Hustle & Flow

Really enjoyed this movie. Being the sap that I am, I was crying
everytime D Jay rapped and Shuga sang. Others may get annoyed at the
movie and the plethora of pimps and hos. I loved the music, the
message, and above all the dream.
--radicalflower

The schizophrenic jukebox in my head

As usual I'm sitting in front of the computer this morning thinking about what on earth to blog about. I don't know why other people blog/lj, but it gives me a chance to give all that crap floating around in my head a home. If I write it down or "say" it publicly, then it is less likely to continue plaguing me throughout the day, keeping me from that thing called work. This morning all I can think about is LOVE. I have a friend who I believe is falling in love...hell, she may already be at the bottom trying to catch her breath. Seeing her go through this makes me feel like I'm on one of those scary rides at the amusement park. I'm all excited about the possibilities for her. Let's face it...it an amazing (albeit fucked up) feeling, that thing called love. At the same time, I've got that fear of all the things that could go terribly wrong. It's that point on the ride where you think you really might die. In a friendship, it's not wanting to see her hurt. Finally, I'm feeling a bit melancholy and reminiscent. I'm not sure you actually get this feeling on a scary ride (maybe after it's over), but whatever. I got to thinking about my past love (because let's face it...there's only been one real one) and how great it was. Remembering how young we were and how much we learned together....how his mind turned me on as much as anything else he did...the look he gave me the last time we parted...the scars I left on him, so he won't ever forget me...the internal scars he left on me so I won't ever forget him.

Anyway, friend, if you're reading this I leave you with one piece of advice.

Buy the ticket, take the ride. It's worth it.

Holy crap and other revelations

I discovered today, via the Internet (www.coping.org/control/fixing.htm), that I have a problem. I am a chronic "fixer", which is evidently symptomatic of someone with control issues. Just great. I know self-diagnosis on the net is sketchy, but many of these hit all too close to home. I've pasted things below that I feel are relevant to me. I have to tell you...this left me doubting myself and certain situations I've gotten myself in.

The need to fix is...

• Compulsively driven behavior to rescue or help another person, place, or thing to be the way you believe it "should be.''
• Seeing another person, place, or thing as "in need'' and the automatic response pattern to this message.
• Inability to maintain emotional detachment from a person, place, or thing that is hurting or in trouble. You proceed to fix them even if this means that they are hindered from personal growth and accepting personal responsibility for their own actions.
• Drive to feel "needed'' or "wanted'' which leads you to become overly involved and overresponsible in your relationships with persons, places, and things.
• Result of a pattern of getting approval and recognition from others for "helping'' in the past with the belief that this is the only way you can have meaning in life.

Negative effects of the need to fix...

• Run the risk of developing a series of relationships with people, places, or things who become overly dependent on you.
• Will be unable to remain emotionally detached when you run across a person, place, or thing which appears "helpless.''
• Will never take care of your own needs because you will have successfully avoided focusing on self by diverting your focus to fixing others.
• Become guilt ridden if people, places, or things which you are trying "to fix'' don't get "fixed'' and instead get worse.
• Will increase in your low self-esteem as you lose yourself in "fixing'' others.

Irrational thinking behind "fixing"...

• When you have the resources materially, emotionally, intellectually, and energy-wise, you should always be ready to share these with others less fortunate than you whom you perceive to be in need of help and assistance.
• You should never stand by and not get involved when you see someone hurting and in need.
• You are rewarded in so many ways for the sacrifices you make to help others and it is a straight path to heaven if you give to others without any hesitation.
• You must die to self if you are to gain eternal reward. To be focused only on solving your own problems is so selfish. Therefore, you are sure to gain a higher eternal reward if you dedicate your life to helping others no matter what are the physical or emotional costs to yourself.
• What will others think of you if you don't offer help to someone who is obviously in need?

This is just the tip of the iceberg evidently. To read more of the symptoms, "fixes" for fixing you, etc. go to the website above.

Anonymous topics

I just can't manage a serious topic today. It's really not for lack of
trying or lack of ideas, but today I have too many nonserious topics on
the brain. So...just to keep you guessing I'm going to post a top 10 of
my random favorites (no particular order).

1. chocolate twizzlers
2. diy
3. How
4. lime green
5. summer breezes
6. secret smiles
7. the letter 'p'
8. blogging
9. diet coke
10. tattoos
--radicalflower

All things girly

I picked up the latest issue of Bust last night and finally had an
opportunity to take a peek inside its glossy covers. I *heart* Bust.
Reading it always makes me happy to be a girl. It wreaks of new wave
feminism that eclipses anything our fore-mothers could have imagined
(ha! I know I just lost half of you by just dropping the f-word.) It's
funny because this post was originally going to be about how I love
d.i.y., but can I instead tell you why I love the new feminism that's
been brewing over the last few years and why I'm not afraid of the
f-word?

*I love that feminism these days embraces Sydney Bristow and America's Next Top Model.

*I love that feminism believes that men and women, while not the same, are equal.

*I love that the new feminism embraces and makes no apologies for women who choose to be strippers, stay-at-home moms, sluts, want no children of their own, or enjoy baking a Martha Stewart tart.

*I love that the new feminism wears make-up and isn't afraid to buy a vibrator.

*I love that the new feminism can be just as activist as our predecessors...just with new issues.

It's not everything, but it's enough.
--radicalflower

Muggle born

Alright...I'm seriously geeking out over Harry Potter. With everyone
all abuzz and the store getting decorated, I've jumped on the Harry
Potter high. Plus, I'm seriously excited to read book 6! My true
geekiness showed today when I made a 'muggle' stencil so that I paint a
shirt for tonight. Another confession...I'm thinking of buying a
Camelpack to wear my sf red bull all night.

Any predictions about book 6? I've got a few theories but have been
following any of the blogosphere gossip, so I don't know what the
popular theories are.
--radicalflower

Graffiti: art or crime?

I love graffiti. I love it in the way I love tattoos. Its colors. Its
placement. Its voice. Its randomness. Reading Jonathan Lethem made me
love it more. He made me want to be a graffiti artist.

The stars must have aligned or something because it's a series of odd
coincidences that have me blogging about this. Yesterday I stumbled
across a site called Graffiti Archaeology, and the flame was lit again.
Then I noticed the cover story of the style section of today's Post was
on the arrest of the infamous DC graffiti artist, Borf. I'd seen Borf's
work...who could miss the giant tag over the Roosevelt Bridge? I was
never a Borf tracker (though I've found myself inspired to seek out DC's
graffiti marvels for a shoot), but I found myself saddened by his
arrest. Don't get me wrong, I understand the sanctity of private
property, but most of the stuff graffiti artists tag is abandoned, ugly,
what I would call public, etc. Is it fear that drives people to despise
graffiti? Do they associate it with gangs? Fear a 'the wrong element'
is hanging around her neighborhood? Fear the message delivered?

I see graffiti as art. Yes, some may just be someone's initials or some
curse words, but look at the slope of the line, the color chosen. Look
closely...next time you might be seeing my tag.
--radicalflower

Faking it

I was never good at faking it. I didn't grow up in a household where I had to pretend to be happy or pretend to like something. My mom isn't a natural smiler and wasn't good at faking it even if she tried. If I'm not happy you're going to know it. I won't put on a happy face, and you may even hear me growl or curse. This is why I'm always thrown when I find out friends I thought were generally happy (within reason...we all have our moments)...aren't. What if we had a 'National Don't Fake It' Day? Would friendships be ruined? Would someone's adequate sex get better? Would chaos ensue?

Stench of the city

During the summertime the smells that make up a city are more distinct,
pungent. Walking past McPherson Square on my way to the metro I was hit
by a wall of b.o. and trash. The smells of the homeless that call the
park home are more ripe when it's warm. While people feel free to walk
past the city's homeless easier in the summer because the harsh cold is
gone, they can't escape the smell of humanity. I breathed it in because
I didn't want to harden myself and pretend they are invisible. And, as
the musky smell of unwashed bodies washed over me, I again felt guilty
for not doing enough and for having too much.

**I contributed to the city's stench myself yesterday. I tried out the
'organic' Tom's of Maine deodorant. I wouldn't if I were you...I
smelled musky for most of the afternoon.
--radicalflower

Age: simply a number or sign of the times

How relevant is age? A series of recent events has me wondering if, in
fact, it does have some bearing on one's actions.

It's almost 2am, and I should be in bed now. Instead, I'm laying here
worrying about those close to me. I was going to write a diatribe on
age (see first sentence above) to get back at someone who angered me. I
can't though. I see so much anger and pain in the world, and tonight I
can't contribute to that and possibly make someone else feel bad,
especially if they don't necessarily have the life experiences to have
brought them past that. Instead I'm just going to post some names here
of people who need special thoughts right now (no particular order).
I'm not going to air their business and tell you why (though that would
be more interesting). If you pray, then pray for them. If you don't,
then send them good vibes and karma across the airwaves. (If this is
too cheesy for you, then eff off.)

Charlie
Mom
Steven
Scarlet
Granny
Papa
Christina
Stephanie
Allie
Ravena
Reishia
John
Kat
Bush
Marie
Jenny
Rev. Bennett
Tyree
Denise
Roger
--radicalflower

Where do dreams go to die?

Riding the metro this morning I found myself standing by this young girl. I'm not sure why, but she reminded me of a younger (think 11 y.o.) version of a lot of us. Standing, while she sat, I noticed her pink polkadot headband bent over a novel, devouring it. When she tired of the novel, she reached for her notebook and began sketching. You could obviously see that the notebook was full of such ideas. I saw in her the hopes and dreams we once had, that some of us still have. It wasn't anything she did or said, but I was reminded of a time when it was still ok to dream. I was left wondering what happens when the innocence fades away and cynicism colors our dreams. My mind kind of flittered around this morning on the train because I then started thinking about all the dreams that died in London yesterday and then how the dream seems to have died for this country a long time ago. We no longer dream...we fear.

The exfoliation of nonnatural places

I'm at the beach (Ocean City, MD). While I would love to say something
moving, the sun has drained me of the prophetic and instead left me
again with the desire to be a beach bum.

We got Allie in the water yesterday. She's not a swimmer and was a
little hesitant of the ocean. She nearly drowned me and most surely
beached me with her death-like grip on my arm. As the waves crashed
into us, we both managed to suck a little pollution first hand. Perhaps
the most hilarious moment was getting ready to shower back at the hotel
and realizing just how intimate I got with the sand. Some places just
aren't meant to be exfoliated.
--radicalflower

Manboobs are hot!

Last night proved fun and very fruitful for pictures. Steven was in DC for the day and met me after work from some impromptu fun. After regaling me with stories of how hot it was outside and how he sweat so much his underwear were a bit soggy (thanks for sharing this in my office). With a story like that, how could I not want to walk down to the Mall and the Smithsonian Folklife Festival? A few highlights from our evening follow.

The Folklife Festival was fun. Steven stumbled on shroom heaven.























The arts & crafts area was, by far, the rockingest area. We got to make paper and create a Forest Service bookmark. Since we were only able to make one, we're going to make Allie and Scarlet compete for it. Stay tuned for more details on this 3-part competition.


The arts & crafts area offered more than simply hands-on fun. There was also a little bit of a peep show for the more wicked ; ) I'm sorry to say that Steven and I share the same sick "eye" for a good shot.
...and a R-rated concert by a Forest Service employee from North Dakota. Btw, did you know that flies can draw blood? Bastards.


The laughing didn't stop when we headed to Jaleo for tapas. Never having had tapas it was decided that adventure was in order. Our favorite (chicken and ham fritters)...


...and least favorite but most humorous (quail).


Perhaps that was a little boring but really funny if you were there. Anyway, stopped by the downtown Barn to create a little havoc.


And games at ESPN. We paddled a raging river, entered a skateboarding competition, tried water skiing, and got our asses kicked by BMX dirt bikes ("Oh, my knee." "It would be funny if we were sore tomorrow."). Oh yeah, Steven beat me at air hockey and virtual tennis. In fact, he pretty much kicked ass at virtual tennis until he was taken down at his 3rd cup by a frenchie.