Did You Know (March 25)

Did you know that you can maintain the color of your jeans, and prevent them from shrinking, by washing them in cold water every few weeks (or less), and hanging them up to dry instead of using a dryer?

I am.

I write another stanza of this poem every other week. I have a love/hate relationship with this poem and I fear that it will never be complete.

I am a struggle underneath a cup of tea.
I am in a fight with a coaster
and a battle to dirty the glass coffee table.
Let me be your annoyance,
let me be your desire to wipe me clean of my sins.

I am listening to the friction of a bed with loose railings.
Bumping against the wall,
closing the gap as her squeaky clean appearance falls underneath the bed.
Let me be your annoyance,
let me be the one who keeps you up at night.

I am a copy machine imitating art on pastel xerox paper.
Creating duplicates of the original.
Clones with wasted ink that will be seen and stuffed away in backpacks and desks.
Let me be your annoyance,
let me quietly make copies of a message that will be ignored and thrown away.

I am the constant ebb and flow of an ocean's tide
Highs and lows, I have some things to hide.
As the full moon mysteriously sets forth these waves,
I'll crash beneath the rocks and pave another way.
Let me be your annoyance,
let me soothe you with the harsh sounds of the sea.

This is the song to my life right about now.

Born Ruffians. They make my heart tingle. Lately, I've been thinking too much and this song sums about 2 years of my life in about 2 minutes.

BTDubs- Singer Luke Lalonde is so amazing, he did this song in one take and almost passed out due to shortness of breath. You go boy.

This Sentence will Save/Ruin Your Life



I need to know who I am
and what I'm going to do while I'm on earth
I need to understand
everything and everybody's lives

I need to get up tomorrow
I have to mail that letter and pay that bill
deadlines, deadlines, deadlines
write that essay, and pray on the windowsill

lines, lines jump from line to line
just one, do one at a time
this one's all about mine mine mine
solve one try then keep on trying
i'm sculpting my philosophy
in patterns going 1,2,3
I'm trying your monogamy
in increments of 1 through 3

I need to eat I'm hungry
I'll grab a bite of a BLT
That's all I want right now...
With some juice, no... coffee.

I need a girlfriend, I'm lonely
Someone to love me and fuck me
I need to get laid immediately
But also someone to fulfill my needs

I need success to be wealthy
I'm hanging on to my simplicity
I need a nice car and nice clothes
Fatter lips and a smaller nose
I need to learn I need to grow
I want to know. No no no no no no no no
I need nice hair... no women
Nice hair, then women. Until then...

lines, lines jump from line to line
just one, do one at a time
this one's all about mine mine mine
solve one try then keep on trying
I'm sculpting my philosophy
in patterns going 1,2,3
I'm trying post modernity
in increments of 1 through 3

Tall Enough

Tall Enough from Strike Anywhere on Vimeo.

Tall Enough is short film by director, Barry Jenkins. It tells the story of an interracial couple living together as photographers in New York City.

I stumbled upon this gem when I was looking for another movie directed by Barry Jenkins called Medicine for Melancholy that I saw last year. Hoping to find it on DVD, I just so happened to click the right link from google at the right time and...viola! I found yet another reason to support Jenkins and his amazing work as a new director.

I just love the way Jenkins takes a taboo in African American society and exposes it into a beautiful masterpiece. His message is concise with little controversy (unlike some other Black directors *cough* Spike Lee *cough*), which is why I hope to see more of him in the future!

The Greates Bed

Lately I’ve been thinking about my old room. Not my first college dorm full of awkward and uncomfortable moments, only to be tossed aside 6 months later. Nor have I been thinking of the familiar room that I’ve lived in since the third grade until my first semester of college. No, the room I’m thinking of is my old bed that sat in the hallway tucked against the closet. This is with out a doubt my favorite room. The hotels in foreign countries could not match the exotic flavor of my old desk/bunkbed. From what I remember of hotels the wonders and excitement they held stretched as far as I could see out the window. But the bed, the bed would become a ship cast away by the waves and at the mercy of the winds it would arrive in the most wonderful and amazing lands that the imagination could hold. My room itself was whatever connected to the feet of my bed. Kitchen, living room, and dining room were my room connected to the hall way connected to the bed. The outside with were my room connected to the porch, to the door, to the hall way, to the bed. Every tree was a castle waiting to be conquered, and over every hill and around every corner was a new land wanting to be discovered. At night when I was tired and it was time for bed, instead of using the ladder, I would climb around the back shelves that were used for storage space, and I felt the same way the climbers of Everest felt. The exhilarating rush of reaching the top and stretching out your fingers to touch the ceiling of the world, yes that was indeed the best bed/desk/room/world and I wouldn’t trade the experience for the most lavish bedroom in the world.

Pretty & Nice- Tora Tora Tora

I like a band. They're from Boston. They're pretty AND nice. I didn't know people could exist with both of those qualities, but now I do and my mind has indeed been blown. I've learned a lot from them and you should too.

This song is very catchy and kind of spastic. It's called Tora Tora Tora. Don't ask me what it's about because I have no clue. Something about the japanese and the atomic bomb. They also discuss seaweed.

Have fun with this.

Thoughts

I haven't written much in a while. I guess it's because I've been thinking too much about writing something worthwhile but instead I've ended up with witty comebacks in my head that make sense to no one but me. I try so hard to be clever, but I am realizing more and more each day that I am not. I suck at metaphors, they just don't come to me, as much as I love them, I am more cliche than the next person. Also, my mind changes constantly so what I like one day, I end up hating the next.

I fear that my desire for originality makes me unoriginal. In this generation, we all have this aim to be different; to stand out from what is normal. In each aching belly of the youth, there is the need to put on some skinny jeans and rebel against the status quo. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that our desire to rebel and be different IS the status quo.

I don't want to be a Youtube celebrity or have over a million followers on twitter, all I want to do is help get kids off the streets and into arts while exploring the world outside of their ghetto bubble. I'd like to write a book of poetry and read it to my kids one day. I want to wear an elegant dress every once in awhile and I want to make my mommy proud. If I can accomplish these simple, unoriginal goals, then I have lived my life happily.

I had a lot of other goals, but I have crossed them off of my list. Many of them being have happened out of sheer luck and amazing friendships. Others due to optimism and just not worrying over the things that hinder me from loving life.