Yelp!

I can always use one more diversion in my life. Saturday night I went to the Riverwest Follies for the first time. It was at the Polish Falcon Hall, a legendary bowling alley and hangout in Riverwest. I had been invited by Damien Jones and his wife Jenn who must have been right out of high school when I met them through the Green Party. In the last few years they have formed a band Astral/Subastral and playing gigs around town. My first experience with them was on what I call The Long March named for some event that took place in China.

 

It was at the All Peoples Parade which celebrates diversity, puppetry and all around fun. I had held off going to the Parade the first couple of years and always  regretted it. For some reason I thought it couldn’t possibly be as much fun as the posters looked like it would be. But a  couple of years ago, I trying to encourage the residents of the supportive housing program where I was working to get out and become a part of the community. I encouraged like crazy but no takers. Finally I decided to go to the parade. The parade ended up at the Summerfest Grounds on Milwaukee’s lakefront.

 

I had joined up with a group of mice who were alternately being menaced by or struggling against the locusts. This was all supposed to be a metaphor for the workers versus the bosses. It was great and I recognized several friends. I was free live up to nickname, the local oddball. Of course, there came a twist in the story as the parade entered the Summerfest. Somehow I ended up following Damien and Jenn and their merry group as we marched. I thought eventually we would end up in New Berlin. Eventually, I realized I was 84 years old and had no business   out there with those characters.

 

The next day, I called my family to complain to my mother that she had installed the wrong feet on me when she brought me home from Sears. She said I was lying and had my sister mail me a copy of the diagram. All I could say was, wait for it, Yelp!

 

Green Party Community Picnic (Photo credit: ItzaFineDay)

 

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These are the stories that will not be in your local newspaper, on your radio or tv

Rethink Mental Illness (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

1. Millions of people living with a mental illness went to work, talked with co-workers and were appreciated.

 

2. Several millions lived in harmony with their neighbors, did not draw pistols on them or feel a need to stand their ground.

 

3. Unionized workers performed vital life saving services and some of them were government employees.

 

4. African-American children went to school and arrived home safely and they had better be studying right now.

 

5. A lot of us did not thank invisible beings for the food we received and were okay with that.

 

6. There is a growing number of women who are not having sex with Tiger Woods and he’s a better golf because of that.

 

7. A staggering number of heterosexual couples were unaffected by the gay relationships of their co-workers, neighbors and friends.

 

8. A lot of money given to corporations through tax breaks, interest free loans  and sweetheart deals doesn’t create jobs and may not even be tracked by those are are supposed to do so.

 

9. No one’s deceased loved ones have ever written back and told us that they’re in a better place now.

 

10. A lot of women have no trouble making decisions about whether to bear children or other decisions regarding their sexuality without male clergy or legislators who who lack vaginas.

 

Tiger Woods (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

Women as elusive as the higgs boson particle

Today I was at church trying to understand a service about the Higgs Boson so called god particle. Unfortunately, the only part I understood was a song at the end composed by some local wags. Of course the reason I subjected myself to this torture had nothing to do with science or spirituality. I was there to find a woman. Who knew, eh?

Women, as you know, come in all sizes, shapes, and colors and have an amazing variety of interests and accents. However women generally fall into 2 basic categories: available or not. It is almost guaranteed that any woman you meet on the bus is not available and moreover has at least 5 children.

Fortunately, that is not where I encountered Madame X. I learned about her after I posted a message about community mental health on the church list-serve. She wrote back and said let’s be friends. Things progressed as these things do and soon we were Facebook buds. There might even be a lunch attempted. Be still, my heart.

This matter of identification can be very complicated. For me, not her. Let me explain that I am one of possibly a dozen African-American men who attend the church. Whereas, she is one of several hundred such women who may or may not exist. She could very well be the alter-ego of someone I’ve offended. At any rate, she had sent me a message on Facebook that today could be the day I would be able to verify her existence.

So I figured a little Higgs Boson, a little lunch and then she would poke me. Well, not such a great plan. After I stumbled into the Common Room I looked around and found a few people I knew about this unusual dilemma. “Now you’ve really got to narrow this thing, Kenyatta,” they sympathized. Is she wearing her name tag?

I spotted a woman talking in a crowd who might fit the vague description I had and approached her. I asked her who she was and of course, she was not the Lady in Red. She was also wearing a ring as big as a piece of dark matter. I thanked her and wandered away.

To the ever growing cloak room, I fled and looked for her name tag. And sure enough, when I found it, the tag said, “What’s up, doc?”

Well the next time a woman asks me about having lunch together, I am going to ask her what she knows about particle physics. That will simplify things. There is a back story to this tale of looking for love in all the wrong places. I had read a story about the question: how to disclose and when. Mental illness is not one of those obvious things you would see in a lot of people. Many of the folks I assist would blend in almost anywhere. If you ask how I could have done so many of the things I accomplished while fluctuating from one mood to the next, all I can say is “damned if I know.” But now I’m on the wonderful road of recovery and sometimes when I talk about who I am I have to explain who I was.

I have no idea who I will be. I have an appointment book full of optimism. I have hopeful texts on my cell phone and co-workers who enjoy celebrating together. Yesterday I found a story on Story Corps a National Public Radio series that invites people to tell brief snippets about themselves and their loved ones. I sent it to my friends at work because we should never forget that behind every diagnosis is a person with dreams, hopes and fears.

That is me and my hope that there is someone I’ve never met who will appreciate the gifts that I bring.

I was busy freaking out. Oh, by the way, here’s your hire letter

I’ve been working in my new position since Monday and sometimes it’s like the Army. Hurry up and wait. The first couple of days were very fast paced. I got out into the field, went to see people and started doing my notes. I spoke in staff meetings and attended a couple of groups. I started picking out consumers that I was planning to see.  But suddenly in the middle of today things kind of slowed down.

The computer started freaking out. And then I noticed everyone was gone. I started wondering what was happening. Was there a secret meeting being held where I was being fired? Oh shit. Was I in trouble due to something on the background check? Then about 15 minutes ago three of the supervisors re-appeared. With my hire letter. And I said, Kenyatta, you really need to chill out.

Turning 50

I discovered when I logged to my blog that 50 misguided individuals were now subscribing to my scribblings. This probably reflects a few things: a surplus of leisure time among bloggers who are reading me instead of writing that potentially groundbreaking article that will get them noticed by the McArthur Foundation. I have also mentioned recent efforts by my cat to help market me, given the absence of a robust marketing department. However, even if you did follow a link sent to you by Riley C. Cat, I’m glad that you made the effort. Unfortunately, as an oddball, I find it difficult to truly understand your motivations for doing so.

 I’ve written almost 400 entries and most of the m were much better than this so I hope you won’t start to feel that I hit my writing peak. Stop by again soon and hopefully by then I will have found something deeply moving. You wish.

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Local oddball gets networked. Police investigation to follow

Last week, out of the blue, someone I used to work with called up and and started talking with me. I had not spoken with her in about two months. Not since I had hugged her and said I would miss her. This is a woman about whom I have complex feelings. When we met, a few years ago, I tried to ignore her. I would try to arrive when I knew she would be gone.

That was pretty successful for a while except for the occasional staff meeting. Unfortunately, I found that was not a permanent solution. We continued working together and I found that I had to talk with her. This led to actually getting along together despite constant interference from my other personalities.

Suddenly one day I found that I liked her. Well, wouldn’t you know, that would be the day I accidentally found out she was moving on to a better job. I gave her a copy of Bruce Springsteen‘s song “if I fall behind, wait for me” the last time I saw her. And went on with life. So, of course, as I’m minding my own business last week here this woman calls to talk about how things have been going. Having just written the blog entry about being told not to keep in touch, I mentioned that my supervisor had placed a restraining order against me. That made her worried. Was I wacko? Did I need a med change?

It wasn’t until somewhere around the 10 minute mark of our conversation that I realized she had called to find out whether I might be someone to work with again in the new opportunities being created for certified peer specialists. I ended up trying to get her to come to Madison for Empowerment Days next weekend.

I must be nuts. I don’t understand how I don’t recognize the signs of being networked. I’ve been in a tizzy the last 48 hours. Even the cat told me to chill out. She called the police as part of her wellness plan. If I get networked again in Madison I may not survive the experience. Readers, BTW, this is the point in the blog where you wonder how you could possibly be spending your youth reading about some local oddball in Milwaukee. I have to admit, I have the same problem with our relationship. Let’s try not to keep in touch. Thanks for listening.

The Oddball Couple (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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Local oddball told “don’t keep in touch!”

Nichelle Nichols Visits NASA Goddard for MLK/African American History Month Keynote Event (Photo credit: NASA Goddard Space Flight Center)

Last week I appeared in front of Judge Luther P. Johnson regarding a restraining order that my supervisor at week had requested against me. All I thought I was doing was keeping in touch, which was what she had said that she needed. I know I can be a little bit of an odd duck. That’s what makes me interesting but I guess not everyone seems things the same way that I do.

I fry catfish on Mondays and that somehow makes me a little odd. Sometimes I read books from the end to the beginning. I even write letters to Congress, all things that seem a little obscure. The other thing I do is I contact supervisors. Particularly since last year when I was told repeatedly that I needed to keep in touch with her. So I started sending her a few emails, maybe tweeting her or leaving an occasional voice mail message at 1AM. So far, so good. She would tell me how amusing these items were, although my cat thought I should cool it. “Stop while you’re ahead, Kenyatta.” She’s just so practical.

But if she was such a smart cat, she would have been buying her own food. Just because she talks to me, she thinks she’s all that. Well, as it happened, I probably should have listened to her a little more. I was soon buying electronic devices to help reach out and touch. I would wake up in the middle of the night possessed by the idea that I needed to keep in touch. I would be on a date and then suddenly I had to send out a message.

I even sought out 12 step groups for men who are constantly keeping in touch with women but nothing helped. So now I here I sit with this huge restraining order against me. All my wonderful I-pads and smartphones have been seized. I’m a man without access. The last words of Judge Johnson: “Kenyatta, don’t keep in touch.” I was stunned but I will survive.

restraining order (Photo credit: @MSG)

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Local oddball Goes International and Wild all at Once!

T-shirt for Kuma Bolo (Photo credit: Valeri-DBF)

Image via CrunchBase

One day I looked in a copy of The Onion, which is renowned for its fact based journalism and saw a picture of a guy in a tee shirt that proclaimed: local oddball.  And I thought, that could be me I’m local and quite a strange person and with that I was well on the way to becoming a local oddball. I didn’t buy the tee shirt, because I have too many clothes already.

But my next inspiration was to begin spewing forth my inspiration to tens if not dozens of people across and upon the fair city of Milwaukee. I bought a trusty computer recommended by Riley C. Cat, who you will recognize as a cartoon character in one of my earlier stories and away I was swept. I pondered for a few minutes whether there were guidelines for being an oddball. If I acted a certain way, would I be considered quirky, offbeat or or a poser? You know, one of those types who is a straight laced accountant by day but when he takes off his Lutheranism in front of the computer becomes a Superfreak. This sounds like a character from Barely Political.  But it wasn’t me.

I wanted to be recognized for who I am. Lately I have become more disturbed than ever upon having returned to my faithful computer and thrust myself upon it. When I checked the statistics of who was reading my pearls of wisdom, WordPress began telling me most of my readers were from outside the US. Yes, it’s true, dear reader.

Take yesterday, for example. I had readers from the United Kingdom, India, Haiti, Canada, Cameroon, Sweden, Singapore, Mexico and Honduras. I mean, who knew those places had Internet service? They edged out my local American readers in terms of quantification of enormity times py. And that’s really saying something because you know us Americans, we like to be number one. There were some unintended consequences of this sudden international readership.  I received an email today from the International Association of Local Oddballs, of whom I am a loyal member. Apparently some local oddball who is truly more local than me has filed a complaint questioning my credentials and asking that I be re-classified as some other type of oddball. Hmm. Well, I used to be more local is like reminding people that I used to be taller.

Dear foreign readers, I appeal to your sense of fair play in this matter. I did not intend for you to outsource your blogging. I’m certain there are more local people in Cameroon, Singapore or Mexico for you to read about. In the meantime a committee has been convened to investigate these dastardly charges against me.

Oddball barnstar green (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Tatiana in tee shirt (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Little Known Support Groups You Should Join

Image via Wikipedia

As a peer specialist part of my job is finding resources for people who are experiencing emotional distress. Having revitalized my wildly successful blog last year I have been flooded with tips for my many dedicated followers.

These are among the many support groups I recently uncovered

1. PTAA, Post Traumatic Alien Abductions. If you’ve ever met someone who has been probed by aliens and survived long distance relationships with those fabulously interesting Martians, you know how annoying these people can become. They kill dinner conversation by quoting the latest SF movie and insist upon showing you exactly where ET and his friends had sex with them. Have you ever wondered whether  there wasn’t some place you could send them? Well, now there is hope. Just follow the link at the end of this blog and you and Jan Brewer will be free of aliens.
2. IMVGFDSFUIGE, If My Vegan Girl Friend Doesn’t Shut the Fuck Up, I’m Gonna Explode. If you’re like me, you want to shove a piece of meat in front of some smug vegan and say, bite me.As justified as your actions might seem at the time, some people would consider them morally repugnant. And someone might actually take you up on your offer. A safer alternative might be retiring to your nearest steakhouse for a couple of hours eating some of natures tastiest animals.
3. HCBMH, Herman Cain Broke My Heart. For those true believers who clung to his every word  and understood  the genius behind his 69/69 tax proposal I know you mourn for the one who was too intellectual for America. An early dropout from the Clown Car of Republican Presidential Comedians, he thrilled Jon Stewart and other irresponsible so-called journalists.  Your man, Herman, shall rise again, in bedrooms across America.
4. WNAWNM, We Need a War Now Mommy, for those deeply worried about the threat of peace breaking out in the next 4 years. There are deeply, sincerely, pro-life, sitting around pondering the death of Iranians just in time for next Christmas. Instead of saying all you  want is your two front teeth, you wish for dead children in some distant land. You may get your wish, just ask who god told Pat Robertson will be the next president.
   

   Image via Wikipedia

   

   Image via Wikipedia

    

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“Seriously!?” Saturday: “Goooooooooooo Incest!”

“Seriously!?” Saturday: “Goooooooooooo Incest!”.

 

Reposted from a young woman Kimberly Back about a prank in which students were kissed and groped in an odd contest at school