*the illest motherfucker since oedipus.

Spewing Thoughts On Christmas.

2011-12-25T23:59:00.005-05:00

I wonder how long my life is going to feel like this. Unsettled. Everything up in the air, me waiting for it to fall into place or into pieces. It's been years.

When will I feel okay? When will I be there?

I like to think that once I'm a teacher, living on my own, knowing how to drive, saving money, helping my community, writing consistently, blah blah blah, I'll be happy. But who fucking knows. I'm trying so hard to love my life at present, but all I can think of is that future. And maybe, when I get to that future, I'll only be thinking of an even better future. I reeeally don't want to get stuck like that. I need to learn to love the now.

I've wasted so much time, I swear. I guess I'm having a quarter-life crisis because I feel like I've squandered my youth. I keep screaming YOU'RE 20 SHUT THAT SHIT UP at myself but it only helps so much. I've been missing my youth... like, my pre-double-digit youth. I think it's because I recently reread The Bluest Eye and Toni Morrison's perfectly bittersweet description of childhood brought back so many feelings. It's a shame that I didn't know how much more I could've gotten away with as a child. I probably would've been less anxious, and would be less anxious now.

I'm trying to understand myself in relation to this world. All I see around me is everything going down in flames and I don't know what to do about it. I want to help. I want to change it all. I feel terrible that I can't. I have to learn to take responsibility for my own individual proactivity.

Sometimes I think life has treated me so unfairly but those thoughts don't last long because I know life isn't fair to most people. And I'm SO privileged. The fact that I'm sitting on my own bed, in my own room, not hungry, typing this right now... I'm one of the lucky ones. Which is why I try hard not to complain. Complaining is annoying and it gets nothing done. I try instead to get things done.

My first semester back to school since last year is over. I got an A, two Bs, and a C to result in a 3.0 gpa. Not terrible, not great either, but better than I've done before. I'm off to a good start, I think. Next semester I'm experimenting with myself. I only scheduled my classes for Tuesdays and Thursdays. I'll be at at school from 8am-2pm, two days a week. It's either gonna be a great success or a total failure, obviously. I'm sorta excited to see how it goes. I'm in no rush to return to school though. I have 22 days of break left and I want it to last.

Shitty mood's been dominating me for a while now. I'm living with it because I know eventually it will pass. More music, less tv/internet has been helping. I desperately need to create, though, so I can feel even better.

And I can't wait until it's warm outside again.

Cooking Is Therapeutic.

2011-12-18T16:55:00.001-05:00

Made some fucking kickass delicious vegetable lo mein with peanut sauce. I feel calm and pleased.

OM NOM NOM NOM.

Untitled.

2011-12-12T22:03:00.005-05:00

His love is so strong, it reminds me of my mother's. Warm, comforting, endless. Unconditional. It drips over me slow and sweet like honey, saturating my every pore until I become queen bee. I know my place. It is at the center of his world. -08/18/2011

[Relevant: I have or almost have called my boyfriend "mom" more times than I'd like to admit. Shit is real.]

Crunch Time.

2011-11-28T06:23:00.002-05:00

I have three weeks of school left. It's gonna be hellish, especially since Thanksgiving break seemed to last so long. I practically forgot school existed. Here, I'm making myself a little schedule to remind me what I must accomplish.

11/29 Psychology chps. 9 & 11 Test
11/29 African-American History reading response #9 due
12/06 Psych Extra Credit due
12/08 AAH Historical Marker paper due
12/13 AAH reading response #10 due
12/15 Psych chps. 10, 13 & 14 Test
12/20 7:00AM-9:00AM PSYCHOLOGY FINAL
12/20 11:20AM-1:20PM AFRICAN-AMERICAN HISTORY FINAL
12/20 1:30PM-3:30PM 20TH CENTURY US HISTORY FINAL
12/21 8:00AM-10:00AM APPLIED COMPUTER TECHNOLOGY FINAL

In between all that I'll be doing hundreds of pages of reading and probably having a pop quiz or two.

Fuck my life on December 20th, obviously.

Shit. Damn. Motherfucker.

2011-11-25T20:44:00.005-05:00

Wednesday, my wallet was stolen.

Right now, I am completely moneyless and without identification. I had to borrow $30 from my boyfriend's mom to get back to Philly, because this happened in New York. I immediately cancelled my bank card so all the money in my account is still intact, but I have no way to access it.

This sucks. Suh-uuuuucks. So fucking hard.

I spent the majority of today mourning the loss of all the little sentimental, random, and important-for-life things that I kept in my wallet, feeling sorry for myself, and praying PNC sends me a new debit card in time for my life not to be totally thrown off kilter. I'm also freaking out hoping whoever took it isn't smart enough to steal my identity.

Shitty shitty fucky fuckity shit ass motherfuckingshitting fuck. DAMMIT.

Moving on, moving on. Trying to.

An Exhale.

2011-11-22T19:41:00.001-05:00

In the midst of all my uncertainty and self-hatred, there come tiny, weight-lifting-from-shoulders, eyes-seeing-clearly moments when I just let go and fall in love with myself. Those moments are so precious because at this point in my life, they're rare. I had one today.

And appropriately enough for the upcoming holiday, I'm so thankful. I had forgotten how it felt to think of who I am and just smile, just love it. Self-love is like water and I am so used to dehydration that when this feeling hit me today, I didn't even know what it was. A few minutes of freedom. Contentment. Peace. Relief. It felt good to be reminded that underneath all my shit there is a part that believes in me and is ready to embrace myself and be happy. I need to keep pushing to set it free.

And They Wonder Why It Takes Me So Long.

2011-11-10T21:55:00.004-05:00

Every time I attempt to sort something out, it goes like this:

1) Open mind for extensive in-depth thought on one thing.
2) Every single thought that's been waiting to be hashed out notices the opening and rushes for it.
3) All thoughts get stuck in the door.
4) Mind moves faster and faster between thoughts, remembering, forgetting, and creating ideas. Focus evaporates. I may feel physical effects, anxiety. Thinking and thinking and thinking and thinking and...
Kaboom.

Every. Single. Time.

PDA.

2011-10-24T22:33:00.003-04:00

This post will be composed entirely of pictures of my boyfriend and I. Leave now if you want... We're actually really bad at taking good pictures together. That combined with the fact that we live in different states means that I have less than 20 shareable pictures to show for 9 months of relationship. Iontcaredoe. The memories are what's important.

Candid, unadulterated joy.

Adults.

My hair, much like the rest of me, is magnetically drawn to him.

Rollin' up.

He likes me. I swear.

Floating.

Standing.

Smooching.

<3

Love you baby.

Puzzle.

2011-10-18T00:23:00.001-04:00

I'm meant to build something. I have tools but I don't know how to use them. I have purpose but lack ambition. I understand but can't explain.

Love rules me. Fear conquers me.

As the picture gets clearer, it is harder to ignore.

A Preliminary Goodbye.

2011-10-05T22:41:00.002-04:00

So in about 3 months it'll be a year since I (may have) lost a(nother) friend.

When I decided to take a semester off, I messaged who I considered my nine closest friends and told them about it, so they could hear from the source rather than through the grapevine. I wanted everyone to know the deal, to avoid any awkward encounters in the future. This was January 21st.

Only one of those friends reacted negatively. I tried to calm her agitation, but she refused. The last thing she said to me was "Pssshhh man whatever yo. You're right, it is done." and she hasn't talked to me since. Not to wish me a happy birthday when I turned 20, not to ask me about my future plans, not to ask if I'm alive. I don't know why my decision seemed to hurt her so bad, but it did, and it seems she doesn't care for me anymore.

I'm thinking about this because her birthday is in a few days. I want to see my friend, reconcile, and help make her day special. But I don't think she wants me back.

Well... Okay. A different me might be devastated by this, but it doesn't hurt nearly as bad as I would've thought. I'm fine, and I've been fine. I'm finally understanding that it is not my responsibility to please everyone nor my burden to fall apart when I can't. If something feels right deep within me, I can't worry about anyone outside saying it's wrong. I refuse to grovel at the feet of those who think I've failed them when I'm only trying to do right by myself.

So, at this point, my door remains open. If she contacted me or even if I ran into her on the street, I would treat her with no ill will. I'd be excited to tell her about my life and to hear about hers. I do miss her... Sadly, I don't think it's gonna happen. At first I thought it would take a few days for her to cool off, and then we would talk, but here we are, October and... nothing. I know by most people's standards I'm being generous, but I understand how time can pass, so when it does hit 12 months, the door closes. Basically I feel, I can't let you occupy a space in my heart and mind forever if you can't speak to me once in a year.

High school's over, and the ties I felt bound to have frayed...

Blood On Beats.

2011-09-28T14:10:00.005-04:00

...is the title of my upcoming mixtape.

This project explores the darker side of CQA. Subject matter includes my journey with depression and my struggles with self-injury. There's an extremely low number of people in this world who know that I've had problems with cutting myself and still struggle with it sometimes... That number's gonna increase I suppose, but hey. I'm ready.

I've released three tracks already and I think they give you the gist of what I'm talking about better than me just talking about it. I have no idea when the whole thing will be done because I have a lot more writing and recording to do and a lot less time to do it in with my full-time student self. But making it public, making it known that I am doing this gives me a good kick in the ass to keep working.

Listen below...

&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;a href="http://caasiquinneanderson.bandcamp.com/track/hope-and-string"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;Hope and String by CQA&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;

&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;a href="http://caasiquinneanderson.bandcamp.com/track/zombie"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;Zombie by CQA&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;

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My main goals here are honesty and experimentation. This tape is a narrative. I'm talking about myself, where I've been, where I am, where I'm going, you knooow. I'm also trying to incorporate my poetry into my rapping... Though they have so much in common, writing a verse and writing a poem are two entirely different processes for me. I use different language and much more vivid imagery when I write poems, and I want more of that, more of me, in my music... I think all these qualities--poetry, honesty, and experimentation--are most demonstrated in the third track up there, Red Sea. It's my favorite so far.

This means a hell of a lot to me... I know I always say that, but it applies to this one especially. The title isn't random. I'm really slicing myself open here and letting it all out... It's what's inside of me, what flows through me, my very blood... on beats.

[Bandcamp. Facebook.]
SUPPORT ME, DAMN IT!

Community.

2011-09-26T13:36:00.001-04:00

Every day at 8...AM.

So, I'm now a student of the illustrious Community College of Philadelphia, and I must say... It's pretty great.

I don't know why, but ever since I made the decision to go to CCP, I've been really excited about it. I just wanted to be somewhere totally different than anywhere I'd been before. I wanted out of the honors program, the dorm life, and the "university pride" that I experienced in my year and a half at Temple. And the environment at my new school is just what I need. See, there's no pretension at community college. It's very down to earth, very humble. I feel this strange kinship with all of my classmates. Like, we're all there, going to school because we want to be better. I don't know why I didn't feel that at Temple, but I just didn't. It's kinda nice. I honestly don't expect to make any new friends at CCP, but I do know that I don't feel afraid to talk to my classmates. I've even been speaking and raising my hand in class, which is a serious step in the right direction for me.

I also truly love being a commuter. When I was living on campus at Temple, it was like I could never get away. School was everywhere, no escape. I used to go on long walks into the surrounding hood, just to be away from any shred of "Owl Life." Now, school and home are two separate places. After a long day of class I can come home, to my own room, my own bed, and not think about anything school-related until I want to. At Temple, even my living space was a constant reminder of everything I wanted to leave behind.

Now, all my warm fuzzy feelings about CCP could be due to a change in my frame of mind. After 8 months of not doing shit, I was really ready to go back to school and really determined to do it right this time. So that's a part of it. And it's not like I never plan on seeing Temple ever again. When I finish up at CCP, I'll probably end up back at TU, furthering my education and whatnot. They do have that kickass African-American Studies program that makes my academic mouth water... Anyway, the important thing is that when the time comes for me to go back to Temple, or somewhere else, I know I'll be prepared for it.

AWOL.

2011-09-25T17:32:00.002-04:00

I don't know if I mentioned this before, but I didn't have internet in my house for most of the summer. I used it at the library or more recently at school, 99% of the time for formal purposes. Today is only my second day back to the recreational web and I'm already tired of it. Life, though way less convenient, is way more peaceful for me without this shit. When I had limited use I ignored everything but what I needed to do. Now that I can log on whenenever I want, it's easier to get caught up in the feeds and timelines and videos and everything. All it does is make me question myself, hate the world, and remember all the people I want to forget.

I know I sound pretty negative. I just recognize the effect a lot of casual web-surfing has on me, and why. I'm not like everyone else. I can't deal with the constant stream of information and I definitely can't deal with the quasi-intellectualism and downright meanness that proliferates here. I like to dwell on things and come to my own unique conclusions, rather than having others' opinions blasted across my screen every five seconds. I like to be nice, and I hate watching people jump on bandwagons of thought without doing a shred of their own research or original thinking The internet forgets too fast, changes its tune too often, and allows for too much keyboard thuggetry for me. *shrug*

So yeah, I've been gone. Not just from here, I've been completely absent from my whole life as of late. Not doing anything. Not talking to anybody, no reading, no writing, no making music... hardly even any listening to music, and that's big. But now it's September. I've been back to school, a new school, for about a month now and I like it. It gives me something to do and makes me feel like I'm moving forward, instead of the stark raving stuckness I was feeling before. So far so good.

Uh, what else? Still in love like shit. My boyfriend is amazing and I'm super fucking thankful that I have him. I'm beginning to settle into being 20 years old, getting a feel for what this year has in store for me... A lot more blogging, right? Well... let's hope.

I Am A Revenant.

2011-08-03T14:01:00.001-04:00

July 29th, I entered my second decade of life.
This song is to commemorate the event. Consider it my 20-year-old anthem.

Another year has passed and I'm alright
I lick the salt from my wounds and run into the night...

Well it's unknown
Why collusion goes on
It rapes like betrayal
And I'm rotting in the squalor of some

Do you remember the rage?
I remember the hate
I remember that it rained for years
And the blood had left a stain

You say I got karma to collect
I dig my grave and
I'm here waiting for some kind of check
And if I get one I'll hold my breath
I racked my spine
It takes a year of you to warrant a test
As the years go by I won't cry
It's the year you walked into my life
I will despise

We are the revenants, whoa
We will rise up from the dead
We become the living
We are back to reclaim our stolen breath.

2011-07-20T16:38:00.000-04:00

It's July. Already. The tail end of July, in fact. At this moment I am dangerously close to 1) being 20 years old, 2) resuming life as a full-time college student, and 3)...okay there's no 3. But you get my drift.

My oh my, where has the time gone? When August hits I know I'm seriously gonna freak, so I tried to make this month last loooong. It flew by anyway.

I remain unemployed and unhappy and it may be fucked up, but I'm used to it. Taking a semester off taught me that my self-discipline skills are seriously lacking and I still need some sort of outside structure in my life. A valuable lesson.

I should've taken this time to dive headfirst into artistic endeavors, but I was so concerned with what everyone else was telling me to do and the other goals I had set for myself that I didn't. I didn't do much of anything really. My mind just floated away and I accomplished a big fat nothing. So at this point I'm just bored and disappointed. Ready to get moving again.

We Used To Be Friends.

2011-06-30T01:11:00.002-04:00

So it seems like a lot of my relationships are shifting around... Or I'm shifting around and causing things to change. Or both. Whatever. I've been thinking.

I feel myself fading even further off of the social radar. Friends have become acquaintances. Acquaintances have become just people I know. People I know have become people I used to know--and it's not like I knew that many people in the first place.

One of the reasons is simply that I'm a mess. At times I just feel my mind unraveling. And I need to be alone to fix that shit up. It's true that sometimes human interaction helps, but most of the time, for me, it doesn't. I cherish solitude, and I'm at a point in my life where I need a lot of it.

They say "If a person really cares about you, they will make time for you." They say it and I guess they believe it because it's easy to believe. But I don't agree. I guess because I love a lot of people. I truly love and miss them, from afar. I rarely reach out. Not because I don't care... I'm just scared.

When someone takes an interest in me, I freak. I push them away. I push hard. This only became aware to me recently, the degrees to which I unconsciously go just to prevent people from befriending me. Nice people, who may genuinely think I'm cool. I run fast and far from anyone who seems to be trying to get to know me. And it's all because of my old opponent, fear. I'm afraid that they'll hurt me. Lord knows it's happened before. Experience has taught me that people are out to take you for everything you got and then leave you in the dust. I don't want to go through that again.

I could rattle off a list of people I've kept, am still keeping at a distance for no good reason other than my own bullshit. I want to apologize. I want to build. But I don't know how.

And I'm even more afraid that instead of them failing me in the friendship, I'll fail them. I won't live up to their expectations. I'm not even slightly as interesting as they think I am. They won't like me. The beginnings of friendship are so awkward and I'll just fuck everything up. Everyone has enough friends already anyway. They don't need me. Aaaaahhh. It's better not to try.

A part of my brain has put the people I consider friends into "active" and "dormant" categories. Active friends are the ones I talk to and see regularly. "Regularly" could be once a month, but the important part is these people stay in the rotation. Dormant friends, on the other hand, I may see once a year, or less. I keep tabs on them through internet stalking and maybe an occasional text. They probably don't even know how much I care. But I consider it possible to flip the switch and turn these dormant friends active. I feel I could turn to these people if things got desperate... maybe.

Everything comes back to this profound lack of confidence, in myself and in others. I have such little faith in people, especially in my own generation, it's hard to build up the courage to try and form a bond. Even the friends I have now tend to disappoint me often. And I don't like being disappointed.

Where the hell am I going with all this? I don't know. Just trying to empty my brain. Trying to explain myself again.

When the ink is flowing I'll smile;the writer's block'll make me go wild.

2011-06-24T01:54:00.000-04:00

Oh hey. It's me, the worst blogger ever. These long postless stretches make me feel terrible. I come to the page and feel nervous and anxious as the day's date goes further and further from the date of my last entry. No one likes a flaky blogger. I know I don't.

I also know that I'm dealing with a lot right now. Everything about my life is straining to change against these barriers, some obvious, others more elusive. There's a lot of problems and I'm fucking spazzing trying to fix it all. My thoughts won't stop long enough for me to get them out.

I need to take time to sit down and breathe and just do the only thing that's ever come naturally to me, without worrying. I'm a writer above all else and I'm losing myself in all this shit. I need to take it all and make something out of it, or I'm just gonna feel even worse.

Raise Your Hand If You Saw This Coming.

2011-05-31T22:20:00.001-04:00

I'm... I'm unemployed. Again. Siiiiigh. And NO, I didn't get fired. I didn't quit either. My position was temporary, but just a lot more temporary than expected. While I thought I would have work til at least the end of July, I ended up feeling the glory of employment for a grand total of... four days.

It really... really sucks. I was so fucking excited about that job man. My first job. *sad gaze into the distance*... It meant a whole lot to me. Was a pretty crushing blow when they told me the girl I was filling in for had returned, I must admit. I didn't mean to take it so personally, but I had invested a lot...

I've given myself ample time to not be so butthurt about it so that when I came to blog I wouldn't go off on some crazy shit. I think that worked out well.

So now, back to being broke, back to feeling like a failure, back to the horror that is the job search. I'll be alright.

Working Girl.

2011-05-13T09:10:00.000-04:00

So, I got a job.

...Did you read that?

I. GOT. A. JOB.

The thing that I've been trying to do for the past four months, I have finally done!

This is not just any job, oh no. This is my very FIRST job. Almost 20 years old, I'm pretty damn late in the game, but it had to happen sometime.

I feel so accomplished. So rejuvenated. Proud of myself even. I think I might be, dare I say it... HAPPY.

I don't expect this excitement to last. I might end up hating my job like everyone else but I know for a while I'm gonna walk in every day beaming and I'm gonna work my ass to the bone. Because this is MINE.

=D Yaaaaay!

Tuber Tantrum.

2011-05-09T10:57:00.001-04:00

I am in a foul mood this morning. It all started a few hours ago, when I had my little heart set on some home fries for breakfast and opened the fridge to discover that we're out of potatoes. For a normal person this would've been a small blow. "Whatever, I'll make eggs instead." Not me. I almost started crying and have been on the verge of tears since.

You have to understand, I'm not THAT upset about the potatoes. I'm going to the market to buy some pretty soon and that problem will be solved. It's just tiny little things like this that set me off. When I opened that fridge and became aware of our spudlessness, I felt indescribably defeated. Like nothing good could happen all day because of it. It was like the fucking sky fell, and I don't even know why. I shuffled back upstairs, hungry, cursing to myself, feeling the darkness descend. And then I felt even worse, because I am such a helpless victim to my own swinging moods.

I can't let feelings like this define me. I'm unstable, yeah. But I don't want to be this crazy girl, flipping out because I can't have the breakfast I want. I feel like shit right now simply because I do and there is absolutely no reason for me to. I just don't get it. I've always had a thing for objectivity and logic, and it's always clashed with my erratic ass emotions. This battle rages.

I pick myself apart and try to understand.

This.

2011-05-02T11:28:00.001-04:00

"Baby I don't see shit wrong with you. I see all the things about you that make you you. I love your happiness, your depression, your laugh, your cry, your smile and your frown. I love it all because that's what makes you who you are. Do I hope some day we can be permanently happy? Yes I do... but til then babe your sadness is part of you, and I love it and every other part."

...See what I mean? Yeah. You see what I mean.

And I Can't Go Back To Sleep.

2011-05-01T10:57:00.002-04:00

May 1st. A beautiful sunny day as well as one of my favorite songs.

I'm UP and I'm STUCK running AMOK in a RUT...

"Do you know why you're miserable?"
"Unfulfilled promises to myself. Lack of progress. Crushing boredom."

I really don't have much to say at all.

MMS subject = post title? Maybe?

2011-04-24T03:58:00.000-04:00

This is my first attempt at blogging from my phone. If I like it, if it works, I may be able to update more often. My desktop monitor is malfunctioning and my laptop just hates me so getting online on the actual computers in my house = not happening.

Everything is still pretty fucked up inside my head, ha. I'm wading through it though. Always.

But I don't want to get into anything until I know this works properly. I think I'm gonna try to add a picture, too. There should be a picture of a pizza if this works... K bye.

I Am Never Right.

2011-04-18T00:39:00.004-04:00

I couldn't believe my eyes/the cueball laid away/split into equal sides.

The end is nigh/I can feel a storm coming/it's the first sign.

When It Takes Over...

2011-04-15T21:55:00.001-04:00

Crying is like breathing.
I stop eating.
I sleep constantly.
I chainsmoke.
I don't talk to anyone.
I start hating my friends.
I do not leave the house.
My head hurts.
I'm nauseous.
I think about violence.
I avoid social networking.
I don't want to blog.
I worry my boyfriend.
I try to be okay.

It Needs To Be Said.

2011-04-04T04:24:00.001-04:00

There are different kinds of hatred. There is hate that comes from ignorance and fear, like that of extreme racists and homophobes. There is hate that comes from anger and spite, like that of people who commit mass & random violence. But the deepest, most painful, most complicated hatred is that which comes from love turned sour. When I say 'I hate you,' I am only describing the greatest love I've ever felt, gone rotten.

I wrote on that June 13th, 2010. It's one of those things I read and shake my head whispering Damn.

The last time I saw him was over webcam, Autumn 2009. He at school in Florida and me in Philly, we stared at each other, typing frustrated words until it got to be too much and he signed out. I cried after that. Before, it was two years just about, the last half of that spent trying to repair this friendship fractured by one cruel kiss. My senior prom, my 18th birthday--sacrificed, for the sake of trying to get back the best friend with whom I was so desperately in love. The best friend who scorned me because I didn't know how to react when he finally crossed that line.

And I used to think I'd never recover. I'm not gonna lie and say I'm not a bit choked up right now...

I told my boyfriend about him. His view: If he didn't break your heart, you might not be with me now. So I can't really be mad. I almost caught an attitude but damn, he's right.

My life, my emotional life let me say, has been pretty rough. Shit, you know this. I've been battling depression for years and I do not always win. I've lost friends. I've been heartbroken several times over. I've gone mad. I've sought escape in the darkest and most dangerous places.

But now... Now it all seems like it happened for a reason.

Tonight my best friend told me that she envies me because You have a boyfriend who you love and who loves you, and you're in your bed at home waiting for him to call you. And then you'll hear his voice and get that feeling. I said in response, Man. I don't even know what to tell you. I just got lucky. And I meant that shit.

This isn't some sort of love guru advice post. I'm not here to tell you how to forgive someone or even to tell you that you need to forgive someone. I'm not here to say "Open yourself up to love, and it will come." I have no idea what that means and I'd wager that most people don't. I'm just here proclaiming my profound gratitude.

I got lucky and found love.

...I used to think we found each other late but now I realize we met each other right when we were supposed to. We needed all that pain and pleasure from our past to help us help each other now. We grew up the way we did so that we can love each other the way we do. Caasi, I'm fucking crazy about you...

Real, warm, healing love.

And I am SO thankful.

...But What Does It Mean?

2011-03-24T02:50:00.011-04:00

In A Relationship EP [Download]

Every time I share a creative piece, I'm filled with energy. Because it's my art, a part of myself that I'm setting free, I suddenly feel much more vulnerable. That heightened vulnerability gives me this spiritual openness and clarity that I don't usually have.

Creating something is a great experience and releasing my creation into the world is an almost greater one.

My definition of art is: representative of relative truth. So, my art is everything I know. And I'm telling it to you!

...It's important to me, at least...

Anyway, this energy. It's like, for a little while, I actually allow my own light to shine. I speak up for myself. I show what I am made of. It feels pretty good, but it fades quickly. The only way to keep it going is to keep going. Keep creating. Keep trying. "Keep it up!" as two people messaged me this week.

Well then. I guess that's the plan.

But I don't understand why people have so much faith in me. My entire life I've been surrounded by people who think I'm great and believe I can accomplish great things. And I'm not complaining, I'm just wondering why none of it has gotten through. I used to see it, but I lost all semblance of self-confidence years ago. And I don't know why.

Fuck is wrong with me man? My whole generation is a bunch of can-do, build-your-own-revolution, the-sky-is-just-the-beginning motherfuckers, making moves and shit, while I'm over here, a goddamn degenerate. I have yet to prove myself to myself and I still think of me as nothing.

The "a ha!" moment is when I realize that the thing that stops me is the same thing that makes me go.

I'm Serious.

2011-03-17T00:31:00.002-04:00

My second mixtape is done.
To be released on the first day of Spring.

Is it worth listening to? I think so.

Bandcamp
Facebook

"Tortured Artist is Tortured."

2011-03-14T07:00:00.003-04:00

This is the phrase I repeat to myself over and over whenever I'm working on something creative. In its simplicity, it might even be the phrase that defines me, but that's a thought for another time.

What I'd like to call your attention to now is the fact that yes, I've been creating. I've been writing, I've been rhyming, I've been recording. Way back in December I posted something to the tune of, I have a mission this break. Quickly shifting into rap mode. Phone off, nocturnal, nowhere to be found, obsessed. Excuse me while I save myself.

Since "this break" has turned into "this extended ass sabbatical," my art means even more to me. It really is the only thing that keeps me from spinning.

I'm currently working on two projects. Technically they're both mixtapes because I have yet to find the Timbo to my Misdemeanor and am still using beats that weren't made for me, but I'd like to think of one as an EP and one as an album.

First up, to be released this Spring, my In A Relationship EP.

It's true. I recently procured myself a wonderful, wonderful man and in the beforeduringandaftermath I wrote a bunch of songs about it. This is a semi-lightweight, kinda feel-good, "here's a chance for you to be all up in my business without ever having to talk to me" project.

And CQA has a new track out, RIGHT NOW. It's called Distance and it revolves around the fact that I live in Philly while my boyfriend lives in New York.

I kindly request that you go listen to that jawn on my new, musically-focused Facebook page. And if you wanna like me while you're at it, I mean, hey ;)

All Roads Lead Home.

2011-03-09T21:29:00.003-05:00

I'm trying to mellow out, and this is one of those songs for me. One that I can listen to whenever, darkest night or brightest morning. It always helps. Also, long lost P.O.S. videos ftw!

No place like a home on your back, pack light like
"Tonight's been nice, but I'm movin' quick."

[I dedicate this post to Christine <3]

Honestly...

2011-03-07T23:09:00.002-05:00

As angry as I am at everyone and everything and myself and the whole entire world, I can't complain too much.

I got what I need.

Music.

2011-03-01T12:07:00.001-05:00

Murder murder, a ripe blood stain
Pull the fucking trigger 'cause I'm sick of it all
Murder murder, a ripe fucking hate
Pull the fucking trigger 'cause I'm sick of it all

I went to school today with an uzi, there's this kid
He teased me so I shot him in the face
All the world's light won't ease my pain
It won't cease, I'm diseased
Will you hang me please?
I'm a nihilist raised on violence
What do I do? I'm American youth
All my life I've lived in silence
I'm gonna snap, I'll get you back...

They Understand Nothing.

2011-02-28T13:31:00.004-05:00

So yesterday, one of my aunts called and berated me for a good long while about my non-progress in the past month. Out of nowhere. She questioned my lack of employment and told me I need a fire set under my hiney... Yes, she said "hiney." She told me that I need to grow up and that I "can't be THAT depressed." She also implied that my mom's high blood pressure is my fault.

Shit, man. That hurt. You wonder how someone with a degree in psychology can be that stupid.

It's not like I didn't already feel completely incompetent and useless. I definitely have not been looking for jobs constantly and am totally spending all my mom's money on the "luxuries" that I demand she supply. I am surely happy as a fucking lark. And everything I'm doing really affects you, who don't even live with me. Yep.

She called back five minutes later to say that this was tough love and she really only wants what's best for me.

Well thanks.

I Can't With You.

2011-02-26T22:12:00.002-05:00

Will everyone I know continue to post the same photos of the same pretty, fashionable, half-naked girls? And the same beautiful scenery. And the same quotes. And the same music. And the same everything.

Will you continue to thirst for success? Will you continue to falsely identify with movements you know nothing of? Will you continue to believe that "staying informed" will save you?

You like hip-hop. You like rock. You like jazz and the blues and fucking indie films. You watch the news. You even read. I get it.

But I just... I just can't. Look here:

You know how many times I've seen this goddamn picture of Lisa Bonet posted in the past month? FIND SOMETHING NEW.

I'm weaning myself off of the internet. Getting rid of my Facebook was the best thing I've done in a while. Now it's these blogs. I consistently read too many to count, hoping for something real to show and occasionally I am impressed. Too often though, I'm met with mediocrity. Unoriginal, unfunny, uninspiring mediocrity at that. It's all over Twitter, it's all over Tumblr. You're all just swallowing words and regurgitating them back into each other's mouths. I swear you don't even really know what you're saying anymore.

DAMN I sound antisocial. And what if I am?

I'm not talking about your blog, really. I'm talking about your soul.

I simply cannot get with any of this. So I need to stop trying. I'm probably not explaining myself properly but fuck it.

Anger, man. It's a hell of a drug.

AWK.

2011-02-11T04:13:00.003-05:00

This is for all the awkward motherfuckers out there. The people who can't get through the day without feeling like the most idiotic bag of stupid at least once, usually many times more. The people who respond when they weren't actually being spoken to. The people who don't know whether to hold eye contact or avoid it, to smile or look away. The people who try to be nice to everyone but still get mean-mugged by strangers for no reason. The people who can't have a conversation without letting that one unnecessary comment slip out, who then have to bask and burn in the silence it created.

You know how when you're walking down the street, and you have your music bumping, and you're strutting that ass to the beat? Then the song changes, tempo is redefined abruptly, and you miss a step?

This is for the people who laugh too loud, too early, too late, too long. You keep squeezing after the other person lets go in the hug. You're the one with the hellish cough on test day.

Have you ever been standing at the front of a downward-moving elevator that got crowded at the top floor but will keep opening its doors at every level, so you must bear the gaze of all the frustrated people who can't get on?

This is for the folks who panic when the person in front of them takes the seat they were eyeing on the bus.

You hardly speak. You move quickly. You stare at the ground, and... You might just hate yourself.

Well. I understand.

Thoughts.

2011-02-09T23:51:00.003-05:00

Unable to focus would be an understatement. So here are some thoughts I've collected over time.

12/15/10 - Trying to accept the fact that you actually never, NEVER have a chance with someone, is like trying to swallow a sea urchin. And the end results are the same: a lot of tears cried, an intense need to vomit, and a fucking sore throat.

12/25/10 - People understand waiting for your first time but no other? Fuck is that? Sex is sacred. And meaningless sex is meaningless whether it's your thousandth time or your first. It's fun but it leaves you EMPTY. And I fucking know this without having to live through it? Is that why you're mad?

01/03/11 - My mom said a Newport and a Black & Mild Royale taste the same and I almost hit her.

01/06/11 - A lot of the time, my aversion to superficial friendship keeps me from doing the superficial things that can lead to real friendship.

01/15/11 - BITCH, your vagina is out and your hairline has DISINTEGRATED!

Oh Hay 2.

2011-02-02T01:49:00.000-05:00

I'm elated as fuck that I don't have to trudge through snow and ice to get to class right now. I'm happy as hell that there's no homework assignment waiting to be completed, or email to be sent, or GPA to be worried about. All there is is life to be lived, experience to be garnered, and progress to be made. And there's really nothing stopping me now.

...Oh wait.

What is this cold sensation creeping through my insides? Why does it feel like someone just wrapped a hand around my heart and squeezed? Why can't I breathe, who poked these holes in my lungs? Why does this feel so familiar?

Ah. Self-doubt, you tricky bastard! We meet again.

This is the point, I know. I need to take my life in my own hands. Be free!

But freedom can be its own prison.

Responsibility is key. Take it, cherish it. Stop being so fucking afraid.

This is the point! You know what you want to do. Do it. Shit!

With distractions placed aside, I'm left staring myself in the face.

I against I, greatest battle ever fought.

Oh Hay 1.

2011-02-02T00:43:00.001-05:00

This blog gets way more hits when I don't update. Y'all checkin' for me or something? Aww.

So, what's it been? Twenty...six? days since my last post? Something like that. And in those days my entire life has changed. I mean... I haven't changed. I'm still the same old Caas, but I finally took some action in the direction of claiming myself.

Know what I did? I decided to take the semester off school. When I write it out like that it sounds so easy, but shit. It's hard to follow your heart.

As soon as someone finds out, eyes widen, speech halts, and I'm met with an incredulous "Whyyy?"

Um. Because I want to? That should be reason enough. And if I really explained to you the hell I went through over making this decision, how I felt that not only my mental condition but my very life hung in the balance, would you even understand?

People get so worried when you decide to shift from the predetermined life path. They get worried, and overprotective, and feel the need to question you to the point where you might have to do something drastic, like stop giving a fuck about what they think.

I try to make sure everyone knows I'm happy with this decision when I do choose to provide the privilege of an explanation. Still, they don't believe me.

So... Fuck 'em.

TEH FUNNEHS

2011-01-06T17:04:00.002-05:00

To lighten things up a bit around here. Shoutout to the internet.

and the absolute classic...

Lmfao. Kbye.

Already?

2011-01-02T05:25:00.003-05:00

The end of 2010 really snuck up on me. I'm still not entirely sure how it's January again already, but hey.
I made it.

I snapped a picture of myself as the new year began...

I'm resistant to celebrating a new year because I'm ornery and cynical, but I still can't avoid the feeling of urgency that comes with knowing another year is over. Fuck, did I accomplish anything? is the question that always comes. Every day, minute, second could be a brand new beginning if I really want it. Did I take advantage of that?

I can't answer the question for sure. All I know is that my 2010 was eventful as shit. Up and down in the most unexpected ways. I tend to remember years in terms of the fucked up things that happened and how they affected me. This year I nearly failed out of school and lost my scholarship and had to completely delete a best friend of years from my life. That sucked, and "that sucked" is my polite way of saying I had a total emotional breakdown. But I'm learning to live without her and have successfully saved my academic ass, so I guess I survived.

This year had a lot of good points too, the main one being the release of my first mixtape. That put such a huge blast of positive energy into my existence, you don't even know. I'm still so thankful to everyone for listening and providing such feedback. And I'm thankful to myself for really doing it. I like, really did it and shit! I still can't properly put into words how great that feels.

In 2010, I went to more parties than any other year of my life. I'm attempting to count and I think the number might actually be in the double digits. This is big for me. I'm not saying I enjoyed every gathering, but I went. I put myself out there and I really tried to be a part. And in doing this, I finally assured myself that there's nothing wrong with not being a part. And there's nothing really too horribly wrong with partying either, I guess. I'm just not a socialite. To finally find peace on an issue that's been troubling me for so long was a nice surprise.

I changed my major to African-American Studies and finally feel somewhat enthused about what I'm studying. I got the piercings that I've always wanted. I saw P.O.S live in concert and got to hug him and freak out, TWICE. I rode my bike in the street! Maybe it wasn't such a bad year...

The thing is, 2010 didn't wrap up too smoothly. I got loose ends like a motherfucker and am still nowhere near stable. As 2011 begins, I don't feel some great slate-wiped sensation. I woke up yesterday with the same problems I had gone to sleep with the day before. It's a new year, yes. But I'm not declaring a "new me," because I don't know what the fuck that means. Instead, I will hope with everything I have for the strength to continue trying to forge a better me.

This is life. It gives us the greatest joy and then snatches it away without warning or apology. It forces us to our knees in the hopeless darkness of defeat and then introduces us to the sun. It's wonderful. It's horrible. But foreverandeverandever, the shit will go on.

Kanye West's "Monster."

2010-12-31T01:00:00.005-05:00

So I just watched the leaked "Monster" video. I don't even want to post it here because they'll probably all be pulled off the web by tomorrow, but here's some links: 1, 2, 3.

Apparently this video made everybody jizz in their pants. Then they gladly told me all about it. Then I watched it. And now I resemble this:

Do you see this troubled soul? Too many issues to address, not enough time to do it, and an audience who's attention is waning as I type. These are the problems I face. So let me hit y'all with some bullet points.

+ I love Nicki. I love Kanye. I am in love with Jay-Z. But I am also entitled to my opinion.

+ My very first unedited thought: "Y'all are drawlin'. Niggas actin' like you never seen zombies before. Shit."

+ How LATE was this shit? Monster's been blasting through speakers in the streets for months... months! It bothers me when an artist puts out a video for a song the moment after the song's buzz ends. The rest of MBDTF is pretty much better than this so I'm just wondering why. Now I didn't watch the film (no, I really didn't) so I don't know if any of these were covered, but where's the So Appalled video? Blame Game? ALL OF THE LIGHTS?! Damn it man!

+ Really? Was this whole thing not totally expected?

+ ...No, really. Right down to the two Nickis. Not one surprise.

+ Fame, death, symbolism, illuminati, "it's deep," fuck you.

Really, the video just felt empty to me. Empty, predictable, based in shock value (and doing it wrong), rushed even. And why the FUCK do they keep allowing Nicki Minaj to rock that ridiculous goddamn plastic-looking wet-n-wavy lacefront?! That honestly took the entire production's quality down about 5% for me. Yeah I said it!

And finally, when it comes to zombiefied rap videos, Aesop Rock did it waaaay better...

...That is all.

Fragments.

2010-12-16T23:44:00.003-05:00

I've been not-finishing a lot of questionable poetry lately...

This is
the emotional equivalent
of spitting in my face.

Utter disrespect and
betrayal.

So yeah, I'm still mad.

________________________

I paid for this time so I guess these moments aren't stolen but wholly accounted for.

________________________

i just assume you don't remember what you said that night you were drunk and if you do remember then that knowledge would be between us
and every time i saw you i would have to think about it and even though i still do, it's like i don't

________________________

I feel a little more pain and a little less able
a little more Cain and a little less Abel...

________________________

High as fuck.
Coughin' up stuff.
I'm really sexy.

But you.
Goddamn.
You think I'm sexy.

Happy Birthday Hair.

2010-12-14T03:06:00.004-05:00

If you're gonna watch one of these, I'd say go for the second one. If you're gonna watch both, you're amazing.

WOOOOOO!

6. Biffle.

2010-12-14T02:17:00.006-05:00

I was feeling a little anxious about writing this post, because it's supposed to be about my best friend, and I'm never one who's able to explain myself in a timely or understandable manner, especially when it comes to things like friendship. But then one night it came to me in a moment of clarity.

I have four best friends. We're not a crew, these are four individual relationships. Ricardo, Cheyenne, Lucy, Muffin. I love them all in vastly different yet equally magnificent ways.

And that's all you really need to know.

There Will Be Blood.

2010-11-28T21:03:00.001-05:00

I'm doing quite well with these "regular" blog updates, obviously...

The next three weeks are gonna be hell. Papers, presentations, finals. Help me.

My plan is to pull my hood up, put my head down, and go the fuck in. What else is there to do? My scholarship and belief in myself hang in the balance so I gotta get it.

Thirty sweet days of friend-seeing, music-making, book-reading, self-centering vacation are the blazing light at the end of the tunnel.

Lehgo I guess.

Fuck Your Status.

2010-11-14T22:28:00.003-05:00

Disturbing new trend on Facebook: status games. These mass dick-slurping events have been plaguing my newsfeed for the past couple of months, and I'm tired of it.

It started with "truth is." An opportunity for people to be "honest" with each other... Right. Everybody practiced some good ol' yearbook-style deep-throating and told each other how truthfully great they all were. I sat back and watched, swallowing bile.

Then there was "why wassup?" Hopefully, this was the peak. It literally went, write a person's name and then list generic good qualities, adding a question mark to each as a playful way of implying that all these "facts" about them are well-known. Bob? Cool guy? Good-looking? Great friend? Yeah I know him, why wassup? This time I just kept a bucket by my laptop for the spurts of vomit.

Now there's "inbox me a question and I'll answer it in a status." Opening the door for the most pointless, repetitive, annoying sequence yet. Would you date me? When are we gonna hang out? Do you know how awesome you are? ...Shut. the fuck. up. I'm banging my head against the wall.

People, please. It's kinda sick how much joy you extract from rubbing up against everyone else's egos in exchange for a few strokes on yours.

5. "To the Parent/Guardian of CQA."

2010-11-10T18:35:00.003-05:00

Dear Mom,

You are the best parent I could have ever asked for, but since we can't choose our parents I know that I'm simply blessed to have you. You're amazing. Thank you for raising me right while always allowing me the freedom to be my own person. I love you more than anything else in the world.

Dear Dad,

I'm thankful for the way you help out my mom these days, even though sometimes I think it's the absolute least you can do considering the past. I really do love you and I only hope things get better for you, and that I can let go of more of my anger towards you as time goes on. P.S, Thanks for the bike!

4. This Is What I Listen To When...

2010-11-09T22:56:00.005-05:00

...I want to dance in the mirror and laugh.

Bouncin' Back (Bumpin' Me Against the Wall), Mystikal

...I feel like I'll never find peace.

Last Call, Doomtree

...I need stimulation.

beautiful.morning, Alex Ludovico

...all I'm doing is winning.

Envy, Nicki Minaj

...I want to rip things apart.

Paul Kersey to Jack Kimball, P.O.S

3. Word Up!

2010-11-03T10:23:00.000-04:00

Crazy eventful weekend + sleeping it off Monday & Tuesday = late post. My fault.

I'm goddamn tired of reading the same Batman, Spiderman, Superman, etc. posts. Even when someone does deviate from the norm it's still usually some comic book person who's been done to death and I'm not really for that.

So, who's my favorite superhero?
...WORDGIRL!

If all she did were give definitions, she'd be lame. But no. Wordgirl has all the standard superpowers: flying, laser eyes, stuper strength, all that shit. She just CHOOSES to bless the world with her limitless vocabulary as well. I love it.

She's a ten-year-old girl who flies around with her pet monkey whooping ass and comes home to play with her collection of unicorn dolls. I love it even more.

Plus, she's Black! I mean, she's from the planet Lexicon, but I'ma just call her African-Lexiconian then. We need more Black superheroes!

I've always felt a connection to Wordgirl because I, like her, have been known as a living dictionary amongst my friends for as long as I can remember. If only I had superpowers...

And did you listen to that theme song?! Please!

So, yeah. I love Wordgirl. Problem? Fight me.

2. Damn It!

2010-10-28T22:03:00.001-04:00

A habit I wish I didn't have? FUCK there's a lot of those. The two main ones that have messed me up the most in life are my part-inability, part-unwillingness to talk about my feelings, and my extreme procrastination. Oh, maybe this whole self-hate thing I got going on too. That can't be healthy.

I don't know if I'm supposed to elaborate on this... I could. But I always elaborate. Let me keep this one short.

1. Act Like You Know.

2010-10-25T18:21:00.004-04:00

Today marks the beginning of my and Laila's second 30-entry series. Every three days we'll be hitting you with the good shit. We compiled our topics from various "30 days of blogging" lists and added our own ideas, and I think we've come up with a bunch of cool stuff to write about.

Today, a recent picture of myself and fifteen "interesting" facts about me.

1. I will have a year-long messaging session with someone on Facebook before I ever sign on to chat with them. I just really, really, REALLY hate Facebook chat. Can we bring back AIM please? I actually like AIM now...

2. Aviator sunglasses make EVERYONE look like assholes. This isn't a fact about me but a cold, hard fact about life. Yes, I'm talking about you, too. No exceptions.

3. I've had one pointless hookup in my life. It involved ten seconds of making out, him pulling out his penis, and me laughing at him for expecting me to do anything with said penis. From that, I learned that pointless hookups are kinda fun but not really worth anything else. Also there are white guys out there with really big dicks. Um.

4. I can smell elitism from miles away, and it sincerely grosses me out. Far too many people I know have the scent clinging on them. Take a shower in reality!

5. When I was a wee little youngboul, I used to secretly eat dry cat food as a snack.

6. I really would like to get married. I'ma have to wait a long time though.

7. I have this thing about knowing all the people who know all the people I know. So usually when I meet someone through a friend, I'm not really meeting them. I know stuff about people's lives well before they even know my name... Creepy!

8. I am just BAD at communication, and I apologize. Unless we're on the phone or in person, you have to understand that I might just forget I'm talking to you and/or fall asleep in the middle of our conversation. When I text and someone asks me a question like "How was your day?" I answer without the polite "And you?"s that keep conversation going. It's not because I'm not interested, I just figure you should know that I am interested since I am talking to you and all... Anyway. Forgive me and my awkwardness.

9. I never tell anyone anything that I'm not comfortable with their best friend(s) knowing as well.

10. It doesn't take much to make me cry. But it takes an unfathomable amount for me to cry in front of someone. Even my best friend. Even my mom. I just can't do it.

11. I'm a member of an online dating site. Yeah.

12. One of my secret (not anymore) goals in life is to wink at a man and totally mean it.

13. It is quite difficult for me to fall asleep in anything less than complete silence and complete darkness. I know this won't serve me well in life.

14. Sometimes I'm still amazed by how many white folk there are.

15. People really do come and go, and though I haven't totally come to terms with this, I don't think the solution is to love them any less. *shrug*

Stay tuned!

Musical Musings.

2010-09-27T22:06:00.006-04:00

El-P remixed Justin Bieber. And iDied. As you know, I don't hate Justin Bieber, but I fucking love El-P. So this... this shit right here... Ohhhhh.

I contest, again, that Dyme-A-Duzin is finna blow up, sooner rather than later. This kid is just way too good, and way too young, and did I mention how fucking GOOD he is? I'm not even worried that he's not gonna make it big. I'm just worried that y'all aren't gonna give me credit for calling it. I'll be writing about him more because I still don't think you understand.

...Naw, for real, stop playin'. Dymez is that crack.

Alex Ludovico's d.o.a. > your favorite rapper's.

Beyond Imagination is the most slept-on Kelly Rowland song in history, with possibly the most sadly beautiful lyrics she's ever sung.

Also. I know that club-type music is the new big thing, but fuck y'all trying to recruit me. NIZZ. There's only so many ways to remix the same "un-tss un-tss un-tss" beat, and I like a bit more variation in my music. Substance, too. So yeah.

Return.

2010-09-20T21:49:00.001-04:00

Time is a motherfucker. I turn my head and a month has flown by. It felt like a week. It felt like a year.

This is probably a bad time for me to start blogging again. I'm not in a very good mood. I've been at school for a few weeks and don't have internet in my room yet, so I'm typing this in the lounge, recently invaded by a 17-person (I counted) calculus study group. Ugh.

But I'm here because I need to be here.

I don't know why people rag on age 19 like they do. "It's nothing special. You don't get to do anything new," they say. Well I disagree. Being 19 is pretty profound for me. 18, you know, that was hype. 19 is chill. 19 is settled. 19 is the last "teen." That freaks me out a little bit. But I won't be hitting the big 2-0 for another ten months or so, so let's not worry about that. Now, I feel established. I'm a college sophomore and this lifestyle doesn't feel so unfamiliar anymore. I know what I'm in for.

And what's really helped me is that I finally have a grasp on who my real friends are. I could make a list and write it down if I had to. And it's a short list, but I don't mind. There is such peace in knowing who is there for you. And in examining my friendships I've also (almost) come to terms with the fact that everybody can't be my friend. It just doesn't work like that. I put effort into keeping in touch with those who do good things for my heart. The rest? I'll see you when I see you.

Sometimes I still feel like I'm missing out on the whole "social scene" deal. A lot of the time, actually. I've gone to one party this year so far, only because my friend needed a tag-along. On the weekends I wonder where I could be if I were more socially adept. But... Why try to be someone I'm not?

Eh. I can't deal with this half-gossip, half-complex mathematics chatter any longer. It's coming through my headphones. I'm out for now. This has been yet another return to blogging by yours truly. Be back soon, pinky promise.

Intrusive Thoughts: Romance.

2010-08-20T04:26:00.006-04:00

Every day I say to myself, "Fuck. All I think about is romance. I'm a fucking cliché." Sad but true. I mean, it's not all I think about, but it creeps into almost everything somehow. I've decided to begin to distinguish between love and romance because romance is a type of love, and I don't feel right saying "love" when I'm not talking about everything I think love is. Aaanyway...

Do I write romantic poetry? Yeah. Do I cry during romantic movies? Sometimes. Do I spend my days imagining the perfect relationship for myself? Oh fuck, do I. Romance is something that really embodies that "limitless possibilities" essence of life and just thinking about if I'll end up with somebody and who it'll be and when and how and everything! It's enough to make my blood tingle, at least.

I believe in soulmates, but not in the traditional sense(whoa, déjà vu, have I said this before?). I don't think we all have one soulmate; that's too illogical and tragic for me to believe. I think we have many possible soulmates... Think about that person you met two years ago, or just today. You hardly knew them, but you felt so connected. You wanted to tell them everything because you think they might understand, and you wanted to know everything about them too. But then... it just didn't work out. You never saw them again. Or you saw them, but it was never in a place where you could really try to get to know them. It takes time and effort to forge a friendship, and you were short on both. Whatever. People like that, I think, are possible soulmates. You might subconsciously keep a list of them in the back of your mind, I know I do. They could have been your best friend, or the person you married, or both. But now they're gone, and you'll never know them like you really want to. It kinda sucks. People say soulmates are so rare because it's so rare to actually form that connection with someone, you'd never really know. When it comes down to doing what it takes to have a relationship where you can realize that a person is your soulmate, perhaps some only have the capacity for one. I don't think I'm like that, though. My best friend is my soulmate and I feel so lucky to know him and to have made that connection, but I don't think it's wrong to hope, and not only hope but to try to form similar connections with other people.

Do I think I may have met any romantic soulmates already? Do I think any of the guys I know now could be the one I'm going to walk down the aisle with in however many years? Well... Maybe. The idea of monogamy has always been very strong in my mind so when I was younger and I had a crush, that person was the only one I saw. Even though I never said anything to the person, in my mind I was steadfastly attached and wouldn't even think of anyone else. Weird ass. These days, I understand the concept of "options" and I'm really interested in just getting to know people, perhaps finding a potential soulmate, even if we only ever amount to friends. I need some fucking friends, shit. But yeah... I know some very nice young gentleman, I'm realizing, and there are a lot of nice young gentleman that I could get to know, too, if I stop being such a dingbat. So um... Haaay y'all. Lol.

But then the little me chimes in saying that that's some old bullshit. I know who I like. Crushes, yeah, I can daydream about 'em, but at the end of the day if a certain person came forward with a ring in a box and said "Let's do this," I'd be down without hesitation. Yeah, I'm admitting this. Somebody out there has got me like that. The difference is, now I don't let that hold me back from other possibilities.

Meh. Romance is a universal struggle. People can act as "Fuck love" as they want but when that one comes around, lives are known to change. I want that. I need that. I'm patiently waiting.

I Can't Escape the Music.

2010-08-13T01:21:00.011-04:00

I found your pale-faced, blue-lipped God beneath the kitchen table, starving and eating paper. Showed me what you wrote and what you'd asked, love.

Nothing can live on prayers like that, love.

Intrusive Thoughts: The Party Conundrum.

2010-08-12T02:10:00.005-04:00

[Yes, I do enjoy finding these sad ass pictures for my blog.]

Y'all know I'm not a partier. So when I get myself up and go to something, I tend to make a big deal about it. I understand that by now everybody's jaded as fuck, but every party is really an experience for me, and I learn something each time.

I used to think that people went to parties to have fun. I used to think the lifeblood of the party was music, and its optimal habitat the dance floor. How naïve of me! Now I know. The lifeblood of the party is booze, and its optimal habitat anywhere the booze can be found. I'm not hating, I'm just a little... regretful of that fact. Parties have become less a place for fun, and more a place to participate in this weird, complex social interaction. Let me explain.

Every party is generally the same, but always minutely different and you go because you just have to know what happens at this one. You'd be sitting in the house bored as fuck if you didn't go, and being a little less bored as fuck around other people trumps that. And most importantly, you have to be seen.

I know all this second-person perspective is making me sound accusatory, so let me backtrack. The number one characteristic I've observed in party people is anticipation. Everybody's waiting for something to happen, from the small: bumping into someone and engaging in casual chitchat, a song you really like coming on, a beerpong challenge, to the not-so-small: scoring a random hookup, someone getting too twisted and acting an ass, a fight breaking out, the police shutting it down. There's this tension in the air and this invisible pressure on everybody from everybody else to just do something. And usually, eventually, someone delivers.

Back to my point. People go to parties to be seen. I mean that in the literal sense and in another sense. What brings people together in these cramped, hot, loose-with-liquor functions is the connection. Imagine a game of "six degrees of separation." Everyone there, even if you've never met them, is connected to you somehow. They might not know you, but they know someone who knows someone who knows you. Know'msayin? And that feeling is exhilarating. You're there because, omg, someone knows you. Probably more than one person, in fact. Your existence is validated and you belong. That feels good.

On the other hand, parties are usually a draining reminder of how fake everyone can be, and I think this is displayed by a lack of dancefloor. Any party without a dancefloor, an ACTIVE dancefloor, is not my type of party. It shows me that this place is full of people "too cool" to dance. It's partly my fault. I should be less shy and just start shaking my ass, and someone will join me, right? Well, I don't think so. It's kinda hard to shake your ass when the room is crowded with people just standing there watching each other. And when someone does try to catch a groove on some serious shit, does anyone join? Naw. They just watch, and laugh. Because no one's willing to take off their cool.

You might walk past someone five times before they acknowledge you're there. I don't really know why, but that shit rubs me the wrong way. I know you saw me motherfucker! Haa. I'm the type to say hi or wave and shoot a nod or at the least SMILE whenever I see anyone I'm friendly with. So it throws me off when after hellos, a person doesn't speak to me for the rest of the night, not because they don't see me, but because after I've seen them the first time, it's already acknowledged that we're both there and that's all that matters. Es em aych!

But, I've gone to a few parties, and I'll keep going. Not as frequently as most, but once in a while it is nice. I'm not exempt. I do like the connection. I do like seeing people, and sometimes I like people to see me. Occasionally there will be a truly poppington dancefloor, and that just makes me smile. So, I go, too.

I find this inexhaustibly interesting, think about it a lot, and could write on it forever. I mean. I could be overanalyzing and talking crazy again. This is all from the point-of-view of someone extremely cynical who attends parties dolo, doesn't drink 99% of the time, and usually leaves early. If I'm wrong about all this, let me know.

Intrusive Thoughts: Here Comes The Fall.

2010-08-09T23:54:00.004-04:00

This is the first of a few of those "running up on my brain, sticking a gun in its back, and taking it for everything it's got" entries. Me and Laila are supposed to start a new 30-day series soon but I'ma just wait for her to tell me when she's ready, because I have a lot to write until then.

Summer's over, basically. Move-in day is in two weeks and today I went down to good ol' Temple U and got all my stuff in order. I still need over $3000 to pay for the shit and it's looking like a loan for me. I'm thankful it's not more but it still bites.

All my thoughts about everything have been mixing together and culminating into this heart-stopping anxiety about school. Academically, I HAVE to get my grades up. That doesn't seem so hard until I begin to think about all the things that fucked me up last year.

I tweeted about my big goals in life. Ace this year. Graduate respectably. Teach For America. Peace Corps. I was looking at the Teach For America application, and just as I feared they want what everybody wants... "leadership" and "ambition." On these types of applications those qualities are quantified by extracurricular activities, community service, and all the other things I lack in.

I'm not lazy. I just have crippling fears of both social interaction and failure that keep me from doing... anything. It's funny to realize that I can boldly travel the dangerous parts of my city on foot and public transportation in all hours of the night, but I start sweating if someone even makes eye contact with me. My academic advisor told me that I need a support system. I need to network. I know these things. But how am I to build a support system when I can't even talk to people?

It's the same shit. And I'm still working on it. And I'm still making tiny steps in the right direction even when it feels like there's a hurricane blowing me backwards. I'm just worried that as much as I plan to try, it won't be enough. I'm too good at defeating myself. I'm too susceptible to my own emotions and I know how I get!

And I know that if enough people tell me it's gonna be okay, I'll believe it. I just need to reach out. I need to be less cynical and less antisocial and... blah.

It all boils down to...
The Problem: My academic livelihood is indelibly tied to my emotional well-being which is all wrongly tangled-up in my social status. I get lonely and bitter and fall into unspeakable depression where nothing matters to me, especially schoolwork.
The Solution: ...Don't fuck up this time.

*shrug*

What Do You Think Of Me Now?

2010-08-02T20:41:00.000-04:00

[sidenote: I had to start moderating comments because spambots were trying to take over leaving dozens of comments about Louboutin shoes and Hermes purses. I had to nip that shit in the bud. So don't think I'm screening out people who disagree with me or anything.]

CaasiQuinneAnderson.bandcamp.com is LIVE!

Well, it's done. I turned 19. I released my mixtape. This has been one of the most wonderful experiences in my life. All the positive enegry I've received has floored me and I can't say "Thank you" enough.

But now... I want feedback. That's not too much to ask, right? I really would like to know what people think. So I'm asking you, yes YOU reading this right now, because 9/10 if you're reading this then you also downloaded my mixtape, to tell me what you think about it.

If you can't think of anything think of these to get the ball rolling... What's your favorite track? Least favorite? Why'd you download? Was it worth it? Do I remind you of anyone rapping-wise? What do I need to work on?

Be critical with me. Is it ard? Is it better than ard? Is it ass? I want to know. Act like you don't know me and write an honest logical review. Remember you do know me and tell me how your heart feels. You can say anything anonymously so there's no need to hold back. Tell me. Tell me now!

*impatiently waits for comments*

Tonight's The Night.

2010-07-28T22:38:00.006-04:00

At 3-something this morning I put into action the final step before the final final step of releasing my mixtape: the facebook event. I wrote up a little something and I selected 100+ people I know and requested that they all download. And since then I've been pissing my pants. I'm really going nuts over here with doubt and worry. I have less than two hours until I place my lyrical self on a platter and offer me up to the world. And quite honestly... I'm afraid the the world is going to rip me apart.

There's all this illogical shit going through my head: What if not even one person likes it? What if people don't like it but pretend they do only when I'm around and talk about it and laugh at me behind my back? What if I'm walking down the street and a piano falls on my head? ...Stuff like that. Lol. These thoughts are dumb. I know that at least one person will like it, probably more. But still, I'm just... scared.

I don't know what people are expecting from me. But I know what I'm putting out. It's... a lot. A lot of different beats, a lot of different subject matter. All me. I started doing this not out of a desire to entertain others, but of desire to have release for myself. I needed to get some stuff off my chest, which is also the reason why I can't just record and keep it to myself. I'm not too scared to release it. That's all that matters.

I know how much this means to me. From writing my little boredom verses to pouring my heart out on tracks, this has been a journey. I had to teach myself everything as I went along which made it all the more meaningful. I know how much of myself I'm putting out. It's scary but it's probably the coolest thing I've ever done. I might surprise someone, I might even offend someone, but I still need to do this because... I'm tired of hiding.

www.CaasiQuinneAnderson.bandcamp.com

OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD... Ahem. See you at midnight.

PAST MIDNIGHT EDIT: Bandcamp's taking a while. The backup link is here. I'm still freaking out.

The ORaCLes.

2010-07-24T20:33:00.000-04:00

"We’re no forecasters, but we can tell you there’s a wave coming. Might be in your best interest, upon arrival, not to be on the crashing end of it."

The Only Right Clothing Line is not news to me. I spent years in school with some of its core members and have been watching them blossom for a pretty long time. But it just kinda occured to me that not everybody has been put on yet, so it is my responsibility as a dedicated supporter to tell my audience (my incredibly small and incredibly appreciated audience) about them.

So, let me introduce... ORCL:

Now, let me be clear. I hate fashion and I'll surely tell you all about it one day. I'm not writing about fashion right now because ORCL is not just a fashion line. I definitely appreciate their aesthetics and their desire to de-whackify Philadelphia's dress game, but what I appreciate even more are the ideologies that the brand is founded upon. Let me give you a taste...

"It’s not always about sparking up business matters and being in the lead as far as moves made, sometimes it’s just about a connection. Enjoying the company of the folks who you have something in common with, and if not then finding a middle ground... Venn Diagrams."

"We represent positivity in a society that’s leading so many of us down a path of negativity. We have the potential to be the voice of a culture of young people who have a voice that should be heard. As we grow we pick and choose our battles and the ones we choose should be battles that can change ourselves and others. While you may not like every article of clothing we make or might not be able to see yourself wearing some of the stuff we make; we encourage you to make something that you will like. We all have a creativity inside of ourselves so why not let loose and make something happen."

"Trust, we’re not taking anything for granted. Every, click, view, comment and order is appreciated and seen as progress. Not too long ago were we just discussing this idea. As the beautiful red sign says, in the small occasional skate park located by city hall, this my friends is “L.O.V.E.”

Believe me. These young men are not out to get your money, send you a shirt, and go. They want to change your world. I stand behind ORCL because I know that there is quality and positive energy within everything they do. Peruse their website, read their blog, you'll see what I mean. These guys have better-than-good heads on their shoulders and it's obvious to me that they're headed for great success. I am very proud to say that I know them.

I can understand why this brand has grown to mean so much to the people involved because it's grown to mean just as much to me. Though I've never input design ideas, participated in a photoshoot, or handed out a business card, I feel like I'm a part of the ORCL team. I believe in what they stand for--embracing one's self and using the magic inside to benefit others. There is nothing more beautiful than that. It's... Well, shit, you know what I'm gonna say... It's only, motherfucking, RIGHT.

Another Year of THIS?

2010-07-24T13:49:00.006-04:00

I almost went and spilled my soul on Twitter in a thousand little bits before I remembered I have a blog where there is no character limit.

I'm thinking about my birthday. In five days I'll be 19 years old. That's cool. But there's a lot swirling around in my mind and heart about this. Amongst all the different feelings, the most prominent is dread.

What I tweeted: If just one person besides my mom and Cheyenne remembers, I'll be happy. I'm so convinced that it won't be special. I'll release my mixtape and then just sit around the house all day. I don't know why.

But I kinda do know why. I'm telling myself that I'm just going to do nothing on my birthday because I know that I'm still feeling the pain from last year and trying to avoid it. This year, I'd rather not give people the chance to show me they don't care.

When I turned 18, I was super excited about it, as you may remember. And to sum the day up... It sucked. My 18th birthday comes in as the fourth worst day of my entire life so far, right after number three, my senior prom. Huh? What? I know you have no idea what I'm talking about. I know this sounds dramatic. I wish I could explain, but these are stories I can never tell on this blog. At least not now, not when the wounds still feel so fresh.

Now, rather than fearing that no one will remember my birthday, worrying that I won't be having fun, hoping that I don't end up presentless, anticipating the shock of realizing again that I mean nothing to most people, I'm just assuming that these things are guaranteed to happen and trying to prepare myself for the hurt.

I'm writing, but it's not helping. There's just too much to leave out, too much I'm unable to elaborate on. I recently lost two of the best friends I ever had, did I mention that? And it's all connected. I didn't need to tweet about this. I don't need to blog about it, either. I need to talk to someone. But... who?

Ugh. I'm going to paint my nails and watch the Friday movies and try to laugh and not be so sad.

Ten Little Epiphanies.

2010-07-22T23:01:00.003-04:00

Kid Cudi is the voice of my generation. And I don't really like him because I don't really like my generation.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Togetherness makes the heart snap the fuck out of it.

There is nothing wrong with being a recluse in this day and age of attention whores.

Sometimes a little jealousy is all you need to let you know what you really want.

I think of my own death as someone normal would think of going on vacation-- When am I gonna have time to do this? What am I gonna need to do to prepare? How much is this thing gonna cost? Who's gonna water my plants when I'm gone?

Money is how those with no purpose keep score.

I'm better at fixing things after I fuck up than I am at doing them right the first time.

Folk'll always give you a reason not to like ‘em.

It is way more difficult to find very intelligent people than it is to find very beautiful ones.

I ask myself, "Can you stop being a crazy stalker for one minute?" And the answer, clear as day, crystallizes in my mind... "No."

Vlog: I Quit Smoking.

2010-07-18T05:28:00.005-04:00

HAPPY NOW, MOTHERFUCKERS?! I damn sure am NOT.

*twitches like a crackhead*

I really don't know how long this is gonna last.

Lil Wayne, Weezy F Baby, Dwayne Carter... CAM'RON 2.0!

2010-07-17T00:19:00.016-04:00

Let me tell you how I've had this draft sitting in the vault since November. I had the idea way before then and have been buuullshittin' about finishing it for about as long. It might not be as relevant now, but the time has come.

So, uh... Lil Wayne is the new Cam'ron. I say it. I mean it. And I'm here to back it up. Let me enlighten you...

1. The Following.
I remember years ago reading an article in Vibe magazine about Dipset fans. In short, them muhfuckas were CRAZY! People were sooo into Dipset it was ridiculous. People with Dipset tats, chains, everything but the damn record contract. People adopting Juelz Santana-like mannerisms and language (AYE!) because it attracted girls. People repping so hard for a crew they surely weren't a part of and in most cases had never even met. Remind you of anything?

Yes. Young Money now = Dipset then. A bunch of useless mofos riding the coattails of the few talented ones in the crew, with millions of fans clamoring for room to ride on the collective penis. Stop me if I'm lying... Oh ard.

2. Juelz Santana.

Cam'ron and Juelz on a track together was almost a guaranteed hit back in the day, and these days(Well, "these days" a couple of years ago. I told you I've been sitting on this for a while!) Santana and Weezy do the same. I Can't Feel My Face was all the buzz in hip-hop until everyone realized it wasn't gonna actually happen. I'm sure there's someone out there still hoping for it, and I'm more than sure that there are people still bumping the few tracks that they did produce. My point here is that being musical besties with Juelz Santana is another similarity that Cam'ron and Wayne share.

3. Nonsensical Lyrics That You Somehow Can't Resist.
Now, come on. Do I even have to explain this one? I guess.
Click it. CLICK IT!
Cam'ron: My team is the Goonies, we were seen with buffoonies/Toonies, best dressed, stay up in Neiman's and Bloomies/Wanna hit it from the back, she agreed that I'm loony/But proceeded to moon me/I'm gettin' money nigga! -Get Em Girls

Me who? Please boo, landin' in that G2/Same color as beef stew/Favorite letters: GQ/That's me true, peace blue, Hebrew.
-Lord You Know

Wayne: I'm rare like Mr. Clean with hair/No brake lights on my car-reer/I never had life and I never had fear/I rap like I done died and gone to heaven I swear/I'm a bear like black and white hair so I'm polar/And you can't get on my system cuz my system is the solar.
-Phone Home

Probably in the sky flying with the fishes/Or maybe in the ocean swimming with the pigeons/See my world is different, like Dwayne Wade/And if you want trouble, bitch I want the same thang.
-Sky's The Limit

These might not be the best examples but these are the ones I think of off the dome. Forgive me for not feeling like going through their entire catalogs, but if you've been nodding your head as you read this then you already knew what I was talking about anyway. These guys have some of the most ridiculous lines in the history of hip-hop, and fans just can't get enough. Shit, y'all know I love me some Wayne. And I like Cam too. It's undeniably entertaining! It takes talent to make bullshit sound profound, and I feel like Wayne grabbed those "I'ma just say some stuff" reins from Cam'ron and ran with 'em.

4. Controversy!
I'm adding this one six hours after I originally published the post because... It's my blog and I can do that. Rappers are known to create controversy, but none have done it quite like Killa Cam and Lil Tunechi. These guys in their respective days (Cam'ron in the late 90's and early 2000's and Wayne now) had hip-hop aficionados of all ages, colors, and everything elses up in arms over their music. Sorta like with the Twilight books for literature enthusiasts, hip-hop heads are divided into two rabid camps, one loving the artist in question to the point where they have almost demigod status, and one hating them so much that you'd think they had committed some crime against each hater's family. In the glory days of Dipset, there were always some yelling "Those niggas garbage!" amongst those rockin' pink furs and bandanas tied around their eyes. And today, the Young Money crew gets just as much love and hate. The similarities are just... so similar! Lol.

Do I believe that Wayne will disappear into oblivion one day sparking "Where is Weezy?" parody videos like Cam'ron did? Probably not. But if he ever does, then my point will only be more solidified. Wayne is Cam'ron. I am Caasi. That is all.

Words.

2010-07-12T00:17:00.003-04:00

Don’t walk in front of me, I may not follow.
Don’t walk behind me, I may not lead.
Don’t walk beside me. Don’t be my friend.
Just leave me the fuck alone. These words are all I need.

I live the life of an outcast screaming FUCK THE WORLD but I still wanna be included so I whisper it instead. Walk around with my shoulders bent to the ground 'cause I got a ten-thousand-pound weight resting on my head. I can hardly straight walk, my kinesthetic system is all fucked, I got bad luck. Saw my dreams ride away on the back of a pickup truck and I tried to chase 'em, tripped over my own feet, fell down and sprained my ankle. Spent 13 hours in the emergency room for an ace bandage and some aspirin. Popped the pills and said,
“Thank you.”

Can I Borrow A Dollar?

2010-07-09T12:41:00.009-04:00

Broke is lacking money for the things you want. Poor is lacking money for the things you need. I am not poor. I'm blessed enough to say I've never been poor... maybe borderline, but I've never known what it's like not to have food or a home. For that I am truly thankful. That said, I know I don't really have anything to complain about, but... Fuck it!

As of right now, I have $48.03 for the rest of... my life. Couple that with my $2.00 a day smoking habit and shit is looking BLEAK. I can just hear people now... "You need to stop smoking anyway!"... Hey. Shut the fuck up.

My cell phone is prepaid. Again, shut up. I have 102 minutes left. That's... not a lot. It'll probably be less by the time you read this. This phone is the respirator to my barely-alive social life! Without it I fear I won't ever get out of the house. Can I spare the minimum $10 ($10.80 with tax) to add a pitiful 35 minutes to what I have? And if I do, how long will it even last? I don't know.

This happens to me a lot. I've never timed it but it's definitely a cycle. I have money--and I'm not dumb with my money! I stretch dough as far as possible but everything runs out eventually--and then I don't. But right when I'm at my last dollar, something happens and I get some more money. My birthday comes. Christmas comes. Tax refund checks come. It's always worked like that. But these days, I just don't have time to wait for the cycle to complete itself. EVERYTHING I want and EVERYTHING I want to do requires cash, now. A new camera, a nice dinner with friends, seeing Toy Story 3, my piercings! I can't do anything until I get my money right.

Every dollar counts. Every PENNY counts. I'm used to being broke but it just gets harder as I get older... Everyone I know has a job, so even though "the economy is bad" I can only blame myself for my unemployment.

...Guess I gotta do something about this, huh?

I Can't Escape the Music.

2010-07-07T23:14:00.014-04:00

(...the series formerly known as "Lyrics Lately.")

When life gives you lemons, EAT 'EM, FUCK IT/Grind the pulp between your teeth and spit the seeds in a bucket/Use the acid from the juice to make some napalm in your room/Send the napalm to the White House. Crawl back in the fucking womb. -Thank You From The Bottom of My Fuck You, Cenospecies

You did what he asked you to do/You opened your heart up, right there on a napkin on the carpet/And part of it was frostbit, but you've always been a smart kid/Could still distinguish the blood black as pitch/Valves had gone stiff, veins and scar tissue/Four chambers, just a standard-issue/But none had room. Forgiveness is HUGE/And you had two full of icewater, one full of salt, one packed with coal/Eager and ready and willing to find fault. -Mineshaft II, Dessa

It wasn't even like that/I wanted my cardiovascular to fight back/Cupid had me runnin' circles blindfolded/In the daytime with a flashlight lookin' for her/Yo, sit back, relax and smell the roses/A fly girl by any other name would still be that/But the trick is to see that/I'm caught in between futures' fantasies and memories I played back/Told my man I started sword fighting/'Cause fencing was similar to tongue-kissing/If you wait too long you gonna end up confessin'/All I think about is you, undressin'. -The F Word, Cannibal Ox

[UPDATE]: Oh, shit, I forgot. LOOK!

Catch up if you're confused...Now can I tell you how I cried when I saw this? I am so not worthy! Aaaaah.

Tryna Get Chose.

2010-07-05T23:20:00.004-04:00

You know what? I really want to fall in love. And... I should stop feeling like there's something wrong with that. It's not abnormal to want someone to share that special bond with. And, I do. I mean, I really do. I'm past the whole "single and happy" thing. I've been single for about five years now. Single without any casual dating, without any "talking," with hardly even any friends of the opposite sex. So right about now, I'm ready. And it's not desperation. If I were desperate, I could've been with a whole slew of random niggas by now, believe me. But no, my desire is for something deeper and better than that.

When I was little, I thought I was THE SHIT. You could not tell me otherwise. I was cute and smart and I knew it and that was that. Then I turned nine and got fat and you know the rest of that story. Years of being the fat girl taught me to desexualize myself. Nobody would want me, so there was no need to act like they would. I was afraid to befriend guys because I didn't want them to talk about me and how horrible I looked when I wasn't around(This fear still persists today, I can count my straight male friends on one hand.). I never dressed "sexy" or even in a way that was flattering to my body, even if it was a little (...a lot) plump. I look at pictures of myself back then and can just see the insecurity in the loose & shapelessness of my clothes. It makes me sad.

That's all changed now. The weight is gone and for the first time in a long time I actually like what I see in the mirror. And I dress like I have some sense! Haa. The physical change was easy compared to the psychological change, which I'm still working on now and probably will for a long time. That was eight years, you know. Eight years of drilling into my own head that no matter how wonderful I was on the inside, no one would ever want me because I was fat and ugly. SIGH.

The first and only real boyfriend I ever had (if we're not counting elementary school, cuz I was straight pimpin' back then) asked me out in the eighth grade. I was surprised as hell since I had long given up the idea that I was anything anybody would place in the eye of their affection. And with my crazy notions that it wasn't real, that I was his last possible option and nothing special at all, that he was only pretending to like me because who could ever really like ME... I fucked up that relationship something major. And after that, I was even more sure that I'd be alone forever, because look what I did when someone actually tried to love me.

But now, I've sorted through those issues. I've learned SO MUCH. I've grown up. And I need someone to let me show them how much I've learned, how good I could be in that "girlfriend" position. And I need that person to show me that I was wrong all those years, that I'm right now in thinking that maybe I could possibly be considered desirable.

I dunno. I sorta told myself that I WOULD get coupled up by this summer's end, but we're already in the middle and I've realized that I had no idea what I was talking about when I said that. I don't know the first thing about "getting a man" and really, I don't want to "get" a man. In a perfect world, I would be close friends with a guy and it would slowly and sweetly develop into romance... Is that what "getting a man" is? Shit, I don't know! Real talk, I've been ready to settle down since I was ten years old. But I know that the world doesn't work like that. So I'm not tryna get married or anything. I just want somebody to snuggle and hold hands and be honest with. I want to be his peace of mind, his refuge, the best thing that ever happened to him... you know?

Ho hum, whatever. You know the game and how it goes... I'm tryna get CHOSE! ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Happy Birthday Kyle! An Open Letter to Alex Ludovico.

2010-07-02T10:52:00.001-04:00

I don’t know if people write fan letters anymore, but I’ma write one...

Dear Kyle,

Um… I hope you don’t mind me calling you Kyle. I mean, I first came to know you as Ill Eagle the MC, then Ill Eagle the Anti-Rapper, and now you go by Alex Ludovico… but I know your name’s Kyle, so... ANYWAY, I promised you this letter about a month ago when you sent my soul to heaven and actually SPOKE TO ME over Facebook one day. I said that I had been writing it in response to a blog you wrote about your frustrations with music and how sometimes you want to quit. ¡Qué lástima! I want you to know that the idea of you quitting sends me spinning into depression. You just can’t! It’s kinda selfish, I guess… I’m upset at the industry for sucking so much cock that it’s making one of my favorite artists want to stop providing me with some of the best music I’ve encountered in my life. That’s pretty selfish, right? But it’s not just that. I’m already a fan, so your position with me is pretty solid. But I can’t allow you to deny all the people who haven’t heard of you yet. Your music has the power to touch people, I believe. So you just gotta keep going… And any time you feel like you shouldn’t, I want you to come back and read this and know that you’re definitely appreciated and needed in this world.

I’m getting ahead of myself. I haven’t even introduced me yet. Hi! I’m Caasi. Some girl in Philly. I go to college, blah blah blah… And I have declared myself your number one fan on the East Coast. Yeah. I would say your number one fan period, but I don’t think I’ve earned that title yet, lol. I decided to wait until your birthday to sit down and finish this, so it could be like a gift, because I’m lame. If I were anywhere near Chicago I would be at the big show you’re having right now. Shit, if I lived anywhere near Chicago, I’d probably be your roadie by now. But sadly, I’m in Philly with nothing but change in my wallet, so the little fantasy I had of coming into money in time to blaze my way to the Windy City did not come to be. For now, this is all I have to offer.

If I could remember where I first came across you, then I would have a viable beginning for this letter, but I don’t. I’ve been wracking my brain for the longest time just trying to remember any small detail of my first encounter with your music, but I can’t. So, as it stands, you dropped out of the sky and into my life sometime in 2006. [Random sidenote: I used to read your blog, your old blog (I think it was called Live Fast Die Fun), where you posted all your favorite music. I remember downloading El-P’s Fantastic Damage and P.O.S’ Audition from that site, and those artists are my two favorites today, so I’ve always been secretly thankful to you for that, too. Heh.]

I have never tried to make a “Top MCs” list because I’m tremendously indecisive, but if someone put a gun to my head and forced me to write down my five favorite rappers, I wouldn’t hesitate to put you on the list. I know it’s semi-blasphemous to put “unknowns” on these types of lists, especially when the “dead or alive” factor comes in, but I don’t give a fuck. I tend to be pretty reckless in my hip-hop tastes, so whatever. I take full responsibility when I say that I like you better than Biggie AND Pac. *waits for sky to fall…* Yeah. I don’t want to try to explain myself and have this letter become a thesis about hip-hop, so I’ma stop right there. Just know. I like you that much.

See, when I say I’m a fan, I mean… I’m a fan. I have listened to all your songs multiple times, can identify most of them within 20 seconds of listening, usually less. I could spit a few back to you, word for word. I attempt to put my friends onto you as often as possible. I STAN for Alex Ludovico… And I don’t do this with all music. I don’t have the time or mental capacity. Only stuff that I really really like gets the honor of my obsession. And your music? I am seriously obsessed. You are 37 of the 100 songs in my “Most Played” list and… that’s a pretty serious accomplishment.

So, why am I obsessed with your music? Well… it’s good! Haha, how anticlimactic. But I mean, it’s actual good music. It’s honest. I connect with it. You’ve never been in my head, but somehow I find my very own thoughts, even the most secret and painful ones, strewn throughout everything you’ve written. I revisit your songs so often because they say everything just right, just how I would say if I knew how. You make the best music for when I’m high, feeling confident, depressed, sexy, pissed off, hopeful, helpless, neutral, ANY TIME. Some days I spend at the very bottom of all feelings, and your music is all I can bear to hear. To know that there’s someone who knows how I feel, who’s been through it… It just means so much to me. And I will always love you(as much as I can love you without actually knowing you) for that.

Speaking of things I love you for… Your music is so different! There is NO other rapper like you, and I mean that. And I appreciate that. Mainstream hip-hop is so... plethora of adjectives that equal to ASS these days, and your music is not simply a breath of fresh air, but a bucketful of cold water to the face. It’s intelligent, creative, and adventurous. Your influences come from all over the damn place, and it all comes through to make some tremendous hip-hop. And as a fan, I can’t ask for much more. Every piece of work of yours sounds different. Listening from The Schizophonic LP to Winning/Losing and the slew of tracks you’re releasing now, I recognize your evolution as an artist. You started out good, you just keep getting better, and this is still only the beginning. I love that! I’m so excited to watch you grow and hear all the excellence that you’re just bound to produce.

I tend to write a hell of a lot, and I don't want reading this to become a chore and not a joy, so hopefully I've said enough. You're always welcome to talk to me again if you want to hear more, ha. This is the part when I threaten my friends to go to your websit e and download your most recent work or I'll kill them. I also suggest that they follow your blog because you release music like it's going out of style and that's the only way to keep up.

Yep. Happy Birthday Kyle! You’ll always have a couch to crash on in Philly. =)

How I Became A Rapper.

2010-06-29T00:00:00.016-04:00

It's June 29th. That means that in exactly one month, I will be nineteen years old. More importantly, it means that in exactly one month, I will be releasing MY VERY FIRST MIXTAPE! Yep, for real. It's happening. I mentioned it first on this very here blog and now my blathering has come to fruition.

I promised myself that if I'm gonna do it, I'm really gonna do it. So that means I need to promote it somehow. In April, I dropped my single. In May, I uploaded the above video on Facebook and Youtube. But it's not like one day I just woke up out of nowhere and said "I'ma put out a mixtape." It's been a pretty long and incredible journey. So today, here I am to give you the in-depth story.

I'll spare you the "I've always loved hip-hop" part because that's kinda implied. Onward to the very first time I publicly rapped... It was out of desperation. I had a big final paper due for AP English and I just did NOT want to do that jawn. I was doing anything to distract myself, and it eventually led me to write a wild 36-bar verse about nothing. And then, well then, I had to record it. And then, of course, I had to upload it on Facebook. It was the pinnacle of my procrastinative (It feels good to make up words.) boredom. People LOVED it. It held the record for most video comments I've ever received until the most recent one took its spot. Still, this is the one that started it all:

[If you can't see this, I'm sorry. The memory card where I think the original file is is lost and I just spent half an hour trying to find a way to download it from FB so I could upload it on youtube. And before you say "greasemonkey," greasemonkey is not working. Sadface. So if we're not friends on FB and you're extremely curious, you can try to add me. Not saying I'll definitely accept you, but still.]

I'm pretty embarrassed watching that now, but hey, we all gotta start somewhere. That was a little over a year ago. I never did do the paper and ended up failing English for the quarter, but I passed for the year AND got "Secret Genius" in the yearbook so whatev! Haaa. Anyway, after I posted that video, all was pretty quiet. Then, I posted another. The second one was entitled "Beef" and I was basically spitting some angry bars coming at invisible opponents, just to relieve stress. I posted that and did the usual obnoxious tagging, and in a few days, my rapping destiny was set before me by one of my closest friends.

Gianna B burst onto the scene with her first video, in the style of the Joey Jihad Reed Dollaz Meek Mill Slaughter Rico angry ass Philly rapper. All her lyrical fury was directed at me, and it was funny as shit! I wish you could see it but she removed the videos from Facebook and I cannot get her to send me the files. Best believe though, it was something to behold. She destroyed me for a minute. But I wasn't gonna let that be the end! We had an entire beef on the web, embodying the "Phily rap" style and finding crazy creative ways to threaten to kill each each other in rhyme. It was all fun and games but the verses were serious. All mine are still up, if you wanna see 'em.

That first beef was like an inside joke between me and Gianna, but all the videos were public and people watched them, loving every minute. And as the fact that I did a little rhyming on occasion became more and more public, things kept happening to make me keep doing it. I was asked to spit a few bars to cheer up a friend. I got sick and had nothing to do but complain, so I wrote a verse about it. Some weirdo requested that I rap about carrot cake and I, being just as weird, obliged. And the beefs. People seem to get kicks out of challenging me, so by now, I've gone through three of them, and won! All of this is documented online. There are fifteen videos of me rapping on Facebook, seventeen if you count my spoken word piece and the footage of me performing as Left Eye, so yeah. If you're bored, you can go have at them... when you finish reading this, I mean! Don't go abandoning me now!

My beefing career ended when everybody realized they couldn't really fuck with me... At least that's what I tell myself, lol. My third and final beef to date came out of absolutely nowhere. Two guys, Beau and Joey, were smoking crack I guess and decided to come at me. And they didn't even rap; they put it in a note! It was really lame and people were piping them up like mad, telling me I got schooled and wondering if I could come back proper. I put the pencil to paper, set up my camera, and merked. We haven't heard from the boys since.

Haaa. Yeah. Good times. I remember all my rap beefs fondly, because none of them came from any actual beef. It was all just some seriously creative fun with friends. I'm actually kinda itching for someone to come at me again... I wanna see if I still got it, heh. Recently there's been word of some girl whose name I can't recall who wants to battle me, but I don't actually know her, and I don't want to create any real animosity with a person, so that's probably gonna be a no. But hey. Who knows?

People have been pushing and prodding me to record some shit since the very first time I showed off my "skills," and I had always thought about it, so I began to think that maybe I really should. The very first time I recorded a verse on a beat, it was horrible. But I kept trying, and even then I thought that maybe one day I would be good enough in my own eyes to be able to put out a mixtape to the public. And now, that day has arrived!

I've spent several months working on this, and it has been amazing. Working on my mixtape through the many sleepless nights has probably kept me from really breaking down. It's my baby and it means a lot to me, more than I could ever really sum up in words.

See, when I record these tracks, I become a better me. I'm FEARLESS. I have a voice and I expect you to listen to it, damn it. I tweeted the other day that I wish my rapping persona could come through more in my real-life persona, and I do. If and when you listen to my music, I hope you really listen, so you can get a glimpse at parts of me you probably otherwise wouldn't even know exist. There's a lot in me... But there will be more on that in a second blog entry, to be published the same day I release the tape.

Yep. That's about it for now. My single... Sorry, I have to pause. "MY" single. Ahahahaha. This is all still crazy to me. Anyway, my single, "Mine"...

...is available for download. Go get that jawn!

And come July 29th, I hope y'all are prepared.

Sleeping Trouble.

2010-06-27T19:02:00.004-04:00

So... I just woke up for the day (I'll give you a second to peep the time...). And I am PISSED. I was supposed to have been at what I'm sure was a lovely picnic for a wonderful person's birthday, but I was in my bed. This is the final straw!

I have sleeping trouble. During the school year I can manage it, but it just gets out of control in the summer. It took about four days after school let out for me to get totally reversed. I'm just about nocturnal now. I wake up every day between 3 and 8 o'clock PM, usually on the later side of the spectrum, and stay awake until morning, any time between 6 and 11.

Not on purpose, understand. It begins one night when I have nothing but free time, nothing to do but think. And my thoughts RACE. In a way that makes my heart beat quicker and the idea of sleep foreign. I lie in bed for hours but just can't turn it off. Then it's morning and I eventually just pass out. And once I'm asleep, it's done. I sleep hard and long and nothing wakes me up for 6-12 hours.

It's turned me flaky and hard-to-contact. I sleep through my phone going off. I sleep through EVERYTHING. It's a shame how many events I've missed simply because my internal clock is fucked. Flakiness is one of the worst qualities a person can have! And I don't want the fact that I can't fall asleep at a normal time to make people think I'm an ass who doesn't care about them. I feel so stupid and ashamed of myself every time I wake up... And today just pushed me over.

I've tried all the tricks. The "set multiple alarms all across the room", the "just stay awake the whole day so you'll be tired at the right time", the "take a handful of Tylenol PMs and hope for the best." They work for a couple of days, then I'm back. I can't slow down my mind. It's kinda ruining my life. I think I might have to go to the doctor... Ugh.

I'm sorry Laila! =(

Fuck A Tumblr!

2010-06-26T04:36:00.005-04:00

I'm about to rant against Tumblr. This comes from feelings I've been juggling around for a while and is also in response to a friend of mine attempting to come at my neck because I choose to share my thoughts through Blogger instead(shoutouts to Aric!). Now, an overwhelming number of people I know have Tumblr accounts, and if you do, I don't want you to get offended when I start calling you all types of stupid motherfuckers and thangs. That's just what I do. So, if you're gonna get all butthurt because I'm going in on your favorite site, don't read this.

Otherwise...

FUCK a Tumblr. No seriously. I don't know where the shit came from but I know I don't like it. It's the premiere site for blogging these days and it seems like everyone has one, and whenever someone posts the link to their new Tumblr and it shows up on my facebook feed, I just want to rip my eyes out.

Why? Why such rage against a site meant for my favorite pastime, writing? Because, goddamn it! Nobody actually writes on Tumblr!

Yeah, I said it. And yeah, I'm talking about you. You stupid motherfucker, walking around feeling all special and intellectual because you think you're a blogger. I'd hate to shut you down, but you ain't nothing close to smart and you surely ain't blogging.

See, from what I understand, Tumblr is the Twitter of blogging. I imagine a Tumblr homepage looking like a Twitter homepage, except with longer posts. That's cool. I actually think it's a great concept. But my problem comes with the "reblogging" feature. What pisses me off is when I click on someone's Tumblr link and I see absolutely nothing that this person actually wrote! It's ridiculous. All most people do on Tumblr, it seems, is reblog the same pictures, quotes, and dumb shit. I hate it.

Tumblr gives even the most illiterate person the delusion that they too can blog. It's another place for people to dickeat and regurgitate everything that everyone else is saying with no need to produce their own original thought and content. And I'm not with it!

Then, there's the whole commenting issue. You can add some html to allow people to leave comments, but the standard Tumblr account does not come with a commenting feature. This, to me, defeats (what some people say is)the purpose of blogging. To blog is to share your thoughts with the world, and to welcome theirs back, in hopes of enriching all parties involved. But by taking away the commenting feature, Tumblr makes blogging into a wholly solipsistic process. It makes the blogger's word the final say, and leaves readers powerless. I think it's dangerous. And this is my dramatic psychology-of-writing-obsessed side speaking, but hey. It's a valid argument. Me, I want people to comment on my blog. I want to know what they think. I want someone to tell me I'm wrong. I want people to provide other points of view. And even if they don't, I always want the option open. Which is why I'ma be ridin' with Blogger until the wheels fall off.

So yeah. Fuck Tumblr and fuck you every time you reblog... No hard feelings for real though, heh.

Typing Through The Little Things.

2010-06-24T01:36:00.009-04:00

It may not seem like it, but I get really stressed out when I'm not updating my blog on a regular basis. My mind gets clogged with so many thoughts and I know that all I need to do is write them out for a little relief, but then the days go by and all I do is think of more things to write about without actually doing it. And then when I do sit down and try to write, everything comes rushing out at once and I end up with a bunch of non-connecting sentences and crazytalk that has to be separated into different possible entries which again, I don't finish. It's a vicious cycle.

See, you see my writing here, and it's pretty nice with the spelling and grammar. I pride myself on being able to write technically. I think a lot of my "talent" comes from the way I use grammar and vocabulary, because I've taken time to invest knowledge in these things and I understand how to use them. But what you don't know is that my actual thoughts, the real raw product from which all of this is created, comes in the form of shouted sentence-fragments, aggressive ebonics, and intense snapshots of feeling... That's the best way I can describe it. And it's difficult and time-consuming to translate what's in my mind into articulate writing... For example, these whole two paragraphs began as the notion: "My thoughts dumb as shit so what the fuck." Now, what if instead of all of this I had just said that? I would know what I meant, but no one else would. And that's not my goal here.

...I probably didn't need to explain all that. I'm trying to figure out what my point was so I can sum it up for you and I both... I guess I'm saying: Writing is stressful and difficult and it takes a long time and sometimes I psych myself out about it but it's my favorite thing to do and I will never stop. Yep.

Anyway, I have this undying curiosity of what draws so many people to alcohol, and I need personal experience to satisfy it, right? So I've been on this semi-quest to get drunk. I've tried three times in the past three months and the thing is... it hasn't been working. I swear I should feel something but I don't. And it's not like I don't drink enough. The first two times, maybe, okay. I was chillin' the first time because it was a public party setting and I didn't think the first time I should be drunk should be in the dark with a bunch of wallie(wally? wall-e?)-hungry niggas. The second time I was splitting a bottle of chardonnay with two other people which amounted to about two glasses each and that probably wasn't enough for anything. But the third time I really TRIED. There was liquor everywhere and I partook. I even had a world-famous Four Loko. I asked people, and there's a general consensus that I should've felt something. But... nope. Which has birthed the idea that I have been living with a high tolerance for alcohol without even knowing it. *shrug* For all this I think I'ma just stick with Mary.

Speaking of which... Since I made it public that I smoke weed, people have been coming out of the woodwork to tell me they do too. That's all fine and dandy. But being thrust into the social world of marijuana smoking has learned me a little something, and that is... smokers kinda, um, drawl. Lol. I think it's because of a combination of things: 1) Most of the people I know just started smoking within the last year or so. 2) People encourage each other to be hype and competitive about weed just like anything else (sneakers, music, fashion). So now we have these... hypebeasts of weed, if I may use the term. People who do nothing but brag about their roll game, their seventeen different pipes from seventeen different countries AND life-sized Jesus-shaped bong, and the fact that they've tried every strain they could get their hands on and can definitely tell the difference. With me, I'm like... Shut the fuck up. I've been smoking since we had to share lockers, so this is nothing new to me. You wanna Twitpic that perfect blunt you rolled, fine. You got some really good stuff and you wanna tell somebody, fine. But don't turn shit into a competition. I roll so I can smoke and I smoke what gets me high. That's it. And you know what? It's not special! You should know by now that a lot of people smoke weed, so why you still actin' like you're doing something different when you do? Drawlin' ass. Some people smoke, and some people don't. You do. Whoopee. It's about time to get over yourself.

...I just needed to get that off my chest.

♫ ♪ Summa, summa, summatiiime! ♪ ♫ It is indeed. School let out May 12 and my mood skyrocketed about 500%. The weather, occasionally stifling, most of the time is pretty damn nice. Troubles don't seem to be as troubling and I can't help but feel like everything is good. I mean, it's not. Realism prevails when I say there's still a bunch of elements in my life with which I'm unhappy. But summer vacation finally gives me some time to focus on myself and my well-being. I'm going outside and walking around aimlessly with no worries of when I need to be back. I'm seeing people. I'm reading! I even procured myself a JOB INTERVIEW (omg!) at good ol' Dunkin Donuts. And if I get the job, things will only get better. So I'm looking forward, you know. Always trying to look forward.

"Where the FUCK have you BEEN?!"

2010-06-05T01:42:00.000-04:00

*clears throat* Um... Hi, blog.

I know I've been terrible to you lately. No updates in almost a month. You're starving and I've been ignoring your cries. Please don't hate me! See, I've been doing something that I don't usually do. I've been living. Not on some dramatic "My life has been changed and now I'm really ALIVE!" shit. But on some chill "School's out, my friends are home, and we gettin' it poppin'!" shit. I'm here, though. And I just want you to know that I won't leave you like everyone left Xanga, like everyone left their blogs here, like everyone's gonna leave Tumblr. I love you, blog. And I'm in this for the long run. Just you and me.

...Yeah. Now back to our regularly scheduled program.

Burning My Yearbook.

2010-05-07T00:11:00.024-04:00

I don't have cable. So tonight[NOTE: I started writing this on Sunday night. It's Friday now, so... yeah], instead of watching the epic season premiere of my favorite show, I'm sitting here trying to manage the monster that is my contracting uterus and not throw up. Yes, I went there. Cramps are in full effect and I'm about ready to mug the next person who tweets about The Boondocks, so I'm here to write.

I'm listening to El-P. If I can't watch my favorite show, I'ma listen to my favorite music and let the lyrics mingle with the thoughts that have been floating in my head lately, the most prominent being "burning my yearbook."

The very fact is I am sitting here with zombies talking endlessly but couldn't tell you one thing that was said. I get surrounded by the friendliest of strangers who would sooner kill themselves than give a fuck if I were dead. -League of Extraordinary Nobodies

I still think our cover is certified ASS by the way, but that's another story...

I wouldn't actually burn my yearbook, at least I don't think so, but when the thought first occurred to me it seemed so perfect.

See, I have this sorta unhealthy connection to high school and the people that I graduated with. I just can't seem to stop wanting to be... included. I still find myself being highly affected by all the stuff that goes on between my (former) classmates without me, without even thought of me... Sigh. It's partly because I've known them for so long. All the discomfort I feel around people I've just met is cut in half when I'm around fellow Masterman '09ers simply because I was around them every day for almost a decade. It's hard not to want to build that comfort into friendship.

In my high school, just like everywhere else, there was the "popular" group. They probably never considered themselves such, because that's not really the right word for them, but they were that group of beautiful people that associated with each other. They still do. Since my school was so small, it seemed like that group included everyone, minus a few stragglers... a few stragglers like me. I never was and still am not a part of it.

Y'all know I'm cool with being different. But from time to time, everyone wants to belong. There was a long period in high school during which I let my non-inclusion in the "popular" group make me feel worthless and inferior. I tried to ignore it, but when have I ever been able to ignore my feelings?

These feelings have followed me into college. I made (...*counting*...) four new friends this year, and that's being generous. I wrote an extravagant excited entry about my weekend partying because it's the only weekend I've ever had like that. Usually on a Saturday night, I'm by myself, sitting in my room or outside walking around watching all the people in groups with actual things to do. And with all the time I spend alone, I can't escape thoughts that I'm just. not. cool. And here, I'm not only not cool enough to hang with the cool kids, I'm not cool enough to hang with anyone... This from a person with a blog called "the illest motherfucker since oedipus." You'd think I'd have the confidence of a rockstar and a friend-base to match. Ha. That's the thing. I do kinda see myself as a pretty BAMF. It's taken a lot and a long time for me to start to feeling this way about myself, and now with all this loneliness I'm facing, I'm beginning to think that I'm wrong.

This long stretch of time without being able to be around my core group friends, the people who I never doubt really love me for who I am, has taken a toll as well. When I walk through my dorm building, it takes me right back to the day I walked through a busy Masterman hallway after school and had not one person even make eye contact with me. That shit scarred, far deeper than a nice message in my yearbook could ever heal.

Which is when the idea of burning said book came about. Maybe I should set it aflame, burn the kind words of all those people I grew up with. Maybe I should forget that even though half of them are still in the city and a quarter of them at the same school as I am, I can only count on random run-ins and never actually hanging out. And maybe I should remember that I've always taken quality over quantity and that "cool" people are never as cool as they seem. Maybe I should stop all the energy I put in trying to build up old friendships and open myself to new ones. Maybe I should accept that "they," despite all the nice things they say and all the time we spent together, are just not my friends.

There are some gems in there...

Should I just let go? More importantly, can I? Can I just stop caring that "they" just don't seem to care about me? Can I, at least on spiritual level, burn my yearbook?

Hm. Not sure. But I'll try.

Some Shit to Watch When You're High...

2010-04-30T16:17:00.005-04:00

...a.k.a. My Youtube Favorites.

Big Booty Bitches. I can't even... I cry every time I watch it. It is so excellent.

ONLY. ON. SHOWTIME. AT. THE. DAMN. APOLLO.

And this, people, is what we call LIFE!!!

Enjoy.

I'm In Love.

2010-04-25T02:43:00.002-04:00

So I got another refund check from my school and instead of spending it all willy-nilly on a bunch of random stuff as I would usually, I decided to make one big purchase and save the rest, sorta like an adult. And you know what I got?

Ah! FUCK yes. This here is a 7th generation 160 GB iPod Classic. MY 7th generation 160 GB iPod Classic! I decided to let go of all my anti-iPod feelings once I realized nobody's really doing it better in the mp3 player business. Like, it's ridiculous how long I've gone without one. At first it was for principle, but then it was just because I never had the money. But then... I got the money.

His name is Mitchell. Back when I was first thinking about getting it I thought to myself "I'll probably name it something corny as shit like Mitchell." So... I had to.

It's crazy. I haven't been able to carry my entire music collection with me for a long time. My old mp3 player was 40 gigs and I have 57 and something. This is a whole new experience. In my mind there were songs I could hear on the go and songs I could hear at home. But now I can hear anything anywhere! You know how powerful that is? You probably don't, since you've probably had an iPod for years. Well, I haven't. I've had one for three days. And I have fallen into a deep and lasting love.

Alex Ludovico.

2010-04-20T20:16:00.006-04:00

This is one of my favorite rappers ever who I never talk about because I guess I kinda wanted to keep him to myself but I've been following him for years and now I want to talk about him all the time.

An interlude between posts because I need time to think and it's fucking dope and why not?

Nigga Part One.

2010-04-18T01:30:00.003-04:00

So, the "n-word" topic has been sitting on my "potential blog topics" list since forever. It has always been something I wanted to write about, but I could never get my thoughts into words as well as I wanted to. I'm still not sure that I can now, but circumstances call.

This is one of those issues when I don't think I'm right. I'm just saying what I think. It's going to be hypocritical and confusing but I still want to say it. I might offend you and you might not like me. So be it.

If the world were perfect, white people would, um... stay out of this. The question on whether or not to use the word is strictly an African-American issue. If all Black people stopped using it right now, in a few years, its usage would be non-existent amongst most other populations as well. I believe that. Whenever I hear a white person arguing over why they should be able to use the word, all I can think of is "Why do you want to say it anyway?" Like, what desire should anybody of any other race have to use the word? I don't get it. Anyway. I don't mind hearing anybody's views on this no matter what color they are. I just wish they wouldn't get so vehement. It always seems like they reallyreallyreally HAVE to prove to me that they're right about this. I always want to tell people of other races to calm down when arguing about the n-word... Come to think of it, I want to tell everybody to calm down. That's why I've avoided talking about it for so long. It's so damn controversial!

But whatever. Let's begin.

I use the n-word. Obviously. I say "nigga" all the time... on Twitter. Because Twitter is where I'm least likely to filter my thoughts. When actually talking to people, I don't use it that much, unless I know they're comfortable with it. I say it when I rap. I say it. I'll say it right now: Nigga nigga nigger. *shrug*

I was told that I'm too smart to use the word. On the inside, I rolled my eyes. Yes, I am pretty darn intelligent. But I am also a Black teenager. I have lived almost 19 years as an African-American, and I can tell you, variations of the word "nigger" permeate almost every facet of Black culture. It's everywhere. I really need someone to live my life and then take some time to think about telling me I'm too smart to use the word. I was so offended... As if to suggest any use of it is unintelligent! Ugh. I can't even begin to...

Okay. Deep breath.

I'm also a self-proclaimed child of hip-hop. This should be self-explanatory. Almost everything I listen to is hip-hop. You know who started hip-hop? Black people. You remember that whole "variations of the word "nigger" permeate almost every facet of Black culture" deal? Well, music is definitely one of those facets. Y'all know what I'm talking about. I know I don't need to provide examples... I love hip-hop, so how could I listen to it if every time someone said "nigga," I flinched? I don't flinch. I accept it in its context.

It's all about the context people! All.about.the.context. I swear. I cannot be the one to sit here and tell you every possible situation and whether or not it's "okay" to use the n-word, because that's only my opinion and the list is endless. But all it takes is some common sense. If you're around Black people and you're not Black, and you're not talking about it, and you don't know how they feel about it, and you're not reciting song lyrics, and even if you are reciting song lyrics, don't use it. It might be because it's wrong to use it or it might be because you don't know who you're going to offend or it might be both or it might be something else.

I know it's unrealistic to expect only one race of people to use a certain word. And that is something I continually struggle to reconcile with the feelings in my heart that all would be fine if people just "followed the rules." It's the part when I try to define the rules when I have trouble, which is why I can't really define them for you. I'm just one person.

I'm not going to say some corny "I know I should stop using it" shit because that would be a lie. When someone asks me about it I just want to tell them to let me be. I can understand why someone else can see a problem with me using it so I don't need them to explain it to me. You might want to argue about this in real life. Well, I don't. You can try. I'll probably just listen to you and shrug.

I feel like I have so much more to say. I will. But this is enough for now.

I'm not in a shitty mood anymore.

2010-04-16T21:17:00.005-04:00

So a little positive to balance out the negative and then I promise I'll talk about things outside of myself for a few entries. We all need to get out of my head for a while...

I'm so excited to be taking Spanish again. Can't wait for that next semester.

I'm happy that The Boule Foundation looked out for the cookout and finally sent my scholarship money to Temple, which Temple sent to me. I got money in the bank shawty!

I'm happy that I have the best mom and roommate anyone could ever ask for. You always hear people complaining about their moms. Not me. I love my mom more than anyone else. She the fucking best! And I don't know about the rest of the world but in college somebody always has something to say about their roommate. All I can say is that I love mine. She's not just my roommate, she's my friend (cue music and tiny teardrop) and she's really a good person inside and out. It's a blessing.

I'm happy that my mans n 'em will be home soon so I can stop being a lonely crab. Once my "we" is back, "We" out! Summer 2010.

I am madly in love with my iTunes. Music is always there to tell me just what I need to hear. It knows all the answers.

I'm happy that phones exists and that people call me. How difficult would life be if I had to correspond through the Pony Express.

I'm happy that it's not Winter anymore. There's really nothing to complain about when I don't have to worry about temperatures dropping below 40° for another six months.

I'm happy that there are memories in my head that can make me smile out of nowhere on the darkest day.

I love my hair! Even when it looks absolutely ragged, I still rock it like I think it's the best thing since a fresh fade & some waves, because to me, it is. My little toddler locs rebel and get frizzy and stick up at perfect 90° angles and I know I can't do a thing to make them change, so I embrace it all.

I'm happy because I have learned from everything that has ever happened to be, whether good or bad. I'm not the type of person to make the same mistakes over and over disregarding previous failures. I love that I take experience and grow with it. I love my wisdom.

I'm happy to do things even when I think I'm ass at them. That pissed off voice in my head will never stop me from writing or dancing for long.

I have a cavity in my front tooth and no money to fix it but I keep smiling. And even if the shit falls out, I'ma keep smiling.

Every time I go back to my high school every teacher I see makes a point of telling me that I look great. They're nice people.

I love painting my nails. It makes me feel peaceful, and patient, and pretty.

And I ain't never, ever gonna give up on myself and my goals. I got shit to DO before I leave this earth!

Goddamn It.

2010-04-15T02:26:00.003-04:00

I am in a shitty mood. Today I walked around Center City smoking and mean mugging people, which helped a little, but still. Since I can't just fuck people up at will, I'm blogging. I need to get as much of this aggression out as I can. I want to be back to feeling airy and able.

I'm mad because I reeeally like Ciara's new song Ride, but in the beginning there's a part that says "23 waist, pretty face, with the thick thighs" and I NEED niggas to stop saying shit like this. You want a girl with an ass like a horse, boobs to match, and somehow a waist that would make an hourglass jealous. 23? REALLY?! I haven't had a 23 waist since I was a damn child. You know how difficult it is for me to put on something and not just bawl at how fucking fat I am? Because I'm not even (that) fat, but shit, my waist ain't nowhere near a 23, so I guess I am.

I'm mad because I used to think I was a loner by choice, but it's been made clear that I have no choice but to be a loner. Out of all the friends I have in Philly, all the people I know roaming around Temple, Penn, Drexel, Masterman, and other places, all these people who "love" me, I regularly hang out with just one person. I'm mad at people who reach out to me over something I said in my blog, or a song I put out, and express that they wish we were closer, and just as quickly forget about me. I'm mad at myself for getting my hopes up, exchanging numbers, and actually trying to build friendships with these fickle motherfuckers. I'm mad at people who embrace my friend in a full-bodied bear hug and then give me a measly one-armed squeeze. I feel so invisible. I feel so unwanted. I feel alone. I feel like it's my fault. And this shit pisses me off.

I'm mad because even though my new mottos include "Mama ain't raise no bitch." and "I ain't fuckin' scared!" I still find myself suffocating under the same fear way too often. No one's here to tell me not to be afraid.

I mad because I'm mad and I don't like being mad! I don't like the ugliness of my thoughts, the violence, the ill wishings. That's not me.

I'm mad because I don't have anyone to dance with.

I'm mad because it's Spring, not Summer, so school is still in session and the weather is still unpredictable. I used to hate Summer but in 2009 I fell in love with the heat and now I crave it. I need the 75+ degree days.

I'm mad because as much as I care, as smart and as ready and willing as I am, I still need a degree to be a teacher. I feel like I could teach better right now than half the apathetic educators with those damn pieces of paper to which we attach so much value. I'm in college and doing the exact same things I was doing in high school and hating them just as much if not more and I just want to be left alone. I'm mad because I can't figure out if this is normal exasperation with school or something deeper.

I'm mad because I'm broke, goddamn it!

I'm mad because I think about race way too much and in the wrong ways.

I'm furious... I'm just angry...

I'm mad because confidence and happiness are too damn fleeting.

I'm mad because I can't sing at all and can only barely rap. And I still can't dance--grinding doesn't count, I've decided. I'm a shitty writer, too. Just untalented.

I'm mad that Nas and Kelis are getting divorced, and that she is totally fleecing him. They were my favorite famous couple.

I'm mad because I'm a failure in my own eyes.

*sigh*

You guys want to know the meanest thought I ever thought? It's terrible. It was, "I hope you never find love."

"lists n shit."

2010-04-14T00:04:00.004-04:00

My mind is everywhere and I want to write about everything but I can't get my thoughts to settle long enough. Such is life.

My blog posts often begin as random thoughts, quotes, or lists scribbled in a notebook or saved as a text message draft or typed into an endless stream of notepad files I create for them, the latest called "lists n shit." Since I can't seem to be able to expand on anything, I guess I'll just give you the raw product right now. This could be a cool feature, I guess. Shit, I even have a list of possible blog features here so I guess I'll include that to give you a picture of my vision for this blog. Ugh. Read this paragraph back to yourself. I'm rambling like shit. Lol.

Anyway, here's a short excerpt of what never ends.

*

And when people ask me random ass fucking random questions like random fucking serious ass questions outta fucking nowhere. And like in public places amongst chaos where I can't think. Cut that shit out.

Gossip machines. Shut the fuck up.

People who aren't my mom or older family members talking to me like they are.

I haaaaate when people are condescending.

A bad thing about me is I like people more the less I see them. Imperfections just motherfucking SHINE in person including my own and it feels terrible sometimes.

I need a guy who
doesn't mind if I chain smoke
thinks it's cute/badass when I curse like a sailor
respects my intelligence
will talk hip-hop with me
chain smokes with me! that would be great.
will be honest

Blog Features to Create/Bring Back
lyrics lately!
favorite youtube rappers
5 lists of 5 things each
flash opinions on music
more creative writing
youtube in general
vlogs
music mixes/playlists

If you let me out of my cage I'm gonna go wild.

I'm writing about something and writing about why I don't want to write about it at the same time. Weird.

People act like I can't write about my life. Like I can't be free with my feelings. Like I can't do what I want. Like I can't be happy. Fuck OUTTA here.

*Plus...

Lmao. Don't start no shit, won't be no shit!

The Craziest Weekend of My Life... In Tweets.

2010-04-06T19:43:00.010-04:00

If you didn't know, then shame on you, I go in and extremely hard on Twitter. It gives me a place to say a lot of what I need to say but can't or won't out loud, whether because it's offensive, too random, or no one else is around. Twitter is where I note the fuckery I see every day and take mini-roadtrips on the highways of my mind. You get the picture.

Now, you'll find Rihanna's "Rude Boy" video at the end of this entry. The video, while quite visually stimulating, is not what I'm writing about. I need the song there because it is my personal anthem for what was thus far the most insane weekend of my 18.69 years.

Easter weekend 2010 brought me face-to-face(and countless other body part-to-body part) with the party culture that I usually observe and question from afar. The boul Breezy was coming down from PSU. I know how he lives, so I knew some shit was bound to pop off... Plus he told me. Lol. I decided at the beginning that I had no goals, whatever was gonna happen, was gonna happen, and I was just gonna go along. No fear. No holding back. And y'all... *serious face* Y'all. I went the fuck IN.

And you KNOW I reported it all through Twitter! So read on, brave soul. I've collected it all and put it in order, from my first tweet on Friday to when my phone died Monday morning. A formatting error put them all into paragraphs and it's like a crazy stream-of-consciousness piece. I've decided not to add any commentary and just let the tweets speak for themselves. Find them in their original format on my Twitter page.

Friday: I got my legs on full display today. Laaawd. My nails are florescent orange. My dad just asked me where the rest of my dress is. I am DONE. Hearing niggas scientifically break down this weed contraption. Funny. Random white bitches. Leave. Oh, this bitch is not even attractive in any way, personality foremost. #Hatin. Actually #ImnothatinImjustspeaking the truth. These desperate alcoholic whores. Drunk girls get nicer when there's alcohol around. I should have expected this. Beer pong is dirty as SHIT. Okay. Let's NOT leave the douchie guido guy. *rolls eyes* Why are y'all so fucking desperate to get in this party? I'm embarrassed. I'm mad we left the kinda poppin party. I had a boul to dance with and everything. But these niggas just wanna drink. I really wanna come at these people's necks but the corny boul is their friend and the girl with the terrible wig hasn't offended me. Ahem. They're doing keg stands. I'm dancing in the corner. I just got molested a little bit. Hand creeping in my panties. I put a stop to it before I had to kill a fat white boy. These niggas got me carrying the food AND the iced teas. Ain't nobody offer to help. Niggas. ...Okay. Aric helped. He still a nigga though. Lol. White girl crisis. Oh no! Please stop talking about how hot S is. You're making me feel inadequate. I'm only tweeting when I'm annoyed. I'm actually having a lot of fun overall. =D A really wants S. Oh ard. E wants C. C is totally paying more attention to A. A is fucking scheming on S. This shit is DRAMATIC. He buuuuullshittin'. He FUCKED her! Oh SHIT. Oh shit. Is this white nigga HITTING ON ME?! Hands in my hair. Lmao. He's drunk but he's nice. Wait til I tell Cheyenne about this. Laaawd.

Saturday: I omitted so much shit last night, y'all don't even know the half. I did some stuff and... Haaaaa. Happy 2,000th Tweet. Rolling blunts is so sexual... Or is that just me? Smokin ass niggas. Am I a smokin ass nigga? Hm. Oh God. I don't like this guy... Meh. As long as he doesn't drawl. Schemes on deck! Oh my God. He is such a fucking asshole, yet so obviously insecure. Infuriating and fascinating all at once. Aric don't lend this nigga no money! Ugh. I hate this motherfucker. He is a walking venereal disease. This nigga. Oh this nigga! Word?! That's what you think? Oh ard. He said "Where I'm from we share." FUCK no nigga you can't have none of my black & milds! Nobody's talking to me =( This nigga freestylin! *DEAD* Omg the other guy is too! It's a whole cypher. Lol I should so spit a verse with them real quick. I just wanna dance. Why won't they let me dance? Omg I just got WORKED. And declined an invitation to party afterward. I feel so accomplished. I feel pleasantly dirty. I still don't condone it but I now fully appreciate the appeal of fucking on the dancefloor. That was... hot. People were watching me and saying shit but I didn't care. Are they gonna put me on the Tweaker List?! Not that I actually fucked. That's why this is so crazy. All that and I'm still a virgin. Lmao. @Breezybrice is mean. I don't even know what that boul looks like. Zamn. Zaddy. You ever get tired of waiting? *Lil Wayne voice* And I'm single... Nigga had to cancel that bitch like... Omg this girl is pissy. Throwing up and shit. And Phil is mad at me. Aw man. Wow. She trashed. That's crazy. Niggas... Omg. I had to deny a last invite to dance cuz we're leaving. He was cute too! It's ard though, I got mine! Haaa. I wonder why none of these boys I'm with didn't grab a pretty young lady and get their grind on. That shit is fun. These niggas sleep. Chinese food magically revives niggas, I see. He is buuuuullshittin' once again. You ain't smash shit, boul. The female cop was NOT feeling you, you corny ass Mrs.-Officer-fantasy-having ass boul. They said I got him bodied! Aaaw sookie sookie now. These niggas lightweights! Or maybe they just went too hard. I'm chillin'. Ho hum. Am I sitting here? Niggas talkin' about giving head. Boul tryna argue me down but I'm right. Real grown ass men aren't afraid of hair. Buuuuullshittin'! These niggas are PASSED OUT. I'm done. I did not know it was that serious. Pssh. I'm tryna find boul from last night. I wish this nigga would get the message.

Sunday: Wake and bake? Oh ard. OMG EASTER FUCKERY! Bring da amber lamps! This show is asinine. I wonder if I look trashy dressed like this on Easter. When it comes to payback, nobody beats the losers. Ritter rooftop! Emergency surgery on this j. El oh el. Aric is about to read my tweets about me hating his best friend. Whoops. Awkward... Niggas... These interested ass niggas! These hurt feeling ass niggas... Damn I played myself with this long-sleeved shirt. I'm so fucking hot. Is this boul really mad about my Twitter? Old school Soul Train. YAAAAAS! I'm allergic to their cat. This is gonna get ugly. Into the Wild is such a penis movie. Yo... Schemes. On. Di. DECK! Lol. We are all a mass of contradictions. Having kids must drawl. In what condition is my life? I think I'm gonna crack. I mean, I went totally left of... What did I do? Well, I know what I did. I'm just schocked. Didn't know I had it in me. The douchie guy isn't as douchie when he's not drunk. Damn that devil water! Also, my phone is dying. Shucks. Niggas tryna sleep on bean pies... I told 'em! The next time I see that boul... It's goin' down, basement. I always smell like weed when I'm around @breezybrice. "Dude, squirrels fuck all the time!" -Aric Watching fucking awesome Entourage with my niggas and these other niggas and all is well. The boul Tony knocked the fuck out yo. I think if this weekend taught us anything it's that I'm a fuckin rider! I'm going to sleep terribly because of my allergies =(

Oh, YES. I was hit on. I was touched EVERYWHERE. The butterflies flew away. I nodded my head like yeah and moved my hips like yeah! My arms were up, out, around someone's neck or steadying myself against a wall. My leg was lifted. My knees were overworked. My ass was slapped. My waist wound. My neck, kissed. I danced, I danced, I danced! I was the girl dancing with the boul at the party(As in, "Do you see that girl dancing with that boul over there?!"). I was high as shit the whole time. I smoked on a rooftop. I smoked in a clearing surrounded by a treacherous field of tall weeds and broken stuff. I smoked in bedrooms. I slept in living rooms. I slept on top of and under and a few feet away from people I just met. I... did some other stuff. Ha.

...And I loved every minute of it.

Haaaaa, I'm sorry y'all. This partying stuff might be normal for everybody else, but it was wild as shit for me. Never had I ever even... ME? Pssh, naw. Probably seems pretty tame to some veterans out there, but this weekend opened my eyes to all types of things. My mind is STILL reeling. I said at one point "I would die if I did this every weekend." And I probably would, but shit, I wouldn't mind trying it once a month maybe. I learned about myself, I learned about people I know, I learned about people I don't know.

And contrary to popular and personal belief, I CAN dance! Hahahahaha. Just a little bit though. On that note, I'll leave you with the song I could whine to every weekend for the rest of my life...

Day Thirty: Oh Thank God!

2010-04-01T04:40:00.006-04:00

Today(it's still March 31st for me, I haven't gone to sleep yet) is the last day of my 30 days of blogging. I didn't mean to wait until today to post again, but that's how it happened. See, by day twenty-eight, I had sorta-kinda reached the end of my rope. I just did NOT want to do the four days of posts that had to do with describing my day, week, month, and year "in great detail." I was tired of the whole thing and those assignments just rubbed me the wrong way. First of all, I thought it was all backwards. I felt like it should have gone the other way around, from the year to the day. Because if I'm telling you about my week tomorrow, I already told you about my day today, so that was a part of the week I'd just have to omit... You know what I mean? Ah, forget it.

Long story short, I guess, I didn't want to do 'em. I consulted with my blogging partner and she said it was cool, we could think of some way to circumvent it, like describing a detail of our days etc. instead of describing them in detail. I like that idea. So, here we go.

Today.

Actually, I had a pretty interesting day, so I will tell you about it in some sort of detail...

At midnight, when Wednesday March 31st began, I found myself wide awake in Temple University's TECH Center, working on a paper that was due at 11am. Far from my first all-nighter pulled, this one was actually quite successful. Instead of doing what I usually do (staying up all night just fucking around and ending up insane with sleep deprivation and still without a paper 2 hours before class and writing and turning in an absolute piece of shit), this time I actually did right and used the time I had given myself productively, wrote the paper throughout the night, and produced what I think was a quality piece of work. I even finished before class started! At 9:08am exactly, I was done. I had enough time to go back to my dorm room and lie down for an hour, which seemed to pass like a minute, before I headed to class. After handing it in, I came back to my room and promptly crashed, around 11:30. I was supposed to have woken up at 2:00 because I had an advising appointment at 2:30, but that didn't happen. I missed my appointment and would've slept through the day if not for a buddy of mine, Gianna, surprise-visiting me and jarring me out of sleep by standing over me and breathing loudly & creepily... No, really. I was kinda annoyed, because I don't like people fucking with my sleep, but that feeling went away after a few minutes. No reason to be mad if you don't have to be. Gianna had brought along the lovely Natisha and we had a nice little visit. That ends the interesting part. Other things happened, of course, but I thought the all-nighter and the waking up were the most interesting parts. I also lost my guest card, and I'll have to pay $20 to replace it. Did I mention I only have $25 in my wallet? Yeah, OUCH.

This Week.

A detail from this week? Err... I discovered that I like plain Black & Milds better than the wine-flavored ones. I guess my first one was wine, and I was told that they were the best, but I just wanted to see for myself and hey, I found out different. Original is for me. Whatever the flavoring agent is in the wine ones makes me feel a little sick. I thought that my nausea was from just smoking in general, but I get none of that with the original ones. So, yep. *shrug*

This Month.

This month, I heard a song on one of the many many dreadlock journey youtube videos I watch. Its hook immediately grabbed my attention: "I'm from the East coast, but I'm fallin', so hard a nigga got me Crip-walkin'..." Lol. That song turned out to be "Different Languages" by Snoop Dogg. I love me some Snoop! He is the ONLY grown ass man who can rock Shirley Temple curls and still be a total muhfuggin' G, and no one can deny that. Anyway, I sorta forgot about the song until a few days ago, when I watched that video again and said to myself "Hey! I really like this song. Let me go get it." Then I realized, I also get my groove to "Gangsta Luv," another song by Snoop Dogg, from the same album, his latest, Malice N Wonderland. I remember watching an interview with Snoop where he said this album was smoother, a little more for the ladies. I figured if I loved two songs, I might as well investigate the whole thing. So, I downloaded Malice N Wonderland. I may be biased because of my undying love for the Boss Dogg, but I do really enjoy the album. I mean, reviewers on Amazon have blasted it saying Snoop needs to get back on his G shit, but I'm like, chill! He's a husband, he has children. Y'all really want him to be sippin' on gin & juice with his ten-year-old in the back?! Meh. I like it, which is all that matters to me. You might wanna check it out.

Here's "Different Languages," featuring my city's own, the beautiful and talented Jazmine Sullivan, singing the chorus that I like so much:

This Year.

This year, I've made a lot of progress. I was reading my journal and an especially wrenching entry I wrote in late December and I really sat back and relished the fact that I do not feel that way any longer. I was still, STILL on "that shit," you know, that shit I'm always referencing and never explaining, and I was feeling some kind of horrible. But I don't connect so much with those feelings anymore. It's a very good thing. I once said, "Life is made exponentially more difficult when you stay trying to prove yourself to someone who isn't around anymore," because at the time it was painfully relevant to me. I still believe that now, but it's no longer my situation. I am learning that I am the only one I need to prove myself to, and even if I'm not, that person damn sure isn't. I will never ever submit to someone treating me that way again. I have become more honest and less obsessive. The thing I need to work towards now is forgiveness.

Hopes, Dreams, & Plans for the next 365 days.

More important than everything, I plan to keep working towards happiness and peace. I plan to write more and read more. I plan to put out my mixtape on my nineteenth birthday(Yes. My hypothetical mixtape is now a real thing that will happen. You heard it here first.). I plan to get my driver's permit and eventually my license. I plan to start going to the gym, for real this time. I plan to do better in school and find a job.

I hope that with this job, I earn money enough to get all the piercings I want, an iPod, to help my mom with the bills, and maybe even purchase my own car. I hope to do something really nice for my mom's birthday. I hope to do something really nice for my own birthday. I hope that I can stand strong against any obstacles that may come my way. I hope I can build a true, lasting confidence in myself. I hope for lots of good weed, and I hope I don't have to pay for it, lol. I hope I stay friends with my roommate once we don't live together anymore. I hope I make more friends. I hope I spend lots of good times with the friends I already have.

I dream of becoming one half of a loving, monogamous relationship. I dream of the other half of that relationship being a certain person, though I'm open to others, because hey, life. I dream of not being afraid of people. I dream of accomplishing all my plans and of all my hopes coming true.

*exhale* Now, that's done. You'll be back to reading my opinions and random thoughts on everything I want to write about shortly.

Day Twenty-Four: Nicki Minaj & Lip Balm.

2010-03-25T18:23:00.000-04:00

I was wondering why I was still sitting here. I was supposed to have gone to 7-11, dropped $4.21, and re-started smoking by now. Then I remembered I wanted to blog first.

Hola, people. I'm not sure what I want to write about. This has been a difficult week. I felt overwhelmed by schoolwork and hopeless in romance. But now it's Thursday, the unofficial start of the weekend, and my smile's coming back. I'm not as overwhelmed by schoolwork, since I made myself buckle down and do the shit. Romance? Eh.

I'm not focused. I'm sitting here singing Nicki Minaj's "My Chick Bad" verse opera-style. Maybe I should record myself and post it as a blog... or not. Ha, maybe one day. That could make an amusing youtube video.

I wanted to write about lip balm. *Drake voice* It may not mean nothin' to y'aaall, but understand moisturized lips are important to meee. Lol. I am indeed a lip balm fanatic because I think dry, ashy, crusty lips can ruin any face. I started in my youth with whatever my mom gave me, usually something from Avon, and that continued for many years. I forget when I copped my first Blistex, but I never looked back once I did... until I found Carmex. Like Blistex, but somehow way better. Then, one day, I came across a lip balm sale at Rite Aid. Carmex for 99 cents! I had a couple tubes in my hand when I spotted this other brand, something I never saw before. It was also 99 cents. So I grabbed one. And it is the BEST lip balm I have ever had.

It's from a brand called Lypsyl, and it's called "Honeyberry."

This shit right here?! YAAAS. It's in a push-up tube, which I found weird at first but have grown to love. The packaging is cute as all get out, with the pusher-up thingy being shaped like a little bee. Unlike the menthol-y smell of Blistex or Carmex, which I don't mind but sure isn't something to call home about, Lypsyl Honeyberry smells heavenly! I mean, "honeyberry," doesn't it just sound like it smells good? And the moisture! It goes on silky smooth and keeps you looking and feeling kissable for hours on end. I love this stuff, so glad I bought it. If you like lip balm like I like lip balm, you might wanna go get some.

...Yeah. I just wrote a whole lip balm review. Es em aych. What is my mind.

I think I want to write another "Caasi-Isms" entry. That post was really weird, it felt really weird sharing such random shit about myself, and I wouldn't mind doing it again.

Come to think of it, I should probably compile an entry of all the little things I want to talk about that may not merit their own entries, but have been sitting in my drafts for so long that I want to scream. Can you believe I have 28 blog drafts right now? 28 viable beginnings for entries... Sigh. My non-focusing ass. I also have not forgot about your requests, you beautiful people who sent them. I'm just lame.

Yeah, man. I'm lame as hell.

...Hahaha, what a random ending that would've been. This whole entry has been kinda random though, amirite? Well, the 30 days of blogging is almost over. I can't wait to get back to our regularly scheduled programming. Good shit is coming!

Days Twenty-One, Twenty-Two, & Twenty-Three: Cuz I Can.

2010-03-22T20:21:00.004-04:00

I'm writing all of these right now, because I'll feel like this will be a week when I have other stuff I'll want to talk about.

A Recipe.

So, the one recipe I'm "famous" for is my butter cookies. People go super nutso for 'em! Whenever I take them anywhere, I return home with an empty container. I only make them once or twice a year, usually for Thanksgiving and maybe for Christmas or New Year's. I make 4-6 dozen at a time to spread between the two sides of my family. Last Christmas, I brought a few dozen to my friend Kris P's Class of '09 reunion dinner, and watched pleased as people kept returning to the table, grabbing a few at a time and devouring them until they were gone. I don't think anyone knew I had made them, but I smiled listening to people talk about how good they were. The recipe is very easy, nothing special. I think the thing about them is the simple, totally delicious combination of butter and sugar. I alwyas end up a little nauseous while I'm making them because I can't stop taking little licks of the mixture.

Anyway, the recipe, as I make it, goes...
1 cup of butter
1 cup of sugar
1/2 tablespoon of vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
A pinch of salt... Yes, I do have a set of measuring spoons that contains "a pinch," so I can't help you on that measurement.
2 cups of flour

Preheat the oven to 350° F. Mix everything before the flour. Eat a little bit because butter and sugar taste amazing together and you deserve it as a baker. Add the flour. Make balls and flatten them a little smaller than you want your cookies. There's no specific amount that the dough makes, it all depends on how big you want them. Pop them jawns in the oven and go! You don't have to check on them after 10 minutes, but I do. They should be done after 15-20 minutes. Keep doing this until all your cookies are done. Yaaay.

A Website.

I don't do a lot of internet hopping these days, though I wish I could, I don't have time. I basically got four main jawns-- Twitter, Blogger, Youtube, and Facebook. But those aren't really special. I read a couple blogs dedicated to fuckery, but y'all ain't ready for those. Now, I'll talk about two blogs I thoroughly enjoy, one by a normal person like you and me, and one by... well, you'll see.

Return of the Randomizer is the everyday blog of one Miss Rachel Caprice. I forget if I found her's first or if she found mine, but we follow each other on this lil blogger jawn and I LOVE reading her stuff. She just talks about her life, but she does it with a wit that's not common to the usual "this is how my day went" blog. She's really smart and funny and always leaves me laughing or relating or some other valuable feeling. Go read her!

Beyonceitis, on the other hand, is harder to explain. Probably the closest to fan fiction that I read, it is just... I don't even know. What I do know is that I die laughing every time I read one of its intricate, few and far between posts. If you're not well-versed in the world of Black pop culture and fuckery and Beyonce, it might not even be that funny to you, but I get it, and so do its many many fans. Just click the link to see what I'm talking about.

A Youtube Video.

I have 100 favorite videos on Youtube. I try to keep it at that number or lower, because I don't want to be one of those people with 4,968 favorites who doesn't even watch them. I regularly visit all my favorites, there's a reason why I favorited them, you know? So I don't want to have too many. So I'm trying to pick one out for y'all... Oh! Ohhh shiiit.

Poak Chops!

Now, this shit right here. Even if you're not an expert in fuckery, this is some stuff. I am left wheezing every time I watch it, and I have watched it an obscene amount of times over the years... yes, years. From the obvious like the fact that the "singer" is a man, to the minute details like that little girl twerking her young life away and the aunties dancing with cigarettes hanging from their lips, to the whack ass rap that I know by heart (I like my poak chops extra crispy, and not too pretty...), to the fact that it's called "Poak Chops." POAK. Aaaaahahahaha. You can't make this stuff up. No shade at all, Tamechi is a genius and I would bump this in the hypothetical whip. My friends and I know the dance and usually end up doing it when we get together. It's just too much. It's just too country. I can't not love it. Poak Chops. Oh man.

With that, I'm gone. I'm finna go twerk a hamhock and throw dem buttabeans right quick.

Day Eighteen: What's Tickling My Fancy?

2010-03-22T04:04:00.000-04:00

Of course, I had a whole list of things I wanted to write about here, and of course as soon as I put my fingers to the keys, my mind goes blank. I guess I'll just have to be less organized and let it come out as it wants to...

I might have to quit smoking (temporarily), simply because I'm broke. I was wondering where all my money was going when I realized, oh, I'm spending $15-$20 a week on Black & Milds. That shit is doing MAJOR damage to my pockets. I don't want to divulge exactly how much money I have, but I can't keep this up unless I want to have none at all. Shucks.

I went to my first college party this past Friday. It was at a frat house, and it was... meh. Apparently partying sucks if you don't get drunk so... It did suck a little bit. I danced for about an hour but the combination of suffocating heat, my sobriety, and me only knowing about 3 people there just made me want to leave, so I did. Now that I know what to expect, though, I would do it again. I'd just have to have more people I'm familiar with there. The boul Breezy tells me that his mission is to get me drunk and take me to a party and he refuses to let me wait until I'm 21... which, I don't know, makes me feel a lot of different things, but... See, now I guess everybody thinks I'm against drinking after my whole thing that I wrote, but soon after I posted it I wanted to write an addendum, because I didn't feel that I got my point fully across. But then I didn't, because other things came up, and now... Now I guess I'll do it.

See, after I wrote my whole entry and got the wonderful response that I wasn't expecting at all, I started feeling some sort of way. I felt like I was suddenly known as "Anti-Drinking Caas" who would be sober forever. I didn't want to be known that way! It was why I included the paragraph that said "This is not a rant against all drinking. I mean, if someone only drinks occasionally, and only a little to get a little buzz on, because they like how it feels and that's it, then hey. Go right on ahead. But my problem is that all I hear about is people getting totally trashed, way too often for it not to be a problem. I'm pretty sure that nothing good can come from being totally trashed. I'm not angry at anyone... I'm just perplexed, and worried." That was what I was writing about, or trying to anyway. I also felt like people may have thought I was placing myself on some sort of moral high ground when I said "I just feel better, morally, knowing that I am sober." I didn't mean better than anybody who does drink, I meant better personally. I would feel guilty if I got drunk... Err, I will feel guilty when I get drunk, because apparently it's happening, but I'm getting ahead of myself... All in all, I was honored by the response I got, but it immediately made me want to rewrite the whole thing. I guess what I'm trying to say here with my confused-ass prose is that I may be getting tipsy or something in the near future, and I don't want you to think I'm going back on anything I said before and judge me and think I'm a hypocrite and hate me and stop reading my blog and never want to talk to me again!... Ahem. I still don't think I'm saying this right. I'll probably revisit this at some point.

I mean, all the shit I do, smoking and cursing and being a bad student, I am in no place to judge anyone... Ahh, whatever, I'll drop it for now.

Speaking of smoking, since the weather got nice, I've taken to taking these long smoke walks... I walk at least a mile and a half a day, way more on the weekends, and I really enjoy it. Part of me figures the exercise counteracts the smoking, but mostly I just enjoy being outside with my thoughts. Everything seems like it's gonna work out when you're lying in the grass on the baseball field or strolling through the neighborhood with the sun shining down.

I once tweeted "In all honesty, I'm always in love. It's just a matter of finding a person to attach it to... That sounds creepy, but I'll explain later." And hey, later has come. It still sounds creepy and I haven't quite found a way to make it not, but it's the truth. I'm in love with love, a hopeless romantic. It constantly clashes with my staunchly logical realist side, but aren't we all a mass of contradictions? I walk around feeling like I'm in love all the time, because that's how I am. My heart, despite having been stomped all over, spit on, broken broken broken shattered, ripped apart, and stomped on again, several times, just keeps coming back for more. It sits in my chest all bandaged up with a patient smile on its little heart face, just knowing that it will be treated right someday... while my brain yells "DICKHEAD!" from up in my skull. Lol.

I wanted to write about my suitemates, because this past week I got very angry and wanted to do terribly violent things to them, but I've calmed down now and don't want to rile myself up again. The mindset is "Fuck these bitches. I swear I care 'bout everything but these bitches!" Ha. I'll be polite for the next two months, but if you live with me and your name isn't Christine, I probably don't even fuck with you like that... at least at this point in time. It's just gotten to be too much. Es em aych.

There's more. There's always more. But... I have a paper that I haven't been writing for the past three weeks and it's due in six hours, so I should probably... Yeah...

Days Nineteen & Twenty: Stuff I Do.

2010-03-22T01:29:00.003-04:00

I know this is backwards but I want to get these two out of the way because the 18th post is a "whatever tickles your fancy" post and I have a lot tickling my fancy... lol. To keep it ahunnit with y'all I'm getting tired of this. I don't mind posting so often, but the assignment piece of it is getting annoying. I want to just write about what I want to write about, you know? This is a cool experiment, and I'll finish it out, but I need to be free! Ha.

A Talent.

Do I have any talents? Shit, I don't know. I think the thing I'm best at is being a friend. I am entirely non-judgmental and more than supportive. I give out logical, objective advice without being condescending. I sacrifice, no complaints. I give my all and expect nothing but a "Thank you," I guess... I am extremely confident in my ability to be a friend. I think it's evident by some of the people I'm friends with. I tend to be friends with people who don't have a lot of friends, who may be disliked by a lot of people, because I take the time to listen and understand. In high school, I got a lot of "Why are you friends with soandso? They're so thisandthat!" Actually, you know nothing about soandso. They're very dear to me and you're an asshole for believing the hype. *shrug*

A Hobby.

This blog is a hobby; writing is a hobby, obviously... I rap a little bit, but I'll be talking about that later. I've developed a thing for nail polish, but I was planning to talk about that later, too, lol. My most recent hobby is Youtube. I make Youtube videos about my loc journey and other things. And the cool thing is, I actually have like a little Youtube family now, people who regularly comment my videos and say nice things, and I do the same for them. When I want to escape from everything, even the other facets of the internet, I just go Youtube for a while. It's relaxing and always makes me feel better. So, there you go.

Day Seventeen: Julian Beever.

2010-03-18T22:05:00.005-04:00

Today's post is to be about art. The first thing I thought of was this series of pictures I think I got from Kanye's blog back when I still followed it. I put them all in a folder called "that dude" because I guess I didn't feel like saving the artist's name. Upon research, I found out that his name is Julian Beever, and he does amazing three-dimensional sidewalk art.

These are just a few of what I have saved, and if you google him, there's tons more. It's super cool.

Day Sixteen: Hands Down.

2010-03-17T13:23:00.002-04:00

I purposely skipped Day 15 because the post was to be about a fanfic, and I don't read any fan fiction. Coincidentally, we talked about fan fiction in my Texts & Cultures of Science class today, and it was sooo funny. My professor told us how it began, how it came from "slash fiction," which started on message boards writing "K/S" stories about a long-standing homosexual relationship between Captain Kirk and Lieutenant Spock from the original Star Trek series, and they were mostly written by straight females from Canada. Oh, how we laughed. These days, there's a whole wide world of fanfiction out there. I'm sure it's interesting, but I don't fault myself for not being into it. I don't much like reading fiction online for some reason. I'm a book lover. I like turning pages way more than scrolling down and clicking "next."

Anyway, today is Day 16 and the topic is "a song that makes you cry (or nearly)." I was gonna write about "Pretty Wings," but I've already written about it and how R&B in general makes me cry, so I've decided to pick a song from another genre. That song is Dashboard Confessional's "Hands Down." I'm sure you know the song. It was/is pretty damn popular.

My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me,
So won't you kill me, so I die happy?
My heart is yours to fill or burst,
to break or bury,
or wear as jewelery,
whichever you prefer.

This song just gets me. I mean, I love hard, and #thisshitrightherenigga? That's some hard love. Most times I listen to it I find myself tearing up a little bit right at the end when he sings "And I knew, that you meant it. You meant it. You meant it." And I know that that's what I want... Someone who means it.

Squeeze That Brain Like A Sponge.

2010-03-15T23:24:00.003-04:00

This is me catching my mind in the bathroom, turning it upside down, and shaking all the change out of its pockets.

Do I believe in soulmates? Meh. Not in the traditional romantic sense. The idea that there's only one person out there who we could ever have that great love with is fucking depressing, if you ask me. I do believe that we will meet certain people in life who we can make that deep connection with. I don't think these people come around often, but they come. It's a matter of what you do when they arrive.

You ever get to that point when you're tired of being a musical hypebeast? Always looking for the newest mixtape, the hottest up-and-comer, all that jazz. I'm in that place now. I haven't copped Flamers 3, I haven't heard Wale's album, I only really know one Wiz Khalifa song. And I'm okay with that. Music will be there when I'm ready to explore it. For now, I'm indulging myself in what I already have. Exploring the 12,975-song library that is so near and dear to my heart. I'm listening to a lot of Cannibal Ox, because I like Cannibal Ox. I'm listening to early Busta Rhymes, because that's my shit. I've never let popular opinion sway my taste in music, and when I found myself becoming a little too concerned with what everyone else was listening too, I had to step back and remember what I love. My downloading has slowed from dozens of albums to a few songs at a time. Right about now, I'd rather be put on to something that came out in '95 by someone I never heard of than that bangin' new Cudi track. It's just how I'm feeling.

And hey, I can listen to R&B again. I honestly couldn't for a really long time in fear of the emotional downfall it was bound to bring. But I've been really going in on the soft stuff lately. That's how I know I'm healing, I guess.

I guess. Man, if only you knew how you changed my life. I can't help but pick and choose the lines in the songs that so perfectly apply to us. Pssh, us. There was never an "us" and there sure as hell ain't one now. There's you and there's me and we're thousands of miles apart, literally and figuratively. It's sad. I shouldn't be so concerned. A friend tweeted "You shouldn't ever feel like you're important to anyone. People move on. You're nothing but a faded memory on a bookshelf." and I thought it was sad as hell, but I understood. As of now, I'm still brick-by-brick sealing up that empty space where you used to be. They say you should remember the good times, but what's the fucking use? I know I'm still hurt because I still get angry and I still cry, on occasion. I've never hated a person and I'm trying hard not to start with you. I'm just not good at letting go. It's a slow and painful process, but shit, I'm doing it. And glad to be, on the most part.

...Where did that come from? Jeez. I guess the R&B is having some effect.

Spring Break was the best week I've had in a long time. Good friends, good fun, good weed, NO SCHOOL. I don't like college... no, that's a lie. College is great. I just don't like myself in college. I always feel so off. I'm not doing the right things. I'm most likely not going to achieve the 3.25 GPA I need to stay in the honors program this semester, and I don't care! The "Honors Program" is just another monkey on my back, leaving me feeling like the one who slid in on natural ability rather than overachieving. I'm a regular achiever with a lil extra sumn-sumn up there, that's all. And I feel like I'm becoming an underacheiver out of some sick spite against... I don't even know. I talked about diving into my studies this semester. And I tried. But I'm just so uninterested. Even my favorite class annoys me. I know I'm not doing anything special, everyone else has classes and they all get their work done and shit, so there must be something wrong with me. Sigh. I'll figure it out.

"I'm not a flirter!" I yelled in exasperation while on the phone with a friend yesterday. Flirting is another one of those social skills that they ran out of before I got to the front of the line. I'm a girl, but I'm not "that" girl. I don't act like a ditz. I don't twirl my hair. I don't laugh annoyingly & incessantly. I don't touch unnecessarily. I don't ask for jackets when I'm cold. I don't... Shit, I don't even know if this is flirting. I don't know. When I like someone, basically I internet-stalk the shit out of them and just be their friend. I'm a firm-ass believer in "friends first," because if nothing else, I definitely know how to be a friend. Not that it's gotten me anywhere...

Man, you guys, if I actually accomplished something with this crush I have now, you don't know how happy I'd be. I swear, despite all my social deficiencies, I'd make a great girlfriend. I'm not shallow. I don't expect much. I don't like to play games. I'm very easily pleased and very difficulty upset. I've learned a lot and all I want is someone to be honest and snuggle with. I'm beyond supportive, quirky and silly and smart and committed and... Eh. I guess I'm not "badd" enough or enough of a crazy bitch to be interesting. That's what seems to be hot right now... Aw, shucks. I've made myself sad. Well at least he's my friend.

I think all smokers have suicidal tendencies. We have to. To know what kind of damage we're doing to ourselves with every inhale we must be some type of thrown to keep doing the shit. I don't want lung cancer. I don't want my heart to stop. Yet every day, I find myself lighting up, like an idiot. I guess you can tell I'm feeling kinda guilty about it. Who knows when...if I'll ever stop, though. It's got me.

I can't wait 'til May! If Spring Break was any indication, this summer vacation is going to be the best ever. There's only 8 more weeks of school and then I'm freeee. Hopefully I'll have a job by then, though no one seems to want my inexperienced ass right now. All my friends will be home again, and I'll have days and days and days to see them. And the weather! I can't wait for it to be warm and beautiful. I just gotta get through this last stretch of suck-ass freshman year...

Ah. Don't worry about my crazy ass.
...Weeell, maybe just a little.

Day Fourteen: Fuck Yeah Books!

2010-03-15T13:15:00.002-04:00

I think we've all realized that I've kinda abandoned the "every single day" part of this challenge. I think as long as I write about the 30 things within the 30 days, it's all good.

Een-tee-wayz...

Day Thirteen: Fiction.

I just finished reading Tuff, Paul Beatty's second novel. I loved it. Satirical, aware, interesting... I'm bad at writing about books, I've realized. The internet has lots of proper reviews on it though. Tuff is awesome. Paul Beatty has a very unique style that some might find off-putting, mean, and maybe even nihilistic, but I feel it 100%. I definitely gotta save acoupleadollaz so I can buy his volumes of poetry too.

Day Fourteen: Nonfiction.

I'm not a big nonfiction reader, but when I borrowed this book from my bestie to read for my senior project research paper on urban education, I was blown away. Written in the 90's, this book gives a startling view of the conditions in poor urban schools. The title is perfect: Savage Inequalities. This Publisher's Weekly excerpt on the book's Amazon page tells it better than I do:

Kozol believes that children from poor families are cheated out of a future by grossly underequipped, understaffed and underfunded schools in U.S. inner cities and less affluent suburbs. The schools he visited between 1988 and 1990--in burnt-out Camden, N.J., Washington, D.C., New York's South Bronx, Chicago's South Side, San Antonio, Tex., and East St. Louis, Mo., awash in toxic fumes--were "95 to 99 percent nonwhite." Kozol ( Death at an Early Age ) found that racial segregation has intensified since 1954. Even in the suburbs, he charges, the slotting of minority children into lower "tracks" sets up a differential, two-tier system that diminishes poor children's horizons and aspirations. He lets the pupils and teachers speak for themselves, uncovering "little islands of . . . energy and hope." This important, eye-opening report is a ringing indictment of the shameful neglect that has fostered a ghetto school system in America.

Savage Inequalites is a major influence in my dedication to becoming a teacher. I wanted to teach before I read it, and after I read it, I couldn't think of anything else. These kids need someone to care about them. I want to be like one of the teachers in the book who bought supplies with their own money, fought for more support for their students, and had hope in spite of the circumstances.

...And I still haven't returned the book. If you've ever seen Ricardo yammering about wanting his Kozol back on my Facebook page, now you know what he's talking about. Hahaha.

Day Twelve: Hands.

2010-03-13T22:23:00.001-05:00

If you internet-stalk me in any way you probably know I'm dealing with a crush right now. As such, I've been writing crappy love poetry and thangs. And I'ma share one with you!

I had to save it as a picture to maintain the format. When I write now, I realize that format is more important to me than it was in the past. I can thank Contemporary Poetry class for that. Click to enlarge.

I even did a little youtube video reading:

Mm-hm.

Day Eleven: Present-Day Caas!

2010-03-13T11:19:00.008-05:00

Yeah, I know right now it's day twelve, but... shut up. Lol.

If I had my laptop, I would be able to choose from a whole bunch of more recent pictures, but right now my dear lappy is out in the world being repaired... I hope. That's an irrelevant and long story. Anyway, all I've got is what's on my camera. I do take a lot of pictures of myself when I'm bored, but then I swiftly delete them lest anyone see. I had a batch still on there, though. I took these last month:

In case you weren't aware, I started locking my hair:

I just passed my three-month loc-a-versary a few days ago. I fucking love it, longer entry coming soon....and yes, my room at home does have a corner with magazines and books and shit piled in it, which this photo so prominently displays. If I can deal with it, so can you.

Yeeeah.

Day Ten: Baby Caas!

2010-03-11T08:29:00.011-05:00

The year was 1991. The day was July 29th. On that sunny afternoon, I came screaming into the world a month premature and so small you could hold me in one hand.

A few months later my mom was holding me on a couch and someone, I'm guessing my dad, snapped a picture. My mom doesn't really like taking pictures, so I guess that explains the "Wtf are you doing?" face she's got on here:

Hahaha. I love this picture.

But I can't stop there. Oh, no. I cannot deny my readers the cute that was me back in the day.

Age 3:

Certified STUNNA right chea.

Age 5:

Chillin'.

Peep my toy collection, yo.

Footies!

Rockin' that handmade Kente cloth (shoutout to Aunt Tina!) for some thing at school. I "made" a jewelery box for my mom by gluing dry black-eyed peas to an old cigar box that day.

Easter was a big deal. Act like you ain't know.

Bahahaha. Get 'em lil Caas!

And before you say it, I know, I know. I look EXACTLY the same now.

Day Nine: More Photos.

2010-03-10T10:52:00.004-05:00

Hahaha, I really stuck my foot in my mouth with the whole "Oh this week will be easy..." thing. I didn't take into account random sleepovers. So anyway.

Day Eight: Angry/Sad.

Well, I tend to not save photos that make me sad or angry. I make myself sad and angry enough without them. I guess the photos that make me the most upset are photos of desolate areas, hungry children, bodies piled on top of bodies, abortions, abused animals. We've all seen them somewhere. I don't want to go googling and depress my life, so I'll leave this up to your imagination.

Day Nine: Key Lime Pie.

I don't consider myself a photographer. I don't try to take a lot of artsy pictures of scenery and thangs. I'm pretty bad at it, really. But this day is for a photo I took. If I tried to choose a picture I snapped of a friend, I would be here all day picking out the best of thousands. But I do remember a few photos I took that I always liked. They come from one summer day in 2007 when I made a key lime pie from scratch:

...That shit was DELICIOUS.

Day Seven: Just One?

2010-03-08T17:14:00.006-05:00

A photo that makes me happy? Well, there's a lot of those.

Any photo of a baby of any species makes me happy. Photos of people being happy make me happy. Beautiful scenery. Random stuff. I'm easily pleased when it comes to photography, really.

But I thought of two photos that make me smile every time I look of them for this entry:

The heart-bursting cuteness! Dachshunds are my favorite.

Isn't she fabulous?

Mm-hm. Short and sweet, this entry. All of the assignments for this week are photos, so there should be no problem getting them done.

Day Six: Whoops!

2010-03-07T16:46:00.005-05:00

As I told Laila, who's still going strong in this thing(Go girl!), I'm sorry! I have had a very eventful few days resulting in me choosing homework/sleep/friends over blogging. And today I'll be playing catch-up. Four day's worth. Let's go!

Day Three: I am the stone that the builder refused...

The Boondocks, my favorite show, is one of the best social-commentary comedies ever. Every episode leaves my stomach full of roflwaffles and also thinking about important issues. I love this show. Huey Freeman is probably my favorite television character ever. One of my yearbook quotes comes from him. I dressed up as him for "Cartoon Day" suring Senior Week last year:

The funny thing is, if you know me, you know I haven't had cable for the past eight years. So you might be wondering how I even came across the show since it comes on Cartoon Network. And the truth is, I don't remember. I just know that one day I bought the Season 1 DVDs off of Amazon, and it was love at first sight.

The Boondocks is one of those shows that pays attention to the details. They don't skimp on the funny and make fun of everything wrong in the world and more specifically in the Black community. From the very first episode, so much shit has gone down in this show, so many issues have been touched on, I can hardly try to recap. You can watch a lot of episodes on Google Video and Youtube, and if you're a friend I got them DVDs on di-deck and you can watch 'em with me, lol.

The bad part is that it suffers from Chapelle's Show syndrome. Educated people, people aware of things, I guess, understand the satire and the underlying messages. Everybody else just laughs at the surface-funny--"Them niggas crazy!" and such. I have had the first two seasons on DVD since forever, but I haven't watched them at all during my time at school. And you may not understand this, but it's because my roommate and basically everyone around me is white. And just like Chapelle's Show, I cringe at the idea of white people watching it, because I feel like they don't actually get it. You don't really get why this is funny, besides it simply being funny. This is not all white people, not at all, but... But that's a whole 'nother issue. We need to be movin' on.

Day Four: "Ma, you done fucked up and moved to the 'hood!"

I had no trouble thinking of my #1 favorite book. It's The White Boy Shuffle by Paul Beatty. I think that now it has a bunch of notoriety but back when I first read it, nobody had ever heard of it. I bought it on a whim from Horizon Books, the Black bookstore that no one knows exists in the Gallery. This book rocked my world. And it rocks my world every single time I read it. It's about Gunnar Kaufman, an intelligent and rebellious African-American youth whose mother moves his family from their peaceful, mostly-white surfer community to the worst neighborhood in the city when she sees her children aren't "Black enough." And that is like the most skeletal summary I can supply, because if I talk about it more, I'll end up telling you the whole book. It's like a modern-day Invisible Man, also one of my favorites. But The White Boy Shuffle is HILARIOUS. There are moments in this book when I tear up, but there are way more when my tears are from laughter. I've read more than one person calling it the Black version of Catcher in the Rye, ALSO one of my favorites. The White Boy Shuffle is almost like The Boondocks in book form, touching on all those issues in the Black community and making you laugh along the way. This book is raw, nothing-is-sacred, punch-you-right-in-your-fucking-mouth prose and it's amazing. Right now I'm reading Tuff, also by Beatty, and it is not disappointing me in the least. So yeah. That's my favorite book. I have a whole crappin' bunch of others, but we'll talk about those later.

Day Five: Whatchu Say?

Hmmm. This one is pretty difficult, but I guess my favorite quote is, "It's nice to be important, but it's more important to be nice." That was one of my yearbook quotes, and it pretty much sums up everything I believe in and all that I strive for. I guess the runner up would be this little sucker that I made up on my own back in like, eighth grade, and have furiously googled to make sure that I did indeed make it up: "Cheer up kid, things will always get better. When it's pouring rain, you can't get any wetter." Maybe I'll put it in a song one day...

Day Six: A Little More.

So for my first "Whatever tickles your fancy" post I wanted to write some more about a couple things I already had, add in tidbits I forgot and just explain more.

When I wrote about how much I love El-P I was a doofus and forgot to mention that the title and tagline of this blog come from El-P songs:

From Truancy: "See me as a banshee, as the illest motherfucker since Oedipus/ Monkey number one million with a typewriter, flipping Tempest text"

From Lazerface's Warning: "You know what though. I been wondering. See I... I've come to realize me and you girl, we been holding onto this thing too tight. See, those blinking lights that we been staring at, I think they might be broken. I think we been waiting for something that isn't gonna come. And if that's the case... I'd rather cut my losses right now. Guess I'm afraid, afraid that if we don't stop, I think these lasers in my head might just spill out and fucking melt something. And when there's nothing left but smoldering rubble and glass, when everything is silent like a hovercraft filled with dead actors in ziplock bags, when nothing's left but a faint echo of our own beautiful broken legs... All I can say is that I tried to warn you... I tried to warn you."

I also wanted to talk a little more about my smoking thing. So everyone wants me to quit now. The funny thing is I could keep smoking forever, but if I had never mentioned it, nobody would ever know. Honestly, I don't want to quit. And no, being a smoker who doesn't want to quit does not make me an addict, evil, or stupid... well, maybe a little stupid, but damn it, I know! The only reason I was considering quitting was because of the fucking backlash. But hey. I like to smoke. I enjoy it. And there's not many things in this life that are comparable. Peer pressure to do something positive is still peer pressure, people. Lea' me 'lone! I have momofudgas coming out the woodwork telling me to stop. Folks on harder shit than I have ever dreamed of are worried about me smoking a couple black & milds. I'm like, "When you put down the liquor and pills, I'll put down the black, okay?" It is ridiculous.

Ah. Okay then. All caught up. Now I'm about to get ready to head out to the P.O.S. concert y'all! I'm so excited!!! =D

Day Two: "You And I Have Unfinished Business."

2010-03-03T19:19:00.003-05:00

My favorite movie is Kill Bill. When I say that I'm talking Volume 1 and Volume 2 put together, because they were supposed to be one movie, you know. I can watch it over and over and over and enjoy it every time. It's visually stimulating and interesting and dramatic and action-packed and funny, all at the same time. And it even has a happy ending, which I for one appreciate in a film.

On a deeper level, the main character, Beatrix Kiddo, is a baaad bitch. She was done wrong and she is out for revenge. Now, I know revenge isn't the best ideal(An eye for an eye leaves the whole world yadda yadda yadda), but who doesn't love seeing some evil mofos get what's coming to 'em? I definitely do. I hate to see people done wrong, and I only half-believe in Karma, so part of me is all for one exacting their own justice.

Anyway, this movie is fucking awesome, and it was made just to be fucking awesome. There are huge plot holes that you have to be an asshole to think matter. The point of the movie is its novelty. If you read about it you'll be able to appreciate it even more.

Yep. I would write more about this, and about some more of my favorites, but I went in so hard yesterday I thought I'd keep it light today. Catch y'all on the morrow.