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| So it's been a good while since I've posted on xanga, and I can't help but wonder if that's not just because of Facebook's takeover. As well as 'Notes' spread whatever word I'd wanna get out there, I feel like there's a different purpose involved than if I wanted to ramble here. And by ramble, I mean complain about my (still) teenage life. After all, that's what we used this ish for, right? Back in the day, everybody had their problems, and everyone wanted everyone else to know it (even if no one would say that out loud). Bitches wanted attention, dudes wanted to seem sensitive...we all had our motives, even if we woulda never admitted it.
'Course, I'm speaking to a pretty specific population here...I know plenty of xanga sites devoted to sharing writing, artwork, ideas, porn. If I were nostalgic enough to go through my old entries or to hit the time machine in my subscriptions, though, I'd probably just find a lot of complaining. Actually, I guess there were a good amount of birthday shoutouts and song lyrics, too. A lot of jokes. Recounting of good times, and even some inspiration. Lots of vanity, though, but then again, where else could we write about ourselves and have people give us (e)props for it?
Okay, so I'm mostly joking about the complaining thing - it wasn't the only reason people logged onto xanga, but it did get me thinking to write here again, and it was definitely prevalent, even if it wasn't everywhere. I mean, people read that shit, and who could blame them/us? If someone bitched a nigga out on the web, someone else was bound to listen, for a multitude of reasons. Maybe they were bored, maybe they like gossip, maybe they wanted to feel better about themselves, maybe they actually cared. Regardless, we all knew at least who had sht to complain about.
Seems we've grown out of it, though. People's is growin' up, and they're busy and doing sht and on facebook, so there ain't no more need to spread drama on xanga. People's is also talking on walls and shit, actually communicating. Xanga's heading for archaism, just like books are. Some British-Indian kid in my English class told me he read all of last week's assigned novel online. (Crazy shit; last generation couldn't even have dreamed of this, and that nigga's eyes must have hurt like shit after staring at a computer screen that long).
Anyway, back to complaining - forgot about that? That's right, I ain't even get to the purpose of this shit yet. (Nah -wouldn't it be hypocritical as shit if I did that now?) I'm not in the self-pitying mood; it was easy to fall into that trap back in high school, but it's different now. It's not that I don't want to complain, just that I know that I can't. Doesn't necessarily mean that people who do complain shouldn't; everyone complains some time, even if most people know it's pretty futile (I'd give you a distribution, but I suck at stat). People aren't listening to you anymore; people aren't reading you on their subscriptions like they used to. You have to write something pretty worthwhile to read in order for it to get read. It's different, now, because it isn't about you anymore. It's about what you can do, and, to a lesser degree, what you can say.
It's all about stepping up your game, because with the world like it is, it might take some real ability to get shit done. Competition is ridiculous; bullshit ain't gonna get you as far as it used to. Everyone's got their hurdles, but not everyone's gonna jump them. I'm not gonna lie; I'm in no shape to do any hurdles. I wouldn't even make it out to warm up and get the hopes of all my fans up (and if you're getting this allusion, you know there are literally a billion of them), only to crush them and spit on the rubble. 'Course, I'm not and likely won't ever be prominent enough to even be in a position to disappoint an entire nation, but disappointing your friends, your family, or yourself (in any combination) isn't great either.
It's like 5 in the AM, though, so I should probably try and get to bed. Fuck complaining, and gossip, and even xanga; this isn't where shit goes down, this is just a place of reflection. Nice to have, but not really where you should be. Still, though, it's there for you; you never know who's reading out there, and it can be a nice feeling to be heard. It might not get you a job in this economy, but if it's important to you, why not? In the (very) end, which one matters more?
And who gives a fuck anyway?
_________________
stop, analyzin’, criticizin’,
you should realize what I am and start epitomizin’
legitimate, I got the heart of the biggest lion
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| Need to stop thinking, and need to start going. No mind, like the last samurai, like when I'm fading away on that baseline, or when I go in-and-out and cross back over, 'cuz damn I've never shook anyone so fast–
_________________
It's all about reality.
Let's stay young, do our thang, and really stick it to the man.
Music, not drugs, is my aeroplane.
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| Short update on life: am finding niche for second semester at Princeton. In process of revamping focus and desire to study, as well as ability to stay disciplined. Also working to preserve youth, confidence, and the hope for a better tomorrow, as to keep sanity and jasonshun factor intact. Finally, doing the work I have always wanted, craved, and would have/would still kill to do.
And it's already been decided: I'm going to not take this for granted and halfass it. See, the way I see it, over ninetynine percent of people are mediocre. For these (us) normal people, we'll go through maybe ninety-ninetyfive percent of our lives just winging it and getting by, trapped within the boundaries of the ordinary, too tired and locked-in to take a step outside the proverbial box. That five-ten percent, though, is not to be underestimated; in the end, that five-ten percent may be enough to save us, the ones we love, and maybe even the world (kidding about the last one...sort of).
That five-ten percent is what some would call passion, what Gene Hackman would call heart, and what I would contend is the direct result of being able to stay young enough inside to still have the capacity for hope.
_________________
No pain, no gain.
No risk, no reward.
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| So I finally got the guitar I've been wishing for since like, junior year of high school, all thanks to my (amazing) best friend. Looks like I'll be jammin' on it while studying for finals during break and reading period...oh well, it'd be a much better way of wasting time than watching Dragonball Z online.
Speaking of which, I think I might be the only person I know (outside of my school, of course) that has exams after break. On one hand, this blows, but on the other, I get some time to study, and some time to put things into perspective. I was talking seriously with my jokestar of a little brother for once, and we both agreed that fall semester, freshman year is the only time we're allowed to fuck up. From now on, it's time to step our games up, and I get some time to fully realize that before final exams this break. Hopefully, I'll use it.
As for school itself, my grades are looking very mediocre, and I know Papa Shun won't be happy about this one. I feel like there's gonna be a lot of Burger King talks coming my way soon, but I mean, come on, it's about time I start to really manage my own life. My decisions, my victories, my losses, my life...
I remember one Friday a few weeks about, I was just kind of moping around in my dorm room, thinking about how much I was being raped by school, how I was barely making any new friends, and how much I barely even cared. Low point of the semester, definitely, but I suddenly discovered some pictures of the kids I counseled at swim camp last summer. This one in particular struck me; it's of Chloe, the baby of the camp at three years old, dressed up as a pirate. (She's adorable...definitely one of my favorites. My number one, though, Melody/Momo, who put a chewed piece of gum into my hair one day during snacktime, isn't pictured.)
I realized, among other things, that I have had a lot of good times, and that there are also a lot of good times still to come, if only I exercised some patience and put forth some effort. Even during camp, which I absolutely loved, I had to do mad work, getting up at six-thirty in the morning (and during my senior summer, no less), and driving thirty minutes of to Morristown to face my Russian Nazi Swimmer Boss Luda, but the reward was well worth it. And it was in that moment that I experienced what James Joyce would call an epiphany, or what Jason Shun would call a revival. I got up; like Marco would say, I stopped wallowing in my self-pity, and I decided that I would do something about it.
Now, two weeks later, back at this Milltown Road, armed with a guitar, and about to go down to Disney World for Christmas, I am getting back on track. Even if my grades haven't gotten all that much better, I've at least picked myself up, made some legitimate friends at school, and started training in Smash again. I've realized just how much there is to look forward to, especially at a place as diverse and amazing as Princeton. Like my hallmate and buddy Esco said, you can just be sitting in class, and any person can raise their hand and say something that'll make you think, hmm, that's really interesting, I've never looked at it that way before. He's already said a lot of stuff that invoked that kind of reaction in me, on everything from Heroes to Casino Royale to Don Quixote to the Internet, and now, I'm excited and ready to contribute. I've got a lot of great classes coming up next semester, and a lot of inspiration building up right now, so I guess it's time to do like Jimmy Smith and lose myself in the moment.
'Cuz it's like the man said: this opportunity may come only once in a lifetime.
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| Didn't make the creative writing program. Next time.
I am writing a paper on the Martyrdom of Tupac Shakur, though, which should be interesting if I can ever get it started. Been at this for a day, and after all my scattered reading/research, I've finally found an approach I like. Too bad it won't see its beginnings until tomorrow.
What a hell of a week. Highs and lows (literally), and a lot of reflection. Time to finally make things happen, though. College may not be as hard (as I often complain) as it is effort-requiring. Not just for schoolwork, for everything, because suddenly, everything matters. The stakes are raised: shit just got real.
Well, guess I'll just have to get my hustle on.
(On a quick, separate note, I just saw Casino Royale, aka my new favorite 007 movie. It's like my hallmate Esco said, you see a darker, grittier Bond, kinda like how you saw Bruce Wayne like that in Batman Begins. Legit, eh? Just connecting the dots...anyway, looks like Batman Begins will be next on my "to watch" list.)
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