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February 25, 2007

Milwaukee, Day 2

So. Today went really well in Chicago with the college fair. Just tired from smiling and selling the University. It's been a lot of work, but been fun so far. People love San Francisco, I tell you. I'm always thrilled to meet the people.

During the fair, it snowed and snowed. I kept looking outside to see it fall, and got to walk around in it a bit today. i enjoyed looking at it; I know I'm a Cali girl, but snow is something cool. That is, until you have to  be stuck in it. We're being shuttled around by bus, and we had to drive from Chicago to Milwaukee, where I am tonight hanging out, watching Los Oscars (I won't spoil it for you).

We have an early morning tomorrow; about 31 counselors will meet us for breakfast. Then three more schools. Then, voila, back to Chicago by way of Skokie.

We went to TGIFridays tonight, and if you know me, it was a bit of a struggle to like it, but vodka cranberries make the evening go better. I have new friends here, and yes, I'm the only obvious minority on the trip. I'm not trippin' off it, but you know how that goes. I have renewed my fag hag card, thank god. ;-) I miss my Mango.

I hate struggling with the suitcases and lugging around things from point a to point b, and I wish I were like some folks who could live out of a carry-on, but I can't. I have a lot of junk! I'm going to get some rest, read a little, chat with my homies, and if I have insomnia, watch a movie or two ;-)

Much love,

Voodoo 

Because I Know You Need KFC...

I think I will never have KFC again. At least, in NYC. Watch the video at the end of the article...it's better than the one that was headlined. BTW: i don't know if you noticed, but I 'share' clippings I find in my sidebar on the right hand side...stuff i think YOU should read. Not serious at all, you know. But still a little way of sharing the love with you!

PS: It stopped snowing. it's now slushy goodness. But now it's warmed up to...36 degrees.

voodoo 

February 24, 2007

Chicago, Day 1

Today starts yesterday with me, as always, packing last minute and staying up too late. I went to bed around 1:30 and woke up around 6:45 to catch an 8:40 flight. Mangonuts wasn't thrilled, but neither was I, as we had a great week together, and we won't see each other for another week. We do have a few hours Thursday night though ;-)

Anyways, here's my routine, lay out clothes, see what matches and then use that to pack. Seriously. I line up pants and shirts and see if it works. Then I shove that into my suitcase. All is well. Pack dopp kit and refill all the stuff that's old. Work in some trips to Target (or the Round Spot, teehee).

I have to bring a brochure case, because that's what I use to go from school to school, and that's been weird because it's heavy and bulky. enough with the boring stuff, let's talk about the plane ride. I get to the airport, Mango loses patience because he drops me off in a weird spot and it's a little out of the way, but it's all good.  I go to the gate check because the line is way too freakin' LONG inside, but i don't get a seat assignment.

I go through security, and it's easy, but unloading everything is a pain. Laptop. Shoes. Heavy case. Heavy jacket. Shit. I leave behind my shitty little quart bag. But go back to get it and all is well. The flight is packed like there's no tomorrow, and like sheep I get onto the plane and I walk past my seat (to be honest, I didn't check the seat assignment). I manage to get into my seat and it's in the emergency row, across from the spot where you walk onto the plane. Not too shabby. Rowmate was little white girl from North Carolina (Come on and raise up, take your shirt off, twist it 'round yo' head, Spin it like a heiicopter!, sorry i can't help it everytime I say North...okay never mind). She was cool. Chatty, but it was all good.

So we're taxi-ing up to take off, and the airline steward chick freaks out (remember, I'm in the E-row, next to the jump seats where the airline staff sit during takeoff/landing), and jumps out and calls for a medical professional. A doctor says waddup (not really, but come on), and someone is unresponsive two rows behind me. You know, I could easily lose patience if it's someone acting a fool, but if someone is not doing well, I'm not going to be a bitch about it. That's a good thing, too, because we were there for count 'em, another hour and a half getting dude stabilized, off the plane, changing the seat covers (I think he may have pooped himself in the seat), replacing the oxygen tank, and filling reports out. In the end, he was a little more lucid but his travel companion, a woman, was visibly shaken and crying.

Fast forward through me on the plane, me sleeping, me reading an amazing book: The Tender Bar, me watching my iPod flics, me eating my scrumptious sammich from Cafe Rigolo. Landing in Chicago, I see snow. Great. It's cold here, but nothing serious when I de-plane. I get in the cab after I figure out where to catch it, and then I hear tapping noises on the cab, and it turns out that it's frozen rain. What. Is. Frozen. Rain. Then i remember the system that hit SF then I realize this is the same system. Great.

Snow and me haven't seen each other in years. Maybe four. It's tough to stop looking out the window because it's 1) very windy, 2) very snowy/icy/rainy, and 3) there are weird sounds. Scrapey thingies. Snow scrapers, what's that about? Intriguing. There's a mall across the street too. Lord and Taylor's? What's that? BTW, I'm near McDonald's headquarters. Intriguing, this town. It's been snowing and sleeting away since I got into my room, and that was over seven hours ago.

I don't know if I already mentioned this but I'm here on business, and I look forward to representing my fine place of work to whoever is brave as hell to drive out here. To mention it, god, I hope we're even able to make it to Milwaukee, home of great things like Laverne and Shirley.  that's tomorrow's destination after the College Fair. Then back to Skokie. Okie dokie, pokie. 

Anyways, I'm two hours ahead of you, so i should get to bed. Room service, btw, is awesome.

Snow angels. Yep, I'll have to learn about that too.

Voodoo 

This is fucked up.

How is this cool? I think sometimes they send me because they like me. I think sometimes they send me because they hate me.

This is how I know they hate me.

Voodoo 

February 23, 2007

A Fag Hag's Lament

You came and went without a word
The smile
Infectious.

You took me in
And loved me dearly
The love you gave
Priceless 

Late night screaming at the strobelight
Dancing sweating
That was my life with you
During those moments
Careless 

Time came and went
We both moved on
No words exchanged
We both let go
Silence

Goodbyes comes my way
Fills my heart with crying
I look for you, my eyes search in faces
Last week, you came to me in a dream
I saw you again happy and sipping that drink
Hat low over your eyes
You came out
I passed you another drink
You were ageless then
A weight off your shoulders
And everything was okay 

My friend
We had so much more to
Catch up on
And I waited too long

Sadness.

Sammy, promise me,
When we see each other again
We will go to back to Universe
Sip Boone's and laugh laugh laugh
About the night's conquests
Boys named Sergio
Girls named Mark and Gabe
Nights in the back of my Jetta
And give me that smile again. 

To my friend Sammy. Find peace.

 

 

 

February 20, 2007

Are You the ONE?

Let me know if you're interested in coming...email me.

Join the National Marrow Donor Program registry and help save a life
tomorrow at the Bone Marrow Drive:
11-2, @ 1:30, Flower Miller will speak about her experience as a donor.

Drop in at any time, the process takes only 15 minutes!

This event invites everyone to help find matches for thousands of donors
in need. By registering to be a donor, you get the chance to save the
life of a patient in need. Often you can be a person's only match and
life saving miracle. Currently, only 25% of the National Registry
represent the racial minority communities; therefore, the current odds
for a minority patient to find a matching unrelated donor may be more
close to 1 in a million.

February 17, 2007

Outrage over college theme party accused of mocking Hispanics

Outrage over college theme party accused of mocking Hispanics

Saturday, February 17, 2007

(02-17) 17:11 PST Santa Clara, Calif. (AP) --

A "South of the Border" theme party has stirred outrage at a Silicon Valley university after students showed up at the bash dressed as Hispanic janitors, gardeners, gangbangers and pregnant teens.

Photographs from the private, off-campus party organized by Santa Clara University students in late January appeared on the Internet soon afterward, prompting an outcry on campus.

One image shows a partygoer with a balloon stuffed under her shirt, making her appear pregnant. In another, a woman wears pink rubber cleaning gloves and carries a feather duster.

"A lot of people have the idea that Mexicans or Latin Americans are all like that, and that's wrong," said Nadine Rasch, 18, a finance major from Guatemala, who did not attend the party.

Paul Locatelli, president of the nearly 8,400-student Jesuit university, has condemned the party. No students have been disciplined, but a campus spokeswoman said the school is investigating the party and that the university's code of conduct extends to students who live off-campus.

A protest march organized by students attracted 250 people Tuesday, and the campus has held meetings and plans a forum for this Thursday.

 

****

You know, there's a part of me that sees headlines about ethnic parties gone wild and I automatically think that they happen over THERE. As in far away from California, in Hickville University. I almost expect it. Today's article shows me that over there is deep south alright. In Silicon Valley. SMH (shaking my head) at the whole thing, people.  

Santa Clara University is a Jesuit school. For those of you who do not know what that means, it means that I can safely assume that any student, staff and faculty member of a Jesuit school understands the same things: that we are men and women for others. That we are of service. That we are in the business of changing the world. I can say we safely because I attended a Jesuit school, as did some of my friends. So yes, I'm slightly miffed.

But enough about me.  

Someone somewhere is walking around thinking that it is a great idea for a party to dress up as a (insert ethnic group here). It's a theme, this person is saying to the committee, and it makes it interesting for people to come. The committee nods their heads and says, okay, you're right. But, someone says, we have to keep it low key. Invite only certain people, keep it small, and it'll all be good. Someone picks up the kegs, orders the decorations from Party Express, and the invites go in the mail. What could possibly go wrong?

Then the pictures go on Facebook, MySpace, and videos on YouTube. Double double, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble.

What gives people the mind to think that this is okay? That it is okay to do disturbing things like portray another individual's culture in demeaning stereotypes. That it is okay to mock an entire community...that it's OKAY to do this...to be whatever it is that means to be Hispanic for a night. To be African American. I'm waiting for the Asian party, my god. Anyways, what gives someone the right? It's one thing to have an Asian themed party with food, maybe some decorations, but to ask your homies to bust out their kung fu gear, Chun Li earmuffs, and slanty eye makeup is fuckin' wrong, and you know it.

So to answer my question, what makes it okay? It's because of privilege and power. That it's okay to pick up a gold chain at Toys R Us and floss it to your party because it's okay to do it because you're not harming anyone, you're not doing it in massive public, it's at a party and no one needs to know what's going down because it's all gravy, in house shit.

If you're like me, and most people who have a conscience, you are shaking your head and thinking, "Yah, but does that make it right?" It doesn't. We all know that it's not right, that it's not okay (is that a Whitney song?) to do it, and just because you do it in your home, or behind closed doors, does not make it okay. Because you perceive another culture as mockable and choose to portray the images and people of that culture in its worst forms means that you clearly are exercising your power. Oppression to you is an unconscious process because you've never had to acknowledge it or deal with it. (McIntosh, 1988). You have an amazing power that you are not even aware of, that gives you liberty to do crappy things like this without thinking of ramifications. It's not in your scope of awareness, it's not a part of your daily life, it's not part of your thought process. As a person of color, fighting against the narrow boxes we are perceived to be in is a life long battle. For you, not even an afterthought.

It's disgusting. It needs to stop. And we, and yes you too, need to fight against it. SMH, people. Get your shit together and let's do this.

Voodoo

McIntosh, P. (1988). White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack. Wellesley College Center for Research on Women, Wellesley MA. Retrieve from the web on 2/17/2007 at http://seamonkey.ed.asu.edu/~mcisaac/emc598ge/Unpacking.html (this is an amazing article, please read it if you have time).

February 15, 2007

Gadgets and Me. And You too, admit it.

You know I love gadgets. I so LOVE gadgets. It's my downfall, I swear to you. So I'm glad to found this... from Consumerist, one of my fave pages on my trusty Google Reader app:

Stop buying this crap. Just stop it. You don't need it. Wait a year until the reviews come out and the other suckers too addicted to having the very latest and greatest buy it, put up a review, and have moved on to something else. Stop buying broken products and then shrugging your shoulders when it doesn't do what it is supposed to. Stop buying products that serve any other master than you. Use older stuff that works. Make it yourself. Only buy new stuff from companies that have proven themselves good servants of their customers in the past. Complaining online about this stuff helps, but really, just stop buying it.

Okay. You win.

I started taking this Financial Management class because I'm a freakin' SCRUB when I do money things, and well, it's about time, dammit.

That is all.

Voodoo 

 

The full article after the jump, kids. Enjoy and have a laugh. 

Gizmodo editor emeritus Joel Johnson is back, and if you thought he was doling out noogies before, wait til you get a hold of his first column where he scolds you, the Giz writers, the gadget makers, and you, dear readers, for supporting the disgusting cycle of gadget whoring. Just like the obscure route that your marijuana money takes into the Al Qaeda pocketbooks, by reading, writing, and buying shitty gadgets, we're just as guilty as the people who build them.

Consumer electronics are a joke. It's everyone's fault but mine. You assholes.

These guys want me to write a weekly column, but I hate consumer electronics, I hate marketing, and I hate you people, because you're all so dumb. If you're lucky and I need the money, I will.

I gave up two years of my life writing about gadgets for this site. Waking up every morning at 5 AM, chewing up press releases to find the rare morsel of legitimate information, chasing down "hot tips" that ended up being photochops of iPods with reflections of genitals in the touchscreens. Oh, and the worst: fielding emails from PR parasites eager to suck away precious time in a half-hour phone meeting while the Senior Vice-President of Smoke Blowing tells me about how his company's software—based on an idea cribbed from Google—is going to change the way I look at something I didn't care about in the first place. (Inevitably, "forever.")

And you guys just ate it up. Kept buying shitty phones and broken media devices green and dripping with DRM. You broke the site, clogging up the pipe like retarded salmon, to read the latest announcements of the most trivial jerk-off products, completely ignoring the stories about technology actually making a difference to real human beings, because you wanted a new chromed robot turd to put in your pocket to impress your friends and make you forget for just a few minutes, blood coursing as you tremblingly cut through the blister pack, that your life is utterly void of any lasting purpose.

Then you had the audacity to complain about broken phones, half-assed firmware that bricked your gear, and winner-takes-nothing arms races between the companies whose gear your bought and the hackers who had nothing better to do than try to fix it. Do you realize how ridiculous that is? Programmers with free time did more to help you get quality products than you ever did by buying the broken gear in the first place.

Stop buying this crap. Just stop it. You don't need it. Wait a year until the reviews come out and the other suckers too addicted to having the very latest and greatest buy it, put up a review, and have moved on to something else. Stop buying broken products and then shrugging your shoulders when it doesn't do what it is supposed to. Stop buying products that serve any other master than you. Use older stuff that works. Make it yourself. Only buy new stuff from companies that have proven themselves good servants of their customers in the past. Complaining online about this stuff helps, but really, just stop buying it.

You want to know the punchline? The average Joe that makes up the market is smarter than you saps. The market-at-large waits until a clear leader emerges, then takes a modest plunge. You may think you're making up the "bleeding edge" of "gadget pimpatude" but you're really just a loose confederation of marks the consumer electronics industry uses as free market research and easy money. "Give me the latest version," you coo, hiking up your skirt another inch over your exposed wallet. "Point Oh One upgrades make me so hot."

And for god's sake, Gizmodo, stop giving this stuff such a free pass. Stop using terminology that they've programmed into you by puking it into your eyeballs via press release after press release. What is this "unleashes" horseshit, Deleon? You're not in marketing. Don't write like you are. This is obviously a not a real product, Frucci. Did you even read the site you linked? Are you actually writing boosterism-filled copy about products that don't actually exist? Oh my god, Wilson, you're writing about that house-printing machine? I wrote about that almost three years ago. (You get a slight pass because I couldn't find my old link in Google because of Gawker's inexplicable "Wheel O' Permalink Syntax," but still, you guys are supposed to be well-versed experts about technology. You should know about this stuff. The C in "Gizmodo" is for "some fucking context," which you should provide, even if you only get paid per cock joke.)

While we're on the subject of your torpid, irresponsible copy, stop calling stuff "*tastic." Especially "geektastic," your slackest-jawed portmanteau. Would you drop that bon mot to a woman you were trying to hit on in real life? Of course you would, because I know you guys, and you're dorks.

Get it together: every single one of these consumer electronics companies should be approached as the enemy. They work for us. Hold their feet to the fire when they say their product is going to change even a small part of our lives. Circle back again in six months when they're shilling the incremental upgrade and ask them why the last version didn't cut the mustard. Step out of your blogging trench and ask yourself what your responsibility is to the tens of thousands of idiots who are reading this site right now to determine what they should spend their next paycheck on. They've already proven they're too imbicilic to make any smart purchases on their own. (Remember, Gizmodo was a nexus of debate over which MP3 player was going to "kill" the iPod two years after Apple won.) If you write like another stupid fanboy who ricochets a pillar of spunk off the roof of his gaping mouth just because something is glossy and uses electricity, you're just doing the work of the companies trying to get rich selling us broken promises.

Ah. I feel better. Didn't help a thing, but I feel better, and I'm what's important here.

February 14, 2007

Oh Valentino, Oh My

Oh Valentine's. I swore upon my life the last few weeks that every Wednesday would be Pink Shirt Wednesday since Mondays didn't work for me. So I was very good at it the last few weeks. You can already see where this is going, don't you. I am freakin' predictable, aren't I.

So I wear all brown.

How horrible is that. And to top it off, I have a pink shirt at work, but it clashes so horribly with my pants I can't do it. I wear a pink flower instead. Sad.

At any rate, Happy Valentine's day to my special Voodoo Babies all over the world. How I love you so. And for those of you who are in love, yippee. For those of you who aren't, well, goody for you. No traps, no forced dinners (Mango and I had chinese food at the kitchen table. I snacked on left over biscuits from KFC. That's sexy Valentine's Day at Chez Voodoo.

Poetry writing is going well. Some nights I'll crank out 3, some only 1. Some nights, no lie, only ZERO. But I don't know if I'll bust out 50, but at the very least I'll have poems I'm happy with, right?

I have a special token of love for you all, something that I hope will make you laugh or maybe not, but at the very least, check it out. Comments in the comments. You know the drill.

Voodoo (V is for Valentine's and D is for Day, snark) 

February 05, 2007

WHY GOD WHY!

718.746.0087

 

That is all.

Voodoo 

February 04, 2007

Revising my plan

Okay. I have a confession to make. 100 poems is too much. I tried in the last few nights to crank out 3 a night, but I just can't do it. I thought about it too...50K words of a story is aight. I can knock that out for reals because each word contributes, and it's about quantity, right? You can tell a story in that way.

But poetry demands precision, careful thought, and a modicum of expression that I just cannot rush through. I tried it and rushed poetry is better off not written. Period. I won't sacrifice quality for quantity.

So I'm going to halve that. 50. I think I can handle that. I have struggled with this since day one. I started off with one poem, a sestina, that took me two hours to write. TWO. I wanted to cry it took me so long, but I was determined to do it, so I did. 2 HOURS!

I bumped off two of them last night as well. All in all, I have five so far. I think I can do 50. We'll see how I do on the 28th.

This is the plan that I've come up with so far: 

January: Fiction

February: Poetry

March: Photography (Digital)

April: Video

May: Non-fiction

June: Painting

July: Break, my god.

August: Photography (35MM)

September: Music

October:  Manifesto

November: TBA (possibly fiction again)

December: Merge all projects into one project, possibly for show. 

That's my plan, I guess. I don't know how good I will be at sticking to it, but I plan on doing a goodly amount of it. I promised myself that 2007 was the year of creativity. 2008 will be the year of sloth.

Much love!

Voodoo 

February 02, 2007

99 to go.

So I wrote one poem today. I don't know if I just cursed myself by only doing one...I know I'll have to step up my game a little this weekend to make up for lost time.

I tried a sestina. One of my faculty members mentioned it to me and had me all in a bunch trying to figure out how to write one. At the very least I don't think I"ll try to write another one this month. That was fucking HARD. Took me like 2 hours.

Anyway, 99 to go.

Voodoo