If you take a quick glance over at my picture you may notice that I am not white. You may also notice that I do not exactly look black either. Yes, I said black. Not African-American, because you could be a white dutch guy from South Africa who came over to the U.S. and be more African-American than most black people.
But anyway, the point is, being neither black nor white, people often ask me what ethnicity I am, or where I'm from, or however they may decide to phrase it. And rather than just honestly telling them that my mother is from Illinois and my father is from so and so, I found several years ago that it is a fun little game to tell people something different everytime I get asked.
It started simple enough, saying that I was Mexican, or Latino, or Native American, and everyone I told believed me. So I started branching out a little bit, getting a little more exotic. I would tell people I was Phillipino, or Somoan, or one of my favorites Polynesian.
This spring I went to Trinidad where I found that I looked exactly like the local people. Naturally I just let people assume that I was a native son, which they did. Now one of my go to answers for my origin is that I'm Trinny (I'm not sure if its Trinny, or Trinnie, but I know that they use the shortened version because Trinidadian is quite the mouthful). It was kind of funny because as basically the only non-white member of a 50 person group, I gave everyone else instant credibility. If only they knew where I was really from.
To this day there are people I go to college with who I told during freshman year that I am Polynesian that still believe that to be true. And I suppose it could be, but you'll never know. As for my close friends though, they don't care where I'm from, they just take a line from Scrubs and call me their Chocolate Bear.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
I was driving the other day, I have no idea where I was going which is completely irrelevant now but not being able to remember is going to bother me a lot. For the sake of giving myself a false sense of peace, I'll say I was heading to Buske's house.
Anyway, a commercial came on over the radio for a new cell phone. The fact that I actually listened to the commercial is shocking in itself, because I'm usually pretty quick on the preset trigger, but regardless of the reason, I heard the ad. A cell phone commercial is usually nothing special, however the focus of this one seemed rather strange to me.
Pretty much the only feature of phone which was highlighted on the commercial was how quickly this phone could get you to your facebook page. That's right, no talk about affordable pricing, or incredible area of service, no dropped calls or unlimited text messaging. Apparently the only thing this phone company wanted you to know about its product was its ability to keep you in close proximity to your favorite social network.
The funny thing about all this though, was that I didn't even think it was a bad ad. I mean, the thing genuinely had my attention. Rather than scoffing, and saying, what has this world come to or blah blah blah, insert your preferred elitist rant here, I was wondering, how much is this wonderful new phone? Now that is a pretty significant accomplishment but whatever marketing company put this commercial together, because I'm not even 100% sure this phone can actually make phone calls and I want it.
I think I know why too. About a year and a half ago, I was flying home from Houston and was sitting next to a rather attractive girl who was about my age. We started talking and spent most of the flight laughing and enjoying each other's company. It was one of the best flights I've ever had in my life because of the company I was in. So naturally, when we landed, I wanted to keep in touch with this girl, but instead of asking her for her phone number, I turned as I grabbed my carry-on and said, "Hey, can I add you on facebook?" The best part was, she didn't even skip a beat, she just agreed eagerly before we went our seperate ways.
Now maybe this is more a commentary on me than it is society in general, but apparently to some people like myself, a phone that can get me to facebook is a lot more useful than a phone that can make phone calls. Who knew?
Anyway, a commercial came on over the radio for a new cell phone. The fact that I actually listened to the commercial is shocking in itself, because I'm usually pretty quick on the preset trigger, but regardless of the reason, I heard the ad. A cell phone commercial is usually nothing special, however the focus of this one seemed rather strange to me.
Pretty much the only feature of phone which was highlighted on the commercial was how quickly this phone could get you to your facebook page. That's right, no talk about affordable pricing, or incredible area of service, no dropped calls or unlimited text messaging. Apparently the only thing this phone company wanted you to know about its product was its ability to keep you in close proximity to your favorite social network.
The funny thing about all this though, was that I didn't even think it was a bad ad. I mean, the thing genuinely had my attention. Rather than scoffing, and saying, what has this world come to or blah blah blah, insert your preferred elitist rant here, I was wondering, how much is this wonderful new phone? Now that is a pretty significant accomplishment but whatever marketing company put this commercial together, because I'm not even 100% sure this phone can actually make phone calls and I want it.
I think I know why too. About a year and a half ago, I was flying home from Houston and was sitting next to a rather attractive girl who was about my age. We started talking and spent most of the flight laughing and enjoying each other's company. It was one of the best flights I've ever had in my life because of the company I was in. So naturally, when we landed, I wanted to keep in touch with this girl, but instead of asking her for her phone number, I turned as I grabbed my carry-on and said, "Hey, can I add you on facebook?" The best part was, she didn't even skip a beat, she just agreed eagerly before we went our seperate ways.
Now maybe this is more a commentary on me than it is society in general, but apparently to some people like myself, a phone that can get me to facebook is a lot more useful than a phone that can make phone calls. Who knew?
Sunday, July 13, 2008
My Entourage
Recently a friend of mine eloped with her longtime boyfriend. She was already engaged so the wedding wasn't that big of a shock, and knowing her, the fact that she eloped was almost expected. However she was the latest in the growing line of my friends who are now married.
So it kind of got me to thinking, not about what girl I could or should married, don't worry I'm certainly not ready for that, but rather about who would be in my wedding party. As I started to think of the guys I would want to be my groomsmen, the names formed quite a formidable list. Obviously there was my brother and my two best friends from high school. But then there is my youth group leader who I now consider a mentor, my brother-in-law, my buddy I have known since we were toddlers and at least two of my college friends.
That would put me at a solid eight groomsmen, which is an absolutely absurd number. I started to think, although my wedding day is at a conservative estimate 3-plus years off, there is absolutely no way I could trim that group down at all. So what is a guy to do? Beat the system that's what. I've got two words for you; Wedding Entourage.
Here's how it works. After the parents and grandparents have been sat as they traditionally would be, my entourage and I start to roll down the aisle to a tune which lets everyone in the crowd know that, while I'm romantic and ready to start my new life, I'm still hood. At that point the appropriate number of my boys would head back and escort the bridesmaids to their assigned spots before my entire entourage clustered behind me as a metaphorical gesture of them having my back as I awaited the arrival of my bride at the front of the sanctuary.
And that my friends, is a little thing I like to call pure genius.
So it kind of got me to thinking, not about what girl I could or should married, don't worry I'm certainly not ready for that, but rather about who would be in my wedding party. As I started to think of the guys I would want to be my groomsmen, the names formed quite a formidable list. Obviously there was my brother and my two best friends from high school. But then there is my youth group leader who I now consider a mentor, my brother-in-law, my buddy I have known since we were toddlers and at least two of my college friends.
That would put me at a solid eight groomsmen, which is an absolutely absurd number. I started to think, although my wedding day is at a conservative estimate 3-plus years off, there is absolutely no way I could trim that group down at all. So what is a guy to do? Beat the system that's what. I've got two words for you; Wedding Entourage.
Here's how it works. After the parents and grandparents have been sat as they traditionally would be, my entourage and I start to roll down the aisle to a tune which lets everyone in the crowd know that, while I'm romantic and ready to start my new life, I'm still hood. At that point the appropriate number of my boys would head back and escort the bridesmaids to their assigned spots before my entire entourage clustered behind me as a metaphorical gesture of them having my back as I awaited the arrival of my bride at the front of the sanctuary.
And that my friends, is a little thing I like to call pure genius.
The 5 o'clock Shadow
I started shaving when I was 12 years old, and have basically hated doing it ever since then. It's time consuming, tedious and no matter how much practice I got, I could never seem to avoid cutting myself on a regular basis. Finally last year, I asked my family for an electric razor to minimize the annoyances of shaving. My brother granted my wish and got me one. My good ol' electric is the kind of razor which cleans your face up enough to get rid of any itching or discomfort which may be caused by facial hair, but it doesn't cut all the way to the skin like a traditional razor would, thus leaving me with a 5 o'clock shadow everytime I shave.
Now I never did mind sporting the scruff because I'm a 20 year old college guy, so looking a bit rugged works toward my overall goal of looking like I'm hardcore. However until recently, the 5 o'clock shadow of which I have become so fond, was never really the most popular look. I have no idea what has changed but all of a sudden, scruffy is apparently what most guys are going for. And how do I know this? It isn't my strangely vast knowledge of popculture or my embarrassing enjoyment of MTV's programming. It's girls. That's really how we as guys decide if things are popular or not right? It's whether or not girls like it. If girls like the way we dress, that's the cool way to dress. If girls like the way we dance, that's the cool way to dance. When I talk to a girl that I am interested in taking out sometime, I almost always ask what kind of facial hair they prefer on guys. The girl probably thinks I am asking so that I can prepare my face accordingly, depending on their answer, but really this question has the potential to be a deal breaker for them. I basically am going to show up to the date with my standard stubble no matter what their answer is, because aside from weddings, I don't show up baby faced anywhere. Luckily, the answer recently has always been, I like a guy with a 5 o'clock shadow.
So what does it all mean? Probably nothing important to tell you the truth. Girls change their minds about what they like more often than guys change their boxers. And even when a girl says she wants one thing, its usually a 50/50 shot at best that that's actually what she really wants. I don't mean to criticize the female population, I just have noticed their overall fickle nature lately. But for now at least, I've got the "in" look working for me. And I'll probably still have it when it goes out of style, and I'll still have it when it comes roaring back. Just a warning for the ladies out there though, I hope you like my stubble for a while because I am more likely to get rid of you than I am my 5 o'clock shadow . . . just kidding . . . but seriously.
Now I never did mind sporting the scruff because I'm a 20 year old college guy, so looking a bit rugged works toward my overall goal of looking like I'm hardcore. However until recently, the 5 o'clock shadow of which I have become so fond, was never really the most popular look. I have no idea what has changed but all of a sudden, scruffy is apparently what most guys are going for. And how do I know this? It isn't my strangely vast knowledge of popculture or my embarrassing enjoyment of MTV's programming. It's girls. That's really how we as guys decide if things are popular or not right? It's whether or not girls like it. If girls like the way we dress, that's the cool way to dress. If girls like the way we dance, that's the cool way to dance. When I talk to a girl that I am interested in taking out sometime, I almost always ask what kind of facial hair they prefer on guys. The girl probably thinks I am asking so that I can prepare my face accordingly, depending on their answer, but really this question has the potential to be a deal breaker for them. I basically am going to show up to the date with my standard stubble no matter what their answer is, because aside from weddings, I don't show up baby faced anywhere. Luckily, the answer recently has always been, I like a guy with a 5 o'clock shadow.
So what does it all mean? Probably nothing important to tell you the truth. Girls change their minds about what they like more often than guys change their boxers. And even when a girl says she wants one thing, its usually a 50/50 shot at best that that's actually what she really wants. I don't mean to criticize the female population, I just have noticed their overall fickle nature lately. But for now at least, I've got the "in" look working for me. And I'll probably still have it when it goes out of style, and I'll still have it when it comes roaring back. Just a warning for the ladies out there though, I hope you like my stubble for a while because I am more likely to get rid of you than I am my 5 o'clock shadow . . . just kidding . . . but seriously.
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