random fleetiness...

rolling the '97 Giant red, old-school, heavy mountain bike down rainier avenue, thinking about everything and nothing. obama. black pride in obama. black expectation of obama's policies. the real confinements of the american presidency. is obama the black michael douglass of "the american president?" someone with nuts and a personality? a president we can revere and admire? will we pay more taxes when he asks? will we openly embrace newly arrived inhabitants to our established communities when the move in, despite their cultural and socio-economic differences? why is the only food available on rainier fried food? matter of fact, where is the billy d. williams colt 45 sign? might as well, right? why did we lose to franklin on monday? when does the stark divide between african and african-american go away? will obama build that "bridge?" can we stop with the black/white discussion? american IS defined as many races, ethnicities. and just because we don't scream the loudest, doesn't mean we don't exist, dammit! its as if having a black president has rendered us even more invisible. is there such a thing as double-invisible? whose labor, blood and sweat is the new generation of the american construction industry? whose, labor, blood and sweat make american restaurants go? who built west coast farming and the railroads to Promontory Point, Utah but were left out of the photo when east met west? yum, taco times. but fried. at least the bomb beef burrito is. riding down jackson, i realized just how war impacts immigration patterns. the vietnam war reconstructed rainier and jackson with language, shops, and culture. its amazing. i just wish it didn't take a bloody war to convince the american government it was ok to let Vietnamese into the states. down 4th avenue, blowing by westlake center and all of the people. do they drive? do the take the bus? what if a couple more of them rode a bike? what if we had light rail, for real? would that really make a difference in the environment? would we be in better shape? would people actually converse on the train, instead of in their car? we should see, don't you think? the rest of the ride was full of thoughts too...but i have to go to work, overactive mind, full of questions, politics, an underlying groove of jadedness, non-negative, situated in real experience, not anger, questions, critical ones, hoping, wishing, praying to move forward toward critical thought...which is exactly what barack wants us to do. think y'all! question y'all! and ride...stimulates random thought i hear. by the way, if i have an idol, its gary payton.

aimless wanderings of an oozing mind...

should is a powerful, pushy sort of word. and when i get caught up in what i "should" do, as opposed to what i would or want to do, my mind and soul conflict. am i in one of those times? not really. but my mind oozes, searching for solidifying compounds, people, books, espresso macchiatos. i "should" be as excited as i have ever been, politically, socially, even personally. Barack Obama is about to be sworn in as president of the united states...a black president! damn! and if we can get off of this black/white binary thing where everyone in between black and white (see yellow, brown, red) is invisible, then we might get somewhere. i "should" be excited about the maybe/probably funky dope coffee shop in columbia city, filled with candles, d'angelo, elements of cool, and the aroma of stumptown coffee...and i am. this is my dream, my creation, or "another bad one" if you want to call it that? yet, there will always be a nostalgic remnant of night and bartending (or barbacking when i work with particularly slow ones). why? am i always wishing for what's next? dreaming the next "vision?" or is there really reason to miss it? and we (seattle) are finally finally finally building light rail. a city with light rail and bike lanes and coffee shops and sushi make for a giddy, emotionally skyrocketing soul, yet there are days when i am a somber bicylclist, cold and dreary. today it is amazingly sunny, and i remembered to take my vitamin D. all is well as my mind morphs into some semblance of shape, not amoeba-like, and thoughts solidfy. tomorrow, we shall see...

Mariners Entry Number One

Let me get this straight...we ended last season with an overly corporate mentality, a bunch of bandwagon bootsie fans who couldn't name a single Mariner before the 95 season, and the lies that Erik Bedard may once again be our savior. we had jettisoned richie sexson and managed to build revisit the imperative question of what makes a valuable centerfielder a below league average right fielder (Ichiro)...and i wanted to wash my hands of the only team i adore more than my University of Michigan Wolverines. who knew we would change our direction from a howie and chuck and their firm grasp on the profits of the 95 and 2001 seasons to a more sabermetric, non-stone age approach. i applauded the hire of Jack Zduriencik, he who was responsible for the drafting of Ryan Braun and Prince Fielder. there has been no Al Chambers, Sam Mays, or even Matt Tuiososopos lately for Jack Z. He knows you cannot build a team with players older than 29 years old. Mathematic analysis has proven that major league baseball players peak between ages 27 and 29. he knows he can build with a nucleus of Adrian Beltre, Jeff Clement, King Felix, and Brandon Morrow. The rest can kiss my behind. Most of all, i believe Jack Z. absolutely, will not, under any circumstance, allow players like Willie Bloomquist or a washed up Aaron Sele to don a Mariners uniform simply because they are from the state of Washington. Nothing gets me more angry than the Willie B. apologists who cheer his groundouts and occasional stolen base like he's our savior. The guy has no place in major league baseball, as a no-hit, little field, try-hard, malaka. just out of curiousity, would the reaction be the same if he wasn't white? why didn't we treat Jason Ellison the same way? they grew up together. we'll save that for another blog. so i have established my faith in Jack Z. and get up in the morning prioritizing in this order...number one, is my daughter safe? number two, is my girlfriend safe? next to me? dang she's beautiful. and number three, where is the newspaper? i need my Jack Z. movement fix...NOW! i literally feel shots of adrenilin reading about his philosophies, his approach. and now the brother hires don wakamatsu? YEAH BOY! the first asian american manager in the major leagues, a lifer. he has that stone face that says there will be no half-steppin' on his watch. and they both say they want to establish a "mariner way" of playing ball. i love it. i would rather pay to see this team of hard-working, non stone-age GM and manager roll a potentially brilliant group of young ballers than a veteran-laden 85 win team with no chance of winning a ring. thank goodness for Jack Z. I CAN'T WAIT!!!!

present...

The moment you realize your child is becoming an independent person…I finished up my daughter’s first trimester parent-teacher conference a couple of hours ago and I have so many thoughts flowing and brewing in my head. She is a leader, she is bossy, she asks for more math during free choice time (like her father!) and she is very sensitive. All of these I knew walking in…and I was so incredibly proud when the first words out of her teacher’s mouth were, “I want you to know, first and foremost that Malia is such a joy to have in class and I absolutely love her big personality.” My daughter, the little bean of a person I held in the crook of my arm 6 years ago, is now a leader and a little girl who brings joy to the lives of others. Not family who love unconditionally, but her teacher and her friends who can choose to love her. I often wonder how I am so lucky to have a little girl with so much love to bring. She has a huge heart and a caring soul and those around her feed off of this. She is already motivates and inspires people to love and learn. And through these words of further encouragement and excitement from her first grade teacher, the characteristic or trait her teacher spoke to was Malia’s inner drive. She said Malia has a fire, a drive to learn, a thirst for knowledge, and she needs no motivation to find her resources and put in the effort to absorb. She is a self-starter, self-motivated. I don’t know if it is an innocent love for learning, a desire to better than those around her, a fear of failure, or she purely enjoys learning new things. What I do know is the one undying heartbeat which has kept me pushing and has supported my perseverance is my inner fire. The great ones have that inner fire, that undying drive to succeed and to improve. I am not calling myself great. Everyone knows that is not the case. But I am starting to learn that my daughter has the base to become great, and is blessed with the engine to push herself to new heights. She is talented and has a different sort of desire. She is my daughter, and I will do anything in my power to nurture and support anything she is passionate about. I love her, more than anything in this world. And today made me smile and dream of what she might be. Wow….what a birthday present…

a dynamic time...

the current national economic crisis has motivated all of us to reconsider and reevaluate what is important, and what can be sacrificed. resources we once considered renewable, bullet-proof, and guaranteed have all but disappeared. i think we all define our most prized resources in different ways. mine are people. my daughter, my mother, my girlfriend, my sister, my family, and all of these are quite safe. we are not protected from frustration and strife, but our health and stability are not in question. which brings me to the question, why are we all so stressed? what is causing this angst i feel in my gut. our house was burglarized last week, my laptop and xbox stolen. many of my families irreplaceable possessions taken. wedding ring, family heirloom jewelery, cameras, money. there is a feeling of violation, and for my sister, this was her first exposure to having something taken from her unjustifiably. i keep coming back to the fact that we are all safe. so i am conflicted...do i even have the right to be angry. a laptop and an xbox can be replaced. its only money, right? and those people i love are safe. am i really materialistic or is it the sense of unwarranted violation that is so upsetting. americans are losing jobs. americans are losing retirements. americans are losing their pride and self-worth...and i am "crying" about an xbox? so many changes are forthcoming, including how we view energy consumption, the working class, and the realistic parameters of our electable presidential candidates. everything is fluid, our values included. these times are dynamic and crazy. we went through enormous change during the depression and irrevokable change during WWII. today feels like one of those pivital times when, regardless of our values or beliefs, and despite the enormity of imnpact on our lives, we are all alive, juices flowing, anticipating what crazy event we will witness next. my bet is on sarah palin and tonight's VP debate. i'm excited, scared, smiling, depressed, motivated, sleepy, and in love simultaneously...and i still want my xbox back

i'm sorry...

when we drove past you, i critically said (out loud) that you had corny biking gear and an expensive bike and i criticized you for not really "riding" the way i would if i had the same gear. in this moment, i was expressing all that is ugly in me. for this, i am sorry. you didn't know i said what i did. and i have no clue what the rest of your life consists of. what i do know is that i was acting out of my own insecurities. being so incredibly judgemental was young and small and ugly. i am trying so hard to be more present, to not judge, and to certainly not criticize to make myself feel better. being mean was my false medication. and i used you on that particular day. i was put in my place. karma is a bitch. and i commit to doing my best to work that ugly side of me into something constructive. i am sorry...

the progression of race...

what is your immediate reaction to someone asking, "what are you?" if you are able answer without referring to some physical marking which visually identifies you, think about why? why is it a "political statement" when i "choose" to say an urban kid? or a father? or a lover? or a dork? and why do people always say, "you know what i mean..." as if i should know they mean race and ethnicity. isn't it my choice how i identify myself? and what will, "what are you?" mean when we are all some lighter shade of brown? will it mean are you rich? poor? fat? skinny? and imagine the looks if i said happy? or in love? and why are "skin-colored" band-aids not for me? this conversation is TBD baby!