Thursday, August 16, 2012

Reconnect Part IV: A Student Again

After 14 years, I'm officially a college student again.  The path to reconnecting all these years later was circuitous and more challenging than I anticipated, but that's par for the course with things decided on a whim.

A few weeks ago I was at a job interview where I really thought my experience and networking would finally pay off. Everything was set up for me to be the right candidate. I knew how to talk the talk. I dropped the right names. I sounded the right rhetorical notes, but what I didn't do was tell them I had a college degree, "Bachelor's required, Master's preferred." What I told them instead was "no, I didn't get it," which is what I always say. I had some pre-made spin in the back of my head about competitive cost of labor and my experience putting me ahead of many with degrees, but I could sense the air had been sucked out of the room. The lead interviewer's tone changed from "nice to meet you" to "I can't believe you wasted my time" and out the door I went with a tepid goodbye and an obviously forced handshake.

I've been on the other side of those interviews. I've interviewed people and had them say something that turned everything on its head just when everything was going so well and you thought you'd found The One. In one case, a gentleman decided to confide in me that he was a recovering alcoholic. In another, a promising young lady got stuck on a question and just fell completely silent for about two solid minutes. In my case, it's been the degree. People are usually incredulous. I even had one prospective employer flat out tell me I'd be absolutely perfect for the position, but having no degree meant she'd never get it past HR.

While I marvel at these runaway human resources departments, I understand they do what they do to protect their organizations, many of whom have contractual stipulations and pre-set pay grades that would be thrown off kilter by hiring someone with lesser official qualifications to do a critical job. But my capitulation to this reality ultimately had nothing to do with my choice to return to school.

For me it was about respect.

I'm certainly no genius, but I do come from at least a marginally decent academic pedigree. My parents have a master's and a doctorate respectively. I was an honor student in my early years of high school and an AP student later on. I went to a liberal arts college of decent repute (albeit for a short period of time). I've been around the country and around the world. I've been in both the trenches and the ivory towers (such as they are) of non-profit social services for the past eight years. I've even had my writings published in a few places and received an award or two in my day. Despite all this, to the general intellectual public, I'm a nobody. You can't see the movie if you didn't buy a ticket and all my attempts to sneak in the emergency exit have met with failure. I want to have more conversations about the role of technology in modern youth development or the implications of globalization on American economic supremacy, but instead I end up in conversations about the relative literary merits of 50 Shades of Grey (there are none).

I'm now at an age where insecurity has dissipated in the harsh light of wanting to just be myself. I'm a snob and proud of it. There's no one who knows me who wouldn't agree with this characterization so I'm owning it. I'm also a realist. I want a place at the table to discuss the things that matter to me as an equal, not as some kid you pat on the head because he had a cute thought.

These were the things that ran through my mind when I raced to fill out my financial aid and CUNY applications. The process was surprisingly easy and it seemed like I was going to get in without much of a struggle. That didn't turn out to be the case.

In order to get into CUNY, one has to either pass a placement test or meet some other criteria such as having an SAT verbal score of 480 or higher, an ACT score of 20 or higher or a 75 or better on their NY State English Regents. I figured this was no problem since my SAT scores were well above the threshold and I'd also scored very well on the AP exam (which we took in lieu of the Regents). I contacted my high school and asked for my transcript to be sent and they offered to send my SAT scores and immunization records as well, which they assured me they still had despite their age. As it turned out, they had neither, but I wouldn't find this out for two weeks and ended up having to fork over $72 to the College Board to get them to open some vault in casa del carajo to find my SAT scores. In the absence of my immunization records, I had to get what was called a Titer Test to make sure I didn't become ground zero for some kind of measles pandemic, which cost me more time and money. I should also mention that while the CUNY placement test does exempt for a 75 or better on the Regents, it does not exempt for the considerably more difficult and college credit granting AP (even if you got a 5), which has to be about the dumbest, most non-sensical policy in the history of college admissions.

It was my work as an advocate for disconnected young people that made it possible. So many times over the years, I'd heard about their travails trying to get a job or into school or into some program. Typically, when one thing goes wrong, it's enough to get us to give up or become incredibly discouraged. We go into most situations with the suspicion that things are going to fall apart at any moment and when they do even a little bit, it reinforces this cognitive bias. I went in acting as my own advocate and every "no" or "well, we have a problem" was a solution waiting to happen. I pestered the folks at CUNY and my high school relentlessly with a phone call or an email at least twice a day because I was not going to let the opportunity slip through my fingers. When systems break down, desire can make the difference.

So I made it, literally at the buzzer on the last possible day I could have been formally accepted to start for the fall semester. It's going to be a struggle since the school is an hour and change subway ride from my apartment and the times of my classes will mold some future work schedule in ways I can't yet fathom, but what matters is that I'm a student again. I'm eager to see what this second round in college as an adult is like and looking forward to continuing on my path to reconnection.

But the most important thing is that I'm

Friday, August 10, 2012

Reconnect Part III: What We Leave Behind

Uncle Bill, circa 2011

One of the main differences between disconnected youth and their more successful counterparts is that successful young people tend to have a better support system. Positive Youth Development theory holds that young people who have a network of concerned and caring adults (and peers) in their lives are more likely to have beneficial outcomes such as completing school, having healthy relationships and generally becoming a decent, productive, law abiding citizen.  Key to these relationships is their sustainability, as young people, particularly those deemed "at-risk," tend to regard people who arbitrarily come in and out of their lives with suspicion.

In my youth, I was fortunate to have a number of supportive, concerned and caring adults around me. They encouraged me to get involved in activities, answered questions about anything I wanted to know (and I had a lot of them) and pointed me toward resources that could help me be successful in life. Some of them were people I knew through my church. Others were teachers or counselors I connected with in school. The bulk of my support, however, came from my family.

My mother had been a single teen mom from a working class background. My father had very little interaction with me after the first few years of my life. This put me squarely in the "at-risk" category long before I knew what the words meant. When my mom remarried and we moved from upstate New York to Long Island, I suddenly gained a large extended family that immediately accepted me as one of their own as if they'd known me from birth. Chief among them were my Aunt Lena and Uncle Bill.

When Aunt Lena came into my life, she was no longer working steadily owing to growing health concerns. As a result, she became the default caretaker for me and my legion of cousins after school and sometimes over the summer. Her husband, my Uncle Bill, worked the night shift at a center for the developmentally disabled so was often around when my cousins and I were making mischief  throughout the house during the restless afternoons and long summer days. Aunt Lena indulged our questions and volunteered plenty of wisdom, both solicited and otherwise. Uncle Bill had a little less patience for our nonsense than she did, but always seemed to take genuine joy in spending time with all of us, which was a skill lost on many men of his generation.

As I grew older, I saw them less, but still stopped in from time to time. Like many of the supportive adults in my life, they expressed their love, well wishes and strong belief that I was destined for great things. At that point no one had any reason to doubt that would be the case. I'd received a Most Likely to Succeed award from my peers, recognition from politicians and community leaders, local and regional media attention and a few special scholarships from my church and elsewhere. I was the poster child for the effectiveness of the Positive Youth Development stratagem.

As I've discussed elsewhere, the definition of disconnection is a broad one. It mostly focuses on the end result, but the causes are manifold. While there are typically a cascading series of events that lead a young person to opt out and stay out of the traditional path to success, a common trend I've witnessed in my work is that young people come to a Critical Moment. When you examine student records, you can almost narrow their history down to the exact day when they suddenly decided school was no longer a priority. Their attendance, once steady, starts to get spotty or unpredictable. Their grades go down. Occasionally, discipline problems escalate. Pinpointing these dates on a calendar allows for more informed counseling as you're able to simply ask a young person what happened at that moment. In many cases I've dealt with, there was something. Maybe they got involved with someone who had an outsized negative influence. Maybe they had a family member who disappeared from the home suddenly (sometimes due to death or incarceration). Maybe they abruptly relocated to a different region or school and had difficulty adjusting.  Invariably, the young person faces some form of significant upheaval and when it comes, the social supports around them are either inaccessible or inadequate to the task of salvaging their fragile sense of prioritization.

In my case, the circumstances leading up to my disconnection were far less dramatic, but when I faced my own Critical Moment, I blinked. It seems incomprehensible (and certainly contrary to youth development dogma) that someone so well heeled and connected could've had this circumstance befall them, but it happened. As I've finally come around to trying to right the course of my life, I've thought a lot about what went wrong back then and realized it wasn't that the process was ineffectual, but that I had abandoned it.

When the Critical Moment arrived after I left school, rather than returning to those caring, supportive adults who had guided and nurtured me, I avoided them like the plague. My church community, my teachers, and even some of my childhood friends were completely erased from my life. I refused to go anywhere near them. I didn't call or write and ducked the few entreaties they made at getting ahold of me. The irony is that these were the very people who would've worked with me to overcome any barriers and get back on the path to success.

Why did I do it? Because the shame and guilt of letting them all down weighed too heavily on me. I couldn't bear to face the people who had sacrificed and believed in me until I had achieved some undefined measure of success.  The years went by and I continued to avoid them. I promised myself I'd return, but not until I'd done something big. Something I could show them that would validate my decision to take a different path and not make me look like a colossal screw up.

My Uncle Bill passed away last Wednesday. Cancer had spread through his body and taken him not long after he'd joined my long infirm Aunt Lena is a nursing home. The news hit me like an earthquake in a year that's already been marred by its share of tragedies. I thought about the hubris that had kept me away all those years and how idiotic I'd been to delude myself into thinking the judgments I was casting on myself bore any relation to how the people who truly cared felt about me.

My Uncle Bill's last words to me, spoken over the phone over the holidays last year, were "We still love you, you know. Don't forget about us." I know you did Uncle Bill and I'm sorry I didn't have the courage to come and tell you I never forgot.

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Reconnect Part II: Welcome to Scam U.

Adrift on a sea of false promises

Yesterday I bumped into a young man named Gary who used to be in the GED program I was affiliated with. I got to know Gary through the jiu jitsu classes I was teaching to a few of his friends. Like many disconnected young people, Gary left high school because he was dissatisfied with the environment, had some disagreements with his teachers and generally felt like his time could be better spent elsewhere.  When he came to the GED program he had already been out of school for awhile at age 19, but he pledged he'd be there every day because he was determined to get it done.

Within a couple weeks he'd vanished, both from the GED program and my jiu jitsu classes. It wasn't really clear to me then what had happened to him, but friends of his that I knew basically said he was being lazy. I spoke with him briefly after awhile and he indicated he had some family issues to take care of, but would be back soon. I never saw him again.

Until yesterday, that is. We ran into each other completely by chance. I was teaching a jiu jitsu lesson down in the South Bronx and he saw us rolling around on the mats through a window. I surmise that the light bulb of recognition that usually goes off in anyone's head who has done jiu jitsu (since we are an insular, almost cultish breed) went off in his. I saw him banging on the window and invited him in. We exchanged a few pleasantries and then I winced as I got ready to ask him the question I was dreading:

"Did you get your GED?"

Of course the answer was no, despite the year and a half that had passed since I'd last seen him. I began chiding him, gently at first, when he told me the reason he'd quit the GED program (his tutor had to leave early one day when he'd stayed late for extra help and he felt like they didn't care about him). He told me he was looking into finishing though and then dropped the bomb that he was going to enroll in TCI. That's when I started throwing punches.

Technical Career Institutes College of Technology (TCI), for those of you who don't know, is what's commonly known as a Proprietary College. It's less commonly known as a bootleg school that gives you less of an education than a community college at double to quintuple the price. Analogues here in New York City include Global Business Institute, Monroe College, Katharine Gibbs, Berkeley College, The Art Institute, Globe Institute of Technology and the New York Career Institute, among others.

If you clicked on any of the above links, notice the quality rating and its relationship to the tuition rating.

A semester at any of the schools in the City University of New York (CUNY) system will cost you about $5,430 a year, all of which will likely be covered by the federal Pell grant if you meet income requirements or the state Tuition Assistance Program (TAP) grant. A year at TCI or Monroe costs around $11,000. At Berkeley (and no, we're not talking about the famous one in California), about $20,000. At the Art Institute, $25,500. This tab is usually picked up by some creative work in the financial aid office.

Aside from the price, one of the biggest complaints about these institutions is that their accreditation is suspect at best. What this means in plain english is that your credits are unlikely to transfer if you decide to go to a real school and in some cases the programs they offer do not lead to a legitimate Associate's or Bachelor's degree, but a certificate that isn't worth the paper it's printed on.

The allure of many of these programs is that they have killer marketing programs that you can't help but notice if you take public transportation. If you've never bothered to do research, it's easy to be seduced by the promises of "flexible scheduling," a can-do spirit, a pipeline directly into a career and the ability to concurrently work on pursuing a college degree and completing your GED. These ads are targeted at single mothers, young minorities and working class adults more or less at the bottom of the career totem pole (charitably labeled "non-traditional students") and are widely considered by education professionals to be predatory on par with the verbiage of Countrywide Mortgage and check cashing places.

Government has finally twigged onto this problem and is attempting to crack down not only on the institutions themselves, but the accrediting agencies who allow them to operate. The Obama Administration took aim at this issue not long ago, proposing a tough set of new rules that would more clearly establish who was on the level and who wasn't, but then backed down when the final regulations were released after some intense lobbying pressure.

The proprietary college is an interesting nut to crack, particularly with the growth of online education and high unemployment forcing many (myself included) to seek education as a means of positioning themselves to better compete in this unforgiving economy. Forewarned is forearmed. I was fortunate to catch up with Gary before he dove down the rabbit hole. For more information on finding a free GED program in New York City check here. For legitimate programs that offer the opportunity to attend college even if you haven't completed high school, check out the State University of New York's community colleges, many of which offer 24 credit High School Equivalency programs.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

Reconnect Part I

Not as easy as Yeezy

I'm a college dropout.

I don't like to admit it in writing because now, of course, those prospective employers scanning my ambiguously worded resume can simply Google their way to this knowledge, but it's a fact. It's who I am. In a way it defines me and all the choices I've made since that fateful decision way back when.

I remember enjoying wine, women and song a little too much as a college freshman. It was no surprise, really. When I went to college I was a virgin who'd never touched alcohol or drugs and had a fairly strict Baptist upbringing. I was a preacher's kid and seemingly well on the way to becoming a minister or maybe even Obama (before there was Obama). When I got to college I was surrounded by a lot of people who had a much freer interpretation of carpe diem than I had so I jumped in head first and had a ball.

But not really. Nostalgia's funny that way. In actuality, I spent most of my time in college disgusted. I drank a bit, but it was never really my thing the way it seemed to be for a lot of others. I picked my school because it had been listed as one of the top universities in California for creative writing, but the writing program was basically four classes and then it was a wrap. I became disenchanted fairly quickly with the whole thing and started to wonder why I was paying so much to take these weird classes at this hippie college where the students taught the classes just as often as the professors. It was also a major culture shock for me because I found myself as one of only a handful of students of color. While I certainly hadn't had ambitions to go to Morehouse, being so isolated made me feel perpetually uncomfortable, not for the first time in my life.

So I convinced myself that leaving was the best thing for me. After all, I was a hot young up and coming writer who'd been on television a couple times and knew how to read as well as anyone. College was a colossal waste of time, particularly since fame and fortune were doubtless just round the corner. There were also some serious financial considerations at play that would've made my staying an almost impossible burden on myself and my family.

Years later in my work at a Bronx based non-profit settlement house, I would learn a classification for young people in my situation. I was a disconnected youth. Most of the time when people use the term, they refer to high school dropouts and/or GED recipients, but the technical definition extends to young people 16-24 who are simply listing with no real plan other than getting away from whatever they're supposed to be doing because something (typically less important with the benefit of hindsight) came up.

In the intervening years I've scoffed at returning to school, mostly because I was still arrogant, broke and, at bottom, stupid. I hit a pay ceiling pretty early at my previous job and as I've tested the employment market lately on a few interviews, I've seen my lack of degree come back to slap me hard in the face. I could rail about how unfair it is that a piece of paper defines my capabilities when it's more or less plainly evident that I'm not a complete moron, but the game is what it is. Life has winners and losers and part of the job of the winners is to make sure it's a little harder for the losers to come up and take their spot, which is Darwinism (or maybe Spencerism) at its finest.

So as of this writing, I'm in the process of making my glorious return to the hallowed halls of academia. The path has thus far been fraught with self-doubt and head-scratchingly absurd complications, but I'm on it for the long haul. I'm going to chronicle my attempt to reconnect and go legit periodically on this blog and hopefully help some people avoid some of my missteps along the way.

Saturday, July 21, 2012

The Dark Knight Rises Indeed

This third installment of Christopher Nolan's vision of the life and times of the Batman completes a masterpiece. It is the piéce de resistance of the franchise and one of the strongest finishes to a trilogy we've seen since Lord of the Rings wrapped up. It was as strong as Return of the Jedi, but without resorting to the gimmickry of Ewoks.

The film at times thrived on its pure adrenaline driven action cinematography, but tempered the thrill-ride with the familiar aerial pans Nolan used to effect in Inception and The Dark Knight to give his scenes a sense of loftiness and gravitas. Dark Knight Rises borrows a good deal of its visual language and staging from post-modern war cinema, showcasing battle as a brutal swarm of colliding men and steel. The view from above and the brooding score by Hans Zimmer plead for the viewer's sympathy rather than the "kewl" response elicited by the inconsequential bedlam of Avengers. As Batman's flying car (or whatever it was) careens inadvertently into buildings at times, you can't help but feel a twinge of Bruce Wayne's heartbreak at hurting the city he and his family built.

The development of characters both old and new kept the film feeling fresh and engaging, similar to The Dark Knight. TDK probably surpassed this film in depth of characterization, but here even tertiary characters are brought up to a level of interest that many of their comic book counterparts don't often enjoy.

Hardy's Bane equals Ledger's Joker in every way, though I suspect some will be reluctant to admit it. His villainy is absolute, but is forged from sources seemingly unknowable. He is a powerful force come to teach Gotham a lesson and in a way stands as a monument to Batman's hubris at thinking he can don and discard his cowl at a whim.

Christian Bale reaches the height of his powers in expressing Bruce Wayne's resolve and finally shows us a healthy measure of the steel Batman is known for rather than the anger we saw in the first film or the passion in the second. Wayne's prolonged disengagement from the public eye in the aftermath of TDK seems almost trivial in a Hollywood where only death or dismemberment can keep the average hero from seeking righteous and permanent vengeance. Nolan chooses to ground his Bruce Wayne in reality by giving him a lengthy eight year grieving period/forced retirement.

Bale's Batman is essentially broken and soft before Bane even shows up. Going by the timeline of the films, Bruce should be about 40 at the time this installment begins. Anne Hathaway, despite her relative youth, pulls off a convincing turn as the wizened beyond her years and mostly out for herself Selina Kyle. Michael Caine finally gets to prove they couldn't just interchange any Englishman for the role and that Alfred did, in fact, require an accomplished actor.

The action is a bit overindulgent, but enjoyable and complementary to a strong narrative and compact script that rarely rushes but still manages to pack in a lot of story. The thematic explorations and competing plotlines are intelligent and rife with the twists and turns that seem to be the Nolan brothers' specialty.

I would have made the film shorter by exactly 2 seconds, but I'll leave readers to figure out why.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Web My Eyes!!!

In a moment of foolish curiosity I went to see Amazing Spider-Man, despite the staid warnings of many. It was horrible! It was the worst abomination of a film, not just a comic film, that I've ever seen. It was like Green Lantern or FF 2 bad!

My god, I just finished reading the entirety of The Boys and then to go into this poorly dialogued, horribly rushed cheeseball of a movie was like getting kicked in the taint whilst at full mast.

The thing was, I wasn't even comparing it to superhero films past or the trilogy that preceded it. I was just comparing it to teen television and film since that was clearly the intended audience. In that regard it was a total failure. You don't have shows like Buffy or even Smallville having been made to clearly pave the way to show aspects of adolescence mixed in with the fantastic and then spend millions making a vacuous and cornball film like that. You don't assume moviegoers are going to swallow this as the next "great franchise" when we've already had stuff like Harry Potter.

The actors seemed to be laboring under the weight of the bad script and I can't believe they even signed on to do it in the first place. To their credit they seemed to wring a few moments from it, but they probably totaled about 2 minutes of the whole movie. I strongly doubt the writers had ever met an actual teenager and the Queens that somehow included Coney Island made the film feel amateurish and borderline absurd.

Unoriginal, unimaginative and ultimately unnecessary. A sane world would not allow a sequel, but then we did get 2 GI Joes...

Friday, June 29, 2012

Google's Chrome Continues its Conquest

Today I simultaneously downloaded Google Chrome for my ASUS Transformer-101 Android tab and iPhone. I'm pleased to report the two mobile versions have just as excellent levels of functionality as the desktop version. It shows me open tabs and bookmarks across devices, delivers quick search results (albeit purposely a little slower), offers incognito browsing and has tabs rather than Safari's constantly reloading windows.

It works even better on my TF-101 because of the full Google integration native to the Android OS, though I'm not sure why exactly they even bothered keeping the native Browser. It seems like Google could've averted a fair amount of confusion had they just smartly replaced the built in browser (which is basically a stripped down version of Chrome) with the real Chrome as they did the Android Market with Google Play. The browser has just about all of Chrome's functions except of course access to the extensions.

These days it seems like there's even less reason to buy an Android phone, despite awesome strides by HTC and others, because now you can have the best of Android right on your iPhone. I hope this era of cooperation or at least grudging tolerance continues, though it's undoubtedly fragile.

The only thing Safari has that I like better is the READER function for offline easier on the eyes article viewing. You can probably do similar things through Chrome, but I have no clue how. A couple years ago, when the desktop version of Safari made a splash by offering READER functions, developers responded with Readability. My suspicion is that you can add READER functionality or something like it using Bookmarklets, though at present it doesn't seem to work based on my own tests. Also, you can change Chrome to your default browser on the iPhone in a couple different ways.

Like this if you're jailbroken.

Like this if you aren't.

This second method doesn't work quite as well and isn't exactly making Chrome your default browser, but giving you the option to use it in the midst of opening a link.

Thus far, for an app less than 24 hours old, I'm impressed!

Monday, April 30, 2012

The Call I Won't Be Getting

98.7 Kiss FM went off the air at midnight last night just as I was marking my thirty-third birthday. I slept through both events and woke up feeling groggy and out of sorts. According to lore, Jesus Christ was crucified at thirty-three. I only know that because Nas mentioned it in "One Mic," but I've heard it repeated enough times that it either must be true or Nas just has a lot of fans. (Note: Apparently, theologians tend to agree) I like to think that if I make it past this year I'll live a long, rich life, but most likely that's just a delusion of grandeur.

Kiss FM used to fill up my mom's green Buick that tipped over into the shoulder on the highway and her red Chevy Cavalier that had its engine catch on fire on my seventh birthday. I think both incidents permanently traumatized me against driving and the morning's news that three generations had perished in a horrible accident on the highway just down the road from my apartment didn't do anything to alleviate that trauma. Were it not for a few fortuitous twists of fate, that family could've been my own. Kiss was the kind of station that would have spent all day ruminating on the horrible tragedy of the lost lives, interspersing prayers for the family with mixes of funk and soul music. The station nurtured a culture of community and community responsibility. In the late 80s that community was the fledgling hip hop scene. In the 2000s, it was the niche classic R&B that almost every African American over 30 had grown up with.

Knowing Kiss FM is off air feels like one more death blow to my childhood, which has taken a considerable drubbing over the past year. This morning when I woke up, I felt older and less satisfied with the world. As a matter of personal survival, I've always shunned nostalgia because it tends to be a bad liar. The awesome trip you took to Six Flags actually had you walking around clutching your stomach half the day after eating a bad hot dog. The amazing vacation you went on down south was bookended by twelve hours of hell driving in a car without air conditioning. Reality maybe needs nostalgia to soften its edges, but I find it better to just take notes of things as they're happening so you can remember how you really felt in a given moment.

Nostalgia might have been what I felt when I picked up my phone this morning, checking to see if I'd missed a call. Or when I dialed my voice mail. Or when I stared at the screen as the hour approached noon and I still hadn't gotten the call I was waiting for. I fielded a couple other calls, some Facebook messages and a couple texts before settling for the fact that the call I was waiting for; the one I'd received on this day for thirty-two years wasn't coming today. I wouldn't hear a familiar "feliz cumpleaños" waiting for me on the other end of the line anymore than I'd hear Michael Baisden implore the Kiss family to take up his latest cause célèbre. The voice I was waiting to hear had been silenced absolutely.

Today I miss her call and I can't even tune my dial to 98.7 to cheer me up. The nostalgia isn't quite as satisfying, but it'll have to do.

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Between the Ears

How do you go about discovering the Ebony Rhythm Band?

It's a funny thing to just let iTunes play sometimes. You chance on music you forgot you downloaded and you wonder if you might have snagged the song after listening to the music channels on cable because even Pandora doesn't come up with music like this.

You sat across from the TV with the remote dangling from your fingertips and the plasma bathing/maybe burning your face. And these guys came on and they weren't smiling in any of the photos. Their clothes looked drab like something Lamont would wear when he had a date.

When you googled them, the first thing that came up in the suggested results was the rhythm method. They didn't have a Wiki. You checked YouTube to get a wider sampling size and then grab a torrent that had them as part of a larger funk sample pack.

But you still had to free up space by moving stuff to your external hard drive so instead you left the torrent file on your desktop for some other day.

When you downloaded it a month later, you forgot why and then nine weeks after that you let iTunes keep going after listening to Dwele.

And it was good.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

Tuna with Egg Noodles

It's funny how loss just creeps up on you and smacks you in the face.

I was making some tuna fish with egg noodles; a favorite of my grandmother's. Honestly I don't know if it was really a favorite of hers, but she sure made it a lot. Most likely because it was quick and easy. It was certainly a favorite dish of mine to eat.

So I'm making it and it's all done, looking just the way it's supposed to look, though I hadn't tasted it yet. Usually after tasting it I would realize something was missing and then I'd call her, but today as I looked down at the bowl it dawned on me once again that she's gone. She can't tweak my recipe or laugh when I tell her what I forgot. She can't change the subject and meander into some story she's told me already a hundred times.

She's gone.

Tuna with Egg Noodles

Prep Time: 5 minutes
Cook time: 15 minutes


1 bunch of scallions
2 plum tomatoes
1 can of chunk light tuna in water
1/2 bag of egg noodles
1 TBSP Mayonnaise
1 TSP spicy mustard
1 TSP lemon juice
1/2 TBSP Butter

1) Dice Scallions and Tomatoes
2) Mix Tuna, Mayonnaise, Mustard, Lemon Juice, salt and pepper (to taste)
3) Add Diced Scallions and Tomatoes, blend then let mixture sit covered with plastic wrap
4) Boil Egg Noodles for 9-10 mins in 2 Qts of Water (add dash of salt and 1/2 TBSP butter to water)
5) Drain Egg Noodles and add to Tuna Mixture, mixing together
6) Eat!!!

Note: My grandmother didn't typically add tomatoes. That was my innovation based on one of my favorite cooks, Mrs. Mirjah, suggesting it to me.