Brown Skin Lady.
Friday, February 27, 2004
I could make arguments as to why Blackstar is the best CD ever...but I've only bootlegged the damn thang. That is until, two minutes ago when I bought it online with my Barnes & Nobles gift card. I'm excited. Can wait to tear off the plastic, read the liner notes, and listen to Kweli talk about:
Breathing in deep city breaths/ sittin on shitty steps/ we stoop to new lows...
Why is Respiration, like, the best song ever? Maybe cuz after Mos Def rips it, Sea Monkey, I mean Kweli brings the heat. And if that wasn't enough of an eargasm, Common comes off the bench and brings power to the three position like Shawn Marion.
Ill.
andycat stayed in the red at 7:48 PM
Thursday, February 26, 2004
Some quotes said at the bar tonight:
The abortion clinic is a scary place to be.
I got a tatoo of my boyfriend's name. He didn't really say nothin about it. Actually, he said, "I like it when I'm f------ you from behind.
I cheated on my husband. But he cheated on me first with a fat mexican.
My mom and I were pregnant at the same time.
My son hates my boyfriend.
My mom thinks you're cute.
I never met my real father.
I don't pack a lunch for my son. We're on welfare. He get's a free lunch.
I know I'm f----- up.
I'm not sure what to do with all this information. Exhibit compassion perhaps.
andycat stayed in the red at 10:13 PM
Wednesday, February 25, 2004
So what's the point of high school? Socialize with the heinas, deviance, floss your ride. You gain some independence with friends who have driver's license. Lose your virginity. Maybe get a part time job. But what's the goal of high school?
Mine was to get into college.
So it's frustrating when you're grading tests, and every other students seems to be failing. And what's even more frustrating is that these student's have three opportunities to re-take the test. Three. And all three are similar, same format, same questions...just with different numbers. So if you fail the first one...we go over the test for two days...and on the third day you re-take it. And then if you fail again...you take the third retake after school a few days later.
Some students fail...and fail...and fail. Mind boggling.
And I think to myself, what can I do to tap into their motivation? But when your parents never instilled in you the value of education, how can you expect these students to succeed in school?
But then what's the point of college?
Girls become women.
Boys become men.
And it's not that you need an education to become a man or a woman. But the degree gives you peace of mind. It says, "I accomplished something."
And what separates a man from a boy and a woman from a girl is poise. I believe everybody reaches a point where the ego disappears and the insecurities vanish. Some people take longer than others.
But as of now...we got a lot of 22 year-old teenagers who never really left high school. And some of my students will be these neurotic 22-year olds in 5 or 6 years unless I go on some kind of preemptive panic "you don't wanna be this type of person in 5 years, do you?" strike and scare them into doing well on my tests.
andycat stayed in the red at 10:52 PM
Sunday, February 22, 2004
Emo Kids. Good definitions at urban dictionary.
One who rejects "pop culture" and joins the counter-culture realm. Usually has ideas contrary to popular opinion and seeks to gain a better understanding of life through artistic venues. May appear depressed, have black or red hair, and dress in a way that is contrary to what is popular. Thrift stores, art, coffee shops, underground music, and poetry are usually of great interest. Contrary to popular opinion, though an emo kid may seem depressed, within their own group there is an element of deep understanding and friendship. Emo kids see the world as beautiful, but its inhabitants as lost and depressing.
That good will shirt is so emo.
This was funny to:
A kid who claims to be in touch with his emotions but is only in touch with one: misery. They all act depressed, tend to wear glasses with no lenses, and claim that nobody understands them. Of course we understand you, your a wuss, there you go.
"I cry myself to sleep at n-"
*swift punch to the face*
I agree more with the latter but I'd be lying if I told you I didn't have elements of the former. Remember that surface level revolutionary is the in-thing. You know, gotta have something to talk about at the bar. I'm get tired of self-reflection. I'm done with analyzing my past. I want to live in the present. Yet, I keep on self-reflecting. I blame it on this ethnography I'm working on in school, which is the first third of the masters thesis which involves much self-reflection.
I'm happy I'm putting in all this work for grad school and I know it'll all be rewarding at the end.
This past week was week one of:
20 hours at Starbucks. 40 hours at Chaffey High. Another 15 hours week with all things Grad School.
Wonder how long I can keep up this schedule.
These are notes to self as I was observing:
Its hard to put a grasp on the mindset as of late....teaching in a low socio-economic community is part humbling, part rewarding, part helpless...my teaching experience thus far has been relegated to 3rd - 8th grade...high school is different. elementary school teachers teach children...I just teach a subject....Not that I'm complaining...glad I don't have to be a disciplinarian...maybe I coach freshman soccer.
Oh man. I'm tired.
andycat stayed in the red at 9:32 PM
Thursday, February 19, 2004
When I come home from work, whether it be making coffee, expanding consciousness, or dismissing foolishness, I tend to nap. It's not a good habit. In fact, it's a bad habit. Right up there with buying a CD just for one song (Joss Stone -- Soul Sessions; do yourself a favor and go cop it), not trippin when the "low on petro" gas light turns on while continuing to drive two days later, and smoking.
So I knew if I went straight home from teaching today, I would've taken a nap. The bell rings. I get in my car. I start thinking about the nonsense this shout out forum has become as of late. I go to:
Express Men.
And while we're on the topic of fashion, I used to shop at Structure. Then I started working out, and all the gear I rocked for a while were extra-medium white t-shirts. Somewhere along the line, I guess Structure became Express Men...nice stuff, but I never found the necessity to buy anything from there...because, well...I haven't had a real job since graduating.
But since I'm interning full-time now, I want to look somewhat professional. And they even advise you in my classes to wear something appropriate, because students as well as faculty upon initially meeting a new teacher will judge you based on their first impressions.
I come home with a bag full of new threads, and I can't really explain this self-aesthetically pleasing high that one gets when purchasing some new outfits. I guess some people really live for this life of vanity, running their credit cards amok just so they can smile at their own reflection.
Natural high? Hardly.
Store bought high? Precisely.
I don't want to let myself derive pleasure from swiping a credit card...but at times like this I just gotta remember what my therapist told me...
Don't let feelings of guilt control you. Enjoy the moment.
So, fuggit.
I can't really explain it, I'm so into me now.
andycat stayed in the red at 6:39 PM
Wednesday, February 18, 2004
This was classic blog material and I just had to post it. Thanks to the homegirl, JC. The whole Connor/ Blood on his new white shoes/ hiding under the table...well read for yourself. Without further ado, I present to you --
Guest Blogger: Jenn Crawford
wanted to update you on the weekend... it was fucking funny... I tried to shout
out it... but it was way too long.
Sunday night.. approximately 1am
Cigarette/Candy Chic (looks like a transvestite) Storms out of Vesuvio Bar, as
she passes Sepi she yells out "Faggot Bitch".
Wondering what the fuck just happened we ask Sepi "was she talking to you?"
"no"... he says... HE then explains that the 2 big oafey white dudes at the
corner table were harrassing her and she was yelling at them.
One of the big oafey white dudes then staggars over and hovers on the shoulder
of our dear storyteller friend very drunkenly asking him if he is talking trash
about him and his gay lover ( I am assuming here).
"no"... says Sepi.
Drunk white dude does not take this as the final answer.. he hovers more and
begins talking trash. Cut to:
-Baruti sitting at the bar alone slowly taking off his jacket.
-Costello at the end of the table cracking his knuckles.
-Dom conversing with one of the few women at the table, completely unaware of
any hostile situation.
-Connor beginning to talk trash fully knowing that he will hide under the table
before getting blood on his new white shoes, but being completely confident that
either Costello or Baruti will kick the shit out of the drunk oaf so that he can
spit on the dude and say "yeah, take that" after he is on the ground
unconscious.
This madness goes on for a few seconds... voices raise, names are called. Bar
tender then gets angry at everyone talking trash (sepi, costello, drunk oaf).
Bartender then throws the drunk oaf and his gay lover out of the bar... cut to:
-Sepi holding up and imaginary diploma from Stanford and informing the idiot
that he will "read to him"
-Connor making fun of the guys fashion sense and his San Diego visor.
-Costello being the diplomat apologizing to the bartender.
-Baruti hunched over laughing at the bar.
-Dom still unaware, deep in conversation.
So, that was the night... sorry you missed it... But I assure you, there will be
plenty more.
andycat stayed in the red at 11:33 AM
Tuesday, February 17, 2004
I teach at Chaffey High School, home of the tigers, home of a 70% Latino/ Chicano student population, and now home of Mr. Doan, the cool new student math teacher who everybody seems to flock to when they need advice on anything and everything, ranging from installing bathroom toilets to multiplying polynomials using FOIL to being a chick magnet. If I didn't recognize the run-on in that previous sentence, then I could probably never teach English (I don't intend to). And if I didn't recognize the hypothesis-conclusion in the previous if-then statement, then I wouldn't be an excellent geometry teacher (I intend to).
Anyway, with my mind in a Vick-like scramble, I just want to tell you that High School students are an exciting bunch. No hormonal problems like 7th and 8th graders, so class management/ baby-sitting isn't an issue. Issues include but not limited to: missing class because of teenage pregnancy, feelings of self-worthlessness, and teaching emergency Algebra for the 4th time to seniors who want to graduate.
After my thorough introduction (the usual) I ended with "Any Questions or Comments about Me?" (the unusual). Among the more provocative ones followed by my answers:
What college did you graduate from?
UC Santa Barbara. Home of the Fortified Five (or 6 or 7 or 37 for that matter)-- aperwep, baruti, sea bass, kid, maximus, jc, dw, dj, cici, bret, and this sepurb fella. Sorry if I forgot you. (What is this, liner notes?).
Do you have a girlfriend?
Not girlfriend. But think plural. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Are you smart?
Are you?
I like what your wearing.
Thanks...but are you wearing really long shorts or really short pants?
Welcome to our class, Mr. Phone. Mr. Cone. Mr. Jones. Mr. D.
Glad to be here.
andycat stayed in the red at 5:55 PM
Sunday, February 15, 2004
Not fully comprehending that last post, but I'm guessing Baruti found some lovin in all the right places. My V-Day weekend? Well lets recap -- alcohol, nicotine, McDonalds, Dublins, Hi-Brow, darts, booze, and Peruvian food. Hungover at work, felt better after I yacked in the Starbucks bathroom. Felt worse after making mochas for 6 hours. Finished my shift, morphed into savage mode and thought running around the block would cure the hangover.
Barfed.
Felt better.
So in an effort to cleanse mind, body, and soul -- I recruited some help from the homeboy, Joe aka "Trader".
Free-range organic chicken breasts.
Raisin Bran.
Bell Peppers.
Baby Corn.
Yams.
Spanish rice.
Bananas.
Fuji apples.
Mixed berries.
Chicken apple sausage.
Multi-vitamin.
Water.
Juice.
Anal? Possibly. Pure? For sure.
andycat stayed in the red at 1:54 PM
Thursday, February 12, 2004
We were doing an excerise in class. Four corners of the room held signs that said:
1. Race/ Ethnicity/ Nationality
2. Gender/ Sexuality
3. Socioeconomic Status/ Profession/ Education
4. Religion/ Spirtuality
A statement appeared on the overhead, and then you had to proceed to the sign that you personally agreed most with. Once you were at the sign, you discussed your reasoning for the answer.
The statment: "The least likely you would change about this is your _________."
I chose gender/ sexuality. And then I discussed why I would not want to change being a herterosexual male. Among my reasons --
Women are objectified.
Women have to be desireable.
Media perception of women as sex objects is not necessarily true.
Takes longer in the morning for women to get ready.
In the post-feminist era, women must be the caretaker, the mother, the wife, and have a career.
Women are catty amongst other women.
Women are more moody then men.
Women seem to gossip too much.
Pretty much, my reasons all had the same undertone -- that it's difficult and hard work to be a woman. I thought I was being a gentleman, in that I wanted to conceive this notion of portraying women in a better light...but then one of my classmates (a female) threw this out to me:
I like what your saying, Andy, but all your reason have to do with why it sucks to be a woman. Why do you like being a man?????
Whoa. There's a thinker. Many of you know, as evidence of this blog, I'm the type of person who thinks about my thinking. My composure has less to do with being reserved and more with being reflective. I spend considerable time in my work and in making up my mind, usually because I consider several alternative responses before arriving at the answer. Quite literally, I'm still thinking about the answer.
And 3 days later, I'm still thinking about the answer to the question my classmate gave. Why do I like being a man? And I've come to a few conclusions, (though not necessarily concrete as the topic of gender relations is extraordinarily subjective).
1. Men are low maintenance. We take 5 minutes to get ready, unless your name is Carlos. (Andy, can you get me some hair products and bring it to my parents so they can send it to me? No problem, homie. I'll get some tomorrow and send it to you. Just give me a mailing address.) We have less shame. We fart in the shower. We are athletic, a few Division I track athletes would agree. I could go on and on...and fellas, you could probably help me out.
2. The theory of dichotomy comes into play in gender issues. Dichotomy, for those not in the know, is division into two usually contradictory parts or opinions. For example -- the dichotomy of eastern and western culture. In this particular circumstance -- the dichotomy between male and female.
Let me further elaborate. The theory of dichotomy says that to fully understand one part or opinion, you have to recognize its complete opposite. I recognize the difficulties or what I perceive to be difficulties that women face, and therefore, the least likely aspect that I would change about myself is my heterosexual male identity. Simply stated, I enjoy being a man because I am not a woman.
This theory of dichotomy works in reverse also. Women enjoy pampering themselves. They enjoy getting dressed up and being desireable even though it take upwards of 1 hour to get ready for a date. Women want to play the role of caretaker and career woman. However, to fully appreciate being a woman, you have to recognize what its like to be a man. You don't want to be low-maintenance. You think farting is disgusting (JC's shout out to my fiber intake post). You only run when being chased (Swirlygirl).
Does that make any sense? Or am I just thinking to much?
andycat stayed in the red at 5:04 PM
Wednesday, February 11, 2004
I keep on flirting with new girl. Think she likes it. Or maybe she's just friendly. She flirts back. She had a boyfriend. Past tense. Had. Broke up couple days ago. Damn, she cute. And goofy. Nice bod. Got a little thickness about her. In a good way though. Muscular.
All my previous relationships have been with women that were a little bit on the thick/ soft side. Or miniature looking mouse girls.
I just want a happy medium. Really, consistency is vital. Like Fox News, fair and balanced. I like that.
What's up with these fragmented sentences?
Don't ask. Won't tell. Thought processes are all chopped up at the moment. Anyway, new girl and I are going running tomorrow. Should be fun. Cute, goofy....and athletic??????? Is that too much to ask for?
Whatever. Be cool.
andycat stayed in the red at 11:27 PM
Tuesday, February 10, 2004
Fiber Intake
1 Large Bowl of Raisin Bran = 6 grams
1 Medium Banana = 3 grams
2 Tablespoons of Peanut Butter = 4 grams
2 Slices of Whole Wheat Bread = 4 grams
1 Apple = 3 grams
Handful of Raisins = 2 grams
22 grams of fiber. I'm sitting in class. Noisy bowel movements emerge. Stomach starts vibrating. Colon erupts. Escape to the bathroom. Blew it up like vesuvius. No chunks, all gas. Very uncomfortable.
andycat stayed in the red at 12:06 AM
Sunday, February 08, 2004
I want to write something. Something profound. Something entertaining. Something worthwhile for you to read as you slack off at your 9 to 5, clicking refresh at an alarming rate to see if I have posted something clever. I thought that last post was sheer nonsense to the infinity power, as I took my brain on a journey to neverland.
I have nothing clever let alone humorous to write. So in an effort to get intellectually stimulated, I'm just gonna bore you with some daily operations in the life of acat and tell you what I did today.
Ate a grilled cheese sandwich. Ate some raisin bran crunch. Made frappaccinos. Didn't study. Lifted some weights. Ate pho. Took a 3 hour nap.
Maybe I talk about the cute girl that just got hired at Starbucks and how I was flirting with her. I could talk about her reactions to my smoothness. Bet that would be real entertaining huh? Well I'm not. Just know that all the Ladies Love Cool A. Kinda like homie in the above pic.
Or I could talk about how the 5 people whose friendships I dig at Starbucks.
David Markie, the 19 year-old Fullerton student, who I've been hittin the weights with. He's got a naturally aloof personality mixed with some rage, and sprinkled with some charisma. It makes for quite a original character. He resembles dude who played the anchor in Sports Night and TJ from S.W.A.T.
Joel Ceballos, 20, up and coming singer/ songwriter who's about to open for Duncan Sheik in NY in a few months. Talk about soul...homie is just a sucker for love. Real humble and chill, personality traits I look for in friends. Gonna check out the Roots with my man. Call me his biggest groupie when dude blows up in a few years.
Kelly Joseph, 21, Fullerton Poli-Sci major. Beautiful + Smart + Attitude = 1 Fun Girl to be around. Also, way out of her boyfriend's league.
Monique Gaskins, 19, Pomona College student. We actually studied together at the library on campus. She's real chill, kinda cute, loves to drink, and an Econ Major! She ask me to help her to study for an up-coming midterm. Microeconomic Theory. What? Just because my diploma says "Graduated with a Bacherlor in Arts Degree in Business Economics", does not make me some kind of blockbuster revolutionary economist.
Tenaya Laucik, 21, EMT in training. Happy-go-lucky personality. Bad shoes. But I don't judge a person by the cover of their feet.
That's it. I genuinely like those people as they are all low-maintenance. When I startup the Doan Army, I'm recruiting these 5. Everybody else? Too gay. Too many self-esteem issues. Too dumb. Too megalomaniac. Too all about Starbucks.
Damn, that above paragraph was gangsta.
Peace. One Love. Intellectually stimulated. Gonna study and go get my masters.
andycat stayed in the red at 10:21 PM
Friday, February 06, 2004
Anybody else kinda sad that football's over? It's okay because we have basketball. Time to watch my man D-Miles in the Perfect Score. Or Ice Cube in Barbershop 2. Or Kurt Russell in Miracle. There's some guilty pleasures out in the theatres right now.
I love Sam Cassell. I think he's been the most underrated player in the NBA for the past 5 years. Lethal at that 15-18 ft. mid range jumper. You realize he's 34 years old? 34! Remember when he was a rookie on the Rockets winning championships? I was a freshman in high school. Damn, I didn't even have a driver's permit yet. Matter of fact, I had just discovered masturbation and girl's with boobs. Ahhh, puberty. Going to high school dances, having a cute girl ask you to dance, and then trying despartely to hide the dance floor boner. Ladies, how do you feel when a guy gets the dance floor boner? Do you feel awkward? Or are you flattered in some kind of twisted sense? Fellas, do any of you still have this problem? I guess you don't get full-on boners these day. Just partials.
Am I actually writing these words?
Anyway. Now here I am -- one high school diploma, one college degree, one astrovan, one celica, one blazer, 1000's of times slappin the slim jim, and 37 pairs of breasts later.
Sam Cassell is finally an all-star.
andycat stayed in the red at 12:28 PM
Thursday, February 05, 2004
How fresh was the Bay Area Filipino Mobile DJ scene back in the 80's? That shizzle looked downright off the nose. Hip-hop in the 80's was pure nonsense. Then Public Enemy and KRS-1 dropped. And somehwere along the post-public enemy/ pre-puffy era, I developed a hip-hop consciousness. I remember losing myself in the moment when De La's Buddy would drop at a Jr. High Dance and trying to hold on to it before the jam ended. It was fun back then.
I posed a question to Mystic and Ursula Rucker last night at a "Revisiting Black Aesthetics in the Hip-Hop Age" speaker's series put on by the Black Student Affairs at Pomona college. Talk about some angry black women. These ladies were talking about how hip-hop today has been commodified and packaged to White America.
With all due respect, didn't the jiggy-backlash happen in 2000? As stated by Ms. Elaine Brown earlier, Hip Hop is an art form and not a movement. True, hip-hop is black music for the oppressed people, but whatever happened to just having fun? At the risk of sounding corny, where's the love?
They answered something along the lines about how they have so much on their mind that when they write their lyrics/poetry, love is the finished product of their work.
Didn't really answer my question. Except for the creatively inspired Quannum label, home of the Lifesavas, the underground is a disaster today.
andycat stayed in the red at 12:58 AM
Tuesday, February 03, 2004
I was in class yesterday and when you're in the teaching profession, you witness an abundance of social injustice inside and outside of the classroom. Sexual orientation, religious affiliation, special education, bilingual education, among others are prevalent issues teachers must consider in their vision to educate. And when one deals with issues, undoubtedly, there will be conflicting stances.
And I was observing my classmates go back and forth in a heated argument about white privilege. Ouch. Race is always a sensitive issue. I didn't even want to thrust myself in belly of the beast, so I just sat back, observed, and started getting all Rodney King.
Can't we all just get along?
Yeah I wish the solution was that simple. And I realize it isn't. And if I truly want to be a teacher, I will have to tackle these issues. But then again, I only see myself teaching for about 5 years...yet still continuing a "helping" profession after my teaching career is over.
I truly want everybody to have peace of mind and remain free from drama. It's just not healthy to be angry and frustrated all the time. So even amongst all these strong sentiments about various issues, what is it that we can use as a platform for all to remain cordial. What can we all rely on to make us happy? As humans, what do we all unanimously enjoy?
Food. Sex.
That's it. We all like food. We all like sex. Yes, I realize that people have social issues with food and sex particularly in the construct of anorexia or sexual trauma (rape, molestation, etc.)...but for the most part, a majority of us enjoy food and sex regardless of creed, sexual preference, disabilities, age, white, black, brown, burnt sienna, tangerine orange, carribean green, periwinkle, carnation pink, etc. So if the plan for me is to remain in a "helping" profession after 5 years of teaching, its going to be in the food or sex business.
Hmmmm....do I open a restaurant, or a strip joint? Food for thought.
andycat stayed in the red at 4:10 PM
ESPN
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LA Times
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AIM: ANDYDOAN1
E-Mail: adoan1@hotmail.com
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