Uh... what?

I'm not exactly sure how I ended up there, but I did. I was at this bar in the Lower East Side, called BOB, a small venue, rather coffin like since it just extends straight down to the bar, and had booths lining the sides. That was it.

Oh I remember how I ended up there, it was a friend's going away party (she had actually already left by this point I think). Anyhow, Alanna and Shannon were there with me, Alanna was up and about, Shannon and I sitting on the booth, catching up.

Then this Asian girl (more like lady...) in a jeans jacket, walks up waving. Figuring she was someone's friend, we both waved back.

"Is someone sitting there?" she asked, pointing to some space between Shannon and I. We both looked at each other thinking it was weird she'd ask for the seat in between us, considering it didn't seem like she knew either one of us.

"No, go ahead," I replied, motioning to the empty spot.

So she puts her coat there.

"You don't remember me?" she says into my ear.

"Remember you?" I asked, completely confused. "I don't think I know you."

Up close, I could see the layers of makeup, which led me to notice that there was something odd about her clothes but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

"I'm supposed to meet you."

I was completely lost. I had no idea who the hell she was, but yet she kept insisting. The look on my face must have been revealing, because her friend that I hadn't noticed until now, stepped up.

"You were here last week right?"

This was my second time at BOB. The first time being close to a year prior.

"Uhh, no, not at all, you have the wrong person."

"Are you sure?" they both looked just as confused as I did now.

"Umm yeah I'm pretty sure I'd know if I were here last week."

They looked at each other, said something then turned back to me.

"You look just like him, are you really sure?"

Oh my god, I'd fucking know if I were here last week or not.

"Yeah I'm sure."

Nodding reluctantly, they finally walked away.

"Who was that?" Shannon asked.

And when I said I had no idea, we started laughing and talking about what just happened. The crazy part is, Jeans Jacket came back to ask me again, if I was sure I wasn't this guy she was supposed to meet, and kept insisting that I looked just like him. She leaves again.

At some point during the night, I go out for a smoke. On my way back in, Jeans Jacket stops me (again!), and asks me what ethnicity I am.

"Oh I'm Taiwanese too!" she said excitedly, then pointing at both herself and me, "You, me, brother, sister."

"What?"

I was starting to get irritated. She actually repeated herself, meanwhile my "what" was of incredulity.

"Look, I don't have a sister."

"You don't want me as sister?"

"Uh no."

Then her invisible sidekick interjects.

"Are you here alone?"

Knowing what she meant, I played dumb.

"Nah, I'm here with my friends."

I pointed to my group, then just started walking away.

About an hour had passed by now. Who were these people? I guess it wouldn't have been such a big deal if she weren't 40ish, trying to act and dress like she were 20, and looking like she fell into a tub of makeup foundation.

So I'm sitting and talking to my friends, having a good time, started joking that Jeans Jacket was a prostitute and her invisible sidekick was her pimp. It wasn't actually too far fetched considering the vibe they were giving off.

Jeans Jacket started dancing around our area, inching closer and closer. My friends started semi-jokingly forming a wall around me to keep her out lol, Danielle dancing right up against her and bumping her away.

But her pimp still comes a-fucking-gain!

"Why aren't you dancing?"

I had enough.

"Look, I don't know you, or your friend, I don't care to talk to you, I'm not who you think I am, so just stop talking to me."

I actually had to tell her that twice because the first time she didn't hear or understand. But she was respectful and walked away. Jeans Jacket comes by a few minutes later, and her sidekick rushes up behind her, grabs her arm, points to me and shakes her head.

They disappeared again, came back but didn't say anything. Jeans Jacket just did some wave motion with her hand, pointed at me, then herself, then some other hand signs that I clearly didn't understand, because I just stared at her blankly. My jaw might have been hanging open actually. Then she turned around and left.

Was she just nuts? My friends and I just looked at each other frowning, completely confused as to what that whole little episode was. But it was a relief that she was finally gone. She was bothering me for a total of 2.5 hours!

To this day I still don't know if she was a prostitute or not. I forgot what it was, but there were a few little things that happened that night that led me to lean more towards that conclusion. It's either that, or she really did meet someone there the week before and they were supposed to meet again. I'm not sure what the whole sister/brother thing was though, but I'm pretty sure that's gotta be the worst pickup line ever lol.

What We Lose

I just read something on a friend's blog, and it was about faith. Not faith in religion, or even faith in yourself, but rather, faith in other people.

Pondering my own faith in others or humanity as a whole never crossed my mind before. Why? I guess I thought becoming cynical and losing that faith was part of growing up. As a kid and teenager I was very idealistic, very trusting, and I believed in the intrinsic good in people, honestly believing that they would, ultimately, do what's right.

As I "matured," or more accurately, "aged," I lost it. Cynical and blase, I'm now under the impression that the majority of people will do what it takes to advance their own position in life, with little regard to others around them. Humanity has always been its own worst enemy, doomed to commit suicide.

After a couple betrayals it's hard to trust people. I guess I'm fortunate that I was naturally more trusting than others, and as such my experiences have tapered that down to a healthier level, and I'm still able to trust.

But of the millions of people out there who cannot, who are or feel alone and isolated, what are they to do? Everyone's so caught up in their own little worlds, rushing about to make ends meet, to feed their stomach, to sleep under a roof, we all lost the appreciation of the little things in life, and we've lost sight of the bigger picture. What is that bigger picture? I have no idea, I'm just as caught up in my own self-created world.

When I think of having faith in others/humanity again, it makes me tingly inside, like it's a childish idealistic dream, like utopias, chased but never caught. But what if that's not necessarily the case? What if what's warped is not the dream, but reality? What if we really do lose a little more of ourselves with each passing year, but yet, we call it becoming wiser, being more realistic?

Whichever the case, we die and are reborn every day of our lives. If this is what my life shaped me to be, then so be it, I can only truly learn from my past experiences. We all want to stay true to ourselves, yet we never fail to compromise our beliefs, our stance, our being. If you can't beat em, join em, right? =/

How many of us grow up actually living our dreams? How much do we give up? What did you have to lose, to not be shunned by this god-forsaken society?

But I will NOT lose in the end. Sacrifices are sometimes necessary in order to attain your goals, just don't let them be in vain. The day I stop wondering, the day I stop pondering, the day I stop questioning, is the day I truly die. Until then, hopefully we can all find a way.

"Perhaps, if we stop to listen, and wonder, and accept, that faith can one day be restored." -Eva

Eminem - Beautiful

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lgT1AidzRWM

I liked the song the first time I heard it but I started really feeling this when I actually paid attention to the lyrics lol, just sharing... one of the beauties of music is allowing people to see that no matter how different our lives may be, there are experiences that can be shared and related to, no matter who you are, where you came from, or where you're going

Lately I've been hard to reach
I've been too long on my own
Everybody has a private world
Where they can be alone
Are you calling me, are you trying to get through
Are you reaching out for me, I'm reaching out for you

I'm just so fuckin' depressed
I just can't seem to get out this slump
If I could just get over this hump
But I need something to pull me out this dump
I took my bruises, took my lumps
Fell down and I got right back up
But I need that spark to get psyched back up
In order for me to pick the mic back up
I don't know how or, why or when,
I ended up in this position I'm in
I'm starting to feel distant again
So I decided just to pick this pen
Up and try to make an attempt to vent
But I just can't admit
Or come to grips, with the fact that
I may be done with rap
I need a new outlet
And I know some shits so hard to swallow
But I just can't sit back and wallow
In my own sorrow
But I know one fact
I'll be one tough act to follow
One tough act to follow
I'll be one tough act to follow
Here today, gone tomorrow
But you'd have to walk a thousand miles

[Chorus]
In my shoes, just to see
What it's like, to be me
I'll be you, let's trade shoes
Just to see what It'd be like to
Feel your pain, you feel mine
Go inside each others mind
Just to see what we find
Look at shit through each others eyes

But don't let 'em say you ain't beautiful
They can all get fucked, just stay true to you
Don't let 'em say you ain't beautiful
They can all get fucked, just stay true to you

I think I'm starting to lose my sense of humor
Everything's so tense and gloom
I almost feel like I gotta check the temperature in the room
Just as soon as I walk in
It's like all eyes on me
So I try to avoid any eye contact
Cause if I do that then it opens a door for conversation
Like I want that...
I'm not looking for extra attention
I just want to be just like you
Blend in with the rest of the room
Maybe just point me to the closest restroom
I don't need no fucking man servant
Tryna follow me around, and wipe my ass
Laugh at every single joke I crack
And half of em ain't even funny like
Haa! Marshall, you're so funny man, you should be a comedian, god damn
Unfortunately I am, I just hide behind the tears of a clown
So why don't you all sit down
Listen to the tale I'm about to tell
Hell, we don't gotta trade our shoes
And you don't gotta walk no thousand miles

[Chorus]
In my shoes, just to see
What it's like, to be me
I'll be you, let's trade shoes
Just to see what it'll be like to
Feel your pain, you feel mine
Go inside each others mind
Just to see what we find
Look at shit through each others eyes

But don't let 'em say you ain't beautiful
They can all get fucked, just stay true to you so
Don't let 'em say you ain't beautiful
They can all get fucked, just stay true to you

Nobody asked for life to deal us
With these bullshit hands we're dealt
We gotta take these cards ourselves
And flip em, don't expect no help
Now I could have either just
Sat on my ass and pissed and moaned
Or take this situation in which I'm placed in
And get up and get my own
I was never the type of kid
To wait by the door and pack his bags
Or sat on the porch and hoped and prayed
For a dad to show up who never did
I just wanted to fit in
In every single place
Every school I went
I dreamed of being that cool kid
Even if it meant acting stupid
Aunt Edna always told me
Keep making that face it'll get stuck like that
Meanwhile I'm just standing there
Holding my tongue trying to talk like this
Till I stuck my tongue on that frozen stop sign poll at 8 years old
I learned my lesson then cause I wasn't tryin to impress my friends no more
But I already told you my whole life story
Not just based on my description
Cause where you see it from where you're sitting
It's probably 110% different
I guess we would have to walk a mile
In each others shoes, at least
What size you wear?
I wear tens
Let's see if you can fit your feet

[Chorus]
In my shoes, just to see
What it's like, to be me
All be you, let's trade shoes
Just to see what It'd be like to
Feel your pain, you feel mine
Go inside each others mind
Just to see what we find
Look at shit through each others eyes

But don't let 'em say you ain't beautiful
They can all get fucked. Just stay true to you so
Don't let 'em say you ain't beautiful
They can all get fucked. Just stay true to you

Lately I've been hard to reach
I've been too long on my own
Everybody has a private world
Where they can be alone...
Are you calling me, are you trying to get through
Are you reaching out for me, I'm reaching out for you

Yea... To my babies. Stay strong. Dad will be home soon
And to the rest of the world, god gave you the shoes
That fit you, so put em on and wear em
And be yourself man, be proud of who you are
Even if it sounds corny,
Don't ever let no one tell you, you ain't beautiful

Most Frequently Asked Question

One question almost everyone asks me is, "What's jail like?"

Well, it's nothing like what you see on TV. Not where I was at anyway. Sure there's gay guys or guys that turned gay in there, but in low security and camps (camps have the lowest security, there's not even a fence surrounding the complex), rape isn't a common thing.

So what is jail like? Fucking boring. Day in and day out, you have nothing to look forward to. Only thing that keeps inmates going are letters, and our fifteen minute phone calls.

When I first got sent to the low security prison in Allenwood, PA, the first thing that came to mind was that it looked like a college campus. Except for the multiple fences, guard towers, and razorwire lol. But besides that, the grass was nicely manicured, there were four units with a few hundred inmates in each.

Despite the appearances though, there were some major differences with life on the outside.

The way phone calls work there is, you get fifteen minutes at a time, every hour. Each call, if it's long distance (which all of mine were), costs a little over $3. Do the math, goddamn I missed my cell phone.

Commissary is our own little private store. How lucky. You can spend a total of $220 a month max. Every inmate has an account that people in the real world deposit money into.

What's interesting is that mackerels (in plastic packages) cost $1.05, and these macks were used as currency amongst the inmates. Or anything of value. Bartering was the norm. For the less fortunate inmates who didn't have money in their commissary account, they found money in other ways, by doing chores for people, gambling, drawing, etc. And they got paid generally with macks.

You can also buy a glorified ink cartridge at commissary for use as a pen. It was literally an ink cartridge with some rubber around it, which made it flexible. Do you know how fucking hard it is to write with that shit?? So what a lot of inmates did was take a shaver, break off the razor part, then the remainding handle has some space on the back where you can lodge the "pen" in and use that. A huge improvement, but after hours of writing, the calluses I ended up with were huge as well.

The TV room was an area I avoided. It's a room with about 7-8 TV sets, and you use your Walkman to tune in to the proper one to listen. Chairs were available to place wherever you wanted to sit. Now, the catch is, I was told that some people, having been there for many years, have their designated "seats." And they would come up to you and tell you to move. It's a lose-lose situation. You fight (whether you win the fight or not), you get sent to the hole (solitary) and your security level goes up and off to the medium you go. You change seats and you're a bitch. So I just didn't watch a lot of TV.

The entire prison complex is on lockdown all day long. It opens up for ten minutes every hour for inmates to move between buildings. But you can only be in certain areas if you have a pass, or you'll be considered out of bounds. This took a little bit to get used to, because if you missed it, you were stuck wherever you were for another hour.

We slept in 9x9 cubes, shared by three people. All of my belongings fit in a 4ft tall dresser, the most fashionable clothing we had was what we could buy from commissary. Sweat pants, sweatshirt, and surprisingly, Nike Air Force Ones (or New Balance sneakers) lol. I bought a pair to wear out, that I still have lol.

Microwaves were used to cook. And man, people can get creative. Spaghetti with macks, cheese and some seasoning thrown into the microwave, that shit was actually pretty damn good. Okay I admit, relatively good.

Speaking of food, I've been told from various sources who worked kitchen detail, that the meat they served us was usually expired. By years. Whenever I changed facilities, my stomach had to readjust and I couldn't hold my food for a couple weeks until it did. The same happened when I came back to NYC, eating good, clean food lol.

Some inmates went on dates with Fifi. Who's Fifi you ask? No, not another inmate, but it's some MacGuyver type of shit. They would take a towel, roll it up in a cylinder shape, take a surgical glove and shove it into one of the sides, and secure the glove on the outside by flipping it over. Some baby oil, and voila, you have a night with Fifi. Or however many minutes they took lol.

It's very race oriented. My first day there, every asian person I saw told me that if I needed anything to let them know. Extra clothes, newer stuff, anything that they would have spares of since they're already settled in.

Gambling is illegal, so most card games are played for pushups. There is a gambling ring in there anyway, employing other inmates who could fight as its collectors.

Every inmate had to work. Most of the work there is bullshit, except for one job which pays $70 a month, and that was community work that I'm pretty sure the prison got paid for. My job (which consisted of cleaning the recreation area at the end of each shift) paid a little over $5 a month. Yeah. A month.

For the most part, shit is just boring though. Wake up, go work, eat lunch, workout, work, eat dinner, write letters, hopefully read letters, make some calls, talk to a couple people, cook something in a microwave, talk or draw or write some more, read, play cards... that's about it. If we get bored enough we sometimes make up games too lol.

That's it in a nutshell. Oh yeah some guy went by the name of Precious. He walked, talked, and had all the mannerisms of a ghetto hoodrat lol.

Much better than MDC Brooklyn, boot camp, or solitary, but it still sucked. Oh well, nothing beats being free lol =)