sick!

i thoroughly enjoyed this.

yesterday, i was

amazed. aware. joyful. proud. sad. uncertain. gleeful. impressed. grateful. peaceful. connected. excited. inspired. inquisitive. astonished. energetic. curious. elated.

reality, folks.

i just came across this book title:

"Plain Honest Men: The Making of the American Constitution."

i'm sorry, no.

cymbaline, where have you been?

just when i thought i had heard all of pink floyd's best songs

i found this...

which led to this...

*last night i dreamt of shooting stars, spouting like firecrackers across a black sky*

SHOOTING STAR: to see a shooting star in your dream, is a sign of self-fulfilment and advancement. a shooting start is symbolic of a new birth and changes in your life.

just a typical day at the office

i was working the late shift on the national desk; the day after obama was elected as the first black democratic nominee. as you can imagine, i was expecting a pretty dull and uneventful day.

i was wrong.

in the photo below, a man is attempting to scale our building. we were watching the tv in semi-shock, and i say semi-shock only because he was the second, man to climb the building today.

there first, was a professional (otherwise known as "spiderman") who made the climb before i arrived around 3:30 pm.

here's the second climber in action.









here he is again, wearing a shirt that reads, "malaria no more," and on his way to bellevue for observations.




never a dull day. that's for sure.

song of the week

expressing emotions,
they do it well.

healthy destruction for anyone.




(metallica/master of puppets)

listening

english was always my best subject, but i loved biology.

in college, my chosen courses (other then my major; naturally, biological anthropology) were always studio art, film, creative literature & phys. ed. i never stopped through the busy times (i wasn't the average college student; i worked full time) to think about what those things meant.

i always chose biology because i was fascinated with it. i wanted to
be in it. i didn't care that the concepts didn't always come so
natural to me. i had to study hard, especially when it came to physics and chemistry, but i enjoyed the challenge. it gave me a rush.

my grandfather owned a funeral parlor in the south side of
chicago and my aunt kept it up until about the time i was born.
my fascination with the human body was in my blood. my grandmother a nurse, my favorite cousin a pediatrician, my grandfather & aunt both undertakers. biology was a family business.

since kindergarten, i just knew i wanted to be a pediatrician. i still have a picture that i drew from elementary school where i was dressed up in a white coat, stethoscope in hand and palm trees in the background.

wow, how life is different than that picture. here i am, in brooklyn instead of california, dogwoods instead of palms and a paint brush instead of a stethoscope.

i don't study biology anymore; but naturally, i still love it and im
fascinated by science. instead of chromosomes, i study emotions and perceptions. i try to be aware of everything around me. ive been trying to find myself as an artist. ive been searching for that "thing" that people seek to find.

i haven't found it yet, but when i bought this computer, it was
supposed to be for learning graphics. its been 3 months and the only thing ive done is write.

writing has always been an easy way for me to express myself. i would confess my most deep, confused or romantic feelings through letters. even when i was a child, i would leave notes for my mom instead of asking her questions. they would usually read: "can i go out to play? check yes or no."

through writing you can be so honest. expression can be clear in ways that might not work verbally. i praise those that can verbally express themselves with clarity and ease.

back in college when i was having really hard time
emotionally, i would always write about it. id write about the great
times and the terrible times. i loved writing stream of consciousness. i could look back on it and i understood just how i was feeling in the moment.

in all of my sketch books, there's tons of writing. in some, more
writing then sketches. and still, ive never given writing as place on my list of passions.

its so funny when you just take a moment to look at things. in this fast paced city that is new york, i have to say, ive been able
to self reflect. its always true that the best things are usually right in front of you, waiting for you to grab them.

song of the week

she has a way,
of surrounding you,
with surreal visions.



(tracy chapman/for my lover)

my mom said, "no" to drugs

last night, i talked to my mom for the first time in a couple weeks. we were talking about childbirth due to the recent influx of May babies.

she told me that i was a natural delivery. i never knew this. in all these years, i didn't know i was the only one out of my siblings to have a natural birth. when i was younger, i was always inquisitive about my birth and wanted to know what it was like. my dad had it on tape, until one of his friends taped over it with a baseball game.

my mom would tell me small details about her pregnancy with me, but never much about the delivery. i remember the story of my older sister; who used to follow her around the house mocking her every move, grunting, waddling and holding her belly. i also knew from photos that i took a cruise to the big island.

as i got older, she would tell me less and less about my birth. it finally came to the point where she'd chuckle and say, "look at your baby book, i've had four children!" so id go back to my brown and yellow cloth covered book in search of answers. i remember the cover had a poem on it and a brown baby, that was supposed to represent me. the pages were filled with comments on my first solid foods, the funny faces i made and immunization dates. the baby book was my main portal back to this delivery scene.

last night must have been a special. as my mother shared the news about my natural delivery, she talked in more detail then ever before.

a team of nurses massaged her and encouraged breathing. music played in the background, and i came into the world. she described it all so gracefully, as if i just "came." i'm sure i was not at all this glamorous, but last night, my mom made it sound easy. she pushed through.

i started to think about how mood & environment affects the whole process of giving birth. when she told me there music playing it made sense. i have a relationship with music. it brings on emotions that can sometimes be indescribable.

music heals.

when its best, its pulled from the soul.

blood, sweat. and tears.

last night, when i sat and thought about our conversation something inside me clicked. i felt a lost piece of me jump back into my soul.

its such a comforting feeling to hear something that you already know about yourself - from someone else. especially, your mother.


(art: beatien yazz, mother and child)

song of the week

summer is coming.
blue skies and beaming sun.
sweet licks for your ears.

(red house/jimi hendrix)

the weight of words

last night, i stumbled upon a website after doing some art therapy reflection exercises. the activities consisted of imagining my visual inner self vs. my outer self, thinking of the most beautiful place and drawing consistently without pre-conceived thoughts. that last one was pretty hard. its like meditation. your mind always seems to get ahead of you. one minute you're scribbling rhythmically and the next you think, "oooo, i'm going to make a bunch of pretty circles! dag, brain. stop giving me ideas." the mind has to be calmed, and when its mellow, there's an unbelievable feeling of peace. after the exercises, i was instructed to share my feelings about the words, drawings and symbols that poured out of me. i started thinking about symbolism and how it affects people subconsciously. so this is when i found...the site.

i googled "symbolism,"and came across a "dictionary of symbolism," created by someone at the university of michigan. while scrolling through the alphabet, i see the word "black." my antlers were already up because i knew where this was going (in most cases) and they proved my theory correct.

Black
Black represents a lack of color, the primordial void, emptiness. It can also mean sorrow or mourning, in the Christian tradition of wearing black to funerals. In this respect it can also symbolize death. Black is also linked to witchcraft (Black Magic), evil, and the unknown, as the predominant color worn by "evil witches" in colonial America. The stock market crash of 1929, dubbed "Black Tuesday" further links the color with loss, depression, and despair.

i knew it would say this and i was really hoping that it wouldn't. as a child, my mom always provided positive examples of "blackness," in a country where "black," is always negative.

outside of the home, my teachers and peers said; "black is ugly, evil, death."

at home, my mother said; "black is beautiful, strong, mighty."

times haven't changed much since then.

White
White may be defined either as the absence of all color or the presence of all colors of the light spectrum, and can represent either innocence or the ultimate goal of purification. White is often the heavenly, while BLACK is the underworld. It is LIGHT, AIR, life, holiness, love, redemption. The white flag is a symbol of surrender or friendship. this mentality that white is represents "the good" and black represents "the bad" (because god forbid there is an in between) is long standing.

black people are continuously represented as un-educated, athletic, tap-dancing, aggressive, chicken-eating, 40-drinking, gold-teeth-having, gold-chain wearing, rapping, baby-making, unemployed, criminals. this common representation goes along with old ideologies of categorizing people based on their appearance.

i'm aware that these are not the only ways in which we are represented but this personification is like an epidemic.

i recently read an article where several young black boys were sent home for shaving lines into their eyebrows.

when i was in high school, the football team used to shave each other's heads as part of an initiation process. even though they looked like skinheads, i don't think i ever heard of them being sent home.

we need unification. positivity. hope.

so many lost youth. so many distant elders. so many locked up. so many dead. brainwashed. un-willing. un-available, emotionally.

these theories,

that were founded by the principles,

of the "founding fathers,"

need to find their way to the trash.

burn these ideas.

we need love.