Okay, so I’m having a fabulous day today. I just thought I’d wish you one too…lol.
Okay, so I’m having a fabulous day today. I just thought I’d wish you one too…lol.
We’ve learned Michael Jackson was not the biological of any of his children. And Debbie Rowe is not the biological mother of the two kids she bore for Michael. All three children were conceived in vitro — outside the womb.
Multiple sources deeply connected to the births tell us Michael was not the sperm donor for any of his kids. Debbie’s eggs were not used. She was merely the surrogate, and paid well for her services in the births of Michael Jr. and Paris.
In the case of Prince Michael II (the youngest), we’re told the surrogate was never told of the identity of the “receiving parent” — Michael Jackson. Three days after Prince was born at Grossmont Hospital in San Diego County, Jackson’s lawyer came to the hospital to pick the baby up and deliver him to Michael.
We do not know if Jackson chose the sperm or egg donors or if he even knew who they were.
Although Rowe is not the biological mother, it’s not a slam dunk that she would lose a custody battle. This type of case has never been litigated in California courts. Since Rowe was married to Jackson when Michael Jr. and Paris were born, there’s a presumption that she’s the biological parent. That presumption can be rebutted by other evidence.
We know there are documents outlining the whole arrangement for the birth of all three kids. Nonetheless, it’s still an open issue with the courts.
Like all things concerning Michael Jackson this is just bizarre. I feel sorry for those kids. They’ll never truly know their own history and where they come from. That was extraordinarily selfish on behalf of Michael.
Steel Magnolia- A southern woman who is strong and independent yet very feminine. (urbandictionary.com)
Except for that female part of the definition I consider myself a Steel Magnolia man. As I embark on my quest to become more assertive towards the people in my life I’m realizing that I feel lighter and freer.
Last week I had an epiphany in counseling. My counselor told me that since I’ve played the role of nurturing caretaker practically my entire life it’s good that I want to look after myself for a change. He also told me that people will (often times unknowingly) continue to take advantage of my nature unless I set up boundaries.
My problem is that I empathize too heavily with everyone. If a random character on television slips, falls, and busts his or her ass I literally feel humiliated for them. Therefore, because of that I go out of my way to not hurt others because I don’t want to be thought of as mean or a bad person. Yet, I’m learning that it does not make me a bad person. And I feel better when I assert myself.
Over the past week I’ve put it into practice. Long story short it has made me feel really good. Yes, I am a gentle man. I am a sweet man. Yet, I am still a strong man who doesn’t have to resort to extreme displays of machismo to prove a point.
I was raised in an environment where to get into an argument or debate was to be in a blood feud of epic proportion. No one could sit and calmly talk a problem out. Basically, I am reeducating myself on how to stand up for myself without resorting to hostility and aggression.
That’s not the life I’m choosing to live anymore. I can still be my sweet self and simply tell someone “no” with a smile on my face.
Anyway, it really does take practice to be more assertive. I am glad I’m learning though. I like myself a lot more now.
I’m starting with the man in the mirror
I’m asking him to change his ways
And no message could have been any clearer
If you wanna make the world a better place
Take a look at yourself and then make a change…
In lieu of the legendary Michael Jackson’s untimely passing I’ve had my CD’s on heavy rotation (I really don’t plan on getting with the MP3 revolution. There’s just something about buying an album). By far my favorite Michael Jackson song is definitely, “The Man In The Mirror.” Although the song is about the plight of those less fortunate than ourselves (e.g. the homeless, hungry, and destitute) the chorus in and of itself speaks to everyone. It is made all the more profound in its simplicity, “I’m starting with the man in the mirror…I’m asking him to change his ways.”
How many times do we meander through our lives blaming others for our failures, foibles, and inadequecies? For instance, “If only such and such would act right then MAYBE I wouldn’t be (insert various descriptive verbs here)…” That Is a common refrain that we often whisper to ourselves. Whenever our lives are thrown into complete disarray and upheaval we render ourselves powerless by placing the entire onus on external forces when in fact the outside is merely a reflection of what is happening internally. Sometimes we have to go into the bathroom (metaphorically speaking of course), shut the door behind us, and face the man (or woman) in the mirror. What is really going on with him in those moments when we feel like there is no way out?
In the past (the very recent past) I’ve had these moments where I felt as though there was no way out of my then current predicaments. My perception was that my life, as I percieved it, was a mere shamble simply because outside forces dictated to me that I was unworthy of: love, respect, affirmation, and happiness. I internalized all of that negativity. Yet, I did not hate myself because of the outside stimuli. I hated me because the voices of affirmation were silent (or so small that I could not hear them). So instead I sought validation from others to the detriment of my own happiness.
In the past I suffered from an attitude of perfectionism in fear of losing the love of others. I learned to be passive and permissive in order to not make waves or anger anyone. However, all that bred in me was anger and resentment. Being a passive bystander in my own life subsequently made me stifle my own voice. Then when I grew tired of being pushed around my voice turned rancorous. Words that once healed, soothed, and nurtured morphed into poisonous darts that paralyzed and ultimately killed: friendships, relationships, and the like. At one point in time there was no medium in my attitude. In order to shield myself from what I percieved as the humiliation of love I cradled myself with hate, internally and externally.
That was before I really took the time to converse with and know The Man In The Mirror. It was the most difficult thing that I ever had to do in life. After being a nurturing caretaker/people pleaser/perfectionist for so many years It was time for me to take the time out for myself…or die (spiritually and emotionally speaking). How could I possibly do that? I still don’t know. I just know that I wanted to live and live abundantly.
Ultimately, I’m glad I did. I found out that the power was always inside of me. No matter what my situation was I always had the capacity for growth and renewal. It wasn’t a matter of changing my surroundings but my outlook within those environments. No matter where I am or who I’m with I know that I always have a choice. No matter how small it is it is a choice nevertheless. “Do I weather this stormy season or succumb to the terrential down pour?” I choose to go through the storm because I know that eventually I’ll be able to play in the sun again, even if its just for a fleeting moment.
We all should stop and look in the mirror sometimes. Don’t just use it as a vessel to create your perfect physical appearance. Take the time to truly look closer. Your life is only a reflection of your inner self, your truest self. Change your opinion of the man in the mirror. When you love him then you give everyone else permission to love him back.
I Love you! I just felt like telling someone other than my cat that I love them today…haha.
Add me to the list of geeks who loathe Transformers 2: Revenge of The Fallen.
If you want a movie with lots of noise, shaky camera work (that places you on the verge of an epileptic seizure), bad acting, shit blowin up, big robots (whom you can’t tell apart because they’re always locked in mortal combat), and more shit blowin up (did I mention that already?) then Transformers 2 is right up your alley…
However, if you like a movie with a decipherable plot, good writing, acting, and all that kind of stuff then you would be better served buying a ticket to Star Trek or Terminator Salvation.
Y’know, I’m not even going to review this stinker. This was a Michael Bay ego-fest. There was no love for the material this go round.
One question I do have…
Optimus Prime sent for reinforcements in the last movie…Tell me why did he get two stepinfetchit coons (the twins…the two racist robots that WERE stereotypical) to help him battle the likes of Megatron and Starscream?
Shia Lebeauf, as usual, is very handsome (imagine young Dustin Hoffmanif he was five times hotter), charming, and likeable. However, even he can’t save this. And, as usual, Megan Fox is playing the obligatory eye candy. I’m convinced that her career will end when she’s 30. She’s nothing more than a, at the risk of sounding vulgar, a hot piece of ass…Megan’s lips (which look like they got a good collagen treatment) had a bigger role than she did.
And who else besides me wanted Sam Witwicky’s parents to die?
Alright, time is over for Transformers. If you truly love transformers you’ll rent Transformers The Movie (the 1986 version) and watch the cartoon series. Revenge of The Fallen was a steaming hot piece of shit!
Save your money!
A disgruntled Transformers fan.
Is it? Why or why not?
There are no wrong answers to this question.
This morning we woke up in a world without Michael Jackson. It still feels sorta weird. However, death is a completely natural part of life. So is mourning…
Which is what I want to talk about right now…
Why do people in this culture believe that they have to be ON all the damn time? What is so horrible about expressing a little melancholy every now and again? I say this in lieu of the fact that since Michael was pronounced dead all these people are dancing around and singing his greatest hits everywhere…
This is not a rock concert people. The man just died.
True, I know that folks mourn differently. Furthermore, I completely agree that his life and work should be celebrated forever and ever. However, I can’t help but think that most of these fools are doing this to boost their own status as the next youtube phenomenon. In a climate where any and everyone can become a celeb over night it appears as though all the fame whores have come out en masse to “mourn” a deceased icon.
Yesterday, I saw a young black woman in front of the Apollo theatre “celebrating” Michael’s life. To make a long story short this fool went home and changed outfits THREE times and made it her business to be infront of the camera each and everytime…And when she was interviewed she mentioned Michael’s name ONCE. The rest of the conversation was self promotion (hell she gave a spontaneous autobiographical account about her life). Furthermore, there was a guy in LA who said that Michael inspired him to leave New York so that he could proceed with his entertainment career and etc etc (going onto make a complete ass of himself on television).
The display was disgusting.
Yeah, celebrate the man’s life. But how about chill the fuck out on the celebrating while those of us who really loved his work get over the fact that he’s…Y’know…never gonna record or perform EVER again? There is a time and a place for everything and it would have been nice to have seen a thoughtful candlelight vigil as opposed to all of these fanatical jackasses dressing up like him and doing their best THRILLER impersonation.
Me, I allowed myself to be somber and today I’ll play his albums in tribute.
Yeah, everybody may disagree with me and I accept that. But I believe there is a more thoughtful and tactful approach. They made his death (much like his life) a damn circus.
I love Belinda Carlisle (GoGos or no GoGos). This is her classic hit single, “Heaven is a place on Earth.” Love it baby!
I would never, ever, EVER, consider bringing a thug home to see my mama (or even date one seriously). Dating some kind of thug is a quick way to wind up catchin a case! However, I fantasize frequently about shaggin off some thug bois…And uhm Kirk Jones (aka Sticky Fingaz of ONYX fame) is the main one. Aight, he may not be everyone’s taste but chile if he ain’t sexy too ME! I love that bald head, gravelly voice, the body (yummy yummy YUMMY), the mean mug, and that SWAGGER. This man has serious thug appeal and it is so hot to me! Yeah, chances are, like most rappers, he’s probably a virulent homophobe…But I’ve heard the rumors. Teeheehee.