Every Sunday Morning, a place where various things get thrown out, shot at, cut open, and dissected. Topics of interest: psychological, and medical anthropology, privatization, globalization, excess, language, humor, hip-hop culture, jazz, brain and mind, memory, urban space development, Los Angeles, the Chicago Bulls, UCLA Bruins, FC Barcelona, and mankind.
Yesterday, at about 7:30 PM Pacific Time, I get a call from one, Daniel Larson, Oakland native with the sailor's discourse, Leon Powe's classmate, future mother-fuckin' Golden Gate University Law school graduate.
He says he's in LA! Back from another year at Beijing. Just like he said on the facebook, but I rarely take anyone's promises seriously on facebook.
During his time there, he carved up a niche as an English language teacher. He went from university students to rich kids. He had enough money to rent an apartment and pile it on when he got here. He even got some of that live orange-tang. This motherfucker was living the life.
Then they tell him that they won't be able to renew his visa.
So he was here. First thing he did was go to the 99 cents store to buy a pair of socks and toothpaste. 99 Cents store is unabomber crazy ridic. Went to eat expensive-ass hipster Mexican food, with 'Yell putting his Negro O Modelo in a fuckin' wine glass. Then simmered down with a string of NBA Street 2 games.
Turns out the 'Yell is just one small part of a mass eviction. So I was basically chilling with a live-walking news story yesterday.
If he renewed his visa, it would've cost him $1100 US dollars as opposed to the $20 he usually paid. Somewhat out of range for a guy who got his money under the table and in cash.
Apparently, during the olympics people will now have to walk around at all times with their papers. Now that's immigration enforcement to the max. Kinda ironic that the borders are getting tighter at a time when they want to show their connection to the international community.
The rich international community.
This was supposed to be a big coming out party in terms of certifying itself as a cosmopolitan globalized middle-class burgeoisie-lifestyle and experience. Stadiums were to be built, new infrastructure and transportation was developed, slums were to be cleared.
But everything seems to have been sour so far: from the international torch relays being crashed by protestors to the fact that tourism is down.
Maybe it's my reactionary response to American media discourse, but I feel bad for Beijing in relation to the rest of the world cities who've hosted Olympics. Didn't seem like those other cities had to go through half the crap that they have.
If I could find/grow food, find and filter water, generate electricity, build a house, maintain my own vehicle, then there would be absolutely no reason to go after any money.
In all seriousness, these are my top 10 favorite females. For me, they all represent something more than just good-looking females. They are each a combo of aesthetic pleasure, intelligence, and strength --- usually relating to and reminding me of a component of my vida.
Before I spill my list, I urge you to read an article recently posted on Alternet. An article about the over-sexualization of our culture. Right here.
Kinda odd, since part of what I write seems like objectification especially in regards to Salma Hayek, Shakira, Mya, and Livia Andrade. Can't say that I'm completely "conscious" all the time, but the hard facts are that these are the women burned into my memory. If it's any consolation, I really really value what the top 2 bring to the media above anything else.
1.Alicia Keys
My boo.
Love her hip-hop, her curves, her smarts.
2.Norah Jones
Single-handedly responsible for my infatuation with Indian women early in college. Daughter of an honorary Banana Slug and world figure Ravi Shankar who performed with the Beatles.
Jazz and blues...country-simple living...seemingly simple person but with lots of complexity and ambiguity. Can't find a super-hot here's-her-ass picture of her, but whatever, it's all good. I love that she doesn't (or at least looks like she doesn't) try too hard at all.
3.Scarlett Johansson
All I can remember was her smile, her legs, and confidence in Lost in Translation.
She's been disappointing in every other context outside of this movie. She could be so much more. I guess I would describe her as the Carmelo Anthony or Tyrus Thomas of women actors.
4.Raven Symone
Love the fact that she's thick and has bags for days, and doesn't give a crap.
5.Salma Hayek
From Dusk Till Dawn.
OMFGGTFO.
The sexiest role I've ever seen played by anyone, ever, in the history of movie-making, play-writing, whatever.
Downside is knowing that the asshead director, Quentin Tarantino of course managed to get himself some of the action.
6.Shakira
This is how the female body is supposed to move. A collection of booty.
Shakira in a bikini.
7.Tea Leoni
When I lived in the townhouse and we used to watch a lot of TV, we used to buy TV guide magazines. The one below we had and we never tossed it into the recycling bin. It was just there.
I guess I looked at it enough to the point where the image burned into my mind. It was an image that showed how nice legs were supposed to be.
Later in life, I saw some Christmas movie with Nicholas Cage. She played his wife or supposed-to-be wife. That's when I noticed her face.
The most aesthetically-pleasing older woman ever.
8.Mya
Completely, utterly, fucking blown away by her It's All About Me Video when it first came out. Was shocked at the skin, the 'tude...wow...
ALWAYS being extremely sexy in every type of media I find her in. That's her goddamn job.
9.Livia Andrade
Other than studying favelas and futbol, she's got at least 3 of the reasons why I need to move to Brasil.
God. Damn.
10.Michelle Branch
There was really one FHM interview she did that really turned me onto her.
She talked about how most of her fans tended to be 12-13 year old boys, BUT, no one, in her own words..."NO ONE old enough to take back to the hotel."
I love the workings of that perverted mind behind the clean face, clean music, and uneven body.
Plus, I love the Game of Love. Was a good, clean, fun anthem for the Super Bowl and other events of 2004. But of course knowing what she thinks about sex too, she probably had perverted sensual images subliminally invoked into that song too.
by B.J. on 5/23/2008 09:02:00 PM
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I was just websurfing on a Friday night. Happened upon a newly wedded old Muslim friend's xanga site. Then happened upon her friend's site. This friend of a friend directed a PCN, a Pilipino Cultural Night, that I had watched at SD and even let me crash at her place for the night.
She posted something interesting about consumerism that I had been wanting to post, but I never really quite put it all together. I've wanted to talk even more about the consumer culture we live in, and explain how I try and live outside of it as much as possible. These notes she wrote about are a good springboard for me.
This is what caught my eye...particularly because Dom wrote that on my shirt, and the song by Kanye is on heavy repeat.
""American Dream": ownership, family first, white picket fence, "2.5 kids," inward focused life = protective, exclusion, money for vacations, social status, financial stability, disposable income, productivity, time equals money, focus on what you have, shopping as recreation, if you want something you should have it, more cars than drivers, having the latest of everything, kids are involved in everything and attend private/prestigious schools"
Redefinition: perhaps involving redefining what is "best," outward focused = good life for everyone (redistributing) considering all of humanity, living sustainably, rich relationships (spend time, not money), cultivate talents, stronger connection to the earth, peace of mind/contentment, self-reflection/awareness, community involvement, balance of work, play, health, conscious consuming, quality time, shared resources, freedom to pursue dreams/passions, access to nature, freedom from financial fears, quality food with friends, time for creativity, value shift out from under the burden of productivity, slowing down, living by the rhythms of life and the cycles of the seasons
Where do you get caught up? · Self-comparison · When you are at the end of your rope and need a quick fix/act of desperation
I guess this is fine cause we all fall, but not too much.
· Community reinforcement · Traditions, gifts, souvenirs · Convenience · Laziness · Wastefulness · Unconscious consuming · Societal expectations · Have to "own" otherwise your not fiscally responsible/successful
This is something I've just discovered: you don't have to own something to utilize it. I "own" lots of books, but what it's ultimately useless if those books and knowledge don't even end up being circulated in my consciousness and used by me.
· Earning more money to keep up same lifestyle
The old saying about teaching a man to fish. I'm sick of paying people to do things for me. To cut up, fry, and cook my food.
It makes me think what the hell I've really learned in 24 years. All I've learned is how to pay for things, that I'm really too dependent on others, that I'm blessed, and damn, I need to do something.
· Over-commitments/ energy spread too thin · Impulse buys
How do you break the cycle? · Setting boundaries: · Budget/limit
When you're breaking any cycle, it's important at first to set boundaries and reach goals, just to give you a bit of confidence that you can get through something. Then once you meet those goals, just slowly cut back and cut down.
For instance, Facebook and I. I made a goal to not be in it for a year. I really wanted to stop wishing, hoping, and clinging on to these fantasy people that I barely even knew. I needed to stop stalking. Goddamn it was pathetic.
I didn't reach the 1-year goal as I've joined back, but given that I initially set hard boundaries and have made it less a part of my life, it's become exactly just that: less a part of my life. I've discovered that there are a lot more interesting things outside of that reality...
· Creative ways of giving out gifts · Breaking traditions or redefining · Small steps/changes · Pulling people alongside with similar values · Being a voice to others · Curbing Media Intake!
Speaking of reality...
Reality is what you take into your world. And if all you take in is crap, your reality is crap.
· Spread awareness · Sharing: possessions, housing · Intentional community · Become an educated consumer · When you do something you love, you feel full and need less · Periodically do an internal values check to make sure your actions are line with values · Move somewhere simpler/slower · List where your time is going to see what your priorities are · Cut out things that are unnecessary · Intentionally decrease your means so that you are forced to be more intentional with what you spend (make a financial commitment, start saving, work less)
When I heard about how PTSP Bayanihan's Student Empowerment Networking Day (SEND) took off the year after I left...
AND...
That they still expect BIG things this year...
I feel like the subject of this video...
I can't believe people actually call it SEND now, like it's an institutional thing that just naturally happened. Oh, of course, SEND, Student Empowerment Networking Day, as if I wasn't looked at as a crazy for changing the name, Bruin 4 a Day, of something PTSP had done for a while.
But I believe it had to be done to fit more with what we were trying to accomplish: building that community feeling and building those connections between people. It was about giving that genuine feel you belong at a place like UCLA...even if they say no...you gotta believe...you still belong.
I guess it's great that SEND doesn't have to worry about all those organizing snafus I hit, but now, I'm hoping for quality. If there were a few things I wished for, I wish I had all the soljahs who were with me at the beginning there and we put more in place to follow-up with the students afterward and continued the dialogue we had established. I believe that's the heart of the work.
They say that written English is a very different language than spoken Southern California English.
I am not very happy of how limiting and how fast spoken Southern California English is. It feels like a foreign language when I speak it sometimes because I can't always find the correct word to express what I mean. I don't know if I made this metaphor, but speaking the spoken word that isn't written down is like novice bowling...you aim to say one thing, you might hit the point, but sometimes it goes in an unexpected direction.
To being Filipino. MOTHERFUCKER, I'm Filipino. I'm proud sometimes, embarrassed, don't notice most of the time (thank god for LA yo). Growing up with other Filipinos, in Filipino culture. Am I going to do anything else other than be a Filipino?
Can I be a synthesis of Jared Diamond, a Robert Sapolsky, a Ben Gordon without being just a watered-down Filipino version of anyone?
Watching American Idol and seeing the clowns particularly that blonde who can suck it like a car wash vacuum and the mini-GQ-version of Joakim Noah made it in over Ramiele Malubay annoys me even more. I love that she, Ramiele, wanted so badly to be the first Asian American idol. It's all love for someone like her.
Truth is we as Filipinos don't have too many people in the media whose images we can masturbate to over and over again other than random youtube videos about prisoners dancing, HappySlip, Chad Hugo, Apl.de.ap, and watching Hook over and over again. I guess were on the come up, but the game seems so rigged.
I mean, I don't expect much from a mass-audience, audience-driven show in America, but still it's one little notch of annoyance that makes me want to throw a wrench in shit.
I feel like I'm in such a different spot right now.
With a job, but about to be without one. It's going to feel weird. Everyone seems to miss you only when you say you'll be gone, but I felt the love even during the time I was there.
I'm going to miss is the people I've interacted with while on the job. Kids at the public housing site, volunteers, Mexican women, Thai women, Filipinos, blacks, whites, different leaders, different working people.
All this love...it's something I definitely would love to hold onto, capture, lay on, rest on but life ain't like that...everything's always in motion and fluid, but that doesn't mean you can't keep making happy things happen.
It's euphoric...I've never felt the love of folks, like I've felt it in the last few months.
I've always had a hate-love relationship with people in general. I've felt like I've had a good start with people, but have found a way to be let down.
Not so anymore.
Maybe because I've taken this "walking around in people's shoes" thing to a new level and I miss people's bad acts a lot more often now.
All these people taking me out to lunch, culminating in a pot luck, plus having so many other friends outside, I feel like I have the whole world in my hands.
I'm just thinking, it wouldn't be bad to have a kid some day. But there was something I gleaned out out of all this watching.
The video speaks a bit to the human follies and challenges in the development of our abilities to communicate with one other.
Here's the video:
Stop at 55 seconds.
The second his father stops laughing, he thinks he's finally gotten his father's attention to an urgent situation. Just for confirmation that his father knows the situation, he blurts out a throwaway but final "buh-lud". However, it turns out that his father's actually holding it and this sends him into a very thunderous burst of laughter.
The Buhlud kid isn't sure for a split second of what to do. At about 55 seconds, for a split second, it actually looks like he's going to start laughing. He doesn't expect his dad to laugh anymore, he's supposed to understand!
After a split-second of indecision he finally decides the correct emotion to show: he's mad. And by god will he show it. He won't be taken seriously by dad? Fine. So he yells, prepares us with a mad face, and stomps down the definitive, conclusive "Not Funny!"
Its interesting that the kid can already sense that he's being not taken seriously. This speaks to an expectation he's developed that he would be taken seriously if he just kept yelling out a word he's associated with "urgency." I wonder when he began to form this set of expectations that make him believe his father's supposed to listen to him?
With his yelling of buhlud, he obviously expected that his father would pay attention to him and act urgently.
I also have to wonder when and where that association of "urgency" with "buhlud" came from and how often it was reinforced before he was able to finally use the word in a way that we all understood. I wonder the correlations are to memory.
I also wonder what this means for us as adults who can already understand the language and have already learned what to get mad at. We usually don't have these split-second about-to-laugh moments, or at least we hide them better than the child. I wonder if the more automatic anger it becomes, the more related to your physiology it is.
I read Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison for a Literature class at UCSC.
They say that the book is a quest for identity, as is noted in the nicknames given to people.
"He closed his eyes and thought of the black men in Shalimar, Roanoke, Petersburg, Newport News, Danville, in the Blood bank, on Darling Street, in the pool halls, the barbershops. Their names. Names they got from yearnings, gestures, flaws, events, mistakes, weaknesses. Names that bore witness. Macon Dead. Sing Byrd, Crowell Byrd, Pilate, Reba, Hagar, Magdalene, First Corinthians, Milkman, Guitar, Railroad Tommy, Hospital Tommy, Empire State (he just stood around and swayed), Small Boy, Sweet, Circe, Moon, Nero, Humpty-Dumpty, blue Boy, Scandinavia, Quack-Quack, Jericho, Spoonbread, Ice Man, Dough Belly."
I was always struck by this passage. It was something I felt even before I read it and something that rings even truer today.
Whether it was calling my little sister, "Camilleishibu" based on the All That Foreign Exchange student character or when I'm calling her "Bums" as short for a rhyming Nickname for "Bumille", which was a nickname I gave her after I got annoyed at her singing this "Banana nana fo fana" song on Nick Jr. I've also called her "Dumler" also because it rhymes but also because it came from Madden 2001 as one of the random last names generated in the NFL Draft, and now "Bumler" as a synthesis of Bumille and Dumler, and now I've started pronouncing it "Boomler", perhaps as a symbol of the explosion of her art work
OR
When I am I calling Desiree "Company Flow" over the email because she listened to them for no good reason at all at least she told me or "Big Des on the Low Low" because "Des" sounds like a football player's name and/or one of 2Pac's associates,
OR "Wibs" or "Wachi" for my friend Harlan because it was odd just saying "Harlan", and I liked saying Wibs or Wachi better and plus it reminded me of the 50s song "Mr. Sandman" and the context of post WWII and Japan and Hawaii when that song was played
OR Keith "Airplano" way back when because he reminded me of this old school Regent Forex commercial
OR Bel "Bull" cause her sister Trina or "Trinz" has a funny way of pronouncing things
OR Maria "Partner" cause she was my dancing partner for a debut
OR Cressa "the Impreza" cause it rhymes and it reminds me of her red phone, "Hane" cause she called me that one time, and I thought it was pronounced the way you pronounce "Hanes" when in reality it is pronounced HAH-NAY and now all I do is think of underwear with her
OR Chiara "Sis" because that's Cressa's sister and I'd wanted to implicate something by that
OR Daniel "'Yell" in online correspondence because it was just odd calling him by his first name, 'Yell being the nickname of former Chicago Bulls player Donyell Marshall by a poster on RealGM
OR Joel "Drums" because he played the drums and reminded me of that episode in Friends where Ross is playing the theme of Beverly Hills Cop on his keyboard to work on his music in that episode where we find out that he was supposed to take Rachel to prom
OR my mom "Brooklyn" cause she had a bit of a round belly that I once used as pretend turntables when I was imitating a remixed rap version of the Supermario Bros Theme (not the Benefit one) and the fact that she looked hip-hop when she was waving good-bye to some black kids or the "Wadelian Paradigm" as my latest nickname for her reflecting an evolution from "Oodles", Waddles, derived from an episode in Rugrats with an Oodles the dog, and the current academic discourse in which I am embroiled. In ever evolving fashion I alternate between "Brooky" and "Paradigm" nowadays.
OR Joy "Joybif" as short for Joybifida, which means absolutely nothing, but "bifida" I got from imitating the beat from the song "The Life" by Mystic and Goapele which she gave me on a CD
OR Charlyne "TChar" because she sounds like she closes her glottis when she talks
OR Jade "tee" because she's my tee.
OR my dad, TATAY in an exaggerated Filipino voice because he's got lots of grey matter and he tends to be old school, but then he's an artist.
OR Phil "Full" because of the brusque and ironic ways he speaks or "Banks" referring to Phillip Banks on the Fresh Prince of Bel-horizoche-iz-air
Some people I just shorten their names as if they were acronyms. Perhaps this is just a microcosm of a trend where we live in a society of signs and signals. Like Dom for Dominique, like Pens, like B, like A, like Jel, like Bats. I was about to call a friend that is a girl AJ, "Tits" because her last name is Titong, but that wouldn't have been quite right. Sometimes I feel the need to extend past that acronym stage and call them something else. "Domfather", "D-O-M", Lups for Dom. I've been thinking of using Human Highlight Film or HHF, but that doesn't sound quite right, HHF sounds like he he has some kind of disease. I call "Jel" "Gelatinous Jel" or "Jail" as if I was a black dude pronouncing her nickname.
Some nicknames have gone awry. Like "Bats" for Batungbakal which was just a shortened version of his name and got him kind of mad, K-Pop for Kay-Anne because she had a facebook picture where she was turned to one side and it looked like her head snapped to which she ignored, Boocs or Boo-key for Sharlene because her last name is Bucasas to which she told my friend in confidence that she didn't like.
Some people I have nicknames for and they don't even know it because I never call them it. Like "Bucktator" for Christian Bonifacio because his last name is Bonifacio and the Native Guns said something about Bonifacio Bucktating in their one and only album.
Then there are people I don't even call by ANY name EVER. It would be absolutely weird if I called them by their first names, but I don't have enough of a quirky relationship to call them a nickname though did try. Like Carolyn, like Shelly, like Beverly though she wanted to be called Bev, but I know a few Bevs, and "Bev" wouldn't adequately describe her at all.
I almost never call friends and family by their first name. It's just weird.
I think that nicknames are just a way of remembering someone. It's nothing more than coding.
However, for me, nicknames (and even the absence of one combined with the refusal to call you by your first name) give the life to life; it means that you are something more than what is written in a paper document that witness your birth. They say more about you than your institutional name. They give witness to the fact that you LIVED and you've floated around in my consciousness.
In the world that we live in Everybody wants to be so cruel To be in the in-crowd Got the hottest clothes,the hottest shoes We're reading the tabloids And we're flossing in the club But the freshest thing you can do is Give someone your love - India Arie, Sergio Mendes
I sent the link below to a friend, and talked about it with another.
Even though the study was applied to children and adolescents, I don't see why it wouldn't be applied to adults as well.
With one friend, I was hinting at something, which I wonder how she will take it.
With the other friend, I was talking about it in relation to a person in her life whom she saw as insecure.
My view is this: materialism is a desire for concrete objects. Concrete objects by their nature are things you either have or you don't. If you were to desire a concrete object, you would just lament the fact that you don't have it.
I think from there, this attitude that you don't have something is where the self-esteem begins to sink.
The "don't have" is the operative in the statement: the fact that you "don't have", you don't possess something just manifests this view that ONLY if you HAD an object, you could do something. It follows that if you don't have something, you're useless. If you're useless, you then build this dependence, this fetish, likely on things which most of human history and human societies today have and still live WITHOUT.
Check India Arie's second verse to the same song:
"The clothes that your wearing It will one day be out of style The car that your driving One day will vax out in miles Your hair and your makeup And the time that it takes up It will take the same care of Ya give someone ya love"
This verse is stuck to my rib, and it's been dawning on me: Stuff doesn't last. Stuff are tools, not ends in themselves. They don't mean anything unless we give it meaning.
In context, assuming you don't have a view of cultural superiority, we probably wouldn't care that there's a certain elaborate clothing in one culture to show the high status of a person, just as they wouldn't care about our need for the hottest kicks, the most souped up cars.
Clothes and shoes you wear cause its almost human nature. The car is a thing to take you places. The house is a place where you store your stuff. I don't understand the status signs in them, nor do I really care.
He lives in an Frisco apartment, gives tons away without telling anyone, and went to a meeting with an international figure wearing glasses he had taped together.
That guy is hip-hop to the max.
BTW, over the weekend, interestingly enough there were links on ScienceDaily that described how money actually CAN buy happiness...if it's for others. Food for thought.
1) "I think she was not at all personally ambitious, I think she cared about the core issues, and I think she was not afraid to speak truth to power."
2) "A weaver in college, she was fascinated with what Ms. Soetoro-Ng calls “life’s gorgeous minutiae.” That interest inspired her study of village industries, which became the basis of her 1992 doctoral dissertation."
3) "“She loved living in Java,” said Dr. Dewey, who recalled accompanying Ms. Soetoro to a metalworking village. “People said: ‘Hi! How are you?’ She said: ‘How’s your wife? Did your daughter have the baby?’ They were friends. Then she’d whip out her notebook and she’d say: ‘How many of you have electricity? Are you having trouble getting iron?’ ”"
4) "As a mother, Ms. Soetoro was both idealistic and exacting. Friends describe her as variously informal and intense, humorous and hardheaded. She preached to her young son the importance of honesty, straight talk, independent judgment."
If Barack becomes president and stays well-liked, I think I could use my profession or knowlege as a pick-up line. "Make kids with me, an anthropologist like Obama's mama, raise a progressive-thinking Harvard educated kid." I really want to start marketing that.
Hopefully, I won't have to still be spitting pick-up lines 8 years from Barack's time.
by B.J. on 2/25/2008 03:24:00 PM
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Hope was the finest female in middle school. Her real name was Krystine. Once upon a time, she came to my house for a school project. I was fucking thrilled, that is, until on the morning of the presentation she kept bugging me to get back and rehearse our presentation.
Hope owned everyone in academics from elementary till middle school. I went to school with her for 8 years and she got what we called first honors every single quarter. Her A's were straighter than a Mixed Martial Arts fighter.
Hope sang Mariah Carey's hero better than any version I heard. I probably almost cried cause one it was beautiful and two it hurt to know that I wasnt that talented. Her version just blew everyone out of the water. I was so excited to know that I knew who trained her singing talent. I was so excited that I had to tell my boy Matt Carew this the next time I saw him.
I hung out with her after her lesson was done, she showed me solitaire, we talked about school and classmates. Because my sister had the same teacher, I had the pleasure of seeing her at her recitals. I was just happy to be there and see her. She was the highlight of that day.
Needless to say, I thought hope was a heck of a girl. This I noticed at the age when it normally is normal to be experiencing changes. I noticed this when she got braces and started wearing the school unifrom the way she did. I was secretly jealous of the homey Tommy Boy who had hope all over him.
I had the honor of slow dancing with hope in our 8th grade graduation party. I felt like I hit the goddamn jackpot. Here I was a student heading to a high school that was supposed to be the big deal, and here I was dancing slowly with the finest female 8th grade OMGC had to offer in 1998. I thought "so this is what it feels like to be prom king." I spent most of the time to the side of her so she wouldn't know that I had just ingested a box of onions and garlic. I didn't want her to know that I had anything wrong with me or else she might just stop dancing with me.
It's funny, I remember the music ingenue was playing at some point. Ingenue means "young innocent woman." It was one of the most surreal moments of my life that song and having her dance with me.
I also remember seeing her on the day of our graduation trip. She was the last classmate I saw as an 8th grader. It was the end of the day from Knotts Berry Farm. We were in the OMGC Parking Lot.
...she gave me a wink before we drove out...
...and that was it.
I saw her 4 years later at a party. Still pretty as hell, and me wondering where the time went. If I had the opportunity, I would reconnect.
In my days of social networking, I would search for her, just trying to look up old classmates and it seems like she was still elusive. I never got to find out what she was doing what she was up to till I heard the news.
Rest in Peace, Ms. Krystine Amurao, your physical presence ain't in function, but you will live on in my memories, my musings, my actions. - Brian J. Delas Armas
by B.J. on 1/13/2008 04:39:00 PM
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...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.
by B.J. on 12/10/2007 09:32:00 AM
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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.
Aren't those some cut-your-teeth-on-this kind of names?
If whoever I'd marry/mate with wouldn't concede these as first names, then you can bet that I'll stick it in there as lucky middle names.
I would make Mahmadou, Kaka, and Didier Drogba focus on playing soccer. Only soccer. Make Deion Pupunu play American Football and only American football --- don't want to mess up his life or anything, and I'd stick Socrates in a room full of math theorems, the Principia Matematica, and Hegel's writings.
I'd raise them on a farm, then move to a slum so they'd be some hardass kids, but I'd have enough for a car and drive their asses to get a good Catholic school education.
They would all learn how to build houses, filter any type of water and help so-called third world country water systems, and how to produce edible food out of garbage.
I want my next generation of genes to be able to kick the asses of and be much smarter than your kids, and live in real self-sufficiency.
When my job of kid-raising is done, my mate and I would move to the house that I had built up and stored, and rented out all these years. And all we'd do is live there, watch TV, fuck, then eat. Then write a book about it.
by B.J. on 10/13/2007 07:04:00 AM
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I feel embarrassed about feeling the way I feel. Maybe I wouldn't be if I sunk into a shithole of extended heroin, meth, and cocaine use. You know the big 3. Just for fun, I could top it off with a side of 'shrooms. I think I'd be so blasted and would have lost everything, that nothing would matter anymore and I could really do anything (aside from paying a large amount of mental, physical bodily rent) !
Add me to your reading list.
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