1. 91
    30
    May

    "From the very beginning you are being told to compare yourself with others. This is the greatest disease; it is like a cancer that goes on destroying your very soul because each individual is unique, and comparison is not possible. I am just myself and you are just yourself. There is nobody else in the world you can be compared with."

    - Osho (via internal-acceptance-movement)
  2. 1
    26
    May

    Misguided Introduction to Relaxers.

    As a child, I remember dark brown carpets as my dwelling place for the chore that was sitting and getting my hair combed. An experience ubiquitous in the life of a young African American girl, my spot was between a mother’s knees with a comb parting thick hair. Time consuming, sometimes painful, boring, and often resulting in a style I didn’t quite like, the ritual left a bitter taste in my mouth. A mouth that would extol the advantages of long straight hair. It was bound to leave a lasting effect on me - having a harsh, unfeeling plastic comb part tangles and knots, complaining only to have my protests written off as ‘tenderheadedness’. If I were to try to make the time pass faster by reading a book or playing Pokemon Ruby version on a Game Boy Advance, my attempts would be met with impatience, a demand to jerk my head up in an uncomfortable position in order to finish the style, the greasing of the scalp and the application of knockers barrettes. Stripped of distractions, I was left to stare up at patterns in the ceiling and think of my Caucasian classmates at school. I was sure they just woke up, ran a brush through their Rapunzel-like hair once, and were on their way. But me, my hair had to be a scheduled element of my day. I had to pencil in activities around my hair. For them, hair must have been an after-thought, just something that flowed long and straight from their scalps, easily taken for granted. Every Disney Princess had hair like that. Every cartoon character and movie star. 

    So began the lifelong war against my natural hair. I acquired an arsenal of flat irons, hot combs, relaxers. At one point, clip-in extensions. Why? Because my hair in its natural state was not beautiful. Long, “for a black girl”, sure, but that was nowhere near enough, and even as a child I refused to settle for second best. If long, straight hair was required to be a Disney Princess, then damn it, I was going to get it.

  3. 2
    16
    May

    veronicaraqueldiaz:

    AGT 2012 - Turf

    This is my cousin the dancer on America’s Got Talent. I miss my San Francisco days - I remember being in the same first grade class with his little brother Javon at Edison Charter Academy where we could walk to Dolores Park for field trips, and Christmases and Thanksgivings in the Bayview/Hunter’s Point area at my Great Aunt’s house. Over time me and a lot of my cousins on Dad’s side of the family kind of dispersed out to the suburbs - Vallejo, Fairfield, Daly City, etc. and the suburbs have a tendency to isolate people. The mentality of the Bay Area and its outskirts is tricky - you’re born in SF, your parents grew up in SF, but the City becomes impractical at some point, especially for us big families, and we ditch it for the suburbs, the fences, the commute, the neighborhood schools and typical suburbian life of middle-class America while still calling the city home.

    Alonzo , however, takes the city and makes it work for him. There’s nothing practical or traditional or typical about it - and I envy my cousin that. I guess dancing on the street while people throw money in a hat till the sun comes up is impractical - but look where it’s gotten him. On stage at America’s Got Talent - and I know he’s gonna go far. Watch, support, vote : “Turf” on America’s Got Talent - Mondays 8/7c and Tuesdays 9/8c.

    (Source: veeneversleeps)

  4. 4
    May

    DIY Earrings :)

  5. 13
    Apr

    Meant to write a poem today, but I was like…

    Good morning. 

    Blink. She turns her head and the first thing she sees is the sun rising over the tops of skyscrapers. 7, 8 times higher than the tallest building back home…her eyelids droop again.

    Stretch. Her arms reach for her iPhone. What time is it now? 8:37 AM. Class starts at 12. She has time. Time to sleep, or read, or watch a movie.

    Yawn. Her head turns back to the wall, appraising her barrier of stuffed animals. Tie-dye bear. Flower shop, Daly City, California, 2000. Panda bear. San Diego Zoo, 2006. Bengal tiger, Six Flags Discovery Kingdom, Vallejo, California, 2008. Donald Duck, Disneyland, Anaheim, California, May 28th, 2011.

    All of them belonged to a different stage of herself. The tie-dye bear belonged to a seven year old in a forest green sweater. A second grader with a shelf full of advanced books her teacher picked for her.

    The panda bear belonged to a twelve year old in a white skirt, legs tanning a deeper brown for contrast in the San Diego summer sun. Interested in Asian culture and endangered species, right in the middle of the fateful transition from eager, playful child to pensive, observant teenager, recording thoughts in a notebook.

    The Bengal tiger belonged to a 15 year old, one who sat alone at lunch listening to Lauryn Hill, defiantly rejecting any look of pity. Who needed a fleeting, shallow surface level relationship with some teenager she had nothing in common with when she had an intangible connection with the musicians whose words and rhythms snaked through her earphones?

    The Donald Duck belonged to her two months ago. Cradled in her arms on a bus full of high school seniors. Round, soft, fluffy, held like the last grasp at the vine of childhood as she typed her graduation speech on her phone and planned her going away party.

    And this July 2011 morning? This morning belonged to her. 17 years old, ambitious, and alone in Los Angeles, California. Her feet tread lightly to the kitchen in the 985 square foot apartment, aware of her sleeping roommate. Her hands pull a Twizzler from the cabinet above her head. She stares out the window of her dining room where she works for hours on projects and Sketching for Design homework. Olympic Boulevard. Figueroa Street. The Staples Center. The Ritz Carlton. The number 26 stops at the corner, 9 floors below her, and picks up a waiting passenger. Probably right on schedule, just like her. Just like her life. In 2 hours and 52 minutes she will walk out of this apartment, famous heavy white tote bag on her shoulder, take the elevator to ground level and cross busy Hope Street to class - Color and Design Theory. She will return at 2:57 PM, and work on homework until 7:00 PM, then eat dinner. FaceTime her little sister.  

    Tomorrow is Friday - she’ll explore downtown alone. Walk to that Indian restaurant beneath the 52 story Paul Hastings Tower. Or to Santee Alley, hearing voices call out about sales, half price, $1.99 earrings. Mingled English and Spanish, street vendors with hot dogs and Doritos. Or best of all, to the Central Library. Her feet will take her over the streets of the heart of the city that is now hers but not hers at all.

    She doesn’t know it yet, watching the 26 drive off on Olympic Boulevard. But her scheduled life is challenged by that question mark in her heart, at this point too faint to recognize. She will have to give up her schedule followed by who she thinks she is, to explore, just as she now explores the streets of Los Angeles. 

    She will again write in a notebook in April 2012, still a question mark, but never a falsehood. Still exploring, but never claiming territory that isn’t hers.

  6. 9
    Apr

    “No such thing as a stupid question.”

    If one desires a career that pays a good amount of money, but they desire that so they can afford to purchase an excessive amount of books, should one major in an English related field or a Business related field?

  7. 3
    25
    Mar

    One Of These Days

    •I won’t find a way to construe everything anyone says as a jab about my weight.
    •I’ll eat without my phone in one hand recording everything I put in my mouth.
    •I’ll own up to the hypocrisy in me rejecting and complaining about society’s unrealistic standards for women but investing my time and effort unwillingly into trying to achieve them as if some other unknown person’s judgement of me is more valuable than my own happiness and comfort.

    The fact that I can write this is proof that I’m getting there.

  8. 10006
    25
    Mar

    I find smoking so unattractive.

    (Source: staypozitive)

  9. 22
    Mar

    My first best friend.

    My first best friend ever, I met when I was four or five at this preschool/after school program I used to go to in San Francisco’s Hunters Point district called Whitney Young Child Development Center. I can’t remember if it was the year I was in preschool or the year I went there after school for a few hours in kindergarten. I think it was kindergarten, though.

    Anyway, my first best friend was this little African boy and I can’t even remember his name. I’m not sure if he was actually from Africa or if his parents were or what, but I know he wore some kind of traditional African clothing sometimes. Anyway, I remember that he was really intelligent. One of those intellectual type of little kids that’s kind of quiet and thoughtful. That’s probably why the two of us clicked. And we would seriously get in debates over things like the value of a dollar and why candy was priced at 99 cents instead of $1 even. We would hang out all the time, the two of us in the back of the classroom, having little five year old intellectual discussions and sharing ideas and making sure our pretend games were fair for all stuffed animals involved.

    I wish I knew where that kid was now. He’s probably a student body leader representative at Harvard, majoring in Comparative Literature or Philosophy or Public Policy Analysis or something. I’m glad I can remember the little bit that I can, though. It kind of helps me understand myself.

  10. 49047
    22
    Mar
    And I ain’t trippin on nothin’,

    And I ain’t trippin on nothin’,

    (via jonathansoto)

avatar_96
Page 1 of 23 Older

Following

See more stuff I like