It's Been A Caps Lock Kind of Day

NO. 

SERIOUSLY. 

EVERYTHING IS FINE!!

I AM SOOOO.GOOD.

REALLY.

On a completely different note, have you read Stuart Little? The movie is pretty popular, but the book was written in the 1970s and is by E.B. White. He also wrote Charlotte's Web which made me weep in the second to last chapter when I read it for the first time last week. I'd only ever seen the movie. I didn't cry in the movie, so that leaves me wondering how many truly gratifying reading experiences will be stolen by the need to compress a story in a consumable two hour piece.

Anyway, in the book Stuart Little, E.B. White tells us that Stuart was simply born looking like a mouse. 

As in he wasn't adopted or anything.

Like, Mrs. Little gave birth to a two inch mouse?

Quesiton 1: Is it me, or is that just the creepiest thing you've ever heard of?

Question 2: How did something creepy get past an editor?

What I Want from People

Let's dispense with the "I want everyone to like me" expectation. I don't.

Maybe it's because I'm getting older, but I don't care whether anyone likes me.

Gasp, even you?

Yes.

Look, I definitely like you or I'm sure we'll like each other if we ever meet. Still, I'm not worrying about it. I figure if you don't like me, it's cool. I've got people who do like me and you'll find someone who you like and we'll all live happily ever after and it'll be awesome and stuff.

It's not that I'm a sociopath or anything. It's just that I spent most of my life trying to be liked and to get people to like me. As a result, I'm something of a finished product in the "likability" department. Also, I've come to the realization that most people decide whether they like you or not before they have any time to make a real, fact based decision. They'll take into account the way you dress, your politics, race, religion, whatever and maybe the first 500 words they hear you say and make a decision.

All this to say, that most of the time when someone likes or dislikes you, a small percentage of it has to do with you and the majority of it has to do with them.

Lest you think I'm being a braggart about my evolved sense of self confidence, please do know that I have very far to go in the "eat more salads", "exercise at ALL" and "get enough sleep" department. We all have our stuff we need to work on, right? Point is, one of the things I no longer wish to work on is being liked.

You like me? AWESOME!!

You don't? Yay, thanks for saving us both time.

Either way? GO YOU!

But, respect?

Well, I need that. 

I once read that the need for respect is a function of ego and that people who wanted respect or talked constantly of being disrespected had overdeveloped senses of how important they are. 

I don't know. I don't think I'm super important. Maybe moderately important? A person's sense of self importance is tied directly to how much of an impact they feel the have on the people around them, their community, their nation, their planet, etc.

I take care of my family, I participate in my communty, I care deeply about our nation, I recycle, so... I guess I think I'm moderately important.

Still, my need for respect is definitely not about having people recognize or reaffirm my sense of self importance or even my contribution. I ask for respect from others because I feel like it's a sign that the other is recognizing the wholeness of my character.

If someone questions that, I feel disrespected.

It's hard for me to move past someone choosing not to read me in the best of lights. 

That's less about importance and more about integrity.

For All of Us. #WhyIVote

Let's go back to this one time in religion class in undergraduate. My professor who was and, I presume, still is a woman intimated that most world religions are patriarchal because women tended to get busy with things.

No, seriously.

She said it exactly (mostly) like that. She said that women tended to get busy with taking care of children, cooking, etc., and that perhaps men rising the echelons of power was less about men oppressing women, and more about women saying, "Whatever, yes, you can be in charge of interpreting religious texts just as long as you take the kids to the park before you do it."

At nineteen, I wasn't super on board with this theory.

I'm still not on board with it. I've studied enough history to know that hierarchy is just as much aggression as it is apathy, if not more aggression and less apathy. I mean, it's easy to be apathetic when you don't have an arsenal. But I digress.

When I heard earlier this week that Babble was promoting the creation of pinterest boards based on the phrase "Why I Vote," I was forced to review the basic motivators I have for voting. For many, these reasons have to do with reproductive rights, foreign policy, economy or education. Those issues most definitely impact my vote, but they are not why I vote.

I don't go to the polls to further my agenda.

Please click over to Babble to read the rest of this post on Babble Voices' Native Born and Raised...

((Thanks.))

I've Been Writing. Just Not Here.

Did I mention I got a day job? I did! You are now reading the words of an assistant to a montessori elementary class. I'm having a terrific time, etc., but have been regrettably busy "assisting" and what not. 

This doesn't mean, of course, that you've lost your full access pass to all things Faiqa.

Here's me being self righteous about world hunger.

From "Children Are Starving in Africa. So, Eat That." on Babble.

“There are children starving in Africa.”

I’m not making this up. That’s exactly what she said.

The kids hadn’t finished their lunches or something. She thought they were being wasteful. With a heart full of beautiful intention, she sought to imbue them with perspective. Instead her words plunged me into a deep state of irritation and anxiety.

There are children starving in Africa.

And then here I am being very un-self righteous. Because consistency is for weenies. 

From "Helicopter, Free Range or Honey Boo Boo Parenting? Who Cares" also on Babble.

According to Lenore Skenazy, author of Free-Range Kids, I’m a negative symptom of the stranger danger campaigns of the early and mid-eighties and am hindering my children’s developing self reliance and their independent social maturity. Parents who won’t let their children ride the subway alone or play in Central Park unattended are control freaks — obsessed with their own sense of security rather than their children’s good, don’t you know?

Wait, there's more. Let me tell you about my mutha, Dr. Freud.

From "Coming Soon to a Theater Near You: I've Become My Mother":

"Even thinking about the movie The Exorcist creeps me out. Like, just now, my husband just walked into our room while I was typing this and I almost peed in my pants because I thought it was the devil. I once tried to read The Exorcist, but couldn't finish it. The book makes the movie feel like that episode of "The Cosby Show" when they sang on the staircase and Rudy was all "BAAAABY!!" Which is to say that the movie is a cake walk because every time I finished a page of the book… I almost peed in my pants because I thought the devil was under my bed.

These days I find myself living in a benign, yet twisted version of my own horror movie."

BUT.WAIT.

There's even MORE. 

"I just wish that I could, like, possess the body of the body of someone who does PR for Mitt Romney. I'd be like, 'So, the good news is that we have a celebrity endorsement. The bad news is that it's Nikki Minaj."

From the Hey! That's My Hummus podcast episode "Voter Registration Laws and Creationism".

That title makes it sound like creationism and the attempts at revising voter registration are somehow related... which they probably will be if some people have their way.

Anyway, it was good catching up with you.

How are YOU?

Hunger Games and Happy Marriages

Last night, we watched Hunger Games on Blu-Ray.

We could have watched it in the theater when it came out, but we sat on the couch last night and watched instead. Sometimes, when we can't get a sitter, we complain about how far we've come since that day about ten years ago when we walked into a movie theater on a Thursday night and discovered we'd seen every movie that was out.

I think the last movie we saw in a theater was Abraham Lincoln Vampire Slayer. Which was dope.That's my new phrase. I'm brining back "dope", "phat" and "boss." Wait. People still say "boss", don't they? It's not surprising because "boss' is pretty, well, boss.

Here are some excerpts from our dual commentary.

Me: OhmyGOODNESS, you should definitely grow a flamey beard.

Him: I was thinking the same thing. He looks smooth.

Me: Ew.

Me: Did he just snap that boy's neck with his bare hands? Okay, he's just a douche.

Him: They say that once you kill one person, then you know…::creepy eyebrow raise::"

Me: Of course she's going to go, he needs medicine, she HAS to go, why is he telling her not to go, he's being stupid.

Him: Are we still talking about the movie?

Me: Yes. Maybe. Okay. No.

Me: Bad guy mistake number one…

Him: Never tell the good guys how you're going to kill them.

Me: Oh, look that's like when we had to rub Flexall on each other's knees that one time.

Tariq: Don't ever say that again.

Him: Hey, where did HE come from? My money is on him -- the Black guy is going to win.

Me:I think that might be racist.

Him: It's not racist if I think he's going to win.

Me: I also think you haven't seen enough movies with endearing Black men.

Here's a little revelation: I don't like going to the movies with my husband because I love talking to him more than anything. He thinks I don't talk to him enough, but I don't think he realizes that I'm not much for small talk and all the big talk can get tiring. There's only so many times you can contemplate the mysteries of the universe in the context of humankind's existential dilemma.

The "how was your day" conversation isn't my forte though it seems to come easily to a lot of people,. 

The reason I love talking to my husband during movies or otherwise isn't because he's smart, which he is. Or clever, which he can be. Or even interesting, which he is 99% of the time (economic policy is not interesting, honey. Sorry, it just isn't.) It's not that he gets me mostly.

It's that he makes me laugh. Not just any laugh, when I'm with him I laugh with my whole heart.  It's not easy on a marriage -- having little children.

We argue. We get passive aggressive or, better yet, aggressive aggressive. But in those moments when we're both laughing so hard that the tears are coming out, I know it's fine. I know we're meant for each other.

Because we laugh.

And seem to have a penchant for mediocre one liners. 

Is there a quality in someone you love that feels redemptive for you and them? What is it? And why? 

You may open your blue books… now.