Monday, May 31, 2004

This Is Not Saved By The Bell

The New York Times > Magazine > Friends, Friends With Benefits and the Benefits of the Local Mall

Interesting article in Sunday's New York Times Magazine about how friends with benefits has become a very popular option amongst the high school set in light of the internet and cellphones. I remember when I got to college and first heard about this type of arrangement. I thought it was novel, mature even. And I think that in certain cases it can work, when things are purely carnal. But it's definitely not for high schoolers. Can you imagine Archie and Jughead doing the whole friends with benefits system? I can see it now. Poor Betty getting her heart broken every time she gives Archie her milkshake only to know that Veronica's line was busy and she was second choice.

Why stop there with the revisionist pop culture history? Maybe Saved by the Bell would have been more believable if they had the friends with benefits system. I think Lisa Turtle was the protypical high school Sex & The City Samantha. Into the materials, loved her friends, and very able and willing to get what she needed out of the opposite sex. Screech still would have been a wallflower though.

Teens should have to long for relationships just like the generations before them. All throughout the article you see kids complaining that dating is messy and painful. Well so's life losers. You can't control everything. There are a lot of things worse than that varsity basketball player or the homecoming queen not giving you the time of day. Like trying to get a job.

Saturday, May 29, 2004

First of All........

In a conversation I found myself in the midst of the other night, I decided to end with some non-traditional arrivaderci. But I didn't know how to end, until the person on the other end of the phone sounded somewhat perturbed with me. Finally flashing back into the convo, I told her that there was no need to be upset because when my album came out, she would be one of the first 17 people thanked. How I came up with the number? It just happened to be on my mind.

But the matter has stayed on my mind for the last couple of days, obviously. I started to wonder how my album thank you's turn out. Do I put God first or save the best for last? Do I individually note people I identify as rolling with cliques? And the grandmama of all questions, what's the order?

If you're curious, God is first, dedication to my grandmothers is last, and you're somewhere in between. But if you're reading this, you're definitely in the top 15.

Thursday, May 27, 2004

So Close

Every once in a while, I'll catch a glimpse of myself in my floor length mirror and it turns into a full appraisal of the Adam of that day. Most of the time I come away with the same conclusion: pretty decent specimen, could be excellent with small alterations. I'm sure many people have this conclusion on a semi-regular basis as well. What keeps us from doing them however?

In my case, they're pretty simple. Pay better attention to my skin, break down and finally buy a beard trimmer, stick to a regular workout plan, actually do homework and read books and not just about poopsmoot. I'm attractive enough I figure and I'm not looking to grace some billboard, but these simple things might improve my look, my health, and my self-esteem. So why don't I do them?

Is it sheer laziness? Yet the supposed benefits should outweigh that slothfulness significantly. Possible it's impatience. It's like maybe the knowledge of how to do things should act as a key to just bring about the new me with no effort. Could it be complacency? Maybe just knowing what to do is enough, and telling myself I can start at any time just fosters procrastination. Maybe it's fear that the result won't be as great as hoped, that I won't turn into some virile specimen of masculinity and genius. Maybe I just need to jump in and stop calculating. Maybe I have to stop saying maybe.

Hot Damn

You may notice that I may have a focus on the youth of America on this site. (Wait a minute. Is there anyone out there anyway?) But truly they worry me. Yes I am only 23 but damn one day these little people are gonna run this place unless the Messiah returns before then (please please please).

Today's little rant about the youth comes courtesy of the movie Mean Girls. Now I saw this last Sunday and I enjoyed it, probably because of all the Saturday Night Live people getting to act outside of a recurring character. It's sad what SNL does to those people cause I bet they're some pretty crazy people if they're let loose. Sorry bout the tangent. The movie though is a milder, cheerier form of Heathers, that iconic black comedy that made a generation (plus me) fall in love with Winona Ryder, before she started stealing things.

Anyway, what disturbed me about the movie was the way the main characters dressed. I mean the little vixens looked like they stepped out of the Neiman Marcus catalog. That didn't bother me so much as when I stepped out of the movie and into the mall and there were like clones of these girls all around me. What happened to cheerleader outfits and jeans and stuff? Do the girls of America really think they have to look like this?

To me it just seems kind of dangerous to be sending that kind of message to teenage girls. Women's self esteem in this country is already kind of shoddy and having girls that young sweating how they look that much just seems problematic to me. Plus when the star of the movie, Lindsay Lohan gets caught with her nipple showing (and who I will stop feeling guilty about lusting over on July 2, 2004) it doesn't make it any better.

I'm not suggesting any plan of action to save them. I have no idea what to do. I can barely figure out the women my age, let alone some girls. But I just think that attention should be paid so that these girls aspire to be more than caricatures and stuff. Eloquent huh?

We Heeeeeeeeeeeere

"It's a distinct and painful memory shared by music lovers of a certain age. You spend a couple hours recording a wicked awesome mix tape for a friend, or a lover, or (most often) someone in the uncertain terrain between. You fill it with songs cunningly chosen to simultaneously bare your heart and play it cool. You nervously hand it over—"Yeah, no big deal, but I made you this." Two weeks later, you ask how much she loved it, and when she shrugs, you feel a hot flush of shame. Face it: Your mix tape sucks."

Do you ever get that piece of literature, art, music, whatever it is, that you just connect with? Is that not a great feeling? I'm not saying that every time it happens, it's some monumental thing like reading Catcher in the Rye or Emma does for some people. It's things like this little excerpt from a piece about how iTunes celebrity mixtapes ultimately are trash. But this introductory paragraph just made me excited. Just cause I've been there. It's so great to know someone else has been there too.

It's happened a lot for me in music, every once in a while in film too. But it's just a reminder of how great it is that there are these experiences we have and we can revel in them and share them with others and enjoy and be miserable and everything in between. Okay I'll shut up now.

He Could Not Have Said This

Bushism of the Day
By Jacob Weisberg
Posted Wednesday, May 26, 2004, at 12:22 PM PT


"I'm honored to shake the hand of a brave Iraqi citizen who had his hand cut off by Saddam Hussein."—Washington, D.C., May 25, 2004

Check it out here

Monday, May 24, 2004

Blessing In Disguise

When I was stupid enough to leave my CD player at my dorm's front desk unattended about two months ago, it was no surprise that it was stolen. It's funny that when it was stolen I really wasn't all that upset. My eyes watered up one time, just because my stupidness was appalling, but otherwise it didn't affect me that much. By the next day, I was pretty much placated by the whole incident. The fact that I had spent about $150 on it and that it was only three months old didn't bother me that much. As a matter of fact, I distinctly recall debating if I should take it with me right before I left it. There was some weird force telling me to leave it, even though I knew there was a distinct chance that I wouldn't be back for a considerable amount of time. And it disappeared. Luckily, my sanity did not tag along.

There have been blips in the radar, like choir trips, where I miss my personal jukebox. Overall, though, it has been surprisingly pleasant. As a matter of fact, not being plugged into music at all times has been beneficial. When I am taking those walks to the post office or to buy myself used DVD's at Blockbuster (come on 2 for $20), I have actually used my brain to think.

At first it was weird, you know having thoughts that weren't told to me or shown to me. Now that Tribe Called Quest and D'Angelo weren't dictating my thoughts about the black condition or cheating, my mind has started to explore it's own deep realm, which has always seemed scary to me. I'll be honest and say that the muck and mire outweigh the gumdrops and razzleberries, but it's been singularly great just because I knew they were my thoughts and not influenced by some outside medium. Plus I've reached a wonderful conclusion: Life doesn't totally suck.

I finally reached this lovely point on my way to get a sugar fix. As I saw an acquaintance's car roll by, affectionately dubbed the Candy Cane, I waved and laughed to myself about the car. I thought of riding in it and how you have to roll down the window and open the door from the outside to get out. I thought of all my experiences here in Massachusetts of just sitting in the cafeteria, Denny's, buses on choir trips, or sitting in someone's room and hanging out. I thought of watching Kids In The Hall reruns with my suitemates in Connecticut. I thought of wasting Saturdays watching VH1 marathons with my extended suitemates. At first I thought it was sad that those are some of my most treasured memories. But now I realize that it's fantastic that those are at the top of my list. I have had the opportunity to be in the presence of some very awesome people. Not because they had titles behind their names or would be getting them at some point, but just because that's who they are. And just chill. And be. No pretense. No obligations. Just be.

Even if life isn't like that at every point, at least those are the moments to look forward to at some point. I might not have some huge mansion or every movie that is on my ever growing wish list, but I'll always have those friends and the memories and the opportunity to make more memories. That makes life pretty sweet.

Tuesday, May 18, 2004

Before The Blog

Perfection

I recently had the pleasure of attending a birthday party for one of my school mates. Even though it was during our vacation, a substantial number of our mutual friends showed up. In the course of the evening, despite the cold temperatures, some guests decided to take a dip in the pool.

Many of us did not venture outside, choosing rather to watch the proceedings from a huge bay window in the living room. A male acquaintance from school struck up a conversation as we watched. Naturally the subject matter was inspired by the scantily clad women enjoying the water. Somehow, we came to the topic of assessing the "talent" at our school. He compared it to a used car parts store. A lot of premium parts, but none amounted to the Mercedes we all aspired to. He then started to take pieces from certain girls and assemble them into a "perfect" girl. Satisfied with his creation, he deemed it worthy of "two thumbs up and a big toe." I smiled and nodded and chuckled.

I thought of the people he named and made a picture in my head. The final product was an amalgam of shades and shapes. It was an utter mess that I doubt anyone would have deemed "perfect." During the exercise, I had even named a particular attribute of one young lady only to be rebuffed because, according to his best estimations, she had no waist.

It was then that I realized that there were a number of girls I found attractive at our school. Had I been single and armed with any sort of approach, I would have tried getting to know a number of them. Pondering further, I came to the place where I identified his process as the hopes of constructing an ideal woman. I tend to see all these women as different types of perfection. Maybe my example did not possess a waist (which I think is biologically unlikely), I am sure there is no shortage of men that would label her as "banging." That goes for all the other whole girls who formed his sick creation.

Every woman is a walking piece of perfection in my eyes. Summer in the streets of New York is always a worrisome time. The probability of developing whiplash severly spikes upward due to the increase display of specimens throughout the five boroughs. The tall, the short; The thin, the chubby. In all I see perfection. While I am not attracted to all of them, I see how they are attractive and that is a quality lost on so many.

I must admit that in my more shallow days, I had an ideal candidate. The height didn't matter as long as she was at least three inches shorter than me. In my mind, this woman would have a pretty face framed my a natural hair style of some sort. She would have been of African descent, ideally with a caramel complexion. The other main attributes were south, since this dream woman would have wonderful legs and a round backside. Unlike most men, I am not crazy over the chest area, so as long as breasts were more than mere nipples and not flotation devices, I was not discriminating. The only personality traits I required were a penchant for strappy high-heeled shoes and a desire to bear my children.

Gladly, that shallowness has largely receded over time. I no longer search for that idealized construct, in part because I believe I have no need to search further, but also for the mere fact that it would eliminate so many other forms of beauty. In addition, I have also suscribed to the principle that the more you know about an individual's personality, the more yo ascribe to that person's attractiveness. For example, Jennifer Lopez doesn't look as hot once you realize how she seems to be addicted to serial monogamy. It works in the positive direction as well.

The best result of my growth process has been the fact that my ideal has crossed paths with perfection. If asked today to describe my ideal candidate, I would run off a list of characteristics that would easily produce my current girlfriend. Plus she maintains personality traits - intelligence, sense of humor to name a couple - that will keep her attractiveness even more glowing. As a bonus for me, she wants to bear my children and I think I found some strappy high-heeled shoes she might like. In my world, that's worthy of two thumbs up and a big toe.

- June 22, 2003

Sunday, May 16, 2004

Where I'm At

If you're particularly interested, you can judge the idyllicness of my current surroundings by taking a ride to this wonderful site.

Sensing The Girth

It seems that America might actually be getting the hint that this is a country full of too fat people. One stereotypical attribute I took from my African-American experience is the fact that I love the girls that have shape, and I don't mind the triple thick milkshake as it were. But people, honestly, we're getting to the point where Fat Bastard is about to look like Fabio. (Does anyone remember him?)

Like I said though, hope seems to still be around. I mean arguably one of the biggest crazes of the past year has been the Atkins craze. I mean it's so powerful that some businesses are complaining that is why their profit margins have been shrinking as of late. They're rushing to make Atkins friendly menus. Even McDonald's got rid of the supersize option and now they have adult happy meals that even come with pedometers, presumably to count the steps from the garage to the television.

But we haven't gone far enough. I think that something needs to happen with the nutritional facts that are on most of our food products. Just like those silly pedometers, they're fantastic, but only if you know how to use it effectively. Which is the basic problem for most of the country. There is a lot of math involved in those things with it's percentages and serving sizes and most people just don't want to be bothered with homework when they just want to eat.

What I suggest is that packages of food be equipped with sensors that can gauge the state of health of the individual that picks it up. Then, according to its readings, it can advise if the product itself would be advisable to purchase. Example: Fat Bastard picks up a container of Chewy Chips Ahoy! but is advised "You should probably put that down and get a couple of rice cakes buddy." Wouldn't that be fantastic? And it would work for anorexics too. You know if someone too thin picked up some Low Fat Wheat Thins maybe it could say "Have you checked out the Chewy Chips Ahoy?"

These sensors would pretty much work for the extreme cases. The people who probably just need to exercise on a regular basis would not have to worry about being embarrassed by what the sensors said. And celebrities could even voice the sensors so it's not some obnoxious computer voice. If Oprah and Brad Pitt told you that you might want to try a different meal, wouldn't you trust them?

Saturday, May 15, 2004

Is George W. Bush the Devil?

Or are Americans even stupider than the Founding Fathers originally thought? I ask this question now because news comes today that although Bush presently wallows in his lowest approval ratings of his Supreme Court appointment to the presidency, he still is in a statistical dead heat with Camelot 2004 candidate John Kerry. And if polls are like they have been in the past, he really is winning. Clinton was supposed to win in a land slide against Dole in '96 but technically he didn't even have a majority. Those darn things have always seemed to lean a bit liberal so let's just assume Bush is in the lead.

How can this be? The cakewalk that was supposed to be Iraq grows more and more harrowing as the weeks move on. The administration has committed to establishing a secure and stable democracy, admirable goals, but with the bedlam that currently swirls around the fertile crescent, when the hell is that gonna happen? One of W's comrades in the Senate even suggested that reinstituting the draft may be in order. The draft?!?!?!? There are no communists. There are no Axis powers. This shouldn't be happening. Isn't the reason we have the CIA and Navy Seals and Army Rangers and Green Berets to take care of the terrorists? Were all these Mission Impossible movies pure lies? I thought we could locate these losers with the touch of a button. Please believe I will be getting my Jamaican citizenship when I am back in New York City because I am too pretty to die.

And the way gas prices are I am baffled even further. Right now I live in a little town that has a little over 7,000 people. The town right next door has about 13,500. But in these idyllic little New England hamlets, gas has creeped over the $2.00 mark. Gas in the boonies is $2.00! I shudder to think what it's like in the cities. Now I know Americans like to drive so I thought that they would be pretty pissed that they have to shell out all this extra gas to move their SUV's across this great land of theirs. I mean even the convenience store owners are feeling the pinch.

Maybe Democrats are just too damn nice. The same article talks about the fact that 14% of the pollees had no opinion of Mr. Kerry. Maybe it's time to go back to the types of tactics that Lyndon Johnson used when he was trying to get elected. In an ad that aired once because it literally gave children nightmares, you just saw a mushroom cloud and a warning that if his opponent was elected that is what would happen. Maybe such drastic measures are unnecessary but something needs to happen. Like "If you want your child to die for a cause you care little about, vote for Bush," or "Bush's America: Empty gas tanks and empty cupboards for as many as possible."

I must commend the Bush team however. The makeup artist they hired to cover the horns is impeccable. I just wonder who gets to hold the pitch fork during press conferences.

Where Have The Afterschool Specials Gone?

I was reading about this very interesting story from Australia way and I wondered whatever happened to the afterschool special. Why did this thought occur you ask. Well basically the story is just so fantastic that it seemed like something Disney would take and try to profit on, don't you think? But then one seven-year old and two kilometers does not a movie make. I don't think even a TV movie. Maybe if the kid was older or an adult, it could be some star-making vehicle or an Oscar bid type film like Tom Hanks in Cast Away.

No I decided the best format would be a TV half hour or hour, but obviously one shot shows for that amount of time are never fictional. They're either reality, game-based, or a news special. Except for one type of show. The Afterschool Special. Why oh why did they go? Don't the children of America need them more than ever? Now their only options are Pokemon and Dragon Ball Z, or some other trash that makes no sense. Our afterschool television taught morals while theirs just seems to teach the best way to aimlessly waste time and get seizures. Oh and finding new ways to spend their parents' money.

The afterschool special needs a redux now more than ever. You know, they weren't the most effective method to teach about the dangers of teen alcoholism, drug abuse, or pregnancy, but at least they were amusing. Instead of becoming more curious about all those things, at least for one afternoon you weren't in danger because you were watching the car wreck on the screen. Plus let's think about the practical use of bringing back the afterschool special: training ground for America's next batch of stars.

There used to be more places for kids to act as they grew up. Now all they can do is be voices on Nickelodeon and Disney Channel shows. Or worse yet, act in live action shows on the same networks. Everyone is worrying about the science gap shortening for America, but the entertainment gap is slowly eroding as well. A 12 year old New Zealand girl was nominated for Best Actress at our Oscar ceremony. Our best talent is subjected to extra bits in Olsen Twins discovery movies. People wake up!!! Call your local congressman and senator. Tell them to bring back the afterschool special and save America's youth.

Friday, May 14, 2004

My Very Own Personal

Many people that I meet that I get into deeper relationships with often say that they really cannot figure me out. They still mess around with me I assume because I am worthwhile enough that the enigmatic nature of my personality is not too much of a detriment to their dealings with me. So to you dear reader, I thought I would fill out a personal form so that you would get to know me a little better. The form is from the lovely people at Nerve who made a personal form that I believe is now in use at a bunch of places. As you’ll see, the questions aren’t your run of the mill “built black boy seeks bodacious blonde babe who likes basketball” type. Instead, they are actually provocative. If you’re bored, I recommend running through the personals. If anything you’ll at least get some cool books to read and you might be amused along the way. Anyway, here’s what mine would look like, kind of.

Profile Name: Details
Headline: Because I care about minutiae (not just cause it’s a cool word)
I am interested in: Friendship, Dating, Serious Relationship (Or all the things that lead to babies)
I am a: Man (according to the birth certificate)
Seeking a: Woman
My relationship status: In a relationship
Someone between: 18 – 29
My occupation: Student Emeritus
City (Nay, Rural Township): South Lancaster
State: Massachusetts (Although I regularly visit Confusion and Delusion)
Country: Toby Keith’s America
Postal Code: Wait there’s a code for when you go insane?
Area code: Southeast, Southwest, South
Looking within: The World (The Crown Prince of Denmark just married an Australian. Why limit? I probably crossed paths with her already and who knows where the hell she may go.)

Education: Some College (With more on the way)
Ethnicity: Cocksure yet self-hating African American
Religion: Christian/Protestant (Seventh-Day Adventist, though those Eastern religions make more and more sense)
Star Sign: Capricorn the Stubborn Goat
Have Children?: Nope
Want Children?: They’ve already been named

Height: 6’3” when I don’t slouch
Weight: Somewhere b/w 195 – 205
Hair Color: Dark Brown with a Gray Patch
Eye Color: Brown

Cigarettes: Nope
Drinking: I can finally say never
Drugs: It’s been a while
Self-Depreciation: Favorite activity next to developing my freestyle skills
Self-love: Whenever I’m not self-depreciating

Last great book I read: Atlantic Union College Student Handbook (No Midriffs, No Jewelry, Plus Curfews…Oh My, rather Hotchie Motchie)

Most Humbling Moment: Changing my swim trunks in the 7th grade and realizing that being on average 18 months younger than my schoolmates had finally shown a negative side.

Favorite on-screen sex scene: Sex & Lucia. The morning wake-up.

Celebrity I resemble most: Uhhhh…. Once upon a time someone said Mos Def but that was when he had this beard thing going and I had the same thing happening too.

Best or worst lie I’ve ever told: Oh that was today? My bad.

If I could be anywhere at the moment: On a couch with the love of my life

Song or album that puts me in the mood: D’Angelo – Cruising (Wet Pussy Remix) Yeah that is the name.

The five items I can’t live without: My computer, my music collection, my paper, my pens, a decent piece of boxer briefs

Fill in the blanks: pictures are sexy; words are sexier

In my bedroom you’ll find: A bed, four walls, and a myriad of other stuff I’ve lost track of

Why you should get to know me: Because my mission in life is to bring happiness to all the people that are around me, despite myself. Because of one certain individual I’m open to trying everything at least once. I’m a painted canvas just waiting for more and more colors.

More about who I’m looking for: Someone to love me for me. Someone who is not afraid to confront me. Someone who realizes that my use of big words and exclusive trust of pretentious critics is really a cover up to insecurities to unreal to imagine. Someone unafraid to send me to a therapist and actually pick up my Lithium prescription when it comes in. Oh and a willingness to bear my seed as troublesome an experience that might be.

Guess Who’s Bizzack

You wonder why I say guess who’s back when this is the first entry. But yea, I once had another blog young squire, which can be found right here. As you may notice the name is “The Wonderful Adventures of Nugie.” I decided a new one was in order because I haven’t touched that for over a month. Plus I got tired of explaining the Nugie nickname because truthfully people haven’t used that one since high school. Finally my adventures are not really that consistently wonderful. They’re mostly interesting I guess but wonderful definitely seemed like a misnomer. So now we have this new incarnation.

Where does Hothcie Motchie come from you ask? Well three of the DVDs in my unfortunately vast collection are the complete collection of the short lived animated show “The Critic.” (I say unfortunately vast because I sometimes pause and think that 76 DVDs for a broke college student of modest means is very sad.) Our main character, surprisingly enough a movie critic, often exclaims the phrase “Hotchie Motchie!” (Personally I don’t like the spelling. I like Hachi Machi myself. But the one time it was actually in written form on the show it appeared in the version that titles this little corner of the internet. So my coloring in the lines continues.) For me it basically translates to “Oh my goodness!” which I thought was more appropriate for the things I want to share around these parts.

Life, in and of itself, is an “Oh my goodness!” experience. Whether you pause and notice the way trees bloom, the laughter of a child, or the inexplicable grief when you lose a loved one, life is just a series of “Oh my goodness!” moments whether you notice them or not. I guess I say “Oh my goodness!” to myself a lot, but it gets buried because it seems somewhat crazy a lot of the time. But the internet is filled with people much crazier than me so why not me too?

I don’t know what to tell the people who are reading this. I’m not some clever pundit of the political affairs of the day. I don’t have some particularly interesting angle on life, although formerly upper middle-class African-American is a rarity in life. My current situation isn’t particularly different, like scorned grad student or corporate shill. But if one is interested in the thoughts of someone else that doesn’t know what’s going on most of the time, I guess I’m your man. I have no promises with this new edition, but I hope to be more diligent with espousing my thoughts into the digital stream of consciousness. And being as amusing with it as possible. No promises though. Here we go.