Fifteen.

Ok, this one is short and sweet. Kind of. There's a reason. I promise you, you will find this hilarious. However, it will not be immediate. There will be an awkward silence (whoa, reference to my OTHER blog, go check it out) and then the endorphins dancing between your neurons will ignite. And you will understand why as you laugh at this. Ready? I warned you. Now then, let's get to it.

So I was working the other day. And we discovered that Band-Aid brand boxes now have...braille on them. No lie. Seriously. Now since a blind person can't read what I'm writing right now (unless there are computers with braille screens now) I won't be offending anyone. So my manager says to me, "Ok, I have a question. It's cool that the band-aids have braille on them now...but how do they find them?"..............................................................................ok, that's how long it took before the image registered in my head as hilarious. And she, a chubby anglo-saxon woman (yea, white and caucasian are now obsolete) proceeded to act blind for five seconds, walking swiftly down the aisle touching every product she could until she reached the band-aids. I was in tears.

Why? Suprisingly, not because of what she did. Because of the sheer logic behind it. How does a blind individual find a box of band-aids when they're located in the back of the store?? Sure, we could direct them, but what if they're stubborn as hell? Why did Band-Aid think that was a smart idea? Which brings up another question? How does a stubborn blind person find what they need? Even with their other four senses heightened, in a store with 60,000+ items (and ours is considered small) how does that work? And then it hit me. WHY don't stores have braille signs on the ends of the aisles? I won't even make a joke about that one. Think about it. Where's the logic??? Just like how we pay for 10 hot dogs in a pack and EIGHT hot dog buns come in a package. Or how, there's no saying of courtesy for when an atheist sneezes (Dane Cook lol). Or how Catholics give 10% of their earnings, yet they only go to church once a week (whoops, no offense, I have Catholic friends, that's why I can say that!).

My point? What's more backwards? The world...or the people living in it?

Fourteen.

AHHHHHHHHH! that's what's happening right now. why?? I'm cleaning my mom's room. no, not bedroom. i'm terrified of what i might find if i do. her OTHER room. cause her bedroom is not enough to contain all her articles of clothing, accessories, and *gulp* SHOES. I started at around one this afternoon. it is now past four. and i just finished with the shoes. why am i doing this? cause when you're offered 50 bucks, no questions asked to do this, the choice is obvious.

anyway, my bad for being AWOL. i'm currently going thru rehab. rather, breaking myself down and rebuilding from the ground up. I've felt so insufficient lately, i felt a need to refocus and figure out:

A. what the hell i'm going to school for
B. why the fuck i'm still working in retail
C. how to turn my writing into something worth being proud of...dammit.
D. why i'm still living at home.

what can i say? i'm mildly depressed. going to school while working AND living at home will do that to you. because, there is no reprieve from the endless mounds of bullshit. but as i just told a friend of mine in a comment on her blog, bullshit decomposes eventually. so i'm just trying to be patient. while simultaneously trying to speed up that process. no small feat, let me tell you.

what i feel like talking about today is....lil wayne. also known as, the man with NO talent. what, you're a lil wayne fan? too bad. he blows out the asssssssss. and maybe it's because i'm a poet. but just cause you can string a few rhymes together does not make you the greatest rapper alive. mind you, i get this from people all the time: 'i like him because i can't believe half the shit he comes up with!' my bad. in my next poem, i'll recite the entire alphabet and rhyme with the letter Z in the following stanza. cause, that's talent. no, i'm not hating. i'm just saying. there's lil wayne. then there's lupe. mos def. q-tip. talib. can we please stop pretending pointless metaphors and synthesized vocals are music? it was fun for a bit, but it's time to get back to business people. cut out the bull, and shine the light on real talent. for every "hot" wayne verse you can lay on the table, i can lay twenty "lukewarm" verses from the artists i just mentioned. and they'd still be hotter than him. i'm not hating. i'm just saying.

ok, enough with that rant. so tomorrow i just might be going to brooklyn. chillin wit my bud Sharina hopefully, and her uberly spectacular friends (that i haven't met. so how do i know they're uberly spectacular? cause they know sharina.) now, and i will ask this question. if you were to put all the artists of the world in one location, what would happen? would reality fold in upon itself and be reborn as something unlike anything any of us have every seen? would the sky turn purple and the grass turn white? would the Big Bang repeat itself and thus be proven? Or will the universe around said artists be revealed to be illusion? I mean come on. Green paper has monetary value. So anything is possible right?

Thirteen.

Good evening guys. Well, good morning as it's 2:30 in the am on sunday. Clearly, I have nocturnal blood flowing through my veins. Anyway, today was uneventful. Let's see....I woke up. Went to the karate school (I help teach tae kwon do to kids and I take classes myself), then came home. Helped mom with the groceries. Then got money out the bank. From which I went to work and entered what I like to call "6-hour depression".

Every time I walk into that facility, my blood pressure rises, I get a headache, and I suddenly crash. Good mood I was having before? Gone. I don't care if I just got some fifteen minutes before I walked through that door. All positivity is gone. It's just a part of working with retail. But I will maintain that once you work retail...you can handle anything. Because it builds one key skill: patience.

For example, I can't count how many people came up to the counter today. They dump their stuff on the counter. A line begins to form behind them. And you start ringing them up. And they say this: "What aisle is the [insert your favorite product] in?"

Pause.

Okay, now, the lost logic is very simple to find in this situation. Do not. I repeat. DO NOT. Come to my register if you don't have all your stuff. Otherwise, I get a line. And I either A) have to wait for you or B) have to call the manager for a void. Either way, it...ticks me off. And the other customers. Also, there's a reason why hugungous signs are hanging above each aisle telling what's there. So do the unthinkable and just...look.

Now let's say you have all your stuff. Kudos to you. But the rudest thing a customer can do is step to the register on the phone. Tell whoever you're talking to to hold on. Or, even better, "I'll call you back." Because then, I have to guess who you're talking to while you're talking. You don't have multiple mouths. You have one. And all my bluetooth geeks out there (I can talk cause I have one) don't think that makes things any better. In fact, it's worse. You already look like a crazy schizo. No need to add rude to that combo.

LAST BUT NOT LEAST. This goes out to all my bargaintards out there. I HATE people who walk in a store, buy a bunch of shit, and cause havoc about not getting a sale they "think" they should get. Despise them. Like I hate avocado or asparagus. Which is really bad. The only thing I hate more are the people that leave the store and come back five minutes later, expecting to skip a whole line of people just to get ten cents back from a product that didn't ring up properly. That's along the lines of how I feel about people who don't know how to discipline their kids.

Which brings me to my final point. I know Billy and Caitie are so adorable. I know Jaquan and Lanae are so cute. however, if they bounce one more ball down the aisle, or ring that bell one more time, I will be forced to step around the counter and tear their asses up. Seriously. And it amazes me, cause the parents stand there. Meanwhile their kids are acting all hella types up, and talking back. When I was little, if I even thought of thinking about talking back, a hand was already across my face. Or a belt was across that ass. What happened to that? Where has the belt gone? Now we have dog collars and shit. Beat them in public. Just once. And I don't mean a little wimp beatdown. I mean a "momma" beatdown. Cause we all know those hurt the most lol. I'm telling you, the embarassment alone will shape em up.

Okay, I'm done with my super-rant. Hope you guys laughed a bit. Next time: muumuu-wearing grandmas! seriously, i got some funny stories for you all! Thanks for reading!!! And remember: Check out my other links! On the right side of my page!

Twelve.

What's up readers???? Yes, it's been a minute. Get over it. You know you're happy that I'm posting again.

Tonight's blog will be about me. No seriously. And what I actually need from you all...are comments. I enjoy comments. They leave me with this warm fuzzy feeling. Then I realize I need to get a grip and I suppress that feeling until a later date.

So as I'm sure most of you know, I've chosen writing as my way to go. Why?? Well....several reasons. The first being it's the one thing I think about CONSTANTLY. No exaggerations here, I'm dead ass. I wake up with it on my mind and fall asleep only to dream about it. Doesn't that say enough?

The second is that it is very exciting to me. Ok, pause. I know some of you guys already complain that my blogs are lengthy at times. And that I use words above the 4th grade reading level. But listen, I'm bettering you. You are not only learning how to read (cause in 4th grade you were focused on shooting spitballs at your friends) but you're also learning how to enrich your vocabulary. And if you're reading this, you already know that my stuff is always worth reading. So before you start complaining about how boring books are, and how even more boring writing is, hear me out.

Writing for me isn't stringing together a bunch of subjects and predicates to make pretty sentences. It's art. It's taking an endless myriad of syllables and building from the ground up words to paint a picture. To create a work that speaks beyond the denotations of every word, and emanates with the connotations of my soul. And the souls of those that inspire me; from my family, to my friends, to my teachers, to my predecessors. I can't describe the joy I have after writing a new poem or blog or essay or whatever and being able to say, "I created that. This work was brought into existence with my hand." Sure, all that sounds very poetic, but, it is truly how I feel.

The final reason is the risk. I was not born for a typical 9 to 5. Nor was I born to settle for a "safe" job. There's a risk in pursuing writing that thrills me. It's the idea of a challenge. And to overcome that challenge and have my work be the reason behind that, I can't think of anything that would make me happier. So I will work hard to write the next great songs, novels, poems, speeches, and plays. I want to prove to the world that pursuing the arts does not mean "starving artist." Artists are no less important than politicians, teachers, or doctors. Without artists, this world wouldn't exist. Culture, tradition, and even civilization were built on the backs of visionary minds. So....we deserve a little more credit than we're given. And better opportunities than there are available. Ok, I'm done for now, but tell me, what you think. I especially want to hear from my artists. Cause, well, you guys rock.

Eleven.

Ok, lots to talk about. Ok, not really, well, not sure yet. We'll see lol.

FIRST OFF. Scroll down this page. Where it shows my picture, and says "View my complete profile" click that link. Now. Another page will pop up. Showing my OTHER blogs. It's ok, there's only one. It's called "Filling An Awkward Silence...Or Creating One." Click it. If you haven't checked it yet, do so. If you have been on the regular, and aren't a follower yet, become one. If you aren't a follower on this blog, become one as well. The tab is on the right panel as well. But back to "Awkward Silence." I have a new poem up, called "Metaphor". Check it. Love it. And follow. Also, do me the favor, and check out the blogs I follow. That includes "ADD Blogged Out", "Phoenix Rising", and Jesus C'mon and Grab the Wheel. If you're going to be online, become followers of their blogs as well, and learn some stuff while getting some good laughs. That way you can tell people your brain's deterioration to mush by digital destimulation is actually being slowed because of us. LOL

Anyway, I told my mom I wanted to pursue writing. And I got the biggest subtle shutdown in history. Here's my opinion. I have a talent. I wake up every morning, and I feel like doing it. I grab a pen and paper, and that's what I do. I can lock myself in my room for hours, and write. Nonstop. I can do it anywhere. I NEVER get tired of it. If that's not an indication that this is my calling, then, I don't know what is. I want to write songs. Poetry. Blogs. Journals. Articles. Speeches. Novels. Eventually Scripts. SO if you know anyone who is willing to help a brother realize his dream, or if you have any advice, PLEASE let me know. Seriously. Cause this list of people I have to prove wrong is getting LONGER AND LONGER lol.

Ok, now I remember what I originally wanted to talk about. The arts. Why on earth are they considered not a real profession, when this world is designed entirely out of art? Why are so many artists bound to the title "starving artist?" And why are people always assuming that's what a person who pursues the arts, be it music, writing, dancing, acting, etc, that you'll end up a "starving artist?" Is it starving doing what I love to do? I'm just saying.

Also, here's my theory on the whole art thing. The reason why the art community is not respected as it should be is because unlike every other field, it's made up of a bunch of individualists. We take pride in being an individual, and in fact, that's what our crafts thrive off of. However, it's also what defeats us. Because artists generally do whatever the hell they want to, they don't band together. But think about it? What if we did? We'd be like abstracts possessed. I mean come on. Artists will always be needed. Cities need building, buildings need building, newspapers need stories, advertisements need pictures, singers need dancers, producers need singers, etc, etc, etc. Perhaps if we agreed to conform to each other for once, we'd be the force to reckon with that all our metaphors and imagery proclaim us to be.

The arts are just as real of a profession as any other. In fact, maybe even more so. Think about it. Alright, that's all for this one.

Ten. The Clarke Special

So I've given up keeping count of the days. I'm not being consistent enough to even attempt that. Tonight's blog was specially requested by an old friend of mine, who's name *cough* SHARINA *cough* i will not say. anyway, today's discussion, well monologue, is about me. lol j/p, oh wait, SIDEBAR:

artst.com
"Cause it's not about me, it's all of you guys"

lol it's an actual website, and it allows artists of all kinds to showcase their work. so if you're an artist, check it out.

back to the main topic.

SOPHOMORIC STUPIDITY!!!!!!!!!!

Young love...this is referring to ages 17-24....what is it about us that during this time we want EVERYTHING. Every single aspect of every kind of relationship out there. Ok, there's basically two. You have the fuck buddy system. And the ride or die club. Before age 17, most kids want fuck buddy. They're fast asses don't even know where rod A is supposed to go, and could very well end up sticking it in Slot C instead of B cause they can't read the fine print, but they still wanna get down. With everyone. It doesn't matter if girl went out with their best friend last week, or if dude just gave two of ya girls the business....they wanna get er dun.

Then you have what exists after the age of 24. They lookin for LOVE. No fuck buddy. No, let's mess around. No. They'll do it, but they eventually want love. So put on this front that goes like this:

"I'm 25 and so I've suddenly gained years of maturity and understand that life isn't about eating every pie within a 50 mile radius." or "I'm 25 and so I've suddenly gained years of maturity and understand that life isn't about seeing how many inches i can fit in a confined space during an hour timespan."

Ok, that was extremely not cool. That's the point. Then you have us. The one's who want the relationship, but can't stay faithful. The ones who get caught up in puppy love, and as soon as things go bad, they either:

A. give up as soon as they see a dark cloud on the horizon
B. pretend they don't see the clouds and just hope they'll pass.

Sophomoric stupidity anyone?

How is it, that we can possibly desire commitment and yet we can't handle all the tough stuff that it entails? what is it about us wanting "no strings" while we're sewing one another up to those very strings? We get so wrapped up in our wants and our desires that wen things start to fail, we contradict ourselves to fit the occasion. So we not only start lying to whoever we're with, but to ourselves. Never, ever cool. So where does that leave us? Unsatisfied until our 25th birthday? Or are we overthinking it? What if they perfect guy/girl is right there in front of us? And instead of looking for that "mature" person, or the one with a herculean libido, we just look for the nice, interesting people and get to know them.

But we can't do that because...we either think ahead...or think back. We think "Ah, marriage, entrapment, aghhhhh!" or "Cheating, infidelity, drama, uggghhhhhh!" But think about it. Is it really that serious? Or are we getting so caught up in what our age group deems is "ideal"? Clearly, we don't know what the hell we're even talking about.

Nine. (Day 9?)

Yeah, I know, so much for being consistent right? Trust me there was alot going on, so there wasn't as much writing or even thinking going on. But as you can see, I'm back.

So let's see....ah yes. Rutgersfest. This past friday had to have been one of the most amazing experiences ever. Not only was it raining cats, dogs, and parakeets, but half the carnival's population was either drunk, high, or both. definitely a sight to see. Imagine the sky literally sobbing upon the earth, and all across the campus parking lot (where the carnival was held) rutgers kids are getting half naked, some barefoot, dancing and screaming while getting drenched to their drawers. Everyone is laughing, umbrellas are being abandoned, people are jumping in puddles, couples are making out. About half of the people are drunk red, or glass-eyed high, and are either as chill as chill gets....or angry as hell. It was definitely amazing.

Then....there was the concert. So who better to perform in a thunderstorm for jaded college kids than N.E.R.D.!!!!! not only did we wait an hour for them to come out, but the rain kept stopping and starting. The crowd was insane! Me and my friends slowly made our way to the front, which was made slower the further up we moved due to the sheer number of people trying to squeeze into the same space. You know that physics law that says "Two masses can't occupy the same space?" Well, try hundreds of kids trying to occupy that front row. Claustrophobic much?

So during the wait, people were pushing. Momentum, being the bitch that she is, meant that if a small group of people shoved in one direction, everyone beyond them was going in that direction. So me and my friends were shoved and crushed. Alot. It was insane. Then people had the nerve to get mad. So at one point I had to kindly say the following:

"You're at a fuckin free concert with already fucked up college kids still lighting up milds and cigarettes. It's obvious what you're getting into! If you don't like it, leave!"

Glad to say that several people did indeed get fed up enough to leave, which meant we moved closer lol. Sorry, but I just like having a good time. When that good time is messed up, I'm no longer nice. Seriously. The people who actually got serious and mad are the same ones that should have just come with "I have a stick up my ass" labels on their foreheads. Jeez.

Anyway, there was also these group of girls who tried to manhandle their way to the front of the crowd cause they were shorter than everyone. Memo: If you are under four feet tall, bring a step ladder. Or get there early. Cause you aren't getting through. They got mad, so one of them smacked me in the neck. No joke. I ignored it at first...until the girl started cursing me out. So I turned around and politely cursed her out. Then her fat friend wanted to try and use her ass to push her way past me and my friend. So at one point the crowd lurched forward. Knowing it was going to push back, I dug my feet in, set up my elbow, and shoved the mess out of Ms. Mega Piggie. I can still remember how digging into her spine felt. Needless to say, they gave up after that.

One of their friends was so drunk, she was threatening to kill people in the audience. I think she was dead ass, cause when her friends tried to calm her down, she started choking the shit out of them. It was the funniest thing I ever seen. Then another girl in front of me and my friend started wildin out cause people were pushing up. This wasn't funny cause she had an umbrella and at one point tried to hit my friend with it. Later on she was trying to choke people with it. Apparently choking is the new anger management system. What would have been funny is if I snatched her umbrella and flung it into the crowd. Hmm...I'll remember that for next time.

Anyway, during the show, I saved a girl's life, participated in a mosh pit with my friend, almost got stepped on, and successfully lost all my friends in the crowd. Oh, and people were crowd surfing like crazy. It was awesome. All kinds of shit were getting thrown, from shirts and sneakers to bottles of soda. I was waiting for a blackberry to go flying. That would have been it. I did catch a shirt though that the stage people were tossing into the crowd. It was so cool.

N.E.R.D. murdered that concert! By the time it was over, I was out of breath, in pain, had an exploding headache, and still wanted more. That was the coolest free concert ever. Definitely not something that I will forget. If I ever meet N.E.R.D. in person, which i might if my writing makes it somewhere, I will have to tell them all about my incredible experience.