Daily routine

breathe.
write.
breathe.
write.
write.
breathe.
repeat.

welcome to my world. i write. i right. i write. and right.

it just doesn't stop. i'm in a constant feed of words. it's all i can think about. it's all i do. i eat, breathe, sleep, and write. and if there's a moment i'm not writing, i'm reading. if i'm not reading, i'm talking to a source who will help me start writing. i'm constantly in the action of writing something, anything. which has constantly left me with ripped pages all over my room, overused pens, and a tough semester.

but this is what i wanted right? to be a writer.

what i've noticed is that my love for writing hasn't diminished. though i thought when i changed my major to journalism, i'd hate it. but i don't. if anything, it's given me a greater appreciation for folks who write for a living. whether it'd be creatively or critically, i respect the words that come from journalists and artists more now.

however, i feel i'm getting to the point where i want to move forward with what i write about. lately, i've been getting frustrated with the material i have to write in class. it's as if i can't fully grasp the subject i've been given. as if i can't input my own spin to it. that i'm left just writing to write to get by which leaves my words bland... lacking that energy and enthusiasm a writer should always carry in any story. so as of late, i've been lacking some real identity in my work. which in turn, makes me not want to read over what i just wrote.

although, i'm realizing as i'm deterring away from the topics i have to write for in class, i'm moving closer and closer towards different issues, topics, & news i am truly passionate about outside of class. it's got me going in different ways. my minds constantly feeding words onto pages off the record. so much so that when i get home from class, i write about things irrelevant and find myself in a state where i can't stop writing. which is definitely the complete opposite when i'm in class. my mind hits a brick wall. i just can't seem to find a medium between the two.

i need inspiration on both sides of my writing. on and off the record.

Tina Fey for "Vice-President?"

so last week during my Media Studies seminar, the kids in my class broke out into discussion about the upcoming elections and its candidates. while there were some intellectual opinions and heated debates going on, there was one statement by the guy in the back of the class that hit me the most. he said:

"Hey! Sarah Palin kind of looks like Tina Fey!"

and... apparently, SNL seems to think the same.


http://embeds.blogs.foxnews.com/2008/09/14/palin-catches-snl/

and the livin's easy.

the good life short lived in paradise...

in 10 days: jet skiing, snorkeling, para-sailing, surfing, tanning, swimming, hiking, dancing, walking, meeting new folks, & being surrounded by locals = pure bliss

by far one of the best summers i've had.

TRUCE.

M.I.A.

well, i'm back from my vacation in "Paradise..."


but now I'm on to "Sin City" w/ the family. Talk about another spontaneous trip, yeah? Promise, I'll update w/ pics & everrrrrythang when I get settled back in the city.

*Countdown to school: exactly one week.

So hope ya'll are livin' up the last few days of summer. YEE!

update!

so a lot of shit has been going down. a lot of words/poetry have been written. a lot of changes have been occurring.
i'm leaving for a southern california road trip on wednesday. i passed all my classes last session :], and dropped all my classes this session. *chuckles* now i work, actually work work.

what has been going on. i'm trying to recall. jordan sent me a really sweet message. i'm actually dealing with past situations, and finding the truth in myself and in my situations-which is chill. i shaved half my head. of course, my dad doensn't like it. i've overdrafted possibly 12 times.



i went to the frida kahlo exhibit. have been drinking/smoking a lot of herb. have four plants right now chilling on the deck. apparently, ishi is now an indoor/outdoor cat. *shrugs* kind of makes me sad. I'm actually looking for a bigger place.

I'm sketched that i'm turning twenty-one and graduating. Maybe not so much scared as much as i am paranoid of what this year will bring. my landlord is fucking crazy. still.

i visited ayleen in frisco. that was a really good day. $1.50 pizza, rocks. i've met serena's parents. and sonya's dad. they're really rad. i'm actually really stoked to be a part of their companionship i guess. i mean, im not going to lie. this summer has been really challenging and lonely for me because i find myself missing what i know as 'my family' of friends. and the girls haven't been in my life since jan. and a lot has just happened, you know? and a lot of things are happening that i'm sure will change things, too. so i'm trying to bank on the fact that... certain friends will still be around, and support me-because that's what i'm really scared of. graduating w/ no family members left, rebuilding/restructuring my relations/situations spring quarter of my senior year, and being super depressed off it. because i've made a decision for myself this summer. but, don't get me wrong. i know, i created the situation, have to handle it, and take responsibilities for its consequences. i know. but, i also know i don't deserve shit either. you know?

anyways, i'm going to leave you with a few photos. and i had the most hilarious conversation with my boss, angela today that went along the lines of.

angela: what happened?
me: brr, idk
angela: wow
me: i obviously had a really long night
angela: you shouldn't do that to yourself
me: haha, i know
angela: oh wow, its on the other side, too
me: *walking towards door* wow, this is like really embarrassing, now
angela: no, its just amusing me.

erin is in europe. i really miss her. heh, its still hard for me to pass by APT. 14. wink wink, nudge nudge.
i get to see jordan, soon.
i'm going to fucking miss my homeslice, lyn pag. hawaii without me. damn.
TANYA. tanya is what im fucking after, and i'm bringing my guitar.
sonya altered my life in the matter of days. i'm glad we got passed our first impressions.

the boys are bomb.

You's a smooth operator.

it's 2:20 am and i'm here chillin' with Luther Vandross singing "Never too much" to me... on repeat. please tell me wassup with this image?



CLASSIC.

so... i predict the next few days in August are gonna go by quick. so quick actually that i wish i could slow down time. with Hawaii coming up in 3-4 days, Bals leaving in less than 2 weeks ( BOO! :[ ), Arjel arriving in between those days, & school coming at the end of the month i'm left with an unfinished checklist. sucks. which is still crazy to me considering at the beginning of summer, it felt like we had too much time. i remember we used to waste days drinking 40's while still being responsible enough to work, play ball at 1 in the morning, & explore the city. we were livin' like royalties. but now? we're on a time limit. it's fucking August & we only have enough time for 27 more days (or less) to do that kind of shit. which basically sucks the spontaneity out of summer a bit. but whatever!

hokayyy, so with that said the plan tomorrow should be cool. we're planning on going to the farmer's market in the morning, then rainforest cafe, possibly shopping?, then idk what else after. it's pretty much up in the air. basically a typical spontaneous adventure in the city for Bals & i on a Saturday. ekkkkkkksiiiiiiting. so we'll see where we end up. i pray though we stay out of the clear this time and out of trouble. no more weird happenings on the bus, PLEASE. damn.

anyway, here's a quick shoutout to my girls:




HOLLATCHAGURRRRRL.

it is indeed, a good morning. thanks.

it's 7:08am and i'm awake, YEAHHHHHHH.

my mom woke me up around 6am and i just finished making her breakfast. about 8 minutes ago i was hella bitter to get out of my bed, but right now i'm pretty glad i did. i just checked my email & got a special message from someone whom i admire so much. it's a trip the fool even responded. but it definitely made my morning.

and now i can't get back to bed.

funny how one person and a few words can change your morning. or more recently, change my week.

i'm free-eee-eee.

cause summer school es finito. dunzo. COMPLETE.
*insert celebration dance here*

it's such a trip to know 6 weeks went by so fast. i can still remember the first week of school when i kept calling Ann during my breaks and eating my breakfast so bitterly on a bench. now fast forward that poor image to 6 weeks later and i feel fucking accomplished. such a good feeling. now all i must do is wait for the grade and hope for the best.

so with summer school out of the way, i got a lot i can do now. the days can kinda resort to how it was back in the beginning of the summer. except maybe just a little different now? i got plans. so many plans actually that i'm going to the store to buy a new planner. i got approximately a month and 5 days to soak in the summer love and get some other biznaz taken care of.

and ummm.... i realize this is such an alcoholic thing to say, but i'm not gonna lie i'm kinda feenin' to get wasted pretty soon. so how bout it folks? it's been too sober.

HAHA.

lemme get at that Shorty Fatz though.

every time i read the newspaper every morning i come across one or a few of amazing people with lifestyles i sometimes envy. when journalists aren't focusing on the war or the election, the newspaper shines light on those entrepreneurs, activists, and even simple people with extraordinary ideas that catch my attention.

so after reading the newspaper today, i discovered Shorty Fatz, a unique bike shop created by ESSJ's finest: Sam Rodriguez & Matthew Rodriguez. i read the article this afternoon when i got home from class and immediately began drooling over a picture of one of their unique cruiser bikes. i never saw a bike that uniquely beautiful before!

according to the Mercury News, these two bike makers have never had any formal training on actually creating bikes. they simply feed off of creativity. what was once a mere fascination for welding, building, and tagging has now collaborated into a piece of art on wheels.

Shorty Fatz bikes are meant for cruising and chillin. it's not a typical bike to be racing in. but according to the society today, these "ultra-ultra cool bikes" are what people are wanting right now. although they've only sold two dozen since they started, they've been seeking much more admiration. especially since their bikes have been shown in the Oakland Museum of Art and San Jose's Anno Domini gallery. with their sheek, incomparable, and mixture of graffiti and low-rider barrio bikes Shorty Fatz are one of a kind.

so since i've been looking for a cruiser bike for awhile, this article undoubtedly had me stoked. i always knew of folks who custom made motorcycles but never actual bicycles. i tihnk it's a pretty sick concept now considering gas prices are so high. i'd definitely swoop one of these up right now if only i had the $$$ to do so. ahhh....



*(pictures courtesy of shorty fatz myspace - click here)
hit up their blog @ http://shortyfatz.blogspot.com for more.

So what have I been up to?

BEEN AROUND GOOD COMPANY. THAS ALL.

we all need checklists to check off...

here's mine.

**UPDATED: 9/18/08 @ 1:22am**

1. vacation to HI.
2. visit LA.
3. adventure in SC.
4. get a new camera.
5. get a voice recorder for Journalism II.
6. maybe a new iPod?
7. paint on a canvas.
8. create a stencil.
9. launch at least one edition of Deep-Fried Funk (online) Magazine
10. go to a show.
11. go to a museum.
12. meet someone new & keep them.
13. do something spontaneous & unexpected.
14. finish summer school with an "A."
15. watch "Dark Knight."
16. get my damn license!!!!!!!!!

that's it for now. i got 1 month & 15 days to accomplish these. WOO.

based on my experience as a person of color

a mixture of things.

i dub this piece 'no longer'

i can no longer bend my knees to fall forward onto pavements when
you find yourself in distance places. places inside your mind, inside your heart.
i can no longer reach for your hands when the cold has numbed them
because i can no longer fuel the fire of your happiness.

it is not me, nor who i wish to be. but rather the stagnant situation
in which i constantly find myself to be in.
with my stresses and yours alone
i become brittle in speech, ego, and strength.
rather i bow down in disgrace, wrapped up in self-hatred,
for the self-inflicting pain the ghosts of your past
draws so clearly onto your eyes.

i never asked for your love, or acceptance
because that is the one thing that i have tolerated
from everyone. rather i stand in disadvantaged lines,
sit in chairs made of plastic money and pretend i'm learning
something.

we may have walked similar avenues, and crossed the same streets,
perhaps we danced under the same light posts...but, trust me,
we are not.
our privileges, our struggles, they're different.
our fighting hearts may lie in the same belief--
but you are not me, nor am i you.

recently, i've moved beyond the limiting fantasies i once
enriched my own optimism to be. yet, time and time again,
i found myself falling. pretending to be invincible when truth knows
i was the most vulnerable victim to myself.

i placed empty jars across the window sills in hopes
rain would fall in and not flood the hopes i had left-
but instead the frustration and negativity of others
cracked them through and through.

some times i hear that people have good hearts
and that their minds are just displaced-
its just another excuse to justify the wars.
the wars we fight inside, and the wars we start with others.
this fuel, expensive fuel, is just a catalyst, a tool, an ideology
that a power, a power of three placed upon us, above us, and on our backs
so we could excuse ourselves from our behaviors, and disregard our hurt for one another.

i refuse to believe that there are certain institutions that we don't agree with because of their oppressive mentalities and behaviors towards certain demographics of person(s). because behind those lie layers, upon layers, as if histories repeat itself without any reach for a discontinuity of its regression. we must remind ourselves that in any truth, there is a lost and we must analyze our understandings and the foundations of those thoughts.

we continue to evade, evade the realities that face us on the daily.
instead we mark tracks and race across boulevards looking for the
next outlet, the next comfort. we refute the idea that the self is the only necessity that may ground us, take us to the next level of our highest being.
we just mask, mask ourselves and bask in what we idealize.

don't call it love if there is no solidarity, because i have learned quite plainly that love is not solid, but rather cracked in tiny places upon a cemented foundation that we didn't build, but someone else did.

[addition]

we act like rebels against a cause. bridging between oppression and advocacy. all we fight is silence, inside and out. and there is no savior in mind.
just ghostlike histories of assumed identities in drowning waters--intentionally drowning by the lightness of you.

this fucking system keeps us down, turning ideologies of communities into gangs and shame into poverties through these undetected properties. and my brothers and sisters read the histories of your people, instilling lies in our heads, rather creating avenues of silenced, willing deaths.

it's enough you choose to exploit at will what lies
in your land, in your hands--but then you fly into our
'homes' announcing war to threats you manifested in the
first place, to instill broken democracies.

stop telling my family that if they keep afloat and listen
to your phallo-centric infiltration that we will
win the fucking war. this is your war, not ours.
trying to save an economy due to fear, when were constantly
losing bodies to your systems of oppressions.

who's to break down the beams that hold your ceiling to high--in which
cascading suns brown your bodies while others color themselves red, and others ceilings collapse due to the rain of your hate.

bars, books, buildings allowed for your elevator ride onto your
awaiting pedastools. i can taste the constant conspiracies in my mouth
and the way it burns my skin. you censor books that are necessity, vital for pure education, you stigmatize our drugs you pour billions into pharmaceutical companies to label something "safe", "effective" rather than investing into resources that haven't changed since it was written into the system.

justice. justice. liberty? pursuit of happiness? for all. mind you that 'man' in law was only made for one kind.therefore the shackles you continue to force us to wear disallows for any type of revolution rather a subjugation, assimilation into your own right. rights.

i can no longer collapse to my knees, and scream in bitterness. the anger ruptures through my body like dominoes, one after the other,click.click.click.

apparently there really is just no rest for the weary.