He's paid what he's owed. He's square with the house again... - The Green Mile
As of right now, Tookie Williams is set to die in, say, 9 hrs.
To which I regretfully say... "eh... oh well."
You see, my concern is not so much about his dying is it is about the fact that people are pushing for him to live.
A few years back, some may remember that a nice white lady killer was born again in the big house church and became a leader of faith for those in that jail. Because of her repentance and new found faith there was a pro-life push by the faith coalition (aka: the Christian right). Well.. it didn't work and in the end she was able to get closer to Jesus by being killed by the state.. much like he was.
Her killing and Tookie's impending death bring a lot of questions to the table about the death penalty, it's usage, and the government condoning killing.
You see, folks, I am a sorta lenient pro-lifer. I don't personally like abortion and I hate the death penalty. However, as a guy I will never need an abortion because it appears we don't get pregnant and I am hopeful I will never have the position of having the power to kill someone. That said... if people die (which people tend to do for various reasons) then I will not protest. It is life and life is one part luck and another part choices. I also will not push my beliefs onto anyone else.
I do think that the government should only kill people when they have mastermind the killing of mass people. Hitler should die. Saddam should die. Pol Pot should be killed.. and all of these people should have their deaths televised. I think we ought to respect death by not killing people like Tookie and truly save it for the criminals who have promoted genocide or killing on level that cannot be adequately punished by life in prison.
Tookie made some bad choices. He killed people. He didn't HAVE to kill people. If he had wanted to kill people the government would have paid for him to kill all kinds of people overseas and yet he killed innocent regular people here in the great state of California for God knows what reason. Cali has been a death state for a while... and uh... you see where he is now.
Now, the man is moving through lawyers, press and celebrity to stay here on God's green earth. The very same earth he denied for others years ago. They say he's changed, he's regretful and has moved for peace. He wrote books. Wrote speeches. Guest appearance on "Hang Time". Nobel Prize finalist. Yet we cannot ignore the voices of the victims... the families of the people he killed. They are ready for him to die. Not saying either side is right.. but we have to examine that side too.
As he tries to save himself, though, I cannot help but thinking that he may be acting as selfish as he was when he killed those people. It is impossible to think that his recent positive actions are not directly born from the fact that not only did he do something wrong and is being forced to pay the piper... but that he is sensing the end is neigh and would like to do the right thing before he died (or maybe to postpone that death). In that, the most responsible thing he can do IS die... with honor and with a voice of regret and with a message of where he has been and where he is now. When he passes his legacy will not be one who skirted death by changing his life but one that died with dignity by acknowledging a past of wrongdoing and aiding in ensuring that his life and subsequent death would as serve as an example of how important the decisions we make EVERY day are and how precious life is.
As I finish this, Tookie has approximately 8 hours to live. Gov. Schwarzenegger has just denied him the chance to live. I pray Stanley "Tookie" Williams looks into himself and to his faith for strength. If our lives are defined by actions, we cannot forget that even in death redemption is possible if we choose to die in the same manner we live... with dignity and with purpose.
Monday, December 12, 2005
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Babysitter Tales: Gettin Grown
The best years of my life.
Well... just so YOU know... I have been hearing about these years since I was a kid. Adults told me they were my adolescent years when I was.. uh, an adolescent. My peers told me they were the best in High School and College. Your kid years are fun but actually SUCK compared to the joys you have when you get older.
No doubt my child years were fun... but it seems like to me that almost every year has been the best and the hardest of my life.
I have had some hard years, peeps. Losing loved ones physically and mentally has probably been the toughest hurdle in my relatively short life (although I am older than the "average black male death age".. Although I always thought that was a rumor... but I digress). It's funny.. everyone tells you about the good things about growing up but no one tells you about the strength you need to deal with the death and responsibility. As for me, I have been through some personal trying times that have bent my sense of self, radically changed my worldview, and reinforced my resolve to succeed.
I have trudged on through life... knowing always that better days were ahead and that I, being young and optimistic, could do anything.
This is why it is especially hard these days.
It's a lie.
The other day I realized all parents lie.
I cannot do ANYTHING I want anymore.
It was a Earth shattering when I realized... I can't play point guard for the Clippers.
Nnt now.. and by the time I could.. I still couldn't. I'd be too old. ME! TOO OLD!!!
This realization has hit me hard.
Yes, I know what you are saying. Okay, perhaps I don't. But I would guess you would be saying.. why would you want to play for the Clips? To which I would respond, "Don't be a dick. The Clips are kick ass these days! Get with the program. The important question is 'Why wouldn't I want to play with them?!"
You see, even good parents lie! It's true! They tell you things like work hard... which is good. They tell you there is no bogeyman... which may or may not be true. And most of all, they fill your head with such sugary tales about your ability to be or do anything.
Now... some people can't do anything by default *looks around room*. They, ahem ahem, just don't have, um.. the ability. But others... such as yourselves... DO. You can do anything. But, you have to do it soon. If you don't do it by 24 chalk it up as a loss. Unless you mean get rich. Then you usually have to wait till 30 to chalk it up. At least you better be on the path. Or it's working overtime in the coal mine for you! The COAL mine!
Annnnnnnnnnnnnnd.. I think I see a monster in the closet. *hits light*
G'night!
Well... just so YOU know... I have been hearing about these years since I was a kid. Adults told me they were my adolescent years when I was.. uh, an adolescent. My peers told me they were the best in High School and College. Your kid years are fun but actually SUCK compared to the joys you have when you get older.
No doubt my child years were fun... but it seems like to me that almost every year has been the best and the hardest of my life.
I have had some hard years, peeps. Losing loved ones physically and mentally has probably been the toughest hurdle in my relatively short life (although I am older than the "average black male death age".. Although I always thought that was a rumor... but I digress). It's funny.. everyone tells you about the good things about growing up but no one tells you about the strength you need to deal with the death and responsibility. As for me, I have been through some personal trying times that have bent my sense of self, radically changed my worldview, and reinforced my resolve to succeed.
I have trudged on through life... knowing always that better days were ahead and that I, being young and optimistic, could do anything.
This is why it is especially hard these days.
It's a lie.
The other day I realized all parents lie.
I cannot do ANYTHING I want anymore.
It was a Earth shattering when I realized... I can't play point guard for the Clippers.
Nnt now.. and by the time I could.. I still couldn't. I'd be too old. ME! TOO OLD!!!
This realization has hit me hard.
Yes, I know what you are saying. Okay, perhaps I don't. But I would guess you would be saying.. why would you want to play for the Clips? To which I would respond, "Don't be a dick. The Clips are kick ass these days! Get with the program. The important question is 'Why wouldn't I want to play with them?!"
You see, even good parents lie! It's true! They tell you things like work hard... which is good. They tell you there is no bogeyman... which may or may not be true. And most of all, they fill your head with such sugary tales about your ability to be or do anything.
Now... some people can't do anything by default *looks around room*. They, ahem ahem, just don't have, um.. the ability. But others... such as yourselves... DO. You can do anything. But, you have to do it soon. If you don't do it by 24 chalk it up as a loss. Unless you mean get rich. Then you usually have to wait till 30 to chalk it up. At least you better be on the path. Or it's working overtime in the coal mine for you! The COAL mine!
Annnnnnnnnnnnnnd.. I think I see a monster in the closet. *hits light*
G'night!
Monday, October 31, 2005
Appropriately Inappropriate
We have all had inappropriate moments.
Someone says a unfair generalization despite being ignorant of others around. The "joke" or comment is made and despite some laughter a fog of unease remains. Perhaps the "other" person heard. Perhaps someone is sensitive to such generalizations despite the "other" person's involvement...
But what makes a moment inappropriate? Is it the message or the listener?
For instance, is it inappropriate to watch Chappelle's show around a baby? They don't know what's going on TV and most of the ideas contained within will never register in their brain... but still, should such a infant be exposed to a show that lampoons negative images at all until they can totally discern humor and satire from objective opinion?
Can I make a joke about Rosa Parks? 9/11? The War on Terror? Muhammad Ali?
Can I even talk about negative aspects of painful experiences while they still hurt people who are close?
When does the healing process take precedence over social interaction?
Is humor's curing principles enough to cut past the pain (ie - Three Kings or Hogan's Heroes) or does a serious reverence for the hurting make more sense (Jarhead or Black Hawk Down)?
Can it be both? None?
Recently, I was forced to watch a movie with a friend. A friend I once dated but never perused further. The movie was a good one and hit the topics of people choosing how and who they love. The motives behind were exposed and how it effects people were displayed. It's a really fresh and honestly good movie. (No, I'm not gonna tell which one.)
Still, I felt like the movie provided a situation that was almost... innapropriate. It was inappropriate for her and I to share that experience. Because it dealt with a situation where I couldn't be involved with her because of my own issues despite some physical interaction and then I ended up putting her in the friend zone. Despite one brief talk about it, there has always been this unresolved feeling left to our relationship. Despite this, we are remarkably good friends and we hang all the time without a need to "talk".
Still, at the end of the movie because of the subject matter, I was uncomfortable. It had cut right to the bone. It had exposed me for not only the person I am (good and bad) but probably how I had been slightly more inconsiderate of her feelings than I should have. She has been sensitive to our situation and has tried to discuss it a couple times. She wants a resolution but such a thing to most people is simply the conclusion that makes us feel best. If my suspicions are correct... her resolve most likely, will never come. During the movie I waited for signs of her getting mad or uncomfortable, except for the fact that she never did... she didn't have a clue.
As we talked about the merits of the movie, I wondered if she would evernotice the blatant truth within it. If she would connect the irony of us watching the movie together. I wondered if this would lead to a bigger discussion about how we are. Maybe it would lead to us being even better friends... or maybe some of the inconsistencies in the movie would lead us to making sweeping negative conclusions about each other.
All this lead me to wonder: Is it me making this situation bad? Is it inappropriate to take certain friends to an experiences like this? Were we not ready for this movie or was this movie just what we needed?
Someone says a unfair generalization despite being ignorant of others around. The "joke" or comment is made and despite some laughter a fog of unease remains. Perhaps the "other" person heard. Perhaps someone is sensitive to such generalizations despite the "other" person's involvement...
But what makes a moment inappropriate? Is it the message or the listener?
For instance, is it inappropriate to watch Chappelle's show around a baby? They don't know what's going on TV and most of the ideas contained within will never register in their brain... but still, should such a infant be exposed to a show that lampoons negative images at all until they can totally discern humor and satire from objective opinion?
Can I make a joke about Rosa Parks? 9/11? The War on Terror? Muhammad Ali?
Can I even talk about negative aspects of painful experiences while they still hurt people who are close?
When does the healing process take precedence over social interaction?
Is humor's curing principles enough to cut past the pain (ie - Three Kings or Hogan's Heroes) or does a serious reverence for the hurting make more sense (Jarhead or Black Hawk Down)?
Can it be both? None?
Recently, I was forced to watch a movie with a friend. A friend I once dated but never perused further. The movie was a good one and hit the topics of people choosing how and who they love. The motives behind were exposed and how it effects people were displayed. It's a really fresh and honestly good movie. (No, I'm not gonna tell which one.)
Still, I felt like the movie provided a situation that was almost... innapropriate. It was inappropriate for her and I to share that experience. Because it dealt with a situation where I couldn't be involved with her because of my own issues despite some physical interaction and then I ended up putting her in the friend zone. Despite one brief talk about it, there has always been this unresolved feeling left to our relationship. Despite this, we are remarkably good friends and we hang all the time without a need to "talk".
Still, at the end of the movie because of the subject matter, I was uncomfortable. It had cut right to the bone. It had exposed me for not only the person I am (good and bad) but probably how I had been slightly more inconsiderate of her feelings than I should have. She has been sensitive to our situation and has tried to discuss it a couple times. She wants a resolution but such a thing to most people is simply the conclusion that makes us feel best. If my suspicions are correct... her resolve most likely, will never come. During the movie I waited for signs of her getting mad or uncomfortable, except for the fact that she never did... she didn't have a clue.
As we talked about the merits of the movie, I wondered if she would evernotice the blatant truth within it. If she would connect the irony of us watching the movie together. I wondered if this would lead to a bigger discussion about how we are. Maybe it would lead to us being even better friends... or maybe some of the inconsistencies in the movie would lead us to making sweeping negative conclusions about each other.
All this lead me to wonder: Is it me making this situation bad? Is it inappropriate to take certain friends to an experiences like this? Were we not ready for this movie or was this movie just what we needed?
Friday, October 28, 2005
Planet Home
I love living in a pedestrian metropolis. Let me rephrase, I love living in a city where people use mass transit.
I grew up in LA and if you have seen Crash, it's true, people are always driving and spend a great deal of time in their car. They also spend a lot of time talking about the biz and living the oh so glam LA life... but that's a different post.
Living in DC, the Bizarro LA, is amazing because it's such a bustling lively place.. in such a small area... kind of like a mini NYC in many ways. Everything is at your fingertips. You can eat at amazing innovative restaurants. You'll meet interesting diverse international people. You'll experience museum exhibits of all kinds of cultural jewels that can transport you anywhere... from examining exotic flora in lush locations around to the world all the way into the mind of the homeless and hopeless of skid row. You have it all.
Which is why I never understood the allure of suburban life.
True enough, here in DC there are not many attached car garages for even the larger homes (which sucks) and some people raise families in houses without lawns or a decent backyard (which is lunacy for me. Or even worse... condos! Condo + Kids = Yikes.) But I grew up in the suburb city of LA (and went to school in the ATL) and I refuse to live as a boring burbite. Even in DC you can stay in the city and get the space you need. Yes you pay more... but isn't that what people work hard for... quality of life?
Life in burbs is a serene one, no doubt.. but but it is also very nutralist, ie bland. And now that affordability of such a lifestyle is now catching up with city life it starts to even less reflect the Walmart-ish lifestyle that it once presented. The gas prices are soaring so that hour and a half in traffic that brought you from your sleep at 5 so you could make it to work at 9 now works against you. Heating that giant behemoth of a suburban dream house for your family has shot up almost 100% in the last 4 years. The fact that when friends come into town.. NO ONE wants to see how life is out in Bethesda.. (45 mins out) or Germantown (hour and a half out). People want to see DC and the liveliness of city. There are spots in the city that are just as safe as the burbs. And quite frankly, after eating at a small restaurant opened by a Thai immigrant who has brought the culture and poured the love for his homeland into a bowl of opportunity and lemongrass soup is amazing your local Applebees will never tastes the same (and often it'll be cheaper too!). It will sustain you but not fill you. Sorry, William J. Friday.
The greatest part about this life is that you are reminded of the greatness of the city daily. And each day as I leave my craaaaaaaamped apt here in the District, I slide in iPoddy Pablo's earbuds and pump up the volume high enough to pretend to ignore the pleas of the panhandlers and low enough so I can make sure I'll hear anyone sneak up on me and jack Pablo. Fumbling out of my apartment building, into the the cool sunrise and towards the Metro, I revel in the fact that my city is a beautiful exciting living entity, constantly growing... contantly changing. Indeed, it isn't New York or even LA but what it is is essentially a simple extension of my very typically Districtesque apartment... cozy, crazy, but home.
I grew up in LA and if you have seen Crash, it's true, people are always driving and spend a great deal of time in their car. They also spend a lot of time talking about the biz and living the oh so glam LA life... but that's a different post.
Living in DC, the Bizarro LA, is amazing because it's such a bustling lively place.. in such a small area... kind of like a mini NYC in many ways. Everything is at your fingertips. You can eat at amazing innovative restaurants. You'll meet interesting diverse international people. You'll experience museum exhibits of all kinds of cultural jewels that can transport you anywhere... from examining exotic flora in lush locations around to the world all the way into the mind of the homeless and hopeless of skid row. You have it all.
Which is why I never understood the allure of suburban life.
True enough, here in DC there are not many attached car garages for even the larger homes (which sucks) and some people raise families in houses without lawns or a decent backyard (which is lunacy for me. Or even worse... condos! Condo + Kids = Yikes.) But I grew up in the suburb city of LA (and went to school in the ATL) and I refuse to live as a boring burbite. Even in DC you can stay in the city and get the space you need. Yes you pay more... but isn't that what people work hard for... quality of life?
Life in burbs is a serene one, no doubt.. but but it is also very nutralist, ie bland. And now that affordability of such a lifestyle is now catching up with city life it starts to even less reflect the Walmart-ish lifestyle that it once presented. The gas prices are soaring so that hour and a half in traffic that brought you from your sleep at 5 so you could make it to work at 9 now works against you. Heating that giant behemoth of a suburban dream house for your family has shot up almost 100% in the last 4 years. The fact that when friends come into town.. NO ONE wants to see how life is out in Bethesda.. (45 mins out) or Germantown (hour and a half out). People want to see DC and the liveliness of city. There are spots in the city that are just as safe as the burbs. And quite frankly, after eating at a small restaurant opened by a Thai immigrant who has brought the culture and poured the love for his homeland into a bowl of opportunity and lemongrass soup is amazing your local Applebees will never tastes the same (and often it'll be cheaper too!). It will sustain you but not fill you. Sorry, William J. Friday.
The greatest part about this life is that you are reminded of the greatness of the city daily. And each day as I leave my craaaaaaaamped apt here in the District, I slide in iPoddy Pablo's earbuds and pump up the volume high enough to pretend to ignore the pleas of the panhandlers and low enough so I can make sure I'll hear anyone sneak up on me and jack Pablo. Fumbling out of my apartment building, into the the cool sunrise and towards the Metro, I revel in the fact that my city is a beautiful exciting living entity, constantly growing... contantly changing. Indeed, it isn't New York or even LA but what it is is essentially a simple extension of my very typically Districtesque apartment... cozy, crazy, but home.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Hope Springs Eternal...
I realize I need to keep my posts short. I am not cut out for the social blogging like my other friends... so from here on out.. I am working to avoid burnout by blogging in a morestaccato style. If a post takes me more than 30 mins... I'm trashing it.
The Powerball jackpot is 340 million bucks. I hate the fact that people lose their ever loving minds when these jackpots come out. Still, I understand.
Right now, ALL of the numbers available have been taken. ALL OF THE FREAKIN numbers. That's totally insane. Still, you may play the random draw if you wish to play. I think that says something about the state of the Union. In the few states that play the Powerball (thankfully the District of Columbia also participates) the people are so desperate for a lucky winfall of money, despite the odds, that they have played ALL the freakin numbers. The people of this country are not in good shape.. yet as Americans often are... we are brimming with hope.
So tonight, after the gym.. there I'll be. Playing right along wth them. Like Rose Royce, I'll be wishing on a star and investing in my dreams. I'll maintaining the optimistic ideas that grand luck will shine brightly upon me. I understand there are people who need it much more than I. Still, I think I am worthy for insta-wealth due to my giving nature and interest in improving the human condition.
My hope and faith in luck and myself is eternal, so like always I play the odds. Knowing that my loss at least helps the District and at most will ensure personal wealth (and those of my loved ones) and a greater social ambition... I'll play tonight.
Of course, if I win.. no one will ever know.
Even though I'll post it right here. lol
The Powerball jackpot is 340 million bucks. I hate the fact that people lose their ever loving minds when these jackpots come out. Still, I understand.
Right now, ALL of the numbers available have been taken. ALL OF THE FREAKIN numbers. That's totally insane. Still, you may play the random draw if you wish to play. I think that says something about the state of the Union. In the few states that play the Powerball (thankfully the District of Columbia also participates) the people are so desperate for a lucky winfall of money, despite the odds, that they have played ALL the freakin numbers. The people of this country are not in good shape.. yet as Americans often are... we are brimming with hope.
So tonight, after the gym.. there I'll be. Playing right along wth them. Like Rose Royce, I'll be wishing on a star and investing in my dreams. I'll maintaining the optimistic ideas that grand luck will shine brightly upon me. I understand there are people who need it much more than I. Still, I think I am worthy for insta-wealth due to my giving nature and interest in improving the human condition.
My hope and faith in luck and myself is eternal, so like always I play the odds. Knowing that my loss at least helps the District and at most will ensure personal wealth (and those of my loved ones) and a greater social ambition... I'll play tonight.
Of course, if I win.. no one will ever know.
Even though I'll post it right here. lol
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Sharing is Caring
So, I was in New.. I'm sorry.. N'awlins last week.
I was hanging out with some friends by the pool soakin' up the Bayou rays and ran into this guy hanging around my homegirl looking rather... shall I say, nervous?
He seemed to be a normal guy and I soon learned was friend my homegirl. So after doing the mandatory black male nod and handshake I went to a nearby cabana to chill with some friends and some tasty oh-so-tasty calimari. Upon sitting down I was quietly informed that the guy was her "lil' friend". THE "lil' (more than a friend) friend"? OH yes, the very engaged and soon to be married by early next year lil' (more than a friend) friend.
Did I mention he was engaged?
He's engaged.
Apparently, while abroad in an immersion program he professed his love for her... and said he couldn't go through with his marriage. That was several months ago. Now.... here they are in New Orleans together and acting all huggy and stuff and guess who is still getting married?
Later on she got mad at him... because he was mad at her... for coming to New Orleans (mainly for him.. but her friend has a friend in a wedding or some other bull) and not getting her own room. She was also mad he couldn't hang with her a lot but.. uh.. she musta forgot she was girl #2. Not the one.
Why do people do this to themselves?
By the end of the trip some of her girls gave her THE talk. The "you can do better" talk. She was sulked and BSed about why it wasn't that bad... but she got the picture eventually. She was never going to be THE main girl. She had shown to be content with being left on the bench... why would he let her in the game?
I hope my friend is finally understanding that some guys are simply full of themselves and their own needs, but she really should have known. It saddens me because... for someone almost in their mid thirties she is a lil old for these games. He, on the other hand, was in his mid-twenties and running that game on girls who he knows will bite.
For the life of me, I'll never understand. With all the media attention and general knowledge about these things... they are no longer secret.
IF he/she is engaged or married and tries to talk to you.. it doesn't matter why.. people we have need to leave it alone.
-Yes, they will bad talk their significant other.. but that just shows you their lack of loyalty.
-Yes, they will say that things are going to end soon or even have a deadline or plan to leave... but that is usually just talk. Never acted up on. As long as they are with them.. they are with them because they want to.
-Yes, they will overall talk a good game.. but that is why someone else loves them. And it may seem like all fun and games.. but imagine being on the other side.
I think the scary part about this is that it really made me think about how susceptible we are all to people like this. It may not seem so now but, really, all it takes is the right person to push the right buttons at the right time.
I was hanging out with some friends by the pool soakin' up the Bayou rays and ran into this guy hanging around my homegirl looking rather... shall I say, nervous?
He seemed to be a normal guy and I soon learned was friend my homegirl. So after doing the mandatory black male nod and handshake I went to a nearby cabana to chill with some friends and some tasty oh-so-tasty calimari. Upon sitting down I was quietly informed that the guy was her "lil' friend". THE "lil' (more than a friend) friend"? OH yes, the very engaged and soon to be married by early next year lil' (more than a friend) friend.
Did I mention he was engaged?
He's engaged.
Apparently, while abroad in an immersion program he professed his love for her... and said he couldn't go through with his marriage. That was several months ago. Now.... here they are in New Orleans together and acting all huggy and stuff and guess who is still getting married?
Later on she got mad at him... because he was mad at her... for coming to New Orleans (mainly for him.. but her friend has a friend in a wedding or some other bull) and not getting her own room. She was also mad he couldn't hang with her a lot but.. uh.. she musta forgot she was girl #2. Not the one.
Why do people do this to themselves?
By the end of the trip some of her girls gave her THE talk. The "you can do better" talk. She was sulked and BSed about why it wasn't that bad... but she got the picture eventually. She was never going to be THE main girl. She had shown to be content with being left on the bench... why would he let her in the game?
I hope my friend is finally understanding that some guys are simply full of themselves and their own needs, but she really should have known. It saddens me because... for someone almost in their mid thirties she is a lil old for these games. He, on the other hand, was in his mid-twenties and running that game on girls who he knows will bite.
For the life of me, I'll never understand. With all the media attention and general knowledge about these things... they are no longer secret.
IF he/she is engaged or married and tries to talk to you.. it doesn't matter why.. people we have need to leave it alone.
-Yes, they will bad talk their significant other.. but that just shows you their lack of loyalty.
-Yes, they will say that things are going to end soon or even have a deadline or plan to leave... but that is usually just talk. Never acted up on. As long as they are with them.. they are with them because they want to.
-Yes, they will overall talk a good game.. but that is why someone else loves them. And it may seem like all fun and games.. but imagine being on the other side.
I think the scary part about this is that it really made me think about how susceptible we are all to people like this. It may not seem so now but, really, all it takes is the right person to push the right buttons at the right time.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Men Are from Mars vol. 1 - Stagnant Convo
It has come to my attention that since we have passed out of the sensitive male era... people have forgotten:
**¡¡¡REMINDER!!!**¡¡¡REMINDER!!!**¡¡¡REMINDER!!!***¡¡¡REMINDER!!!**
MEN are from Mars and WOMEN are from Venus.
I say this because this distinction must be clarified. Such clarity is important because.. too much valuable time is often wasted pursuing gender specific agendas. Folks, gender equality doesn't mean the other gender has the understanding to deal with some of the gender specific behavior that simply does not translate. We aren't and cannot be expected to be a homogeneous society and any attempts to act in such a manner will always result in embarrassment or worse.
This last point has come painfully obviously as of late, especially in my life and I want to help both men and women out on this.
One of the first and more important ways this is true is in communication and in particular, phone mannerisms.
For instance:
Should a woman call a male... please have something to talk about. Calling without any specific agenda is flagrantly girlie and subsequently should be done only with your girls.
I am attempting to help avoid calls that go a little something like this:
Girl: Hey, babes!
Guy: Hey, what's up?
Girl: Nothing, you?
Guy: Actually, nothing on this side... just watching TV.
Girl: Okay... anything else?
Guy: Not really.
Girl: Okay...
(Silence)
Guy: I'm going to paint my ceiling fan.. I'll call you (never) okay?
Girl: Okay, have a nice day!
Guy: Uh, you too, crazy lady.
That convo is like pulling pubic hair out with your teeth. Excruciatingly painful. As a woman.. if you have nothing to talk about... do not call your boys. Perhaps if they are not straight they MAY tolerate this a lil more. But probably not.
Guys hate this... and it cannot be overstated that... we HATE this. This is stagnant convo and it's worse than playing a game of "Ugh, dude smell my finger". The reasons why it's SO painful.. not so easy to explain. See, we love talking to our friends most of the time. As a female friend you are cherished like a male friend, except you are usually more fun to look at (or have a mental pic of) and are often fun because of our varying and opposing gender paradigms. So, in short, we definitely want to talk to you.
Unfortunately, this will not overcome the awkwardness and eeriness of the call in which words are spoken, yet, nothing is intended and nothing is said. If someone is making a call, they ought to have a purpose. If that purpose is to simply see what other people are doing because your life is so boring... that simply isn't good enough for guys. Females, apparently somehow able to beat physics, can create energy and conversation out of nothing.
Yes, guys, they can actually make hour long convos of, consenting "I'm doing nothing"s. They have mastered the black hole of communication and can seemingly do time and space manipulation... depending if you have seen Love Actually or not. This is still being disputed as not enough intelligent guys have been trapped in such an unfortunate situation.
But guys? Not so advanced or evolved.
We usually call with a simple goal... to go over predetermined topics and expand into other realms using the powers harnessed in our male ADD. This is different than normal ADD because pretty much all guys have it in a sense. In fact, we are tuning you out for something better oh, in about 10 secs if you don't hurry up and mention at least one the terms: ass, titty, sex, girlfriend and I, etc... etc... and so on.. et. al. Any one of these words in any form (slang or otherwise) will keep us there. Unless, of course you possess a very seductive voice or we simply are in a listening mood. Which, irritatingly, renders the last paragraph null and void.
Still, we have these convos and they seem very easy to fall into. Especially since I seem to get cornered into one at least once every couple of weeks... and then, once again I'm trying to pull my leg out of a convo bear trap. Ladies, if faced with one of these convos it is imperative that you follow the following rules.
1. Stop.
2. Rethink the situation and find a gender specific situation that you can share with your male compadre.
3. Share that experience in an entertaining manner. Don't forget to use "ass", "sex", "girlfriend and I", "fondle", "breast", etc...
4. Express distaste, dissatisfaction, or ignorance about general male thinking or actions (end with, "present company excluded", of course)
5. Watch the call unfurl and bloom into a lively and entertaining conversation in which both listen and talk.
6. Fun!
See how easy that is?
Now that you have been educated on this you have no excuse to ever cause such stagnant convo. Go forth and converse freely.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Fools Gold
"He's been a CFO for some very prestigious companies you've never heard of," she started again.
At an early age he was destined for success and by the time they met his success had allowed him the kind of excess that is dreamed up by every rapper and middle class dreamer known. Their meeting was of chance yet as they talked they shared many similar ideals that belied the giant chasm in their ages. As the minutes merged into hours that first night, they talked politics and world traveling and made a connection that most would find unseemly.
"He just... buys whatever. I was afraid to mention things because he would just go out and buy them!"
As they hung out... he would talk about vacations abroad. Paris, Milan, Nairobi... all places they could go as things got too hot during the summer. Then he flew her home to pack for a trip to Vail, Colorado. She came back and they hopped in his newly purchased X5 (he got it for the trip) and they drove down to Vail. Once there, he would buy her almost anything she looked at (granted her non-extravagant tastes make such offers fairly reasonable).
They went to parties and chatted it with CEOs, CFOs, COOs and dignitaries from all over. They dined at the finest restaurants. They skied and played tennis in places she would never be allowed in otherwise. Still, as she found herself loving the lifestyle she began to understand that the man himself was not for him.
Last Sunday they broke up. And as I complained to her... "You liked him, right?" She would explain it wasn't enough. He was always around... and her independence was compromised. He was insecure because she is a pretty girl and much younger. Pessimism says a person is only as faithful as their options and if he bought that he was worried sick about her. It was too much. I couldn't believe it because she had seemed so happy. Apparently for the scrupulous, even with inflation, money still can't buy your soul.
"It'd been great if I was content to go to school and then do nothing much with my degree.. sit around... travel... hang out with him... as long as I gave him a couple of kids." And that was it, right? She wasn't ready to settle down. She still had the wild spirit inside.
I understand. I really did. I long to find peace of mind.. but until I do my mind and eye roams. But his life sounded like a dream. I really could live my life like that, I confessed. I mean, I can have kids till I am old, right? He is living my dream. I couldn't believe I was envious of a guy I had never met. Rich. Smart. Powerful friends. Best of everything. Through hard work he had achieved a life of infinite choice and excess. He IS the MAN. And while I am sure he knew he was buying her time... I actually began to feel bad for him because I know he liked her a lot.
"He is living my perfect life. I wish I could have met him."
Then she dropped the bomb. With a stone face she carefully explained the accident.
During much younger times he had gone mountain biking. Being the kind of competitor that pushes himself to the extreme, one day he and his friends decided to try to bike down a hill that was damn near a straight drop. It was inevitable. Riding (more like falling) he eventually took a tumble onto a bed of rocks and rolled... He sat there laying... got up... and fell again... only to get up again and finish biking. Through this trauma, his spinal cord was sent in an inescapable downwards spiral towards failure. One day he will wake up and be paralyzed. The worst situation: From the neck down. The best: maybe just half of his body. With all he had done.. mountain climbing in Tibet, skiing in France, and more... how could he live like that?
This was starting to sound eerily familiar.
Apparently, in case he was paralyzed he set up an escape plan. An insurance plan. He wanted to be remembered like he was in his glory.. and he wanted to ensure HE never forget that life either. He has like 10-15 more years. Then the current plan is... he's calling it quits. Probably without kids. Never been really married (there was that one quick divorce).
His only regret? The man with everything wishes he could have the one thing money still can't buy - family and time.
I can't lie, my eyes watered a bit. And as much as I hate to admit it.. it really wasn't just because I was sad for him.. MY plan too was always to be a successful business/ politico and perhaps later try to be a family guy later. Guys like him were my hero. They resisted societal pressures and fought to be a person of vast accomplishments and to be properly compensated for that. Everything else could come together on its own time.
I've had sneaking suspicions that I could have it all wrong. You know, that perhaps a life of labor would leave impressive accomplishments but little else. But there is no way to know for sure. Most people regret their lack of accomplishment and seek refuge in their families. Who knew it could be the other way around?!
I guess now my plan is to find my happiness and through love of people and work. How do I do it? HellifIknow! But I have been doing better in meeting people and forming relationships. I have spent so much time chasing this life that it's jarring that everything I believe might be wrong. I just never realized that my whole way of thinking about the direction in my life might be the reason why I haven't pushed for stronger relationships. Now that dream I've chased the last 10 years of my life... a fools gold.
I feel really sad when I think about it. I guess I should just be glad I am wising up now.
At an early age he was destined for success and by the time they met his success had allowed him the kind of excess that is dreamed up by every rapper and middle class dreamer known. Their meeting was of chance yet as they talked they shared many similar ideals that belied the giant chasm in their ages. As the minutes merged into hours that first night, they talked politics and world traveling and made a connection that most would find unseemly.
"He just... buys whatever. I was afraid to mention things because he would just go out and buy them!"
As they hung out... he would talk about vacations abroad. Paris, Milan, Nairobi... all places they could go as things got too hot during the summer. Then he flew her home to pack for a trip to Vail, Colorado. She came back and they hopped in his newly purchased X5 (he got it for the trip) and they drove down to Vail. Once there, he would buy her almost anything she looked at (granted her non-extravagant tastes make such offers fairly reasonable).
They went to parties and chatted it with CEOs, CFOs, COOs and dignitaries from all over. They dined at the finest restaurants. They skied and played tennis in places she would never be allowed in otherwise. Still, as she found herself loving the lifestyle she began to understand that the man himself was not for him.
Last Sunday they broke up. And as I complained to her... "You liked him, right?" She would explain it wasn't enough. He was always around... and her independence was compromised. He was insecure because she is a pretty girl and much younger. Pessimism says a person is only as faithful as their options and if he bought that he was worried sick about her. It was too much. I couldn't believe it because she had seemed so happy. Apparently for the scrupulous, even with inflation, money still can't buy your soul.
"It'd been great if I was content to go to school and then do nothing much with my degree.. sit around... travel... hang out with him... as long as I gave him a couple of kids." And that was it, right? She wasn't ready to settle down. She still had the wild spirit inside.
I understand. I really did. I long to find peace of mind.. but until I do my mind and eye roams. But his life sounded like a dream. I really could live my life like that, I confessed. I mean, I can have kids till I am old, right? He is living my dream. I couldn't believe I was envious of a guy I had never met. Rich. Smart. Powerful friends. Best of everything. Through hard work he had achieved a life of infinite choice and excess. He IS the MAN. And while I am sure he knew he was buying her time... I actually began to feel bad for him because I know he liked her a lot.
"He is living my perfect life. I wish I could have met him."
Then she dropped the bomb. With a stone face she carefully explained the accident.
During much younger times he had gone mountain biking. Being the kind of competitor that pushes himself to the extreme, one day he and his friends decided to try to bike down a hill that was damn near a straight drop. It was inevitable. Riding (more like falling) he eventually took a tumble onto a bed of rocks and rolled... He sat there laying... got up... and fell again... only to get up again and finish biking. Through this trauma, his spinal cord was sent in an inescapable downwards spiral towards failure. One day he will wake up and be paralyzed. The worst situation: From the neck down. The best: maybe just half of his body. With all he had done.. mountain climbing in Tibet, skiing in France, and more... how could he live like that?
This was starting to sound eerily familiar.
Apparently, in case he was paralyzed he set up an escape plan. An insurance plan. He wanted to be remembered like he was in his glory.. and he wanted to ensure HE never forget that life either. He has like 10-15 more years. Then the current plan is... he's calling it quits. Probably without kids. Never been really married (there was that one quick divorce).
His only regret? The man with everything wishes he could have the one thing money still can't buy - family and time.
I can't lie, my eyes watered a bit. And as much as I hate to admit it.. it really wasn't just because I was sad for him.. MY plan too was always to be a successful business/ politico and perhaps later try to be a family guy later. Guys like him were my hero. They resisted societal pressures and fought to be a person of vast accomplishments and to be properly compensated for that. Everything else could come together on its own time.
I've had sneaking suspicions that I could have it all wrong. You know, that perhaps a life of labor would leave impressive accomplishments but little else. But there is no way to know for sure. Most people regret their lack of accomplishment and seek refuge in their families. Who knew it could be the other way around?!
I guess now my plan is to find my happiness and through love of people and work. How do I do it? HellifIknow! But I have been doing better in meeting people and forming relationships. I have spent so much time chasing this life that it's jarring that everything I believe might be wrong. I just never realized that my whole way of thinking about the direction in my life might be the reason why I haven't pushed for stronger relationships. Now that dream I've chased the last 10 years of my life... a fools gold.
I feel really sad when I think about it. I guess I should just be glad I am wising up now.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
A House Is Not A Home
I have had quite the blogging hiatus. I needed time to gather my thoughts and get back on path...
But this not so shocking Luther passing has touched a spot. It's time to come out and speak on the dangers of eating disorders.
No, not the disorders you see in Hollywood. If you are just following along... that's really code word for "drugs". Don't be fooled.
No I am talking about one of the biggest political and social issues of the year.. and one that could be.
Meet Terry Shiavo. You just might have heard her name before. In case you haven't... she was a anorexic young lady who starved herself until her brain could not function on the few red blood cell that were carrying oxygen to her brain. In affect, she drowned herself, entered a permanent vegetative state in which her brain dead self only retained the most basic of responses and an unnecessary political firestorm was raised when she was to be taken off of her feeding tube. Very sad case, and ultimately preventable.
Luther, was like many stars and many gay males (lets not pretend NOW) very concerned with his physical upkeep... it went to the point it became obsessive. He battled with his weight constantly and publicly to the point that he was mocked for it. Yet, in fact, it was not a joke.. it was a serious matter and finally when he had his stroke it was the climax to a long struggle with his self perception. His body could take no more.
What makes these cases sad is that both were beautiful people with family and friends who adored them. In Luther's case he had fans who didn't care if he looked like Ruben Studdard or DJ Squalls as long as he would smoothly tell our girls how we felt about them... so that we didn't have to say a word.
On the other hand, Shiavo was a very pretty woman with a husband and a family that would obviously do anything to keep her around. When people look at her old pictures it's odd to see the youthful face that many don't recognize. We really only knew the brain dead Terry from the videos on TV.
In the end... it wasn't enough. People have to find the love from within and realize that searching for approval. We are all flawed as humans, and even the most beautiful often have serious doubts about their looks. But in the end the looks always fade over time and what we are left with is ourselves. You have to be comfortable in your own skin. With a very judgmental world out there... you have to be your own sanctuary... and love yourself as God created you.
I only hope that these two deaths can serve as a wake up call. If you notice your friends having odd eating disorder behavior or make suspicious comments... take it seriously. It is SO easy to overlook and shrug it off. Trust me... I've been there and when you open up the secret often times the other person will joke and kid to make it seem very small. It's not small. You NEVER know... you really just never know... when the joke turns ugly and the hidden truth comes out... sometimes even a joke can turn deadly.
Rest In Peace, Luther...
But this not so shocking Luther passing has touched a spot. It's time to come out and speak on the dangers of eating disorders.
No, not the disorders you see in Hollywood. If you are just following along... that's really code word for "drugs". Don't be fooled.
No I am talking about one of the biggest political and social issues of the year.. and one that could be.
Meet Terry Shiavo. You just might have heard her name before. In case you haven't... she was a anorexic young lady who starved herself until her brain could not function on the few red blood cell that were carrying oxygen to her brain. In affect, she drowned herself, entered a permanent vegetative state in which her brain dead self only retained the most basic of responses and an unnecessary political firestorm was raised when she was to be taken off of her feeding tube. Very sad case, and ultimately preventable.
Luther, was like many stars and many gay males (lets not pretend NOW) very concerned with his physical upkeep... it went to the point it became obsessive. He battled with his weight constantly and publicly to the point that he was mocked for it. Yet, in fact, it was not a joke.. it was a serious matter and finally when he had his stroke it was the climax to a long struggle with his self perception. His body could take no more.
What makes these cases sad is that both were beautiful people with family and friends who adored them. In Luther's case he had fans who didn't care if he looked like Ruben Studdard or DJ Squalls as long as he would smoothly tell our girls how we felt about them... so that we didn't have to say a word.
On the other hand, Shiavo was a very pretty woman with a husband and a family that would obviously do anything to keep her around. When people look at her old pictures it's odd to see the youthful face that many don't recognize. We really only knew the brain dead Terry from the videos on TV.
In the end... it wasn't enough. People have to find the love from within and realize that searching for approval. We are all flawed as humans, and even the most beautiful often have serious doubts about their looks. But in the end the looks always fade over time and what we are left with is ourselves. You have to be comfortable in your own skin. With a very judgmental world out there... you have to be your own sanctuary... and love yourself as God created you.
I only hope that these two deaths can serve as a wake up call. If you notice your friends having odd eating disorder behavior or make suspicious comments... take it seriously. It is SO easy to overlook and shrug it off. Trust me... I've been there and when you open up the secret often times the other person will joke and kid to make it seem very small. It's not small. You NEVER know... you really just never know... when the joke turns ugly and the hidden truth comes out... sometimes even a joke can turn deadly.
Rest In Peace, Luther...
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Not A MJ Post!
Since everyone was talking Michael... I thought I would write up this little non-Michael post... and then not post it till this disclaimer was irrelevant. Ha. The joke's on me!
"The sins of the father visit upon the children."
This statement has never been more apparent to me.
Usually, I use this statement in my debates to shut up anti-Affirmative Action folk. Somehow this works even with people who think that racism doesn't exist or affect people.
Lately, I have been seeing that the vices (because I like that better than "sins") of certain people manifest themselves through the individual actions and when you get to a certain age.. these vices (e.g. laziness, addictive personalities, jealousy, bitterness...) plague their lives like a bad case o' herpes. You can't shake it... you just hope to contain it...
As I saw a mother instructing her lil son to pee on the building behind mine.. in the alley... this started to really affect me. What is she teaching that kid? Isn't there another way?
Interesting to me these days people seem to more and more believe that behavior is not learned but somehow hardwired in. It's not. Your zodiac sign.. that stuff is garbage. This may be hard to accept... but you just need to trust me. GARBAGE.
We learn things through our parents and other outside influences. This is so true that often our half ass attempts to be original are us rehashing efforts we have heard people that we respect do. And yes sometimes this won't come from your parents.. it'll come from your own experiences and the manner which you have these experiences... but inevitably you are put in a position to have these experiences by your guardians.. whoever that may be.
I have a friend whose cousins are fairly wild. The mother moans and wails about how they don’t do what they need to do. The older cousin is 13 and she JUST decided she didn't want a tattoo on her neck. Why? She doesn't know. I had to sit her down and let her know that unless she was going to be an entertainer... visible tats like she wanted will only hinder her career progress. Of course, this led to the basic talk about how people, including herself judge others on their looks. It aint fair.. but that's life. She didn't know any better and her love for tats was started by her mother's fav tat on her ankle. She always rebels against her mother... and yet here she was trying to be just like her.
It's time parents owned up to a new level of responsibility. Once you have kids... your life isn't OVER.. but your independence is. Your kids are more important. It doesn't matter if you are 14 or 34. It doesn't matter if HE doesn't want to be involved... or if she decides to "check out". Some one has to step up for the kid. The more you sacrifice the more you will be given. And while the results will not be immediate... they will come and they are worth it. You simply must have faith in yourself and your child. Sadly, this does mean it cannot be all about you anymore. Your needs are secondary and that does mean not bringing your badass baby to the 9:30 showing of Mr. & Mrs. Smith!! Jerks.
It's 2005 and we've come so far... but we must go further. Sometimes we don't plan to be parents and parenthood is thrust onto us by a moment of bad judgment or the roll of the dice just takes an unexpected hop. It is in this moment where we are given the power to change the world. Even in the hardest ghetto and the darkest of times, we can give our child our soul or do like the DMV and send the down the line. But they need us...
And as we grow older we must accept that now the challenges are changing. The threats to the children are online and in person. There are no short cuts to parenting. As the times change parental have to adapt too. We (and I have included myself and other childless people because we have to step up too sometimes) have to understand the times but also realize that the old stand-bys of love and attention will go a lot further than a Net Nanny and the V-Chip.
I am slightly concerned because with the Babymommas and the Grandmothers raising their grandkids the kids may not get the necessary guidance from their parents. They need the encouragement, the "NO"s when they ask for something dangerous, the love when they need a shelter from the world, and the sense that their parents would do anything for them.
It's time to do better, ya'll... and if you know you can't... please, please, please use protection.
Friday, June 03, 2005
Delusions of Glamour
The internet is like a funhouse mirror.
It lies to people. People who want fame can be famous. Kids who want to be adults can be adults, men who want to be women can be... well... you know.
The internet is a fake world of hidden agendas where personality quirks and traits become whole identities. Ironically, people often don't understand how the real and the virtual worlds often collide with fantasically disastrous results.
One of the worse disasters I have come into contact with are the internet models.
Much like anyone with a dream that may be unattainable, many of these women are pretty, maybe witty, and have a dream that their physical blessings will lead them to a career of looking pretty for money. With great hopes they put up websites dedicated to making them at least the next Vida Guerra.
Now, I know that some will be able to do Chingy's next music video and possibly even get a chance to walk at their local Sears fashion show. But the money in that... while decent for the work done, it's short money. This kind of change is honestly not worth the effort of getting photos, putting the effort into learning the walks, consistently getting shot down and (really) putting your faith and hope into modeling overall.
Modeling is a tough biz. I have had a couple friends wisely leave or get burnt out and they were legit models who were actually talented. They hit the sick height and weight requirements necessary to do the job... they had the smile... the look... the walk... and the time and confidence to spare. They had all they needed and made it a short career because they decided it wasn't THAT much fun, as most people with reasonably normal sized egos do. The shallowness, the petty people, the inconsistent work, and the strength to be judged and to look past others not looking past your flaws takes a toll. But even more than that... the industry doesn't have much longevity and I am unaware of any retirement plans. Finally they settled into careers which have, ultimately, more possibilities for the future with fond memories of a fun time in modeling.
These internet women usually don't quite fit the model fold whether they are too short, too large or simply not pretty. What makes this tragic, to me, is that I love people with big dreams of something grander than just being rich or famous. The willingness to work for success is beautiful. But these model dreams (and most acting ones too.. but that is a different subject) are based on the idea that it will be fun to be idolized and it's not much work... which... compared to REAL work.. it's not.
In the end, the internet will connect these "models" with shady photographers, crooked "agents", and other unscrupulous people. They also may mix with general 3rd tier photographers and agents that could give these women a possible lackluster career in modeling. Now, I wouldn't discourage even THIS if the women (and, lets be honest, some men) had careers on the side, which can be done. But this often isn't so. WAY too often years are left in the wake of unattainable dreams... or better put.... delusions of glamour. Therein the tragedy lies.
If time is the one resource that you can never get back... the one thing you cannot fix (ask Michael Jackson... he's still trying to find his "Childhood"). As a former actor now living far away from my childhood home of LA, I have seen the ravages of time on unprepared. From homeless, or the deflated folks trying to hold on to even slivers of past success it is NOT a pretty picture. All I hope is that these people have people around them that will assist them in insuring that a future dream doesn't become a nasty nightmare of reality.
I'm trying to shorten up these posts, btw.. but damn if I can stop myself from my usual blabbering. I apologize. Really, I do.
It lies to people. People who want fame can be famous. Kids who want to be adults can be adults, men who want to be women can be... well... you know.
The internet is a fake world of hidden agendas where personality quirks and traits become whole identities. Ironically, people often don't understand how the real and the virtual worlds often collide with fantasically disastrous results.
One of the worse disasters I have come into contact with are the internet models.
Much like anyone with a dream that may be unattainable, many of these women are pretty, maybe witty, and have a dream that their physical blessings will lead them to a career of looking pretty for money. With great hopes they put up websites dedicated to making them at least the next Vida Guerra.
Now, I know that some will be able to do Chingy's next music video and possibly even get a chance to walk at their local Sears fashion show. But the money in that... while decent for the work done, it's short money. This kind of change is honestly not worth the effort of getting photos, putting the effort into learning the walks, consistently getting shot down and (really) putting your faith and hope into modeling overall.
Modeling is a tough biz. I have had a couple friends wisely leave or get burnt out and they were legit models who were actually talented. They hit the sick height and weight requirements necessary to do the job... they had the smile... the look... the walk... and the time and confidence to spare. They had all they needed and made it a short career because they decided it wasn't THAT much fun, as most people with reasonably normal sized egos do. The shallowness, the petty people, the inconsistent work, and the strength to be judged and to look past others not looking past your flaws takes a toll. But even more than that... the industry doesn't have much longevity and I am unaware of any retirement plans. Finally they settled into careers which have, ultimately, more possibilities for the future with fond memories of a fun time in modeling.
These internet women usually don't quite fit the model fold whether they are too short, too large or simply not pretty. What makes this tragic, to me, is that I love people with big dreams of something grander than just being rich or famous. The willingness to work for success is beautiful. But these model dreams (and most acting ones too.. but that is a different subject) are based on the idea that it will be fun to be idolized and it's not much work... which... compared to REAL work.. it's not.
In the end, the internet will connect these "models" with shady photographers, crooked "agents", and other unscrupulous people. They also may mix with general 3rd tier photographers and agents that could give these women a possible lackluster career in modeling. Now, I wouldn't discourage even THIS if the women (and, lets be honest, some men) had careers on the side, which can be done. But this often isn't so. WAY too often years are left in the wake of unattainable dreams... or better put.... delusions of glamour. Therein the tragedy lies.
If time is the one resource that you can never get back... the one thing you cannot fix (ask Michael Jackson... he's still trying to find his "Childhood"). As a former actor now living far away from my childhood home of LA, I have seen the ravages of time on unprepared. From homeless, or the deflated folks trying to hold on to even slivers of past success it is NOT a pretty picture. All I hope is that these people have people around them that will assist them in insuring that a future dream doesn't become a nasty nightmare of reality.
I'm trying to shorten up these posts, btw.. but damn if I can stop myself from my usual blabbering. I apologize. Really, I do.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
3 Nights In Miami
4 days in paradise... 3 nights of partying.
Recently, some friends and I spent some quality time with one of my favorite cities, Miami.
Ah yes, 3 sinful nights... hitting 3 amazing clubs.. with only one rule: upon a safe return to DCA whatever happened in Miami... stayed in Miami (Because Vegas doesn't have nothing on Miami - Thank you, Training Day). It was impossible to know that Miami would have such a heavier impact on my DC future.
As some background... I'm a single guy. Single and loving it. Can't stand the idea of being locked down. I'm a Freebird, man! I actually tell these lies to myself every day. Honestly, I'm a serial monogamist. I enjoy having a woman who is about something and that I can enjoy time with when I need to unwind. And perhaps after I am done with the unwinding I can stumble along a few things that make her happy. Some flowers here... random gifts there... possibly a poem... definitely a compliment... and yeah, maybe a few all night of multiple orgasm sessions. (Note: I have to say such things to make myself look good. Not that they aren't true... but... ah... you know)
Since my last relationship went Chernobyl, I have been all about the dating and meeting people but mainly staying free. Sadly, I often feign macho and act like women merely are there to hang out with and pump up my ego when I pretend it's new that they tell me I'm cute. And while I know I am... it's a bit much even for me (but don't let that stop you). I constantly push people away enjoying their time and beautiful personalities only to severe the ties when it seemed like I was allowing too much self transparency. And it is with this mentality I flew down to Miami for 4 days of general debauchery. In my head I planned to meet some women, attempt to work a little game, drink till I was sweating premium vodka, and perhaps (just perhaps!) do a few things that could never be verbalized back in DC... and then leave... scott free and refreshed for another week of grinding work. The plan sounds great if you ignore the glaring fact that I have no game.
I get in to my hotel and get ready to cause trouble. After a very quick stint at Fat Tuesday, we jump started the weekend at the Shore Club. With a nod to the Carmelo Anthony I was off and drinking. Drinking and chatting. Chatting and Dancing. All the while imbibing more and more vodka. Somewhere around that initial nod to Carmelo (or was it Camby?) I realized that I was hitting The Goose by the bottle. Four or five hours and 3 hot timid gyrating Indian chicks later I found myself asleep in my room with the room noticeably NOT spinning. Good night.
The next night we end up at this beautifully simple club called Bed. Whoever thought conceptualized combining the club and lounge appeal of drinking in groups of people in multiple beds was a genius. Plain and simple. Since most days I never want to get out of bed this was particularly appealing. I ended up dancing and drinking the night away with a troupe of 35 and older sexy women. I danced and danced till literally my legs gave out and then proceeded dancing some more.
By the time the third night came around my legs were as useless as a wet Metro farecard. In fact, the constant wailing of my legs as I moved around the beautiful atrium of club Opium made them annoying enough for me to consider a life in a wheelchair. The pain was excruciating and I realized I couldn't go any further. By (an early) 1am I was chilling back in my hotel lounge with the good friends I had recently made.
But... as I started to down my last Miami mojito I realized... this club life... it's amazing fun... and after the work schedule I have... it's a Godsend. BUT... I couldn't do this all the time. I retired Dream over a year ago and I've never done H20 (thank GOD). And as I started to reflect, my Miami club experience began to reflect the sugar cane wallowing amongst the mint in my mojito: initially sweet but it's short lived and soon you're left with a weary sugar stick.
Now don't get me wrong... we all need this kind of excitement in our lives. Sometimes you just got to break out lest you'll end up going crazy. But dating, like the club life, eventually has to give way to a gratify life of subdued fun. Fun that is more constant, dependable, reliable... Partying day in and day out is like going from woman to woman... instantly gratifying and ultimately empty. It's like bad Chinese food. I need house parties that are filled with people I love (or want to love, heh), dinner parties with the friends I adore, or dolo times with one of my favs: Me!
I do have friends who love this life. Clubbing and women... Their life is one of memorable leisure relationships that initially sound great until all their left with is memories. Girl to girl and place to place... they go without many cares, just as long as their honest and don't game too much they feel justified. And for the most part.. they are. But what is the payoff?
Soon, I realized in dismissing such a party life, I was really talking about my life. Denial is a hellauva drug. More potent than crack and easier to justify. I realized I can't live the daily "Miami life" like my other friends dispersed around the country. I'm just not that guy. Occasionally I can party with the best of them and I'll never be a homebody.... but it's time that I put my delusions behind me. When I party... I have to party hard, just like when I love... I love with everything I have... and... sometimes that's scary. I guess then I realized that I'm in Chocolate City and I really need to stop dismissing people who want to know me better or just have fun with me... even if it's just as a friend. Inevitably I'll regret saying this, but it's time to allow and accept the good things that come my way into my life.
It's time reject denial and to accept reality... I love women but I really love really knowing a woman. And I don't have to date them all... sometimes you I'll just meet a lifelong friend.
This reign of fear that leads to me pushing people away when they've snuck too close is officially over...
Recently, some friends and I spent some quality time with one of my favorite cities, Miami.
Ah yes, 3 sinful nights... hitting 3 amazing clubs.. with only one rule: upon a safe return to DCA whatever happened in Miami... stayed in Miami (Because Vegas doesn't have nothing on Miami - Thank you, Training Day). It was impossible to know that Miami would have such a heavier impact on my DC future.
As some background... I'm a single guy. Single and loving it. Can't stand the idea of being locked down. I'm a Freebird, man! I actually tell these lies to myself every day. Honestly, I'm a serial monogamist. I enjoy having a woman who is about something and that I can enjoy time with when I need to unwind. And perhaps after I am done with the unwinding I can stumble along a few things that make her happy. Some flowers here... random gifts there... possibly a poem... definitely a compliment... and yeah, maybe a few all night of multiple orgasm sessions. (Note: I have to say such things to make myself look good. Not that they aren't true... but... ah... you know)
Since my last relationship went Chernobyl, I have been all about the dating and meeting people but mainly staying free. Sadly, I often feign macho and act like women merely are there to hang out with and pump up my ego when I pretend it's new that they tell me I'm cute. And while I know I am... it's a bit much even for me (but don't let that stop you). I constantly push people away enjoying their time and beautiful personalities only to severe the ties when it seemed like I was allowing too much self transparency. And it is with this mentality I flew down to Miami for 4 days of general debauchery. In my head I planned to meet some women, attempt to work a little game, drink till I was sweating premium vodka, and perhaps (just perhaps!) do a few things that could never be verbalized back in DC... and then leave... scott free and refreshed for another week of grinding work. The plan sounds great if you ignore the glaring fact that I have no game.
I get in to my hotel and get ready to cause trouble. After a very quick stint at Fat Tuesday, we jump started the weekend at the Shore Club. With a nod to the Carmelo Anthony I was off and drinking. Drinking and chatting. Chatting and Dancing. All the while imbibing more and more vodka. Somewhere around that initial nod to Carmelo (or was it Camby?) I realized that I was hitting The Goose by the bottle. Four or five hours and 3 hot timid gyrating Indian chicks later I found myself asleep in my room with the room noticeably NOT spinning. Good night.
The next night we end up at this beautifully simple club called Bed. Whoever thought conceptualized combining the club and lounge appeal of drinking in groups of people in multiple beds was a genius. Plain and simple. Since most days I never want to get out of bed this was particularly appealing. I ended up dancing and drinking the night away with a troupe of 35 and older sexy women. I danced and danced till literally my legs gave out and then proceeded dancing some more.
By the time the third night came around my legs were as useless as a wet Metro farecard. In fact, the constant wailing of my legs as I moved around the beautiful atrium of club Opium made them annoying enough for me to consider a life in a wheelchair. The pain was excruciating and I realized I couldn't go any further. By (an early) 1am I was chilling back in my hotel lounge with the good friends I had recently made.
But... as I started to down my last Miami mojito I realized... this club life... it's amazing fun... and after the work schedule I have... it's a Godsend. BUT... I couldn't do this all the time. I retired Dream over a year ago and I've never done H20 (thank GOD). And as I started to reflect, my Miami club experience began to reflect the sugar cane wallowing amongst the mint in my mojito: initially sweet but it's short lived and soon you're left with a weary sugar stick.
Now don't get me wrong... we all need this kind of excitement in our lives. Sometimes you just got to break out lest you'll end up going crazy. But dating, like the club life, eventually has to give way to a gratify life of subdued fun. Fun that is more constant, dependable, reliable... Partying day in and day out is like going from woman to woman... instantly gratifying and ultimately empty. It's like bad Chinese food. I need house parties that are filled with people I love (or want to love, heh), dinner parties with the friends I adore, or dolo times with one of my favs: Me!
I do have friends who love this life. Clubbing and women... Their life is one of memorable leisure relationships that initially sound great until all their left with is memories. Girl to girl and place to place... they go without many cares, just as long as their honest and don't game too much they feel justified. And for the most part.. they are. But what is the payoff?
Soon, I realized in dismissing such a party life, I was really talking about my life. Denial is a hellauva drug. More potent than crack and easier to justify. I realized I can't live the daily "Miami life" like my other friends dispersed around the country. I'm just not that guy. Occasionally I can party with the best of them and I'll never be a homebody.... but it's time that I put my delusions behind me. When I party... I have to party hard, just like when I love... I love with everything I have... and... sometimes that's scary. I guess then I realized that I'm in Chocolate City and I really need to stop dismissing people who want to know me better or just have fun with me... even if it's just as a friend. Inevitably I'll regret saying this, but it's time to allow and accept the good things that come my way into my life.
It's time reject denial and to accept reality... I love women but I really love really knowing a woman. And I don't have to date them all... sometimes you I'll just meet a lifelong friend.
This reign of fear that leads to me pushing people away when they've snuck too close is officially over...
Monday, May 16, 2005
A Very Obnoxious "Crash"
Last night I saw "Crash". If you ever saw "Magnolia" and wondered what it would've been like without the characters being so over the top, well, perhaps "Crash" is for you. I certainly wondered this and with that in mind I sat watching much of the movie comparing and contrasting the two. While this may have hurt my total enjoyment of the movie in the theater, it actually added to the resonating thought provoking feelings I had afterwards.
Much like the more abstract "Magnolia", watching "Crash" is like throwing a rock into your mind's serenity pond. It's an entertaining piece about people and the troubling situations that they face. It's very disturbing at parts and if the initial splash doesn't cause you problems certainly the rippling post-movie discussion will.
But most intriguing about this movie is what isn't said during the movie. Miscommunication mars the lives of these characters in easily avoidable ways. Sometimes it's because someone is merely not paying attention. Sometimes it's because someone is distracted. And sometimes they are so consumed by self-imposed issues and concepts that they cannot see their reality playing in front of them. What is so beautiful about this film is that while some characters are granted clarity, some are not. It's beautiful honest to life while still retaining movie magic. (BTW, Clarity would be a perfect song for this movie... I don't know if any of you folks listen to John Mayer but if you do you know what I mean. If you don't check him out on Itunes).
What interested me more than anything, was the important role of law enforcement officers in this movie (and Magnolia). I find police officers to be an especially interesting crowd because of their position of power and the percieved obligation they are put in to save the world. All this while being vilified by people who fear them, their general power, and/ or the power of a structured government.
Probably most rational is the fear of police, mostly because of the violent history of past police abuses. In Los Angeles, where I grew up, the history of police brutality goes way past Rodney King all the way to the 20's and 30's (see LA Confidential). During this time the police were given the unsaid word that they had almost complete autonomy in cleaning up the streets (ala Rudolph Giuliani). When such a task is given to even a morally and mentally strong human, unfortunately the human part usually comes out. In such a case either one (the moral or mental) part may collapse to stereotype, greed, or other issues that prey on those who need help to cope with a daily grind. Corruption of these ideals is almost inevitable without something to help cope. No one person is beyond this and only faith and outlets for anger and confusion will stave off the inevitable acquiesce.
When an otherwise normal person succumbs to such pressures, mistakes happen. If you saw Crash, you know what I mean. Being a Protector of the people is not without it's own perils. The pressure becomes almost Dave Chappellian (new word for the atlas-like effort of mounting the task of living up to the expectations of others... in this case the cops live up to societies expectations). Like a kettle of hot water, as the water turns to steam, only the release prevents an explosion. In fact, as of late there have been several incidents in LA, actually that would illustrate this point (look here or here - both are LA Times pages and you have to register).
When you are mentally or morally wounded by something and do not seek help, you leave yourself vulnerable to the thoughts and actions of weak people. I won't give away anything (more) in the movie but the more vulnerable you are, the more likely you are to allow the power given to you to be used in corrupt ways. I mean, look at that Anakin Skywalker! Starting wars all over the galaxy because people have told him that there were (unfounded) threats to the Republic. Thank goodness this couldn't happen in the good ol' US of A!
But I digress. If you can't imagine the Chappellian pressures... imagine countless people expecting you to use your eyes to see events that aren't there yet, to use your mind to know the devil inside people who seems totally normal, to have the strength to save those who cannot be saved or, perhaps, must save themselves. They have to be all things to all people. Then they must be infallible in avoiding mistakes and not allowing people to be seen in as groups but always as individuals. Their need for a release is immediate but their desire to maintain composure usually takes precedence. Which is also good because many times ordinary civilians can't handle the idea that their Protectors are worried. We need our Protectors to be strong... we need them to have a release.
With that said, I live near the National Law Enforcement Memorial and all I can say.. is WHAT THE F*CK?! These damn Protectors are playing their bagpipes at the wee hours o' the morning and acting like fools. You see, readers, starting last week cops from all around the nation have been coming and parking their asses and patrol cars in front and around my apartment building. They're here to celebrate National Police Week and all I have to say is... how ironic is THIS?! These guys party like they might not see tomorrow (oh wait) but seriously, isn't this law memorial weekend thing supposed to be reverent to those who have died in action?
As of now, I have counted them breaking only FIVE laws. The open container law, jaywalking, public drunkenness, noise restrictions, littering en masse, and generally being jackasses. That last one may not be a law, but Sweet Jesus and Friends, it was like they were attempting to break a record in jackasstivity. Damn pigs! (Kidding!) Now I understand what it is to host a Spring Break Week, Black Bike Week, Freaknik or whatever. These cops were extremely obnoxious and then with their blocking off of important streets... my friends, I wanted to kill. Adding on top of all this that they are law enforcement officers (as one could easily tell by the badges around their neck) it was almost unconscionable. (I mean who you gonna call? The COPS?!) Still, I thank my lucky stars because I think they haven't been quite AS bad as last year. And while I do remember the folks last year being almost twice as obnoxious on the bagpipes, last year (they played until, say, 7 in the morning) I appreciate that lately their ruckus usually loses steam around 4 or so. Thank GOD. 3 more hours of sleep. Oh... and they have not thrown nearly as much trash on the ground. Which I did sort of appreciate.
Still, mi amigos, with all that said, remember to be kind to your local cops. Despite what you may or may not think being a cop is often a thankless job. They aren't paid as well as they should and most people just expect them to be there when they need them. It aint that easy. Cops are an important part of keeping law and order, fulfilling Rousseu's "societal contract" and quite frankly it's a job with serious moral and mental repercussions. It may not seem like a big deal to you now but wait till you have something you actually want to protect... like.... kids, perhaps a car that is worth something, or even yourself. And if you think police harassment is bad, wait until they PARTY outside of your DOOR.
(And even then it beats the quiet crackheads that are usually there. Although... they usually are quiet.)
Much like the more abstract "Magnolia", watching "Crash" is like throwing a rock into your mind's serenity pond. It's an entertaining piece about people and the troubling situations that they face. It's very disturbing at parts and if the initial splash doesn't cause you problems certainly the rippling post-movie discussion will.
But most intriguing about this movie is what isn't said during the movie. Miscommunication mars the lives of these characters in easily avoidable ways. Sometimes it's because someone is merely not paying attention. Sometimes it's because someone is distracted. And sometimes they are so consumed by self-imposed issues and concepts that they cannot see their reality playing in front of them. What is so beautiful about this film is that while some characters are granted clarity, some are not. It's beautiful honest to life while still retaining movie magic. (BTW, Clarity would be a perfect song for this movie... I don't know if any of you folks listen to John Mayer but if you do you know what I mean. If you don't check him out on Itunes).
What interested me more than anything, was the important role of law enforcement officers in this movie (and Magnolia). I find police officers to be an especially interesting crowd because of their position of power and the percieved obligation they are put in to save the world. All this while being vilified by people who fear them, their general power, and/ or the power of a structured government.
Probably most rational is the fear of police, mostly because of the violent history of past police abuses. In Los Angeles, where I grew up, the history of police brutality goes way past Rodney King all the way to the 20's and 30's (see LA Confidential). During this time the police were given the unsaid word that they had almost complete autonomy in cleaning up the streets (ala Rudolph Giuliani). When such a task is given to even a morally and mentally strong human, unfortunately the human part usually comes out. In such a case either one (the moral or mental) part may collapse to stereotype, greed, or other issues that prey on those who need help to cope with a daily grind. Corruption of these ideals is almost inevitable without something to help cope. No one person is beyond this and only faith and outlets for anger and confusion will stave off the inevitable acquiesce.
When an otherwise normal person succumbs to such pressures, mistakes happen. If you saw Crash, you know what I mean. Being a Protector of the people is not without it's own perils. The pressure becomes almost Dave Chappellian (new word for the atlas-like effort of mounting the task of living up to the expectations of others... in this case the cops live up to societies expectations). Like a kettle of hot water, as the water turns to steam, only the release prevents an explosion. In fact, as of late there have been several incidents in LA, actually that would illustrate this point (look here or here - both are LA Times pages and you have to register).
When you are mentally or morally wounded by something and do not seek help, you leave yourself vulnerable to the thoughts and actions of weak people. I won't give away anything (more) in the movie but the more vulnerable you are, the more likely you are to allow the power given to you to be used in corrupt ways. I mean, look at that Anakin Skywalker! Starting wars all over the galaxy because people have told him that there were (unfounded) threats to the Republic. Thank goodness this couldn't happen in the good ol' US of A!
But I digress. If you can't imagine the Chappellian pressures... imagine countless people expecting you to use your eyes to see events that aren't there yet, to use your mind to know the devil inside people who seems totally normal, to have the strength to save those who cannot be saved or, perhaps, must save themselves. They have to be all things to all people. Then they must be infallible in avoiding mistakes and not allowing people to be seen in as groups but always as individuals. Their need for a release is immediate but their desire to maintain composure usually takes precedence. Which is also good because many times ordinary civilians can't handle the idea that their Protectors are worried. We need our Protectors to be strong... we need them to have a release.
With that said, I live near the National Law Enforcement Memorial and all I can say.. is WHAT THE F*CK?! These damn Protectors are playing their bagpipes at the wee hours o' the morning and acting like fools. You see, readers, starting last week cops from all around the nation have been coming and parking their asses and patrol cars in front and around my apartment building. They're here to celebrate National Police Week and all I have to say is... how ironic is THIS?! These guys party like they might not see tomorrow (oh wait) but seriously, isn't this law memorial weekend thing supposed to be reverent to those who have died in action?
As of now, I have counted them breaking only FIVE laws. The open container law, jaywalking, public drunkenness, noise restrictions, littering en masse, and generally being jackasses. That last one may not be a law, but Sweet Jesus and Friends, it was like they were attempting to break a record in jackasstivity. Damn pigs! (Kidding!) Now I understand what it is to host a Spring Break Week, Black Bike Week, Freaknik or whatever. These cops were extremely obnoxious and then with their blocking off of important streets... my friends, I wanted to kill. Adding on top of all this that they are law enforcement officers (as one could easily tell by the badges around their neck) it was almost unconscionable. (I mean who you gonna call? The COPS?!) Still, I thank my lucky stars because I think they haven't been quite AS bad as last year. And while I do remember the folks last year being almost twice as obnoxious on the bagpipes, last year (they played until, say, 7 in the morning) I appreciate that lately their ruckus usually loses steam around 4 or so. Thank GOD. 3 more hours of sleep. Oh... and they have not thrown nearly as much trash on the ground. Which I did sort of appreciate.
Still, mi amigos, with all that said, remember to be kind to your local cops. Despite what you may or may not think being a cop is often a thankless job. They aren't paid as well as they should and most people just expect them to be there when they need them. It aint that easy. Cops are an important part of keeping law and order, fulfilling Rousseu's "societal contract" and quite frankly it's a job with serious moral and mental repercussions. It may not seem like a big deal to you now but wait till you have something you actually want to protect... like.... kids, perhaps a car that is worth something, or even yourself. And if you think police harassment is bad, wait until they PARTY outside of your DOOR.
(And even then it beats the quiet crackheads that are usually there. Although... they usually are quiet.)
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Late Night Limbo
I forgot I even had this thing. No one really reads so no one should care. Except me. For the few posts I actually posted (I've written a bunch more that I never used) I felt a therapeutic rush come over me as I finalized my posts. A rant released is like, well, to keep it PG, arriving home to a warm PS2 and Chipotle after a long day. I miss it.
And so I am back. I have to come back. I need something else to get me through this semi-charmed kind of life. I think the lack of peeps reading will give me the opportunity to be a total ass on occasion. I kind of like that. Like Conan O' Brian understanding what will change before he takes over the Tonight Show, if I was Leon or Kajuana (just two blogs I read religiously) I would probably feel an overwhelming pressure to be funny. Which is usually around the time where I make my worst attempts at humor... kinda like Jay Leno, when you think about it. As long as I never come off as lame as Carson Daly.
So without further ado, I am coming back... I guess. If you have stumbled across this blog.. well.. I'm sorry. It reeks. Like the Magic Johnson show, this blog has no rhyme or reason. Sometimes serious... occasionally funny... many times,uh, none of the above. And honestly, I'm really funny in person. Really I am. Not so much in type. I apologize. Usually I think of things to write that are serious or seriously silly. I'm not so much for the middle ground. But for you, non-reader, occasionally I'll give it a try. Promise.
And so I am back. I have to come back. I need something else to get me through this semi-charmed kind of life. I think the lack of peeps reading will give me the opportunity to be a total ass on occasion. I kind of like that. Like Conan O' Brian understanding what will change before he takes over the Tonight Show, if I was Leon or Kajuana (just two blogs I read religiously) I would probably feel an overwhelming pressure to be funny. Which is usually around the time where I make my worst attempts at humor... kinda like Jay Leno, when you think about it. As long as I never come off as lame as Carson Daly.
So without further ado, I am coming back... I guess. If you have stumbled across this blog.. well.. I'm sorry. It reeks. Like the Magic Johnson show, this blog has no rhyme or reason. Sometimes serious... occasionally funny... many times,uh, none of the above. And honestly, I'm really funny in person. Really I am. Not so much in type. I apologize. Usually I think of things to write that are serious or seriously silly. I'm not so much for the middle ground. But for you, non-reader, occasionally I'll give it a try. Promise.
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
The ball is tipped
and there you are
you're running for your life
you're a shooting star
And all the years
no one knows
just how hard you worked
but now it shows...
Tomorrow is a holiday and my boss doesn't know it.
Tomorrow is so big, I will admit freely, that even Black History Month didn't have me even close to this excited. I haven't had this much collective umoja with people I don't even know since.. well... Last March?
I have no meetings scheduled tomorrow.
No memos or papers
No obligations.
And I'm almost done clearing out my inbox.
Basically, I am not sure of how much work I will be able to get done.
You should know by now that tomorrow is the start of March Madness. The end in nigh for the young ballers and that means endless plates of wings, multiple fascinating games, and upsets of the highest order.
Yes, it's time for March Madness and... ohhhh, and I am losing my ever loving mind.
But time is short
and the road is long
in the blinking of an eye
ah that moment's gone
And when it's done
win or lose
you always did your best
cuz inside you knew...
A couple of weeks ago I received an invitation to a "reception" marking the beginning of March Madness. Food and flat screen tvs with feeds from all the different games being played at the SAME time. I'm like Michael Jackson at an Elementary School... I can hardly contain myself.
March Madness is easily the best playoffs we have currently. Because of the tourny's ability to take small teams or individual players from anonymity to heros it easily surpasses all other sports in their attempts to garner attention. Because the tourny brings together different regions, cities, colleges and throws them together it fans from all over root for teams they never knew it surpasses all other sports in reinvigorated interest. Because of the many dependable buzzer beaters and last second heroics it surpasses all sports in cultivating excitement. From Christian Laettners crunch time heroics to Chris Webber's epic timeout to Gonzaga's annual upsets the memories from this year's Tourny will last for years.
And it is with that ferver of excitement I write this entry.
Feel the beat of your heart
feel the wind in your face
it's more than a contest
it's more than a race...
And when it's done
win or lose
you always did your best
cuz inside you knew...
Tomorrow marks the beginning of that "one shining moment". And Sweet Jesus, I seriously cannot wait.
and there you are
you're running for your life
you're a shooting star
And all the years
no one knows
just how hard you worked
but now it shows...
Tomorrow is a holiday and my boss doesn't know it.
Tomorrow is so big, I will admit freely, that even Black History Month didn't have me even close to this excited. I haven't had this much collective umoja with people I don't even know since.. well... Last March?
I have no meetings scheduled tomorrow.
No memos or papers
No obligations.
And I'm almost done clearing out my inbox.
Basically, I am not sure of how much work I will be able to get done.
You should know by now that tomorrow is the start of March Madness. The end in nigh for the young ballers and that means endless plates of wings, multiple fascinating games, and upsets of the highest order.
Yes, it's time for March Madness and... ohhhh, and I am losing my ever loving mind.
But time is short
and the road is long
in the blinking of an eye
ah that moment's gone
And when it's done
win or lose
you always did your best
cuz inside you knew...
A couple of weeks ago I received an invitation to a "reception" marking the beginning of March Madness. Food and flat screen tvs with feeds from all the different games being played at the SAME time. I'm like Michael Jackson at an Elementary School... I can hardly contain myself.
March Madness is easily the best playoffs we have currently. Because of the tourny's ability to take small teams or individual players from anonymity to heros it easily surpasses all other sports in their attempts to garner attention. Because the tourny brings together different regions, cities, colleges and throws them together it fans from all over root for teams they never knew it surpasses all other sports in reinvigorated interest. Because of the many dependable buzzer beaters and last second heroics it surpasses all sports in cultivating excitement. From Christian Laettners crunch time heroics to Chris Webber's epic timeout to Gonzaga's annual upsets the memories from this year's Tourny will last for years.
And it is with that ferver of excitement I write this entry.
Feel the beat of your heart
feel the wind in your face
it's more than a contest
it's more than a race...
And when it's done
win or lose
you always did your best
cuz inside you knew...
Tomorrow marks the beginning of that "one shining moment". And Sweet Jesus, I seriously cannot wait.
Monday, March 07, 2005
The Dufrane Theory
Today, in front of the press, Martha Stewart triumphantly announced that she was back in the saddle. She's back to being CEO and HBIC. With a smile that portrayed the relief you can only get from being released from prison she was graceful and masterful. As she skated over the underlying theme of how she had just spent time in the big house she was able to shift the focus on the resurrection of her name and consequently her brand.
For this, quite a few of my female friends have applauded her. She has triumphed.
"She never belonged in there anyway," they'd comment.
"If she had a penis this would have never happened," they exclaimed.
Uh, bitch please.
Two things. Lets not get this twisted... she BROKE the law and (how should I put this...) she aint exactly a part of the typical "wrongly accused crowd". Now don't get me wrong, strong women often get the short end of the stick for being too strong... or even more apt... a bitch. She is a bitch only if that means she is a shrewd businesswoman. She is a bitch only if that means she goes in for the kill and demands her underlings to be as focused on her ideals as she. She is a bitch only if that means she goes after what she wants with the same intensity that has made Bill Gates and Donald Trump multimillionaires.
And while Donald, Bill, and another fav entrepreneur of mine: Magic Johnson get a bad wrap in some circles (real estate, geek and the black social conscience, respectively) as being relentless business pit bulls while a vast majority of this nation has gone against Queen Martha. Well... only if a vast majority means males.
Females, especially alpha females, especially white alpha females have rallied to defend Stewart as a saint. It's like she wasn't guilty of crime or even worth prosecuting. It's almost as if she didn't lie to the prosecutors and attempt to cover up a very public and obvious mistake. It's as if some male would have lied and not had to pay the fine or got jail time or gotten any probation. Not only is this not true... but the problem is Martha Stewart is the better for all of this!
You see.. first off, many of these same women have all forgotten about how they bemoaned the tragedy of OJ Simpson where they talked very badly about how justice didn't work, blah blah blah... and now all of a sudden they wanted a proven criminal to get off because she doesn't have the balls to be a man. See, not only did she commit a crime but then she lied about it which pissed off the US side of US v. Stewart and quite frankly you need to have your shit straight if you are going to get away with a federal crime. Ultimately, she fought (and then lied) to the law and shockingly... the law won.
But in the end, the greatness of my Dufrane Theory comes into play ... Martha gets out serving several months and paying probably one of the lowest white collar fines I have ever heard of and takes back the reins of her company. She becomes the new "Apprentice" mogul and she'll have effectively "crawled through 200 miles of (filth) and come clean out the other side". She went to the big house and came out looking like a star. Now, many of the Anti-Marthites will be satisfied with her time served. Others will be unable to get others to hate her because... well, she's on top despite going to jail and having to endure the life of a criminal.
I'll never pretend to dislike Martha. She's brilliant, tenacious, and she's a leader. She unfairly gets treated as a evil woman the same way Hillary Clinton and other strong women do.. especially if they don't bow down to men who would prefer they be self the centered asshole leaders. Still, should you do the crime... even rich, you might have to do the time. Lets never lose focus on that. Fame can be a double edge sword. If we fail to prosecute and sometimes make examples out of famous people (even if they're our heros) with criminal intent we lose the right to peruse the common man in the same vigor. When that right is lost, the power of law & order is severely diminished and eventually our society will crumble. And THAT would be the real crime.
Friday, March 04, 2005
Babymomma Drama
I haven't been able to update lately (not that anyone really cares) but I just wanted to briefly touch upon THIS:
I hear Brenda's got a baby
But, Brenda's barely got a brain
A damn shame
Tha girl can hardly spell her name
(That's not our problem, that's up ta Brenda's family)
Well let me show ya how it affects tha whole community...
I hear Brenda's got a baby
But, Brenda's barely got a brain
A damn shame
Tha girl can hardly spell her name
(That's not our problem, that's up ta Brenda's family)
Well let me show ya how it affects tha whole community...
Believe it or not there is a new song out dedicated to our beautiful Babymommas.
Using a sample of the sample Jay-Z used for his song December 4th (I believe), this new ode to mommas struggling and raising a child on their own.. is a moving testament to the strength of the single mother.
No, really it's not.
It's awful. Beyond it's unoriginality in thought or artistic nature, if we compare and contrast This new "Babymomma song" to "Brenda's Got A Baby" we see that it is awfully LIGHT in reality and more of a light praise song. Which would be fine... if our community wasn't as devastated as other impoverished communities with rampant wedlock kiddies. The song is like a light ditty about a serious problem. It's actually socially irresponsible. It's ignorant. It's just a bad song. I too would like to praise people who take care of their kids. All of them. And for single mothers... you guys are very strong considering many of you are reminded about some mistake every day. But more than not the baby mom song is not a whimsical ditty because the judgment that got people to baby mommas status was poor and more often than not (especially for the demographic that listens to the radio) the public has to take the pain of this mistake too.
Akin to those people who give shout outs to people in prison lets not glorify or even cheapen the position that single mothers have. While you may not get the sense of this watching Maury try to find the father of countles kids, being a single mother... not a baby momma... is a serious choice. Like the difference between being a Dad and being a biological father, you're a parent now and your drama comes second to the life of that child. Lets be honest, life aint easy but some choices are more serious than others and should be dealt in a manner reflecting such.
Friday, February 25, 2005
Employee o' the Month
Every once and a while I like to lighten the mood with some of my "Leonesque" general observations.
Today, while it is BHM I would like to honor a hard working woman in a tough industry. Actually I am honoring all the women in this industry because a great deal of them work their ass off.
Literally.
Today, I bring you here to honor the prostitutes of DC. Not just any prostitutes but the real unglorified prostitutes who bust their hump (heh) working all year long. There are prissy ones that only work during the summer and can rightly do so. They probably bring in more bang for the bucks (or bucks for the... ah, nevermind). These aren't THOSE strippers.
Yes, it is you I see, Unglorified Stripper, as I drive down L Street. You're working the frigid corner even when the thermometer reads a frosty 25 degrees. Your dedication to putting food on the table and keeping your pimp happy is sadly remarkable. I don't know how you do it. Pimping isn't nearly the force it may have been in the 70s and yet still you make money for them... one john at a time.
Yes, those summertime pros are prettier and usually in better shape. They probably escort in their free time and sometimes try to be video hos. Yes, you are demeaning yourselves (some would say) and breaking the law. But one person’s view of pride and decency differs from another. Certainly, your time could be better spent stripping and doing your hooking from "private dance" rooms. But then without such dedication to quick money your life wouldn't be nearly as exciting.
And SURE, you probably would be better off working for a lowly hourly wage in Wal-Mart while earning actual benefits. But still, here you are, working late into the night as light snow flurries gracefully add a conflicting ornateness to your pimp's SUV. Come sweltering heat, snowfall or sometimes even heavy rain, you are there.
You are there for the poor, the tired, the huddled masses, even the lonely but most definitely the homely. Those that have no self-esteem depend on you. Those with a good health plan or at least a decent free clinic look for you. Those lusting for thrills to validate their boring and eventless existence long for you. And until the burning commences, I am sure you bring a certain instant satisfaction that for what it's worth, probably cannot be measured... possibly duplicated but not nearly as easy... and at such prices!
It is with constant amazement and certain amount of shame I present you... all of you, from Africa and Muffy to Peaches and Xtasee and even you, Zenith... the award for Employee of the Month. You work for little (although negotiable) and end with little (definitely) but OH what a ride.
**DISCLAIMER: I have never and will never endorse or use the services of The Hired Sexual Worker. I would say that some people romanticize such jobs focusing on the sexual power. These kind of people find the job liberating (like some strippers), but I have to acknowledge that usually this minority have issues with their sexual identities. At any rate, I want it to be said that I have learned all this from documentaries (Hookers at the Point) and from watching interactions (and uh, transactions) when I am stuck in traffic during the summer while the blatant and rampant prostitution blocks traffic on L Street for BLOCKS... NOT, I repeat, NOT from talking, fraternizing or using the services of said prostitutes.**
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
This Day in Black History
It must be Black History Month.
Today the DC Lottery has introduced their newest scratch off game honoring the negro league. It's a $5 dollar ticket and you can win up to $50,000 bucks.
This is too much.
It is amazing to me that Black History Month's main corporate sponsors are check cashing places, UPN, fast food, malt liquor, and now lotteries. While I applaud anyone who wants to appeal to black culture (because it helps other enterprises think about doing so) it is ridiculous that these barely veiled marketing attempts are the main corporate supporters of BHM.
Drinking, gambling, and the rip off cashing industries all appeal to society's underclass. While Black people are definitely a part of this underclass we are all but ignored when it comes to say... national elections we are taken for granted and forgotten. These industries prey upon the underclass hoping that their totally ridiculous products aren't exposed for the cheap substitutes for a real solution: WATER or even middle grade alcohol. Saving for prosperity instead of wasting it on chance. Getting a bank account which leads to other wealth building activities. (Savings accounts are like the gateway drug to investing.)
Other industries, such as fast food, appeal across the board but their horrible food is appreciated more by the underclass because the price seems right. Of course the food isn't healthy and it's always cheaper to make your own food. They find with wealth fast food becomes more of a second placating option for soccer moms and parents who want a quick fix to appeal their kids. In our minority neighborhoods, fast food is a lifestyle.
There are some good players in this. Toyota is among several companies who have taken interest in Black communities. Knowing that their products are needed by all they take notice that minorities want a decent car that is reliable. Whoever can show them this car first and with the best pitch is the winner. When you look through a Black Enterprise issue you can finally see some companies that "get it".
As a whole, I am appreciative of any company that would put money into really celebrating BHM by bringing to the forefront Black stars of the past that may have been overlooked by the shadow of MLK or Malcolm X. If the DC lottery had a MLK or Ali game I would be pissed. I guess, as long as some good comes out of it, Black people will have to embrace the efforts of even the cigarette companies as they try to tie their products closer to our people. Sad, but until our pockets of wealth reflect white society closer we still have to make our own opportunities and take the charity of those who invest sincerely in our heritage.
We've come a long way, baby.
Today the DC Lottery has introduced their newest scratch off game honoring the negro league. It's a $5 dollar ticket and you can win up to $50,000 bucks.
This is too much.
It is amazing to me that Black History Month's main corporate sponsors are check cashing places, UPN, fast food, malt liquor, and now lotteries. While I applaud anyone who wants to appeal to black culture (because it helps other enterprises think about doing so) it is ridiculous that these barely veiled marketing attempts are the main corporate supporters of BHM.
Drinking, gambling, and the rip off cashing industries all appeal to society's underclass. While Black people are definitely a part of this underclass we are all but ignored when it comes to say... national elections we are taken for granted and forgotten. These industries prey upon the underclass hoping that their totally ridiculous products aren't exposed for the cheap substitutes for a real solution: WATER or even middle grade alcohol. Saving for prosperity instead of wasting it on chance. Getting a bank account which leads to other wealth building activities. (Savings accounts are like the gateway drug to investing.)
Other industries, such as fast food, appeal across the board but their horrible food is appreciated more by the underclass because the price seems right. Of course the food isn't healthy and it's always cheaper to make your own food. They find with wealth fast food becomes more of a second placating option for soccer moms and parents who want a quick fix to appeal their kids. In our minority neighborhoods, fast food is a lifestyle.
There are some good players in this. Toyota is among several companies who have taken interest in Black communities. Knowing that their products are needed by all they take notice that minorities want a decent car that is reliable. Whoever can show them this car first and with the best pitch is the winner. When you look through a Black Enterprise issue you can finally see some companies that "get it".
As a whole, I am appreciative of any company that would put money into really celebrating BHM by bringing to the forefront Black stars of the past that may have been overlooked by the shadow of MLK or Malcolm X. If the DC lottery had a MLK or Ali game I would be pissed. I guess, as long as some good comes out of it, Black people will have to embrace the efforts of even the cigarette companies as they try to tie their products closer to our people. Sad, but until our pockets of wealth reflect white society closer we still have to make our own opportunities and take the charity of those who invest sincerely in our heritage.
We've come a long way, baby.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Country Roads... Take Him Home.
Karl Malone is my favorite basketball player ever.
I know most people would be ashamed to admit this.. but I'm not. In fact for much of my sports playing life he was almost my IDOL. Well, I am ashamed of that. But who are you to judge?!
Seriously, as he retired on Sunday I feel compelled to say something about my favorite player in the NBA.
The year was 1990 and I finally really GOT basketball. I mean, I loved playing soccer at the time and my baseball career had already faltered as I was placed on waivers by my teeball team. Those bastards didn't even want me in right field. But basketball... I finally got the teamwork and saw the enjoyment in dribbling and shooting. Immediately I started looking for a star to emulate.
I quickly happened upon one Karl Malone. He was big, as I was. He had a fun off balance shot... kinda like I did. Lastly, he was underrated. (This last point would become the bane of my existence.) This guy was like me!
Except he wasn't. He was country, played with all white boys, and was underrated. I mean, everyone KNEW I was great!
So every chance I could I would watch and talk about the greatness that was Karl Malone. While my game got REAALLY good. (I mean really good. I would practice playing for hours on end.. every day. I got really good, really quick.) People quickly tired of my Malone talk. Charles Barkley was the best power forward in the league... why couldn't I figure that out? It was too late. I was a Malone fan. In Malone, I trusted. He never let me down.
He continued to get better... scoring usually only behind the exalted Michael Jordan. He was always in the league top ten in rebounding. He rarely missed games and always made his team better. He would eventually fail in the finals twice against Jordan but that was one more time than Barkley had and quite frankly... he faced the Bulls. They were just always a great team. What can you say?
In the meantime, I was being ridiculed by friends and family alike for defending Karl and his team because they were seen (like Boston) as a white boy team. One of those teams that the NBA likes to have to show that white boys have game too. And while to some degree Utah may have liked to have this kind of personnel, having a good steady guards and a great PF was just a great plan. They had their share of white boys (probably to appeal to their fans to some degree) but they have always had a black player that was their go to guy.
Karl started to collected MVPs and scored the second most points of any player and still he got no respect. People we more concerned with his playing habits such as physical play and losing against Jordan. It was hurtful for me because everyone lost against Jordan and he was never dirtier than any other power forward... most notably, Barkley since he is the easiest one to compare him to.
Look at the stats, look at the accomplishments, look at his record off the court... Malone is as good as Barkley on and while off the court he isn't as loquacious he certainly has a personality and for the most part stayed out of trouble.
Now, I was concerned when I found out about his illegitimate daughter. The fact that he had essentially hidden from this responsibility was a shock and very disappointing. Still, eventually he owned up and became a father. Not just a paying sperm donor like many men, embarrassed to admit that they are wrong. I had to respect this, for we all make mistakes, because he handled it with grace.
As you can imagine... living in LA and rooting for the Jazz wasn't without peril. People wanted to whoop my monkey ass many a time when the Lakers would lose and I would root for the Jazz. One can only imagine the joy as I felt when I realized that Karl was a free agent and the Lakers might want to get the first reliable PF since James "Big Game" Worthy. When my favorite team finally got my favorite player it was like God had granted a my wishes I made back in Jr. High. While, as ya'll know, my dream eventually sagged.. then exploded... I appreciated that he was willing to try to win with the Lakers. He was principled and proud to play for the Jazz, but he wasn't above leaving if it meant a chance at a ring.
In the end, Karl Malone will be overlooked, underestimated, and probably dismissed as people remember the championships of Jordan, the personality of Barkley, the dominance of Shaq, the dead aim (and, yes "Great White Hope-ness") of Bird. But for those who also celebrate those like David Robinson, James Worthy, McHale, and Clyde Drexler... they will not forget Malone. He was a workhorse who gave as much as he took and always delivered his best. And for that, to me he will always be The Mailman.
I know most people would be ashamed to admit this.. but I'm not. In fact for much of my sports playing life he was almost my IDOL. Well, I am ashamed of that. But who are you to judge?!
Seriously, as he retired on Sunday I feel compelled to say something about my favorite player in the NBA.
The year was 1990 and I finally really GOT basketball. I mean, I loved playing soccer at the time and my baseball career had already faltered as I was placed on waivers by my teeball team. Those bastards didn't even want me in right field. But basketball... I finally got the teamwork and saw the enjoyment in dribbling and shooting. Immediately I started looking for a star to emulate.
I quickly happened upon one Karl Malone. He was big, as I was. He had a fun off balance shot... kinda like I did. Lastly, he was underrated. (This last point would become the bane of my existence.) This guy was like me!
Except he wasn't. He was country, played with all white boys, and was underrated. I mean, everyone KNEW I was great!
So every chance I could I would watch and talk about the greatness that was Karl Malone. While my game got REAALLY good. (I mean really good. I would practice playing for hours on end.. every day. I got really good, really quick.) People quickly tired of my Malone talk. Charles Barkley was the best power forward in the league... why couldn't I figure that out? It was too late. I was a Malone fan. In Malone, I trusted. He never let me down.
He continued to get better... scoring usually only behind the exalted Michael Jordan. He was always in the league top ten in rebounding. He rarely missed games and always made his team better. He would eventually fail in the finals twice against Jordan but that was one more time than Barkley had and quite frankly... he faced the Bulls. They were just always a great team. What can you say?
In the meantime, I was being ridiculed by friends and family alike for defending Karl and his team because they were seen (like Boston) as a white boy team. One of those teams that the NBA likes to have to show that white boys have game too. And while to some degree Utah may have liked to have this kind of personnel, having a good steady guards and a great PF was just a great plan. They had their share of white boys (probably to appeal to their fans to some degree) but they have always had a black player that was their go to guy.
Karl started to collected MVPs and scored the second most points of any player and still he got no respect. People we more concerned with his playing habits such as physical play and losing against Jordan. It was hurtful for me because everyone lost against Jordan and he was never dirtier than any other power forward... most notably, Barkley since he is the easiest one to compare him to.
Look at the stats, look at the accomplishments, look at his record off the court... Malone is as good as Barkley on and while off the court he isn't as loquacious he certainly has a personality and for the most part stayed out of trouble.
Now, I was concerned when I found out about his illegitimate daughter. The fact that he had essentially hidden from this responsibility was a shock and very disappointing. Still, eventually he owned up and became a father. Not just a paying sperm donor like many men, embarrassed to admit that they are wrong. I had to respect this, for we all make mistakes, because he handled it with grace.
As you can imagine... living in LA and rooting for the Jazz wasn't without peril. People wanted to whoop my monkey ass many a time when the Lakers would lose and I would root for the Jazz. One can only imagine the joy as I felt when I realized that Karl was a free agent and the Lakers might want to get the first reliable PF since James "Big Game" Worthy. When my favorite team finally got my favorite player it was like God had granted a my wishes I made back in Jr. High. While, as ya'll know, my dream eventually sagged.. then exploded... I appreciated that he was willing to try to win with the Lakers. He was principled and proud to play for the Jazz, but he wasn't above leaving if it meant a chance at a ring.
In the end, Karl Malone will be overlooked, underestimated, and probably dismissed as people remember the championships of Jordan, the personality of Barkley, the dominance of Shaq, the dead aim (and, yes "Great White Hope-ness") of Bird. But for those who also celebrate those like David Robinson, James Worthy, McHale, and Clyde Drexler... they will not forget Malone. He was a workhorse who gave as much as he took and always delivered his best. And for that, to me he will always be The Mailman.
Thursday, February 10, 2005
"Dude, NOT COOL!!"
You know what I LOVE? The best commercial on TV (without the lame Super Bowl pretentiousness) has to be those Geico's Caveman commercials. I just love the way it properly brings attention to the sensitivity issues and all that great stuff. Yeah, it's hilarious.
Uh...But I must say even this 30 second wonderfulness cannot save the relationship between you and I, TV. Yeah, I think it's that time. TV... I'm sorry. I 'm really sorry. There's no other way to say this...I want a divorce.
I know, baby. It's out of the blue... You give and give and give. But you don't realize... you're a succubus. You take without knowing. You steal hours. And more often then naught you give me so little. If it's substance over quantity.. baby, you are lacking. You would have seen my displeasure if you just would really listen to what I have to say instead of listening to your Nielson friends.
Now don't get me wrong TV, I love you for what you have brought to my life. Humor, through The Office and Arrested Development. Insight into the my nation and beyond, though The Discovery Channel and A&E's America Undercover. And nudity through Skinamax and the Super Bowl. Even suspense and excitement through The Wire and But you see, love.. well.. we all must grow up sometime.. and you rarely do.
"Get busy living.. or get busy dying." You told me that quote straight from the mouth of Morgan Freeman. See, you are so full of hidden insight. You're not as dumb as people think you are. For each insipid Desperate Housewife episode you bring us a meaningful and introspective episode of Law and Order. And for every shameless L&O knockoff you bring us something totally original like The Simpsons. For every totally lame and artificial Real World you bring us blushingly raw Single in the City. And the pop culture... oh, all the pop culture. Thank you for keeping me so hip and relevant...
I love you for that.
I understand that it is not your fault that you can be cheap and shallow. I'm sorry.. but you are. Maybe your many other lovers conditioned you to be this way. They wanted entertainment... not to think, not to feel, not to know. I can appreciate that and sometimes I can appreciate the sexy romp of Women on Trampolines like the rest. Alas, it is the 90% of the time where I see something that has been ruined by stagnant ideas (Real World) or ruined by lack of creativity (The Practice) that hurts me. I mean, I don't get mad at the supreme almost confounding faux heart that is put into your America's Top Model. But the worse... no let me talk... but the worse is that you take your best blossoming efforts and undermine them. You often don't let them bloom into beautiful programs that both entertain and challenge us to look and confront our own issues.
Not your fault, again... I know. But you see if we are to ever work on the same level you have to consistently provide me with glimpses of hope. I am often left underwhelmed with a quick hour of my time. Because of this, I need some time for myself. Trust me, it's me.. not you. You haven't changed... I have. Incidentally, for the better... but that's not important now. I'm just not good for you. When I am around you I just don't feel happy.. I'm simply content. I deserve happiness, TV.
And I have found this happiness... in my new love... Internet.
Don't cry.. as dependable as the sun sets, you know I'll be around. You know I won't miss a new season of Sopranos. And look.... in the end... we'll always have... "You're fired."
Uh...But I must say even this 30 second wonderfulness cannot save the relationship between you and I, TV. Yeah, I think it's that time. TV... I'm sorry. I 'm really sorry. There's no other way to say this...I want a divorce.
I know, baby. It's out of the blue... You give and give and give. But you don't realize... you're a succubus. You take without knowing. You steal hours. And more often then naught you give me so little. If it's substance over quantity.. baby, you are lacking. You would have seen my displeasure if you just would really listen to what I have to say instead of listening to your Nielson friends.
Now don't get me wrong TV, I love you for what you have brought to my life. Humor, through The Office and Arrested Development. Insight into the my nation and beyond, though The Discovery Channel and A&E's America Undercover. And nudity through Skinamax and the Super Bowl. Even suspense and excitement through The Wire and But you see, love.. well.. we all must grow up sometime.. and you rarely do.
"Get busy living.. or get busy dying." You told me that quote straight from the mouth of Morgan Freeman. See, you are so full of hidden insight. You're not as dumb as people think you are. For each insipid Desperate Housewife episode you bring us a meaningful and introspective episode of Law and Order. And for every shameless L&O knockoff you bring us something totally original like The Simpsons. For every totally lame and artificial Real World you bring us blushingly raw Single in the City. And the pop culture... oh, all the pop culture. Thank you for keeping me so hip and relevant...
I love you for that.
I understand that it is not your fault that you can be cheap and shallow. I'm sorry.. but you are. Maybe your many other lovers conditioned you to be this way. They wanted entertainment... not to think, not to feel, not to know. I can appreciate that and sometimes I can appreciate the sexy romp of Women on Trampolines like the rest. Alas, it is the 90% of the time where I see something that has been ruined by stagnant ideas (Real World) or ruined by lack of creativity (The Practice) that hurts me. I mean, I don't get mad at the supreme almost confounding faux heart that is put into your America's Top Model. But the worse... no let me talk... but the worse is that you take your best blossoming efforts and undermine them. You often don't let them bloom into beautiful programs that both entertain and challenge us to look and confront our own issues.
Not your fault, again... I know. But you see if we are to ever work on the same level you have to consistently provide me with glimpses of hope. I am often left underwhelmed with a quick hour of my time. Because of this, I need some time for myself. Trust me, it's me.. not you. You haven't changed... I have. Incidentally, for the better... but that's not important now. I'm just not good for you. When I am around you I just don't feel happy.. I'm simply content. I deserve happiness, TV.
And I have found this happiness... in my new love... Internet.
Don't cry.. as dependable as the sun sets, you know I'll be around. You know I won't miss a new season of Sopranos. And look.... in the end... we'll always have... "You're fired."
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Just Starting... be patient...
So here I am going to expose more about my life.. stuff I see.. and how people here up on Capitol Hill are insane.
Funny, people don't realize that this place (Washington DC but especially Cap Hill - Or The Hill) is like working in Hollywood except we have of the moves that are made are as symbolic as they are unpractical.
Social security reform? T'aint happening.
Kill the deficit? Not anytime soon.
Raise salaries for Congressmembers? Probably next month.
So.. holy shit.. it's snowing like crazy... come with me as I take you around a Lil place I call The Hill.
Funny, people don't realize that this place (Washington DC but especially Cap Hill - Or The Hill) is like working in Hollywood except we have of the moves that are made are as symbolic as they are unpractical.
Social security reform? T'aint happening.
Kill the deficit? Not anytime soon.
Raise salaries for Congressmembers? Probably next month.
So.. holy shit.. it's snowing like crazy... come with me as I take you around a Lil place I call The Hill.
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