everything short of wearing hoods and yelling "white power!"

check out this article:
http://www.heraldnet.com/article/20090614/NEWS01/706149860&news01ad=1

it's about the only article i could find on the matter of the minutemen project's massacre (incomplete) of the flores family. the mother survived the attack, and the older daughter was not home when the incident occurred. it's very surprising that there are not too many articles i could find, covering the subject. i had to go through someone else's blog to find one. also of significant remarkability is the fact that the minutemen are considered an activist group. that, to me, is completely preposterous. i ask myself, "do activists rob people at gunpoint?" "do activists break into people's homes and murder them?" i can't say that i can think of any activist group that does. i could think of an "activist group" that preys upon and terrorizes minorities (or at least they used to, now i think they just smuggle drugs and have town hall meetings to stir up anti-minority sentiment). the group of which i speak wears hoods, has leaders called grand dragons, and yells "white power!" a lot, but if i'm not mistaken, this group isn't really an activist group...

...the voice of God

not too many people know of this story because it's not one i tell too lightly, or too often for the matter (and to be more accurate). nevertheless, i once had a brush with God-like powers.

it all started back my freshman year of college, during second semester. it was a new semester, and not because of the new year. nope. that happens every 365 days. this semester was new because i had just switched from a computer science major to a biology major (can anyone say, "ahh! so here's where all the girls went..."?). needless to say, i was much appreciative of the change of scenery in the classrooms and labs. to get on to the more relevant details, i feel that i much first introduce a few key points about setting : (1) one of my best friends and i (we'll just call him a-jizzle, for reference sake and to protect his identity) were more or less inseparable that semester, (2) we were both ferocious party animals, (3) it was mid winter in the midwest, and (4) i was stuck in a frozen-over ocean of cornfields (some people may identify this particular place as one of the lesser known states--simply, iowa). being the ravenous pursuers of debauchery that we were, we never went many nights of the week without being at a party, or at least the semblance of a social function if there was alcohol involved. and this night was no different. it was a house party, typical scene for freshman year, with kegs and lots of drunk and not so drunk universitarians ready to unleash the pent up frustrations of trudging through snow and ice for a week in order to get to place of supreme bliss at which we could only arrive by the good graces our great friend al (mr. cohol that is). the party was nothing remarkable, there were a few people we know, plenty of random guys to ignore, and a several chicks whose acquaintances we didn't mind making. i set my aim on one girl in particular, and while i can't remember her name, i can remember certain details about her personality. she was nice, and sweet, and several other similar adjectives that you can use your imagination to think of. that's neither here nor there. what i noticed about her was that she was a) fairly attractive (definitely a 2 on the 2 point system), b) not sober, and c) had sizable breasts. i knew the girl but had never had any real conversation with her, so i took this opportunity to rectify the lack thereof. i went up and said hello, and she gave the ecstatic i'm-drunk-and-glad-to-see-you "hey" that people give when they're drunk and excited to see someone. i saw this as a plus. we started conversation, small talk really, before moving on to heavier issues.

"i'm tired of guys who only try to talk to me because of my body!" she exclaimed after a guy walked past and stares unabashedly at her chest.

"you're body? what are you talking about?"

"you know... what's the first thing you notice when you saw me."

i'd been waiting for an opportunity like this, and so i replied, "your eyes of course. they're blue and beautiful."

she smiled, blushed, and tilted her head a little to the side. looked me right in the eyes and said, "awww, thanks. you're so sweet." i was glowing. and with the warmth of that moment, i could have sworn i felt a little piece of her heart melt into mine.

"so sweet" is probably what many of you reading this are thinking, while contrarily others are thinking, "what bullshit, " and "what bullshit" is correct. i had very little game back then, else i would have said what was very obvious and made some clever comments to follow, making her laugh. we all know that nice guys finish last (to be oh so cliché), but that's another story all together.

so the girl and i talked a little more, and i felt like i was making good progress. progress towards what, was what any 19 college kid would've been striving for, with a certain set of intellectual skills, with his logic fueled by lust and liquor. inevitably i ran out of beer and had to go make a trip to the keg. trying to mentally wade through the interminable 10 minutes it takes to get from the back of the line at the keg to the front and refill my cup, i was running through what i could say or do to better my already assured position--so i perceived--with my quarry. i had just retanked my ambrosia and was heading back to what i knew would the be the "seal the deal" moments, when i heard a raucous cheering, wild whistling included. i walked over to see what the commotion was about, and there it was. my my-aren't-you-so-sweet girl in full on make-out session with a burly looking half-giant. the shock of that sight rendered me understandably nonplussed, as i muttered to myself, "what the fuck..." i quickly drained my cup, and headed back to the fountain of youth. fortunately there weren't but a few people standing around, in the vicinity of, the keg, and i unquestioningly assumed they weren't really in line, or if they were they didn't want to be while i was trying to make my way through. i homed straight to the tap, reached out my party flask, and demanded boisterously, to make sure i was heard over the crowd, even though the cheers had since died down, "more beer!" as liquid gold started filling my cup, i hear from my left, and slightly behind me, "OH SHIT! YOU'RE ROD, THE VOICE OF GOD!!!" i turned slowly, the crowd turned, heads poked out from around the corner of the kitchen door, all to regard, with shock and awe, my apotheosis. i had let the phrase go to my head before even critically analyzing the depth of such a statement.

"yes. i am the voice i God." i reasoned with myself. "i can just turn back the last few minutes and make everything right!" then the visage of my angel registered in the sober section of my brain, and i recognized him for what he truly was, just another random party-goer. just like me. i felt my confidence drop down through my neck, bursting through my chest, and shattering my heart into 1000 tiny red fragments. but still, who was this guy? there was an awkward moment, a very long awkward moment. as i just stare at they guy, and the not so harsh realization that nothing grand would occur fell on the surveyors of the scene. i tried to moved, but for one reason or another i could not escape the gaze of my would-be angel. i stared at him, and he at me. the tension, of what has probably become the most significant exemplification of how to freak-out one on whome you have a man-crush, was finally shattered when one of my classmates and hang-out buddies, joe appeared seemingly out of nowhere and laughed uncontrollably. it was as if someone had put the needle back on track, and the music started to play once more in the discordant symphony that was my mind. i looked confusedly at joe, and he obliged to explain. apparently someone in my biology class had jokingly made the comparison of my voice sounding like God, so a few people had started to refer to me as, none other than, "rod, the voice of God."

Psalm for my Sister

this is the poem i wrote my sister for her graduation, since i couldn't be there in person...

Psalm for my Sister

if you were a tree, to make my embrace,

i would grow the largest, doing much

as any leaf does, when bathed in the sun

gathering rays for nourishment and love.

none would absorb more warmth than me,

while you withdraw water from the ground,

vitamins and minterals, growing branches

out further and farther to hold us all down.

i’d see more than any, being your biggest leaf.

if you were stargazing, your mind reaching

out to the stars at night, pinpoints of light

seeping down through darkness and piercing

your sight to home visions behind your eyes,

i would be the largest constellation in the sky,

a glimmering armor-clad knight with buckler

swinging out, blocking away shadowy tufts

and a sword striking at the moon, turning

it’s dark side away, so you could see it shine.

or you could gaze at the sky during the day,

and i would be a cumulus and make shapes,

like so many ridiculous balloon animals with

soft fluffy edges, powdery white, waving

across the horizon, like an old snuggly blanket

slowly floating down over you from the sky.

if i were a hamster stuck in a wire cage,

i would share it, if you got stuck too,

my exercise wheel and hamster maze,

all colors and twists, loops and rounds,

running so many circles until we got out.

if i were a bird soaring, saw you in unsteady

flight, i would give you one of my wings,

sing you a song, each beat to the rhythm,

to help you reach the breeze and fly free.

if i were your brother, if you were my sister

i would tell you how very much you meant,

to the world, to your family, to your friends.

i would make you laugh when you were down,

i would hang onto words, and grab onto ideas,

glad that you would share apart of your world,

feeling the crush in my chest from your heartaches,

suffering stabs in my skull from your headaches,

smiling like i found diamonds in glittering eyes,

when happiness escapes from your glowing face.

though we were not born of the same seed or blood,

or place, we have indeed grown of the same mind,

not biologically related, but still in kind: you are my

psychological sister, of the heart, and of the soul,

my golden sister in this life, as our times unfold.

rain boots

it has come to my astute attention over the last couple of years that some members of the chapel hill community have deemed themselves above ridicule of social ineptitude and decided that wearing rain boots is a totally agreeable fashion statement. now, i know you're thinking to yourself, "why does it matter if they wear rain boots? they're just kids. right?" wrong. they are not "just kids." these are fully formed adult human beings who for an inane reason i can't wrap my head around walk around in rain boots, as if that's what's hot these days. let me clear something up. neither is wearing rain boots cute, nor is it socially acceptable among self-respecting adults. in fact, i would go so far as to say that above the age of 8, there is absolutely no reason to wear rain boots. i'm sure you could think of any number of arguments, such as fishermen wearing fishing boots. well they're fishermen. it's part of their fishing wardrobe, just as cops wear starched polyester blue shirts with shiny yellow badges. now it's not that i'm just saying this to be spiteful, but it's objectively infantile when 22 year olds walk around campus, while the sun is shining brightly, with knee high rubber boots and think that they're not committing a social misstep (tangent: some people would have used "faux-pas," the french word for misstep, but i for one am not a fan of inserting random, or not so random, foreign words into an english sentence).

case in point. a couple weeks ago, it rained early in the morning, but the forecast was sunny for the majority of the day. no reason to wear rain boots for an hour or two when the sun's going to be brilliant for the rest of the day. right? wellll, while i'm out and about, on campus of course, what do i see but a socially self-righteous member of the "i'm going to wear rain boots even though i'm a grown woman" club. it was clearly not raining, and the sun was ostensibly shining. so, in order to oblige her need to wear those rain boots, i summarily bumped into her and knocked her into a mud puddle. she had the nerve to give me an indignant look when i was obviously doing her a favor, because hey, she had to use those rubber boots for something.

response to tiffany's "reading in bed"

this is my response to tiffany's "reading in bed". preface: tiffany and i went to undergrad together, and she was (i suppose still is) a cool girl. but anyhows... here's the link http://accordingtojovan.wordpress.com/2009/05/03/sexy-equals-reading-in-bed
truth be told, i think it’s a bit different for guys on the whole physical front. and that’s not to say for all guys, but let’s make a generalization (not an over-generalization). guys have a certain, shall we say, threshold over which a girl has to be attractive, and depending on how much above that threshold she indicates how satisfied he is with her physically. that being said, looks only last so long. the more time you spend with someone you like, the better that person looks. common knowledge. right? anyhows, it’s always the conversation that gets me personally. it’s soooo hard to find someone who can make good conversation. a good conversationalist is not an urbane entity. the good conversationalist, redundancy to emphasize the point, is rare and invaluable. there are dozens of good looking people all around you (well, depending on where you are). that doesn’t mean that they can talk attractively just because they look that way…

what i discovered on my last trip to chicago

1. one doesn't necessarily get kicked out of a bar/club for only trying to go to sleep

2. storing one's jacket with those of strangers is not a good idea (i.e. use the ever-loving coat check)

3. asking a girl to be one's next baby's momma actually works as a pickup line, as long as one doesn't actually utter the phrase "baby's momma"

4. married women do things when they're out that would probably lead me to choking my wife. that is if i had a wife, and if i discovered said wife did what some of the married women did, whom i met in chicago

5. chapel hill is not quite as diverse as i would like it to be

better than crack!

today... it was awesome (in a good way) and terrible, all at the same time. many of you know that i'm on my "spring break: six pack or bust" campaign. that being said, i'm into heavy and light lifting, and i'm taking all kinds of supplements at the moment. well tonight, i came across a combination that must rival cocaine in its capacity to get you WIRED. i mean, i felt like "fuck superman flying around in a cape, i'm america's next super hero in gym shorts and a sweaty workout tee." i just knew i could lift any amount of weight (disproven summarily when i almost blew my knee out on doing my second set of leg pressing 720 lbs), i could come up with more than brilliant ideas, i could pick up any chick i saw. in short, i felt all-capable, and also slightly invincible.

being at the gym, i accordingly finished my work out, and decided to test the wonders of my new found powers. so, i step up to the first attractive girl i see. i look into her eyes. i smile. she smiles... then i quickly side-step her and continue on my merry way. my brain is running on jet fuel, so quickly are my thoughts running through my head that anything clever i think to say is too fleeting to grasp. so much for being better than superman...