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Jael2413
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Name: Marguerite
Birthday: 4/13/1987
Gender: Female
Interests: My Lord, Books, Music, Knitting, Jars of Clay, Make believe, Traveling, Arabic, Russian, Singing, and Tea.
Expertise: Distorted Chocolate Cupcakes. Surprising people. Reminding kids they are kids.
Industry: Nonprofit
Message: message meEmail: email me
AIM:  Jael2413
Yahoo:  Hillcity2413
Member Since:
8/19/2005
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| Sometimes, it feels like it's raining eligible young (or not so young) men. They're good-looking and say they're Christians. Some even act like Christians. Egads.
They could be perfect. The thing is, it seems like I'm not.
Slowly, I can feel myself letting my standards slip. It might not be a bad thing, I tell myself, and maybe I'm right. Because so far, no one has made it. Alright, there were guys who I would have dated. Married possibly. Some of them are still there. But I'm not right.
This coming week, my girlfriends and I are making boxes. In them, we're putting things we want to save for our future husbands. My box can be full. There are lots of things I've never done with a man. Held hands. Kissed. Danced.
And there used to be more. But time has passed. Friendships have become deeper, my time with young men has increased. It's not highschool anymore, where most of my friends were online, and the 'real life' ones weren't seen a lot in person.
I've slept in a man's bed. I've gone to dinner and a movie with a man. Ridden in a car alone with a man. Cooked for a man. Camped with men. Mind you, it was all platonic. Completely without scandal. But still.
Here's the thing. When you have a boyfriend, you might think about these things. But when I'm just friends with El Tigre, I don't think about how much time we spend together, or what our shoving matches might look like to the untrained eye. When I'm with John, and he says something, I don't think about it as something I wouldn't want to tell my significant other, although if I had one, he wouldn't say those things. I mentioned this to Dan, my bestest guy friend. I asked him how he would feel if his girlfriend talked to another guy the way that he and I talk. Not that we say anything we shouldn't, but we're really close. Best friend close. The only other person outside my family who might know as much about me as he does is maybe Mary.
I think about muslim girls, who don't show their hair (or arms or anything but hands and face) to anyone but their husbands. Strict independent Baptist girls who don't have guy friends. And I think, "wow. what a gift to give your husband."
I don't know. I'm praying that someday there will be a guy who wants me.
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| Dear other people.So, I was going to write a dear john letter calling him out for lying to me and telling him he needs to start using his words and not his hands because there are a bunch of confused young ladies over here. A gentleman .... But you get my jist and I just read this other blog about the N word.
Some people think that it's ok for some people to use the word, and not ok for other people. Particularly people of my skin tone shouldn't be using it. I don't use it. I don't allow any of my kids to use it, no matter where they're from or who their parents are. To say that it's a cultural thing is ... Well, look at it this way. In my town, there's a ghetto. Everyone knows about it, it's no big deal. The thing about it is, there are some white skinned people living there. Those kids were raised side by side kids with black skin, their parents grew up together. They have black cousins and brothers and half sisters. But for some reason, the white skinned kids don't use that term. I don't know if it's because the word creates a divide, or out of respect, or if it's because if they used it in the wrong company they'd get shot. It doesn't really matter. But the use of the word does create a racial divide. If I say my boy El Tigre is black, I"m acknowledging the color of his skin. If I use that term, I'm setting him away from me.
And if you've ever seen me and my boy El Tigre, we're kind of joined at the shoulder. (We take "Lean on Me" seriously)
In my workplace, as I've said before, I'm a minority. It's taken a long time for some of those kids to get used to me. I have to explain why I don't put grease in my hair, or relax it. Or how I don't get ashy very often. I have to explain why I get sunburned if I don't put on sunscreen and how I have freckles, and what freckles are to begin with (Ms. Marguerite, you have polka dots!). But for the most part, they're cool with me now. I'm not your typical upper-middle class white girl, and we're a lot more alike than you might think.
But one time, I described my sister's hair as 'nappy' in a salon, to a stylist with dark skin, and she laughed at me. Faith had tangles like you wouldn't believe. That's how I describe it (Although I know 'nappy' is also used to describe 'ethnic' hair in general) but because Faith and I are white, we're laughed at. It doesn't bother me, really, I understand it's not the norm.
But you all know me and I'm for equality.
I don't brood over the dark spots in my heritage. I'm Irish. The family that I know about came over to America during the Potato Famine. In their homeland, they were sharecroppers, serfs, and when the famine hit, they couldn't pay and were kicked out of their homes. This particular branch settled in North Carolina. They worked hard and never had slaves. Most of them fought for the South (they'd been oppressed by persons in government before, and they weren't going to let that happen again), but some fought for the North, and there's even one guy who fought for both.
Some Irishmen weren't so lucky and went to New York and other metropolises. They were the low guys on the totem pole. A bit like the way Latinos are often viewed today, taking jobs from hardworking Americans and the like.
As for the voting thing, I'm a woman. My great grandmother never voted. It was illegal. And when it was legal, it was ridiculed and women who did or attempted to vote were persecuted.
But today, I don't typically dwell on that. I am NOT saying anything done against Blacks was right, or trying to sweep it under the rug. For as long as I can remember though, I was taught to treat all people equally, to focus on what's the same, not what's different.
For example, both El Tigre and I are mostly Irish. He has some Dominican in there too. In fact, heritage wise, I think I'm closer to him than to Danya. *high-five*
(This morning I had to explain what and albino is to my sister, because we know someone who's white, but whose parents are black. I mean, that's a whole 'nother level altogether.)
Shutting up now.
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| Dear Xanga. It's been a while. OK, perhaps not really. But I haven't been on my computer for two days, and that's forever for me.
Let's see. English Midterm. Stupid teacher! grrr.
Lots of pool time. With el tigre. Heck yes. I love him to death, and one day he might kill me in some mock football shoving match.
I've been re-evaluating my work strategy after a stressful couple of days. I got stuck with the middle schoolers for a whole day and they sometimes make me crazy. I was having a hard time knowing when to put my foot down and when to give a little. Plus, they decided to behave like preschoolers.
Eh. I spent the last two days with them at the pool and on the field trip, and I think it's working better.
Mostly, I just thought about the people who were working there when I started, Ex-military or parents or both. They cared about the kids, but they also had a lot of self respect, and realized they're the adults. Most of the time I forget my age.
The other day I saw this guy walking down the street. His whole demeanor demanded attention and respect. A leader, someone to listen to. Mind you, I'm not trying to look like him or exude arrogance, but I am practicing the posture he had, that said there's a reason you should listen to me.
Maybe if I fake the confidence long enough, it will become real.
Come to think of it, most of the time I don't lack confidence... But I did for so long that my outside doesn't match my inside.
Anyway. Today I went with them Roller Skating at the rink where my parent used to skate all the time, back in the day. My dad could do the limbo. I can't and I refused to join the race, even though my kids begged. But I am ok on skates, I didn't fall down once. I can't skate backwards though. Skating is so graceful.
There was one young man who thoroughly enjoyed himself. He spent almost the whole time on the rink. He made people laugh, and laughed himself. He also fell down at least once a lap. Didn't care, got back up and kept skating, and had a grand old time. (Until he fell and hit his back and head, but even then he was a good sport.)
Meanwhile, there were two girls that refused to even put on skates because they didn't know how to skate. Believe me, I bugged them to for half the time we were there. But they refused and instead just sat the whole trip away.
You have to admire the first kid.
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| Tonight we went to the mall.
It was awful. A new level of my fault awfulness.
See, typically, the awful part is the shopping and teenagers.
Tonight, it was me. See, I'd gotten tired of H&M and gone outside to read the Washington Post. I was sitting on the bench for about a half an hour.
I was absorbed in some article I don't remember.
Then this girl behind me was suddenly shaking and crying and asking her mom to call nine one one. By girl I mean 17. So the girl thinks she's going into shock, and she's got a rash on her neck.
To me, it looks like a sever allergic reaction.
Here's the thing that makes it awful. I'm first aid certified, at a loss, but I probably know more than the folks there. (Cover her up, maintain body temperature, don't let her drink that raspberry ice tea...) And I didn't do anything.
Ta Da. Daylight is long gone.
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| ElaborationStupid Papers.
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