the noble peace prize

So my best friend was back from ISU for the weekend so of course we hung out. Seeing someone you haven’t seen in a while is always a bit awkward at first, so whenever there was a lull in the conversation, I would try to make small talk. Now my friend and I have very different political views, but we’ve always been very good at listening to each other present their case.

During one of these convo pauses on the way back to my house, I casually said, “So did you hear that Obama won the Nobel Peace Prize?”

And he responded with, “Yeah, he shouldn’t have accepted it.”

This confused me. His problem was not with the fact that he had been nominated, or that he had been voted the winner, but whether he accepts it. To me, that seems ridiculous. I agree, he shouldn't have been nominated two weeks after being elected, I feel it was way too soon, but I just want to know, how is a person not going to accept the fucking nobel peace prize? To me, that’s rude. Isn’t it like a gold medal? How are you going to turn that shit down? And if you do turn down the NPP, what happens to it? Do they give it to the next guy? How much would that suck to be the guy who won by default.

But the problem I have most with this whole thing is that no one is blaming the committee, the people who nominated him. Obama is being blamed for their mistake. I could care less what he does with it, I just find it messed up that he’s blamed for it.This is just going to be another thing those crazy right-wings use against Obama.

I explained this to my friend to which he responded with, “Yeah, well Obama hasn’t kept all his promises. He said he was going to put all the legislative bills online.”

I don’t know enough about the promise to put legislative bills online, so I asked him which ones he hasn’t put up, because I know I’ve seen the newest Carbon Bill and Health Care Bill up.

Avoiding the question, he then asks me if I know enough to be defending Obama.

Better question, Do you know enough to be criticizing him, because by the sounds of it, you have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about. If you want to argue about politics, I suggest looking further than Beck and Rush for your news.

peace

holding door=scholarship

So the past two days of my life have been, in one word, hell. And yes, that was a stab at that idiot who talked tonight. Just a small warning, this post is going to be very bitter and very mean, so if you don’t like to be around people who think negatively, please don’t read this.

I just spent my last two days at NCYL--National Council for Youth Leadership. I’m almost certain that all of us who went have the same impression of the thing--what a load of crap. When I first heard about this, I wasn’t excited, not really anyway. I mean yeah, I like trying new things, I generally thrive in new environments, but it just seemed like another something to put on my college apps.

Don’t get me wrong, I am very appreciative for the chance to go, I feel very lucky, and under different circumstances, I might have had a really good experience. But there’s just one thing standing in the way of that, the fact that people will do anything if they get a reward. I really can’t stand opportunists.

Let me set this up for you. Imagine 200ish people, I’m sure all very talented, vying for the chance at approximately 20 scholarships. The recipients must be picked in two days, in which time you must impress the judges with your spectacular, spectacular leadership abilities. God, please shoot me.

It was sickening how nice people were. There was always someone holding the door, always someone introducing themselves to you, always someone trying to lead your group. Why would one complain about such kindness, you ask? Isn’t this how we want our society to be, cooperative, communal, hospitable? Yeah, sure, normally I’d be preaching that doctrine along with all the other hippies, if only it were real. I have a very hard time believing that these people act like this everyday. I believe only one person I didn’t know has ever held the door open for me during my years at Kennedy. I don’t think I have ever seen someone introduce themselves to the new kid unless instructed to do so, and I have never once seen a student get up during an assembly and start the wave. You all lie, all of you. But hey, you get some money, so go for it.

This conference really made me want to not be a nice person. I normally would hold the door open for people, it’s a habit. But after I noticed what was going on, I refused. There was always the same kid holding the door, I swear, he must have sprinted to get to it first. I sincerely wanted to go around and smack people across the face, stomp on their feet, and trip them down the steps, just to get some real emotion going. And why did all these people act so fake, so overly happy, so friendly? Because they could win a $100 scholarship. I’m sorry, but it’s not worth it, you can’t by my dignity with $100. Make it in the thousands, perhaps, but I’m not gonna kiss your ass to make a Benjamin.

For me, it’s not even about the money. This whole thing made me realize something. Maybe that’s all life is. Maybe this conference prepared us for the real world. Maybe what we were supposed to learn is that if you want to make bank, you have to be fake. As long as you act like a kind person, you don’t actually have to be one. You don’t have to believe in what you do, you just have to be a good enough actor to make it seem like you do. I’m not okay with that, though. I live off of inspirational quotes that tell me that those who care are the ones who make the most difference. That’s what I want to be, someone who cares because they care, not because they might win some money. Utopian, right?

peace

p.s. Not sure how many of you noticed, but who was holding the door when we left tonight? No one. Huh.

keep looking

I was catching up on my Coates and had to link to this post. One thing I've noticed and loved about Obama is he's not like other black leaders. He's more subtle and refined, not screaming in the streets and pushing race on you. He brings the issue up without actions or words, merely by being president and being black. And now with all the nation focussed on race, there's never been a better time for us to have a calm, ordinary representative. You can't fight normal.

"Barack Obama refuses to be their nigger. And it's driving them crazy."

-Coates

read it

peace

liar liar pants on fire

So I’m not sure how many of you watched Obama’s speech last night on health care, but for those of you who did, how much did you love South Carolina Republican, Joe Wilson heckling. Yelling, “You lie” in the middle of his speech? Really? What is with these SC republicans. Might as well just stand up and start chanting “Scoreboard, Scoreboard!” Oh wait, that’s right, Democrats have majority don’t they. Sucks doesn’t it, especially since his Democratic challenger for the 2012 election is now running on the campaign slogan "Defeating the man who yelled liar at Obama" If you missed it, or just want to reminisce..

peace

that crazy socialist does it again

When I first heard about Obama’s speech on education addressed to students, I thought it was a very cool idea. Think about it, how many important people actually focus on children. Very few times are people under the voting age shown any direct attention. It’s true, education is a big topic in politics, but the whole approach is very impersonal. The fact that the potus takes time to speak to them is somewhat of a novel idea.

So when I found out that, once again, the right wings were crying socialism, I was not only confused but a little upset. I fail to see how the nobel act of encouraging the children of America makes Obama into Mao. Then I heard that our fellow Cedar Rapids high school, Linn-Mar, was banning the speech. A school banning a speech from our president on the importance of education?! Someone please tell me how that makes any sense at all. The school informs parents that if they want their kids to hear this asinine speech, they must do so on their own time. Fail for Linn-Mar.

So when my third hour teacher stopped class and turned on the TV at 11:00, I couldn't help but feel a little proud that I was given the opportunity to watch this, that our principal and teachers thought this speech so important. And when the bell neglected to ring at 11:00 according to the normal schedule, my pride in this school only grew to know that I wasn’t the only one to recognize the significance of this speech.

However I grew a bit uncertain about the quality of the speech when Obama began talking about J.K. Rowling. Was he not taking this serious? But then I noticed something, kind of like a reoccurring theme in his speech. He had developed it for his target audience. He had added Harry Potter and Michael Jordan references not because he wasn’t taking this seriously, but because he was speaking to the children of America for a change, he had personalized it. Obama is a person who finally recognizes that children are truly important to the future of America, and especially his if he plans to run for re-election. It’s really quite ingenious campaigning considering we are the people who will decided if he deserves a second term.

Although I agree with this idea of addressing the schools, I wonder how beneficial it will prove. I couldn’t help feeling like I was being lectured by a parent on the importance of school. And I wonder how many of the people who actually needed to hear this stuff really listened. Regardless of results, one must appreciate the initiative.

peace

I got a dollar

My brother’s birthday is tomorrow. He’ll be five. My grandparents always send us cards on our birthdays since they live somewhat far away. They always give us money too, because, well, it’s our birthday.

When my brother’s card arrived today, my little sister, who gets excited whether the excitement belongs to her or not, begged my mother to let him open it a day early. She agreed. My brother tore off the envelope ripping it to shreds, the sloppy way little kids do, and pulled out the card and opened it. Caught by gravity, the twenty fell to the floor. My little sister, excited as always, picked up the bill and ran over to me, brandishing the green paper, screaming with joy. Well, my little brother was not going to just let her jack his money like that, so he comes over and takes it from her, equally, if not more, excited than she.

It made me wonder, when do we understand the value of money. My little sister and brother obviously knew that this small piece of paper had importance, but how, and do they really understand it? And if they do understand it, is that not just the tiniest bit sad to watch a small child become so enthused about the acquisition of money? There’s generally two views on monetary value. One is I want it, all of it, any of it I can get. The other view being more of a minimalist perspective; I just need enough to get by. One could argue which view a child should have, but I think as a society, we have all agreed that money isn’t everything, or at least shouldn’t be. Wether or not we act on this belief differs largely. But if we all want the best for our children, should we not then want them to be happy? Should we not be teaching them that happiness isn’t measured in possessions, wealth, or dollars? That if you always want more, you’ll never appreciate what you already have? That love makes you happy, and all those other cliches. I know this may be a big assumption, but you’d be hard pressed to find someone who doesn’t agree with those beliefs, or at least want to believe them. So the question then becomes how do we instill these values into our children. How do we teach them that the value of a dollar is really no value at all?

peace

a little thought

For me, there is never enough time. I’m sure we all feel this way, that there is never enough time in the day. We don’t have time to sleep, time to relax, time to socialize. But it goes deeper than that, doesn’t it? There is never enough time to write all the stories you wish to pen, to draw all the images you wish to create, to photograph all the sights you wish to capture, to view all the films you want to see, to say all the words you want to speak, to listen to all the ideas there are to hear, to dream all the fantasies you wish to dream, to do all the things you want to do. In short there is simply not enough time to enjoy all the life you wish to live. And I tell myself that I’m young, that I’ll have plenty of time to do all of these things. But the thing is, I don’t quite believe that. I don’t think that I’ll come to a time, years down the road when I say to myself, I’m done. I’ve done all the things I’ve wanted to do, there’s nothing more life can give me. But perhaps that’s why we fear death so much. Not simply because it’s the end of life, but because we never finish all that we wanted to do. Because we just didn’t get enough time. Who knows.

peace

Really?

Saw this on Coates blog, I was almost positive this was an Onion production. Sadly, I was wrong.`

peace

Beware of Dog

I came across this article today about this dog mauling a toddler. Any decent human being would find this sad, no child should have to experience not only the pain but the scars left behind. In the article the mother said this,

"Because I feel like the least I can do for (my) daughter is give her a bit of justice," Ms Jobe said.

She's going to have scars for life. The least I can do is take away that dog's life.”

This is often the argument parents give for wanting the death of an animal who has harmed their children. But I don’t really think it makes sense. Perhaps if she had said so the dog didn’t harm someone else, so someone else didn’t have to go through this ordeal, I would be okay with it, that seems like a reasonable statement. But that’s not what she said. She wants to kill the dog because it hurt her daughter. Now while I can understand where she’s coming from, I don’t quite agree with it. How does killing the dog bring justice to her daughter? How does it makes up for her accident?

It’s the same concept used in our justice system. The family of the victims murdered put their loved ones assailants on trial, hoping for the death penalty because they believe that somehow, this will bring them justice. But someone, please tell me how that works. How does taking the life of another make any difference? I don’t buy the whole piece of mind shit. Revenge never gets you anywhere, it only makes you just as bad as your enemy.

"An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind."

-Ghandi

Maybe I'm just being insensitive. Any thoughts?

peace

Down with Schmulver's

Note: Some names have been changed in order to protect the privacy and integrity of the places featured in this post/ my job.

So after four years of working at Schmulver’s, I have finally been promoted. I’m unsure of how to take this news. It’s true I did finally build up the courage to ask for this promotion, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I’m happy about it. I mean yeah, I did get a raise and I now get free food, which isn’t that big of a deal because I can’t remember the last time I actually paid for my food there, and let me tell you, I have eaten my share of their merchandise. I suppose now I’ll get to boss people around and putting manager on a college application will look nice. But let’s look at the cons here shall we. I’ll now be responsible for the shit that goes wrong in the store, meaning I’ll start getting blamed for mess ups that aren’t even my fault.I’ll have to work till almost eleven on school nights, and with my class schedule I’ll get like no sleep. But hey, I ain’t no punk bitch, so I figure I’ll be fine.

But as I stood in the employee bathroom, buttoning up my oversized blue manager shirt, I began wondering if this was selling out. The moment I agreed to the position of manager, I basically sold my soul to the devil. I can no longer talk back to my GM, I am her slave and must listen to her because that is what managers must do. Put quite simply, I must change myself to fulfill the qualities expected from me from my superior. There is no doubt that I am a sellout.

But as a tightened my brand new tie, symbolizing my new state of oppression, I decided to rebel. I decided to build an army. I decided to fuck over Schmulver’s.

And here’s how:

While I will continue to do as I am told, following the directions of my superiors, when outside of their watch, I will instruct others to break every rule possible. Someone orders a single burger, I’ll tell them to make it a double, they want a six piece shrimp, make it a ten, they want one scoop of custard, give them two, a short shake will be turned into a medium. I know all this seems very childish and immature, mostly because it is. And you probably doubt that this insubordination will have any affect on the Schmulver’s establishment. Wether my childish plan works or not is of no concern to me. The important thing is the idea. The act of rebelling against Schmulver’s. That’s all I want really, is to start a minor form of a revolution. The idea will be passed on, and regardless of effort, you cannot kill an idea.

Yes, I realize how stupid this sounds. But I’m just a girl who hates her job and wants some control, no matter how small, after relinquishing all the rest. Down with Schmulver’s.

peace

"We are remembered for the totality of our accomplishments, but we are defined by the singularity of our greatest failure.

We are what we cannot do."

-Downtown Owl, Chuck Klosterman

For a first novel, this book is pretty damn good. Read it.

peace

Sanctuary

I went to my church yesterday. It was the first time I had set foot in that building in over eight years. I remember, as a child, I was all about Jesus and the word of the lord. I would compare everyday situations to bible stories I learned in Sunday school, I would light the candles at the beginning of the service, I went to Vacation Bible School every summer. I loved God.

But for some reason I stopped going. My mother had just married my step-dad and he wasn’t very religious so I guess we just sort of forgot about church. I don’t remember my last sermon there and I don’t remember my first free Sunday morning, but some time ago it must have happened. I guess I forgot about my faith too. Without weekly revivals, it must have slipped away. And as I learned more about war, and corruption, and life in general, I began questioning established religions. It’s almost comical to look back at the child I was, reciting verses and singing hymns, to the person I am now, a person who has seriously considered atheism and scoffs at regular church goers.

But about two months ago I had this really powerful dream. In it, I was walking through my old church. I recognized everything, the water fountain that had always been too tall for me, the color of the wood pews, the doors leading to the offices of the pastors, it was just how I remembered it. But what’s weird is that I hadn’t thought about the layout of the place in years. If I had even attempted to remember what it had looked like, I am sure I would have failed to see it. But in my dream, the ones that are so vivid you’re sure it’s reality, I saw everything just how it was.

In my dream, I walked down the hallway, to the entrance of the sanctuary. But instead of turning left to enter the great steeple, I turned right into a little nook in the wall. There stood a small table, a tall one like the ones you use bar stools to sit on. Standing on the table was a candle, a long one, a worship candle in what looked like a glass cup. But for some reason, the candle was submerged in water. Next to the glass was a bottle of oil and a box of matches. I added the oil to the glass and lit a match, igniting the submerged candle.

Now I understand that this dream seems a bit anticlimactic, but for me, dreams aren’t about the images, but rather the feelings one gets from the picture. When I ignited the candle, I felt something, that surged through my sleeping body. When I awoke, I had this powerful desire to return to my church. Something was there for me. Whether it had been a message from my sub-conscience or perhaps from something more powerful than my mind, I had this undeniable sensation to go see what there was to see, to visit my past. You don’t mess with feelings like that.

So yesterday I went. I came late, I didn’t want to talk to anyone, I didn’t want to have to answer questions mostly. I came in during a hymn and quietly sat in the pew farthest to the back. I listened to the preacher present his sermon, and as he did so, I remembered why I once loved church so much, why I once loved God. The bible, all bibles, are pure good. I think that it’s hard for most nonbelievers to see that sometimes. They get so wrapped up in the faults of religion that they completely miss all the good it offers, which is sad because the gospel is poetry. It will speak to you if you let it.

Now, in my opinion, there is no question that God exists, but I doubt he is really a he, or a person at all. To think that God is some guy with an impressive beard who just chills on clouds all day is childish to me, but to think that this, us, life all came from nothing is just as ludicrous. I think that my discontent with religion had prevented me from realizing that. I’ll still probably denounce organized religion, but as Buddy Wakefield put it no matter what it is that you believe in, you have to spare yourself of making fun of God because that guy hasn’t even talked. Ever.

peace

re-evaluating some things

So, I feel like crap. I had an interview today for the National Council on Youth Leadership. When I first signed up for this I admit I didn’t really care. I was told to do so by my counselor, and me being an obedient child, I listened. If nothing else, it will look good on my college application, right? So I signed up, and got in. Cool. Then I get a letter, probably like a month ago, telling me that I have to do an interview . Alright, that’s totally fine, I have no problem talking with people. I also find out that six students are selected to go to this conference at Washington University. I really want to be one of those six. It was scheduled for today at 2:30, I worked till 2:00. Not a problem I thought to myself, I’ll bring my clothes to work, change, then go straight there. I’ll surely have enough time.

But, here’s the thing with time. It’s kinda a bitch. I got to Kirkwood, the location of the aforementioned interviews, saw a sign directing me to the building and followed it. Every single time I ever have something there I get lost. Why? I don’t know, I’m stupid maybe. So I frantically drove around the campus for twenty minutes, looking for this building so I can be on time. I’m speeding, running stop signs, pretty much neglecting all the rules of the road. I see a security guy, perfect! I’ll just pull up next to him and ask him where to go. Motherfucker wouldn’t slow down. I’m following this guy for like ever, honking like a mad man to get him to stop. Eventually, I ended up cutting him off, I really wanted to get there. So I ask him where to go, he tells me, I find it, I’m five minutes late. I hate life. I run in, oh, did I mention it was raining? It was raining. So I run in, hike my fat ass up two flights of stairs. I’m soaked because I forgot a coat. I’m out of breath. The ladies at the check-in desk look very frightened to see a drenched, very flustered looking black woman. Good impression right? I walk up to them, fearful that they’re just going to tell me to go home because of my tardiness. She tells me it’s alright, they give me a new time, I go in, do my interview, and if I hadn’t been late, I would feel very confident about it.

After the interview I drive to Read Photography to drop off this sheet for NCYL. On the sheet is said turn in by August 9th. Yeah, I know I shouldn’t have waited till the last minute, but I figured I would be out then anyway, so why not. I get there, the door is locked, and the sign says they’re closed on Sundays. Wtf? Then why on earth would you say the last day is the 9th when there is no one even there. I case the building, looking for some object to stick it in. Nothing. I end up trying to cram it under there door.

Now this all happened in like two hours. That’s a pretty sucky two hours. I most likely blew my chance at being one of the six people. And whose to blame. Oh, of course it’s me, I won’t dispute that at all. But this made me question something. Now I am a person who believes strongly in karma, destiny, fate, pretty much all the balancing forces of life. I believe that if you want something badly enough, the you should get it. Whenever something bad happens to me, I take it as a sign, that this is suppose to happen. Now I don’t believe that our futures are completely pre-destined, but I believe that we are given signs, opportunities, chances, and it is our job to interpret them, and act on them as we see fit. So when I was late, and when Read was closed, I thought to myself,

“Alright, this is suppose to happen for some reason. But this won’t matter because I want to go to the conference, I deserve to go, so I’ll get it.”

It was somewhat of a pep talk I guess, and it had me feeling quasi-better. But then I was thinking about it and I realized something. Is wanting something enough? Is thinking you deserve something sufficient? Absolutely not. Desire is nothing without effort. Entitlement doesn’t exist. It’s time I realize that.

peace.

the loneliest number

There are a lot of things I enjoy doing on my own, you may even call me a loner. It’s not because I don’t have friends, or because I don’t enjoy hanging out with said friends because I do. It’s just that many my friends don’t enjoy the things I do. When I am with a person, I feel almost obligated to make sure they have a good time. I’ll do any activity they want to do, whether it be driving around for hours or walking through a mall. Although these are not necessarily ways I like to spend my time, it makes them happy, and I like when people are happy.

But personally, I’d rather sketch, or photograph, or write, or simply walk. I like just being, just taking in everything there is, appreciating things simply because they’re there. I’m sure there are many people who also enjoy this stuff. But when I do something, I’m content with doing it for hours, or sometimes satisfied after fifteen minutes, it varies greatly. This is why I like doing things by myself, because I have the freedom to decide when I’m finished and don’t have to worry about pleasing anyone else, it’s really very selfish.

But I was reading Coates’ blog and he was talking about his trips to the Metropolitan museum of art. Coincidentally, I have been making consistent visits to our own museum of art, and have been thinking about some of the same things he was talking about. When I went to the Met, I started off in a group of friends, moving around the museum. But within five minutes I had broken away. I like to stop and look at the pieces, to really understand what it means. I’d spend several minutes at some. I couldn’t keep up with my groups pace so I went solo. I see some of the work there, and I wonder why more people can’t appreciate, or don’t enjoy things like this. How can they just walk by with little more than a glance? How can’t they feel the emotion that is screaming from the canvass?

But Coats makes a good point:

“I think--though I do not know--that maybe art touches who it's supposed to touch. Everyone won't see it as deeply as everyone else--whatever we take that to mean. Maybe they aren't even supposed to.”

it’s worth reading the entire post

peace

you can be the minority

So I was chillin with some friends a couple nights back. It was two of my girl friends and my guy friend. We were at his apartment just kickin it, talking, you know, shiiiiit. Jokingly my guy friend, Alex, compared our group to Charlie’s Angels. We laughed lightly, it was cute right. Then we began assigning parts, and guess who got to be Lucy Lu? Yeah, the black one. It’s not like I even said I wanted to be Lucy Liu, fuck that shit, I want to be Drew Barrymore. No, my friend told me that I was Lucy Liu. I find this interesting that I am automatically assumed to be Lucy Liu. Because she’s a minority that means I’m somehow closer in appearance or personality than my white friends? Black people and Chinese people look about as much alike as white people and chinese people, so wtf? Why can’t a be Drew Barrymore? I got to get me some more black friends.

Peace.

Farewell Old Friend

I just woke up. It’s almost three. I could have slept till five if I wanted. Why did I wake up so late you ask. Good question. Was it a party that kept me out? Kind sorta, not really. Was I doing my routine late Friday night drug deals? Not last night. It was for a friend who only has two days left, and I thought I owed him one last adventure.

My van, Leonard, is being junked on Monday. It’s like a death in the family.

I remember when I first got leonard. He was big, obnoxious green, worn, and a van. What kind of high school student wants to drive that? I hated being seen in that thing and refused to drive anywhere where that would be a possibility.

But that was until I realized what a treasure Leonard was. His back seat allowed ample room for sleeping and changing clothes, two activities I have done often in the confines of the beast. After orchestra concerts, when we all go out, or perhaps a crazy big night out, I can fit fourteen people back there, not legally of course, but fuck da po po. I have almost died in him, maneuvering through snow covered roads. Countless times my friends and I would get stuck in the snow banks of Kennedy doing donuts in their parking lot. People have plastered his windows with writings, that mean nothing, but everything to me. I’m a sentimental person. Not for objects really, but for emotions mostly. Every good memory I have stemmed from Leonard himself. He’s my buddy, he’s my friend. We’re pals.

Earlier this year, I decided to take a solo road trip, just me, leonard, and some fresh sheets of parchment. I was going to pack a small army duffel with, at max, five shirts and five shorts, possibly some undies, and hit the road, no direction necessary. For three weeks, it was going to be Leonard and me, bumming around the U.S. , totally chill. But then he got sick. I couldn’t drive him longer than fifteen minutes during the day. Our couples vacation was ruined.

And so to celebrate his life, and help me mourn his death, I decided to take a mini road trip. With a full tank of gas, last night, at 1:30, we left with a pillow, blanket, and an army bag with a book, a moleskin, my i-Pod, and a pen. I drove, for a good 2 hours, jamming to tunes, serenading Leonard with my angel’s voice. Then I got tired, so I pulled over into a Wal-Mart parking lot, parked my friend, and slept for two hours. I drove back home, early this morning, reflecting on the two years we’ve spent together. This post is a memorial to Leonard the van. May his legacy live on.

They say you never forget your first car. You never forget a friend either.

Peace.

immaturity vs. maturity

I would consider myself mature in some ways, immature in many others though. When it comes to just casual talking between friends in the halls, or gallivanting around town, I’m crazy. I’ll sing loudly even though I know I suck. I’ll inappropriatize any sentence with ‘that’s what she said’. I’ll laugh constantly over nothing at all as if it were the funniest thing ever. I have a good time, but I’m totally immature.

But that’s only half of me, I think of it as the good half. The other half is something else completely. It’s gross, unlikeable, possibly respectable, but unfunable. It’s the mature side, and while teachers and adults enjoy this side, I almost hate it. It makes me boring. It makes me want to pay attention instead of gossip with my friends during class. It make me enjoy learning, giving the illusion that I’m smart. It makes me know stupid smart things that I don’t want to know but will add to any casual conversation making people look at me and think to themselves, “Why the hell would you say something worth saying when we’re just gabbing about stuff not worth talking about?”

But I suppose I only notice my maturity because of teachers and adults. They have always told me, “I expect more out of you.” Now, they could be just saying that. As far as I know, they say that to all their students as a means of encouraging them to do better. Only the stupid ones actually listen to it. So I listened to it and tried harder to do better. I did better. But here’s the thing about better, it’s better than average. And here’s the thing about average, it’s determined by the majority. So my mind works to think better, but most people are operating on average. See a problem here? If two minds aren’t on the same network, how can they communicate to each other. It is because of this that I am segregated from my peers. I want nothing more than to laugh and joke with them, and most times, I’m capable of doing so. But in the presence of an adult, I can’t because they expect more from me.

Is that fair? To hold some students or young adults higher than others. To inhibit the immaturity of someone whose age should allow them to be immature? I love reading and writing and thinking, but I love my Tom Cruise moments, air guitaring around my house in my underwear too. Damn you for stealing them from me.

peace

just because

Young Soul

Imamu Amiri Baraka

First, feel, then feel, then read, or read, then feel, then fall, or stand, where you already are.

Think of your self, and the other selves... think of your parents, your mothers, and sisters, your bentslick father,

then feel, or fall, on your knees if nothing else will move you, then read and look deeply into all matters come close to you city boys-country men

Make some muscle in your head, but use the muscle in yr heart

The Dark Side of the Rainbow

For all you Pink Floyd fans, this is for you. It's Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon album used as the soundtrack to The Wizard of Oz. It's amazing how well this is synchronized. This is my favorite one out of the video with the song Money playing in the back. Its somewhat lengthy, but I promise you, you won't be disappointed.

peace

it's all be done before

Originality is dead. Creativity is gone. Unique is nonexistent. Unfortunately, it has all been done before.

I was one of the nerds to have the honor to go to the midnight premiere of the newest Harry Potter movie. Needless to say, I was very disappointed with the movie, but that is not my reason for this post. We sat impatiently in the packed theater, bearing through the previews. Now, I generally like the previews, it gives me a chance to get excited about upcoming films, but something was wrong with the ones I saw last night. Here is a line up of what I can remember.

New Moon
GI Joe
Shorts
Where the Wild Things Are
Sherlock Holmes

See a pattern here? Most of these films are based on books that have already been published. The GI Joe film is based off an action figure, so that is just as unoriginal as the rest. The one movie that isn’t based off a book is about a child who finds a magic wishing stone. Sounds nearly as bad as New Moon, right? So what the fuck world. What happened to creating, to inventing something new, something that didn’t already have a copyright label attached to it? I find it very disheartening to know that we have run out. We no longer posses the ability, or perhaps simply the work ethic, to be original. So what we’re left with is a generation of movies that are far better being books.

Par example, almost all the Harry Potter movies pale in comparison to the books. There are numerous events left out of the movies because no one but only the true Harry Potter fans would sit through a six hour movie. And that’s just not feasible because films are no longer about the art, they are just like every other industry in the world. They’re fueled by money and controlled by greed. And the die hard fans, although impressive, are not a big enough demographic compared to what it could be. I would bet that half of the people who see this film haven’t even read the first book let alone the sixth, but no matter. The movie industry still has made its money, what does it care about preserving art?

While I enjoy the Harry Potter movies I must say they ruin the book a bit for me. The same thing happened with the Twilight movie. Just puttin’ it out there, I read that book way back in 2005, shortly after it had been released. I was among the first to be in love with the fictional although attractive Edward Cullen. But if I had gone around talking about how I wanted to marry this pasty skinned vampire, people would have thought me mad. But now, because of the movie, his image has become commonplace, and so has therefore been ruined. Everyone wants him, and while I’m totally up for sharing, I must admit I am disappointed. Everyone who doesn’t want his bod, i.e. every straight male, hates him. Whenever the topic of Twilight is brought up you get eye rolls. Whenever they say his name, they say it with such disdain. But what they fail to understand is that Twilight, the book, was captivating. Perhaps I’m simply becoming one of those unhappy housewives who have become addicted to quick, cheesy romance, but I believe there is something in that book that makes it good. But the movie has failed in the representation, giving it and him a bad name.

We as a species have run out of ideas and now recycle the ones we already have. By doing so, we both ruin the classics, as well as pollute the present. Whatever, I’ll just block this realization out with Robert Downey Jr. in Sherlock Holmes.

peace

how black minds should think

Alright so I know I have been doing a lot of posts related to Black America.  I’m not sure if the people reading this are liking it or what, I am fully aware that I am no Coates, so I don’t know if any of the stuff I’m posting is entertaining. I plan on posting about other stuff soon, but for now I wanted to show this video. He makes some really good points and our views are very much related. The beginning is a bit slow, but it picks up and he ends up turning it into something like a beat poetry performance by the end. I think you’ll enjoy.

peace

is it because I'm black?

I refuse to believe that things happen to me solely for the reason that I am black. Although I often joke about the topic, saying things like, “It’s because I’m black,” that is the last place my mind goes and I am the first one to challenge anyone who sincerely believes that. But given the recent removal of black children from a pool because they would ‘change the complexion’ makes me question whether some things have happened to me because of my color. Perhaps I’m simply naive to think that ‘it’s cause I’m black’ is merely a joke. 

this video is hilarious:

peace.

Nigger

Yeah, that’s right, I said it. It’s okay though cause I’m black so I get to, right? No, not really. I suppose, between the white man and the black man, the black man, based on societal norms, would be allowed to say it. But why would you want to? To showcase how ignorant you are for using a word that was created by the white man to degrade our race? When people use this word, in songs or in greeting, are they understanding what the word truly means? Yes, one may argue that it has developed a new connotation, that now it means my “my friend” or “my brotha”, But here’s the thing with meanings of words, they are largely subjective. To you it may mean friend while to another person they see it in the form it was meant to be seen in when it was originally created. They see the negative definition. When two black people meet up and say to each other, “What’s up my nigger.” and a non-black person sees this, how does that look? What are they suppose to think when you greet a friend by calling them an ignorant, lazy, less-than-human, good-for-nothing black man? And if you do greet them in such a manner, and the other person isn’t offended by it, then it must be okay. In fact, that black person responded positively to that name, he must like it. Perhaps I should be calling black people that. And so they do. And that’s when whitey gets shot, and no one wants that do they.

So here’s some tips on the use of the word for both black and white.

If you’re white: Don’t ask your black friends if they mind if you use the word. I cannot count the amount of times someone has asked me this. As a general rule, if you think that something you say might offend someone, don’t say it, it’s really that simple. If you have to ask if it’s okay to use the word, then something in your mind must be telling you there’s something wrong with it. You should probably be using that part of your mind more, because obviously its the reasonable piece. When you ask permission to use the word, not only are you being an ignorant fool by assuming one person can speak for the whole race, but making yourself look even more like an idiot for even wanting to use such a degrading term. And, if for some strange reason they do authorize you to use it, be careful where you use it. Despite common belief, all black people don’t feel the same way.

If you’re black: Do not give a white person permission to use the word. Like stated above, you cannot speak for our whole race. And if your friend does ask you, a quick slap to the face would be the appropriate response. 

For all people: don’t use it. Have some respect for yourself. Lead by example and refrain from using it.  Although ODB is hot shit, he still looks ignorant as a mother fucker when he says it. 

an interesting piece if you care

peace. 

I bet you didn't know

In my class today,we were talking about Sarah Baartman. I was amazed that I had never heard about her ever before in my life, her story is one of great interest. She was an African woman who was tricked into coming to Europe, not as a slave really, but as a freak. Baartman was a full figured woman, and compared to what the Europeans were used to, a very rare novelty. Her voluptuous curves dumbfounded both men and woman alike, and she was sold to a circus to bring in revenue. She was put on display not for any positive reason, but with the malicious intentions of allowing people to view her as an object. Eventually, people grew tired of her and she had to find work elsewhere. And what other occupation could she get, but one of a prostitute. And so she sold her body for the last remaining years of her life, dying at the age of twenty-five, after five years of hell in Europe.

But even in death she was not free. Her vagina, breasts, butt, and skeleton were cut up and removed to be put on a display for all to see. She was legally the property of the country. It was not until 2002, 200 years after her capture, that she was returned to her home country to receive a proper burial. This whole ordeal is sickening really. What’s even more upsetting is that no one is told of this. Sarah Baartman seems like someone we should learn about, if not in history class, than at least black history month. Move on with MLK’s triumphs, let’s hear of Baartman’s injustices. I would recommend listening to this video, it talks a bit more about her. It also compares where black woman are today and how we have shamed Baartman’s name. Check it out.

peace.

MJ

Today I heard my mom say something that really made me respect her. My mother has never come off as a passionate woman with extremely strong views. I have never seen her defend any statement she’s made defiantly. But while we were watching Jackson’s funeral, she began to rant on how fucked up it was that it had become a way to make money. Buying a ticket to this man’s funeral ran about $25 dollars. Even in death he’s making money. One must wonder where exactly this money is going, and more disturbingly, who is trying to profit off the death of a legend. Accusations and suspicions aside, no one can argue that this man was a star. He was the musical symbol that united both black and white. In one hundred years, no one will remember his trials, but they will remember his music, his triumphs, his success. I always pictured his death coming when I was a mother. My child would wonder who this long ago star had been, and I would have the honor of sharing with my child both the wonder and shame that had accompanied this man. Regardless on how you feel about him, you have to appreciate the guy, at least what he did. Anyway, that was all. RIP Michael.

peace

here's what i think

God damn not another one of these. He’s annoying, he’s talentless, he’s unoriginal. Yes my friends, I am speaking of the one and only Sacha Baron Cohen. I’m sure you all have heard of Bruno, a fictional gay Austrian fashion reporter who wreaks havoc on unsuspecting people in public. Funny right? No, not really. I remember when Borat came out. Everyone wanted to see it. Most of the movie pushed the line of what was appropriate for films, crossing it even in many scenes. Borat was crude, rude, and funniest of all, foreign. His constant fuck ups with cultural norms was hilarious. I laughed, you laughed, America laughed. We had a good time. 

But then came the catch phrases. Oh god the catch phrases. Wa wa wee wa, I Like,  High Five, Sexy Time, and of course, Very nice. It’s not even the phrases that were so bad. It was the voice that accompanied them. Everyone in America was saying these, still are saying these in fact. And now, we have Bruno, who I’m sure will deliver us with a new batch of ridiculous catch phrases that will be devoured by our pop culture junkie generation. Great. 

His movie isn’t even funny if you really think about it. It’s the lowest of the low form of comedy. The shit Mel Brooks, the King of low comedy, craps out is fucking Shakespeare compared to this. I honestly feel like I’m de-volving when I’m watching this crap, and the worst part of it is, is that I laugh. I actually enjoy it. If I didn’t look back and actually think about what it was I was laughing at, I would continue to enjoy it, and this is something I don’t want to say I enjoy. It’s somewhat sad when you realize what humor has been degraded to. I want some classic funny, some wit. But instead all I’m left with is naked, obese men running around public. Not cool. The least he could do is give us something new. I mean, Bruno and Borat? From what I’ve seen from the previews they look very similar. They're names even share some commonalities. 

So here’s to boycotting Bruno. I wish you nothing but the worst. 

peace. 

swiper no swiping

So I my two of my friends, Alex and Jessica, were chillin at Alex’s apartment. We got hungry and it was like three in the morning so we decided to go to Casey’s to get some food. We parked next to these people and went in. We were probably in the store for a good twenty minutes before we left. We got back to Alex’s apartment and just as we were getting out of the car my friend Jessica asked where her purse was. I distinctly remember her handing it back to me and telling me to put it on the back seat which I did. So I ask her if she brought it in. She can’t remember. Alex asked her if she locked her doors. She can’t remember. So pretty much what happened is her door was unlocked with her purse just chillin on the back seat and somebody, most likely the shady characters we parked next to, swiped her purse. Not cool.

It was obvious what had happen, no one needed to vocalize it. But the worst part of this is that the people we parked next to, the people who took her purse, were black. I know what my friends thought of when they pulled up next to them, I won’t lie, I thought it too. I, and I’m sure you as well, constantly have to check myself because we have been brainwashed by these faulty stereotypes. But the worst thing is that these people just helped to reinforce this stereotype. I know not all black people steal. I bet you know that too. But I bet when a black person does steal, you expected it from him more than his white counterpart. 

I find myself watching or reading news somewhat apprehensively. Whenever I hear something about a murder or other crime, I start thinking, “Please don’t be black.” Although it’s unfair, it doesn't take away the validity of the idea that people of color must work twice as hard to get just as far. Think about it. Why do colleges give more money to black students and why do we have affirmative action? Because people expect much less from us, expect the worse, and if we do somehow manage to climb to the same level of a white person, then that miracle deserves an award. 

Black Americans are working hard to dispel these ideas of what black is. You don’t have to be president or famous to change peoples’ minds, but you do have to try to not be stupid. That dumb ass who took the purse just put my race back about five people, five minds who now think that those offensive stereotypes are truth and will look at me a new way. Not cool man. 

peace

pet peeve #16

For those of you guys who drive without shirts, I ask you one thing. Why? Where could you possibly be going that doesn't require a shirt?

peace.

the controversy over mudflap and skids

I’m not sure if any of you have seen the new Transformers movie, or if you have heard of any of the current controversy dealing with the film, but let me just say that it’s completely ridiculous. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, let me enlighten you. Apparently the two misbehaving robots are believed to be portraying black stereotypes with their street slang and gold teeth. There’s more on the situation here, but really people, c’mon.
First of all, I find it somewhat offensive that people think they’re black just because they’re acting like that. I know a ton of white kids who do the same thing, they don’t have black characteristics, they have urban characteristics, and believe it or not, those are two different things my friends and I’m sure there are some urban white kids acting just as much of a fool as Skid and Mudflap.
But really, it could be just some crazy trick of the white man, to demean the black culture, but then again it might not be. I really think we just need to stop assuming the worst of people. The director of the movie even said that they had complete freedom with these roles. One of them is even black. People need to just stop trippin’.
peace.

fail

If you guys haven't heard our friend Governor Mark Sanford  of south carolina has been having an affair. Yep, he’s a ho. He was actually a possible presidential candidate for the 12012 election. Kinda fucked himself in the ass on this one. He was quoted as saying, “ It all started very innocently.” Not a good thing to say in a time like that buddy. There’s a rule I have that I think all government officials should follow: when you’re caught doing something bad, you should probably try to avoid cliche sayings such as those. Own up to your faults and quit sugar coating how much of a dumb ass you are. 

peace. 

he gots it

So I’m not sure if you’re aware, but Obama held a press conference yesterday. While you may not agree with his plans and views on Iran and our current economic crisis, you got to give him props for not using a Teleprompter. You can really see the difference, it was way more sincere. I’ll take Obama’s eloquence over Bush’s barbarity any day. I'm not sure why but I wasn't able to embed it, so here's the link. Very cool Obama.

peace.

check this shittt

this is very cool.

scope it yo.

peace.

how I spent my saturday

So I had the pleasure of traveling to iowa city today for the pride parade. I thought there would have been more to it, but I suppose the fact that Iowa even has a gay pride parade is reason to celebrate in itself. It was really cool to see all the people supporting gay rights, there were even a few seasoned gay rights supporters. 

After the parade there was a festival where vendors sell assorted goodies. I went with the one lesbian friend I have. We were just walking around and stuff, looking at the merchandise etc. But as I stood there, I found myself thinking how natural all the couples looked. They didn’t look like gay couples, they looked like couples. If more people could see what I saw, I believe minds could be changed. She was getting her face painted and I guess the lady had called her sexy or whatever, I was too distracted at the (straight) hottie playing guitar. When my friend paid she gave her an extra dollar and was like, “That’s for calling my sexy.” The face painter looked at me and said, “She’s not going to come back and beat me up is she?” I looked around for a good ten seconds before I realized she was referring to me. I had been mistaken as a lesbian! 

On our way back we saw a person with a rainbow heart sticker on their car. My friend commented about how she wanted one. I told her how I had previously owned a gay rights bumper sticker but it had fallen off. My friend then asked me a question, one that I suppose was well justified. Do you like girls? 

I understand why she might have been suspicious. Going to a gay pride parade, having a gay pride sticker, the evidence seemed to be piling up. But no, I do not like girls. The way I see it is that the gay plight is similar to the black plight in that both are unrepresented and have struggled to be accepted by mainstream society. Gay rights is something that I can connect with because of this. My personal beliefs support my friend’s lifestyle, and I heavily back any of my beliefs. 

I agree, it is one thing to support something, and quite another to display it. But why should I be concerned with displaying my support. True, I’m sure, like the face painter, that many people will assume I’m gay, but who cares? I know I’m not so it really isn’t important to me. I am comfortable enough with my sexuality to support others'. And perhaps those people shouldn’t be assuming anyway, I think we all are aware of what happens when one assumes. 

I believe that the only way to change other peoples’ minds is to open them up to the way in which your own mind works. That’s why I chose to display my support for gay rights. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, on the contrary it’s something to be proud of. By showing other people that it is indeed okay to support others, then perhaps they can better realize it themselves and do the same. And so the numbers grow. 

peace. 

home sweet home

Hello old friend, how I’ve missed you.

You should have known I couldn't stay away for long. 

Sadly, it is not a topic of joy that brings me back, but one of annoyance. This week I started my black summer school thing. Except for the math part of it, it is very enjoyable. Although I will say that being taught Algebra after just finishing advanced Pre-Calc is very refreshing. Plus, I don’t think I have ever had so many black friends, it’s very nice. 

But the topic of my post is not my reconnection with my people, but about one of my teachers. She is of course black, which is very cool since I have never had a black teacher, but she herself is really starting to piss me off. We were talking about the new disney princess, which, excitingly, is black. I guess there’s a big controversy over her mate, who appears white, but is actually Brazilian. I’m not sure why this is so upsetting to people, if it’s her being black or her not having a black spouse, but she asked us how we felt about it.

When she asked me, this is more or less how I responded: 

I think it’s refreshing to see a biracial couple because all you see on TV and movies today is usually a black male and female as if either of them are incapable of dating anyone but their own kind. It has gone from the token person to the token couple. In any movie where there are multiple couples, there is at least one black couple. 

I thought this was a good response, but apparently my teacher was not pleased. This is how she responded: 

So you think that the black community has been represented well enough that we can now move on?

Wait. Back up. When did I ever say that, because I don’t remember having done so.

My teacher then proceeds to talk about how we have not been accurately portrayed in media, and I fully agree with that, we haven’t. Look at Mami in Gone with the Wind. We have a long ways to go still, I’m not denying that. But can we only reach that goal of being accurately portrayed by having both a black male and female couple? What will that prove? I believe that it will only support the idea that black people only hook up with black people, which simply isn’t true. 

But it wasn’t this statement that got me. It was when my teacher said, “When will we finally have an ethnically correct couple,” that really pissed me off. Ethnically correct? As if a black man dating a white woman or vice versa was ethnically incorrect. How can you be so ignorant? 

peace.

I decided that I’m going to be taking a bit of a break from blogger. I still love to blog, but I’m afraid that at the rate I’m posting, I’ll end up losing my mojo. I just want sometime to think without having to think about how it translates into a post, as I find myself doing more and more. I just don’t want to end up tainting my posts with feces. I’ll be back in a week or two though, hopefully with some new insight and more interesting things to complain about. But just remember guys, I’ll always be here.

“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under the trees on a summer's day, listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time”

John Lubbock quotes

stay cool.

and don't worry. 

seriously?

So I was driving around with my two friends and we had stopped at gas station to pick up some gum. We got back in the car and my friend in the passengers seat unwraps her piece of gum and rolls down the window to dangle the wrapper out. She holds it up to my window, so I can clearly see what she’s doing, teasing me with the threat of littering. I look away, because I know she is about to free the wrapper and let it drop onto mother earth. 

Now, for those of you who know me, I am very concerned with our planets well being, as I think all people should be. If there are simple ways to reduce your impact, i.e. not littering, then why won’t you do it? These two people I was with know how much of a tree hugger I am. Anytime they through shit out, I scold them for it, because they know better. One of them was actually in the same environmental science course as me. And yet, they not only continue to do it in my presence, but showcase it.

It’s the same thing whenever I go out to eat with my friends. I am a vegetarian, they know that, and because of this, they constantly talk about how much they love meat and how much they’re going to eat, and how it’s so delicious. Yeah, cool. Know what, I don’t care that you eat meat, or litter necessarily, but why rub it in my face? To show how much of a dick you are? Very cool. 

I nag my friends for littering and chose to not eat meat for two reasons that mean a lot to me. I am very passionate about saving the earth as well as the cruelty towards animals. These are two things I have thought about for a long time, two things that mean a lot to me. I don’t care that you don’t feel the same, you don’t have to, I get that peoples’ views can differ. Eat meat, throw cans out of your window, but don’t act like a three year old and try to piss me off by doing it. It’s not cool to disrespect things people believe in so much. Grow up. 

peace. 

Can you feel it?

So I was talking to my friend the other day about something that I now can't remember. If made to describe him in one sentence, I would sum him up as cynic. That’s right, that’s the sentence. I understand that technically, that isn’t a sentence based on the rules of literature, but rules were meant to be broken. But he is probably the hardest person to read. I feed off of emotions other people give me. If they give me sad, I’ll console, if they give me happy, I’ll smile, If they give me mad, I’ll cower and apologize, or perhaps go crazy black woman on them, depending on the person.

But this person gives me nothing. I can’t tell if he’s displeased on pleased unless he’s yelling at me or laughing. It’s not that he never shows emotion, it’s that there doesn’t seem to be any transition between them. Granted, I only see him for a short period each day, but when I do see him or talk to him, that’s what I get.

I was talking to him about emotions the other night. We are two very different people, and sometimes I wonder what he sees in me, how can he be friends with someone so completely different than him. I usually come to the conclusion that he really hates me, but puts up with me because he actually has one of the most admirable emotions, compassion. But anyway, not important. I would say I am a fairly dramatic person. All of my emotions are exaggerated. When I’m happy, you’ll know it, and when I’m pissed, it’s obvious too.

Now, I don’t think everyone needs to show the same emphases in their own emotions because then we would just have a bunch of Tamaras running around, and no one wants that. But I also don’t believe that we should hide our emotions. In his post, my friend says that he has self control, so he can handle his emotions. What does that even mean, to handle one’s emotions. That’s wrong, that goes against nature. Emotion is a reaction, you are suppose to react.

“Feelings are not supposed to be logical. Dangerous is the man who has rationalized his emotions.”

David Borenstein quotes

I understand that this all probably means nothing coming from someone who has little to no self control, but still. Emotions have been given a bum rap. They are a sign of weakness, a disability. They are a sign of one who lacks self control. But I don’t buy that shit. Emotions are probably the only pure thing humans have, and I for one don’t want that taken away from me. They allow a person to think. By interpreting your emotions, you’re allowed to decide what action to take. I’m not saying that they’re without their problems. I get that a person can’t react based solely on emotion, but you shouldn’t act without it either.

peace.