Team Jacob

I did not watch the 2013 Miss America pageant.  I happened to pass it on t.v. for a few minutes while channel surfing, however, it was not long enough to take in all the contestants.  So when I first heard an Indian-American won, I (sarcastically) wondered if the winner was Native American or actually Indian-American.  Turns out in this instance, she was actually of Indian (roots from the country India) descent.  Cheers to Nina Davuluri!

What does that have to do with the price of tea in France? You ask.  Well, all too often, I read or hear someone refer to an Indian or Indian-American when the person referred to is of Native American heritage.  When I attempt to recommend a change in the reference, I have been told, well "you know what I'm talking about."  No, actually, I don't.  I don't know.  If I hear Indian, I think of India.  Is there two Indias?  Why are we still perpetrating Christopher Columbus's mistake by using Indian to describe people who's heritage is native to America?  And I recognize that many Native American created websites, articles, books, and what not also use the Indian reference.  I am not saying the use is somehow insulting, in and of itself, but it seems archaic.

As for me, when referencing part of my heritage, I prefer Native American.

Tears Always Win

Agape deep love

Tugging at my heart

Filling up my mind

Because we are apart

Close in distance 

Distant in life

Something changed

Now pain and strife 

Agape deep love 

Pushing it away 

Wall of shallow

With each new day

Talking to the Moon

The Best Option I Don't Have

Quiet
Reserved
Understated
and Kind

A laugh that makes you smile
A smile that warms your heart
A heart that reflects love
A love that is

A Man's Requirements

I have had a few blog post ideas over the past couple of weeks.  However, when I go to write them, it just doesn't seem like what needs to be shared at the time.  So in lieu of an original piece from me, I am sharing a poem from one of my favorite poets, Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Enjoy!

A Man's Requirements

I

Love me Sweet, with all thou art,
Feeling, thinking, seeing;
Love me in the lightest part,
Love me in full being.

II

Love me with thine open youth
In its frank surrender;
With the vowing of thy mouth,
With its silence tender.

III

Love me with thine azure eyes,
Made for earnest grantings;
Taking colour from the skies,
Can Heaven's truth be wanting?

IV

Love me with their lids, that fall
Snow-like at first meeting;
Love me with thine heart, that all
Neighbours then see beating.

V

Love me with thine hand stretched out
Freely -- open-minded:
Love me with thy loitering foot, --
Hearing one behind it.

VI

Love me with thy voice, that turns
Sudden faint above me;
Love me with thy blush that burns
When I murmur 'Love me!'

VII

Love me with thy thinking soul,
Break it to love-sighing;
Love me with thy thoughts that roll
On through living -- dying.

VIII

Love me in thy gorgeous airs,
When the world has crowned thee;
Love me, kneeling at thy prayers,
With the angels round thee.

IX

Love me pure, as muses do,
Up the woodlands shady:
Love me gaily, fast and true,
As a winsome lady.

X

Through all hopes that keep us brave,
Farther off or nigher,
Love me for the house and grave,
And for something higher.

XI

Thus, if thou wilt prove me, Dear,
Woman's love no fable,
I will love thee -- half a year --
As a man is able. 

Elizabeth Barrett Browning