The Right to Privacy

Ever since 911 we have seen our rights eroded. We were told that we were essentially on a war footing and needed to have increased security measures. A shocked nation allowed these measures to become permanent: warrant-less wiretaps, the patriot act and airport "security" screening.

Little by little our rights have been trampled upon in the name of safety. The airport security theater started with banning potential weapons on airplanes: box cutters, scissors, nail clippers. It has since morphed many times over and is as useful as the terror level color code.

First of all, these measures do not increase safety. A determined person will always find a way to cause carnage. I do not think we should make it easy for them but we have to be careful not to lose our souls in the process. Since we began to treat people like guilty parties; with x-rays, metal detectors and pat-downs we have lost a little of ourselves.

The second is that we are always reacting to the last action rather than considering our policies as a whole. An idiot puts explosives in his shoes, so we are asked to remove our shoes. Another idiot tries to mix liquid explosives, nearly blows his face off, now I can't even board with a cup of coffee.

Now that a dude packed his shorts with C4 or whatever we have the pleasure of groping and body scanners. As a free society we can never be completely safe; it is in the nature and the trade-off we must make. The determined saboteur will find a way: things hidden in cavities, explosives in the under carriage and whatever else sick people like that consider.

Some people seem to believe that we are never gonna get anywhere unless we treat the U.S. like a max security prison, however, contraband can be found in even the most secure lock-ups. If we cannot police and control prisoners, who have given up all of their rights as citizens, how can we expect to do better with regular Joes?

"The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized. "

In others words, "don't touch my junk."

St. Lucia '10 Day 3

Fish Friday:

The second full day's breakfast was much like the first, delicious. I walked into the living room to find my uncle deep into a Wimbledon match. Next up was the World cup, I was then witness to Brazil's loss; I could only begin to imagine the tears and anger felt by my bosses wife. Once my uncle relinquished hold of the TV I surfed to see

what the island had to offer.

I kept finding myself being drawn to cat woman, though I did not want to admit it. The movie was bad, however, Halle Berry in a catsuit is awe inspiring. I still believe to this day that the movie was green lighted for the Halle catwalk scene. I exited the Halle-mania to swim for 3

hours.

After watching some more football and writing the first draft of my postcards it was time for fish Fridays. My Aunt Tina's friend brought us to a joint with fresh grilled seafood. We had conch grilled with spices and similarly season grilled snapper.

I went to the side kitchen in search of green banana salad for my mom and discovered they also had turtle. This was my first turtle experience, it was quite surprising. It was well seasoned and had a texture and flavor similar to beef. It was then on to the street fair.

My aunt surprised me at the street fair with a chaperon, someone my age and speed, to show me around. We walked around the street fair where I consumed lots of goodies; coconut water, fresh roasted peanuts to name a few. We were out for quite some time listening to new soca tunes and dancing the night away. By the time I'd gotten back home from all the revelry I only had 3 hours before I needed to be at the downtown market.

St. Lucia '10 Day 2

Waking from my mosquitoed, stagnant air, hell hole was almost as painful. I felt violated and downright icky, I needed a shower to remedy my condition. I celebrated the new day with a breakfast of champs: banana, mango and st lucian white bread.

With proper food in my system I was able to take the first step in "Operation Mail Postcards," I purchased several different ones from a mall. I soon conquered the market aisles to acquire local confections whilst visiting and petitioning friends of the family for treats in exchange for my presence. The fun and frivolity was only broken when I found myself at the shop of one of my grandma's friends who had fallen on hard times. Her pride would not allow her to say why her shop was without electricity.

After returning to my Aunt's place the next stop was the beach; the turqouise waters stretched as far as the eyes could see and the beach ent on forever north and south. The waters were cool and calm, the perfect way to wrap a day. Tried out a restaurant called "Delirius" to close out the night but found it lacking authenticity. My Aunt Tina has more local connections than my mom and promised me a tour of the market at its height.

I walked around the corner from Delirius to a small stand in order to get grilled bake for local infusion but they had run out. My Aunt could see people gathering just down the street and suggested we check it out. We found out that it was a band preparing to play local music. Once the music started the crowd was up from their seats and wining their cares away. I was merely an interested observer with a small piton in hand.

Random thoughts

An untitled poem I wrote back in March 2009...

[Untitled]

the possibilities are endless
lives touch and cross through the ages
me, you, her and him
we each progress in our own time
false choices and pitfalls
path littered with mistakes
people we take for granted
the mistake is not taking a chance
in you, me, her and him
the possibilities are endless
but we all have one destiny
and i'd like to make you mine

One

"One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do. "

I've been analyzing and agonizing over life, love and relationships trying to find answers. They say no man is an island but there comes a point when there is just one. It comes down to you, to looking within yourself and finding who you are. I have changed a lot from when I was a child, far from where I was as a teen and evolved from my college days. Change is constant but isn't necessarily good. As we go digging deep inside our souls we sometimes find things that we do not want; we find things we have kept tucked away from the light of day.

I choose to define myself by the company I keep and in turn that company defines me. It is easy to lose yourself when you must live up to other's expectations; You are forced to fill your role as the funny guy or the foil.

"So many times I define my pride through somebody else's eyes (La da da, la da)
Then I looked inside and found my own stride, I found the lasting love for me
If I'm searching for my spirituality passionately I must begin with me

There's just me...One is the magic number 2X

If I add myself unto myself multiplied times you and yours and you again
There's just me"

I am not sure who I am or who I want to be. The deconstruction is still in full force and the blueprints aren't still in the first draft. Life would be simpler with answers, but I find myself with more and more questions. I wrote these two poems in the last couple months as I have been trying to find answers.

I still do not have any answers, but, I have poems.

New New

The first look into your eyes

First time our lips locked

the First you realized the thing you do that makes me smile.

First time you laughed just for me

First tear I wiped away

First time I realized I couldn't be without you

First we realized we were crazy about each-other

First time I noticed you drive me crazy

Then the first hate filled word

Followed by the first time I made you cry,

Out of sadness

Which led to the first shot of ambivalence

Now for the first time I know u weren't meant for me

The new is now the mundane

And if I knew if it would end this way

I'd do it all again

Prototype

You could be the one

Or the one who breaks me

I could be the bastard you tell your friends about

We may have passed eachother in a crowded street

Right now you could be on the downtown

I could be the one you were late to meet

You could be that fine one I failed to greet

I could be a huge pain in the ass

But I'd happily be yours

We've probably seen eachother 1 million times and not said hi

I was sad while you were glad

Distracted while you were focused

Thinking I should speak when you weren't in the mood

Have I missed my chance or are we destined

They just be concealing it

I found myself locked into a conversation with a friend about politics recently (Yes it is a day of the week that ends in "y'"). This individual has conservative/anti-government leanings and I have liberal/anti-corporate leanings. We disagreed on most of the usual things concerning government intervention: climate change, health care, and financial regulation to name a few. These are all the expected areas that our world views tend to polarize us on but at some point we hit the issue of race. There is apparently a portion of financial regulation legislation that sets up an Office of Minority and Women Inclusion (OMWI), with the intention to make sure minorities and women are represented in Wall Street firms. This individual couched this in the light of race; he excluded or maybe didn’t know about the gender issue.

Racism is apparently dead, it was apparently shot on the balcony with Martin, and I didn’t get the memo. In fact we are now living in a world of reverse racism. I hear this echoed in right-wing chambers like radio and tea party activists, but, this is the first I have had the pleasure to get it from the horse’s mouth. His concern was first that the government should not meddle in private business and second that racism is mostly gone. I refused to be pulled into the libertarian argument about government intervention but could not help the fact that his second point was dead wrong.

Racism is not dead. I do not know if I can say it any more plainly than that. I thankfully haven’t been through any major issues with race as yet, just the everyday stuff. I am hyperaware of my race and stereotypes and work hard to make a “good” first impression. Even with that I still get the reactions, looks and qualifiers. I do need to note some qualifiers of my own. I do understand that there are a lot of poor whites out there who have a tough time in this economy, in any economy, who see this as the government keeping them down. Racial quotas bother these people and I can emphasize with them. The key here is that nobody actively worked to get them and keep them poor over another person. What they are experiencing is the normal, however unfair, reality of class warfare that we all have to battle.

The OMWI is needed, the fact is that white males have a head start and everyone else needs some help to level the playing field. I believe we stand on the shoulders of others, this is the American experience, we build upon the past. My grandparents (If they had been born in America) set the example and help my parents do better than they did my parents in turn help me do better than my grandparents did and I help my kids do better. It usually takes several generations to come from poor to middle class and stay there; of course there are the exceptions that go right there no matter the race or gender.

Remembering What We've Lost

A lot more was lost on that fateful day than can ever be tallied accurately. Not only were thousands of lives lost, but, we have slowly lost our way as a nation since then.

I am reminded as I pass through Ground Zero that our collective wound is bare. It is open to all the harsh realities of the world: the tempestuous rains, the driving winds, the cold of winter and the searing sun. This reality is more than the still gaping hole in the ground, it bores one right into our psyche.

We all have this shared memory of where we were and how we felt that day; whether you were one of the buildings or awoken from your slumber in California. Most of us have not yet dealt with the resulting PTSD, war stories, casualties and conflicts only dig out the sores and compund the disorder.

We now want to judge which religion is good and safe. Those not deemed safe are to be barred from hallow ground. When the words Muslim and Islam are taken as slurrs and must be suffixed by "but" with a "positive" statement, we have not yet healed. When we retread "old favorites" such as burning books, we have not yet healed.

I believe that we won't heal unless we try to understand eachother by attending each other's houses of worship: temples, mosques and churches to name a few. The more we interact with eachother, the more we get to know our neighbhors the harder it is to hate. We find more points of commonality than difference. Perhaps that fateful day will be to first point of commonality and first chance at peace.

Back From Summer Vacation

The dog days of summer are finally coming to the end, the air is crisp and the material is new. I have tons of blogs coming in the next couple days: something old, somethings new, something borrow and something blue. I'll start with posts on my actual vacation to St. Lucia and sprinkle in some serious topics along the way.

St. Lucia '10 Day .5

Day one on every trip is usually day .5 as most time is spent doing things you don't like and don't want to do. There is the loads of laundry to acquire suitable attire for the climate, packing of the luggauge and packing the car to name a few.

These tasks make the days before vacation a pain and you just hope it's worth the hassle. It didn't help much that the flight left before the crack.

The arbitrary rules on the merits of plastic bags as lugage didn't help. The icing on the cake was the fact that the flight to ATL was late. Power garbage can?

I thought that getting to JFK was a hassle; the SUV was packed to the hilt. The cars tend to be smaller in St. Lucia, I found myself pressed up against luggage for the entire bumby ride to my grandma's place.

I was happily greeted by my granddad and grandma. I have not been party to such affection, especially from my granddad, since I was a mere pup. My grandparents love and care for all their kids and grandkids but are complete working stiff; they tend to be very formal in all most interactions.

My grandma had a meal of flying fried flying fish and breadfruit waiting for us; granddad offered up a beer. After consuming all that was before me I took in the outside: the chickens had the run of the backyard, the cashew tree was rife with ripe fruits and the cherry tree had all but surrendered all its fruit to the earth.

My aunt picked me up and talked about the goings on and the useful sites along the way. The first thing I noticed there was the big screen HD TV; I was eager to find out what passed for HD content in these parts. After settling for a bit it was time to explore and to acquire goods for daily sustenance. Crossing the main road was Frogger on crack I wouldn't expect anything less.

With LLB and breakfast options in hand I froggered back to my aunt's place. I'd already marked out several places I needed to try during my stay, the least of these were the food cart, the Jerk Pit.

The night was frankly horrible: mosquitoes were having their way with my flesh, and more annoyingly, were buzzing in my ear. To top it off there was no fan or air conditioner in the room. After many agonizing hours and many failed ear-plugging attempts, I was finally tired enough to ignore my my bite riddle itchy skin and the extreme heat and humidity. Day .5 was done and not a moment too soon.

Ghost Write the Script

On my way back from St. Lucia I was pleased to find that 2 movies would be shown on the flight. The first was "Date Night", Tina Fey and Steve Carell get into all sorts of hijinks as a couple from NJ hanging out in NYC. I initially expected to see Nicholas Cage in the second one as I had heard the attendant announce "Ghost Rider."

Instead of a fantastic film about skull headed, bike riding agent of doom, another fantasy about justice was being played. One where a war criminal was forced to be concerned with the reprocutions of his actions. Something far more fantastic than the comic book character.

So many of these leaders are quick to point to others as fiends and demons. They use their power to claim that the barbarians are at the gate to enact draconian laws and measures. The illegal wiretaps, unwarranted searches, indefinite detention and torture. Not one person responsible for this policy has had to account for their actions.

Despite the inplausibility of justice being carried out against a leader of a super power, I soaked in the scenario and enjoyed the "what if." All the while wondering when the scales of justice would be balanced. If the arc of the universe bends towards justice, we should be full circle to this point.

I met a Canadian...

And lived tot tell about it

We had a spectacular Curry-Q for Koolredd's bday about 2 weeks ago. Ever the generous comrade, Kool came equiped with women and a Canadian. Canadians are awe inspiring creatures with their "ehs," "yahs" and bobble jaws.

The Canadian and I had quite a lovely exchange concerning worldly matters such as the gum decorating our streets, continued on to discuss why Canadian women have chests like bears and discussed the finer points of curling. To them we are war mongerers who fritter away our precious resources on conquest rather than investing in the people. To us they are our cartoon cousins we have no actual use for.

All in all I think it was great for North American relations, we really got to understand why we don't hate each other, but don't particularly care either.

Put lots of toppings on my NY style pizza please

Hello everyone- hmm where to begin? Well, I'm Anne..better known on here as "Keysie" and I'm guest-blogging for HD since dude cant get off his lazy bones and download a program so he can upload his blogs..ahem. but i digress. A little about me:

I was born and raised in Ann Arbor, Michigan. After graduating college, I decided a warmer climate was in order and so my roommate, her boyfriend and I packed up all our things and moved to Charleston, South Carolina. Our lease was for 9 months and by the end of said lease I was so ready to leave. Don't get me wrong, Charleston is a beautiful place and I had some awesome times (the sunsets are STUNNING) but...I really missed the seasons, specifically spring and fall but.... I even missed snow! (not mention my roommates turned out to be assholes) So come April I packed up my stuff once again and moved to Chicago. Both my brothers already lived there and my parents were safely 3 hours away (far enough not to come over everyday, yet close enough for visits- you get the idea). I'm going into my fifth year here now- locals tell me that if you survive five years then Chicago is now your "hometown" but I still hold strong to my Michigan roots. Ya'll? it's beautiful there. If you've never been, please visit sometime, oh and *disclaimer*- have someone who knows the area give you a tour/plan your trip. Because there are some ugly parts (*cough* Detroit! *cough*)..so now that I got the basics done..moving on :)

(my friend Cathy told me the above paragraph was boring but I ignored her so, sorry.)

I met Dynamo through my first "adult job", he being my tech support contact out of headquarters in NY and I being the administrative assistant and only person with any computer skillz (um the bar wasn't set too high). We didn't get much work done, in fact when I broke our phones he laughed hysterically instead of helping me but even now I chuckle because it was pretty damn funny...ah to be the fly on the wall while I ran around red faced and panicked because the phone lines wouldn't stop ringing! good stuff. Dynamo and I have been friends pretty much ever since then. In fact, I went to NY last year for the first time and dude showed me around. Here are a few things I noticed, while comparing Chicago to NY...

1) I was WAY overwhelmed by how much there was to see and do..but I shouldn't be shocked since, like I said, I've lived in Chicago for five years and am JUST now starting to feel like I know my way around the neighborhoods, how to show someone from out of town a good time and also have my own regular spots *insert Cheers theme here* BUT I was also shocked at how MUCH is packed into such a small area. When HD visited me, he mentioned how spread out Chicago is and I mean, I always thought it was over-packed. But this was before MY visit out there, now I see what he means.

2) Chicago should really learn from NY's example because, in my humble opinion, the subway system there? way better. I think I may have exclaimed "ooo shiny" when I saw your plastic seats. I know I know- whats the big deal Anne? well, let me tell you. Here? we have this cheap carpet on our subway seats...and if you've ever sat on a wet one...you know where I'm going with this. It makes NO sense..NONE! So when Chicago decided to redesign their subway cars AFTER NY's I thought "yay!"...imagine my shock when I saw those effing carpeted seats ONCE AGAIN. I don't get it- I mean, how do they clean those seats (oh right..they don't *raises eyebrows*). Also, we totally failed on the bench seats like you guys have too. The point of those is to give people more room to sit, plus help avoid bags getting slapped in your face but did Chicago's public transpo recognize this? nope. They instead put a bar every two seats, limiting capacity. These new subway cars have been removed from tracks for faulty brakes so perhaps they'll redesign but I'm not holding my breath.

3) I'll probably regret admitting this but NY? has better pizza...However (looks at HD) that's because you canNOT compare deep dish pizza to NY style. It's a totally different species of pizza, people. Enough said.

I'll leave it at that for now. Nice to meet all of you :)

There is an additional software program needed to do that

AKA "There's an app for that"

The handheld units of today are wondrous machines with limitations that somewhat defy understanding. When these devices started mainstreaming mobile use of the net they touted the end of mobile versions of web pages. Apple is famous for making the nytimes that well was the nytimes.com not some text based bastardized version. Now there is any app for that too.

Standards should mean something, designers and programmers have had pages that work cross-platform for ages yet now any additional hiccup has been thrown in. Instead everything from wall street journal to your favorite tv shows site needs to be append down to size.

Just tell me straightforward that your device uses a weird resolution and wont display pages properly instead of appending them to your app-list. There are legitimate apps like productivity, games and research tools. If you dont fall into that category you should not be counted as anything but making up for odd limitations due to stupid engineering choices.

Washed Away

The horizon is over-cast by the deep water

Yet it is everything but still

As i am fixed on disaster

New species birthed this day

Crude Dolphins and seaturtles

Rich with Omega BP, bad for the blood

Now bad blood cross oceans

Lives lost to bad notions

Of what makes a bottom-line

Now from top to bottom lined

With dark grease and toxic sheens

Dispersed till site unseen, never out of my mind

Or maybe I am

As i consider torches and pitch-forks

All fouled up no time for talk

Just enough to place heads on pikes

For spite, revenge and warning to the next

Showing Up

There is some wise saying that i cant quite get right and require the use of the google in order to quote correctly. Basically it amounts to the fact that the least a person can do is to show up. There are so many times in our lives that we allow fear or discomfort to take over. It is always better to face something than let it linger.

It is any approach that i am quite familiar with as i find my passive nature overtaking my better senses. Usually what we fear facing is a lot greater in imagination than in practice. If there is one thing i have learned is that "Obstacles are smaller than they appear."

This does not mean that "showing up" will automatically solve the problem. You have to put in work once you get there. That bully may be surprised you showed up,but, you gotta swing and block to win the fight in the end.

I had a court date for traffic violation the other day. I showed up and the cop didnt. I am sure the judge would have gone with his word had he shown his face; all he had was mine, case dismissed.

Gulf

(May 21)

Its been a little over a month since the gulf started gushing fuel. Undetermined amounts of methane and oil are making their way to the surface from the depths of the Gulf; it seems both goverment and private entities are powerless to stop it. The combined antics of BP, Haliburton and Transocean have dug a hole that no one seems to be able to dig out of.

Meanwhile our precious refuges are being soiled and ways of life marred. I cannot say whether the damage is irreperable, but, I can only imagine given the already depleted regions and poor economy. I can only hope that this will serve to highlight and finally codify the evolution that needs to occur. Crony capitalism is what has brought down the financial system and made a huge gulf between the rich and poor; Crony capiltalism is why the gulf is gushing.

Untitled

(April 17th - Beware contents may be whiny)

Happy Birthday to me. This blog started as a way to share pictures of my first birthday extrvaganza. It came to be an outlet following surgery and a means of pontificating my ideology.

If a tree falls in the middle of the woods does a make a sound? Is the hot air I blow on a weekly basis making any difference? Does it matter?

What I do know is that this venue has allowed me to be more creative. I used to scribble random thoughts on notepads littered around the house; Incomplete thoughts and ramblings without focus or a need for completeness.

These threads of cosciousness are now take shape as poems, menifestos and random shit. I am not sure if I would have lost my sanity without it but I do know I would be less put together. So a toast is due to the blogisphere and all the poets, writers, mcs and journalists doing their thing. I am glad to add my tiny voice to the chorus.

B-boy

(April 18th - Beware contents may be whiny)

I have had a bad run on birthdays as of late. After a couple years of really awesome celebrations I have gotten myself into a rut. I can't seem to find anything that feels right. I tried keeping things completely lowkey and I hated it. I thought full posse might do the trick but it hasn't felt like a birthday.

I am not looking to have people worship my every step but I feel shut out. It is absolutely my fault as I have purposely kept it quiet but I am still questioning where the love is. So I guess I need to go on a blowhorn next year. I am gonna start planning early. Maybe I can go to a tropical island or watch the knicks if they are any good. So it is time to go to the drawing board, figure out what I like; what's truly me.

A long way to you

(April 23rd)

I started this journey @ 2am. The day was new, there was a crispness in the air. The truth is that this journey started 2 months ago, we were new; still much left to be discovered. From the day we met i knew that i had to come back to you.

Each torturous day soothed by your garbled voice over skype. Reconstructed in my brain to sound like the more like your particular pitch. I have closed the distance yet too many miles and hours still seperate us. I am doing hard time and the airport aiting area is my cell.

I have been bounced around, turned around, rerouted and overbooked. Yet I find myself single-minded, focus and determined to get to you. My desire is to breathe, to eat and to be with you. Minutes turns to hours and the sun begins to fade away from this day.

The setting sun is a glorious crimson, mirroring the delight, the passion I feel having returned to your presence. This feels like the first time, like catterpillars reaching their prime, like the butterflies let loose in my mind. A universe of possibilities, combinations and permutations have led you to me and us to now.

Roatan Part Deux

(April 23rd)

I started packing days in advance so I would be fully prepared for me trip. I checked, double-checked and tripled-checked and still managed to forget several items. I left the most important, thoughtful items at home; I fail.

I was quick to get out in the morning. Running on just 1 hour of sleep is somehow invigorating. Perhaps it is the fact that at any moment I could be asleep again.

I stepped to the check-in counter to begin what I felt was to be a run of the mill transaction. I handed over my passport, "Mr James?" There was about 5 minutes of key mashing and facial contortions. After one last look of concern the agent go up and walked to a super agent. Their short powow cause my original agent to walk clear across the area to speak to another individual. This meeting of the minds also consulted super-agent. Having quietly waited while this all went down I decided it was time for some action, "is there a problem with my ticket?" Was met with "not that I know of sir" by super agent. Really odd given what I have noticed thus far.

The discussions and calls wnet back and forth for a long time. Agent eventually came back to talk face to face with super-agent then took a quick look at his terminal. I asked him the same question i had asked super-agent. We overbooked your flight and you are the last one on the list. We are trying to find any alternate"

I guess that isn't a problem with my ticket, super-agent was right, i just didnt have a ticket to speak of. "Could you find a way to get me final stop to be Roatan" After some fanagling between agent, super-agent and I, i was granted a ticket to Roatan; planned arrival 6pm which makes my grand total 15 hours from departure.

April was Lame

My bday month was really lame except for a few choice parts. April can officially suck it.

Who are you?

Everyone struggles with identity at one point or another. In New York and U.S as a whole we tend to be divided by hyphens. There are even commercials that celebrate these hyphens. The truth is we all focus on different elements of our identity: culture, religion, ancestry.

Who am I? I am an Afro-Carribean-Male-Lesbian-Liberal-Progressive-American. Without knowing me a weird image may pop into a person's head. First of all I do not have an Afro, although, I am currently working on one. I was certainly born on the ilse of st lucia, which counts a long way to being Carribean; I do not believe I have Carib ancestry so go figure. Male is fairly easy and obvious and I do love women so lesbian is fitting. Liberal means I probably look like Mao and progressive means I have a Karl Marx "Stache." I am naturalized in the good o' US of A.

On site I would likely just be labeled an Afro-American. X would be Indian-American, LBO would be American and, Koolredd would smack you and let you know he is African. (Insert Dead Prez Lyrics here) This topic always reminds me of an episode of SeaLab 2020 where there are two character with the same name. For clarification purposes one is deemed "Black-Debbie" in order to tell them apart. (Sealab 2021) This is of course meant to highlight the double standard.

There is another tv bit that is fairly funny but still rubs me the wrong way. Its a skittles commercial with a Korean man dressed in traditional scottish attire. He then exclaims to his son that they are a combination of opposites like skittles. While I understand the intended humor there is still an under-current of something being wrong with an ancestral Korean being born in Scotland.

The burning question is a matter of recognizing and celebrating the unique backgrounds we all have. We all have a tapestry; Nobody is all this or all that. We shoul celebrate Claw's Italian roots, Keysie's Czechoslovakian/Irishroots and so forth. In the end we are all Americans, we carry that with us wherever we go. Unless you stitch a Canadian flag to your backpack for safety.

The Turtle and the Rabbit

(From 2/13/2010)

I have a long-standing belief that 99% of the people in this world are idiots. While that may seem harsh at first blush, consider the sample of people you run into your entire life. I am not talking about people you know personally because they tend to clean up their act for you. You are likely the one person they are not an asshole to.

I developed and tested out this theory with several detailed case studies throughout my life. I started testing in high school, further advanced this in college and have applied the theory in my work life. The real mystery is why people are this way.

People are self-centered, selfish is probably more apt. We don't often take time to consider what the other person wants, especially if they are unfamiliar. I was reminded of this recently on my way home. I was in the cross-walk on my way to the bus stop when a bus rounds the corner out of nowhere, honks, and almost clips me.

The next bus was just about two minutes behind; as I approached to pay my fare the bus driver stopped me to ask what happened with the previous bus. I told him what happened and then we started exchanging stories. When it came to my stop we remarked that the same bus which grazed me was now at the same stop. His chest puffed and his smile wide, my bus driver was proud that his pace and careful driving paid off "This reminds me of the story about the turtle and the rabbit."

I walked out the bus and was annoyed to see the light wasn't in my favor. I could see that a bus was only a block away. I rushed across the street cutting in front of the first bus. I dashed to the bus stop with time to spare. I relaxed into my seat; I was elated because if I hadn't made this bus I'd be out in the cold for who knows how long. As I looked out the window at the cars passing by another bus overtook us.

The thing about my theory is that sometimes you're that asshole.

New Day

An actual sunrise is upon us today

our yesterdays were grey

now a new light shines.

I can still see the rain clouds

Just past the horizon

I know there are more grey days ahead

2 Souls

I have been trying to describe a feeling,no, a state of mind. It is the reason that two people with distinct backgrounds and complete opposite personalities can be the best of friends. It is the reason X and I connected from jumpstreet and have been inseparable ever since. I can't describe in perfect words why we are good friends any more than I could explain why clowns give me the chills. You either get it or you don't.

I don't mean to denigrate other relationships. As a matter of fact it took a while LBO and I to become friends. We balled quite a bit but we weren't pinkie swearing from day one. Now we are as thick as thieves, nothing comes between us except: women, poor passing choices in 2K10 and various stupid decisions he makes like chewing with his mouth open.

These examples bring us to the crux of the argument. I have never experienced the former in the context of a romantic relationship. I've either been attracted to a person or thought they had an interesting personality. Love grew from there. I have never felt an instant connection till now.

"Amor en primera vista"

I still refuse to call it that. Its like trying to define a black hole or the square of -1. How does one define the undefinable? How does one hold the wind? Yet here I am thinking and feeling for a person I barely know for all intents and purposes. This is impossible.

This is rare.

To a Person

*

"Of Mice and Men" was one of the assigned readings I put off multiple times in high school. I only retain a single quote from that assignment: "the best laid plans of mice and men off go awry." Unfortunately for me I was born a planner. I've had a long-term plan for my life since I was 9. I loved to watch sci-fi with my pops; I knew I wanted to be a scientist.

By the time I was 20 I formulated plans to start a program to expose youth to computers and engineering. At 21 I made plans for retirement, once I got tired of the engineering thing: open my own restaurant and be the architect of a school for technology.

I am not a scientist, I am an engineer. Frankly I don't think my 9 year old brain knew the difference. Geordi and Scotty were alright but they were nothing compared to mad scientist building robots. I took a long winding route to become an engineer. I made several long stays in the Halls of IT before being freed to higher level problem-solving.

One thing I have never considered planning is my relationships. I tend to ride whatever the current wave is and have violent swings between wanting to date to being just sick of the entire game. Despite the vivid imagery of my dreams for the future I have never imagined "my better half, and the role she would play.

I have run head-on into this several times in past relationships; that was usually the doomsday device. Is this what a fear of commitment manifests itself as? If I am being completely honest I have been truly in love 2 times in my life. I was also in these relationships more than long enough to consider marriage. At least one didn't happen due to complications to the overall plan.

My entire world view was thrown into question recently: Is it worth sabotaging my entire plan to take a chance on love? The thing about not knowing is, well, you don't know. If I don't invest the time to discover all facets of this relationship I could be missing on a person I should spend my life with. It is the ultimate question: what will you sacrifice for love?

I guess its time to rethink the plan.

*The original content of this blog was incorrect the actual quote is from "To A Mouse"; Steinbeck's novel was inspired by this poem though. Check it out: http://www.essentiallifeskills.net/toamouse.html

Roatan

Your shores are but a distant dream
Each memory like a grain of sand
I cannot wash clean of your beaches

every light reminds me of your sun
I flip the switch searching out the horizon
I no longer sway with each gust
The wind cannnot penetrate these walls

Being back in BK has been a bit of a shock to my system. I've never considered myself one to laze about much, but yet I find myself yearning for a hammock. The hand crafted threads cradling me as I sway gently in the warm breeze. The sounds of bob marley cooling my spirits as I drift away in a sea of content. The only hustle is from the scurrying of the crabs as they make their way back to land while the moon reminds us of what has passed and what is to come.

My mind is not a blank slate, no, it is free to frollick in its own maze. Kicking up long forgetten memories of days past and adventures that have yet to come to fruition. There is so much to discover and yet I could be content wasting my days right here.

A foreign smells enters my nose like the most pungent of smelling salts. Bob Marley is silenced, the beat replaced by a constant rumble. My toes no longer feel the air whistling through them. My eyelids feel the light of the sun beating against them, pulsing as the clouds and sun play peek-a-boo.

I open my eyes to my distorted image reflected off chrome. My head is perched on the shoulder of the person next to me; Next stop Canal street.

Vida Estreña

Each day we have a chance to do something great. Some days we choose to live that potential on the couch. Other days we choose to fill serving, not for ourselves but, for the betterment of our common man.

I have experienced many such days in this Island off the coast of Honduras. I have seen the faces of children who hold the possibilities of the world before them. Who knows which of them could make an imprint on this world or even a single soul. Right now they are just kids hitching a ride to get to school.

My eyes needed a checkup as things were out of focus. I needed a new prescription and have been working my way back to 20/20 the last 1/2 a year. What I have opened my eyes to through this last week isn't revolutionary though my words make it seem so.

This is the sort of things that poets and songwriters live for. This is the reunion with a friend you never knew you had. This is the chance to see the world through the eyes of a kid; where pools compete with turquoise blue oceans and bedtimes are still hurdles to overcome by any means. This is taking the chance and living this one day like none before or after matter. Most of all it is: doing when you don't have to, doing when you don't want to, or sometimes not doing at all.

***
Today was something out of a movie or a dream. It seems that the writers were determined to write twist and turns to keep things interesting. Every good movie needs a chase scene so the hero can show his cool under pressure. A good movie needs complex characters on the ropes with nothing to lose. Every good movie has a love story at its center to make the audience care. Most of all it needs to feel complete while leaving some things to mystery.

Life has a strange way of working things out; Humans have a strange way of complicating life.

Dynamo in an adventure with the kayak

My early teen years I went to camp and always looked forward to the "white water" rafting. I felt like a kid again, trying to explore the limits today. The house is on a beachfront , however, the deepest water I have encountered is about 3 feet. There is a reef that protects the land from most of the extremes the sea has to offer. For some reason the stormy weather felt like the perfect time to make advances to the reef.

I observed the waves before as they crashed along the reef line. The rain had swollen the bay enough when combined with the high wind gave rise to some waves on this side. I paddled out on 3 seperate occassions to try my hand at riding waves. I had varying levels of success; my kayak turned over twice.

My third time out I sought to explore yet another part of the bay. I went east from the pier and started paddling. While I was out there the waves became a bit rougher, but nothing I couldn't handle. I was fixated on the huge waves crashing on the reef; I found the rocking from the waves was relaxing.

I looked back to land and realized that i wasnt where I expected to be. My daydream like state and the stronger currents brought me out farther than I wanted to be. I dont believe I was ever in danger, but, I came close to it. When I got to land I saw the group talking to a local. She had become worried about my course and wanted to be sure I knew what i was doing. Just last week someone was sucked out to sea and needed to be rescued.

Honduras: Day 4

Storming Weather

I dreamt of pancakes that night.The lobster forecast fortold by the fisherman was on point. It rained all night and the wind was still whipping up something awful. I was ready decked out in full rain gear, swim trunks and wind breaker.

I leaned on the wind, it held me up, it felt like I was soaring. My mind free of the 9 to 5. Puffed up by the wind I felt larger than life. My worries being swept away as each breath of the earth passed through me. Soaking wet from head to toe as the rain washed over me. Scrubbed clean by the wind and baptised by the rain, I am.

The sun finally poked through, the wind died down, the rain let up. I walked down the pier back to the house ready to face the day. I made breakfast for the troops : scrambled eggs with ham, ham-cheddar omlete with bacon on the side.

I threw my swim gear on and hopped into the kayak determined to ride a wave. The stormy weather had kicked the sea into another gear. I attacked the waves did my leg was asleep and my arms were like noodles.

I joined the rest of the party at the mangroves that blocked access to the rest of the beach. In my previous adenture with the waves I saw a path through the mangroves; I decided to scout out the uncharted territories.

The route was eerie, like something straight out of a hollywood movie. The path through the mangroves was windy, dank and dark. There wasn't anything particularly special about it , but, it was real cool.

Honduras: Day 3

Perdidos

The sky was clear and the sun came in a flash, just as it had left the day before. The first order of business was food shopping. The order before that was to find the super market; Easier said than done. There is only one main road on the island but we missed the supermarket on several passes. "Un consultir por favor" was the order of the day as we asked for directions to the mythical market.

It was just as hectic as I imagined it would be with people from 3 different households. Four thousand limpera and a full shopping cart later we were back to the house. This particular trip required big guns so I ran back for the golf cart. I knew how to go forward but not reverse. I required help to figure out how to change gears. Once I got moving it felt just like my prius.

The security guard informed us that a fisherman would be coming in about an hour. That was 11am. Everyone failed to consider CPT. It was after 1 when we headed out to find some local produce and fish. We were roped in by the "only one road" mantra, it took us 3 hours to find the way.

We were richly rewarded once we arrived. At night we dined like kings: roasted red snapper, brazillian rice, fried plantains.

Honduras: Day 2

Exodus

The 2nd day kinda folds back to the 1st as I woke at shady Hotel Ceiba
Feeling quite cold; a sensation I had hoped I left under a foot of
snow in Brooklyn. Dunkin donuts was the first stop on the gringo
agenda. This was the low point of the day. It was like animals in the
zoo as locals passed by looking at us through the glass.

Before leaving the mainland it was time to head to a nearby
supermarket for some essentials. The most amazing part was the fresh
produce at super low prices. Honduran currency is about 18 or 20 to 1
US dollar, a 30 lempira pineapple is a godsend. Grocery shopping was done
with just enough time to hurriedly check-out and hop into a cab.

The cab took a circuitous route to the Ferry that was supposed to only
be 3 blocks or so away from the Hotel. The proximity of the docks to
the hotel was highly exaggerated. There was plenty of time to
purchase tickets and go through security. Two curious events occurred
with security. I was the only one during my time there who was
frisked. The booze was confiscated to deter any breakouts of boat
parties.

The ferry ride to roatan may soon be cooped by a theme park to replace
the death drop or superman: the ride. As the boat pulled from dock a
crew member handed out barf bags. I thought this was just a souvenir
of sorts till the boat really got moving, the reckless speed and
undulating waves made for one heck of a ride.

The downside to the ride was the marauding Texas grandmas who sat a
row away. The beef jerky-like tanned, tramp stamped, shit-talking duo
almost accomplished what the exhausting ride could not. Their
conversation ranged from make-up advice to the last biopsy. I was
really over with them when they went zoo exhibit on a tiny kid.
Perhaps it would be their reaction to any kid, which still doesn't
make it right.

Near the port of Roatan were two shipwrecks. I haven’t investigated
into the oddities as yes. The working theory is that they are there to
promote the growth of coral.

The ride to the house was windy and fairly treacherous at the un-policed
80k speeds around blind turns. This was only topped by the near
vertical drop down the dirt road to the garage which was still .5
miles from the house down an un-driveable boardwalk and dirt road.

Lunch was at a resort with multi-race babies at the preferred topic of
conversation. After lunch I kayaked and used the flinstone paddle-boat
machine for about 3 hours. The sun dropped closer to the horizon and
flashed green before it disappeared for good.

--
http://humandynamo.blogspot.com/

Dispatch From Honduras: Day 1

This feels just like it used to when I worked in jersey and lived in
BK. The crack of dawn in another cold month as if the rest were just
dress rehearsals. The 4am alarm is like old hat and the calls from the
warm covers are barely distinguishable muffle by my luggage. This time
is different because Ia am off to a beautiful land and people; a long
way from the stripmalls and boredom of Parsippany.

Everything goes as planned and I find myself at lee's a half hour
early.Our merry band was soon off to Newark Airport where we dined on
the finest overpriced chain food. The second act came in the form of a
continental breakfast of egg and cheese and fruit. I was in and out of
consciousness for the entire flight.

A cab picked us up at the airport and we began our trek. We stopped off at a local joint, there was no menu, they just brought out food:
1. A spicy soup with jicama
2. some rice and beans
3. fried chicken
4. Thin strips of steak
5. Bread fruit

The ride from San Pedro was one big game of chicken on one lane roads
carrying two-way traffic. It was like the morning or afternoon drive
through any busy metropolis with road work, insane pedestrians and
crazier drivers.

Ceida a port city north of San Pedro was the destination for the
night. Hotel Ceidà, a 5 story hotel, which made motel 6 look like a
resort living was where I laid my head down for the night. The TV came
fully loaded with cable. I got to see Nate the Great win his 3rd
straight dunk contest.

Content with the only honor bestowed on a Knick these days I drifted
off to bed. A few hours later a foreign feeling came over me, there
was a chill in the air. I woke to the great delight of still having
most of my organs, to the reality of a 50 deg night, I wept a little
as I was forced to cover-up with a blanket.

--
http://humandynamo.blogspot.com/

**Crickets**