tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48695181690540780152024-03-13T11:34:49.963-05:00Don't WorryPoopypancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15408857437687988164noreply@blogger.comBlogger185125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869518169054078015.post-25269938122675781632011-02-16T14:25:00.002-06:002011-02-16T14:29:27.142-06:00"And so it goes in fashion"As I looked over spring fashion trends earlier today, I came across an interesting article in the New York Magazine on race in fashion by Robin Givhan. <div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Garamond, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; color: rgb(35, 35, 35); line-height: 20px; ">"Fashion pushes at the boundaries of political correctness in the name of creative freedom and buzz. But it often does it in a manner that is impish, sly, timid, and, at times, seemingly downright deceitful. How many times must we see a white model dressed in designer fare cavorting with the brown-skinned locals in India or Africa? Those who lead the cultural conversation about beauty, gender, and class biases can be shockingly uninterested in carrying on a dialogue about race—or simply unwilling to do so. I say, if you’re going to play with stereotypes, do it openly and honestly. After all, sometimes the culture needs to be challenged, even angered."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Garamond, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; color: rgb(35, 35, 35); line-height: 20px; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Garamond, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; color: rgb(35, 35, 35); line-height: 20px; ">It's worth the full <a href="http://nymag.com/fashion/11/spring/71654/">read. </a></span></div><div><br /></div><div>peace.</div>Poopypancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15408857437687988164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869518169054078015.post-48010080733398440932011-02-02T10:03:00.002-06:002011-02-02T10:35:10.008-06:00if anyone is still out there....<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I went natural about a month ago now. It was one of the scariest things that I have ever done. My hair was a little bit longer than shoulder length, and I cut it all off, down to my natural hair. In the black hair community, it’s called the “big chop.” I broke free of my creamy crack addiction. I guess right now you could say I rock a mini fro. And I absolutely love it. I can’t explain the combination of emotion I felt during the process. So many ideas were running through my mind. Of course I was terrified, I haven’t worn my hair natural since fifth grade. I had completely forgotten what it felt and looked like. But now, I can’t stop playing with my curls. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">A lot of people think that it was an impromptu decision, that it was just one of those crazy things I do. But there was so much more behind it. It is something I have been considering now for nearly a year. But for some reason every time I would think about going natural, I would convince myself that I had “bad” hair. I know now that it was stupid, and I’m nearly certain I knew it then too. But it’s not easy for black women to love themselves, much less their hair. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">From a very young age we are shown pictures that define what beauty is. What we see is that beauty often times is synonymous with white. For example, look at Kenneth and Mammie Clark’s <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kenneth_and_Mamie_Clark">doll experiment</a>. It is clearly impossible for any child of color to live up to that specific ideal of beauty, and so a form of self-hatred is developed. We do not even believe ourselves to be beautiful. The few black representations of beauty we are exposed to are generally light-skinned women with straight hair. So we conform to what society claims is beautiful, and we relax our hair. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Now, very few white people really know what the relaxing process entails. Let me give you a quick run-down. Relaxing your hair is one of the worst things you could ever do to it. It damages your hair, making it incredibly unhealthy. No hair stylists who was legitimately concerned about your hair’s health would ever perform this process. A very harmful chemical is applied to your hair. This chemical breaks away the outer layer of your hair, the layer that protects your hair from damage and gives your hair shine. By breaking away this layer, it is possible to smooth out the “kinks” of your hair, making it straighter. However, your hair does not magically become like the hair of our white counterparts. It is in some limbo state that is neither “white” hair nor “black.” It is a terrible process that not only damages the hair, but also the individual’s appreciation for their heritage, for the love of themselves. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Strangely, the people who most like my hair are my white peers. My black friends often freak out and gaze at me sadly while asking, in a near mortified voice, “What did you do?!” Ironically, the “people”who drove blacks to the relaxing process are the same people who now appreciate my new natural style. It is clear that self-hatred runs rampant through the black community because so many are unable to embrace the beauty that has been bestowed upon them from generations long past. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Sometimes I regret my decision. Occasionally I don’t feel as <a href="http://www.singleblackmale.org/2011/01/03/do-natural-hair-women-get-hit-on/">attractive to the opposite sex</a>. But there are so many more important things. And I know that it will be a learning process and that it will take time to redefine my idea of beauty. But I believe I have already taken the most difficult of steps. When all is said and done, I am happy with my decision and the ending of my cognitive dissonance. And I like the feeling of my curls. </span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light">peace</p>Poopypancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15408857437687988164noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869518169054078015.post-28962803323355134852010-11-09T21:43:00.001-06:002010-11-09T21:43:51.000-06:00always on my mindI will return to you soon, blog. <div><br /></div><div>peace.</div>Poopypancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15408857437687988164noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869518169054078015.post-57329494884730331782010-09-15T00:06:00.005-05:002010-09-15T00:14:04.694-05:00As I Watch<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 14px;font-size:11px;"><p style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 12px; margin-left: 18px; text-indent: -18px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal 'Gill Sans'; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="letter-spacing: 2px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> </span>I wrote this a week ago. There's this guy on campus who reads everyday, usually from the Bible. It's an older gentleman, and he's like some millionaire, yet he choses to spend his afternoons on a college campus reading. No one pays much attention to him, he's become such a common fixture. But everyday I get a chance, I just sit and watch him. He treats everyone with such kindness although others scoff in his direction. One day I'll work up the courage to talk to him. But right now, he's like a celebrity to me, and I'm still awestruck. But he was the inspiration for this. I gave him a copy, just because I felt like I should, and he read it aloud. He's incredibly amazing. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Just because something hasn’t been done before</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Doesn't mean it can’t.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Because we are our own Gods</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Watching the world play before us. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">And it never really seems like we really have a place</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Because there is no place for God in life.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">So we make our own audience</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">and we don’t give them a choice</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">because God answers to no one,</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Not even himself. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">So we make our own podium</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">out of a worn, green chest that’s too short to serve it’s purpose.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">But so are we, so who are we to talk?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">So we preach our own doctrine </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Though we know no one is listening.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Because we don’t preach for others,</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">We preach for ourselves.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">So we stand nude in front of others</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">because clothes hide too much</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">and we have souls,</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">And souls weren’t meant to be hidden. </span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">peace. </span></p><div><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><br /></span></div></span></span>Poopypancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15408857437687988164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869518169054078015.post-6977612609639925652010-08-09T07:03:00.002-05:002010-08-10T11:16:04.623-05:00The End is NighI posted this on my travel blog, but the tone really seemed to fit more with this blog, so I thought I would repost it here:<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 19px; font-family:verdana, tahoma, arial, sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><p style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0.7em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.7em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.6em; ">Whenever I leave a place I’ve stayed at for a substantial amount of time, I often wonder if it will miss me. I know it sounds silly, personifying such a large area, but I can’t help wondering.</p><p style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0.7em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.7em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.6em; ">When we first arrive in an area, we go through an adjustment phase. We get used to the feel, the look, the smell, all those good senses. For example, my room and the doorway to the bathroom. There is this ledge from my room into the bathroom and sits about an inch off the ground. The first night I got here, I walked into the bathroom, and stubbed my toe, tripping over the ledge. I did that for about two days, cursing myself, and that dang ledge every time. But now, I don’t even notice it. It’s amazing I remembered it at all actually. I avoid the ledge with complete subconscious dexterity. I have adapted.</p><p style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0.7em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.7em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.6em; ">There are many more examples I could site, and you know exactly what I am talking about. You do it in your own homes, too. That squeaky part of the stair you avoid, that screen door you slowly close to prevent it slamming shut, the drawer you have to gently open to prevent it from coming off the hinges. We adapt, without hardly noticing it.</p><p style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0.7em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.7em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.6em; ">So places must do it, too, right? I know, places are just nouns. They don’t have beating hearts or buzzing brains. They can’t remember, and they can’t feel. But they get used to you, too, just like we get used to them. Your desk chair knows your weight, your keys recognize your touch, and your office feels your presence. So when you just leave, when you just go, it must notice your absence.</p><p style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0.7em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.7em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.6em; ">People don’t thank inanimate objects enough. But if you recognize those tools that make your life so much easier, you develop an attachment. Not an unhealthy attachment, like most of the ones people have with objects. But an attachment of adoration built from appreciation.</p><p style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0.7em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.7em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.6em; ">This place here, my office, my dorm, my bike even, they have been home. When I first referred to my dorm as home, it felt awkward, unnatural. I actually corrected myself, calling it my dorm, not my home. But this is my home. The dingy walls lined with my Jonas Brothers and Miley Cyrus posters have become a familiar sight, the squeak the broken hinge on my wardrobe makes, a usual sound, and that annoying ledge that gave me so much trouble my first few days, is now just a commonplace fixture. It is safe to say that I will miss all of these things, as trivial as they may seem. And though I know life will go one here once I leave, that some new resident will take this room and make it their own, I wonder if the chair will miss my weight, or the keys notice my vanished touch, or my office feel my absence as it gets to know it’s new inhabitant.</p><p style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0.7em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.7em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.6em; ">peace.</p></span></div>Poopypancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15408857437687988164noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869518169054078015.post-56342945528367812932010-07-21T02:01:00.001-05:002010-07-21T02:01:25.828-05:00Playin' it Safe<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">It’s somewhat ironic, isn’t it? That I continually ignore the one thing I want because the one I currently have is safer. I’m all talk, really. Let me lay it all out for you. I used to be innocent. I used to be completely clueless of the workings of the world and how everyone always gets fucked in the end. I used to be a dreamer. And what sucks is that I’m young enough to want to return to that “used to” time, but old enough to realize that it is no longer possible. I’ve been talking a lot about being an adult and growing up, but I’ve finally pinpointed the exact time when it happened, when all my innocence was lost. It was when I began to make my choices based on what was safer, instead of what made me happiest. It was the moment I thought, “Yeah, well I would like to do that, but that’s not very probable. I better play it safe.” We always play it safe. I always play it safe. Why? Because the risk is too great. The chance that you might fail is a very real possibility. And then what? And then you look back and wish you had played it safe. Except, would you? Now that I think about it life really always does work out in the end. It’s like I was told, it doesn’t matter how much you make, you’re always going to spend it all anyway. And really when you think about it, that really is what is driving our safety; money. Because money brings security, regardless of how false it is, it doesn’t change the fact that it seems very real. So what if I don’t want to play it safe this time? What if I want to write? Will anyone read? Maybe a few. But those who write for money aren’t really writers. They’re crooks, manipulating the system. I write for different reasons. Not for audiences, but to live, because no matter how much I try to ignore it, the only time I come alive is when I’m creating. So I guess the question isn’t really, will anyone read, the question is, </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Will I play it safe?</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">peace</p>Poopypancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15408857437687988164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869518169054078015.post-14862036715845623072010-06-27T07:05:00.002-05:002010-07-05T08:08:16.535-05:00Great Expectations<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Just recently I graduated high school, right? The last few months or so, the teachers got all emotional like. They would tell you how much they were going to miss you and how much fun they had with our class and what not. We had our little award ceremony where we get our prizes for doing shit we should have done anyway, like taking AP classes and taking four years of a certain subject and all that other shit. I mean, you have four years of high school, why shouldn’t I take four years of math? Seriously, quit being lazy, that’s why we’re all so stupid. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">But anyway, the last few weeks of school,<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>teachers really get into it. At least they did for me. Almost all of my teachers told me how impressed they are with me and things like that. First of all, I hate when people tell me things like that. It makes me cry. I know that seems odd and sounds stupid, but that’s just what it does. Not like ball or anything, just teary eyed. I think I get embarrassed. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">But a lot of my teachers began telling me that I was going to do great things, and that really made me upset. That’s such a scary thing to say. Do you know how much pressure that puts on a person? These people barely know me, all they know about me is what they’ve gathered by that hour I spent in their room five days a week. There are twenty three other hours in the day. How do they know I’m not out selling drugs or stealing from stores? They know nothing about me, or at least very little, yet when they tell me I’m going to do great things they say it with such certainty. I can’t handle that.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">I have no idea what I want to do with my life. I have big dreams, but who doesn’t? Dreams mean nothing, it’s reality that counts. What do they even mean by great, anyway? What if all I want to do with my life is be a mommy and raise my kids and take care of my husband? What if all I want to do with my life is be a librarian and never marry? What if all I want to do with my life is become a nun? You may answer, “Well it’s you who defines great. That’s what they meant when they told you that you would do great things. So they we’re right.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Bullshit. If that’s what they meant, then they would say it to everyone, and I know they don’t. I feel like this post is making me sound conceited, but that’s not the tone I want to give off at all. I’m upset, if anything. But no one refers to being a mum, a librarian, or a nun as great things. Sure, they’re caring, necessary, and noble, but they’re not great, by societal standards anyay. So what do they mean by great?! If they’re so sure I’m going to do them, you’d think they’d give me a hint. There is so much pressure with the word great, so many expectations. I don’t know if I can live up to that. Or if I even want to.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Peace.</p>Poopypancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15408857437687988164noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869518169054078015.post-14589757910341073422010-06-16T05:27:00.002-05:002010-06-16T05:30:09.970-05:00Long time...<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 18.0px; text-align: center; text-indent: -18.0px; font: 14.0px Gill Sans; min-height: 16.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 2.8px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Greetings,</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">So I did this blog interview thing and I guess I’m suppose to post the link on one of my posts, so here it is.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"><a href="http://bloginterviewer.com/randomness/dont-worry-tamara-marcus">http://bloginterviewer.com/randomness/dont-worry-tamara-marcus</a></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"><a href="http://bloginterviewer.com/randomness/dont-worry-tamara-marcus"></a></span>It’s like some website that interviews writers of certain blogs to help get them more publicity or something. I’m not sure how reputable it is, but I figured I might as well do it. It can’t hurt, right? You can read my interview if you want, it just explains my blog a little more, so if you’re a new reader, it might give you a better idea of what it is I do, or at least try to do. <span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I’ve been really busy the past few weeks, graduating and shit. I leave in a couple of days for my internship in Taiwan. I’m actually keeping a travel blog, so if any of you are interested in checking it out, here’s the address:</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light; color:#000099;"><span style="text-decoration: underline ; letter-spacing: 0.0px"><a href="http://tsmarcus90.wordpress.com/">tsmarcus90.wordpress.com</a></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px ;color:#000000;"> </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">That blog is just about my Taiwan adventures though, this will continue to be my home base. I should get back to posting regularly in the next week, so look back soon. I’ve been working on this story recently, and I want to try out a few paragraphs on you, so look for that too. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Until then,</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">peace. </span></p>Poopypancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15408857437687988164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869518169054078015.post-3696556391666970792010-05-13T18:01:00.001-05:002010-05-13T18:01:30.620-05:00this is what i got<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 18.0px; text-align: center; text-indent: -18.0px; font: 14.0px Gill Sans; min-height: 16.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 2.8px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I’m not the best talker. I mean, I can hold a decent conversation with almost anybody, it’s not hard to find something in common. Although I don’t particularly enjoy small talk, I am amazing at participating in it. It’s the big talk that always gets me, the personal topics. It’s very difficult for me to share any information of value with people, I can’t think of one person who knows about my life. It seems, that by being so well trained at small talk, I have successfully managed to keep my secrets secret. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I realize that this quality of secrecy has probably hindered many of my friendships and most likely all of my relationships, with old boyfriends, as well as with family. Do I like it? No. But can I fix it? I have no idea how. I believe that this is why I found such solace in this blog. I am a very emotional person, but a strong one too, which is a horrible combination. Because I have such intense emotions, I feel great sadness at times. I cry a lot. But because I wish to maintain my strong image, I cannot share anything with anyone, for fear of crying in front of them. That is my biggest embarrassment. It could be because I don’t want to appear weak, or it could be because I hate sympathy more than anything else. But I guess that goes back to the weak thing, doesn’t it? I view sympathy as an emotion given to those you pity, and you know that when you’re pitied, you’re perceived as weak. I understand the emotion of sympathy, and I am not afraid to experience it, to give it. But when you are the one it is being given to, that doesn’t make you feel good either. To me, sympathy is the emotion you give in lieu of a better one, like happiness. Why would I want sympathy when what I really want is happiness? The presence of sympathy just highlights the fact that I am not happy, and I don’t need to be reminded of that. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I am told that depression is common, which reassures me some. Given the way I feel, I have no other explanation than depression. MInd you, this post is not intended to be whiny, or generate sympathy of any kind, because my words above are genuine, I really do hate it. This post is mostly for me, I think, because this is the only way I know how to talk, and I have so much I need to get off of my mind. It seems like my depression didn’t start until last year. It was around the middle of the school year. I was convinced I was going insane, but I now recognize it as the same feeling I’ve felt on and off since then, and I’m almost sure it’s depression. Just recently it seems like it’s been getting worse. I’ve come up with a set of reasons that could have resulted in this. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">For starters, my grandfather died a few months ago. Notice how I say died, not passed away, or some other stupid euphemism. That wasn’t accidental. You could say I’m not quite over it yet, but that’s a whole other post. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">My grandpa dying, I think, added to another reason I think it might be worse. I think it’s caused me to start thinking about my dad more. Like I’ve said before on here, I never really got to know him, or even see him. My grandpa was like my only father figure, and I think it’s just brought about a lot of confusion about my father. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">My last reason is stress. Stress and worry. I think with school ending soon and AP exams, I’ve just been a little stressed lately. Not to mention the worry about next year and going to college, and of course, paying for school. It’s just a scary time right now, trying to figure out if I’m going in the right direction. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I don’t know, there’s probably more going on and other stuff I should talk about, but this post is long enough, and I’m tired of analyzing for the time being. Just try not to worry.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">peace.</span></p><div style="text-indent: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Gill Sans Light', serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><br /></span></span></div>Poopypancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15408857437687988164noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869518169054078015.post-17634394843286864752010-03-16T19:14:00.000-05:002010-03-16T19:15:13.584-05:00title<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Today, I realized just how old I really am, and it terrified me. I have never felt like an adult, I mean an actual adult. I’ve felt adult-ish, but I’ve never felt committed to the idea of being an adult. But today, when I looked in the mirror, I realized that that’s what I was, that it’s what I am. I look at the freshmen walking in our halls, and they all look so young. I remember being a freshman, and looking at the seniors and thinking, “They look so old.” That’s how I must look to them...old, like an adult. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I suppose everyone has this moment, when they realize they have passed from the land of the child to that of the adult, but does it usually come this early? I’m only 18. I had always thought that if you continued doing the things that have always made you happy, you could always retain a bit of child in you. But as I look through my room, and through myself, I find that all the things I enjoy doing, all the movies I like, all the books I read, all the things I say and think, and believe, they’re all so adult, and I don’t know when the fuck this happened, or how I could ever let it happen, but I feel as though I’ve lost those very things I thought I never could. And I have no idea what to do now. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Even this blog, this very post, in fact, ages me. But these are the things I’ve made my home in the past years. It’s not a real a home though. It’s one built on the idea that the more you read, the more you learn, the more you feel, the more interesting you’ll become. Fuck that. In all reality, the only thing that happens is you become enlightened enough to realize that interesting and creative don’t mean shit. Enlightenment condemns you. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I don’t want beliefs. I don’t want literature. I don’t want knowledge. I don’t want to be an adult. </span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light">peace.</p>Poopypancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15408857437687988164noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869518169054078015.post-67401616408358397962010-02-15T19:36:00.000-06:002010-02-15T19:37:18.540-06:00happy monday<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 18.0px; text-align: center; text-indent: -18.0px; font: 14.0px Gill Sans; min-height: 16.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 2.8px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I hope this short note finds you all in good spirits on this wonderful, early Monday night. I felt very close to a moment of ultimate calm, and I thought a short post might complete this near serenity experience. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Some things for you to ponder, if interested:</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">First, are you one who takes their time to go to work? Or are you one who rushes to go nowhere?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">And second, somewhat connected perhaps. How many ticks are in your seconds? How much joy in your minutes. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Not having a job is peace. Now I just need to find my calling. Make the most of the day that's been given.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">peace. </span></p>Poopypancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15408857437687988164noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869518169054078015.post-59367961498962796372010-02-08T19:50:00.004-06:002010-02-08T19:52:07.701-06:00i'll trade you<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">So, I recently quit Culver’s. After three and a half years working in that blue hell, I finally managed to make it out, and thank gosh I’m alive. Why, you ask? Was the pay too low? Well, yeah. Were the working conditions sucky? Oh god yes. Were my managers bitchy. Fuck yeah! But that’s not the main reason. It was mostly because I was told to take my nose ring out, and homie wasn’t having that. So I quit. Do I have a new job? Nope. Am I going to get a new job? Maybe. Should I have found a new job before I quit? That would have been the smart thing, but it’s fun to be irrational sometimes too. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">But while I was laying in bed, enjoying all the comforts of unemployment, I began thinking about how I’m going to buy things from now on. I’d rather not break into my savings and my mother is eventually going to get tired of me asking her for money, so what am I going to do? And as I looked about my room, clothes I probably didn’t need strewn about the floor, my mac I probably could have done without on my desk, and my movie posters I most likely paid too much for hanging on my wall, I realized what these possessions meant. I have no real connection to these things, no real use for them. People have long since survived with three pairs of jeans, no computer, and no decorative posters with Johnny Depp and Penelope Cruz lounging on the floor, so why do I feel the need to have these. Perhaps the only thing that would be difficult to part with would be my books. And yet I have these things, things I don’t really need, and you know what that translates into? Time, and then eventually life. My life is in this computer, in these clothes, in these posters. I have sacrificed my time, and ultimately moments of my life to purchase these things. I have traded forgone memories, experiences, pieces of my life, for these possessions, clothes that will wear out, computers that will break, and posters that will rip. And when I think about this, I wonder, was it worth it? </span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light">peace</p>Poopypancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15408857437687988164noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869518169054078015.post-38618762827901303582010-01-28T19:22:00.003-06:002010-01-28T19:25:25.497-06:00make your move<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 18.0px; text-align: center; text-indent: -18.0px; font: 14.0px Gill Sans; min-height: 16.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 18.0px; text-align: center; text-indent: -18.0px; font: 14.0px Gill Sans; min-height: 16.0px"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Gill Sans Light', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So while I’m not taking Robinson’s crazy</span><a href="http://www.christiantoday.com/article/pat.robinson.comes.under.fire.for.haiti.curse.remark/25082.htm"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> side</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> on the issue of Haiti, this whole thing bothers me. It’s the one thing I really hate about America, and news in general. The only time shit like this makes headlines, the only time people know about how sucky our world is, is when something big happens. Haiti’s government and society has been in turmoil for years; actually, ever since the French first colonized the Haitian “savages”. But who cared to notice? Not half the people caring now. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 2.8px"></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I know Haiti's situation is fucked right now, and I applaud all those people who are willing to help and are putting in the effort to clean this up. But I also beg those same people, all people actually, to give a damn before something like this happens. Right now, Haiti has been getting the attention, all the sympathy. But there are other countries out there, people who need help are waiting. Why can’t we make a move now, work on prevention so we don’t have to worry about cleaning the mess up. Look beyond yourselves. It’s hard to do that sometimes, especially with all the things we’ve been given. Damn we’re lucky. But I implore you, make your move now, don’t wait for something big to act, something big to go wrong, because I assure you, it’s the little things that make the difference. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">peace</span></p>Poopypancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15408857437687988164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869518169054078015.post-23498615232221911892010-01-17T23:33:00.000-06:002010-01-17T23:34:08.275-06:00to my anonymous critic<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">So my last post was supposed to be about firsts and how dull life is without them. I used the rule of three triad of sex, drugs, and alcohol since rock n’ roll isn’t really a big part of my generation. I had used these three merely as examples, to convey a much more meaningful message. When I checked back on my blog today I saw this: </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 9.0px 0.0px; line-height: 18.0px; font: 13.0px Trebuchet MS; color: #333333"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">“quit being a beatnik and quit trying to prove that you have taken the "smart" approach to using drugs even if it is your second time doing something it is your first time doing that thing the second time. you should try having original thoughts rather than the same thoughts about original experiences”</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 9.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px; line-height: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light; color: #333333"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">So first of all, calling me a beatnik is no insult at all. It’s like the hippie of the 50’s. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 9.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light; color: #333333"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">But what really bothered me was that my anonymous critic totally missed the purpose of my post. Instead of reading deeper into the what may have seemed like superficial examples, they chose to pick out the one they found offensive as they read it simply at face value. My post was not about drinking, smoking, and sexing, it was about living, with or without those things. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 9.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light; color: #333333"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">And not once did I even say I smoked. I have no problems admitting I do because I doubt Ayers still reads this crap and no one else who does can really do anything about it unless they want to spread it around school, which doesn’t worry me. And on the off chance Ayers does occasionally stop by this site and does notify my mother, meh. But I still feel like they shouldn't have assumed I did, just by my example. And why is that one is so much worse than the other two? If I had just left it at pre-marital sex or underage drinking, would they still have been as offended. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 9.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light; color: #333333"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">And that being said, when did I ever claim to be taking the ‘smart’ approach to drugs. That’s like taking the ‘smart’ approach to drinking. It doesn’t exist, you’re still out of your right mind while doing it. I know I’m not being smart when I get high. I mean I’m as smart as I can be, but of course there’s danger. But I don’t go to school high, go to work high, not hang out with my friends to get high, spend all my money on getting high, etc. It’s just not a big deal to me, whether I do it or not. People who think that this one thing defines a person are nuts. I still work hard, I still read, I still care about things, I’m still me. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 9.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light; color: #333333"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">And to the last part, about having original thoughts, I can’t really argue that. My writing and thoughts probably aren’t original, but to me, they mean something. They help me figure things out, they help me develop my views on life and my perspective on living. I’m 18. Very little of what I say is probably original. I’m just trying to figure stuff out. Like I said, to you, it may not be original, but to me, these realizations are some of the coolest shit. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 9.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light; color: #333333"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">So I guess thanks anonymous critic. I’m sorry you didn’t find what you were looking for on my blog. But like I said, my writing is primarily for me. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 9.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 36.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light; color: #333333"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">peace</span></p>Poopypancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15408857437687988164noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869518169054078015.post-38129666038628149922010-01-01T12:31:00.001-06:002010-01-01T12:31:35.529-06:00firsts<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">You know why people like New Years? It’s the same reason people hate it. It signifies a new beginning, and humanity loves new things. If you’re a happy person, a new year is a joyous occasion. If you’re depressed, the new year is an ominous horror that reminds you you’ll have to go a whole other year, being depressed. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">But people like more than just new years. They like anything that’s new, that they’ve never done before. Why do you think being young is so much fun. It’s not that we can do things adults can, in all actuality, they are legally allowed to do more than any of us. But the same stuff doesn’t appeal to them because they’ve already done it a million times before: sex, drugs, alcohol. It’s lost its novelty, and therefore its appeal. You always remember your first time, in anything, and so you compare every other experience to that. The rest of your experiences are based entirely on the first. The first time is a defining moment in your life, and shapes your perspective thereafter. But there are only so many firsts one can experience. Pretty soon we’ve all had sex, we’ve all gotten high, and we’ve all gotten drunk. And after we’ve reached a point, it all just becomes habitual, expected, common, and consequently, boring. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">My theory is that people aren’t afraid to get old and grow up. I mean I thought I was, but I don’t think that’s it. Sure, I’m afraid of dying, but I’m trying this whole not worrying thing, so it isn’t on my mind as of this moment. But becoming old doesn't really scare me as much, not anymore. What does scare me is becoming bored, of running out of firsts. People are leery when it comes to trying new things, as we are taught to be. But there are so many new things to try, and I’m talking more than positions, narcotics, and wines. My hypothesis is that as long as you keep trying new things, you’ll keep living life, and eventually, that worry of growing old will just die away. Maybe.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">peace. </span></p>Poopypancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15408857437687988164noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869518169054078015.post-50994127971864653162010-01-01T00:40:00.001-06:002010-01-01T00:42:24.873-06:00it's good to be here<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Welcome to 2010. It’s my graduating year. That seems weird to think about, that this is the year. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I have two resolutions for you, 2010. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">1.) Keep with my writing, which includes bloggin’</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">2.) Stop worrying so damn much. Although my blog is cleverly named<i> Don’t Worry </i>that is simply because that is what I have to tell myself every second of the day. This year, I'm gonna do it. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">And for those who care, tonight I celebrated my second year of being a vegetarian. People told me I wouldn’t last two months; some didn’t even give me two weeks. To those people I say, </span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">fuck you. </span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light">peace</p>Poopypancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15408857437687988164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869518169054078015.post-6555848624277369832009-10-12T15:42:00.001-05:002009-10-12T15:50:20.100-05:00the noble peace prize<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light; min-height: 14.0px">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. <span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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?”</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">And he responded with, “Yeah, he shouldn’t have accepted it.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Avoiding the question, he then asks me if I know enough to be defending Obama. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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.</span></p><div style="text-indent: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Gill Sans Light', serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:12px;">peace</span></span></div>Poopypancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15408857437687988164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869518169054078015.post-2944740144312637422009-09-22T00:39:00.001-05:002009-09-22T00:41:18.255-05:00holding door=scholarship<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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?</span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light">peace</p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light">p.s. Not sure how many of you noticed, but who was holding the door when we left tonight? No one. Huh.</p>Poopypancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15408857437687988164noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869518169054078015.post-92230001249796577352009-09-20T19:29:00.005-05:002009-09-20T19:36:54.895-05:00keep lookingI 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. <div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(48, 48, 48); line-height: 19px; font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:13px;"><p style="margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; ">"Barack Obama refuses to be their nigger. And it's driving them crazy."</p><p style="margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; ">-Coates</p><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://ta-nehisicoates.theatlantic.com/archives/2009/09/flip_and_pop_my_collar_like_the_fonz.php">read it</a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); line-height: normal; font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;">peace</span></div></span></div>Poopypancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15408857437687988164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869518169054078015.post-42123542598858597802009-09-10T20:53:00.005-05:002009-09-10T21:04:59.474-05:00liar liar pants on fire<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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 <a href="http://youre-real-lame.blogspot.com/2009/06/fail.html">SC republicans</a>. 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<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> "Defeating the man who yelled liar at Obama" </span>If you missed it, or just want to <a href="http://rawstory.com/blog/2009/09/republican-shouts-you-lie/">reminisce</a>..</span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light">peace</p>Poopypancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15408857437687988164noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869518169054078015.post-63815360166223827282009-09-08T15:52:00.003-05:002009-09-08T16:02:34.852-05:00that crazy socialist does it again<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"> 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. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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. </span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light">peace</p><object classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=9,0,0,0" width="320" height="305" id="embeddedplayer"><param name="movie" value="http://usat.gannett.a.mms.mavenapps.net/mms/rt/1/site/gannett-usatoday-206-pub01-live/current/immersiveproduction/immersive/client/embedded/embedded.swf"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><param name="scale" value="noscale"><param name="salign" value="LT"><param name="bgcolor" value="#000000"><param name="wmode" value="window"><param name="FlashVars" value="playerId=immersiveproduction&referralObject=1245927808&referralPlaylistId=playlist&adServerBasePath=http://gannett.gcion.com/adrawdata/.0/5111.1/778078/0/0/header=yes;cc=2;cookie=info;alias=&adPositionId=Preroll&adSiteId=www.usatoday.com&SSTSCode=/video&revSciZip=undefined&revSciAge=undefined&revSciGender=undefined&gpaperCode=usatodayprod,gntbcstglobal&marketName=usat&division=usatoday"><embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://usat.gannett.a.mms.mavenapps.net/mms/rt/1/site/gannett-usatoday-206-pub01-live/current/immersiveproduction/immersive/client/embedded/embedded.swf" id="embeddedplayer" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" menu="false" quality="high" play="false" name="immersiveproduction" height="305" width="320" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" scale="noscale" salign="LT" bgcolor="#000000" wmode="window" flashvars="playerId=immersiveproduction&referralObject=1245927808&referralPlaylistId=playlist&adServerBasePath=http://gannett.gcion.com/adrawdata/.0/5111.1/778078/0/0/header=yes;cc=2;cookie=info;alias=&adPositionId=Preroll&adSiteId=www.usatoday.com&SSTSCode=/video&revSciZip=undefined&revSciAge=undefined&revSciGender=undefined&gpaperCode=usatodayprod,gntbcstglobal&marketName=usat&division=usatoday"></embed></object>Poopypancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15408857437687988164noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869518169054078015.post-68932115023557487642009-09-01T16:17:00.002-05:002009-09-01T16:18:33.649-05:00I got a dollar<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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?</span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light">peace</p>Poopypancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15408857437687988164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869518169054078015.post-78683661681384949782009-08-26T19:50:00.000-05:002009-08-26T19:51:46.998-05:00a little thought<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">peace</span></p>Poopypancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15408857437687988164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869518169054078015.post-60382071985697138922009-08-25T23:02:00.004-05:002009-08-26T00:21:59.841-05:00Really?Saw this on Coates blog, I was almost positive this was an <i>Onion</i> production. Sadly, I was wrong.`<div>peace<br /><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: -webkit-xxx-large; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: -webkit-xxx-large; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre; font-family:Arial, sans-serif;font-size:10px;"><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/dh_JXJoV2Yo&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/dh_JXJoV2Yo&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></span></div></div>Poopypancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15408857437687988164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4869518169054078015.post-79865666200881898462009-08-25T22:53:00.001-05:002009-08-25T22:55:42.228-05:00Beware of Dog<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I came across this <a href="http://www.news.com.au/story/0,27574,25978014-421,00.html">article</a> 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, </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><i>"Because I feel like the least I can do for (my) daughter is give her a bit of justice," Ms Jobe said. </i></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><i>She's going to have scars for life. The least I can do is take away that dog's life.”</i></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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? </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">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. </span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light">"An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind."</p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light">-Ghandi </p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light">Maybe I'm just being insensitive. Any thoughts?</p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 18.0px; font: 12.0px Gill Sans Light">peace</p>Poopypancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15408857437687988164noreply@blogger.com2