that of which society values boils down to status and appearance;
dare we admit that we live in a society where the value of a man is placed on his prestige and limited to the figures in his bank account while a female's worth seems to only go as far as her sex appeal can push her?

originality seems a lost ideal, for on the rare occasions that it is found it is mimicked, repackaged and sold as a knock-off
how can we claim to strive to be our best if we spend our entire life trying to be like someone else?

the images and values that bombard us from our youth, mold and suppress us, leaving our identity behind a socially constructed veil; and who we are is hidden to a world whose observations are based solely on what the eye can see

don't be alarmed then if you fail to recognize yourself in the mirror, for trying to find yourself in your reflection is counterproductive and will just make you further lose sight of yourself

could we ever break free of the values of a world that is so inherently a part of what we are? and if we could would we even choose to do so?

while anyone can play the role of the social critic, we are all part of a system that can only perpetuate because we buy into it
and ultimately we are all just hypocrites who will spit on and label the filth with one face all the while secretly nourishing it with another

it happens all the time. one of my girl friends breaks up with a guy and is torn about it. she comes to me for comfort. she cries to me about the break up, I attempt to give her some sort of solace. "he is a total asshole... you can do so much better." my other friends chime in, "yah you are way too good for him." "i never liked him in the first place." and that's how it works. my girl friends keep getting dumped time and time again and I come up with the same explanations, the same excuses for why it never works out. i always tell them that there is better out there for them. that they are better than whatever situation they had placed themselves in. that they are wonderful, great, terrific, fabulous females. that any man would be lucky to have them. that's what they want to hear. that's what they need to hear... that it's not their fault. that it isn't because they aren't the most amazing human being to ever walk this earth, it's because he's a dick. those are the lies that friends tell each other.

let's cut the crap for a second and be fair. in my last blog i complained about some particular assholes i have encountered in the past few months, but one thing i never really went into detail on was myself. sure five of the six guys objectively were not winners, but if you think every guy you are ending up with is an asshole then you probably aren't the sweetest person yourself. maybe the truth is that they aren't assholes, and that you are just a bitch. or maybe they are assholes. maybe assholes date bitches and then they both complain about how they hate each other.

i hear it all the time... guys complaining about crazy bitches in their past. apparently every ex-girlfriend a guy has ever had is a crazy bitch and every ex-boyfriend a girl has ever had is a fucking asshole. funny how that works out. maybe we should just accept the evidence that is right in front of our faces. maybe there are no good guys. maybe there are no good girls. maybe we are all assholes and bitches. maybe every time we tell our girlfriends there is better out there we are lying. and every time we assure one of our guy friends that they will find a sweet, kind lady we are lying. they simply don't exist... on either pole of the gender spectrum.

maybe people find their "soulmate" when they finally realize this and choose to settle with the bitch that they can handle the most or the asshole whose shit they can put up with without going crazy. perhaps i'm just cynical, but i've never met a truly genuine good guy, nor have I ever known a truly genuine nice female. some people are more open about their assholeness and bitchiness than others. those are the people that get called out for being assholes and bitches most often. but then there are those other people... the ones who everyone thinks are so wonderful and so great, but really it is all a facade. once you get to know them, you realize that they are even more of a bitch/asshole than those who are open about it because they are deceptive and manipulative with their true selves. to me those are the worst types of bitches/assholes out there. those are the ones you have to watch out for.

like i said i may be pessimistic and cynical, but at the end of the day, do you not agree that my observations are somewhat true?

I don't know if any of you used to have a xanga (or perhaps still do) but today I found my old xanga that I used to write in when I was 15-years-old. (For those of you who can't do math, that was four years ago when I was a sophomore in high school) I found a couple interesting little tidbits I wrote there that I thought I would post. It's funny looking back on that time in my life. I was much more about hiding what I felt and expressing it in a different way. I can see how I have changed and grown since that time. Some of the writings sound to me as if I was lost. I am much more straightforward with my emotions and feelings now. Here are some of the things I wrote in my xanga if any of you would like to read them:

January 20, 2004

Does beauty really exist or, with time and the right vision, are things transformed to reveal beauty? Behold the beauty of the seasons; an untouched "natural" beauty that exists without the interference of human emotion. Yet, can this be a definition for beauty, and, with that, does this so-called beauty exist or has it been transformed and created into something that we may look at as beautiful? Was it not made to be beautiful before it came to be within the light of our own sight, or did that beauty exist eternally? And where, as in a person, the external may not naturally attract us to embrace this type of beauty, perhaps, this beauty can be revealed, if it did not already exist before our own eyes. But, then again, what is truly the nature of something that is beautiful. Beauty is something abstract enough to argue that it truly is in the eye of the beholder, or, consider, within the very heart and soul of the beholder.

So can we really measure the beauty of a person by their outer appearance? For how can a thing be beautiful if it is not cherished or loved? It is truly the exterior that may receive our glance but it is the person and the soul that will steal it. For when you really love someone, and see beyond there outer-selves to whom they really are, then you have discovered the beauty that exists within them. It is our very soul that makes us individual and that soul is, arguably, beautiful. We are all made to be beautiful, but without love our own beauty may never be revealed and may be left to expire--undiscovered by others. It is when we loose our own hope for beauty and our own hearts reject themselves that we have truly made ourselves vulnerable. When we lack our own beauty and do not rejoice in the beauty of other we are incomplete. Our beauty is the seed of the love we express to one another. Beyond this love, we must always find a seed that made us grow into something more complete than what we were before. It is through love that we not only find the beauty in ourselves but the beauty in others.

And although modern society may make us believe that beauty can be measured, colored, or created, this sort of attitude cannot be a part of the nature of love. Society may choose who to admire or who to put on the latest issue of Vogue, but they can never choose the decisions and feelings of the heart. What society may have established as pleasing to the eye can steal our lust and sexual desires, but the soul is what steals are hearts. And, with time, it comes to the point where the visual images are no longer important, but an obstacle withholding us from being what we truly are and knowing the beauty within each other. When we have realized that these outer obstacles have damaged our own perception and our real beauty can shine brightest of all when we are blind to our surroundings, then we will know that the lust and desires that were once developed in response to our exterior selves has been made into a stronger lust and desire that strives to understand and embrace the beauty—the soul—of another. And even then, we will not be able to precisely explain what beauty truly is, yet, only then, will we be able to understand it.

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January 19, 2004

It's kind of funny how it's always just a cover. The cover changes depending on the situation and the environment, but, nonetheless, it's still there. It's always hiding something--no matter what its actual purpose. It may make the exterior look more respectable, pleasant or, perhaps, even more unique, but the interior is none of those things. It's not a matter of letting go of the cover, but a matter of picking the right one for the right situation and environment. Because you can never get rid of that cover. No matter what you try, out of habit, if not, you will find yourself returning to your sanctuary beyond a cover.

Although, when you find yourself alone, you can identify and live up to what's beneath the cover, it will always lead you to shame what you wish you didn't have to hide. Feelings weren't meant to be restricted or held back. Yet the cover always returns, always finds itself a new spot to hide from vulnerability. And even when we find ourselves in a place when we are ultimately ready to stop being scared of the reaction or the changes that will occur once that cover is diminished, we realize that the interior is not acceptable. We hate ourselves for not being able to be strong enough to overcome the interior, but we realize that it is our own struggle that we were meant to fight alone. Maybe, someday, that will change, but not today. So once again we find ourselves a cover. New people, new situation: new cover. We long for the day when we can go with ourselves as we are and not need that cover. The day that others, too, may not feel the need to hide under their own covers despite rules or boundaries. In the end, the cover isn't keeping us safe and warm, but it is the cover that is slowly, but surely, destroying our spirits and killing our real identities.

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November 18, 2003

The gate to the garden,
May be trampled by vines that rust with the anguish of the old,
But it hides a story of beauty that has never been told,
Well beyond the cover of wretched regret,
Is a retreat for those who have nothing left,
For the gate may be misleading—the roads may be dirt,
But the sun never sets and the pain will never hurt,
The drugs are always free and the waters always clean,
The truth you can always see and perfection you can always dream,
That beyond a gate of grey ghosts of the last,
Is the body of innocence---the child of my past,

For what you saw wasn't what you perceived
Come run with me to save that child in need
The eternal path may carve the road
But ive been there before I know not what ive been told
Ive experienced the anxiety, that forever expands,
Ive witness its bruises, ive felt the slapping of its hands,
The burden of the dream that could never be true,
The burden of the reality that killed what I knew

Back to the days, when white was so pure
When heaven was a place where the sick could find cure
Not at God's gate would you find such a place
I took the wrong path, now this is the burden I face
The silver heavens seem so far away
Ive been led to the road of the ghosts that were gray
How familiar it is to see the gates where I fell
I thought this was sanctuary—but instead it was hell

The exterior ruined and the bars were rust
But inside was the satisfaction and desire for lust
The pleasure of thrust the world was our toy
But the bliss didn't last through the deduction of joy
The youth and beauty would disappear
As the pain and anxiety became more clear
What you thought was the truth was only a lie
What you live for and need is the reason you die

So here is where the path ends
You will find no more twists or bends
The dirt road has come to a stop
And now look above you to the very top
The gate of white and silver hope
Is it for you?—sorry kid, but nope
For this is the gate you choose so very long before
What did you expect kid---something more
The gate that was your heaven on earth,
Has turned into your hell of eternal birth

-----------------------------------------------------------

November 18, 2003

I don't want to give away my youth,
But I know I could live without it
I don't want to give away my beauty,
But I know I could live without it
I don't want to give away my faith,
But I know I could live without it,

I don't want to give away my past,
But I know I could live without it,
I don't want to give away my comfort,
But I know I could live without it
I don't want to give away my integrity,
But I know I could live without it

So why do I want to give away my heart,
When I know I could not live without it.

-------------------------------------------------------

It is so strange to look back on your past and how you used to feel about the world from a different perspective.

There are quite a few more entries, if anyone is interested in reading them, I will post them.

I was trying to explain my frustration to my mom, but she didn't quite get it. She was driving me home from the San Francisco airport after an unplanned trip home. It was the beginning of my Spring break (this was last Friday in fact). I had been planning to stay in Texas for a few days and then go on a road trip with one of my good girlfriends, but at the last minute I freaked out and decided I needed to come home. I needed to get away. From Texas. From my college friends. From my environment. From everything. I needed to go back home. To the Bay Area. To myself. To the place where I was born and raised. To the place where I developed into the person that I am today. I was sitting in the car with my mom. I had told her a few days before that I needed to come home and relax. She wasn't quite sure what my deal was, she figured I was just being dramatic. I started trying to explain to her my frustration about everything in my life up to this point, when I finally articulated the conclusion that had been subconsciously forming in the back of my head for the past few weeks: "I should have been born a man."

When I said this to my mom she didn't respond. She just listened, since she knew that there was no way I was going to say something so radical without fully explaining it to her. (She knows me well enough to know that I never leave anyone hanging when it comes to my opinion.) For myself it was the first time I had ever really put into words what I had felt my entire life. I elaborated to my mom, "I am not a girl. Yes, I look like a female. But my exterior is deceptive to who I really am. I am far too stubborn and dominant to ever be labeled feminine. If you don't take into account my exterior appearance and presence, there is absolutely nothing about my personality that is feminine."

At that point my mom began to see my argument a little more clearly. She knew that I had been born smart and manipulative. I was always one step ahead of my peers, and sometimes even my elders and my parents. I had an outgoing and dominant personality from day one. That would be fine and dandy as it is, but in this society such personality traits aren't often paraded as being desirable for females. Females are traditionally suppose to be dainty and agreeable. They are meant to be seen, not heard. They are meant to be submissive and supported by men. Well me... lets just say I am not very dainty or agreeable. I am not delicate. And believe me you hear me just as much as you see me... if not more. In many cultures, females are nothing without a man to take care of them. They are worthless unless they are fulfilling their role serving a man's ego, desires, and needs. I fall short of all of these requirements for females. I have never "needed" a man to take care of me (with the exception of maybe my father). Not a limb in my body has ever so much as fathomed the idea of serving a man's ego, desires, and needs over my own... In fact my dominance probably has caused more harm to the male ego than it has done to boost it.

I knew that this is how I am and have always been, but it wasn't until recently that it began to bug me. I have a very good friend who is much, much different than I am. In many ways, she is everything I am not. She is agreeable, sweet, submissive, cute and quiet. She is more often seen then heard. She laughs at all the right times and strokes the male ego in all the right ways. She doesn't like talking about "serious stuff." And when I begin to discuss "serious" topics... like let's say the news or major global issues... she sits in silence, only to open her mouth maybe once or twice to ask if we can talk about something else. It is so completely frustrating to me because I see how guy after guy goes after this girl. I sit there in absolute disbelief when it happens. This girl is as dull as a blank piece of paper. Besides the fact that she obviously is a cute girl, her personality is so flat and dry it is impossible to even begin to fathom how one can find her intriguing enough to hold a conversation with her of substance for more than a minute. I once overheard a guy who she knows fairly well trying to compliment her... he started listing her qualities in an attempt to flatter her... these were the highlights: beautiful, fun, cute, attractive, beautiful, fun, cute, hot. Yet it is this dual quality (how cute/hot/beautiful/attractive she is combined with her "fun"ness) in her that insures that she will someday be the perfect, ideal trophy housewife. She is everything that society tells females to be. AND I ABSOLUTELY HATE IT. I can't say I don’t like this girl, she is one of my closest friends in college. But then again, how can you not enjoy the company of someone so soft, sweet, and agreeable? It's impossible to hate her because she does nothing to be hated. At most, she cries a lot. But I don't know if that is a quality you can really hate a person for... I would label it more of a reason to be generally annoyed with her than a reason to hate her. Being around her for too long though kills a part of me. When we have conversations I feel like I am hitting myself in the face with a brick. We can only talk about the same topic so many times... mundane gossip about our girlfriends lives, boys, clothing, boys, shoes, boys.... It drives me crazy. This is the intellectual depth that I am accustomed to exploring with many of the females I have encountered in my life. Especially in Texas. It kills every part of me. Every single part of me that wishes I was born a man wants to die as I live my life day by day engaging in the same boring conversation with my female friends about some stupid asshole or some stupid party or some stupid pair of shoes. I pity myself for I wish my intelligence wasn't being wasted by engaging in conversation with mindless Southern Barbie dolls who are waiting for their MRS to be handed to them by some cocky dick with an ego that is infinitely larger than what he's actually worth.

Ultimately what I struggle with is the fact that society wants me to be this girl, that society loves this girl, and that this is what is socially expected of me. If this is how females are meant to be, then--FUCK IT--I should have been born a man because god damn if anyone ever tries to make me be that girl. I refuse to waste my talents and my intelligence in such a way. I refuse to let my gender dictate to me that I should put on a happy face and play the role of the intellectually inferior, the sweetly submissive. I am not that person, nor will I ever be. I refuse to be. Call me a bitch, a whore, whatever you want. But I am not going to change who I am because men don't think it proper of me to act in such a way.

It's easy for me to say such things, but at the same time it ultimately pains me because I realize now that I will never be able to be as successful as I want because my sexuality is a barrier. A lot of modern feminists say that one should embrace their sexuality and be proud of it. I call that foolish bullshit. A woman who is confident and strong in her sexuality and self is labeled a whore and a bitch and socially condemned for it. (Whether or not a female actually is a whore or a bitch, she will be labeled this way simply if she exudes confidence that rivals/threatens a man's position and [is therefore] not appropriate for her gender). A woman who is sexually submissive and fits the female archetype is considered weak and inferior to her male counterpart. Because of this, I realize that I cannot win either way. I will never be able to be as great as I could be because I was born a woman. I will always have to struggle to properly balance how I play my gender card in a man's world.

Yes, I should have been born a man. But, lucky for me and unfortunately for them, I enjoy a good challenge. And even though society may be structured against me, I refuse to settle into a gender role that goes against my very being. I refuse to give up who I really am.

14 years ago my grandpa passed away today... he only knew me in my youth as an outgoing somewhat obnoxious child... but he always was extremely loving towards me anyways. his death had a strange impact on me. it was the first death i ever experienced. and every year i remember this day... exactly one month after my birthday... that my grandfather passed away. towards the end his skin developed a yellowish tint. he couldn't get out of bed to come to the dinner table anymore. he was dying of colon cancer. i remember sitting next to his bed and watching tv with him. i didn't talk to him, just sat there. i wanted him to know i cared but at such a young age it was hard for me to articulate my feelings into words. i came from a family that was not used to expressing emotions or love. so, instead of just coming out and saying how i felt as i realized the cancer would steal him away from me forever, i just sat there next to him hoping that my presence would indicate that i understood what was happening and that I was scared to lose him. i was only 8.

i look back now and remember my grandfather fondly. but i always wonder, what if he hadn't passed away when I was so young? what if he had been around to see me get my first communion, go through my middle school years, graduate from high school, and enroll in college? would he be proud of who i have become? would he still show me the same love that he showed that little spunky 8-year-old who had a tendency to be reckless and mischievous? when I think about the person I have become and the things I value in my day-to-date life, I realize that there are many aspects of my personality that have developed with time that I am glad my grandfather never knew. i look at decisions i've made now and realize how shameful it would be for me if I ever had to go to my grandfather and tell him that they were things I had done and they were a part of who I have become.

sometimes i wish i evaluated my day-to-day actions on a "what would grandpa think?" scale. my behavior would be much different if i constantly thought about what the opinion of someone i admire and respect deeply would be of the not-so-great things I sometimes tend to do. there are things i value. good things. there are things i like about myself. i am open-minded and have a compassionate outlook towards humanity. i like that. but that compassionate outlook doesn't necessarily affect my day-to-day actions. as a college student, what i value on a day-to-day basis can be just as shallow as any of my peers. i care a lot about my physical appearance... maybe a little too much. on weekends, i want to drink and party and have fun with my friends. the point of my day-to-day life is to maximize the amount of time i spend devoted to having a good time and minimize the amount of time i spend on unpleasant activities (like studying and doing homework). i know what i value and how i see the world. i am the most vocal advocate of what i believe, but at the end of the day I feel like I have yet to really transcend that barrier between how i view the world and how i act in it. i suppose i am still in college and that right now i need to focus on being a college student and finishing my degree, but at the same time i don't want to let myself off too easy. sometimes it is hard to find a balance between the righteous person i want to be and the desire to indulge myself in the pleasures of life that come with being youthful and in college.

i understand that i live in a world where wealth and power makes a difference. to make a wide-scale different in this world it is almost necessary to have both of those things. if not, you will struggle to achieve any effective change and you will constantly wonder if your efforts are in vain. i intend to become a lawyer, i think the knowledge i will obtain in law school, backed by the legal power and authority such an occupation retains, will help me be able to do something greater with my life. but, i would be lying if i said the potential wealth and respect involved in a legal career is not a bit appealing. however, my goal is to use that legal education to have positive impacts on the lives of others. i know the path i have set myself up for, i just hope that, when all is said and done i will remember who i am and what i value when it comes down to it all. i hope i don't look back in 20 years and fear having to confront myself with the question, "what would grandpa think?" i hope that, in the future, i won't even have to ask such a question because i will already know that with whatever I am doing in my life, my grandfather would, without a doubt, be extremely proud of what i had accomplished for the good and who i had become.

i will never understand those who live their life preaching
they say one thing
they preach one thing
they claim to believe one thing
but they do the other thing

if you say you believe in something
dont just say it
do it

yes, you are human
yes, you are flawed
but where is the sense in preaching if you cannot live up to what you say

swallow your words
swallow your God-justified prejudice

life is short
what is the point of trying to make others live the way you want them to
for each his own
live the life you want to live and quit condemning those who disagree with you

in the end
none of us know what happens
time will teach us the only truth

what we know of this world
what we can perceive of this world
is limited by the bounds of our perceptions

to claim we know it all
to believe that we have the answers
is to show our arrogance
our ignorance

if there is one thing i know
it is that i know nothing
we all know nothing

the only advice we can give is to humble ourselves
for the world we live in
is greater than our simple minds will ever comprehend

The war on drugs is a complete and utter failure. It has grossly failed every segment of our society. Along it's destructive path it has brought down our entire criminal justice system and soiled our communities. Day in and day out, Courtroom 302 of the Chicago courthouse sees the same drug offenders rotate in and out of its walls, floating their way in and out of the penitentiary system (Bogira). Tulia, a small town in Texas, continues to be haunted with the scars of a drug scandal caused by a legal system that focuses too much on advocating a tough-on-drugs hype and not enough on the ethical conduct of its eager police force (Blackslee). Even Walter Prentice, a criminal defense lawyer from Austin, often vocally expresses his frustration about the countless number of criminal cases for minor drug possession (as little as .2 grams of crack-cocaine) that he has encountered. Accounts of these types are by no means a rarity, they are regular and frequent in number, and they all have one thing in common: the war on drugs. The evidence here speaks clearly for itself: The failure of the war on drugs and the impact of that failure is more than just evident, it is obtrusively obvious.

Perhaps drugs in themselves are inherently dirty, but without a doubt the stigma that society has attached to them has only contributed to this vice. Either way, there is no denying that we live in a society where the filth of drugs permeates everyone that comes into contact with them—be it cops, citizens, or criminals. Anything that is sold or purchased on the black market can only leave a person branded dirty, a criminal in the eyes of the law. Society has made sure that everything drugs touch turns to dirt. Society has targeted the drug trade as an evil that ought to be destroyed. They have waged a war destined to be lost from its launch, a war aimed not at a nation or a people, but on the distribution and use of natural and chemical substances. This is a war cannot and will not be won.

Intimately tied to the drug market are great financial stakes. Where financial gain and loss is possible, social ills follow, including violence, greed, and corruption. Drugs create a market of high profits fueled by high addiction and high demand. Because of this, drugs are widespread in our society, infiltrating our every neighborhood, from the urban ghettos, to the white suburbs, to the smallest of towns. The legality of drugs aside does not change the fact that narcotics are in high social demand. Society, however, has chosen to reject this demand for narcotics and label it criminal. Because of this, "arrests for drug abuse violations represent more than 1.5 million per year… in the nation's major urban area, drug arrests have become the single most dominant police activity" (Neubauer 92). And so is the reality of the modern war on drugs, a hopeless failure in public policy.

The war on drugs agenda has reinvented how our society functions on all levels. It has become the primary focus of our law enforcement—cops, courts, and corrections it has targeted the poor and the minorities, the marginalized members of society. It had created a sense of urgency and danger. It has instilled fear in citizens and urged them to seek politicians who talk a tough game against crime that is ultimately nothing but a facade. It has sucked up our tax dollars and over-crowded our prisons. It has filled our court dockets and legal offices. Yet, with all the things it had done, one thing it has never come close to doing is succeeding. Today's drug "problem" will continue to exist so long as society continues to criminalize drug use and distribution, so long as society continues to blacklist those who are actors within the drug market.

The more I have learned about the war on drugs the more I must advocate a fundamental change in its performance and its driving philosophy. Drug policy in this country should be entirely reinvented, decriminalizing the use and distribution of drugs, wiping clean records of those who have drug offenses, and removing drug offenders from our already over-crowded jails. By decriminalizing drugs and regulating them on the open market, the transaction of drugs will become that much cleaner. Less dirty violence will be associated with a regulated drug market where citizens can access drugs without having to resort to drastic measures. My personal sentiment towards drugs, can be echoed in the words of Sam Adam, a defense attorney from Chicago: "The drug thing is so much bullshit. It's nothing but a numbers game. It's a colossal waste of energy, money, and time. It's electing politicians, but it's stopping nothing. Narcotics court is a joke… Over and over violent crime is taking place—and more than half of the police department is running around trying to arrest somebody on a drug case"

it was the type of day when the smoke lingers
a cool breeze
autumn
wet leaves

"how cruel it seems
that the desiring creature is put on this earth
without a counterpart"

a shame really
that the one desire to be understood
to be recognized
by the communal being
could never be satiated

what is a memory but an idealized misrepresentation
distortions of an expired present
longing--nay--pretending
it's what we do

swirls of smoke dance in the chilled air
in this moment only
is it clear
but it, too, will pass

oh life
how will you fool me next?

 

on command
the mask lights up
smile laugh scream cry

how many times will she shine
before given an award?
role to role to role
a daily theatrical rendezvous
a classic production--bravo!

lost... yet restrained 
the actress ponders
the final curtain call?

used to have dreams
she remains awakened
cannot escape
guilt strings her here
obligation
finance
social conception

replaceable blurs
discovering her
a need, an escape
the tie to be burnt
they are other people, nothing more
her tie to them--nothing more

she will float away
you will remain grounded

there is
a dueling reality
longing for home sweet home
she disappears into the earth

the simple
the complex--oh, the perplex
need to feel life
freedom from what is
you will know of her no more

she is
her against you
her against the world