Threequarters

Verbatim

Me: By the way, I met Alice Walker last night.

My Dad: You’re kidding me, that’s incredible!

Me: I know! This is why I love living in San Francisco.

My Dad: You know, he used to go to our church.

Me: No WAY! Why have I never heard about this??? …wait a second, Alice Walker never lived in San Diego… Dad, you are talking about Alice COOPER. Alice Cooper used to go to our church.

My Dad: Oh wait, Alice Walker is that Color Purple chick, isn’t she?

Me: Yes Dad.

Restoring my Faith

Since the day U.S. bombs started dropping in Iraq, I have been searching for ways to assuage my incredible rage and grief over the cruelty that is taking place. My first instinct was to protest because this has always been my primary method of catharsis. There is something so incredibly rejuvenating about collecting with others who share my sadness and anger and screaming through the streets at the top of my lungs. Chanting my demands for justice in a chorus of thousands…having my song fall on the ears of anyone who happens to be nearby…making my disapproval known on a wider scale…these things have always been able to restore me in the past.

But protest failed me this time around. I was met with police brutality, frustration from my friends and their mothers who disagree with my tactics, and complaints from coworkers about how much I was costing the city I love. Last week, I felt like a teenager who had slit her wrists as a cry for help, but instead of the world waking up to all of the things that have gone wrong, I was chastised for spilling blood on the carpet.

When protest was unsuccessful, I tried surrounding myself with things that have made me happy and comforted me in the past. Baseball, sushi, barbecues, weed, Missy Elliot… but the more I indulged in this ridiculous regimen of self-medication, the more guilt I felt for my tendency toward consumption. I kept thinking about the innocent Iraqis that are being slaughtered in order to ensure that I maintain the privilege of buying raw fish for dinner and picnicking in a beautifully manicured park.

But last night I think I found the answer to how I’m gonna get through this war with my soul intact. I went to hear Alice Walker speak and read from her new book of poems. And she was so incredibly wise and strong that I was overcome with hope. I had gotten to a point where I was beginning to doubt whether true wisdom existed and whether beauty was possible without being connected to the oppression of others. But Alice walker dashed away those fears in one fell swoop. Her voice was clear and her courage washed over the audience like a river. I left feeling baptized by her strength.

I have decided that the artist will get me through this war. It seems like such an obvious answer now that I know it. Artists have the capability to renew my faith that life is full of preciousness and that the world is full of beautiful things to take in if I challenge myself to see them. Artists remind me that there are brilliant people in this world, even if they aren’t the ones selected to run the country I live in. Artists have the capability to reveal truth, even when it is shrouded in layers upon layers of hate-filled lies. The artist is a warrior of another kind, and she will carry me through this.

But Can They Write Musicals???

Here it is, folks. These are the people that I'll be spending the next two years with in Maryland. Aren't they cute???

Keeping the Enemy Close

After a year and a half of research, essay writing, interviewing, and constant stress, I am extremely relieved and proud to announce that I have finally selected a Grad School!!! This fall I will be attending the University of Maryland (College Park). Yes, I will be living down the street from President Bush because I believe in keeping my enemies close. A few notable facts:
1. I will be a student in the #1 counseling program in the country.
2. My school’s mascot is "Testudo the Terrapin." Yes, that’s a turtle.
3. My new school’s fight motto is, in fact, "Fear the Turtle!"
4. I will be 10 minutes from Washington D.C., so you people better come and visit me.
5. I will be working as the Graduate Coordinator for Student Involvement & Leadership at the University of Maryland, Baltimore County.
6. I also hope to work as the house mom in a Fraternity or Sorority (although, I haven’t secured this position just yet).
7. For the first time in my life I’ll be in classes that have just as many students of color as white students.
8. For the first time in my life I’ll be attending a school that is mentioned in a Missy Elliot song. =)

Thanks to all for putting up with me when I was stressed and insane.
Much Love,
Jolie

Gurlz Gone Wild Part II

When we left off, Jolie and Said Girl were having crazy wild lesbian sex. I won’t say too much because my mama taught me not to kiss and tell. But she also taught me to share the lessons I’ve learned with those around me. Lesson #1: Even when it’s fast and furious, Lesbian sex lasts surprisingly long. I remember one time in high school, having a conversation with my friend Ella about this fact. In our recklessly silly youth we were lamenting about the fact that entire days and sleep schedules had to be altered to accommodate the marathons that might ensue. Well, the adventure with said girl was no different.

Saturday, 8:00am – After less than two hours of sleep, the alarm clock goes off because said girl is scheduled to have breakfast with her mother in Berkeley at 8:30. I’m wary because I expect her to be freaked out about the night before. But she is adorable and not spazzy at all. She smiles and says she’s glad she spent the night and then we kiss goodbye. On her way out she says, “I can’t wait to tell my mother I’m dating a girl.” I am impressed by her readiness and thrown off by how comfortable she is with the way things are moving so quickly. I think about this briefly and then I fall back asleep for several hours.

Saturday, 1:00pm – Erica and Emily call (they have been at breakfast with Laura, who is in town visiting). Erica notices my groggy voice:
Erica: Did I wake you up!?!
Me: Yeah, but it’s ok, I should get up anyway.
Erica: Dude, I can’t believe you’re still asleep, what time did you get home last night!?!
Me: Eh, well…. Said girl and I got home around 1:00, but we didn’t get much sleep.
Erica: Oh no you didn’t!
Emily: WHAT, are you SERIOUS.
Me: Um, I’m gonna go back to sleep. I’m really tired. Talk later, k?

Saturday, 3:00pm – Erica, Emily, and I leave for Tahoe. Said girl and a car full of her (and Emily’s) friends are already on the road an hour ahead of us. This weekend had been planned before any dating or sex had taken place. Before the sex, said girl and I had talked about “staying chill” up at the cabin. After sex, we revamped the plan and agreed that we would stay in the same room in Tahoe and that there would probably be more sex. We talk about how this will be ok because everyone who will be at the cabin already knows that we’re dating.

Saturday, 8:00pm – Erica, Emily, and I arrive at the cabin. Emily’s step-brother,
Frank (who lives at the cabin) greets us with hugs and shots of jager meister. The others are already well on their way to drunkenness. Said girl and I make eye-contact and smile, but she is involved in a drunken game of pool and I am eager to start catching up with those who are already feeling all warm and fuzzy.

Saturday, 11:00pm – After several hours of drunken revelry , dancing madness, and plenty of booty shakin , we all take a deep breath, take stock of the situation, and somebody says “hey, does anyone know where Said Girl and Frank are???”

Responses: Tiffany Jolie and Erica

Yes, that’s right, Said Girl had disappeared with Emily’s step-brother and soon enough, we would all be hearing exactly what they had disappeared to. Said girl had woken up in my bed Saturday morning after hours upon hours of polyclimactic sex, only to go and have sex that night with a boy she’d never met. Sex which, by the way, couldn’t possibly be as good as the sex she’d already had with me because let’s be honest, boys have limitations that girls do not.

Sunday, 9:00am – Frank, Said girl, and the rest of her crew leave the cabin to go snowboarding for the day. Before they leave, SG slips into my room to apologize for being such a slut. I tell her that I am not hurt, but am rather annoyed. She takes this as her cue to exit and does so.

Sunday, 9:05am – 5:00pm – Erica, Emily, and I spend the day enjoying ourselves in the snow. We discuss at length our shock and disdain for SG’s actions and officially rename her “Bitch Ho.” Erica and I find catharsis in writing “that’s booty!” in the snow. While Emily builds snowboarding jumps
out of rocks and does other sporty things. All in all, we have a very fun day
.

Sunday, 6:00pm – After a full day of snowboarding, Frank comes home COMPLETELY unaware of his social transgression. Remember, everybody ELSE at the party knew that Bitch Ho and I were dating, but Frank was completely oblivious to this subtle, but important detail.

Me: Hey Frank, can I talk to you in private for a second… nothing’s wrong, I just feel like we need to have a chat.
Frank: Uh oh, here it comes, I’m gonna get the one night stands are bad speech.
Me: No Frank, I swear, you’re not gonna get a speech about one night stands.
Frank: Shit dude, I’m in so much trouble. I knew I was gonna get a lecture.
Me: Frank, shut the fuck up, I don’t care about one night stands. I just need to fill you in about something.
Frank: Uh, ok

***Frank and I slip off into the bedroom for a private talk. In the meantime, Emily and Erica take advantage of this alone-time opportunity to make-out in the living room while I am pouring my heart out to Frank….I’m just setting the scene here.*******

Me: So, you know how SG spent the night in your bed last night? Well, that morning, she’d woken up in my bed. Because we were dating. Only you didn’t know that. So I’m not pissed or anything… I just thought you should know.
Frank: (after blurting out a plethora of shocked apologies) So, what you’re telling me is that we’ve basically slept together now.
Me: Yes Frank, that’s exactly what I’m saying.
Frank: So, was she as crazy wild in bed with you as she was with me??? (I’m not making this up… he really did say that)

*** For the next several minutes, Frank and I compared our bruises and various other battle wounds. The picture of Franks bite marks
didn’t turn out very well. And pictures of my marks wouldn’t be appropriate, if you catch my drift. In the end, Frank was just sick
over what had happened. ****

Monday, 10:00am – Emily, Erica, and I pack up to leave and start saying our goodbyes. Frank gives me a huge bear hug and says “Hey, sorry about fucking your girlfriend. I’ll try to be more careful next time.” I assure him that I’m over it, and go on my merry way.

************* THE END***************

Greetings from Planet Cali

As some of you may know, this Saturday I will be flying to Maryland for my second round of assistantship interviews. Now, I have been having plenty of doubts about whether or not I am cut out for east coast life. I am well aware that I grew up, not just in California, but in SOUTHERN California – which is infamous for having a culture of its own. In order to prepare for the possible move, I’ve been trying to cut back on my use of the word “like.” I have kept my drug related jokes to a minimum. And I’ve been reminding myself that I am rather driven when I stay in an environment that fosters such behavior. However, all of my efforts may be in vain. Some things are just beyond me.

Today, members of my potential cohort started sending “let’s get to know each other and stress out together about our interviews via e-mail” letters. One of the first things I noticed is that I am the only person who seems to be from a school that no one has heard of. But I didn’t let that discourage me. “UPS was a good school,” I said, “I can play with the big boys.” Then I went on to read the following conversation:

“I'm also really excited about meeting all of you this weekend. So, I guess the big question is: business casual or business attire on Sunday?? Survey please.”

“And as for the poll - I think that sporty business casual is a good plan.”

“Oh, for me, I'm rolling with business casual!”

My official response to this is: WHAT THE FUCK??? ARE THEY FUCKING KIDDING ME? WHAT THE HELL DOES ANY OF THAT MEAN??????????
I’m serious people, is this how they talk over there in the land of appearances count? I mean, I wasn’t planning on going in flip-flops and a bikini top, but shit dude. I just don’t know what to do with myself. Am I overreacting, or do these people seem like they are from another planet? Survey please.

lookin' for lesbians? move along...

if you're looking for the sequel to "gurlz gone wild" you've come to the wrong place. now if you're looking for a good old-fashioned, rambling post about not much of anything, well then, my friends, you're in for a treat!

so guess what? i got into berkeley!! i'll start next fall and go through two years of intense studying to become an underpaid, unappreciated professional who spends her days surrounded by walking germ factories. suffice it to say, i am hella excited. i am thinking of applying for this program that pays for all of your tuition if you agree to teach 4 years at shitty schools that have little to no funding. again, sounds wonderful to me.

the point of all this (well, really not the point, just the part that my obsessive mind has chosen to, um, obsess about) is that if everything goes according to schedule, i.e. i get through grad school in 2 years and teach with this program for 4 years, I WILL BE 30! i essentially have my life planned until my next decade starts. this is difficult for my commitment-phobic mind to deal with. i have trouble packing myself a lunch in the morning for fear that by noon i will be totally disinterested in what seemed like a perfectly reasonable choice a few hours earlier. i must admit, my thirties seem much less scary lately, but somehow combining the getting older issue with the commitment thing is putting thoughts of running off to a distant island into my head. running off backwards, of course, so as to slow down time. it's a good thing kids are so fucking cute, or i'd be stocking up on suntan oil and cabana boys instead of textbooks and sensible footwear. wow. you see what i mean? if i suddenly disappear, y'all might want to think about contacting tumba. i bet he's still got an island for me.

*Here we have a beautiful picture of Tumbon Beach, fascinating since it not only sounds like Tumba, but is found in Guam, where Jason's uncle is.