Happiness Is...

by B.J. on 1/13/2008 04:39:00 PM 0 comments Print this post

...Wild N' Crazy Kids and that episode where the kids ride the Colossus rollercoaster while trying to keep as much water as possible in their cups

...Swimming in the Colorado River during a Laughlin, NV summer

...talking up in the College 10 dining hall with Roy, Daniel, Desiree, and with Roy and Daniel, being antisocial observants and critics of the members of the opposite sex. Then finishing up a meal, only to retreat to Roy's for NFL Street or my room for NBA Street.

...Science as Cultural Practice lectures and session in the heart of the forest. The Physics student in the wheelchair with an obvious disdain for social sciences and humanities, Josh, coming in 30 minutes late in a 50 minute section, knocking everything over, and temporarily delaying class.

...random pickup basketball at Wilson with Harly Wachi

...Semiotics and Bladerunner in my Narratives of Popular Culture class. Bladerunner, the analysis you could pull out of it, and seeing LA in a way I had never seen before via the snippet from Mike Davis' City of Quartz.

...the Santa Cruz smoke with Joel, especially the first day. None of us knew what to do.

...Camille's 16th birthday and everyone that mattered in LA just chillin' at my apartamento right before classes started at UC.

...the divinity of the Santa Cruz trees near Social Sciences 1 in my Anthropology of Religion class on a balmy February day in the late Tuesday afternoon

...Driving the UCLA van after dropping off the SEND participants

...Wallyball on some weekday SC nights

...balling (if you want to call it that) in that decrepit Santa Cruz b-ball court complete with some kind of non-flexible steel rims and shoddy wood.

...breakdancing events in Long Beach with Ms. Company Flow inviting.

...the 26th mile of the 2007 LA Marathon with the cadence of We Will Rock You pounding in the background, me bumping my shirt, and the crowd rocking back

...the semi-self-important busy, indifferent culture of the Ackerman Coop with CNN bumping on the big screen.

...trip back to LA and Santa Cruz and San Diego with Ms. Company Flow. Very much good fun.

...spitting sessions with EZ, Dom, n the boys

...La Chica del apartmento 512? That's what I thought when I would come across this one female in my Real Estate class at ELAC.

...the female hip-hop dance troupe leader during the year in which I was a participant in PCC.

...Only in Dreams...by Weezer.

...the rooftop with the Native Guns right before my graduation. It's cool feeling like you know and are down with most of the folks at a gathering.

...Saturday debut practices at Sunny Heights

...the last night in Santa Cruz with Daniel and Desiree. One word: Tim!

...the gathering with LA Voice on the issue of Affordable Housing in Hollywood and explaining LA politics to my 2nd grade and 5th grade teacher.

...Blue Scholars in Historic Filipinotown with Gaby and Desiree.

...the Saturday night where I decided to play DJ at a party, that is invade someone's computer and start downloading and playing classic hits.

...Gaby's birthday in Pasadena. Ha-ha!

...Zion I and Ozomatli rockin' the quarry.

...Heck even Goapele NOT rocking the quarry.

...that last day at Venice Beach with person, Bull-inda, and Keith before I went to college for the first time.

...Text messages asking me if I "wanna come over." Of course you know I do.

...Social Knowledge and Power. Every Lecture. Every Section. And the Deconstructionists' Handbook that came out of it.

...NBA on NBC with the Chicago Bulls on either Saturday mornings or Sunday afternoons.

...the deconstruction of the language used by the officers who beat Rodney King. It was still a boring class though. But I still learned a grip.

...Buying $15 running shoes from a 6th street vendor and using them as we speak. No, seriously, I am wearing them right now.

...George, Beverly, and I enjoying a set from the Ill Again and Gift of Gab set at the Tofu Fest.

...The luxurious bowling alley in Torrance as my intro to the CDC with the wings, the pizza, all while watching the Bulls beat down the Heat

...Chali 2Na, Saul Williams, Mos Def at USC con Bull-inda and waiting it out till the very end.

...Soulja Boy at the 'Litos on Two Separate Occasions. Once at the end of Summer outside with the Power 106 DJs. Then indoors during Thanksgiving.

...Hyphy in my White Tee Party with Dom, and the homies. LOL.

...Giving everyone the hookup while at FPAC. It feels good to be associated with something big, pretending you know people, and then hooking folks up. An exercise in social validation!

...ballin' at the YMCA, the random high school in Canoga Park, and on Sunday afternoons at Marshall with such characters as Manny, a Latino guy who always brought his kids and had, still has a one-handed shot (and still plays there!) and some Armenian kid who was 3 years younger than me and was about my height. We'd play weak, strong competition, it didn't matter.

...Field Days in elementary school cause it meant that it was the end of school and we'd have In-N-Out Burgers.

...High school senior service project at Children's Hospital and eating lunches consisting of...waffle french fries.

...playing basketball every morning on my small indoor court with real wooden floors at our old house in Hollydale

...the senior lunch truck from what used to be across the street near that one hall. Loyola bought up some properties and there is no need for a crosswalk anymore. Boo.

...The underground bar with the jazzy jazz, the kickback coach, and the cool vibe in Lil Tok con Bull-inda and Trina

...basketball and other assorted fun at Thomas' house after school. It beat daycare, in fact, it took daycare by the neck and guillotine submissioned it.

...Lorenzana foods after Karate or Swimming Classes at LACC

...The original American Gladiators at Cheryl's old apartment on Saturday or Sunday nights

...Exploring the Arts District with Shar, Bel, Daniel, and Daniel's friend Brian

...Seeing the Belmont Art Park for the last time with Joybif.

...Seeing East LA murals with Berverly

...Sunday mornings and afternoons with the fam at either Que Que's, Tony Roma's, Max's, Ichiban

...The jazzy-hip-hop they play across the street from my tenement when the Junction Festival invades the 'hood.

...Hodori after FPAC with person, before the show in Chinatown

...The kick-back with KmB in Chinatown with 'Ree, Bull, Shar, and their friend Gabby. The only time I could pretend I was a pimp.

...Tamales with Zocalo at the LA Public Library after their symposium with some gangs expert. Tamales! The next time I got a chance to sit next to that Life and Times anchor Val Zavala! My next thoughts that will go unannounced have to do with me being young, dumb, and full of cum, yes even for a 50+ woman.

...Standing atop the observatory looking at LA after a 1-mile uphill run.

...the opening of a Toys R Us in LA. That's where I got Madden 97 and my first and second Playstation.

...Ingenue at the Union Station on a rainy day and my 8th grade graduation night party while I was dancing with someone whom I thought was the prettiest female ever

...the first time I got involved in Cultural Dancing and meeting this fine-looking dark-skinned tall Filipina woman with wide eyes named Rosalyn. She showed me how to dance and I was hooked...for life. I thought of the song by UB40 "I can't help falling in love". Of course I was only 10.

...Being taken to Coldstones on my 16th birthday and listening to trance music by Cheryl.

...2003 Family Christmas when everything was just funny and I had jokes. 2005 Family Christmas too when at about midnight I had a stripper dancing on top of me.

...visiting New Jersey, the only immediate cousins we have in the United States, and seeing actual suburbs with white people. Well, that last part made me happy the time.

...1st place in the Long Jump on my very last meet on my very last jump which wasn't very good, but I won anyway!

...Parking on Gayley at about 10:35 and waiting there till 11:00 so I wouldn't get a ticket

...my third-hand red 89 celica and its lack of air conditioning.

...the Look of Love by Sergio Mendes and Brasil '66

...Viramundo and e ladrao.

...Photo books of old Los Angeles at Barnes or Borders.

...Old photos of HACLA housing at the Social Studies Library of Southern California

...lunch room Latina females and one loud Thai. LOL. It wouldn't have been my first job experience without them.

...

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You Went to UC...

by B.J. on 12/10/2007 09:32:00 AM 0 comments Print this post

I don't think I read too much into things, but I can get a sense of what people feel are based on a number of things. Most of communication is nonverbal. Of course sometimes, I may misread nonverbal signs and have it lead to other problems.

I especially love those moments where people think they are superior and smarter than me.

Yesterday, I was speaking to the mother of a fellow Loyola, UCLA, University of Chicagoan, and Harvardian who has now become a Doctor.

She asked me if I graduated.

I said yes. Just a while ago, but yes.

Then she asked me where from.

She said"...UC...?"

I said "UC..LA."

Then she said, "oh but you went somewhere else first right?"

"Yes, UC-Santa Cruz."

Why the fuck do you feel the need to ask where I came from? Isn't it the same degree as the one achieved by your precious little result from fucking? Isn't it about the ends that matter?

I don't recall there being a big red stamp on my diploma or transcripts saying "TRANSFER".

It's not that I'm ashamed that I came from Santa Cruz (I still carry my SC lanyard everywhere), but I felt like the fact that I went there was used to undermine what I feel like was an achievement.

I wasn't someone who made it in initially, like the test-taking machine you call your son, but I guess I'm a late bloomer, and not less intelligent (though I think a measurable degree of intelligence is all bunk).

I know I have remnants of an inferiority Napoleonic complex, but it's just comments like that which make me want to peer in and explode their preconceptions and show up their stupid kids...without being such a prick about it to others.

I like to think of myself as bringing and catalyzing folks to be up with me if not higher.

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First Place! (kind of)

by B.J. on 11/17/2007 04:54:00 PM 0 comments Print this post

Well, technically second place cause some clown was trying to take the moment away from me. But just know that I led the majority of the race of a pack of 3000.

Forget for a moment that technically it was supposed to be a WALK. On its website, United Way made it a huge point: This going to be was a Non-Competitive walk.

To emphasize this point, they did a few things to the event: they gave us these participant badges for us to wear around our necks as if we were going to some kind of conference. They even gave us plastic bags for our T-shirts, but no place to store them. Anything to discourage running.

Luckily, I had planned for that. I rapped my conference badge around the plastic bag with the extra T-shirt and carried it like a football.

When Villaraigosa and his mini-entourage of assorted muckety mucks in the public and nonprofit sector snuck through the crowd, the officially race began.

I decided that I would wait and see who ran. Who the hell wants to run if you're going to be the only one?

After I saw a few kids race off and run and even a few adults, I decided...fuck it, I don't do walking.

So I jogged, and before you know it I was squaring off with the competition's finest: a 4'7 5th grade kid wearing jean pants and two or three layers of shirts (the leader) and later, 3 white dudes who looked like they had come from a mean night of partying, though one of them did look kinda fast.

I didn't want to embarass anyone (LOL), or myself really.

Again, if I had just burned the competition and ran balls to the wall it wouldve no better an accomplishment than Carl Lewis entering the special olympics and winning all the events. It would've just been so awkwardly stupid, considering that this was a non-competitive walk.

So my strategy was to stroll through and run with people if possible, and maintain a slight lead.

Halfway through the race, the 3 white guys fell off because one of the white guys was running too slow. I kept looking back, cause I didn't want to be the only person there.

But I gotta tell you: it felt good to be at the very apex of an event, even if I was just jogging amidst a sea of walkers.

I held the lead up till the very end, and it wasn't because I "hit the wall". Towards the end, some fat-legged clown decided that he wanted all the glory of "winning" first place. So he eventually caught up to me. He then ran past me, and I kept a pace with him, but I could tell that he really wanted this more than I did. So, I decided not to press the issue and let him "win" 1st place. It would be embarassing to show competitiveness in an event of noncompetitiveness.

Afterr the race, he looked at me and asked "that's it?" That doesn't seem like 3 miles."

I said, "yeah I know." Then I suggested that "maybe it was because everyone was just jogging and running slower than usual."

I could feel the temperature in his excitement drop after I suggested that.

I really wasn't trying to ruin his day.

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Graduating from a local college

by B.J. on 11/10/2007 07:27:00 PM 0 comments Print this post

That happened last year. As was a bi-annual eye appointment, a few months later.

My eye doctor is pretty good-looking, which has nothing to do with anything, but has reference just in case she wanted to accidentally slip her hands on to my crotch and start massaging it.

One thing I picked up on and didn't appreciate however was a simple one-line question she made.

Somehow in our conversation while she was checking my eyes out, I told her I graduated just this past June.

She asked in a stunningly innocent yet incisively inquisitive voice, "a local college, right?"

Yeah, I guess you could say that.

"Local" college as if it was a community college or a third tier college. Now, there isn't anything wrong with going to a community college or any other college. Indeed, there are tons of points of brilliant folks saving tons of money at those colleges, getting the same education, learning the same things I learned.

But in this particular conversation, there was a tone of condescension. A tone of condescension where it seemed like she generally didn't think our family was up to great things. Otherwise, why would she say "local?" Why couldn't she assume a "cosmopolitan", a "worldly" school?

Perhaps she could ask or a more open question such as "was it at a college around here?"

But nope, she said...you come from a LOCAL college, right? Because that's what most of us brown Filipino people do. We like to go to LOCAL colleges. Local colleges that are near you, accessible, UNWORLDLY, which is how I ended up at the LOCAL optometrist.

Classic case of the making an ass of you and me, if you know what I mean.

Maybe the way she asked the question also had something to do with me saying just "college," instead of inflaming the conversation with unnecessary bragging.

No one can be as smart YOU, Ms. (kinda-hot-but-probably-has-more-marks-on-her-private-parts-than-Mao-Zedong) Optometrist.

Screw her.

And I would.

Just like any other localized illiterate the world has to offer.

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What I Saw on This Saturday Morning Run

by B.J. on 11/10/2007 03:58:00 PM 0 comments Print this post

It's been quite a while since I last ran more than 10 miles. Today I wasn't going to be content just running the typical Sunset to West Hollywood usually through Beverly Hills and to UCLA, or Griffith Park Boulevard to Los Feliz through Glendale, or Silver Lake to Fletcher through Eagle Rock route.

Those routes...too routine, and I have a sneaking suspicion that I won't ever be able to run a marathon in 2 hours and 9 minutes.

Instead, today I decided on going to downtown LA, and wherever else the road took me.

Started out gloomy and chilly enough by this Angeleno's Standards, which is why I handily wore my winter headband, which suckered me into believing that I was Rafa Marquez, the Barca defender and Mexican hero.

It was a day, a run where I saw how beautiful everything is...and how ugly things can get.

Ran across buildings that have been here since the emergence of LA as a big city 130 years ago.

Shook my head, mentally, with each and every luxury loft occupying tons of space, with the knowledge that Skid Row is literally a block away.

Ran across the Eastern entrance of FIDM. Wondered if the rich white females there would look at me, catch on to my Rafa Marquez headband. and call it the next big thing.

Visited a cool nonprofit that will and has served as my parking lot when I have to go to the Convention Center and/or Staples Center.


Had to see the old Alvarado terrace. There's a little strip of land, as part of Arnold's Parks act, that serves as a "park" with some authentic cobblestone roads. It's always interesting to see something that old.

Saw the old "S.Hoover Apartments" sign on this one building, that I always see when I drive down to this part of town. I can't make up my mind if the structure was built and the lettering was written around the 1890s or 1920s or somewhere in between or heck maybe even later.

Went through to Westmoreland, thinking how it was an enclave for LA's earliest elite, what they and their ancestors would think of it now.

Parused through the old high school. Or should I say "brand-spanking new" old high school. Seems like all anyone has to do to ruin things is burn down one general section of the school. No more street crossing to get to that building across the street, no more on-ground student center, no more sophomore lockers near Pinney.

One of the women I talked to said that it looks like a college campus. Yes, if you're a fan of the "institutional" look that Porter College at UC Santa Cruz sports, then you too might enjoy the new construction.

After that, I ran across some egregious examples of city planning on what was a route for the high school cross country team. The route stretches from Venice westward bound to La Brea. I never noticed how unwalkable it is. Jesus christ, or Councilperson build a fucking side walk!

In other news, "egregious" is rapidly emerging as one of my favorite vocabulary words to casually inject into normal conversation.I didn't realize how far La Brea actually was and could feel the urge to quit bearing down on me.

But I was so far from home that it would've probably taken a 4 hour walk to just to get back. So once I was up La Brea and crossing 1st street, I eventually gave in...5-6 miles to walk...and at a pace you can only expect after running more than 10 miles for the first time in months...without drinking any water, eating anything beforehand.

I'd have to walk up La Brea and wait for Santa Monica Boule to show up.

This is when the sun started to show up a bit more.

I wondered how and why the hell the surveyors measured La Brea heading West.

I saw orthodox Jewish people attending Saturday morning services. Kept wondering if they spoke English. Perhaps that's how some folks in Montana or South Dakota view Mexicans, Arabs, etc. Wondered if they had a myspace and if they would put a grainy self-taken picture of themselves in those suits. Wow, I am showing tons of ignorance, and I guess I know a bit of what it feels like to be one of those people mocking people of color.

Saw some nice graff work across La Brea.

Women with nice fat ischial collosities wearing pants to a point of tightness and you could see the outline of their little cloth (or possibly silk) coverings.

A frail-looking white homeless man offered to suck my dick.

Noticed a water shop on Santa Monica, and that they had dropped their prices for a gallon from 25 cents to 20 cents. Also noticed that Little Ceasar's was selling crazy bread for 2 bucks. Don't even know if the price has gone up or down, but pizza's only 5 bucks!

Saw a bunch of people in the Medical building where I used to go to the Dentist having some kind of conference breakfast or brunch. Still smelled pretty medical --- a strange enticing mixture of basementy and gassy.

Noticed that they've sandblasted a lot of graffiti in the spot leaning up against an Elementary school.

Along the way, I noticed a bunch of other things:

Lot of people working on a Saturday. Mostly the ice cream pushcart vendors, the fruit pushcart vendors, the day laborers at industrial buildings, the people making the comida at las restaurantes centroamericana, the ditch diggers, mass poster plastering. It's interesting how specialized a people we have become. We all do one thing at a time, hope to get paid well, and buy stuff. Yet, this might be changing given the way information is now sent.

I noticed that the areas had more space, the more West I went. Developers from the 1920s and 1930s at work?

I wondered if there were any straight houses in and around the Pico-Union, Alvarado terrace area. Pretty damn big for just families. This is probably something I could just find out by looking at a zoning map, but that can be a daunting task.

Saw private security guards telling homeless people to vacate the premises on several structures with lots of crap in it, usually with people who use paper to acquire the crap. Very popular around 99 cents stores and convenient stores in and around Hollywood, and soon, coming to a city near you!

Tagging is just through the roof nowadays. The Los Angeles mural painted by cache has a bunch of people trying to scratch on it already, and I think that was a pretty dope mural with some credibility, but some people obviously don't think so. Or perhaps Cache shouldn't dominate every damn wall I see in Echo Park and should integrate more folks in his work. I noticed on an affordable housing project, kids had already began tag-scratching it's doors. And that's been up for maybe only 2-3 years. A mural that is currently in work with a bunch of white people on it on is sure to suffer the same fate.

I built up a craving for sweet bread. Saw it first in Echo Park, saw it on Santa Monica, but nothing reasonably walkable, which sent me to thinking about the economic and demographic development of Silver Lake. Only the ever popular Pupusas, and Tacos...in restaurants allowed. No bakeries? One I see is a restaurant and some Filipino bakery.

I continue to be stunned at how people come here to be rebels or "different" and...shop, shop, shop...for furniture, vintage furniture, vintage clothing, shoes, gelatto, vegan crap, coffee. Shopping...the most undifferent thing you can do. The people in Silver Lake make me mad sometimes.

But all in all the day was pretty damn fun, more food for thought or perhaps a waste of time for some.

The road I took took me down Sunset to the borderline between Chinatown and downtown. From downtown to the Staples Center From the Staples Center to Loyola High school. From the high school to La Brea. And from La Brea to back home. It started out gloomy and chill and ended sunny and chilly. Ran through a mix of enclaves, with the businesses offered in English, Spanish, Korean, Armenian, Jewish, Tagalog. I thought about George Carlin's meme of how we've turned America into a mall. Thought about architecture, urban planning, race relations, personal relations, language, and the physiology of the brain.

In the words of Forrest Gump, I just felt like running.

But not without my Livestrong, Enriching Lives, Justice for Immigrants, and Serve the People wristbands.


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Well, Fuck You Too

by B.J. on 10/24/2007 09:19:00 PM 0 comments Print this post

Today, I went to the park to play my round of football/basketball. Football/basketball a game where someone tries to kick a soccer ball into the basketball hoop.

This fuckhead couple comes in while I'm clearly playing and using the hoop. They decide to play a game. Now, I don't mind shooting around, while I'm shooting around, but where's your courtesy? Can you wait? I had to wait, why can't you?

Oh is it because I look like a quiet guy, I'm not going to say anything.

Well, I just proved you right.

I hate being a pushover. I so badly wanted to Ong bak that motherfucker with chop sticks and rape the grass off his stupid bitch. Noting that USC sweatshirt this asshole had on, I really wanted to say to them things like "what the dorm room wasn't good enough for you two?" These are the times that I wish I had steel spikes at the bottom of my shoes. It would serve the purpose of eliminating unnecessary additions to our gene pool.

So to express my anger, I was trying to let it out in various ways.

First way, I kicked the soccer ball as hard as I can against the trash can. 3 times.

First time, I missed the goddamn ball and hit it awkwardly. I still had to chase it. Second time, perfect hit, but could've been harder. Third time, I missed the trash can and it sailed to that stupid fucking couple.

Then I decided to kick the steel trash can.

It made a booming noise, and those fuckheads took notice. I felt it.

I wanted to do it again!

I wanted to smash it, desensitize my leg, and smash the can like a Yaya Toure or Didier Drogba kick with the Tony Jaa smoothness and fluidity.

I decided that after I made my last kick shot, I would kick the trash can again. After all, this would assert my presence on the court and show them that shouldn't have fucked with a crazy person.

So I made the shot.

Crazy person indeed. The kind that belongs in a halfway house.

My big toe took up the brunt of the pain. I thought to myself, "so is this what broken toes feel like?" I didn't kick it with the laces.

I couldn't kick the soccer ball again if I wanted to.

I really hate people.

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by B.J. on 5/21/2006 02:08:00 PM 0 comments Print this post

What I Learned from UCLA This Year

No, this is not a graduation post.

This is a what I learned from UCLA this year post as if I'm a first year or second year recapping what happened.

Yeah.

So.

I became more hip-hop, history of medicined, more community organized, and went all out doing stuff.

(Dang, how we define ourselves by institutions?)

But some concerns about all those gains because when you become more specialized in something you most likely lose your talent or feel for something else:

1) Can I gain back that intellectual power I thought I had ? Can I still find the interesting in the uninteresting ?
2) Have I faced anything that tough ?

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by B.J. on 7/15/2005 01:23:00 AM 0 comments Print this post

Never Mind

Despite my linguistic justifications earlier, there was NO reason to see Lords of Dogtown and all its Eurocentricity. I guess I was more hyped up on the documentary than that idiotic movie.

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by B.J. on 5/28/2005 10:13:00 PM 0 comments Print this post

I'm Not a Psychologist but. . .

I don't think it's a good thing to be falling asleep just thinking about what you're going to write for your 10-page term paper worth 45% of your grade due on Tuesday that you have not started on.

I've already written more in this entry than that paper.

The dog days of studenthood. I hate this paper. I this class.

Once I get over with this and hopefully pass, I will probably completely forget how much it sucks to be put in this position the next time I am in a predicament like this.

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by B.J. on 5/11/2005 12:33:00 AM 2 comments Print this post

Hella Fucking Rude

All I could do was wish that this guy would get his ass raped in prison because of what he did. Another white guy taking something from a brown person. A brown woman.

This was the kind of mundane thing that really momentarily ruined what was mi cumpleanos veinte uno.

As I was sitting down on the stairs in front of the magazine section at the Bruinstore waiting for the Bayanihan meeting, there was a couch with a pile of books on it. Clearly someone had occupied it, and so that's why I sat on the stairs adjacent to those couches. No big deal.

A few minutes later this 6 foot white guy slightly resembling Prince Harry with a quesadilla has the nerve to ask me if someone was sitting in that same seat with the books on it. I thought to myself, "well why the fuck do you think I'm sitting here", but instead I gave the "I don't know" kind of look because it's only assumed that people are sitting in a certain spot if they leave a pile of personal belongings such as a binder or books on a couch.

After looking around for about a minute, the dude decides to remove this pile of notebooks and binders from the couch and lay it on the ground. He plumps down and grubs on his quesadilla.

I was then thinking, "what the fuck makes him think that he's ENTITLED him to a seat, and not me ?"

About two minutes later, a little brown girl about 4 feet 11 walks back to pick up her belongings on the floor.

The white guy, with clearly no intention of moving from his chair, as he sits down eating his quesadilla looking like he can't be bothered instead of standing up and offering the chair he STOLE asks, "oh, do you want me to move ?"

The 4 foot 11 brown girl can only smile out of courtesy and say, "no it's OK."

That one faint OK, was all it took and it reinforced in the white guys mind that he's ENTITLED to sitting on couches that have their belongings on it.

I don't know him, but the dude and his actions reminded me of Harry Potter's obnoxious fat stepbrother who thinks he's entitled to everything of Harry's.

Hopefully next time, the couch this dude removes belongings from is some kind of long-haired psychotic killer's belongings, so that killer without thinking could slice (not stab, we don't want killing here) that jerkoff in the face. The jerkoff would have one diagonally-cutting scar across his face. That would really stop him from doing this again.

But back in the real world, I stared at the brown girl in 1/3rds disgust that she should do something, 1/3rds disgust that I should do something, and the last 3rd of me being disgusted at the manners this white guy displayed. I felt like I should've thrown my Newsweek at him.

But instead, I only walked away full of adrenaline from the anger I had built up watching this situation. I only meekly dumped the newsweek on the stairs, partly to signal that I was pissed off to this white guy. The white dude didn't even turn, and I only left work for the Bruinstore employees to pick up and put back my magazine.

No, what I saw wasn't blatantly racist on the part of the white guy. If anything, it was just a symbol of how helpless a little brown girl or even a little brown boy can often be in society's everyday functioning. I bring up race and size because I feel like it would've made a difference.

Would the dude have acted the same if it was another 6-foot white guy ? Or some sort of white chick ? Would he have gotten up ?

I don't know what he would've done, but I know the dude didn't even flinch about what he did to the brown girl. And here I am posting about it. That pisses me off like you don't know.

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by B.J. on 4/24/2005 10:26:00 PM 0 comments Print this post

Welcome Back

I could never really get around to bragging how much better my life was in LA. All I could tell Jole, DSLars, and Dima was my observations in LA, and then we'd do something Santa Cruz.

For at least two days I definitely felt like the "Slu" part of the Student Hybrid "Sluin" (Slug and Bruin, a more phonetic and less-controversial expression of a UCSC-UCLA transfer than "Banana Bruin") rise in me. You know, with slug veins all over my face and everything. Only that I was actually driving around school and had to actually sleep in Danny's ketchup-scented, debris-infested downtown room at the University Town Center.

But everything that was Santa Cruz for me was still Santa Cruz.

Haha.

Which means, nothing was too shocking or "exotic". Everything just kinda happened. There was no conception of the real world as everything seemed surreal. There was no memory of what you would do in the past elsewhere as time was simply locked in an endless, but calming flow. Be it:

- The large swamp of revolutionary bumper sticker filled cars.

- The harmless bums downtown.

- Natty bridges, and it's natural beauty.

- Dippin' Dots at the boardwalk. The fucking ice cream of the future.

- Tent University. . .fuck the police ! Seriously. Those fucking police should have their asses sued for suffocating these peaceful protestors.

- The random washed-out middle-aged dirty white dude out of nowhere on Cedar Street asked Daniel to tell him specifically that it wasn't going to rain. Daniel stepped back, talked to him like he was any other dude, and said. . .it wasn't going to rain ! We stepped back and acted like nothing happened. Like I said, you expect anything there.

Whatever is that I saw happen, happened at a sluggish, but flowy Bob Marley-joint pace.

Most especially with the PCC afterparty. 2 hours after PCC, Roys friends were still drinking. They figured they get wasted there and that the cops wouldn't bust the party for a while. They were right. The PCC afterparty didn't even really begin till 12:30 A, despite the show ending at 10 P.

Half the fun at SC would not be possible without my friends, Joel, Daniel, and Roy. It was like I never left. . .something I realized as I walked up Science Hill after hiking the quarry with Daniel.

Half the fun of being with my friends was talking shit in person, complete with impressions and gestures, with people who understood me and my language.

Especially when Roy and I jokingly made diss-references to Botchoy, Elle, and Jacilicious for no good reason.

Of course we, including Danny also spent a lot of time talking about the female gender and our pathetic and funny shortcomings. Though separately. . .which reminds me. . . I am mediating between the two powers. LOL, you fools gotta stop taking shots at each other, unless its all in fun and understanding in front of each other.

I also forgot how much I hated Cowell. But dissing Cowell College for its dogged "commitment to diversity" just brought it all back. Heh. Actually, when I went back to visit Harlan, the leafy smell as I headed up Beard House just brought back memories of how loose and how much white and Asian girls would get thumped. I remember thinking at one point in time, and actually still do: No one is innocent at UCSC !

While conversation is about half the fun with my friends at SC (that's the remaining 50% of the 50% of fun while at SC you math whizzes), the stuff we did was also fun.

It's always fun to support the little Chinese kids by buying Chinese food at the Metro station. Heh, Joel, DS and I determined that whoever did not want to go there was probably not worthy of being any of our friends.

The ritual of the obligatory Black and Mild cigar from 7-11 with Daniel and Joel. One I started when I first got to Santa Cruz and continued till last year. However instead of the fourth floor of Prescott, we did it at the UTC facing an alley in the rain. Hardocre. We either looked real badass or real stupid. Probably more towards real stupid as we used up about half the matches before any of us could light it up.

And PCC 14.

Oh, big Des on the low low, you seriously, seriously missed out. And anyone else who did not go, did too.

Apparently, Roy still had about 40% of his material used in the play. . .and I guess I could verify it by looking at the script. . .and it was pretty fucking good. . .very fucking good. Leaps and bounds better than PCC 2004. Front row seats, too.

Very innovative and creative stuff.

Isang Himig did all a capella and ended up sounding real good. LOL, good job Crown guy. . .busting out the conductor's stick and everything. . .either too full of himself or he's such a geek. Probably both, but everything sounded airtight. Nothing other than Crown guy that I could poke holes in.

Haluan's hip-hop dancing was very very good. Very tight as usual.

The commercials were way too much. Holy shit. Holy. I'm smiling big just thinking about the Filipino Basedow, the Rocky music playing with the tall guy doing all this training for Tinikling, the Boy's greatest hits. Oh man. That really killed.

And of course People Power, anchored by Calvin and Roy's friend, Winston, held it down. Ronna was of course her usual "ma landi" character and always manages to steal quite a few laughs with her antics. That mother of Winston's character was awesome as well. According to Roy, the cast members did a lot of improvising because they hated the new and revised script.

However, if there's one complaint I have about PCC or the Filipino group in general, it's that the Santa Cruz FSA has a definite hierarchy. It's a social one, but I'm in a completely different world now at LA.

But anyway I saw a lot of the chick I loved staring at; don't know if she remembered me or if she cared to. Probably not. Bittersweet it is. I have a better chance of getting into Harvard than ever getting her, being that I live a good 6 hour drive away from Santa Cruz.

Ahhh.

Santa Cruz.

What a world I left. My time there was just all one big dream, which is why I become nostalgic and kinda sad whenever I listen to "Only in Dreams" by Weezer. However, my time there was not all great and fun as it did rain and I did have those lonely moments, but it's definitely always a step out of "reality" there. I still don't know if that's a bad or good thing, but what I do know. . .It's. . .

A place of creativity. Where I learned to think. And think critically and take care of myself. Take care of myself not just logistically but also. . .holistically.

I'm back in LA now.

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by B.J. on 4/10/2005 03:38:00 PM 0 comments Print this post

Super Mario Bros. 3, You Are Officially PWNED !, Says Notorious Delas Armas Clan

After 14 years of getting to the 8th level with the 3 whistles he would acquire every game and never doing anything about advancing past the grabbing hands, much relief has been achieved in the Delas Armas Household.

At about 3:30 on a sunny Sunday afternoon when plenty of people would be outdoors, the two rivals within the Delas Armas household were inside and celebrating their improbable victory over the well-championed video game Super Mario Bros. 3. This was their first victory over the game after many years of heartbreaking disappointment and frustration.

"I never thought that when I was sleeping this afternoon after having had that recurring food coma that always seems to occur on the weekends when I'm at home eating home-cooked meals that I would actually beat this game today," noted Brian J. Delas Armas, gamer for 13 of those years.

Before this man of spunk and temerity heroically slayed the dragon that was Super Mario Bros. 3, he had a vision.

"I dreamed that the Mario Bros game that my sister was playing would never turn off, despite my attempts to unplug the Nintendo. We were stuck in castle-land forever. But you know what ? I had another dream after that. My dad would call me from atop a hill and I would jump up and slowly glide down."

The victory marks a complete gain in the relations within the notorious Delas Armas clan. The two juggled responsibilities when it came down to the last stage of the marathonous game.

"In Koopa's castle I would let Camille get through the flying balls of doom and that since I would have more composure and calmer mindset, that I would take care of the donut lifts. It took about 27 lives but it made a great one-two punch."

While unity and harmony has been achieved in the household between the two parties, that may not last forever. But for now they have something to hold onto.

"I told her that she was Kobe and I was Shaq, cause of course you know how bad Kobe is doing and how high-flying Shaq is, heh heh, but anyways, I told her that like them in the past we'd bring home the non-prize-winning title of video game supremacy within the 8-bit no-memory card video game itself today. And well. . .we did."

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by B.J. on 4/03/2005 06:20:00 AM 0 comments Print this post

A Funny Fucking Nightmare

So I was there about to fail a fucking test. Not just any fucking test. . .a fucking math test.

What the hell was I doing taking a math test ?

Well, it appeared that I needed to complete my math college credits after all, strangely back in my 11th-12 grade teacher Mr. Pascale's classroom, full of students who had attended class.

Right when I walked in, some random white guy who was in a preceding dream (which I've forgotten) asked me to give him the answers to this test via his cellphone as As he settled down in some desk, Pascale yelled at him in that manner that he always had. Though generally an affable guy, Pascale is this big, intimidating guy with the capacity to outyell a lion and a knack for making you feel pretty low especially come testing time.

I walked in feeling guilty because I had ditched class all quarter and here was Mr. Pascale right before the test talking up how hard it was, but in a way that said I-know-you-guys-and-I'm-going-to-give-you-a-boost kind of way to the virtuous students who had attended class regularly.

I'm pretty sure he looked at me and just didn't want to say anything to my class-ditching ass. I was the last person he would want to give a boost to. He was probably thinking, "man what happened to that virtuous, quiet Delas Armas kid who would ask for help occasionally ?" Then that thought was probably rimmed over by "oh well, he's going to run over by this test. . .but much worse than those other kids."

So that's what was going through my mind before I took the test. I was going to turn in the test right away and accept my F and hopefully somehow make it up during the quarter. I was also thinking how I should've dropped the class maybe like I should have dropped the History of Medicine 3D (hopefully that's not the case as my grade is still not revealed to me) rather than take the test.

Right before the test comes up, Piero Gonzalez, fellow OMGCer, Acting Friend, fellow Loyolan, current Brigham Youngin', turns around in a desk to my right in front of me tells me he's going to fail, that he didn't study all the material in the book. I sat there thinking, yeah but you still know worlds more than me cause you've actually been to class and do your homework. Shut the hell up, Piero. Stop rubbing it in.

I opened and took one glance at the book I never opened and it indeed looked really complicated. Each of the problems looked like they had a long process that required deciphering and translating. On top of that, usually I'm not really good at remembering these long processes without long intensive study. To think, all this could have been avoided had I gone to class. At least I would know where to begin. I'm pretty sure there were matrices and sigmas --- just stuff that I really couldn't wing.

Then some kind of Hawaiian Music with Kanye West played and the test began.

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by B.J. on 3/17/2005 10:38:00 PM 0 comments Print this post

Failure

Here we are with my middle-class college kid problems. Problems nonetheless. Just received my cue to chase bigger things. I got my fuel that'll help me rise above this crud that I feel I'm in. I won't badmouth anyone, I can't blame anyone for not knowing what I know.

Next time I walk into an interview, I need to be detached with something to prove, and like I own the bastards.

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by B.J. on 3/14/2005 07:08:00 PM 0 comments Print this post

PWNED ! Moment of the Day

As I turned on Veteran to I was in the back of no one.

Parking was unusually packed tight for a Monday morning.

But then I spotted one, just a little far away in between cars. So I signaled and put the car in just to lay claim to the spot.

As I turn back to see if there were any cars the blonde in a BMW trailing me is visibly cursing, subsequently making a left on some house across the street into their driveway. A few seconds later she backs out and drives back and I see her still cursing.

Spoiled bitch who's had everything handed to her in her life. It was only for a few seconds and she probably went back to her joyous life of getting humped in the finest hotels with the silkiest beds and completely forgot about the moment. But for me, it was good to see that for once she didn't get things her way and that she got mad. Ladies and gentlemen, the PWNED ! moment of the day.

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by B.J. on 10/30/2004 10:49:00 PM 0 comments Print this post

The Dude Who Cut Me in Line at Jack in the Box

I lost my temper. I fucking bitch-chris cold knocked him in the face and broke his jaw like a 5'8 Ricky Manning Jr. (former UCLA football player) did to an asshole 6'4 security guard. At least that's how I remember it.

Of course, however, I would be in jail if I actually did that. But it would've been nice. All that action --- just for cutting in line ?! WTF.

I know, I know. I know how endlessly stupid that sounds, but it makes sense.

It would've also been nice if this situation did not ever happen, if he just let me take my goddamn order. After all, I had the foresight to actually sort of stand in the shorter line and wait for someone to order, but then seeing that the person in my line finished ordering before his did, he cut me off.

However, it isn't so much him cutting me off in line as much as it is him reminding me of my social status and how de-valued I am in just this everyday situation.

If he didn't cut me off in line, I wouldn't have been reminded that I am: short, Filipino, nerdy-looking, and/or immature. On top of that he was just a regular white dude, working for Bud Light, doing some kind of man's job. I am 20 years old, but I would not be considered a man at all like he would be, just by looks.

How does it get to an issue of all these externalities ?

Well, would that have happened to a regular-sized white or black male ?

I doubt it. If you are one of those things that I am likely to be identified with, you know you constantly have to prove yourself and wake people up to your point of view. Breaking that asshead's face would do more than wake him up. If I could re-do that scene, I would punch him in the face multiple times like in Mystic River when Brandon smashes this kid's face till the kid looks like he got beaten with an Oakland-style baseball/beatdown bat. And all he would say mad trying to shout but meekly like that 15-year old boy with his voice shrieking and shaking "he fucking punched (hyphenated high voice on the "punch") me ! " Boohoo, mothafucka.

It's assheads like him that enable me to understand firsthand the mindset of a "terrorist."

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by B.J. on 1/14/2004 04:11:00 AM 0 comments Print this post

Angelo, ohhhhh Angelou

This long-haired stereotypical Santa Cruzan named Angelo was just sitting down playing video games. Crappy old ones like Mortal Kombat or Mario Kart. He came to this party just to do that. He didn't come to socialize, didn't come to drink, and he didn't. Meanwhile the biggest nerd this side of Urkel, Max, is drinking about 5 shots of 40% alcohol. He's a lil buzzed, but the party's progressing well. Music is bumping, more alch on the way.

Knock ! Knock ! Knock !

(about 2 seconds later) Party's over !

:everyone scrambles:

"Alright line-up and show me your ID card," the proctor says.

Typical Santa Cruzan Angelo is the first to be seen by the proctor so he's at the door first. Proctor tersely asks, "Have YOU been drinking ?"

:Pause with his head down, then finally. . .: No.

The proctor raises a suspicious eyebrow that rivals the Rock on what looks to be a typical blunt-smoking, drinking hippie Santa Cruzan.

"Hmm..."

Proctor checks a yes for drinking.

Three people later, it's good ole-chess-playing Max up to face this bs-detecting machine. Hrah ! Max has braces and glasses. He's also notorious for tucking in his t-shirt. Sheesh.

Proctor sees this (he's known Max from playing chess late-night with some anti-social entity who barely exists) asks immediately in with a smile, "YOU haven't been drinking have you ?"

Max clings tightly on to that and says no. He even discusses the origin of his last name on his student ID card.

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by B.J. on 9/17/2003 06:58:00 PM 0 comments Print this post

Breaking Down the Angers

Pops has been reading a funny, yet informative book entited Dealing With People You Can't Stand. It's interesting and informative, but it's not where the family's problem lies.

My fam is some funny peoples. We get mad so easily on the road that it can potentially not be funny. We get mad at strangers on the road. It's about one of the few times you can find any one of them unrelaxed and unhappy. This instantly developed anger we have from time-to-time determines the mood and tone of the day rather than something more important like the Bears sucking so badly.

For example, my dad chased to cut off some stupid
pick-up with a Marines sticker about 10 blocks from our original destination because it had cut us off twice in a Walmart parking lot on our way to yet another Filipino family party. As if the moment was frozen in time via a grainy, 1960s grainy NFL films video focusing on a crushing hit that would pop off a helmet, he made the tight lane switch to cut off the pick-up. A silent surge of joy for a split second. Then, "WHOA DAD ! That was tight !" Then an enthusiastic high five with the sister. My mom could only sigh with a "langya" look on her face. Some family fun, indeedy.

While chasing that one punk for 10 blocks was exciting, it was probably not the best way we could have handled things (or so society says so). But we got mad because we only saw the result of him cutting us off. We didn't see the rationale of the result; we didn't see if he cut us off unintentionally because he had to go somewhere. If it was some family friend that cut us off unknowingly, we would have laughed and joked it off.

Because we didn't know more of the Marines dude and he impersonally did something wrong to us, we got mad. And luckily nothing came over it.

It's easy to laugh at us. But this instantly developed anger is what consciously or unconsciously drives Americans in general to do stupid things. It's the haste, the heat of the moment that forces us to make stupid decisions. The easy-to-use-iness of guns and instant fire caters well to this society of speed. 11,000 in America die thanks to this speed and ease that guns provide in comparison to 60 in Canada with even more lenient gun laws.

More broadly, when "people" are blinded to what happens to "other" people, and those "other" people do something to annoy "people", "people" will get mad, fail to understand the "other" people, and see only negativity in "other" people. For example, the 9/11 attacks have lead the fallen Dennis Millers of the world to demonize Middle Easterners. Race and ethnicity are the easiest way to identify and demonize. When something bad happens, "people" only see differences in the strangers. As a result of seeing negativity, "people" will consciously or subconsciously stereotype "other" people and create more seperation.

It's one root cause other than the media to how the poor become lazy, blacks are scary and athletic, gays just want to rape you.

People are not people in this society of speed, fear, and indulgence.

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by B.J. on 9/04/2003 07:02:00 AM 0 comments Print this post

Early Today

It was just like old times as a procrastinating high school junior/senior. I was doing some stupid paper while watching the Early Today show on NBC at 4:30 in the morning. Damn I hated those times.

I did anything to stay awake. The show at least helped to sustain my awakeness throughout the procrastination sessions with its sparkling, early riser, fresh as the sunrise music playing before each commercial break, which made for a good quick shot to the arm every time I dozed off at the chair. Through my grogginess and knowledge that I would be seeing only guys the whole day, even the host, Nanette Hansen, looked like the hottest thing since the Chicago Fire of 1871. There were way too many economic details that I gave no shit about or else quickly forgot. I never really paid attention to the actual news because I thought I didn't have any space in my head to simultaneously think about the news and my paper(s).

The only thing I did notice from time to time was the weather from which I always wondered about two things.

First, the weatherman shows/showed national weather with descriptions of weather trends across the nation in a vast array of rainbow colors and then told us, "now lets have a look at your neck of the woods" as if we from Los Angeles were going to get a weather report on local Los Angeles. The audience is then treated to a second of silence as if the show is trying to get the feed from Los Angeles only to hear the weatherman's voice again and see the same exact national weather board with a dull sandy color away and temperatures of the major cities.

And with those major cities, I also wondered why there would only be 1 or 2 temperatures told in California when they had about 8-10 in just the Northeast repeating the same temperatures. Stupid Northeastern bias.

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by B.J. on 7/16/2003 04:36:00 PM 0 comments Print this post

Confirming Cressa's Observations and Weird-Ass Links

You are DORY!
What Finding Nemo Character are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Great.

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