ironing out the details.

this past friday, i went on an adventure with my boy in search of escaped dogs. see, somehow they magically broke free from the gated backyard. regardless of the details, said dogs were running rampant around the malvern area. or so the story went two hours before we joined steven's friends in search of the dogs.

we ducked around corners, explored streets and, at one point, steven suggested popping through the alleyways. in the depths of the night (ok, 8:30 p.m.), i stumbled upon a really wicked mirror tucked quietly behind a trash can in the alleyway. i stopped. i stared. i told steven that i wanted it. because i have this thing for giant mirrors. i looked at him. he smirked his eyebrows. suddenly, the door unlocked, and i was in hot pursuit. until i noticed the missing chunk from the bottom left corner.

but fear not fellow divers. dejected i felt. but we continued on our original journey in search of the dogs. only to discover, a few homes farther down, an ironing board propped beside another green trash can. steven remarked, 'i need an ironing board.' we jumped out again, claiming the prize. we turned it 45 degrees and in it went. we didn't find the dogs that night (don't worry, they came back two days later), but we did get an ironing board.

so to the group that asked if i would consider going dumpster diving. i guess my answer is done and done.

transgender day of remembrance.

i guess this goes out to will, who passed away a few months ago. at least that's what the news alert said the other week before the memorial. i met him during my stint in syracuse. and while his passing wasn't, to my knowledge, violence related, the violence surrounding the transgender community continues to silence voices, ideas and expressions. it silences their culture. in syracuse i met an incredible array of people identifying as transgender - many who had to combat misunderstanding, stereotypes and judgment from those around them. but to my friends who remain some of the strongest, most vocal and bravest folks i know, i just wanted to say thanks for opening my eyes up. and for showing the power of just being yourself.

so today is the national day to remember those who have been victims of anti-transgender hatred and violence. here's an excerpt from the site:

The Transgender Day of Remembrance was set aside to memorialize those who were killed due to anti-transgender hatred or prejudice. The event is held in November to honor Rita Hester, whose murder on November 28th, 1998 kicked off the “Remembering Our Dead” web project and a San Francisco candlelight vigil in 1999. Rita Hester’s murder — like most anti-transgender murder cases — has yet to be solved.

Although not every person represented during the Day of Remembrance self-identified as transgendered — that is, as a transsexual, crossdresser, or otherwise gender-variant — each was a victim of violence based on bias against transgendered people.

We live in times more sensitive than ever to hatred based violence, especially since the events of September 11th. Yet even now, the deaths of those based on anti-transgender hatred or prejudice are largely ignored. Over the last decade, more than one person per month has died due to transgender-based hate or prejudice, regardless of any other factors in their lives. This trend shows no sign of abating.

The Transgender Day of Remembrance serves several purposes. It raises public awareness of hate crimes against transgendered people, an action that current media doesn’t perform. Day of Remembrance publicly mourns and honors the lives of our brothers and sisters who might otherwise be forgotten. Through the vigil, we express love and respect for our people in the face of national indifference and hatred. Day of Remembrance reminds non-transgendered people that we are their sons, daughters, parents, friends and lovers. Day of Remembrance gives our allies a chance to step forward with us and stand in vigil, memorializing those of us who’ve died by anti-transgender violence.

autobots, transform.

since i'm on this nostalgia kick with g.i. joe, i thought i would share a clip from an event i would love to go to someday: botcon. botcon is the annual transformers convention bringing together crazy people like me who obsess over the show, the toys, the everything. part of my Ph.D. dreams rests in uncovering or studying the affinity for 80s cartoons and how they've remained alive for decades after their initial airings. maybe one day i'll finally get there. enjoy.

swimming around the mill.

this past saturday i spent the afternoon weaving between the masses at potomac mills. my journey started on the way to my friend's condo, trying to duck the uproarious applause of the marathon runners. and i saw a woman screaming on her cell phone as she drove at a 40 mph clip. i hope no one died.

i hadn't been to potomac mills in a while. it's this behemoth of retail space that feels like i need a scooter to get me from place to place. we started at the marshalls mega store and worked our way through the food court, screaming babies and the most terrifying santa ever, to the nordstrom end. twenty-eight miles later. ok, i'm exaggerating. originally, my thoughts as i watched all these shoppers - families, singles, girlfriends, college buddies, white, black, latino, asian, gay, straight, kids, parents, moms, dads, grandparents, friends - centered on the culture of shopping at a perceived outlet mall (which, as times change, becomes less of one). about the search for a deal, the buzz of looking or furor of thousands of people surrounding you. this would be a germophobe's worst nightmare.

but i started to pay attention to everyone's bags. to the stores people spent more time in. for example, how i avoided the papaya store. but i flock to the disney store. or how my friends rush to the fossil store while i demand stopping in hot topic. or how abercrombie is a waste of my time. but the shoe section at nordstrom is my slice of heaven. there are a myriad of cultures working simultaneously as we walked around this retail space: the culture of the mall, the cultures within each store, the cultures reflected by the shoppers and the cultural dynamics of the shopping unit. wow, i think i confused myself.

i don't think it all hit me until i was in hot topic fighting to buy a g.i.joe t-shirt featuring my favorite cobra character. i realized i was playing in a few cultural moments: 80s nostalgia, sleek emo-indie, cartoon, etc. and they were ones not shared by my two friends who looked puzzled at my need to own this shirt. i remember the year-long search to find the storm shadow action figure. and i never found him attached to the original box art. it was just the loose figure. the shirt features the box art -- and a part of my childhood is now complete.

maybe i'm the crazy one.

a tko from tokyo.

on friday night i became one of the addicted, infected, obsessed Wii fanatics. after weeks of putting it off, i finally installed the machine which has, in my lifetime, turned gaming upside down. i've been a gamer at heart since the first time i put a nintendo controller in my hands. i watched mario bounce on goombas. and i hunted ducks with a bizarre little gun controller. nintendo always has been my system of choice, even if i'm late to the game, so to speak. i wanted a Wii when it first came out. but i waited -- too much work to do. and does a boy need distractions when he's saving brands.

but there's something remarkably exciting about connecting with a game you last played at age nine. so friday night, after an abysmal showing at the artwalk, i tangoed with electronic art. by downloading mike tyson's punch-out. i'll have more on my Wii exploits later. but, for the time being, take a look at a game which made me the boxer i never had the body to become.

throw your hands up.

and screaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaam.
it started the minute my crew passed over the bridge from pompei to italy. rumbles under the bridge, horrible screeches from the speakers. a strange fog sneaking through the cracks beneath our feet. a final night of terror at busch gardens.

i'm a theme park kinda boy - the food, the rides, the smells, the odd array of people. but i had yet to venture to one morphed into a spooky nightmare. it starts with my roommate, terry, who, despite being absolutely terrified of all things scary, routinely puts himself through these events. he knows the zombies will try to taunt him. he knows that the vines might be someone in disguise. he knows that blasts of air will stun him while walking through the maze. but it's the thrill of testing limits, i guess, which brings him back for the sixth time this season.

the scenery is quite incredible. from the green fog virtually eliminating our visibility to the singing skeletons positioned throughout the park, europe transforms into a harrowing adventure. the mazes are hysterical because, if you pay attention, you can pinpoint where the "surprises" will be. you can see the holes, you can watch the people ahead of you, you can get a hint to what your fate is going to be. this is why i'm a terrible companion on these things - because the logic dictates they can only do so much before they have to terrorize the people behind you. it's intriguing how we can profit off of fear and things which make our hearts jump. and how, in this land mirroring europe, countries are defined by their rides, not their names, cultures or language. i'm not going to germany, i'm going to the big bad wolf. duh. funny, more so, how we spent more time sampling beer than riding rides - perhaps an indicator of our priorities. or just terry's directive that he couldn't do this sober.

i recommend the trip for the people you'll encounter. like the trio from norfolk who kept trying to score a swig from our beer. despite our repeated declines. the ones who were clamoring to get out of norfolk. or the group behind us who became solid friends during the windy maze set to the pulse of a strobe light.

what's most amazing about this idea of fear is how, even in an amusement park, fear binds all people together. to get through it all. even if it's just a kid dressed in make-up for $7/hour.

my highlight came from the amazing 200-foot drop in complete darkness on apollo's chariot. it's a heightened level of fear because you're moving so fast on a track you know by heart, but you just can't see. and nothing is more terrifying than speeding ahead into the unknown.

morning walks.

carytown is strangely silent in the morning. hours before the shops open, limiting chatter and life to those sitting in restaurants for brunch and coffee. i've walked the streets this past week, winding around this little independent slice awkwardly thrust into richmond. i get frustrated with carytown because of how busy it is - which is a contradiction for a cultural observer. the slow moving traffic, the inability for people to understand crosswalks, the random pee smells, well, you get the drift.

it's a pocket of vitality, regardless of my opinion about it, full of energy, art and personal expression. making these morning strolls all the more intriguing because none of that exists. it's an eerie silence. the calm before the eye of the storm, if this was a hurricane. the morning imprisons the spirit of the sidewalks, even if the storefronts hint at the bubbling life hidden behind glass.

i can almost here myself think - a scary reality for a place always screaming for attention. and i wonder, in this silent moment, how it's not carytown unless it's annoying me. and my affinity for it, what it offers and why it matters rests in the absolute madness that pastes the blocks together. this makes me wonder if, in a culture we seemingly dislike for so many reasons, would changing the cultural obstacles actually change your opinion? because changing the personality alters the fabric of the culture. hmm.

if you see me walking in the morning, say hi.
it's awfully quiet. and, well, i guess i want some noise.