Occupy Philly

On a trip with my students visiting colleges in Philadelphia we stumbled upon something interesting...I took the chance to have a teaching moment and tell the students about some current events. Sadly a lot of them had no idea what it was really about.
I hope they were listening; if I was in high school right now I'd be protesting all day. I wish I was more political at that age and had someone to expose me to that way of thinking. At least now I can be that person.

Save the libraries part 2

Daily news article
This is an article from the Daily News. My mother was interviewed because she got laid off by the Queens library a few years ago.

November

I can't believe it is nearly November.where does the time go? In some ways this year went by so fast, in others, not fast enough. Laying in my bed staring at my newly painted walls reminds me how a little effort and spontaneity can go a long way. I'm a person bent on planning and preparation but this was completely on the fly. Bought paint yesterday-did the damn thing today.I like that feeling. Sometimes thinking is overrated.

Harlem World

When I hear people say teachers are just babysitters I must resist my urge to punch them in the face. Teachers, counselors, and any staff that work in school are so much more than what their job description implies. That became even more apparent to me today at work...

One of the high school seniors I work with was shot over the weekend. It wasn't fatal and he will live but it was a wake up call and a loud one. The advocacy and counseling I do with my students is serious. The problems these teenagers face are real. There is no babysitting involved when there is a life on the line.
I never knew anyone that was shot before today. I never knew anyone personally that was shot. I never had a one-to-one conversation with someone that was shot. But now I have. I can't help but think how every word I say to these kids means something; I hope they stay longer in the after-school program instead of hanging out on the block, or think twice about getting in that car with their friend, or not going to that party at 1am in The Projects.
The student that was shot over the weekend was not the best student by a long shot. He was disruptive, disrespectful, and vulgar, but he was also smart, and funny, and creative. He would be act tough in front of his friends and become a clown when he had and audience but speaking with him one on one I realized he was much more. He was clever, and had ambition. The most challenging thing about my job is working with bright students on the honor roll, getting outstanding grades and seeing them act like thugs in the street and in the classroom, when I know deep down they really aren't. They have so much potential, yet they are still befallen to the subversive social atmosphere of their community.
I knew working with students in Harlem would be tough but I honestly thought for different reasons. The students are not that bad, I never got attacked, or even cursed out directly. Most of the students are just closed off and defensive from years of people constantly abandoning them and not caring for them. When I started my new job over the summer all I would get in response when trying to engage the students were comments like  "who are you mister? get away from me" or a non verbal cold shoulder. I stuck with it though and didn't give up. Even when my exact case-load is of AP Juniors I still divide my time helping out the struggling Seniors, and I think they finally noticed.
For the past couple of weeks HCZ has pushed an intensive writing workshop in order for the seniors to finish their  Personal Statements for their college applications. I was working 11 hour shifts, going through regular class hours and staying for after-school programming with the students, and I even came in last Saturday for a few hours as well.
 It was like pulling teeth for some of the students. They didn't seem to have one introspective bone in their body! We would tell the students to find something about them that is unique, a story of personal triumph or resilience, a time when they were so interested in a topic they researched in outside of school hours, but they would give us blank stares. I knew that just growing up in Harlem they all had a story to tell of resilience. New York City is tough, but Harlemites are a special breed of hard-core. They are the Marines of disenfranchised .
One of the Seniors I was working with I had never actually seen before, which is odd because there are only 62 of them in total. The seniors got out of school at 3pm and he would never show up for after-school (where I primarily work), so when I sat down to work with this student I was pretty much a stranger approaching another stranger. We sat for a long time, I would ask questions- he would give on word answers. He was soft-spoken and quiet, reminded me of myself actually. All he had written was an outline of traumatic experiences his family went through while he was growing up. The page was full. Yet he said he had no story to tell. I kept with him and we got a few sentences down, the beginnings of an opening paragraph, then we had to break for lunch. He seemed engaged in what we were doing, but also eager to get away from it all.
I was sitting in another classroom with some coworkers and other students eating the food, the school ordered for us all when I heard a voice calling my name from the doorway-
 "Nick! Come on, what are you doing? Let's go" The student said.
I couldn't believe my ears. He was looking for me! He finished his lunch in 5 minutes and was ready to continue on his essay. My heart was silent, it had skipped so many beats that instant I could hardly breath. I had a breakthrough! One of the students finally accepted me and better yet wanted my help, me! It was an incredible feeling that reinforced my reason for working at the school.
We educators are more than babysitters, teachers, counselors and mentors. I can't help but think how fragile this students sense of trust is for an adult, and it warms me to think that he trusts me enough to share his life story and allow me to help him write it.
I fucking love my job.

The Stars my Destination Part 2

I know it's mad late...but here it is:
An experience I will never forget. Jumping out of a fucking airplane on my 25th birthday!
The week leading up to the jump was the most nerve racking part. I told all of my coworkers, all of my friends and some of my family so I had to jump. There was no going back on it or my reputation would be worse than John McCain's 2008 campaign. Whenever someone would ask about it my heart would pound as if a Mack truck was barreling down the road ready to hit me. To say the least my stomach was in knots so tight I could barely sleep that week. It was the week hurricane Irene came, but I had more important things to worry about...possibly splattering on the ground on my birthday!

We set out early in the morning, the air was still clear and fresh from hurricane Irene's cleansing the weekend before. My brother Bobby provided the trash talking while my good friend John added the vulgar soundtrack and ambiance of smoke. I guess they were morale body guards, staying to make sure I didn't run down the street screaming my lungs out- "FUCK THIS !"

They couldn't jump because they are two big black guys and it is illegal for them to jump out of a plane, it's considered rape in 23 states...No, they weigh too much to jump tandem(attached to a highly trained professional). They'd have to take a bunch of classes and jump solo, pack their own gear and everything.

It was an un-nerving and surprisingly smooth two hour ride out to the far away land of Long Island. We arrived at our destination in a state of confusion. A dirt road and a trailer. But the GPS was correct. "Holy shit, what did I get myself into" was the first of many thoughts to enter my head. We walked into the trailer and greeted by what looked like characters straight out of Deliverance. If it wasn't for the cute receptionist with the British accent I would have ran all the way back to Queens. Maybe that's why they hired her, because they know they look like a bunch of backwoods rapist...

So after I signed a million copies of  documents insuring me that I am not insured and that I am aware of the crazy, stupid, fucking, insane thing I was about to do, it was time for The Video...I had to watch a 5 minute video of the owner yet again telling me how uninsured I am and legally bound to die at my own risk if fate so chose to do so. It was okay though, the owner looked like a ZZ Top reject so I felt really at ease!

The ride up was surprisingly calm for me. The plane was about the size of an elevator car turned horizontal. Just enough room for the pilot, some other jerk who stole my idea to go skydiving, his tandem jumper, my tandem psycho and myself. I still don't remember my tandem guys name, but I do remember him smoking a lot.
"SO hot many times have you jumped?"
"You don't wanna know...haha I'll tell you when we land."

He never told me. That jerk-hole.

We were cramped in this tiny plane sitting yoga style feet to feet. It took about 15 minutes to reach "the drop  zone." It felt so long I was getting impatient. Looking out the window didn't help. Seeing the trailer go from actual size to lego, and then microscopic did wonders for my mental stability. Once the plane took off I already got myself hyped. Didn't the pilot know I was ready to jump now! and not in 15 minutes?

It came like an alarm clock while fast asleep in the dead of winter. It was go time. The door was open. I saw the other jerk roll out of the plane, so I knew it was my turn to shimmy toward the bright open space in the plane that lead to oblivion. What did he say again? Keep my head down, tuck in my arms and shoulders, step out onto the wheel and roll out the door. Fuck. Fuck my life. Fuck me. Fuck me sideways...                                          

The Stars My Destination part 1

Tomorrow I will be doing two things that I have never done before.
First- Turn 25
Second- Skydive
My heart is racing just thinking about being on the plane 10,000 ft above ground. I get butterflies going on roller coasters! There is no turning back now, they already have my non-refundable deposit.
This has been quite a year for me so why not continue with the trend and do something insane?
I wonder if I will have a different outlook on things post-jump.
After I got jumped back in February I definitely lost some of my fear and gained some assertion in my demeanor. My friend John even says I walk with a bit of swag now, but I think that's because I work in Harlem now. I am glad to say that I love my job and more importantly proud of it.
Such an interesting year it has been...what else is in store for me?

Mayhem and Props

Attack the Block- A movie you should watch. Imagine Super 8, but better and takes place in the projects of South London.

Yes, I have been watching a lot of movies lately. Will get back to writing soon.

Stefan Urkel is back

More videos should be like this, funny, playful, and full of dance

Hey Oscar Wilde, It's Clobberin' Time

It's Clobbering Time!

This is a fun and interesting blog that showcases different artists interpretations of  great characters in literature.

Secret Santa

 Janelle Monae- Cold War
This song and video is just what the doctor ordered right now. Heartfelt, honest, painful, rings true.

Farewell Mr. Nice Guy

Two redwoods planted in concrete
pavement dismantled by broken feat
couldn't never couldn't never won't
echos of a burning factory
like the typewriter's eulogy
written in the sand
leaves may fall and singe purified hands
bathe renewed in the ultraviolet light

Esoteric Meandering

I have been thinking about turning this into a private blog. I'd rather share my thoughts with a few select friends and family. If you are one of those people send me a comment or email so I will put you on the V.I.P. list. Will probably create another blog specifically for my writing, this one started out that way but turned into something else entirely.

On a side note, I have been thinking a lot about Karma lately. Does it really pay to be a good person or just not get caught? Sometimes I wonder how many people I pass by on the street that are murderers or cheaters or thieves that got away with it. Will they one day lose it all or be caught? There are some people that can do immoral things and not even bat an eye about it. Fortunately I am not one of them. Even on my worst days when I feel like tripping a starving orphan or taking money out of the homeless man's cup, I stop myself. I don't just stop myself because I am fearful some unforeseen consequence may or may not come back to me tenfold. No, I let little Timmy hobble pass me and refrain from taking old Sunshine Bill's drinking money because I know it won't really make me feel better, and I'm just not a douchebag. As much as I wish I were, I am not related to Kanye West.

On the flip of that thought I also DO feel the need to good when the time presents itself. I also wish I wasn't capable of such feats, but alas I am. Now where does Karma fit in to all of this? I still have no idea, in fact I am probably further from the answer now than I was when I started this post.

Goodbye

The end of an era
goodbye to insanity
good riddance to this dream
say hello to the serene
On the shores of better life
at the cusp of new beginnings
silent whispers in the night
cleaning closets of old memories
telling stories of what could have been
Goodbye to future's past but the present is still calling me

Growth

Great things are not done by impulse, but by a series of small things brought together.
Vincent Van Gogh

Visitations of the mind not travelled

As June is on it's way out I sit here an wonder where did it go? This has got to be the fastest a month has past before my eyes in recent history. There are still a lot of changes on my horizon. It seems that this year is just chok-full of them. It is for the best though. I may be on the verge of a major shift and returning back to school (finally!). I am excited at the prospect of learning anew and hitting those books. This time around I will make sure I hold a GPA of at least a 3.5. The sky is the limit.
This past weekend I had the privilege of reconnecting with an old friend. I attended his younger brother's high school graduation and instead of boredom, inspiration was my destination that day. Sitting in the halls of Hofstra University I was reminded of the role of continuing education. The speaker, whose name escapes me at the moment, drove home the importance of living a full life and giving the young (more like babies) graduates advice on how important their next 4-6 years will be. I was reminded of my own youth, and that although I may feel older at times, I am still only breaking through the shell of this vast egg of maturation and journey we call life.
Fast forward to that night I sat with friends and those I consider family enthralled in a perfect mix of grilled food, the smell of burning charcoal dying in the wind, great company, and even better weather. We ate until our stomachs were about to burst, laughed until our sides hurt,and debated about the newly instated Gay Marriage bill in NY among other things. Although for the first time we didn't dance the night away, I can take solace in the medicinal scratch of my mosquito bites and think what a great way to start the summer...

Summer movie list

As the season changes yet again, on this day, the first day of summer I feel that it is only appropriate to talk about a few movies on the horizon I am excited about. When it is 90+ degrees outside what is the best way to stay cool but in a dark air conditioned room filled with strangers.
The first on my list is Pariah- http://trailers.apple.com/trailers/focus_features/pariah/
This is about a young african-american woman struggling with her family and society as she tries to hide the fact that she is a lesbian. This is definitely a topic not talked much about in the black community. The trailer shows dramatic scenes of the inner turmoil Alike (pronounced Ah-lee-kay)must face as she leaves her house dressed like a "perfect little girl" in her mothers eyes, and changes into baggy jeans, a jersey and a fitted cap while at school. I am interested to see how this movie plays out because it skews the lines of gender roles for a typical inner-city african-american family.

Second up is Beats Rhymes and Life- http://trailers.apple.com/trailers/sony/beatsrhymesandlife/
A documentary about A Tribe Called Quest. Alas, I have to admit I did not grow up with them on my Walkman. I was not flipping to Side B when Side A ran out for Q-Tip and company. I spent my days of youth outside getting into trouble (yes although I was shy I was a bit of the dare-devil in the I-don't-really-care-what-right-or-wrong-is kind of way) or inside playing Mario Kart. Even though I was born with rhythm I didn't grow up listening to music all that much. Nonetheless I am excited to learn more about what I missed out on.

Third is a throw back to my unconventional youth- Trigun: Badlands Rumble http://trailers.apple.com/trailers/independent/trigunbadlandsrumble/
Yes, this is an anime (there goes half my audience) but this series was part of a generation of anime that knew how to tell a story. With a short length of 26 episodes Trigun takes you on a cyber-punk meets old western mystery with a dash of romance journey full of artfully crafted animation, off the wall action, and a soundtrack that is equally as colorful and diverse as it's cast of characters. Hopefully this movie will be able to bring all the characters back to life for one last adventure that is reminiscent of the good ole' days regardless that the voices are dubbed in English.

That about sums up my movie list for now. I could talk about the more mainstream films like Harry Potter or Transformers but you've all seen the endless commercials and subway ads. I decided to bring something to the table not everyone would be familiar with. Who know, maybe this will be a regular thing and when I actually see the movie I will give it a complete review. For now I hope these movies will live up to the trailers.

Radio

As part of an event with MIC-CLUB,(the open mic I have been going to for the past month and a half)I was interviewed and read one of my poems on an internet radio show. No it was not Radiolab or This American Life, not yet.I was super nervous but check it out nonetheless. My interview is on PART 3 and you can skip to minute 35 or just skip forward until you hear an Irish woman by the name of Frances, the engineer of MIC-CLUB. Enjoy!

http://www.centannibroadcasting.com/id63.html

20/20 Vision

Such a pity
You were so pretty
I used to wear you like a crown
but now I just frown
at the twisted and ugly image before me
you used to bring clarity to my day
and protect me from the pain
without you I just may go insane
but alas you're not one in a million
yet a fluke of some lazy design
one may even say a joke
it sucks when your glasses broke

What doesn't kill you, gives you something to write about tomorrow

Shakespeare once said "Parting is such sweet sorrow", through the voice of Juliet. I believe writing is a more accurate device for sorrow. In as much as a month I haven't been moved to write in the least bit. On the contrary I could not stop myself from smiling and seeing beauty everywhere I looked. I wonder is sadness really the source of all writing? It is almost as if when there is plenty to dwell on and to affix myself to negativity writing is my only savior. It feels like with every word written a weight is being lifted off of my shoulders. And yet when the sun is shinning and laughter is my theme music, writing looks as if to bring me back into the shadows. Maybe this is why so many writers drink, and abuse drugs, they cannot find inspiration unless their lives are a mess and spinning out of control.
Even such jubilant writers such as David Sedaris has woven his funny tales from a tapestry of addiction, and fucked up life events. I wonder would he be a success if he didn't go through so much shit? If he never worked at Macy's that fateful Christmas season where would he be right now? I guess the real point is not whether or not so called "negative life experience" makes you a better writer or gives you material to use, but whether or not that experience is manufactured by your own means or part of your predetermined path. No matter what life will throw shit at you, and if it hasn't come yet, wait until May 21st. Regardless of how many times you smile or frown a day or how much money is in your bank account or if you even have one to begin with, it's all about what you do with those experiences.
Every day we have choices. Starting today I will write. I will write when I have tears streaming down my face that burn from sorrow, I will write when my sides hurt from laughing too hard, no matter what, I will write.

The Eye of the Storm

I have not written in my own voice here in a while. I just returned from a two-part vacation. The first was a short trip to Miami where oddly enough roaches were awaiting me and my travel buddies. Apparently my friend's mom rented out her condo to Oscar the Grouch. Let's just say I am thankful for the beaches, the weather and the brevity of the trip.
Judging by my Miami experience I was more than reluctant to revisit the Sunshine state. I wasn't really in the need of a vacation. I had already flown more this year than in the past two years combined, visiting my friend in Georgia earlier in February. Things were on the up and up, I was break dancing more, sticking to my open mic Thursdays, exercising, and generally enjoying life! Alas I decided to take in a new experience and enjoy some good weather in Orlando. Joe's Crab Shack, Aquattica, Universal's City Walk, and seeing my friend get shocked by a stun gun on a bet were the obvious highlights that come to mind, but I think I will remember the little things more. The peace of mind riding through stretches of highway with a view of endless horizon is something every New Yorker should have.
Running on three hours of sleep and flying into Newark to get back to Queens is weighing me down. I believe I will join my cat and take a nap in the sun. Yay, for karaoke, honesty, sincerity, new experiences, and dark chocolate bunnies...To be continued

Tetrahedron Folly

Stone weights affix to the core
symbolic of the sounds that escaped the playground
Dreary how the journey has unfolded
Scolded like a beggar unrealized
like fake gold
Take hold of the moment
that has shaped within
So heavily yet heavenly
A goal intoxicated with gin
The first steps to recovery are the
hardest to begin.

Sibling Rivalry

Blue lips in the rain create a
mysterious fog of hairspray
So relax
Bags clasped at the waist
face pulled down into a frown of sorts
Of different colored finger, nails
each represents another resentment
a failed conclusion based on
backwards enlightenment
Fly up above the stratospheres
of cumulonimbus fears
of rage, of hurt, of wait until
the right moment for just desserts; she says
as if behind a concrete veil, like swamp thing sails
into the wind, into the distance, into oneself
to emerge as one self
a cookie cutter reminder of how to lose oneself
in love, or what you thought it was
escape
whose grass roots words
were cut by the thesaurus
edited out by logic
yet emotions brought them back
from the dead

Relapse of the Heart

Tremors beneath the surface
reverberate the sounds of broken souls;
vagabond, mistress, scoundrel
soldier, lover, friend
I cannot hear you anymore
whispers are drowned out by
crashing waves
misguided prowess caress frostbitten lips
sudoku songs like battering rams through fortress walls
waterfall wisdom, overflowing with destructive
beauty

Moving forward

"Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result..."

March

March forward
March alone
March together
March inside your mind
March outside your comfort zone
March until your heels hurt
March until your voice gives out and the shouts convene inside your dreams and grow into ideas that manifest back into words and reach the children behind barbed wire fences.
Fences made of hunger, hunger for the balance of dilapidated classrooms built on untrustworthy textbooks. Fences which burn at the touch because touch was taken from the curriculum and our homes twenty years ago. As did grammar, as did manners, as did respect for your elders, and yourself.
March until your heels hurt
March outside your comfort zone
March inside your mind
March together
March alone
March forward

Georgia

The air is sweet and fragrant
a constant sense of passing rainfall.
Lose yourself in the Southern drawl
molasses life;
calm yet ever-present in its
deliberateness.

Dreaming of Brooklyn

Hidden pleasures in a pillows silhouette
Soft blades of light warm the small of your back
Recoil in the blanketed playground of my arms
As tufts of memories illuminate my senses

Door

Staring at the door
Who is staring back at me?

The eyes have deceived me again
Turning back and forth

Ring the bell
Silence the walls

Meditate through the hallway
Wipe the sweat from my palms

All I ever seem to do is stare
Why can’t I just

Knock

I thought I said what?

Funny how a thought can be a mountain
Sliding aimlessly idly by
Funny how an argument can mean so much
Yet based off silly ideals and thoughts
A misunderstanding a misinterpretation
Can cut you like a dagger or give a stabbing sensation
Its hardly clear what can be seen when one is focused on the in-between
What can’t be seen those vibrating strings which hold us all together
That turns our hearts into a flutter
Flush our faces with an utterance a disturbance in the force?
Just say what you mean and mean what you say
I’m tired of being a mind reader today.

Love after Love by Derek Walcott

Love after Love by Derek Walcott

The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
This poem speaks volumes to me and I know so many other people out there. "Give back your heart to itself, the stranger who has loved you all your life, whom you ignored for another, who knows you by heart."
The notion of always being there for yourself, to smile back at yourself in the mirror, not as a stranger whom you have not seen or acknowledged in a while but a familiar face that you recognize as your own. Just thinking about what that truly means is a question I have been tackling my entire life. To accept my flaws and to praise my talents, and to acknowledge them and feed them.
This also links to a site a friend of mine just brought to my attention: www.soulpancake.com
A place where people ponder and share their thoughts on life's questions. I came across one interesting question of "How do you seize the day?" and It got me thinking about the patterns we lock ourselves into and how to break away from those patterns. Looking back in my life, the most joyous times are when I was venturing into uncharted territory and pushing myself to strive for something new and challenging. Years ago when I entered undergrad it was terrifying and blissful, yet now the prospect of that whole process is somewhat paralyzing. Change is terrifying but remembering Derek Walcott's poem if I greet myself to a feast of my life, it won't be so challenging a task.

Desert

My love is a desert.
My heart a cactus.
Some, like a rose wilt without
constant nourishment.
Does that make mine stronger?
Or just dried out from neglect.
I choose the former,
because in fact a cactus does eventually
Bloom.

Poshlust

Jumping through iron-clad ceiling
striving to be king of the jungle
roaring at the top of your lungs
echoes to a red misty river
clutch those ashen elbows to prepare for the imminent fall
from grace
stones afoot on long shadowless banks
give thanks
for the wind for it carries away the stench of thieves
and crooks and the decay
of morality in our day.
Since the end of tomorrow may come today
get down on all fours
and pray
for the beginning to resend anew
refresh the page and restart the stew
mix new ingredients in the primordial soup
and see what brew will come through.
A windowless pain to
shine through the pane of failed
adventures
you, sought to end the
shame that never even came but
was thought up by, you.
Stir up the brain mix the sugar
and the cane but leave out the
chains of the plantation-nation
reborn on the buffaloes horn the
red and violent view, the re-twisted braids
the natives got to stay and you
begin to see a new day
when ships that sailed
sent back to the crew
for Revolutions whose plague
was far too vague to even
make it to the stage
not even Caliban can make due.
In the sky in your eyes
there's more interesting colors than blue
like molten reds from the tears
that are shed like the snakes
who takes and then waits
until all that left if old skin.
Now where do we begin?

Happy 2011

Once again it has been a while since my last post.Okay I promise to get better at that. With all of this cold, I cannot wait for warmer weather. I can definitely see myself living in a place with mild to no winter. I would at least give it a try.

Location: Pret in Union Square, NY
Time: 6:26pm
Mood: ( insert here )

As the title suggest this is my welcome to the New Year post. Hurray, is it over yet? Hasn't been a month yet and so far 2010 is winning. My new job is avoiding me, my old job didn't pay enough but was morally rewarding, (helping children learn to read and do math is a different kind of payment). If only I could pay my bills in smiles and laughter I would be a millionaire. But I must stay positive, change is among us! Baby boomers are supposed to start retiring this year(finally!)so all of us twenty-somewhat year olds looking for some scratch, there should be openings available soon.

This years focus: money and soul and dancing and laughter i.e. progress

Even though things haven't been working out the way I would want I am still and always grateful for the love I have in my life and the fact that I still have working arms to hug them with.