Kiss My Swag

So lately I've been having a lot of discussion about this one topic: being who I am. It's all down to the clothes I wear, how I act, who I interact with, and all that jazz. I have come to a clear realization that people unfortunately look at me a certain way: family, strangers, whoever.

Last night I get into the house (quite frankly minding my own business) and I had on this nice low V-neck long sleeved shirt from Forever 21...yes, Forever 21. So when I take my jacket off and sit down in the living room with my mother, she asks "is that a girl's shirt?" Of course, I answer, "yes, mom, it's a girl's shirt." Low and behold, she starts going off: "why are you wearing girl's clothing?" Blah blah fucking blah. Anyone who knows me well knows that I hate when people--especially my mother--asks me about what I wear. So I told her like I tell any one else, "because these clothes fit me and I still look like a boy wearing it." Now this is no offense to anyone who wears girl's clothing and look like girls; I have more respect for you guys than anything if that's your swag. I'm just saying (to her) that she needs to realize that just because I wear girl's clothing makes me no less of a boy; not to mention I only own very little articles of clothing worn by females. So she just needs to chillax.

After I got my Ciara "Fantasy Ride" from my companion, there's this one song that I have dubbed my new theme song of 2009: "Pucker Up." It's basically saying I'm going to do me whether you like it or not, and "if you don't like it, you can kiss my swag." Creative way of telling it like it is, I must say. So for anyone out there who's just plain ol' hating on what I do and how I do it, "Shawty, you can kiss my swag."

Damn...

Damn...that's all I can say right now. Just as soon as I get so close to the finish line, I feel like something causes me to trip. Right now I don't know whether I should have a vendetta with my Spanish professor, or if I should look at my English professor (or the English department rather) in a different way.

Might as well start out with the good news, since that's what we like to do in life: sugar coat. So I took my Black Psych final yesterday and I think I did exceptionally well. Had a discussion with my professor: B+ on the paper; B in the class. That I can feel proud of considering that I've busted my chops in that class trying to get key concepts and ideals and all that goodness. I can comfortably say that I've walked out of that class a better black person. Now for the bullshit of the day.
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I go to my Spanish final at 2:45pm; walk into the room feeling a certain kind of way already (I hate my professor as previously mentioned) and low and behold a sarcastic "Oh, you decided to show up?" Of course, it would be in my nature to return shade, but I let it slide and said nothing to her. Took my final...not exactly comfortable with it, but hey I'm a native English speaker, can't knock me for finding another language a tad difficult. Anywho, I finish my final and collect some leftover work. The problem: why do I get an evaluation sheet that says "Not enough evidence to evaluate"? I walk out the class pretty dumbfounded, then turned right back around. All she could tell me is "if you come to my office we can talk." I'm thinking in the back of my head "BITCH DOES IT LOOK LIKE I WANNA TALK?" I just walk out the classroom disappointed. I can't even fathom what a conversation with her would be like; supposedly I've missed half of my classes after Midterms which I feel is a crock of shit. I'm pretty sure that I've been spitting out some lengua fuera twice a week, although I did have my sick days. So she can't tell me that I have NO evidence whatsoever to evaluate me. Bull...shit...

So after I leave, I get an email sent to my phone from my English professor. What do you know? more bad news. She tells us that our final is pushed back to Thursday...what's wrong with this picture? I WAS SUPPOSED TO LEAVE WEDNESDAY! What possessed her or the department to switch our final from Tuesday to Thursday? The world will never know. However, I am highly disappointed and appalled.

All I ask is to finish this school year. I wanted to get my finals over with; I wanted to go home to my companion, my family, my friends; I wanted some relaxation time before I come back up here to work. Basically all of those goals were flushed down the drain beginning with one little email. And now I'm up studying for a class that I give two shits about. Overall, I'm done with this.

But you know what? I do get to have some sort of relaxation after all. I'm going to the city on Wednesday to buy my ticket for my old high school's show on Saturday. I'm going to treat myself to a haircut, hopefully see my besties, and maybe (most likely) visit my mother, come back up for my "English final" and call it quits. Later on I'll discuss my night with Culture Shock, but this was ample time to vent. I needed to write, to type, whatever to relieve this stress. I just needed time to have some sort of escape besides tears in my room alone. I just need to go.

Epiphany II

This past weekend has dealt a strong blow on my heart. As everyone who's read my blog knows, I've been losing out on a considerable amount of sleep lately due to papers and projects and all that's in between. The past two days, on the other hand, have dealt me some cards that were unexpected.

So Monday night I was walking through the SUB (Student Union Building for the non-NP heads) to go to the ATM machine. Suddenly, I'm stopped by my peers that wanted me to take part in this program called "Tunnel of Oppression." Ever been through one of those walk-through haunted houses? Well, the set up was similar; the "tunnel" had derogatory statements of rape, abuse, homophobia, racism, any form of discrimination that you can think of. I mean hey, I could deal with that, right? Sure...if they didn't have people acting these things out right in front of me. I went through the tunnel twice: the first time went so quickly that I didn't process what was going on. Reluctantly, I went for a second go, and was kind of shocked at how it affected me. Although I debriefed with some counselors from the counseling center (who, by the way, conveniently were waiting at the end) I had a lot of built up emotions that turned into tears by the time I was in Tina's room.

Basically, walking through that "tunnel" brought a vast amount of memories back into my mind. Some memories that I'd rather leave unspoken; others that people know about because I may have openly shared my experiences with them. I just felt with all of the pressures of work and my past being crept back into my mind that I needed release through tears. I mean honestly, I did need to cry. However, the program I felt was pushed upon me at the wrong time. I've been stressed enough and to have skeletons coming out of my closet was the last straw.

But you know what? Another program last night called "Diversity Matters" dealt with almost the same thing in a more subtle, enlightening approach. Many of the workshop activities dealt with breaking barriers and getting to know people on a deeper level; breaking away from the stereotypes and realizing that I am not the only one who have hurt in the past. Last night I cried, too. These tears, compared to the ones from Monday evening, were tears of closure. I felt that whatever I have gone through in life, or whatever my friends have gone through in their lives, was put out on the table and addressed. With this being done, there was some closure. Personally, I was able to face my issues and say "I am definitely not alone; I share my pain with the rest of these people. I can be at ease."

I guess I can say that once again, my inner phoenix is working with me again. I totally feel better than I have been a few days back. All in all, I guess things happen for a reason, and that's where this concept of Sankofa comes in: looking back into your past in order to move forward into the future. This and the phoenix can be interrelated: burning the past and being born into the future with the ashes. Wow, I didn't know I could connect what I've learned in Black Psych with other things in life...good job me lol.

Oh, These Mornings...

Another morning that I'm awake. Why do I keep doing this to myself? I mean really, Friday I was up from 12:15 until *gasp* approximately 11:20 am Saturday morning. Not to mention I had a performance at 8pm later on that Saturday, so what was I thinking? What influenced me to do such a thing? Maybe it was the little bit of "Finding Nemo" that I drank for celebrating Princess' success at the Latino Week Fashion Show. Then again, I sobered up about three hours after the matter, so that couldn't be it. Other than that, I stayed up working on a research project due tomorrow...that's still not complete...go figure :-\

So yet again, I am up in the wee hours of the morning stressing over work; an essay that I had to write for my Composition II class. I mean pretty simple essay...if only I did it way ahead of time. I had other priorities to fulfill, though. My Black Psych paper definitely kicked my ass, but I prevailed either way.

Quite frankly, I'm tired of staying up these hours doing work. Thank goodness today's the second-to-last day of classes (even if we do have to take finals next week). Point of the matter is I need relaxation. I need "him," my family, my friends. I just need to be away from the academics for awhile. I feel like it's burning an unnecessary hole in me and it's taking awhile to fill that hole back up. If only I could heal as fast as Wolverine *awesome movie, might I add.*

P.S.: Thanks Faisal for the Phoenix Magic card, I really wasn't expecting that haha at least I'll have something in my wallet to keep me strong throughout the day...hopefully...