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I don't always know what I'm talking about. I talk out of my ass sometimes. These words escape my lips and then I'll reconsider and wonder why I even said what I said. Have you ever lost your train of thought while in the middle of a sentence? I do it often. Like right now when I just wrote that I thought about the silent 't' in the word, "often". Then within that thought I thought, Dad never could pronounce the word the way it's pronounced. He never ackowledged the silent 't'. That thought was followed with another one: Phonetically, how is that written? How does it look in Webster's Dictionary? (pron. off-en) And then, isn't the pronunciation which includes the hard 't' sound still acceptable in the English language? You see? I just can't help myself. I was designed to go on multi-layered tangents. It seems like an inherited trait from my Dad. We used to have a sort of joke amongst ourselves (immediate family only) that my Dad could start a story, be completely distracted from it, only to finish it off, like, an HOUR later. Seriously. I'm not even kidding about that. So if that were an inherited trait, think of all the other meaningless and benign traits I managed to inherit...yet another tangent. I'm so multi-layered. Sticking out my tongue when working on something hard - I've asked my mom about this and apparently, my grandfather, her Dad, does this too. I've tried to catch myself doing it, but have never really noticed it much. Now that I'm aware, though, I probably will. Holding a mug - Yup, my Dad. He holds a mug in the weirdest way: The thumb gets placed entirely over the lip of the mug while his other fingers grasp the handle. I know. Annoying, isn't it? My Face Says It All - My mom is notorious for wearing what she really thinks about those fishnet stockings and hot-pink pants. You can't escape the look. Ever. Sometimes I wish I weren't so transparent, but I am. I can't even help it. Raised Eyebrow- Dad again. We familials always lovingly called it, "The Fisheye". Dad probably got it from hearing criminals tell tall tales. See that? Alliteration. Changing my tone and manner of speech to match the person I'm talking to - Mom has this uncanny ability to have total strangers trust her within seconds of meeting her. It's all in mom's first impressions. She, without effort, simply adopts their mannerisms, their manner of speaking, and their movements. It isn't calculated, pretentious or insulting. She unconsciously adopts these to make the person she's addressing feel comfortable. Well, those are the only ones I can think of at the moment. I'm sure some other ones will come up as I'm doing ordinary things like sweeping the hallway or washing dishes. Sometimes when doing the menial tasks of the day-to-day my mind is relaxed enough to notice these things. Sets my mind to wandering. Why did I name this post "Courage and Faith..."? Well, before I pounded off a 5-step life affirming entry about human traits that I've inherited, I was really pondering the quote from "A Room With A View". But since I'm a true threader, I took off with the list first. But imagine this, ok? Life made up the two opposing sides: Courage which sets aside fears to achieve or succeed at something you hold dear, and Faith which allows the higher power to maneuvre every aspect of your waking life. The latter, of course, leaves nothing to chance or a turn of fate. No sir. It is either a pre-determined existence or we have the free will to make independent decisions within the confines of what this higher power sets in our path. For the most part, I like the concept that it sometimes takes Courage to have Faith and vice versa. I like that little interweaving of two ideas. But let's just look at this closely in the Mema-verse, since everything is ALWAYS ABOUT ME. Right. In my world, I am faithful to a lot of things. I believe in a higher power. Call it God or Buddha or Shiva or an alien named, Fred. It doesn't matter because this entity in my eyes is incorruptible, omnipotent, and the guardian of all things. I don't always look to my Roman Catholic historical past to get to that conclusion. I look at things that I've personally experienced, seen, or felt to arrive to this conclusion. That being said, I do not believe that this Being is infallible. I'd like to believe that a Creator would have made human beings to be most like him or her. Or both or none, for that matter. Something familiar. Something pleasing. Something fashioned just like themselves. Think about it. Would you want to associate with a bunch of strangers that don't speak or look like you? I don't think so. I sense, or I feel the presence of something greater than I am all the time. Something inside of me knows it's there. Something also knows that something else had to have made me. Something limits my memory until I'm old enough to understand them. How come no one can remember birth canal trips and baby-crib mobiles? We aren't meant to understand those experiences of infant life, so we just learn, absorb and grow until we can actually remember. Do this as an experiment: trace your life as far back as you can go. You'll scarcely be able to remember your life before the age of say, two. Even though the most impressionable years occur before then, they're not enough to retain in your memory because these are shared conscious experiences. Everyone was burped as a baby, fed, bathed. At least children who were cared for properly. So those "experiences" get removed from memory because, hell. Do you really want to maintain a record of all that baby crap? Exactly. Now for the courage. I had to inherit the courage to say what I needed to say when I needed to say it. This one is often a learned response. If we receive negative stimuli from an early age, we feel less inclined to bravery. If we receive positive feedback early in our stages of development, we feel more confident about expressing ourselves. Take little Mema. I gained courage as I stumbled on the road of life. There were times I wanted to throw in the towel for various problems and life-affecting issues. Some I overcame and some I didn't. One can be faithful without being courageous. But can one be satisfied to the fullest extent of what life has to offer? I don't think so. At least not in America. Without courage, we wimp out and suffer for our own inability to come out with the truthfulness of our lives. If we aren't truthful with ourselves, then how fulfilled can we truly be? I don't know about you, but if I am on my way to the Pearly Gates, I don't want to show my face unless one or two or both of these ideals are met. I hope that when I'm being judged, I'm good enough to meet the necessary requirements. Guess all I need is in that one line: "Courage and Faith, Miss Honeychurch. Courage and Faith."

Bayonne vs. Jersey City: Part Deux: Announcer - Welcome back, folks. Boy are you missing a heck of a fight between Bayonne and Jersey--whoa! And another right hook by "The Brawler"...looks like JC better dance for his life 'cause Bayonne's packing a wallop! But what's this? Looks like both men are just holding in the ring. This match was originally scheduled for 9 rounds, but it looks as though both men are tired and there's still no real winner. Let's turn to longtime boxer, Rocky Montana, with his official scorecard tally...take it away... Rocky - This was a battle that was in the making ever since these two towns were born. I'm telling ya that there is nothing like skin on skin to see who will win! Announcer - That's right, Rocky. Now, Rock, how are you judging this match? Rocky - Well, it's a hard thing to judge because both men are determined to win. Announcer (interrupting) - Of course-- Rocky - I'd say that right now, I show the fight as 110 and 110 an even fight. Both men are exhibiting heart, skill, speed and raw drive. Anyone watching could see that everytime that JC throws a punch, it is quickly answered by Bayonne. But it's no secret that both of these men are professionals and it's looking--at least to me--to be a strong tie. Announcer - Did you hear that folks? I can't believe it! What started as a war of worlds, appears to have become a war of words! Let's get a mike in the ring... Bayonne - Brother, you don't know how long I've held my tongue... Jersey City - Can you give the people what they want? Huh? Bayonne - What have you got to boast? Your nasty town is littered and filthy. Jersey City - ...And yours is full of white collar crime and political corruption... Bayonne - That's not what your momma told me last night. Jersey City - Well at least my mom cleaned up after herself. That's more than I can say for your mom... Bayonne - Hey, oh! You don't know her like dat...sorry, ma. Jersey City - Did you hear him momma Bayonne? Your son finally admitted that he's "sorry". It's about time. Announcer - The referree has been speaking to the ringside judges and he's getting ready to make an announcement...let's listen... Referree - Ladies and gentlemen, this fight is a DRAW! *The crowd boos* Announcer - Well, there you have it. The crowd is none too happy. It seems that this issue won't be resolved today. Apparently both towns have shown that they can withstand the trial: they came, they saw, they both came out even-steven. Thanks for watching...Good Night.

The Battle for a state of Independence...

Bayonne vs. Jersey City: Annoncer - Welcome everyone to the battle for the title of King of the Garden State. Well this post has been a long time coming. A resident of the latter and now writing to you from the former, it is going to be a rough and tumble fight for the right to Paaaarrrtttaaayyyyyy!!!! *ding, ding* Announcer - In this corner, wearing red trunks and weighing in at an astounding 225 pounds: the home of The Brawler, the Captain of the Cons, the Maven of the Mafia...Bayonne, NEW JERSEY!!!!!!!!! *crowd cheers* Announcer - And in this corner, the underdog in this fight, sporting the blue trunks and weighing in at just over 170 pounds soaking-wet: the Streetwise Soprano, the Deadly Dukes of Danger, a trip down Nathan Lane's memory...Jersey City, NEW JERSEY!!!!!!!! *crowd cheers again* *ding, ding* Now, everyone give a Jersey welcome (hold your spit, please) to Referree, Skip Stone!!!! *everyone boos* Skip - Now, I want a good clean fight. Any excessive holding or hitting below the belt is cause for disqualification. I want you to heed my instructions at all times. Gentleman, tap gloves and good luck! *Bayonne & JC tap politely* *ding, ding, ding* Announcer - Two heavyweights in the tough inner-city, I'll tell ya. It's important to note that these two towns are like brothers from two different mothers. Close in proximity but--oh, nelly!--are they different in their ways of life! What better day than today, while the nation celebrates their Independence than to brawl for it all? Now it's been said that Jersey City is the bastard child and that Bayonne is full of itself, but only one champion will come out alive. Who will win? Who will suffer defeat and cry all the way home to mother?! Let's watch...

*ding, ding*

Announcer - And it begins, folks...Why just the other day I was speaking to JC and here's what he said about this fight...

*clip begins*

Announcer (interviewing) - You and your brother have always had a friendly war of words for years. Why take the sibling rivalry so far?

JC - Because I always felt like I was my brother's keeper. I don't feel dat way no more. All our lives, we had disagreements about manners and such. But etiquette was never my forte. Normally, I got into the ring and did my thing, y'know what I mean? Now, it's like I gotta teach my kid brutha a lesson...one he'll never forget.

Announcer - So what was it about Independence Day? JC - I don't mean to brag, but I always felt that it was betta to burn fireworks on the 4th of July than to get drunk at a barbecue. It's just like my brutha ta misunderstan' da nature o' the day, y'know? *end of clip* Announcer - There you have it, folks. A bitter feud that maybe started in utero. But I also had the opportunity to speak to Bayonne, who oddly enough didn't have much to say... *clip begins* Announcer - Your brother had a lot to say about this fight. Is there anything that you would like to tell him? Bayonne - No. Announcer - JC said that he felt as though he were, and I quote: "my brother's keeper". Do you have anything to say about that? Bayonne (looking annoyed) - No. Announcer - Is there anything you would like to say to the public now that you've agreed to meet your brother this July 4th in the "Battle for Independence"? *Bayonne pauses* *silence* Announcer - ...A man of few words. Bayonne (shooting up in his chair) - I don't need no words. I'm all action. See ya in da ring, bro. *clip ends* Announcer - And it looks as though our fighters are ready to duke it out and settle the score. Bayonne has been cocky all week, snubbing all reporters and avoiding any type of publicity while Jersey City has made it on every sport's cover all month long. It's time to find out whether it was all worth it. Oh, both fighters appear to be dancing around the ring but it's Bayonne who throws the first punch...a light right jab and...oh, what a quick left by JC, but Bayonne is stable. JC is a fighter who's light on his feet and has been known to dance around his opponents before...oh! Another left hook from JC but Bayonne isn't shaken. He appears to be determined to ruin his brother and...what's this? The post has grown long?! Well, folks. Find out next time who comes out with fists blazing. They're about to pull the--

THE artiFACTS of LIFE:

Sometimes, when you're rummaging through your old drawers and memory boxes, you come across the stupidest things that are on the one hand are completely ridiculous, but on the other, they're so much fun. Being the Queen of nostalgia, I seldom like to throw little notes and gems like the example you see to my left here...

Yes, this one was created in high school when me and an old art buddy drudged up a sheet of white copy paper and had at the principal. The more we stared at the artist's rendition, the more creative we got, which seems odd since we weren't really all that creative in class. So it goes to show you that talent and ingenuity are truly the siblings of boredom which seems to have been (judging from the other little things I found) a lot.

There's just something to be said about keeping memories. The more that time lags on, it seems that events get lost; recalled only when you least expect it. Perhaps there is an old view that constantly gets tossed around and becomes the subject of many a debate in later years, like say, who won a race or who did what during a sport tournament. When you save a souvenir, you encapsulize that moment forever. If you're lucky, it can spin itself into a tradition that can linger way longer than the actual memory. It can morph into "legend" status; the stuff that is discussed and remininsced about long after you've gone. That's what endures and that's what's so great about history. Think I'm wrong? Well, don't people still celebrate The Civil War by dressing up in Union and Confederate regalia to host mock reenactments? Of course they do. Collectors love this stuff because it gives them an opportunity to put a price tag on something that would have normally gone the way of the Dodo, the forgotten annals of societies that pre-date history and into extinction. People love the stuff because it helps them take pride in their pasts marveling at how far we've come while dismissing other advancements.

If you've ever said any of the following, then I'm sorry to say, you are a nostalgist (like me~yea!):

• "They just don't make 'em like they used to."
• "They used to be cheaper."
• "I remember when..."
• "Doctors used to make house calls."
• "When I was your age..."

These are just a few that I could think of off the top of my head. So go ahead and rummage through your attics, raid your storage spaces, and look through your yearbooks. I'm sure that you can find a few surprises in there that will put a smile on your face or make you laugh out loud ~ in spite of yourself. Eh, Tootie?

Okay, do you wanna know the strangest dream I had? A while ago, I was doing this experimental Freudian thing where I would jot down a dream I'd just had using a scratch-pad beside my bed. Freud believed that dreams were best captured when they were the most vivid so the idea was to desribe the dream immediately after I'd awaken from it, before it dissipated into some subconscious part of the brain where all unmemorable dreams go and cannot be retrieved. Well, I had a dream a long time ago and scrawled it on three slips of white paper in the dark. I've just re-discovered it while I was cleaning my room and voila! The Strangest Dream. Here's what I wrote: "It's been mine since I was a lad," the Adventurer tells me, while opening a very small crawlspace in the desert. 'How'd you find that,' I think but a voiceover tells me that he's known this place all his life. The Adventurer grew up there. There's water and a plug to open. Suddenly, there's a studio audience and a dance floor and Tom Cruise with a turkey up his ass is there. There's a nice man whom I meet amid the crowd surrounding Cruise. Everyone seems to be chanting, "He's gay! He's gay!" at Cruise and I'm embarrassed for him. The nice man I met now begins to dance with me only the dance floor is more like a gymnasium now. We're dancing really well and just then, we're gonna go through a tunnel--" That's it. I really like the Tom Cruise turkey scenario. Very entertaining. But I have no idea what any of this means. Was the Freudian experiment successful or should I stop finding stupid slips of paper in my room? You decide.

Today's Topic is TRUST: (Also See "Abuse of") Ok, kiddies, it's time to open your books to page 101, because everyone could use a little insight these days when it comes to the "T" word. Is T**st a Curseword?: No. However, people and their manipulative ways can't seem to gather up the good these days. Usually the world-wide skepticism has a lot to do with being burned. Take it from the "Burn Queen" (hi! that's me!), it is a place that hits way too close to home. But the optimist in me just can't seem to get away from believing that there still is enough good out there to wipe out the grossness of this world and kill 'em all with kindness. But what do you do when you feel that you've been betrayed by say, a restaurant? I mean, it's not a person that you can zero in on and wish horrible things to. Nope, it's this intangible thing. This entity if you will. What to do then? I'm A Hypocrite: I'm the first to speak to people about standing up for themselves. But for some reason, when it comes to me, I get all loosey-goosey. I don't want to make waves or cause a fuss or draw any attention. So, I get screwed. This time it had to do with an establishment that I've been going to since the dawn of time. Any local yokel knows exactly the place I'm speaking of because of it's generally good-naturedness and overall Cheers-like attitude: remember, everybody knows your name? Well, this place has seen its share of woe and legal troubles but has always gotten the community vote thanks to some local politicians and well-to-do customers. I used to love going there because hey, it felt like family. Well, I should've known that no one can screw you over better than family. No one. So I went to have a simple sandwich. If you must know, it was a turkey club. Sometimes I get all nostagic for the old classics and it began as a hunger, then a hankering, then a "I-must-have-it-or die!" lunchtime obsession that I'm prone to every now and again. So I moseyed (sp?) on down there and lo and behold, the whole gang was there as before. Oh sure, the place is physically the same, but the faces are more painted than I remember and the hair's new and improved. Whatever, I just wanted my sandwich. I was greeted with a "Hello, Mema! Long time no see..." attitude which sometimes makes me feel like the celebrity I wish I was. Ah, Ms. Lohan, lemme show you to the best seat in the house... The one waitress even hands me a copy of the New York Post to read while I waited. Nice touch. Within a few short miraculous minutes, I was once again eating what I love. I relished in the taste that reminded me of lunches at college when all I could afford was the cheapest things in life. Yeah, cheap. But just as I finished the last remaining morsels, the waitress conveniently slipped the check underneath my plate. It was, as usual, a flawless performance -- so subtle a move as could be missed. But when I turned the slip of paper over, I couldn't help but notice the unbelievable price of what I'd just eaten: $8! Now, I know that somewhere this amount is not a staggering blow. Someplace where the turkey is home-grown and bred just to be the Thanksgiving feast or the prized upscale meal at a decadent eatery in Midtown. I could expect the price of such delectable meals. You get what you pay for, after all. But if you saw this meager portion of a sandwich which had all of the telltale signs of a fast-food meal, you'd understand my complete discontent. Then, I realized what I was really paying for. A few years back, I was a regular customer. I was probably a lot more self-absorbed and eager to spread my earnings, proud to be an American girl who could eat meals all by herself alone in a restaurant. I was single. I was young. Money was simpler and I was just happy to spend whatever I made on all sorts of frivolous things like nailpolish and various shades of lipstick. But a few years afterwards, I fell out of favor with the waitresses because they'd stop seeing me as frequently. Then there was an unfortunate incident involving my new boyfriend and his dissatisfaction with platter which *gasp* they were asked to take back and re-do. Now in all the years I'd gone there, I barely muttered any unpleasant words and never challenged them when they got my order wrong or came with a plate of food that was not so hot. I'd been taught not to behave "rudely" which meant keeping my mouth shut even when I was unhappy about service or displeased with attitudes. I accepted and even sprinkled a little sugar on it to make it sweet, even when it wasn't. Then. here comes Carlos in all his wonderful brutal honesty. He taught me that you don't have to always reach for what you're given. You can return it and complain and the customer is always right...even at the risk of having people spit in your food. So I believe with all my being that this one instance was the turning point, because since then, I don't like going to that restaurant. Not only have the prices changed, but the overall mood just isn't the way it used to be. Or, maybe it is still the way it used to be and I just never noticed it before. Trust Your Instincts: It is a tired cliche, but people do change and I've learned that my instincts could never steer me wrong. That's why I wrote this post. I think that if you listen to that little voice inside, you can't go wrong. Don't just eat it, serve it back...with relish.