Woo Woo Woo

I meant to post this on Christmas, but things happen. Bryant of The Official Vanache Blog sent this text out on Christmas. He was excited for me to read it since it's a "poem" hehe:

Some of you I call my family, Others I call my friends, then theres the rest of
you I never call cuz we text to no end. No matter the case, you guys still hit
the spot, Like warm butter on corn fresh out the pot. I wish you guys and your
families the best, christmas, hanakah, what ever, let's make a mess. And if
the recession subtracted a few gifts under your tree, Then I'm adding some yule
time love that will never leave.

So Precious,
B

Merry Christmas

The title pretty much says it all. Hope everyone enjoys their day. If you could, make a point to say CHRISTmas- not Xmas. Let's not X out the man who today is centered around... or should be centered around.

Here's an inspirational message- The Window:
A young couple moves into a new neighborhood. The next morning while they are eating breakfast, the young woman sees her neighbor hanging the wash outside.

"The laundry is not very clean," she said, "She doesn't know how to wash correctly. Perhaps she needs better laundry soap." Her husband looked on but remained silent. Everytime her neigbor would hand her wash to dry, the young woman would make the same comments.

About one month later, the woman was surprised to see a nice clean wash on the line and said to her husband: "Look! She has learned how to wash correctly. I wonder who taught her this."

The husband said, "I got up early this morning and cleaned our windows."

And so it is with life: What we see when watching others depends on the purity of the window through which we look.

Before we give any critcism, it might be a good idea to check our state of mind and ask ourselves if we are ready to see the good rather than to be looking for something in the person that we are about to judge.

I see you today-
Much clearer than I did yesteray,
B

-Got this message in an email. I was going to write a post about a girl I saw in the club last week with no underwear on and her skirt above her waist, giving head on stage in the club... but now, I opt out. I should just pray for her, huh?

O yea, for the record, this song is my jam. Yes, my jam.

I'd Rather Go Blind

I've heard a lot of negative feedback in regards to Cadillac Records, specifically about the role Beyonce played. Whatever the case, the way she records songs with tears in her eyes when performing always get to me. I swear it does.

I don't know how long you've been with me, but remember the hassle I went through trying to post her singing Listen in Dreamgirls? If you don't care to catch Cadillac Records, just peep these two performances. If you're pressed for time or impatient, just view the last one.

Hit You In the Heart, Don't It?
B

p.s. I felt the first one, but when listening to the second one-when she says "I'd rather go blind than to see you walk away," it really got to me. I was sitting there like-love is a powerful mess. That feeling is all too real.

O yeah, Happy Christmas Eve!

Booty Calls Beware

It's Legit Though, Aint It?
B

God Bless America

There's a NigGOD,
B

p.s.

4yr. Old Philosophy

The little misses you see on the right would be my baby sister. She's not quite a "baby", and she's definitely mature ::cough::GROWN::cough:: for a 4 yr. old, but I'm not tripping. Since coming home on break, she has told me that:

"She loves me more than everybody."

"She's happy I'm home, but she's still happy when I'm not home." (I knew what she meant, the wording made me laugh.)

And as we speak, she's sitting on my back in the computer chair unwrapping an icecream sandwhich she didn't get permission to eat.

Not to mention, over breakfast she shared her philosophy for forgiveness with me. In short, when TC (her male best friend since they were being rocked in cradles) makes her mad they don't talk to each other, but whenever they are about to leave each others sight (her example was to go play outside during class or getting picked up from daycare to go home)-they forgive each other.

Why can't forgiveness (with men) always be that simple?

Happy to be Home :)
B

Until I Went Comatose

I have reached the conclusion that "Temple Tech Syndrome (TTS)" is real. [Refer to post below]

In short, TTS is an illness describing the drastic decrease in your quality of life during finals on Temple's campus, and let me tell you- it isn't pretty. Nonetheless, you keep on pushing.

So, I'm bringing my narrow behind to the tech in preparation for my last exam tomorrow, and I run into someone from the class I was about to study for.

However, she saw me from a distance and didn't turn around to greet me. Instead, she just yelled my name in the opposite direction. I can't explain why it was weird, but it was just out of place. She just should have turned around.

Anywho, she proceeds to explain how she hasn't slept in two days, was on a roll studying for our Philosophy class, took some energy thing (I can't think of the name) to keep her up, and then topped it off with Adderall.

Now, her whole body feels like Jell-O and she's been stuck in her chair for the last 45 minutes incapable of moving her limbs, or anything else for that matter. Inconvenience much? I never even heard of Adderall until I came to college. Is it really that serious?

...all in the name of finals.

God's Got to Have A Great Sense of Humor,
B

Fuck You Temple Towers

I have yet to go to sleep. It's 7 in the morning. And I am actually not complaining. However, the alarm in my dorm goes off. Now, I've been up since yesterday, so it's no problem with me. It's an inconvenience, but so what. I pick up my camera and start snapping pictures of my disheveled roommates trying to throw on clothes, in attempts to face the weather.

Cool, so we're outside. One of my roomies has a blanket. We're snuggly. I'm taking pictures. We've been outside for about 5minutes, and one of the RA's (resident assistants who control individual floors, for the unknowing) decides we aren't standing far enough from the building.

Strike one: If we weren't far enough, we all would have burnt to crisp five minutes ago. So, fuck you Mr. Ineffecient RA.

Than, another RA comes yelling and literally stands beside me and my roomates waiting for all of us to back up, but says nothing to the people beside us. This wasn't quite strike two, it's typical "white privilege". We're minorities (Black, Haitian, Asian, and Indian to be specific).

Then, they say we can all go in, but before they finish their statement everyone bum rushes the door. Who makes it to the door first? Me. What do they tell me? Turn back around, walk to the top of the line and wait. Why the fuck am I waiting in line to get back in my building? It's 7 in the morning, we're in college, it's the week of finals, there are hundreds of kids standing outside, and did I mention it's finals week at 7 in the morning?

Fuck you. That's a ridiculous request. And when I ask the head person why we all have to wait in line and what purpose that will serve (because logically, the way the people in front-the ones who will enter the building first are standing-has nothing to do with the way the back of the line wraps itself around the block). You know what he tells me? Because I said so.

Strike mothafuckin' two: Whatchu' mean because you said so? I am not five. You are not my parent. That is not a valid response. Come again.

THEN my roomie lost her blanket in all the madness. The guy who told me "because he said so"-sees it, drags it across the (wet, from rain) street, and throws it in the bushes near the trashcan.

STRIKE 3 BITCHES!

Now. Seriously. Was that necessary? No. So, Mr. Bald White Man-it is people like you that abuse the privilege of the wee bit of power you are given. People like you need kids to boss around.

The result? He eventually let us in, those are minutes in our lives that no one can get back, and he didn't change anything but everyone's level of aggravation. And the sad thing is, I applied to be an RA next year. Mark my words. I will be the difference.

In closing-

FUCK YOU TEMPLE TOWERS,
B

And the funny part is, I was actually planning on writing a post called "Temple Tech Syndrome" in regards to people running around in the Tech during finals looking like they're raised from the dead, but it seemed so minuscule after this mornings events. I'll sum it up for you though: I wonder if finals has the same affect on other campuses as it does with the Temple community. Or is it just a "hoot hoot" thing? Ugh... this is my life.

Why Try to Fit In?

So, a little over a month ago one of my Harlem boys put me on Budden's new mixtapes. Yes, a Harlem boy I know goes hard for Joey. Funny thing is, I sideswipe Budden cause he spent too much time on his Mood Muzik mixtapes dissin' Jay. And YALL KNOW I'M NOT HAVIN' IT!

Nonetheless, the lyrics to "Just to be Different" have been playing through my head the past couple of days, and I feel like a line or two in this song might turn into my next tattoo. Hmm...

A Standout,
B

FYI

I refreshed my blog roll. If their last post read "1 month ago" (or more), they have been removed. Meaning: don't waste your time trying to find them. Also meaning, Lauren-you need to write something asap. Oh, and I realize that Lovo was not deleted, but he is a wonderful writer/photographer and whenever he does decide to post something again, I'd like my blog to be a reflection of such.

Random lateness:
Why didn't anyone tell me about Alicia Keys "Like You'll Never See Me Again" video? I saw that sometime last week and was way impressed. You couldn't tell me I wasn't in the movie theater, and I was surely about to let a tear fall. So, I'm posting it. And if you've seen it already, watch it again. For me. Please.


Cinematic,
B

“For all we know,
We may never meet again.
Before you go, make this moment sweet again.
We won’t say goodnight until the last minute.
I’ll hold out my hand and my heart will be in it.

For all we know this may only be a dream.
We come and we go like the ripples of a stream.
So love me, love me tonight. Tomorrow was made for some.
Tomorrow may never come,
For all we know.”

Rebecca McFadden, Poet

Moment of Clarity

Read this on The Good, The Bad, and the Semi-Literate:

I am making the same mistakes with the same people,
but rather than expecting different results
I have no expectations and
am enjoying the mistakes a WHOLE LOT MORE.

I can't say that it's quite the same people, but my mistakes seem to be repetitive.I'm not learning a thing. Curse me. Things will change though, I hope. But think about it, what if the changing in expectations shows growth in the same manner changing the circumstance would?

Whatever the case, I am insisting in a major way that ya'll check her blog out. The boldness/outrageous'ness of her blogs has me thinking of changing up my writing style. Moreso, the tone I take on. I'm really considering writing an open letter to my ex, in the same manner that she did- and going in, in the same manner that she did.

Damn anyone who knows me, or knows him. You can just stop reading... long as you recommend my blog to someone else (who doesn't know me personally, preferably-and would be more entertained than offended).

Refreshed,
B

You know what? For now-I'll just live vicariously through her and post what she put on another one of her posts. Funny thing is, when I say ex-I'm usually referring to an arrangement of people that go all the way back to my junior year of high school. Nonetheless, if they did me wrong-they all embody one person or should I say animal? Damn dogs. If this irks your nerves in the slightest and you're one of my ex's- I probably was thinking of you when posting this. You and him, and the one before him (not including my Newyorican). Let me upgrade you:

I’ve stopped allowing my Ex to pretend that we are friends, as it served no purpose but to allow him to feel better about the situation . When I need him, he is never around. When I want him, he is never around. I got high friend standards and he ain’t meetin em. So why call it friendship when he only serves as a second tier acquaintance. I honestly don’t think he knows how to truly be someone’s friend.

I gotta stop trickin off wit these young and nubile hoe ass dudes. They fun and shit but you can’t keep em. Plus, I think I wanna have some babies one day and these non-committal, “It’s all about me” kinda guys aren’t gonna cut it.

*This writing style feels more like my sisters than something I could make my own, but-I like it.

George Bush Gets Attacked

I don't know how late I am with this clip, but if George Bush doesn't like black people- coloreds clearly don't care too much for him either. It's going on 7 in the morning, I've been up since 10:45am, I don't think I'll be sleeping, I have a presentation for finals at 11:30, and work directly after.

This helped ease the load.
Just skip to 8 seconds if you're that impatient.

Thanks Earl,
B

p.s. Realize, dude who threw the shoe had killer aim. If Bushy wouldn't have ducked, that would've been dead in his face.

NEW POEM PERFORMANCE!

So, I was looking at someone's blog, and they have me in their blog roll. Underneath my blog title, it said that the last post I did was a week ago. Ugh! I never want to be one of "those bloggers". Not to mention, Lauren tells me that she checks my blog daily and is very disappointed when it's the same post from days ago. So, sorry mama.

Anywho, I performed at the Alpha Ball last week. For those not attending Temple Univ., the ball was thrown by the greek fraternity (Alpha's). They had asked me to perform something regarding the Egyptian life, kemet, and things of that nature. Being that (sadly) I didn't know much about the Egytian life-this performance had me in a jam. Nonetheless, two days before show time- I was inspired, did some research, and this was the result.

Random fact to explain a part of the poem, their organization was founded in 1906.
Ok, enjoy!

I Still Got It
(I Hope),
B

p.s. Much love to Judibeth- the lovely lady dancing behind me.

There's something bout' this girl.

So, I have this new found crush on Katy Perry.
Besides the fact that she's kind of stunning,
and "I Kissed a Girl" was classic.

She's also gangsta:Have you heard the first lines to her latest song?

"You change your mind-
like a girl changes clothes.
And you PMS like a bitch-
I would know."

Hot n' Cold,
B

Kids Say the Darndest Things, pt. 2

Stumbled upon some more Trigon commercials.

These Kids Have Charisma,
B

New Blog

So... mi hermana started a blog.
I find it a tad hilarious.

Check it out:
HANGING ON BY A STRING OF CHEESE
The blog title is actually an inside joke of ours.

You'll Enjoy It. Promise,
B

Kids Say the Darndest Things

I think Trigon is onto something with these commercials.

Cracking Up,
B

I'm Thankful for All Kinds of Birds

Even you.

Spent Turkey day in VA with my grandma and one of my big brothers. Nope, wasn't in Carolina with the larger side of the fam. But hey, as Jigga said, "When I left you for Virginia- it didn't offend ya, cause you knew I only stepped out to get dinner." It was the first time I actually helped prepare the meal. Whoo! That's all I can say.

I now have a greater appreciation for the cooks. All we made was turkey, baked macaroni, mashed potatoes with gravy, brocoli-cheese and rice casserole, cranberry sauce, rolls and 7 layer dip which is small compared to other peoples' Thanksgiving dinners. Nonetheless, that thing took all day and my grandma woke me up at 8a.m. Mind you, I got in around 4 this morning. It's all good though. Fought with my brother over our favorite Pepperidge Farm cookies (just like the ol' days), now I'm bout to clean this kitchen and go out with the bestie.

Hope you had a delightful day.

Gobble-Gobble,
B

Case of the Fake People

“I'm not upset that you lied to me, I'm upset that from now on I can't believe you.”

-Friedrich Nietzsche

So, a situation that I won't describe in detail occurred a few days ago. As a result, my friend spent part of tonight ranting about how conniving girls are and why you must keep your circle to a minimum.

Personally, if I wanted to be in my feelings about the situation-I could see how it pertained to me. But truthfully, I'm kind of indifferent to it all. Not because girls will be girls, but I'm just not hurt by the fact that trust was broken and I don't think I'm DIRECTLY affected. To say that would imply that we had something built on trust in the first place, and I don't think we really rocked that close. There was a time where I might have been made to believe so, but that time was short lived. Not to mention, other people involved no longer get much of a reaction out of me.

What does bother me? As I said, not that trust was broken, but the fact that I'm starting to believe that I can't extend it. My friends mom said that there are two things you will definitely leave college with: secrets and debt. Now, debt is for certain, but I haven't done a thing in college that I wouldn't put in a poem and perform on stage. With that being said, it's not that I'm too proud to be ashamed of my shortcomings- but I've accepted them, acknowledged them for what they were, and realized that someone else might benefit from my testimony. That's why I splurge in poems, because I know someone out there can identify, and they may not hear it anywhere else.

However, it is my testimony to give. Not someone elses to divulge, and their doing so disturbs me. I just feel like the longer I live, the more I am learning to not trust people. And maybe I'm naive, but I don't want to have to think this way. I want people to say something and mean it. Do something and stand by it. Prove themselves consistent. Faithful. Loyal.

That may be a stretch, because I feel like my loyalty only lies within few (who have proven themselves worthy), but I like to believe that I am a woman of my word and I don't lead people to believe things about me or the relationships I am involved in that is otherwise. So, I don't understand why other people find the need to, unless their ulterior motive lies in getting close to people just so they can know their personal business for their benefit.

And if that's the case-when it comes to me, all you have to do is ask. I'm living life and making mistakes the same as everyone else. It's all good. You don't have to put on a facade. If you're that interested in my doings as they relate to you (if they even relate to you), just say so. I'd actually find your bluntness commendable. Closed mouths don't get fed, and we all got to eat. I understand.

Maybe this blog is just another rant, but it had to be released some way.

Anything built on a lie is bound to fail,

















B

Dorm Life is Feeling Hotel'ish

I woke up at 6:45 in the a.m. (as a result of going to sleep HELLA early the previous night). Since I had more than a few hours of sleep, heck-more sleep than I usually ever get-I decided to bury my nose in a book I had fallen asleep reading the previous night. No, I'm not reading Nigger. I had finished that about 2 weeks ago, but hadn't started reading anything else-so there was no picture update. I definitely need to do a post about that book though, and I recommend it to EVERYONE. I'll probably type the excerpt on the back of the book and just give ya'll other lil' tidbits-its a MUST read.

Anywho, this morning I finished reading The Interruption of Everything by Terry McMillan. The ending felt a little iffy to me because I had wanted a different outcome for the main character, but it was a good real overall. In short, it was about a woman who lived her life for her kids/husband, and realized this had to change if she wanted to be happy. A lot of other things occurred beyond that, but you'd have to read the book. Duh.

Moving forward, it's around 9a.m. now, and I decided I wanted some cereal (I have not had any since school started), so I opt to go to our vending machine downstairs. Now backtrack a bit. I don't know why this thought seemed so awkward initially, but it was weird to think that I actually hadn't had any cereal since September. We all know breakfast is important (granted, I seldom eat it), but geesh-cereal is pretty frickin' basic. Yet, I haven't had it since I've been home.

So... on the walk to the vending machine, it occurs to me that I'm walking down to the main floor in pajamas (a long shirt, black leggings, and the typical bunny slippers-but mine are brown instead of pink and white) to pay $1.50 for 12oz. of milk. Then I get to thinking how much a rip off our dorm is, because they know college students run out of the simple mess or barely keep it in stock at all, so of course- they have it downstairs in a small amount, for the maximum price.

Back to what I was wearing while taking this walk-pajamas. Granted, our dorm has an 'apartment' feel to it. I still feel comfortable walking outside in pajamas and going down stairs to the main lobby. Then there are security guards at the front desk, and they feel a lot like the people who greet you when you walk into a hotel and buy a room. I don't know, not to mention the long hall ways, various doors, and bare essentials provided in each room. It's comparable to the likes of a cheap/basic hotel... the word doesn't seem fitting.

Of course, our kitchen has an oven, stove, fridge and cabinets. Our living room has the basic (but not comfortable) two couches and a table-along side the dining area (or extra space) that has a table and four chairs, and our rooms have a bed, a desk, and a drawer for clothes. I don't know. It just feels like I'm staying in a hotel for a lot longer than a person normally would. I don't think I'm explaining this well. The point? I believe the feel of my living arrangements is what's contributing to my homesickness.

Did I mention I've been homesick? Last year, I wasn't the least bit pressed to leave Philly. Now, I just want to be at home. The apartment's all set up like a real place, but the "hominess" of it is missing. The absence of home cooked meals wasn't as noticeable when I didn't have a full kitchen that barely gets used yet still carries bugs. Ugh Philadelphia! I have 5 roommates, and though I'm close with 2 of them- they aren't quite family. You know how it feels to walk into your house filled with loved ones. Well, maybe you don't. Should that be the case, let me be the first to tell you-it's wonderful.

I could have cut this blog short by just saying I'm homesick, huh?

I'm Homesick,
B

p.s. I forgot to mention the good side of this morning- I walked to the vending machines twice because the machine didn't accept my student ID which has diamond dollars (money) on it. I forgot this, because the other machines downstairs do. Anywho, I go back upstairs to get change, come downstairs, put in 50 cents, yet the machine read $1.50 So now I'm looking around trying to see if someone close by already put a dollar in and walked off or something. No one appears, and I'm left to thank the milk angels, because after all that rut- I only payed 50cents.

My Newest Poem: Easy

Though I've never had another man love me like this
Clearly, I'm just as ungrateful as the brother I was raised around
Cause I can't appreciate anything that was gained without a struggle
And here you are- just oozing with affection
Making love seem easy

I've been used for the fulfillment of physical desires
But you come wanting a different type of intimacy
And I never knew a love that didn't have me down on both knees
Either praising their manhood or praying to God for inner-peace
Then there's you
Asking me to stand
So you can worship the ground I walk on
You sing my praises too easily

Silly me and what I'm used to
Being mistreated has become my muse
Therefore, the consistency in you is unsettling
Four years later and no cause to doubt your dedication
I'm done waiting for the strength in your foundation to break
I'm just finding it hard to appreciate
Because you made things too easy

Maybe if you had tripped me up along the way
Left me out to dry when I draped myself in lies
Let me hurt for just a little
Maybe then I could love you like you want me to
Never been the one feeling like I had something to prove
Damn you and your nobility
You make being loyal seem easy

And I know in the song that reminds you of me
They say devotedness will always prevail
But I should be the first to warn you
Listening to love songs never got me anywhere
And an everlasting commitment doesn't always prove itself faithful
Disappointment comes too easy

Though you've never let me down
I'm too quick to fly away
I thought you would have given in by now
Turned your back by now
You should just go now
Loving me doesn't come easy

A Mess,
B

Funny Feelings

Things have been uber weird lately.
Unnecessarily so.
And the worse thing is-
I don't know how I feel about any of it.
I need to write a poem... or 2, or 3.

Fuck You For Flinching,
B

I just Maybe.. Might've A Little Bit

Got missing.

Na, really- I feel like I haven't left ya'll anything to think about in days. As if I actually stimulate you guys. I took the blog count down. Did you notice? Truthfully, I was trying to put this other one up, it wasn't showing how I wanted it to, and I'm too lazy to put a different one. In conclusion, I've ditched blog counts all together. We were on a roll though, weren't we?

Anywho. Since we last spoke, I have yet to inform you on very big moves that I'm making.

I HAD MY FIRST SHOW!

Last Friday I was the feature poet for Art Institutes open mic (AI of Philadelphia) The show went very well if I may say so myself. I performed 4 pieces, the crowd rocked with me for a little bit, and I proceeded to make a smooth exit before the entire show crashed and burned. Na, really though. I did so well that someone from the show asked me to host some talent show (or something of the sort, I'm not sure I understand just yet) that they're having in December.

Granted, I've never hosted a show before, and I don't want their show to be my guinea pig. I also will never have experience until I actually do it, so- why not? Iono, just a thought.

I have more to say, but I also have class.

Til' Later,
B

A Holiday Message from the Obama's

I've Been Barack Crazy Lately, Huh?
B

Doesn't This Just Look Right?

Indeed,
B

Chop You, Screw You Outta Ya Spine

So... I'm pretty much in love with this song right now. Get on it:

That'll Be 60 Bucks,
B

If I'm Dreaming, Let Me Sleep

(*sidenote: If music is being played when you visit, it will be located at the bottom of the page from now on-in the event that you'd like to turn it off.)

The fact that our new president-elect is Barack Obama still hasn't sunk in, and everything just feels surreal. If this comes off like a rant, so be it. There's so much to be said and I'm not even sure where to begin- but the polls feel like a good place to start. Consider this a recap of yesterday's GLORIOUS events.

Let me start by saying that I was all too happy to see the button beside Obama's name light up after choosing the democratic candidates. I was all too happy to see Obama's name on the ballot in the first place. Initially, I felt like pressing the "VOTE" button was not enough... it felt as if there was something else that should have been done, but I was ecstatic about doing it regardless. Want proof?

There you have it. Taking that picture may have been very much illegal, but hey-you only live once. So I walk out the booth, and I'm trying my hardest not to burst out in song since I'm already doing a terrible job at not smiling so hard. Not to sound corny, but I felt like I was floating. I just begin to text a bunch of people saying how I had changed the world.

Granted, I know all elections aren't as controversial as the one we had, I don't understand how people could be so apathetic about their right to vote when it gives them so much power. And hey, maybe I'm naive, and this election has left our generation with a false sense of hope because things went in the way of the people (which they would have us to believe is not what normally happens).

Anywho, I'll get to that later. Back to the story: I go home and get in bed with the intention of waking up around 8 to do some studying for my Philosophy midterm. Instead, I end up crashing until 10:30ish (mind you, I got done voting around 6). Once I'm finally up, I turn the TV to CNN, and I see that Obama has like 230+ electoral votes, and from what I can tell things aren't moving so fast. In short, I decided that it was going to be a long night, and I had already made up my mind that I would be awake when/if he hit the necessary 270 electoral votes.

So, I'm talking with my roommates in another room, and I hear someone screaming outside. The first thought that comes to my mind: The man hasn't even won yet and it feels like the night of the World Series all over again. Little did I know, he had been declared winner and I would be joining that crowd outside very soon.

The screams begin to build up, and I decided to come check the TV in the living room while my roommate tried to pull up the results online... and just like that, we get the news- HE WON! I don't know how long me and another roommate were just standing there in awe, but it took a second to really hit me. Once I finally realized that Barack Obama was our 44th president-elect I just begin running around aimlessly.

The aimlessness left me with too much adrenaline, and I decided to go outside-and boy, did things pick up from there. I'm outside with my roommate and we're just walking the campus, screaming, with no destination in mind. Where do we end up? We walked the entire campus to end up back on our street standing at the intersection crossing the main road in North Philly (Broad Street).

If you aren't a Temple student, just imagine the main road leading downtown in whatever city you reside. So, I'm hugging people, crying, screaming, chanting, and hugging some more people- and then everyone starts chanting at each other from opposite sides of the street "O-BAM-A! O-BAM-A!" Before you know it, we are all out on Broad St. just jumping around, a firecracker lights the sky, and everyone's walking down to City Hall.

Now, I've already acknowledged that a Temple student may not be reading this, so you may not know that walking to City Hall aint no walk in the park... especially when it's cold outside and semi-rainy/slippery. Did I mention we're in North Philadelphia? The hood of hoods. Nonetheless, most people would be surprised to see how civil the group was. And when I say "the group", let me emphasize that the stretch of people walking to City Hall expanded for blocks. Here's a SMALL glimpse of it once we got close to our destination (compliments of the Palm Centro I was complaining about a few months back):


City Hall would be that big building ahead of us. See the right side of the road? We shut it down! What's even more crazy about this is that the police made sure we were safe. Yes, they protected us. Don't get it twisted, there were folks riding on top of cars and hanging out windows, and I could tell some of the cops were just dying to hit them upside the head with a baton- but I don't think it would have been a good night for police brutality or a good move on the cops end. To put it plainly, they were outnumbered and my generation was running on pure adrenaline.

Anywho, we get to City Hall and we all crowd around this statue:

Take note of that horse. See it? Good. So I'm standing around it with the rest of the people, and I've decided that this just isn't cutting it. I have to have something to tell my grandkids. Sure, I walked to City Hall, but they don't know how the walk went. They didn't run beside the girl who lost one of her flip-flops and decided she was going to City Hall anyway. They didn't high five every person they passed- friend or stranger, alike. They didn't see the guy praise dancing in the middle of the street, thanking God.

That wouldn't be enough for them. So, I've decided that I'm getting on this statue. Now, I'm no chump... just 1/4th an inch shy of 5'8'' (and I would be 5'9'' if I had my way, but that stories for another time). I get on the first platform of the statue with no problem... just hoisted myself up and shimmied a bit. See?
But, that 2nd platform-the one where the actual horse was standing, the one I just HAD to get to-that would take some work. Let me remind you that this thing is wet, and I realize that tonight wouldn't be a good night to die. Meaning, I'm not climbing this thing on my strength alone, cause as sure as the sky is blue-I will slip. So, my friend tells me to grab his hand and he will pull me up.

Initially, I was more than a little bit hesitant because he was asking me to trust him with my life in a major way. Daddy wouldn't appreciate a call saying I busted my head open trying to climb a statue in the middle of down town. Trust, he wouldn't give the slightest damn who got elected if he heard I was climbing statues in the first place-let alone, busted my head in a failed attempt to do so. No, my dad wouldn't care a bit, but it all worked out in the end. God bless my friend and his strength, hehe.

So, there I sat. On top of the statue. Looking down at the people just cheering for a good cause. Rejoicing in union, for the right reasons. What song popped in my head? If I Ruled the World by Nas ft. Lauryn Hill. I've been inspired to write a poem by a song before, but man if I could write a poem explaining how the world would be if under my rule-the scene would be depicted like the one I was experiencing at that very moment.

Anywho, eventually I got down (though I said I was staying up there for the next 4years), and we walk further into City Hall. I run into people from the University of Pennsylvania which is on the other side of Philadelphia, and now everyone's bugging out because we realize that we all got this grand idea to head to City Hall. So, we celebrated some more. People were outside banging pots and pans, dancing as if speakers were actually bumpin'.

Then a line resembling the one you make when doing the bunny hop begins, and it's heading back to campus. After running through cars, slapping hands, banging on bus windows, riding on cars, and more chanting-we get back to campus... but here's the thing- we kept going. That's right. We walked right past Temple's campus and now we're heading the opposite direction YET AGAIN. A few blocks and serious pains soaring through my Nike Shox later, I've decided that this is over for me. I don't even know what's in this direction (besides the hood), and I've already made it without being beat by the cops-I'm not trying to risk it with the real thugs of Philadelphia.

Just joking. Truthfully, I had an 8:40 class back in Center City (the place we walked to) and of course, we were supposed to hand in a paper that (coming) day-that I had yet to do. So, I take my butt home, and decide that I will never forget this night, and here I sit today-sharing it with you. In closing, if you actually took the time to read all of this, I only ask that you do me one more favor. Comment on this post by answering this question: where were you when our 44th president, a black/mixed man, was elected? What story will you share with your grandkids about the night Barack Obama was chosen to be America's next president?

Yes We Did!
B

Never in my Lifetime Have I Came Across...

A man who impacted so many people in such a positive way. Clearly, (smart) Americans aren't the only ones who celebrated the election of Barack Obama. Here are pictures taken from all over the world at the moment his election was declared, and if these aren't enough proof- read the first comment made on the post directly above this one.

Take a look:

Obama's step grandmother, Sarah (middle) in Kengolo, Kenya

At Obama's former school in Jakartar, Indonesia

Shanghai, China

Athens, Greece

Jerusalem, Israel

Sydney, Australia

Japan

India

Hopeful,
B

Her shirt says 'Vote For My Better Tomorrow'

If That's Not Enough Reason-I Don't Know What Is,
B

Praying with a Purpose

I was informed through email that on November 3rd between noon and 1pm, a world wide fast and prayer will be occurring in preparation for/anticipation of our future President, Barack Obama. The request is that you give up one meal on this day, and instead-pray for these things:

1. Pray for the Hand of God to move in a mighty way over this election.
2. Pray that this election will be handled in a fair and honest manner and in a way that pleases God
3. Pray for the protection of Obama and his family.

I picked that picture because I feel like it foreshadows what's to come. Just think, that may very well be the face of America sometime soon. A black face. A black family. I don't think a day of prayer and fasting is much to ask for considering the next 4yrs of your life (maybe even 8... wishful thinking*) will be affected by this event.

You Can Count Me In,
B

I Knew We Could Do It

GREAT JOB PHILLIES!

No One on the Field Has Swagger Like Us,
B

Corny, I know-but I'm alright with that :)

Where Must One Go To Find It?

Time is real.
We can't rewind it.
Outta everybody I met-
Who told the truth?
Time did.

... see the truth in the thighs of a stripper,
the eyes of my nigga-
If it's only one, then why should it differ?
So constantly I seek it.
Wondering why I gotta drank a 6 pack to speak it.

Took a picture of the truth and tried to develop it.
Had proof-
it was only recognized by the intelligent.
(Common)

How You Know Holla Aint Short for Hallelujah?
B

World Series, Anyone?

...so the sudden Philly fan in me may have a bit to do with my location compliments of the college I attend- but it is what it is.

LET'S GO PHILLIES!

You Should See All the People Here Acting Outlandish,
B

You Should Claim It

I had a conversation last weekend with a few ladies regarding this theory:

"The best way to get over one man is to get under another one."

That wasn't the exact line for the topic, but the discussion centered around going from one relationship to another- without breaks in between- and before giving yourself a chance to heal from the damage done in your prior relationship.

Of course this lead to a poem idea (which is in the works now, but has yet to be completed-so you won't be able to read it just yet). In short, whether it be a female or male in the "drivers seat"- you should not move on to one person and offer the possibility of love or dim your chances for love if you have not put the proper amount of time between that relationship and your last one.

Everyones heard that before though. What's most important is that you should have reclaimed your heart. Basically, if you're going from one person to another- four people later- your hearts all thrown around and broken up. Broken in the sense that you've lent it to various people over an extended (or maybe not extended) period of time and never took the time to get past whatever situation you had with them and be able to call your heart your own again- so now various people have ownership over different pieces of your feelings.

Those people shouldn't have the power to affect you the way they used to emotionally, and if they do- your heart is not your own. With that being said (and if you feel that this applies to you... and I'll be honest-it's very much applicable to me), maybe you should take the time to reclaim your heart.

No One Can Love You Like You,
B

Way to Rep

My boy back homes tat:For the blind (i.e. my big sister):
It says "Don't Bite The Hands That Feed You"
and a picture of 2 hands making the symbol for Virginia.

Lovin' It,
B

Untitled Poem 5

Belongings do help you to recognize yourself
And you can try to deny the fact
But I'm wondering what possessions I'd carry if all I could bring along had to fit in my backpack

If the concept of time was lost and the location had yet to be determined
What few items would I deem worthy of carrying over into my new life-hopefully assuming that there'd be something else in store

Would my favorite jeans still hold favor?
Cause truthfully-the holes are fashionable, but I don't know what good they'd do come winter time
And everyone knows I love pork chops, but I don't know how 1 could be split 9 ways come dinner time
I have 8 siblings

And though I'm not the oldest
I know that I'd have to make sure we all eat
If it was them or me
And going hungry equated to death
Whose survival would seem most important?
And who'd be sacrificed to ensure the safety of the rest?

See I'm still thinking of us as one unit
But what if I was forced to be my only concern?

My youngest sibling is 4
The undisputed love of my life
All she knows is pet pit bulls
Sloppy kisses
And loving Brandi thiiiiiis much
So I can't imagine her being put in harms way
Having no choice but to release her to people I knew only intended to kill her

Would I give my life as well?

I'd like to think that I would
But survival impedes selfishness not selflessness
Philly aint the only place that's bleeding
And ironically
The affects of war didn't really hit home until I started reading
I'm not depending on the TV

They failed to mention that before Iraq
There was Bosnia, Rwanda and Iran
If ya'll think the weapons of mass destruction we still can't find were a petty excuse for fighting
Imagine people dying
Cause their ethnic origin didn't fall under the leader of their countries preference
If their religious beliefs were deemed inappropriate
And torn from the history books they read to their children

In another country I could've been killed because I was black and/or Christian
And since I wouldn't be allowed to praise God
I'd thank my lucky stars that I'm still living
That I wasn't raped and I'm impregnated by a drunken soldier
Then faced with the decision
Of carrying and keeping a child my entire country would consider a spawn of Satan

Granted, I'm pro-God and pro-choice
Hypocritical maybe, but at least I'm offered the option of contradiction
In a land where we can abort babies versus killing them for a living
Though we both know it's all the same

For most of us here, death hasn't occurred at our doorstep while the smell of burnt flesh is wafting past our nose
At the same time the blood of someone else was embedded in our clothes
Cause the shirt was on the back of one of the bodies being burnt
And to the killers-burning the shirt was the only thing that seemed absurd

I'm trying to decide what would be worse
Biting my tongue as the murderers pass
Or burying the memories as a method of survival
When my silence only protects my oppressors

These people deserve justice
But I'm no savior
I can't save them
And this is where hopelessness sets in
They have no power to change their situation
And I'm in no place to help them

This Can't Be Life,
B

Playing My Position

"I'm supposed to be the soldier
who never blows his composure.
Even though I hold the weight of the whole world
on my shoulders.
I am never supposed to show it.
My crew isn't supposed to know it...

I need to be the leader.
My crew looks for me to guide them.
If some shit ever just pops off,
I'm supposed to be there beside em'."

Someone Take Me To Charlotte,
B

Class is In Session Muthafuckas, pt.2

"Slacked for a second,
but I'm back-no question.
Like I walk with a cane,
aint no half steppin"

Ok. Ok. I said that quote to say this- I know I've been meaning to post this for like 2 weeks, but better late than never, right? This will be written and broken down the same way I wrote part 1. This class is amazing [for those who won't look back at the first post- this post is about the things I learn in my Hip-Hop class]. Read on:

Didya know?
Initially, marijuana was used in Mexico for medicinal reasons (most people know that) and to help increase the grade of paper being made (for newspapers). William Hearst produced papers, and marijuana was cutting into his profits. Because of this, he used his influence to see to it that marijuana became illegal. As a result, this law is considered 'Malum in Se' or 'Malum Prohibitum'. This means that the product is bad in itself because it is said to be bad, not because there is a logical reason or because it lacks benefit to the people. Furthermore, alcohol and tobacco are legal but they aren't the least bit beneficial. Height of American hypocrisy, maybe?'

The fun facts continue.

Missionary position. Most people know that the name came from the church, but what was its' exact origin? When Christian missionaries went overseas, they witnessed people having sex in various positions. They didn't believe sex was a recreational act. It was only intended for procreation. Therefore, all that was necessary was laying on top of a woman and impregnating her. Hence, the name.

Ok-almost done.
Let me tell ya'll a story.

The professor for this class has some Rastafarian friends, and they had decided that they would all go smoke weed by the Liberty Bell to protest weed being illegal. Of course, the head of the group, a Rastafarian priest, was wearing a shirt that said 'Fuck the Police'. While out there, the police come over to them because they had heard the event would take place. Some of the Rastafarian's chewed and swallowed the weed to get rid of the 'evidence'. The police decided that they were going to press charges for obtaining an illegal substance, destruction of evidence, and verbal assault.

Here's how it played out: Our professor (whose also a lawyer) argued that the shirt saying 'Fuck the Police' was not an assault because fuck is only considered an obscenity if referring to sex. If it is being used politically, it's protected under the 1st amendment. So, to say to that he was assaulting the cop would imply that he meant fuck him physically. No go.

Secondly, swallowing the weed was not destruction of evidence because whether they smoked the weed or ate the weed, it would have been ingested-therefore, destroyed.

Lastly, Indians are allowed to smoke peyote in their reservations because the government has granted them a place and sanctioned their union. The government should not be able to determine what religious practices (i.e. Rastafarian's smoking weed) are not considered valid. This argument did not hold up, however.

Ok, I'm done.

Wait-one more (random) thing: the concept for race car driving came from when alcohol was illegal and bootleggers drove fancy/souped up cars to outrun the police.

Don't Let it Go To Waste,
B

You Know You Went To Temple If

Click the picture (it's a link to the list):

These were clearly written by an "old head",
because some references were completely lost on me.
BUT some of these gave me the giggles.

(i.e. Temple squirrels are HELLA gangsta,
crackheads aren't a rare commodity-unfortunately,
J&H definitely uses laxatives,
staying in North Philly does shake a lot of your usual fears, etc.)

Fight-Fight-Fight
for the Cherry and the White,
B

p.s. I'm starting over with the blog count. I know, I know-I was just about to reach 5,000 (imagine if I had started counting from the first day I made this thing). Anywho, this way I have a more in depth view of whose reading and how often. Yes, that actually matters to me.

INTRODUCING... Imagine Me

It's been a long while since I've posted a performance.
You might want to scroll down one post & pause Erykah.
Nonetheless, here you have it.
Performed last Thursday at Philalive-
Imagine Me.

Just Gotta Make It,
B

Thanx for the Laugh

I love my sister. I couldn't say that enough.

I'll give you just one reason: Even through text, I can hear her saying things exactly how she'll say them in person, and even if she's dead serious-I find it hilarious. Todays' conversation went as follows (excuse the hood/country grammar or lack thereof lol) Oh yeah, my inner thoughts will be expressed within brackets, in italicized font:

Big Sis: Hey chica what you been up to!?
Me: Bout to walk into work, I miss you man!
Big Sis: I forgot you be working now. I miss you too!
Big Sis: Girl why I had to report this lady I worked with to human resources. She is out of control! Last week she said "good night monkeys" to me and this other black girl. [uh oh, big mistake]
Big Sis: I checked her on it, but then yesterday I overheard her telling somebody that she was a redneck. Unacceptable! [has anyone seen the 'Unforgiveable' videos on YouTube? The word 'unacceptable' made this pop in my head immediately, who knows?]
Big Sis: Girl Obama is about to be president, I don't have time for this shit.
Me: Good night monkeys? Wtf? That's crazy lmao @ your Obama comment- you’re a mess.. what'd you say to her?
Big Sis: Yeah girl monkeys. Of course she tried to say it in a joking way but everybody know you don't call a black person a monkey [by this point, I'm dying laughing cause that's so true and I can just see my sister ranting]. I called her a monkey back, but she knew what time it was by the way I said it.
Big Sis: So then the starts explaining herself “Well if I didn’t call you a name that means I don’t like you. I call my son pet names all the time.” I said “Well I’m not your child or your pet.
Me: I know that’s right lmao are you on break?
Big Sis: That was just strike one. Strike two was the red neck comment and then she was talking about how her son calls African Americans “brown people”, but he doesn’t know any better although he’s 10 years old, girl strike 3!
Big Sis: Right is right and wrong is wrong. Obama don’t play that so neither do I! lol

Enough Said,
B

If I Could Say What I Want to Say

"I'm feeling nervous-
trying to be so perfect.
Cause I know you're worth it.

It don't do me any good.
It's just a waste of time.
What use is it to you,
what's on my mind?
If it aint coming out,
we aren't going anywhere.

So why can't I just tell you that I care?"

Wondering Which Way the Wind'll Blow,
B

Let's Get One Thing Straight, I'm Not

Late post:
(these flyers were being passed around campus)

Yesterday was National Coming Out Day. It was founded by Dr. Robert Elchberg and Jean O'Leary in 1988, in celebration of the Second National March on Washington for Lesbian and Gay rights one year earlier, in which 500,000 people marches on Washington for Lesbian and Gay Rights equality. National Coming Out Day events are aimed at raising awareness of the LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender) community among the general populance in an effort to give a familiar face to the LGBT rights movements.
(Wikipedia)

Whether you're lesbian, gay, bisexual, transexual or an ally-
You have rights.

In Case You Didn't Know,
B

How Do I Feel?

This Doesn't Even Begin to Describe It,
B

I will be posting a part 2 to 'Class Is In Session Mothafuckas' as soon as humanly possible, considering my illness ::insert sad face here::

Today's My Day

Been a long time coming, right?

Happy Birthday to Me,
B

Son, I Think I'm in ♥ With You

Preface: The sole purpose of this is to tell ya'll how great Dom is.

Let's start with the need to know information. Last night was Philalive, Amanda Diva was the feature, and she was also painting on stage. So.. she's painting this picture and (I kid you not) as soon as she started, I decided that (though I had no idea what she was painting)-the picture was meant for me. This is what it looked like at that time:

She ends up painting the side profile of a black woman with big lips, a gold hoop in her ear, and a huge afro. What's in her fro? Anything music related- this consist of a person with headphones, a boom box, guitar, piano, tuba player, etc. The painting was ill.

Now is where the sad part comes in- when I ask her what she's charging for the picture, she tells me that its' been sold. Sick, much? I was. Just to wrap the story up, she tells me happy birthday at the end of the show and says someone bought the painting for me. GAS'd wouldn't even begin to describe the way I was feeling.

Earlier in the show, I told Dom I wanted the painting for my birthday (tomorrow, the 4th). I made the assumption that this went in one ear and out the other. Clearly though, it didn't. Now, I have my first piece of art and it's by a spoken word artist (let alone, a Def Poet)... and Mr. Wilkins bought it. I love you, son. Like. Really.

And just to top this whole situation off, Amanda Diva (who's an outstanding performer and full of energy) asked Dom, "Are you fucking her?" He replies no, and she said, "You're a great friend to buy this for her and you're not fucking her." Hilarious, but o-so true.

A happy me with the poet/artist who did my painting, Amanda Diva (I can't wait for 'Be.' to see this)

I Appreciate You Immensely Mr. Administrator,
B

p.s. Did I mention that last nights show was just oozing with talent? Shout outs to Babel and Swift Technique!

Do I Really Haveta?

Is it necessary to remind you that Philalive takes place tonight? Please don't tell me that it is. We should have this thing down by now.

Proceeding...
This is a tad random, but I was walking to class and I stopped to use the bathroom. For the second time this week, I've been inspired by the conversation that occurred between different people who wrote on the bathroom door. Crazy, right? I know.

Initially, I was trying to determine what target market I'd direct this magazine proposal towards for class, and I was stuck trying to figure that out. I knew I wanted it to be based on a woman's niche, and that's all I had. So, I take a bathroom break and this girl had written on the bathroom door about being abused by her father, not being able to leave, and asking for advice.

Some people couldn't help themselves but to respond with ignorance, but other people sincerely reached out to her. To sound every bit like a mushy female, I was touched. I ended up deciding to name my magazine Victor. What's that? Victor: a person who has overcome or defeated an adversary; conqueror. I believe this theme kind of followed up with the lesson from last weeks Bible study which spoke about placing yourself in the position of someone victorious versus being the victim.

However, what really impressed me was what I saw written on the door today. I can't remember the details regarding why the statement was made, but I know that a girl completely denounced the whole idea of religion. What was someone's response? She basically wrote her testimony telling how good God is on the door. I got to thinking... if I read this, and there wasn't already a response on the door- would I have wrote something? Would I have opposed the girls statement in hopes that she would see it and maybe learn a thing or two or change her feelings about My God? (what can I say, I'm stingy-but He's so worth sharing)

I have yet to reach a conclusion as to what I would do, but I took the smallest step by writing beside the girls testimony, "I second that."

I Just Had To,
B