Another poli-blog. And then not-so-much.

I’m going to scream. What is with me and this obsession with contemporary politics? This is supposed to be a pointless blog full of pointless drivel about my silly and trivial life. Fortunately, I do not feel like sharing my own opinions most of the time so I troll the Times (you know which one I’m talking about) for other people’ opinions instead.Today’s installment:

Republican blogger Dan Schnur sounds of on the candidates, Democrat and Republican and why he would rather have MCain face Obama in the general election. Read it. 

So I’m broke as a joke. Fortunately, I’m a pretty girl and have been finessing my womanly ways into getting free meals. Or maybe I just have nice friends. Hmmm. I’d prefer to think I’m just really hot.

I’ve got an absolutely insane and absurd schedule next month. Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday I will be in Advanced Computer Graphics from 9a-5p. Not bad, in Full Sail land. But Wednesday and Friday is where the absurdity fairy has decided to sprinkle her little dust. I’ll be trapped in Geometry and Measurement from 1p-5p, get a little breakie, and be expected to report back to sit some more from 9p-1a. Yes, math until 1 in the morning. With the expectation to go back to class at 9 in the morning. Does anyone sense a bit of a problem here?! Hopefully, this is simply one of those funny little Full Sail scheduling irregularities. Right? Oh God, why hast thou forsaken me?

Sounds of blackness.

Welcome to my latest preoccupation: black American identity and perception. I have a tremendous interest in the human experience in general, but lately that interest has gone into overdrive. My world, everything from the success of Barack Obama to my girl against the world role at school, seems to be drawing closer and closer to my identity as a black woman.

I stumbled across this op-ed piece while doing my early morning perusal of NYTimes.com. A piece written by black American living in England, it’s an interesting take on the term “African American”:

Go Back to Black

By K. A. DILDAY

Published: February 27, 2008

London

I’m black again. I was black in Mississippi in the 1970s but sometime in the 1980s I became African-American, with a brief pause at Afro-American. Someone, I think it was Jesse Jackson, in the days when he had that kind of clout, managed to convince America that I preferred being African-American. I don’t. Read the rest.

Just a little food for thought.

 

No more fuck.

It’s all better.Thanks for your concern. If anyone would like to lend me some cash, that’d be awesome though. 

The ‘creek makes me cry.

Dawson’s Creek is an absolutely absurd show. I’m supposed to buy that these children are indeed children and just take their dramatic lives and incredibly sophisticated dialogue at face value. For instance, Joshua Jackson’s character Pacey was dangerously close to failing out of high school, yet he just said, “My dear friend, that girl is in dire need of following.” Dire need? What uneducated hooligan proclaims their dire need of something or another? Another character upon receiving a crass sexual pass smiles coquettishly and bats her eyes at the hitter-onner and says, “Ohhhh, Am I too believe that was a bit of a sexual overture?”Another one: “This guy is a creep to an exponential degree.”These children have torrid affairs and then proceed to wax philosophical whilst taking jabs at each other.Why was this show so succesful? If anyone in the whole wide world is reading this, please answer me.This is a matter of life or death. Or not at all. But still.

Awww fuck.

I’ve messed up the formatting of my blog somewhere around here.I don’t know where it happened or who did it (ok, I did it) but it’s pissing me off and I’d really prefer to blame this shit on someone else.Damn you, tricky hidden accidental fucking up of html!

Let’s get physical.

 

You see that bike? I want it. Thank you, Sylvia, for giving me the courage to make demands in my blog. It’s honestly a pretty good idea. Where else do I completely have the floor, free from others input or permission?Just in case you have a couple of extra bucks and have become enamored with me through my eloquent writing, you can get the bike here. Just think of me next time you’re surfing the web. Hold on. Scratch that. Sounds a little sketch.I haven’t done a damn thing I was supposed to do today. I will, however, forgive myself. Oh, wait, did I mention that a bunch of cars got broken into behind my apartment building last night? Craaaazy.

How Love Is.

I spotted a notice for an essay contest on NYTimes.com while I was supposed to be paying attention to a riveting lecture on color theory last week. (Oops.) I’m not sure if I’m going to have enough time to plug out a publish-worthy narrative before the March 24^th deadline, (damn you, Full Sail schedule!) but the topic piqued my interest nonetheless. Here’s the gist:

Hey, college kid! Give us a little peek into the tragic cycle of serial monogamy and random hook-ups that we of the older, more stable generation will heretofore refer to as “modern love.”  

At least that’s how I read it. I’ve needed some inspiration for a good essay for a while and I just happen to trip over this prompt while scanning my morning news. Now that’s what I call destiny. I’ll keep you updated on the progress. More later. Maybe today.

I feel.

Personal time, folks! Read it if you wish. 

A divided allegiance.

I have always been immensely interested in the political process; trying to always do my casual best to keep abreast of the issues of the world, especially in regards to my own country. I have been tremendously disappointed with the outcomes of the last two major political elections of my adult life (Gore’s Loss, Kerry’s utter dullness) but I have finally met a process I can get excited about. There are three impressive candidates on the democratic ticket (I’m officially unaffiliated with either party, but I definitely lean to the Left) and the front runners, Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton, are about to make history.I’m the embodiment of a proud back woman and honestly, would be thrilled to have either Hillary or Barack make it to the white House. Being mildly addicted to New York Times.com, I have invested hours reading article upon article about the war between the Dems. Disregarding the many issues that led me to chose one candidate over the other, it was this quote that led me confirm that I had made the right choice in what aspect of myself I chose to represent:

During a heated meeting in New York City’s Steinway Hall in 1869, Stanton wondered, “Shall American statesmen … so amend their constitutions as to make their wives and mothers the political inferiors of unlettered and unwashed ditch-diggers, bootblacks, butchers and barbers, fresh from the slave plantations of the South?” At which point, Douglass rose, paid tribute to Stanton’s years of work on civil rights for all, and replied, “When women, because they are women, are hunted down through the cities of New York and New Orleans; when they are dragged from their houses and hung from lampposts; when their children are torn from their arms and their brains dashed out upon the pavement; when they are objects of insult and rage at every turn; when they are in danger of having their homes burnt down… then they will have an urgency to obtain the ballot equal to our own.”