As far back as I can remember I have always wanted to be something or someone  different. I couldn’t and sometimes still can’t stand the sight of my own reflection in the mirror. I have large eyes, an odd face, I’m missing a tooth, my hair is strange. These are the things that run through my head at any given moment depending on how I’m feeling, what I have going on.

When I was a kid I lived inside the fantasy world between my ears. Dreaming up stories, dance routines, or any other dream sequences I could come up with. I didn’t understand this to be creativity. I simply bought into the idea that I was a raging lunatic and as I got older I would shudder with embarrassment when my mind would drift toward these bombastic scenarios. I’d smother them as soon as they’re arise and thank god no one could visit the inside of my head because it was a scary scary place.

Eventually, the creative side won and I became a writer/theatre artist.  This brought me no greater peace really. The self doubt that years of attacking my creativity as if it were a disease had done a number on my ability to believe that my ideas were valid much less good. It took my life falling completely apart and ultimately me having to work on my self or die for me to even begin to see anything of true value in the work I do. I’m grateful for my new perspective, but as of now it is fleeting. My creative process is often me doing battle with the demons inside my head to get anything on the page.

My ability to believe in the work I do begins and ends with me, because no matter how many accolades, right ons, or I feel you’s I get. They are not enough to sustain me at my foundation. My mistake has been believing in some tiny part inside that “fans” and their well wishes and love would give me the validation I need to believe in me even though the lives of celebrities prove other wise.

I’ve had to consciously realize (again) that my creativity will not save me. It is an extension of me. The things that happen as a part of the work I do have NOTHING to do with who I am as a person. How I struggle to remember this when things don’t go the way they were planned with a show, or when I get a rejection about a submission, or when I don’t hear back about that one thing I wanted to do. I am a tiny and insecure thing at time with an ego as fragile as sugared glass.

This is the fight I fight everyday. Today I have to honestly say I’m losing, tomorrow may bring better news. Some days I get really tired. Today is one of those days. Tomorrow I’ll be back with claws, and the teeth I have left bared. All I ever wanted to be is something great, even though that greatness implies a destination that will never come. The greatness is in the fight. God please me remember that.

Before you prepare your inspiring response to this, I’ll let you know that I don’t need it.  I’m not in some funk that I need to be lifted out of. These are just feelings and they will pass. I feel no need to wallow in them. I’m writing this in the hopes that someone reading this will know that they’re not alone. We can survive and grow past the way we feel. Knowing this is something truly great.

Most mommas sternly warn their children about the one good time in jail and then they’re on own. I’ve officially had mine and someone else’s. I was arrested the other night. (Looks weird written), for “Driving While License Revoked”. I’m still trying to process the whole situation, and definitely knew instantly I would write about it. The situation begged to be written about. First, I thought for sure I would rain my written retribution down on the heads of the CMPD powers that be and finally expose that den of iniquity disguised as a police department for what it really was. After sitting and stewing in that for a bit I realized that no matter how jacked up the arrest was (and it was a lu lu), I had ultimately placed myself in this situation by not following through with/paying for a traffic ticket.

Besides I’m not a fan of making overall minor personal problems into international declarations of outrage against “the man.” Nine point nine eight times out of ten, “the man” is ourselves. On the flip side, I do think the matter could have been handled waaaay differently by the arresting officier (B. Harrison #4364 Troop N District A1)…

The Story:

Our Boy Friday (or Officer Harrison if you choose) was excessively stern and borderline abusive. He did not state a reason for stopping me (i.e. I swerved, or I had a headlight out, etc.), followed me for approximately for a half mile which in itself was frightening being a woman alone driving at night and given the history of police officers and sexual assault in this city. When stopped I was asked where I had been (which since I was neither drunk nor high, was NONE of his business). As he proceeded he didn’t give me a chance to be cooperative. He shined his flashlight directly into my eyes several times then asked “what I had” in my car and looked around inside of it. The last time I checked I thought that was called an illegal search. The best was yet to come I would find.

Our Boy got down and dirty after a quick trip back to his vehicle. He told me to get out of my car, turned me around and cuffed me simply saying “your license is revoked”. Never once did he recite Miranda rights. He hyper flexed my arms behind my back, cuffed me and escorted me to his squad car while pushing me, pulling the back of my bra, and threatening me with a resisting arrest charge to boot! All this was highly unnecessary considering I never swore at him or even raised my voice.

As much as an asshole I think he is…and he is a GRAND asshole…I can relate to him. When you’re placed in a position where you work with people during their darkest hour you can’t help but to become a little desensitized. If you do it long enough that desensitization festers, and permanently (or semi-permanently) distorts your view. So if you were a generally happy person overtime you can become dry and cynical. If you were already an ass you become Officer Harrison.

I’ve faced this type of dilemma in health care for years. What happens to a person when COPD, cancer, AIDS, accidents, amputations, mutilations, addiction, and death because of the work you do become the “routine”? We unconsciously numb ourselves over the years. Many chemically, the shot of whiskey or the pill taken after work (it was my coping mechanism for a good while.) Some in healthy ways, seeking refuge in our families and trying to not to take work home. Still many more cope with behaviors and attitudes i.e. cynicism, sarcasm and prejudice.

Sidebar: Prejudice and Human Services Work

Prejudice you ask? Well let’s just say when your only contact with another culture comes when they are in need of medical services or when you’re arresting them, there is a tendency to believe that that particular group is only the way you see them when they present to you. Example: There was a running “joke” when I used to work at one of the larger hospitals in the city. Any time you got on the elevator with a Latino person (who by the way were always called Mexican regardless of country of origin), they HAD to be going to either one of two floors: Five, where the trauma unit was located, or Eight, where labor and delivery were located. Was there any credence to this? I’ll say about 85% of the time it was spot on, after all there is at least a semblance of truth to most stereotypes.

This is still no reason to make a sweeping judgment about an entire race of people, and without a doubt NO reason to mistreat that race of people as may happen in cases of police brutality and patient abuse. Yes, patient abuse, under reported but happening on a daily basis. I’ve seen patients treated differently because of their culture, economic background, or what a caregiver views as a patients moral inadequacies.

Sadly, I’m not sure if there’s a way to ensure these things won’t happen. Healthcare seems to just be waking up from it’s coma in this area. I’ve worked at countless facilities and it was not until I had been a therapist for 10 years that I was offered any type of diversity training. Human service work is where I feel the real danger of prejudice lies. Do I want someone who thinks I’m an immoral being for having a child out of wedlock giving me pain medication while I’m in labor? There’s nothing to say she wouldn’t administer as ordered, but there’s nothing to say she would either. It is here that I digress…

Back to Officer Harrison, me, and my almost 12 year career in health care. He and I both have taken on careers that could definitely be listed among the worlds “dirtiest” jobs, if only in the figurative sense. My hope for him (yes, I do have a little) is that he doesn’t allow what he calls procedure, protocol, and his “authority”, to let him to forget on some enchanted evening that the person he’s arresting is a human being first. As for me, you’re looking at my coping mechanism, however I honestly don’t know how much longer I can deal with health care as the corporate entity it’s become. I plan on getting out while I still have a little humanity left. ;).

Yep, I finally know what the caged bird sings…because ain’t shit else to do while you’re locked up!

Rosie.

Ah racism, homophobia, and other ailments of rational thought. The hot button topics which stir the constitutions of the many to the point of frenzy, disgust, and eventually exasperation as most convos about the topics end with the dog chasing it’s tail and everyone throwing up there hands. Do they exist only because we look for them, a sort of self fulfilling prophecy? Or are they real and palpable beasts that threaten our very existence?

My short answer: I dunno? Well, that’s not entirely true. While I don’t believe these things will be our undoing (the environment takes a front seat in that area), there simply is no denying that these things do exist. Just looking at daily headlines prove it. Young people committing suicide in our “highly advanced post millennium” society because they don’t want to be outed as gay?! President Obama being called a liar on the floor of the senate?! (An act our dear old white southern male former president Jimmy Carter even called an act of racism). Speaking of our president, and getting to the reason I’m writing this in the first place, I was recently texting with a co-worker of mine (white male) when the conversation took a bit of a left (or right if you will).

“Him: if I hate obama wud u still love me???lol. Love u stilll : )

Me: If you “hate” him for reasons that you can explain rationally and in complete sentences. And what does your loving me have to do with you “hating” Obama anyways ;)?

Him: I love ya. U know it, but more borrowed since 1776. Enuf to give every citizen 120k a piece. Obama is muslim, gay, and smoke cracked.never proven is a u.
s. citizen. Wife. Complete racist. Read her college thesis paper.I did. Hmm.
Please prove me wrong….

Me: Ok. I’ll go with you with your issues about spending. Everything else is pretty meaningless and typical small minded and quite frankly anti-islamic, homophobic rhetoric with no foundation to anything having to do with reason. You’re talking racists thesis papers…the founding fathers owned slaves. Thomas Jefferson particularly was one of the greatest thinkers of his generation, but lived torn with himself because he happened to fall in love with a woman that happened to be of a people he viewed as subhuman.

Him: Lol.I know thomas jeffersons story well, don’t know wat that had 2 wit wat I said.lol.u wnt me to be ur thomas jeffes.put one of those old man wigs on.lol. u can grab that shit like u own it. I use to read a lot shit bout obama before oprah made him president. I was thinkn when he was running how cud obama ever run before he was elected. Obama was a freaking translator 4 iran getting weapons. Cia used obama because he was a muslim who wud coperate with u.s. obama translated secrets while he got weapons for iran. U shud read about it. U will be like wtf. He was never born a american citizen. His dad was from kenya that’s about it. Obama wasn’t. I think obama claims hawaii as birth. Lol. Really? Also obama had a crack problem for yrs. Really? Do u ever hear about that? Do u ever hear larry sinclair 100% passed a gay dare dectector about obama… which I don’t care. Each to their own and people fuck up but any other president wud be reemed a new buttox if any propaganda.sp.also obama havn kanye on airforce one after elect. That’s like having head of kkk on bush plane to me. Don’t u think? I personally think bush and obama are linked somehow also. I think bush laden family was oil deal gone bad. I hated politics since clinton screwed us with subprime loans. I was a part of and feel aweful about. Basically clinton boosted the economy giving people loans they couldn’t afford. I know. I was loan consultant at the time. I gave loans to people that didn’t have a damn job. Well that’s what’s screwed our country. I read his book too. clinton even knew the towers we going to be attacked. Clinton didn’t want his nose dirty so he passed the buck so to speak. Kinda funny to me people worship clinton like he was our savor. He helped created subprime loans which destroyed fannie mae freddy mac our banks. All n all destroyed our economy. I don’t blame bush or obama for our economy. Plus internet destroyed us.not all clintons fault but I blame alot on him.whatcha think?”

As of right now, I still haven’t responded to this message. I quite frankly don’t know what to say. It’s clear I’m not going to change his mind, he sure as hell is not going to sway me to his way of thinking. So what is there really left to say? Do I write him off as a person because of what he believes? He has a right to believe what he wants right?! Do I want to continue a friendship with someone who thinks/believes this way?! This has me a little at odds with myself, because as off the wall as I found his comments at least he SAID them to me directly (albeit via text message).

The million dollar question, and this is meant more to spark honest conversation than a witch hunt, how many of my white friends hold similar views? Some damn body voted for Bristol Palin on Dancing with the Stars! Is there a body of otherwise “normal” people who hold beliefs that whether they realize it or not are bigoted? The whole situation trips me out because I’ve always believed that I could at least sense when someone has racist/bigoted beliefs. However, I’ve worked with this person, hung out with this person outside of work, and never had a CLUE he thought this way. While the NAACP is out chasing phantom racist boogey men with empty threats and missed school days, I’m saving lives with the bigot that sat by the door.

To be sure a person’s opinion is their own. Having a body of varying viewpoints is the spice of life and balances us as a society. However, it is troubling to think that these covert ops, these closet ultra conservatives, are dispersed throughout our society making decisions that affect peoples lives. Am I calling for a boycott of all your white friends? Hell no! Some of my best friends are white ;). However, I do feel that you should have an open honest dialogue about race, and be prepared to hear something that might not make you feel comfortable, but are very liberating for all involved.

Rosie.

P.S. I know where you guys could get started: KMBA: Kiss My Black Angst

Dear Charlotte Mecklenburg NAACP ,

I was annoyed at but tolerated your tiny little King Day publicity stunt. It was a mild annoyance and once again trivialized race relations to a mere witch hunt for whitey’s hatred of the black man. Considering your organization’s “too little too late” track record (see Charlotte school closings), I was not surprised. You had to find SOMETHING to do with yourselves after dropping that ball.

What IS completely “mind bobbling” (as Ricky Bobby would say), is the fact that you would proverbially cut off your nose to spite your face by encouraging two MAJOR events not occur in this city because of it’s “racism”. Really?! Two events that would among other great benefits, happen to create jobs for…you guessed it that “black community” that you hold so dearly to your bosom. Really?!

There are bigger fish to fry…there are ALWAYS bigger fish to fry than the ones you people seem to dream up (see the SC confederate flag debacle that brought the confederate flag from the roof…to the lawn). Your behaviors make blacks in the south seem like little more than whining children out to get some type of non-existent acknowledgment from a parent that will never fully understand them nor love them. STOP PLEASE. Your efforts are futile and EMBARRASSING. I realize that your organization is trying to figure your purpose in post civil rights movement America, but I challenge you to realize it in away that empowers us as a NATION not just a singular race that is perpetually “victimized” (as Dr. King did).

Okay…if you’re still with me thanks for reading! Just to show there are no hard feelings, I’d like to offer your organization 5 free tickets to K.M.B.A. Front row even!

Yours in Angst:

Stacey Rose

Theatre Artist, Activist, and all around good colored person.

I’m writing this blog because I was raised by a very superstitious woman. My Nana was the type of woman that would not allow me to wear an article of clothing that I’d put on backward out of the house. We’d have to count to ten before leaving the house if we had to return to get something we’d forgotten. Salt over the shoulder. No brooms over the feet while sweeping. You get it. While I’m not sure if any of the perils and pitfalls of my life are actually due to me stepping on a cracks or breaking mirrors there is one lil superstition of my dear old Nan’s that I’ve always held in regard. She would always say (and I’m 100% sure it wasn’t just her) that what ever you do when you were bringing in the new year would be what you’d be doing all year.

How true is this? Well I dunno, but I’ve spent a many new years eve drunk off my ass with new years day being reserved for nursing my hang over. As those of you who follow me and some who know me personally can attest, I’ve spent some years pretty damn drunk, and largely unhappy. So this year, even if it is just superstition, I plan on bringing in the new year doing what I’d like to be doing all year. Writing and working. Both of which have grown me so much in the last year. I want to keep it going. I want to publish my book this year. This is less resolution and more what I “resolve” to do because it’s time.

Speaking of time…10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Rosie.

Maybe I’m being unrealistic. Maybe I’m expecting that because I set it out and let it out for all of Charlotte to read that everybody else would fling open the door on their inner sanctum of craziness and free themselves. I saw visions of people running through the streets confessing all their strange erroneous habits and secrets to their neighbors who would in turn nod in understanding and confess theirs. What a convoluted dream world I was living in! No matter how much I’d love for them too, no matter how much of “mine” I show in hopes that they will show “theirs”, people will STILL insist that they are perfectly normal and that everyone else is fucked up.

The covertly insane come in many varieties. I’m sure you the reader can think of five just upon reading this, but I’ll just name two types here for examples sake.

The Shit Chef

I stand completely befuddled and amazed at people whom I watch prey on the happiness of others like insatiable vultures. Back stabbing, undermining, incitement of bickering, and persistent stirring of the pot are their utensils. They plant seeds of destruction, walk away, and wait salivating for the harvest. Fine young cannibals they are; All the while coming to you with a smile grasping the knife in their back pocket.

They come disguised as friends bearing “friendly” heads up about situations that you as their “friend” should definitely be kept on top of: i.e. “Let me tell you how fucked up he is…”, “I can’t believe she said that to you?” “Did you see how high he was.” Do you see how fucking insane YOU are creating misery to gratify your own issues with your self esteem?!

Let me digress for a moment. I would be a hypocrite if I did not acknowledge that the old adage “it takes one to know one” applies here. My self esteem has been this low, and while I may not have gone to the lengths that I see some going to destroy relationships I’ve said my share of evil, unwarranted shit to allow me to feel good about myself in the moment. So I can relate to where the root behavior comes from, but the keyword today is: ACCOUNTABILITY. We are accountable for the stuff we put out there. There is always a tab to pay for destructive behaviors, and I’m not talking some weird mystical karmic “what-you-done-to-me-done-already-been-done-to-you!” shit; I’m saying you just can’t go around spreading misery and expect to be happy. How do I know? Nothing I said about others or did to undermine situations/relationships got me what I wanted and actually left me even more miserable with even lower self esteem.

I also don’t pretend to be completely rid of the behavior, but what I do posses is the ability to OWN it and change the course of my actions immediately upon noticing I’m on some ill shit. Try it. You might like it.

The Double Sided Coin:

Two words: Eddie Long. You talk about one thing, and completely live another. Here’s a situation from my life I’ll donate (no worries if it’s about you, no names.) He is dude that is celebrating his pride in his “wifey boo” and new family. Facebook loved up. Then how come you’re hitting me up trying to get a side order of ass, then berating me because I live with my mom. Really? The wrongs about this one situation are over flowing. I’ll just leave it at this, I’d rather have my self respect and be able to maintain myself fiscally live with my Momma than to move into an apartment alone praying for the day that you and wife boo fall out so I can have a quick turn to be little me physically. There it is.

I can’t say I have direct experience in this as hypocrisy has never been my strong suit (my co-dependent guilt won’t allow it) I will say that my life has been greatly affected by people who were two sided coins. It’s confusing, misleading, hurtul and totally unfair to those in your immediate life. Pick a side and try to stay on it. Notice I said TRY. I know we don’t always get it right, but damn, at least try to be an 80/20 instead of a 60/40, everyone in your life will thank you.

Owning our shit helps to free us up of guilt, fear, and anger while simultaneously making the world a better place. Ownership with out action however is pointless. See: the guy who “told that girl I had my baby momma at home.” while still carrying out beauxed up activities with her. Yes action is a complete MUST, it doesn’t change over night though. It took me over 1.5 years to stop bad mouthing my guy friend’s gf cause I wanted him for myself. While you’re waitin? Well do other shit, I dunno like eating, breathing, sleeping, eating. This is life and it’s too short to be trapped in a never ending loop of insanity.

Rosie.

So I’m doing a random round of facebook stalking. Let me take that back. Stalking would imply combing through peoples profiles with ill intentions or some other type of malice. Nope. I was just peeking in on folks, a lot of whom I’ve dreamed big with. Some of us come hell or water high are out here attempting to kick up some form of something despite any circumstances. For many though, the dreams have changed. “Life” has happened. Marriages and babies in some instances; unfortunate illnesses or injuries in others. Very simple to very complex things that have caused dreams to be indefinitely deferred or to die altogether. In some cases it is a pleasant death as an alternate path to a happiness “equivalent” has come along. In others it is a long arduous road. A wait for the inevitable.

I’m getting older. Duh. I’ve not run across that alternate happiness. Sometimes I find myself wishing that “life” maybe a “stable” marriage or relationship would happen. Just a lil taste a normal might not be bad. It’s not happened that way for me though. The signs aren’t pointing in those directions. *sigh* So, I still hold pretty fast to my dreams and aspirations; Thankfully I’ve not been maimed or otherwise injured. Is this my purgatory? Maybe. It’s not such a sucky place to be. I know I’m not alone here. In fact we’re a pretty swingin’ crowd. And I have hope, lots of it that I will someday be something or for acceptance of the possibility that I will do nothing for the rest of my life but tinker around and pick up a cat here or there. The boy will go off to school, or marriage, or in hot pursuit of whatever he thinks he should be. Then what. Then what?