BlackBerry Nightmares

I just bought a blackberry curve at regular retail value because I was not eligible for an upgrade. I really did need the phone this time. I had already broken 3 cheap replacements and was tired of holding phones together with masking tape. I figured if I just put the money up and get the blackberry it might be the last phone I will have to buy for a while. and I was cool with my purchase. I haven’t dropped it yet. I’ve only had it since valentines day but for me that’s a good start (hoping not to jinx myself and drop it on my way out of the door)

So tonight, I came to the library to do some pre-spring break cramming and of course I easily got sidetracked and started doing everything except what I need to and came across this article:

http://arstechnica.com/journals/apple.ars/2008/02/26/texas-university-giving-freshmen-iphones-and-ipod-touches

WHAT THE FUCK!!! I COULD HAVE GOT AN iPHONE TACKED ON TO MY TUITION!!!!
I know I picked the wrong school. I know I did. I love it here but they’re just not working for me right now! A FREE iphone I didn’t even want an iphone until I knew they were giving them away for free just for going to college. ARE YOU SERIOUS! After I just spent $*** on a blackberry.

So pissed @ my school for not having this program,

KD

Contact High

I get it! You like to smoke weed. Fine. Whatever. I just have one question, Why do you feel the need to fill our entire hallway with weed smoke? Whatever happened to hot-boxing a car? Going for a long walk? Blowing the smoke out of the fucking window?

Why must we all get high because you do? I should be able to walk to my room without feelings like an extra on half baked. You shouldn’t be smoking that much weed where I can get high just from walking 20 feet away from your room. Its crazy. You might have a problem. I would bet money that if you could OD on weed you would be dead right now! and I wouldn’t come to the funeral. Because I would probably get super high after they open your door.

But your a very nice person.

Trying to come down,

KD

8 mintues to sunrise

Aren’t my titles catchy? I’ve been saving this one since the summer and secretly wanted to name a facebook album but I never had perfect set of pictures that embodied all that the title meant to me. I’ll still use it. It’s trendy to recycle now. GO GREEN! Some recycle fuel and paper. I recycle catchy blog titles. That is beside the point.

This weekend started like most. Me trying to convince myself that I would stay locked in my dorm getting ahead of my work. And it ended pretty much the same, me watching Sunday morning sunlight through my off-white dust colored vertical blinds, with my mind still wanting to dance drunkenly to music that is hidden behind the mute button of my laptop. I fight sleep a lot. Especially, when I’ve had a few drinks. I need to see, to experience, to live, to move, to not sleep. And only submit to sleep when there is nothing left for my brain or body to do. The broken Bacardi glass on my floor was a pleasant distraction from sleep at 6 am. Not really. The thought of glass and blood scare me. Especially, when it’s my blood.

But this is not about my drinking, my insomnia, or my procrastination…

This is about perception and observation. A lobby filled with thespians. No not lesbians, although there were a few gays in attendance. Thespians. Yes, all shapes, colors, creeds. Intoxicated and floating. And me. Comfortable in corner and watching. Perceiving. Being drunk, but not unaware of my surroundings. High fives and flip cup couldn’t drown out the sexual tension that was in the air. And for once none of it was mine. I would not cling to any of the drunken and gyrating bodies in that lobby to save your life. I just watched and sipped, slowly. Would easily trade the darkness of 3 am just to see how this room full of thespians and gays would interact at noon or just a few hours past that. It baffled and baffles me. And I can’t find the right arrangement of metaphor or similes to tell you of the “looseness” that filled that lobby. I felt like I was apart of some orgy. Better yet a gang rape.

No, even better than that was like watching a hunting show.Oh, the prey. The poor poor prey. How the walk and drink and strip unsuspectingly. For them this is normal. And the hunters wait. Sip slowly. Pretending to feel the same woozy. It’s never the same woozy and its easier to detect after you’ve drank you share. There is a freedom and difference between drunk and pretending. And I am never that drunk. So I can detect and I watch as a pat on the shoulder, becomes one of the small of the back, and then becomes a few lewd and questionable comments, and this is where I say goodnight.

Well, not to sleep but to a place where the air smelled familiar. To watch a lion pounce on a gazelle is not my cup of tea. It’s best to let people animals eat in private. I would expect the same respect.

I don’t really know my reason for writing this. It’s just funny to watch people fall out of themselves or pretend to. To watch them become their loud, and belligerent, true self, to push the limits of the deceiving night sky, pretending the sun is not hours or minutes from the horizon. I can’t do it. I can’t support the taking of someone’s reality for my own personal gain. And this is more than a white lie. This is a trickery of the sense and the flesh, of someone’s piece of mind. Rape.

It’s something that I will never condone or understand. Why would you want someone’s affection under false pretenses? If someone thought highly enough of you to give their body to you why would you not want them to be in a position to remember it or enjoy. Or in the reverse. Wouldn’t only want to give yourself to someone who was truly willing to receive you with clearness of mind and body. Isn’t that what’s most beautiful about sex. Both people actually being interested in what is going on. Consenting to give the other a piece of their body, and soul, and sensuality. and all that not to say that having sex while under the influence is not fun. But without the consent or want or attraction. Its pointless. It’s sad. And you wonder why I have no faith in love. Because people are sick and flawed. Yes. I am one of them. But never have I thought of using coercion to get the affection of another. Here is another reason. For me not to drink. I just know that from now on when I go out and booze are involved. I will keep a closer eye on those who are with me. And to not party with Thespians or gays. They’re fucking weird. I’ll still with the shallow and trendy. They’re more my speed. (I know that was horrible).

Shaking my head, but not to fast because I might hurl,


KD

If I wasn't for

There is something to be said about Sunday. It makes no difference if your a believer in God or not. There is a power in Sunday, a sort of cosmic humbling, an inexplicable rest, a need for preparation, a 5 more minuets please feeling that is attached to it. For me it was fostered in early morning rising. The rush, and yelling, and late of going to church. The 3rd to last pew on the right side of church. The knowing that whatever hand you held when your head was bowed in prayer traces of her ran though it and it was love. The gentle familiar squeeze of a cousin or an aunt. It was feeling of “I belong here” and “it’s ok”, and hymns, and the pulse of the drums as uplifted voices ushered in the presence of God. It was the 7th day. And on it we should rest.

Now the 7th day represents something different. It’s no longer the rush to church and uplifted voices, now it’s the rush to the bathroom to uplifted toilet seats. And still after the stomach settles and the room stops spinning. There is still that calm. The need for reflection and silence. And home. And family.

And if it wasn’t for these memories and moments. I don’t know who I would be. I’m still trying to find a balance between the youth and the spiritually. Believing only on Sunday mornings it’s not good for my faith. And its sad to think that I might have to pencil in God. Wonder if He feels that way about me.

They say the first step is admitting you have a problem….

Trying to rediscover faith,

KD

Goodnight Mama...

Slick Rick’s bedtime story was my all time favorite until this one…


">


Im trying not to make a habit of posting video’s but, I can’t help myself! This shit is pure comedy.

Watching the Grammy Awards and avoiding homework,

KD

Dancing in the rain...

I’ve just noticed how out of touch I can become at any given moment with the emotions of the people around me. It’s not that I mean to. Well, not all of the time. Sometimes its best if I am left alone with my own problems its just best that way, but I do really mean to be there for my friends, my family. Especially in their times of need. Even if I don’t always have the words to comfort or empower, I know how important an nonjudgmental ear can be. I wish I even now that I had words to tell you how sorry I am for my lack of support. I can’t. There are no words. I was wrong, I hope you accept my apology. I want you to know that I admire each of you for the strength that you possess. I wish a sliver of that resided within me. I wish I was brave enough to face each day with a fighting spirit that pushes and allows you to radiate strength in your moments of weakness. I can’t think of of how to encourage the people that encourage me. I wish I had some scriptures that I could recite to you right now. I don’t. Maybe I should read my bible. Maybe that’s where the answer to all our problems is. I’m not brave enough to look. Afraid of what I might find. What If I gave you a mirror and told you to look your self in the eyes and see how great of a person you are. Force you to see yourself as I do. Brilliant. Beautiful. Battered. Bruised. Smiling. Perfectly Damaged. Perfection. Maybe I should look in a mirror. Validation might be healthy at this moment. That’s probably all you needed in the first place. A shoulder to comfort and understand. To wrap you tightly and pat you to sleep to let you know your not alone it the world. And your not. Not as long as I live. Even when I’m not in arms reach. So, dance in the rain. let the rain hide your tears. Scream with thunder. Let lighting share you frustration. Dance like no ones watching. Splash. and run. and sing.and cry. and remember. and forget. and I’ll be there with you. This time will be different we will share the dance and comfort one another and it will not be in vain, but a mutual feeling of love and respect. I take that back. Just watch me dance in the rain. and I’ll dance until my feet refuse to hold me anymore. and you. and I. and we will be alright.

Escaping the rain and dodging phenomia,


KD

I Resign

I resign from being the person you expect me to be. Yes, its easier and sometimes a bit more fun, but this person, the one I allow you to see is only a small fraction of a fraction of who and what I really am. No more sidekick status for your insecurity, and not that I don’t have my own its just you never let me get that far, but no more. and not because you’ve done anything wrong. Its just not right for me. Not now. Not tomorrow or the next day. I resign the fear of failure. The self doubt that stops you from leaping from cliffs to soar amongst the clouds, with potential to be something higher. I resign judgment of you. I can’t walk that path. My feet are too big and well you path is a little to narrow (take that however you want it). I resign the voyeur in me. No more sideline watching and wondering. Can’t trade post cards for sand between your toes. I guess. I resign my indecisiveness. Maybe not. Ask me tomorrow. I can own this. or can I? Who know? I think I do. Its a more difficult that a yes or no answer. So maybe I won’t resign it. Just put it on hiatus so that the rest can be dealt with in a timely matter. Yeah.

Trying to decide if I’m done writing or if it made sense for that matter,

KD

Lupe, The Cool, and the trouble with ringtones

You know when you hear a cd for the first time there is always a song that when you hear it gently grabs you by the wrists and begs you hit repeat. and repeat. and repeat. until the words are familiar ABC’s or CBA’s. I have that very obsession “The Coolest” a song on . and I don’t know why. other than the fact that its catch. and Lupe is a lyrical genius. and it uses the n-word like 50 million times. and I told my self that I would stop using but that was before I heard that song. and then I thought to myself what if I could have the chorus shouted proudly from my phone every time i received a call. So I bough it. Oh, how disappointed I was. I would never imagine how much impact the n-word had on that song. like with it missing the song is waaaaaaaaayyyy less cool. It doesn’t have that same swagger that makes you want to put it on replay. It made me think that when people say they don’t listen to the words they only like the beat. they’re fucking liars. I take that back maybe people who study music can separate themselves from the words. the carefully crafted cadence of verbs and adjectives. But I can’t. I know that now. The vulgar and sometimes offensives lyrics are what spark something inside of us that makes you want to turn your car radio up all the way up and sing like no is watching. but you probably don’t have tinted windows so 9 times out of 10 they prob are. and I don’t even have a car. So When I’m walking down the street. and I paid 2.50 for that shit. I can let my phone ring with that rated g ring tone. WHAT A WASTE. THANK YOU AT&T for thinking you know whats best for me. THANK YOU! and before I go here is another music plug. Get Lupe in your life. One of the best decisions you will ever make. I promise!

Looking for un-edited ring-tones,

KD

It's only Thursday and the one

21 years and never a Valentine. Well, there was the one mysterious phone call my senior year of high school, but that was a different me. Though the package still looks the same the idea of love that’s nested inside of here is mature or maturing, to say the least. Not much has changed in the love life. I still haven’t found someone crazy enough to submit to my gotta be in control way of thinking about love. But, its Valentines day. And I’m not sad, or angry, or depressed, or any of those other emotions single people cling to on days like these to ease the pain of alone, because I’m not alone. Sexually frustrated maybe. Alone never. However, this year I will say that I actually wouldn’t mind a valentine. It might just be the catalyst I need to jump start my love life, but it would get old quick. What would really make this day more than just a Thursday is a phone call from “the one”. Have no idea how my number would fall in their lap, but lets just say that it did, and they called. It would make my day. And no I’m not asking for any commitment or sex. Just a chance to exchange conversation on a deeper one on one basis. Because I know the me that is sometimes broadcast in public is bi-polar to say the least. I just would love the chance for “the one” to get to know me. Or to show them that there is so much more beneath the surface. or I secretly hope that they already know and see me as I already am. but this is no fairy tale. and I don’t dream of happy endings. I only dream of me never having the understanding that I so desperately hope for. But its Thursday. Valentines Day. The day of Love. Fucking Thursday. and tomorrow Friday. and tomorrow will bring sunshine. and life will go on. and I will wait for that magical random phone call from “the one”. and count the money I save from being single on Thursday. Valentines Day. The day of love.

Waiting for something,

KD

My Grammy Re-Cap

They were boring….As usual, but I couldn’t stop watching. I did however mute the TV a few times and talk to the moms. I wish I would have written this last night. My memory would have been fresher. But I do remember that Tina Turner had no neck, and thinking that’s Beyonce in 50 years. John Legend had to play on a fisher price piano (pretty sad). Aretha Franklin. Yellow. Birds. School Bus. She had a neck but its lost somewhere underneath the excess weight (I assume that will be Kelly in 50 years) Amy Winehouse is a genius. A drunken crack head but a genius. A 5-time award winning drunken crack head genius. Kanye West is an asshole. Gods knows if my mother died I would want someone to feel my pain and I would want to pay tribute to her. but if you really believe that your mother is an angel I’m pretty sure shes watching you more than just at the Grammys save it for you bedtime prayer. But I like the battery-pack jacket. Won’t catch me wearing one anytime soon but its still nice. Alica Keys sang to many songs. and why did she bring John Mayer on stage if he was only going to sing background. What a waste! Why did the show have a built in reality contest. I don’t care about those people. when did they get famous or nominated. Why didn’t Ledisi win any awards? Why didn’t they let Jill preform? That Beetles thing was weird but now I want to watch Across the universe. After 10 grammy’s they should stop letting people win. like Alicia Keys. Where the hell did Morris Day come from and doesn’t he look like Rhianna’s daddy (if I spelled her name wrong so what?). I don’t remember any rappers being apart of the show. Bring back Outkast. I think they gave out like 6 awards that’s pretty sad for a 3 hour show. and why did Herbie Hancock win album of the year? I don’t know 50 people who bought that album. Amy Winehouse rocked but it was live from London and that’s no fun. She looks like her mother. and it reminds me that time is not your friend. Carrie Underwood is dry like a turkey sandwich on wheat bread in the desert during a drought and so was that other country guy. Fergie can’t sing, and I still can’t get over John Legend on the tiny ass piano. I skipped doing homework for that. Now I feel like a loser.But I’m not.

Waiting for Erykah Baud’s new Cd to drop,

KD

Live From Paris

Jill, Jill, Jill, Jill Scott!!!!

There are few people in the music industry (or world) that can do what this woman does on a consistent basis. She makes music that fills up you like home cookin’, sprinkled with a wisdom that is only found on front porches filled with grey haired elders, warmed by Sunday morning self-reflection, served with a savory undeniable sensuality and eroticism that one can only learn with age, and finished by a nurturing tone that reminds you that everything will be alright, despite the situation. I can’t say enough about Jill. I’ve had the pleasure of seeing her in concert TWICE (with hopes of a third over spring break), and each time is just as magical as the first(imagine if you could lose your virginity each time minus the awkwardness). When she’s on stage, Ms. Scott has the power to wrap you in her words and forces you to share the experience. That’s a true artist! I now have the chance to share that with you. Watch the clip and tell me Jill is not mean on the microphone. And no I don’t work for Jill’s promo team but I dare anyone to buy one of her Cd’s and not become an instant fan.

Groovin’

KD

Creepy Crawly Humans

Have you ever met a person annoyed you to your core. I mean the very sound of their vocal cords vibrating sends an instant sensation of irritation through your soul like, if you were to see this person from a mile away you feel your mood becoming dim, as if they sucked the smile off you face. I HAVE MET THAT PERSON, and I feel a tad bit bad because I don’t really know them, but at the same time if I were given the opportunity to I would gladly decline. I feel like I’m twelve. I just can’t help it that I get annoyed so easily. This perfectly sunny afternoon in February is ruined. Stained by the presence of the unwanted. THIS IS WHY I AM IN FAVOR OF ABORTION!(that may have been to much, but so what) We even share the mutual friends. but I don’t know how much longer I can put up with that. Just thinking about them makes my skin crawl. GEEZ! but enough about things that upset me. I got paid today! and my taxes come in on Monday so I am uber excited about that. I can finally catch up on the thing that seems to make me most happy GOING BROKE!. Tonight is another shot chaser Friday, except this time I will be mindful of my intake. Saturday brings work and party, Sunday is always to refocus, then back to the weekly hustle.

Getting Familiar….

K D

Its written all over your face (staff meetings)

Before reading this please refer back to the entry “No Apology Required”.

Yesterday, I spent the better part of what had shaped up to be a pretty good day in a BULLSHIT ASS MEETING. I told you before about my job here at school, and how I don’t really do anything, and that I get paid, and I’ve been doing it for 3 years. Well, now in light of my recent altercation with the Easter bunny face bitch they decided to become a little more strict and have rules, because they want us to become more well-rounded individuals and know how to survive in the “real world”. Whatever. If that meeting is what the “real world” is like than I gladly decline. Because what I’ve learned is that in the real world no one really likes their co-workers and are only concerned with them when they are preforming their job at a less than satisfactory manor. That as soon as one co-worker leaves the office it is time for the rest of the office to talk about them. That confidentiality never really exist because no one cares and its all the same as gossip to them. That myspacing and text messaging is also just as addictive to people who are 30 and single and wack (special shot out the bunny face bitch). But most importantly in the real world no one says how they really feel. They have meetings and tip-toe around the issues and pretend that everything is cool with out direct confrontation but at the same time not solving anything. Nothing at all. Just wait for the meeting to be over and start the same vicious cycle over the very next day. Is this really what I came to college to learn. How to be conniving and manipulative. How to be unhappy and in debt with a master’s. Wow! I see now why people are oppose conformity, and now I am inclined to agree. I would like to think the best way to solve a problem is to face it head on. and I’m not saying that I’m a very confrontational person, however If i feel deeply about something than I won’t silence myself behind meetings and pointless handouts. Lets not waist that much time. and plus I’m not that good at the faking attitude. I wear my emotions all on my face and they can tell you far more than any words that I say. I don’t even realize it until someone brings it to my attention. Ok ok. The moral of this story is that, the real world is full of frauds. Angry people afraid to be angry and try and make me go to meetings that could have been solved the first time if the bunny faced bitch just let me curse her out. Please stop me if I sound a bit immature, its just how I feel.

Learning and Growing

K

One time to many...

I’m 21. I’m in college. I drink. So What? It’s not a crime. I don’t think. I’m pretty sure its not. But, whatever that’s not the point. This weekend I had another horrific experience with drinking. This one was not as bad as the last but it was enough to make me question my alc. tolerance level. I’ve always been pretty good and judging my intake. I know how to drink just enough to get “there” (stumbling, before becoming totally belligerent) and then coast from that point to the next morning without the death feeling that is attached to a hang over. I wish that was the case Friday night. I don’t even remember drinking that much. I just know that I was left with 2 empty 20 oz. coke bottles and a sliver of Bacardi left in the fridge. And I was gone, like sloppy over the top drunkeity drunk drunk and it was embarrassing to say the least. i was so drunk I puked twice and never even made it into the club, and I always make it into the club. I was left in the back seat of a focus forced to sleep drunk off. Its sad I know…Maybe this weekend I’ll drink less. Maybe I won’t even go out. I would swear it but, I’m not a fan of empty promises. The End.

One step away from rehab,

KD