Don't Worry

"And so it goes in fashion"

2011-02-16T14:25:00.002-06:00

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.

"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."

It's worth the full read.

peace.

if anyone is still out there....

2011-02-02T10:03:00.002-06:00

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.

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.

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 doll experiment. 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.

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.

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.

Sometimes I regret my decision. Occasionally I don’t feel as attractive to the opposite sex. 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.

peace

always on my mind

2010-11-09T21:43:00.001-06:00

I will return to you soon, blog.

peace.

As I Watch

2010-09-15T00:06:00.005-05:00

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.

Just because something hasn’t been done before

Doesn't mean it can’t.

Because we are our own Gods

Watching the world play before us.

And it never really seems like we really have a place

Because there is no place for God in life.

So we make our own audience

and we don’t give them a choice

because God answers to no one,

Not even himself.

So we make our own podium

out of a worn, green chest that’s too short to serve it’s purpose.

But so are we, so who are we to talk?

So we preach our own doctrine

Though we know no one is listening.

Because we don’t preach for others,

We preach for ourselves.

So we stand nude in front of others

because clothes hide too much

and we have souls,

And souls weren’t meant to be hidden.

peace.

The End is Nigh

2010-08-09T07:03:00.002-05:00

I 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:

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

peace.

Playin' it Safe

2010-07-21T02:01:00.001-05:00

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,

Will I play it safe?

peace

Great Expectations

2010-06-27T07:05:00.002-05:00

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.

But anyway, the last few weeks of school, 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.

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.

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.”

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.

Peace.

Long time...

2010-06-16T05:27:00.002-05:00

Greetings,

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.

http://bloginterviewer.com/randomness/dont-worry-tamara-marcus

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.

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:

tsmarcus90.wordpress.com

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.

Until then,

peace.

this is what i got

2010-05-13T18:01:00.001-05:00

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

peace.

title

2010-03-16T19:14:00.000-05:00

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.

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.

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.

I don’t want beliefs. I don’t want literature. I don’t want knowledge. I don’t want to be an adult.

peace.

happy monday

2010-02-15T19:36:00.000-06:00

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.

Some things for you to ponder, if interested:

First, are you one who takes their time to go to work? Or are you one who rushes to go nowhere?

And second, somewhat connected perhaps. How many ticks are in your seconds? How much joy in your minutes.

Not having a job is peace. Now I just need to find my calling. Make the most of the day that's been given.

peace.

i'll trade you

2010-02-08T19:50:00.004-06:00

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.

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?

peace

make your move

2010-01-28T19:22:00.003-06:00

So while I’m not taking Robinson’s crazy side 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.

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.

peace

to my anonymous critic

2010-01-17T23:33:00.000-06:00

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:

“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”

So first of all, calling me a beatnik is no insult at all. It’s like the hippie of the 50’s.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

peace

firsts

2010-01-01T12:31:00.001-06:00

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.

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.

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.

peace.

it's good to be here

2010-01-01T00:40:00.001-06:00

Welcome to 2010. It’s my graduating year. That seems weird to think about, that this is the year.

I have two resolutions for you, 2010.

1.) Keep with my writing, which includes bloggin’

2.) Stop worrying so damn much. Although my blog is cleverly named Don’t Worry that is simply because that is what I have to tell myself every second of the day. This year, I'm gonna do it.

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,

fuck you.

peace

the noble peace prize

2009-10-12T15:42:00.001-05:00

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

2009-09-22T00:39:00.001-05:00

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

2009-09-20T19:29:00.005-05:00

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

2009-09-10T20:53:00.005-05:00

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

2009-09-08T15:52:00.003-05:00

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

2009-09-01T16:17:00.002-05:00

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

2009-08-26T19:50:00.000-05:00

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?

2009-08-25T23:02:00.004-05:00

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

peace

Beware of Dog

2009-08-25T22:53:00.001-05:00

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

2009-08-21T21:32:00.002-05:00

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

2009-08-19T15:36:00.002-05:00

"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

2009-08-17T12:47:00.005-05:00

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

2009-08-09T18:53:00.000-05:00

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

2009-08-06T23:15:00.001-05:00

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

2009-08-02T14:47:00.000-05:00

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

2009-08-01T15:10:00.001-05:00

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

2009-07-31T21:02:00.000-05:00

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

2009-07-29T12:01:00.003-05:00

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

2009-07-23T16:01:00.002-05:00

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

2009-07-15T08:46:00.003-05:00

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

2009-07-11T00:13:00.002-05:00

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?

2009-07-09T17:47:00.002-05:00

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

2009-07-09T14:26:00.005-05:00

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

2009-07-08T12:38:00.005-05:00

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

2009-07-07T12:52:00.002-05:00

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

2009-07-01T20:42:00.002-05:00

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

2009-06-26T14:11:00.000-05:00

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

2009-06-25T19:24:00.005-05:00

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

2009-06-25T09:46:00.000-05:00

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

2009-06-24T16:29:00.004-05:00

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

2009-06-24T12:34:00.002-05:00

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

2009-06-23T23:48:00.001-05:00

this is very cool.

scope it yo.

peace.

how I spent my saturday

2009-06-20T14:56:00.003-05:00

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

2009-06-17T19:51:00.002-05:00

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.

2009-06-10T17:09:00.001-05:00

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?

2009-06-10T17:05:00.001-05:00

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?

2009-06-10T12:19:00.004-05:00

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.

take a moment

2009-06-09T19:48:00.002-05:00

I don’t think people say thank you enough. Not because they aren’t thankful, simply because they forget. You know that old saying, you never appreciate anything until it’s gone? Well, it’s true, people really don’t. A lot of good things go unnoticed. This is just a short reminder, be thankful for everything, and if you are thankful for something, let them know. We could all use a bit of good karma.

Let me take this time to thank all of those who read my crap that I have written. You truly don’t know how much it means to me.

peace.

My Essay

2009-06-08T16:28:00.003-05:00

I figured out how to get my essay up here if you care to listen to it. I would be interested in hearing your thoughts if you don't mind.

peace.

Sunday School

2009-06-07T17:42:00.001-05:00

I went to my friend Charlie’s graduation party yesterday. While I was there, and older gentleman started talking to me. He asked me what my plans were after high school. I told him I wanted to be a housewife and he asked if I understood the physics and chemistry behind it, a response I was not expecting. I told him that I had been kidding and that I really wanted to be a doctor. He said some things, but what I remember was him telling me to ‘keep going’. Now, I don’t know if I want to be a doctor, but these two words really hit me. This man was obviously a bit intoxicated and perhaps a bit insane, but his words were powerful nonetheless. It really is that simple.

keep going.

peace.

the new superheroes?

2009-06-07T00:44:00.002-05:00

you have got to appreciate people like this. making fantasy reality. very cool.

peace.

and then there's that

2009-06-06T07:00:00.003-05:00

This past year, I noticed something. I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up. This is a bit of a problem here, seeing as I will be officially grown in less than a year. I have noticed something else this past year too. Writing is the only thing I have ever done that people have consistently enjoyed. But saying something like ‘I want to be a writer’ is like saying 'I believe in unicorns.' It sounds perfectly fine in the fantasy world of your head, but say it allowed under the presence of harsh reality, and you just end up looking the fool.

peace.

2009-06-05T21:11:00.000-05:00

Humans have a deep-seated desire to have their views confirmed by people who they perceive to be more articulate than them. Thus there is some money to be made talking, but not as much listening. And yet it's the listening that gives you the ability to talk with any sort of richness and depth. ~Coates

interesting, right?

peace.

femininity is overrated

2009-06-05T10:45:00.005-05:00

There are many words to describe me, but feminine is not one of them. As far back as I can remember, I have never been a real girly girl. I mean, I played with barbies of course, but most of the time they just ended up in the bedroom. Let's just say Ken was a very happy man. Some may say that this was because I watched Lifetime movies with my mom from the age five. If you have ever seen these movies, you should know that they can get pretty racy, their main audience being lonely housewives. This could be why my barbies were less than classy, but I doubt it. I just thought that is was funny.

When I think of my childhood, the things that stand out the most is the fort my friends and I built in the woods near my house. It wasn't one of those "No boys allowed" forts, mainly because I built it with boys. There were bugs and dirt, but this is where a good portion of my summer was spent.

I also remember my bike. I loved my bike. Hot pink and purple with shiny tassels. Classic girl bike, but its appearance was the only girly thing about it. I mainly used it for racing the neighborhood boys. I didn’t have anything against the girls, it’s just that the girls never provided me with enough of a challenge. I also remember this dirt track my friends and I found. I can't count the hours I spent on that thing, pretending I was racing motor-cross bikes or whatever they're called, that is until I got yelled at by some angry old person for being on their property. Yeah, rebel even at that age.

My legs tell novels I don't think there is a spot on them that hasn't been darkened by a wound now turned scar. Most of them are from my clumsiness, but a lot of them date back to my childhood. I was an adventurous one, I don't think I ever didn't have a band-aide on me. It was never one of those girl band-aides either with princesses and hello kitty, straight brown, keep it simple. I would rather have left it open, but you know how moms are. The battle wounds never did keep me away from the trees taller than buildings or an aggressive game of tag.

I would get lost on my grandparents farm, walking to the nearby cemetery or picking boysenberries. I remember trying to coerce the pigs to come over to me, stealing food from the fridge. This was highly forbidden, playing with the pigs. But could rules ever really stop me? It was hard to hide when you came back smelling like crap though.

In short, I was a tomboy. I shied away from girlie things, and excelled in boy activities. But, I bet a lot of girls were tomboys when they were children. The only difference between them and me is that they grew out of it.

I guess I have just recently been noticing it. Perhaps this is because we are almost adults, and more and more girls are acting lady like. But like a lot of other things, that’s boring. I can act like a lady if I want to. I can cross my legs, avoid burping, and talk about how I plan on marrying a rich doctor, but I’d be much happier slouching in my chair, belching the ABC’s, and not marrying at all. In short, I am not a girl.

Don’t get me wrong, I have a vagina and everything, but like my bikes’ appearance, that’s about the only girl thing about me. It seems that recently, I have been getting a lot of crap for this. Comments like, ‘Why can’t you be more like a girl’ and ‘Why are you such a boy’. I guess people are starting to notice what I have known all along. But is that so bad? I'm happy this way, or comfortable at least.

I make farting jokes, ask my guys friends if they hit that, and I’d rather watch a game of baseball than desperate housewives. I’m crude, unrefined, and perhaps the missing link to the definition of vulgar. But If being a girl means being what I’m not, then I’m perfectly content being one of the guys.

peace.

just because

2009-06-04T20:34:00.001-05:00

Mystic and Cavalier

by lionel johnson

to herbert percy horne1

Go from me: I am one of those, who fall.2

What! hath no cold wind swept your heart at all,

In my sad company? Before the end,

Go from me, dear my friend!

5 Yours are the victories of light; your feet

Rest from good toil, where rest is brave and sweet.

But after warfare in a mourning gloom,

I rest in clouds of doom.

Have you not read so, looking in these eyes?

10 Is it the common light of the pure skies,

Lights up their shadowy depths? The end is set:

Though the end be not yet.

When gracious music stirs, and all is bright,

And beauty triumphs through a courtly night;

15 When I too joy, a man like other men:

Yet, am I like them, then?

And in the battle, when the horsemen sweep

Against a thousand deaths, and fall on sleep:

Who ever sought that sudden calm, if I

20 Sought not? Yet, could not die.

Seek with thine eyes to pierce this crystal sphere:

Canst read a fate there, prosperous and clear?

Only the mists, only the weeping clouds:

Dimness, and airy shrouds.

25 Beneath, what angels are at work? What powers

Prepare the secret of the fatal hours?

See! the mists tremble, and the clouds are stirred:

When comes the calling word?

The clouds are breaking from the crystal ball,

30 Breaking and clearing: and I look to fall.

When the cold winds and airs of portent sweep,

My spirit may have sleep.

O rich and sounding voices of the air!

Interpreters and prophets of despair:3

35 Priests of a fearful sacrament! I come,

To make with you mine home.

somewhat emo, but good nonetheless.

enjoy.

peace.

Vlog

2009-06-04T19:26:00.003-05:00

So I'm not sure how to put my essay up on my blog, if anyone knows, hit me up.

But I decided to start a vlog. It seems like something fun and I think that I'm obnoxious enough to make it work. Plus my mac will make it super easy. I haven't posted anything on it yet, but when I do, I'll put the link up here.

peace.

St. Pio

2009-06-04T17:44:00.002-05:00

As you may or may not know, I am not a religious person. It’s not that I don’t believe in God, I just really don’t believe in religion in general, I think it just breeds corruption. That being said, there are a lot of aspects of religion that I really admire. I really do think that it does a lot of good, there are a lot of good ideas going there, and I think people can learn a lot from the teachings.

So while I was in New York, we visited this really beautiful cathedral as I talked about before. They were selling charm looking things of saints. Well, while I am familiar with most of the biblical sermons, I was only ever a practicing Presbyterian, so I never learned the individual saints. I asked the lady there to tell me which one her favorite was, figuring that since she sold them, she could give me a good one. She named off a few, but the one that really hit me was St. Pio. Most people have never heard of him, but he was the saint of the sick and the poor. I immediately felt the connection with this saint and decided on him.

I now wear the necklace pretty often. It helps me remember what my ultimate goal in life is, to help people who need it, the sick and the poor. I was wearing the necklace today and Dr. P asked me about it and I told him the story. When i got home, I wanted to look up more about him, to better understand the guy I’m sporting around my neck. It gave me some history on his saint hood, it’s pretty neat. But what I found most interesting was this:

"Pray, Hope and Don’t Worry"

This is the quote he has been known for. Ironically, this is the same philosophy I live my life by. Pray for the things you can’t control, hope for the best, and don’t worry if it isn’t. I’m not a religious person, but some may call it a sign.

peace.

get the facts right

2009-06-03T20:56:00.005-05:00

I first thought about becoming a vegetarian in eighth grade. I remember sitting in the lunchroom with Deena and Emma and I told them this. But I didn’t want to rush into things, so I waited. Then, my freshman year, I was almost sure I was going to become one, but I found out I was going to China that summer, and I wanted to be able to try everything there, so I decided to wait. When I got back, however, I still put it off. Well the previous year I had made a resolution to become a vegetarian by the end of that year. So a week before the next new years I decided that I would follow through with it. I officially pledged my vegetarianism on December 31, 2007, just in time. I have been a vegetarian for one and a half years now, and it is seriously one of the best choices I have made.

Since then, I have reflected on my choice. I rethink why I did it, and if I still believe in those ideals that I did when I made the decision. I first decided to mainly because I didn’t think that eating animals was right. If there are other ways to get nutrients, why should we have to kill an animal to do so.

Sometime during my sophomore year I decided that that was stupid. Humans are animals, animals feed on others to survive. It’s natural, the circle of life crap, you know. But I still had a problem with the way in which we produced the animals, like they’re just a commodity, not a living, breathing thing that feels pain. I saw those horrid videos of the cows throat being sliced only to have to walk around for the last five minutes of it’s life, tripping on its own blood. That’s not natural, that’s cruel. We mass produce livestock, forgetting that they are living beings. And so although I no longer thought that eating meat was wrong, I didn’t agree with how we did it.

Earlier this year I was talking with one of my favorite teachers, Dr. P. Every time I talk with this guy we always have a really insightful convo, both of us sharing our views and analyzing each others’. He’s a very open minded guy. He isn’t set on any issue really which allows him to present both sides mostly objectively. We somehow got on the topic of vegetarianism and he asked me why I chose to become one. I told him that I had a problem with how we treat our livestock. We talked about this for a while and then he brought up the point about how other animals kill their prey.

Injecting chemicals into them so they die a slow painful death was the one that hit me the most. I guess I had never seen things this way. Animals use what they’re given, they are not concerned with the means in which they gain their sustenance. If we are animals, then is it really so bad for us to be producing our meat the way we do? I had never once before seriously considered stopping being a vegetarian.

But I have taken A.P. environmental science this year and I learned that being a vegetarian is one way to live more sustainably. This year I have gotten crazy serious about going green. Running around recycling bottles in the trash, taking used poster boards to Garlock, just whatever. The small things count. So now I think that my prime reason for continuing my vegetarianism is because I care about our planet. It’s something small I can do quite easily.

But anyway, I was in french class today and my friend was talking about this skit Carlos Mencia did about vegetarians. He pretty much says that being a vegetarian is bad for our earth. He believes that the carbon dioxide and methane produced from cattle is used by the plants. The people eating all of these plants are hurting the environment because the reduced amount of plant life is unable to absorb the harmful greenhouse gasses of methane and carbon dioxide.

My friend told me this, and this really pissed me off. First of all, cows produce way more methane than carbon dioxide. Methane is way more of a harmful greenhouse gas. Secondly, plants don’t absorb methane anyway. Third, most of the plants grown are grown to feed livestock. Fourth, each trophic level you go up, you lose 90% of the energy, meaning that the cows that eat the plants only are getting 10% of that energy, and when we eat the cows, we gets .1% of the original energy. So technically, if you turn grazing land into farming land, you would have much more energy and would be able to feed much more people, plus there would be no livestock to produce carbon dioxide and methane.

Now, all of that might be a bit confusing, but what it come down to is that he’s wrong. But what really makes me mad is that people think was he's saying is true. In the video, people are cheering for him while he says this, acting like this is true. They believe him, my friend believes him. People will use Carlos Mencia, a comedian, not a scientist, to justify their meat eating and to condemn vegetarians. And that really pisses me off.

It’s people like him that say stupid shit that prevent change. I’m not saying you have to become a vegetarian, I don’t push my beliefs on anyone, but don't believe its the vegetarians killing this planet. Consider the source.

peace.

love of another kind?

2009-06-02T20:38:00.003-05:00

Fourth post today guys, looks like I missed it more than I thought. But...

So I’m almost sure this post will raise some questions from those who read it, but there’s really no questions to be had. I was a bit hesitant, but I feel comfortable enough with my sexuality to consider these thoughts, because they make somewhat of a good point. Anyway, on to the show.

So I was watching the movie Chasing Amy. Its about this lesbian female and this heterosexual male who fall in love and whatever. It’s not a bad film. But in the movie, there’s this seen where the girl is talking about her choice to become a lesbian. She said she decided to become a lesbian because she didn’t want to limit herself to love. Now I understand that being a lesbian would technically limit yourself, but still, that is perhaps one of the smartest things I have heard about love.

Now, I have never personally been attracted to any girl. But when I think about it, I don’t know if it’s just because I have grown up in a society that does not generally condone such thinking. We are never given that option, never allowed to consider other sources for love. And if you don’t believe in God, or at least don’t think he’ll smite two outties for getting together, then whose to say that love can’t be found in places you have never considered before.

This idea probably won’t change the people I am attracted to, I’m far too set in my ways to give up Hugh Laurie and Collin Ferrell. But it is interesting isn’t?

peace.

Oh, don't even

2009-06-02T18:32:00.001-05:00

my friend tried telling me that I didn't event the term: A.P. Lame.

psh yeah okay,

peace.

Bureaucratically Accurate

2009-06-02T15:54:00.006-05:00

So when I was in government coach white talked to us about being politically correct. I have always tried to be correct in the things I say, I don’t want to offend anyone. But he read us off some terms that showed me how ridiculous things are getting. Par example, you can’t say house wife anymore, it’s domestic engineer. And those creeper old guys who hit on teenagers are now referred to as sexually focused chronologically gifted individuals. Handicap people are now known as differently abled, handi-capable. Really?

I know this guy who is of American Indian descent, 1/4 of him to be accurate. Even whisper the words Native American and he flips shit. Why? Good question. My guess would be racism. The discriminatory actions of the past and not so past are ruining conversation for everyone, Every word now is plagued with a negative connotation. If you say black, then you must be hatin’ on me, or if you say gay then you’re a homophobe.

Now I can see where people draw conclusions such as these. The word retard being my prime example. This word is now being used by our society in place of the previously popular stupid. I know I have used it, and every time I do I feel a bit guilty. Being mentally-ill or homosexual for that matter is not a bad thing, but when you use these words as an insult, that’s what they become.

And is this not so confusing to have multiple meanings for all of these words. You're always on edge, checking to make sure what you say will be okay. Just then when I typed mentally ill I had retarded in place. I don't mean it an in offensive way at all, but I changed it because I fear that someone will take it the wrong way.

But are we not taking this too far? I am a firm believer that words only have power if you let them, and the only person that is capable of giving them that power is you. We have all fell victim to an unsatisfactory comment from another. But this is a case where the immaturity of our childhood should come into play:

I am rubber and you are glue.

Whatever you say bouncers off of me and sticks to you.

Enough said.

Peace.

2009-06-02T09:12:00.001-05:00

So Hannah and I were working on our report in U.S. and she for some reason wanted to check out the game thing on KCRG’s website. The games are real stupid, but go to that site and click on the boss button. It’s pretty classy.
peace.

Really?

2009-06-01T17:01:00.003-05:00

So I came across this and thought it very humorous. Kill whitey? Ignorance is so comical. You might want to consider the fact that race and crime are not always linked, but hey, that's just me. On the other hand, I'm probably going to snap and commit a violent crime fairly shortly. I can't help it though ya know, I'm black. Be afraid white man, oh be very afraid.

peace.

I almost forgot

2009-06-01T16:05:00.001-05:00

I feel like its been forever since I put the fingers to the keyboard. It seems I start writing then remember I really should be working on my homework and such and since this is no longer an assignment I can’t justify the time spent on this blog. Even now, I probably should be attempting to write my essay. But fuck it, I feel like blogging.

So I have been working on my essay for A.P. lame, and like all the other essays we have done this year, I at first struggled with a topic. I don’t just want to blindly pick a topic, I want to feel a strong connection between the things I chose to write. I was talking to Ayers though, trying to come up with an idea and we were looking through my blog to find ideas. As many of you know, I am black, and those of you who have read my blog know that I have brought this fact up once or twice before. It wasn’t until Ayers suggested it that I really thought I could write something good on this topic.

I started writing it on Saturday and was amazed at what came out. I have never really thought about what it means to me to be black, and this essay really showed some inner thoughts. I know it’s going to sound kind of dumb, but I got so into it that at one point my eyes started watering a bit. It was just an idea that I found really powerful and was surprised to uncover.

I have never been labeled as black, based on personality that it. Countless times I have had people call me the whitest black person they know. It doesn’t really bother me though, because I know they are only saying that based on stereotypical ideas of both races, but a lot of people are under the notion that because I don’t dress a certain way or speak in a certain tone, I am not connected with my roots. This is absurd though because I have had to live my life being labeled as the black one. I know where I’m from and I know what I am, at least in terms of heritage.

I must say that before this essay though, I most likely wouldn’t of been so sure of my ethnicity. I have never really considered myself black either, but my paper reassures me that I know what’s up. I don’t know I just got this feeling to post about this, I was just really excited. Anyway, hopefully I’ll be back to my regular postings soon.

But just so ya know, I am black.

Peace.

We're here.

2009-05-31T22:56:00.002-05:00

I'm glad to see people are finally getting the hint.

I'd like to see the U.S. follow suit. C'mon, get a move on man.

I can think of many reasons to care about our environment. Caring for the reason of avoiding ignorance, caring because it isn’t ours, and caring because we can do something about it are just a few reasons why everyone should do their part and care for our environment. While these are all good reasons, they are not the best. There is one reason that makes more sense than all of the others. We have all these reasons to care, but are they why we should? Nope. We should care because there is no valid reason not to, and that should be reason enough.

Peace.

Sunday School

2009-05-31T22:38:00.003-05:00

Don't think I would forget.

Schools almost out guys. Stick with it, stay cool, you got this.

Every day do something that will inch you closer to a better tomorrow.
~Doug Firebaugh

peace.

2009-05-27T19:40:00.001-05:00

Think about it.

A Boat beneath a Sunny Sky

A BOAT beneath a sunny sky,
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July --
Children three that nestle near,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Pleased a simple tale to hear --
Long has paled that sunny sky:
Echoes fade and memories die:
Autumn frosts have slain July.
Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
Alice moving under skies
Never seen by waking eyes.
Children yet, the tale to hear,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near.
In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die:
Ever drifting down the stream --
Lingering in the golden dream --
Life, what is it but a dream?

THE END

Lewis Carroll

peace.

you win: reflection on my blog

2009-05-25T21:34:00.017-05:00

Well as those of you who read my blog know, I have already done some reflecting and analyzing on my blog, trying to decide whether or not I should keep it running. I think those posts were fairly interesting, however, this is an assigned posts, and when things are assigned, they are boring. I warn you now that this post will be very dry and you should probably not read this, unless of course you are Mr. Ayers, in which case you must. I will not apologize for the low quality of this post, though, because you have brought this on yourself and by now you should expect this from me. But this post is suppose to be about my blog, not my poor ability to make assigned things fun, so here goes.

Scenario:

It’s sometime in September or October, one of the months of crimson leaves and chilled whether, and I’m sitting in my way too early class, hung over from the immense amount of homework I most assuredly was stuck doing the night before. I suppose I was glancing at a book while you were talking, because that is what I do. My foggy memory recounts you talking about our reading journals and how we’re going to try something new. I hate change. This I think while I’m reading my book and hearing you go on. Blogs. That’s the new thing. Blogs? Sad face. Not only is it different but its boring too. Fuck.

I’m sure that was something like the reaction resulting from the news of our blogging assignment. I’m much more partial to the good old notebook with a ball point pen, call me old fashion. I can crap out a page easily, but 1200 words. Freaking shoot me in the face, ya know. And we have to have a topic? Seriously, I can’t imagine this being worse. Oh but wait, it seems I have spoken too soon. Like a billion page article by Ayers’ God, Sullivan, about why he blogs. Cool. Who blogs? Boring people that’s who.

So what topic do I know stuff about? Nothing, at least not a topic I feel confident in talking about, that I feel I can give a valid opinion that would actually interest people. Whatever, I’ll just do movies, I know at least some stuff about them. And hey, why not throw a bit of literature in there too, I'm literate. And while we’re at it, I’m a sucker for a good episode of Private Practice, I’ll do TV shows too. So now I’m a critic. Critics are boring, but the worst kind of boring. They’re boring and mean. Now I can be a balding man with horn rimmed glasses and an 8 ft. stick stuck up my ass complaining about others’ work knowing full well I can’t do half as good as they can, but denying it all the while so I can feel good about myself as I destroy the creators self esteem. Cool.

Why can’t my blog be good. It’s boring, I’m boring. Fuck this topic I don’t want to review this shit. I don’t want to talk about the perspective the author is trying to convey, I want to talk about my perspective and complain about my life. So I did.

Scene.

And now I have my blog. And I’m happy with it. More than that I suppose. Would I go so far as to call it love. I would if only I didn’t think this would permit a smug little grin from Ayers’. My childish demeanor will not allow Mr. Ayers to be satisfied with the fact that he turned a skeptic into a believer, so the L word is off limits, but it comes close, I will admit.

The writing I have done in this blog is some of my best, some of the ones I am most proud of. It shows growth not only in my writing ability, but in the way I view the world. There are pieces that are really personal, things that I may not have written down if not made to. But when all is said and done, I’m glad I did. When I look back on these pieces its almost impossible to realize that its mine, to believe I could have written something so, at the risk of sounding vain, good. At least something that I am proud of. But it’s a good feeling.

When something pisses me off, or excites me, or gives me any strong emotion, my mind immediately thinks-blog. I have trained myself to recognize things that could be possible blogging topics. At first it was because I had to come up with shit, but now its simply because I love to come up with this shit. It’s a hobby. I didn’t realize how much I liked blogging until I stopped counting my words, my posts, because I had no need to. I knew I was way over the limit, and yet I still blogged, because I wanted to. And that is perhaps why I have allowed myself to come up with some writing I am really proud of.

Although I hate knowing I was wrong, and you right, I feel I owe you a thank you. But that is far too much for me to do so I hope I can satisfy you with this:

I love to blog.

Now that its done, I believe that statement is harder to type than a thank you, so you better appreciate that.

peace.

2009-05-25T00:30:00.003-05:00

worth it

peace.

as is this

and wtf?

Sunday School

2009-05-24T22:31:00.002-05:00

Remember what's important in life.

"responsibility is overrated, and spontaneity is underplayed"

Peace.

Culver's Lesson #103

2009-05-22T19:53:00.001-05:00

If you're made to do something you don't like to do, suck at it. They'll never make you do it again.
Peace.

leave her alone people

2009-05-21T18:15:00.008-05:00

So i was reading a post done by Andrea about Miss California, and though I am a gay rights supporter something about this whole thing just really makes me upset.

First things first. I do no agree with the response to the question posed to her by Perez Hilton about gay marriage. But then again I assume she wouldn’t agree with mine. Is her answer any less valid because I assume it to be ignorant? I would like to say yes, but in reality is not. It’s not like she didn’t have reasons to defend it. Her reason was that her strong religious ties inhibited her from thinking it acceptable. That’s a reason, and if you’re a religious person, it’s a good one. So why are all these people giving her so much crap on her answer. People opposed to gay marriage are just as entitled to their opinions as those for it. So before you condemn her for a belief that differs from your own, remember that she has her reasons, and to her they’re good ones, just as my reasons for supporting it are good ones too.

Now Andrea does bring up a good point. If she is such a religious person, why on earth would she show us her boobies? I admit that is a bit incriminating. But think about it people, what does the title of Miss California really represent. I know for me it doesn’t bring to mind a smart, bookish type. I think of a hot, tan, tall model. And what are hot, tan, models good at? Taking pictures. Does it really surprise you that someone that looks like her would be caught doing something like that. Now, I know this by no means excuses the shady connection with God she has preached. But I’m sure we have all done things we’re not proud of, maybe not to this degree, but no one is innocent. It is possible for a person to make a mistake and still love her some God. And even if she still doesn't consider it a mistake, she still can love God. I'm sure many porn stars are in some way affiliated with a higher being. And just because one action goes against God's teachings you're not condemned. You can have naked pictures and still worship God. Saying otherwise is like saying gay people can't believe in God because they're gay.

All I’m saying is that perhaps we should try to get a new perspective on this. see things from her side, and not make her out to be the anti-christ so quickly.

haha here's this pictures though. sucksss.

Peace.

Scope it

2009-05-21T13:13:00.003-05:00

I'm not sure why, but I really like this picture.

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2009/05/photogalleries/weird-american-festivals-missions/photo10.html

I suppose it reminds me of the police convention in Fear and Loathing, but way more insane.
Peace.

Pride

2009-05-20T20:52:00.003-05:00

So there is this guy in my Perspectives class who I dislike very much. He is so annoying and unnecessarily dickish to me. Like all just be talking and he’ll have some obnoxious retort and yell over my voice trying to be funny. It’s not, and he just makes a fool of himself. Now I am fairly certain that this all because my freshmen year he somehow got my friend to date him. They broke up as all high school couples do, and then he started trying to get with me. Now obnoxious, dickish people are not my type, I cannot date myself, so I just brushed him off, which kind of angered him. Now that was freshmen year. I haven’t talked to him since. This is the only occurrence we have shared, so I can think of no other reason why he would hate me so much. You think he would be over that right?

Anyway every time he does one of his childish little responses to something I say, I must respond in an equally childish manner. Why? I don’t know, I’m immature I suppose. But its really annoying. Its not like what he says is any real insult, a third grader could produce a better burn. So I am not sure what about it sparks a response. I could just as easily sit there and look at him like what the fuck are you talking about, but I think that would only result in another childish ‘insult’.

After this incident, I began to pick up on even more immature events.

Scenario:

My friend got mad at our environmental teacher and so he threw away his paper instead of recycling it. Really? I got it out of the garbage and put it in the recycling bin. He saw this, so he dug through his papers to find one he could discard of, after which he proceeded to crinkle it up and throw it away. Both times our teacher didn’t even notice it, so its not like it was a direct hit towards him. The only people who noticed were the ones whose attention he caught by calling out their names. He called out their names so they could watch him throw away the paper. Cool.

Scenario:

This chick was on her phone trying to drive. I have no qualms about people being on their phone while driving as long as they can handle it, but clearly she could not. Suddenly she had to drive on the shoulder to get back onto a lane because she didn’t realize that the lane had ended. At this point I decided to pass her because I knew her poor driving would just piss me off. As I watched her from my review mirror I saw her swerve off onto the shoulder once again. Really? Like five minuted later she speeds up to pass me but I’m already going off the exit, and so when she realizes this, she drives on the shoulder of the exit to get in front of me. She then drives in front of me at like 2 miles per hour, in both lanes. When she knows what lane I am trying to get in, she pulls in front of me. Its a red light, so were waiting, but when it turns, she does not move. I honk my horn and she sits there for a bit until she speeds off onto the on ramp and back on the interstate. Bitch didn’t even need to get off.

These are all cases of immaturity at its best. So what motivated me and these two other people to do what they did, to be little babies. My guess would be pride. We are all creatures of pride. Our pride must remain intact to retain our position among our peers. Damage to our pride will affect how people view us, they will see us as weak, as unworthy. So when our pride is challenged, we must defend it. So we retaliate to stupid offenses in much the same stupid manner.

I guess what I would suggest is to try and recognize the things that should offend you from the trivial ones that are intended to but shouldn't, because they are two very different things.

Pride makes fools of us all.

Peace.

hannah Montana sweatbands and johnny depp pez dispensers

2009-05-19T23:26:00.003-05:00

I have noticed something recently. Whenever an adult pays me a compliment I respond with some smart ass remark, as if their admiration is below me. I can think of three exact examples of this, and I know there has been many more. It surprises me I did not connect these sooner. I only give snobby comments when this compliment is coming from a teacher really. If its from a friend or even just one of my peers, I embrace their acclaim, thanking them for their kind words. So why does a peers compliment mean so much more than a teachers. I have decided because I am an immature brat.

I find refuge in relics from my childhood, my Picked Things book, Beetlejuice movie, and of course my blnankie. However, it isn’t only possessions from my childhood that please me, but childish things as well. Par example, my Hannah Montana sweatband and Johnny Depp Pez dispenser. I am one very immature person. How does my unhealthy connection to immature items relate to my disdain for adult compliments? Because it proves that I am afraid of selling out, of growing up really.

By acknowledging the fact that something I have done can please an adult audience (that’s what she said), I am ultimately recognizing the passing of my youth, and this I just can’t have. So I hide behind childish ‘that’s what she said’ jokes and child icons to reaffirm my place as a child. I am afraid of becoming an adult, as so many of us are, both children and adults alike. I see the responsibility, the hard work, the boredom. Is this what my life is destined to become? They all seem so unhappy. Perhaps its not unhappiness, just a sad realization that this is what their life is, and the sooner they accept it the better. They have settled. That just isn’t me. And I hate to be this naive little girl sitting at my computer preaching about how I will never be that person, I will never settle, I am going to be somebody, when I know that everyone who has settled has once been in my very seat. And I have seen enough movies and read enough books to know that my decline into adulthood is only inevitable. But unlike all those tales of oppression, mine will not have such a happy ending.

And so I shoo off your compliments as if they are the disease, the disease of adulthood, and by keeping them away, perhaps I can remain a kid if for only just a little while longer.

Peace.

if ya want

2009-05-19T19:11:00.004-05:00

I found this off of this really good blog and think that it's worth a listen. You may have read it before, which was the medium I was introduced to it by, but its much more powerful listened to.

Go for it.

Peace.

my dream

2009-05-19T17:29:00.003-05:00

So a couple of us had posted about dreams a while back, I being one of them. I never shared a dream though, mostly because all the dreams I have aren't anything special when told, only when seen, when felt. But last night or during today rather when I was lying in bed, afflicted by mono or swine flu, I had a dream that really touched me. I’ll explain it as best as I can, but remember, dreams are hard to tell. It’s a short one though, so it shouldn't be hard to follow.

I was sitting in a car, waiting outside of a school. It was dark out and no one was around, but I felt sure that I was suppose to be there, patiently waiting, staring out the window at some unseen target. The school was one of brick, an old style one. It was rose above its surrounding landscape, establishing its power, history and prestige. In front of the school was a playground which would have added cheer to the imposing castle of a school had it not been for the mask of night. There were a few trees whose massive size suggested they had been there as long as the school had stood. I could just barely make out a chain fence on the left side of the school, fencing in the backyard I assume. It was quiet out, a windless summer day.

Then I saw a small figure run through the dark. This must have been what I was waiting for because I neither felt surprised nor scared, simply ready. I sat up in my seat and just as I did so I saw a more powerful, equally as shadowed figure run after the one before it. He was chasing it. After I saw this I got out of the car and ran after the two. The smaller figure had been stopped by the fence and the larger one had just caught up to it. As I reached the two, the police came. It was obvious in the dream that the larger figure had been up to no good and I assume he was taken away because I don’t remember much of this part. The dream cuts to me standing with the kid, talking to him as he thanks me.

We’re walking around the chained backyard, talking when we see a group of older gentlemen. One of them is in a wheelchair. What must have been the head of school is leading them around the grounds, giving them a tour when they stop in front of us. The headmaster gives his thanks to me and introduces me to the older group. They are apparently the founders of the school, and from their appearance, this school was created some time ago. The gentlemen in the wheelchair seems to be the worse off, barely able to keep his head from falling into his lap. We speak for a bit and then say our good byes.

As they walk one way, and the child and I walk the other way, I suddenly stop. I turn around and run after the old men. As I call for them to stop, they turn around and watch as I make a fool of myself, sprinting after them. I catch up to them and stand in front of the man in the wheelchair. I reach my hand out towards his face, and gently place my hand on the wrinkled flesh of his cheek, lifting his face so my eyes look into his. As I look at him, I say only one thing:

“The kindness of one generation is never forgotten, their generosity is never gone to waste.”

As I say this sentence to the old man, he begins to cry. His weathered skin becomes stained with tears as all worries seem to be put to rest. Here is a man who has had one goal in life, to know he has made a difference. And as I spoke these words to him, he knows, he knows that his life has been worth it. So he cries. He cries because he is happy now. He cries because this is all he ever wanted. And as he cries, he is released, and you can feel it. When I saw him cry, I felt his joy because it is the same joy I long for.

It was amazing.

Peace.

Xanga

2009-05-18T20:29:00.003-05:00

So I don't know how many of you realized this but Xanga is a blog, I just figured that out. I think this is really funny. After finding this out I wanted to revisit my first blog. It is really funny, and I suggest you all do the same if you can remember your old password. It definitely worth it. Visit mine if you'd like.

Peace.

sunday school

2009-05-17T17:06:00.001-05:00

For the coming week remember...

“A man is about as big as the things that make him angry”
Winston Churchill quotes

and again..

2009-05-17T17:04:00.000-05:00

So my last post kind of touched on this but I want to go a bit more in-depth. Now with this whole disappearing ink thing, I find it hard to understand why it cause so much anger in people. In any situation where there is hurt feelings, I try to see each perspective. Apparently I am weird and my emotions are unlike anyone else's, so I view the scenario even more closely from each perspective.

Here’s the scenario:

I did something that made someone mad. However, I did it with the best intentions, thinking it they would find it funny. They didn’t though, and like Snook, they were mad. Now I can see why Snook would be mad more than this other kid. She’s a teacher and all, even though I do consider her my friend, but whatever, not going to repeat the last post. Anyway I thought my friend would find it funny because he is a funny guy and thought he would be amused by my childish antics. However he was not. He, along with snook is now mad at me. Cool.

Well I talked to him today to try and resolve this whole thing. I asked him if he was still mad and he said yes. See, I don’t understand this. I get why he might have been mad initially, but after knowing why I did it, why would you still be mad. I believe that intentions are all that really matter. If a person goes into a situation with good intentions, than even if the outcome makes you mad, you should know that wasn’t intended.

But people are still mad. I feel like I viewed the situation from his perspective, which is why I apologized, but he had not returned the favor. He has not seen that I didn’t do that to be mean, because if he had he would not still be mad. Seriously, why are people always so angry?

Peace.

The disappearing tale

2009-05-15T23:29:00.007-05:00

So here’s the scenario:

Emma used her five finger discount to jack a bottle of disappearing ink along with other random, useless gifts. Since I am a very much like a small child, I was very enthused by this present, how could anyone not like disappearing ink, it’s such a gag. I wanted to try it out, but everyone had already left the classroom seeing as it was a friday in an A.P. chemistry class, no one wants to be there after the bell rings. Well, I wanted to try it out on someone. Note that I had been the first guinea pig and had put a squirt on my shirt. But it was the reaction I wanted to see most, thinking that the victim would exclaim loudly, “what are you doing!” then notice that it quickly disappeared and give a reassuring, “oh you,” followed by a smily face.

Well Snook was standing right there, so I made my way up to her desk. Now, I would consider Snook one of the teachers I am friends with. She has been my counselor since my freshman year and I have been to many pact activities with her. We laugh, we joke, we talk about life. This was all in my mind when I thought about spraying her. I thought she would think it was funny, so I shot the ink on her clothes.

Well, I guess a bit of it had gotten in her eye. I didn’t know this though, and I just laughed, trying to show that it was only a joke and hoping she would follow suit and laugh too. There was no laughing though. Only anger and yelling. I guess she had spent two hours at the doctor earlier this morning because her eye had hurt her. She was concerned about what was in the ink and how it would affect her eye. Pretty much she just yelled at me for a while.

Now, I am a pretty empathetic person. When someone is mad, it makes me really upset, and if I am the cause of this anger, it makes it even worse. I felt really bad and apologized for what seemed like forever, it was an apology marathon. She wasn’t having any of it though and told me to leave. I felt so bad. I never wanted to make her mad, just laugh. Five minutes later I went back in to apologize more and see if she was alright. She threatened to fail me and scolded me some more. Once again I just stood there, taking all of her anger, and why shouldn’t I, I had been the cause of it. I apologized again and again, by now I was close to tears. She made me leave again though, and it was left at that.

You have no idea how much I hate when people are angry with me. Its one of the worst feelings ever. All I ever want to do is make people happy but all it seems I’m capable of is making them mad. Why is my personality so un-personable? It really sucks. I live by the doctrine, treat others how you would want to be treated. That rule is crap though, because if someone had done it to me, yeah I would have been mad at first, but after I would have just laughed along. Stuff like that doesn’t make me mad, and why should it. Why should I let something small get me down? What it seems I should do is treat others way better than I would treat myself, and maybe my life won’t suck. But why are people so angry all the time? Don’t let the little things get ya down.

It's not that I have a hard time understanding that different things offend people than things that would offend me, but I have a difficult time comprehending why they are so different for me. Why do the same things not anger me than others? What is it about me that makes me immune to anger? Yeah I guess its good because I don't get angry as much, but it sucks because I don't know how to judge when others will.

But it gets worse.

She called my mother and told her that I can no longer participate in labs because she is afraid I am going to attack her.

I did not make that up.

She also said that she was surprised I would do something like that.

How does that surprise her? The fact that I would have disappearing ink is surprising? It seems exactly like something I would have in my possession. The action wasn’t done in malice, only in jest. My intention seems evident after my countless apologies and almost tears, so why is she so angry still.

I’m not sure what else to do. Guess that’s all I have.

Peace.

shoddy compliments

2009-05-14T17:47:00.005-05:00

So yesterday I was complaining about how my coach was being a major douche cake and accusing me of slacking off. The whole team was pissed at him, so today we decided to 'listen to our coach, and take practice seriously'. We planned on not smiling, not talking, not laughing, simply listening to what he said and repeating it like the robits he wants us to be. This was our attempt to make him realize that practice would be boring as hell if we didn’t have fun. Was this an immature plan? Of cousre, but were high schoolers, what does maturity matter to us anyhow?

We did put forth a good effort to remain serious throughout the whole practice, but alas, my team is incapable of not laughing and talking and smiling, we’re too much of a happy bunch. We joked around with each other, but when our coach spoke to us, we took on somewhat of a stern demeanor, not looking him in the eyes and responding with short, terse, one word answers.

We started with some shooting drills, during which he complimented me on several occasions. Now, compliments from him are few and far between, so this was quite the rare occasion. He also speaks in a caustic tone that suggests everything he says is spoken with contempt, so distinguishing these compliments from all his other shit proves a rigorous task. During this drill he also attempted to joke around with me, engage in conversation and what not. But his light jokes about my Hannah Montana sweatband could not thaw the ice from my shoulder, and I brushed him off the same way he had brushed away my efforts the day before.

We were doing some drills and my coach was playing on my team. While my team was sitting out, he began to remark on my performance today, telling me that I had played well and saying that my runs in and out of space and angled runs to the goal had been done well, ‘exactly what he was looking for’ I believe is what he said. I had no way to respond to this. While I am totally pissed at him, I hate to not thank someone for a compliment. But I just looked forward at the ongoing game, pretending that my water bottle was prohibiting me from answering.

I can’t quite explain the emotion I felt from his praise. It wasn’t a joyous one, or one of satisfaction, nor one of hatred. I suppose the best word I have to describe it is indifference. His respect meant nothing to me because I had no respect for his opinion of me. I remember he once told me while practicing headers to do it well to make him proud. I told him I had no desire to make him proud. He then told me to do it to make myself proud, and I responded by telling him that a good header wouldn’t make me proud either. I suppose this feeling of indifference only reaffirmed what I already knew.

I don’t work hard to please my coach, my teachers, or even anyone else. I do it for my own self satisfaction. Perhaps that is a bit vain, but true nonetheless.

Peace.

by the way this is my 100th post.

im no FDR but i wouldn't call myself a Taylor either.

the matrix re-reloaded

2009-05-14T08:40:00.007-05:00

So I was looking at a post Lars had just done and found it very interesting. He talks about a really trippy dream he had and how it may or may not be a supernatural experience. The reason I found this post so intriguing was because I myself have had experiences such as his, but much less terrifying. I too have also wondered why these dreams were so vivid, what they are trying to communicate to me. I am a firm believer in the power of dreams and the subconscious. I think that our bodies manifest these visions to show us issues that our conscious minds are trying to suppress, and by doing so this may give us guidance in how to solve these problems.

But when I have dreams that are so lucid, so real that I can feel the touch, smell the scents, and hear the sounds, I wonder what makes them this way. A while back I thought I might have been going crazy because it seemed that the world, or my life rather, was too much in order. It felt as though I had no control over my actions or my thoughts. It was like living a life of the Truman Show combined with The Matrix, a feeling of being watched and this all being a façade.

I no longer think I am going crazy, or at least I no longer notice it, which could in fact mean that I already am insane. But during this time I thought I may be going crazy I started having dreams like the ones Lars was talking about, more so than ever before. This perhaps contributed to my belief of my descent into madness, but I could not deny the power of these dreams.

It seems that I have a hard time distinguishing between what is reality and what is fantasy. But why can’t these two be connected? How can you prove that the life I am in right now is not the dream of the life I live somewhere else? And that life would be the same life that I escape to when I dream. Perhaps that is why it is so hard to remember our dreams. We are so focused on living the life we are presently in that all else seems too obscure to comprehend. So if this is true, then which one is real? Do we decide which life we want to spend more time in? Maybe the other life we live is heaven. Maybe each time we “fall asleep” we are really just glimpsing heaven. And when we “die” in this life we have chosen to remain in the other, to make it permanent.

I’m sure all of this sounds too out there, but before you refute my claims think about why you are doing so. Is it because you truly don’t think it is possible, or because the rules of this life tell you it isn’t? If that is the case, than look at my ideas through the perspective of the rules of the other life, and perhaps you will find you agree. And if you can change your perspective on this issue, then what is stopping you from changing it on others, from looking at this life through the perspective of the other?

If this can happen, then wouldn’t it mean that we create our own rules? Everyone and everything you know to exist only exists to you, your mind has created them. Your struggles, your personality, your possessions, they are all manifestations of your own mind. Nothing is real unless you believe it to be so. If this is the case then what I am writing right now will only be viewed by others based on my minds perspective. You do not exist because of a supreme being or evolution, my mind allows you to do so, but only within the confines of it.
I defineitly have more to say on this idea, but currently my mind won't allow itself to do so.
Peace.

doing your best?

2009-05-13T17:40:00.006-05:00

I am so sick of people telling me I am not trying. I have teachers say that I’m not working hard enough, that I am capable of so much more. I have coaches telling me I’m not taking practice seriously and that I can do better. It’s really very annoying especially because I am. I am truly giving it my all, yet they are convinced that I’m just half assing it.

Here’s the scenario:

I decide to read a few lines or two from a book that I am really enjoying...in an L.A. class! Although I am reading, I am still paying attention. I could recite his exact words verbatim if asked to. My teacher tells me that I am just trying to skate by and that if I really applied myself, I could be much better. He tells me that so far its working and even by not putting forth the same magnitude of effort as my classmates I am still able to do well. But it won’t last for long. Meanwhile, I am actually working very hard, spending hours revising my essay. That is the only class I honestly like. I am not merely attempting to “skate by”, but on the contrary putting in real effort. I have spent more time doing the assignments in this class than in any other not because I have to, but because I want to. I truly enjoy this class.

To have the teacher of your favorite class doubt your efforts is a major killer. I am by no means expecting his praise or even desiring it. I need no recognition at all. But doubt, doubt it a hard one to handle.

And it gets worse.

Scenario two:

In what is perhaps my second favorite class I sit by a somewhat rambunctious lot. The teacher often gets very frustrated by this group because they talk the whole class period. I am not exempt from this gabfest. Once in a while I’ll interject a word or two, but my attention is still largely focussed on the teacher.

One day I was talking to the teacher, he’s a cool guy and I enjoy speaking with my teachers, they’re interesting people who have a lot more knowledge and experience. Anyway, I was talking to him and he started complaining about how I don’t pay attention during class. Like the above teacher, this doubt really infuriated me. I am really the only one who listens during that class, and what’s more, I am one of the few people who have read the text book, studied for the tests, and turned in all the assignments. Now I will admit that during work time I may not get much done, but that is simply because the school environment is not a place where I can concentrate. The way I see it is that if I always turn my work in on time, than why should he harp on my unwisely use of time?

Look at my grade. Does it look like I’m not paying attention?

Last Scenario:

Today at practice our coach pulled us in for a little talk. He complained about how we weren’t taking practice seriously and giving all our effort. He said that if we wanted to get better, then we had to work. He has told me how he thinks I am not taking this seriously which is completely untrue. I then responded to his complaint that maybe we are working our hardest. He then asked me if I thought I was giving it my all, and I told him that I thought I did.

“Well then I thought you were much better.”

What the fuck does that mean? Obviously you were wrong then because apparently I suck. Thank you.

Stop assuming that I’m not trying, because really, that’s all I am doing. It’s so disheartening to hear people accuse you of this. If you really are trying and they tell you something like that, then what they’re saying is that you’re not good enough. Cool. I am not here to fulfill your expectations, only mine.

Peace.

a small thank you

2009-05-12T16:20:00.003-05:00

So not too long ago I was wondering if I should keep my blog going after school was over. It’s something that I like doing, but I wasn’t quite sure if it was worth it. Today I was talking with my friends Evan and Olivia about something and somehow the topic of my blog came up and they told me that they actually really liked my blog. Evan said that he looked forward to reading my posts, which made me even more happy. Hearing people you respect compliment your work is perhaps one of the best feelings. While I appreciate the recognition from teachers, the approval of my peers may be even more euphoric. Knowing that I have somewhat devoted followers made my day, and probably saved my blog.

The blog shall stay.

Peace.

sunday school

2009-05-10T19:26:00.003-05:00

So I decided that every Sunday I'm going to post a few words of guidance for the coming week. However, this Sunday I decided to post a video instead. Deal with it. He wanted me to tell you that I found this video from Ryan Gibney, my friend.

Chicago O'Hare Airport Toilet from Amir on Vimeo.

Peace.

and we will change the world

2009-05-10T00:18:00.005-05:00

So I was watching the Edukators, a german independent film, and I started thinking about our generation. Let me start by saying that this is a really good movie that is not only entertaining, but had meaning as well, I would suggest you watch it. But anyway the movie is about these two guys and eventually one girl who break into wealthy peoples’ houses, not to steal, but to rearrange their possessions. Then, they leave a note saying you have too much money. The point of this exercise is to scare these people into realizing the ridiculousness of materialism. This group is a bunch of radicals, hoping to change the world. They see the problems in our world: consumerism, capitalism, and poverty just being a few, and attempt to kinda sorta start a makeshift revolution amongst their generation to correct these issues. They are unhappy with the status quo, so they do something about it.

I’m sure that we all see the problems in our government, shady dealings, questionable actions, what have you. This is common to us, realizations such as these. But think back fifty years ago. How common were ideas like this. People pretty much trusted everything their government did, believing that it was the best move to take because there is no way such an established government would deceive its people. Because of this unconditional trust, there were few signs of discord, that is until the emergence of the counterculture. These radical ideals preached by this new generation was a complete 180 of the way things were presently done. But while the young people of this era wanted change, their parents were unaffected by this movement, and retained their conservative views, inevitably crushing the movement along with the belief that things could change.

But this youth grew up. They spawned children of their own, and while their revolutionary ideas may have been suppressed by authority then, good ideals never die. They are still in our used to be hippie parents, and wether they intended to or not, they have instilled them in us as well. Because of this, we are a generation of hope, a generation of change. Now more than ever this is true. We see the folly of our forefathers actions, and instead of simply writing it off and ignoring it, we chose to stand face to face with the problems, to stare them down with our stink eyes of reform. As time moves on, more of us will be in office, and with this power, we will change this country’s view of the world, and hopefully this world’s view of our country.

We can't change the world unless we change ourselves. We have have changed though. We know the problems, we know how to fix them, now all that’s left to do, is to do it. We need a change, and that change has arrived. That change is us.

god speed.

peace.

The Jerk

2009-05-09T22:56:00.004-05:00

So I was looking at the kennedy blog thing where Ayers highlighted some good posts and happened upon the jerk post. For those of you who don't know, the jerk is a new dance that will soon become popular. Know why? Not because it is good or creative, but because it was invented by black people, and anything that we create must be hip.

I'm not sure how many people have noticed this trend, but it seems every time some black person comes up with an idea, however ridiculous, it becomes the thing to do. This is seen with any rap music ( lil' wheezy), any dance (stanky leg), and any fashion (oversized, brightly printed hoodies). Really people, c’ mon.

Now I am by no means condemning these trends, simply questioning how well these ideas were thought through. Does anybody not see anything wrong with some of these trends? Please say I am not alone. Some of this stuff just looks straight up stupid.

Doesn’t it make you wonder though, just how many of these fads have been created for a reason. I don’t know, but it seems like the black culture may have realized how impressionable they can be and now just comes up with things they know is completely ludicrous. I bet right now as I type they are laughing it up while some white guy or out of the loop black guy is attempting to walk it out to Unk while sporting his straight-billed cap.

I guess I just wish people would think these things through more. But I suppose fighting conformity is futile.

Peace.

2009-05-09T14:17:00.001-05:00

This is what happens when im bored.

Peace.

Why I blog

2009-05-07T20:48:00.005-05:00

A while back we were asked to do a post about why we blogged. I made up some crap to get by, but since I have actually started to like blogging I thought I should do a real one, a sincere one.

I blog because it gives me a chance to think about how I really feel about things. I have always concerned myself with not the happening of events, but why they happen. Often, I find myself thinking through the goings on of my life wondering how one event leads to another, and the what ifs of the changing of actions. Motivation is what rules this life, and understanding others as well as your own helps you better figure this life out. Some may concern themselves with living their life, as they should, but I find myself wondering more about how this life is lived. I blog to understand.

I blog about incidents that happen in my daily life, and what they mean to me, but most importantly, what I can learn from them. As I write, I simply let the words come, then go back through the mess to pick out what is garbage, and find the ideas, the thoughts, the sayings that mean something to me. I blog to learn.

Going back over these events that may shape my life allows me to analyze them better. By reviewing them I can go past the initial reaction and maybe gain something new, something more than just emotion. And maybe by replaying them, I can intensify that feeling, really recognizing it for what it’s worth. I blog to relive.

By talking, or rather typing, I get things off my mind. By blogging, I get my thoughts out of my head, perhaps making them clearer by separating them from the rest. By putting the worry in the text, my mind becomes free. I blog to relieve.

When I push the publish post button, I cannot deny a sense of satisfaction. Sometimes my work is crap, actually more often than not, but maybe just once I get it write. That once of yes makes up for all of the billions of no. And I feel good. Not because I feel I accomplished something, but because I Know I accomplished something good. Like all writers, I blog for my ego.

These are the reasons I blog. I blog for understanding, for knowledge, to relive, for relief, and for my ego. But I blog for me too.

“I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.”

Joan Didion

Peace.

Blog or no blog?

2009-05-07T20:23:00.001-05:00

As the school year winds down, so does A.P. lame, and the question of continuing my blog is brought up. I’m not sure if I want to keep it going, but at the same time, I hate to see it die. We have become friends over the months and there is some writing in here that I really am proud of, some things said that I really might need in the coming years. I have trained my mind to think of blogging material and fin myself thinking about how I can make an interesting story into a possible blog post. But no one reads my blog, I know this. I would just be writing for myself, which isn’t a bad thing, I would do that regardless. But should I blog it, or just keep it for myself?

I’m not sure what I’ll do with him yet. I suppose just see where time takes us.

Any suggestions? Oh yeah, no one reads my blog, I forgot.

peace.

Loser

2009-05-07T20:10:00.002-05:00

Today, I lost. I was running for the office of secretary for the senior class, and I lost. This is a new thing for me. Every position I have run for, I have always won, and I have held quite a bit of positions over the years, I would say close to twenty. Losing just feels wrong. I’m not going to act like I’m not bothered by this, I was upset when I found out. I don’t know if it’s because I really wanted to be secretary, or simply because I lost, and no one ever likes being a loser.

At the same time, though, I don’t really care all that much, at least as much as I think I should. If something means a lot to you, then you should be affected by it, and I don’t think I’m properly upset. Because of the lack of emotion following the announcement of my defeat, I began wondering the reason why I wanted to win in the first place. I might have done it because I truly wanted to make a difference in our school, or because I just needed something to catch colleges’ attention. I would like to say it was the former, but I’m afraid I am just not that good hearted. From what I could come up with, it seems that my main motivation was once again something to put on my college apps. Now, I don’t want people to think that I never really wanted this position, because I did enjoy the time. It gave me a way to serve our class and be apart of so many peoples’ lives, if only in a small way.

But let’s be honest with ourselves, these officers don’t really do anything. If you want to make a difference, being a class officer isn’t the way to go about it, depending on the impact you wish to make I suppose. As I look back on my years in office, I don’t think I really made much of an impact. I helped with some fundraisers and stuffing envelopes, but that was pretty much the extent of it. All officers are concerned about is prom, and why shouldn’t they be. Prom is a big deal to any class, and it’s the officers job to make it a good one, so that should be their main concern. But is that really all I want from my high school years? Thinking I made a difference by putting together a kick ass prom. I don’t doubt the work that this new set of officers will go unnoticed or be any less important in the eyes of our students. But I feel I should to more, something that really makes a difference, not only in the lives of the class of 2010, but in Kennedy High School.

And so I will, make a difference I mean. I have been turning over this idea in my head for a while now. As you may or may not know, I have often been pegged as a hippie for my what some may deem over environmentally awareness. I take bottles out of trash cans and pick up bottles from rooms, whatever I can to help even in the slightest. Dr. Dub mentioned something to me about really getting our school environmentally aware, and establishing a program that would be school wide, instead of the haphazard recycling we tend to do now. This, I can do.

Next year I will be starting an environmental club where this will be our main project. Before I leave the halls of kennedy, I vow to leave my mark, the green way. It’s really sad that I had to lose in order to realize where I should really focus my efforts, but if I had to lose for it to happen, well then I would say its most worth it.

Funny how life works sometimes.

Peace.

Affrimative Schmacsion

2009-05-05T08:44:00.004-05:00

So I was looking at this new blog that I just found, Tapped, and read a post talking about affirmative action. I have been undecided on this issue. I can understand why it was initially created, but question if it really is serving its job today or simply proving to be a hindrance. I imagine that if I were white it would be just one more thing for me to complain about, but seeing as how I am sure to benefit from this, it is hard to make a decision.
Before when I was reading Coates ' blog, he mentions it too, but I can't seem to find that exact post, I apologize.
After reading serwer's post, I once again realize how much distance we as a people have yet to cross to reach tolerance. For me, it seems hard to imagine that not but thirty years ago people of my color had half as many rights as me. The same people who protested at Little Rock or bashed the teachings of king are still alive. They have had children, and I wonder how much of their hate has been passed to them. Regardless of the inspirational preachings, we still have a long way to go.
Peace.

2009-05-05T08:23:00.000-05:00

Replace your operating system.