End Of The Year

So I haven't written in like two months. And what? I haven't done much of anything else productive either. There was a point when I had written a list of all the things I wanted to talk about. But those are probably irrelevant now and I'd have to look for it. Way too much trouble.

But I'd be remiss if I didn't do a little recap of the big developments.

1) I am in the process of developing a television show called Walking with Adam. This has developed due to the fact that I have found myself having quite coherent and intelligent conversations with myself when I am walking to and fro wherever I go. Funny enough I always seem to find the camera.

2) The psychiatric hypochondriac has resurfaced probably due to my working with these children 40 hours a week. I think I might have dysthymia. Or I am just another 20 something who can't make up his mind and likes being lazy. But I think it actually might be in the former. I need too much help to be in a good mood. Maybe I should just get some antidepressants from Canada. It would help cut down my libido too.

3) People are quite insane. It's unfortunate.

Enough with the depression though. Let's look back on all that has been accomplished.

1) I actually got myself a job. A job I actually enjoy and feel worthwhile doing. Though the mental fatigue is taxing at times, at the end of the day I am quite happy with what I do.

2) I actually got an apartment. An apartment that many love to come too. All with minimal effort. And I have a king size bed affectionately referred to as the Olive Garden. That's pretty sweet.

3) Despite my efforts at self-sabotage, I am actually within a semester of graduating. Amazing after such an extended period of time.

4) People genuinely seem to enjoy my presence. That's pretty decent.

5) And I got a digital camera. Why did they unleash me? Who knows?

So what will the new year bring? Most of all it would be nice to have some clarity. As Drizzle made me realize, there seems to be quite a bit of fog in my crystal ball. So just figuring some stuff out would be quite wonderful. I would like to enjoy myself a little more. That doesn't mean party ezactly but just genuinely be happy more often. And I just want to have some real faith that things will work out. Because so far I really have nothing to complain about.

So peace out 2005. 2006: Be gentle. Let's do the damn thing

Been A Minute

So I haven't written in a while but forgive me my life isn't that interesting. Or at least the interesting thing I feel like sharing with the world. But I want yall to know I've been doing alright. Plus I'm listening to crazy music right now. And I'm working on a Podcast with Boy Wonder so you'll hear me in a whole different way.

Activism Is Dead

Rosa Parks died yesterday. Yes God bless and all of that. Everybody else is saying it.

But her passing made me think that there is has been no one born in the past 45 years that will be mourned in the black community for actually trying to advance the social station of African-Americans. Forget African-Americans. Everybody's station in life really could be much better. In the wake of the fact that we could have saved $20 billion dollars if we used generic drugs instead of name brands, life is much harder than it needs to be. No one cares about anything anymore. When senators and congressmen die, they'll be remembered for the bridge they helped build in their home district, not for making life better (although their traffic contributions are immeasurable).

I think medicine will be a waste of my time. As my profile (previous posts people, keep up) mentions, I take on the affairs of the oppressed and downtrodden. That's what I'm going to do. I want to cut the rate of African-American males going to prison. I want to increase the rate of matriculation and graduation amongst minorities in higher education. I want people to understand the importance of true mental health. And there's a bunch that I'm missing. But I want to make it better. This world sucks and you people need to realize it. Then we can make it sweet.

Bonus Accuracy

Another test

And my result.

Pretty Darn Accurate

So I'm procrastinating and trying to get out of the fact that my job is killing me (literally beacuse I think I pulled a calf or sprained an ankle or both). Excited cause Drizzle sent me a e-mail and it seems she discovered why we went through what we went through. So I did the darn test and as usual, she was right. The results are pretty accurate.

Here's the test

Here are my results and more results.

Seriously

I have a fucking wonderful life. There is no reason for me to feel the way I do. No reason for me to dread waking up. No reason for me to avoid the contact of the real world. Let's honestly count up the positives. I have no serious health issues. There is money in my bank account. There is shelter over my head. There is food in my pantry and in my fridge. Most of all, I have an amazing, loving family. The bonus is that I have an amazing network of friends that no MySpace or Hi5 page can ever come close too.

Over the past day, I've had people tell me what a great friend I am, what an active listener I am, how awesome I am. Not to sound cocky or anything, but they're right. I am a good person. Plus, I have a good, solid noggin on my shoulders. I have a wonderful life. And I haven't even been to to the tip of the iceberg yet. I need to get over myself and just get cracking. There is so much I can accomplish. I have to stop worrying about getting it just right. Or else I'll stay at just okay when whatever I do, as long as I'm trying, will be utterly fantastic.

This needs to be the last time I have some grand affirmation about my life. It's time I just do the damn thing and work towards being the even more amazing, wonderful individual that God wants me to be. Thank you Lord for blogging to help me remember this spot exactly.

Live At Lenheim Hall

The Lord blesses in unexpected ways sometimes. To help keep me up at my marathon overnight sessions at front desks, He's sent me numerous conversations that keep me engaged and alert. For the second week in a row, I've spoken extensively with my former acquaintance/new friend Bassline.

But as we talked, we got comfortable and soon it was the two of us in chairs across from each other. As our conversation progressed, another one of our friends, Plato, came and joined us. Then we had a guest panelist in the form of another friend's visiting brother.

So four, young, educated brothers discussing the many issues of life. Mainly it was about the conundrum of women and all it entails. We also talked about dating outside the race and its subsequential caveats. But we also discussed the pros as opposed to sticking with our beautiful Black women. Quite the enjoyable conversation.

What mainly came out of our discussion was the fact that West Indian men have one of the worst positions in history. We hate everyone. Because of our origins, we've interacted with every type of people and they've all shafted us. Indian, Asian, Black, White. In addition, because of our station in life, the West Indian man has had to struggle and is self made. But because of that, he maintains the position that he can do better. A mansion, top notch kids, and a beautiful, doting wife and he would roll over in bed and say "I could do better." And that sentiment sticks with us and corrupts our thinking in every thing we do.

Ah such is life.

So Why Am I Always In A Depressed Mood Bout This Time

Without fail, in the fall I seem to slow down. I usually have some sort of resolve in September to reach my potential once and for all. The 10th month comes around and I don't feel like doing much of anything. I really don't care about anything. I just want to sleep. I occupy with stuff that is so inconsequential (i.e. blogs and MySpace) yet cannot handle doing the things that really matter which currently includes Organic Chemistry, Law School applications, and making sure I don't die before the age of 30. I swear I should be on antidepressants. Or maybe I should alter my diet. My grandfather has said that since he stopped eating meat, his lustful desires and impulses to rage out have waned. Maybe I just need to drop the meat. Maybe I just need to stop feeling sorry for myself. Maybe I should pray. I got Jesus music on right now so that should pick me up.

Are You Gelling?

Just checking

I Will Not Steal Pumpkins

I Will Not Steal Pumpkins. I Will Not Steal Pumpkins. I Will Not Steal Pumpkins. I Will Not Steal Pumpkins. I Will Not Steal Pumpkins. I Will Not Steal Pumpkins. I Will Not Steal Pumpkins.

If you're wondering about my little mantra, it is true that in the past I have stolen pumpkins. This 6'3" black male has been known to run to doorsteps and house pumpkins and jack-o-lanterns round this time of year.

Why would one do such things? Well the answer is multifaceted, as most explanations are when dealing with me. One reason is because it seems like some missed boyhood rite I missed out on living in the city. One of the intriguing things about living in the middle of nowhere is actually seeing Main Street, this concept that the media has bemoaned the loss of. It just seems American. Another reason is the adrenaline rush. Last year, one of my chosen sites had a group of very possessive dogs. Let's just say that mission was unsuccessful. I did learn I would have survived the civil rights era because of my ability to outrun dogs and jump in moving vehicles. Lastly, it was just fun, a release from the responsibility that I am constantly trying to avoid.

And this is the main reason I need to stop. As I have actually taken the initiative to move out and pay bills on my own, stealing pumpkins just seems like a step backwards. I mean I've gone from being "Hey I have no cash for the movies" broke to being "Hey do I really need to get that drink because if I open the fridge, the light being on might be the kilowatt that pushes my electrical bill over the top" broke. And seriously my house is a mess already. housing pumpkins is something I'm not equipped to do.

Alas a part of me already misses it. But my childishness can be supported by the cartoon DVDs that I will continue to buy and the kids I work with, who wonderfully keep me in touch with my inner 11 year old, when they're not getting in holds. I won't miss the smell when they rot though.

Yeah....I'm Gonna Die

Today, I couldn't breathe. Once again, my cough is starting to act up. Two parts of my tongue tingle when I eat. My teeth are all sensitive. My head feels cloudy. I'm gonna die. So I'm thinking it's time to reorganize my life. So goodbye to all those practices that debilitate my health. You know the free living and the constant computer stuff. Goodbye to stressing over things I have no control over. Hello God. Haven't talked to you in a while. I'm too young and too pretty to be going out like this. I haven't even had a real quarterlife crisis yet. So I'm actually going to make a schedule and follow it. I think I'll start paying attention to myself, because worrying about everyone else has me missing my slow death. And taking those vitamins my momma sent me. I'm going to die. Just not yet

(Can't) Let Go

Along the early course of Drizzle's spiritual reawakening, she shared a verse that blew her mind. I understood the deepness but didn't fully appreciate it. Until lately. Jeremiah 17:9 (NIV): The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?

Through my own experiences and the travails of others I have realized the seriousness of that question. Who the hell can understand it? Somehow the heart can develop attachments without you knowing it. Severing those attachments sometimes are near impossible. Even when you logically know that it isn't the thing for you to do. The universe might send you hundreds of cosmic signs to corroborate everything your mind is saying. Yet the heart just can't let things die. Or lets things go that would be beneficial due to its unkwnown desires.

It has plagued me lately. The heart is just insane. Another version says that it's "desperately wicked." That seems apropriate because what other entity would try to bring down the very thing that is keeping it alive.

Kindness Pays

Front desk: The source of my greatest creativity and the location of my moments of clarity was today also the source of an unexpected monetary blessing.

So I'm fighting sleep by taking a little walk when I notice a frantic figure on her way up the walkway. I leisurely stroll back to my post. And this woman explains that she needs to curl her hair. Of course the one public bathroom we have has no mirror. But there in my creativity, I remember we had guest room keys. Now I expected no reward. I just knew the plight of the black woman and her hair. But when she came back out, she slipped me a five spot.

Now that's what I call a Happy Sabbath

Melanin 2.0

At front desk, I was having an unexpected conversation with my new buddy Bassline and my twin (not name-worthy ready just yet; give him some time). But it ranged all over the place. How the devil really doesn't get involved in individual problems any more and the backwardness of the country. But we started talking about backwardness and we came around to African-Americans. It wasn't a bashing session but rather an airing of frustration over the ignorance of the community. There's a desire to encourage a sameness when our diversity is what makes us so beautiful.

Anyway, after the twin left, Bassline was telling me that his old Jamaican grandmother told him to breakup with his white girlfriend. After worship!!!! And that he should get with a light skinned black girl. Isn't that employing the same kind of racism? That light skinned black girl was the product of some white person getting down with a black one.

Heaven is not going to be some segregated place so why am I just chilling with my "own", who funny enough make fun of me when I don't speak like them or dress a different way. I makes no sense. if the girl of my dreams happens to come in a vanilla shell, caramel, molasses, or butterscotch (I'm hungry), I can't discriminate cause all I'll eat is toffee. The palate is made to appreciate a variety and I'm not limiting myself for some other idiots' expectations

Oh To Be Rich

Mom sent me a care package last week, but I have to question how much she cares. Included in said package, along with my favorite cookies and loads of vitamins I should be taking, were fashion magazines focused on the haberdashery of the male. And the clothes were beautiful. If joseph's coat had anything on these beauties, then he would have been my best friend. Especially during the famine.

But with high end fashion comes high end prices. And then I got sad cause when will I have the funds to make such wonderful threads part of my own wardrobe. Is the Burberry trench destined to be a pipe dream? Will I ever get to stand awkwardly, praying for pins to miss my skin as I am fitted for my own custom bespoke suit? Oh such is life. So somehow I'm thinking I move back to the city and be a pet to a personal shopper or someone linked into fashion that can pass along the benefits.

Or I actually get off my ass and do something with my life so I can make an income that allows me one or two of those luxuries. Oh what will win?

They Don't Do It Like They Used To

Me and my buddy Beastmaster were having a random conversation, with topics lasting no longer than seven minutes. Somehow we got to discussing - probably Beast's theology major creeping up - how back in the olden days of the Israelites, guys used to actually rip goats apart. I don't remember the passage in the Bible but there's one point where the dude literally tears the animal apart. I mean that's crazy. It's one thing to break a wall. That's just plaster or brick. Plus it's stationary. But to stop a living, breathing creature and tear it, literally, limb from limb. That is insane. When did we lose that strength, that amazing masculinity? Has the technology age made us bitches? The answer is probably yes.

Amigos

Once again I am here at front desk procrastinating, doing nothing special at all. Then my RA pal Beastmaster comes through, says some funny thing, and then leaves. But then he back tracks and asks if everything is okay. I didn't realize I looked so forlorn and honestly at that moment, I did feel a bit sad. So I replied I was so-so. And then he said we should pray together at some point, something we did semi-regularly when we were both RA's. Then he made some funny comment, I made one, and he was off.

And as I write this I have tears in my eyes. Not because I am especially depressed, but rather because I am so moved the Lord could impress on him how I was feeling. It truly is an amazing thing.

Being up at this school has afforded me so many blessings. One of the greatest I have realized is the value of quality interactions. I think growing up a shy, only child that absorbed information, I secretly craved friends and just regular contact. That's why I have few, real hardcore friendships. I go all out for my friends because they mean so much to me. I probably go further than necessary for people I consider celebrated acquaintances. Those interactions are so important to me I can't really explain it. I save every IM conversation obsessively just for that reason. It's like I need that reminder that I have experienced it and how much I enjoyed it.

Sometimes I'm saddened to think how many friendships I missed since most of my pre-teen and high school years were spent in a self-induced hibernation, but I'm glad for the ones I have now cause I'm that much more appreciative.

Heaven/Hell

The first 12.5 hours of work today were wonderfully pleasant. I overcame our invisible staff member and the interactions with the kids were pretty good. There were some incidents but surprisingly tame.

Then I went to the gym, an assignment I particularly bathe but surprisingly it was still pretty good. Until the end. One kid starts throwing balls directly at another. The other one strikes back and a struggle ensues. All hell breaks loose. I've got four kids in a gym with two overheated, another one ready to blow, and a fourth ready to cry at any moment. I swore I wasn't coming back like Colonel Kurtz in Apocalypse Now. Finally get my supervisor when one kid decides to run away. So now I'm Michael Johnson and have to put him in a hold on the cold pavement.

Yeesh! When I got back and things calmed down, I got to joke with my favorite kid and co-worker and I was cracking jokes forever. So that was heaven to go with the hell. I still needed self-medication to cope though.

Am I Really Dismissive?

After my happy Sabbath day, I hoped to continue the good fortune into nightfall. So I'm talking with Kate, her mom, her (we'll say) cousin and a friend of mine and Boy Wonder's. Somehow we end up talking about how jacked up the country is. And I made the remark that the new Supreme Court is probably going to make abortion illegal. Kate said that it won't happen. And even if it did there would be an uproar. Are you kidding me?

There will be six conservative leaning justices. If they vote for it, how the hell are things going to change that decision. Kate "People will be harassing Congress to change it." Even if the majority of congress was pro-abortion, they can't pass laws for it once they declare it unconstitutional. You have to pass an amendment and last I checked the Congress and state legislatures you need to approve such a measure are still mostly anti-abortion. "But it's an issue for everybody." Yeah those auburbanites' daughters are getting them, but they don't want to believe that they are. Denial is the only river that flows through every state in the union and as long as food is on the table, the minivan has a loaded tank, and Bobby & Kimmie's teachers aren't raping them but getting them to read, well everything is gravy. If there's going to be a bloody uproar if abortion goes out the window, then Dubya wouldn't be in office in the first place. The issue is so far down on people's priority lists, it might as well not exist.

And I told her this. And I said she was wrong. Which she is. Her naive idealism and passion are very attractive features. I think that's what drew me in the most when we dated. But isn't it better to crush the stupidity early so that the disappointment is not as great later? Plus it encourages one to develop well thought out positions and not heat of the moment empty rancor. Call me dismissive if you want, but I'm a necessary evil.

Shabbat Shalom

If this first day of the month is indicative of the following ones, October is going to be mighty fine. I woke up lazily in my warm room. Went out to the warm sunshine only to be accosted by French (or Creole) shouting. But it was just Mummy Shu, Kate's mom and wife of my landlord. So we had a lovely laughing conversation. Then it was off to the bak where I spoke with the friendly teller. Then my momma sent me a care package with my favorite cookies and vitamins. I took a walk to the grocery store and got some necessities.

But finally I took off all my clothes, save for my visor and sweatpants, and just chilled. Rediscovered some old gospel tapes I grew up on and had a praise party as I sat out on my deck. I should have been organizing my stuff or doing something else more constructive but the Sabbath is about rest and that is what I did. How fantastic!

I'm Leaving

So I started moving out of the dorm yesterday and I can't tell you how excited I am. Even though the rent is too high and I have no furniture I am happy as a clam. I already love to entertain. I've already had five people over to see it and I don't even sleep there yet. It's bloody fantastic.

I've fretted about how I'll decorate it. I have Design Within Reach tastes but a Wal-Mart budget. But I look forward to the challenge. It's just my (& Boy Wonder's) space. I'm so giddy I'm pretty sure I'm not coherent. I mean I'm getting excited about electricity being on and ordering a phone line. I'll probably cartwheel when I get my first bill. So much exuberance over two bedrooms.

Non-Profit Name Change

I have decided that my efforts to get grant money for my non-profit organization might be stymied by the perceived crudeness of its name. So to that end AssNow officially becomes The Backslide Foundation: We Give Back

Hustling Backwards

Right now I am sitting in a cottage type domicile. There's a table, a bed, two chairs, and a bathroom. In addition, there are plastic guards on the windows, the heating and air conditioning units are behind metal enclosings, and there is an additional room with reinforced doors and a camera in the ceiling. Oh and there's a ten year old boy on that bed. Welcome to my line of work.

I currently work at the Doctor Franklin Perkins School in Lancaster, MA, just a walk away from my campus. I started working here because they pay well and it helps me fulfill my requirements for graduation. But like every other event in my life, it seems to teach me more than I expected.

At Perkins, there are children of both sexes from ages 5 - 17. The vast majority of kids here were placed by the state for one reason or another. They all have behavioral issues, some more severe than others. I work specifically with boys from 10 - 13. For the three months I've been here, it's been one wild ride. So far I've been punched in the arm, had a bike tire thrown at me, had a bowl of ice cream smashed in my face, amongst other things. But I actually love working here.

The reasons are many. For one, it's teaching me about myself. Often we're telling the guys to be more cognizant of what sets them off. I've had to look inside myself at times and just be more introspective. Another reason it's great is because I have some awesome co-workers. I forgot how great the camaraderie is in a healthy workplace. The bitch session has to be one of the best therapeutic activities ever.

The reason I love the job the most is because of the kids. Yes they scream endless strings of expletives at you at the slightest provocation. Yes they assault you when you stand in their way. But at their best, they're some of the most charming kids ever. ANd really they are just boys. They mess up just like boys do. They just happen to overreact and have anger management issues. But really, they are the sweetest.

So I figure I need to be in a profession where I'm working with the little ones, helping them reach their most fulfilling tomorrows. Just because life dealt them a bad hand, it doesn't mean that we can't slip them some new cards. Everyone deserves a shot at four of a kind.

Designated Driver

If there's anything that's so wonderful about the City That Never Sleeps is that no matter how wasted one gets, you have an 8 car stretch limo at your leisure at any time. The New York City Subway system may have its flaws. At times overcrowded. Regularly irregular. Pungent odors whose sources cannot be traced. But gosh darn it, it's always there. It may take 20 minutes for your train to come. And some hoodlums might pull the emergency cord and keep you holed up in a dark tunnel for an absurd amount of time. But that's when friendships are strengthened. It's a very beautiful thing.

Just last night I was returning from my wonderful escapade with Nitro and at least five sets of drunken people got on my train car alone. One happily continued his dancing from the club, breaking into an exuberant robot interspersed with b-boy moves. Others just laughed uncontrollably. Some lustily looked around for maybe one last person they might be able to take home. But in all cases they all had the tie that they needed that silver chariot to continue their nights of mirth and I for one am glad I got to share it with them.

Windows to the Soul

I caught myself wondering about the power that a person's eyes have. Before one ever speaks a word, eyes can convey a total message, sometimes more than words alone can convey.

How can two spherical objects communicate the vast spectrum of human emotion? There are looks that kill yet the sparkle in one's eye can light up a room. Eyes can emit temperature changes across rooms as icy glares chill one to their core. A child's eyes can make one filled with warmth at the same time.

When you lie, your eyes naturally choose to dart away from the victim of your falsehoods. Truth can only be told with direct eye contact, or at least that is a prerequisite for belief. So much power contained in such small objects.

I've felt their power most in my experiences with love. Even in the silly games that are played in the early stages of a relationship, eyes are pivotal. They evoke intrigue and desire. Along the way it develops into a come hither look that says "I need to touch you/I need to kiss you/I need you." In its most pure form, in the midst of the sweetest embrace, just looking into your love's eyes says "I love you" better than the actual words ever will.

Sadly, hurt and pain come across so easily through those same eyes. The pain is so powerful at times that if forces one to avert any gazes or eye contact whatsoever. Looks can be so vivid that one can be broken down with a single episode. Its power is truly amazing.

I've been told I am a good eye reader. I wonder where I wold hae been without it, though I'm not sure I am as good as people say. The words we speak are often deceptions we force ourselves to believe. Eyes never lie though. And they've taught me about the deepest of human emotions. Taught me how deep I could feel, though in scattered moments, I've wished for blindness. Fortunately, my coins never land swuarely in the fountain and my journey of discovery continues.

Darn Stibah

What is it about habits that makes one do them? At points, they are annoying yet they have the capability to be endearing in the right circumstances. Even though they may go against one's desired goals, even detrimental to one's well-being, they are historically hard to quit. At times, they are so ingrained that one does not ever realize they are practicing it at all.

For instance, Coffee Bean (and apropros to her name) fidgets on a regular basis. So much so that it seems she can move her car solely on the energy her legs make a la the Flintstones. Posh has an infamous predilection to bite her nails. She luxuriates when her nails are longer and more fashionable, yet that goal can't stop her overpowering habit.

Among my many bad habits, one is definitely overanalyzation. At its worst, it makes me waste time and drives me slowly up the wall. The most benign topic will have me hamstrung, inactive, and stuck in a mire that keeps me from doing the things I want, nee need to do.

And how does a simple practice escalate to the point that its characteristic of your being? Like Posh's nailbiting, habits are often painful. Yet it takes extreme dedication and cognizance to break them. If I touch a hot stove, I don't do it again. But I realize my habits keep me from where I need to be, but I keep doing them.

They even slip under the radar at times. I suck my tongue but someone always has to point out that I'm doing it. The boys at the place I work have detrimental habits. Some continually provoke their peers to act out to the point that they get in minor to major scuffles. But they don't realize they're doing it. What a scary proposition.

The more and more I experience, the more I realize that the human mind is amazing in its complexity. There is no way that the random alignment of elements in a primordial ooze is the source of its creation. On the list of conundrums of human behavior, habits have to be at the top of the list. Figuring out how to maximize delectableness while minimizing calories in packaged food is nice, but those brains should be working on why we all waste our time and energy on those prickly, little habits

Oh The Games We Play

Reminiscing on my short, yet complex, relationship history, I've realized that lots of the things that have gone wrong or not as I would have planned can be narrowed down to one simple truth: my inability to process the unspoken signals that the varied ladies I am interested in put out there. For one girl, the eyebrow raise is an invitation while for another it might be a quizzical "What the hell are you still around me for?"

My problem might not be so much that I don't understand them, but rather that I mistrust my own judgment on them. Yes, I was in your room till 2 in the morning and fell asleep in your bed, but do you really like me. Just an example of one of the thoughts that run in my head from time to time.

Wouldn't it just be simple if we jsut said everything we were feeling explicitly? It would save so much time and energy if everything was just out there. I wish I could start rolling around with poster board and a marker just so I could let people know where I stand with them and allow them to know where they stand with me. It could all be so simple.

A Very Serious Problem

I am currently dispatching from my hometown of Brooklyn. The trip home has been a welcome respite in the midst of continuous action in Massachusetts. Particularly entertaining to me is just the many different outfits of the many beautiful women in this fair city. Even the ones that mainstream America would not determine to be conventionally attractive manage to have a style all there own. It truly is a beautiful thing.

But I have noticed something serious that troubles me. Over time I have learned that just because a piece of clothing is beautiful, it does not automatically retain its beauty just because you are wearing it. The right body type is most important in conveying the true vividness of one's wardrobe. Now you might be naturally thinking I'm talking about girls who are a little horizontally gifted who wear things that are too small. That is a problem but not the one I'm getting at. This one is for the girls with low slung jeans and tight pants that have no ass.

Having no ass is a serious problem and not one to be lambasted with recklessness. These people, either through genetic maladies, diet, or illness, have lost a crucial part of their attractiveness and their ability to properly wear clothes. It is a problem that has gone overlooked for too long and I plan to change that.

This is why I am starting my non-profit group, AssNow. The mission of AssNow is to bring awareness to the importance of a well proportioned and rounded backside. Not only does it provide its possessor with a necessary component in fashion, but it also provides a wonderful cushion for extra long subway or car rides. Most of all, it is a self esteem builder. With a wonderful butt, one can shimmy the night away without fear that there is no moneymaker to shake.

So when you see a chartreuse ribbon or wristband, please remember the serious mission that is AssNow. AssNow: We Give Back

What The Hell Is Wrong With Some People?

So after I came home last night from my eventful walk with Coffee Bean, I went to take a shower. Now I have new suitemates in my dorm who have particularly nasty habits, which I won't share here just because I like your intestinal linings where they are. Anyway, as I step into the shower, I happen to glance where I keep my colognes. Now I have four colognes. There's D & G Masculine for the summer fresh scent. There's Polo Blue for a more serious scent, more citrus based. There's Christian Dior for that distinguished "I Am Somebody" scent. And finally there is Dolce & Gabanna for the "I'm at church but I might be going out later" scent. Lo and behold Dolce & Gabbana were missing. Not to mention one of the soap bars that I left in the bathroom as well.

I was fuming. It was 12:45 in the morning and it was only the Jesus in me that didn't have me banging on the immature youngins's door demanding my cologne back. The next day, after work, I went straight there and asked in my most calmed down voice for it back. This bastard had it in his drawer like it was his. The nerve! What is wrong with people. Is common decency out the window? At a Christian school no less. Sadly, had they just asked to use it and left it where it was, I would have been fine. I don't get to use them as often as I would like. If they can use it and feel good, yay, fantastic. Damn they could have used it without asking me and just left it where it was and I wouldn't have noticed most likely. But no. They decided to incur my wrath. I think the Lord sent them to make me move out the dorm as soon as possible. This is just ridiculous

Did That Just Happen?

Okay so I'm talking with Coffee Bean on the rough streets of South Lancaster. We got a little excited. There was some boiseterous laughing and talking. Out of nowhere, someone just screams "Go AWAY!" It was awesome. I felt like I was in some bad television show. The neighborhood rapscallions causing trouble in the wee hours of night. I could just imagine the woman who said it, with some withered down housecoat and rollers in her hair. That would be so awesome. Just had to share that with the world.

Therapy @ Denny's

There must be something about late nights and greasy food that lets the emotional floodgates run open. Maybe you're just so tired at that point and the grease just hits off some neurotoxins or something that makes it all work. But I've noticed that at my late night sessions at Denny's things just come out.

Last night, me and Posh went and I got some things out about my ongoing relationship woes with Coffee Bean. And in getting it out, it helped me realize things I needed to do and that I was doing. Similarly, a couple months back, it was Posh, who in the same seat, got stuff out about her frustrations with her father. Maybe the vinyl seating is enough like a psychiatrist's office that you just get comfortable.

After all their issues with diversity and stuff, maybe they could somehow incorporate that in their next marketing campaign. Like "Denny's: Out in the Open" or something. (Hey I'm not a copywriter. Give me some credit). But whenever I want to get something out I plan to pour my sorrows out over a T-Bone and eggs with a vanilla milkshake. There's no better way.

New Political Philosophy: Luxury Socialism

My genius disciple Nitro is currently in her second year of law school at Cornell. Naturally she's brilliant and so she has been courted by her share of prominent law firms for summer jobs next year. As she goes to these series of interviews, the law firms put her up in lavish hotels, so much for a 24 year old student to handle.

Nitro expressed some guilt about being in these places and dwelling in its extravagance. But as a responsible guru, I let her know that she was not paying for these things and should therefore not feel bad about enjoying them. In fact, if one should feel bad it is because so many will never experience such luxuries. And then a new political philosophy was born: Luxury Socialism.

The basic tenet of Luxury Socialism is that every one should have access to the finest of goods, whether it be legitimate Coach bags, Ritz-Carlton accomodations, or an Ivy League education. Because they are the finest, they should be available to everyone. Why limit it to an ever shrinking elite? My people on the corner deserve to have XO cognac instead of the VSOP they are forced to drink because of their station in life.

Seedy motels should be banished from existence. If I need to pull off the interstate to rest my eyes during an excessively long road trip, I should always have a Ritz Carlton or Four Seasons type establishment to step into. The best healthcare should be available to me, meaning every test should be run that could be run, without additional costs. Adequate is no longer acceptable. If it is not excellent, it should be thrown out of the system.

Luxury Socialism: Because we all deserve a better way of life.

What's Wrong With My Life?

So I was sitting in a car in an awkward situation for the umpteenth time in the past couple of weeks and I realized what’s so pathetic about my life. I am without joy. Sadly, Posh pointed this out a while ago and I just brushed it off as nonsense cause I just could not believe it. But her insight was uncanny.

Clarification is in order. I’m not exactly rushing to find a way to get my face off the planet. I exist and function and handle my duties without issue. But when it comes down to it, I am just striving to be content instead of striving to be happy, or even my happiest. I am constantly concerned about the enjoyment of others but have neglected to focus on my own happiness.

It’s true that I get a certain amount of pleasure from seeing other people happy but what about when my efforts aren’t as successful as I would have hoped? Or it is just impossible to not hurt feelings? I feel like I’ve avoided doing things that might have been in my best interest to make sure someone else was not hurt. And look where it’s gotten me. Slowly learning to hate myself more and more.

People keep telling me I’m a great person but I always have trouble believing them. I am in a constant pathway of proving myself worthy in the sights of those around me. Sometimes it’s friends. Sometimes perfect strangers. Even my boys at White Hall. How do I go about proving I’m worthy to myself? How do I find the balance where I help others as much as possible while making sure I’m taken care of? My efforts at sacrificing what I considered minor gains in happiness have accumulated to the point where I have a lack of it. That’s not the point of life. For too long, contentment has been enough. But I want to be happy. Anyone with tips on how to get there please contact me at slowlylosingmymind@hotchie.com

Sweet South Lancaster

When people ask where I go to school, in the past I would shy my head away and just say Massachusetts. For the more inquisitive, I would have to respond "a small town outside of Boston." Most times that would satiate the inquisitor. Straight up, I was just embarrassed to be here. As a proud city boy, it was excruciating to be here.

So its surprising when I say that I've grown to love the place. Even though it's quiet and you can't get a decent bite to eat after midnight, it's not without its charms. I think the thing that has amazed me the most is my discovery of the moon. In the city, you see the moon and you're not really impressed. But out here, the moon means something. Unwalkable streets are well lit during a full moon. It never ceases to amaze me. There's no amount of artificial light that can blow my mind like that.

Plus the fact that people make a point to say hi to you in the street and make eye contact. And I'm closer to a part of my family I was sadly too long without. But South Lancaster is a great place. Still won't live here forever though

Belonging Part 2

Yeah so every day I've been doing this guilty pleasure thing - okay it's straight up self-interested. And that is constantly going to my Hi5 page and noticing all there is to know about Adam. Or at least as much as the site can tell you. Alledgedly, it is a way to keep in contact with all your friends and meet their friends so you can make new ones and so on and so on. You can do a journal and get testimonials written up about you. It's all one grand party.

But then honestly I look at people with 176 friends and I wonder "Are they really your friends? Do you honestly have sustained and meaningful conversations with these individuals on a regular basis? Do you even want to?" I realized that for the most part the people I do like like that aren't on the website at all. I really just joined because the bloody e-mails inviting me to join were becoming a hassle and I like staking out one more claim in the vast internet wasteland.

But it is a treat to see this other side of people that I usually give a passing hello too. Some of their hopes and dreams and slang or whatever. And that's just one more shot of wanting to be a part of something. Some form of understanding of the world that exists around you.

Climax

For most individuals, sex is seen as a necessary component of a healthy relationship. But still that component is regularly looked upon with the same devotion as cardiovascular exercise. What I'm saying is that sex is often looked upon as being very physical. And the most physical of these goals is the climax. But now I realize that the climax can be the penultimate goal of the emotional side of sex. Imagine that you reach your height of pleasure with some individual. Wouldn't it be fitting for that peak to be realized with someone that you love? It shouldn't me some momentary and fleeting thing with an interchangeable partner. Ideally, it should be with that one person that you crave to spend time with in and out of the bedroom. Just a passing thought.

R.I.P. Boy Wonder's Hard Drive

I was just informed that Boy Wonder's hard drive's heart stopped earlier this week. This news brings great sadness to my heart. Affectionately referred to as Big Bytie by those close to her, she had an amazing capacity to store data and in turn to store our love, for as much as she took in, she gave back so much more. I remember fondly looking across her partitions and thinking that I could never be tired of reading all that she had to offer. It is so sad to see her go. I can only hope that in an afterlife, she can serve as some sort of doorstop or coaster. Farewell sweet princess. Your sleep is nigh.

I'm Screwed

I don't think I can win the way I'm playing. Every step I take, seemingly in the right direction, is fraught with unexpected consequences. So honestly I'm sitting on the bench for a while and playing the spectator. Cause this thing is overrated. Life ain't simple but I doubt it should be this complicated either. Sorry I'm being cryptic but it is 3 in the morning and I'm tired and I've probably lost a pint of blood from my awesome new tattoo. But dammit I'm taking a bloody break.

PS Not from the blog. I know you missed me

Belonging

This past week was a breakthrough week for me at work. Not for what happened on the shifts, but rather the extensive conversations that I had with my colleagues immediately after. Even though we usually get out at 10 or so, we spend rather long amounts of time just talking, about what seems like everything. One bitch session lasted till midnight.

I also found out that people like working with me and that kids, who sometimes hit me or curse me out, actually enjoy spending time with me. I’m even called on as a preferred staff on a couple of occasions, though I know I am nowhere near the upper echelon some of my co-workers inhabit. But what I realized was so pleasurable about these revelations is that I felt like I was one of the group. My presence was at best desired and at worst appreciated.

And isn’t that what we are all looking for? A group or experience where we feel welcome and loved to some degree. I realize that is what some of my kids are missing and why they have the problems they have now. Most of their actions are just cries for love and inclusion. I might not injure those around me for that same feeling but I’m not that different from those kids, or from the human race for that matter.

I went to church last Sabbath and everyone just kind of came and said hi or whatever. But it was so refreshing. It might sound egotistical but it’s probably more of a testament to my self-esteem. It’s just nice to get that reassurance sometime. It’s probably why I am a serial monogamist. That desire to be a part of something where I get that love in return. It’s probably why a simple conversation with a friend can have me high for hours. That give and take where you feel connected to something is just intoxicating. I have to find a healthy way to feel that all the time or it could be detrimental.

More Insight Into My Personality

I just found this somewhere on my computer. Not sure if I ever posted it before. But late last night I found it oddly compelling so I'll publish it again. God knows where I took this online test to give me these results but they seem rather prescient.

You have a strong personality that likes to take risks if the rewards are worth it. You don't like being told what to do and prefer to take matters into your own hands.

Preferring a more casual appearance, you are more comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt than in a suit. You don't like over dressing for any occasion, although you never look scruffy.

You are aggressive in business, but tend to take the backseat when it comes to your personal life. You are more comfortable talking about work than relationships.

You are a very practical person. It's more important to you that the things you own are useful, rather than nice to look at.

A good listener. You are comfortable allowing others to take the spotlight and share their adventures. You are protective about your friendship and ensure the best for your friends.

You are a good listener, a generous and sympathetic person. You are an important part of your circle of friends, and offer a bright outlook to any situation. However, you can be easily persuaded by others.

I Found The Answer

A couple postings ago – okay it was February – I had trouble discerning what exactly makes me angry. Sadly I found the solution to the equation: Cheating.

Coffee Bean, who I dated for six months, cheated on me. It was a simple make-out session with an ex-boyfriend she assured me was just a friend, but the damage was done. In addition to the cruelty of the deed, she continued to act like everything was going swimmingly. That just made it worse.

Here I am, honestly putting my all into the relationship and she didn’t have the decency to respect it. Initially I was shocked, hurt to a degree I didn’t realize I could inhabit. But as time has passed and I have retold the whole sordid affair to some of my contemporaries, I realize that my words, whether spoken or typed, are laced with venom.

It is a miracle that I can even speak to her at times. Because everyone I’ve told has said how shitty of an experience it should be. And it is quite crappy. But I loved her, probably still love, and as with all things in my life, it’s hard to let go. I am a packrat of emotions and I guess I’m desperately clinging to the unabated joy I felt before the incident.

I guess the thing I’m most angry about is that she put me in a position to have these feelings about her. She ascended to rarefied air in my heart, a place few will ever reach. And now I feel as though she has to be sent back to congregate with the mere mortals. And in that simple truth lies the most upsetting thing.

Oh What A Wonderful Week

Do you ever have a seven day period where everything seems to just flow together? Where even the bad stuff that happens actually doesn't bother you too much; it's more like a necessary part that allows the rest of your week to have cohesion. Such was my experience this week. Class went well and is now over. (Goodbye physics! Hello Organic Chemistry!) I had wonderful interactions with a host of different people this week. Got a great haircut (Thanks China) Saw a great movie (Charlie & The Chocolate Factory. Can I just say that Johnny Depp does one of the best Michael Jackson impressions ever and for that he is solidified as the best actor of this generation). Did some great shopping. Went to a great party that sounded like my dream MP3 list. Just utter beauty. I might have had a shoe thrown at my crotch. I might have had a puch to my schnozz. I might have been riding the some kids legs as he thrashed about trying to get out of a hold. But it was all worth it. I didn't even feel uncomfortable when I was getting hit on by a guy. And I still got one more day left in it. So I'm gonna enjoy this mutha for all its worth

Floundering....Moi?!?!?!?!

That’s what the somewhat reconciled Drizzle called it. At first I was taken aback, because it just seems so harsh. Have I really become that inactive? Am I just treading water? But in hindsight, it seems I might be.

I am so glad that I discovered my friendship with my Brother From Another Mother. Not only do we have similar and excellent tastes in music and entertainment, but also we both have the same dilemma: young, gifted and black with no idea of what to do with ourselves.

Here we are knowledgeable and skilled cats so paralyzed by uncertainty and fear that our talents are being squandered. BFAM said it best that we were both waiting for a “dare to be great” moment. That was just so on point. We’re not averse to doing great things. We just haven’t been presented with the opportunity.

But instead of waiting for the lotto ticket to blow up, maybe we should go make the opportunity. It’s just that I don’t know where to step. It seems as though there are too many paths and I’m not trying to get on the wrong one. I’ve jacked up things enough already. But maybe failing will lead me to the success. Your guess is as good as mine.

Where Have You Been

Busy is the simple answer. But really what have I been busy doing? Nothing. Except sitting on a wellspring of experiences and emotions that have been building up for so long. I've started a new occupation. Maybe switched up my complete career goals. Repaired relationships with not one but two ex-girlfriends. Seen the summits and valleys of romantic relationship. Found out how much I love the friendships I have. And realized that life is pretty grand and I've been hiding from it for way too long. So expect an explosion from me pretty soon. It's gonna get warm and toasty up in here

Melanin Is So Overrated

I grew up in New York City, arguably the most diverse city in the world. Even in the city, it is possible to stick with one’s own group and live an insular and myopic life devoid of exposure to the depths of the people around you. Which is why I am so proud of the way I was brought up.

I’ve gone to a predominantly West Indian church my whole life and attend its elementary school. But my preschool years and summers were spent in institutions in my own neighborhood, which is still predominantly white. In addition, my mom made sure to expose me to the many cultural aspects of life. This came in handy when I went to high school, where the students were 40 % white, 40 % Asian, and 20 % minority.

Now I say all this as background to the fact that I am attracted to all different types of women. While I am more drawn to qualities usually attributed to minority women – i.e. thickness, skin tone – but I’m not exclusive in that regard either. So it alarms me when some of the people I’m close to threaten to cut off ties with me if I end up with a white woman.

Initially, it was just Posh, my ex-girlfriend. She discovered her blackness and has been on a whole “Black is Beautiful” thing for a while. I could easily dismiss that. But my newfound Brother From Another Mother (BFAM) alerted me that he would cut me loose if such an event occurred. After some goading, he finally said he would accept her but still, his initial comments were striking nonetheless.

His reasoning was that I was one of the most “conscious” cats and to do something like that would be illogical. I admit that I am more attuned to the “struggle” and plight of black people than the average citizen. I’ve been forced to because of my complexion. But it doesn’t define me. I want to be seen for more than just my blackness. It is just one facet amongst many that makes me me.

I embrace my heritage. I appreciate the sacrifices that my ancestors took on my behalf just so I could experience writing this insignificant blog. But my interests and dreams aren’t shaped by that. If I find my soul mate in a country girl from Iowa, how could I inflict the pain of not being with her cause she’s more prone to sunburn?

I realize the caveats of miscegenation. To this day, people second guess and give questioning glares. The children of said unions grow up with the chance of a misplaced identity. But these can be overcome. Isn’t true love supposed to conquer all?

I’m not ardent trying to toss my personal sphere on its ear, but if that’s the path that’s presented to me, please believe everybody better get ready.

Daughters Are Deadly

As many girls' names as I've come up with I am deftly afraid of having female offspring. The role of the father in the daughter's upbringing is beyond important. If you fail you'll prematurely be a grandfather or carting your daughter off to a hospital for treatment for abuses suffered at the hands of herself or others. They are messes that need constant supervision. And the Lord is going to give me like 4

What Gets You Heated?

An interesting question was posed to me last night by my good friend Socrates. See he's never seen me upset, at least to the point of fuming or steam escaping my ears. So he wanted to know what gets me heated. And I thought about it for a while. And I couldn't come up with anything.

I'm not saying I've never been heated. But most of the situations involved individuals on the phone. But what was it in the conversation that got me to the point of throwing phones and downing drinks? I guess maybe it was people criticizing me for being insincere. Or demanding something of me which I already thought I was giving or wasn't capable of giving. I guess the things that get me heated are the things that attack me personally.

And even those things don't bother me as much anymore. I lost a phone to my anger so I try to keep it under control. Plus I've seen my parents get angry and I personally think it's shaved like 5 or 6 years from my father's life expectancy. If you can't maintain an even keel, you're useless. And I've proved useless enough doing nothing. WHy exacerbate the problem?

The Power of Prayer

So I found out that my good friend Lady Godiva found out that her boyfriend prayed about her. She's not physically injured or actively pursuing witchcraft-like activities. Her fear of having her eyes permanently crossed prevents that from ever happening. But in fact, he prayed about her in regards to their relationship. Whoa.

Now I'm a Christian. I believe in a Divine Being up there. And I pray to Him on a regular basis cause I think that He has a direct influence in my life. But her tale made me realize something as well. Mentioning the act of prayer has a way of having just as much influence as the act of praying or being the subject of a prayer.

Take Lady G's situation. Because of the prayer mention, she now realizes how serious this boy is about her, much to her dissatisfaction since she's likened him to a Hyundai after a string of luxury cars. This is further accentuated by the boy's natural demeanor: lazy. Most of his leisure time is dedicated to the art of relaxing. The fact that he took time out of his hectic schedule of sleeping and eating to have a discussion with the Almighty speaks very loud volumes.

And of course there are many other examples. Sometimes just seeing or hearing about someone praying makes people look more inwardly into themselves, makes them ask the questions that people most often tend to avoid. But just mentioning someone's inclusion in a prayer has the effect of being a healing agent just that simply. And there are a thousand other functions that I am probably overlooking as well. Makes one want to get their knees.

People Ain't Got Nothing To Do

I was going to let the stuff go, but I need to vent about the most popular leisure activity in South Lancaster, MA: gossiping. You would think at a Christian institution, where they allegedly follow the teachings of the Bible, they would shy away from unsubstantiated talk about one another. Nah. It seems it just accentuates it.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, it got to Posh in Boston that I was dating. That's whatever. It's aggravating but it makes sense since she's kept some of the same friends. But when the person in Student Accounts who handles me being registered for the semester knows about it too, that's just crazy. She's staff. She just randomly heard it in the waiting room. Do these people have absolutely nothing to do.

Read a book. Write a song. Just stay the hell out of my life. This place is crazy. I was in the only pizzeria in town last night with the Boy Wonder at around 9 and we were the only ones there. The only ones!!! Only restaurant. No big sports events. But there were tumbleweeds and vultures circling the establishment. This is bloody infuriating.

Other than not going to jail and keeping shelter, one of my prime objectives in life is to avoid empathizing with a Brandy song, but now I sadly find myself in that position. Woe is me.

Oh What A Tangled Web

The life of Adam Anthony Scott Carnegie gets more and more complicated as life moves on. The compasssionate hedonist thing isn't working out as well as I would have hoped. Living for yourself is somewhat problematic when you actually care about the feelings of others.

So I'm visiting my ex-girlfriend Posh since she visited her parentals for the weekend. We're still friends and all, at least I'm trying to be. But of course the rumor mill in this little hamlet I call home reachced back to her and she got word that I was dating. Now I was hoping to shy away from the question, inquiring as to the sources of the "rumor" and if there were any supposed candidates in particular. But of course I failed.

And I had to come clean. And I had to say that I was in the beginning stages of something, with someone that she predicted I'd end up with. And then what I was trying to avoid occurred. So I was accused of lying, but I didn't. I just covered up truth I thought she didn't want to hear. If not saying what you think will hurt someone is that really lying. I didn't go out of my way to deceive.

But it is what it is? And the question remains can two ex-significant others really continue a relationship as just friends? I mean talk about everything, including their new romantic relationships. I seriously doubt it. And to those who honestly believe they achieved it kudos or I'm praying for you cause you might be delusional. Even when I talk to Drizzle in Texas, there's an unspoken agreement not to mention new developments on the battlefield of love.

Maybe this is just the hurdle I had to clear to experience that type of relationship for myself. I wasn't kicked out the house. A drink wasn't poured on my head. I didn't get a slap on the face. She still wants me to do my subpar poetry at some nonprofit shindig she's throwing. But there was an uneasiness as I left. And I hate that. Insert primal scream here.

Dream Occupation

I just happened to notice some cars parked. No I'm not under the influence of mind-altering substances. But it made me remember an incident where I realized how sick a driver my dad is. It all happened sometime in my high school years. We were visiting Maryland and at church there. When we went to leave we saw that some inconsiderate idiot had parked their car in a fashion that made it seriously difficult to get out. Just as my mom was about to go inside to find the perpetrator, Dad waved her off. It seemed like a movie at that point, the way he waved his hand seemed to cue off the slow motion. He just got in the car as we watched. He backed out some, adjusted the wheels, and drove back in. Over and over he repeated the process as my mom and I looked at each other from opposite sides of the car, communicating with our eyes that this was impossible. But as time went on, it seemed more and more plausible. After about seven minutes of moving, the BMW we had christened Casey broke free of the Mercury Cougar's restraint, free as a bird. I almost wanted to go hug my dad. I wanted to brag to everyone "Did you see what he just did?"

And know I realize that being a stunt driver would have been Dad's ideal occupation. His brain is capable of amazing things, but it has been consistently fried with the frustrations of the conventional and uncoventional 9 to 5. This is a man whose foot seems to have built in cruise control. He seamlessly switches lanes like a pro. And skids have never presented a problem. Plus he learned to drive in the mean streets of New York City. That's saying something in and of itself. They're don't even register on his radar. So with his skills and the supposed free and easy work schedule of the stunt driver it would have been perfect. He'd get paid. He'd have loads of free time to do the whatever that he does. And all would have been happy. Sad that this line of work is not emphasized in the island of Jamaica.

I need to be as good as that though. Even if I only use interstates and stay in the boondocks forever. I will pimp the road.

Do I Know Everything?

So I walk into the dorm and the eccentric Leonard is working front desk. Leonard looks like the prisoner from the Green Mile except like 8 inches shorter. Any way, I get to my door glad that no one was in the halls to question my late entry. No sooner does my phone ring, thinking that I was caught or something. Nope. It's Leonard asking a legal question. I've never worked in a law office. Not taking one class related to it. Does taking the LSAT make me a novide legal advisor? Or is my intellect just that respected that it's just assumed that I would know the answer? I'm not sure to chalk it up to weirdness or take it as a compliment. Guess I'll go with the last one.

I Went Sledding Today

And you didn't. It's wonderful being Peter Pan in Northeast Neverland.

Moving Abroad

As I finally accept that I am coming to a crossroads in my life, the idea has set in that I have to choose where I will reside for the near future. Originally, I have mainly just assumed that I would just stay here in the Northeast, happy amongst my blue state compatriots. But I keep getting the premonition that I should really pack my bags and step into the great unknown. That's right people. I'm talking about the Southern United States of America.

I have already begun to explore the types of papers and vaccinations that one needs to make such a journey and have found that it is not such a painstaking process. Alledgedly one does not even need a passport to come and go as you please. It must be the work of some free trade agreement I must have overlooked.

Seriously though, the South has always had some allure for me I figure. In my frantic pre-college days, I was an ardent University of North Carolina basketball fan. As I advanced and realized they didn't have my intended major (biomedical engineering, funny isn't it), I did the unspeakable and switched my allegiance to Duke. If I didn't get into Duke, I was set to go to the University of Virginia. Even though the restaurant we visited had its music literally stop as soon as my family walked in the door, I appreciated the feigned hospitality of that diner waitress. Even though the racism still permeates, there's still that hospitality and etiquette thing that draws me in.

Plus it seems that they have a much more relaxed pace of life, an unhurried motion that really speaks to the inner lazy man in me, which tends to bitch me around on a regular basis. And my friends point out that I slip into some fabricated Southern lilt in my speech on a more than normal basis for a man who never spent much time below the Beltway in D.C. The only other accent I slip into with approaching regularity is some form of British thing, and I'm not ready to actually get papers ready to go there. That would require work which goes against the whole Southern thing that looks so good. Plus they don't like Americans that do bad British accents. That's why they were so scared when Renee Zellweger did Bridget Jones' Diary. And they're great cooks, that love to barbecue. Ribs! Did you hear me?!?! Ribs!

Maybe this freezing weather (one more day of cancelled school) is affecting me. Maybe it's the endless barrage of Southern hip-hop videos I willingly subject myself to. Somehow Atlanta, Texas, and Florida are on my list of possible destinations despite the redness of their politics. And that's just peachy keen with me.

The Big Screen

Since yesterday's Oscar nominations were handed out, I started to wonder why it is that so many stars long to be on the big screen. Actually I was thinking, why don't stars like to aim for the small screen. Even when they get there, they seem to be willing to take the smallest part just to be in a movie. Is it that serious?

Is it the allure of being in some form of medium forever? Can't be cause between syndication and DVD's, TV shows will never die. I guess it must be for artistic freedom or some philosophical thing. It can't be fame though. If you're lucky enough to get on a hit show that means that 20 million people are watching you every week. Plus it's a steady salary and not subject to the whims of bad box office. If I were an actor, that's all I'd want: steady big paycheck. Maybe that whole artistic thing is actually true for some of these people. Or confused vanity.

Team Support Gone Awry

As there is nothing to do in the twin outposts of Lancaster and Clinton, one gets so bored that you get fascinated with the change of marquees on the signage of our fine dining establishments. It's so sad that you can actually get excited about fast food specials that you normally, and intelligently, would overlook. Knowing that Charmin is on sale is an oddly comforting distraction in Middle of Nowhere, MA.

Sometimes these semi-rural cats take it too far. Before I delve deeper I must get one important point on paper. Massachusetts sports fans are some of the most fanatic on the planet. In the world sports fan championships, Bay Staters should be the American representatives against the soccer hooligans of Europe. It's even stranger coming from bandwagon central, also known as New York City. Our football teams are in New Jersey, our baseball teams tend to price out tickets for the normal working folk, and it's more of a celebration when you get Knicks tickets than actually being there. I think its more fun to read about sports in the city then actually participate in activer spectating.

Anyway back to the marquee. The location of the offense was our KFC/Taco Bell 2-in-1 extravaganza. And so on Thursday before their eventual AFC Championship game win the signage read: "Patriots Eat Chicken....Be A Patriot". Uhhhh...what?!?!??! Are you kidding me? The fact that someone even thought to put that up pushes a button in me that I can't even explain.

I mean I enjoyed the Red Sox winning cause I hate the Yankees. And the Patriots are just like them, they play like a team. Nobody shines too bright. Just a cohesive unit , the way sports is supposed to be played, ideally. Other than their ritual smackdown of the New York Jets, I don't mind them at all. Stuff like that dumb marquee makes me want to root against them though. And then I can have all the chicken for myself. All of it.

Great Day

We now interrupt this regularly scheduled programming to let you know that it's just a fantastic day. Yeah the wind picks up every once in a while. But the sun is shining and it's just honestly fantastic to be breathing. I was so joyful that I had to stop and pray and thank God for the feeling. I was really half skipping and just busting out in exorbitant shouts of joy. Just had to say that. You may now return to drab life.

Five - O

As I walked to my Brooklyn home the other night, I found myself tensing up. Was there some shadowy figure sauntering behind me threatening to take me cell phone and any other valuables I possessed. Quite the contrary. I saw a police car idling by an emergency management center a quarter mile ahead of me. This is a car that has been stationed since the attacks of 9-11. The sideway has been blocked off since then to prevent terrorists from doing anything, theoretically. (It still baffles me as to what them being stationed there means because someone like me can just walk along side it and throw some time bomb on top of the roof like every Hollywood action movie of the past 25 years) Nevertheless, I tensed up. Started telling myself to just be cool. Then I realized I was an idiot.

I wasn't doing anything wrong or performing any other suspicious behavior. My face didn't resemble some fugitive on the run. So why did my brain get all freaked out and try to calm itself down. I must say I've always had an uneasy relationship with the police. I have no reason why. I lived in a predominantly white neighborhood that had little crime. I honestly don't remember seeing them as a child. But maybe growing up watching snippets of Def Comedy Jam and Comedy Central, I guess I developed a distaste. In each of my confrontations with police I have always been surly and walked past them. After Louima and Diallo, I guess I stopped carrying my wallet and learning my plunger nunchuks skills.

I do respect them for what they do. If I ever worked for the police though, I'd be the guy they all hate in Internal Affairs, busting their chops on the simplest of regulations. This year I hope to make friends of the 5-0.

I Need A Fix

Recently, an article in the New York Times analyzed the genetic engineering agenda. Basically the article was advocating the prioritizing of studying the varying effects genetics can have on different diseases. The things that need to be first up on the plan are the conditions that are just uncontrollable, that environment or behavior can't change. Stuff like breast cancer or Type I diabetes. Other stuff like hypertension that can be helped with diet and exercise should take a back seat. What was most startling about the article that addiction was one of the things that could be possibly studied and worked on.

I guess somewhere deep in my mind I realized that addiction is probably something influenced by genetic factors. Certain individuals get addicted to things much more hardcore than others. But does it really warrant study, and possible treatment to make sure that they don't get addicted? It seems like this type of action is overreacting. Addiction is a part of human nature. I can't imagine going to my neighborhood genetic engineering firm in the future and ordering a baby that couldn't get addicted. The positives, like avoiding dangerous narcotics and Spice Girls albums, don't outweigh the negatives.

Is it me or is addiction one of the reasons that humans have sustained life for all these years? If people didn't get addicted, people wouldn't have evolved to the place where we are. In my view, addiction is pivotal to passion. Would Edison have kept working to get that light bulb working if he weren't addicted to making sure it did work? Would Gandhi have been as passionate at working towards a free India if he didn't get a taste of that drug freedom during his studies abroad? I doubt that very highly.

I mean look at love. That's the best addiction out there. Something about when you kiss that special someone makes you want to get another taste later, and another one, and another one. Love makes you addicted to making sure that the other person is taken care of, that harm doesn't come their way. Is it worth rewiring the framework of a human to make sure they don't waste their time on nicotine if the end result is a person who can't feel passion? The results would resemble an assembly line of robots that has been the subject of book after book and movie after movie. That type of world seems cold and uninhabitable.

Addiction is how some of the world's great achievements have been met. Beethoven was addicted to those symphonies. Warhol was addicted to those paintings. And if that starving musician strumming on a guitar in a coffeehouse somewhere lost that addiction to keep writing and try to find that chord, the world would lose the wonderful palette of hues that makes it worth getting up those mornings where everything doesn't seem to make sense.

I'm all for the study of addiction. I'd love to know what neurons have to fire and what receptors have to be hit in order for an addiction to latch in the brain, and how it can be broken up. But don't take away the ability for it to happen. That's just way too harsh.

Allow Me To Reintroduce Myself

My name is Adam Carnegie and I am the author of this blog. I took an absence, well because I was trying to get my life on track. And then after that I still wasn't myself, at least not the type of self that posted on a blog on a regular basis. That random independent thought was absent. But I don't know if it's the new year, or maybe this cold-ass weather, but I feel rejuvenated. I'm not saying I'm the most entertaining. I'm probably the only one reading this. But I feel that it needs to come out. So I am reclaiming my blog and there's nothing anyone can do about it.