Doreen Michele

My maiden name is Irish in origin and I realized in recent months at the age of sixty that my Irish heritage was in some sense treated more secretly than my Cherokee heritage. My mother was a German immigrant who grew up in Germany during World War II and its aftermath. My father spent 18.5 years of his 26.5 years of military service overseas, possibly in part because it was easier for him to be White passing as a foreigner. I was molested as a child. I grew up in a family haunted by "dirty secrets" many of which were dirt from other people, from a larger context, from a racist society and from a world unable to heal up in the face of wars and other large scale problems individuals typically don't know how to adequately navigate. We fight over an offense we did not give against those who were not alive to be offended. While poor, I sometimes experienced abusive behavior from Black Americans thrilled to take their anger out on a White woman they thought was beref...

Grandfathered in is a phrase from the ugly post-Civil War Jim Crow era in the Deep South that refers to efforts to legally protect the rights of White people while denying newly freed Blacks voting rights.  They passed a law saying illiterate people couldn't vote knowing most newly freed slaves were illiterate because it had been illegal for slaves to learn to read. They then added a clause saying "You can still vote even if you are illiterate if your grandfather could vote." This meant dirt poor illiterate White people were likely to qualify for the right to vote but no newly freed slaves would pass this test granting an exception for illiterate Whites. Their grandfathers were likely slaves (or rapey White slave owners not admitting to being the father, but that detail is something newly freed slaves were unlikely to argue in a court of law at that time). That's from a piece called Rotten to the Core on Eclogiselle and you may wish to read it because it says more...

I have achieved my lifelong dream of being FREE to open my big fat mouth in public and speak my mind as I see fit without consequence though I'm sometimes perceived as rude, crude and socially unacceptable and I'm generally too truthful to be good. All you have to do is leave all social media, have no traffic, no engagement and no audience and THEN you can say ANYTHING you want! You have no idea how hard I have worked for years and years to reach this glorious plateau. Wow, what rarified air!

Michael Stipe, lead singer for R.E.M., has said the song is not about religion. The phrase is a Southern expression and I think it's probably more or less a polite euphemism for losing my shit. Since writing that piece, it has occurred to me it probably also means forgetting my manners . The Deep South is very religious and famously polite as Ugly Americans go and religion and manners are seen as related in the Deep South. So I think one meaning for the phrase is getting so upset with someone you fail to be polite and respectful as is generally expected from people where I come from. You drop your Sunday Best behavior and go off on someone.

I wrote a post called Dagu Dagu Dagu . Dagu is a word from some African language and probably the best English explanation is "spreading news by word of mouth." You might translate it as "the grapevine." I don't even know which African language it's from. I just know trivia about language sticks with me, so I'm a wealth of knowledge about language, yet wholly incapable of speaking anything fluently, often English included. I'm medically handicapped and sometimes just sound like a blithering idiot. If I'm physically stressed out enough, I lapse into German -- though my German is TERRIBLE -- and I sometimes CAN'T speak English for an hour or so. I've made a few stabs at talking about my relationship to language learning and recently tried to make a compendium of that here . I'm going to try again to give people some idea of how I'm a sponge for language stuff yet I'm not fluent in anything, probably not even English. I grew up i...

Social encounter moments ago: "Where are your brothers?" A little back and forth. She guesses they are twenty or twenty five and tells me I look thirty. I tell her they are in their thirties, I'm SIXTY and they are my sons. Seemingly genuine shock ensues.

As noted elsewhere , Arnold Schwarzenegger is kind of an animus figure for me. He's a symbol of my career self  Maybe two or three days ago on March 9th or 10th, I had some variation of this Terminator 2 scene in my head where he's basically going "Give me your clothes."  And I think that's like my future career self demanding my clothing line ideas from my skank ass ugly homeless self. I'm not putting this here for "you," whomever the hell you may be. I effectively have no audience. This is a note for ME and it's probably stupid because our idiot POTUS is about to start World War III, probably for incredibly stupid reasons like McDonald's got his order wrong. So none of us has a future. Thanks, moron!