Corn off the Cob

I helped an old lady across the street today. It’s one of those things you see on television but you never really have the opportunity to do. It made me feel all warm inside to be able to help someone regardless of how little the act may be. She asked, I obliged and we went about our day.

I got this idea. Don’t know if and/or when it can happen but it’s just a thought. A few weeks ago I blogged about an Egyptian girl and made a comment that made it seem that I wasn’t aware of the fact that the original Egyptians were black. I knew this. I also know that the term kemet from which Egyptian derives from means Black. Anyway I got this idea. Often walking or sitting on the subway I overhear conversations many of them based around religion and ideology. I’ve heard everything from Jesus is Black to blacks enslavement fulfills biblical prophecy to orthodox Jews not being the chosen people. When I hear this stuff I go back home and research it to find the answers. I figure they aren’t the only ones to ever wonder those things and if anyone ever asks me I want to be able to answer.

Then I realized how many questions people have about Christianity that if we as Christians were asked wouldn’t have the answers to. Things like why is homosexuality wrong, where in the Bible does it say you can’t cohabitate, how can God let bad things happen to people. Those are questions I have even posed at one time or another. But if someone came up and asked me could I open a Bible and give them a sound answer or would I stand there mouth agape unsure of how to answer? We have to be prepared to answer when people ask. Then I thought what if there was some type of discussion group where people could find the answers to this stuff in a safe environment. Not just Christians but anyone walking off the street. What if there was a discussion group dedicated to researching and finding answers to the hard stuff and anyone could be a part. How much more enlightened would people be? So I thought why not me? Why don’t I start this group and see what God can do?

Why do men decide to test my limits and patience here? It’s like they have a heightened level of boldness that makes them think they are Superheroes and can do anything they want. You ever see the movie What Women Want where Mel Gibson can hear what every woman is thinking. As I walk down the street that’s how I feel except it’s not in my mind. They say it out loud. They make comments, smack their lips and do whatever they feel like doing. So today Captain Wheelchair thought it would be clever to try to get my attention by pretty much rolling over my foot and calling me baby. Are you serious? I mean I don’t discriminate but he was like 50 and gross. I tried to kindly wave off his banter but he put on his cape and decided to roll after me. Dude leave me alone. He persisted so I figured out the perfect plan to elude him. I walked really really fast. If he continues I will have no problem breaking out in a brisk jog, but he got the point. Stay tuned for next weeks episode where someone else will do something crazy just as I walk by. I feel like I’m on Punk’d everyday of my life.

I went to a boxing match and it was so much fun. Most people don’t know how much I like boxing. It’s my favorite sport to watch. I think because when I went through the phase of only having guy friends they had fight parties or gathered to watch the fights. So I went with these girls J Lyn and Brandy that I dance with. They know the people who put the event on. It’s great to watch boxing on TV, but its better watching it up close in VIP. So cool. The crazy thing is that I can’t stand fighting or hearing the crunch of teeth breaking when a fist connects to a face. I couldn’t watch Fight Club all the way through. When people begin fighting on a movie I turn my head and cringe. I hate it. Yet I can watch boxing. It’s the strangest thing. It reminds me of my sister. She loves corn on the cob but refuses to eat it off the cob. Corn is corn but she can’t stand it and refuses to eat it. That’s a direct correlation to how I feel about fighting and boxing. Nine bouts of boxing on a summer evening on the Beach of Coney Island is nice. Fight club is not.

I can’t seem to blend in here. I always do something that places a blaring sign over my head that says: “She’s not from here!!!” The boxing match was no different. As soon as I step on to the sand guess what I do? I do what any normal person would. I took my shoes off. I mean who walks on the beach in shoes? All of a sudden J Lyn begins yelling at me for taking my shoes off. I don’t remember all she said. Something about hypodermic needles. Crack heads. Unsanitary. Who cares I should be able to take my shoes off in sand. So ridiculous.