this is just a test

i'll remove this later. right now though, my layout is all screwed up and i don't know why. i have to figure out if its the template or if its an effect from the previous post. please disregard this blog.

chapter 1

"i was on a train one day, when i was younger, and remember a little girl sitting in a seat near where i was standing. we were close to the front of the traincar and people were getting on and off beside us at every stop. every stop, back and forth, pushing and pulling - it was a hectic, hectic ride. i was getting frustrated by the business, but the little girl didn't seem to mind. she was bundled up in a cute little pink overcoat and had on a little pink hat and a little pink bookbag. she had to be about 5, or 6 at the most, on her way to school. she was adorable, her feet barely inched off the edge of the seat, and her adult teeth were just starting to grow in. she had innocence in her eyes that looked more like a grain of salt caught in between her eye lids, and a smile that made me stare at her in a way that made her mother uncomfortbale. her mother was much older than one would expect for a girl this age. she was seasoned by many years and nothing about her led me to believe she had an easy life. not the scowl on her face. not the scar near her eye. not the coldness in her voice. nothing. as i tried to look away from the two of them, the little girl pulled my attention back by asking her mother, 'mommy, who's driving us?'. unable to hear her daughter's little pink voice over the thunderous train tracks, her mother replied with a aggravated 'huh??'. the girl, wearing her little pink socks restated her question, 'mommy, who's driving us?' her mother, in her first act that allowed me to see that she might be a decent parent, replied, 'oh, sweetie, the conductor'. 'the conduckor??' the girl replied. 'no, the conducTor', stated the mother. then the little girl sat there, whispering the word over and over as her brain worked the difficult term and concept into her memory bank. she stared out the window for a moment, still mouthing the word "conductor" silently over and over again. then she asked her mother, 'whats his name?' the mother, now frustrated and unaware that they were still on the same conversation said, 'who's name?' the girl replied, 'the conductor's!'. at this point, i was into the entire conversation, and was very eager to hear what name the mother was going to pull out in order to satisfy the curiousity of her little pink daughter. but instead of a name, she abruptly replied 'i don't know'. and the little girl sat there for the rest of the trip, disappointed and wanting."

"and why bring this up now, phillip?"

for a moment, i forgot she was there. "because...she was left wanting. and i didn't understand why she couldn't be given something, anything to satisfy her insignificant desire to know. her mother could have told her 'bob' or 'fred'. or she could have told her that the conductor was a she, named 'sarah' or 'kimberly'. i don't understand why she had to be left in that state of wanting when satisfaction could have been brought so easily!"

"but, phillip, why do you bring this up now? how does the desire of a 6 year old girl prove relevant in our session? how does it make it's way into our discussion?" she probes to discover what i'm really trying to say. always assumming that i'm speaking in a code or analogy that takes time and patience to figure out.

laying on my back, i could only hear the softness in her voice on the other side of the room. i prefer it that way. "because her mother deemed it wrong," i said, " her mother made her feel as though it was wrong to want - wrong to have a desire that strong. her daughter wanted to know, and wanted to know from her mother! and it was her mother that told her she was wrong! everyone says it's wrong, to want something so bad that it consumes you, to want something to the point that it's presence or absense can alter the very essence of your being. to want a thought or idea or a change or an experience...they say it's wrong. they say we can't have what we want because life's not that way. because..."

"what is it that you want phillip?" she interrupts.

and her interjection caused me to think. they always do. she likes to catch me mid-sentence so that it forces me to think. and i do. sometimes i need to because i get confused. in this case though, i know perfectly well what i'm saying. i know perfectly well the thought i'm trying to convey.

"...i want a woman, doctor. and the other doctors tell me that it's natural in my state to want that, but i know it's more. i don't want a woman like they think i want a woman. i crave a woman. i want her in all of her imperfections and shortcomings. i want her with all of her faults. i want the beauty that is her failures. i want to see her in her absolute pureness. naked without having to feel as though she is not correct. i want to caress the hair in the places where she feels she should be bare. i want to kiss the parts of her body that she feels are too big. or too small. i want to lay next to her and cup her breast in my hand, conscious of the fact that i hold the nurture of life. i want to run my fingers across her stomach, knowing that i brush my fingers across the cradle of existence. doctor, i want a woman the way i want air. the way i want to wake up in the morning and the way i want to go to sleep at night."

she replies, "but do you really think that you can sustain a relationship in your condiditon..."

in an outrage, i turn and scream at her, "you do not know about my..." but i couldn't finish. as i turned to her, where her voice was, where i was sure her voice had been, there was nothing. no one. only a chair where she should have been. only the chair and the walls. and the door with the slit at the bottom for my food. and the bed that hurts my back. and the toilet i have grown to hate.

i lay back on my bed and weep, realizing once more that i will never leave this room.


i had this thought in my head for a moment, and may very well turn it into a book or short story, in which case this would be chapter 1 (hence the title of the blog). feel free to give constructive criticism if you like. thank you.

flight

i've always felt as though flying in war had to be alot like walking through a crowd of people. or vic a versa (or however you spell that). often times, i walk in crowded malls, or in rush-hour subway stations, or busy streets and easily find myself thinking i was a pilot, whizzing my way through obstacles. i have to zip past this person, or in between these two people, or out of the way of this object - all without losing speed. or if i do have to increase or decrease my speed, i can only do so in the manner that won't be abrupt or sudden, because people are walking behind me and are flying just as i am. and if you really think about it, the enemy planes in battle don't want to crash just like I wouldn't want to crash as a pilot - so when i'm walking, it's interesting to see how people are navigating out of my way just as i navigate out of theirs. i dunno, just something to think about while you're walking i guess.

thanksgiving?

i guess i'll write about thanksgiving too.

everyone else seems to be. the teachrs at my school have the students writing about thanksgiving. other bloggers (l-dot) are writing about thanksgiving. charlie brown and the rest of the network television family seem to be focusing on thanksgiving. and anyone who isn't on the thanksgiving tip - is already singing christmas carols!! it's a sad, sad season. no patience whatsoever.

of course, this isn't to say that i'm writing about thanksgiving because everyone else is focusing on it. no, in hindsight, i've written nothing about the katrina issue, or the kanye west response, or the 9-11 anniversary, or the harry potter hype, or the iraq voting process, or ipod nano release, or the missing aruba girl, or the new georgia aquarium. and that was mainly because, i mean, what else was there left to say?

but i digress. thanksgiving has made its way into my blog because my good friend L-Dot wrote about he traditions that she shares with her family during this holiday season. more important in her writing though, was the notion that she would one day have to change those traditions as she continues to mature into the wonderful adult she is becoming. and i agree. yet, i've never really been a fan of thanksgiving. personally, it might very well be at the bottom of my list as far as holidays are concerned. below groundhogs day. and thats because i never understood what thanksgiving was about. i understand the spirit of thanksgiving. and i understand the cultural icon of thanksgiving. but i never quite understood the context in which it was created. and by that, i mean more than understanding it's date. the date of thanksgiving, like the date of christmas, is irrelevat to its meaning.

so as i grew older and began to learn more about thanksgiving, he less ethusiastic i was about it. the less i wanted to celebrate the manipulation and barbarian nature our country was founded on. the less i wanted to acknowledge the traditions set forth by the colonists and settlers of "the new world". the less i wanted to treat it as a "holy-day", which is where the word holiday derived from. holla at your etymology (www.wikipedia.com). but let me not give all the credit to gradual consciousness - i was also the "non-eater" in my family. i was that kid that held his cabbage in the back of his jaw so that he wouldn't have to eat the rest. i was the child that spread his beans apart, so that they looked somewhat eaten. i was the pre-teen that feed turkey slices to the dog under the table. which i'm sure led to the untimely death of our rotty, rudolph. so yeah, a holiday that my family recognized as the holiday to pull out all the food wasn't really the holiday for me as a kid.

my momma even tried making me special plates of macaroni and cheese, and spaghetti.

so in a nutshell, for whatever reason, thanksgiving just isn't really my holiday. and thus, i will be spending my first real holiday without the family this year as i stay here in NY. this is kind of odd for me to be truthful. i know they miss me and i miss them, but i think that this is a part of that process of growing up. i think that this is a part of what L-Dot means by changing tradition as she grows into an adult. i mean, there is a certain adult quality to your folks calling and asking, "son, are you coming home for the holidays?" i remember when they used to curse me out for coming home too late at night! now it's a question of whether or not i'm coming home at all! not telling me to, not a demand or order - a question!!

a question i can say "no" to. and hence, a new experience for me.
thanksgiving.

momma's words

first off, everyone should go read [spurt]'s comment on the "two types of people: vacation package" blog. not that it's necessarily indicative of what i was trying to say, but it's a very interesting read nonetheless.

secondly, and lastly i think, i would like to share something i learned through my momma. she and i were talking about sex the other day - i don't know why or how, but that's not the point. during the conversation though, she went on a brief tangent that brought me to a new thought. she was talking about a guy from her past, saying "the way he cooked, and the way he dressed turned me off...". after saying this, she started telling me about how to properly bathe a woman.

but her comment got me to thinking...women are sexually affected throughout the course of everyday life! and i put the exclamation point there because, yes, this was a revelation to me. women are turned on, or off, by the life of a man, and not just what takes place in the bedroom. a man, on the other hand, can easily look past a woman's highlights or flaws once the lights are dimmed and the pendegrass comes on. it doesn't matter to us. all that matters is the bedroom. it's such a stark difference.

but it makes so much more sense. a woman pays so much more attention to detail and specifics than men do, generally speaking. so yes, they should naturally be affected by more aspects of life than men are. how a man walks, dresses, speaks, reacts, smells, writes, brushes his hair, ties his shoes, pronounces his vowels, treats his momma - all impacts what type of ass they're getting that night, if any!

for men, and i'll take the liberty for speaking for us all here, we don't generally care. our bedroom life is a touch of a button and a pull of a lever. touch the button, pull the lever. touch the button, pull the lever. a woman, as this revelation has led me to believe, is touch the button, pull the lever, twist the knob, flick the switch, fill in the time sheet, complete the evaluation, sign the form, straighten the tie, check the valves, lubricate the drain, call the kids, and then touch the button. there's so much more. and it's actually a little overwhelming when one really thinks about it.

i don't think you understand - my mom was turned off because he was putting in too much salt!!

thats serious! as men, we are constantly judged and critiqued by every woman everywhere deciding whether or not they would, or will, sleep with us!! and as i understand it, there is only one thing a man can do about that...



not a damn thing.

be yourself.
sprite.

...and, way past wednesday

"i'm scheduled to move in o wednesday, but alot can happen between onw and then."

that was me, six days ago. wednesday has come and gone, thursday is a memory, and friday is just a taste left in my lush mouth.

i moved i today.

and it's awesome so far. momo and i packed my bags up and took a $7 taxi from my old place to my new place. i plugged my tv into a cable jack that no one is payig for, and about 50 channels come in crystal clear, including fox, upn, tbs, 3 home shopping network stations and about 13 spanish programs. muy muy bien. on top of that, i found a mattress warehouse that does same-day delivery; thus, that's what i'm laying on now. and to put the cherry on top, i'm getting wireless internet. i don't know from where, and it doesn't really matter. God bless them, whoever they are. so yeah, i'm moved i for the most part.

and my roommates are the best roommates a guy could ask for, as far as the first 3 hours of my stay in concerned. they have offered their help with moving, car services, food, building my laundry hamper, and condoms. yes, now that i live with guys, i'll never be without a rubber. no children for me this year. and everyone is so chill. for instance, i called them and asked if we needed any milk in the kitchen. and the response was, "no, everyone buys their own milk". yes! because i don't want to share my milk!! i mean, i would. but who really wants to share milk?? who???

i'm not that keen on milk-sharing.

so, i've moved in with three white guys, and so far, as wes implies, they are just three fuckin guys. three cool fuckin guys...except for andrew, i haven't seen him in the two days i've visited here. and the other guys have only seen him four times in the last two weeks. he has some weird schedule because he works crazy hours. so he might be a serial killer/IRS agent. either way, he's either "at work", or "sleeping in his room".

hopefully i'll be able to steal momo's camera and take come pictures of the new place. look for them soon.

and now that i have internet at home, look for me to put more blogs up. or less blogs becaause i'm conscious that i can always write later, and i'll procrastinate it until i just don't give a damn about blogs anymore. which is fair.

white people

there are a number of different things going on in my life right now. and where i want to write about them all, i also don't. i dunno. it's like...i dunno. um...i dunno.

however, i will write about white people.

some, mainly momo, will immediately argue that i can't write about white people, because i don't know anything about white people. and thats true. i grew up in blacklanta, ga. i went was risen in an all-black church, attended all-black schools, lived in an all-black neighborhood, and graduated from an historically black college (morehouse shoutout). from birth to 21 years old, i can count the number of white people whom i knew personally. and actual white friends (which i didn't get until i went to cali for 3 months at 18 years old), i could count on one hand. lets see: peter, krista, laura (my boss), and becky. there was also adrian, but halfway through the summer i found out that he was actually chicano.

the reason why i write about white people now though, is because i had to check my mom today about the white culture and my experience with it. to be more specific, and to stop beading around the bush, i'm looking for an apartment now, and believe that i have found one uptown. initially i was looking for a one-bedroom (nothing beats privacy), but since then, i've realized that i had to stop being ignorant and start looking for places that were looking for roommates. hell, everywhere i looked i had to pay at least 3100 to move in. and thats best case scenario. so i found this place uptown (151st street and broadway) and was excited about it. it is a 4-bedroom spot, in a huge pre-war building, with over 60 apartments filled with young professionals and grad students (columbia university is nearby). it's near a local train and a express train and is 3 blocks from the river that seperates ny and jersey. and for those that don't happen to live in new york, i apologize for the jargon. so let's just say that it's a nice spot.

so i tell my mom about it - how i have a large room, a good grocery store is on the corner, a park is down the street, and it's $875 a month - and she askes me about the roommates. so i say, "yeah, there are three guys living there as well, they seem pretty cool, and i need to meet more people up here anyway". so sje asks a few more random questions, and then gets to the question she really wanted to know, "so, are they white guys?" i tell her, "yeah, they're white".

she lets out a sigh.

so at this point, let me say that all of us are somewhat racist. we all have our preconcieved notions, blinding assumptions and overwhelming stereotypes that we try to hide but really can't. and who are we to help it? our country was built on the likes of racism. it's in our fabric. we just have to try to do the best we can.

so mom continues to start cussing me out about living with white people, stating that i don't know them, don't know how they are, don't know how they live, and etc. thank God it wasn't my dad, who has more to say about white people than one may like. and this isn't to say that either of them don't have white friends themselves, it's just...i dunno. i feel like a hippie trying to explain their crazy grandpappy to their jewish fiance'. to get back on the topic, after mom finished yelling at me about how much i don't know white people, i told her she was right. i don't know about white people. and so, i wish to learn. up here, up here in new york, i'm a minority. i'm not in blacklanta, georgia anymore. and i don't limit myself to the likes of harlem (which is going through gentrification anyway, so it really doens't matter). i can't live here in a protective bubble against "whitey" and expect to live comfortably. i have to coexist.

at the same time though, i can't be stupid enough to think racism is over.

but i also can't be the hypocrite that doesn't see it when it's being played on the other side of the fence. i'm not going to not live with these white guys because their white. because they stink, sure. because they watch kiddie porn together, sure. if they're gay and bring their boyfriends over for nights on end of loud passionate booty sex - yes, i'll leave then. but because they're white?

i have my preconceived notions to. i'm not unaware of that. but i can't let my assumptions dictate my actions. i can only allow them to make me more conscious of my surroundings and environment. to pay more attention to whats going on around me. to live within my means of venture and new experience.

as of now, i'm set to move in on wednesday. but alot can happen between now and then.

alright mom and dad, you win

i think i'm about to try stand-up comedy. not because i make a few people laugh though, or because i have an interesting story or two, but because i think it may really be an alright gig.

i did my research and found out the way to tap into the NY circuit. i would have to show up to a comedy clubs "open mike night" every night for about 5 weeks. and then, if i'm consistently good during those nights, they'll offer (or give me after i ask for it) a spot in their lineup on the weekend. on a lineup, i'll get paid for my contribution to a number of performances that lead up to the main attraction. the main attraction though, isn't like eddie griffin or john leguizamo here. no, these entrees are more like the guys that have appeared on "tough crowd" a few times, or had a 30-minute spot on late-night comedy central in 2001. not to say their not good. it's just that, most people don't know the readl stand-up comedians. the real stand-up comedians stay in stand-up comedy. they don't move to tv, or radio, or movies, or talkshows. no, the real ones just stay in the curcuit for the love of the mike.

i'm not that comedian.

if the right one comes across with the check for the fox sitcom - i'm there. i wouldn't dare limit myself to the stage. why? i applaud the likes of leguizamo and griffin that take it from the stage, to the small screen, to the big screen, back to the small screen and then back on the stage. everywhere. and getting paid for each one.

but i digress. my mom and dad used to tell people that i wanted to be a comedian. not that anyone was asking what i wanted to be, they just told people that for their own sake. "either a preacher or a comedian, either way, he has to have a stage." and i suppose that's true. over the last few years (from 10th grade on), i've come to find that i appreciate an audience. hell, don't think for one second that a classroom full of 6th graders isn't an audience. don't think for one second that i don't have to perform in that classroom every single day. as a matter of fact, i was using my racial mix as an example of fractions last week. i try to give the kids some applications and real-life examples of math and whatnot. so i told em, "i'm black, white, native american, puerto rican, and bahimian, so because there are five races in all, i would say that i am 1/5 of each race. are there any questions so far?" hector raises his hand. "yes hector..." "mista, your mother was a hoe huh?!" and so, where that didn't really happen, i would use that as a stand-up joke, after rehearsing my delivery a few times.

stand-up is an art though. it's serious. but i have to believe that if one is smart and humorous, then somebody has to laugh. i mean, worst case scenario, nobody will laugh. there are worse things than embarassment. not too many things. but there are worse things.

it might be an alright gig.

buried in life

what of an utter and complete collapse into life. to allow yourself to be buried into the change that has beeen pulling you away from what you used to be. to permit yourself to be turned over into the flow of existence.

i'm sorry, i'm not being hypothetical. this is quite the reality of things. or reality as i see it. seriously, what of fully embracing and sacrificing yourself to the nature of your own being. to stop trying to control the essence of your very life. to become an object in your own destiny.

over the last few months, i have felt trapped by the limits of my own conscious actions. how i have tried to manipulate and discipline myself in order to have what i want out of life. how i have tried to balance everything, just to drop it all. and then, after writing "you mean, i don't have to", i stopped. i made the conscious decision to take a break from the drivers seat and coast down life for a while. i dunno, it's difficult to put into words. it's even difficult putting this into an analogy, and i love analogies.

i guess what i'm trying to ponder is - why is there an internal need to be in control of things? when was it decided that going with the flow was unnatural and wrong?

i understand it to a certain degree though. in philsophy 101 at morehouse, we studied socrates for a while. and socrates is a heavy dude, check him out when you can. in one argument, he was tackling the philosophy of laws and regulations, stating that we create laws not for the benefit and safety of others, but essentially for ourselves. furthermore, we not only create them for the sake of ourselves, but also follow them for the sake of ourselves. for instance, we, as a society, don't go around and kill one another haphazardly, because if the mentality spread to the masses it would endanger our own loved ones. so, in a nutshell, we follow rules as a unified agreement in our own culture so that we can ensure safety of ourselves and our loved ones.

those sent to jail aren't sent because they broke a law, they are sent because they broke an agreement.

forgive the tangent. i digress. i brought that up to say that i understand the notion of being in control of ones live to a certain extent. based on the beliefs of socrates, it may be safe to assume that if all went on the flow of life, verses being in control, our cultural strucutre may be broken down and the very fabric that our society is built on may be torn. this though, is a case of simple misunderstanding. by the flow of life, i do not mean going to work when you feel like it, or going out on the street naked at your leisure. no, thats being careless.

by the flow of life, i mean a spiritual intactness with ones self so that they are guided not by what is deemed right, wrong, just, unjust, fair, or smart - but by the sole feeling that it is something that has to be done.

but like i said, it's a difficult idea to communicate. i know i was all over the place on that one. if i lost anyone, find solace in the fact that i've lost myself.

stay

stay with you (remix) - john legend ft. reggie wilborn

[john legend]

We've been together for a while now
We're growing stronger everyday now
It feels so good and there's no doubt
I will stay with you as each morning brings sunrise
And the flowers bloom in springtime
All my love you can rely
And I'll stay with you

Oh I'll stay with you through the ups and the downs
Oh I'll stay with you when no one else is around
And when the dark clouds arrive
I will stay by your side
I know we'll be alright
I will stay with you

Though relationships can get old
They had a tendency to grow cold
We have something like miracle
Yeah, I'll stay with you

Oh I'll stay with you through the ups and the downs
Oh I'll stay with you when no one else is around
And when the dark clouds arrive
I will stay by your side
I know we'll be alright
I will stay with you

And there will be heartaches and pains, yes it will
But through it all, we will remain
In this life, we all know
Friends may come, they may go
Through the years I know
I will stay

[reggie wilborn]

i look into your eyes and see eternity blossoming under tears
i see comfort blended with hurt, and your condifence mixed with fears
you can't define relationships based on what others see and hear
my dear we've been together way before we both knew we were here
and here is where i'll stay, even if we say that we're apart
i hold you tight and know our love is from God
and even as i write i can't find the right words in my heart
so i take my time and take it back, all the way to the start
i think of you,
and so i pray i have the chance to stand by you when you're alone
and wipe the water from your eyes and hold you in my arms til dawn
i want to comfort your cries and and take your hand softly in mines
not tonight, but for the rest of our lives
i'll stay with you

[john legend]

Oh I'll stay with you through the ups and the downs
Oh I'll stay with you when no one else is around
And when the dark clouds arrive
I will stay by your side
I know we'll be alright
I will stay with you
Everything will be fine
And I will stay with you
Through the end of time
I will stay with you

you mean, i don't have to?

a while ago, i had an argument with momo and b-packer (shoutout) about the concept of "no". and in a nutshell, i was just stating that people ignorantly ask questions without anticipating the answer "no", and moreso, people reserve the right to just let it be "no." period! no excuses. no reason. just no. let's take this scenario...

"excuse me, may i please sit there?"
"oh, yes you may"
"why, thank you. you are such a gentleman."
"oh, you're quite welcome. enjoy your grapes ma'am."

did you see that? did you see how she didn't ask why. how she didn't ask for a reason or cause as to why she could get that seat?! no one ever ask "why" when things go their way. no one ever wants to know the reason why everything is going alright. we all just assume that things should be going the way we want. but when things go wrong, we instantly think it's karma or some shit. we think that we're being punished, or that someone is picking on us from above. we, as ignorant human beings, feel as though we need to have a reason for the negative. lets take this scenario...

"excuse me, may i please sit there?"
"no"
"but sir, i'm old and tired, may i please sit down there?"
"no, leave me alone"
"but sir, i don't understand, i really need to sit down. you look fit and healthy, i..."
"look! fuck off lady!! and get those damn grapes out my face!"

and then somebody gets arrested.

sorry. that was actually a tangent. the real reason i sat here just now was because i've been apartment hunting this week and have been feeling the pressure of having to know when to say yes. and i've seen some nice places. the really nice place, though, was today. i mean, it had everything i needed. space. location. safety. cost. everything was just right. it was a warm jacket, a puzzle piece, a snug condom. it was a soul mate. it just fit. that was before my broker told me that i had to pay a double brokers fee because it was private property. as i understand it, something about the building being property means that the building has a broker and i have a broker, so both need to get paid. by me. that, plus the 1st months rent and secruity deposite. so in a nutshell, i have to pay $4180 to move into a nice apartment that will cost me $1100 a month to live in.

it's ridiculous when you think about it. that sad part though, is that i didn't do that. i didn't think about it. i got excited and signed some papers and said some things i didn't mean and, well...i was about three steps away from going to BankOfAmerica to take out a home loan for a new york apartment. then i spoke to my dad - and he dropped the bomb on me. after speaking with him for a while, he simply said, ""reggie, i want you to learn, as you go through live, that you don't have to do everything you can do, sometimes you just have to realize what you just aren't able to feasibly accomplish." and he's right. there is a stark difference between what i can do, and what i'm able to do. i can take out a loan for this apartment, i can sleep on the floor for a few months until i can afford an air mattress, i can live off of peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches until 2006...but why? just as easily as i can make my live hell, i can just not do it. because the reality it - i'm not able to make that jump right now.

maybe it doesn't seem like that much of a lightbulb for some, but for anyone that tries to live life by doing things just because they can - this is heavy shit. when my dad told me that line, i sat and thought about all the things i've done in my life for the sole reason being that i just could. getting with a girl. breaking up with a girl. taking a job. leaving a job. moving to another city. my first car. my college. any office i've ever run for. most purchases.

i've lived most of my life shrugging my shoulders and saying "why not".
i'm excited by the knowledge that i am to change that philosophy.