I May Be Chronic School Goer.

Not the good kind.
Although if there were a university that taught about the miraculous properties of chronic, I would likely take at leeeeeast one class.

But no.
I'm talking regular ass school. I guess I do remember saying at some point in my life "I love school. If I could just go to school for the rest of my life and have somebody pay for it I would." Oh, the power in the word. Well, so far nobody else is paying...but somebody might.

I need to change up my sentences. "I love cash. If I could just get cash for the rest of my life and only do what I wanted I would." I wonder how many time I'd have to say that. And if I could use The Secret. Or, if I'd mean it as much as when I said that other bullsh*t above.

Man.
If I end up in school forever I'm gon be pissed! Smart. But pissed. I got ish to do son.

I'm poseta be 'cordin' dammit.

Ramblings I found on my computer...2007

It’s a culmination of everything circulating in my brain.
Mostly bad.
The kind of stuff that brings you to tears, but stops right before you get the full benefit of release.
You end up with headaches from holding all that in.
I looked wide-eyed, mainly from trying to hold everything in,
at the bewildered fulfillment on a bunch of blank faces.
Everyone feigned happiness and those being true were invisible to my eye.
I was melting from all of the smiles.
I just wanted to die.
Wondering who was going to give me away and dance with me when it was our turn.
I though “I guess my brother can do it’, but he’s a baby. He always will be.
He missed a major portion of my life, therefore making it impossible for him to talk about my growth.
I thought about my mom who is obviously the most realistic choice,
but she certainly is no father.
It just wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t fair.
He talked about her and I was mad.
I never thought I would be mad. It didn’t make sense.
My head was hurting from holding it in so I drank more and smiled.
And smiled.
And smiled.
Until I had to be excused so I could get high and drink some more without being watched.
Imploding never seemed so intriguing but I felt like is was my only out.
Going in.

doth i trip?

is it "variations on Kami's outfit day?"

EVE - SPRING 2007 - BIG BUDGET MUSIC VIDEO

is eve dancing now?

KAMI JONES - SPRING 2006 - NO BUDGET PROMO VIDEO


FROM THE ZEBRA TO THE LEOPARD.

HANG ME OUT TO DRY. U wrung me out too too too many times...

They don't know about the bottom.

What? They don't.

Oreo Cheesecake.

I'm absolutely bored with myself. And the question is "how could I be?" Especially since I have a grandiose amount of shit to do. As i type, I should be at the bank...it IS closing in a minute.

Which reminds me, I don't understand this whole check thing. Like, the fact that when I look in my mailbox, I no longer see any. It really pisses me off. I know there was a time in my life where I saw checks in my mailbox with my name on them, and I don't necessarily understand why or at which point this stopped occuring. I would like to file a complaint, but I'm not sure who to call. If anybody has any ideas, please let me know.

My suggestion is to not smoke weed. For those that don't won't heed cuz they need weed, my next suggestion would be NOT to smoke and then place yourself in an establishment where oreo cheesecake is sold. It's just a dumb idea. I'm all down with learning from other peoples mistakes, and not playing myself like one before me. I would definitely take this into consideration when faced with the question of whether or not to smoke. As stated previously, if you're decision IS to place the joint, or blunt, or garcia, or cone, or white owl, or whatever upon your lips, I would further urge you NOT to proceed to any shop where Oreo Cheesecake is sold. I know this isn't a good idea because it happened to me. I am currently feeling nauseous simply due to a stupid mistake. I attempted to eat the entire thing. I do not feel that this is right. I wish I was bolemic. Life at this moment would be soooo much easier.

Peace.

The Wrinkled White Chick On The Train Today...

So I'm on my way to class at Columbia University Graduate School of Arts & Sciences (this will be relevant as you continue to read) and the 1 train wasn't running local. Everyone had to get off the train and walk, or ride to 145th st. from 96th st. and take the local back the other way. Myself and many others decided to get off at 96th st.

As I was about to go down the stairs, I noticed a wrinkled white lady staring in my direction...she had on really dark sunglasses so I couldn't see her eyes. Her face was only about a foot away from me, so I could see that she was clearly staring at my head...she mumbled to herself for a while, and continued to do so as she walked down the crowded stairs. When I got to the last step, I walked around her crazy ass to go up another staircase...

This wrinkled white chick proceeds to come behind me and say:

"You illiterate bitch. You went to school and forgot to graduate didn't you? You illiterate bitch. You think you're so important. My glasses cost more than your whole outfit, you illiterate bitch. I don't know where you're from. You look like a monkey, you illiterate bitch...blah blah blah, monkey, bitch, monkey bitch, glasses bitch, monkey..."

Quite interesting. Being a glasses connoisseur, I found myself squinting to see whether they were Chanel's, rather than listening to her monkey comments...They weren't. The pride she had in her glasses almost made me want to give away my stupid Gucci collection so that I could take pride in never having succumb to purchasing designer sh*t...I said ALMOST...but I really do just love the way their damn glasses fit...Moving on, I looked at her, agreed, laughed a little, and thought "you got me there." Initially, I was going to respond...then I thought about the fabulous glasses in my bag, my mac laptop I was carrying to go to my class at Columbia University as a Grad Student in the Anthropology program, etc., and I said to myself "do I really care?" I say that to show it doesn't really matter what we dress ourselves in or what we do...they still think we're poor illiterate niggers. So we should save our money! HA! No, seriously. I couldn't think of any good reason to try to prove myself to this vintage woman, so I proceeded to laugh at her and agree. I actually found it quite amusing to see the white people cringe at their crazy counterpart, while the monkey-looking black girl laughed and kept walking. She followed me up the stairs and to the corner saying "you illiterate bitch" to the point where the white people were like, "shut uuuuuup!" It was amusing.

White people:
If you have made it this far in this bulletin, this should give you a prime example of why black people have so many issues with white folk. It's not that we go out looking for racist white people to hate. Racist white people present themselves regularly (becoming way more enjoyable when you don't respond). If you believe you are not a racist, then you should make it your job to educate your people. So many of you think we exaggerate when we talk about racism...well kids...it's alive and well...So come get your auntie.

Laters.