Beginning of the End

Last night I was the first class of the last course of my Graduate education. I did not have that bubbly feeling that often accompanies the beginning of class. This is the last push. I'm trying to find my excitement. I'm trying to find my zeal, for by subject. But last night for me, more resembled the beginning of the hellish chore that your parents ask you do.

So.
16 class
15 assignments
4 months
1 final exam

Then Boston University will drop the curtain. My education will fade to black. There are people that will ask for an encore. That will only be decided went the show has come to an end.

East Coast Prozac, West Coast Sun

My friend that is in California complained to me that there is little substance in her new home. She has found people to hangout with but all conversations have been very on the surface. She seems a little frustrated by it. It could be a cultural thing; people do not talk about deep subjects in public. I think that she misses the debate of the issues of the day or at least of the passion of one.

But this has me thinking... Maybe we have it wrong out here on the East Coast. Analyzing everything, over-analyzing and mentally masturbating over any subject that we can. Complex conversations about "meaningless" things, simply for the express purpose of being complex. When you dissect everything, there is no place for magic and wonderment. Happiness could be magic and wonderment, maybe that is why it is so elusive in our modern times. Devil is the details, some say. East Coast decomposition is a path to the details. Ergo...?

My friend reports that people are happier on the West Coast. Clearly, the weather has something to do with it. Maybe another part of it is the surface level conversation that my friend speaks of. If you only remain on the surface, you will not see the ugliest of the details. Could it be a type of willful ignorance? Maybe the West Coast has it right -- the prescription to happiness, besides Prozac are good weather and no deep thoughts.

I am... My father's son

Life is about cycles. That is what I have been told. This is what I have learned. This is what I'm scared to believe. What does this mean for me?

The cycle that I'm seeing that is making me nervous... Children run to the parents. Children run from the parents. Children walk next to there parents as adults. Children become there parents. This is the way that I see the cycle.

What if your parents not to be emulated? Are you destined to have the same fate as your parent? We know that is not always the case. We know that each individual has the ability to forge there own path. But the how likely is it. Diseases run in families. Some diseases, socially ills, run in families as well. I think that it is a general belief that is out there. I can hear my aunty talking to me about the women that I choose to associate with.

"Good families make good people. Finding a good person can help ensure that you too will have a good family. Good family equals good life."

Is this true of success? Success breeds success. What if you do not see your father as success? Are you tied to his fate? Does mediocrity breed mediocrity? Maybe a judge him too harshly, the example is has put forth is not bad. There are many things that I would like to emulate. He has a good wife, good children and he is loved. Many people would argue that this is success. But it would be a question. I want my success to be unquestionable, for any one that cares to look, they will know that I’m a success.

Worthy of Awe

It was a funny moment. It was cute and innocent. I was in the one of the halls in my office, a woman with two children was coming down the hall. I decided to wait for them to pass. One of the children, the older one, a 3 year old girl was chirping away, but then she sees me and stops all of a sudden. She starts staring at me with astonishment and maybe a little perplexed. Her mother call out to the child, " Come on Sarah, let's go... Come on." Sarah continues but she is still fixated on me.

I do not know why exactly, this little girl was staring at me. But I can only field a guess. My guess is that this was the first time this little girl saw a large-ish black male. But it was cute, she seemed in awe. I guess that I'm simply an amazing fellow to look at.

But this also reminds me of a story that my grandmother told me years ago. She traveled to London via a ship line. This was the popular way to travel at that time. When she was in the port she talked about a little English boy, maybe 4 years of age, that noticed her. She saw this little boy clasp tighter to his mother that was carrying him. As this little boy was pointing to my grandmother, she heard him say to his mother, "Mommy, Mommy, what is wrong with that lady." The little boy just saw his first African and he did not know what to make of it.

So, I guess, me and my grandmother an just stunners.

Wearing food

All I what do know is why every time that I having lunch with a beautiful girl. This guys, always without fail, drops some food on myself..

WHY is this....

OK, I do not get it. I have bad luck. Or the world likes to embarrass me. So I having lunch with this very attractive Indian girl from my office. This means that something embrassassing has to happen. I'm not trying to push up on the girl, she is married and I knew that.

This is the first time that we are getting lunch together. We talking bullshit and light conversation. In the middle of this a carrot that has a bit of gravy on it falls off my fork on pants.

I can remember when I have had dates and I sent more that half of the date focusing out not getting a drop of food on me. Or I would order something that is spill and stain proof.

And this only happens with hot woman...argh....

Japanese etiquette

I walk into my house. It has the shine of a Mr. Clean commercial. I had the urge to look around a corner to see if Mr. Clean was hiding in my home. He was nowhere to be found. But my house guests, were there in his stead.

It was a gift from 2 Japanese women that were crashing at my house for 2 nights. But that was not the only gift provided. They informed me that they were cooking dinner. I remember thinking, shit, was this what it was like in the 50's? A man walks into his house,the house is cleaner than a hospital and dinner will be served in the next 10 minutes. I did not believe what I was walking into. I thought it was only in old black and white television but, to believe that it was happening to me, it was a hard to take in.

I was fed, then I was liquored up. Drinks were flowing. There was no shortage of sake. There was no shortage of my sake intake. So what it was a weekday and there is work tomorrow, I had guests. It would have been rude to refuse. We can't have that.

I found myself in my living room recovering from the feast that just was. I closed my eyes for a moment and when I reopened them....

I found a Japanese woman
   waiting...
She saw that I was awake
The lights were dim

I did not hear anyone else in the 
   Kitchen
      Dining room
         or the Living Room

She spoke...
   But her English was not understood by me
She giggles and sits on my lap

I didn't fight her.
She says one word....
   "Game?"
I smile to show that I'll play

She leaned over
   kissed me on the cheek...
   smiling and giggling softly
   "Your turn!!"... she says
   
Of course I'm confused...
   This woman to whom I can barely communicate with 
   Is communicating that she looking for a 
      "very American experience"
      
I sit up a little  and kiss her on the cheek
She smiles and says..."Gooood!!"
She goes to turn off the light switch

So that she can completely switch modes 
   and 
     enjoy 
       her 
         "American desert".

Quote of the day.

"How do you get thru the day without belittling someone?"
--- Co-worker.

I have to admit, I got a good chuckle out of that.

They speak English in Jamaica???

Three of us are in the car, me, my house mate and my house mate's girl. We are talking about the gossip that is around in our circle of friends. We talking about how a recently married couple has just returned from Hawaii from their honeymoon. Talking about the general pleasance of Hawaii and other popular honeymoon destinations.

House mate: People love Jamaica. I think that it is the number one honeymoon destination.
Me: I can see that.
House mate: But I think that I would prefer Hawaii tho...
House mate's girl: Me too. And they speak English in Hawaii.

My house mate and I look at each other for a moment.

HM: ... True... they do speak English in Hawaii.
Me: Oh...What language is spoken in Jamaica?
HMG: French!!! ...
Me: Are you sure?...
HMG: French??? ... Right?
Me: No... Yeah, it is true that people have a hard time understanding the dilate in Jamaica but it is English.
HMG: Oh... (looking a little embarrassed) Ah.... I guess I was asleep then they taught that in social studies....

I thought it was a basic fact that Jamaica is an English speaking country. But I guess I was wrong on that. My house mate girlfriend typically give one a pearl like the one above, maybe once a week and it is always good for a giggle. To be honest, I seem to enjoy them because it is proof that I'm not the only one that should consider talking less.