NSFW… or is it??

- julian

kassie kicks monsters ass

kick what?

-julian

It’s “spoken word,” not “spoken, word?!”

Open Mic yesterday was a nice culmination of song, poetry, and rap (aren’t they all poetry anyway?). Actually, “nice” is almost an insult, and it’s wrong of me to use such an ambiguous word. It was creative beyond belief, and as far as I’m concerned, a bunch of people were inspired to contribute to maybe the next open mic. It was well-written, and I was the n00b of the situation, but it’s cool, it was an interesting experience that definitely did not satiate my hunger of spoken word.

However, despite my “n00b” status as a slam poet, one thing seriously bothers me whenever I watch Youtube or Google videos of other spoken word. Maybe it’s not my place just yet to criticize, but even a complete and utter amateur such as myself knows when someone’s spoken word was just for the sake of rapping words other than curses. Maybe it’s just my preference of poetic flavor, but I can’t stand it when people just blurt out strings of long words that rhyme. “Laterally collateral unreal reality, political interactions, total fatality.” (totally made that up on the spot) I mean, it sounds cool and might make sense after staring at it long enough, but WHAT THE HELL DOES IT MEAN?! I mean, real true poetry doesn’t need strings of big words to look cool. Sure, you can have a decent vocabulary, but look up the words and make sense before you use them.

I’m also bothered by the interpretation that all spoken word is rap. Sure, it can have a lot of rap, but spoken word is what it is: spoken word. It’s a culmination of devices to create almost a song of poetry, sans music.

Just had to get that out of my system.

- Therese

To Forge More Memories

I’m graduating soon.

There are roughly three months left before I officially move on to the last stage of my formal education – college. And recently, it’s hit me quite hard: not all of my friends will take the same path I will. The fork in the road has always been just ahead; the problem is, now I can actually see it. For this reason, I really want to spend good time with my friends now, in this final stretch before college. Sure, this is an old topic many will likely touch upon in the near future, but everyone’s got their own take on it. Here’s mine:

I realized the immediate importance of getting this chill time in this past Friday night, at Military Ball at the Sheraton-Newark. The event lasted about five hours, but its value was not limited to such a number. I had a fantastic time with all my friends (and uber-thanks to my dear Kirsten; awesomest date, much). The food sucked (was that rice just poured straight out of the bag?) and the DJ flipped some weak tracks and was off on his timing (“Walk It Out” at 11:45 p.m.? Was that our cue to leave the hotel?), but just maxin’ out with my friends was well worth the time I invested.

I really want to get some more of this chill time in, before we’ve all moved on. Once I transition into college, I know I’ll look back for the familiar faces, the faces of the people I have met at McNair Academic High School that have had a major impact on my life; really, I just love my people that much. That doesn’t mean they’ll all be there, though.

So before I take my leave, I’ll make it a point to be with everyone just one more time. If any of you, my friends, share my desire, don’t ever hesitate to let me know. I’m always down to forge more memories.

-Syed

Stop. Listen to the Beat.

“Know it sounds funny
But I just can’t stand the pain
Girl I’m leaving you tomorrow
Seems to me girl
You know I’ve done all I can
You see I begged, stole
And I borrowed

Ooh, that’s why I’m easy
I’m easy like sunday morning
That’s why I’m easy
I’m easy like sunday morning “

- Easy by Lionel Richie

Music inspired and home grown, the beats that you hear revolve around my life.

If you can feel the techno pulsing from my headphones, you know I’m feeling the ups rather than the downs. And when the nice line dancing song pops up, you know I’m down for some partying. Although sometimes, you’ll hear that R&B coming from my soul, you definitely know I’m in to someone. Maybe if you hear my motown beats coming through, my outtake on life is having it “easy.”

We rush so much to get everything done and take such a hard route in accomplishing our dreams, we never remember to slow down and listen to the beat of the world. The songs our friends are singing in their dreams or the vibrations of sound that our parents give off. The humming of the world at it’s peak and the “oohs” at it’s lowest.

Our lives follow the beats of our heart and of our destiny, the kindness of our voice or the shyness of our piano keys. And we can’t forget the jazzy beats of our walks or the heavy and strong flow of the RZA that inspires our aura and confidence. As we listen to each beat. We take a small step to understanding the flow of the lives of others, their passions and dislikes.

So, stop. Listen to the beat of your friends. And enjoy the music together.

- Jed

A Series of Unfortunate Events.

(Not talking about the movie OR book series.)

For those that really talk to me, you all know that I’ve been going through a roller coaster of drama. Personally, I never had a preference for it, and I always hated when I heard any drama whatsoever. Venting to all of my friends did wonders for my stress level, and all things considered (words and all) I’m doing better than expected, and I owe it all to my friends. Thanks guys.

But this post isn’t a thank you note to those that helped me along the way. This is more of a checkpoint. A note-to-self on a blog meant for many. I guess you could think of this as the “Watch Your Step” sign that wasn’t there until someone tripped. That person being me.

I’ve been insulted on many levels lately, and sure, I could mope about what slander came flying at my ear hatefully. I could mope that it came from the person I used to hold dear to me. But the fact of the matter is it won’t do a bit of good for me. Pain is the daughter of Life, and as they cross the streets of people’s lives, they go together, for fear of losing the other. (Hah. Wasn’t that poetic..)

I stand by what I said weeks ago, that I don’t deny that I loved him. Though beliefs can collide into a crescendo of “F**K” (for lack of a better word), I always stand by what I said. And sometimes, a series of unfortunate events is what it takes to understand what you truly set out to do in the first place, knocking down you and your obstacles until all that’s left is a single road, a green light, and if you’re lucky, a helping hand.

This could be interpreted as the near complete loss of the beacon of hope I had a year and a half ago. Or it could be interpreted as the little, minuscule beam of hope (the tiny, itty-bitty laser kind) that I have left. I prefer the latter because if there’s water in a glass, it’s still got something in it.

Conclusion? A mixture of the most ambiguous conclusions ever: Keep an open mind; forgive, but don’t forget; remember where you come from so that you know where you’re going; look both ways before you cross the street; and most importantly…

Smile. It’s the most powerful weapon human beings have.

- Therese

PS – You can scold me regarding this bad post whenever you want. I just wanted to contribute something.

work in progress

 

-julian 

this is art, too.

Totally biting off Julian, but this was once a mural at a Shell Station on Brunswick St. near Newark Ave. They painted over it two disgustingly ugly cartoon crying baby faces. It’s a crying shame. (No pun intended.)

- Therese

this is art.

-julian

California

I’ve never really known the importance of girls until recently.

Truthfully, I was never really close to girls because I felt like I didn’t fit in; I never thought myself pretty and skinny like they were, I never knew what kind of clothes to wear or how to put on eyeliner. I wasn’t that close to them, but often girls respected me because I had a ‘unique style’ and I was ‘my own person.’ I would have liked to believe those things were true, and back in the day, I let comments like that feed my hungry ego. But as I look back, I realized that my unique style was really just me dressing like a boy because I felt that I couldn’t compare, and that being my own person meant that I just never really hung out and did the things the other girls did. Girls were always a vicious and merciless species to me; I couldn’t deal with their stab-you-in-the-back type of games, so I distanced myself from most of them, save special handful whom I felt a kinship with.

So throughout my life I’ve been friends with mostly boys. During grammar school I was more interested in their make-believe games, full of adventure and saving the world, rather than jumping rope or pretending to be a Spice Girl. Friendships came easier to me with boys than with girls. There was less talking involved, more room for crudeness, which I was a fan of, and because I was often the only one they invested emotional time with (because boys certainly couldn’t talk about their feelings with other boys,) I ended up being much closer with them than others.

I have to note that the boys I’ve been close to over the years turned out to be more than the average guy. The journey through college has taught me that there are many boys who are nothing like the ones I grew up befriending. The boys I knew and loved were all more timid, more fun-loving, more innocent. Almost all were your typical nice guys… Guys that girls never noticed or guys who had never come out of their shells enough to be noticed. Little did I know that there were so many boys out there who’s idea of fun includes drinking, getting wasted, and being general assholes.


I guess that’s why I found my girls only recently. Though I was normally an outgoing person, living in college made me meeker and quieter. I found species of people I’ve only ever heard about in movies; I was lucky that my grammar school and high school had exceptionally amazing people. So I hung back, I laid low, and I stuck myself to the people I’ve known.

One friend, the girl who’s been my best friend since the womb, has proved herself to be as awesome as I always thought she was. It was certainly a process, going from seeing each other maybe twice a year to living with each other. I learned that she wasn’t always the person I thought she was, but I’ve grown accustomed to her ways and her personality, a personality that I hope rubs off on me a little bit. She’s the type who doesn’t take shit from anyone, while I’ve always been the type to let people step all over me. Her spunk has been working on me, and I’m less likely to let things go so easily.

Another friend, from high school, I’ve found a kinship with. We grew up in totally different areas, totally different families, and yet it seems we grew up to be such similar people. Granted, there are stark differences, but I find a comfort in talking to someone who can often be as sensitive as can be, someone who almost always puts herself before others, someone who is often as confused and hurt about certain issues that don’t seem too big to others.

Then there are new friends. One of them, I find such a simple happiness in knowing.. She’s one of those people who is so sweet and caring. And she also still sticks by ideas that might seem old-fashioned to other people. It doesn’t take away from her at all; it makes her that much more endearing. She’s the kind of person I just want to protect from the world, even though I know she’s been through her own shit.

Then the last one. The one who totally just walks to the beat of her own drum. Honestly, I’ve never known a person like her – she’s wild, she’s badass, she loves to party and she’s one of the sweetest people I know. I sort of wish that I had known her sooner; her friendship, I believe, could have help me salvage a couple of friendships I’ve lost over the years. She’s certainly so taboo; she does things that I would never even dream of doing, but she never pressured me into joining her at all. And if I wanted to, she always made sure I was protected and comfortable. She amazes me often, because for someone who seems so stereotypically bad, she has a huge heart. She’s the kind of person who throw herself into danger to sacrifice herself for her friends.

Recently, she told us she wouldn’t be living with us in college next year. She told us that she was planning to pick up and move to California with a friend by next January.

We were all livid, honestly. She wasn’t doing well in school. It didn’t seem like she was trying. Quitting school seemed insane to girls who are all working their asses off to get into Med school. She wasn’t telling her parents, she was going to try make enough money to pay for rent and groceries and gas… Not to mention she was planning on going with a certain male friend who she had the hugest crush on, without even being in a serious relationship with him. It was crazy.

We got together to tell her how we felt. We told her we were worried about her, that we didn’t want her to be stranded in California, in the middle of nowhere… That if something bad happened to her, there wouldn’t be anyone to help her. What if he left her? What if she runs out of money? Does she really want to throw away her childhood in exchange for being an adult? Because moving out and living by yourself is a huge decision. Would she go back to school? What was she going to do with her life?

The funny thing about it was that she had an answer for almost everything. She had planned it out so much in her head, that it sounded vaguely possible. Granted, she said she had no idea what she was going to do with her life, but she’d find out eventually, in California. She said she needed this for herself.

My friends still all think its a bad idea. Hell, I still think its a bad idea. No one is going to say anything more; we all spoke our pieces, and she’s still set, straight as an arrow, on moving to the West Coast. Yeah, we care about her. We always will. That’s why we tried so hard to get to stay. We tried to help her… But maybe she doesn’t need help.

As much as the rational side of me says that picking up and leaving is totally insane, I have to admit that there’s a part of me that wishes I could do, too. There’s a part of me that wishes I could be as free as she feels, a part of me that wishes that I could just meet such challenging things head on without a moment’s hesitation just like she does.

I guess the most I can do is live vicariously through her… Because even though she’ll be across the country in a couple of months, my heart will still be with her. And though there will be an empty spot in our group to fill, our theme song still applies – anywhere we are, anywhere we go, everybody knows we got the party with us.

– Riza