"Times have changed. Our kids are getting worse. They won't obey their parents they just want to fart and curse.
Should we blame the teachers? Or blame society? Or should we blame the images on TV? NO! Blame Canada! Blame Canada!
It seems that everything's gone wrong since Canada came along! Blame Canada...shame on Canada! ..they're not even a real country anyway." - "Blame Canada" Residents of South Park. (Sigh..yes, again.)
"Your karma is fucked up. I'm watching out for falling pianos." - Demps
OK. So maybe it is.
My passport arrived one day...ONE DAY after my plane took off for Paris.
Now, most people would look outward. Blame the government. Say it was an act of God.
"Wasn't meant to be..."
"Everything happens for a reason..."
"If it don't fit...don't force it."
All of these little sayings are designed to make you feel better about things that are "beyond your control". Perfectly designed to help you forget what went wrong...and instead, keep going with hope and faith that it's "not your fault". And I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart...from everyone who offered it. They were just trying to make me feel better by convincing me this whole thing was out of my hands and not my fault.
...When it just might be.
Now I'm not saying the passport office had their shit together...because they didn't. However, I could have had my passport expidited in case of unforseen circumstances. Ahem. I thought about it...but didn't think I'd have to. Slightly over confident...you think? Lesson learned.
Not to mention karma. You may not believe in it, but I do..and I can't lie, it hasn't been squeaky. I don't kick cats (I just move them with my foot) and I've stopped publically bashing Tom Jones, but I've also stopped doing positive things lately. I actually thought I had the karma thing back on track, but I can see I'm going to have to roll up the sleeves...again.
That's right. Another race. (Hey..it worked last time.)
The Lincoln Tunnel Challenge 5k on April 22nd.
1..it benefits the Special Olympics (which gives me DOUBLE kudos because I'm not directly connected or effected by this cause) and 2...
Ummm...how cool is it to run the Lincoln Tunnel?!!!
But wait...there's more.
The drivers license thing. (Monday, permit test. Yeah, I know you don't believe me. Just watch.)
And the health thing. (I began a very intense detox. Not getting into details but it's not pretty...or pleasantly fragrant.)
All these things and another really important step.
Take a look at the people around me. Haven't exactly been surrounded by positivity lately, and laugh if you want, but I think that negativity fog has been seeping into my world...like "The Nothing" from "The Neverending Story".
...and right about now, I could use a Luck Dragon like a muthafucker.
Now one thing I do know. You can't change anyone...you can only change yourself. So I'm fixin' to do just that.
I've got one week off from work...and one week to do some good making-over before my Thirty-(wow...) fouth (ouch) birthday.
Not a lot of time, but hey. If the world can be built out of nothing in six days, I can change my vida loca in seven.
(..Six, if I'm as gangsta as I think I am.)
On another note... how much money would you spend to find out who you really are?
For someone who may be adopted or...I don't know..Black...this is life altering. It's something other cultures take for granted, I think. They know their heritage...where they come from. So it's easy to take pride in that and in themselves.
And if you think about it, self love has a lot to do with knowing who you are.
I want to be able to say, "I come from from _________________."
And yes..I know. It's Africa. But that's way too damn generic.
That's like a white person being satisfied with "My people come from Europe."
So that's another thing I'm aiming to find out this week. Where I belong.
...belong.
Wow.
The ideaI is...well, pretty mind-blowing. And terrifying. And, pretty damn emotional.
I've purchased a DNA test that will tell me exactly where in Africa my anscestors are from.
My mother was born in Virgina, but she's not "Virginian".
My father's family is from "St. Kitts", but they got there, from where?
(Africa. Sure...but WHERE? What tribe? What people were we taken from?)
Once I find out...instead of my story being, "I'm half black and half Carribean..."
The story suddenly becomes, "My ancestors come from ___________, Africa. They were stolen from their land, and brought to the Carribean and America to work as slaves for hundereds of years. Eventually, my mother's side settled in Virginia, and my father's in New York. My mother's family then moved to New York...and here I am."
It's a great fucking story. I just need to fill in the blank.
And so, for my birthday this year....I could care less about cake or drinking or expensive gifts.
I'm going to find out who I am.
And what I'm made of.
...and see "The Lion King".
Because it's up there with Paris on my "things I want to see" list. Since I'll be here, why not?
As for Paris, don't cry for me Argentina.
I'll get there...exactly when I'm supposed to.
...but I think I want to go to Thailand first. (You know I'm not kidding...don't you?)
-Nye
Oh. And on my birthday, I want good pizza (no less than three toppings with at least two of them coming from a pig) and cold beer. Really cold fucking beer.
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