Penis!

(more frequently update at frozensilver17.livejournal.com, 'cause China does not block it...bastards)

OMG, Chinese people--

STOP LOOKING AT MY PENIS!

I'm talking to the men specifically. Whenever I go to the bathroom and I'm at the urinal that's placed too low, I'mma need for you to stop trying to catch a peak at what's betwixt my legs! It's not all the time, but it's enough times for me to notice. I know I look different, but isn't enough that you study my hair, skin, height, weight, shoe size, and all those other things that make me stand out? Must my penis also fall prey to your investigations?

And they're so sly about it. They don't turn their entire head and pee over the (unlikely) division between the urinals, but ever so obviously look out of the corners of their eyes to see what's up.Meanwhile, bathroom etiquette and standards of privacy are just thrown out of the window. In America, when we menfolk do our business, we pull close to the urinal so that no one might be offended by our naughty bits.

The Chinese, however, don't, and will stand about 3 feet away from the urinal, stream and all visible to anyone who walks past. It is not uncommon for a guy to see another guy's wang in public here, but even more so, it is even encouraged with all the public bathing and rituals that kids carry out, like telling their foreign English teacher that the classmates penis is very big, and that his own is very small. Chinese boys, though, are like monkeys--always climbing on each other, giving each other massages, sometimes holding hands, undoubtedly linking arms...I'd get turned on if I didn't prefer to play with kids my own age.So, yes--China likes the ding-ding. And my ding-ding is a fancy new toy.

Let the games begin ^____^

Reposted

At Starbucks again... I never thought I'd be a Starbucks fan since I worked for its closest rival for a year.

Earlier today it was raining, as Grandma used to say, "pitchforks and nigger babies." I'm not sure if she would've wanted me to say that she said that, but she did say that, and it was funny 'cause it just kind of popped out of her mouth and I was like all like, "Grandma! I can't believe you said that! Hahahaha!" As it gets closer to the one year mark of when she went home, I'm sad that she's not around, but not as sad as if we had not settled all our debts.

I remember about a year ago going to her house to say goodbye before I went to China. We had a good talk about why I wawsn't going to church and hadn't gone that day (I'm a bad boy), but I left feeling encouraged, loved, and forgivin for my transgressions. I remember kissing her on the cheek, telling her I loved her (and being told I was loved), and also saying I would see her again before either one of us knew it. The last part is equally true--we will see each other again someday, and in the meantime, I'm going to live the kind of life that hopefully will make people remember me as fondly when I pass on.

I swear I'm taking pictures! I have quite a few--of my neighborhood, the campus on which I teach, some random gardens and buddhas, nights out with friends...but when i tired to upload them I had some issues, so I gave up. I'll try again, or I'll put them somewhere else and send you all the link. Tomorrow, I start teaching. I made this beautiful Powerpoint presentation only to go to MY classroom (yes, it's all mine--I have the key and everything), only to find out that most of my equipment is hard to find out, especially when it's written in Chinese. Even more strange, I didn't find any chalk in the classroom, nor erasers--I'm not sure if I have to provide them myself or not, but if I do, I might as well be working at some underfunded, inner-city school in the states. Think of me as Michelle Phifer in Dangerous Minds, only I'm a black man and my students are Chinese.

Speaking of my students, I see them all over campus the last couple of days, and I swear they're having "black man sightings" or something. When they see me, they go "Waaaaa..." (translation: Chinese for "whoooooo!") and tell their friends. Today, I went into McDonald's and one of my students told the person on the phone that he saw the foriegn teacher in Chinese. I turned around and said "Yes, you're right! You got it" in Chinese to him, and of course he felt all bashful and stuff. Oh well, I'm a celebrity before I even step into the classroom--I just got to make sure I can back it up.

Speaking of being black, my contact teachers are ridiculous. Apparently, they had a black teacher before me, so the contact teacher thought it was fitting to tell me, "You don't have a black accent." I was like, "Um...no, I don't. *smile*" She then said that the person was some dude from Georgia, and knowing how black people talk in Georgia, I completely understand where she was coming from ^_^ (shoutout to the Augusta clan!). She then asked me did I play any sports >_> to which I said I was focusing on my studies for most of school so I didn't play. She then replied she heardt that black people are good at sports, and I told her that was a scandelous lie. Next time I should tell her, "Yes, we are good at sports. And dancing, singing, making babies, running the United States, writing books, killing people, having HIV, and filling people with the Holy Ghost." Yes, black people are a very diverse group, just like ANY OTHER RACE. But since I don't want to get fired or scare this Chinese woman silly, I'll hold back.
I also let cool Chinese people touch my hair. This Chinese girl I met through a person in the program who speaks fantastic English likes to touch my hair. Usually I would say no, but she is just so fascinated by it I let it slide. I'm building cross-cultural bridges every day ^_^.

The coffee is starting to hit me, as you might be able to tell 'cause I'm writing really silly things :-)

I'm still alive

I am a living testimony.
I could'a been dead and gone,
But, Lord, You let me live on.
I am a living testimony,
And I thank the Lord that I'm still alive.

Ever feel like you can't think?

That's what I feel like, a lot of the time. I think that I've confused my mellowing-out in the last few years to be a sign of my increasing stupidity. I'm not as passionate about issues, people, or concepts as I used to be, but maybe that's because my life has gotten better instead of worse in the last couple of years. My idea of a good time consists of being in pajamas, talking on my cell phone, and watching Law & Order marathons on TNT/USA.

But besides that, with an impending adventure on the horizon, I have something to look forward to, and to fear, and to dread. But, that's ok. Being able to look at movies or travel specials and to say, "I've been there before! Look, Ma!" makes me thrilled to be alive. Quiet afternoons with friends or locopops or drives through Hillsborough...

Yea. The Sweet Life.

By the way, did you hear about the man in the moon?


--I Got Life

How dare you.

Really? You're scum. You've been beating on a woman? On the mother of your child? You've been making the lives of your loved ones hell, and exercising your manhood by flexing your muscles at people weaker than you? You drive my friend to tears, drive her our of her home, drive her to the law, and drive her into a life of possible misery because you chose to show your anger through your fist instead of stepping up to the challenge of being a competent adult.

May God curse you. Dead.

I like it.

I've got to tell you
how I love you always
I think of it on grey
mornings with death

in my mouth the tea
is never hot enough
then and the cigarette
dry the maroon robe

chills me I need you
and look out the window
at the noiseless snow

At night on the dock
the buses glow like
clouds and I am lonely
thinking of flutes

I miss you always
when I go to the beach
the sand is wet with
tears that seem mine

although I never weep
and hold you in my
heart with a very real
humour you'd be proud of

the parking lot is
crowded and I stand
rattling my keys the car
is empty as a bicycle

what are you doing now
where did you eat your
lunch and were there
lots of anchovies it

is difficult to think
of you without me in
the sentence you depress
me when you are alone

Last night the stars
were numerous and today
snow is their calling
card I'll not be cordial

there is nothing that
distracts me music is
only a crossword puzzle
do you know how it is

when you are the only
passenger if there is a
place further from me
I beg you do not go

Frank O'Hara [1926-1966], 'Morning'

Focus

When you listen to God/Instincts/that inner voice inside of you, there's no way you can be wrong.

What I hoped would happen in regards to my finances has happened because, well, I trusted in that inner voices, and out of nowhere, a way has been made without a refund check. A man who labors will reap the rewards he seeks.

I'm re-reading Go Tell it on the Mountain by James Baldwin because the first time I read it, I was too young, and while I remember it being greatly influential at the time, I didn't have the life experiences to really put what I learned into practice. The desperation the main characters feel when they must confront how to best handle their worldly instincts with those aligned to a higher purpose is present to me in several ways, currently my battle with quitting smoking, which I've failed to do. Although I know that in the long run smoking has no positive benefits whatsoever, it's remarkable that the urge to puff is so ingrained in my daily rituals that a day without cigs is unthinkable. Quite literally, a strong agitation grips me when I see the last two or three cigs in the box, and I start to calculate whether the final ones will get me through the night, whether I'll have to run by the store, or just how long will I have to wait before lung cancer/emphesyma/poverty force me out of my habit.

The higher purpose of what I should do is without a doubt more beneficial, yet the pull of the nicotine, the image I can project, and the habits reinforced by the cigarette are so alluring it's hard to put them down. A similar instance takes place in the book where John, a young boy brow-beaten by his parent's religious fanaticism, stands on top of a hill, gazing down at the city before him. He sees the perils of Hell throughout the city, but cannot resist descending into the belly of the town, watching a worldly moving, and identifying so deeply with the woman in the film who so proudly sticks it to everyone who knows her. I so got it, and James Baldwin's queerness saturates his writing, crafting beautiful scenarios and descriptions with which I easily identify.

---

I'm trying to learn Korean, but dammit, I have trouble remembering the vocab. This has never been a problem in the beginning stages of any language I've studied. Any suggestions on what I should do?

+_+_+

Graduate

I'm a college graduate. Yay.

I mean, HALLELUJAH~!

Having anticipated something for so long, it's great to see it realized because only a few weeks ago everything was shrouded in impossibilities. At times, I wasn't sure I would complete the semester, much less with anything considered to be "passing." But, I did, and I'm grateful. So very grateful.

In preparation for the next stop on the journey of life, I'm spending my entire summer working to procure money for a program I'm not really sure I'll enjoy, far away from the people I love in a city I'm kind of ambivalent about (which is a step up from the hate I felt towards it a few weeks ago), yet standing at this precipice, I feel the fear that comes when one is prepared to start something new, and being used to the emotion, I take it in stride.

My friends are adults now, and I guess college was the last step before reaching true adulthood. I don't feel anymore mature, just more powerful, like no one has the power to take anything away from me that I don't willingly give them. It's a great place to be, because being accountable only to myself and God, the possibilities of life are limitless if I work harder. Wow.