Gary.

I have this friend. We’ll call him Gary. He is an interesting fellow. He often sports a blue hoodie and some old school specs, and he is perhaps one of the few guys I know that can pull off skinny jeans. Before I was friends with him, I must admit that I thought we would be perfect for each other. There was no reason why, except for his appearance. My fascination with this gentleman was for purely aesthetic reasons. I became friends with one of his friends and eventually, with the guy aforementioned, Gary. 

At the beginning of our friendship it seemed my prediction of his character had been accurate, and I was not to be disappointed. He indeed was a very intriguing individual, one who seemed to captivate my attention with his sly remarks. He knew all about music, and listened to indie bands with names resembling some fancy deserts or body parts. He owned a hookah and he read. He read more than any other guy I had previously become friends with.

It seemed that Gary was everything I had thought him to be. Until I began to notice something. His friends would always say how he had only done something because they themselves were doing it. He would joke at others expense to impress someone he wasn’t really friends with, but desired to be. He would wave his intelligence in the faces of others in hopes they would fawn over his personality. In short, he was like everybody else. He was human. 

Imagine what a blow this had been to me. I had made him into a God simply because he looked different, unique. It usually takes a lot to look different. I personally believe it is the biggest social norm you can break simply because there is no hiding from it, even if you want to. To dress yourself in a way that baits questions and perhaps talk is quite courageous in a sense. So naturally I thought they would have a personality to back it up.

How often I have been disappointed in finding out that this is not true. Too many times to account indeed. The fact that I had idolized him, made it even worse. It was as if I had disappointed myself. Did I learn anything? Nope. Just that people can disappoint, and often they do. More importantly, that we are all as boring as the next person. I already knew that though.

Peace 

I am Black.

So I was walking through Target today and I overheard an employee calling a manager. She was telling the manager that someone had left the dressing room wearing merchandise she had not paid for. She said she had not known that until five minutes after. I presume the manager asked her to describe what the woman looked like because she proceeded to tell the manager that it had been a heavyset. black woman with all her hair on top of her head. Now that is a pretty vague description if you ask me because we do live in America, where about 40% of people are overweight. However we are in Iowa where about 10% of the population is a minority, but we do live on the Earth where about 100% of people have their hair on top of their head. 

But as soon as  heard her describe the woman, and mention the word black, I knew I was in trouble. Now to understand this story, perhaps you must know what the woman doing the tattle tailing was. She was a skinny, white woman with hair on top of her head. Have you seen her? I know, good description right. Well as soon as I brought my shirt up to her, I knew this was going to suck. I came up behind her, accidentally, and I said excuse me miss. I understand that this can be scary for anyone, having someone come up behind you, I didn’t really mean to. But she didn’t scream until she saw I was black so I am not sure if she necessarily screamed because I had frightened her, at least with my surprise attack.

As I asked for my fitting room, she snatched the clothes out of my hand and proceeded to inspect each one as if I might be hiding something in them. When she came up with nothing, she handed me a number. I politely thanked her and yet, she did not respond. In fact, she did not utter a single word the whole time I was trying to talk to her, save for a few whimpers of distress. 

My friends, I regret to inform you that I have been a victim of racial profiling. We live in a society where we preach acceptance and tolerance, but this is not true. Clearly I am as black as ever. 

Peace.

Wit

We are often asked the question, if you could pick one word to describe me, what would it be? This is a question that usually comes from people who are either very insecure about themselves, seeking refuge in the compliments of others, or people on the complete opposite end of the spectrum, those people who seem to survive off compliments. The diet of compliments is one that is high arrogance, but low in nutrition, so its necessary that these people go to whatever means to get their daily dose. I like to call these people compliment fishers. I hope you can see why.
But that question isn’t really important to anyone but them, if at all them. No one should really take much thought on what people say about them, especially a one word thought, but I suppose it could help you judge how others see you, which could be important if you’re working a lot with people. But again, their idea about you is not all that important. What is most important, however, is how you would answer for the question for yourself. Better yet, I think its even more important to start off that question with how what you would want that answer to be, because in turn, it would reflect on who and what you would want to be.
So if you were asked the question, What word would you want to describe you?
I believe that my word of choice would be witty. I have always loved these word. Its one that is only reserved to a chosen few, people don’t go throwing that word out. There is some honor associated with wit, because it is more than just being, it is doing. There are certain things you must do to fulfill the requirements of wit. But I believe you would have to be old to be witty, or at least have good wit. Why do I think that? Simply because that part is in my definition. I think that any complimentary word, or any word that can be give as a compliment is subjective. My wit would have to be an old wit to qualify.

“Wit is a dangerous weapon, even to the possessor, if he knows not how to use it discreetly”
Michel de Montaigne quotes

So, if you wanted one word to describe you, which one would you chose?

Peace.

Insanity

Do you think it’s possible to know if you’re crazy? I mean, to realize it before anybody else does. In all the stories I have read about someone going insane, they always seem to deny their crazy, and then give reasons for why they aren’t, but then in the end, they always end up being crazy and blah, blah blah. But what if you knew you were crazy, and tried to acknowledge it? What if you were the only one who could detect your crazy, and recognize it. Better yet, what if you were driven mad because you thought you were crazy, but since know one believed you, it made you even more crazy. Well, I think I might be going crazy, only when I tell people that, they dismiss me, because, of course I couldn’t be going crazy. They tell me that if I thought that, then that proves my sanity because a crazy person doesn’t know of they’re crazy. That’s only what we have been told, what we have been brainwashed with from the horrid tales of Poe, but I think there is a very good chance that a crazy person is just as capable of realizing their insanity as an insane person is of denying theirs.

But I honestly do think there is a good chance I am going crazy. Its not like a crazy that will harm me or others, more of one that will destroy my personality. Let me explain. It seems that lately, everything I have been doing, or have done has been done without my consent. Its nothing bad, but it feels like I have no control over any actions I now make, its all involuntary. Its almost like I have been separated from my body. My mind sees what is going on, but does not control it, my body just does it. I have become detached from myself.

I think this may be a result of being overworked. Maybe not being overworked, but being put in a routine that there seems to be no end to. I hate stability in the sense that it seems to lose all its excitement. Without anything knew, why even go on? So perhaps that is what has brought on my insanity. Perhaps I shall go bungee jumping.

Simply because I love him.

"I wouldn't recommend sex, drugs, or insanity for everyone, but they've always worked for me."

Hunter S. Thompson

peace.

Aca Dac

So I had academic decathlon yesterday. Yeah, I know, I’m a nerd, but what can you do about it. But while I was there, I couldn’t remember why I was there. I didn’t ant to be there. Its not something I enjoyed doing. So why was I doing it? There’s really no time later in life when ill need to know the difference between sitting man with legs spread and woman standing is there? Better question, do I care? Not really no. So as I was taking seven different tests, ones that I hadn’t studied for, I tried to answer that question. I didn’t do it for fun, who takes tests on Saturday mornings for fun? I didn’t do it because my best friends were doing. I didn’t do it for Snook, because I am pretty sure she hates me. I finally came to the conclusion that I had done it because it would look good on my college application. But then I began thinking about my motivations for everything else I do, and they all seem to have the same reason, for my college application. Ever since freshman year, I have focused my life on school. I get to school at 7, then have class till almost 4, and then I usually have something after that school related such as Mock Trial, or something dealing with class office stuff. Then I go home, and since I literally have 11 classes, I have about a minimum of 5 hours of homework every night, meaning I might be able to go to bed by 12:30 if I’m lucky, only to wake up and do it all over again. My weekends, and a few days during the week, are spent working in hell, or waking up early on Saturday for Mock Trial again, leaving me about no time, for myself. And why do I do this? I don’t like it, it doesn’t make me happy. I do it to get into college. There are only a few things I like out of my busy schedule, and yet, my days seem to be occupied with obligatory tasks. And now, I only work this hard so I can work even harder in college. Fun. This doesn’t seem to make any sense to me. Shouldn’t people enjoy what they do? I know I am not alone on this thought, but no how much I believe this, it won’t change anything in my life.

Peace.

Nerds

I was talking to my friend about one of our classes, A.P. Environmental Science. We were talking about the pointlessness of the class, and then moved on to discussing the tests. He said that he usually never really studied, just read the chapter reviews. I said that I have read every single chapter that we were supposed. This is an extremely strange occurrence since no one in that class has ever read a chapter. I would be surprised if people in there had read more than two chapters.
After I said that though, he called me a nerd. I wasn’t too worried about it though, seeing as last term I was one of the only people with an A in that class. I’ll take insult and good grades over praise and bad ones any day.


Later that day we were in the lab, and I was talking to someone about this book I was reading. I told them I was almost done with it. This gentleman was again in my class, and once again remarked, “Nerd.” Again, I didn’t care.
I was talking to this person on the phone last night, and he asked what I was doing this weekend. I said that I had academic decathlon on Saturday, so would probably spend Friday studying for it. I know, that sounds like a pretty nerdy thing to do, not only academic decathlon, but studying on a Friday night. This response was more understandable than the rest, and I was not surprised when he once again called me a nerd.
Now I know that my friend had only been kidding, but one has to stop to think about this. I could care less what people label me as, but nerd, I hardly would call that a bad thing. Are the nerds not the ones who are incredibly smart? Are they not the ones that get into good colleges? Are they not the ones who get good jobs? Are they not the ones who make a difference in the world? I have no qualms about being a nerd, because in fact, they are the ones that rule the world.
I’m not really sure why I should be made to feel bad for the things I do. I enjoy the things that would qualify me as a nerd, and I will not apologize for doing them.

“Be nice to nerds. Chances are you'll end up working for one.”
Bill Gates quotes

What I Believe

I once read a poem entitled What I Believe. This poem talks about life, and the things that happen within ones life, and how that shapes who we are, and what we perceive our lives to mean. It is my favorite poem. I read about 2 years ago. Since then, I have kept a book of things that I believe. Here are a few.

I believe one should never preach something they themselves are unable to follow.

I believe no one should be ashamed of their tears.

I believe you can only live not because you are afraid of death, but because you are not. 

I believe that when your heart is full, you need much less.

I believe you should give more than you take, live more than you die, dance more than you sit, do more than you think, listen more than you talk, understand more than you do now, open your mind more than you close it, and love more than you hate. 

I believe life could be so simple, if only we would let it be.

I believe that when you do something good, the world takes notice. 

I believe I can, so I will.

I believe people worry too much about living their lives to the fullest. The thought consumes them, and they waste their lives trying to do so. Do what makes you happy, and you will fulfill. 

I believe we shouldn’t always do the things were supposed to do.

I believe life was not meant to be generalized.

Believe in yourself; have something to believe in. 

And that, is what I believe. 

Peace.

Hate

As a child, I was told not to hate. Hate is a horrible word, my mother told me. She never said anything about the emotion. So I didn’t hate, at least I never used the word. But my toys were taken away and I was made to take a nap, so in the emotion sense, yes, I did hate.

I grew older. I learned what hate can do to a person. It is a terrible emotion, that eats away at the soul. It festers and multiplies, until it eventually consumes you. It makes you angry and cynical. I have only hated one person in my life. I do not hate him anymore. It was not a quick process, this getting over the hate. It took years. It laid in my body, simmering. Sometimes it would be strong, other times, I almost forgot about it. But it was there, oh, it was there.

For 6 whole years, I carried this hate. Then, recently, I got over it. I hardly noticed it when it happened, but I got over it. I no longer felt the burning I did when I saw his face. It was a good feeling, not hating. I told myself I didn’t hate because I had grown as a person, realized my folly actions. and had overcome this emotion with great persistence. I now realize this is not true.

“Hate is too great a burden to bear. It injures the hater more than it injures the hated.”

Coretta Scott King quotes

I only figured this out recently when I begin to hate again. Like my previous hate, this is no child’s hate. This is again a hate that burns with a passion. I told myself the things I had learned, the understanding I had gained. But it didn’t work.

I now see why. Hate i a necessary evil. Its part of the grieving process, and sometimes, its good to hate. It helps you get over the things you don’t want to deal with. Do I hate now. I do not feel bad, nor guilty for this hate. At some points, I even welcome it. I will let the hate continue because it should continue. Soon I will not hate. I will not be the wiser for it, but every event in life doesn’t have to teach you a lesson.

“Those who hate most fervently must have once loved deeply; those who want to deny the world must have once embraced what they now set on fire.”

Kurt Tucholsky

i know you like Amdrew Sullivan so..

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peace.