Oh, how I remember (the dream is very well alive).

Adventures can be fun.

Like today, for example, we went on an adventure looking for brunch spots to celebrate a best friend’s belated birthday. But thanks to my (lack thereof) phenomenal planning, every place we found had 90876324+ hour wait times. So after three attempts, we settled on a search result from social media claiming a place to be 4.5 stars out of 5 and had appetizing photos of their food. We drove up to what we thought was the location, with closed or run down stores around us; pavement and road cracked to hell, and a majority of beat down cars parked all around us.

“Where is it?”
“Where are we?”
“It says it’s right…”

“…there.”

Naturally, as someone who naturally sees everything through a cinematic lens, I laughed at the site and the situation of our expectation for a millenial/pinterest-chic/Instagram haven/foodie-centric looking restaurant being crushed. But long story short, the food was enjoyable, going with the logic of (rough looking) hole in the wall places having the best food.

I’d say they’re good! If you’re ever in San Antonio, Texas…

But the adventure I’m writing about is the one about my doubts and fears and uncertainties and hopeful wishes and hopeless cries into the night questioning if what I’m doing is what I’m supposed to be doing and if I’m happy or just trying to convince myself I’m happy or just faking it till I make it because that’s one of the most traumatizing memorable lines I took with me after leaving Los Angeles.

Me leaving LA, despite knowing I have to come back and conquer it.

We ended our journey with board games at another best friend’s place. Later on, their family came back home and the young niece started baking. I recalled how for every time I was over she’d bake and I was always charmed at the sight of her passion and happiness. I hoped she would hold onto that youthful passion and possibly pursue it when she grew older, or to at least never fall jaded to the idea of baking.

Then (naturally) I grew selfish/self-centered and thought about myself like I tend to do I recalled how I originally thought my (half-baked) dreams and aspirations originated from high school. I was envious at the romanticized idea of the young baker growing up to be a successful baker, and how she started off as a prodigy and that when she’s interviewed by someone about her success, she could talk about how her dreams started at a very young age.

She could also talk about her ‘alienated’ childhood and her pilgrimage to Hawaii to flee persecution. And how she befriends a little girl named Lilo.

But my dreams came from a very young age, too. I didn’t always think so, or if I did, I completely forgot about it. Sure I made silly home videos when I was in middle school and pursued student broadcasting in high school, but I always felt scatter-brained when it came to pinpointing what I wanted to be. Then I remembered I wrote a story about a cow and an alien when I was seven.

Then I remembered a story from when I was eight about two antagonistic (and sophisticated with their bows and cordial manners) cyborgs hell-bent on destroying the human race through gladiator like fighting.

And an emotional trilogy when I was twelve that saw a group of characters go through the events of a school shooting, living as a homeless teen and running from the law, and the court drama culmination of all the events that had occurred.

And a story when I was thirteen about a military brat/dependent pre-teen bothered by the opinions of students from local public schools (looking back, it was a comedy satire about sub-culture differences).

And a story when I was eleven about…okay, just imagine Jurassic Park, Resident Evil, and Terminator all mashed up into one crazy epic trilogy, yeah I wrote that (and drew attempted concept art of creatures and locations) and presented it for a sixth-grade Reading class project. It was a class favorite. And when we were assigned to act out scenes from each other’s stories, everyone wanted to do scenes from my story! But what was most important of all was how receptive my teacher was. Positively receptive.

I have a vivid memory of a parent/teacher’s open house night or some sort, and how my sixth-grade Reading teacher was telling my mother about my “knack” for storytelling. Hearing those affirmations felt enlightening and after all these years and roller coaster moments of ups and downs and even harder downs, recalling that feeling is a much-needed reaffirmation. Which is why I’m going for my Master’s in Screenwriting.

I remember writing the “school shooting drama” story when I was in eighth grade and I would give my old Reading teacher drafts in between classes. With each draft and brief moments of critique, I was giddy and juvenilely excited to work on the next draft to have her read and repeat the entire process again and again.

For once, the feelings of clarity and certainty are slightly greater than the fog of uncertainty. And with the way life has been, I’ll take slightly.

 

I’M SLIGHTLY CERTAIN I HAVE FUCKING CLARITY.

Adventures can be fun. Even when it feels like you forgot why or where you’re going, it eventually comes back to you. And if not, just keep going. 

…and smile and be happy =)

 

Swoon Me Ms. Casanova (Part 5): NICK CANNON IS HILARIOUS

I can get ratchet. “What’s that?” you ask? Well according to Urban Dictionary…

“twerk”

I swear I was black in the life before. Many of my black friends say the same about me. And I embrace it. Am I being a poser? No, because I was black in the life before. I just said that a sentence or two ago, weren’t you paying attention?

Anyways, there’s many songs that I can get ratchet to whenever they come on the radio, or stereo, or clubs PA, or anywhere really. It’s like second nature, especially for the most ratchet of ratchet songs. But this next song in my beloved SWOON ME MS. CASANOVA series is definitely not a song to be considered “ratchet.” In fact, that would be a complete insult to the fabulous, beautiful, I swear to god she’s a robot cause she looks damn young and fine still, Mariah Carey.

Her and I on our wedding night. Good times.

Mariah Carey is definitely an artist that first comes to mind when it comes to Grammy Award Winning, r&b and pop royalty, and just all around kicks ass in the music industry kinda title. With a unique voice and an almost robot like presence because oh my god she’s still lookin FINE AS FUCK NICK CANNON, of course she’d be on my all time favorite female artists list.

And before I continue, she’s 43, which isn’t old. But when it comes to entertainment, there’s a huge stigma attached to aging and “good looks.” 43 is considered to be pushing it, but hell that doesn’t matter cause DAMN SHE’S FINE.

Now which one of her 23497028963845263794234 hit songs am I absolutely in love with and would die if a girl where to sing it to me, especially if it was Mariah Carey herself?

Always Be My Baby – Mariah Carey

And don’t worry Mariah Carey, I’ll always be your baby. I promise. I mean, hi there.

I’m a lover of the throwback r&b and hip hop scene, especially old school Mariah Carey and TLC. Don’t go chasing them waterfalls. Don’t want no scrubs either. Creep.

I have to admit that I honestly forgot about this song until I heard it incorporated in a ridiculously awesome mash up. I loved and knew the song when it first came out, cause I was a cool kid like that that was self-aware. I picked up on music and pop culture at an early age. But here’s that awesome mash up.

I’m An Adler Girl – Super Mash Bros.

So. Sick.

Now I’m a musician and yes, I can actually read sheet music. I formally learned music at the age of 11 and I have knowledge and training in music theory. I bring that up because I’ve been around plenty of trained (jazz and classical) singers that downright discredit Mariah Carey. Whenever I ask them for their reasoning, it usually involves how she’s mainstream and pop and all that typical excuses and such.

And to argue against that I say…Mariah Carey is a damn good singer. Her range is ridiculous and unlike any other. In fact, it’s singers like her that I miss in music nowadays. There seems to be a sudden surge of shitty crappy singers who can’t sing for shit so instead they either talk in rhythm or sound quiet and tired as fuck that they sing so soft to the microphone and you constantly have to ask them to either sing up a little louder or down a Red Bull to give them some energy to sing and it’s not a matter of flexing their “artistic license” it’s a matter of they fucking suck at singing so instead they opt for being a “songwriter” with obscure as fuck lyrics with complex and pretentious lines and can you tell how I really hate shit singers like Lana Del Rey I mean sure, I guess she’s KINDA good looking but it’s more of like that really cute but quirky as fuck artsy girl from the art department that you think is totally cute but you can’t stand to have a conversation with because she pretty much fulfills the stereotype of the manic pixie dream girl who will more than likely screw you over like Summer, man fuck her.

Girls find this movie hilarious. Guys hate this movie because we relate to our man Joseph Gordon-Levitt (JoGoLevi, if you will). So. Much.

That rant exhausted me. Whew. So much hate. Kinda disgusting. I apologize. Not really, cause that’s how I genuinely feel about music nowadays.

Anyways, Mariah Carey. Awesome. Beautiful singer unlike any other. And fuck Nick Cannon.

Click the links below for more posts in the SWOON ME MS. CASANOVA series!

“Piano Song” and “Skinny Genes – Eliza Doolittle

“Before He Cheats” – Carrie Underwood

“Oh! Darling” – Originally by The Beatles, rendition by Sara Bareilles

“A Moment Like This” – Kelly Clarkson

America #1!!! (this is not a patriotic post)

Let’s take a look at the picture below…

Now if you’re pissed off and demanding “WHAT ARE THE SOURCES?! THIS IS UNPATRIOTIC! BLAHHHHHHH AMERICA!” calm down. If you’re laughing and saying “Yup… America” then put your fancy Harvard degree back in the collection of your “look at how much money I got to pay for elitist education.” If you’re in the middle ground saying “Yeah..I can see this being true, but seriously how about the sources?” then thank you for being moderate and I need more people like you around me.

I found this on the Facebook page Being Liberal and as a liberal minded person, I found it hilarious and slightly true, but in the process I lost a bit of hope and respect for my American peers and the opposing ideologies. Within the comment section were outcries from both sides of the spectrum, with the reoccurring statement “WHERE ARE THE SOURCES?! AMURRRICA!” being said with caps lock on high. After reading the same comments over and over again, I started to think of a rebuttal, and well…this blog post will serve as my rebuttal.

Hold on to your hats, people. Shit gonna get real, real fast.

Where are the sources? You want your sources? Walk outside your house and interact with the lovely American society. Go to your nearest mall, or shopping establishment, or restaurant. If you live in the city, then simply go to the nearest train station or bus depot. If you live in suburbia, then attend your next housing society meeting. If you live in the hick ass rural area, then drive 23408962734 hours to reach your next neighbor or shopping establishment. If you live by the beach area, then go over to the shore or pier area. Your sources are right there, in front of your eyes.

In all honesty, you don’t need numbers to prove just how bad America is in regards to all the statements made by the image. Just look around and you’ll see all the things mentioned to be slightly true, and if not, completely true. Just stepping outside of your house gives you some perspective on all of this. Hop on to any social network of your choice and boom, proof. Open up today’s newspaper and you’ll see articles validating my point. Turn on the television or the radio and you’ll see it. You’ll see the proof that you need.

True.

Oh, the liberal hippies control the media? Then please refer to what I first mentioned about STEPPING OUTSIDE YOUR HOUSE AND INTERACTING WITH THE LOVELY SOCIETY OF AMERICA. Oh, your narrow small minded unambitious and discriminating small group of family and friends don’t consist of any flaws that the image pokes fun at? Then expand your horizon and accept the fact that we live in a big world, and not only that, but a huge nation with 2340928673456234-58072986734 people that populate this lovely country. Do yourself a favor by not being so goddamn ignorant and naive, step out of your comfort zone, and TALK to other people and interact with them.

Now when I say TALK, I mean TALK WITH, not TALK AT. There’s a difference. Oh what’s that difference you ask? One is when you have a conversation without being a dick, and the other is when your’re a dick.

Now to play devil’s advocate…I do question the rape statement. Given the current unrest in some middle eastern nations, the numerous tribal and nation disputes in Africa, and other third world nations, I’m sure there are other places with higher rape counts. It’s just a matter of the rape incidents being reported or not. With those unstable nations, I’m sure there’s more rape incidents that occur and go unreported. That’s a statement I’m sure both sides could agree on.

“Haha…you’re still wrong.”

But seriously people…just look around you. Your sources are right there. And don’t deny it. Please don’t deny it because if anything, that’s what makes you look like a joke. A joke that no one can take seriously. And not only do you inflict damage upon yourself, but also the common people you associate with that share similar ideologies and beliefs. I have spent a small amount of time on both the east and west coast, but in that short amount of time I grew to become familiar with them. I went to school in the south, Florida to be specific, and I’m definitely familiar with the attitude and behavior of the people from the south. I’m not familiar with the mid-west, but I have plenty of close friends who have spent time there or who currently live there that have familiarized me with the area. I mention those things as a way to back up my my soapbox rant and to show that I don’t have a bias in regards to “you probably haven’t even been to the different parts of America, you un-American fool!”

“But America is the land of the free, Jerico. Only in America can you create a true rags to riches story for yourself. You have the freedom to be what you want to be. To say what you want to say. To do what you want to do, given that it’s not illegal. To think whatever you want to think. Our many freedoms are documented on papers drafted by our forefathers and we should be grateful for that. We should be thankful. We are free, Jerico.”

That much is true. Which is why I wrote this blog post without fear of retaliation from the government and state authority. That much I can appreciate. I have the right to an opinion and to voice my opinion through numerous platforms. I have all those rights and I cherish them, just as much as you cherish your right to stay ignorant and to prevent this nation from becoming a better place for everyone. Not just a few, but for everyone. Not just for the people of the past or the people of the future, but for everyone.

Thank you, and have a nice day.

…and by the way, other countries have “freedom” too. They just seem to have their shit together.

But of course, that’s just 99 problems…