About the name...

16 October 2005

So I finally decided to give in to the Blog craze out of sheer boredom. I am originally from the great state of Minnesota...land of 5% people of color. We have the distinguished honor of being the third whitest state in the U.S. with the coldest temperatures outside of the Arctic of Antarctic. I used to ride to school in a sleigh pulled by Emperor Penguins. Talk about renewable energy.

But, just about a month ago I took a job in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Now the response I got back home ranged from....ohhhh you are moving to Mexico? Well. It's a good thing you speak Spanish...to folks that just looked at me and blinked very very slowly, shook their heads, giggled and walked away. One friend gave me a medallion of St. Jude...patron saint of impossible causes...I'm still not quite sure if that medallion was to help me out with my transition or some deeper personal commentary on me. Either way...I'll take the help.

So far New Mexico has been pretty cool. The state is more than 50% people of color. Spanish is one of the official languages of the state, and the state has an official state question: Red or Green? This refers to red or green chile which can be found in great abundance here. McDonald's has a green chile hamburger...and I think AVEDA makes a red chile cream rinse just for New Mexicans. But whatever you do...if you are ever asked the question "red or green?" do NOT say I'll take the Christmas blend. That immediately marks you out as a dred-locked wearing, patchwork skirt, cultural appropriating faux-hippie named Starlight Moonshineberry...and I'll be forced to kick your ass the next time I see you leading a Haitian dance class with only two black people in attendance...out of thirty. Be forewarned. And...P.S....CUT THEM DREDS...cuz they ain't nothing but matted dirty wannabe naps up on your scalp. If you ain't of African descent or you don't have blue tatoos painted all over your body and you haven't raided into England lately from the Picti homeland...your white butt should not have dreds. They are a spiritual expression of heritage...and honey...ain't nobody in African named Starlight Moonshineberry.

So...anyway...I started out this first entry to explain the title of my blog: It Ain't Truth If It Doesn't Hurt. I truly believe that. The most trouble I've EVER gotten into in my life (and it's happened more than once) is when I have chosen to tell the naked truth...sometimes in places where it would have been more appropriate or strategic to wait to pull a fight the power moment...but it has been the truth none the less...and it has gotten my ass kicked (figuratively...I've only been in one physical fight as an adult...with a Zionist Jewish Drag Queen from my fraternity...I'll save that juicy tale for another day). But even small truths hurt sometimes. It is human nature to want to spin things in the best possible light..wether or not doing so will serve to move you to a better place of understanding...or another person. We have built up a culture of fear around the truth so potent...that I remember lying as a kid about the stupidest things. Like...Mom would ask who ate the whip cream...and I'd have it smeared from my hairline to my big toe...plus my exact finger prints would be in the top of the cool whip...and I'd try to blame it on my fat baby brother in his Johnny Jump Up. And really think I was pulling something over on someone.  Now...I have to admit that as I have gotten older, I have managed to shy away from the more obvious lies...and turn to the more insiduous lies..the ones I tell myself.

Now...these lies can range from the nasty nasty lies we tell ourselves about our body image that reinforce fucked up self-esteem issues that really have nothing to do with reality...to not wanting to ask for help when I really need it. Cuz truth hurts...when you tell the truth you are opening yourself up to being vulnerable...and really..is there anything more scary or more potential painful...than being vulnerable with yourself or with another person? Perhaps rolling nude in a giant pile of tacks that have been dipped in Hydo-chloric acid and salt...but then again...those wounds are physical. They make bandaids for those sorts of wounds. But when you're soul is bleeding...the Scooby-Doo Band Aids just ain't gonna cut it.

Now that doesn't mean that hurting is a bad thing. Personally, I like a little pain with my pleasure. Especially in the nipple area (ohhh that might hav ebeen an overshare). In this blog...I am going to try and share with you the truth as I see it and feel it. I don't really have a set agenda for this space...except that it is my way to share with you the things that are floating around this cracked out gourd I call my head. I invite feedback....I'd like to know what you are doing and how you are living. Cuz really...it's about us...no matter how much we have...where we live or what we own...in the end it it is about basic human interaction and the truths we find in our lives every day that help us grow and becoming more of the divine spirit that we are and have always been but have been to self-blind to see.

Peace and blessings,

Brandon

PS...Unless I notice a major grammatical error...I ain't going back to edit this stuff...free flow of consciousness and all...u don't like it? Like my Mama says...tough titty said the kitty but the milks all gone! Hehehehehe.