Here he goes again.

On Gay Black Men and Bitterness.

2011-07-14T04:46:00.000-07:00

I wrote this entry as a note on facebook on June 30, 2011. I thought I would post the contents here.

---

So...I thought I should do this while the events are fresh on my mind and I'm still drunk. Excuse any and all errors.

I've been struck by how many gay black men are bitter, or saddled with tons of baggage. This is particularly true in Boston.

Coming out is a happy time, or should be. When I did it, eight or so years ago, I had some things on my mind. I knew I had a homophobic aunt and some others and in my mind that meant my entire family was virulently homophobic. One of my best friends had come out as a lesbian and been disowned. A whole lot of nonsense. So, I prepared myself. I ran away from my urban Black school to some predominantly Jewish HS in the suburbs and made contingency plans for getting disowned. Never happened. I ran away again to college in an attempt to escape people who actually mattered to me.

That being said, now that I'm a little older, I've met some interesting people. One thing I've been struck by is how bitter so many gay black men are. Being part of the demographic, I didn't necessarily get it at first. I won't even address the DLs; this discussion is limited to out, gay black men. There was always something to complain about. The lack of options, the racism, the snow queens-- ie. other gay black men who refused to date other gay black men, or in more extreme cases even associate with them. I think Boston is particularly hit by this type of stuff, so that probably colors my experience.

To a certain extent, I believe that if you want to find something, you'll find it. If you're set on life being a piece of shit, then...guess what? It will be a piece of shit. A lot of people do this-- they're used to whining and moaning and being upset about nonsense and consistently search for nonsense. Which isn't to say negativity and nonsense don't exist-- they do. But if you look for it, you're probably going to only find more. This view informed part of my worldview about gay black men that were bitter-- they were bitter because they encountered nonsense, looked for more nonsense and only found more. The rabbit hole dug deeper. Which isn't to say the nonsense isn't real. I'm sure it is. But I just assume everything is a numbers game-- there are enough numbers of anything to distort your experiences and color your life. I don't know.

And then, tonight. So, today was already interesting. I'm pretending to be a lawyer-- typical summer for a rising 3rd year law student. Interesting summer so far. One of Black senior associates asked me what I felt about how whitewashed American history was in front of some of the hiring partners. Conversation literally went on for about 30~ minutes or so; one of the most awkward experiences of my life. Meant to blog about it. Today, a female partner went on today about a nonprofit she's involved with that arranges a homestay-ish program for urban youth-- Black/Hispanic youth, I understood. So, she essentially described the kid she took in for six summers-- poor, afraid of dogs, couldn't swim, single mom, HUD/Section 8 housing. The entire time she and another partner are clutching their pearls, gasping over how unfortunate the kid is and how proud she is that the kid was able to graduate from HS. The entire time, I'm thinking, you just described my entire fucking life. I am that damn kid. And then I wonder if they know that my life story is the same ~tragic ghetto kid's~ or if it's not visible from my resume or if it even matters.

That aside...back to today and gayness.

So, after the event with the partner, I go to a bar in Boston-- I'm ordering a drink. I notice four gay dudes. Two blacks, two whites, arguing. One of the Black gays is a friend, holding back the other. I'm not entirely sure what's going on. Next thing I know, one of the white dudes insults the Black dude and says something like, "your friend's a fucking chimpanzee" to my friend. And I'm just sort of struck, I guess. Next thing you know, my friend stops holding back the other black guy and there's almost fisticuffs.

It's funny, because people complain about Boston being racist, and I usually reply with handwaving. Any place's "racist" if you look for it-- people who say insensitive things or don't but think insensitive things are everywhere. So, if you meet the wrong person, you'll think Boston's racist-- it's all a numbers game. This was one of the first experiences I had in Boston that was this overt.

Anyway, the rest of the night was interesting. I've already decided that both off the white guys will never exist in my mind, no matter how many times I see them. But then I start thinking: this is how Black gay men become bitter.

The white guys were cute-- I'd seen one of them before; he was funny. He reminded me of some of my other friends. But I think the experience, and particularly his backpedaling and almost-apologies afterwards, sort of helped me remember one of the reasons I found making friends with gay white men difficult: because I often had suspicions about what they really thought. Whether it be the, "I'm not racist, but I don't date Black guys" comments, or the random foot-in-mouth insensitive statements that I found being made...very often, I find that I sometimes can#039;t trust white gay guys. Or, rather, that I sometimes don't know what they're thinking. I'm always wondering if they secretly have thoughts that I'm inferior or worthless or something. Actually, this experience echoes my relationship with a lot of white people that aren't my friends that I've encountered in general-- I've become more aware of it because of college and law school. When my White compatriots at Tufts wrote a carol about how Tufts would accept Black D students because they were Black, and when I encountered White law students online opining about Affirmative Action and Black students being at the bottom of the grade curve. It's like you're living a life of double talk: people that smile in your face, but who knows what they think.

This is obviously not true of my relationships with all of my White friends and I'm thankful for the meaningful ones I've made. Despite what i'm talking about, i'll still be working in predominantly white firm (hopefully), go to predominantly white bars, and have predominantly white friends/associates. But I'd be lying if I were to say that I were not at least somewhat suspicious at times. And multiply these incidents over years I'd time, and it only gets worse. Actually, what I guess I just described is paranoia. I am paranoid.

And then I think about gay black men. Is it really that much better? Between the deceit, the nonsense, the segmentedness, the being cheated on[haha, something I now understand very well], the mental disconnect-- why even bother?

And I can't say my experience with gay Asians has been that much better.

So, anyway, what are you left with? The beautiful alone.

And so, I was going through a lot of this tonight in my mind and I thought-- this is how Gay Black Men become bitter. When you realize that none of your major target demographics actually value you and the BS you have to deal with day in, day out. On top of everything else that being a black man in this country means.

And all I can think of is exactly why I wanted to move to China. Race relations in America are toxic. But more appropriate is that quote from Dominique Francon from The Fountainhead that I've always loved:

"You know, it's such a peculiar thing--our idea of mankind in general. We all
have a sort of vague, glowing picture when we say that, something solemn, big
and important. But actually all we know of it is the people we meet in our
lifetime. Look at them. Do you know any you'd feel big and solemn about? There's
nothing but housewives haggling at pushcarts, drooling brats who write dirty
words on the sidewalks, and drunken debutantes. Or their spiritual equivalent.
As a matter of fact, one can feel some respect for people when they suffer. They
have a certain dignity. But have you ever looked at them when they're enjoying
themselves? That's when you see the truth. Look at those who spend the money
they've slaved for--at amusement parks and side shows. Look at those who're rich
and have the whole world open to them. Observe what they pick out for enjoyment.
Watch them in the smarter speak-easies. That's your mankind in general. I don't
want to touch it."

I don't want to touch it.

Find Your Love.

2011-07-14T04:24:00.001-07:00

A friend reminded me that I used to be a blogger and I should get back into it. Thanks, Colton!

I want to apologize. With work for the summer, twitter, and my petty relationship/school drama, things get so hectic.

So, I thought about what to blog about and what to even title this thing. There's Casey Anthony. There's general thoughts on business models that I want to try out.[It's interesting. At this point, I feel as if I'm either going to follow the traditional law firm model or I'm going to try to do something crazy, like become a writer or start a business. Sink or swim.]

And then I thought about this. The meds won for this entry.

Now, I may not have explained this before, but I used to do HIV prevention at a Boston non-profit organization for men of color-- primarily, Black & Latino men who have sex with men. It was interesting time. Being a gay Black man myself, I stay on top of updates in the HIV prevention field.

So, recently, there's been news about antiretroviral medication used to treat HIV can be taken by uninfected people who are exposed to HIV during sex to reduce infection risk by as high as 73% for hetereosexuals and up to 90% for men who have sex with men. This is a huge finding.

Now, to get a little personal: I just got an HIV test yesterday. I generally like to get tested once a quarter, just to stay on top of things, but the general recommendation is once a year. Get tested! It's important.

And, anyway, if these studies are accurate, I can only imagine how this is going to change the prevention field.

So, read the link, etc.

Hope everyone is doing well. Might do a more personal post in the near future, but I'm clearly an inconsistent writer. Would you hold it against me? ;).

Osama is dead.

2011-05-01T20:11:00.000-07:00

Just thought it was deserving of a blog entry.

Ten years later, the US forces finally got him.

System's end

2011-01-23T12:09:00.000-08:00

So, it's been a month, but I wanted to update with this tidbit that I was reading about on Above the Law, a law gossip site.

The story is here: link.

The number of first-time test-takers for the December LSAT went down 16%, which is very exciting! I recommend all of my friends to not apply to law school, so anything pointing to a decrease in law school admission is a good thing.

To be honest, though, I do think my entering law school wasn't a bad choice, though probably not the best one. I was a listless college senior with no real marketable skills, hated the nonprofit work I was doing, and wanted to make a lot of money. I was seduced by law schools with their median incomes and their fee waivers. Regardless, I didn't think very hard about the decision to go to law school which definitely was not a good idea.

The smartest thing to do would have been to apply to a master's program like I'd originally planned or go back to China for a while. But I was seized with this bizarre sense of urgency, that I needed to get it down immediately, that if I'd sat down I wouldn't get back up to go to school.

And now I'm halfway done with law school.

Anyway, I lucked out somehow with how things have been going, but any sign that people aren't going so eagerly into the law school game is a good thing, IMO. The market is still correcting itself and it's really tough. I remember being so idealistic about international law and getting published...somehow I lost that when I encountered the 1L grade curve. Haha.

Trying to get it back now.

Anyway, things have been good thus far. Maybe I'll go to the gym today.

Later, guys.

I don't want to touch it.

2010-12-27T19:25:00.001-08:00

So, I decided to read the Fountainhead. Not as quoteworthy as Atlas Shrugged so far, but there's one quote I wanted to get down before I continued, from Domonique Francon:

"You know, it's such a peculiar thing--our idea of mankind in general. We all
have a sort of vague, glowing picture when we say that, something solemn, big
and important. But actually all we know of it is the people we meet in our
lifetime. Look at them. Do you know any you'd feel big and solemn about? There's
nothing but housewives haggling at pushcarts, drooling brats who write dirty
words on the sidewalks, and drunken debutantes. Or their spiritual equivalent.
As a matter of fact, one can feel some respect for people when they suffer. They
have a certain dignity. But have you ever looked at them when they're enjoying
themselves? That's when you see the truth. Look at those who spend the money
they've slaved for--at amusement parks and side shows. Look at those who're rich
and have the whole world open to them. Observe what they pick out for enjoyment.
Watch them in the smarter speak-easies. That's your mankind in general. I don't
want to touch it."

Feels a little privileged, but the last sentences stuck out to me.

The Fountainhead is good, but I'm thinking that I've outgrown Rand. She's so heavy-handed and preachy that everything feels predictable, even if I do like her preaching. I wonder if I'd like Atlas Shrugged as much if I reread it.

Anyway, I'm only about 20% in, so I've got quite a ways to go. Expect a fuller entry later.

Hope everyone's having a good holiday!

Addendum...

2010-12-14T18:14:00.000-08:00

I meant to say that part of the reason I like this song might have to do with my discovery that I am not entirely over my ex.

But that's a post for another time-- I should probably wait until I reestablish a reader base before I start whining about my screwy love life again, yes/yes?

Glad you agree.

Someone needs to do my Bankruptcy exam. Really.

I don't believe in studying

2010-12-14T18:00:00.000-08:00

So, another idea I had while I was not thinking about Section 362 of the Bankruptcy Code was that I should make blog entries about party ideas.

As a lifelong student of Top 40 music, gay party culture, whiskey and generally messiness, I think this might actually be a good idea.

This post was inspired by my love for Ke$ha's song, "The Harold Song." I normally don't pay Ke$ha much attention, though I do like much of her music-- one of the posters on ONTD described her as a troll in the music industry. Pretty accurate, actually: besides being white, she isn't rail thin or super toned, isn't incredibly attractive. She's just a messy white girl who sing-raps about melodrama and hard liquor: my type of girl.[Though, I do think some of her lyrics on the current album have been transphobic...I might have to do another post about that]

Anyway, I want to have a Ke$ha party. Her song, "The Harold Song" from Cannibal is downright addictive. Now, when I'm "studying", I like to have songs on repeat-- Taylor Swift is generally the unfortunate victim. Lady Gaga, Chiddy Bang, Rihanna, and Shakira have been other victims, so it's actually an honor.

The Harold Song is very different from Tik Tok/We R Who We R. It's more Katy Perry, I guess-- pseudo-introspective, full of youthful melancholy, etc. Maybe it's even like what I used to like about Gaga-- post-modern, tongue-in-cheek.[Except, I don't think Ke$ha pulls it off as well.] I'll post the lyrics at the end of the post.

Anyway, point is: I love this song. And I want to have a Ke$ha party but I'm not sure what that would entail. Animal prints? Glow in the dark face paint? Eagle feathers? None of that sounds very fun. I just want to put my hands up, do shots of tequila and pose for pictures with beautiful people. Can't wait until school is over.

Yes, that will be my Ke$ha party. I also have to think about locale. I don't think the fabulous people of Michigan will appreciate it, unfortunately. And I don't know how my mother feels about having a Ke$ha party at her house over break.

Maybe I'll coop someone's house. Sounds like a plan, Jan!

Okay, lyrics and back to pretending to study. GO!

--

I miss your soft lips. I miss your white sheets.
I miss the scratch of your un-shaved face on my cheek.
And this is so hard cause I didn't see
that you were the love of my life and it kills me.
I see your face in strangers on the street.
I still say your name when I'm talking in my sleep.
And in the limelight, I play it off fine.
But I can't handle it when I turn off my night light.
[Ah]
But I can't handle it when I turn off my night light.
[Ah]

Chorus:
They say that true love hurts, well this could almost kill me.
Young love murder, that is what this must be.
I would give it all to not be sleeping alone.

The life is fading from me while you watch my heart bleed.
Young love murder, that is what this must be.
I would give it all to not be sleeping alone.

Verse:
Remember the time we jumped the fence when
the Stones were playing and we were too broke to get in.
You held my hand and then made me cry while
I swore to God it was the best night of my life.
Or when you took me across the world, we
promised that this will last forever but now I see.

It was my past life, a beautiful time
Drunk off of nothing but each other till the sun rise.
[Ah]
Drunk off of nothing but each other till the sun rise.

Chorus:
They say that true love hurts, well this could almost kill me.
Young love murder, that is what this must be.
I would give it all to not be sleeping alone.

The life is fading from me while you watch my heart bleed.
Young love murder, that is what this must be.
I would give it all to not be sleeping alone.

Bridge:
It was a past (he was a past life) life, a beautiful time.
Drunk off of nothing but each other till the sun rise. [Till the sun rise.]

Chorus:
They say that true love hurts, well this could almost kill me.
Young love murder, that is what this must be.
I would give it all to not be sleeping alone.

The life is fading from me while you watch my heart bleed.
Young love murder, that is what this must be.
I would give it all to not be sleeping alone.

I should be studying...

2010-12-14T16:10:00.000-08:00

But, short break.

Hey guys. Just thought I'd showcase another reason why I'm a misanthrope.

The comments are from Queerty's entry on Cassidy here

Couple of things.

1. How delusional is commenter #6, Hank? Hip Hop no longer relevant-- have you looked at an album sales chart? A singles chart? Even as I type, 2 of the top ten albums are Hip Hop albums.[3 if we count Black Eyed Peas]

Also, conflation of hip hop and increased risk of death...classy.

2. Commenter #8, 2 Cents, equally or more delusional than Hank. Baseless conclusions about hip hop audiences[I should really make a critical post on Radiohead/Led Zeppelin/Pink Floyd, honestly; some of the dumbest drones I know rattle them off whenever talking about their favorites].

Clearly, this person has also been listening to too much conservative talk radio and not enough hip hop. Gang bangs? Victim mentality? Popular hip hop, not so much.

And LOL @ coming at the legitimacy of sampling as an art form. And what should they be doing, getting inspiration from older guitar riffs?

Sit the fuck down.

Now, as a troll who's been wreaking havoc on the internet since dialup, I understand the "Idungiveafuk" mentality people get when their fingers hit the keys, but I guess as I get older, I get more critical of these sorts of views.

Honestly, I think what bothers me more is that the posters are probably white, probably gay, probably "liberal" and incredibly annoying. Posters like Tweedledee and Tweedledum are rife throughout the internet spouting their nonsensical opinions based on poorly formed arguments. Yawn yawn. Exactly why gossip blogs and I have such a love-hate-but-mainly-hate relationship.

Honestly, maybe I should do this more often.

Anyway, I should get to Bankruptcy law at some point...ugh.

I dreamt about making this blog updated-on-the-daily. Haha. Maybe I will when school's done. Maybe.

Hope everything's going well! If anyone still reads this thing?
Deuces.

Tweet, Tweet.

2010-11-07T12:22:00.000-08:00

I was going to blog about Halloween, but I forgot my iphone cord-- so I can't upload photos. Disappoint.

I was on twitter a little while ago and a friend of mine posted this article:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/39993685/ns/health-womens_health/?ocid=twitter

I thought it was well-intended, but was sort of annoyed by it for the most part. So I thought I'd go through it on here.

First of all, the title is "Blacks struggle with 72 percent unwed mothers rate." I suppose we're entering this conversation with the opinion that high rates of unwed motherhood are bad. As a matter of fact, I have no idea what that tagline even means-- I had no idea we were struggling with this unwed motherhood rate. What does that even mean?

Anyway.

There's a OB-GYN that's quoted in the article, Dr. Natalie Caroll. She delivers this quote:

"The girls don't think they have to get married. I tell them children deserve a mama and a daddy. They really do," Carroll says from behind the desk of her office, which has cushioned pink-and-green armchairs, bars on the windows, and a wooden "LOVE" carving between two African figurines. Diamonds circle Carroll's ring finger.

I think what struck me about this was the obviously gendered way of talking about the conversation. Children deserve mothers and fathers? What does that even mean?

Not that I'm opposed to the dual-parent agenda, but I'm not sure why we're entering the conversation this way besides weird biases. Kids deserve quality parenting. I don't know whether that means a mother and a father.

"A mama can't give it all. And neither can a daddy, not by themselves," Carroll says. "Part of the reason is because you can only give that which you have. A mother cannot give all that a man can give. A truly involved father figure offers more fullness to a child's life."

This just seems like she's blowing smoke out of her ass.

One parent simply doesn't have the time/resources to give to a child that that parent + another would be able to give-- I might be able to buy that. I don't know why a mother can't give all that a man can-- Don't know what this means. What can a man give to a child that a woman can't?

I might not disagree re: involved father figures, but one can have father figures without a father present.

"The reaction was swift and ferocious. She had many supporters, but hundreds of others attacked NWNW online as shallow, anti-feminist, lacking solutions, or a conservative tool. "

Really. I wonder why.

--

So that was a pretty quick, angled reading of the article. I thought the article was written poorly and will stay away from articles by Jesse Washington in the future.[Then again, I don't recall much of what's written on MSNBC being well-written...so.]

RE: the comments about the author Mrs. Karazin's writing being a conservative tool...I don't know.

It's clear she has an agenda-- that she is pro-mother-and-father families. Which is completely fine. What isn't fine, though, is that her rationalization for it is based on complete tripe.

What I like about conservatives is that, generally, I don't get the feeling that they're hiding the ball all of the time. Instead of this undercover, poorly reasoned stuff.

--

Anyway, first long entry in a while. Excuse me for not spelling a lot of things out or being clearer.

At the library, gonna try to get some work done. Long day, long night.

Deuces.

Remembrance of Time Past

2010-10-30T16:33:00.001-07:00

So, as it generally does happen, I am back.

It's been a pretty emotional couple of weeks. I don't know why Octobers are usually so crazy. But they are.

Anyway, I am quite possibly the most disrespectful writer that there is. But I'm coming to terms with that.

I'll be writing a longer entry tomorrow. Probably gonna work out a bit, have some wine, before I go to do some karaoke for a friend's birthday.

I think I missed this, the catharsis.

Much love.

Crucifixes, gnawing on my neck

2010-05-21T13:02:00.001-07:00

I've been restless for what feels like ages, but it's only been approximately two weeks.

Finals are over. Finished my craptastic write-on: for those who had the common sense not to go to law school, the "write-on" refers to the amazing writing application process in which 1Ls try to write onto one of the law journals at school.

Lawyers and upperclass students tell us journal status is necessary, and I suppose that should be gospel for us 1Ls who just want to make it into biglaw[read: one of the fabulous law firms where you make tons of money and have little time to spend it]. Maybe I'll write about my feelings about the law in a bit. Deserves several posts.

I finished that process on Monday, barely making it to a midnight post-office, and have been brain dead ever since. Reading stuff at Top Law Schools and beating myself up over not having good grades, and really just wanting to lie around. And watch Chinese TV.

--
I was somewhere, though, somewhere online. And I remembered a conversation I was having with a friend, Adaora, about Avatar, the movie. Of all things, eh? I'm not a fan of the movie, and think it's pretty much a rip of Ferngully/Dances with Wolves/WHATEVER-- white man goes to native land, falls in love with the native girl, becomes a hero, etc. Of course, there're other qualities that make Avatar stand out-- the cinematographic brilliance, the relation it has to the current state of affairs, the environmental themes[I guess? I seem to also recall some animal hunting, but my memory's off], and of course that it's been able to capture the hearts and minds of so many people.

To be honest, I'd rather leave the film conversations to the actual professionals-- I'm just a layman and I'm very simple. In fact, I'm worse than a layman: I don't like movies. The total number of movies I actually enjoyed watching probably hovers around 15-20-- everything else has my lost my attention at one point or another. So, I'm a bad example.

The last movie I enjoyed in a movie theatre was probably Revolutionary Road, and that's because it's very faithful to the book.

Anyway, in the conversation, we were going back and forth, and at some point something comes up about "an African perspective", and that I and an African-American female who also disliked Avatar "didn't get it." "It" being a referent to the African perspective, or her perspective as an African, or what an average African would think about the movie, or whatever it is that she meant. I asked for an explanation, but she refused, at which point I suppose any meaningful line of conversation on that line broke down.

I was angry about it: it felt like a copout for someone who couldn't explain her point well enough. Bring up some identity issue that clearly disables your opponent from rebuttal-- all smoke and mirrors for a weak position. But, I think one thing I've learned is that people from underrepresented groups are not required to educate the ignorant masses[ie: me] about whatever misunderstandings we have. We need to educate ourselves; this burden shifting to the people with knowledge on the subject[ie: Adaora] is unfair and a vestige of privilege. Or so the liberals would say.

I think it's because I can understand this line of protest that I didn't write off her entire argument as rubbish.

It did have me thinking about African identity though, and that is a good thing.
--

Now, I think I've been a bit naive about "black." Actually, I think I'm naive about nomenclature in general-- liberals like to make a big deal about the power of words, the attachments they have, all that jazz. This is when my conservative impulse kicks in and I start to say "f*ck it", but I can somewhat get it, even if I'm not persuaded. The issues with "queer" or "gay" for example-- the images they're associated with, or whatever gripes people apparently have with the terms.

ETA: Actually, I suppose it is persuasive as I think about it: there's probably a deserved anger at being coopted into a movement that doesn't even recognize that you exist, pretends to tell your story even though it has nothing to do with you and refuses to engage you while subsuming you. I was being overly being derisive; this is very persuasive. I guess I'm not entirely convinced that nomenclature rejection is the way out, but. But.

I guess I've been similarly under the interpretation that Black wasn't really an objectionable term. If you have a drop of Black blood, you're Black. Of course, self-identification is a component, but this reclassification of people with mixed ancestry as something other than...Black is a revision of Black history and ignores the fact that Black people are and have been mixed for centuries.

Anyway. A definition with the term it defines in the definition, how useful is that? Black, I thought, was African ancestry of some sort-- whatever that means. There, catchall.

Of course, nomenclature issues. I think I've vaguely been aware of the fact that there are people who fit my understanding who don't identify as Black, and I've been trying to brainstorm as to why. One of the reasons is the more obvious one that I've known for a while-- African Americans are pathetic, to speak harshly. The lack of education, the health afflictions, the incarceration rates, ghetto culture, the current state of hip-hop and the negative impression we apparently leave upon every other demographic in this country.

Fine. I get that.

I imagine another is that "Black" as a movement, term, or whatever, is a fiction created by African Americans. I guess what I mean is that non-African-American-African-descended people["NAADP"] might be hostile to being subsumed into Black because they have had very little part in its construction. It was invented by African-Americans, largely discusses the African American experience[whatever that is? Neither am I sure of its veracity], and makes no reference to the lives that NAAADP people live. It's based on an American conception of race that most of the world doesn't even acknowledge, so the entire point of view of some greater "Black" diaspora is invalid.[Though, I'd imagine a Pan-African something or other would have more credence]

Or maybe that it's presumptuous-- should we all just identify as African instead?

Alright, I'm losing clarity and this entry is being unwieldy for me to continue a proper discussion. The point is: Black is simple. I assumed there was an automatic concession that the Black experience is varied and complicated, but that may be false. I imagine African-African-American relations must also play some part-- ignorance on both sides, whatever. I certainly remember some of the horrible things my classmates said about a classmate who came from Kenya when I was in middle school. Though, they were mainly Caribbean-American, so...is that a different issue?

Another reason I wanted to move to China: Americans, including the immigrants who move here, are so touchy for one reason or another. Didn't really have any issues with the Tanzanians and the Ethiopians I hung with, but I also didn't identify them as Black, at least out loud. So maybe that made things easier? We didn't really need a conversation about race.

These conversations, man. To quote Ke$hia: "Blah blah blah."

Sorry, also: the quality of this entry is much lower than I expected, but my computer also crashed and I lost most of what I originally wrote, so. I'll try to keep things at a higher standard as I get back into the swing of things.

Deuces.

In memorium.

2010-02-24T13:30:00.000-08:00

I just found out my great-grandmother died recently, and so I tried to write something in her honor. Nothing really captures how great of a person she was, but I thought it was the least I could do.

--
"Lucille"

My fingers snap green beans,
Forcing them from their pods,
Nectar spilling and staining
my fingers.
The mark of a good woman was
Her ability to drown in these juices at every meal,
To kiss the kitchen floor with her feet
And bless the pots with her biceps,
To inhale the dust from every fabric in her house
With her wrists. And to hold her breath and drown.
I was always an adept swimmer.
I was the type of woman who was indifferent to the stream,
To the moral fibers not within my chest,
A lone fragment, pliant but weathered.
Mulberry lips and sharp knuckles,
Eyes colored from the cotton fields,
Eyes colored from the human heart.
I was the type of woman
To kiss thunder and pray in the snow,
Knobby knees on frozen asphalt,
In silent worship of the woman named
Lucille.

--

Rest, great-grandma. I love you and hope you've found peace.

Topaz Tobbogans

2010-02-17T07:53:00.000-08:00

So, as I'm sure I've mentioned, I tend to always have some problem or another with car pools or otherwise riding with people.

A friend of mine here, a classmate, has been giving me rides for most of the semester but last week told me she wouldn't be able to. I went back to the bus. Yesterday, though, she told me it would be cool to ride with her again but when I got there[approximately the same time we usually left], she was already gone.

I'm not entirely sure what to make of it, but it was at the very least frustrating. All I can really recollect are the feelings once I get there and realize I have no way to get to class. How much this reminds me of last semester, of high school, of the helplessness and feelings of distress. And then I think that if only I knew how to drive, or if I didn't depend on people as much as I did, this wouldn't be happening to me over and over. I clearly must enjoy this.

Anyway, so I called cab after cab since no one apparently knows how to get one in less than a half hour to arrive at my place. Finally got one. And then, because I was waiting near the high way, I saw a mentor from the Black Law Student Association; he and his ladyfriend gave me ride to school. Literally a Godsend. I was sort of befuddled and tired but I think I managed to express my gratitude.

Point is. I will be going back to taking the bus until I get my license. It's the same story over and over and I'm really the only one responsible for getting myself to class everyday.

I wish I had a transporter.
--

I also wanted to blog about first degree murder and risk-taking in the law.

I was recently called on in my Criminal Law class to talk about Midgett v. State. Midgett v. State was a case about a father of two or so children who abused his son to death. The guy was 6 feet, 300 lbs; his son was 45 lbs, all of eight years old. Abused him for a substantial amount of time; eventually the blunt force trauma that he delivered caused the kid's death. There was also discoloration and signs of malnourishment on the boy. The sister testified that the father was a drinker and that she saw the dad hit the boy.

Now, the primary difference in Arkansas between 1st and 2nd degree murder convictions is that 1st requires evidence of premeditation/deliberation. Midgett countered that there was no evidence showing that; rather, he only wanted to abuse his child. And even if he did have an intent to kill, it was developed in a "drunken, heated rage", which I imagine should negate the premeditation requirement and drop him to 2nd degree.

The court ruled, correctly I think, that there was no ground for 1st degree murder. While Midgett starved the kid, he didn't starve the kid to death. And while he beat him, I don't think any of us who don't have formal physiological training generally know how much abuse a human body can take before the person actually dies-- I could easily conceive of the guy thinking he would hit the kid until he vented all of his frustration without any expectation of the kid's death.

Premeditation requires some showing that before beating the boy to death, Midgett at least contemplated or realized the likelihood of the boy's death. Nothing really here besides the fact that a father, albeit a horrible, drunken one, enjoyed hitting his child with excessive force.

Be that as it may, the description was pretty graphic and I have no doubt that I would have voted for 1st degree murder for Midgett. This was apparently astounding to my Criminal Law professor. As she made me engage with her in typical socratic method fashion, she asked about my feelings about the decision and I explained that essentially jurors are probably unsympathetic to what are really errors on the part of lawmakers-- had there been a law on the books that causing death in the act of abusing a child qualifies as 1st degree murder, then he could have been correctly convicted. Because there was no such law, jurors were being forced to choose a lesser sentence in spite of the egregious circumstances. I definitely would have chose to convict for 1st degree murder not for actually satisfying the formal requirements but for the expressive purpose: as an expression of society's condemnation, it only makes sense to deliver the highest punishment available to Midgett.

This was apparently bewildering. A jurist not following the rules?

Anyway, there was more socratic method, and she asked me about why defendants ask for jury instruction on lesser sentences when they might just get acquitted[I'd explain, but it'd probably take a while], I only became more convinced of another point: regardless of whatever thinkers like to tell themselves, the explanations in law casebooks and given by professors is not realistic. In fact, I'd say most of the discussion we go through is more or less fiction-- I don't actually think lawyers think the reasoning is actually valid, do they? In fact, I'd say most of the justifications/policy discussions around law are really just mental acrobatics.

It's really just like philosophy, another field divorced from reality.

So, while it's all interesting and I do think there's insight to be gained, I'm not particularly convinced of the policy reasons behind a lot of law, and when I engage in discussions with my professors, I'm always wondering if they actually believe what they're telling me or if we just learn it just because.

I guess that makes me a skeptic.

Alright...Post Office in a little while in the job scramble.

A little bird showed me

2010-02-16T17:31:00.001-08:00

The title's from one of my recent artist addictions, Jose James; he's featured on a song, "Little Bird", from Jazzanova. Really beautiful piece; the combination of the instruments in the background and his smooth voice really created a nice song. I sent it to the boyfriend as a testament to my feelings.

Give it a listen when you get a chance.

--
Again, trying to give up top-40. I'll try to include more music that I'm listening to.

Let's see. I'm in the library right now. I have a to-do list of things to do but when I start any one thing-- I never know how to finish it. For example, driving. That deserves a series of posts on its own merits, but. In my efforts to actually get my license at some point, I'm trying to finish the last hour of my lessons. No instructor seems to be responding to my call. I'm not sure whether or not word has spread around this desolate little Michigan town that I am the worst driving student known to man, but. The point is, no one takes my call, and it stays on my to-do list. My to-do list grows larger.

I think I'm just going to set up a road test like I said I would and keep taking it until I pass.

I know I said I'd talk re: DADT[Don't Ask Don't Tell] but more recently, an article was passed around on the LGBTQ listserv at UMich Law that state rep Paul Scott here in Michigan is "[making it a priority it a priority to ensure transgender individuals will not be allowed to change the sex on their driver’s license in any circumstance."

Typical obfuscatory politics.

To be honest, I'm not entirely sure what issues Mr. Scott could bring up, but there are certainly more pressing ones than “preventing people who are males genetically from dressing as a woman and going into female bathrooms.”

It's this typical sort of fear-mongering that's characteristic of Republican politics that disappoints me so much with their leadership. Even if Dems are nutty, Republicans leave you very little choice. Minus the Tea Party stuff...but I can discuss that in another entry.

Anyway, there are anti-discrimination laws in place against gender disphoria, which qualifies as a disability, but Mr. Scott doesn't believe he'll run afoul of them. I guess.

Source is here.

Next entry will probably be about some of the things we discuss in Criminal Law/Civil Procedure/Constitutional Law. Might do one tonight. Who knows~

RE:: Phoenicians and Lengthy Light Years

2010-02-02T12:56:00.000-08:00

So, this is something like my return.

In a short review, I have given up or at least strictly limited my participation in everything dear to me. These things are:

--comic books
--comic book forums
--facebook
--other forums
--ONTD/gossip websites
--Engadget/most blog sites

In exchange, I'll probably start blogging about law stuff all of the time in an attempt to become a better law student.

In class now, but I'll start blogging about the potential repeal of Don't Ask, Don't Tell in a bit. Hope to update you guys as well relatively soon, for those who still follow.

Much love,
Steven

Houston...

2009-10-30T11:32:00.000-07:00

...we've got a problem.

When it gets to the point that I'm bawling after a driving lesson, there's probably an issue.

I'm not entirely sure why I'm so self-critical, or why even writing this on a public computer at the law school is bringing me to tears, but it needs to stop. I don't entirely understand it-- even fumbling a bit in class today in front of all of my classmates when I obviously didn't adequately know the reading wasn't as emotionally draining.

I don't know why I break myself down in the way that I do, but hopefully I'll learn to stop.

I get it. I am a bad driver when thousands of 16 year olds do this stuff in their sleep. And yes, I know, I know-- experience, not everyone picks it up as fast, whatever. Yes, my driver is an overly smarmy 50something who talks to me as if I am a child, further exacerbating my rage at myself.

And then I beat myself up even further for being crazy/not manning up/not being able to go out in public without breaking out into tears. It never ends! I am my cruelest enemy.

My shirt is practically drenched with sweat. My head hurts. Like, what is all this!? And it wasn't even *that* bad-- I mean, I drove, got berated a bunch of times, same old same old.

Blah. Happy Halloween!

[I swear, there's a lot of good stuff to write about; I'll eventually sit down and do that at some point.]

And if you've got room.

2009-10-22T19:29:00.001-07:00

If there is something I am tired of hearing, it is, "this is too hard for me."

Boo hoo hoo.

I have just about exhausted my fucking sympathy.

Oh, distance, you will be the death of me. Three times now! I must be a slow learner. It might actually be time for me to close the heart off for good.

We'll see how things go. But I'm prepared.

Another breakup-makeup post. Haven't done those in a while.

[See? I am back. Sort of.

If you've got room.]

He regresado.

2009-08-04T07:00:00.000-07:00

I suppose that means I'm back.

I've been thinking of how much I missed blogging-- surprise, surprise. Maybe I just needed a reprieve? Anyway. I thought I would start a new blog but reviving this one makes sense, too.

And here we are.

I'll give something like a recap of the past few months later. For now, I'll talk about the first news article I came across on Google News-- a police officer from Boston getting suspended because of his email.

The case is, of course, related to Henry Louis Gates. It turns out Sputnik years and years ago was, also, related to Henry Louis Gates-- EVERYTHING is related to HLG. To be honest, I was tired of the story as soon as I first heard it. I do not understand why everyone feels like talking about it-- feels like a trap, if there ever was one. Anyway, the story does not really interest me in the slightest, though I do argue for a certain interpretation usually when the issue is brought up...just to stir the pot.

Apparently, Justin Barrett, an officer from the Boston Police Department, wrote about Gates and the incident, referring to Gates as a, "jungle monkey." Whereas the Gates incident[Or Gatesgate!?] was muddled with elitism, politics, and other nonsense that makes the case really more of a distraction and waste of resources than a true front to expose[and hopefully combat] racism, this one is much more clear cut.

There are two issues. First, or the one that I first thought about, was the issue of privacy. Barrett's statement wasn't verbal-- it was via email. To be honest, this part seems fishy-- was it his hotmail account or was it the Boston PD account? Is the BPD now refitting the Patriot Act to look for emails from terrorists AND racists? I do not know. The Boston Globe also has this to say about Menino: "The mayor said he has not seen the e-mail and while the officer is not officially terminated, he might as well be. 'He’s gone - g-o-n-e. I don’t care, it’s like cancer, you don’t keep those cancers around.’"

A little early, I think, to say that type of thing without having seen the eMail.

But, it seems like Barrett hasn't denied the email itself, but has rather been going after the second issue: that it isn't racist. Wait, what? Yeah, me too.

Besides the history 'jungle monkey' has as a racial epithet used to describe Black people in this country...yeah, not going to fly. He also claims that he "didn't intend to offend anyone", which seems like a fishy statement. The words are obviously offensive. It may not have been his intent to do so, but he knew that there was reasonable likelihood that they would. In this type of case, his intentions aren't so important.

Do I think he should get fired? I don't know. I find it weird, the standard we hold policemen and policewomen to. Do they even get paid that much? Do they deserve the smearing that they get? This sort of fearmongering might not be healthy, in the long run. Probably already isn't. Might engender more discontent among the police force and further ruin relations between the Boston Black community and the BPD. And apparently Barrett has no disciplinary record in his two years being on the force. And he might get fired in the following weeks for an email?

I thought something more reasonable might have been suspension with mandatory training, or something other. Even Crowley isn't getting fired. Do we really need to add to the unemployment line?

So, no, he probably shouldn't be getting fired. Oh well.

This is Boston.

Later, folks.

A cause des garcons.

2009-01-06T18:35:00.000-08:00

Talk about inconsistent.

I decided something close to a few weeks ago that life is much better when I don't take myself so seriously & feel the need to comment on it all the time.

I also have an internet dependency...surprise, surprise.

And so, I'm trying with limited success to...get over that. You know, 2009, all that.

Limited success.

Very excited that my college career is about to end. Need a change of scene.

Currently, busy pretending to finish all of my applications for Law/Grad schools. Took my GREs last week. Reaching for the stars, hoping one falls within reach.

I might change blog addresses & give up olashorty altogether, due to circumstances that you can probably guess. One of the difficulties of keeping a blog relatively public, I guess.

Due to my falling in love with Yelle...I am now studying French. And it's fucking fun.

Life's getting a little interesting now that I can laugh at myself more and have gotten better at disengaging.

I hope you all enjoyed your holidays & aren't too busy making trite resolutions for 2009. ;)

A CAUSE DES GARCONS.

Orange peels, covering up my heart

2008-12-07T22:05:00.000-08:00

It's odd that my lack of a love life is worth addressing nowadays?

Via conversation with my best friend:

Elle (1:04:34 AM): i must confess something...
Moi(1:04:45 AM): go ahead, my child
Elle(1:04:56 AM): i hate seeing you single
Moi (1:05:01 AM): ?
Elle (1:05:01 AM): please find a bf asap

And that is exactly why we are best friends. How I've missed her and her pow wows.

I should be working, but I gave up hours ago. I wish I could trust myself to nap and wake up at 5/6 to continue.

So less stressed now that LSATs are over. Now I just need to start GRE/fellowship stuff...

Love you long time. Hopefully I can get back to blogging soon. At least over break.
Love you long time.

Julienne cuts in my musculature

2008-12-05T21:42:00.000-08:00

I realize I haven't posted in an awful long time.

It's been hella busy around these parts.

LSATs tomorrow. I generally have been content with the idea that I'm going to do horribly and can kiss my application to Columbia goodbye. But then I started reading online-- law school numbers/random forums, and I. Have been stressing.

I really need to get into grad school, take the time to actually prepare for LSATs instead of taking MAYBE five practice tests total. I've got fee waivers that last until '10...enough time.

Trying not to be cynical, but. There's just no way I'm even getting close to the ballpark.

Argh.
I can't even explain my disappointment in myself. And I really don't want the consolation-- I'd rather blame myself, for now.
Argharghargh.

Boy in my pocket, wine on my lips

2008-11-15T08:10:00.000-08:00

So, I'm gonna let people into another messy thing I do.

If there's someone who claims to be interested in me in ANY fashion, or who displays signs of such, I try to push them onto someone else.

I'm not entirely sure WHY I do it. Part of it is disinterest, or at least wanting to be disinterested, which is almost the same anyway. Another part goes back to some naive notions I have about feelings-- that if I like someone, being presented with another person won't make me change my direction, no matter how many times I've been spurned. Feelings just don't die that easily-- if they do, then they're probably illusory. I sometimes feel things should be the same for other people.

[EDIT: Actually, on reading that...I'm not so sure I agree with that anymore.]

Either way, it's hella passive aggressive and I need to stop doing that. I did it last night with two guys who were getting a little too...close-- helped them hook up, that is. And I guess it's a good thing-- no more hooking up with randoms. There's just...no point. Only making my dissatisfaction that much more tiresome.

I figure with all the travel deals and political entries, I should make a messy entry about myself.

So, I'm walking back home, looking at my shoes, wondering why I'm such a passive- aggressive idiot, talking to myself about how great it is that I hooked up two people and have no one to come home to. And so I go on with my soliloquy to my audience of one, but then I concluded that at least my new "single&fabulous" lifestyle has actually withstood the test. Studying, food, clothes, money, family/friends-- that's all I'm about right now.

Chang chang, getting paid over here.
I'm still drunk, which is why I believe this entry is so...candid.

The BEST thing about today is that I'm possibly going to get a free trip to the dining hall with some of my good friends from less-cool dorms, and that afterwards I'm gonna be brunching/studying with my new gay BFF.

He's fabulous, I'm fabulous, and his current BFF is neglectful. So I'm moving in.

I am so excited!
[Or at least I can pretend. I actually...want to punch walls and scream about what my life's become.]

GRAH.

Anyone want to go to Iceland?

2008-11-11T10:45:00.000-08:00

I bet you wish I was joking.

"it's $699 for everything from November till March for double occupancy and 5 days 4 nights instead of 4/3."

So...week vacation in Iceland with me, anyone? And the Iceland's Krona's down so it's pretty much cheap cheap city. Go while supplies last!

http://www.icelandair.us/offers-and-bookings/book-packages/package/item202501/Winter_Wellness_Getaway_in_Iceland_/

Or...Dominican Republic?
http://www.cheapcaribbean.com/core/specials/specialAvailability-cc-3258.html

Or Puerto Rico?
http://www.cheapcaribbean.com/specialAvailability.jsp?pacID=2675

And this is pretty much what I've been doing all day. Intermittently reading my illegally downloaded LSATs prep books and looking at deals on the forums slickdeals.net.

I even bought an mp3 player-- the exact same model that I bought my mom for her birthday last her. 2gig sansa. I forget what I paid for hers, but it was definitely more than mine-- $25. I mean, goodness...I spend more on alcohol. Why not. Refurbished, but the kids on slickdeals gave it a good review, so it should be safe.

It's nice not to have class.

So yeah, any takers on Iceland?
Let a brother know!

And here I thought...

2008-11-07T07:00:00.000-08:00

Most of the major neocons loved Sarah Palin.

" The choice of Sarah Palin was also a mistake. I'm talking here about its political effects, not the sideshow psychodrama of feminist rage and elite loathing that had little to do with politics and everything to do with cultural prejudices, resentments and affectations.

Palin was a mistake ("near suicidal," I wrote on the day of her selection) because she completely undercut McCain's principal case against Obama: his inexperience and unreadiness to lead. And her nomination not only intellectually undermined the readiness argument. It changed the election dynamic by shifting attention, for days on end, to Palin's preparedness, fitness and experience -- and away from Obama's. "

Source: The Campaign Autopsy, by Charles Krauthammer

Perhaps I have been overplaying Palin's popularity.
Oh well. Back to "work."

Sweet land, sore stones

2008-11-05T11:26:00.000-08:00

If there's one thing being abroad has done for me, it's given me a love for politics.

Which isn't to say I didn't enjoy politics before I left-- I did. But I only started actively reading political material outside of class after I encountered fairly antiAmerican feeling abroad.

If you'll take a break from the Obama-steria for a minute, I'd like to direct you to an article on Medvedev's state of the nation address today.

Medvedev article.

From the article:

"Mr Medvedev blamed the US for the global financial crisis, saying that the rest of the world had been "dragged down with it into recession". He claimed that the era of American domination after the collapse of the Soviet Union was now over.

'The world cannot be ruled from one capital. Those who do not want to understand this will only create new problems for themselves and others,' he said. "

That's what he thinks.
The unipolar moment has not ended. While Russia will attempt to reestablish its sphere of influence and China will continue to grow, jerkily[I'm waiting for the next food scare], Mevedev's forceful language about Washington's ability to rule the world is unconvincing.

This empire's still got time left. And I think people are gonna be surprised by how much more effective Obama's hand at it is going to be. Dominance with a smiling face, under the guise of US-directed multilaterism.

Curiously, Medvedev didn't mention Obama's victory not once. It partly seems passive agressive, partly imprudent. But I also remember a statement from Medvedev about his dissatisfaction with both candidates, so I suppose we shouldn't be surprised that he failed to mention Obama as the POTUS elect.

I cannot wait to see Obama's appointees.

II.

I think one of the most major barriers to education is knowing where to get it.
Or at least for me.

No matter how much I read DailyKos, MyDD, Powerline, and so forth, I could never catch up to the know-it-alls in my political science classes.

I think I'm getting closer.

Step one: Pundits aren't that important.
They aren't. The aforementioned may be popular, but bloggers have yet to become as influential as guys like William Kristol, Paul Krugman, etc.

Step two: Find stuff?

I'll now share what I'm trying to read.

The Economist.
Bloomberg.
The Weekly Standard.
The Council on Foreign Affairs.

As well as other things like The Drudge Report, The Telegraph, NY Times, Wall Street Journal, and the Washington Post.

Part III?
I kind of want to be a politician, after hearing about some of the voter fraud going on at home.
We'll see.

--

And these are my thoughts on a post-Obama victory day.
I'm at work.
I have a midterm in that blasted anime class today. Hopefully I do well enough to counteract my bad grade on the paper.

Later.

My President...

2008-11-05T04:30:00.000-08:00

Obama.

Now let's just hope he doesn't actually govern like a neocon, despite some of his rhetoric.

I tend to think image and prestige matter quite a bit, perhaps even more than policy in some ways, though, so. I am looking forward to being abroad in a year or so and talking to non-Americans, seeing that they can actually respect the power the US wields.

But we'll see.

I need a copy of the Weekly Standard.

"Get your life together. You have twenty-four hours."

2008-10-26T06:46:00.000-07:00

The tagline is exactly how I feel.

I was going through facebook and reliving everything that's happened over the past year. In doing so, I guess I started to remember everything I was supposed to be doing this year. My conflicted feelings over where I want to be-- China, Japan, America, Argentina. And I don't feel any closer to knowing than I was months ago.

It also turns out that a boy I tutored in China, Cyrus, is here in Boston! Which is utterly ridiculous. Well, the boy does have loads of money, so I never thought the opportunity would be an issue. But he was supposed to be doing his internship in Shanghai...yet he's already here!

I really have to go see him as soon as possible but Bank of America has refused to post my pay-check deposit so...we'll have to wait. 'Cause, when you meet up with Chinese people in your own country, you have to treat them and stuff...gotta make sure I have my financial situation together.

But back to the confusion. I really need to keep my options open. I really should be making sure my Spanish, Japanese, and Chinese are in as good a shape as they can be...and they're not, because I don't do more than what's required. So I will be studying all day today.

I also need to get to prepping for LSATs. A friend of mine got her results back and they were not good. I've been hiding from them-- hiding from everything, really, but the LSATs are the biggest. GREs are second. I will be downloading a prepbook today.

Luckily it's still early. Maybe I can get some studying done this morning before I have to do my homework.

And boy, is there homework.
--Poli Sci paper
--finish reading Haruki Murakami and making up questions[Japanese]
--prep for & take Chinese [take home] test and read the next short story
--chunks of philosophy reading & discussion board posting
--catch up in reading for my anime class

The last one might be negotiable.

Feeling really motivated, but I know how my brain works-- I'll forget soon.

And...the Velvet Rope is amazing.
Cheers.

Reification & Overtures

2008-10-22T18:04:00.000-07:00

I was really trying to put this blog on hiatus. In fact, it was a larger move of taking myself off of the internet altogether-- no more AIM, facebook, what have you.

I ultimately decided against it but...I do want to be online less.

Except for blogging.

Anyway, some things have happened in the past two weeks. The main thing is my constant stock of wine. Nowadays, I just chill around listening to Sylvain Chauveau and Janet Jackson[The Velvet Rope]. Drinking wine, relaxing, being boring. And shopping, of course.

Paycheck this Friday...hallelujah.

Had a slight altercation today with the Chinese department head today. It was hilarious. Over an eMail I sent her.

It is as follows:

Hi,

My name is Steven ******; I'm a senior at Tufts. I'm doing an independent study right now
with Li laoshi, but it's come to my attention that I'm enrolled in your section of the
independent study on SIS. I left a drop form in your box outside your door-- I was
wondering if you could sign your name on the drop section of the form? That way I can fix
everything up on SIS.

Thanks for your time.

Best,
Steven ******
--

She never responds. So I get to her office, just thinking I'll pick up the form and bounce. Instead...I get there and she proceeds to go into lecture mode.

"Why didn't you fill it out?"
"I suppose it slipped my mind. I figured I'd explain everything in the eMail."

And then she replied with some nonsense about how wrong I was for not filling it out beforehand. Fine, woman, sorry.

But then she's apparently not done-- the tone of my eMail was improper conduct. Um, what?

"As a student in an advanced level Chinese class, you should really know this sort of thing regarding Chinese culture-- you don't address a professor with 'Hi', much less once you've never met. Don't think I'm singling you out-- I had to do this with someone else the other day. But it's really disrespectful to do that...do you understand what I mean?"
"Sure. I apologize for the disrespectful tone of my eMail."
"No, you don't really get it-- it's about Chinese culture, blah blah blah."

CHICK, WHAT?

I just wanted to laugh in her face.
She was trying it. I really didn't have time for her bullshit-- I planned on just picking up the drop form, running to work. Instead...she kept me for ten minutes and made me late to admonish me on my inadequate understanding of Chinese culture.

I really couldn't believe it. For one, we've met before, albeit briefly. Two, I've eMailed professors with "Hi" before, including professors I'd yet to meet. This is the first time I've been told how grand a show of disrespect it is.

Or perhaps it's that "you don't interact with Chinese professors that way" BS.

Then she disbelieved that I was taking the Chinese class with Li laoshi, that she didn't think I was actually registered in her own section in the first place, and just unnecessary acrobatics.

I was this close to dismissing her immediately. And when I say "this", I'm pinching my index finger and my thumb together very close.

So she eventually signed my form-- I said a quick thank you and shut her door.
If I ever see that woman, it will be too soon.

Unnecessary bullshit.
--

Otherwise, things have been great.
I just made quesadillas.
And now I might try to study.

Deuces.

Clutching at my lapels, singing in my soprano

2008-10-13T06:06:00.000-07:00

Hey hey.

So apparently there's a power outage on campus.
Glad I decided to come to Jersey this weekend.

What did I do...

Well, I came home with my boss and his friend. It was...an entertaining bus ride. Then I went to the mall, chilled with my mom. Went home after we ate. Went out with Summer, Nakeefa, their partners, and Nakeefa's friend Matt.

Needless to say, I almost felt a little out of place, being single. Matt doesn't count; he's more like furniture. Anyway, we went to two bars. I wasn't carded. Talk about a let-down! All this time trying to get to 21...and I don't even get carded.

Afterward, we went to a house party that my boss invited me to. It was interesting. I wound up getting home around four.

This is Saturday.
Sunday, I go shopping. Saturday night, I apparently called a number of people-- Donald, Paul, and most interestingly of all: Jeremy. I sort of remember doing it-- I get really weak and lonely when I'm excessively drunk.

So, Jeremy got back to me yesterday. We went out shopping.

It was very simple. I was feeling awkward and trying to talk less than usual-- limited success.

This is going to be somewhat embarrassing, even moreso out of pocket, and if there were ever anything like honesty in excess, this would be it.

But. I don't like leaving important things unsaid.

It took a lot of resolve not to allow my voice to crack in his living room.

I'm unsure of what exactly my motives were-- on some level, I do think forgiveness is important. I've forgiven him insofar as I had no desire to punch him in the throat or to do something equally vicious. But I don't think I ever did-- the only violence I ever engage in is violence that hurts me. That's why I hit the door instead of the wall: because I knew the door wouldn't break.

But I should be honest with myself-- forgiveness isn't my only motivation. The other part's egoism-- that he'll say more than he already has, that he'll say that I was worth more than that, that he'll say that we should pretend it never happened, that he'll say that he missed me, just to give me the option. just to give me the option.

I suspect these are all things that he either can't or won't do.

And so I stumbled upon one of his eMails today-- actually stumbled; it wasn't intentional at all. And it was really...moving.

So, in other words: no, I'm not really okay. I still have a lot of trouble eating-- I realized this with Pablo, but when I have feelings for a guy who doesn't reciprocate, I get disgusted to with myself to the point of nausea. I guess for most people it's the converse-- girls pigging out on ice cream, what have you. I thought I'd be all better in six days, along with my hand, but it's clear that I'm actually not. I can still put on my game face, but as long as I have time to reflect, to be alone, to think-- I'll still wind up going over could have beens, would have beens, should have beens. And I realize that I shouldn't get into a rebound relationship, but otherwise, it's just me and my thoughts. Me and my thoughts.

In other words, being twenty-one sucks. Holden Caulfield had it all right.

And the messiest blog post of the year award goes to...me.
Time for a distraction. I guess that means more shopping. Or another book.

Coincidentally, I finished Water for Elephants, which was surprisingly good. Reading Age of Aquarius now. I'll give more substantial reviews later.

Let me sign off before I start embarrassing myself again.
Deuces.

Punch, I might spike it...

2008-10-12T09:15:00.001-07:00

So, in case it wasn't obvious: I am a hot mess.

It's great to be home.

Monsieur Profligate

2008-10-06T20:47:00.001-07:00

I'm going to be 21 in about 10 minutes.

Oh, my favorite day of the year. My birthday. October 7th.

I don't know if I want to celebrate it. I suppose this past week or two has just been really overwhelming for me. And I've been trying to be cool about everything but...

I wish I just had a minute to breathe.

Inadequate since 1987. But I'm working on it.
Happy 21st,
Steven.

In lieu of real discussion...

2008-10-05T15:54:00.000-07:00

...I thought we should discuss this photo.

The article on Beyonce's immense skill follows.

http://www.hiphoproll.com/kanye-west-finally-beats-beyonce-at-connect-4/

From the article:

Apparently Beyonce is quite the champion at the game Connect 4. Kanye West on the other hand always wants to be the champion. So they played over and over again until he finally won. The game that lasted nine rounds before Beyonce eventually folded.

I'm surprised he didn't throw a tantrum and rip out Bee's extensions.

Anyway. Discuss.
Who among you can beat Beyonce at Connect Four?

Pocketbook video

2008-10-05T09:45:00.001-07:00

This is low-quality and there's no video, but here's Pocketbook:

Too bad everyone on Youtube thinks it's lame. =(

The Crimson King

2008-10-05T08:45:00.000-07:00

So, I have a new computer. And since I am addicted to computers, getting a new one is like being reincarnated.

Just went out, put a computer on my debit...so nice to have money.

WIRELESS. Playing DVDs without major jerk. Downside is Vista, though.

So, the deal is: yesterday morning, my slightly tipsy ass is waking up. I sleep with my laptop in my bed next to me. I stretch as I wake up; my computer crashes off of the bed.

So, I take it for a free checkup, and the hard drive is dead. Good thing I actually backed most of this one up. Ugh. So, I'll be needing to get a new hard drive. The guy was offering to do everything for around $200, but I figure I can just get a hard drive for ~$100 and install it on my own. Then I just need to find a copy of XP/Vista lying around. Or maybe I'll finally move to Linux. OSX seems fun to pirate, too.

Anyway, I decided it'd be smarter at this point to just get a new computer. I spent around ~$500. This is officially me moving to baller status. Haha. I love being employed.

ALSO!?

Pocketbook from Jennifer Hudson is AMAZING. The beat, the voice, the dramatics...it is giving me record level dramatics. Even with Beyonce's album, it took me a long while to warm up. Whereas, as soon as I heard the first twenty seconds of Pocketbook, I put it on repeat.

I don't remember being this excited about fagging out to an album in so long. Excuse my language but...what else do you call it? Like, I'd almost go get some skinny jeans, a pocket book, some shades, and some lip gloss and start dropping to the floor in my room to this type of song...almost.

Almost.

See, what I also love about her album is that she can give me more soulful songs like "Spotlight" but still can give me a lot of pop with this.

I am officially all over Jennifer Hudson. I'm way too excited right now.

So excited, in fact, that I might need to go shopping today. Homework can wait.
[Also, sadly, I saw like half of those shoes I posted in Aldo? Well, lookalikes, but still.Now, most of them are no longer viable, especially with the prices they were asking.]

"Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook..."

Cheers and good morning, my lovelies.

Lip liner on my smile lines

2008-10-03T17:14:00.000-07:00

There's so much else to discuss.

For example, I just read two books from Harry Frankfurt, a contemporary philosopher. The two books are On Bullshit and On Truth, both of which are great books. But I loved On Truth. If/when I get my own place and finally establish my library...I will definitely have some Harry Frankfurt books in it.

They're both very short, very small books-- 100 pages each, but probably about fifty pages in a regular sized book. Both very interesting.

Before I return them to avoid the late fees, I'll post some passages I really liked:

"Spinoza maintained that regardless of whether we enjoy, feel comfortable with, or cherish the species of rationality that is at issue here, that kind of rationality will be imposed on us. Whether we like it or not, we really cannot help submitting to it. We are driven to do so, as Spinoza understood the matter, by love.
Spinoza explained the nature of love as follows:'Love is nothing but Joy with the accompanying idea of an external cause'(Ethics, part III, proposition 13, scholium). As for the meaning of 'joy', he stipulated that it is 'what follows that passion by which the...[individual] passes to a greater perfection.'"

"Joy, as I think [Spinoza] understands it, is a feeling of the enlargement of one's power to live, and to continue living, in accord with one's most authentic nature...Spinoza believed it follows from this that people cannot help loving truth. They cannot help doing so, he thought, because they cannot help recognizing that truth is indispensable in enabling them to stay alive, to understand themselves, and to live fully in accord with their own natures."

He also goes on about lying and Kantian ideas on it-- essentially that it destroys society by taking away all value from social discourse. But as Frankfurt points out, some people do actually enjoy the promotion of bullshit.

And in understanding bullshit, it's best to read On Bullshit. He really goes into it-- that's it not quite lying or telling the truth. Bullshit is the greatest enemy of truth because speakers who bullshit have no concern for whether what they say is true or not-- the truth value of their statements are of no importance. The bullshitter and liar mislead about completely different things: while the liar misleads about the content of what [s]he's saying, [s]he also simultaneously acknowledges that they have an idea of what the truth is. Bullshitters, meanwhile, acknowledge no difference, and if they do, don't care one way or the other.

The bullshitter misleads in that [s]he pretends to care about whether or not the information is true or not.

Very good books. I recommend.

Also, my suitemate Bobo gave me two beautiful children's books from the bestselling series The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing. She got them from work. So exciting! And hardcover, too. Thanks, Bobo! =)

I also wanted to talk about the VP debate, but perhaps that'll be for next time.

Later.

Mighty Mothers from Berkshire

2008-10-03T16:52:00.001-07:00

I've been playing "Let's get lifted" from John Legend on repeat for a minute.

Let's see, let's see. What's been up? A few things, I guess.

Hand definitely not broken. Thank goodness. In fact, I think I intended it, in some way, to be an analogy to my heart...when my fist heals, the heart will follow. Maybe? If only.

That seemed a lot less cheesy in my head.

Anyway, most of the swelling is already down and I can clench my fist now and put my hand into my pocket without feeling too much pain. Give it a few more days, I suppose.

I've been trying to keep myself busy and keep moving, and most importantly keep myself from being alone in my room. I'd just let myself fall into this self-pitying sense of grief and not get anything done.

And what I need to do is just move, move, move.

So. I had my paper due yesterday. Saw my Japanese advisor for a few minutes, since I had class/work. She left today and I didn't even get to say goodbye. Unfortunately.

My Thai friend from Japan is apparently in NY and won't be in Boston until Monday, which was majorly disappointing! This girl and I were great friends, so it'll be nice to see her again.

Bigger news!

I think I mentioned the MOCAA job that I applied for-- they called me in for an interview on Wednesday, which was held this morning. Got the job. And apparently I'm getting paid even more than I expected because of my experience, I guess-- instead of $12 an hour, it's $15.

...Do you know how much clothes I can buy with that kind of money!?

So, I'm walking back from the interview to the train station, holding my eyes from the sun, trying to figure out if my excitement was overpowering my broken-heart or what. All the while, doing the math.

[MOCAA]15 x 12 + [Tufts Financial Aid]8.5 x 7 = 180+59.5 = 239.5 a week. Well...taxes I guess, but whatever. And apparently MOCAA's gonna pay me on a stipend for three months until I'm done with my trial period, so. No taxes for that.

Yeah, y'all can be privy to my measly part-time income details, I guess.

Anyway, so many clothes, shoes, coats...all these material things I can use to distract me.

I also took out a lot of books from the library. Hopefully I can read them all.

I've got:

-Water for Elephants
-Lord of the Flies
-The Fountainhead
-Age of Aquarius

And then two books on managing nonprofits, just because.

What else. Today was the career fair here at Tufts, which I went to. Lot of engineering jobs...eh. I did connect with this woman from the Department of State about foreign service, and she wanted me to email her about grad school fellowships. Definitely interested in going to grad school for free, haha.

Just got back from dinner with some kids who went to China. It was a lot of fun-- I miss China so much that I guess anything that reminds me of that time is cool. Most of the kids I was with went on different programs, though, so I was meeting them for the first time. We had Sichuan style food[Sichuan is where the earthquake was...if that helps], which is notoriously spicy. Wasn't that bad, though.

I can't decide if I want to go out tonight. I can already tell I won't enjoy it but I also feel as if drinking would really help right about now.

It's either that or I read/study. On a Friday night. Could happen.

Tomorrow, I think I'll go to Newbury St., I invited my suite mates. Time to splurge.

Nothing like clothes.
Gotta move, move, move, MOVE.

And...new song. "Everything's just wonderful", Lily Allen.

Later.

Punctuated totalitarian junkies

2008-10-01T11:51:00.000-07:00

What an odd title. "Punctuated" is from punctuated equilibrium, which is a concept we cover in my Biology & Humanity class. I definitely take too many bio/philosophy classes.

Totalitarian...well. My political science seminar is about neoconservatives and foreign policy and I've been drowning in Kristol's anti-totalitarian stuff for the past two days or so for my paper.

Junkie is the title of a book from William S. Burroughs, one of my favorite writers of all time.[Marcel Proust and James Baldwin are also up there...obviously. Go gay men.]

So, anyway.

My boss has had me running back and forth for the past three hours. Now I can finally sit and chill for a bit. So what do I do with this free time?

Work on my paper would be the answer you'd make if you knew nothing about me at all. Instead, I've been looking at shoes.

I think I want people's opinions...so don't be shy.
--

I like these but I can't tell if they're too much/cartoon-ish/whatever.

Same for these.

And then there are these, which are relatively cheap, I guess($70):

These are my favorite-- I love bent-toe shoes.

--

I figured I would go about changing my wardrobe in parts-- first shirts, then pants, then blazers. And then everything else-- belts, shoes, socks, cuff links. You know.

Well, I've got about six dress shirts. Maybe four sweaters that I'd actually wear. About two-three pairs of pants that I like. Two blazers. One belt but...it'll manage.

Anyway, not exactly where I want to be on the first front, but getting there!

So next is definitely shoes. And considering the only things I have are...this rundown pair from back in HS? I think that's my new project.

I don't even have sneakers that aren't at least two years old or so. A sad state of affairs, this is!

Since I don't see myself replacing my phone any time soon[well, unless I get that second job at MOCAA...since that would more than double my income], I might as well divide my earnings between shoes and my credit card bill.

Cheers.

RE: An older promise.

2008-09-30T20:10:00.000-07:00

I said I would try to get my hands on a essay from an ethical theory class that I read, rebuking[is that the word?] moral egoism and whatnot.

Got my friend Briane to send it to me, since she's in the class.

Stocker_TheSchizophreniaOfModernEthicalTheories.pdf

There it is. I promise it's not porn.

I hope this isn't too illegal.
Cheers.

YOWZA!

2008-09-30T18:14:00.001-07:00

I just hurt my hand by punching the door.

Fuck.
Excuse my French.

I'm so fucking trite.

EDIT: Twice.
Let's see if I can break my hand.

EDIT: Three.
Anybody got any pain killers? Haha.

I now have an empty picture frame and no picture to put in it. Maybe mine.

In other news, I am incredibly glad I only have my poli sci seminar paper due Thursday, my advisor from Japan coming tomorrow, and an old friend also from Japan, coming Thursday.

If I were actually scheduled to take my LSATs, I'd probably bomb. And why did I punch a solid door with my writing hand?

Stupid, hilariously naive me. If I knew I was going to be upset, I wouldn't have had that sandwich.

I always feel like vomiting when I'm upset. Here's to holding it down!

[Alright...no more edits.]

A week from grace.

2008-09-30T08:59:00.000-07:00

My birthday is in a week.
I've been toying with the idea of taking my birthday off of facebook-- I don't want to sort through the birthday messages.

Nine years from thirty...

So, I've got papers upon papers upon papers this week and the following week. I didn't register for the LSATs or the JLPT on time, which were both major errors on my part.

There's a school trip to Ghana that I think I want to apply for. I mean...while I can get financial assistance? Why not?

I'm out of things to say.

EDIT: And then I read the Ghana application and realized they wanted a completed letter of recommendation by the deadline.[Today, coincidentally]

I'm really dropping the ball, these days.

I'm no Nietzche.

2008-09-24T23:47:00.000-07:00

So, I teared up today. It was the first time in about two years that I've come close to crying.

Actually, I teared up a little in leaving Okayama. So I guess it hasn't been that long.

That's all.

Another old face in the gayborhood...

2008-09-23T20:44:00.000-07:00

BREAKING NEWS: Clay Aiken, of American Idol fame, is GAY!

Color me surprised and shocked!

More at seven. Back to you, Jim.

While I'm at it...

2008-09-22T08:41:00.000-07:00

I thought I would post something from a philosophy seminar I'm taking this semester.

In a reading last week, we covered Galen Strawson's Basic Argument:

1. We do what we do, in a given situation, because we are what we are.
2. In order to be ultimately responsible for what we do, we have to be ultimately responsible for what we are — at least in certain crucial mental respects.
3. But we cannot, as the first point avers, be ultimately responsible for what we are, because, simply, we are what we are; we cannot be causa sui.
4. Therefore, we cannot be ultimately responsible for what we do.

Ultimately, I wound up having to capitulate. At least until I find a working solution.

Just thought I'd throw this out there, since I don't think any of my readers philosophize regularly.

Cheers.

A Lesson in Irresponsibility

2008-09-22T08:13:00.000-07:00

So, instead of reading or studying for LSATs, I watched a Devil Wears Prada on recommendation from my baby, Jeremy.

Normally I don't take movies seriously-- normally, I don't watch movies period. But why not take it seriously? Why not take everything seriously?

Anyway, good movie-- not something I'd consider a favorite, but fun to watch. By the end, I thought the movie repudiated what Miranda stood for-- or not repudiated, perhaps, but at least made clear that there were concessions she'd made for her fabulous life. A life without love, without knowing how to be altruistic or to ever do anything without expecting something in return.

I almost wanted to go into a "what is love?" shpiel, but I forgot that I don't believe in it.

I immediately thought of Atlas Shrugged after I finished the movie. AS is definitely one of my favorite books of all time, if not my favorite, but I don't know that I find Randian characters to be ethical.

I talked about the movie with Jeremy afterward, who disagreed with...more or less everything I thought about the movie, I think.

Perhaps I'm wrong. I want to try out this little experiment.

A life of no-nonsense, of very little patience, of a lack of compassion to everyone who hasn't broken their backs to earn it.

I suspect at the end of the day, I'll be dissatisfied-- that this lifestyle isn't categorically valid, but...let's pretend I'm going to test this unbiasedly.

I'm pretty sure I read some things trashing this type of egoism in an ethical theory class. I should look those up again.

Cheers.

Incorrigible Implants.

2008-09-14T20:22:00.000-07:00

Woah, it's been a doozy.

Hello, family. Another post, haphazardly posted from my room.

I'm back at Tufts. It's been over two weeks, in fact.

I had this entry planned about how hellish Friday was-- or perhaps more bizarre than hellish-- but that was all on the condition that Friday was the 13th. My computer's set to Japanese time so I was sure that the day's worth of frustration was due to it being Friday the 13th, but Jeremy tactfully informed me that it wasn't. Now my Friday the 13th post is ruined and I'm not sure my petty, bourgeois annoyances are even worth relating.

I can talk about Revolutionary Road. To be honest, the book has a great beginning and a great end, but the middle sort of dragged for me-- though I figured it would be this way. I still really adored the book; Yates has a great way with language and crafting pathetic but sympathetic characters that's really engaging.[Did I just write that sentence?] But I guess one thing I did notice is that unlike James Baldwin or Haruki Murakami, Richard Yates doesn't really inspire me to write. He just leaves me feeling kind of sad, I guess.

I do recommend this book. It's essentially about a married couple in the 1950s, idealistic and flawed and unsatisfied, and all the foibles they have as parents and people and everything. A couple who shouldn't be married, who shouldn't live where they live, who shouldn't have children, who shouldn't have the friends they have. Perfectly dysfunctional.

I don't know how to go further without spoiling the book, but the book is moving: the husband is such a manipulative, self-satisfied sort of man and the wife is...more complicated. I feel bad for her at times, that she's a little too confused to know what she's doing. And there are sexist overtones at points in the book-- read at your own risk.

Some quotes:

Cute exchanges like this:

"I happen to be very annoyed with Maureen at the moment,"she was saying. "This vacation mix-up is only the latest in a long line of foolishness, but that's beside the point. The main thing--" and here she looked at him keenly--"The important thing, is that I'm very deeply concerned about her too. I've known her a good deal longer and I believe I know her better than you do, Mr. Wheeler. She's a very young, very insecure, very sweet kid, and she's gone through a lot of hell in the past few years. Right now she needs guidance and she needs friendship. On the face of it-- and I hope you'll forgive my speaking plainly-- on the face of it, the one thing she definitely does not need is to get involved in a pointless affair with a married man. Mind you, I'm not-- please don't interrupt. I'm not interested in moralizing. I'd much rather feel that you and I can discuss this thing as civilized adults. But I'm afraid I must begin with an awkward question. Maureen appears to be under the impression that you're in love with her. Is this true?"
The answer was so classically simple that the framing of it filled him with pleasure. "I'm afraid I don't think that's any of your business."
She leaned back and smiled at him in a canny, speculative way, letting little curls of smoke dribble out of her nostrils, picking a flake of cigarette paper from her lip with the lacquered nails of little-finger and thumb. He was reminded of Bart Pollock at lunch saying, "Let me see how good a judge of character I am," and he wanted to reach across the table and strangle her.
"I think I like you, Frank," she said at last. "May I call you that? I think I even like your way of getting angry; it shows integrity." She came forward again, took a coquettish sip of her drink, and propped one elbow on the table. "Oh, look, Frank," she said. "Let's try to understand each other. I think you're possibly a very nice, serious boy with a nice wife and a couple of nice kids out there in Connecticut, and I think possibly all that's happened here is that you've gone and gotten yourself involved in a very human, very understandable situation. Doesn't that about sum it up?"
"No," he said. "It doesn't even come close. Now I'll try, okay?"
"Okay."
"Okay. I think you're a meddling, tiresome woman, possibly a latent lesbian, and very definitely"-- he laid a dollar bill on the table--"very definitely a pain in the ass. Have a nice vacation."
--
Fights like this:

[Frank and April, on why she's been in sleeping in the living room]
"All right," she said, backing away another step. "It's because I don't love you. How's that?"
Luckily the bland psychiatrist's smile was still on his face; it saved him from taking her seriously. "That isn't much of an answer," he said kindly. "I wonder what you really feel. I wonder if what you're really doing here isn't sort of trying to evade everything until you're-- well, until you're in analysis. Sort of trying to resign from personal responsibility between now and the time you begin your treatment. Do you suppose that might be it?"
"No." She had turned away from him. "Oh, I don't know; yes. Whatever you like. Put it whichever way makes you feel the most comfortable."
"Well," he said, "it's hardly a question of making me comfortable. All I'm saying is that life does have to go on, analysis or not. Hell, I know you're having a bad time just now; it has been a tough summer. The point is we've both been under a strain, and we ought to be trying to help each other as much as we can. I mean God knows my own behavior has been pretty weird lately; matter of fact I've been thinking it might be a good idea for me to see the headshrinker myself. Actually--" he turned and stood looking out the window, tightening his jaw. "Actually, one of the reasons I've been hoping we could get together again is because there's something I'd like to tell you about: something kind of-- well, kind of neurotic and irrational that happened to me a few weeks ago."
And almost, if not quite, before he knew what his voice was up to, he was telling her about Maureen Grube. He did it with automatic artfulness, identifying her only as "a girl in New York, a girl I hardly even know," rather than as a typist at the office, careful to stress that there had been no emotional involvement on his part while managing to imply that her need for him had been deep and ungovernable. His voice, soft and strong with an occasional husky falter or hesitation that only enhanced its rhythm, combined the power of confession with the narrative grace of romantic storytelling.
"And I think the main thing was simply a case of feeling that my-- well, that my masculinity'd been threatened somehow by all that abortion business; wanting to prove something; I don't know. Anyway, I broke it off last week; the whole stupid business. It's over now; really over. If I weren't sure of that I guess I could never've brought myself to tell you about it."
For half a minute, the only sound in the room was the music on the radio.
"Why did you?" she asked.
He shook his head, still looking out the window. "Baby, I don't know. I've tried to explain it to you; I'm still trying to explain it to myself. That's what I meant about it being a neurotic, irrational kind of thing. I--"
"No," she said. "I don't mean why did you have the girl; I mean why did you tell me about it? What's the point? Is it supposed to make me jealous, or something? Is it supposed to make me fall in love with you, or back into bed with you, or what? I mean what am I supposed to say?"
He looked at her, feeling his face blush and twitch into an embarrassed simper that he tried, unsuccessfully, to make over into the psychiatric smile. "Why don't you say what you feel?"
She seemed to think this over a few seconds and then she shrugged. "I have. I don't feel anything.
"In other words you don't care what I do or who I go to bed with or anything. Right?"
"No, I guess that's right. I don't."
"But I want you to care!"
"I know you do. And I suppose I would if I loved you; but you see I don't. I don't love you and I never really have, and I never really figured it out until this week, and that's why I'd just as soon not do any talking right now. Do you see?" She picked up a dust cloth and went into the living room, a tired, competent housewife with chores to do.
"And listen to this," said an urgent voice on the radio."Now, during the big Fall Clearance, you'll find Robert Hall's entire stock of men's walk shorts and sport jeans drastically reduced!"
Standing foursquare and staring down at his untouched glass of iced tea on the table, he felt his head fill with such a dense morass of confusion that only one consecutive line of thought came through: an abrupt remembrance of what Sunday this was, which explained why the kids were over at the Campbells', and which also meant there wasn't much time left for talking.
"Oh, now listen," he said, wheeling and following her into the living room with decisive, headlong strides. "You just put down that God damn rag a minute and listen. Listen to me. In the first place, you know God damn well you love me."
--

And then fights like this:

"Oh," she said. "Oh, Frank, you really are a wonderful talker. If black could be made into white by talking, you'd be the man for the job. So now I'm crazy because I don't love you-- right? Is that the point?"
"No. Wrong. You're not crazy, and you do love me; that's the point."
She got to her feet and backed away from him, her eyes flashing. "But I don't," she said. "In fact, I loathe the sight of you. In fact if you come any closer, if you touch me or anything I think I'll scream."
Then he did touch her, saying, "Oh baby, lis--" and she did scream.
It was plainly a false scream, done while she looked coldly into his eyes, but it was high, shrill, and loud enough to shake the house. When the noise of it was over, he said:
"God damn you. God damn all your snotty, hateful little-- Come here, God damn it--"
She switched nimbly past him and pulled a straight chair around to block his path; he grabbed it and slung it against the wall and once of its legs broke off.
"And what're you going to do now?" she taunted him. "Are you going to hit me? To show how much you love me?"
"No." All at once he felt massively strong. "Oh, no. Don't worry. I couldn't be bothered. You're not worth the trouble it'd take to hit you. You're not worth the power it'd take to blow you up. You're an empty--" He was aware, as his voice filled out, of a sense of luxurious freedom because the children weren't here. Nobody was here, and nobody was coming; they had this whole reverberating house to themselves. "You're an empty, hollow fucking shell of a woman..." It was the first opportunity for a wide-open, all-out fight they'd had in months, and he made the most of it, stalking and circling her as he shouted, trembling and gasping for breath. "What the hell are you living in my house for, if you hate me so much? Huh? Will you answer that? What the hell are you carrying my child for?" like John Givings, he pointed at her belly. "Why the hell didn't you get rid of it, when you had the chance? Because listen. Listen. I got news for you." The great pressure that began to be eased inside him now, as he slowly and quietly intoned his next words, made it seem that this was a cleaner breakthrough into truth than any he had ever made before:"I wish to God you'd done it."
--

And sexist exchanges like these..
...
"Oh, Frank. Can you really think artists and writers are the only people entitled to lives of their own? Listen: I don't care if it takes you five years of doing nothing at all; I don't care if you decide after five years that what you really want is to be a bricklayer or a mechanic or a merchant seaman. Don't you see what I'm saying? It's got nothing to do with definite, measurable talents-- it's your very essence that's being stifled here. it's what you are that's being denied and denied in this kind of life."
"And what's that?" For the first time he allowed himself to look at her-- not only to look but to put down his glass and take hold of her leg, and she covered and pressed his hand with both of her own.
"Oh, don't you know?" She brought his hand gently up her hip and around to the flat of her abdomen where she pressed it close again. "Don't you know? You're the most valuable and wonderful thing in the world . You're a man."
And of all the capitulations in his life, this was the one that seemed most like a victory. Never before had elation welled more powerfully inside him; never had beauty grown more purely out of truth; never in taking his wife had he triumphed more completely over time and space. The past could dissolve at his will and so could the future; so could the walls of this house and the whole imprisoning wasteland beyond it, towns and trees. He had taken command of the universe because he was a man, and because the marvelous creature who opened and moved for him, tender and strong, was a woman.
--

In other news...
I'd like to think it's my strep throat but I've been feeling really aggressive lately-- argumentative, angry, wanting to hurt people's feelings. I've been feeling a sort of obnoxious sense of self-pity-- that kids at this school don't deserve my kindness, that I've been playing with kid gloves a little too long, that I should really be more callous.

I think I just need some more down time. I think I'll be better in the morning.

Cheers.

This just in: bodybuilders from Uranus are CRAZY

2008-08-24T08:28:00.000-07:00

I'm running for dictator of Asia.

Vote for me.

I'm also really awesome with chopsticks.

[Yes...this post is really about nothing.]
Meeting Perris in a minute.
Sort of feeling angry and in charge. I'm really taking this reinvention of myself seriously. Starting with clothes at first.
Part of me wonders if this is because of Jeremy, if I actually want to *be* him. I talked about wearing suits and stuff before but I'm definitely moving faster because of him.
I want this cute suit from Zara[I saw it in Japan, actually, but I decided to get my 5351 suit instead, pictured in the first photo]and I want a Blackberry. I will be getting both. Just don't know when.
I cannot WAIT to get a job. I'm tired of being poor.

I suppose I'm making my transition back into a fashion queer? Whatever. Either I'm splurging on this or I'm getting new tech gadgests/a new computer. Consumption's consumption.

Sorry, another substance-less post again. I'll write real prose soon-- PROMISE.

Cheers.

Debunking creationism, in Croatian

2008-08-23T09:12:00.000-07:00

I need to move out.
And I'm tired of being gay, at the moment.

That's a good way to start.

Hey y'all. This is my delayed coming back to America post. I'm sort of pressed for time at the moment-- Jersey City Pride soon and whatnot, but I figured I should make a few bullets on what post-Japan's been like.

Flew into JFK in NY last Tuesday. I suppose it's been over a week now.
Jetlag was horrible. Took me a long time to get over it.
I haven't been up to much. Reading. Not studying for LSATs.
Went to Bookoff in NYC, finally-- a second-hand Japanese bookstore. Picked up some comic books.
Have been hanging out with my bicurious and cute galpals, Genna and Kazumi.

I was seeing them quite a bit last week. Went with them to a gay club, Rush. Didn't really enjoy it. Either I needed to be drunker or something else, but. I guess in general I feel really disconnected from club kids.

I had this plan, which I don't think I wrote in my blog, after my experience in China and Japan. That I would be more antisocial, less hopeful-- and by less hopeful, I don't mean that in any actual sense, I guess. I suppose what I mean is that instead of a sort of wide-eyed and expectant attitude, praying with every breath that I'll meet someone great, not necessarily someone I'm romantically interested in, but great nonetheless. Instead of having that sort of attitude, I would just...live, doing things that I do, sticking with my routine, work, work, work.

So, I guess not really antisocial at all.

Anyway, after the club, I met Jeremy, who's interesting. We're friends, who have hooked up a few times? I don't really know what to call it. He says 'friends', I say 'friends' for lack of a better term. I'm not really good with this sort of thing-- I didn't even realize that dating and being someone's boy/girlfriend weren't the same until...maybe two or three years ago?

I also met Steven yesterday, and a bunch of his friends. Pretty interesting. I'm pretty sure I came off boring, though. Sorry! Haha.

Also went to the pier on Christopher Street for the first time. Was pretty interesting.

"Interesting" is an adjective I like, nowadays.

I suppose I should shower. I'll try to come back and write something with a little substance later.
Later.

Red soil, blue skies.

2008-08-12T22:22:00.001-07:00

Thanks to a kick from Colton, I'm writing a short post.

Sorry I've been MIA. I haven't really had an internet connection for a while. Just flew back into NY about a few hours ago. Looooong flight.

I'll try to write something later. I'm tired and jet-lagged.

Later.

Humble Bees and Daisy Kisses.

2008-07-22T20:34:00.000-07:00

So...

I just got anally raped by my Kanji and Grammar finals. Wow.

I...don't know if I'll get those As this semester.
Ugh. It's all up to prayer now.

Listen to Disturbia with me. Don't know why I'm liking this song suddenly.

Probably gonna read more 1984. I'll go to the library and work on my paper in a bit.
At least I'm pretty much done with my Japanese classes now. From here on out, it's mainly papers.

Also, here's a story on our "schizophrenic" Axis of Evil policy. Found it interesting.
Here.

Be back later.

ETA: The forces at work on youtube are quite fast. New video since the one I originally posted has been taken down.

Milking neutrinos from a dead dwarf star.

2008-07-21T07:39:00.000-07:00

This is shameful, but I've started listening to Mindless Self Indulgence again.

I found about them from my carpool, back in high school. At first I hated them but after listening to them for a good two years or so, my brain was poisoned.

The FGWSS album from 1999 is the most familiar to me. Golden I might be my favorite song. "Holy Shit" is also pretty good, I think.

Here's a fan video for "Golden I" if you want to give it a listen.

Yeah, I pirated all their albums. Don't judge me too harshly-- I still have no intention of going to any of their concerts.

Also. I saw this video a while back and thought it was funny. Excuse my blasphemy; I'm sort of on strike from Catholicism at the moment.

Maybe the key to being a consistent blogger is just using a lot of youtube. I've discovered Meghan's secret!

Alright, I really need to do some work now.

So far, it's:

--Memorize my speech for tomorrow
--Do my Japanese exam review packet for tomorrow
--Study for Kanji Final[Wednesday]
--Study for Grammar Final[Wednesday]
--Write my paper on Zen Ethical Theory by Friday...in Japanese
--Write a paper on Kafka on the Shore[Before Semester Ends]
--Write a paper on a Japanese Experience class, or something[Before Semester Ends]
--Turn in all my essays[Before semester ends]

Uhhhh. I guess it's all mainly busy work but a paper on Zen ethics? Like, a serious philosophy paper, in Japanese? I'm unsure of what it's supposed to look like, but I think he said something like a preliminary rough draft would be about 5 pages? But the actual research students here have to write 10 page papers. Do I...really have to write a ten page paper in Japanese on comparative ethics?

Uhhhh. I never should have tried to be an overachiever and sign up for this optional Japanese philosophy thing. Hopefully I don't bomb too badly.

I should get back to work now.

Dreaming of teacups, in yesteryear

2008-07-20T06:54:00.000-07:00

Some quotes that I like:

"Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody." -- Catcher in the Rye.

I never reread anything, but I have the strangest desire to reread Catcher in the Rye. When I read it, around age 13 in my summer before high school, I thought Holden was such a neurotic dick. Even though he did remind me of myself and some of my friends, he wasn't a character I particularly wanted to read about.

I think I would feel differently about it now. It also makes me want to reread Franny and Zoey, which I don't think I ever finished? I did love the pretentiousness of it all, though.

Another quote:

"If a little dreaming is dangerous, the cure for it is not to dream less but to dream more, to dream all the time. " -- A Remembrance of Things Past, Volume II.

I forgot how much I adore Marcel Proust. He's also on my list of rereads.

I'll add a few more. Scan if you can; read if you might.

"But, when nothing subsists from a distant past, after the death of others, after the destruction of objects, only the senses of smell and taste, weaker but more enduring, more intangible, more persistent, more faithful, continue for a long time, like souls, to remember, to wait, to hope, on the ruins of all the rest, to bring without flinching, on their nearly impalpable droplet, the immense edifice of memory."

"Society people are often myopic; at the moment when the cease all relations with Jewish ladies of their acquaintance, as they wonder how to fill the void, they notice, pushed among them as if by a stormy night, a new lady, who is also Jewish; but thanks to her newness, she is not associated in their minds, as were the earlier ladies, with what they believe they must detest. she does not demand that they respect her God. She is adopted. It was not a question of antisemitism when I first started to go to Odette’s."

"There is probably not one person, however great his virtue, who cannot be led by the complexities of life’s circumstances to a familiarity with the vices he condemns the most vehemently—without his completely recognizing this vice which, disguised as certain events, touches him and wounds him: strange words, an inexplicable attitude, on a given night, of the person whom he otherwise has so many reasons to love."

"Let us leave pretty women to men devoid of imagination."

All from A Remembrance of Things Past. Other quotes may be found here.

And he's Queer? Amazing. Proust has this amazing way of taking everything that I like about Old world writing and doing it so incredibly well. He makes me want to be a novelist.

In other news, I've been feeling this change come on for a while-- I was talking to Irene about it earlier. That I'm slowing down, getting a little less excited? I keep seeing myself in tea shops, wearing sweaters, screaming less and adventuring even less so.

In other words, I am feeling heartbroken in a number of ways, melancholy, and literary. The last one is a good thing-- I always think I'm a better writer when I'm a little sad.

Still reading 1984. And I really need to start studying for finals.

Wish me luck.

Air, Brain and Physical Conditioning.

2008-07-19T00:08:00.000-07:00

I was looking back at my first entry and I think I wanted this blog to be a little more issue oriented. Maybe I'll try that.

I was reading the news for the past hour or so, enjoying my Saturday hangover.[Perhaps I'll talk about last night at some point] Normally, I just go onto google news every now and then and try to randomly read articles but I went to specific sites today.

I don't know why I thought I would like the Huffington Post. It seems creative, interesting, hip and young-- I should be a good fit. But I was reading a few articles for about a half hour and many of the arguments were utterly unconvincing. I couldn't help tearing them apart in my head. It's also a tad too liberal for my tastes.

I am starting to like BBC, though-- I think they have a good, critical way of reporting. Perhaps a bit liberal but it doesn't bother me as much, for some reason.

The people on Biased-BBC seem to have a problem with it, though.

Maybe the Telegraph would be a better fit. Hmm.

In other news. Hopefully I remember to talk about this. The link features a video of verbal fisticuffs between Whoopi Goldberg and Elisabeth Hasselbeck, on the View. I've seen the show maybe twice, tops, and even I knew enough to predict the ending: someone crying.

Anyway, they're arguing about the use of the n word. After posting on some Black Gay forums[I'd link but...perhaps some anonymity here and there is a good thing], I've been thinking about my own position on it as well-- I don't know if I've done my obligatory post on the n-word. Might as well do it now.

It bothers me when someone who doesn't have a good reason to use it uses it. Namely, those who do it because they're friends are doing it or it's in vogue or whatever. The only acceptable reason to use the n-word is to de-power it, if someone has the deliberate intent in mind of reducing the word's power and taking ownership of it.

Of course, even by using it without having some sort of agenda to reduce the stigma around the n-word, you still reduce its stigma. Albeit unconsciously. So perhaps my position doesn't have a leg to stand on after all. Part of me realizes this, which is why I've gradually become more liberal about it, but it's still not a word I use or see myself ever using. Might have something to do with the way I was raised.

Elisabeth's line about "trying to live in the same world" struck me. Is that really the goal? I disagree for the most part.

But I'm tired of talking about the n word.

In other news, currently reading:

My edition is different but this one has a cooler cover. I feel as if there are a slew of books that people are expected to have read before college or in college, this being one of them. So I'm giving it a go before it gets to late.

It's alright so far; I'm about a hundred pages in. Maybe I'll try to plow through it today.

Hopefully I can keep this up-- talking about books, I mean. If there's anything I actually *do* often, it's read. Maybe next entry I'll make a list of recommendations or start doing reviews here.

I'm off. Later, duckies.

Blood Brothers

2008-07-14T06:28:00.001-07:00

And this is what happens when you force a poem.

Don't try this at home.

Blood Brothers

I assume we were blood brothers,
though we never bled enough to tell.
Beer brothers at the very least,
drowning in whiskey together,
my hand not in his as we crossed
black streets.

I am not sure when 'are' became 'were',
when my blood coagulated and turned into
something irrevocably different,
irrevocably queer and possibly sinister,
when the jeans I wore became even more cum-stained
than his.

But when they did, what we had stopped being an
adventure and started being a
crusade.

--

Also, I apparently love myself to the point that I am uninterested in other people.
I wish someone could have told me this earlier.

Vacuum cleaner nightmares, on Monday nights.

2008-07-14T05:21:00.001-07:00

Perhaps I should stop apologizing for my inconsistency. I'm torn. On the one hand, my apologies and half-assed reasons explaining what has led to yet anotherspell of bad blogging gives me a gimmick. A way to start every entry-- maybe it's endearing.

As I was going through it, though, I've noticed how often I actually do start with "sorry" or something other, and do I really mean it? If I did, I'd probably be more consistent. Right?

So, I apologize for not being sorry enough. I am working on it.

I am going to let you all in on a little secret, since I'm apparently being introspective and thinking on this sticky Monday night.[Have I mentioned Japan has suddenly become hot as BALLS?] I have this bad habit. It's small, I suppose, and I'm not entirely sure how to explain it. But I'll try. I actually check my blog quite often, and the comments from last entry were really quite moving. And I intended to write an entry quite a while ago but I kept avoiding it, putting it off, thinking of doing Japanese homework that I would eventually leave undone. And this snowballs, somehow, hours become days, my "I'll write an entry tomorrow"s slip from my mind. And before I realize, a month has passed.

The same thing happens with eMails, actually. Someone will send me an eMail-- my teachers, my advisors, even my mom and I'll go through the same motions of delay. First a half-hour, then a few hours, and while I've been too busy assing around playing Hearts or reading the Economist time will crawl by until it's some obscene hour. And when it gets too late, I always feel as if it's too late to write an eMail, as if my fingers stop working properly after 11 P.M., and so it'd be best to leave it to tomorrow. Rinse and repeat. Magically, a week has gone by and my advisor is now messaging my classmates to relay information because I've been too unfeeling to respond to an eMail asking if I was in good health after my trip to China. As melodramatic as it sounds, I really fear getting eMails.

So, now we've all become closer.

I'm unsure of what this entry should be about. Perhaps race.

There's no way I could seriously discuss all of my feelings about race in Japan in one entry. But one recent development is worth talking about, namely what seems to be the white guilt of some of my classmates and my recent ineptness in tackling racism and prejudice.

For the past month or so, it's become apparent to everyone in the dorm that I am a "heavy drinker", since I'm hungover for half of the week most of the time. This has led to me being invited to the drunk brigade with two of my Tufts classmates-- one is short, sort of pudgy-ish, black hair, typical NJ-but-spends-time-in-NY kind of suburban type. The other is tall, bald, in his thirties, Californian joker type, I guess. And so we usually go out drinking every Thursday, sometimes with another boy, who's from California.

On one such night, as we were chugging cheap Japanese beers, getting ready to go to a nomi-houdai[all you can drink, essentially], I was asked: "So, since we're close now, I can make Black jokes, right?"

As I held my beer can to my lips, I raised my eyebrows. I didn't even dignify it with an answer. Just, "huh?"

"Well, I mean, now that we're good friends and stuff, you know that I wouldn't mean any jokes offensively, right? You can make Jewish jokes and stuff too; it's totally cool."

Or something to that effect.

I just looked. And laughed. And looked some more. I think I gave something akin to a "yeah, sure" because, as I'll get to later, I have become incredibly lazy and, as mentioned above, inept with dealing with racial issues.

I don't recall what exactly was said. Some comments about Hypnotiq being a "Black drink"[though they've all had it more often than I have, apparently] and some other nonsense. This has all been snowballing, and I made the mistake of making a statement the other night that I think will only add to the enabling. The conversation went something like the following:

Me:"Yeah, my high school was pretty expensive too, about 25K a year."
M: "Wow, yours was expensive too?"
Me: "For no reason. I mean, there was nothing extraordinary about, I guess it was because I got to go to school with you guys."

M., the guy I was talking to, is Jewish. What I meant by "you guys" was people with money, and from context, it sort of makes sense. But what I'm pretty sure it was taken as was a Jewish joke, which was not what I meant. We were interrupted by some other people coming to our little "Beer garden" party and so I never was able to clarify myself. Plus, I was pretty drunk at this point. I'm just pretty sure that this came off as me agreeing to that little, "you can make Jewish jokes, too" permission that I was given. Which was not my intent.

I'm pretty sure I'm enabling.

Anyway, I suppose I don't laugh enough when one of them compares me to Jero[have I talked about him? If not, then that deserves its own entry. He's a Black singer in Japan] or when a joke is made about Kanye West or Flavor Flav. And so, at least in the past two weeks, two of the four have felt the need to give me apologies about it, about, once again, how they don't mean to be offensive and hope I am not taking the jokes in that way.

I, of course, feel some kind of way about it. But as when Jefferson[a Nigerian] used the n-word in China, or when another Latino friend of mine used it, or as when someone else made a racial faux pas that made me uncomfortable over the past year, I have preferred to ignore it instead of explaining why that sort of behavior makes me uncomfortable.

There's a lot more to say[like, say, my actual opinion, I guess] but it's almost ten o'clock and I'd rather pretend to do my homework. Maybe I'll make a part two to this entry.

Anyway, yesterday, a friend here took a picture of the front of a Japanese record store here in Kanazawa and I am going to steal that now and post it. Credit to him, of course.[Whatever, I'm not a real blogger; I can plagiarize...right?]

This led to us "talking about" a series of issues-- and by talking about, I mean, him asking me questions about racism and me responding. This is unfortunately my general impression of racial dialogue with white or passable "liberals"-- them asking questions and the other responding with their complaints and grievances. But I shall leave that topic for another entry. Either way, he asked me a series of questions-- "Which country do you feel is more racist, China or Japan?", "What types of racism did you deal with in America?", etc. And part of me was reluctant to answer-- here this goes again, if and when I fail to adequately represent Black grievances to a potential ally in the struggle for Black Power!!![yes, the exclamations are necessary], I will have to deal with the disappointment, with my sudden ineptness in explaining why a lot of Black people are still mad.

And instead of talking about the jail system, or how race relations in the 1960s and beforehand in the US has had major effects on class and gender issues in the Black community today, or the public schooling system, or health issues, or WHATEVER, I wound up saying getting chased by cops.

And I always feel as if, as silly as it might be, that despite their oh-so-bleeding hearts, and the compassion that they wear on their sleeves and facebook profiles, that many of these white liberals have a quota, a limit to how many times they can ask a Black person about racism. So. What if I'm the last person they can fit in the quota? And if I, the rare sagelike Black kid who's almost done with a relatively good college, cannot answer these questions appropriately-- who will?

And this is all what runs through the mind of a petty Juggernaut like me when I get asked these questions.

It's hot as balls. I have homework but I want to write a poem. And I've been thinking of that comic that I wanted to write, again.

I imagine this entry is possibly offensive, and I'd apologize, but...do I mean it?

Hopefully this entry was a good exercise in honesty, a faculty I've forgotten how to use properly. I'll come in and do clean up later, if necessary.

Much love. There's so much more to say-- I think I might actually write another entry tomorrow but with me, that's probably as likely as leeches raining from the sky.

Fin.

The Darkest Drum Major.

2008-06-04T05:04:00.000-07:00

Almost two months...that's a record, even for me!

Hello, y'all. As per usual, I'd like to apologize to everyone, especially Gracie and Steven, for not updating. Haha.

Man...I've forgotten so much that I wanted to talk about. And I still never did my Okayama entry.

Since today was such a great day, I just had to update. Why so great, you ask!?

1. OBAMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

My man, Barack Obama has "clinched" the Democratic nomination! Did anyone else notice how many newspapers used the word "clinched" to describe his victory? NYTimes, ABC news...geez. Aren't reporters supposed to have big vocabularies? Haha.

Anyway, even though most of my international friends don't get how exciting this primary has been, since Obama's been sort of "inevitable" for the past two-three months, I am pumped. PUMPED. And he gave an amazing speech.

Clinton being open to the VP slot worries me. I just...don't understand how she's going to rectify that with the negativity she threw at him during the primaries, about how he hasn't crossed the threshold and all that. Backpedal?

I sort of have a conspiracy hypothesis that she wants to sabotage his ticket so she can run again in '12. I wish people would stop calling it the Dream Ticket-- IMO, it just highlights both of their weaknesses. Though I can see why it is appealing-- it would have a way of uniting the base, and all that.

I was wondering how this would be written about in history textbooks in years to come. Even if Obama doesn't win, this is still a major milestone. I just recall being in middle school and reading my history textbook about women's suffrage. Now that I think about it, it sort of had a feminist/sympathetic tone to it-- even though women were strong allies in the fight for freeing the slaves in the mid 1800s, black [typically male]intellectual allies largely left female suffragists high and dry after they were freed. Or something to that effect? I just remember the fifty year gap between the two being significant and having to write about it on a test...or something. Oh, sixth grade.

Anyway, I wonder if this primary'll be written in a similar tone in the future-- that women were once again ignored in favor of Blacks, or something. It all seems kind of divide and conquer/silly anyway.

Obama 08. Man...I do not want a Hillary VP. Part of the cabinet, fine. Secretary of State even. But VP? Urgh.

2. No more midterms!

I am praying for As but knowing my penchant for making careless errors...it might be a longshot. Either way, I finished my exams today! Glad it's all over.

Now that I'm just about over the halfway point with about two months to go, I think I can honestly say how dissatisfied I am with this program. It might be a combination of things actually-- me being tired of studying Japanese, wishing I lived closer to town, etc. BUT. Looking at the exam, I just feel as if I do so little work. I started studying for my grammar midterm like...a night or two beforehand. What? In China, I started studying for a whole week beforehand. In general, the Japanese classes here just seem more knitpicky here than anything-- which might have to do with the language itself? I feel that the difference between my study in China and my study in Japan is that in China there was a lot of breadth in what I learned. A lot. Japanese? I'm more learning accuracy-- how to write sentences as simply as possible so that I get as few points taken off as possible. I feel as if experimentation isn't encouraged here-- I don't use new patterns because if I'm wrong I'm penalized so heavily. Blah.

So, my dissatisfaction. Otherwise, though, Japan is actually pretty cool.

What else. Oh, I had sex with a Japanese guy. It was pretty bad. Pretty bad. Like, almost the worst sex I've ever had. 3/10, if only because he was sort of cute.

At least I'm no longer celibate.

I'm also going to China on Sunday. Can we say...excited? I don't think I realized it as much at the time, but my stay in China was really amazing. I can't wait to see all of my old friends again. We're gonna party.

Oh, my computer power cord broke again. Can we say...anti-Dell? I think this is going to be my first and last time buying a Dell computer again. Between hard drive failure and broken power cords...and it's been, what, three years? I just want to last through college...maybe I'll give Apple a chance. I borrowed a laptop from the school, so I'm using that right now. Japanese computers...blah.

I'm sort of listless right now-- excited because of Obama and the end of my exams, but indecisive about what I should do with my energy. I sort of want to study everything at once-- I was talking to Sergei[the guy I'm sort of/kind of involved with over here, I guess] and he said reading the news is a good way to study for the Japanese National Language Exam. And I do learn a lot of vocab that way. But...I also remembered I have all my Pimsleur suites! I kind of want to study French. Or Portuguese. Or Italian. All at once? Haha.

Anyway, just energy in excess. Perhaps I should do my homework in advance before I go to China. I'm gonna be gone for a week, missing class, so...maybe it'll keep me in my senseis' good graces?

That's about it for now. I'll try to update tomorrow if I remember.

Steven, out.

Let freedom ring around my rosie.

2008-04-17T08:05:00.000-07:00

Hello, long time!

Okay, don't kill me.

I'm currently in my common room-- just finished up all the homework I had. Oddly enough, I still feel as if I haven't done enough. Normally I don't have a lot of problems speaking Japanese, but for some reason I'm feeling nervous in class and stammering and having trouble pronouncing my words. So I tried to preview the texts a few times, since there's a lot of kanji/characters that I don't know how to read in Japanese.[if only this were China...!]

So, yeah. I realize the last entry with any real content was written after I'd just gotten here. A month later, some things have happened/changed.

1. Dining Halls are open. Yay. Selection sucks major ass. Boo, boo, boo. I'm better off cooking on my magnetic hot plate.
2. The other students are back in the dorm! Yay and Nay. Yay, I'm not alone anymore and have made some friends. Nay, compared to China, there are less kids here and they are less cool.
3. I have been introduced to a game called Jungle Law. It is the shit...and I possibly love it as much as/more than Set. Though it requires other people.[I'll go more into this later.]
4. I've sort of made a bet to bag three Asian boys before the month runs out...hmm. Which means I have to actually go out, I guess.

ETC!

A big entry needs to be reserved for my trip to Okayama, which was a moving and great experience. Reminded me that I really became interested in Japan because of my experience five years ago, when I went to Okayama and met my exchange friends. So meeting them again reminded me that I'm tired of not being fluent. This is a good thing in particular since I've been finding it hard to stay motivated.

But that will be next time.

What's been up, you ask? Besides being a school nerd and stressing not much at all. Classes just started last week[meanwhile, you guys are probably prepping for finals and getting ready for great summers-- HA!]. Oh, I've probably never been over my study plans for Kanazawa. Let's do that now.

Okay, so, I have a thing about arbitrary goals, as I mentioned two entries ago. I wanted to go to level E in the Japanese classes.[Because you forgot, classes go: A-->B-->C1-->C2--D-->E-->F]. I completely bombed my placement test. Failed, crashed, burned, was raped, etc. I wound up in C2-- this is funny, because I took the intermediate placement test, which was for placing from D to F. And I didn't even finish, so I expected to do badly.

Anyway, I'm, of course, used to unexpected failures and bombing placement tests[I bombed my Japanese placement test twice at Tufts, in fact], so. I went to C2 classes, tried my best to look bored and beg my teachers to let me move up. Now, I'm in D class, though things get "finalized" today? Or something. Meaning, I can say I want to go back to C2 if I want.

My problem is pretty much that the grammar isn't bad at all-- I mean, I've done maybe 40-50% of it already. But there are so many WORDS and annoying ways of reading things-- one of the many advantages Chinese has over Japanese. With Japanese you have Kun Readings[Native Japanese readings] and On Readings[Pseudo-Chinese Readings] for a single character, and sometimes you have multiple kun and on readings. The result is that you can't just look at a character and automatically know how it sounds-- you have to pay attention to context, or the whole word. Chinese, on the other hand, has *very* few characters that can be read differently-- I can think of maybe two on the top of my head, tops. Otherwise, a character is pretty much read the same all the time, though there are some things with tones that can make things tricky sometimes.

Anyway, sorry, that was a lot of text. Point is, I was trying to prep for tomorrow and it took at least two hours to do a few newspaper readings. Like, damn. I knew vocabulary would be my problem though-- even if I can figure out what stuff means sometimes, I never know how to pronounce things. Plus, considering how badly I did on the placement test, I think I'll stay in D. I may change kanji classes, however-- Kanji C2 was too easy, but even Kanji D seems pretty easy, considering the self-evaluation test we took in the first class.

So, that's the Japanese stuff. I'm also in a composition class that I skipped this morning-- it was 8:45. I woke up...went back to sleep...woke back up at 9. Oops. It's more like an elective class though, and since we're still choosing classes, I think I should be fine.

For non-Japanese classes, I'm taking Nature of Japan, Experiences in Japanese Culture, and Japanese Literature in Translation. While the NoJ professor is quite nice and all, learning about f*cking snow flakes is not a way I want to spend an hour and a half. But I need science credits to graduate, so I'd stay in the class even if the class was about Holocaust Denial.

Experiences in Japanese Culture has apparently given us a break for a few weeks. It's a 3 hour biweekly class that's apparently just trips and stuff. It counts as an art credit so...you know I'm there.

Japanese Lit in Translation, I had today. An annoying class-- besides the fact that a good number of the students don't speak fluent English, the professor is also arbitrary, unhelpful, and unprepared. And I got to work with this Australian girl, Cathy, who's normally fine, but was an absolute dick today. So rude, because she was the only one talking[I was trying to be sure of my translation and everyone else was just...non-assertive]. Anyway, she almost made some ghettoness come out...but I'm trying to keep it together.

So, this is my schedule. Besides the actual Japanese class, none of it is particularly challenging, at least yet. So. I'm supposed to be satisfying my extracurricular goals: finishing Kite Runner and my other books, studying for the LSATs, the JLPTs, the HSK, etc. 'Cause I know next year is gonna suck.

I could talk about the schedule I picked for next semester at Tufts[my final fall semester as an undergrad!], but maybe next time. Some other things I hope I don't forget:

This guy Sergei, who is seeming like my only tolerable hookup prospect in Japan.[Sorry. I guess I'm being more aggressive about the celibacy-termination]
My classes for next year.
How some kids here tried to hook me up with this gay japanese guy.[WTF. That must be a sign that I'm pathetic.]
My plans for trips and stuff. I decided I'm gonna be a weekend Asian explorer. Watch out, I'm ballin!
The Okayama trip.
If someone else says I LOOK LIKE JERO, I'm gonna cut a b*tch.[This deserves an entry in itself. Oh Lord...]

Etc. But I got class at 8:45 tomorrow, so...next time, champs!

It has been a quark minute.

2008-04-09T10:54:00.000-07:00

Sorry, I know it's been a while and this isn't a real update.

I just wrote a poem in the last five minutes-- or at least something like a poem, or the start of one. I wanted to post it here.

I'm not especially proud of it-- I don't feel as if there's anything meta-level about it at all. It's all pretty rudimentary and straight forward.

I'm reading Kite Runner still, which is an amazing book. Perhaps a little too obsessed with anal rape? And the language isn't necessarily great-- I don't especially love the sentence structure or the word choice, but it makes me really emotional.

Kite Runner was pretty much the trigger for my writing-- there's bullying in the novel, which reminds me of my own fears, and...well, I don't like explaining my poems. Another reason was my friend Korey letting it slip that he doesn't like Asians all hanging together...just slight things that I try to ignore but that I need to do a better job addressing.

Anyway, I'll give more of a recap-like entry later-- maybe tomorrow or friday.

Cement traitors
What greater farce is there than to pretend to
be wealthy,
to clothe oneself in the fabrics of the first world
while having a soul of the third,
to pretend that we've somehow become beyond it all,
that my free ride in school somehow negates my poverty,
at least for four years?
that color blindness actually worked,
that
yknow
my skin doesn't seem so brown behind a brooks brothers polo
afterall.
No greater sense of treason than
to damn hip hop,
to engage in apologetics,
to make excuses for "the bad ones"
-- we're not all like that,
you're right:
our culture is maladaptive,
it's self-destructive,
it's anti-intellectual,
it propagates the "we are victim" meme
and that'll never get us anywhere.

What greater farce...
on my own morality.

Your
culture's privilege to
assimilate me
has been revoked.

In the busom of Kierkegaard.

2008-03-21T17:53:00.000-07:00

Kierkegaard is a philosopher.

Yo! Not too bad, only took me a week to make my next entry...

Let's see. I guess it's time for me to give my state of the union address on my stay in Japan.

Or, rather, maybe I'll just outline what my days have been like.

Well, I've been here for over a week now, I guess-- got here Wednesday before last. On Wednesday, I arrived-- safely-- and stayed in that expensive ass hotel adjacent to the airport, Hotel Nikko. Way too expensive, but I did get to Skype my mom and enjoy the TV.

On Thursday, I took my heavy ass luggage with me to Kanazawa. Which was a mess. For one, I barely knew what I was doing-- even though my Japanese should be good enough to get me around and stuff, hell, it should be better than my Chinese, so I should have been able to manage. But I get flustered in new situations if I'm alone[not as much as I used to though, haha] and so going to ticket windows and trying to express where I wanted to go was tiring. And then I missed my transfer. So, I was supposed to arrive at Kanazawa Station at 2 something-- instead, I got there an hour later. Luckily, I ran into Andrew, another classmate from my university, and another student here, Beck, on the train. Talk about coincidence-- they were just coming back from Korea.

My coordinators were worried. Andrew texted-- or rather, emailed...people don't use SMS messages over here--, etc.

And thusly, I got dropped off here. They asked if I wanted dinner. I said I was tired. So I got a tour of the dorm and went to sleep.

Friday. Um. Oh, well, I think Makiko pretty much toured me around for the day-- we got Chinese food for lunch that didn't taste all *that* Chinese, or at least not Chinese in the way that I like it[greasy and cheap], and then Makiko took me to the city hall to get my alien registration pass[necessary, apparently, if you want to get a phone, open a bank account, leave the country-- all of which I want to do]. After that, we went around, looking at a museum, going to the 99yen store[you guessed it-- the equivalent to the 99 cent store!], etc. Pretty chill stuff, riding around with Makiko-san.

And then...it started. My next date with Makiko wasn't until Monday.

Okay, so the undercurrent of all this is that I'm hella disappointed with the entire program. Now, while I suppose I could look at this as a free excursion, this whole "Japan" thing, let's say I don't. Let's say I look at myself as a normal student paying tuition without any financial aid/scholarships, like some of my other Tufts classmates. Um. I'm "paying" 40K a year for you to not pick me up from the airport, put me in a campus far, far removed from the actual city, drop me off in a box-like room, give me a three day orientation, etc. I also feel as if I'm the only one out of the Tufts students who feels this way, which isn't surprising, since they don't really have much to compare it to.

Truth be told, the orientation is a lot better than just...arriving here by yourself, like the non-Tufts students were. But in China, we were babied to the extreme: got picked up by our RD/coordinator at the airport, driven to our dorm, showed around the campus, had access to a dining hall in our dorm[important!], had little help notes of how to order food in Chinese, a month long orientation re-acquainting us with Chinese before our placement tests and touring us around the nearby area/country. The rooms in Japan might be a slight step up-- bigger furniture, a kitchen[though no stove...um]. The bathroom over here is a downgrade though, definitely. The dorm itself is also a downgrade-- in China, we had elevators, straight hallways, people to clean up the halls/take out the trash, a dining hall on the first floor, etc. Taking out the trash here is hella complicated, which I'll get to at another time. It was also just prettier-- this dorm is just cement and cold.

So, coming out of China, I'm pretty disappointed. But it might just be easier to do stuff in China, since everything is so cheap. Mm...cheap.

I really started getting angry starting Friday, though. When I got in Makiko's car, she asked me if I had breakfast. Now, as I'd arrived the day before, and my tour from one of the student advisors did not include restaurants/eateries/whatever, where was this breakfast supposed to be found? Or dinner the night before, for that matter?[Interesting point-- I heard Japanese people don't eat three times a day? I'm not sure, to be honest]

My ignorance only became sharper as I grew hungrier over the weekend. So, I ask a classmate-- what do people do to eat? Cook on their little hotplates. Dining halls are closed. Uhm. How do I get food to cook? Go to Jusco. Where's that? Huh? And he was busy with his girlfriend, so I didn't want to bother him too much.

On Saturday, as I was trying to find Jusco, just after I found the convenience store, I ran into Beck. She's very friendly, Australian, talkative and she was on her way to Juso herself, so I accompanied her.

It was just, like. If there is ONE THING IN THIS WORLD that I have on my mind every other second, it just MIGHT be food. So, the lack thereof can really drive me to do crazy things-- browse white nationalist forums like Stormfront, for example.[That was a trip...] Anyway, when I told Makiko on Monday, "Um, hi, but you keep asking me if I ate breakfast...where do I do this, exactly?" Haha. Apparently, my student tour guide was supposed to show me-- oops.

Okay, so now I know that dining halls are open. Great, great, great. Though they close at like 2 pm? Haha.

The weekend is pretty much characterized by my worrying about my next meal. So let's skip that.

What else on Monday. Makiko took me to the Kenrokuen Gardens, which are apparently one of Japan's three special gardens, or something. One is in Okayama, that I went to five years ago when I did my homestay. Didn't realize. We also went to see a castle.

To be honest, as much as this whole "Yay I'm in Asia thing" is pretty fun, the whole touring the historical parks/buildings/whatever bores me really fast. I think it's really just that while I might like the Japanese *language* I'm really not interested in the bowing, or the sushi, or the samurai, or the castles, or the whatever. Maybe I was in high school, but now? Nah. So I felt bad for Makiko, who had to drag an unexcited student around from place to place, though I tried to feign interest. I think all of the other kids here are Japanese majors.

Later that night was fun, however. It was apparently this girl Miki's birthday-- Miki's a student advisor in our dorm. So we all went out to nomihoudai-- which I guess is just a downgrade of an open bar? It's pretty much all you can drink for an hour. Which is a bad thing for me, since that just means I have to get my money's worth.

There were lots of people there though, so I got to meet everyone. "You studied in China!? Wow! Blah blah." Another problem that I need to address at another time is the girl problem that I'm having now. Um. "He's cute."? What do I do about that? And then you want to add me on facebook, where I have myself as interested in men? It's just awkward, I guess. I don't know why I've been having such problems with outness, but that's another entry.

Anyway, after about my third Awamori or so[Awamori is this Okinawan rice liquor-- it's similar to Vodka in alcohol level, but definitely easier to take], some of the kids were bowing out/eating/going for girly drinks. Whatever. The Slovenian girl and I kept going-- she's fun, too bad she's leaving next week.

Anyway, after Nomihoudai, we went a bunch of places-- Karaoke, where I got beer; McDonalds, where I got a burger and made everyone wait for me, apparently; some bar-restaurant place, where I did more shots of whiskey. Man, I was pretty messed up. The funny thing is, while I remember the night for the most part, I don't remember getting back to my room. But when I woke up the next morning, my head was pounding, my computer was in shambles[I usually use my computer from my bed, so I suppose we had a fight...my computer lost, clearly], I was wearing my pajamas, my facebook status said I was in love with someone-who-won't-be-named, etc. Weirdness. I guess that counts as blacking out? Haha.

Okay, so that was Monday. The rest of the week has been pretty calm-- I've just been hanging with people, trying to make friends, etc. I also have been studying a lot. I'm really concerned about what level of Japanese I'm going to take. The lowest level is AA, then it goes B-->C1-->C2-->D-->E-->F. Now, I should be better than my Tufts classmates-- while I started freshman year in Japanese 1, sophomore year I skipped out of two classes and moved into junior year Japanese[Japanese 21, 22], while they were still doing sophomore year Japanese.[Japanese 3, 4] But I'm not sure anymore-- Korey, who did the best on the placement test out of my Tufts classmates, did this intense Middlebury program the summer before and wound up in level C2. They certainly all speak faster than me, but that probably is because they've been here for a good six months already, while I'm still in Chinese mode. I was looking at Korey's textbook, and other than like two or three grammar patterns, I covered all of it back home already.[whether I can still use it properly is a different question, haha] Anyway, like with China, I have these dream goals-- for China, I wanted to get in level 4 Chinese.[Highest level is 6/7; I didn't make it to 4, got into 3.5...BUT I happened to land into the best class ever, so I'm not too disappointed] For Japan, I want to get into level E, since classes over here seem easier. We'll see. Luckily, the placement test is written, so my bad spoken Japanese won't be an indicator of my actual level.

So, that's academics. Um, I went out drinking again with the kids yesterday-- another nomihoudai. Pretty fun. Afterwards, McDonalds-- seems like a staple. Then we just hung out, went to Circle K, which is a nearby 24 hour convenience store. Etc. Wound up in bed like 2 or 3.

And that has pretty much been my Japanese adventure. Nothing too exciting. A few interesting tangentials:

1. People don't sake bomb in Japan!? I was asking about it, and apparently Japanese people don't sake bomb. I was shocked. Another American fraud!?

2. I miss China. And Chinese. Desperately. I mean, Japan is whatever, but I wasn't joking when I said I had the best class ever in China. We were amazing, all of us were like BFFs. The Koreans, who dominated the class, were amazing. So were the Japanese. And the Americans, the Euros and everyone else too, of course. In fact, I'm thinking of going back in April, if I can get my alien registration card.[I love, love, love having a stipend from Tufts...haha] My placement test is the 7th, so I figure if I can get my registration card the 1st, then I can fly out immediately and...holla! Each time I go on facebook and see new pictures, or talk to my old classmates on MSN, I just get nostalgic.[Which isn't to say I want to be there forever; China is certainly good in limited doses. The US is still the way to go.]

3. There are gay bars in Kanazawa. As great as straight kids are, really, it's just. Man, straight people can be so boring. I need to figure out how to check out these gay bars.

4. One of my coordinators found out info about my old homestay for me! Wow, throwback. Like, five years ago. Apparently my homestay partner is, like, out of college and has a full time job already. Geez, how depressing. But I'm gonna stop by their house and go to the school on Monday I hope, which should be fun. Very excited; I really liked that family. And apparently there are two kids from my high school as well, though I graduated before they started, so I probably don't know them.

I can't believe 2005 is so...long ago. I'm already about to graduate college...geez.

Alright, I don't do depression. I guess I'm gonna make my way to the dining hall.[I went there for the first time yesterday-- that also deserves a story! I swear, being Black in Asia...it never ends, it never ends, haha]

Later.

Fushigi na Sweet Escape.

2008-03-15T18:51:00.000-07:00

The title is a line from Crystal Kay's song, "Sugar Rain."

Three terms to make up for not having any recently:

Tendentious -- having or marked by a strong tendency especially a controversial one; "a tendentious account of recent elections"
Milquetoast -- sissy: a timid man or boy considered childish or unassertive
Sturm und Drang -- (the conventional translation is "Storm and Stress"; a more literal translation, however, might be storm and urge, storm and longing, or storm and impulse) is the name of a movement in German literature and music taking place from the late 1760s through the early 1780s in which individual subjectivity and, in particular, extremes of emotion were given free expression in response to the confines of rationalism imposed by the Enlightenment and associated aesthetic movements.

I ran into all of those on MyDD alone. Part of me is really incredulous that I still run into so many English words that I don't know-- it makes the notion of becoming erudite in any other language so forboding. Even after spending years and years reading, I guess you're never really independent of the dictionary. I know that there will always be words that you don't know but I prefer to think I'll never run into them-- that they'll stay in their corner of the unused world and will never bother me. But then they show their ugly prefixes...

But yeah, onto bigger things.

I know, I know-- I should be making a post about life, or the lack thereof, in Japan.[BUZZ! That should be a clue to the negativity and frustration you'll see I have about Japan when I do write my entry.] But I've been up since 5 AM or so, reading news about America and stuff. Stuff about the primaries specifically, of course.

A few things:

Are Americans actually willfully ignorant? I'm not so sure, but I keep hearing this repeated and am pretty sure this meme shapes the narrative to some degree. "Americans are lazy, so dialogue will get us no where." "Other Americans don't care, so obviously we're just going to hear this talking point repeated for the length of the election."

Reallly, though? I just wonder how people draw these conclusions-- I took a Law/Government class in high school and I think I might remember some pie charts about how influential thirty second talking heads and simple advertisements are. But at the time, I don't think I was savvy or invested enough to figure out how accurate these stats were, or if they didn't possibly represent other voter correlations, or who knows. I'm wondering about this meme specifically because it leads to a type of cynicism for inquiry-- "we can't continue to question this, because it will turn into a talking point for them; it will ruin the electability of our candidate; it's not unifying; etc."

This could just be me being naive and running off of Atlas Shrugged, but anything that discourages inquiry and thinking seems categorically immoral. That said, there probably are many facetious memes running around, along with messages crafted to have certain effects, but I disagree with the paternalistic "we don't need to talk about it because other people won't be smart enough to dissect it and figure things out for themselves" attitude.

This was prompted by reading MyDD's coverage of Obama's association with Pastor Wright.[I've long since stopped frequenting DailyKos as much as I used to-- I don't think I can deal with all the spin, even as an Obama supporter] If I were home, my aunt would definitely be living it up and would demand me to defend my candidate. I don't know how exactly I would-- I've known about Wright already. I'm unsure about why the story is only making big waves now, but there were smaller waves in the blogosphere months ago-- he's been related to this man for twenty years.

It might be that Obama really did have a free pass for so long. It might be that it's more profitable to build a candidate up and then have him crash down. I'm sure there are other possibilities.

Anyway, I've been wondering about this line of guilt-by-association for a while now. I was talking to Steven about disavowing the views of one's supporters late one night, that politicians are and should be expected to do all within their power to reject and denounce the view of anyone who might be construed to be a surrogate for their views. "Complicity is immoral." There was a reason for talking about it I think-- at the time, I was saying that McCain's non-endorsement=\= rejection, or whatever it was that Hillary was demanding from Obama when he received Farrakhan's support.[By the by, does anyone know any good sources for news? I've been trying to get access to actual transcripts, or at least things more substantial than one-two line quotes that you might find in articles. Or are those really the only ways people get news-- blogs, articles, tv, radio? Thanks.]
I think I forgot where I was going with this. Essentially where guilt-by-association begins and ends, I guess, because I think that we're supposed to compromise on some things, right? When two people of different faiths get married for example, assuming both parties aren't mutually committed to religious apathy or one party decides to convert. Or I don't know, maybe that's not as good of an example. I guess to draw an extreme case, I think I would be expected to still associate with my mother even if she was an extreme racist or Holocaust denier, for example.[Of course, this is different from Obama having Wright on his spiritual council, or whatever]

My point is, at some point guilt-by-association becomes null. I'm thinking about this now because I'm friends with people who have views I don't support-- "pro-Life"[I put the term in quotes because I believe the term is misleading]/pro-war/pro-gun rights/pro-communism/what have you. Of course, I'm also not a politician running for president and I don't have any of these people working as mouthpieces for me, trying to endorse me for this or that, running fundraisers for me, etc. But at some point compromise plays a part-- for me, I try to make friends with people I disagree with because I want to hear other people's views, because I'm wrong about a lot of things and I usually find out after hearing from other people. Hmm.

The dialogue about all this is, or was, a lot more developed in my head, but I seem to forget it as soon as my fingers touch the keys. Instead, I'm left with intro sentences that were supposed to lead to more thoughts that are no longer there.

I'm also wondering if I believe that idea about being complicit if you don't firmly state your position for or against something. I suppose I just don't remember why this is supposed to be a convincing argument, the whole complicity being wrong idea.

I had other non-Japan topics to discuss but, as is typical with me, I forgot them.

I also wonder what all this politics-stuff means for me-- I know I used to care more about politics in high school and became apathetic in college. The apathy seems to have disappeared during the primaries, especially now that I don't have class. It was the other day, while I was still in America, that I admitted out loud that I would like to be a politician-- especially after talking with my aunt about "compromise" when choosiing politicians, since politics is inevitably filthy and about choosing the lesser of two evils. This is really why I was wondering about my own guilt-by-association-- if I ever did run for politics, how many of my friends could be used against me? Of course, it's a little early.

My admission came from hanging with Perris before I went to Japan. I need to blog about him, I guess, though the edge is off now that we're in different hemispheres.[Right? I assume Japan is not Western Hemisphere, but geography was never my strong suite, ahaha. I guess I just find the idea that the Western Hemisphere is pretty much North and South Americas, with maybe of some Africa and Greenland, while the Eastern Hemisphere is everything else to be partly weird. The Earth is spherical, right? Hmm. Wikipedia time, perhaps.] Anyway, Perris is sort of a weird mix. About 70% Shawn-- nice/funny, but in a different way, from California, vegetarian, half-black/half-white...and something else that I forget. Then there's at least 20% Nakeefa since he's into public policy and has a similar sense of humor, I think. 10% is other, since he's short and relatively forthcoming about his sexual habits? I guess.

Sometimes, like now, I wonder if I'm too truthful in this rag, since I know at least some of the people I discuss or mention possibly read this thing. I think Summer was telling me once about how too much honesty can be a bad thing, or that being so forthcoming about things might show a lack of concern for the feelings of others-- what brought that conversation on was when I was name-dropping in other entry. But I guess I still have trouble wrapping my brain around it-- honesty is such a perfect maxim[Oh Kant, how right you were in this regard] that I can't help worshipping at its altar. I guess that presentation is supposed to be an important part of communication-- that rudeness is not a necessary component of honesty, that there's a proper way to present one's opinion. I guess I just wonder what "rudeness" is, exactly-- it's certainly not an objective thing, and I don't think I've ever come into an entry with an intention to hurt anybody. Maybe? Haha. It's also that the only people I know who might read this thing, I usually have no intention of hurting. So if I've been rude, I'd guess that rudeness can at least be independent of intention.

No rhyme or reason, just me letting some rambling thoughts spill from my head.

Hopefully I'll make my next entry about Japan. I even took pictures!

Later.

The Peaceful Disengage.

2008-03-13T14:02:00.000-07:00

So, I'm in Japan!

Man. I'll give the skinny of it all later.[I've been using "skinny" a lot lately]

So, right now, it's 6 AM[it's pretty much American East Coast Time + 13, btw] and I'm playing "Be Careful" by Sparkle and R.Kelly, wondering if I'm the first person to play this song over here. Probably not.

Alright, I should proably at least pretend to unpack.

Later.

The Run of the Clock.

2008-03-09T21:10:00.000-07:00

I wonder if I can make a post in five minutes.

Here's the skinny:

1. My aunt is a Hillary supporter. We got into it for at least an hour today-- it was very heated. "People don't like her because she is a woman. Barack is full of trash. He is not vested in the Black community." And of course the veiled suggestions that I was supporting him because I'm Black.

I love it, love it, love it. I also found out she managed to get my grandmother to vote for Hillary.

2. I'm leaving in two days. I feel as if the atmosphere is getting progressively sadder. I'm ready to get the fuck up out of here.[Home is great, but I feel as if the longer I stay, the longer the wound stays open. I just need to GO and get it over with.] I don't know how I feel. I should be looking forward to this trip but I'm realizing more and more how much I love home. Not Massachusetts, not Tufts, not China, not whatever-- Jersey City, NJ. Hmm.

3. The past few days, I've been called unemotional/callous/what have you way too many times. In fact, I feel as if I feel more than anyone I know-- it's my feelings[along with Catholic school] that give me such a strong need for discipline.

Just to be sure, though, I'm trying to do emo stuff today and watching Tyler Perry movies, seeing if I can cry. Hell might freeze over?

Hmmm. I don't know if I'm over five minutes.

Later.

Discoveries in Spring Time.

2008-03-07T11:17:00.000-08:00

So, was running a search for sex shops in Jersey City[I was curious! And I've never really been in a sex shop...well, maybe once] and I discovered this forum. It's for Jersey City residents to discuss Jersey City-- a brief scan makes me think that most of the posters are people who've recently moved here. I'm considering posting there and invite everyone else who lives here to do the same.

One thread that caught me in particular was this one. Especially because of the opening post:

"Recently there has begun to be a large group of young men in long white t-shirts who hang out on the corner across from my building. Trust me they are not up to any good. Have called JCPD non-emergency number a few times to report possible gang and or drug activity and have gotten little if any response. Wondering if anyone has any ideas or can help me find the right political route to go to address this issue."

It just reminded me of the old　television show Bewitched, when Samantha's vigilante housewife/neighbor would stay perched near the windows, watching for suspicious activity. haha.

I sometimes wonder if it's only me that hears the sixties in their arguments, if it's just me thinking that this sort of hyper-concerned preemptive watchfulness generally runs contrary to this innonent-until-proven-guilty idea that this country prides itself for.[In a lot of ways, it reminds me of The War on Terror/The War on Drugs on the part of the national government]

Of course, I get the concern-- you've now bought property in this place called Jersey City. You are committed, protective of your little condo in my hometown. So protective that you'll go to any lengths to get rid of anyone without the most Wall Street-like aspirations.

I get it, I get it.

I also love the suggestions to just take justice into their own hands and shoot up the "no good gang members"/urban kids wearing white shirts[they must be up to something! they're outside...socializing!]. Note to self: don't wear a white shirt, especially a shirt any size above XL.

The topic is two years old though, so maybe ideas have changed.

Ugh, this is the type of thing that makes me so, so, so exhausted and want to escape America.

"Do you know who I am?"

2008-03-07T00:13:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I know I've been on roll with semilegitimate posts about the primaries, but...

This entry is about why I love my friends. At Tufts, I have a few really, really close friends-- Meghan is one of them; we'll be living together next year. This is a gem from a little while ago. Disclaimer: Meghan's drunk, I'm sleepy, and the IMs don't necessarily reflect the views of either parfticipant...but they generally do. Also, excuse the misspellings, excessive laughing, all that.

Also, my computer is still on Chinese time[I go to Japan on Tuesday, so...I didnm't see the point of changing my clock]; the timestamps may say 3 pm, but it's actually 2 am or so because of the time difference.

Just, as a quick rule, subtract 1 from Chinese time and reverse the PM/AM.[So, in this case, 3 PM - 1 = 2pm, flipped pm/am = 2 am]

ETA: That was inappropriate. Sorry, but the IM has now been taken down.

Hip Hop and Obama are now BFFs.

2008-03-02T19:19:00.000-08:00

In case the Will.I.Am video didn't convince you. Russell Simmons is giving his endorsement to Obama, apparently.

From the article:

Turn on the radio station. There are a whole lot of songs that use the same language ... We've been permitting it in our homes, and in our schools and on iPods ... If it's not good for Don Imus, I don't know why it's good for us. If we don't like other people to degrade us, why are we degrading ourselves?"

Mr. Simmons did not agree that the two were comparable.

"People who are angry, uneducated and come from tremendous struggle, they have poetic license and they say things that offend you," Simmons said. "You have to talk about the conditions that create those kinds of lyrics. When you are talking about a privileged man who has a mainstream vehicle and mainstream support, and is on a radio station like that, you have to deal with them differently."

[+/-] Obama had told the South Carolina Legislative Black Caucus that "we've got to admit to ourselves, that it was not the first time that we heard the word 'ho.'[See more.]

From an artistic standpoint, I can understand where Russell Simmons is coming from-- black people taking curse words and slurs and making their use more commonplace might be reflective of a sort of trend Black people have made in America.

I can't say I know the context to both statements-- what the question being asked to Obama was[if it were more than just, "What is your reaction to the controversy surrounding Don Imus?"] and I also don't know if Simmons was responding to Obama's quote directly[though it seems as if it was].

I do think that Simmons is ignoring the main point of Obama's statement, though-- that we have been using these words to degrade ourselves for way too long. I've heard the arguments contrary-- that words only have power when you let them, that words can be transformed. But, last I heard, n---a still meant a n---a.

In order to have poetic/creative license, you have to have consciousness-- the awareness of the transformation you're making, of the rules you're breaking, of the new norms. you're creating. And I feel like a lot of black people are just unconscious.

But this also might be an overly academic way of looking at it. So many people use these words that should be hurtful, and I guess part of me is wondering if so many people can be so wrong?

[Of course they can. The same thing happened in Galileo's time.]

Thoughts appreciated, of course.

Kiss me: I'm liberated.

2008-02-28T21:41:00.000-08:00

Hmm. Life's been pretty tame lately.

What I've been thinking a lot about lately are the presidential elections and education.

1. Presidential Elections.

It might just be me, but in the tristate area at least, I feel as if media bias has shifted heavily towards Obama. I don't know when this happened. Maybe at some point during Obama's back-to-back wins in the primaries.

My thoughts are jumbled right now, so I'm not entirely sure how to make a coherent blog post. I was thinking about policy issues that are important for me, and I've got a few:

Education.
Iraq and Military intervention
Foreign Aid
Healthcare
Gay rights.
Regional policy[Particularly our relationship with China and the Middle East]

Education-wise, I'd like to think No Child Left Behind is great on paper. Increased accountability is always a good thing. But I'm not sure what the success rate is-- I know demagogues like to say it's a "complete failure", but I don't know what that means. In what ways? I'd like to think more kids are graduating and are better prepared than say, kids ten years ago. Or is the trend going in reverse? I feel like I have a lot to learn so I'm going to try to educate myself on US education. Haha.

Iraq is a failure. I'm not really sure any of the candidates have my full support on the Iraq turf, but McCain is by far the biggest failure what with his flip-flopping. I should put in a citation, but I distinctly remember his claim that a surge would not work around the 2004 primaries. And now he wants to claim that the surge is working and that his campaign is tied to voters' impressions that the surge has been successful.

Foreign Aid is more than just money. I don't know how else to say it-- I'm tired of American tax dollars going to unfriendly regimes and being squandered in whatever ways. Where is the accountability?

I'm not sure how I feel about healthcare, much less universal healthcare, to be honest.

I'd prefer to be able to marry someone and not be fired for being gay. Not sure how I feel about hate crime legislation.[Seems kind of wasteful to me, at least in homicide cases]

China's a toughy. I really feel as if Chinese people feel unaccountable for the things their government is doing right now-- trading with Sudan during mass murders[I suppose we've done similar things], not following human rights conventions towards its own populace. Development first, and then freedom and liberalism later? In a communist way of course. Actually, even after being there for six months, I'm still really ignorant.

I do like Barack's stance towards other Middle Eastern allies, which is possibly one of my biggest reasons for supporting him. I am so tired of the preferential and damaging treatment towards Israel.

So yeah. I think I'm gonna try to do more reading.

2. Education

With all of the school shootings we've been having, and the recent violence that's been happening in schools in Jersey City[I should cite some articles but...this is a lazy entry], I've been trying to figure out what the problem is.

I'm inclined to say it's philosophical, that it's something about kids' outlooks on life that has the most effect on the failure of our urban schools.

I don't think the problem is necessarily governmental. While I do think bad teachers, bad facilities and bad books might be part of the problem, I think not being able to focus on school, or not wanting to, is a bigger problem. I was talking to this boy who goes to Snyder High, a pretty bad school over here. And they got early last Thursday because of a shooting on the grounds. Like, damn.

There's a lot more to say but I'm strangely tired and can barely write coherent. Thoughts appreciated, as always.

<3s

Expect Ayn Rand Quotes. Edit: Who is James Baldwin?

2008-02-20T09:27:00.000-08:00

This entry is a work in progress, dedicated to pages and pages of Atlas Shrugged quotes.

I must say...emulating LJ-cut in Blogger is hella complicated.

Expect excerpts shortly.

In progress.

[+/-] Rand is my goddess.

ETA: I completely misunderestimated how long it would take me to type up all of these excerpts...my goodness. I've got like sixteen pages worth-- took hours. Next time, I'll probably just find some sort of Rand archive or something, haha.

I don't really think I expect people to read all of them, but each one covers a different topic: love, guilt, money, etc. It might be cool to browse for one you find interesting, but they're all very cool. There are four I recommend specifically: Francisco on love, which I have outside of the pseudo-ljcut, Francisco's defense of money, Hank,s defense in court, and Ragnar Danneskjold on Robin Hood. But all of them are great.

The following is an exchange between Francisco d'Aconia and Hank Rearden; Francisco has the reputation of being a playboy in the novel. This probably constitutes a spoiler, so if you want to be surprised by everthing in the novel, you probably shouldn't read this.

p489 of my edition:

“Do you know of your own first-hand knowledge that I spend my life running after women?”
“You’ve never denied it.”
“Denied it? I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to create the impression.”
“Do you mean to say that it isn’t true?”
“Do I strike you as a man with a miserable inferiority complex?”
“Good God, no!”
“Only that kind of man spends his life running after women.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you remember what I said about money and about the men who seek to reverse the law of cause and effect? The men who try to replace the mind by seizing the products of the mind? Well, the man who despises himself tries to gain self-esteem from sexual adventures—which can’t be done, because sex is not the cause, but an effect and an expression of a man’s sense of his own value.”
“You’d better explain that.”
“Did it ever occur to you that it’s the same issue? The men who think that wealth comes from material resources and has no intellectual root or meaning, are the men who think— for the same reason— that sex is a physical capacity which functions independently of one’s mind, choice, or code of values. They think that your body creates a desire and makes a choice for you—just about in some such way as if iron ore transformed itself into railroad rails of its own volition. Love is blind, they say; sex is impervious to reason and mocks the power of all philosophers. But, in fact, a man’s sexual choice is the result and the sum of his fundamental convictions. Tell me what a man finds attractive and I will tell you his entire philosophy of life. Show me the woman he sleeps with and I will tell you his valuation of himself. No matter what corruption he’s taught about the virtue of selflessness, sex is the most profoundly selfish of all acts, an act which he cannot perform for any motive but his own enjoyment— just try to think of performing it in a spirit of selfless charity! — an act which is not possible in self-abasement, only in self-exaltation, only in the confidence of being desired and being worthy of desire. It is an act that forces him to stand naked in spirit, as well as in body, and to accept his real ego as his standard of value. He will always be attracted to the woman who reflects his deepest vision of himself, the woman whose surrender permits him to experience— or to fake— a sense of self-esteem. The man who is proudly certain of his own value, will want the highest type of woman he can find, the woman he admires, the strongest, the hardest to conquer— because only the possession of a heroine will give him the sense of an achievement, not the possession of a brainless slut. He does not seek to…What’s the matter?” he asked, seeing the look on Rearden’s face, a look of intensity much beyond mere interest in an abstract discussion.
“Go on,” said Rearden tensely.
“He does not seek to gain his value, he seeks to express it. There is no conflict between the standards of his mind and the desires of his body. But the man who is convinced of his own worthlessness will be drawn to a woman he despises— because she will reflect his own secret self, she will release him from that objective reality in which he is a fraud, she will give him a momentary illusion of his own value and a momentary escape from the moral code that damns him. Observe the ugly mess which most men make of their sex lives— and observe the mess of contradictions which they hold as their moral philosophy. One proceeds from the other. Love is our response to our highest values— and can be nothing else. Let a man corrupt his values and his view of existence, let him profess that love is not self-enjoyment but self-denial, that virtue consists, not of pride, but of pity or pain or weakness or sacrifice, that the noblest love is born, not of admiration, but of charity, not in response to values, but in response to flaws— and he will have cut himself in two. His body will not obey him, it will not respond, it will make him impotent toward the woman he professes to love and draw him to the lowest type of whore he can find. His body will always follow the ultimate logic of his deepest convictions; if he believes that flaws are values, he has damned existence as evil and only the evil will attract him. He has damned himself and he will feel that depravity is all he is worthy of enjoying. He has equated virtue with pain and he will feel that vice is the only realm of pleasure. Then he will scream that his body has vicious desires of its own which his mind cannot conquer, that sex is sin, that true love is a pure emotion of the spirit. And then he will wonder why love brings him nothing but boredom, and sex—nothing but shame.”

Rearden said slowly, looking off, not realizing that he was thinking aloud, “At least…I’ve never accepted that other tenet…I’ve never felt guilty about making money.”
Francisco missed the significance of the first two words; he smiled and said eagerly, “You do see that it’s the same issue? No, you’d never accept any part of their vicious creed. You wouldn’t be able to force it upon yourself. If you tried to damn sex as evil, you’d still find yourself, against your will, acting on the proper moral premise. You’d be attracted to the highest woman you met. You’d always want a heroine. You’d be incapable of self-contempt. You’d be unable to believe that existence is evil and that you’re a helpless creature caught in an impossible universe. You’re the man who’s spent his life shaping matter to the purpose of his mind. You’re the man who would know that just as an idea unexpressed in physical action unguided by an idea is a fool’s self-fraud, so is sex when cut off from one’s code of values. It’s the same issue, and you would know it. Your inviolate sense of self-esteem would know it. You would be incapable of desire for a woman you despised. Only the man who extols the purity of a love devoid of desire, is capable of the depravity of a desire devoid of love. But observe that most people are creatures cut in half who keep swinging desperately to one side or to the other. One kind of half is the man who despises money, factories, skyscrapers, and his own body. He holds undefined emotions about non-conceivable subjects as the meaning of life and as his claim to virtue. And he cries with despair, because he can feel nothing for the women he respects, but finds himself in bondage to an irresistible passion for a slut from the gutter. He is the man whom people call an idealist. The other kind of half I the man whom people call practical, the man who despises principles, abstractions, art, philosophy and his own mind. He regards the acquisition of material objects as the only goal of existence— and he laughs at the need to consider their purpose or their source. He expects them to give him pleasure— and he wonders why the more he gets, the less he feels. He is the ma n who spends his time chasing women. Observe the triple fraud which he perpetrates upon himself. He will not acknowledge his need of self-esteem, since he scoffs at such a concept as moral values; yet he feels the profound self-contempt which comes from believing that he is a piece of meat. He will not acknowledge, but he knows that sex is the physical expression of a tribute to personal values. So he tries, by going through the motions of the effect, to acquire that which should have been the cause. He tries to gain a sense of his own value from the women who surrender to him— and he forgets that the women he picks have neither character nor judgment nor standard of value. He tells himself that all he’s after is physical pleasure— but observe that he tires of his women in a week or a night, that he despises professional whores and that he loves to imagine he is seducing virtuous girls who make a great exception for his sake. It is the feeling of achievement that he seeks and never finds. What glory can there be in the conquest of a mindless body? Now that is your woman-chaser. Does the description fit me?”
“God, no!”
“Then you can judge, without asking my word for it, how much chasing of women I’ve done in my life.”
“But what on earth have you been doing on the front pages of newspapers for the last— isn’t it twelve— years?”
“I’ve spent a lot of money on the most ostentatiously vulgar parties I could think of, and a miserable amount of time being seen with appropriate sort of women. As for the rest--” he stopped, then said, “I have some friends who know this, but you are the first person to whom I am confiding it against my own rules: I have never slept with any of those women. I have never touched one of them.”
“What is more incredible than that, is that I believe you.”
The lamp on the floor beside him threw broken bits of light across Francisco’s face, as he leaned forward; the face had a look of guiltless amusement. “If you care to glance over those front pages, you’ll see that I’ve never said anything. It was the women who were eager to rush into print with the stories insinuating that being seen with me at a restaurant was the sign of a great romance. What do you suppose those women are after but the same thing as the chaser— the desire to gain their own value from the number and fame of the men they conquer? Only it’s one step phonier, because the value they seek is not even in the actual fact, but in the impression on and the envy of other women. Well, I gave those bitches what they wanted— but what they literally wanted, without the pretense that they expected, the pretense that hides from them the nature of their wish. Do you think they wanted to sleep with me or with any man? They wouldn’t be capable of so real and honest a desire. They wanted food for their vanity— and I gave it to them. I gave them the chance to boast to their friends and to see themselves in the scandal sheets in the roles of great seductresses. But do you know that it works exactly the same way as what you did at your trial? If you want to defeat any kind of vicious fraud— comply with it literally, adding nothing of your own to disguise its nature. Those women understood. They saw whether there’s any satisfaction in being envied by others for a feat one has not achieved. Instead of self-esteem, their publicized romances with me have given them a deeper sense of inferiority: each one of them knows that she’s tried and failed. If dragging me into bed is supposed to be her public standard of value, she knows that she couldn’t live up to it. I think those women hate me more than any other man on earth. But my secret is safe— because each one of them thinks that she was the only one who failed, while all the others succeeded, so she’ll be the more vehement in swearing to our romance and will never admit the truth to anybody.”
“But what have you done to your own reputation?”
Francisico shrugged. “Those whom I respect, will know the truth about me, sooner or later. The others”— his face hardened—“the others consider that which I really am as evil. Let them have what they prefer— what I appear to be on the front pages.”
“But what for? Why did you do it? Just to teach them a lesson?”
“Hell, no! I wanted to be known as a playboy.”
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p396, Cherryl, at her wedding to Jim Taggart, and Dagny, Jim's sister.

“There’s something I want you to know,” said Cherryl, her voice taught and harsh, “so that there won’t be any pretending about it. I’m not going to put on the sweet relative act. I know what you’ve done to Jim and how you’ve made him miserable all his life. I’m going to protect him against you. I’ll put you in your place. I’m Mrs. Taggart. I’m the woman in this family now.”
“That’s quite all right,” said Dagny. “I’m the man.”
Cherryl watched her walk away, and thought that Jim had been right: this sister of his was a creature of cold evil who had given her no response, no acknowledgement, no emotion of any kind except a touch of something that looked like an astonished, indifferent amusement.
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P410, Francisco's epic defense of the virtue of money.

"So you think money is the root of all evil?" said Francisco d'Aconia. "Have you ever asked what is the root of money? Money is a tool of exchange, which can't exist unless there are goods produced and men able to produce them. Money is the material shape of the principle that men who wish to deal with one another must deal by trade and give value for value. Money is not the tool of the moochers, who claim your product by tears, or of the looters, who take it from you by force. Money is made possible only by the men who produce. Is that what you consider evil?
“When you accept money in payment for your effort, you do so only on the conviction that you will exchange it for the product of the effort of others. It is not the moochers or the looters who give value to money. Not an ocean of tears nor all the guns in the world can transform those pieces of paper in your wallet into the bread you will need to survive tomorrow. Those pieces of paper, which should have been gold, are a token of honor-- your claim upon the energy of the men who produce. Your wallet is your statement of hope that somewhere in the world around you there are men who will not default on that moral principle which is the root of money. Is that what you consider evil?
“Have you ever looked for the root of production? Take a look at an electric generator and dare tell yourself that it was created by the muscular effort of unthinking brutes. Try to grow a seed of wheat without the knowledge left to you by men who had to discover it for the first time. Try to obtain your food by means of nothing but physical motions—and you’ll learn that man’s mind is the root of all the goods produced and of all the wealth that has ever existed on earth.
“But you say that money is made by the strong at the expense of the weak? What strength do you mean? It is not the strength of guns or muscles. Wealth is the product of man’s capacity to think. Then it is money made by the man who invents a motor at the expense of those who did not invent it? Is money made by the intelligent at the expense of the fools? By the able at the expense of the incompetent? By the ambitious at the expense of the lazy? Money is made—before it can be looted or mooched—made by the effort of every honest man, each to the extent of his ability. An honest man is one who knows that he can’t consume more than he has produced.
“To trade by means of money is the code of the men of good will. Money rests on the axiom that every man is the owner of his mind and his effort. Money allows no power to prescribe the value of your effort except the voluntary choice of the man who is willing to trade you his effort in return. Money permits you to obtain for your goods and your labor that which they are worth to the men who buy them, but no more. Money permits no deals except those to mutual benefit by the unforced judgment of the traders. Money demands of you the recognition that men must work for their own benefit, not for their own injury, for their gain, not their loss—the recognition that they are not beasts of burden, born to carry the weight of your misery—that you must offer them values not wounds—that the common bond among men is not the exchange of suffering, but the exchange of goods. Money demands that you sell, not your weakness to men’s stupidity, but your talent to their reason; it demands that you buy, not the shoddiest they offer, but the best that your money can find. And when men live by trade—with reason, not force, as their final arbiter—it is the best product that wins, the best performance, the man of best judgment and highest ability—and the degree of a man’s productiveness is the degree of his reward. This is the code of existence whose tool and symbol is money. Is that what you consider evil?
“But money is only a tool. It will take you wherever you wish, but it will not replace you as the driver. It will give you the means for the satisfaction of your desires, but it will not provide you with desires. Money is the scourge of the men who attempt to reverse the law of causality—the men who seek to replace the mind by seizing the products of the mind.
“Money will not purchase happiness for the man who has no concept of what he wants; money will not give him a code of values, if he’s evaded the knowledge of what to value, and it will not provide him with a purpose, if he’s evaded the choice of what to seek. Money will not buy intelligence for the fool, or admiration for the coward, or respect for the incompetent. The man who attempts to purchase the brains of his superiors to serve him, with his money replacing his judgment, ends up becoming the victim of his inferiors. The men of intelligence desert him, but the cheats and the frauds come flocking to him, drawn by a law which he has not discovered: that no man may be smaller than his money. Is this the reason why you call it evil?
“Only the man who does not need it, is fit to inherit wealth—the man who would make his own fortune no matter where he started. If an heir is equal to his money, it serves him; if not, it destroys him. But you look on and you cry that money corrupted him. Did it? Or did he corrupt his money? Do not envy a worthless heir; his wealth is not yours and you would have done no better with it. Do not think that it should have been distributed among you; loading the world with fifty parasites instead of one, would not bring back the dead virtue which was the fortune. Money is a living power that dies without its root. Money will not serve the mind that cannot match it. Is this the reason why you call it evil?
“Money is your means of survive. The verdict you pronounce upon the source of your livelihood is the verdict you pronounce upon your life. If the source is corrupt, you have damned your own existence. Did you get your money by fraud? By pandering to men’s vices or men’s stupidity? By catering to fools, in the hopes of getting more than your ability deserves? By lowering your standards? BY doing work you desire for purchasers you scorn? If so, then your money will not give you a moment’s or a penny’s worth of joy. Then all the things you buy will become, not a tribute to you, but a reproach; not an achievement, but a reminder of shame. Then you’ll scream that money is evil. Evil, because it would not pinch-hit for your self-respect? Evil, because it would not let you enjoy your depravity? Is this the root of your hatred of money?
“Money will always remain an effect and refuse to replace you as the cause. Money is the product of virtue, but it will not give you virtue and it will not redeem your vices. Money will not give you the unearned, neither in matter nor in spirit. Is this the root of your hatred of money?
“Or did you say it’s the love of money that’s the root of all evil? To love a thing is to know and love its nature. To love money is to know and love the fact that money is the creation of the best power within you, and your passkey to trade your effort for the effort of the best among men. It’s the person who would sell his soul for a nickel, who is loudest in proclaiming his hatred of money—and he has good reason to hate it. The lovers of money are willing to work for it. They know they are able to deserve it.
“Let me give you a tip on a clue to men’s characters: the man who damns money has obtained it dishonorably; the man who respects it has earned it.
“Run for your life from any man who tells you that money is evil. That sentence is the leper’s bell of an approaching looter. So long as men live together on earth and need means to deal with one another—their only substitute, if they abandon money, is the muzzle of a gun.
“But money demands of you the highest virtues, if you wish to make it or to keep it. Men who have no courage, pride or self-esteem, men who have no moral sense of their right to their money and are not willing to defend it as they defend their life, men who apologize for being rich—will not remain rich for long. They are the natural bait fore the swarms of looters that stay under rocks for centuries, but come crawling out at the first smell of a man who begs to be forgiven for the guilt of owning wealth. They will hasten to relieve him of the guilt—and of his life, as he deserves.
“Then you will see the rise of men of the double standard—the men who live by force, yet count on those who live by trade to create the value of their looted money—the men who are the hitchhikers of virtue. In a moral society, these are the criminals, and the statutes are written to protect you against them. But when a society establishes criminals-by-right and looters-by-law— men who use force to seize the wealth of disarmed victims—then money becomes its creators’ avenger. Such looters believe it safe to rob defenseless men, once they’ve passed a law to disarm them. But their loot becomes the magnet for other looters, who get it from them as they got it. Then the race goes, not to the ablest at production, but to those most ruthless at brutality. When force is the standard, the murderer wins over the pickpocket. And then that society vanishes, in a spread of ruins and slaughter.
“Do you wish to know whether that day is coming? Watch money. Money is the barometer of a society’s virtue. When you see that trading is done, not by consent, but by compulsion—when you say that in order to produce, you need to obtain permission from men who produce nothing—when you see that money is flowing to those who deal, not in goods, but in favors—when you see that men get richer by graft and by pull than by work, and your laws don’t protect you against them, but protect them against you—when you see corruption being rewarded and honesty becoming a self-sacrifice—you may know that your society is doomed. Money is so noble a medium that it does not compete with guns and it does not make terms with brutality. It will not permit a country to survive as half-property, half-loot.
“Whenever destroyers appear among men, they start by destroying money, for money is men’s protection and the base of a moral existence. Destroyers seize gold and leave to its owners a counterfeit pile of paper. This kills all objective standards and delivers men into the arbitrary power of an arbitrary setter of values. Gold was an objective value, an equivalent of wealth produced. Paper is a mortgage on wealth that does not exist, backed by a gun aimed at those who are expected to produce it. Paper is a check drawn by legal looters upon an account which is not theirs; upon the virtue of the victims. Watch for the day when it bounces, marked: ‘Account overdrawn.’
“When you have made evil the means of survival, do not expect men to remain good. Do not expect them to stay moral and lose their lives for the purpose of becoming the fodder of the immoral. Do not expect them to produce when production is punished and looting rewarded. Do not ask, ‘who is destroying the world?’ You are.
“You stand in the midst of the greatest achievements of the greatest productive civilization and you wonder why it’s crumbling around you, while you’re damning its life-blood—money. You look upon money as the savages did before you, and you wonder why the jungle is creeping back to the edge of your cities. Throughout men’s history, money was always seized by looters of one brand or another, whose names changed, but whose method remained the same: to seize wealth by force and to keep the producers bound, demeaned, defamed, deprived of honor. That phrase about the evil of money, which you mouth with such righteous recklessness, comes from a time when wealth was produced by the labor of slaves—slaves who repeated the motions once discovered by somebody’s mind and left unimproved for centuries. So long as production was ruled by force, and wealth was obtained by conquest, there was little to conquer. Yet through all the centuries of stagnation and starvation, men exalted the looters, as aristocrats of the sword, as aristocrats of birth, as aristocrats of the bureau, and despised the producers, as slaves, as traders, as shopkeepers—as industrialists.
“To the glory of mankind, there was, for the first and only time in history, a country of money—and I have no higher, more reverent tribute to pay to America, for this means: a country of reason, justice, freedom, production, achievement. For the first time, man’s mind and money were set free, and there were no fortunes-by-conquest, but only fortunes-by-work, and instead of swordsmen and slaves, there appeared the real maker of wealth, the greatest worker, the highest type of human being—the self-made man—the American industrialist.
“If you ask me to name the proudest distinction of Americans, I would choose—because it contains all the others—the fact that they were the people who created the phrase ‘to make money.’ No other language or nation as a static quantity—to be seized, begged, inherited, shared, looted or obtained as a favor. Americans were the first to understand that wealth has to be created. The words ‘to make money’ hold the essence of human morality.
“Yet these were the words for which Americans were denounced by the rotted cultures of the looters’ continents. Now the looters’ credo has brought you to regard your proudest achievements as a hallmark of shame, your prosperity as guilt, your greatest men, the industrialists, as blackguards, and your magnificent factories as the product and property of muscular labor, the labor of whip-driven slaves, like the pyramids of Egypt. The rotter who simpers that he sees no difference between the power of the dollar and the power of the whip, ought to learn the difference of his own hide—as, I think, he will.
“Until and unless you discover that money is the root of all good, you ask for your own destruction. When money ceases to be the tool by which men deal with one another, then men become the tools of men. Blood, whips and guns— or dollars. Take your choice—there is no other—and your time is running out.
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p436, Dr. Ferris explaining the government agenda to Hank Rearden.

“Did you really think that we want those laws to be observed?” said Dr. Ferris. “We want them broken. You’d better get it straight that it’s not a bunch of boy counts you’re up against—then you’ll know that this is not the age for beautiful gestures. We’re after power and we mean it. You fellows were pikers, but we know the real trick, and you’d better get wise to it. There’s no way to rule innocent men. The only power any government has is the power to crack down on criminals. Well, when there aren’t enough criminals, one makes them. One declares so many things to be a crime that it becomes impossible for men to live without breaking laws. Who wants a nation of law-abiding citizens? What’s there in that for anyone? But just pass the kind of laws that can neither be observed nor enforced nor objectively interpreted—and you create a nation of law-breakers—and then you cash in on guilt. Now that’s the system, Mr. Rearden, that’s the game, and once you understand it, you’ll be much easier to deal with.”
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p455, Francisco's explanation to Hank Rearden of his guilt.

“You’re guilty of a great sin, Mr. Rearden, much guiltier than they tell you, but not in the way they preach. The worst guilt is to accept an undeserved guilt—and that is what you’ve been doing all your life. You have been paying blackmail, not for your vices, but for your virtues. You have been willing to carry the load of an unearned punishment—and to let it grow the heavier the greater the virtues you practiced. But your virtues were those which keep men alive. Your own moral code—the one you lived by, but never stated, acknowledged or defended—was the code that preserves a mans existence. If you were punished for it, what was the nature of those who punished you? Yours was the code of life? What, then, is theirs? What standard of value lies at its root? What is the ultimate purpose? Do you think that what you’re facing is merely a conspiracy to seize your wealth? You, who know the source of wealth, should know it’s much more and much worse than that. Did you ask me to name man’s motive power? Man’s motive power is his moral code. Ask yourself where their code is leading you and what it offers you as your final goal. A viler evil than to murder a man, is to sell him suicide as an act of virtue. A viler evil than to throw a man into a sacrificial furnace, is to demand that he leap in, of his own will, and that he build the furnace, besides. By their own statement, it is they who need you and have nothing to offer you in return. By their own statement, you must support them because they cannot survive without you. Consider the obscenity of offering their impotence and their need—their need of you—as a justification for your torture. Are you willing to accept it? Do you care to purchase—at the price of your great endurance, at the price of your agony—the satisfaction of the needs of your own destroyers?”
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p463, Lillian, in her tirade with her husband at Thanksgiving.

“Is it necessary for me to point out that in your case it’s nothing but hypocrisy? That is why I find your attitude preposterous. Questions of right have no bearing on human existence. And you’re certainly nothing but human—aren’t you, Henry? You’re no better than any of the men you’re going to face tomorrow. I think you should remember that it’s not for you to make a stand on any sort of principle. Maybe you’re a victim in this particular mess, maybe they’re pulling a rotten trick on you, but what of it? They’re doing it because they’re weak; they couldn’t resist the temptation to grab your Metal and to muscle in on your profits, because they had no other way of ever getting rich. Why should you blame them? It’s only a question of different strains, but it’s the same shoddy human fabric that gives way just as quickly. You wouldn’t be tempted by money, because it’s easy for you to make it. But you wouldn’t withstand other pressures and you’d fall just as ignominiously. Wouldn’t you? So you have no right to any righteous indignation against them. You have no moral superiority to assert or to defend. And if you haven’t, then what is the point of fighting a battle that you can’t win? I suppose one might find some satisfaction in being a martyr, if one is above reproach. But you—who are you to cast the first stone?”
She paused to observe the effect. There was none, except that his look of attentive interest seemed intensified; he listened as if he were held by some sort of impersonal, scientific curiosity. It was not the response she had expected.
“I believe you understand me,” she said.
“No,” he answered quietly, “I don’t.”
“I think you should abandon the illusion of your own perfection, which you know full well to be an illusion. I think you should learn to get along with other people. The day of the hero is past. This is the day of humanity, in a much deeper sense than you imagine. Human beings are no longer expected to be saints nor to be punished for their sins. Nobody is right or wrong, we’re all in it together, we’re all human—and the human is the imperfect. You’ll gain nothing tomorrow by proving that they’re wrong. You ought to give in with good grace, simply because it’s the practical thing to do. You ought to keep silent, precisely because they’re wrong. They’ll appreciate it. Make concessions for others and they’ll make concessions for you. Live and let live. Give and take. Gin in and take in. That’s the policy of our age—and it’s time you accepted it. Don’t tell me you’re too good for it. You know that you’re not. You know that I know it. ”
The look of his eyes, held raptly still upon some point in space, was not in answer to her words, it was in answer to a man’s voice saying to him, “Do you think that what you’re facing is merely a conspiracy to seize your wealth? You, who know the source of wealth, should know it’s much more and much worse than that.
He turned to look at Lillian. He was seeing the full extent of her failure—in the immensity of his own indifference. The droning stream of her insults was like the sound of a distant riveting machine, a long, impotent pressure that reached nothing within him. He had heard her studied reminders of his guilt on every evening he had spent at home in the past three months. But guilt had been the one emotion he had found himself unable to feel. The punishment she had wanted to inflict on him was the torture of shame; what she had inflicted was the torture of boredom.
He remembered his brief glimpse—on that morning in the Wayne-Falkland Hotel—of a flaw in her scheme of punishment, which he had not examined. Now he had stated it to himself for the first time. She wanted to force upon him the suffering of dishonor—but his own sense of honor was her only method of enforcement. She wanted to wrest from him an acknowledgement of his moral depravity—but only his own moral rectitude could attach significance to such a verdict. She wanted to injure him by her contempt—but he could not be injured, unless he respected her judgment. She wanted to punish him for the pain he had caused her and she held her pain as a gun aimed at him, as if she wished to extort his agony at the point of his pity. But only tool was his own benevolence, his concern for her, his compassion. Her only power was the power of his own virtues. What if he chose to withdraw it?
An issue of guilt, he thought, had to rest on his own acceptance of the code of justice that pronounced him guilty. He did not accept it; he never had. His virtues, all the virtues she needed to achieve his punishment, came from another code and lived by another standard. He felt no guilt, no shame, no regret, no dishonor. He felt no concern for any verdict she chose to pass upon him; he had lost any respect for her judgment long ago. And the sole chain holding him was only a last remnant of pity.
But what was the code on which she acted? What sort of code permitted the concept of a punishment that required the victim’s own virtue as the fuel to make it work? A code—he thought—which would destroy only those who tried to observe it; a punishment, from which only the honest would suffer, while the dishonest would escape unhurt. Could one conceive of an infamy lower than to equate virtue with pain, to make virtue, not vice, the source and motive power of suffering? If he were the kind of rotter she was struggling to make him believe he was, then no issue of his honor and his moral worth would matter to him. If he wasn’t, then what was the nature of her attempt?
To count upon his virtue and use it as an instrument of torture, to practice blackmail with the victim’s generosity as sole means of extortion, to accept the gift of a man’s good will and turn it into a tool for the giver’s destruction…he sat very still, contemplating the formula of so monstrous an evil that he was able to name it, but not to believe it possible.
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p476, Hank Rearden's trial in court

One of the judges, acting as prosecutor, had read the charges. “You may now offer whatever plea you wish to make in your own defense,” he announced.
Facing the platform, his voice inflectionless and peculiarly clear, Hank Rearden answered:“I have no defense.”
“Do you--” The judge stumbled; he had not expected it to be that easy. “Do you throw yourself upon the mercy of this court?”
“I do not recognize this court’s right to try me.”
“What?”
“I do not recognize this court’s right to try me.”
“But, Mr. Rearden, this is the legally appointed court to try this particular category of crime.”
“I do not recognize my action as a crime.”
“But you have admitted that you have broken regulations controlling the sale of your Metal.”
“I do not recognize your right to control the sale of my Metal.”
“It is necessary for me to point out that your recognize was not required?”
“No. I am fully aware of it and I am acting accordingly.”
He noted the stillness of the room. By the rules of the complicated pretense which all those people played for another’s benefit, they should have considered his stand as incomprehensible folly; there should have been rustles of astonishment and derision; there were none; they sat still; they understood.
“Do you mean that you are refusing to obey the law?” asked the judge.
“No. I am complying with the law—to the letter. Your law holds that my life, my work, and my property may be disposed of without my consent. Very well, you may now dispose of me without my participation in the matter. I will not play the part of defending myself, where no defense is possible, and I will not simulate the illusion of dealing with a tribunal of justice.”
“But, Mr. Rearden, the law provides specifically that you are to be given an opportunity to present your side of the case and to defend yourself.”
“A prisoner brought to trial can defend himself only if there is an objective principle of justice recognized by his judges, a principle upholding his rights, which they may not violate and which he can invoke. The law, by which you are trying me, holds that there are no principles, that I have no rights, and that you may do with me whatever you like. Very well. Do it.”
“Mr. Rearden, the law which you are denouncing is based on the highest principle—the principle of public good.”
“Who is the public? What does it hold as its good? There was a time when men believed that ‘the good’ was a concept to be defined by a code of moral valued and that no man had the right to seek his good through the violation of the rights of another. If it is now believed that my fellow men may sacrifice me in any manner they please for the sake of whatever they deem to be their own good, if they believe that they may seize my property simply because they need it—well, so does any burglar. There is only one difference: the burglar does not ask me to sanction his act.”
…
“It is completely irregular,” said the second judge. “The law requires you to submit a plea in your own defense. Your only alternative is to state for the record that you throw yourself upon the mercy of the court.”
“I do not.”
“But you have to.”
“Do you mean that what you expect from me is some sort of voluntary action?”
“Yes.”
“I volunteer nothing.”
“But the law demands that the defendant’s side be represented on the record.”
“Do you mean that you need my help to make this procedure legal?”
“Well, no…yes…that is, to complete the form.”
“I will not help you.”
The third and youngest judge, who had acted as prosecutor, snapped impatiently, “This is ridiculous and unfair! Do you want to let it look as if a man of your prominence had been railroaded without a--” He cut himself off short. Somebody at the back of the courtroom emitted a long whistle”.
“I want’ said Rearden gravely, “to let the nature of this procedure appear exactly for what it is. If you need my help to disguise it—I will not help you.”
“But we are giving you a chance to defend yourself—and it is you who are rejecting it.”
“I will not help you to pretend that I have a chance. I will not help you to preserve an appearance of righteousness where rights are not recognized. I will not help you to preserve an appearance of rationality by entering a debate in which a gun is the final argument. I will not help you to pretend that you are administering justice.”
“But the law compels you to volunteer a defense!”
There was laughter at the back of the courtroom.
“That is the flaw in your theory, gentlemen,” said Rearden gravely, “and I will not help you out of it. If you choose to deal with men by means of compulsion, do so. But you will discover that you need the voluntary co-operation of your victims, in many more ways than you can see at present. And your victims should discover that it is their own volition—which you cannot force—that makes you possible. I choose to be consistent and I will obey you in the manner you demand. Whatever you wish me to do, I will do it at the point of a gun. If you sentence me to jail, you will have to send armed me n to carry me there—I will not volunteer to move. If you fine me, you will have to seize my property to collect the fine—I will not volunteer to pay it. If you believe that you have the right to force me—use your guns openly. I will not help you to disguise the nature of your action.”
The eldest judge leaned forward across the table and his voice became suavely derisive: “You speak as if you were fighting for some sort of principle, Mr. Rearden, but what you’re actually fighting for is only your own property, isn’t it?”
“Yes, of course. I am fighting for my property. Do you know what kind of principle that represents?”
“You pose as a champion of freedom, but it’s only the freedom to make money that you’re after.”
“Yes, of course. All I want is the freedom to make money. Do you know what freedom implies?”
“Surely, Mr. Rearden, you wouldn’t want your attitude to be misunderstood. You wouldn’t want to give support to the widespread impression that you are a man devoid of social conscience, who feels no concern for the welfare of his fellows and works for nothing but his own profit.”
“I work for nothing but my own profit. I earn it.”
There was a gasp, not of indignation, but of astonishment, in the crowd behind him and silence from the judges he faced. He went on calmly.
“No, I do not want my attitude to be misunderstood. I shall be glad to state it for the record. I am in full agreement with the facts of everything said about me in the newspapers—with the facts, but not with the evaluation. I work for nothing but my own profit— which I make by selling a product they need to men who are willing and able to buy it. I do not produce it for their benefit t at the expense of mine, and they do not buy it for my benefit at the expense of theirs; I do not sacrifice my interests to them nor do they sacrifice theirs to me; we deal as equals by mutual consent to mutual advantage— and I am proud of every penny that I own. I have made my money by my own effort, in free exchange and through the voluntary consent of every man I dealt with— the voluntary consent of those who employed me when I started, the voluntary consent of those who work for me now, the voluntary consent of those who buy my product. I shall answer all the questions you are afraid to ask me openly. Do I wish to pay my workers more than their services are worth to me? I do not. Do I wish to sell it at a loss or give it away? I do not. If this is evil, do whatever you please about me, according to whatever standards you hold. These are mine. I am earning my own living, as every honest man must. I refuse to accept as guilt the fact of my own existence and the fact that I must work in order to it. I refuse to accept as guilt the fact that I am able to do it and do it well. I refuse to apologize for my ability— I refuse to apologize for my success— I refuse to apologize for my money. If this is evil, make the most of it. If this is what the public finds harmful to its interests, let the public destroy me. This is my code— and I will accept no other. I could say to you that I have done more good for my fellow men than you can ever hope to accomplish—but I will not say it, because I do not seek the good of others as a sanction for my right to exist, nor do I recognize the good of others as a justification for their seizure of my property or their destruction of my life. I will not say that the good of others was the purpose of my work— my own good was my purpose, and I despise the man who surrenders his. I could say to you that you do not serve the public good— that nobody’s good can be achieved at the price of human sacrifices—that when you violate the rights of one man, you have violated the rights of all, and a public of rightless creatures is doomed to destruction. I could say to you that you will and can achieve nothing but universal devastation—as any looter must, when he runs out of victims. I could say it, but I won’t. It is not your particular theory that I challenge, but your moral premise. If it were true that men could achieve their good by means of turning some men into sacrificial animals, and I were asked to immolate myself for the sake of creatures who wanted to survive at the price of my blood, if I were asked to serve the interests of society apart from, above and against my own— I would refuse, I would reject it as the most contemptible evil, I would fight it with every power I possess, I would fight the whole of mankind, if one minute were all I could last before I were murdered, I would fight in the full confidence of the justice of my battle and of a living being’s right to exist. Let there be no misunderstanding about me. If it is now the belief of my fellow men, who call themselves the public, that their good requires victims, then I say: The public good be damned, I will have no part of it! ”
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P531, Lillian Rearden, attacking Dagny's character to her husband Hank

“Miss Dagny Taggart…” she said, and chuckled. “The superwoman whom common, average wives were not supposed to suspect. The woman who cared for nothing but business and dealt with men as a man. The woman of a great spirit who admired you platonically, just for your genius, your mills, and your Metal!” She chuckled. “I should have known that she was just a bitch who wanted you in the same way as any any bitch would want you— because you are fully as expert in bed as you are at a desk, if I am a judge of such matters. But she would appreciate that better than I, since she worships expertness of any kind and since she has probably been laid by every section hand on her railroad!”
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P541, Dr. Ferris, explaining the fallacy of genius

“Genius is a superstition, Jim” said Dr. Ferris slowly, with an odd kind of emphasis, as if knowing that he was naming the unnamed in their minds. “There’s no such thing as the intellect. A man’s brain is a social product. A sum of influences that he’s picked up from those around him. Nobody invents anything, he merely reflects what’s floating in the social atmosphere. A genius is an intellectual scavenger and a greedy hoarder of the ideas which rightfully belong to society, from which he stole them. All thought is theft. If we do away with private fortunes, we’ll have a fairer distribution of wealth. If we do away with the genius, we’ll have a fairer distribution of ideas.”
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P546, Fred, on the weakness of intellectuals

“They won’t” said Fred Kinnan. “Your kind of intellectuals are the first to scream when it’s safe— and the first to shut their traps at the first sign of danger. They spend years spitting at the man who feeds them— and they lick the hand of the man who slaps their drooling faces. Didn’t they deliver country of Europe, one after another, to committees of goons, just like this one here? Didn’t they scream their heads off to shut every burglar alarm and to break every padlock open for the goons? Have you heard a peep out of them since? Didn’t they scream that they were the friends of labor? Do you hear them raising their voices about the chain gangs, the slave camps, the fourteen-hour workday and the morality from scurvy in the People’s States of Europe? No, but you do hear them telling the whip-beaten retches that starvation is prosperity, that slavery is freedom, that torture chambers are brother-love and that if the wretches don’t understand it, then it’s their own fault that they suffer, and it’s the mangled corpses in the jail cellars who’re to blame for all their troubles, not the benevolent leaders! Intellectuals? You might have to worry about any other breed of men, but not about the modern intellectuals: they’ll swallow anything. I don’t feel so safe about the lousiest wharf rat in the longshoremen’s union: he’s liable to remember suddenly that he is a man—and then I won’t be able to keep him in line. But the intellectuals? That’s the one thing they’ve forgotten long ago. I guess it’s the one thing that all their education was aimed to make them forget. Do anything you please to the intellectuals. They’ll take it.”
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P564, Hank's recognition of his guilt

He thought: Guilty?— guiltier than I had known, far guiltier than I had thought, that day— guilty of the evil of damning as guilt that which was my best. I damned the fact that my mind and body were a unit, and that my body responded to the values of my mind. I damned the fact that joy is the core of existence, the motive power of every living being, that it is the need of one’s body as it is the goal of one’s spirit, that my body was not a weight of inanimate muscles, but an instrument able to give me an experience of superlative joy to unite my flesh and m spirit. That capacity, which I damned as shameful, had left me indifferent to sluts, but gave me my one desire in answer to a woman’s greatness. That desire, which I damned as obscene, did not come from the sight of her body, but from the knowledge that the lovely form I saw, did express the spirit I was seeing— it was not her body that I wanted, but her person— it was not the girl in grey that I had to possess, but the woman who ran the railroad.
But I damned my body’s capacity to express what I felt, I damned, as an affront to her, the highest tribute I could give her— just as they damn my ability to translate the work of my mind into Rearden Metal, just as they damn me for the power to transform matter to serve my needs. I accepted their code and believed, as they taught me, that the values of one’s spirit must remain as an important longing, unexpressed in action, untranslated into related, while the life of one’s body must be lived in misery, as a senseless, degrading performance, and those who attempt to enjoy it must be branded as inferior animals.
I broke their code, but fell into the trap they intended, the trap of a code devised to be broken. I took no pride in my rebellion, I took it as guilt, I did not damn them, I damned myself. I did not damn their code, I damned existence—and I hid my happiness as a shameful secret. I should have lived it openly, as of our right—or made her my wife, as in truth she was. But I branded my happiness as evil and made her bear it as a disgrace. What they want to do to her now, I did it first. I made it possible.
I did it— in the name of pity for the most contemptible woman I know. That, too, was their code, and I accepted it. I believed that one person owes a duty to another with no payment for it in return. I believed it was my duty to love a woman who gave me nothing, who betrayed everything I lived for, who demanded her happiness at the price of mine, I believed that love is some static gift, which, once granted, need no longer be deserved— just as they believe that wealth is a static possession which can be seized and held without further effort. I believed that love is a gratuity, not a reward to be earned— just as they believe it is their right to demand an unearned wealth. And just as they believe that their need is a claim on my energy, so I believed that her unhappiness was a claim on my life. For the sake of pity, not justice, I endured ten years of self-torture. I placed pity above my own conscience, and this is the core of my guilt. My crime was committed when I said to her, “By every standard of mine, to maintain our marriage will be a vicious fraud. But my standards are not yours. I do not understand yours, I never have, but I will accept them.”
Here they are, lying on my desk, those standards I accepted without understanding, here is the manner of her love for me, that love which I never believed, but tried to spare. Here is the final product of the unearned. I thought that it was proper to commit injustice, so long as I would be the only one to suffer. But nothing can justify injustice. And this is the punishment for accepting as proper that hideous evil which is self-immolation. I thought that I would be the only victim. Instead, I’ve sacrificed the noblest woman to the vilest. When one acts on pity against justice, it is the good whom one punishes for the sake of the evil; when one saves the guilty from suffering, it is the innocent whom one forces to suffer. There is no escape from justice, nothing can be unearned and unpaid for in the universe, neither in matter nor in spirit— and if the guilty do not pay, then the innocent have to pay it.
It was not the cheap little looters of wealth who have beaten me— it was I. They did not disarm me— I threw away my weapon. This is a battle that cannot be fought except with clean hands— because this enemy’s sole power is the sores of one’s conscience— and I accepted a code that made me regard the strength of my hands as a sin and a stain.
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p576, Ragnar Danneskjold, on the evil of Robin Hood.

“I do not approve it, Mr. Rearden. But I’ve chosen a special mission of my own. I’m after a man whom I want to destroy. He died many centuries ago, but until the last trace of him is wiped out of men’s minds, we will not have a decent world to live in.”
“What man?”
“Robin Hood.”
Rearden looked at him blankly, not understanding.
“He was the man who robbed the rich and gave to the poor. Well, I’m the man who robs the poor and gives to the rich— or, to be exact, the man who robs the thieving poor and gives back to the productive rich.”
“What in blazes do you mean?”
“If you remember the stories you’ve read about me in the newspapers, before they stopped printing them, you know that I have never robbed a private ship and never taken any private property. Nor have I ever robbed a military vessel— because the purpose of a military fleet is to protect from violence the citizens who paid for it, which is the proper function of a government. But I have seized every loot-carrier that came within range of my guns, every government relief ship, subsidy ship, loan ship, gift ship, every vessel with a cargo of goods taken by force from some men for the unpaid, unearned benefit of others. I seized the boats that sailed under the flag of the idea which I am fighting: the idea that need is a sacred idol requiring human sacrifices— that the need of some men is the knife of a guillotine hanging over others— that all of us must live with our work, our hopes, our plans, our efforts at the mercy of the moment when that knife will descend upon us— and that the extent of our ability is the extent of our danger, so that success will bring our heads down on the block, while failure will give us the right to pull the cord. This is the horror which Robin Hood immortalized as an ideal of righteousness. It is said that he fought against the looting rulers and returned the loot to those who had been robbed, but that is not the meaning of the legend which has survived. He is remembered, not as a champion of property, but as champion of need, not as a defender of the robbed, but as a provider of the poor. He is held to be the first man who assumed a halo of virtue by practicing charity with wealth which he did not own, by giving away goods which he had not produced, by making others pay for the luxury of his pity. He is the man who became the symbol of the idea that need, not achievement, is the source of rights, that we don’t have to produce, only to want, that the earned does not belong to us, but the unearned does. He became a justification for every mediocrity who, unable to make his own living, has demanded the power to dispose of the property of his betters, by proclaiming his willingness to devote his life to his inferiors at the price of robbing his superiors. It is the foulest of creatures— the double-parasite who lives on the sores of the poor and the blood of the rich— whom men have come to regard as a moral ideal. And this has brought us to a world where the more a man produces, the closer he comes to the loss of all his rights, until if his ability is great enough, he becomes a rightless creature delivered as prey to any claimant—while in order to be placed above rights, above principles, above morality, placed where anything is permitted to him, even plunder and murder, all a man has to do is to be in need. Do you wonder why the world is collapsing around us? That is what I am fighting, Mr. Rearden. Until men learn that of all human symbols, Robin Hood is the most immoral and most contemptible, there will be no justice on earth and no way for mankind to survive. ”

The rest of that exchange, and the many, many others. Prepare yourselves, 'cause it's epic.

I don't think it's too soon to say that this could be, possibly, be my favorite book of all time.

Quarks and Quitters in New Jersey Winters

2008-02-18T09:26:00.000-08:00

An update! Surprised y'all didn't I?!?

This might be a little short and probably won't fulfill any of the other promises I made in my previous entries. Just as warning.

1. Reading schedule. I finished A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius yesterday morning. I was quite proud of myself; this has been a project of mine for the past four years. I don't know why it feels so long-- it could be that I never liked any of the characters. So, since I never had anything to look forward to, except their deaths, perhaps the book just dragged for me. Either way, I do think the book deserves every accolade it's ever gotten. Eggers takes a very creative stance with the novel in practically every way imaginable-- the table of contents, the preface, the reviews, etc. All of it's practically a joke. It's the first book I've ever seen written this way. Even the formatting of the book-- it goes from regular prose to switching scenes every paragraph, sometimes every other sentence. He has diagrams. Sometimes the book is in interview format. A NY Times Reviewer called he book "manic depressive"; I think that might be the best way to describe it.

So, I definitely recommend it to everyone. It's not my favorite, but for anyone with an interest in how much license you can take with a novel, this is definitely a great example.

Now I'm reading Atlas Shrugged, another four year project.[I have so many of these because senior year of high school, I raided my school's library/junk pile, took the books home, and read some but never finished many of them] Now, with a book that has claim to being one of the most influential books of all time after the Bible.[I think this referred to Americans only; I should come back in and cite this] Anyway, the book is from Ayn Rand, Russian immigrant, staunch anti-Communist, objectivist, etc. Currently I'm on page 340-- to give you an image of my edition, it is hardcover, small font, and over 1000 pages. As Summer can attest, I can normally inhale books with no problem. But Atlas Shrugged is definitely beyond my capabilities. Of course it's also a book that's hard to read at the same pace that I can read, say, The Da Vinci Code or Harry Potter-- there's a lot going on, all the time, and I feel like there are some subtleties to pay attention to. Reading this really makes me want to see Feminist critiques of Ayn Rand's handling of female characters. I'm sure people must have had a field-day...even I feel like I'm rattling off a thousand questions everytime she has Dagny[the protagonist, a female] do something.

Oh, there's a great excerpt that I wanted to point out. The quote is from Lillian Rearden, wife of Hank Rearden, while she's having a row with him:

"It's really very simple. If you tell a beautiful woman that she is beautiful, what have you given her? It's no more than a fact and it has cost you nothing. But if you tell an ugly woman that she is beautiful, you offer her the great homage of corrupting the concept of beauty. To love a woman for her virtues is meaningless. She's earned it, it's a payment, not a gift. But to love her for her vices is a real gift, unearned and undeserved. To love her for her vices is to defile all virtue for her sake-- and that is a real tribute of love, beause you sacrifice your conscience, your reason, your integrity and your invaluable self-esteem."

The entire exchange is very beautiful, but this monologue in particular really caught my eye. Rand has this way of alternating between very dry and mechanical language-- afterall, the book is about the train industry. But she has a very interesting way of depicting romance-- also very dry most of the time, tones of BDSM, but always beautiful written. This book will definitely be a favorite, if I ever finish it.

I made a goal in high school to read every Ayn Rand book-- so far, I've read Anthem, which was maybe 200 pages. Very good book. Anyway, I intend on sticking with this goal, but I hear The Fountainhead is just as long as Atlas Shrugged...great, haha.

2. If one more person tells me how much darker I've gotten...

Okay, so, apparently China had this evil skin-ruining effect on me. As soon as I got back to America, my mom told me how much darker I'd gotten. Okay, whatever-- my mother is always overcritical.[China also gave me slight acne-- this, I recognize] Anyway, then my aunt said the same thing. Then, my old bestfriend's sister told me the SAME thing yesterday. She then proceeded to tell me where I could find sunblock at Walgreen's.

At first I blew it off; my mom and aunt are pretty light-skinned, so I thought it was probably their high-yellow agendas coming into play, keeping the family light. But Tiana is fairly dark, or was apparently darker than me[not true anymore], and it really caught me by surprise that it was one of the first things she said after she saw me.

It has me feeling self-conscious, looking through my photos for comparison. Not as if there's anything I can do about it-- I'm not going to get skin lightening creme, so my skin'll either turn back or it'll stay. Either way, I've never really encountered stuff like this-- this complexion agenda! I already joked with my grandfather about moving away from these lightskinned folk and heading back to South Carolina with the rest of the darkies in our family, =P.

Alright, that's it. Maybe next entry I'll talk about my Tufts visit[s]! Later.

Musical Chiropractor.

2008-02-07T10:15:00.000-08:00

Alright, I know I should be done with updating, but...as part of my penance[speaking of penance, Ash Wednesday was yesterday! What ever shall I give up for Lent?] I feel like posting the lyrics of two songs that I've been identifying with for the past two months.

This is a very Shawn-thing to do, to post lyrics, but I feel like stealing his gimmick.

Eight Easy Steps, Alanis Morissette[Because no one told me she was a goddess...]

How to stay paralyzed by fear of abandonment
How to defer to men in solveable predicaments
How to control someone to be a carbon copy of you
How to have that not work and have them run away from you

How to keep people at arms length and never get too close
How to mistrust the ones who supposedly love the most
How to pretend you're fine and don't need help from anyone
How to feel worthless unless you're serving or helping someone

[Chorus:]
I'll teach you all this in 8 easy steps
A course of a lifetime you'll never forget
I'll show you how to in 8 easy steps
I'll show you how leaderships looks when tought by the best

How to hate women when you're supposed to be a feminist
How to play all pious when you're really a hypocrite
How to hate god when you're a player and a spiritualist
How to sabotage your fantasies by fears of success

[Chorus]

I've been doing research for years
I've been practicing my ass off
I've been training my whole life for this moment I swear to you
Culminating just to be this well-versed leader before you

[Chorus]

How to lie to yourself and thereby to everyone else
How to keep smiling when you're thinking of killing yourself
How to numb a la holic to avoid going within
How to stay stuck in blue by blaming them for everything

[Chorus]

And then there's Nancy Boy, from Placebo:

Alcoholic kind of mood
lose my clothes, lose my lube
cruising for a piece of fun
looking out for number one
different partner every night
so narcotic outta sight
what a gas, what a beautiful ass.

And it all breaks down at the role reversal,
got the muse in my head she's universal,
spinnin' me round she's coming over me.
And it all breaks down at the first rehearsal,
got the muse in my head she's universal,
spinnin' me round she's coming over me.

Kind of buzz that lasts for days
had some help from insect ways
comes across all shy and coy
just another nancy boy.
Woman man or modern monkey
just another happy junkie
fifty pounds, press my button
going down.

And it all breaks down at the role reversal
got the muse in my head she's universal,
spinnin' me round she's coming over me.
And it all breaks down at the first rehearsal,
got the muse in my head she's universal,
spinnin' me round she's coming over me.

Does his makeup in his room
douse himself with cheap perfume
eyeholes in a paper bag
greatest lay I ever had
kind of guy who mates for life
gotta help him find a wife
we're a couple, when our bodies double.

And it all breaks down at the role reversal
got the muse in my head she's universal,
spinnin' me round she's coming over me.
And it all breaks down at the first rehearsal,
got the muse in my head she's universal,
spinnin' me round she's coming over me.

----

I recommend listening to both of these songs if you're an overdramatic teenager/young adult with a bad habit or five. I'd also recommend the Dresden Dolls, if you're into cabaret-ish stuff.

On a less dysfunctional note, I am SO HAPPY to know what's out in R&B/Pop/Hip Hop. I've been playing "Hey Baby", from Omarion and Bow Wow and "Kiss Kiss"[which I guess is older], from Chris Brown featuring T.Pain like non-stop.

Also, the faster Soulja Boi fades back into obscurity, the better.

End.

"Hey, Big Mambo!"

2008-02-07T08:52:00.000-08:00

Believe it or not, I've had this title planned since November.

When my classmates and I went to Beijing and were visiting Gugong[the Forbidden City], there were some Tazmanian tourists there. And as it always happens when Black people meet in China, I acknowledged them, they acknowledged me, etc. But then, one of the guys said, "Hey, Big Mambo!" followed by some other stuff that I did not understand. After he realized that I didn't understand, he asked where I was from; I asked him the same. He said he thought I was Tazmanian. I mean, it was just a really great moment for me; I feel like in America, everyone just assumes I'm African American, and rightly so. Maybe Jamaican when I've got more hair going. Anyway, Africans never mistake me for being African. I liked it, reminded me that we're a diaspora of the same people. At least skin color wise.

Black Power.

Anyway, hiiii. I owe all of you my deepest apologies, especially Steven, since I promised him I would update a while ago. In all honesty, the biggest culprit in my long hiatus was the crappiness of my internet connection; there were at least two times when I would be bored and ready to update. But right when I was halfway through an update, my internet connection would give out and I would lose everything. So I gave up.

There's a lot of catching up to do of course. I'm not ambitious enough to seek to cover everything in one entry-- sorry. But at least the basics.

1. I am back in America.

I fought hard against it, but in the end, I returned to the Land of the Brave. I am back in New Jersey. I've been home for about a week, closer to two-- it's already been pretty eventful. Um. Saw a lot of family, friends. It's been cool, being home.

I miss China severely. I miss being stared at, I miss the pushing and the shoving. But most of all, I miss the cheapness. And I miss speaking Chinese 24/7. Or at least 4/7.

I'll probably cover the last of my Chinese adventures at a later date. My last entry was October 12th, when I was still head over heels ove everything for Pablo, when my American classmates were still there. My classmates left December 10th-ish, and from that point until a week or two ago, I was alone in China, braving the wilds. I also made a sort of photo blog on MSN-- I gave in and made a space on there. So I wasn't completely idle for the past few months. I'll figure out the link later; if you want to see pictures that badly, you can just ask me for my MSN account.[get MSN if you don't have it! It's the future!] Or facebook.

I really did enjoy myself, though. And I discovered that I love Korean people. But that's another entry.

2. New Year's Resolutions

Um. I really, really want to have New Years Resolutions this year, but I got off on the wrong start. I still don't really have a codified list of goals for this year, which is a major problem. Even if I don't reach them, I need some sort of gameplan. For now, the list is:

I. Get fluent in a language.[Chinese is impossible. So that leaves either Spanish or Japanese.] I actually think this is doable, but it means I can no longer be lazy.

II. Read over 200 books. This I know is destined to fail-- I came up with this one when I was drunk. I didn't realize at the time that 200 books means about a book every other day. And considering that it's already February and I haven't even completed one book this year...yeah. I'm a little behind. I may make the goal a 100, maybe even 50. We'll see.

III. Get pretty. But that's my goal every year. My teeth are no longer a mess anymore. I just need to get toned, get facial hair, and work on my sexy poses...

IV. Become a testing king. There are four tests I want to do well on this year-- LSATs[Law School Admission Test], GREs[Blah blah blah...grad school test/SATs part II], HSK[Hanyu Shuiping Kaoshi/Chinese Level Test], and the JLPT[Japanese Language Proficiency Test]. We'll see. I'm actually very worried. Everyone has been getting on my back about what I'm going to do after college.

Etc.

3. Boys?

Of course.

I feel as if there is a VERY thin line between "stay-at-home dork with no social skills" and "complete slut" and I've been straddling it for a while now. Only this past week I feel as if things are getting slightly out of control.

I'll go into more depth later, but for the duration of while I was in China, I was all over Pablo. Thinking about him all the time. I fell very hard-- perhaps the hardest I've ever fallen, save for Jay. The worst part was that I didn't know why I fell so hard-- I guess I'm attracted to guys who're smarter than me, and he at least is better with languages than I am. There was also that I just never saw it coming. He seemed too pretty for me.

And then there was Darville. I had this profile on this gay Asian website[which is also how two other guys at my university in China wound up finding me, but that's another story]. Anyway, so Darville contacted me, he's a nice kid. Seems to really like me-- or at least I think he just wants to find someone not-Chinese.[He's from Grenada] And I recently introduced him to another of my friends online, and now they're like hooking up or something. Great. I don't know how I feel about that.

Last week, it was Alvinn's 18th birthday. Alvinn and I have a special relationship-- I would jump over major hurdles for this kid. If you know me really well, I've probably told you about what a great program NJSEEDS is-- Alvinn and I are both alumni. I may have given the shpiel[sic?] already about it, but it's essentially a program that attempts to help urban youth, typically minorities, gain access to private, typically boarding, high schools. When Alvinn was 12, he started Phase 1 of the program-- at the time, I was 14 or so, and an intern. I helped my friend Nakeefa teach a Technology class that he was in. Anyway, Alvinn was very fast for his age-- he already knew he was gay and everything, whereas I didn't come out until two years later. And he had a crush on me at the time, which I felt was gross. 12 year olds.

BUT. He has been getting steadily more attractive and less 12-year-old-ish since he's turned 16. I still felt kind of peevish-- he was 16, I was 18. Felt like pedophilia. So I have been waiting for this kid to get some age on him-- even 18 is a little young, but I'm only 20 myself. Anyway, I can't even pretend to lie-- I like a lot of people, possibly too many, but Alvinn is very high on list. I'm just trying to wait for him to get older, get some experience. He also has a boyfriend, of whom I'm not sure I approve , but as long as Alvinn likes him, I'm wishing for the best.

Still, for his birthday night, we took him out to a club, Esquelita's, in NY. It was my first time as well. That was a crazy night. Besides being very drunk, there was a runin with the cops, and me seeing WAY too many people that I knew there. Pass. But, I did make out with Alvinn, in all of my drunken-ness. That is NOT how I wanted our first kiss to be.

Anyway, I'm not fiending for this kid at all-- he's more like a masterpiece that's as of yet unfinished. Like, one of those guys that I'll find myself always coming back to, at least mentally.

Okay. So that was last Saturday.

Yesterday, there was Julian. While I may catch flack for this, I am on gay sites and have been since high school. I have no interest in having sex with anyone from these things-- never have, possibly never will. In fact, my main reason is to get compliments, I guess[Low self esteem for the win!]. I've met two guys in the past from these things-- Paul, who was gross, and Matt, who was more gross. Not a good track record.

The problem is that sometimes these things cross into my real life-- for example, a guy from across the street is on one, and after running into him on person, he hit me up, asking if I was the same person. And while I'm hesitant to meet up with anyone from these things, especially after the bad experiences, it's also like...you live across the street. I wouldn't hesitate to talk to you if, say, we met into a different space. Are you that much more dangerous because you're online?

Etc. I have other thoughts on this issue, but I don't care to get into it right now. Point is, I use the stuff mainly for self-validation and to get some laughs. Friends would be great, but too many people annoy me. But then there are those that don't-- Julian for example, and Sean.[see below] I guess we can't be friends if we never meet, right? I met Julian yesterday.

We made out. It got a little further, and then I went home before anything happened. He actually lives like a few blocks from me. We just had a day walking around, running errands. He treated me to dinner. Then we went to his place and he gave me a drink-- which I suspected was spiked. Luckily, it wasn't. He's kind of cute, but he also is like 29? And looks kind of old. And honestly, I don't really think I need jumpoffs, though he is a great kisser.

IMMEDIATELY after I left, apparently there was this other guy, Sean, whom I gave my number like a month ago.[Which is weird, 'cause I give no one my number.] He's a cool guy, and I vaguely remember talking to him. We're gonna hang out on Friday in Newark, I guess. I don't think we're compatible, thank goodness-- he's on some pro-masculine shit, asking me if I want to be wifey/if I cook or something like that. Homo please, must be joking, haha. But otherwise, he's kind of funny-- as long as I keep myself out of the "possible jumpoff" zone, I think we should be fine.

So, I mean. I feel like in ONE WEEK, I've been with more guys than I have in like an entire year[not even counting that cute Latino boy at the poetry slam a while ago...mm. But I didn't holla at him, though I should have]. And I know, be cautious, etc. I'm definitely always thinking of escape routes. And am considering taking myself off of gay sites altogether-- even though I'm always listed as looking for friends, it never seems to work that way. Or at least all 3 have wound up escalating. I guess for most people this is normal, but I feel like college hookups are...different. I don't know.
---

Of course the boy section was the biggest one. It's just a very odd feeling for me-- I feel like I'm a good person, kind of dorky, not really into crazy stuff. I drink a lot and like Asian languages. A mediocre dancer who likes to read, and has a coffee allergy, haha. And suddenly I feel like it'd be SO easy to just have a list of boys ready for the moment.

Or maybe I just need to have a "boys I like" list-- pretty much Shawn, Pablo, Alvinn, Darville. Anyone else is just extra.

Anyway, I'll try to make a more interesting entry next time-- less focused on drivel, etc.

Also? VOTE OBAMA 08.

;)

Her eyes told me she was an intuitionist, and I couldn't tell her that was so 19th century.

2007-10-12T21:01:00.000-07:00

So, Shakira has a song, "Las de La Intuicion"[English: Pure Intuition], and it's great. I've listened to it like eighty times in the past two-three days.

I'm kind of pressed for time, I'll be getting lunch in like 10 minutes or so. But I had some things on my mind that I wanted to get down into an entry.

1. I am extremely tired of English.

Who am I kidding: i love English. It's the best language ever, after Japanese. [And probably Arabic] But I feel as if I fall back on it so much-- when I'm learning Chinese-- I use English translations to understand grammatical concepts. Ditto for when I'm learning Japanese and Spanish. So, I was wondering: is there a way that I can get rid of English?

I feel like, even in China, I use it so often: I use it to communicate with my American classmates here, when I browse online, I read English articles, my blog is in English, lately I've been listening to more music in English.

Now, I'd guess it's impossible to get rid of all of the English in my life. But, for the little bit that I can change, I'm going to work on.

My blog will stay in English, haha. But I think I may actually take a serious language pledge this time-- no conversations with my classmates in English unless it's necessary.[And, there are times, ie. during our mandatory culture classes, conducted in English] No more music in English.[Not so hard.] And as little English internet use as possible.

This also has to do with my feelings about Spanish-- like, I could be so close to being fluent, but for my laziness alone, I'm not. Compared to Chinese, Spanish is like a breeze, like learning a different dialect of English, haha. I'm reading El Alquimista/The Alchemist right now, and while I've forgotten a lot of stuff, it's getting very easy to recall words I've forgotten. And, in general, the gist of what's being said comes very easily. So, I think I just need to add a bit more work, and I could definitely get good with Spanish. Japanese is in a similar position, but I use it more often, so I'm a better Japanese speaker...probably. Which is funny.

That's one thing that bothers me, my Spanish speaking ability. My reading and hearing are both far above my speaking. So, another target.

What else. Oh, there's a whole bunch of Pablo stuff, that thankfully reached some sort of resolution, but that's probably another update. I also did take the pictures I said I would, but again, next update.

Later.

"I was not sorry when my brother died."

2007-10-10T08:36:00.000-07:00

And that, my friends, is the first line of a really great book called Nervous Conditions.

It's pretty amusing that I'm STILL READING The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, even though I finished Oracle Bones, which is probably around the same length, in about three to four days. I started Nervous Conditions, which is around half the size, on Saturday, finished it the next day. I've been ready The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle for at least two months.

It's an amazing book, so it's not because Oracle Bones is a better/easier read. TWUBC shits all over Oracle Bones. As much as I hate to admit it, it must be because despite the fact that I can find eBooks for...well, free, they are still not easy for me to read, compared to their physical copies. Bummer. [To be fair, I also rarely have time to give TWUBC the dedication I gave to the other two. My laptop rarely leaves my room, so I only read TWUBC when I'm here, which isn't too often. I can take regular books anywhere, and usually do-- dinner, class, wherever.]

But as I was saying, Nervous Conditions is an amazing book. I would like to say it reminds me of Jamaica Kincaid's "The Autobiography of my Mother" but the comparison might not actually be very fitting aferall. The only similarity that I can think of is that they're both black female protagonists with semi-similar personalities...maybe. But the settings of each novel and the voices used by each author are completely different. If I remember correctly, The Autobiography of my Mother takes place in the Caribbean, whereas Nervous Conditions happens in Rhodesia, or colonial Zimbabwe, in the 1960s. Further, while I got the distinct impression that Kincaid was a poet first and a novelist second, Tsitsi Dangarembga, the author of Nervous Conditions, doesn't give me that impression. In fact, she kind of reminds me of a Black female Nathaniel Hawthorne, if only in that her sentences are pretty long.[In my book, an automatic plus-- Hawthorne-iness is as close to godliness as most can get ] But both protagonists are kind of fierce, or at least Tambu, Nervous Conditions' protagonist, is. If the first sentence didn't demonstrate that she's a sort of tough cookie.

The book is pretty heavily feminist, I'd say-- perhaps only second in focus to race in the novel. The author also says so in an interview in my edition of the book, I think. There are a lot of bad men in this novel, from Tambu's father on up-- bad women too. But Tambu is a very strong character, and though I think I remember being bothered by her at times, I really was rooting for her the whole way through. She has to go through a lot of mess.

This is seriously one of the best books I've read in a while. I feel like I read a lot of crazy books most of the time, or at least books that aren't very connected to my life or anything that I can relate to-- stuff from Victorian England, Japanese Post-Modernism, what have you. But, as a young black person I guess, I really related to this book. And even if you're not young or black[if you're not a person...we'll probably have issues], there's still a lot to gain and a lot of struggle to relate to. And it's extremely well-written. Probably one of my favorite books of all time.

I'll try to write an actual review at some point-- it deserves one. Unfortunately, this isn't my book-- I borrowed it from a friend,. So I should probably write it soon, before I forget most of the details[too late?] or before someone else wants to borrow it.

Speaking of Victorian England, I've really got an urging to reread some Proust. That's another writer I like-- he's French. He's amazing. If you like old, stuffy writing, then you will probably love Proust, if you don't already. He wrote Swann's Way/A Rememberance of Things Past/Whatever's the Current translation for his trilogy.

So, that's what I've got to say about books.

Otherwise, things were fine-- my week always sucks on Monday[class from 8-7:30...that's right], sucks less on Tuesday[Class from 1-7:30], and starts getting great from Wednesday onwards. And it's Wednesday night so...holla. Went to class, hung with the classmates/friends, typical stuff.

Also, this typhoon business is done now. And somehow, when I woke up this morning, all of the water was completely gone-- I have no idea where it went, but I can only say that Chinese sewage systems must put American sewage systems to shame. Back in Jersey City, were we to get as much rain as we just did over here, we'd have water in the streets for years. I like to think there are some elves trapped away at this school and they all whisked the water away in their fancy boots.

Otherwise I, predictably, decided I wanted to censure my previous entries about Pablo. I'm not sure if I'll go in and edit. Maybe, probably not-- they were my honest thoughts for the most part, afterall. But the reasoning for this censuring is that I think I've regained some of my confidence and sanity. I don't know what it is about boys that makes me turn into a neurotic ass-- I was reminding myself of all of my female friends, combined into some homotional monster, haha. "Why is he texting me? What does he want from me? Should I say that-- what if I come off too obsessive? Why didn't he text me back-- it's been three hours." My goodness. It's such an odd position to be in.

So, to fix the situation, I decided to watch Noah's Arc and Queer as Folk. QAF really did the trick-- as much as Brian grosses me out, he is such a pimp. Such a true pimp.

Anyway my head is back on straight, I think-- one boy is rarely worth that much stress. In fact, I'm pretty sure I just haven't been using my time well enough, which is why I always seem to have the time to think about him. So, I decided I need more stuff to do.

I kinda forgot about my goal to step my reading into overdrive, so that will be back on. Also, one of my friends was thinking of running a marathon, and I think that's a great idea. So I think I decided I was gonna start training, Steven-style.[Which really means running on the track with incremental increases.] Plus, I really need to focus more on Chinese-- I speak with people and do my homework, but I don't think I'm doing the most I can to improve. So there's that.

I also decided I should probably get other prospects/hoes so that I'm not thinking about Pablo so often. I will keep you updated.

That's about it, for now. I'm pretty tied as well and I want to go to the gym in the morning tomorrow, so I will be heading off to bed now.

Deuces.

I guess that's just the way the cookie crumbles.

2007-10-07T02:09:00.000-07:00

I'd like to say I've been on a Lily Allen kick, but it's really that I've been watching too much Noah's Arc[again] and one of her songs was in it.

Hi y'all. I'm a mess.

There's a lot that's happened and I feel pretty bad for not even trying to keep regular updates. I'm gonna try to get everything together starting now.

I'd normally try to recap EVERY MAJOR THING that has happened since my arrival into the big Chi-Na, but I think I've decided that it'd be easier for me to do things little by little as my memory returns.

So, some major points.

1. I am twenty.

Today, October 7th, marks the day that my mother popped my fatass head out of her birth canal and brought me, Steven, into this world. It's pretty exciting. Most people who know me well have probably heard me say some pretty fearful statements about reaching thirty, but I think I'm actually getting over it. Don't fear death; embrace it.[Not that thirty is death or anything...it just feels like it.]

My mom should be calling me tonight. Now I can finally open the gift my grandmother gave me in AUGUST.[Haha, I'm proud of myself for not opening it until now.]

So, what did I do for my birthday? I went to the local gay club[which is fairly whack, btw], of course. And I met some Argentinian boy named Pablo, 24, who happens to be studying at my university as well and...blah blah blah.

To be frank, I'm not entirely sure how I feel about the whole matter. I decided recently that as noble as I think celibacy is, I'm also a 19 20 year old man. I want to be reckless. Maybe I'll reconsider celibacy later on, but as for now, forget it.

But even so, I just don't know where this is supposed to go. I'm gonna try to just stay with the moment, I guess.

Anyway. The greatest part of the night was making out with Pablo on the dance floor. I felt like it was Queer as Folk or some shit: dancing and getting all close on the floor, having everyone look at us.[Minus a subsequent gay-bashing/bat to the head in the parking lot, of course] I really could have had the night end right there; it made my night. He's very beautiful; I'll try to snag a picture if we meet up again. The whole situation was fairly bizarre: he was the first person who talked to me when I walked in. I thought it was just the instant-foreigner connection, if only because he's' prettier than me. And so I thought we'd just chill, drink beers together. And suddenly we're getting all close. Oh well.

It's just funny, 'cause earlier this week I was complaining about how I missed black/hispanic guys.

We also met some lesbians, they were cool. I love lesbians. They were a little old and dry, though.

2. Now that boy mess is out of the way...

I am an environmental threat.

That's right. A few days ago, Friday I believe, I ate a cicada. That's right. I have gone crazy.

I'll try to put pictures in the photoblog that will be started shortly.

It actually wasn't that bad; it was like beef jerky. With legs. Who am I kidding: that mess was gross to the max. I was peer pressured into it by my classmates.

Next, I killed a chicken. Took a fairly dull knife, and sawed its head right off.

The context is that we were enjoying the national holiday, which has been going on since October 1st to today, October 7th. We were near Lishui, a city further south in Zhejiang Province, and visitng the Shir people's village. The Shir people are a minority in China.

So, while we were in the village, we had to participate in a marriage; my classmates and I elected who would be what. And I was elected to be the bride's brother. Or uncle. I'm not sure myself, actually. Whoever I was , I had to kill the chicken.

And the rest is history. It's a pretty odd feeling, though, bearing the moral culpability in my own hands. It's certainly easier just to go to McDonald's and order some Chicken McNuggets. People kept calling me a killer/murderer.[Aren't we all?]

3. I'm tired.

I'm pretty proud of myself for doing this much. Of course, I can still write about random Chinese kids people thinking it's okay to touch my hair and rub my skin ...or Korean people asking me if I play basketball. Or people telling me I resemble Kobe Bryant[haha, child please, let's forget the two foot difference]/assuming I'm African/whatever. But I can do those later.

What was the final push to get me updating was Steven Emmanuel/Queer Kid of Color, I think; I was reading Clik, specifically his interview of Jonathan Perry, and I was reminded of how much I love people. black people. black gay people. and everyone else. haha. And so, I just had to get my head out of my ass and get my shit together.

Deuces.

She looked at me and told me my dramatics needed more work.

2007-08-26T08:55:00.000-07:00

Hey.

Apologies are in order-- I haven't updated in too long. I'm going to keep this brief: I'm in China, have been here for about two weeks now, I think. Certainly an interesting experience.

It's 12 AM right now over here, exactly twelve hours ahead of the Eastern time zone back in the US.

I'm planning on starting a photoblog at some point soon and keep this at least somewhat updated-- there's stuff to say, y'know. I'm actually about to head to sleep but I was feeling guilty all of a sudden for not updating.

I will do more later, promise.

<3s

Placebo always told me being worse than Special K was a good thing.

2007-07-26T02:38:00.000-07:00

One day, I'm really going to have to make an incredibly long entry explaining my self-worth being tied up with certain drug-addicts/alcoholics.

I think I just have happened to know some people with bad habits and I've admired them for various reasons[courage, creativity, what have you.] My Beatnik phase comes to mind.[Oh, Kerouac, you'll always have a place in my bleeding heart.]

It may be my worst habit-- admiring the destructive. Hopefully I'm leaving those and my teenage years behind.

Maybe I'll discuss this in more detail at another time, if I'm up for the rant.

Yo.

It's 5:44 A.M. in Jersey and I am feeling absolutely CRAZY, honest-and-courageous crazy. It's almost like my [over]confidence has come back from the dead.

I think my money situation has something to do with it. I've been unemployed for the first Summer of my life and my ego has been dragged through some mud.

It's not like I've ever known true wealth, but I HATE not having spending money-- not even having the money to buy a book or go to the movies. Matters are only made worse when people want to go places all the damn time-- I know, it's Summer, let's be young and get drunk.[Saddest joke ever: an alcoholic drink hasn't passed my lips in over a month, maybe even two. Probably two.]

So, bottom line, not having money MAKES ME SAD. Watch, one day I'm gonna plot a cubic function to explain my crazy temperments-- stay tuned. Money is a pretty important variable in the Steven Function.

So, I ran into some-- school refund, omgyay. I love it when being poor actually works to my advantage. It's not a lot, but I have enough to pay off all of my credit card bills[of which my mom actually has to pay some, since some of them weren't actually my charges], I'll have a sum to take with me to China.[!!!!!!, SO SOON!] Plus, we get a stipend, and I will be using my black ingenuity to get a job.[Lolz, despite the shade of my skin, I can actually turn off the ebonics and speak proper English, Mr. Wang. Please entrust your English grammar and such'a thangs to me.]

Oh, and I've still gotta turn in the rebate for my hard drive.

There's so much to say, so much to say, so little time-- my eyes are getting droopy, finally, so. I guess I'll do a parte deux tomorrow-- but I think I'm supposed to have plans. Hm.

Harry Potter. Braces, coming off August 1st. Started working out again.[Lollerskates.] AND I WANNA PLAY BASKETBALL.

The basketball bit deserves a whole post by itself. Considering I have not played basketball since like....high school gym class, and I hated every minute of when we had to play.[Wow, so obviously homo.]

I really regret not doing a sport. I wanted to do track this year...oops.[Plus, my diet is so undisciplined. Cheeseburgers + pizzas all day, e'ryday.]

Alright, I seriously am dozing at the keyboard.

Later, taters.

Boulders on my black body.

2007-06-23T08:44:00.000-07:00

I just received an email about a discriminatory act towards homosexuals that happened in Newark, NJ. I actually wasn't very moved by this, but...

The eMail did have nice buttons about taking action and stuff, and I can at least recognize what's wrong[even if it doesn't actually get me fired up].

The Article:

UNACCEPTABLE! Newark school district removes same-sex photo from high school yearbook

As reported in today's Star-Ledger, Newark school officials, just before distributing yearbooks to students at East Side High School, took magic markers to cover up a yearbook photo of an 18-year-old graduating senior kissing his boyfriend. The school district says the photo was "illicit" -- but that's homophobic nonsense! First, the photo is of two guys kissing and nothing more. Secondly, the school district DID NOT TOUCH THE PHOTOS OF STRAIGHT STUDENTS KISSING THEIR OPPOSITE-SEX BOYFRIENDS AND GIRLFRIENDS.

This is outrageous! Write to Newark schools superintendent Marion Bolden asking her to redistribute the yearbooks without the photo covered up -- and demand that she publicly apologize to the student, his boyfriend and the LGBTI community. The school district's action shows incredible insensitivity and intolerance. We must reverse it.

----

Participate if you want-- all it requires is a few minutes. Worst thing that might happen is you being put on an eMail list.

[Wow, I think I felt my halo tingle.]

The television is on in his bedroom eyes.

2007-06-19T15:11:00.000-07:00

Okay, I'm probably going to seem like the dorkiest, most pathetic person ever...but...

Could my life be turning into NOAH'S ARC?

Hahahahahaha.

I'm partially kidding.

Yesterday, Summer and I went to the LGBT center in NY to practice Spanish. It was really cool-- I've never been there before and I got to skip the $5 fee since I came an hour and a half late. And it was really small and cozy-- met some new people! Jennifer, the straight ally, Jun and Winston, the not so straight allies, and some other cat who went to Brandeis whose name I don't remember.

Anyway,Summer and I are apparently going to Winston's church this Sunday before Pride-- he just called today to give me some directions that I'll probably forget. Directions and I do not mix. Anyway, when I was on the phone with him, I thought: he fits Chance's role perfectly! Mature, stable, intelligent, partnered. This is like the episode where Chance takes everyone to church. Bam.

Summercan be Ricky, since she flirts with everyone.[Including Latinas on trains with their boyfriends inches away from us, haha, priceless. "Ella habla espanol tambien! Oh nooo"(after trying to talk about said Latina in Spanish in front of her)]

Jun isn't effeminate enough to play Alex...neither is Nakeefa, haha. But she is whacky enough. We'll see.

I just got really excited, haha. But I think I'm just too obsessed with that show.

Anyway, besides not having any sort of career prospects or anything, things are TOTALLY GR8. I'm kind of giving up on my unsupervised Chinese adventures anyway, so whatever.

<3s.

Fort Dix and Candlesticks.

2007-06-17T18:50:00.000-07:00

I couldn't help feeling guilty about not having any new words lately. If there's anything that's important, it's a strong vocabulary.

So, I'm going to make up for everything with two new words.

descry - to see or catch sight of, often from a distance, as in: When I descry the island, I'll shout, "Land Ho!"

gainsay - challenge: take exception to; "She challenged his claims"

Ah, relief.

Otherwise, I don't actually have much to say-- I'm just trying to put out more entries more often. I went "driving" today with my grandparents, which really means I practiced parking. I was a lot better today with the parallel parking thing-- I'd like to say it's because I get it more, but I really don't think it is. Like, I'm not really noticing anything specific about how to park accurately. My grandparents have just given me instructions so often that I can hear my grandfather's voice in my head when I'm nearing a certain point, so I just start turning the wheel.

Not sure if that's gonna hurt me in the long run, haha. Definitely need to read through the driver's manual again.

Otherwise, today was a pretty good father's day. Went with my mom last night to get my grandfather some shirts, rode bikes with my aunt for a little while, took a trip down memory lane with my grandparents. "Man, y'all kids have it easy...back when we were young, we used to ride the mules and milk the cows and all that...and y'all don't know what real plums taste like, down in the South they just come so sweet..." and so on. It's pretty funny.

But I guess I was wondering-- my mom and my aunt were getting on me for not getting my mother anything for Father's day. Since my mother's done the parenting thing by herself, they were saying that she's both my mother and my father. I find that kinda bogus-- she's a super-mother, not my father. Anyway, I was just wondering what other people's takes might be-- not necessarily in regards to father's day, but your opinion on a mother's ability to serve as a father, or whatever.

I'm kinda tired, so I may hit the hay. I'll catch y'all on the flip side.

[And I still haven't seen Fantastic Four! I've even seen that Ocean's 13 mess. WHY must I see all of these sequels without having seen the originals? Urgh splat.]

Crouched on a couch and ready for more.

2007-06-15T14:51:00.000-07:00

It's seriously as if some vague, malevolent being does NOT want me to study abroad. Not to be overdramatic, but I am thinking that even IF I get everything sorted out, right before I am boarding my plane to Chicago/Michigan/wherever the layover is from which I am going to China, I will be hit by a bus.

I'm thinking of looking for my old rabbit's foot.

It started with my passport. But I needed to order my birth certificate. Then I had to go to Trenton and apply in person for my birth certificate. Then I needed to get someone to give me an address. Then they MISSPELL my middle name on my passport, which I can't correct because deadlines are coming.

And now, apparently some blockhead from my building has stolen my Chinese Visa forms. What good someone thinks might come from having a slip of paper in Chinese addressed to me, I don't know. ~~Oh, maybe it might be that my social security number is on it?~~

Like, I'm just in shock kind of. I found out yesterday-- this person working at the Study Abroad office was like, "send this in by the 18th, blah blah", and I'm like..."Me no have." "They required signatures right, to get them?""...Oops."

And so, DHL just left them in the hallway.

I'm really seeing problems with my passport-- the misspelling is probably going to be a big deal when I get over there. Actually, I'm pretty sure things are just gonna go wrong-- and it's annoying, because I actually do have intentions of, y'know, getting shit done, getting a job. But then I have these emails & phone calls to deal with, trying to track down letters and figuring out what I'm going to do about my visa.

I miss being lucky. I'm even tempted to read my horoscope, just to see if there's any hope in the near future, heh.

[I'm also reminded of eating Chinese with Summer and Nakeefa recently, and my fortune cookie saying, "Better luck next time" or something like that. Haha. Oh, man.]

Otherwise, being me is completely fabulous. =P Permanently a ~~pimp.~~

She put her fist in a kaleidoscope to show me all the colors of her strength.

2007-06-14T12:39:00.000-07:00

So, Gaza is in semi-anarchy?

Honestly, I don't even know where to start.

Also, am I the only one who is really tired of the slobbery blow job the media is giving Paris Hilton? Seriously.

I think it was even on CNN the other day; Paris Hilton released a statement urging people to pay less attention to her and more attention to our troops and other issues.[Or something to that effect.] And then, of course, we have to go into her motive-- oh, she says this, but she really DOES want for everyone to hover on her jock. She's so bad, she's so destroying the American idea of justice, blah blah blah.

Regardless of getting into all that, can't we just look at the message of the statement-- namely, that there's a lot more important stuff going on than Paris cheating the legal system? I guess that might not be very persuasive. For example, the millions of people dying from HIV might be more important than the thousands threatened by cervical cancer in the US, but that doesn't make cervical cancer any less of an issue. I guess it's a good thing that people are up in arms about the perks we give our celebrities, though. I'll just be avoiding the coverage.

The argument I want to make about ethical behavior is full of holes, though. I need to re-read some stuff about ethics.

No new word, I know.

No job applications, either.[Oops.]

I can smell a revolution on my upper lip: I'm gonna kiss and tell.

2007-06-13T21:20:00.000-07:00

Don't mind the title. There was some cool idea in my head but my fingers have minds of their own.

New Word:

Encomium - a formal expression of praise

I can...work with that.

Okay, I've actually had things to write about for the past few days[like, my violent dreams, my drama with passports and visas, and my mother's birthday, for examples] but I've been too listless to actually commit myself to writing an entry.

This entry will probably be about talking more mess about goals, only to forget them later. I need to think of a new strategy for sticking to these things. Anyone got any ideas?[I was gonna do post-its...but I was discouraged when I couldn't find any around. I'll look again.]

It's already June and I've already forgotten every goal I made for New Year's.[Though, knowing me, working out was probably one of them.] It's ridiculous. So, maybe I should just be understanding of myself, of my bad memory and my bad resolve, and make goals every few weeks. That way, it's always fresh on my mind.

I don't know.

A few goals.

1. Job by the end of next week.[Supplement: Bet with Pierrette for $10.] Get this stick out of my ass and this pretension out of my mind hinging on comparison with my peers-- the time's gone for an impressive job. Now, I just need cash. I wonder how many jibes I'm going to need from my friends and family before I feel any sense of urgency. Like, it's ridiculous-- I talk a lot of garbage about needing a job, boo freaking hoo, but I don't feel anything. So nothing happens. I'm having trouble churning out determination.

It's also not exactly as if I haven't been trying-- I've sent my resume to about 20 places to date. But it probably also has something to do with the fact that I have been applying to jobs out of my reach. Maybe.

2. Workout every other day. I did some pushups yesterday, I think. Which means tomorrow is gonna my lifting day. More cardio, better eating, all that mess that I haven't followed through on.

3. RE-LEARN CODING. It's funny, because I spend so much time near or on a computer being indolent and doing absolutely nothing, when I could be spending that time learning stuff about programming. And it's not like the tools aren't there. So...I'm gonna work on that. At least practice for like an hour or two a day. Maybe I'll set an alarm for coding time.

4. Two+ chapters in my Chinese textbooks everyday, half a chapter+ in my Japanese book every day. To my credit, I actually have been doing a lot of Chinese and Japanese reading online, mainly Japanese. So, I don't feel too pressed about this one-- I've been more or less keeping up at a pace I wanted to.

5. Read some books. I won't press this either because I've been pretty good about reading. And when I get a job, hopefully I won't have the time.

6. Less ego. I really need to get truly embarrassed. I think I've been really overconfident lately and I need to get out of this...mood.

7. Write a half of a novel or script by the end of June. With Summer having had me read the script she's been working on, I was really impressed and disappointed in myself. My writing has really become nonexistent-- even poetry, I don't even do that anymore. Also, I was reading Trouble Boy, which I meant to review but...didn't. Anyway, the main character has a script he's writing, and that just reminded me all the more about how I've been neglecting my writing.

A few problems: the form of the writing? I definitely prefer reading long, verbose prose which seems to point in the direction of a novel. But, especially with a small acting background, I like scripts as well-- they're easier to handle and they seem a lot more straight forward. They also just seem downright easier to write. But I also have no eye for direction/filming/whatever, so that's another point in the direction of the novel idea. I know there are alternatives-- short stories, poems, whatever. What I think might wind up happening is a novel...with really short chapters. =P

There's also the problem of content-- I have a few ideas in my head, but one of them has always been based on a semi-autobiographical protagonist/narrator. And Summer already has a straight-laced, black gay male as her lead, so...it sort of feels like copying. On the other hand, I do feel as if I have a very specific story to tell, but I really didn't want to base anyone so closely on my life anyway.

There's also the problem of this being my first shot at anything substantial-- I feel as if I'm actually going to do this, I should try a trial run with something less important to me? I feel as if I'd be biased towards something so close to me and not be as critical as I would need to be.

We'll see. I'm kind of unsure about things, now.

8. Talk to people LESS online. Without spilling any beans or getting further into it, it's as if I cannot like people online and in real life. Maybe it's the disconnect between "netiquette"[which I just heard of today] and etiquette.

I'm really just thinking of limiting my contact with social networking sites as much as possible. It's bad.

9. I forgot.

Well, this post is probably long enough.

Deuces.

ETA: Oh, I remembered for lucky number nine. Write shorter entries, more often.

Que embarrassing.

2007-06-04T12:55:00.001-07:00

How utterly embarrassing.

Either I'm losing my sense of humor or I am utterly bored by morons misrepresenting my age group/sexuality/religion/race/gender/neighborhood/whatever.

Edit: Thanks for telling me; guess the clip was taken down on youtube.[I swear, I am really getting over youtube.]

There was no actual video, though, it was a radio clip. You can hear it on zShare, too.

Catching the spirit that travels throughout time.

2007-06-03T17:13:00.000-07:00

New word:

effete - decadent: marked by excessive self-indulgence and moral decay; "a decadent life of excessive money and no sense of responsibility"; "a group of effete self-professed intellectuals"

Now, that's a word I think I'll actually use.

So, let's see. I feel pretty great. I helped Summer move yesterday, which utterly destroyed my back. And my arms. But mainly my back.

And it really helped me work off a lot of the anger I was feeling. It could just be me, and it most likely is, but I can really get tied up in my own emotions and abstractions. And just get really dramatic. And I think it's really just the result of bourgeois privilege, to some extent-- yeah, emotional health, all that, but there are people dying and suffering everyday. And I'll also be alive for decades to come, barring some freak accident-- oh, please don't let me get hit by a bus. These little things like being pissed or disappointed really don't matter most of the time.

So, the point is, getting really physical and just...not overemphasizing my thoughts and analyzing everything really helps me get over my teenage dramatics. So, I'm thankful.

Oh, and my hard drive is broken, which is really upsetting. But I only had it as of two weeks ago, so it's really not that big of a deal, I guess. But I will be sending it in for an exchange first thing in the morning. And trying to get my passport. And canceling my AOL service before I get a bill. And looking for a job.

I guess it's good to finally have real things to do, as opposed to the utter stress and tedium from school. I've got three new books that I want to read too. So we'll see how everything goes.

A few things that actually caught my notice: I start my sentences with 'I' far too often to be a good writer. Looking through my entries and just other documents that I've written on the fly, it's obvious that I've still got this instinctive habit to put an I in. I, I, I. Freshman year, my professor-- whom I often had creative differences with-- got me to think of some of my favorite writers. Baldwin, Hemingway, Irwin, Steinbeck, whoever. Diverse sentence construction is a good thing-- there's no need to start with I all of the time. Who else is talking such that you need to clarify who the actor is so often? Especially in my blog entries, since I'm very often the only actor in any experience I'll relate.

Actually, I don't really know how I feel about it, still.

Also, on Myspace, some of my friends are absolutely obsessed with these glamor icons, especially the gay black/latino boys. And it still doesn't make sense. I certainly joke a lot about loving Paris/Nicole/whoever, but to some extent I realize it's all a big joke-- somewhere, anyway. And I...don't think most other people feel that way.

Originally I had more to say on this point but cartoons are stealing my attention.

Also, my subject title inspires a great fondness in me.

She said, "Don't hold grudges. They'll give you wrinkles."

2007-05-31T07:18:00.000-07:00

Yo.

NEW WORD:

Bivouac: 1 : a usually temporary encampment under little or no shelter
2 a : encampment usually for a night b : a temporary or casual shelter or lodging

And now that that's out of the way--

I hate to do two negative entries right after another, but I guess it's not really avoidable.

So, as I practiced Chinese in the common room of some random dorm at like four in the morning, I was just getting angrier and angrier. What set me off was my not having anywhere to stay, and the subsequent reflections on that, I guess. I don't really care about the specifics anymore, I guess the bottom line is that I thought I only wanted minimal shit-- y'know, a corner to put a sleeping bag that I was gonna borrow, or someone to open the door so I wouldn't get locked out. Or just having access to the bathroom. And I think there was pride involved on my part, too-- I kind of expected an unequivocal okay to my request, so when I felt as if I had to ask twice, or what would have been three times as the case actually was, it was as if I was begging and I really don't like begging, much less my friends.

I guess after that, it was the fact that people that I'm much less closer to saw me and just said yes off the bat when they realized I didn't have anywhere to go that really got me going. I said no, of course-- by then, I was already in this kind of "fuck you" mode and resolved to stay on my couch. And then I started thinking about everything else that's illicited this kind of anger from me-- like, not being able to get back into Cage[the night before my drunken church escapades] and my friends not picking up the phone. Despite my being like, seven feet from one of their faces, kicking the door, yelling their names at the window, the works.

I guess my problem is that I feel as if I give a lot more than I get very often-- I comfort you when you're crying, but you can't pick up your phone or open the door? Dead ass though? And before that, there was Anita, and before Anita there was Brit, and before Brit maybe there was Iasha. Throw Matt in there somewhere. And I guess the ultimate reason is that I usually can't get along with stable, considerate people for whatever reason-- mainly because they're usually so boring. So I become friends with these people, who even if they do care, time and time again just act in ways indicative of a sort of disregard-- or maybe it's just that I feel as if I'd do a lot for people, so I get disappointed really fast when I don't get the same back.

And at first, I just wanted to argue about it, but while I'm still angry, I guess I should just try to live with the fruit of my actions. I was wondering if this was indicative of my own tendency to get mad over stupid shit, or if this is the type of anger I need to master to be a better person. But it's probably not that serious, haha.

I'm pretty sure I once gave someone advice who was in this same type of situation-- when you're in what you feel is an unhealthy relationship, you stop stressing yourself about it or you completely disengage. And I don't even know how I wound up like this. By "this", I mean stupidly overdramatic, concerned with hurting his or her feelings-- "Oh no, she reads this, I shouldn't write that in my blog. I shouldn't say this around her, I should do this." ...What? Haha. I don't know what happened to my fearlessness, but it certainly hasn't been with me for my college career. I need to get my balls back from whoever took them, and I think that's part of what my recent work outs have been about.[This might be for another entry, but I've been feeling increasingly violent-- as if I just want to have an actual fist fight for once. And I'm pretty sure my fitness level is not up to par-- and I also just haven't had a fight since...middle school? haha]

In other news, I completely messed up by not refrigerating my typhoid pills. Now, they're dead. Great. I swear, I need to stop acting like I'm balling or something-- these bills just keep coming from everywhere and I gotta remember that despite hanging with these kids with income...I'm poor, haha.

Wow, I feel a lot better. And Namie Amuro has a promotional video for her new single, "Funky Town" which takes me back to my Namie days in high school. <3. And I almost lost hope for Japanese pop. [And I think BoA* may have a PV for "Sweet Impact", too? Werk it, werk it.]

Haha, maybe I'll do a happier entry later today. Or something that isn't teenage melodrama. =P

Iron Jails and Puppy Dog Tails.

2007-05-25T13:43:00.000-07:00

It's been a while.

It is very much like me that the only time I've felt like making an entry is when I'm feeling at my lowest, but oh well, =P.

So, no new word.

The word on the street is: I KNOW I like adversity and all, but really? Can I get a break?

-- I didn't get either of the SEEDS jobs I wanted.[It's funny-- for the Media whatever, my two good friends wound up getting it while I stupidly forgot to schedule my own damn interview; for the Leadership Position, I just flat out didn't get it.] And I don't know why I didn't get the Leadership thing. I've worked with SEEDS for five years[which I'm pretty sure is more than 95% of the applicants they were getting; the other sites in general don't really have our site's same intern-longevity], I've done community service, I've been working since I was of age. I've a demonstrated interest in education.

It could be because I missed her original phone call for the interview, but my phone was dead. Hmm.

--Getting my passport has been a bitch and a half. I have been going to various Post Offices/Passport places, calling the National Passport Information Center for over two weeks, and also eMailing them. All for an address. Study Abroad Office is getting down my neck about visa applications, and I can't finish my application because I have no passport. I have no passport because my application is incomplete. My application is incomplete because they don't have my birth certificate. And, technically, they did have my birth certificate, but my city invalidated it and made me get another one.[Which was another piece of crap to deal with. I hate VitalChek.] They don't have it now because they WOULD NOT give me an address to send my birth certificate too.

I swear. Thankfully, I finally got through yesterday[and it was so random, too-- I'm so used to dialing the NPIC that it's just habitual, and I was only on like...my fifth redial at 2 p.m. when, instead of getting hung up on, I actually heard-- gasp-- the classical music they play when you're on hold! I almost screamed.] and I overnight-ed everything today. So, hopefully things will work out. Hopefully.

--I am probably the worst Catholic I know. I went to some club in Hoboken, which was a big mistake, with Summer and Nakeefa and wound up walking back home after I couldn't get back in.[Ugh] Then, I had my cousin's confirmation to go to at 9 AM the next day. I was so drunk in that church, it's ridiculous-- I reeked of alcohol. Everyone in my family thinks I'm an alcoholic, my grandfather now has an actual reason to tease me with beer. I am so embarrassed.

Oh, and I wound up throwing up right outside of the church. I really thought I was gonna wind up doing it in the pews; somehow, I made it.

Oh, forgive me, Jesus.

I guess the worst part about this is that all of these are all my fault. 1. My fault for not being a good enough candidate for the job. 2. My fault for losing my rejection letter[Which had the address on it]. 3. My fault for drinking and for going out in the first place[especially when I knew the only thing I ate that day was a bit of rice.].

Honestly, the only good thing that's happened since I've been home has probably been Shawn visiting in NJ. And getting his letter. That made me really happy.

I'm gonna try to get my life together. I've been studying Chinese, and wow, I didn't forget as much as I thought. But I'm still really out of practice. I also have been halfassedly exercising, but I need to step it up a little.

And I will...after I have some ice cream.

I still cannot believe I didn't get that job. I feel like such a damn loser. I don't really need any pick-me-ups either-- I think this is the wakeup call I needed.

Get. your. shit. together.

Some wind in my spine, some fear in my smile lines.

2007-04-21T10:09:00.000-07:00

Finally! A week until classes are over.

New word:

galumph \guh-LUHM(P)F\, intransitive verb:
To move in a clumsy manner or with a heavy tread.

Man, that word even sounds clumsy. "Yo, I saw that obsede chick galumphing around, looking for the bus stop, and I pretended not to see her."

Haha, not funny.

Okay, so, news wise. Let's see. Everyone still seems kinda excited about the Vtech shooting, and for good reason I suppose, but I remember reading somewhere that it's only proof of American privilege..? Like, we have the mayor of Nagasaki getting shot, killings going on daily in Iraq, renewed violence in Sri Lanka, and the only thing we can talk about is Don Imus and Vtech...?

I feel like getting overly philosophical about this[ ie. is the critique simply quantitative, that since more human life is being lost in Iraq, we shouldn't put so much attention on Vtech?], but I won't. I feel as if, especially lately, prioritizing tragedy and whatnot has been coming up a lot lately with people I've been talking to, and so I wanted to mention it.

It's really nice up in Boston for once, finally. Very excited for school to be over. Very, very.

And now, I think I'm gonna head out. I'll try to write more later.

Chao.

And the boy shut his bible and fluttered his eyelashes, saying, "These here are the end times."

2007-04-16T10:39:00.001-07:00

I don't know if everyone's heard yet, but the worst school shooting in US history happened today at Virginia Tech. As of right now, 29 people died and 28 people are injured.

I wonder how long it's going to take for us to realize that we doing today's children a real disservice and causing their unhealthy development. Personally, I refuse to believe these school shootings are isolated incidents, particularly given the momentum they're gaining. What about the Red Lake High School Massacre? Or The Dawson School shooting across the border in Canada? Either Columbine is having a really delayed domino effect, or something weird is going on.

What I would REALLY like to see is this sort of thing addressed by a presidential candidate for 2008, or even what el jefe Bush has to say. I think it's really important, the topic of children. And not just about this incident, but in general, addressing the mental and emotional health of middle and high school students.[I immediately thought of how college students are the more narcissistic now than ever, so maybe we should include young adults in the discussion too]

And I don't want to sound preachy, but I think the first thing that Americans, particularly parents, should be doing is thinking about the ways their raising their children. I feel as if so many people are so self-righteous, so determined to think they know what's best for a child. Really, though?

I also feel like bringing in Cultural Evolution stuff, but I won't.

Anyway, it just caught my attention and I wanted to say something. I do think, for whatever reason, kids today are...more unstable than their/our predecessors. I think a more religious argument, or at least one with more Premillennialist leanings, might say it's a sign of the inability of the government to behave morally. But there are so many ways in which living today is different from living thirty or even twenty years ago-- the mass media becoming even more massive, and the subsequent exposure to violence and sex, how school as an institution has changed in the past years, the state of the economy and the slight shifts in class structure, what we think about health and nutrition. It makes me wish I knew more about child development because there are so many variables involved.

Man.

Living the life of a boxed-in chamber singer.

2007-04-13T14:04:00.000-07:00

So, my econ t.a. found my problem set[and I told him I don't think he checked the mailbox I put my assignment in, but he swore he did] and is gonna give me a 68/70 on my other one for calling me a liar. Holla.[Also, no more tests before the final...? I'm really going to need to ace this final, then...and read the book, =(]

I then overslept and missed work and like..half of my Japanese class, during which we had a test. So I ran to class in some non-matching hideousness and apologized and took the test. Apparently, the second draft of an essay was due today too, but I didn't realize it was due today. Damn. To stay positive though, and hopefully not...too cocky, I think I may have done well on this test, but who knows.

No news today. No new word either, I'm about to take a shower-- I just wanted to talk about things turning around little by little. Next week is gonna be good.[And a day off on Monday, whaaaaat?]

One love.

He's a trainwreck in between my ears.

2007-04-12T17:59:00.000-07:00

Man, what a perfect word to describe things right now: trainwreck.

Speaking of words: Word of the day.

brio \BREE-oh\, noun:
Enthusiastic vigor; vivacity; liveliness; spirit.

I don't feel like talking about stuff I've read today, but I'll do it just to keep the habit. I was on Powerline today, semi-surprisingly. Powerline is a fairly medium-conservative blog that I initially used to go to as a foil to DailyKos[Both are kinda myopic in the news coverage] back when I was trying to become a blogwhore in high school. Anyway, so I checked in, and [unsurprisingly] the author didn't have a comment about the Imus-Rutgers debacle, but he did post two comments that he felt were noteworthy. I'm doing this from memory, but I think they were to the point of the girls' team being whiners/thin-skinned, and that if they were going to cry foul every time someone broke the rules, then they're going to have a hard reckoning with the real world. I think there was also a comment about the team setting a bad example for young girls, since they were good examples of successful, strong females beforehand, and by crying and going on Oprah, they were behaving contrary to the image...or something like that. They suggested different ways to deal with Imus[I think it was tantamount to "ignore him", or show him that you're still gonna succeed despite his words].

I really don't care much about the content-- I feel as if I see the dichotomy come up to often about behavioral maxims. When something wrong is being done to you, do you A. protest it/"whine" and do whatever you can to stop it or B. deal with it/ignore it, and deprive the wrongdoer of the attention [s]he's probably looking for? It comes up all the time with racist incidents, if not all incidents of bias.

Honestly, I think it's more of a contextual thing. Sometimes protesting is useless, and sometimes ignoring stuff is really not useful at all. In this case, I'd say the protesting was useful-- Imus' sponsors got pulled, and CBS and MNBC stopped running his show. So bye, bye Imus.

I also generally find problems in 95% of the situations wherein we blame the victims, which is partially why I find problems with people getting angry at the people gloating at Al Sharpton's expense. He apparently sided with the rape victims in the Lacrosse rape trial[s?], and now that they've been cleared of the charges, I've been seeing some vitriol on some blogs about him. Honestly, at the time that he declared his support, no one really knew much of what happened anyway. I just...find it a little weird to gloat about his being wrong in this case, I guess. I wanted to make a point that we tend to re-victimize victims[even in this case, wasn't it that the girl was still raped, just not by the lacrosse team? I need to check it out again], but I forgot exactly how I wanted to make that case.

Oh, and Wolfowitz apparently gets busted for his own corruption? Weird, and kind of unexpected, I guess. I wonder if Bush released a statement.

Alright, now that I've done some news. Let's talk about me.

A few days ago I split a pole, and I think I'm paying for it, eightfold. I kid you not.

First, it turns out the Comparative Religion midterm I did got a B+, not an A like I expected. There's another Steven in my class, and apparently I got his comment sheet and he got mine. I wrote down the wrong date for my Armenian history presentation, which was apparently last Tuesday instead of next Tuesday. So, I missed my presentation. My econ T.A. lost both of my problem sets, so I apparently have to resubmit them and lose 20 points each. Also, I did fairly poorly on my exam from Tuesday, but I was not the only one. Also, my Japanese grades are kind of going...splat. Also...did I think I was just gonna magically find a job for the Summer? What the hell am I doing?

It's just like, damn. I've been thinking that I could just...coast around, doing the bare minimum, and get a bunch of As, but. I am f*cking up. Actually, I don't know what I thought, to be straight with you-- I've been reading comic books nonstop for the past few days because I think I like a boy[to be discussed] and I needed a distraction. Oh man, oh man.

I kind of had a good dosage of self-hatred[the perfect getter-upper, or at least in high school] after I talked to this chick who's apparently from near my high school. We were talking about my high school, and how I had 3 hour commutes each way. She and her friends made it seem so magical. And I guess I remember now-- falling asleep in my classes, being frustrated on the bus, coming out junior year, my envy of more or less any of the other four hundred students at school, my problems with the work, my disillusionment with education and upper middle class kids. My pride, my anger, my envy.

I don't know why I've stopped believing in myself, but I have, and I kind of forgot everything about my heroes. And it's like I'm spoiled-- I used to survive on two to three hours a day, and suddenly I'm tired on ten hours of sleep. I always have to remind myself not to get sucked into the pace at this school.

It's actually kind of gross, how I've lost almost all of my self-control. So I'm taking it back. Gotta shake it off. After practice, I may just have a work-a-thon.
Really, what this is about is my mother-- if there's anyone who's suffered more for the sake of me than me, it's her. And I may play the tortured role in my mind sometimes, and I may think that she does some silly/insensible things sometimes, but she does not deserve a son who can't even get his fucking act together.

Wow, I'm getting progressively angrier at myself. I'm such a momma's boy.

What's REALLY been driving me crazy, though, is the fact that I like Shawn and I want to date him. He might read this, and I guess my other friends do too, if they've bothered to read this far, but if I remember properly, part of this blog was supposed to be about being no holds barred.

IT HAS BEEN BOTHERING ME FOR AT LEAST A WEEK and it is frustrating as all hell. I stand by my assertions to Irene & co that emotions are easy; it's meta-emotions are hard. Do I want to like him? can I be sure that that's what I actually worth it? I feel as if the problem isn't to like him or not to.

Anyway, I could explain the many, many things I like about Shawn, talk about the fact that I really do think he has a kindness that's fairly uncommon. But I also feel as if I'm not worth it, that I'm still "in transit" in a lot of ways that would prevent me from having a meaningful relationship. There's also the fact that he graduates in...a month? I almost feel like just saying, "what's the point?"

I'm actually surprised I wrote about my Shawn-dilemma. I guess what finally settled things was the fact that in DeWick, as I was eating my Matzo and drinking my soda, I realized that he could probably hurt me if he wanted to. And I don't even know what that'd be like-- this is kind of the first kind of experience I'm having where I'm starting to like someone exclusively for their personality as opposed to sex, or being driven exclusively by what the sex will be like.[Which is why I don't like a lot of people, I guess-- few people really get me aroused to that extent] So it's just weird. I kind of wanted to hook him up with someone else, just because I think he can do better.[once I give him a haircut, anyway, =P]

But that's far too much high school dramatics. I think I'm just going to have to talk to him, ask him what his feelings are[I guess I've been working under the assumption that he does like me, so I wonder what'll happen if he doesn't], and figure out things from there.

And if we do wind up dating, I'm going to have to put it on Facebook.[Sorry, Gracie, =P]

Alright, I'm tired of talking, I'm all determined and stuff now. Plus, I've got practice in twenty minutes.

“You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience by which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.”

Preach, Eleanor, preach.

Gertrude Stein never knew an autobiography like mine.

2007-04-10T18:57:00.000-07:00

New word:

abecedarian \ay-bee-see-DAIR-ee-uhn\, noun:
1. One who is learning the alphabet; hence, a beginner.
2. One engaged in teaching the alphabet.

If there were ever a useless word.

Hi, Kids.

Sorry, finals are coming with the quickness and I still don't know what I'm going to do for a job. It's quite problematic. I almost wonder if I can still do SEEDS, possibly Phase III this time[I've done NJ SEEDS, this nonprofit that helps urban minorities get into private high schools, for about five years. I'm also an alumni of the program myself. Anyway, I've been working with phase I for this time, but Phase III is the mock-boarding school experience and has a higher salary]

What else.

Oh, news.

A few things caught my eye that I remember right now.

This made me very happy.

Also, apparently congress is about to do another debate on stem cell funding, which I'm pretty sure is gonna go no where, unfortunately. The atmosphere in this country may be a little different, but not so much to force this administration to change its policies on stem cell research.

Also, this was a serious victory for biological privacy rights.

"I had hoped that common sense and the legal framework would hold up. I'm grateful that it has done so... Being a mother is still an option to her that does not involve me."--Mr. Howard Johnston

The idea that she could even use the embryos is ridiculous. It's unfortunate that she's lost the ability to have a child with her own genes, but when you give up sperm or eggs to create an embryo for IVT, it's under the implication of consent from both parties. In an ethical sense, I think it's kind of ridiculous that it would have been possible to have his child without his consent. Legally, I have my doubts that there's a consent clause that states the usage of the embryo is on condition of both parties still being in a relationship[but I would think consent would go in there, and apparently he didn't want her to have his child]. Messed up world.

And finally, something else that's been on my mind[since, I don't really pay attention to school very often] has been the DNC not endorsing FOX, the influence of democratic blogopia on the web, and the big three[Obama, Clinton, and Edwards] saying they wouldn't appear on the CDC-FOX debate.

Honestly, I find the CBC questionable-- I don't trust black leadership in America period, perhaps even leadership in general. NAACP, the Congressional Black Caucus, National Black Justice Coalition, Amnesty International, Human Rights International. I don't think I'm looking for perfection, but it seems as if time and time again there's some bad economics going on, or my interests are not being represented.

Anyway, I've been reading some commentary and talking to some people, I guess, and a common response seems to be questioning why, I guess. Is Fox really so biased that the debate would wind up hurting Democratic candidates? It's a legitimate television network.

Honestly, I don't care so much about how the debate will be handled-- people keep saying that Obama's got no substance, blah blah. But I don't know how to respond to that; he's got his responses to issues on his website. He's been speaking for almost a year now; he's not just blowing hot air, the transcripts of his speeches come with his responses to issues. So...I guess I just don't really get the complaint. Are Clinton and Edwards really that much better, or are we holding Obama to different standards?

Regardless, what I do like is that this is not going on Fox is really a flex of democratic muscle for once. If there's one thing I hate about liberals, it's that they're wimps. It's kind of pathetic-- honestly, for the media to be so 'liberal' and all this mess, and for so many liberal academics to be ruling our educational system and whatnot, they're doing a crappy job making use of that influence. I love Republican attacks, they're sharp. Man. No holds barred. Manipulation, whatever it takes. And I'm not saying I'm looking to be manipulated, but I feel as if liberals have so many constructive/structural assumptions to set before making a complete argument that they're almost fundamentally incapable of being really zingy most of the time. And, zingy is good.

Also, if I meet another self-righteous liberal, I am going to scream.

Anyway, I think the problem with Fox News has been a consistent misrepresentation and manipulation of the news[and I don't think other television news companies are innocent either, but I think there has been an effective and intent agenda in mind with Fox News for...however long I've known about Fox News]. And, if you feel as if they're against you, stop paying them attention. Stop whining.

So, I like that they're not going on there. I think I'd like it even more if they went on Fox News, trounced any possible misrepresentations/whatever, but save maybe Clinton, I don't think I trust any of them to be able to defend themselves. And even Clinton would be working really uphill.

Oh, and save Giuliani, I think I hate the Republican candidates.

Oh well.

What about y'all? Any comments/other news worth talking about?

Chao.

My soul comes with a side order of biscuits and mashed potatoes.

2007-03-23T22:17:00.000-07:00

I'm incorrigible.

NEW WORD: fulminate- Verb; to loudly attack or denounce

My my, what to say, what to say. Since my last post, I've more or less finished with my midterms. I'm on Spring Break right now, just convalescing at home, I guess. I haven't really left the house at all, except today.[And, oh man. Did I buy the finest fitteds-- with rhinestones! Truly befitting a fabulicious young gay man of color like myself.]

Sorry, I was so obsessed with touting my own horn...

Oh, right, so that's pretty much the state of affairs. I've got about five weeks left of class, and oh, am I counting down the days. I am so ready to graduate college and go to grad school/law school/business school/someplace NOT IN BOSTON.

I discovered BGClive recently, so that's been taking up tons of my time. There's a lot of overlap with adam4adam, but sometimes I forget how many good looking guys there are and I just feel like being a teenage boy and...."fuck[ing] bitches, [get[ting] money.]"

Aside from that, I've been doing a lot of reading, a lot of reconnecting. I spoke to my good friends Nikita and Luke recently, both of whom I was really close to in high school. They actually dated for about two to three years but they called the quits a while ago.

Anyway, Nikita is great. I feel like I'm so obsessed with being respectful and not offending people that in a lot of ways I have silenced my opinion, but I was such a cocky bitch in high school, or at least really blunt. And Nikita isn't trashy blunt, but very straightforward and hilarious. And a lot of times we just..have the same opinion on everything without even realizing it. Even talking about how traumatizing high school was, or various poetic devices, like...I feel like we just automatically agree.

And we're both really lazy, too.

So, we exchanged poetry and talked about college and how we're both ready to graduate. It was great. I really miss seeing her beautiful face everyday.

Luke was actually my best friend, and I guess he sort of still is. It's odd, we had this running gag freshman year that freaked the hell out of me, but we really share a lot of the same ideas. And, we both kind of started studying Japanese around the same time. Then, in college, coincidentally, we both started studying Chinese. Now, he took a short trip to Tokyo and is in Beijing this semester; I'll be going to Hangzhou, which is a bit south of Shanghai, this Fall, then I'll be studying in Kanazawa, Japan this spring.

It's just...wow. I don't understand where all of this overlap comes from. But, since he's in China, I assumed he wouldn't be able to get on AIM or access any sort of eMail service, but clearly, I was not very informed on the Chinese Great Firewall situation. So,we spit the breeze about this and that and I'm just so happy for him. He gave me pointers, etc.

I guess by bringing them up I'm just reminded of how glad I am that I have friends like them...even though we go to different schools. I really think we'll stay in touch, even though when everyone was writing "K.I.T." in everyone's yearbooks, I really thought it was a load of crap.

I started working out again, which has been more or less limited to doing tons of pushups. When I get back to school, I'm gonna try to do more cardio.

I was thinking about it, especially since my mom's friend's sister died recently, but I really don't eat healthily. I hate vegetables. And I was looking at my dinner from the other day-- stew chicken, potatoes, rice. Sausage. There was broccoli, but I just remember pouring some of the juice on my rice and....mmm. It was good, but I'm pretty sure I felt my arteries get a little tighter as I swallowed that sausage.[No sexual pun intended.] And, like, that's just what I eat, greasy stuff. Tons of pizza, at least three double cheese burgers a day. And I'm still thin, so I guess I'm relatively lucky, but it's not just going no where.

I don't know if I'm feeling this because Summer's coming and I think I have boys to impress, but I'm also getting actually concerned about my health. Particularly since high blood pressure runs deep in our family and I live for salt. LIVE FOR IT.

Also, I'm gonna try to start writing again and being more political. I'm losing my edge, man.

I've got so much more to say, but maybe I'll try to fit the rest in an entry tomorrow. Assuming I have the time-- it's my grandmother's birthday.

Live for me, lovers.

Infrequent si[g]ns of a divine creator.

2007-03-09T01:20:00.000-08:00

Sorry, I've been rather infrequent with my postings.

NEW WORD.

Asperity- noun; harshness of manner, something hard to endure

Um. What to say, what to say...

1. I'm very ready to graduate. I'm not just saying that because I'm in the throes of midterms, but I think I just want to spend time with my mother. I'm just tired, and being at home just makes everything alright.

2. I'm going abroad next year? Don't know if I've said stuff about that already.

Hmm. I'm trying to figure out what this exhaustion is-- it's not even school, it's just being frustrated and tapped of all of my spirit, my patience, my compassion, my anger, my grief, it's almost nihilistic. I also blame my Culture Evolution class and my inability to find an argument pro-free will[sorry, philosophy talk-- maybe I'll get into that later]

It's funny, this summer I said, "this year will just be 'the year that never happened'", what with my getting braces and loading up on classes. I think I was half-serious, but...that's gonna be my new mantra.

[Oh yeah, the "Beautiful Liar" video is the shit. ]

One Love.

ETA: I just realized part of the reason I can't flesh out all of my thoughts is because I've got everyone reading this stuff again.

Maybe I'll actually start a real blog...more anonymous, etc.

ETA PART II: Since I was reminded about the whole straight thing...

Well, I was just thinking about how much I must be disappointing my family and other people. And I know all of this "be true to yourself" BS and "if they can't take you for all of you, then it's probably not worth it"...but, isn't it? Anyway, I was primarily wondering if I was really as opposed to girls as I thought I was, and if I could actually get a girl. And I think I could if I played my cards right. And would it really be that bad? I mean, I'd probably be leading her on, because I doubt I'd be able to keep that charade up for long, but...wouldn't it be worth it just to give my family the spectacle, of me with a girlfriend/wife[as an adult]?

I don't think I'd actually do it-- it's not fair, just straight up deception-- but I just wanted to say that I am privy to these types of thoughts now and then, and especially then. I also feel as if I have a lot of masculinity/power issues, being gay-- as much as I try to not be anti-femme or whatever, I definitely regulate my own actions all the time so that I'm at least...neutral? I feel as if with a girlfriend, the whole masculinity thing isn't much of an issue-- the sexual role is assumed, and it's just less of a headache.

Also, I was just thinking of children, and I remembered a conversation I had with my grandfather about him passing on his name. He had four girls, so it was supposed to die, but then I took my mom's name so...yeah. I don't know.

I think I've just been trying to see if I could bisexualize myself, but I'm feeling kinda asexual this year anyway, so it's not even worth talking about.

And now...One love.

Don't get yourself in situations.

2007-02-25T02:26:00.000-08:00

I never thought I'd say this but,

I'm considering being straight.

Pray for me.

I'm torn in-between the two.

2007-02-18T11:31:00.000-08:00

Like, y'know, that Letoya Luckett Song? Man, I was feeling some of those remixes.

Beware, partially explicit.

Anyway, I just had sex with one of the most reviling guys I've ever been with. Oh man.

I don't even know where to begin.

I guess we should start with some background information. For about the past three weeks or so, probably closer to four or five, I took a pledge against masturbation. I don't know what the reasoning was-- I think I just wanted to restore some order and control to my life.

I also vowed myself to celibacy when I got my braces. There's this song from Nelly Furtado called "Forca", and there's this part where it goes "No half-assed." And, that's kinda my motto-- no half-assed anything if I can, and so. Until I'm muscular, gorgeous, and free from the rein of these accursed braces, I decided I would be celibate and wouldn't actually...put effort into a real relationship. Technically, I should wait until I'm emotionally stable, but I'm a teenager, so that's not gonna happen for another eighty years.

Anyway, non-masturbation? Definitely one of the worst ideas I've ever had. I like to go for a week sometimes, just to remind my body who's in charge, but anything over that just gets me frustrated real fast.

Um.

I've been really emotional and down in the dumps lately, I guess. Particularly when I was feeling all persecuted-Catholic, which i discussed in my last entry. Then, Friday night we had a party at the LGBT-theme house, the Rainbow House, which was fun. But then I saw my exes hooking up? And, I think I'm just...really possessive, so I just got grossed out or something. I felt bad-- I was definitely, like, being flirted with which was fun. But I was just avoiding eyesight and being weird, I guess.

I think my problem is that I see this day when everything turns out fabulous-- I'll always be short, that's not changeable, but my braces'll be gone, I'll have like...eighty pounds of muscle, lots of money to buy lots of great clothes. Oh man. I'm oozing in anticipation.

So, I've been a little down. And, when I'm down, I...like to screw pathetic guys to make myself feel better? For one, it's a position of power-- I was so grossed out throughout the entire thing that I just became more and more unaroused as the ordeal went on. For another, you get compliments. I'm really simple, so, I believe every word. =). And then when he said, "We can finish this another time", I thought about saying, "Sorry, I don't do seconds" but...he also had me by a good few inches and pounds, so I just said "Yeah."

He had a nice dick, though. Kudos.

Luckily, like the Godsend that my wife is, Gracie called me about an hour into it and rescued me from sir grossness. She's here in Boston today-- I have to thank her profusely for saving me.

I mean, I don't know-- I'm a bitch, I guess, because I believe in ego sex. It brings me back to like...junior/senior year, where I was coming out and was even more of a Paris Hilton/Nicole Richie fan. It's just so...uplifting. Hahaha.

Another positive is that I never want to have sex again. Like, I think that's going to take another entry, but I feel like I'm so in love with boys. Almost boy-crazy. I love looking at boys. It's the sex that sucks.

Actually, I think I just need to try it with someone I like. I haven't done that for a while.

Note: I swear, I've only slept with like...10-15 people. Honest. And only maybe like...two were good.

Oh man. The whole time, I kept thinking of the Mary above my head, and how her gaze was directly aimed at me. And "Throw Some D's" in the background, haha.

Alright, I need to take a shower before my roommate does. Chao, kids.

Umm.

2007-02-16T23:53:00.000-08:00

I've never seen two people that I've been with...hook up with one another.

It's definitely one of the more bizarre feelings I've ever had.

More on this later. I'm too drunk to give a full explication right now.

There's blood in my mouth, 'cause I've been biting my tongue all week.

2007-02-15T15:41:00.000-08:00

There's this band I used to like, Rilo Kiley. They fell out of favor as I [re]discovered R&B, but I guess I just remembered why I liked them today.

I've got a few things to talk about. But FIRST:

inchoate - adj. newly begun, incomplete, not organized

Who the hell says inchoate? "My word, sally, the speech I've written to deliver in Gettysburg is still quite inchoate! And whither Mary Wollenstonecraft dares inspire me to write, I cannot write a sentence!"

Haha.

Well, anyway, I'm sick. Cough effin' sneeze sick. Boston's crazy-- we just got like six inches the other day[I was PERFECTLY happy with global warming, kthnx], and now I'm all slipping in ice and whatnot. It's gross and sad.

But that's not why I'm sick. I started getting the sniffles after I pointed out [correctly] to a friend that she's been at my college for like..eight years. Alright, I was being sarcastic, but I certainly didn't deserve her to splash an entire cup of water at me when it's like..8 degrees outside.

I mean, I was mad, if only because I knew what was gonna happen[I'd get sick, and it did happen]. But I guess I shouldn't dish it out if I can't take it? Especially from radioactive females who think it's okay to attack boys and get no sort of reprisal.

Man, I'm so tired of those games.

I mean, I remember thinking when I came out that since I was gay, girls wouldn't like...hit me when I said something funny, or do stupid stuff to me. They're just words-- I've got faults too, crack on me. But it never happens that way. I guess I've just gotta learn to keep my mouth shut more often.

Or get some armor.

Otherwise, I skipped two classes today. That may seem bad, but last semester[and...all of last year], I skipped class so much. Not even intentionally, but I just won't wake up if I don't want to-- or I'll turn off my alarm, go to sleep, and have no recollection of ever having woken up. For instance, last year, I went to like...less than half of all of my intro to philosophy classes. Still wound up with a B, though.

Anyway, now that my schedule practically starts at 12/1:30 everyday, waking up isn't so much of a problem. That said, today was pretty much all of my fault. I had a small reflection paper due today and an Economics problem set, stuff I've known about for a good while now. And, instead of doing it last night, or any other night, I decided to watch Oz instead.

Ohhh, man, do I love Oz. I have this habit, which is why I try not to watch television. Once I start a show, especially if I have the dvds or I'm downloading it, I have to finish it. It was like that with..every anime I've ever seen.[Yeah, I used to be addicted. Now, I only keep up with a few anime. Naruto, Death Note, etc.] It was like that with Noah's Arc.[Hell, it's still like that with Noah's Arc. I've seen each episode like 10 times. And I'm still gonna watch it after I finish Oz.] It was like that with Queer as Folk. And it's like that with Oz.

Spoilers for those who've never seen it, but back when it was on HBO, before I had cable, I'd go to my aunt's house or my grandmother's house to watch it every weekend. It came on Saturday nights, I think. So I already know what's gonna happen, but I'm just waiting for Beecher and Keller to...like, really fall in love again, and so I keep downloading and watching, thinking it's gonna be the next episode. And it still hasn't happened. Man. I'm anxious.

I'm on season three right now. Six more to go.

So, that's my television addiction. Oh, right, and anime. Naruto Shippuuden finally aired, which makes me happy. For those who don't know/care, I'll go for brevity: Naruto's this series about a blond haired brat who wants to become the top ninja in his village, and the anime has been sucking for at least about two years. So I've just been keeping up with the comics.[Which, were also pretty good this week. Probably because of Sasuke.] Anyway, Shippuuden is the show finally following the comics again, and the premiere was really good, I thought. So, yay.

But that's that.

What's really concerning me, I think, is my faith. I mean, I won't pretend I'm a good Catholic-- I think I'm more about the trappings than the actual doctrine. I haven't read the bible for a few years, but I still think about...tattooing "Mary, full of grace" on my arm and "Hail Mary" on my back, and I've got a Mary poster on my wall. Which I think is another problem-- I feel like I know that God comes first, and I recognize God/Christ above all things, but my mind always seems to come back to Mary. I don't know what that's about.

So, the point is I recognize my failings. And I try to be humble in as many manners as I can-- not to force my religion on people, to only talk about it when asked, etc. But I'm starting to wonder about my friends-- granted, a lot of it is just stupid banter and mean jokes, but...I almost feel like I'm being demeaned? And if it continues, I think I'm going to have to bring it up.

I don't want to be tolerated. It's kind of like being gay, for me, being a Catholic-- it's integral to me. I've made my own decision, of my own avowal, and I don't feel comfortable being demeaned for my religious affections.

I feel as if I'm almost losing my way, or something, like I need to pray more. Get my life together. I think I'm getting carried away with being social and forgetting what gives my life meaning. God. Family. Love.

But I also feel as if I'm being self-righteous, which is probably inevitable for me. I'm not even really looking for counsel. I think I just need some down time to re-evaluate where I'm going with my life.

Also, I was thinking of giving up alcohol for Lent, almost as a way of punishing myself[because, Oh man, do I drink often]. But I can't figure out if my reasons are good. Yeah, it's hard, but is that sufficient reason? I'm pretty sure I can think of equally hard things. Using the computer for recreation, for example. Shopping. Partying. And it goes on.

I guess I think I may be using this because I want to distance myself from people or something. Especially since a friend just told me that my giving up alcohol is ridiculous/impossible. I mean, yeah, I guess it was funny, but it's also serious. I shouldn't give it up to prove it to her-- that's not the point of Lent at all. The point is to empathize with Christ's suffering in the desert, from fasting and whatnot. To recognize suffering.

I'm sorry, I'm being all serious and stuff about this.

But that aside, I've been having a lot of good luck lately. I guess I'll talk about that later, though.

Later, holmes and holmettes.

Hercules in his smile-lines.

2007-02-03T05:29:00.000-08:00

Sorry, I've been tied up with academia BS. I keep thinking, "I've gotta write something here when I've got the time", but it never actually happened.

And the word of the day is...

luculent- limpid: (of language) transparently clear; easily understandable; "writes in a limpid style"; "lucid directions"; "a luculent oration"

Hmm. Soon, maybe I'll actually be ready for the GREs.

So, I decided to petition so that I could take six classes. Study abroad applications were due this week also, and I finally declared the philosophy major, so I've just been running around trying to get my stuff together. Whew.

And now: F school.

I came home last night/this morning[I have braces, so I come home every month to get my braces tightened]. And man, it's funny how sobering coming home actually is.

I was talking to my mom about finances...and apparently we have a lot less saved than I thought. Like, I thought we set aside the money for my braces[the procedure's "cosmetic", so my insurance doesn't cover any of my braces costs]. But, suddenly she has like...50 dollars in the bank? Well, not counting paychecks, but I just don't get where it goes.

Like, part of the reason why I try not to spend her money is so that she can save some for herself. But it still doesn't work. And she doesn't spend it on herself, so I just have no idea where it goes. I know there are random unexpected bills we've been having, but I thought we'd still have more saved.

Anyway, money aside, it just puts things back in perspective. At school, when you're surrounded by these kids who really don't plan or have to worry about basic stuff, it kinda slows down my pace a little. And it's cool to have fun, I guess, but I don't think I'm as mature at school? It's a good thing, to be around people your own age and do work and drink and party and all that, but...maintaining priorities is definitely a struggle.

Finances aside, I just love being around my mother. I'm a major momma's boy.

Also, something that caught me was when I was on the shuttle to the train station, from school. This kid, who I figured was gay from the start anyway, was telling me about how he had a date with this boy at the nearby movie theatre. They were going to see Pan's Labyrinth, which I totally recommend if you can find it. It's brutal, but it's good. When he called it a date, though, it just kinda struck me because...I don't think I've ever had one?

I mean, I've dated girls, but I don't really count those. I mean, not going to give the entire T on my boy history, but I've never dated a guy. Like, when I first came out I was so sex crazy that I thought it was just a waste of money and time, I guess. Or I'd go to a club/party with my friends and that'd be my social activity for the night. I also think I've just never been keen on emotional commitments-- I've had a boyfriend, but we never really..dated? Like, it wasn't romantic at all, it was just a friendship on a really deep level. I mean, it was great, but I just think I've never been ready to put myself out there and be emotionally involved with someone.

So, I think that's gonna be my new resolution for 2007. To...have a date.

In other news, did I say I love being home? (=. Boston is gross.