Articles – Page 84 – The PBS Blog

Everyday People

I see you breathing and believing and filled with emotion and background and circumstances. I see you angry and frustrated and happy. I see you succeed and fail, fall and stand up. I see you in need of inspiration and encouragement and it encourages me to provide that serenity as best I can on this blog, as an individual. I also appreciate the encouragement many of you give on your blogs. For the most part I’m that person nodding my head in agreement (or shaking my head) and walking away. If I like your post its not because I’m a robot programmed to do so. It means I really liked your post! Some of you are awkward though. I see you coming into class with tilted glasses and pocket protectors. Some of you are loud and outspoken, others are quiet and reserved. Some of you are wild and passionate about that wildness. That’s your business. Some of you are super smart and can’t really hold a decent conversation without going over someone’s head. Some of you take off people’s heads. Some of you are a lot simpler. You walk into the door ready to listen and engage. Some of you come in popping bubble gum and rolling your eyes. You don’t really wanna hear what this woman is talking about again but you can’t stop showing up either.

I didn’t intend on writing much today. But I came across a very interesting post by my girl Linda G. Hill: Your WordPress Audience. In this post, Linda posed an exciting question: How do you see your WordPress followers? Are they friends? Are they followers? Are they individuals? What if you could get your followers into one room and stand before them and write your post for them? That post inspired this one. For Linda’s post, Click Here.

I think it’s about personifying your post, about making sure that you insert your personality into your writing; finding that balance between personal and too personal. Never sacrificing your stand but just being real with people. I think this is important so that we can better connect with others. Linda’s post made me think about that, and why I see my subscribers as everyday people like me. This is why I wanted to express my thoughts about the post on this blog in front of all of you. I think it’s a very good topic of discussion and it’s a great way to look at your blog. I know a lot of us would see things differently if we were in front of each other than behind a keyboard. Makes you ponder the question: Who’s being real?

We are bloggers, people who have decided that a particular blog was interesting enough to subscribe to. (As a quick side note, I say subscribe and not follow because everyone “following” your blog is not necessarily following your blog. Instead, I like to think of it as people who decide to subscribe to receive your post in their emails or in their readers. And although I do have something called “Audience participation” I see each of you more as individuals) For those of us who have trusted that blog enough to take off our shoes (please don’t leave footprints on the carpet, thanks) and sit down and leave a comment at the table, or to like once or twice, it is obviously easier to get to know those people, and they become much more than just a subscriber we never hear from. But they become associates. And maybe even friends. I say friends slowly and loosely. Everyone is not your friend, that’s just real and it’s an important thing to know when interacting online.

But in any event, how do I see you?

Well, like I said, I see you breathing and believing and filled with emotion and background and circumstances like every day people. I wouldn’t say that I am standing before podiums and stages. I stand instead before you a woman. You walk into my place and we pull up chairs and gather together close like a writing group. I offer you beverages and snacks because I love to eat and I’m sure you do too. And depending on the atmosphere, we may even have a little wine. I only require that everyone has their writing brains turned on and their utensils ready to begin. Together, we nestle ourselves shoulder to shoulder, pencil, pad, smartphone or laptop in hand and we share. Our blogs collaborate and we are not just bloggers anymore but this is brick and mortar. Somewhere someone has built a time machine that takes you to this place as instantly as an email and together we meet eye to eye and I face you with my thoughts. There is a moment of silence as you listen and you read and decide how you would perceive the information. Some of you decide to get up and leave and never come back. Some of you scribble little notes on pieces of paper and place them into a drop box. Some of you speak, openly and candidly, you match your experience with mine. Some of you nod your head, and it is my hope that we can build. I picture us laughing and joking and learning and who knows where we’ll end up. Someone somewhere will get so upset that they storm out of the room. Some of you will cry because you can. Some of you will engage me in thought provoking and in depth conversation and who knows how long we’ll sit there.

And at the end we all give our goodbye greetings and there’s a sign-up sheet. Will your name be among those who will return? I wonder.

On the other hand, how about you? How do you see yourself as a blogger if you had to sit face to face with your subscribers? Would things be different? Would you be more or less nervous? Would you be the same person offline as you are online?

MSN Reports: “These twins can teach us a lot about racial identity”

As many of you already know, I also happen to be a twin. So naturally, I was drawn to this story. Racial identity also happens to be the central theme of the short story series (Stella Trilogy) I’m writing, each part surrounding a person’s search for identity, knit together by the same blood. Book #1: Between Slavery & Freedom is available now on Amazon, B&N, Kobo, Lulu, iBookstore, etch. In the meantime, check out this article.

BBibCwu.img — © Provided by Vox.com Lucy and Maria Aylmer as children (YouTube)

MSN News Article:

“There’s a set of biracial twins in the UK who are turning heads because one is black and the other is white.” That’s how the New York Post introduced a profile of Lucy and Maria Aylmer, 18-year-olds whose father identifies as white and whose mother is “half-Jamaican” (and, we’re to assume, thinks of herself as black).

It’s just the most recent story of fraternal twins born with such dramatic variations in complexion they’re seen by many — and even see themselves — as members of two different racial groups.

Each of these situations and their accompanying striking images, is a reminder of how fluid and subjective the racial categories we’re all familiar with are.

What “black and white twins” can teach us about race: it’s not real

Lucy and Maria’s story, and all the other sensational tales in the ” Black and White Twins: born a minute apart” vein are actually just overblown reports on siblings who, because of normal genetic variations that show up in more striking ways in their cases, have different complexions.

But they’re fascinating because they highlight just how flimsy and open to interpretation the racial categories we use in the US and around the world are.

Even the Post’s description of the Aylmer twins is clumsy, asserting that they’re each “biracial,” but stating in the very same sentence that one is white and the other is black.

And the fact that the two, despite having the same parents, see themselves as belonging to two different racial groups ( “I am white and Maria is black,” Lucy told the Post) proves that there’s a lot more than biology or heritage informing racial identity.

It’s a reminder that the racial categories we use are fickle, flexible, open to interpretation, and have just as many exceptions as they do rules when it comes to their criteria for membership— that’s why they have been described as “not real,” meaning:

They’re not based on facts that people can even begin to agree on. (If we can’t even get a consensus that people with the same parents are the same race, where does that leave us?)
They’re not permanent. (If Lucy decides one day, like many other people with similar backgrounds, that her Jamaican mother is black and therefore, so is she, who’s to stop her?)
They’re not scientific. (There’s no blood test or medical assessment that will provide a “white” result for Lucy and a “black” one for Maria.)
They’re not consistent (Other twins with the same respective looks and identical parentage as these twins, might both choose to call themselves black or biracial.)

“Not real” doesn’t mean not important

Of course, none of this changes the fact that the concept of race is hugely important in our lives, in the United States, in the UK where the twins live, and around the world.

There’s no question that the way people categorize Lucy and Maria, and the way they think of themselves, will affect their lives.

That’s because, even though race is highly subjective, racism and discrimination based on what people believe about race are very real. The racial categories to which we’re assigned, based on how we look to others or how we identify, can determine real-life experiences, inspire hate, drive political outcomes, and make the difference between life and death.

But it’s still important to remember that these consequences are a result of human-created racial categories that are based on shaky reasoning and shady motivations. This makes the borders of the various groups impossible to pin down — as the “black and white” twins demonstrate — and renders modern debates about how particular people should identify, futile.”

Recipe Sunday: The Mung Bean

So I have a niece with extreme allergies. As a result she is a vegetarian, but not just a vegetarian but extreme vegan. Her allergies are so bad that she cannot eat meat and is pretty much allergic to anything you can find in the dictionary. So anyway, I invited my sister and my nieces to my home to chill one Sunday afternoon and my sister mentioned we were having burgers.

“Burgers? But niecee can’t eat burgers”.

“Oh yes she can”, said sis, “She can eat these burgers”.

And this is how I was introduced to the Mung Bean.

My sister (we’ll call her V for now) made some of the most delicious vegan burgers I’ve ever tasted for them not to be made of meat. Now mind you my household is meat-a-tarians. I don’t have to define that for you do I? So yea, we meat eaters around here. But we both enjoyed the burger alternatives. Throw some cheese on there and make it up like a regular burger and Burger King ain’t got nothing on you. She made them thick and meaty too. V also makes imitation steaks out of these. So today I would like to share some information with you on the Mung Bean from an Article V gave to me written by a woman named Kim @ Affairs of Living:

“If you eat beans, but haven’t yet ventured into the wonderful world of mung bean, you must! Mung Beans are used in many ways in SE Asian, Indian, and Middle Eastern cuisine. They are soaked, ground and used for flat-breads. They are sprouted and served raw. They are processed into noodles. They are peeled and split, and used to make dal, where they take on a smooth, velvety texture that is a true comfort food. They are cooked whole with coconut milk to make a sweet soup. They are mashed and used as fillings in sweet buns and deserts. They are cooked plain and added to various rice dishes. Quick cooking, full of protein, and easily digested, mung beans are considered to be an extremely healing and nourishing bean. Because they are small, they are easier to digest than larger beans, and are recommended for cleanings the body toxins. In Ayurveda medicine, they are considered tridoshic, meaning people of every constitution can find nourishment in the mung bean. And in Chinese medicine, mung beans are considered a cooling food and are recommended for detoxification, clearing heat, reducing swelling and edema and promoting urinary tract function.

Dry mung beans can be purchased in a variety of ways. Whole, they are bright and green. Or you can purchase them split where they take on the name moong dal. You can get moong dal either with the skins still on and or peeled-once peeled, they are light yellow. I love peeled moong dal, it is probably my favorite. I generally buy mung beans at the Asian markets, where they are the cheapest (this is also where V buys hers).

Hint: You can also use the mung bean as a flour!

“Additionally, it is high in iron, folate, copper, magnesium, manganese, phosphorus and potassium. Mung beans are also considered a low glycemic food, and are perfect for people concerned about blood sugar spikes. Using mung bean flour combination with other flours is a great way to add extra protein, fiber, and healthy, slow-digesting carbs.

Homemade Mung Bean Flour – Gluten Free, Vegan, High Protein

Yield: Approx. 2 1/4 c Flour.

Ingredients:
2 c mung beans (either whole or peeled or split or a mix)
Equipment:
Coffee Grinder or High Power Blender

Roasting the Beans:
1. Preheat oven to 400 F.
2. Spread beans evenly on baking sheet. Place in oven and roast for 20 minutes until golden, stirring every 5 minutes to prevent burning.
3. Remove from oven and cool completely.

Grinding the Beans:
1. In a coffee grinder or high power blender, grind the beans in batches. I used a coffee grinder (No, not me, Kim) and ground 1/2 c beans at a time.
2. Grind for approx. 30 seconds, shaking beans in grinder to evenly mix.
3. Once your beans are ground to a fine powder, transfer to a large bowl and grind the next batch.
4. Once all of your beans have been ground, let the flour cool (Grinding warms it up!) and then transfer to an alright container. Store in a cool place.

Responsibilities

I know I know it’s been a scarce week (or two) here on The PBS Blog. Truth is I began a number of projects years ago that are starting to show signs of fruit. I am completing my first short story series. In fact, Stella Book #1 Releases Next Week which will be promptly followed by additional parts taking me well into the summer and just in time to begin work on Pearls Before Swine Vol. #2 in the fall. Needless to say I expect to have a busy year (yaaasss). But the biggest project, the one I am super siked to be on the finishing end of is the audio for my Third Poetry Book Collection “Womanhood Don’t Begin in Menstrual Cycles”, which releases next month (March). But while I set out to organize my life offline, it led me to today’s post: Responsibilities.

This has nothing to do with projects or books, but life. As we go about our daily routines and the accomplishments of our goals there is a lot missing from the accountability end of this whirlwind of events and circumstances. We must keep in mind that we are responsible for everything we say, everything we do and everything that we write. There’s a quote that says ” We are what we write”, and what a profound truth. I speak and you listen and as a result of my speaking you in turn perceive. You may either accept or reject and that’s your business. I cannot be responsible for the way in which your eyes see, but I can be responsible for influencing what you see. In other words, our personal lives would be so much better if as individuals we took responsibility for who we are and what we are and those things that we influence, good or bad.

A young man dies on the street corner. He is 17 years old. By age 5 he can quote the rap lyric to every rap song known to man. His routine consists of school, TV, food and back again. Homework has been lost in-between. At age 10 he came into the house at whatever hour his youthful activities would warrant. By age 13 he was buying his own clothing and paying his mothers bills. By the age of 16 he was paying her rent altogether. At 17 years old a young man is gunned down on the street corner. The aftermath presents a distraught mother who cannot fathom the animal who would gun down her son. “He was a good boy”, she says. And while I would not doubt he just may have been a nice guy, what was he doing on the corner in the first place? What kind of activities led him there? And at what point does this mother take responsibility for the kind of behavior she approved the moment she accepted what she knew to be drug money? Or perhaps I trip over a rock and scar my face in the process. Oh and I was texting by the way so I wasn’t exactly looking up. I was not paying attention and as such I could not see what was in front of me. This is the kind of accountability in which I speak.

Healing can only come from personal accountability. I can never fix what is wrong with me if I cannot acknowledge my own imperfections. It is important to ask ourselves: “What is it about me that led to this? What is it about my heart that chose this?” Because only until we come fully into the understanding of our personal selves can we begin to make changes. Until then we will never progress in our lives. But once the process of personal accountability has begun, then we will begin to improve on those struggles we once thought were immovable. A bad situation is always a bad situation, but growth is optional. We choose to accept who we are and who we have become. We decide what aspects of our lives will change and which will remain based on our level of responsibility. When we are at fault we choose to accept or deny that fault. And when we have made a mistake we choose how that mistake will change us.

Perception and Reality

I wonder what your life would be like. What kind of thoughts would exist in that head of yours, and what kind of actions they would produce if you were not subjected to the perception of society. Where would we be if infancy did not play tricks on our mental by conforming our ways to those around us? If childhood was met with the kind of vision we often go back to. If foresight was 20/20, would we see what exist or would our lives still be dictated only by what we choose to see?

It is an interesting ponder, where would you be in your life if you were brave enough to neglect civilizations norms? If you were brave enough to risk insanity by choosing to see beyond what is the desire of your personal self. I stare out into the distance and watch as Bobby Kristina fights for her life. But what is really there? Is it a young woman fighting for her life, or is it a life that was doomed to begin with? This is the second time she was found face down in a similar position as her mom. Once before Whitney’s death and again afterwards. What kind of reality was this young woman born into? Is she dying, or is she already dead? I just use this as an example because it is an event fresh in our minds. Are we courageous enough to embrace reality? Or will reality always be plagued by our individual perspectives?

Perception is not always reality. Nor is reality always the way we perceive it to be. We float through life half blind. A physical touching of tangibility engulfs our days. We smell and taste and touch of surface life. Gliding along all the crooked reasons why it is not important to search for the truth beneath the surface. Wondering whether or not we should think inside or outside the box without first asking where the box came from to begin with. We sit here with a handful of normal while amazing stands in the shadows. She is waiting for you to identify her existence so that you may find refuge underneath her wings. Instead we glide along life wondering if the glass is half empty or half full. In the meantime, there is no glass.

Special Places

I find you in diverse places: coffee shops, libraries, community centers, parks, even out on the front lawn! Writer’s sprinkled miscellaneously about the earth: polished glasses, warm tea or iced coffee (depending on the weather), Mac books, PC’s and a 3 1/2 pound miracle between their ears. Is there a special place you go to write? You can’t see it, but it’s there; the invisible surge of energy that powers creativity. Electricity is all around us–the power of technology beating through our cell phones, lights, computers, and dishwashers. Yet technology has not its hold on electricity, for it exists beyond the tangibility of anything we can explain. We have not precisely deciphered its definition or explained the beauty of lightening. Energy, it pulses its way through nature, and slithers its way through our fingers.

The table circles its way around my small dining room, with four chairs to keep it company. One of these chairs props itself against the wall and faces forward. From here I can see the landscape of everything from the living room, to the kitchen and peer out the window at the same time. The swimming pool is naked of bodies and is in need of attention from maintenance. It’s a nice day in Shreve City; right now the community is as quite as it often is on Sundays except for the elderly woman walking her puppies. There is nothing special about this view, yet it is where I go to charge when I have not the solitude of being away at the office. It is an unusual place, yet being here is incentive enough to write. Here I may fulfill the need of written expression the moment I sit my bottom in this wallflower of a chair, revitalized by the invisible power that charges our anxious need to build.

Reading – The Write Way

My first love was Mildred D. Taylor. It was the sixth grade, and I was Smitten for Stacey, Cassie, and the whole Logan gang in the classic “Roll of Thunder Hear My Cry”. I realized then my love for African American literature, history and culture. The sharecropping family had snagged at the core of my heartstrings and had me feigning for every Taylor book ever written. I went on to court “The Road to Memphis, “Let the Circle Be Unbroken”, “Mississippi Bridge” and all the others. It wasn’t a conscious thought of mine that I was coming to love reading. That literature caught my eye and curved my wanting into a lovesick smile. Didn’t occur to me that I’d found an inner itch only scratch-able through the deciphering of words on a page. Clearly I was hooked, spending more and more time at school libraries, showing favoritism toward my English school teachers, and carrying home a grocery store bag of books at a time.

Reading, what is its connection to writing? I’m not a literacy expert so I don’t have any fancy advice to give you. But I do know my love for reading fed my love for writing. I got lost in the world of the authors and their writing became an automatic mimicking on my part. Almost just as instant as I’d fallen for reading I fell for writing. It is almost inherent that a love for reading will eventually lead to a love for writing. Eventually I wanted to be the architect behind the words. I wanted to be the illustrator behind the way the sky looked, how tall the buildings were and what dress Doris decided she’d wear today, or if she would wear a dress at all. I was introverted and reading and writing provided an avenue of self-discovery and speech. And so I sat down at the table, and I painted words on a page.

I can’t imagine giving students advice on writing, without a lecture on how important it is that they read. It is possible to develop a longing for the writing process without having a love for reading at first, but it is my opinion that in order to grow and to nurture this longing, the student must attempt to develop a love for reading. It is not research that teaches one how to write novels and screenplays. It is not fancy degrees and hours of lecture time. Higher education surely helps, but it is not the focal point of learning how to mentally process what it means to write. Reading is in my opinion, the write way. When you sit down to read a book, you’re not just lost in the story, but you are taking in the way that writer is building his world. You learn how to structure dialogue, setting, and character development to name a few, all just by reading. School teaches us the techniques, the mechanics of writing; school teaches us to be conscious of things like mood and tone, but this is not the first time we are introduced to it. Higher Education teaches us to be consciously aware of these things, but we begin using them far before organized instruction. I’ll give you a real life example:

When I was a junior in High School, my AP Lit professor gave us an assignment where we had to write a series of poems using varying poetic techniques, such as imagery for example. When I got my paper back, what caught my attention is a little note from the teacher that read: “Great use of Alliteration!” It caught my attention because I didn’t even know what that was. Alliteration is basically the repetition of words with the same consonant sound occurring closely together such as: “But a better butter makes a better batter.”

But I didn’t know this back then, nor was it ever taught to me. I had to look inside of a dictionary for the meaning of Alliteration because I had never heard of it before, yet I used it here. I used it because it is possible that I read it and picked up on it. As a matter of fact, with all the books I read prior High School I am sure I read it somewhere, and thus stored it in my mental capacity, which I became consciously aware of by way of organized schooling. I still have that paper today and every now and again I look back on my teachers remark for inspiration.

One can surely write their thoughts on a page, but the basics of how to format these thoughts come from reading and learning from others who have already done it. Anyone can take ideas from the head and transcribe them, but to create an entire reading (of whatever form) based solely on desire without having read the works of others, I cannot imagine it. Reading is indeed, the write way.

	trE on Writers Who Shrink
	Yecheilyah on Writers Who Shrink
	trE on Writers Who Shrink
	Yecheilyah on AI is Watering Down Your …
	trE on AI is Watering Down Your …