Untitled

If I sing No Dames in a room full of women will they know enough to be offended?

White boys be like close that front door, you’re going to let in the cold; black boys be like close that front door, you’re going to let in the flies.

Getting up is a struggle. Some use coffee to get over it, I rely on twitter, and Oscar Isaac recommends a humanoid: “She wakes you right up, doesn’t she?.”

It was the night of the Iowa caucus and the morning of the day after. Bernie was giving Hillary a run for her money over there and it was also a day for polling over here.  I was more familiar with the names and promises of the candidates in the other country’s elections than those of my own locality’s. For that reason, I felt justified enough to not exercise my right to vote.

A decision that incidentally is much frowned upon these days. By afternoon, I put the spin on it and was going around saying, more to myself than (to?) anyone else, that my not voting was a form of protest. It was a protest against the lack of power of the municipalities, it was a protest for meaningful decentralization of power. It’s not apathy, it’s concern. It’s not irresponsibility, it’s sending a message. (When teens exhibit reckless behavior in movies, doesn’t the movie psychiatrist always interpret it as teens sending a message?) The low voter turnout was going to be a message, not that we didn’t care about democracy but that the elections you are holding are a sham. I almost wrote a letter to the newspaper editor, to help them see the real reason behind the low turnout.

x—-x—-x—-x

There must be something you want to do, something you love, something you’ve imagined yourself doing, something you’ve dreamt of. Don’t judge its viability and measure its possibility. Don’t dismiss it as a castle in the sky. Tell me, tell me your innermost desire. Let go of the fear of being judged, don’t be so afraid of being vulnerable. I’m not here to judge, I’m only here to help you. I’ve heard you say you are not interested in any of the conventional paths. I’m assuming you think they’re small time ambitions. That’s fine, having big dreams is good. I’ve always believed that if your dreams don’t scare you, then you’re not aiming high enough. So tell me, tell me about your aim.

My aim, as you put it professor, is to make people feel so insecure in my presence that they start reeling off their achievements for no rhyme or reason. I want them fabricating  experiences. I want them stretching the truth. I want them shining turds. I want them yearning for my praise and I want them seeking my validation. I want it so everyone wants to impress me.

Are you saying you wish to be an MBA school?

Hush professor, you’ve said your piece. Now let me say mine. I want people to wonder why they were being so obsequious to me once I’ve moved on, I want them to not understand their overpowering need to impress me. I want them feeling like I’m their all-powerful boss, even though I’m not. The feeling I want to invoke is purer, something straight from Colombia.

But why?!

Because that’s power! Some people gain access to it on the back of their Benjamins and some get it through their vocation but I want it just for being.

Wait, are you saying you don’t want to earn power but BE power? Does that even make sense?

I’ve already warned you once, professor. Do not interrupt me while I’m speaking. Stop being so much in love with your own voice. I can see you were very shy and quiet as a kid but now’s not the time or the place to play catch up. I beseech you, for your own safety. Keep your trap shut. Now give me a nod so that I may continue.

The professor nods.

We leave the room.

x—-x—-x—-x

Let me tell you the story of how a woman with a great ass made two guys act social towards each other. Well, there’s nothing more to say actually- that’s pretty much it.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s