Routine

It's funny how life is filled with so many regimented actions. Wake up, wash your face, brush your teeth, get dressed, go to work, blah blah blah. Today, I just got a sense of deja vu I guess because I realized all the little actions I do when traveling to work. Stop by Starbucks in Emeryville to get my fix, pass by the Marina on my way to the 80 and see all the pervos crawling out of bushes or banked against the water, park in the office lot, say hi to the folks in the office, place my coat on my chair and log on to the comp. As you can see, no exciting feats here. Routine can be comfortable but a boring at times. Maybe I'll be radical and run around the office screaming, but a.) our office is so empty, it probably won't matter; and b.) it's a public health office, they'll probably call mental health to commit me. Either way, I'll at least get to let off some steam.

Arggggggggg!!!!

I'm not happy right now. I was looking forward to gettin' my groove on last night, but all of my kick it plans got nixed because at the last minute, folks couldn't make it. Sucks man. Considering the year, week, and day I have had, tonight was going to make things all good, at least for a couple of hours. I remember when I was a kid, my brother would always say, don't get your hopes to high. Each year, there was always talk about going to Disneyland, so every summer I would get all juiced about going, only to have them crash and burn. Every damn year!!!! I know, I know, with the circumstances the way they were, it was pretty clear why things fell through. However, it still sucked. Tonight brought back shades of that. Sometimes, whatever and how ever you are able to do it, getting away is cleansing for the spirit and the soul. I guess that's why I like to write so much. It removes me from shit for even a minute or two. Well, at least I got to beat up on my CO brothers this afternoon. In particular Monkey and Kin (who better come up off of my watch and unass those wheels too). Well, I guess I will spend my evening like every other evening this past year. Channel surfing and hoping that at least one person will pop up on AIM. Yay.

Good 'Ol UC!!!

One more for the road. When it rains, it pours.

Dusted and Disgusted...

I know, I know, hella posts today, but when shit hits you, you gotta let it out (Ok, take that how ever you want).
CRUSHES SUCK!!!! Lately I have been getting stuck in tons of traffic (which pisses me off) and then for some reason I begin to think about other shit that pisses me off even more (which doesn't do the BP to good, so go figure). Anywhos, there have been many a guy that have come along that I have had some sort of interest in, only to get crushed. Maybe that is the basis of the term. People think, "Oh, how cute! So-and-so has a crush on so-and-so! Awwwww!" Don't get ahead of yourself. I'm finding that the term means, "So-and-so is gonna shred so-and-so's heart to all hell!!! Girl/Boy, don't fall for it!!!" I remember one time I was gonna state my feelings to a crush from undergrad, but got cold feet. It was a friend (well, my only friend essentially at that time) and I didn't want to ruin things. The next time I had feelings for someone, I did say something and got dissed. That did my self-esteem some good. I'll definitely have to think twice about doing something like that again. I'd probably sooner gauge my eyes out with a rusty fork first. Well, probably not to that extent, but you get my point. It's weird. They say that "nothing ventured is nothing gained," so I guess you never know unless you try. However, it's best to be prepared for the crash and burn (which means get all the girls/guys on standby, load up on the tissues, and get ready to eat up the entire fridge or drink up the entire bar to drown your sorrows). What makes things worse I guess is if you never try at all, because then you begin to think of what could have been and that tends to bring up shitty feelings (hence my pissed off mode while being stuck in traffic -- too busy thinking about the what ifs. Grrrrrrrr!). Well, any thoughts? I'm all ears.

The X-factor...

Last night, I was watching the biography of Bernie Mac on A&E. There is always the saying that the funniest, most talented people have the most tragic and challenging backgrounds. It was amazing to see how he struggled to make it to where he is today and can be so grounded despite his success. Last night, I developed a whole new respect for him and here is why. I don't think many people either respect and/or understand old school child rearing. With so many fractured families, this type of environment is quite common. The role of grandma and grandpa are not just occasional holiday visits. They live with you. They bring a whole new perspective on life, and what it all means. It's weird at times. I feel like I am in a totally different generation or something. Like an old lady trapped in the body of a 26 year old. Which is good I guess, as remembering your purpose and value is always important, and if you don't respect yourself, no one else will. I'm finding old souls are the best souls. They are the most genuine and honest in many aspects. One poignant clip from last night was when Bernie was talking about a birthday he had as a kid and that his dad promised to come for, but was late. The same day, Bernie got like $15.00 in birthday money. Much later, his dad did arrive, but he had some lame excuse about how how his car died and he needed exactly $15.00 to get it fixed. So his dad took his birthday money without a flinch. However, Bernie's grandma chased the dad down the street, hit him with a frying pan, and took the money back. Why does this sound and feel so familiar? I'm not going to turn this into a blitz on non-existent fathers, because the pain that gets inflicted is pretty obvious. Well, not just fathers, but from anyone that you had hopes and admiration for, but did not deliver. That hurt is like no other, and I am not sure that it will ever go away. Fortunately, there are situations that have people to pick up the slack. Thank God for them.

One of my favorite political cartoons. Sad that this could actually be a scenario of the dullard. 

Old School...

Another case of the Mondays. A pile of work on my desk that I'm not sure will ever disappear. Organized clutter here and there. Phone calls and e-mails up the wazoo! Bleech! Calgon, take me away!!! Since I can't wash all my troubles down the drain, what do I resort to? Nothing but good old Jr. High School humor... it's the best! Remember how much you laughed when one of your friends did our said something that was off the hook, and every time you saw them you couldn't help but to burst into laughter? I soo needed to have that kinda fun today and that's what I got.
For lunch, my boss wanted to meet with our evaluator (aka my potna in crime) Ana TJ. So I call her earlier in the day to see if she was down. Of course she puts on the "why are you wasting my time" tone... classic. I then offer to come and pick her up so that we could meet our boss near UCB, but how does she end the convo? "Come pick me up biotch!" Classic. So I pick her up and all the way there, we talk shit to each other back in forth... just like sisters I guess. You gotta love it.
Amidst all the shit I had to do at work, I still managed to slack a bit. Watched some Chappelle show clips. Got some IM Def Comedy Jam from TK, Shawn, and Banagan. Yeap, I'm such a diligent worker.
After work, my day doesn't end... time to cross the bridge to class. I pick up Banagan from Ashby BART and we shoot the breeze and whatnot. But what does homie do as soon as we get to the Daly City interchange? Falls the hell asleep. Gotta fix that fast, so I pop in a CD my brother made for me with some old school cuts on it. I blast "Eye of the Tiger" hella loud and we start shadow boxing in the car. Gotta get some energy fast before we head to policy class. Banagan says that I should play it hella loud as he runs through campus, a la Rocky Balboa. Yeap, I can see that. Patriotic shorts, raw eggs and all. Funny stuff.
So we go to lecture. I scan the room watching people looking into la la land, but feigning the "I'm paying attention look." Of course I look towards folks I can get a quick laugh out of just to wake up a bit. The subject area of this class is interesting, but on a Monday night, soooo tiring.
Class ends, and woohoo, time to cross the Bay and go home. Before hitting the bridge, I give Mylinksi a lift to her car (lazy bum) and blast "Eye the Tiger" again. That's my theme for the semester I guess. Somehow, me and Banagan get on the topic of old school video games, with one of the favs being "Street Fighter." I tell him that in Jr. high school, there was this one boy people would call Dhalsim, because he was hella skinny and tall. Every time he would some into the room, fools would say: "oooga flame! oooga fire!" As my grandma would say, "it's laughable, but not funny." Who am I kiddin', that shit used to be hella funny!
The humor today had me feeling all nostalgic. Junior high is usually marked by awkward transitions from childhood to adolescence, but that time was pretty fun. I miss laughing at nonsense. Kickin' it on the quad. Passing notes in class. All that good stuff. With as whack as things tend to be here and there, it's refreshing to be dorky and not give a shit about what others think. Trust me, it helps!

Black girl: Reloaded.

Who am I?
I spend a lot time solo (by choice and not). Rolling in my car is when a lot of my thoughts come into play. For the past couple of weeks, I've been in kind of a funky mood, as a result of random nonsense and whatnot. Just haven't been feeling comfortable in my own skin, know what I mean? Today, something hit me like a ton of bricks, as to why I'm not feeling so great. This prompted me to do an inventory of myself, so here goes nothing:

Sometimes I feel so invisible. It's weird how I can get lost in a crowd. The said part is that I recognize it, and that just causes me to clam up more and give up on making any attempt to get noticed. Not really a good response mechanism, but not really controllable. It just happens. From a girl that has been teased essentially all of her life, it's easy to see how this can happen. If you haven't been teased, trust me, that shit does scar you for life.
I have made changes over time. I'm in the process of losing the weight I gained in college. Kinda muscley now, with a little soft filling left over (more to love I guess!). Got braces to straighten out those little imperfections here and there. I tell some of my cohortmates, I'm trying to became the hottest MPHer around. Eye candy and knowledge... a deadly combo.
Aside from physical stuff, I began to analyze my emotional and mental state. Self-diagnosis. And after I met with my advisor about my project, I have some to this conclusion: Black women have a culture of their own, but it sucks how it gets disregarded. I began to think about all the women in my family, but mainly about my grandma and mom, and what attributes I received from them, and this is what I have learned (well, about myself at least). I've gotten very good at concealing my negative emotions. Even if a person pisses me off to the nth degree, breaks my heart, kills my spirit, or stress me out, I hide it. A lot of black women I find do this as a defensive mechanism, to cut down on any worry and pity from others. There is an idea that Black women are the glue that hold families together, and being weak is unaccepted in most instances. I remember when I was a kid, my grandma used to say that there was no such thing as man's or woman's work, because you never know when you'll have to be alone. I still don't know how both she and my mom were able to raised multiple children alone. Thank God for social networking.
I also learned that I cannot take a compliment. My advisor is trying to boost my confidence in my abilities and such, but it's hard. In Jr. high and high school, I remember kids saying dumb ass shit to me when I would get good grades and awards for certain activities. That I was trying to be "White" (which I still don't quite understand. So is being complacent being "Black?" Like I said, I don't get it.). But when I got to college, people didn't give a shit of how hot you were. Talk about tailspin. Sometimes I feel like I have to play both sides, but I lose a bit of myself in the process. The idea of staying grounded and remembering who I am and where I came from, and who is still there, to continuing on, and playing the game so that I can get ahead. I guess that's why I pile so much on my plate. Sometimes, I feel like not only am I representing for myself, but for my family and the people that invested in me to continue. There is also the weight of all the generations before that did not have the opportunity to succeed (either because of the climate of the society they grew up in -- segregation or lynching), all the poor people that were left back, and just all the Black people that didn't have a chance. This weight breaks me at times, but I still press on. I overhear people saying negative shit about my abilities and why I do so much, but if they walked a minute in my shoes, they would shut up pretty damn quick.
Coming to this realization makes me even more charged about my final project idea. My advisor gave me the green light, but I just have to be sure to remain focused. If I am able to help at least one person with myself results, that would do my heart good. Maybe that one person will be myself, and with that, I will no longer be invisible.

Everything old becomes new again...

So this past Tuesday was part two of meeting with my "Cal Dad." I miss him and the program. I wish I could visit more often, but he knows that if he or the program needs anything, I'm there. We talked a bit more about the assessment project I am doing at my school (which is quite interesting), and what I plan on doing in the future. He told me that the program is still going well, and that all the students are great. I tell ya, if it weren't for programs like the Biology Scholar Program, I don't know where I would be. Honestly. The same for other folks that were in a similar situations as I was. First generation college student, from a single-parent household, a struggling high school, oh, and not to mention from a community with a socio-economic status of crap. Mix all that up, and you got a struggle on your hands like you won't believe. Anywho, BSP and my "Cal Parents" John and Caroline helped me find my focus. To let me know that I did deserve to be at Cal and that I was just as qualified as anyone else that was there. Many folks need that and I am glad there are programs in place that provide this type of stability, considering how Cal is a typical "Me, me, me!" environment. He was telling more about how much the gap is widening as it relates to diversity (or lack there of) at UCB. He said that of the incoming freshman, only 30 are African-American. Frickin' 30!!! And of that 30, 10 are athletes. Yay. I would like to venture a guess as to how many of that remaining 20 come from underserved and underrepresented communities. Maybe 1 or 2, if they're lucky. The rest are probably from more affluent communities like the OC. I swear this sickens me. I remember Ward Connerly saying something dumb (not like that's an occasional thing), about how college shouldn't be a mirror. That you shouldn't expect to see people just like you, as you must learn to interact with all kinds of people. That is true to an extent. It depends on who has the mirror and how much windex it needs. When I went to UCB, hardly anyone "looked" like me, but they looked like each other. Where is the balance in that? There were folks that may have been black, but they didn't come from a community like mine. Or from a household like mine. And Ward says that like when you arrive there, everyone is gonna hold hands and sing "Kumbayah" around the Sproul fountain. If he believes that, then the man is more delusional than I thought. Cal was such a shitty place to be at times, but I am thankful that I did have somewhere to go, where people understood and were willing to just listen. On Tuesday, My "Cal Dad" told me that he was proud of me as we parted ways. That almost made me cry. As children, we just want to do our best to make our parents proud (biological, or not). My grandma always used to say that she was investing in us. Not monetarily, but in terms of her time, wisdom, etc. I hope to one day to fully pay all my investors back, with interest.

He is just too damn hot. 

Ooooooh, skillz! (Too bad for teh stupid flash). 

My CO bois 

ISN...

"We've got an issue in America. Too many good docs are getting out of business. Too many OB/GYNs aren't able to practice their love with women all across this country."
- Dubya

To read more about the dullard's Freudian slip, check it out here.

What's your passion?

This past weekend was pretty eventful. Saturday, I kicked most of the day with my sis and the CO Crew. Earlier in the day, we practiced a bit for an event next week, and then the guys prepared for a tournament later that day. At practice, we were just goofin' around (funny ass pics comin' soon... hahahaha), sharing skills and whatnot. As practice grew to a close, the guys became more... i dunno, focused I guess. I didn't realize that the tournament later that day was so intense. Anywhos, me and my sis Tash went to go support the guys. It was a b-boi tournament held in a hot (and I mean hella hot) little warehouse in West Oakland. One-on-one freestyle battles, and four-on-four crews. Some tite shiznit! These folks were so dayum talented, it was amazing! Sometimes you need to be exposed to things like this because they restore a sense of purpose and a desire to become better than you were before. Words cannot explain the energy and charge I got from being there. I mean, aside from watchin' folks represent, these random dance circles would break out, and folks would just show their skills. I always have this hope of being able to do a little of as many dance styles as I can, so at this point, I am still practicing the basics of breaking, popping, and locking. I'm pretty shy about showing it to other folks (especially friends), but here, it didn't matter. I have never been confident in my floor work, but here I was. I guess because my sis and CO were the main motivators. The CO guys are hella cool, and I am happy to have the chance to work with them because they are great guys, and I know that they will be tite at whatever they do. Their passion for dance is infectious.

While I was there though, something came to mind. How come more parents don't support this form of dance? I only saw like two sets of parents there. Unfortunately, one family was there for a tribute to their son that was killed in an auto accident in San Jose earlier this year. They were very supportive of him in life and still carry on his spirit. So powerful. I dunno, maybe some people think what these guys do is nonsense, but if they saw how much dedication they have and desire to do what they do, they would guess again.

The only thing about this event is how ladies don't get very much recognition and support for their skills. During the event, we all crowded around a small patch of linoleum, but as time when on, the space got smaller and smaller. When two ladies were about to battle, the guy goes "I know they just girls, but give them some space." What the hell?!?! Just girls? I guess with their little petite feet and bodies, they only need about an inch o space, no? Bitches (the folks that doubt the ladies that is). And dayum, why did they have to get the slowest and whackest songs to battle to? Lame I tell ya.

Well, despite the last item, and the long ass intermissions, the event was dope! Seven hours of pure hip-hop for only $10? You can't beat that. The next time an event like this comes around, do yourself a favor and go. It's definitely a treat to be had.