The Star Spangled Banner

By Francis Scott Key

Oh, say can you see by the dawn’s early light
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars thru the perilous fight,
O’er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?
And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep,
Where the foe’s haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o’er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning’s first beam,
In full glory reflected now shines in the stream:
‘Tis the star-spangled banner! Oh long may it wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle’s confusion,
A home and a country should leave us no more!
Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps’ pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave:
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved home and the war’s desolation!
Blest with victory and peace, may the heav’n rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation.
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: “In God is our trust.”
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

Desperate Housewives is my favorite new show of the season, but I have just one question folks. Where are the black people on this show? We don’t live on the block, around the corner, hell we don’t even clean the streets, pick up the trash, work in the bar or the stores. Forget the episode that I missed guest starring Oprah (they already showed that right?)… she doesn’t count. Well, she counts as a black person but not for this count because she is OPRAH. Oprah gets whatever she wants and if she wants to guest star in a town where there are no coloreds, she can do that. So we remain at a zero count of coloreds in the town of Dramaville.

I was completely caught off guard to hear JT say this morning that he wanted to see “Diary of a Mad Black Woman.” This is after several weeks ago, (I am eighty three percent certain that) he said he didn’t want to see this because it was a chick flick. I COULD be getting this mixed up with another movie that he called a chick flick. Who knows because it seems like he is always declaring any movie that revolves around a relationship, a chick flick. The last thing I have to say relating to “Diary of a Mad Black Woman” is that I am so thankful that Shemar Moore finally cut off those cornrows. Cornrows is not for everyone people. I understand it was for his role in the movie, blah blah… but why oh why did he keep them up after the production was over? I kept seeing previews of Young and the Restless with him and those damn cornrows. Cornrows is not for Shemar, it doesn’t fit him. He looked like a wannabe thug tryin to be down. I’ll try not to think about this when we go see this movie on Sunday.

Alpha posted this at the forums. I decided to share here:

If you ever feel stupid, then just read on. If you’ve learned to speak fluent English, you must be a genius! This little treatise on the lovely language we share is only for the brave. Pursue at your leisure, English lovers. Reasons why the English language is so hard to learn:

1) The bandage was wound around the wound.

2) The farm was used to produce produce.

3) The dump was so full that it had to refuse more refuse.

4) We must polish the Polish furniture.

5) He could lead if he would get the lead out.

6) The soldier decided to desert his dessert in the desert..

7) Since there is no time like the present, he thought it was time to present the present.

8) A bass was painted on the head of the bass drum.

9) When shot at, the dove dove into the bushes.

10) I did not object to the object.

11) The insurance was invalid for the invalid.

12) There was a row among the oarsmen about how to row.

13) They were too close to the door to close it.

14) The buck does funny things when the does are present.

15) A seamstress and a sewer fell down into a sewer line.

16) To help with planting, the farmer taught his sow to sow.

17) The wind was too strong to wind the sail

18) After a number of injections my jaw got number.

19) Upon seeing the tear in the painting I shed a tear.

20) I had to subject the subject to a series of tests.

21) How can I intimate this to my most intimate friend?

Yesterday, while scavenging through the archives, I found some more 2002 journal entries; January, April and May 2002 to be exact oh and also the rest of the December 2003 entries. Now the only thing that I am missing are my January 2003 entries. I can’t fully explain how finding those entries was like finding a missing piece to a million piece jigsaw puzzle, the piece that made everything complete… like wow I can actually see the tiger in the field now.

I really need to continue to write more often, even if I don’t share all of my thoughts with you all. Some things shouldn’t be said online. I could make those entries private. And no I don’t mean private where my so-called buddies can access them with a login/password. I mean private where only I can see them. Writing is therapeutic for me and has helped me throughout my healing process. And maybe later down the road I can unleash those thoughts. After mornings like today, I am more compelled to do such. But not just yet…

We know that I’ve been dealing with postpartum depression for five months now. Long time right? One may even argue that the hormonal changes that I went through last year during my pregnancy even contributed to my postpartum depression. Hell, I was probably depressed before the birth of my twins. What is that, prepartum depression? *holds in laugh… Seriously, last year was the most difficult year of my life. 2004 brought out the best and the worst of me.

As you can see I am no where near finished with loading all of my old 2002 and 2003 entries. In fact I’ve only done June, July, August and I’m currently on September 2002. Who would have thought that a bunch of copying and pasting would take so long. Well it really doesn’t, but it is tedious work. When I pasted all of the entries into Word, the document totaled at almost 570 pages. The file was original a text file and it loaded way too slow for my patience level.

Keisha hasn’t been all too well this week. She is still her cheerful self and the appetite is strong, but she has had loose bowel movements. Now it has got to the point that her little bottom is sore from all that overtime. She cried and cried and cried and cried while I cleaned her with a wet wipe this morning. I felt so bad. I absolutely hate it when I can’t instantly make my children feel better. All I could do was finish cleaning her up and I asked JT to bring in the Desitin from the nursery. I lubed her up real good. When JT took the twins to daycare this morning, Ms. B said that she would continue the Desitin on Keisha throughout the day. Ms. B is a great teacher and even though she caters to William (can’t resist those plump sugar cheeks), I’m glad that the twins have her took look after them at the daycare. That’s more than I can say for some other people there.

…Anyway, I digress. After arriving at the office, we had a long wait AS I EXPECTED and as it ALWAYS happens. I capitalized that for a reason, don’t worry about why. Before JT arrived with Keisha, this woman to my right watched me as I took William’s coat off.

She then said, “aww SHE is pretty.”

I paused for a moment and then slightly shook my head in disbelief. I know this woman did not just call my son a SHE.

I replied, “thank you.”

Then the woman says, “how old is SHE?”

I can feel the blood rushing to my head. This is one thing you just don’t do to a mom. Mistaking the sex of a mother’s child is equitable to a sin… of some sort.

I replied, “HE is almost five months old. HE will be five months old on the 14th.”

Now all of this time, I am not looking at the woman. I gave my full attention to William as I took his coat off. But I could fill the embarrassment from the woman to my right.

“Aww… I’m sorry she said.”

I can’t remember if I responded “that’s okay,” or I was evil and said nothing at all. Then I said, “HIS sister is on her way with HIS father. They are twins, a BOY and a girl.” Anywhere I could stress that William is a BOY, I did so. Then JT and Keisha arrived and I quickly calmed down.

JT and I sat in the waiting room and played with the twins while we waited and waited and waited some more. I would normally think that the office is punishing us for being late, but this ONE TIME, JT and I were actually on time and we waited nearly and hour and some change. Boy was that a frustrating afternoon. When the nurses called William’s name I was only briefly relieved because I knew another waiting period was to follow after the nurse does the height and weight check.

How was your Valentine’s Day? JT and I celebrate ours on Sunday evening while Mama and Dot watched the twins all day.

Yesterday, JT had to pick Keisha up from daycare early because her teacher suspected that she had a little stomach virus. I really did not agree but I did appreciate the concern. The only bad thing about when the children don’t go to daycare is that you still have to pay for the day. No prorate, no refund. You pay weekly at the beginning of the week and that is that. Keisha ended up sleeping a large portion of the day then later on she was fine for her afternoon and night bottle. If anything, she was exhausted from staying up until 11:30pm the previous night!!

I don’t have a good explanation for why I called this entry Dr. Who… I couldn’t think of anything else, and Dr. Who popped in my mind.

I originally wrote this entry last week and I kept adding and adding without even posting it. I will split the story into two parts. Here is part one and part two will be posted tomorrow:

Tuesday night, my motherly instincts were working overtime. This was the second night in a row that William was acting very lethargic, but this time around he didn’t have an appetite for his last bottle of the night and he was breathing erratically with a fast pulse. Yeah, I know I’m not a doctor but when those motherly instincts kick in you better respond. While talking to my mom, I mentally debated back and forth whether or not I wanted to call the medical exchange number. Mom said, maybe he is just having a dream? She asked how did I feel about the situation and I responded, while I’m not scared… but I am concerned. At the end of the call, I decided to call the medical exchange.

According to Angry Black Woman.com this is the kind of woman I am:

You are a Curse-You-Out-in-a-Heartbeat Angry Black Woman… Let’s get ready to rumble! This ABW is no joke. Sistah girl is like a world-class boxer who will pummel those who would dare spar with her. Always on high alert of any little slight, real or imagined, this ABW has been known to knock out opponents with a blistering combination of body blows (comments about victims’ physical appearance) and the crowd favorite, the below-the-belt blow (remarks about home life or sexual prowess). Most opponents don’t last the second round and are often left in tears, catatonic states of shock, mouths agape in front of sell-out crowds.

FAMOUS ABWs: Aunt Esther from SANFORD AND SON, Mary J. Blige, Mo’Nique

LOL I don’t think that is very accurate, but I do have a mean side to me and I can be very blunt with my choice of words.

Martin Luther King Jr.

Washington, DC, on August 28, 1963

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we have come to our nation’s capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Happy Birthday to the love of my life, the father of my children, my soulmate for eternity. I love you dearly JT.

I still need to get all of my birthday licks in. You ain’t slick.