New Tat Behind My Ear

Today I somewhat spontaneously got a tattoo.  It a tribal butterfly behind my left ear.  I think it’s super cute, my friends think its sexy and my ex girlfriend thinks its hot.  So I’m happy with it! Yay.  

Here are the pics:

I would make the photos bigger, but for some reason WordPress won’t let me.

Go figure.

Accepted! Hollerrrr.

Its been a long time since I’ve had an entry.  It’s been crazy with school and work and life etc.  But, I have some news that I am pretty excited about.  I just received notification that I was offered admission to George Washington University as an International Relations major.  I guess that means I’m a “Colonial” now.  Not all down with colonials and colonialism..but hey!  I’m in at my first choice school.  No more worries about where I will be transferring.  It is quite the relief.  I’m also pretty excited that it’s a Division I school; I’m looking forward to some pretty nice basketball games.

Ol’ George does look a little intimidating…

I’d be scared :-p

Discover Choc Quib Town: Eso es lo que hay!

Choc Quib Town is a music group, from Colombia, that combines components of Latin, Afro, Pop, Rap, R&B, and stirs it all up.  They are like the Afro-Colombian Fugees, and that beautiful brown woman with the gorgeous almond eyes, is their Lauryn. They should be recognized worldwide, so I’m gonna do my part in promoting them.  This is a short clip of them talking about their music, and there are also some sound bytes of their songs.  If you don’t understand Spanish, it’s okay, just know the words, “eso es lo que hay”.  It means “that’s what’s up” and their music is definitely what’s up.

Check out their songs, “Somos Pacifico” and “Alguien Como Tu”.

Procrastination Sensation->Rant

I figured that while I procrastinate in doing my school work, I could still at least do something productive such as writing a blog entry.  Voila!

 So I heard on a YouTube video that the two most commonly Googled words are 1) sex and 2) God.  While this did not surprise me, I still for some reason found it odd.  Odd in the fact that God came second to anything…especially sex of all things.  The most commonly viewed post in my blog is “Random Ridiculousness: Stuck Sex Toy” and the second most commonly viewed is “Morning Mass”.  This follows the pattern laid out by the Google search.  But in the case of my blog, an x-ray of a stuck sex toy waaaaaaay outweighs Catholic mass.  This somewhat disturbs me.  Although I am grateful for each and every person that takes the time out of their day to read my blog,  I do kinda wish that sex wasn’t the main factor attracting people to my writings.  God or the Church doesn’t have to be the main attraction either.  But I mean, c’mon people…yes, it is quite entertaining to see that picture, but there are a world of more important issues out there.  Only a fraction of which I discuss here.

Please, if you come to look at the sex toy pic, fine that’s cool.  But take the time to at least read a heading or two of the other entries.  Thank you much.

Signed,

LoveZieNess

Morning Mass

I went to 8:15 am mass this morning in D.C; surprisingly D.C.’s notorious traffic wasn’t so bad.  It took me in total about a hour and a half to get there but this because I got extremely lost; I had to ask this lovely mature woman for directions.  I was actually able to follow them and they placed me exactly where I needed to be. All in all I was about 15 minutes late.  I walked up the stairs, gingerly opened the door, and stepped inside the chapel.  I sat in the back so I could observe.  I saw the other people there praying so I bowed my head and prayed, crossed myself and said Amen–which is to be expected.  I told a woman in the office that I wanted to go through the Rites of Christian Initiation of Adults (RCIA) and she gave me the number of another lovely woman whom I called once I got home.

By the time I got home, I had a half hour till class and was completely exhausted.  I laid my head down to take a nap, next thing I know, it’s 1:30 pm and I’ve missed both my classes.  I shrugged it off and took the time to study my schoolwork and Catholicism during the day.

Now some may be wondering how I reconcile having same-sex attraction with converting to Catholicism.  Although homosexuality is condemned by the Roman Catholic Church, it is openly accepted by the Liberal Catholic Church.  I know for a fact that homosexuality is a natural component to many peoples’ lives and I don’t believe there is or should be a “cure” for it.  The church I will be attending is an African American Roman Catholic Church, thus will be following doctrine laid down by the Roman Catholic Church; some conflict within myself may arise there.  This is easier said then done, but I will try to be as open as possible about my same-sex attraction, even if it is just in Confession.  Maybe, my confusion of which way I want my future to go, either with a woman or a man, will be worked out.  Although I have a pretty good idea in the which way the Church will try to steer me.

Catholic Conversion

This may seem like a sharp turn for me, considering past posts, but I have been trying to have a spiritual awakening for some time now.  I have been doing a lot of research and am seriously considering converting to Catholicism, which was my mother’s family’s religion before she went to the A.M.E. church.  Now my mother certainly isn’t the most religious of people, she has a sharp tongue and she never took us to church every Sunday.  Although we do listen to sermons and gospel music on the radio.

Converting to Catholicism has been something that has been on and off my mind for years.  But as a young adult now, I feel like I am finally able to make that decision for myself.  I talked about it to my mom, and she supports me fully–although I don’t think she will be making the change with me.  I won’t go on pretending that I am some holy sanctified young woman overnight. It is the extent of my sins that brings me back around to God; there is nowhere else to turn.

Tomorrow I will be driving into DC to a Black Catholic church for 8 AM mass before class.  I will be up at the buttcrack of dawn, but I am really excited about it.  I’ll bring an update tomorrow when I get home from school.

Chau.

I have weird dreams.

I’m not sure why, perhaps it is the medication I take, but I always have the most vivid, outlandish,  and just plain ol’ weird dreams. Last night was no exception.

This is how it went: My friend Cesar asks me to come to his cousin’s cook out and I agree to go. (That part actually happened in real life.)  I have no idea where his cousin lives, but I say to myself, “Hey, what the hell…Gotta live.”  So I take my shower, get dressed into a cute little outfit and grab my keys and go.  I’m driving on the road for hours and swerving in and out of lanes, cars are blaring their horns at me, and I’m blinded by the oncoming traffic.  My heart is racing by this point, but somehow I avoid an accident, and arrive safely at my destination.

I see a friend from high school there, Joshua*, and I jump up and down in excitement and shock and run over to get him a hug.  Now, Joshua* is a big boy, well obese really and he use to sweat a lot–which is completely logical.  So in high school and both in my dream, when I gave him a hug my arms became wet with the sweat from his underarms. Gross? Yeah, I know.  But in my dream, not only were my arms wet, my clothes were drenched in sweat.  I pretended like I didn’t want to vomit, and I just stood there soaking wet, and continued my conversation.

“Joshua, I’m so happy to see you! What are you doing here?!

“I have to tell you something.  You’re my sister!”

At this point I’m dumbfounded.  (If my dream doesn’t sound to crazy/interesting yet, it gets a little better.)  

Next thing I know, I’m back at my house, telling my mom I’m going to WaWa to get something to eat.  I go there and see gourmet foods, like juicy steak and steaming lobster.  But me being a dumbass, go for the fries and grilled cheese.  So I basically teleport back to my house and everyone is gone, except Cesar is now in my house.  He grabs me and drags me up the stairs into my mother’s room. 

“KIDS! They’re everywhere, and they have guns!!”

“Cesar, what the fuckity fuck are you talking about?”

Next thing I know, this little boy followed by a gang of little girls to the room with machine guns.  I run in attempt to close the door and lock it before they can step inside.  They push the door against me, the twenty of them are much stronger than I and they’re winning.  During this time Cesar just stands there looking stupid.  Sweat is pouring down my face and I’m in pain trying to hold down the fort.  Cesar shouts, “Use this!!” , and he slides me a rolling chair.  I snatch it, let go of the door, and yell at the kids, “COME ON BITCHES! Get at me!”

The door swings open and the kids rush in with war paint and with a war cry.  I take the chair and go at it, running it back and forth, knocking those little bastards down like bowling pins.  Then I started to have fun with it and began laughing like a mad woman.  Eventually all of the kids were down on the floor, laying unconscious. I put my foot on the head of the little boy leader, raised my weapon–the rolling chair, in the air, and let out a bellow of triumph.

Now, you may think I’m a sadist, but I am not.  I work with children and I love them ages 0-6.  But when they really get to that smart talking and all that wild stuff, you can take them back.  I think my dream was inspired by those news stories of those little boys, one of which killed his father, and the other whom killed his step-mother.  I’m definitely not advocating that they be tried as adults, but those kids knew what they were doing.  When I was eight, as at least one of these boys is, if I took a gun and shot someone in the hear,  I basically knew that wouldn’t be rising back up.

If you’ve read this whole entry, you must have been extremely bored, but nonetheless I am very appreciative.  Until next time.

Chau.

Yellow Rage:Stories Untold

The two young women in this video by Yellow Rage have some of the sharpest tounges I have ever heard.  Their words have your mind running a race, chasing and trying to hold onto every last word.  Three minutes of poetry open your eyes to a world of people that are often left unseen and masked behind stereotypes, in the United States.

 If you have read my BIO, you will know that I have some Asian ancestry.  My grandmother was a Japanese orphaned woman who was forced to work in the Japanese steel yards of WWII; that is…if she wanted to eat.  She married a man who was a member of the Yakuza–the Japanese Mafia, and they soon had a baby girl.  My grandmother later divorced this mafioso, fearing all the illegal goings ons and violence surrounding her and their baby.  A divorce in 1940′s Japan was not a common thing and only a strong woman could have come out of it on the right side.

She later went on to remarry to my grandfather, an American soldier, in the navy, overseas in Japan during the Korean War.  Together they had two sons, one of which is my father.  This is only a short history of the amazing woman whom is my grandmother.  May she rest in peace.

When the young lady on the right, in the video below, states that it took her twenty years to perfect the language of her mother and grandmother, I can only stop to think of the lost language and attached culture that is a part of me.  Recently I got in touch with my estranged aunt, my grandmother’s first born, who is the only full Japanese member in my family now, in an attempt to regain a bit of the culture that was lost with my grandmother’s death.

 As I learn Spanish and Portuguese and the cultures of Latin America, I get a strange twinge that causes me to remember my own language–Japanese.  This is the only language that can connect me directly to my ancestral roots.  It is not a European language learned through the process of colonization, nor is it a language abolished in slavery like that of my African ancestors.  It is whole, it is mine, and it is completely foreign to me.  I hope, one day, to travel to Japan and East Asia, and visit my Grandmother’s birth town, with the language of her mother on my tongue.

Enjoy.

La Pregunta es: Buenos Aires o DC?

It really is not a difficult question to answer.  Do I stay in DC, which is 20 miles from my house, and do a government internship there or, do I go to la ciudad hermosa de Buenos Aires and immerse myself in the Spanish language and Argentine culture? I’ll take the latter for $600 Bob.  I have a love for Latin American cultures and would like to further explore them, as I have never studied abroad.  To make things even better, two of the best people I’ll ever know will be in Argentina during the same time.  Can it get any better?  The only issue is that I need to get my finances in order.

*Crosses fingers* 

Hope it works out for the best.

 

UPDATE: All systems go!  This lady right here will be flying to Buenos Aires, Argentina this May! Woohoo!

Can a chick get a ride?

Today, I am home from school because my little sister took my car keys–fuckity fuck fuck.  Granted, our keys do look somewhat similar, but the fuzzy wuzzy panda bear swinging from my keychain, is distinctly mine.  Once I realized my keys were gone, I began bubbling with anger, sweating profusely, and turning bright red; I wanted to scream.  Now maybe all of this emotion was not completely deserved, and I have to say it was not all directed towards my sister, but damn. C’mon!  Still, the anger was moreso directed towards the stupid fucking situation.  I had spent the better part of two hours completing a paper on dropout rates in America, for my 11:00 am English class.  Check your clocks; It is now 11:39 am.  I tried calling my retired neighbor and aunt to see if they could do me the grand favor of taking me to school, but I could not reach either one of them.  So now, I am sitting here writing to you.

I’ve decided once again that I am not interested in dating David*.  I’ve decided to let it go and discontinue with the whole dating thing in general.  Perhaps I’ll pick it up again when I get back to a university, but when I was at NYU I hardly had the time.  When I did begin dating my ex-girlfriend, when we were both still living in NYC, it took completely too much time away from my studies and I ended up doing stupid shit like taking the A from Grenwich Village to frickin Far Rockaway, Queens at 8 pm when I had loads of homework to do.  Unfortunately, I must say I’d do it all over again…for her.