I went with my girlfriend a week ago to the American Museum of Natural History near Central Park (NYC), mainly to watch the movie Colossal Collisions with the voice of Robert Redford (wondrous, really). and it just got me to thinking about our place on this Earth. For all that we clutter our lives with, the politics, debates, bills, social life, anger, hate, and yes, even love and / or lack thereof, we also forget how really infinitesimally small we are compared to the rest of the universe, and even the galaxy. Thus, it’s imperative for us to also keep everything in perspective, even whilst the universe changes all around us.

I think of this today in light of my cousin’s mother’s death. Though I don’t believe I’ve ever actually met her mother, my heart sank when I heard the tragic news. Death is as serious as it gets for us, and what’s more, my cousin came to celebrate life (a birthday) rather than death. This cousin’s been like a sister to me, and to know that this long-time struggle with her mother’s health has come to this, hurts hard. It’s put my own relationship with my mother in perspective, with the tension we’ve had. In light of this recent death, the overall feelings for my mother is that I love her; none of our clashes can compare to that understanding.

Something Robert Redford said caught my attention somewhere between me wondering how they put this production together, and that’s the fact we look at all the major collisions that have happened in our universe, some insignificant and routine while others looked disastrous and cataclysmic. Yet, these collisions also produced Earth, and the Moon, and the universe around us, creating beauty and life all around us. Maybe we can take something away from the much larger celestial beings, as we too clash and burn, and how often, even when it seems the stars above us seem distant, they’re just like us in our rudimentary behaviors.

jose, who often theorizes on humans’ gravitational pull …

I once heard of a young man who thought so critically, and was so intelligent, he had to wear headphones just to tranquilize him. As if the thoughts he had in his head wouldn’t even let him socialize normally with others. I can only imagine how loud he had to put his headphones just to drown out those thoughts about the world. Confucius once said that the more you know, the more you realize you know nothing, but I add, that the more you think you know, the more inclined you are to ignore the human aspects of the things you know. It’s more than the “ignorance is bliss” conjecture; it’s the inability to go out and enjoy the one life we’re given (or for some of you, the life that you’re given presently).

Sometimes, we’re so encumbered with being the deepest thinker, the best polemicist, or the most potent orator that we forget to feel something for another. Many would recall how I rode on a high horse for the majority of my college career, in part because of the influences around me and their high expectations for every and anything, but also it was a personal crusade to change the way people thought. While it was well-intentioned, it was also taxing to my intimate life, and often while I thought I was giving the proper motivation to some, I was really demoralizing them. Sometimes I would avoid dealing with some issues in favor of this greater goal for some common good.

I think of my ex-roommate Howard, whose now doing really well for himself in the greater Boston area. We seemed like polar opposites. He was neat, I was a little messy. He was mostly Republican, and I was liberal, but bordering on anarchism. He focused on his school work hard, and I focused on my extra-curricular activities. He lived in the Syracuse area for the majority of his life, and I was from NYC. He owned most of Master P’s CD collection, and I couldn’t stand Master P except for “Make Em Say Uhhhh!” Oh yeah, and he’s White and I’m a Black –Latino.

While I was out there protesting, calling people on their crap, reading up on every and anything related to the Ma’at and the Maa’fa (i.e. the African Slave Trade / Holocaust), organizing events, petitioning to become the education chair (and de facto president) of La LUCHA, and speaking out against White privilege in clandestine meetings, I was also having deep conversations with Howard about love (and lack thereof), sports, and even politics. As these conversations became more frequent during our senior year, I saw how much of my misdirected anger at people who also have their own battles really hurt my arguments for unity and peace. For every time I got angry because I barely made it financially at SU, I also had to check myself, because his family had to work just as hard without the benefits of financial aid. With some of the knuckleheads we had on campus, he might have had an argument for wondering why he didn’t get their financial aid since they were wasting it.

We’re there in our living room, maybe playing NBA Street, or wondering what our then girlfriends thought of us, but we’re there learning lessons about people we may not have known as much about. At times, we went through some struggles getting adjusted to each other’s lifestyles, but that’s what growing looks like. I taught him a little about how to stay on beat, and he gave me my first glass of Blue Moon, my favorite beer on Earth. We weren’t Jack and Cola, or Crockett and Tubbs, but out of the few roommates I have had, he’s probably my favorite.

I couldn’t have arrived at that point if I stuck with my often divisive extremism. I still protested, and held my ground on many issues related to racism, economic stratification, sexism, etc., but I also grew, considering the other person’s experiences and valuing their own humanity. I don’t believe in compromising one’s self for the sake of pleasing others. But there is something to be said for the man (or woman) who can mature and delve deeper into the human experience before he / she says something they don’t understand.

When we think about Human Rights in this or any country, the first step in becoming an advocate for social change is to look at oneself. Understand more thoroughly where you’re coming from and how the experiences you’ve had have molded you into the person you are. Once that’s settled, then other people’s arguments become easier to analyze. You won’t necessarily agree, but it’s much more imperative to listen and understand than to walk around with a pair of headphones, guarding you from your own fear and thus your humanity …

Jose, who along with Wayne, acknowledges Human Rights Day today …

Cold Stone Creameries, Saturday.Michael Jackson blaring through the stereos above while some kids dance to it.

I’m chillin’ with my girl, scooping up on Cookie Doughn’t You Want Some and bragging to his girl about being a thriller in the sack.

A trip afterwards to the Virgin Megastore, and along the way, me giving pound to a dreaded VJ by the name of Sway while “The Bridge Is Over” by Boogie Down Productions played outside.

Stupid and simple moments like these make me believe that life has a purpose, no matter what the purpose was, and if it doesn’t, then let me not ruminate on its existence and use the time to live it to the fullest.

George Clooney helps me think on this some more through his role as Michael Clayton in the movie with the same title. On the one hand, we will readily sell out the next human being for millions beyond our necessity. On the other hand, we have people who will risk death (and life) to uproot these deft villains of human rights and liberties. Are these villains simply that evil or is it because they’ve ascended so high into the economic stratosphere that they’ve lost the ability to do the things normal people do, like breathe?

Naturally, this message became clear right after, when my girl wanted to have a little late-night conversation over at the Europa Cafe near Times Square. At first, we were a little wary after seeing all these Black and Latino youth surrounding the area in packs, something we hadn’t seen in that specific area since we started dating.  Then, it became especially weird when the front of the cafe had a line of dudes in the front, and I had to cut right through them. They were in some hostile formation I recognized from my own neighborhood. Something was amiss.

After sipping on my hot chocolate and her on her tea, we noticed the cafe closing at 1am, again unprecedented, but they seemed to be in a rush to move everyone out of their establishment. A busboy guarded the door, letting no one in while we heard sirens go off. A few minutes later, we heard more sirens go off, and as I turn and peek into 42nd St., there’s a blockade formed by the police. Imagine: one of the busiest streets on Earth completely emptied of anyone but cops. My first thought was, “We need to get to a train.” Then it became, “Fuck that; we need a taxi!”

I turned around, and the same boys and girls crowding the area had friends whose hands were bloodied. One young man had his hands completely red, and I did my best not to stare.

BANG BANG BANG!!!

Shots go off, and I immediately get into hood mode. I take my girl into the taxi, and we ride off into 34th, and I literally yelled at the taxi to move as quickly as possible.  The first thought that crossed into my mind was, “Why does this happen, even in parts where no one’s causing any problems?” Then it became more about the teenagers themselves, and why even in those settings, they were still prone to violent behavior? Is it because that’s the only way they’ve been taught how to act or because they have such a lack of self-worth that they have no problem even ridiculing how they’re going to shoot someone to death than keeping that promise?

That ate at my conscience for a while. I woke up, still a little tense from the previous night’s events. Then Sunday happened, and I remembered why I liked humans again. We’re prone to failure. We cheat, steal, lie, and even make dumb grammatical errors we have no business making. Thus, the best of us try to elevate those situations, even as we wallow in our misery. The best of us fight that feeling to give up on each other, even when we lose ourselves in a greater human cause.

On Sunday, I awoke, went to the gym, and wanted to go to the ALM’s house. I got on the bus, and of course, I would get the bus driver who’d never been on the route in his life. He made the wrong turn, so as he’s trying to get back on his route, we knew what was coming. He surpasses the first obstacle of making that first left. Then he tries to make that second left, and CLANK! The bus (an elongated bus with 8 wheels or so) hits a car in the back. He tries to step out, and CLANK! He hits another car. 7 people depart from the bus, leaving only the brave few.

So people who could have been the fathers and older brothers of the same people in the previous night’s scuffle came out and tried to help the bus driver (a Joel Klein doppelganger) out, and within 20 minutes and a little direction from me, that’s what happened. I didn’t make it to the ALM’s house, but there is the triumph of the human spirit. These men had nothing to lose, and in other situations, they’d laugh or scream at the bus driver for not knowing his route. We jeered him for a bit, but after a couple of car crashes and some screeches, we went into action.

Damn.

Not that these stories had anything to do with the Giants win. We can’t expect people to come from so much high expectation and adversity like Eli Manning, and for everyone to have a Tiki Barber, a friend turned enemy who threw him under the bus at every chance he got, or even a Jeremy Shockey, who attacked him about leadership, making snide remarks. But imagine after everything Eli’s been through, he still found 50+ guys behind him, and some coaches in front, who believed he was their guy. They’d lay out anyone and everyone for him, because as he goes, they go too. If he’s the underdog, then they’d be his fortress. And a small collective of Giants fans who actually believed in Eli since the first day, through his struggles and losses rejoiced at their apparent stubbornness.

After conquering the Goliath that was the New England Patriots, my cousin calls me on the phone, screaming and almost in tears over the win. I yelled along with him, a primal scream acknowledging the weekend that was. Even in the most insurmountable odds, the triumph of the human spirit can prevail. It takes a little ass-kicking and some serious inspiration to make that. There’s no one word to describe how events so contradictory and yet so meaningful meld into a full 72 hours of a human experience.

Heart.

Struggle.

Love.

Triumph.

Yeah … something like that.

jose, who still hasn’t done the “Why I Teach” post, but will get on it tomorrow …

A few weekends ago, I went to AnnMary’s crib, where I got to see Ray and my godson, Josiah. He’s a little browner now (as in more brown, people), and has got the ill forehead. It’s adorable how he’s got a big head like his father and his godfather. I told AnnMary that we might make this baby tri-lingual: English, Cantonese, and Spanish. He’d also learn merengue by at least pre-kindergarten from his own godfather ::ahem::, making him a certifiable ladykiller by 6 years old. At first, we laughed it off, but then she said something peculiar: “No, he’s not leaving me. I’ll always love him, and he doesn’t need any other women. Right Jo-Jo? You only need your mommy, yes you do.”

I can’t blame AnnMary; she’s the mom and that’s what moms usually say. Innocent mothers avoid that Oedipal complex as much as their sons do in their youth, but it’s rather unavoidable in its many forms. Our mothers are the first women we fall in love with. As gross as it sounds, it’s the first womb we come out of, and the first sexual encounter we have. Hence, it’s only right that mothers think of themselves as their sons’ first love. Yet, that mentality also creates a false sense of loyalty that inevitably puts most men in a dichotomous relationship between the “main woman” and the “other woman,” even if that “other woman” is not necessarily a romantic relationship.

It usually starts well past the aunts, female cousins, and friends’ moms because they usually pose no threat. He may look towards them sometimes and fancy whether they might make a better parent for them. They may even inspire visions of fornication in his youth, but usually the boy runs right back to his mother. The treat to the relationship between mother and son is that first girl that the boy likes. The mother’s there with her eagle eye, smiling with her full grin, but also shaping how the boy should think about the girl. Usually, the mother’s there giving sound advice on being a gentleman and just asking about his whereabouts, but implicitly letting him know that she’s the first woman, even when she doesn’t recognize it at first.

But the boy gets comfortable, and sees more than one woman, and that’s when the mother tries to pull in the reigns, which causes an equal and opposite reaction from the boy who starts to see his romantic life as a chance to cheat on his first relationship with his mother. That’s why most guys don’t give details of their whereabouts to their mother. The uncanny part is, the mother can pretty much tell all along what’s happening with his son; after all, taking residence in one’s womb for 9 months lets mothers psychologically hook up to the dude’s mental computer.

Once the boy gains some footing, and the mother realizes that her son’s grown up and out of that first relationship, they enter a new relationship where the mother’s still an adviser, but no longer the first woman. He has a relationship, which of course adds to the old axiom “You can tell how he’s going to treat you by how he treats his mother.” Yet, it’s the mother who he runs to for relationship advice, which of course explains, for some of you ladies, why your ex would come back to you and tell you their relationship problems. Even in the relationship, both women (whoever those two happen to be at the point) always make the man choose, and usually at the expense of the other.

Then of course comes the issue of cheating. All these conjectures I’ve made make me wonder if the idea of always having two women to be beholden to may contribute to the idea of cheating. We can always reason it all out by saying that a mother’s love is different from a girlfriend’s love, but indeed we learned the second by the first. We also think about how, after that mother’s love has changed during the growing phases, who fills in the role of the second woman? While we’ve all speculated the many ways a man would cheat, we never really speculate the myriad of reasons it happens.

And really, as a man, the only way to distract yourself from this onerous act of human behavior is to

1) immerse yourself in a non-human love (i.e. your artwork, poetry, etc.)
2) reasoning that the one you’re with is really the best option and there’s no need for anyone else
or
3) starting a family, knowing that the person you’re with might bear fruit to a daughter who will permanently fill in the role of the second lady. Not so much in a perverted way, but love nonetheless. And so begins the cycle of the Electra complex.

I’ve personally observed this with other men too often (not so much me, though I can see hints of this in my own life), and it’s eerie how they treat their girlfriends, and then treat their mothers after having seen them with their mothers over the years. At least their main women. Many dudes who treat their women like crap tend to have a frustrating relationship with their moms, while dudes who never had a mother around shut down so quickly after they get their heart broken.

Then again, little Jo-Jo doesn’t have to worry about that just yet. He can revel in random women pinching his cheeks and wanting to hold him in their bosoms while the men in the family laugh or get jealous at all that attention. And if anything, he knows he’s always got his mother’s love.

jose, who is sure to get a million and one questions, but this is strictly not a conjecture and not based on scientific research … unless someone has scientific research, then I welcome it, thanks …

p.s. - criticisms are welcome, too. i wrote this post over only a few hours of sleep …

I feel like I’m exposing myself a bit with what I’m about to post, but I’m a big believer in astrology. I don’t necessarily believe in all the astrologers out there with the light-up snow globes and gypsy-inspired wardrobe. However, I can’t help but believe that if the moon has such a strong influence on the bodies of water around the Earth, then as bodies of water, we too will inevitably be influenced by the moon, the stars, the planets around us, and yes, even the Earth’s environment. We’re all bodies of water, and the exact moment we’re born at can give us clues as to how we’ll behave. It sounds like hogwash on the surface, but my experience only tells me the opposite. Check what Wikipedia says about Aquarians like me:

The Aquarius person is unconventional, detached, intellectual, objective, individualistic, inventive, unique, easygoing, sophisticated, future-oriented, friendship-oriented, humanitarian, cause-oriented, believes in groups and society, playful, friendly, spontaneous, caring, devoted, trend setter, liberal, understanding, energetic, tolerant, benevolent, charming, patient, free-spirited, independent, open-minded, and progressive. They can also sometimes be unpredictable, dogmatic, cold, mean, over-permissive, aloof, rebellious, stubborn, eccentric, erotic, undependable, self-oriented, self-centered, unable to commit, judgmental, fickle and elitist …

*** The ones in bold I definitely agree with, the ones that are underlined I’m trying to improve, and the ones in italic make me laugh (in a “that’s so not me” way). ***

I don’t look to horoscopes and the like to tell me how to live, but this is as accurate a description as I’d get about myself. Trying to understand oneself is paramount to becoming the best person one can be. I particularly started thinking about this after I read The Unapologetic Mexican’s post about Benazir Bhutto, and especially focused on the following:

PERHAPS the most obvious admission that a person can make stating that they are personally incapable of changing the world’s destiny with their own abilities and gifts and unique vision is to simply take the life of those who make it their mission to do so.

That coupled with the plethora of discussions I’ve had with my friends and family about everything from the Zeitgeist and Revelations to Iraq, 9/11, and 2012 really has me thinking about how my own actions affect the world around me. Because of how society’s structured and how minuscule we’ve been taught to perceive ourselves in contrast to time and space, I often think whether my actions even matter.

Then I realize, “Fuck yeah they do.”

As a person in progress, I think about how a small group of bankers could influence the whole world to make the American dollar into the world’s most popular currency, how only a couple of people writing things down on paper made for all the pervasive ideas of our day from religion and light theory to evolution and government, and how even a small amount of people sparked the rules of engagement for our own beliefs. Even if all the major people we’ve ever believed in like Malcolm X, Jesus, Gandhi, da Vinci, Darwin, Mother Teresa, or Bhutto had a huge collective of people behind them making sure their ideas gained traction in our minds, that was a small percentage compared to the many more who stayed at home, scared to take a risk or a chance on what would eventually change human civilization as they knew it.

Of course, that comes with its pitfalls. There are those who want to keep civilization the way it is. Most people are averse to change, even if they too will benefit. We’ve had “accidents” and assassinations abound, and these plans usually came to fruition with prior knowledge from that person. Yet, these influential people know they’re risking life and love for the benefit of humankind, knowing that their works at some point and time will inspire the next generation of thinkers and society shapers.

So every year, I sit at the precipice of another 365.25 days go by, and wonder whether what I’ve done has had the greatest impact on my world it could have. I’m still working on my personal issues (for more, check the italics above), but I know I wasn’t meant to sit idly by while everything around us goes to crap. Some of my friends believe that the Earth will eventually resolve everything on its own as it has over the last 4.5 or so billion years, but that goes back to the idea of complacency: is our sitting down and letting things happen part of the solution or the problem? What do we contribute if we think we’re so small we can’t do anything?

Or do we? Even for my educators, what do we do besides our jobs? Are we doing anything while we’re doing our jobs to make our children feel like they’re more than destined for the proletariat? I’m not sure, but while we’re about 150 years away from the dawning of the Age of Aquarius, this Aquarian’s dawning will come sooner than that.

jose, who only writes long entries when he believes in it, and he believes in this one …

p.s. - I love that “Sweetest Girl (Remix)” with Wyclef, Akon, Lil’ Wayne, Raekwon, and Niia. I thought the original was OK, but not good enough to download. This song reminds me of the mid-90’s. Yep.

Everyone’s abuzz over the latest Will Smith world-savior flick I Am Legend, and I’m pretty sure if America had to pick 3 people to save the world, he’d be on the ballot a good 75% of the time. The movie itself played well with Will’s ability to characterize paranoia and courage all at once. Of course, others want to pontificate about the racial components of the movie like how the main character’s a Black man even though in the book it’s a white man, and how it’s a Black man saving the world from a white woman’s ruin, or even how the first person on Earth was of African descent, and it’s a Black man that starts the world over again. OK, maybe I thought that covertly, but that’s only because they played Bob Marley’s “Redemption Song” at the end of the movie.

I think the more important message in the movie was that we need to be careful with these newfound technologies. I recently wrote about how computers might take over the human race as the supreme beings on this Earth, but if we make small mistakes in this mad rush to find the next great placebo or get on the cover of Time / Life, then somewhere along the line, someone will mess up on a cataclysmic level. With all the social ills we have already, I can’t imagine the steep price we pay for the short term suppresants. Even throughout this year, the constant recalls of specific medications and other manufactured items should make us raise an eyebrow: we might get cured of one problem, but get a new set of problems we didn’t expect.

And of course, this is more than just thought based on movies like I Am Legend and I-Robot, but something I’ve contemplated since I even started getting meds for everything from the common cold to acne. Everything keeps changing and they give these complicated chemicals pretty, easily-pronounced, and commercial names, but are they real improvements or just another way for the medical industry to cash in on human beings’ natural fear of death? Sometimes, I fear it’s the former, and we’re in an irreversible course towards that doom.

Then again, when you have opinions this radical, you tend to feel very isolated and ostracized. Making connections and inferences based on what you observe and the facts presented to you can often lead you to stay in your office for days trying to find a cure to these ills. It can drive you insane, and keep your inner circle really tight. You’ll lose your mind before you lose some of the other important things in your life. You may even experience a sense of G_dlessness, and that’s where you might find your true sense of duty. And that’s when you find the cure, but only then. By then, it’s a little late to return to normalcy.

Then again, that might mean that you’re legend, too …

jose, who wonders why this movie took over 13 years to get into theatres …