of rubber on asphalt, the squeak of brakes, and the occasional horn. Laundry, breakfast, internet, a cocktail, a job search, a drive to the bank, store, or anywhere. I have two dollars in my wallet, yes, really, and right now it's all I need. That is until I need more. Don't we always need more, no matter how much we have? I don't want to be we anymore. We is for Facebook, our social circles, our communities, towns, cities. We is everything we do for everyone else's acceptance. I'm too old to care and I don't need a single thing to define me; until I do.
This was a post I wrote on Facebook after surprisingly not seeing any moaning about the Documentary by Jose Antonio Vargas, titled White People Dayyum! I just scrolled my timeline and not a single white person got their feelings hurt by White People. I unfortunately haven't seen it, but the number of fake accounts that popped up on twitter, tells me it was a damn good show. Here's the thing. If someone of color aka non-white says "White Privilege," are you offended? If you said yes, then you are exhibiting white privilege. It has nothing to do with how hard you work or study, how you stayed out of trouble, because here's the thing, that is entirely the point. Somewhere out there, there are 100 Black, Spanish, Native American, Arab, Asian, who worked and studied as hard as you and never got in trouble, but they don't have what you "earned" or achieved. Stop looking at the one person you know who isn't white that achieved as your benchmark. Loo
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