I love padding down the tiled hallway from the garage to the kitchen and the cool feel of the linoleum against my bare feet.  The smell of my mother's flowers drifting through the hallways with the summer breeze.  My regal cats, who knew the most comfortable spots for a nap and who, I have always suspected, secretly owned the place.  The hum of the degreaser [is that what it's called? The thing above the stove?] as my grandmother cooked up our delicious Sichuanese cuisine. Waking up in the mornings with the sunlight streaming into the room.  Getting out of bed and feeling my toes sink into the thick carpet.  The sound of the heat coming in through the vents in the winter time.  Sitting outside wrapped in a blanket, stargazing and gossiping and giggling with my best friends.

The house, and all of my experiences within, represent to me my youth - which is funny, perhaps, considering that we only moved to this house in seventh grade.  But these are my roots.  Despite being born in China and my subsequent unseverable ties, despite my almost two years in Spain that changed my life completely, despite my constant attempts to escape the small town around, and despite all the other houses that I have called home, this house is my beginning.  I have cried and laughed and sulked and dreamed here.  It knows me and my secrets, and I can't help but feel that no one can know and love it as I do, because it has become for me the very ideal of home.

------

On the long bus ride from Boston to New York, Lorrayne [see photo from Icruise] was saying how going home would be really good for her.  Going back to her comfort zone would, as she said, "ground" her.

After the nearly ten hours of travel from Boston to Princeton, NJ, the realization of all the work I had to do, and my missing of Tufts which began almost immediately, there was a moment when I wondered why I came home at all.  The inevitable outcome of idealizing something or someone, after all, is that the real thing never quite lives up.  The house is quieter and emptier than I remember: my grandmother  went back to China; my beloved cats are gone; my best friends are away at school; even my mother's flowers have decreased in number.

But even the changes in the house are forgotten and forgiven; nostalgia does funny things to us.  Besides, I too, needed to come back to my roots, if only for a weekend, to become grounded again.

I remember back when I was much younger, I found myself inexplicably engaged by a made-for-TV movie on Lifetime.  I am not sure exactly how old I was at the time, but I had just started expanding my media consumption horizon beyond TGIF, SNICK, Cubs games on WGN, and of course The Real World, so I was relatively new to basic and extended basic cable channels.

And being unfamiliar with the target demographic of Lifetime, I allowed myself to get wrapped up in the story of a family having a hard time coping with the loss of their teen-aged daughter without even a twinge of embarrassment or guilt.  This is, until a network promo informed me I was watching "Lifetime.  Television for Women."  I quickly shut off the TV, made sure there where no one had witnessed this emasculation and slowly backpedaled out of the room with a mortified look on my face.  Of course, hindsight being 20/20, I should have been suspicious when all the commercials were for osteoporosis treatments and hormone replacement therapy.

Thus, it should come as no surprise that anyone who spends any amount of time watching ESPN will see their fair share of erectile dysfunction ads, which have gotten pretty inane lately.  Really, what's with the old people in the side-by-side bathtubs in those Cialis commericals?

As far as a metaphor for a sexually satisfied couple or some sort of symbol for male virility, I think they could do a little better showing two people holding hands from the comfort of their own claw-foot tub.  Then are the Viagra commercials, that seem to imply that taking their drug will not only help out in the bedroom, but may result in an increased desire to salsa dance and sit out by the fire and play guitar.

But the funniest thing about the ads, in my opinion, is the part of the disclaimer at the end that informs the viewer that these types of medications do not protect against sexually transmitted diseases.  See, I can understand a similar warning found in commercials for all the birth control solutions on the market today.  It's a form of contraception and actually does reduce the risk of pregnancy, so I guess it is not outside the realm for some people may think it also reduced the risk STDs, I guess.

Just so we are clear, I think you would be a fool to assume that as long as you are on the pill you can raw dog a bunch of dudes without any consequence whatsoever, but I don't think it is an astronomical reach to draw this conclusion.

But boner pills?  Really?  Is it actually necessary to point out that a pill that gets your dick hard offers no protection against any of the risks associated with using said dick?  Has anybody ever confused a prescription treatment for erectile dysfunction with a rubber or the choice to abstain from sex altogether?

The real frightening thing is that disclaimers like this are probably required for the same reason they have those warnings about wire fraud schemes all over craigslist:  there are enough people out there that, without these types of caveats, would be putting themselves at increased risk of identy theft and full blown AIDS without even thinking twice.

And THEN to top all THAT bullshit off, Dior a house I really liked for 2007/2008, wants to put this mess out:

Look at the heel closely. Am I the only one having a 'WTF?' moment?

Not to mention the the hairstyles that were taken and bastardized.

quoted from AllWomensTalk.com

When I first heard the theme “Tribal Chic”, I was expecting to see a lot of animal prints and wildly sexy clothes. Instead, John Galliano paraded dresses with a cinched waist and sheer skirts. The same thing can be seen at the evening gown collection, only they’re longer. Python jackets and spotty animal prints were also present.--Sese

Because you know, all things "tribal" (that's code for African) being an approximation of leopard skins and savage 'natives' exuding raw untamed sexuality...

Seeing a traditional African symbol under the heel of a ridiculously overpriced and frivolus consumer product with a brand name stamp makes me think that this has to be some kind of covert social commentary. And then there’s the underfed fashion model vs. curvy, fertile womanly body angle. Maybe Galliano is cooler than I thought.--shoelala

How about not. Because you see they can have the pink corset dresses with the cowry shells, the sacred fertility statues under the heels, and the Zulu inspired headdresses, but they can't put more than 2 models of color on the runway?

Galliano took a decidedly subdued approach to the so-up-his-alley motif. “It’s a sideward glance, an abstraction of Africa,” he said before his show. “It’s never, never literal.”--wwd.com

I'm too goddamn thru.

Barack Obama: Well I am surprised that -- you know, we've been seeing some pretty over the top attacks coming out of the McCain campaign over the last several days -- that he wasn't willing to say it to my face.

Tom Vilsack: If John McCain were so concerned about things like Mr. Ayers, why didn't he just simply turn to Barack Obama and directly confront him?

Joe Biden: In my neighborhood, when you've got something to say to a guy, you look him in the eye and you say it to him.

the real world strategy; bait mccain and wait for the inevitable explosion that gets dude kicked out of the house.

Bree, mad Egyptian cutie, was on Miss Rap Supreme on Vh1 back around May. Now as I remember, her flow was cool, but she got eliminated because she didn't remember parts of her verses. I have no idea if the episodes are still up on Vh1.com...but the show was pretty good, no not the crap "reality tv" drama aspect. Half of the cast was lez (Bree included) or bi...and OUT...and the lack of homophobia, unlike on Ms. Tila Tequila's show, was refreshing. I think one of my favorite episodes is where they performed at a gay bar. They ripped it and it was hilarious.

I really hope this is can be a new era in that female artists (from any genre) can be OUT. The artists on Miss Rap Supreme hid nothing. At the same time, it was simply one aspect of who they were as a whole. They were out, but they didn't let that define them. We need more of that.

I'mma be real and say that my deeper interest all of a sudden has to do with Studs/Butches/tomboi-sh women being well represented amongst female emcees. There I said it. The genre is a source of eye candy. Which is not to say that I don't appreciate the music, you can be cute as hell, but a weak flow is a weak flow. And lets not get all, "But what about Lil Kim, et al.?" I love them too...they just don't press certain buttons with me, if you know what I mean.

This sounds really shallow, but I liken it to my looking for a replacement for all the boy bands I lusted and crazed after in high school (in middle school you couldn't tell me that Lil Fizz from B2K and me were not getting married one day!).

For those hiphop heads who thought I was about to write some profound musings on the state of women in hiphop...here's a recent 'Where are the women in hip-hop' post.

and NOT get called a lez, no questions asked.
The aesthetic has changed, and thus if you don't go along with the new aesthetic, you're queer (pun intended). Of course in Da Brat's case, despite being so far in the closet I don't see how she finds her way out every morning, the lezzy-ness in obvious no matter what she wears.
Da Brat, if I had to begin naming, was one my favorite female hiphop artists. I could spend hours listening to her old stuff and watching the vids on youtube. She was also the first female rapper to go platinum in 2000. Which is sad though...Hiphop has been around for almost 30 years now, and it took until 8 years ago?
My other fav, Lauryn Hill, also broke a record in the industry, by being named the first Black female artist to get album of the year at the Grammys (1999). It's funny because I didn't pay attention to her when she was out...I as too far gone with the new emergence of rap from artists in Houston and New Orleans. Currently the likely hood of her coming out with a new album seems slim, at best. Darn it. I'm always late.

Tonight on MTV's Making the Band 4, Season 3!!!

Season three

At the live finale of the second season of Making the Band 4, Diddy announced that the subsequent season would feature Danity Kane, Day26, and Donnie Klang on a U.S. Tour, the Making the Band Tour. On August 12th there was a 1 hour special that aired on MTV called "Making The Band's Greatest Hits." The special was hosted by Aubrey from Danity Kane, Donnie Klang and Robert from Day26, looking back on past events throughout the seasons of Making the Band 3 and 4. The new season premiered on August 19, 2008 on MTV.^[1]

1. Austin Powers 1, 2, 3...however many there are now - I just can't get into them. I actually don't tell many people this because 1-the jokes are sort of old at this point that it doesn't come up in conversation like it used to, and 2-people really thought it was legitimately funny (really, everyone?) and don't understand why I don't. I vividly remember sitting on a bus headed to my middle school ski trip with my classmates while the first Austin Powers movie was playing, and I was baffled that everyone was laughing. Don't get me wrong, I love a good silly, slapstick comedy (hey, Robin Hood: Men in Tights), but I just cannot handle these. I sort of don't want to even include a photo but (ugh) I guess I will...

[Yikes]

And I wish I liked the damn movies because everybody else seems to, and then I could do all movie quotes along with them.

2. MTV - Except for The Hills, which is fake, but nevertheless my own form of crack addiction (t.v. show addiction is much healthier...try it for a change, Amy Winehouse), most MTV shows today are just awful. A Shot at Love with Tela Tequila? Paris Hilton's My New BFF? My Super Sweet Sixteen? NEXT? Sex With Mom and Dad (yes, it's a real show where young girls tell their parents they're having sex and they all embark on sex-related, ice-breaker games, and mom inevitably acts like a prostitute to appear young, hip and relate-able, and the dad looks murderous, especially when they bring in the boyfriend)?

WE GET IT. Sex sells. But do we really want to expose teenagers to this behavior every second of every day? I remember the good old days when MTV actually was Music Television and when The Real World wasn't a porno. I wish it would return because then I would like it again.

3. Lindsay Lohan's "special friend" Samantha Ronson - I don't care if Lindsay likes girls or boys or farm animals for that matter. I just dislike Samantha because of the hat,

 the hair,

 the annoying way she poses,

and the fact that she's so adverse to showering. Ever. And I so wish I liked her because it seems like she's always being photographed. Sigh.

**photos from popdish.com, evilbeetgossip.com

Listening to music from high school is grand tonic for my tired heart. I spent a morning last week listening to "When I Woke" and set myself to the past.

Deer Valley, a YMCA family camp, and hearing the album for the first time. It was exotic and clearly something all the college-kid counselors had. I had to have it, too.

Rusted Root playing to a packed audience of Johnny Hop students: knowing I had been in on the secret for a good seven years before my peers clued in. Also, Ben desperately wanting to hook up with Liz Berlin, who, I assured him, was married, and her thanking him for his phone number by calling him "so sweet."

Carpooling to the PMEA honors band practices with four boys from my band: Nate, Zach, Joe and Joe. Zach and I were in the front seat, after rehearsal, singing along to every song. With abandon. Halfway through the CD, he turned to me and asked, "Do you actually know any of these words?" I assured him I did not either, and we continued to sing.

Watching Wilco at the Pittsburgh Arts Festival for free, standing but feet away from Michael Glabicki.

Always the girl who danced with her arms in a time when no one else did: Evan Mayo-Wilson watching me dance to "Ecstasy" at Homecoming in ninth grade and saying that he could always find me in a crowd because I was the only one with my arms in the air. Oh, how I was in love with Justin then and cringed when my date asked me, "Do you think it would be a bad idea for us to go out?"

Seeing Rusted Root open for Jewel with Kelly at the Starlake amphitheater. The sound guy could have done a better job by using some good car speakers than he did with the amphitheater's sound system.

Years and years of putting "Food and Creative Love" on every mix tape I made: for myself, for Eve, for Adam, for the man of the hour. I still believe that all I need is food and creative love.

Picked to live in Philadelphia to be one-dimensional, contrived, and decidedly uninteresting. Why, MTV why? What happened to the Julie's, the Pedro's, the Beth's, the Irene's of the world? I'll even take a Puck at this point. Average, mildly attractive people of varying ages is INTERESTING, why can't anyone SEE that anymore! This is my second pop culture rant, which means we're in a crisis. And we were already in a crisis before that, so the crisis is in a state of crisis.

I'm sure I'm not the only person who went through the "I want to be on the Real World" phase. When I was 16, I made up my mind I would audition as soon as age permitted. I was going to be the...loveable Christian black girl who always had good advice and could diffuse a volatile situation. In reality I proabably would've been the black, recluse, Christian bitch who would go off on someone near the end of the show and call them a "cocksucker." And then I would be renamed the black, recluse, Christian hypocrite bitch. So thank God that dream didn't come to fruition. The only entertaining thing is the fact that out of all the Vanderbilt students, they found the Southern, traditonal, good ol' boy. And was proud of it, slappin' the title on himself whenever he could. There's a Vanderbilt student somewhere right now, weeping into his carmel macchiato.

But alas, the rest of the show is gen X drivel. They meet, they're being polite, though there's no true indication that they have any intentions of "getting real," but we'll settle for getting hedonistic, since in ratings terms, they're about the same. Last one in the hot tub without an alcoholic beverage has to miss watching two heterosexual women kiss!! Two black people, some jocks, a flirt/tease, the seeming sane person. And a "gay." This time, though, there's two... but watch out! Cuz he doesn't "act" gay. Ohhh the plot twists and turns. Now that I'm the same age or older than some of these cast members, the show has dwindled to irrelevance. What irony! Silly of me to think MTV would cater to anyone other than adolescents who don't have a friggin clue about their identities.

Speaking of alcohol and hot tubs, I sense that the American man is fatigued. The spirits of the 20-something, 30-something, single American male are weighed down heavily-- and what's worse, he has no idea why. Burning the candle at both ends, trying to win a prize, achieve a goal in the middle of a desert with a tropical backdrop, wondering why he is thirsty. It makes me sad to watch. Everyone telling him what to want and how and when, and that something is wrong if he doesn't. Shoving sex and success in his throat instead of urging him to be better.

ITS TRUE, THE 21ST SEASON OF MTV'S THE REAL WORLD HAS ALREADY STARTED FILMING IN RED HOOK BROOKLYN. RED HOOK?? WHY NOT FLATBUSH OR THE THE STUY, YOU KNOW, TO MAKE IT INTERESTING. IMAGINE WHAT A LITTLE WHITE GIRL FROM IDAHO WOULD DO WHEN CONFRONTED BY A DREAD OR PROJECT HOOD RAT, LOL.

THE CAST IS CURRENTLY RESIDING AT PIER 41 AT VAN DYKE STREET IN RED HOOK, AINT SHIT OVER THERE BUT WATER AND FACTORIES. THIS THE REAL WORLD'S THIRD TIME IN NEW YORK, FIRST TIME IN THE HOOD! THE SEASON WILL AIR IN THE EARLY PART OF 2009, MOST LIKELY JANUARY, LETS SEE HOW THIS ONE TURNS OUT.

But today in my faculty seminar/freshman advising class (Intro to Afro-Brasilian Culture: Capoeira to Camdomble), my professor, Chip Gidney put the issue in black and white words that made ignoring things impossible.  "Our country," he said, "is going into another Great Depression."

I remember hearing those words and sitting up straighter; was he serious? Had things really gotten that much worse? How had I possibly remained ignorant of the whole situation?

But then I thought about it and I realized that my ignorance was, unfortunately, not that odd.  I mean, Tufts, and college in general, is so far removed from the real world.  We, especially freshmen, spend most of our time on campus in already paid for rooms with unlimited meal plans; we don't have to worry about paying rent or buying food.  Other concerns such as getting a job or buying a car are also remote.  If I didn't read the news (as, I'm ashamed to admit, I have been fairly negligent about since coming to Tufts), it would be too easy to ignore the financial crisis.

That's something that needs to change.  The Tufts bubble might hold up a little longer for some people, but pretty soon, we're all going to feel it.  And I, personally, want to be informed.  Thus I've spent my entire time in the library tonight reading the back story on the NYT and Economist.  OK, so I'm procrastinating, and ok,  maybe my happy little ignorance-is-bliss bubble has been burst, but this is definitely another form of education.  I've always hated the idea of the ivory tower, and yet I've been shutting myself in it.

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

So, resolution of the day:

I need to stop using Tufts and homework (especially EPIIC reading) as an excuse for not keeping up on current affairs or reading outside of assigned reading.

1. Turner Classic Movies will be hosting a 24-hour Paul Newman marathon Oct. 12.

2. Life on the road must be awesome ... unless your tour bus goes missing.

3. Are you an annoying, physically stunning activist who enjoys, say, jetskis? Then apply for the 22nd season of The Real World.

4. I love never-ending "farewell" tours aging musicians like to throw again and again. Phish is the latest act to do this.

5. We all know Tina Fey is awesome. This is probably why she is in talks for a book deal that could rake in $6 million.

Truthfully, I don't know how I'd answer this question.  But I think it's one, in the Christian life, we all need to ask and answer.  Let's get back to that in a minute...

Last week, I spent some time contemplating the difference between behavior (external, momentary) and character (internal, enduring).  You may want to read my thoughts from last week's post before continuing by clicking here.  Since our family is making an effort to focus on godly character, this contrast has been rolling around in my noggin for some time.

What has that got to do with extravagant gifts and medals of valor?

Lately, I have been prayerfully considering friends and family who are struggling in substantial ways.  As I see those I care about doing battle against life's torrents, I can't help but notice a pattern regarding the human character in stressful situations.  During difficult times, we tend to hunger for immediate growth in character to help buffer the friction caused by pain.   It is evident in our prayers - "Lord give me patience, endurance, faith, courage, etc."  And it is evident in our frustrations.  For we are most easily brought to anxiety and fear in the places where our character is insufficient.  In short, we tend to wish for godly character to be given as a gift.  We sometimes expect that it will magically show up at a critical moment or be added to our box of virtues overnight.  Often times, we are discouraged when the mystical illusion fizzles.  And we can become exasperated when the response to our prayers is more of the same - more struggle, more heartache, more need.

The predictability of this pattern (in my own experiences and in others) leads me to believe that a reasonable explanation must be within reach.  Could it be that God intends to use the struggles we encounter to build our character?  Furthermore, could it be that character is built, not just by pleading for it's appearance, but by exposure to a series of opportunities which call for it?  Could it be that character develops when we do the hard work of demonstrating it even though our lack of character tempts us otherwise?  Could it be that godly character is merited like a badge instead of granted like a lifeline?

I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted just entertaining this notion.  The thought of waging war to grow my character is demotivating to say the least.  Life's hard enough in the day-to-day.  But the truth is: I don't have to pursue a battle.  Hard times will come to me, whether I get my game face on or not.  Additionally, God has invested a high price in seeing my life transformed and He loves me too much to let me miss out on the blessing of good character.

Hence, my question:  Would you rather have an expensive gift you didn't deserve or a medal of honor you earned?  Your answer could largely  determine your response to God's "opportunities."  Unfortunately, if you recognize what hangs in the balance, there is only one answer worth choosing.

Suit up, my friends, the battle's on!

1. The Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins. Seeing as how it's the school year again, my reading brain has returned to a state of near collapse. To counter this effect I am rereading The Great Gatsby, which is beautiful but does not force me inexorably toward the end, because I already know the end, and The Hunger Games. Young adult dystopias are becoming quite a favorite around the house, here. The Last Book in the Universe, How I Live Now, and now The Hunger Games. It's a fast-paced, easy-to-read, terrifying vision of exploitation of the poor and totalitarianism. I recommend it highly.

2. Freddy the fern. Jeff and I were at an A&P buying things that Trader Joe's doesn't have. I saw Freddy and just had to have him. He's happy now, sitting next to Phil (the philodendron).

3. Rusted Root, Weezer and Rufus Wainwright. It's like I'm listening to my bear blanket from when I was a kid. Comforting. Warm. Broken in.

4. Homegrown tomatoes, which will become Sopa de Azteca tonight. Or, my own bastardized version of it based on my memory of eating it at Picante and looking at their menu on the internet. We've also got corn, beans, and avocado waiting. Everything is better with avocado.

5. Lady Grey tea. With sugar and milk.