Poetic Nightmares

This is deep...

2008-12-31T12:04:00.000-08:00

I strongly believe that life is what you make it. I googled that line to see what would come up and I stumbled across this... DEEP!

Maybe God wants us to meet a few wrong people before meeting the right one so that when we finally meet the right person, we will know how to be grateful for that gift.

When the door of happiness closes, another opens, but often times we look so long at the closed door that we don't see the one which has been opened for us.

The best kind of friend is the kind you can sit on a porch and swing with, never say a word, and then walk away feeling like it was the best conversation you've every had.
It's true that we don't know what we've got until we lose it, but it's also true that we don't know what we've been missing until it arrives.

Giving someone all your love is never an assurance that they'll love you back! Don't expect love in return; just wait for it to grow in their heart but if it doesn't, be content it grew in yours.

It takes only a minute to get a crush on someone, an hour to like someone, and a day to love someone, but it takes a lifetime to forget someone. Don't go for looks; they can deceive. Don't go for wealth; even that fades away. Go for someone who makes you smile because it takes only a smile to make a dark day seem bright. Find the one that makes your heart smile.

There are moments in life when you miss someone so much that you just want to pick them from your dreams and hug them for real! Dream what you want to dream; go where you want to go; be what you want to be, because you have only one life and one chance to do all the things you want to do.

May you have enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human, enough hope to make you happy.
Always put yourself in others' shoes. If you feel that it hurts you, it probably hurts the other person, too.

The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way.

Happiness lies for those who cry, those who hurt, those who have searched, and those who have tried, for only they can appreciate the importance of people who have touched their lives.

Love begins with a smile, grows with a kiss and ends with a tear. The brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past, you can't go on well in life until you let go of your past failures and heartaches.

When you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling. Live your life so that when you die, you're the one who is smiling and everyone around you is crying.
by: Anthony Missico, Jr

And tomorrow

2008-08-20T13:17:00.000-07:00

So many times I have heard others comment, "tomorrow will be a brighter day." And they fantasize of wonderful things to come their way. They wait with great anticipation for tomorrow to come. For tomorrow will be their salvation from pain and suffering.

Yet, tomorrow comes and nothing has changed. Disappointment sets in, followed by anger, disgust and more suffering.

See, tomorrow does not bring a new beginning nor does it free us from all our pain and suffering. Only through acceptance of reality can we begin to free ourselves. The more we resist dealing with whatever is bothering us or the obstacle on our path, the longer the suffering lasts.

Currently on my mind....

2008-08-14T01:17:00.000-07:00

I can't change others. I can't change the way they act, talk, behave, etc. I also can't sit and wait around for others to change because I may wait forever. I can only hope to inspire them to change through my actions and words. I must be and act like the change I want to see take place.

Peace, love and happiness.

My Grandfather

2008-05-20T13:23:00.000-07:00

I'm unsure of what to say. I feel shocked and speechless. My grandfather had a heart attack last Thursday and has been in the ICU on life support. His chances of survival are slim. I have gone on through my days like he is still here with us, because to some extent he is. But I have also come to gripes with the possibility of losing him.

(07-02-08 -- I had began this blog entry a while back, over a month ago. My grandfather has sinced passed away, may he rest in peace, he was 71. He is survived by his loving wife, 12 daughters, 2 sons, 41 grandchildren, and 8 great- grandchildren.

What I will remember most about my grandfather is his hard work ethic. He worked from sun- up to sun- down, and worked tirelessly. My aunts and uncles told him many times he no longer had to work, but he knew of no other life style and wouldn't have it any other way. So many times I stumble across the saying, "I won't stop 'til I collapse." I can honestly say my grandfather lived his life accordingly. He enjoyed and took pride in the work he did.

If we wanted anything in life we had to work hard for it, do things the right way and everything else would take care of itself and that's a lesson he has passed on to us. My grandfather is my hero because he never gave in to his age and fought with all he had to keep his dream alive. There was no quit in him. So I will always remember him for his tenacious work ethic.)

Peace!

2008-05-09T12:47:00.000-07:00

Now that the course has come to an end. I just want to thank everyone that posted comments on my blog entries, especially blogdog for being a regular on this here blog.

To all those that enjoyed some of my poetry and thoughts. I'll continue to post blog entries. Feel free to come back and visit my blog.

Thanks all and peace.

Bliss within a Storm

2008-04-29T01:37:00.000-07:00

As the birth of my second son approaches, about 90 more days, I can't help but be excited. Let me just say, I have so so so much respect for mothers out there. Delivering a baby is intense and EXTREMELY painful, I witnessed it first hand once already. For me it was probably the hardest thing I ever had to witness, just because of the amount of pain my wife was in and knowing I couldn't do anything to take the pain away. In the end, holding the baby in your arms is the single most wonderful feeling in the world. I wrote the following poem after the birth of my first son. (WARNING: it does contain some graphic details.)

Bliss within a Storm

(Dedicated to the birth of my son)

She arch's her lower back, squeezes the bedside rail.

Her fingers and knuckles turn yellow from the firm grip.

Her neck snaps back, jaw drops, her mouth wide open, she screams at the top of her lungs, grrrraaahhhh.

I sit at her side, reach for her arm.

DON'T TOUCH ME! She yells out, glances at me quickly then throws her head back again.

He he he whooooo he he he whooooo. She turns her focus on each breath.

Drops of sweat rest at her forehead.

Tears run down her rosy cheeks.

Her eyes squint shut as she grimaces in obvious pain.

Her legs bent at the knees and open, ready to push

Laura I need to check your progress, says the nurse in her pink hospital clothes.

NOOOO! She screams out in my direction.

Don't let her check me, please. She cries unrelentingly. Only pauses to catch her breath in between each cry.

You're dilated at 8 cm. The baby will be here soon. Comments the nurse as she removes the white latex gloves from her hands.

You hear that, just a few more pushes and he'll be here soon. I say to my wife in clear excitement, my eyes well up with water.

I manage to choke back the tears.

DON'T… TALK!!! She shouts out to me. Brings her chest and head forward.

He he he whoooo he he he whooooo. She continues to pace herself.

Two long hours of screams, howls, and shouts, an epidural shot lodged in her lower back, and cheers from the nurses and doctor in the room welcomes an 8 pound 7 ounce, 21 inch long baby boy.

Aiden Anthony Zapien.

She whispers,

holds him in her arms,

gazes into his eyes,

he stares back at her calmly,

he never cries.

At last jubilation sets in and numbs her every bone.

She exhales deeply, closes her eyes, and grins.

"Media and the Military"

2008-04-25T11:55:00.000-07:00

With the recent class discussions about the Pentegon and media coverage of the war. I went back to an entry I wrote for the media literacy course I took during the fall semester and found this,

Another thing that stood out to me from the readings was the article Regulating in the “National Interest”: Media and the Military. What made this article so interesting was how the Military really does regulate coverage of military action. Everything is either censored or eliminated from news coverage. This article brought back to light the past few years with everything going in Iraq. The American public wants to know the truth about the war, but the Military and the White House keeps insisting there is light at the end of the tunnel. I can also understand the Military is trying to prevent what happened during the Civil war when generals were using newspapers to gain information.

Not only is this happening with the military, but it also happens in sports. NFL teams do not disclose the real nature of injuries. Other times teams do not release information on players who are injured during the week. Teams do this for a number of reasons. Teams want their opponent to prepare double fold. For example if the quarterback is hurt and the opponent is not sure whether he’ll play in the game or not, then they have to prepare for the back up quarterback and the injured starter. Another reason is because of gambling. They do not want gamblers in Las Vegas to know who is starting, because teams feel they will have an edge. Other times is because they don’t opponents to target the injury of the player to get him knocked out of the game.My thing is how do balance what is right information to publish and what should not be published? How do we tell the truth from the beginning without putting anyone in danger?

One last shot

2008-04-18T11:57:00.000-07:00

So yesterday, I continued to rehab my surgically repaired knee (two ACL tears and microfracture surgery). And I'm extremely excited because my recovery is going well, which means soon I'll reach my ultimate goal of being able to play basketball again. Today, I wanted to share a short prose on how tore my ACL the first time. Enjoy.

I leap, hurl a shot, orange leather, black lines and goose bumps, rub off my finger tips and spins high in the air, arcs away and is forgotten; then suddenly a loud tearing sound rips through the action and excitement of the evening crowd; silence takes hold. I reach for my knee and fall to the hardwood floor. Sharp, stabbing pain; I curl up on the floor like a baby in a mother's womb; groan then exhale, groan and exhale. "This is serious, real serious!" I say to the group of coach's, players and trainers huddled around me; still clutching my knee. I can feel the throbbing of blood as it rushes to the point of the injury; swelling up. As I'm carried off, crossing half court, I look back one last time, I see images of my life through the many different stages, how the orange leather ball with goose bumps and black rubber lines helped keep my sanity, and the only thing I would confide in. And with one last shot it was gone, forgotten in the stillness of the air.

What do you think?

2008-04-14T23:22:00.000-07:00

I want to share an excerpt from a journal entry I wrote back on March 27th, 2003. I think this journal entry is relevant to what I have been writing in my previous entries on this here blog.

I had this notebook all laid out of what I wanted to write in it. But from now on I will also write what is on my mind. Yesterday, around 2:30pm I began to think of something that is not new to me, I've thought about it before. Here it is, there is a situation where some individuals are jealous of someone for whatever reason. The person that they are jealous of or dislike, I'll call this person John, has always tried to do what is right. John has avoided all trouble. He is doing well in school and is in disbelief about these other students disliking him. He does not mind that the students dislike him, but to hear that they are looking for him does not sit well with him. He is confused and doesn't know what to do. Should he tell an administrator? But he can't do that because he learned at an early age to never snitch out an enemy. So really, that is not an option. Should he go up to the individuals and see what's up? What if they fight? John heard through the "grapevine" that the guys wanted to jump him. John is not worried about getting jumped because he has family that is willing to do die for him. John is more worried about doing the right thing without being a snitch. These guys don't want to talk, they just want to get him.

What would you do if you were John?

There are so many kids/teens out there who experience this. And many develop the mentality of I ain't going out like no punk! and I ain't a f****** snitch! or I'll get them before they get me.

Local terrorism

2008-04-07T22:13:00.000-07:00

I currently feel devastated by all the violence that has been on going in Salinas. Every night there is a shooting and it goes unreported because no one was hit by a bullet. It saddens me because there are so many innocent people whom live in Salinas. I think of the families and the children. I also think of those gang members who have had their lives cut short by the violence.

It does not matter the time of day anymore. Shootings have now taken place during the day. Just last week a man was shot during the lunch hour, Two men slain in Salinas. A few weeks ago a shooting occurred just as school got out, Gunfire, fleeing vehicle injure 5, suspects held. I have been at the Salinas mall on three separate occasions where shootings took place a few yards away from where I was standing.

I have witnessed my share of violence. I have seen people get shot. I've had family members in the hospital suffering of gunshot wounds. Friends murdered. Drive by's. and beatings.

It is painful and sad.

If anyone wants to know what real terrorism feels like, try living in one of these neighborhoods. Where you have to worry about locking your doors and windows, even when it's 100 degrees outside. Or having to look around when walking down the street. Or knowing how to fall/get down to the ground when a shooting takes place.

Where going to the corner store is a matter of life and death. Every turn is a precaution. That's real terrorism. It's always in the back of your mind. And fear becomes your soulmate.

Something to think about

2008-04-01T23:56:00.000-07:00

(I’m going to write about something that has been on my mind for some time now. Well since the story first broke, March 4, 2008.)

Here is a short excerpt from the LA Times story:

On Sunday night, it was Jamiel's father on the phone and then his son's girlfriend, Chrystale Miles. Jamiel Sr. called to tell him to hurry home from the mall. The 17-year-old boy was three doors away when someone shot him to death while he was still talking on his cellphone to Chrystale, friends say.

Jamiel Sr. heard the shots almost as soon as he hung up. He ran out of the house, raced around the corner and found his son lying on the sidewalk, bleeding.

A police spokeswoman said two Latino men pulled up in a car, jumped out, asked Jamiel if he belonged to a gang, and shot him when he didn't answer. She said Jamiel was not affiliated with a gang and that detectives had no suspects.

This has been on my mind because this is what it means to be African American or Mexican. You get “hit up” when you’re walking home, waiting at a bus stop, or simply just doing nothing. You don’t get to go through life in a care free manner, where all you worry about is that test you didn’t study for. Before that bell rings to end the school day you’re already planning your route home, places to avoid, how to avoid eye contact with certain folks, etc. Or just planning out what to say if you DO get hit up, I don’t bang shit!!!

Would that satisfy them? What if it doesn't? Should I run or put my chin up and get revenge later?

I have been hit up a few times in my life. I thank God every time I was able to get out of the situation unscathed. Like the time after open gym one night my junior year. 3 friends and I were sitting at the bus stop at a busy intersection when two suburban loads of gang members jumped out and asked what we claimed. Each member carrying some type of weapon, bat, knife or gun. you have at least 10 to 12 guys against 4. I swear I thought we were dead. I was just thinking, Okay, this shit is about to go down. Who do I go after first.

There is no way you can turn around and run, leaving your friends behind. If one goes down, you all go down. That's just how it is. You may not bang, but when you get hit up there isn't much you can do about it. Just pray you make it out alive.

We do not have that privilege of going through life care free. And its not like you ask to get hit up. You get hit up because of your race and where you live.

How can these kids focus their time and energy on academics when in the back of their minds they have to worry about how they will live through another day? This is where race privilege comes into play. How many white people can say they worry about whether they'll live or die because of gang violence? Or worry about being hit up on their walk home? White people have the privilege to move around to any part of the country and feel safe in their neighborhood. Where as minorities are not afforded that privilege. A person of color cannot move from California to the South or Mid- West and expect the same treatment. When I was in Kansas for a leadership conference you can tell things are not the same.

Being a person of a different ethnic background or race is more than just being followed in a department store.

Da Cards

2008-03-30T23:36:00.001-07:00

The following is a poem I wrote Fall 2002 for a sociology class. Enjoy.

Da Cards

I play da cards

The way they were dealt

I wasn’t given much

And feel like raisin’ hell

No matter what card I play

I never seem 2 win

FUCK! I FEEL LIKE GIVIN’ UP!

WHY DID THIS ALL BEGIN?

I want 2 succeed

But I need a winning hand

I play with the scraps I was given

That I create my own plan

I lie and deceit

And begin 2 get ahead

I became addicted

that I do it all again

When I get caught

I’m sent 2 prison

And da system

Just holds me derision

So I’m sitting in my cell

Trying to comprehend

If this is da life I was destined

I played the cards

The way they were dealt

If it weren’t for systematic oppression

I would have played fair

Untitled

2008-03-29T08:35:00.000-07:00

I used to get caught up in the issue of race in America. The issue is BIG on many levels. And yes, racism still does exist; especially when justices can sign a young person's life away with the stroke of a pen. I have seen it happen.

I had completed about 30 poems on social oppression based on the experiences of others and myself. I admit I used to get upset, frustrated, mad, and depressed when I would hear stories like Homework Hostage's. I can recall many times feeling helpless because you want to do something about it, but there isn't much to do. Oppressive and discriminatory behavior is deeply rooted within many institutions.

I have come to the realization that forgiveness is key. We must forgive our oppressors or people who judge us without merit. Not necessarily because they are deserving of our forgiveness, rather so that we can move on with our lives without pain, anger and hositility. If we can learn to forgive, then when we think of that instance of hate, it will no longer tie us down and we wont feel angry.

If we get caught up in the negativity of it all, then we will go on living with negative stored emotions. And the next time something happens to us the incidents will only seem to mount on top of each other until we can no longer bear it. We will have to release these emotions and the consequences could be unfavorable.

We must treat each incident as isolated and forgive our offenders for our own good.

More thoughts

2008-03-19T00:36:00.001-07:00

21 February 2006
“Everywhere we turn, there seems to be people trying to manipulate us into living lives that they have created for us from their perceptions and/or assumptions. We must come to the personal understanding that we cannot walk in the shadow of the image that others have created of us. For our life is our own to live. And in order to find true happiness and self-fulfillment we must learn to live in our own skin and to walk in our own shoes.”-me

Sharing thoughts

2008-03-19T00:35:00.000-07:00

"I have come to realize that it is inevitable to avoid hitting life’s downfalls. And I am certain that I WILL fall from blows dealt by life itself, but I will just get up and I will keep going up there swinging back. Every time I fall I'll pick myself up and I'll go back for more. I will NOT give in. I will NOT give up. I will fight with all my courage and strength to keep my dream alive. And I WILL fight for as long as I live and only rest when I've reached life’s end. Knowing that I gave my all, and it is better to have fought for something I believed in and lost, that never to have fought at all."-me

From a single tear

2008-03-14T11:43:00.000-07:00

(Dedicated 2 My Heart)
03/04/05

From a single tear drop of pain, sadness and despair,
A youthful tree of courage, strength, and enthusiasm has grown.
Who knew that against all odds this tree would sprout.

Through all the struggles that life has been.
This tear drop, which felt like life’s end,
hit solid concrete with a thud.

All along this tear knew itself to be something special.
Through the adversity and doubt the cement presented.
This tear fought valiantly and continued to endure.

Many turned their backs and pretended not to see.
They said the tear had been strangled by cement,
And would never learn to breathe.

Soon, what looked like a small plant,
cracked through the cement.
All that saw this,
were amazed.

Which begged the question,
How it could be, that a plant could grow from concrete?

Winter, spring, summer and fall.
This plant continued to grow against it all.

Rain, storms and heat,
Could not destroy this plant.
For it had a heart larger than life,
Which would not accept defeat.

Now this plant has grown
And become a tree.
We celebrate its tenacity.
Its will to reach the sun.
Never fully understanding
the struggles it had to overcome.

It is life. It is beautiful. It is one.

Who would have thought,
that from a tiny tear drop of sadness, pain, and despair
A youthful tree of courage, strength and enthusiasm would grow.
Who knew that against all odds
this tree would sprout.

Perseverance

2008-03-11T11:24:00.000-07:00

On Sunday, March 9th I participated on a student panel for the Service Learning Institute College Access weekend. On Monday, March 10th, I visited my former high school. I spoke to every AVID class about perseverance and overcoming adversity. I shared a short time line of the life of a student who went through some extreme hardships, to the point he was literally homeless and without a job. The male student in my story was 21 when he experienced such hardships. I then asked where they thought this male student was at 24 years of age. Many said, dead, on the streets, back home, hopeless, working a dead end job, etc.

They were shocked to know the young man was me.

Yes, after completing my second year at CSUMB I lost everything. I had no car/license, no job, no housing, academically disqualified and the list goes on. I was able to overcome all these things and now I'll be graduating.

I had the students write on a note card what their goals were and where they saw themselves in four years, fold the card and put it away in their wallets. I then explained that when hardships or bad decisions seem to overwhelm their lives, to open this notecard and know bad experiences do not define who they are. They CAN over come anything and when they see this note card they will know they have goals and a dream they are working towards.

I received a lot of positive feedback from the students. To my surprise there were a quite a few who broke down in tears during my speech. Others came up to me individually and said they wanted to do good, but didn't know where to start. The staff was amazed at my accomplishments. Leaving the high school I told one teacher, "I believe everything happens for a reason. Maybe I was meant to go through those experiences so I could come back and do this."

On delegating

2008-03-06T16:57:00.000-08:00

Sometimes we have a vision/ a dream and the hardest thing is giving/delegating some of the responsibilities to others so they may help us make the dream a reality. I know this was once the case for me. It's our personal dream, our vision and we want to make sure it comes out the way we want it to. So we hold on to it and we don't delegate some of it. Eventually the dream falls apart because the weight of it is too strong for us to bear. Delegating to others does not necessarily mean it is no longer our personal dream or vision, rather it becomes a "shared" dream. It becomes a reality and we share the credit with those that helped us establish it.

Today, I am grateful for my fraternity brothers and others for helping me plant the seeds of some of my visions/dreams. I know one day they will sprout and become something beautiful and wonderful.

On starting a new organization

2008-03-04T22:55:00.001-08:00

Starting a new organization is like writing a research paper. You have a million ideas of where you want to go with your topic/organization. The goal is always to narrow it down as much as possible to focus on the three main important things. To not have it be so broad that it loses its touch. I also think of my network of important individuals involved in government, education, and non-profits that I can contact for support. Then I remind myself I must slow down and take one step at a time. I have to narrow it down from a broad subject.

Behind a Hardened Smile

2008-02-28T01:31:00.000-08:00

The following is a poem I wrote for one of my HCOM classes. I'd say this poem ties in with the East Side Heroes post. Enjoy.

You sit at the squeaky desk at the back of the class.
Baggy jeans, dropped below your butt. Your black and red checkered boxers show.
Red T-shirt with a black Mountain View 6-5-0 sown on the front.
Black 7 1/4 A’s hat worn backwards.
The MLB logo sown on the back of the hat at your forehead.
You chew your gum with your mouth open loud as to announce your presence.
Spit out your gum, demands the teacher, who sits behind her desk at the front of the room.
You get up from your seat. Walk over to the trash near the door. You tell yourself,
What the fuck does she know? She doesn’t know me?

When the old man’s car ran out of gas at the stop light this morning, you pushed it across the street.
When the lady with six kids didn’t have enough food stamps to pay at the grocery store last night, you dug deep into your pockets and gave her $20.
On your walk into work, a homeless man walks by, points at your lunch, and grins almost salivating. It is your leftovers from Olive Garden. You hand it to him, just warm it up.
Every night before you go to sleep you gaze out your bedroom window at the distant moon.
The police blaze by your house down the street, sirens echo through the neighborhood.
Two new homicides on the east side, announces the 11 o’clock news from the TV in the other room.
You drop to your knees, tears well up your eyes. You
hope it’s not your friend.

East Side Heroes

2008-02-22T22:26:00.000-08:00

The other night I had the privilege of meeting a special young man. I approached him after a long Greek council meeting on campus because I was inspired by his commitment to working with at risk youth in East Salinas.

We shared some of our historical backgrounds, talked about growing up in some rough hoods in the bay area. How growing up family, teachers, and institutions always said we wouldn't make it. We weren't smart enough. And there was only one place for peeps like us, prison.

By making it to college we accomplished part of our dreams, but now our dreams have shifted course. Now our shared dream/vision is to give back to kids from poor socio-economic backgrounds.

We've began a journey of establishing an organization on campus, East Side Heroes. We were invited to present our proposal to establish a chapter at CSUMB at the next Board of Directors meeting in March. Currently we're in the process of developing our proposal to the organization. We're very excited about the opportunity and hope to make another part of our dreams a reality.

The MISSION of East Side Heroes is to serve at-risk teens, young adults, and underprivileged families of any gender, race, culture, religious belief, and sexual orientation, ... via educational scholarships, life-long mentoring, and leadership development opportunities.

Soulful Poet

2008-02-14T23:39:00.001-08:00

Soulful Poet
Dedicated 2 Tony (my brother)

Travel a noble path
deep into thy heart
to the depths of thy soul
the poet will soon discard
of body and flesh
uncovering truths
that were never dreamt
new world, new life,
no longer seeing through ignorant eyes
nor oblivious to that of sight.
Sadness, pain, joy and laughter
beautiful shades of color that make life--- life.
The poet seeks to write, to tell all.
Through poetic words, the poet has found escape
freedom of life, freedom of world
for a soulful poet will be unearthed
and not contained by gravity
free mind,
free spirit,
flowing through life gracefully as wind
drifting between reality and an imaginary place
drawing upon analytical creativity
to put things into perspective
understanding circumstances, while never breaking.
A soulful poet could never be destroyed
for he doesn't exist as human and flesh
rather as a mindful soul
and even after death of body
the soul will roam forever
and carry on the torch
giving light to the darkness, also known as the unseen,
guiding but no longer writing
yet the soul exists
crying,
for human peace.

Constructionism

2008-02-05T00:08:00.000-08:00

If we are not aware of how things are put together then we become victims of constructionism. Things are constructed and we are told to believe, not to question. We have to remember that things are constructed and anything that is constructed can be deconstructed. We must question everything we are told and everything we see.

Freedom

2008-02-05T00:04:00.000-08:00

Freedom comes from questioning our surroundings. Because we are not tied down to finite answers of the world. Embracing uncertainty rather than avoiding it would free our soul of fear. Fear takes hostage our mind and heart. When we live in fear we no longer lead a peaceful life, rather we are more prone to snap at any given moment.

Not so Super

2008-02-02T13:29:00.000-08:00

On the eve of Super Bowl Sunday I can't help but think how this day has become the second largest food consumption day in America, behind only Thanksgiving. And has become extremely commercialized for an $8 billion a year industry. Companies pour somewhere between 2.5 to 3 million dollars in 30 second ads.

But for companies such as Firestone, who is the official sponsor of the halftime show spending over $10 million for that distinct honor, this is a major PR move. The halftime entertainment and the warm fuzzy images of commercials are a form for the company to promote its image. It's all a big smoke screen to cover up the reality of some of the worst working conditions for their employees in Liberia.

The company is facing a class- action lawsuit in US District Court in Indiana, filed by the International Labor Rights Forum. The company stands accused of several human rights abuses and its use of child labor in Liberia.

In exchange for $3.19 in daily wages, FirestoneNatural Rubber Company, a Bridgestone subsidiary, expects a typical Liberian worker to tap 650 trees a day, carrying seventy-pound buckets of latex for miles. A single laborer would have to work twenty-one hours per day to meet this quota, a near-impossible task. Which is why Firestone gives workers an extra incentive: tap 650 trees per day or see their daily wages slashed in half.

In a country whose economy has been ravaged by fourteen years of civil war, Firestone's employees don't have a choice but to comply. With Liberia's 85 percent unemployment rate, there will always be someone desperate enough to take their place.

So when you see all the glitz and glamour on Sunday, remember the lives that are being exploited by companies such as Firestone.

Tribute to a Woman

2008-02-02T09:40:00.000-08:00

As February 10th approaches I can't help but pause to thank God for blessing me with such an amazing mother. You see, Feb. 10th is my mother's birthday and boy is she a special woman. My mother is my best friend. The one person I have shared so many wonderful memories with, both good and bad. No matter what I do and where I go, she's always remained supportive. Where people have doubted me, she has encouraged me to go on. So it's only right that I write this tribute to her.

In their book, Jesus and the Hip-Hop Prophets: Spiritual Insights from Lauren Hill and Tupac Shakur, Gee and Teter, characterize God's kind of love and use God simultaneously with Father.

God is love!

God loved the world enough to sacrifice the Son for our good.

Love is unselfish.

Love never fails.

Love doesn't keep score.

Love doesn't walk out on you.

Love doesn't leave you to figure out life all on your own.

Love doesn't miss birthdays... graduations... weddings... or entire childhoods. When I think of God's kind of love, no man comes to mind. This doesn't make men bad. I'm a man. The fact remains, however, that although the love phrases above describe God, they don't describe a father... not to me.

The epitome of love that was unconditional, unselfish, undying, unending, was embodied by a woman, not a man, for me. The epitome of love and commitment is a mother. Specifically, a single mother who struggled and put her own children's needs and dreams above her own. A woman who would swallow her pride and go on welfare and/or work two and three jobs just so that her family could: stay warm and fed and clothed and in school and oblivious to the fact that times were hard- real hard.

I know this is the case for me. I've never had that "father figure" in my life. My father died when I was four, but even when he was alive he was a stranger and hardly ever home. My mother's boyfriend for the past 14 years, we've never really gotten along. Ever since I could remember he's always put me down, said I was a piece of shit and that I would never amount to anything. Through my middle school and high school years he always managed to instigate a physical altercation between he and I. (I have since forgiven him.) For that reason no man has meant to me, what my mother has. My mother is both, mother and father to me. She's the one that taught me to cry, to feel, to show emotion because for so long I held everything inside.

And when I would misbehave at school or get into trouble, she would sit at the kitchen table at night, with her face buried in her hands, tears just flowing endlessly down her cheeks. (This just broke my heart. And all I did was choke back my tears.) She would question her parenting skills, maybe she wasnt doing enough, maybe she just couldn't raise a boy.

Tupac said it best when he wrote in the song "Dear Mama,"

Pour out some liquor and I reminisce, cause through the drama
I can always depend on my mama
And when it seems that I'm hopeless
[She] says the words that can get me back in focus
When I was sick as a little kid
To keep me happy there's no limit to the things [she] did
And all my childhood memories
Are full of all the sweet things [she] did for me
And even though I act craaazy
I gotta thank the Lord that [she] made me
There are no words that can express how I feel
[she] never kept a secret, always stayed real
And I appreciate, how [she] raised me
And all the extra love that [she] gave me
I wish I could take the pain away
If you can make it through the night there's a brighter day
Everything will be alright if ya hold on
It's a struggle everyday, gotta roll on
And there's no way I can pay [her] back
But my plan is to show [her] that I understand
[She is] appreciated...

My mother made me, the husband, the father, the son, the friend, and the person that I am today.

Politics of Truth

2008-01-31T23:06:00.000-08:00

Back in the Fall of 2002, I wrote a letter to California Senator Barbara Boxer, expressing my concerns over the possibility of war with Iraq. I did not agree with the Iraq invasion then and I do not agree with the occupation of Iraq today. As Presidential hopefuls continue on their campaign trails, the hot topic continues to center around the Iraq war. A war that has cost our nation billions of dollars and over 3,000 American soldiers. The invasion of Iraq was suppose to make America safer than ever before, terrorists were suppose to shiver of fear, and the world would know who the "liberators" were. Unfortunately, the war has done nothing to prove those.

"If the war in Iraq is the result of liberation, we may have set the cause of freedom back 200 years," wrote Senator Robert C. Byrd. "We cower in the shadows while false statements proliferate. We accept soft answers and shaky explanations because to demand the truth is hard, or unpopular, or may be politically costly."

So what side of the fence did Senator Obama stand on? And how about Senator Hillary Clinton?

As Robert Scheer reports for truthdig, in his article "Obama, Clinton and the War," Obama has stood against the war from day one, on the other hand Senator Clinton has withered in shame.

[Senator Ted] Kennedy was a rare sane voice among the Democrats in strongly opposing the Iraq war, and it is no small tribute when he states: "We know the record of Barack Obama. There is the courage he showed when so many others were silent or simply went along. From the beginning, he opposed the war in Iraq. And let no one deny that truth."

But that is precisely the truth that Senator Hillary Clinton has shamelessly sought to obscure. Her supporters have accepted Clinton's refusal to repudiate her vote to authorize the war, an ignominious moment she shares with other Democrats, including [ex]presidential candidate John Edwards, who at least has made a point of regretting it.