The weekend just flew by me

So its Monday and I feel like there was no weekend. I spent all day friday cleaning myself up a little. Went to get a get a mani/pedi with my mommy. That felt so good because my feet were looking extremely vicious. My mom and I got a chance to catch up on things which always feels refreshing. My dad put it perfectly, there is jut something about my mom, that makes the hardest things in life seem so easy.

Then I was off to my hair appointment, which I was again way past due for. My friend asked me who I was trying to look cute for? I replied, absolutely nobody, I just pride myself on keeping myself clean cut. I like to look my best at all times, no matter who happens to see me. It isn't for anyone, its for myself. And being an athlete, your skin, feet, fingernails, etc. can get messed up real fast, and I have to take care of it.

The day was filled with a whole bunch of errands! Which means a whole bunch of money being spent! ugh... But I don't splurge as much as I used to. Mostly because I can't. lol. But I have to be responsible and manage what I have, only using my money for the things I need the most. Even with that, the costs add up. But I can live comfortable so there are no complaints.

Sunday was a typical sunday. Layed around for the most part. Watched the WNBA playoffs and then it was off to study hall. A very poductive one at that. I had to write a poem about who I am and call it, "Child of the Americas". I didn't know where to go with it at first, I needed to draw some inspiration from somewhere. So I listened to what has to be one of my favorite poems, biracial hair. A lot of who I am comes from me being a biracial child. And this is exactly what I needed to include in this poem. I needed to talk about my roots. My black roots, my white roots, indian roots, and all that was in between. This is what I came up with...


"Child of the Americas"

I am a product of many things
Many things un-noticed
I am a mixed a breed
A mixed breed mistaken
Often forsaken
For never more than one
Little do they know that I am so much in one.
I am a biracial child and a product of biracial blood.
I am a product of “overcome racism to be together” type of love.
A child of my America
And not the America dreamin one you’re thinkin of.
I am child born into poverty
The kind my mother had to fight generations to get by
To make me a child of prosperity
I am a child of privilege and oppression
Privileged because my mother’s a white woman
Oppressed because she married a black man
So here I stand, and I am proud.
I am a child of a battle well fought
And just for that, I check the other box
I have biracial skin, biracial hair, with a biracial label,
But if you cut me, I do not bleed black and white!
I bleed all that is in me.
I am a child of my roots
From the roots to my head, where my daddy said,
I get from the red roots on my great-grandmothers head.
To the roots of my Creole ancestors
Holding down the soil along the Louisiana Bayou
Fighting amongst Mother Nature and hurricane Katrina
I am a child of my roots
That traveled from Europe and found a home in Chicago
Where my mothers, mothers, mother, started our family a long time ago.
This is my America, a place that I call home
And the soil that I know as my foundation, is not literally the soil of my country
But the foundation who made me their creation
I am a child of my family
With that comes many things, many things noticed
I am my mother’s child
In which I bleed intelligence and beauty
I am my father’s child
In which I bleed courage and wisdom
I am my sister’s sister
In which I bleed laughter and happiness
I am my brother’s sister
In which I bleed passion
In all of this, I have discovered that I bleed love
No color, no shape, no size
I am a child of, if had to be defined
The America that I call mine

I can't really call this the finished product, there's so much more I feel like I need to say. So its still a work in progress. When I got home I read over my familys blog (wesodontgetit.blogspot.com), and I was left with nothing but inspiration, to put my entire life into words! This way I can save them. Words are my form of art. They are my release, and my visions.
I'm off to class and another long hard day.
Todays Schedule:
11-1150 class
1 - 2 team meeting
2-3 open gym
330-5 Workouts
530-7 SAAC meeting (I am a rep for my team)
HOME!

Ta Ta for now
Jay