Boas and Female Dogs!!!

Unlike most days, everyone in the classroom was wide awake. It was 8^th period now, sophomores and a few freshmen anxiously waited for the bell that would bring them their freedom. Seventeen minutes and 34 seconds left, I could feel beads of sweat running down my forehead. What in the world would I do for seventeen minutes and 34 seconds? I looked around the class, Darius the lanky kid with the shrill voice sat in the other side of the room staring into space. I looked at him patiently admiring his long muscular legs... just kidding. I gave him an awkward stare with a raised eyebrow. He noticed me almost instantly and came back to earth. Now that I had his attention I began to cleverly play ninja across the room. By carefully keeping track of his hand motions and keeping pace with his swift movements I won the fierce battle of “ninja” without making any physical contact. I looked at the clock again, only two minutes and 53 seconds had passed. I looked around the room desperately trying to find something to entertain myself with. Mr. Gambol must have noticed my discomfort and interrupted my search for fun with a question I couldn’t even make out. It went something like this “Mauricio, blah blah mumble blah I had pancakes for breakfast blah blah more mumbles?” I suddenly felt like Walt Disney, frozen. (His life must suck!)  Unable to answer, I slouched down in my chair. Just as he was about to continue with his lecture I shouted out “Seven!” and that, children, is how “seven” became the answer to anything don’t knowJ.

The story doesn’t actually end there. Now that Mr. Gambol knew I wasn’t paying attention I stared at him intently, to make it seem like I was taking in every word he said. But in reality I was staring at the huge wet spots beneath his arms. I was like “Dayuum I know its hot Gee but yo pits be ridiculus!” (notice how I intentionally misspelled ridiculous in an attempt to imitate the voice in my head) So there I was, staring at Mr. Gambol’s axillae when it finally happened. The bell rang. and tat my friends is how the real story begun…      

What You Thought- Typical Cats

Yes it's Denizen an exhalation of breath
and these Typical Cats will make the session start fresh
Yes it's I grip tight the lemon scented mic device
these Typical Cats will make the session start right
See I was born with two tongues but no green card
my skin marked by the immigration narratives of my people drifting apart
Of the two worlds I reside in the high yellow phantasm, of an undiscovered future
I am to breach the chasm between my mother's memory and my hazy prison I so knew
Languages off the scraps of my hand-me-down clothes
I grip with ten toes the type or types are putting fact in funk
deliver colder than statistics, bubble hot like a Cali trunk
I dwell in the fertile valley between ghosts and history
subvert the dogma lefty-loosy righty-tighty every time I speak
Conjunction junction what's ya function my assumption
that the fearful face of my future would fall and then my punching is in question
Ghosts grip my chest and I can't breathe
panic brings my chinky eyes wide and then I can't read
Roll and I tumble and I cry the whole night long
roll and I tumble and I cry the whole night long
But my creator calls the human out the thinnest of the vapors
I tease the story out the blankness of the paper
I can weave a family out the scarlet of a sin
and write the world in which my seed will be at ease inside his own skin
See Miss Liberty stagger with evictions falling out
I tap with two tongues against the inside of my mouth
Had a date with assimilation, but I stood her @$# up
and made love to the multi-color features brimming in my cup
Because the end comes quick, ego says quit
I say work is love let my body be a brick
Because the end comes quick and ego says quit
I say work is love let my body be a brick

Based on the lyrics of this song I am able to assume that the speaker was an immigrant. His first line uses the word “denizen” which is “anything adapted to a new place”. (dictionary.com).This already suggests that the speaker is not in his original home. He then continues the song mentioning a lemon scented mic device. I’m not sure what that has to do with anything, I think he just added it because it sounds cool the way he says it in the song. But then he starts talking about immigration again. He says “I was born with two tongues but no green card.” By two tongues he means the ability to speak two languages, English and whatever his native language was. But he doesn’t have a green card; I don’t think I have to explain what that means. Then he talks about the experiences of an immigrant. He talks about everything pretty much, stories about crossing the border, poverty, his struggle with comprehending a different language. And then again he insinuates that he’s talking about immigration when he mentions lady liberty. When he says evictions falling out I think he’s referring to people getting kicked out of the country. When he says he stood up assimilation he suggests that he’s not worried about fitting in but instead he’s going to “make love to the multi-color features brimming in his cup.” By this he means he accepts and enjoys the diversity of the nation.  I don’t know what to say about his last line.

On The Reservation

Over the summer I went camping to an amazing place called Lake Cushman in Washington (state). I’m not sure if it was an Indian reservation but the territory was owned by Native Americans. The place was extremely beautiful and was by far the best campground I’d ever been to.  There was a lake nestled in a huge chain of fresh pine-green mountains. It was said that the lake formed from glaciers that melted over time and that the valley that now holds millions of gallons of water was once a small town(according to the campfire stories you can even find houses and human skeletons if you were to dive to the bottom.). The water was crystal clear and little islets stood randomly here and there. Tree trunks were visible in the shallower water and when I was treading water in the deep I could feel cold currents brush against my feet that would send chills down my spine.

At night the only things to fear were cougars or bears but neither of those is as scary as the perils of a big city. As we drove away from the wilderness I began to see houses. Most of these were inhabited by Native Americans. They were small, no larger than a trailer and the houses were surrounded by all kinds of trash. Old bikes, broken down cars, canoes and fishing nets adorned the luscious green backyards of the Indians. It didn’t make sense, there were trees everywhere and it felt like we were in a forest but somehow everything looked dirty. I remembered reading in 3^rd grade that Natives never wasted anything so I assumed that all of those things were going to be used in the future. But now that I think about it I realize that the garbage trucks that passed by my sister’s house every Tuesday morning (my older sister lives in Poulsbo, Washington) probably didn’t drive to the reservation.

Once I went to a powwow with a friend in the Suquamish tribe (we read about those guy) it was pretty fun. They had a ton of fry bread, smoked salmon and thousands of different types of items associated with Native American culture such as bows, arrows, furs, skins, and wood carvings. There were several performances and the whole thing was just awesome.

Beat Street was Sweet!

Beat Street!!

We’ve finally finished watching the whole movie and I must say that I was disappointed with the ending. The movie was really entertaining with the b-boys and the graffiti.  It’s a perfect combination of awesomeness!! But…I don’t know if it was just my stupidity or my inability to find the story line in movies but I saw no point to the movie.  What was it about? Did I miss the part where they have a sad moment and work hard to overcome it? The story didn’t have a climax and if it did it was probably very vaguely touched upon. If anything it might have been the part where the graffiti writer falls in the train tracks and dies. But that wasn’t even sad. The movie would have been a lot better if the main character’s younger brother would have been the one to die. But somehow the movie was fun to watch. It must have been all of the singing and dancing. Hmmm.. I feel like I keep contradicting myself saying that I liked it but it was pointless. But I recommend it. It has cool music and the dancers are awesome.

Hungry For Attention

Richard Wright, in his early years was a mischievous little brat.  The book “Black Boy” is an autobiography by Richard Wright that starts off in the “four-year- old days” of his life. At this age he’s just as curious as any other young child so it didn’t really surprise me when I read that he began playing with the fire. But before I knew it (well, forth page of the book actually, second to last paragraph) he lights the whole house on fire! Now, I assume that most people think he’s gone too far by now but hey; he’s a curious little kid. He probably knew that it would be bad to burn the house down, in fact as soon as the fire grew he ran under the burning pile of wood and stone to avoid being beaten! But still he was too young to think in depth about the possible tragedy that could be bestowed upon him from playing with fire. Children in those days watched grownups handle fire every day they weren’t aware of the possible harm that fire could cause. I honestly doubt he was looking for attention; kids who look for attention tend to whine and annoy people. Therefore I will defend Richard Wright and say that I believe his tragedy was actually just a simple accident caused by the innocent unawareness of a young child. I think the same goes to his drinking rampage. He was just influenced by the older people in society. If he wanted his mother’s attention he’d get drunk and go home and yell at his mom saying it was her fault. He actually tries to conceal that fact that he’s been drinking which is a clear sign that he doesn’t want his mother bugging in on his business. But maybe he does feel lonely so he looks for comfort in alcohol. But I wouldn’t know, I ain’t no drunkoholic.  

Jay and Nick

Jay and Nick, the two protagonists of the story had a special relationship. They met in an awkward situation when Nick unknowingly talks about Jay to a stranger who turns out to be Jay. They were close friends, in the end of the story we find out that Nick was Gatsby’s only friend. And when Gatsby id dead, Nick realizes that his friends Tom, Daisy and Jordan turn out to be bogus people.

In the beginning of the story it seems like Jay is using Nick to get to Daisy. At first Jay throws the most amazing parties in the universe, hoping that daisy will show up to one of them. But as soon as he realizes that Nick and Daisy are cousins he starts to invite Nick to his exaggeratedly fancy parties.   He does this with the intention of befriending Nick, thus making it easier to get to Daisy. Sure enough he gets what he wants; sadly this leads to his death. Near the end of the story though, Jay seems to develop a true friendship with Nick.

Nick never really used Jay, he was attracted to Jay’s mysterious aura, and was fascinate by his luxuries. Throughout the novel he is trying to figure out where Jay’s wealth comes from. When Jay dies Nick proves to be one of his only friends when puts together a funeral for his friend.