Month: February 2004

Mood: Relaxed .: Springs Inside :.
Listening to: .: Black Star – Respiration :.
Reading: .: The Black Panthers Speak :.
Watching: .: One T – Magic Key :.

So…

I saw Inya today.

Today was the first day of classes. I got up at 9, slapped on Linkin Parks’ Reanimation, did push ups, crunches, and lifts, and took a shower when I got tired (I gotta get into better shape).
Set out, returned some library books, checked out a book, went to talk to James Hubbard (head of Internationals at college).
Had a good talk with him about the college’s plan to do outsourcing. Messiah College is currently looking at outsourcing, which is basically hiring out outside companies to do work on campus (like food services, printing, etc.). Services such as these are currently the only employer of international students. If they don’t have that, they can’t work PERIOD. It’s already bad enough that due to the laws of this country they can’t work outside college. James is worried. They rejected it this time, but chances are (the way Messiah goes) they do another review, and eventually a company will offer them an offer they can’t refuse. No international student is going to stay here if they can’t work; that’s their main income. It ain’t cheap sending a daughter or son across the ocean AND pay for school. Especially with terrible exchange rates. And if there are no international students, James has no job. I wrote a letter to the Provost (VP) to find out some more information.
Class started at 12, Modern Art. It’s the one class I have the option of dropping; I don’t need it. It’s interesting, but the books are mad expensive.
Took an hour break and checked on my computer labs, then at 3 went to Computer Graphics & Multimedia. I’m going to love this class. We’re going to learn FLASH. 🙂
After that, had a half our break, so I ran home to get some food.
I got a message from Titus, telling me Gospel Singers was going to meet at 5:30. I looked at the clock. It was 5:30. I had a class at 6. I knew I’d see him at United Voices of Praise (Gospel Choir), so I ate some dinner and went to class.
Senior Seminar sucks. I hate it. It’s a board of professors and all the Senior art majors, and we get our projects reviewed. It took too long, and was a pain. They liked my project (which is a music video for Pagoda) and I ducked out so I could go to Gospel Choir at 9.
Gospel Choir rocked, the bass section is really coming together. I’m exceptionally proud of that, because I’m the leader, and Gospel music does not traditionally have a bass section. We’re going to be singing at the Capitol on Thursday, and we’re going to be on TV!
I talked to Titus, and he said he might change the practice to another day, because Niambi can’t meet Mondays either.
Allen said he’d e-mail with the songs they went over so I can practice on my own.
Inya waited for me. 🙂
I think being her friend might be easier than I thought. I still need to be on my guard, though.
I walked her to her room and we talked the whole way.
She said she may be joining the mime team, which is interesting, because I was going to do the same thing.

Mood: Upset .: Burning Inside :.
Listening to: .: Lina – I’m not the Enemy :.
Reading: .: The Black Panthers Speak :.
Watching: .: You Got Served :.

It burns, a molten torch in my chest.
I’m still alive, though. I’m still working on myself. It does not hurt bad.
Ok, that’s a lie. It hurts like nothing else. But I must not use her gentleness to salve my wounds. It’s interesting… she appears the hard girl to everyone else, shooting them down with a simple look. But she is gentle to me. It’s not a matter of the eye of the beholder. It’s a change in actions.
If I use that, I’m only hurting myself. Filling myself with empty feelings. Surreptitiously received love is as vacant as the living room after a night’s passion. I’d be using her for affection, while she’d be using me for appreciation. And if anything physical happened, even a kiss, I would take it wrong. I need to appreciate her as a friend, stop calling her every day, stop visiting her all the time. Give her time to think. Give myself time to think.

I need to explore my options, and I ALSO need not to let the affections of others repair my damages either. I need to fix myself, spend more time with God, and revamp.
What a way to start a semester.
It’s hard, because Inya has such a powerful effect on me. She calms me like nothing else. Maybe I should be more discerning when I take advantage of that.
It’s going to be a long withdrawal, when I fall in love I fall deep.

I went out to see “You got Served” today. The story line was terrible. The acting was worse. The dancing was OFF THE CHAIN. I’m tellin’ you right now, there ain’t any other movie out there with dancing this good. Especially at the end. It was entertaining. Not sure it was 5$ worth, but it was nice to get off campus. I went with Idiki and Hope. I invited Inya. I would have been a crumb not to. She is STILL my best friend. This is going to be interesting. And very very hard.
Inya still isn’t feeling so great from her cough, so she didn’t come.

Oie. I wish life wasn’t so hard. It would be shady if it was easy, but this is too much. I need someone to talk to. I think too much, and then when I tell Inya as a friend, I inevitably end up telling her too much. No one can deal with that, especially when I’m discovering myself. All 4 voices have different opinions. I need to work out which is the strongest before I talk to anyone.

Mood: Upset .: SomethinInside :.
Listening to: .: India.Arie & Stacy Kent :.
Reading: .: The Black Panthers Speak :.
Watching: .: The Killing Fields :.

And suddenly I realize I am someone.
It is only half sudden, a slow process which has been with me since the first time I arrived on the reservation. When I first looked across the earthen ditch from Noah Einish’s house… seeing Unaam and Washaigin Natawappio… They nodded their heads at me. You look them dead in the eyes, and jerk your head up, all the while holding the gaze. Some liken it to the “male nod” that is common among distant acquaintances of the male sex down here in the states, but the feeling is distinctly different up there. And I nodded back. At that instant, a million things happened, an immediate acceptance and rejection. A sudden realization that I would become Naskapi and that at the same time I would never be truly accepted by them.
And so who am I?
I am a white boy. A son of a Polish family, a son of an Irish family, both on the bottom rungs of the white social ladder. All eight of my great-grandparents had tasted their native soil, giving up their home for the promise of a better life in America. And when they arrived here, they had done their best to melt, as was the custom, into the pot which would embrace them. By the time my parents came around, they spoke nothing of their mother tongue.
And yet I am more than that. I am Naskapi. Raised in three ways; by my parents, by the Naskapi children, and by the Naskapi elders. The children taught me to fight, by beating the snot out of me. Ridiculing me in school, dashing any dreams I had when they dashed my face into the cold gravel outside the playground. They taught me to change, to adapt everything save the very core of me; I could, if I had been able to change the appearance of my face (that’s all that matters in a land where -40 is common) I could have passed off as Montognais or Naskapi. I already had great fun in passing off as Quebecquois whenever I met someone who did not know who I was. The elders taught me how to deal with their children. Lord knows my parents didn’t know what do about that one. The elders taught me what it was like to go out in the bush and listen to the world around you. How to look across a clearing and see 15 invisible ptarmigan hiding in a bush. How to listen to the Creator and how He longs to listen to you. They taught me the corruptions that had caused the problems in their children; they brought me up as their own. And my parents? My parents taught me of God and smacked me when I chameleoned so much I lost my core set of morals, and set me back on track.
And yet I am more than that.
I have discovered I also taught myself. I read thousands of books from my parents’ library, and from the library at school. I became bent on becoming everything I could be. I became entranced with learning, with wisdom, with teaching myself about love, politics, society, philosophy, ethics, morals, scripture. I studied great works of literature. I began modeling myself after protagonists. Tom Swift. Ishmael. King David. Edmond Dantez. King Solomon. Sherlock Holmes. I studied famous people in history, and modeled myself after them. Thomas Edison. Leonardo DaVinci. Walt Disney. Copernicus. India Arie. Plato. I studied the dictators and oppressors of mankind, in hopes I could learn from them so I would not become like them. The most evil people ever have been self-appointed dictators who were geniuses. At some point or another, they had strayed from constantly improving themselves and felt they had achieved a place where they could no longer improve. The second kind of evil person would be the kinds who were placed in leadership, who are just plain morons most of the time (much like our current leaders).
So what does it make me?
A conscious white man. If you don’t know what the consciousness movement is, look it up. That’s the first step to becoming conscious anyways. Read, sucker. Wikipedia has the best definition I’ve find.
I am interested in working on myself. In revolutions. In helping the oppressed. In life, and the beauty of it. In love.
I have discovered I do not have to be a chameleon for anyone, but at the same time I can use that power to adapt myself when I see someone I admire.
I am discovering myself.
This is a significant milestone. It defines what the rest of my life will be like, and what changed will progress from there. It shapes my relationship to God. It strengthens it. It shapes the woman I will end up with. It does not change everything, but moreover gives me a better idea of who I am.

Inya and I talked tonight. I am on my last chance to work this out as a friendship. I worried too much and did not trust her to let me know if she had any of her feelings change.

I’m not out for anyone’s comfort but my own at this point. If I’m not comfortable with myself, no one else is going to be. If I don’t make attempts at knowing myself, how can I expect anyone else to care? And I need to do it for myself, NOT so I all have someone care.

I’ve flipped out of control and landed square on my own two feet. And the interesting thing is Inya thinks we can still work it out. I was surprised. I was perfectly ready to be completely cut off tonight. Bang, boom, no more friendship. But she didn’t want that. Neither did I, but I was willing to give up the gig if she felt she’d had enough.

I don’t know when the next time is I’ll talk with her. I need a break. I bet we both do. I need some time to be by myself anyways.