79) Blog for an entire month besides February

Hooray for me!
The end.
Word.

Naw, I'm joking. You guys get more of a finish than that.

I have to say, I did not think you guys would enjoy the revival of this blog as much as you did.
Then again, you all complimented it
before my posting became sporadic.
In any case, I just want to thank you.
Without you, I wouldn't have as much drive to write.
It's always flattering to know someone admires your work.
I'll see what I can do about keeping my ego in check.

Before going on this month long stint,
my work was suffering.
But this was basically P90x for writing.
I feel confident that I have a gift (of sorts).
I am a writer; I have no doubts about that now.

Some of you may have noticed I didn't post on St Paddy's Day.
It wasn't because I was drunk.
It was because the majority of you were.
I don't write to an audience that's not paying attention.
That's my excuse, and I'm sticking with it.
Besides, 30 days is a month about half the year.

A note about the poems, stories, and essays featured this month.
Yeah, those were basically my fill ins for days I felt too busy or uninspired.
Like my regular posts, some where more popular than others.
In a way, I'm glad I occasionally got lazy.
It gave me an excuse to put out my actual work.

So, what's next?
Welp, I'm taking a break, but it might not even last a whole week.
I still have a lot of posts I want to write.
Topics from hip-hop, sexuality, and race as usual.
To be specific though,
there's a post about Drake I've been sitting on since the fall
that desperately needs to be written before it becomes any more irrelevant.
There's also my Discovering Race series I need to continue.
I don't care if those are popular.
They're more of a self-discovery exercise I'm sharing with the world.
I can almost predict catching flack for one of them, though.
Suppose we'll find out in the coming months.

Again,
thank you for helping me make this month of blogging a successful one.
And don't forget to give me suggestions for post.
I have a box that yearns to be filled.
....yeah, I know what I wrote.
Ok, my dear friends [and associates].
Til the next one.
Word.

A Fashionable Post

My school is having their fashion show tonight,
so allow me to write vaguely today.

Most people know I own mostly funny t-shirts.
Some wouldn't consider that fashionable,
but I like to think of it as an off-kilter style sense.
I like to think I match well with the 3 cardigans and 3 hoodies I have at my disposal.
I could do better in the shoe department though.
Owning only 6 pairs of sneakers and 1 pair of dress shoes might seem modest,
but they are all over 1.5 years old.
My pair of Tan Air Forces have been with me for almost 5 years now,
and my blue Chuck Taylors have been around since freshman year of high school.
I just didn't actually wear them til I got to college.

Ok, so maybe I lack a certain gasp on appealing apparel.
I still have out-dated button up shirts from high school in my closet.
In my defense, I haven't worn them in at least a year... I think.
My 3 polos hardly get any play.
Same goes for the few dress shirts I have.
And like a true young man, I have one black suit, and the suit alone.

Now I'm depressed.
Now I'm realizing what a first world problem this is.

This is such a directionless post.

Can I just say I'm glad flannel came into my life,
as much of a hipster or lesbian that makes me?
I probably hated it in high school,
but it's such a go to option for me now.
I only have 4, but that have been good to me.
Especially you, blue and orange flannel shirt.
You are my favorite.

I'm not the only one that sees people walking down the street wearing something you like and want to snatch it of them right?
The only reason I don't is because I'm black
and doing such would reflect poorly on my race.
[insert appropriate emoticon and/or IM acronym]

I'm also know I'm not the only one that wants to tackle anyone you see wearing something you own, especially when you have it on the same day.

This is why I can get into shirts with nothing on them.
Anyone can own a plain red shirt or a lavender v-neck.
I need Uncle Sam pointing and saying "I want him" on my clothes.
Thank you.

Occasionally I think about wearing a dress.
You girls get to have all the fun.
This is probably why I have a slight urge to do drag.

Remember super long white tees and Jerseys?
Yeah, I never got into them either.

Snapbacks?
No thank you, sir.
I wear fitted hats I found on the bus
with a clear statement of irony.
Yeah... I didn't get into fitted caps while they were popular either.
I have a straw fedora that I adore to the death of me now, though.
I also have a collection of beanies from high school
that I revived because... yeah, that hipster thing again.
I'm such a poser.

Welp,
I think I've reached today's quota.
You guys have a good day now, ya hear?
Word.

Checker for Chubby

From a young age, I've been a firm believer
that big is as beautiful as skinny.
Never have I made fun of a fat person...
unless they started beef first,
then it's open season.
Shoot, I've even had my fair share of "big" crushes.
...no pun intended at all with that.

But there's something I've been wondering lately:
why is the idea of dating a bigger person so undesirable?
I understand the lust for a person with a fit physique;
they put in a lot of work (or have fortunate genetics) for their body.
However, pleasantly plump participants of the dating scene should be valid candidates for mates, too.

Traditionally speaking,
big women have naturally large posteriors and racks.
More times than not,
they're in proper proportion to the rest of their bodies.
Even more traditionally speaking,
flab was seen as a sign of wealth and prosperity
due to the lack of food for the common man of the day.
I'm thinking Louis XVII(?) era,
but I'm writing this too much on the fly to look it up.

I full support those who like bigger partners.
It is not a fetish.
The only time it goes too far is in the case of feeders,
assisting their partners reach ridiculous levels of fat.
That is true obesity.

Men are much more vain than women.
That's usually why you see hot women
with an out of shape guy.
They yearn for the inner.
Men are visual.
If it doesn't seem visually appealing, they want out.
Getting clowned by their friends doesn't help either.

Overall,
if you find a big girl or guy sexy
don't be upset with yourself.
Whether it be their confidence or size,
it's just something you're attracted to.

The Essayist: Boondocks Trinity

There was a time when I didn’t see color. It was beautiful. Those days in Newark, NJ during grammar and middle school seem so simple in comparison now. My best friend for the majority of those years was a Puerto Rican. He was one of the few non-black students in my school, but I welcomed him with open arms as my mother had taught me. It was only after I transferred during my 5^th grade year that I discovered that my friend actually held roots from Portugal. I had mistaken the Portuguese spoken in his home for Spanish.

Even still, I remained ignorant of race through my career at an almost entirely black middle school. It was not until high school that I began to see racial divides and tensions. Though the population was still predominantly black, there were decent amounts of whites, Hispanics, and Asian students. Before, the distraction of girls helped push racial issues to the side. In high school, there were no girls.  This factor allowed the gloves to come off. Slurs and jokes, ranging from race and social status to gender and sexuality, were thrown around freely even in the classroom.

The cafeteria was the perfect place to have free flowing discussions and to review popular culture and televisions shows. During the earlier years of high school, Chappelle’s Show was championed as the best show on television for its brutally honest jokes and sketches. It was popular because it delivered harshness with hilarity, the perfect prescription to a generation that hates to be lectured and wants instant gratification. I quickly began to admire Chappelle’s style. When his show ended on Comedy Central in 2004, a void appeared. It was an abyss created by the lack of a black voice exposing the problems in today’s society. In 2005, the space was filled by a new show on Cartoon Network’s Adult Swim lineup called The Boondocks. It became the new voice of the young black generation and my new inspiration.

I laughed uncontrollably at the world Aaron McGruder had created while appreciating the message that was almost hidden in each episode. It wasn’t until the show’s first season ended that I became aware that the show was based on the comic strip by the same name. I felt obligated, as a young black man who deeply wanted to find a voice to educate his peers, to immerse myself deeper into the world McGruder produced to bring his vision to light.

Having lived in a white neighborhood and gone to a white Jesuit elementary school in Columbia, MD, McGruder decided to attend a predominantly black high school (Henderson, “A.M. Biography”). He felt it necessary to connect more with his black community. After high school, he attended the University of Maryland to obtain “a degree in Afro-American studies” (“A.M. Biography”). According to Ashyia Henderson, McGruder’s The Boondocks first premiered on the Hotlist Online website in 1996, after which it appeared in his college newspaper, The Diamondback, until there was dissention between the school and McGruder (“A.M. Biography”). Still determined to have his vision shared with those around him, he began submitting strips to the popular Hip-Hop magazine The Source in 1997. Soon after, the Boondocks began running in newspapers around the country in 1998 after McGruder was contacted by Harriet Choice of the Universal Press Syndicate (“A.M. Biography”).

What makes The Boondocks such a stand-out strip are the characters that McGruder presents. The main characters of the strip are Huey, Riley, and their grandfather Robert Freeman, often called Grandad. I believe Huey and Riley may be based loosely upon Aaron McGruder himself and his brother Dedric respectively, although McGruder denies Huey to be his alter ego (Kang, “Down”). Much like the McGruder brothers, Huey and Riley are removed from the comfort of their black neighborhood in Chicago to a white neighborhood. They then struggle to adapt to their new surroundings in Woodcrest.

Having come from black schools all my life to a primarily Caucasian university, I find myself with a sense of displacement at times. I struggle as those around me don’t fully understand the workings of the world as I do. They don’t see the same undertones in the media or in day-to-day conversation. I can only laugh quietly to myself whenever a joke that would have flown freely in high school pops into my head while in my Theology class. Were it not for the few other black students on campus, I might find myself completely at the mercy of the white culture around me.

Of all the characters in the Boondocks universe, I connect with Huey the most. We both see the world through constant critique, never truly satisfied with its current state. He is as much of a radical and free thinker as the man he is named after, Black Panther co-founder Huey P. Newton. Freeman is also a play on the term freedman, used to describe a freed slave. However, Huey does not necessarily feel free; he believes his people still have a long way to go before they can truly advance as a race. He wants all his black brothers and sisters to succeed, just as I do. We both are looking out for the best interest of black people, even if means disagreeing with the choices our people make. He believes the government is to blame for many failures in America; conspiracy theories are his forte. He’s very preachy and rarely smiles. In one strip, Huey reads the newspaper, as he is a well-read individual. He sees his horoscope, which happens to be highly specific this day: “You will continue to fervently hope Al Sharpton cuts his hair so that he may be taken more seriously by the masses – the irony of which will escape you” (“All the Rage”, 17). Huey plays ignorant to the message, but the irony is that he too sports an afro and is often disregarded by those around him. Sometimes people just don’t understand the message you want to give them.

Huey and Riley represent the two extremes of the black community. While Huey is the revolutionary, angry black kid you can’t stand to hear, Riley’s character is almost so ignorant and stereotypical that you have to love him. He’s also a believable character because I have actually met people like him. He is obsessed with the street life and will do whatever he needs to remain true to his culture in the midst of suburbia. He often puts down Huey or completely ignores him. He is the kind of black person I love to hate, because they are the type most likely to embarrass the whole race and typically look for the easy way out. For instance, when Riley learns about presidential pardons, he thinks it’s his chance to get away with anything he wants. He even sits down to write a letter to ex-President Clinton to set up a relation until Huey interrupts to inform that only the current president can grant pardons. Riley then exclaims, “Great!!! Well, this is the last time I make an effort to participate in government!!!” (“A Right…”, 112). Stereotypical black people, like Riley, are only concerned with learning or helping when it directly benefits them. McGruder, Huey, and I all share a deep distaste for such acts of ignorance and selfishness.

While the Freeman brothers are near polar opposites, their grandfather Robert Jebediah “Grandad” Freeman is a balance between righteousness and ignorance. Since moving the boys out to Woodcrest, he’s tried to provide as best he can for them, though he doesn’t always understand them. During a short succession of strips, Grandad attempts to connect with Riley through the use of rap songs. Riley can’t help but sigh as Grandad says such things as, “…Then there’s that T.I. boy runnin’ ‘round talking about ‘You don’t know me.’ But do any of us really know each other? …. And that’s all Bill Cosby is saying” (“All the Rage”, 79). On a separate occasion, he takes the boys shopping and offers to buy Riley three pairs of Air Force Threes because they’re 80% off when his grandson says he’ll only wear Air Force Ones, a popular expensive sneaker at the time. While he is helpful, Grandad is often selfish and self-centered as well. He’s very protective of his orange juice; it is a full day’s worth of vitamin C after all. Then when his cousins left homeless by Hurricane Katrina come to seek refuge, he pretends to not be home even with his cousins at his doorstep. Grandad is truly diverse in character.

As with any brutally honest cartoon, show, or program, The Boondocks received its share of criticism. One beef McGruder held was with BET (Black Entertainment Television). He had always disagreed with the way they represented the black race with degrading music videos and other generally bad programming; he also disagreed with their overall monopoly on the black television demographic (Henderson, “A.M. Biography”). In one strip, McGruder pointed out that BET founder Bob Johnson said his network “does more to serve the Black community” than McGruder does. McGruder then shows a signal panel of a black behind shaking vibrantly “in order to follow the fine example set by Mr. Johnson” (“A Right…”, 50). One a separate occasion, McGruder touches on the BET buyout made by Viacom and has Huey call Viacom directly and request them to fire Bob Johnson so that BET can begin to head in a new direction, towards more positive programming (90). I, too, have felt that BET shames the race in the way the network depicts black people. With the recent addition of certain reality shows, BET is worse than ever. Before, I would turn the channel from a show I was poking fun at whenever a white roommate walked into the living room, not wanting to perpetuate any of the stereotypes the programming might contain. Now I’ve stopped watching BET completely, at least until it gets its act together.

Perhaps the biggest controversy The Boondocks comic strip faced was shortly after 9/11. When everyone else shied away from placing blame on anyone or criticizing the president, McGruder held no punches. On the actual date, he was busy on one of his usual tirades, this time against actress Vivica A. Fox. Two weeks later, the strips McGruder wrote to address the issue ran in the papers. For this portion of the strip’s run, Huey and his friend Caesar, the only other black kid in the neighborhood, watch the news coverage. Most of the coverage makes fun of itself, but Huey will interject his opinion as well when necessary. Later in the year around Thanksgiving, Huey is asked to pray over the meal: “In this time of war against Osama bin Laden and the oppressive Taliban Regime… we are thankful that our leader isn’t the spoiled son of a powerful politician from a wealthy oil family… and uses war to deny people their civil liberties. Amen” (175). In response to critics asking about the comparison of President Bush to bin Laden, McGruder pointed out that he never explicitly mentioned Bush’s name in that particular strip. He went on to say, “If the reader reads what I wrote and thinks about G. W. Bush, that means it’s f****** true!” (Lemons, “Creator”). McGruder goes on to say that readers shouldn’t be mad at him for drawing connections they made themselves.

Just as McGruder did, Huey and I both started our own sort of publications. I have The Wacko Monologues, a blog that I use to voice my own opinion on topics from race, sexuality, double standards, and taboos as well as other various topics. I like to pride myself on the tagline “Insight and Humor” for they are the best duo of all time. I also try to omit names as often as possible when I recount personal events, much like when McGruder alludes to certain public figures in his strips. Huey has his Free Huey Report which he uses as a vehicle to criticize the government, pop culture, and anything else he sees fit. In the comic strip, it is joked that he only has 12 readers, more than half of which only read it to disagree with him. When he has his neighbor, Attorney Thomas Debois, read his issue, it is believed that Huey takes “too many liberties with the facts to call [it] a newspaper” (“A Right…”, 70). When asked why, Thomas responds, “Well, how do you know G.W. Bush smoked crack?” (70). Huey simply argues if it was that unbelievable that Bush could have ever smoked (70). This type of social commentary is what McGruder needed to be shed in the comic section of the paper, Because I Know You Don’t Read the Newspaper according to the title of his first collection of the Boondocks strips.

As mentioned before, The Boondocks is also a television program. The comic strip has since been cancelled, as to make things easier on McGruder. The series has come under the same criticism as its still counterpart, but the two mediums have their differences. The most notable difference is the lack of strong stances on politics. McGruder attributes this to two factors: the nine month delay between the writing and animating process and deciding to ease up a bit (Braxton, “He’s Gotta…”). Because McGruder decided to go with an anime style for The Boondocks, the show is sent to Japan to be drawn (“He’s Gotta…”). Such a lapse of time makes it impossible to be topical on a regular basis. Another notable difference is the reduced focus on Huey as the story follows Riley, Grandad, and even other supporting characters in their neighborhood. Huey always narrates the story, however, for he holds the insight. This is how the story remains his as he interjects his own views and opinions on the actions of others.

If The Boondocks has taught me nothing else, seeing race is beneficial. It has allowed me to view the whole picture. I can be sensitive to different issues and know when others are offending me or passing judgments they may not even realize they are passing. This is why I value Aaron McGruder and Huey Freeman as much as I do: because they are lights of knowledge in the darkness that has become our ignorant society.

Through Dark Eyes

I've becoming slightly crippled by expressing my feelings on a certain social issue that I'll probably expound upon tomorrow. The post I had planned today is too lighthearted/trivial for me to focus on now. So, as a consolation, here's a comic series I created for a class back in 2010 inspired from the Boondocks. It's obviously not as good as McGruder's work, but it's matches the mood I'm in currently.

Without further adieu, please enjoy Through Dark Eyes.

Cruising Online

There is absolutely no shame in using online dating services this day and age.
If I remember the statistic correctly, 1 in 5 couples meet this way now.
So, allow me to portray my online experience to you.

I have never been too successful in the relationship area.
For the longest time, I was quiet
and had no clue of how to approach people.

Ok, that's not entirely true.
Up until high school
I found a girl to swoon over
and make her mines to some effect.
Attending an all boys high school
crushed what little game I had.
Then I figured out I was gay
and the difficulty level increased.
You remember my falling for straight boys post from last week.

In my whole dating career
I have had 1 girlfriend and 1 boyfriend,
both of which approached me on MySpace.
Things didn't work out for one reason or another, obviously.

When I got to college and made a few gay friends - all black -
they introduced me to a site called BGC: Black Gay Chat.
Go figure, right?
With it's blue layout, it was a dark and gritty place.
I stayed on the site for two years looking for a boyfriend
before realizing that "niggas ain't shit" from Newark to Baltimore.
The site was mainly comprised of black men,
but there were a few latino and "thugged-out" white guys.
More than half of the men on the site were on the DL.
By and large, they all just wanted sex.
After meeting with one in person,
I decided I wasn't down yet continued to look for shreds of decency.
It was a near fruitless search.
Don't get me wrong,
I had decent conversation with a guy in his 30s when I was 18.
We both agreed the age gap was too much,
so he acted as an elder gay in a sense.
I lost contact with him when I left the site.

About two years ago,
a friend of mine showed me a4a: Adam 4 Adam.
This site was a bit more
inviting and comforting with its orange theme.
There was more of a diverse crowd there,
though I was mainly contacted by black men.
The men there were more civil.
However, most of my conversations turned dull
once I figured out I had no real interest in them.
I met one guy in person that turned into a friend,
though I haven't talked to him recently.
There was another guy who I flirted with for half a year
before finally meeting in person.
We haven't talked much at all since the encounter.
I stopped using the site after that.

Now, for the past month,
I've found myself using OkCupid
after hearing a friend met his recent girl that way.
Their blue background gave me horrid flashbacks
but I do admire their matching system:
extensive amounts of questions to gauge personality,
detailed profiles to help introduce yourself,
and limits on how sexually explicit your pics can be.
I speared you the details of how many under the waist shots
I've seen from the other two sites,
but just know it's enough to turn a guy off.

I must say, I'm yielding next to no results from OkCupid, though.
Perhaps I'm expecting the trend of guys contacting me first to continue too heavily.
And while I am mildly upset, I'm shrugging harder than Kanye.
After being single for so long I've gotten used to it.
I've become such a solo artist that trying to sing a duet
seems like too much effort, and I can take it or leave it.

I'm sure there'll be that one to actually catch my eye one day
instead of a potential candidate to pass the time with.
Until then, I'm cooling.
Word.

Event Services Appreciation Post

Today's blog comes from a suggestion
via my very good friend and writing buddy
@Dry1313 on Twitter who simply wrote: Event Services.

For those of you who don't know,
Event Services is the department I work for on campus.
I've talked about them sparingly on the blog,
but I've never mentioned them by name before.
However, I'd like to take today to express my thanks.

I started working for Event Services May of 2009.
One of my roommates that year who worked for them
suggested I apply for a summer position
since I didn't want to go back to Jersey.
I have to say, the yearn to not return home
never yielded better results.

These past three years working for Events has been majestic.
I never realized how much work goes into
setting up and running a concert, lecture, or summer orientation
until I joined the team.
Granted, working those long hours
on mandatory calls all day and night Saturday
can bring even the happiest camper down,
there's always great coworkers to cheer you up.

That's really what this post is about.
I've made some of my best friends working for Events,
from a Theatre buddy I got to live with and grow closer with
to a guy who I share a love of video games and relate to emotional
to the friend I talked about in Friday's post
to my favorite white girl whose apartment I'm writing this in.
And of course there are many others who I'm glad to have met
and can't wait to see again.

While working during the year is cool, working during the summer is what I always look forward to,
maybe because that's when I start
but it's genuinely a great time
despite the hell we go through in June with freshmen orientations.
There are barberques and group "powwows" and much more bonding. It was during my first Events summer that I built a tolerance/taste for beer.
This can be seen as a good and bad thing,
but I just see it as allowing me to be more social.

Of course, from actually working as well
I learned a bit of leadership and responsibility,
especially over the past two years
with hoards of new faces coming and leaving our staff.
I like to think they mildly look up to me
like I admired the graduating seniors my first summer.

The thing I love most about working for Event Service
is that we basically are a family.
Even once you graduate,
you're always welcome to come back and work.
Ok, that doesn't sound as glamorous as I thought,
but trust me, it's a warm feeling to have.

The full timers on staff help foster this.
They're all charismatic and helpful.
A few of them I would even consider friends.
They're actually the only people on campus
I allow to call me Chuck.
It usually sounds ugly and mangled when others say it,
yet when they use it I just feel called to attention.
Even in the beginning when I didn't talk much,
I felt as if they got me.
I think that's part of the reason I stayed on staff.

For the longest time
I was afraid of my boss.
He is a fairly intimidating man;
he demands respect and pristine work.
But he also willing to crack a joke or two
when tensions aren't too high
or when an event is running smoothly.
I've even seen his compassionate side on a couple of occasions,
namely when I took a leave of absence around this time last year.
He assured me I'd still have a spot when I returned.
That's the essence of family I mentioned before.

Honestly, I don't think I could have asked for a better campus job.
I doubt any other student staffed department is as close-knit as us.
I mean, we live and work together over the summer;
you can't get any closer than that.
Word.