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MissNikkiAnn Is Adamant (contains explicit language)

An Ongoing Project: MissNikkiAnn Salutes Women 100.0

MissNikkiAnn Salutes Women 100.0

"We are one with Mother Earth. We are beauty. We are the nurturer. We are. We shall forever remain. No matter how man destroys the mother, she will survive and will one day regain the respect she lost."
~MissNikkiAnn

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Of Course

Of course there's more to this than we can fathom.  Of course the never-ending days and nights white out our daydreams.  Of course knowing this provokes some suppressed feelings to momentarily court us as it vainly and naturally expressed itself in our twenties.  Of course we leave it all behind.  Of course we didn't want it to prematurely abandon us as life went on with what it had to do.  Of course we blamed everything for its departure.  Of course if it were still here we'd find ourselves barreling out of control.

But of course.

~MissNikkiAnn
February 2014

Much...

Lately I have had so much that I've wanted to say; but with very little time or energy left to do so.  This is not a complaint, only a realization of the matter.  I no longer try to find a groove, for the groove is forced upon me by my ill body and destiny.  In the past the more I grasped at the groove, the greater the distance became.  At this point it's not even a gap, but more like the space of our galaxy. 

Now I am trying to accept what is being and will be.  I flow through courses that Mother Nature has enrolled me in; they are always exactly what I've needed, despite how uncomfortable they make me feel.  Also, I don't trust the events that bring me joy; life is too fickle to allow for a joyous constant.  Pain and joy are friends, and each allows the other to have some spotlight. 

Me, I remain as the Self, watching it all unfold, taking note of how life automatically does what it is going to do.  No...I am not happy; if anything, I am overbooked with busying myself with tending to my body's need and  tending to those I care for.  And that does suffice.

~MissNikkiAnn

The War on Growing Up: Whistle Bullies?

MissNikkiAnn's Live Spreecast:

The War on Growing Up: Whistle Bullies?

Aired: Sunday, September 1, 2013 at 11:39am EDT

I Find You Guilty of Peeing, Pooping and Sleeping

i think it absolutely absurd how much i think i can do in one day

the demands are high

the actual accomplishments, typical

and on a typical day, i won't even put into action 1% of my brainstorms/brain farts

i will probably only attend to my basic needs: eat, drink, pee, poop, sleep

there will be moments in the day where i will believe that

eating,

drinking,

peeing,

pooping

and sleeping

are not big enough accomplishments for my theoretical superhuman abilities

but my accomplishing those not big enough things makes me a winner at being human

at odd times, i am a recipient of life's and mother nature's serendipitous--seemingly magical and miraculous--moments, most of which won't even register with my tiny brain cells because i will be appropriately and understandably occupied with

eating,
drinking,
peeing,
pooping
and sleeping.

but that one serendipitous moment (or, finally, one brainstorm) that is made manifest will make me feel as if i, indeed, had been living as a superhuman all along

and that glimpse of magic will almost instantly, and surely innately, be pushed aside by my dire need to take a poop, a pee and a nap--waking later to feel hungry and thirsty

and then eventually (and again), hungering and thirsting for my once momentarily vivid superhuman abilities

~MissNikkiAnn
"Be good.  Be patient.  Be around-the-clock tending to your body's needs."

We Don't Know We Should Be Bored

At times we just do not know what we are doing.  We're working with a tainted and cloudy picture of what we believe any given situation to be.  I always hope that I sleep soundly.  Sound sleep is the one place where none of it matters.  Sleep can be rejuvenating.  Lack of sleep can make life difficult and burdensome.

And the clock.  The clock keeps ticking.  And the time and date are everywhere.  No matter the time of year, I always view the calendar days, weeks and months as "flying by."

But it is bedtime now--way past my bedtime.  I have done all that I will do for now.  After some sleep, maybe I can convince myself (and encourage those who are low in spirit) that life is going to work itself out. That no matter how weighted I feel with the days events, I will probably live to see another average human day--eventful or not.

And I hope for boredom.  Some simple boring summer days where I can finally say that old saying:

No...not fuck you! 

Though that phrase can be cathartic,

I am speaking of that childhood moment when kids adamantly insist...

"Ma!  I am soooooo bored.  There's nothing to do."

And if you're a girl...

"Boys get to do EVERYTHING!"

(And it was true. And my mother did not argue with that part.)

~MissNikkiAnn

"May your summer bring rejuvenatingly boring moments." 

*MissNikkiAnn throws pixie dust into the air, hoping it will touch and unburden many, even herself.

I Have Some Bad News

Democracy is not equivalent to perfection.
~MissNikkiAnn

Quotable: "You Can Touch My Hair But You Cain't Touch My Hair Scarf" by MissNikkiAnn

And I mean that shit.

~MNA

BE-ing Grounded

See the trend but do not panic.  

I repeat:

Do Not Panic.

You have more time than they say you have.

News machines are contagious.

Research.

Research the contagion.

Be sure that the contagious contagion is worth the drama.

You have time to window shop.

Most of your life is--and will be--spent waiting.

Just because something is repeated and hammered to death every minute and every second of our waking day does not mean the medium is magically moving any faster. 

It is perfectly safe to consume less frequently--or even abandon the vehicle.

Don't forget to tuck, drop and roll.

Time.

You do have it.

Time.

It is not lost.

Time.

It is not wasted.

But sanity...

Drink it up before the expiration date.

OR

Drink it after the expiration date.

~MNA

A Confession

I still have no clue who Justin Bieber is or how he gained his fame.  So as a woman who was born in the 70s and grew-up during the 80s pop culture scene of BET and MTV, I am (at this moment) trying to invest FIVE MINUTES into researching this guy.  My main goal is to listen to ONE song.  But even as I type this, I feel my interest waning (seriously. my illness has given my once-focused mind ADD.).

I am now starring at my screen, contemplating my:  "Chocolate is proof that God wants us to be happy" mug.

I now realize that chocolate as a skin tone is what I hope this mug is referring to.

Starring at the mug.

Thinking of Paula Deen's innate ability to say "nigger."

Hearing footsteps on this Sunday morning.

Sounds as if my mom is getting ready for church.

African Methodist Episcopal (AME) Church.

Reminder as to why chocolate people had to establish churches for themselves.

Avoiding going to powder my nose because my illness is affecting my knees and I can barely convince them to bend.  And when they do bend (on their own will and time), the pain is fierce; and afterward, I am unable to get them to straighten out to stand.

My legs hate me.

Racist legs.

Restless legs.

The onset was acute and sudden.

Overnight.

Rheumatologist visit.

X-rays taken.

Physical therapy ordered.

Wait...

Ranted Ramblings on Disco Piss

The hamster is hiding in one of her loops.  I haven't known her long, but so far she seems to go there when Sir and I have frustrated the shit out of her.  I mean, I have good reason.  If she'd just stop shitting and pissing in her wheel then I could spend less money and time poking at her and trying to potty train a thing that  likes to piss, shit and run as a bathroom break.

And then my POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome) symptoms have arrived right on schedule to remind me why I hate spring and friggin' summer, I am bedridden and my world is like an spinning disco ball with hints of some hallucinogenic hippie drug that makes spinning in circles after a long day AND night of drinking look like its bitch--I am up at 2:30 in the morning feeling hungover without the prerequisite of partying and drinking.

Did I mention that racism is rampant?

A Story: Epipen and Nasty Nan

found myself alone with an amazing from scratch spaghetti with meat sauce by one of my favorite family-owned restaurants.  this is new england, so great italian food is not hard to come by (and i ain't talking processed olive garden shit).  this was my second day with the same dish.  the day before the outside and inside of my mouth began to set on fire from the onions.  but i wanted it so bad that i kept going.

i am highly allergic to onions, scallions and garlic.  highly.

i am also prone to being an idiot.

but how can one live in a highly italian populated area and not eat onions and garlic?  it is near impossible.

a little over a year ago i had to epipen myself after coming into contact with onions.  let me be clear: i did not even consume the onions, mom was cooking with them on the OTHER SIDE of the house.  my throat began to close up...what a horror

now here we are.  a little over a year later.  i HAD been diligent about even being near onions/scallions/garlic.

this time, not only did my mouth and esophagus get set on fire but my entire body felt as if it were being cremated.

then my throat began to close up.

i panicked.

grabbed 2 benadryls.

and refused to epipen (i have heart issues and the epipen's epinephrine causes my heart too many issues).

but...it kept closing.

i panicked even more.

tried to find the epipen in my purse.  couldn't.

dialed my mom while the 8-year-old watched me in horror as i flung all the shit from my purse onto the floor.

found it.

stabbed myself with it.

cried like an idiot who had forgotten that she'd CHOSEN to put her body at risk.

popped another benadryl and then some clonazepam, propanolol and emergency inhaler.  yelled at the 8-year-old to rub liquid benadryl on my raw back.

waited and sat in front of a fan to cool my burning body down.

time passed.

i survived...

and noted that Nasty Nancy (nickname i gave to our new pet dwarf hamster whose real name is Ala Luv Cake) slept through the entire episode--my screaming, crying and everything.

then the 8-year-old gave me a lecture.

then mom gave me a lecture.

i did not give myself a lecture.

later that night, i gave Nasty Nan (short for her Nasty Nancy nickname (yes, i am an idiot)) a lecture about not having my back and sleeping through my hellish episode.

Nasty Nan looked at me.  sniffed the finger that i was pointing at her cage.  and did what Nasty Nan does: got in her wheel (which she truly thinks is her bathroom) and shat and pissed in it while running to nowhere.

enough.

wait...did i mention that i think Katt Williams is a genius?

i know some of you will have to google that name.

Freestyle Ramblings: I Could Almost Cry

Finding my way out of a hole.  Crazy rabbit hole.  A rabbit hole that seems to be turning into a circular mess.  Sometimes you have to let life be a mess.  No....didn't like the sound of that, or the false-hood of it.  Life is a chaotic mess.  Our world is.  Space is.  Organized chaos?  Coming together for a mashup of some amazing moments.  Mashup.  Circular mashup.  Love it.  Then hate it.  Be afraid of it.  Or go with it.  Really one has to go with it.  The only other combination would be going with it while utterly afraid of it.  Laws prevent too many other options.  Chaotic Laws.  My being as a lawful body.  Humans as a lawless set.  Mother Earth as an enabler.

April 2012

Coffee and Outlook: Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions (BDS)

From where I'm sitting, today is proving to be just as impressive as all others.  We humans never miss a beat when it comes to slow shock value.

Let's look at it:  Noam Chomsky asked Professor Stephen Hawking to boycott an academic Israeli conference--and Stephen was down for the cause.  

We can rightly assume that this intention will grow massively as very little time passes.  This particular issue (Israeli powers) had been thawing from the freezer that American had placed it in.  Noam's push was a move for somebody (hell! ANYBODY) to finally tackle what is eating away at many souls:  The war on "ordinary" Palestinian people.  

Ordinary.  The working class.  Folks who just want to get on with the tasks that nature deems important: eating, sleeping, pooping, peeing, and procreating.  Mothers and grandmothers who have no idea who Chomsky is want to continue to do the job that is innate.  Men?  Well...that's too long of a story.  A story that time is addressing, a story that is bound to write itself when we women take the time from eating/sleeping/pooping/peeing/procreating-raising-children.

Where are we?  We are at the part where President Obama has to slowly tweak his speeches on how he feels about Israel and American Jews--he needs them more than he needs American Negroes.  With that being what it is, common sense Americans are finally realizing that Chomsky's microwaving of the formerly thawing issue is what it is going to take to accomplish what the BDS and so many others want:  the freeing of the ordinary Palestinian people.  

I guarantee that we are about to see some historical changes unfold.  Hell, the fact that I am even taking time to blog about it speaks loud and clear.

~MissNikkiAnn 

MNA Speaks: From Lent to Easter

Was just thinking on how...

We are never satisfied.

It has occurred to me that...

~MissNikkiAnn

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Ain't It The Truth, Ruth!: "Minister Farrakhan - 3 Things To Never Teach Black People"

And I must say...massah did a guud job not teachin nuffin.

But glory be to the great "I Am" (God)...if our compassion were worth its weight in gold...

As I always tell my friends in confidence: 

"You don't have to worry much about the black man; he don't pump fear in anyone but his own people, for he reaches not far from home to steal and rob what he needs.  The one to watch is the friendly corporate man adorned in what appears to be neutral clothing and air. Him. He be the one. Watch for him, for even in your slumber, he is coming for you. Always.  And he's a cannibal, eats the flesh of his own--ask 'middle class' America about him...they're learning what we niggas already knew..."

~MissNikkiAnn, from me to my readers, in quiet and honest confidence