Here we go again...

So, I've spent the whole day feeling pretty much blah. At least the depression's been kept at bay, but still today was a toughy. As I was listening to my top rated songs on the ole (and it does feel like old, since about a month after i purchased mine they started making them with color screens and video capabilities. Fuckers) iPod. Anyway, I thought the song pretty much summed up how I was/am feeling.

Take Me by Jean Grae

Oh lord, I'm having issues, more deep than American missiles
Shooting commuter planes and filing 'em missions official
I've hit depression hard and started to pick at the scabs
From the scar, I'm a mess addressing pain in a bar, I confess
'Cause all the rest just mar shit, chest in a cast
Feeling urges just to test out a casket, bless me I'm blasphemous
Jesus pass the fifth, I...have to get lit
Masochist self I'm only half of the health I was born with
(Baby) Save me, take me up high like 'dro
But way far past the stars and the sky
I'm blinding pain like I'm a junkie shooting up with
Emotional novacaine, I'm floating provoking the angels to jump me
In Lehman's terms, face been blurred, even early
I scratched crayon in between the holy word I pray on, but still
(Baby) Three gone, and maybe I'm in barren land
God help me, I'm having trouble with your master plan so

Chorus:
(Take Me) Through the shadows of valley of death, God
(Take me) when I'm shooting, taking last breaths hard
(Baby) I want to walk through the valleys praying lord
Will you help me, save me God, won't you tell me, tell me
(Take me) 'Cause I'm losing my faith, bless me
(Take me) 'Cause this world just want to test me

You see this dirty knife on the floor, this chrome nine in my hand
These foul thoughts in my conscious, constantly understand
See we taught to believe if you can touch it and see it, it must
Be real so go believe it. But I've never seen Jesus
I've never seen God, so he's only a thesis
And I'm questioning all these things in my time to depart
I know it's written suicide is giving hell and devils privilege
Only wicked heathens commit it, sin of ages, well fuck it, bring it!
Lately I've been waking early mornings screaming
"Save me," dreams of seven horsemen chasing Jean, hastening speed
So I'm raising the barrel envisioning marrow
Splashed on the wall and polka dotting all my apparel
And maybe, Ginsu blades through skin will slay
And split thin veins instead of loading clips that spray
And if I'm meant to stay, then I'll just pass through the gates
And fall a long way back to Earth, so why don't you just

Chorus

You can see the pain twist my face from a distance
The body's windows glistening red hot from all of the indo
Thinking of my next of kinfolk, my mama
Opening doors, crimson billows spread out on the pillows and floor
I gotta block it out. I'm set on knocking out
Lock and aim and I'm dropping my frame quick when I pop in the brain
And if God's omnipotent, will he slip in and change
And move the pistol so it shoots out of range and the lead whistles
(Baby) Maybe he's just playing; it'll ricochet and cripple me
Strictly for questioning, give me life to the pain
Sickle shaped body bent in the middle, so little
Kids who pass me harass me and giggle. My figure's
Itching to touch on the answers. Hard headed like
Exotic dancers' nipples, picturing the bullets ripping the skin
On the mantle I'm holding, pull back and blow the wick
Right off the candle, throw a kiss and told the world how to focus
So now (take me...take me)

Totally like whatever, you know?

by Taylor Mali

In case you hadn't noticed,
it has somehow become uncool
to sound like you know what you're talking about?
Or believe strongly in what you're saying?
Invisible question marks and parenthetical (you know?)'s
have been attaching themselves to the ends of our sentences?
Even when those sentences aren't, like, questions? You know?

Declarative sentences - so-called
because they used to, like, DECLARE things to be true
as opposed to other things which were, like, not -
have been infected by a totally hip
and tragically cool interrogative tone? You know?
Like, don't think I'm uncool just because I've noticed this;
this is just like the word on the street, you know?
It's like what I've heard?
I have nothing personally invested in my own opinions, okay?
I'm just inviting you to join me in my uncertainty?

What has happened to our conviction?
Where are the limbs out on which we once walked?
Have they been, like, chopped down
with the rest of the rain forest?
Or do we have, like, nothing to say?
Has society become so, like, totally . . .
I mean absolutely . . . You know?
That we've just gotten to the point where it's just, like . . .
whatever!

And so actually our disarticulation . . . ness
is just a clever sort of . . . thing
to disguise the fact that we've become
the most aggressively inarticulate generation
to come along since . . .
you know, a long, long time ago!

I entreat you, I implore you, I exhort you,
I challenge you: To speak with conviction.
To say what you believe in a manner that bespeaks
the determination with which you believe it.
Because contrary to the wisdom of the bumper sticker,
it is not enough these days to simply QUESTION AUTHORITY.
You have to speak with it too.

I really like this poem... kids are cool

This poem by Nia Davis, a 17-year old junior at Northeast High School In Philadelphia, appears in Poetic Life, Davis' prize-winning play, which was produced by the Philadelphia Young Playwrights. The play is about a group of young women grappling with stereotypes.

"I Wanna"

I wanna hear a song not written to lower someone's self-esteem

I wanna live in a world where reality doesn't cut down on a colored kid's dream

I wanna write a poem where lyrically wise it's ahead of its time

I wanna go back to the days when you thought you were rich even when u didn't have a dime

I wanna be appreciated and loved not overlooked and shoved

Onto a bookshelf, where only the old and the worthless are placed

I wanna be proud to be black, and not ashamed to show my face

I wanna walk around a store and not be expected to steal

I wanna have people not give judgment and try to understand how I feel

I wanna be free

I don't wanna hear your opinions on what you think I should be

Just let me be me

That's how GOD intended it to be

You see

I wanna turn on the news without seeing something bad

Because in reality the news people are making money off of you being sad

I wanna be able to eat French fries all day

But instead I gotta worry about what my butt and thighs are going to say

I wanna live life to the fullest

Instead of turning corners and dodging bullets

I wanna be able to cross the street without having a drunk driver hit me

Walk through and alley without having a hormonal man rape me

I wanna be able to save all the children who don't have childhoods

Substitute reality for all the hopes in the hoods

Put food on the table

Knock down all negative labels

Love and be loved

Hug and be hugged

I wanna live in a world where racism wasn't even a thing of the past

And that the people in the white sheets never torture the people who sung free at last

I wanna live in a world were the name of your god doesn't matter

And the hearts of the tsunami victims weren't shattered

I wanna not have to write a poem where I have to say what I wanna do

I want good things to happen because they're suppose to

I wanna finish this poem and have it touch your heart

I wanna see families stay together and never fall apart

Most of all I want this world to be a better place

Where people are looked at from their inside and not just their face.

Hierarchy of Missing People

On Wednesday morning there was some minor breaking news. A pair of brothers had been missing for a few hours. The news reported that the brothers may have wondered off and no foul play was suspected. On Thursday, the same thing. And on Friday, the same thing: two brothers missing, no foul play suspected. It wasn't until Saturday morning that the news started to say police suspect foul play may be involved in the disappearance of the two brothers.

Did I mention that the children in question are four and two years old??? Since when does a four year old and a two year old go missing for multiple days before "authorities" decide foul play may be involved? The answer, when the two kids are Native American.

I mean, seriously, what the fuck? Did they think the kids were hot on the trail of a herd of wild buffalo? Maybe they had decided to go on a vision quest? I dunno. Heck, maybe it being the time of year when all Americans give thanks (and especially the Native Americans: thanks for the displacement, and the disease, and oh yeah, thanks especially for eradicating a whole civilization) maybe the kids wondered off to find some white people they could lend a hand to. I bet that's what happened.

Anyway, this whole thing got me thinking about the hierarchy of "missing persons" and "foul play". Basically, the higher you are on the social economic totem poll (sorry for the bad pun) the shorter you have to wait before foul play is suspected. For example: if you're a 20 year old white girl and no one has seen you in eight or ten hours, you'll be considered missing and foul play will automatically be assumed. Matter of fact, when I was in college, my friend Erica took a nap at the library after her 8AM class and the National Gaurd was on campus before lunch time. Simply amazing. Then there's a steep drop-off as to when a person will be considered missing, let alone have foul play brought into the equation. If you're black and younger than seven, you won't be considered missing until channel 6 news is running a story on your distraught family. If you're older than seven, well, you might just be S.O.L.

Apparently for Native American children the cut off age is two. That's right two years old. If you're Native American and older than two, you will definately be S.O.L. And I don't care how well you can track or be one with the earth. When a kid is two (or even four, for that matter) and no one's seen or heard from them for more than a day, it's time to think about missing with foul play. Shit, not even baby Locke and Sayid could go as long as these kids went without someone thinking "maybe there's something not quite right here."

Well, I can't wait to see how much press this story doesn't get. I'll try to keep up this story, but I'm pretty sure some teenaged, upper-middle class white girl will decide to take an impromptu ski weekend and everyone will forget about the little lost Native american kids.

21 and up to open it up

Every time my mom has ever seen me drinking (alcohol) she acts like it's the first time she's ever seen me drinking. This was kind of cute at first, until I realized that she wasn't acting. Now I find it a bit disturbing. I'm pretty sure ten years from now we'll look back on these moments as the doctors ask us if there were any warning signs for my mom's Alzheimer's-slash-dementia that we might have picked up on. Of course we'll all nervously chuckle and say no, none what so ever. Except I'll be thinking, well, now it all makes perfect sense. Here's to the future.

Well, my mom and Aunt Rachel were sitting down to glasses of wine (as they've been known to do after dinner... and before dinner... and during dinner... and well, pretty much any time they can come up with an excuse for a glass of wine) and I decided to crack open a cold one. As I sit down and start sipping my suds, my mom says to me, "How is it? I don't think I've ever seen you drink." I replied, "Um, you asked me that the last time you saw me drink, and also the time before that. It's ok."

"Well," she said, "I remember when you were little and would beg your dad and me for a taste. Was it worth the wait?" I kind of found this funny since I had been drinking since sophomore year in high school, so yeah... huge wait.

"Oh, it definitely is!" was how I replied. Then I quickly turned to my 14 year old sister and told her "But in your case, it taste horrible and you should never drink alcohol till you're at least 21. Or can do it without Mom and Dad finding out." My sister thought that was hilarious, Mom and Aunt Rachel, not so much.

I just think it's so cute that A: my parents pretend I didn't start drinking until I was 21 or B: they actually didn't know about any of the drinking I did before turning 21. See what being the good kid'll do for you? God bless older siblings. And with the way the world works, my sisters prolly started drinking like four years ago, but whatareyagonnado, huh?

Greens-friggin-boro, North Carolina

Ahhhhhh, Greensboro North Carolina. My home town. The city that has made me the man-child I am today. Can you smell that??? Go ahead and inhale deeply. That's the scent of southern hospitality. Oh, and that slightly sulfuric odor? That's just racism; you'll get used to it.

I had almost forgotten just how damn boring Greensboro is. And when you don't have a car to get around in... I'm surprised that the suicide rate in children under 16 isn't much, much higher. Or the homicide rate. God, I would kill for a set of wheels right now.

I guess you know your home town is kinda country when the big news from the past year is they've torn down a grocery store to make way for a strip mall... relax, the grocery store was replaced, after all, this isn't Philly. Folks round these parts like not having to get all their essential living supplies from a black plastic bag via the corner store. But still. Not a whole lot going on.

The movie theater where I had my first job has been turned into a Bounce University. Basically, they filled the space with inflatable games we used to rent when ever the housing staff wanted to have an outdoor event, except now you can do all that stuff indoors. Take THAT Mr. Raincloud! I mean, I know I would much rather pay gross amounts of money to enjoy jumping around on plastic devices than pay $2 to see a movie that's already been out for like 50 months, but maybe that's just me. Oh, wait, no. I was being sarcastic. Bounce U. God, I hope this thing doesn't last more than a year. And you owe me, God, after I killed that guy and you still failed to deliver me some wheels. Bastard.

Anyway, I watched Sky High with my sisters earlier today. I know what you're thinking. CORNY!!! And you're right. It's family fun time corny. Which as my good friend Martha says, "Is a good thing. A very good thing." So it's worth checking out. Sky High. Next up is V for Vendetta. Clearly, I have nothing better to talk about in my life right now. That's usually a good sign that I should stop talking.

Goodnight to all and to all a good night.

Giving Thanks

Today was Thanksgiving. This means today and the next few days afterward will be mandatory family time. Now, I have no problem with family time, I also have no problem with mandatory family time, just, does it have to be so much in one dose? Even though the road my parents and I have traveled down has been bumpy at times, I can honestly say I love them, but I swear to God if I have to spend more than 24 hours with them in an enclosed environment, well, one of us is gonna have to die. This isn't to say I'm gonna stick them in a home the first chance I get, it just means that when/if they do end up at the old folks center, don't expect me to visit... much.

Actually, this year wasn't so bad. We did some eating and I amused the fam with the latest volume of "not quite right" teaching stories. For example: a student who I met two years ago just showed up back at Fitzsimons after a year and a half absence. He was apparently incarcerated for rape (although, he didn't do it, of course. Says the student. You know how the police be). He still only comes to school about once a week and oh, yeah, he's a 17 year old freshman. Some thing's just not quite right. Anyway family time is very tiring and I'll have to write more tomorrow. Right now I'm going to bed. Just wanted to get the first post under my belt. Tune in... laterish. Same bat time, same bat channel.