Today we should remember the veterans, and people off at war over nonsense. I hope we can get them away from the nonsense to come back to less nonsense, or more depending on where you live. I asked to work today, because my family is insane and I dind’t want to have to endure another barbeque. IT WAS SUCH A HOT MESS LAST YEAR. My mother kept, nicely, trying to tell my father not to barbeque. Then he kept asking why, and she screamed out, “BECAUSE YOUR FOOD TASTE LIKE GASOLINE”. ( I believe we were in SHOPRITE.) Then he walked around the whole day saying, “we’re not barbequeing, your mother says my food taste like gasoline”. Plus today we got paid time and a half, so I like that. I really like this job. I get to be me, and it is doing wonders for my lower body. Standing for seven hours will go some THANGS to your lower body.
Sometimes I live oblivious to myself. Unrealizing, or more so indifferent, of who I am in some facets or sorts. While in the fitting room, I saw myself in the mirror, and screamed, “ OH MY GOODNESS. EWWW I’m so skinny.” I saw my face which I look at every day, but it was different. I actually saw it, and how I’ve come together. As I put on the 32x32 jeans that fit just right, I thought about how exactly a year from now I was wearing a 40x34. It’s kind of weird. I have to buy a whole new wardrobe for my new skinny body. I could fit a small tee shirt. I was just outdone, and then I adorned myself in skinny people clothes and it all came together. I’m going to be giving away almost all my clothes that I have, they are unwanted baggage now because I don’t have to wear them and I can’t fit them, so what’s the point. Someone else could put them to better use then me, so that’s my plan.
WHY DID I FIND OUT TODAY THAT MY AUNT’S CHILDREN DON’T ALL HAVE THE SAME FATHER?
(I can’t take it.)
-Marz
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
YUMMY COOKIES
Why didn’t anyone tell me about Ne-Yo’s cd? I heard some of it the other day while buying my shoes for prom (in Gay Philly with my mother, it was actually almost pleasant.) And he is really good. His lyrics are kind of mature and they have some sort of essence, like the one where he tells the girl who he is breaking up with that he prays her true love is great. I like him.
He’s definitely better than Chris Brown. I would definitely let Ne-Yo have my cookie, what I’m calling my V today (LOL). I would just ejaculate in Chris Brown’s eye and said, “ I hope you got blind heifer.”
(So Marz where have you been and just want to come back here and start talking about Ne-Yo.
Well I let some boy eat my COOKIE, and have to recover from the whole ordeal.
I won’t say who he is, but on Saturday we sat in my kitchen, parents gone, and I read Nikki Giovanni to him, because he hasn’t heard of her. And he stared into my eyes as I told him what Nikki wants when she dies, and how she writes good omelets. ( I’d say great ones.) Then the time came, and I went to go get some protection, and I came back into the room and he was eating the cookies. I was like, “Could you let me go get the oven mitts first, goodness.” He said I could cook well and his mouth was burnt. I laughed and he asked for some white stuff, I got him some milk and that was that. (That so didn’t happen.)
But my father installed this new internet on the computer and since he won’t let me call Technical Support because it costs $1.95 a minute. The internet doesn’t work at home. That man told me to call Netzero through billing, and I say to him, “Will billing be able to fix the problem?” Then he wants t get mad when billing can’t help him with a problem that should be posed to technical support. (INSANE.)
But here are my days, because I wrote but didn’t have my blog to put them into. OH HOW I’VE MISSED YOU.
Friday Morning
Friday Evening
Saturday
Sunday
Monday
-Marz
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Making up titles is so hard
I woke up early. It’s ingrained in me to wake up at dawn, and it drives me insane, because I can’t go back to sleep. I lay in the bed for a few hours. I mulled around, and my mother left for church. I had to go to work after church so I went to get my stuff. I took me an extremely long time to find everything I needed. I searched a half an hour for this, and hour for that. It was insane. BY the time I got to the church it ended. I was secretly happy I missed it, and the pastor said he understood after hearing about my week.
I went to work, and nothing really eventful happened. (well PLENTY happened, but I don’t know what I can and can not say about work here, and I’d be damned if they fire me.) But why did this man come up to me and ask me where the men’s section was as we stood in the men’s section. I told him we were in the men’s section and the next aisle had some things too. He then told me, “this isn’t men’s clothes, this is gay shit, where are the MEN”S clothes”. He got kind of close to me and stared me up and down and I thought he must be speaking DL slang, which I don’t understand. But I went to leave and he was just standing there, so I’m thinking does he want a response to that statement. “Sir, I’m sorry that GAP Inc sells products that a homosexual may wear. Maybe you should try the G-Unit store.” ( I thought to say later on.) But he stood there staring at me, (up at me to be exact) like he was waiting for a response. When I told my bosses later on, ONE APOLOGIZED TO ME. I was like, “What? I’m just saying.” Because the staff recounts the crazy customers, but it was good that he apologized, even though I didn’t need it. I wasn’t offended by it. WHATEVER
-Marz
I went to work, and nothing really eventful happened. (well PLENTY happened, but I don’t know what I can and can not say about work here, and I’d be damned if they fire me.) But why did this man come up to me and ask me where the men’s section was as we stood in the men’s section. I told him we were in the men’s section and the next aisle had some things too. He then told me, “this isn’t men’s clothes, this is gay shit, where are the MEN”S clothes”. He got kind of close to me and stared me up and down and I thought he must be speaking DL slang, which I don’t understand. But I went to leave and he was just standing there, so I’m thinking does he want a response to that statement. “Sir, I’m sorry that GAP Inc sells products that a homosexual may wear. Maybe you should try the G-Unit store.” ( I thought to say later on.) But he stood there staring at me, (up at me to be exact) like he was waiting for a response. When I told my bosses later on, ONE APOLOGIZED TO ME. I was like, “What? I’m just saying.” Because the staff recounts the crazy customers, but it was good that he apologized, even though I didn’t need it. I wasn’t offended by it. WHATEVER
-Marz
Saturday, May 27, 2006
Disowned
Nothing much happened today. I went to work for eight hours. My mother told me for her birthday that she wanted to see X-MEN, so I told her we could go today. She calls me and tells me she is going to be late and is bringing my cousin. She shows up half an hour later than when she said she would be late. Then she proceeded to ask me stupid questions about did I have to go to the Mac machine. Yesterday, I told her numerous times that I was getting a new Mac card, and that it would be coming in the mail. I explained how happy I was to be getting my new Visa card, and she asked about a Mac machine when she KNOWS I don’t have a card. Then she asked me about the bank. She knows my bank closes at noon on Saturdays, and it’s seven, and you want to ask about the bank. I was angry she asked such stupid questions and told her. She then began to say I was verbally assaulting her character and she wanted an apology because she didn’t know, and BLAH BNLAH BLAH.
WE bought the tickets to the movie, and I got a discount for being a student. (Only a dollar.) WE went to this arcade to wait with my cousin. We then went and saw the movie after persuading my mother not to waste money on concession food. I didn’t really like the movie. I thought it needed more. I think all cinema seen in a theater has been ruined after all the incidents growing up. My father would always do something that would make me miss a good half hour of the movie, and I just never liked movies in the theater. They always seem like they are missing an hour to them. But X-Men won’t be winning any awards for the acting, so the people should have had more action. But I saw some things that are VERY RELEVANT to gay people, black people, JUST PEOPLE. (I also got a book idea, but whatev.)
When we left the theater, my mother and cousin talked about how great the movie was, and I saw the leader of the online newspaper I write for. I haven’t written something in SO LONG, and haven’t been going to meetings. But I’ll write something for her soon enough. As my mother, cousin, and I walked outside we saw my godmother, god father, and cousins selling those light up things people sell during fireworks. My aunt waned to talk to me about this and that. I wasn’t feeling a conversation after about 21 hours of sleep for the whole week, working eight hours, and having a prom the night before. I wanted to tell her I was off work, but I know she’ll probably want to use my discount. She said something homophobic that I can’t remember now, but I thought about it later on at the restaurant. My mother wanted to go to a restaurant because she wanted to sit down, and didn’t want something as informal as Wendy’s. So she chose Chili’s. ( I KNOW RIGHT) AS I sat there I thought about my godmother’s statement and how with my family I don’t really interact with them anymore, and it’s like mentally and socially I’m cutting ties with them, or getting them down to the last strand, because I know they are going to disown me next year, and if I can make myself live without them now, then I can survive without them in the future. It’s insane, but it’s what’s happening.
I snapped at my mother when she asked me if I was tired, when she knew the answer. Then I asked her why it mattered and she said she wanted to start a conversation. ABOUT ME BEING TIRED???????
We left the restaurant, and I kept thinking about how I’m sort of disowning my family first, in a sense. I also thought about how I’m never coming home for college breaks. My cousin is 20 and she had a curfew of midnight to be in the house, and (mus6t I even continue....)
We dropped my cousin off, and my mother and I came home. I went straight to bed. So nothing much happened today right?
-Marz
WE bought the tickets to the movie, and I got a discount for being a student. (Only a dollar.) WE went to this arcade to wait with my cousin. We then went and saw the movie after persuading my mother not to waste money on concession food. I didn’t really like the movie. I thought it needed more. I think all cinema seen in a theater has been ruined after all the incidents growing up. My father would always do something that would make me miss a good half hour of the movie, and I just never liked movies in the theater. They always seem like they are missing an hour to them. But X-Men won’t be winning any awards for the acting, so the people should have had more action. But I saw some things that are VERY RELEVANT to gay people, black people, JUST PEOPLE. (I also got a book idea, but whatev.)
When we left the theater, my mother and cousin talked about how great the movie was, and I saw the leader of the online newspaper I write for. I haven’t written something in SO LONG, and haven’t been going to meetings. But I’ll write something for her soon enough. As my mother, cousin, and I walked outside we saw my godmother, god father, and cousins selling those light up things people sell during fireworks. My aunt waned to talk to me about this and that. I wasn’t feeling a conversation after about 21 hours of sleep for the whole week, working eight hours, and having a prom the night before. I wanted to tell her I was off work, but I know she’ll probably want to use my discount. She said something homophobic that I can’t remember now, but I thought about it later on at the restaurant. My mother wanted to go to a restaurant because she wanted to sit down, and didn’t want something as informal as Wendy’s. So she chose Chili’s. ( I KNOW RIGHT) AS I sat there I thought about my godmother’s statement and how with my family I don’t really interact with them anymore, and it’s like mentally and socially I’m cutting ties with them, or getting them down to the last strand, because I know they are going to disown me next year, and if I can make myself live without them now, then I can survive without them in the future. It’s insane, but it’s what’s happening.
I snapped at my mother when she asked me if I was tired, when she knew the answer. Then I asked her why it mattered and she said she wanted to start a conversation. ABOUT ME BEING TIRED???????
We left the restaurant, and I kept thinking about how I’m sort of disowning my family first, in a sense. I also thought about how I’m never coming home for college breaks. My cousin is 20 and she had a curfew of midnight to be in the house, and (mus6t I even continue....)
We dropped my cousin off, and my mother and I came home. I went straight to bed. So nothing much happened today right?
-Marz
Friday, May 26, 2006
Junior Prom 2006
This morning I awoke at my normal time, dawn, and got ready for school. I went to see if my father would drive me to school s he could take me out early. Today is my junior prom. HE told me to give him a few minutes because he had gotten in early, or late, from work. HE arose and was getting ready. He kept saying how funny it was that I didn’t mind being seen with him hen I needed something, because freshman year I told them to never drive me to school and just let me do it alone. (I’m so independent.) WE drove the forty five minutes to school in silence except for the radio, and I read a book. (We don’t talk much.) WE got to the school and we went inside so I could scan in and he could sign me out. I got some things from my locker, and then I went and got my slip signed by my teachers. I wanted him to just let me go, be free, independent, because I had to get my nails and hair done, and my cash my check. But I got into the car, and then he drove me to work to get my TWO checks, which was a surprise. Then I wanted him to jut let me go, and he took me to the bank. I wanted him to just drop me off so I could go downtown, but he drove me downtown. Now I was thankful, but I don’t like to be a burden. I’ve been raised to sort of not asked for things if it will be a burden, so I feel like I’m burdening people a lot so I do things for myself, or they don’t et done. But I think my father wanted to be involved in some facet because my mother got my shoes and other things with me.
He dropped me off downtown so I could go get my nails done. (But I told him I was getting cologne because he always has something to say about my manicures.) I think he only left me because I left my calculator at the bank. I went to the store to buy some cologne. The cologne was in the normal box, and you couldn’t smell any of them. They didn’t have any samples, and I’m standing there clueless wondering how I’m supposed to get something that smells nice. I asked the guard and he said I could open a box, but these were the type of boxes that you need a knife to open. AS I walked around just glancing wherever, all these men proceeded in smiling and glaring at me. Some nodded wassups, and flirted, and I was like, “Please leave me alone,” in my head. I don’t know, but men are starting to look and talk to me more than they used to, and it’s starting to get like.... I can’t describe it. I don’t care for a relationship or for any people in my life right now, and all these people are all like, “Oh heyy... BLAH BLAH BLAH.” LEAVE ME ALONE, LET ME BUY SOME COLOGNE IN PEACE. I mean even hoodrats are hitting on me now, it’s insane.
I went and got my nails done, and the woman talked to me about my mother who I bought a certificate for a manicure-pedicure set.
I left there and I went to a few more stores. I bought this hot tie from the thrift store, and then I decided I wanted some fresh underwear for the prom. I got some from the GAP and used my discount for the first time. I caught the bus for two blocks, so lazy I know. I then caught the trolley, and went and got my hair done. I think the people treated me funny. I don’t know. But I felt like my barber didn’t want to touch me, maybe I’m just acting crazy. When I got home I made some food and watched Ellen, and exercised. I got ready around seven, as my aunt and cousins sat downstairs yelling.
I came downstairs and everyone was all “OOOh”, and” AHH”. The suit was black with pinstripes, and the shirt was a butter color, and the tie was a shiny silk gold tie, and the socks matched the tie, and the pocket square matched the shirt, and the shoes were FIRE. I took a good thirty pictures on my digital camera so I could transfer them to my computer, but also had my normal camera on hand with four rolls of film. I took pictures with my cousin. I was trying to be TOP MODEL, and my cousins kept making me laugh, which is TOO easy. I took some pictures outside and the neighbors commented on how nice I looked. One said I lost so much weight, and look healthy now. (Well what did I look like before?) My father was going to drive me to the prom, and told me to get a cd I wanted to listen to.
I DID NOT KNOW THAT MY FATHER WOULD BLAST THE CD AS WE DROVE DOWN THE ROAD. ( I got CeCe Winans.) I kept thinking about just how insane we must have looked rolling down the street blasting CeCe Winans screaming, “ I pray you pray we Pray”. But whatever.
I arrived at the prom, and saw some people and they looked so nice. I got there and the staff said I looked so nice, and then I took some pictures and put my name in the prom royalty bag. I walked down the corridor and saw some people. EVERYONE LOOKED SO NICE. I saw everyone and said, “HEYYY,” and gave them a hug , then I took a picture of them and their date. I was ready for everyone to look a hot mess. I told everyone that I couldn’t wait to see who looked bad, then everyone remarked, “what if you look bad?” SO I started telling everyone I’m going to look a hot mess, and I’m wearing lime green and hot pink. SO when many of the girls saw me they all said, “Marcus you don’t look a hot mess, you look so nice.” By the time I hugged and pictured all the girls it was already ten o’clock. I went and got in line for the professional picture. I kept making faces in the mirror, because the same people who did my senior portraits were doing prom pictures, and I HATE MY SENIOR PORTRAITS. I don’t care who said what about them, they aren’t me, and I HATE THEM. So I’m taking them again. I took the picture, and I hope it comes out nice. I”M PRAYING IT DOES, because that was my money spent on them.
I came into one of the main rooms and all the boys were taking pictures. I don’t like them, or hang with them. (I stay with the girls.) So I passed on that picture. I went in and no one was dancing. I sat down and tried to get the maids to bring me some food. They kept saying they would in a second, which turned to minutes. Everyone started to dance, and they started having sex with clothes on. Then they all just crowded in the front around the people who could dance really well. I went and took some pictures to capture the essence of the prom, and then finally got some food. IT was good.
I then went onto the dance floor, but everyone was doing the Franchise Boys dance, and I don’t know that one, because I don’t have cable, and I’m banned from their devil music, and wouldn’t listen to it if I could listen to the devil’s music. All the songs after that had their own particular dances that went with them that could only be viewed on BET, so I was left out. But I took pictures and laughed at people. I was appalled at how some of my girls were just giving it to the boys like that. (LOL I love how I get to act all wholesome and mess because I don’t have sex. LOL)
After more dancing, and two bowls of ice cream with sprinkles, it was time for prom royalty. WE had prom Dutch, duchess, prince, princess, king, and queen. WE had to pull them out of the hat, because the faculty didn’t want it to be a popularity contest, and make it able so the people that some of the kids call, “ the weirdos”, can win. I didn’t win, but I didn’t care. One of the children who everyone calls, “ a weirdo” won. Then we took group pictures with all the boys, I got to get one of the frot seats so I was happy. Then after that some of my girlfriends pushed me onto the dance floor, they began to rub their butts on me. I laughed the whole time. They felt really mushy and weird because of the silk like fabric of their dresses and the way it went across my pants. I didn’t catch the dance where I was supposed to lift my hands above my head and began to shove my pelvis into their backs, so I guess I didn’t do too well dancing with them, or having sex with clothes on. I then took some more pictures alone, and I got the shot I wanted to get, and it’s FIERCE. (Yall see it soon enough.)
I went outside and my father was standing next to the car with the hazard lights blinking. I got into the car tired, and he asked how was it. I told everyone the WHOLE WEEKEND, it was fun. But I didn’t really like it that much. Nothing really happened. The whole time I was there I thought about how I should’ve brought a date to keep me company, because everyone was busy with whomever, and I could’ve had someone to make laugh, or make me laugh. I started thinking about how I need to get on the person I’m bringing to senior prom. ( Notice I said person, because I don’t know about bringing a boy now.) Although LL, my ex lesbian lover brought her ex-girlfriend and they killed it. I also thought about how like I said previously everyone is more like an associate, and how the true friends were going out together to after parties. Some were going to IHOP, some were going to get knocked up, but they were still making plans and doing things, and I was going home. We drove through the roads blasting CeCe again past midnight, and I came home to some fried fish and Sex and the City.
-Marz
He dropped me off downtown so I could go get my nails done. (But I told him I was getting cologne because he always has something to say about my manicures.) I think he only left me because I left my calculator at the bank. I went to the store to buy some cologne. The cologne was in the normal box, and you couldn’t smell any of them. They didn’t have any samples, and I’m standing there clueless wondering how I’m supposed to get something that smells nice. I asked the guard and he said I could open a box, but these were the type of boxes that you need a knife to open. AS I walked around just glancing wherever, all these men proceeded in smiling and glaring at me. Some nodded wassups, and flirted, and I was like, “Please leave me alone,” in my head. I don’t know, but men are starting to look and talk to me more than they used to, and it’s starting to get like.... I can’t describe it. I don’t care for a relationship or for any people in my life right now, and all these people are all like, “Oh heyy... BLAH BLAH BLAH.” LEAVE ME ALONE, LET ME BUY SOME COLOGNE IN PEACE. I mean even hoodrats are hitting on me now, it’s insane.
I went and got my nails done, and the woman talked to me about my mother who I bought a certificate for a manicure-pedicure set.
I left there and I went to a few more stores. I bought this hot tie from the thrift store, and then I decided I wanted some fresh underwear for the prom. I got some from the GAP and used my discount for the first time. I caught the bus for two blocks, so lazy I know. I then caught the trolley, and went and got my hair done. I think the people treated me funny. I don’t know. But I felt like my barber didn’t want to touch me, maybe I’m just acting crazy. When I got home I made some food and watched Ellen, and exercised. I got ready around seven, as my aunt and cousins sat downstairs yelling.
I came downstairs and everyone was all “OOOh”, and” AHH”. The suit was black with pinstripes, and the shirt was a butter color, and the tie was a shiny silk gold tie, and the socks matched the tie, and the pocket square matched the shirt, and the shoes were FIRE. I took a good thirty pictures on my digital camera so I could transfer them to my computer, but also had my normal camera on hand with four rolls of film. I took pictures with my cousin. I was trying to be TOP MODEL, and my cousins kept making me laugh, which is TOO easy. I took some pictures outside and the neighbors commented on how nice I looked. One said I lost so much weight, and look healthy now. (Well what did I look like before?) My father was going to drive me to the prom, and told me to get a cd I wanted to listen to.
I DID NOT KNOW THAT MY FATHER WOULD BLAST THE CD AS WE DROVE DOWN THE ROAD. ( I got CeCe Winans.) I kept thinking about just how insane we must have looked rolling down the street blasting CeCe Winans screaming, “ I pray you pray we Pray”. But whatever.
I arrived at the prom, and saw some people and they looked so nice. I got there and the staff said I looked so nice, and then I took some pictures and put my name in the prom royalty bag. I walked down the corridor and saw some people. EVERYONE LOOKED SO NICE. I saw everyone and said, “HEYYY,” and gave them a hug , then I took a picture of them and their date. I was ready for everyone to look a hot mess. I told everyone that I couldn’t wait to see who looked bad, then everyone remarked, “what if you look bad?” SO I started telling everyone I’m going to look a hot mess, and I’m wearing lime green and hot pink. SO when many of the girls saw me they all said, “Marcus you don’t look a hot mess, you look so nice.” By the time I hugged and pictured all the girls it was already ten o’clock. I went and got in line for the professional picture. I kept making faces in the mirror, because the same people who did my senior portraits were doing prom pictures, and I HATE MY SENIOR PORTRAITS. I don’t care who said what about them, they aren’t me, and I HATE THEM. So I’m taking them again. I took the picture, and I hope it comes out nice. I”M PRAYING IT DOES, because that was my money spent on them.
I came into one of the main rooms and all the boys were taking pictures. I don’t like them, or hang with them. (I stay with the girls.) So I passed on that picture. I went in and no one was dancing. I sat down and tried to get the maids to bring me some food. They kept saying they would in a second, which turned to minutes. Everyone started to dance, and they started having sex with clothes on. Then they all just crowded in the front around the people who could dance really well. I went and took some pictures to capture the essence of the prom, and then finally got some food. IT was good.
I then went onto the dance floor, but everyone was doing the Franchise Boys dance, and I don’t know that one, because I don’t have cable, and I’m banned from their devil music, and wouldn’t listen to it if I could listen to the devil’s music. All the songs after that had their own particular dances that went with them that could only be viewed on BET, so I was left out. But I took pictures and laughed at people. I was appalled at how some of my girls were just giving it to the boys like that. (LOL I love how I get to act all wholesome and mess because I don’t have sex. LOL)
After more dancing, and two bowls of ice cream with sprinkles, it was time for prom royalty. WE had prom Dutch, duchess, prince, princess, king, and queen. WE had to pull them out of the hat, because the faculty didn’t want it to be a popularity contest, and make it able so the people that some of the kids call, “ the weirdos”, can win. I didn’t win, but I didn’t care. One of the children who everyone calls, “ a weirdo” won. Then we took group pictures with all the boys, I got to get one of the frot seats so I was happy. Then after that some of my girlfriends pushed me onto the dance floor, they began to rub their butts on me. I laughed the whole time. They felt really mushy and weird because of the silk like fabric of their dresses and the way it went across my pants. I didn’t catch the dance where I was supposed to lift my hands above my head and began to shove my pelvis into their backs, so I guess I didn’t do too well dancing with them, or having sex with clothes on. I then took some more pictures alone, and I got the shot I wanted to get, and it’s FIERCE. (Yall see it soon enough.)
I went outside and my father was standing next to the car with the hazard lights blinking. I got into the car tired, and he asked how was it. I told everyone the WHOLE WEEKEND, it was fun. But I didn’t really like it that much. Nothing really happened. The whole time I was there I thought about how I should’ve brought a date to keep me company, because everyone was busy with whomever, and I could’ve had someone to make laugh, or make me laugh. I started thinking about how I need to get on the person I’m bringing to senior prom. ( Notice I said person, because I don’t know about bringing a boy now.) Although LL, my ex lesbian lover brought her ex-girlfriend and they killed it. I also thought about how like I said previously everyone is more like an associate, and how the true friends were going out together to after parties. Some were going to IHOP, some were going to get knocked up, but they were still making plans and doing things, and I was going home. We drove through the roads blasting CeCe again past midnight, and I came home to some fried fish and Sex and the City.
-Marz
Friends and Associate's, a Ponder in my mind
On Tuesday my school had an African American drama production. We had one last year, and it was really good. I like that I go to a school that is minority filled and we are also academically achieving, because that isn’t seen much around the city. As walked into the auditorium to find a seat, I realized that I didn’t really have a group that I huing with. Everyone sat with their group, their clique. Their group of friends they are always with but are seperated by rostered classes. I began to think about the lines that separate a friend from an associatre, and how everyone at my school is on the associate side. I mean I talk to them, I ahve great times with them. But in the end they are just associate’s. I felt a bit alone sitting in a crowded room, thinking about Mary Mary singing, “ You can have people all around you, and still alone.” But it was a good alone. And as long as I have my mind and imagination I’ll NEVER be alone. But it was interesting to see how I don’t really have friends in school. I mean none of the kids have met my parents, been to my house, and things of the such. (I’d be afraid to invite them. LOL)
-Marz
-Marz
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Untitiled ( Late post)
Today's normal ppost will be postponed until tomorrow. Because I said so.
After schoolo ended I ran to put some stuff in my locker and change my clothes to something that I could wear to my retail job and ran to the train. I missed the train and had to wait for the next one, as I waited I began to do a paper for my college precalculus class. I finally caughtb the next train that came and arrived at my stop. I saw the bus up the street and walked to the next stop it would make, although farther, it would guarantee me a seat, because that bus driver will leave you if you aren't on by when she designates.On the ride I continued towrite my papaer on parabolas, while thinking about the research project i have due tomorrow on Fritz Haber. The subjective test I have on, I know why the caged bird sings.I thought about the test in honors Elementary Functions Ias going to fail. I thought about the SAT enxt week. I continued to look at the time because I couldn't be late to my first job, and I thought about the summer reading book I need to pick up. After writing a mental note on my hand to get the Kite Runner I continued to write and think about dinner. I decided I would stop at Wendy's before work.
I got off the bus cringing at the thought of the milliones of middle school children that ususally plagued the store. But I continued. I entered and the store was near empty. This boy stared up from his food and I got in line. It took a while to order and a longer time to receive my order. While standing in line the boy behind me had on this shirt that read, " up for any position," and I wanted to say soemthing cute, but quite ga, but I resisted. After receiving my meal I got my fork and straw and left the restaurant to go to work. WHen I left these boys left behind me, one screamed for me to come to him. I wasn't paying him any mind, thought or soul. I began to walk, and the boy screamed for me to give him five dollars. I really wasn't paying him any mind. I crossed a small street, and the boy and his friend started walking faster. I didn't look back and crosses a small road with millions of rocks in my shoes. He started yelling, " yo pussy ass motherfucker, I said give me five dolalrs."Then he started to say something to his friend about howb they need to speed up because I was getting away.
The one boy began to yell his obscenities at me, that I think we can all guess. (A lot of faggots, and pussys, some asses, and mother...you get the point.) I began crossing the street. Now this street is not a normal street, the speed limit is 45 mph and the people drive maybe 70. There are streetlights only every half a mile or so, and I was jay walking on these streets. (I am a professional.) I crossed the street and didn’t get hit. The boys continued to yell and were getting angry that I was, “ getting away.” I crossed the other street and hoped they got hit by a car, or tractor trailer, either or. But I wasn’t that lucky. The got across the huge intersection and the one boy began telling me to give his friend some money so he can get some food. I looked back once and the boy demanding food grabbed ner his waist like he was trying to gt his clotes to look like a gun. I’m thinking, “ you’re going to shoot me over food, if that IS a gun.” I walked indifferent to them as I turned around and since he kept talking I told ihm I dind’t have any money ( for him). He then ordered me to give his friend and him some french fries. ( I got a salad and a Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger. LS) I continued to walk and told them that I didn’t order those, and he kept pleading saying, “ Come on dawg, we know you got the food so just give it to us.” It was a plead that was more of a threat of what to come.
Now seeing as I’ve been robbed MANY times in the ghetto I knew they would either try and grab the bag from me or dig into my pockets. My arms were filled with an Elementary Functions book and some other things in one hand with a plastic bag filled with college stuff, and the other hand had the food. I grabbed the bag trying to bring my pockets closer, hoping they wouldn’t reach in them. The boys then tried to jump in front of me. ( We’re in a parking lot like their isn’t room to go around.) I moved out of the way the blocked. And the boy is yelling at me to give him some chicken nuggets and five dollars, so him and his, “baw,” could eat. He reached for my bag, but had my grip on it. (Just because I lost forty pounds doesn’t mean that my inner fat man is dead.) He ripped the edge of the bag, and nothing fell out. He then started yelling and screaming. I wasn’t fazed, I wasn’t scared. This had happened too many times before to be anything other than apathetic.
The two boys jumped in front of me determined to block my way, and I brushed them both off. One was dark skinned, near black and about an inch taller than me, but really skinny. The other one was thicker and maybe an inch taller than me, but he didn’t look like he was whole heartedly into the thieving business, but his stomach showed he was interested in the food. Then the demander hit me in my left jaw. It didn’t hurt. I’ve been hit harder. I’ve hit myself harder in my self abuse phase. He screamed something like, “that’s what your pussy ass gets.” I continued to walk, and then the dark skinned one, DEMANDER, turned around saying how he wasn’t going to let my, “Punk ass get away.” I walked at my normal pace, why run? What was going to happen? He began yelling for me to slow down. “Slow down faggot, slow the hell down. If I have to chase you, then I’m going to be mad. Slow down.” I laughed internally how he sounded like my father when I used to get whippings, but my father didn’t play CHASE THE CHILD. He continued telling me to slow down and since I wasn’t, and he was going to have to run to catch me, I was going to get it. ( I don’t think I was walking too fast. I was walking my normal speed, but you know how thugs have to dip and stroll and clutch their dicks, too much coordination at one time.) So he ran up again and tried to grab the bag. I crossed the street, and as the light changed I ran across to make the light, and he started saying to his friend something. I went to work and wasn’t late, THANK GOD. Also, I’m glad I work at a library, fools don’t go there.
So Gyea. I’m a BITCH. I’m a FAGGOT. I’m a PUSSY ASS NIGGA. I’m the BITCH ASS BROTHERFUCKER. THE DAMN BITCH RIGHT? I let some boy, hit me, steal me, sock me, rock my jaw. And didn’t do anything. I didn’t cause a spectacle and fight two boys in the parking lot of a dollar store. SO THAT EQUALS I’M A BITCH ASS FAGGOT. (Sounds about right. RIGHT???) Maybe if I wasn’t taught so much conflict resolution I’d been more about something. Maybe if I had caused a conflict to be resolved, I could’ve been more about SOMETHING. I guess this is gay bash a faggot week, and I’m the only one available. DAMN THIS DIDN’T HAPPEN TUESDAY WHEN I WORE DICKIES.
THINKING ABOUT IT
I’m mad. Not about the incident. I’ve lived it SOO MANY TIMES. It’s nothing new. But I’m mad that I can’t do something that isn’t hood without people assuming I’m rich and gay and then trying to rob me. As I walked away from the incident, in between the intersection and the library, I thought about how they are just NIGGAS.( I hate using that word, but some words only describe certain things and people.) But some people just are. I thought about how dirty they are and look robbing someone for money to get food, trying to rob someone for some french fries. HOMELESS PEOPLE DON’T EVEN DO THAT AND THEY ARE THE ONES THAT SHOULD BE DOING IT. ( Not saying homeless people should form gangs, but you get me.) I began hoping that even though only 1 out 3 black men go to jail, that for this statistical occasion it be two out of three, me being the third. But that’s not going to happen, it never happens that way. ME, the one coming form school doing work and getting food for his second job, was harassed by future rap stars. ( I mean NIGGAS only have few options. Drug dealer, hustler, criminal, rapper, basketball or sports player.) They are going to be the ones making money and I’m not. They are going to be able to brag in their lyrics, “ I kicked a faggots ass, and stole his french fries.” But what do I get?
THAT’S WHAT YOU GET
While I, a hopeful escaper of the ghetto, strives forward, more than likely I’ll be shot down because I’m a FUCKING FAGGOT for TEN DOLLARS to purchase TWO GALLONS of gas. ( Do the math for the future.) So that some NIGGAS can have enough gas to outrun the police for seventy miles. I GET TO BE SHOT DOWN FOR TEN DAMN DOLLARS BECAUSE I’M A FAGGOT. (OH but my exorcist says I’m straight now, and my new MASCULINE TRAITS will be in the mail.)
To be black, gay, and gifted in the ghetto are disgusting alliterations that should NEVER be construed together, but are done so QUITE TOO OFTEN. If only I were white, straight, and dumb in the suburbs I could run this country.
I MEAN THAT AND I’M NOT TAKING IT BACK. ( At least until I calm down.)
It’d be horrible if I had to start carrying a knife for some dumb mess like this.
I want so much better for my black people, for my generation, but it’s NOT COMING. IT ISN’T COMING AT ALL, EVER. Hence why I’m an albino Caucasian, until further notice.
I’M THROUGH.
P.S. (Please don’t comment to keep my head up, or on much of my insanity. I’m anrgy and my head is high.)
-Marz
After schoolo ended I ran to put some stuff in my locker and change my clothes to something that I could wear to my retail job and ran to the train. I missed the train and had to wait for the next one, as I waited I began to do a paper for my college precalculus class. I finally caughtb the next train that came and arrived at my stop. I saw the bus up the street and walked to the next stop it would make, although farther, it would guarantee me a seat, because that bus driver will leave you if you aren't on by when she designates.On the ride I continued towrite my papaer on parabolas, while thinking about the research project i have due tomorrow on Fritz Haber. The subjective test I have on, I know why the caged bird sings.I thought about the test in honors Elementary Functions Ias going to fail. I thought about the SAT enxt week. I continued to look at the time because I couldn't be late to my first job, and I thought about the summer reading book I need to pick up. After writing a mental note on my hand to get the Kite Runner I continued to write and think about dinner. I decided I would stop at Wendy's before work.
I got off the bus cringing at the thought of the milliones of middle school children that ususally plagued the store. But I continued. I entered and the store was near empty. This boy stared up from his food and I got in line. It took a while to order and a longer time to receive my order. While standing in line the boy behind me had on this shirt that read, " up for any position," and I wanted to say soemthing cute, but quite ga, but I resisted. After receiving my meal I got my fork and straw and left the restaurant to go to work. WHen I left these boys left behind me, one screamed for me to come to him. I wasn't paying him any mind, thought or soul. I began to walk, and the boy screamed for me to give him five dollars. I really wasn't paying him any mind. I crossed a small street, and the boy and his friend started walking faster. I didn't look back and crosses a small road with millions of rocks in my shoes. He started yelling, " yo pussy ass motherfucker, I said give me five dolalrs."Then he started to say something to his friend about howb they need to speed up because I was getting away.
The one boy began to yell his obscenities at me, that I think we can all guess. (A lot of faggots, and pussys, some asses, and mother...you get the point.) I began crossing the street. Now this street is not a normal street, the speed limit is 45 mph and the people drive maybe 70. There are streetlights only every half a mile or so, and I was jay walking on these streets. (I am a professional.) I crossed the street and didn’t get hit. The boys continued to yell and were getting angry that I was, “ getting away.” I crossed the other street and hoped they got hit by a car, or tractor trailer, either or. But I wasn’t that lucky. The got across the huge intersection and the one boy began telling me to give his friend some money so he can get some food. I looked back once and the boy demanding food grabbed ner his waist like he was trying to gt his clotes to look like a gun. I’m thinking, “ you’re going to shoot me over food, if that IS a gun.” I walked indifferent to them as I turned around and since he kept talking I told ihm I dind’t have any money ( for him). He then ordered me to give his friend and him some french fries. ( I got a salad and a Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger. LS) I continued to walk and told them that I didn’t order those, and he kept pleading saying, “ Come on dawg, we know you got the food so just give it to us.” It was a plead that was more of a threat of what to come.
Now seeing as I’ve been robbed MANY times in the ghetto I knew they would either try and grab the bag from me or dig into my pockets. My arms were filled with an Elementary Functions book and some other things in one hand with a plastic bag filled with college stuff, and the other hand had the food. I grabbed the bag trying to bring my pockets closer, hoping they wouldn’t reach in them. The boys then tried to jump in front of me. ( We’re in a parking lot like their isn’t room to go around.) I moved out of the way the blocked. And the boy is yelling at me to give him some chicken nuggets and five dollars, so him and his, “baw,” could eat. He reached for my bag, but had my grip on it. (Just because I lost forty pounds doesn’t mean that my inner fat man is dead.) He ripped the edge of the bag, and nothing fell out. He then started yelling and screaming. I wasn’t fazed, I wasn’t scared. This had happened too many times before to be anything other than apathetic.
The two boys jumped in front of me determined to block my way, and I brushed them both off. One was dark skinned, near black and about an inch taller than me, but really skinny. The other one was thicker and maybe an inch taller than me, but he didn’t look like he was whole heartedly into the thieving business, but his stomach showed he was interested in the food. Then the demander hit me in my left jaw. It didn’t hurt. I’ve been hit harder. I’ve hit myself harder in my self abuse phase. He screamed something like, “that’s what your pussy ass gets.” I continued to walk, and then the dark skinned one, DEMANDER, turned around saying how he wasn’t going to let my, “Punk ass get away.” I walked at my normal pace, why run? What was going to happen? He began yelling for me to slow down. “Slow down faggot, slow the hell down. If I have to chase you, then I’m going to be mad. Slow down.” I laughed internally how he sounded like my father when I used to get whippings, but my father didn’t play CHASE THE CHILD. He continued telling me to slow down and since I wasn’t, and he was going to have to run to catch me, I was going to get it. ( I don’t think I was walking too fast. I was walking my normal speed, but you know how thugs have to dip and stroll and clutch their dicks, too much coordination at one time.) So he ran up again and tried to grab the bag. I crossed the street, and as the light changed I ran across to make the light, and he started saying to his friend something. I went to work and wasn’t late, THANK GOD. Also, I’m glad I work at a library, fools don’t go there.
So Gyea. I’m a BITCH. I’m a FAGGOT. I’m a PUSSY ASS NIGGA. I’m the BITCH ASS BROTHERFUCKER. THE DAMN BITCH RIGHT? I let some boy, hit me, steal me, sock me, rock my jaw. And didn’t do anything. I didn’t cause a spectacle and fight two boys in the parking lot of a dollar store. SO THAT EQUALS I’M A BITCH ASS FAGGOT. (Sounds about right. RIGHT???) Maybe if I wasn’t taught so much conflict resolution I’d been more about something. Maybe if I had caused a conflict to be resolved, I could’ve been more about SOMETHING. I guess this is gay bash a faggot week, and I’m the only one available. DAMN THIS DIDN’T HAPPEN TUESDAY WHEN I WORE DICKIES.
THINKING ABOUT IT
I’m mad. Not about the incident. I’ve lived it SOO MANY TIMES. It’s nothing new. But I’m mad that I can’t do something that isn’t hood without people assuming I’m rich and gay and then trying to rob me. As I walked away from the incident, in between the intersection and the library, I thought about how they are just NIGGAS.( I hate using that word, but some words only describe certain things and people.) But some people just are. I thought about how dirty they are and look robbing someone for money to get food, trying to rob someone for some french fries. HOMELESS PEOPLE DON’T EVEN DO THAT AND THEY ARE THE ONES THAT SHOULD BE DOING IT. ( Not saying homeless people should form gangs, but you get me.) I began hoping that even though only 1 out 3 black men go to jail, that for this statistical occasion it be two out of three, me being the third. But that’s not going to happen, it never happens that way. ME, the one coming form school doing work and getting food for his second job, was harassed by future rap stars. ( I mean NIGGAS only have few options. Drug dealer, hustler, criminal, rapper, basketball or sports player.) They are going to be the ones making money and I’m not. They are going to be able to brag in their lyrics, “ I kicked a faggots ass, and stole his french fries.” But what do I get?
THAT’S WHAT YOU GET
While I, a hopeful escaper of the ghetto, strives forward, more than likely I’ll be shot down because I’m a FUCKING FAGGOT for TEN DOLLARS to purchase TWO GALLONS of gas. ( Do the math for the future.) So that some NIGGAS can have enough gas to outrun the police for seventy miles. I GET TO BE SHOT DOWN FOR TEN DAMN DOLLARS BECAUSE I’M A FAGGOT. (OH but my exorcist says I’m straight now, and my new MASCULINE TRAITS will be in the mail.)
To be black, gay, and gifted in the ghetto are disgusting alliterations that should NEVER be construed together, but are done so QUITE TOO OFTEN. If only I were white, straight, and dumb in the suburbs I could run this country.
I MEAN THAT AND I’M NOT TAKING IT BACK. ( At least until I calm down.)
It’d be horrible if I had to start carrying a knife for some dumb mess like this.
I want so much better for my black people, for my generation, but it’s NOT COMING. IT ISN’T COMING AT ALL, EVER. Hence why I’m an albino Caucasian, until further notice.
I’M THROUGH.
P.S. (Please don’t comment to keep my head up, or on much of my insanity. I’m anrgy and my head is high.)
-Marz
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
The Interruption Of Tranquility ( Sundays post)
TRANQUILITY.
I received as I slept. I got in late with this really fun woman I met at work. She, her roommate rather, gave me a ride home. She shared so much about her wild life with me I thought I'd give her something about my family and I, since that is where my drama sprouts from. I started, "Well, let's see. I'm gay and my parents are ministers." She started screaming, "OMG I love you," as she's been saying since we first met. AS I said it I thought about how there was no complexities to saying that sentence. Just a year ago I would'nt have dared say something like that, but there is was. The store knows I like boys. On my first night I had to tell five things about me, and I couldn't think of any. Reflexively one of the women asked five questions and do I like girls was one. I think it was a reflex, because that is something that is normally asked. But do I have a girlfriend is the more formal form. ( Everyone there thinks I'm like 19 or 20.)
But as I lay in my bed staring at the roof I was tranquil. Thinking about my dream, the dream I have for my life that I won't tell anyone because I don't want my vision to be clouded with the words of others. I don't want MY DREAM, to have THEIR WORDS looming like rainclouds. I may say what my dream is here one day, but that'll be later. I was at peace, I was tranquil, I was focused on my dream, and more, thinking of how to accomplish it. Then my quet was interrupted by my mother asking if I was washed or dressed for church. I wasn't. She said I would have to walk or catch the bus. I yelled something to get her to be quiet, I didn't really care. She told me that there was some pancakes and sausage downstairs for me. I thanked her and she left with my sister and father.
I finall got up and ready for church. Deciding what I was going to wear because first, some of the younger women call me, "Kanye," and since I'm not sociable I'd at least like to keep my dress style up. Second, because I had to go to work at the clothing store, (I think I can say I work at Old Navy here) and I can't look a hot mess. I turned on some gospel music that was upbeat and got ready. I switched the cd to something more deep, still gospel, and worshipped Jesus in my OWN vicinity. I did not need the tabernacle to create praise. I then turned on some gospel rock. ( GET SKiLLET'S COLLIDE CD. EVERY SONG IS SO HOT.) And I rocked with it and played air gitar and banged air drums, as I got dressed. I bought this shirt from the thrift store a while ago, and I wanted to wear it with my favorite blazer, but it didn't look right that day. But today it did look right, and I had a tie that was hot with it. I was dressed and I marked that outfit down as a WINNER, and one in the future hot outfit handbook. (It's not really a book, more mental. LOL)
I walked slowly to church, thinking I heard the trolley coming. So I waited at the corner like it was base during a game of tag, and then ran down to the next corner, as if the trolley was chasing me. I finally caught it, almost missed it, and got to church. I felt kind of bad because it was an hour later, and two hours into church, and the pastor had given me the assignment of doing the music. But as I walked in my father had taken my position. I wasn't missed, and I was happy, because I've lost my caring really. This cute lady looked at me, and she was a lesbian. She had come before with one of the women who called me, "Kanye," but I thought nothing much of it. I went and sat down and started to listen. The pastor's son, the one that said I was down 13th street and commenced my exorcism, kept giving me dirty looks. He wasn't there the week I got exorcised so he probably thinks I like him or something. I want to say something really hype to him using loads of gay slang; throw some quick GLOOM, but we never seem to talk. The pastor used a really nice metaphor that I liked, but I can't stand to look at him.
He preached about how Jesus wants to clean us up and make us whole. But we won't let him touch certain things because we want to stay in sin. He started saying how we want Jesus and our sin to live together inside of us, but it can't be that way. He then started talking about how these types of people and those types of people are going to hell. Then he started saying about how our sin will be braodcasted in front of EVERYONE and JESUS when we're in heaven and it's better to confess our sins on Earth then have to do it in front of Jesus. (Hasn't Jesus already seen it? JUST SAYING) Then the pastor's wife called the people up to the front who want to stand in Jesus but are leaning on a crutch, sin, that they can't let go. "Come to the front so you can let go of you crutch," she said. The lesbian woman went to the front of the church with some other people, and I was looking like WHY? The pastor's wife surely did give her the longest prayer and started screaming at her EXACTLY what they screamed at me, "You're looking for love in all the wrong places". Then after she threw down her "crutch," she began screaming, "WHO THE SON SETS FREE, IS FREE INDEED." She prayed for the other people, and then came back to the lesbian. And started giving her hugs telling her that it's better now and she can go on and be happy. I was so intrigued by how the lesbian got the most attention from everyone else, how she got the STRONGEST prayer, yet the other people probably were drug dealers. How she got all the attention for her (alleged) "sin," but a second ago they announced, "No sin is greater than the other". I was truly pissed. I was more pissed because this woman was crying and went back to her seat, her friend who brought her began rubbing her back and hugging her, consoling her rather. CONSOLING? Why does she receive consoling? What had she done wrong to have to be consoled? Consolation doesn't come over something simple. (I digress for right now.)
One of the other ladies began yelling in tongues and then screamed, "YES JESUS YES. WHO THE SON SETS FREE IS FREE INDEED." Then the pastor's wife began just sprouting verbiage about Jesus but what she said contradicted her previous actions. She began to say Jesus wants us to be us, and no one else. He wants us to live true to who we are. Jesus wants us to live a life more abundantly. HOW CAN ONE LIVE THAT WAY WHEN THEY ARE ALREADY AND YOU TELL THEM THEY ARE WRONG? I found it funny that they didn't spew as much gay hate while preaching, so they could attract the lady to get "delivered," and now that she is delivered, she can be another check they can count on. Another giver they can count on for the building fund, or whatever else. HOw they want to APPEAL to her, and make her feel like she OWES THEM, or JESUS RATHER ( how they'd put it) for being DELIVERED.
IF YOU CAN'T SEE BY NOW, THAT ANGRY BOY IS BACK AND LOUD.( AND DO I HAVE SOME STUFF TO SAY.)
Then the pastor's wife began talking about the offering, and I'm a tither and I believe in giving Jesus my money as a sacrifice and thanks for what he gives me. But I began to thinks some things. JESUS DOESN'T USE MONEY. Second in biblical times, the people would make sacrifices to God, Yes. they sacrificed their lambs and goats, some did fruits and vegetables, and Abraham almost did his son. (That sounds wrong. LOL) But they didn't give the fruit to the pastor, the OWNER of the edifice where the sacrifice took place. NO, it went to God. But I gave my money, because it's for God, and I have to remember that.
CHURCH ENDED
I went over to my mother to tell her I was leaving for work, and she was trying to get me to stay because she doesn't see me anymore. She kept talking about taking me to a library. I kept telling her she needs to get my father to call Technical Support so the new internet he installed can work, but he doesn't want to pay the $1.95 a minute for the call. NO he rather pay for the whole bill for the internet that is not working. I hugged her and she wished me a good day. All the church members were standing around socializing, and I didn't feel a part of them. I saw them all talking and I didn't want to be with them AT ALL. They truly disgusted me, disgust me, because I added -ed as if it's past tense. I went and walked out and no one greeted me, nor I them. The pastor was on the steps and I walked out and put on my glasses and when I got to the bottom of the steps he said from his conversations, " Oh heyy MArcus," very nonchalantly. I responded but not with anything real within me.
I walked down the street, beginning the few blocks I had to go to catch the bus. I walked pass a group of kids, then I walked pass this man, and he said, "Wow that outfit is hot. But it isn't so hot when a nigga is fucking you up the ass." I didn't know if he was talking to me, but there was no one around so I assumed he was talking to me. I wanted to yell, "I'm a top honey." But he may not have been talking to me ( he was), and if he was I didn't want to give his ignorance a response with information yet to be tested out.(LS)
I then became infuriated at the man and how he judged me on how I was dressed. I was mad at the church and saw a cycle that they make happen. They bash and bash away at gay disciples telling them it's a demon and they can get healed just so simply. They condemn saying that if they don't get Jesus and denounce their sinful desires they're going to hell. The GLB are so tired of being ostacized and made to feel sinful that they try SO HARD to become HOLY, by the standards of MAN, and THEN after they are DELIVERED, or are made to feel so, they go on with their life. But liking the same sex doesn't leave, and when it comes up again they feel so HORRIBLE for SINNING they have to go back and get more JESUS. It's all a viscious cycle to keep gay people in this emotional and spiritual abuse that makes them constantly reprove themselves, and constantly call themself an EVIL SINNER, and constantly try to not look at the same sex. I was just all too through.
I walked down another block and rain began to pour randomly but hard. I stayed under trees feeling only some of the raindrops. I was just so angry because I KNOW that lesbian. I WAS HER at 12. I got in line EVERY DAMN WEEK for SO LONG because Jesus could deliver me. I pinched myself mercilessly everytime I even LOOKED at another man, because if I resisted the devil he would flee from me. I prayed SO DAMN HARD for God to kill me if I couldn't be straight. TO make me straight or kill me dead, because I didn't want to go to hell. I remember the first time I got DELIVERED, I thought it didn't work because I didn't go to the front of the church like the others anbd tell everyone I had a spirit of homosexuality like they said was the onlyway to be truly delivered. I thought that I was this uncontrollable sinner because boys CONTINUED to attract my eyes. I told myself constantly I was going to hell. But all of that pain I CAUSED myself; it wasn't worth a bit of the drama.
I walked down another street, and this lady jumped in front of me. She excused herself, and I didn't take it as that big of a deal. I'm not one to get offended over something as silly as walking in my way. This crowd of black men on their front porch stopped playing whatever card game they were playing as I walked by. They SILENCED and stared at me, or so I thought, my sunglasses are dark so I couldn't see. They said some things about me being a faggot and that they should kick my ass. I walked to the end of the block and there were four little kids dancing. They were all boys had to be around 8 to 10. I waited on the light and they stared at me, then when the light changed I went to cross. "Yo that gay ass nigga look all gay. He looks like shit. That faggot ass pussy." BLAH BLAH BLAH. I thought about how they were so young, but knew so much homophobia and gay hate. I thought about how one of them may be gay and saying those words not to be looked at differently. I know I said some things once to not be looked at that way, but I was told to shut the hell up because I suck dick as a hobby.
As I walked down the street. I just thought. I wasn't really fazed or hurt; I'm used to being called a faggot, being jeered at, having gangs of people taunt at me, and want to brutalize me for no reason at all. Because according to the church I'm not gay because I haven't had sex with a man yet. OH WAIT, but then another church says that if I look at a man. Looks like even the church can't get straight. (Pun it if you want.) I began to think how I hated straight people, not all of them, but the better majority. THEY IRK MY SPIRIT. I began to think how I hated black people, only negroes are that hateful, and it's VERY STRANGE that out of ALL the people that know I'm gay only one is black, and I'll be damned to tell anyone else because they are just a hot MESS. I began to think how I HATE the ghetto, because if I was living in some suburb I wouldn't be looked at strange for wearing clothes that fit or a blazer, tie, button down shirt , some jeans, and nice sneakers.
I thought about how everyone SWEARS I'm rich. They say I act white. Not uppity in a sense, more like sophistcated and refined, but not showy. I remind them that they are saying that black people are then unsophisticated and minute in class. These words are too big, and helps prove my whiteness, so they reduce it to, "niggerish". I got down to the bus stop and had a lot to ponder on. How I not only hated, well it lowered to dislike by then, my race, my community, and another sexual oreintation other than mine. I thought how I don't belong where I am, and AGAIN what am I supposed to be learning from living and experiencing my life. My skin has grown tough against being called a faggot, where are my real suburban parents? But it realy doesn't matter because SOON, OH SO SOON, I'll be gone. Everyone is destined for something, in my opinion, and I KNOW that my destiny is not some ghetto oppresive place.
I was once silent, tranquil, cozy, and calm. Resting in my indifference. Living my life introverted from almost being shot in North Philly for being a, "FUCKING FAGGOT. " (Because one that didn't fuck would be acceptable I guess, but OH WAIT. I AM ONE THAT DOESN'T OR HASN'T had sex.) My tranquility has been interrupted, and I'm livid.
My soul has been vexed and kicked and I'm more determined to leave the ghetto, my BLACK PEOPLE, and the STRAIGHTS. I don't care how whatever I may sound. EVeryone says that the rich get rich and don't give back, well I won't be giving a HOT DAMN to anyone. I got mine on my own, and I'll leave the others to get theirs on their own. Anyone else can be left unsophistcated and minute..........................
"NIGGERISH".
-Marz
I received as I slept. I got in late with this really fun woman I met at work. She, her roommate rather, gave me a ride home. She shared so much about her wild life with me I thought I'd give her something about my family and I, since that is where my drama sprouts from. I started, "Well, let's see. I'm gay and my parents are ministers." She started screaming, "OMG I love you," as she's been saying since we first met. AS I said it I thought about how there was no complexities to saying that sentence. Just a year ago I would'nt have dared say something like that, but there is was. The store knows I like boys. On my first night I had to tell five things about me, and I couldn't think of any. Reflexively one of the women asked five questions and do I like girls was one. I think it was a reflex, because that is something that is normally asked. But do I have a girlfriend is the more formal form. ( Everyone there thinks I'm like 19 or 20.)
But as I lay in my bed staring at the roof I was tranquil. Thinking about my dream, the dream I have for my life that I won't tell anyone because I don't want my vision to be clouded with the words of others. I don't want MY DREAM, to have THEIR WORDS looming like rainclouds. I may say what my dream is here one day, but that'll be later. I was at peace, I was tranquil, I was focused on my dream, and more, thinking of how to accomplish it. Then my quet was interrupted by my mother asking if I was washed or dressed for church. I wasn't. She said I would have to walk or catch the bus. I yelled something to get her to be quiet, I didn't really care. She told me that there was some pancakes and sausage downstairs for me. I thanked her and she left with my sister and father.
I finall got up and ready for church. Deciding what I was going to wear because first, some of the younger women call me, "Kanye," and since I'm not sociable I'd at least like to keep my dress style up. Second, because I had to go to work at the clothing store, (I think I can say I work at Old Navy here) and I can't look a hot mess. I turned on some gospel music that was upbeat and got ready. I switched the cd to something more deep, still gospel, and worshipped Jesus in my OWN vicinity. I did not need the tabernacle to create praise. I then turned on some gospel rock. ( GET SKiLLET'S COLLIDE CD. EVERY SONG IS SO HOT.) And I rocked with it and played air gitar and banged air drums, as I got dressed. I bought this shirt from the thrift store a while ago, and I wanted to wear it with my favorite blazer, but it didn't look right that day. But today it did look right, and I had a tie that was hot with it. I was dressed and I marked that outfit down as a WINNER, and one in the future hot outfit handbook. (It's not really a book, more mental. LOL)
I walked slowly to church, thinking I heard the trolley coming. So I waited at the corner like it was base during a game of tag, and then ran down to the next corner, as if the trolley was chasing me. I finally caught it, almost missed it, and got to church. I felt kind of bad because it was an hour later, and two hours into church, and the pastor had given me the assignment of doing the music. But as I walked in my father had taken my position. I wasn't missed, and I was happy, because I've lost my caring really. This cute lady looked at me, and she was a lesbian. She had come before with one of the women who called me, "Kanye," but I thought nothing much of it. I went and sat down and started to listen. The pastor's son, the one that said I was down 13th street and commenced my exorcism, kept giving me dirty looks. He wasn't there the week I got exorcised so he probably thinks I like him or something. I want to say something really hype to him using loads of gay slang; throw some quick GLOOM, but we never seem to talk. The pastor used a really nice metaphor that I liked, but I can't stand to look at him.
He preached about how Jesus wants to clean us up and make us whole. But we won't let him touch certain things because we want to stay in sin. He started saying how we want Jesus and our sin to live together inside of us, but it can't be that way. He then started talking about how these types of people and those types of people are going to hell. Then he started saying about how our sin will be braodcasted in front of EVERYONE and JESUS when we're in heaven and it's better to confess our sins on Earth then have to do it in front of Jesus. (Hasn't Jesus already seen it? JUST SAYING) Then the pastor's wife called the people up to the front who want to stand in Jesus but are leaning on a crutch, sin, that they can't let go. "Come to the front so you can let go of you crutch," she said. The lesbian woman went to the front of the church with some other people, and I was looking like WHY? The pastor's wife surely did give her the longest prayer and started screaming at her EXACTLY what they screamed at me, "You're looking for love in all the wrong places". Then after she threw down her "crutch," she began screaming, "WHO THE SON SETS FREE, IS FREE INDEED." She prayed for the other people, and then came back to the lesbian. And started giving her hugs telling her that it's better now and she can go on and be happy. I was so intrigued by how the lesbian got the most attention from everyone else, how she got the STRONGEST prayer, yet the other people probably were drug dealers. How she got all the attention for her (alleged) "sin," but a second ago they announced, "No sin is greater than the other". I was truly pissed. I was more pissed because this woman was crying and went back to her seat, her friend who brought her began rubbing her back and hugging her, consoling her rather. CONSOLING? Why does she receive consoling? What had she done wrong to have to be consoled? Consolation doesn't come over something simple. (I digress for right now.)
One of the other ladies began yelling in tongues and then screamed, "YES JESUS YES. WHO THE SON SETS FREE IS FREE INDEED." Then the pastor's wife began just sprouting verbiage about Jesus but what she said contradicted her previous actions. She began to say Jesus wants us to be us, and no one else. He wants us to live true to who we are. Jesus wants us to live a life more abundantly. HOW CAN ONE LIVE THAT WAY WHEN THEY ARE ALREADY AND YOU TELL THEM THEY ARE WRONG? I found it funny that they didn't spew as much gay hate while preaching, so they could attract the lady to get "delivered," and now that she is delivered, she can be another check they can count on. Another giver they can count on for the building fund, or whatever else. HOw they want to APPEAL to her, and make her feel like she OWES THEM, or JESUS RATHER ( how they'd put it) for being DELIVERED.
IF YOU CAN'T SEE BY NOW, THAT ANGRY BOY IS BACK AND LOUD.( AND DO I HAVE SOME STUFF TO SAY.)
Then the pastor's wife began talking about the offering, and I'm a tither and I believe in giving Jesus my money as a sacrifice and thanks for what he gives me. But I began to thinks some things. JESUS DOESN'T USE MONEY. Second in biblical times, the people would make sacrifices to God, Yes. they sacrificed their lambs and goats, some did fruits and vegetables, and Abraham almost did his son. (That sounds wrong. LOL) But they didn't give the fruit to the pastor, the OWNER of the edifice where the sacrifice took place. NO, it went to God. But I gave my money, because it's for God, and I have to remember that.
CHURCH ENDED
I went over to my mother to tell her I was leaving for work, and she was trying to get me to stay because she doesn't see me anymore. She kept talking about taking me to a library. I kept telling her she needs to get my father to call Technical Support so the new internet he installed can work, but he doesn't want to pay the $1.95 a minute for the call. NO he rather pay for the whole bill for the internet that is not working. I hugged her and she wished me a good day. All the church members were standing around socializing, and I didn't feel a part of them. I saw them all talking and I didn't want to be with them AT ALL. They truly disgusted me, disgust me, because I added -ed as if it's past tense. I went and walked out and no one greeted me, nor I them. The pastor was on the steps and I walked out and put on my glasses and when I got to the bottom of the steps he said from his conversations, " Oh heyy MArcus," very nonchalantly. I responded but not with anything real within me.
I walked down the street, beginning the few blocks I had to go to catch the bus. I walked pass a group of kids, then I walked pass this man, and he said, "Wow that outfit is hot. But it isn't so hot when a nigga is fucking you up the ass." I didn't know if he was talking to me, but there was no one around so I assumed he was talking to me. I wanted to yell, "I'm a top honey." But he may not have been talking to me ( he was), and if he was I didn't want to give his ignorance a response with information yet to be tested out.(LS)
I then became infuriated at the man and how he judged me on how I was dressed. I was mad at the church and saw a cycle that they make happen. They bash and bash away at gay disciples telling them it's a demon and they can get healed just so simply. They condemn saying that if they don't get Jesus and denounce their sinful desires they're going to hell. The GLB are so tired of being ostacized and made to feel sinful that they try SO HARD to become HOLY, by the standards of MAN, and THEN after they are DELIVERED, or are made to feel so, they go on with their life. But liking the same sex doesn't leave, and when it comes up again they feel so HORRIBLE for SINNING they have to go back and get more JESUS. It's all a viscious cycle to keep gay people in this emotional and spiritual abuse that makes them constantly reprove themselves, and constantly call themself an EVIL SINNER, and constantly try to not look at the same sex. I was just all too through.
I walked down another block and rain began to pour randomly but hard. I stayed under trees feeling only some of the raindrops. I was just so angry because I KNOW that lesbian. I WAS HER at 12. I got in line EVERY DAMN WEEK for SO LONG because Jesus could deliver me. I pinched myself mercilessly everytime I even LOOKED at another man, because if I resisted the devil he would flee from me. I prayed SO DAMN HARD for God to kill me if I couldn't be straight. TO make me straight or kill me dead, because I didn't want to go to hell. I remember the first time I got DELIVERED, I thought it didn't work because I didn't go to the front of the church like the others anbd tell everyone I had a spirit of homosexuality like they said was the onlyway to be truly delivered. I thought that I was this uncontrollable sinner because boys CONTINUED to attract my eyes. I told myself constantly I was going to hell. But all of that pain I CAUSED myself; it wasn't worth a bit of the drama.
I walked down another street, and this lady jumped in front of me. She excused herself, and I didn't take it as that big of a deal. I'm not one to get offended over something as silly as walking in my way. This crowd of black men on their front porch stopped playing whatever card game they were playing as I walked by. They SILENCED and stared at me, or so I thought, my sunglasses are dark so I couldn't see. They said some things about me being a faggot and that they should kick my ass. I walked to the end of the block and there were four little kids dancing. They were all boys had to be around 8 to 10. I waited on the light and they stared at me, then when the light changed I went to cross. "Yo that gay ass nigga look all gay. He looks like shit. That faggot ass pussy." BLAH BLAH BLAH. I thought about how they were so young, but knew so much homophobia and gay hate. I thought about how one of them may be gay and saying those words not to be looked at differently. I know I said some things once to not be looked at that way, but I was told to shut the hell up because I suck dick as a hobby.
As I walked down the street. I just thought. I wasn't really fazed or hurt; I'm used to being called a faggot, being jeered at, having gangs of people taunt at me, and want to brutalize me for no reason at all. Because according to the church I'm not gay because I haven't had sex with a man yet. OH WAIT, but then another church says that if I look at a man. Looks like even the church can't get straight. (Pun it if you want.) I began to think how I hated straight people, not all of them, but the better majority. THEY IRK MY SPIRIT. I began to think how I hated black people, only negroes are that hateful, and it's VERY STRANGE that out of ALL the people that know I'm gay only one is black, and I'll be damned to tell anyone else because they are just a hot MESS. I began to think how I HATE the ghetto, because if I was living in some suburb I wouldn't be looked at strange for wearing clothes that fit or a blazer, tie, button down shirt , some jeans, and nice sneakers.
I thought about how everyone SWEARS I'm rich. They say I act white. Not uppity in a sense, more like sophistcated and refined, but not showy. I remind them that they are saying that black people are then unsophisticated and minute in class. These words are too big, and helps prove my whiteness, so they reduce it to, "niggerish". I got down to the bus stop and had a lot to ponder on. How I not only hated, well it lowered to dislike by then, my race, my community, and another sexual oreintation other than mine. I thought how I don't belong where I am, and AGAIN what am I supposed to be learning from living and experiencing my life. My skin has grown tough against being called a faggot, where are my real suburban parents? But it realy doesn't matter because SOON, OH SO SOON, I'll be gone. Everyone is destined for something, in my opinion, and I KNOW that my destiny is not some ghetto oppresive place.
I was once silent, tranquil, cozy, and calm. Resting in my indifference. Living my life introverted from almost being shot in North Philly for being a, "FUCKING FAGGOT. " (Because one that didn't fuck would be acceptable I guess, but OH WAIT. I AM ONE THAT DOESN'T OR HASN'T had sex.) My tranquility has been interrupted, and I'm livid.
My soul has been vexed and kicked and I'm more determined to leave the ghetto, my BLACK PEOPLE, and the STRAIGHTS. I don't care how whatever I may sound. EVeryone says that the rich get rich and don't give back, well I won't be giving a HOT DAMN to anyone. I got mine on my own, and I'll leave the others to get theirs on their own. Anyone else can be left unsophistcated and minute..........................
"NIGGERISH".
YOu know I wanted to leave the post like this, but I just couldn't. There is no need for me to give nothing back because all I received was HATRED, pure and dark. I'll start a scholarship fund or something, for someone in the ghetto. EVERYONE NEEDS AN ESCAPE FROM OPPRESSION.
The uninterruption of my tranquility will be a ways from here and now, but I will find it.
-Marz
Barely six hours of sleep
Sometimes I don't realize how busy I am. It doesn't come to my recollection as I travel around the city busy. The other day I explained to my mother some of my future coming ups and things happening with my schedule and she allowed me to see them. " Wow, so you're enrolled in three schools, have two jobs and all those extra curriculars." I waved her off telling her how minute one of the schools was, and that the library isn't a real job and some of the extra curriculars didn't matter, but it allowed me to see how I keep myself busy.
(Don't know why I wrote that.)
I didn't get much sleep, I have a few research papers due on Thursday. NExt Tuesday I get my SAT scores, I hope I at least spelled my name right so I can the 200 points. I'm not estimating anything because then it would crash my mind if I scored below what I expect. So right now I'm just hoping I spelled my name right for the 200 points. Or is it 200 points for each section, if it is then I'm hoping for at least a 600 out of 2400. WHATEVER.
I don't have much to say about today. Nothing major is happening. Dunkin Donuts are giving away free ice coffees today. ON my way to work from school I pass two Dunkin Donuts I'm going to get two iced coffees, and then on my way to college I pass another two. My mother banned me from coffee, she was a caffeine addict for a while. But I need something. I'm being bad, I know.
LALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALA
I don't think I've been writing that well here. I don't think I'm a great writer anyway. Maybe a contributor for the free papers that people use to have sex in taxi cabs on, WHO KNOWS. But I think that's why I like blogging there are no standards to uphold in writing. That's why it comes so freely, unlike school papers. SCHOOL. I used to think I was smart, know rather, that knowledge or thought has escaped me. I got a college application in the mail. The school I wanted to go to a while back, Washington University. I've changed one of my majors from chemical engineering to fashion design. (Such a huge change I know.) THey have it, I'm going to apply. Although they won't accept me with my 600, or one that barely has the thought that he can write. WHATEVER.
I plan to double major. SPanish is definite and will never change. I want the second thing to be more right side of the brain. (I think it's the right side that is more analytical and mathematical.) So i'm thinking business. But now I want to be into fashion design. It probably won't end well, I'm not that artistic, and the other kids will dress nicer and be more creative with their clothes. I'll only make something nice enough. I hopoe the college doesn't meet me personally and say, "Why did we accept him?" WHATEVER. I wonder what flavor of ice coffee I'm going to get.
-Marz
(Don't know why I wrote that.)
I didn't get much sleep, I have a few research papers due on Thursday. NExt Tuesday I get my SAT scores, I hope I at least spelled my name right so I can the 200 points. I'm not estimating anything because then it would crash my mind if I scored below what I expect. So right now I'm just hoping I spelled my name right for the 200 points. Or is it 200 points for each section, if it is then I'm hoping for at least a 600 out of 2400. WHATEVER.
I don't have much to say about today. Nothing major is happening. Dunkin Donuts are giving away free ice coffees today. ON my way to work from school I pass two Dunkin Donuts I'm going to get two iced coffees, and then on my way to college I pass another two. My mother banned me from coffee, she was a caffeine addict for a while. But I need something. I'm being bad, I know.
LALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALA
I don't think I've been writing that well here. I don't think I'm a great writer anyway. Maybe a contributor for the free papers that people use to have sex in taxi cabs on, WHO KNOWS. But I think that's why I like blogging there are no standards to uphold in writing. That's why it comes so freely, unlike school papers. SCHOOL. I used to think I was smart, know rather, that knowledge or thought has escaped me. I got a college application in the mail. The school I wanted to go to a while back, Washington University. I've changed one of my majors from chemical engineering to fashion design. (Such a huge change I know.) THey have it, I'm going to apply. Although they won't accept me with my 600, or one that barely has the thought that he can write. WHATEVER.
I plan to double major. SPanish is definite and will never change. I want the second thing to be more right side of the brain. (I think it's the right side that is more analytical and mathematical.) So i'm thinking business. But now I want to be into fashion design. It probably won't end well, I'm not that artistic, and the other kids will dress nicer and be more creative with their clothes. I'll only make something nice enough. I hopoe the college doesn't meet me personally and say, "Why did we accept him?" WHATEVER. I wonder what flavor of ice coffee I'm going to get.
-Marz
Monday, May 22, 2006
blah
I don't have much for today, but I have something for yesterday that will be up soon.
This school is supposed to come up to my shcool today and start shooting us or something. I hope that doesn't happen because I have to go to work.
-Marz
This school is supposed to come up to my shcool today and start shooting us or something. I hope that doesn't happen because I have to go to work.
-Marz
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Midnight Angels
Once my cousin prophesied to me. I didn’t really listen to his prophecies often because he would tell me things that I think were more his words than God’s, but he told me that I would start seeing my angels, and that they would come to me as crazy people. I waved him off thinking he was making it up, but it has strangely been true. That week a few people came to me and they were crazy and they would say something or do something that was strangle too knowing about me.
Friday after school I went to my first job and picked up my check. I called COLOURS and I am horrible on voicemail, so I sent an email to the person whose card I received. I left the library and cashed my check and caught the bus to my second job. I worked there for a few hours and then it was time to leave. Near my job there are four different buses that leave. I can catch three of them. One takes me in my neighborhood, another takes me to another bus I can catch, and the last one takes me to the train. I missed the one that would drop me off in my neighborhood, so I decided to catch the one that would take me to the train.
Now on the train I could’ve went one way which would have been quicker in getting home, or the other way that was longer, but more adventurous. Since my life is mundane and I’m rarely given these possibilities I took the more adventurous way. I got on the train and even decided to get off a few stops before City Hall and walk through Gay Philly near midnight on a Friday.
I got off the train blood pulsing as to what may happen. It was only a few blocks to wehre I had to go but so much could happen in that time. AS I walked up the steps of the train station this bell rung. I jumped startled, then turned and calmed down. I walked to the grimy steps as the wind blew down the steps bringing the scent of urine and body decay. I walked up the steps grasping my umbrella ready to bash someone in the head. I heard this man screaming near the exit of the steps and I turned to walk up the last of the steps. HE continued screaming and yelling with a drunken slur, and I walked towards the exit and the homeless man was screaming at another one about sports. I turned and the city greeted me with cars honking and the busying of Philadelphians. I saw two black men walking together like a couple and I walked to the corner and turned.
I took off my hot sunglasses, because the moon was out, and only gawdy people wear sunglasses at night. I placed them in my upper pocket of my blazer and they looked nice. I walked down the street seeing the difference the streets had with the orange glow of the streetlights cascaded against the different surfaces, the danger the darkness concealed. I walked to the end of the street, and looked down and tried to see if anything was happening at the gay club. ( Yes I was being bad.) I kept thinking the thoughts I usually think when I'm doing something that I shouldn't be doing. I kept thinking about what if I got shot, and my parents would wonder why I was where I was because it was a little bit out of the way of home, and they wouldn't understand why I traveled to 13th street. I prayed a short prayer of protection and continued to walk. I walked pass this hot restaurant with customers eating on the street, as steam rised from the vents. I walked pass this little store that sold nice clothes. I went in there once and there lotion smelled a hot mess. (Like burnt rubber.) I then saw this gang of people standing down a street, I wanted to go down, but decided not to.
I finally got to 13th street station, doing this fake, probably horrible, runway walk. I walked pass all the people sitting on the chairs to show them how non fierce they were and I was. (My outfit was nice.) (Alright I wasn't that hype with it. But I did walk kind of hype.) I sat down and started thinking about words and writing, and things of that nature. Then I saw these two men walking together, one wqas older and dressed like a grandpop. The other was younger but still probably in his late fourties and wearing a blue collar oufit. ( He looked like a painter.) I made eye contact with them, but not staring, just a glance. The man in the blue collar outfit came and sat next to me, and he was crazy.
He began saying he didn't want money. He started talking about things and giving me advice. He was saying that I should be me, because no one can judge me except for me. That people make the world go round and we have to work together. I was very scared and kept a firm grasp on my umbrella because I might have to bash him. But his eyes they were so... something. they had red like he was drunk or had been swimming in a chlorine filled pool but the color was this gray hazel color. He began talking about how people do this and that to gayt people. He started syaing he knows lots of gay people that are just as good if not better than straight people. HE knows big times lawyers who he's seen in drag. Then he started screaming, " You are wonderful just as your are, even though you're gay. HELL GAY PEOPLE RULE THE WORLD. DO you believe it> THEY DO. GAY PEOPLE COULD RULE THE WORLD AND THEY DO." He then started gifving me a vibes like he was trying to get some, because he said something about some ass, or getting some ass. But then he started talking to this woman abvout how she was degrading herself by wearing tight clothes and since her clothes were so tight and hr ass was so fat he wanted to take her home. He said some other things about how we're al down here waiting for the a certain trolley ( he said the exact one I was getting on). The trolley came and he didn't get on, but he said he'll see me again. I thought how he wouldn't. I don't think he was an angel, and my cousin could still just be saying random things. But I thought it was nice enough to record here in my teenage years.
-Marz
Friday after school I went to my first job and picked up my check. I called COLOURS and I am horrible on voicemail, so I sent an email to the person whose card I received. I left the library and cashed my check and caught the bus to my second job. I worked there for a few hours and then it was time to leave. Near my job there are four different buses that leave. I can catch three of them. One takes me in my neighborhood, another takes me to another bus I can catch, and the last one takes me to the train. I missed the one that would drop me off in my neighborhood, so I decided to catch the one that would take me to the train.
Now on the train I could’ve went one way which would have been quicker in getting home, or the other way that was longer, but more adventurous. Since my life is mundane and I’m rarely given these possibilities I took the more adventurous way. I got on the train and even decided to get off a few stops before City Hall and walk through Gay Philly near midnight on a Friday.
I got off the train blood pulsing as to what may happen. It was only a few blocks to wehre I had to go but so much could happen in that time. AS I walked up the steps of the train station this bell rung. I jumped startled, then turned and calmed down. I walked to the grimy steps as the wind blew down the steps bringing the scent of urine and body decay. I walked up the steps grasping my umbrella ready to bash someone in the head. I heard this man screaming near the exit of the steps and I turned to walk up the last of the steps. HE continued screaming and yelling with a drunken slur, and I walked towards the exit and the homeless man was screaming at another one about sports. I turned and the city greeted me with cars honking and the busying of Philadelphians. I saw two black men walking together like a couple and I walked to the corner and turned.
I took off my hot sunglasses, because the moon was out, and only gawdy people wear sunglasses at night. I placed them in my upper pocket of my blazer and they looked nice. I walked down the street seeing the difference the streets had with the orange glow of the streetlights cascaded against the different surfaces, the danger the darkness concealed. I walked to the end of the street, and looked down and tried to see if anything was happening at the gay club. ( Yes I was being bad.) I kept thinking the thoughts I usually think when I'm doing something that I shouldn't be doing. I kept thinking about what if I got shot, and my parents would wonder why I was where I was because it was a little bit out of the way of home, and they wouldn't understand why I traveled to 13th street. I prayed a short prayer of protection and continued to walk. I walked pass this hot restaurant with customers eating on the street, as steam rised from the vents. I walked pass this little store that sold nice clothes. I went in there once and there lotion smelled a hot mess. (Like burnt rubber.) I then saw this gang of people standing down a street, I wanted to go down, but decided not to.
I finally got to 13th street station, doing this fake, probably horrible, runway walk. I walked pass all the people sitting on the chairs to show them how non fierce they were and I was. (My outfit was nice.) (Alright I wasn't that hype with it. But I did walk kind of hype.) I sat down and started thinking about words and writing, and things of that nature. Then I saw these two men walking together, one wqas older and dressed like a grandpop. The other was younger but still probably in his late fourties and wearing a blue collar oufit. ( He looked like a painter.) I made eye contact with them, but not staring, just a glance. The man in the blue collar outfit came and sat next to me, and he was crazy.
He began saying he didn't want money. He started talking about things and giving me advice. He was saying that I should be me, because no one can judge me except for me. That people make the world go round and we have to work together. I was very scared and kept a firm grasp on my umbrella because I might have to bash him. But his eyes they were so... something. they had red like he was drunk or had been swimming in a chlorine filled pool but the color was this gray hazel color. He began talking about how people do this and that to gayt people. He started syaing he knows lots of gay people that are just as good if not better than straight people. HE knows big times lawyers who he's seen in drag. Then he started screaming, " You are wonderful just as your are, even though you're gay. HELL GAY PEOPLE RULE THE WORLD. DO you believe it> THEY DO. GAY PEOPLE COULD RULE THE WORLD AND THEY DO." He then started gifving me a vibes like he was trying to get some, because he said something about some ass, or getting some ass. But then he started talking to this woman abvout how she was degrading herself by wearing tight clothes and since her clothes were so tight and hr ass was so fat he wanted to take her home. He said some other things about how we're al down here waiting for the a certain trolley ( he said the exact one I was getting on). The trolley came and he didn't get on, but he said he'll see me again. I thought how he wouldn't. I don't think he was an angel, and my cousin could still just be saying random things. But I thought it was nice enough to record here in my teenage years.
-Marz
Friday, May 19, 2006
GOING THROUGH CHANGES
SOng: Changes Kelly Osbourne featuring Ozzy Osbourne "I feel unhappy I am so sad I lost the best friend That I've ever had"
Lately I've been going through changes, maturing. I can feel it happening mentally in the way I'm perceiving things and the new understanding I'm getting on certain things. Physically my body has reached this new awkward stage and my neck is really long, and I'm sort of skinny now in my upper body, but my chest and things are slowly coming in. ( Spring has caused me to blossom. I love my flowers. LOL) I've been going through at school wanting to be at a good school because I want to be challenged in college. I want to be somewhere that will look good to future businesses. I don't know what I want to do with my life. Everyone keeps asking me. Everyone keeps suggesting I be a damn writer/author/journalist. I roll my eyes at that. Spiritually, I've been neghlecting everything. I didn't want the exorcism to affect me. I didn't want to act like it had an impression on me. I wanted to go back and be ME. But, even though I knew it was going to happen and I'm all right, it was sort of traumatic, and did not go well with the events of that week. ( My mother being hospitalized, etc.) I did affect me, and no matter if I acknowledge it or not, the effect is still going to be there in me. I get tired of having resulting effects from traumatizing events in my life. I mean I've been through SO MUCH, and I get mad when I knowingly, or unknowingly respond to these traumatizing events. I've withdrawed so far into me somewhat. I've been trying to work on my socialness, and I see all these people who are how I was before events like me almost getting shot in North Philly or whatever, and I want to be that again. I don't like how I'm more soft-spoken now, although well spoken, they are still soft. There has been this melancholy permeating me and I just don't know....
I've reached this new state of being and I feel really weird. I haven't felt like writing lately, and my words are getting harder and harder to grasp. Usually they just come, but they've been fading away. I don't feel as bright as I used to feel. I don't feel as ANYTHING as I used to feel. I just feel like I'm changing into...something, someone else who I don't like.
The best friend that I lost is ME. Going through life I've had plenty of people who have said they are and will be my best friend forever, and they aren't here now in my life. So in that, I sort of took that no one can truly be a good everlasting friend except for you, and god. Because in the end it's only you and God, and maybe your momma and grandmomma, SOMETIMES your daddy. But basically it's you and God, and since I've sort of been going this place where I feel blasphemous, and I don't want to pray or read the bible, and I do it for he fact that I may die today and want to have repented. But then who's left???ME. And I don't like who my best friend has become. Because he, I, has changed, and I don't like the change that he, I, has made and although I know it's like maturing, growing into who I'm destined to be. I don't like, like the person I'm growing into.
I mean, HAS ANYONE ELSE NOTICED THE CHANGE? Has anyone else seen that I'm not as ferocious here anymore? That my writing has become more BLAH. CAN ANYONE SEE THIS DAMN CHANGE I'M GOING THROUGH?
MAturing is a natural process of life, many don't go through it. Hence the forty year older still selling drugs. But I feel like that every stage of maturing I go through I become LESS....personable. LESS humanlike. (I probably sound crazy.) But I haven't been being sane for a while. I know that eventually I'll stop growing. Eventually, I wont look at the bible and see the word version and thow it away and want to cry. I know that eventually my neck will, hopefully, have a normal proportion to my body. MEntally I'll bring myself together. I need to scream and cry.
I'm going through changes, and I have a fear of who I'll change into.
What do you do when you're naturally changing into someone who you don't like, and you can't stop it?
P.S. My self revelation will be up soon. (Hopefully)
-Marz
Lately I've been going through changes, maturing. I can feel it happening mentally in the way I'm perceiving things and the new understanding I'm getting on certain things. Physically my body has reached this new awkward stage and my neck is really long, and I'm sort of skinny now in my upper body, but my chest and things are slowly coming in. ( Spring has caused me to blossom. I love my flowers. LOL) I've been going through at school wanting to be at a good school because I want to be challenged in college. I want to be somewhere that will look good to future businesses. I don't know what I want to do with my life. Everyone keeps asking me. Everyone keeps suggesting I be a damn writer/author/journalist. I roll my eyes at that. Spiritually, I've been neghlecting everything. I didn't want the exorcism to affect me. I didn't want to act like it had an impression on me. I wanted to go back and be ME. But, even though I knew it was going to happen and I'm all right, it was sort of traumatic, and did not go well with the events of that week. ( My mother being hospitalized, etc.) I did affect me, and no matter if I acknowledge it or not, the effect is still going to be there in me. I get tired of having resulting effects from traumatizing events in my life. I mean I've been through SO MUCH, and I get mad when I knowingly, or unknowingly respond to these traumatizing events. I've withdrawed so far into me somewhat. I've been trying to work on my socialness, and I see all these people who are how I was before events like me almost getting shot in North Philly or whatever, and I want to be that again. I don't like how I'm more soft-spoken now, although well spoken, they are still soft. There has been this melancholy permeating me and I just don't know....
I've reached this new state of being and I feel really weird. I haven't felt like writing lately, and my words are getting harder and harder to grasp. Usually they just come, but they've been fading away. I don't feel as bright as I used to feel. I don't feel as ANYTHING as I used to feel. I just feel like I'm changing into...something, someone else who I don't like.
The best friend that I lost is ME. Going through life I've had plenty of people who have said they are and will be my best friend forever, and they aren't here now in my life. So in that, I sort of took that no one can truly be a good everlasting friend except for you, and god. Because in the end it's only you and God, and maybe your momma and grandmomma, SOMETIMES your daddy. But basically it's you and God, and since I've sort of been going this place where I feel blasphemous, and I don't want to pray or read the bible, and I do it for he fact that I may die today and want to have repented. But then who's left???ME. And I don't like who my best friend has become. Because he, I, has changed, and I don't like the change that he, I, has made and although I know it's like maturing, growing into who I'm destined to be. I don't like, like the person I'm growing into.
I mean, HAS ANYONE ELSE NOTICED THE CHANGE? Has anyone else seen that I'm not as ferocious here anymore? That my writing has become more BLAH. CAN ANYONE SEE THIS DAMN CHANGE I'M GOING THROUGH?
MAturing is a natural process of life, many don't go through it. Hence the forty year older still selling drugs. But I feel like that every stage of maturing I go through I become LESS....personable. LESS humanlike. (I probably sound crazy.) But I haven't been being sane for a while. I know that eventually I'll stop growing. Eventually, I wont look at the bible and see the word version and thow it away and want to cry. I know that eventually my neck will, hopefully, have a normal proportion to my body. MEntally I'll bring myself together. I need to scream and cry.
I'm going through changes, and I have a fear of who I'll change into.
What do you do when you're naturally changing into someone who you don't like, and you can't stop it?
P.S. My self revelation will be up soon. (Hopefully)
-Marz
Thursday, May 18, 2006
BLAH
Today is like so weird, and I'm not feeling it. I keep checking my planner and crossing things off. But I feel like there is something I'm supposed to do that I haven't done that one of my teachers will want for a grade.
I wanted Joanie to win and I don't think Danielle's Covergirl picture was all that hot.
CLay is in town tonight at the place I was talking about yesterday and I can't go because I have class. (Lip poking out. )
WHATEVER.
I wanted Joanie to win and I don't think Danielle's Covergirl picture was all that hot.
CLay is in town tonight at the place I was talking about yesterday and I can't go because I have class. (Lip poking out. )
WHATEVER.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
YOUTH EMPOWERMENT SUMMIT 2006
Today was the 7th annual youth Empowerment summit, a meeting of teenagers from all across the city that I played a role in planning. This is my third year attending, and seocnd year planning, since the first year I wasn't employed by the library.
I was going to arrive at 7, so I could receive that extra hour of pay. But I didn't feel like getting out of the house on time. I have this issue that i realized that I don't start getting a move on until 6:30, and I could be ready to leave the house I always end up leaving at 7. I got to The Central Library at 7:50, and walked in the backdoor and got my name tag and things. I went in and everyone was greeting each other with grunts because it was early. I got my other things and then went into the pep rally, they tried to hype all the teenagers up for the summit, but I wasn't feeling it until i got some food. I normally eat Raisin Bran and a grapefruit for breakfast, but I went wild. I had two bagels, a bowl of cereal, a quart of orange juice (by myself), water, yogurt, and something else I can't remember what it was. I sat in the middle of the room, literally, eating my whole meal, and as usual everyone else spent their time trying to loook cute eating a fruit salad. ( I would've got one but I don't like melons, and cantalopes and things like that.)
After the pep rall all the kids were allowed in. I saw some people from my school but not the people I invited so I was a bit mad about that, because I didn't have anyone to be with. My cousin HOLY works at the library and we haven't said one word to each other since being there, even after bumping into each other and sitting at the same table. It's been weird and I don't understanbd it. But I wrote more about that in Saturday's post which I still need to finish. I went into the auditorium where all the teens gathered together, and the spokesman, and coordinator talked, then the author Solomon Jones talked. He said this poem that was good, and then he started talking about his life. He was homeless and addicted to drugs, and he pulled himself up by himself and published his books, and he's a bestseller. I was like moved. But he was one of those black men who are alwaystrying to spread the message to younger black males that they were there on the block or know about the block and it dind't get them anywhere, dont' sell drugs, BLAH BLAH BLAH. That's nice and all, but I'M NOT GOING TO BE ON A CORNER. ( and if I am I'm NOT SELLING DRUGS.) But he inspired me to like write more, because as he talked about the freedom and everything else he received from writing I was like, "OH HELL YES." I took a picture with him, and I must say he is a VERY sexy man.
After that the teens went onto their first training, but I had to work. I was in the information fair committee, and during lunch we had an info fair that had colleges, after school programs, military, etc. Trying to recruit the students or offer them a positive event after school of high school graduation. I had to greet the visitors, and bring their stuff in. I was mad because I spent to much time rallying for the ATTIC to come, and they didn't show up. But some other people did so it was alright. I went to the info fair, and none of the colleges were where I want to go, so i took some pictures with this sailor. ( LOL the miltary was there.) Then lunch came, I got a ham sandwich a few things of yogurt tubes, some ginger ale, and some water. There was this cute boy in this outfit. I loved his glasses, and I have some new sunglasses and they are FIRE. I was then rushed into this room where one of the popular radio stations were hosting rap battles, and free giveaways. I got to jump on tables and scream and shout and I was heard on the radio, along with twenty other screaming teens. It was fun.
I talked to the sexual health group I wanted to intern with, and they told me the information needed for applying as a volunteer or intern. But then the group across the room from them were the ones that had condoms. When I told my schoolfriends that they needed some condoms I began talking to the condom people and they are like the other ex educational group, except they cater more to gay people of color, and are sort of more HIV interested. So I got their information to. Now I'm not one who is all discriminatory and will pick COLORS over CHOICE because they are involved with gay black teens, and CHOICE isn't, because I don't like how now it's this big disciminatory thing between people of color and non color in the community; but as I looked through the brochure for COLORS, they had more of the things that I'm always like, " well damn I wish I could go there." Like they ahd ball stuff and just so much more, and I could interact with my peers and be all FLYY. I also realized that that is probably why I see that gang of gay black boys on Thursdays when I'm downtown because they have this youth talk discussion, but whatever. I've sort of verbally contracted myself with CHOICE and I don't want to look like flake, but I mean I would LOVE to be around othery gay teens, and I mean if I have to be frank for a second, there are no Caucasian people in my neighborhood. Although many have been running through the hood and stopping and taking pictures like it's a documentary of Africa or something. I'M NOT KIDDING. I NEED HELP. SOMEONE HELP ME. READ THEIR WEBSITES AND TELL ME WHERE I SHOULD CHOOSE CHOICE OR COLORS?
IN the afternoon I got to go to the Poetry Slam. There is something about when I'm around a lot of writers and artists. I get this feeling like I want to be artistic. Because I don't feel as though I'm artistic or creative. When they were talking these poems got planted in my SOUL, like I screamed in my head, "I NEED SOME PAPER RIGHT NOW." My poetry is average, and my writing is a bit above average, in my opinion of course. I got this really strong feeling that I usually get around TRUE ARTISTS, as I term them mentally, like how I want to be an artist one day, and be creative. MAybe one day I shall be. ( HAd to get biblical real quick.)
During the question part of the poerty slam I realized another thing I'm always screaming about. I'M NO CULTURED ENOUGH. I want to be so cultured and filled with the arts and things. But I'm not. A LOT of it comes from my parents and how they don't want me to listen to certain things because they are of the devil, certain movies are forbidden, and the saem goes for books. One of the poets said that his inspiration was this man named, "Gil scott harren" ( I don't know how nto spell his name.) then he said the statement ALL THE older people say, " Yall youngbucks don't know ab out that."
WARNING RANT COMING:
I GET SO DAMN MAD, WHEN ALL THE OLD PEOPLE. YES OLD PEOPLE. I GET TIRED OF HAVING TO BABY SOMEONE'S DAMN CONSCIOUS BECAUSE THEY WANT TO BE ALL, "WOE IS ME, THE CHANCES I'LL BREAK MY HIP IS GETTING HIGHER.' ADN TELL THEM THEY AREN'T OLD JUST GETTING OLDER, IF THEY CAN'T GET IT THEN DAMNIT. ANYWAYS, THESE OLD PEOPLE ALWAYS WANT TO CRITICIZE HOW MY GENERATION DOESN'T HAVE GOOD MOVIES, MUSIC, AND CUKTURE, BUT YET THEY WANT TO KEEP ALL OF THE STUFF THEY'VE BEEN EXPOSED TO TRAPPED IN THEIR DAMN HEAD. HOW THE HELL ARE YOU GOING TO TELL ME I DON'T LISTEN TO GOOD MUSIC THEN NOT SUGGEST PEOPLE. WHY THE HELL ARE YOU SAYING ANYTHING. THEY GET ON MY DAMN NERVES. YOU WANT CHILDREN TO LISTEN TO QUALITY MUSIC, GIVE US SOME. YOU WANT US TO READ QUALITY BOOKS, GIVE US SOME. I WISH SOMEONE WOULD TAKE ME ASIDE AND TEACH ME ABOUT OLD SCHOOL HIP HOP, BUT I'M GOING TO HAVE TO DO IT ON MY OWN. SO DAMN THE OLD PEOPLE WHO WANT TO BE STINGY, I HOPE THE GOOD MUSIC ROTS IN YOUR BRAINS.
Rant ended.
After watching the performances I realized AGAIN that I need more culture in my life. I need to experience more art. I need to read more books. I need to see more movies that influence me. I need to listen to quality music. JILL SCOTT AND GOSPEL IS NOT GETTING IT. I feel so bad every time I have to sneak in a damn John COltrane cd or a billie Holiday cd, because they are banned in my house and I just want to hear something that has some other meaning then Jesus being screamed 5,00 times, and if it's yelle donly 4,999 tmes then it isn't holy enough. But my mother did say she wouldn't mind hearing the new India Arie cd. NOT BUYING, but listening to a track or two. I WILL HAVE CULTURE. I talked to KIKI and she has culture and knows about good music and such, so she said she's going to teach me. She is going to make a list of 5 movies, books, and albums to isten to. I WANT ALL OF YOU READERS SUUGGEST SOME STUFF TO. ( HMPh want me to be uncultued. I'll stab someone and smear their blood on a wall and call in blood birck red and it will sell millions. I digress.) So I rook Black Boy from the library and I still have so many other books to finish reading.
I left the summit empty handed from the raffle that they gave out items such as the an Ipod Shuffle, and an Xbox 360. But I recieved a book by SOlom Jones, and a book from Diane Mckinney-Whetstone, whom I LOVE, and my spirit has been exposed and rejuvenated to become cultured. Because, " the revolution will not be televised", ( alright that was SO HYPE and MELODRAMATIC. LOL)
I went to work, and then came home. I HAVE A KEY NOW. It only took six months. I've been telling my parents to just take my allowance and buy one but they wanted me to clean my room, to earn the allowance to buy the lock myself. I came home and my family was so surprised to see my at 7, they all kept saying I was home early, and they were surprised. I don't get it. My new schedule allows me to be home earlier on wednesdays GET OVER IT. When my mother got home form being at the hospital with my bi-polar aunt whose blood iron level got really low. I started telling her AGAIN about how I need culture and I'm not artistic and I'm uncreative. ( I wasn't showing that well how I just made up tihs dramatic spiel out the sky. " mom I'm unclutured and you don't want me to live and be free. I fgeel like I'm trapped in this box, this BIG WHITE BOX and I need color and you want to restrict the paint form me. I WON'T HAVE IT. I NEED MORE LITERATURE, MOVIES, MUSIC. I will be cultured". I said some more but I don't want to get there. I talked to her about my summer schedule which will include College classes, work, and volunteering at either or both Sex ed groups. OMG when I told her about COLORS. ( I dind't mention that they catered more to gay people.) She wanted ore information then she said, trying to be politcally coorect, " will you have to counsel people that have AIDs living the homosexual...lifestyle." ( You have to hear the way she says homosexual, I really want to hit her in the head with something. The SEX has like the strongest accent on it.) I told her that one that would counsel someone with AIDS would need a psychology degree, which I don't have, yet. (LOL) ANd that I'd just be teaching people to have safe sex, because people just don't get it.
ALSO, I got some omre condoms. I never like having them because it's like I'm saying to the universe I want something to happen. And I don't. I really don't. I'm not lying. WHATEVER. But they ar ein my room where I keep the gay fiction novels, when I have them, and Billie Holiday cd, when I have her. But these are different then the ones from last year and I'm SO INTRIGUEd. SO I'm going to expirement with the items like I did last year. Because one of the condoms is mint flavored and I'm like, " HMMMM What does it taste like?" And like I want to like just open it and lick the condom. But.....I don't know. WHO DOES THAT? I keep thinking about what if I saw someone on the bus just sucking on a condom saying, " HMM Gurl this strawberry flavored Trojan is good, pass me another one." I mean...I could find someone and us eit on them. But HELL NO. Also the other kind is tuxedo flare condoms, and I'm intrigued about those like, what is this flare, what is it for. Gyea I'm going to see tonight, just open hem and look, expirement. PRACTICE. ( that's what I did last year.) And then since COLORS caters to GLBT, they had lubricant, and I've never had lubraicant. I've seen it in stores, and although I have like a few condoms in my room, hidden well of course. I'm SO INTRIGUED by the lubricant. It's not name brand, but it's water based. I'm thinking, "hMMM it says it's pallat pleasing, wheta does it taste like? How does it work? how hot will it really get on my finger?" Alright so tonight I might end up licking a mint flavoed condom after putting a tuxedo condom on a teddy bear, and putting a LITTLE bit of lubricant on my finger seeing what happens and then licking a LITTLE.
So intrigued.
-Marz
I was going to arrive at 7, so I could receive that extra hour of pay. But I didn't feel like getting out of the house on time. I have this issue that i realized that I don't start getting a move on until 6:30, and I could be ready to leave the house I always end up leaving at 7. I got to The Central Library at 7:50, and walked in the backdoor and got my name tag and things. I went in and everyone was greeting each other with grunts because it was early. I got my other things and then went into the pep rally, they tried to hype all the teenagers up for the summit, but I wasn't feeling it until i got some food. I normally eat Raisin Bran and a grapefruit for breakfast, but I went wild. I had two bagels, a bowl of cereal, a quart of orange juice (by myself), water, yogurt, and something else I can't remember what it was. I sat in the middle of the room, literally, eating my whole meal, and as usual everyone else spent their time trying to loook cute eating a fruit salad. ( I would've got one but I don't like melons, and cantalopes and things like that.)
After the pep rall all the kids were allowed in. I saw some people from my school but not the people I invited so I was a bit mad about that, because I didn't have anyone to be with. My cousin HOLY works at the library and we haven't said one word to each other since being there, even after bumping into each other and sitting at the same table. It's been weird and I don't understanbd it. But I wrote more about that in Saturday's post which I still need to finish. I went into the auditorium where all the teens gathered together, and the spokesman, and coordinator talked, then the author Solomon Jones talked. He said this poem that was good, and then he started talking about his life. He was homeless and addicted to drugs, and he pulled himself up by himself and published his books, and he's a bestseller. I was like moved. But he was one of those black men who are alwaystrying to spread the message to younger black males that they were there on the block or know about the block and it dind't get them anywhere, dont' sell drugs, BLAH BLAH BLAH. That's nice and all, but I'M NOT GOING TO BE ON A CORNER. ( and if I am I'm NOT SELLING DRUGS.) But he inspired me to like write more, because as he talked about the freedom and everything else he received from writing I was like, "OH HELL YES." I took a picture with him, and I must say he is a VERY sexy man.
After that the teens went onto their first training, but I had to work. I was in the information fair committee, and during lunch we had an info fair that had colleges, after school programs, military, etc. Trying to recruit the students or offer them a positive event after school of high school graduation. I had to greet the visitors, and bring their stuff in. I was mad because I spent to much time rallying for the ATTIC to come, and they didn't show up. But some other people did so it was alright. I went to the info fair, and none of the colleges were where I want to go, so i took some pictures with this sailor. ( LOL the miltary was there.) Then lunch came, I got a ham sandwich a few things of yogurt tubes, some ginger ale, and some water. There was this cute boy in this outfit. I loved his glasses, and I have some new sunglasses and they are FIRE. I was then rushed into this room where one of the popular radio stations were hosting rap battles, and free giveaways. I got to jump on tables and scream and shout and I was heard on the radio, along with twenty other screaming teens. It was fun.
I talked to the sexual health group I wanted to intern with, and they told me the information needed for applying as a volunteer or intern. But then the group across the room from them were the ones that had condoms. When I told my schoolfriends that they needed some condoms I began talking to the condom people and they are like the other ex educational group, except they cater more to gay people of color, and are sort of more HIV interested. So I got their information to. Now I'm not one who is all discriminatory and will pick COLORS over CHOICE because they are involved with gay black teens, and CHOICE isn't, because I don't like how now it's this big disciminatory thing between people of color and non color in the community; but as I looked through the brochure for COLORS, they had more of the things that I'm always like, " well damn I wish I could go there." Like they ahd ball stuff and just so much more, and I could interact with my peers and be all FLYY. I also realized that that is probably why I see that gang of gay black boys on Thursdays when I'm downtown because they have this youth talk discussion, but whatever. I've sort of verbally contracted myself with CHOICE and I don't want to look like flake, but I mean I would LOVE to be around othery gay teens, and I mean if I have to be frank for a second, there are no Caucasian people in my neighborhood. Although many have been running through the hood and stopping and taking pictures like it's a documentary of Africa or something. I'M NOT KIDDING. I NEED HELP. SOMEONE HELP ME. READ THEIR WEBSITES AND TELL ME WHERE I SHOULD CHOOSE CHOICE OR COLORS?
IN the afternoon I got to go to the Poetry Slam. There is something about when I'm around a lot of writers and artists. I get this feeling like I want to be artistic. Because I don't feel as though I'm artistic or creative. When they were talking these poems got planted in my SOUL, like I screamed in my head, "I NEED SOME PAPER RIGHT NOW." My poetry is average, and my writing is a bit above average, in my opinion of course. I got this really strong feeling that I usually get around TRUE ARTISTS, as I term them mentally, like how I want to be an artist one day, and be creative. MAybe one day I shall be. ( HAd to get biblical real quick.)
During the question part of the poerty slam I realized another thing I'm always screaming about. I'M NO CULTURED ENOUGH. I want to be so cultured and filled with the arts and things. But I'm not. A LOT of it comes from my parents and how they don't want me to listen to certain things because they are of the devil, certain movies are forbidden, and the saem goes for books. One of the poets said that his inspiration was this man named, "Gil scott harren" ( I don't know how nto spell his name.) then he said the statement ALL THE older people say, " Yall youngbucks don't know ab out that."
WARNING RANT COMING:
I GET SO DAMN MAD, WHEN ALL THE OLD PEOPLE. YES OLD PEOPLE. I GET TIRED OF HAVING TO BABY SOMEONE'S DAMN CONSCIOUS BECAUSE THEY WANT TO BE ALL, "WOE IS ME, THE CHANCES I'LL BREAK MY HIP IS GETTING HIGHER.' ADN TELL THEM THEY AREN'T OLD JUST GETTING OLDER, IF THEY CAN'T GET IT THEN DAMNIT. ANYWAYS, THESE OLD PEOPLE ALWAYS WANT TO CRITICIZE HOW MY GENERATION DOESN'T HAVE GOOD MOVIES, MUSIC, AND CUKTURE, BUT YET THEY WANT TO KEEP ALL OF THE STUFF THEY'VE BEEN EXPOSED TO TRAPPED IN THEIR DAMN HEAD. HOW THE HELL ARE YOU GOING TO TELL ME I DON'T LISTEN TO GOOD MUSIC THEN NOT SUGGEST PEOPLE. WHY THE HELL ARE YOU SAYING ANYTHING. THEY GET ON MY DAMN NERVES. YOU WANT CHILDREN TO LISTEN TO QUALITY MUSIC, GIVE US SOME. YOU WANT US TO READ QUALITY BOOKS, GIVE US SOME. I WISH SOMEONE WOULD TAKE ME ASIDE AND TEACH ME ABOUT OLD SCHOOL HIP HOP, BUT I'M GOING TO HAVE TO DO IT ON MY OWN. SO DAMN THE OLD PEOPLE WHO WANT TO BE STINGY, I HOPE THE GOOD MUSIC ROTS IN YOUR BRAINS.
Rant ended.
After watching the performances I realized AGAIN that I need more culture in my life. I need to experience more art. I need to read more books. I need to see more movies that influence me. I need to listen to quality music. JILL SCOTT AND GOSPEL IS NOT GETTING IT. I feel so bad every time I have to sneak in a damn John COltrane cd or a billie Holiday cd, because they are banned in my house and I just want to hear something that has some other meaning then Jesus being screamed 5,00 times, and if it's yelle donly 4,999 tmes then it isn't holy enough. But my mother did say she wouldn't mind hearing the new India Arie cd. NOT BUYING, but listening to a track or two. I WILL HAVE CULTURE. I talked to KIKI and she has culture and knows about good music and such, so she said she's going to teach me. She is going to make a list of 5 movies, books, and albums to isten to. I WANT ALL OF YOU READERS SUUGGEST SOME STUFF TO. ( HMPh want me to be uncultued. I'll stab someone and smear their blood on a wall and call in blood birck red and it will sell millions. I digress.) So I rook Black Boy from the library and I still have so many other books to finish reading.
I left the summit empty handed from the raffle that they gave out items such as the an Ipod Shuffle, and an Xbox 360. But I recieved a book by SOlom Jones, and a book from Diane Mckinney-Whetstone, whom I LOVE, and my spirit has been exposed and rejuvenated to become cultured. Because, " the revolution will not be televised", ( alright that was SO HYPE and MELODRAMATIC. LOL)
I went to work, and then came home. I HAVE A KEY NOW. It only took six months. I've been telling my parents to just take my allowance and buy one but they wanted me to clean my room, to earn the allowance to buy the lock myself. I came home and my family was so surprised to see my at 7, they all kept saying I was home early, and they were surprised. I don't get it. My new schedule allows me to be home earlier on wednesdays GET OVER IT. When my mother got home form being at the hospital with my bi-polar aunt whose blood iron level got really low. I started telling her AGAIN about how I need culture and I'm not artistic and I'm uncreative. ( I wasn't showing that well how I just made up tihs dramatic spiel out the sky. " mom I'm unclutured and you don't want me to live and be free. I fgeel like I'm trapped in this box, this BIG WHITE BOX and I need color and you want to restrict the paint form me. I WON'T HAVE IT. I NEED MORE LITERATURE, MOVIES, MUSIC. I will be cultured". I said some more but I don't want to get there. I talked to her about my summer schedule which will include College classes, work, and volunteering at either or both Sex ed groups. OMG when I told her about COLORS. ( I dind't mention that they catered more to gay people.) She wanted ore information then she said, trying to be politcally coorect, " will you have to counsel people that have AIDs living the homosexual...lifestyle." ( You have to hear the way she says homosexual, I really want to hit her in the head with something. The SEX has like the strongest accent on it.) I told her that one that would counsel someone with AIDS would need a psychology degree, which I don't have, yet. (LOL) ANd that I'd just be teaching people to have safe sex, because people just don't get it.
ALSO, I got some omre condoms. I never like having them because it's like I'm saying to the universe I want something to happen. And I don't. I really don't. I'm not lying. WHATEVER. But they ar ein my room where I keep the gay fiction novels, when I have them, and Billie Holiday cd, when I have her. But these are different then the ones from last year and I'm SO INTRIGUEd. SO I'm going to expirement with the items like I did last year. Because one of the condoms is mint flavored and I'm like, " HMMMM What does it taste like?" And like I want to like just open it and lick the condom. But.....I don't know. WHO DOES THAT? I keep thinking about what if I saw someone on the bus just sucking on a condom saying, " HMM Gurl this strawberry flavored Trojan is good, pass me another one." I mean...I could find someone and us eit on them. But HELL NO. Also the other kind is tuxedo flare condoms, and I'm intrigued about those like, what is this flare, what is it for. Gyea I'm going to see tonight, just open hem and look, expirement. PRACTICE. ( that's what I did last year.) And then since COLORS caters to GLBT, they had lubricant, and I've never had lubraicant. I've seen it in stores, and although I have like a few condoms in my room, hidden well of course. I'm SO INTRIGUED by the lubricant. It's not name brand, but it's water based. I'm thinking, "hMMM it says it's pallat pleasing, wheta does it taste like? How does it work? how hot will it really get on my finger?" Alright so tonight I might end up licking a mint flavoed condom after putting a tuxedo condom on a teddy bear, and putting a LITTLE bit of lubricant on my finger seeing what happens and then licking a LITTLE.
So intrigued.
-Marz
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
GOD KNOWS
Yesterday was weird. It seemed as the weather changed my mood changed. When it rained I was happy. But when it was sunny I was sad. It was very weird. this lady stopped me on the street, she told me that the top killer of children in other countries is dirty water. She wanted me to donate to her charity, but I was too young. She told me I didn't look my age. HOW SHOPULD A 16 YEAR OLDER LOOK? Maybe someone can tell me. I guess I don't look like one. But that's because people are stuck to their standards of what youth shpould look like. Charles said I looked older than him in my high school portraits. ( OOPs now people mad because I showed him my pictures. I'll have something up soon enough, but it had all my school information and he's trapped in Texas by national guards so he won't be able to come and kill me. LOL)
So I got myself together yesterday. I felt like crying, and I could feel the tears interanlly. But I realized I don't have time to cry. I found it kind of, sad, that I dind't have enough time to express an emotion. But I didn't. I got my grade for Elementary Functions and I have a big ole' F. But I got it together. I started Elementary Functions at college last night, and it's easier than my high school class. ( Go figure.) And I'm going to have that college class replace the grade that I'm getting in high school, and I'll also get AP credit. SO if I can get an A in this college class along with the AP weight, then everything will work out. Myt GA will go up, and I can go to college. I know I'll go to college but I really feel Cornell is the one for me. But I realized that one I usually feel that way when I find my NEW FAVORITE COLLEGE THAT I MUST ATTEND. I mean, wasn't I like that a few months ago with NYU. WHO KNOWS. BUt I do know this. It's all in God's hands. I will go where he wants me to go and I'll be acepted where he wants me to go, and anything else won't be good. JOnah didn't want to go to NInevah, but he got there. So if I'm dest9ined to go to Cornell then I'll get there, same for NYU or wherever else. But I want to be somewhere where I'm challenged but I don't want to be overly burdened to the point where I'm failing. I've never pulled an all nighter, and I just have to prepare for it.
Speaking of church. I've been feeling weird aout church lately. I've just been turned off by everything that adds to the whole of the church. Everytime I go to read the bible I see that it is a VERSION of the bible and I'm jsut turned off. Everytime I hear the pastor's speak I am jus tso turned off by what he has to say. I've been praying, and been having morning devotion. ( me jumping aorund screaming CECE in the morning before school. LOL) But I want to read my bible again, and other things. I guess I have this preconceived notion of how I have to be to be considered holy and since I'm not doing those things I feel sinful. WHO KNOWS. GOD DOES.
Also, the pastor's sons are starting to get on my nerves. the one who told his mother all the things that led to my exorcism has been giving more and more scray looks. He looks like he wants to run from me. On Sunday when my family arrived, everyone greeted him exept for me. I threw him a look. And I think he's going to approach me one day. One day he was headed for me and I got into the car. I think I['m going to say something like, " Oh no honey, don't try and tlak to me. you want to go tattle like a child. Like the group you were with didn't look like the children, you probably butch queenin' yourself." Enough shade, enough gay slang, and just be done. Now the other son, the one that exorcized me, he's wants to bve my mentor now. Because as you remember he says that I've experienced a lot of hurt and I need emotional help and BLAH. And that I'm gay, or looking for love for a man, some insanity. BUt he sees me in him and he wants to help lead me down the path of heterosexuality, so I can marry a woman just like he did. ( I CAN'T STAND HIS WIFE, I'M SO CLOSE TO READING HER ASS RIGHT IN CHURCH SHE IS JUST STANK.) On sunday he grabs my shoulder and is like, " How are YOU? Is EVERYTHING ALRIGHT? HOW IS EVERYTHING WORKING OUT?" I don't know if he expected me to say, "
Rashawn wants me back and I ole him NO, and the DEVIL IS A LIAR." But I mean, all of this over rumors and accusitions. My sex drive has been LOW and I LOVE IT. ( HAs anyone noticed. LOL) And I'm not looking t booys, I need to get these books together. Also, the pastor's wife is really active in me not going to work on Sundays, although I think that's why they hired me, because I said I could work weekends, when everyone else wnats to stay home. She was saying, "YOu need to take a stand for Jesus." Luckily, I was scheduled for a good time and it didn't conflict with church but who knows.
I'll write about work later. BUT I LOVE MY NEW JOB. Did I name drop yet. I'M A PROUD MEMBER OF GAP INC. WINK WINK. I'm doing good, and I REALLY like the job. the environment, the everything but I'll get there tomorrow. I just hope they do't fire me. But I don't know if they will or won't but....
GOD KNOWS
-Marz
So I got myself together yesterday. I felt like crying, and I could feel the tears interanlly. But I realized I don't have time to cry. I found it kind of, sad, that I dind't have enough time to express an emotion. But I didn't. I got my grade for Elementary Functions and I have a big ole' F. But I got it together. I started Elementary Functions at college last night, and it's easier than my high school class. ( Go figure.) And I'm going to have that college class replace the grade that I'm getting in high school, and I'll also get AP credit. SO if I can get an A in this college class along with the AP weight, then everything will work out. Myt GA will go up, and I can go to college. I know I'll go to college but I really feel Cornell is the one for me. But I realized that one I usually feel that way when I find my NEW FAVORITE COLLEGE THAT I MUST ATTEND. I mean, wasn't I like that a few months ago with NYU. WHO KNOWS. BUt I do know this. It's all in God's hands. I will go where he wants me to go and I'll be acepted where he wants me to go, and anything else won't be good. JOnah didn't want to go to NInevah, but he got there. So if I'm dest9ined to go to Cornell then I'll get there, same for NYU or wherever else. But I want to be somewhere where I'm challenged but I don't want to be overly burdened to the point where I'm failing. I've never pulled an all nighter, and I just have to prepare for it.
Speaking of church. I've been feeling weird aout church lately. I've just been turned off by everything that adds to the whole of the church. Everytime I go to read the bible I see that it is a VERSION of the bible and I'm jsut turned off. Everytime I hear the pastor's speak I am jus tso turned off by what he has to say. I've been praying, and been having morning devotion. ( me jumping aorund screaming CECE in the morning before school. LOL) But I want to read my bible again, and other things. I guess I have this preconceived notion of how I have to be to be considered holy and since I'm not doing those things I feel sinful. WHO KNOWS. GOD DOES.
Also, the pastor's sons are starting to get on my nerves. the one who told his mother all the things that led to my exorcism has been giving more and more scray looks. He looks like he wants to run from me. On Sunday when my family arrived, everyone greeted him exept for me. I threw him a look. And I think he's going to approach me one day. One day he was headed for me and I got into the car. I think I['m going to say something like, " Oh no honey, don't try and tlak to me. you want to go tattle like a child. Like the group you were with didn't look like the children, you probably butch queenin' yourself." Enough shade, enough gay slang, and just be done. Now the other son, the one that exorcized me, he's wants to bve my mentor now. Because as you remember he says that I've experienced a lot of hurt and I need emotional help and BLAH. And that I'm gay, or looking for love for a man, some insanity. BUt he sees me in him and he wants to help lead me down the path of heterosexuality, so I can marry a woman just like he did. ( I CAN'T STAND HIS WIFE, I'M SO CLOSE TO READING HER ASS RIGHT IN CHURCH SHE IS JUST STANK.) On sunday he grabs my shoulder and is like, " How are YOU? Is EVERYTHING ALRIGHT? HOW IS EVERYTHING WORKING OUT?" I don't know if he expected me to say, "
Rashawn wants me back and I ole him NO, and the DEVIL IS A LIAR." But I mean, all of this over rumors and accusitions. My sex drive has been LOW and I LOVE IT. ( HAs anyone noticed. LOL) And I'm not looking t booys, I need to get these books together. Also, the pastor's wife is really active in me not going to work on Sundays, although I think that's why they hired me, because I said I could work weekends, when everyone else wnats to stay home. She was saying, "YOu need to take a stand for Jesus." Luckily, I was scheduled for a good time and it didn't conflict with church but who knows.
I'll write about work later. BUT I LOVE MY NEW JOB. Did I name drop yet. I'M A PROUD MEMBER OF GAP INC. WINK WINK. I'm doing good, and I REALLY like the job. the environment, the everything but I'll get there tomorrow. I just hope they do't fire me. But I don't know if they will or won't but....
GOD KNOWS
-Marz
Monday, May 15, 2006
Untitled
I haven’t posted in two days. The internet is broken at home. I wrote. Just didn’t post. It’s too much trouble carrying them via disks. But I’ll get them up here. I’m depressed today. I wasn’t depressed at first. I took a test. Chemistry was the subject. I studied for that test. I noted. I went to tutoring. I did so much. I got the test, and didn’t know any of it.
THOUGHT PROCESS:
I knew this. I studied. Why don’t I know this? I went to tutoring. I can’t believe I don’t know this. I’m going to fail this. My GPA is going to down. It’s already abysmal. I want to go to Cornell. How will I get in? Isn’t the fact that I can’t do this a display that I can’t do college level work. This class isn’t even being weighed as a college leveled class anymore. I’m mad about that. I’ve wasted this whole year doing nothing. Where will I go? What will I do? I can’t do college level work. My rank is slowly dropping. I’m not doing anything spectacular in my other classes either. That transcript is just a mess. I wait until it counts to mess it up. WHERE DID THIS TEST COME FROM? Why should I study just to fail? Why am I trying? I don’t care anymore. I don’t want to care anymore but I do. DAMN THIS TEST. This is not what he taught. Where is the rest of the information to finish the equilibrium problem? How am I going to raise my grade? I am not doing anything to make it go higher. Or raise my GPA. Or raise my rank. I’M A DAMN FAILURE.
I’m angry. I’m stressed. I’m sad. I said I wouldn’t go here. But here I am. I’m angry that I’ve allowed myself to get back here, and it wasn’t even long that I stayed from it. I mean I can’t even include the weekend because I wasn’t in school. Should I be so easy about failing a test? Everyone in my life is always saying I put too much into these tests. THEY AREN’T TAKING THESE DAMN TESTS. (And they are just going to get harder as I get to college, which is WHY I probably won’t do well, hence me being a damn failure.)
I listened to the seniors present their senior research projects. I have to do one next year. I think I have dissociatve disorder. Multiple personalities if we’re being politically incorrect. I didn’t at first. But it’s like those commercials for the experimental drugs and some of the things sort of just FIT. I don’t think I’m as far as the folk in the presentation. But I’m somewhere. SOMEWHERE FAILING.
Today I walked out the house and it was raining. Hurricaning really. (I know that’s not a word.) I was happy. I thought it odd how happy I could be in such a setting. Because sadness is connected with rain oftentimes. But now, the rain has stopped, and I’m sad. Depressed really.
I mean maybe I should just not want to go to Cornell. That would change it all. I used to think I could get into Harvard. WISHFUL THINKING. I used to want to go to Princeton. NAÏVE. I wanted to go to Washington University. UNREALISTIC. And now here we are the HELL AGAIN. DISGRUNTLED.
I have to get these positioned thoughts out of my head. I’ve been ranting about the same thing for a week. (I really have though.) I need to get to other people’s blogs. I need to answer e-mails.
College starts tonight. I need some food. And I’m depressed. WHERE’S SOME ZOLOFT INFUSED COOKIES WHEN YOU NEED THEM?
-Marz
THOUGHT PROCESS:
I knew this. I studied. Why don’t I know this? I went to tutoring. I can’t believe I don’t know this. I’m going to fail this. My GPA is going to down. It’s already abysmal. I want to go to Cornell. How will I get in? Isn’t the fact that I can’t do this a display that I can’t do college level work. This class isn’t even being weighed as a college leveled class anymore. I’m mad about that. I’ve wasted this whole year doing nothing. Where will I go? What will I do? I can’t do college level work. My rank is slowly dropping. I’m not doing anything spectacular in my other classes either. That transcript is just a mess. I wait until it counts to mess it up. WHERE DID THIS TEST COME FROM? Why should I study just to fail? Why am I trying? I don’t care anymore. I don’t want to care anymore but I do. DAMN THIS TEST. This is not what he taught. Where is the rest of the information to finish the equilibrium problem? How am I going to raise my grade? I am not doing anything to make it go higher. Or raise my GPA. Or raise my rank. I’M A DAMN FAILURE.
I’m angry. I’m stressed. I’m sad. I said I wouldn’t go here. But here I am. I’m angry that I’ve allowed myself to get back here, and it wasn’t even long that I stayed from it. I mean I can’t even include the weekend because I wasn’t in school. Should I be so easy about failing a test? Everyone in my life is always saying I put too much into these tests. THEY AREN’T TAKING THESE DAMN TESTS. (And they are just going to get harder as I get to college, which is WHY I probably won’t do well, hence me being a damn failure.)
I listened to the seniors present their senior research projects. I have to do one next year. I think I have dissociatve disorder. Multiple personalities if we’re being politically incorrect. I didn’t at first. But it’s like those commercials for the experimental drugs and some of the things sort of just FIT. I don’t think I’m as far as the folk in the presentation. But I’m somewhere. SOMEWHERE FAILING.
Today I walked out the house and it was raining. Hurricaning really. (I know that’s not a word.) I was happy. I thought it odd how happy I could be in such a setting. Because sadness is connected with rain oftentimes. But now, the rain has stopped, and I’m sad. Depressed really.
I mean maybe I should just not want to go to Cornell. That would change it all. I used to think I could get into Harvard. WISHFUL THINKING. I used to want to go to Princeton. NAÏVE. I wanted to go to Washington University. UNREALISTIC. And now here we are the HELL AGAIN. DISGRUNTLED.
I have to get these positioned thoughts out of my head. I’ve been ranting about the same thing for a week. (I really have though.) I need to get to other people’s blogs. I need to answer e-mails.
College starts tonight. I need some food. And I’m depressed. WHERE’S SOME ZOLOFT INFUSED COOKIES WHEN YOU NEED THEM?
-Marz
Friday, May 12, 2006
Untitled
The sky is blue.
The dog is brown.
The wind is blowing.
I’m on the ground.
Dick up my ass.
I scream and shout.
I want it in,
But
Want it OUT!.
Which one of the following statements is true about the poem?
a. The sky is blue
b. The dog is brown
c. The wind is blowing
d. The narrator has a penis inserted in his or her rectum i.e. dick up my ass.
I want to know why my English teacher always has questions like this on her test. Then she gets mad when we answer a. “ I wanted, because it had more sensory details.” When we read selections we take notes, and she always asks something that is so obscene and weird. She’ll ask what type fo shoes they wore. I joked about one of the books that had a slave that she might ask on the test,
“What color was the slave’s skin?
a. mahogany
b. brown.
c. sienna
d. chocolate
I just don’t know about her. So this week I’ve been stressing out over grades, and the like. Especially after taking that SAT. With that I’m feeling like this I’m not expecting anything over a 600, I know I at least spelled my name right. Truthfully, I probably got over a 1200, I hope. I’ve been talking to my mother about colleges and things, and she gets all misty and starts crying. Then she starts thinking about how much she’ll miss me because I’m the only other one in the house she can relate to or something. Because my sister and her have conversations that are weird. (they are my sister always asks these stupid hypothetical questions, “ mom if I was 16 and I was over jennifer’s house and she had a dog that had puppies, would you let me keep one?” Then my mother doesn’t want to really answer because my sister will remember and bring home a puppy at 16 from Jennifer.)
But my mother said that I’m definitely going to get into college and I know that. I don’t’ see a purpose in stressing anymore, although I say that I won’t, I probably will. She said that God will allow me to get in where I’m supposed to go, and I know that as fact seeing as the school I go to now was DEFINITELY where I was supposed to go. ( another story for another time.) Basically, I was overly qualified for all the high schools I applied to and out of all the high schools I applied to I only got into this one and the other two were like HORRIBLE back-ups that were required. SO I’m going to try and stop stressing. IT’S SO HARD.
Tomorrow is my first day at the clothes store, and I’m a little nervous, but I know it’ll be hot. Tonight I have to go to the send off’s of two of my cousins. My junior prom is in two weeks. Everyone is so interested in what I’m wearing and who I’m bringing. I’m getting my suit tailored. WHOA. I hope I look really nice, because I’m going to be talking about the people who look bad to their face so WHATEVER.
-Marz
The dog is brown.
The wind is blowing.
I’m on the ground.
Dick up my ass.
I scream and shout.
I want it in,
But
Want it OUT!.
Which one of the following statements is true about the poem?
a. The sky is blue
b. The dog is brown
c. The wind is blowing
d. The narrator has a penis inserted in his or her rectum i.e. dick up my ass.
I want to know why my English teacher always has questions like this on her test. Then she gets mad when we answer a. “ I wanted, because it had more sensory details.” When we read selections we take notes, and she always asks something that is so obscene and weird. She’ll ask what type fo shoes they wore. I joked about one of the books that had a slave that she might ask on the test,
“What color was the slave’s skin?
a. mahogany
b. brown.
c. sienna
d. chocolate
I just don’t know about her. So this week I’ve been stressing out over grades, and the like. Especially after taking that SAT. With that I’m feeling like this I’m not expecting anything over a 600, I know I at least spelled my name right. Truthfully, I probably got over a 1200, I hope. I’ve been talking to my mother about colleges and things, and she gets all misty and starts crying. Then she starts thinking about how much she’ll miss me because I’m the only other one in the house she can relate to or something. Because my sister and her have conversations that are weird. (they are my sister always asks these stupid hypothetical questions, “ mom if I was 16 and I was over jennifer’s house and she had a dog that had puppies, would you let me keep one?” Then my mother doesn’t want to really answer because my sister will remember and bring home a puppy at 16 from Jennifer.)
But my mother said that I’m definitely going to get into college and I know that. I don’t’ see a purpose in stressing anymore, although I say that I won’t, I probably will. She said that God will allow me to get in where I’m supposed to go, and I know that as fact seeing as the school I go to now was DEFINITELY where I was supposed to go. ( another story for another time.) Basically, I was overly qualified for all the high schools I applied to and out of all the high schools I applied to I only got into this one and the other two were like HORRIBLE back-ups that were required. SO I’m going to try and stop stressing. IT’S SO HARD.
Tomorrow is my first day at the clothes store, and I’m a little nervous, but I know it’ll be hot. Tonight I have to go to the send off’s of two of my cousins. My junior prom is in two weeks. Everyone is so interested in what I’m wearing and who I’m bringing. I’m getting my suit tailored. WHOA. I hope I look really nice, because I’m going to be talking about the people who look bad to their face so WHATEVER.
-Marz
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Untitled regrouping of essence
Every May I have a sort of breakdown. Well, it's not every MAY. But for the last two I've had one. Last year's was so bad it's sort of got blocked out. But I rmember that it was four things that accumulated together. I remember one had to do with me wanting to come out and all the gay teens were downtown for Pride events and I could't go and enjoy. But this year I'm sort of downtown as they happen, and the boys are actually looking at me now. But I'm so busy that I can't go. But that's not what this is about. This year I've been on high alert as not to have a breakdown, because last year I wanted to just give up EVERYTHING. And I did. I got a report card of straight D's, but since I had received such high grades althoughout the year my average was alright.
This year I've been stressing over my grades, because My college applications will be going out in a few months. I have so much going on with colleges. I still have to do visits, get my parents minds togethers, get myself together, so much stress. And my main concern has been my grades and my SAT score. This year I took the harder classes to stand out to colleges and I feel as though I've sabotaged myself because I haven't been doing as well as I wanted to, or as others are doing. BUt in looking at others, I see that I begin to take the focus off of me. And that is where it needs to be. Yesterday in Elemenentary Functions I just lost it. I received a test back that I studided SO HARD for, and I got a F. A high F though. The teacher says that we can do the ones we got wrong so we can get a D, 65, and I have a 62. I see no point in doing all the work for three points. I began to just spiral into this INSANE place I go to.
I started thinking about how this C or D I get in this class is just going to stick out so boldly on my college transcript. HOw do I expect to pass college math if I can't pass this? IS this really something I couldn't get, because I'm REALLY good at math. Will this drop my GPA lower and then I won't be able to go where I want? WIll I succeed in college at all? AM I too unrealistic trying to even get into the higher echelon of schools? Should I just settle for less? I started to analyze why I felt this way or that way, and it boiled down to nothing logical or realistic. BUt I guess in my mind I have it placed that only those who go to the best schools become successful. I don't want to be like my parents working the jobs they are working at their age. My goal isn't to be rich and luxurious, but I WANT to be financially secure. That is what all this is about.
Then I started thinking about how all these classes I took and now I have no interest in them, because I've grown a disdain for them. I don't know what my passion is in life. And I know I shouldn't and it'd be unrealistic to know that now. BUT I WANT TO. I don't want to waste time searching for that thing.
Then some mess happened with my work training. I CAN'T WASTE TOKENS ON SOME TRAINING THAT WASN'T EVEN ON THAT DAY. My hard earned money going down the drain. I went to Tower and THEY MOVED HEATHER HEADLEY OFF THE LISTENING STATION. So I listened to Mary. I am so MAD she didn't walk down the runway in that Blue outfit in her latest video. Then I listened to Pink, and she helped me out. There was this slew of gay boys in the back staring, conversing, and pointing at me, and they were looking at porn. They were kind of hype over the porn. I think they were waiting for me to leave to interact with me, because as soon as I went to leave one yelled, " Alright let's go." They didn't talk to me, but two went running down the streets hand in hand, petrifying the straight people. I LOVED THE faces they received. Then this other gay trio that was giving their third member an orientation to bveing gay. One was like, " Dumb tops. I like that, that's going to be my next online scream name, dumnb top....." " Nigga," the other one added in. Yes, dumbtopnigga." WATCH OUT FOR THAT ONE.
I wanted to give up writing. I couldn't draw any words from me. I always get to this hopeless place, like I'm not going to be anything, or get anywhere. That even if I do what will it matter. That maybe one day I could get shot, and who'd care? I'd just be another negro shot down in the hood. I might get more than the usual minute because I'm a scholar, but besides that. NOPE just another negro. BUt I've sort of pulled it together. Now as I listen to J lo sing abpout getting right I need to get right like J Lo. ( figuratively speaking.) I Also need to learn that dance routine. Kick jump hop.
I'm so young, so immature, so naive, and I want all the answers. I know I have to live to receive them. I want to grow up to fast in trying to just randomly grabbing the answers. They'll come. I hope so.......
My mother always says that I'm going to be something great, awesome. That I already am. She says that I'm definitely going to college. But.... I just don't know.
Through experiencing life, living, we, as humans, grow and change. I've lost who I was, in changing and growing, I've grown into someone who I don't really like. I don't want to digress to rechange and reshape, but I don't want to build on this surface. I've lost my essence, that which makes me, me. I'm going to find it, right after I go to Elementary Functions tutoring.
-Marz
This year I've been stressing over my grades, because My college applications will be going out in a few months. I have so much going on with colleges. I still have to do visits, get my parents minds togethers, get myself together, so much stress. And my main concern has been my grades and my SAT score. This year I took the harder classes to stand out to colleges and I feel as though I've sabotaged myself because I haven't been doing as well as I wanted to, or as others are doing. BUt in looking at others, I see that I begin to take the focus off of me. And that is where it needs to be. Yesterday in Elemenentary Functions I just lost it. I received a test back that I studided SO HARD for, and I got a F. A high F though. The teacher says that we can do the ones we got wrong so we can get a D, 65, and I have a 62. I see no point in doing all the work for three points. I began to just spiral into this INSANE place I go to.
I started thinking about how this C or D I get in this class is just going to stick out so boldly on my college transcript. HOw do I expect to pass college math if I can't pass this? IS this really something I couldn't get, because I'm REALLY good at math. Will this drop my GPA lower and then I won't be able to go where I want? WIll I succeed in college at all? AM I too unrealistic trying to even get into the higher echelon of schools? Should I just settle for less? I started to analyze why I felt this way or that way, and it boiled down to nothing logical or realistic. BUt I guess in my mind I have it placed that only those who go to the best schools become successful. I don't want to be like my parents working the jobs they are working at their age. My goal isn't to be rich and luxurious, but I WANT to be financially secure. That is what all this is about.
Then I started thinking about how all these classes I took and now I have no interest in them, because I've grown a disdain for them. I don't know what my passion is in life. And I know I shouldn't and it'd be unrealistic to know that now. BUT I WANT TO. I don't want to waste time searching for that thing.
Then some mess happened with my work training. I CAN'T WASTE TOKENS ON SOME TRAINING THAT WASN'T EVEN ON THAT DAY. My hard earned money going down the drain. I went to Tower and THEY MOVED HEATHER HEADLEY OFF THE LISTENING STATION. So I listened to Mary. I am so MAD she didn't walk down the runway in that Blue outfit in her latest video. Then I listened to Pink, and she helped me out. There was this slew of gay boys in the back staring, conversing, and pointing at me, and they were looking at porn. They were kind of hype over the porn. I think they were waiting for me to leave to interact with me, because as soon as I went to leave one yelled, " Alright let's go." They didn't talk to me, but two went running down the streets hand in hand, petrifying the straight people. I LOVED THE faces they received. Then this other gay trio that was giving their third member an orientation to bveing gay. One was like, " Dumb tops. I like that, that's going to be my next online scream name, dumnb top....." " Nigga," the other one added in. Yes, dumbtopnigga." WATCH OUT FOR THAT ONE.
I wanted to give up writing. I couldn't draw any words from me. I always get to this hopeless place, like I'm not going to be anything, or get anywhere. That even if I do what will it matter. That maybe one day I could get shot, and who'd care? I'd just be another negro shot down in the hood. I might get more than the usual minute because I'm a scholar, but besides that. NOPE just another negro. BUt I've sort of pulled it together. Now as I listen to J lo sing abpout getting right I need to get right like J Lo. ( figuratively speaking.) I Also need to learn that dance routine. Kick jump hop.
I'm so young, so immature, so naive, and I want all the answers. I know I have to live to receive them. I want to grow up to fast in trying to just randomly grabbing the answers. They'll come. I hope so.......
My mother always says that I'm going to be something great, awesome. That I already am. She says that I'm definitely going to college. But.... I just don't know.
Through experiencing life, living, we, as humans, grow and change. I've lost who I was, in changing and growing, I've grown into someone who I don't really like. I don't want to digress to rechange and reshape, but I don't want to build on this surface. I've lost my essence, that which makes me, me. I'm going to find it, right after I go to Elementary Functions tutoring.
-Marz
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
3.7
Today I received my GPA, and I have a 3.7. I am so distraught. WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH A DAMN 3.7? I now see that I want to go to. I feel really motivated to do better, but now I'm wondering will I be able to go to a college that I want to. Will have to go to somewhere below my likings. Everyone is saying that I'm too hype over a 3.7. That it's good. The averga efor NYU is a 3,63, the average for Cornell ( where I really want to go) is like too close. I want to standout. Then I just took that damn SAT and what if that's bad, what if ? What if? What if? WHAT?
Going to this school I have like this idea engraved into my brain that if you don't go somewhere prestigious than you won't be anything. I rememver the first day during orientation when the teachers talked about preparing everyone for Harvard. the tones they used whn referring to TEmple and especially CCP. I don't know. I'm just flipping out now. But I feel like I won't make it anywhere, or do anything. I don't know. I'M SUCH AN EGGHEAD. SCREW BEING SUCH AN EGGHEAD. ( but I'm mad that this girl is screaming because her GPA dropped down to a 4.0)
Also, most of the people whose GPA are higher than mine cheat in our classes. I feel like why should I be so noble and read the work and do this and that, but these other people are cheating and getting farther than me. I JUST DON'T KNOW.
I DON'T WANT TO BE A FAILURE IN LIFE.
I'm off to my next class.
-Marz
Going to this school I have like this idea engraved into my brain that if you don't go somewhere prestigious than you won't be anything. I rememver the first day during orientation when the teachers talked about preparing everyone for Harvard. the tones they used whn referring to TEmple and especially CCP. I don't know. I'm just flipping out now. But I feel like I won't make it anywhere, or do anything. I don't know. I'M SUCH AN EGGHEAD. SCREW BEING SUCH AN EGGHEAD. ( but I'm mad that this girl is screaming because her GPA dropped down to a 4.0)
Also, most of the people whose GPA are higher than mine cheat in our classes. I feel like why should I be so noble and read the work and do this and that, but these other people are cheating and getting farther than me. I JUST DON'T KNOW.
I DON'T WANT TO BE A FAILURE IN LIFE.
I'm off to my next class.
-Marz
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
MOMMY'S BIRTHDAY
Today is my mommy’s birthday. YAYYYYYY! She is 39 today. She is in the piture above. NO, not the nice Caucasian woman in the HOT car. The clown on the right in the background, the other clown is my sister. ( I can't have people knowing what my mother looks like. LOL)
I just love my mother, but it just is not fair that her birthday is ALWAYS so lose to Mother’s day/ And then her wedding anniversary is in the beginning of June. TOO MUCH. I’m so happy for her, and just OMG I love my mother so much.
She has been going through with her tumor/ulcer. She had ramps the other day and she couldn’t take ibuprofen because it would interfere with the herbs. She is using the herbs, and doesn’t want to get the surgery. She doesn’t want to start menopause, and after some intense battering revealed that she didn’t like having C sections with my sister and I because the healing process was so intensive on her. Everyone is saying she should just get it ut out, especially the older women in her life. I don’t know.
WHAT DID I GET HER?
My mother and I are so alike, so she said that she wanted me to take her to see X mEn 3. HOW COOL OF A MOM IS THAT? She LOVED science fiction growing up, and she saw the last two, so we’ll go there and then this barbecue restaurant she has been talking
about FOREVER.
Despite out MANY CRAZY, INSANE, DYSFUNTIONAL argumerns, fights, beatings, and tears. I LOVE MY MOMMA.
I wish her many more. ( OMG I have to do it up for forty.)
Another post below.
-Marz
BEING BAD!!!!!
I don't know where everyone else think I went last night. But I was not having sex with anyone. I would write about the boy here, and go through so much more before I just sleep with some person. The person I get with is going to be insane after being grilled, because you can’t just have these random men, you have to grill them, but I’ll write about that when the time comes. If it comes.
Last night, I was sort of bad though. I did something that was not in my normal characteristics. Because I usually go home after work, but I saw something at the Central library that sparked my interest. You probably can’t see in the picture because I took it in the dark without the flash on, but that is E. Lynn Harris. I totally went to his book reading/discussion/ signing of his most recent book, “ say a Little Prayer”. I like his accent he has one of those accents that you have to repeat some of the words and then chuckle a little. I have this weird accent going on that goes on and off. When he read his book it really brought it to life, because when I read it, it didn’t hit me as hard as it did when he read it.
I liked the book. It talked about homophobia in the church. And some of the things really hit me because of my church recently hosting my exorcism. I’ve been feeling really different lately because of it, I’ll admit that. I’ve sort of let the introversion that I have everywhere else slip here into my blog. And I’ll have to work on that, but whatever.
On the way there I kept thinking about what would happen. Would it be packed? Would it be empty? Who would I sit next to? Would I see someone I knew?
I got there and went in and got a seat in a row by myself. Mr. Harris came out and started talking about where he’s been over the last four years. He read his book and answered some questions. I wanted to ask something deep about the book and homophobia in the church, but I had this HUGE headache. All the other people asked these questions that were like BLAH. Some were good. But some of the people were thirsty writers wondering about how to sell their, probably, dry books. And some of the other people were all scared/concerned about the DL and finding out about such folk. One girl almost made me slap her when she was saying that Invisible Life was written so beautiful she couldn’t believe that it wasn’t a heterosexual relationship. WHATEVER.
I took a picture with Mr. Harris, but I got the book from the library I work at so I didn’t want him to sign it, and then the next patron steal the book. I felt all rebellious and stuff. But my mother did know I was at the library, so whatever. I kept thinking some Christian protestors would use their rights to bear arms and start shooting because of some of the stuff the book says, but it was cool.
Everyone kept talking about people my age, and how we need so much help, and we are so messed up. I wanted to stand up and scream, “HELLO MY GENERATION IS NOT MESSED UP. JUST LOOK AT ME. I READ THE BOOK IN THREE DAYS.” But whatever.
-Marz
Monday, May 08, 2006
A lil something something.
I'm doing something tonight......HEHEHEHEHE. Find out what tomorrow.
(IT's interim day. HMM MM MMM)
-Marz
(IT's interim day. HMM MM MMM)
-Marz
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Clearing up some things
I won’t be writing too much today or tomorrow, because my brain is fried from the nine hours of intensive testing I’ve experienced between yesterday and today.
But I must clarify some things written in previous posts.
PICTURES
I won’t be showing my pictures because they are copyrighted and I can’t copy them from the website. The only way to show them to blogworld would be to give everyone the address. However, on the website it has my government name and my school. I learned from my last photoshoot that a good way to get those people who lurk around to say they’re there is to show a picture and look cute in it. So NO. But my next batch of photos will be up soon enough to see how I’ve been growing throughout puberty and changing, so just hold on.
ALPHA PHI ALPHA
I was not making a derogatory comment about Alpha Phi Alpha, nor was I trying to say anything about the hazing process. That is a part of the whole fraternity thing. But this chapter injured the hopeful candidate and left him with some irreparable injuries. I was basically saying that there is so much negativity spewed about African American males, and one of the things that is uplifting that demographic has sort of been tainted in a sense. The way it hit me was that I was seeing so much negativity spiral around black males and then one the the beacons fell into a black hole, and I felt like, "MY LAWD is there any venue wthat won't be exploited to make us look bad," so that was my whole thing. My personal feelings about fraternities may pop up soon, I am applying to colleges in like OCTOBER. ( I still can't believe.)
Newsflash on the whole violence thing in Philly. The other day there was a display at center City showing 1,500 guns. Those guns were collected from around the city with the many initiatives started. Many of the guns have been linked to homocides.Although that is GREAT. Two children were shot in front of a high school. One young child was shot in the head, rendering him paralyzed, and, although I don’t want to like make a HUGE point of it, they are all black.
SORRY TO INFORM YOU.....
UMMM... I sort of forgot to tell everyone their was a world limit, because everyone was like, " UMM you should have made it longer. You should have blah blah blah". The first two had a word limit off 100, that I went over; and the last one had a limit of 300 words, that I think I just made.
I’m off to recollect my mind.
-Marz
But I must clarify some things written in previous posts.
PICTURES
I won’t be showing my pictures because they are copyrighted and I can’t copy them from the website. The only way to show them to blogworld would be to give everyone the address. However, on the website it has my government name and my school. I learned from my last photoshoot that a good way to get those people who lurk around to say they’re there is to show a picture and look cute in it. So NO. But my next batch of photos will be up soon enough to see how I’ve been growing throughout puberty and changing, so just hold on.
ALPHA PHI ALPHA
I was not making a derogatory comment about Alpha Phi Alpha, nor was I trying to say anything about the hazing process. That is a part of the whole fraternity thing. But this chapter injured the hopeful candidate and left him with some irreparable injuries. I was basically saying that there is so much negativity spewed about African American males, and one of the things that is uplifting that demographic has sort of been tainted in a sense. The way it hit me was that I was seeing so much negativity spiral around black males and then one the the beacons fell into a black hole, and I felt like, "MY LAWD is there any venue wthat won't be exploited to make us look bad," so that was my whole thing. My personal feelings about fraternities may pop up soon, I am applying to colleges in like OCTOBER. ( I still can't believe.)
Newsflash on the whole violence thing in Philly. The other day there was a display at center City showing 1,500 guns. Those guns were collected from around the city with the many initiatives started. Many of the guns have been linked to homocides.Although that is GREAT. Two children were shot in front of a high school. One young child was shot in the head, rendering him paralyzed, and, although I don’t want to like make a HUGE point of it, they are all black.
SORRY TO INFORM YOU.....
UMMM... I sort of forgot to tell everyone their was a world limit, because everyone was like, " UMM you should have made it longer. You should have blah blah blah". The first two had a word limit off 100, that I went over; and the last one had a limit of 300 words, that I think I just made.
I’m off to recollect my mind.
-Marz
Thursday, May 04, 2006
NEWSFLASH
I GOT THE JOB I WAS AFTER, I AM SO SPEECHLESS.....
I SHOWED MOMMY MY SENIOR PORTRAITS, AND SHE BUST INTO TEARS WHEN SHE SAW ME IN THE CAP AND GOWN AND STARTED HUGGING ME.
P.S. tomorrow I have the AP test and some other things. I'M SO BUSY. I can't wait to sit down and write and read my people's blogs.
-Marz
I SHOWED MOMMY MY SENIOR PORTRAITS, AND SHE BUST INTO TEARS WHEN SHE SAW ME IN THE CAP AND GOWN AND STARTED HUGGING ME.
P.S. tomorrow I have the AP test and some other things. I'M SO BUSY. I can't wait to sit down and write and read my people's blogs.
-Marz
May 4, 2006
It is gorgeous today. It's going to get up to eigthy degress and I am dressed for the occasion. I have an interview today, so I know that I'll get that. I have to dig deep and bring out that inner person that I allow to stay inside and show here in my blog. (Because sometimes I feel it';s not vakued on my exterior, so I keep it to myself.)
Today was the last day of one of my community service programs. Our central theme was domestic violence, and of course that's an issue close to my heart because I was a victim and grew up with it ALL around me. Today we were at this shelter, which was in the suburbs, it was nice. The place took in teenagers girls, whom some had children, and they helped them until they could be sufficient living by themselves getting a job and things of that nature. I felt good helping out. I got this HUGE sandwich for lunch. I'm not going on a diet, because i don't believe in them. I believe people should change their food eating habits to something they could do all year. But I want to lower my fat intake, or up my cardio. I think I'll up my cardio because I LOVE TO EAT SOME FAT. Now I'm now eating whole pizzas, but I could just sit and eat peanut butter right out the jar. MY abs are really muscular, but there is this little layer of fat right there and I know if I start running again for a little it'll melt and my six pack will shine RIGHT THROUGH. So I need to get some sneakers together and hit the hills. ( The best plcae to run is hills.)
I've been feeling really bold with boys and tlaking to them lately. I don't know why. One of the boys in the program I was going to tell him he had nice lips, they were really bice and soft-looking. I didn't , I was going to but didn't. One of the coodinators of the program had really good dar for a woman. She always flirts with the boys in the program, and thought I was 18. We went to this restaurant for lunch and she mentioned how it'd be a nice place for our wedding receptiong. I asked her what about Rod, the boy who she flirted mercilessly with since the beginning who dind't come today. She thought (another) Rod and I were together and started asking how long we've been together. Earlier in the year, she told me to talk to the ugly boy who everyone treated badly because he was a little weird. (I'm not being mean. He was a bit weird. But I'm weird too, but I strive and SHINE in my weirdness.) She was like, " talk to him, get his number, get you a man." I don't know. I feel like I'm coming more into me. (How much more of me is there to come into? LOL)
SENIOR PORTRAITS
Everyone has been ringing today about senior portraits. I had to wait all day, because MS. BONNET wouldn't let me see them in her office. I looked at them and they are a HOT MESS. Not all of them, but a better majority. My lips look like they are protruding from my head, like they are totally different entities, and collagened. I have these HUGE BAGS under my eyes, they didn't catch my nose the way I like it to be captured. Because straight forward it's really pudgy, but when I catch it at the right angle you can see my European side because it's long and narrow. Everyone has said that the pictures in the proofs are better because they touch it up. I DON'T NEED TOUCH UPS. I take pictures of myself ALL THE TIME, and I can't afford Photoshop ONE. BUt TWO, if I could i wouldn't use it or need to. I mean I'm not saying I'm a dime, but these pictures are just MY LAWD. The angles they had me at make my body look so tiny and.....MESS.
I think the thing is my smile. My smile is HUGE AND BIG. I have these BIG CHEEKS, and DEEP DIMPLES, and BIG COLGATE TEETH. ( Which, if I may brag, did not need any type of braces. I thank momma for that LOL.) But I don't know how to smile for a picture so I get my top model couture poses all serious, but the photographer was all, "Smile for me". My head looks humongous, too big for my neck. Since the smile, my cheeks went so high that I now have that chinky eye look I get sometimes. It's just a mess, but I found ONE out of ELEVEN that I really like. But it still looks weird. EVERYONE WILL HAVE TO WAIT, BECAUSE I'LL BE DAMNED IF I HAVE SOME CHILD MOLESTER TRY AND STEAL MY PHOTO AND HUNT ME DOWN, AND TRY TO INSERT HIS BUTTER IN MY GRITS. (Like that person didn't just read I'm lowering my fat intake. LOL) I would post them, but some people haven't seen me and I OWULD NOT want these to be the first pictures they see of me. Because I can rock it. and these aren't even pebbles. ( I'm still scrolling through them, and I look like a monkey.)
Let me go and prepare for this GORGEOUS day. Hopefully, I mean, I KNOW, I'll be employed by the end of the day.
Today was the last day of one of my community service programs. Our central theme was domestic violence, and of course that's an issue close to my heart because I was a victim and grew up with it ALL around me. Today we were at this shelter, which was in the suburbs, it was nice. The place took in teenagers girls, whom some had children, and they helped them until they could be sufficient living by themselves getting a job and things of that nature. I felt good helping out. I got this HUGE sandwich for lunch. I'm not going on a diet, because i don't believe in them. I believe people should change their food eating habits to something they could do all year. But I want to lower my fat intake, or up my cardio. I think I'll up my cardio because I LOVE TO EAT SOME FAT. Now I'm now eating whole pizzas, but I could just sit and eat peanut butter right out the jar. MY abs are really muscular, but there is this little layer of fat right there and I know if I start running again for a little it'll melt and my six pack will shine RIGHT THROUGH. So I need to get some sneakers together and hit the hills. ( The best plcae to run is hills.)
I've been feeling really bold with boys and tlaking to them lately. I don't know why. One of the boys in the program I was going to tell him he had nice lips, they were really bice and soft-looking. I didn't , I was going to but didn't. One of the coodinators of the program had really good dar for a woman. She always flirts with the boys in the program, and thought I was 18. We went to this restaurant for lunch and she mentioned how it'd be a nice place for our wedding receptiong. I asked her what about Rod, the boy who she flirted mercilessly with since the beginning who dind't come today. She thought (another) Rod and I were together and started asking how long we've been together. Earlier in the year, she told me to talk to the ugly boy who everyone treated badly because he was a little weird. (I'm not being mean. He was a bit weird. But I'm weird too, but I strive and SHINE in my weirdness.) She was like, " talk to him, get his number, get you a man." I don't know. I feel like I'm coming more into me. (How much more of me is there to come into? LOL)
SENIOR PORTRAITS
Everyone has been ringing today about senior portraits. I had to wait all day, because MS. BONNET wouldn't let me see them in her office. I looked at them and they are a HOT MESS. Not all of them, but a better majority. My lips look like they are protruding from my head, like they are totally different entities, and collagened. I have these HUGE BAGS under my eyes, they didn't catch my nose the way I like it to be captured. Because straight forward it's really pudgy, but when I catch it at the right angle you can see my European side because it's long and narrow. Everyone has said that the pictures in the proofs are better because they touch it up. I DON'T NEED TOUCH UPS. I take pictures of myself ALL THE TIME, and I can't afford Photoshop ONE. BUt TWO, if I could i wouldn't use it or need to. I mean I'm not saying I'm a dime, but these pictures are just MY LAWD. The angles they had me at make my body look so tiny and.....MESS.
I think the thing is my smile. My smile is HUGE AND BIG. I have these BIG CHEEKS, and DEEP DIMPLES, and BIG COLGATE TEETH. ( Which, if I may brag, did not need any type of braces. I thank momma for that LOL.) But I don't know how to smile for a picture so I get my top model couture poses all serious, but the photographer was all, "Smile for me". My head looks humongous, too big for my neck. Since the smile, my cheeks went so high that I now have that chinky eye look I get sometimes. It's just a mess, but I found ONE out of ELEVEN that I really like. But it still looks weird. EVERYONE WILL HAVE TO WAIT, BECAUSE I'LL BE DAMNED IF I HAVE SOME CHILD MOLESTER TRY AND STEAL MY PHOTO AND HUNT ME DOWN, AND TRY TO INSERT HIS BUTTER IN MY GRITS. (Like that person didn't just read I'm lowering my fat intake. LOL) I would post them, but some people haven't seen me and I OWULD NOT want these to be the first pictures they see of me. Because I can rock it. and these aren't even pebbles. ( I'm still scrolling through them, and I look like a monkey.)
Let me go and prepare for this GORGEOUS day. Hopefully, I mean, I KNOW, I'll be employed by the end of the day.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
ASHAMED!!!!!
I had a post ready for today but I must write about this subject.
Last year, Philadelphia was fighting to be the city with the most crime, we lost being a few murders short. This year there are no contenders. I keep trying to inform people about our high crime rate and everyone is in denial. Theys ay that NEw York has a higher crime rate because fo the publicity New York gets for getting shot and mugged. They say that Compton is bad because of the exploitation by the many rappers from there. But yet and still Philly is or is trying to be number 1. So far this year we have had, at least, a murder a day. These murders are as heartbreaking to see whether its an 80-year old woman, or a child.
Another thing that is really starting to get to me is how all these murders are either done by or victimize a black male.
Two years ago a child was killed after a gang war in front of a school. Hundreds of bullets were fired, and this child was shot in the head. He was 9. It took so long to get the case underway because no one would testify, and those who did were advised by their parents to lie on the stand. The two men that were convictd of the cirme were offered words to say to the grieving family. They cured the family out and the people who were their supporting the criminals made threats to the family. ONe black child dead, two black men in jail for life plus two decades more for their behavior in court.
This morning as I read the paper it reported a young man about to go to college being shot down. Someone who was going to make it out SHOT DOWN. This usually happenS EVERY YEAR around graduation time. Some birhgt young balck male on his way to some eliute university gets shot down, and its just a shame. INternally people start thinking, " well damn he was going to do it, they could've gotten that one over there and no one would've cared. He's not going to do anything". They may not say it, and maybe they don't think it, but I do. But then again, I don't get to say whose life is worth more than anothers.
ON Sunday a child was shot in the doorway of his grandmother's house, dying in her arms. He was 15. The police think that it has ot do with some type of gang involvement.
This one isn't a murder but it made me mad. The hazing of a University of Penn student in Alpha Phi Alpha that got out of control. That fraternity is something positive for black men, it's very prestigious and it's members are those used most often in black history reports. The frat brothers take this wonderful showing of black men and make it a joke on the news for people to criticize.
Everytime I turn on the news, I know that someone has died. they are usually a black male. EVerytime I hear a report about a rape, and the reporters say that they are drawing a composite skecth. I KNOW IT"S GOING TO BE A BLACK MAN. (OH gyea, the one they reported on Sunday is a black man.)
IF we look at the cover page of the Philly News you can just see how it is. I don't feel safe. I'm ready to leave.
I'm tired of black men and young men being the targets and vicitms of these crimes. I'm not saying that other races should be shot down or do the shooting, but it's too much negative publicity. There are so few doing something to change this outlook on the demographic. And I'm starting to feel like ashamed of being a black male. Like I'm living the Vibe awards every day.
The other day as I sat on the bus, two black males drove in a car alongside the bus. They thought it would be funny to swerve in front of the bus and almost make us crash as we drove about 40mph. The bus stopped quick on the brakes and then titlted to the right as all of us passengers grabbed a bar to keep us form falling, and curved our necks to see what was going on. THANK GOD WE DIDN"T CRASH. As the bus driver came to the red light at the intersection he said out the window to the drivers, " You're not going to live long driving like that." the black men started laughing. The driver was an Italian, and he was tlaking to his friend. They started commenting on how they think its a joke, they don't have common sense, and then one said something that was slightly offensive, "he probably stole it." At first I took it and snarled my face, but I begin to think how they could have stolen it. I think it was a response of mine to automatically protect them or feel a certain type of way because they're black and I'm black, and that man's statement could be viewed as stereotypical. Beyond car stealing there are many stereotypes that arne't being broken. There are so few trying to break these stereotypes. Those on their way out get shot down in a mugging. Those who make the demographic look bad live, seemingly, luxuriously.
I don't know.
I don't want to make this all WOE BLACK FOLKS, because if we take away race there are still so many people dying in Philly, over FOOLISHNESS.
I'm ashamed, today, to be in the same demographic with these people.
-Marz
Last year, Philadelphia was fighting to be the city with the most crime, we lost being a few murders short. This year there are no contenders. I keep trying to inform people about our high crime rate and everyone is in denial. Theys ay that NEw York has a higher crime rate because fo the publicity New York gets for getting shot and mugged. They say that Compton is bad because of the exploitation by the many rappers from there. But yet and still Philly is or is trying to be number 1. So far this year we have had, at least, a murder a day. These murders are as heartbreaking to see whether its an 80-year old woman, or a child.
Another thing that is really starting to get to me is how all these murders are either done by or victimize a black male.
Two years ago a child was killed after a gang war in front of a school. Hundreds of bullets were fired, and this child was shot in the head. He was 9. It took so long to get the case underway because no one would testify, and those who did were advised by their parents to lie on the stand. The two men that were convictd of the cirme were offered words to say to the grieving family. They cured the family out and the people who were their supporting the criminals made threats to the family. ONe black child dead, two black men in jail for life plus two decades more for their behavior in court.
This morning as I read the paper it reported a young man about to go to college being shot down. Someone who was going to make it out SHOT DOWN. This usually happenS EVERY YEAR around graduation time. Some birhgt young balck male on his way to some eliute university gets shot down, and its just a shame. INternally people start thinking, " well damn he was going to do it, they could've gotten that one over there and no one would've cared. He's not going to do anything". They may not say it, and maybe they don't think it, but I do. But then again, I don't get to say whose life is worth more than anothers.
ON Sunday a child was shot in the doorway of his grandmother's house, dying in her arms. He was 15. The police think that it has ot do with some type of gang involvement.
This one isn't a murder but it made me mad. The hazing of a University of Penn student in Alpha Phi Alpha that got out of control. That fraternity is something positive for black men, it's very prestigious and it's members are those used most often in black history reports. The frat brothers take this wonderful showing of black men and make it a joke on the news for people to criticize.
Everytime I turn on the news, I know that someone has died. they are usually a black male. EVerytime I hear a report about a rape, and the reporters say that they are drawing a composite skecth. I KNOW IT"S GOING TO BE A BLACK MAN. (OH gyea, the one they reported on Sunday is a black man.)
IF we look at the cover page of the Philly News you can just see how it is. I don't feel safe. I'm ready to leave.
I'm tired of black men and young men being the targets and vicitms of these crimes. I'm not saying that other races should be shot down or do the shooting, but it's too much negative publicity. There are so few doing something to change this outlook on the demographic. And I'm starting to feel like ashamed of being a black male. Like I'm living the Vibe awards every day.
The other day as I sat on the bus, two black males drove in a car alongside the bus. They thought it would be funny to swerve in front of the bus and almost make us crash as we drove about 40mph. The bus stopped quick on the brakes and then titlted to the right as all of us passengers grabbed a bar to keep us form falling, and curved our necks to see what was going on. THANK GOD WE DIDN"T CRASH. As the bus driver came to the red light at the intersection he said out the window to the drivers, " You're not going to live long driving like that." the black men started laughing. The driver was an Italian, and he was tlaking to his friend. They started commenting on how they think its a joke, they don't have common sense, and then one said something that was slightly offensive, "he probably stole it." At first I took it and snarled my face, but I begin to think how they could have stolen it. I think it was a response of mine to automatically protect them or feel a certain type of way because they're black and I'm black, and that man's statement could be viewed as stereotypical. Beyond car stealing there are many stereotypes that arne't being broken. There are so few trying to break these stereotypes. Those on their way out get shot down in a mugging. Those who make the demographic look bad live, seemingly, luxuriously.
I don't know.
I don't want to make this all WOE BLACK FOLKS, because if we take away race there are still so many people dying in Philly, over FOOLISHNESS.
I'm ashamed, today, to be in the same demographic with these people.
-Marz
Monday, May 01, 2006
OFF, STRESSED, AND ANGRY
Last night I took my first college final and it was easy. But that class has made me doubt my writing capabilities even more. Everyone here is always saying I write so well. But I truly don’t feel I do. I know this weekend that the weakest section for me is going to be the writing section on the SAT.
I tried so hard in this class. I wanted to do so well because this was my first college class, and because this would get me out of college English. But everything the teacher said confused me. It wasn’t because it was hard, but his wording on every damn thing was just misconstruing. He gave out this test last week that all the Answers were E, and of course me thinking that was impossible threw in some A-D’s and I got a 40. I especially feel bad because if the stigma I attached to community college, and how I’m probably going to get a C ( at best). ( ME AND THESE DAMN C’s.) I mean I am 16, and it won’t really matter if I have to take English 101 again, but I wanted to be 6 credits short of my associates by 18. And because of mixed up planning I’ already 9 credits short.
This morning I had a test on the novel Huckleberry finn. The story has about 20 different characters that are real, now if we were to account for the fake people that Huckleberry Finn created we'd be near 60, probably. But the teacher wanted to ask specifics about the people and what color their shoes were and things like that. She mentioned this miniscule character and wanted to ask what disease she had. the whole class was screaming, " who the hell is Hannah?" I'm so angry.
This week is SO BUSY. I have another test today, and I have to go and get my working papers filled out. Tomorrow I have a test and work, and it is going to be my last day of college and I have to turn in a research paper, for this class I probably failed. Thursday I have a job interview. Friday I have to take the AP test which is going to be extra hard. The test is four hours long and I probably won't pass, meaning I'll have to take a college history course. Then On Saturday I have to take the SAT, I'm stressed out because I think I'm going to just totally fail. I keep imagining me there not remembering how to spell my name and then not even getting the 200 points. I NEED to score over 600 in all three sections to get into the colleges I want to. I WANT to score over 700. I've been taking SAT prep since 9th grade, and I stil don't feel prepared, and I keep praying I don't acquire scoliosis from these heavy books I'm carrying.
I'm off, stresed, and angry.
-Marz
I tried so hard in this class. I wanted to do so well because this was my first college class, and because this would get me out of college English. But everything the teacher said confused me. It wasn’t because it was hard, but his wording on every damn thing was just misconstruing. He gave out this test last week that all the Answers were E, and of course me thinking that was impossible threw in some A-D’s and I got a 40. I especially feel bad because if the stigma I attached to community college, and how I’m probably going to get a C ( at best). ( ME AND THESE DAMN C’s.) I mean I am 16, and it won’t really matter if I have to take English 101 again, but I wanted to be 6 credits short of my associates by 18. And because of mixed up planning I’ already 9 credits short.
This morning I had a test on the novel Huckleberry finn. The story has about 20 different characters that are real, now if we were to account for the fake people that Huckleberry Finn created we'd be near 60, probably. But the teacher wanted to ask specifics about the people and what color their shoes were and things like that. She mentioned this miniscule character and wanted to ask what disease she had. the whole class was screaming, " who the hell is Hannah?" I'm so angry.
This week is SO BUSY. I have another test today, and I have to go and get my working papers filled out. Tomorrow I have a test and work, and it is going to be my last day of college and I have to turn in a research paper, for this class I probably failed. Thursday I have a job interview. Friday I have to take the AP test which is going to be extra hard. The test is four hours long and I probably won't pass, meaning I'll have to take a college history course. Then On Saturday I have to take the SAT, I'm stressed out because I think I'm going to just totally fail. I keep imagining me there not remembering how to spell my name and then not even getting the 200 points. I NEED to score over 600 in all three sections to get into the colleges I want to. I WANT to score over 700. I've been taking SAT prep since 9th grade, and I stil don't feel prepared, and I keep praying I don't acquire scoliosis from these heavy books I'm carrying.
I'm off, stresed, and angry.
-Marz
Saturday on a Monday
Is it weird that the number of daily readers has gone up, but I’m not getting a lot of comments? It is sort of WEIRD. Well I love all my readers, and I do this for me, so I shouldn’t be getting caught up in comments. So whatever.
Saturday was GORGEOUS. The sun was shining and the clouds weren’t around, and my outfit was really nice. I felt like being cute, so I threw some clothes together in a new way, it was really hot. I had Saturday School first, and those kids are just a mess. In my first period class, this boy was showing the girls pictures of his penis on his camera phone. (Yes I was jealous he didn’t offer me the camera. But whatev....LOL) Then one of the girls, the one with low self-esteem about her weight, started talking about how she’s prostituting now. But she isn’t like a corner hoe, she just let this man “hit for a G”. Then she was trying to coax this other girl into doing it and telling her how she sets her own prices, like they were about to open a business for the cure for AIDS. Then she kept flirting with the boy with penis pictures. She kept asking questions about what he’d do and wouldn’t do sexually. Would he eat booty? Would he suck pussy? (How does one suck such a thing, I SWORE you ate it, but then again what would I know.) I then went to my second class where I studied for the SAT which I’m taking this Saturday and I’m freaking out about. I want to score a 2100, but I definitely NEED to score over 1800. (Cornell is my new top choice everyone.)
After Saturday School, I walked PRIDE to the Train station and went to work. At work, I am on the planning committee for this Youth Empowerment Summit. IT’s this thing where a few hundred teenagers come together and learn about different positive things they can do, and join together and be better people. (BLAH BLAH BLAH) I get paid from 7 to 3 and then I go to work from 4 to 6. I’m getting paid to sit through workshops that I’m going to enjoy, like a Poetry Slam for instance. There is nothing better, and I get an excused absence, it’s just too hot. We are at the closing end of the planning and were filling envelopes, so that is what I did. The Head coordinator of the Summit met me, and the other man who does the computer training introduced me saying that, “he’s surprisingly a TLA”. Saying that I look older. In between my break I called a potential clothing store that called on Friday to interview MOI. ( I won’t disclose the name, because I NEVER know who reads in Philly and will try to kidnap me, lock me in their basement, and make me write them a novel that they claim with a copyright.)
After work, I was walking around the city. I saw this nice little festival happening on the steps of the Art Museum. My eyes blinked as I saw free stuff and I went over. It was cute but didn’t have anything for me,. I didn’t want my face painted or receive a balloon animal. I then walked downtown and went into Express. Alright, so my outfit was REALLY HOT. The salesman at Express was really helpful. The people who work there are always good, but he was really good. I sort of felt bad that I was just browsing. He started picking out shirts that would go with my blazer he was just a good employee. That is why I like shopping down Center City, the employees offer a certain level of service because they know EVERYONE wants their job. ( That is why I applied to stores AWAY from metropolitan Philly. LOL) I then went into H&M. I did two photoshoots and they were hot. My next batch of pictures will be up soon enough people, to anyone who is waiting for them. (LOL Who would wait for that? LOL) As I walked around I realized some things about, I guess, gayteenness ( So not a word). But I’ll have more on that tomorrow.
I left H&M and walked over to Walnut Street. The Rainbow colored flags were flipping in the wind, and it was just GREAT. This week is black gay pride week, as I was informed. I have some issues with this of course, because I feel like if there is going to be Black gay pride week need to get every race group. Now of course I get from the older mos they feel a certain type of way because they don’t get as much recognition as Caucasian gay males, but how much coverage do Indonesian Gay men get? Exactly. (But then again I wouldn’t know, because I didn’t even know about this week until Lee and Clay told me.)
Well the gay black men were there, they’re there every weekend though because Walnut street has the clothing that gay men wear. ( Gap, Lucky, Urban Outfitters’, Puma, Diesel, Polo, Banana Republic, Kenneth Cole, Ubiq( this really hot sneaker store), and more.) So I was walking around with my camera, in my hot professor outfit with a mini-SAT test prep book in my arm with a metro. I was looking very New York-college-student-professor (LOL). The men were just giving me looks and stares. Since the sun is out it draws this light layer of oil form my pores and makes me have this glow ( which my friends call sex glow, and start asking about me having sex. LOL)This one man looked back at no one in particular as he walked with his friends. When I went to pass him he said to me very flirtatiously, “Oooh you look smart”. Flustered on what to say, because I’m trying to work on not being so introverted, I said, “Thank you”, smiled and walked on. We later bumped into each other in Ubiq and as we passed he said, “Wanna tutor me?” with a sexual tinge to his voice. I laughed like I-can’t-believe-this-man. I thought to say, “on what subject exactly?” But that’d be starting mess. He then watched me through the store front window with his friends and I left.
I look somewhat older, that’s what people say I look 16 to me, so I should just expect it to come, especially when I dress nicely, and on BGP weekend. He was cute, but first, I don’t need some male interrupting me from my studies, and second, I don’t like people who use lines. It makes me feel like I’m in a play and one day they’ll pull the curtains back and reveal to you that your whole relationship has just been one big play, show, production, and move on. But while shopping and internally crying because I NEED SO MUCH CLOTHING. (LOL) I thought about how I wish I had a cell phone to call Kiki so we could shop, and then I was thinking about how she’s not the best person to buy clothes with. She doesn’t give me as much direction as I need, or suggest things. I’m going to find me a gay friend to shop with. I’ve given up on RICKY and HAGH. They stopped coming and they weren’t my speed. I wanted to be their speed, but it’s not me, or so my young naive mind thinks. (Damn youth sometimes.) I walked down Walnut street more getting looks and glances, but I kept my head straight not glancing at anyone. I LOVED seeing the gay couples holding hands and walking arm in arm.
I crossed south Broad street and was in 13th street, portal to gay Philly. I was on the lookout for the pastor’s son. I didn’t see him. But then again if he was in a building looking at me, who knows. I walked to13th street station, and waited for the trolley. As I waited, I saw this other gay boy that I ALWAYS see around my neighborhood. It happens every so often on a trolley or walking down the street, and there is this other boy that looks like him that I see a lot also. He was staring at me, and I looked really artistic with my camera out taking pictures, and then I went and sat down and started to write. He got on the next trolley to come. My trolley came a few minutes later. It broke down and I had to get off early, but I noticed this cute gay boy on the trolley as the driver announced our detour. I was just thinking about how I needed a gay shopping pal ( Pal? Who says pal? LOL) who (maybe ) lives near. THERE HE WAS. He spotted me, but his sunglasses were the kind were oyu couldn’t see what he was looking at. We got off the trolley, and the whole trolley waited for the next one to come, well the route we needed.
As I wrote in my gaybashing post, after being threatened to be shot I became sort of introverted. (sort of? Who AM I TRYING TO LIE TO? LOL) I’ve been trying to work on it. I walked down and stood near the boy, and started writing. He kept glancing at me, and I kept telling myself, “the next time he looks I’m going to mouth ‘wassup’”. But each glance eluded put that thought in my head again. I just never said anything. Then the trolley came and it was packed to the EXTREME. But the boy was getting on, so I got on too, and had to stand very uncomfortably. Our hands were right on each other, both grasping on the standing pole, and we rubbed our hands against each other. They were cold. The lady moved and I was right next to him, and I kept thinking of things to say. I was going to compliment his sunglasses, ask where he bought them. But I wanted more things to say if a conversation ensued from that. I thought about another time when these gay boys were on a train and they kept staring at me, and one told the other to just come and talk to me and he said about how when he met the boy he was talking to he came up and said, “Hello my name is James.” And that is what I need to do, he made sure to say it loud enough so I could do it. I wanted to do that, but I kept thinking about if he was rude, and again what to say after, “Hello my name is Marcus.”
I think beyond the introversion, this comes from when I was ugly and badly dressed. I walked NEAR a gay male and he held his hand in my face and screamed, “NO”, like I was trying to talk to him. All his friends started laughing, and I guess I’ve been scarred by some rude mos. But then I kept thinking about how he kept looking at me, and how he was on level ground when he moved his hand onto mine and I HAD to grasp where I was, but he didn’t. And how he dressed nice, and he had a BOOK. (As you can see I’m also very over analytical/ over logical. I analyze things so much that are so simple.) I didn’t say anything, and I felt that regret that I usually do. I know in my head that I’d rather be rejected then go on thinking about coulda, woulda, shoulda. Maybe I’ll see him again? WHO KNOWS. It never amazes me. Whenever God and I hold conversations about there not being any smart gay boys in my hood with me, he brings one to me, and I always am QUIET. I HAVE TO GET OVER THIS INTROVERTED, QUIET, OVER ANALYTICAL PERSON. I HAVE TO REALIZE I AM NOT THAT SAME BOY PEOPLE TALK TO ME NOW.
For the last few weeks I’ve been realizing just how nice looking I am, or seeing myself the way others do. I realized that I’m one of those people who don’t’ realize like how attractive I am. Because people often give me nice compliments like, “sexy”, or “pretty boy” but I don’t think I deserve them. Also I KNOW beauty is fickle, so I don’t want to put my trust in my looks. I’d rather have them in my brain or internal beauty which lasts forever, because some battery acid could mess this face UP. I’ve already had it messed up by daddy, and random boys who’ve physically attacked my face. But I’d be a fool to say that the kids aren’t shallow, and my outward appearance isn’t something they would reject as they did before. (Although I was just walking near dude.) I DON’T KNOW. I’m off to do some homework because I do know that. OH WAIT Chemical kinetics. Goodness.
P.S. I have something really planned for next Monday. OMG you have no idea how big it’ll be for me.
-Marz
Saturday was GORGEOUS. The sun was shining and the clouds weren’t around, and my outfit was really nice. I felt like being cute, so I threw some clothes together in a new way, it was really hot. I had Saturday School first, and those kids are just a mess. In my first period class, this boy was showing the girls pictures of his penis on his camera phone. (Yes I was jealous he didn’t offer me the camera. But whatev....LOL) Then one of the girls, the one with low self-esteem about her weight, started talking about how she’s prostituting now. But she isn’t like a corner hoe, she just let this man “hit for a G”. Then she was trying to coax this other girl into doing it and telling her how she sets her own prices, like they were about to open a business for the cure for AIDS. Then she kept flirting with the boy with penis pictures. She kept asking questions about what he’d do and wouldn’t do sexually. Would he eat booty? Would he suck pussy? (How does one suck such a thing, I SWORE you ate it, but then again what would I know.) I then went to my second class where I studied for the SAT which I’m taking this Saturday and I’m freaking out about. I want to score a 2100, but I definitely NEED to score over 1800. (Cornell is my new top choice everyone.)
After Saturday School, I walked PRIDE to the Train station and went to work. At work, I am on the planning committee for this Youth Empowerment Summit. IT’s this thing where a few hundred teenagers come together and learn about different positive things they can do, and join together and be better people. (BLAH BLAH BLAH) I get paid from 7 to 3 and then I go to work from 4 to 6. I’m getting paid to sit through workshops that I’m going to enjoy, like a Poetry Slam for instance. There is nothing better, and I get an excused absence, it’s just too hot. We are at the closing end of the planning and were filling envelopes, so that is what I did. The Head coordinator of the Summit met me, and the other man who does the computer training introduced me saying that, “he’s surprisingly a TLA”. Saying that I look older. In between my break I called a potential clothing store that called on Friday to interview MOI. ( I won’t disclose the name, because I NEVER know who reads in Philly and will try to kidnap me, lock me in their basement, and make me write them a novel that they claim with a copyright.)
After work, I was walking around the city. I saw this nice little festival happening on the steps of the Art Museum. My eyes blinked as I saw free stuff and I went over. It was cute but didn’t have anything for me,. I didn’t want my face painted or receive a balloon animal. I then walked downtown and went into Express. Alright, so my outfit was REALLY HOT. The salesman at Express was really helpful. The people who work there are always good, but he was really good. I sort of felt bad that I was just browsing. He started picking out shirts that would go with my blazer he was just a good employee. That is why I like shopping down Center City, the employees offer a certain level of service because they know EVERYONE wants their job. ( That is why I applied to stores AWAY from metropolitan Philly. LOL) I then went into H&M. I did two photoshoots and they were hot. My next batch of pictures will be up soon enough people, to anyone who is waiting for them. (LOL Who would wait for that? LOL) As I walked around I realized some things about, I guess, gayteenness ( So not a word). But I’ll have more on that tomorrow.
I left H&M and walked over to Walnut Street. The Rainbow colored flags were flipping in the wind, and it was just GREAT. This week is black gay pride week, as I was informed. I have some issues with this of course, because I feel like if there is going to be Black gay pride week need to get every race group. Now of course I get from the older mos they feel a certain type of way because they don’t get as much recognition as Caucasian gay males, but how much coverage do Indonesian Gay men get? Exactly. (But then again I wouldn’t know, because I didn’t even know about this week until Lee and Clay told me.)
Well the gay black men were there, they’re there every weekend though because Walnut street has the clothing that gay men wear. ( Gap, Lucky, Urban Outfitters’, Puma, Diesel, Polo, Banana Republic, Kenneth Cole, Ubiq( this really hot sneaker store), and more.) So I was walking around with my camera, in my hot professor outfit with a mini-SAT test prep book in my arm with a metro. I was looking very New York-college-student-professor (LOL). The men were just giving me looks and stares. Since the sun is out it draws this light layer of oil form my pores and makes me have this glow ( which my friends call sex glow, and start asking about me having sex. LOL)This one man looked back at no one in particular as he walked with his friends. When I went to pass him he said to me very flirtatiously, “Oooh you look smart”. Flustered on what to say, because I’m trying to work on not being so introverted, I said, “Thank you”, smiled and walked on. We later bumped into each other in Ubiq and as we passed he said, “Wanna tutor me?” with a sexual tinge to his voice. I laughed like I-can’t-believe-this-man. I thought to say, “on what subject exactly?” But that’d be starting mess. He then watched me through the store front window with his friends and I left.
I look somewhat older, that’s what people say I look 16 to me, so I should just expect it to come, especially when I dress nicely, and on BGP weekend. He was cute, but first, I don’t need some male interrupting me from my studies, and second, I don’t like people who use lines. It makes me feel like I’m in a play and one day they’ll pull the curtains back and reveal to you that your whole relationship has just been one big play, show, production, and move on. But while shopping and internally crying because I NEED SO MUCH CLOTHING. (LOL) I thought about how I wish I had a cell phone to call Kiki so we could shop, and then I was thinking about how she’s not the best person to buy clothes with. She doesn’t give me as much direction as I need, or suggest things. I’m going to find me a gay friend to shop with. I’ve given up on RICKY and HAGH. They stopped coming and they weren’t my speed. I wanted to be their speed, but it’s not me, or so my young naive mind thinks. (Damn youth sometimes.) I walked down Walnut street more getting looks and glances, but I kept my head straight not glancing at anyone. I LOVED seeing the gay couples holding hands and walking arm in arm.
I crossed south Broad street and was in 13th street, portal to gay Philly. I was on the lookout for the pastor’s son. I didn’t see him. But then again if he was in a building looking at me, who knows. I walked to13th street station, and waited for the trolley. As I waited, I saw this other gay boy that I ALWAYS see around my neighborhood. It happens every so often on a trolley or walking down the street, and there is this other boy that looks like him that I see a lot also. He was staring at me, and I looked really artistic with my camera out taking pictures, and then I went and sat down and started to write. He got on the next trolley to come. My trolley came a few minutes later. It broke down and I had to get off early, but I noticed this cute gay boy on the trolley as the driver announced our detour. I was just thinking about how I needed a gay shopping pal ( Pal? Who says pal? LOL) who (maybe ) lives near. THERE HE WAS. He spotted me, but his sunglasses were the kind were oyu couldn’t see what he was looking at. We got off the trolley, and the whole trolley waited for the next one to come, well the route we needed.
As I wrote in my gaybashing post, after being threatened to be shot I became sort of introverted. (sort of? Who AM I TRYING TO LIE TO? LOL) I’ve been trying to work on it. I walked down and stood near the boy, and started writing. He kept glancing at me, and I kept telling myself, “the next time he looks I’m going to mouth ‘wassup’”. But each glance eluded put that thought in my head again. I just never said anything. Then the trolley came and it was packed to the EXTREME. But the boy was getting on, so I got on too, and had to stand very uncomfortably. Our hands were right on each other, both grasping on the standing pole, and we rubbed our hands against each other. They were cold. The lady moved and I was right next to him, and I kept thinking of things to say. I was going to compliment his sunglasses, ask where he bought them. But I wanted more things to say if a conversation ensued from that. I thought about another time when these gay boys were on a train and they kept staring at me, and one told the other to just come and talk to me and he said about how when he met the boy he was talking to he came up and said, “Hello my name is James.” And that is what I need to do, he made sure to say it loud enough so I could do it. I wanted to do that, but I kept thinking about if he was rude, and again what to say after, “Hello my name is Marcus.”
I think beyond the introversion, this comes from when I was ugly and badly dressed. I walked NEAR a gay male and he held his hand in my face and screamed, “NO”, like I was trying to talk to him. All his friends started laughing, and I guess I’ve been scarred by some rude mos. But then I kept thinking about how he kept looking at me, and how he was on level ground when he moved his hand onto mine and I HAD to grasp where I was, but he didn’t. And how he dressed nice, and he had a BOOK. (As you can see I’m also very over analytical/ over logical. I analyze things so much that are so simple.) I didn’t say anything, and I felt that regret that I usually do. I know in my head that I’d rather be rejected then go on thinking about coulda, woulda, shoulda. Maybe I’ll see him again? WHO KNOWS. It never amazes me. Whenever God and I hold conversations about there not being any smart gay boys in my hood with me, he brings one to me, and I always am QUIET. I HAVE TO GET OVER THIS INTROVERTED, QUIET, OVER ANALYTICAL PERSON. I HAVE TO REALIZE I AM NOT THAT SAME BOY PEOPLE TALK TO ME NOW.
For the last few weeks I’ve been realizing just how nice looking I am, or seeing myself the way others do. I realized that I’m one of those people who don’t’ realize like how attractive I am. Because people often give me nice compliments like, “sexy”, or “pretty boy” but I don’t think I deserve them. Also I KNOW beauty is fickle, so I don’t want to put my trust in my looks. I’d rather have them in my brain or internal beauty which lasts forever, because some battery acid could mess this face UP. I’ve already had it messed up by daddy, and random boys who’ve physically attacked my face. But I’d be a fool to say that the kids aren’t shallow, and my outward appearance isn’t something they would reject as they did before. (Although I was just walking near dude.) I DON’T KNOW. I’m off to do some homework because I do know that. OH WAIT Chemical kinetics. Goodness.
P.S. I have something really planned for next Monday. OMG you have no idea how big it’ll be for me.
-Marz
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