HBCU vs BYU

For those of you who don't know, and HBCU is a historically Black College or University.  Some popular ones you might have heard of are Spelman and Morehouse.  I am currently attending a much smaller HBCU to get a 2nd bachelor's degree in Chemistry.  Seeing as how my last classroom experience was at BYU, I've noticed quite a few differences in comparison.

First, there's a stripper in my calculus class.  She's not just any stripper.  She swears that our calculus teacher used to frequent her place of employment and when asked if she thinks he recognized her she replied, "Not with my clothes on!"  That's not a common occurence at a private school like BYU.  You get more return missionaries than strippers, really.  It's refreshing.

Second, at BYU we often times started class with a prayer and on the odd occasion sang a hymn.  At the HBCU I attend I hear a bit more colorful language than you would find in a prayer.  My chemistry teacher curses at least once a class, and you know what?  No one is surprised really--just me.  I try not to giggle, look around and say, "Oooooo, he just said a bad word!"

Going to a private school has made me a prude but now that I'm on the other end of the spectrum I seem to be enjoying myself.  One of the remarkable things about attending such a school is that I get to see people that look like me and make me laugh (even if they are swearing).  I am appreciating Black culture more and more.  Now I don't feel so bad when I'm late because people here are in my time zone, CPT (Colored People Time), or in other words at least half an hour late.  Combine CPT with being in the South and I count myself lucky that my teachers even show up!  I think this time zone ends when you step off campus, though. 

I also love being surronded by intelligent and articulate people.  I think society paints a picture for us of various ethnic groups and my favorite thing is seeing real live people break that mold.  I'm glad I get to see it often on campus and hope to be able to make a contribution to whichever community I belong to like many of instructors and students here have.

The Gateway to the West

I went to St. Louis for the wedding of a good friend and I got to stay with my beautiful cousin who lives in a wonderfully chic area of town and to tell the truth, I fell in love with St. Louis!  In retrospect, I think I just really enjoyed being with family and friends whom I haven't seen in ages.  However, on behalf of St. Louis, I would have to say that this city was an excellent backdrop for such festivities.

My cousin lives a block away from a little strip in St. Louis that has wonderful restaurants, shops and boutiques.  I enjoyed strolling down Washington Avenue and wandering into its charming nooks and crannys.  The wedding itself took place on 9/11, which I initially had some reservations about, but it turned out to be such a beautiful day.  The wedding was held outdoors at a vineyard on an open terrace and my girlfriend was the picture perfect bride.  She was literally glowing.  I have no idea what makes them glow like that!  My guess is MAC make-up, but I digress.

The day after the wedding we all went galavanting around St. Louis to see the sights.   We saw the St. Louis arch, the Eads bridge and went to the City Museum.  My cousin said the City Museum was unlike any other and to wear jeans and comfortable clothing.  I soon found out why.  The City Museum is a huge jungle jim.  There were slides, caves, tunnels and all sorts of adventures for both adults and children.  I went on this eight story slide that was shaped like the Guggenheim Museum in New York City.  Needless to say, I couldn't walk a straight line afterwards but thankfully, no one issued me a breathalyzer.  Then I went in some open air tunnels that were outdoors.  The only thing separating me from a drop that would at least severely injure me was some iron grating that I was crawling through on my hands and knees.  I almost died.  It was awesome!  I felt like I could see the entire city from up there (while I was praying really hard for the laws of physics to hold for just another minute).

I left for home the next day banged up and bruised from running around the city museum but glad that for a minute I felt like a kid again.  Two thumbs up for St. Louis.

33

Apparently 33 is an amazing number.  I had no idea that this number was special, until my birthday came and I actually turned 33 years old.  This revelation came to me via an old roommate in Maui that I revere and adore for her life experience.  I called her right before my birthday and told her how old I was gonna be, to which she replied in a very animated voice "That is best age ever!  You should be so excited!"  I rarely get that kind of response when I tell people my age.  Mostly people just nod their heads in somber silence as if already listening to my eulogy.  My Maui friend, however, seemed so darn excited about the number 33 that I decided to do some hard core research on the number 33.  Enter stage left, GOOGLE.

Turns out, 33 is the most influential of all numbers.  It combines 11, the most intuitive of all numbers and 22, the most powerful of all numbers.  Now listen, I don't really ascribe to tenets of numerology, whatever they may be, but I thought this little piece of information was motivating and I am rarely one to shun motivation.  "When expressed to the fullest, the 33 lacks all personal ambition, and instead focuses its considerable abilities toward the spiritual uplifting of mankind . . .This is shown in its determination to seek understanding and wisdom."  Well, I think it's safe to say that I am no way near lacking personal ambition but I love the idea of seeking understanding and wisdom which leads to the spiritual uplifting of mankind.  So here's my personal goal for the year 33, it's the Age of Enlightenment. 

It's been a little over a year since I started this blog and titled it Year of the Dragon.  It was a year of exploration and personal struggle, a year of regrouping and redirection.  I have renamed my blog to reflect my goals for the year 33.  I'm starting with peace.  In the words of Eckhart, "There is no one who does not want peace."  So, I am going to do the things that bring me peace and maybe my peace will bring the world more peace.  Some of the best advice I've ever recieved came from my Acupressure teacher who said, "If you want to stop war in the world, first stop the war within yourself."  In other words, if I want more peace in the world, I must first create peace within me.  It may sound cheesy but I've got a plan and I'm going to work it!  This will be a year of years and hopefully, I'll find myself closer to God at the end of it (and He'll forgive me for the brief stint in numerology).

Getting Old

In this blog I will present the supporting evidence of my latest hypothesis, which is I'm getting old.  Allow me to present exhibit A, incurring an injury while performing a seemingly harmless activity.  For example, I was doing handstands with my nephews up against a wall.  The next day I had what felt like a rotator cuff injury.  It hurt to raise my arm and change the radio station in the car.  To add insult to injury, literally, my nephews remained unfazed by previous day's contortionism.  The idea of getting injured probably never even occurred to them.  

Moving on to further proof, random lower back aches.  I never used to understand why people complained about back pain when getting out of a car.  I mean, you're just sitting there, right?  What could possibly be so traumatizing to your back while you're sitting for half an hour, listening to music?  Maybe it's the music.  The worst is waking up with a back ache.  I swear someone must have been doing yoga to me in my sleep.  One of these nights I'm going to just pretend to be asleep and catch the culprit red-handed!

Lastly, I hear myself complaining about music and I know I'm getting old.  I love to listen to anything I can dance to which is usually pop music or hip-hop/R&B.  I have become so disenchanted with hip-hop lately because I don't enjoy hearing about explicit sexual encounters on my way to the grocery store.  As I've aged, I think I've become a little more prudish when it comes to music.  I remember what a scandal "Push it" by Salt 'n Pepper created when I was in elementary school, but I loved it.  These days I just don't want to hear it, which is qualitative proof that I need to reserve my spot in a nursing home.  Just hand me a cane or walker and I'll commit myself because the last thing I need is to go around saying "I can't believe what the kids listen to these days!"  I feel like I have been forced into rock, easy listening and country music.  It's a tragic tale, really.

It's cold in here. . .  What time is it?

North Carolina, First in Flight

Since I was whining about Maui in my last post, allow me to extol the virtues of North Carolina for a brief moment. My North Carolina top five are as follows:

5) On the interstate islands separating lanes they plant bunches of beautiful flowers. Most of the time they are of one color and lately it has been yellow. So picture yourself driving on a bright and sunny day and your eyes are assaulted with a sea of brilliant yellow flowers on the side of the road. Given the right moment, day and time it is a stunning sight or at the very least a cheery one. This picture was taken as I was driving so it really doesn't do the flowers justice, but this is kinda what it looks like.

4) It is so green here. I realize that having lived in Utah for the longest time I am used to a different type of vegetation (albeit breathtaking in its own right), but I feel like the neighborhoods in this state are cut directly out of a forest. If humans were to suddenly disappear in North Carolina all signs of civilization would be gone in 2 weeks, overrun by wildlife and vegetation. This state is so thickly wooded and that lushness is so close it's right behind you and just over your shoulder. It's really refreshing to think that Mother Nature is not so far away. This next picture I took 2 blocks from my house and I love it. I feel like the woods are beckoning.

3) Diversity. I am currently taking a class at an all Black university and let's just say it is a far cry from anything I've ever experienced before and I'm loving it. I also like that I can go to a Malaysian restaurant and eat authentic, not to mention delicious, food. It's just nice. There is even some other adorable little interracial kids in our neighborhood, but none as cute as my nephews.

2) The confederate flag--Oh wait, I hate that. However, I do think there's something to Southern hospitality. People aren't usually just plain rude here. It's almost like courtesy is mandatory, which is a good thing. Being originally from New York I haven't completely lost my suspiciousness of strangers being nice to me, but since I have lived in North Carolina I've learned to drop my guard a bit.

DRUMROLL PLEASE . . .

1) Fried chicken. Let's be honest, the South don't play when it comes to fried chicken and barbeque. I actually think BBQing is a competitive sport around here, but I digress. Seriously, I have tasted some of the best fried chicken I have ever had right here in Dixie folks and I ain't lyin'. AND I have yet to taste Bojangles fried chicken which I hear is off the hook!

Well, there you have it. I might miss Maui but the flowers, having mother nature so close (I almost ran over a jackrabbit on the way to the gym the other day), diversity and good ol' fried chicken tend to ease my nostalgia a bit. This one's for you North Carolina!

Nostalgia

I have sand in my backpack.  I refuse to clean it out.  Every time I see that sand I remember Maui and dragging that same backpack filled with my journal, a book and snacks to the beach.  I remember relaxing in the unrelenting Hawaiian sun.  I remember the smell of the ocean water and the heavy air.  Sometimes the sand was too hot to walk on and would burn the bottom of my feet.  Looking back, it was a small price to pay for the spirit and beauty of such a place.  

The sand in my backpack is a portable piece of Maui and it would almost kill me to get rid of it.  It's so nice to have something to remember it by.  I took no pictures while I was there, at the time I didn't have a camera.  The sand is my personal photo album, a sort of time travel machine that transports me back there as I remove a formidable science textbook from my backpack these days.  Even though I had two jobs when I was there and worked my little fingers off, I made time every week to go to the beach.  I mean, why live on Maui and not go to the beach?  That's just plain sacrilege.  Going to the beach was peaceful and renewing.

The funny thing is that I cannot articulate what I miss most.  I think it's a combination of the island aura, history and people that created the magic I felt there.  Before I went to Maui I heard someone refer to it as their "happy place" and I would have to agree with her.  I think Maui is my happy place despite my being worn out and tired when I was there, despite arriving there without a home and without friends (although I left with some) and despite my having only a single item of baggage filled with my possessions.  Plus my backpack.  I think a person can still be happy under those circumstances, and I was.  

I know without a doubt I am in the right place now but sometimes I miss the smell of the ocean and hearing its waves.  At least I have some sand.

Amazing

You know what I think is truly amazing?

Fireflies.