Random Thoughts

As a lively discussion about the NFL emerged on Facebook between myself and a friend, another party jumped into the conversation. I was quick to continue the point I was making which elicited the following response: Wow a female that knows sports rare ❤️😍🌹😊 Sigh. I pointed out that not only do I know football but I actually work for the NFL. A job I acquired partially for my knowledge of the NFL. My friend was quick to vouch for me and the guy was quick to take his word for my football acumen. The fact that my friend had to vouch for me at all is still very frustrating to me. I have been following the NFL all of my life. Some of my first memories are of watching football on tv. I have been blogging about the NFL since 2009. My college degree is in sports journalism. And as I previously stated, I work for the NFL. Football is not just something I casually observe it is a passion. Despise my extensive knowledge and background, I am constantly having to prove myself as a legiti...

Today marks 24 years since the death of my mom. Admittedly the death of a parent is inevitable, but losing my mom at only 20 was very hard. To lose her three days after my 20th birthday was harder. To lose her just eight months after the death of my step-mother was devastating. I was ill-prepared for  life without a maternal figure in it. This isn't the story of how my mom died, maybe I'll re-write that story someday, rather this is more how her loss has effected me all these years and how I've come to live with such an enormous hole in my life. People ask me how long does it take to get over the loss of a parent. Honest answer is you don't. Not ever. You learn to cope as best you can for the rest of your life. Some days are better than others. Some days are so hard you can barely breathe from the ache in your heart. A friend once snapped at me for not being over the loss of my mom and I informed him that until it happens to you, you'll never understand how d...

I sat on the edge of the exam table with my feet dangling towards the floor. From the waist up I was topless minus a paper gown that was open in the front. The air conditioning was on full blast which seemed odd for an early January day. I was freezing cold and nervous as I waited for my doctor to come in the room. How did I get here? Flashback to July of the previous year. I suddenly developed an excruciating pain in my right breast. A pulsing unbearable pain that no amount of painkillers would make go away. I couldn't sleep and spent weeks popping six to eight ibuprofen and eight acetaminophen per day and massaging my breast all day and night trying to get the pain to stop. Finally the pain stopped and that's when I began to notice the lump. It was small at first, maybe the size of a nickel but I wasn't sure what it was. Common sense would say to have it checked out, but I didn't want to over react to something that could be as simple as breast tissue breaking down ...

I have spent my life trying to live a life definitively as a biracial woman in a society so determined to force people into categories and boxes. If I choose to live as one race, am I not, in fact, denying the existence of the other? It is a conundrum I have never fully been able to resolve. That being said, there is one place where my race has never been an issue, and that is interacting with covert racists. Overt racism is easy to know. It's in blatant symbols of oppression and derogatory language. I learned early on to avoid these kind of situations and people. However, covert racism is harder to avoid. It is not obvious and sometimes people don't seem to realize their subtle prejudices and racist beliefs. When I was 15 I worked at a mall food stand. One of my white co-workers asked me to go with her to the CD store. We walked in together and immediately she headed off in the opposite direction from me. I started walking through aisles and browsing different genres of mu...

On Saturday I went to see the movie "Get Out." The movie has received rave reviews and after viewing it, I understand the hype. The movie takes a deep look into the part race plays in a so-called post racial society. While I found the reveal of the actual horror element to be shocking and cringe inducing, it is the racial elements that had a heavier impact on me. Even four days later I cannot shake some of the feelings the movie brought up in me. While there were many scenes I had a hard time reconciling, the scene where Chris is being interrogated by the members of the Armitage family's community was the most unnerving for me. The constant barrage of intrusive and sometimes embarrassing questions along with unneccessary commentary about their favorite African Americans was enough to make me feel uneasy and sick.  I have been the focus of one of these intrusive interrogations, but as a biracial woman, I find these questions coming from both the white and the b...