are you thinking what i'm thinking?

to come:

• WNBA
• clipboard activists

deuces.

walk of life.

so i told my homes the other day that we needed to go on a "walk of life." these walks, by definition should be completely random, so by dictating that we do one, i kind of defeated the spontaneity of it. but still-it's real.

what i call a walk of life is an experience. it's a time when you focus on the now. whatever pops into your head, your heart, your stomach, whatever, you satisfy it in that moment. it's charcterized by randomness (whatever that word means these days). i turn left, the convo changes. i turn right, maybe it's a new approach. you get it?

and, if i daresay must, it must, be at night. the night for me facilitates that restless spirit. the gotta go now. the these walls are driving me crazy. the nightime air awaits feel.

maybe it's a walk where nothing matters. it doesn't take itself seriously-there's no goal. maybe that sounds like the ruin of our generation, but i love that feeling. not just of not caring, but of not having to care. to be able to make one decision without thinking of its effect on another. i wouldn't call it irresponsibility, but maybe it's close. it's my secure recklessness. i welcome the uncertain. i'm not thinking about the 10 page paper, or the presentation, the problem set, the meeting, the notebook, the pencil-whatever. it's about me and all that other. a selfish little event that's mine.

the walk of life is a non sequitur. it's nothing like what you were doing before earlier in the day. you weren't thinking of going on one. it just happens.

so it follows that on this walk, you're accompanied by a down for anything kind of person. someone who isn't worried. it's not that he or she doesn't care, it's more like, what's the point?
this is someone that's chill, where the words come and go easy, and the next step is the best step.

since all (2?) of my walks of life have been in New York, it makes me feel like an urban adventurer. but an adventurer that doesn't get tired, pressed, stressed, or bored.
blocks upon blocks we walk. don't know just how far we've gone, cause we're looking forward, not back. and we don't see street signs cause they're not in our eyeline.

and it's a walk where distance matters. travel. explore. get the most mileage outta those $40 chucks. blisters, cramps, aches--and? please, move on.

personally? i've done one walk of life from west 4th st. to water street. think about it, please. one is the locale where ballers get to work. the other is just about certified wall street. just the differences in the places is enough, but the experience of walking into one realm of consciousness after another that's dictated by these hoods is something crazy. really. like did you just walk from the village, into chinatown, to the financial district? yeah i did.

my inaugural walk of life, and probably the biggest and baddest one, was crazy. don't really remember where we started, but we'll say around west 13th street. walked to the west village. the east river. around and around. then times square. yes. get into how real that is. walk back to 13th. then off again to a 7/11 on 23rd and Lex. it just gets realer and weirder. but always in a good way.

i wish i had a camera during these moments, but i always forgot them. and since it's so the essence of now, there's no turning back. so you just remember. like how one old, very possibly crazy dude came up to me and the aforementioned friend, saying real crazy stuff. "yeah, yall look good...yall eat p....." but you get the picture. i would say be prepared, but why? it's all in the not knowing. the oh shit, did that really just happen? "ignorance is bliss" works every time here.

and you just go.
it's.... "i want a chili cheese dog." "alright." "uhhh, let's just go this way." "sure." "you pick a direction." "okkkk, left."


it's really that simple. and perfect.

olympic moments. :: the gold is mine.

like i said before, i'm very hyped for the 2008 Olympics in Beijing. i love the chance to become a guiltless fanatic for sports that i usually change the channel on. Like swimming. only every four years will swimming grab my attention, sit me on the couch, and put the remote aside. it's intense, all that back and forth. and the men have something like the perfect Greek body. all triangular and such (shout out to 9th grade history with Mr. Tottenham for that tidbit). loving track and field is a given, even with all these dummies taking steroids and ruining their careers and legacies (paging Marion Jones...). and then there's gymnastics. everybody loves it. and who can forget the '96 Olympics when Kerri Strug nailed the landing on one foot. hello?! american gangsta she was.

which gets me to thinking: do i have any olympic moments in my life? where i snatched the gold, and stood over the opponent like Christian Laettner did to Aminu Timberlake, minus the stepping on the chest?

in 6th grade (actually, pretty much all through pre-k-12), i was a gym class hero. i killed on all those tests they made us take: sit-ups, pull-ups, push-ups, balance beam, agility. i could limbo (omg, i was such a beast at limbo, especially in 2nd grade), ball, all of that. and then there was this one game- TJ Wizards. allow me to explain the name and the game. I went to Thomas Jefferson Elementary School, hence the TJ, and our mascot was a wizard. so in this game, like 4 kids are picked to be the wizards. and they stand in the middle of the floor. now the rest of us commoners line up facing them on the other side of the gym. at the appropriate time, when the whistle was blown, or the wizards told us to go, we would try to run to the other side of the gym without being tagged. if the wizards got us, we were out. so basically, the last person or people who survived without being tagged were the winners.

the game started out real regular. a couple of back and forths with only a few people being tagged. but then gradually, everyone started to feel it. the wizards went harder, so we had to dodge harder, trying to figure out who would be an easy victim for them to pick, and kind of use them as a shield as we ran past. so when the game gets down to like 2 or 3 runners, that's when it gets good. that's when you see skill, not luck, get you by. you try to use somebody to block-you're out. and you're outnumbered. now if i remember correctly, i was one of the only girls left (like always, but i'm not bragging). i always felt cool being the athletic girl. it was a good different. finally, it got down to only me. it's the kind of situation where everyone's watching, and cheering, and you don't wanna let the crowd down. probably like how LeBron felt in his first NBA game. and yes i did just compare myself to the Chosen One. and?

so i'm trying to get to the other side. i'm on the far side of the gym, and the wizards are between me and my classmates. and even though i'm the only one left, the game's not over for me. i'm running, and there's a couple hands grasping at me. nah, you missed, come harder. yeah, i see you up front, how about a fake left go right? got it. now you look determined. stutterstep and spin, and i'm at the other wall. the wall? that makes me a champion. where's my medal?

i remember Peyton saying "You're amazing," as i finished the wizards off with my footwork. that's quite a compliment. i mean, who hears that from a friend in 6th grade outside the confines of a yearbook page?

so that was one Olympic moment of mine. but trust, i have others. like the basketball game at Grand Valley when chick was trying to get her inbound pass, and i went for the steal and basically laid her out. no whistle. no foul. and i stepped over her and got back into position. that was Olympic beast, i think. or the game against Berkshire, where we were losing. and i saw ms. ponytail in the short corner looking to take a 3. so i got over there, and sent the ball into the bleachers, like i was Misti May or something. i know they say if you block a shot you should try to get possession of it, but damn, that way felt better. that was Olympic beast.

those are just a few Olympic moments off the top, and i'm looking to make more.

i'm always going for the gold.

the NBA. where singing happens.

ok, my little brother (shout out to Ogeezi, Univeristy of Houston '12, football squad) put me onto this video of then NBA hopeful Shan Foster. he can't wait to go to the NBA. so he made a song about it. i love this and worry for him at the same time. how often these days do we see that kind of innocent passion to join pro sports? but he has to know that he will be clowned for the rest of his life. and his days as a rookie on the Dallas Mavericks (assuming they keep him) just got really real. like, he just loaded the gun and put it to his head. but that's just my opinion.

anyway, let Shan take you on the magical, soulful, journey of his NBA dreams.



"take you off the dribble, go past my man-i'm in the lane, now watch me--slammm."


i would marry this dude, if only for the inevitability of more laughs. youtube video and song for our marriage. actually, there would probably be a video for the engagement. honeymoon. first child. house. dog. new dinette set. we'd be stars. until the novelty wore off, and he became a living, droning, whining music box that needed a change of batteries. but i'll think positive.

he did.

you don't know my name.

To Whom It May Concern,

sorry, sir? i think you're mistaken. my name isn't sis. or ma. nope, not miss. definitely not baby. it's not purple shirt, black pants, stilettos. not short hair or brown skin. beautiful, gorgeous, sexy: those could be nice, but- not mine.

how are you supposed to catch my attention, then? good question. you might wanna wikipedia that.

nah, really though, dudes of the world.

i know you feel like those are the only words/phrases available to you, but i really think you can do better. you have to. or you're doomed to a life of retreating shadows and dirty looks.

so how do you get me (take "me" as universal for women) to stop. and then listen. with a little etc., when you don't know my name, and i'm not telling? it has to be something different.

I remember freshman year, i was 2 minutes away from my dorm. and on my street there were construction workers. as a freshman, all cautious and the like, i generally crossed the street to avoid those dudes, because a catcall is inevitable. like, i feel it's scheduled into their day. 12:30-lunch. 12:32-scope out. 12:37-leer and catcall. but i'm just guessing.

anyways, i stayed the path, looking straight ahead, trying to mean mug (side note: i feel like my mean mug is broken sometimes. people always asking me for directions). And this dude, Jamel (number's still in my phone) tried to holler. i ignored him quite strongly at first, but then he said "i love you," and i had to laugh. and stop. it was too cute then.

but even so, that's been used already, so you have to come harder. be interested without seeming lewd. be charming without being phony. don't grab me or impede my path (unless you're t.i., t.j. holmes, osi, and some other dudes with special privileges). but how. how?

maybe introduce yourself first, instead of making me feel that i'm the 10th girl in a long line of girls that you've hit on today. i know you're mindless when you drop a line like this: "hey ma. you looking real good right now. you probably get this all the time, but i'm really feelin you. so why don't you give me your number so we can discuss?"

no. you gets no number, no name, not even a slightly irritated smile with that. i'm just walking away. and you ask for my number before my name. does that make sense?

you could be persistent, aka bug the hell out of me, until i break down and acknowledge that we are both breathing the same air and let you get 8.7 seconds of my time. i don't care how determined a girl is to betray no emotion to a dude that's trying to scoop. keep going at her, and soon enough you'll see the almost imperceptible pull at the corners of her mouth, signaling a laugh, a smile, a word.

however, i don't advocate that approach. annoying is annoying no matter the intention and some women won't take it. believe me, i know ladies that hit.

approach. finesse. practice in the mirror, and i'll practice my response. be nervous. shy. personable. let me know you have something to lose. don't be a robot programmed to get the number and snatch the panties. you matter and i matter. act like it.

you'll probably get rejected a lot. no avoiding that.

and by the way, my name is...