It's funny, listening to Jennifer Hudson belt out "I am telling you, 'I'm not going' completely dominates my attention. Like, I've been reading this manuscript for class and I forgot my comments just because of me having to sing along at specific parts.
I've had the Dreamgirls soundtrack on repeat for the past hour.
In another news, my forgetfulness must be pretty obvious by now. I totally forgot about my vocab word idea.[And, the whole identity keyword thing, but that seemed like a partially tedious idea anyway.]
Vocabulary word of the day: Desuetude.
desuetude \DES-wih-tood, -tyood\, noun:
The cessation of use; discontinuance of practice or custom; disuse.
Found that on some GRE flashcards.
This week was like...pure academic confusion. I'm still taking all of the classes that I had planned beforehand, but I just don't know what I'm going to major in anymore. To give some sort of background information, I'm really trying to sap as much from my college education that I possibly can. For one, I'm trying to go to China for my fall semester next year[I'll be a junior], and Japan for my spring semester. The main problem is that I have no money, so I'm gonna see what financial aid can hook me up with...that's what it there for, right? And it's not like I want to play around, I do want to get fluent in Chinese and Japanese.
Asia's gonna control my life, I guess.
Anyway, for another, I'm also trying..to triple major, I guess? But I kinda made things hard for myself. My school has a lot of annoying requirements, and I've gotten most of them done, it's just really science and art credits.[By the way, 1 credit = 1 class, most of the time.] Science is being the real thorn in my backside. I know the International Relations major will happen-- it requires like...20 specific credits, and I've got about 12 of them. The other contenders are Japanese, which is pretty likely as a second major, Chinese, and Philosophy.
Philosophy stands out I guess, being the least...Asian/international, and it's the hardest for me to complete. The major requires 10 credits and I've got..4. Y'see, this would all be so easy if I weren't going abroad next year-- I'm only a sophomore, so I'm actually kind of ahead with 4 already. But it's just I'm really not gonna have the time as a senior to complete the major unless I take summer classes or..really load up senior year. I don't know.
I'm in this Philosophy seminar right now, Cultural Evolution, and I feel pretty overwhelmed, I guess. My philosophy classes have usually been concerned with ethics and whatnot, but this one is more about theoretical anthropology, memetics, and using a Darwinian approach to areas other than biology. I just feel...really not as well read as any of my other classmates.
I like challenges and all, but I'm just not sure if I want to invest all of this effort.
Oh well. Sorry, all of this academic nonsense must be boring, but I just need to air my thoughts.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Cauliflower dreamer.
I'm at work, but 'work' is never actually a big thing anyway...so.
One thing I haven't mentioned is that I'm a real prolific dreamer.
Like, I just have really...weird dreams, all the time. I think it's the food I eat.
I had these weird nightmares last week that I was getting raped by my best friend[who's female, which makes it even weirder] and it was just so freaky. I remember waking up angry as hell.
But I don't want to go into too much detail on that.
Anyway, in the dream I had last night, I came home from school and my mother had converted to becoming a Jehovah's Witness. She didn't act like a real Jehovah's Witness, though-- she just acted like she was in a cult. Suddenly we couldn't eat this, and I couldn't do that-- and I remember just telling her that the whole thing was BS[no offense to any actual JWs out there-- it wasn't really an accurate depiction in my dream anyway]. We kept arguing and I kept throwing away her little JW trinkets and eventually her 'leader' type guy came over to our house for a true JW dinner. And it was like..orange juice and some Glazed donuts. And, for some reason I was really hungry, so I was fiending for my donut.
But, when I went to get it from the refrigerator, the leader guy just told me how I was making the home environment uncomfortable for a new convert like my mother, and that I was some heathen who was converting her from the path of righteousness, or something like that. And then we got into it. Eventually I said, "I just want my freakin' donut", and he told me that I didn't deserve the whole thing and only gave me a slice of it. I got really heated after that. When he left, I tried to eat the rest, and my mother and I got into it. So I called over my aunt and my cousins. I was just, like, "You are being brainwashed! Y'know, religion is important, so if you wanna throw your soul away then I don't even know if we should live together."
And then she kicked me out. And my uncle did some shady hustling stuff.
Sorry, me telling it is wordy to the max, but it was so weird as it happened. Especially since the only reason I woke up was because my mom called-- I was almost just about to say, "Why did you become a Jehovah's Witness!?!?"
So bizarre. I love Jehovah's Witnesses, =P
One thing I haven't mentioned is that I'm a real prolific dreamer.
Like, I just have really...weird dreams, all the time. I think it's the food I eat.
I had these weird nightmares last week that I was getting raped by my best friend[who's female, which makes it even weirder] and it was just so freaky. I remember waking up angry as hell.
But I don't want to go into too much detail on that.
Anyway, in the dream I had last night, I came home from school and my mother had converted to becoming a Jehovah's Witness. She didn't act like a real Jehovah's Witness, though-- she just acted like she was in a cult. Suddenly we couldn't eat this, and I couldn't do that-- and I remember just telling her that the whole thing was BS[no offense to any actual JWs out there-- it wasn't really an accurate depiction in my dream anyway]. We kept arguing and I kept throwing away her little JW trinkets and eventually her 'leader' type guy came over to our house for a true JW dinner. And it was like..orange juice and some Glazed donuts. And, for some reason I was really hungry, so I was fiending for my donut.
But, when I went to get it from the refrigerator, the leader guy just told me how I was making the home environment uncomfortable for a new convert like my mother, and that I was some heathen who was converting her from the path of righteousness, or something like that. And then we got into it. Eventually I said, "I just want my freakin' donut", and he told me that I didn't deserve the whole thing and only gave me a slice of it. I got really heated after that. When he left, I tried to eat the rest, and my mother and I got into it. So I called over my aunt and my cousins. I was just, like, "You are being brainwashed! Y'know, religion is important, so if you wanna throw your soul away then I don't even know if we should live together."
And then she kicked me out. And my uncle did some shady hustling stuff.
Sorry, me telling it is wordy to the max, but it was so weird as it happened. Especially since the only reason I woke up was because my mom called-- I was almost just about to say, "Why did you become a Jehovah's Witness!?!?"
So bizarre. I love Jehovah's Witnesses, =P
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
She gon' take everything I own...
Y'know, I'm tired of losing friends.
That's the hardest thing about the coming out process, bar none. Luckily, for me they've been peripheral friends-- kids I'd hang with and whatnot, who were fun but not necessarily people I'd trust. I don't know what I'd do if my mom had disowned me, for example.
We actually had a talk about this over Winter Break, my mother and I, about what I would have done. In the back of my mind I had a few friends whom I'd already come out to who I expected to put me up for a while until I found something more permanent. Then, there was the fact that I was going to college the year after, so I was hoping that would work. If my mom didn't have my back, everybody else in my family would have gotten word of it and it probably would have been a mass disowning. As it is now, I haven't come out to my aunts or any of the older relatives.
Everything turning out great was entirely situational, which I think it took me a while to get used to. If I'd been born to, say, any of my other aunts, for example, I'd have been kicked out, definitely. Or something would have happened, like sending me down South to 'fix' me. For a while, though, I think I had this privileged attitude like "well, if you're not out, you're not worth my time"-- but that's so myopic and immature, I think I've realized. For example, if I knew my mother'd disown me, especially since she's all I have, I never would have even come out at all. Definitely not in school, either, especially since word would get back home at some point. And so I'd definitely be in my 20's or 30's before I eventually took the big step, once I was out of school and had my own stability.
Anyway, for a while, I think I just frowned upon the whole DL thing-- and I think I still do, to some extent. I can't help it-- lying's unfortunate, especially about your sexuality. When it's necessary, it's necessary; but when you're 38 and still 'in the closet', I have trouble accepting that. I mean, I can understand wanting to maintain connections to people who'd throw you out of their lives, if they'd known, but I don't know. I guess I'm simple, but if I'm so replaceable that you could stop talking to me over whom I sleep with and whom I don't, then I wouldn't be able to help coming to the conclusion that I never really meant much to you at all. Y'know? But it could just be me.
I think there's a snobbery that comes with coming out, at least for me, like we're doing the right thing and the liars and deceivers aren't. And, while that may be what I think, I should also try to be humble and remember that we're all just human. So the self-righteousness is probably unnecessary.
This was because of someone else recently finding out I'm gay, which really isn't much of a secret anyway. [S]he and I aren't friends anymore, I guess.
Which reminds me, something that I still haven't gotten over, and still should probably confront my cousins over, is them reading my Myspace, seeing the 'gay' for sexual orientation, and sending it through the entire family chain. That s*it was ridiculous, especially since they act as if it never happened, and we still act normally. I mean, now there's just this tension whenever dating comes up, and I really don't know why they thought that'd even be interesting to do. Especially since they weren't being malicious.
I try not to care about too much, I guess, just keep things simple. Be moral. Live my life, love as much as I can, be as honest as I can.
Definitely hard, though.
That's the hardest thing about the coming out process, bar none. Luckily, for me they've been peripheral friends-- kids I'd hang with and whatnot, who were fun but not necessarily people I'd trust. I don't know what I'd do if my mom had disowned me, for example.
We actually had a talk about this over Winter Break, my mother and I, about what I would have done. In the back of my mind I had a few friends whom I'd already come out to who I expected to put me up for a while until I found something more permanent. Then, there was the fact that I was going to college the year after, so I was hoping that would work. If my mom didn't have my back, everybody else in my family would have gotten word of it and it probably would have been a mass disowning. As it is now, I haven't come out to my aunts or any of the older relatives.
Everything turning out great was entirely situational, which I think it took me a while to get used to. If I'd been born to, say, any of my other aunts, for example, I'd have been kicked out, definitely. Or something would have happened, like sending me down South to 'fix' me. For a while, though, I think I had this privileged attitude like "well, if you're not out, you're not worth my time"-- but that's so myopic and immature, I think I've realized. For example, if I knew my mother'd disown me, especially since she's all I have, I never would have even come out at all. Definitely not in school, either, especially since word would get back home at some point. And so I'd definitely be in my 20's or 30's before I eventually took the big step, once I was out of school and had my own stability.
Anyway, for a while, I think I just frowned upon the whole DL thing-- and I think I still do, to some extent. I can't help it-- lying's unfortunate, especially about your sexuality. When it's necessary, it's necessary; but when you're 38 and still 'in the closet', I have trouble accepting that. I mean, I can understand wanting to maintain connections to people who'd throw you out of their lives, if they'd known, but I don't know. I guess I'm simple, but if I'm so replaceable that you could stop talking to me over whom I sleep with and whom I don't, then I wouldn't be able to help coming to the conclusion that I never really meant much to you at all. Y'know? But it could just be me.
I think there's a snobbery that comes with coming out, at least for me, like we're doing the right thing and the liars and deceivers aren't. And, while that may be what I think, I should also try to be humble and remember that we're all just human. So the self-righteousness is probably unnecessary.
This was because of someone else recently finding out I'm gay, which really isn't much of a secret anyway. [S]he and I aren't friends anymore, I guess.
Which reminds me, something that I still haven't gotten over, and still should probably confront my cousins over, is them reading my Myspace, seeing the 'gay' for sexual orientation, and sending it through the entire family chain. That s*it was ridiculous, especially since they act as if it never happened, and we still act normally. I mean, now there's just this tension whenever dating comes up, and I really don't know why they thought that'd even be interesting to do. Especially since they weren't being malicious.
I try not to care about too much, I guess, just keep things simple. Be moral. Live my life, love as much as I can, be as honest as I can.
Definitely hard, though.
Monday, January 22, 2007
I wanna wade in the sonic joy.
Now that I'm sober, not half-asleep and I have a full belly, I think I can write something not completely vapid.
Oh, yeah, I was talking to someone the other day about how important vocabulary is, and how detrimental college has actually been to the amount of vocab I actually remember. The result is that I'm gonna put up a new word every entry that I didn't know the definition of off-hand.
Starting now.
Pusillanimous- poor-spirited, unmanly, lacking in courage and manly strength and resolution; contemptibly fearful
Wow, that's a mouthful. I'm pretty sure this is the first time I've ever encountered it.
Big vocabularies mean stronger writing...or so I used to believe in 10th grade.
Anyway, onto real things. This past Saturday, I had a pow-wow with some of my gal pals after going to some parties over pizza and vodka.[Well, if that's not gay man behavior, I don't know what is.]
The topic of the conversation was that while we may talk about relationship woes and stuff, I usually don't talk about my issues, at all. It's always them and their boyfriends, but as I said, I'm more of a listener, anyway. Well, that and I prefer to think they're not really equipped to handle my problems or will suggest solutions that don't really work for me. But that's also just because I'm weird.
So, they made me give a diatribe about my recent dating history, I guess, and I eventually wound up saying something to effect, "I'm tired of white guys" or something like that, or the gay community at large is a racist institution. And I think I took it for granted that they'd let it slide, but one of my friends made a joke about me not liking white people, which isn't really true it all. I'd like to think I was mainly venting, but I'm also just...tired of white guys.
I've only dated a few, but I think I've been with more white guys than Black or Latino, probably. I guess what I really meant in less offensive terms is that I'm tired of the white guys on the cover of Out/whatever other gay-themed magazines there are, who all seem to share interests in the same garbage. It's like, if I want to date someone in school, the pool is pretty much white-- and to encounter them, I'm going to have to dance to their bad Madonna remixes, or go to some dinner/play/whatever, or buy into some culture that I have nothing in common with. I just feel like I've had my fill, and I'm really uninterested.
For a while, I think I was partially under the impression that dating people from similar backgrounds as me[by which I mean, poor] would be backwards, that it'd be contrary to any sort of upward mobility that I was trying to get. And so I wound up selling myself on this glitter-and-Abercrombie lifestyle that really doesn't work for me at all.
Of course, I don't mean to characterize an entire race of people either, but I'm tired of being careful with my words. Words are weapons, man.
It's like, you've got the white guys who are looking for black guys[and that just grosses me out to hell and back], and then you've got the 'normal' ones, I guess, who range anywhere along the spectrum. And, for me anyway, to get with the normal ones usually meant aligning my interests with them and a trivialization of my own.
So, maybe you can blame a bad dating history.
I still don't think this is satisfactory, either, but maybe someone else will make the point with a much stronger argument and I'll just latch on.
Maybe we can say this was the entry about gayness? But it's about blackness, too.
Whatever. Maybe I'll just ditch the keyword thing.
"Inside out, upside down twisting besides myself."
By the way, the entry title and that quote are lyrics from some Imogen Heap songs-- I was on her album, "Speak for yourself" this entire summer. Definitely give her stuff a listen if you've got the time-- "Hide and Seek" not so much, I think.
Well, that's all I've got for now. Chao, kids.
Edit: I was still thinking about it.
I think the truth of the matter is that I don't necessarily have a negative interest in white males, it's more so that I've got a much greater interest in gay men of color.
It tends to come out as me getting annoyed with white guys, if only because I feel like that has to be an active thing, since that's all I'm confronted with. Maybe.
Sorry, I couldn't resist adding.
Oh, yeah, I was talking to someone the other day about how important vocabulary is, and how detrimental college has actually been to the amount of vocab I actually remember. The result is that I'm gonna put up a new word every entry that I didn't know the definition of off-hand.
Starting now.
Pusillanimous- poor-spirited, unmanly, lacking in courage and manly strength and resolution; contemptibly fearful
Wow, that's a mouthful. I'm pretty sure this is the first time I've ever encountered it.
Big vocabularies mean stronger writing...or so I used to believe in 10th grade.
Anyway, onto real things. This past Saturday, I had a pow-wow with some of my gal pals after going to some parties over pizza and vodka.[Well, if that's not gay man behavior, I don't know what is.]
The topic of the conversation was that while we may talk about relationship woes and stuff, I usually don't talk about my issues, at all. It's always them and their boyfriends, but as I said, I'm more of a listener, anyway. Well, that and I prefer to think they're not really equipped to handle my problems or will suggest solutions that don't really work for me. But that's also just because I'm weird.
So, they made me give a diatribe about my recent dating history, I guess, and I eventually wound up saying something to effect, "I'm tired of white guys" or something like that, or the gay community at large is a racist institution. And I think I took it for granted that they'd let it slide, but one of my friends made a joke about me not liking white people, which isn't really true it all. I'd like to think I was mainly venting, but I'm also just...tired of white guys.
I've only dated a few, but I think I've been with more white guys than Black or Latino, probably. I guess what I really meant in less offensive terms is that I'm tired of the white guys on the cover of Out/whatever other gay-themed magazines there are, who all seem to share interests in the same garbage. It's like, if I want to date someone in school, the pool is pretty much white-- and to encounter them, I'm going to have to dance to their bad Madonna remixes, or go to some dinner/play/whatever, or buy into some culture that I have nothing in common with. I just feel like I've had my fill, and I'm really uninterested.
For a while, I think I was partially under the impression that dating people from similar backgrounds as me[by which I mean, poor] would be backwards, that it'd be contrary to any sort of upward mobility that I was trying to get. And so I wound up selling myself on this glitter-and-Abercrombie lifestyle that really doesn't work for me at all.
Of course, I don't mean to characterize an entire race of people either, but I'm tired of being careful with my words. Words are weapons, man.
It's like, you've got the white guys who are looking for black guys[and that just grosses me out to hell and back], and then you've got the 'normal' ones, I guess, who range anywhere along the spectrum. And, for me anyway, to get with the normal ones usually meant aligning my interests with them and a trivialization of my own.
So, maybe you can blame a bad dating history.
I still don't think this is satisfactory, either, but maybe someone else will make the point with a much stronger argument and I'll just latch on.
Maybe we can say this was the entry about gayness? But it's about blackness, too.
Whatever. Maybe I'll just ditch the keyword thing.
"Inside out, upside down twisting besides myself."
By the way, the entry title and that quote are lyrics from some Imogen Heap songs-- I was on her album, "Speak for yourself" this entire summer. Definitely give her stuff a listen if you've got the time-- "Hide and Seek" not so much, I think.
Well, that's all I've got for now. Chao, kids.
Edit: I was still thinking about it.
I think the truth of the matter is that I don't necessarily have a negative interest in white males, it's more so that I've got a much greater interest in gay men of color.
It tends to come out as me getting annoyed with white guys, if only because I feel like that has to be an active thing, since that's all I'm confronted with. Maybe.
Sorry, I couldn't resist adding.
Meme machines.
I promised myself that I'd make a post since I've been neglecting to do so, but it's four in the morning and I really can't churn out any good material right now.
Plus, I'm really lazy.
So, I'll post a survey.[I won't do this often, cross my heart.] I just need to put something on here, it's a compulsion.
1. The phone rings. Who do you want it to be?
Jeremy, but I don't think he has my number.
2. When shopping at the grocery store, do you return your cart?
Yeah, I do, most of the time.
3. In a social setting, are you more of a talker or a listener?
With most of my friends, I'm the listener. Unless I'm being wacky.
4. Do you take compliments well?
It depends on who says it. I'd say no, I don't, in general.
5. Do you play Sudoku?
It bores me.
6. If abandoned alone in the wilderness, would you survive?
I doubt it.
7. Your fear?
Losing my values.
8. Did you ever go to camp as a kid?
I went to NJ SEEDS, which is better than camp.
9. What was your favorite game as a kid?
Monopoly, maybe. Or Life.
10. If a sexy person was pursuing you, but you knew he/she was married, would you?
I have previously. I hope nowadays I'm secure enough to say no.
12. Could you date someone with different religious beliefs than you?
Well, I doubt I'd do well with a diabolist. But otherwise, I think so.
13. Do you like to pursue or be pursued?
Hmm. I want to say pursue, but I also don't want to...purse someone I can't have.
14. Use three words to describe yourself?
passionate, proud, idealistic.
15. Do any songs make you cry?
Experiences make me cry, not songs.
16. Are you continuing your education?
Yeah. College student.
17. Do you know how to shoot a gun?
Nah, I don't.
18. If your house was on fire, what would be the first thing you grabbed?
My laptop. Took so much work to actually buy one-- I couldn't just let all that burn up.
19. How often do you read books?
Pretty often, though nowadays it's often for class. I read about five books over winter break, so that's a little more than a book a week, when I don't have class.
I'm reading The Selfish Gene right now, hence the title of this entry. It's really interesting, but it's for class, so it's thick.
20. Do you think more about the past, present or future?
The present the most.
21. What is your favorite children's book?
The Cat in the Hat. There was also this series I had that I can't remember.
22.What color are your eyes?
Brown.
23. How tall are you?
5'4.[Hence, olashorty.]
24. Where is your dream house located?
China? Japan?
I don't have a dream house.
25. What did you do last night?
Went out partying, got drunk, had a pow wow with some of the friends.
26. What are you doing tonight?
Tonight is over. If you mean Sunday night, I had dinner, watched anime, and read The Selfish Gene. Monday night I've got Blackout practice.
27. Have you ever taken pictures in a photo booth?
Yeah, a bunch of times.
28. When was the last time you were at Olive Garden?
Never.
30. Where was the furthest place you traveled today?
Downhill to grab dinner.
32. Do you like mustard?
Yeah.
33. Do you prefer to sleep or eat?
Eat.
I eat like no other.
34. Do you look like your mom or dad?
I've gotten conflicting opinions...but my mom says I resemble my father. Plus, she's light-skinned.
35. How long does it take you in the shower?
Probably like an hour if I've got the time.
36. Can you do splits?
Nah, but I'm working on it.
37. What movie do you want to see right now?
Tongues Untied. I just saw Paris is Burning, but Tongues Untied is supposed to be more relevant to current gay black culture.
39. What did you do for New Year's?
I went to sleep. =P
40. Do you think The Grudge was scary?
Didn't see it.
42. Do you own a camera phone?
No.
44. Was your mom a cheerleader?
No.
45. What's the last letter of your middle name?
L.[Kudos if you guess it.]
47. How many hours of sleep do you get a night?
I don't know, around six?
48. Do you like care bears?
I remember I recorded Power Rangers over my cousin's video of that show. So, no.
49. What do you buy at the movies?
Tickets? I'm certainly not buying the overpriced popcorn and hotdogs.
50. Do you know how to play poker?
Nope.
51.Do you wear your seatbelt?
Yeah. Car accidents are no joke.
52. What do you wear to sleep?
Basketball shorts and a t shirt, usually.
53. Anything big ever happen in your hometown?
Yeah. Some guy brought in anthrax into our mall over break, or something.
54. How many meals do you eat a day?
Usually 2, 'cause I have issues getting up for breakfast.
55. Is your tongue pierced?
No.
56. Do you always read MySpace bulletins?
nope
58. Do you like funny or serious people better?
Funny.
59. Ever been to L.A.?
Unfortunately no.
60. Did you eat a cookie today?
Nah.
61. Do you use cuss words in other languages?
I rarely use curse words in English, so...
62. Do you steal or pay for your music downloads?
Steal. Sorry.
63. Do you hate chocolate?
Nah, I don't.
64. What do you and your parents fight about the most?
The way I dress, specifically since I don't believe in wearing jackets.
65. Are you a gullible person?
To an extent.
I prefer to think I like to believe in people, heh.
66. Do you need a boyfriend/girlfriend to be happy?
Hell to the NAW.
67. If you could have any job (assuming you have the skills) what would it be?
The Pope.
No question.
68. Are you easy to get along with?
Yeah. I guess be a little high energy sometimes.
69. What is your favorite time of day?
Like, two in the afternoon.
That was an abrupt last question. And sorry, some of these questions are misnumbered.
Oh well. I'm out.
An actual entry soon.
Plus, I'm really lazy.
So, I'll post a survey.[I won't do this often, cross my heart.] I just need to put something on here, it's a compulsion.
1. The phone rings. Who do you want it to be?
Jeremy, but I don't think he has my number.
2. When shopping at the grocery store, do you return your cart?
Yeah, I do, most of the time.
3. In a social setting, are you more of a talker or a listener?
With most of my friends, I'm the listener. Unless I'm being wacky.
4. Do you take compliments well?
It depends on who says it. I'd say no, I don't, in general.
5. Do you play Sudoku?
It bores me.
6. If abandoned alone in the wilderness, would you survive?
I doubt it.
7. Your fear?
Losing my values.
8. Did you ever go to camp as a kid?
I went to NJ SEEDS, which is better than camp.
9. What was your favorite game as a kid?
Monopoly, maybe. Or Life.
10. If a sexy person was pursuing you, but you knew he/she was married, would you?
I have previously. I hope nowadays I'm secure enough to say no.
12. Could you date someone with different religious beliefs than you?
Well, I doubt I'd do well with a diabolist. But otherwise, I think so.
13. Do you like to pursue or be pursued?
Hmm. I want to say pursue, but I also don't want to...purse someone I can't have.
14. Use three words to describe yourself?
passionate, proud, idealistic.
15. Do any songs make you cry?
Experiences make me cry, not songs.
16. Are you continuing your education?
Yeah. College student.
17. Do you know how to shoot a gun?
Nah, I don't.
18. If your house was on fire, what would be the first thing you grabbed?
My laptop. Took so much work to actually buy one-- I couldn't just let all that burn up.
19. How often do you read books?
Pretty often, though nowadays it's often for class. I read about five books over winter break, so that's a little more than a book a week, when I don't have class.
I'm reading The Selfish Gene right now, hence the title of this entry. It's really interesting, but it's for class, so it's thick.
20. Do you think more about the past, present or future?
The present the most.
21. What is your favorite children's book?
The Cat in the Hat. There was also this series I had that I can't remember.
22.What color are your eyes?
Brown.
23. How tall are you?
5'4.[Hence, olashorty.]
24. Where is your dream house located?
China? Japan?
I don't have a dream house.
25. What did you do last night?
Went out partying, got drunk, had a pow wow with some of the friends.
26. What are you doing tonight?
Tonight is over. If you mean Sunday night, I had dinner, watched anime, and read The Selfish Gene. Monday night I've got Blackout practice.
27. Have you ever taken pictures in a photo booth?
Yeah, a bunch of times.
28. When was the last time you were at Olive Garden?
Never.
30. Where was the furthest place you traveled today?
Downhill to grab dinner.
32. Do you like mustard?
Yeah.
33. Do you prefer to sleep or eat?
Eat.
I eat like no other.
34. Do you look like your mom or dad?
I've gotten conflicting opinions...but my mom says I resemble my father. Plus, she's light-skinned.
35. How long does it take you in the shower?
Probably like an hour if I've got the time.
36. Can you do splits?
Nah, but I'm working on it.
37. What movie do you want to see right now?
Tongues Untied. I just saw Paris is Burning, but Tongues Untied is supposed to be more relevant to current gay black culture.
39. What did you do for New Year's?
I went to sleep. =P
40. Do you think The Grudge was scary?
Didn't see it.
42. Do you own a camera phone?
No.
44. Was your mom a cheerleader?
No.
45. What's the last letter of your middle name?
L.[Kudos if you guess it.]
47. How many hours of sleep do you get a night?
I don't know, around six?
48. Do you like care bears?
I remember I recorded Power Rangers over my cousin's video of that show. So, no.
49. What do you buy at the movies?
Tickets? I'm certainly not buying the overpriced popcorn and hotdogs.
50. Do you know how to play poker?
Nope.
51.Do you wear your seatbelt?
Yeah. Car accidents are no joke.
52. What do you wear to sleep?
Basketball shorts and a t shirt, usually.
53. Anything big ever happen in your hometown?
Yeah. Some guy brought in anthrax into our mall over break, or something.
54. How many meals do you eat a day?
Usually 2, 'cause I have issues getting up for breakfast.
55. Is your tongue pierced?
No.
56. Do you always read MySpace bulletins?
nope
58. Do you like funny or serious people better?
Funny.
59. Ever been to L.A.?
Unfortunately no.
60. Did you eat a cookie today?
Nah.
61. Do you use cuss words in other languages?
I rarely use curse words in English, so...
62. Do you steal or pay for your music downloads?
Steal. Sorry.
63. Do you hate chocolate?
Nah, I don't.
64. What do you and your parents fight about the most?
The way I dress, specifically since I don't believe in wearing jackets.
65. Are you a gullible person?
To an extent.
I prefer to think I like to believe in people, heh.
66. Do you need a boyfriend/girlfriend to be happy?
Hell to the NAW.
67. If you could have any job (assuming you have the skills) what would it be?
The Pope.
No question.
68. Are you easy to get along with?
Yeah. I guess be a little high energy sometimes.
69. What is your favorite time of day?
Like, two in the afternoon.
That was an abrupt last question. And sorry, some of these questions are misnumbered.
Oh well. I'm out.
An actual entry soon.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Lords and ladies of the ball court.
Geez, Boston is cold, and so are all of its surrounding towns.
I moved back into school today. I mentioned I go to Tufts University in a previous entry-- Tufts isn't actually in Boston, it's in Medford/Somerville. Pretty aiight place, I guess.
Anyway, I really hate jackets-- back home in Jersey, I'd just walk around in hoodies and pray I didn't get sick. But, it's as if up here that won't even fly for a second-- I had on some thick stuff and man. Was I cold.
But yeah, go Tufts. Go Beantown.
Anyway, I should probably talk about stepping this time around.
It's funny, because even before I knew how to step, I knew what it was, at least-- granted, I'm urban/black and come from a semi-predictable upbringing, so I guess it being known to me shouldn't be peculiar. I guess I just assumed most Americans, especially those from like...semi-urban areas, would know what it was? But even here in school, I've had to explain to people what it was, and man. It just seemed weird to me at first.
I know a lot of females-- my family situation is really matriarchal, which I'll have to get to at another time. Even in grammar school, most of my friends were female, and it seemed like they all knew these little kiddy steps. And I picked 'em up and we played double dutch and other girly stuff, or whatever.
I guess that's really it for my step 'history'-- I knew what it was, and I knew like two little beats. But, when I came to Tufts as a prospective freshman in my senior year of high school, we had the Telescope program. I think nowadays it's changed in order to include white people, but when I went, it was geared towards minorities, and most of us were Black and/or Latino, I think. Telescope was like two or three days, and there was this big showcase of all of the minority performance groups on campus. It was pretty amazing. There was Turbo, the breakdancing group, Bhangra, the...Bhangra group, and blah blah. And of course there was Blackout-- actually, one of my hosts for Telescope was one of the captains at the time, and I remember being really impressed. I just remember them all being fit, or tall, or fit and tall[and all black, at the time] and it blew me away. Honestly, Blackout always tries to put on a serious show for Telescope to get the freshmen interested, with like long twenty-minute shows and stuff. So, the long strings of steps, the energy, and the outfits-- they were all dressed in like..SWAT gear; it was tough-- really got my attention. And then I saw them practicing and they looked so serious and stuff. I really didn't think I'd get on-- I think my main hangup was how much shorter I am than everyone else. Especially since they seemed to be about volume and energy, I really didn't think I'd get in.
This was my experience as a high school senior, and pretty much what sold me on Tufts. I mean, at the time, I was pretty sure I was gonna major in Philosophy[which is still..sorta true, I guess], and colleges can't really go wrong with Philosophy, can they? Come on. I didn't really take my college process too seriously-- I just went by how I felt about the campus and my visiting experience.
After I got my acceptance/rejection letters and eventually decided to come to Tufts, one of the first things on my mind was to look out for Blackout tryouts.
I really don't feel like telling the tryout story-- bottomline, I'm really competitive when I want something, but I also get pretty nervous, so it was definitely a battle. But I got on[Yay!], and oh man, that first week sucked. I got to my first practice like an hour late, so I had to catch up to the other new guys. And then I had this bizarre bout of paranoia wherein I thought I was getting kicked off[I SWEAR I heard them say my name] the team, but that turned out to be false. Eventually, I got into the swing of things, I think.
And now, it's a lot of fun.
Nah, I just like stepping-- it's active, and it's on a stage. And I love stages. And I really love stepping. So, there you go.
I was actually trying to make up a step over Winter Break, but I always wind up reusing beats. Once I get it down, though, maybe I'll video it and upload it to youtube.
It's actually one of the biggest reasons I'm excited to be back at Tufts-- I think we have a competition at Cornell coming up, too, and Cornell's really good. I also just miss practice; I feel like I haven't learned anything new for the past two months. Most of the learning went on last year; now that I'm an 'old guy', it's mainly review and remembering stuff.
There's this feeling when I get on stage-- I really do love stages[I used to do acting, and I really miss it, actually]. It's funny, because I'll be nervous as hell right until the show starts. But once it starts, I don't have the time to think about anything else-- it's just precision, energy, angles, keeping up, not speeding up. And more energy and precision. And there's really no feeling like just finishing a show, I think.
Oh man, I'm excited. Especially since some of my closest friends here joined the female step team, Envy, this semester. Sometimes we have performances in the same shows and I get to cheer them on-- for free, which is the best thing-- and vice versa. It's just great now that we all share an interest and whatnot.
Once again, I'm excited. Go Tufts!
[Except that I have class tomorrow. ARGH.]
I moved back into school today. I mentioned I go to Tufts University in a previous entry-- Tufts isn't actually in Boston, it's in Medford/Somerville. Pretty aiight place, I guess.
Anyway, I really hate jackets-- back home in Jersey, I'd just walk around in hoodies and pray I didn't get sick. But, it's as if up here that won't even fly for a second-- I had on some thick stuff and man. Was I cold.
But yeah, go Tufts. Go Beantown.
Anyway, I should probably talk about stepping this time around.
It's funny, because even before I knew how to step, I knew what it was, at least-- granted, I'm urban/black and come from a semi-predictable upbringing, so I guess it being known to me shouldn't be peculiar. I guess I just assumed most Americans, especially those from like...semi-urban areas, would know what it was? But even here in school, I've had to explain to people what it was, and man. It just seemed weird to me at first.
I know a lot of females-- my family situation is really matriarchal, which I'll have to get to at another time. Even in grammar school, most of my friends were female, and it seemed like they all knew these little kiddy steps. And I picked 'em up and we played double dutch and other girly stuff, or whatever.
I guess that's really it for my step 'history'-- I knew what it was, and I knew like two little beats. But, when I came to Tufts as a prospective freshman in my senior year of high school, we had the Telescope program. I think nowadays it's changed in order to include white people, but when I went, it was geared towards minorities, and most of us were Black and/or Latino, I think. Telescope was like two or three days, and there was this big showcase of all of the minority performance groups on campus. It was pretty amazing. There was Turbo, the breakdancing group, Bhangra, the...Bhangra group, and blah blah. And of course there was Blackout-- actually, one of my hosts for Telescope was one of the captains at the time, and I remember being really impressed. I just remember them all being fit, or tall, or fit and tall[and all black, at the time] and it blew me away. Honestly, Blackout always tries to put on a serious show for Telescope to get the freshmen interested, with like long twenty-minute shows and stuff. So, the long strings of steps, the energy, and the outfits-- they were all dressed in like..SWAT gear; it was tough-- really got my attention. And then I saw them practicing and they looked so serious and stuff. I really didn't think I'd get on-- I think my main hangup was how much shorter I am than everyone else. Especially since they seemed to be about volume and energy, I really didn't think I'd get in.
This was my experience as a high school senior, and pretty much what sold me on Tufts. I mean, at the time, I was pretty sure I was gonna major in Philosophy[which is still..sorta true, I guess], and colleges can't really go wrong with Philosophy, can they? Come on. I didn't really take my college process too seriously-- I just went by how I felt about the campus and my visiting experience.
After I got my acceptance/rejection letters and eventually decided to come to Tufts, one of the first things on my mind was to look out for Blackout tryouts.
I really don't feel like telling the tryout story-- bottomline, I'm really competitive when I want something, but I also get pretty nervous, so it was definitely a battle. But I got on[Yay!], and oh man, that first week sucked. I got to my first practice like an hour late, so I had to catch up to the other new guys. And then I had this bizarre bout of paranoia wherein I thought I was getting kicked off[I SWEAR I heard them say my name] the team, but that turned out to be false. Eventually, I got into the swing of things, I think.
And now, it's a lot of fun.
Nah, I just like stepping-- it's active, and it's on a stage. And I love stages. And I really love stepping. So, there you go.
I was actually trying to make up a step over Winter Break, but I always wind up reusing beats. Once I get it down, though, maybe I'll video it and upload it to youtube.
It's actually one of the biggest reasons I'm excited to be back at Tufts-- I think we have a competition at Cornell coming up, too, and Cornell's really good. I also just miss practice; I feel like I haven't learned anything new for the past two months. Most of the learning went on last year; now that I'm an 'old guy', it's mainly review and remembering stuff.
There's this feeling when I get on stage-- I really do love stages[I used to do acting, and I really miss it, actually]. It's funny, because I'll be nervous as hell right until the show starts. But once it starts, I don't have the time to think about anything else-- it's just precision, energy, angles, keeping up, not speeding up. And more energy and precision. And there's really no feeling like just finishing a show, I think.
Oh man, I'm excited. Especially since some of my closest friends here joined the female step team, Envy, this semester. Sometimes we have performances in the same shows and I get to cheer them on-- for free, which is the best thing-- and vice versa. It's just great now that we all share an interest and whatnot.
Once again, I'm excited. Go Tufts!
[Except that I have class tomorrow. ARGH.]
Monday, January 15, 2007
Knocking down language barriers.
So, I wanted to keep my promise on these next entries being related to the identity keywords I put down in my first entry. This'll be about language.
I'm Black-Honduran, emphasis on Black. My father's a native speaker, so he speaks fluent Spanish. But, we don't have a good relationship, and he left pretty early. So, I got no Spanish at home. That said, my elementary school didn't have language courses either, so my first thirteen to fourteen years were spent without any multilingual ability.
My neighborhood has been becoming more and more Latino since the seventies, according to my mother. It's to the point that by the time I was born, I'd say at least 65% of the residents spoke Spanish. A similar percentage of my friends were also Latino. Anyway, I liked all of my friends-- we'd play baseball at the vacant lot across the street and ride our bikes and play Nintendo and sneak into abandoned buildings. Y'know, normal kid stuff. But, what definitely marred my friendships was that they would start having conversations in Spanish as soon as a big enough group of Spanish-speakers got around. Maybe excluding me wasn't the direct goal, but it was a necessary by-product. It really bothered me-- that they were laughing and having fun in a language I didn't understand. What if they were laughing at me? And, why are they speaking in Spanish anyway, when we all speak English? Etc.
I don't think it characterizes all Black-Latino friendships, but it definitely was a problem for me. So, when I started high school, my first goal was to start learning Spanish. And I did that for four years-- my Spanish is good for school Spanish, I guess. I don't really practice anymore, since I don't take Spanish in college, but every now and then I'll read some Google News Colombia/Cuba, or I'll take out a Spanish book, just to remember words.
I can't really explain why I started Japanese. I think I was being a little dramatic when I was describing my decision to learn Spanish-- it's also just the most common choice made, generally. Also, the other choices were French and Latin-- both of which I had no interest in-- so Spanish was the logical thing to do. But I didn't actually like my Spanish learning experience very much. Freshman year Spanish was fun, if only because the material was relatively easy, but once I moved into a higher class the following year, I started to dislike the class. There was too much work; my teacher was very critical, and I made really simple mistakes all of the time. The feelings just grew stronger my junior and senior year. I think what really intensified everything was my frustration over having so little choice over what to learn-- Spanish class was annoying, and you needed three years of a single language to graduate. So, there'd have been no way to switch into French or Latin, even if I had wanted to.
My sophomore year, though, some kids from Okayama Hakuryo, a high school in Japan, came to my school in a student exchange program. I really thought they were magical beings, like unicorns. I remember having my first conversation with Kohei, who was in some classes with me, and thinking he was just really amazing and funny. Suddenly, I wanted to go to Japan. And to go to Japan, you obviously need to speak Japanese. Honestly, I'm really bad with details, so everything just blurs together. I was a big Dragon Ball Z fan beforehand, so I wouldn't say my interest in anime/manga came as a consequence. But, after they left, I came to the conclusion that the only way to speak Japanese would be to completely Japan-itize my life. No more American music, no more American television. It was Jpop and Jrock all of the time, anime, manga, etc. That lasted at least until my senior year, when I discovered Simple Life.
Anyway, I eventually did manage to go to Japan in my sophomore year of high school, though there was a lot of red tape and funding problems. Essentially, I had to beg a lot of people to buy my plane/train tickets, but 'I can charm the rattle off a rattlesnake.' Being there was definitely one of the best times of my life-- everything was so new to me, and while there's a definite ignorance[black boy in Japan, what?], I really enjoyed everything. Brought a lot of stuff back. And, if anything, it just made me work harder at my Japanese.
Wow, this is a thick entry.
Flash forward to now, and I'm a college sophomore taking Chinese and Japanese. Chinese is and was a complete accident-- I was trying to be ambitious when I was picking classes in my first semester, freshman year. Something about "Intensive Elementary Chinese 1-2" just seemed...really intense, y'know? So, along with Japanese 1 class[since I'd had no formal exposure to Japanese, the department head thought it would be best to start from scratch and pick up basics properly], I did Chinese. Oh man, that class was annoying-- I thought coming from high school, where classes were pretty much every day anyway, there wouldn't be a major difference between taking classes five times a week in high school and six times a week in college. Big mistake. The pace was completely different-- we were apparently learning one year of Chinese in one semester. So, double the pace of a normal Chinese class, which is hard enough as it is. Anyway, I did another intensive Chinese class the following semester, so now that I'm going into my second semester, I can talk about stuff like the Monica Lewinsky scandal and environmental protection in Chinese.[or, supposed to be able to, anyway] Like, what? I can't even talk about that in English.
So, definitely not doing Chinese next semester, as it's only going to get harder. I still want to learn Chinese and all, if only because I've come so far, but I don't think a classroom setting is right for me. Just like with Spanish.
Japanese, though, is a blast. Man, I could do Japanese eight times a day, seven days a week, and I'd still enjoy myself. Maybe. Point is, three times a week is fine and dandy.
And, that is the medium-long version of my Spanish/Japanese/Chinese experience. Overall, I think my paranoia as a child led me to really like languages, or at least breaking down language barriers. Nowadays, I just really like communication and linguistics, which is where my philosophical interest comes in, I guess.
I'd like to master as many languages as possible, German being next hopefully, or Arabic. Or Hindi. Or Hausa.
So many languages, so little time.
I'm Black-Honduran, emphasis on Black. My father's a native speaker, so he speaks fluent Spanish. But, we don't have a good relationship, and he left pretty early. So, I got no Spanish at home. That said, my elementary school didn't have language courses either, so my first thirteen to fourteen years were spent without any multilingual ability.
My neighborhood has been becoming more and more Latino since the seventies, according to my mother. It's to the point that by the time I was born, I'd say at least 65% of the residents spoke Spanish. A similar percentage of my friends were also Latino. Anyway, I liked all of my friends-- we'd play baseball at the vacant lot across the street and ride our bikes and play Nintendo and sneak into abandoned buildings. Y'know, normal kid stuff. But, what definitely marred my friendships was that they would start having conversations in Spanish as soon as a big enough group of Spanish-speakers got around. Maybe excluding me wasn't the direct goal, but it was a necessary by-product. It really bothered me-- that they were laughing and having fun in a language I didn't understand. What if they were laughing at me? And, why are they speaking in Spanish anyway, when we all speak English? Etc.
I don't think it characterizes all Black-Latino friendships, but it definitely was a problem for me. So, when I started high school, my first goal was to start learning Spanish. And I did that for four years-- my Spanish is good for school Spanish, I guess. I don't really practice anymore, since I don't take Spanish in college, but every now and then I'll read some Google News Colombia/Cuba, or I'll take out a Spanish book, just to remember words.
I can't really explain why I started Japanese. I think I was being a little dramatic when I was describing my decision to learn Spanish-- it's also just the most common choice made, generally. Also, the other choices were French and Latin-- both of which I had no interest in-- so Spanish was the logical thing to do. But I didn't actually like my Spanish learning experience very much. Freshman year Spanish was fun, if only because the material was relatively easy, but once I moved into a higher class the following year, I started to dislike the class. There was too much work; my teacher was very critical, and I made really simple mistakes all of the time. The feelings just grew stronger my junior and senior year. I think what really intensified everything was my frustration over having so little choice over what to learn-- Spanish class was annoying, and you needed three years of a single language to graduate. So, there'd have been no way to switch into French or Latin, even if I had wanted to.
My sophomore year, though, some kids from Okayama Hakuryo, a high school in Japan, came to my school in a student exchange program. I really thought they were magical beings, like unicorns. I remember having my first conversation with Kohei, who was in some classes with me, and thinking he was just really amazing and funny. Suddenly, I wanted to go to Japan. And to go to Japan, you obviously need to speak Japanese. Honestly, I'm really bad with details, so everything just blurs together. I was a big Dragon Ball Z fan beforehand, so I wouldn't say my interest in anime/manga came as a consequence. But, after they left, I came to the conclusion that the only way to speak Japanese would be to completely Japan-itize my life. No more American music, no more American television. It was Jpop and Jrock all of the time, anime, manga, etc. That lasted at least until my senior year, when I discovered Simple Life.
Anyway, I eventually did manage to go to Japan in my sophomore year of high school, though there was a lot of red tape and funding problems. Essentially, I had to beg a lot of people to buy my plane/train tickets, but 'I can charm the rattle off a rattlesnake.' Being there was definitely one of the best times of my life-- everything was so new to me, and while there's a definite ignorance[black boy in Japan, what?], I really enjoyed everything. Brought a lot of stuff back. And, if anything, it just made me work harder at my Japanese.
Wow, this is a thick entry.
Flash forward to now, and I'm a college sophomore taking Chinese and Japanese. Chinese is and was a complete accident-- I was trying to be ambitious when I was picking classes in my first semester, freshman year. Something about "Intensive Elementary Chinese 1-2" just seemed...really intense, y'know? So, along with Japanese 1 class[since I'd had no formal exposure to Japanese, the department head thought it would be best to start from scratch and pick up basics properly], I did Chinese. Oh man, that class was annoying-- I thought coming from high school, where classes were pretty much every day anyway, there wouldn't be a major difference between taking classes five times a week in high school and six times a week in college. Big mistake. The pace was completely different-- we were apparently learning one year of Chinese in one semester. So, double the pace of a normal Chinese class, which is hard enough as it is. Anyway, I did another intensive Chinese class the following semester, so now that I'm going into my second semester, I can talk about stuff like the Monica Lewinsky scandal and environmental protection in Chinese.[or, supposed to be able to, anyway] Like, what? I can't even talk about that in English.
So, definitely not doing Chinese next semester, as it's only going to get harder. I still want to learn Chinese and all, if only because I've come so far, but I don't think a classroom setting is right for me. Just like with Spanish.
Japanese, though, is a blast. Man, I could do Japanese eight times a day, seven days a week, and I'd still enjoy myself. Maybe. Point is, three times a week is fine and dandy.
And, that is the medium-long version of my Spanish/Japanese/Chinese experience. Overall, I think my paranoia as a child led me to really like languages, or at least breaking down language barriers. Nowadays, I just really like communication and linguistics, which is where my philosophical interest comes in, I guess.
I'd like to master as many languages as possible, German being next hopefully, or Arabic. Or Hindi. Or Hausa.
So many languages, so little time.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
What does 'olashorty' mean, anyway? Also, Stomp the Yard.
It occurred to me that the username may seem arbitrary.
When I was little, the superintendent had an assistant, whose name I can't remember at the moment. Phil? Probably not.
Anyway, he was Honduran, and he was cool, and this is back when I knew very little about my father and whatnot. One day, we were talking about my background for some reason[which was unknown to me, on papa's side], and he guessed that I was Honduran, like him. And he was right, as I found out years later-- my father is/was Honduran.
Other than that, he was just a really cool guy. And whenever he saw me, he'd say, 'hola, shorty'. I think I'd laugh or something in response-- I was/am this really goofy kid and I laugh[ed] a lot. So, flash forward some years when I was in 8th grade, after getting my first computer[go Sears raffles!]. I got an internet connection with AOL a bit later, and when it came to making up a username, holashorty was taken.[And, still is taken to this day; IF YOU ARE READING THIS, 'holashorty', I WANT THAT USERNAME.] So, I took olashorty instead.
Pretty much everything I use is olashorty, default.[except my AIM, ironically]
Just in case you were curious.
So, as a bit of daily juice, I saw Stomp the Yard. It was really good, definitely liked it. I knew Chris Brown was gonna die beforehand because someone told me, but damn. He lasted like, what, fifteen minutes? And then, he only had one or two flashbacks. Still, he was cute for all fifteen minutes.
I mean, it was a little too much breakdance for my liking, and some of the girls were kinda freakish. Nice abs, though. I assumed it'd be more step, not that it wasn't, but the breakdancing was definitely...there.
So, a few things I learned from this movie.
1. the lead actor, whatever the hell his name is? hot. I think I may have a new idol; watch out, Jensen Atwood.
2. I definitely need to up the ante on the whole healthy foods and workout program.
3. Get...more hyped before our performances.
Oh, right, I'm on the step team at Tufts U., Blackout. There're some videos on youtube. Anyway, if anything, I guess I'm just not all about this 'brotherhood' stuff all the time, but I don't know why. Maybe I'll work on it.
I think I also decided that I'm gonna make an entry for each of my identity keywords that I put out in my first post. That oughta get some content on here.
"It's OVAH."
When I was little, the superintendent had an assistant, whose name I can't remember at the moment. Phil? Probably not.
Anyway, he was Honduran, and he was cool, and this is back when I knew very little about my father and whatnot. One day, we were talking about my background for some reason[which was unknown to me, on papa's side], and he guessed that I was Honduran, like him. And he was right, as I found out years later-- my father is/was Honduran.
Other than that, he was just a really cool guy. And whenever he saw me, he'd say, 'hola, shorty'. I think I'd laugh or something in response-- I was/am this really goofy kid and I laugh[ed] a lot. So, flash forward some years when I was in 8th grade, after getting my first computer[go Sears raffles!]. I got an internet connection with AOL a bit later, and when it came to making up a username, holashorty was taken.[And, still is taken to this day; IF YOU ARE READING THIS, 'holashorty', I WANT THAT USERNAME.] So, I took olashorty instead.
Pretty much everything I use is olashorty, default.[except my AIM, ironically]
Just in case you were curious.
So, as a bit of daily juice, I saw Stomp the Yard. It was really good, definitely liked it. I knew Chris Brown was gonna die beforehand because someone told me, but damn. He lasted like, what, fifteen minutes? And then, he only had one or two flashbacks. Still, he was cute for all fifteen minutes.
I mean, it was a little too much breakdance for my liking, and some of the girls were kinda freakish. Nice abs, though. I assumed it'd be more step, not that it wasn't, but the breakdancing was definitely...there.
So, a few things I learned from this movie.
1. the lead actor, whatever the hell his name is? hot. I think I may have a new idol; watch out, Jensen Atwood.
2. I definitely need to up the ante on the whole healthy foods and workout program.
3. Get...more hyped before our performances.
Oh, right, I'm on the step team at Tufts U., Blackout. There're some videos on youtube. Anyway, if anything, I guess I'm just not all about this 'brotherhood' stuff all the time, but I don't know why. Maybe I'll work on it.
I think I also decided that I'm gonna make an entry for each of my identity keywords that I put out in my first post. That oughta get some content on here.
"It's OVAH."
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Habit on her head.
Yeah, I went to Catholic school.
I've been working on this poem for a while now. SO EXCITED.
I don't really think I'm prone to writer's block, or at least my writing periods seem to last a long time. And I like to think that when I put myself down to a pad and paper[or, a keypad, as the case actually is], I get shit done.
Anyway, the primary problems have been and always will be laziness and being easily distracted. The first faults I'll mention on this blog, and the ones that'll crop up pretty often in some way or another.[I also don't like proofreading, but that'll become evident pretty soon, if not already] Rather than sitting down as I should and tapping into what I want to say, I've just been letting this mess fester. And now it's January 13th and I don't remember what I wanted to say in the first place.
I usually try not to write like this. It's usually a two day window, three days tops.
Well, if that's not the longest prelude ever, here it is:
Citrus Sirius Genesis.
[A certain Burroughs laughed at me
when I told him I'd given up on him halfway
between windstorms in the Village
and acid trips in Brooklyn. He
put his hand on my shoulds,
my should nots, and my shoulders-- sketching
his way along the grooves in my
mahogany musculature.
"I see polgyons and tangerines,
and I can smell the citrus stains from your
inner right thigh. I've never really believed in
eyes speaking to me,
in grand gestures from the great beyond,
but your legs have walked a forgotten path of
stretched condoms and grapefruit,
and both of them are
behind you
now."
I was ashamed to say I had not
read a novel in days, that if I were God,
this world would still be but a mere conception
and there would have been no genesis,
no fall from grace.]
I.
Baldwin always said my life would not
complete itself
unless I went to Paris.
That this city on a river was the gay black paradise,
that the small, insignificant man with whom I identify,
whose many interactions and groups I claim as my own,
had made a leviathan against my consent.
I instead longed for bus rides along the
coasts.
The mixture of hot sauce and
Burberry cologne, the quick appraisals
the "are you downe?"
"are you?"s,
the violence against this
small, insignificant man with whom I
identify.
The razor bumps on your left cheek,
the callouses on the reverse sides of your knuckles,
licking rough lips and pushing knobby knees between my thighs--
oh, the anger. oh,
the gluttony.
I have to have you to myself.
II.
To be continued.
---
To compare, here's something I wrote three years ago? Or something.
Dreadlock Anthem
From bounce to
bed
to cock-blocked.
From Ella Fitzgerald to Ashaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanti,
YOU SHALL HEAR ME.
KISS ME.
OBEY ME
and this nigger nap curling iron curtain [shall fall.]
"These are the end times, and
Revelation Chapter
(3,
2,
1,
4)
FIVE is predicting a golden rapture."
----------------------------------------
Well, certainly one difference is less caps lock.
I've been working on this poem for a while now. SO EXCITED.
I don't really think I'm prone to writer's block, or at least my writing periods seem to last a long time. And I like to think that when I put myself down to a pad and paper[or, a keypad, as the case actually is], I get shit done.
Anyway, the primary problems have been and always will be laziness and being easily distracted. The first faults I'll mention on this blog, and the ones that'll crop up pretty often in some way or another.[I also don't like proofreading, but that'll become evident pretty soon, if not already] Rather than sitting down as I should and tapping into what I want to say, I've just been letting this mess fester. And now it's January 13th and I don't remember what I wanted to say in the first place.
I usually try not to write like this. It's usually a two day window, three days tops.
Well, if that's not the longest prelude ever, here it is:
Citrus Sirius Genesis.
[A certain Burroughs laughed at me
when I told him I'd given up on him halfway
between windstorms in the Village
and acid trips in Brooklyn. He
put his hand on my shoulds,
my should nots, and my shoulders-- sketching
his way along the grooves in my
mahogany musculature.
"I see polgyons and tangerines,
and I can smell the citrus stains from your
inner right thigh. I've never really believed in
eyes speaking to me,
in grand gestures from the great beyond,
but your legs have walked a forgotten path of
stretched condoms and grapefruit,
and both of them are
behind you
now."
I was ashamed to say I had not
read a novel in days, that if I were God,
this world would still be but a mere conception
and there would have been no genesis,
no fall from grace.]
I.
Baldwin always said my life would not
complete itself
unless I went to Paris.
That this city on a river was the gay black paradise,
that the small, insignificant man with whom I identify,
whose many interactions and groups I claim as my own,
had made a leviathan against my consent.
I instead longed for bus rides along the
coasts.
The mixture of hot sauce and
Burberry cologne, the quick appraisals
the "are you downe?"
"are you?"s,
the violence against this
small, insignificant man with whom I
identify.
The razor bumps on your left cheek,
the callouses on the reverse sides of your knuckles,
licking rough lips and pushing knobby knees between my thighs--
oh, the anger. oh,
the gluttony.
I have to have you to myself.
II.
To be continued.
---
To compare, here's something I wrote three years ago? Or something.
Dreadlock Anthem
From bounce to
bed
to cock-blocked.
From Ella Fitzgerald to Ashaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanti,
YOU SHALL HEAR ME.
KISS ME.
OBEY ME
and this nigger nap curling iron curtain [shall fall.]
"These are the end times, and
Revelation Chapter
(3,
2,
1,
4)
FIVE is predicting a golden rapture."
----------------------------------------
"Dreadlocks are actually
prison talk
For DREADFUL SHIT.
Wrapped and folded like marijuana.
Closer to the cranium, to heighten the feeling of
absolute terrorist, born and raised. You're a walking
fender-bender waiting to happen.
Rosie the Riveter has told me
all about your type
in mangled messages on the back of my milk
carton.
You're one of those poster children
for
Communist self-destruction, to rape the welfare
system and breed Boykin-fought
down-low homosexuality in your ratty projects.
I can read you like a tarot card."
Moses split the
Red Sea
that was your mouth. Tides of
plump meat
tore themselves from each other as if
you hadn't talked in decades.
And
you smiled your Rembrandt-Moaning Lisa smile,
barely salivating over your own skin.
Plymouth Rock was dancing in your eyes,
and that papyrus skin of yours was harlem-
shaking and heel-toeing all
over your face.
God's supposed to be in the details,
but his summer beach house is in
your cheekbones. Explains why
you're so beautiful. Nambia's
too deep in your femur, and it made me
wonder why He didn't choose a sleek Swede instead,
to bear his temporary heaven.
Then again, why didn't he choose a
virgin male
to give birth to Christ? Surely that would have been more
miraculous. God
works in mysterious ways.
But maybe the Africans were
God's chosen people,
and maybe the continent is really God's
eternal footprint in the waves,
a sign of actual guidance.
A sign of actual guidance.
Right.
"Tori Amos probably hates you.
Bastardizing Egypt
& more with your
Art History, when you haven't even
listened to Jimi Hendrix yet."
How deliciously you to say so.
I scrubbed my face with my cellphone
to show my elation.
I will not pretend that he does not know cellulite,
but he carries it so well that
fat becomes pride, replicates muscle,
heightens his sexuality, enlightens everyone of his thighs,
of his plump cheeks.[All four.] And I cannot pretend
that I do not love
every Sub-Saharan minute of it all.
I am afraid he is
on a different planet from
me. No
one from Venus can smile with
so many canines all at once. [save maybe
Avril Lavigne?]
And make a tongue look so
brutally hungry.
I bite my lips
EIGHT TIMES[JEHOVAH plus Buddha
equals an Atman totally
holier than thou, honey].
And I leave fossil remains of
this forgotten corn-bred boy on this land
in dried sweat and
passed wind. I killed my ears,
but they pulled a JESUS.
A Taking Back Sunday at eighty
trillion
decibels was not enough
to keep them disco-dead.
For me. For America. For your deliciously anachronistic
dreadlocks.
And that is why I cannot ignore your unveiled panther of
a baritone
as it stalks its way to my eardrum, saying:
"Walaikum us Salaam. Or, shall I say, Wa Alaikum,
you broken brother. Ishmael denies you
of your African soul.
Return to Abraham, and the broken covenant,
baby."
---
Well, certainly one difference is less caps lock.
There's a robbery going on.
Hey.
I was trying to think of how this blog is going to be different from my livejournal, but I could not come up with a sufficient answer. I know the shortest answer is usually the best one, and the shortest thing seems to be that this blog isn't going to be nearly as whiny. But my lj wasn't that whiny either, recently anyway, so...
Rather than saying what this blog will and won't be, I guess I'll just sketch out a few tagwords for my identities and go from there.
Catholic. Black. Poor. Gay. Student. Short. Urban. Independent. Issue-conscious-but-a-bad-activist. Stepper. Language-lover.
In that order.
"Que chevere ser el juggernaut."
I was trying to think of how this blog is going to be different from my livejournal, but I could not come up with a sufficient answer. I know the shortest answer is usually the best one, and the shortest thing seems to be that this blog isn't going to be nearly as whiny. But my lj wasn't that whiny either, recently anyway, so...
Rather than saying what this blog will and won't be, I guess I'll just sketch out a few tagwords for my identities and go from there.
Catholic. Black. Poor. Gay. Student. Short. Urban. Independent. Issue-conscious-but-a-bad-activist. Stepper. Language-lover.
In that order.
"Que chevere ser el juggernaut."
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