The Fresh Air Fund Wants YOU!

Thinking back over childhood, many of us have fond memories of our summers. School was out, the pavement was hot and the lemonade (or red Koolaide) was flowing. Some of us went to visit Grandma, some of us went to Disney Land and some lucky ones got to go away to summer camp. Summer experiences are almost what shapes childhood. Meeting new friends, trying new things, and getting to just be a kid for two months out of the year. But not every child is lucky enough to be able to enjoy their childhood summers. For one reason or another, so many children have to miss out on that vital compound of their youth. Which is why I'm always so excited to write about my favorite non-profit organization, Fresh Air Fund.

Fresh Air Fund takes thousands of New York City youth ages 6 to 18 and gives them the chance to try something new every summer. The Fresh Air Fund's special program called Friendly Town allows host families in the city to welcome a child into their homes for a few weeks out of the summer. These host families come in all forms and share the desire to give a child a summer experience they can cherish for a lifetime. If you or someone you know is in the NYC area and would like to bring a child into your home for the summer, please contact Fresh Air Fund at (800) 367-0003 for information!

Fresh Air Fund also recruits camp counselors to help out at their camps in NYC. You can also provide donations, assist them in their NYC office or help out with several events throughout the year. To find out how you might be able to help, go to www.freshairfund.org

A contribution may only take a summer, but the effect on a child's life will last a lifetime.

(©2009 Lotus B.)

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Uh-Oh

When love consumes you, I mean really really gets to you. Seeps inside your pores and infiltrates your blood stream. When it's the space between each thought and the breath you hang on to drift to the next word in your sentence. When it's like that, it might as well be like this...

...like a deep sigh. Like, "Its just me and you kid."

(©2009 Lotus B.)

Random Thoughts of Kanye

THIS...

....Looks like a man who definitely has several creams and potions sitting on his dresser at home. He probably takes longer to get dressed than his hairless Barbie doll lady friend (who he has stuffed inside his attache case).

Kanye, I await the day when you finally come out of the closet and stop pretending you like women. You have way too much fashion sense to be straight.

(©2009 Lotus B.)

2010 Grammys: Video Killed the Radio Star

Of course, and as always...the fierce non-supporter of award shows that I am I didn't follow any of the Grammy coverage. Not the ACTUAL Grammy coverage. I mean...let me guess.. Beyonce cleaned up, Rihanna performed, some comedian hosted...someone kissed someone during a presenting speech...and more than a few people had to be "bleeped" out because their manufactured "edginess" was too much for the FCC. I'm sure if I take the 1998 Grammy's show and add an iPod, I've pretty much not missed a thing.

However, I DO (as always) follow the highlights that actually MATTER...the fashion. At least...it used to matter.

This year, as I browsed The YBF, People and (the bible) Women's Wear Daily, my eyes are silently bitch slapped with the birth of something that's been brewing for a few years now...

...REALLY FUGLY costumes.

Of course, I'd like to blame Beyonce like I usually do, but I have to hand this over to that musical strangeness herself, Lady Gaga. I admire her fashion balls, she is an innovator when it comes to her own image. She far surpassed the guts of any other pop star and often enters down-right-ugly when she appears in public just for shock's sake. She got the attention of her audience, that's for sure. I heard about her outfits before I ever heard a bar of her music. When I did hear it...I have to admit it was a little anticlimactic. Yes, her sound is awesome, fun and her lyrics (her's?) are original, but I mean...c'mon, she clearly takes her "sound" ques from Madonna.

However, I digress. This year the chosen duds reminded me less of Grammy worthy stage clothes and more of...well...the 1992 Winter Olympics. It's obviously a "I can top her" game. The half baldies, the Ferdinand piercings, the tattooed fingers, the 9-inch heels, the latex vaginal infection pants, the endless amounts of glitter...it all vomits into these media hyped events. It's a circus. There's less interesting things coming out of these women's mouths every year. The music? Who even cares anymore? I wouldn't even bash the fits, if it weren't for the fact that music has become a paint by numbers game, at least if you want a Grammy. More creativity goes into the "scandalous" outfits these lady's choose to wear (or should I say "bare") instead of their craft. I'm sorry but, "Single Ladies" isn't exactly speaking to a generation... Ahhh well....that's the Pop game for you. I guess we'll all just have to settle for mediocre borrowed creativity and underfed "role models" prancing around in drag queen outfits that could feed a small country.

(©2009 Lotus B.)

19 Days to Implode

So it's been an interesting week. The tic-tocking of my own imagination making the moment slow to a crawl. I've been trying to get some "packing" done...or at least some thorough throwing away(ing?)... This is usually my favorite part of moving. An excuse to traipse through my taped-up boxes and flip through old journals. I read an entry from my 99-03 journal about the day I met Valentine. Fittingly, the very next entry (a week later) was about our first argument. Old photos, old birthday cards, old notes I used to pass back and forth with Hoody in science class. Neatly packed again, shipped again, unpacked again.

I'm beginning to hope this time will be the last of the moves. The nomad is reformed. She seeks a place to lay her shit, let the dust settle around it and create grooves on the floor. She's said this before...but maybe it's within reach now.

(©2009 Lotus B.)

ER: A Deadly Disease

I think the scientists and pharmaceutical developers of the world should put down their microscopes (or whatever) and focus on a new epidemic.

Every day MILLIONS are effected by it.

It tears apart homes, ruins lives and futures....

It's something that until a cure is found will be virtually unstoppable.

No, I'm not talking about cancer or obesity....

I'm talking about EMOTIONAL RETARDATION.

This sickness is genetically inherited and totally incurable. It lurks in the minds of mostly unsuspecting males but women are not exempt from it's callous and dangerous evolution.

ER is a disease that causes men to unknowingly annoy the people who love them to the point of needing to be confined and often times quarantined from their loved ones.

Until now the only available treatment for ER has been physical abuse or intoxication.

I rally that we search for a better future for our men (and women).

Lets put a stop to Emotional Retardation.

**Paid for by the Initiative to Create a Better Man

(©2009 Lotus B.)

Nothing, Nevermind.

I know I can be pretty vague when it comes to blog posts...usually it's because I'm trying to spare some one's (or several people's) feelings... But the question as of late seems to be "Are you going to NYC?"

New York was never a question. Ever since my room mate from hell conjured up the idea of leaving my California life behind and starting anew in the big city...New York has become a part of my salvation. Almost like a safety blanket. When I left CA, I was also running away from D...the man I could never understand...and who could never really understand me. Then New York became the thing that took me from my family and this man I gave up on too fast. I returned to him...but somewhere along the way realized that I had left out of fear. Fear of loosing him, fear of taking on more than I could handle...fear of being broke. I looked around Houston and it hit me like a ton of bricks... "Hell no.." it said, "wrong city, bitch."

So I made my plans of escape. Back to New York...back to my BFF...back to Brooklyn and crazy weather and incredible nights out and snow boots and subways. I had absolutely nothing distracting me as I piled my things onto a truck and moved into my temporary apartment in Houston. All I had to do was wait it out.

Nothing is ever that simple. Between falling back in love with my ex (Valentine- who lives in California), recently loosing my Grams and missing the crap out of my family...suddenly I wondered if New York was the right choice after all. Career-wise it was the smartest move I could pull. But what about my heart? Asking Valentine to come with me seemed like the best thing to do. But what if he doesn't go? As he teeters on the edge of yes or no...I'm stuck in limbo. Do I put New York on hold and soak up family and love...possibly (and finally) having my own little world with someone who really understands me? Or do I stay the nomadic girl I've always seemed to be...shrugging off my feelings and keeping my tires pointed East?

It's because of this dilemma that I say "Meh" when people ask me when or where I'm moving. It's because of this that once again I feel like an old CD that keeps skipping right before the outro. I'm torn between love of self and love of others. Between needing this man in my life and needing to stick to my plan... Either way I'm leaving Houston in 28 days.

(©2009 Lotus B.)

Sleeping and I Can't Get Up

I feel so out of touch. So a-mess...so broken and tired and out of it. It goes way before Grams...I've felt like this a little more each day for a while. I feel like I need to overhaul my life. Make a dramatic change.

I feel like going through everything I own and throwing out anything that doesn't make me immediately smile.

I feel like emptying my address book of any contacts I haven't heard from in more than 6 months.

I want to stop eating cheese (but I probably won't)

I want to loose a bunch of weight...like to the point where people start wondering if I'm ok.

I want to revamp my iPod and find new music.

I want to start packing, even though I'm not sure yet where I'm going.

I just want to move or dance or something.

Ughhh..I just want to jump off a cliff or ride a roller coaster or a bull or something dangerous.

I want to get the hell away from all these fat fucks in Houston and go back to my own habitat...I want to scream and bitch slap the entire world, and tell it to wake up. And tell it to wake me up.

(©2009 Lotus B.)

The Hair-Pullers Retreat

Mad respect to my man's ex....I was surprised (and relieved) to witness her kind gesture via email yesterday. She had plenty of reason to be hostile, but eventually the claws got put away. I have to shout it out because as always, I give props where props are due. She probably won't read this, but to all those ladies out there who grudge their man's ex or their ex's lady.... put it down and let it go.

(©2009 Lotus B.)