Closing Time, Sorta

I’ve been meaning to write a final post to close the blog down. There are a multitude of reasons that I found myself coming to this decision: lack of time, sporadic updates and a lack of focus. These few months of silence have given me an opportunity to finalize my decision or so I thought. I find myself lost in the world where there is more talk of a doped up actor instead of what truly matters in our daily lives. I found myself locked in discussion with a coworker that left me shocked at the disconnect there seems to be in this age of information. Just the other day I found myself in a short conversation with a friend concerning Wisconsin that concluded when he stated “they are always protesting anyway.”

Instead of shutting down I have found a focus, I want to continue my study of democracy and provide information that is not often highlighted, as well as commentary on how this is relevant in this day and age. I may change the name and even the address of the blog, but that will come at a later date.

Cop Out

I saw a YouTube clip that has been making the rounds lately. It depicts a incident on a BART platform where cops were responding to a disturbance. Thanks to ubiquitous video recording technology in cell phones there is immediate proof and it has gone viral.

In this video there are several young men who are being detained by the cops. One man is lying face down with two cops attending to him. One officer has his knee on the guy's back the other seems to be grasping the guy's hands. No struggle occurs, yet the cop felt a need to pull out his weapon to further subdue the detainee. He discharged his weapon.

The disputes became about whether the cop intended to use lethal force. I think that it was unreasonable to consider using force at all. No matter the past or current offense a person is suspected of committing. Reaching for a taser to abuse an individual already in custody is absolutely ridiculous. It goes to show you how little respect and self control these officers have.

I can certainly appreciate the difficult situations and stress police officers are put through. On the same token officers need to understand what it feels like to be targeted and persecuted. The paradigm needs to change in order for there to be real peace. Officers tend to behave like field hands or masters, quick to crack the whip to make an example of a person. They should understand that they are there to serve us; give respect and it will be reciprocated

Similar Story:

New Orleans' Danziger Bridge

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=6063982

White Out/Motivation

Out of bed before the first stroke of the familiar bells, yet not much else was. I have been groomed by the highways and by ways these past few years. The lonely walks down barren streets, to wait on empty wind whipped platforms were just a distant memory... an unkindly reminder of my humble beginnings, my early struggles, and fear for my future and that of the ones I love.

Days like this make it all seem like dedication and love, but it is survival. Survival measured in organic foods, trips over seas and nieces spoiled. In the end we are are ruled by hope, mine now fueled by distant glimmers that hold promise for comfort. Comfort immediately broken by those who have fallen through the cracks, my nose pinched with the unfortunately familiar scent of those society has cast away.

Jack Frost isn't just interested with your nose; he will take any point to chill your core and break your will. The purpose of this long cold trek is to not become one of those filling the cracks. Instead I find myself finding comfort in the bootstraps, scarves and various articles handed down, now keeping the cold at bay.

In the end what people see is the office, the fancy title, and the new kicks. Before the office came hope, a plan by my parents, and support from loved ones. The fancy title was born out of debt saddled by my mother. And the kicks were paid for by countless weeks in lab past 1am, 3 hour trips from Kodak and a work ethic required to pay back the sacrifice made by others on my behalf.

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.