Sandy is pretty much over and done with. Looking at what happened in New York, they should've called it Hurricane Gozer. Judging by the desperation of the people on the news, I'm guessing it wasn't as bad here in DC as they hyped it up to be. AOL Keyword: DC. The DC "area" gets hit hard in any storm, but DC itself usually doesn't have many problems. I turned on The Weather Channel this morning to see images of submerged buildings and cars. The banner across the screen said "Washington, DC," but the high tension power lines in the shot told me that it was somewhere out in Maryland. "DC AREA" just doesn't have the same ring to it I guess.
During the day I played Jim Cantore. That's when you go out into a storm wearing a weatherproof coat and test the limits of your life insurance. I was bored, so I figured I'd walk down to the grocery store and laugh at the people stocking up on ketchup and tastycakes. There were a few people there, but not enough to really entertain me so I grabbed some chips and Skittles and went home. Last night we popped some popcorn and stood in front of the window watching the tree out front do yoga in the wind. The capped off with a few episodes of The Wire and then we went to bed.
I feel for the people in NY and elsewhere who were seriously affected. I know some parts of DC were damaged, but it wasn't the 100 ft marshmallow man that they promised us.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Sunday, October 28, 2012
One Mic Stand
Tonight's conversation was about Domestic Violence in same sex relationships. Interesting stuff.
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/onemicstand/2012/10/29/when-loves-ones-attack
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/onemicstand/2012/10/29/when-loves-ones-attack
Frankenstorm
Call me a skeptic, but the whole time I was in Target yesterday I couldn't help but stare at the people filling their carts with canned goods, water and batteries and think to myself, "WE MUST PREPARE FOR THE COMING OF GOZER!" It's a storm. Not a "Frankenstorm," not "The Perfect Storm," just a storm. I'm certain that I sound like one of the people laughing at Noah while he was at Home Depot buying lumber, nails and ostrich cages, but I just don't think all of this media coverage is healthy. There's a fine line between warning people and scaring the shit out of people.
[caption id="attachment_2873" align="alignnone" width="604"]
Literally scaring the shit out of people[/caption]
I just think that sometimes the folks from Home Depot slide a little cash to the weather guys and we get Snowpocalypses and Frankenstorms.
Here's my prediction:
It will rain. Wind will blow. Trees will fall. Power will go out. Then...
People who live below sea level will complain about flooding.
People who live near trees will complain about toppled trees.
People with electricity that comes through a "power line" that runs through "trees" will marvel at the large-scale second grade science project when a tree falls on top of a power line and "un-completes" a circuit.
Grocery store and hardware store owners will dance in the streets.
Seriously, I hope no one gets hurt, but don't go insane out there. I saw people stocking up on steaks. That's great if you live in a house with a gas range, but I followed some of those people up the street and into my apartment building where all of us eat off of electric stoves. Maybe they have a table top grill in the trunk of their car like me, but I hope they also have a coal powered fridge.
I stockpiled Chef Boyardee only because I have a two year old who's grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle and expects to eat every single day. As for me and the lady...there's always peanut butter and jelly.
[caption id="attachment_2873" align="alignnone" width="604"]
Literally scaring the shit out of people[/caption]I just think that sometimes the folks from Home Depot slide a little cash to the weather guys and we get Snowpocalypses and Frankenstorms.
Here's my prediction:
It will rain. Wind will blow. Trees will fall. Power will go out. Then...
People who live below sea level will complain about flooding.
People who live near trees will complain about toppled trees.
People with electricity that comes through a "power line" that runs through "trees" will marvel at the large-scale second grade science project when a tree falls on top of a power line and "un-completes" a circuit.
Grocery store and hardware store owners will dance in the streets.
Seriously, I hope no one gets hurt, but don't go insane out there. I saw people stocking up on steaks. That's great if you live in a house with a gas range, but I followed some of those people up the street and into my apartment building where all of us eat off of electric stoves. Maybe they have a table top grill in the trunk of their car like me, but I hope they also have a coal powered fridge.
I stockpiled Chef Boyardee only because I have a two year old who's grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle and expects to eat every single day. As for me and the lady...there's always peanut butter and jelly.
Friday, October 26, 2012
That's All Folks!
Here's a thought I had this morning:
Earlier I tweeted a question asking what Wile E Coyote was eating in the meantime until he actually caught the roadrunner. Someone responded on Facebook saying that maybe it was all in his head. I took that a step further...
What if it's like An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge? What if one morning Wile E. Coyote, Supergenius, went out to the mailbox to find that his Acme flying suit had arrived and he set about to catch himself a roadrunner. He spent the better part of the day climbing a mountain and then, like Icarus and Daedalus, he took to the heavens. He flew after the roadrunner up and down the desert valley before eventually being outsmarted by the roadrunner and flying headfirst into a cliff.
What if everything that happened after that was all in his mind? What if it was an experience akin to his life flashing before his eyes, except it just one fantasy after another of him still chasing that roadrunner? His subconscious couldn't accept the inevitability of death, but his confidence was so dashed that it couldn't play out to see him actually catch the bird. Instead, he just had this seemingly endless cycle of adventures, one after another, where all of his best efforts (sometimes literally) blew up in his face.
Those delusions weren't meant to be taken literally. They were manifestations of his sense of failure. After all, here was a self-proclaimed supergenius. It said so right on the business card that he handed Bugs Bunny in an old episode. Here was a man who placed his entire self worth in academia. What was Chuck Jones trying to say to us about human nature? Far too many of us correlate our accomplishments, our resumes or CV to our sense of self worth. Some of us aren't able to accept failure and we'll chase after our idea of success with reckless abandon, failing to consider that our hunger is leading us over the edge of a cliff.
The coyote was tormented up until the moment of death by endless cycles of coming so close and falling short at the last possible moment. And just when he was ready to dust himself off and try again...
CRACK
He broke his neck flying full speed into the side of that cliff and his lifeless body fell to earth like Icarus, another victim of hubris.
Earlier I tweeted a question asking what Wile E Coyote was eating in the meantime until he actually caught the roadrunner. Someone responded on Facebook saying that maybe it was all in his head. I took that a step further...
What if it's like An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge? What if one morning Wile E. Coyote, Supergenius, went out to the mailbox to find that his Acme flying suit had arrived and he set about to catch himself a roadrunner. He spent the better part of the day climbing a mountain and then, like Icarus and Daedalus, he took to the heavens. He flew after the roadrunner up and down the desert valley before eventually being outsmarted by the roadrunner and flying headfirst into a cliff.
What if everything that happened after that was all in his mind? What if it was an experience akin to his life flashing before his eyes, except it just one fantasy after another of him still chasing that roadrunner? His subconscious couldn't accept the inevitability of death, but his confidence was so dashed that it couldn't play out to see him actually catch the bird. Instead, he just had this seemingly endless cycle of adventures, one after another, where all of his best efforts (sometimes literally) blew up in his face.
Those delusions weren't meant to be taken literally. They were manifestations of his sense of failure. After all, here was a self-proclaimed supergenius. It said so right on the business card that he handed Bugs Bunny in an old episode. Here was a man who placed his entire self worth in academia. What was Chuck Jones trying to say to us about human nature? Far too many of us correlate our accomplishments, our resumes or CV to our sense of self worth. Some of us aren't able to accept failure and we'll chase after our idea of success with reckless abandon, failing to consider that our hunger is leading us over the edge of a cliff.
The coyote was tormented up until the moment of death by endless cycles of coming so close and falling short at the last possible moment. And just when he was ready to dust himself off and try again...
CRACK
He broke his neck flying full speed into the side of that cliff and his lifeless body fell to earth like Icarus, another victim of hubris.
Put It In A Love Song
Ever so often my wife emails me song lyrics usually prefaced with "This reminded me of you." She must really like her job, because she can listen to love songs as she works (not too unlike the seven dwarfs whistling while they work). Her emails always make me feel like a schmuck, not because I usually have to listen to a rap song to keep going (Y'all gon' make me lose my mind up in here, up in here), but because I can never think of anything to send back to her. It's not for lack of trying. I listen to a lot of music, but nothing ever really seems to compare to what I have on my heart to say.
It probably sounds snooty, but I don't think anyone else is qualified to write my feelings. They're too strong, too innumerable. I'd have a better chance finding someone who's counted all the stars in the sky. Now that's not to say that some people haven't come close. I remember putting Stevie Wonder's Overjoyed in a mental placeholder back in high school. It was in a slot labeled, "This Is How I Want To Feel When I Meet The Woman I'm Gonna Marry." And when I first met my wife, I played that song over and over. "Though you don't believe that they do, they do come true, for did my dreams come true when I looked at you."
And around the time we got married, I really started playing it on repeat. People dropped out of the wedding while other people said we were too young (21 years old), or hadn't known each other long enough (3 weeks). Common's "The Light" could've been an equally good choice, "It don't take a whole day to recognize sunshine." But I was on my Stevie Wonder kick and he said, "And though the odds say improbable, what do they know? For in romance all true love needs is a chance. And maybe with a chance you will find, you too, like I, overjoyed, over-loved over you."
But that was nine years ago and my feelings have grown so much that I really don't feel like someone else can get the job done. I know what you're thinking, "Well, write it yourself." I can't sing worth a damn and my poetry sucks. And no, "It isn't the thought that counts." I've seen plenty of tone deaf ex-crackheads get up and sing a song during their testimony in church to thunderous applause that are rife with pity, because the person sounds like a goat going into an epileptic seizure. I won't do it.
Sadly, what usually ends up happening is absolutely nothing. Inaction. While I'm scouring the internet for something--anything--that I can send, too much time elapses and the moment has passed. If I'm lucky I just send back a simple "Duh, I like you too." But if I could just write the concept down and have someone else with talent write it, and then maybe get someone else to sing it...that would be perfect.
My song would talk about how she has the nicest, most unassuming personality. She's so happy and loving that it's almost a stark contrast to my personality. My friends thought she was crazy for marrying me. "He curses everyone out...everyday...just for sport. He's grumpy and pissed off all the time. He has to be in charge of everything and doesn't trust anybody. RUN! Save yourself!" What they didn't get was that she was my base in every sense of the word. She neutralized my acidic personality. She's my foundation. She's a source of refuge where I can feel comfortable being myself. I don't feel guarded all the time or like I have to assert myself. I never felt judged or inconsequential.
She made me feel what all of those saps in the romantic comedies felt. And as cliched as it sounds, she made me want to be a better person. To this day we have never had a loud raucous argument and I have never cursed her out or disparaged her in anyway. I've never respected or admired or trusted or invested myself into anyone (not even myself) the way I have her. I can't explain what causes it. I can't explain what it is about her specifically that unravels me and weaves me back together. All I know is that as egotistical or self concerned as I may have been, I willingly put her wants before my needs.
That's a very long song. I don't know who the hell could possibly write it.
I don't write this sappy kind of stuff often for two reasons. One, it's annoying to constantly hear about someone else's relationship. Two, if you found a diamond mine would you go around telling everybody where it is? I just figure that until I find someone to write that song for me, I gotta do something besides sending an email back with a smiley face in it. "Thank you, :-)"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=faD3YF0zhNg
It probably sounds snooty, but I don't think anyone else is qualified to write my feelings. They're too strong, too innumerable. I'd have a better chance finding someone who's counted all the stars in the sky. Now that's not to say that some people haven't come close. I remember putting Stevie Wonder's Overjoyed in a mental placeholder back in high school. It was in a slot labeled, "This Is How I Want To Feel When I Meet The Woman I'm Gonna Marry." And when I first met my wife, I played that song over and over. "Though you don't believe that they do, they do come true, for did my dreams come true when I looked at you."
And around the time we got married, I really started playing it on repeat. People dropped out of the wedding while other people said we were too young (21 years old), or hadn't known each other long enough (3 weeks). Common's "The Light" could've been an equally good choice, "It don't take a whole day to recognize sunshine." But I was on my Stevie Wonder kick and he said, "And though the odds say improbable, what do they know? For in romance all true love needs is a chance. And maybe with a chance you will find, you too, like I, overjoyed, over-loved over you."
But that was nine years ago and my feelings have grown so much that I really don't feel like someone else can get the job done. I know what you're thinking, "Well, write it yourself." I can't sing worth a damn and my poetry sucks. And no, "It isn't the thought that counts." I've seen plenty of tone deaf ex-crackheads get up and sing a song during their testimony in church to thunderous applause that are rife with pity, because the person sounds like a goat going into an epileptic seizure. I won't do it.
Sadly, what usually ends up happening is absolutely nothing. Inaction. While I'm scouring the internet for something--anything--that I can send, too much time elapses and the moment has passed. If I'm lucky I just send back a simple "Duh, I like you too." But if I could just write the concept down and have someone else with talent write it, and then maybe get someone else to sing it...that would be perfect.
My song would talk about how she has the nicest, most unassuming personality. She's so happy and loving that it's almost a stark contrast to my personality. My friends thought she was crazy for marrying me. "He curses everyone out...everyday...just for sport. He's grumpy and pissed off all the time. He has to be in charge of everything and doesn't trust anybody. RUN! Save yourself!" What they didn't get was that she was my base in every sense of the word. She neutralized my acidic personality. She's my foundation. She's a source of refuge where I can feel comfortable being myself. I don't feel guarded all the time or like I have to assert myself. I never felt judged or inconsequential.
She made me feel what all of those saps in the romantic comedies felt. And as cliched as it sounds, she made me want to be a better person. To this day we have never had a loud raucous argument and I have never cursed her out or disparaged her in anyway. I've never respected or admired or trusted or invested myself into anyone (not even myself) the way I have her. I can't explain what causes it. I can't explain what it is about her specifically that unravels me and weaves me back together. All I know is that as egotistical or self concerned as I may have been, I willingly put her wants before my needs.
That's a very long song. I don't know who the hell could possibly write it.
I don't write this sappy kind of stuff often for two reasons. One, it's annoying to constantly hear about someone else's relationship. Two, if you found a diamond mine would you go around telling everybody where it is? I just figure that until I find someone to write that song for me, I gotta do something besides sending an email back with a smiley face in it. "Thank you, :-)"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=faD3YF0zhNg
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Stereotype Breaker of the Day
Stereotype Breaker of the Day
As the "first" black person to integrate kayaking I understand how difficult it is to break down stereotypes. Okay, full disclosure: I've heard rumblings that perhaps I am not the Jackie Robinson of kayaking. To those infidels who doubt my power, let me awe you with my CV...
- Integrated kayaking 2012
- Integrated Ice Skating 1997
- Integrated Roller Blading 1993 or circa Mighty Ducks 2 theatrical release
- Integrated Skiing 1990
Are you amazed yet? Did I blow your mind? Good, well let me get on with my blog.
They say that real recognizes real and I just saw someone who looked familiar. Today's Stereotype-Breaking Warrior is a white lady I saw on CNN.com last night. Apparently a masked man tried to rob her store and then a hero came along with the strength to carry on and she cast her fears aside and made sure that she survived.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bSqW_C_8a54
Now she could've easily just handed him the money, but that wouldn't have been gangster. No, she decided to break into a full sprint and leap over the 7 ft wall separating her store from the one next door.
Stereotype #1
Now the video makes it look like her ups weren't exactly where they needed to be, because she ended up tumbling face down toward the ground, but I chalk that up to just pure adrenaline or even Matrix-like concentration. By going head-first, any bullets from her assailant would've hit her in the rear and I'm a firm believer in that a bullet down bottom is much better than one up top.
Her Lambeau leap was enough to get her the award, but what really got me was what happened after she hit the ground. She got right the hell back up. (Did you think I'm crumble? Did you think I'd lay down and die? Oh no, not I. I will survive.) If this were a horror movie she would would've started crawling and maybe thrown a bag of chips in his direction, but not Jackie Joyner. Man, she was on the ground for all of one second before popping back up and returning to a full sprint.
Stereotype #2
Even without this video I knew that wasn't true. Every time I went to a cross country track meet, the winner's circle was nothing but a sea of long blonde and brunette ponytails. Sidebar: You know you're in DC when someone gets stabbed during a cross country track meet. I'll save that story for another time though. I will say, however, that it was during that race when I scored my fastest time ever. I don't think they ever caught that dude.
Anyway, congratulations to today's winner. You are an inspiration to stereotype breakers everywhere!
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
I've Got A Big Ego
I went up to my old elementary school yesterday with my daughter. I don't really know why. Even though I know there's a lottery, I just wanted to go up there to get a head start. I saw one of my old teachers who introduced me to some of the new faces as "one of the most intelligent minds to ever come out of this school." I was very flattered and at the same time I felt this sense of agreement, like "Yep, I sure am."
I can't write something like that and have you believe this next statement: I'm not egotistical. I really wish I had some evidence to support that, but you're just gonna have to take my word for it. Still, yeah I was pretty damned smart as a kid. The problem was that back then I knew I was smart. I was more surprised that she said it than anything else. This was the same woman who led the safety patrols and gave us a lecture one day about something. Whatever it was, she was right. I just remember her saying, "...and if you don't like it then you can leave." I took my patrol belt off, folded it up, handed it to her and walked right out without saying a word. It was fourth grade by the way.
I remember getting answers right in class and then standing up, patting myself on the back while simultaneously taking a bow. Teachers learned quick not to say "Well if you think you know everything then come up here and teach the class" because my indignant ass would walk right up there with the book and start trying to teach. How none of my teachers ever pulled a pistol on me remains one of life's great mysteries. I was an asshole as a kid, but they really couldn't do anything to me. I did my work, I got straight A's and I never went far enough to warrant any disciplinary action. Sure, I got banned from all of my classes in 5th grade, but even with me sitting in homeroom all day for a few months, I still aced the standardized tests. And yeah, maybe I did tell a certain teacher that they were in no position to judge me considering they couldn't teach without the teacher's guide, but those were love taps compared to the bastard I could've been.
I don't know how those people put up with me, but I want to take this time to apologize to each and every one of them. I can't explain how they did it, nor can I explain what changed in me. Perhaps it had to do with going to junior high where the stakes were a little higher, home a little too far away to run and hormones shifting my focus from school to girls. All I know is that by high school I didn't really care to be a jerk anymore. I had found another cause...women and the power of estrogen can humble a man like no other.
I can't write something like that and have you believe this next statement: I'm not egotistical. I really wish I had some evidence to support that, but you're just gonna have to take my word for it. Still, yeah I was pretty damned smart as a kid. The problem was that back then I knew I was smart. I was more surprised that she said it than anything else. This was the same woman who led the safety patrols and gave us a lecture one day about something. Whatever it was, she was right. I just remember her saying, "...and if you don't like it then you can leave." I took my patrol belt off, folded it up, handed it to her and walked right out without saying a word. It was fourth grade by the way.
I remember getting answers right in class and then standing up, patting myself on the back while simultaneously taking a bow. Teachers learned quick not to say "Well if you think you know everything then come up here and teach the class" because my indignant ass would walk right up there with the book and start trying to teach. How none of my teachers ever pulled a pistol on me remains one of life's great mysteries. I was an asshole as a kid, but they really couldn't do anything to me. I did my work, I got straight A's and I never went far enough to warrant any disciplinary action. Sure, I got banned from all of my classes in 5th grade, but even with me sitting in homeroom all day for a few months, I still aced the standardized tests. And yeah, maybe I did tell a certain teacher that they were in no position to judge me considering they couldn't teach without the teacher's guide, but those were love taps compared to the bastard I could've been.
I don't know how those people put up with me, but I want to take this time to apologize to each and every one of them. I can't explain how they did it, nor can I explain what changed in me. Perhaps it had to do with going to junior high where the stakes were a little higher, home a little too far away to run and hormones shifting my focus from school to girls. All I know is that by high school I didn't really care to be a jerk anymore. I had found another cause...women and the power of estrogen can humble a man like no other.
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