You write in cursive. I'll write in graffitti.

The busy season is upon us. It can go from being a sparseness of events and activities to way too many interesting things going on any given day or weekend.

Case in point, May is dumb packed already and it didn't even hit yet. There are about four to seven graduations that I should be attending. Only two of them are must-shows though. Even this coming weekend has a variety of options. If Yvette finds a nice dress, then we can roll out to the formal fundraiser with the red carpet. Or I could have opted to ride down on the bus with the Project Hip-Hop fam and hit up the Darfur rally in DC on Sunday. But then, if I went to to DC with them, I'd completely miss the NSBE golfing event going down Sunday afternoon. And then there's a Teen Professional Summit on Saturday being hosted by YPN that I think I'd like to swing through and help out with. PLus, it nice outside, so the midget and I can get back to taking our outdoor walks.

And next weekend, oh geesh, we won't even get into that. And what's funny is that I don't even go out like I used to. Hmmm. Lemme get back to work. If not, I'm on the verge of taking a midday nap two days in a row.

First thing you learnt(ed) in the hood is homeboy love

So I'm supposed to be going to this seminar in the morning on blogging and podcasting being hosted by Apple at the Prudential Center offices. I'm always a bit skeptical of these kind of tech events because of the eventual product spin that I feel will always get tacked on to whatever presentation or discussion occurs.

And I'ma say it loud like James Brown
People be proud cuz we all up in the game now

But since I have yet to go to sleep, I'm a bit hesitant to doze off becuase I know how I can be come bright time...daylight. As part of the TechBoston team, I feel good about my gradual comfort in asserting myself more as a vocal proponent of advanced technology and student-focused approaches to the efficient and effective usage of those technologies. Being that I do all this blogging myself, I'm interested in hearing about new developments and shT like that.

Don't you be scared of me Mister
Cuz you don't really seem to be scared of my sister

Plus, it's supposed to be an eduation-themed event, so there should be a good bit of other educators and folks with some IT know-how there to really dig into Apple if they start to BS us with marketing doublespeak. A lot of new developments and changes on the horizon, so maybe I should go aheda nd try to bang a few hours in. We'll see. Until then, take a look at what the description for the events says it will cover:

Apple Blogging and Podcasting Workshop

Blogging and Podcasting. They're two of the hottest new web technologies, but what are they and how can you put them to work for you and your students? Find out when you join the Boston Public Schools Mac User's Group at Apple's state-of-the-art 111 Huntington St. office for a fun workshop that will teach you how to quickly and easily create your own curriculum-based blogs and podcasts on OS X. Break down the walls of your classroom and break into the digital world with us!

Bent like a boomerang trying to maintain

You need to make your thoughts more sober, think it over
-Black Thought (of The Roots)

A lot of places to be. A lot of things to do. A lot of events to attend. A lot of sun on its way to make up for all the coldness.

Came across the blogs of this techie guy from City Hall. Some interesting comments, but the most interesting by far (to me at least) was about a sticker at his work desk listing the seven deadly social sins according to Gandhi. Wanna hear it. Here it go. In other words, they are as follows:

• Wealth Without Work
  
• Pleasure Without Conscience
  
• Knowledge Without Character
  
• Commerce (Business) Without Morality (Ethics)
  
• Science Without Humanity
  
• Religion Without Sacrifice
  
• Politics Without Principle

These concepts essentially became their own chapter in one of Stephen Covey's highly touted management books. But outside of the corporate world, they hold some very tangible and insightful meaning for those of us who want to live with just a hint of substance in our daily hustle. I won't even bother going into them in much detail because you ain't illiterate and I'm getting sleepy. So, while some of them will undoutedbly hold more meaning than others and that phenomenon will vary by individual, it'll suffice to say that they are worth reading and making a part of your regular way of life much like brushing your teeth, checking email, or wiping your a$$ (and washing your hands) after #2.

Ill Street Blues

The next three days will be thorough. Got a few things taken care of today that will help the week go by a little better. But I came across an interesting little ditty from back in the day. Once upon a time, there was a movement to incorporate Boston's Roxbury neighborhood as its own city and rename it Mandela. Peep the video snippet. What's your adress? Mandela, Massachusetts, son. Wow. I'm feeling that. Boston has interesting mix of affirming and saddening historical attributes that distinguish it as a hotbed of political banter aside from the usual suspects. The brief analysis exposes a lot of subtle complexities that still exist. Very interesting stuff. I've spent much time in the past digging through similar archives, but this site is quality. Definintely more stuff to write about as I'm sure I'll get to 'em eventually.

off the wall

busy week. tis it is. tis it is.

more problems. more headaches. more cold weather. more rain. more meetings.

man...i CANNOT WAIT til JAMAICA. Hopefully, I'll have my passport delivered in the mail before it's time to depart. I sent it in on Saturday, so my fingers are crossed that no mix-ups occur.

but man...when your peoples let you down, they really let you down.

let's see...how do i count the ways?

maybe i could talk about Busta and his double-speak. yeah yeah yeah. street credibility. too many guilty parties and you still making music talking about shT that has your former bodyguard's family now mourning. i can't get with that, bus-a-bus. it just ain't right, son.

or maybe we should talk about Cassidy and his fresh-out-of-jail rhymes about going back to jail. is it me or is this b!tch bragging about not serving much time? yes, i know how macho it is to skate on minimal time, but really though. kinda reminds me of that Nas verse from Verbal Intercourse. "It's like a cycle. N!ggas'll come home. Some'll go in. Do a bullet. Come back. Do the same shT again." It just hurts your head so much for such bullshT to get more props than people out there doing shT the right way. Very muthafuqing frustrating indeed, B.

A Sunday Kind Of Love

I want a Sunday kind of love
A love to last past Saturday night

Yo, Etta James sang that song with all of her heart. She put her "lifetime in between the paper's lines" and played the deck of cards she got dealt. There's something about music. There is so much to it still left unchartered. unexplored. unenjoyed.

We search for meaning and rhyme with less reason, yet all's fair in love and war. We tango with text mesages, shout-out miscellaneous muthafuqas in the third person, and dance with wolves who'll prey on you if they catch you sleepin. But when our backs are against the wall, it takes much more than cojones to get by. We need someone in our corner to hold us down, keep us grounded, and keep the pressure on.

on a lonely road that leads to nowhere

Li'l Dap from Group Home never really got recognized for all of the ill analysis he used to kick. While the Nutcracker wasn't the best PNC, Dap more than made up for his subparness with some fiery lyrics that had plenty tape deck rewind buttons working out.

I keep it real you keep it to yourself and don't say jack
Every time I turn around and you're all on my back
For what? I don't know. These devils won't leave me alone
I've been here for 20 years and here to stand my ground
And these devils gettin' open but they can't get down

We resist temptation. We fight adversity. We forget to pay bills and get caught up in beauracratic red tape for the sake of credit scores and societal perceptions. Yet, how often do we do things just to be happy? Sometimes we make sacrifices just for the sake of trying to be happy, but it doesn't necessarily bestow that instantanously gratifying happiness we had anticipated. Sometimes it take a little more time.

Oh shit, don't tell me my n!ggaz got lost in time
My n!ggaz are dying before their time
My n!ggaz are serving unjust time
My n!ggaz are dying because of.. time

But it's that same notion of time that renders me equally perplexed and helpless. Like Saul Williams' piece from Slam, I'm reminded of its ending as he reflects of the mising pieces of his puzzle. And then I read about a shooting in front of the bowling alley last night while I was inside at the time. And then I recall DivaMari informing me that her and another youth worker have been notcing a lot more red in the attire of a certain neighborhoods youth. And so, how do I come to grips with the pitiful realities that some things are just out of my hands and everyone cannot be saved. Thus, I am both saddened and frustrated so I come full circle back to a state of wanting to be happy, but if that happiness jeopardizes me or any of my loved ones then we gonna have a problem and then I realize...I need to take some time to just chill out. And relax. And lay back and enjoy this rainy Sunday because what looks like crazy on an ordinary day is me simply adjusting to a new blue sky enveloped by my dreams and for all my wants, I only need a few of them. So I could go on and on with all this streamed typing but now I'm hungry because time waits for no one and all i really want is to be happy like Mary J said, so fuq it. I need some fried okra and Kool-Aid right about now. That good shT.

Club Axis on Landsdowne Street sucks

they are right up there with the RMV.

So anyways, if there is anything you should know about me before I slip into a coma it should be noted that I like hip-hop music. Ok, yes I love the heffa. And if you really know whattup, then you shoudl also know that DJ Premier is like a fatherfigure to the kid. And no, I ain't no new to
rap in 95, non-rhythm-having hip-hop head. So suffic eit to say that when I hear that Preemo is spinning, then I'm there, potna. So this starter kit DJ they had in there was doing ok when I rolled through. He played some dope jams like Scenario, etc. Then he started wilin out nad played some extra ish that killed the buzz. Then, at about 12:30, Preemo took over and talked abit too much, but at least got things poppin a little better. Oddly enough, I swear he dropped Nas Is Like and it was like I got taken back to Stetson West all over again. I can remember my man Ant showing how to DJ using that record. Classic. Anyways, I had this starnge feeling that the next song was going to be not only a hip-hop classic, but possibly something that he also produced. So it was comedy that the next 20 songs or so were all his joints. For some reason this is mad funny to me. He straight up played all of his own songs up in that piece. But then, things took a turn for the worse. HE started experimenting and - although it was good music - this just wasn't the night. He tore shT down, but the selection lack its ruggedness and instead relied on its wit wo get by, which failed. The crowd thinned out; uninclined to nod their heads to Rick James's Mary Jane or some other oft-sample throwback jams. I guess maybe other folks felt how I did. I had expected a night full of that hot shT that I never get to hear played in the club. Instead, I got some of it, mixed in with some musical ish that didn't mesh well with my anticipation. I'm sayin yo, we can hear all that disco and retro sample ish on any top 40 night. So I was a bit disappointed at that if you couldn't tell. But I did snap two great flicks of him in action. Plus, Big Shug was in the house and performed four songs, two throwbacks and his two recent joints. It was aiight. Overall, I enjoyed the music, but it definitely could have been better. And by the way, the security folks suck. Stop having hip-hop ish if you gonna restrict hip-hop from entering the building. Fell me on this one. I'm sleepy.

scene 1
excuse me, could you take your hat off.
huh. what.
no headgear tonight
this is hip-hop night, right?
blank stare
yeah aiight

scene 2

no hat
ok

scene 3

you again. can you come w/ me to the lobby

can you come w/ me to the lobby
no.
can you come w/ me to the lobby
yo it's off.

scene 4
did you just take a picture?
did you see it flash?
did you take one of the dancers?
maybe. i was about to take one of you?
did you?
no. i said about
can i see
no
we don't allow the dancers pictures to be taken. could you delete it
ok. see. and see. mmhmm. ok
you deleted it
yeah. you saw.
thanks.
mmhmm
you didn't delete it did you?
yeah aiight

scene 4
hat off
what about homegirl
women can wear hats. not guys.
oh word.

Just the freedom was better than breathing

Went to the CORI rally on Boston Common today. You can either peep this article for context or visit my man Horace's organization's site for all of the details behind the movement. It was a beautiful, blue-sky day outside so you know the homie took a gazillion photos of damn near every person I noticed. Some came out pretty dope. I still suck at some of the more advanced features, but hey...I'll learn eventually I guess. Anyways, the crowd was migratory, but engaged. Some folks were back and forth because there was simultanoues lobbying being done at the State House. Of course, PHH was in the house reppin.

Just a rebel to the world with no place to go

The Foundation were on-stage doing their thing spitting those rhymes full of hope and passion for progress. Definitely two ill lyricists making their mark on their own terms. But hold the presses, yo. There was this one group near the end of the program with this chick on the keyoards singing who straight shut shT down. And I cannot even recall what the name of the group was, but trust me, she was off-the-mutha-fuqing hook. It was some straight Fugees-esque tip with an Alicia Keys twist. She was singing the lyrics and the chorus, but then she was rhyming, and she was seated jamming on the keys all that time. Man oh man, sista girl was spitting that hot fire. But I digress.

Labeled a misfit. A bandit. ... His name was couldn't stand it.
-Lupe Fiasco, "Kick Push"

With one brushstroke, our lives can be altered for any variety of reasons. For some, sudden changes can have life-modifying effects. While for others, they are just bumps along the road of a ho-hum life of the rat race's daily grind. Fuq that. I need to chart my own path. But would you believe these muthafuqas at the RMV consider me a bad driver for some ole bullshT a$, surchargeable 'moving' violations. Just straight bullshT yo. And you wonder why so many people have CORIs, huh? Cuz good guys have limits too ya know.

Ever notice how the trees do everything we do for attention...except walk?

Life can run the gamut of injustice from Milwaukee to Negro Child Left Behind loopholes.
From reality's complexities of checkout-counter economics to a documentary on my moms' favorite four-letter word.

The film got 4 out of 5 stars at the Philly film festival, so I'm wondering how it'll fare in the Bean? The Boston Independent Film Festival started today. Hmmm....might have to check that out. I'm finding a few other files equally intriguing; American Blackout, Pick Up The Mic, Half Nelson, Before The Music Dies, Cocaine Angel, Infamy, Street Fight, The Trials of Darryl Hunt. Watch me bullshT and not make any of them.

On a lighter note, blogging is apparently good for your career, but only if you focus and weed out non-career related banter. Strike one for me. But a home run for MIT hackers, who pulled one helluva prank on CalTech not long ago {details}. I recall a few years back when the school's library was 'decorated' like that robot (R2D2) from Star Wars. I remember being intrigued by all that geek shT and wondering why it didn't seem to exist elsewhere. But ah yes, it all makes sense now.

We blow (smoke) trees. They just blow in the wind.
-pops

fuming

The Massachusetts Registry of Motor Vehicles sucks.
As in sucks big time.
As in sucks Lexington Steele's sack.
As in sucks dry a$$cracks after overdoing it at a buffet.

I know you've been to jail. You also been to therapy.

Just a quick lament on keeping it real. Ok, maybe not a lament; more of a retrospective inquisition.

Get rich or die trying was a classic
Now you rich and trying to die. You's a dumb bastard

Sometimes a tough facade is essential to surviving a tough environment and/or circumstance. I can recall one article not too long ago that cited a citywide survey of teenagers and concluded somthing to the effect of them acting 'harder' than necessary because such cold personalities were key to their survival, even if they were the nicest kids on the block and behind closed doors. Even nerds have to puff their chests out at least a little bit to garner some extra cool points and deflect some criticism, bullying, and possible headaches in advance.


Yo, you wasn't real with me
Now you got to deal with me

Much like a jungle dweller's defense instincts, urban youth are poised to grow up tougher and tougher with even colder ice grill face-contorting capabilties due to the very nature of the concrete jungle that is our city's streets. So what the hell, right? Gotta bring it back to reality somehow. I know and you (should) know that for all the studies they can do, unless you wlak in the shoes of a youngster, you will never know what it's like to have a triple-decker full of odds stacked against you. For there are plenty of diamonds in the rough.

The bigger the n!gga is
The more pallbearers

So basically, this all came to mind because I came across one blog that rehashed the whole marriage and Black family article and online debate issue from a few weeks ago in which many Black women were essentially resigning themselves to a life of solitude because of the bleakness of hope for the Black family structure. Too many brothers were doing a bid, wifed up, hubby'd up, deadbeat, ugly, or wack. Well, damn...just no options out there for them, huh. But on the reals, I always love refuting that argument with the assertion that I literally know hundreds of good brothers out there doing there thing in the world repping how they should be. Some balling on a budget, others living comfortable, and a few just getting by. But in the end, they all know who they are, where they are going, and what time it is (if clueless on that one, no customer support is available here). But basically, this one sister (among many others) still held out and made clear a rebuttal similar to mine. Essentially, she was saying how Black mean are the least respected and most suspected. I wish I could find that link again or remember which blog it was.

But anyways, bringing it back full circle. We've all had our share of out-of-body experiences. Sometimes the good guys act out of character and throw a few 'bows and toss their weight around to make sure the voices get heard and heads know I'm not the one, son. We do it for respect, we do it for pride, we do it ot of necessity. Sometimes, we just wanna be a$$holes for a few minutes before returning back to earth and our ho-hum ways of living without regrets, records, and drama. Vicariously, we thump our chests and hug our nuts the same as your neighborhood thug; just with an ounce of tact and consciousness to boot.
BEcause as much as I despise violence and having to take it to there, like Chris Rock, sometimes you can understand the need to do certain things. So for all the Black women out there delusional and done with Black men, there out there yo. To the brothers who think all Black women (unless they are much odler than him. this was a real conversation) are immature and will spend endlessly, hold tight, because good women are out there. To the heads working hard and on the grind to keep their ship sailing upright and their star shining, stay on that straight and narrow no matter how much you want to sacrifice it all and wild out, because sometimes sticking with your instincts will get you far along the road of goodwill and respect.

You gotta jump through hoops, anger management coups

But the fact I'm still standing here today is proof that...

So there's this rapper named Murs and he's ill beyond what words can express. So I dibble and dabble hearing him rhyme over various tracks the last few years. Then he and my man 9th Wonder decide to release this collabo album and it is so fuqing dope that it literally can leave you speechless. So then they decide to do yet another one, which essentially make the first joint pale in comparison and makes you so mad that more peopel don't know about these cats. Man oh man...that's on half the story.....

So on the first album, Murs 3:16, there was this track called Walk Like A Man that I have been meaning to blog about for several months. This is my official action item to myself. That shT is ridiculous. The world needs to hear it.

So anyways, on the new album, Murray's Revenge, there' s this song called Yesterday and Today. Oddly enough, I wish I could st-st-stutter while typing to embellish what I'm trying to get across. Oh how I love hip-hop. This songs takes me to a place that I wish to never leave. I don't like being all mushy-mushy, touchy-feely with mine like a little beyyatch, but I 'll be damned if I don't shed a tear when some real shT somes on that just moves you. This song does it to me. So naturally, let's tie it all together...

(Yesterday I) Felt the most hated
I thought I couldn't take it, they said I couldn't make it
(And today I'm) Feelin' brand new
I got nothin' to lose, I'm bout to make moves
(Yesterday I) Felt the most hated
I thought I couldn't take it, I fought until I made it
(And today I'm) Feelin' brand new
I got nothin' to lose, get out my way move

The commemoration event at the African-American Institute was great. The weather turned out to be pretty good. It was a bit humid inside becaus eof some video equipment and lighting that had the thermostats buzzing, but all in all it was a success in my opinion. I got to see several faces that I had not seen in a while... some months, some years. But it's always great to see and hear and catch up with old friends, reflect on the good ole days and witness the progression of life in action.

Some folks are married. Some folks have kids (me included). Some folks look the same. While others have slimmed down (inside joke). But through it all, we were all connected in some way to the Institute. From the old school cats like Rick Johnson who was one of the founders back in the 60s to the current crop of student leaders, the old adage holds true. The more some things change, the more they stay the same. We'll always have our apathetic lot of heads in the click not down for much other than food and fun. Yet we will always have those who are about doing as opposed to just talking about it.

I look back on my college career and the different choices I've made thus far as a series of baby steps; much like the building blocks of learning - I take them for face value, derive a lesson, grown from them, and move on. It's the only way to achive progress. As the date draws near that the building will be demolished, I can the voices of those who led the struggle many moons ago like Rick and Chuck T and Dr. Motley. I can hear the echos of the 70s, 80s, and 90s as they perservered and fought for divestment, justice, and equity. I can hear the optimism, sorrow, passion, and struggle in the voices of my peers who slept beside me on conference room tables, in library aisles, mini-sofas, and computer lab chairs. I can recall the countless hours we spent in that building during the occupation that drew wide interest and attention to the growing need for cultural centers on college campuses. Hell, I even remember the late night we spray-painted some "comments" on a stone facade only to find it painted over the next morning. You win some; you lose some, right?

But through it all, I learned valuable lessons. Some friendships last beyond permeable premises. Some relationships exist in plutonic informalities. Some passions will never die for it is the will of few that champion the causes of many. Much like the call for Black leadership has rung hollow for many years, those who consider themselves leaders in the background aren't the ones publicly espusing their skills. They just continue to do their thing on the low and go for what they know.

You know them days you just got the blues
All stressed and depressed from just watchin the news
No matter what good you do it seems you always get screwed
Got you caught up in your feelings now you off in the mood

So I guess this is more a tribute to perserverence than anything. I tend to lose focus when trying to be too serious. But it's also about leadership. And life. And love. And lessons learned.

Time waits for no man and tomorrows not promised
So if shes still alive shoot a call to your momma
Cause the fighting and the drama, its just not worth it
Nobodys perfect, ain't none of us worthless
We all got a place, and we all got a purpose

Lula Petty-Edwards is a tremendously influential woman who has done much to change the lives of many young women and men who have walked the sidewalks outside of Ruggles. Keith Motley has done more for youth and young people that I can ever hope to imagine. Even some of my peers have proven themselves to be capable of huge feats while still possessing an innate humility that only makes their illness shine through even brighter.

She was standing at the bus stop, sucking on a lolli-pop
Eyes collard green, lean, thicker then a pork chop
Stop - cause I don't eat swine
But this girl was so divine that I had to make her mine

And in my poor attempts to be a better dad, I'm also trying to be a better mate. So without punishing myself for past fumbles, let's just say I really want this current situation to work. And yes, I am loathe to talk about my private life. But it needs saying. We're both putting in our investment. The ideal ROI is happiness, right? She came through today to an event that she didn't have or need to, but I just need to publicly say thank you. I know I can seem to be a busy guy at times with me and my million meetings and rallies and games and conferences and shT like that. But it meant a lot. Ain't nothing like having someone in your corner; someone on your team to hold you down. (And today I'm) Feelin' brand new. I got nothin' to lose, get out my way. Move. Word.

Stick and Move

Didn't get much done today aside from minimalistic bull. Cleaned up a little bit, took a walk, picked up the whip, hit up the bank, got a haircut, ate some cereal. haha. Lemme stop...I hate those damn -lemme-run-through-my-whole-day's-activities lists.

But on the reals, I've been extra frustrated lately because both whips were out of commission and I was royally in a bind. So not only is the Mazda looking right, it finally has a current and valid inspection sticker on the windshield. If you know what's up, then you know such a foreign substance has not touched the surface of that glass in about 26 months. Yes...I am an a$$hole. As much I profess to be organized and on-point in term sof my follow-trough with most things, I didn;t bother to make sure the inspection sticker was legit. So instead, I took more than my share of L's on tickets and parking violations over the last two years. My question though...is why the hell does a missing inspection sticker matter as though you were a wreckless driver. That shT is a joke to me. No accidents caused by me, no DUIs, no lights ran through, yet I'm the bad driver, right? Blow me!

And speaking off blow. I'm going to need small business owners to operate in 2006. If you only take cash, please write it on your forehead in neon green ink. And blink incessantly everytime 30 seconds when we are speaking so as to draw attention to you noggin. Because I will forget to bring the envelop full of twenties when I come to pay for and pick up my vehicle. and then ye, you will have to drive me to the bank to get the money since you don't checks or cards, and I had to walk there because...alas, you have my car dammit.

Negro has left the building. N!gga here now.

The 40 Leon Street location of the John D. O'Bryant African-American Institute will soon be closing its doors and this shT has me feeling utterly depressed to the umpteenth degree. I played a minor role in the whole student activism thing five years ago and to reach the point where the 'free-standing' status of the Institute as we know it cease to exist is just real emotion-inducing. I guess I'll hae to give a whole lot of background later on the building and what went down 5/6 years ago, but trust...this Saturday will be a time of join, pain, elation, and distress. We will commemorate the legacy of peoples whose shoulders have been stood upon and those who have trailblazed new paths for future generations. I better start snapping my flicks before this b!tch goes up in smoke.

Akeelah and the Bee

I swore I was a good speller growing up. We used to have the class battles and then the winner would go on to represent in the bigger battle. I don't think I ever won. Or did I? Ok, maybe I did go on to take the crown maybe once, but never anything beyond that. Ahhh, the good ole days of long a$$ school bus rides and catching the city bus (even longer rides) on tardy days. So I don't think I'd mind seeing this movie. The midget is a bit young to put two and two together on this level, but maybe it'll help him and his speech. Definitely a movie that I can support. Regular Black people. Positive images. Just like the ones I know and you know. Say word.

THE COLOR OF FILM COLLABORATIVE, INC. & THE LINKS, INC.

INVITE FAMILIES, YOUTH , COMMUNITY & CHURCH GROUPS

to a SPECIAL ADVANCED SCREENING
of the movie

AKEELAH AND THE BEE

Film opens Nationwide on April 28th, 2006

DATE: SATURDAY, APRIL 22, 2006
TIME: 10 AM
LOCATION: Loews Boston Common Movie Theater, 175 Tremont St., Boston, MA

"Akeelah and the Bee" is an inspirational drama about Akeelah Anderson (Keke Palmer), a precocious eleven-year-old girl from south Los Angeles with a gift for words. Despite the objections of her mother Tanya (Angela Bassett), Akeelah enters various spelling contests, for which she is tutored by the forthright Dr. Larabee (Laurence Fishburne). Akeelah earns an opportunity to compete for a spot in the Scripps National Spelling Bee where we witness the courage and inspiration of Akeelah Anderson.

RATED PG - Recommended for middle school-aged youth and older.

RSVP to robin [AT] coloroffilm.com by 4/18/06 with name, age, gender and zip code of all attending. Space is limited. Please arrive at least 30 minutes before 10am to obtain seats. Seating is limited to a first come first serve basis. Free admittance is not redeemable for cash or any other alternative and is only valid for the day/time/theatre listed.

Runnin from my enemies will I live to be 23

So it's the break of dawn or some shT and I'm still up because i'm a fuqing zombie. i feel like homegirl on Biggie's first album when she said something about her being an owl. classic. Did some work, did some BSing, did some planning, did some writing. A typical night for the hermano. Kinda wished I had done a lot more reading and writing in my youth or as a teen at least.

I'm about to crash up on the curb cause my visions blurry

It's strange how some things and life events alter your perception and relation to things. I've always loved hip-hop and rap and freestyles and poetry. I definitely knew i was not a good freestyler, but shT was always in my head. As for poetry, I kind of didn't want to be too mushy-mushy and didn't want to go shooting shT up either, so I just chilled in the background. It amazes me how I wrote my first poem four years after it happened. I witnessed a murder and the shT still troubles me because of the situation and all of the subsequent shT and people who have died (especially the innocent ones) since then. It troubles me to see the cyclic nature of urban life no matter the neighborhood, borough, or precinct. We hear all this talk abotu the early nineties and how bad it was not only in Boston, but across the country as well. Something happened four years later that somehow triggered some back of the eye shT that had me reenacting shT so I had to get it down on paper. I never truly feel for the tupac theory and all of the glory cast upon him, but that join from the Above the Rim soundtrack was so moving. I know there are people whom I'll never be able to find or see again. And these are cats that should be in their mid-to-late twenties. It's just ashame and makes me sick ot my stomach sometimes. Sometimes being concious is just fuqing tiring from all of the mental dreariness that results. ugh.

never been a stranger to homicide
my city's full of gang bangers and drive bys
why do we die at an early age
he was so young
but still a victim of the 12 gauge
my memories of a corpse
mind full of sick thoughts
and I ain't goin back to court
so fuq what you thought

Sometimes I think it's safer to keep shT to myself because of safer no knowing I'm a crazy muthfuqa. ok not really. but on the reals, I worry about a lot of shT and think about a lot of shT. But I don't like to be a worry-wort and forever consumed so much by my thoughts that my actions are suppressed. It's a constant battle of life vs death, good vs evil, mind vs matter, that wages it way throughout my immunes system, making me numb to the life's painful agony when shT gets hectic. We try to take our bumbs and bruise, lick our wounds, and roll with tha flavor like it's all gravy, but sometimes taking a deep breath and pausing for the cause is the elixir for it all.

Hell, i don't even think I have a thesis or anything here, just random musings from a nightowl bastard with mad shT to do this week and not enough time or time mgt discipline to make sure it all will get dealt with. is it possible to ramble-type? aw fuq it. i'll get to what i can get to. ok maybe that's it. all that other ish were alternative ways of saying too much to do and not enough time to 'em. too many people to save, too many hugs to give, to many projects to finish, too many repressed tears from over the years, too many quiet thoughts forever forgotten, too many stolen moments left untouched. so i guess i'll just continue to give my all, be how i know how to be, do what i know how to do, love how i know how to love, live how i know/want to live, and take shT in stride. it's the only way we can survive, right?

gibberish and shT

this article has me worried about the city's current state of affairs. it's not unusual top hear the term, "it's gonna be a hot summer" thrown around in casual conversation. but damn yo. this shT is really getting out of hand. shootings are still as pervasive as before and gun arrests are literally daily. and bemoaning it will only serve to add fuel to the 'uproar' of people but not doing nathan. gotta find a diffrent way to address this shT.

conversely, this one gives me hope that deval patrick can win it all. i truly people the guy is good peoples and has his heart in the right place. i know. i know. all politicians have a hint of arrogance and shadiness inherent in their genes, but yo...sometimes you can sense someone who is for the people. ron bell is good peoples and he's done a helluva lot for the city and state. i hope he can add momentum to the patrick campaign as it goes up against the machine.

still slacking on the NSBE Pittsburgh recap, but since i missed wed's opening ceremony, i didn't get put on to the snub by the governor. definitely glad carl called son out on that one and for the fact that lynn swan came through to say whattup.

i think this GM situation is a good thing. apprently, the had this novel idea for a marketing campaign for the new whip. naturally, some ingenuous mufuqas decided to flip the script on shT. the result? some good/bad/neutral/intriguing press & publicity. some intentional. some unintentional. but i think overall, it does a lot to push the edges of normal discourse about the struggle between good and evil.

fly ish: this picture is off the hook and i want to try and do one like it. and this web 2.0 conceopt is kinda fly. web 2.0 is essentially the next-generation of the online experience. peep netvibes for a glimpse of how fly it is.

I'm not linking to them but rush L and neal bortz are wack-a$ old men who need a head-job and some rolaids. Rep McKinney was wack for getting into it with the securityguard, but still, you not feling her hairdo and taking to there just ain't called for, B. And as for Rush calling the NCCU chicks hoes...aparently he hasn't seen strippers in a while. Or maybe he always gets the ones that give happy endings.

i need to get back to going to the local toastmasters meetings and up that ante. why? i need to do something with myself since more school is not in the picture. depression sets in. aw fuq it. i could start by practicing some rubberducking. oddly enough, i cannot think of a quick, dirty joke, so oh well.

Extinguish the sun when I drool, play pool with the planets

I get these zombie-like urges to walk around during the daytime in a drunken stupor consistent with the look of a crazed maniac bent off some throwback MadDog and bloohshot eyes bereft of any focus or horizontal hope. And then, when night falls, I am suddenly awakened like the vampires in Blade and I find myself incessantly working on a million online projects, from client sites, to my own site, to work-related projects, to email inbox cleaning, to facebook commenting, to blog browsing. And yet, this primetime of mine is what throws a wrench in my otherwise mundane life, causing it to lose its tilt hourly because of my lack of attention (or interest) during the daytime and a need for action when the sun falls. See what I mean...this shT doesn't even make any sense to me right now but somehow my fingers are still typing as the midget tosses and turns in his sleep.

I ridicule the pitiful, piss upon the miniscule

But I'll be damned if the Mary J remix of "Back to Life" that served as the ill theme for Belly didn't just come on. Oh lawd....if you only knew what that song/movie does to me. Whew. It takes many moons to figure me out - this one extends that theory.

So hopefully, this random snow and coild weather will leave by the time the weekend rolls around. We'll see. I can't F with weather.com too tight becuase the shT is too unstable with its predictions for me. I neglected to mention how the last four times I washed the whip, it rained the next day. Actually, I think it even rained that evening after I had hit up the car wash on what had - up to that point - been a really nice, sunny, warm day. So yeah, I'm random man today. Maybe because Cam & Juelz just came on and you know how them d!ckheads do. Lemme go ahead and finish setting up this new site. G'Night...or G'Morning....whuteva.

Timing is Everything

Never on the left because my right's my good ear

Barely able to catch my breath before being immersed in yet another pile upon another pile of pure manure. Damn, son. I need some cheebah and cheap likka in my system. Pronto. Also, I broke one my my unwritten rules this past week in Pitt. I purchased liquor...lots of it. It was for a good cause, but still, I did feel a tad bit guilty dropping mad dead prezzies on that shT. But it's all love. The NSBE @ Northeastern chapter is still going strong, still winning awards, still getting ohhs and ahhs and rave reviews from chapters all over the country wondering how we got to be so damned fly. Just intoxicating, I tell ya. NSBE Luv. Ain't nuthin like it, B.

I'll be wreckin from the jump street, meaning from the get-go
Sit back relax and let yourself go
Don't sweat what you heard, but act like you know

I shine, you shine, in this day and time. We maintain the same frame of mind

Three years ago today, I witnessed the birth of a pale (purplish-colored) little boy. He waited for me because no less than 45 minutes after I got to the hospital, he hopped out like 'yo whattup.' I made it to NYC just in time. The famjily dynamics have sinced changed a few times, yet I'll hold him down. He's my PNC - partner in crime - for the Da Shinin-challenged. So we'll chill this afternoon and hopefully enjoy a pleasant evening togther and maybe even watch Florida give UCLA the smackdown tonight.

From day break to dusk dawn
I stand strong on my own two

So now I sit up preparing for a new week of highs and lows, arguments and elations, headaches and smiles. Work and life and etcetera are the puzzle pieces that keep me going. I had all kinds of drafts saved from the previous week, but all for naught. So I'll have to either think of new shT to write again or just start fresh. I'm trying very hard not to resort to those damned lists or blog quiz shTs. Fuq it. Maybe I'll get to work on the POPS Pics section and update it with some new flicks that I took that I think stand out in my quest to make this photography shT a meaningful hobby. Yeah right.

Showin 'n provin, it's not just a phrase that we usin'
It's the way of life when you keep it moving

Just got back a few hours ago from Pittsburgh, where the the NSBE National Convention was held this year. As always, a great experience, but this time with the added twist that I was not in my normal work/busy mode. So I actually had a chance to fall back and enjoy the conference from the rafters. Plus, I loce catching up with old friend and my peoples from across the country; hearing about how lives are progressing, marriages, births, break-ups, business ventures, graduate school, etc. I truly love Black people. Like the shirt said that I used to rock in 5th grade, "U Wouldn't Understand." I might have to cover Pitt in more detail later.

Before I slip into blackness I prepare for combat
Protect my dome cause that's where my home's at
-Smif-N-Wessun, "Wrekonize (Remix)"

So on this 3rd day of April, I hope to get some rest and play with my son. Being a dad has its moments and as much as I like to pretend that I'm patient, and nice, and understanding, I can be an a$$hole as well. So for the times I cursed him out, I'll pledge today to be more conscious of my words. For the times I've yelled at him a little louder than necessary, I'll try to be more caring. For the times that I did something that he will remember and harass the shT out of me later in life, I'll try not to punch him in the forehead.

Happy Birthday to my midget. Daddy loves you.
(And I'll make sure I say that more often too)