Self-pity

I am the most selfish of fools.

Sometimes I feel so unmotivated. I'm not where I wanna be going on 24 yrs. old and I think I've pretty much given up on life. I feel like I have potential I don't care to reach. I feel like there's things I wanna do without actively pursuing it. I want a lap-drop. I want the hand-out. It's weird. Not caring , procrastinating, knowing deep in my mind that if I wanted to I could change everything. Drastically. Quickly. Efficiently. But here I sit every night in my bed, high as a kite, wondering if I ever wanted to change to begin with. If I ever want to face the real world or do I want to continue living in the fantasies of a constantly deluded mind cushioned by invisible good fortune. Living vicariously through anything or anyone outside the box, falling in love with it, smothering it to death, then finding something else to feed my addictions. I'm content most times with it just there. My life that is. Never too crazy, never productive enough. Just drifting in between on cruise control on the road of Ordinary. Content with the thought that average is enough. The most priveleged of mediocracy am I. How tragic if Caesar were content to be the wall flower, if Napoleon made excuses of his height, or Lincoln overcome by cowardice.

I too can change the world. I can? I could.....have.

I wish I could figure out why I'm such a lazy bastard. I sound so immature. Like a stubborn 5 yr old child. Why can't I have? Why Why Why?

I sound pathetic. No one has to tell me.

I know I do.

Hermit Habits

As I slowly approach the ripening age of 24 in approximately 2 weeks, this past weekend has revealed to me that I am a homebody. Perhaps, actually, this perspective is incorrect as I have never really been one that has wanted to explore the outside world. For the past 4 yrs, I have thrown myself in social circles, groups, churches, mingling with people, starting random interesting conversations and debates. All because I could and not so much that I wanted to.

My mother tells me people are generally attracted to my personality. That its a leadership aura I give off that draws people to me but because of my public shyness that sometimes hinders me to speak or lack of interest to do so, people eventually fall from me. I thought that was a silly statement till my youth pastor had said the same thing.

Honestly, I don't know what leadership qualities I possess, however, I do find when I go to parties or meet new people through friends I'll say 1 or 2 things that are within my usual range of sarcastic wit and by the end of the night I have a few new numbers in my cell phone from people that wanna hang out more. I don't call them. At most, maybe the occasional facebook message. I've seem to have lost interest in people. To me being social is a chore. I used to be the shyest thing on the planet but in an effort to make friends I forced myself to step out of my shell years ago. But deep down, I don't think it was ever something I enjoyed doing all that much. I never enjoyed being social but I didn't enjoy being bored more. I'd go to parties only because "there'd be nothing else to do".

When I was younger, a lot of the kids around where I live would drink and come from alcoholic families and get in bad drunken accidents where they killed their friends. Almost every year in high school, another classmate or 2 would be missing. I honestly never drank when I was underage. Afraid of the alcoholism that ran rampant on my father's side of the family I didn't actually touch alcohol till I was 22 yrs old. Then I realized as I got older, those same people would still drink. There was never any other way to have a good time but to drink.They never took responsibility, never grew up. Its like all these years later after my teens and there is still nothing to do where I live but alcohol shops, bars, and diners. It's finally driving me insane.

The "Me" on here is a way different "Me" in person. In essence though they're still both the "real me", I think somewhere down the line that's bothered me. I'd like the Me's to meet more often, however, there are no outlets around here for the "Writer Me" to flourish and grow, for the "Intellectual Me" to learn, and for the "Funny Me" to sharpen my wit.

My pathetic attempts at finishing school were becoming droll, but as I realize how smothering this place is I'm realizing I need to really finish in order to finally move on with my life and I'm not getting anywhere in this economy without a degree.

I feel old. Not cuz I'm 24. I've been feeling old...mentally. And physically from work I've been exhausted and emotionally drained. This whole weekend I spent indoors mostly sleeping, went out to a club with Jimmie where he drank himself into a sick drunken stupor, got home, slept, and saturday watched the new Bond movie (which I abhorred but that will be another blog) then came home and slept some more. I didn't call any of my friends...most of them having moved to NYC or otherwise since fall anyway.

I think it's that same sign of depression I used to have in high school. Unmotivated to get out of bed, tired all the time. The weather doesn't help. I'm becoming more wary of it. I let myself slip this weekend but this week I'm going to force myself to get up and make a list of activities to do for fun before work.

Since I'm not taking the meds to combat it I need to make sure I make action plans to prevent the depression. I don't want to become that same girl from before. Her sadness is frightening and her mind, fragile.

New Race Discovered During the Olympics: Welcome Spasians

So Spain is in hot racial waters after putting up an ad in what most people called a mockery of the Chinese. The men and women's team is running an ad in Spain for the Olympics where they push their eyes back to make them look slanted in "tribute to the Chinese".

AP-The photo, which has been running as a newspaper spread in Spain since Friday, shows all 15 players making the gesture on a basketball court adorned with a Chinese dragon. The photo was part of a publicity campaign for team sponsor Seur, a Spanish courier company, and is being used only in Spain.
"It was something like supposed to be funny or something but never offensive in any way," said Spain center Pau Gasol, who also plays for the Los Angeles Lakers. "I'm sorry if anybody thought or took it the wrong way and thought that it was offensive."
Point guard Jose Manuel Calderon said the team was responding to a request from the photographer.
"We felt it was something appropriate, and that it would be interpreted as an affectionate gesture," Calderon, who plays for NBA's Toronto Raptors, wrote on his ElMundo.es blog. "Without a doubt, some ... press didn't see it that way."

The OCA, an organization representing Asian-Pacific Americans, also found the photo disturbing. "It is unfortunate that this type of imagery would rear it's head at a time that is supposed to be about world unity," George Wu, the group's deputy director, said in a statement.
The Spanish women's basketball team also posed for photo doing the same thing, and four members of Argentina's women's Olympic football team were shown making similar faces in a photograph published last week.
Gasol said it was "absurd" people were calling the gesture racist.
"We never intended anything like that," he said.
The Spanish basketball federation declined to comment Wednesday. "The players explained what happened," Villanueva said. "We think that's enough."

It's not the first time Spanish sports has encountered questions over racist attitudes, and the photo comes at a time when Madrid is vying to host the Olympics.
"We're surprised by the remarks of racism," said Juan Antonio Villanueva, the communications director for the city's 2016 Olympic bid. "Spain is not a racist country -- quite the opposite."
Formula One driver Lewis Hamilton was subjected to abuse at a Barcelona circuit in February, while former Spain coach Luis Aragones also used a racist remark about France striker Thierry Henry to motivate one of his players. Monkey chants rained down on England's black players during an international friendly against Spain in a match played in Madrid in 2004, soon after Aragones' outburst.

The basketball federation had just signed a four-year contract extension with Chinese clothing brand Li Ning shortly after arriving in the Chinese capital for the games.
"We have great respect for the far East and its people, some of my best friends in Toronto are originally Chinese, including one of our sponsors, the brand Li Ning," Calderon wrote. "Whoever wants to interpret it differently is completely confusing it."
Frank Zhang, Li Ning's director of government and public affairs, played down the incident.
"We don't think this is an insulting gesture to the Chinese," Zhang said. "In fact, the gesture shows that the Spanish team is so humorous, relaxing and cute. They sat around a dragon pattern, which we think showed respect to the Chinese.
"Li Ning Ltd. will not change any business plans with the Spanish team because of this," Zhang added. "People should focus on great Olympic Games instead of something else."

So the Spanish Olympic Basketball Men and Women's team thought it would be cute to push their eyes into a slant to mimic the Chinese and had the gall to call it a "compliment". (I love the dragon on the floor too by the way guys. Makes it look real "authentic".)

What is wrong with these people? What shocks me is that they're so ignorant they don't even see what's wrong after their ignorance is so clearly displayed to the world. Especially after having a history of being racist during sports. I don't see how this is going to boost Madrid's 2016 Olympic bid in their favor.

I mean everyone knows I'm an Asianophile and practically worship and admire almost everything from the far east, but even I felt a slight tinge of embarassment and even stupid when imitating stereotypes in front of the race.

Like the time I went shoe shopping with my mother and we picked out these cute little flat shoes. I exclaimed "They're like geisha shoes!!" and shuffled around the shoe department with my hands clasped which made my mother roar in amusement. She asked me to do it again and when I started to I stopped immediately in my tracks as I saw an Asian man looking at men's shoes less than 10 feet away. I don't know if he saw me or not but I whispered to my mother, "I can't" and shook my head in his direction. She then stopped and looked and exclaimed "Rasheeda! That's terrible you oughta be ashamed of yourself." and walked away while I stood there mouth agape and left to simmer in my own embarassment.

So yeah, ok. That's flattering guys. Real flattering. About as flattering as a bunch of white basketball players wearing gold chains with fried chicken drumsticks in their hands saying their paying homeage to the black basketball players they admire.

I guess though if they signed an endorsement with Rocawear though, it'd make everything ok. :-/ *rolls eyes*

World Epiphany

Insight to what's going on
Information keeps us strong
What you don't know can hurt you bad
Take it from me you'll be walkin around sad
Cryin for a better day
Until you educate for a better way
So if you wanna be in control
Ya gotta get yourself in the know

Get the knowledge

---Janet Jackson's "The Knowledge" from the album Rhythm Nation


As I read last week's Newsweek magazine that I stole out of the doctor's office a few days ago I am once again enthralled by world issues. I realize just how small of a mind fence living in America has cause my lack of education about global issues has caused me to be. I read about the struggles of China and their historical humiliation that drives them to their own egotistical mindset. I also read about the beginnings of commercialism and politics that streamed into the Olympics during the 1960's and how the Olympics came about. I learned today during break about the Russian invasion in Georgia, and how America is playing bluff n' puff threatening to take action knowing we can't with our troops spread thin in Iraq and Afghanistan. As I sat through long, boring calls at work I read about China's madness during the preparation for the Olympics. I watched in the break room as they fought vigorously through each event determined by any means to dominate each sport. I watched with fascination and admiration.

I remember how so into politics and news I was and why I loved it again. It sparked the writer in me. I found my passion.

I wanted to imbibe every word, suck in every scene, decipher each history of every country I read about as I came to the realization of my lack of knowledge about the history of things that have caused the current events. I began to think madly about hitting the bookstore searching for books that would give me both objective and non-objective views on each subject. To submerge my interests and expand it as I discovered each European and Asian country's progress in history as they find their own economic struggle to gain global economic status.

I filled out a subscription card to Newsweek during work and have plans to mail it tomorrow along with a subscription card to get Time magazine as well.

I realize now again why I want to become a journalist. Why the only subject that ever grasped my attention all through my academic life was history. How I wanted to break through the barriers of my limited knowledge and be more like my mother who could tell me the history of the most obscure things and rattle it off with ease. It seems people born outside of the U.S. always teach me more than I ever seem to know. My mother, who is a very well-read former book publisher who was born and raised in the country of Trinidad until the age of 13, has such an amazing vast amount of knowledge through the things she learned through her love of books.

I want to take that knowledge for myself and treasure it.

My goal this month is not only to conquer school (which I currently re-enrolled in full time for the first time in over a year) and still maintain a full-time job but to read, read, read as much as possible about every aspect of the world and drown myself outside of the country in a world full of books. Perhaps I'll even explore the towering bookshelves stapled into my house that contain books which pages have not been turned in perhaps more than a decade.

I'm so happy to be passionate about something again I could literally cry.

Emo-Morphisis

"The silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence. It was my own silence."--Sylvia Plath from The Bell Jar

I wish I could be a person who wasn't so sentimental.
It bothers me losing touch with people. Even people I've once considered friends and have hurt me.

I had a good friend once. She was a former co-worker. We had a falling out and I remember we had an argument over my being "fake". I called what she often dished out as "brutal honesty" a sign of her own insecurity.

With those words, we parted.

But her words turned over in my head. Even now though it was 2 years ago our fight had happened. And I realized how right she may have been about the person I was then. Because I was so into my depression and my pain I didn't realize she was hurting even more. Life had treated us so shitty then. She had gotten the brunt of most of it since she was young. Her life was turbulent, violent, loud. Mine was a more silent emotional suffering. I had sunk so deep into my depression then that I didn't acknowledge the abundance of good things around me. I didn't realize anyone else's pain. I just quietly accepted my selfishness.

In that, I think I drove her into her own anger and jealousy even further. The things I had, she lacked. Stable family structure, long-term friends. She had no one. She lived with her boyfriend and his family for 4 yrs. Her family abandoned her. She made her own way when she was young. She told me horror stories from her past like they were nothing. Like it didn't bother her at all. But you would have to not be human for them to not have affected you.

I think we were jealous of each other in different ways. I was fascinated at how she seemingly overcame her circumstances and noted her independence as worthy of admiration. She looked at my smothering mother and familial structure as something she had never had but wanted. She took an odd attraction to my mother. Almost like she was fighting her for attention coming out of the stock room to say hi to her when I told her my mother was stopping by the store to visit. She even called my cell to talk to my mother to wish her a happy birthday.

Then her boyfriend betrayed her, cheated on her, and left her. I had no idea. It would've explained her constant sad demeanor but I didn't realize it until after we had parted and I came upon an old blog of hers.

To this day I think that's why I have clung to so many people with unusual eccentricities and befriended them. People that by definition would be considered social outcasts in this world. Friends most people wouldn't be able to tolerate in a room for more than 5 minutes. In essence, I've developed this superhero complex trying to save people and give them a helping hand and a listening ear.

It got to the point I was over-exerting myself and causing myself more emotional stress and pain than before. So I rationed my attention to those I could and if I couldn't help them I began to accept the fact that some things were out of my control. Even in my own life I began to realize this.

In throwing myself into good local causes I think I lost a part of myself that used to ignite the writer in me. I've kept my own pain silent again but this time I shared it with no one for fear they'd hate me for my complaining when I should have nothing to complain about. Like she did. And I've even kept it from my writing. I became afraid of judgement. In that emotional pain and suffering there was life and color in the words I chose. Now I let it die inside me and push it back choosing to swallow it non-chalantly as one would acknowledge their daily swallowing of their own sailva.

Everyday, I feel myself slipping more under into the crashing waves of an ordinary person, living an ordinary life, losing my desire to fulfill my extraordinary dreams. I've lost passion in the things I once thought worth pursuing. I'm content with the fact I've not honed the discipline to pursue them.

And even though I feel myself slipping into this trance I don't feel the urge to fight it anymore.

And that scares me incredibly.

I'm not sure what to do or how to act on it. If I can even save myself from slipping into the dark shadows of dullness. Of assimilation. Of loss of my own individuality.

So I decided to blog again. To find some spark of passion. To save my life. To release my pain.

I'm typing for my life and in this I'm hoping to find the person I once was. Maybe not entirely. But the person that once loved the world of books and writing and lived vicariously through the vivid worlds the words of authors brought to life in my mind. I want to be able to do the same for people.

At the same time, I shouldn't always need the suffering, and depression, and the pain to be vibrant. I shouldn't have to slip back into the darkness I fought so hard to escape.

Is it in my happiness that I've lost passion? I'm living well now. I have a decent job. I have a working car. I have a loving family. The things I should have acknowledged before as a blessing I'm now acknowledging as I grow older.

Is writing only at its best when you're at your worst?

I don't want to believe it.

It reminds me of the backlash of Mary J. Blige when she got married and put out an album about happy relationships and love rather than her usual songs about broken-heartedness and domestic abuse. Her album sales dropped and the urban community screamed 'murder' of the R&B artist. Why should she sacrafice her happiness for her art? Why should I? Just because the content is different doesn't mean she's lost her skill as a singer as I haven't lost mine as a writer.

But still I want to become better and better. And then there are times I want to let the words slip into a bottomless ocean and lose them there and not even try to search for them.

Wow. What am I even saying? It is so late right now.

I'm emo. Oh my god....I am so emo......

I think this is the most insightful blog I've written in a while.

Once in a while I think about reaching out to her. My old friend. To let her know I understand now. That I'm sorry I didn't count my blessings like I should have. That I'm sorry I didn't share more of those blessings with her. That I didn't offer her the hope or consolation she needed. But I know everything happens for a reason and people come in and out of your life like the seasons.

And in the end, no matter how many leaves you have the things that root you to the ground is what makes you truly grow.

Emo-morphisis

I wish I could be a person who wasn't so sentimental.
It bothers me losing touch with people. Even people I've once considered friends and have hurt me.

I had a good friend once. She was a former co-worker. We had a falling out and I remember we had an argument over my being "fake". I called what she often dished out as "brutal honesty" a sign of her own insecurity.

With those words, we parted.

But her words turned over in my head. Even now though it was 2 years ago our fight had happened. And I realized how right she may have been about the person I was then. Because I was so into my depression and my pain I didn't realize she was hurting even more. Life had treated us so shitty then. She had gotten the brunt of most of it since she was young. Her life was turbulent, violent, loud. Mine was a more silent emotional suffering. I had sunk so deep into my depression then that I didn't acknowledge the abundance of good things around me. I didn't realize anyone else's pain. I just quietly accepted my selfishness.

In that, I think I drove her into her own anger and jealousy even further. The things I had, she lacked. Stable family structure, long-term friends. She had no one. She lived with her boyfriend and his family for 4 yrs. Her family abandoned her. She made her own way when she was young. She told me horror stories from her past like they were nothing. Like it didn't bother her at all. But you would have to not be human for them to not have affected you.

I think we were jealous of each other in different ways. I was fascinated at how she seemingly overcame her circumstances and noted her independence as worthy of admiration. She looked at my smothering mother and familial structure as something she had never had but wanted. She took an odd attraction to my mother. Almost like she was fighting her for attention coming out of the stock room to say hi to her when I told her my mother was stopping by the store to visit. She even called my cell to talk to my mother to wish her a happy birthday.

Then her boyfriend betrayed her, cheated on her, and left her. I had no idea. It would've explained her constant sad demeanor but I didn't realize it until after we had parted and I came upon an old blog of hers.

To this day I think that's why I have clung to so many people with unusual eccentricities and befriended them. People that by definition would be considered social outcasts in this world. Friends most people wouldn't be able to tolerate in a room for more than 5 minutes. In essence, I've developed this superhero complex trying to save people and give them a helping hand and a listening ear.

It got to the point I was over-exerting myself and causing myself more emotional stress and pain than before. So I rationed my attention to those I could and if I couldn't help them I began to accept the fact that some things were out of my control. Even in my own life I began to realize this.

In throwing myself into good local causes I think I lost a part of myself that used to ignite the writer in me. I've kept my own pain silent again but this time I shared it with no one for fear they'd hate me for my complaining when I should have nothing to complain about. Like she did. And I've even kept it from my writing. I became afraid of judgement. In that emotional pain and suffering there was life and color in the words I chose. Now I let it die inside me and push it back choosing to swallow it non-chalantly as one would acknowledge their daily swallowing of their own sailva.

Everyday, I feel myself slipping more under into the crashing waves of an ordinary person, living an ordinary life, losing my desire to fulfill my extraordinary dreams. I've lost passion in the things I once thought worth pursuing. I'm content with the fact I've not honed the discipline to pursue them.

And even though I feel myself slipping into this trance I don't feel the urge to fight it anymore.

And that scares me incredibly.

I'm not sure what to do or how to act on it. If I can even save myself from slipping into the dark shadows of dullness. Of assimilation. Of loss of my own individuality.

So I decided to blog again. To find some spark of passion. To save my life. To release my pain.

I'm typing for my life and in this I'm hoping to find the person I once was. Maybe not entirely. But the person that once loved the world of books and writing and lived vicariously through the vivid worlds the words of authors brought to life in my mind. I want to be able to do the same for people.

At the same time, I shouldn't always need the suffering, and depression, and the pain to be vibrant. I shouldn't have to slip back into the darkness I fought so hard to escape.

Is it in my happiness that I've lost passion? I'm living well now. I have a decent job. I have a working car. I have a loving family. The things I should have acknowledged before as a blessing I'm now acknowledging as I grow older.

Is writing only at its best when you're at your worst?

I don't want to believe it.

It reminds me of the backlash of Mary J. Blige when she got married and put out an album about happy relationships and love rather than her usual songs about broken-heartedness and domestic abuse. Her album sales dropped and the urban community screamed 'murder' of the R&B artist. Why should she sacrafice her happiness for her art? Why should I? Just because the content is different doesn't mean she's lost her skill as a singer as I haven't lost mine as a writer.

But still I want to become better and better. And then there are times I want to let the words slip into a bottomless ocean and lose them there and not even try to search for them.

I'm emo. Oh my god....I am so emo......

I think this is the most insightful blog I've written in a while.

Once in a while I think about reaching out to her. My old friend. To let her know I understand now. That I'm sorry I didn't count my blessings like I should have. That I'm sorry I didn't share more of those blessings with her. That I didn't offer her the hope or consolation she needed. But I know everything happens for a reason and people come in and out of your life like the seasons.

And in the end, no matter how many leaves you have the things that root you to the ground is what makes you truly grow.