tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40277679184114499782011-02-06T01:00:28.444-05:00In Another Time and Place"There is no life I know to compare with pure imagination. Living there you'll be free if you truly wish to be."
- Welcome, To my thoughts, imagination, and life :)Annie Rosiernoreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4027767918411449978.post-12351401108141414452011-02-05T20:58:00.003-05:002011-02-06T01:00:28.458-05:002011-02-06T01:00:28.458-05:00Sleeping with The Enemy: Living with Systemic Lupus ErythematosusI have lupus. It is not something I think about often. Truth is, it is something I actively work on not thinking about, with the idea being that if I ignore it, it'll go away. To be honest, I realize that I'm really fooling myself. You can't actually fool lupus into thinking it is not there. There is no magic formula to make it disappear. No cure, no hope, just pain. Like it or not, the stiffness, depression, rashes, lack of energy, brain fog, sensitivity to sunlight, etc. will always be there to remind you that you are not like everyone else. But not thinking about lupus, not letting it rule the way I live also helps me fool other people into treating me like I'm a normal, healthy person and not that girl-with-the-weird-illness-that's-not-really-cancer-and-is-probably-just-really-lazy.<br />
<br />
I have lupus. It is not something I can forget; not something I can realistically ignore. I can try not to think about it, but it's there. It's there now and it will always be. I can treat the symptoms, pump my body full of odd chemicals, avoid sick people or people who look like they might be sick, avoid stress, exercise when I can, eat healthy, wear sunscreen, and avoid heels, and hope my friends understand when I lack the energy to even get out of bed, but fact is, I will always have lupus. So I find that it's better to not think about it. To get out of bed when I can and stay in when I can't. To enjoy the very few moments when I am not in pain and to simply ignore the people who try minimize my illness.<br />
<br />
"But you don't look sick." --- Well you don't look like a jerk but that doesn't keep you from being one now, does it?<br />
<br />
"Oh so what's lupus is it like cancer or something?"<br />
"No, not at all."<br />
[Dismissively] "Oh"<br />
<br />
"Dang girl, you are always sick/tired." --- Well it's not like my immune system is attacking itself or nothing.<br />
<br />
I have lupus. I don't like it but I must live with it. So try not to judge when my hair isn't done or I'm wearing flats when everyone else has heels because most days, I'm just grateful I was able to get out of bed.<br />
<br />
For more information about Lupus:<br />
<a href="http://cure4lupus.org/">Cure4Lupus</a><br />
<a href="http://www.lupus.org/newsite/index.html">The LUPUS Foundation of America</a><br />
<a href="http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0001471">U.S. National Library of Medicine</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4027767918411449978-1235140110814141445?l=thiscantbepc.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Annie Rosiernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4027767918411449978.post-54735190160612338882011-02-02T22:13:00.001-05:002011-02-02T22:30:41.298-05:002011-02-02T22:30:41.298-05:00A Threat to JusticeI am not sure why the strong insist on oppressing the weak. Tale as old as time. Whether it's in politics, business, religiously motivated, or militarily. Whether it's whites vs. blacks, men vs. women, adults vs. children, hetero vs. LGBTQ, liberals vs. conservatives, etc. The will of one or a few to acquire power always ends up tromping the rights and livelihood of the majority. And the world oftentimes sits back and pretends it is not happening, until it's too late. Maybe it's Darwinism - survival of the fittest - or maybe it's human nature. Either way, I do not know of any case when oppression has ever ended well for anyone. Dictators fall. Revolutions rise. Blood is shed. Lives are lost. No one wins. If only human beings would stop and open a history textbook; if only they would listen to their elders and learn about their history, world history, human history, maybe they would learn a thing or two about oppression, injustice, and hate. Maybe they would realize that there really is nothing to gain from it.<br />
<br />
So tonight, heart goes out to the men and women around the world suffering from political and social oppression and fighting for their rights to be in: Egypt, Haiti, Tunisia, Israel/Palestine, Algeria, Yemen, Turkey, right here in the USA and elsewhere around the world. And to those of you reading this, remember, as Martin Luther King once said: "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere."<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4027767918411449978-5473519016061233888?l=thiscantbepc.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Annie Rosiernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4027767918411449978.post-20410994343257098882011-01-15T04:09:00.001-05:002011-01-15T04:15:48.205-05:002011-01-15T04:15:48.205-05:00AngerAnger is scary. It's like a deadly disease in remission. You are aware of its presence initially, but then it lies dormant. Deep within your body, beneath your soul. Hidden. Fooling you into thinking all is right. And just when you have completely forgotten about this chapter of your life, let down your guards, and put up your feet, it sneaks up on you. BIG, BAD, BOLD.<br />
<div><br />
Anger is scary, but mostly to the person within whom it calls home. Nobody wants to be angry but sometimes it is all one has. I'd rather be sad then angry, but I am too angry to be sad. I'd rather forget about it and I'm pretty sure I will until one day it sneaks up on me again. Whoever said time healed everything was a damn liar. Because anger doesn't go away. It lolls. Sure, I'd be nice to hear a sincere apology. Would make the whole forgiveness thing a lot easier. But since when do ever get what we want?<br />
<br />
</div><div>Anger is scary, but as for right now it is all I have and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pojL_35QlSI&ob=av3nm">"I am mad as hell"</a>. </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4027767918411449978-2041099434325709888?l=thiscantbepc.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Annie Rosiernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4027767918411449978.post-47299544984385784762010-12-08T14:44:00.002-05:002010-12-08T19:04:23.313-05:002010-12-08T19:04:23.313-05:00The End of an Era: Farewell Urban Meyer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KFwf9y7YUgQ/TQAA4Bvd3II/AAAAAAAAACI/hVu3nJ50JU8/s1600/deuces-urban.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KFwf9y7YUgQ/TQAA4Bvd3II/AAAAAAAAACI/hVu3nJ50JU8/s1600/deuces-urban.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Florida Gators football Head Coach Urban Meyer announced his retirement from college football today. I actually think he should have left last year. I know many Gators are pissed at him but seriously, who did not see that one coming? Personally, I thank the guy for the championships, the memories, and the bragging rights we had for quite some time. He made my undergrad years that much better. So, as all good things eventually come to an end, the only thing I ask Urban is that you take Steve Addazio with you.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4027767918411449978-4729954498438578476?l=thiscantbepc.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Annie Rosiernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4027767918411449978.post-79343767474975800742010-11-17T00:16:00.005-05:002010-11-17T00:51:27.080-05:002010-11-17T00:51:27.080-05:00Putain de Temps (Time's a #!@%&)<object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/QSTTnEyPy1E?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/QSTTnEyPy1E?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br />
<br />
I miss.<br />
<br />
I miss childhood. I miss my imagination. The worlds I created with well... I don't quite remember and that's what is so damn heartbreaking. I miss my imaginary friend, Jelhane, whom I don't remember either but my mom was so fond of. I miss the hot Caribbean sun. The hustle and bustle of downtown Port-au-Prince, its saleswomen and dirty, half-naked boys selling everything under the sun. I miss waiting for a ride to school every morning. The conversations I had with the saleswomen. The smell of coffee in the morning, the men who bought the coffee but always dropped three drops for the departed. The saleswomen selling bananas, hard-boiled eggs, with pikliz. I miss "pate ze" with hot dogs and pikliz or "pate aranso." I miss Christmastime. Running around in the dark with firecrackers. Wishing random strangers "jwaye nwel e bon ane". I miss childhood.<br />
<br />
I miss the hot summer days spent at the spring. Eating mangoes and tamarind til tummies hurt. I miss climbing trees, running, falling. I miss dominoes and cards. Skipping ropes and dolls. Fritay and dancing. Oh how I miss dancing. I used to dance. All the time, I used to dance. I miss dancing. I don't dance anymore. I miss hot afternoon suns, singing in the back of a pick-up truck, tennis lessons after school. Art classes and piano lessons. Saturdays of leisure, Sunday morning masses and afternoons with Grand'Nana. I miss my great grandmother and her loving smile. Her coffee and the many ways she spoiled me. I miss the way her yellow skin wrinkled, her long and beautiful black hair, which she always insisted on dyeing, and the many people she fed. I miss her comforting presence, the way her eyes lit up when she saw me. I miss her love. Her unconditional love. I miss my Grand'Nana.<br />
<br />
I childhood innocence. Without a care in the world. The many friends I played with. The boy who declared himself my boyfriend, followed me around like a lost puppy and gave me my first kiss. How beautiful he was. God I hope he is still alive. I miss dark starry nights. Moonlight stories and my mom yelling at me to come home. I miss the potential everyone saw in me. The pride they took in me. The many people who always wanted to please me. I miss la Riviere de l'Estere and Fete St Jerome in late Septembers. Mardi Gras and three days of Carnaval. I miss being on stage, being one of the smartest students in my classes. And living in the moment, never really caring if there was a tomorrow. I miss coloring and painting, writing songs, and making up dances. I miss Steve and the many fights we fought. I miss Nadege and how she loved me. How patient she was with me. I miss Chachou. My Oncle Ilitch and his paintings. I miss never really fitting in. Oncle Yves and his stories. Oncle Jean and his books. Tante Tete and her secrets. Visiting my grandfather and the many books he gave me.<br />
<br />
I miss my childhood. I miss my home. I miss Haiti. Mwen Sonje Lakay.<br />
<br />
I miss the part of me that will never again be. I miss not knowing better. Putain the temps. I miss me.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KFwf9y7YUgQ/TONmBoSaEHI/AAAAAAAAAB8/2z5l5SH0Apc/s1600/47.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KFwf9y7YUgQ/TONmBoSaEHI/AAAAAAAAAB8/2z5l5SH0Apc/s400/47.jpg" width="271" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4027767918411449978-7934376747497580074?l=thiscantbepc.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Annie Rosiernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4027767918411449978.post-24183444352013651522010-11-06T21:10:00.002-04:002010-11-17T00:26:58.089-05:002010-11-17T00:26:58.089-05:00Strange Sex Laws Around the US. Enjoy! (Or Not lol) - Cont'd<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px;"></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">- In Romboch, Virginia, it is illegal to engage in sexual activity with the lights on.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">-- In Merryville, Missouri, women are prohibited from wearing corsets because "the privilege of admiring the curvaceous, unencumbered body of a young woman should not be denied to the normal, red-blooded American male."</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">-- It's safe to make love while parked in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho. Police officers aren't allowed to walk up and knock on the window. Any suspicious officer who thinks that sex is taking place must drive up from behind, honk his horn three times and wait approximately two minutes before getting out of his car to investigate.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">-- A law in Helena, Montana, mandates that a woman can't dance on a table in a saloon or bar unless she has on at least three pounds, two ounces of clothing. (Ouch! These pasties hurt!)</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">-- Anywhere in the U.S., it's illegal to use any live endangered species, excepting insects, in public or private sexual displays, shows or exhibits depicting cross-species sex. (Insectophiles apparently were successful in their lobbying efforts.)</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">-- Lovers in Liberty Corner, New Jersey, should avoid satisfying their lustful urges in a parked car. If the horn accidentally sounds while they are frolicking behind the wheel, the couple can face a jail term.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">-- In Carlsbad, New Mexico, it's legal for couples to have sex in a parked vehicle during their lunch break from work, as long as the car or van has drawn curtains to stop strangers from peeking in.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">-- Women aren't allowed to wear patent-leather shoes in Cleveland, Ohio - a man might see the reflection of something "he oughtn't!"</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">-- No woman may have sex with a man while riding in an ambulance within the boundaries of Tremonton, Utah. If caught, the woman can be charged with a sexual misdemeanor and "her name is to be published in the local newspaper." The man isn't charged nor is his name revealed.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">-- It is illegal for any member of the Nevada Legislature to conduct official business wearing a penis costume while the legislature is in session.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4027767918411449978-2418344435201365152?l=thiscantbepc.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Annie Rosiernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4027767918411449978.post-55601934615545808102010-11-06T21:09:00.004-04:002011-01-15T04:26:51.522-05:002011-01-15T04:26:51.522-05:00Strange Sex Laws Around the US. Enjoy! (Or Not lol)<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 16px;"></span><br />
-- In Bakersfield, California, anyone having intercourse with Satan must use a condom. (An asbestos one we presume.)<br />
-- In Oblong, Illinois, it's punishable by law to make love while hunting or fishing on your wedding day.<br />
-- In Minnesota, it is illegal for any man to have sexual intercourse with a live fish. (Apparently it's OK for woman.)<br />
-- No man is allowed to make love to his wife with the smell of garlic, onions, or sardines on his breath in Alexandria, Minnesota. If his wife so requests, law mandates that he must brush his teeth.<br />
-- Warn your hubby that after lovemaking in Ames, Iowa, he isn't allowed to take more than three gulps of beer while lying in bed with you -- or holding you in his arms.<br />
-- Bozeman, Montana, has a law that bans all sexual activity between members of the opposite sex in the front yard of a home after sundown -- if they're nude.<br />
-- In hotels in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, every room is required to have twin beds. And the beds must always be a minimum of two feet apart when a couple rents a room for only one night. And it's illegal to make love on the floor between the beds!<br />
-- The owner of every hotel in Hastings, Nebraska, is required to provide each guest with a clean and pressed nightshirt. No couple, even if they are married, may sleep together in the nude. Nor may they have sex unless they are wearing one of these clean, white cotton nightshirts.<br />
-- An ordinance in Newcastle, Wyoming, specifically bans couples from having sex while standing inside a store's walk-in meat freezer!<br />
-- A state law in Illinois mandates that all bachelors should be called master, not mister, when addressed by their female counterparts.<br />
-----<br />
From: The 'Lectric Law Library<br />
The Net's Finest Legal Resource For Legal Pros & Laypeople Alike.<br />
http://www.lectlaw.com<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4027767918411449978-5560193461554580810?l=thiscantbepc.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Annie Rosiernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4027767918411449978.post-22756274342859766932010-10-18T01:36:00.001-04:002010-10-18T01:36:54.806-04:002010-10-18T01:36:54.806-04:00Shihan- "This Type Love"<div>One of my faves:</div><div><br /></div><object style="background-image:url(http://i1.ytimg.com/vi/h8a7kSInX2I/hqdefault.jpg)" width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/h8a7kSInX2I?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/h8a7kSInX2I?fs=1&hl=en_US" width="425" height="344" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4027767918411449978-2275627434285976693?l=thiscantbepc.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Annie Rosiernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4027767918411449978.post-80850324722424909412010-10-18T01:36:00.000-04:002010-10-18T01:36:07.346-04:002010-10-18T01:36:07.346-04:00Rafael Casal - Barbie & Ken 101<object style="background-image:url(http://i2.ytimg.com/vi/e8MVhIiy8UQ/hqdefault.jpg)" width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/e8MVhIiy8UQ?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/e8MVhIiy8UQ?fs=1&hl=en_US" width="425" height="344" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4027767918411449978-8085032472242490941?l=thiscantbepc.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Annie Rosiernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4027767918411449978.post-79273200007330086372010-10-18T01:34:00.000-04:002010-10-18T01:34:58.514-04:002010-10-18T01:34:58.514-04:00Bassey Ikpi - I Want to Kiss You<div>Because we've all been there:</div><div><br /></div><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-vV8X4MZ7jM?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-vV8X4MZ7jM?fs=1&hl=en_US" width="425" height="344" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4027767918411449978-7927320000733008637?l=thiscantbepc.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Annie Rosiernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4027767918411449978.post-23064319448337557712010-10-18T01:27:00.000-04:002010-10-18T01:27:28.739-04:002010-10-18T01:27:28.739-04:00Life Truths from SNOTM<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VGsreexPmwc/THFwhhFAScI/AAAAAAAABMU/6rslwzYp31I/s400/41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VGsreexPmwc/THFwhhFAScI/AAAAAAAABMU/6rslwzYp31I/s320/41.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VGsreexPmwc/TGJyxNjlKMI/AAAAAAAABH8/dllbQqKUYKk/s400/38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VGsreexPmwc/TGJyxNjlKMI/AAAAAAAABH8/dllbQqKUYKk/s320/38.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VGsreexPmwc/TDUXdSpUBLI/AAAAAAAABDw/0TEjTVUYfqo/s400/32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VGsreexPmwc/TDUXdSpUBLI/AAAAAAAABDw/0TEjTVUYfqo/s320/32.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>All images are the property of <a href="http://stuffnoonetoldme.blogspot.com/">Alex Noriega</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4027767918411449978-2306431944833755771?l=thiscantbepc.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Annie Rosiernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4027767918411449978.post-7234089957725402892010-10-17T17:46:00.000-04:002010-10-17T17:46:47.088-04:002010-10-17T17:46:47.088-04:00Words That Don't Exist in the English LanguageEver felt like you knew exactly how you were feeling but couldn't put it into words? Maybe this will help.<br />
<br />
Taken from <a href="http://edmaximus.tumblr.com/">Ed Maximus's tumbler page</a>.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_la3aheaVdF1qaew9xo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_la3aheaVdF1qaew9xo1_500.jpg" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4027767918411449978-723408995772540289?l=thiscantbepc.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Annie Rosiernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4027767918411449978.post-34371645068086764262010-10-16T23:44:00.001-04:002010-10-17T00:17:30.893-04:002010-10-17T00:17:30.893-04:00Gators Disappoint Again in The Swamp<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://bloximages.chicago2.vip.townnews.com/alligator.org/content/tncms/assets/editorial/b/11/6c4/b116c496-e21a-11de-a421-001cc4c002e0.image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://bloximages.chicago2.vip.townnews.com/alligator.org/content/tncms/assets/editorial/b/11/6c4/b116c496-e21a-11de-a421-001cc4c002e0.image.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="249" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">"We're not good right now," said Coach Urban Meyer. Well, talk about the understatement of the year. At least he's not delusional.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">When we lost today against Mississippi State, it became the first time we've lost 3 consecutive games since 1988 and the first time we've lost consecutive home games since 2003. Yep, 7 years ago, during Steve Spurrier's era. Even Ron Zook never did that. It was also the first time Mississippi State won in The Swamp since 1965. What an embarrassment! Alabama was #1 when they beat us. LSU was undefeated. But Mississippi State? To make it worse, one of the few shining stars, Andre Debose left the field on crutches.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The only good thing that could possibly come out of this: <a href="http://www.firesteveaddazio.com/">Steve Addazio's firing</a>. After all, it was the loss against Mississipi State that led to Ron Zook's firing in 2004. Let's keep our fingers crossed. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Parting thought: Despite the tough loss, it all, it's still great to be a Florida Gator and always will be because "In all kinds of weather we all stick together for F-L-O-R-I-D-A!"</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4027767918411449978-3437164506808676426?l=thiscantbepc.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Annie Rosiernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4027767918411449978.post-84074931097549479762010-10-16T15:28:00.000-04:002010-10-16T15:28:57.382-04:002010-10-16T15:28:57.382-04:00Sesame Street:Song: I Love My Hair<div><br /></div><object style="background-image:url(http://i2.ytimg.com/vi/enpFde5rgmw/hqdefault.jpg)" width="480" height="295"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/enpFde5rgmw?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/enpFde5rgmw?fs=1&hl=en_US" width="480" height="295" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span><input class="blogger-ie-hack" style="position: absolute; left: -9999px; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; "><input class="blogger-ie-hack" style="position: absolute; left: -9999px; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; "><input class="blogger-ie-hack" style="position: absolute; left: -9999px; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; "><input class="blogger-ie-hack" style="position: absolute; left: -9999px; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; "><input class="blogger-ie-hack" style="position: absolute; left: -9999px; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; "><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; ">It's nice that Sesame Street is helping improve the self-esteem of little black girls. Good job!</p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4027767918411449978-8407493109754947976?l=thiscantbepc.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Annie Rosiernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4027767918411449978.post-10475047447791774552010-10-16T15:27:00.000-04:002010-10-16T15:27:44.357-04:002010-10-16T15:27:44.357-04:00Sesame Street: Smell Like A Monster<div>Everyone knows how obsessed I am with Old Spice's Smell Like a Man campaign. Well, look what I found!!!</div><div><br /></div><object style="background-image:url(http://i3.ytimg.com/vi/zkd5dJIVjgM/hqdefault.jpg)" width="480" height="295"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/zkd5dJIVjgM?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/zkd5dJIVjgM?fs=1&hl=en_US" width="480" height="295" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4027767918411449978-1047504744779177455?l=thiscantbepc.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Annie Rosiernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4027767918411449978.post-15884135528827655352010-10-10T01:51:00.002-04:002010-10-10T02:10:53.801-04:002010-10-10T02:10:53.801-04:00Gators Disappoint in Hideous Orange Jerseys<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www2.tbo.com/exposure/ar/659/372/2010/10/10/72379_lsu_florida_football_1725374.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://www2.tbo.com/exposure/ar/659/372/2010/10/10/72379_lsu_florida_football_1725374.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I knew it from the start; those hideous orange jerseys combined with the fact that I saw a couple of the starters [whom shall not be named] out and drinking last night, could only mean one thing: tonight was NOT going to be a good night in The Swamp. Steve Addazio called bad plays after bad plays. Everyone in orange decided not to block. Emmanuel Moody fumbled, AGAIN, and went from "MOOOOODY" to "BOOOOOOTY". Gator fans hoped Tim Tebow and Percy Harvin would skype the young'ins during halftime and inspire them to do better, while swiftly alternating between boos and cheers, blaming Addazio and blaming the referees, screaming for Addazio's head and praying for Demps to show up, bad ankle and all. Alas, prayers weren't answered in The Swamp tonight. Nope, not for us anyway. And it's all because of those damn orange jerseys. Well at least that's what I tell myself to alleviate the pain. <br />
<br />
I suppose there are many things, all true, we could say to explain tonight's loss: all good things come to an end, the quarterback played hurt (ribs), our fastest if not best player Demps was out (ankle) and LSU's defense was spectacular. But the truth is much simpler: we are a young team. We need experience, we need time to grow. Every program goes through this. After a few spectacular years and sending a great number of players to the NFL, you eventually have to rebuild. It stinks while you're at it, but in a few years, we'll be back. We'll be Percy Harvin's, Brandon Spikes' and Tim Tebow's Gators. Until then, I suppose Gator fans must simply be patient and keep cheering. Though it wouldn't hurt the team a bit to simply trash those grotesque orange jerseys. <br />
<br />
Only bright spot (because we're optimists): Andre Debose. Google him if you please. <br />
<br />
By the way, if someone, anyone, could please tell John Brantley that we don't really need him to be Tim Tebow, we just want him to be a decent quarterback, that would be awesome!<br />
<br />
And yes, it's still pretty great to be a Florida Gator! [yup, dreadful orange jerseys and all!]<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4027767918411449978-1588413552882765535?l=thiscantbepc.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Annie Rosiernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4027767918411449978.post-28429581232719034242010-10-08T11:15:00.000-04:002010-10-08T11:15:22.164-04:002010-10-08T11:15:22.164-04:001 Ohio school, 4 bullied teensI came across this story in the news today and it's almost too sad for words: <a href="http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/us_bullying_one_town">1 Ohio school, 4 bullied teens dead at own hands</a>. How bullies managed to cause 4 teenagers to commit suicide over the course of two years is inconceivable to me. I wonder how the parents of these sociopaths feel. Seriously, have we really failed that much as a society? Where, in the midst of video games, MTV, and social networking sites did we go wrong? I am not naive, I know there's evil in the world. We simply have got to do better. Comments?<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4027767918411449978-2842958123271903424?l=thiscantbepc.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Annie Rosiernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4027767918411449978.post-82422340092819411132010-10-08T01:14:00.002-04:002010-10-08T01:14:33.462-04:002010-10-08T01:14:33.462-04:00Volunteering Blues<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt;">Last month, I started volunteering in a town nearby, tutoring elementary and middle school students. The kids are from very low income families. A lot of them aren't living with their birth parents, but rather are in foster care or living with a relative. They are mostly black and male. There are some girls and a few white kids as well. I really enjoy it, don't get me wrong, but every time I go there, I leave feeling hopeless, like nothing I do can make a difference for them. After a very emotional tutoring session with a very cute 10 year-old last week, I just felt like I had to write my thoughts and feelings down in order to feel better. So, I came up with this poem.<br />
<br />
After All, This Was America<br />
<br />
He sat across from me,</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br />
Mindlessly doing his math homework.<br />
Never once using the scratch paper.<br />
He was good at math, I thought.<br />
And I wanted him to be an engineer,<br />
A doctor, someone respectable.</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br />
I sat across from him,</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br />
Wondering if my son will look like him,</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br />
Excel in math and be just as polite.<br />
He was ten years old.<br />
He had good grades and loved to read.</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br />
And I was hopeful;<br />
After all, this was America.<br />
<br />
But hopeful, he was not.</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br />
He had looked within the lives around him.<br />
There was no more fighting, no resisting,<br />
Just dashed hopes and resignation.</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br />
His generation had given up.<br />
Hopeless at ten,</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br />
Broken at twelve,</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br />
Incarcerated at fifteen<br />
And dead by eighteen.</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br />
This was his life and he’d accepted it.<br />
“I ain’t got no dreams,” he said,</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br />
“No sense.”<br />
And his words broke my heart.<br />
<br />
This wasn’t right.<br />
Ten year old boys shouldn’t be broken.<br />
They should be hopeful and full of joy,<br />
Oblivious to life’s bitter truths.<br />
But this was America,<br />
And this, his American nightmare:<br />
Born in the wrong skin,</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br />
To the wrong people,</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br />
On the wrong side.</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br />
And he knew it.</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br />
He knew too well what happened to dreams deferred.<br />
<br />
I wanted to take him into my arms<br />
Whisper hope back into his life,<br />
Comfort him and make his pain go away.<br />
But deep down I knew he was right.<br />
He was only ten years old.</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt;"><br />
But he knew enough.<br />
This was his reality, his America, his plight.<br />
And it broke my heart.<o:p></o:p></span></div><!--EndFragment--><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4027767918411449978-8242234009281941113?l=thiscantbepc.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jonoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4027767918411449978.post-57928213706613934422010-10-08T01:13:00.000-04:002010-10-08T01:13:02.315-04:002010-10-08T01:13:02.315-04:00Bye, bye facebook. Hellooooo Blogspot!<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; mso-outline-level: 3;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 17px;">I am rather excited to be blogging again! I recently (well, about 5 days ago), bid farewell to facebook. Closed my account and walked away. I thought I'd miss it, yearn for it, and finally run back to it with my tail between my legs, but quite the contrary has occurred. Turns out, as more and more days pass, my desire to log on has steadily decreased. Well, truth be told, I probably would have gone back, but I had my roommate change my password right before I deactivate my account, just to be sure. On the flip side, now that I am no longer writing facebook statuses, I've been feeling the need to blog more and more. And so dear friends, it is with pleasure that I introduce the new and improved version of this blog: In Another Time and Place. It still has no particular focus, just a way for me to express my ideas and share my views with the world. So yea, thanks for reading!</span></div><!--EndFragment--><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4027767918411449978-5792821370661393442?l=thiscantbepc.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jonoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4027767918411449978.post-15633638366305075742010-02-01T15:36:00.005-05:002010-11-17T01:16:01.524-05:002010-11-17T01:16:01.524-05:00The most important sex organ is the brain<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.johnehrenfeld.com/radioactive-happiness-face.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://www.johnehrenfeld.com/radioactive-happiness-face.gif" width="400" /></span></a></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So I was going through my facebook notes, while trying really hard to ignore my statistics class and look what I found: </span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Written By Regina Brett, 90 years old, of "The Plain Dealer", Cleveland, Ohio<br />
<br />
"To celebrate growing older, I once wrote the 45 lessons life taught me. It is the most-requested column I've ever written. My odometer rolled over to 90 in August, so here is the column once more:"<br />
<br />
1. Life isn't fair, but it's still good.<br />
2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.<br />
3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.<br />
4. Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends and parents will. Stay in touch.<br />
5. Pay off your credit cards every month.<br />
6. You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.<br />
7. Cry with someone. It's more healing than crying alone.<br />
8. It's OK to get angry with God. He can take it.<br />
9. Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.<br />
11. Make peace with your past so it won't screw up the present.<br />
12. It's OK to let your children see you cry.<br />
13. Don't compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is all about.<br />
14. If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn't be in it.<br />
15. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But don't worry; God never blinks.<br />
16. Take a deep breath. It calms the mind.<br />
17. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful.<br />
18. Whatever doesn't kill you really does make you stronger.<br />
19. It's never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to you and no one else.<br />
20. When it comes to going after what you love in life, don't take no for an answer.<br />
21. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don't save it for a special occasion. Today is special.<br />
22. Over prepare, then go with t he flow.<br />
23. Be eccentric now. Don't wait for old age to wear purple.<br />
24. The most important sex organ is the brain.<br />
25. No one is in charge of your happiness but you.<br />
26. Frame every so-called disaster with these words 'In five years, will this matter?'<br />
27. Always choose life.<br />
28. Forgive everyone everything.<br />
29. What other people think of you is none of your business.<br />
30. Ti me heals almost everything. Give time time.<br />
31. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.<br />
32. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.<br />
33. Believe in miracles.<br />
34. God loves you because of who God is, not because of anything you did or didn't do.<br />
35. Don't audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.<br />
36. Growing old beats the alternative -- dying young.<br />
37. Your children get only one childhood.<br />
38. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.<br />
39. Get outside every day.. Miracles are waiting everywhere.<br />
40. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's, we'd grab ours back.<br />
41. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.<br />
42. The best is yet to come, no matter where you are in life<br />
43. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.<br />
44. Yield, don't stop<br />
45. Life isn't tied with a bow, but it's still a gift.<br />
</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> <br />
P.C.!</span></span> </span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4027767918411449978-1563363836630507574?l=thiscantbepc.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jonoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4027767918411449978.post-22002588167320813592009-12-05T06:08:00.002-05:002009-12-05T15:07:19.385-05:002009-12-05T15:07:19.385-05:00Boldly Taking Sexy BackSo I've been doing a bit of "research" -and by that I mean google searches nothing fancy- for the final project in my hip-hop class and I must say, I'm disappointed by what I have been finding. Originally, I wanted to focus on the effect of hip-hop culture on the body image of young black girls, including myself. I was simply planning on emphasizing the whole "apple bottom" craze, but then through my search of mostly video vixens, I decided to go in deeper and discuss the phenomenon of the Long Hair Thick Red Bone. I knew of the whole fad, how lighter and thicker was better, but it wasn't until this search, that I found out how deeply it really runs. And yes, I had previously read Willie Lynch's <a href="http://www.itsabouttimebpp.com/BPP_Books/pdf/The_Willie_Lynch_Letter_The_Making_Of_A_Slave%21.pdf">"The Making of a Slave"</a> speech but I suppose I had convinced myself the people of my generation were much too smart to <i>still</i> fall for that. Going forward, I have absolutely nothing against light-skinned girls, interracial dating or the likes and while I respect anyone's decision to date or sleep with whomever he pleases, it truly saddens me that all these hip-hop artists -and conversely the black and Latino men I come in contact with- find it appropriate the put down dark-skinned black women in favor of the light-skinned ones, Latina, Caucasians and other women of "exotic" origins.<br />
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Those who know me, know that I have always been on the thin side. My friends and family often joke that I am a waste of food, since they never see where it all goes. I am fine with it now, but that hasn't always been the case. In high school, I used to always be made fun of because of my weight: calling me "broomstick", offering to take me to their home and feed me, joking that they should stay away from me for fear of breaking me in half, warning me to stay near heavy objects on windy days so I wouldn't get blown away, etc. I went out with a guy, whom, along with his friends, referred to me as "pancake" because of my "flat" butt. It wasn't until our relationship ended that I started accepting myself for who I am: skinny and all. For the first time, what I always knew deep down inside, finally clicked: I am a whole lot smarter than most of these people making fun of me, I have ambition and drive, I am compassionate, and most of all, I am BEAUTIFUL.<br />
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When I came to college, I expected people to be more open-minded and accepting of others due to the whole higher-level education thing, but boy was I wrong! It's actually even worse at UF. The whole LHTRB issue which I had never encountered is such a big deal here. [See: <a href="http://allaboutthefishman.blogspot.com/2009/05/titletown-queens.html#comments">Titletown Quens </a> a blog post by a UF student and comments made mostly by black male UF students]. I mean don't get me wrong, I didn't come to college looking for anyone's approval, an MRS degree or even a boo for that matter. But I also did not come in expecting people of my own race -or even the Latinos- to treat me like I didn't matter, just because of the amount of melanin in my skin or the lack of "junk in my trunk". This is truly tragic you know, especially with all the little girls growing up and realizing they'll never look like Beyonce. But I didn't even have to go that far back in age, just take a look at the recent craze of buttocks implants going on worldwide, the billion-dollar weave industry, people having black market surgery to alter their eye color, or dark-skinned women using all types of lightening creams to lighten their skin color. <br />
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I realize, even if I were to stop supporting and listening to hip-hop artists who promote "colorism" such as Yung Berg (proclaimed he didn't do "black butts" in reference to dark-skinned girls) or Lil Wayne (who sings about his preference for Long Hair Thick Red Bones) or Gorilla Zoe (who raps about wanting a "thick bitch, long hair, yellow, white, red, brown") and so on, it would not make the slightest bit of difference. You will still see girls both dark and light-skinned, listening/singing/dancing to these songs. Black guys will still overtly prefer thick redbones aka "bad" girls, to the dark skinned ones, and thus continuing the trend white slave owner Willie Lynch so famously started nearly 300 years ago. It is up to us to educate ourselves about the truth behind this trend and accept all people for the person within, and not the size of their jeans or the shade of face makeup they wear. With that said, not to be a pessimist, but believe me, I will not be holding my breath til then. Final words: You may like a long hair thick redbone, but I LOVE a sun-kissed, air-dried, extra lotion needing, comb-breaking, size zero-wearing, black BEAUTY and would not have it any other way.<br />
Til next time, P.C. <br />
</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4027767918411449978-2200258816732081359?l=thiscantbepc.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jonoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4027767918411449978.post-2160470836406284112009-11-20T10:27:00.001-05:002009-11-20T10:29:30.834-05:002009-11-20T10:29:30.834-05:00The 8th Wonder of the WorldI ran into this video today and it reminded me of the reason why Miami is do darn hot. Enjoy and GO HEAT!<br />
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Stay Miami hot,<br />
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P.C.<br />
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<object classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" height="394" id="ep" width="388"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true" /><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always" /><param name="wmode" value="transparent" /><param name="movie" value="http://i.cdn.turner.com/nba/nba/.element/swf/1.1/cvp/nba_embed_container.swf?context=heat&videoId=teams/heat/2009/11/19/heatbluenoteintro-1131763" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#000000" /><embed src="http://i.cdn.turner.com/nba/nba/.element/swf/1.1/cvp/nba_embed_container.swf?context=heat&videoId=teams/heat/2009/11/19/heatbluenoteintro-1131763" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" bgcolor="#000000" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="388" wmode="transparent" height="394"></embed></object><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4027767918411449978-216047083640628411?l=thiscantbepc.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jonoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4027767918411449978.post-22408075976070544642009-11-18T19:58:00.001-05:002009-11-18T20:13:55.982-05:002009-11-18T20:13:55.982-05:00Headlines and HorrorsOnce again, here's a round-up of the ridiculousness I read in the news.<br />
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"Central Florida teen charged with murder, burning remains"<br />
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Apparently 19-year-old Zachary Snyder from Dunnellon, Fl., was charged with killing a woman and burning her body in the backyard fire pit. Now I'm sure you want to know what evil thing this lady must have done to the kid to deserve such an end, right? Well, get this. The woman that sociopath killed and then tried to disposed of by burning in her own backyard, was this 66-year-old whom along with her husband had taken him in several years ago, in an attempt to keep him out of foster care. Now I don't know the back story to this and since he has yet to confess I suppose we should consider him innocent until proven guilty, right? I guess what they say is right, "no good deed goes unpunished." Rest in peace Doris Babcock.<br />
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"Police: Girl, 15, dug grave anticipating killing"<br />
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Here's yet another example of our society's finest. [Insert extreme sarcasm here]. 15-year-old Alyssa Bustamante from Jefferson City, Mo., dug 2 holes on the ground and went hunting for victims. She eventually murdered her 9-year-old neighbor by strangling, cutting her throat and repeatedly stabbing her. The victim had done absolutely nothing to the teenage psychopath, whose reason for killing was as followed: "I just wanted to see what it felt like to kill someone." Now deep inside, I'm hoping this girl is either insane, off her medications, or has an undiagnosed brain tumor the size of a melon that's messing with her noggin. They're trying her as an adult, which I think is just right. Think about it, this girl dug the holes several days before she killed that innocent little girl and hid the body so well that it took the police several days to find it. Matter of fact, she had to lead them to it.<br />
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Now I don't know about you, but this really begs the question, where did we go wrong as a society for a 15-yr old girl to think it's okay to take the life of another human being, just because she felt like it? Why is it that we can't even do a nice deed (like saving a kid from foster care) without thinking about the possibility of him killing then barbecuing us later in our own fire pit just to enjoy a shopping spree with our wallets? I want to hear your thoughts and comments on this.<br />
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As always, stay golden and remember, murder just isn't cool.<br />
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P.C. <br />
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P.S.: I obviously don't own the image.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4027767918411449978-2240807597607054464?l=thiscantbepc.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jonoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4027767918411449978.post-80989989630091715372009-11-17T00:01:00.001-05:002009-11-17T00:57:14.204-05:002009-11-17T00:57:14.204-05:00Graceful Narcissism<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Some people have been complaining that I don't update this thing enough... well, one person really. But since she means so much to me, this is an update just for the sake of updating.<br />
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Last friday, I had my second photoshoot with my friend <a href="http://edsonandre.com/">Edson Andre</a> and his friend <a href="http://kissyfaceartistry.com/">Bethy Pierre of KissyFace Artistry</a>. These two are very passionate about what they do and also very talented. It's great to work with such people because they make the whole process so much fun. It was also the first time that I had my face "done" for more than 5 minutes. I've always been a lip gloss and that's it kind of girl. It was nice to get all dolled up. <br />
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Here are a few shots from the shoot:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_94VNN6I9awg/SwIn223y4zI/AAAAAAAAABo/Jco8NueK7C0/s1600/me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_94VNN6I9awg/SwIn223y4zI/AAAAAAAAABo/Jco8NueK7C0/s320/me.jpg" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> This last shot was my absolute favorite of the night. The only one that was actually done outside. And keep in mind, it was around 3:30-4 am on a nippy Gainesville night. But the end result was pretty much amazing. Definitely head to Edson's website for better quality of the pics.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_94VNN6I9awg/SwIrrl6PAFI/AAAAAAAAAB4/yHjaxJyXFnI/s1600/me2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_94VNN6I9awg/SwIrrl6PAFI/AAAAAAAAAB4/yHjaxJyXFnI/s320/me2.jpg" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">During the shoot, I must say the three of us got into a heated debate --well it was 2 v. 1, Bethy and I against Edson-- regarding professionalism. This discussion arose from Edson showing us the myspace page of a photographer by the name of <a href="http://www.mayaguezphoto.com/">Maya Guez</a>. She had a <a href="http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.channel&contributorid=23720156">video on her myspace page</a>, in which she was introducing herself in an overtly sexual manner and I felt like she was being unprofessional and degraded herself and her talent, but Edson as always the antagonist, supported her "creative" style. Needless to say, it was a fun discussion.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And to round up the weekend, the Gators won...again! The Dolphins won against the Bucs 25-23... and yeah, the Hurricanes lost, but we shall not talk about that. And being in Gainesville has really messed with my whole Miami Heat fan routine... must do better. That is all for now.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As always, <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">P.C.<br />
</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4027767918411449978-8098998963009171537?l=thiscantbepc.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jonoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4027767918411449978.post-35028774902807351772009-11-11T15:38:00.004-05:002009-11-18T20:12:20.814-05:002009-11-18T20:12:20.814-05:00Did Trey songz Really Invent Sex?By now, I'm pretty sure everyone has seen Trey Songz new video for "I Invented Sex" and ohhh baby, if you haven't then you are truly missing out. Trey gets all sexy with an actual model, good move because I think a "video girl" -- you know, the ones with the derrieres the size of Montana -- would have made the video slutty as opposed to Oh so darn sexy. But don't take my word for it, peep this.<br />
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Til next time, <br />
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P.C.<br />
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