In Higher Esteem

Monday was my first Microbiology lecture and lab session, and both ran from 1-10pm. It was fantastic, and is one of the first challenging courses I've ran against so far at UMBC.

Our class experienced some earth shattering disappointment when we realized that that "chocolate agar" is not actually made from/with chocolate, but rather cow/sheep blood cells that have already lysed, giving it its slightly brownish color. :( *sob*

(Even though some are microbiologists in training, you can tell that we're still kids, really. LOL.)

*Sidenote: "amusing" is subjective. However, edible agar made from real chocolate would be a fantastic gift for bio-nerds , so I think I'll find a way to mass produce and market it. Maybe I could put little multicolored non-pareils on it to represent clusters of bacteria or something.

Yummmm.

(9:20:59 PM) CynicallySweeter: Sut Jhally argues that the music video industry produces the most racist set of images since D.W Griffith's Birth of a Nation
(9:21:24 PM) CynicallySweeter: because it shows black men as violent, overly aggressive, drunken, rude, lustful, etc
(9:21:56 PM) CynicallySweeter: and i just said "wow".
(9:22:48 PM) tighttommy611: i dunno if i would agree with that
(9:22:54 PM) CynicallySweeter: BIRTH OF A NATION
(9:23:07 PM) CynicallySweeter: have you seen Birth of a Nation?
(9:23:08 PM) tighttommy611: because i don't know if music videos truly portray black men in that way
(9:23:15 PM) tighttommy611: only short little clips, not in full
(9:24:02 PM) tighttommy611: like, i think music videos can be misogynistic, and oftentimes promote some kind of "authentic" (to hip-hop culture) masculinity at the expense of other norms
(9:24:26 PM) tighttommy611: and yeah, you can point at nelly swiping credit cards in girls' asses and say, music videos are horrible
(9:25:47 PM) tighttommy611: but on the whole i don't think music videos make black men look overly aggressive, drunken, rude, lustful any more than it suits the character they choose to play in their music, and very rarely do i see a music video that looks down on black people, or paints them as inferior within the video
(9:27:21 PM) tighttommy611: if you choose to see all music videos as spreading their images as literal translations of what they're about, then you could make that argument i guess, but even a song that seems simply about shooting people and making money usually has cultural consciousness that transcends easy generalization; it almost always means more

Hmm.

It has been brought to my attention that I should write, publish, and actively distribute little pamphlets on race/gender/class-relations in current day U.S.A. Topics/Titles may include:

• "The Myth of Reverse Racism"

• The Truth Behind The Prison Industry

• HIV is NOT A "GAY" Disease

•  Affirmative Action

• Objectification of Women in Music Videos (and just about every other branch of the hyper-sexualized media)
  

• Why you can't use the N-Word!
  

• Gender Roles != Biology,
  

• Why Sudan isn't Trendy [anymore] but Still Deserves Attention

I have been so busy in the past few months that I've completely ignored the LJ realm. I miss writing here, but I barely have time to scratch my own ass these days (LOL)... yet alone plop down to write thoughtful entries. But I will leave you with this gem to discuss: Why Rape is like force fed chocolate cake. Seriously. It's 2008, guys.

*sighs*

In other news, I got in touch with my fantastic Lit teacher from high school. I could write several entries on the brilliance of David Soud... but I'll keep this one short. I've been talking to him about the academic dilemma I have been facing recently, but that's for another entry.

Hope everyone is doing well out here in LJ land!

EDIT: I owe Daniel a Christmas package (still!!! It's freakin' APRIL!), and Rich (the french love of my life) is leaving for Honduras for a month. Le sigh. Oh, and I'm now an OFFICIAL consumer whore - Proud owner of a Nintendo Wii!!!

Okay. So I deleted my facebook.

Sue me.

Tommy called to wake me up at quarter past 11 to tell me that he can no longer be a close friend. He discovered this after a long conversation with a female friend of his. Fantastic. I hate this dramatic DECLARATION of shit.

One day I'll look back on this and understand his p.o.v better. I won't be bitter, I won't be upset, but I'll smile and be okay.

But in the meantime I count it as the last COLOSSAL loss than I can take. I know that I hurt him, but I would never leave him if he were like this.

He knows I've been depressed because I literally feel like I've had my inner circle RIPPED from me at my greatest moment of need. And now he also jumps ship? I guess I'm really going to find out what I'm made of.

I saw LUPE FIASCO @ Sonar last night with Tommy.

Today I'm recovering. On my first day of classes. Kickin' off 2008's academic with a 4 hour chemistry lab.

<3

On Friday I was walking down the steps when Deshayla bumped into me (on her way up), and I thought it would be funny to respond by busting out a very enthusiastic rendition of the robot. In slippery socks.

I fell DOWN THE STAIRS quickly thereafter. It was one of those ass-hits-each-step falls, and my ankle got caught in the banister at one point, so for a second I was sort of doing one-legged split.

At the bottom of the steps, all I could do was laugh (AND CRY!!!) 

It figures that i didn't fall due to the initial collision, but still had a fully SELF IMPOSED, DANCE RELATED injury.

Afterwards I caught my breath, and then did pilates. PAINFULLY. [I'd take pictures of the bruises, but it's mostly my butt. Ya'll aint ready for that yet]

JUST BY CHANCE, I heard some random grad students at UMBC speaking on the topic of race relations in America, and one mentioned that my FAVORITE essayist/speaker in the WORLD was going to be in town. As a result of this news: I got to see Tim Wise speak at Loyola College in Baltimore, September 17th, at 6pm!!!

Afterwards I shook his hand and we talked briefly about his ZNet article days, and the myth of reverse racism, the first article I ever read by him. He chuckled at my compliments, and soon I was on my way home, in total disbelief that I just lucked up on this chance to hear him speak for the first time by hearing 2 (of like 5,000) grad students talking near me while waiting for class.

Always keep your ears open, I guess.

School Related

1. Pick up a parking pass
2. Thank G/god for great [on campus] wireless
3. Buy chem book
4. BE A GOOD STUDENT
5. ATTEND CLASSES
6. Talk to advisor...
7. EXCOMMUNICATE LAZINESS FROM MY SOUL
8. *EDIT* Buy math book(s), and lab course packs.

Web/Tech Related

1. Use [117]  [70] txt messages before Sept 5 (I'm not wasting them! I have 300 a mo, and they will not disappear!)
   
2. Reconfigure laptop
3. Empty emails
4. Reply to OkCupid mail that's piling up by the second
5. Consider deletion of OkCupid account (not happening yet)
   

Life Related

1. Finish MVA crap so license isn't suspended
2. Write past boss a nice email
3. Talk to Micah
4. Wish bassy a safe trip
5. Thank my parents for every sacrifice they made for me.
1. (Beg parents to go to Metric concert, Sept. 20)
6. BUY OUTFIT FOR METRIC CONCERT!
7. Make plans with Tommy Ashton
8. Thank G/god for Daniel. 
9. Write love letters to Life, and stick them in library books.
10. VISIT AUSTRALIA
    
11. Read Chuck Palahnuik's Choke.

I just had the most super day!

QUICK UPDATE:
1. Micah and I are on break. I still love him.
2. Tommy Ashton is my new best friend, and is officially replacing Valerie, who is acting ridiculously, and Courtney who doesn't have time for anyone else.
3. I MISS DANIEL LOVELADY, DAMNIT!
4. I'm avoiding people.
5. I NEED $$$, PLEASE HELP ASAP

Love,
Tiffanie

I just returned from Jesse's house. It's been a year since I've seen him.

I got butterflies; the bad, nervous type that flutter violently against your stomach walls and make you feel green and nauseous. Really green and really nauseous.

We sat on his porch. He looked good, I must admit. Tall...slender... dark hair. He grew it out a bit, and some facial hair as well. He looked less clean cut (not that he ever did) and more edgy. I've always liked edgy.

We sat or his porch, and it reminded me. Hot summer days, holding hands in public. "Did you feel that?" he asked, the first time our fingertips touched. It was in front of that house, in his silver Jetta. My dream car. "Feel what?" I was always so nervous and unsure. Knowing I was in places that I shouldn't have been. "That, that right there", he'd touched me again. The mall - browsing through books for my first semester of college as he ran through Best Buy looking for appliances for his first HOUSE. Dizziness. "That spark." And his grin. I'll never forget that classic, Jesse smile. Crooked, definitely a grin. Disingenuous with a capital D.

I was such a little girl. A little naive girl, who knew I had no business with this man. A book smart little girl who thought she could stump the wolf and learn the tricks of his trade. His trade in intelligent, interesting, naive little girls. I could never outsmart him, never in a thousand years. I thought that having his acquaintance made me something - not necessarily something special, but something grown, something older that I wasn't meant to be at the time.

So, how have things changed in a year?

Who's to say? But the fact that I should see him a bit more clearly and realistically is a good start. I don't see Jesse as a mistake, because after all, even in all my silly girlish naivety I was smart enough to never go too far or mistake his interest (in finding a muse) as anything genuine or long lasting. I see Jesse as a lesson learned, and it's a good feeling know that though I haven't burned that bridge, I'm smart enough not to cross it again.

I know this is random, but...

Recently I decided to start marketing myself (ala B-more's Craigslist) as a personal assistant and posted an ad here and there. It was mostly a whim, seeing that I wanted another part time job until I start working at Franklin Square Hospital.  I've gotten a ton of responses from business wo/men (especially from downtown) and after making them fill out my "on-the-spot" email questionnaire, there's one serious potential client.

The last question on the Potential Client Survey was "Do you feel strongly against any racial or religious minority? If so, please explain." Which basically translates to "Am I going to deny you before I read the rest of this?". I have gotten some interesting responses to THAT, let me tell you.

Anyways, I'm meeting with a really good guy, whose office is in Laurel MD (blah, 30 min commute). His name is Dan. If I disappear in the next 24 hours, he chopped me up in the conference room we're meeting in... CALL 911!

I'd also like to state for the record that misscortmore and I should definitely switch jobs. I'm stuck watching prehistoric aged housewives come to the SPA and get 29249257 beauty treatments by SUPER MODELS. Supermodels who offer me, aka plain jane, services that I have no use for/don't understand. "Tiffanie let me give you hot stone facial" (Why would I want someone smashing heated rocks in my face?) "Tiffanie, you really ought to get highlights or pixie crop your hair..." blah blah blah. Women are so ridiculous about their looks. I HATE IT THERE. *QUITS and takes Courtney's Office Of Multiculturalism job in Kanada* :D

I had a disturbing nightmare last night/this morning. So bad that I couldn't go back to sleep for about a half hour after I woke up.

In the dream, I went to see this movie, with my family (and with Kenneth in particular). We go sit down, inside of the movie theatre and there is a man... middle aged, white, tall, slender. He's on the big screen and he appears to be the average guy. He kept going to this woman's car... never the same woman, but always the same car. He kept coming there, different emotions everytime, and violently blowing his brains out all over the exterior of the car. We'd see him, then the car, sometimes whoever was in the car (usually a younger girl), and then hear the gunshot (or see his face as he pulled the trigger) and then his blood and entrails splatted against the cream colored leather. It was very vivid, and after it happened a few times, I kept praying for another plot to develop.

The man kept committing suicide. The same man, coming to the same damn car. A few times he ripped his own heart out of his chest, still beating, still half pumping, with a smile on his face. But usually, it was gun cocked to the back of his throat, and boom. The sound of his blood and flesh hitting against the seat was disgusting. Sometimes the scene would last long enough so that you would hear the 'thud' his body made as it fell lifelessly against the car. Other times you could only see the blood barely hit the seat, in stark contrast with the cream colored leather, and you felt as if some drops hit so hard (and almost angrily) that the mist splattered against your own face. In a few scenes, the car was in a field  (that he would trek through), but other times it stood alone in a parking lot and he was already there. Sometimes he would be happy, coming towards the car as if he were anticipating the encounter that would follow. Sometimes he came towards it with dread. There was a lot of variation, but one thing remained constant: he always came to that same spot, scene after scene, and violently ended his life. After about the 20th time, my stomach churned so hard that I woke myself up.

I couldn't find a better way to describe precisely the toll a certain friendship is having on me.

Sweet dreams LJ land ,
~Tiffanie

"So, you can slay Goliath. But can't control your lust for Bathsheba."

The more I think about this, the more it makes me think about life and people in general. It goes to show that no matter how much stronger or more clever you are in relation to outside hindrances, it's not until you manage to truly gain control over your internal  forces, urges, yearnings, and hungers that you can truly achieve liberation and peace. Period. The real battle (and the most important ones) are often inside...Being able to maintain an impressive mastery of surface content (your GPA, bank accounts, etc) means nothing if you lack the ability to look your deepest and strongest (sometimes most innocent/natural) desires in the eye and evaluate them thoroughly (especially before making decisions). What is the point of amazing strength if you can't use it to work, mold, and change yourself? What's the point of immense mental clarity if you can't use to it discern what's truly a vice versus a virtue (in the purest sense of the words) in your life? That isn't to say one should attempt to repress or flee from their emotions, their libido, or all those other intensely personal and intensely powerful driving forces... just, get them in check. Otherwise, they have this nasty way of setting things up in reverse.

Self control, dignity, integrity are things that (imho) should start from the inside and extend to the outer regions of a person's life. Not the other way around.

Heh, thanks Audre.

From "I Am The Darker Brother", an athology of modern poems by African Americans

childhood remembrances are always a drag
if you're Black
you always remember things like living in Woodlawn
with no inside toilet
and if you become famous or something
they never talk about how happy you were to have
your mother
all to yourself and
how good the water felt when you got your bath from
one of those
big tubs that folk in Chicago barbecue in
and somehow when you talk about home
it never across how much you
understood their feelings
as the whole family attended meeting about Hollydale
and even though you remember
your biographers never understand
your father's pain as he sells his stock
and another dream goes
and though you're poor it isn't poverty that
concerns you
and though they fought a lot
it isn't your father's drinking that makes any difference
but only that everybody is together and you
and your sister have happy birthdays and very good
Christmasses
and I really hope no white person ever has cause to
write about me
because they never understand: Black love is Black
wealth and they'll
probably talk about my hard childhood and never
understand that
all the while I was quite happy

-"Nikki-Rosa", by Nikki Giovanni

My booklist:

The Old Man and the Sea (Hemingway)
Heart of Darkness & The Secret Sharer (Conrad)
Lord of the Flies (Golding)
and some random ass Kafka (for the first time! I heard he's quite an experience)

Thanks to Jesse for making a reading list like this possible. Not fresh books either, but old dusty worn ones.

The problem with life, especially love is that you can never get that perfect fade to black that the movies use. Capture that perfect moment when everything is at rest and you're completely you with another individual. When you drop all the sarcasms; all those funny clever methods of hiding that we develop as a defense. All the ingrained fears, all the methods of protection... When you simply let another living thing see your core. Who you are under your witticisms (wit and sarcasm), deeper than your looks, even beneath the intellect.

Time drones on after that (often) life altering moment. And though it took an eternity to open up your heart, your past, to show your fears and failures and share them with someone else...there is no fade to black, no freezing it in time. No closing the curtain on a marvelous unfolding of the human soul. After that, things get "complicated" more often than not. Sometimes they initially like what they see, but then their interest wanes. Sometimes, they reject it right away. Sometimes distance creeps in. Sometimes fate is simply against you.

Tonight, I feel for him. I feel for anyone who's really tasted Love, not the romanticized bullshit in Disney movies. Not the teenage ideal. Not "being incomplete without him/her" either. Not princess and prince charming. But the Love that Paul talks about. I feel for anyone who's even been patient and kind. Who's avoided jealousy, boastfulness, false pride and rudeness. To anyone who's kept no record of wrongs, but rejoiced in truth. To anyone who never lost faith, remained hopeful and endured the ups and downs. And still, for one reason or another, it still didn't amount to anything.

Rich: I just reread my spiel about the man on
the bench, and find that whoever wrote that was
brilliant, at least for a moment
Tiffanie: Brilliance always has it's way of showing
itself after we're wounded
Tiffanie: when we're at our worst, it's there to
comfort us :)
Rich: hahaha
Tiffanie:reassure us that even though we're fvcked,
we're SMART COOKIES :) so we'll always make it out okay
in the end 8-)
Tiffanie: gotta love that brilliance LOL

Rich, your words are always beautiful and brilliant. One day you'll find a girl to match.

( Calender of early 2006 )

June 12th and 13th 2006: RPCS Class Day and Graduation. Not only did I graduate from one of the best highschools nationwide (sure, I'm biased), but I did so with 3 awards. Community Service, Senior Speech, and Margaret Hiltgunt Zassenhaus award. The latter of the 3 meant the most to me. I remember reading the description as a freshman and thinking "if I got this award when I was a senior it would mean more to me than any of these academic craps... it would made a made a really lasting impression on the school."

Service and Citizenship Awards
The *Community Service award is presented to the senior who has contributed most to the Baltimore community through her volunteerism and community service.

Senior Awards
The *Anne Healy Senior Speech award honors Miss Healy, her eloquence and her love and appreciate of the spoken language. It was created by the Class of 1977 to encourage seniors to emulate and perpetuate the high standards set by former headmistress Anne Healy.

The *Dr. Hiltgunt Zassenhaus Prize honors Dr. Zassenhaus and her mission. In her book, Walls, Dr. Hiltgunt Zassenhaus warns her readers against "invisible walls built by prejudice, fear, hate, and indifference." By preserving the memory of those people who fought against these walls during World War II. Zassenhaus strives for the day when "the walls separating man from man will fade so that people will cease destroying each other and join to serve live." The faculty awards the Zassenhaus Prise to the senior who has significanly fostered a sense of global perspective and an appreciate of multicultural diversity within the School.

( More of the present, then the future )

Whenever things get tough, it's best to count your blessings. So here goes a limited list of the things I'm most greatful for right now...


Courtney, Valerie. Irreplacable. Noah, even Daniel. My beloved and closest, most trustworthy, understanding friends. I've been lucky enough to aquire these gems through my life and I really appreciate them.

My schooling/educumacation.

My family and home. No matter how hectic things get, I have somewhere to go at the end of the day. Somewhere; no matter how crowded, loud, or frenzied, that belongs to me just as I belong to it. Those are the kindest words I can churn out for that place right now, LOL.

My school friends. Each and everyone one of the girls in my class have taught me something new about life- good and bad things, puzzling things, funny things. As sentimentally mushy as this sounds- those 70 odd girls are my sisters. We have a bond forged through early mornings in those prestine sparkling hallways filled with stress, expectations, deadlines, and the overwhelming responsibility to be " a good roland parker". And yes, I go through bouts of anger with that marvelous institution - but I am thankful for the academic and leadership oppurtunities it's nursed me through. It's not perfect, but after 5 awkward years... it feels like a makeshift home. Which is more than a lot of people can say before they graduate.

Writing and Literature. I can't express how the the process of communicating, even if only to a pad of paper or an empty text box, has helped me through some of my toughest struggles. If it hadn't been for the mighty pen - my ability to weild it at the right times: and not just to serve myself or release my emotion. To convey important ideas, to shape worlds and scenerios from imagination, to critique, and yes even to excite - writing is an art. It's not an outlet, not merely a cheap relief like drinking or sex. It's an artform that I'm so humble to appreciate; I dare not claim to be a good writer (pfffffffffft!) but I'm thankful that I've ran across some of the best, most inspiring, imaginative, worthwhile stories and storytellers throughout my life. From spiritual scripts like the Upanishads, to whimsical mockery's like Gaiman/Prachett's Good Omens...from soul baring and realistic T.S Eliot's Wasteland to the richly creative world of The Sandman... I've encountered some amazing stories in print and pictures. And my thirst grows :)

The Divine. [Before I would've said "my faith" - not knowing the meaning of the phrase. My faith in what? Am I thankful for my ability to believe alone? WTH] You know my words before I speak them. You've always been, always are, and always will be. Thank you for providing the adversity to push me on my journey of discovering and defining You for myself. My journey from my old perceptions wasn't easy... but in them I've found some interesting things I would've have otherwise. I am not old or wise enough to say what You are and what You aren't - but I know I've felt You before and will again. I know that there is something of you or like you that flows between us all. I truly believe now, more than ever before, that our existence isn't coincidental. And that belief, I can honestly say (now), is from my heart.

Spring (well, it's on it's way).

Life isn't that rough. If I'm alive enough to complain, things could always be worse.

Until next time
-tiffanie