You never know till you get there. And by there I mean home.

So I have FINALLY reached home...and have literally slept around the clock. As a result from all of my hard work and misdeeds during the semester, my body and my brain were like 'Oh life? Things to do?? No thank you." Which I will respect. For the time being. But I had one of the most interesting rides back from Oberlin to NJ in a very long time. What was really interesting was that I have known the guy I rode with since my freshman year...yet never really got past the whole "let's get to know you" level. And it turns out, our perspectives on life/life in Oberlin, relationships, who you are and what you do were very similar. Both of us talked about what it means to grow as a person in Oberlin, and how some folks don't necessarily want to...or as this friend pointed out, take a completely different approach than I do. Which was really respectful to hear. Granted- this hasn't been the first time that I heard this but it was still important to hear it again (besides...I'm a Virgo...and stubborn as hell. Leave me be...).

Which got me thinking about this past semester. I will honestly say that I am glad that it is over. But surprised that I went through it...and managed to come through with grace (for the most part), people that surprised me with support, honesty, and friendship that I only hoped about. But I also expected and got what I have been accustomed to...people that play with your emotions, folks who lie, and folks who do so and know better and some that don't. This semester was tumultous...full of emotions that I learned to become reacquainted with. Whether for the better or for the worse I haven't figured out yet. It's hard to take a look at yourself- even when you do it as often as I do. Especially cause you keep changing everyday and that is unbelievable.

I feel like I spent a lot of this semester trying to pick up the pieces so to speak. Except at a certain point they seemed to be everyone else's but my own. And attracting things that are not the most positive for me. But then there were other times when the world seemed to be right in line with what I needed spiritually and what I needed to do. And damn it to all those that picked up that essence I was trying to keep for myself. The no good lazy snake-in-da-grass fools (lol...extra Caribbean moment there). But with that being said...I am slowly and stubbornly reconizing that the Universe gives you gifts and puts you through things that you need to get to where you should really be. That is...only if you decide to look towards grace. I'm sure someone wiser than myself said 'You never know where you're going until you get there'. Hopefully we'll all just be happy when we arrive....

So it all started with a napkin see....

I wrote this for QueErotica poetry that happened last at the Edmonia Lewis Center for Women and Transgendered (in Oberlin for those not there or associated). First I should say that the ELC is an AMAZING space to critically think about queerness, identification, education, gender politics, and etc. I was sitting in DeCafe...and wrote this on a napkin, at six pm. I would like to say that I did in fact keep the napkin. I'm still trying to work on a Title for this piece...so far I'm thinking 'Making 'Love' To Gunshots.' Please let me know what you think/what you'd suggest...

Girl I wanna have straight SEX with you

  I wanna Fuck you till your eyes bleed
And your hands go numb by the sound of my voice.

Cause You see 
Girl I wanna have straight SEX with you

So that I can look down at you
With my dick in my hand
And nothing but redemption in my voice.

Nah how about

Girl I wanna have straight SEX with you

The kind where you’d find
Heaven and Earth blend together
So that our Middle Earth erupts
To the sounds of trumpets and gunshots.

Because while our battle for who's gonna stay on top
Starts in the bedroom
Our war explodes out into the streets

Like the hot sticky part of you
You pretend to save for me.

With eyes slammed shut to the reverberations
Of my ooos and your aaaahs

They morph emphatically into
BOOMS and
AAAHs run fast from the place as they throw…
Grenades through our windows.

Because I decided to take a chance and love you as I am

And you with you ass up in my face
You glance back at me not only with a look
Of UR-GEN-CCCY that tells me to

FUCK. YOU. FASTER

But I know you took me as you were…
Laid out and pointing North to the Promise land.

Cause having straight Sex with you girl is more
About the need to fuck up your insides as much as you
Squeezed my heart
Cause you knew I secretly loved it.

Banging on the walls from Sundown to Sun up so loud
We can’t decipher the noise as they
Beat down the door and shot “Come out”

And you scream
As you wrap your legs around my back
Like you were the snake and I so happened
To be the tree that bore Original Sin
And I told you to eat that forbidden fruit.

Eat it up with your face, your hands, your soul
And let the juices roll off your tongue
And drip down into the ground
So that like the rain flowers start to bloom.

Cause having straight SEX with you
Is almost like trying to find a home
Buried underneath rubble and I
Stumble and bruise my hands on the crooked rocks and the
lines of your body.

Cause if having straight Sex with you girl means
  I have to cut my feet and tear my clothes

Cause if 
having straight Sex with you girl means
Trying to run over rocks and broken Malitof cocktails and chain fences….

I would have straight Sex with you till I passed out naked
Still wrapped around your fingertips

Sometimes it takes a minute...or twelve.

This is a poem that I had been working on for the past month or so. It was something that I couldn't finish or maybe even wasn't supposed to get "finished". Maybe it'll always be a work in progress.  *Shrug* Who knows these days....

The Mother Tree

With...

Big lips. Thick hips

A smile like the Sunrise

she announces to the world

"I was born today"

Her name:Vigilence

Her scent: Aspiration

Looking up and out to the sky

She holds steadfast to the echos

of Spirits and the fight

to ease her soul and dry her tears.

With the pleads of mothers and daughters

Sisters and aunties

Grandmother and sister lovers

she breaks

the temptation to despise herself.

Her essence: Tribulation

Her destination: Salvation

Knowing that when she walks she carries

the heavy burden of a thousand lifetimes

of regret.

Because she's lived every one.

The wrong word to say.

The wrong way to look today.

The wrong way to act.

The refusal to fight back.

Be it fight back the tears that could even 

wash away the sky or the 

hands that creep up her thigh to 

Conquer what temporal invaders say

"This shit is rightfully mine".

Or the nobility etched from the finest onyx

that bathes her skin in the softest

Midnight the world would pray for a chance to see.

One that grazes her with the meaning of life.

Or was that heartache?

Either way she continues to find herself

whispering to the Mother Tree 

that somehow gave her breath

as the roughness tickles her spines

and combs her hair.

So the leaves with their tender laughter

they dress her so that her soul 

Reads: Eternal

and yet her eyes 

Radiate: Defiance.

My there has been so much....

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSOOOOOOOOOOOOO much has been going on. So a quick rundown is in order:
- I have tonsillitis, again. Sucks so hard it bites....BIG TIME
- I'm really tired
- My sister had knee surgery recently and I worry day and night

However, even in bed my sister is a mover and shaker. Here is a recent project she is working on:

Jiggly Boo Dance Crew is putting out the call for dancers/movers who identify as having a "non-traditional" dancer’s body, specifically a "fat"* body.

JBDC is a much needed project for exploring the intellectual and creative potential of the fat dancing body. Within the Western performance context, fat bodies are systematically excluded or typecast into demeaning or ancillary roles.

Within this framework, Jiggly Boo Dance Crew will run a series of workshops which will culminate in a performance. These workshops will create a space in which other self-identified female “fat” dancers, movers, and performers, can dialogue about the following questions: What is a "fat dancing body"? How are fat bodies read, understood, felt (emotively and viscerally) and represented? What does it mean to identify oneself as a “fat dancing body” and what are the political implications of identifying oneself as such? How can (re)presentations of fat dancing bodies be understood alongside critical discussions of race, gender, sexuality, and the political movement of bodies that have been traditionally marginalized and invisibilized within Western stage dance?

Through these workshops, which will build towards a final performance, we hope to personalize and politicize the fat dancing body and the fat dancer. Jiggly Boo Dance Crew hopes to re-write and re-imagine these scripts of the fat dancing body. We are neither invisible, nor hyper-visible objects of ridicule.

Workshops will be based on movement, academics, as well as the participants' personal experiences as dancers. By marrying readings from fields such as fat studies; critical race theory; gender, sex, and sexuality studies; (dis)ability studies; and dance and performance studies with sessions that emphasize movement, gesture, and performance, we will create a space that views theory and praxis as mutually informative and necessary for achieving our goals.

Potential participants need not have had “formal” training, and may come from any kind of movement/dance background. JBDC will meet weekly on Sundays from January 24, 2010 until April 18, 2010 from 4-6pm. Workshops will be held on the NYU campus.

*On the usage of “fat”: Jiggly Boo Dance Crew intentionally reclaims and uses the word "fat" as opposed to other euphemisms (i.e. "plus-sized" or "big-boned") to explore the politics of size-deviant bodies. Our reclamatory gesture also pays homage to area studies, such as queer studies, that have viewed the reappropriation of words as part of a larger political process of creating visibility and challenging hegemonic discourses and systems of oppression.

Interested? You should be. Living in the TriState area? Check it out. Email JigglyBooDanceCrew@gmail.com for more info and questions...cause I can't answer them..

It took a million miles to get here....so what the hurry to rush back???

So I've been home for about four days now (and am leaving today back to Oberlin), and had Thanksgiving with my family for the first time in maybe two years. It's amazing how a house can still feel so familiar above all else. I guess that the only thing that I really have to talk about is what I might be thankful for. On my facebook status I wrote about being thankful for drops of clarity that sometimes happen. But it makes me wonder if I've "grown up" enough to know when those happen? An honest reflection of myself makes me sometimes feel like I don't really know when or what to do. But that's okay. It's okay to fumble in the dark for a bit...trying to find the lightswitch. It's okay to not know your direction...so you have to sit down for a minute and think about life. I'm trying to get to that point of knowing/understanding that one has to take a minute if that makes any sense. But then again maybe...me knowing this about myself, that I am sometimes not comfortable with not knowing what to do is that moment of clarity. And that I shouldn't really have to try to be comfortable-maybe I should just be.

Here and Back again

So this past weekend I went out to NY with the Crew (D.Diaspora) for some heavyduty dance classes and Capoeria training with our mestre. On the drive back to Oberlin, I had been doing some thiniking about life and the happenings. Let me first say that ever time I come back from NY...I start to care for Oberlin a little bit. Something I'm working on but still. (I always feel different after trips like this when I'm back in the NY/NJ area) Amyways...I'd been thinking (always a bad sign) and I wonder if everyone including myself have the tendency to blur what they hear into what they want to. I've been noticing alot that I may be doing that...like I was giving a sign that said 'Hey...this is what was for reals said' and I just chose to close my eyes. After having been in the same situation more than once, I start to wonder if it's me that puts out the 'confused' sign. I'm not just talking about relationships, but I'm talking about what it really means to listen and connect with someone. Like when was the last time you for real listened to what someone was saying- and not counter it with something that happened to you? Or when was the last time you really just sat down and thought with yourself. Not about yourself but with yourself- as in you started to understand what 'you' in a situation do/did and you work it out for yourself. Like how can you better yourself and everything around you.

Tonight's the Night (gonna hit the scene???)

So tonight in Oberlin there will be the first (or at least I think) Poetry Slam[fest] with a whole lot of Spoken word and slammers from Cleveland and elsewhere on campus...

I think I may do it. And not that I need a reason, but here's why.

A lot of times I find it hard to articulate myself like this. Just writing. And performing. I've written poetry and songs for a long time...and now I'm starting to wonder if it's time to start performing. I mean yeah I might perform an impromptu song or two at Soul Session or something like that...but for some reason, this feels different. Maybe cause it's actually the first time that I would perform something that is written. Permanent. Already forever out in the universe that has some part of me in it/around it. With Soul Session it's like whatever I did I not only don't remember too well, but never seemed 'mine' to begin with because I never wrote it down. So with this being said...wish me luck. There are already some folks in the atmosphere that want to cut me off at the knees. So maybe this is a way of saying "f*ck you".

Stardust

With eyes wide open

the girl looks up into the midnight.

And as she searches for her family to help

illuminate the pastures of this destiny 

she was asked to forfill-

if only it was because it was etched line by line in her palm.

So as the lines that divide the heart, the head and the life

split catastrophically

Only to re collide like a supernova

She wonders if she should bask in the glory of the stardust

that rains down from the sky

As the particles stick to her skin like kisses

or like a new hope.

With eyes bigger than the stars 

she hopes to lose the clouded visions of public affirmation

When she knows it should start from the self.

The self.

Something she doesn't realize that would inspire her beyond the point 

of Recognition

but close to the point of Salvation.

So as her destiny that is etched in the palm of hands

gently grasp towards the sky

She loses herself in the oblivion of learning to understand herself

Line by line.

Despite what you heard....this...is No SAD DIVA....

So last night was the opening night of Dance Diaspora's (the West African dance group I work with) 'SAD DIVAS: Why I Sang da Song'z I Sang' dance show which I am apart of. It was pretty good! There are alot of things that could've been better...but there's only so much you can do the night of the show. I tried to get rest...but you know how Virgos get sometimes...just keep thinking and finally get overrun with thoughts and such. I'm trying really hard not to get caught up in crazy- courtesy of some beautiful people I know that keep me more grounded than I let on or realize. Few times in my life I get confused about the things that are happening, what the universe has given me (and sometimes snatched right back cause they thought I wasn't giving it due attention), and they just happen to understand my need to analyze EVERYTHING....(oh great baby Jesus in a manger.)

But anyways...I am currently listening to Sade's 'King of Sorrow'. I'm kinda intrigued that this was the song that started to play while I was writing this post. It was surprisingly uplifting despite it's initial message. 

     

Lyrics:

I'm crying everyone's tears
And there inside our private war
I died the night before
And all of these remnants of joy and disaster
What am I suppose to do
*
I want to cook you a soup that warms your soul
But nothing would change, nothing would change at all
It's just a day that brings it all about
Just another day and nothing's any good
*
The DJ's playing the same song
I have so much to do
I have to carry on
I wonder if this grief will ever let me go
I feel like I am the king of sorrow, yeah
The king of sorrow
*
I suppose I could just walk away
Will I disappoint my future if I stay
It's just a day that brings it all about
Just another day and nothing's any good
*
The DJ's playing the same song
I have so much to do
I have to carry on
I wonder will this grief ever be gone
Will it ever go
I'm the king of sorrow, yeah
The king of sorrow
*
I'm crying everyone's tears
I have already paid for all my future sins
There's nothing anyone
Can say to take this away
It's just another day and nothing's any good
*
I'm the king of sorrow, yeah
King of sorrow
I'm the king of sorrow, yeah
King of sorrow

Fall, Winter....and everything in between.

I have all of these bombarding feelings running around in my head. And I've been so busy trying to get everything in my life straightened out. Not like it's a mess or anything...but sometimes Oberlin has this way of making you forget about yourself and who you are and what you are really supposed to be doing. And I'm not even talking politically or academically. I mean in terms of just figuring out how to do you. We say it alot....but don't do it. Or maybe that's just me. But anyhow it's like with the change in the season, there is a change of pace. Like the world sped up or something. I can't tell if this is me missing home or not. Or me trying to look through the tree branches to the sky.

I couldn't figure out the right words today....

I can't wash away this uncertainty

no matter how often I take a bath.

As I bathe in the waters of my

rapidly rippled thoughts that are

linked together by moments of

debilitation.

Because you see,

I can't help but see the reflection of myself

when I no longer have an excuse

to stop myself from looking.

Looking deep into the waters that hold the film

of all my past loves,

past pain, and past hopes that never made it past

the edges of my eyes.

Where I could finally stop transposing what could not happen

and what painfully did onto

the sponge that tries to wash away the grime of

prolonged solitude.

I'm scared.

You see I'm scared of drowning,

of drowning in the tolerance that waves off of you

that is the same reflection that I see in myself.

Past the coating of self doubt.

I can't seem to wash away the dreams that are laced

fragrantly onto my skin like dew drops on the leaves

after the rain.

As I try to catch but the few droplets in my cupped hands,

I try to believe in the fact that as you hold the spronge

onto my back and gently scrub away the crust

of inbalance, of misdirection

of lost faith

and haphazard emotions too absurd to pick apart,

I begin to slip forward with my palms

face down on the water

breaking threw a haze I once saw myself in.

Rain Rain go away...then again maybe not.

I was always that kid who loved the sound that rain made when it rumbled and bum-rushed to ground. Like I would stand in front of my window and wonder the largeness of the world. I always found that those were the best times to get to know yourself. Inside and out, cause that's what it's all about.

Uh....yup. Another one. Let's just call it a case of the traveling bug...

I am having so much fun writing. More then I have in a really REALLY long time. The past two days I've been traveling, so maybe I finally let myself work with the words that I have been trying to say. I'm currently in Kentucky...so let's see what happens. Please enjoy.

A Load of Dreams

So they say that the souls
of all those that cried before me were written
underneath my eyes.
That I would have to
Look
beyond the scope of what I know
to finally find what I believe.
That...
the souls of those who were broken before me
never sought for more then justice- an appeal.
To carry out the words and the beat that
was everlasting in the hearts of their mothers and fathers
that bore them.
As they all bore me.
As they
whisper into my ears the cries of retribution and as they
gently kiss
my eyelids to make me see the
Denied
Unvalidated
Dismissed
Memories and Dreams
that envelop me as I try to shift through
my own.
Because now I can't figure out what was mine
and what were theirs.
But their blood flows through my veins
and my heart echos the pounds and patter of their woes.
My feet mirror the callouses that carried them to a place
unknown,
even though my
Paradise
is different.
My hands hold onto these dreams tight with the fierceness
that also gripped their
Chipped
Cracked
weapons that carved their own path.
And as the souls of those before me
Call me
Claim me
I must take up those
Dreams and memories that haunted them
and make them what may save me.

Who knew the motherf'in bus was so inspiring???

I wrote this poem coming back on the bus from a John Brown tour in Harper's Ferry WV to Oberlin. I was inspired by a lot of things....like all the sleep I got on the bus, people I know who do some slam poetry, and John Brown's resistant nature, and the dream I started to have of me performing this one day....

Fortitude

I clutch for your hands
the way angels of justice riding down from the
sky
wield their swords with Strength. Fortitude.
I cling to you as I
swallow and search for the magnanimity that will
surround me like the agency of
my mother's womb.
I yearn for your spirit that will
ride me off into the waves of
redemption
Though I know not how to swim.
I ache for you like you were the hailing sign to render me
with the knowledge that I
am woman enough to be.
To be my own sign.
That I am the compass that will go off and collide
with what shall not stand.
Nor continue.
My head reaching North up into the heavens
where I will feel the strength of the Queen reign
high and mighty.
My feet turned South into the ground where the
Blood
Sweat
Tears
Devotion
Mercy
Strength
Fear
Loyalty
Love
Beauty
Righteousness
Heartache
Belief
the Baggage
of my people whose buried footsteps I follow for survival.
In it.
My arms that rise to the East and the intensity
of the Sunfire that burns deep between my legs
and heart
to supply my totality and fury
that the dark side of the moon
with her sweet kiss
shall cool my blood as she sets in the West.
Because I am a child,
I am a child,
I am my mother,
I am my mother's child,
I am Mother Nature's child
with my hips like tree trunks I will
root my feet deep within the Earth
and point myself to my destination
written into the lines of
my skin
and throughout the curled strands of my cropped hair.
Perhaps with the heat and fervor I clutched
clung
and yearned for you
I can walk steadfast
forward with
Grace
Wisdom
Fortified.

Please enjoy.

The Universe has a cruel sense of humor I tell ya.

This week....has been so painful.

I seriously have had the same headache for the past four days. Right behind my left eye and the back of my head. But also, just emotionally and mentally, I have just been wondering what the hell has been going on in my life. Knowing shit happens to me in threes, the Universe played a game of 'Third-time's-the-charm-to-make-her-lose-it'. I say....that...was fantastically rude.

So right now, I am listening to Marvin Gaye. Who surprisingly had much underrated wisdom. This is how I'm feeling. Lyrics, rhythm and everything. Speaking of...Because of the past week or so, I have gotten seriously reacquainted with Gaia (woohoo for comebacks!). Yeah...it has been one of those weeks.

Call me Super Trooper....Blinding as the Sun.

Today was a hard day. Yes in terms of work...but also in terms of life sh*t. I got caught up and my emotions ran away from me like they were running to beat the devil or something like that. I kept getting text messages from someone who said they cared about me as a friend, yet on the flip side wouldn't speak to me for weeks at a time...or until it was convenient for them. And to make matters worse, is that I explicitly asked them not to text or call me anymore...cause I'm not having that in my life anymore (I'm too good for that). But then they really asked me what they did wrong? It makes me wonder...

Is everyone that callous? Or do I just have 'sucker' written on my forehead?

My answer: I do not. And there probably are people who will forever be dipsh*ts.

Solution?: Kick the bitches ass. Just kidding!!!!! Seriously though...chuck'em out like old underwear. It's time for some serious support.

Uh...mental health day? Sure...why not.

So I guess I took a what one may call a mental health day, meaning I didn't go to my one class of the day. And by Jove it was magnificent. I did laundry and other mundane ass stuff that I have done in so long. Like clean my room. But I was surprised by how much I needed it. It was just hard to want to get up this morning...and the reason why? I sat down to think about it. It's cause I just wasn't really in the mood to deal with anyone. I mean I engaged with folks yes, well, cause I'm human just like you and have to in order to survive (in theory). But I didn't have to deal with anyone's shit but my own (except at 6:50 this morning cause my resident got locked out). And you will be surprised how much of the whole world seeps into your skin and hair and bones. Just weighing you down. So it felt good to just be by myself, and talk to my sister.

Now I can almost say I'm ready for tomorrow. Hopefully...

An homage to Fall? A poem

I feel like I'm walking around with this feeling.
Like I'm walking around with air pumped between my skin,
cause I can't remember what it feels like attached.
A gap where something moves inside it, but can't quite get out.
Feeling too much
I get lost in the sensation.
The tingle-
of trying to figure out where that feeling comes from.
Is it my heart? My head?
Does it come from my tummy or between my legs?
It's not hot
or cold,
making me shiver though is always the goal though.
See I've had this feeling,
this shift
a danger?
The door opening up wide to let some thing in.
A ghost?
Clarity?
I thought with it came a sense of relief,
Purpose.
Instead....I keep getting this fracture
of body, mind
To the point where I can't tell if it's because it is me
that is the door,
or the gap between my skin
this ghost thing
or the change itself.

It's all apart of the growth process...I promise

Sometimes I wonder if college is really a waste of time. Or rather...if it is a waste of really good energy that can be used to serve better things. I haven't figured that out what those "better things are" yet, but a while ago I was talking to an OC grad and we both kinda verbalized that college has in fact made you dumber in a lot of ways. Like how to confront your peers and challenges sans passive aggressiveness. Or how to feel empowered...truly empowered and not the manufactured, doctored kind Liberal Arts intitutions and degrees think we get. Or how to just be efficent with the tools you have.

I say this cause I've started misspelling the most obvious words...and have started to forget how to articulate a point concisely. Random I know...but hey...this is me who's talking.

Anyways...I really do wonder what my degrees are going to do for me. Especially cause I have a life plan that is completely different from what I planned in mind. But I guess the whole...life falling apart business is apart of the growth process.

I'm been really tired as of late- cause I've just been busy. I will finally admit to myself and everyone else that I am in fact...a workaholic. - Insert shrug -. It can't be helped. With parents and a sister like mine...one must be on their toes all the time. - Insert crouching fight stance-.But with this sense of tiredness, I've been registering this sense of change. It's almost like a ringing in your ears but gentler. I feel like something really big and possibly life changing is about to ensue. I can't tell if it will be a good thing or not. Maybe it's the fact that fall has come. Or maybe it's something else entirely....

Compromises...debauchery...and the like.

WARNING: Content contains personal information. please be advised.

I went out last night and realized that there were in fact many people who have what brown folks call 'played me'....i.e. just make you feel like a game piece. Not even like chess...think checkers. Anyways, during my outing, I noticed that I was being ignored. In the way that makes you feel like you don't amount to anything...like your time isn't worth jack. And I have never been so angry and ready to show it in my whole life. I mean..I know Jersey girls are crazy, and I respect the fact that I have a what one may call a 'crazy bitch' factor. But honestly- enough is enough. Somehow I keep getting it in my head to associate with crazy folks who don't have their life together...and in turn make me out to look like I'm out of it.

Lesson of the day: I am worth it. The universe works in mysterious ways. Crazies stay crazy. For life.

Smarasaurs, work, and bagels galore.

Advice of the Day: One must always be on the watch for Smarasaurs.

Birthdays....a day of cultivating rapid growth.

I must say....my residents are awesome. And I will tell you why. They baked me a cake (Funfetti is DELICIOUS!!!!) and then gave me a mild cardiac arrest by singing Happy Birthday to me. While I was holding my laundry. Yes...I was in fact doing laundry when the clock struck midnight (a girl needs clean clothes non??)

But when I woke up at 7.20 cause my mom called and sang 'Happy Birthday' to me, the followed seven minutes later with my dad calling me. For the split second I was awake, I realized that I am no longer a teenage. Physically. However, I finally started feeling like my body and time was catching up to how I feel emotionally. Like I was always two years ahead of the game. Now- this is not to say that I feel completely 'the right age yet'. And I don't necessarily think that will ever happen (okay...maybe when I'm like...70 or something.). But as of now I can personally stop feeling like I'm in limbo so to speak.

Speaking of speech, I am now using a program in which I can learn Portuguese. And it is AWESOME!!!! (full nerdy moment....now.)But that is CLEARLY besides the point.

I find that birthdays most of the time for me have a love-hate relationship. I don't really like 'celebrating' or 'flaunting' that it's my birthday. It's not my style. If you know it, you know if, if not, I don't hate on you for it- cause there are bigger things to focus on and remember then the moment you were born. Not to say I don't think I'm special...but politically, there are so many moments of birth that get ignored it's hard to gauge them together. There is so much growth to do as an individual, like into a better being, scholar, activist, friend, lover, etc. that it's hard to think a birthday trumps all of that. But no matter the case, I still had a nice one. Later Monday night, one of my friends took me out to dinner, but I noticed that she was not acting like herself. She has been going through some serious stuff and didn't want to "bring me down on your birthday". I told her that no matter what day it was, I would've wanted her to feel good on my birthday like I did.

PLEASE NOTE: The best gift you can ever give me in life...is to let me share my moment with you. Always.

But as always, with time comes a little bit more knowledge, a little bit more clarity, and we ask for a little bit more sanity but....baby steps.

I guess they didn't hand out Rose-colored glasses this year hunh?....

Finally!!! A moment to write. It's week two of classes, and I surprise myself by exactly how much I've grown up since I've been in Oberlin. With the potentially of being overrun with work, school, job(s) and recreating a more positive social life, I fondly remember how back in the day...I've would've pissed my pants and cried myself to sleep because I was so stressed. Now I just break out in a big old eczema patch lol. (gross I know...but you'll live.) I guess the rose colored glasses are off at this point. I now know that Oberlin at many...MANY times...is not what it is cracked up to be and that the institution will pull some shady sh*t on your ass faster than a dog on a bone, that I can't fix or change everything (or will even be good at everything), that some folks are really unwilling to cooperate and/or participate. I now know that there are some folks who in fact- don't care about real feelings, real politics, or real identities, but instead, are very much content with the idea of who they think others think they are, rather than who they truly are meant to be. (Sorry...I know that was a serious ass compound sentence- but it had to be done. It's how I think.)

I was talking to someone the other day about my time in Oberlin so far. That I chose to use this time and this space to get to know myself...as in the person who I am satisfied to be, and question it everyday. That while no single person is every clear about anything and everything, it is okay to have some sort of understanding of the kind of person you are, who you associate (and disassociate) with, the things you love, hate or rub you wrong. Why is it that there are some people who are really okay with pulling out the Rosy glasses? You know...the ones laced with privilege?!! It is amazing to me that everyone talks about college being this experience where you get to try all sorts of things. What about trying to be a better person- a better thinker, believer, listener?

As of late, I have been thinking so much more about politics. About how it seeps into everyday things. Like exactly who is given the brunt work of any kind, or who exactly gets to play pretend socially and emotionally? Not to sound jaded or what have you, but Oberlin for me had begun breeding this type of individual who is not really individual at all- but is rather the shell of someone who believes in the systems still set up that force you to contain, confuse and compound your identity, and everything that makes you. (I.e...being an R.A. who is very much into brown politics who lives with a lot of white folks is harder than anticipated...not that I shouldn'tve know.)

I started going back to church (as for those who know me this is a very big step...), which to my bewilderment, has actually been so soothing. I think it helps that it is non-denominational, and that I firmly believe body mind and soul that the Universe is a big brown woman, or a collective of brown women at a table. Cause the craziest of shit that has happened in my life so far could only be full of the irony and the bittersweetness brown women know. It is here that someone told me I should have my own t.v. show- if only for the really great inner monologues...

I got a comment on one of my last posts that Gaia hasn't made an appearance lately. I am proud to say that zhe is doing well...and that I spent about an hour and a half getting re-aquainted with zer...who was very unhappy about being so out of tune. I haven't written a song that quite works yet in a while...so I'm just gonna let my Auntie Universe drop a present for me when she thinks I'm ready for it. So in the meantime...I'll do my best to keep practicing.

Biggest fear so far: I don't want this year to end up like last- where I felt really bitter and withdrawn from and about everything. There is a fine line between bitterness, apathy, and contentment that I feel like I'm trying to walk. Let's hope the rope doesn't break this time and that my balance is better.

Always be Prepared for the worst...cause You will then get a lovely surprise when it is better than expected...

SO...today was the first day of classes. And I am exploding with the realization that there are some classes that I really have always wanted to take but never did because it wasn't part of my majors (African American Studies and English). For instance- Latina/os in Film and Media. A Comparative American Studies based course that discussed the representation of Latinas/os in the media and questions of identity, creativity, etc and works by other people of color are included. Exciting non?

But having written this first portion in an early mindset, I now had the self realization of something I do in particular as a defensive mechanism. In a potentially bad scenario, I always anticipate the worst to happen . That way...when the scenario does in fact unfold, I am always gently surprised that it turned out better than what I imagained. I say this having repeated the same cycle over and over again when it comes to life, friends, and etc. and I start to wonder 'now I know it isn't you...it's me this time'. Self reflections are always good...even in moments of existental "crisis". But sometimes...just sometimes...those moments of self reflections can in fact leave you at the strangest level of self consciousness.

And so the big wheels keep on turning or...too many very-ables.

Holy Crap Batman!!!

WARNING: Due to the copious information about to be devulged in the next few paragraphs, each with be short and simple with only a hint of the recommended martini humor...

Back in the Country

I got back into the country and into my home in Jersey at about 1:30am on the 16th. Brazil was phenomenal. I mean this in the sense that I experienced so much about myself and my reasoning. Sure enough, my knees held out for me till the last night in the roda when it locked itself, which was fine...until all of the walking I've had to do since. Good grief. It will always be strange to be a tourist in a country where you see so many people who look like you. Brown people struggle everywhere, and it was hard still seeing how my privilege, of having money, of being able to have someone help me with the language barriers (which my fifth grade Spanish did a pretty good job at maintain some sort of understanding), and everything else. I really wish I had more time to write about the trip itself- so one day when I get a good two hours I will write another post on my trip and the ways I've changed since then.

Back in Oberlin

So Monday was the start of my RA training, which was ridiculous. There were so many people and of course, so much ignorance. Every day started at 9am and ended around 8pm. Most of the times it ended later. But even with the possibilities of drunken people, fires, and whatnot, I'm still excited to be an RA. Especially in a Program House that is specifically geared to community growth.

Overall though I am freaking exhausted (and my knees are starting to act up). And so I am getting very irritated very fast by very small things. I hate getting snippy like this but sometimes I feel like I don't have a choice- like no other response is warranted or accurate. And trust me when I say that it gets worse when I am in close proximity with someone...and can't really be honest, and have to share me space for too long. Is it wrong that I just value my space? In any case...I feel like I've been mentally run over by a Mack truck on the way to Omaha. Why Omaha??? Cause I'm that tired.

Nervosa mas Entusiasmada (Nervous but Excited)

Bon Noite!!! (Good Evening!!!)

I'm boning up on my Portugues for my trip and I say...I hope my fifth grade Spanish kicks in really soon. I guess my adventures really start tomorrow/today and all. My knees are acting funny as what...God bless Icy Hot.

Part of me wants to vocalize a fear I'm developing and another part wants to squash it like a bug. I guess if I didn't recognize that fear, it could all go wrong. So I'm just hoping for the best at this point.

Many faces of Dee

So my flight back home from Oberlin was ridiculous. My flight was delayed five flippin' times and I was in a mood. Cause all these white folks really wanted to talk about the reason for Newark aiport "shutting" down was cause of a terrorist attack. I'll be damned if a someone wants to say that...I'm a Jersey bred crazy mofo...and that language is not tolerated. Not only did this big old dude swip my seat so I sat middle (which I can kind of understand....he was a mammoth of sorts), but he kept almost elbowing me in the face. And I say...men as a species are very jumpy...

But as I was flying over Penn., I started to get this unwinding feeling. And not just like when you are on a plane and feel queasy. It was like I was leaving a very valuable, very solid (if there is ever such a thing) part of myself in Oberlin. And I feel that way every time I come home. Like I just revert back into a version of myself that just made everyone happy. Part of me knows that everyone feels this way when they go home, and that I may have even placed myself into a situation as an emotional buffer. I don't know...it's hard to explain really. I just know that the relationships I had at home are not the ones that have kept me sane the way the were suppose to growing up, and I feel like I'm 7, 13, and17 all over again. My sister said to me on the phone in the Cleveland John Hopkins airport that I have a way of letting people'e emotions and psyches run into mine, affecting me drastically. We never got to fully talk about it but it's true. Hence the whole hermit tendancies.

Anyway. It's about 4 days till I leave, and parts of me are very excited, and worried. I'm going to not dwell on it and just focus on relaxing and being home as much as I can for the time being.

Things I realized today:
I miss my guitar. Very much.
My relationships with certain people are....troublesome. But I really missed my sister and LP.
I love the movies Ferngully and The Fifth Element.
I missed my Serta bed and green room. A Whole lot...
Shark Week on Discovery Channel is AMAZING.

Life after research....

So what has this little research fellow done since the end of research???? Nada. And it felt great. Until I realized I had to pack up everything I own in this apartment right now and be ready to head back to Jersey. Where I only spend six days cause I am going to El Salvador, Bahia, Brazil. I'm so excited...but really nervous. One cause I don't know an ounce of Portuguese, and second that my knees are still really weak and lock in place so all of the Capoeria Angola training I'm getting will be really interesting.

Life as always...never slows down for anyone, because as soon as I get back on the 15th of August, I leave the 16th for Oberlin once again, for RA training. I tell you...the more I think about it the more Oberlin seems to suck my soul here. Sometimes in a good way...others...well....you know. I was talking to someone at lunch yesterday about how I couldn't believe that it's been two years since we started college, and how so much has changed-mainly yourself. It's amazing and scary at the same time when you remember what you thought you'd grow up to be or where you'd end up or turn out, then you wake up on day and you realize...you turned out differently. And that's okay.

Things I learn today:
Blueberry pie is always delicious-esp with ice cream
The Mummy is forever a good movie
Bad Syfy movies are fantastic to laugh at. you should get on that.
Facebook quizzes are addicting.
Packing sucks. Period.

The finish line is the sweetest sight

I AM OFFICIALLY DONE WITH MY SUMMER RESEARCH!!!!!! Good grief it feels good. I was the last presentation of the last day...so of course everyone was ready to dip out really quick.

So to recap, I was studying how Griot traditions help create Community identity, and how Zora Neale Hurston uses those same principles and in theory, is a griot by her own right. It was awesome. I was nervous of course. But at the end, my Mentor and Advisor was really pleased with my work, and someone who has had publications in the audience about Hurston said it made her think more on the subject and Hurston's representation of community and her own identity. HOLY JUMPING JESUS!!!!! That my friends...made me so excited. Like phenomenally excited. *geek sigh*

I did a mini performance of some of Hurston's work Mules and Men and people liked it! It was really cool to see my work speak for itself (sort of), and I am just glad it all worked out.

I also what to give mad shout outs to my sister, it's her birthday today and she was in the room with me (in spirit) and really pushed me to do what I love. Yay for big sisters and awesome mentors.

Wait....I'm almost at the finish line????

Holy Jumping Jesus....I am DONE with my paper!!!! Okay....let me not lie...I need to proof it, but other than that I am relatively done. This means...nap time. Like hardcore.

So right now in my "free time" from being "done" with my research paper, I watched Coraline and The Goonies. I freaking love The Goonies...it's the quintessential buddy adventure films. And what's not to love...treasure, pirates, best friends, romance???

But I want to talk about Tim Burton. That man is crazier than Stephen King tripping out on LSD. Good grief. I swear that man needs help. He is in fact the Devil's B*tch. The mess he puts out....especially with Johnny Depp and his baby momma Helena Bonham Carter just makes my heart hurt. Some white folks are crazy. I'm sure the three of them all sleep together and smoke cigarettes and talk about what they can do next to be crazy. And Neil Gaiman is a turd. Making comic books that are just....he's deranged. If you should ever read The Doll's House....wear a rosary. At least. Maybe have some holy water accompany you.

Garage Band just became my lover....

Okay. So those reading I hope you know that I am in fact odd and will say stuff like this on the regular. I have been trying to put myself to use and write my research paper which I present in six days...and I can't. Why??? Cause Garage Band is the devil and I am it's faithful minion. Yes. I said it. I sent about three hours of my yesterday playing with the damn thing and I am both furious and ecstatic. Made a trippy Sting meets Tracy Chapman on the way to a Bono retreat in the Gambia soundtrack (think bongo drums, shakeres and a hefty helping of indie rock chords).

At this point..the tips of my left handed fingers are starting to lose feeling. Fantastic.

I would love for this paper to be done with. Sometimes being a nerd is very exhausting. But because I am such a fan of geekdom....I attached a comic strip with one of my favorite cartoon references...the days when I could sit in front of the t.v. for hours on the weekend and have no one judge me.

WARNING: Subject may include intense references to debauchery and...He-Man.

PS...I really wanted to play up my geek factor today. Please enjoy.

Holy Crap....my sister doesn't think I'm silly.

So I just got word from big sister....and she LIKES THE SONG!!!!! While I shared the song with a select few, her opinion mattered most to me....cause she would actually tell me what I need to work on. I was so nervous about her listening to it that I didn't call her like I usually do (meaning it was serious). She even said that she forgot that it was me singing sometimes.

Thus far....some feedback has been the following:
-Word Choice (which definitely needs to change cause well...I was making the song up while I was playing-therefore, I will write it down the first chance I get)
- Adding a bridge and adjusting the tempo at some parts,
-The fact that you can hear me change chords (which I personally like in acoustic songs. I think it gives it surprising character)

I was playing around with GarageBand, and am in love. It's fantastic all the things you can do with it, like add ambient noises in the background. If I wasn't writing this research paper, all I would be doing is working on this and other songs.

I will be putting up a better version on my GoogleSite hopefully by the weekend!!!! Yay for practice!!!!!

I made true to my word...I recorded my first demo with Gaia (my guitar)

Okay, so I finally made good on my word. I just recorded this and decided to put it up. Made up the song on the spot cause it just worked. Please listen, and feedback is wonderful. I hope you enjoy it. You'll have to click on the title to lead you to my Google site and then download it onto your itunes cause I don't know how to put a streaming version yet.

I'm gonna work on a bridge and the tempo...but it's a start.

You can also click on Google Site and it should take you there.

Hip Hop and White "Connoisseurs"

I had the distinct displeasure of watching Center Stage 2: Turn it Up or something silly like that. Why did I watch it? Cause I have an inexplicable weakness for dance movies. All of them and any of them. And I couldn't sleep. Anyways, I was watching it, and of course couldn't deal with White Suburban kids "doing" hip-hop cause it "gives me fire" or "makes me feel good". Of course...they all looked like Gumby on Speed when they danced.

But seriously, what is it with White America and the compulsion to blatantly disregard any sort of politics or history when it comes to creative expression? Or...why the heck are white kids always trying to have the best of both worlds? To have the style and the culture, but not the responsibility or the accountability and recognize that they are in fact appropriating? Its insane to me how all of the dance movies I've watched lately deal with white kids being introduced to hip hop and then appropriating the mess out of it to the point where it is not only unrecognizable, but looks downright silly. Another constant plot in the films....mixing or showing the clash between hip-hip and other forms of street dance/performance with ballet. I don't give a crap. Ballet has had a constitutional history or disregarding people of color because of body types, but it is fully acceptable to have white individuals take the power and the politics of hip hop from the streets, dress it up nice and then ballet accepts it with no acknowledgment to the communities that survive because of the dance form? It's not enough to take land, money, culture and bodies, but now dance?

I'm not even going to pretend this is the first time I've registered this appropriation. Cause I have. Maybe I'm so heated cause the acting was ridiculously awful, and the casting directors really couldn't deal with having a black lead who can perform ballet and hip-hop, both with greater precision and style- and so just put a out a casting call to any white female and male ballet dancer who can learn/is a hip hop dancer. And I bet their choreographer was a person of color.

All this said though...I still love dance movies. And they always make me want to get up and shake my booty. But I'll be damned if I see another white kid mimic my moves on the dance floor and not tell me I'm a good dancer. *shrug*



You should click on the song by mc chris. It's funny. I would like to hope he's making fun of white kids like himself who like hip hop but are still clearly white, and double taking on appropriation. But let's hope my optimism doesn't get the best of me.

Lessons on being a grown up....

*Sigh*...Sometimes being a grown up is much harder than anticipated.

I say this cause I recently got off the phone with one of my closest friends (I've know her since I was 6 year old), and she is having "relationship problems". Overall, it is her second guessing herself, when she is in fact an amazing person. Smart, Creative, Funny, the works. However, she doesn't believe so and in turn, stops anything from starting when it comes to relationships, and complicates everything.

But question: is getting involved with someone really as complicated as we all think? Or is it as simple as saying "I'm picking up what you're putting down.", and we make it complicated cause we're too scared...and awkward??

She asked me for some advice so I gave her some....and more or less walked her through some steps that "helped" me in terms of dealing with relationships (which I seem to do a lot of these days). I told her that it is better to know what did happen, then wonder what could've. I also told her that I've been there. The whole awkward my stomach hurts from trying to explain to 'you' my feelings business. I get it. Second guessing your worth and qualities. Or if you "misread" the signs. But at some point when do you stop acting as though you were 7 years old, and start acting like a grown up? Do we ever really get out of that phase-of the awkwardness and seconding? Honestly? Probably not. But I guess you learn to deal with the awkwardness and maybe even shift it somewhere else for the time being. Cause that little bit of awkwardness...makes relationships worth it...non?

Sometimes I wake up only wanting to go back to bed.

This is a poem/spoken word piece. I wrote this a few months ago. I posted it cause right now there is no other way to describe the feeling I feel now. Sometimes I wake up really...off.

Working through a life
That is not quite my own
I stay awake at night
Trying to count the minutes as they get sown
Up deep within the hours
That keep passing me by
And as I strive to hold my own
I seem to keep on failing no matter how hard I try.

Trying to keep together
Pieces of me in a place
That don’t seem to quite
Give a shit if I find my space.
So as I work hard, and grow hard, and always seem to plan,
I never understand
How can I claim the ground I walk on
When no one even knows my name.

Looking back on years I somehow get mesmerized
Captivated, fascinated but mostly discombobulated
About how I always try to fit in
To groups where I know I can’t.
And soon found that the weeds that had sprouted
Around this noble plant
Have never even cared that she would grow
To blossom such a beautiful bloom.
But until the day I realize that I don’t get to assume
That people care, that they only stare
Waiting just to hear what happens in this tragedy, the nightmare
Where I only set myself up for doom.

As I’m walking down the pavement
I still always seem to struggle
With the attitude, for magnitude
That I wish to radiate
But instead I seem to flicker and only seem to pulsate
A lower watt of energy
That folks get to manipulate.
And try as I might
To just pick up arms and fight,
This little heart of mine
Just gets broke up, and led on
And wearisome I move on
But I still can’t seem to let go.
So as I walk with my head down
With a frown somehow always stuck up on my face
I try to keep on rearranging the memories I can't erase.

Super Sonic Vibes...

You ever have that feeling where you wake up one morning and all of a sudden your life accelerated at Super Sonic speed? Instead of easing on by with time where you know what's next... you suddenly find yourself wondering 'how the f*ck did I get here and where is my parachute???". Sometimes, it's a good thing. Most times it not. Because you then find yourself with your ears popping, eyes stinging, and your heart trying to leap out of your throat, trying to catch on quick to something as the air slips through your fingers.

Who knew Jamiroquai was so on the money?

Getting serious about this song writing thing...sort of

Okay. I once upon a time said that this blog was meant for anything and everything that I wanted and needed for any given moment. So, I decided to post a song that I wrote earlier this month. Please be honest, and comment on what needs work. I am all about improvement and positive criticism. Personally, this song could go on forever for me. The title may need work, but hey...it's a start. Hopefully within the next month or so, I work with Garage Band to make a recording with my geetar (holy crap I know...)

Nightmares Shaped in Dreams

There was a boy named Pride.
He never knew how to stay satisfied.
He walks down the street like he owns the place.
But he doesn’t know the man who wears his face.

But then the devil. Came to town.
Made an offer. That nowhere else could be found.
And he said. If you come with me,
I’ll can give you the world. Just wait and see.

Be careful what you wish for. Be careful of who you wish you could be.
Be careful what you wish for. Be careful of nightmares shaped in dreams.

There was a girl named Suicide.
She never knew how to save her life.
She couldn’t take the way she looked every day.
But she didn’t know she was beautiful in every way.

But then the devil. Walked across the room.
At the party. Where there was no one she knew.
And he whispered. If you come with me.
I can make you. The body of a goddess no god’s ever seen.

Be careful what you wish for. Be careful of who you wish you could be.
Be careful what you wish for. Be careful of nightmares shaped in dreams.

Now you see Pride. Had wanted the world.
But found that there was nothing of worth.
He wanted to prove. To himself.
That he had everything but he had nothing at all.

And now Suicide. She became a star.
But everyone seemed to love her from afar.
And she forgot. What it was like to love.
And how loving from the inside out was what it’s all about.

Be careful what you wish for. Be careful of who you wish you could be.
Be careful what you wish for. Be careful of nightmares shaped in dreams.

Give you dreams. Give me your fantasies.
I can make them come true. Just sell your soul out over to me.
Be careful of the devil. Dressed in white with the soft red eyes

Be careful what you wish for. Be careful of who you wish you could be.
Be careful what you wish for. Be careful of nightmares shaped in dreams.
Just be careful babe. Of Nightmares shaped in dreams.

Again, you can't have growth without honesty...

Flags, Songs, and Feelings of wonder

There are lots of days I sit down to write, and nothing comes out. Sometimes it's a good thing, cause that means I have to work on what I need to say. But then, recently, there's the reason that I don't know how to say what I want to, politically, academically, emotionally, all of it. What I want most is to write songs and music (which aren't equivalent I guess) where I get the "good shivers" as I like to affectionately call them. Where I look or read something that just makes my whole body go 'WoW!'. To write something that doesn't affect just me. And sure enough that is a hard thing to accomplish. Maybe it's asking alot to always know what to say and how, but think of it like this. Why waste all those words trying to fumble around to find the right one?

So, you can imagine how I felt when I first heard this song. Good Shivers all around!!!



I will be the first to admit I learned about this dude from my sister- I jacked her station on Pandora so fast I gave myself whiplash...

Happy Late Free the Colonies but Not the Slaves day. Or Happy Birthday pops.

So this past weekend was July 4th. And for the first time in...forever, I did nothing for it. Didn't go to a barbecue, didn't watch fireworks, didn't eat good American hot dogs and burgers as a good American should. Instead, I thought about how on that fateful day back in 1776 (which I knew practically off the top of my head!!), American colonists failed to see the beautiful irony of fighting for their right to freedom, as they held on steadfast to color politics and beliefs in the necessity of slavery. And....how they probably didn't eat hot dogs and burgers come victory, ans where did they come from (of course besides animals)!!!

Instead, I just relaxed as best as I could in my friend's apartment, and watched all kinds of movies. Productive? Absolutely not. Pleasant? Positively yes. It was much needed though. Who would've though theory would be so exhausting.....

In all seriousness though, I just relaxed and played Gaia all day. And wrote songs. And thought if the package I sent for my papa's birthday would make it back home in time. But I had some "conversations" with my sister that really rubbed me the wrong way. I won't really get into it completely, but it all started with a couch, turned into a fight about my clarity as a person, and my being "coddled" by everyone I know basically, and ended up taking about my "social circle" which my sister concluded as non-existent. So I was mad. Really really mad. Like...I haven't been this mad in such a long time I started to hyperventilate mad. *Sigh*. Did I learn from it though? Maybe. I learned that I'm not comfortable telling things to my sister. Or to anyone - and considering this is a blog I fully recognize the irony. But seriously, is it wrong if I like to spend time by myself doing what I want, and not have to worry about stupid people, feelings and things like that? Maybe? Don't get me wrong...friends are nice sometimes....but not enough to make me like people on a regular basis.

I get this from my dad. He doesn't really do people either. So I dedicate this blog to my pops, who always taught me that family is always "better" than friends, and that stupid people are everywhere.

Oh...and I dedicate it to the all the Independence Days of communities of color who are still unrecognized and unaided and where you have to look up when liberation occurred if at all achieved, while no one dares forget Freedom in the Colonies.

And to Mudd for having Wi-fi. My computer is acting extra defunct at my friend's apartment.

Not Stopping till You get Enough I guess

This weekend has been such a blur. It's amazing how sometimes people think celebrities are untouchable to some things and then before you know it, they are gone. I remember the first time I saw Thriller when I was about 6 or 7 years old, and I was terrified. Seeing the walking dead after all those folk stories my mom and pops told me-not cool. But it wasn't until I looked back on the video and really appreciated how crazy and awesome the whole concept of it was. Michael Jackson was in fact...a revolutionary genius.

But I was thinking about it this weekend, and realized that with that genius, came the inevitable craziness that slips in between the cracks. Think about it. You have Thelonious Monk, Kurt Cobain, Janis Joplin, and hundreds of other musical 'geniuses' and icons who all found themselves straddling the world of creative genius and losing touch with themselves and the world. Drugs, Drink, the media, and of course the need to top themselves all got the better part of them.

Especially MJ. I was talking to a friend on facebook the other day who messaged me this:

"No one thought that he would die from heart problems. I always thought he would get eaten by a whale or ride off with a unicorn into the sunset. but never this. Well. that's what happens when the black man makes himself white, has white babies, and takes on white values. He dies before his time. The universe is trying to put things back in order."

And to be quite honest and fair, I agree to some extent. So driven by the need to best himself and pretend he was something he wasn't, mixed in with a childhood that really was anything but, Jackson lost who he was and struggled really hard to find himself. But it didn't quite happen, since he was forever giving himself away and didn't have real people to tell him that he was doing wrong and to help him out. As my sister says "You can't give yourself that way because people will find every way to kill you".

I take this as a lesson to know who you're true crew is made up of, and to not give yourself away like candy and stay true to yourself, no matter how hard.

Side note: is it wrong that me and my sister joked about Michael being outlived by not only Elizabeth Taylor....but William Shatner too? (Yeah??? Too soon??)