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