It’s over. It’s done. One of the most enjoyable series of books I, and many others, have ever read is done. I’ve just begun my second reading but wanted to make note of my first thoughts. The first time through is a whirlwind, trying to discover how it all ends. This second time I’ll be able to go through it a bit more carefully. Maybe these opinions will change.

Although I think only two people read my infrequently updated blog I’ll go ahead and say you should stop reading if you haven’t finished the book. I can’t imagine anyone who cares about it hasn’t finished by this point.

- The past two or three books have suffered from Rowling’s success. Like other blockbuster authors, editing has fallen by the wayside. Who cares if the page count is inflated with long, pointless indulgences? It’s going to sell millions anyway.

The main culprit this time around is the prolonged exile of Harry, Ron and Hermoine. Did we really need so many pages devoted to their endless camping trip? The few plot-forwarding bits that happened during that period could have been greatly condensed with no ill effects. I found my attention wandering so can only imagine what the average child reader felt.

-Along this line, why do all the HP books save the best for last? They seem to drag on (which was less painful when the kids were actually at Hogwarts and we had some decent subplots to keep us reading) until the predictable finale. (Harry confronts Voldemort, earth-shaking battle, all is well, end of term feast, the end). But it is only within this final splooge that we actually learn the majority of new, important information.

In the case of DH I think some of the most delicious scenes were what we saw through Snape’s memories. I understand that for the book to end as it did, Harry had to learn what he did at the end. But couldn’t have things ended the same while letting us know about Snape’s love for Lily Evans sooner? Snape has consistently been one of the best characters and I would have preferred to have more time to enjoy these glimpses of his character rather than having it all jumbled in with the frenetic ending.

-I’m very happy Snape was on the right side in the end. I don’t even mind that he was killed. He went the right way.

-The final protracted battle at Hogwarts was also an A++. Harry came off a bit gormless though as he wandered around distracted, his friends fighting tooth and nail all around him. I didn’t really understand what happened when he surrendered to Voldemort. He died and then, uh, he didn’t. Again, I thought of the children. If I was confused, surely they were giving up at this point. (Also, was that mewling, deformed baby at King’s Cross the bit of Voldemort which had been inside Harry?)

-Overall I think the deaths were a cop out. It was like when Rowling said a “major character” would die in GOF. Then Cedric Diggory was killed. Uh, yeah. Remus and Tonks, I expected at least one of them to bite it. Now with both gone and little Teddy an orphan fan fic-ers everywhere have a new sub-genre to explore. Fred, that did suck but there’s still George (Why not Percy? Nobody liked him anyway.) Dobby, I cried. Mad-Eye, well, not a ton of love lost (also, did anyone think the one-eyed begger in Diagon Alley might have been Mad-Eye?). Charity Burbage, who the hell was she? Did I miss the kids taking “Muggle Studies” at some point? Colin, meh. I was truly expecting, not the main three, but someone more prominent to die. Ginny, Neville, maybe Hagrid. I think Rowling took the soft option here.

-Some thoughts I’m still struggling with I think will have to wait until I finish this re-read. I keep thinking of something Rowling said about if Harry was a real kid, he would be severely damaged. How was he damaged by the end? How would the story have been if it had been Neville?

-The epilogue was a bit disappointing. All these warrior kids have become happy suburban families. LAME! I felt like it was just put in to placate sad fans rather than to give us anymore insight to this story. Then again she leaves herself open for sequels. I don’t believe the wizarding world will never fight it’s evil side again. Maybe the children, or the grand-children, of these heroes will rebel and try to embrace to power of the dark side. That would be a good second act. All I can hope is if that does happen it is by able hands. I just can’t stomach fan fic.

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A few days ago I was driving to the store and listening to Backspin on Sirius radio. Much to my delight they played “Criminal Minded” by Boogie Down Productions. It started as I was pulling into the parking lot so I shut off the engine and sat back to enjoy this blast from my past. When this record came out in 1987 I was 13 and my walkman constantly had either this cassette or Public Enemy inside. Now here I was, 20 years later, feeling my 13-year-old self being awakened.

The expereince was intense. This track gave me a rush of adolescent hope, passion and angst that I had forgotten long, long ago. Goose-bumps rose on my flesh as I was broght back to the two-room garage apartment my family had been living in. I escaped the poverty, hunger, substance abuse and fear in my life by wearing headphones, blasting this song. I walked to the library each week and checked out tomes of philosophy and books on the history of Apartheid. I was a strange child. It does not suprise me that I had no friends. This was before the mainstream acceptance of rap and if I tried to talk to my peers about BDP or PE I got nothing but a solitary lunch table.

But this didn’t bother me. I had plans that transcended the kids I went to school with, my family, and the city where I lived. The cassetes I was wearing out and the musty books I read gave me a glimpse of a life beyond everything I knew. I was going to get away from all of it. I was going to use the passion burning inside of me to change the world. Here now, at 33, KRS-One and Scott LaRock were reminding me of this. With my eyes closed, listening to this song on the oldies rap station, I felt all those hopes of dreams of my young self as if it was again 1987. I was reeling.
Do you ever wonder what your younger self would say if she could see your adult life? I think mine would be bewildered and probably disappointed. What happened to the revolution I was going to lead? Where was the solitary, trail-blazing life I was going to lead? Life has a strange way of giving you the business. That little radical weirdo couldn’t not have forseen the way poor health would have it’s way with my body and mind. She couldn’t have imagined that the issues my parents struggled with, which I had despised, would find their way into my life as well. She wouldn’t understand the way manipulative, damaged people can crush the spirit of even the most self-confident person. Even with everything she had already seen in her short life the truth was she didn’t know what life was yet. Books and records were merely representations of it. The reality was life never works out the way you expect.

But on the positive side, my adult self is safer and more secure than that child ever was. I know a contentment and peace that she was deseparately searching for in her library books and this new thing called hip-hop. These days I’m a little more bruised up, dream a little closer to ground and for the most part music is just something I listen to on my iPod while riding the bus. I enjoy it but I know better than to use it as the blueprint my life. Still, for a few minutes, to feel what a song - just some rhymes and some beats - could do to me was exhilirating.

Then the song ended and I went inside to buy my groceries.

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• Older Hispanic woman in an Outkast t-shirt and lime green slacks.
• Man in ripped jeans, oversized mangey, mustard colored suit jacket and a bad, matted jheri curl. Sits in front of me, smelling like he slept at the bottom of a steel reserve can, and begins talking loudly on a cell phone. “Conversation” (somehow I doubt there was anyone on the other line) includes tidbits such as “Just put it on the card.” “I haven’t been in the office yet this morning but will be there soon.” Grabs another cell phone, while still talking into one, and begins texting on it. Pulls yet another phone off his belt and begins reading off a number.

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Okay not really but that song, “Girlfriend” by Avril Lavigne, is on frequent rotation in my head. I heard it and “Cupid’s Chokehold” by Gym Class Heroes (?) at my brother’s house. The kids loved them. Sounded like Disney pop crap to me (minus the cussin’) at first but they stuck. Love them now. Also liking Green Day’s cover of “Working Class Hero”. Have always loved that song so am glad to hear someone redo it. Although I’m sure Lennon would turn over in his grave if he knew it was performed on American Idol. And “Imagine” on Dancing with the Stars. Ugh.

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In the past month I’ve really given up all attempts at sociability. I tend to think that my ability to maintain social obligations and friendships is a reflection of my health. But maybe not. Maybe I’m just a loner and should learn to be happy with that.

Either way I’ve stopped trying to make myself be social for awhile. The guilt and self-loathing when I fail, or worse actually am social and then hate my own awkwardness, just isn’t worth it.

Hermit-tude, represent.

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Why must u brake harts?

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Loving:

- lemon in water

- finishing medium-level tour in Guitar Hero

- “Bet That” - Trick Daddy

- “Jealousy” - PPT

- Dwayne Wayde/Charles Barkley T-Mobile commercials (”sexy”)
Hating:

- Baron Davis

- “I Tried” Bone Thugs ‘N’ Harmony

- Geico Caveman commericals (enough already!)

- mood issues

- self-doubt

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I don’t really want to talk about what happened yesterday, what is all over the news. There’s nothing to add to such a tragedy that is already being overexposed and trampled by the media.

Of course when something like this happens it leads you to imagine what those families are going through. What if it had been your child, yourself? Working on the campus of a very large university, there was much discussion here about our own capabilities to deal with such a thing as well as our own past violence. Repeat ad nasuseam. Too much, too much. This morning, I swore not to think or read much about this today (not avoidance of reality I just don’t want to be dragged down by all the reposts of facebook pleas and seeing the same victims on every single news channel being forced to relive their experience).

While getting ready for work it occured to me that I haven’t had a school nightmare in awhile. They usually pop up when I’m stressed. I’ve been feeling pretty off the past couple of weeks. No dreams are a good thing. This then led my mind down the path of lockdowns and shootings I experienced while teaching. Only one murder during the three years I was there. I don’t want to tell that story today though. Instead I want to talk about our building.

My school was the oldest school in Dallas still being used. It was a lovely WPA-era building but run-down and too big for our shrinking, inner-city enrollment. There was a basement and bomb shelter that only housed rats and whole floors with barely any classrooms in use. There were many entry and exit points in the building - too much for the four full-time security officers to monitor or for the campus police officer who generally stayed put in the student action center by the main office. To keep the doors locked, chains were required. This was a fire hazard while school was in session. So although students were herded in and out of a couple of doors outfitted with metal detectors and bag searches, conceivably anyone could run in and out of any doors, and often did. We seemed particulary subject to local residents hiding from police in the rambling building. A colleauge used to joke that our army was looking for Osama Bin Laden in the wrong place. He was hiding in B**** S****.

Once, I had stayed late to take care of paperwork. It might have been around 7pm and the building was nearly empty except for me and the custodial staff. The building was quiet until I heard gunshots from the floor below. I sat still and didn’t get up to see what was happening. About 15 mintues later an officer knocked on my door and peeked in. Was I okay? Fine, thanks, what happened? Someone had robbed a push-cart ice cream vendor nearby and then ran into the building to hide. He had shot at a janitor who came out to see what was going on. Everybody’s fine? Good. Back to paperwork.

I was also going to write about my broken window and calls to the superintendent but that would lead to my shot-out window and murder. Although it’s not a terribly tragic story (well of course murder is always tragic but unfortunately some is more run-of-the-mill than others these days), I don’t feel like telling it today.

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Reviving AFJ I promised myself I would be regular with the posting. Mostly b/c I’ve got to start writing, for real. But life has a way of interferring with your plans.

Work has been slammed, I’m making logos, mocking up sites, writing complex php/mySQL systems, etc. etc. Why must work consume so much of our time? At home I’m doing one of two things: killing brain cells in front of the TV or working my fiber magic. Currently on the needlesand on the cutting table:

-Kufis. I’ve made a couple but was dissatisfied with the size and/or stitch. Frog, redo. I’ve settled on a stitch I like and am redoing for size. Hope it works as this is one of the two things I’m planning on trying market to the world at large (see below for the other) .

-Purses. For a girl who never regularly carries a purse, I love making them. I’ve done three so far and am about to do two more (pics waiting on delivery of those which are gifts). As with the above, I’m using my own pattern which I enjoy more. I’ve used a couple of different fabrics but am having a hard time finding sturdy ones I like that aren’t way too $$. (I’ve been using upholstrey fabric which can be high.) Will have to probably start buying mostly online.

Still coming:

-Socks with my lovely Belgian yarn

-table skirt for work and curtains for aunt.

-Oh yeah, the Malcolm X knitting tote I’ve been working on for myself. I’m the worst about making stuff for myself.

Recently finished:

-Vibrator cozy for friend’s bday

-Wrist bag/makeup bag for ex-pat friend who is about to elope.

Pictures of all, forthcoming.

On the hip hop front I’ve been too busy to listen to anything other than the same 20 songs on repeat over at Hip Hop Nation. Although I did recently buy the PPT album off iTunes. Good stuff. We missed Paul Wall and Lil’ Flip at Texas Relays last week. We strongly suspect they were just “appearing” however, not really performing. Also, what’s up with Flip putting 36 tracks on his new album? Is this a new strategy for heading off downloads? Making sure to give a good bargain? Well, it’s just as easy to download 36 tracks as it is 12, Flip.
conf. to Nath. I can never comment on your blog b/c of the login! I always think it’s my wordpress password but I don’t think it is. confused.

Enough rambling. Institutional logos to make.

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Anyone who’s known me for a number of years probably has a distinct impression of me: quick to anger, always putting my foot in my mouth, brash, will go off on anyone, a bitch. This is not me. At least it’s not me in my heart, not the me of my dreams. It’s the me of my nightmares.

Most of my life, from birth on, has been a nightmare. I’ve spent most of my thirty and change years not knowing how to live other than being offensive to avoid having to be defensive. I don’t want to be this way. I want to evict my demons and live a life of peace, stability and productivity. Pretty simple.

Lately, despite some big life traumas, I’ve come closer to this goal than ever. I’ve been lucky to find a partner to give me that foundation of stability to build upon. With this in place I’ve been able to safely examine myself, find the faultlines, and work on repairing them. I won’t go into all the mechanics of fixing, I’m sure you’re familiar with them. But one of the more recent, and most difficult, is just plain behavior modification.

Since I didn’t grow up in a healthy family I really lack the healthy social skills most people take for granted. At the age of 34 I’m having to consciously train myself how to relate to others - friends, co-workers, strangers - in a way that won’t hurt people, anger them or turn me into a pariah. It’s not easy. When I’m around people I don’t know well, I carefully monitor every word that comes out of mouth and try to disengage enough that my sometimes unstable emotions won’t be roused and take over yet not disengage so much that I seem unfriendly or uncooperative. For the most part my new, carefully-measured, way of dealing with the world has been successful.
Twice in the past few days though, my best hewn defenses have been put to the test and I’m not exactly sure I’ve come out well. First, at a friend’s birthday dinner this weekend, I was seated at a table with a girl I’ve known minimally over the years. Throughout dinner I was becoming increasingly glad of this minimal contact and planning to make it completely nil going forward. She was boorish, turning every conversation back to herself and then dominating the talk so for everyone at the table the night turned into “Let’s listen to her spin tales for us.” Annoying enough but then after cutting off my coversation about a silly TV show (Super Sweet Sixteen) with “I can’t watch that show. Those brats remind me too much of my job,” she launched into telling us about her job at a neighborhood middle school. Her school, just down the street from our house, does suck. She and I used to compare notes while I was a TEACHER at a similar school. She’s a secretary.

As she went on and on about the things she sees I was totally going Vietnam Vet. Hearing stories like that definitely reminds me of my awful experience (forget dumb, unrelated TV shows being triggers) and it’s very depressing, anxiety-inducing and unpleasant. Not good dinner stuff. She knows how bad I had it yet never stopped her monologue long enough to acknowledge my similar experience and, perhaps more importantly, give me the chance to say “Yeah, you know I hear you on this but reliving these types of things is really upsetting to me. Can we go back to talking about dumb reality shows?”

Yes I could have, and should have, just spoken up and said that but it was really too late. My inner easily-tapped rage had reached the point that if I had opened my mouth a violent torrent of curses and tears would have emerged ruining everyone’s dinner and my friend’s birthday. So I just got up and ran out of the restaurant. It was the best I could do and ultimately for the best though I’m still upset by that stupid, self-absorbed bitch.

Yesterday became equally strange and upsetting when my normally even-keeled and lovely boss exploded on me during a meeting. It was unreal and un-called for. Even my co-workers were stunned and waiting for him to apologize. He hasn’t. I stayed home today and he didn’t reply to my “I’m sick” email. Obviously I’m dreading returning tomorrow and my mind won’t stop obesssing over every last thing I could have done to provoke him. My rational self tells me that there’s something going on with him as it was so uncharacteristic and truly baseless. But this doesn’t really ease my mind. At my core, I’m so used to receiving abuse and then making up reasons to blame myself that this new grown up self can’t stop it.

At least in both situations I kept my mouth shut. Now I just have to keep from vomiting up everything I was able to stop myself from saying.

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