Author: benjancewicz

Mood: Meditative / Reflective .: Power Inside :.
Listening to: .: Nas – If I Ruled the World :.
Reading: .: Everything but the Burden :.
Watching: .: History of WWII Ships :.

Aloha!

Pagoda had a show at a Coffeehouse tonight, and it rocked. It really helped us a WHOLE lot to play quieter. Lox said it right in practice: if we can’t hear each other talk while we play; we’re too loud. It really keeps us together. I feel like if we practice like that; we can rock out on stage and be together.

I’ve been asked to speak at the Baccalaureate, here are my rough thoughts I sent them tonight.

It’s VERY rough.

I grew up on a Native American reservation, and though I had said the prayer of repentance when I was 4, I hadn’t really known what it meant. I was involved in all kinds of spiritual darkness; being plagued by drink and smoking and sex. Although I wasn’t accepted by the Native American children I grew up with; I wanted to be. I wanted to fit in, to belong; just to have a friend who liked me. It was not like growing up in the States; I couldn’t just find a new group of friends who I clicked better with; there was only one group. And because of the colour of my skin; I didn’t fit.
I learned to be just like them. I fit in perfectly, in the way I acted, talked, dressed and even thought. And I was close to taking on the rest of the negative aspects.
It wasn’t until my confirmation class at the age of 13 that I realized that what I was living and what I said my faith was were two different things. At that same time; I had also been coming more in touch with God. He began speaking to me through dreams; and while I was out alone in the Forest. He began showing me he had larger plans for me, that might not end with me living at home. That there were more things that he wanted me to learn.
And slowly, I began to realize that the colour of my skin was not a mistake. On one hand; it had kept me from being accepted too much. On the other hand, I had also proved that I could fit in. The elders of the community had welcomed me and treated me as their own. In once sense, I did belong. And they, with my parents, made me realize God wanted to talk with me and for me to love him. It led me to be baptized and led me to begin encouraging those around me to see what I saw.

It took me until my senior year to be confident about my Naskapi heritage. I held it back, sitting through classes where I heard racial slurs; some unintentional some intentional; towards minority students.
I used to get me angry; hearing my culture walked all over… treated like a savage beast conquered by the European Americans while they “Tamed the West”. I cringed when they named their things Native American names; using the names of chiefs and of tribes for their automobiles, lakes, rivers, towns, and sports teams; and yet treated anyone who looked like a Native like dirt. They were classified as drunk weed growers who only wanted money from casinos.
Slowly, I realized I wasn’t the only one who was being marginalized and hurt. I sat in the back, and saw African Americans, Asian Americans and Latin Americans hurt by comments they had received. I saw subcultures of the white American society get bashed for they way the looked, dressed, and what music they listened to. And I looked at my own race; and realized I was the only one. I didn’t see any other single person who understood how I grew up; on a reservation, speaking Naskapi, hunting, trapping, fishing, living in the bush.
Then I looked at myself. I was white.
I could not relate to the white person; I did not grow up speaking my main language as English. I didn’t grow up with their TV shows, their music, their way of life.
But they trusted me. When I spoke in the classroom, I discovered people listened to me. For the first time, rather than being a handicap, my colour was suddenly a privilege. I discovered that I was able to argue for the same things my minority friends argued for; but when I spoke, the white people listened.
I began studying the history of the United States. I studied how the slave trade had started with Native Americans who had been taken prisoner and forced to run their own plantations. And when they refused and died out; the Europeans began bringing in new forms of savage labour. I read about the civil rights movement. I read about the history of the Latin American; the Mexican and Cuban immigrants. I read about the Civil War, the 2 world wars, the Vietnam war, the first Iraqi war. I read about the Chinese railroad labour in the west.
And I discovered I was able to speak about it and people listened. I discovered that though it took a while for the minorities to get used to me fighting on their side; once they realized who I was, I was welcomed. I also saw that each minority group was fighting against marginalization, but they each were fighting on their own. There was no unity, and sometimes the groups ended up disagreeing with themselves; halting their progress.
I was the middle ground. I was Native American. I had no representatives but myself. I was part of a race of ghosts, and their specters cried out that I had to do something to prevent what happened to them from happening again. I appeared white. I had a voice, and it had the power to talk to people who related to my colour without scaring them, and without having them feel like they were being attacked.
And that is where I find myself today. I not only fought for injustice and promotion of equality and understanding on campus, but I also began designing half the stuff you see around campus, and worked for the Student computer services.
These three things combined landed me a job in Harrisburg; teaching Art and Computers to young minority kids at a inner city Christian middle school that runs on all on donations.

Aight. I have to sleep, I’m going to help out with the International Banquet tomorrow.

Mood: Meditative / Reflective .: Copper Inside :.
Listening to: .: Alexia – It Is Not The End :.
Reading: .: Everything but the Burden :.
Watching: .: Foundation for a Better Life Commercials :.

Aloha

Today was alright.
I’m a little tired.
I got up pretty early for a Monday; around 10:30. 🙂
Made sure Christine’s poster was looking good (posted) and then went out on the moped to make some rounds.
I returned a whole bunch of library books, and then went down to Old Main. Those designers had a field day with the SIFE report; scratching it up will all kinds of corrections.
I thought most of it what unnecessary; but it was mostly wording changes anyway; so it wasn’t my fault as a designer. I’m going to touch it up tomorrow and make sure everything is good.
Then went to mail off the Pagoda rough CD to the publishers, and then went to class.

Started learning about Flash today; it’s fun. I’m excited to learn to import the stuff I’ve been doing in Illustrator into Flash.
My portfolio site is going to be redone it looks like, the thing was just too stinkin’ big to upload. I have to figure out something simpler to work out. Less image and more HTML.

Went to Gospel Singers after that. I don’t know how it’s going to work with Fred. It’s just… he doesn’t sing on key. And he causes a lot of trouble with the other singers too. I don’t know, I feel bad for the kid. Me and young Alan Chipman are bonding well, though.

After that went to Senior Show class.
I hate that class so much. They ripped on my piece, students and faculty alike, and on things that I wasn’t done with anyways. I hate having to show unfinished pieces to people who argue about stupid stuff that ends up being soley a matter of opinion anyways.
Mary and Kyna were nice to me, though, and gave some constructive criticism after the rest of ’em were through with me. Make my blood boil, but it’s ok.

Sped down to Gospel Choir after that. That went well.
Then up to the Deep Thoughts Poetry reading in the new Student Union building. I don’t like the place; too open and echoey. The poetry was excellent, though, even though I only caught the tail end of it.

Played Foozball with Paul and Alan Chipman, Breon Wells, Christine Barrow, Niambi Powell and Joanne Garde.

And I’m tired. I was going to write poetry tonight, but I’m too bushed. Maybe I’ll submit something instead.

Mood: Disbelief .: Savage Inside :.
Listening to: .: Chopin – Nocturne in E Flat :.
Reading: .: Everything but the Burden :.
Watching: .: John Q :.

Aloha

My parents came over today. My dad and I worked on the motorcycle. My mom wanted to watch a movie, so I set up Finding Forrester for her. We took a break because we were having trouble getting the cover of the box for the contact points. We weren’t getting a spark at all, so we knew there must be some point of disconnection in between the battery and the coils; most likely in the many replaced switches on the handlebars. Also, something I’ll do on my own later is take apart the starter chain casing to make sure the pins are falling to connect to the drive shaft (It’s spinning freely at the moment).
My dad and I went out to the Yamaha shop to ask how to get the panel off, and it turns out we’ll probably have to drill. We picked up subs on the way back, and then ate them at the house. Mom had finished Finding Forrester, and then had picked out John Q. from my movies.
I’d never seen it before, so we ate our subs and watched it with her.
John Q. is an excellent movie. Go watch it if you haven’t yet. Mipa Lee came by while we were watching, and asked to borrow a couple of my movies. She borrowed How to Lose A Guy in 10 Days, Brown Sugar and Antwone Fisher. Then Maggie Arnold came by returning 3 movies she had borrowed; The Defender (Jet Li), Crouching Tiger, and Return to Me. You know you have good movies when everyone wants to borrow them. J Anyways, John Q is about a man who gives up his heart (and basically his life) for his son. It’s incredible. It stars Denzel Washington, and his acting is superb. I like his accent in the movie, but can’t remember where I’ve heard it before.

After that, we took of for the Lathrop’s (my host parents) and then once there we drove to the church for a pot luck dinner with Gary Lathrop’s Sunday School class. Lots of yuppies with young kids. Needless to say, I got along with the kids really well. I played all kinds of games with them; must have looked like a sea of little elves around a giant robot with them clambering all over me. It was fun, though. I love kids. They often have far wiser things to say than their parents. Their parents drove me up a wall. The random babble about needless things and really bad jokes just got to me. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t be critical or arrogant. But they were so ignorant. I must find a way to teach these kinds of people without insulting them, and still be noble that they can look up to.

We came back to the Lathrop’s after that. Mr. and Mrs. Lathrop just don’t seem happily married. My parents snuggled together in one of their over stuffed leather chairs like a couple of teenagers. The Lathrop’s sat on opposite sides of the rooms, mildly bickering as Mr. Lathrop sent across condescending remarks.
And he’s a marriage counselor. Sigh.
I will never get married if that is what the marriage has the potential of being.

I retired early to come and write this and to escape as the condescending remarks turned on me. Mrs. Lathrop went to Messiah College, and Mr. Lathrop was making snide comments about the debate that happened last year on the campus alcohol policy. And on top of it, my mother joined in. None of them had actually asked me what had really happened. And besides, I’m not… shall we say… the token poster boy for Messiah College anyways. Far be it from I to advocate everything this college does; but then again, far be it from I to advocate any oppressive administration. So I stayed silent and smiled and let them wallow in their own silliness.
This country is plummeting; I swear. So many factors point to the imminent destruction of this nation, and at the same time it’s citizens have the gall to insist and demand that “God Bless America”. Bull. This country is headed towards civil war. The minorities of this country do not believe they are being treated justly; the baby boomers and gen X, the most un-parented generations this green earth has ever seen are parenting the youth of this nation.
And the youth, while they may not be smart, are itching for a rebellion. And there are those educated enough to lead the rebellions. Either that, or the youth will destroy themselves.

Anarchy in America. The bombs bursting in air gave proof that the flag was still there. And the flag still here is a sign that more bombs will come.

Mood: Disbelief .: Savage Inside :.
Listening to: .: Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong – Tenderly :.
Reading: .: Everything but the Burden :.
Watching: .: Hidalgo :.

Aloha.

Quickly, a shameless couple plugs:
~robotorion is my photo album of where I’ve been.
~OnePagoda is my band’s photo album.
~naskapi-linguist is my father. His drawings and photos rock.
~ElizabethJancewicz is my sister. She rocks period, and her art is good too.

Hidalgo is my new favorite movie. Hands down. I love that movie.
It’s about a half-Native American coming to grips with who he is in a horse race across the Arabian Desert. It’s incredible. And the best thing, it’s not Hollywoodized. I mean, no sex, no profanity… It is ONE GOOD MOVIE.

I went out for a walk in the snow last night after I posted; it was beautiful. I walked around for a while, I felt energized. I talked to Tamika online when I got home, she thought I was corny. *shrugs* story of my life; the hopeless romantic. It was incredible, though. It was falling so softly, coating everything. It was peaceful, just talking to God and unwinding. I think I need to do that again tonight.

I met with Terry Earhart this morning and finalized the SIFE Annual Report. I’ll be sending him the invoice soon. After that, I went down to the Messiah Design office to have it proofed. It turns out they wanted it in a different format than I had it, and wanted bleeds off the edges, so I sat there with their computer for about an hour and a half converting it. When I got out, I found the post office was closed. I was going to send out the Pagoda CD by snail mail, because I had encountered trouble sending it to the printer by e-mail.

The moped is running properly, so I sped home. I found Tamika walking around with her cellphone. She was on a break from working on her senior project, and talking to her mom. She walked with me back to Rafiki. I checked my messages, and Dad left a note that he would be arriving at about 4. Tamika and I dozed and chatted in the living room for a while; it had pretended to be summer again and it was warm. Tamika had got up to go, and my parents pulled up. I’m not sure what came first, but somehow she slipped past without meeting them.

In any case, I showed my Mom around Rafiki (she’d never been there) and then we went out to dinner. I took them to a little Vietnamese restaurant that Mr. Ho had taken me to a couple weeks earlier. I ordered Pho of course (the same thing I had cooked for Tamika’s birthday) and my parents ordered too. I ate with chopsticks of course, and my dad also picked up a pair and began eating.
Half way through our meal he commented that he had never used them before. I almost choked. He had picked them up like a natural, and was picking up single grains of rice with them. That had taken me a week. Needless to say I was greatly impressed. Not to be outdone, my mom gave a valiant effort at using them too, but resorted to her fork. She’ll be able to use them too if she practices.

We went to see Hidalgo after that at the AMC Hampden 8 theatre.
Like I said, it was incredible. It showed the battle of Wounded Knee River, and Wild Bill Cody’s circus as it really was. My blood boiled. I really loved that movie.

After we got out, my dad made the comment that he didn’t especially like how the Whites were portrayed in the movie; the supposedly Christian white woman was the badguy. But then I pointed out that (as much as possible) it was historically accurate, he agreed.

They drove me home, and tomorrow I’ll meet up with them to spend some more time.

I found Inya online.
The conversation was weird. At first it was light and humorous, we joked back and forth, but then became more serious, and maybe perhaps tense. I don’t know. And I’m not sure if it was more me or her. I feel like I’m having more pride in my heritage and my culture, and I don’t think that’s something that she’s used to. It’s weird. I don’t think she considered me to a person of “culture”, but I’m not sure. she seemed a little taken aback that I would be offended at anything she said.
I felt very strange, and decided to bid her goodnight. She found that strange and abrupt.

I’m more complicated than I thought, and yet still simple of character. This is puzzling, but I like it.

I need to talk to God some more.

Aloha

Francis Cabrel always makes me feel sad.

Had a meeting with Miss Deb today, though it was pretty short. She hadn’t recieved the videos yet, and so we decided we should set up a date to watch them and review them as a group.
I set up to have Tavis Smiley’s State of the Black Family to be watched on campus followed by a group discussion of several important leaders from the area. However, there are some sensitive issues that Femi Akinnagbe brought up in our last meeting, issues about how the 1st video in the series is directed towards black people, and showing it to white people would just be letting out dirty laundry.
It’s a good point, and one that needs to be discussed after fully reviewing both videos (Femi hasn’t seen the videos, and I’ve only seen the first). Me, Femi, Tamika, Breon, and Niambi are going to review them with Miss Deb on Tuesday.

My moped’s back tire has been sticking, and it was warm today, so after I checked my mail, I worked on the moped. I took the back wheel apart. I think it needs grease. I put it on better than it was before, but I think I need to realign it because the pedal chain is sticking slightly. I took apart the motor as well and cleaned off the carbon deposits. It was the first time I’d done it, I don’t feel so nervous about it anymore. Once I figure out how to do something on my own, I rarely forget.

I worked on the computer all day, pausing every now and then for a break and to check DA. I finished the SIFE report, and made some significant advances on my final project. I need to start flowing text in, I think I’ve got everything else done.

I’m going to be interviewed by ~ souljahsstory for his magazine he’s designing sometimes soon, I sent ZEn’s terms and agreements for his signature. He’s quite the budding graphics artist. I helped him along with one of his BBC projects he’s working on (he’s from the UK).

Collins Mwangi, Richard Arao, Gerald Mwangi, David Chebbet and Joseph Chebbet all cooked a Kenya dinner (Japates) for us tonight. Agtur Hutabarat, Fred Boutcher, Patricia Coke, Inya, Joanne Garde and Mipa Lee all came over to eat.

We watched Making the Band on MTV after that. Those people are so privileged and they act like such idiots. It’s so dumb.

I feel low class sometimes. It’s hard to find the fine line between being a savage and being regal. I want to be dignified and still be fun at the same time, and the only way I will be is if I stop worrying about it.

My parents are coming this weekend.
I feel so… disconnected from them. I think both I and them are letting this culture take hold in letting us become too busy. I never talk to them anymore. I miss them.
It’s weird to be around them sometimes, though, because I realize that even though they’re my parents and they went through the same culture shift I did, it seems a lot more sharp for me. They don’t see things the way I do, and don’t share the same values. I’m an activist, and I see that really not there in them. A lot of the things that stick out to me as racist or stereotyping they don’t seem to realize.
I still miss them a lot, though.

A gentleman savage. Interesting mix.

Mood: Relaxed .: Mellow Inside :.
Listening to: .: Anthony Hamilton – My First Love :.
Reading: .: Everything but the Burden :.
Watching: .: Hunt for Red October :.

Aloha!

Cooked lunch for Tamika today, just mac & cheese & hot dogs, and then we just hung out in the living room. I played keyboard until she fell asleep, and then when my hands got too tired I fell asleep on the rug. It was a nice nap. It’s been snowing here, we got like a half a foot. It was warm inside, though, and the sun came in for a while and baked us.

Talked to Inya online a bit; she stayed in Christine’s apartment (where she’s been staying over break) and studied all day. I told her to look me up if she wanted a study break.

I worked all day on the SIFE report, I now have everything done except the back page. I’ll be completely done tomorrow. I’m not sure exactly when my parents are coming, we’re supposed to go over to my host parents house this weekend.
I’m going to bring my laptop. There is a lot of writing I’ve been saving up to do.

Patty came over this evening. I was going to watch Hunt For Red October, but no one wanted to watch it with me. So Patty and I talked in the kitchen and ate popcorn. We talked a bit about what she’s been going through & dealing with crushes, and then about me an Inya a bit, and then about how I’ve been changing so much.

I haven’t been changing in personality, but of roots. I’m realizing why I am the way I am.

Mood: Relaxed .: Steel Inside :.
Listening to: .: EPMD – Strictly Business :.
Reading: .: Everything but the Burden :.
Watching: .: Pearl Harbor :.

Aloha.

Life is interesting.
Let’s divide this up.
Inya: I don’t know. Sometimes it’s warm, sometimes it’s cold, most of the time it’s Luke. It doesn’t bother me, because I’m relearning not to rely on friends again. I was wrong to thing that my history would make that automatic, especially when she stepped away and I realized how much I was leaning on her.
It was tough learning to trust God again, but I’m relearning painfully. So yeah, she’s been back and forth, but I’m able to still be a friend and not be affected (too much).

School: I am down to 6 credits. After taking 18 credits almost every semester since I got here, it feels good to take a break. and it’s been giving me the chance to do a lot more extracurricular stuff.

Extracurricular: I’m in Gospel Choir, International Choir, Pagoda, Mime Team, African Dancers, Bible Study music, a bunch of other things I can’t recall at the moment.

Consciousness: I’m Native American. That’s all there is to it. I cannot relate to the average American. I find that the more I find out about them, the less comfortable I am. And the more I find out about the history of my people, the more I relate and want to fight for them.
Native Americans have a lot to offer to this society, but get steamrolled. I’ve been relating to the movements by a lot of minority groups.

Gospel choir: We went on tour of NYC two weekends ago. That Rocked. Tamika, one of the soloist in Gospel Choir have become closer friends. We met her when I first came as a freshman engineer. I’m not sure how we met, but we became friends. Didn’t see each other for a while, beyond the occasional “hi”. We hung out bit over the tour. I made her Vietnamese Pho for her birthday last Monday. I think she liked it. We’re planning to go see Alicia Keys in concert later on.

Oie, gotta get to bed.

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

Thinking….

I need sleep. I need to rest. It has been a LONG time since I wrote a journal entry.

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.