This is how i think...

I was talking to my beau yestesterday, when he mentioned that I have made some grammatical errors on my blog, and some typos... honestly, I edit my blog, because sometimes those errors drive me crazy, but really a blog is like, a conversation, or a spurt of stream of consciousness writing. they should all look like this:

TodayafterstayingupallnightIhadtoTAaneightA.M.classinwhich
theotherTAandIshowedtherestofRogerandMe,someoldMichael
Moorefilm.Inadvertantly,andtothegreatpleasureofourstudents,we
skippedafewscenesofthemovie,meaningthatwearebadatwhatwedo
andwillneverbecomeprofessors.Afterclass,Iwenttothebusstopto
catcharidehome,andtheshadybusdriverworkingmyroutefliespast
withoutstopping.Thiswasfrustratingbecausethereareabout4buses
thatIcantakethatwillmoreorlessgetmeclosetomyhouseandIby
-passedatleast2waitingforthatone,whichisthefastestandmostefficient.
Finally,Igetonabusthatwilltakemehome,andofcoursetheringingthing
onthebusthatsignifiesyourstopdoesn'twork,whichisjustmyluck.I
camehomeandgotsomethingtoeatwhilecatchinguponoldepisodes
ofMTvshows,thenpromptlycrashedforseveralhours.ThenImailed
somestufftomysister,andman,youwouldbesurprisedhowdifficultitis
tonavigateapostoffice,becauseIswearIwasintherefor20minutes
justtryingtomailasimplepackage.Theyhaveallthemachines
automatednowtsoastominimizeanypotentialhumaninteraction,
butofcourseIamincompetentandperienniallylostlooking,sothe
workersatthecounterareaskingmeifineedhelp.Iborrowedapento
labelmyboxandrealizedthatididnthaveanytapetolabelmybox.the
ladyatthecountertapeditupforme,andtoldmethatthatwouldcostme$5.
Yes,thetape.Iwasn'tsureifshewasseriousthough,doesthatmakemeguillible?
Anyway,shedidn'tchargeme.WhydopeoplealwaysassumeIamguillible? Ohwell,anyway,Ihavehomeworktodo...holla.

Now, that's a blog! ;)

BACK UP OFF!!!

This post is for all you bloggers out there who feel like your life sometimes just doesn't live up to your blog. We know that you, the world, tune into our blogs for amusement. Sometimes we will have a good run of exciting events that make our blogs rival the best page turning novel... then there are other times, when out lives are, well, boring. Not even shitty, because a shitty life makes for a funny blog. Sometimes, your life if just immemorable and not worth documenting, and during these times, I am tired of feeling the pressure of, "OH MY GOD!!! My blog!!!"

i know I am not the only one who feels this way... here are excerpts from other bloggers who share this common angst:

"I know it has been a while, but lately life has been REALLY boring. No really...the most important thing I did this weekend was laundry."

"Not much excitement has happened lately, so I'll keep you posted."

"It’s been a while but I haven’t forgotten about the blog. "

"so, for the second time in my life, my sister has offended me by telling me that I am boring. Ouch. She says that no one reading my BLOG wants to hear about my "drunken escapades" of the previous weekend. OUch ouCH. Well, i would like to say that this is MY Boring Life Of a Geek, and i never said it was going to be intresting! As a matter of fact, i added a disclaimer to one of my entries, warning about the boringness of my boring life of a geek. so, if you think i'm boring, STOP READING!"

These guilt-ridden words are all from different blogs, with people feeling the excessive pressure of "blog-expectation". It's like, you have a good post, and people read it, enjoy it, give you your propers. Next thing you know, you are mass producing blogs like DMX used to put out CDs!!! Finally, the strain of this takes its toll, and you get burned out by your inability to constantly live up to yourself!!! Well, maybe its not THAT stressful, but cut us some slack. Everyday is not interesting, every post is not inspired by genius. When something good happens, we will let you know. Promise.

My brother and I 

Semi-charmed life

You know when you are starting to get sick, and you wake up in the morning feeling like your throat is completely closed or at the very least, blocked by a balled up pair of slouch socks? Then, you realize that today is exactly one month before the semester ends, which means its CRUNCH time, and you start begging whatever life force is out there to just seal off your throat and get it over with? lol, yeah, it was one of those mornings.

I went to Boston this weekend and visited my brother and many of my friends from California, as well a long lost high school bud Lauren. It was great. I didn't tour the city too much, but spent a lot of time just hanging out with people, pretending I was registered for the conference, and figuring out the nuances of Boston transit, and catching glimpses of some of the Elite eight games. (Go Heels!) (I have decided to root for the Tar Heels to take the championship purely out of the selfish desire of being able to say that both of my schools were national champions in '05... USC football, and UNC basketball. Therefore, GO HEELS!!!)

So, downtown Boston looked like LA after an earthquake. There was construction EVERYWHERE, whish apparently has been the case for, oh, the last 10 years or so. Honestly, the streets are in a state of disarray, and the urban planning was abysmal... (read: take a left onto Tremont, and continue until you run into the intersection of Tremont and Tremont...) WTF. Last I checked, that is NOT supposed to happen. Not only that, but the nice areas and not so nice areas were contiguous, which aesthetically, is very confusing. Basically, what I am saying is that Boston should be America's first city to be a contestant on Extreme Makeover. That city don't make no sense.

At the conference, beautiful intelligent Black folks milled around, and enjoyed speakers such as Michael Eric Dyson, and as well as a performance by Musiq Soulchild. It was refreshing to be hit on by undergrads once again, and carded more times than I could count just to get into restaurants to get some grub. I also enjoyed the baffled looks on the faces of conference people when I explained that I was a doctoral student in Sociology. Don't sleep.... non-engineers put the B in NSBE.

We wrapped up the weekend with a make-shift Easter dinner, of fried chicken, black beans and rice, sauteed broccoli, eggplant parmegian (sp?), garlic bread, blue berry champagne and reisling wine. This was followed up by chocolate chip cookies, brownies, strawberries and whipped cream. We sat around, 4 harvard med students, a film student, and engineer, a doctoral student, and a future law student, and laughed at ourselves, each other, and critiqued the newest doctor show, Grey's Anatomy. All in all, it was a good weekend. No spectacular stories, just a good time.

I can't believe how much life has changed since graduate. I am now "one of those people" who makes plans and trips to catch up with old college buddies! My college friends are now meeting and intersecting with my high school friends, my beau has met half my family, and I am getting OLD! I was at the NSBE conference lamenting the fact that I missed old NSBE, only to realize that I was now OLD NSBE! I'm old school... one of those people who just can't let go yet! This has all happened so fast, it is unbelievable. I am bored and isolated in NC, and I have no friends, and no money. Haha, life is so much of itself. So enjoy your youth, oh undergraduate ones, because it doesn't get any better than college. Everyone tells you that when you are there, and no one beleives it, but it's true. So thanks to all those who keep in touch with me and keep me sane.

God bless my friends and no one else!

My random life

I really love spring... the weather is pleasant, not too hot, not too cold. Sunny shiny days with flowers budding, people begin to come out of their houses, and they have smiles on their faces. It's just a nice time of bright days and cheerful people.

Today, inspired by the sunshine, I decided to take Cali (my car) to get her oil change and check-up. Nervous like a new mother, I entrusted her to the technicians at Midas, and proceeded to wander around in the area near the shop, inspired by hunger. I spotted a sushi joint, but of course it was only open for dinner, so I wandered about 10 minutes away to Boston Market, a favorite of mine. I sat there by myself with reading for school and a local paper, and passed some time between phone calls from family and friends. Eventually, I figured i should head back to the shop to check on Cali... I get to thinking about how I don't feel like walking back, but something tells me not to stress it, so I get my stuff and head back, and a car passes me, stops, throws it in reverse and backs up to me. "You need a ride somewhere?" :) Just as I thought, I was going to get out of this walking after all. This guy was a student at UNC (he showed me his school ID) and I glanced into the car to see a work name tag of someone who work for the Durham Police Department. So, I feel assured enough to get in the car. I mean, he was literally only taking me a minute down the street. Yup. That's right, I got in some random man's car. Sadly, its not the first time I've done this. I don't know what gets into me sometimes, but things like this seem typical in my life. It's not like i looked nice... I was wearing an old t-shirt, jeans, flip flops, and a sweatshirt tied around my waist. My hair was in a bun, and fuzzy around the edges. Shoot, I didn't even wash my face his morning.... lol. Anyway, he took me to Midas and chatted for awhile as I waited for my car. (And yes, Cali got a clean bill of health, thank you for your concern.) It was a pleasant diversion, and I am thankful for good samaritans everywhere. So, if you are reading this, and you see me in the streets, offer me a ride. I'm just dumb enough to actually get in.

The Forsaken

The African Children's choir

Over break, I had the privilege of attending a performance by the African Children's choir. (forgive the poor pic quality, my beau was learning to manipulate a new camera) The children in the choir ranged in age from 5-12 years of age, and had lost one or both parents to HIV/AIDS, famine, or war. These beautiful children are part of the Music for Life program, a Christian Humanitarian program that raises funds for these children to give them a better chance at life. The children were precious, energetic, articulate, hopeful. They sang at a church on campus, and brightened a bleak, cold and rainy day. I, however, always critical, felt very torn by their performance. Here we have African children, touring the world putting on their own benefit concert. They solicited for monies and support, and encouraged us to buy their cd's, DVD's, tapes, etc. These beautiful African youth, so innocent, have come into a world where the plight of African peoples is so bleak, that at such a young age, they have become professional beggars. These kids have mastered English, and sang English church music, as well as US popular music, such as "Lean on Me." To me, this smacked of the colonialism that has raped and exploited the rich continent of Africa, and subsumed many of its traditions.

Africa, as a continent of nations, has a bleak future. Generations are being wiped out by AIDS, which will result in the loss of traditions, history, love. Children are raising themselves, and their siblings, causing them to get less education, and likely relegating them to jobs that will never pay well. This is a cycle that must be broken, and yet, a small choir of ambitious youth will not achieve this. The small amounts of money that will be dedicated to this choir will have such a small effect in comparison to the monumental effort that is needed to save and restore Africa. Perhaps by learning at a young age, that Africans must beg for their own right to survive and exist, they will figure out how to later do this on a political level, and bring substantive change to their countries, their continent. In the meantime though, my heart is sad, and I will go back to watching Hotel Rwanda and the Lost Boys of the Sudan, and cry for mother Africa.

Spring syndrome

It's spring everyone! The time of year when my attention inevitably wanders to... yes, my body. Spring is the perfect season for self criticism! My friend and I have made plans to go to Myrtle Beach for Memorial Day weekend, so I thought I would try on some bathing suits, shorts, outfits to see how much work I have to do to "get it tight". Man. Talk about demoralizing. Let's work from the bottom up.

Feet: These guys are doing ok. After a rough year, and the loss of several toe nails to the trauma of the LA marathon, the feets spent the last 12 months in recovery. Aside from wicked cuticles and needing a little sun, beach readiness is not far off.

Legs: Are also looking mighty pale. I'd say reminiscent of boiled chickens. I may scare some people at the beach. Having kept nicks and cuts to a minimum, a little TLC with the cocoa butter should have these babies sea ready. Ankle to knee, we are doing well. The thighs though, which look as though they've been infused with a thin layer cottage cheese, are going to need some serious attention. I prescribe many hours of treadmill running, and some buns of steel.

Abs: These babies used to be rock hard. Now they are nicely cushioned, creating handles and curves and other things that confuse me. You really shouldn't let yourself go at 22... sigh. Time for some crunches...

Boobs: Still don't have any. On the upside, I will never sag! That's always a plus.

Hair: Need my ends trimmed. I recently straightened my mane, and the split ends are in full effect. Nothing a few hot oil treatments can't take care of...

So, in conclusion, I either need to get a new body (how much do those retail for?) or get in the gym. My beau insists that these problem areas are all in my head. He's wrong. they are in my butt, thighs, and the spare tire around my mid section. So, I recommit myself to the gym for the next two months. My skinny jeans will be avenged!

Hell on earth

Yesterday, I was in Richmond to visit my mother and grandmother. If hell exists, I am pretty sure that it looks like Richmond. This is the most depressed and impoverished city I have ever seen, and I have travelled all over the country. I used to live across the street from drug dealers, and that still didn't hold a candle to South Richmond. Man, I would rather live in Cabrini Green than south Richmond. Its that bad.

NEwho, my beau and I visited my grandmother, and went shopping with her and my mom who was visiting from Kansas. We chatted, and went to the fish market to pick up some east coast fish, like spot, butter fish, croakers and trout... which my mom was going to take back to Kansas with her, for my dad. We then went to visit one of my grandmother's friends in the nursing home and talked to her for a short while. We ran back to my grandmother's to drop off our purchases, and quickly eat some jumbo shrimp. Then we headed off to my brother's godmother's house, which my beau assured me looked like something off of MTV Cribs. We sat around there, with wine and perrier and finger food, before heading to the Tobacco Walk (called the slip) where there are cobblestone streets and lots of cute (and EXPENSIVE) restuarants. We found one that was reasonable and got food for take out and headed home in time to watch U Conn lose their game. We left Richmond between 9:30 and 10, and sadly missed the double overtime Wake/W. Va game. Oh well. Home again, home again. It really helps to put things in perspective... Chapel Hill really isn't THAT bad...

Truly Mad!

I have been on the edge of my seat all this week kids. This tournament is UNBELIEVABLE!!! For KU to fall in the first round!?! UNHEARD OF! WTF! And who are these teams that are unseeding top ranked programs? Bucknell? W. Virginia, Utah, UW Milwaukee? NC State over U Conn? For real? Wow. I am floored beyond belief. Anyone who has predicted brackets this year, I am sorry. I'm sure by now that things are so F-ed up, there is no hope. All the office pools are foiled. Dayam. And did anyone else see that UAB/LSU game, and think that it looked more like streetball than NCAA tourney play? I mean, the game was ridiculous. I was cracking up. To Syracuse, Gonzaga, U Conn, KU... all I have to say, is... well, nothing. I have no words for you. And Maryland, my sweet Maryland, who didn't even get a bid... couldn't even get in on a bubble.... wow. Next year. That goes for you too 'SC. I will be watching and waiting. In the mean time, let the madness continue.

- Baffled in NC

Who ARE these people?

Do you ever notice, that whenever a new Black movie comes out, you get an email from the director/producer begging you to go see their film? It's always a very sad story about how they had no friends growing up, but always wanted to be a filmmaker, and that their sole purpose for doing so was to get YOU to see their movie. No one else counts. Then they really lay it on thick, and talk about how the white establishment doesn't want their movie to succeed, and will sabatoge their movie sales by giving you tickets to the wrong movie, etc. So now, it is your moral duty as a Black person to go see this movie, and to take all of your friends and family, even the non-black ones, so that this film maker can pay his studio fees and be a success.

This is interesting to me for a few reasons. First, WHO ARE YOU? How did you get my email address??? Man.... Google is starting to get really scary, I guess you can really find anyone... Second, as much as I feel for your plight, as much as I know that it is hard to survive as a Black person in a white world, I am pretty sure that you, as a film maker, are a liiiiiiiittle better off than me. Just a little. So, the $6 that it will cost me to go, might be the charge that causes me to overdraft my feeble, ever dwindling bank account. Honestly. And somehow, this is supposed to make me feel uplifted, but all I feel is oppressed. You are out there making movies that I can't really afford to see, and throwing in my face. AND making me feel bad about it. So, here's the new plan. Since you have my email address, go ahead and send me some money, via pay pal. I have supported your movies for long enough, and its about time for you to support me a bit.

Why do they put crack in my food???

I realize now that I have an addictive personality. Maybe I mean to say addicted... hmm... anyway. I had a study group over last night working on a stats project, and I was suddenly overwhelmed by and urge to have Cold Stone's ice cream. So here I am, obsessing about this ice cream and watching the minutes tick away on the clock... when my group finally leaves, it is 10:30, and I am racing against the hands of time as I dash to my car to try to make it to the creamery before it closed. Alas, it had closed at 10, and I had no ice cream. Not to be outdone, I decided to get one of my other favorite things... a bag of ghiradelli chocolate squares, the kind with caramelized almonds. (I swear, it tastes like love in your mouth)... so I headed to my local CVS. I arrive, and smile as I see all of the easter candies and goodies on display, and start to look for some jellybeans for the house. And then I see it. TROPICAL Starburst Jellybeans. You cannot find these things ANYWHERE. I have only found them twice... once before I left for college (almost 5 yrs ago) and once in Las Vegas when I was a junior in college. So I did what any normal person would do... I bought 5 bags. Yes, five. This was at 11pm last night. What you don't realize is that I've almost finished my first bag. That's right, in the past 12 hours, I have consumed nearly a pound of sugar. At present, there is so much sugar surging through my system that my fingers are flying over the keyboard at such lightening speed, I am certain that they will fly off from my body. And I would probably think that was funny. Did I mention that I brought the bag of jellybeans to class, so that I could finish them before I got back home to MORE jellybeans? Oh yeah, and that ghiradelli? I put some of that in my pocket before I left the house. (leave no chocolate behind, is what I say).



This may all sound sick to you, but I am addicted to food, and the foods that I love, I devour! Then, when they are gone, I poke around at other things. The other day, I ordered myself a garlic chicken, spinach, pesto and tomato pizza. I ate the whole thing by myself, but did I stop there? No. I also ordered a snickers cheesecake pie. What's bad about this is... I don't even LIKE cheesecake... but I LOVE snickers. I ate all of that too. It's sad, but I can't help myself. Anyway, I have to go... class starts in a few, and I'd like to finish off these jellybeans...

Well, all Black people DO look alike...

I AM NOT HER!!!

Today I recieved an email from one of my professors, stating that she had missed me in class, and wondered if everything was ok. I had missed one class period, and thought her concern sweet, but perhaps a little overstated... the implication being that I had missed several classes. Now for context, this is a small discussion style class of about 15 students. Most of the students, like myself, are from the home department, sociology, while others are from other departments within the school. My cohort of 12 consists of 2 men, and 10 women. There is one Japanese student, one Chinese student, and I am one of two black females. (If we aren't a poster child for diversity, I don't know who is!!!)

At any rate, I had been in class last week, and thought it odd that my professor had missed and not said anything to me at the time. She had to have seen I was there, I am one of two black students, and this is the 7th week of the semester. Now, it dawns on me that the professor does not know who I am, and has mistaken me for the other black student. I hate to sound cliche, but you know how it is... all us black folks look alike. The other black student, a very intelligent woman, has not been to class in, well, I don't remember how long. But I would hate to think that I have spent half a semester in a class, participating in discussion and interacting with the professor, while all the while, she has NO IDEA WHO I AM. The funny thing is, this isn't the first time that this has happened to me here. The department chair mistook me several times for this other woman, and sadly, he is probably not the only one. So, for the sake of posterity, and to clarify the record, I am posting this, here, saying, I AM NOT HER. I plan to have shirts made, with her picture, stating just that. If I wear it to class enough, maybe they will get the point.

(In all fairness, this picture does not do the situation justice. This girl is at least 5 inches shorther than me, dresses up everyday, wears her hair permed and straightened and has a thick southern accent... I swear to God, we are NOT the same person!)