Beyond the Usual

Since summer school has begun, I have found myself waking up every morning to a man cutting the grass in front of the dorm I stay in. However, I wonder, WHERE THE HELL IS ALL THIS GRASS HE IS CUTTING?!!?! Every day, and I do mean everyday, he is out there cutting grass. Mind you, this is at six thirty or so in the morning, about two and a half hours before I really get up.

I like their ambition, they do their job well, but I just doubt all these things to be cut really exist.

Well today I woke up to chain saws cutting down the Jumanji vines that cover the window. I kinda of liked them. I 'm an outdoorsy person anyways but I guess I shall enjoy the vines elsewhere.

"Niggas Love Not To Know"

Niggas love not to know. Simple. And no one put it better than Chris Rock. The other day I had a conversation with someone who I think I might have expected too much from based on the age and the amount of ambition I estimated this person to have based on their major.

What I realized from this conversation which I should have realized before is I was giving this person, who I will further refer to as Kool-Aid (for no particular reason), too much credit. In fact, they told me, "Hey I'm just a regular person, I don't know what you expect from me." It honestly wasn’t that I expected any particular smidgens of knowledge from this person, I think it was the magnitude for learning and the openness for knowledge that I was expecting, but I was abruptly proved wrong.

I think what I was expecting an absence of confused looks and the "why the fuck is she talking about this?" look. But Kool-Aid took it to the next level. Instead of holding his thoughts to himself, and remaining just ignorant to that particular piece of knowledge, he said, "well I don't know, I just know...." and right there is when I realized I was talking to a Nigga.

Kool-Aid went on to break the scenario down into some simpleton ass situation. And it wasn’t that he was a nigga because he didn’t know, or laughed off that he didn’t know. He wasn’t even a nigga because his joke became somewhat lewd (I was far from impressed).Kool-Aid was a nigga because he didn’t embrace the knowledge, and unlike everyone else at the table, he had to take it that step further and profess that he didn’t know. What happened to the plain shoulder shrug and the awkward silence?

After all, why is ignorance still cool? Why is ignorance still cool in college, the one place in the world where being intelligent has never been more in? This was just one situation but I have come across and will come across many people that just don’t know, and won’t know. I think it is a matter of capacity and how much information they are willing to take in.

I Can't Believe It Either

Thank you to my fellow facebook friend who made this point. But since this is my blog, I get to take this to where I would like it to go.

Sorry to all you Wanyiacs, but what language is Lil' Wayne speaking in "Can't Believe It"? I like this song, it's got this nice little two step beat accompanied by the voice box, but the voice box is not flattering on all voices.

In this case, the voice box did Lil' Wayne no justice, so much that I don't even understand the lyrics. Now if I'd like to sing along with the lyrics, I have to google them and have them on deck. However, for incidences like this, I'd have to thank T-Pain for killing us softly with that synthesizer, a.k.a. the voice box. But that is another blog for another day.

Haters

Thought I'd make this quick just to pose another question. I always joke around with my best friend about haters. Yea, your typical hater, the one that wants to, shall I say, "steal your shine". I still feel like this subject is so high school.

Everyone is always concerned about people hating on them. Why can't we just call it an opinion. And of course, EVERYONE is guilty of hating, this I can say confidently, despite that fact that everyone says they never hate.

And sometimes its not even an issue of jealousy. Maybe I just don't like what you're about at the moment. Hey, it happens. You can't please all of the people all of the time. You can't even please some of the people most of the time.

So in that case, if no one likes haters, and no one is a hater, why is everyone still concerned about haters?


note to reader: i do not endorse "shitting" on haters, I was merely amused by the picure

Swag Attacks and Wall Flowers

Today I'm in a writing mood. Also let it be known that I coined the phrase swag attack, so if you hear it nowhere else you heard it from me first.

Today I am mostly inspired by last nights events, yes my friends, another party. Now, I don't use my waking moments as an opportunity to sweat out my hair and shake my derrière, but I do enjoy activities of the sort (minus sweating out the hair). After all, it's fun, requires almost no mental operation and its super social. But, I've realized there are three types of people: those who party, the wall flowers and those who have swag attacks.

Each and every party I go to, I'm forced to wonder who would come to a party to just stand around? Can we say high school dance, 9th grade, in the cafeteria? And not only do these people stand around, they occupy a lot of space. They can never stand alone either, its as if there was a congregational rule that says : if you must post up, never post alone. And if you haven't noticed, because I have, these are the ultimate spectators. It makes me laugh to to think they left the house with intentions to party, told all their friends their whereabouts, never really partied, and came home to say the party cracked.

Which leads me to the next question: Do these people really deserve to to have an opinion about the party even though they only contributed to the population and not the fun? I must, however, give much credit to the person standing to my left having the swag attack of his life.

In case you were not aware, a swag attack is when a male or female (usually a male), has become the life of the party in his/her own mind. Such symptoms include singing all the words to the song as if they were in a recording studio, knowing all the ad libs, hand gestures, a variety of engaging facial expressions, a crowd performance and a suave two-step. This is when I start to think I might be in music video, real life wouldn't do this to me. But then again, life just did.

I do love swag attacks, though. One thing the wall flowers are good for is company during down time as I watch those suffering from a swag attack. So, once again, pour the swag attackees a drink, post up with the posted and wait for the party to crack.

*random photo courtesy of googling thug party.

"...Impell Them to the Seperation."

After a conversation with a few friends at the dinner table, we were faced with the fact that America is a country of everyone's culture but their own. Among other things mentioned from the Olympics, to scars to bobcats (lol), we just realized that America has an abundance of culture, but no culture at all.

The conversation began when we were talking about the little Chinese lip-synchining girl, then all the Chinese children carrying the flag in a variety of traditional clothing. I thought: what if this would have been American children carrying the flag? What would they have worn? It might have been a mixture of Vans sneakers, skinny jeans, cowboy hats, Fubu jackets, hypebeasts, punkrockers, Paris Hiltons, college students, orthopedic-shoe wearing elderly people, soccer moms and CEO's. And believe that they would not have all be Chinese either.

Now don't get the wrong impression, I love America, and not just because the Patriot Act prohibits me from saying otherwise. I love America because where else can you get tacos, cheeseburgers and curry chicken all in one place? I love America because where else can you unintentionally become famous for being bipolar and swearing at a random old woman on the train? Where everyone knows you because you have a name like Crunchy Black, Soulja Boy or Garth (as in Garth Brooks).

But in all seriousness, I really do love America. Despite governmental faults, America is still the land of opportunity and prosperity. And along with all the opportunity comes the opportunity for all ethnicities to assimilate and contribute to what America is. On a small scale I go to school with people who are first generation American, where in my classrooms are people who like like me or nothing like me at all in 25 different ways. But on a large scale we have fast food companies that capitalize on introducing new cultures to us, i.e. Taco Bell.

Because America has no specific culture, we have really become a melting pot. I really see America as a land full of immigrants, after all, what really is American? I also think that because of such diversity, no specific ethnicity will exist in about five generations, but thats just me and my California state of mind.

But the fact is, America does not lack culture at all. I think its effervescent with culture, and I love the diversity. I know other locations across the country may prove me wrong about the diversity part, but that what makes America what it is.

So, I'll leave you with a few last words:
"American history is longer, larger, more various, more beautiful, and more terrible than anything anyone has ever said about it" -James Baldwin

Adele: 19

On to a new endeavor. This time I'll spill my feelings about Adele. I'm pretty sure even you don't know who she is because she is about as recluse as Amy Winehouse in rehab. Umm...not really. Like Amy Winehouse, Adele is an artist out of the UK and I'm almost in love with her album "19".

Her lyrics wax despair but the sound in soothing. I can't help but be fond of her for now until I discover the next best thing. So yes, she is another artist fueled by heatbreak and past relationships, but I think she is easily a classic.

I really don't know much about her except that I think she is just as comparable to artists like Amy Winehouse, Me'Shell NdegéOcello or even Chrisette Michelle, in her sound though. Enough of the praise, listen to her yourself.

Remember "I" before "E" Except in Budweiser

Its hot, its muggy, someone else's sweat is dripping on you, someone else just stepped on your entire foot but you quickly let this go because you didn't come here to fight. Red solo cups, beer cans, glass handles, a dark room and music loud enough to make an elderly person go blind (yes, blind), and all this wouldn't be possible if it wasn't for our well known party advocate: Mr. CH₃CH₂OH, better known as alcohol, drank, booze or whatever else you choose to call it.
From freakbacks to kickbacks to those parties the fire marshal would deem hazardous, alcohol is undeniably the number one constituent. In fact whoever said they were the life of the party obviously didn't realize they were living in the shadows of Barcardi, Popov and that one blue drink.

If there was enough to drink, its automatically considered a party. Hell, even if there weren't enough, you showed up too late or the party just happened to occur where you stayed sober all night consider it a party anyways, someone else drank all the liquor for you. And its almost guaranteed that at every party you'll be brought back to Kat Williams' "The Pimp Chronicles" with someone yelling on the sideline, "TONIGHT...WE'RE GETTIN' FUCKED UP."

And not to mention how alcohol is every drunk person's excuse. Yes, I too am guilty. After all it is thee best excuse. Its like the get-out-of-jail-free card and it didn't require a trip to boardwalk avenue with a Rodney King beating riding along side (because the police are still ready and willing). And alcohol isn't just the excuse for a couple stumbles over that same person's foot, it's the excuse for a few hook-ups (just a few), belligerency and plain disorientation. Although my need for excuses is rare, I still even find myself brushing off things that are too serious for sobriety because alcohol was involved. I even find swag and confidence rising to levels unheard of, because after all, if they just make an ass of themselves, we'll just blame it on the alcohol.

So the next time you find yourself amused by someone at a party singing all the lyrics to your song with a lisp, stutter and a suave stumble, go on and pour them some more and excuse them... they usually aren't this entertaining when sober.

"Come Holla I Got the Dollas, Got More If Ya A** Will Swallow"

I'm guilty, real guilty in fact. This blog can go either one of two ways, the side where I ask where has all the good music gone, or why do I still "shake that money" to song that could never validate my womanhood? Well on this day, I'll just get at the question that questions the quality of music (I'll save the womanhood issue for another day).

To begin, let me give you a list of the top five hip hop songs currently, as detailed by Billaboard.com

1. A Milli

2. Get Like Me
3. Bust It Baby Part 2

4. Put On
5. Got Money

(I was just thinking about the content of these songs)

So when I say I'm guilty, what I'm really guilty of is knowing the words to these songs, singing them as if I wrote the lyrics myself and dancing to them as if my tuition depended on it. But I can't help but question where has all the good music gone? I know Lil' Wayne has punchlines for days but where is the substance. I've figured eventually the typical rapper knows he can't talk about drugs, guns, bitches, hoes and his cash flow forever but really, has music really gotten any better?

I'm kinda looking for a song that will give me more than just a swag attack, a song that will more than just the opportunity to drop it low, or hang over the wall of the VIP whenever I get the chance to get in because clubs cost too much. Listening to everyone get on that synthesizer hype and the punchline bandwagon makes me miss groups like The Roots, or Musiq, and even the old Lil Wayne.
I guess I could just look at it as Hip Hop is not dead, its just evolved like every other type of music and this is what it has turned into. Don't get me wrong though, I do like the music, its catchy as hell, but I'm only forced to evaluate the content when artists are more oriented with the quantity of music they put out rather than the quality.

Well I'll leave you with the last line of the night:

"put your right hand in the air and the left one in your underwear...."