Dear Santa,
Usually, I don't like to create wishlists for myself when the holidays come around. Most years, I don't think I deserve half of what I get . . . but this year, Santa, I've been working really hard to be a good girl. I don't shoplift (as much as I used to). I no longer lie to my parents. I haven't cheated on any tests, played hooky from work, and I try every day to think positively about my life and to give back to the community that so generously gave to me. I check myself with the quickness when I find myself judging others and try to bestow the utmost patience upon those beezies and suckas who so regularly infiltrate my days and nights. I am aware of my impact on the environment and am trying my hardest to do my part to help by recycling and cutting water usage as much as possible (but, Santa, I can't give up my bi-weekly soaks!).
That being said, dear Santa, all I am asking for is lower level tickets to see the Golden State Warriors play. I know that they aren't doing so well this season, but I do believe that if I could just get out to Oracle at least once... my love and support will make a difference. Lord knows they need a little help.
That's it, Santa. Any game and any seat will do, but if I could see Steve Nash, Monta Ellis and/or Baron Davis from a lower level perspective, I will be eternally grateful to you and every other higher power that exists to make people happy this time of year.
Sincerely,
Lauren
November 29, 2008
Arraignment and Remand
"Something big is going on," she whispers to me. "There's deputies everywhere."
I look around and see that the room is swarming with tan and evergreen uniforms. One can hear the low metallic clink of handcuffs and feel the intensity of having firearms and nightsticks within such close proximity. Something big is definitely going on.
Two men are escorted into the room wearing three point shackles and dark blue jumpsuits. This strikes me as odd since in-custody inmates are typically dressed in bright orange. It isn't until I see the young faces of the two men that it dawns on me, they are juveniles being tried in adult court. I've been here before, but in a different place. Last year, I sat in Santa Barbara County Superior Court watching the same chain of events unfold. Young boys caught up in the gangster street life, proving their manhood by committing acts of violence against their own.
The court buzzes with conversation and Judge Dekreon commands the bench, repeatedly asking for the court appointed Spanish interpreter. My boss leans in close to me, "I think these are the boys who've been all over the news." She pauses for a second and I immediately run through the archive of San Francisco Chronicle Crime articles that I've stored in the back of my mind. "All of this for an iPod," she says and suddenly, I remember.
These boys are members of the infamous criminal organization known as MS-13 or La Mara Salvatrucha. Originating from El Salvador, La Mara Salvatrucha emerged in the late 1980s following the country's civil war. As the Salvadoranean immigrant population swelled in Southern California, many of the young men and youth found themselves being victimized by the already established Mexican gangs. The immigrants began to organize within themselves in a struggle to survive and soon became known as one of the most violent organized crime syndicates in Central America and the United States. La Mara Salvatrucha acheived a higher level of notoriety amongst other gangs as many of its members had been previously trained in guerilla warfare and executed a more sophisticated style of criminal behavior.
However, in the case of the two young men standing before me, sophistication and discipline were severely lacking. Their act of violence (robbing another young boy of his iPod and beheading him in a Japanese style execution with a long sword) only indicates that today's society is in a state of crisis and that honor among men has now been whittled away into almost nothing. Violence in San Francisco continues to swell at alarming rates, I hear the sirens every night and as the days become shorter and it gets darker earlier. . . I am afraid to step out into the streets past 7pm. I look at these two men, being arraigned in a court of law before receiving their high school diplomas and I can only wonder where the future of society is headed.
---
Fifteen minutes later I am sitting on the second floor of the courthouse. My boss has just explained to a client that because he failed to fully comply with the court's requirements he will be remanded back into custody today. He is a man with no education, born and raised into the criminal justice system... so he doesn't understand.
"But, I've committed no crime," he says. "I haven't done anything wrong."
His original case was assault on a police officer which would lead one to assume the he is a violent person. He has a history of drug abuse and obviously suffers from mental illnes - schizophrenia they say. But I'm looking at him, modestly dressed as best as he can- bright green velvet long coat and an old newsboy cap to keep his head warm and dry through the rain- and my heart breaks. He's absolutely right... the only crime that he, and many others in his position, has commited is being born into poverty and having no resources or means to rise above and fight against an oppressive system.
We head into the courtroom and my client is standing before the judge. The deputy is behind him, ready with handcuffs. My clients starts to beg, "Please, your honor, don't remand me. I've done nothing wrong. I can't go back in there. If you put me back in jail, you'll create even more of a monster in me. Please, your honor, give me a break. I've been working so hard. I've been doing my art. I've been gardening. I've been trying to make something of myself." Again, he is absolutely right. Locking him up in a cell where he is cut-off from other people diminishes any chance for him to become reintegrated into society... for him to function as a normal human being. But, the system is a bitch. It creates monsters out of men who, on any other day, wouldn't hurt a fly.
I look around and see that the room is swarming with tan and evergreen uniforms. One can hear the low metallic clink of handcuffs and feel the intensity of having firearms and nightsticks within such close proximity. Something big is definitely going on.
Two men are escorted into the room wearing three point shackles and dark blue jumpsuits. This strikes me as odd since in-custody inmates are typically dressed in bright orange. It isn't until I see the young faces of the two men that it dawns on me, they are juveniles being tried in adult court. I've been here before, but in a different place. Last year, I sat in Santa Barbara County Superior Court watching the same chain of events unfold. Young boys caught up in the gangster street life, proving their manhood by committing acts of violence against their own.
The court buzzes with conversation and Judge Dekreon commands the bench, repeatedly asking for the court appointed Spanish interpreter. My boss leans in close to me, "I think these are the boys who've been all over the news." She pauses for a second and I immediately run through the archive of San Francisco Chronicle Crime articles that I've stored in the back of my mind. "All of this for an iPod," she says and suddenly, I remember.
These boys are members of the infamous criminal organization known as MS-13 or La Mara Salvatrucha. Originating from El Salvador, La Mara Salvatrucha emerged in the late 1980s following the country's civil war. As the Salvadoranean immigrant population swelled in Southern California, many of the young men and youth found themselves being victimized by the already established Mexican gangs. The immigrants began to organize within themselves in a struggle to survive and soon became known as one of the most violent organized crime syndicates in Central America and the United States. La Mara Salvatrucha acheived a higher level of notoriety amongst other gangs as many of its members had been previously trained in guerilla warfare and executed a more sophisticated style of criminal behavior.
However, in the case of the two young men standing before me, sophistication and discipline were severely lacking. Their act of violence (robbing another young boy of his iPod and beheading him in a Japanese style execution with a long sword) only indicates that today's society is in a state of crisis and that honor among men has now been whittled away into almost nothing. Violence in San Francisco continues to swell at alarming rates, I hear the sirens every night and as the days become shorter and it gets darker earlier. . . I am afraid to step out into the streets past 7pm. I look at these two men, being arraigned in a court of law before receiving their high school diplomas and I can only wonder where the future of society is headed.
---
Fifteen minutes later I am sitting on the second floor of the courthouse. My boss has just explained to a client that because he failed to fully comply with the court's requirements he will be remanded back into custody today. He is a man with no education, born and raised into the criminal justice system... so he doesn't understand.
"But, I've committed no crime," he says. "I haven't done anything wrong."
His original case was assault on a police officer which would lead one to assume the he is a violent person. He has a history of drug abuse and obviously suffers from mental illnes - schizophrenia they say. But I'm looking at him, modestly dressed as best as he can- bright green velvet long coat and an old newsboy cap to keep his head warm and dry through the rain- and my heart breaks. He's absolutely right... the only crime that he, and many others in his position, has commited is being born into poverty and having no resources or means to rise above and fight against an oppressive system.
We head into the courtroom and my client is standing before the judge. The deputy is behind him, ready with handcuffs. My clients starts to beg, "Please, your honor, don't remand me. I've done nothing wrong. I can't go back in there. If you put me back in jail, you'll create even more of a monster in me. Please, your honor, give me a break. I've been working so hard. I've been doing my art. I've been gardening. I've been trying to make something of myself." Again, he is absolutely right. Locking him up in a cell where he is cut-off from other people diminishes any chance for him to become reintegrated into society... for him to function as a normal human being. But, the system is a bitch. It creates monsters out of men who, on any other day, wouldn't hurt a fly.
November 24, 2008
On My Man's Return to the Court
If you haven't noticed already, I have an almost life-debilitating obsession with Monta Ellis, point guard and shooting guard for the Golden State Warriors. Unfortunately, due to a STUPID ASS NON-BASKETBALL RELATED incident, my man Ellis was suspended for the first 30 games of the season. His suspension ends officially on December 17th. But, even more upsetting to me is the fact that he won't be suiting up until the beginning of next year so that he can fully recover from his STUPID ASS injury.
Now, I'm not too happy with Ellis' STUPID ASS right now because his STUPID ASS is costing us (and by us, I mean the Warriors) valuable wins. Yes, I understand that it's the beginning of the season but if you take a look at the past few games we lost... we've lost to ROOKIE ASS teams that we should have beat! (Ahem, the Grizzlies?!?!) And the season ain't getting any easier, people. We haven't even played the Lakers, the Suns (Yeah, Steve Nash!!), or the Celtics yet. But I'm not here to complain or talk shit about my man because, honest to God, I love Monta Ellis. He's amazing.
Anyway.
So, to quell my fetish, I have been youtubing/googling Monta's fine Southern ass on a regular basis. Today, as I was composing my Christmas wishlist (which will be ready in a couple of weeks for those of you so inclined to buy me nice gifts) I came across the most beautiful thing I've ever seen...
Monta Ellis is officially a franchise. Yes, my man has a shoe and it's coming out to herald his return. What a way to ring in the new year!
Now, I'm not too happy with Ellis' STUPID ASS right now because his STUPID ASS is costing us (and by us, I mean the Warriors) valuable wins. Yes, I understand that it's the beginning of the season but if you take a look at the past few games we lost... we've lost to ROOKIE ASS teams that we should have beat! (Ahem, the Grizzlies?!?!) And the season ain't getting any easier, people. We haven't even played the Lakers, the Suns (Yeah, Steve Nash!!), or the Celtics yet. But I'm not here to complain or talk shit about my man because, honest to God, I love Monta Ellis. He's amazing.
Anyway.
So, to quell my fetish, I have been youtubing/googling Monta's fine Southern ass on a regular basis. Today, as I was composing my Christmas wishlist (which will be ready in a couple of weeks for those of you so inclined to buy me nice gifts) I came across the most beautiful thing I've ever seen...
Monta Ellis is officially a franchise. Yes, my man has a shoe and it's coming out to herald his return. What a way to ring in the new year!
Dream Journal
He calls me in the middle of the night but I don't hear the phone ringing. I'm with my cousin in a two bedroom apartment full of shoji screens and plants in full bloom. There is no color, only splashes of brown and green. When I finally see that I've got a missed call, I'm excited. I have been waiting for his call.
I check the message that he's left but I can barely understand what he's saying. His voice cuts off and all I hear is, "Hey...I've been thinking...we should...stop...sex..call me.. 4..5...86...6886." When I start to dial his number my phone falls apart. The screen detaches and I struggle to hold it together, dialing and redialing what I think is his number. I start running through the apartment, searching for a landline and repeating the numbers so that I don't forget. My parents appear, holding a cordless phone, smiling at me. When I grab the phone and put my ear to the receiver, I can hear my brother on the other end of the line. He's wishing his ex girlfriend a happy birthday, which is today. I'm frustrated now, I'm forgetting the sound of his voice.
All of a sudden I'm in the bathroom. There is a child in the bathtub. He's sitting in warm water and I can see a light stream of yellow coming from beneath him.
"Get out of the tub!" I yell at him. I try to wash the yellow stream out of the water with the showerhead. The yellow slowly fades into light brown, then red. Then I notice that the showerhead is pointed directly at the tile wall, covered in rust. The water streaming down the wall is colored by the rust.
Flash forward, I'm walking out of the liquor store around the corner from my house. My mother is supposed to pick me up and take me to the airport. A red SUV pulls up beside me and, thinking its my mother, I hop in. But its not my mother. Its this guy I dated a couple months ago...and boy does he look good. He smiles at me and laughs. We start talking, flirting having a good "new love" moment. I'm thiniking to myself, "Dude, you dropped me. Why all of a sudden are you trying to holler again?" He puts his hand on my knee, tries to touch me in subtle ways.
Then I wake up. Its 1:30 in the morning and I've only been asleep for about an hour. I'm a little dazed, remembering the first part of my dream, unsure if it really happened or not. I've woken up from dreams like this before, confused by illusion and reality. I reach for my cellphone, just to make sure it didn't happen. Nope, no call. But I've got these butterflies in my stomach and I'm having trouble breathing.
Goddammit, I wish my dreams weren't so powerful.
I check the message that he's left but I can barely understand what he's saying. His voice cuts off and all I hear is, "Hey...I've been thinking...we should...stop...sex..call me.. 4..5...86...6886." When I start to dial his number my phone falls apart. The screen detaches and I struggle to hold it together, dialing and redialing what I think is his number. I start running through the apartment, searching for a landline and repeating the numbers so that I don't forget. My parents appear, holding a cordless phone, smiling at me. When I grab the phone and put my ear to the receiver, I can hear my brother on the other end of the line. He's wishing his ex girlfriend a happy birthday, which is today. I'm frustrated now, I'm forgetting the sound of his voice.
All of a sudden I'm in the bathroom. There is a child in the bathtub. He's sitting in warm water and I can see a light stream of yellow coming from beneath him.
"Get out of the tub!" I yell at him. I try to wash the yellow stream out of the water with the showerhead. The yellow slowly fades into light brown, then red. Then I notice that the showerhead is pointed directly at the tile wall, covered in rust. The water streaming down the wall is colored by the rust.
Flash forward, I'm walking out of the liquor store around the corner from my house. My mother is supposed to pick me up and take me to the airport. A red SUV pulls up beside me and, thinking its my mother, I hop in. But its not my mother. Its this guy I dated a couple months ago...and boy does he look good. He smiles at me and laughs. We start talking, flirting having a good "new love" moment. I'm thiniking to myself, "Dude, you dropped me. Why all of a sudden are you trying to holler again?" He puts his hand on my knee, tries to touch me in subtle ways.
Then I wake up. Its 1:30 in the morning and I've only been asleep for about an hour. I'm a little dazed, remembering the first part of my dream, unsure if it really happened or not. I've woken up from dreams like this before, confused by illusion and reality. I reach for my cellphone, just to make sure it didn't happen. Nope, no call. But I've got these butterflies in my stomach and I'm having trouble breathing.
Goddammit, I wish my dreams weren't so powerful.
November 18, 2008
Lesson 1: Dressing the Part
When I asked my boss if there was a dress code she said,"Dress appropriate." The key word here is: appropriate. What the fuck do I know about going into judge's chambers and walking through a gaggle of district attorneys? So, of course, true to self I wear the most appropriately inappropriate attire: a curve hugging, black and gray cowl neck dress. While I agree that the length was a clear violation of the three finger rule (hem cannot be higher than finger lengths above the knee), I was wearing black tights so absolutely no skin was showing. What's the big deal? On top of that, NO ONE wears bangles in the courtroom. I had to try so hard not to bangle that I damn near had to stop moving for ten minutes just so I wouldn't make a sound while the judge was talking. I didn't fare any better when my boss unexpectedly brought me into the jailhouse and I was marched in front of a line of male inmates. (By the way, for some reason, I really like the orange color of the sweatsuits that the inmates have to wear. Is that wrong?)
How do I integrate my fashion sense into something a little more conservative? Do I have to hide my tattoo everyday with a turtleneck and a watch? Where can I find cute heels comfortable enough to run and climb stairs in? Must I sacrifice style and substance in order to follow a strict unsaid understanding of the legal and law enforcement world?
It's gonna be hard with this body. I mean, not that I'm comparable to Buffy the Body or Vida Guerra. It's just that... I have these curves that I can't really hide unless I'm wearing a potato sack. A high school teacher once said to me, "Even when you're not violating the dress code, you look like you're violating the dress code." She was referring to the fact that though there was really nothing to see, you couldn't help but still look to make sure.
Anyway, I know that in order to get the right kind of attention from the people that I need to pay attention to... I must dress in a manner that they understand. Back to the pinstripes and button down shirts, I go. Gotta leave the clubbing clothes in the closet and put away the wifebeaters for cleaning days.
The days are getting colder so maybe the turtlenecks aren't such a bad idea after all.
How do I integrate my fashion sense into something a little more conservative? Do I have to hide my tattoo everyday with a turtleneck and a watch? Where can I find cute heels comfortable enough to run and climb stairs in? Must I sacrifice style and substance in order to follow a strict unsaid understanding of the legal and law enforcement world?
It's gonna be hard with this body. I mean, not that I'm comparable to Buffy the Body or Vida Guerra. It's just that... I have these curves that I can't really hide unless I'm wearing a potato sack. A high school teacher once said to me, "Even when you're not violating the dress code, you look like you're violating the dress code." She was referring to the fact that though there was really nothing to see, you couldn't help but still look to make sure.
Anyway, I know that in order to get the right kind of attention from the people that I need to pay attention to... I must dress in a manner that they understand. Back to the pinstripes and button down shirts, I go. Gotta leave the clubbing clothes in the closet and put away the wifebeaters for cleaning days.
The days are getting colder so maybe the turtlenecks aren't such a bad idea after all.
November 16, 2008
The First Day of the Rest of Your Life
It's funny when I think about what life was like for me 3 years ago... This isn't a long time ago, but who and where I am now is so far removed from who and where I was then that it feels like I've been reborn. Me at 21- taking Jack Daniels shot after shot and getting kicked out of clubs for throwing up in the bathroom. I thought I was the shit, barking orders at people who loved me because I was mad with control. At 21, I thought I knew about love. I'd experienced the romance of all romance and had boyfriends lie to and berate me. And, at 21, I thought that love equated to sex, love, money and drugs. If I were the same person that I was at 21 years old, I would be married to a Romanian man old enough to be my uncle and living in a one bedroom apartment in Eastern Europe with two children and no recollection of the English language or my Filipino roots.
But I regress into the past when I should focus on the present and dream about the future. That was three years ago and, as my Magic Trick pointed out, I have come full circle. I still have a lot of development left, don't get me wrong, but the progress has been significant. My co-dependancy issues have been stifled and reborn as an unwillingess to surrender my independance. This has lead to me to push people away, allowing space and time to create long gaps in my relationships. My defense is inpenetrable even though I have come across men (or rather boys) who come so close to meeting my standards. This is the answer to those who have asked me, "Why don't you have a boyfriend?" Because I am deathly afraid of what a boyfriend might do to me and because I have impossibly high standards.
In terms of love and romance, I am now willing to put down my guard for a moment. I am stepping out of my box little by little to allow another person in. Fuck it, I may not be a cupcaker, but I cannot deny the excessive lover in me. She's waiting to be unleashed.
Last Friday, my family at Walden House blessed me with a heartfelt send-off on my last day of work. Its true that one will never see the fruits of his/her labor until the very end. My coworkers and clients let me know that I changed their lives, even if only a little bit, even if only with a smile. It was a heartbreak like I had never known before. By the end of the meeting, I found myself in tears and I realized that even though I'm not meant to work at Walden House, I am meant to be there.
My career has taken a step forward and I anticipate a host of new personalities in my life, whether it be elders in long black robes sitting in judge's chambers or young women on the street who find themselves victims of circumstance. I aim to network and promote myself, to flirt with everyone in order to move ahead, and, most importantly, I will never forget where I have come from.
So tonight I fall asleep looking forward to starting the first day of the rest of my life. Game face, on.
But I regress into the past when I should focus on the present and dream about the future. That was three years ago and, as my Magic Trick pointed out, I have come full circle. I still have a lot of development left, don't get me wrong, but the progress has been significant. My co-dependancy issues have been stifled and reborn as an unwillingess to surrender my independance. This has lead to me to push people away, allowing space and time to create long gaps in my relationships. My defense is inpenetrable even though I have come across men (or rather boys) who come so close to meeting my standards. This is the answer to those who have asked me, "Why don't you have a boyfriend?" Because I am deathly afraid of what a boyfriend might do to me and because I have impossibly high standards.
In terms of love and romance, I am now willing to put down my guard for a moment. I am stepping out of my box little by little to allow another person in. Fuck it, I may not be a cupcaker, but I cannot deny the excessive lover in me. She's waiting to be unleashed.
Last Friday, my family at Walden House blessed me with a heartfelt send-off on my last day of work. Its true that one will never see the fruits of his/her labor until the very end. My coworkers and clients let me know that I changed their lives, even if only a little bit, even if only with a smile. It was a heartbreak like I had never known before. By the end of the meeting, I found myself in tears and I realized that even though I'm not meant to work at Walden House, I am meant to be there.
My career has taken a step forward and I anticipate a host of new personalities in my life, whether it be elders in long black robes sitting in judge's chambers or young women on the street who find themselves victims of circumstance. I aim to network and promote myself, to flirt with everyone in order to move ahead, and, most importantly, I will never forget where I have come from.
So tonight I fall asleep looking forward to starting the first day of the rest of my life. Game face, on.
November 15, 2008
L.A. Lakers vs. Detroit Pistons
Lakers 95
Detroit 106
Thank you, Allen Iverson for knocking those yellow and purple uniforms off of the pedestal.
Yeah, I'm a Laker hater... WHAT?!
Detroit 106
Thank you, Allen Iverson for knocking those yellow and purple uniforms off of the pedestal.
Yeah, I'm a Laker hater... WHAT?!
November 14, 2008
One of the HAPPIEST Nights of My Life
Golden State Warriors vs. L.A. Lakers - 12.14.2007
Sigh, I miss my boys... Can't wait to see Baron Davis this weekend!!! We miss you!! And Monta... we f*ing need you back!!
In other NBA news, Stever Nash (one game without pay), Matt Barnes and Rafer Alston (two games with out pay for both) have been suspended for the brawl this Wednesday. Shaquille O'Neill and Tracy McGrady were fined for their participation. Although, if you watch the video, Shaq made a beastly intervention on behalf of Steve Nash.
If you missed it, I posted the video . . . its NBA drama at its finest.
Sigh, I miss my boys... Can't wait to see Baron Davis this weekend!!! We miss you!! And Monta... we f*ing need you back!!
In other NBA news, Stever Nash (one game without pay), Matt Barnes and Rafer Alston (two games with out pay for both) have been suspended for the brawl this Wednesday. Shaquille O'Neill and Tracy McGrady were fined for their participation. Although, if you watch the video, Shaq made a beastly intervention on behalf of Steve Nash.
If you missed it, I posted the video . . . its NBA drama at its finest.
recquiescat in pace
11.14.2004
Rapper ODB, a founding member of the Wu-Tang Clan, has died in a New York recording studio.
ODB - Ol' Dirty Bastard - recently came out of prison after serving a sentence for drug possession. The rapper, whose real name was Russell Jones, would have been 36 on Monday.
He was famed for his unorthodox delivery, which became famous when he first hit the music scene in the 1990s with the Wu-Tang Clan, alongside Method Man, RZA and Ghostface Killah.
Each member went on to pursue their own solo work, with ODB having great success with numbers including Shimmy Shimmy Ya and Got Your Money.
He also dabbled in the mainstream, appearing on remixes with artists including Mariah Carey.
But with increased fame came increased pressure, and his behaviour became more erratic.
When his career was at its height, he and his children were followed by an MTV News camera crew, which filmed them being taken in a limousine to the welfare office to receive food stamps.
And in February 1998, millions of TV viewers saw him dive onto the stage at the Grammy awards, hijacking the microphone from singer Shawn Colvin as she was given her prize.
ODB then complained that he had spent a lot of cash on new clothes for the event because he had thought he would win the best rap album category, which went to P Diddy.
He later apologised for his outburst.
He began his career with the Wu-Tang Clan before going solo
But he also had several brushes with the law. He was wounded in shootings and arrested over charges including menacing security officers, illegally possessing body armour, driving with a suspended licence, shoplifting and threatening a former girlfriend.
By 2000 he had been ordered by a court to attend a rehabilitation centre in California but he escaped and managed to evade capture for a month.
Police arrested him in Philadelphia, three days after he had been performing in New York with members of the Wu-Tang Clan.
The following year he was sent to prison to serve a four-year sentence for drug possession, plus two concurrent years for his escape from the California clinic.
He was as famed for his erratic lifestyle as his music
But by 2003 he was released again and signed with the Roc-a-Fella record company working on a comeback album.
"Russell inspired all of us with his spirit, wit, and tremendous heart," said Roc-A-Fella founder Damon Dash.
"The world has lost a great talent, but we mourn the loss of our friend."
His death follows the deaths of several other rappers, including Jam Master Jay of Run DMC, who was shot in late 2002, and Notorious BIG and Tupac Shakur, who were both shot in the late 1990s.
Those killings remain unsolved.
November 13, 2008
Dream Car for Sale
My dream car since high school... if only I knew how to drive a stick...
http://sfbay.craigslist.org/sfc/cto/917874505.html
http://sfbay.craigslist.org/sfc/cto/917874505.html
Catch the Game Last Night?
So as of late I've been terribly disappointed with my boys at Oracle... so much so that if it weren't for my "belief being strong than doubt" (gotta love Duane Wade)... I'd become a Sun in a minute. If ya'll missed it last night here goes Rafer Alston and Matt Barnes (who forgot for a minute that he was playing basketball NOT football) starting a ruckus. Gotta love how Shaq bulldozes right through to save Steve Nash!
I <3 the NBA!
I <3 the NBA!
November 10, 2008
Keeping It Real for the Fellas
"I can do for you what Martin did for the people
Ran by the men but the women keep the tempo
It's very seldom that you're blessed to find your equal
Still play my part but let you play the lead role
Believe me
I'll follow this could be easy
I'll be the help whenever you need me
I see you hustle with my hustle
I can keep you
Focused on your focus
Let me feed you."
Ran by the men but the women keep the tempo
It's very seldom that you're blessed to find your equal
Still play my part but let you play the lead role
Believe me
I'll follow this could be easy
I'll be the help whenever you need me
I see you hustle with my hustle
I can keep you
Focused on your focus
Let me feed you."
-Upgrade U
Beyonce
November 6, 2008
Empathy
I am sitting on my back porch,
Cigarette in hand
I lift my fingers to my lips
And take a long drag.
The city has now entered the end of the year.
Today she says to me, "I remember February.
I remember all of the things that I wanted for myself
By the end of this year and now, look, it's November.
Here I am and this what I have,
I've never been happier."
In February, she was sneaking around dark hallways
Keeping secrets that she wasn't capable of handling.
She was beginning a long road to recovery from a life built in dark places,
Carrying a burden and enduring a struggle
That not too many people would understand.
She sits before me, smiles and support all around,
And I see the health, I see the color, I see the change.
I was there with her through those months.
I was there with her through those times.
And she was with me.
I wanted to tell her that I was afraid too.
I wanted to tell her that I had once been in a relationship
That self destructed, that left shards of broken glass
Deep in my skin.
I wanted to tell her that sometimes, they made me itch.
I wanted to tell her that I too
Had fallen in love with a man who didn't know how to love me back
But all I could say was a simple, "I know what you mean."
So I watch her now, standing on the corner
Cigarette in her hand.
She lifts her fingers to her lips
And takes a long drag.
Cigarette in hand
I lift my fingers to my lips
And take a long drag.
The city has now entered the end of the year.
Today she says to me, "I remember February.
I remember all of the things that I wanted for myself
By the end of this year and now, look, it's November.
Here I am and this what I have,
I've never been happier."
In February, she was sneaking around dark hallways
Keeping secrets that she wasn't capable of handling.
She was beginning a long road to recovery from a life built in dark places,
Carrying a burden and enduring a struggle
That not too many people would understand.
She sits before me, smiles and support all around,
And I see the health, I see the color, I see the change.
I was there with her through those months.
I was there with her through those times.
And she was with me.
I wanted to tell her that I was afraid too.
I wanted to tell her that I had once been in a relationship
That self destructed, that left shards of broken glass
Deep in my skin.
I wanted to tell her that sometimes, they made me itch.
I wanted to tell her that I too
Had fallen in love with a man who didn't know how to love me back
But all I could say was a simple, "I know what you mean."
So I watch her now, standing on the corner
Cigarette in her hand.
She lifts her fingers to her lips
And takes a long drag.
November 4, 2008
The People's Victory
November 04, 2008 : Democrats beat Republicans 338 to 160.
The best score since Golden State beat Dallas back in May 2007, 111 to 86.
*deep breath*
A new revolution has begun and tomorrow is the beginning of a new world. . .
... life is good.
"If You're Out There" - John Legend
I never thought that I would feel so nervous about something so big. *finger crossed*
If you hear this message, wherever you stand
I'm calling every woman, calling every man
We're the generation
We can't afford to wait
The future started yesterday and we're already late
If you're ready we can shake the world
Believe again
It starts within
We don't have to wait for destiny
We should be the change that we want to see
If you're out there...
-If You're Out There
John Legend
November 2, 2008
"Nasty" - Janet Jackson // Objectives
Ms. Jackson at her finest. Not only is the song an anthem for all the ladies who know what they want. . . the video is true poetry in motion.
---
I'm not a prude,
I just want some respect
So close the door if you want me to respond
Cause privacy is my middle name
My last name is control
No, my first name ain't baby,
It's Janet... Ms. Jackson if you're nasty
----
When writing a resume one must be specific in naming an objective. It is the first section in your resume (after your contact information) and gives employers an idea of whether or not the position you are applying for is right for you. An effective objective is clear and direct. This is what you expect to gain if hired. I have learned that putting
"To obtain full-time employment in the Criminal Justice field."
is not as effective as:
"To obtain a full-time case management position in a non-profit organization that provides services for low-income citizens."
Yes the first example may get you a job, but the second objective will get you a career. Trust, I have written and rewritten my resume many times. Objectives will change as your experience in the work field grows. With each new job you learn what you are capable of doing and what you refuse to do. Honestly, writing new resumes was always a positive way for me to build self-esteem and the perfect chance to manifest new responsibilites in my life.
In order to successfully manifest your dreams (if that is what you are inclined to do) you must be clear and specific in knowing what you want. So check your vocabulary because sometimes the Universe gets confused.
That being said, I have changed my vocabulary.
"A paycheck" becomes "a living."
"A job" becomes "a career."
"A perfect body" becomes "A healthy body."
"Friends" become "companions."
"A boy" becomes "a man."
Objectives 1 & 2 realized. Objectives 3, 4 & 5 in progress.
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