And You're O So Swagless

This all started with Twitter. My friend Amanda & I just took it to a new level while we were a bit tipsy [okay basically fuxked up but that's where ideas are born!]

What if people could purchase swagger? So many possibilities and questions. Here are my thoughts:

1. First, you need a working definition of swagger. From what I have gathered from various sources, it's a demeanor. It's the way you carry yourself and cause people to interact with you. It allows people to be drawn to you in a crowded room even when you're dressed down. It's magnetism and intensity. It's your first impression. [Working definition, feel free to comment about anything that you feel needs to be added]

2. Now, what kind of swagger would you sell? Wayne's gangsta pussy eating swagger? Jay-Z's business swagger? T.I.'s hard knock life prison swagger? How would vendors know what kind of swagger to sell and what kind of swagger would customers want to buy?

3. How much would people be willing to pay for swagger? I mean obviously, it happens to be within reach of the masses who need it. Would the government subsidize swagger purchases? What if you need Jay-Z swagger to close a deal or Beyonce swagger to pass dance class?

4. Would using swagger become the equivalent of performance enhancement drugs? If you use Einstein swagger [not intelligence, just swag] and happen to pass your test, is that really cheating? I mean it is just swag.

5. How would people take swag? Pill or liquid? Would you be able to mix it in your drink every morning?

6. How long would swag last? Would it be a one time thing? Or do you have to take it everyday like a shower?

7. And does swagger always produce results, no matter the subject? If I gave a bum a shot of Wayne swag, would he be able to get girls like Nivea?

Think of the possibilities. All you biologists and chemists need to get on that. I see a lot of people who are in need of your service. And there is money to be made.

My First Love

It was you. You that I have always wanted. You drove me to wake up every morning. You pushed. I studied hard because you inspired and intrigued me. You helped me to understand people. Why they are the way they are. Why they do the things they do. Hurt when they want to love, cry when the want to smile, etc. I've always been in love with you, even though I never dared to admit it. To admit was to trap myself with you forever. For years, I wasn't ready. And then one day, I was. I think it was in between applying to colleges and prom. I decided that you were what was best for me. You were what I wanted for the rest of my life. Suddenly, my plan was set.

You are my first love, but no longer my only. I've come to love another with the same intensity, the same passion. Each night I find comfort in the thought of spending my life with another. Not only comfort, but joy. I want to fight on the side of my new love for equality for all races. I want to continue the momentum we have. Improve the school system. Right wrongs. I want to be a hero. If to no one else, then at least to myself.

I use to think you made me a hero. I'm sure if I went with you, I still would be. A different kind. On a person to person basis. You would help me fight for their self-esteem. Their mental health. Their lives. Equally great opportunity.

I love you Psychology, but Law is just better in bed. Goodbye my love.

P.S. - I may be back next week, how about an open relationship?

New Year. . .Same Me

It's 2009. With all the hype about it, I figured it would be way more exciting.

It seems everyone wants to change who they are in '09. Transformations abound. Is it weird that I want to stay exactly the same? I mean, growth comes with every situation you experience. But it seems that people on trying to make total 180s. From a Beyonce to a Sasha Fierce. Yet I want to stay me.

I'm comfortable with who I am. It's taken a lot of time & energy to get to a place where I can honestly say, I like me. I like the way I look, think, communicate, feel and live. I wake up every morning just glad to be me. I put in too much work to go around becoming a different person.

In '09, I'm focusing on the people that surround me. I want to have people that can help me have the right experiences. People who are focused on their goals [whatever they may be] and becoming a better person but not a different person. People who can accept that I come with flaws, but see that my strengths outshine them all. People that love me for me, period.

I also want to grind more. I became a little laid-back and satisfied with where I was at, which is wrong. There is no rest for the hungry. You grind, grind and then grind some more. I need to start going out to more events, writing more, doing more internships, probably go back to Canada. Just do more. I'm setting the bar higher for me and my wonderful group of talented individuals. '09 is the year for the people who deserve more or just better. Let's get it.

Where Am I Going?

I think about this all the time. I'm pretty much obsessed with these thoughts. I feel like I'm spending all these days sitting in school. And for what? Will it actually help me get a job? I guess that's why I didn't want to go away. I just felt like what's the point. I like to party, but I like thinking about my future way more. And why spend thousands of dollars on school when I can stay here & get the same education. Maybe even better because NY is the best place for life experiences.

I expect so much of myself. And I'm always afraid. Afraid I won't live up to my own standards. It drives me crazy sometimes. I try to sit back and let life happen. But I've never been that type of person and I don't believe I ever will be. When I want something, I go get it. It's that simple.

But what do I do if what I want is out of reach? IDK. This is the first time this has ever happened to me. I feel like my future goals are CURRENTLY unattainable. It scares the shxt out of me. What will I be doing two years from now? Hopefully, walking across a big ass stage w| a kool aid smile on my face. After that, I'm not sure.

And THAT scares me. . .