MEMORANDUMTO: All Black Parents

SUBJECT: Re: Naming your children
DATE: Effective Immediately

Please don't start naming your children after President-elect Barack Obama…

Obamaneshia, Obamalaya, Obamaria, Barakesha, Barakyah, Barakakhan, etc.


Give your children a chance to grow-up without being burdened by a ridiculous sounding name.

what was the up-shot of the elections here in DC...?

i am glad that we have made it to the "black-man-in-the-white-house" phase... i am glad that everyone here can feel "liberated" from all of the heartache that they have endured in their 20-30 years... that they can now, and never before, "feel like they can honestly do anything."

i am also glad that they are telling each other things like, "now we can know what it's like to sit at the front of the bus." or things like, "they should have picked their own damn cotton..."

i really am happy for that...


Obama Win Causes Obsessive Supporters To Realize How Empty Their Lives Are

even though i have been in the middle of a few awkward "hey- we are all getting back at your white ancestors" conversations that make me feel like crawling into a ball, i do think that the excitement for this country is good. the 250, 000 copies of the washington post that were distributed on the 5th were gone by 10am... people waited for hours later that day to get a copy of a special edition, and many didn't get one still(including, yours truly)...people piled up in the streets on that tuesday night to sing and laugh and enjoy being an american.

yes, he wasn't my choice either, yes, i am not sure where this country is headed, but i think that comes with the times and not the leader at this point.

done and done. now lets all just move on!

lations, obama. it really is a big feat. now put those vague words to action...

a happy thought- giveaway!!

you need something to smile about....i know how it goes...


here: a free giveaway.

put this here button on your blog and pass it along!

yeah- that's the cutest home-made apron you've ever seen....
you were thinking correctly...

and i know you are thinking: meg- you are in the capital?!
aren't you going to tell us how the election riots went down and how you are now a near outcast because you are a white girl in a black man's world...?

yes, reader. chill dawg.

sorting through the state of the U.S. is not going to be easy...

oh- and can you vote again for me? --->
i just need to know for validation's sake...

a foto essay: my usual route to my unusually unusual day.

the beginning...

love the leaves... wish they wouldn't dry when you try and save them...

my school...

love this...

how unfortunate...

a cute girl makes this stuff and sells it... i bought some earrings myself..
though not with obama on them...

virginia's fall foliage = awesome.
virginians + first black president = possible crazies.
duke ellington + black president = assembly, fun jewelry,
and a whole lot of emotional people.

...should be a great day today...

I am Hilary Roddam

Hilary, I can sympathize with you. There was a point in time when I could see what was happening and knew I could reverse it too. Way to pull out the weapon of women.

A story:

When I was at the end of 4th grade, I thought I would run for student council. I had some issues with the way we as a school had dealt with the other weaker schools and I thought that I knew how to stop all of those unwanted people from leaking into our school. And I was quite sure that I really did have the connections to get the chocolate milk to come out of the water fountains.

D-Day arrived and I had prepared the political speech of a lifetime. (Ok, truth be told, my mom made up most of it, and I thought it was kinda lame, but it was all I had.) That morning, I had spoken with my campaign manager and understood what was left in the budget: we were down to the very last of it-- it was now or never. I was to speak in front of those with the most political pull in the school: the 4-6th graders... all of them... at once.

I left the speech (it was more like an extremely cheesy song) in my desk in Mrs. Conrad's portable room. I knew I could do it without help. I sat patiently as the "Egg-ceptional" Udall kid went, and then the popcorn chick (covered in kernels larger than car tires) and the Mary Engelbreit chick... I did get squirmy when the "Got Jordan" speech went.... that one is so catchy. And new.

I walked up to the stage and my shaking hands pulled the mic down two feet. Then I looked to good ole' principal Dan Young on the right side of the stage, and then to my left where PE teacher Rocky Pool smiled back. Both good friends of mine- friends on the inside.

I opened my mouth and the dreadful first line of that poor car-commercial-like jingle came out of me. Then I froze. I don't know if I subconsciously wanted to forget the bad lyrics, or if I really did at this point, but I did. I looked to Pool who returned a reassuring look... but nothin.

After what felt like about a half an hour of staring into the faces of those much older and wiser, a sound came from the very back wall. It was my mom. She had shouted the next line of the song so all could hear. No way. I can't believe it. I felt red all over, something that doesn't happen to me all that often. I ran down the stairs and out the door of the auditorium of stunned children and parents and teachers and out the door to the front of the school and hid.

Over the next few days, my fellow schoolmates let me know how they felt. Most replied, "we voted for you because we felt bad for you." I get it. And I am ok with sympathy.

I won. I think it was the sympathy and not my ideas on foreign policy that they loved. A kid in my neighborhood caught me in the hallway and snidely remarked, "you only won because you cried," (I beat him) "next year, all I have to do is cry and I'll win." With my new confidence I said, yeah- too bad you didn't think of that, huh!

So Hilary... I get you. I just hope the men do. But I don't think they do... or will.