I hate humans.

I am Employed. I will be working for Americorps in some sort of management/ supervisory position.

I will be building programs to promote literacy in local schools.

Everyone that works for my Particular program (City Year) is 17-24.

For training, I am going to Boston for a week.

Awesome.

Updates

I've been back in Philadelphia since mid May.

I finally have found a job that is awesome and I will be working with  people who are all around my age ( 17-24).

Because of the job I may be going to Boston soon ( Sunday-ish)

Questions: How racist is the Gay community ? Is there such a thing as a gay community ?If so, is it right to accuse it - as a whole- of racism ? How segregated is it? Is there an invisible man syndrome with regard to black men - and other minorities- in spaces that are, generally, reserved for middle-classed , white homos ?

There is no such a thing as "gay culture". A few clubs, bars, bathhouses and luminaries that happen to be gay dont make a culture, though they make fine attractions in travel manuals.

I love green tea.

Recently, Cara visited me and we ate at a fashionable cafe on a saturday afternoon and I felt like the world was accessible, close, and veneered.

COMMENTARY

Imus isn’t the real bad guy

Instead of wasting time on irrelevant shock jock, black leaders need to be fighting a growing gangster culture.

By JASON WHITLOCK - Columnist

Thank you, Don Imus. You’ve given us (black people) an excuse to avoid our real problem.

You’ve given Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson another opportunity to pretend that the old fight, which is now the safe and lucrative fight, is still the most important fight in our push for true economic and social equality.

You’ve given Vivian Stringer and Rutgers the chance to hold a nationally televised recruiting celebration expertly disguised as a news conference to respond to your poor attempt at humor.

Thank you, Don Imus. You extended Black History Month to April, and we can once again wallow in victimhood, protest like it’s 1965 and delude ourselves into believing that fixing your hatred is more necessary than eradicating our self-hatred.

The bigots win again.

While we’re fixated on a bad joke cracked by an irrelevant, bad shock jock, I’m sure at least one of the marvelous young women on the Rutgers basketball team is somewhere snapping her fingers to the beat of 50 Cent’s or Snoop Dogg’s or Young Jeezy’s latest ode glorifying nappy-headed pimps and hos.

I ain’t saying Jesse, Al and Vivian are gold-diggas, but they don’t have the heart to mount a legitimate campaign against the real black-folk killas.

It is us. At this time, we are our own worst enemies. We have allowed our youths to buy into a culture (hip hop) that has been perverted, corrupted and overtaken by prison culture. The music, attitude and behavior expressed in this culture is anti-black, anti-education, demeaning, self-destructive, pro-drug dealing and violent.

Rather than confront this heinous enemy from within, we sit back and wait for someone like Imus to have a slip of the tongue and make the mistake of repeating the things we say about ourselves.

It’s embarrassing. Dave Chappelle was offered $50 million to make racially insensitive jokes about black and white people on TV. He was hailed as a genius. Black comedians routinely crack jokes about white and black people, and we all laugh out loud.

I’m no Don Imus apologist. He and his tiny companion Mike Lupica blasted me after I fell out with ESPN. Imus is a hack.

But, in my view, he didn’t do anything outside the norm for shock jocks and comedians. He also offered an apology. That should’ve been the end of this whole affair. Instead, it’s only the beginning. It’s an opportunity for Stringer, Jackson and Sharpton to step on victim platforms and elevate themselves and their agenda$.

I watched the Rutgers news conference and was ashamed.

Martin Luther King Jr. spoke for eight minutes in 1963 at the March on Washington. At the time, black people could be lynched and denied fundamental rights with little thought. With the comments of a talk-show host most of her players had never heard of before last week serving as her excuse, Vivian Stringer rambled on for 30 minutes about the amazing season her team had.

Somehow, we’re supposed to believe that the comments of a man with virtually no connection to the sports world ruined Rutgers’ wonderful season. Had a broadcaster with credibility and a platform in the sports world uttered the words Imus did, I could understand a level of outrage.

But an hourlong press conference over a man who has already apologized, already been suspended and is already insignificant is just plain intellectually dishonest. This is opportunism. This is a distraction.

In the grand scheme, Don Imus is no threat to us in general and no threat to black women in particular. If his words are so powerful and so destructive and must be rebuked so forcefully, then what should we do about the idiot rappers on BET, MTV and every black-owned radio station in the country who use words much more powerful and much more destructive?

I don’t listen or watch Imus’ show regularly. Has he at any point glorified selling crack cocaine to black women? Has he celebrated black men shooting each other randomly? Has he suggested in any way that it’s cool to be a baby-daddy rather than a husband and a parent? Does he tell his listeners that they’re suckers for pursuing education and that they’re selling out their race if they do?

When Imus does any of that, call me and I’ll get upset. Until then, he is what he is — a washed-up shock jock who is very easy to ignore when you’re not looking to be made a victim.

No. We all know where the real battleground is. We know that the gangsta rappers and their followers in the athletic world have far bigger platforms to negatively define us than some old white man with a bad radio show. There’s no money and lots of danger in that battle, so Jesse and Al are going to sit it out.

BOOP

I realized that I missed Kelly Hayes. She is the friend I call to talk about adventures , the future, and how to deal with being pulled at all ends from various groups of friends.

I've been spending a lot of time alone. Those that know me well know that this is something that is second nature to me. I enjoy solitude, reflection, and thinking. All too often I  have keep on the move to maintain my solitude. Usually, if I sit in the library, the commonplace, the hub, various lounges ,  I usually run into someone I know and they insist on  sitting at my table.

For someone who spends, on average 90% of his time alone , I have a strange number of acquaintances. I'd say I have between 350 -500 on campus who know me by name, 200 of which I know by name. But, of all those people, 8 are some sort of friend. I personally think that  friend is a sacred word, a word that holds that this person whom you have chose to be dear to you means more to you than others who are semi-important. Whats strange is that I even seperate the friends into a rational pyramid. It's no secret that my friendship with Eric Bell is my best and most secure. I never feel like I owe him friendship time.

My mother says I should be more generous with the word friend. She's a hypocrite because she only two three people she would deign to call friends.

There are three parties this weekend. I am in a very remote mood. To be in groups may destroy the contentment I feel.

This entry is quite scattered.